Zeke's hand shot up instinctively, covering the back of his neck.
A chill ran through him, prickling every inch of skin. The sight before his eyes was absurd—this little man, barely 1.6 meters tall, standing among soldiers of the Survey Corps.
What the hell? Zeke screamed internally. In 845? He already enlisted?
He remembered their first encounter—five years later, in 850, when he led Marley's warriors to Paradis Island. That was supposed to be the beginning. That was when he first crossed paths with the devil named Levi.
But now?
He's already here.
Already in uniform.
Already looking like he'll cut me to pieces.
Zeke wanted to cry. His whole body felt like it was aching, as if phantom blades were slicing him into chunks again.
The Levi before him looked different from the legend he remembered. His face was still soft, youthful—almost baby-faced, with neat dark hair parted down the middle. He didn't yet have the cold aura of a commander. Instead, he carried the rough air of a street punk, the kind of thug who might carry a machete and shake down drunks in an alley.
But even so, the pressure was real. Before Levi even unsheathed his blades, Zeke felt that unbearable chill at his nape.
So cold. Too cold.
"Captain, why are you covering your neck?" Bertolt whispered, concerned.
"Captain?!" Reiner nearly choked. He slapped a hand over Bertolt's mouth.
"Shut up! Don't call him captain!"
"What should we call you then?" Annie asked, deadpan.
Zeke desperately wished for a third hand. One to cover his own neck, one to shush Reiner, and one to strangle Annie for asking stupid questions.
"…Call me brother!" he hissed.
"Oh."
"And listen—don't say a word unless absolutely necessary. The less you talk, the fewer mistakes you'll make. Understand?"
"Yes, brother!" the three answered in unison.
…
By then, Levi had gotten the briefing from Isabel and Fran. He rode closer, reins slack in his hand, sharp eyes sweeping the four figures in front of him.
Zeke stiffened. His muscles tensed.
Old memories—blood, broken bones, shredded flesh—crashed down on him like waves.
"Brats…" Levi muttered, voice low and irritated. His gaze flicked over the children in Zeke's arms. "I hate brats.
At this age, you're supposed to be running around the yard, not wandering outside the Wall."
"Yes! Exactly!" Zeke jumped in, forcing a laugh, desperate to sound natural. "At this age, they're restless. Always sneaking out! I came after them… and thank the gods I found them. Otherwise, I don't know how I'd face their parents!"
The three recruits squinted at him with identical looks of contempt. This guy…
Levi clicked his tongue. "Tch. Whatever. Give them one of the wagons carrying supplies. They'll ride with us."
Franzfrowned immediately. "But sir, bringing this many civilians—"
Levi's eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. "And what, leave them here to die? They'll ride. End of discussion."
No one argued after that.
"Thank you, Captain," Zeke said quickly, bowing his head.
Levi blinked. "Captain?" His expression twitched. He didn't correct him—he just turned away and rode off.
But Isabel tilted her head. "What are you talking about? Levi's not a captain. We've only been in the Corps for half a year.
He's still too green for that."
Zeke froze, embarrassment creeping up his neck. Still, he kept his smile plastered on like a mask.
Franzchuckled. "Oh, I get it! He just means Levi has potential! Right? He thinks our boss will make captain someday.
Honestly… I agree." His grin widened. "No! Not just captain. Commander. Marshal, even. A man above ten thousand!"
"…," Zeke thought.
Sorry, friend. He's never going higher than captain. Even at the end, after the Rumbling, he'll still be Captain Levi. Permanently.
Still, the thought comforted him. Some men spent their entire lives stuck at the same rank. Maybe, just maybe, that would be Levi's fate.
The "dog head" smile crept onto Zeke's lips.
…
A creak of wheels broke the tension. A supply wagon rolled forward, reins in the hands of another trooper.
"Lucky for you," Isabel said brightly, hopping off her horse with a mischievous grin, "we're logistics. Otherwise you'd have to walk."
"Thank you," Zeke said, his voice warm and brotherly. He carefully lifted the three "children" one by one into the wagon, playing the role of a protective elder sibling flawlessly.
With the civilians secured, the team moved on. Hooves clattered, wheels rumbled, and the group began their journey back toward the city.
For once, Zeke allowed himself a breath of relief.
Of all the possibilities, they'd stumbled into the Survey Corps returning home, not one departing on an expedition.
Luck was on their side.
For now.
…
At this point in time, Levi and his small gang of underground hooligans had only just been recruited by Erwin Smith into the Survey Corps. He wasn't yet humanity's strongest soldier. But to Zeke… even this younger version of Levi was already the nightmare he remembered.