Chapter Text
Mikasa stares straight ahead, eyeing the countdown timer flashing in bright, blocky text on the screen above her. Her feet are squared, planted firmly on the wooden platform, shins pressed closed to the bar. She is on her final lift attempt for her snatch, technically her weakest lift. Mikasa's snatch could qualify her for nationals, and she probably had the strongest snatch in the state for her weight class, but of course it wasn't quite enough for her.
Stone cold eyes peer down at the barbell that had previously been loaded with several bumper plates to bring the total weight up to eighty-five kilos. She had made eighty kilos just about a minute ago during her last attempt, so this should be a breeze. She bends down, knees extending past the barbell, back locked into a sturdy column, powerful and unmoving as her hands assume the position with a wide snatch grip. Her shoulders flex as the muscles that make up her upper back, ripple from the sheer power. She sucks in, expanding her lungs and bracing her core against her belt as her back tightens into a solid plank.
She drags the bar up in a deadlift motion, slow and steady, just until it reaches her knees. Then, the movement shifts. She drives the bar powerfully up the length of her quads, creating enough momentum to launch the barbell well over the top of her head. She moves quickly and precisely, feet exploding into a wide squat position as her arms lock out. She catches the barbell over her head and descends into a deep squat. She braces her legs, desperately fighting the weight above her head as she presses the weight upward to complete the motion.
Mikasa's eyes dart toward the judges. Every second counts in this moment, and every feeling amplified. The strain of her arms as the tremble slightly, the pressure on her shoulders, and her legs carrying the full weight. She counts the seconds; one, two, then three white lights shine bright, indicating a good lift. The buzzer rings and Mikasa drops the barbell. It lands with a heavy thud, followed by the crowd erupting into cheers and whistles.
As she scans the crowd again, and she sees two of her close friends celebrating in the audience. Eren, wildly flailing his arms above his head, screaming what she presumed to be her name and something else unintelligible, then Armin standing next to him with a beaming smile plastered across his face. Her expression softens, and a small smile appears on her lips as she wipes away a droplet of sweat running down her forehead. She dusts the chalk off her hands and heads to the green room.
'Snatch what you can, clean what you must.' It was a saying her coach always said to her during off-season training since Mikasa's clean is significantly stronger than her snatch. The idea was for her to do her best attempt for her snatch, but to save the rest of her strength for the clean. And most importantly, don't get injured during the snatch. That would be detrimental for her scores and an injury suffered from a lift like that would ruin her athletic career.
The next portion of the competition is dedicated to the clean and jerk. Mikasa is an absolute powerhouse that can move insane weight in this lift, so naturally, her overall score relies heavily on the weight she can pull for her cleans.
Mikasa sits down, wiping sweat from her chest with a towel. She wouldn't be up again for the next 10 minutes because all the lower weighted attempts would go first. The heavier lifts are done towards the end. She wasn't particularly worried anyways. She had plenty of time to rest and she was sure she would breeze through her next two lifts. She easily lifts one-hundred-five kilos in her training sessions during the off-season. Now, imagine her at her peak. Of course, her assessment was not wrong. She makes two good lifts with zero penalties, but there is still one more. The lift that really mattered was her third attempt: one-hundred-ten kilos.
Mikasa looks up at the screen as she watches the girl before her who had just finished her lift. She rushes off stage and into the green room, looking very upset. She throws her towel down, frustrated, the slouches on the bench. She must have missed her lift.
Suddenly Mikasa's name flashes on the screen. She stands up, making her way towards the platform, as she keeps a close eye on the countdown timer. She still has the full two minutes to perform her lift, so she heads over to the metal basin to pat her hands down with chalk. At the minute mark, she steps up to the plate staring down at the one-hundred-ten kilos anchored on the ground menacingly. No matter. She is confident in this lift. She can do this in her sleep.
She plants her feet in front of the barbell for the last time today, bending down, assuming a close grip position. She braces her core tightly like the first time, rolling her shoulders back and tightening her muscles in place. She begins the pull, deadlifting the barbell with surprising ease and driving it up in one swift motion. She snaps her feet under the bar quickly, catching the weight with ease as her shoulders and triceps bulge underneath the weight. The weight felt almost a little too light, but again, ever second counts. There's no time to waste.
Now jerk.
