Chapter Text
“Maybe… move that main unit a bit.”
“I already moved it.”
“A little to the right…”
“It’s already to the right!”
Moblit’s irritated response didn’t annoy her - it made her laugh. She had to be honest: she tested his patience far too often.
Hange leaned even closer over Moblit’s shoulder, eyes glued to the monitor, as if she could crawl inside it and fix the problem herself. She pushed her glasses up her nose and traced the bridge with her finger, a gesture she often made when lost in thought.
Moblit exhaled sharply, and Hange felt the rush of air on her cheek as she continued to study the now-complete model. He turned toward her, just inches away, and she smiled at him.
“Patience, Mob. It’s almost perfect. It’s just that…”
“Hange, please,” Moblit’s tone was about the same every time he spoke to her: equal parts concern and exasperation. “It can’t be more perfect than this. There’s nothing left to improve…”
“Wrong. There’s always something to improve.”
Moblit ran a hand over his face and slumped back against the swivel chair, while she kept her gaze fixed on the monitor with a frown.
It was true - the project proposal looked practically flawless. There weren’t any obvious improvements left to make before the presentation. But she couldn’t afford mistakes; she couldn’t afford missteps. Not when that little demon was always in the meeting room, ready to pounce at the slightest slip.
Flat tone, bored expression, absolutely poisonous statement.
“How’s it going, rays of sunshine?”
Zeke’s voice filled the small office, cheerful and crystal clear. He peeked in from behind the glass door with flair, already heading toward their desk. Hange was hit by his familiar scent of coffee mixed with that sharp tang of nicotine that always followed him. A combination utterly familiar to her.
She looked at him and instantly hated him. An unlit cigarette between his lips, an old-rose shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he looked fresh as a daisy while she and Moblit hadn’t slept in days trying to keep up with the project. That morning she had only remembered to wear pants by sheer luck.
Maybe that was the fundamental difference between managers and employees.
“I’m about to do a backflip out of the window,” Moblit muttered under his breath, his bitterness only surfacing in moments of extreme stress. He grabbed the monitor and angled it toward Zeke, partially blocking Hange’s view. “Look at this. Tell me it’s not the god of projects.”
Zeke narrowed his eyes into slits and leaned toward the screen, just as Hange had. She stared at him, waiting for an opinion that - though it came from someone she respected - wouldn’t satisfy her.
“This is our Founder Ymir,” Zeke declared with a huge grin, straightening up. “Han, it’s perfect. Even Erwin will be impressed. You two are a winning team.”
Hange smiled, tight-lipped. Zeke let out a sigh, while Moblit rolled his eyes in annoyance.
“Hange,” Moblit stood up. “Enough. I’m going to eat now. You go eat. All of us go eat. Then we have this meeting, we present this proposal I’ve seen more than my own mother’s face, more than my reflection in the mirror, and then we go grab a drink.”
Hange crossed her arms and frowned. Yes, this project was a bomb - innovative, fresh, compelling. But it was hard to relax when someone was always ready to cut you down. She could already feel that cold gaze piercing her back…
“Oh, sugar,” Zeke said, approaching and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t let the little gremlin crush your spirit. It’s a really good proposal.”
“He’s not crushing my spirit,” Hange replied with mild irritation. “He’s stressing it.”
Moblit gave her a pointed look. She returned it with mock indignation, hand on her chest.
“You wouldn’t dare compare us.”
“No, you’re right,” Moblit said, tidying his papers. “At least he doesn’t send me strings of messages at three in the morning just because he had a sudden flash of genius.”
Zeke laughed, and Hange grabbed her bag. But why did no one seem to understand the urgency of a sudden idea, the need for immediate inspiration? If you think you’ve had a stroke of genius, you can’t just wait.
“Moblit, what snake bit you? I’ve never heard you like this,” Zeke said, following them out.
“Go design with Hange,” Moblit challenged. “Actually, go design with Hange when you know Ackerman will be in the meeting room, and then let me know.”
“Already done, I’m not going back there. I imagine that’s what Forte Salta captivity must’ve felt like during the war.”
“You two are jerks,” Hange hissed, but she was smiling. “Moblit, remind me never to let you reach that point again. You’re usually only this bitter when you drink.”
“You’re hilarious, Hange, really.”
Before leaving for lunch, they stopped in the middle of the hallway as usual, waiting for Miche. The project managers’ office - unfortunately - was right next to the little demon’s.
And there he was: Levi Ackerman, standing straight as a rod, bored expression, perfectly pressed white shirt, not a wrinkle in sight. Every inch of him screamed order, discipline, perfection.
