They walked up to Carla.
"Auntie, you should stay here," Zeke said gently. "We'll go get you some food."
"Well…" Armin hesitated awkwardly. "The relief food is given out per person. The government's afraid people will try to claim extras, so each person has to go in person. They don't let you collect for others."
Zeke blinked. "…So even the injured have to line up?"
With a faint smile, Carla leaned on her crutch and stood carefully. "It's alright. I'll go. It's a good chance to test the crutch you made me, Zeke."
Seeing her strong, steady smile, Zeke felt a pang of relief and respect. "Alright then. Let's go."
As they stepped out of the inn, laughter followed them like a stench.
"Yo, look! The great 'hero' is going to get relief food! Hahaha, I've never seen a hero this broke before!"
"Look at those pathetic refugees from Shiganshina!"
Mocking voices filled the air.
Standing by the doorway, Annie had been quietly watching the street. She'd gone out for fresh air, but hearing those words froze her in place. Each sneer felt like a knife scraping the inside of her chest. The screams, the blood, the slaughter of that night still burned in her mind. And now… laughter.
She whispered coldly, almost to herself, "I really envy the people here… born knowing nothing."
"Hmm?" Armin turned at the sound—
—and nearly jumped out of his skin.
Bertolt was staring at him with that unreadable, shadowed glare.
"Who are you looking at?" Bertolt said flatly.
"I—I wasn't looking at anyone!" Armin's voice cracked. His eyes watered. "This is the first time we've met, right? Why are you doing this to me??"
Ignoring the exchange, Annie walked faster, catching up to Zeke. Her voice dropped low. "Brother, is it really okay to leave Reiner alone in the inn?"
"It's fine," Zeke said calmly. "The people here are ignorant. Maybe he'll… educate them."
Annie frowned. She knew exactly what he meant—and didn't like it. "But…"
"Relax," Zeke said quietly. "Since he healed the wound in his chest but left the one on his arm, he doesn't want anyone to know his secret."
When Fran and Isabel had gone to find a doctor, they'd panicked at the sight of the gaping wound over Reiner's heart—only to see faint white steam rising from it. The flesh was knitting itself together.
The heart was healing first.
It was his body's instinctive choice—to keep the heart alive.
He still wanted to live.
He still wanted to understand the truth of the world.
Only then had Zeke allowed the doctor in to close his arm wound.
Poor Reiner, Zeke thought. He's hurt twice—once in body, once in soul.
But Reiner hadn't woken since. The fact that his body had chosen to heal the heart first was telling. Whatever burden lay there, it was heavier than any physical pain.
"What kind of heart injury?" little Eren piped up, eyes wide.
Zeke smiled faintly. "It means an injury of the mind. He's not hurt just on the outside—he's wounded inside. When he wakes, that's the wound he'll need to heal most."
Eren frowned, trying to understand. "Oh…"
Carla sighed softly. "That poor child… his heart must ache terribly." She glanced down at her own injured foot and felt a strange kinship.
Zeke and Annie exchanged weary glances and rolled their eyes. "...Right. Pitiful."
Then, a shout from the street ahead cut through the murmuring crowd.
"Survey Corps!"
The soldiers stiffened in surprise.
"Our squad's back?" Isabel gasped, her face lighting up. "They're back! Captain Erwin's back! We can finally eat!"
She dashed toward the intersection like a child chasing a festival parade.
Zeke frowned slightly. Something in the crowd's tone wasn't right. Instead of cheering, there were murmurs—whispers laced with bitterness and contempt. The air felt too familiar. It was the same atmosphere that had hung over Shiganshina the night before disaster.
"Did… did they lose again?" he muttered.
"Will Captain Erwin treat us to a meal now?" Eren asked innocently, eyes shining.
"Maybe," Zeke said with a wry smile. Watching Isabel sprint ahead, he thought she seemed far too practiced at asking her commander for food.
Because of Carla's injury, they moved slowly, reaching the intersection just as the returning Survey Corps appeared.
The sight froze them all.
The soldiers marched in silence, heads bowed. Their numbers—half of what they had been. Not a single one unscathed. The wagons that once carried supplies were now loaded with body bags, stacked neatly in a grim pyramid.
Half of the wagons carried survivors—civilians they had rescued from the front.
It was a cruel irony: the civilians were whole, but the soldiers who had saved them limped and bled. More civilians had survived than soldiers.
And yet the people lining the streets didn't see heroes. They saw failures.
"You only saved this many? There were more refugees on the ships this morning!"
"Ugh, now they're all crowding our streets—can't even move through town anymore!"
"The Survey Corps is useless! I thought they were retaking Shiganshina, but they come back half-dead again!"
"This time even fewer than last time…"
Their words stung worse than any blade.
Carla's breath caught. She saw Keith Shadis, walking at the front of the column—bleeding. His arm and forehead were bandaged, his steps heavy.
Her heart twisted in shock.
"Keith…" she whispered.
Then her gaze dropped to Eren, who was trying to slip through the crowd, his small face glowing with admiration for the soldiers who stumbled by, ragged but unbroken.
Carla's stomach turned cold. She lunged forward, grabbed his arm, and held him tight.
"Eren, don't join the Survey Corps. Do you hear me?"
Her voice trembled—not with anger, but with a mother's fear.
The cheers, the laughter, the ridicule, the blood. All of it blurred together as the wind carried the scent of smoke from the direction of the wall.
Zeke glanced at her and then at the silent, wounded column of soldiers.
The Survey Corps had returned.
But victory still felt a long, long way off.