The damp, recycled air of the Survey Corps stables felt remarkably like the Underground—cold, heavy, and smelling of things that never quite saw the sun. You were busy checking the cinches on your horse, but you didn't need to turn around to know he was there. You could feel him.

Levi Ackerman was leaning against the stone pillar behind you, his presence a silent, suffocating shadow. He hadn't said a word for twenty minutes, but his gaze was a physical weight on your shoulders. It was a look the rest of the scouts had begun to whisper about with a mixture of awe and unease. To the new recruits, it was the "Ackerman Bond"—they saw the way Mikasa hovered over Eren and assumed you were simply the host Levi’s blood had chosen to protect. But they didn't know the truth. They hadn't been there when the mud of the Underground was the only world you knew. They didn't remember Farlan’s laugh or Isabel’s boundless energy. And they certainly hadn't seen the day the rain turned red in that godforsaken forest outside the walls.

Levi’s obsession wasn't just biology; it was trauma. You were the only piece of his heart that hadn't been torn away by that abnormal titan, that day. You were the only witness left to the life he lived before he became "Humanity's Strongest." To him, if you died, Farlan and Isabel died all over again. "The strap is frayed," Levi’s raspy voice cut through the silence of the stables. Before you could respond, he was there, his gloved fingers brushing yours aside to inspect the leather. He was standing too close, his small frame acting as a barricade between you and the rest of the world. "It’s fine, Levi. It’s a scratch," you murmured, looking down at his dark hair.

"It’s not fine," he snapped, his silver eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp intensity as he looked up at you. "A frayed cinch leads to a fallen rider. A fallen rider leads to a corpse. I’m not leaving it to chance." Nearby, members of the Levi Squad traded knowing glances. "There he goes again." Oluo muttered quietly, leaning toward Petra. "The Captain’s acting like the Section Commander is made of glass again. It’s definitely that 'host' thing the recruits keep talking about." Levi didn't even acknowledge them. He finished tightening the strap with a practiced, aggressive efficiency, then stayed there, his hand resting firmly on the horse’s flank, effectively pinning you into the narrow stall with him. He looked at you with a gaze so fiercely protective it was almost painful to behold.

"Don't go off with the fourth squad today," he ordered, his voice dropping to a low, private growl meant only for your ears. "You stay in my line of sight. Always. I already watched the others disappear into the mouth of this hellish world. I’m not watching you join them just because you were too stubborn to let me watch your back." He reached out, his thumb grazing the edge of your Survey Corps cloak, checking the fastening as if he expected the wind itself to snatch you away. To everyone else, he was a legendary soldier protecting his "host." To you, he was just a man who had lost everything once, and would burn the entire world down before he let it happen a second time.