Hange grimaced. The boredom that human inspired in her was beyond comprehension. Why couldn’t he just give himself a break and stop taking everything so seriously? And for someone so constantly angry, he had enviable skin.
Hange was convinced he was a sort of succubus, a vampire feeding off the satisfaction of crushing her enthusiasm. It seemed like he was born for it.
He and Miche stood side by side - an ironic sight, given Miche’s towering height - probably discussing the latest company financials or something equally boring.
When Miche noticed them, he waved, prompting Levi to glance up at them.
“Don’t look him in the eyes,” Hange whispered. “We risk turning into stone.”
Zeke stifled a laugh.
“That was subtle, culturally refined. Ten out of ten.”
“Only the best for you guys.”
Miche approached in long strides, Levi following closely. Hange instinctively clutched the pocket of her pants where she kept the USB with the presentation files.
Levi scanned her from head to toe, expression flat as ever. Then his gaze moved to the folders in Moblit’s hands. He lifted his chin slightly, eyes returning to her.
“Want me to destroy the proposal now, Four-Eyes?” he asked neutrally, as if commenting on the weather. “Let’s save time.”
“You know what you should save instead?” Hange stepped forward, hand still in her pocket. “Your breath.”
“Pot calling the kettle black.”
“Usually, people actually want to hear what I have to say, though,” Hange shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Not to mention that at least I’ve got someone to talk to. Is there a soul out there who actually puts up with you, short stuff?”
Zeke whistled in approval, earning a murderous glare from Levi. Despite being one of his superiors, Ackerman clearly didn’t tolerate him and barely acknowledged his authority. He mostly answered to Erwin, his boss even before the merger.
But Zeke didn’t mind. He thrived on it. He teased him, which Hange enthusiastically approved of.
Levi shrugged and brushed past her.
“More than one. Definitely the ones that count, Four-Eyes,” he muttered irritably before moving on.
Hange grimaced. What a nerve. She turned to Zeke, obviously the other target of that jab, but he was laughing.
“Can you guys go a day without being on the verge of a fight?” Miche complained, shooting a scolding look at them. He glanced at Zeke. “And could you, like, not encourage this?”
Zeke draped an arm around Hange’s shoulders innocently.
“And why would I?” he asked mischievously. “The kids are just having fun.”
“You just like sowing chaos, any excuse will do,” Moblit interjected, turning his back on him. “Let’s eat, or I swear I’ll really do that backflip out of the window.”
“What backflip?” Miche asked as they headed out.
*
Hange was already in the meeting room well before the end of lunch. She’d assured Moblit she could handle things on her own and had left him with Zeke and Miche, discussing something she didn’t remember and hadn’t followed from the start.
She set up the USB drive and all the equipment for the presentation, started handing out folders with copies of the proposal to everyone. As she prepared everything, her perception of the outside world was completely drowned out by Left Hand Free by alt-J blasting at an absurd volume in her headphones.
The music helped her focus and really melted away the tension.
She wasn’t the type to get nervous before a meeting, or at work in general, and in fact she couldn’t say she felt anxious. She was more irritated by what she knew awaited her. Levi never let up - there was always something wrong with her proposals.
He noticed the tiniest mistakes, the smallest oversights. He had no manners, was surly, and delivered his critiques with smugness.
And if there really was nothing wrong with the proposal, then they clashed over procedure, over ideas. Designs, materials. Their ways of thinking about architecture were so, so different.
They were too different.
Hange liked to think the difference was enriching, but she had never really gotten anything from Levi worth learning or using. He was a highly respected architect with more experience than her, but all that rigor, those straight lines - it just wasn’t her style.
As she slid the folders into place, Hange improvised a little dance around the table, lost in the music, unconcerned that the meeting room - as with every room in the office - was completely encased in glass.
“I tackle, we tussle, and, oh my days, we’re rolling,” she hummed as she dropped the last folder. “My right hand’s gripped on his Colt single-action army…”
She lifted her face to push her bangs from her eyes and caught sight of Levi’s office.
Oh.
Hange blinked a few times, just to make sure she saw correctly: it had looked like he was looking back. But when she opened her eyes again, he was staring at his monitor as always.
As often happened, he hadn’t gone out for lunch. He brought his meal from home in airtight containers that reminded her of retirees and seasoned meal-prep influencers.
Hands on her hips, the song still blasting, she kept sneaking glances at him. She sighed. She didn’t know why they ended up hating each other so much - creative differences aside, of course. Maybe it was because on the first day of the merger, when she set foot in the new ModulArt office, Hange had stumbled into his arms and spilled coffee all over him - on a white cashmere sweater that looked pretty expensive, too.