Mikasa sucks a breath in, bracing against her belt, and creating an immovable pillar with her spine. She dips her knees, pausing in the dip for a half second before driving upwards as she sends the bar flying because of the momentum. Her feet fly apart and she catches the bar cleanly, elbows locked out and knees bent. She glances again and the judges, and for a moment the room goes quiet in anticipation. Three white lights and then a blaring buzzer.
A sigh of relief escapes her lips, and Mikasa drops the weight with a loud thud that reverberates throughout the room.
She walks off as the cheering and clapping fade into white noise.
She just secured another victory. Weightlifting is her life. At the rate she is going, she is set to compete in the olympics. Another win for the books. Maybe she'll go out for dinner with Erin and Armin to celebrate, maybe have a few drinks. She was happy. This was happiness.
. . .
The library was the best place to study, mostly because no one ever studied there, so it was always empty. It was a way's away from Eren's crazy antics that simply made it too distracting for Mikasa to study at home. It even helped her get away from the busy bustling of the student body and the constant 'congratulations' and 'well done's' from everyone and their mother for the weightlifting comp last night. It's not that she was ungrateful for the praise. She enjoyed it. But it was one of those things that became too much like flattery than anything else.
Mikasa combs a few fingers through her hair as her eyes fall upon the words of her criminal offenses textbook. It had only been a few hours, but her eyes felt heavy. She squints her eyes at the text as she feels a headache creeping up the back of her neck from hours of studying. She drops her head into her hands, rubbing her eyes as she allows the dark locks of hair fall all over her face. She lets out a sigh.
A voice comes out of nowhere, nearly startling her. "Hey, Mikasa right?" a low voice whispers. Her eyes peel away from her textbook and as she looks up, she notices the person sitting in front of her. Damn. She hadn't even noticed him. Did he pull a chair up? How long has he been sitting there? She blinks, twice, almost confused, but after a few seconds tick by, a crease forms between her brows. This again?
She suppresses the annoyance on her face as she nods. She examines his face, then his clothes. He wore a browned stained graphic tee, and sported a tattered up backpack slung half over his shoulder. It is half unzipped too. She exhales.
"Yes. That's me." she states flatly, fighting the urge to just ignore him and return her attention to her textbook.
There is an awkward silence. The young man seemed to be gathering his thoughts after Mikasa's not-so-weloming response. To his credit, he manages to maintain an awkward smile. "I-uh... I heard about your competition last night. You did amazing. And I-uh..." he trails off, stuttering, unable to make eye contact. Part of her pitied him, but at the same time, he chose to put himself in this situation. "I just thought you were really cute. Do you think maybe we could go for coffee sometime?" he asks nervously, fidgeting his hands under the table.
Mikasa sighs, flipping a page before looking back up at him. "Sorry, I'm kind of busy at the moment." She says, hoping the silence would ward him off. "Maybe next time."
He seems to take the hint that 'next time' meant 'never' and his expression turns to disappointment. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. Instead of prolonging the awkward moment, and to Mikasa's relief, he stands. The wooden chair scrapes against the floor and echoes the walls in the empty library. Mikasa relaxes into her seat as soon as he disappears from her peripheral.
Suddenly, Mikasa hears a light snort, feminine, and quiet. It was so faint, she is surprised she even noticed. In fact, she probably wouldn't have if the room weren't already so empty. She turns her head slowly, scanning around the room as she searches for the source of the sound. She finally notices that there actually is someone else in the room, but they had been too quiet for Mikasa to notice. Her eyes land on a short blonde girl, lounging around on a bean bag.
Annie Leonhardt. Certified stone cold bitch, second to Mikasa. She has a stiff, cold expression permanently etched into her face. Of course, now she's not so sure about that last part since Mikasa is certain that snort came from Annie. They lock eyes, and Mikasa watches as Annie's smirk fades and her lips fall in a straight line. She refuses to back down, however, challenging the blond with a steely gaze of her own. Annie's lip twitches, almost unseriously, but the boredom is apparent on her face.
"Something on my face?" Mikasa asks, a brow slightly raised.
Annie is the first to break eye contact. Her attention drifts to a pen she is flicking around her finger in quick, swift circles. "Huh?" she asks dryly, showing clear disinterest in conversing with Mikasa.
"Is something funny?" Mikasa elaborates as she flips her textbook closed.
She shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."
Mikasa holds her composure. Annie is just trying to get under her skin, and there is no point in picking a fight. Annie probably doesn't even know where she is right now, or even her own name. The girl barely even shows up to school at this point. Some things are just not worth the time.
