Attack on Titan: Wolfborn

Chapter XIX: Echoes

The midday sun streamed through the dusty windows of the cadet barracks, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The air hung heavy with the scent of wood polish and sweat, a testament to the cadets' recent cleaning efforts. Outside, Trost was unusually quiet. The familiar sounds of reconstruction had faded, leaving only the occasional distant call of soldiers.

Jean Kirstein lay sprawled on his bunk, hands behind his head, a contented smile playing on his lips. He stretched luxuriously, savoring the warmth of the sunbeam on his face. "Ah, this is the life," he sighed. "No duties, no training, just kicking back and taking it easy.”

At a nearby table, Marco glanced up from polishing his blades, concern etched on his face. "Jean, don't you think you should be preparing? I heard there's going to be an inspection soon, and it sounds serious."

Jean propped himself up on one elbow, eyeing his friend with amusement "Pfft. Give it a rest. At this rate, you'll wear those blades out before you even use them."

On the floor, Reiner and Bertholdt sat cross-legged, hunched over a chessboard. Reiner’s face was a mask of concentration, his fingers drumming against the wooden surface as he pondered his next move. He rubbed his eyes, fighting to stay alert. Meanwhile, Bertholdt’s gaze kept wandering to the window, his posture tense.

“An inspection?” Bertholdt asked, his voice tinged with anxiety.

Jean sighed, “You too? It’s probably nothing. Just enjoy the free time while it lasts. We always have inspections.”

Bertholdt shifted uncomfortably, a frown creasing his forehead. “I don’t know… I saw extra checkpoints around the city today, and they told us to stay in the barracks...”

Reiner, eyes still glued to the chessboard, slid a piece forward with a soft clink. “Check,” he muttered, barely stifling a yawn, clearly more focused on the game than Bertholdt's unease.

Bertholdt’s brow furrowed deeper, his voice quieter but no less anxious. “Doesn’t this feel off to you? Like they’re preparing for something?”

Jean flopped back onto his bunk with a grunt. “You’re being paranoid. If you want to worry about it, go ahead. Me? I’m taking a nap. We can’t do anything about it, anyway.”

Marco’s expression turned grave. “Jean, you can't just brush this off. If we're joining the Military Police, we need to take this seriously. We need to demonstrate that we’re prepared for the important work ahead of us.”

Jean's eyebrows shot up as he let out an incredulous laugh. "Yeah, right. In the interior? Come on, Marco. It's all about living the good life away from all this..." He waved his hand vaguely towards the window, his voice trailing off as he caught a glimpse of Trost's devastation beyond.

Marco persisted, his voice gentle but firm. "It's not about that, Jean. We'll be serving the people, the King, protecting them."

Jean's face flushed, a flicker of shame crossing his features before he masked it with a sardonic smile. "Oh, absolutely. I can’t wait to trade in fighting for my life and cleaning up wrecks for guarding the King’s morning tea. Sounds like a real upgrade to me."

Marco sighed, shaking his head. "Don’t you see? It’s a commitment to something greater, keeping our people safe and maintaining order. We can't lose sight of that."

“Sure, that sounds great, especially if it means we’re far away from all the chaos out here.” His tone shifted, the sarcasm giving way to a more vulnerable note. “But, after everything we’ve been through, why shouldn’t we want that? We’ve earned this, haven’t we?”

Reiner looked up from the chessboard, his expression resolute. “Jean, I understand what you’re saying, but Marco’s right. Whatever regiment we choose, it shouldn’t be to chase what’s comfortable or safe. Our duty as soldiers is to protect humanity—that’s the oath we took.”

He leaned forward, his voice steady but firm. "Those words matter. We didn’t train all this time just to let it all go to waste. Every decision we make affects everyone inside these walls. That’s the burden we carry, and it’s not something you can just walk away from.”

Bertholdt's eyes darted nervously between Reiner and the others, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He remained silent, offering only a hesitant nod.

