The Shatters of Black Stars

      “To hell with her,” Levi thought for the umpteenth time, walking away down the alley. He was sure she knew where it was headed, sure she’d wanted that kiss, sure she’d been kissing back, sure she—       He kept running the scene on a loop in his skull, viciously: a dark narrow, alley, his heart pounding like a war drum, the smell of her perfume, the thick, breathless air, lips—soft, willing…       He didn’t get it. Not one fucking bit. She’d wanted that kiss. She’d leaned in herself. He’d pulled the same move that always worked. And she’d bitten. Mikasa was just playing the good-girl act, but the flicker of annoyance, the spark in her eyes—it all gave her away. The little game should’ve worked. It always worked.       No one had ever shut him down like that.       His fingers twitched around a pack of cigarettes in his pocket, almost empty. One slipped into his hand. The lighter clicked. Smoke drifted off into the night thin air.       Her face—that’s what gutted him most. She’d almost cried in front of him. What the hell was going through that beautiful head of hers?       Levi strolled aimlessly down the street, cooling off. His thoughts were clearing, slowly. The anger, the sting, started to fade. What scared her off?       How many times had he told himself: forget it. He didn’t need another mess, already drowning in problems, and chasing women was the last thing on his list. But no matter how many times he swore he was wasting his time, he still slipped back into the role of a dog yanked along on a leash. Mikasa was worth it. He couldn’t just let her go.       She’d wanted to say something before her “brother” barged in. Spooked them. Blew it to pieces. Now Levi would have to lay low for a while, in case someone had clocked him. Even for Mikasa, he wasn’t about to gamble that high. He still had enough brains rattling around to keep him cautious.       Picking up a girl in an alley wasn’t exactly a crime, but survival instinct screamed clear out—and Levi had learned to listen.       And that brother of hers… was he really her brother?       Levi had only managed a glimpse. Lean. Tall. Nothing like fragile Mikasa. Had she lied? Didn’t look like it. But that guy was no ordinary man. They didn’t grow men like that in this city.       Levi shook his head. What did it matter if the night was already shot to hell? All that effort—gone. And he’d risked plenty, just to see her.       He let out a long sigh.       The bitter smoke scalded his lungs. The cigarette dropped like a falling star into the gutter. Time to get back to business and quit thinking about women. At least for a while.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Mikasa was rushing to her concert. She was in no mood to sing, but the show didn’t care. The audience didn’t give a damn what was going on inside a woman like her. And honestly, neither did she. On stage the world shrank—down to the vibration in her throat, the burn in her lungs, the strain in her stomach. In those moments, she was nothing but voice. She flew above the crowd, carried somewhere far, slipped not into their ears—no—into their souls, their core, brushed places most people never touched.       At least, that’s what she wanted. She hoped they weren’t just staring—that they were listening, really listening. Mikasa knew she was beautiful, knew her body turned heads, knew the cut of her eyes was unusual, just as she knew that her singing still held people fast.       The admirers she turned down only proved it. She had no illusions about her worth, but if that’s the only way to survive in this world, then let them feed on her. Let them look. As long as she could sing, she didn’t care.       Mikasa wanted to give herself away, whole, to someone who’d love her as she was. Someone who’d crave her as she was. Not reshape her, not lock her in a gilded cage. Someone who’d look at her with the same hunger—whether she was blazing on stage, or at home, at the kitchen table, or in the bedroom, in the half-light, while night fell heavy over the city.       But the one man she’d gladly surrender to didn’t see—or refused to see—the woman in her. And Levi…       Mikasa wanted to see him again. And she hated that want.       Truth was, she hadn’t been sleeping well. The touch of his thin, soft lips, the heat of his hands on her—burned her like hot coals, pulled out something raw and nameless, something she feared. And she wanted it again.       She hadn’t meant to push Levi away. It’s just…       It was her first kiss. And if Eren hadn’t shown up so suddenly, she would’ve explained.       And now here she was, thinking of Eren as the one who ruined it—when in truth, he’d saved her. Once again he’d pulled her back from herself. Mikasa hadn’t fought the new feeling. She only needed a nudge, a word.       But now there was no point in turning it over. How much longer would Levi keep chasing her, getting nothing back?       She’d turned away plenty of men. That part she was good at. But attracting them—truly, so they wanted all of her—that she couldn’t manage. On stage, she could play the star. The moment she stepped off, the shine went out. No longer a bright, distant star in the sky. Just another face in the crowd, hiding the looks.       Only with Levi had it been different.       Until the other night.       If only they’d had more time. If only Eren hadn’t shown up. What would’ve happened? How far would Mikasa have let him go?       She barely noticed someone call to her.       “Miss Ackerman, good day. A minute of your time?”       Mikasa slowed.       “Sorry, I don’t have much time.”       She didn’t even turn her head. Admirers, most likely. On the street she was always cautious. She only spoke to strangers in halls, where the crowd gave her some safety.       “Wait, we need to talk,” the man pressed.       Mikasa turned, irritated—and froze. A jacket with a unicorn patch. Hard eyes. Military Police.       “I don’t think we’ve got anything to talk about,” she said, and hurried on.       Her heart hammered against her ribs. What now? No—what had she done? Sure, she’d run from the MPs, but that was it. Her mind kept telling her she was innocent, that they wouldn’t touch her. Probably.       She needed a plan. Fast. Her stomach knotted, nausea climbing her throat. Should’ve at least had breakfast.       She hadn’t done anything.       All she had with Levi Ackerman were a couple of walks. Mikasa wasn’t tied to him. Not really. Thoughts of turning him in had built to a breaking point, but she couldn’t make herself say anything against him now. She braced herself to lie—a lot.       “Actually, there is something you can tell us…” the officer pushed on.       Mikasa lengthened her stride. Maybe if she walked fast enough, he’d drop it.       “Excuse me, I’m in a hurry.”       “I’m afraid you misunderstand. You’re under arrest, miss.”       Mikasa froze, nailed to the ground. Fear ran cold down her back. That couldn’t be happening. A lump lodged in her throat, made words almost impossible.       “Arrested? For what?”       “We’ll discuss that later. Come with me.”

