Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moment Levi’s name is called, Hange takes it upon herself to stay strong. 

She buried her nails deep into her palms as she stood there in silence, trying with all her might to stop the rage churning within her. Hange resisted the urge to shout at Erwin, beg him with all her heart to please, take that name back—

Instead, Hange bit her lip and closed her eyes, because there is nothing she can do but watch as the reaping takes another innocent soul into the battlefield. Unfortunately for her, and a family whose welfare was threatened by the horrors of the Seam, it is Levi Ackerman who is called to die. 

When Hange opened her dark orbs once more, she focused her gaze on the crowd, scanning it expertly as she tried to locate the very people he would leave behind. 

Levi is walking towards the stage obediently. His face, projected on the large screen for everyone to gawk at, is emotionless. Despite this, Hange knew the terror in his mind and the worry in his heart at the thought of his family. Kuchel, who had nearly been bedridden because of an illness District 12 had no cure for; Isabel and Farlan, such innocent souls deprived of parental figures whom Levi took under his wing; and the youngest: sweet, beautiful Mikasa who was doomed to a life inhaling the remnants of burning coal. Hange maintained her silence, along with the rest of the crowd, as Levi continued his trek towards the stage. 

Suddenly, the still atmosphere was disturbed by a piercing scream. 

Hange’s eyes widened automatically, her instincts automatically telling her to stay alert. Her line of vision shifted from Levi’s face on the screen to the audience. She knew that voice, if she wasn’t mistaken, that would be—

“Mikasa!” Levi shouted in both anger and concern. He looked absolutely livid, ready to run to his younger sibling in response, but peacekeepers had already blocked his path. 

Hange placed a comforting hand on Petra’s shoulder as she walked past both the young girl and Erwin. Her eyes were still trained on Levi. This is dangerous , she thought, her eyebrows scrunching in worry. If Levi fought back, he wouldn’t even have a chance to survive in the games. 

The boy knew this, apparently, as he succumbed to the pull of the peacekeepers and allowed himself to be dragged towards the stage. His eyes betrayed his body, and Hange could see Levi grit his teeth and growl as he shouted at Mikasa continuously to “stay back.”

But Mikasa is shouting Levi’s name like a mantra, her childlike voice high and quivering. The tone of her voice revealed her desperation. Hange’s heart hurts at the sound, but there is nothing she can do but watch as Levi shouted at his sister to stay away. His warnings were, of course, not heeded, and Hange looked on in slight amazement as Mikasa stubbornly didn’t stop. 

As Levi was dragged and manhandled up the stage, Hange’s amber eyes met his steel blue ones for the briefest of moments. 

It was all Hange needed to understand what Levi wanted her to do. 

She glanced back at him in response and held his gaze for about a second. His eyes softened, and they looked away just as quickly as their eyes had met. 

When Hange stepped down the stage, Mikasa was looking at Erwin, begging him with words Hange could only scream in her head. “Please,” the young girl said, her palms flat on the floor and tears streaming down her eyes. “Please don’t make him go.”

Hange decided that it was already time for her to intervene at the sound of the child’s voice trembling. Gently, Hange placed a hand atop Mikasa’s head. She could feel the thin strands of dark hair between her fingertips, lined with droplets of sweat and the tiniest hint of ash.

“Mikasa’s your name, right?” 

The tributes were allowed the opportunity to meet up with their family after being chosen. During this time, Hange stayed in the mayor’s office, snacking on a few stale biscuits she had acquired a few days back from the baker near the Seam. Dhalis Zachary leaned back on his chair in contemplation while Erwin Smith stood in front of the large window overlooking the square, seemingly deep in thought. 

Erwin breaks the silence with words that were said calmly. “Hange, do you know the boy? Levi Ackerman?” 

Hange can never understand Erwin. His intentions were always objective whenever he visited the district, but his internal motivations would always remain unclear, even with Hange’s superior intellect. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. 

Nevertheless, she chose to answer the man honestly. “Yes,” Hange replied after swallowing the biscuit in her mouth. “Why?” 

The man doesn’t even bother to look at her as he speaks. “It might be in your best interests to use that in his favour.” 

“And lower Petra’s chances of winning? That hardly seems fair.” Hange winced at the coldness of her tone. 

She buried her fingernails deep into her palms for a second time that day, willing herself to maintain her composure. 

It was necessary for her to treat both tributes equally. Levi meant a lot to her, but she would never compromise the life of an innocent individual just so she could spare his. Personal feelings can be advantageous or even dangerous in the Hunger Games, after all. Petra deserved as much of a chance at life as Levi did. 

“It’s better than none of them going back alive,” Erwin told her. Hange looked up, and Erwin’s blue orbs were staring right back at her. “You’ll have to choose between the two of them.” 

Hange glared at him then, before slamming her hand on the table. Zachary flinched as she did so, but paid both of them no attention as he continued to stare at the ceiling. Erwin cocked a curious eyebrow at her, unfazed. 

“No,” Hange answered back at him angrily, fury laced in her tone. She stood up to her full height, stalking over to Erwin and meeting his cold stare with the heat of her own. “I won’t make that decision until it’s necessary, and you have no right to tell me what to do.” 

“You forget, you’re one of the factors that decide if the odds will be in their favor,” Erwin said, unbothered by her outburst. “You can’t keep doing this, Hange. You need to choose.” 

“Well, I don’t want to!” she shouted, stomping her foot on the ground. “These are lives we’re talking about, Erwin. They’re not pawns in a silly little game people like you delude themselves into thinking is ‘entertainment.’” Hange inhaled sharply, exhaling her next words, “They are people, Erwin. They have mouths to feed and lives to take care of.” 

The thought of Mikasa comes to mind; such a pure, innocent child who wanted nothing else but to keep their family together and her brother safe from harm. 

Hange’s fury proves to be insatiable at this point. She sneered at Erwin, daring him to counter her. “Then again,” she spat, her eyes gleaming with unbridled rage, “Your privileged ass would never be able to understand how precious lives can be.” 

Silence once again falls upon the room. Dhalis Zachary heaved a tired sigh, his eyes darting towards the victor and the man from the Capitol. He chose to say nothing. 

Hange and Erwin’s faces are inches apart, the former’s glare deathly and the latter’s gaze unfazed. 

“My privileged ass does see where you are coming from,” Erwin replied, his tone still annoyingly too calculated, “but this is also a game, Hange. You don’t play to lose. You play to win.” 

“I played to survive, Erwin.” 

“Exactly, and look where that’s gotten you.” 

