The morning sun was barely cresting over Wall Rose, painting the Survey Corps headquarters in shades of pale gold and gray. In the training yard, the newest batch of graduates stood in rigid formation, their green cloaks still stiff with newness, their faces a mixture of pride and barely concealed terror. They'd survived training. Now they had to survive him.

The recruits stood frozen, barely breathing. Somewhere to the left, a cadet swallowed audibly. Levi's eyes narrowed at the sound, and he opened his mouth to continue when his gaze caught on something—someone—in the second row.

Time stopped.

There, standing in perfect formation, wearing the same green cloak and the same ridiculous hopeful expression as every other idiot who'd ever signed their own death warrant, was YN. His YN. The person who'd kissed him goodbye in their kitchen three days ago, who'd told him to be careful out there like they weren't about to do the most reckless, idiotic, infuriating thing imaginable.

For a long, terrible moment, Levi was certain he was hallucinating. Sleep deprivation. Bad tea. Something. But no. They were real. They were here. And as their name was called for attendance, they stepped forward like they belonged here. Like they hadn't just shattered every carefully constructed boundary he'd built around them.

The name came out like a knife.

His squad flanked him, oblivious. Petra shifted her weight. Gunther exchanged a look with Eld. None of them knew. None of them could ever know. Because if they knew, they'd ask questions. And if they asked questions, they'd find out that Captain Levi had spent years keeping someone safe only for that someone to walk directly into the jaws of hell with a smile on their face.

It did not sound like a congratulation.