Grisha had persuaded eren and me to venture out to the farmlands, enticing us with the promise of meeting the ackerman family—a name neither of us had ever heard before. at first, I hesitated; the rain fell in heavy sheets, and the rumble of distant thunder set my nerves on edge. but eren, always my unwavering anchor, met my unease with a warm, reassuring smile, his hand reaching for mine as he promised to stay by my side.
“Dad, how much longer? It’s freezing, and I’m soaked!” eren complained, squirming uncomfortably beneath his drenched jacket. His voice carried the unmistakable whine of someone thoroughly done with the day.
Grisha, undeterred by the miserable weather, pointed ahead with a firm yet encouraging tone. “not much farther, kids. See that house up there? that’s where we’re headed.”
Noticing Eren’s sour expression, I couldn’t resist the chance to lighten the mood. with a sly grin, I nudged him gently with my shoulder. “come on, slowpoke! I bet I can beat you there!”
Before he could react, I darted forward, my laughter ringing out over the rhythmic patter of rain. the challenge was set, and I knew eren wouldn’t back down.
“As always, I win!” I teased, stopping at the doorstep just as eren caught up. I reached out to poke his forehead, grinning mischievously. teasing him was too much fun, and his reactions were worth every second.
“not true! I let you win! you hear me?!” eren shouted, rubbing his forehead in mock indignation. his exaggerated pout sent me into a fit of laughter, the kind that made the cold and rain seem like distant memories.
Grisha finally caught up to us, shaking his head with a bemused smile. "Kids, no running, no shouting. I’m too old for this nonsense," he said, feigning exasperation. But the warmth in his voice and the glimmer in his eyes betrayed his amusement.
As he reached the door, grisha knocked twice, the sound cutting through the steady patter of rain. "Oh, and kids, make sure to be nice to mikasa," he added casually.
Mikasa? The name didn’t strike any familiar chord. I glanced at eren, who looked just as puzzled.
“Mikasa?” eren repeated, the confusion evident in his tone.
“That’s right,” grisha confirmed with a nod. “She’s a girl about your age. There aren’t many other children nearby, so I expect you two to get along with her.” He cast eren a pointed look, the kind only a father who’s endured countless scuffles could give. Out of the two of us, eren was always the one sporting fresh bruises, his habit of picking fights a well-documented fact.
