Hey, fandom!
My late best friend wrote a story named "My Wrath Ain't Over" a crossover like this one, but after his passing, I penned Attack on Wrath with tweaks to honor him. Quite frankly, i had crafted a Asura's Wrath crossover story before "Hunter X Asura" with Hunter X Hunter, and now my new story "Attack on Wrath" with Attack on Titan. I've mixed Asura's epic fury with killer anime worlds twice because Asura's Wrath is so underrated! and my friend was the reason for loving this game, it's raw power and soul deserve way more hype. Dive in!
Note: I don't own Asura's Wrath or Attack on Titan.
Episode 1
In 844, within the sprawling farmlands of Wall Maria, nine-year-old Mikasa Ackerman lived a quiet, peaceful life with her parents.
Her mother, a gentlewoman of Asian descent, carried an air of quiet strength. Her dark eyes often glimmer with warmth as she tended to their modest home.
Her father, a broad-shouldered man of the Ackerman clan, was a kind and steady presence. His calloused hands were proof of years spent working the land.
Together, they raised Mikasa in a world sheltered by towering walls, far from the chaos that lurked beyond.
Mikasa had grown up helping her parents with small tasks, such as feeding the chickens, fetching water from the well, or gathering firewood from the edge of the nearby forest.
Despite her young age, she carried herself with a quiet determination, her long black hair often swaying loosely as she worked. Life was simple, predictable, and safe, or so it seemed.
One crisp morning, as the sun peeked over the horizon and painted the fields in hues of gold, Mikasa sat at the wooden table in their cozy kitchen.
The scent of fresh bread wafted through the air as her mother kneaded dough by the hearth. Piqued by a fleeting thought, Mikasa tilted her head and asked an innocent question.
"Mother, where babies come from?"
Her mother froze mid-motion, flour-dusted hands hovering over the dough. A soft, nervous laugh escaped her lips as her cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, Mikasa," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "that's… well, that's quite a question." She cast a pleading glance toward her husband, who was sipping tea at the table. "Dear, why don't you explain it to her?"
Mr. Ackerman nearly choked on his tea, his eyes widening as he set the cup down with a clatter. "Me?" he sputtered, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice carried a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "Uh… maybe we should wait for Dr. Yeager's next visit. He's better with these things… knows all about bodies and such." He gave Mikasa a sheepish grin, hoping to dodge the topic altogether.
Mikasa blinked, her innocent gray eyes darting between her parents. She didn't press further, though her curiosity lingered like a quiet ember. Instead, the family settled into breakfast: warm bread smeared with butter and a modest serving of eggs from their hens. The meal was simple, but they shared in the comfort of their small home.
As they ate, Mikasa's gaze drifted toward the window, where the dense forest beyond their farmland loomed like a shadowed wall of green. She set her fork down and turned to her parents. "Can I explore the forest today?" she asked, her voice excitedly bright.
Her mother's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of worry. "No, Mikasa," she said quickly, her tone laced with unease. "It's not safe to wander off like that. You know how I feel about the forest."
Mikasa's shoulders slumped slightly, but before she could protest, her father spoke up. "Now, now," Mr. Ackerman said gently, resting a hand on his wife's arm. He turned to Mikasa with a reassuring smile. "You can go, but not too far. Stay where you can still see the house, and be back before sunset. Promise?"
Mikasa's face lit up, a rare spark of joy breaking through her usual calm demeanor. "I promise!" she said, nodding eagerly. She trusted her father completely; he was her anchor, a man who never raised his voice or turned her away. Around him, she felt free to ask anything, no matter how strange or silly her questions might seem.
Her mother sighed, still uneasy, but didn't argue further. "Just… be careful," she added softly, her hands twisting the edge of her apron.
Mikasa finished her breakfast quickly, barely containing her excitement as she slipped on her shoes and dashed outside. The world beyond their doorstep was all she knew, a patchwork of fields and trees encircled by the towering Walls that kept the Titans at bay.
She had heard stories of those monstrous beings whispered by travelers or muttered by her parents in hushed tones.
Titans? A giant, mindless creature that has nearly driven humanity to extinction. But to Mikasa, they were distant nightmares, unreal and far removed from her innocent life. The Walls were her shield, her parents her comfort, and the forest her playground.
As she stepped into the cool morning air, the wind tugging at her hair, Mikasa had no inkling of earthly and otherworldly forces that would soon shatter her peaceful existence forever.
Mikasa stepped into the forest, her shoes crunching against a carpet of fallen leaves and twigs.
The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns across the ground as she wandered more profoundly, her gray eyes wide with wonder.
The world beyond her family's farm felt alive in a way she hadn't expected, humming with the chirps of birds and the rustle of unseen creatures darting through the underbrush.
She paused to watch a line of ants marching across a rotting log, their tiny bodies glinting like polished beads in the light.
Nearby, a dragonfly hovered over a puddle, its wings a blur of iridescent green. Mikasa crouched low, her fingers brushing the dirt as she marveled at the small, bustling life around her.
A soft laugh escaped her lips when a rabbit darted out from a bush, its white tail bobbing before it vanished into the ferns.
Moments later, she froze in awe as a deer stepped into view… its slender legs graceful, its antlers catching the sun like a crown. It regarded her with dark, liquid eyes before bounding away, leaving her breathless and smiling.
"For Mother," she murmured, kneeling to pluck a cluster of wildflowers, delicate white petals with golden hearts, their fragrance sweet and faint.
She tucked them into the crook of her arm, imagining the smile they'd bring to her mother's face. The thought warmed her as she continued her trek, the forest unfolding around her like a secret waiting to be discovered.
Mikasa wandered deeper, her earlier promise to stay close to home fading beneath the thrill of exploration. The trees grew taller here, their trunks thicker, their branches weaving a ceiling that dimmed the sunlight to a soft, greenish glow.
She hummed faintly, a tune her mother often sang while working when something caught her eye: a massive tree, its gnarled roots sprawling like the fingers of an ancient giant. It stood apart from the others, its bark weathered and dark, exuding an almost palpable presence.
Beneath the tree, half hidden by a tangle of roots, was an opening of a small cave, its mouth barely wide enough for a child like her to slip through.
