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Dust hung in the air like a thick, golden veil, mingling with the smell of sweat, tar, and resin. The sun, sinking toward the horizon, beat down on the backs of dozens of figures bent over the future railway line.
Captain Levi stood on a small hillock, his dark hair dusted with the same powder that covered everything. Disgusting. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a dirty streak on his skin. This ubiquitous substance was everywhere: clogging his pores, making it hard to breathe, hiding in the most concealed folds of his clothing. He hated it with every fiber of his being.
Arms crossed over his chest, the man watched as his people, bent double, did their work. The cold, assessing gaze of his grey eyes slid over the figures of soldiers digging their shovels into the island's stubborn earth. He had spent the entire day here himself, and the fabric sticking to his sweaty body was a near-physical irritation, but now, at the end of the day, his task was not to dig, but to ensure this hellish conveyor belt kept working properly.
The gaze of his grey eyes, already dulled by the monotony, suddenly stopped on a group of soldiers fussing over another problem. His squad.
Biting her lip with strained effort, Petra was putting all her weight on a crowbar, while Gunther and Oluo, moving their shoulders in sync, tried to shift a massive rail that had stubbornly veered off course. Short, hoarse cries, more like curses, tore from her chest with each strained breath, yet her face glowed with focused determination.
Levi looked away, his fingers tapping involuntarily on his elbow. Another half hour. Maximum. Then they could return to camp, wash up, and finally be rid of this ever-present grit grinding between his teeth. The thought of a cup of hot tea was becoming increasingly obsessive. Another moment, and he would have sunk completely into that saving image, when suddenly, very close by, a voice sounded.
— Captain?
He turned. Before him, her cheeks flushed from the heat, stood Petra. She snapped to attention, but it seemed more a formality.
— The section is complete, Captain. Can we send the others to dinner?
Levi looked at the leveled stretch of track. The work was done solidly, without any tilts.
— Let them go.And tell them to wash up properly before eating.
— Erd and the guys have already cleared their area.
— I know,he reported half an hour ago, — the man grumbled. His gaze slid over her dusty hands, lingering on her palms—fresh blisters had likely already formed under her gloves, — You too. Go get yourself in order. Covered in this dust.
In his tone, through the usual dryness, something slipped through that made Petra smile a little wider. She ignored his last words, as she often ignored his grumbling, which hid concern.
The redhead had already taken a step to leave but hesitated. She glanced back at the nearly empty field, where only they and a few soldiers gathering tools remained.
— Captain... — she lowered her voice so they wouldn't be overheard, — We... we have a day off tomorrow. The first in three weeks. I thought — she paused, choosing her words, — The sea is so close. Less than an hour's ride from here.
Levi was silent, and Petra hurried to add:
— The air is clean there.And none of this dust, — she said, — I gathered some things. Tea, the one you like... A blanket... I just thought we could... spend time away from the camp. If you don't mind.
Now it was all clear to him.
She was suggesting they escape. Not for long. Just for one night. This wasn't a request from a subordinate or a soldier's daring plan. It was an invitation, quiet and personal, extended across the chasm of rank and protocol. She was calling him not as a captain, but as a man who was also tired of the clang of iron, the constant taste of dust on his lips, and the weight of gazes waiting for orders. Petra was offering an island outside of time, where one could simply exist, not perform a duty. Where one could breathe deeply without feeling the weight of all human civilization on their shoulders.
The man was silent, and this silence lasted just long enough for Petra to feel a chill of doubt run down her spine. She was already ready to retreat, to mumble an embarrassed "never mind" and flee, when he finally spoke.
— Forty minutes. At the hitching post. And bring your cloak.
— Yes, — Ral nodded, a smile on her face. She already pictured the salty wind tangling her hair, the sky above an endless velvet canvas studded with stars.
Petra hurried away, her step light and springy, nothing like it had been half an hour ago. The evening had suddenly ceased to be just the end of an exhausting day.
The Captain merely grunted in response, turning toward the camp. Soldiers rushing to dinner parted before him, hastily saluting. Levi didn't grant them a glance; his thoughts were already far from the construction site.
The air here was different, thick, saturated with the smell of food, campfire smoke, and that same dust, now seasoned with human fatigue.
Ackerman removed a glove and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Stupidity. Pure stupidity—to ride to the sea after a day like this. But the thought of tea brewed in the clean wind, the sound of waves instead of the clang of iron, was now lodged in his mind, persistent and nagging.
His only goal now was his tent, a tin bucket of water, and a bar of coarse soap.
