---
The grand, stone halls of the former castle that served as the Scout Regiment's headquarters echoed with an unfamiliar sound: the rhythmic scrape of a brush against stone, punctuated by a long, suffering groan.
Akira Nakamura, the Titan of Light, the man who had faced down monsters and stared into the abyss, was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. His entire body, still aching from injuries that would have killed any normal man ten times over, screamed in protest with every movement. The damp, cold stone did nothing to soothe his sore muscles.
"For fuck's sake," he muttered, the words a low growl that was lost in the vastness of the corridor. "I can punch a hole through a mountain, but this damn floor is going to be the death of me."
A quiet giggle escaped from a few feet away. Erin, also on her hands and knees with a rag, quickly covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "You know," she whispered, "if you spent less time complaining and more time scrubbing, you might actually be done by tomorrow."
Akira shot her a glare that could melt steel, but it had no heat. He couldn't stay mad at her. "Easy for you to say. You didn't get bitch-slapped across a district by a sixty-meter-tall steaming bastard."
"Oi."
The voice was sharp, cold, and utterly devoid of amusement. It cut through the air like one of his own blades. Both teens froze.
Standing at the end of the hall, with his arms crossed and a white kerchief tied neatly around his head, was the man humanity called its strongest soldier. His grey eyes, narrowed into slits, scanned the floor with a disgust usually reserved for the Titans themselves. "Is there a problem, Nakamura?"
Akira sighed, the fight draining out of him as he slumped back onto his heels. "No, Captain Levi. No problem at all."
"Good," the short man stated, his voice flat. He walked closer, his boots making sharp, clinical clicks on the stone. He stopped and crouched down, running a single, pristine finger over the patch of floor Akira had just scrubbed. He held it up, showing a barely visible smudge of dust. "This is pathetic. My grandmother could do a better job, and she's been dead for twenty years. Do it again."
From behind the Captain, another soldier with an undercut and a cravat tried to emulate his leader's stern demeanor. "You heard the Captain, brat! Put your back into it! This level of filth is simply unaccepta—GACK!" The man, Olou, bit his tongue with an audible crunch, a trickle of blood dripping from his lips as he stumbled.
Akira just stared, a single eyebrow raised. "You were saying?"
The orange-haired girl next to him, the one with kind, warm eyes, rushed forward. "Olou! Are you alright?" She handed him a handkerchief, her expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Honestly, when will you learn?"
"He won't," Akira said under his breath, earning another small giggle from Erin.
The kind-eyed girl turned to Akira, her voice soft. "You really should be resting, Akira. Your injuries..."
"Petra's right," Levi cut in, his gaze unwavering. "You should be resting. Which means you'll finish this twice as fast so you can get back to your bed. Now stop chit-chatting and clean. That goes for all of you." He turned and walked away, his green cape, emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom, flowing behind him. "And Nakamura," he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back, "you may be some kind of god out there on the battlefield. But in my castle, you're just another soldier with a dirty rag. Don't forget it."
Akira watched him go, a strange mix of annoyance and respect swirling inside him. He picked up his brush, the groan that escaped his lips this time a little less dramatic. "Alright, you damn floor," he grumbled. "You and me. Round two."
---
Just as he was starting to find a rhythm, a new kind of chaos erupted into the hall.
"THERE HE IS! I FOUND HIM!"
A figure burst into the corridor with the force of a cannonball. It was a woman with wild brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and a pair of thick goggles pushed up onto her forehead. Her eyes, wide and manic with a terrifying glee, were locked onto Akira like a predator spotting its prey.
"Hange-san!" Petra exclaimed, startled.
The woman, Hange, completely ignored her. She skidded to a halt in front of Akira, dropping to her knees and getting uncomfortably close, her nose practically touching his. Her eyes darted all over his body, from the fading bruises to the new, angry scar on his jaw.
