New story arc time! I am shit at worldbuilding, which is why I am so comfortable writing canon fanfiction. Hopefully, though the scenes below don't seem too pathetic.

Warning: Strong language up ahead. Like, really. F-bombs galore. Apologies in advance.

Thanks for the favourites and follows! I hope the story meets with your expectations with each update! :)

The Refugee Allocation Project - Part I

"Hey," Eren's voice was low, tight.

"What happened?" She took one look at his expression and could not hide her concern.

"Nothing happened," Eren snapped irritably, sitting down opposite her with his tray. "Relax, already."

Armin sat down next to her, his plate nearly empty. Mikasa glanced at the plate, then at him. Armin stared back resolutely. "I'm not hungry."

She continued to stare at him, but while this tactic still worked on Eren, Armin had now learnt to match her stare with an even gaze of his own. Armin is growing up, too, she realised, with another pang of hurt.

She saw a pink bruise under Armin's eye, so light it could be missed. But she didn't miss it, and brushed her finger on his cheek. He flinched hard.

"This is new," she murmured.

Armin exchanged a glance with Eren. "I walked into a pole," he said.

"A pole," she repeated flatly.

"Yes."

"It was an ugly pole," Eren supplied. Both the boys smirked.

"You're hopeless," she sighed. "I'm asking for a transfer tomorrow."

"Stop mothering us, Mikasa!" Eren snarled. "We can take care of ourselves!"

"Remember what we discussed last night, Eren?" She looked at him, and was satisfied to see his scowl slip off his face.

Armin looked between the two of them, blue eyes flickering rapidly. "What did you discuss?" When neither of them answered, he frowned. "Don't tell me you made some sort of agreement with respect to my safety." Mikasa kept her deadpan expression but was internally marvelling at how quickly Armin had guessed the truth. Eren's expression was more easy to read.

Armin shot up and banged his plate on the table. "How many times have I told the two of you? I will not be a burden. Stop trying to make me yours!"

A few people nearby looked up from their dinner. Eren and Mikasa, both stunned by this outburst, started to speak, but Armin stormed off before a single sentence was uttered, casting away his untouched food at the disposal counter.

Mikasa looked at Eren, worried. "He needs to eat."

"I'll sneak something over for him," he assured her.

She sighed. "Will you please tell me what happened?"

"Just drop it, Mikasa," Eren snapped, his expression darkening again. "I wanted to ask you something anyway."

"What is it?"

"I want to start sparring again. With you."

Mikasa looked up at him, alarmed. Very soon after the fall of Shiganshina, Eren had insisted on bettering his physical skills as much as he could. That included having Mikasa spar with him for an hour everyday. Needless to say, it went badly. For days Mikasa clearly held herself back, until Eren had yelled at her and goaded her into using her full force. Eren had been out of commission for two days, whereas Mikasa, Armin, and his grandfather had to work extra to earn enough rations. They never got back to sparring again.

Until now. "What? You can't be serious!"

"Why not?" Eren muttered testily. "I want to practice. And Armin wants to join us, too."

Mikasa dropped her spoon. "No. I won't do it."

"We're joining the Training Corps in less than six months! We need to train before we get there."

"We can start training there. It's called the Training Corps."

"Don't get smart with me," Eren scowled, but she was glad to see a twinkle in his eye at that terrible joke. "Anyway, Armin's joining us this time. He's actually drawn up a training plan for us and everything. Please, Mikasa," all his rage slipped out of his visage, leaving behind only the desperation. "We need to do this."

Mikasa wavered. "I… I'll have a look at Armin's plan first."

"Yeah, of course! I mean, you can change it and stuff, depending on how you want it to go." Eren looked so eager, she felt slightly mollified, enough to ignore her misgivings.

"Alright, then. Are you done?"

Eren scarfed the rest of his meal down, barring some rice dumplings, which he carefully wrapped in an empty cracker wrapper. Mikasa saved some stew, and they somehow managed to sneak the food out, and made their way to the boys' cottage.

Mikasa set about to work the following day with a vengeance. She blazed through the sowing she had been assigned, and managed to spare herself a half hour before lunch. She made her way to the Overseer's office, which was a wall-less hut with a crude wooden desk and chairs.

The Overseer was a short man, shorter than even her, and she was still growing. He sat behind the desk glaring at some papers, his balding forehead in his hands.

He didn't sense her approach, so she tapped on a wooden beam sharply. His head shot up.

"What is it? Why aren't you working?"

"I'm done."

"Done, is it? What were you assigned today?"

She told him. The Overseer raised one bushy eyebrow. "That's the area on the side of the hills, yes?"

She simply nodded.

"Well, what do you want? More work, eh? There's plenty to go around."

"I want to be reassigned."

