Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of Attack on Titan: A Warrior of Devils
If you want to Read the Following TWO Chapters, Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK
Chapter 27, and Chapter 28 are already available for Patrons.
Before
The flickering lamplight cast long shadows across the maps and reports strewn over Commander Erwin Smith's desk. Night had fallen hours ago, but sleep remained a distant luxury for the Survey Corps' leadership.
"Twenty confirmed kills during the Battle of Trost," Erwin stated, tapping a report with his index finger. "Twenty-eight in today's training exercise. These numbers are exceptional for a cadet."
Captain Levi leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Numbers don't mean shit if he can't follow orders or work in a squad."
Squad Leader Mike Zacharias, standing near the window, sniffed once before speaking. "I observed him during the exercise today. His movements are unusually refined for someone from the Training Corps. He had prior training. Very good prior training"
Hange Zoë bounced on her heels at the edge of the desk, glasses glinting in the lamplight. "Ooh, finally someone to give our grumpy captain a challenge!" She grinned widely at Levi, who scowled in response. "Perhaps the world's strongest soldier is worried about some competition?"
Mike's nostrils flared slightly. "I believe I still hold the title of second-best."
"Of course, of course," Hange waved dismissively before turning back to Erwin. "Speaking of exceptional talents, I've been developing some experiments for Eren in his Titan form. Nothing too invasive! Just testing his endurance, heat resistance, perhaps how long he can hold his breath underwater—"
"Absolutely not," Levi cut in.
"Fine, fine. But what about measuring pain response? Or seeing if he can speak while in Titan form? Or testing if he can survive decapitation—"
"Hange," Erwin interrupted. "Let's focus on what we were talking about. This cadet—Jaime—concerns me."
"Because of his skills?" Mike asked.
"Partially," Erwin nodded, shuffling through more papers. "Our information on him is limited. Raised in the Underground City, but the details are sparse. No recorded family. Joined the military three years ago. Excelled in every aspect of training." He looked up, his gaze intense. "We need every advantage for the upcoming expedition, and someone with his abilities would be valuable. But I need to know he can be trusted."
"The Underground," Levi repeated, his tone flat but his eyes suddenly more attentive.
"Yes," Erwin confirmed. "Does that mean something to you, Levi?"
The room fell silent.
"I'll train him," Levi stated abruptly.
Erwin's expression showed a flicker of surprise. "I was going to ask if you would consider taking him under your wing, but I'm curious why you're volunteering."
"I want to confirm something. That's all."
Erwin studied his captain for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. I trust your judgment." He turned to the others. "We'll need to decide where to place him for the expedition. His skills would be an asset to any squad."
"Ooh, I'll take him!" Hange's hand shot up enthusiastically. "Someone of his caliber working with me, just imagine how many titans we can capture, it will be amazing—"
"I haven't made any decisions yet," Erwin interrupted, with a little smile playing on his lips. "For now, Levi will assess his abilities further. We'll determine his placement closer to the expedition."
Mike sniffed again, turning toward the window. "There's something else about him. Can't quite place it."
"Well, whatever it is," Erwin said, gathering his papers into a neat stack, "we have four weeks to figure it out. Humanity needs every soldier at their best for what's coming."
Now
The morning sun beat down on the training grounds, turning the clearing into a furnace of dust and heat. Fifteen meters of muscle and bone loomed over the assembled soldiers, steam curling off the Titan's skin like mist from a boiling pot. Eren's Titan form stood unnaturally still, its green eyes focused.
"Remarkable control today!" Hange circled the massive figure, scribbling notes with manic enthusiasm. "Three hours transformed and he hasn't so much as twitched without direction!" She paused, pushing her fogged glasses up her nose. "Time for the next phase!"
Levi watched from the shade of a nearby oak, arms crossed over his chest. "Don't push him too far, four-eyes. We need him functional for the expedition."
"Oh please, Levi. Science requires pushing boundaries!" Hange spun toward the others. "Petra! Eld! Oluo! Gunther! Let's see if he can maintain control with you on his shoulders!"
Petra exchanged nervous glances with her squadmates. "Is that... safe?"
Jaime stepped forward, purple eyes gleaming. "I'll go first."
"Brave volunteer!" Hange clapped her hands. "Eren, palm down. Let's give Jaime a lift!"
The Titan's enormous hand descended slowly, fingers splayed across the ground. Jaime stepped onto the massive palm without hesitation, maintaining his balance as Eren lifted him with surprising gentleness.
"Easy, Eren," Jaime called up to the massive face. "Nice and steady."
The Titan's movements were gentle as it raised Jaime to its shoulder. With a nimble hop, Jaime settled onto the steaming flesh, gripping the fibrous muscle for stability.
"He's not trying to eat you!" Hange squealed. "Progress!"
"Is that the bar we're setting?" Oluo scoffed, though he eyed the Titan warily. "Not eating your comrades?"
Eld stepped forward. "I'll go next."
Soon, all of Levi's squad perched on Eren's massive shoulders, their small forms dwarfed by the Titan's bulk. Eren remained motionless, his breathing the only movement as steam hissed between his teeth.
"Now for the stress test!" Hange announced, her voice trembling with excitement. She pointed at a wooden dummy across the clearing. "Eren! See that dummy? Pretend it's a Titan threatening your friends! React!"
The change was immediate. Eren's body tensed, a growl rumbling through his chest. His foot slammed forward, shaking the ground as he advanced toward the dummy. The soldiers on his shoulders clutched his flesh, their faces tight with concentration.
"He's maintaining control!" Hange shouted, scribbling frantically. "He's protecting them, not attacking them! Oh, magnificent!"
Jaime's knuckles whitened as he gripped harder, but his expression remained calm. "Steady, Eren. We're fine up here."
The Titan stopped before the dummy, its green eyes burning with rage that somehow remained focused, controlled. Petra let out a shaky breath. "He's doing it. He's really doing it."
"Now punch it, Eren!" Hange commanded. "Show us your strength!"
Eren's massive fist drew back. The soldiers braced themselves as his arm swung forward with terrifying speed. The dummy exploded into splinters, fragments scattering across the clearing like deadly rain.
"Again!" Hange pointed to a nearby tree. "That one!"
Eren pivoted, his focus shifting to the thick oak. Another punch, even more powerful than the first. The tree trunk shattered, wood cracking like thunder as it toppled backward. But the impact had a consequence—Eren's hand disintegrated in a spray of blood and tissue, chunks of flesh raining down as steam billowed from the mangled stump.
"Fascinating!" Hange rushed forward, eyes wide behind her glasses. "He destroyed his own hand! The force was too much for even Titan physiology!"
The soldiers on Eren's shoulders exchanged alarmed glances. Jaime leaned forward, peering around to Eren's face. "You alright in there?"
A low groan emanated from the Titan's throat, but it remained standing, its posture steady despite the injury.
"Regeneration has already begun," Hange observed, pointing to the steaming stump where new tissue was visibly forming. "But the recovery rate seems slower when self-inflicted damage occurs during voluntary actions."
Levi pushed off from the tree he'd been leaning against. "That's enough. Get them off him before he decides to try catching them with what's left of his hand."
"But the data—"
"Can wait," Levi finished, his tone brooking no argument. "Control is essential, but so is knowing limitations." He looked up at the soldiers on Eren's shoulders. "Dismount. Use your gear."
