Yagami didn't sleep that night.
He lay on the narrow bed in the small room he shared with Minato, staring at the ceiling where faint cracks spiderwebbed across the concrete. The dome lights outside cast a pale blue glow through the single window, turning everything cold and unreal.
The red scarf lay folded on the chair beside him.
He hadn't taken it off—not really. He'd only loosened it enough to breathe. But even now, hours later, the fabric still felt warm against his skin, like it remembered the tree's touch.
Haruka's words kept replaying in his head:
"Don't take it off. Not yet."
He closed his eyes and saw her again—standing at the corner, blonde hair catching the light, fingers brushing his neck. The way her voice had dropped when she whispered his name. The way her eyes had lingered on his, searching for something he didn't know how to give.
His heart beat too fast.
He hated it.
Yagami turned on his side, facing the wall.
He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not about the governor's daughter. Not about anyone. He was supposed to survive—nothing more. The war had taught him that much. Attachments were weaknesses. People died. Or left. Or both.
But Haruka hadn't run when Jimmy attacked.
She'd stepped in front of him.
Taken the blade meant for him.
He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the steady thump beneath.
Why did that hurt more than the cuts on his arms?
A soft knock came from the living room.
Minato's voice, rough from sleep and liquor:
"You awake, kid?"
Yagami sat up.
"Yeah."
The old man appeared in the doorway, still holding the faded photograph. He looked sober—unusually sober. His eyes were clear, tired, but sharp.
"Couldn't sleep either," Minato said. He sat on the edge of the bed without asking. "Figured we should talk now. Before the hangover kicks in."
Yagami pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them.
"Tell me everything. No stories. No jokes."
Minato exhaled slowly.
"That scarf you never take off… it belonged to your grandmother. She wore it every day until the day she died. Said it kept her safe. Said it reminded her of someone she lost long before I met her."
Yagami touched the fabric again.
"Who?"
Minato looked away.
"She never said his name. Just called him 'the boy who wanted freedom.' Said he wore a scarf just like it. Said he gave it to her before he… disappeared."
A chill ran down Yagami's spine.
"Mikasa Ackerman?"
Minato nodded once.
"That's what the stories say. Mikasa buried Eren under that tree. And she kept his scarf. Passed it down through the family. Through blood. Through generations."
Yagami stared at his grandfather.
"You're telling me this scarf is… his?"
"I'm telling you it's older than both of us," Minato said quietly. "And it's not just cloth. It carries something. Memories. Pain. Strength. Whatever you want to call it. Your grandmother felt it. I felt it when she gave it to your mother. And now… you feel it."
Yagami's hand tightened around the scarf.
"The tree spoke to me. It called me 'child of the blade.' It said the Fourth Path was opening."
Minato's face darkened.
"Then it's starting again. The cycle. The Paths. The curse that never really ended."
Yagami leaned forward.
"What cycle?"
Minato stood up slowly, walking to the window. Outside, the dome lights pulsed like a heartbeat.
"A long time ago, Eren Yeager used the Founding Titan to wipe out most of the world. He thought he was giving his people freedom. Instead, he started something bigger. A loop. Hatred doesn't die—it waits. It hides. It grows roots."
He turned back.
"That tree isn't just a grave. It's a door. Every few hundred years, when the blood is right—royal blood, Ackerman blood—it opens. And someone has to choose. Destruction. Partial peace. Total annihilation. Or something new. The Fourth Path."
Yagami's voice was barely a whisper.
"And Haruka's blood…?"
"Royal blood," Minato said. "She's Fritz. Direct line. The tree recognized her. And it recognized you. Because you carry Ackerman blood… and you carry his scarf."
Silence stretched between them.
Yagami finally spoke.
"What do I do?"
Minato looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time in years.
"You decide if you want to wear the scarf… or let it wear you."
He walked to the door, pausing.
"Tomorrow we go back to the tree. Together. No running this time."
Yagami didn't answer.
When Minato left, Yagami lay back down.
He pulled the scarf tighter around his neck.
It felt heavier now.
But also… warmer.
Outside, the dome hummed softly.
Somewhere in the dark, a tree waited.
And in the quiet of his chest, something answered.