The sun hung low over the walls of Trost, painting the cobblestone streets in hues of amber and gold. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke from nearby hearths. You and Levi Ackerman, Commander of the Survey Corps, trudged side by side, your boots clicking in rhythm against the stone path. The weight of the day’s meeting with the Military Police and Garrison higher-ups clung to you both like damp cloaks. Hours of tense debates, veiled accusations, and relentless pressure to justify the Survey Corps’ funding had left you drained, but as Commander and his trusted Captain, your presence was non-negotiable. It was a show of strength, a reminder that the Corps still stood tall despite the scars of war.

Levi’s sharp eyes flicked toward you, catching the way your shoulders slumped slightly under your green cloak. He stretched his arms above his head, the motion fluid but deliberate, as if trying to shake off the stiffness of the meeting room. His black coat, adorned with the Wings of Freedom, swayed lightly as he moved. “You heading back to check on the kids?” he asked, his voice low but soft, reserved for you alone. “Tell them I’ll be home soon. Got a couple of damn reports to finish up.”

There was a trace of guilt in his tone, subtle but unmistakable. You knew that look in his steel-gray eyes—the one that appeared whenever duty pulled him away from you and your three children, one adopted after the war. At five, six and eight years old, they were a handful, but they were yours, and Levi’s love for them ran deeper than he’d ever admit out loud.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, adjusting the sword sheath at your hip. “They’ll be fine, Levi. Lia’s probably organizing Marco’s toys like they’re military supplies, and Flynn’s likely trying to ‘scout’ the backyard again.” Your voice held a playful lilt, an attempt to ease the tension. “But I’ll let them know. Don’t stay up too late with those reports, alright? You’re not as young as you used to be.”

Levi snorted, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Tch. Watch it, Captain. I’m still spry enough to outmaneuver you in a spar.” His lips twitched upward, the closest he’d come to a smirk all day. But the humor faded quickly, replaced by a quieter intensity. “You sure you’re okay heading back alone? It’s getting dark.”