Chapter Text
Levi had been standing there for fifteen minutes.
He knew because the light from the west window had shifted two inches across the floorboards, and because Erwin had already covered supply efficiency, drill improvements, and casualty projections before circling back to what he actually wanted to discuss.
Levi kept his hands clasped behind his back and stared at the wall just behind Erwin.
“…which is why I am not questioning your competence,” Erwin was saying now, calm as ever.
Of course he wasn’t. There was nothing to question.
Levi had tightened the rotation schedules. Reduced wasted rations. Corrected three instructors who had grown complacent. The scouts moved sharper already. Faster.
That wasn’t the problem.
“The issue,” Erwin continued, “is proportional response.”
Levi’s jaw shifted, just slightly.
He didn’t bother pretending confusion. They had already gone over it. The reports. The complaints. The phrase hostile leadership used twice in two separate statements.
All because of a fucking latrine.
Levi could still smell it if he let himself think about it. Ammonia and shit. Human waste ground into stone by boots that should have known better. A trough left unflushed. Someone had tried to rinse it with a bucket and called it done.
He had walked in after evening drills and stopped cold.
It wasn’t about comfort. He had lived in far worse conditions. The Underground had cured him of delicate sensibilities before he was old enough to spell them. But this was different. These were soldiers. Scouts. They were supposed to be the clean edge of the blade, not the grime that dulled it.
He’d lined them up. All of them. Made them look at it.
Then he’d handed them brushes.
Six hours later, it still hadn’t been right.
“You have tightened every standard at once,” Erwin said calmly. “You increased drill time, restructured squad assignments, revised inspection schedules, and then yesterday you held an entire barracks under confinement for sanitation failure.”
Levi kept his gaze fixed somewhere just above Erwin’s shoulder. He didn’t bother pretending the word failure didn’t irritate him.
“It wasn’t just failure. It was laziness," he said.
Erwin waited.
“There was shit on the floor,” Levi continued, voice flat. “Piss on the wall behind the trough. If they can’t manage that, they can’t manage a perimeter.”
Erwin’s expression did not change.
“So I made them clean it,” Levi added. “Properly.”
“For six hours,” Erwin said.
“If they’d done it right, it wouldn’t have taken that long.”
Erwin’s blue eyes held steady. “They said you threatened to dock rations.”
“No. I threatened to make them eat in there.”
A flicker of something almost like amusement crossed Erwin’s face. Almost.
“You did not follow through?”
“No.” Levi shifted his weight slightly. The only crack in an otherwise rigid posture.
Erwin scanned a page. “And you told them that you would not tolerate ‘pigs in uniform.’”
Levi’s lip twitched faintly.
“I wouldn’t give a damn what condition they left it in,” he said evenly, “if I wasn’t forced to share the damn thing with them.”
That, finally, pulled Erwin’s eyes up from the paper.
Levi met his gaze this time. “If I have to step around someone else’s shit, I’m going to correct the problem.”
“They reported feeling embarrassed,” Erwin said.
“They should be.”
“Maybe, but it was not only embarrassing, Levi. They felt humiliated.”
Levi’s jaw tightened.
Erwin was quiet for a moment.
“You are not wrong about standards,” he said at last. “But you are Captain now. Your anger sets the temperature of the room.”
Levi didn’t answer. Because it hadn’t been anger.
It had been a sharp, crawling irritation under his skin. The sense that if he didn’t clamp down hard and fast, it would spread.
He’d seen what it would spread into. Carelessness. Laziness.
“They need to trust you. Not simply obey you,” Erwin said.
Levi’s eyes shifted slightly.
Before Erwin could dismiss him, a sudden thud slammed against the office door, the impact making the hinges rattle.
Levi didn't flinch. He had learned, over the last few months, to recognize certain disasters by sound alone.
A body colliding with a solid wooden door at full speed had a very specific note to it.
He closed his eyes and muttered, “Four-Eyes.”
There was a stunned pause on the other side.
“Minor miscalculation,” came a muffled voice. “Depth perception failure. I’m fine.”
There was a quick shuffle followed by a sharp inhale.
Knock. Knock.
Erwin’s tone remained even. “Come in.”
The door opened too fast, then jerked back as if it had almost taken another hit.
The eccentric brunette stepped inside, already pushing her glasses up her nose. A faint red mark bloomed high on her forehead.
“Apologies,” she said briskly. “I misjudged the frame. It appeared farther away.”
Levi stared at her without expression.
She smelled faintly of leather oil, sweat, and something less identifiable that hovered somewhere between stable yard and unwashed field jacket. Perpetually windblown. Perpetually smudged. Perpetually on the verge of either a breakthrough or bodily harm.
Most of the regiment called her unhinged behind her back.
Levi didn’t bother with the whispering.
She was a lunatic. That much was undeniable.
The difference was, she never flinched under the label. If she noticed it at all, she treated it like background noise.
Hange Zoë, in his professional opinion, was a complete weirdo.
She stared at Titans like they were puzzles to be solved instead of monsters that chewed through people. She chased them with the enthusiasm most soldiers reserved for hot meals. She talked too much. She invaded personal space. She had once attempted to grab his hand mid-conversation to “observe callus density” without warning.
And she was the only person in this building who did not look at him like he was either a weapon or a problem to manage.
He did not know her well. Had not spent any meaningful time with her. But she had introduced herself the first week he arrived without hesitation or calculation. Asked him questions like she wanted actual answers. Laughed at his silence like it was a funny joke, not a rejection.
She had knocked on his door the week he took command. Brought tea, unprompted. Said her congratulations.
It had irritated him.
There was something about her he could not sort properly. Something that snagged at his attention in a way that was not strictly annoyance.
That alone put him on edge.
