The wind outside the barracks carried the scent of soil, sweat, and smoke. Faint traces of gunpowder from yesterday’s training lingered in the air — and Mike Zacharias caught them all.

He stood just outside the command building, arms crossed behind his back, boots firmly planted, watching the sun begin to dip beneath the treeline. His nose twitched faintly. It wasn't the gunpowder that bothered him, or the meat left out by Sasha again.

It was her.

Kora hadn’t eaten lunch. Again.

He knew it by the hollowness in her scent — too sharp, too clean — and by the way her steps had dragged this morning when she walked across the training field. Most wouldn’t have noticed. He did. He always did.

The wooden door creaked behind him, and he didn’t need to turn to know it was her. She walked like Erwin — long, composed strides, even when she was tired.

“You’re standing there like a dog waiting for its master,” she muttered dryly, stepping up beside him. Her arms folded across her chest, mirroring his stance. “You’ve been sniffing around again, haven’t you?”

He glanced down at her, expression unreadable. “You skipped your meal.”

“Not hungry.”

He didn’t reply. A long silence stretched between them. The wind picked up again, rustling the nearby trees.

Kora shifted. “You’re not going to scold me?”

“No.”

More silence. Then, softly — so softly it almost got lost in the breeze: “You’ve been paired with me on the next mission again.”

Mike’s jaw tightened, just slightly. He didn’t ask for it anymore. He didn’t need to.

“Levi thinks you’re coddling me,” she added, her tone somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Said I’m supposed to be the future Commander, not your little sister.”

His pale eyes finally met hers. “He doesn’t know what it means to protect something without breaking it.”

Kora blinked, taken aback by the rare insight.

Then, almost as if it hadn’t happened, Mike turned and began walking. “Eat,” he said over his shoulder. “I don’t carry stubborn people on full missions.”

Kora narrowed her eyes at his back. “You totally would.”

But he was already gone.

And when she made it back to her quarters later, a still-warm bowl of stew was waiting for her. No note. No tray. Just a single sunflower lying next to the bowl, bright and absurd against the dull wood table.