Chapter Text
Chapter 4: Narumi Gen
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“I will admit I’m surprised you’re still scheduling these appointments,” the therapist says. The older woman puts her clipboard down, signaling the end of the session. “I thought that once you got what you wanted, we’d be done.”
Narumi slouches further into the couch and pulls out his handheld console—that had been one of her rules, no video games during sessions.
Kaguragi Kureha used to be a combat medic in the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force until an injury forced her to retire from the frontlines. She ended up going back to school and now continues to serve as a clinical therapist. Narumi had heard of her long before his own ego walked him into her office. Kureha became famous amongst the captains for running therapy sessions like strategic meetings, providing maps and markers to set up. She had taken one look at Narumi and pulled out game pieces that looked suspiciously like those from a famous fantasy roleplay.
“How long has it been?” he asks, waiting for the game to boot up.
“Fifteen months now and you’ve only missed two sessions,” Kureha answers. She stands up from her chair and begins putting back all the little figurines back into a box. “Both due to kaiju related emergencies.”
“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” Narumi says. He watches her clean off the coffee table over his screen. Her movements are intentional and efficient. She wastes no movements or words so Narumi anticipates her comments are leading up to something.
“This was the first time you talked about your family,” she continues.
“That’s not true,” Narumi scoffs. His character spawns on the map and he taps through the instructions quickly. “I did the intake forms. You asked before and I answered.”
“The first time you brought them up yourself,” Kureha amends. “I don’t think I even knew where your hometown was until today.”
“Did you not read my file?” Narumi frowns. “It’s all in there.”
“Your file says you’re hometown is in the Chubu region,” Kureha says dryly. “I suppose that narrows it down to only nine prefectures out of forty seven.”
“Oh,” Narumi blinks.
“Captain Narumi, did you not realize that most of your personal information is highly classified?” Kureha asks. “Whatever is readily available, even to your healthcare providers, has been very vague.”
Narumi hums. No, he hadn’t known that.
“I can’t even see the results of your bloodwork without going through a classified portal,” Kureha says. She pauses in her clean up and just watches him play his game for a moment. “You really don’t know how special you are, huh?”
“What’s that mean?” Narumi frowns. He looks up at her with a irritated scowl. Sure, their biweekly session is over but surely there’s some level of professionalism she needs to keep up. “Look, I know how fucking privileged I am—“
“No, Captain Narumi,” Kureha interrupts and it’s the first time she’s ever done that. “I’m not talking about privilege.”
“Then what?” Narumi grumbles.
She is quiet for an unsettling pause. Narumi holds the gaze of her piercing brown eyes head on. Kaguragi Kureha is a tall woman with a strict demeanor telling of her military background—clean cut hair, straight posture and unwavering focus. In all their sessions, Narumi has never seen the older woman hesitate be it words, actions or intentions. Right now, Narumi doesn’t need his RT-0001 to see that she’s struggling with something.
“I don’t think I have the appropriate knowledge to inform you,” Kureha says finally. She finishes folding the maps and returns to her desk. “This may be something better to ask your Operations Leader, Kurusu Akira. I believe he used to directly work under the late Director General Shinomiya.”
“And what does he know?” Narumi asks in annoyance.
“He’s most familiar with functional kaiju tissue transplant in the First Division,” Kureha answers, sitting down at her desk. She turns to her computer and start typing—probably charting their session. “Otherwise, you could always connect with a research scientist at Izumo Technologies. They are the leading experts in Japan.”
“Functional kaiju tissue transplant,” Narumi repeats slowly. He feels like he’s heard the term before but where?
“Maybe Vice Captain Hoshina’s sister, Hoshina Soujiro, could be a good resource,” Kureha continues. “She’s been the project lead for quite a few Number Weapons.”
“Did everyone know that he had sisters except me?” Narumi mutters, staring intensely at the scope of his first person shooter game.
“I think it’s commendable how dedicated you are to the Defense Force,” Kureha says in lieu of an answer. Narumi has never heard of such a polite—yes, you singleminded simpleton. “My apologies Captain. My next appointment should be here shortly. We can pick up our conversation next time.”
“I might need to reschedule one of our future sessions,” Narumi says, remembering their travel plans. “Hoshina and I are trying to see when our days off can overlap so we can go, well, to my hometown.”
