Between two worlds

by Angie296

Mizuki ends up inside the walls without remembering where she came from. All she knows is that she does not belong to that world, and that she wants to return home. To do so, she has no choice but to rely on the Survey Corps, and on her golden eyes capable of tinging the color of blood, inherited from her father, the last descendant of the Uchiha clan. Levi X OC

24. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: And I wanna tell you who I am. Can you help me be a man? They can't break me, as long as I know who I am - part 1

I'm still here - John Rzeznik

The crackling fire in the stone fireplace cast intricate orange and reddish arabesques on the hazel wood walls of the room, along with long, wavering shadows.

It was late July, and yet, during the night, in that remote valley nestled between the mountains of the Southern District, close to Wall Sina, a damp mist would descend, seeping into the bones and chilling every breath. Only inside a room with barred doors and windows and a blazing brazier constantly fed, could one find refuge in a warm and bearable environment; it was far worse for those on guard duty, a task that fell to Historia and Loki that evening.

Eren, Mikasa, and Armin sat at the long table in the room, covered with a spotless and perfectly ironed tablecloth. Meanwhile, Connie, Sasha, and Jean were huddled on the floor in front of the fireplace, tossing in, at irregular intervals, the logs Mikasa had chopped that very morning. Jacqueline, curled up on one of the windowsills, was meticulously brushing her long blonde hair. Lavinia, sunk deep into the couch with a file in hand, would occasionally cast a disdainful glance at the ex noble and shake her head before burying herself back in her reading.

The kids seemed uneasy. They conversed in fits and starts, only to suddenly fall silent, staring in a trance at the tightly shut kitchen door.

"Listen…" Jean suddenly blurted out, unable to bear the eerie silence coming from the kitchen any longer. "Maybe we should go check out what's going on in there."

"And who's going to do it? You?" Sasha teased, elbowing him in the stomach.

"What? No, why me…?"

"Yeah, Jean's a coward. Mikasa's the only one who can handle it," Connie declared, smirking at the girl in question.

"What did you just say?!"

Mikasa turned towards the kitchen doorway. "It has been quiet for a while, actually."

"For real, guys! What's with you? What's all the whispering about?" Jacqueline tossed her brush full of hair onto the couch, earning a look of pure disgust from Lavinia, who promptly scooted onto the armrest. The former duchess stretched lazily, then stood up and strode to the center of the room with her hands on her hips, fully embracing her self-appointed role as the caretaker of a bunch of lost children. She had found playing the part amusing from the start and still hadn't get tired of it.

"Uh, well, you see, Miss Tennison…" Armin stammered, in whom Jacqueline, with her uninhibited way, instilled a deep awe.. "We're worried about Vice-Captain Mizuki. She's been in there with Captain Levi for almost two hours now, and, you know… When he arrived, with that whole tree incident, he was really mad at her… We're afraid that… that…"

"That he's bullying her!" Jean interjected, slamming a fist on the floor.

"Oh!" Jacqueline waved a hand dismissively. "It's really quite sweet that you're worried about her, but I assure you, there's no need. Mizuki is just fine."

To cover up the grumbling of her perpetually hungry stomach, Sasha had sprawled out on her stomach. Propping her chin up with her interlocked fingers, she observed: "But Captain Levi totally seems like the type who'd bully someone".

Jacqueline threw her head back and burst into loud laughter. "Bully? Him? Mizuki? Honestly, it's much more likely to be the other way around!"

The group received this reassurance with highly skeptical expressions.

"Actually, now that I think about it, Miss Tennison might have a point," Eren said, his tone pensive. "When we were at the old Headquarters, even though they didn't talk much, I got the impression that, deep down, they got along… Even if I can't explain why I feel that way."

Because you're still just a kid, sweetheart, Jacqueline thought, fully in character as their guardian.

Jean let out a sharp, sarcastic scoff. "Here we go again, the suicidal maniac begins with his ridiculous theories. Alright then, tell us: if Captain Levi isn't bullying Mizuki, what exactly are they doing in there?"

Hopefully, fucking like animals.

But that was a thought that caretaker Tennison could never voice out loud.

"How the hell should I know, Jean? If you're so curious, why don't you go check for yourself?"

"Yeah, right, Eren. Like Jean would ever have the guts to do that."

"Connie, you again?! How dare you?!"

"Ahhh! All this talk about the kitchen is making me hungry."

"You say that like you ever stop thinking about food, Potato Girl!"

"...!"

"...!"

.

Unfortunately for Levi, Jacqueline's hopes were entirely unfounded.

He and Mizuki had locked themselves in the kitchen right after dinner. The captain had updated her on the latest developments with his usual precision and even more conciseness than usual: the "forced" declaration of security for Wall Rose, Nile Dok's obsessive surveillance of the Survey Corps' movements, the suspicions surrounding Jacqueline, Theo's custody, Pixis' alcoholism, and Erwin's awakening. He had tried to get through it quickly because, for once in his life, after work, there was an activity he looked forward to with both frenzy and anticipation, one he believed he had postponed for far too long, partly due to his own ineptitude, partly due to external circumstances beyond his control.

Once he had finished, it was Mizuki's turn to talk. And from the moment she started, she hadn't stopped talking. Not for a single damn second.

She seemed determined to share every minute of the week they had spent apart, leaving out not even the most insignificant detail. Leaning against the counter, standing, her hands animatedly gesticulating in the air to emphasize the most important parts of each episode, Mizuki recounted the idle and peaceful days spent in the mountain refuge; how, little by little, she had tried to approach and earn the acceptance of the recruits, wary and suspicious after the betrayals they had suffered; how, one by one, she had managed to gain their trust, a result she was particularly proud of, as evidenced by her sparkling eyes and frantic fingers.

Aside from Eren, whose sympathy and respect she had won from their first meeting at the training camp, at the start of their cohabitation, the other recruits had maintained a demeanor of polite yet glacial coldness towards her. They addressed her with the deference befitting a superior but kept their distance, most likely due to the revelation of Mizuki's place of origin.

Far from being discouraged, she had doubled her efforts to deepen her relationship with each of them. These kids - she could feel it - were lost, confused, overwhelmed by the wave of events that had shaken the world, many of which were directly linked to people very close to them or even to themselves. They needed someone by their side to confide in: someone older than them, whom they could perceive as a safe and reliable support, but not yet an adult, otherwise, they would see them as too distant and incapable of understanding the turmoil of a young, passionate soul.

Mizuki was ready to take on that role. In part, she suspected that one of the reasons Erwin had appointed her as Levi's vice-captain was precisely that.

Once she threw herself into it with all her heart and soul, her mission turned out to be easier than she had expected: one by one, with varying degrees of resistance, all of the recruits succumbed to her natural charm.

The easiest to win over, unexpectedly, was Mikasa Ackerman. Once she had verified a few key details - that Mizuki was not a rival in her well-known yet unspoken love; that her professed intent to protect the giant-boy at all costs was sincere; that Eren trusted her like an older sister, with no romantic implications whatsoever - Mikasa silently granted her full approval. Furthermore, she insisted that the vice-captain train her, openly declaring her intention to learn the techniques Mizuki had used in her fight against the Armored Titan.

Armin, on the other hand, opened up to Mizuki immediately. With his keen sense of observation, he quickly noticed the similarities between himself and Mizuki; in particular, what truly broke down his barriers was the vice-captain's love and passion for books. Mizuki had read as many, if not more, than he had, and Armin adored chasing her around just to discuss them, much like she had once done with Hange and Erwin through the corridors of Headquarters. Slowly, Armin also began to share with Mizuki his fears about humanity's future, his sense of inferiority and inadequacy compared to his stronger comrades, and the insecurities that darkened his thoughts. Mizuki listened intently, trying to instill some courage in him and offer useful advice to help him fight his demons. And that alone was enough to make Armin feel a little less alone.

With Connie, too, Mizuki's main role was that of a listener. The fate of his family and the investigations carried out by the Survey Corps - which he had been informed about and, in the final phases, had even participated in - made him restless and tormented him. More than once, at night, while standing by the window of the hall to breathe in some fresh air, Mizuki had spotted Connie slumped on the outer steps. Silently, she would join him and sit by his side. During those moments, a flood of words would spill from Connie's mouth; he would let himself go completely, crying, complaining, even daring to ask for comfort. And Mizuki provided it, offering him a shoulder to bury his wet eyes in, ears ready to listen to his confessions, a soul willing to share his burdens.

Sasha, the most carefree and lively of the group, was plagued by a single, terrible, and - at least for her - insurmountable affliction: a perpetually hungry stomach. After yet another theft of the shared rations, which was met with outbursts and accusations from her companions, Mizuki took the girl for a walk in the woods. At first, Sasha denied any involvement in the disappearance of the bread; then, she admitted her guilt but dismissed it by lamenting the uncontrollable and voracious hunger that had complicated her life since childhood.

The vice-captain, then, told her that, long ago, her father had been forced to live in hiding and, during times when supplies were scarce, he had survived by roasting and eating insects. Many years later, he had even praised their nutritional value to his daughter, who was fussy at mealtimes; one evening, instead of red meat and vegetables, she had been served skewers of insects on her plate. Mizuki challenged Sasha to try them, and unexpectedly, the recruit accepted - though her grimace of skepticism betrayed her doubts. Without a word - neither complaint nor praise - Sasha devoured the skewers Mizuki managed to put together. From that day on, however, the thefts from the pantry decreased, and Sasha would occasionally disappear for hours into the woods, only to return with a satisfied expression, licking her lips and winking at Mizuki, who would turn away and pretend not to understand.

When Mizuki shared her father's stories about the edibility of insects with Sasha, she hadn't intended to provide her with a new food source; her goal had simply been to provoke a sense of disgust - the same one she had felt as a child when she was presented with that plate, which, of course, she had not touched - strong enough to silence her hunger. In any case, that experience earned her Sasha's absolute loyalty.

The two most difficult prey to catch were Historia and Jean.

Historia openly avoided her: she didn't harbor any ill will towards the vice-captain, but rather was convinced that after the altercation on the walls Mizuki didn't have a high opinion of her. As a child who had never been loved and, as a teenager, had devised a strategy of impersonating the perfect girl - kind, beautiful, gentle, accommodating, selfless, and so on - just to gain the affection of others, Historia didn't even consider the possibility of being liked by Mizuki. She believed the other merely tolerated her out of duty, following the commander's orders and out of necessity.

Even Mizuki, usually indifferent to such subtleties, had realized the misunderstanding Historia had fallen into. So, one afternoon, she made sure to corner the girl by recruiting her for a vaguely defined paired task to be completed in the kitchen. After turning the entire room upside down - pulling out pots, pans, bowls, and cutlery from the cupboards, claiming they all needed to be reorganized in preparation for the captain's arrival - while they waded through teetering piles of copper and steel, Mizuki broke the silence and asked Historia how she was feeling after being separated from Ymir.

Caught off guard, Historia needed a few moments to come up with a response that was both truthful and coherent. "I... I'm angry at her for leaving me and… sad," she stammered.

Mizuki nodded, carefully placing a pot on top of an already unstable stack. "I understand. I understand now and I understood then, too, back on the walls; but my duties at that moment were different, and they prevented me from addressing the problem with you."

"Of course! I... I get it. Obviously, in your position, you couldn't waste time on a girl throwing a tantrum…"

"I didn't say that," Mizuki corrected her. "I wanted to be there for you then, and I still do now... that is, if you ever feel the need to talk. Unless you're mad at me."

That comment only confused Historia even more. "I..." She cleared her throat and shook her head dejectedly. "I'm not mad at you, but at myself. I wasn't able to do anything for Ymir… neither stop her nor go back to get her." The girl sighed in resignation. "If you had been in my place, vice-captain… you would have gone back for your friend, wouldn't you?"

Mizuki narrowed her eyes slightly. Lying would have been pointless and unfair to the girl who was opening up to her. "Yes."

"That's because you're strong! I, on the other hand…" Historia suddenly lit up. "I know! Maybe you could train me. I heard that Mikasa asked you too. If you did, I could become strong, and…"

"No," Mizuki interrupted her gently.

Afraid she had overstepped, Historia flinched and instinctively withdrew, like a child scalded by hot iron after being warned not to touch it.

Sensing her hesitation, Mizuki leaned forward and ruffled her hair to reassure her. "Contrary to what most people believe, 'strength' is a concept that can take many different forms. There's physical strength, the most obvious one that comes to mind when people talk about it; the strength of intellect; the strength of eloquence; the strength of knowledge; the strength of beauty; the strength of observation; the strength that comes from social status; economic strength… There are countless forms that strength can take, and no single one is superior to the others."