To say she has distaste for a girl is a gross understatement. Annie is lazy, dispassionate, and cold. She has no drive for anything. Mikasa almost pities her. She was a rogue, probably wrapped up in whatever contraband Reiner and Bert could get her hooked on. Whether it's Annie playing a game or not, it's no surprise she can't answer a simple question and stand up for herself.
As Mikasa is packing her back up, Reiner and Bertholt come busting through the doors. The sweet old library lady scowls at the two scoundrels and motions them to quiet down with a wrinkly old finger pressed firmly against her lips. They can only spare her an apologetic glance as they approach Annie.
"Ready to go shorty?" Reiner teases.
Annie blows a tuff of blonde hair out of her face before standing silently. Mikasa can see her considering it, and she sees the exact moment her impulsions win over. She jams her foot down on Reiner's toe and Mikasa was certain she heard something crack. Reiner curls over and winces loudly in pain.
"Annie!" Bertholt scolds, grabbing hold of Reiner to prevent him from falling over.
"I told you not to call me that." she mutters, swinging her bag over her shoulders as she leaves the two of them behind. They trail out of the library, much to the librarian's pleasure. She looked ready to kick them out from all the ruckus, so it was good they left when they did.
Before Annie started attending USYN as a freshman, about ninety percent of her college experiences were pretty decent. Mikasa never really had any issues with anyone. Except Annie. After Annie started attending, that percentage dropped to about seventy percent.
At first, things were pretty cordial. They never really crossed paths often, unless it was through someone else, like Eren. If their relationship hadn't developed the way it did, she probably would have admitted they have a lot more in common. Mikasa can't quite recall how it even started, but she knows somewhere down the line they got off on the wrong foot. Ever since then, they've either never spoken or if they did, their interactions were short and to the point.
Mikasa glances at the clock and realises she had been in the library a lot longer than she intended. She meant to find Eren and Armin so they could grab drinks with some friends after school. She would be lying if she said it was her idea. They wanted to celebrate Mikasa's win yesterday so it's not like she had the option to opt out of it. She protested multiple times to Eren that it would be stupid for them to get wasted on a Tuesday night, but he was persistent and she didn't have the energy to argue.
When Mikasa did find her two friends, she realised two things. Firstly, how incredibly tired she was and how she was unsure exactly of how she would make it through a full night of drinks and socialising, and secondly, the fact that she learned to tune out Eren's yapping because most of the time it wasn't important. She simply slings her bag over her shoulder and looks them both up and down.
"Ready to go?" she asks.
'I'll drive!" Eren says as he walks ahead of her. Mikasa didn't really mind. She is too exhausted to drive and the headache still hasn't subsided. Thankfully, the drive is short. It only takes them ten minutes, and Mikasa looks out the window as Eren pulls into the parking lot of a large retro diner located on the side of the interstate. Cars were rushing past at high speeds and loud 80s music rang from inside the restaurant. There are the faint sounds of giggling and cups clanging.
As they enter the diner, they are greeted by a group of their friends cheering congratulations and welcoming each other. One part of the celebration is for Mikasa's first win of the academic year for Sina, the other part is a reunion of all their friends coming back from summer break.
"There's my favorite weightlifter," Jean beams, wiggling his eyebrows at an unamused Mikasa. "Hey Jean," she says, mimicking his enthusiasm as she punches him on the shoulder. He winces, rubbing the spot furiously as she walks past him.
Sasha comes running for Mikasa, leaping into a spinning hug. She barely reciprocates it, and instead her brows furrow into a single straight line. This is about the most she would let Sasha touch her, and anyone else would have been flipped on their ass. Truthfully, Sasha was her saving grace and beloved roommate of her first year of university. They managed to get quite close, and Mikasa considers her one of her closest friends.
Sasha releases her with a blooming grin.
"You did sooo good, Mika! I thought you were gonna rip your shirt from how your muscles bulged out of your sleeves!" She says excitedly, flexing her arm to prove her point.
Mikasa smiles softly, "Thanks Sasha."
More people begin to trickle into the diner, some people she recognises and others she knows from brief encounters through Eren. Mikasa gets a glass of water to ease her headache, but just as she turns around she notices Reiner and Bertholt at the entrance. Her eyes widen as Annie follows in behind them.