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Levi was racking his brain over where the serum had gone. It was already stuck in his craw. Just thinking how much time he’d burn hunting it down made him want to tell the whole damn thing to go to hell. He still couldn’t figure out why—or who—had blown his op by siccing a bunch of greenhorns on the job.       Something smelled off, and Levi couldn’t put his finger on it.       Enemies everywhere. Anyone could’ve screwed him over. The Underground crawled with crooks. Plenty of hands itching for the elixir.       If Kenny wasn’t lying, it fetched a hell of a price. Which meant the mob weren’t the only ones itching to get their claws on it.       But who in their right mind would rather tangle with the police and try to lift the serum from them than from the mob? That’s plain bullshit. The police were, first and foremost, a pack of doctrinaire cowards and idiots dancing to the Crown’s tune—but they had resources, money.       Plenty of it. Fanatics, worse than the mob. They knew what they were doing, knew what they were guarding. And who the hell wanted to get on the law’s radar again?       Only if someone wanted the serum to stay put.       Something ugly stirred inside.       Who else could’ve known Levi was heading out on that job? The inside was sealed tight. Loose tongues wagged in the soldiers’ barracks, sure. In their crew you could lose your tongue for far less.       Maybe undermining the op suited one of their own?       Levi braced his hands on his knees, burying his face in callused palms. A tired groan slipped out. How the hell did one cloudy little vial cause this much trouble? Maybe it was gone already, and he and Kenny were chasing their tails. With little hope, Levi said,       “So what’s the plan? What do we do?”       “Find where it landed.” Kenny blew a pale plume.       “Thanks—couldn’t have guessed that myself.”       “Don’t get smart.”       “What else is left? Informants?”       “Quiet as—”       “You can skip the rest.”       Levi sprang to his feet, unable to sit another second. His nerves were shot. Chasing God knows what was past old. Kenny was thoughtfully finishing yet another cigarette. A little more and you could’ve cut the air with a knife.       “Kenny, why the hell are we running around after this serum? Nothing else to steal? The brothel money’s flowing like a river. We’ve got enough to live on. What do we need this for, damn it!”       “It’s the last thing we’ll have to do.”       Levi snapped his head around. His brows climbed. They only ever joked about retirement. Calling it quits on dirty work—never on the table. Levi hadn’t even thought about “after.” Hell, he hadn’t even thought he’d live to Kenny’s age.       A faucet dripped in the bathroom—Levi only noticed now. Fix it later. So many little things he’d have to…       “I’m tired, Levi.”       Real fatigue slid through Kenny’s voice, and Levi returned to the point. His conscience pricked. This much drifting wasn’t like him. And Kenny… He called him an old man for a reason. Behind his back, of course, unless he wanted the old man’s fists to explain how much life was left in him. But time takes its cut.       Kenny had taken him in back when he wasn’t exactly young himself. Now Levi was over thirty, and Kenny was still treated like expendable stock, though he could’ve long since taken a chair upstairs.       “I’m getting old. How much longer am I any use?” Kenny said, as if to prove it—and Levi had to admit he might be right.       No, they didn’t put down the weak like sick lambs, but nobody counted on a quiet old age. Kenny was lucky to have made it this far.       “They respect you,” Levi said, not believing a word. Respect was hot air—gone in a blink. Past glories didn’t buy you much in the mob if now you were just a burden.       “I’m done with handouts. A lifetime running their errands. I’m sick of it. Aren’t you?”       Kenny peered from under the brim. His eyes flashed irritation. He’d said more than once Levi was worth more than the lot of them together, but Levi wasn’t chasing stars. This life suited him—though he was damn tired of the talk. He didn’t have the strength to push back. The drive that once threw him forward—into the next job—had long since gone quiet.       “So what are you proposing?” he asked.       Kenny went silent. He pulled out a crumpled, almost full pack, clenched it in his fist. The pack opened its red maw, showing a neat row of cylinder teeth.       A cigarette flicked into his fingers, then into flame. Kenny lit up. Levi was starting to think there wasn’t enough tobacco in the Underground to feed his uncle’s habit.       “When we get the serum, I’ll fence it myself. We split the cash.”       Levi looked at Kenny. The old man still seemed to have his marbles, but the words sounded like pure madness.       “You’ve lost it. They’ll have you drawn and quartered. The minute they find out—you’re a dead man.”       “The mob’s not in the best shape. It’s not as smooth as it looks from the outside.”       “Don’t talk like you know more than me. You’re the same attack dog as the rest.”       “Can it. Trust my nose. Not everyone loves the bosses. Problems pile up, and the top’s hooked on all that gold we haul them—cut clean off from real business. I’m not thrilled with the crap either. Running pissant errands makes me sick.”       Levi kept quiet. It didn’t sell him.       “We’ll wriggle out. Enough cash fixes anything. And you’ve got your own distractions. Heard you’ve got a new girl…”       “You know every damn thing,” Levi cut him off. He didn’t want word of Mikasa getting around, but even Erd couldn’t keep secrets forever. Information’s bought not with cash but with more stories and gossip. Levi knew that as well as anyone.       “A songbird. Proud. You won’t impress that kind with heroics. They want money. Everyone does. No exceptions.”       Levi sighed. He knew. But you couldn’t bait Mikasa with money. That he understood perfectly. He’d need something else.       “You’re wound up ’cause you haven’t gotten laid in a while,” Kenny smirked.       Levi scowled, shooting him a sharp look.       “Fuck you.”       “I’m serious. You want her, don’t you?”       “Enough, Kenny. She’s not like that. She won’t bite for money.”       Kenny burst out laughing. Levi checked himself. He probably looked like a dumb teenager. Truth be told, that’s exactly how he felt.       “At your age it’s a damn shame to believe that.”       “Not funny.”       “I’m not laughing. I want a quiet old age, and you want cash to blow. We’ll get both. We just have to move the Elixir.”       Levi drifted into thought. Mikasa wouldn’t leave his head. What had he done wrong? Why did this even get to him? The smart move would be to hit the girls for a night, unwind—but the gears kept turning, trying out fixes that might finally make her stop being afraid of him.       What was he short on? Money? Maybe Kenny had a point.       Mikasa had no shortage of rich admirers. They still hadn’t won her over. Why? Maybe she really did have her silly principles. In that case, Levi had the edge. He’d gotten far—farther than all those rich boys. Maybe it was money he lacked. Everything else he had.       He remembered her warm scent, the softness of her lips, that skittish give and sudden fear… Maybe if he left the mob, he’d have a shot. But he’d need an indecent amount of money to go to ground and buy off the law.       Levi shut his eyes, savouring the thought.       Who was that Eren kid? The one who spooked him. Hell—how did he miss it? The kid had a patch on his sleeve. Wings. The Survey Corps.       “Let’s say I can help,” Levi smiled.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Mikasa sat with her head down, staring at her knees. Her hands had clenched into fists. What’s going on—kept circling in her head. What could they even hold her for? They couldn’t have grabbed her just because she’d been seen with Ackerman a couple of times… She was angry.       Angry at her own stupidity, at her refusal to push Levi away. If only she’d handed him to the police right off the bat! She’d have had no trouble. She’d have forgotten all about Ackerman in a couple of days. But could she really have done that, after she’d helped him, after the way he’d looked at her?       Something in Mikasa had changed for good that day, and she didn’t like those changes.       “Well then, miss, want to tell us everything yourself?”       “What exactly am I supposed to tell you?”       Mikasa barely kept the acid out of her voice. Nasty little ploy. So that’s how their “law” works? She tried to steady herself. They were doing their job—one way or another. And Mikasa was in a tight spot. Still, holding her tongue didn’t come easy.       She hated the police. For their booze-soaked soldiers swaggering around town with guns, for the rough handling—and on top of that, for trying to kill Eren.       She’d learned about it by chance. Eren, of course, would never have told her. She read in the paper that someone had caused a scene at the walls, but the write-up said nothing clear. She would have stayed in the dark if not for the name tucked at the bottom of the page.       A young cadet. Eren Yeager.       Asking Eren for details was pointless, so, mustering all her feminine cunning, Mikasa caught Armin during his next leave and demanded he tell her everything.       Armin didn’t put up much of a fight. He told all he knew.       With every word, her blood ran colder. Mikasa couldn’t believe her ears—that those monsters, grown men, had trained their guns on practically a child, on Eren. And if not for their commander—Erwin Smith—who stood up for him, Eren would already be dead.       She couldn’t forgive the police for that. Not even after Eren finally told her about the Titan power.       Still. Eren was a kid. And they…       After that, Mikasa’s view of the police was set in stone. And when they were ready to throw her—just a singer—under the cart to catch Levi Ackerman, she became certain the law had nothing in common with those ragged bastards enforcing it.       But Levi was still a criminal, her restless mind insisted, and Mikasa tried—honestly tried—to make herself accept that simple fact. She just couldn’t.       It was the police who’d tried to shoot her, and Ackerman who wouldn’t let them. He could’ve, to save himself. She’d been mad at him already—and yet she’d learned she wasn’t in danger at his side. At least Levi kept insisting on it.              Contradictions tore her up. She sat in a place that could help her. They could free her from all this mental wrestling. All she had to do was tell them everything she knew about Levi. She didn’t know too much, but in her case any scrap might be useful. Then they’d catch Levi, and she’d go on living like before. Go on hoping for a miracle. That Eren would finally come to his senses and accept her feelings.       Levi wasn’t a good man. He’d killed, he’d robbed. No—he was still doing it. Mikasa had no illusions there. But that searing kiss wouldn’t leave her head. For the first time, her heart had answered to someone else’s touch with real warmth. Never had she reached for anyone so hard—other than once, for Eren. There was no going back now.       Mikasa couldn’t betray a man who’d risked himself just to be near her. Eren risked himself only to stay further away.       The contrast tore her open. Understanding hit like a stone dropping inside. That was enough thinking to settle how she’d play it here.       The Military Police soldier waited in silence, not answering her question, and Mikasa kept just as quiet, refusing to help these…       The soldier paced the room, impatient, coming closer. She felt everything in her tighten. If this man laid a hand on her, Mikasa would quit playing the helpless girl.       “You understand you’re in a very poor position. If you keep quiet, it’ll only go worse for you.”       “Then ask a question. Maybe I can find you an answer.”       