Shadows pooled within, thick and uninviting, yet something about it tugged at her curiosity. Mikasa edged closer, her flowers clutched tightly in one hand.
The air near the entrance felt cooler and heavier, as if it carried whispers she couldn't hear. She hesitated, her heart thumping against her ribs. "It's just a cave," she told herself, her voice tiny in the vastness of the forest. "Nothing to be afraid of."
Still, a flicker of doubt held her back. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see her father's reassuring figure in the distance, but the trees swallowed the farmhouse. The forest was silent now, the birdsong gone, the rustling stilled. It was just her and the cave, its dark maw beckoning like a question she couldn't ignore.
Mikasa swallowed hard, her small hand tightening into a fist. Then, with a determined breath, she ducked low and stepped inside.
Mikasa edged forward, her small frame slipping through the cave's narrow entrance. The darkness swallowed her almost instantly, and she blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to adjust.
Her fingers brushed against the damp, jagged walls as she took tentative steps, her breath shallow and quick. Then, to her surprise, the ground beneath her feet shifted, smooth stone replaced the uneven earth, and she realized she was descending a set of crude, winding stairs. They stretched downward into a tunnel carved deep into the world, their edges worn as if untouched by time.
Fear prickled at her neck, urging her to turn back. The air grew colder with every step, seeping through her thin clothes and raising goosebumps. "I shouldn't be here," she whispered, her voice trembling in the stillness. Yet something a pull she couldn't name drove her onward, her curiosity outweighing the dread tightening in her chest.
The tunnel opened abruptly into a vast chamber, and Mikasa froze, her breath catching in her throat. The room was immense, its ceiling arching high above her like the belly of some great beast.
Faint beams of sunlight pierced through cracks in the stone overhead, their golden shafts cutting through the gloom to illuminate the space in a soft, eerie glow. Dust motes danced in the light, swirling lazily as if undisturbed for centuries.
But it wasn't the room size that rooted Mikasa to the spot; it was what lay at its center.
A colossal boulder dominated the chamber, its surface rough and weathered, streaked with veins of moss and lichen. A human figure was embedded within it as if fused with the stone. No… not just human. Something more.
Mikasa's eyes widened, her flowers slipping from her grasp to scatter across the floor. The figure was massive, towering even in its petrified state, its muscular form locked in a pose of raw, unyielding fury.
His arms were crossed over his chest, fists clenched so tightly that the stone around them seemed to strain against his power. Though carved in rock, his face bore an expression of searing anger; brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a snarl that radiated defiance.
Strange markings etched his features, jagged lines that glowed faintly red against the gray stone. They trailed down his neck and across his broad shoulders. They pulsed like embers, alive despite his imprisonment.
Mikasa took a shaky step closer, her fear warring with a strange, inexplicable awe. She had never seen anything like this. Nothing in her quiet life of farmland and forests could have prepared her for it.
"Who… are you?"
Her voice was barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might wake him. The air around the boulder felt charged, heavy with a presence pressed against her senses, ancient and furious.
She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers hovering just above the stone. The markings flared brighter for a fleeting moment, and Mikasa yanked her hand back, her heart pounding. The figure didn't move or stir, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he was aware, trapped, but not defeated… petrified yet somehow alive.
For a long moment, she stood there, staring up at the stone-bound giant. The world she knew, the Walls, the Titans, and her simple life felt distant and insignificant compared to the mystery before her.
Whatever this was, whoever he was, Mikasa sensed she had stumbled into something far more significant than herself.
But her curiosity burned brighter than her fear, a wildfire she couldn't quench. She stared up at the petrified figure, his snarling face and glowing markings etching themselves into her mind.
Who was he? What fury had forged him into this prison of stone? Her small hand trembled as she reached out again, bravery surging through her like a tide.
Her fingertips brushed the cold, rough surface of the boulder, tracing the edge where the stone met the figure's clenched fist. A pang of sorrow twisted in her chest, pity for this stranger, trapped in an endless rage he couldn't unleash.
The markings flared beneath her touch, a brief crimson light pulse sending a shiver up her spine. She pulled back, her breath hitching, but the figure remained still. Silent.
"What happened to you?" she whispered, her voice soft and aching. She wanted to know, needed to know, what could bind someone so alive with anger into this lifeless shell.
A low, guttural growl rumbled through the chamber, shattering her thoughts. Mikasa's heart lurched, and she spun around, her eyes wide with terror.
A massive black wolf lurks in the shadows near the tunnel's mouth. Its dark and wild fur bristled like a storm cloud, and its amber eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.
The alpha's lips curled back, revealing jagged fangs that glinted in the faint sunlight spilling through the cracks above. It was no ordinary beast; its size alone marked it as something primal, a forest king who had claimed this cave as its den.
Mikasa stumbled back, her foot catching on a root as she pressed against the boulder. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and stinging, spilling down her cheeks as the wolf took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Its growl deepened, vibrating through the stone beneath her, and she could feel its intent hunger, dominance, death. "No," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no…"
Her mind raced, a chaotic blur of regret and panic. She shouldn't have come here. She'd been stupid and reckless to wander so far, to ignore her mother's warnings and her father's gentle limits.
The flowers she'd picked for her mother lay crushed beneath her feet, their petals smeared into the dirt. She was going to die here, alone in this cold, dark place, torn apart by a beast she couldn't fight.
Her small hands clenched into fists, but what could she do? She was just a girl, not a soldier, not a hunter like her father.
The wolf crouched, its muscles coiling like a spring, ready to lunge. Mikasa squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming freely now. Her body trembled as she braced for the end.
She screamed through the cavern, raw and desperate, as she fell backward onto the cold, unyielding ground.
Her hands scrabbled against the dirt, tears blurring her vision as the black wolf loomed closer, its amber eyes locked on her with lethal intent.
She cried out, "Help! Someone… please!" Her voice cracked, echoing off the stone walls, but no one could hear or save her. The wolf's muscles tensed, its jaws parting as it prepared to lunge.
Then, a tremor shook the earth beneath her. Mikasa gasped, her sobs faltering as a strange, pulsating red light erupted from the boulder behind her.