Jean’s voice tightened, his frustration barely contained. "Did any of us know what we were signing up for, Reiner? They fed us lines about duty and sacrifice, but they never told us what it would cost. We weren't ready for this—losing friends, seeing people we care about torn apart, eaten... living every day wondering if we’re next. We didn’t sign up for constant fear, for watching everything we fight for crumble while we pretend to hold it together."

Marco’s expression softened. "Jean, what happened here… it hit all of us hard. I can’t even imagine how it must feel for you, losing your home like this." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I’m terrified too. But hiding from it won’t change anything."

Marco’s voice grew firmer, his gaze steady as he leaned in. “I know it feels pointless right now. But once we’re in the Military Police, we’ll be in a position to make real change. Think about it, we know what’s at stake better than anyone in the interior. With what we’ve seen, we could help prevent another Trost, make sure no one has to go through that again. If we don’t even try, who will?”

Jean scoffed, but Marco didn’t falter.

"Yeah, I’m scared. Facing titans again... it’s paralyzing. But we can't run from it. We owe it to ourselves and to everyone we’ve lost, not just to survive, but to make things better. To protect others from going through what we did.”

Jean shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. "You’re fooling yourself if you think they’d listen to us, Marco." He turned back toward the window, his posture had slumped, the bravado gone. "You really think anyone in the interior cares about what’s happening out here? They just want to keep living their nice, peaceful lives. Who can blame them?"

He fell silent, a shadow crossing his features. "No one joins the Military Police to play hero. They’re signing up to survive."

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a commotion erupted from the streets below. The cadets rushed to the windows, curiosity piqued.

A convoy of wagons rolled down the street, soldiers marching alongside them with grim expressions. They all bore the insignia of the Military Police.

Marco's eyes widened. "That's a lot of MPs... Isn't this overboard for an inspection?"

Bertholdt's face paled slightly, his hands gripping the windowsill.

Even Reiner looked up from the chessboard, a flicker of concern crossing his face before he quickly suppressed it.

Jean frowned, a flicker of concern breaking through. "Alright, I’ll admit it... that does looks serious."

The small, crowded room felt like a pressure cooker, sealed off from the bustling streets of Trost outside. Slivers of sunlight struggled through a lone, narrow window, casting long shadows across the worn wooden table where the Scout Regiment's leadership had gathered. Muffled sounds of wagon wheels on cobblestone and sharp military commands filtered in.

Commander Erwin sat at the head of the table, his piercing blue eyes surveying the room, by his side Section Commander Miche stood tall. Captain Levi leaned against the wall near the window, his face an impassive mask. Across from Erwin, Hange fidgeted with her glasses, her usual exuberance replaced by an uncharacteristic quietude.

Anja sat near the back, her mind struggling to stay present as a dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as her thoughts drifted between the gruesome sight of the dead Titans and the memory of the birds on her windowsill. She rubbed her temples, trying to shake the feeling.

The Commander’s voice pulled her attention back to the present. "Hange, your report."

Hange stood, her hands trembling slightly. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “As you're aware, both our test subjects, Sawney and Beane, were..." Her words faded in and out of Anja's consciousness, like waves lapping at a distant shore. "...killed last night. The method was... precise. Clean cuts to the..."

Anja blinked hard. For a moment, she thought she caught a whiff of fresh grass. Faint laughter seemed to drift from somewhere outside. She shook her head, dazed.

Hange's voice came back into focus, "...avoided detection. It's clear that our suspect has military background."

"How is that possible?" someone asked, the voice sounded distant to Anja's ears, a faint echo.

"Only Scouts had access to the tent. And the area was well-guarded."

Anja's gaze drifted across the room, settling on a scout she didn't recognize. For a fraction of a second, she saw a face achingly familiar. She blinked, and the image shifted, leaving a brown-haired soldier in its place. He was now staring at Anja with a puzzled expression, she muttered a silent apology, quickly averting her eyes.