He sighed heavily. Mikasa wanted to know his name—wanted to smear it across his smirking face along with that oily “miss” of his, polite on the surface. She couldn’t recall that fleeing bullets counted as a crime in their books. What she could do was file a complaint up the chain about how they’d handled her here. Practically dragged her into this stone room that stank of damp like it was her who’d pointed a gun at the police in that bar.       She sat with her head high, knowing she could defend herself.       At last the soldier caved.       “Fine. What do you know about Levi Ackerman?”       “I don’t know anything.”       “That’s where you’re wrong. You were at the bar the day he slipped us. We even think you helped him get away.”       “No. You’re the ones who are in the wrong. I tried to run away from a bar where your people almost shot me while they were trying to grab your Ackerman.”       Mikasa ran the angles fast. She could hold her line, make the police believe she knew nothing.       “You fled together.”       “That's only your guess. He ran out after me when I tried to hide in the back rooms. I’ve no idea where he went after. And I don’t care. I should be grateful you didn’t manage to shoot me and he had better things to do than hurt me. Don’t you think the police owe me an apology?”       “Apologies for the misunderstanding. But you should know, he’s a dangerous criminal—we want him at any cost.” For a heartbeat, guilt flickered in his voice, but it was a trick. His face didn’t even twitch.       “You’re saying that to me—the one who almost paid any price in his place?”       Mikasa was mouthing off. A thin voice of conscience begged her not to, but she had no choice. Yes, she’d helped Levi get away, but only because the police stuck in her throat. And her conscience gnawed her for it.       Rather, she would’ve felt guilty—if that dangerous criminal hadn’t twice helped her and treated her so warmly. She’d bite off her tongue before she helped them hunt him down.       “Miss, you have to understand. The police work for the common good. We’re sorry you got caught up in this because of us. But you must have valuable information.”       He’d slumped somehow, as if losing confidence. Looked like she’d found a way to slip the noose. Mikasa realised she could bluff. They had nothing.       “Where did he take you? Anything helps.”       “I don’t know. I was so scared I ran the first chance I got. He wasn’t interested in me, so he didn’t chase me.”       “Where did you part ways?”       “I’m telling you—I hid in the back, then ran out of the bar and straight home. Where your Ackerman went, I haven’t the faintest idea. If that’s all, let me go.”       Mikasa rose from the chair, but the soldier set a firm hand on her shoulder. She had to sit. Now she got even more anxious.       His face turned into a blank mask. She’d made a mistake. She should’ve just sat tight and kept her mouth shut. Her haste had tipped him off.       His hand felt hot and clammy even through the fabric, and nausea rolled up. She wanted to jerk free, but feared it’d look like resisting, and then her trouble would get a lot worse.       Trying to calm down, Mikasa drew a deep breath.       Heavy silence settled in the room. The clock on the wall ticked slow. Mikasa glanced at the time—and her throat clenched. The concert was in no time. She wouldn’t make it.       He caught her glance, turning toward the clock. Perceptive. Where was that sharp eye when Levi Ackerman was strolling the streets? Something stank here.       “Don’t rush, miss. You ran from the police right after meeting Ackerman. Why? You didn’t come to us the next day, nor the day after. Don’t you find that suspicious?”       He was looking at her now with a completely cooled gaze, and Mikasa realised pressure wouldn’t crack him. Time to change tactics. He’d have to let her go sooner or later anyway. Better that she make her show.       She sighed softly, dropped her eyes to her palms, fingers worrying the thin fabric of her dress.       “I just got scared. You know, it’s terrifying when several big men come at you, and just days ago you were almost shot.” Her voice came out softer, gentler.       “Miss Ackerman, you understand jokes with the police can end badly for you…”       Mikasa cut him off—her last shot—before he reached the heart of it.       “I still shudder thinking about that night. I hid behind a table and bullets were flying past. I thought I wouldn’t get out alive!”       She snapped her head up, staring him down, studying that distracted face from inches away. Her eyes stung. Good. Tears now would be a lucky break.       She prayed to the Goddesses they’d believe her. She barely believed herself. Even now, sitting in an interrogation room like a real criminal, instead of calmly answering questions and walking out, putting it behind her like a bad dream—she couldn’t shake the feel of Levi Ackerman’s hands holding her with such care, his mouth hot on hers. The image wouldn’t let her think straight.       A fine tremor skittered through her. She wanted his lips on hers again.       She shook her head. Now was the time to think about getting out of the police, not about Levi’s kisses.       With a heavy breath Mikasa parted her lips, ready to spill another sob-story on the soldier—       The door banged open behind her. Mikasa flinched, forgetting at once what she’d been about to say. She turned toward the noise.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Levi stood in the crowd, blending in with the rest of the spectators. He shifted from foot to foot, annoyed. He’d told himself—no more chasing after Mikasa. But he hadn’t been able to keep that promise. And with Kenny and his damn sob stories… he was out of options. He had to help him, and maybe help himself along the way.       The big open-air stage was visible from far off. Levi would’ve liked to slip closer, into the front rows, to see Mikasa up close—but showing his face too much wasn’t worth the risk. Teasing the law had to be done in small doses.       The stage looked too fancy for his taste. Huge vases stuffed with flowers, columns slapped together from who-knows-what, trees strung with ribbons, and a shiny white grand piano dead center. Gaudy, cloying—sweet enough to rot your teeth.       But he was waiting only for Mikasa. Levi was sure she’d outshine all the tacky decor, blazing brighter than the stars in whatever glittering gown she’d chosen tonight.       