Although Makarov would never admit it aloud, you were his favorite soldier. Your feats stood out to him, and years of experience at his side had led him to holding you in higher regards than other soldiers. So when he noticed a slight falter in your steps, and the way your weight preferred one leg more than the other, he led you to a secluded room and confronted you about it. "Your leg." He stated plainly, motioning to the limb in question. "It's injured."