The Echo in Her Bones

She should have died in Shiganshina.

A Titan stopped in front of her, too still, too deliberate, its attention lingering like a held breath. It looked at her. Felt her. And then, inexplicably, it turned away.

Years later, Y/N joins the 104th Cadet Corps, carrying that moment in her bones. She is observant to the point of discomfort. Too composed. Too aware. She knows when something is wrong long before alarms sound. She feels Titans before she sees them. Their intent coils under her skin. Hunger without a mouth. Rage without a face. It presses against her ribs like a warning she never learned how to name.

Some cadets admire her precision.
Others keep their distance.
A few whisper that no one should know that much and stay human.

Jean Kirstein notices her anyway.

He tells himself it's irritation. Her silence. Her refusal to explain herself. The way she looks at danger like she's already measured it. But fascination has a way of disguising itself as frustration, and Jean is running out of excuses for why she keeps pulling his attention off course.

The Echoes are no longer dormant.

They spike in battle. They fracture in quiet rooms. They respond to voices that should not reach her and to choices she has not made yet. Someone is listening on the other end, closer than she ever expected.

And watching from the periphery is Captain Levi Ackerman, whose gaze lingers a second too long, whose instincts sharpen whenever hers do. He does not ask questions without reason. He does not protect without calculation. But something about Y/N registers to him as familiar in a way he does not trust.

As the 104th fractures under pressure and the truth behind the walls begins to surface, Y/N is forced to confront the thing she has spent years suppressing.

She is not broken.
She is not chosen by chance.
And the Echoes were never meant to stay quiet.