Zeke froze, caught off guard by Annie's question. Of all people in his warrior unit, he never expected it from her.
Reiner might ask. Bertolt might ask. But Annie?
Everyone knew her story—or thought they did. She had grown up under the strict, often cruel hand of her adoptive father. The day before she was chosen as a Warrior candidate, she had lashed out so violently that she broke his leg. To anyone who heard that tale, Annie Leonhart seemed like the last person who would long for "home."
And yet, under the glow of the candlelight, her pale face was touched with sadness that couldn't be faked. Annie wasn't the type to pretend, and her eyes held no lies.
Maybe the reports from Marley's intelligence division hadn't captured everything. Even the most powerful spy networks had blind spots—small, quiet truths hidden between people that no investigation could fully uncover.
Zeke found himself silently relieved. If nothing else, he was glad Annie's father hadn't been erased entirely in the endless paperwork and cold reports of Irena's files.
"Yes," Zeke answered softly, with unusual sincerity. "I'll make sure you see your father again."
Only… the reunion Annie imagined and the reunion he envisioned were not the same. To her, it was a daughter returning to her father's arms.
To him, it would be a reunion under his control—when Eldians would no longer be shackled by Marley, but bound to the cause he carried.
Annie's lips curved in a faint, awkward smile. "…Really."
"What's wrong?" Zeke asked, lowering his axe for a moment. He was unused to her hesitation.
"Are you homesick?"
"…Mm."
That was all she gave him.
Zeke chuckled, shaking his head.
"Of all the three of you, I thought you'd be the last to miss home."
"Who said that?" Annie muttered, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She pulled the collar up to her nose, imitating Mikasa's way of hiding her expression. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "…I think about it sometimes."
Zeke grinned at the childish display. "You really are still a kid." He went back to chopping wood, the thud of the axe steady in the night.
"Don't worry too much. Once we obtain the power of the Founding Titan, we'll be able to go back."
"Captain," Annie hesitated, her voice quieter now, "don't you miss your family? I mean… your grandparents."
"Yes."
But the word came too easily, too flat. Annie's gaze narrowed, suspicion clear in her eyes.
Zeke smirked at her disbelief.
"You can't picture it, can you? Kids your age cry for their parents when the sun goes down. But by the time you reach my age—no, even a little younger—you won't want to see them at all. You'll want to get as far away as possible."
Another log split cleanly under his axe. He paused, leaning on the handle, and allowed himself a bitter smile
"Actually, it might be the other way around. My grandparents probably don't want to see me. My grandfather's health—his heart especially—is worse every time he looks at me."
"Why?" Annie asked, startled.
"Because," Zeke replied, his voice light but edged with something darker, "their only son was exiled because of me."
Annie frowned. "But that was undercover work, wasn't it?"
"Yes. But my grandparents don't know that." He gave a weary shrug. "No one knows."
Her next question was sharp, cutting closer to his heart. "You came to the island to bring your father back. But… will he really go with you?He has a new family here. A new wife. A new son. Will he leave them for you?"
Zeke's hand trembled slightly on the axe handle. He masked it with a dry laugh. "…Maybe that's just my fantasy."
"What fantasy?"
"A family reunion."
The words sounded ridiculous even as they left his mouth. He chuckled, as if mocking himself. A "reunion"? Grisha's family was no longer his family.
Carla and Eren had taken that place. What could he reclaim now?
Annie tilted her head, eyes cool and assessing. "You could force them. With the four of us, storming out of the Walls wouldn't be difficult."
Zeke considered it.
She wasn't wrong.
The military inside the Walls still didn't understand the Titans, let alone the existence of intelligent shifters. If they fought seriously, the Survey Corps would stand no chance.
But he only smiled. "I've thought about it. But the larger plan comes first. The Founding Titan matters more than anything. Once we secure it… then we can talk about everything else. For now, go shower and get some rest. We're leaving before dawn."
"You're not waiting for the Survey Corps to escort us?" Annie pressed.
"They'll want to take us deeper inside—to Wall Sina, to the royal city." Zeke's tone hardened. "But the Founding Titan isn't in the capital. Annie…" He met her eyes, steady and resolute. "Once I have the Founding Titan, I'll tell you everything. The truth about the world. All of it. And I swear—you will see your father again."
The candlelight flickered across Annie's pale face. Her blue eyes shimmered, filled with something she couldn't voice. At last, she lowered her gaze, unfastened her hair, and turned toward the bath.
As she passed him, she whispered so softly it was almost lost in the wind.
"…Aunt Carla's cooking was delicious."
Zeke let out a quiet laugh.
"I think so too."
It had been a long, long time since he had tasted a meal that carried the warmth of home. Perhaps these children felt the same. Once they became warriors, "family" became something distant, fragile, almost forgotten.
Annie said nothing more. She slipped into the shadows of the hallway, her steps quick. Only when she closed the door behind her did she allow the tears to fall—two silent streaks down her cheeks.
That night, Shiganshina rested under a rare mood of joy. The Survey Corps had returned victorious, their report spreading like wildfire through the district:
For the first time in history, humanity had defeated the Titans.
It was a miracle, and people clung to it desperately.
In every home, families sat together, sharing stories, sharing hope. Smiles bloomed where fear had lived for too long.
Children fell asleep dreaming of freedom, of forests without walls, of skies that stretched endlessly.
For a moment, humanity believed they had wings.
But in the dead of night, those dreams shattered.
The ground trembled—not an earthquake, but something heavier, hungrier. Houses splintered under an enormous footfall. A Titan bent low, its grotesque face filling the window, its hand tearing through wooden beams to pluck screaming humans from their beds.
People awoke to terror.
One moment, they were dreaming of freedom. Next, they were in a nightmare of teeth and blood.
The fear they thought forgotten surged back stronger than ever—
the ancient fear of being prey.