The audacity of this man.
Breaking into your room, only to steal your most valuable possession and replace it with a shitty note leading you down into the woods at 11 PM, when the stars cast the only light guiding you. Is that the first thing he thought of doing upon returning from that mission? Still, you shouldn't be surprised. They call him the strongest, not the smartest.
Upon approaching the familiar clearing, you see him. Levi, sitting casually on the same high branch he had demonstrated his maneuvering skills, the red armband lazily spins around his finger.
"You have something that belongs to me," you call out, hoping to maintain your composure.
"I thought I was crazy to assume you care about a tissue fabric," he says without even looking at you. "Guess I was wrong." Your heart pounds, not with fear this time.
"You might outrank me," you begin calmly, your anger threatening to spill out, "but if you don't give that back, I'll get it my way, consequences be damned."
He looks down at you before raising his arms innocently. "Do you see me stopping you? If you want it, you're free to come and get it," he replies, his voice not betraying any hint of jest.
Fuck it.
You're way past reasoning. In a flash, you strap on the gear, and with a sudden yet instinctive motion, you fire the hooks, feeling them catch the branch securely. The gear propels you upwards, and for a fleeting moment, you're nothing but adrenaline fueled by a singular focus; Retrieving what is yours.
A thud is heard when you land, and snatch the armband from Levi's outstretched hand. It's only then when you clutch it tightly, that you dare to glance down. The ground below sways in a dance, and your heart lurches into your throat. Fear, like a long-forgotten ghost, whispers through your veins again.
"Get me down from here," you choke out.
"Alright," he answers with that unreadable expression of his, but blinded by fear, you pay no attention to it. You should have. Because as soon as he extends his arms, tricking you into a sense of security that he'll help you, he pushes you without warning.
For a split second, your scream is lost in the rush of wind. You don't have time to think. Instinct, honed by necessity, kicks in. The gear is activated instantly, the hooks finding another anchor while swinging you in a wide arc. As you do your best to control the descent, the world spins around a blur of green and brown, landing roughly on the forest floor.
"Are you insane?!", you bellow.
He glares down at you, "Maybe."
"You could've killed me, you reckless shit," you spit. Perhaps insulting the captain isn't a great idea, but as a leader yourself, you know as much that endangering soldiers isn't a part of protocol either.
"Fear loses its power when you confront it directly," he explains, unaffected by your outburst. "If you're scared to fall then fall and trust yourself enough to get back up."
Your infuriation slowly subsides before you decide to try something.
Without a word, this time with an unfamiliar measure of control you didn't have before, you soar through the air and stand beside him. The ground below is no longer a terrifying abyss. It's just ground.
"You knew I'd be able to do it?", you blurt out as you gradually come to terms with his questionable, but effective methods.
That fear had you shackled for years and he set you free. Not any Marleyan instructor. Not Zeke. Him. A devil cloaked in green.
"I had a feeling you would," he watches you intently. "Besides, if your reaction time turned out to be shit, I would've caught you in time."
"Right," you fiddle around with your armband, remembering all Petra and Oruo ever talk about. "Humanity's strongest they call you."
"Tch," he scoffs. "Titles are only labels idiots use to simplify complexities they can't understand."
Any other's ego would be inflated by that title. Bizarrely, when you look for some acknowledgment or any flicker of pride, you find none. You might as well add that to the list of the things you don't understand about this island.
The silence that follows is thick, only punctuated by the rustle of leaves in the night wind. His gaze wanders off to the stars. You shift uncomfortably so as to not block his view, unsure of what to do next. Should you just leave, and head back to the training corps quarters? His lack of direction is leaving you in limbo.
"Do you come here a lot?", you question, well aware of the oddness of his location at this time. You expected someone of his rank to be engrossed in paperwork.
"Every night," he answers.
Not fully understanding your following action, you find yourself settling down on the branch opposite him. He doesn't object. The limb is broad enough that you can comfortably shift and turn without tumbling off. "Why?"
"I like to have some quiet," his eyes are still fixed on the infinite expanse above.
