Do you prefer more humane main characters?
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The wind had quieted by the time Carla stepped inside.
The smell of warmth lingered in the air—old tea, woodsmoke, the faint traces of stew that had long since been eaten. She moved through the house, wiping her hands on her apron, glancing briefly at the sunlight casting shadows across the kitchen floor.
It was almost time for dinner.
Grisha's coat hung by the door—he was home, back from the clinic early for once. That thought alone brought her a sense of calm. He'd likely be reading something in the back room, scribbling notes in that unreadable handwriting of his. She didn't mind. Knowing he was there was enough.
She opened the pantry. Stared. Paused.
Then sighed.
"Eggs and milk… I forgot," she murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead.
She stepped out again, lifting her apron just enough to keep it from dragging through the garden path. Out by the old oak, the boys were still where she'd left them.
Kaelen leaned against the tree, arms folded behind his head again, his eyes half-lidded in rest.
Eren sat beside him, frowning deeply. His arms were crossed in frustration.
"…That's it?" Eren asked, skeptical. "That's the ending?"
"I said it wasn't finished," Kaelen replied, voice perfectly even.
"That's not a story, it's a cliffhanger. You're the worst."
"Better than a piggyback ride," Kaelen muttered.
Carla smiled to herself before stepping forward.
"Boys," she called gently. "I need you to run to the market—eggs and milk. Think you can handle that?"
Kaelen opened his eyes fully, rising with a graceful ease.
"Of course."
Eren grinned, already on his feet. "Finally! I'm dying to get out of the house."
...
The streets were always busiest in the late afternoon.
Sunlight stretched across rooftops, golden and warm, but the cobblestone still held the morning chill. Eren walked beside Kaelen, hands stuffed into his pockets, boots crunching with each step.
"You think we'll see the Scout Corps?" he asked, eyes glinting with hope.
Kaelen shook his head slightly. "They haven't returned from their last mission."
Eren slumped. "Damn. Maybe Hannes is around then?"
Kaelen glanced sideways at him. "Hannes is a horrible influence."
"…But?"
Kaelen sighed. "But I suppose you'll be really sad if we don't visit."
Eren frowned. "Why would that matter?"
Before Kaelen could answer, a calm voice drifted in from behind them.
"You're not supposed to visit the Garrison while grocery shopping."
Mikasa had appeared without a sound. Her hands were tucked into the sleeves of her coat, black hair hanging like a curtain. She walked alongside them now, matching Kaelen's pace.
Eren jumped slightly. "Mikasa! Don't sneak up on people!"
Kaelen gave a small shrug. "She has a point."
Eren rolled his eyes. "You said we could go."
"You'd be sad if we didn't."
Eren blinked. "Again… why does that matter?"
Mikasa remained quiet. Then, with the barest hint of movement, she nodded.
Eren stared at her. "You're agreeing with him?! What happened to choosing sides?"
Kaelen tilted his head. "Women are complicated. Don't waste energy trying to understand."
Mikasa gave a rare, amused exhale. Eren grumbled but said nothing more.
The trio turned a corner and spotted them near the tavern—half a dozen Garrison members slouched outside the building, their coats unbuttoned, laughter spilling into the street. One of them leaned against a barrel, wine bottle in hand. Another had his boots off and was airing out his socks.
Kaelen's gaze swept over the scene.
Not the Scout Corps he wanted to see. Not soldiers with answers. Not warriors with meaning. Just men in uniforms, drunk on routine.
He kept walking.
"HANNES!" Eren shouted, waving.
A blonde man with short, trimmed hair, a flushed face from intoxication and a light mustache. The man turned, eyes bleary. He blinked—then stumbled upright with a grin.
"Well if it isn't the Yeager kids," he called. "Plus the quiet one."
Kaelen gave a small bow. "Good afternoon."
Mikasa nodded, arms crossed. Her face was neutral, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of distaste.
Eren ran forward, launching into a stream of questions.
"Did the Scouts come back? Are they fighting more Titans? Did you hear about the new formations? I heard they're going beyond Wall Maria next time—"
"Whoa, slow down, kid." Hannes laughed, brushing a hand through his scruffy hair. "You're way too eager for bad news."
Kaelen stood silently, hands in his coat pockets, eyes watching everything.
Eren frowned. "I'm not eager. I just want to help. I want to fight. I want to know what's out there."
Hannes took a swig from his bottle, then knelt beside him.
"Look, Eren. You're a good kid. Smart. Brave. But wanting to see the world out there doesn't mean you have to die doing it."
Kaelen felt a hand pat his shoulder.
Hannes.
Warm. Uninvited.
Every instinct screamed to pull away. To reject it. To remind the man that familiarity didn't make him welcome.
Instead, Kaelen held still.
Hannes turned to him. "Right? Talk some sense into him. You're the calm one."
Kaelen stared into the older man's face, then looked down at Eren.
"…Eren should cherish his life. It's the only one he has."
The words were smooth. Measured.
Mikasa stepped forward, speaking for the first time.
"You should stay. You have people here. That matters."
Eren looked between them—Kaelen's still gaze, Mikasa's quiet plea—and exhaled hard.
"None of you understand."
A moment of silence.
Then, softer:
"How's the situation?" Eren asked.
Hannes scratched his head. "Same as always. Danger out there. Politics in here. And the Scouts?"
He sighed.
"They'll be back in three days. Maybe less. But probably more than half will be missing when they do."
The laughter from the Garrison echoed behind them.
Kaelen didn't laugh.
He simply looked up at the sky.
And wondered how much longer it would stay quiet.
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[Auther: Yo! I thought putting a quote at the end of each chapter would be cool, but then I realized...I'm far too lazy.]