Attack on Titan Fanfiction – A Decade in the Making: Chapter 1

Learning to Love Him

“I can’t wear this much ruffles, Hitch, I’ll look silly!” Mikasa protested as she checked herself out in the mirror. 

“Oh nonsense, girl, they’re all the rage. And if your fellow’s from the continent then he’ll expect nothing less. Have you seen how the women there dress? We’ll look like plain dowdy sparrows next to them if we don’t keep up!” Hitch fluffed up the ruffles on the blouse, adjusting here and there. “There, see, you look much more feminine!”

Mikasa had to admit she was right. Her breasts looked two cup sizes larger, making her already trim waist look even narrower. She’d refused to wear a corset, but her firm bubble butt, toned from years of military training, did their part in holding up the skirts. I suppose I don’t look too bad, she thought.

The continental fashion Hitch talked about was something else, though, and made her a just a tad bit worried. It was conservative fashion, neat and covering with long skirts, long sleeves, high collars and gloves, but with rich details like ribbons and ruffles and buttons and lace. She’d seen the pictures in the magazines at the city library. In spring and summer the dress colors were sweet pastels with matching hat and umbrella. It was the silhouette that concerned her the most: continental women wore S-bend corsets that unnaturally thrust the chest forward and forced the hips backward. Like pouter pigeons, Mikasa had thought as she flipped through the fashion publications. She hoped that the man she wanted to meet at the port this afternoon did not come to believe that was what a woman should be shaped like.  

She turned sideways to check out her profile. She’d always wished for bigger breasts–the ones she had stayed out of the way during combat, but in a dress they made her wish for more. Today Hitch’s styling made everything look just right. But she couldn’t help worry about something. “Don’t you think it’s kind of faking it, though? I mean, if the guy undresses you won’t he be disappointed?” She blushed at what she’d been thinking.

“You silly innocent!” Hitch tittered. “By the time you reach that stage the guy no longer cares what you look like!” The fashionable blonde pushed a stool by her feet. “Sit and I’ll do your hair. I’m good at doing the fluffy updo,” she said with a hint of pride.

Oh no, not that updo! Mikasa balked. She’d seen that in the magazines, too, and on the upper crust, socialite, noblewomen on the island. It had the hair piled up high on the head in a pompadour, with a waterfall of curls. Mikasa protested, “Oh Hitch, you’re sweet and I do thank you for your kindness, but please let my hair be! He…he likes it long and falling over my shoulders…”

“Ugh! He must be ancient then! At least let me do a half up and curl the ends,” the sartorial police officer insisted. 

At the port, among the crowd of women waiting for the ships’ crews and passengers to disembark, Mikasa thanked the gods she let Hitch talk her into dressing up, talk her into the fancy blouse and matching hat and gloves and the works. Her usual off duty clothes consisting of a simple white long-sleeved blouse with long, dark grey skirt would have looked incredibly dull among the ladies all dressed up and chattering excitedly as they watched the seamen and sailors come ashore. She thanked her lucky stars she and Hitch had a chance encounter at the florist’s this morning. Mikasa was there picking out a welcome bouquet; Hitch, who was married and with a baby daughter and on leave from the Military Police, also had taken the Frīgedæg off and was choosing flowers to decorate her house for some visiting relatives from her husband’s side. 

“You’re meeting your fellow at the port wearing that?” Hitch had given Mikasa’s basic white-and-grey outfit a once over and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. The blonde had prevailed upon the raven-haired soldier to let her be dressed up. “Think of me as the fashion police,” Hitch had said with confidence as she put together an outfit. “Men are visual creatures. You say you haven’t seen your fellow in a year. Make his eyes pop out! Make him drool! And the next time he’s on a ship, it’ll be with you on your honeymoon!”  

Mikasa blushed as she recalled their conversation. It’s been a while since she’d gone out to the southern port. It was the largest on the island, always crowded and brimming with life. Today was especially lively, with three merchant vessels and one Navy ship at anchor. She listened to the sights and sounds of the island’s busiest port. It was nice to have a change of scenery, especially after a long grieving process. 