He shook his head. Thinking like some damn romantic. Dangerous habit. For him it could end badly, but keeping it in check was harder than it should’ve been.       Just days ago he’d been ready to cut this obsession loose. But after that talk with Kenny, doubt had crept in. What if he really did rake in a pile of cash and walk away from the business? No more working like a whipped dog. Something cleaner. Would Mikasa stop fearing him then? Would he finally get what he wanted?       The bouquet in his hands spread a sweet scent. Imagine that—Levi Ackerman hauling flowers for a songbird. But there was no other way now. He hoped that after the concert he’d see her again—that she wouldn’t run, wouldn’t hide. And maybe, just maybe, he’d steal another kiss.       A long, sour creak of strings dragged through the air, horns buzzing, folding into the racket of the crowd. The concert was starting.       Then silence—all at once—hands of the pianist falling on the snow-white keys. Music flowed out.       Levi wasn’t listening. None of it mattered. He leaned lazily against a wall, waiting only for her—for the real siren who could hex him with the sound of her voice.       Pretty melodies blurred into background noise. Levi’s mind was on that guy who’d called to Mikasa. He wanted to see her, to know—did he still have a chance, or had he wrecked it for good, leaving her with no interest, no wish to stand by him again?       Time dragged. The tunes grew more monotonous, every bit of it just clatter to his ears. He wasn’t used to this kind of thing. He’d rather hear her sing the simple songs in a smoky bar packed with drunks. That was tolerable. This lofty music for connoisseurs was a bore.       Awe gave way to irritation.       He was waiting for Mikasa.       The city clock crept toward ten, and she was nowhere. Levi’s gut tightened. Had Erd screwed it up? No way. That rat could sniff out where even the sewer vermin ran. Levi didn’t want to think of any other explanations.       Mikasa always showed for her concerts. Something had happened—he could feel it. But the show went on as though it hadn’t, and Levi kept waiting, scanning the crowd.       He wasn’t the only one uneasy. People were trading glances. Not a single song had left the stage.       The tall pianist in his pale suit finished the piece, and the hall erupted in applause. Levi stood there, puzzled. There was supposed to be a singer. Where the hell was she?       They were waiting for Mikasa—you could see it in the sour faces of the audience.       Levi chose to linger a little longer. Slowly, people started to file out. He caught grumbles, whispers, her name on their lips—but nothing useful.       A sticky unease twisted in his chest. His fingers found the pack of cigarettes. One hot drag dulled the edge of his irritation.       The city wasn’t safe. Too many like him skulked around here. Had something happened to Mikasa? Maybe someone had spotted them together and decided to screw him over? Worse—had the cops sniffed out their little walks?       If something happened to her because of him… Levi knew he’d never win her over. That thought gnawed at him. And when the crowd thinned, he flicked his cigarette onto the cobblestones and slipped out with the others, just another scowling face in the flow.       He was heading back to the Underground. Only one man could help him now.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the office, his face all too familiar. Erwin Smith. Commander of the Survey Corps. What was he doing here?       A flicker of hope lit up inside her. If he recognised her, maybe he’d help her walk free.       But her heart pounded harder when his icy eyes swept over her. Not a flicker of recognition.       “Miss…”       “Ackerman, sir,” Mikasa forced out.       She wasn’t about to tempt fate. The Military Police didn’t scare her. Like the Garrison, they were known layabouts. Mikasa had seen firsthand how “well” they worked. But the Survey Corps… they stirred a different kind of dread.       Erwin Smith had been to the front lines. His whole frame radiated strength and command. Mikasa felt the weight of his stare the moment he heard her name.       “Ackerman, is it,” Smith drawled, and Mikasa shivered. He was looking down at her, and a chill crept up her spine.       Tall, broad, commanding. He was fear embodied. His piercing eyes studied her, and she felt stripped bare. Again she was being looked at like meat on the slab, not a living woman.       The reason was obvious. Which was why Mikasa never gave her last name unless she had to. And how the hell was she supposed to explain she wasn’t kin to that Ackerman?       “I know how it sounds, but we’re not related,” Mikasa said, and Smith’s stare raked over her again. What was he trying to read? Her whole damn family tree?       “Your face is familiar…” he muttered, and a wave of relief washed over her.       “I’m a friend of your subordinate, sir. Eren Yeager.”       For a split second the mask of coldness slipped. Recognition lit his face, but he snapped it back under control. In his eyes she saw nothing but a gleam that promised no good. What was going on in that brilliant head of his?       His gaze unsettled her. Those were the eyes of a man ready to climb over corpses, burn every bridge for his goal. Yet at the same time, his clear blue eyes carried a strange pull, a secret, a reminder of the man who’d put her in this chair in the first place.       And what the hell was the Commander of the Survey Corps even doing here? Weren’t they at odds with the MPs?       “Well then, a pleasure to finally meet in person.”       Smith smiled, and Mikasa feigned ease. But next to him she felt caged, cornered. Now she understood—he was studying her. Of course he was. Far sharper than that Military Police mutt. With Smith she’d have to tread very carefully.       “Me too. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said.       “I’d prefer we’d met under better circumstances, but fate has its own ideas. They’ve told you why you’re here?”       “Yes, sir.”       “Drop the “sir.” You’re not my subordinate.”              “As you say.”       Mikasa fell quiet. She studied him, careful not to stare. She’d have preferred to see him in the audience at her concert. The interrogation room was hardly the place for introductions. But Smith’s gaze made her skin crawl. He knew exactly what he was doing.       His voice cut through the heavy silence.       “Are you all right? You don’t look well.”       She imagined what she must look like: red-rimmed eyes, hair disheveled. A sight fit for the stage of a brothel.       “I’m accused of conspiring with a dangerous criminal. How else should I look? And I’ve missed my concert. That’s a blow to my reputation.”       “We’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”       Smith rubbed his eyes, crossing something off his papers. But his weariness seemed staged. Mikasa couldn’t believe a man like him could get tired. And besides, this wouldn’t be “handled.” Too many had seen her being led away. Trouble was already on its way. If she ever got invited to sing in a decent hall again, it’d be a miracle.       “Listen. Just because I share the name doesn’t mean I’ve had a hand in his crimes. I told you already—right after the shootout I…”       “Leave us,” Smith said sharply, cutting her off.       Mikasa startled. The soldiers exchanged sour looks but obeyed. What twas it? Why did MPs jump to the word of a man from another branch?       The door slammed shut. Smith leaned back in his chair, posture easing. Mikasa didn’t know what to do with herself, or what this shift meant. Still, without the Military Police breathing down her neck, it was a touch easier.       “Better?” — Smith smiled.       “What makes you think so?”       “I saw you relax the moment they left. I can always call them back.”       Smith opened his mouth again, and Mikasa quickly weighed her options. Speaking with him was better. At least he wasn’t pawing at her, and he kept his distance.       “No need.”       “I thought not. They probably scared you.”       “I wouldn’t say that…”       She wasn’t sure how to play this. With the soldiers it had been simple. But Smith wasn’t even police. What did he want from her? Yet next to him, she did feel a little calmer. He inspired trust. Almost as if he truly might help her. For the first time, connections didn’t seem such a bad thing.       What would have become of her if she hadn’t been Eren’s friend?       “Don’t worry. You won’t be held.”       His low voice resonated in her chest, and Mikasa exhaled, relief sneaking out of her without permission. She lifted her eyes to him, silently begging to be released already.       “Commander Smith, I really don’t understand why I’m here. You could be questioning anyone who’s ever laid eyes on Ackerman. What good does this do?”       “You’re right. But that’s police work—interview everyone.”       Mikasa nodded. Of course. In their line, even scraps of information could matter. She knew that. And she knew they had good reason to press her. Which was exactly why she dared not say more. She was terrified she might spill something she shouldn’t.       The clock on the wall ticked with an ugly snap. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The rhythm pressed against her temples, nagged at her nerves like a metronome meant to bring order, but only made the music falter.       “Does Eren know you’ve been seeing Ackerman?” Smith finally asked, and Mikasa jerked.       “We’re not…”       “Don’t palter. You don’t have to tell the MPs. They won’t know.”       “Don’t push me.”       “Wouldn’t dream of it. But remember—even walls have ears. And men like me sometimes attend those social functions. It wouldn’t take much to notice you leaving quietly with a wanted man.”       Mikasa froze. She realised just how precarious her position had become. If Smith wasn’t bluffing—and she doubted he was—then she was in real trouble now. And the worst part was the single thought pounding in her head: if they let her go, she could never see Levi again.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Time had forever preserved the Underground City. The same stone alleys, filthy and dust-choked, the same stench of damp and mold. And yet, beneath all the rot, the Underground carried its own twisted charm.       Levi couldn’t quite name the feeling. Here, where law meant nothing, where everyone did as they pleased—or as much as they could—there was a taste of freedom. No. A rancid aftertaste.       Freedom intoxicated. It stripped men of reason, turned them into beasts. Break them out of their cages and they lost their minds, poisoned by impunity, swallowed whole by their own vices.       And the surface dwellers came down too. Brothels, bars, perversions—anything this world could offer, you could find here. This was what Levi had grown up in. This was home.       Here he moved like a fish in water. He knew when to bolt, when to strike.       The city had never sat right with him. But now, walking the alleys he knew by heart, walls steeped in ugly memories, he felt something close to calm.       Nerves still twisted in his gut, but each step that brought him closer to Erd’s bar eased the weight. The uncertainty was eating him alive. Erd would rid him of it.       Since Mikasa, Levi had lost his grip on himself. He’d never given a damn about women before. The ones he’d known led harsh lives—getting sick, dying young. He’d never tied himself to anyone, not after watching his mother burn out so fast.       He did it without thought. He never courted, never chased skirts, never wasted energy on wooing. In his world women were just another commodity—something to pass the time with, take the edge off, drown the loneliness for a night or two.       Love and all that came with it? Dead weight. After Farlan and Isabel, Levi had thrown himself into the work. Petty thefts, odd jobs—anything to keep the grief from choking him. He hadn’t noticed when the mafia swallowed him whole.       But with Mikasa, it was like waking from a long sleep. He hated the word, but there was no other for it. Romance. Lose her, and he’d sink back into the grind, the endless days broken only by the blur of nameless women whose faces faded as quickly as dreams.       No. He wasn’t ready to crawl back into that grave. Not now.       Levi wasn’t one to search for beauty in filth, but with Mikasa, something had cracked open in him. It scared him, but for the first time he felt alive. He had a goal now. His own. And he wanted to chase it.       He thought how her beauty would blaze even brighter against the backdrop of this ruin. Not that he’d drag her underground—but part of him wanted to see it, that contrast.       Levi shook his head. What good were those thoughts if he didn’t even know she was safe?       