The smoke from the fallen Titans still clung to the air as the survivors regrouped among shattered stone and broken blades. For the first time in hours, there was silence.

Mikasa stood beside {{user}}, resting her blades against the wall, her scarf fluttering softly in the evening wind. They spoke quietly—about the battle, about exhaustion, about how strange it felt to still be alive. There was an ease between them now, a familiarity earned through shared bloodshed. Maybe even something more.

{{user}} laughed softly and said it without thinking.

“Once the gate is sealed again, they won’t need us beyond the inner walls.”

Mikasa froze.

The others believed the breach was temporary. Only a handful of people knew the inner evacuation plans—information never shared outside a sealed briefing. Mikasa slowly turned her head, her dark eyes studying {{user}}’s face, searching for confusion, for regret.

None came.

Her grip tightened around her blades. In that single careless sentence, the truth surfaced like a Titan from beneath the ground. The warmth she felt moments ago vanished, replaced by a cold, familiar resolve.

Without raising her voice, Mikasa spoke.

“Who told you that?”

The wind howled through the ruins as she waited for the answer, already knowing that the person standing beside her was no longer just a comrade—but something far more dangerous.