"Fascinating!" she breathed, her voice a torrent of excited words. "Absolutely fascinating! The cellular regeneration must be off the charts! I saw the reports from the Trost battle—multiple fractures, severe internal hemorrhaging, third-degree burns from the transformation energy! Yet here you are, scrubbing floors! How does it feel? Is there a residual energy signature? What is your primary power source? Is it biological? Quantum? Can I PLEASE have a blood sample? Just a small vial! Maybe a tiny muscle tissue sample for comparison? We could learn so much!"
Akira, wide-eyed, scrambled backward, pressing himself against the wall like he was trying to phase through it. "Whoa, whoa, back up, four-eyes! Personal space!"
"Oh, don't be shy!" Hange cackled, lunging forward again, a syringe seemingly appearing from nowhere in her hand. "This won't hurt a bit! Well, it might hurt a lot, I haven't tested this needle on a demigod before, but it's all for science!"
"Get away from me, you crazy witch!" Akira yelled, trying to fend her off.
"He needs to rest."
The voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made even Hange freeze mid-lunge.
Standing at the entrance to the hall, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade and the iconic blue scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, was Mikasa. Her expression was placid, but her dark eyes held a storm. She walked forward, each step deliberate and silent, and positioned herself directly between the frantic scientist and Akira.
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to. "Section Commander Hange. He is injured. Leave him alone."
Hange looked from Mikasa's unblinking, deadly serious face to Akira, who was hiding behind her like she was a human shield. She let out a long, disappointed sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Aww, you're no fun, Mikasa! But fine," she said, pocketing the syringe with a pout. "But don't think this is over, Akira Nakamura! I have SO many questions for you!"
With that, she spun around and bolted down the hall, already muttering to herself about Titan biology and energy transference.
Akira peeked out from behind Mikasa, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Thanks, Mikasa. You're a lifesaver. That woman is terrifying."
Mikasa's expression softened as she looked at him. "I brought you some water," she said, holding out a canteen. "You look tired." Her gaze drifted to the new scar on his face, her fingers twitching as if wanting to reach out and touch it. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard."
"Tell that to the Captain," Akira grumbled, taking the water and drinking deeply. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the quiet hum of the castle around them a welcome relief.
---
Later that evening, the playful mood of the day was gone, replaced by the heavy silence of command. Akira stood in Commander Erwin's office. It was a sparse room, dominated by a large wooden desk and maps covering the walls. The only light came from a single oil lamp, casting long, dancing shadows.
Levi stood by the window, arms crossed, a silent sentinel cloaked in darkness. Erwin sat behind his desk, his large frame and calm, intelligent blue eyes giving him an aura of unshakable authority. He gestured for Akira to sit.
"Thank you for coming, Akira," the Commander began, his voice a calm baritone. "I'm sure you're aware that we are planning our next major operation: the 57th Expedition Beyond the Walls."
Akira nodded. "I'm ready."
"I know you are," Erwin said, a faint smile touching his lips. "But your role in this mission will be... unique. And difficult." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. The shadows made his face look like a carved mask of serious intent. "We now have two major assets: Erin's Titan ability, and you. The world outside the walls believes we only have one. We need to use that misinformation to our advantage."
He explained the Long-Distance Scouting Formation, a complex arrangement designed to minimize Titan encounters and maximize travel distance. He pointed to a position on the map, deep within the center-rear of the formation. "Erin will be here. We believe our true enemy—the person or people behind the Armored and Colossal Titans—will make a move to capture her. Our primary objective is to lure this enemy out and capture them."
"And me?" Akira asked, his voice low.
"You," Erwin said, his blue eyes locking onto Akira's, "are our ace. Our absolute last resort. You will not be in the main formation. You will ride in a separate, unmarked wagon within the supply train, out of sight. Your job is to observe, to stay hidden, and to trust in our plan. You are only to intervene, to transform, under two conditions."
