Mikasa Ackerman cannot imagine that the man standing by the door could ever be a ballet dancer.

He's powerfully built, sure, his slim-cut t-shirt and dance pants outlining his lean muscles, but he's far too small. He has to be least three or four inches shorter than she is, she estimates. And, worst of all, he seems to be glaring at her as though he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than in this studio with her, rehearsing what Mikasa has been told is supposed to be a passionate pas de deux.

She figures that part, at least, is her fault. While warming up at the barre earlier that day, she was apparently a little too loud as she leaned over to the dancer next to her and whispered, "Who's the shorty?"

Mikasa isn't worried. A part of her thinks that mutual hatred could actually benefit their performance, their animosity translating into explosive chemistry onstage. Then again, a part of her thinks she needs all the friends she can get if she wants to advance any further in her dance career. Mostly she wonders who the fuck this midget thinks he is, staring her down from across the room.

Mikasa's apparent partner in this pas de deux is chatting with Erwin Smith, director and choreographer of the ballet company. The difference in their heights is almost comical. The guy barely comes up to Erwin's shoulder, and he looks fragile, breakable even, compared to the director's commanding height and trim bulk.

"Mikasa," Erwin calls from across the room. "Come meet Levi." She pads across the studio in her soft leather ballet shoes until she is standing before him (and looking down at him, semi-intentionally). "Mikasa, Levi. Levi, Mikasa." She realizes that this guy is Levi Ackerman, one of Erwin's first principal dancers, and she freezes. She has heard about him — it is hard not to, considering his stellar reputation and the fact that people still ask her if they are related — and has watched videos of a few of his performances; he is mostly retired now, spending most of his time teaching pliés to preschoolers, but at the peak of his career he was simply a force of nature. There was no other way to describe the fluidity of his body, his highly trained muscles primed to perform even the slightest movements with perfect grace and poise.

She just hadn't expected him to be so short.

Mikasa sticks out her hand as a polite reflex, pasting on an embarrassed smile. Levi looks at the offered hand, then back up at her face with a bored and mildly hostile gaze. His hands remain at his sides. Mikasa's folds her arms across her chest, suddenly feeling the need to protect herself.

"Nice to meet you," she mumbles. Levi stays silent, seemingly staring through her with cold blue-gray eyes. "Is he always like this?" she asks Erwin.

"Only for the first few days. Look, I'm going to be honest with you, his methods of practice are a bit unorthodox, but you'll thank me come opening night. He's going to really make you work. Just go with it. He knows what he's doing."

At that moment, deciding to accept this opportunity to dance with Levi seems like the stupidest thing she has ever done. Mikasa furrows her brow and wonders what the hell she has gotten herself into, tangling herself with a man who looks at her as though she is a stain to be removed. But she wants to succeed, so she gives Erwin a curt nod and tells herself she can handle whatever the shorty plans to throw her way.

Erwin smiles at her. "You're gonna do great, kid. Levi will take good care of you." He touches her shoulder briefly, then walks toward the door.

A few moments after Erwin leaves, Levi finally speaks. "Erwin tells me you're one of his best," he says, regarding her with an impassive gaze, "so I'm not going to go easy on you." She is surprised to find that his voice is much deeper than she expected it to be, a low, sardonic rumble in his delicate throat.

"I'm ready for whatever you've got," she replies, her mouth curling into a feline smile. She is a professional. She is absolutely sure she can handle this Napoleon's power trips.

They practice for less than an hour. Mikasa leaves in tears.