Suddenly, the voices in the room sharpened, cutting through the haze in Anja's mind.

Erwin held up a hand, silencing the murmurs. "Please, I know how all this sounds. But there's more."

Hange hesitated, eyes scanning her notes before she spoke. "We found a hidden entry point a small hole at the back of the tent, concealed behind equipment and crates. That’s likely how the killer got in without being seen."

Anja felt her blood run cold. She gripped the edge of her chair, willing her face to remain neutral as panic threatened to overwhelm her. A sharp pain lanced through her head, causing her to wince.

The room erupted in whispers, the sound swelling like a tide in Anja's ears.

"A traitor?"

"Who?"

“Spies?”

For a moment, Anja thought she heard birds chirping, a sweet melody that rose above the bustle. She looked around, confused, no one else seemed to notice, that or they were too engrossed to hear.

Had she heard right? Her mind reeled, fragmented thoughts swirling in a storm of panic. The hole in the tent… Her heart pounded. She had made that hole. She never imagined it would matter, never thought it would lead to this. She thought she was the only one who knew.

But then, like a cold blade sinking into her chest, the realization hit her with crushing dread.

No… she wasn’t the only one.

Annie's face flashed in her mind, pale with shock and fear as she saw the captured Titans. Her eyes wide, body tense. The anger in her voice as she confronted Anja.

Anja’s stomach churned. Her breath caught in her throat.

Could Annie have...?

Anja tried to push the thought away, but it clung to her like a shadow. Doubt gnawed at her insides, twisting tighter with every second. Maybe... someone else had found that hole.

If she spoke up now, they might turn their suspicions on Annie. What would happen to her? What would they do to her?

Anja’s pulse raced, panic bubbling up. She had to be certain, had to find out herself before everything spiraled out of control.

Commander Erwin’s voice cut through the chaos. "We must consider all possibilities..."

Her head pounded, each thought a hammer blow against her skull. She caught fragments of his words, like pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite assemble.

"...remain within Trost... investigation... report directly..."

The room swam before her eyes, faces blurring into indistinct shapes. Anja gripped the edge of her chair, anchoring herself to reality as if lost in a labyrinth with no clear exit.

"...dismissed."

Suddenly, the room was in motion. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices murmured in hushed tones. Anja blinked. She stood on shaky legs, her body moving on it’s own.

"Private Wolf."

Anja turned, startled to find Commander Erwin standing beside her. His keen blue eyes felt as if they were dissecting her thoughts, and for a heart-stopping moment, she was certain he knew everything.

"Sir?" she managed.

His expression remained neutral, a mask of professional detachment that betrayed nothing. "I wanted to inform you that your schedule for today has been canceled. All your public appearances are postponed until further notice."

Anja nodded, she felt a wave of relief washing over her. Just routine information. Nothing more. But as the tension began to ebb, she noticed a strange glint in the Commander’s eyes.

"For now," He continued, his tone casual, "you're to remain in your quarters until the inspection is complete. Standard procedure, you understand."

"Of course, sir," Anja replied, fighting to keep her voice steady. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, certain that he could hear it too.

Erwin's gaze lingered on her face, his brow furrowing slightly. "Is everything alright, Private? You seem distracted."

Anja swallowed hard, forcing a weak smile. "Just feeling a little off, sir. I'll be fine."

The Commander nodded, his expression softening. "I see. Take the time to rest, then.” He paused, then added, "That will be all, soldier."

As Anja left the room, she couldn't shake the feeling that Erwin's eyes were still on her. She quickened her pace, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere and the weight of her own suspicions.

She slipped into the shadows, hugging the crumbling walls of a ruined building. Her movements were fluid, calculated, as she avoided the patches of harsh sunlight streaming across the streets. She stopped under the cover of a collapsed archway, eyes narrowed as she watched a squad of Military Police march past. The soldiers' faces were tense, their steps brisk and focused. They didn't see her, not even a flicker of awareness in their gaze.