Of course, she hadn’t done it on purpose. But things hadn’t gone like in those romantic comedies Zeke loved. That incident hadn’t bonded them, hadn’t brought them closer. Levi had just gotten as pissed as a viper. And it didn’t matter that Hange had offered to take the sweater to the dry cleaners.
Or maybe… maybe it was that time she overloaded the power strip in his office, causing a small short-circuit and making Levi lose the rendering he was working on. Or maybe that time she made project changes at three in the morning and Levi woke up the next day without the final plans. Yeah… there was no shortage of offenses, really.
Still, Hange had genuinely tried to be kind, tried to be his friend. As long as his obvious disdain stayed personal, it was entertaining. But once it touched her work, she realized it would never work.
It was rare for her to make someone hate her so openly; people often thought she was strange, but no one had ever tolerated her so poorly. What a shame - if they could have collaborated, they might have created something interesting… but that ship had long sailed.
At that moment, Levi looked up and caught Hange staring. She froze, and he slowly raised a hand, then flicked her the middle finger.
Hange’s jaw dropped, and she returned the gesture with both hands. Levi raised an eyebrow, then went back to his monitor.
They would never get along.
*
Moblit pressed the button again, and the final slide - a raccoon giving two thumbs up with thanks for your attention! - popped up without a hitch.
Hange exhaled. Zeke smiled at her while Erwin nodded along, hand stroking his chin.
She exchanged a glance with Moblit, who gave her a half-smile. So far, so good - she’d presented everything clearly, and everyone seemed to have grasped the key points and details of the proposal.
“The project you’ve seen is a preliminary proposal for converting the historic building into a museum space. To recap: we’ve preserved the original structure, highlighting existing architectural elements, while reorganizing volumes to create a smoother visitor flow.”
Erwin jotted something in his notebook, nodding continuously.
Hange noticed Levi, as always beside him, inspecting the sheets in the folder she’d handed to each of them. He was scrutinizing the elevation drawings.
Hange furrowed her brow; Moblit gave her a light nudge with his elbow.
“Uh, yes. The goal is to integrate modern functionality while respecting the building’s historical identity - something innovative that complements the idea for the main future installation. We’ve included a permanent exhibition area, space for temporary exhibits, a conference room, and service areas. You can review everything further in the materials I provided.”
Good. Now for the ending. The moment had come.
“If you like the proposal, Miche and I will draft a roadmap to develop the project on a tight schedule for client review, but…” She sighed. Moblit tapped her again. “…I’m open to any technical feedback.”
She finished with a teeth-showing grin so fake it looked plastic. Nanaba rushed to reopen the blinds, letting light flood back in.
Hange counted silently.
Three. Two. One.
“I have some technical feedback.”
Hange closed her eyes. Punctual as always. She deliberately ignored him, letting her gaze sweep over the others.
“Okay, anyone else - besides Levi - have some technical feedback?”
Zeke crossed his arms, squinted, a smirk tugging at his lips. Erwin let out a soft sigh.
“Hange,” he whispered.
“Sheet F-3,” Levi continued as if nothing had happened, flat tone. He tapped his pale index finger repeatedly on the drawing. “The west hall emergency door opens inward. A death trap.”
Hange whipped her head toward Moblit, panic smeared across his face. No way. They’d double-checked the project countless times, lost sleep over it. Every detail had been painstakingly refined.
“I don’t think so. It’s -”
“I guess that’s one way to practice natural selection,” Levi said, pushing the drawing toward her, voice monotone, bored. “Right here. You did this one, didn’t you?”
Hange leaned over the table, taking the sheet she and Moblit had created, reviewed, and printed. She had inserted it into those folders herself multiple times, and there it was. The mistake. That one stupid drawing. An absolutely tiny but important detail, probably overlooked due to fatigue, frustration.
How had it escaped her?
She gripped the paper. Fuck. Impossible. Yet totally possible. She’d messed up. A fixable detail, and it was actually good someone caught it - that’s what meetings were for. But the fact that it was him pointing it out, and like that… it was maddening. She set the sheet back down on the table, irritated.
“All right. Fortunately, it’s a contained error and doesn’t compromise the proposal. It will be corrected. Thank you,” she said, offering a polite smile. She turned to the others. “Anything else?”
Levi pushed another drawing toward her, eyebrows knitted. Was he serious?
“This diagonal cut in the atrium,” he began. He looked up at her, pinning her with those gray eyes. “It’s not functional.”
Hange bristled, irritation creeping through her like an unwelcome wave. She leaned forward with emphasis, almost climbing onto the table.