The squad fired their anchors into nearby trees and swung down from their perch. Jaime was the last to leave, pausing to meet Eren's massive green eye.
"You're getting there," he said, before launching himself gracefully to the ground.
As soon as the last soldier was clear, Eren's Titan form shuddered, then collapsed to its knees. Steam erupted from the nape as the human Eren emerged, gasping and sweat-soaked but conscious.
"Three hours and twenty-seven minutes!" Hange announced, beaming like a proud parent. "A new record!"
Eren staggered as Jaime caught his arm, steadying him. "Did I... did I do okay?" Eren asked, voice hoarse.
Levi approached, his expression unreadable as usual. "You didn't kill anyone. That's something." He glanced at the destroyed tree and the still-regenerating hand of the dissolving Titan body. "But control isn't just about not attacking. It's about precision. Power without precision is just chaos in a different form."
Eren nodded wearily, his eyes drooping with exhaustion.
"Still," Jaime added, supporting Eren's weight, "carrying five soldiers while maintaining focus is impressive progress."
"Indeed!" Hange bounded over, notebook clutched to her chest. "Tomorrow we'll test your balance! Maybe you can carry ten people! Or throw logs at targets! Or—"
"Tomorrow," Levi interrupted, "he rests." His steel gaze fixed on Hange. "We need a soldier, not a broken weapon."
Hange pouted but didn't argue as Eren was led away. The Titan body continued to dissolve behind them, steam rising into the clear blue sky like a signal fire.
Three Days Later - Jaime
The forest canopy blurred above Jaime as he fired his hooks into a massive oak, his body curving in a tight arc through the air. Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes and making the scar there itch. Five hours into today's training, and his muscles screamed in protest with each new maneuver.
"Too slow!" Levi barked from below. "A Titan would have you in its teeth by now."
Jaime gritted his teeth, biting back a retort. Easy for him to say, standing down there like a statue. Still, the Captain had a point. His turns were getting sloppy as fatigue set in. Cutting the gas, he dropped lower, using momentum rather than fuel to swing around the next tree. The world tilted, spun, righted itself again as he landed on a thick branch, breathing hard.
"Better," Levi called up, arms crossed. "Now do it twenty more times without looking like you're about to shit yourself."
Jaime couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips. "Worried about my bowels, Captain? I'm touched."
"Worried about cleaning up after you if you splatter on my training course," Levi retorted.
Eighteen Days into their training regiment, and Jaime was beginning to read the microscopic shifts in Levi's expressions. A slight narrowing of the eyes meant disapproval. A barely perceptible nod was high praise. And that almost-invisible twitch at the corner of his mouth? That was as close to laughter as the Captain ever came.
Jaime fired his hooks again, launching into the next set of drills. The forest was his canvas now, each tree a pivot point, each branch an opportunity. As he spun between two pines, an idea struck him—something he'd been thinking about since watching Levi's reverse-grip technique. What if I combined that with my own spin?
He twisted mid-air, flipping his blades backward while rotating his body, using the centrifugal force to accelerate his spin. His first attempt was clumsy—he clipped a branch and nearly lost his balance—but he felt the potential in it. The move would allow for multiple strikes in a single pass, conserving gas while maximizing damage.
As the sun began to dip behind the trees, Levi called a halt. They sat on fallen logs at the forest's edge, passing a water skin between them in a rare moment of rest. Jaime's dark hair clung to his forehead, and his limbs felt like lead weights.
"You're adapting," Levi said finally, the words falling between them like stones in still water. "Faster than most."
Jaime took a long drink before answering. "Had a good teacher before." He stopped, realizing his slip. "In the Training Corps, I mean."
Levi's steel-gray eyes fixed on him, unblinking. "Cut the shit. I know you're from the Underground." He paused, watching Jaime's reaction. "Takes one to know one."
Jaime's purple eyes widened slightly. He'd known Levi had figured out his origins—hell, he knew of Captain's own background—but hearing it stated so bluntly caught him off guard.
"Yeah," he admitted, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Not exactly something I advertise."
"Who taught you?" Levi asked, the question casual but his eyes sharp. "Your form—some of it—it's familiar."
Jaime tensed, Kenny's stern face flashing in his mind. No one can know about me, brat. You understand? The warning had been clear: keep your mouth shut about your mentor, or there'd be consequences.
"Just some guy," Jaime shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "My mentor picked me up when I was half-starved, taught me how to survive down there. ODM gear, knives, whatever worked." He flashed a wry grin. "Wasn't exactly the warmest teacher. More 'learn or die' than 'good job, kid.'"
Something flickered across Levi's face—recognition, perhaps, or suspicion—but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"The Underground breeds that type," he said after a moment. "Either kills you or makes you strong."
"Made you strong enough," Jaime observed, testing the waters.
Levi didn't rise to the bait. "Get up. Training's not over."
Days blurred together, each one a cycle of sweat, pain, and incremental improvement. Jaime's new maneuver—what he'd privately begun calling the "Reaper's Spin"—was evolving with each attempt. By the fifth day of practicing it, he could reliably hit three targets in a single, gas-efficient pass.
"It's all about the center of gravity," he explained to Petra one evening as they ate. "You twist from the core, let the momentum carry your blades in an arc."
"Show-off," Oluo muttered.
Jaime just grinned. "Just trying to keep up with our dear Captain. Man moves like he's got wings instead of ODM gear."
On the twenty-second day, Jaime stood at the edge of a ravine that cut through the training forest. Six dummy titans were positioned at varying heights and angles across the gap—an impossible sequence by conventional methods. Levi stood beside him, arms crossed as usual.
"You won't make all six," the Captain stated flatly. "Not with standard techniques."
Jaime rolled his shoulders, purple eyes glinting with determination. "Good thing I've been working on something non-standard, then."
"Just don't break your neck. Paperwork's a pain in the ass."
Jaime snorted. "Your concern is heartwarming, Captain."
Without waiting for a response, he fired his hooks and launched himself into open air. The ravine yawned below him, a dizzying drop that would shatter bones if he miscalculated. But fear was a luxury he couldn't afford.
The first dummy appeared to his right. Jaime fired a hook past it, using the anchor point to swing in a tight arc. As he approached, he flipped his blades into the reverse grip Levi had taught him, slicing the nape clean through. Momentum carrying him forward, he transitioned into his own innovation: a corkscrew spin that conserved energy while changing his trajectory.
The second and third targets fell in quick succession, his blades carving precise cuts as he twisted between them. For the fourth, he used minimal gas, just enough to adjust his height before executing another spin. The fifth was tricky—positioned lower than the others—but he dropped into a controlled fall, firing a hook at the last second to stabilize his approach.
The final dummy loomed ahead, positioned at an awkward angle that would require a complete directional change. Jaime felt his gas running low, but there was no turning back now. He released his hooks entirely, freefalling for a heart-stopping moment before firing both hooks simultaneously at crossing points. The wires went taut, and he used the opposing forces to launch himself into a spinning attack that resembled a horizontal tornado more than a conventional ODM maneuver.
His blades connected with the sixth nape just as his momentum began to fade. The cut was perfect—deep enough to kill a real Titan, but precise enough to preserve his blades. He landed on the opposite cliff edge, breathing hard but steady, and turned to face Levi.
