Alterations

SUMMARY: Are you willing to abandon your humanity to save the thousands who will only curse your name? Can you truly become a monster for the sake of the ones you care about? Because once you've been chosen to carry the burden of your people, there is no other alternative. AU where, under very different circumstances, Levi saves Mikasa from the traffickers. Shifter!Mikasa.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You read that right. This is a Shifter!Mikasa fic. Although, it may be a little different from what you expect. I won't give anything other than that away for now.

This chapter and the next one will span Mikasa's childhood and everything after that will be spent with her as part of the military. A lot of these events are going to be canon-compliant, and since I don't really want to have to describe everything in detail (and I doubt any of you will want to read through all of that), I will probably just gloss over it more for the sake of context than anything else.

Another side note: this Levi is only about five years older than Mikasa, so he'll be around 14-15 now. Reya is 19-20.


The next two years of Mikasa's life were arguably the most trying. Her new home—a tiny house located in the poorest part of the Tontegora district just within Wall Maria—was nothing like the place she'd grown up in. Her new family wasn't wealthy by any means, she knew that. And yet, in spite of her poor living conditions, the leaky roof, short candles burned down to the last nub, ratty blankets that always left her shivering in the dead of night, Mikasa was happy.

"Can you teach me that?" She asked Reya one day, transfixed by the older girl's ability to use her knife to defend herself after a near-mugging in the darker areas of Tontegora. "I want to learn self-defence, too."

The girl chuckled, slipping the knife back into its sheath. "One day," she promised her. Mikasa held her to that promise and on the eve of her tenth birthday, was presented with a knife of her very own.

"Thank you, Levi." Mikasa had said to the boy shyly. Reya frowned at her brother, disapproval clear in her eyes. It had taken a substantial amount of persuasion on Levi's part for her to agree to teach Mikasa. But, she did. And Mikasa excelled at it. Whether it was from natural talent or pure determination, Reya couldn't discern. Mikasa was brilliant. She dodged every blow with ease, parried every strike with a powerful one of her own, and could instinctively predict where Reya or Levi would strike next.

"You're getting good at this," admitted Levi, handing Mikasa the jug of water after he'd taken a draught. Normally, he was adverse to the idea of sharing drinks with a girl—let alone from the same jug!—but his sister had ingrained in him how to be a gentleman.

Mikasa nodded solemnly. "I need to get as good as I can," she said without a hint of joviality. "You protected me last time. This time, I want to be the one to protect you."

Levi, who'd been wiping at his forehead with a rag, paused. "You want to protect me? Why?" It was an innocent question, which made it all the more difficult to answer.

Mikasa shifted from toe to toe uncomfortably. Turning her gaze to the alleyway across the street, she kept her eyes locked on the stragglers roaming the narrow path. "I want to protect everyone I love."

Fourteen year old Levi, who'd never so much as talked to a girl before, let alone hear her admit that she loved him, was a bit of a shock. Jumping nearly three feet in the air, he stumbled back, knocking his head against the side of their house. He slid to the ground, groaning.

"Are you okay?" She asked him, eyes wide and curious. "Do you want to take a break?"

Levi shook his head. A flash of black across the street caught his eye. "We should go back inside," he said. His voice, usually peppered with varying tones that were indicative of a boy his age, had suddenly become low and serious. "Mikasa," he said, addressing her by her first name, "we need to go back inside, now."

Mikasa tried to peek over Levi's shoulder, but he thrust out a hand to stop her. Taking her by the arm, he all but dragged her back inside the house. "What's going on?" She asked desperately. "Is something the matter?"

"Reya," Levi ignored Mikasa's inquiries. "They're here."

Reya peered out the window above the sink and nodded. "Take Mikasa with you to the bedroom and lock the door. Only come out when I knock three times, okay?"

"I can stay here with you," said Levi.

"I'll be fine on my own," insisted Reya. "If they see you, they'll get suspicious and wonder why I'm letting a kid participate in the dealings."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Levi."

"Fine. Come on." He took Mikasa's arm again, this time gentler, his fingers lightly curling around the limb.

"What's going on?" Mikasa asked for what felt like the thousandth time. "You still haven't told me what's going on."

"Not now," snapped Reya, but immediately looked apologetic afterwards. "Levi will tell you later. Just go into the room and don't come out until I say it's safe. Don't make any loud noises either."

Before Mikasa could properly protest, Levi led her to the shared bedroom, latching the door shut behind them. "It's okay if they see me," he told her quietly, "but they don't know about you yet and we don't want to take that chance." He peeked through a hole on the wood. Mikasa tried to elbow him out of the way so she could take a look as well, but Levi wouldn't budge. Finally, he pulled her down by the shoulder. "Don't tell Reya."

