i noticed that there were no multi-chapter highschool/middle school aus for the eremika ship, which disappointed me. so yeah, i wrote this.

She could remember it so clear, as clear as cut glass. Mikasa was only eleven when she had first met Eren Jaeger.

It had been early August and summer vacation was in full swing. The sun rose heartily to greet everyone with its pulsing rays, bringing on a heat that only the gentle breeze could mellow. Small flowers swayed mildly in the wind, their delicate petals fluttering lightly. Mikasa sat in the park, the grass cushioning her, as she watched other children fool around, giggling helplessly. Maybe if she had been in any other frame of mind, she'd have approached them and asked to join in their games. Maybe they would have accepted too. Making friends had been effortless, second nature for Mikasa. But ever since she had moved to Shinganshina, she felt as though it was the most challenging act in the world.

Her parents had gotten jobs that required them to work arduous and excruciating long hours, so she had been shifted into the responsibility of a care-taker called Ms. Ral. She was very old, her face adorned with scars and creases, and her skin seemed to several sizes too large for her skull. Although she didn't look like it, she had been part of the military, a special ops group that only exceptionally talented people were allowed to join. Despite her age, Ms. Ral was a passionate woman, never hesitating to tell the stories from her military days. She would speak of foreign lands with names Mikasa struggled to pronounce, of binary code and binoculars, of the brink of death and the birth of life. And although many of the tales were so far-fetched that many adults couldn't bring themselves to believe a word, Mikasa found herself whole-heartedly accepting every syllable.

"When I grow up," she declared one evening. "I want to be just like you!" And Ms. Ral would smile that smile that always seemed to warm Mikasa's tummy, and offered her another raison cookie. She really enjoyed spending time with her.

Until Eren came along. Mikasa had just been sitting on the grass when she first caught sight of him, absorbed in her own thoughts. A shiver of hollow pain stabbed through her stomach. She was hungry. Not really surprising. Losing track of time was something that too often happened to her; her parents scolded her for it often. She stood up to go and ask Ms. Ral if she could have her lunch, her usual cheese sandwich wrapped in cling foil. Spotting Ms. Ral was easy enough. Despite the thin, frail body that old age had granted her, she still acquired a certain presence, one that demanded respect. Everyone felt her the authority she exuded, regardless of whether or not they knew of her military history. She was sitting on the bench, knitting a wool jumper, the image of a typical old woman. A middle-aged couple, accompanied by a young child who looked around Mikasa's age, was talking to her with blatant enthusiasm. This wasn't exactly surprising. Ms. Ral was lovely and getting along with her was easy enough. She was almost constantly socializing and speaking to others, to the point that Mikasa had a hard time getting a word in edgeways outside of the privacy of her home. She couldn't see the two adults very well as they weren't facing here. That wasn't what made Mikasa stop in her tracks though. It was the young boy that made her feel uneasy.

Even from a distance, Mikasa could tell that he didn't look like the kind of person she would want to get to know, not ever. He had brown hair, cut in a rugged choppy style that looked terrible. It looked like he'd tried cutting it himself and failed. Actually, that was probably just what happened. The denim of his jeans must have been blue once, but were now caked in crusty layer of dirt that obscured the colour completely. He had food around his mouth, which was set in a heavy scowl, and his hands were clenched into fists. Mikasa narrowed her eyes as she looked him. Ah, yes. These were the kind of people her parents had warned her about. The town hooligans, her mother called them as. They were apparently savages who had no care for anything that wasn't following their own selfish whims. They were ferocious scallywags whose presence left a plague upon wherever they went, a bitter taste in everyone's mouth. Mikasa felt offended that this boy was even in the same park as someone as lovely as Ms. Ral, let alone having the gall to standing next to her.

She only found out later that this boy, Eren was his name, had started going to Ms. Ral's to be looked after too. His mother had apparently landed herself a rather flashy job, but at the expense of having little time to look after her troublesome son as she used to. With her husband already occupied in a similarly demanding job, they were forced to hire a nanny to take care of him. Ms. Ral was ideal. That day was the first time Mikasa met Eren.

And she did not like him at first sight. Nor at second, or third or fourth or fifth. She learnt very quickly by observing him that he was intense and volatile. His hotheadedness seemed to radiate off of him. She would have found it almost intimidating if it hadn't made her skin crawl. The boy was ridiculous and seemed to have no concept of self-control. This was something she learnt only within a few days of meeting him. He was constantly getting into fights with others and seemed completely reluctant in taking responsibility for his fights, always preferring to blame it on the people he was fighting.