Mizuki shifted positions, stretching out her stiff legs in front of her and rubbing her thighs to get the blood flowing again.

"I believe everyone should find the type of strength that suits them best, the one that allows them to protect themselves and the people they love, without trying to imitate others or chase an ideal they've created in their own mind." Mizuki took one look at Historia's slender frame and delicate features. "Your strength certainly isn't brute force, and I don't want you convincing yourself otherwise. That's why I won't train you. You still have to find your own path, and that's okay. You're only fifteen… At fifteen, I knew nothing about the world!"

A small lie, she thought, should be allowed. At fifteen, unfortunately for her, Mizuki had already lived through an experience that had shaped her personality and forever changed the way she saw reality.

"Until that time comes, the captain, myself, and the others will take care of you all. Alright?" Mizuki winked and extended her hand, which Historia timidly took.

The girl lowered her head; her thin, glossy blonde hair slipped in front of her flushed cheeks."Yes…"

"Good. In the meantime, we should probably put these pots back." Mizuki gave a playful flick to the most precarious tower, which wobbled before collapsing to the ground with an earsplitting crash.

"Oops!"

Loki burst into the room, startled, paled at the mess his companion had made, and immediately started shouting furiously.

Historia burst into laughter. It was the first time she had done so since returning from the expedition.

Despite having spent the entire afternoon cleaning up the wrecked kitchen, Mizuki walked away from that encounter feeling victorious and satisfied.

The toughest one of all was Jean Kirstein. Naturally distrustful and cynical, the boy didn't even try to hide his suspicions about Mizuki and Loki; on the contrary, he seemed to never miss an opportunity to emphasize how little he trusted their loyalty.

One night, he and Mizuki ended up standing guard together. It was rare for such a circumstance to occur: normally, the "adults" - meaning Loki and Mizuki - tried to cover the night watch. More often than not, Jacqueline would keep them company during the middle hours of the night to prevent them from dozing off. That evening, however, Loki was more exhausted than usual, and Jacqueline was running a slight fever, so the usual shifts had been disrupted.

During the first, freezing hour of stillness, Mizuki and Jean remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, yawning, the boy remarked, "Man, this is tough. I haven't stood night guard since training! I don't know how you and Shindo do it… You barely sleep, and by the time we wake up in the morning, you're already up giving orders. I'd be totally wrecked the next day!"

"It's fine. I don't sleep much anyway," Mizuki replied serenely, her tone pragmatic.

Jean stared at her, surprised. "Why…" he began to ask, then abruptly stopped.

He already knew the answer.

During the rescue mission, Amado Kizuki's blood had splattered across his face.

Suddenly, he noticed the details of Mizuki's appearance that, for some reason, he had failed to see until now: the deep dark circles around her eyes, her pale and sickly complexion, the tense expression trying to mask her unease behind a smile; her fingers drumming nervously on the rifle stock; her darting pupils, never resting on the same object for more than an instant. He remembered that she was only four years older than them. And yet, how old, how strong, how invincible she had always seemed to him! Perhaps because that was exactly how she had wanted the recruits to perceive her, to gift them the sweet and illusory belief that they were safe.

And yet, that image of an invincible soldier clashed ridiculously with the real Mizuki beside him, leaning against the palisade, rifle slung over her shoulder, hood pulled low over her face.

As Jean, prodded by an annoying sense of guilt, searched for something to say, Mizuki whispered, "Your friend's name was Marco, right?" Then, sensing the boy's discomfort, she quickly added, "Armin told me about him. I remember meeting him at the training camp. He was that tall guy with freckles."

"Yes…" Jean said, averting his gaze, his heart twisting at the memory. "Yeah, his name was Marco."

"I see." Mizuki tilted her head slightly, a curly lock slipping in front of her face. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Jean held his breath.

No one had ever said those words to him before. And he had found it normal. That was just how the world inside the walls worked: they were soldiers, and an all-out war against the Titans was underway, after all; people died by the dozens, and they had to get used to it.

Convinced as he was of all those reasonable considerations, Jean had never realized how much he needed to hear words of acknowledgment for Marco's death: words spoken by someone who had suffered a similar wound; words whispered by someone who understood.

Jean lowered his head and turned his back to Mizuki. She made no comment, respecting his clumsy attempt to hide the hot, angry tears streaking down his cheeks, but she didn't move away either; and the vice-captain's quiet presence made that moment of weakness more bearable for Jean.

Thus, the recruits grew attached to Mizuki, and she grew attached to them.

During the day, in their breaks, Mizuki entertained them, as she liked to say, showing off her extraordinary skills; in the evenings, sitting in a circle around the fireplace, she would tell them about her childhood, her family, and the place she came from. The recruits listened, captivated, asking questions and demanding clarifications, dreaming of a world not infested with Titans, where people could walk on walls and breathe fire.

Through it all, Loki watched Mizuki's antics with resignation, and more than once she caught him whispering to one of the recruits, "If she gets too annoying, just tell her to fuck off."

Mizuki recounted her exploits to Levi with passion. She spoke quickly, excited and happy; as was her habit, she would start a story and, inspired by a detail, open a parenthesis to better clarify an event without ever closing it; she circled around the focal point of the tale without ever hitting it, made unnecessary connections between facts, got tangled up, carried out deep reflections on each recruit's personality, vividly described insignificant incidents, and repeated phrases, expressions, and conversations that had caught her imagination.

It was a rambling speech, nearly two hours long, yet, in its own way, wonderful for the passion it was imbued with.

Even though Levi was dying to kiss her before one of the recruits or Jacqueline knocked on the door to check whether they were dead or simply to bother them, he let her talk and, in the meantime, he partially satisfied his awakened senses by greedily drinking in the sight of Mizuki, now that he could finally observe her undisturbed, fully and rightfully.

He took in, from a safe distance, the image of the girl leaning with her hips against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the wooden surface, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gleaming. Mizuki wore dark, soft pants that barely hinted at her slim waist and hips; her white shirt, with the top buttons undone, revealed the faint outline of her sternum, and was tucked into her belt. From her rolled-up sleeves, smooth forearms and slender wrists peeked out. It was her usual attire when she wasn't wearing her uniform; and yet, to Levi, it was incomprehensibly suggestive and provocative.

The captain's gaze lingered on her succulent, well-shaped, moist lips.

How much he wanted them… How perfect it would be to silence her with a kiss…

"It's like we've all become one big family, you know?" Mizuki concluded with a shrug, putting an end to a conversation that had lasted nearly two hours.

"So you spoiled them, basically," Levi grunted. Seated at the kitchen table, he had one arm draped over the backrest and the other stretched out along the table; he flexed his hand to get the blood flowing again, as the long stillness had slowed his circulation.

"No way! I just… I tried to help them. Those kids have been through hell and back: Trost, the expedition, deaths, betrayals from their own comrades, and everything else. It's a relief for them to be able to spend a few days in peace and quiet. I want them to know they can count on me… on us," Mizuki corrected herself, flashing a small smile and making a circular gesture with her hand, as if to emphasize that the responsibility of looking after the brats was a shared one. "We are their superiors, after all."

Levi knew that bond was just as important - if not more - to Mizuki herself, to keep from falling apart, so he chose not to press the issue and changed the subject. "Speaking of betrayals… is it true that the Armored Titan saved your ass during the battle?"

Levi's harsh question dropped between them, shattering the previous balance.

Mizuki tilted her head slightly, studying the captain with curiosity, trying to figure out the source of his sudden and inexplicable bad mood. It was a futile effort: she could never guess, considering she had no idea that Levi was jealous of Reiner Braun. "Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Levi's scowl deepened.

Mizuki pushed away from the kitchen counter and, with graceful steps, moved to sit in the chair next to his. "From what Eren told me, Reiner Braun probably suffered from a severe case of split personality. The immense weight of his actions and their consequences threw him into a deep crisis: Reiner was an enemy, no doubt about that; but while he hid among the recruits of the 104th, he genuinely bonded with them. The guilt was tearing him apart, so to keep from losing his mind, his brain created a second personality - the one convinced he was a real soldier - to help him cope with reality. I believe it was that part of him that saved me, even though I was an enemy who had just attacked him. The same thing happened with Connie at Utgard Castle, apparently."

Levi's face was filled with skepticism, but he didn't pursue the conversation further. Now that she was so close, the effort required to concentrate on anything other than her lips was so absorbing that he didn't have much energy left to formulate meaningful sentences or be jealous.

"How's your leg?" Mizuki asked, leaning slightly towards him.

Instinctively, Levi stretched out the injured limb. "Not bad."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you like being a pain in the ass."

Mizuki's lips curled into a smile; Levi watched them move as if her mouth were the only real thing in the room and everything else was just an illusion. He wondered if she, too, was struggling to concentrate, distracted by his lips…

"Yeah, that too," Mizuki conceded. "But mostly because I care about you and I know you're unreliable when it comes to your own health. Tomorrow, I'll examine you and decide what to do. Until then, the absolute no-strain rule still applies."

Clearly, she was not struggling.

"Don't get cocky just because you got promoted."

Mizuki merely shrugged, her sly smile widening. "This whole rank thing is a load of bullshit."

"Ohi…"

"It's the truth! For starters, my salary is staying exactly the same until my promotion gets approved by Zackley, and I can forget about that happening anytime soon, given the current circumstances. The only things that have increased are my chances of getting killed and the workload!" Mizuki huffed, feigning exasperation. She placed her hand on the table and absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the wooden surface. "Who would've thought report meetings could last so long?"

Resisting the impulse to grab her hand roughly, Levi commented, "They never took this long with Eld. He talked way less than you."

"Oh, I'm sure. I also think Eld was far less interesting to look at than I am," she shot back, completely unfazed by Levi's jab and making it clear that she was only too aware of the meticulous study to which the captain had subjected her.

"Tsk. You're spending too much time with Tennison."

Mizuki simply smiled in response and shifted her fingers just a fraction closer to his, until they barely brushed.

A shiver ran through both of them.

"You know," Mizuki murmured softly, glancing up at him through her blonde lashes, "I'm glad you're here."

And in a flash, Levi understood that she, too, had been thinking about their kiss, about the fact that they were alone in the kitchen; that she, too, had peeked at his lips from afar, consumed by desire.

"Captain," she whispered, her voice so faint it was barely audible. "Maybe we should…"

Without realizing it, they had both leaned in, their mouths drawn together, to capture that moment they had both longed for since they had set foot in the kitchen.

But just as they were about to touch, the kitchen door burst open.

Mizuki and Levi reacted promptly as if on the battlefield: she sprang to her feet, putting a step of distance between her and the table; he merely straightened his back, given that his leg was still under strict no-strain orders, and he wanted to avoid another one of the brat's relentless lectures.

Connie shot into the room like a bolt of lightning, dashed straight for Mizuki, and grabbed onto her waist, using her as a shield. "Mizuki, protect me!"

Behind him, Jean and Sasha entered.

The first, visibly irritated, hissed, "Get over here, you coward!" Despite the menacing way he advanced towards Connie, however, Jean stopped at a safe distance from Mizuki, since he was all too aware of her skill in knocking people flat on their asses.

"Come on, Jean! Make him pay!" Sasha followed the two, urging Jean to take revenge on Connie, looking like she was having a great time.

From the next room, Jacqueline's sarcastic laughter rang out. "Sorry, dear officers of the Special Operations Squad! I tried to keep them out so they wouldn't interrupt your very important meeting, but I failed!" she called out, emphasizing the words very important meeting with mischievous amusement.

"Ouch. A fight between children? What happened…?" Mizuki laughed, amused. She ran her hand through Connie's sparse hair; his head, attached to her waist as he was, peeked out at the girl's pelvis.

"Connie has…" Jean started whining, but he cut himself off the moment Levi came into view, having stood up with a dark expression.

"I see that discipline in this house is as lacking as cleanliness."

"Come on, behave yourselves, or I'll be the one who gets in trouble." Mizuki wrapped her arms around Connie's shoulders. "Time for bed."

"Yeah, but don't leave me, please! Otherwise, he'll kill me!"

"I'll escort you to bed and tuck you in, don't worry," she reassured him, cheerful and confident, heading towards the door and extending an arm to keep Sasha and Jean at bay.

As soon as the remaining people in the room saw that Miss Mizuki was safe and sound, they let out a sigh of relief and, whispering so as not to irritate Captain Levi, made their way up the stairs to their bedrooms alongside Jacqueline. Lavinia, on the other hand, had already retired for the night. After turning off the lamp on the desk, Mizuki waited at the foot of the staircase for the entire flock to return to the fold, nudging Sasha, Connie, and Jean - who was still growling at his mate - in the same direction with encouraging pats on the shoulder.