The air thickened with an electric hum, and she twisted her head to see the petrified figure consumed by a crimson aura.
The markings on his stone prison blazed like molten fire, spreading across the rock in jagged veins. His eyes, blank and lifeless moments ago, suddenly flared with a blinding white glow, piercing the darkness like twin stars.
"AGHAGHAGHAGHAGHAGH!"
A savage roar through the air with untamed fury. A sound so primal and furious it seemed to shake the very foundation of the cave. With a thunderous crack, the boulder exploded outward, shards of stone flying in all directions as the figure broke free.
The force of his awakening hurled Mikasa forward, and she threw her arms up to shield herself from the debris. The wolf yelped, its bravado shattered, and bolted toward the tunnel, its tail tucked as it fled in terror from the unleashed fury.
Dust and pebbles rained around her, the chamber trembling in the aftermath. Mikasa coughed, her chest heaving as she lowered her arms and dared to look up. Her breath caught, her jaw dropping as she beheld the figure now standing where the boulder once was.
He was huge, taller than any man she'd ever seen, taller than her father! His frame was built like a fortress of muscle and sinew. He wore only tattered pants, his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and strange, metallic golden markings that shimmered across his chest, arms, and hands.
The markings pulsed faintly, as if alive, tracing the contours of his tanned skin. His arms gleamed like forged steel, rippling with power, and his white hair jutted upward in wild, spiky tufts stark against the dim light. His eyes glowed an unnatural white, devoid of pupils, radiating an intensity that made her shrink back instinctively.
Also, his pants are weird! They are torn black trousers with a red flame pattern and a torn golden waist sash tied by a red belt. He has golden ceremonial greaves, his right trouser leg tucked in, and his left leg draped over, blending ruggedness with ornate flair.
Mikasa stared, her mouth hanging open, her mind reeling. Was he human? The question flickered through her thoughts, but no answer came. He didn't move like a man; he stood like a force of nature, raw and untamed, his presence filling the cavern with an almost suffocating weight.
The man's head jerked slightly as if waking from a dream. He raised a massive hand to clutch his temple, his fingers digging into his scalp as a low growl rumbled from his throat.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, laced with confusion and pain. His glowing eyes darted around the chamber, taking in the cracked walls, the scattered stone, and the trembling girl at his feet, searching for something he couldn't grasp.
He staggered forward a step, his other hand flexing as if testing its strength, and grimaced. "What… is this place?"
Mikasa couldn't speak, couldn't move. Her tears had dried, replaced by a mix of fear and fascination. The man's roar and presence were unlike anything she'd ever known, yet beneath them, she sensed something lost, something broken.
Whoever he was, whatever he was, he had saved her. And now, she was face-to-face with a mystery that dwarfed the walls she'd always known.
Mikasa's legs trembled as she pushed herself up from the ground, her small hands brushing at the dust and grime clinging to her dress. The fabric was streaked with dirt, and there was a faint tear at the hem from her fall, but she barely noticed.
Her heart still pounded in her chest, the echo of the man's roar lingering in her ears. Initially, she kept her eyes low, focusing on the scattered pebbles and crushed flowers beneath her feet as if grounding herself in something familiar amid the chaos.
A vast and unyielding shadow loomed over her, and she froze. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her gaze. The man stood there, towering like a mountain, his glowing white eyes fixed on her. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with unspoken questions.
His brow furrowed, the jagged golden markings on his face shifting as his expression changed. Stunned disbelief flickered across his features, softening the rage that had defined him moments before.
A young girl here, in this forsaken place? His head tilted slightly as if trying to make sense of her presence. The glow in his eyes dimmed just a fraction, revealing a hint of something human beneath the fury, confusion, perhaps, or curiosity.
Mikasa swallowed hard, her hands clutching the edges of her dress. Up close, he was even more imposing, his broad chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his metallic arms glinting faintly in the fractured sunlight. Yet he didn't move toward her, didn't speak. He just stared as though she were as much a mystery to him as he was to her.
"You…" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, rough and uncertain. He paused, his hand still pressed to his temple, fingers flexing as if wrestling with a headache or a memory he couldn't grasp. "What are you doing here, child?"
Mikasa flinched at the sound, her breath catching. His tone wasn't threatening, not precisely, but it carried a weight that made her feel small, fragile. She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came, only a shaky exhale. Who was he to ask? She didn't know where "here" was anymore, not after the boulder, the wolf, and the impossible power she'd just witnessed.
The man lowered his hand, his glowing eyes narrowing as he studied her. "This is no place for you," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice tinged with concern or annoyance.
He glanced around the cavern again, his massive frame tensing as if expecting another threat to emerge from the shadows.
Mikasa took a small step back, her mind racing. She didn't know what to say, didn't know if she should run or stay. But one thing was clear: this man, this… being, had saved her life. And now, for better or worse, their paths had crossed in a way she couldn't yet comprehend.
"What's your name, child?" he asked, his voice a low growl, rough around the edges but not unkind. It rumbled through the cavern, stirring the fallen silence after his awakening.
Mikasa's breath hitched. She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hem of her dirt-streaked dress.
Her name felt small and insignificant in the presence of this giant, who had shattered stone with a single roar.
She glanced up at him, then quickly away, her gray eyes darting to the cracked walls as if searching for an escape or an answer.
The weight of his gaze pressed on her, patient but unrelenting, and she realized he wouldn't let the question fade.
"M-M-ika-sa," she finally stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She forced herself to meet his eyes again, though her heart thudded wildly in her chest. "My name is Mikasa."
The man tilted his head, the jagged markings on his face catching the faint light as he processed her words.
"Mikasa," he repeated, testing the sound on his tongue. His tone was gruff, almost dismissive, yet there was a faint curiosity in it like a man grasping at fragments of a world he didn't fully understand.
He crossed his massive arms, the metallic sheen of his skin glinting, and grunted softly. "Strange name."
Mikasa bristled slightly, a tiny spark of defiance flaring in her despite her fear. It wasn't strange; it was hers, given by her parents, who were the only people who mattered.
But she bit her lip, holding back the retort. This wasn't the time to argue with a man who looked like he could crush her with a single hand.