The Captain stood exactly where Jaime had left him, expression unchanged except for the slightest widening of his eyes. He crossed the ravine with efficient movements, landing beside Jaime without a word. The silence stretched between them as Levi walked to each dummy, inspecting the cuts as if he were a doctor looking at a wound.
Finally, he returned to where Jaime waited, still catching his breath.
"That last move," Levi said, his voice as flat as ever. "The spin with the crossed anchors. What do you call it?"
Jaime hesitated, then shrugged with a small smile. "Haven't named it yet. 'Not Dying' has a nice ring to it, though."
Levi's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "Not bad," he said, turning away. "Might actually work on real Titans." He paused, then added, "If you don't screw it up."
Coming from Levi, it was practically a standing ovation. Jaime grinned, sheathing his blades with a satisfied click. Three weeks ago, he couldn't have imagined pulling off a sequence like that. Now it felt like just the beginning.
As they headed back toward the training grounds, Jaime caught Levi watching him with that calculating look again. The Captain knew there was more to his story—more than just some nameless mentor in the Underground. But for now, at least, he wasn't pressing the issue.
Good thing too, Jaime thought, absently touching the small scar on his forehead. Because some stories are better left untold.
Tomorrow
Jaime tugged at his collar, the fabric scratching against his neck as he stood outside Levi's office. His heart drummed a nervous rhythm in his chest, which was ridiculous—he'd faced Titans, for crying out loud. Asking for a day off shouldn't feel like marching to the gallows.
Just knock, idiot, he told himself. Worst he can say is no.
Before his knuckles could meet wood, the door swung open. Levi stood there, shorter than Jaime by just a few centimeters, but somehow always managing to look down at him anyway.
"Either come in or stop breathing on my door," Levi said flatly.
Jaime grinned, trying to mask his nerves. "How'd you know I was out here, Captain? Got some kind of short-person radar?"
Levi's eyes narrowed. "I can hear you fidgeting. Talk or leave."
Jaime stepped inside, noting the immaculate desk, the spotless floor, the windows that gleamed so clearly they barely seemed to exist. Classic Levi.
"Sir, I wanted to request a day of leave. To visit Wall Sina." He kept his voice steady, professional, though his fingers twitched at his sides.
Levi sat behind his desk, expression unchanged. "A week before the expedition? Why?"
Because I can't stop thinking about Annie. Because I need to see her face one more time before we ride out. Because what if I don't come back? All true, none suitable for saying aloud.
"Personal matters, sir," Jaime replied instead.
The door creaked open behind them, and Petra poked her head in, a stack of reports in her arms. Her eyes brightened when she spotted Jaime.
"Oh! Are you asking about going to see Annie?" she asked, stepping fully into the room. "The blonde girl from the Military Police, right? The one you told me about?"
Jaime felt heat crawl up his neck. "I—well, yes, but—"
"Annie?" Oluo's voice boomed as he appeared behind Petra, a smug grin spreading across his face. "The cadet's going to see his girlfriend before we risk our necks? How romantic."
"Shut up, Oluo," Jaime muttered.
"Better get your kisses in now," Oluo continued, leaning against the doorframe. "Who knows if you'll come back with all your lips attached."
Petra smacked his arm. "Don't be morbid."
Levi sighed, the sound cutting through their banter like a blade. "If you're all done clucking like hens, I'm trying to have a conversation."
The room fell silent immediately. Jaime straightened his back, waiting as Levi studied him with those piercing gray eyes.
"One day," Levi said finally. "Be back by sunset tomorrow. If you're late, I'll drag you back myself, and you won't enjoy the ride."
Relief flooded through Jaime, but he kept his expression controlled. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
Heavy footsteps approached from the hallway, and Commander Erwin Smith's imposing figure filled the doorway. His blue eyes swept the room, one eyebrow rising slightly at the gathered group.
"I wasn't aware I'd called a meeting," he said, a hint of dry humor in his deep voice.
"Just discussing leave, Commander," Levi replied, standing. "Jaime's requested a day in the interior."
Erwin nodded, his gaze settling on Jaime. "One day only. Expedition planning begins tomorrow evening, and I expect all squad leaders and key personnel to be present."
Jaime swallowed, the weight of the Commander's attention making the room feel suddenly smaller. "Understood, sir. I'll be back in time."
"Good," Erwin said, then addressed the room at large. "We'll be setting out in one week. Whatever preparations you need to make, whatever personal matters need attending to—resolve them quickly." His voice softened slightly, though his expression remained firm. "The fate of humanity doesn't wait for personal comfort."
With that, he nodded once and continued down the hallway, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner.
Jaime let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. One day with Annie. It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.
"Well," Petra said, breaking the silence, "you'd better bring her something nice. Girls like that, you know."
"What would you know about it?" Oluo scoffed. "When's the last time someone brought you—"
"Enough," Levi cut in. "Out, all of you. Some of us have work to do."
As Jaime turned to leave, Levi added quietly, "Be careful in the interior. The MPs aren't known for their hospitality to Survey Corps."
Jaime nodded, surprised by what almost sounded like concern. "Yes, sir."
Walking back to the barracks, Jaime felt lighter than he had in weeks. Tomorrow, he'd see Annie—her sharp blue eyes, her rare smile that he treasured like stolen gold. One day wouldn't be enough, could never be enough, but it was something. A memory to hold onto when they rode out beyond the walls.
Something to come back for, he thought, and quickened his pace.
𖣂
𖣂
The Military Police headquarters loomed before Jaime, a building that somehow managed to look both imposing and lazy at the same time. Unlike the Survey Corps' weathered facilities—all function, no frills—this place screamed excess: polished marble steps, ornate columns, even decorative stonework that served no purpose except to remind visitors that the MPs had the budget for such things.
Jaime tugged at his civilian clothes, feeling oddly naked without his ODM gear. The journey to Wall Sina had been long but uneventful, giving him too much time to think about what he'd say to Annie. Three weeks since he'd seen her, since they'd parted with a kiss.
Stop overthinking it, he told himself, climbing the steps. It's just Annie.
But of course, it wasn't "just" anything with her. Never had been.
As he approached the entrance, two MPs emerged from the massive doorway, deep in conversation. One was a young man with neatly combed black hair and an earnest face that seemed out of place among the Military Police. The other was a girl with wavy brown hair and a sly, cat-like smile that widened when she noticed Jaime.
"Well, well," she drawled, elbowing her companion. "Look what the wall rats dragged in. A Survey Corps boy, all alone in our territory."
The young man frowned at her. "Hitch, show some respect."
Jaime offered an easy smile, though his purple eyes remained cautious. "Just visiting. Though if the welcome party's always this charming, I might have to stop by more often."
Hitch's smile turned predatory as she looked him up and down with unabashed interest. "You must be Jaime. Annie's mentioned you...in passing." She stepped closer, her perfume—something floral and far too strong—enveloping him. "Though she neglected to mention how cute you are. Those eyes! Are they really purple, or is that some Survey Corps mutation?"
"All natural, I'm afraid," Jaime replied, taking a subtle step back. "Nothing exotic about me except my tendency to survive where others don't."
"How modest," Hitch purred, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "I bet there's nothing modest about other parts of you, though. Survey Corps boys must be so...fit."