“That’s not true. Keeping it creates a dynamic double-height space. Light enters from the east and reflects off the blank wall. Don’t you see?” she said sharply, tapping two fingers on the spot in question.
Levi stood as well and leaned in beside her, so close she could smell him. Lavender and laundry soap - a scent that disoriented and confused her. He had never come this close before, and the fact that he was doing it now made her tense. She stepped back, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
“And what do you plan to cover that blank wall with? Raw concrete? That’ll kill the light, not reflect it.”
Hange clenched her fists, exasperated.
“Perforated aluminum panels. The effect is exactly to reflect,” she replied quickly, crossing her arms.
Meanwhile, the others watched the duel unfold with varying reactions. Well, except Zeke and Erwin, who were observing for reasons entirely their own; the rest were mostly squirming.
Levi snorted, jutting his chin - a stubborn gesture Hange had seen countless times.
“I’ll never understand your obsession with these hybrid solutions,” he said, and Hange was too busy taking offense to catch the genuine curiosity in his tone. “It just looks like a damn mess.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s about thinking outside the box you’re stuck in,” she shot back more aggressively than she’d intended. “It’s innovation. Layered! Narrative!”
“Indecisive. Messy. Discordant.”
“You-”
Erwin cleared his throat, and they both went silent immediately. Hange had nearly forgotten she was surrounded by others. They separated, refocusing on the group at the table.
“All right,” Erwin stood, closing notebook and folder. “Let’s restore some order. Everyone try to calm down.”
Hange stepped back, returning beside Moblit, still standing near the large screen.
Levi sat again, composed and bored, as if nothing had happened.
“We’ll pause the meeting for now. The others may leave, but you stay,” he said, eyes fixed on Hange and Moblit. Then, unexpectedly, he turned to his left. “You stay too, Levi.”
Hange hid her hands behind her back and waited. A scolding was probably incoming. Unlike Zeke, Erwin didn’t find these squabbles amusing - he saw them as annoying obstacles; and they’d been going on for two years.
“Hange, your proposal is very interesting. And your collaboration on the models was excellent, Moblit. You work very well together,” Erwin complimented them with a gentle, composed smile. “I know Zeke had already seen the project and had no objections. I suggest you review the minor errors. Otherwise, I find the innovative solutions very compelling, though I’m also a fan of traditional alternatives…”
Hange and Moblit nodded, the boy already gathering the folders.
“…so I’d suggest, to find an appropriate compromise, that Levi assists you in the review and participates in this project’s development.”
Moblit went pale. Hange and Levi turned simultaneously, both shocked but for different reasons.
“What!?” they shouted in unison.
Zeke stood, stretched, then placed a hand on Erwin’s shoulder with a dull click.
“An idea that could actually work,” he said, meeting Hange’s eyes. She shook her head slowly. “But both sides need to be willing to collaborate, Erwin.”
“They will be, won’t they?”
Erwin flashed that gentle smile, hiding the sting of a venomous snake. You had no real choice - you could only respond as he wanted. In this case, a firm, unquestioned yes.
“Do we really have a choice?” Levi murmured coldly. “What a shitty idea.”
“Erwin, I suggest you reconsider,” Hange said. “The chance that Levi and I don’t tear each other apart before finishing the review is extremely low, if not nonexistent. At that point, no one will complete the work because we’ll either be dead or in a detention facility.”
“I agree,” Levi said.
Hange shot him a look.
“Exciting.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Erwin licked his lips and briefly glanced at the folder, as if choosing the right words. Hange knew he was just finding the best way to shut them up and remind them they’d do as he wanted.
In situations like this, Zeke couldn’t do much, nor did he feel inclined to intervene. They were close, yes, but he was also her boss. It was obvious he wouldn’t oppose a project’s potential success; Hange understood that her and Levi’s unwillingness to work together was just a tantrum.
People worked with people they couldn’t stand every single day. It was part of the miserable experience called adulthood.
“I don’t need to think about it, I’ve already stated my position,” Erwin continued, smile still in place. “Despite differences, I’m sure it will be a productive collaboration. Though the merger made us more competitive in the market, we still have a long road ahead. And we all want to work so our future is bright. Right?”
“Right,” Hange said, unenthusiastically.
Levi didn’t answer.
“You may leave. We expect great things from you.”
Great things, Hange could deliver:
Great dissent. Great anger. Great nervous breakdown. Great desire to kick the table.
Instead, she did the only sensible thing: a great retreat.
She turned her back and stormed out of the meeting room, Levi’s eyes drilling into her back.