She herself hopped lightly up the first few steps.

All Levi could do was let his burning gaze, which howled to the world his desire remained unsatisfied once again, slide over her waist and the muscular curve of her ass, which, as she moved, stretched the fabric of her trousers. He sighed, exasperated, then placed his hand on the banister to climb the stairs without straining his damn knee.

Captain. Maybe we should…

What an enviable nerve she had.

Maybe we should… what?

Talk about it? Forget it? Pretend nothing happened?

Do it again? And do what? The kiss?

Go further, perhaps…?

Mizuki suddenly stopped halfway up the stairs. "Ah! How absentminded of me!" she exclaimed, as if she had just realized she had left a pot of milk boiling on the stove. "Go on ahead, guys," she said, waving her hand at the three recruits, who, caught up in their bickering, had already stopped paying attention to her. "The captain and I will catch up with you…"

Sasha, Connie, and Jean reached the landing and took the second flight of stairs, disappearing from their superiors' sight.

The silence that settled over the wooden house was so absolute it almost had a physical presence. The only sounds audible for miles were the voices and footsteps of the kids upstairs, the wind whistling faintly through the valley, and the creaking of the wooden planks swollen with humidity. In the thick darkness that blanketed the room, further deepened by the dying fire that barely cast light on its surroundings, it was hard to distinguish the outlines of objects and people.

Yet Levi distinctly recognized Mizuki's silhouette as she rushed down the stairs and threw her arms around his neck. She pulled him close, and from her higher position, kissed him with fervor.

It was a passionate kiss, violent, almost angry. Almost immediately, Mizuki forced his mouth open, and her tongue invaded his. The dance she dragged him into was erratic: she explored the inside of his mouth without order, roaming wildly and brushing against everything in its path, his tongue, his teeth, his palate, his gums. It seemed as if her goal was to possess his mouth within just a minute, to imprint its shape, with all its imperfections and secrets, into her tongue and mind.

Just as he had let her talk for almost two hours without interrupting, Levi didn't resist her now either. He simply grabbed her by the waist and pulled her even closer because, as tightly as they were pressed together, it still wasn't enough.

Mizuki abruptly tore herself away from him. "I forgot to tell you," she announced loudly, trying in vain to steady her ragged breathing. Levi could feel the hurried puffs of air escaping her parted lips against his skin, proof that she had pulled back just enough to speak freely. "That you have a private room."

Once again, Mizuki leaned in to kiss him, greedy, demanding. This time, she wasn't satisfied with just the frantic clash of their mouths. She took his lips between her teeth, sucked, nibbled repeatedly, until the delicate skin tore, and the taste of iron flooded Levi's mouth.

"I had Eren prepare it. I know he meets your cleaning standards," Mizuki panted after forcibly tearing herself away from him again, maintaining the pretense of a casual conversation meant solely for the benefit of the house's other inhabitants, who, in all likelihood, couldn't care less where she and Levi had disappeared to.

Because of the darkness, Levi couldn't see the features he knew by heart, but he imagined them filled with urgency, with the same burning desire he had already seen in them. That thought, along with the heat of Mizuki's body, was enough to arouse him: blood rushed to his lower abdomen in an instant and the fabric of his pants tightened uncomfortably over his erection, popping up in a place and time that were damned inappropriate.

Levi let his hand slide down Mizuki's back, tracing the curve of her spine and forcing himself not to deviate from the path, no matter how much he was tempted by the shapes hinted at beneath her shirt. His fingers skimmed her face, almost hesitantly caressing her, recognizing the dip of her nose, the straight bridge, the slightly pronounced cheekbones, the hollow of her eyes from excessive thinness, the proportioned forehead, and the flushed cheeks.

Mizuki ran the tip of her tongue over the wound at the corner of his mouth, licking away the tiny droplets of blood that beaded up, then pressed a featherlight kiss there, as if to apologize for tormenting him.

"What's wrong, sunshine? I thought we were supposed to pick up where we left off," the girl whispered, her lips pressed against his.

Levi, who had surrendered to her assault without the slightest resistance, clicked his tongue just before pushing it forcefully into Mizuki's mouth, tearing a moan of approval from her. "I would have, but you talk too much."

"You're the one who's too shy. You've been staring at me, drooling, for two hours!"

"You little brat."

"Boo-hoo…"

"I stand by what I said, you spend too much time with Tennison."

Levi felt her smile spreading under his lips. "Maybe. Jacqueline has taught me a lot this past week… Are you sure you don't want a practical demonstration?"

They spoke in hushed voices, embracing in the darkness, drinking in each other's words directly from their mouths. Levi wasn't well acquainted with happiness; however, he was certain that the feeling of having a muffled mind, a light stomach, warm hands, a racing heart, and the secret desire to stop time had a lot to do with it.

Mizuki yanked at his hair to tilt his head and kissed him again, this time, with more care, but pouring the same intensity into the act as when she had assailed him at the beginning. No matter how long their intimate contact lasted, her hunger for the captain's mouth and body showed no sign of waning.

A footstep sounded above their heads, too close to the stairwell for them to remain indifferent.

Mizuki cleared her throat and raised her voice. "Your room is on the second floor, next to the girls'," she declared, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief.

Yes, the effects of her time spent with Tennison were definitely starting to show in all their problematic nature

She stole one last, swift kiss; before pulling away, she brushed the tip of her nose against Levi's, like a cat rubbing its face against a human's to mark them with its scent or show affection.

"Goodnight, sunshine."

"Goodnight, brat."

Mizuki ran up the steps in a flash. Before disappearing from sight, she stopped on the landing and, illuminated by the moonlight that, emerging from behind the clouds, penetrated through the window, she gave him one last knowing look.

Levi remained at the foot of the stairs, aroused and dazed, already anticipating a sleepless and restless night, but for far more pleasant reasons than usual.

The glint he had seen in Mizuki's eyes, her provocative words, haunted him until dawn. Sitting at the desk in his room, he stared at the right-side wall, beyond which the women of the group were sleeping in their beds.

Was that what she had meant with that look? That he should think about the fact that she was lying just on the other side of that wall?

Several times, he felt the urge to get up and knock his knuckles against it. Would she be able to stifle her laughter on the other side, or would he hear it even from here?

In the end, he did it. He walked over to the wall and stood there, frowning at it. He waited, but the silence remained undisturbed.

Feeling like an idiot - and certain that Mizuki was laughing to herself on the other side, pleased at having manipulated him so effortlessly - he clicked his tongue, cursed his own weakness of spirit, and returned to his desk.

And yet, soon enough, his attention was drawn back to that bare wall.

He felt it with searing clarity.

Between them, there could have been dozens, hundreds, thousands of walls, towering and stretching to the sky, and still he would always turn his gaze in the direction where she told him she would be.

.

OOO

.

July 850

For the occupants of the cabin in the mountains, the last days of an eventful June slipped by lazily and monotonously; it was such a stark and ironic contrast to the adventures of the past weeks that would have made them laugh if only the future didn't look so grim for the Survey Corps.

The days dragged on uneventfully: they lived and waited for Hange, still detained in Trost to assist the recovering Erwin, to reach them with instructions on their next moves. The hours of daylight and warmth were dedicated to training and domestic chores that could be done outdoors. Evening fell early, bringing with it a faint, almost pleasant chill; at the first signs of darkness, the objects left outside - the brooms, the buckets with rags, the knives for peeling potatoes, the axes, the cups from afternoon tea - were hastily gathered, and the group retreated indoors.

The recruits, in particular, loved that fixed, unchanging routine, that transition between light and night when they rushed to take shelter within four wooden walls, when they huddled around the crackling fire with a cup of tea to warm themselves, when they listened in rapture to stories of an unknown world, its blurred outlines taking shape in their minds through Mizuki's words. Those habits gave them the illusion of normalcy, an illusion that had been brutally torn from them on the day of the Trost attack; and as they crawled into their sleeping bags laid out on the hard wooden slats of their beds, they could even dare to hope that their upended lives were slowly but surely falling back into place.

For now, the adults did not shatter the illusion the recruits were clinging to. Soon enough, the Central Government and the Military Police would do that for them, waking them abruptly from their sweet dream.

Historia repeated the sad story of her life to Levi: her childhood spent on a farm, kept at a distance by her grandparents and the farmhands, ignored by her mother; her mother's sudden abandonment; the appearance of a man who introduced himself as her father and, on that occasion, the cold-blooded murder of her mother by a man with a merciless gaze; the change of identity and her enlistment in the military, the only path Historia felt was left to make her existence somewhat useful.

Mizuki persisted in her goal of winning the recruits over. Every day, she took on the role of the relentless trainer for Mikasa and Eren, to whom the adults had decided to give additional lessons in the hope of preventing future kidnappings; the wise confidante of Historia and the silent confidante of Jean; the shoulder Connie could cry on; the literary discussion partner for Armin; Sasha's partner-in-crime in her endless attempts to fill her stomach. She was constantly engaged, dividing her time fairly so that none of her protégés would feel lonely or neglected. She skillfully acknowledged each one's needs; she adapted her attitude depending on the companion, showing she had grasped their personalities, peculiarities, and flaws; she navigated quarrels and bad moods with expertise, ensuring that peace was restored before nightfall.

Despite her role as both guide and friend to the younger ones taking up most of her time, Mizuki always made sure to carve out a little space for "the adults," as she jokingly called them, implicitly excluding herself from the category.

Loki worried her. He drifted through the cabin like a shadow that had escaped from the underworld by mistake and returned to the realm of the living; his vacant eyes wandered, unfocused, seemingly uninterested in the reality surrounding him. Like Lavinia, Mizuki had also noticed that he drank, and often, when passing by a room that should have been empty, she would hear the muffled sounds of bitter sobbing behind the closed door. In those moments, she would slip inside and sit beside him; without a word, Loki would pull her into a tight embrace, nearly suffocating her.

The enforced stillness of waiting, which the recruits found so comforting, acted on him like a deadly poison: forced to confront Amado's overwhelming absence, his willpower had crumbled; the endless repetition of days and activities identical to the last wore on his nerves. Loki needed to throw himself into action, to take down an enemy - any enemy - to give meaning to his survival. That was the only cure for his unease, the only way he could look at his own reflection in the mirror without feeling the urge to shatter it.

Jacqueline, on the other hand, adored the intrigue she had found herself caught up in. When she and Mizuki sat in the shade of a tree after lunch to digest, the ex duchess would endlessly theorize about what might happen next in the world beyond the walls, try to guess the identity of their enemies, mock the unfortunate Nile Dok, weave elaborate plots and even more improbable endings.

Moreover, for some incomprehensible reason, the fact that she was officially suspected of her father's murder and wanted by the police thrilled her. And when a breathless messenger sent by Hange brought the news that the investigation had extended to the Survey Corps soldier Mizuki Onizuka, Jacqueline was over the moon. In her opinion, if Erwin couldn't find a way to prove their innocence, she and Mizuki would have no choice but to become a ruthless duo of outlaws, one whose specialty, she insisted on clarifying, would be robbing only the wealthy elite who built their fortunes on the backs of the people.

Meanwhile, Clayton Tennison remained bedridden at the Karanes hospital under a false name; thanks to the care of Dr. Trevis, a man who had unexpectedly proven loyal to the Survey Corps, he was recovering quickly from his burns. Since regaining consciousness, he had insisted on turning himself in to the authorities, who still listed him as missing, and giving a testimony that would clear his sister of all accusations.

Hange and Erwin had dissuaded him: the situation within the walls was still too chaotic, and their enemies too determined to dismantle the Survey Corps for them to place any trust in the justice system; it would be all too easy to make a troublesome testimony disappear - one that attested to Jacqueline and Mizuki's innocence - and immediately after, the person who gave it. For now, it was advisable for Clayton Tennison to keep a low profile, at least until they could be sure that his words would be heard and judged fairly.

In addition to this, an official letter was delivered to the Survey Corps Headquarters in Trost, addressed to Mizuki as a person "whose birth records appear not only uncertain but subject to false attestations," "who, during the last expedition beyond the walls, engaged in conduct not in accordance with the Military Regulations approved by the Military Council on December 2, 843, such as the use of technology involving electricity and fire," and "who, for the reasons stated above, is summoned by the King on the indicated date to Mitras for a formal meeting with executive members, in order to clarify her position and allow the competent authorities to take the appropriate measures." It was Nifa who handed her the letter, along with the rest of the correspondence that had accumulated in Trost under her name. The pompous language of the text amused Mizuki so much that she slipped the summons between the pages of her diary to reread it in moments of discouragement.