Jaime cleared his throat, glancing at Marlo for help. The other MP seemed equally uncomfortable, but stepped forward dutifully.
"You're here for Annie, I presume? She's on duty, but should be finishing soon." Marlo's tone was professional, but genuine curiosity crept in as he added, "Is it true the expedition launches next week? I've heard the formation has been modified."
Behind Marlo, through the open doorway, Jaime spotted several MP captains lounging around a table, playing what looked like a card game. One of them glanced up, his eyes narrowing when he noticed Jaime's presence. He nudged his companions, and soon Jaime found himself the recipient of several contemptuous stares.
"The Corps doesn't discuss expedition details," Jaime replied carefully. "But yes, we ride out soon."
Hitch sidled closer again. "So brave," she cooed, placing a hand on his arm. "If you get lonely before you go, I get off duty at—"
"Hitch."
The voice was cold enough to freeze flames. Annie stood in the doorway, her blonde hair tied back in its usual bun, blue eyes sharp as ice picks. She wore the Military Police uniform—crisp, clean, perfectly regulated—but somehow made it look like armor rather than decoration.
"Jaime?" Surprise flickered across her face before she controlled it. "You didn't tell me you were coming."
Jaime's heart stuttered at the sight of her. Even scowling, she was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in weeks. "Wanted to surprise you. Got leave until tomorrow sunset."
Hitch's hand was still on his arm, a fact that hadn't escaped Annie's notice. Her eyes flicked to the contact, then back to Hitch's smirking face.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Annie asked, her tone deceptively mild. "Preferably not touching my boyfriend?"
Hitch withdrew her hand with exaggerated slowness. "Just being friendly to our visitor, Annie. No need to get territorial." Her smile was sugar-sweet poison. "After all, sharing is—"
"Finish that sentence," Annie cut in, "and you'll be eating through a straw for a month."
The tension crackled between them like static before a storm. Jaime half-expected a fight to break out right there on the marble steps.
Instead, Hitch burst into laughter.
"God, you're so easy to rile up!" She flicked her hair back, still giggling. "Fine, fine, I'll leave your precious scout alone." She winked at Annie, already sauntering away. "But you'd better tell me all the juicy details later!"
Marlo looked mortified on behalf of all three of them. "I apologize for...that," he said, gesturing vaguely at Hitch's retreating form. "Welcome to the MP headquarters, Jaime." With a polite nod to Annie, he hurried after his squad mate.
Left alone, Jaime and Annie stood in awkward silence for a heartbeat. Then Jaime grinned, the tension breaking like ice in spring.
"So...nice coworkers you've got."
Annie's lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. "They're the worst." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Up close, he could see the faint shadows under her eyes, the tightness at the corners of her mouth. "You're really here till tomorrow?"
"All yours for twenty-four hours," he confirmed, resisting the urge to reach for her in such a public place. "Though preferably somewhere with fewer MPs giving me the evil eye."
Annie glanced over her shoulder at the officers still watching them. "Let's go," she said, turning back to the steps. "I know a place where they won't bother us."
As they descended the marble staircase, Jaime felt the weight of the past weeks—the training, the pressure, the looming expedition—begin to lift from his shoulders. Twenty-four hours wasn't much against what waited beyond the walls.
But with Annie, it would be enough. It had to be.
Sunlight dappled the cobblestone streets of the interior city, and gleaming metal fixtures that would have been unthinkable luxuries in the outer walls. Jaime walked beside Annie. After weeks of Levi's harsh training and Titan dummies, simply being here with her felt surreal.
Annie had changed out of her Military Police uniform into a simple white blouse and dark skirt that made her look softer somehow, less the soldier and more the fifteen-year-old girl she actually was. Her blonde hair remained in its usual bun, though a few strands had escaped to frame her face.
"So," Jaime began, "tell me about life with the glorious MPs. As corrupt and lazy as I warned you?"
Annie's lips quirked upward. "Worse. Yesterday I watched three senior officers spend four hours arguing about which tavern served better ale, then file expense reports for 'reconnaissance.'"
Jaime laughed, the sound drawing glances from well-dressed passersby. Here in Wall Sina, Survey Corps members—even off-duty ones—were oddities, almost as strange as the Titans they fought.
"Sounds rough," he teased. "While you're drinking fancy ale, I'm getting thrown into trees by Captain Levi."
"Poor baby," Annie replied, but her tone had softened, and she bumped her shoulder against his deliberately this time. "Is he as brutal as everyone says?"
"Worse," Jaime mimicked her earlier response. "But I'm learning. Got this new move that even impressed him—or at least, he didn't tell me it was completely shit, which is basically the same thing."
Annie nodded, but Jaime noticed her eyes scanning their surroundings with more vigilance than a casual stroll required. Her shoulders carried a tension that hadn't been there during training, and occasionally her fingers would flex at her sides, as though reaching for weapons that weren't there.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, purple eyes studying her profile. "You seem... I don't know, tense."
"I'm fine," she said quickly—too quickly. She must have realized it, because she added, "Just MP stress. Nothing important."
Before Jaime could press further, Annie pointed to a small shop nestled between a tailor and a bookbinder. "There. That's the place I mentioned."
The tea shop was tiny but immaculate, with just five tables arranged around a central counter. The aroma of baked goods and brewed tea filled the air, making Jaime's mouth water instantly. A bell tinkled as they entered, and an elderly woman looked up from behind the counter, her face brightening when she spotted Annie.
"The serious young lady returns!" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. "And with company this time!"
To Jaime's surprise, Annie's cheeks flushed slightly. "Hello, Mrs. Müller. Two teas, please. And..." she glanced at Jaime, then back at the woman, "...those sweet buns you had last time."
"Coming right up, dear," Mrs. Müller beamed, already bustling about.
They settled at a corner table, Jaime raising an eyebrow at Annie. "The serious young lady, huh?"
"Shut up," Annie muttered. Here, away from prying eyes, her features relaxed incrementally, revealing the Annie that only Jaime ever really saw—still guarded, but with a softness around the edges, a vulnerability she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Mrs. Müller brought their order: fragrant tea in delicate cups and a plate piled with sticky sweet buns. Annie immediately reached for one, her blue eyes lighting up in a way that made Jaime's heart stumble. Two years together, and her sweet tooth still surprised and delighted him.
"So," Annie said between bites, "the expedition. When do you leave exactly?"
"One week from yesterday," Jaime replied, sipping his tea. "Commander Erwin's been tight-lipped about the details, even with squad leaders."
Annie nodded, her expression carefully neutral. "What about formations? Do you know where you'll be positioned?"
"Not yet. Erwin's calling a planning meeting tomorrow night. Why?"
She shrugged, focusing intently on tearing small pieces from her sweet bun. "Just curious. The MPs talk about Survey Corps expeditions like they're suicide missions. I want to know how bad it really is."
"Worried about me?" Jaime teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm touched, Leonhart."
"Don't flatter yourself," she retorted, but her eyes softened as they met his. "You're not allowed to die out there, that's all. I'd have to find someone else to annoy me."
Jaime grinned, leaning forward. "Speaking of annoyances, you should have seen Hange five days ago. Eren punched a tree so hard his entire Titan hand exploded into meat chunks, and she was dancing with excitement. Full-on twirling, saying it was 'magnificent data.' Poor Moblit looked ready to have a heart attack."
