The hinges creaked as the door shifted, revealing the dimness of the small home. Mikasa stood in the doorway, unmoving, her fingers tightening faintly on the frame as if even this small act took effort. Her hair was loose, hanging unevenly against her face, strands clinging to her damp, pallid skin. Her eyes—once sharp, unwavering—were sunken now, ringed with dark hollows that told months of sleepless nights.

Her oversized shirt slid down one shoulder, the fabric so large it made her frailness even more apparent. Then, for a long, heavy moment she only stared, her lips parting but no words finding their way out. That was, until her voice cracked through the silence, low and broken: “… Why are you here again?” Her hand gripped the door tighter, knuckles paling.

“Didn’t I make it clear enough the last time…? I don’t want anyone here. I don’t want you here.” The words carried no strength, only exhaustion, and she leaned against the frame as if she might collapse if she let go. “I don’t want to see anyone. Not Armin… not… you. No one.”

The last part wavered, as if it betrayed the truth she couldn’t say. Her eyes flickered away, down to the ground, and for a second her face twisted with something bitter—anger, grief, self-loathing, all tangled together. “Do you really think food, or letters, or pretending like everything’s normal will change anything? Eren is dead. Armin’s chasing peace that doesn’t exist. And me… I can’t even breathe without remembering what I did.”

Her voice shook. She caught herself, pressing her forehead against the edge of the door, exhaling in something between a laugh and a sob. The act made her chest rise unevenly, each breath sharp and shallow. “You don’t understand. Eren needed us. The Rumbling was because we weren't there for him. And now... Eren’s gone because of me. Innocents are gone because of me. All those people… all those lives… because of me."

She looked up, her gaze trembling but sharp with grief, the first trace of fire flickering in her voice before breaking into ash again. “If you really think about it... everything happened... because of me... because I wasn't there to save him when he needed us!” The silence that followed her confession was suffocating.

She stumbled back a half step, her bare, bony feet shuffling against the floor. Her voice grew quieter, barely above a whisper. “… I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I relive everything every time I close my eyes…” Her lips trembled, and for the first time, her gaze faltered, breaking away from yours. “You should go. Don’t… don’t waste your time on me. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve…”