He had imagined countless reunion scenes, but never once did he think his father would look at him with suspicion — as if he were an enemy.
At that moment, Zeke Yeager couldn't hold it in anymore; he wanted to laugh and cry all at once. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice sharp with hurt. "Is this how you treat someone who protected your wife and your little son?"
Why had he come here? What was he doing?
Was it really because, on the Paths, when he had relived his father's memories, Grisha Yeager had hugged him and whispered "I love you"?
Had that one moment of tenderness made him foolish enough to rush here like this?
And yet, standing here now, all he could feel was rejection — heavy, suffocating rejection.
Everything he had done was denied in an instant.
His mother's death, his sacrifices, his choices — all rendered meaningless.
"Zeke?" Grisha's voice trembled. His confusion was obvious. He knew Zeke had become a Marleyan Warrior, a weapon of the enemy. His sudden appearance here could only mean disaster. Yet his eyes saw not an enemy soldier but a broken, wounded son.
Was he wrong about everything?
"Dad," little Eren Yeager tugged at his sleeve, pointing toward Zeke. "He's the one who killed the Titan. He protected us."
"The Titan?" Grisha turned in disbelief, following Eren's finger. When he saw what his son pointed at, his face went white.
"Grisha…"
"See?" Zeke's voice cracked. "No matter what I become, I still found you. Finally, I see you."
On that day, witnesses said the once-monstrous grin of the Smiling Titan softened. Her eyes closed gently, and she vanished into a swirl of white steam.
"No!" Grisha lurched forward, reaching for her fading figure. "Dina!" His fingers grasped only mist. The Survey Corps members, who had risked so much transporting her body, watched as the white tarp of the cart collapsed with a hollow thud.
Zeke called after him, voice heavy with grief.
Grisha turned, his face pale and furious. "You killed her?"
"Yes," Zeke said quietly. His heart was frozen. "I killed her."
"How could you kill her?" Grisha's voice trembled, a mixture of rage and despair. "Don't you know she was—"
"I know," Zeke interrupted sharply, stopping him from revealing the unthinkable truth aloud.
"Because I know, I had to do it."
"You…" Grisha's eyes widened. The child he once held in his arms had become a stranger.
"You knew it was her, and you still killed her."
"Yes. I had to." Zeke's voice shook but he pressed on, desperate to make him understand. "If I hadn't, your wife and son would be dead. Don't you see? I had no choice!"
"How could you—"
"How else can I change the future?" Zeke's composure cracked. "Only through her death can the future shift! Without her, Eren will never awaken the Founding Titan's power. If those of royal blood are gone, the Coordinates will vanish forever — and this endless cycle will finally end!"
Grisha's face contorted with fury. "How could you kill her!"
Zeke snapped, shouting back, "Then tell me what I should've done! Tell me, Dina or Carla — who would you choose?"
The words struck like thunder.
Grisha froze. His mind went blank.
Zeke's shout echoed in his skull: Dina and Carla, who do you choose?
He turned toward Carla Yeager and the two children standing behind her. His eyes softened — then clouded with torment.
No one had ever seen Dr. Yeager like this.
The calm, kind doctor who spoke gently to every patient now looked like a man possessed.
"Grisha?" Carla whispered, clutching Eren protectively. The boy whimpered in her arms. She stroked his hair, but her eyes were full of fear.
The worry on his wife's face, the innocence of his young son — they twisted the knife deeper.
Behind them, the empty space where Dina had vanished seemed to laugh at him.
No matter what I become, I will find you.
Finally, I see you…
"Dina and Carla… who do I choose?" Grisha whispered. His voice trembled, then grew louder, more desperate. "Yes… who should I choose? Who should I choose?"
He clutched his head, spiraling into madness. "Who should I choose?!"
"Grisha!" Zeke stepped forward, panic flashing through him. "Dad, stop it!"
But Grisha only muttered, his voice thick and broken. "Who should I choose… who should I choose…"
"Dad!" Zeke shouted, grabbing his shoulders. "Please!"
Still, Grisha didn't answer. He trembled, eyes glazed, trapped inside his own storm of guilt.
Zeke's voice cracked. "Please be normal! We can't have another insane person in this family!"
The words tumbled out before he realized how much they sounded like his grandmother's voice.
"Please, not another one. Not another broken Yeager."
If his father lost his mind now… what would happen? Who would be left to stop this cycle of madness?
Zeke's grip tightened on Grisha's coat. "Father!"
Finally, Grisha blinked. His eyes regained focus for the first time. "Zeke…?" he murmured, as though waking from a nightmare.
Zeke exhaled shakily. "Yeah. It's me."
For a fleeting instant, the distance between father and son seemed to close. Both stood trembling in the quiet aftermath — two broken men, bound by love and tragedy, unable to undo the choices that had destroyed them.
...
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