A small, genuine smile tugged at Annie's lips. "She sounds insane."
"Completely," Jaime agreed, warming to his story. "There we were, perched on Eren's shoulders—yes, actually sitting on Titan Eren, which is hotter than you'd think, like sitting on a steam vent—and Hange starts throwing rocks at him to 'test his restraint.'"
Annie's eyes widened slightly. "She threw rocks at a Titan with you on it?"
"Said it was perfectly safe," Jaime mimicked Hange's enthusiastic tone, pushing his glasses up an invisible nose, "'Probably!'"
A quiet giggle escaped Annie—a sound so rare and precious that Jaime felt like he'd just discovered gold. Encouraged, he launched into more tales: Oluo's constant tongue-biting, Petra's patient sighs, Levi forcing them all to clean the castle for the third time because he found dust on a window ledge.
"...and then Captain Levi said, 'If you have time to complain about cleaning, you have time to clean the stables with your toothbrush.'" Jaime finished, sipping the last of his tea. "I swear, the man's more afraid of dust than Titans."
Annie was actually smiling now, a soft curve of lips that transformed her whole face. "At least he keeps you prepared," she observed. "Unlike the MPs, who couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag."
Jaime nodded, then added, "You should see Hange with her captured Titans, though. Talks to them like they're her pets. Named them Sawney and Bean. Swears they have distinct personalities."
Annie's smile vanished, her face going curiously blank. "How can someone love Titans?"
"Love might be stretching it," Jaime replied, studying her sudden change in demeanor. "She's a scientist. Wants to understand them. Says knowledge is our best weapon."
"They're monsters," Annie said flatly. "Nothing to understand."
Jaime reached across the table, covering her hand with his. "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you."
She shook her head, turning her hand to grasp his. "You didn't. I just... I've seen what Titans do to people."
"We all have," he reminded her gently.
They finished their meal in comfortable silence, Annie ordering another round of sweet buns "for later," though Jaime suspected they wouldn't survive the walk back to her barracks. As they left the shop, the afternoon sun had begun its descent, painting the city in gold and amber hues.
"I should get you back," Annie said reluctantly as they reached a quiet side street. "You have a long journey tomorrow."
"Not yet," Jaime murmured, tugging her closer. "I've waited three weeks to do this properly."
He leaned down, closing the small gap between them, and pressed his lips to hers. Annie responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck with surprising strength. What began as a gentle kiss quickly deepened, becoming something hungry and desperate. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding him as though afraid he might disappear if she let go.
When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Jaime rested his forehead against hers. "I've missed you," he whispered.
"I've missed you too," she admitted, her voice barely audible. Her eyes, when they met his, carried a storm of emotions he couldn't fully decipher. "Jaime, when you're out there..."
"I know, I know—be careful," he finished for her, smiling softly.
She shook her head, her hands gripping his shoulders with sudden intensity. "No. Listen to me. You're going to see people die. Don't try to be a hero. Don't..."
Her voice faltered, and Jaime's smile faded at the raw fear in her eyes. This wasn't just ordinary concern—something deeper haunted her.
"Annie, what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"
She stepped back, composing herself with visible effort. "Nothing. Just... promise me you'll focus on staying alive. Not saving everyone."
Jaime studied her for a long moment, purple eyes serious. "I understand," he said finally. "But you know I can't promise to stand by if someone needs help. That's not who I am."
"I know," she replied, and for a heartbeat, Jaime thought he saw tears in her eyes before she blinked them away. "That's what worries me."
As they walked back toward the Military Police headquarters, their hands entwined tightly between them, Jaime couldn't shake the feeling that Annie was carrying a burden far heavier than she was willing to share.
Four Days Later
"Again!" Jaime barked, arms crossed as he watched Ymir's landing. "Your weight distribution is all wrong. You're wasting gas on the approach and leaving yourself vulnerable for at least three seconds."
Ymir wiped sweat from her freckled face, throwing him a glare that would have withered lesser men. "Easy for you to say, shorty. Some of us have actual height to manage."
Jaime didn't rise to the bait. Three days before the expedition wasn't the time for their usual bickering. "Height's no excuse for sloppy technique. If I can make this work with my frame, your lanky ass can figure it out too." He gestured to the training course—a complex arrangement of wooden Titan dummies and obstacles designed to mimic dense forest conditions. "One more run. Full sequence."
The training grounds were mostly empty, other squads already finished for the day. The setting sun cast long shadows across the field, turning the wooden Titans into menacing silhouettes. Jaime had requested this extra session specifically for Ymir and Krista, knowing they needed the work more than most.
Krista sat on a nearby crate, catching her breath, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead. Her usual cheerful smile had been replaced by concentrated determination. "Jaime, could you show us that technique again? I'm still struggling with the timing."
Jaime nodded, softening slightly. "After Ymir's run. Watch her carefully—she's actually getting the initial hook placement right, even if her landing looks like a drunk bird falling out of a nest."
"Fuck you very much," Ymir muttered, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips as she checked her gear.
Ymir tried to do the move Jaime had shown her again. "Ymir! What did I just say about those turns?"
The tall, freckled girl dropped from the trees with a heavy thud, a scowl darkening her features. "I got through the course, didn't I?"
"Sure, if by 'got through' you mean 'crashed through like a drunk titan,'" Jaime retorted. "You're burning twice the gas you need to. In the field, that's the difference between making it home and becoming titan food."
"Since when did you turn into Captain Clean-Freak?" Ymir muttered, rolling her shoulders. "Four weeks of special training and suddenly you're too good for us common folk?"
Jaime's jaw tightened. He'd been pushing them hard—harder than he'd initially planned—but Annie's warning echoed in his mind. You're going to see people die. Not if he could help it. Not his friends. Not Ymir with her abrasive shell and fiercely protective heart. Not Krista, who carried secrets as heavy as his own.
"I'm trying to keep you alive," he said, his tone losing its edge. "Out there, there's no second chances."
Something in his voice must have reached Ymir, because her scowl faltered. She exchanged a glance with Krista, some silent communication passing between them.
"Fine," Ymir relented, securing her gas canisters. "Show me again. But if you get all smug about it, I'm cutting your harness while you sleep."
Jaime grinned, the tension breaking. "As if you could find me. I sleep hanging from the ceiling, like all the best short people."
This earned him a snort from Ymir and a giggle from Krista. Taking position, Jaime fired his hooks into a nearby oak and launched himself upward. The familiar rush of wind filled his ears as he executed a clean, economical turn—nothing fancy like what he'd learned from Levi, just solid fundamentals with minimal gas usage.
"See?" he called down as he landed. "It's all in the timing. Fire your second hook at the apex of your swing, not during the ascent."
Krista nodded earnestly, while Ymir made a show of yawning. But when they tried again, Jaime noted with satisfaction that Ymir's turns were noticeably tighter, her gas plumes smaller.
They worked for another hour, the sun sinking lower. Jaime demonstrated a defensive evasion move—a simple side-slip that could mean the difference between dodging a Titan's grasp or ending up in its palm.
"Good!" he called as Krista executed it perfectly on her third try. "That's exactly it!"
Ymir followed, adding her own flourish at the end—a completely unnecessary but admittedly impressive spin that had Jaime rolling his eyes.
"Show-off," he muttered as she landed beside him.
