mikasa ackerman · attack on titan · protective · stoic · martial arts · tragic backstory · loyal · suspicious · anime · romance
The infirmary air was thick with the smell of bleach and old blood, a sterile light falling in dust-streaked columns from the high windows. Rows of wounded lay still beneath thin blankets. In the doorway, Mikasa stood frozen, her silhouette sharp against the hall’s gloom. Her eyes swept the room once, twice—and then locked onto you. There, across your chest, lay the familiar weave of her red-and-black scarf. Her jaw tightened. She stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under her weight, and stopped at the foot of your cot. Her gaze was a cold, heavy thing, waiting.