"Oh? Where to?"

"Construction."

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. "Now, now, young lady," he said, in a manner so condescending she wanted to slam his head into his dingy desk, "you may be good at the farming, but that doesn't mean you're fit for construction. That's hard work, you know. A man's job."

Mikasa fought to keep her voice level. "I think you'll find I am capable enough."

"I'm sure you think you are. I, however, have neither the time nor the patience to test that fact." His face slackened and he looked bad-tempered again. "Now, get going."

"But-"

"I said, get going, brat." He flashed her one last dark-eyed look of venom, and turned to another man who had stepped into the hut.

Stiff with anger, she strode over to the desk and slammed her palms on it, making the desk wobble and both men jump. "I want to be reassigned."

"Holy Sina," the Overseer swore. "Alright, I'll think about it! Now, get the fuck out."

Mikasa gave him a long, murderous glare for good measure, then turned away. She knew it was the most she could hope for at this point.

Later that evening after work, Mikasa hurried over to the boys' cottage, where they were already waiting for her.

"There you are!" Eren exclaimed. "We only have a half hour before dinner, come on!"

Under Armin's supervision, Mikasa and Eren began to spar.

"Remember," Armin said, tapping the paper where he'd drawn up the training plan. "Only grappling for now. We'll practise stances and postures, and move on to offensive moves when we've mastered these."

Eren grunted to show he understood. He was so easy to read by now; he clearly did not like this part, which involved no blows nor fisticuffs. He was itching to move on to offensive moves and it showed.

"Eren, stop." She told him. He kept pushing at her, his nails cutting into her wrists. "Eren."

"Just fight, Mikasa!"

"No." She locked her elbows, did a quick, easy sidestep that sent Eren tumbling past her and he fell hard, face-first.

He sat up, his face all dirty and scrunched up in pain. "What the hell, Mikasa!"

She crossed her arms. "I told you to stop. That's not the way to do it."

He scowled and scrambled to his feet. "Why the hell not? I'm not punching the shit out of you, am I?"

Mikasa sighed. "Armin?" She would rather he explained it.

Armin scratched his head nervously. "Erm, you're still on the offensive, Eren. You're pushing too hard. Your focus should be making sure she doesn't push you."

"But she isn't pushing!" Eren spat. "She's holding herself back again."

"You said you wanted to learn." She deadpanned.

Eren's eyes darkened with anger. "Don't get too full of yourself. Fucking fight me, already."

Mikasa sighed softly. She had long since given up on getting Eren to stop swearing. And she knew the look on his face very well.

She reverted to her starting pose, legs apart, arms let loose, but hands in fists. "Fine. Let's start over."

Eren glared at her as if to say, you'd better do it right, this time.

I know, Eren.

She waited, and, sure enough, he charged. Immediately, she brought up her arms, crossed at the wrists. The force of his charge made her budge backwards an inch.

Eren noticed. "No holding back, remember?" he growled. She huffed and closed her eyes, trying to pretend that someone unimportant, some violent stranger was attacking her.

It worked. She dipped into the power within her, so familiar now, and locking her muscles in place, she turned to stone.

Eren pushed for five whole seconds and let out a frustrated growl when she didn't budge.

"Stop," she said, and this time Eren listened and let go of her arms sulkily. "Did you see my stance? My position?"

"Uh, yeah." She glanced at Armin again, and again, Armin explained for her, elaborating how she had placed her feet, how she had set her shoulders to offset the force of Eren's push. Mikasa added her bit at the end, explaining to him how exactly she distributed her weight across her stance so that his push would not knock her off-balance.

Eren, though he still looked sullen, nodded to everything they told him.

"Again," he muttered and raised his fists. But here they were interrupted by a loud clanging. The dinner bell.

Eren let his arms drop with a snarl of frustration. "We'll start earlier tomorrow," Armin said in his calming tone.

Mikasa nodded. "I'll try finishing work sooner."

Eren simply huffed and stalked away. Mikasa exchanged glances with Armin, and then, with matching sighs, they both followed him to the dining hall.

The next afternoon she finished her work early again, and, once more, made her way to the Overseer's office. The hut now had walls under construction on three sides. The Overseer looked just as he had the previous day. He was even wearing the same clothes.

When Mikasa walked in, he was in an animated discussion with a soldier from the Military Police.

"How long does it take to allocate a fucking table?"

The soldier seemed unfazed by his language.

"Calm down, Jacob."

"No, I will not calm the fuck down!" The Overseer yelled, a vein throbbing on his forehead. He was standing and Mikasa realised just how short the man was. "I won't calm down until you take me seriously!"

The soldier rolled his eyes, and at that moment, spotted Mikasa. "Wall's sake, look, man, you have a visitor."