Now, her eyes swept the room. They landed on him and sharpened. “Oh,” she said, not surprised or even intimidated as he would have expected. No, she was absolutely delighted.
Her gaze moved over him in open assessment in a way that was not subtle. At all.
Levi felt it like a physical touch.
“Hello, Levi. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she said, as if forming some kind of theory.
He didn’t answer. She stepped closer anyway. Erwin did not intervene.
Hange tilted her head slightly, studying him like a specimen pinned to cork.
Levi’s eye twitched.
“Back up,” he said flatly.
She didn’t. Instead, she leaned in a fraction more, peering at him through her lenses.
“Fascinating,” she murmured. “Your center of gravity must be extraordinary. Have you ever measured your vertical acceleration output?”
“No.”
“Ooh. We should do that.”
“No. We shouldn’t.”
Her brows raised just slightly at the firmness in his tone. Then she smiled wider.
“I’ve read the reports,” she went on brightly. “Your kill counts. Your maneuvering patterns. Your stamina retention during extended engagements. I’ve been meaning to—”
“Hange.”
Erwin’s voice cut cleanly through her momentum.
She straightened. “Yes, Erwin?”
“Did you need something?” He asked.
“Right. Yes.” She straightened now, energy snapping into focus as she shifted from him to Erwin. “I came to go over my request,” she said, already halfway through the thought.
Erwin inhaled once. “Which request are you referring to?”
“The one about a live Titan specimen.”
Levi’s jaw tightened. She said it like she was asking for extra ink.
She launched into it before Erwin could respond. “I’ve reworked the restraint design. If we anchor the chain lower and account for rotational force, we can significantly reduce the risk of structural collapse during agitation. I also adjusted the feeding interval hypothesis—”
“Hange.” Erwin’s tone was calm but final.
She stopped mid-sentence.
Erwin folded his hands. “We will discuss this when I finish here.”
Her eyes flicked between them, sharp beneath the chaos. She took in the distance between Levi and the desk. The set of his shoulders. The way Erwin’s hands were positioned just so.
“Oh,” her head tilted slightly. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt a disciplinary meeting?”
Levi’s expression did not change.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying the room like it was a puzzle. “Your posture is very stiff. And Levi looks… more irritated than usual.”
“I’m not—” Levi started.
“Oh, sorry—Captain Levi, I meant,” she corrected quickly, almost cheerfully. “Still getting used to that. Sounds good on you though.”
The word captain sounded different in her mouth. Not stiff or strategic. It was warm and friendly. Like she meant him. Not the rank.
He didn’t know what to do with that, he only knew that he did not like it.
“None of your damn business,” he said flatly.
She grinned at him like he had said something amusing. “I’ll assume that’s a yes.”
“It’s not.” Levi shifted slightly, already half done with this.
“You’re not actually angry,” she said suddenly, as if noting a data point.
Levi stared at her.
“I was told you were an angry person, but your response isn't anger,” she said.
“Tch,” was all he could come up with.
“Hm.” She leaned back on her heels, considering him. “That’s very interesting.”
Levi felt irritation coil at the base of his spine.
She wasn’t afraid of him. She wasn’t even cautious. She looked at him like he was a locked mechanism she intended to dismantle.
Levi’s brows furrowed as she leaned slightly toward him, lowering her voice as if sharing a confidential observation. “I think you look more offended than anything else. Like someone criticized your cleaning standards.”
His eyes narrowed. “How’d you know about that?”
“Moblit may or may not have mentioned a certain incident involving a latrine.”
She did not look bothered, or like she thought he had been cruel. Just curious.
“I’m assuming it was catastrophic,” she added. “You don’t just mobilize six-hour corrective sanitation for minor splatter.”
Levi stared at her. “It shouldn't be too much to expect them to know how to fucking aim.”
Hange’s expression did not shift into mockery or dismissal. In fact, it sharpened.
“Oh,” she said, nodding once. “No, that’s a very valid concern.”
Levi stared at her.
She lifted one finger, already organizing her thoughts. “I read an article a few years ago from a physician in Mitras. He documented infection clusters in some of the lower districts that traced directly back to improper waste management. Fecal contamination in shared facilities, cross-contact on door handles, boot transfer… It spreads faster than people think.”
He felt a faint, grim satisfaction settle in his chest.
She was exactly right.
“If you’re living, training, and eating in tight quarters, one careless scout can compromise an entire unit before you even leave the Walls," she finished.
He folded his arms, looking her over with more interest.
“So yes,” she said simply. “Sanitation isn’t trivial.”
For one brief moment, she sounded perfectly rational.
Then her eyes brightened, and she opened her mouth again. “I was so intrigued by that paper that I conducted a crude comparative experiment of my own.”
Levi’s gaze sharpened. “What?”
“On fecal composition across species,” she said, as if discussing something trivial. “Different diets produce different bacterial survival rates. I collected samples. Human, equine, swine. Moisture retention varies significantly, which affects pathogen longevity.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“You collected shit?” He repeated, flat and in disbelief.
“Yes.”
He pictured it immediately. Buckets. Labels. Notes in her cramped handwriting. A shelf somewhere full of neatly categorized shit like it was a traveling exhibit.
It was revolting. Completely revolting.
He could see her doing it too. Sleeves shoved up. Glasses sliding down her nose. Squatting beside a bucket with clinical focus, muttering about moisture retention and bacterial survival like she was discussing wine.
Tch.
Of course Hange, the four-eyed weirdo, would hear “fecal contamination” and think, I should go collect some.
A dry, unwilling sort of amusement pressed at the back of his throat. The corner of his mouth twitched before he could stop it. He flattened it instantly.
“You’re storing piles of shit,” he said, voice dry as stone, “for fun?”
“For science,” she corrected before a cheeky grin spread across her face. “Maybe just a little dash of fun on the side.”