“Of course, feel free to contact our office directly or have your admin reach out,” Kureha agrees. She stops typing and turns to him. The usually stoic woman gives him a rare smile. “I hope you’re able to schedule that trip soon.”
Narumi merely nods in response, but he knows she saw the smile on his face as he turned to leave her office. Ah, he’s truly turning into a sap—who knew that the First Division captain would one day be so excited to share his life with someone?
—
The first time Narumi voluntarily went to counseling was to get Kikoru to go.
“You’re the strongest and you never needed it,” Kikoru had scoffed.
“Yeah, who said? I go all the time,” Narumi had argued and accidentally backed himself into a corner. Under her watchful eye, Narumi had to schedule an appointment and even blocked out his calendar to go. He has never asked his admin to add anything to his calendar and the poor woman almost had a heart attack seeing him in her office for the first time ever.
“It’s good to lead by example,” Hoshina says after a long hearty laugh. They are having their usual evening phone call and today Narumi’s excuse is Kikoru. “If there is anything you’d wanna talk about, would be a good opportunity.”
“What would I even talk to a shrink about?” Narumi grumbles, mashing the buttons on his BS5 controller in annoyance.
“Hm, your spending habits may be a good start,” Hoshina teases. “Or maybe your frustration with kaiju not scheduling their invasions and causing ya to lose out on two different preorder games.”
“Ha ha, yes very funny,” Narumi snorts. “Let me take it a step further and report the kaiju for disciplinary action.”
“Ya know the policy if they’re creating a toxic work environment,” Hoshina continues.
“The fact you never reported me,” Narumi mumbles under his breath, but even through the phone, Hoshina catches it.
“I thought it was funny and honestly, I got more one ups on you than you got on me,” Hoshina answers. “What was the point in telling Captain Ashiro I was bullying a superior officer?”
“Hey, you never one-upped me!” Narumi lies, speaking with his ego.
“Yes, and none of us have kaiju related trauma,” Hoshina agrees with another lie.
Narumi pauses and considers it. He knows everyone in the Defense Force either came in due to a kaiju related loss or experienced them during their time serving. He figured Hoshina had something too—everyone knows Narumi’s sob story of being orphaned in a kaiju attack even if that hadn’t been the main motivation for him joining the Defense Force.
In the silence, Narumi hears the quiet clinks of the keyboard. Even this late at night, Hoshina is probably still in his office finishing reports that weren’t due for another week. There was probably something that drove Hoshina beyond just a strong sense of responsibility but Narumi has never thought to ask.
“What was it for you?” Narumi asks.
“Hm?”
“Kaiju related trauma,” Narumi clarifies. “What was it for you?”
“Being a Hoshina,” the other says dryly. The tapping of the keyboard stops and Narumi hears the heavy creaking of their standard issue office chairs. Hoshina breathes out in a heavy sigh. “And none of the recruits that joined with me are still alive.”
“No one?”
“That year there were only nine new recruits in our region and I’m the last one standing,” Hoshina says. “Three of them died during our first mission. Only one honju was detected and reported but there had been two. Their platoon had been on their own for six minutes with two fortitude 6.6 honju. They lost their platoon leader in that battle too.”
Narumi doesn’t interrupt. He pauses his game and stares at the flashing menu, listening.
“Two died due to friendly fire. They weren’t able to evacuate the designated zone fast enough before their captain had to release full combat power. If she hadn’t, the honju would have laid waste to a large evacuation bunker that was at full capacity,” Hoshina continues. His voice is flat like he’s giving a weapons inventory report and not talking about people he trained with and shared a dream with. “Two died during the subjugation of Kaiju No. 7. Both had become platoon leaders that year. We didn’t have enough pieces of them to return to the families. And one quit the force.”
“So not everyone then,” Narumi says.
“Oh no, he died too,” Hoshina laughs but everything about it sounded off. “Car accident. The only non-kaiju related death I suppose. Went to his funeral and met his wife and kids. We all felt weird about it.”—Hoshina’s voice takes on an odd strain—“He wasn’t supposed to have died after leaving the Defense Force. That was the whole point.”
They lapse into silence. Hoshina’s breathing is uneven, but Narumi finds no reason to point it out.
“I want Shinomiya to talk to someone before she burns out,” Narumi admits. He presses continue on the menu and starts his game again. “The expectations of the dead have no end since the actual people are not here to set them. She’s gotten better since the No. 9 cataclysm, but there were missions…”
“That worried you?” Hoshina asks, clearing his throat for a steadier voice. The typing on the other side of the phone line begins as well.
