The war table was lit by the flickering glow of lanterns, its surface crowded with inked lines, tattered maps, and sharpened silence. Mikasa stood at its head, arms crossed, her gaze locked on the terrain sketches as if willing them to betray the future. Behind her, the room was filled with soldiers, but only three truly mattered in that moment: Armin, Eren, and Annie.
Annie leaned back against the far wall, arms folded, unreadable. "So, this is how you run things now," she said, not really asking.
Mikasa didn't look up. "We run what needs to be run. You can fall in line, or step out of the way."
Armin looked between them with the practiced neutrality of someone used to tension between two blades. "We're assigning wings. The terrain's rough. If we split north and east, we can circle them before they regroup."
Eren, slouched with his boots on the table, added, "What matters is that no one goes rogue. Especially not you, Annie."
She didn't flinch. "Then don't slow me down."
Mikasa spoke again, calm and final. "Armin will lead the left wing. I'll take the right. Eren runs support between us. And Annie…"
Everyone looked up.
Mikasa's eyes met hers like a command already given. "You're with me."
Annie straightened. "I was under Armin."
"You're not anymore," Mikasa replied.
The silence that followed wasn't confusion. It was awareness. Everyone in that room could feel the weight of the decision. The shift. The sharp current under Mikasa's composed tone.
Eren gave a small smirk. "Guess someone's on a leash this time."
Armin cleared his throat. "Is this necessary?"
Mikasa folded the map and finally looked up. Her voice didn't change.
"She disobeyed last time. Ignored flank orders, risked collapse of the eastern push. That doesn't get passed over."
"So it's punishment?" Eren asked.
"It's containment."
Annie let the word hang in the air before pushing off the wall and approaching the table. "You think keeping me close will stop me?"
Mikasa met her gaze, steady as stone. "No. But it ensures I'm the one who handles it when you try."
No one spoke after that.
They dismissed in quiet groups, tension coiled under every bootstep. Armin lingered. When only the three of them remained, he asked, softly, "You sure this is the best call?"
Mikasa was already rolling up the remaining map. "She crossed a line. Now she learns what happens when you do that."
Armin didn't argue. He just watched her a moment longer, then left.
The door closed behind him.
Mikasa stood alone, staring at the place where Annie had stood. Her fingers curled tighter around the rolled parchment.
No, this wasn't about obsession.
It was about discipline.
And discipline had to be *earned*.