Her fingers grazed the cold metal of the ring on her hand, a weight she rarely carried. Today, though, it was necessary. Something was off, she could feel it.

As she considered her next move, a faint sound broke the stillness, a boot scraping against loose stone. Annie tensed, her body reacting before her mind caught up. In a swift, silent motion, she spun around, her fist arcing through the air, stopping just short of a startled face.

"Whoa!" Sasha yelped, stumbling backward, her eyes wide. "Annie, it's just us!"

Annie's fist hovered in the air for a heartbeat longer before she lowered it, her expression betraying none of the adrenaline still pounding in her veins. Behind Sasha, Ymir leaned against a fractured wall, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, though her watchful eyes never left Annie.

"Jumpy today, aren't we, Leonhart?" Ymir's voice carried its usual teasing edge, but there was a sharpness beneath it.

Annie narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here?" Her tone was calm, cold.

Ymir shrugged. "Could ask the same thing to you."

The two stood at a silent standstill, tension crackling between them. Sasha, who had been quiet until now, shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she spoke up.

"We were just..." She hesitated, then pushed through. "We were tryin’ to get a handle on what’s goin’ on... When I saw you leave the barracks, we figured we’d follow you and see what we could find out."

Ymir shot Sasha a look of disbelief. Sasha, oblivious to Ymir's reaction, continued.

"They wouldn't let me leave the city this morning. This inspection just don't sit right with me."

Both Annie and Ymir were taken aback by Sasha's candor. Ymir's smirk faltered slightly as she straightened, her attention now on Sasha.

"You tried to leave?" Her tone sharpened, incredulous. "Without permission?" Ymir's expression turned to a half-mocking, half-serious scold. "Trying to add desertion to your resume? You know that's grounds for a court-martial, right?"

Sasha's face flushed. "I wasn’t tryin’ to leave for long, I just..." She took a deep breath, her voice softening. "I was gonna check on Connie’s family. I wanted to make sure they’re doin’ alright."

Annie glanced back toward the street, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. The lockdown felt suspicious; keeping everyone inside wasn’t standard procedure, much less locking down the entire city. As she watched the soldiers going door to door, it was clear they were searching for something—or someone—but they were grasping at straws.

"What about you?" Ymir's voice cut through Annie's thoughts. "Were you planning on going somewhere, blondie?"

Annie turned slightly. "Here. Same as you." But her words slipped out softer than she intended, not cool and detached, but filled with an involuntary note of longing that she immediately regretted.

Ymir's eyes glinted with something more than mere curiosity. "Well, well, well. Didn't know you had feelings." She leaned in, her voice lowering. "Have someone waiting for you out there?"

Before she could respond, a commotion down the street caught their attention. MPs rushed past, their voices raised in urgency, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones. The three cadets watched as the soldiers closed off the street, arranging themselves in tense groups.

Annie leaned in, straining to hear the soldiers’ conversation. “…swear if we have to get dragged to one of these shitholes again,” one soldier grumbled, his voice laced with irritation. “Who are we even looking for this time? Another runaway?”

His companion sighed, the weariness palpable in his tone. “Command didn’t give us much to work with. Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious. They want this wrapped up fast.”

Annie's posture stiffened imperceptibly. Anything suspicious? They were casting a wide net, anyone could easily be singled out.

"Why is this so important anyway? It's not like we haven't got better things to do." the first soldier replied, his voice dropping, as if wary of being overheard.

"Figures. I just want to get the hell out of here. There could be Titans still lurking..."

"Don't be ridiculous. All the Titans were cleared out weeks ago," the second soldier scoffed, though a hint of doubt crept into his voice.

"A few of our guys stationed here told me they saw something moving behind the ruins at night… something big."

An uncomfortable silence followed, punctuated only by the echoing footsteps of the MPs and the distant clatter of debris shifting in the wind.

