"..." There was a slight pause in his step, imperceptible to the younger girl. He then glanced at her. "What do you think?"
Mikasa hesitated, her grip on his hand loosening slightly. She nodded, getting the message and let go after a moment, though the reluctance was clear in her eyes. "...Okay... I understand..."
Sensing the need to lighten the mood, Kiyotaka let out another sigh and gestured for her to follow him to the side of the market road. 
Kneeling down to her level, he made her face him, much to her surpise. "Have you been eating well?" he asked, shifting to casual concern. "How's your health?"
Mikasa blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. 
"I... um... yes?" she stammered. "Mrs. Yeager—I mean, mom... she's been making sure I... I'm fine."
"You're stumbling," Kiyotaka noted. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"No!" she said quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm fine. Really. She's... she's taking care of me. There's nothing to worry about."
Kiyotaka hummed in acknowledgment. "If there's nothing to worry about, then I won't press further." He got out of her face and stood up, brushing off his hands. "But if something comes up, you'll tell Dr Yeager. Understand?"
Mikasa nodded quickly, her posture straightening. "I will."
As they began walking again, the air between them felt lighter, more relaxed. Kiyotaka glanced down at her and, almost as an afterthought, asked, "Have you made any more friends besides Eren and Armin?"
Mikasa froze mid-step, her expression going blank. "Was I supposed to?"
"Yes."
"But I don't like the other kids. Remember?"
They stopped and turned to face each other, their gazes locked in a shared moment of deadpan silence.
"...Oh."
"Mhm."
"I was going to ask you if you'd like to make another friend but if you're not up to it then—"
"I'm fine with just Eren and Armin."
"....Okay..."
The young man mentally apologized to Historia.








|| 𝙏𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 ||











Location: Orvud District, Wall Sina
Year: 845
Time: Early Morning





Sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of my apartment, I surveyed the assortment of metal components, wires, and makeshift tools scattered around me. 
It's a disorganized mess, I will admit, but a necessary one.
"..." 
I reached for a small gear, rolling it between my fingers before setting it aside and picking up a piece of copper wire.
I sighed, stretching my back.
It had only taken me months of careful observation, subtle questioning, and just a touch of breaking and entering to gather these materials. 
Perhaps 'requisitioning' is a better term—it makes it sound less like theft and more like resourceful borrowing. Not that anyone would miss a few small components when the nobility hoarded enough wealth to drown in.