Lavinia never failed to express her discontent over Mizuki's endless commitments, especially when they involved Levi or Jacqueline. However, after making a few sharp remarks, she ended up yielding to her friend's charm, as always: she would sigh, shake her head, and, grumbling, accept the meager scraps of time that Mizuki was able to spare her. For the first few minutes, she would try to remain cold and distant, but Mizuki's energy would melt her resolve; Lavinia would relax and, with her heart momentarily at peace, bask in her company.

And then there was Levi. ✦ Mizuki still hadn't grown accustomed to him or to their new relationship; if she were completely honest, she feared she never would. Every morning, when she saw him after their separation for the night, her heart pounded an overwhelming, almost painful symphony against her ribcage; she barely managed to tear her gaze away from his back as he busied himself in the kitchen or the common room, just enough to maintain appearances as best she could. Before him, she had liked things, places, people, moments; but she had never believed it was humanly possible to feel such an intense attraction for another person without being utterly consumed by it. A mere body was inadequate to contain, without exploding, an emotion as violent, as tempestuous, as vivid as the one she felt when, upon entering a room, her eyes fell upon the unmistakable figure of the captain; a force that, just when Mizuki convinced herself it had reached its peak, would suddenly intensify, robbing her of breath and giving her a taste of the terrible and sweet death by excess of love.

Levi was the only one for whom she would set aside her packed schedule as an older sister; the only one for whom she would abandon training sessions with Mikasa or Eren, conversations with Armin and Sasha, meetings with Jean, Connie, and Historia.

If he had so much as given her a sign and Mizuki shivered at the realization of how much power that man had over her, without even having claimed it - she would have locked herself away with him in his room, followed him into the forest for hours, days, entire weeks.

But the captain never demanded anything of the sort from her. Quite the opposite.

The day after his arrival at the refuge, as soon as they were alone, Levi halted Mizuki's assault and informed her bluntly that he had no intention of "rushing."

"What is this supposed to mean?" she snapped, her fingers attempting to slip beneath his shirt through the gaps between the buttons.

He caught her wrists, stopping her intrusion, and met Mizuki's accusatory gaze without flinching. "It means" he said, "I don't want to be on high alert even while I'm fucking. I don't want to have to stop in the middle while we're having sex, pull my pants back on, and have you hide under the bed or behind a curtain because some brat is climbing the stairs or knocking at the door."

Struck by the crude image Levi had just painted, Mizuki lowered her head as blood rushed to her face, flushing her cheeks. It was strange: she was ready to strip him completely and stand bare before him, embracing all that would come without regret or hesitation; yet the idea of discussing it openly embarrassed her to no end, making her act like a kid on her first day of school: with her hands on Levi's chest, she lowered her gaze, stumbled over words, blushed, tapped her foot against the floor.

With actions, she was bold and daring; with words and thoughts, she was as timid as an old-fashioned bride on her wedding night. A contradiction she couldn't comprehend, one that drove Levi utterly insane with desire.

The captain took her by the waist and pulled her into an embrace, encouraging her to rest her chin on his shoulder. He brought his lips close to Mizuki's ear, the same ear he had often tugged on to scold her for an impertinent remark or a prank that had crossed the line of decency. "I don't want to ruin that moment with haste, like I almost did during the expedition," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, sighed in frustration and longing, then rested his own chin on Mizuki's shoulder. "I don't want to ruin it for me, and especially not for you."

Mizuki pulled back slightly. She cupped his face in her hands, pressed her forehead against his, half-closed her eyes, and let her long blonde lashes tickle his cheek. "You could never ruin it," she said awkwardly, half to convince him and half because she truly believed it.

In any case, there was no changing Levi's mind. He remained steadfast in his decision to block every attempt Mizuki made to go further.

Despite this stance, however, he was far from made of ice: the captain very willingly indulged in gestures that did not involve the removal of clothing or the contact of bare skin against bare skin, pushing himself to the very limits of his self-control.

As soon as possible, in that small two-story wooden house, which would have been cramped for a family of four and was inhabited by three times as many people, Levi and Mizuki would retreat to a temporarily empty room, a secluded corner behind the door, or against the outer wall of the back garden when the sun dipped behind the mountain peaks, casting a cold shadow over the valley that drove the others inside, to the warmth of the fireplace.

They held each other tightly, pressing their bodies together, tense with excitement, hindered by their clothes, by uncomfortable positions, by the fear of being discovered. They exchanged long kisses, their tongues clashing for dominance, though even defeat was sweet and welcome; they caught their breath without breaking apart, eager to make the most of the little time stolen from the common life, to fully immerse themselves in their passion.

Levi's hands roamed over Mizuki's body, tracing its shape over the fabric like a tailor assessing the quality of a cloth, satisfied with what he felt; after he had explored enough, his fingers disappeared into her thick, curly hair, like a baker's hands sink into a perfectly kneaded dough.

Mizuki surrendered to him and followed her instincts. Wherever it told her to go, to touch, to inhale, to bite, to taste, to listen, to feel, she obeyed. At last, she could give shape to Levi's body, which she already knew by heart from having watched and dreamed of it for so long; at last, she could feel the firm ridges of his abdomen and chest shifting under his shirt, the strength of his arms wrapped around her, the warmth of his neck and lips between her teeth, the taste of his breath from his perpetually sullen mouth, the roughness of his calloused palm, the heat at the nape of his neck, the smoothness of his sleek, shining hair.

His unwavering restraint frustrated her; her flesh, ignited by teasing and innocent caresses, demanded the real fulfillment he stubbornly denied her. What Levi allowed her was never enough; the little he gave her only made her crave more.

Even though Levi had made it clear he would not cross a certain line, Mizuki refused to give up: she devised countless tricks to make him lose control and sweep away the boundaries he had painstakingly set.

But the captain was unyielding: he buttoned up the shirt that she had secretly unbuttoned, distracting him with a fiery kiss; he pushed away the hand that, creeping along his thigh, aimed for the bulge in his pants; he categorically refused to let her into his room and arranged the night guard shifts or firewood collection in the forest so that they were never alone together.

When Mizuki, spurred on by Jacqueline's probing questions and her own mounting frustration, finally confessed that all they had done was kiss and rub against each other, fully clothed, Jacqueline frowned. Without hesitation, she stormed into the captain's room, barging in without knocking, and barely had time to exclaim: "So, Captain! I didn't realize the problem was that you can't get it up! You should've said so right away! Tons of men have that issue, and there are great remedies for…" before he threw her out amid her loud, cackling laughter.

Aside from riling up Mizuki and fueling Jacqueline's teasing, Levi's efforts achieved, to his immense relief, positive results: none of the younger soldiers noticed the wholly improper nature of their superiors' relationship.

To be fair, even if they had caught them embracing behind a door, the recruits likely wouldn't have suspected the truth; instead, they would have assumed it was just another bizarre method Captain Levi had devised to discipline his unruly second-in-command. The way Mizuki and Levi behaved was as far from that of a couple as one could imagine. She challenged and provoked him incessantly; he, already strict with everyone, was particularly severe with her, never letting even the smallest mistake slide. However, the kids had to admit that Jacqueline was right: Mizuki was constantly being scolded and seemed to enjoy exasperating Levi, yet by the end of the day, she was the only one who could placate him, the only one to whom the captain, after much grumbling, always gave in.

Mizuki only found time for herself at night.

She always insisted on being assigned the second watch shift, from three to seven in the morning, the worst one, as it forced whoever took it to wake up and leave the warmth of their sleeping bag. When she was paired with one of the kids, she never woke them, or if they managed to rouse themselves on their own, she gently ushered them back to bed with reassuring words. More often than not, she succeeded: she slipped out the door alone, wrapped tightly in her cloak; alone, she made her way to the platform; alone, she climbed the creaking wooden steps, damp from rain and humidity; alone, she braced herself for endless hours of freezing surveillance.

Alone; finally, alone.

Even someone like her, who found meaning in life in something outside herself, in others she wanted to care for, had an urgent need for solitude.

As her crimson eyes lazily scanned the forest's edge and the silver grass glowed under the full moon, Mizuki's soul folded in on itself, turning towards a past not so distant.

Shadows with edges far too sharp came to visit her, pulling her into the stormy waters of memory and guilt.

Dita Neiss; Petra, Eld, Oluo, Gunther, Mike, Nanaba, Lynne; Gelgar; Amado…

After the parade of the dead and the regrets came the procession of the living.

Mizuki flexed her frozen, swollen fingers, sniffled her red, runny nose, and reflected on the three traitors hidden within the 104th Training Corps.

The Female Titan, the Colossal Titan, the Armored Titan.

At first, she had tried to adopt Eren's perspective: to think of them as something other than human, as monsters, as Titans.

But soon, she had to admit the futility of such an attempt.

Whatever their true nature, she perceived them and would always perceive them as human.

And so: Annie Leonhart, Bertholdt Hoover, Reiner Braun.

After hearing the kids' account of the heated exchange with Berthold Hoover during the battle, Mizuki was relieved that she hadn't run Annie Leonhart through when she'd had the chance. Reconstructing exactly what had happened and the words that had been spoken hadn't been easy: Jean and Connie's version rang with anger and betrayed trust; Mikasa's carried a resignation that bordered on indifference, since for her, anyone who threatened Eren automatically became an enemy beyond appeal; the only balanced and objective account came from Armin, who faithfully reported Berthold's words and described his demeanor without adding any personal interpretations.

One particular detail recounted by the blond boy caught Mizuki's attention.

With a voice broken by violent emotion, Berthold Hoover had shouted: "Please, someone… I'm begging you, someone… find us…"; and then again: "Someone has to do it. Someone… has to get this blood on their hands".

After the battle in the forest of giant trees and the slaughter of dozens of men, Annie Leonhart, instead, had cried; cornered in Stohess, she had resorted to an emergency measure just to save herself, and before the crystal swallowed her completely, she had whispered the word "Dad…"

And then, Reiner…

Reiner and the secrets he had taken with him as he fled; Reiner and the part of him that had saved her despite being an enemy; Reiner and the mother he could not return to before completing his mission. Mizuki knew a thing or two about complicated relationships with parents, about tragic family destinies that corrupted their children's lives, about blood ties that distorted one's perception of reality, about expectations that poisoned choices.

Why had those three infiltrated inside the walls? Why had they broken down the gates? Why had they tried to kidnap Eren? Why had they killed hundreds of people?

Why, if they suffered like dogs?

Why did someone have to dirty their hands with blood?

Under the clear, starry sky, already tinged with the soft colors of dawn, Mizuki kept asking herself these and other questions. However, no matter how many sleepless nights she spent analyzing the facts and searching for answers, she never found one that satisfied her.

.

OOO

.

With an impatient huff, Mizuki pressed herself against the building at the edge of the cobbled street to dodge a cart, hurtling by at a speed far greater than what was advisable in a populated area. The wheels splashed mud all over her pants and cloak.

Great. Now the captain would make a fuss just about letting her inside the house, let alone getting anywhere near him.

Without even trying to clean herself, she resumed walking briskly. She was in a hurry to retrieve her horse and return to the hideout. Mizuki had tied her trusty Ronnie in a clearing beneath a steep cliff, which she had climbed using chakra, to avoid drawing the curiosity of the village's prying inhabitants.

It was definitely not her lucky day. Nothing had gone smoothly.

That morning, to their dismay - and to Levi's utmost horror and disgust - they had discovered that a rat had burrowed a nest into one of the beams and, during the night, had raided the pantry and, much worse, Mizuki's stockpile of medicine. By afternoon, they were expecting Hange's long-delayed arrival, who would most likely bring orders from Erwin, meaning their period of peace and quiet was about to end. They would have to get to work, make plans, fight, risk their lives.

By then, as the group's medic, Mizuki wanted to be prepared. That was why she had hastily gotten ready and set off for the village, about two hours away on horseback. A sad, wretched cluster of dilapidated houses, home to weary and distrustful farmers who understood only one language: money.

If everything had gone smoothly, she would have been back before Hange's scheduled arrival.

But it hadn't. One setback followed another: a sudden, violent downpour, a fallen tree blocking the road and forcing her to take a detour, the long and exhausting haggling with the village grocer, a stingy and insufferable little man. After finally besting her opponent, Mizuki, already embarrassingly late, had started sprinting through the village's desolate streets, heading towards the forest with her precious bundle of ingredients in her satchel, when the reckless cart had forced her against the wall.

She had barely taken two steps, still irritated, when someone yanked her wrist.

Mizuki spun around instantly, a kunai drawn and hidden within the folds of her cloak.