He dragged a hand down over his mouth in an attempt to steady his expression back into something appropriately disgusted.
Ridiculous woman.
Although, and he would never tell her this, if she ever did present a formal lecture titled Comparative Shit Retention Across Species, he would absolutely sit through the whole thing.
“Tch. Disgusting,” he muttered.
Erwin, after quietly observing the entire exchange, finally cleared his throat.
Hange straightened immediately. “Right. I’ll come back later. I didn't mean to interrupt your… discussion.”
Levi’s jaw ticked. He shifted his weight slightly. “Try not to run into any more doors.”
She blinked, then laughed. Not a polite chuckle either. A bright, unrestrained sound.
Heat rose faintly at the back of his neck.
“Very sound advice. You can never be too careful,” she said. “But don’t worry. The door remains structurally sound.” She adjusted her glasses and stepped backward toward the exit, noticeably more careful this time. “I’ll let you two finish your meeting that is not at all disciplinary. But for what it’s worth, I doubt anyone will ever forget how to use a trough again.”
There it was again. That personal, warm tone.
“Shut up,” he said automatically.
She beamed at him.
There was just something about her he did not have a word for. It wasn’t softness or weakness. Not even kindness in the way most people meant it.
It was how deliberate she was. She chose to step closer. She chose not to recoil. There was nothing accidental about it. No obliviousness. No reckless stupidity.
She saw exactly what he was and decided it was worth approaching anyway.
He didn’t yet understand why that unsettled him more than open hostility ever had.
“I’ll see you later, Captain,” she said, slipping out and closing the door with exaggerated care.
Silence settled back over the office.
Levi kept his eyes on the wood for a moment longer. Then, finally, he exhaled slowly through his nose.
She was a lunatic. A filthy, obsessive, shit-collecting lunatic.
…But not wrong.
- - -
Hange paced the length of the corridor for the third time, boots scuffing faintly against the stone.
“If we anchor the lower chain to a reinforced ground post instead of relying on wall tension,” she muttered to herself, gesturing vaguely in the air, “we reduce lateral swing by at least thirty percent. And if the restraint collar is counterweighted—no, no, that won’t account for rotational torque if it starts thrashing clockwise first…”
She stopped abruptly, pivoted, and paced back the other way.
Erwin just needed to see it. Once he saw the sketches, the load calculations, the projected behavior curves, he would understand.
Just imagine a live Titan. A controlled specimen. Months of guesswork could be replaced by actual data.
Her pulse kicked with anticipation.
“I could monitor its behavioral patterns in real time,” she continued under her breath. “Feeding responses. Regeneration intervals under different stress stimuli. Oh, that would be—”
She bounced lightly on her heels, adjusting her glasses.
The office door remained closed.
She leaned closer to it, not quite pressing her ear against the wood, but near enough to be tempted.
A low voice drifted down the corridor. “I thought I smelled something unusual.”
Hange perked up instantly. “Miche!”
He rounded the corner with that easy, deliberate stride of his tall frame filling the hallway. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took another measured breath. He tilted his head slightly. “I caught your scent from all the way down the stairs.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
He studied her face more closely. “Haven't seen you around much.”
“I’ve been busy,” she said brightly. “Very busy. For one thing, I finalized a revised containment plan for a live Titan.”
His brow lifted slightly.
“And,” she barreled on, words picking up speed, “I’ve been recalculating chain tolerances for rotational force, because the last model would absolutely shear under sustained agitation. I had to redraw the anchor schematics twice. Then I’ve been cross-referencing old expedition logs to track patterns that weren’t properly cataloged at the time.”
She gestured vaguely with both hands as if the data were floating in the air between them.
“And I’ve been reviewing medical journals on waste transmission patterns,” she continued, “which led to a comparative bacterial study that I may or may not have conducted in a shed outside the east perimeter. For accuracy.”
Miche did not interrupt.
“And I’m drafting a proposal on nutrient deprivation and regeneration delay,” she added, barely pausing for breath. “If we can quantify how long a Titan can function without feeding stimuli, that changes capture protocol entirely. Oh, and I’ve been helping Moblit re-sort the tissue samples from the last expedition because someone mislabeled femoral fragments as scapular—”
She stopped only because she had to inhale.
Miche stared at her. He leaned down a fraction, studying her eyes.
“You don't look like you've slept much,” he said.
“I have,” she replied quickly. “Just not recently.”
He leaned closer, studying the faint shadows beneath her eyes. “Yeah. You look like you’re running on fumes.”
“I’m running on purpose,” she corrected.
“Hange.”
“I’ll sleep later.”
Miche’s expression did not change, but there was weight behind his gaze. “You should probably eat. And sleep. And take a bath. You smell like it’s been a while.”
She paused, then discreetly lifted one arm and sniffed. “…I could probably go another day or two.”
"No," Miche shook his head slowly. “Not really.”
She lowered her arm.
“Well,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, “I may have been slightly preoccupied.”
He almost smiled. “You should do something other than working on your experiments. Spend some time with friends.”
She laughed at that. “No one I consider a friend wants to hang out with me, Miche.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, but it is. I invite people to look at tissue samples and they suddenly remember prior commitments.”
Before he could answer, the office door opened. Levi stepped out first, expression hard as stone.
Miche’s gaze slid to him. “Well, if it isn’t short stuff.”
Levi’s head snapped slightly in his direction. “Fuck off.”
Hange watched the exchange.
Miche only shrugged. “More temperamental than usual today, I see.”
“You try living with pigs,” Levi muttered, already moving past them.
Erwin appeared in the doorway behind him. “Miche. Did you bring the paperwork?”
“I did.”
“Good. Please, come in.”
Erwin’s eyes shifted briefly to Hange. “Would you mind waiting a little longer?”
