The orphanage was home to only a handful of orphans, roughly 7. Rather than the traditional orphanage that housed more than 30 with a regimented schedule for every day, chores split up between groups of children, meals cooked and served in bulk, this particular orphanage emitted the feeling of a real home. It was a cozy little house with 4 bedrooms each arranged with bunk beds and twin desks for two kids to study and sleep in, the aroma of mashed potatoes and beef stew permeated all throughout, and paned with wood flooring that reflected the warm, auburn glow of the ambient lighting that made your eyes droopy if you sat still for too long (rather than those unflattering fluorescent lights resembling those in factories). Those that lived here never thought of the place as a reminder of grief and sorrow; they knew they were well taken care of and most importantly, loved.

The children that were raised here grew up to be beautiful, well-rounded children, for they were encouraged to pick up an instrument or kick a ball around outside to remain active both physically and mentally. They were also required to attend school, since the public schools around the area were free of cost. By the time the kids reached a certain age, they would have already a level of self-reliance and maturity, a redeeming quality in an orphan that is to be adopted. Levi, having reached that level of self-reliance at a very young age, still lacked maturity, which resulted in coming home every day with cuts and bruises from another back-alley fight he probably lost.

By the time he reached his 13th birthday, most of the kids he grew up with in the orphanage had already been adopted. When potential parents would come to observe the children in the game room, they noticed almost all of the children gleamed with bright, shining faces and smiles that reached from ear to ear, working on a puzzle or reading an I SPY book in the middle of the room. Except for two. The smallest little boy with jet black hair sat on the piano bench (not playing piano, he sat on the bench backwards), swinging his little legs and being tended to by a girl with a red scarf wrapped around her neck. He was ruffling to get leaves out of his hair while the girl was cleaning the long cut he received when he fell down from a tree he attempted to climb not long before the potential parents started observing them. He was disheveled and looked like a brat so naturally they didn't think anything of him. This scenario happened often, which was unfortunate for Levi. He was often misunderstood as a heartless rebel, but those who talked to him on a daily basis was well aware of his kind and loving demeanor. He was just never given much of a chance.

One by one, kids were being adopted and the caretaker of the orphanage took in new kids. By the time he reached the beginning of his last year of junior high, Levi and Mikasa were the only two from the original group of children that had yet to be adopted. While it was more of a choice for Mikasa (she refused to leave Levi's side and vowed to protect him always), there was just no pair of people that were interested in adopting the poor boy. As couples start to think about having children, they envision a life together with a child always asking for hugs and kisses that eventually grow up to be loving towards not only them, but to their friends and future family. Levi, for most people, wasn't the "ideal" child for this clouded vision. Instead, he preferred to be alone, studying, taking a walk, finding the highest possibly branch on a tree to sit on for several hours, and just didn't bother doing anything with others around him. One splendid afternoon, as Levi was sitting on a stone bench in the garden out back petting a squirrel in his lap, he glanced up to see Mikasa close the sliding door behind her as she pulled her scarf up to her face. Something's wrong. An intuition Levi was able to pick up just from looking at her eyes.

"Levi. A family is interested in adopting me."


"O-oh. I see." He knew it was about time that a family had taken interested in Mikasa. She was doting, protective, intelligent, and well mannered; any family would be lucky to take her in. "Hm. Any reason why you're telling me? What do you intend to do?" His demeanor was cold and blunt, but Mikasa knew he was just scared. "I'm not really sure. I thought I'd ask you first. What do you think I should do?"

"What the hell? It's your life, isn't it? You don't need my approval for anything, geez." He averted his gaze and glanced down at the ground, trying to hide his sadness and holding back tears. What a wimp. Let her go. She needs a family more than she needs me. "Mikasa. In the long run, it's best to grow up with a solid foundation and family. I will write to you every day, that's no problem. It would make me happy if you went with them. Well, if you like them anyways. They might not even deserve you for all I know. Tch, how troublesome."

She wasn't expecting that. She had grown accustomed to Levi reaching his hand out and asking her to hang out with him, to study with him, to be by his side always, but what came out of his mouth was anything but what she was prepared to hear. "They have a son named Eren. He's our age. Maybe he's nice. I don't know."

"Are you attracted to your soon-to-be adopted brother that you've never met before or something?" Levi chuckled before Mikasa's palm made contact to the back of his head. "I was just kidding! There's nothing wrong with lightening the mood." Levi smiled his genuine smile that lit up every room; a smile Mikasa would miss the most when she leaves. He was hurting, but was considerate enough to trick Mikasa into thinking he was okay as always.

By the end of the week, the room that used to occupy the two kids now only housed one. There were still two desks and the bunk bed stayed intact, but the desk was now gathering dust in the corner. Their parting was sad but brief, for both of them felt the need to hold back tears. Their last hug was longer than they expected, trying to hide their faces in attempt to keep their pride from crumbling before them.

The car left the driveway.

Mikasa cried.

Levi wept.


"Dammit, get the fuck off of me, you assface."

He was in the alley once more, though he had been initiating the fights as of late, not for fun, but for revenge. After Mikasa had left, he decided to transform his bedroom into a training room, promising himself that he would not longer feel the need to rely on others. Through strength tests, circuits, and morning runs, he developed his own sense of maturity. It was unconventional – he refused to open up to others and spent most of his time confined to his bedroom. He grew a bit and was slender, with muscles that could be defined through his shirt. He dressed like he was much older than 13, taking on a particular interest in cravats and blazers. He also developed a "not-taking-this-shit" attitude, which landed him a spot in the "list of dangerous students" his peers at school mentally took note of and that's how he ended up on his stomach, hands held behind his back by the another "dangerous student" that got into fights with Levi often.

You'll regret this, assface. With a certain grace to it, the back of Levi's head swung backwards, making a dent in the other's forehead, knocking him off of Levi's back and squirming on the ground before him. Jumping up, Levi placed his hands firmly into his pants pockets and gave the student a definitive kick to the stomach before fixing his cravat. "That's what fuckers like you get when you picked on me as a child." Putting pressure on his back heel, he swiveled himself around and walked away, without a scratch on his face.

He didn't include events like these in the letters he sent to Mikasa. He wanted to preserve the memories he had with her in a separate part of his past, a part he would be proud to look back on. By the time he reached high school, the Levi Mikasa knew was tucked away deep inside of him. The smile he once flashed so brightly was now bent downwards into a thin, straight line. He was indifferent to anything and everything.

Levi and Mikasa, along with Eren, Mikasa's adopted brother, were accepted to Trost High, a prestigious school for the gifted and talented.

But Mikasa hardly recognized who Levi was when she saw him across the cafeteria on the first day of school.

Levi's scars by 14 years of age: the tearing of his soul as he saw the deaths of his parents before his very eyes, a gash on the bottom of his foot from when he scoured the grave streets for food and shelter, open glass wounds from the watch his beloved grandfather left him, stitch patterns underneath his layer of pitch black hair from when his head made contact to the wall that one foggy night, the long cut on his stomach the afternoon he fell from a tree, a repaired fracture in his foot when he dropped a dumbbell on it on the first day of strength training, the irreparable scars he received countless times from overhearing potential parents tell the caretaker of the orphanage that they believe Levi should be looked at, and the severing of the familial ties he made with Mikasa growing up as she left the orphanage.

(Levi. High school. Coming soon. Reviews appreciated ^.^)