He didn't seem to notice her reaction. His glowing eyes drifted past her, scanning the cavern again as if her name had stirred some distant thought he couldn't quite seize.
"Mikasa," he muttered again, quieter this time, almost to himself. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he refocused on her. "Why are you here, Mikasa? Alone?"
The question hung in the air, heavier than before. Mikasa shifted on her feet, unsure how to answer or if she knew the answer herself anymore.
Mikasa shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands twisting the edge of her dress as she struggled to find her voice.
The man's glowing eyes pinned her in place, expectant and unyielding, and she felt the words tangle in her throat. She glanced down at the scattered debris of the shattered boulder, then back up at him, his towering figure starkly contrasting with the small, fragile world she'd always known.
"I… I was wandering," she began, her voice faltering at first, barely audible over the faint drip of water echoing in the cavern. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to continue.
"In the forest. I was looking at flowers and animals, and then I found a big tree. There was a tunnel under it—a cave. I didn't mean to come so far, but…" She trailed off, her gray eyes flickering with guilt and wonder. "I just wanted to see what was inside."
The man listened in silence; his massive arms still crossed over his chest, the markings on his skin glinting faintly in the dim light.
His expression didn't change, complicated and unreadable, but his head tilted slightly as if piecing together her story.
A low grunt escaped him, not quite a response, more an acknowledgment of her words. He didn't seem angry, but a weight to his silence made her feel small, like a sparrow caught in a storm.
Mikasa swallowed, her curiosity swelling despite the knot of fear in her stomach.
He'd asked her name and reason for being here…, and now it was her turn. She straightened a little, her small frame trembling but resolute, and met his glowing gaze.
"What's your name?" she asked, her voice steadier now, though it carried the innocence of a child unafraid to question the unknown.
The man blinked, the white glow of his eyes flickering as if her question had jolted him. For a moment, he didn't answer. His brow furrowed, and he raised a hand to his temple again, fingers digging into his spiky white hair as a shadow of pain crossed his face.
"My name…" he muttered, his voice rough and halting, like a man dredging up something buried deep. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening, and then his eyes snapped back to her with sudden clarity.
"Asura," he said, the word rumbling from his chest like a declaration, heavy with a fury he couldn't fully contain. "I am Asura."
Mikasa's lips parted, the name striking her like a chord she didn't understand.
Asura. It didn't sound like any name she'd ever heard, not from the farmers in Wall Maria or the stories her parents told.
It felt… ancient and powerful, like the roar that had freed him from the stone. She stared at him, her mind racing with questions she didn't know how to ask.
Who was he? What was he? And why had he been trapped beneath the earth she'd walked over all her life?
Asura lowered his hand, his gaze drifting past her again as if searching the shadows for answers.
"A forest… a tunnel…" he murmured, almost to himself, his voice laced with frustration. "None of this makes sense." He flexed his metallic fists, the faint creak of his skin echoing in the stillness, and then fixed his eyes on her again. "You shouldn't be here, Mikasa. This place… it's not safe."
Mikasa's brows knit together, her small face scrunching in confusion as she studied Asura.
His name still echoed in her mind… Asura… strange and heavy, like a secret she wasn't meant to hear. She tilted her head, her gray eyes tracing the golden markings on his arms, the unnatural glow of his white eyes, the sheer power radiating from his massive frame.
He didn't look like her father or anyone she'd ever met. A question bubbled up, too big to hold back.
"Are you human?" she asked, her voice soft but direct, cutting through the cavern's stillness like a pebble dropped in a pond.
Asura paused, his head jerking slightly as if the question caught him off guard.
Then, a low, rumbling chuckle escaped him, a sound rough and dry, like stones grinding together. It wasn't mocking, but it had an edge of amusement as if her innocence struck a chord he hadn't expected.
He uncrossed his arms, letting them hang at his sides, and fixed his glowing gaze on her. "No," he said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying a weight that made the air hum. "I'm a demigod."
Mikasa's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in a perfect little "O." She blinked once, twice, as if waiting for the word to make sense, but it didn't.
Demigod! It sounded like something from a fairy tale, a word too grand for the dusty farmland she called home.
She took a small step closer, her fear momentarily eclipsed by a flood of curiosity.
"What's… a demigod?" she asked, her tone a mix of wonder and bewilderment, the question tumbling out before she could stop it.
Asura's chuckle faded, replaced by a faint smirk that tugged at one corner of his mouth. He flexed his metallic fingers, the golden sheen catching the fractured sunlight, and tilted his head as if considering how to explain something so vast to someone so small.
"A demigod," he began, his voice slower now, deliberate, "is… more than human. Stronger. Born of power… gods and mortals tangled together." He paused, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly as if the words tasted bitter. "Not quite a god, but not weak like men."
Mikasa stared at him, dumbfounded. Her mind raced, grasping at fragments of meaning. Stronger than humans? Born of gods? She'd heard her mother tell stories of Titans giants that devoured people beyond the Walls, but those were monsters, not gods.
And Asura wasn't a Titan. He was… something else. Something alive, angry, and standing right in front of her. She clutched her dress tighter, her small hands trembling not from fear now but from the sheer impossibility of it all.
"You're… not weak," she murmured, almost to herself, her eyes tracing his chest muscles, the scars, and markings that told a story she couldn't read. Then she looked up at him again, her voice hesitant but earnest. "But what does that mean? Are you… good?"
Asura's smirk vanished, his expression darkening as if her question struck a nerve. He turned his head away, his white hair catching the light as he stared into the shadows of the cavern.
"Good?" he muttered, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. "I don't know what I am anymore." He clenched his fists, the faint creak of his golden arms echoing in the silence, and for a moment,
Mikasa thought she saw something flicker in his eyes: pain, rage, or both.
She watched Asura's face darken, his words hanging heavy in the air like storm clouds. The pain in his voice, the way his fists clenched as if holding back a tide of fury, stirred something in her, a quiet ache she didn't fully understand.
He wasn't like anyone she'd ever known, this towering demigod with glowing eyes and a heart that seemed broken and fierce. Without thinking, she stepped closer, her small hand trembling as she reached out.
Her fingers brushed against his giant palm, tentative and light, barely a whisper of touch against his skin's rough, metallic warmth.
