Reincarnated In Attack On Titan World As Nobody

That evening, Shin's home was unusually lively.

Warm light flickered across the wooden walls, casting soft shadows as laughter echoed through the small living space. The long wooden table was crowded with bowls, bread, stew, and the clink of cutlery. Grisha, Carla, and Eren sat comfortably at one end, while Harry and Martha sat across from them, close to Shin. Seven people, a modest meal, and yet, it was the most warmth Shin had felt since arriving in this world.

Shiganshina District wasn't the smallest town, but in a place this close-knit, reputations traveled fast. Grisha Yeager, with his unfailing dedication as a doctor during the last epidemic, was a local hero. Nobles from the interior sometimes requested his expertise. For many within the outer districts, he was more than a physician—he was a symbol of quiet strength.

Coincidentally, both Harry and Martha had once been his patients during those chaotic times. It didn't take long after introductions for a natural camaraderie to form between the two families. Shin mostly observed the warmth around him in silence, trying to let it sink into the cracks in his heart. The food tasted better when shared. The laughter, even if not loud, was genuine. For the first time in a long while, Shin experienced something painfully human—belonging.

He was grateful. But in the back of his mind, he also knew: happiness like this doesn't last.

It was already late when Harry and Martha rose from their seats to head home. Their forge was on the other side of town, and walking at night through the quieter streets of Shiganshina wasn't something to take lightly. Before leaving, Martha pulled Shin into a motherly embrace, whispering firm but kind words into his ear.

"Promise me you'll reconsider, child. Life is already dangerous enough. You don't need to go out there too."

Shin smiled faintly but said nothing. He had already made up his mind. His path was set.

Watching them disappear into the night, Shin whispered to himself, "I'm sorry... but I have my reasons."

"You could've told them face to face."

The quiet voice from behind didn't startle him. Turning, Shin saw Grisha leaning casually against the doorframe, his face calm, but his gaze sharp—penetrating.

Shin offered a soft smile. "Where are Eren and Mikasa?"

Grisha didn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes drifted upward, toward the towering silhouette of the inner wall that loomed under the starlit sky. His expression was unreadable. After a pause, he asked, "You're very curious about the world beyond the walls. Aren't you afraid of the Titans?"

"I am," Shin said immediately, his tone firm, no hesitation in his voice.

Grisha raised a brow, clearly surprised. "Then why?"

"Because fear means I know the risks. But I don't want to let fear decide my life for me. I don't want to live like livestock in a pen, just waiting for something to go wrong."

The word "livestock" hit the air like a stone thrown in still water.

Grisha's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The word carried meaning—a dangerous one. But instead of reacting harshly, he watched Shin in silence.

Shin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I heard from Uncle Keith… that you once went outside the wall. That you nearly died out there. If he hadn't found you, you wouldn't have made it back."

The memory was like a match to dry paper.

Grisha's usual composed demeanor flickered. There was a shift in his breath, the tightening of his jaw—but just as quickly, he calmed himself and nodded.

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "Back then, I was young. Foolish, maybe. I wanted to see the world for myself, to know what was out there. I owe Keith my life. If not for him, I wouldn't be here."

He paused, his voice softer now. "Compared to Titans… humans are incredibly fragile."

Shin looked back toward the dark sky, pretending to follow the distant stars as he spoke again, his tone casual, as if drifting into idle thought. "Sometimes I wonder… Are we really the only ones? Are there other people beyond the continent? And if we keep heading west, could we reach the sea?"

That word—"sea"—seemed to land with peculiar weight.

Grisha's head turned sharply toward him, though he masked it quickly. His voice, when it came, was light. "The sea, huh? That's a beautiful word. Did you read about it somewhere?"

Shin nodded, feigning innocence. "Yeah. Found it in an old book while cleaning out a storeroom. There were sketches of wide, endless water under the sun. It looked peaceful. I don't know if it's real, but… if it is, I want to see it. Someday."

"If the sea exists," Grisha said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper, "then perhaps we'll both see it… someday."

There was a subtle tension in the air. Shin could feel it—like the faint hum of electricity before a storm.

Grisha was hiding something.

Of course, Shin already knew. Grisha Yeager wasn't just a doctor. He carried within him the secret power of the Attack Titan and the memories of a world far beyond the walls. He had a mission—one that Shin, despite his empathy, dared not interfere with. He didn't want the Founding Titan's power. He didn't need it. Shin didn't want to sacrifice his life in thirteen years. He wasn't a martyr. He was a survivor.

But that didn't mean he couldn't use the knowledge he had.

The conversation lingered awkwardly for a moment longer before Grisha smiled and turned back toward the house. "It's late. Come by and visit your Aunt Carla more often. She talks about you every day."

"I will," Shin said, returning the smile.

Grisha reached out and placed a warm hand on his shoulder before disappearing back into the house. A moment later, Carla and the children followed behind him, waving goodbye with bright smiles.

And then, the house was silent once again.

Shin stood alone in the stillness of night, the last bits of laughter and warmth fading into the cold air. The stars twinkled high above, but he didn't look at them. His gaze was fixed ahead—toward the walls, toward the unknown.

"The Founding Titan… Ymir… the rumbling… Eren…"

Whispers from a future yet to come echoed in his mind. He couldn't afford to forget them. But for now, the priority was simpler, smaller.

"Focus on the conscription meeting first," he muttered to himself. "One step at a time."

Shin exhaled and turned toward his home, where the hearth was still warm.

The night was quiet again—but within his chest, the fire burned ever brighter.

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