She straightened immediately. “Of course not.”
Erwin nodded once and stepped aside. Miche followed him in, ducking slightly through the frame.
The door closed. Hange stood there for half a second. Then she resumed pacing.
“If we adjust the collar tension by even five degrees…” she muttered, energy snapping back into place.
Inside the office, Erwin accepted the folder from Miche without a word and opened it immediately, scanning the figures with his usual surgical focus.
Miche watched him for a moment. “So, you dealt with the latrine uprising.”
Erwin turned a page. “I did.”
Miche huffed softly. “The little guy’s been wound so tight lately, I’m surprised the door didn’t splinter when he walked out.”
Erwin’s eyes flicked up briefly. “He has been more stressed than usual.”
“Yeah, Nanaba and I have both seen it,” Miche said. “He snaps faster. Pushes harder. The recruits are actually scared of him.”
Erwin closed the folder and set it aside with care. “He is adjusting to command,” he said. “His position carries weight. Expectations change. Scrutiny increases. Besides that, he holds himself to a severe standard. It is unsurprising he extends it outward.”
Miche considered that. “You think it’s the pressure?”
“I think,” Erwin replied, folding his hands, “that he feels the responsibility of every life under his command.”
Miche hummed.
“I was considering giving him a few days off,” Erwin added. “After the next drill cycle.”
“Time off, huh?” Miche repeated thoughtfully.
“A brief reprieve. Distance can restore perspective. Fatigue accumulates in ways men do not always recognize.”
Miche was quiet for a moment. Then he snorted softly. “You know what would adjust his perspective faster than time off?”
Erwin did not immediately respond.
Miche folded his arms loosely. “Getting laid.”
Erwin regarded him evenly.
“It is not within my authority,” he said at last, “to order Captain Levi to engage in sexual relations.”
Miche barked a low laugh. “I suppose not.”
Erwin’s gaze shifted toward the desk, where a second stack of parchment waited. Thicker. Heavier. “And I currently have neither the time nor the inclination to draft such a directive.”
Erwin’s eyes moved to the sealed invitation resting atop the pile. “The funding banquet is in twelve days,” he said.
Miche’s expression sobered a fraction.
“I am fielding formal complaints regarding sanitation,” Erwin continued, “while simultaneously reviewing three separate requests from Section Commander Hange that require structural assessment, supply reallocation, and political justification.”
Miche snorted.
“She has submitted a revised containment proposal, two reinforcement diagrams, and an itemized materials list.”
“I’m not the least bit surprised,” Miche said.
“And while both of them press their respective agendas,” Erwin went on evenly, “I am expected to convince a room of nobles that we deserve additional funding.”
He adjusted the stack of correspondence at his elbow.
“That is on top of routine expedition planning, supply audits, disciplinary reviews, and managing the political fallout of our continued casualty reports.”
Miche let out a low breath.
Erwin’s gaze shifted briefly to the sealed invitation resting near the edge of his desk. “If Captain Levi were not generating disciplinary paperwork, and if Section Commander Hange were not submitting experimental requisitions every other day, I might have more uninterrupted hours to prepare for that dinner.”
“And if those two were… otherwise occupied?” Miche ventured.
Erwin’s eyes sharpened slightly. “I might regain several uninterrupted hours, which I would prefer to spend ensuring the survival of this regiment.”
Miche studied him. “So what are you thinking?”
“I am thinking that their energies are currently directed at me," Erwin said.
Miche’s grin returned slowly. “What if they were redirected… at each other?”
Erwin did not smile. “They are both highly capable,” he said. “Highly driven. Highly reactive.”
“And highly stressed.”
“True.”
Miche tilted his head. “You put them in proximity, give them a reason to cooperate, and maybe they’ll burn some of that off.”
Erwin’s fingers steepled lightly.
“If they were preoccupied with one another,” he said, almost musing, “their… extracurricular tensions might reduce the volume of paperwork reaching this desk.”
“And if they ended up screwing each other,” Miche added bluntly, “it’d probably do them both a lot of good.”
Erwin’s gaze held steady.
“As well as the rest of us. You’d get fewer complaints about Levi. Fewer requests from Hange. Everyone wins,” Miche finished.
Erwin gave him a look. “I am not endorsing that phrasing.”
It would not need to be long-term. The banquet required composure, negotiation, strategic presentation. He would need clear hours to refine his arguments, anticipate objections, review budget projections.
If Levi and Hange were otherwise occupied for the next twelve days…
Miche watched the calculation settle behind Erwin’s eyes. “You’re considering it?”
“I am considering whether structured collaboration between Levi and Hange could yield multiple benefits,” Erwin replied evenly
Miche’s grin widened. “Structured.”
“A temporary adjustment,” Erwin clarified. “Nothing that alters official policy.”
“You’re reconsidering your stance on relationships within the regiment?” Miche asked.
“Not exactly.” Erwin’s gaze sharpened faintly. “Captain Levi is motivated by personal comfort. Section Commander Hange is motivated by access to opportunity.”
“And you think that’ll work?”
Erwin allowed the smallest hint of a smile. “I believe that with the correct incentives, they will focus their considerable energies in a direction that does not involve submitting complaints or requisition forms.”
Miche let out a low, appreciative laugh. “You’re a dangerous man, Erwin.”
Erwin glanced toward the door.
“Twelve days,” he murmured.
Miche followed his gaze. “Poor bastards."
Erwin did not disagree.
Miche stepped out of the office with the same unhurried ease he carried everywhere, ducking slightly through the doorway.
He paused beside her. “You should try to take better care of yourself. Okay, Hange?”
“No promises.”
He shook his head once, then moved down the corridor, boots steady against stone.
She straightened instantly and slipped through the door.