"You should have heard it what he said! He deserved it, you know he did!" he would declare when Ms. Ral would chide him for his violence.

"Eren," she would say sternly. "If he is being rude, you either walk away or tell me and I'll sort it out with his parents. Violence is not the solution."

"Funny words for someone who used to work in the military," he'd always mumble under his breath so Ms. Ral couldn't hear him.

It wasn't just his quick-tempered nature that got on Mikasa's nerves. It seemed in many ways the two were opposites. Her hair was always combed into a neat style, not a hair out of place, whilst his was a wiry mess, one he didn't seem concerned with fixing in the least. She would spend her time reading or writing, he would play in the mud. She would listen to soft country music, he would listen to aggressive rock and roll. She was a lady. He was a hooligan. And Mikasa was most certainly intolerant of hooligans.

"Ms. Ral," she sighed one day, unable to take more of the annoying little boy. The idiot was playing jenga and had managed to break the window! How does that even happen, she questioned. How does someone play an innocuous game involving pulling little bits of wood out of a large wooden constitution and result in a window breaking? Yet more proof that he should stay away from her.

"Why does he have to be here? Things were more fun with just the two of us! That Eren is just a menace!" She ranted, nodding her head vigorously, as though encouraging Ms. Ral to agree with her. But the old woman just threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh in reply.

"He doesn't look it, but he's a sweet boy, my darling," she cooed gently. "He's a trouble magnet but he's got his heart in the right place. Give him a chance." Mikasa was unusually sceptical of Ms Ral's words. Did hooligans really deserve to be given chances?

Perhaps having Eren living under the same caretaker as her wouldn't have been so irksome to her if she had somebody to complain to about him, someone who didn't immediately insist she was being unreasonable. A friend, maybe? But whenever she saw another child at the park, she could hardly muster up the courage to talk them and just ended up angry at herself. It was true that she would start going to middle school in a little under two weeks anyway, so it didn't really matter that much if she couldn't make any friends for now. However, she still felt herself getting uneasy; what if she couldn't make any friends in middle school? Mikasa sighed, depression coursing through her.

Moving to Shinganshina had been tough for her, for her whole family also. Her parents had owned a farm, nothing too flashy. They only had a few fields of barley and potatoes, as well as two chickens and a cow. Every month, they scraped up enough crops, along with eggs and milk, to be sold at the market and lived off that money. Her father had a side job of being the History teacher at her elementary school, a fact that Mikasa had found painfully embarrassing at the time.

Things started going downhill two years ago. Farming was a precarious job. It took only one unfortunate season of bad weather to ruin all their crops. That had taken a big hit on them financially. They'd managed to recover from it admirably, but when bad weather struck yet again the next winter, that alone had practically ruined. However, what was really just the last straw that finally caused the family to move out and give up farming was when one of the big companies in the more industrial districts decided to set up a large grocery store. The prices were cheap and they had a large variety of products in stock. After that, people stopped going to the Ackermans for food. Why would they? Why buy from a local farm what you can get in a convenience store ten times cheaper?

There was a limit to how much food the Ackermans could produce. They only had so much land they could utilize. They couldn't afford to bring down their prices by a single penny. For a few weeks, they still tried to carry out farming as a living. They walked up to the Sunday market as usual and balanced their crops on the shelves, arranging them to look as appealing as possible; anything to lure in customers.

Hardly anyone came. Wherein before they were able to sell the majority of their crops by the day's end, they had only managed to sell an egg and two potatoes, the combined price of which was $10. That incident had been the final straw.

It was a dreary Wednesday morning when her parents had decided to inform Mikasa of the fact that they were moving out. Mikasa had been spooning porridge into her mouth, anxiety coiling in her stomach as she realised she forgot to do homework that was due in today. Her father walked into the kitchen, a grave expression on his face. Mikasa didn't find this at all surprising. Her parents seemed to always be looking miserable these days, constantly sighing and rubbing their foreheads with distress. Don't do that, Mikasa wanted to tell them. If you do that, you'll lose all your hair! But she kept her mouth shut, simply observing her parents become more and more unhappy, not knowing how to offer them comfort.

Her father sat on one of the chairs heavily.

"Mikasa, your mother and I have something to tell you," he said. "We're going to move out of this house." Mikasa blinked, bored.

