Date written: 07/07/13 – 08/07/13

Posted on FanFiction: 14/07/13

— PROLOGUE —

"I . . . am strong.

"Unbelievably so. Much stronger than all of you put together.

"Therefore . . . I can kick every single one of those Titans' asses.

"Even if I have to do it alone."

This world was a cruel place. It had always been filled with cruelty. Her mind all those years ago just refused to acknowledge such an evil fact. If not the Titans, then there were humans who could be as cruel as Titans. The world was cruel . . .

But it was also beautiful.

And now . . . now that beauty was gone. What else was there in this world to keep her going, to keep her from dying? What could this world give her in compensation for the cruelty it brought to her doorstep? Her parents dead, her new family destroyed, her Eren killed. Her life as she knew it was gone.

All that was left from the fiery destruction brought on by the Titans was cruelty. Hope was meaningless. Living was meaningless. The world no longer mattered to her.

Mikasa came to this conclusion the moment she had leaped from the rooftop and depressed the triggers on her gear. The shot of the hooks flying and embedding to the surrounding buildings, the feel of the high-pressure gas putting momentum into the shots, the intense velocity of the wind as she sailed ten times the speed of a running human, they were the kinds of distractions she welcomed with open arms. She knew she was entering denial, was deliberately closing off the pain in her heart with action that required nothing more than the instinct of a killer, but within that denial there was a purpose, within that instinct, a desire: To kill every Titan she saw until she herself was killed by one. A twisted purpose, sure, but it was better this than let Titans devour her without putting up a fight.

Yes, going down in a fight. That was the best way. The best way for her to die. Eren died fighting, too, after all.

She readied her blades. A Titan was in front of her, unaware of its impending demise. Its flesh was harder than leather, but in her current velocity, with a weapon sharpened to perfection, it was like chopping firewood at the back of her old home. Two parallel slices to start with, then adjust the angle of the blades till their tips almost touch, exiting out on the other side of the monster's nape and dragging along the lump of flesh that was made to be its weakness.

She didn't stay to watch the Titan fall; there were plenty more for her to kill.

The gas emissions abounded her that the air felt stifling, as if her gear had started overheating. But such nuances never really registered. The speed in which she was propelling herself through negated most of the high-pressure gas from distracting her for too long. She sighted another Titan to her right, along the next street. She changed course, depressed the trigger, but no propulsion.

She tried the other trigger, but it was the same result. She had run out of gas.

Her trajectory was still in full swing, going a little below a hundred miles an hour, and she had already retracted her hooks, so there was nothing for her to do except ride it out till she either hit a wall, splattering her body like a fly to a swatter, or fall to the ground, where even if she survived, she was still a likely candidate for a Titan's snack. But she neither hit a wall nor fall to the ground. Her last moment before detracting her second hook, she switched her body's center of gravity to assimilate the change in direction with as little time as possible. This, in turn, shifted her trajectory and veered her to the roof of a nearby building.

But Mikasa's velocity was still too fast.

Her left leg hit a dormer—one of the little windows protruding from any triangular roof in Trost—fracturing the bones on impact. Her center of gravity changed from both the momentum and the lapse of concentration. The roof shingles cut into her body as she was bounced, dragged, and scratched all over till her speed decreased to a stop.

The roof, however, was not long enough for a full stop.

Barely making ten miles an hour, she was still rolling across the sloped roof. Her left leg got abused by a chimney during her slide, worsening the fracture that the bone began to stick out of her flesh, and Mikasa tried to stifle the shout, but the salvo of pain proved too much even for her. She was unsure whether it was because of the innate human-sensing ability the Titan's possess or it was because of her agonized cry that alerted the Titan below her.

All that really came to her was that her body reached the end of the rooftop, still possessing velocity . . . velocity that was then compounded by gravity as she sailed downwards into the gaping mouth of a frog-faced Titan.

Her hand instinctively reached out to the rooftop, but it was already too late. The gap was too long, the edge too far. But still, something in her wanted to grab onto that roof again, to keep on living. There was light beyond that edge, a glimmer of beauty in a cruel world but she was uncertain whether that glimmer was real or a figment of her imagination, temporarily fragmented by the onset of pain throbbing in every part of her body. How she so wanted to reach it, how she wanted to survive . . . yet . . . yet Eren . . . how could she survive without Eren by her side . . . to protect . . . to cherish . . .

Strength renewed, she grabbed onto the Titan's teeth, taking great care not to put pressure on her fractured leg. Her good leg stomped on the tooth beside the lower incisor as she used her hands to keep the mouth open as far and as long as she could. But the renewed strength was running on a time limit. Her muscles were strained to the max as the Titan was showing exemplary power in its counter, in its desire to devour her whole. Slowly, painfully, her grip was slipping and the open wound on her left leg was beginning to sting like crazy with all the Titan saliva rinsing it.

She had to get out. She needed to get out!

But why? Why?

She looked up onto the rooftop again, that small part of her still wishing to grab onto the ledge and pull herself out of here, no matter how great the distance between them was. Light was blocked by a head peering over that ledge, and though the silhouette warped the face with darkness, Mikasa could instinctively tell that it was Armin.

"Mikasa!"

His voice rang loud, wakening her instincts further. She reached out with her right hand, as if to assure Armin that she—

The Titan's mouth closed shut, cutting off her arm . . . and whatever salvation she wanted to attain.

The bowel of a Titan was dark and slimy and hot. Mikasa had blacked out once the shock from the amputation of her right arm had worn out and she was introduced to a new definition of pain. The rigorous training she and the rest of the recruits had gone through for the better part of three years before their relocation to Trost all paled in comparison to this one devastating wound. Her blackout lasted for only twenty seconds—ample time for the rest of her body to travel the monster's esophagus and dive into the blood-filled stomach where dismembered cadavers float about like flower petals on a pond. Her nose and mouth had one intake of blood before she resurfaced, coughing up a storm and spitting out a lake.

