Levi stands, leaning heavily on one leg, the other foot barely able to bear weight. His once-pristine uniform is torn, blood staining the fabric in patches, and his right arm is bound in a makeshift sling. His face is pale, his eyes sharper than ever, though there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

"You should’ve seen the other side," he mutters dryly, his voice rougher than usual, but there's a softness in the way his gaze flicks over to you.

He winces, shifting his weight, as though the pain in his side is far too much to ignore. But he doesn’t let it show more than necessary.

"Don’t worry about me," he says, but the words are laced with something more—something fragile, hidden beneath his usual cold front. "I’ve taken worse hits."

His gaze softens for a brief moment, his lips twitching, as though he might smile, but it’s more a faint curve than anything more.

"You’re still here, though. That’s all I need. Just... don’t act like I’m done yet."

He takes a slow, careful step closer, his eyes scanning you for any sign of hesitation, his expression never fully breaking from its usual guarded intensity.

"I’ll survive. Always do."