"Okay. Can the new house we go to be closer to the school? I'm tired of walking there everyday! It makes me so tired," she said. Her father smiled sadly at her.

"Mikasa, it takes 10 minutes for you to walk there at maximum. And no we can't move closer to the school. We're moving out of this district."

As he said that, she felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. The nearest district was at least 20 miles away.

"Out of the district?" she repeated faintly. "That means I won't be able to see my friends."

"No. No you won't. I'm sorry. There's not really another option. We can't afford to live here any more as farmers."

Mikasa wanted to kick up a tantrum. But she had known, on some subconscious level, that this was happening. Why else did her parents, who had once been so happy, look depressed all the time, and now argued constantly? Why did the food they buy suddenly taste so bad? Why didn't she have any Christmas presents this year? Why had her mother been so insistent that she turned off all the lights because "god damn it, Mikasa, we don't have that much money for you to waste!"? Still, she felt as though her feet were being pulled out from under her.

"When? When are we moving?"

"Two weeks." Two weeks. Not even a month. How long had her parents been hiding this from her? But she couldn't even work up any shadow of indignation. Any kind of anger was eclipsed by the heavy depression that overcame her. The only good thing about that day was the fact that her father had allowed her to stay off school, which she spent by moping around and watching boring TV.

True to his word, the family moved out in two weeks time. It was tough. Adjusting from farm life to being industrial workers had been difficult enough for her parents – it didn't help that Shinganshina was completely different from the district she used to live in. She missed her old life. She missed sitting in the bewhiskered barley fields. She missed lying by the local river, letting its chill lap gently at her small toes, which usually flushed pink as a result of the cold. She missed visiting the local pub with her parents every Friday evening. And above all, she missed her friends, missed being able to play with them everyday, missed the elaborate jokes and games they used to come up with. Back home, she had always had an abundance of friends. But here in Shinganshina, she didn't have any friends at all. She just simply couldn't find the courage to talk to anyone – everything here was so different, so intimidatingly unfamiliar. The whole district was one massive concrete maze, composed of car parks and street lamps. Every building in the area had loud and explosive graffiti, scribbled hastily in vulgar urban tongue. There was too much of everything – of people, of shops, of services and commodities. Everything seemed to be going on at once, which was reflected in the rushed pace that was suffocatingly inescapable. You couldn't walk five feet down a street without a stranger insisting you fill out their questionnaire or take a newspaper or try a sample of some ice cream brand which will probably go bust in a matter of months. In just a few weeks of living here, Mikasa could feel herself going mad.

She had tried voicing her complains to Ms. Ral, but she would probably just suggest making friends with Eren. She was desperate for friends, sure, but she still had standards, for God's sake. She'd picking no friends over having a posse of hooligans for pals. So, she went to her parents next, hoping they could offer her the kind of wisdom she needed.

"Mom, Dad," she sighed one day. "I really hate living here! I have no friends still!"

"Isn't there another boy at Ms. Ral's house? Why can't you make friends with him?" her mother suggested. Mikasa rolled her eyes.

"I can't make friends with him because he is dumb!" she declared angrily, like it was obvious. Her parents exchanged a look between them.

"Well, me and your father have been talking about it for a while, but -" her mother started. Mikasa cut her off.

"Aren't your friends from college coming over today?" For the last couple of days, her parents had been raving on about getting together with another family, who they had apparently been friends with for quite a few years – today would be something of a reunion. Mikasa found herself starkly disinterested, but could understand why they were so excited to see these friends of theirs. If Mikasa got the opportunity to meet with her old friends now, she'd be excited too – and she'd only been separated from them for a month!

"That's right. They have a small boy, your age, who I hear is very nice. He's probably coming over too. Maybe you could try making friends with him?" her mother asked hopefully. Mikasa's eyes widened.

"I would love that!" she cried, throwing her arms around her Mum, who was laughing gently. A 'very nice' boy for her to make friends with. She could hardly wait.

Apparently meeting these people was a pretty big deal because she remembered that she was sent to help with the housework for the rest of the day, trying to make their house look as impressive as possible. It was hard though. Despite having moved in a month ago, they still hadn't succeeded in properly organising their possessions; their home was covered in a cascade of slopping plastic bags, towering columns of broken cardboard boxes, their old possessions that had been so carefully organised in their old home strewn out across the floor in an incredibly undignified manner.