Erwin said those words in his usual detached tone, void of all emotion and humanity. There was no malice, no spite with the way he spoke; but the words hit Hange so fast and so strong she had to double-check if Erwin had punched her straight in the gut. 

Her thoughts were quickly invaded by the image of a tall boy with blonde hair and a protruding nose. His body lay in the middle of the square, back stained red with blood, and marked with the deep gashes that opened his flesh. Beside him was a blonde woman whose arms were marred by the very same whip that destroyed the man’s skin. 

Hange stepped back as tears started to well in her eyes. 

Unfortunately for her, Erwin didn’t even have the humanity to look apologetic in the slightest.

Nevertheless, he says “I’m sorry” in a voice barely above a whisper. Hange accepted the half-hearted sympathy offered by the man anyway, nodding silently. 

“Thank you” is the first thing Levi says to her the moment Hange entered the room. She nodded briskly, acknowledging Erwin’s presence and moving to sit beside Petra. 

“How are you both feeling?” she asked, trying to make light conversation. Petra shook her head in response. Hange placed a hand atop Petra’s, trying her best to appear unintimidating. “It’s okay,” she told the young girl. “I won’t allow you to go down without a fight.” 

Petra’s eyes flew from Hange to Levi. Immediately, Hange could tell what the young girl was thinking. 

“I’m not playing favourites here,” Hange said stoically, barely sparing Levi a glance. “I’m giving both of you a chance to win. Now it’s either the two of you take it and listen, or reject it and lose all odds you have of getting a shot to live. Your choice.” 

Petra froze at Hange’s words, and for a moment, Hange wondered if she was a bit too harsh. However, Petra recovers quickly, her eyes set to a firm glare. “I want to have a shot at winning,” the auburn-haired girl said resolutely. “I want to go back home to my father.” 

Hange smiled. “That’s the spirit. And you?” she turned to Levi then, who looked  away at her pressing stare. “Will you allow yourself the opportunity to win?” 

Levi grunted in reply, his steely gaze focused on a random spot in the room. “I promised my family I would.” 

“This is Moblit!” Hange said excitedly as she dragged the arm of one of her trusted stylists in her right hand before yanking the elbow of her second trusted stylist in her left, beaming widely, “and this is Nifa! Say hi, both of you!” 

She looked at Levi and Petra expectantly as Moblit and Nifa waved kindly, considerate of the shy demeanor of the two tributes. 

Levi stared at her, then at the two stylists as he raised an inquisitive brow. “Hi,” he said shortly. 

Petra, on the other hand, waved politely. “Hello, it’s nice to meet both of you!” 

“Great!” Hange exclaimed, patting Moblit and Nifa roughly on the shoulder. “Now that all of you are acquainted, I’ll officially be telling you guys Moblit and Nifa’s very important role in the Hunger Games! It’s a role I can’t do, so I’ll be entrusting you guys to their very capable hands. They’re amazing, and—” 

“Spit it out,” Levi interrupted smoothly.

Moblit and Nifa looked at each other in confusion, then at the boy, then at Hange.

Hange, however, laughs it off. “Alright, alright. They’re your stylists for the Games! They’re the ones who’ll make sure you’re well-kempt and presentable.” 

“Ah, something you definitely needed,” Levi commented off-handedly. 

Hange smiled. “Yes, Nifa is very well-versed in what’s said to be ‘Capitol Glow-Ups.’ Although at that time, I didn’t like it.” 

“Why, Hange?” Petra asked curiously, tilting her head to the side. 

“Let’s just say I’m not that used to being the Capitol’s definition of clean." Hange laughed for a second time, loud and boisterous and so different from the demeanor of the rest of the people in the room. “I think they scrubbed so much dirt and dead skin from my body, I felt like a waxed figure afterward.” 

“Oh no,” Levi hissed, looking pointedly at Moblit. “ No one is scrubbing me. I’ll do it myself.” 

“But—” Moblit started, but Levi interrupted him. 

“No buts. I can scrub myself.”

Moblit turned his head to look at Hange for help, but she shrugged nonchalantly. “No worries Mob, Levi’s really good at cleaning.” 

Levi coughed then, words that suspiciously sounded like “unlike you,” murmured under his breath. 

Hange paid him no mind as she continued talking. “I’m sure he can work something out.” 

“Alright,” Moblit said in defeat, before looking at Levi. “But you better be clean or I may have to resort to ways that involve knocking you out!” 

“I’m not like that stupid four-eyes,” Levi responded calmly, and Petra hid a snicker. 

Hange smiled at the brief exchange. Moments of fun and cheer were rare in the Hunger Games, and deserved to be cherished. 

“I’ll leave you guys in Moblit and Nifa’s capable hands then.” Hange grinned at the tributes and the stylists, flashing all of them a brief thumbs up before glancing at Come on Erwin, let’s go grab lunch!” 

Erwin gave two brief nods in acknowledgement—one for the stylists and the tributes, and one for Hange before he followed her out of the door. The two stylists bow politely, Petra says goodbye nicely, Levi ignores him completely, 

“I’ll see you guys at training later,” Hange said, winking. “Tell me if you guys want to have it together or separately. Give it some thought while y’all clean yourselves! See you both!” 

Hange closed the door behind her softly, the smile disappearing on her face just as quickly as it had come. 

Petra requested to be trained separately, so Hange had her first private conversation with Levi since their last interaction in District 12. 

The scent of the capitol fits him well. Hange noticed the way his sleek dark hair seemed to look even softer with the kindness the gentle shampoo offered. His pale skin looked healthier than it had been back in the Seam, treated with only the finest of soaps the Capitol possessed. 

“You really do clean up well,” Hange told him jokingly. 

He scoffed in response, taking a seat on the chair in front of her and leaning his back against it, arms crossed above his chest. “Your stylist was also impressed. Apparently you came here looking so much like shit that the bar became so low it was pretty easy to reach.” 

“It’s ‘cause I have personality, Levi,” Hange retaliated, drawling out the syllables  of the boy’s name. 

“Being dirty is not a personality trait, Hange,” he retorted in response, glaring at her. 

His menacing look didn’t even faze her. 

She grinned. “Yeah well, it caught your attention, didn’t it?” 

He rolled his eyes. “So, what are we going to do today? You going to tell me how I can win this stupid games?”

Hange nodded enthusiastically, taking out a pen and a piece of paper. “First, we’ll talk about you.” 

Levi made a face that looked as if he wouldn’t enjoy such a personal conversation. 

Hange laughed automatically. “Levi, you don’t need to tell me the things that you’re uncomfortable with. I won’t pry too much, it’s just the way things work.” 