"Jealous, shorty?" she replied, flicking sweat from her brow. "Some of us have style."
"Some of us have survival instincts," he countered. "But... that wasn't terrible."
Coming from him—at least in instructor mode—it was high praise, and they both knew it. Ymir's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
"Your turn, Krista," Jaime called, stepping back to give her room. "Remember, it's all about the timing."
Krista nodded. She fired her hooks and soared upward. Her form was good—great, even—until she misjudged her second hook's placement. It slipped from its anchor point, sending her into an uncontrolled spin.
"Krista!" Ymir shouted, already moving.
But Jaime was faster. He fired his hooks and launched himself toward the falling girl, catching her mid-air with one arm while his other hand directed them safely to the ground. They landed with a thud that knocked the wind from him, but Krista was unharmed.
"Are you okay?" he asked, checking her for injuries.
"I'm fine," she assured him, breathless but smiling. "Thank you, Jaime."
Ymir landed beside them a moment later, concern briefly visible before her usual mask of indifference slammed back into place. "Nice catch, half-pint. Guess being closer to the ground has its advantages."
"Better than having my head in the clouds like some lanky giants I know," Jaime shot back, helping Krista to her feet.
As they gathered their gear, the last rays of sunlight fading from the clearing, Ymir cleared her throat awkwardly. "Your methods," she began, not quite meeting his eyes, "they're not... completely useless."
From Ymir, it was practically a flowery declaration of gratitude. Jaime inclined his head, accepting it with the gravity it deserved. "High praise from the Queen of the Trees."
"Don't push it," she warned.
Krista stepped between them, a hand on each of their arms. "What Ymir means is thank you. We both appreciate you taking the time to help us, especially so close to the expedition."
Jaime's chest tightened at the reminder. In less than a week, they'd all be riding beyond the walls, facing dangers that no amount of training could fully prepare them for. He looked at his friends—Ymir; Krista, and felt a fierce protectiveness surge through him.
"Just don't make me regret it by doing something stupid out there," he said, trying for lightness and not quite succeeding. "Both of you, watch each other's backs."
"Always do," Ymir replied, her tone unusually somber as her eyes flicked to Krista.
They walked back toward the barracks together, the friendly bickering resuming as they emerged from the forest. The main hall buzzed with activity as they entered, their fellow recruits gathered around tables for the evening meal. Reiner and Bertholdt sat with Jean and Connie, discussing something that had Connie gesturing wildly. Sasha, predictably, was focused entirely on her bread, while Mikasa sat quietly beside Eren and Armin, her dark eyes watchful as always.
"Well, if it isn't the special training squad," Jean called as they approached. "Did Short and Dark here teach you any of his fancy new moves?"
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Jean," Jaime replied with a grin, dropping onto the bench. "But if you ask nicely, maybe I'll show you how not to scream like a baby when a Titan looks at you."
The room erupted in laughter, even Mikasa's lips twitching slightly. As Jaime reached for a bread roll, he caught Ymir's eye across the table. She gave him a barely perceptible nod—acknowledgment, respect, perhaps even gratitude. He returned it, their usual antagonism set aside for this brief moment of understanding.
We're ready, he thought, looking around at his comrades, his friends. As ready as we can be.
But a small voice in the back of his mind, sounding suspiciously like Annie's, whispered: No one is ever ready for what waits beyond the walls.
.
.
"I'm telling you," Connie insisted, waving a spoon for emphasis, "it was at least twelve meters tall, and its teeth were like this!" He bared his own teeth in an exaggerated grimace that made Sasha snort soup through her nose.
"Please," Jean scoffed, leaning back with his arms crossed. "The only twelve-meter thing about that story is the pile of bullshit it's built on."
Jaime laughed along with the others, feeling the tension of the day's training session gradually melting away. These moments—just being cadets together, friends sharing a meal—had become increasingly rare as the expedition drew closer.
"Hey, Eren," Sasha called, having recovered from her snorting incident, "bet you can't fit an entire bread roll in your mouth at once!"
Eren, never one to back down from a challenge, puffed out his chest. "Watch me!"
"Please don't," Mikasa sighed, but it was too late. Eren had already stuffed the entire roll into his mouth, his cheeks bulging comically as he struggled to close his lips around it.
"Oi, Yeager!" Ymir called from across the table, where she sat with one arm casually draped behind Krista's chair. "Save some for the rest of us. You've already got one Titan form—you don't need to turn into a bread Titan too."
Armin dissolved into giggles, which set everyone else off. Even Mikasa's lips twitched upward at the sight of Eren's stuffed-chipmunk glare.
Jaime caught Reiner's eye across the table and raised his cup in a small salute. The burly blond grinned back, nudging Bertholdt, who offered a more reserved smile.
"So," Connie asked, turning to Jean, "what formation do you think we'll be in for the expedition? Heard any rumors?"
Jean shrugged, trying to look nonchalant despite the obvious pride in his voice. "Commander Erwin doesn't discuss strategy with us lowly new recruits. Though I did overhear him talking about strengthening the right flank."
"Big deal," Ymir drawled. "I overheard Captain Levi saying we're all going to die horribly."
"He did not!" Krista gasped, swatting Ymir's arm.
"Well, not in those exact words," Ymir admitted, grinning. "But you know how cheerful he is."
"Speaking of cheerful," Mikasa said quietly, her dark eyes settling on Jaime, "where were you four days ago? You weren't at training or meals."
The question dropped into the conversation like a stone in still water, creating ripples of sudden interest. Jaime felt heat rise to his face, caught off guard.
"I, uh—" he stammered, his usual smooth charm deserting him completely. "I had permission for leave. From Captain Levi."
"Oh really?" Jean's eyebrows shot up with interest. "The Captain doesn't give days off unless someone's missing a limb. What'd you do, bribe him with cleaning supplies?"
Jaime's face grew hotter. "Nothing like that. I just... had some personal business in the interior."
A beat of silence followed as everyone processed his awkward response and increasingly red face. Then Ymir's laugh—loud and knowing—shattered the quiet.
"Personal business?" she crowed, slapping the table. "Is that what we're calling it now? Our little Jaime went on a date. With Annie." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Or maybe just fucking. Hard to tell with how red his face is getting."
"Ymir!" Krista hissed, jabbing her with an elbow. "Don't be crude!"
"What? It's not like it's a secret," Ymir protested, still grinning. "Well, not anymore anyway."
Jaime groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. "Thanks for that, Ugly Freckles. Really appreciate you announcing my private life to the entire mess hall."
"Any time, Shorty," Ymir replied with a wink.
Around the table, reactions varied wildly. Jean leaned across to clap Jaime on the shoulder, his expression a mix of congratulations and envy. "Annie Leonhart, huh? Damn, man. She's terrifying, but... respect."
Eren's mouth had fallen open, bread crumbs still clinging to his lips. "You and Annie?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised and, oddly, a little disappointed. "Since when?"
"Almost two years," Jaime admitted, seeing little point in denying it now. "Since training."
"Two years?" Eren's voice cracked. "How did none of us know this?"
"Some of us knew," Jean said smugly. "Some of us are actually observant."
Armin was smiling nervously, his eyes darting between Jaime and Mikasa, who had gone very still, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. The slight drop in her shoulders wasn't obvious to most, but Jaime noticed it with a twinge of confusion.