Whilst her mother polished the toilets and the sinks around the house, her and her father got to work on opening up the cardboard boxes and deciding what should be thrown or kept. As she slowly unpacked each box, a wave of nostalgia gently lapped at her heart. All their photos, souvenirs, gifts and memories were here. She found it hard to pick what you should thrown or kept (she wanted to keep everything), so eventually her father did the job, while she skipped about between the bins.

The whole while, she was wondering absent-mindedly what this boy would be like. Was he nice? Would he be unimpressed upon the first sight? Would he act like every boy on the cusp of adulthood is supposed to act, unenthusiastic and bad-tempered? Mikasa thought for a moment.

"Dad," Mikasa asked. "This boy who is coming over with your friends, do you know his name?"

What does he look like? What are his hobbies, his likes and dislikes? How tall is he? What's his star sign?

"Uh, no actually. I forgot to ask," her father replied, his tone of voice indicating that he was concentrating on something else. "Sorry," he added after a second.

"It's fine!" Mikasa said. "I'll find out his name when he gets here."

Despite the distinct lack of time and the load of work there was to do, her family had collectively managed to organise the entire house and clean it up until it was presentable. Seven o'clock came, bringing the night with it. And with the coming of the night, came this mysterious family, signified by a loud, hearty know at the door of the Ackerman household.

"They're here!" Mikasa hissed in a hushed whisper. She felt her stomach coil with excitement.

Her mother quickly rushed down the staircase to open the door. The family stepped in, chatting quietly. Mikasa could see a middle-aged man and women, who Mikasa could only assume were married, the Mr. and Mrs. of the family. The woman had a kind face, gently creased into a kind smile. Her dark hair was tied into a very low ponytail and she was kitted out in garments that were obviously more partial to comfort than fashion. The father had a wise and serious face. His eyes, however, had a very warm twinkle to it that assured Mikasa that he was probably pretty nice. He had a goatee and glasses that kept sliding down his hooked nose every other second. Finally, a boy followed in, probably the boy she meant to become friends with. He looked pretty similar to his Mum, aside from the more obviously masculine features. He had dark messy hair and very green eyes. The two looked at each other at the exact same time. With a wave of disappointment, Mikasa realised she already knew exactly who this boy was. On the bright side, at least she knew what his name was now.

"You again!" Mikasa hissed at Eren. Eren just frowned at her. Both sets of parents wore the same confused expression on their face.

"You know each other?" Eren's mother asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes! We both go to Ms. Ral's!" Mikasa said. Her dad scratched his head, a confused look on his face.

"I didn't know Eren went to Ms. Ral's!" her father said heartily. "I knew a boy went there but I never thought it'd be him!" Mikasa sighed. She wanted to tell her Dad to stop looking so cheerful. This was no laughing matter.

"Well," Ms. Jaeger said. "It's great that you two know each other." Mikasa frowned, but she didn't want to say anything. Eren's mum seemed nice. She didn't want to offend her by telling her that she didn't think much of her son. Although it begged the question; how did a woman like her manage to raise a son like him?

"Mikasa, do you want to take Eren up to your room?" her Mum asked. No Mikasa wanted to say. My room is a clean place for clean, civilized people! Rowdy boys don't belong in there. Especially not rowdy boys with dumb hair!

But with Mr and Ms. Jaeger there, she couldn't really say that.

"You can bring up some sweets with you, if you want," her dad added. Mikasa grabbed two packets of sweets, toffee-flavoured popcorn and some haribos.

"Come," she told Eren. "I'll show you my room." He nodded and followed. Mikasa scrambled up the stairs, Eren behind her.

Mikasa opened the door to her room, letting Eren walking in before closing it. She still couldn't believe she was in this situation. The two stood in Mikasa's room, silence in between them. Mikasa wanted to say something but couldn't really think of a word that wouldn't offend the young boy. Come to think of it, it was best that she was in good terms with him. After all, considering the fact that their parents were close, there was a pretty high chance that they may be seeing even more of each other than they already did. If she still disliked him, it was be pretty awkward for her parents if they wanted to invited the Jaegers over again.

Whilst she was thinking this, Eren fiddled with one of her possessions, although she couldn't see exactly what it was. The thick silence stayed ever present, only interrupted later as he asked a question:

"Where did you get this?" he asked, still fingering the possession. Mikasa peered to see what it was. It was an action figurine that she had got from one of her old friends back in her old home. She hadn't really thought much of it and had considering throwing it away.