The bleary, dull eyes of a red-haired farm boy met Mizuki's cold, sharp gaze.

"Miss Anisuka?" he asked, almost impatiently.

"Onizuka," she instinctively corrected. With a swift motion, she freed her wrist from the boy's grip and stepped back. He made no move to stop her.

"Yes, Onizuka. I have a message for you." The boy held out a folded piece of paper. Mizuki hesitated to take it.

"A message for me?" she finally said, grasping it between two fingers as if it might explode at any moment. "And from whom…?"

But the boy had already turned away and, crossing the street, slipped into a side alley.

Staring in astonishment at the note, Mizuki unfolded it.

"Dear Miss Onizuka, hoping to find you well despite recent events, I am writing to inform you of a delicate matter concerning the enemies of the Survey Corps. The Central Government is not only tracking Eren Jaeger and Historia Reiss but also Miss Lavinia Williams. I implore you to protect her. Soon, very soon, I have faith that I will be able to meet you and hear from you the continuation of the story that haunts me so. Ever your devoted, A. Wilinski."

Mizuki's vision blurred. For an endless moment, everything went black, as if the mud kicked up by the cart had splattered into her eyes. She had to lean against the wall with her side to keep from collapsing.

Wilinski?

When she had almost stopped thinking about him and had lost all hope of making him pay for his sins, Wilinski reappeared just like that, as if nothing had happened?

Was it really him? Was it plausible that, after more than a year of deadly silence, he would resurface in such a manner? Was someone trying to deceive her?

No, impossible. Only he and she knew about the little book and the task the man had entrusted to Mizuki.

And then, the most extraordinary detail of all…

Mizuki reread the brief message, her gaze lingering on Lavinia's name.

What did she have to do with Eren and Historia? She, who, like Mizuki and Loki, came from the outside world? Why did the Central Government want to get their hands on her?

There was something she was missing, something that nagged at her like an invisible, razor-thin splinter lodged in the palm of her hand. If only she could isolate that "something", Mizuki was certain she would be able to shed light on many of the dark points surrounding Wilinski and the secret of the world that Duke Tennison had raved about. But that something darted through her confused mind, flattening itself into some unknown recess of her memory, and she just couldn't grasp it.

Mizuki straightened her back.

She would have the entire journey back to sift through her thoughts and make her suppositions, but now she needed to move.

Not just because Hange was waiting for her at the hideout.

If their enemies were really targeting Lavinia, she had no intention of staying away from her friend a moment longer.

.

The men of the Graf Corporation - hired by the First Interior Squad of the Military Police to keep an eye on the eastern side of the mountain, while Reeves' men watched the west - lost track of the mysterious and suspicious traveler as soon as she left the sparse and desolate village. They tailed her to a cliff that, not far from the town, dropped for miles into nothingness; there, the girl suddenly vanished, as if swallowed by the dense vegetation clinging to the rock face.

Defeated, they stationed themselves once more at the edge of the settlement, hoping that their companions, from whom they had split off, would have better luck.

That day, another mysterious traveler had arrived in the forgotten village: after instructing a local boy to deliver a message to the girl who later disappeared into thin air, he had hurried away, pursued by two men from the Graf Corporation.

.

When Mizuki dismounted from Ronnie, breathless, she shoved the reins into Sasha's hands and headed straight for the entrance; on the threshold of the hideout, she ran into Levi, who was coming towards her. She was already about to hand him the crumpled piece of paper, tormented during the turbulent ride, but the captain didn't even allow her to utter a single syllable.

"It's a damn mess," he told her, as brisk and direct as ever. "Father Nick is dead."

Mizuki froze in place. "What?"

"He was tortured and killed by the First Interior Squad."

"The First Interior Squad…" The girl swallowed dryly. The threat of that invisible sword hanging over their heads, evoked by Duke Tennison, was finally taking shape. Though it was impossible to determine from which direction the blow would come, they had finally heard the whistle of the blade slicing through the air, preparing to strike. "So, it has begun."

Often, when they were alone and had to catch their breath after the long kisses they exchanged, Mizuki and Levi, still wrapped in each other's arms, would discuss the precarious situation of the Survey Corps, the dangers, the future, the fragmented information that reached their remote location with delays that could cost them their lives. Both had foreseen that the war about to erupt would see, on opposing sides, the Survey Corps - with Jacqueline Tennison now an honorary member - and the Central Government alongside the Military Police. The real unknown was where Pixis and the people would stand; that was the focal point of their discussions, which they would often cut short, quickly forgetting their worries in favor of making love again.

"Yeah."

Mizuki shuddered. "And us…?"

"We have a plan." Levi clenched his fists and sought Mizuki's golden eyes, his only steady point in a world turned upside down. "We'll lure in the bastards who are hunting us, and when they think they have us in their grasp, we'll strike."

.

OOO

.

Eren has finally woken up.

After the experiments, he slept for an entire day.

Mizuki was both fascinated and bitter about it.

Fascinated, because for the first time, she had watched a Titan take orders from a human being up close.

Bitter, because if Amado had been in her place, he would have been just as excited, if not more, than she was.

If only he had been there...

If only he hadn't died.

Mizuki had witnessed the entire session without taking a break or getting tired.

She did it in Amado's honor, even though it had been nothing more than a childish, meaningless whim.

Now, gathered around the bed where Eren rests, they are discussing the results.

Results that, while astonishing, are not the ones they had hoped for.

Titan-Eren had built rudimentary huts, exercised, and tried to communicate with them.

But he hadn't been able to harden his body.

Levi has just spoken, his words sharp and direct.

He is trying to assess the situation, to extract a lesson from the experience.

As usual, only those who know him well, Mizuki and Hange, truly understand him.

Mikasa immediately springs to Eren's defense, like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

Levi isn't the least bit intimidated, but he does attempt to clarify.

"Take a whiff. Inside these walls, the air's always stunk like trash. It's been that way for over a hundred years. We've always lived in shit. That's our situation."

So refined as always!

He will never change.

Mizuki can't help but smile.

She tries to hide the curve of her lips behind her hand.

But he noticed the gesture and clicks his tongue.

Levi perceives even the slightest change in her.

"I didn't notice it until just a few years ago. After all, I've sucked in this stink since the day I was born. I saw it as normal"

Levi is addressing everyone, but his eyes are locked on Mizuki.

Mizuki, who is different from them yet, at the same time, isn't.

"But the air I breathed outside the walls was different. Yes, life out there is hell, but it's got something the walls don't. Freedom. Out there, I finally saw what I'd been missing".

Mizuki's heartbeat quickens.

Levi is talking about the Titans' territory, but also about her.

He has been molded in the mud; she has always lived with her eyes turned to the sky.

He has clawed his way through filth and misery to survive.

She has never questioned her right to exist in this world.

He who attracts and thrives in the shadows, she in the light.

So different, yet so similar.

Yet, they fit together perfectly.

Levi is drawn to the freedom Mizuki embodies.

Mizuki, in turn, is drawn to that yearning for freedom within Levi, despite everything.

It is Hange who translates Levi's cold and ruthless reasoning into words the kids can understand.

Levi and Mizuki are too caught up in their silent conversation, one made entirely of glances.

They understand each other, seek each other, align from opposite sides of the room.

Each of them will play their part to the end.

But once they leave this room, they both know they will find a way to be alone somewhere.

Their bodies, and even more so their souls, crave one another.

It is an impulse they can't resist.

And they don't want to.

"Captain Levi… What is this?"

"Instructions form Erwin."

Levi holds the note between his fingertips.

The oval flame of the candle licks at the edges.

The fire devours the paper with a soft crackle.

The recruits watch the act of destruction in silence.

Their faces are pale and tense, floating in the darkness like leaves fallen into a murky pond.

Despite their inexperience, they sense that this moment is crucial.

Faced with a choice that will shape their fate and the fate of the world, they realize how unprepared they are.

They just wanted to live!

To become soldiers, to carve out a life of dignity and respect, to chase after ordinary, colorless dreams.

How did they end up here, gathered around the ashes of a piece of paper that contains a declaration of rebellion against the very order they had known and accepted until now?

How is it possible that their options have been reduced to only two, fight or die?

How can they take part in a coup when they can't even discern right from wrong?

Mizuki reads the truth on their faces.

She pities them.

She wishes to protect them, to preserve their innocence just a little longer.

But the world has other plans.

Taking advantage of the darkness, Levi hooks two fingers around hers.

That gesture has become theirs.

A silent offering of support, warmth, and affection; an acknowledgment of feelings they are otherwise forced to keep hidden.

Mizuki sighs, soothed.

She is a little afraid of the effect Levi has on her, and at the same time, she has already become addicted to it.

"Do you trust him?"

That is the provocative question Levi poses to the kids.

In Erwin?

Yes, Mizuki respects him and admires his abilities.

But it's not Erwin she trusts.

She will not go to war against other human beings for Erwin.

"Those dumb enough to say yes, come with me…"

Their fingers tighten, just for a moment, as if in a silent farewell before a long separation.

Then, they let go.

No, not for Erwin.

They are surrounded.

The citizens of Trost resemble a pack of predators.

Their steps are silent, their eyes filled with poorly concealed resentment, their fists clenched, their stomachs growling with hunger.

They have closed in around the group of soldiers, cutting off every escape route.

It is despair that makes them aggressive.

Levi understands their reasons.

He even forgives them.

The kids, however, do not.

Fortunately for them.

Those who have never known the gnawing pain of starvation, who have never come close to dying of hunger, who have never experienced true misery, can't understand.

When a human being is pushed to the edge of the abyss, they become willing to do anything.

Morality, justice, honor are just empty, lofty words.

Words that only the well-fed can afford.

For the others, for the starving, anything that can't be used to survive even one more day is useless.

Levi knows it.

He has been there.

He remembers what it feels like to be overwhelmed by the urge to eat dirt just to silence the pangs of an empty stomach.

He remembers what it's like to hallucinate that a stale piece of bread is floating before his eyes.

He will never forget.

At the edge of the crowd, Levi notices an emaciated woman.

She is clutching a skeletal child to her chest.

She is so weak that she no longer even feels indignation or hatred.

She looks like his mother.

Always too thin, too frail, even before she fell ill.

It had been a habit of hers to give up the little food she managed to scavenge in favor of her son.

Levi's heart clenches at the memory, which comes to life in the form of the woman from Trost.

Then, the very next moment, he hears the thunderous sound of wheels on cobblestone.

"Watch out!"

But the people of Trost do not possess his sharp hearing.

"Huh?! Watch out for what?!"

They grab his cloak, two of them pouncing on him at once.

"What's that, humanity's strongest soldier?!"

"There's a carriage coming!"

With a kick, Levi sends one of the attackers flying out of the carriage's path.

Just in time.

The speeding cart cuts through the crowd.

Sasha doesn't miss a beat.

This is her moment.

"Ah! Ar— I mean! Christa, Eren, and Lavinia! They've been kidnapped again!"

Crouched on the ground, Levi furrows his brow.

So, it's true after all.

That bastard's warning turned out to be accurate.

They took Williams too.

Why?

And more importantly, whose side is Wilinski on?

With them, or against them?

It is cold inside the warehouse.

The old window frames fail to keep out the drafts.

The icy air rising from the stone floor is reminiscent of that in cemeteries.

But the cold is the least of the worries for the three people held prisoner inside.

Each of them has far more pressing concerns.

Jean keeps wondering how they could have mistaken him for that suicidal lunatic.

Armin, posing as Historia, is having his nonexistent chest groped by one of the kidnappers.

Jacqueline is struggling not to burst into laughter at the scene.

She is wearing a thick black wig, meant to disguise her as Lavinia in the eyes of the world.

Anyone who had crossed paths with Miss Williams even once would immediately see through the deception.

Lavinia would never find such a vulgar situation amusing.

On the rooftop, Mikasa Ackerman sighs and shakes her head.

"What it looks like inside?"

Levi is keeping an eye on the surroundings.

He wants to make sure there are no hidden enemies.

"They're going to see through Armin's disguise if we don't hurry".

"I see."

"I feel bad for him, too… And Jacqueline is seconds away from laughing in the guards' faces."

"Tsk. That woman is unreliable."

Mikasa steals a glance at her superior.

He is pressed flat against the sloping roof, legs bent and tucked beneath him.

"How's your leg?"

Levi grips his left knee with his hand.

"It's moving pretty well. It's not bad"

Getting clearance to return to action had been tough.

Mizuki wanted him to rest a little longer.

She would take his place leading the kids.

They argued before setting out.

It was unclear whether, in that moment, she had spoken as a doctor or as a woman.