“They're just messing with you,” the second soldier finally said, though both seemed fidgety, glancing over their shoulders at every sound. Their voices faded as they continued down the street, their steps a little quicker than before.

Ymir, muttered under her breath. "Looking for someone, huh? That narrows it down."

Sasha, her face paling slightly, whispered, "What was that about Titans? We’d’ve spotted ’em by now, wouldn’t we?"

Annie shook her head, striving to keep her tone steady. "It’s nothing. Just soldiers letting their imaginations run wild."

Sasha swallowed hard, her confidence faltering. "Right… It can’t be possible. Titans don’t just sprout up like weeds overnight."

“Don’t worry,” Ymir chimed in, remarking with a wry smile. “I’m sure the ‘Hero of Trost’ will scare the Titans away.” She paused, her gaze setting on Annie. “Speaking of... Anyone seen red lately? I only see her in posters these days.”

Annie’s eyes snapped to Ymir, a flicker of something—surprise? concern?—crossing Ymir’s face before it vanished.

Sasha hesitated. “I... I caught wind of somethin’ about the Scouts meeting earlier. Anja might’ve been there.” She frowned, scratching her head. “Hard to say with the lockdown in place.”

For a brief moment, genuine shock washed over Annie's features. She quickly composed herself, but Ymir caught the fleeting expression, a knowing glint in her eye.

“Well,” Ymir said, stretching as she stood. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m not keen on sticking around here. Better head back before the MPs notice we don’t match the decor.”

As Sasha began to move, Annie remained rooted, her mind racing with the new information.

What were the Scouts up to? Surely Anja would have mentioned it...

“You coming, Leonhart?” Ymir called back, her tone deceptively casual, but her gaze was keen, as if searching for answers.

Annie frowned slightly, giving one last glance to the street below. "Yes," she replied quietly, falling into step behind them, her fingers brushing against her ring.

Whatever was happening in Trost, whatever the Scouts were planning, Annie knew one thing for certain: she needed to be ready for anything.

Anja trudged down the dim corridor towards her quarters, Moblit's footsteps echoing beside her. The air felt thick, almost oppressive, and Anja found herself blinking away the spots dancing at the edges of her vision.

"This will set back our research," Moblit sighed, breaking the silence. "Who knows how long until we capture the next batch of titans..."

Anja nodded absently, her mind elsewhere. "How is Hange taking it?"

"From experience, I can tell you, not well at all. She gets too attached to them..." Moblit's voice lowered. "But don’t worry, she’ll be back to her old self soon enough... I hope." He added under his breath, "For both our sakes."

They reached Anja's door, and Moblit turned to her, concern etched across his features. "Get some rest and be ready for the inspection. It shouldn't be long now." His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Anja forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yes, just tired. I’ll be fine."

Moblit gave a slow nod, still unconvinced. “Alright. Take care of yourself.” With one last lingering glance, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the corridor.

As the familiar creak of her door echoed in the silence, Anja stepped inside and closed it softly behind her. The room felt stifling, filled with memories that tugged at her mind. She paced back and forth, her thoughts swirling like a storm—the death of the research Titans, the urgent meeting, the impending inspection. Worry and confusion crashed against her, each wave more overwhelming than the last, but one thought kept surfacing, more insistent than the rest.

Annie

What if someone had seen them near the tent? What if they pinned the blame on Annie? The idea made her stomach twist, but she knew she had to talk to her, had to be sure.

It didn’t make sense. That wasn’t like her at all. What could she have to gain by killing them? Anja racked her brain for an answer, but the more she thought, the less it added up.

The weight of it all pressed down, memories and doubts blending into a suffocating fog. Her chest tightened, the air in the room thick, choking. She needed space, needed air.

Stumbling to the window, she flung it open and gasped, the cool breeze flooding her lungs, briefly clearing the haze. But as she leaned against the sill, something caught her eye.

Those two birds perched on the ledge.

Their feathers looked dull, ashen. They didn’t move, didn’t react to her presence. Just sat there, eerily still, their unblinking eyes fixed on nothing.