Erwin stood near his desk, sleeves immaculate, posture effortless. The west light cut across the floorboards in a pale strip. She catalogued it automatically. Late afternoon. Good. He’d have time to think before evening briefings.
She was already reaching for the rolled diagrams tucked beneath her arm.
“So Hange,” Erwin began calmly. “About your proposal.”
Her pulse spiked. She crossed the room in three quick steps and unrolled the parchment across his desk, flattening the corners with practiced efficiency.
“I’ve revised the anchoring system,” she began. “The previous design relied too heavily on wall reinforcement. This time, the base is ground-driven. Lower center of gravity, less structural stress during agitation. I’ve also accounted for rotational torque if it attempts to pivot—”
Erwin listened without interrupting. That was one of the things she appreciated about him. He actually listened.
“If we capture a smaller specimen,” she continued, tapping a sketched measurement, “we can reduce chain length without sacrificing mobility. Controlled exposure. Controlled feeding intervals. Controlled observation.”
She looked up at him, eyes bright. “We can learn so much.”
Erwin’s gaze was steady, thoughtful.
“Hange,” he said gently, “you understand the political risk.”
“Yes.”
“The nobles already consider our expenditures excessive.”
“I realize that.”
“A live Titan within Wall territory will not reassure them.”
Her jaw tightened slightly. “They don’t understand what we’re up against. They fund gear and horses and expect miracles. We need data. We need to understand regeneration limits. Potential triggers. Behavioral patterns under confinement.”
Her fingers hovered over the parchment, trembling with contained energy. “If we can predict them better, we lose fewer people.”
That was the core of it. Always.
Erwin studied her.
“You have not been sleeping,” he observed.
She waved that away. “That’s irrelevant.”
“It is not irrelevant.”
“I’ll sleep after we secure a specimen.”
“Hange.”
She exhaled sharply and stepped back from the desk, folding her arms. “You sound like Miche.”
“He is correct.”
“He usually is,” she admitted, then shook her head. “But that’s not the point.”
She leaned forward slightly. “Erwin. If we wait for political comfort, we will always be behind. Every expedition costs us lives. A live Titan changes that equation.”
He did not immediately answer.
She felt the familiar mix of frustration and anticipation coil in her chest.
“I am declining your request at this time,” he said evenly.
The words landed clean. Hange did not flinch, but something in her shoulders tightened anyway. “At this time? So… maybe at a different time then?”
“At this time, the political climate does not favor additional risk.”
Her jaw worked once. “You’re worried about the banquet?”
“I am responsible for ensuring we are funded at all.”
She exhaled slowly through her nose. “Understood.”
She meant it. She just didn't like it.
Erwin watched her for a moment, then continued. “However, there is another matter I would like you to consider taking on as a sort of side project.”
Her brows lifted despite herself. “Another matter?”
“Yes. A study.”
That caught her attention instantly.
“Ooh… What kind of study?” She asked conspiratorially.
Erwin folded his hands. “I am considering reevaluating my policy regarding relationships within the regiment.”
She paused. “…You are?”
“Yes.”
Hange tilted her head slightly. “You have been firmly opposed to inner-scout entanglements for years.”
“I have been cautious. Emotional distraction can compromise operational readiness," he corrected.
“And you’re reconsidering that assessment…?”
“Not entirely. I am questioning whether my assessment is incomplete.”
Now she was fully alert. “Okay. I’m listening.”
He met her gaze steadily. “I am questioning whether my policy is incomplete. If that were true, how might we prove it?”
Hange’s eyes sharpened.
“You’d need a live model,” she said slowly.
And just like that, the experiment was hers.
Her mind ignited instantly. Controlled pairing. Performance metrics. Stress indicators. Response times. Unit cohesion shifts.
“That’s… wow. That would be quite the experiment,” she breathed.
“Can it be done by the benefit?” He asked.
Her thoughts raced.
“Hmm… getting it done by the benefit would give me twelve days,” she murmured. “Less if you account for preparation time... Which would really only give me a solid ten days to conduct the actual test…”
She began pacing without realizing it. “For clean data, at least one participant would need to be unaware of the experimental framing. If both are conscious subjects, behavior modification risk increases dramatically.”
Erwin said nothing. He simply observed her as she worked through her thoughts.
“I would need to participate directly,” she continued, thinking it through. “Otherwise, I’m observing through filters. And if I’m observing, they’re aware. That contaminates the results.”
She stopped pacing.
“Ten days,” she repeated thoughtfully.
The full spectrum of a relationship compressed. Initial attraction. Escalation. Physical engagement. Emotional variables. Dissolution.
It was tight.
But not impossible.
“I suppose it’s preferable to a long-term model,” she said. “Attachment probability decreases with duration limitation. If the parameters are clearly bounded, emotional fallout risk is minimized.”
Her pulse was quick now. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I think I can do it.”
Erwin inclined his head slightly. “You agree to conduct the experiment then?”
“I do.” She paused. “…Which leaves only one remaining component. Who should the blissfully unaware cadet be?”
“I have one in mind,” Erwin said smoothly.
She folded her arms, already calculating likely candidates. Compatibility variables. Physical stamina. Psychological resilience.
“Really? Who would that be?”
“Captain Levi.”
The name landed like a dropped blade. She had expected a cadet. Someone pliable. Someone she could measure cleanly.
Not him. Not the one person who already occupied more of her attention than she cared to quantify.
She stilled. “Oh… Levi?”
“Yes.”
Her first reaction was not scientific. It was heat.
Not abstract or theoretical. A sudden warmth that rose from her chest to her throat, sharp and unwelcome, settling beneath her skin before she could classify it. Her pulse jumped. Not with curiosity or analysis, but with something distinctly less tidy.
Followed immediately by doubt.
“He is unlikely to volunteer for something framed as experimental in this capacity,” she said carefully.