“I don’t mind if it’s you.” 

Levi had tossed it out so casually and so nonchalantly, his gaze fixed pointedly at her. Hange’s eyes widened slightly, but she ignored the way her heart swelled and her spirits lifted at his words. 

“Great,” she replied, trying to appear composed. “Let’s start! First question: What are you good at?” 

“You already know the answer to that, four-eyes,” he answered shortly, but Hange gave him a look to tell him that she wasn’t accepting that answer in the slightest. Levi sighed, continuing, “ Fine, I can use a knife. Probably a sword. I’m shit with bow and arrows though. I can gather. Know which berries will kill me.” 

His words are calculated, and Hange knew this well-enough. “Alright,” she commented, writing everything down on the paper. “Do you know how to look for water?” 

Levi nodded. 

“You’d do very well if the terrain they choose for the arena is the forest,” she told him as she tapped her pen against her chin in thought. “The only problem is if you’re shoved into the desert or the frozen tundra. But they probably wouldn’t do that considering it made for a boring game.” 

“Typical of the Capitol to find murder amusing,” Levi muttered.

Hange glared at him pointedly. After all, the room they were in right now—unlike the edges of the Seam and the forest—was probably tapped with numerous hidden mics. They couldn’t risk talking about hating the Capitol as vocally as this. 

“You need to keep your abilities hidden from the other tributes,” Hange said, filling the silence. “Don’t touch knives and daggers, specifically. Maybe learn how to use the bow and arrow you’re so bad at.” 

“Why?” Levi asked, lightly raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t the point to make them fear me?”

“Aren’t you confident?” Hange told him in jest, smirking. “But no, not necessarily. If they know what you’re capable of then they’d know what to expect. They’d take you down more easily.” 

Levi grunted in reply. “Huh. You’re good at this.” 

Hange shrugged. “I’ve been in the Games, after all.”

“You never talked about your experiences,” Levi said. 

“And you never asked, which I am grateful for.” Hange smiled at him gently, but Levi looked away. 

“But I know what happened,” he told her nonchalantly, staring at nothing in particular. “I was watching you.” 

Hange blinked at him. “You watched my game? This is the first time I’m hearing this.” 

As much as Hange tried to keep the excited tone out of her voice, she couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Levi hated watching the Games, this was something he had never failed to inform her in the one and a half year they had spent together. 

“Yeah,” Levi said simply. “Impressive. Not a single kill and yet you still won the Games.” He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, and Hange had to lean in in order to hear him. “You cheated the system, didn’t you?” 

“In a way. Don’t do that, by the way, unless you want to get in trouble.” Hange smiled bitterly as Levi nodded. She continued, "Also, you’re wrong. I had one kill.” 

Levi looked at her in confusion. “What? Didn’t the last guy die because he ate nightlock?” 

Hange ran a hand through her hair sheepishly, watching as Levi’s confused expression shifted to that of understanding. 

“Ah.” 

“Yup.” 

“You put the berries there?” Levi asked, and Hange nodded. “Cheap trick.”

Hange scoffed. “Whatever. Floch should’ve done more research.” 

It was the day of the games, and Hange was getting ready to send off her tributes to what could be the last time she'd ever see them.

“Are you ready?” Hange whispered to Petra, who nodded nervously. “Remember your breathing,” she whispered, taking the girl in her arms. “Do your best out there and whatever happens, know that I am proud of you.” 

Petra buried her face in Hange’s shoulder, returning the hug with equal vigor. “Hange,” she said softly, “If I don’t make it out alive . . . please tell my father I really did try. For him. He and mama mean a lot to me.” 

Hange closed her eyes, gripping the young girl tighter. This was always the hard part during the games. “I promise.” 

Petra sighed in relief. “Thank you, Hange.” she whispered, “for everything.” 

Hange nodded. “Good luck, Petra.” 

Soon enough, Petra stepped out of her embrace to smile gratefully. The girl bid Hange goodbye, her stride more confident compared to when she had first entered the room. 

Levi entered next. 

“Hey,” Hange greeted him calmly, trying to appear her usual self in front of him. Yet, her voice and her eyes betrayed her as she looked at him with visible worry. 

“Hey,” he said in reply. 

They sit there in silence for a few minutes. The quiet was comfortable and not anxiety-inducing, and Hange was thankful for the fact that nothing had truly changed between them and their dynamic. 

“Take care of them for me.” 

Hange wanted to chide him, tell him Don’t act like you’re going to die, but reality is hardly ever fair to those who deserve it most. 

“I will,” Hange said, nodding. “I will make sure they’re fed, clothed, and sheltered.” 

Levi heaved a sigh of relief, and she flashed him a small smile. 

He broke the silence once again. “Hange,” he murmured, and she felt her heart skip a beat at the sound of her name on his lips. 

“Yeah?” 

Levi doesn’t respond immediately, so she prodded him gently. Time was running out, after all. “What’s up?” 

“I . . . I appreciate you.” 

He said the words so slowly, as if testing them on his tongue. Tentatively, as if he was scared of her reaction.

If only he knew that he had nothing to be scared of, nor anything to be nervous about. 

All professionalism is thrown out of the window as Hange took him into her arms, holding him ever so tightly as she buried her fingers through the strands of his hair. Immediately, he does the same, wrapping his own arms around her waist and bringing her body closer to him. 

His forehead rested on her shoulder as she leaned her cheek against his dark hair, the scent of his soft shampoo filling her nostrils. “Levi,” she whispered, and he responded by humming into her shirt. “I appreciate you too.”

We should’ve ran away together when we had the chance. 

As Levi pressed a soft kiss against her neck, Hange shoved her selfish, unwanted thoughts into the back of her mind. 

Seeing the Cornucopia in the middle of a forest placed a lot of ease in Hange’s mind. 

Levi had a fighting chance. 

Immediately, she berated herself for focusing on the chances Levi had and not Petra. She had to be equal, treat them both fairly. 

However, as much as Hange hated to admit it, Erwin was right. It was getting harder and harder for her not to choose as personal feelings started to get in the way of her decision-making process. 

Hange sat down on the wide couch, plopping in between the stoic-faced Erwin and the concerned Moblit. He was already fussing as to whether or not Hange had gotten sleep. She nodded at the brunette in response, patting him on the shoulder and telling him not to worry. 

The game started off with a bloodbath that found over twenty-five of the forty-eight tributes killed. 

Hange was biting her lip and tapping her fingers against the seat of the couch as she watched Petra leave the Cornucopia after managing to acquire a single backpack. The cameras barely caught Levi’s figure as he dashed into the safety of the forest. 