“Still here?” Anja muttered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in her ears. A prickle of unease wormed its way through her. The birds didn’t so much as twitch.

Anja stepped closer, her gaze locking on their eyes, flat, lifeless, as though they were absorbing the light around them. Her breath hitched, confusion twisting into something darker, a sense that things weren’t as they should be.

And then, from the silence, a sound, barely there, almost imagined. A haunting melody, like a lullaby, wound with dissonance. The notes were off, warping the air, pulling at her thoughts.

A compulsion tugged at her, irrational but undeniable. The room seemed to tilt. The air thickened with something unsaid, the quiet growing oppressive. She reached out, her fingers trembling, drawn to the birds as if pulled by invisible strings.

The moment her hand brushed the feathers, a screech tore through the air, high and piercing. Pain, sharp, raw, not her own, flooded her senses. Her head snapped back as if struck, the sound burrowing into her skull.

And then…Silence.

The bird crumbled beneath her touch, disintegrating into a fine, ash-like powder, leaving only the hollow shell of what it had been. Anja recoiled, her heart pounding, as the other bird untouched—followed, collapsing silently into the same dark dust. The space around her suddenly felt alien, as though the room itself was watching her.

She stumbled back from the window, frozen, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the last remnants of the birds scattered to the floor. The air was thick, unnervingly still, and the room hummed with an oppressive silence that made her feel she wasn’t alone.

Then, without warning, a sound. A sudden, eerie break in the stillness.

Childish laughter echoed faintly, a sound that shouldn't be there, followed by a soft, distant voice calling her name.

“Anja... Anja...”

Gripping the windowsill for support, Anja leaned out, the room spinning behind her. The voice, the laughter, had to be coming from somewhere. She squinted through her blurred vision, her eyes scanning the street below.

Then she saw him.

A soldier, a rifle slung over his shoulder, walking with a casual stride. Her breath hitched, heart slamming against her chest. Vibrant green eyes, short blond hair, there was no mistaking that face.

Heinrik

The name echoed in her mind, but it caught in her throat, tangled with disbelief. Her body trembled. He was supposed to be dead. She had buried him in her memories, and yet here he was. Standing. Moving. Alive.

This couldn’t be real.

But those eyes… those unmistakable eyes locked with hers for a fleeting moment.

Without thinking, Anja bolted from her room, racing down the stairs two at a time, her dizziness causing her to careen off the walls. She barely felt the impact.

Bursting through the door, Anja stumbled onto the cobblestones. Bright sunlight assaulted her eyes, forcing her to squint against the sudden glare. The crowd before her blurred and shifted, faces melding into an indistinct mass.

"Heinrik!" she called out, her voice weaker than she intended. Pushing forward, she felt clumsy and uncoordinated. "Heinrik, wait!"

People materialized around her, their voices sharp but distant. "Soldier! Get back inside immediately!"

Anja fought against the grip of heavy limbs. "Let me go," she mumbled, words slurring. "I have to... He's here. I saw him."

"Stand down, soldier!" The man’s voice echoed strangely in her ears, distorted and far away.

A familiar voice pierced through the haze, faint at first but growing stronger. “Wait! Wait!” Moblit’s words seemed to break through the chaos in her mind, his figure finally materializing in her spinning vision.

"...under my supervision... Hero of Trost... not herself..." His voice rose and fell, words slipping in and out of her grasp, like sand through her fingers.

The grip on her arms loosened, and Anja blinked, struggling to focus on the faces surrounding her. Their expressions shifting from suspicion to confusion.

She felt Moblit's hand on her shoulder, steadying her swaying form. "I apologize... not feeling well... escort her back..."

As he began to lead her away, Anja made one last desperate scan of the crowd. The world spun violently, faces and buildings merging into an indistinct blur. She thought she saw a flash of blond hair, a glimmer of green eyes, but it vanished before she could grasp it.