“I don’t worry about her winning, I trained her after all,” Narumi says with his chest. He goes quiet to think of his vice captain. Even for the Defense Force, Shinomiya Kikoru is young, but she carries the guilt of someone a decade older. The captains don’t talk about it—their kaiju related trauma—but Narumi knows the look.
All the captains carry the shadow of those who died in their care. When facing off stronger and stronger kaiju, death was inevitable. No one is capable of saving everyone; in fact, sometimes they weren’t even able to save themselves. Both Shinomiya Hikari and Shinomiya Isao—her first and greatest role models—made the decision to entrust the world to the next generation.
But Kikoru isn’t supposed to be thinking about that. Hell, Narumi hasn’t even passed the baton to her yet. Maybe in twenty, thirty years when she makes the jump to staffing at the Headquarters, but not when she’s barely started her career.
“I need to be her wall,” Narumi says finally. “She knows how to win but she needs to learn when to take the loss and not overcompensate to achieve short term gain. But I can only be the obstacle she loses to. I can’t teach her how to overcome her ghosts.”
“If you want her to learn from your mistakes, ya may want to talk to her about it,” Hoshina comments. “Even though it may not seem like it, she does respect her ‘moronic master’ sometimes.”
“Learn from my—?” Narumi echoes in confusion.
“Overcompensating to achieve short term gain because of personal ghosts?” Hoshina questions. “Hm, reminds me of a certain First Division captain.”
“Excuse you, I set up amazing foundations for myself so I could manage that short term gain,” Narumi scoffs. He smashes the buttons on his controller without much reason other than frustration. “I know I’m a prodigy but if no one else, you should know how hard I—“
“I know how hard you work,” Hoshina interrupts. “But I also know that during the No. 9 cataclysm, if it would have brought us closer to the victory built upon sacrifices, you would have gladly died to further it.”
Narumi stops pressing on his controller, but he doesn’t stop the game. His character falls off the platform.
“All her role models have placed the future to be more important than themselves. How is she supposed to learn any different?” Hoshina asks quietly. "She looks up to you too, Gen. You need to lead by example.”
“Hypocrite,” Narumi growls. “You speak as though she doesn’t look up to you and your self-sacrificial ass. Forget No. 9, you were willing to lay down your life for anyone in the Third Division for years.”
The typing stops.
“For once you’re right, Captain Narumi,” Hoshina says. Narumi knows he needs to say something—he was just lashing out because Hoshina is right and that Shinomiya Kikoru is merely speeding down his path—but then Hoshina bursts out laughing. “For once, you’ve used the word hypocrite correctly. I had almost lost hope.”
“Oh fuck you!” Narumi shouts.
“Back to profanities,” Hoshina sighs. “Hope is truly short lived.”
And they returned to their normal banter.
But later that night, Narumi thinks about what Hoshina said. Later that week, sitting in the counselors office in front of Karugai Kureha, Narumi thinks about what Hoshina said.
“So Captain Narumi, where would you like to begin?”
Narumi starts—how do I lead by example?
—
Narumi has had a pretty lax day considering the three kaiju emergencies earlier that week, especially since Kikoru offered to do the reports for all the neutralization missions. Shinonome said something about the young vice captain feeling bad about breaking protocol during their latest mission, but Narumi had not quite understood.
“If you hadn’t taken out the yoju in area delta, they would have swarmed the honju neutralization point and caused an even larger problem,” Narumi said, trying to figure out the issue. “It was only a break in protocol because the yoju hadn’t been anticipated.”
“And I should have anticipated this,” Kikoru argued. “It wasn’t a new type of kaiju at all.”
“If you wanted to be transferred to the kaiju analytics team, just tell me next time,” Narumi retorted. “I’m sure Hibino wouldn’t mind.”
“Captain Narumi, just drop it,” Kikoru said with a tone of finality that sounded too much like her father’s. She hesitated before admitting. “Area delta had not been completely evacuated and this could have gone so much worse. I can’t let it happen again.”
“So you’re punishing yourself with paperwork,” Narumi concluded with a raised eyebrow.
“Just, arg, just let me,” Kikoru sighed. “I need to do this.”