“They’re good,” Erwin said absent-mindedly. 

Hange nodded in agreement. 

“Let’s hope they don’t end up having to fight each other.” 

Erwin is not a man of kind words. He is hardly comforting and his quips are not always welcome. Hange smiled, because this is the most Erwin can attempt to apologize and make her feel better. 

“Yeah, same here.” 

The next few days were gruelling for their team. 

It was incredibly hard for Hange to get sponsors when both Levi and Petra were mediocre in their actions in the Games. Levi kept mostly to himself. He hunted, spent his days high-up on trees, and forged whenever he could. Petra formed an unlikely alliance with a tall man named Oluo from District 10. 

With mediocre scores from the game-makers, the two also didn’t attract that much attention from the higher elites of the Capitol. 

“Either you need to think of a different strategy,” Erwin told Hange, “or the two of them are going to have to step up their performances.”

Hange groaned as she watched Levi skin a rabbit effortlessly in a single frame before the camera shifted to a boy named Marcel from District 2. He was well-liked by the higher-ups of the Capitol, and had received heaping amounts of food from them on the second day of the Games. 

Being a career built by the upper elites sure had its perks. 

“Levi would never lay hands on a person,” Hange said, shaking her head. “At least he knows he shouldn’t cheat the Games the way I did. Did you know that self-defense was the only way I could justify to him that killing was necessary? You’d probably find Petra kill a person before Levi could even consider it.” 

“Then she better kill someone soon, because the chances of you getting sponsors are not getting any higher,” Erwin replied. 

Hange slumped back on her seat, tossing her head in the air and letting out a frustrated sigh. 

“Hange, there’s some news you need to hear.” 

The victor stood from her seat beside Erwin, confusion written all over her face as she stared at Moblit, who had just entered the room. She and Erwin had been watching the television for a solid five hours then, 

“What’s up?” she asked, already fearing the worst. 

“We’ve received word that Levi’s mother is gone.” 

Hange stared at Moblit in disbelief. “Fuck. No. That can’t be.” 

Sweet Kuchel had always been kind to her. She was a lovely woman who had embraced Hange, welcomed her into their home for lunch and tea. Levi hadn’t even been there, then, but Kuchel readily offered a home for the young, grieving victor. She remembered the way Kuchel held her tall frame, as she wept for a man and a woman whose lives she could never bring back. 

“Fuck,” Hange repeated, her hands flying to her hair frantically. “ No.” 

Erwin brought her back to reality as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Now’s not the time to grieve, Hange,” he told her softly. 

She hated the way Erwin could be so serious and calculating. She hated his lack of empathy, the way he treated tributes like chess pieces that could be manipulated and removed from the chessboard whenever he felt like it. She hated the way he treated her like a child too emotional for her own good. 

Most of all, Hange hated the fact that Erwin was—most unfortunately—right. 

It was a week and a half into the games, and Oluo had just met his demise protecting Petra from a Career who had attempted to slice her neck in sleep.

“Why are Levi and Petra working together?” 

Erwin stared at the screen in what seemed like curiosity, which was the closest Hange had ever seen him express real emotions. Hange shrugged as she took a small grape to her mouth, popping the fruit in and allowing its juices to flood her taste buds. 

“See, that’s exciting,” she said nonchalantly. “Maybe the sponsors would want something to do with them from now on.” 

Petra’s bloodied form is shoved into a tree. Her eyes were directed up at the sky, unseeing.

The cameras focused on the gruesome scene for but a moment. In the next, Levi is blazing through a group of seven Careers who had banded together to form a pack. 

Levi sliced a sword from one career to the other, his eyes riddled with fury as he effectively avoided their attacks. It was as if a demon had been activated inside of him; his kills were clean amidst the trail of blood left in his wake. 

Hange watched in pained horror as she watched him kill one Career . . . two, three, until he reached the last. While the final Career’s fearful screams echoed in the television screen, Hange looked away. 

She knew just how much he would hate himself afterward, and it scared her to think that she wouldn’t be there with him. 

There were three people left, and Levi had just committed mass murder. 

Sponsors immediately flooded Hange after Levi’s unhinged attack, but the copious amounts of money could never appease the gnawing feeling of fear in her gut. She wanted to run up to the gamemakers and beg them to just stop it, end the games now before Levi has to go through more suffering. 

There was a brief shot of Levi trudging towards the river after, and Hange tried not to think of the way he had probably scrubbed himself raw as he tried to remove the blood coating his skin and the tips of his fingers. 

She had sent him warm broth that very same night. Hange listened as Levi said “Thank you,” to no one in particular, risking speaking in the dead of the night. She accepted his grateful answer, pretending it was directed at her. 

“He could win,” Erwin had said to her then, his arms crossed over his chest. “I believe he can.” 

Hange bit her lip, casting her eyes down towards the floor. Levi would come home to a world without his mother, bearing the guilt of having murdered people in order to survive. And then he would be thrown into a world where he would be sentenced to sending people off to their death, giving them tips that could end up being useless in the face of the hell that was the arena. 

In which case, perhaps dying wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

But Hange didn’t want him to die. Hange wanted him to get out of the Hunger Games and live his life in peace with the rest of his family. She wanted him to rest in his house, helping out in household chores every so often and lending helping hands around the Seam the way he always did. 

Most of all, Hange wanted him to hold her in his arms again, the way he always wo—

She shook her head immediately, grunting angrily in order to keep such thoughts away from her mind. 

The other two tributes, Marcel and Colt, formed an alliance against Levi. 

Levi had been in hiding for the past two days, and the audience was getting bored. They wanted to see more of him in action after the bloodbath he had ensued. 

Hange paid them no mind as she kept on sending him food, making sure he was well-fed. At one point, she had even slipped him tea, which she could see he was completely grateful for. It was a bitch on the budget, but it wasn’t like Hange had anyone else to spend the money on anyway. 

The gamemakers were getting more agitated, so they had started pushing the three tributes together by setting fire to about three-fourths of the forest. 

“Was it too much to wish that Marcel and Colt would die because of the Tracker Jacker attacks?” Hange asked Erwin, as she brought her knees closer to her body. “Because that’s what I wished for.” 

“We’d be too lucky,” Erwin said, shaking his head. “And there’s no such thing as luck in the Hunger Games.” 

Hange wanted to argue that “odds” was basically the same thing as “luck,” but she chose not to fight Erwin on such a petty discussion. 

A day later, Levi found the two Careers writhing in pain, their bodies almost double the size because of the venom from the Tracker Jackers. 

Hange thought that the impressionable elite audience was probably antsy at that very moment, wanting to see Levi ruthlessly murder two Careers who were dead-set on killing him. Hange scoffed, annoyed at the thought of the people at the Capitol getting excited at the thought of needless fighting. 

“Levi’s going to win,” Erwin said predictably. 

Hange willed herself to agree. 

They watched as Marcel and Colt started pleading the moment they saw Levi. At that point in time, Hange didn’t know if it was either for mercy or a call for Levi to just end the two boys’ suffering. 

Hange observed Levi as he looked down at Marcel and Colt, knife in hand. Marcel said something inaudible, and Colt nodded. 

Levi’s eyes narrowed in what seemed to be understanding, before he slit their throats and killed them then and there. 

The 67th Hunger Games has officially ended. 

Alone, Levi stood; victorious. 

Hange was sitting in the middle of a room filled to the brim with extravagant decor, looking extremely out of place in her cargo pants and ripped dark shirt. Soon, she would be seeing Levi again after the "shitfest," (as Levi had so lovingly called it) that was the Hunger Games.

She stared at the array of food lining the table when Moblit entered the room. His hair was disarray and his brow was furrowed in concern. 

“They got shot,” he told her grimly, slamming his fist against the wall. 

Hange’s eyes widened in surprise at Moblit’s words, and she staggered as she stood up. She has an inkling as to what the stylist was talking about, but Hange dared herself to ask because she doesn’t want to accept it. “What?” 

“Them.” Moblit grit his teeth and looked away, closing his eyes as he willed himself to calm down. “Isabel. Farlan. Their bodies were found at the edges of the Seam this morning.” Moblit exhaled sharply They were apparently caught trying to go through the fence.” 

Hange launched herself at him, grabbing Moblit’s collar and dragging his face closer to hers. “Stop lying!” she shouted, but Moblit doesn’t say anything. He kept his silence as he watched rage slowly begin to build in the mentor’s body, her hands shaking from where she gripped him.  

“I m-made sure that Levi would get out safely,” Hange said exasperatedly, tears already streaming down her cheeks. “I wanted them to be safe. I didn’t want them to end up like Miche. How did this happen?” 

“Levi’s a killing machine, Hange. Or at least, that’s what the Capitol wants the public to believe. He’s the strongest tribute who’s ever been in the games.” 

“T-They wanted to keep him in check?” Hange shouted, shaking Moblit’s collar. The man placed his hands on her shoulders firmly, trying to keep her calm. “By killing his family? How the fuck is that fair?”

“Lower your voice,” Moblit warned, taking her into his arms in a strategic hug. The knowledge that the rooms could be tapped was something they always needed to consider. “You don’t want to incite anything worse.” 

“He’s not a career,” she whispered in understanding. “They can’t control him the way that they can the others.” 

Hange sniffed, burying her face into Moblit’s shoulder. She wanted to go on a rampage and avenge the lives of the two teenagers who strived in order to keep their family whole. She wanted to bring back Kuchel from the dead so that she could welcome Levi with open arms, bidding him congratulations and crying tears of joy. 

“Wait,” Hange whispered, not taking her face away from Moblit’s neck. “Isn’t Fritz scared of Levi actually going berserk when he finds out that his entire family is dead?” 

“No,” Moblit replied easily, holding her tighter. To any hidden cameras, the two would’ve looked like they were simply comforting each other after hearing the sad news. “They spared one.” 

Oh shit. Realization hit Hange swiftly. “ Mikasa.” 

Moblit nodded grimly. 

Hange groaned, murmuring her next set of words. “That’s how they keep him in check. They kill his family first to prove that they’re not messing around. And then they keep him on a leash through Mikasa. Levi doesn’t seem like the type to cooperate with them, especially.” 

“Exactly.” 

Hange clutched Moblit, holding him closer to her. He ran a hand on her back soothingly. “How am I going to tell h-him, Moblit?” she whispered, sobs racking her lean frame. “I wanted to keep him safe from harm, but I failed to protect his family.” Her hands turned into fists as she wept. “Isabel and Farlan… they were so selfless and kind, Moblit. They don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve to end up like Miche and Nana. And Levi, oh god, Levi—Moblit, I didn’t tell him . . . I should have told him.” 

Moblit ran a hand through her brown hair, trying to calm her shaking body. “You didn’t know,” he said softly, and Hange buried her face deeper into his shoulder. 

“If I had told him that Miche’s death was because of my glorious fuck-up, maybe he would’ve been more careful,” she whispered. “Maybe he would’ve taken more care in his kills. Maybe he could’ve been the slave the capitol wanted as early as now.” 

“Is that what he would’ve wanted?” 

Hange’s thoughts fly to Levi, kind-hearted Levi who took a beating in the square for a child who had stolen a loaf of bread. Levi, who had attempted to protect his younger cousins from being exposed to the horrors of the Hunger Games by never allowing them to put their name in the reaping bowl. Levi, who kept his mother close so that peacekeepers would never touch her body again. 

Levi, whose soft fingers caressed the tears away from her face when she had almost laid to waste in the middle of the woods, fingers numb from holding on to a bloody jacket never to be worn by Miche again. 

Hange understood why she had not attempted to stop Levi. It's because she knew . . . knew him too well to even dare restrict his freedom.

Levi would never allow the Capitol to make him a slave, but he’d most certainly pay the price for it.

snapshots from the tributes - levi ackerman (18)

Chapter Text

The last few moments are a blur.

He didn’t know the exact moment he lost his senses. Maybe it was around the time he realized that Petra would, in fact, not return to District 12 with him. Around the time when he noticed that his fingertips were caked with blood that did not belong to a wild animal he had found in the woods. Around the time when he almost tripped over the pile of dead bodies surrounding him. 

The ringing in his ears was getting louder by the second. 

I’m not safe, he thought. 

He tries to trudge through the slew of corpses around him, fights with all his might to leave, leave, leave, before the Capitol sends in their aircrafts to lift up the bodies to the sky and declare them dead once more as if the cannons weren’t enough. 

Levi has killed animals. Deer, quail, rabbits—sold in the Hob, eaten at their dining table. All his kills were means of survival, a way to make sure his family stays alive.

But how do you justify killing human beings? 

He can tell he’s moving, but he can’t feel his feet hit the ground. Levi could barely even see through the foliage, as the plants and leaves and trees in his vision began merging themselves together to create a sea of green. The feeling in his fingers have all but disappeared, so he grips the handle of the knife as tight as he could in a pathetic attempt to keep himself from slipping away until he can feel safe—as safe as anyone could be during the Hunger Games, at least. 

Levi knows the cameras are on him right now, trying to catch a glimpse of any emotion on his face. 

He avoids thoughts about his family. Not now, not while he’s vulnerable. Tries not to think about Isabel’s cooking, Farlan’s quips, Mikasa’s gentle laughter . . . and his mother, frail but beautiful and ever-so-kind, with gentle fingers that ran through his hair on the most stressful of nights. 

Tries not to think about how they would feel now that he’s a killer.

In a pathetic attempt to ground himself, he focused his mind on a familiar face: Hange, smiling her stupid, beautiful smile, ready to push the buttons she knew would annoy him.  Levi willed himself to remember what Hange said about the arena, but her voice sounds far away, as if it was about to be buried into the recesses of his mind.

He doesn’t even feel himself fall.

But he knows his feet are lathered with ankle-deep mud and his arm had narrowly missed the jagged stone lining the steady flow of water he crashed into. He assumed he's beside the river. With what little consciousness he has, Levi covers his body with leaves, wipes his face with a layer of mud and grass, and allows himself to fall into what he hopes is a dreamless sleep. 

He woke up to a force bouncing off of his chest. 

Levi sprung into action immediately, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Upon seeing the disappearing silhouette of a small rabbit, he sighed in relief. 

It was night now. The darkness was almost intimidating. There was a very faint hint of moonlight, so Levi looked up, trying to determine if the moon was real among the fabricated clouds the Capitol had created. Now that he’s more awake, he realized that the ringing in his ears had stopped. The night is deathly silent. For a moment, Levi wondered if he had missed the nightly announcement of the fallen tributes. 

Doesn’t matter, he thought bitterly, because he remembered every single one of their faces, along with the guilt that came with it.

As he sat back down, allowing the waters of the river to reach his chest, Levi inspected his fingers. The blood had all been washed out, so he focused on washing his face and hair, running his fingers through his roots to remove the mud and the tiny bits of leaves that had made its way into his scalp. 

He was wiping his eyes when the sound of beeping caught his attention. 

It’s his very first parachute. 

The object lands almost perfectly in his open hands. The parachute carried a metal bowl, slightly warm against his wet skin. Inside it was a small note.

My specialty -H 

Levi opened the bowl. Instantly, he’s met with the savory smell of meat broth. He took a moment to calm his senses with the gentle aroma. The stew is filled with carrots, potatoes, and beef slow-cooked to perfection. How Hange managed to convince the Capitol to send in her own cooking, Levi didn’t know, but he’s thankful all the same. 

Hange’s not much of a cook, but she swore by the goodness of her stew. Levi’s inclined to agree, considering that his heart rate was slowing down to a significantly calmer state than it was when he first woke up.  Levi inhaled once more, allowing the warm smell to bring him back to days spent by the lake in their forest, far away from the arena and the games and all the problems the Capitol created. 

But right now he’s stuck in the arena, and Hange’s stew is here too. It’s a reminder that she is out there, watching over him like always. 

He exhaled. Slowly, Levi brought the bowl to his lips. The nostalgic taste immediately brings his cold body warmth. 

As Hange’s kind eyes and bright smile entered his thoughts, Levi said “Thank you” to the night sky. 

Before the sun could rise, Levi found himself a cave to stay in for the night.

His outfit dried slowly in the cold night air, leaving unwanted goosebumps on his skin. The cave offered only a little reprieve, but it was near the river and it seemed easy enough to hunt for food. 

He was now using the bowl that had previously contained Hange’s stew as a container of water. He took a few slow sips before sitting down, trying to think about what to do next. 

Levi had been trying to ignore the guilt that had been weighing down on his chest since the day before. If his calculations were correct, there were only two tributes left. He didn’t have the slightest idea where they were, and every part of him did not want to hunt them down to kill them. 

They won’t hesitate to kill you, his conscience rationalized. That’s why you killed everyone else.

In the silence of the cave, it became easier for Levi to blame himself for the deaths of the other tributes. Would what he had done count as self-defense? Did he want to go home so much that he was willing to end the lives of seven men?

Isabel and Farlan would understand. They were the ones who told him to try his hardest to return. His mother would as well, but he knew that it hurt her to see him become the monster the Capitol wanted him to be. Is it worth it to come home alive and well, albeit a shell of his former self? Or would it be better to die now to repent for the sins that he had accidentally committed?

He wished he could answer his own questions. He wished that Hange could answer his questions and stroke his hair, the way she always wo—

Levi shook his head, burying his nails into his palms in order to keep such thoughts away from his mind. 

He sat there in silence, watching the clouds drift by. The fabricated sunrise slowly lit up the arena, the gentle rays spilling into the darkness of the cave. 

He made his decision.

If killing people meant his family would survive, then he would continue to play the part of being the capitol’s pawn.

Hange spent the past two days spoiling him with food. She was sending him as much carbohydrates as she could, making sure that he had energy to expend in the Games. 

Levi wondered how much a piece of bread cost her. He tried not to think about it as sliced the loaf with his knife and made a sandwich with the rabbit meat he’d collected. His clothes were now dry, but the cave was still damp and the humidity was still making him feel very uncomfortable. Hange had probably noticed, because her next delivery of bread included a teabag wedged in between the loaf. 

For luck -H 

He scoffed while reading her note, but he made a fire and heated up water all the same. Whatever Hange was doing to gather sponsors, it was definitely working. 

Despite all his luxuries, Levi knew he couldn’t stay in that cave forever. 

On the third day, he’s proven correct when he woke up to water flooding his cave and slamming him into the cavern walls. 

He sputtered, spit out the water that entered his mouth and swam outside of the cave, trying to find the surface. The morning light was sparse, but he made do as he waded through the water. Levi grunted as he emerged for air. From the distance, he saw a faint shade of green. Immediately, he pushed himself toward the riverbanks.

Levi coughed, expelling the water that had entered his lungs as he slowly crawled on land. He knew that he had overstayed his welcome in the cave, but damn those Gamemakers—isn’t there a nicer way to send a message? 

Once he’s sure he’s heaved all the water he can, Levi stood up. Fortunately for him, he had tucked his knife safely in his boots, so he wasn’t going to enter a fight without a weapon. 

Slowly, he began to take in his surroundings. Most of the forest seemed charred and burned, and Levi surmised this was the Gamemakers’ way of bringing the tributes closer together. As if to prove him right, Levi hears a weak cry. 

“Twelve?” 

He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, hand swiftly gripping his knife in an act of self-defense. 