The Overseer glanced at her. "For fuck's sake," he muttered irritably. "What do you want?"

"I want to be reassigned to construction."

"Reassigned -reassigned… what did I tell you yesterday, brat?"

Mikasa, stoic as ever, said, "You said you'd think about it."

"Well, then, you have your answer. Now, get out."

Mikasa didn't budge. "I want to be reassigned."

The Overseer ran a hand over his face. "What're you, a fucking parrot? I told you, I'm thinking about it. Want me to crack open my skull and show you?"

He was being nasty on purpose. The MP soldier hissed, "Jacob!" But Mikasa simply said, her voice as polite as ever, "I could crack it open for you, if you like."

A moment of silence where both men stared at her. Then the Overseer let out a cackle. "You see, Phillip? Now this girl has balls. When are you going to grow a pair and give me what I want?"

"Fine. I'll see to it, uh, tomorrow, I guess." The soldier, Phillip, scowled. Mikasa, who had felt some hope at the Overseer's reaction, felt her hopes crash when he turned to her and said, "I thought I told you to leave?"

"But you said-"

"That you have balls?" The man looked bored. "Congrats. Now get out."

Mikasa curled her hands into fists. Calm down, she told herself. You need something from this man.

She turned around without speaking another word and walked out.

They didn't get to spar much that evening again, because neither of the boys could finish their work early. Armin ended up staying later than Eren, in fact, and only returned just in time to diffuse another burgeoning fight between her and Eren.

Not that Mikasa ever fought with him in the usual sense of the word. Eren was just about ready to hurl himself at her, fists ablaze and Mikasa was ready to beat patience into him again, when Armin arrived and insisted on sparring with Eren himself.

It was a clever move, Mikasa reflected, as they walked to dinner, because Eren would get to be the stronger one and feel better about himself. Armin, however, ended up with a limp.

"You went too hard on him," Mikasa chastised Eren as they picked up their trays.

"I'm fine," Armin said forcefully. "Eren didn't do that to me, anyway."

"Who did?"

She remembered observing blood on Eren's knuckles. Both he and Armin were trying very hard not to look at each other and focused on their plates. Neither of them answered her.

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "Let me guess. It was another pole?"

"No, a brick this time," Armin said, directing a defiant look at her.

"An ugly brick," Eren muttered.

She stared at them. The boys snickered.

She let her spoon drop. "Why won't you tell me?" She asked them plaintively.

"What difference does it make?"

To that, she had no answer, and they spoke no more of it.

But later that evening, Mikasa walked over to the boys' cottage and handed Armin a white bundle wordlessly. Armin gasped and struggled to hold on to the squirming cat.

"Mikasa? What-"

"I don't want her next to me. You keep Moon-moon from now on." She said, successfully keeping her voice smooth. Without any further explanation, she went back to her cottage, ignoring the pain throbbing in her heart.

When she went back to the Overseer's office the next day, it had three complete walls. The desk inside, however, was still the same, and so was the man's mood.

This time he was yelling at a man who seemed to be his subordinate.

"Those fuckers in the Reallocation Office… What the hell do they think they're doing?"

He was pacing in his office and stopped abruptly when Mikasa entered.

"Oh god," he sighed before she could utter a word, running a hand over his face. "I'm not done thinking yet. Leave."

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. "Does it always take you this long to think about things?" The subordinate gasped loudly.

"You better watch your fucking mouth or I'll have you reassigned to garbage collection -in the fucking Underground." But Mikasa was well aware this man only had bluster, no substance. She crossed her arms and waited.

"I'm busy," he snarled, gesturing at his ramshackle desk. "Try again later."

"When?" She asked him.

"I said later, kid. Go away."

She forced herself to calm down once more. It was unfortunate she kept catching this man in such a mood. There was no other time of the day she could approach him either, especially with sparring practice in the evening.

She gave him one final glare for good measure, and left.

"You haven't come to see Moon-moon, Mikasa," Armin told her that evening at dinner.

She avoided looking at him. "I've been busy."

"Of course. But I guess you see her here and there right?" He chuckled. "I barely get to see her myself."

"I haven't seen her in days." She admitted.

Armin looked surprised. "That doesn't bother you?"

She bit her lip to hide the lie. "No."

Armin looked unconvinced, but thankfully didn't press the subject.

After having to revisit old nightmares several nights in a row, nightmares she thought she had moved past, Mikasa understood how deeply ingrained the cat's presence had become in her life. She felt secretly ashamed, and vulnerable. That a speechless, unimportant little creature had such a strong hold on her emotions was laughable. Shameful, even.

So she had actively tried to avoid the cat whenever she did spot a gleam of white in the fields or near the ramshackle cottages. She would not let herself be so weak.

She would not.