Did she truly believe Levi's knee hadn't fully healed yet?

Or had she simply reached the point where she could no longer bear to see him throw himself into danger?

In the end, though, she had to relent.

Because his leg is fine.

Levi has always recovered faster than ordinary people.

Besides, Mizuki knows that inaction makes him restless.

It eats away at him from the inside, slowly.

Levi is a man of action.

It is through action that he gives meaning to his life.

The captain gives Mikasa a nod.

"Get ready. In one minute, we break in."

.

"All quiet outside?"

"Affirmative. So quiet I was about to fall asleep. The kids?"

"Beats me. I was in the room with Lav."

A brief, essential exchange was all that passed between Mizuki and Loki when they crossed paths at the door of the new hideout during the shift change.

Before closing the door and heading up the stairs, Mizuki paused and cast a glance at her companion, bathed in the golden light of the sun. Loki walked forward with a straight back, arms rigidly pressed to his sides, his sharp, attentive eyes scanning the surroundings, a confident, cocky stance exuding self-assurance from every pore. For the first time since Amado's death, his breath didn't reek of alcohol from the early hours of the morning.

Mizuki sighed, finally reassured. This sudden change of scenario, this eruption of action into their lives that had unsettled the kids so much, had actually benefited Loki and Levi, both incapable of passively waiting for events to unfold without suffering for it.

Mizuki took the stairs. She passed the room where Lavinia, hunched over a desk, was consulting reports sent by their comrades scattered across the territory and taking notes. She slipped past silently; she didn't want to disturb her, only to make sure she was calm and had overcome the initial irritation and rejection of the idea that Jacqueline would be impersonating her. "But she looks nothing like me!" Lavinia had blurted out when the news was delivered, her eyes blazing, demanding Mizuki's full and heartfelt agreement. "Yeah, well, Jacqueline has way more boobs than you and is way more likeable," Loki had dared to say, trying to lighten the mood; then, when Lavinia had pounced on him like an angry cat, he had added, "What are you complaining about? Think of poor Historia, who's being impersonated by Armin!"

Or maybe, Mizuki thought with irony, think of poor Armin, who has to impersonate a girl. She mentally calculated how much comfort and support would be needed to help him recover from the trauma.

At the slightly ajar door next to Lavinia's room, Mizuki was met with the muffled sound of Eren and Historia's voices, deeply engrossed in conversation.

"So? Everyone was disappointed, right? That the real me was this empty… That I'm nothing like the good girl Christa Lens was"

"No, that's not true. I don't know about the others, but I didn't really like the old you."

"Huh?"

"It felt like you always had a forced expression on your face. It was unnatural, a little creepy, honestly."

Mizuki pushed the door open slightly. Bad move, Eren. Minus ten points for you. That was about as delicate as the captain.

"But there's something I like about you now"

"Huh?"

"You're just normal. Just a normal girl, who's absurdly honest"

The creaking of the hinges gave away Mizuki's presence. Historia and Eren snapped their heads towards the doorway, already tense, and only relaxed when they recognized her.

Mizuki stepped towards the table, raising her hands in peace. "Easy, easy. It's just me. Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to interrupt you either."

As soon as Eren was within reach, she ruffled his already messy brown hair, earning a questioning look from the boy.

Never mind: great job, Eren. Though, judging by Historia's purple-tinged face, it seems Lav is right again. And that opens up new scenarios: at this rate, it's not the Central Government Historia will need protection from, but Mikasa!

"It's fine, Vice-Captain," Historia reassured her, the blush on her cheeks already fading. "I didn't say anything confidential. It's an obvious fact, plain for everyone to see."

"Mmm." Mizuki tilted her head slightly and planted her hands on her hips. "You think so? I never really knew Christa Lenz. Only Historia Reiss. And to be honest, I didn't mind her at all."

Historia lifted hesitant, sorrowful blue eyes to her, eyes filled with conflicting emotions, an odd mix to find in the same face: on one side, there was resigned, weary exasperation, a sign that Historia didn't believe her and was convinced Mizuki was just trying to placate her like a child; on the other, a barely contained, raw, painful hope, the kind only children who have never been loved possess, the desperate longing to have finally found an adult willing to give them unconditional affection. "But on the walls, you scolded me…"

Now it was Historia's turn to get a vigorous hair ruffle. "Of course! You were being stubborn! But I liked your stubbornness! People who blindly follow orders without ever rebelling, even a little, have no backbone!"

"Yeah, but only you can hope to survive Captain Levi's retaliation…" Eren muttered under his breath, shivering at the memory of the scolding he had earned two days earlier for mopping the floor poorly.

"If I had gone back outside the walls, though, I probably would have died," Historia said, smoothing down the strands of hair that had gone static from Mizuki's touch. "So much for backbone."

"Oh, no, no. I would've stopped you before you could even think of going through with it!" Mizuki grasped her chin between two fingers and lifted it slightly.

"Huh?"

With the intent of soothing Historia's desperate need for love, Mizuki planted a warm, affectionate kiss on her forehead. "Part of my job is stopping you when you're about to do something stupid! You're kind of like my kids, after all!"

"Miss Mizuki, that's impossible. You're only four years older than us…" Eren reminded her, rocking back and forth on his chair.

"Oh, come on, no! I'm way older than you in here!" she exclaimed, tapping her temple with her fingertip and settling into a seat at the table.

She said nothing more, but deep down, she wished for Eren and Historia's adolescence to last a little longer. Despite both having already endured terrible moments, including the violent deaths of their mothers, Mizuki could still sense traces of childhood innocence in them, the kind children possess until life decides it's time to shatter their illusions irreparably.

The looks Historia and Eren gave her held an unspoken but unmistakable question.

"There's no news yet, guys," Mizuki said, answering their silent interrogation. "It's early; they're probably still in the middle of the operation. Armin and Jean will have to keep playing your roles for a little while longer!"

Eren grimaced in frustration. "He looks nothing like me! I don't get how you guys even picked him! I don't have a horse face like he does!"

Mizuki burst out laughing. From the back pocket of her trousers, she pulled out a deck of worn-out cards and slid them onto the table. She had come prepared to entertain the two kids, forced to wait for the plan to unfold while being stuck in that stifling room. "How about a game? Loser gets the next cleaning shifts!"

Levi hasn't stopped to look down at Trost from above in a long time.

Just a few hours ago, he walked its streets.

He came face to face with the hunger and misery that dwell there.

Now, he embraces the city with his gaze.

Nothing but a heap of rubble.

And yet, Trost endures.

It survives.

It refuses to give in.

Like weeds that no harsh condition can completely uproot.

And it's thanks to men like Dimo Reeves that this is possible.

They act like scoundrels, but they are never just that.

They've sold their souls, but at a steep price.

And with what they've earned, they feed and protect hundreds of people.

It's a way of thinking that Levi understands.

It's not so different from his own, after all.

What he pursues through force, Dimo Reeves achieves through negotiations and money.

Levi watches him from the corner of his eye.

A stout man, with heavy movements, a shifty gaze, the worn face of a con artist.

A slight nervous tic flickers in his left eye.

The eyelid trembles, twitches, then suddenly stills.

Levi has noticed that this telltale sign appears when Dimo Reeves thinks and decides.

Right now, he is weighing and considering Levi's proposal.

The advantages it could bring for himself and for Trost.

Dimo Reeves is a smart man.

A shrewd and skilled merchant.

Levi waits with confidence.

He knows he will accept.

Partly because he has no other choice, partly because it benefits him.

Dimo Reeves has already sold his soul.

Handing over its usage rights to the Survey Corps won't make much of a difference to him.

And besides, they are far more generous masters than the Military Police.

Dimo Reeves suddenly snaps out of his thoughts.

"Seems you're even greedier than a merchant. I like that".

He extends his hand to Levi.

There's a satisfied glint in his eyes.

He has calculated that, no matter how things turn out, this deal will bring profit, to both the corporation and Trost.

"You're a smart man"

"We have a deal"

With those words and a firm handshake, their partnership is sealed.

.

OOO

.

In the damp basement, the light was dim and diffused. Rain, having poured for decades over the barren mountainside, had seeped into the irregular, unworked stone walls, from which a cold, invisible mist rose, soaking into clothing, dampening hair, and unpleasantly creeping into bones.

After kidnapping two members of the Central Military Police, Sannes and Ralph, with the help of the Reeves Corporation, the group of fugitives had retreated to one of the Survey Corps's strategic outposts scattered across the territory, a military watchtower perched on a cliffside, accompanied by a small wooden house where the kitchen and sleeping quarters were located. Carved into the sheer rock wall beneath the main tower structure was a spacious basement, equipped with cells and arrow slits, useful for keeping an eye on the valley and defending the post against potential enemies.

They had secured their "guests," tied up like salami, in two separate rooms at opposite ends of the underground chamber. Now, Levi, Hange, Moblit, and Mizuki were discussing how to make Sannes and Ralph spill the truth.

Mizuki shivered; hugging her arms to her chest, she tried to chase away the cold that lingered in that part of the building. She gave a small cough and began, "Alright, I'd say the smartest thing to do is for me to handle the interrogation."

A disgruntled grunt came from Levi. "Not a chance, brat."

"And why not, exactly?"

"Uhm, guys…" Hange interjected, attempting, without success, to cut off the argument before it escalated.

"Are you stupid or something?"

"Excuse me? That's my line. As far as I know, I'm the only one here with actual experience in torture."

"Guys…"

"Let's not talk bullshit. Pouring water down an idiot's throat doesn't mean you know how to torture someone. And get it out of your head that a single bottle will be enough to make those two talk. They're trained soldiers."

"Perfect, that's exactly what I was hoping for!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Hange physically stepped between the two, who were squaring off menacingly, baring their teeth. "Enough! And to think I had the impression you two were getting along better lately! What's gotten into you? Since when do you bicker like this, over nothing?"

The answer was simple, though neither of them could afford to give it to Hange: since Levi had resolved to keep Mizuki away from dangerous or morally questionable tasks; since Mizuki had made it her mission to do the same for Levi. Since they had both unilaterally decided that if their first goal proved unattainable, they would share the other's fate, for better or worse; which meant walking the same path to hell, staining themselves with the same sins, enduring the same regrets.

Unable to express these intentions, too deeply intertwined with the strange, evolving dynamic between them, Levi and Mizuki remained silent, lips pressed together, locked in a glare that neither of them was willing to back down from.

"Anyway," Hange pushed her glasses up onto her forehead and rubbed her bruised, swollen eyelids, heavy from lack of sleep. "I agree with Levi."

"But…!"

The squad leader raised a firm hand to silence Mizuki. "This won't be a walk in the park, Mizuki. And besides, Levi and I talked and decided on one thing: before we even start questioning Sannes for real, I want him to endure the same pain they inflicted on Nick when they butchered him."

Mizuki's eyes widened, and instinctively, she took a step back.

Hange sighed. "Exactly the reaction I expected and hoped for, since I have a lot of faith in your moral integrity. This is another reason why I don't want you involved: it wouldn't be right for you to bear the weight of the consequences of an action you don't fully agree with; one that, technically, could be avoided. And, as Levi pointed out, things could get pretty gruesome once the real torture begins, so it's best if us adults handle it."

"Tsk. That settles it," Levi muttered, retrieving the apron hanging on the wall and slipping it on in one fluid motion; Hange followed suit. In several places, the fabric was so worn it had become shiny; dark stains, whose origins Mizuki preferred not to dwell on, were scattered across its entire surface.

"So I'm just supposed to sit around twiddling my thumbs while you two do the dirty work?" Mizuki asked, trying her best not to sound like a child who's just been refused permission to go to the county fair by her parents.

"Exactly," Levi shot back, giving her a sharp glance.

"No, Mizuki!" Hange, hastily tying her apron, quickly placed both hands on Mizuki's shoulders and turned her to face her. "You have an important role to play, too. You can figure it out yourself: the kids upstairs are lost. Take care of them, please."

Mizuki pressed her lips together. Yes, she could figure it; and yes, she wanted to take care of them. A part of her was itching to rush upstairs and push the kids out of the building before it was too late. But the other part…

Her heart, her soul, they kept her rooted to the basement, beside that man, who was about to stain himself with necessary yet despicable acts. There was no other place she wanted and, most importantly, could be.

"Squad Leader, I have an idea," Moblit murmured, absently straightening the wrinkles in Hange's apron. "Mizuki, if I remember correctly, your father… well, he's an expert in the field, isn't he?"

Mizuki immediately became wary. It was an old habit of hers: whenever people brought up Sasuke Uchiha, things always got complicated. "Yes. Why?"

"Well, is there any… let's say, advice you could give us?"