A short distance from him were the boys from Districts 2 and 7. They were lying on the ground, their bodies almost double their size. Their skin was red and throbbing, even from a distance. For a moment, Levi stood there staring, unsure of how to approach them. His initial instinct told him to help, but what could he even do at this point?

“Twelve,” District 2 called out again, coughing. “Please. Are you real?”

District 7 is also begging. “If you are. . .come, please.”

Levi walked towards them warily. He stooped to their level, resting one knee on the ground. “I’m real,” he told them, as if that was a form of comfort. What do you need?” he asked in a low voice. 

District 2 turned to 7. “He can k-kill us,” he said resolutely, his voice barely above a whisper at this point. “Like we wanted.” 

7 nodded. “Please, 12. If you’re real. Spare us. Make it quick.”

This was definitely no way to live. And they certainly are in no condition to fight. If Levi killed them, he would no longer prolong their suffering. 

He could win. No, he would win. 

Levi narrowed his eyes and slit their throats then and there. He did it as quick as he could, aiming to end their torture once and for all.

The voice of Peaure booms in the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the 64th annual Hunger Games, Levi Ackerman!” 

Levi woke up to fingers gently caressing his forehead. 

He kept his eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. He could feel his body wrapped by thin linen, the sheets grazing his skin in a manner that was both comforting and suffocating. The cloth provided a cold that was a stark contrast to the warmth blooming from where the fingers made contact with his forehead. 

As a shiver ran down his back, he slowly came to, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as the man brought himself out of sleep.  The touch is soft and tender despite the ragged calluses lining their fingertips. 

When the scent of alcohol and other chemicals filled his nostrils, the man’s eyes snapped open, and he was greeted by the blinding white light and the similarly painted walls. 

He pushed himself up quickly, and the warmth of the fingers that brushed his skin immediately transferred from his forehead to his palms. He looked around the room frantically, taken aback by the machinery that lined the edges of his bed. His ears were pounding with the sound of his heartbeat, and a beeping noise that matched the ba-dump, ba-dump, that throbbed against his temples.

“Levi,” a soft voice whispered. He blinks twice, trying to get accustomed to the room’s intense light. 

Where . . .?

The last thing he remembered was going up the ladder to ride the hovercraft, a familiar voice calling out to him . . .

Slowly, he looked at his hand, enveloped by two that were not his own. 

“Hange,” he mouthed as his gaze shifted from the hands to their owner. Hange—amazing, comforting, wonderful Hange—looked at him with a small smile on her face, gripping his hand tighter. 

“Welcome home, Levi,” she told him as her thumb brushed against the skin of his palms. “I missed you.” 

No matter how hard he willed it, the words would not make their way to his mouth, the sound dying before it could even reach his throat. She waited patiently as his lips quivered, and Levi tried as hard as he could to say something, anything. 

Hange stroked his palms gently, the way she knows he likes it. He stared at her as he tried to find the words, noting a few little things that changed while he was gone. Her hair was longer now; the brown strands were past her shoulder and the bangs that framed her forehead reached the edges of her eyes. Her lips were chapped from the cold, and he fought the urge to run his fingers over them.

She was as handsome as the day he left. 

Finally, he was able to break his silence. “I’m home.” 

Hange’s smile grew warmer, and she placed his bandaged palm on her cheek. He could feel the warmth of her body emanating from his touch. “Welcome home, Levi,” she responded. Unable to fight the urge, he stroked her cheek, reveling in the fact that she was here… he was alive. 

“Hange,” he whispered, and she hummed in response. He felt the vibration echo against her cheeks. Levi felt a warmth bloom in his chest when she spoke. He had been out in the forest for so long, but it was only here, being with Hange (hearing her voice, feeling her warmth, touching her) that he felt most alive. The sight of her was a breath of fresh air from the smell of blood from the Games, and the nose-wrenching smell of alcohol in the ward that they were in.

“Hange.” He repeated her name like a mantra, unsure what to do with the syllables that escaped his mouth. “Hange.” 

Hange was patient, which was very unlike her. “Yes, Levi?” she asked softly. 

“I . . .” What was he even supposed to say? The thoughts I’m a murderer, a killer crossed his mind, Is there still a place for me? Do you still see me the same? Am I—

“I missed you,” he said in a voice barely higher than a whisper. He could feel his lips quiver ever-so-slightly, and he knew Hange noticed because the smile on her face softened. There was no pity in her brown eyes, just understanding and familiarity. 

After all, both of them are murderers.

Gently, Hange moved his palm to the edges of her lips, “Levi,” she whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his knuckles, “I missed you too. I’m glad you’re back.” 

They stayed there in silence, eyes not meeting. The beeping sound of the monitor tracking Levi’s heartbeat slowly grew faster, and Hange chuckled. Levi could feel his cheeks slowly getting red in response. 

Hange let him recover from the unusual show of emotion. She placed his hand back on the bed, but kept their fingers interlaced. For a few minutes, she would absent-mindedly run her fingers through his calloused hands, gently massaging his fingertips and the edges of his palms. Levi leaned back on the bed, finally feeling the odd variety of wires sticking through his skin as he closed his eyes; needles along his legs, his arms, and even his neck. In the midst of all the uncomfortable tubes, he found himself questioning whether this was the Capitol’s way of fixing him. If that were the case, then who was he to decline?

“Where is my family?” Levi asked absent-mindedly. 

There was a brief silence, and Levi opened one eye to see Hange staring at his hand, as if entranced by it. He furrowed his eyebrows, debating on whether or not to repeat his question. 

Before he could, however, Hange interrupted him. “Mikasa’s just outside. Do you want me to call her?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

Hange refused to meet his gaze even when she stood up. She unclasped her hands from his, and the warmth of her fingers immediately left his own. Levi made a sound of protest under his breath, but Hange had already turned around to call his sister. 

Out of curiosity, he asked, “Is my mother with Mikasa?”

Hange stopped in her tracks. Without even looking at him, she replied, “No, she’s not.” 

Levi assumed that Kuchel was resting. She must be exhausted from watching him fight in the games. She would need to rest in order to recover from seeing her son nearly die, but at least he was back now. He would be able to take care of her properly. 

In the beat of silence that followed, Levi was reminded of the price that came with winning the games. He and his family would be able to live away from the Seam. Instead, they can stay in Victor’s Village in a house far more beautiful than their dingy little run-down house. They’d be neighbors with Hange, as annoying as that would be. He imagined her entering their house with that bright smile of hers. His family would greet her just as enthusiastically. He could almost see them now: Mikasa hugging Hange’s leg, beaming up at her . . . Isabel and Farlan grinning and waving . . .