Erwin regarded her steadily. “He would not be given that context. He would believe the interaction to be genuine.”
Her brows knit slightly. “Are you suggesting I mislead him?”
“I am suggesting that you approach him sincerely.”
She held his gaze. “I don’t doubt that I could be genuine with him. I already am.”
That was the unsettling part.
“I find him… interesting,” she admitted, choosing the safest word available. “He’s disciplined. Controlled. Precise. He doesn’t waste movement. Or words.”
Erwin’s expression did not change.
“But this isn’t just conversation,” she continued. “This is intimacy. Physical intimacy. That’s not the same category of sincerity.”
Her pulse ticked higher just saying it aloud. “If I approach him under the premise of a relationship,” she said slowly, thinking through it as she spoke, “and that includes sexual engagement, then the sincerity has to extend there as well. Otherwise the data is useless.”
Erwin inclined his head slightly.
“You are not asking me to pretend attraction. You’re asking me to allow it to manifest. And then to observe it.” She exhaled. “That is… different.”
Not impossible. But different.
“And he would believe me,” she said, more to herself than to Erwin.
“Yes,” Erwin replied. “If you choose to pursue him, I have no doubt he would believe your interest was real.”
She considered that. “That’s another complication. He’s also very likely to be opposed to the idea of, well… me,” she added, more quietly,
Erwin’s gaze did not waver. “On what basis?”
She hesitated. “I am not the kind of person he seems likely to be attracted to.”
“Whether or not you can succeed at something has not deterred you before.”
She almost laughed. “This is slightly different from other experiments I’ve run. Besides, he may not be inclined toward relationships of a sexual nature. I have no data on that variable.”
“Then I suppose you’ll have to collect it.”
Her mouth curved faintly despite herself. “He’s sure to be a difficult subject. He’s observant. Suspicious of everyone. Very closed off to affection of really any kind…”
She was already turning over variables in her mind when Erwin spoke.
“If you conduct this experiment,” he said, cutting through her thoughts, “and present me with your findings at the conclusion of the ten days, I will personally advocate at the benefit for the allocation of funds toward a live Titan capture.”
Her pulse spiked. “You will?”
“I will.”
Silence stretched between them.
A live Titan.
Not a theoretical approval. Not a deferred discussion.
A real chance. All in exchange for ten days of structured entanglement with Captain Levi.
She studied Erwin for a long moment. Her mind raced through it again, searching for flaws. There were many. There were always many. But the data potential… And the opportunity…
Her pulse would not settle. This was not like measuring regeneration rates or tensile stress. There would be no clean baseline. No controlled emotional variable.
If she miscalculated here, the damage would not be structural.
It would be personal.
Hange stared at him, and for a moment her mind did something deeply inconvenient.
It stopped running.
This was her chance at a live Titan.
But the word Levi lingered heavier than the promise.
She had catalogued his discipline. His precision. The way he held tension like it was a structural support beam. She had told herself it was observational interest. Scientific curiosity. A compelling variable.
That was only partly true.
She remembered the way his eyes had sharpened when she validated the sanitation concern. The way he had told her not to run into doors as if he had noticed the mark on her forehead long before he acknowledged it aloud. The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth when she’d admitted to collecting samples.
She had catalogued that twitch.
But this time it did not feel like a data point. It felt like warmth. Quick and sharp, rising under her ribs before she could file it under anything useful.
She swallowed.
If she miscalculated a restraint system, someone died. If she miscalculated this, it would not break stone or chain. It would break something in her that did not heal cleanly.
Erwin was still watching her, patient as ever, giving her exactly enough rope to hang herself with, if she chose.
Hange forced her thoughts back into a line. She could do this. She had done harder things. She had walked into Titan territory with less hesitation than this. The difference was that Titans never looked at her like Levi had.
She drew in a slow breath.
“Very well,” she said, voice steady enough to pass for science. “I’ll design the framework.”
Erwin inclined his head once. “Good.”
As she turned toward the door, her thoughts were no longer on nobles or budgets. They were on dark eyes a sharp tongue. and immaculate standards.
- - -
The mess hall was loud and smelled like overcooked cabbage and sweat.
Levi sat alone at the far end of a table, back to the wall, tray aligned perfectly with the wood. He ate without looking up, movements precise and controlled.
A heavy weight dropped onto the bench across from him.
Miche.
“You look like you’re about to stab someone,” Miche said pleasantly.
Levi didn’t bother lifting his head. “Probably should focus on eating then.”
Miche snorted softly. “You’ve been wound tight for weeks.”
Levi chewed once, swallowed. Said nothing.
“It can’t be healthy,” Miche continued. “Keeping that much tension pent up.”
Levi’s fork paused. He lifted his eyes slowly. “You offering medical advice now?”
“No. I’m offering common sense,” Miche said, taking a bite.
“Tch. If you say so,” Levi muttered.
Miche leaned back. “There are better ways to find release than terrorizing cadets over latrines.”
Levi’s gaze sharpened. “Seemed pretty sufficient to me.”
Miche’s mouth twitched. “I’m only saying you could try using another way.”
Levi gave him a blank look. “Spit it out.”
Miche tilted his head slightly. “Women.”
Levi stared at him, utterly unimpressed.
“Ah, I forgot,” Miche added mildly. “You don’t know how to talk to them.”
Levi set his fork down carefully. “I talk to women just fine.”
Miche gave him a look as thought he highly doubted that claim.
“I do,” Levi snapped.
“You glare. That’s not talking.”
“Works just fine for me.”
“For intimidation, maybe. Not for romance.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck said anything about romance?”
“That’s what we’ve been talking about.” Miche leaned back, studying him. “How about this: I’ll give you half a day’s pay if you go talk to one of them. You know, nicely.”
