The protest wasn't supposed to happen that day.
It was supposed to be a planning meeting—maybe some banners, maybe Armin's half-finished PowerPoint with stats on gentrification and rezoning laws.
But Eren showed up with a black hoodie, a bandana tucked in his back pocket, and a fire in his eyes that made everything else feel like background noise.
"You brought tear gas goggles," Armin said, looking at the bag Eren dropped on the table.
Eren didn't smile.
"We're not just here to talk anymore."
They were in an abandoned classroom on the second floor of an old community building. Graffiti on the walls. Chairs missing legs. Connie and Sasha were passing out flyers with more creases than design sense.
Jean was pacing. Jean always paced.
"This is a bad idea," he snapped. "We're not ready. We don't even have media coverage—"
"Because no one listens until something breaks," Eren cut in.
"And you think you're the one to break it?"
"I'm the only one who'll do it."
Jean glared. "You just want to make noise."
"No," Eren said, stepping forward, "I want them to feel it."
Mikasa stood near the window, arms crossed. She hadn't said much. Not since yesterday. Not since the scarf conversation, not since the walk home that felt like the start of something that might matter.
But now… this version of Eren?
This version terrified her.
And yet, she couldn't look away.
"Are you trying to get arrested?" Jean asked.
Eren's reply was soft. Too soft.
"If that's the cost, then yeah."
Armin slammed his notebook shut. "Stop talking like this is some noble death mission."
"It's not," Eren said. "It's a message. Smoke signals to the ones above."
He pulled out a lighter. Clicked it once. Flame.
"No more silence."
Later that day, Mikasa stood beside him in the crowd. Hundreds of students. A few faculty members. Locals. Kids with signs. Adults with cameras.
It was already chaotic.
Jean was off arguing with a police officer.
Sasha handed out masks from a backpack like she was giving away lunch boxes.
Historia showed up in a designer coat and sunglasses. Paparazzi caught her, but she didn't flinch.
Ymir stood behind her like a shadow with piercings, holding a brick in one hand and a sarcastic sign in the other.
And Eren?
He was climbing the stairs of the demolished lot's observation tower.
High above everyone.
Eyes wild.
Heart louder than the sirens beginning to scream in the distance.
"Eren," Mikasa said through clenched teeth, grabbing his arm at the base of the stairs. "Don't."
"You said you wanted me to stop running," he said.
"This isn't what I meant."
He paused. Looked at her.
And then, softly, "But it's what I meant."
He climbed.
Connie looked up, muttering, "Oh hell. He's gonna do something stupid."
Jean groaned, "He always does."
Mikasa didn't move.
Eren reached the top and raised the flare gun.
It cracked open the sky like a gunshot, fire blooming above the city like a warning.
Everyone looked.
The cops. The crowd. The journalists just arriving.
That smoke?
It wasn't just a protest.
It was a declaration.
Back on the ground, Armin whispered, "He's gonna get expelled."
Jean muttered, "Expelled? Try detained."
Historia was already pulling Ymir back by the collar, muttering something about optics.
But Mikasa?
She just stared at the sky.
Red smoke, drifting up like blood turned to mist.
She wasn't scared of the protest.
She was scared of what Eren was becoming.
That night, her phone buzzed.
Eren: They're probably gonna suspend me. You mad?
She didn't reply right away.
She stared at the scarf, now folded on her desk.
The same one he touched the day before.
The same one that felt like a lifeline.
Mikasa: I'm not mad. I'm scared.
Eren: Of me?
She paused.
Mikasa: Of losing you.
Eren: Then don't.
Her heart clenched. Then the screen lit again.
Eren: I'm building something here, Mikasa. Not just noise. Not just fire. Something real. I want you with me.
Mikasa: I'm already here.
And far away, in a city that never really slept, the red smoke curled higher—
drifting between windows,
through classrooms,
across camera lenses—
and into hearts that were ready to believe in something again.