Mikasa motioned for her right hand to wipe away the blood all over her face, but it was like her hand suddenly turned into a phantom. Pain was constant right now and maybe it was a bit of delirium lurking from the initial shock, but she honestly thought she still had her right arm intact. Now looking at the stump left behind, despite the trickles of blood clinging to her eyelashes, she realized her error and motioned for her left to do the task instead. It still throbbed, but she composed herself now. Such a thing was now just a secondary concern.

The heat, however, was unimaginable, and it proved the point that she really had been devoured by a Titan. The bodies of her comrades swam lifelessly around her and Mikasa felt as if she had entered a nightmare she could not wake from. A nightmare she chose for her own, because wasn't it due to her desire to fight and die that she was in this situation?

She chose to die fighting and she did.

Yet . . .

Why was a part of her still wanted to live? Why did it want to carry on, despite knowing that the world outside could be as cruel and painful as being slowly digested into a gelatinous cocoon for the Titan to regurgitate once there was no more room to eat? What was the point? Why did she have to keep on—

FIGHT!

A voice echoed in her head.

FIGHT! YOU HAVE TO FIGHT!

"E . . . ren . . .?"

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

"Eren . . ."

FIGHT!

"Eren . . . I'm sorry . . ."

In her haste to die, she did not think about what her actions entailed. If she were to die here, then why did Eren sacrifice his life for all those years ago? So that she could meet her end inside the belly of a Titan instead? No, he wouldn't want that. He'd refuse to even consider that Mikasa would give up like this. Fight because it was the only way. If she didn't fight, she already lost. If she did fight, she would have a chance at winning and survive. But as long as she didn't fight, then she would die.

She said those words not too long ago, yet she was nothing more than a hypocrite. They were borrowed words from a person far braver than she was. She was unwilling to face the truth, to face the world despite the cruelty, despite the sadness, despite the loss. When her parents died, she had been without hope or a future; Eren had been there to give her purpose once more, to show her that there was still beauty to be found in this cruel world. But when Eren's mother died, he found the will to go forward on his own. He might've been a little emotional for most of the weeks following Carla's death, maybe doing some stupider things than usual, but he didn't need her to soldier on. If left on his own, he'd most likely be fine. She, however, did not have that kind of motivation. So when she heard that Eren was killed, instead of learning from his example and soldier on, she decided 'To hell with this world!' and threw away everything.

"I'm so . . . so sorry, Eren . . ."

She regretted doing this, regretted never having the chance to save him when he needed her the most. And most of all, she regretted having to die because she would no longer have Eren live on in her memory. It would all come to an end soon, she realized. And there was nothing she could do to stop that.

FIGHT!

But . . . his voice nagged her. Encouraged her. Steeled her.

FIGHT!

No matter the odds. No matter that she was devoured. No matter that there was no way out in sight.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

She did not regain her resolve just so this insignificant Titan could crush it later.

FIGHT! FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

"I . . ."

She raised her dismembered arm, the ghost of her hand looking like it wanted to touch the sky.

FIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHT …

"I WILL LIVE!"

There was a feeling of weightlessness, of lightning pulsing in her body, of something wrapping all around her. Then everything went black.

And just as it did, a giant bloodied hand emerged from the frog Titan's mouth.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Well, after months of inactivity, I come out not with an update but a new story that I've been getting in my head. And it's a Shingeki no Kyojin story to boot, with Mikasa getting a Titan form! BOOYAH!

Anyway, for those of you there who want to know the fate of Princess of Death, My Girlfriend, and The Lost Girl, please head on over to my profile. I'll explain what I'm going to do with these 3 over there. The rest of the notes here will talk about what was going on in my mind when I decided to write things the way they are in this prologue.

Parallelism - I was aiming for parallelism here between Eren's "steps" into his first Titan transformation and Mikasa's own. With slight differences. Eren lost a whole leg, Mikasa just got hers fractured. Eren got eaten while saving Armin, Mikasa got eaten when she made a rookie mistake.

Serum, Creator or Activator - Now I have my own ideas about the serum Grisha administered to Eren, which also caused his amnesia. In my opinion, Eren is more likely a descendant of Titan-shifters (or maybe even part-Titan) and Grisha is fully aware of that and keeps all his notes in the basement. The serum itself is more like an amplifier or some kind of biological tutor for Eren's body to activate his latent power and instantly know how to use it to a degree.

Here in this fic, however, I'm going for the serum being some Titan steroid. Mikasa stumbles upon Grisha injecting Eren with this serum, he saw her, she asks him what the hell he was doing, so he explains a bit (this part is grayed out because while Mikasa will remember this conversation at some point later, she won't remember everything due to the drug's amnesia effects), then gives her the serum as well because she knew in her heart of hearts that this was a power that could protect Eren better in the future.

Anything more than that is still in the conceptual stage.

Mikasa is OP now! - I'm also going to have to address these moments I keep having, and no doubt dozens of reader will feel the same way. The thing about Shingeki no Kyojin is that it always tries to bring down humanity's side, abusing it as much as it could without really putting that ultimatum of defeat on their heads, because it's all about humanity managing to survive through these countless defeats to finally have a chance at fighting back, to prove that their spirit will forever be pushing forward. Well, that's an optimistic POV, and such optimism could get you killed in this universe. Maybe. As it is now, I have my own twists regarding Mikasa's new transformation. Twists that will be introduced in future chapters.