Across the table, Bertholdt's expression had transformed from mild interest to something darker, his usually passive features tightening. He abruptly stood, the bench scraping loudly against the floor.
"Bertl?" Reiner questioned, looking up at his friend with concern.
Without a word, Bertholdt turned and strode from the room. After a moment's hesitation, Reiner rose to follow him, pausing only to give Jaime a complicated look—part apology, part something else Jaime couldn't quite identify.
"What's his problem?" Connie asked, breaking the awkward silence that followed their departure.
"Maybe he's just jealous that Annie chose the short pretty boy instead of the tall awkward one," Ymir suggested, earning another elbow from Krista.
"Not everyone wants to hear about your love life, Jaime," Krista said gently, trying to smooth over the moment. "Some people might be...surprised, that's all."
Sasha brightened. "Does Annie give you extra food from the MPs? I heard they get real meat, not just on special occasions!"
"Priorities, Sasha," Jean muttered, rolling his eyes.
Jaime seized the chance to change the subject. "No special meat, sorry. Though she did take me to this little tea shop with amazing sweet buns."
"Sweet buns?" Sasha nearly drooled, all thoughts of romance forgotten in favor of pastry.
The conversation gradually shifted back to safer topics—Sasha's endless hunger, speculation about the expedition, Connie's increasingly outlandish Titan stories. But Jaime noticed Mikasa remained quiet, more so than usual. When she finally looked up and their eyes met briefly, he saw something in her dark gaze that made his chest tighten unexpectedly.
"So what's she like?" Jean asked later, nudging Jaime when the group had fractured into smaller conversations. "Annie, I mean. When she's not... you know... being Annie."
Jaime considered the question, thinking of Annie's rare smiles, the way she devoured sweet things, how fiercely she held onto him when they kissed.
"Different," he said finally. "Not softer, exactly, but... more real. Like the Annie everyone else sees is just armor."
Jean nodded thoughtfully. "Must be hard, with her in the MPs and you here."
"Yeah," Jaime agreed, his mind drifting to their last meeting. "Sometimes it feels like we're in completely different worlds."
"Well, after the expedition, maybe you can request a transfer to the interior," Jean suggested. "With your skills, they might even grant it."
Jaime shook his head. "Nah. I belong here." His eyes swept over his friends—Eren arguing animatedly with Connie, Armin trying to mediate, Sasha stealing bread from an unattended plate, Ymir whispering something that made Krista blush. Even Mikasa was part of this strange family they'd formed.
"Besides," he added with a grin, "someone's got to keep you guys alive out there."
"Who appointed you everyone's guardian?" Jean scoffed.
Jaime's smile dimmed slightly as he thought of Annie's words again. You're going to see people die. Don't try to be a hero.
"Nobody," he said quietly. "I just can't stand the alternative."
The conversation shifted when Jean's expression suddenly hardened, his attention fixed on Eren across the table.
"Hey, Eren," Jean said, straightening up. "I heard that when you first transformed into a titan, you tried to kill Mikasa. Is that true?"
The room fell silent. Eren's face tightened with discomfort.
"You're wrong," Mikasa interjected quickly. "Eren was just—"
"I wasn't asking you," Jean cut her off, gesturing to her face. "That scar on your cheek... when did that happen?"
Mikasa's fingers brushed the mark before she turned away, hiding it with her hair.
"It's true," Eren admitted, staring at the table. "I tried to attack Mikasa when I was a titan. I don't remember doing it."
Jean leaned forward. "So you have no memory of it? You didn't know what you were capable of, and you still don't fully control it?"
"That's right," Eren said quietly.
Jean turned to address everyone. "You all heard that? Our lives depend on someone who can't control his power. We could all end up dead, like Marco, and Eren wouldn't even know it happened."
The mention of Marco's name silenced any murmurs. Jaime felt a familiar ache at the memory of his friend.
Mikasa stood up, eyes flashing. "Jean, what are you trying to accomplish here?"
Before Jean could answer, Jaime spoke up from where he leaned against a column.
"He's making sense, Mikasa. Most of us didn't choose to be here. We ended up in the Survey Corps because we had no better options. They have a right to know what they're risking their lives for."
Surprise flickered across Mikasa's face, as if she hadn't expected Jaime to take Jean's side.
"Exactly," Jean continued with growing confidence. "Not all of us would die for Eren without question. We need to know our sacrifices mean something. We need some kind of assurance from you, Eren—something that makes risking our lives worthwhile."
The hall was silent, everyone watching the confrontation unfold.
Jean moved closer, placing his hands on Eren's shoulders and looking directly into his eyes. "This is serious. We're depending on you. Can we count on you? If so, we'll follow you to the end."
Jaime watched Eren absorb the weight of what Jean was asking. For a moment, he seemed overwhelmed by the responsibility. Then something changed in his expression. He swallowed hard and straightened his back, gripping Jean's arms firmly.
"Yes, you can trust me," he said, his voice stronger than before. "I won't fail you. I'll become your hope. I'll fight until the end—for Marco, for Mina, Thomas, Nack, Milieus, and for every soldier willing to stand with us. I swear it."
Jean stepped back with a satisfied nod.
"Good," he said. "That's what I needed to hear."
As conversations slowly resumed, Mikasa approached Jaime, her expression guarded.
"You didn't defend him," she said quietly.
"Sometimes the best support is letting someone speak for themselves," Jaime replied. "Eren needed to answer that question."
"Do you believe he won't lose control again?"
Jaime thought of Eren's training sessions, his determination despite his struggles. "I believe he'll try his hardest. Sometimes that's all anyone can promise."
Mikasa studied him a moment longer before nodding and returning to Eren's side.
The expedition was days away now. Whatever waited beyond the walls—whatever Annie had warned him about—they would face it together, with open eyes and full awareness of the risks.
It was the only way any of them stood a chance.
Night
The barracks had mostly emptied as curfew approached, cadets drifting off to catch whatever sleep they could before another day of preparation. Jaime lingered in the common area, sketching by lamplight, his pencil moving in swift, sure strokes across the paper. The familiar action calmed him, as it always had—a habit from childhood that had survived Kenny's training and three years of military discipline.
Jaime heard someone approaching, but based on its steps, he knew it was Mikasa.
"You're still up," Mikasa observed quietly.
Jaime glanced up, surprised to find her there. In all their time together, Mikasa had rarely sought him out directly. "Just finishing this," he said, gesturing to his sketch—a scene from dinner, capturing Sasha's horrified expression as Connie swiped bread from her plate.
Mikasa nodded, then hesitated before sitting down across from him.
"That's good," she said, nodding toward his drawing. "You've always been skilled at that."
"Thanks," Jaime replied, setting his pencil down. "Better than my bread-stealing skills, at least. Sasha nearly stabbed Connie with a fork."
The ghost of a smile touched Mikasa's lips. Then her expression grew serious again.
"Earlier," she began, then paused, searching for words. "With Jean and Eren..."
"Ah," Jaime said, understanding. "You're still upset I took Jean's side."
Mikasa shook her head slightly. "Not upset. Just... surprised. You defended Eren before, against the Garrison. You faced cannons for him."
"That was different," Jaime replied. "The Garrison wanted to kill him out of fear. Jean was asking questions we all needed answers to."
"I suppose," she conceded. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, carefully smoothing it open on the table between them.