Asura stiffened, his glowing eyes snapping to her in surprise. His hand dwarfed hers, calloused, scarred, and etched with golden markings that pulsed faintly under her touch, but she didn't pull away.
She pressed her fingertips gently against him, a child's instinct to comfort something vast and wounded.
Asura didn't move momentarily, his massive frame rigid as stone. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, the hard lines of his face softening ever so slightly.
The glow in his eyes dimmed just enough to reveal a flicker of something human beneath the rage, something weary and grateful.
He stared down at her, this tiny girl with dirt-streaked cheeks and a kindness he hadn't expected.
In her gray eyes, in the gentle curve of her touch, he saw a shadow of someone else… Mithra.
His daughter. The memory hit him like a dull blade, sharp enough to wound but too faint to grasp fully. His chest tightened, a pang of loss he couldn't name.
Mikasa didn't notice the shift in him, and he didn't see the ghosts that flickered through his mind. She just stood there, her hand resting on his, offering what little she could.
Asura exhaled, a low, rumbling sound that wasn't quite a sigh, and his massive fingers curled slightly, not to trap her but to acknowledge her presence.
"Let's go," he said abruptly, his voice gruff but softer than before.
He reached down, his giant hand enveloping hers with surprising care, warm against her skin.
Mikasa blinked, startled by the suddenness, but didn't resist as he tugged her gently forward. His grip was firm yet gentle, a tether between them as he turned toward the tunnel.
Together, they moved through the dark passage, Asura's broad shoulders brushing the stone walls, Mikasa's small steps quickening to match his stride.
The air grew lighter as they ascended, the damp chill of the cave giving way to the crisp scent of pine and earth. Sunlight spilled through the entrance ahead, bathing them in a golden glow as they emerged from beneath the ancient tree.
Asura released her hand, stepping into the forest with a deep breath, his white hair catching the breeze. Mikasa lingered a pace behind, rubbing her wrist where his warmth remained, her eyes wide as she watched him take in the world outside.
The forest stretched around them, alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, starkly contrasting the shadowed cavern they'd left behind. Whatever lay ahead, she knew one thing: her quiet life had changed forever.
Outside the Ackerman house, the sky darkened as heavy clouds rolled in, unleashing a sudden, relentless rain.
Water drummed against the roof and streaked down the windows, cloaking the farmland in a gray veil.
The peaceful hum of the hearth inside was drowned out by the storm's low growl, unseen by Mikasa's parents; three figures emerged from the shadows of the fields, their silhouettes blurred by the downpour as they crept toward the house.
The leader was a stout man, his short beard dripping with rain beneath a sodden wool cap pulled low over his brow. His eyes glinted with cold calculation, a knife tucked discreetly in his grip.
Beside him loomed the axe wielder, older and gaunt, his tall, thin frame hunched against the wind. His short blond hair was plastered to his skull, and a thin mustache framed a cruel smirk, the axe in his hands gleaming faintly with menace.
The third man moved with an eerie calm. He was well dressed in a tailored coat now soaked through, his clean-shaven face and short brown hair giving him an air of misplaced refinement.
Together, they approached the Ackerman residence, their footsteps muffled by the mud and rain.
Inside, the kitchen's warmth flickered as Mr. Ackerman sat with his wife. A sharp knock rattled the door, cutting through the storm's rhythm. He straightened, a flicker of relief crossing his weathered face.
"That'll be Dr. Yeager," he said, rising from the table with a faint smile. "Probably brought his son along to check on you and the baby."
His wife nodded, her hands resting on her swollen belly as she returned to the stew simmering on the stove.
Mr. Ackerman crossed the room, his boots thudding against the wooden floor, and swung the door open.
"Good to see you—" His words died in his throat. The stout man stood there, rain dripping from his cap, his expression blank and pitiless.
Before Mr. Ackerman could react, the leader's hand flashed forward, driving a knife deep into his chest with a sickening thud.
Blood bloomed across his shirt, a dark stain spreading as his eyes widened in shock. He staggered back, clutching at the wound, and crumpled to the floor with a choked gasp, the life draining from him in seconds.
The leader stepped inside, calm and deliberate, wiping the blade on his sleeve as his men followed. The axe wielder grinned, twirling his weapon with a casual menace, while the well-dressed man shut the door behind them, his polished boots clicking against the wood.
The air turned thick with dread, the storm outside a distant roar compared to the violence unfolding within.
Mikasa's mother spun around, the ladle clattering from her hand as she saw her husband's body slumped by the threshold.
A scream tore from her throat, raw, primal, but she didn't freeze. Instinct kicked in, and she lunged for a kitchen knife on the counter, her pregnant frame moving with desperate speed.
"Get out!" she shouted, her voice trembling with fury and fear as she brandished the blade. "Leave us alone!"
The axe holder laughed, a sharp, grating sound, and stepped forward. "Feisty one, ain't she?" he sneered, his thin mustache twitching.
She swung the knife at him, the blade slicing through the air, but he was faster.
With a brutal arc, he brought the axe down, striking her shoulder with a wet crunch. The force drove her to her knees, blood spurting from the wound as the knife slipped from her grasp.
Her scream cut off abruptly, her body collapsing beside the hearth, her dark hair pooling in a crimson stain on the floor.
The leader's calm shattered. He rounded on him, his face twisting with fury.
"You idiot!" he snarled, grabbing the man's collar and shoving him back. "She was one of the wanted! Rare… worth more alive than your damn axe is worth in coin!"
He gestured sharply at the woman's corpse, her blood seeping into the floorboards. "Her kind… a full pure Asian blood…fetch a fortune in the underground. Now she's useless!"
The other shrugged, wiping the blood from his blade with a sneer. "She was fighting. What was I supposed to do, let her gut me?" He spat on the floor, unrepentant.
The third man stepped forward, his voice smooth and cold. "Enough. What's done is done. The girl's the priority now… she's got the same blood." He glanced at the leader, his eyes narrowing. "Assuming she's still alive out there."
The leader released him with a disgusted grunt, turning to survey the scene.
"Find her," he ordered, his voice flat but edged with urgency. "She can't have gone far." He kicked Mr. Ackerman's body aside as he moved deeper into the house, the storm outside raging on, oblivious to the slaughter within.
