Sarah woke before sunrise, her face settled into a quiet kind of exhaustion—
not loud grief,
not blazing anger…
but something closer to what lingers after a storm has passed.
She had no intention of rebelling again.
She wasn't afraid—but she was tired.
Tired of wasting her strength on battles that held no meaning.
It was enough that she had survived herself the night before,
stood her ground against that silent fracture that had tried to swallow her whole without a sound.
She wasn't thinking of revenge against Levi.
Not even of proving herself to him.
She had simply come to understand—plainly, bitterly—that living in this place required more than intelligence.
It required patience.
She put on her jacket calmly, gathered her hair, and stepped out of her room toward the main hall, where breakfast had already begun.
⸻
The Corps had taken their usual seats around the table.
Conversation drifted loosely—Connie's whispers, Jean chewing noisily, Armin's familiar silence.
The moment Sarah entered, a brief tension settled in the air.
She was not one to arrive late.
Nor one to withdraw.
Yet today, she seemed different—quieter.
Her steps carried no trace of defiance or pride.
She offered a faint smile and said simply,
"Good morning."
Sasha replied with soft enthusiasm,
"Oh! I thought you wouldn't come out today."
Connie leaned toward her, smirking,
"We were about to send a rescue team."
Jean merely cast a sideways glance.
Armin nodded politely, without a word.
As for Levi—
he lifted his eyes to her briefly, then said in a dry tone, less sharp than yesterday,
"So, you've finally decided to follow the rules."
Sarah met his gaze—not with challenge, nor submission,
but with the look of a woman who had chosen not to waste her life on needless conflict.
"I'm not here to fight new wars," she said calmly.
He didn't reply.
But he didn't comment either.
Between the warm bread and the scent of tea, something subtle shifted.
No one said it aloud,
but the air felt lighter…
as though Sarah was beginning to belong—quietly.
Suddenly, the hall doors burst open.
One of the stable hands rushed in, his face pale, hands smeared with dirt and sweat.
"Captain Levi! The white mare—she's in labor, but she can't—
I think we're going to lose her!"
Conversation died instantly.
Everyone knew that mare.
Commander Erwin's horse.
The one no one was allowed to ride but him.
Levi rose at once.
The others followed.
And Sarah—
she followed too, not knowing why.
Only that her heart had begun to pound the moment she heard the mare's name.
⸻
The mare lay stretched across the straw, breathing with difficulty, her groans filling the stable like an ancient call.
Her legs trembled.
Her eyes shimmered with fear—
as if she sensed that the end was close.
Levi stepped forward, but found no words.
Even Mikasa stood helpless.
A soldier whispered,
"If we don't get the foal out now… we'll lose both."
Sarah didn't ask permission.
She stepped forward alone.
She knelt beside the mare, placed a gentle hand along her neck, then her belly—feeling the pulse, the movement.
She closed her eyes briefly, then whispered,
"The foal's position is wrong. The head is turned inward.
We need to rotate him."
Armin stepped closer.
"Do you… do you know how?"
Sarah didn't look at him.
She simply rolled up her sleeves and said quietly,
"I've helped with this before. At my uncle's farm.
They trusted me with horses."
She glanced at Levi—not asking for approval, but for silence.
Then she began.
⸻
Time grew heavy.
Sarah's hands moved inside the mare with unbelievable care.
Sweat beaded on her forehead.
Her face had gone pale.
Sasha and Connie whispered prayers.
Jean clenched his jaw, wishing he could do something—anything.
Then—
A small sound.
A weak, fragile whinny.
But alive.
The foal was born.
It slipped gently onto the straw,
and for a moment—
the world stopped.
The mare released a long breath, lifted her head, and looked first at her foal…
then at Sarah.
A look that words could never translate.
Sarah sank to the ground, her hands stained with blood and tears,
yet she was smiling.
A pure smile.
The first she had worn in a long time.
⸻
Connie said, grinning,
"I think this little one owes you his life."
Sasha laughed through tears,
"You deserve the honor of naming him!"
Armin added softly,
"You saved something that belonged to Erwin.
The name should be yours."
Sarah looked at the foal, then up at the clouds slowly clearing above.
"Azura," she said quietly.
"In our old language…
it means: the sky born after the storm."
Silence fell.
Then Jean smiled for the first time in days.
"A name worthy of a new beginning."
⸻
Levi stood in the corner.
He didn't speak.
Didn't approach.
But he stared at her as though he had seen something in her eyes he had never seen before.
Perhaps—
a small hope.
After tending to the foal and calming the mare, Sarah slipped away quietly.
She didn't seek praise.
Didn't wait for thanks.
Her hands trembled.
The heat of her body seeped into the dirt beneath her.
Yet, for a fleeting moment—
she felt something like peace.
In her room, she said nothing.
She peeled off the bloodstained shirt and stepped into the bath.
Water washed away the traces of the harsh birth from her skin—
but not from her heart.
Her eyes remained half-closed, replaying the mare's gaze, the foal's small nudge…
and Mikasa's faint smile.
⸻
In the hall, the Corps sat in an unusual silence.
No talk of food.
No talk of weather.
Only quiet reflections.
Connie murmured, staring at the table,
"I thought today would be Pearl's end… not Azura's beginning."
Sasha whispered softly,
"I haven't seen anyone approach that mare like this since… Erwin."
Jean exhaled,
"I froze. And she didn't. She knew exactly what to do—without asking for anything."
Mikasa looked out the window.
"Sometimes courage isn't in fighting…
but in stepping toward pain without running from it."
Armin spoke last, his voice clear,
"If Commander Erwin were here… he would have wanted to meet her.
He would have respected her."
Silence followed.
Levi slowly lifted his eyes from the untouched cup of tea.
That sentence pierced him—
as though it had risen from a past that never truly faded.
In his mind, Erwin's voice returned, standing beneath a gray sky:
"Levi… let your heart see those around you, as clearly as your eyes do."
Then Eren suddenly looked up from his plate and said,
"Sarah is like a butterfly.
One small movement… and the future changes."
A long silence followed.
It wasn't praise.
It was a quiet prophecy,
dropping like a stone into still water.
Levi said nothing.
Didn't move.
But he was no longer the same.
⸻
Before sunset, Sarah was tying her hair when a knock came at her door.
A short message:
"Captain Levi requests your presence in his office."
Her heart skipped.
She hadn't expected this.
Was it because of what she had done?
Or because she no longer understood how he looked at her?
⸻
When she entered, he stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back.
He spoke without turning.
"What you did today… isn't something just anyone could do."
She didn't interrupt.
He turned toward her.
His eyes were calmer than she had ever seen them—yet still guarded.
"You saved a mare that was more than just a horse.
And you saved a foal… carrying a memory only I know."
Her heart nearly stopped.
She had expected sharp words.
Not this unsettling calm.
He moved toward the shelves.
"Whenever you wish… you may choose any horse from the stables and ride it.
It's your right."
Something inside her trembled.
She didn't know whether her heart raced from respect—
or because something in his voice had changed.
He wasn't issuing an order.
He was a man lowering a wall—just for her.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"I didn't expect that."
He nodded once, then turned back to the window—
as if he didn't want her to see him shake,
or smile.
She left softly and closed the door behind her.
⸻
Outside, she paused.
A hand pressed to her chest, where her heart fluttered.
"What is this feeling…?
Admiration?
Surprise?
Or the beginning of something that has no name yet?"
Her heart gave no answer.
It simply beat again.