But not thinking of her was impossible. Her face, her body, her voice—all of it had rooted deep inside him. He no longer fought the image, he carried it willingly, dragging it with him through the bowels of the city toward Erd and the answers he needed.       To steer clear of the darker thoughts, Levi let himself daydream for once. Not about another night with some girl, not about easy money, but about the future.       Kenny had forced him to face the truth: their game with the mafia couldn’t last forever. Kenny was right—they were too valuable to be allowed to walk free once they tried to quit. They’d have to play it smarter. But Levi shoved that aside for now. He wanted different thoughts. A future. What he’d do when he finally scraped together enough cash.       He’d win Mikasa over. Be her patron. Build her a mansion in the capital, decked out with every luxury. If only she was safe. If only they could get their hands on the damn serum and sell it off. Too many “ifs.” Too many strings attached.       Daydreams brought no comfort. They could all go to hell if something had happened to her. And something had happened. He felt it in his bones.       God, how he wanted to see her now, drag her away from this city. Away from the MPs, the mafia, the rich bastards who sniffed around her, the drunks in bars. Away from that so-called “brother” of hers who kept getting in the way.       Levi longed to give in to the illusion, but the unease gnawed at him.       And how the hell was he supposed to work in this state?       Only now did he notice the bouquet still in his hand, pristine and white. Something twitched inside. What the hell was he doing?       The flowers fell in a bright heap onto a pile of filth. Too clean for this place.       Levi quickened his pace toward Erd’s tavern, praying he’d find the man sober enough to string two words together.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Mikasa kept silent. Just the thought that she’d have to let go of feelings barely born made her chest tighten, but she shoved it aside. She’d think about it later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was keeping her mask on and getting out of here.       Gods… what if Eren found out? Then it would be over. She’d never win his love. And how could she explain that she’d never gone looking for Levi herself?       She saw him only because he was the one man who made her feel like a woman—beautiful, desired, living. Not someone’s childhood friend. Not a pretty picture on stage. Alive.       Erwin exhaled heavily. Mikasa risked a glance.       “I don’t care about your honesty or your relationships. But I’ll warn you—this man isn’t being hunted for nothing. He’s dangerous. Deadly serious. Whatever promises he made, whatever words he whispered—remember this: he’s a killer. His place is behind bars. I’ll help you, if you help me.”       His bright eyes cut across her face, sharp as glass, but Mikasa held his stare. If she was going to lie, she’d lie to the bitter end.       But God, it was frightening. If she gave Levi up, that would be the end of them too.       She’d told herself again and again—it was nothing. A passing madness, a fling that didn’t even deserve the word. Just a fascination. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to hand Levi over. Let Smith think what he wanted—until she opened her mouth, they couldn’t prove a damn thing.       But if she stayed silent and it all came out, her reputation was finished. So were her concerts. So was her name. Arrest, interrogations, prison bars—that’s what waited for her. And the only key to safety sat right across from her: Erwin Smith.       Could she trust him? Would he really help her if she opened up? She wasn’t sure. A man like Commander Smith could do anything, play anyone.       “You understand you’re in a bad spot. If the police find out you’re lying, you’re done. Best to keep clear of Ackerman. And if he shows himself—come straight to me. Not the police. Me.”       “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”       “Have it your way.”       He broke eye contact, and it felt like the strings pulling at her joints snapped loose. She breathed easier.       “Eren’s in my good books. I trust him almost as much as myself. I want his head clear, focused on his work. He doesn’t need distractions. I’m sure you understand. So here’s some advice—be very careful.”       “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”       The silence in the room turned heavy. Smith was waiting for something, but Mikasa wasn’t fool enough to walk into such a simple trap.       “Well, if you truly have nothing more to say…”       He paused, shoved his chair back with a scrape, rose, circled around her, and looked out the door.       The MPs filed back in, lining the wall. Even the one who’d acted bold with her earlier kept his head down now. They knew when to tuck their tails. And how free they felt, swaggering in front of a woman.       Disgusting.       Mikasa forced her features into the mask she’d practiced so many times—calm, detached. The most she could show was unease. That one emotion she didn’t need to fake.       “Let her go, — Smith finally said.”       The soldiers exchanged sour looks.       “But sir, she’s a key witness, she knows plenty, she just won’t—”       “Orders came down about who runs this interrogation. Follow them. Details later.”       Their faces tightened. You could practically feel their resentment in the air. But Mikasa’s heart leapt—was it over?       “Don’t waste my time. My apologies, Mikasa. They’ll take you wherever you need. Where were you headed?”       “No need. I’ve already missed my concert. I’ll walk, if you don’t mind.”       She gave him a meaningful look, praying he’d understand just how badly she wanted out of the MPs’ company. Their eyes met once more, and all she saw in that clear blue was emptiness. Impossible to tell what he was thinking.       “As you wish, — Erwin said, turning on his heel and leaving the room.”       The soldiers glared at her, one muttering to the other, before trailing after their commander. The last one held the door open with a curt gesture.       Mikasa finally exhaled, relief pouring out of her. She’d slipped through this time. But would she be so lucky again?       No, she told herself. There wouldn’t be a next time.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Luck was on Levi’s side tonight.       “Long time no see, man!” came a voice from the back of the bar. Levi gave the smallest nod in return.       A handful of men were scattered around the place, but the second they caught sight of his sour expression, they melted into the corners. The chatter at the counter dried up too once Levi scraped a chair back.       “You’re scaring off my customers, ” Erd smirked, then shut his mouth when he saw Levi’s face.       “I need help.”       Levi dropped onto a stool, elbows braced on the counter.       “Cigarette first?” Erd offered.       Levi hesitated a second, shook his head, then dug out his own pack. He’d rushed over so hard he’d nearly forgotten the habit. The lighter snapped, throwing an orange flash across his hands. A thin line of smoke curled upward as Levi inhaled, eyes narrowing.       He stared at the glowing tip, trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to explain that he’d fallen for a songbird and was now losing his mind because she hadn’t shown up on stage.       “Something happened?” Erd asked, shoving a mug of booze his way.       Levi shook his head and pushed it aside. His chest was already in knots.       “Mikasa wasn’t at the concert. I need to know why.”       Erd let out a low chuckle.       “Maybe she had a headache. You’re seriously kicking up dust over that? Look at yourself, Levi. You’re not yourself.”       “I know. But I’ve got a bad feeling.”       “She’s a woman. Who knows what she got up to. Why’s it your problem?”       “If you can’t help me, then shut the fuck up.”       “Hey, hey. Who said I can’t? No need to bite my head off.”       “I’m not joking.”       “Yeah, I can see that.”       Levi shot him a look. The confusion on Erd’s face was almost insulting. Did he really look that far gone?       “I know how I must look. But I need you to find her.”       “That’s not the kind of info I can dig up quick. You know that.”       Levi thought about showing up at Mikasa’s place, but tossed it aside instantly. She wasn’t waiting for him. With anyone else, he’d have kicked the door in and not given a damn. But dragging trouble to her doorstep? No. And telling Erd her address would put her straight under the mafia’s thumb. That he couldn’t allow.       Levi sighed hard. He hated that Mikasa was turning into a weakness.       “If it makes you feel better, our guys have bigger problems. Nobody’s got time to mess with you.” Erd snatched his own mug, took a long gulp. “Shame you turned this down. Good brew.”       “Call me crazy, but I know something’s wrong. Ask around.”       Erd didn’t answer. His doughy face looked slack, stupid even—small eyes, round nose, thick lips—but Levi knew better. Erd was one of the sharpest bastards he’d ever met. That fool’s mask was his best disguise. Nobody suspected the man pulling strings from the shadows. Still waters run deep.       “Erd. Find out what happened to her.”       Levi’s voice cracked sharp, surprising even him. It rang in his ears like glass. He’d gotten in too deep too fast. A man like him wasn’t supposed to have ties. That only ended one way. But it was too late—he couldn’t let Mikasa slip away, not now, not when it had just begun.       “You know you can count on me,” Erd finally grinned.       That sly grin grounded Levi again. Right. If anyone could dig her up, it was this bastard. Erd would find out. And for once, Levi would trust someone else with the ache gnawing in his chest.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Mikasa walked out of the police building with her head high, spine straight, every line of her body radiating offence at the insult—accused of being tied to a criminal.       But once the building was behind her, her shoulders sagged, and a heavy breath slipped free. She leaned against the sun-warmed stone wall and smoothed her hair back with a trembling hand.       What the hell kind of game was she playing?       She’d known from the start it wouldn’t end well. If Erwin knew about her connection to Levi, she’d never be safe again. Neither would he.       They couldn’t see each other anymore, and the thought gnawed at her.       Mikasa tried to tell herself it was for the best. That criminals had no place in her life. That she should focus on herself, on Eren, just like before. But Levi had blown into her life like a storm—tore it all apart and left it in ruins. And somehow it felt like only he could put it back in order again. When he was near, the noise in her head gave way to silence, a strange and dangerous sense of safety.       Everything was too tangled. She never should’ve let him close. That was her first mistake. She shouldn’t have let herself think of him, dream of him, wait for him. There were plenty of other men—respectable, wealthy, clean. But she’d stepped on the same rake again, reaching for the one man who only made her life worse.       The thought of never seeing him again stabbed at her. She didn’t want Levi in danger. She didn’t want to end up the scapegoat herself.       And why couldn’t she fall for some ordinary city boy? No shady work, no blood on his hands. At least one of her patrons, for God’s sake. What did she do to deserve this? Was she cursed to be miserable?       Her throat tightened, and fear chased her down, hot tears pricking at her eyes.       No. She wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not now.       She shook her head, forced her feet to move.       The concert was over, and she hadn’t even touched the stage. That was the problem now—not her infatuation, not the fear for Levi—but how she’d explain her absence.       And what a scandal it would be, if word got out she’d been dragged in by the police. Her reputation would sink like a stone unless she came up with something fast.       She’d seen it before—competitors choking on gossip until they disappeared. If they were lucky, they ended up singing in dive bars. If not… brothels.       Mikasa had been lucky. When things went bad, Eren had always been there. Most didn’t have anyone.       She feared that without him, she’d be utterly alone. She had to cling to him—the one man who was always there, steady, helping her from the shadows. Not Levi, a man she hardly knew.       She couldn’t afford to be one of the unlucky.       Was Levi really worth her career? She’d worked too hard, walked too far.       And still, shaking him from her thoughts was too hard.