As for Attack on Titan, I had only watched the first season. I knew nothing about how the later story unfolded. Still, based on what I remembered, I could determine one crucial detail.
This was at least a year before the main plot began.
Mikasa Ackerman's mother was still alive.
In the episode often referred to as "Mikasa's Memories," both of her parents were murdered by human traffickers. Mikasa herself was abducted and later rescued by Eren Yeager, after which she was taken in by the Yeager family. None of that had happened yet.
That meant I still had time.
At present, I needed to accomplish two things.
First, I needed a legal identity inside the Walls. Without documentation or proof of origin, I could easily be treated as a vagrant and expelled beyond the Walls. While I doubted it would come to that, I could not afford to rely on doubt.
Second, I needed a stable way to survive in this world. The most immediate option was obvious.
If Mikasa's family adopted me, everything would fall into place.
I had two advantages. I was physically ten years old, which made it difficult for most adults to turn me away. And I shared the same black hair and eyes as Mikasa's family. I had already implied that I was of the same eastern heritage. That similarity increased the likelihood that her mother would sympathize with me.
The real challenge was execution.
This required careful words and measured emotion.
After estimating how long I had been unconscious, I opened my eyes and slowly sat up, deliberately letting my gaze drift as though confused. Feigning partial memory loss would allow me to avoid questions I could not answer.
A moment later, Mikasa's mother entered the room.
She looked surprised to see me awake, but her expression softened quickly.
"You're awake, Jax."
I blinked as though returning to my senses. "Hello, Auntie. Where am I?"
My voice came out hoarse. My throat felt dry.
"You're in my home. It's safe here," she replied gently.
She stepped closer and reached out to touch my head. My instincts told me to pull away, but I forced myself to remain still. She hesitated briefly at my reflex, then continued and lightly stroked my hair.
"I'll get you some water."
I nodded. She returned moments later with a wooden cup.
I accepted it with both hands, drank slowly, then handed it back. She placed it on the bedside table and sat down beside me.
"Jax," she asked softly, "where is your family?"
I lowered my eyes.
"I don't remember my parents very well. Grandpa told me they left when I was small. They said they would search for a way back to our homeland and return for us, but they never did. When I was eight, Grandpa passed away. Since then, I have been alone."
I kept my head down as I spoke, careful not to reveal too much emotion or too little.
She rested her hand gently on my head again.
"You poor child."
Her voice carried genuine sympathy, and for a brief moment, guilt pricked at me.
"My name is Yato Ackerman," she said. "I am of eastern heritage as well. Do you have anywhere else to go?"
I shook my head.
She studied me in silence for a few seconds.
"Then would you like to stay here?"
I looked up, allowing a flicker of disbelief to cross my face.
"Stay? With you?"
"Yes," she said with a small smile. "People of the same heritage should support one another."
For a moment, I could not speak.
The plan had worked.