The morning sun was already burning through the mist when the squad assembled at the south training field, gear gleaming, blades checked, and steam packs full. Birds chirped in the treetops, and the distant sound of gear drills echoed like background music to the day's routine.

Beatrice stood at the edge of the formation, cloak fluttering softly in the wind. She adjusted the straps of her manoeuvre gear with practised ease, fingers nimble. Her new goggles rested firmly over her eyes, tinted just enough to ease the light, no longer squinting, shrinking when the sun caught metal.

She looked… sharp.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn't have to fight the world just to see it.

Hange had insisted the lenses were "tuned for combat efficiency," but all Beatrice knew was that everything felt a little softer now. A little more manageable.

She was adapting.

"Formation drills!" Erwin called from the front, clipboard already out. "Pairs—rotation mid-air, route clearing. Treat it like a real engagement."

"Got it!" Isabel shouted, stretching her arms over her head. "I call Beatrice for the first round!"

"Too slow," Levi said, already walking past her. "She's with me."

Isabel groaned, "Again?!"

"Should've picked faster."

Beatrice blinked once under her goggles, then stepped into place beside Levi like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hange, watching from the side, hummed thoughtfully. "She's moving differently."

"She's squinting less," Farlan noted from behind his gear harness. "And walking straighter."

"She always walked straight."

"Not like this."

Then—fwsssshk.

The sound of two sets of gear launching into the trees snapped the air.

And just like that, they were gone. Levi and Beatrice moved through the trunks like water—one shadow and one glint of light, her goggles catching the sun in a way that made her look almost inhuman. Her lines were tighter, her focus more refined. She didn't pause. Didn't hesitate. Every motion was deliberate. Controlled. Confident.

And still quiet.

Still her.

Levi noticed immediately. No more flinching when the sunlight cut between branches. No more delay in spotting distant targets. No more small gasps when a glint of glare caught her line of sight. She moved like someone who'd stepped into herself—not because she was louder or flashier… but because she didn't have to fight the world just to exist in it anymore.

"Switch!" Erwin called.

Another cadet launched into the rotation, but the eyes on the field stayed mostly in one place.

Isabel elbowed Farlan from where they waited for their turn. "She's a star now."

"She always was," Farlan said softly.

Then, more to himself: "She just finally stopped apologising for it."

Beatrice sat on the grass, goggles now pulled up to rest against her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, a few strands of white hair stuck to her temple, and a soft sheen of sweat glistened at her collar. She looked content. Tired in a good way.

Levi approached, wiping down his gear blades with a cloth. He didn't speak right away. Just stood beside her, looking out over the field where others still practiced.

"You moved better today," he said finally.

"I felt better."

"You weren't distracted."

"I could see," she murmured. "It was… easier to trust my body." Then smiled. Soft. Timid. But whole.

She looked up at him. "Thanks for fighting me yesterday."

"Tch." He looked away, cravat shifting slightly. "Don't get used to it."

"Too late."