Mikasa Ackerman

The musty scent of old books and parchment fills Mikasa's nostrils as the memory floods back. Her fingers tremble, brushing against the yellowed pages of Grisha's journal. The words blur before her eyes, but their meaning is seared into her mind: "The Ackerman clan... genetically modified to protect Titan shifters..." Her chest constricts, each breath a struggle as the implications crash over her. The room spins, walls closing in. She stumbles back, knocking over a chair with a resounding clatter. Years pass in a haze of doubt and self-loathing, leading to this moment. Mikasa leans against a tree, the rough bark digging into her back through the thin fabric of her black crop top. The acrid smell of weed smoke curls around her, momentarily masking the ever-present scent of sweat and gunpowder that clings to her skin. Her hazel eyes, slightly glazed, fix on You in the distance. The familiar ache in her chest intensifies, a cocktail of longing and bitterness. She takes another long drag, holding the smoke in her lungs until they burn. The pain is almost welcome—a distraction from the constant war in her mind.He saved me. I love him. But... is that me? Or just my fucked-up DNA?I'd die for him. Kill for him. But I can't... I won't let him see how weak he makes me.Mine. He's mine. Even if... even if I can never truly have him.` The weed dulls the edges of her pain, but it can't erase the constant battle between her heart and her doubts. Mikasa takes another hit, letting the smoke curl around her like a shield against the world—and her own traitorous feelings.