Unbeknownst to them, the girl… the rare prize they sought was far from their grasp, her fate now bound to a demigod whose wrath could topple more than just a house.
The forest had transformed under the sudden downpour, rain cascading through the canopy in shimmering sheets, turning the earth beneath Mikasa's feet into a slick, muddy mess.
She stepped out from the cave's shelter beside Asura, her small frame dwarfed by his towering presence, and gasped as the cold droplets stung her face.
"Rain?" she murmured, blinking at the gray sky, surprise widening her gray eyes. She hadn't noticed the storm brewing while they were underground, and now it felt like the world had shifted in her absence.
Her wonder faded as a sharp twinge shot through her ankle, a dull ache that flared with each step. She winced, slowing her pace, her small hand brushing against her leg as if to soothe it.
Asura's glowing eyes flicked downward, catching the subtle hitch in her gait. He stopped, his massive frame casting a shadow over her even in the dim, rain-streaked light.
"You alright, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with a concern that softened its edges.
Mikasa hesitated, biting her lip as she tested her weight on the injured ankle. Another jolt of pain made her flinch. "My ankle hurts," she admitted quietly, her voice almost lost in the patter of rain.
She looked up at him, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks, unsure what to say next. She didn't want to seem weak, not in front of him.
Asura didn't wait for her to ask. With a low grunt, he bent down and scooped her up in one fluid motion, his massive arms cradling her like she weighed nothing at all.
Mikasa let out a startled yelp, her hands instinctively grabbing at his broad shoulders as he lifted her against his chest. His golden markings glowed faintly beneath the rain, warm against her chilled skin, and she felt the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her palms. He held her like a father might hold a child: firm, protective, unwavering.
"Easy," he muttered, adjusting his grip so she nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm. Mikasa blinked at him, then relaxed, her tense muscles easing as she rested her chin against his chest.
The rain drummed against his bare skin, but he didn't seem to mind, his tanned face set in a determined scowl as he scanned the forest ahead.
He raised a hand, gentler than she'd expected, and patted her head, his calloused fingers ruffling her damp hair.
"This way's your house," he said, his voice low but sure, as if he could sense it through the storm. He nodded toward a faint path winding through the trees, half-hidden by the rain and mist.
Mikasa tilted her head to follow his gaze, then looked back at him. A small, shy smile curved her lips, the first real one she'd managed since the wolf's attack.
"Yes, it's," she said softly, nodding. The pain in her ankle faded to a dull throb, overshadowed by the strange comfort of being carried by this giant of a man, a demigod who, despite his fury, treated her with a care she hadn't expected. She leaned into him, her cheek brushing his chest, trusting him to guide her home through the storm.
Asura trudged forward, his heavy steps unfaltering despite the mud and rain; Mikasa cradled securely in his arms. The forest blurred around them, the world shrinking to the warmth between them and the distant promise of her house, unaware of the tragedy waiting for them.
Moments Later
The rain had softened to a drizzle as Asura and Mikasa emerged from the forest's edge, the familiar outline of her house coming into view through the mist.
The golden glow of late afternoon filtered through the clouds, casting an eerie light over the farmland, but something felt wrong.
The air was too still, too heavy. Asura's steps slowed, his glowing eyes narrowing as he spotted the front door hanging ajar, swaying slightly in the damp breeze. Muddy footprints streaked the porch, dark and chaotic, leading inside.
Mikasa's breath hitched, her tiny body tensing in his arms. "Put me down," she said, her voice sharp with sudden urgency.
She wriggled free before he could respond, landing on her good leg and hobbling toward the house as fast as her injured ankle allowed. Panic flickered in her chest; she needed to see her parents, needed to know they were safe.
Asura's hand shot out, his massive fingers closing around her wrist with a gentle but unyielding grip.
"Wait," he growled, his tone low and edged with warning. He pulled her back, forcing her to stop. "Something's not right here, kid. Calm down."
Mikasa's wide eyes darted to him, then back to the house, her heart pounding. "But… my mom, my dad…"
Her voice cracked, trembling with fear, but she saw the seriousness in his glowing gaze and nodded shakily.
She stayed close, limping behind him as he took the lead, his broad frame shielding her as they approached the open door.
They stepped inside, and the world shattered.
Mikasa froze, a choked gasp escaping her lips as her eyes fell on the scene.
Her father lay sprawled near the threshold, his chest stained crimson, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.
The hearth crumpled her mother, blood pooling beneath her, the axe wound in her shoulder a brutal gash that had stolen her life and the life of the unborn child she carried.
The air reeked of iron and death, the kitchen's warmth now a cruel mockery of the home it had been.
"No…" Mikasa's voice broke, a sob tearing from her throat as she sank to her knees.
Tears streamed down her face, hot and unstoppable, her small hands reaching out as if she could undo the horror before her.
"Mom! Dad!" she wailed, her cries echoing through the house, raw and piercing. She clutched at the floor, her fingers digging into the wood, her world collapsing into grief.
Asura stood motionless behind her, his glowing eyes taking in the carnage. His fists clenched at his sides, his arms flaring faintly as a storm brewed within him.
The sight of the girl's pain, the senseless slaughter of her family, struck a chord deep in his soul, a rage he knew too well. He closed his eyes, his breath slow and deliberate, but the fury simmered beneath, ready to erupt.
A low snarl broke the silence, and Asura's eyes snapped open.
Three men stepped from the shadows of the hallway, their figures outlined by the flickering firelight.
One is a stout man with the wool cap sneered, his knife still slick with blood. He looks like their boss!
The second, a tall blond holding an axe, twirled his weapon lazily, a cruel grin splitting his face.
The third behind him has a calm, unshaken demeanor, though his eyes narrowed at the sight of Asura.
The leader's gaze flicked from Mikasa's sobbing form to the towering figure before her, his sneer faltering for a split second.
"Step back, freak," he barked, regaining his composure as he brandished his knife. "Hand over the girl. Our client's paying good money for herz… rare blood like hers fetches a high price in the slave pits."
Mikasa whimpered, scrambling backward until her back pressed against Asura's legs. Her tear-streaked face turned up to him, her hands clutching at his tattered pants, seeking safety in the only shield she had left.
Asura didn't look at her; his eyes locked onto the men, and his voice dropped to a dark, guttural rumble that shook the air.
"You did this?" he asked, each word laced with a barely restrained wrath. His head tilted slightly, the spiky white hair dripping with rain, his massive frame radiating a menace that made the walls tremble.
The axe holder laughed nervously, though his grip tightened on his weapon. "What's it to you, brute? She's ours now… back off or bleed."
The third man raised a hand, his voice smooth but wary. "Let's not escalate this. Give us the girl, and we walk away."
Asura's lips curled into a snarl, his golden arms flexing as the markings blazed brighter. The air grew heavy, charged with the promise of violence. "Wrong answer," he growled, his rage no longer contained.
In the blink of an eye, Asura vanished from where he stood, a blur of motion too fast for human eyes to follow.
The third man barely had time to register the movement before Asura's massive hand clamped around his throat.
With a sickening crunch, Asura twisted, snapping the man's arms like brittle twigs, the bones splintering audibly.
A scream tore from his throat, cut short as Asura seized his legs and wrenched them backward, shattering them with the ease of breaking a doll.
The man crumpled to the floor, writhing in agony, his limbs bent at unnatural angles, blood pooling beneath him.
The other two men froze, their bravado evaporating as the air thickened with dread. The tall, thin one with the axe recovered first, his face contorting with desperate fury.
"You son of bitch!" he roared, charging at Asura and swinging his weapon in a wild arc. The blade met Asura's neck with a resounding clang and shattered.
Fragments of steel clattered to the floor, the axe head reduced to useless shards against the demigod's unyielding skin.
The man staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief, his trembling hands clutching the broken handle.
Asura turned slowly, his glowing white eyes locking onto the shaken robber.
Without a word, he lunged forward, his hand piercing through the man's chest like a spear.
Flesh tore, ribs cracked, and blood sprayed as Asura's fingers closed around the robber's still-beating heart.
With a savage yank, he ripped it free, the organ glistening crimson in his grip before he crushed it, letting the gore drip between his golden fingers.
The man's body slumped to the ground, lifeless, a gaping hole where his life had been.
The leader's composure shattered, fear clawing its way up his throat as he stumbled back, his wool cap slipping.
His eyes darted to Mikasa, huddled against the wall, with tears on her pale face mixed with horror.
In a panicked bid for control, he lunged at her, knife flashing in his hand. He seized her by the arm, yanking her to her feet and pressing a blade to her throat.
"Stay back!" he shouted, his voice cracking with terror as he glared at Asura. "Come any closer, freak, and I'll slit her throat! I swear it!"
Mikasa whimpered, her tiny body trembling against his grip, the cold steel biting into her skin. Her gray eyes met Asura's, pleading, but she didn't dare move.
Asura didn't flinch. His glowing gaze darkened, a storm of rage brewing beneath his calm exterior.
He took a deliberate step forward, then another, his heavy steps thudding against the blood-slicked floor.
The leader's bravado faltered, his knife trembling against Mikasa's neck, and Asura vanished again.
Instantly, he reappeared behind the man, his towering form looming like a vengeful specter. The leader gasped, his head whipping around, but it was too late.
Asura's massive hand clamped around the back of the man's skull, fingers digging into his flesh with unrelenting force.
Asura slammed his ugly face into the ground with a cold, methodical fury. The first impact cracked the floorboards, blood exploding from the man's nose and mouth.
Again and again, Asura drove him down, each strike a thunderous boom that shook the house, tearing skin and splintering bone.
The leader's screams turned to gurgles, then silence, as his face became a mangled ruin, blood and flesh smearing across the wood in a grotesque streak.
When Asura finally released him, the man's body twitched once and went still, a lifeless husk in a crimson pool of blood.
The third man, the last one standing, had collapsed to his knees, his pristine coat now stained with sweat and blood.
Terror paralyzed him, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he watched the carnage unfold. He couldn't run; his legs refused to obey, but he clawed at the floor, dragging himself toward the open door in a desperate, crawling bid for survival.
His polished facade was gone, replaced by a whimpering, broken man scrambling through the gore.
Mikasa pressed herself against the wall, her hands clamped over her mouth, stifling sobs as the ground quaked with each of Asura's blows.
Her wide eyes darted between the bodies and the demigod, her mind reeling. She'd never seen anything like this… never imagined such violence, such merciless power.
The warmth she'd felt in Asura's arms moments ago clashed with the horror before her, leaving her shaken.
Blood splattered the walls, the air thick with the stench of death, and yet Asura stood unwavering, his white hair dripping with rain and gore, his rage a force that consumed everything in its path.
He turned slowly, his glowing eyes sweeping the room, glancing at the crawling robber, who had nearly reached the door, his trembling hands clawing at the threshold.
In a heartbeat, Asura closed the distance, his massive frame a blur of fury. His blood-streaked hand shot out, seizing the man by the collar of his soaked coat and yanking him back with bone-jarring force.
The robber's polished boots skidded uselessly against the floor as Asura slammed him against the wall, the impact cracking the wood behind him. Pinned like a moth under a giant's thumb, the man's breath came in ragged gasps, his face drained of color.
"Who's your client?" Asura snarled his voice, a guttural roar that vibrated through the house, shaking the dust from the rafters.
His eyes bore into his soul, glowing unholy, and his golden markings pulsated like molten veins across his arms. Blood dripped from his fingers, mingling with the rain still clinging to his hair. His snarl bared teeth that seemed too sharp for any human mouth.
The robber's mind reeled, his body pinned so tightly he could barely breathe. Who the hell is this guy? The thought screamed through his skull, frantic and disjointed.
He'd seen Titans in sketches and heard tales of their mindless hunger, but this… this was different.
This wasn't human; it wasn't even a monster in the way he understood. The strength, the speed, the sheer rage radiating from this freak… it was something beyond comprehension that made his blood run cold. His polished facade crumbled, replaced by a primal, animal fear as he stared into those glowing eyes.
Asura's patience snapped. "ANSWER ME!" he bellowed, his voice a thunderclap that rattled the windows. His free hand seized the man's wrist, and with a flick of his fingers, he crushed the man's bones like dry twigs.
The snap echoed through the room, followed by a piercing scream as the man's hand twisted at an unnatural angle, fingers dangling uselessly.
Pain seared through him, white-hot and blinding, and he thrashed against the wall, his legs kicking feebly in the air.
"Stop… please!" He wailed, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the sweat and grime. His voice cracked, high and desperate, all traces of his earlier calm erased.
"I… I don't know his name! Some rich bastard from the interior… Wall Sina! He wanted the girl and her mother… cause they were both of rare heritage an Asian, and worth a fortune! That's all I know, I swear!" His words tumbled out in a panicked rush, his chest heaving as he fought to appease the demigod's wrath.
The man's pleas spilled out in a frantic, broken stream, his voice hoarse from screaming. "Please—let me go! I told you everything I know… all of it! I won't come back, I swear!".
His tears twisted with desperation, his broken hand clawing weakly at Asura's grip, his body trembling beneath the demigod's iron hold.
His coat was shredded, soaked with sweat and blood, a pitiful shadow of the calm man who'd walked into the house.
Asura's glowing eyes didn't waver, his snarl deepening into something feral, a sound that rumbled from his chest like an earthquake.
Mercy wasn't in him, not for this villainous, not for the blood on his hands, the greed in his heart.
With a swift, savage motion, he released the his throat, only to slam him face-first into the ground.
The floorboards cracked under the impact, blood spraying from the man's nose as he gasped, dazed and helpless.
"Like hell, I'll let you go," Asura growled a low, venomous promise that cut through the robber's whimpers.
He planted his left foot on the man's back, pinning him like an insect, his markings flaring with each pulse of rage.
The man squirmed, his legs kicking feebly, but Asura's strength was absolute. With a deliberate shift, Asura raised the other leg high, his boot hovering above the man's skull for a fleeting, terrible moment.
His eyes widened, a final, choked "No—" escaping his lips before Asura brought his foot down.
The stomp landed with a sickening crunch, the skull collapsing under the force like an overripe fruit.
Bone splintered, blood and brain matter splattered across the floor, a gruesome halo spreading beneath the lifeless body.
The house shuddered with the impact, a tremor that rattled the walls and sent a fresh wave of dust cascading from the ceiling.
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the faint rain drip through the open door and the crackle of the dying fire.
The trafficker's corpse lay still, his once refined features unrecognizable, a testament to Asura's merciless fury.
Mikasa flinched with each sound, the pin, the plea, the final, horrific stomp, her tiny body pressed tighter against the wall. Her hands clamped over her ears now, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she stared at the carnage.
The demigod she'd trusted, who'd carried her gently through the rain, had become a force of destruction, his wrath as unstoppable as it was terrifying.
She'd never seen death like this, never imagined it could be so swift, so brutal.
Her sobs quieted to shaky breaths, her gray eyes wide with a mix of grief and fear, locked on Asura's towering form.
Asura stood over the body, his chest heaving, his golden arms slick with blood and rain. His glowing eyes dimmed slightly, the rage ebbing but not gone, a fire banked but ready to flare again.
He turned his head slowly, his gaze settling on Mikasa. For a moment, the air between them held a silent question in her trembling stare, a flicker of something softer in his stern features.
Mikasa felt fear consuming her soul, a primal instinct screaming that this man, this unstoppable force of destruction, was dangerous.
His hands, capable of crushing bone and tearing life apart, loomed large in her mind, and her breath hitched as she stared at him.
But beneath the fear, something else stirred… an instinct deeper than terror.
He'd saved her, from the wolf in the cave, from the traffickers who'd slaughtered her family, this man had stood between her and death, his wrath a shield as much as a weapon.
Her parents' lifeless bodies lay behind her, their blood pooling on the floor, and the pain of their loss clawed at her heart.
Yet these men, these monsters who'd taken everything from her, were gone, ripped apart by the same hands that had carried her gently through the forest.
He'd avenged them, turned their killers into broken husks, and that truth anchored her amidst the storm of her grief.
Her legs moved before her mind caught up. She pushed off the wall and ran to him, her tiny feet slipping slightly on the blood-slicked floor.
Asura turned fully toward her, his glowing eyes softening as she closed the distance.
She threw herself against him, her arms wrapping around his massive waist as far as they could reach, her face burying into his rain-soaked chest.
Sobs broke free, loud and ragged, her tears mingling with the blood and water staining his skin.
"Thank you," she choked out, her voice muffled against him, barely audible through her crying. "You… you saved me…"
Asura froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. His bloodied hands hovered awkwardly, hesitant to touch her fragile form.
Then, slowly, he lowered one massive palm to rest on her head, his fingers threading gently through her damp hair.
The warmth of her tiny body pressed against him stirred a sharp, unexpected pain in his chest, a hollow ache that cut deeper than any wound.
She reminded him of Mithra again, her trust and vulnerability piercing through the armor of his rage. He patted her head softly, his touch a stark contrast to the violence he'd just unleashed.
"They didn't deserve this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, thick with an emotion he couldn't name.
His glowing eyes drifted to the bodies of her parents, her father sprawled by the door, her mother crumpled near the hearth, and the unborn child lost with her. A family torn apart, their quiet life snuffed out by greed and cruelty.
The injustice gnawed at him, fueling the ember of fury still smoldering in his gut. "But those bastards…"
His gaze flicked to the mangled corpses of the robbers, their blood painting the room in grotesque streaks. "They deserved worse."
Mikasa clung tighter, her sobs quieting to shaky breaths as she drew comfort from his solid presence.
The fear lingered; she couldn't erase the image of his stomp, the sound of shattering bone, but it was eclipsed by the safety she felt in his shadow.
He was a storm, a destroyer, but he was her storm now, a protector born of wrath. Asura's hand remained on her head, steady and warm, as he stared down at her.
The pain in his heart grew, an echo of losses he couldn't fully recall, but he didn't pull away. For her sake, he stayed.
The rain pattered softly outside, the fire flickering its last embers, casting their silhouettes against the wall, a grieving child and a demigod bound by blood and vengeance in a house now silent but for their shared sorrow.
To Be Continued