Zen didn't move from his spot, but he could feel Mikasa's gaze on him—sharp, unwavering. Unlike before, there was no hostility in her eyes. Instead, there was curiosity.
"You killed them," she finally said. It wasn't a question, just a fact.
Zen didn't react immediately.
She stepped closer. "How?"
He glanced at her but didn't answer.
Mikasa didn't let up. "It wasn't ODM gear. It wasn't explosives. There were no cuts, no wounds. They just… dropped dead."
Zen exhaled slowly, resting his arm on his knee. "Does it matter?"
Mikasa frowned slightly, studying him. "It does."
She wasn't going to stop asking. He could tell.
Zen met her gaze briefly before looking away. "Figure it out yourself."
Mikasa didn't press further, but she also didn't leave. Instead, she simply sat down nearby, as if she had already decided she wasn't going anywhere.
The Shinigami chuckled above them. "Looks like you've got yourself a shadow."
Zen ignored it. He knew Mikasa wouldn't stop until she had an answer, but he wasn't going to give her one.
Minutes passed in silence. The battlefield had quieted, but the distant sounds of soldiers regrouping and tending to the wounded lingered in the air.
Mikasa finally spoke again. "You're not normal."
She tilted her head slightly. "You're not a soldier. You don't have ODM gear. Yet you killed multiple Titans without lifting a finger."
Zen said nothing.
A weak cough broke the silence.
Zen turned his head slightly, catching sight of Carla Jaeger struggling to sit up. The medics had stopped fussing over her now that her condition was stable, but exhaustion was evident in her pale face.
She blinked, her gaze scanning the battlefield, searching. Hoping.
"Grisha…" she murmured, almost to herself. "Where is he?"
No one answered.
Her breath hitched as she turned to Mikasa, then to Zen. "Eren—where's Eren?"
Mikasa's eyes softened slightly. "He's safe. He went with the others."
Relief flickered across Carla's face for only a second before she looked toward the ruins of her home, her expression tightening.
"...And Grisha?"
Zen remained silent. He had no answer for her.
Carla swallowed hard. She was no fool. If Grisha were here, he would have come for her by now.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the fabric of her dress, her knuckles turning white. Then, slowly, her gaze shifted toward Zen.
He could see it in her eyes—the hesitation, the calculation. The silent understanding of her situation.
Zen exhaled quietly. He knew what she was thinking.
A woman without a husband in a world like this... It wasn't just about grief. It was about survival. About Eren's survival.
And right now, Zen was the only man nearby who wasn't broken, bleeding, or dead.
Carla hesitated before speaking. "You… You're strong, aren't you?"
Zen met her gaze but said nothing.
"You killed them." Her voice was quieter now, almost cautious. "You can protect people."
Zen tilted his head slightly. "And?"
Carla looked away briefly, her fingers curling against her lap. She took a slow breath before speaking again. "...Are you leaving?"
Zen narrowed his eyes.
It wasn't a direct request. Not yet. But the implication was clear.
She was trying to gauge him. To see if he was someone who could be relied on—or used.
Mikasa watched the exchange in silence, her sharp eyes flickering between them.
The Shinigami chuckled. "How interesting," it mused. "A widow already looking for her next pillar of support. Humans really don't waste time, do they?"
Zen ignored it, keeping his gaze on Carla.
"...I haven't decided," he finally said.
Carla pressed her lips together, nodding slightly as if she had expected that answer.
But she didn't look away.
Carla remained silent for a long moment, her thoughts a storm behind her weary eyes. The weight of everything—her home reduced to rubble, her husband likely gone, her son somewhere out there—pressed down on her shoulders like an iron chain. Survival in a world like this wasn't just about endurance. It was about securing what little you had left.
Her gaze flickered toward Mikasa, the girl sitting quietly, watching the conversation with unreadable eyes. Carla had known her for years, ever since they took her in. Strong. Quiet.
Capable beyond her years. But no matter how skilled she was, she was still just a child—one with no real protection now that the world had shattered around them.
And then there was Zen. A mystery. A man who killed Titans without blades, without weapons, without effort. He was something different. Something dangerous. But he was also still standing, unharmed, untouched by the chaos around them.
A survivor.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress.
"She needs someone," Carla finally said, her voice low, almost hesitant.
Zen's gaze shifted to her, unreadable as ever. "What?"
Carla exhaled, steadying herself. "Mikasa. She won't admit it, but she needs someone strong to watch over her. To make sure she doesn't end up alone."
Mikasa's expression barely changed, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Annoyance? Surprise?
Zen glanced at the girl, then back at Carla. "And you think that's me?"
"You're here," Carla said simply. "And you're strong."
Zen scoffed lightly. "That's not much of a reason."
Carla looked at him carefully. "Isn't it? In times like these, strength is everything." She hesitated, then added, "I just want to know that when I'm not around, someone will be."
Mikasa's voice finally cut through the moment. "I don't need anyone to look after me."
Carla turned toward her. "That's not true. And you know it."
For a moment, there was only silence. The girl's hands curled slightly against her lap, but she didn't argue.
Zen sighed, glancing between them. He wasn't sure what Carla expected from him—some kind of promise? A guarantee? He wasn't the kind of person to tie himself down, especially not to someone else's expectations.
Still, he didn't outright refuse her.
And Mikasa… she will be really a good bodyguard.
"...We'll see," was all he said.
Carla studied him for a moment longer, then simply nodded. It wasn't agreement, but it wasn't rejection either.