The man reached the tent, shoved the flap aside, and finally plunged into the blessed silence. He was washing away not just the construction dust, but the entire day—the shouts, the bustle, the responsibility. Putting on clean trousers and a shirt, he felt not only physical but mental relief. He had already turned to leave when his gaze fell on the dark cloak. His hand reached for the rough fabric on its own.
The coarse fabric of the cloak under his fingers suddenly felt damp with sea spray, and a distant, almost forgotten cry of seagulls echoed in his ears.
It was as if he was transported back to that day.
The day they first saw the sea.
The island had been declared cleared. The last titan had fallen. And they were riding along another wall, along a still uninhabited, wild coast.
They had climbed a high hill, and then it opened up before them. Endless. Blue. Glittering under the midday sun. A space stretching into infinity, where water merged with the sky in a dazzling, shining line.
Levi remembered how the wind, no longer meeting obstacles, fiercely whipped the horses' manes and made their cloaks flap, remembered the deafening cry of the gulls. He remembered Armin's ecstatic, excitement-filled shout, breaking with emotion, and how he, breathless, quoted lines from his damned books.
And then his gaze slid over the faces of the soldiers from his squad. He saw frozen, childlike amazement on Oluo's usually sullen face, saw Gunther whispering something soundlessly, gripping the reins, saw Erd brush away a scarce male tear before anyone could notice.
And then he saw Petra. Her eyes were wide open, moist with overwhelming emotion, her lips slightly parted in a silent, rapturous sigh. In that moment, she was not a soldier of the elite squad who had been through hell, but a child seeing a miracle. Fragile and defenseless before this overwhelming, majestic beauty.
Then, something inside him tightened into a tight, painful knot. Not from fear. From the realization of the incredible price they had paid for the right to see this. Every name, every face, burned into his memory, stood in a living line behind him.
They stood here, breathing this salty air, for everyone who had not lived to see this moment.
The memory dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind a strange heaviness in his chest. He blinked, and his gaze focused on the present. On the dark cloak in his hand. He threw it over his shoulders, almost roughly, and left the tent.
Levi moved forward hastily and almost collided with two figures carrying a large, steaming pot of soup between them. Jean, holding one handle of the pot, instinctively straightened up, nearly spilling the hot concoction. Connie, holding the other, gasped and crouched in fright to avoid dropping his load.
— Damn it! — Springer swore, almost sloshing the contents, — Watch where you're...C-Captain?!
— Sorry, Captain! We didn't see you!
Ackerman took a step back, his face showing nothing but mild irritation at the delay.
—Watch your step. And don't carry that in the middle of the path, — his voice was even, without raising his tone, but no less sharp for it.
— Yes, sir! — they answered almost in unison.
Jean, trying to show initiative, added.
—Captain, aren't you coming to dinner? Fresh fish soup today.
— I have business, — Levi cut him off, already moving to bypass them.
— Are you heading somewhere? — Kirstein asked out of politeness, to hide the awkwardness, — Do you need help?
— Your only task is to eat that and clean up after yourselves.And I want both of you in your tents after lights out. I'll check.
But Connie, whose perceptiveness in everyday matters was always sharper than in tactical ones, had already noticed his cloak and the direction of his movement, clearly not toward the field kitchen. He gave his comrade a knowing look after the commander had left, but Levi's sharp ear still caught a quiet, stifled chuckle and Springer's whisper:
— I bet it's a date.
— Shut up, — Jean hissed back, but a smirk was also audible in his voice.
The Captain didn't turn around. He didn't even change his pace. But the words, stupid and pointless like everything that came from those brats, caught in his mind.
A date.
Levi almost snorted to himself. Nonsense. What kind of damn dates could there be in this hell, at the edge of the world, in the middle of a construction site that seemed like it would never end?
He remembered the red-haired woman's embarrassed smile, the proposal spoken a little breathlessly, the bag packed with his favorite tea. He remembered her gaze at the sea back then, years ago, full of pure, unclouded wonder.
Something twinged under his rib. Warm and out of place. No, this wasn't a date. It was... A brief moment stolen from the war, a moment when they could not be captain and soldier, but simply two people who were tired and wanted quiet.
But, damn it, that thought only made him more anxious. Because truces always end. And war always follows.
He shook his head sharply, banishing the unnecessary thoughts. What did it matter what it was called? Stupidity. Justified stupidity, nothing more.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice how he reached the meeting place.