"A friend gave it to me," she shrugged, not really understanding the significance of the question. "I think he got it out of one of those kinder egg things."

"Oh," Eren mumbled, still staring at the figure. "Because this one is really rare, y'know? Me and my friend are trying to collect them. We've almost got the whole collection but we've never been able to find this guy. We must have gone through like a thousand dollars worth of kinder eggs by now." Eren looked up, making eye contact with her for the first time since they'd been in the room together.

"Oh, um, I didn't know it was that much of a big deal." Mikasa thought for a second. "You can keep it if you want. I don't really care about it too much."

"Seriously?"

"Sure. Why not." Eren smiled.

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome." Mikasa found herself feeling impressed. This was the first time she'd had a verbal exchange with him that consisted of more than just her grunting out one syllable words when he spoke to her. He wasn't so bad, actually.

"We don't really speak much at Ms. Ral's, do we?" Mikasa asked. Eren shrugged.

"I guess not."

"Should we speak more often?" Mikasa prodded.

"If you want."

"Um," Mikasa racked her head for ideas for something to say, but was continuously coming up with blanks. "So, what do you want to do? Should we watch a movie?" She moved to the piles of DVDS that rested in her shelf.

"What have you got?"

"Uh, we could watch Billy Elliot?" she suggested timidly. She'd always loved that film. It'd been one of her favourites since she was five. Eren snorted.

"Isn't it about some boy who wants to do ballet?" he sniggered. "That sounds so lame." She huffed angrily at his words.

"Have you even watched it?"

"No..."

" How can you say it's bad when you've never even watched it then? Just give it a chance," she insisted, plucking the DVD from the shelf. Eren eyed it, disdain obvious in his eyes.

"Fine," he sighed, throwing up his hands. "But after, we're watching something cooler than this."

Mikasa nodded, but didn't say anything. Truth be told, she was just happy that she was making a friend for the first time since moving here, even if it was the last person she'd expected. She offered Eren the bag of toffee-flavour popcorn, which he accepted eagerly.

It turns out that, after watching Billy Elliot, Eren thought it was a lot better than he'd previously imagined.

"It wasn't terrible," he said, munching on the popcorn. "Its quite good once the pace picks up but the beginning is so boring." Mikasa frowned at his words. Then she looked at the bag of toffee popcorn that she hadn't so much as touched yet.

"Eren? What the hell!" she hissed angrily.

"What?" he said, confused.

"You've eaten the whole thing!" she whined, pointing at the practically empty bag he was clutching.

"What? I-oh," he peered back down at the bag. Only a few crumbs were left.

"That's not even fair! I didn't get any at all!" Mikasa said.

"Alright, stop getting so angry," he sighed. "I'll pay you back tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. At Ms. Ral's, I'll bring you some sweets."

"I don't want sweets. I want popcorn. Specifically, toffee-flavoured popcorn."

"I'll bring that tomorrow, you don't need to get all worried." Mikasa still felt angry but dropped it. She'd get her toffee popcorn tomorrow.

For their next film, Eren had picked an action flick, just as Mikasa had expected. He chose Con Air. They only managed to get through the first half an hour of it, however, it was still a pretty surreal experience. Eren kept gasping at every predictable turn of events, and spoke through almost every minute of the film;

"That's so unfair, he shouldn't have to go to prison for that!"

"Crap! He just took him down! Took him down like it didn't mean squat, didn't he, Mikasa?"

However, after the first half hour, Mikasa's father staggered in. A flush coloured his cheeks and his movements seemed slow, clumsy. Probably drunk too much wine.

"Mikasa," he mumbled, his voice slurring. "It's time for Eren to go home now."

"Aw, but we were just going to watch Con Air!" Eren protested sadly. He turned to Mikasa. "I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow at Ms. Ral's?"

"Yep. I will see you then!" Mikasa felt a little sad to see him leave. They'd only spent the time watching movies, but she hadn't felt that kind of companionship that being with another kid brought in a long time.

The Jaegers left swiftly, waving goodbye as they left. Mikasa along with her parents, saw them out the door, waving back. The door to the Ackerman house clicked shut gently, and with that, the Jaegers were gone into the night. Mikasa wondered up to her room, quickly changed into her pyjamas and then, she laid in bed, going over the day's events in her head. Within a minute, she was unconscious.

xxx