The morning sun cast a gentle warmth over the garden, where Eren and the others sat, the air carrying a subtle chill of early dawn. The faint clinking of teacups filled the silence as everyone awaited Hange's arrival. Levi, seated calmly, looked better than he had in days, though the sharpness in his gaze was ever-present.
"Wait for Hange," Levi instructed, his voice low but firm. "She'll explain everything. In the meantime, finish your tea."
Eren nodded, sipping carefully, the slight tension of the moment not lost on him. The others sat quietly, the calm before what was sure to be another demanding day of training.
Minutes later, Hange arrived in a hurried flurry, her usual enthusiasm tempered by something more serious. She paused, staring at Levi.
"What happened to your face? Didn't do the shit properly?" Levi said.
The group stilled, glancing at Levi to gauge his reaction.
"What? It's a legitimate question," Levi deadpanned, sipping his tea.
Hange's eyes narrowed before she shifted the conversation. "Levi—what the hell exactly did Sana write in those books and blueprints? Because I've never seen anything like it."
Levi raised an eyebrow, his tone flat. "Her handwriting's shit. I'll translate."
"No, I mean—" Hange's voice faltered, her usual unshakable energy replaced by something almost reverent. "I've never even imagined something like this. She was a genius, Levi. I don't know if I can even begin to carry on her work. I tried asking her team, but there's so much that doesn't make sense to me. I wish she were here."
Levi's hand paused over his teacup. A flicker of pain crossed his face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "She isn't here anymore," he said, voice heavy. "We've got to wipe our own asses now. Take all her books, even the ones in the barracks. Study them. Maybe you'll find something useful."
Hange hesitated, her brow furrowed. "I'll try," she said quietly. Then, turning to Eren, she asked, "How far has his training gone?"
"He just had tea," Levi replied dryly, earning a small laugh from the others.
Hange gave Eren a list of instructions, urging him to focus and visualize his transformation. With a determined nod, Eren agreed, and Hange excused herself to dive into Sana's work.
---
The afternoon sun hung high as the group gathered for lunch after hours of grueling training. Eren had made progress, with one successful transformation under his belt, but exhaustion weighed heavy on him and his companions.
As they ate, Eren broke the silence. "Levi Heichou," he began hesitantly.
"What is it now?" Levi asked, not looking up from his meal.
"Did you know Sana-san?" Eren's question hung in the air like a thunderclap.
The team froze mid-bite, spoons suspended in the air. Even the wind seemed to still.
Levi's hand stopped, and he glanced at Eren, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I knew her. She was part of my family."
The tension eased slightly, spoons resuming their journey to mouths, but curiosity lingered in the air.
Eren pressed on, undeterred. "What was she to you?"
This time, the silence was absolute. The squad exchanged nervous glances, marveling at Eren's audacity. Levi's gaze hardened, his stare boring into Eren.
For a long moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, almost to himself, he answered, "My wife."
The collective gasp was audible. Eren blinked, stunned, while the others sat frozen, disbelief etched across their faces.
"She was… your wife?" Eren repeated softly, his voice filled with wonder.
Levi looked at him, his eyes darker now, filled with something unspoken. "Why do you ask?"
Eren hesitated, then said, "She once came to our class. Someone asked her if she was married, and she said, 'I'm married to the most wonderful person I've ever met.'"
Levi's eyes widened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small smile tugged at his lips—a rare, fleeting thing.
"Do you miss her?" Eren asked gently.
Levi's gaze dropped to the table, his voice soft but firm. "Why wouldn't I?"
The weight of Levi's words pressed down on the group, their hearts aching for the man they rarely saw as vulnerable. For the first time, Eren saw him not as the indomitable Captain Levi but as a man carrying the burden of loss.
Levi's squad had been wondering about the change in him, the moments of uncharacteristic silence, the brief flashes of sorrow. Now, it all made sense.
---
As the days passed, Eren's training improved. He learned to harness his focus, transforming with purpose. Levi, too, seemed lighter, as though speaking of Sana had eased a weight he'd carried alone.
When the report of Eren's progress was sent to Erwin, the preparations for the expedition to Shiganshina began. But in the quiet moments, Levi often found himself thinking of Sana—her smile, and the way she could find light even in the darkest of times.
Her absence was a wound that might never heal, but her legacy burned bright in the work she left behind—and in the hearts of those she had touched.