Exactly forty minutes later, as ordered, two horses and Petra herself were waiting for him at the western edge of the camp. She had removed her headscarf; her red hair, still damp from washing, gently brushed her shoulders. She wore a long brown skirt and a loose shirt visible under her cloak.
Ral didn't say a word, just nodded as she handed him his horse's reins. Her eyes in the twilight seemed darker, holding a contained excitement. Levi took one of the canvas bags from her hands and, without a word, silently took the reins.
They rode in silence, only the clatter of hooves on the hard ground breaking the evening quiet. The air gradually changed, rushing into their lungs, cleansing them of the day's dust and fatigue.
And then a sound reached them—a steady, measured, persistent roar.
The sea…
They rode out onto a high hill, and the world opened up before them. The moon, full and dazzlingly white in the blackness of the sky, flooded everything with a cold light. Its wide, shimmering path lay on the water, stretching to the very horizon, where stars drowned in the abyss of the waves.
Petra, holding her breath, dismounted first. The woman took a bag with a small traveling pot and provisions from the saddle, spread a soft blanket on the dry grass, delighting in the feel of the prickly blades under her fingers.
Levi remained in the saddle a moment longer, then he jumped to the ground.
Ral watched out of the corner of her eye as he, with the impenetrable face of a professional, began the familiar ritual. The brunet stacked pre-gathered kindling and logs into a pyramid and struck a flame with one precise match. The fire came to life, illuminating his concentrated face. He went down to the water, rinsed the pot, filled it with fresh water from a canteen, and returned to the fire.
She was silent, mesmerized by the sight. He seemed to sense the water's temperature by skin; the captain removed the pot exactly at the moment the first pearl-like bubbles rose from the bottom. He measured a precise amount of tea leaves into the warmed mug, poured water over them with mathematical precision, covered it with a lid, timing it in his head. Exactly at the right moment, he removed it, and a rich aroma wafted into the night air, mingling with the smell of the sea and smoke. He poured the drink into two mugs and silently handed one to Ral.
— Thank you, — she whispered. The grey-eyed man just nodded,taking a sip.
Petra looked at the sea, at the endless black expanse shimmering under the moon, and felt the day's fatigue melting away inside her. It was so peaceful, so good here…
— I've never seen it like this, — she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the moon's path on the water. Her fingers clenched the mug as if trying to absorb its warmth, — During the day it seems... ordinary. But now...
— It doesn't change, — his voice was quieter than usual, almost dissolving in the sound of the surf, — The light changes. And we.
The scout turned to him, and the moonlight slid over her face.
— Do you think it was always like this...majestic? Even when we couldn't see it? — Levi set his mug on the blanket between them,his gaze fixed on the distance where the dark water and starry sky merged into one.
— Probably, — he fell silent for a couple of seconds, thinking, — Some things just exist. Whether we see them or not, — He turned his head,and his gaze met hers, — We spent half our lives fighting just to see this, — he nodded toward the ocean, — And it was just here all this time. Waiting.
Petra felt a pang in her throat. She saw him clench his fingers—not into his usual fist, but as if trying to grasp something elusive.
They sat in silence, listening to the waves rushing ashore and receding. This rhythm was older than them, older than the walls, older than humanity's memory itself.
— I wonder, — Petra spoke slowly, weighing each word, — how many more things are just... waiting for their time? Things we don't even suspect exist?
Levi took his mug again,turning it in his hands.
—Most of them,probably. The world isn't in a hurry to show all its cards, — He took a sip, and a thoughtful note appeared in his voice, — We're used to taking everything by force. But some things... they're just given. If you're in the right place. At the right time.
He wasn't looking at her, but Petra knew these words weren't just about the sea. They were sitting here not because they had won the right in battle. They had stolen this moment. They had accepted the gift of silence and solitude that the world offered so rarely.
— Strange, — she whispered, — to feel so small before all this. And... not be afraid.
He finally turned his face to her.The moonlight lay on his cheekbones, softening the harsh lines.
— Fear makes you move forward.But sometimes... you need to just stop to understand what you're moving for at all.
He was speaking with such simple words about things that usually remained behind seven seals in his soul. She cautiously reached out her hand and touched his fingers, still clutching the mug.
— Thank you, — she said quietly, — for agreeing to come.
Levi turned his palm over and for a moment squeezed her fingers.
— The tea is getting cold, — he said in his usual dry tone, but he didn't let go of her hand for a few more seconds.
Petra smiled, and this time the smile was calm and relaxed.
— Let it get cold, — she replied just as quietly, —We're not in a hurry anywhere.