Mikasa nodded solemnly and put her eye to the hole. Outside, several burly men were locked in a heated conversation with Reya. They were frowning and Reya was shaking her head, repeatedly pointing to several glass bottles on the table in front of them. One of them heaped a cloth bag on the table with a clink that was oddly reminiscent of the times that Mikasa would accompany her parents to the market.

The transaction went on for several more minutes, Reya and the men arguing back and forth in low voices until they'd reached an agreement. The men took the bottles and Reya the clinking sack. After they finally left, she latched the door behind them and made for the bedroom.

"You can come out, now."

"What was that?" Mikasa asked, once assured that it was safe to talk.

Reya sighed and looked over at her brother, who shrugged. "Everyone," she started off, "has their own way of surviving. Ours just isn't a very safe one."

"Safe?"

"You saw those men," said Levi, his eyes dark. "If you got them mad enough, they'd kill you. They wouldn't even care that you're just a kid." He turned his head to the side, still fuming. "Next time, I'll deal with them. You get the supplies and I'll cover the deal."

Reya shook her head and handed Levi a list. "That's not happening. Here, take Mikasa with you down to the marketplace. Show her around. Make sure you teach her everything."

Levi scowled, but took the list from his sister and turned to Mikasa, whose eyes were bright and excited.

"Don't get too worked up over it," he grumbled. "It's dirty work."

And dirty work it was. Mikasa hadn't realized it at the time, but Reya and Levi were nothing more than merchants dealing in illegal goods, mainly drugs. They belonged to an organization far larger than them. Levi would go to the 'market', an underground system where he would hand off the money to another messenger, who in turn, would supply the boy with a week's worth of goods to be sold. It was, Levi articulated, a stupid system that was only in place to protect the higher-ups.

Initially, Mikasa had felt unsure about all of this, but quickly grew accustomed to the sleepless nights—spent in fear of an angry client—and mad dashes through alleyways to avoid the police, who seemed keen on sniffing them out. Levi laughed at this observation and told her that they were just as bad.

"They just want the money," he'd said. "If they catch us, we get locked up and they can take everything we have and blame it on people just like us. We never win."

A year passed. Mikasa grew nearly three inches during that time, but was still shorter than Levi, who took every opportunity to point it out. She also grew tougher and soon, her skills outstripped that of nearly every kid in the district, save for Levi whom everyone knew better than to challenge anyways.

She should've known, really. This life, these people were all too good to be true. Mikasa should've anticipated that there would have been some price to pay for murdering that man. She just never knew it would be so expensive.

Tontegora was a rough district. In every alleyway huddled a dangerous vagrant, fully capable of dismembering another human being. Even the police, few as they were, had a corrupt gleam in their eye and many were active participants in the drug trade.

"Stay close to me," Levi said. Mikasa inched closer to the boy, pinching the sleeve of his shirt. "Don't stare at anyone."

"I know," she said irritably, aware of the dangers that awaited them each time they stepped outdoors. "I'm not stupid." Even so, she felt the unwelcome eyes of several people on her, had felt their gaze since she first stepped into the area.

"You're not," he agreed, "but they are." He took Mikasa by the hand, weaving in between tightly pressed crowds of people.

"How much?"

Levi wheeled around, looking for the source of the voice. Beside him, Mikasa tightened her grip as her free hand strayed toward the knife kept at her waist.

"How much?" The voice repeated. A figure walked toward them and Levi sighed, relieved that it was only a man in a brown coat with shiny brass buttons. "For the girl." He gestured to Mikasa. "How much you sellin' for?"

"She's not for sale," said Levi, edging his body in front of Mikasa's.

"Greedy little bugger, ain't ya?" The man laughed heartily. "I don't blame ya, not in the slightest. Things like her," he jutted his chin toward Mikasa—who shuddered with revulsion, "are a rare thing. None too many of them around no more."

"She's a human being," said Levi. "She's not for sale."

"You're acting like you're better than me," the man said, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette using his shoe. "I don't like that." His voice lowered to a growl.

"I don't like you," countered Levi. "Old geezer."

The man laughed, clutching his large belly. "You're just as bad as me. No, you're worse," he spat. "Little boy acting like he's some bigshot thug running errands for mommy, ain't ya?"

Levi lunged, but Mikasa's iron grip held him back. "Don't," she said, her glare steely. "He's not worth it."

"Not like your boyfriend is either, missy. Why don't you come with me?"

As the man lumbered forward, Mikasa withdrew her knife, positioning it toward him. "I will hurt you if you come near me," she said.

The man stopped, holding his hands up. "Fine," he said, backing away. "I really didn't want to have to use force, but I guess I got no choice."

Another person appeared behind Levi and grabbed him from underneath his arms. Mikasa saw the man coming and without thinking twice, drove her knife into his side. He dropped Levi and the boy grabbed Mikasa by the arm. "Go! I'll catch up with you later," he said, eyes frantic as he withdrew his own weapon.

Mikasa shook her head resolutely. "No way. We're family, now. Family sticks together."

Levi watched more people step from the shadows, obviously agents of this slave trader. "I was sort of hoping you'd say that."

When they returned to the house, Mikasa found herself wincing as she walked, the squelching noise in her shoes unpleasant to the touch. Beside her, Levi wiped his face with his sleeve, every part of him drenched in red, save for his spotless face.

"Levi, Mikasa!" Reya swooped down on the two, wet cloths in her hands. Bending to Mikasa's level, she gently wiped the blood from her face. "What happened?" She asked.

"Someone tried to take Mikasa," said Levi, taking the other rag from Reya's hands. "We stopped them."

"By killing them…?" Reya's voice trailed off as she looked at her brother with fearful eyes. "Levi."

"We had no other choice," he said, deadpan. "If I didn't do anything, she would have been taken away. Reya, they were traffickers. It was a clean cut. We got all of them."

"Levi." She grabbed him by his shoulders, her own shaking. "A lot of those traffickers are very well-known. They have connections. Please don't tell me you killed all of them."

Slowly, Levi nodded.

Reya hunched her shoulders, head drooped down. "They're going to find us," she whispered fearfully.

"I'll fight them off," said Mikasa, who'd been silent the whole time. "I'll make sure we're safe. Don't worry, Reya."

"Mikasa, you can't fight forever. You have to know when to give up."

Mikasa disagreed with her, but chose not to voice it.

"We'll be fine, Reya," consoled Levi. "They won't find us and we can pretend it never happened, even if they do."

Levi had never been so wrong in his life. Shortly after, members of the Garrison appeared and took Levi into custody. They would have taken Mikasa too, had Levi not put up a fight and insisted that it was solely his doing.

The trial was a disaster. Mikasa suspected that the witnesses had been either paid for, or were also part of the trafficking organization, their leering grins making her insides roil. Eventually, they settled on a verdict. Either Levi was to be put in prison, or serve as part of the Scouting Legion, a faction of the military with the highest fatality rate. Levi, never one to be cooped up, chose the latter.

Reya cried for a week after that.

In the months following, Mikasa felt a tremendous shift in her family. Without Levi, things were different. She missed him immensely, to the point where she had difficulty getting up in the mornings.

Levi's gone, she'd often think to herself in the cavernous silence that accompanied each meal with Reya, whose dead eyes were all too familiar to Mikasa. Levi's gone and I'm never going to see him again.

"Don't go back," Reya told her one day. "To that marketplace." She had gotten thinner and thinner with each passing day, the shadows under her eyes a stark contrast to her bone-white skin. "They might recognize you."

"How are we going to survive?" Asked Mikasa. "You've stopped working and now I can't even go out?"

"They never forgive," said Reya. "And they never forget."

And as much as Mikasa hated them, she thought those were good words to live by.

By this point, there was no way that Mikasa's life could get any worse. And yet, it did.


Mikasa rounded the corner, her heart beating in her ears and her breaths rapid. The door was open; its latch lay in pieces on the ground. She felt bile crawling up her throat and nervous anticipation claw at her insides. She knew it was a bad idea to go back to the marketplace. How many times had Reya reminded her of the corruption that ran rampant in the district? How many times had she herself witnessed people being murdered in the streets without anyone running to their aid?

"No," she whispered to herself. Pushing forward, ignoring her screaming muscles that told her to stop and rest, she ran into the house and prepared herself for the worse.

Inside, it looked as if a struggle had taken place. Dishes were knocked over, porcelain shards crunched underfoot as she gingerly walked through the kitchen. Then, she heard it. Lying, half concealed by the table, was a foot. As she walked around the length of the piece of furniture, a body came into view. It was a man with nondescript features. Dark hair and dark eyes, just like most of the people Mikasa encountered on a day to day basis. The only difference was that this man was dead, sporting a deep gash on the side of his neck. The blood had begun to pool on the floor, seeping into crevices and gathering in the dips of the wood.

Mikasa wrinkled her nose, but examined the body for a weapon anyways, unsure whether or not the person who'd committed the deed was still in the house. As she turned the body over with her foot, she caught a glimpse of the man's jacket. Emblazed on the back was a sigil that she was very familiar with: a green unicorn sporting a flowing white mane. He was from the Military Police.

"Reya?" Mikasa whispered. She opened the bedroom door with the tip of her foot and was immediately horrified by what she saw. Reya lay crumpled on the ground by the bed, surrounded by shards of broken glass. "Reya!" Mikasa bent down, ghosting her hands over the body, completely unsure of what to do.

Reya rolled over, but only just slightly. Her eyes were half-closed and her breathing was shallow. "Mi…kas…?"

"Don't talk," Mikasa cradled her head on her lap. "I'll find you some help. You'll be fine." This scene—someone she cared about deeply harbouring fatal wounds—felt eerily familiar to her. "It's going to be okay."

"No," said Reya, her voice sharp despite the bloody mess that was the front of her chest. Mikasa stared down at the wounds, but Reya shook her head. "I'm beyond help, now." Her voice had turned back to a whisper.

"I'll get help," insisted Mikasa.

Reya softly took the hand that Mikasa had put on her shoulder and squeezed it weakly. "They're going to come back," she breathed.

"They?" But, Mikasa knew who she was talking about. Even though it was months ago, grudges ran deep. It wasn't karma at work here, but the desire for equivalency. It was a 'you kill one of my men; I kill one of yours' type of thing.

Reya nodded, clearly slipping between coherency and confusion. "You have to go. Don't stay here."

"I can't leave you." Mikasa squared her shoulders. This wouldn't be like last time, she promised. Last time, she'd listened and ran and lost everything. She refused to make that mistake again. She was a little older, a little more scarred, and a little wiser now.

"You have to, Mikasa." Reya said angrily. "They will come back and they will kill you."

"They won't. I'm stronger than them."

"I know you are," said Reya. "But even if you win this battle, what about the next one? And the one after that? Are you going to be fighting all your life?"

"If it's to protect the ones I love, then yes." At the time, Mikasa hardly registered the finality of such a statement. But, what's been said has been said and no amount of pouring over words unspoken or uttered would alter the path her life beginning to be set on.

"Don't fight this," said Reya. "Stay alive. Protect Levi, please."

"Levi…" Mikasa looked lost, remembering the boy who'd taught her nearly everything she knew about fighting.

Reya reached down and yanked something that hung around her neck. She handed it to Mikasa, who didn't even bother admire the fine gold chain or locket that hung off the end. "Take this to the Yeagers in Shiganshina. You remember them, don't you?"

Mikasa nodded, vaguely recalling an afternoon spent with one of Reya's clients and his son. The boy had vivid green eyes, she remembered. And he was a bit of an idiot, if she was to be entirely truthful. "I do."

"Give that to Grisha. He'll know what it means." Reya's breaths grew laboured, the wound taking its toll. "You'll live with them. Stay safe. Do not avenge me."

"Please don't," begged Mikasa, even though she knew Reya would have her way.

"Before you go, burn down the house. There must be nothing left of us. They must think we all died. That is the only way you can live normally." Reya looked at Mikasa with incredibly clear eyes. "You must do this, Mikasa. Get rid of your fears. This is not just for you."

Mikasa nodded wordlessly, feeling a creeping numbness in her bones.

Reya's eye softened. "Good. Now, go. Set fire to this place. I've always wanted to go out with a bang."

With one last look, Mikasa lit a lamp on the furthest end of the kitchen table and knocked it over onto the curtains. The glass shattered, fire creeping alongside the edge of the cloth and wood. Soon, the room was engulfed in flames and Mikasa was forced to leave, her face buried in her sleeve.

She didn't turn back, preferring to keep the memories of that house and its inhabitants untouched by flames.


It took Mikasa a while, navigating from Tontegora to Shiganshina, but she eventually made her way in. Asking around, people were more than willing to point her in the direction of the Yeagers', swayed by her bright, curious eyes.

As she approached the house, she felt the grooves of the locket's chain dig into her hand. She used her free hand to knock, hoping that this was the right place. Eren answered the door and Mikasa could hear the voice of his mother, chastising him for not bothering to ask who it was.

"Hi," he said, eyeing Mikasa. "I know you, but I don't remember your name."

"I'm Mikasa. Is your dad around?"

Grisha Yeager, who'd heard his name being called from the kitchen table, appeared in the doorway. "Can I help you?"

Wordlessly, she handed him the locket. Grisha took it, brows furrowed. He opened the necklace and nodded a few times, humming to himself. Finally, he let Mikasa in. "Welcome, Mikasa Ackerman. I suppose you'll be staying with us, then."

"Staying with us?" Eren asked.

Grisha nodded. "Treat her as you would a sibling."

Eren looked from his father to Mikasa. "Are you going to be part of my family or something?"

At those words, at the very mention of family, Mikasa broke down. The stress—from seeing Levi taken away from her, witnessing Reya's final moments, watching her home go up in flames—had finally caught up with her. She felt empty and cold and more than anything, she wanted her mother.

Something warm wrapped around her neck. Months of training caused her to instinctively flinch, but the perpetrator was only Eren, who had begun swathing Mikasa in a large red scarf. "Are you cold?" He asked. "You were shivering."

Mikasa watched him without saying a word.

"You don't have to worry now," he continued. "Are you feeling better?" He threw the last bit of the woollen scarf around her shoulder.

"I am," she said, voice muffled by the cloth. "I feel a lot warmer."


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