The cabin buzzed with muted activity as everyone settled into their routines. Morning light streamed through the windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. Kira was propped up on a pile of blankets, her complexion better than it had been in days. She still moved slowly, her body clearly worn down, but the color in her cheeks and the faint sass returning to her voice were good signs.
Eren hovered close by, refusing to leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time. He adjusted the blanket over her lap for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.
"Eren," Kira muttered, her voice raspier than usual but laced with faint humor, "if you tuck me in any tighter, I'm going to suffocate. I already can't feel my legs."
"You almost died," he replied flatly, folding his arms. "You don't get a say in this."
She shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual sharpness. "Yeah, and I'm still here. Thanks to you, nursemaid extraordinaire."
Across the room, Sasha smirked as she sliced into a loaf of bread. "You two are like an old married couple," she teased.
"Shut up, Sasha," Eren and Kira said in unison, their voices overlapping.
Sasha barked out a laugh, tossing a piece of bread into her mouth. Jean, leaning against the counter with a cup of water, rolled his eyes.
"Nice to see her sense of humor's intact," Jean quipped, taking a sip. "Too bad the rest of her looks like roadkill."
"Jean!" Mikasa snapped, giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs.
"What?" he protested, rubbing his side. "I'm just saying—she's alive, but she still looks like she took a beating."
Kira chuckled faintly, though the motion made her wince. "Jean's got a point. I feel like I've been run over by a titan."
Eren frowned, immediately adjusting the way she was propped up. "Don't push yourself. You're supposed to be resting."
Kira opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by Malcolm, who walked in with Armin, carrying a small pouch of medical supplies.
"Good news," Malcolm said, setting the pouch on the table. "Found some basic painkillers and antibiotics. Should help take the edge off."
"Finally," Eren muttered, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
Malcolm crouched beside Kira, his expression softening. "How're you holding up, kid?"
"Peachy," she replied, her voice dry.
He smiled faintly, brushing a hand over her head. "Stubborn as ever. You'll be fine."
As the group settled back into their routines, something gnawed at the edge of Eren's mind. Kira's recovery was progressing well—almost too well. Just two days ago, she'd been on the brink of death, yet now she was sitting up, cracking jokes, and eating.
"You good?" Mikasa's voice broke through his thoughts.
Eren glanced up, realizing he'd been staring at Kira. "Yeah," he said quickly, though his brow furrowed. "Just... thinking."
"Don't hurt yourself," Jean muttered, earning a glare from Eren.
Mikasa's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she walked away, sensing his need for space.
By late afternoon, the group had gathered near the fireplace, discussing their next move. The tension in the room was palpable as they debated routes and supplies, but Eren's focus kept drifting back to Kira.