The tea did get cold, but it was still wonderful, tart and aromatic.
They just sat and watched the moon sail across the sky, and the sea sang its ancient, eternal song to them. And in that song, there was no war, no death—only infinity and the quiet sound of the surf, washing away all the bitterness of the past.
Somewhere in the distance, a night bird cried, and its call was lost in the vast space between water and sky.
The Captain put his mug aside and leaned back, resting on his elbows. His gaze again fixed on the stars, not as a strategist assessing the terrain, but as a man allowing himself to simply look for the first time.
Petra followed his example, lying on her back beside him. The blanket was soft beneath her, the sky above an endless canvas of shining points.
— When I was little, — she said almost in a whisper, — my father said there are enough stars in the sky for every person to have their own. Even for those who are no longer with us.
Levi was silent for so long that Petra thought he wouldn't answer. His breathing was even, his gaze fixed on the flickering lights above. He seemed to be counting every star, remembering names.
— Then some stars burn too brightly, — he finally said, and his voice lacked its usual dryness. There was only a quiet, years-worn heaviness, —Sometimes it feels like I remember their names better than their faces.
Petra turned on her side,propping her head on her hand.
— They wouldn't want you to carry them with you like a burden, — she said carefully, — They chose to follow you. As did I.
Levi closed his eyes,and his fingers involuntarily clenched the blanket, as if seeking support.
— Choice... — he uttered the word with a bitter tinge, — We rarely have a choice, Petra. Most often—only duty. And the price for fulfilling it.
She moved a little closer,so her shoulder almost touched his.
— And this? — her whisper was almost lost in the sound of the surf, — Is this duty or a choice?
— This is... — he faltered, which was so unlike him. His fingers unclenched from the sand and slowly, almost uncertainly, moved toward her face, — Not duty.
His fingers touched her cheek. The touch was rough from calluses and scars, but incredibly gentle. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, as if trying to memorize every feature, every line.
Petra froze, afraid to move, to scare away this moment. His hand in her hair, his gaze, so unusually soft... She saw him look at her lips, and her own breath became uneven.
— Levi... — she whispered, and it was the first time she had called him by name without his rank here, on this shore.
His thumb stroked her lower lip, making her heart beat wildly. His face was so close she could see every eyelash, every tiny wrinkle around his eyes. He smelled of tea, smoke, and soap, a scent she would recognize out of a thousand.
She raised herself on her elbow, closing the remaining distance between them.
The kiss was clumsy. Their noses bumped, her teeth painfully hit his. She felt him freeze in surprise, his body tense under her palm. Petra was already about to pull back, to apologize in embarrassment, but he didn't let her.
Levi kissed her as he did everything else—with full commitment, with a concentration that took her breath away. His lips were soft and demanding, but there was no greed in them, only infinite, years-accumulated desire and an almost painful tenderness.
The Captain pulled away, his lips moving to her temple, to the corner of her eye, to her neck, leaving a trail of light, almost weightless kisses.
He pulled her to him, and they found themselves on the blanket, entwined in an embrace under the endless starry sky. Far below, the surf roared, flooding their small, world-stolen island with moonlight. And in that moment, there was no captain, no soldier, no walls, no duty. There were only them—two people who had found a quiet harbor in each other after a long storm.
Petra pulled away and lazily ran her fingers over his tense back, feeling scars and taut muscles under her fingertips.
— You know, — she began quietly, — The water is probably still warm. We could…
— No, — his voice sounded muffled, his face buried in her hair, — We just washed. Idiotic idea.
— But we washed off the dust, — Petra countered, and a mischievous spark flashed in her eyes, — This would be… just because. For ourselves.
She easily slipped out of his embrace, and her laughter rang out in the night silence, as light and carefree as the splash of the waves below. Without a word, she stopped at the edge of the blanket and, without taking her shining eyes off him, kicked off her shoes, then pulled the loose shirt over her head, leaving it on the rough fabric.
— Petra, — a warning note, that captain's note, sounded in his voice.
But she had already shed the rest of her clothes and turned to him. Her smile was bold and carefree, the likes of which he didn't think he'd ever seen on her.
Ral turned and ran down the hill toward the water, her bare feet treading soundlessly on the grass. The moon illuminated her naked back and flowing hair, making the image both fragile and unreal against the backdrop of the endless black water, shimmering with thousands of reflected stars.
Levi froze for a second, watching her figure dissolve into the darkness. He sighed heavily, his eyes showing complete bewilderment at this sudden, carefree folly.
But then he heard a stifled squeal from below and a splash of water. And a strange, warm, and light feeling pricked him under the rib, making the corner of his lips twitch in an almost imperceptible smile.
With a curse that sounded more like a stifled chuckle, he rose and, taking off his shirt and trousers, followed her.
The water was indeed warm, almost tepid, contrasting with the cool night air. Levi waded in slowly, with his usual caution, moving toward the woman.
— See?I told you! — she swam up to him and, with a playful smile, splashed water in his face.
He didn't answer, just grabbed her by the waist and dunked her abruptly. She surfaced, sputtering and laughing, with wet hair plastered to her face and shining eyes. And in that instant, he caught himself thinking that for this light on her face, he was perhaps willing to endure even greater folly.
— Someday, — she said suddenly, looking at him with a serious expression, — when we finish this damn road… Everything will change. We'll be able to… Just go. Anywhere. To the sea. To the mountains. To any part of the island.
She swam closer,her eyes shining in the moonlight not with mischief now, but with hope.
— Imagine,we just get on a train and leave. Leave everything behind. At least for a little while. Maybe there will be more moments like this.
The brunet looked at her, and something shifted in his usually cold eyes. He saw not a soldier, but a woman who, having gone through hell, could still nurture this fragile, almost childlike hope for ordinary human happiness. For a future.
Ral made another stroke, coming close to him.
— I just want to believe that someday we'll learn to use what we've built not just for war.
He didn't answer. Instead, he did something he would never have done in the light of day, in front of anyone. He reached out, touched her wet hair, and with a gentle motion pulled her to him to simply… hold her. Standing chest-deep in the warm water under the starry sky, in complete silence, broken only by their breathing and the sound of the surf.
Petra understood. She smiled, a little sadly, but without a trace of disappointment. It was important for her to voice that hope aloud, to place it between them like a seed that might someday sprout.
She knew he heard her and, perhaps, also wanted to believe in that naive dream. And for now... for now they stood here, and salty spray was on their lips, and the warm sea hid their embrace from the whole world, that dream was already alive.
_____________________________
They returned to camp an hour before official reveille, when the night had already begun to retreat but hadn't yet surrendered completely. The air, wrapped in night coolness, burned their lungs with a pleasant purity after the salty sea wind.
The sky in the east was just beginning to lighten, tinged with delicate pearlescent hues. The first rays of the sun, still invisible beyond the horizon, were already beginning to blur the night's darkness, promising a new day, just as long and dusty, but now with a particle of this night hidden deep behind their breastbones.
The silence around was fragile and temporary, broken only by distant snoring from the barracks and the creak of a weathervane on the commander's tent.
It was at that moment that the flap of one of the nearest tents opened, and Sasha emerged, scratching her stomach and yawning widely. She froze, staring at them with sleepy eyes. Then her gaze slid over their wet, disheveled hair, over the dark cloak thrown over Petra's shoulders, over their tired but strangely peaceful faces.
From behind her came Connie's voice:
— Well,Sasha? Are they bringing breakfast already? — The soldier squeezed through the opening, rubbing his eyes, followed by Jean with a disgruntled grumble.
The three of them froze, lined up in a row, three pairs of eyes staring in one direction.
— It's... — whispered Connie, and his sleep vanished instantly, — I won the rations! I told you!
Jean, pale as a sheet, sharply covered his comrade's mouth with his hand.
— Quiet,you idiot! — he hissed.
— They…They're dating?! — Sasha asked in surprise, looking girlishly delighted at the retreating figures of Ral and Ackerman.
— We didn't see anything!No-thing! Understood?
— But the rations... — Connie began, but his comrade grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dragging him into the tent.
— They probably have no strength left for breakfast...It'd be a shame if the portions go to waste...
Petra grew alert; she thought she caught fragments of phrases, but the tent flap had already fallen, swallowing the conversation of the curious soldiers.
She stood for a few seconds in the darkness, and then his fingers, quick and precise, closed around her wrist for a moment, gently but firmly. The gesture spoke for itself: Let's go. Nothing happened.
She raised her eyes to him and nodded. Her gaze held not a trace of embarrassment, only a quiet, bright certainty and that very hope born tonight. Maybe the future wouldn't be easy, but it would definitely have room for more stolen moments like this.
The camp was waking up. A pot clanged somewhere, someone yawned loudly, the smell of the first campfire smoke wafted through the air. A new long day, dust, and the iron road lay ahead.