Two days later, Armin turned up at dinner (he completely missed sparring) with a nasty bruise on his chin. As he sat down, he just said, "Don't."

Even Eren looked furious. "What the hell, Armin?"

"Eren, let it go."

"No." He shot up. "I'm going to teach those dimwits a lesson."

"Eren," Mikasa said wearily.

"What? I thought you wanted to know who did this?"

She did, she badly wanted to know who those sons of bitches were and make them pay. But Armin sat silently next to her, trembling with anger and shame. Armin was in pain.

"I thought it was a pole and some bricks?" She raised her eyebrow.

She had said the right thing; Eren looked at Armin, properly looked at him, and saw the request in his pleading blue eyes. He huffed and sat down.

"I'll be ready for them tomorrow," he vowed.

Neither Armin nor Mikasa had anything to say to that either.

She went to the Overseer's office with newfound determination the next day. She kept remembering Armin's bruise and Eren's bloody knuckles.

When she walked into the office, the short man, as usual, was in the middle of yelling. Again. The MP soldier, Philip, was back.

"You have got to be kidding me," the Overseer snarled. "That's your excuse? Really? You see this ancient fucking ruin of a desk? Do you?"

Philip the MP soldier looked bored. "It doesn't look too bad to me."

The Overseer noticed her at that moment. "Look, kid. You see anything on that lump of wood there?"

She glanced at the table, which was bare. All the papers, ledgers and other odds and ends were piled haphazardly on the floor.

She shook her head, once.

"There, see? The brat sees it too. I'm incapable of working. Get rid of the bloody thing and then I can work on this poor, persistent girl's request."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jacob," the soldier sighed. "This desk is perfectly fine. And the new desk has to be brought out from storage and there isn't enough labour to do that anytime soon."

"I ain't doing jack until I get my new fucking table."

Mikasa huffed. Honestly, these men were grown adults!

Both men noticed her exasperation. "Yeah, come back tomorrow," the Overseer shrugged. "As you can see, my problem is still unresolved."

It was the nonchalant shrug that did it. She had been going to him for nearly a week, pushing herself to work extra hard every single day so she could spare the time. Meanwhile, Armin and Eren were getting hurt.

"So you won't do anything about my problem until yours is gone?" She asked him, her voice deceptively calm.

"Bingo," the Overseer drawled. "See, I knew you were a bright kid."

"Fine."

She strode forward, scrutinized the desk for a split second, and decided on her move. Before either of the men could question her, she hefted the desk with one arm. It was heavy, but she could deal with it.

Without a sound, she yanked up the table, and, swinging around with sudden force, hurled it out of the office. The table flew several metres away and collapsed into kindling-worthy pieces.

Both men's jaws dropped.

"He needs a new table," she told the MP serenely.

Philip the soldier managed to stammer, "We n-need men to transport it…"

"I'll do it," she said flatly, and turned to the Overseer. "After that, will you reassign me?"

The man only nodded.

She looked at Philip. "Lead the way."

She skipped lunch to help deliver the table. She loaded it onto a cart near the warehouse, and unloaded it at the office. No one offered to help her, but she didn't care. She could do fine on her own.

The Overseer still didn't speak as she half-dragged, half-lifted the new table into his office. She let it drop with a bang that made him flinch.

"Reassign me," she told the Overseer.

He stared at her. "How old are you, kid?"

The question surprised her, but she answered him. "Twelve."

"Old enough to enlist."

She didn't reply.

He deliberated for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Fine. I'm reassigning you." He gathered up a ledger. "You're to be my new assistant."

Mikasa was stunned.

"What."

The man was suddenly voluble again. "You're a fucking godsend. I can get things done with you around."

"But I want construction!"

He looked at her. "Why?"

She blinked. "My family works there."

"Then it works out," he said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Most of my errands will be at the construction site. You'll have more free hours to go to them." He narrowed his eyes at her. "What more do you want?"

Mikasa searched for a better deal but came up with nothing. What more could she ask for, after all?

Resigned, she muttered, "Fine."

A/N: There are some interesting character traits I've been meaning to introduce for a while, which may seem a little OOC, but I think it goes with their character anyway. So, we have here a stubborn, angry Armin who hates being a burden, enough to create a scene in front of other people. We have Eren being a jealous nut who swears like a sailor (you'll see more of that). As for Mikasa, her personality traits are mostly serious, so I gave her one that made her more endearing to me - she makes shitty jokes and puns. Poor antisocial kid doesn't really understand jokes, you know? :)

I'm actually pretty pleased with how my OC Jacob turned out. I have a headcanon for his background, but doesn't necessarily do much for the story, so I haven't included it. You'll see more of him soon, so I hope you like him!

Again, thanks for the appreciation, and hope you guys liked the update!