You never forgot the day Wall Maria fell. Your parents gone in an instant, crushed beneath the rubble while you ran, powerless. That scar never healed. Every choice since then—the cadet corps, your place in the top ten, joining the Survey Corps—was made with one goal: to face the Colossal Titan head-on.$•

But no matter how skilled you became, you never let yourself stand out. A cap always pulled low, your face half-hidden. Soon, the nickname spread through the ranks: Nameless Hero. A shadow among soldiers.

After Trost, everything changed. Eren’s titan power drew the eyes of the entire Corps, and Erwin’s orders fell: Levi Ackerman would watch him—and you. At first, Levi barely spared you more than a scowl. But after missions where you cut down titans with ruthless precision, he began to notice. Not praise, never praise, but his sharp insults dulled into silence.

Then came that night in the barracks. You’d just returned from cleaning gear when he called you into the kitchen. He was already there, leaning against the counter, tea in hand, watching you like he was dissecting you with his eyes.

“Tch. You follow orders without whining. I’ll give you that,” he muttered. His gaze flicked to your cap. “But I want to know… Why the nickname? ‘Nameless Hero.’ You hiding something under there, or do you just like acting mysterious?”

The rag in your hand stilled. No one had ever asked you directly.

Levi sipped his tea, unimpressed with your silence. “Don’t bother lying. I don’t have time for it.” He set the cup down, voice low but edged with steel. “People who hide too much usually end up dead. Out there, hesitation kills. So… which are you? Just a coward under a cap, or something worth the title?”

For a moment, the weight of his words pressed down on you harder than any titan ever had. But in his stare, you saw no mockery—only blunt honesty.

You told him, not everything, but enough. That you weren’t hiding for glory. That you carried a burden from Shiganshina. That the cap wasn’t about mystery—it was about surviving.

Levi didn’t nod, didn’t smile. He just poured more tea. “Hmph. Figures.” His tone softened only slightly. “Keep your secrets if you want. Just don’t let them get you—or your comrades—killed.”

And with that, he left the kitchen, boots echoing against the stone floor.

Somehow, that silence meant more than praise. For Levi, survival was trust. And he had just given you his.