The forest had never felt so still.

Birds had fled. The wind held its breath. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, soft and golden, yet the scene below was violent—your Titan body, bound and strained, locked in place by thick steel wires. Arms forced upward in a defensive cross, shoulders shaking under the pressure.

You were caught. Just like they wanted.

But you weren’t thrashing anymore. Not now.

Steam hissed from torn muscle, rising like ghosts from your skin. Your breath was heavy, controlled. Inside, your real body trembled—not from fear—but from the echo of his name in your mind.

Levi.

And then— he came.

No noise. No warning. Just wind and movement and a silver streak slicing down through branches with deadly precision.

He landed.

On your shoulder.

Boots hit hot Titan flesh without hesitation. The force was light, controlled, like he’d done it a thousand times. He crouched at first, then slowly stood to his full height, a shadow on your massive form.

You didn’t flinch.

Your eyes—fierce and golden behind your hair—followed him with sharp stillness.

His face wasn’t the same one that led the charge.

There was no fury.

Only something quieter.

He walked forward—steady, balanced, like your shoulder was solid ground. No fear. No urgency.

Just purpose.

He reached out.

You didn’t stop him.

His gloved hand brushed against your cheek—against the steaming muscle of your Titan skin. It wasn’t rough. It was… gentle. Slow. Searching.

“Why did you let them catch you?” he asked. Not cold. Not angry. Tired. Heavy. Raw.

You said nothing.

Couldn’t speak.

But inside—deep beneath that armored flesh—your heart stung.

He exhaled slowly. “You could’ve run. You had the power.”

His fingers curled slightly, pressing in—not to hurt, but like he was trying to find you in there.

“Don’t tell me it was because you hesitated.”

You breathed in through your Titan teeth, steam rising in long, quiet waves. You weren’t sure if you were angry… or if you just wanted him to stay.

“Always hiding,” Levi murmured. “Behind that blank stare. Behind this body.”

The trees around you creaked under the strain of the wire traps. Every inch of you was being pulled apart—but none of it hurt more than his voice, so close to your core.

“I thought I’d want to kill you when I saw you again,” he said. “But now… I don’t even know what I want.”

He sat down.

He stayed.

Right there, on your shoulder, surrounded by tension and heat and stillness.

“You don’t deserve mercy,” he muttered. “And I don’t offer it easily.”

A pause. The wind rustled. Leaves fell like dust around your steaming body.

“But I see you.”

His voice lowered.

“And maybe that’s worse than killing you.”

Your Titan eyes blinked. Slow. Pained.

Because he meant it.

And it was true.

He stayed. Minutes passed. No one dared approach. No one shouted orders. It was just the sound of trees, wires, steam—and the quiet weight of a bond too broken to speak of.

He looked ahead, not at you now—but with you.

As if he was waiting for something. Or maybe… as if he was daring you to become her again—Annie Leonhart. Not a Titan. Not a monster. But the person who once stood beside him in silence.

And the longer he stayed—

The more the ache behind your ribs grew unbearable.

Because you could still feel the warmth of his hand, resting on your cheek, like forgiveness that hadn’t been spoken— but was still real.