To give some context, this story is not set in Attack on Titan's fantasy world but is instead a work set in modern Japan using the characters from the series. I hope you enjoy it.
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In the beginning, she was greatness personified—the best of the best, the Ackerman bloodline's finest offspring. President of the student council in her first year, set with the beauty of a fledgeling goddess and a mind so sharp some even whispered she would grow to surpass both her father and grandfather, who in both their times had become chairmen to the esteemed Ackerman Law Firm. A firm that throughout history had served some of the highest-ranking officials in the world; presidents, senators, congressmen, even royalty. Any judge knew if an Ackerman was protecting a client in the courtroom, the case was as good as over. Mikasa had grown up in the shadow of this immense reputation - her most beloved legacy.
But it was no longer the beginning. Ten years had passed since that ferocious start to life, a start that begged for a middle and end of equal if not greater excellence.
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Day 2659.
Mikasa stared at the number she had just produced on the page in front of her. She regarded it with a blank expression until her last tear fell onto its rough page. The moisture created a small black puddle as it merged with the fresh ink, lasting only a fleeting moment before it was sucked away into the page leaving behind an ugly stain.
Mikasa, now a beautiful dark-haired woman in her mid-20's, finally let the pangs of rage overtake her body. She began to shudder, taking deep breath after deep breath as she sat taking in the reality of the number.
It had been seven years. Seven years in a marriage designed to screw her from the outset. A gift from her late grandfather, who had pushed her to sign the prenuptial agreement with the convenient investor who promised to save their falling legacy.
'Centuries,' she whispered to herself, 'centuries on top of them all—the highest law firm in the country. And you, grandfather, you were the one who sold us out. You were the one who made a muck of the finances. You were the one who made me pay for your mistake.' She clutched her black hair, the words balling in her throat with bitterness.
'You killed me, grandfather. You killed the Ackerman name.'
Mikasa started as she heard the dead jingle of keys in the lock of the front door. They denoted the arrival of her significant other.
She flicked her gaze down to her slim watch. The sleek hands read 7 pm. She slumped off the bed and stepped up to the dressing table in the far corner of the room. The oval mirror set into the dark wood spat back her pale, puffy-eyed likeness. She glanced back at her bed in minor shock. A deep depression of where she had been lying existed on the satin sheets. Just how long had she been up here?
Quickly doing her best to restore her usual flawless appearance, she yanked a towel from the dresser drawer and used it to dry the tears on her face, applying concealer soon after to mask the bags beneath her eyes. With a few more rapid touch-ups, she pulled the last vestiges of her appearance together and made her way downstairs to greet her husband.
As she padded softly down the marble staircase of her grand home, her eyes skimmed the framed photograph of her father and grandfather. They were dressed in fine, double-breasted suits and wore stern expressions. The Ackerman Law Firm's Tokyo branch loomed in the background of the image.
The photograph was taken a few days before her father left the country to see what the law world looked like beyond the walls of Japan. A decision taken after the firm began to severely haemorrhage money under her grandfather's recent rise to the top. It was suggested in a board meeting, chaired by none other than her grandfather, that the firm should reinstate the international business scheme that had first taken it to such incredible heights of fame in the past. Mikasa scoffed. There was never enough money to fuel such an ambitious venture.
Without her father in the picture, Mikasa was left alone with only her studies and the council to take her mind off things. She stopped on the last step, closing her eyes as she allowed the dark thoughts of the past hours to weigh down on her again.
Mikasa watched her life pass behind her closed lids. Watched as she worked tirelessly on her studies, watched as her idolisation of the Ackerman name grew and grew, watched as she genuinely believed she would be the one to restore the firm to its original greatness, only to have her fool of a grandfather arrange for her to marry some white-collared slug with only his own wealth in mind.
Even after her grandfather eventually passed away, finally leaving her with the company which despite all she still firmly loved, still more disaster followed. What should have been the happy era of her life in which all she had worked for would finally come to fruition was instead eaten away in an interval spent jousting over ownership of the firm. Her rival was none other than her own husband.
Two years was all it took. He had had all the paperwork ready for months before the marriage even took place. All he had needed was her Ackerman name, and he claimed it on the day of their wedding.
She was pushed out with ease, her husband finishing up with a tidy sum in return for selling out her family business to a string of investors in Beijing. All those years of history - years of service to the elites of society, and it had all ended on that day. Now with her birthright taken from her, Mikasa was nothing. The Ackerman name was as reputable as the pile of dog waste her neighbour's labrador was currently shitting on her front porch.
Mikasa grimaced as a brief flash of brown hair manifested itself in her mind. Or had it been a flicker of green eyes? She opened her own eyes, the memory of a smile suddenly tugging at her cold lips.
Perhaps she wasn't left with only the firm and her studies to take her mind off things back in those days.
"Mikasa?"
The rough voice of Kitz Woermann slit through her one pleasant drop of reminiscence like a hot needle. It brought her roughly back into reality. Mechanically, she slipped off the last step of the staircase and made her way across the spacious main hall. She stopped at the threshold of the living room where Kitz sat slumped in his favourite armchair.
She watched with a vapid expression as he loosened his silk tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He straightened up briefly as he reached his left hand into the inner pocket of the suit jacket draped over the armrest. He rummaged for two seconds, grunted and then withdrew two items. The first was a beautiful silver lighter, its marless casing etched with the kanji for fire. The second was a cigar. To Mikasa, who still stood in the doorway, the length of tobacco seemed to reek even before he clipped and lit it a few seconds later. She thought it strange how the two objects were so opposite in appearance, yet both were used for the same stink-filled purpose.
She hated the cigars that Kitz smoked. Yet another change that had occurred with the passing of her grandfather. No one would dare to smoke in the house whilst he was alive - especially not Kitz. The man had jumped through hoops for him when he was alive. She could remember seeing them sitting together in that very room when she returned from school in her youth, Kitz smiling and lapping up every piece of drivel her grandfather uttered, constantly nodding, never daring to a question a word of his logic. And now? Now he couldn't give a damn. The place was his personal ashtray. Her home. And she let him do it. Why?
Because she was nothing now. She couldn't even free herself from this torment with the pleasure of becoming a mother. The first years of trying revealed her to be infertile: ovarian dysfunction. She would never rear children. No spark of happiness would ever enter that cold home. This would be her life, her reality, for the rest of her days. And she would spend them with a man who had rid her of one of the only two things that had ever meant anything to her.
The second she had lost a long time ago. But that had hurt more. Far more. After all, the name Eren Jaeger meant more to her than her family name ever could.
'Welcome home,' Mikasa said finally, forcing a hint of false warmth from somewhere within.
Kitz barely gave her a nod in response as he puffed at his cigar like a balding steam engine. A good portion of the room had already been infected with his dirty grey smoke. He looked at the clock above Mikasa's head which now read quarter past seven, and for the first time since his return into the home they shared, he turned to face her. His face was framed not by affection, but expectancy.
Mikasa gave her own curt nod of understanding. She shuffled out of the room to go and prepare the table for that night's sashimi. A cold affectionless marriage. This was the blueprint of her last 2659 days.
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Hi there. I'm was looking forward to telling this story so much I just couldn't help but start today. To give some background, my name is R.G. Honda and I'm an author who likes to tell dark thriller stories. I've recently published an Amazon Ebook called Kimura: Memoirs of a Murderess about a woman who braves Japan's criminal underworld in order to rescue her kidnapped sister. That novel originally started as a fanfiction, and from first draft to finished product their were so many outtakes I could have written another novel with them. I thought what better opportunity to write another fanfiction!? So here you go :)