For a whole year Mikasa grieved the loss of Eren. During the day she did her part as a soldier and officer, working to build the new Royal Army, and at night she retired to her room in the officers’ barracks to weep over the pain of losing what had been her reason for living. It was the sheer amount of work that kept her going. They overhauled the military to modernize it, and along with the structural changes they had to acquire and master new weapons. Mikasa stood at the forefront because she was the fastest learner–soon she was training both the infantry directly along with the instructor corps.

Her mind drifted off to her friends, wondering when she’ll see them again. Like her it was the sheer amount of work that kept everyone going. 

Armin was now head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and their de facto Ambassador to the world, and he was gone for great lengths of time trying to negotiate diplomatic relations with whatever country that took pity on them and deigned to negotiate with them. 

Levi formed the Special Forces initially to protect Paradian merchant ships from pirates; he was busy training his operators while fighting in the front lines of the battle against privateers. 

Hange was doing what she had always doing, but now on an unprecedented scale never before seen in their history: she was building ice burst stone-run engines while playing catch up with the rest of the world creating industrial grade weapons. She was also Marshall of the Royal Air Force, which was actually in name only because they didn’t have any decent fleet yet. 

Like Hange, Jean was also head of an organization in name only: he was Admiral of the Fleet of the Paradian Royal Navy. They had managed to acquire a few ships but had no real fleet to speak of; Jean and his crew shuttled between the neighboring nation of Noblain learning the ropes of a modern navy while at Paradis he oversaw the building of a fleet from scratch. 

All of them groped their way in the dark, scrabbling and hustling until they collapsed in sheer exhaustion. And then they got up and went at it again; survival demanded it. The former members of the Survey Corps kept up and went above and beyond the call of duty. It was a time of great upheaval. 

But the upheaval was not just on a national scale. Upheavals of the heart also happened on an individual level. It was Mikasa who was hit the hardest.

All the time he was in Noblain Jean had written her a letter every week. It was usually just a page or two, talking mostly about work yet always asking how she was and containing anecdotes about Noblain and life at sea and miscellaneous Navy stuff. They were friendly letters reminding her that he cared for her and was there when she needed him. She wrote back, usually about her difficulties training others who were not up to Ackermann standards, meaning virtually everyone. She was struggling to understand what it was like not to be a supersoldier. Jean had advised her: “Take your strength, divide by ten. Take your speed, divide by a hundred. Take your hypervigilant, hyperaware state and water it down to twenty percent. That is the ordinary soldier. For illustration purposes only (but one that you’ll like, I reckon): Take Levi Ackermann and chop him up into five hundred pieces; each piece is the equivalent of one ordinary soldier.” For her, it was the best advice she’d received and undoubtedly helped her become a better instructor.

Mikasa was wrenched from her reverie as her ears took in the chatter of the women around her. 

“That man over there, the tall one! Look at him! Gods, he’s such a hottie!” Two women, a brunette and a redhead about the same age as her were giggling and pointing at a man by the docks. 

Her gaze followed where they were pointing. A tall, well-built man with ash blonde hair in a navy blue uniform was giving directions. It was Jean Kirschtein. Her heart skipped a bit. There he was, the man she wanted to give a surprise welcome to at the port. 

He’s not just some man, Mikasa wanted to tell them. He’s Jean. My Jean. As she watched him work her mind couldn’t help traveling back many years, all the nine years they’d known each other. 

When she trained the troops she’d remembered her own days as a soldier in training, and inevitably she’d remember Jean. She graduated top of her class; of course she was the best among them: she was an Ackermann. Ranked below her were four titan shifters: Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Eren. Jean came in sixth, in effect making him the best ordinary human in the 104th cadet corps. But despite being the smartest and strongest, the adolescent Jean was brash, cocky, brutally frank and pretty much insufferable. It was amazing how he grew from this annoying boy to a responsible leader with whom others have willingly entrusted their lives. 