Levi let out a short, humorless scoff. “Go to hell.”
“I’m trying to help you.” Miche replied.
“You can start by shutting up.”
Erwin’s shadow fell across the table. “Good evening,” he said smoothly as he sat down.
Levi grunted something that might have passed for acknowledgement.
Miche nodded. “Commander.”
Erwin glanced between them. “Should I ask what’s going on?”
“No,” Levi said flatly.
Miche didn’t hesitate. “Levi’s in a mood because he doesn’t know how to talk to women.”
Levi’s head snapped toward him. “That's not…the fuck? No.”
Erwin’s gaze settled on him.
Miche leaned an elbow on the table. “I told him I’d give him half a day’s pay if he’d go talk to one of the female scouts right now.”
Levi’s lip curled. “Go fuck yourself.”
“See?” Miche said to Erwin. “Too shy.”
Levi gave him a sideways look. “Not shy. Eating.”
Erwin took a measured sip of water. “I might be interested in raising the stakes.”
Both men snapped their attention to the commander.
“What?” They said in unison.
“If you are so confident,” Erwin continued evenly, “perhaps we could formalize the matter.”
Levi narrowed his eyes. “No.”
Miche’s grin widened.
Erwin folded his hands. “Captain.”
Levi hated when he used that tone.
“If you can keep a woman romantically satisfied for, let’s say, ten days…” Erwin continued, calm as ever
Levi stared at him.
“…I would be willing to secure a private room for you. With a private washroom.”
The noise of the mess hall seemed to dull for half a second.
A private washroom? No shared trough. No morons missing their target.
Levi’s eyes dropped to his plate.
Ten days.
He looked back at Erwin. “You’re serious?”
“I am.”
Levi leaned back slightly, studying the man.
“You’re the one with the policy against relationships in the regiment,” he said flatly. “Now you’re offering rewards for it?”
Erwin’s expression did not shift. “Policies can be evaluated.”
“Tch. That’s convenient.”
“It would be temporary,” Erwin replied. “And conditional.”
Miche let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of an incentive.”
Levi clicked his tongue. “You want me to parade around like some idiot so I don’t have to step in someone else’s piss? While you, what? Pretend you didn’t write half a dozen memos about how entanglements weaken cohesion or whatever dumb shit it was?”
“I wrote those memos before I had reason to reconsider certain variables,” Erwin said.
Levi clicked his tongue. “You just wanna see if I can do it.”
“I want to see whether your confidence matches your dismissal,” Erwin corrected
Miche let out a low laugh. “He’s calling you out.”
Levi shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
Erwin continued as though neither of them had spoken. “What do you say, Captain? A private room. A private washroom. No shared facilities. No communal sanitation failures.”
Levi held his gaze.
Ten days of pretending to be charming in exchange for never stepping into a piss-soaked trench again.
His jaw shifted.
He could endure worse for less.
“You’re serious?” He said again, quieter this time.
“I am.”
Levi held his gaze a long moment. Then he scoffed softly. “This is stupid.”
“Is it?” Erwin asked mildly.
“You’re gambling discipline on a distraction.”
“I am testing discipline,” Erwin replied.
Miche leaned forward. “So that’s a yes?”
“No,” Levi’s eyes flicked to him. “It’s a no. I’m not playing some pathetic game so you two can entertain yourselves.”
Miche leaned forward. “So you admit you can’t?”
Levi’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” Miche inquired.
Levi pushed his tray an inch forward. “I don’t need a woman to fix my mood,” he said coldly. “And I don’t need you two managing my sex life.”
Miche smirked. “Sure.”
Levi stood. The bench legs scraped against stone. A few nearby scouts glanced over and then very quickly pretended not to.
Erwin remained seated, posture relaxed, hands folded loosely near his tray.
“As you wish,” he said evenly.
Levi adjusted his cuffs with sharp, efficient movements.
Miche leaned back, arms folding behind his head. “I’d have bet on him lasting three days at most.”
Levi shot him a look.
Erwin’s voice remained calm. “If you change your mind, the offer stands.”
Levi paused mid-turn, just for a fraction of a second.
“I won’t,” he said flatly.
“Very well,” Erwin replied.
Levi started walking.
Behind him, Miche called casually, “Ten days isn’t that long, short stuff.”
Levi didn’t slow. “Find someone else to pimp out,” he muttered over his shoulder.
He didn’t look back. But the thought followed him all the way out of the mess hall.
Private room. Private washroom. Ten days.
He scowled harder.
Tch.
Annoying bastards.
- - -
The corridor outside the barracks was quiet by the time Levi returned. Most of the scouts had already turned in. A few low voices drifted through the doors. Laughter. Someone coughing.
Levi ignored it.
With a towel and soap in hand, he pushed open the washroom door.
The smell hit first. Not as catastrophic as the previous day, but close enough.
Levi stopped just inside the threshold. He didn’t need to look. But he did anyway.
Stale piss. Damp stone. Something sour under it. Someone had missed again. Not a splash. Not an accident. Missed completely.
Unbelievable.
The trough was half-flushed. A smear down the inner stone where someone had either missed or not cared. A damp footprint tracked across the floor. Mud ground into the grout near the basins.
His jaw shifted as he stepped farther in. His boots avoided the worst of it automatically. Years of practice.
He stood there another second, just inside the threshold, letting his eyes take inventory the way they always did. Not because he wanted to. Because if he didn’t, the disorder crawled.
A wet arc along the base of the trough. Not accidental. Deliberate carelessness. The kind that said, Someone else will deal with it. A smear down the inner stone like a lazy signature. The floor was dark in patches where water had been left to sit. The rag in the corner that might as well have been an insult.
He stepped toward the basins and stopped again.
Mud in the grout. At least, he hoped it was mud.
