A small crowd had gathered at a respectful distance, their faces pale. Captain Levi was on his knees in the churned mud, his pristine uniform darkened and soaked. Cradled in his lap was a figure in a bloodied Survey Corps jacket, their face obscured by his shaking hand.

Levi’s head was bowed, his shoulders rigid. The only movement was the terrible, steady seep of crimson through the fingers he had pressed against the wound.