Jaime recognized it immediately—a drawing he'd given her almost a year ago. It showed Mikasa, Eren, and Armin racing towards a tree. He'd sketched it quickly one afternoon, never thinking much of it, and had given it to her almost on impulse.
He was surprised she'd kept it, let alone carried it with her.
"I look at it sometimes," she admitted, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it. "To remember why we're fighting."
Jaime studied her face in the warm lamplight—the usually stoic Mikasa suddenly vulnerable, showing him a side of herself few ever saw.
"For two years, I avoided you," she said abruptly, still looking at the drawing. "Did you notice?"
"Hard not to," Jaime replied with a small smile. "You have quite the glare when you want to."
She glanced up, guilt flickering across her features. "I thought you were a threat to Eren. I thought..."
"That I had some ulterior motive?" Jaime suggested.
"You were just being kind," she said. "I understand that now." Her fingers traced the edge of the drawing lightly. "I didn't know how to react when you gave me this. No one had ever... observed us that way before."
Jaime shrugged, feeling strangely exposed under her steady gaze. "Just drawing what I saw."
Mikasa carefully folded the paper again, tucking it back into her jacket. "The expedition is in three days," she said, changing the subject but not really changing it at all.
"Yeah," Jaime nodded, understanding her concern. "Eren will be with Levi Squad. They're the best the Corps has—they'll keep him safe."
"I know that," she said. "But..." She hesitated, then met his eyes directly. "I want you to be safe too."
The admission caught him off guard. Mikasa Ackerman, concerned for someone besides Eren and Armin? He must have looked as surprised as he felt, because something like embarrassment flickered across her face.
"You matter to people here," she added quickly, as if to explain herself. "To our friends. It would..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It would be difficult if you didn't come back."
Jaime felt an unexpected warmth in his chest at her words. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Levi's beaten enough survival skills into me these past weeks. But you be careful too. Your squad is going to need your strength out there."
Mikasa nodded, then stood up, clearly having reached the limit of her comfort with personal conversation. "You should sleep," she said, her usual practical tone returning. "Training starts early."
"Yes, ma'am," Jaime replied with a mock salute and a grin.
She turned to go, then paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Jaime?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For the drawing."
With that, she slipped away toward the women's quarters, leaving Jaime sitting alone with his sketchbook.
He looked down at the half-finished drawing, then carefully added a few final strokes. Not just Sasha and Connie now, but Mikasa in the background, watching over them all with that quiet vigilance that was so uniquely hers.
Three Days Later
Dawn broke over Karanes District in shades of gold and crimson, as if the sky itself were bleeding for those who wouldn't return. Jaime adjusted Aethra's saddle straps. The copper mare nuzzled his shoulder.
All around him, soldiers made final preparations—checking gear, tightening straps, murmuring quiet words to comrades or prayers to gods that had long since abandoned them. The entire 57th Expedition waited in formation: neat rows of horses and riders, green cloaks billowing in the morning breeze, the Wings of Freedom seeming to take flight with each gust.
"Hey," a voice called softly. Jaime turned to see Jean approaching, already mounted, his face a mask of forced confidence. "Ready for this?"
"Born ready," Jaime replied with a smile. "Just trying to decide if I should wear my hair up or down. What makes a better impression on Titans? The windswept look or the practical bun?"
Jean snorted, but still smiled, looking less tense. "I'd go with the bun. Less for them to grab."
"Good point," Jaime agreed, swinging up onto Aethra's back. From this new vantage, he could see the entire formation—hundreds of soldiers preparing to ride into the maw of death with nothing but steel and courage.
Nearby, Sasha was frantically stuffing bread into her pockets, ignoring Connie's bewildered stare.
"What?" she demanded when she caught them watching. "If I'm going to die, I'm not doing it hungry."
"No one's dying today," Jaime called over, his voice carrying more confidence than he felt. "Not with your incredible ability to sense Titans before they appear."
Sasha brightened. "You really think so?"
"Sure. You can smell a potato from a mile away—surely a Titan's no different."
A few nervous laughs rippled around them. Even in these moments—especially in these moments—humor was a shield against fear.
Farther down the line, Jaime spotted Mikasa and Armin with their squad. Mikasa caught his eye and gave a slight nod—an acknowledgment of their conversation, perhaps, or simply soldier to soldier. Armin waved.
Eren was already with Levi Squad, positioned deeper in the formation where he'd be protected. Jaime had glimpsed him earlier, receiving last-minute instructions from the Captain.
Ymir and Krista approached on horseback, preparing to move to their assigned position in the left wing of the formation—far from Jaime's place on the right.
"Think we'll actually see a Titan today?" Krista asked, her small hands tight on her reins.
"Hope not," Ymir replied, positioned protectively close to the blonde. "But if we do, stay behind me."
"Protect our Krista, Ugly Freckles," Jaime said. "I'll be too far away to help if trouble finds you."
Ymir nodded, the usual sarcasm absent from her face. "You focus on keeping your short ass alive, Purple-eyes."
"Jaime..." Krista leaned forward, her blue eyes earnest. "Promise you'll come back to us. All of us."
"That's the plan," he replied with a confident smile. "Someone has to keep you two in line."
As they parted ways, Jaime watched them ride toward their position, Ymir's tall form like a shield beside Krista's smaller one. The sight lodged in his chest—a stone of worry he couldn't afford to carry today.
A hush fell over the assembled troops as Commander Erwin Smith rode to the front, his massive frame straight and commanding atop his white stallion.
"Soldiers of the Survey Corps!" his voice boomed across the square, somehow reaching every ear without seeming to shout. "Today we ride not just for victory, but for the future of humanity!"
Jaime's spine straightened automatically, as did those of every soldier around him.
"Beyond these walls lies knowledge—knowledge that will free us from our cage, knowledge that our enemies would keep from us. Some of you will not return today. But your sacrifices will not be in vain, for with each expedition, we move one step closer to the truth that will save us all!"
In that moment, they were not individuals but parts of a greater whole—humanity's spear, aimed at the heart of the mystery beyond the walls.
"Dedicate your hearts!" Erwin's voice rose to a crescendo, his right fist pounding against his chest.
"DEDICATE YOUR HEARTS!" the soldiers roared in response, Jaime's voice joining the chorus.
At the Commander's signal, the massive gates of Karanes began to lift upwards, revealing the world beyond—green fields that stretched to the horizon, no titan in sight—it almost seemed peaceful.
As the front line prepared to move out, Jaime felt an odd calm settle over him. Not the absence of fear, but acceptance, perhaps, or the strange clarity that came with knowing each breath might be your last. Kenny had taught him that feeling, in the dark alleys of the Underground, where hesitation meant death.
He glanced back once, toward the interior—toward Sina, toward Annie. Her words echoed in his mind: Don't try to be a hero. A sad smile touched his lips. Some habits were hard to break.
"Forward!" Erwin's command cut through the air, and the front line surged through the gates.
Squad by squad, the formation followed, a river of green and silver flowing out beyond the walls. Jaime's position was on the right wing, ninth row.
As Aethra carried him across the threshold from safety to danger, Jaime took one last look at the walls that had sheltered humanity for a century. Then he faced forward, toward whatever waited in the world beyond—toward the Titans.
If you want to Read the Following TWO Chapters, Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK