II
Lunch in prison wasn’t really about food.
It was about power. Territory. Who looked at who and who dared to look back.
And somehow, I was walking in with them—Pieck and Yelena—like I belonged.
Yelena led the way, tall and sharp like she carved through the room just by existing. Pieck walked beside me with that usual lazy saunter, like this place couldn’t bother her even if it tried.
“You nervous?” Pieck asked under her breath as we passed the serving line.
I didn’t answer right away, just held onto my tray a little tighter. “What gave it away? The thousand-yard stare or the clenched jaw?”
She smirked. “Both. Adorable.”
Yelena glanced back. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” she said smoothly. “You’re with us. No one’s dumb enough to start anything.”
I didn’t say it out loud, but I wasn’t worried about them. I was worried about me. About what I might turn into in here.
We sat at a table near the back—quiet but visible, close to the wall where Yelena could observe the whole room like she was overseeing some battlefield. Pieck immediately started mixing her food like a chemist with no regard for texture. I poked at mine, unimpressed.
Yelena watched me with a faint smile. “First prison lunch?”
I snorted. “What gave it away? The way I keep checking for poison or the fact that I haven’t eaten a single bite?”
“That little crinkle between your eyebrows,” she said, leaning in a little. “Cute.”
I glanced at her, blinking once. “That a prison thing or a you thing?”
“Why can’t it be both?” she said, eyes glittering.
Pieck let out a soft laugh. “Careful, Yelena. She’s got more bite than you think.”
“I like a girl who bites,” Yelena replied casually, then took a sip of whatever counted as juice in here like she didn’t just say that out loud.
I raised a brow. “You flirt with all the new inmates, or am I just special?”
“Oh, you’re very special,” she said with that easy grin, but her eyes held something sharper. Like she was studying me. Like she saw through the cracks and liked the shape of them.
Before I could answer, I felt it.
That unmistakable weight of someone watching me.
I looked up, and there she was.
Sitting alone a few tables over—short black hair, toned arms, dead calm posture. Mikasa. Her stare wasn’t hostile, but it was intense. Focused. Like she was sizing me up for something I didn’t understand yet.
I leaned closer to Pieck. “Okay, don’t be weird, but who’s the girl staring at me like I stole her lunch money?”
Pieck looked up lazily, then tilted her head. “Ah. Mikasa.”
“She’s quiet,” Yelena said flatly. “Keeps to herself. Don’t bother.”
“She dangerous?” I asked.
Pieck hummed. “In a fight? Yeah. In general? Depends. She’s not really the ‘make friends and braid hair’ type.”
Yelena leaned in a little, voice smooth as ever. “She’s boring. You’re better off sticking with us.”
I gave her a smirk. “Says the girl trying to recruit me like I’m a free agent.”
“Not trying,” Yelena said, gaze lingering. “Just letting you know you’ve already made the cut.”
It wasn’t subtle anymore. But it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Just… interesting. Yelena was clearly playing her game.
And Mikasa? She hadn’t looked away once.
03.49 PM
The bathrooms were hell.
Not the worst kind, but the kind that made your skin crawl—open stalls, shitty water pressure, and girls who stared too long or not at all.
I clutched the towel Pieck tossed me earlier and walked through the corridor, flip-flops smacking against the wet tile. The sound echoed too loud, every step reminding me I didn’t belong here yet. That I was still new. Still figuring this whole place out.
I reached the row of showers—metal, grimy, always either too cold or scalding. Two girls were already inside, laughing like they were back in a high school locker room. I didn’t look at them.
I just picked the last stall, farthest from the door. Less eyes. Less risk.
Steam curled around my face as I twisted the knob. Cold water hit my skin first. I clenched my jaw and waited for it to settle, then leaned my head back, letting it soak into my hair.
I hadn’t even started soaping up when I felt it again.
That fucking stare.
I opened my eyes, blinking water away—and there she was.
Mikasa.
Leaning against the tiled wall near the sinks, arms crossed. Fully dressed, not even pretending to be here to shower.
Just.. watching.
“Jesus,” I muttered, turning the water off halfway and poking my head out from behind the stall. “You gonna stare at me every time I get naked, or is this a one-time offer?”
She didn’t react. Just blinked, slow. “Didn’t realize you were so shy.”
“I’m not,” I said, wringing out my hair. “But I am starting to think you’ve got a staring problem.”
Mikasa tilted her head. “You’re interesting.”
I stared back. “And you’re creepy.”
A pause.
Then, the ghost of a smirk tugged at her mouth.
First time I’d seen her show any expression other than silent menace.
“I saw you with Yelena earlier,” she said. “You fit in with them?”
“Do I look like I fit in?”
“No.” She glanced down the row of showers. “You look like you’re still deciding.”
I leaned against the cool metal of the stall door, arms crossed over my chest, towel clutched under my arm.
“Is that a warning?”
“It’s an observation,” she replied. “Yelena’s not who she pretends to be. Neither is Pieck.”
“Neither am I.”
That made her stop.
Mikasa met my eyes again, and something passed between us—something electric, quiet, dangerous.
“You’re not scared of me,” she said.
“I’ve met scarier.”
“Where are they now?”
I smiled faintly. “Dead.”
For the first time, she looked.. intrigued. Not surprised. Not impressed. Just like she understood.
Mikasa didn’t say anything else. She just turned, slow and deliberate, and walked out of the bathroom like she hadn’t just made my heartbeat spike without even touching me.
I stood there, water cooling on my skin, trying not to read too much into the silence she left behind.
But it was already too late.