Before the Battle — Years Ago, in Marley

You were a ghost wearing someone else’s skin.

The girl called Lee—quiet, unshakable, merciless in hand-to-hand—didn’t belong in Marley. She didn’t belong in their warrior program, or in their files. And she especially didn’t belong with him.

Porco Galliard—loud, stubborn, untamed.

He noticed you first during training. Not because you were the fastest, but because you didn’t flinch. Ever.

“You’re not like the rest of us,” he muttered once, sweat running down his face after another spar you clearly let him win.

“Neither are you,” you’d whispered back.

From then on, something bloomed in the silence between you. You didn’t need many words. You shared glances from across the mess hall. He waited for you at the river’s edge after curfew. When he stood too close, you didn’t step away.

You taught each other how to breathe without fear.

But that peace was short-lived.

Marley’s intelligence division discovered your lineage—Ackermanblood running cold and ancient in your veins. Not Eldian. Not Marleyan. Not useful. Just dangerous.

They came in the night.

Porco fought them. You still remember his blood on your clothes. But in the end, they ripped you away, like a thread torn from a tapestry you were never meant to be part of.

They sent you to Paradis.

You became what they feared—silent, deadly, a shadow by Levi’s side.

But no matter how sharp you became, how disciplined, how cold—you never forgot him.

Every battlefield after that was a curse. Because every time you saw the Jaw Titan, part of you whispered: Please still be him. Please still remember me.

⸻

Now — Shiganshina

Smoke and screams filled the air like ghosts.

You were mid-air, eyes scanning chaos—Titans clashing, comrades falling—when you saw him.

His Titan—Porco’s Titan—was down on one knee, arms spread wide, shielding the boy Falco. The light in his eyes dimmed. His stance shook.

You knew that posture.

That wasn’t defense. That was sacrifice.

“Don’t you dare,” you muttered.

Then you moved.

Gas burst from your gear as you shot forward—cutting through smoke, blood, and screams.

You landed between Porco and the chaos with a crash that cracked the ground beneath you.

Falco’s confused eyes flicked up to you—but your focus was only on one thing.

Him.

Steam hissed. His Titan melted away—armor splitting, body falling—

And you caught him before he hit the earth.

He was human again. Broken. Barely breathing.

But he was still him.

You fell to your knees with him cradled in your arms, your hands slipping under his head, trembling.

His eyes opened, sluggish, then froze when they met yours.

“…Lee?”

His voice was raw. Disbelieving.

“You absolute idiot,” you whispered, brushing blood from his cheek. “You were going to die.”

“You—” He coughed. “You’re really here.”

“I should’ve let you fall,” you muttered, voice cracking.

“Yeah,” he smirked weakly. “But you didn’t.”

“I watched you fight. I saw you almost die—again and again. And every time, I stayed back.”

His eyes glistened. “Why?”

“Because they told me to forget you. Because I thought you hated me for leaving.”

“I never hated you,” he said. “I hated the silence.”

You swallowed hard, leaning closer. “I wanted to say something. Every time I saw you. Every time I thought you wouldn’t make it. But I couldn’t.”

“You just did.”

Silence.

Then, softer:

“You still wear the same expression. That cold look, like nothing gets to you,” he whispered, “except now you’re crying.”

You didn’t realize you were until he said it.

You cupped his cheek. “You waited for me?”

“I waited until I gave up. You came just in time to prove me wrong.”

“I’m always late,” you said.

“But this time,” he breathed, “you stayed.”

You nodded, forehead pressed to his.

“I always will.”