Narumi did leave her to it, and if he runs into the Third Division platoon leaders and points them to the Vice Captain’s office, it’s because they asked. After all, Narumi has no say on when the First and Third Division have joint training sessions. Even if it was an emergency session called to improve Tokyo area cooperation for rapid kaiju emergences—three kaiju emergences in four days is very concerning, that’s just a strategic decision Narumi signed off on and nothing more.
Having fulfilled his duties for the day, Narumi’s currently lounging on the couch in his apartment waiting for Hoshina to return from Izumo Technology headquarters.
Hoshina texted earlier that he wanted to meet off base. While Narumi is happy to do so, there was something curt and almost frantic about Hoshina’s short phrases and multiple typos. Something must have happened when Hoshina went to go see his sister and, as much as Narumi is trying not to worry, he’s a little worried.
Hoshina rarely panics on the battlefield and even less in their day-to-day lives. So when Narumi receives a series of texts during training drills, he actually lost count and had his platoon leaders run through the exercises two extra times while he tried to formulate a response.
Today 16:06
Can we meat at your place to night?
Sorry, I no its sudden
I just knead to see ya
Today 16:20
It’s okay if we can’t.
Don’t worry about it, we can meet this weekend as planned.
Today 16:22
Just come over
[narumi_angry_pointing.gif]
You have the keys
I’ll make dinner
Today 16:35
Okay
Be there in an hour
It’s currently 17:35 and Narumi finished making dinner about twenty minutes ago—a simple meal of chicken curry rice but it’s the easiest to keep warm while waiting. He’s been trying to continue playing his shooting game, but his aim is off to an embarrassing degree that he’s given up. Lying face up on the couch, Narumi spreads his limbs and waits.
He’s not sure whether he’s used to worrying for someone on a personal level. Narumi understands how to show concern on a work level because that’s easy—train to get stronger to kill kaiju. If nothing else, Narumi has experience with combat training whether it be close or long range. He doesn’t enjoy leading basic exercises but he’s well adept at it. At this stage of his career, he has voluntarily and unwillingly mentored more soldiers than he ever thought he would.
But Hoshina is different.
Even before they started dating, Narumi never really trained with Hoshina. They never needed to. Hoshina had his own set of routines—for speed, precision and to inhibit—and Narumi has his own—for power, weight and to annihilate. There had never been reason to train together as they never worked together.
They’ve sparred and competed and pit themselves against each other. But Narumi never needed to deconstruct Hoshina’s martial way or correct his form. Consequently, he refuses to met Hoshina with anything less than his best. Narumi has never really worried about Hoshina as an officer—his lovely fox eyed bastard was overly equipped with talent, discipline and sheer will power.
Sure, during the fight with No. 9 and the daikaiju of the Meireki era, Narumi worried for Hoshina, but even then, it wasn’t that Hoshina was incapable—not only had Hoshina exceeded his expectations, but he also made Narumi wish No. 9 would just disappear so he could take on Hoshina and Number Weapon 10 instead. At the time, the threat had just been beyond human comprehension and both of them were stretched past mortal limits. He had worried because they still had to give more or die trying.
But now, their relationship is different and Narumi finds himself worrying over things he didn’t expect himself to.
He worries about whether Hoshina ate breakfast or started morning drills with only a cup of black coffee. Narumi worries about whether Hoshina wore enough when going out with the Third Division since it was getting colder in the evenings. He worries about Hoshina going back to his family home as the other man comes back with the most inexplicable moods even when his brother hadn’t been present.
And here he is, Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant, lying on the couch, worrying about Hoshina and his sister that Narumi hasn’t even met yet.
Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Narumi almost doesn’t hear the door opening, but he’s immediately alarmed at the sudden clattering of dropped things at the front entrance. He barely has time to sit up when Hoshina is on him, crushing him against the couch.
“Hey—woah, babe,” Narumi wheezes, trying to rearrange the other’s knee off his thigh. He doesn’t get very far when Hoshina drops his entire weight against him as though he was trying to fuse into the couch with Narumi between them. “I’m happy to—ouch, you knew I had a bruise there you fucking dick.”
“Went from ‘babe’ to ‘fucking dick’ real fast,” Hoshina chuckles into his neck. Narumi wants to be pettier but Hoshina is too tense for the lighthearted banter he’s trying for.
“You can go back to babe when you’re not digging your elbow into the same spot as the kaiju,” Narumi grumbles. He still encircles his arms around Hoshina’s waist to stabilize their uncomfortable position. Feeling the strain, Hoshina wriggles a little higher and pulls Narumi’s entire head into his arms, suffocating the captain in his uniform. Narumi manages to mumble through the fabric, “Still a dick right now.”