They could finally live a life where they would never have to worry about starving, especially with the amount of food and money the Capitol can provide them every year. 

Mikasa would no longer need to moonlight in the mines. Her dark hair would no longer be dusted with soot and ash and whatever explosives those mines had to offer. He and Farlan can finally stop poaching illegally. Gone were the days of listening to the hum of the electrical fence, questioning whether or not they would be able to have food that day. Isabel can finally have nicer dresses, a nice change from the tattered blue dress and that t-shirt and pants that she alternated every day. Levi remembers how she vehemently protests against him buying her a new set of clothes, remembers how her stubborn self would light a candle in the dead of the night, mending the small tears that had accumulated in god-knows-how-long since she had first gotten her dress. 

They would all live a better life. 

Levi exhaled. For the first time since the games, Levi felt as if he was finally able to breathe. 

He could finally spend more time for himself instead of tending to the household and worrying about how to make a tiny amount of food fit their family of five. In the back of his mind, he thinks about holding Hange’s hand in the dead of the night without fear or guilt. He could spend more time with Hange away from the woods. Buy her food, hopefully more than the amount of food she acquired for his family. 

Finally pay her back for the kindness she had shown him and his family when he was unable to be with them. 

He was interrupted in his reverie when he realized that Hange had not moved from her position. 

“Hange,” he called, but she barely flinched. Levi raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to get Mikasa?”

Slowly, Hange turned around, an unreadable expression on her face. “Levi.” She whispered his name in such a sad tone he felt his heart drop. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Why?”

She walked back towards him, taking a seat on the chair beside him. He noted that the ugly wooden chair looked uncomfortable, especially since it creaked the moment she had put her weight on it; had she been sitting there all this time? 

His gaze shifted to Hange’s eyes. Behind her glasses, brown irises were glazed over with a layer of tears she wasn’t willing to shed. 

“Oi,” he said in surprise, fingers automatically flying to her cheeks. His thumb swept the first drop that escaped her eyes. “What happened, four-eyes?” He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck slowly begin to rise as fear crept into his being.

Hange grit her teeth, clenched her knuckles, and bowed her head. 

“Levi,” she repeated in that same sad, painful tone. “I’m so sorry.” 

The images of his family living their best life in Victor’s Village flashed in his head, and his heartbeat started to race. They were finally going to have proper food, finally going to have a moment of peace amidst the chaos that was District 12, finally—

 “Hange,” he said, his voice calculated, “where are Isabel and Farlan? Why aren’t they here?”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, Hange closed her eyes, allowing the tears to finally flow free. 

Fear struck Levi’s heart as he removed his hand from her cheek and held her hands that were formed into fists. “Hange,” he repeated in a voice that strongly resembled begging, “Where are they? Where is my mother?” His voice rose with every sentence, and his grip on Hange’s wrists tightened.

A barrage of images flooded Levi’s mind. Isabel hanging clothes. Farlan hunting. 

His mother, his sweet mother; she was smiling as she hugged him. 

He could feel his chest starting to hurt. 

The machines were erratic in their beep beep beep, reflecting the throb in Levi’s head and the beat drumming against his ribs. Hange extends her arms and holds him close to her, his chest in the crook of her neck. 

“They’re gone, Levi,” she said, burying her fingers in his hair. “Kuchel succumbed to her illness.” 

She paused, allowing him time to internalize what she had just said. Levi heard her grit her teeth the way she did when she was dreading something. He inhaled sharply, gripping her arms for support. Hange flexed her arms and allowed him to cling to her. 

He didn’t make it. All his thoughts of coming home to her open arms, to her warm smile and sweet embrace—they were all for nothing. Levi didn’t even get to say goodbye when he left for the Games . . . and he would never be able to. 

Levi felt Hange clench her jaw tighter. “I’m so sorry. Farlan and Isabel were . . .” Hange choked, pressing her body against him tighter as if the pressure could relieve the throbbing pain in his heart, “they were shot.” 

Hange’s voice is quivering. Her tears were spilling on his cheeks, hot against his skin. “It was this m-m-morning,” she continued. “They were caught t-trying to get through the fence. Allegedly.”

The lights in the room are blinding amidst the tears starting to form in his eyes. The ringing in his ears had returned. Levi saw nothing and felt everything, from the vibrations of the Capitol’s equipment to Hange’s heaving, spurred by the sobs that wracked her lean frame. His fingers shook as he gripped Hange back, unable to find the words.

Levi knew that he was angry—livid, raging—if he killed for self-defense then, he was definitely going to murder President Fritz and all his fucking peacekeepers now—

“You can’t,” Hange interrupted his train of thought, pulling them apart so fast that his vision left his eyes. She held him by the shoulders, brown eyes piercing into his own. “You can’t do anything about it. Promise me,” she hissed. 

He stared at her in disbelief. “Hange—”

She interrupted him. “Promise me,” she said, shaking him. “Because if you do, they will take Mikasa,” she paused, inhaling, “Just like how they killed Miche and Nanaba.”

At the mention of his sister, Levi felt a wave of cold air wash over his body. He didn’t even realize how warm he had gotten just from his anger. Hange pulled him towards her and held him once more, gently stroking the back of his head in an attempt to appease him. 

Unfortunately for her, nothing she could do could quell the pain that bloomed from his chest, sprouting its dangerous leaves into his stomach, forming pins and needles that shot themselves against his guts. 

“I tried my best,” she whispered against his skin. “I helped you play the Games right. You were perfect. But they’re scared of you.” Hange sighed, sobbing, “And I didn’t anticipate that. I am so so sorry, Levi.”

He didn’t blame her. How could he, when all she’s been doing was in his best interests? It’s not her fault they were trapped in a system that deluded itself into thinking him being a murderer was entertainment. His dreams of Victor’s Village suddenly seem so far away. How could everything go so wrong? How did the Capitol expect him to function now that most of his family were gone? 

No, not everyone. Levi buried his nails into Hange’s back.  If she noticed, Hange didn’t point it out. She was warm, and very much alive. After having stayed in the Capitol the past couple of days, Hange smelled like citrus, but underneath all that was the scent of wood and the vaguest whiffs of coal—most importantly, Hange smelled like home. 

Hange’s breathing significantly calmed down, but the anger in Levi’s bones has barely dissipated. 

Not everyone’s gone. He is reminded of his sister, so young and yet so wise beyond her years. Spared from death, just like him. And now that he’s won the Games, he can do everything in his power to protect her. Mikasa would never touch a single block of coal again, never have to inhale the first and smog from the mines, never again. 

Levi would do anything to keep her safe.