The barracks had emptied long ago, and the faint clang of distant metal was all that remained. Annie sat alone near the training wall, unstrapping her gear one piece at a time. She wasn't in a hurry. She never was. Not when silence wrapped around her like armor.
She'd left formation early. Just a few minutes. Not enough to matter — unless someone wanted it to.
And Mikasa Ackerman always did.
The door creaked open behind her.
Annie didn't turn. She just listened to the rhythm of the approaching footsteps, calm and precise. She knew them by heart now, though she'd never admit it.
"You left before the final command," Mikasa said, voice low, unreadable.
Annie didn't look up. "I completed the drill."
"That wasn't the command."
There was no anger in her tone — only fact. The kind that offered no space for excuse.
Annie finally raised her head. Mikasa stood a few paces away, arms crossed over her chest, dark eyes fixed on her like a weight. She didn't move. Didn't blink. She didn't need to.
"I've done that drill a hundred times," Annie said.
"Not under me."
A pause stretched out between them, the kind that wasn't silence so much as pressure. Something waiting to snap.
Mikasa stepped forward. Slowly. Annie stayed seated, her eyes narrowing just slightly as her superior came close — too close.
Mikasa didn't stop until their boots nearly touched.
"Stand up," she said.
Annie did. Not because she had to, but because refusing would give too much away.
Mikasa reached out, unfastening the harness strap that still clung to Annie's waist. Her fingers moved with practiced control, brushing against fabric with deliberate precision. Not rough. Not gentle. Just exact.
Annie held still, tension drawn tight under her skin.
Then Mikasa raised her hand — slow, almost thoughtful — and let her gloved fingers drift along the edge of Annie's collar. She didn't touch skin. Not quite. But the leather passed just beneath her jaw, hovering like a threat.
Annie's pulse stuttered. She hated that she felt it.
Mikasa's gaze didn't waver. "You never look afraid," she murmured, voice low, close. "But your pulse always gives you away."
Her hand hovered at Annie's neck, just there, just enough.
Annie didn't speak. She barely breathed.
Then Mikasa stepped back. The space she left behind felt colder than it should've.
"You'll be here again tomorrow. Same time. No excuses."
Annie clenched her jaw. She gave no answer. There was nothing to say that wouldn't sound like surrender.
"Don't make me come this close again," Mikasa said. And she was already walking away.
The door opened. Then closed.
Alone again, Annie finally exhaled.
She stood there for a while, staring at nothing, the ghost of those fingers still pulsing at her neck.
She told herself she hated her.
But hate wasn't supposed to feel like this.