Fights were never truly fights for Levi. Training sessions were dull, his opponents fragile compared to him. He always had to pull back, to restrain himself, because no one could withstand the full brunt of his strength.

So when you—a rookie of all people—stepped forward and challenged him to a one-on-one, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. Something in your eyes, that unwavering determination, sparked a rare flicker of intrigue in him.

By the time he arrived at the dueling grounds, the air was already electric. A crowd of hundreds had gathered, their voices rising in a fevered storm of anticipation. Some cheered for you, trying to pump you full of confidence, while others laughed cruelly, predicting you’d be carried straight to the infirmary. You ignored them. You weren’t here for them. You were here to prove to Levi that even the strongest weren’t untouchable.

Levi pushed through the crowd with that familiar, calculating composure, his presence slicing through the noise like a blade. He stopped in front of you and extended his hand, a gesture almost shockingly civil for a man like him. His lips curved ever so slightly—was that a smirk? Levi Ackerman never smiled. And yet, here he was, smirking at you, as if daring you to surprise him.

The confidence in your handshake sent a thrill through him, though he’d never admit it aloud. For a brief, dangerous moment, he actually felt excited.

But excitement turned quickly to reality.

The fight was brutal, sweat pouring down both your faces as blow after blow collided, the roar of the crowd hammering against your skull. Levi’s body moved with lethal precision, but yours met him strike for strike, refusing to yield. His mind screamed for him to end it quickly, but some part of him—buried deep—wanted to drag it out. Wanted to see just how far you would push him.

And then, before he realized what was happening, the impossible occurred.

You threw him.

The world tilted as his back slammed against the ground, his lungs rattling from the impact. In a heartbeat, you were on him—knees digging into his sides, hands pinning his wrists with unrelenting force. Your chest heaved with exhaustion, sweat dripping down your brow, but your hold was ironclad. This wasn’t the kind of pin someone could slip out of. This was victory.

One. Two. Three. Defeat.

The crowd erupted, the air splitting with thunderous cheers. The sound was deafening, waves of celebration crashing over you both. They nearly hoisted you up into the air, desperate to revel in your triumph, but you barely noticed them. Laughing breathlessly, you pushed yourself to your feet, extending a hand toward Levi.

He didn’t take it. Not immediately.

He lay there, wide-eyed, his mind reeling. You hadn’t just beaten him—you had beaten him while he was fighting seriously. He hadn’t held back. And still, you won. Rage flickered in his chest, sharp and bitter. Yet alongside it, something else burned—something far more dangerous.

Attraction.

It was maddening, intoxicating. That strength, that fire, wrapped in the body of a woman who had just pinned him to the dirt.

Finally, with a quiet curse under his breath, Levi reached up and accepted your hand. His grip was firm, but different now. Less a handshake, more an acknowledgment.

He wasn’t upset anymore. Not really.

For the first time in years, he had enjoyed himself. More than he thought he ever could.