Instead of answering, Mizuki studied Moblit. As serious, professional, and composed as ever, it was impossible not to notice his reddened eyes, a sign that betrayed how he had likely spent the five minutes of his bathroom break crying in despair. Even without a shred of evidence to back up her conviction, Mizuki was certain that, whenever he was alone, the grief of losing Amado overwhelmed him to the point of making him lose track of time and place.

Yet, despite this, as an impeccable soldier, he still managed to put duty before emotions; as a precious friend, he still worried about his comrades. Yes, it was clear: with that bizarre request, he was trying to meet her halfway, to make her feel less useless! Good old Moblit!

And she? Since when had she become so selfish as to put her own feelings before those of others? To the point of wanting to stay by Levi's side, even at the cost of neglecting the needs of the kids?

Since you kissed him, you little fool, a sly voice sang in her head. Actually, before that, long before. Even though you fought against the truth, you belonged to him well before that moment.

"Right, Mizuki." Hange lowered her glasses back onto her nose. "Do you have any tips?"

Mizuki crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. She pondered in that pose for a few moments, seemingly oblivious to the expectant gazes of the three adults. "I don't know if this can be considered a tip," she finally said slowly, letting her arms fall to her sides, "but I remember that, as a child, one particular aspect of his working method really struck me."

"Wait, why were such details shared with you when you were a child?" Hange asked, caught off guard.

"Because she's a damn busybody, and she probably didn't give a moment of peace to that poor bastard from whom she planned to get this information" Levi hissed.

She couldn't hold back a smile: despite never having told him that detail about her childhood, the captain had guessed it. "Correct, sunshine," she conceded with a nod. "Anyway, the point is this: my father tortured people, that's true, but it was very rare for him to use violence to achieve his goal. He resorted to it only in exceptional cases."

Moblit stared at her, stunned. "How is that possible?"

"Oh, it's entirely possible. Before 'working' on a prisoner, my father always conducted research on them: what their life was like, whether they were married or single, if they had children, if they had any particular dreams or ambitions, and so on. He came into the interrogation fully prepared and left it victorious, often without even laying a finger on his victim. He didn't need to. He got what he wanted through psychology: depending on the case, he would break the prisoner by threatening their loved ones, manipulate them by preying on their weaknesses, or negotiate by offering them what their heart desired. That's why he was the best in his field."

Bringing back those long-forgotten memories, the sheer diabolical brilliance of her father sent a shiver down Mizuki's spine. When one of Sasuke Uchiha's colleagues, after endless insistence from a young Mizuki and because of a lingering resentment towards that brilliant torturer, had finally described her father's preferred working method, she hadn't fully understood; she was too young. Only much later, after delving into the art of introspection, observing others, and psychology, had Mizuki finally grasped it, as if struck by a sudden revelation; back then, just like in that dimly lit basement, the monstrous yet awe-inspiring ability her father had to get inside people's heads and extract their deepest secrets had sent a shiver through her, born from a mixture of repulsion and admiration in equal measure.

"Clearly, we don't have the resources or the time to investigate Sannes and Ralph," Mizuki continued, snapping out of her thoughts. "What you can do, though, is try to extract some information from them during the interrogation, to get inside their heads while you're torturing them. Do you understand?"

Hange nodded with the focused expression she wore during experiments. "Perfectly," she muttered. Her mind had already sunk into the role she had to play, that of the torturer, and was now working on the most efficient way to apply Mizuki's suggestion.

Mizuki exchanged one last glance with Levi, pouring all her frustration over their separation into it. Then, she watched them slip silently into the room where Sannes was being held.

The door closed with a dull thud, shutting her out.

Mizuki turned and hurried up the first steps leading back to the surface.

Then she stopped.

She stood still, waiting for something she didn't dare name; so still that her chest barely moved with her breaths.

An invisible force was pulling her upwards: the sense of duty towards the kids, lost and in need of guidance, and the loyalty to Hange, who had entrusted her with the task of watching over them.

But there was also something darker pulling her downwards, towards that cold, damp basement; an energy wrapping around her, numbing her limbs, holding her in place.

It started all at once.

The silence was torn apart by an inhuman scream, the first in a long series of agonized howls.

Mizuki squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the railing tightly.

Beyond Sannes' screams as he was tortured, Hange and Levi's calm voices echoed off the stone walls, but they didn't reach Mizuki. She could only hear the rest - the sobbing man's pleas, as helpless as a child's - just as, when looking at a crowded drawing, the eye is drawn to the single detail that captures its imagination.

It took a full minute before Mizuki broke free from the basement's sinister spell and finally finished climbing the stairs.

The dining room, a warm and bright space, contrasted so sharply with the atmosphere below that Mizuki was momentarily stunned. Temporarily blinded, with her numb skin tingling, she took a few hesitant steps towards the source of the low chatter of the kids.

At that moment, it was Armin speaking: "We're already criminals, you know. The enemies we're facing now aren't going to eat us if we don't kill them. They're enemies because they have different ideas, or maybe just because they're in a different group. Sometime soon, we might have to take people's lives for reasons like that…"

Mizuki's heart tightened. She never wanted to hear such reasoning come from one of "her" kids.

"We're not good people anymore…"

She had known from the beginning that protecting them, preventing them from clashing with the harsh and ironic reality, was not possible, because that was not how the world worked. It had been so for Hange and Levi, for Mizuki, for many others before them, for every human being within the walls. Sooner or later, even if a civil war hadn't broken out or Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie hadn't betrayed them, it would eventually reach them too: the abrupt and disheartening end of childhood, the death of innocence, the slow decline of unrealizable dreams; the recent events had simply accelerated a process that could not be stopped.

What was happening to the kids sitting around a table in front of Mizuki was the act of "growing up," laden with all its difficulties, exasperations, weaknesses, dreams, and regrets. It was painful, that growth; painful, yet at the same time irreplaceable and beautiful.

Eren was the first to notice her presence. "Ah, Miss Mizuki!" he exclaimed, signaling her arrival to the others. "You were right, huh?"

"Right about what, Eren?" Mizuki asked tiredly as she approached.

"That in the end, humans are the real monsters."

She bit her lower lip. Reducing the message she had tried to convey to Eren to that dry summary felt overly simplistic, but it didn't seem appropriate to engage in a discussion, nor did she have the strength or desire to do so.

The kids' demeanor perfectly expressed their inner conflict: eyes strictly cast downward, as if afraid to meet those of their neighbor and see reflected there the anguish that plagued them; hands clasped and arms glued to their bodies to stop the trembling that shook them; feet tapping on the floor from which the repressed nervousness leaked out; heads sunk, with shoulders brushing against their ears, as if to protect themselves from the agonizing and piercing screams of the tortured prisoner.

Oh, those screams…

They were the most horrifying thing Mizuki had ever heard.

They were worse than the sound of bodies being devoured or crushed by the Titans, worse than the cries and pleas of dying soldiers…

Worse, much worse. They could hardly be compared.

Because they were caused not by Titans, but by a human being who was torturing another.

And those kids…

She had to do something for those kids forced to live with that nightmare.

Once again, in their moment of need, Mizuki abandoned her deliberately carefree manner and adopted the attitude of the man she admired so much, his direct and unembellished ways, yet capable of piercing the souls of people. "Ohi, kids. Look up. Come on. Look up and look me in the face."

Only when the last among them - Jean, who had his head in his hands and seemed almost untouched by Mizuki's voice - followed the order did she continue.

"Good and evil. Get it into your heads that dividing people into these two categories is absolute nonsense. There are no good people. There are no evil people." Mizuki hesitated, unsure how to continue, as every term seemed inadequate to accurately represent her idea; but a chorus of muffled and whining pleas from downstairs urged her to carry on. "It would be convenient to think in these terms. But it's too simple. No, the truth is that each of us is just trying to do what we think is right, based on our own system of values and beliefs. Yes, that's it." As she continued, and the words she needed to say suddenly came to her lips, her voice gained confidence and speed. "That's what matters: always acting while trying to live up to that ideal of justice we've set for ourselves."

"Vice-captain…" Jean lowered his hands, freeing his head from the grip he had held until then and looked at her with lost and vaguely accusatory eyes. "How can it be right to torture a man?"

With difficulty, Mizuki maintained eye contact. He was the first to break it. "Jean, do you generally consider me a righteous person?"

"What? I… I think so. Yes, you are. You're good."

"Really? Yet, a year ago, I also tortured a man."

That statement unleashed a startled murmur among the kids. Mizuki expected it and didn't blame them at all. One day, perhaps, she would tell them about Liam Heather and the atrocious crimes he had committed, but not now. Now, they shouldn't get caught up in concrete and individual considerations, but grasp the principle that had led her to act in such a brutal way.

Mizuki kept her hands clenched into fists in her pockets; they were trembling. Opening up in this way, confessing to the kids she cared so much for about an undertaking she was far from proud of and risking invoking their contempt terrified her, but it was necessary; otherwise, sensational talks filled with beautiful words and moral platitudes would have been worthless.

"No, Jean. I am not 'good.' I am a person who, like everyone else, is trying to do her best. As I told you, the world is much more complicated than that; to truly understand reality, one cannot settle for a simplistic and unrealistic division between good and evil. The world is not black and white; it is gray, and that's why navigating it is so damn difficult. And it is for this reason that you must develop the ability to think for yourselves; only then will you be able to find your way in this labyrinth without being overwhelmed by the complexity of the world."

Mizuki paused to catch her breath. In the room, there was absolute silence. The kids hung on her every word; they waited for her to continue without moving or making a sound, fearing that even the faintest noise could disturb her concentration. Even Sannes had temporarily stopped screaming.

"That man I tortured… To him, I am definitely a monster. Perhaps I really am. But I would be ready to do what I did again at any moment. It wasn't pleasant, it wasn't nice, but it was necessary. That slimy, filthy being had committed terrible acts; I tortured him to prevent more crimes from being committed against defenseless victims and to protect someone dear to me. Because I thought and still think that it was the right thing to do. Because this is my justice."

Finally, Mizuki was able to control the tremors that shook her hands; she pulled them from her pockets and gently ruffled Jean's hair, who continued to stare at her with a rather astonished expression, but without any trace of accusation.

"The justice of the Survey Corps is freedom; all affiliated soldiers share this ideal. I believe it's the same for you since you've chosen to be part of it, but that doesn't mean the way you pursue and enact your justice is the same as ours. In fact, I sincerely hope it's not! Think, kids. Learn to think, never accept anything as an inevitable fact, not even if it comes from me, from Hange, from the captain, or even from Erwin. Question, doubt, seek answers, and doubt again, always. Find your way through this perpetual process of reflection without letting yourselves be influenced. Only then will you not sink into darkness."

Mizuki couldn't bring herself to add that, in a world like the one within the walls, the right to assert one's own justice could only be obtained through violence, forcibly ripping it from those in power and undermining the system built on someone else's sense of justice. The sharper ones among them would figure it out on their own; the others would continue to live unaware for a while longer, before history slapped the truth in their faces.

Connie leaned his head towards Mizuki, timidly pointing at it with his finger. With a laugh, she ruffled his almost shaved head.

"Me too!" exclaimed Sasha, offering her forehead with an exaggerated bow.

Even without being invited, Mizuki tousled Historia's hair; she was sure that, as much as she wanted to receive her attention, the young Reiss's habit of not expecting even the most trivial gesture of affection from others had prevailed once again.

Mizuki sighed in relief, and the tension in the room melted away.

For the moment, she had successfully fulfilled her role as a guide and protector.

She had given the kids something to think about; something that, hopefully, would slightly muffle the monstrous noises that had resumed infesting the stairwell.

They wouldn't erase them, no.

It would be impossible to do so, after all: at the point they had reached, looking away was no longer a viable option.

.

It was all over.

At least for that day.

Following Mizuki's suggestion, Hange and Levi, after analyzing Sannes' personality and psychology during the interrogation, had become convinced that the best way to trap him was to make him believe he had been betrayed by his comrades, the very ones who should have upheld his insane ideology. So, in a rush, they had sketched out a script and forced Ralph, under threat, to perform it in front of Sannes' cell. Time, solitude, forced immobility, physical pain, the inhuman conditions of imprisonment, all of it would make the supposed traitor's words sink into Sannes' mind, shattering any will to resist.

"At least, that's what I hope," Hange concluded from the doorway. She opened her arms in a gesture of weary helplessness. "Otherwise, I have no idea what else we could come up with."

"I'm sure it will work," Mizuki reassured her, leaning her hip against the doorframe.

"We'll see… For now, I'm going to take a shower." Hange cast a worried glance over Mizuki's shoulder.

