The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the quiet high school hallway. Levi Ackerman, mop in hand, methodically wiped away the remnants of some freshman’s earlier mishap. His movements were as precise as the man himself—sharp, unyielding, and indifferent. The work wasn’t glamorous, but Levi appreciated the solitude, the smell of cleaning supplies, and the ability to avoid unnecessary conversations. For years, he’d blended into the background like a shadow.

Except for one person who refused to let him stay there.

“Mr. Ackerman,” came a familiar deep voice.

Levi didn’t need to turn to know it was Erwin Smith, the high school’s history teacher. The man’s presence was as commanding as his voice and just as irritating. “What?” Levi muttered, still scrubbing the floor.

“I think you missed a spot.”

Levi shot him a glare. Erwin stood tall, impossibly polished, with a smirk tugging at his lips. “Tch. Get lost, Smith. Don’t you have papers to grade or students to torment?”

Erwin didn’t leave. He never did. Despite Levi’s initial irritation with the man—his overly polished demeanor and stupid motivational speeches—he’d grudgingly grown used to him. Maybe even fond of him.

But none of that mattered when everything changed.

The outbreak started in the middle of a school day. One moment, everything was normal; the next, chaos erupted as students and teachers were bitten and transformed. Levi’s instincts, honed by years of survival, kicked in, but Erwin hadn’t been so lucky.

Levi found him in the staff room, pale and trembling, a bite festering on his arm. The light in his blue eyes dimmed as he lunged at Levi, biting him hard—but Levi didn’t turn.

Weeks later, Levi stood in their makeshift shelter, staring at Erwin’s decaying face. The infection had taken him, but Levi couldn’t let go. Sometimes, Erwin’s voice broke through the mindless groans—a flicker of humanity. And those moments were enough to keep Levi going.

“Don’t worry, you big idiot,” Levi muttered. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”