He stared at it, and his mind did what it always did when faced with things that should have been corrected before he ever had to see them.
It built the sequence.
Boiling water. Soap. Fresh bucket. Brush with bristles that weren’t split. Ten minutes to scrub the trough lip properly. Another ten for the floor. A clean rinse. A dry wipe. A check for residue. An end state that didn’t make him feel like he needed to peel his skin off.
He could do it himself.
That was the sick part. He could already feel his hands moving, already feel the irritation settling into purpose, like a command. The regiment would wake up to clean stone and think it fixed itself. They would learn nothing.
His jaw tightened as Erwin’s voice slid in again, calm and infuriating.
“Your anger sets the temperature of the room.”
This wasn’t anger. This was incompetence.
“Tch.”
He crossed to the storage cabinet and opened it.
Empty bucket. One cracked brush. No soap. He stared at the shelf for a long second. They’d used it all. And hadn’t replaced it.
His jaw shifted once.
The irritation came first. Then the itch. Under his skin. Behind his eyes. The sense of disorder pressing in on him. He could clean it himself. It would take an hour. Maybe two. He would do it right.
He imagined waking before dawn and stepping into a room that wasn’t soaked in someone else’s stupidity. He imagined not having to inspect a trough before brushing his teeth. He imagined quiet. Private.
Ten days.
He set his towel down very carefully on the one dry surface left.
Then he picked it back up.
No fucking way. Absolutely not.
He shut the cabinet harder than necessary, the sound echoed against the stone.
He turned on his heel and walked out.
Someone looked up as he passed through the barracks. Levi didn’t slow. Boots struck stone with sharp, efficient rhythm down the corridor.
He didn’t knock. He opened Erwin’s office door without waiting.
Erwin looked up from behind his desk. Lamp light cut sharp lines across the papers in front of him. “Captain.”
Levi shut the door behind him.
“It’s disgusting,” he said flatly.
Erwin did not pretend confusion. “The washroom.”
“There’s a streak on the wall,” Levi replied. “They used the last of the soap. Didn’t replace it. Floor’s soaked. Again.”
“I see.” Erwin folded his hands. “You were offered an alternative.”
Levi stared at him.
Silence stretched.
Erwin did not rush it.
“You said ten days,” Levi said at last. “Romantically satisfied.”
“Yes.”
Levi’s lip twitched faintly. “Define that.”
“She must remain willingly engaged. No coercion. No threats. No leveraging rank. Genuine participation.” Erwin replied calmly.
Levi gave him a flat look. “You think that’s how I operate?”
“I think you prefer efficiency,” Erwin replied.
Levi ignored that. “And the room?”
“If you accept the wager, you will be moved immediately.”
Levi’s eyes flicked up.
“The new quarters are prepared,” Erwin continued. “Your belongings can be relocated in the morning. Or tonight, if you prefer.”
Prepared?
Levi’s eyes flicked, almost involuntary, to Erwin’s face, to the careful way everything in this office had a place.
Erwin didn’t prepare things on impulse. He prepared them because he expected a result.
So the room had never been an “if.” It had been a waiting mechanism, set like a snare on a trail Levi walked every day.
Levi felt the irritation flare, quick and bright, then compress into something colder. He’d offered a solution in the mess hall knowing Levi would hit the wall eventually. Knowing the washroom would do what it always did: wear him down.
Erwin watched him with that steady calm that made it impossible to tell if he was being generous or cruel.
Levi kept his face flat and said nothing.
“You would begin the ten-day period from tomorrow,” Erwin added. “The room is yours provisionally. Permanently reassigned upon successful completion.”
Levi’s jaw shifted once.
“Provisionally,” he said flatly.
“Yes.”
Silence stretched.
Levi looked at the west window. The fading light. “Any restrictions?”
“Within the regiment. Consensual. Discreet. No dereliction of duty.”
Levi’s gaze shifted back to him. “And if I decide it’s a waste of time?”
“Then you continue sharing the trough.”
A muscle ticked in Levi’s jaw. He pictured the grout. The boot print. Ten days. He could endure ten days of playing nice.
“And you stay out of it?” Levi said.
“I will not interfere. So long as it remains consensual and does not disrupt command structure, no.”
Levi’s gaze sharpened slightly. “I get to pick the woman,” he said.
Erwin did not hesitate. “No.”
Levi’s expression flattened further. “Excuse me?”
“I have someone in mind.”
Levi let out a short, humorless breath. “You’re stacking the deck.”
“It wouldn’t be much of a challenge if you got to choose the woman.”
“Tch.” Levi folded his arms. “Okay. Who is it?”
Erwin regarded him steadily. “We will discuss the specifics in the morning.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because,” Erwin replied evenly, “if I tell you tonight, you will spend the next several hours deciding whether you approve.”
Levi didn’t deny it.
“You asked for details. You will have them. In the morning.”
Silence stretched again.
He held Erwin’s gaze. “Fine,” he said at last. The word was clipped, reluctant. “I’ll hear it in the morning.”
Erwin inclined his head once. He opened the drawer of his desk and removed a small iron key. He set it on the wood between them.
“There you are, Captain,” he said evenly.
Levi stepped forward and picked it up. It was cool in his palm.
Ten days.
He turned toward the door. “We begin tomorrow?” he asked without looking back.
“Yes.”
Levi nodded once. “Have my things delivered tonight,” he said without looking back.
“It will be done. You understand,” Erwin added calmly, “that this is not a performance. It must be convincing.”
Levi glanced back over his shoulder.
“I don’t do anything half-assed,” he said.
Then he left.
As he stepped into the corridor, irritation coiled tight beneath his ribs.
Private room. Private washroom. Didn’t matter who she was. He could manage anyone for ten days.
Tch.
How hard could it be?