He held up a finger. "One: A threat appears that is beyond the scope of a Titan. Another Kaiju, like the one you fought in Trost. A threat that only Ultraman can handle." He held up a second finger. "Two: I give you the direct order. If our plan to capture the enemy fails and the entire Regiment is facing annihilation, I will give the signal. Not before."
The weight of his words settled on Akira like a physical thing. He stared at the Commander, the implications crashing down on him. He had to stay back. He had to watch his friends, his comrades, his students, ride into danger, and do nothing. He had to trust in a plan, in formations and traps, when every fiber of his being screamed at him to be on the front lines, to be the shield for everyone else.
"You're asking me to let them fight, and possibly die, while I sit back and wait?" Akira's voice was tight, a low rumble of protest.
"I am asking you to trust them," Erwin corrected gently. "And to trust me. Your power is a sledgehammer, Akira. It is earth-shattering. But you cannot solve every problem by smashing it. Sometimes, we need a scalpel. This is one of those times. If we reveal you too early, we lose our greatest advantage. The enemy will know our full strength and will never fall into our trap. Can you do this? Can you place your faith in your comrades?"
Akira looked from Erwin's unwavering gaze to Levi's shadowed form by the window. This was a different kind of fight. It wasn't about power or strength. It was about control. Restraint. Faith. It was everything he wasn't good at.
He clenched his fist, the leather of his glove creaking. He took a deep breath, the air in the room thick with unspoken pressure.
"...Yes, Commander," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "I understand."
---
The moon was a silver sliver in a sea of endless stars. The night was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Akira's soul. He sat on the stone ledge of the castle's battlements, staring out into the darkness beyond the walls, the Commander's words echoing in his head.
Trust them.
How could he? His entire life, his entire being, was built around the idea that he had to be the one to protect others, because when he failed, people died.
He heard the soft crunch of boots on stone behind him but didn't turn. He knew who it was. The faint scent of soap and steel, and the quiet strength that always seemed to surround her.
Mikasa came to stand beside him, her blue scarf a comforting splash of color in the monochrome night. She didn't speak for a long time, just stood there, sharing the silence with him.
"You're troubled," she finally said, not as a question, but as a statement.
He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his light blue hair. "Erwin... he gave me my orders for the expedition." He couldn't tell her the details, but he could share the weight. "It's a difficult role, Mikasa. He's asking me to... hold back."
She was silent for a moment, processing that. She knew him better than anyone. She knew that telling him to hold back was like telling the sun not to shine. She looked at his face, at the familiar scar on his jaw, and then her eyes drifted to the new, thin scar that now marked her own cheek.
She reached out, her fingers gently tracing the line on her own skin. "In the hospital," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "you promised me you would live. That you wouldn't die, not until we win."
Akira turned to look at her, his blue eyes meeting her dark ones in the soft moonlight.
"You have to keep that promise, Akira," she continued, her gaze intense. She took a step closer, her hand leaving her own scar to gently take his. Her touch was warm, grounding. "But for you to live, you have to trust that we can live, too. You have to trust me. Trust Erin, Armin... all of us. We are not fragile. We are soldiers. We are your soldiers. Let us fight for you, for once."
Her words hit him harder than any Titan's punch. Faith. It always came back to faith. He looked at their joined hands, then back at her earnest, beautiful face. He saw the girl he had saved all those years ago, and the strong woman she had become. He saw his family.
A slow smile spread across his face, a genuine one that reached his eyes and eased the tension in his shoulders. He squeezed her hand. "You're right."
He stood up and, without another word, pulled her into a gentle hug. He rested his chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. He felt her arms wrap tightly around his waist, holding on as if he were an anchor in a storm. For the first time all day, the crushing weight on his chest lifted.
They stood there for a long time, under the vast, starry sky, two scarred survivors finding strength in each other, on the eve of a battle that would change everything.
---
•To Be Continue•
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(After a very long hiatus, finally, this story is continued, with help, of course, from my co-writers.)