It was a simple enough task, one he didn't expect to get this far. She was really the only one that could match him in sparring but he didn't take into account that he was getting older and she was in the prime of life.

He parried a blow from her and his fist connected with her shoulder eliciting a quiet humph from her. Her leg came for him, seeking the muscle of his calf in an effort to weaken his stance, but he was faster than her by a hairs width and shifted on his feet to avoid her kick. Unexpectedly he felt the sting of a sharp elbow connect with his nose and for the smallest moment he froze, not for the pain of it but rather the momentary surprise that he didn't see it coming. Taking advantage of the split second surprise her strong arm propelled her fist into his ribs and a breath of air escaped his lungs and out his mouth without consent.

This wasn't sparring. This had become a fight.

His eyes narrowed as she stepped back, fist raised to protect herself, and he assessed her. She was solid, every movement she made stretching taut the sinewy muscle that made up her body. He had never seen a woman carry that much muscle but somehow it seemed expected of her, as if she was a titan in human form. He grit his teeth as her eyes focused on his, watching him silently and without any hint of her thoughts. Part of him wanted to walk away, let her stand there in whatever hell she was sinking into, but for some reason he couldn't understand, he would not back down.

Her eyes flashed for a brief moment as he advanced, poised for attack but not giving away his strategy until the moment his foot connected with her head, knocking her off balance. She grunted once but recovered quickly, landing a explosive blow to his thigh and pushing him back an inch. White spots popped in his eyes and he blinked them away, thrusting his knee into her stomach, connecting hard enough that his knee cap would be bruised. She fell around his leg, half draped across his thigh and half struggling to regain her balance and he didn't expect her to have an angle of attack from that position but almost immediately she flung her arm back, muscles tight, and struck him solidly in his throat, his adams apple taking a brutal hit. Righting herself and planting her feet she took control, moving faster than he'd ever seen her, attempting to kick his feet out from under while landing solid punches to his side. He didn't wince but knew he'd feel it later and stumbled back, somehow keeping himself standing.

His eyes flashed when he was the sudden look of rawness in her eyes. His blood become warm, pumping through his body as his eyes darkened and narrowed on her. He was getting dangerously close to stepping beyond his control, something he'd never done when sparring or even training, keeping it tightly reserved for battle. When she stepped forward, aggressive and prepared to meet him blow to blow, his pupils blew wide.

The savage part of him snapped and without hesitation he was upon her, backing her into the wall with all his strength, striking blow after blow, arm under her chin across her neck, hand gripping her collarbone so viciously he can feel the bone bending under his fingers.

This wasn't Mikasa. This wasn't human. This was everyone, everything he'd been fighting against for the seemingly forever years of his life. Every blow, every kick he inflicted in blind rage against this body was washed in memory of hate, of loss, of anger. His assault didn't slow but rather became stronger, more intense. He could feel the body pinned to the wall, absorbing his madness, trying to fight back, trying to block him but he was too far gone and his strength could not be overcome when he was like this.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he could hear his official title being called, trying to break through the blindness, but he didn't recognize it. His body only tensed and strained more, unrelenting as he struck and struck.

"Levi!"

He blinked, vision still a blur and his mind a black cauldron. He hesitated.

"Levi!"

His name came again, a desperate choked sound far away from him. His arm froze.

"Levi."

It was spoken softly this time, quiet and broken, as if it was carrying a weight it shouldn't bear. He blinked his eyes rapidly, his vision slowly coming into focus as his body released the tension it had been in and his blood slowly became less hot, less fast in his veins. He shook his head once, twice, trying to clear the fog, and opened his eyes.

He held Mikasa against the wall, forearm shoved against her neck, hand curled around her collar bone, crushing it beneath his fingers. Her eyes were closed, tears streaming down her face in an uncharacteristic show of pain, her feet off the floor from his shoving and assault. His pupils narrowed as he took in the black, blue, and yellow bruising that colored her body from neck to waist. There wasn't an area left uncovered from his attack.

Horrified, he whipped his arm away from her neck and stepped back. She fell to the floor, landing with a soft thud as her body crumpled and curved into itself, head hanging as she gasped for air.

His breath came heavy as he stared at her, his body winding down and unversed emotions coming in waves. He looked at his hands, back to her, and to his body.

"Mikasa…"

It was half spoken and he wasn't even sure he said it because she didn't look up at him. Taking a step back, he didn't know what he would do if she did look at him. Feeling like his soul was deteriorating, he took two more steps backward before turning around and walking away, the only thing he could do.

He sipped his tea, staring blankly into space, as everyone started trickling in for breakfast. He hadn't slept last night - nothing new there - but this time it wasn't because of his insomnia. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her body pinned up against the wall, tears streaming down her face, her bruised and battered body. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his brain to push the image away and unsure how to address it. It would become a beast of its own if he didn't find someway to deal with it. But the burning image in his mind made it nearly impossible to know what to do.

Releasing his grip, he lowered his hand and was met with the sight of Mikasa walking into the dining room. He watched her intently but she never looked at him. She didn't show any sign of the injuries he knew she had. She simply quietly poured herself a cup of tea and sat silently at the table, eyes focused elsewhere.

He was as impressed with her resiliency as he was shaken by his behavior.

He didn't approach her. She didn't meet his eyes. The day moved like any other day, filled with cleaning, meal preparations, and training. He kept an eye on her during training to see if she faltered but she hid well behind her strength, just like she hid her bruises behind layers of clothing she didn't normally wear for training.

As night descended and regular evening events came to a close, he silently cursed himself for not just going to her. The more he delayed the more it would become a conversation he dreaded. Staring out his window at the moon, he let himself walk down a path he'd refused to go to during the day.

Why?

He'd never once lost control in training or sparring before, not even with Mikasa. What had ignited the fire this time? He didn't know and that worried him more than anything. If he couldn't trust himself he was in trouble, the whole unit was in trouble. He was the Captain and he needed to be in control. He tried to recall anything that might have triggered him, something unique, but nothing came to mind. It was an even battle once it ceased to be simple sparring, both meeting each other with precision and tactical knowledge. He hadn't done anything he hadn't before and neither did Mikasa. She was always confident, strong, and able. Her training and knowledge was improving, as it should, so therefore her sparring became more adept.

Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face. He simply didn't know and that concerned him. Dropping his hand, he noticed a figure moving around the outside of the training center and stables. It was small but steady, sturdy, familiar. His eyebrow notched upward slightly as he watched her lean against the wood barricade surrounding the grounds, her red muffler stirring in the light breeze. It was past curfew and he would be well within his right to reprimand her but as he silently watched her tilt her head upward, presumed to be staring at the sky, he just didn't have it in him. Instead, he turned away from the scene to sit in his chair, eyes tired but body awake.

It was going to be another long night.