“But my elbow is nowhere near your ouchie,” Hoshina says in a sing-song tone, nuzzling Narumi’s hair. The tension slowly leaves Hoshina’s shoulders with each breath, and Narumi just suffers through the zipper pressing against his nose as Hoshina melts into him.
Gen is sure it hadn’t even been a full minute before Soshiro pulls away, sliding off him and onto the floor. There’s something boneless in the way Soshiro sits there—tired but seemingly content with the short cuddle session.
“Sorry,” Soshiro says quietly, looking down at the plush rug they had chosen together for the living room. “I just wanted to see ya.”
“More like you wanted to fuse with me,” Gen retorts. When Soshiro doesn’t respond with a playful quip, Narumi sits up and nudges his leg against his boyfriend. “Dinner?”
“What did ya make?” Hoshina asks, picking at the fibers.
“Chicken curry,” Narumi answers. He uses his foot to point towards the kitchen, making sure his leg stretches in front of Hoshina. His boyfriend snorts, batting the limb away, but he’s still not making eye contact. “You can take some back for the rest of the week.”
“Didn’t ya personally call an emergency joint training session?” Hoshina asks in a knowing tone. “I’ll be at the Ariake base too.”
“I did not,” Narumi scoff, affronted by the direct accusation. “And you better not go around telling people I did.”
“Hm, suspicious, almost sounds like ya did something that showed too much heart,” Hoshina teases. He finally turns to look at Narumi and his wine eyes are sparkling with amusement—just the way they should be. “Yer a lil bit of a tsundere ya know?”
“50 push ups for insulting a superior officer,” Narumi says with a huff. He slides off the couch too, pressing his entire weight against Hoshina’s back. Payback.
“There are easier ways to say you wanna sit on me,” Hoshina says with too much mirth for being folded forward. “Especially since I’m currently, ah, what did you call me—a fucking dick.”
Narumi flushes bright red at the implication—yeah, he did say that and sure, he’s not necessarily against it, but—
“Are you okay?” Gen asks, deciding to just be straightforward for once. He settles behind Soshiro with the other sitting between his legs, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist and hooking his chin on Soshiro’s shoulder. “For someone who likes to remind me about my abysmal language skills, you were struggling to type.”
“I’ll be okay,” Hoshina says with a sigh. He slumps back into Narumi, stretching his legs out to reach under the coffee table. “My sister’s having a difficult time at work and her stress just rubbed off on me. The big wigs are pushing hard for experimental stuff like functional kaiju tissue transplants even though there’s not enough resources.”
“Ah, I’ve heard Izumo Tech’s been laying off people due to contract freezes,” Narumi says. Hoshina turns to him with eyes wide in surprise—you know about something outside fighting kaiju? “I just gave a stupid presentation about Defense Force resources, okay?”
“Wow, Director General Itami really means to whip ya into shape,” Hoshina says, ending with a whistle. “It’s kinda scary to think of you with actual authority in the Defense Force.”
“Hey, I’m your boyfriend,” Narumi pouts and he gets a quick peck on his cheek for his emotional distress.
“It’s cause yer my boyfriend that I’m in equal parts proud and terrified,” Hoshina says. He wiggles out of Narumi’s hold and stands up, holding out his hand. “Dinner?”
“At least change out of your uniform,” Narumi complains. He slaps Hoshina’s hand away and jumps to his feet. “Go change and I’ll heat up the curry.”
“Oh, not going to ask me to choose dinner, bath or you?”
“We’re doing all three,” Narumi declares, pushing Hoshina towards the bedroom. “So get changed and we can start with dinner.”
Leaving a speechless and flustered Hoshina behind, Narumi proudly struts into the kitchen. Hah! See, he can get the upper hand sometimes!
Starting the stove top and setting the plates, Narumi decides he’ll ask again later tonight—are you really okay?—when Hoshina is sleepy and pliant. He’s not used to worrying for someone on a personal level, but he thinks he’s getting better at worrying about Hoshina.
Watching Hoshina savor his food brings Narumi an immense sense of satisfaction he didn’t think he could experience off the battlefield, and a tiny part of Gen takes pride that he’s also getting better at taking care of Soshiro.
—
To be continued...
Chapter 5: Hoshina Soshiro