As a boy he was both naive and realistic, with an abrasive personality. But from the start he genuinely cared for his comrades, including Eren whom he was antagonistic to from the very beginning. 

It was Jean who convinced the 104th cadets to join her in the Battle of Trost. She learned about it from Armin. “Are we going to let a comrade fight alone?” he had demanded. He led the charge as they caught up with her.

He kept a cool head the entire time during the First Battle of Shiganshina, displaying more situational awareness than anyone else. When Sasha and Connie were in tears over having thought they killed Reiner it was Jean who told them to keep their heads. It was also Jean who made Eren stand down, telling him it wasn’t smart to attack yet when the latter wanted to charge upon seeing Armin’s ultimately failed attempt to negotiate with Berthold. What struck Mikasa was that Eren listened to Jean, showing the respect between them even when a lot of the time they postured and came to blows. And more than anything, it was Jean who pointed out to Armin the hole in his plan to retreat to the walls. While everyone was in a panic and ready to blindly follow Armin’s orders, Jean kept his cool and correctly deduced that leading the Colossal Titan to the walls would be tactical suicide, prematurely decimating Erwin’s team.    

When the Survey Corps was trying to save Eren and Historia from the police it was Armin and Jean who disguised as the former two. After the debacle was over Armin told Mikasa everything that happened, how one of the kidnappers, a perverted old man, sexually assaulted “Historia”. Armin was so shook up after the encounter that when Levi ordered him to tie up the leering, panting man in question he was shaking and unable to do it fast enough, annoying the captain. “Step on it,” Levi had barked, unaware of what had just happened. “It’s alright, I got this,” Jean had told Armin, taking over and sparing Armin from having to touch the drooling pervert. 

It was small incidents like this, things the hyper-observant Armin noticed and pointed out to oblivious people like her, that showed Jean’s true colors. Armin had known for a long time: that underneath the cocky veneer was a person who had grown to care deeply about others. It took her a while to realize that herself.

During the Battle of Liberio when Jean was platoon commander he ordered the soldiers to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. Floch disobeyed, of course, but that moment stayed with her and helped her appreciate the man Jean had grown to be. It was something they both felt strongly about: separating civilians from soldiers. 

Her growing opinion of him was cemented when he refused to have the enemy children Gabi and Falco thrown off the blimp, even after the former had killed Sasha. What good would it do to murder children, he asked the avenging soldier, Floch. It wouldn’t solve anything, Jean had readily pointed out. Mikasa herself had protected Gabi during the knife encounter with Kaya; like Jean she believed it wasn’t the child’s fault she was brainwashed and trained to become a killing machine. 

As the years went by Mikasa noticed, too, how Jean had grown to love Eren, how he went from being mad at and jealous of Eren to standing up for him again and again. While Jean never let Eren off the hook he still tried his best to understand the titan shifter’s motives and raison d’être.

Again and again Jean would make crucial calls, leading the 104th and eventually commanding the Survey Corps before they restructured the military. Now Jean headed the Navy. It’s befitting, Hange had remarked, because a capable naval force was the cornerstone of successful island defense. No one more capable of building it than Jean.  

Mikasa missed him and wanted him back on the island.

She was seeing all this now because for a year he wasn’t around. Absence does make the heart grow fonder; it forced her to re-evaluate everything. The distance did them good, and the different work–she in the Army, he in the Navy–also did them good. Finally she started seeing him in a different light. She was confused about her feelings for him, so when Jean wrote that his year-long training in Noblain was over and he’d be coming back for good, she decided to meet him at the port as a surprise. They’ll finally see each other after a year of being apart. She was sure to find out where things stood between them. 

What could possibly go wrong?

Thank you so much for reading! Please take a moment to share a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana

Next – Chapter 2: Meet the Rivals

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