"I'll stay. I still have a couple of things to discuss with the Captain," the girl replied.

Hange gave a thumbs-up and walked away down the corridor. Mizuki watched her go, then quietly closed the door.

Levi stood in the center of the room, illuminated by the rosy light of the sunset streaming in through the open window. With his back to Mizuki, he gazed at the horizon line, beyond which the sun had plunged, creating a blazing streak of fire, so intense it hurt the eyes. He had taken off the gloves, but he was still wearing the protective apron; to the original dark, coppery stains, new ones had been added, fresh and glistening, of a nauseating red color.

Mizuki approached him with a silent step, though she was certain he would notice it anyway. With one arm, she wrapped around his waist, pressing herself against his back, and rested her chin on his shoulder; her right hand sought his, abandoned at his side, and squeezed it.

Levi did not pull away from the embrace; on the contrary, he returned the squeeze, pressed his cheek against Mizuki's, and reached for her other hand, the one languidly resting on his stomach. It was never a given that he would accept Mizuki's gestures so willingly. While passionate kisses and sensual touches didn't faze him, he still struggled to get used to the softer affections she offered him in moments of quiet like this. Life had made him wild: when rationality wasn't swept away by lust, Levi found it hard to surrender to certain displays of tenderness, even though he craved them, like a plant that had grown in the wild and was suddenly transplanted into a pot indoors to survive the winter.

Tonight, however, he needed her. Needed her, her physical and mental closeness, her body, her voice, her laughter.

"You'll get dirty," the captain remarked, referring to the bloodstains on his apron and, perhaps, to the actions he had just committed.

"Don't start."

"What a handful you are".

Mizuki lifted Levi's hand. His knuckles were torn in several places. She kissed each jagged wound with tenderness, pressing her parted lips to one, holding them there for a moment, as if to suck out the invisible poison that had seeped into the captain's body with every blow he had dealt to the helpless prisoner, then moved to the next.

Levi surrendered to that purifying ritual without resistance. "How did it go with the brats?"

"Good, I think… I made them reflect on what's happening. Given our current situation, this might sound stupid, but… I wish I could protect them more. To protect that innocence that's still so deeply rooted in them…" Mizuki murmured against his battered skin. She kissed his knuckles one last time, then intertwined her fingers with his and let their hands fall back against the captain's side.

"I know, but it's impossible, now. Our only role is to guide them."

Mizuki sighed. "Yeah…"

Even those half-developed conversations were beautiful, where they said everything and nothing at once.

They both gazed out the window, breathing in unison, savoring the warmth of each other's bodies.

It would have been nice if that moment could last forever.

Levi blinked. For that brief instant when darkness descended upon the world, he imagined this scene unfolding in the future. A tomorrow where, with the Titans eradicated and humanity freed, he and Mizuki would live together somewhere remote. At the end of each day, standing by the window, embracing and talking about trivial, useless things, they would immerse themselves in an atmosphere of serene contentment born from their closeness and thus they would wait for the night to come.

That was happiness; an unattainable mirage that lasted barely the span of a heartbeat.

Mizuki tilted her head slightly and pressed a chaste kiss against his neck, right where his artery pounded tumultuously beneath his skin. She left her lips there, savoring the sensation of Levi's heartbeat.

At the contact, a shiver ran through him, and he tightened his grip on Mizuki's hands.

"Don't tease me, brat," he grumbled, though he didn't sound annoyed at all.

"Or what?" Mizuki chuckled, her warm breath washing over the nape of his neck.

"There is no 'or what,'" The captain stopped himself. When she acted like this - and there was no doubt she was doing it on purpose, egged on by Tennison - it was difficult not to take the bait, to keep his resolve not to lay his hands on her, and even more so, not to rip her clothes off. "You know what I think."

"I know you insist on setting meaningless limits." Mizuki loosened the embrace and slid in front of him. "But those are your limits, not mine."

She placed her open palms on Levi's chest and gently pushed him back, guiding him towards the door until his back pressed against it. She didn't use any real force, yet she met no resistance. The captain let her lead him, a reprimand poised on the tip of his tongue and his eyes silently begging her not to stop.

"So? That's it?"

"You shouldn't challenge me." The amused and arrogant smile, the first trait of hers that he had learned to recognize, lit up her face. "Keep the door closed, sunshine. Mind you."

As she undid his trousers, Mizuki's hands were shaking slightly. She hoped he wouldn't notice, or he would end up using that nonsense to reinforce his absurd positions and escape from her clutches again. And yes, Mizuki felt the pressure of inexperience and the fear of the unknown: she had never done 'certain things' to a man, but nothing would make her give up. Now, not a night went by that she didn't dream of taking Levi's turgid penis between her fingers, of testing its consistency, admiring its heat, of finally feeling it pulsate against her bare skin.

The captain, however, seemed anything but willing to stop her. He too, that evening, was in desperate need of a more intimate, deeper contact; an ancestral need, that not even his rigid and inflexible morality could erase. To forget, even temporarily, what he had done in the basement, to purge himself of the bitter gall that was poisoning him, he needed Mizuki; to have her close, to feel her more strongly than he had yet.

Mizuki lowered his trousers and underwear without breaking eye contact. She still didn't dare look down. "If you want to stop me, you have to do it now. Afterwards you won't be able to or want to."

The steel-colored irises lit up with a fiery flash, which contained a rather unmistakable message: it was already too late to backtrack. "Fuck it. Let's not joke."

"The door, mind you," Mizuki repeated mechanically.

Her fingers had the courage that her eyes lacked: they wrapped themselves around Levi's erection with timid curiosity.

A warm droplet slid down the palm of her hand and fell to the ground.

They both stiffened: Levi from the carnal pleasure; Mizuki from that of discovery.

Holding a penis in her hand gave her strange sensations. It was warm, smooth and shiny, alive, at times crossed by spasms of a will - the will to get even closer to her - that transcended Levi's. And then, it was really big and thick, so much so that Mizuki was alarmed, convincing herself that she would never be able to take it all in. Obviously, she had no terms of comparison, but she believed that they were useless: when you find yourself in the presence of the sea, you don't need to know the ponds to have a measure of its size.

During the days of waiting spent in the mountains, Jacqueline had taken on the burden of training Mizuki in the art of sex. So, in the evenings, the two girls would lock themselves in some room and the ex noble, with an incredibly serious and professional frown, would reel off data and notions, share experiences and give her friend practical lessons on how to give pleasure first to oneself and then to the other, she would instruct her on how to flirt and provoke a man, on how to communicate one's sexual preferences and needs to one's partner. At the beginning of each session, she would subject her disciple to questions and practical tests to verify her level of learning.

At the beginning, Mizuki had lent herself to Jacqueline's whims with resignation and embarrassment, experiencing them as a sort of game; then, as the course progressed, she had understood their usefulness and, as a lover of discovery and knowledge, she had become seriously passionate.

And now that she had the captain's dick in her hand and his eyes full of expectation and need fixed on her, Mizuki was extremely happy to have undergone Jacqueline's training.

Gently, without any pressure, she began to move her hand: she caressed the penis a couple of times along its entire length, from the base to the tip, trying to gain confidence and explore that part of Levi that she didn't know yet.

The captain instinctively leaned forward and spread his legs slightly to make her work easier. Sensing what he wanted, Mizuki glued her body to his, positioning herself so as to continue masturbating him, she rose slightly on tiptoe and kissed him.

Levi's reaction was immediate: his tongue insinuated itself into Mizuki's mouth with violence, his leg slid between hers so as to fit their bodies together better, and his hand grabbed her ass; his fingers sank into the flesh and groped greedily, like a cat making bread in a pillow. She arched her back slightly, while a pang of pleasure ran through her from head to toe.

Levi didn't say a single word, yet Mizuki read perfectly what he wanted in his half-closed eyes, which didn't stop even for a moment from looking, alternately, at her face and at the fingers that were masturbating him. As if obeying a silent order, she progressively increased the pace. Her hand slid up and down, up and down, along the turgid and wet dick, which responded to her caresses by pulsating and leaking liquid from the tip.

Levi had detached his mouth to lower it and bite the neck that was emerging from her shirt. Before then, a woman's neck had never shown a particular attraction to him; but Mizuki's, thin and framed by the curls of her neck... he thought he had never seen anything so erotic and exciting; he could have spent the whole night contemplating it, kissing it, nibbling it, licking it.

He slightly raised his leg and pressed his knee against the crotch of Mizuki's pants.

She gasped and groaned. "No…" she panted, pulling away slightly. "No…"

"No? You don't like it?" Levi breathed into the hollow of her throat. "I want you to be wet," he said, in the tone he took when giving orders to his subordinates.

Mizuki's legs were shaking: that desire that Levi, usually devoid of any pretensions, had expressed with such precision and determination had turned her on even more. "It's not necessary…" she gasped, clutching the captain's shoulder to keep from collapsing to the ground. "I'm always wet when you kiss me… Always, even if you don't touch me, all I need is to hold you to… to…".

Levi's penis twitched, his hand squeezed her ass even more desperately, and with a guttural moan he came. Hearing that admission of desire and submission from Mizuki had given him the final blow.

The orgasm hit him so unexpectedly and so powerfully that he didn't notice until it was too late, and in fact he couldn't direct the jet of sperm so as not to dirty the surrounding environment. The white liquid splashed in all directions on the dark wooden floor at their feet, as if a cup of milk had just been spilled by a clumsy child.

He couldn't remember ever lasting so little, not even in his adolescence, when his hormones gave him no respite and he didn't have the slightest idea how to find a woman. And he couldn't even remember ever enjoying himself like that: despite the hellish and uncomfortable position, standing against a door, with the handle planted in his side, Levi had been overwhelmed by a wave of intense, almost unreal, never-before-experienced pleasure. It had taken very little to make him feel good: Mizuki's body nestled against his, her lips stretched in a half smile just a hair's breadth from his own, her curls tucking into the collar of his shirt, her ass in his hands, her fingers touching him, bold and inexperienced, her admission that a mere kiss from Levi was enough to excite her.

Levi slumped against the door, panting. "Fuck…"

"Fuck…" Mizuki repeated, looking in amazement at the mess on the floor and her hand, slightly dirty on the back. "I did it!"

"Tsk. Of course you did it. It's no harder than killing a Titan." Levi leaned over to give her a kiss; then, reassuming his role as a pragmatic and efficient man, he took off his pants and underwear and kicked them so as not to let them end up in the pools of sperm scattered on the parquet. He took from Mizuki's hand the now limp, relaxed and satisfied dick, which she continued to hold as if it were a priceless treasure, and shook it as best he could. Half naked as he was, he retrieved a rag from the bucket under the table and began to clean the floor.

Pressed against the door to keep from falling, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other slumped against her side, Mizuki absentmindedly rubbed the tips of her cum-soaked fingers. "Leave it and go shower. I'll tide up."

"It's the mess I made, so I'll clean it up," Levi grunted, carefully wiping the rag across the damp boards.

"You and Hange still have dinner."

"You're not my servant." Levi replied dryly. "And you've done enough already. I'll take care of tidying up the kitchen tonight."

As much as she had willingly offered to tidy up for him so he could rest, the captain's refusal somehow pleased her. She hesitated for a moment, her head cocked to the side, then said: "Fine, but… If you really feel indebted, all you have to do is promise to return the favor, despite the absurd limits you've imposed on yourself."

The captain snapped his head up and stopped picking up the dirt with the cloth.

Mizuki coughed and, with her cheeks burning, continued to set her trap for him: "Kissing you is torture for me: you kiss me, you hold me, you excite me and then we stop at the best part and… doing it alone is not the same thing." She chuckled nervously at that admission; despite the embarrassment, however, she didn't stop. "I… I want you. Even if you're not willing to give me everything right now, I want something more. Deal?" Mizuki concluded, with an almost imperceptible inflection of supplication in her voice, as Jacqueline had advised her to do to convince him to give up his absurd purpose.

A useless precaution: from the way Levi looked her up and down and slightly pressed his lips together, like a wolf on the hunt, it was clear that at that moment no stratagem was needed to get a promise from him.

"Deal," he said slowly, starting to rub the wood again. "I'll return the favor."

Mizuki's lips stretched into a smile of triumph and frenzy.

.

The next morning, at dawn, Hange and Levi showed up at Sannes's cell, ready to resume the cycle of torture.

There was no need: as soon as he saw them, the prisoner spilled the beans of his own free will.

The plan had worked: the thought of having been betrayed had broken that man's soul, depriving him of any ability to resist and fight.

That was how the Survey Corps discovered the true identity of Historia Reiss.