"Right. You're not really a people person," you affirm thinking back on the numerous times Oruo tried to bust a conversation and went back to his seat without having uttered a word.
"I don't bite," he defends. "It's not my fault they're pussies."
"Sure, they should make an effort," you agree. "But have you considered that maybe you hold a part of responsibility? People may not approach you because of how... stiff you come off."
His gaze dips to meet yours, an eyebrow raised in question. "Stiff?"
It sounds like he lacks self-awareness too.
"Yeah, you know," you gesture vaguely, racking your brain for the right words. "You always have this glare, like you're sizing them up."
He seems to consider your insight before slightly shrugging, "I can't change to make others comfortable."
"But don't you think it's a bit of a vicious cycle?" you press on. "You're distant, so people keep their distance, and then you end up alone with your quiet, which only makes you more distant."
"They why are you talking to me?", he immediately counters, catching you so off guard that your mouth opens without a word out.
"Well, I..." you falter. "I guess I'm not put off by... whatever this is."
Though, quite frankly, the reason you're presently conversing and even bonding with the enemy is imperceptible. Petra is too consumed by her belief in the inherent goodness of people to pose any real threat. Oruo, for his part, lacks in perception. Levi Ackerman is not like them. He could see through your mask if you slipped.
But you're curious, nonetheless.
His expression is impassive, "You think you've got me figured out?"
"Not at all," you admit honestly. "But everyone has their reasons for being who they are. I'm just trying to understand yours."
"Don't." He advises. "It's a waste of energy. Erwin can vouch."
He might be a wall but every wall has its cracks and maybe, one day, you'll see them and use them to your advantage.
Silence falls once more and he quickly fills the void with a question you suspect he was already planning to ask. "Why's that thing important to you?" He nudges his head toward the armband sticking out of your pocket."
You look down at it. "It's a reminder of what I'm fighting for."
He tilts his head to the side. "Which is?"
You hesitate at his question. You're acutely aware of the delicate line you walk as a mole.
"The world, I guess," you respond, your words intentionally vague yet laden with a deeper meaning only you understand.
He scrutinizes your answer and responds with a slight nod, an indication that you are on the same page. However, you aren't because while you both fight for a world free from fear, your definitions of that world are poles apart.
The conversation lulls into a comfortable silence instead of an awkward one this time. The night wraps around you like a blanket as you bring your knees to your chest. You're both lost in your thoughts. The irony of it all, here you are, under the same stars, momentarily connected yet your destinies are on a collision course.
After a while, you stand up, your movements silent. "I should probably head back."
He doesn't stop you when you utilize your newly acquired skill to zoom out of view.
The following months take on an alternate pace. Thanks to the captain's harsh yet effective training, you not only master the ODM gear but excel in it, which Shadis acknowledges under evaluations. To make things even better, your skills aren't the only things flourishing.
Communication with the warriors persists through coded letters. They carry no plans whatsoever, due to the risk of falling into the wrong hands, but they are enough assurance that we're all still alive. Hopefully, you'll see them in person as soon as you're out of here. But they aren't the only ones who write to you.
Several nights a week, you find a familiar piece of paper tucked under your pillow. "Forest. -L," the same message every time. It began as an invitation for training. Now, it appears the word 'training' has long lost its literal meaning. On the branch, high above, you both would sit, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. Words aren't always necessary; the presence is enough. You learn to read the silence between his words, and he, in turn, listens to the unsaid in yours.
One night, you're about to press your gear's trigger when you stop. "Levi?" You're facing away from him but there's no doubt you've captured his attention by addressing him by his name for the first time. "Thank you. For that push off the tree months ago. I needed that."
Glancing over your shoulder, his eyes are fully on you. "Yeah," he blurts. "You know where to find me if you need that again."
A quiet laugh escapes your mouth and you wish you could say it's forced.
Soon, you'd have to go beyond this forest. As graduation approaches, so is the inevitability of the choices you will soon have to make. But here and now, you can coexist, even if it's built on a foundation of hidden agendas and half-truths.