"Heinrik-" The name escaped her lips. The ground rushed up to meet her as darkness claimed her vision.

-

-

-

"AAAAAAAHHH!!

A scream, jagged and raw, tearing through the void.

Burnt flesh—charred, blistering.

A trail of crimson, snaking into impenetrable darkness

Flesh twists, bones crack, a body contorts

"PLEASE, NO MORE!"

Tik... tik... tik...

BANG BANG BANG—

Shredded muscle. Torn skin.

Gasping. Choking.

A forest crumbles to ash.

Writhing bodies. Skinless. Raw.

Glinting metal. Plunging syringe.

Tik... tik... tik...

Stone, marred by a slick, dark stain.

Viscous darkness dripping.

A silent scream, reverberating.

"...elp... m..."

Tik... tik... tik...

Anja's eyes fluttered open, blinking away the haze of sleep. She found herself in an unfamiliar room, wrapped snugly in warm blankets. The crackle of a nearby fireplace and the gentle whistle of a boiling kettle filled the air. Her feet submerged in warm water, yet a bone-deep chill permeated her body.

She frowned slightly, trying to recall how she'd gotten here. Her mind felt strangely fuzzy, the details slipping away like wisps of smoke. She had a nagging sense that she was forgetting something important, but the more she grasped for it, the more it seemed to elude her.

Tik...tik...tik...

Her gaze drifted to the window, seeking the source of the sound. There, perched on the sill, was a bird. Its feathers were so black they seemed to absorb the dim light around it. As if sensing her attention, the bird ceased its pecking and turned to face her. Its head moved in quick, jerky motions, unnatural in their precision.

Its eye, a pinprick of endless darkness, fixed upon her.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The bird remained motionless, save for those, twitchy movements of its head.

Time seemed to stretch, the silence broken only by the pounding of Anja's heart.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a bang. Anja jumped, a gasp escaping her lips. Her head whipped towards the sound.

"You're awake, thank god," Moblit's voice cut through her startled state. He rushed to her side, relief evident on his face.

Anja's eyes darted back to the window, but the bird had vanished without a trace. Had it ever been there at all?

Moblit's voice drew her attention back. "How are you feeling? We couldn't get a doctor with the inspection going on."

Anja blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his concern. "I... I'm fine," she said, surprised to find that it was true. Aside from the vague ache in her muscles and the strange sense of unease, she felt oddly rested, her mind clear. "Just a bit groggy. What happened?"

Moblit sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You collapsed in the street. Don't you remember?"

The memory came back in fragments - a face in the crowd, familiar yet different. "I thought I saw... No, it couldn't have been. It's just... I thought I saw my brother."

Moblit's gaze flickered with unease. "Your brother? Is he serving too? In the Military Police?"

Anja's heart sank. "No, he... He died five years ago." She paused, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "There were similarities, but... It's all blurred together now. I just have this lingering feeling..." She rubbed her temples, trying to shake off the fog in her mind. “Never mind.”

"I didn't know... I'm sorry." Moblit's expression softened, but a hint of weariness showed in his eyes. He let out a tired sigh. "Look, Anja, I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately. And I get it, I do. But you need to be more careful. The MPs are looking for any excuse to discredit us. We can't afford slip-ups, especially not now."

Anja she lowered her gaze. "I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Moblit’s tone softened slightly. "Just... If there’s anything going on, anything at all, tell me, alright? We need you at your best."

Before Anja could respond, a sharp knock at the door interrupted them. An MP entered, scanning the room quickly.

"All clear," he reported. "Gear checks out."

“Good,” came Levi's voice from the hallway, curt and commanding. “You’re done here.”

The MP nodded and quickly exited, leaving the door ajar.

Captain Levi stepped in, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. Anja, bundled in blankets. Moblit, harried and tense. A beat of silence, heavy with unspoken questions.

"I wasn't aware we were running a spa," Levi said dryly. "Someone care to explain?"