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One of the unintended consequences of Nine's emergence is that Soushirou has become acquainted with Ariake Base more in the past month than he ever has.
It's slightly smaller in size than Tachikawa Base, but equipped with the same top notch facilities and gear. He's beginning to remember the routes to the training rooms by heart, and he knows that the vending machine next to the first floor gym sells really good, steamin' sandwiches.
With the number of meetings he's been doing here, it isn't unexpected that he would become a little more familiar with its occupants as well. Setting aside their ongoing rivalry, the soldiers of the first division are pretty decent people. Well, most of 'em are. He even got greetings from a few platoon leaders and troop soldiers on his way to the meeting room today. It's enough to put him in a breezy mood, which is probably what's making the meeting proceed smoothly as well.
"–it's only a matter of time before we have to take on the worst of it all, so I suggest we amp up trainings, give 'em tight spots that force 'em to keep their heads clear even with thrice the chaos."
He throws out the idea on impulse, hands clenched tight behind his back. He's not top brass in here, merely a middleman swept up in this mess because he faced one of Nine's prototypes head-on, and the little shit wouldn't communicate with anyone but him. He's not really in the place to crank up the whole force's training sessions when they're already tight on time and manpower. Soushirou's heart drops when the room falls silent for a moment, but someone raises their hand.
"I second that," Vice-commander Hasegawa announces, "it tends to get overlooked among the rookies. Intense drills with unexpected scenarios might just be the key to honing cool, collected and cohesive, something we've failed to beat into a reckless bastard here. Isn't that right, Captain Narumi?"
Soushirou's line of sight naturally drifts to the first seat at the corner of the desk, expecting yet another crude comment or sarcastic quip from the Defense Force's First Division commander. Instead, he sees the one thing he'd never expected to see.
Narumi Gen has his head on the table, and he's sound asleep.
Next to him, Vice-commander Hasegawa stiffens.
"You-"
"No!" Soushirou cuts in, which immediately stuns Hasegawa. Chief Shinomiya. The whole room. Heck, even he didn't know what he was doing, blabbering his mouth like that and interrupting a superior officer. He really might just lose his head today. Damn.
He inhales a shaky breath, eyes flickering to the resting man slumped over in the corner, and the aching wave of protectiveness surging over drowns everything else out at once.
"No," Soushirou repeats, tone final. His hands tremble behind his back. "Let 'im rest. I'll personally debrief him later."
He turns to face the slide screen. In the corner of his eye, he catches Vice-commander Hasegawa looking at him with an emotion in his eyes he'd rather not unpack.
Soushirou pretends he doesn't see it.
__
The meeting room is bare and dark, chairs neatly tucked back into their places and monitor screen flashing a blank green.
Soushirou stacks the last of the materials into a pile and leaves it to the side. He looks up.
Narumi Gen has not budged an inch since half an hour ago, game switch resting at the tip of his fingers and face smushed against his arm in an angle that Soushirou is sure would leave a horrible crick in his neck once he gains consciousness.
He doesn't have the heart to wake him up.
He rounds the table, footsteps silent, and stops right in front of the sleeping figure. This close, he can see the individual strands of Narumi Gen's hair falling across his face, the subtle riseandfallandriseandfallof his back and chest. There's no scrunch to his brow, no sneer or frown that dents the skin around his mouth. It makes him look young. Younger. Softer. Less sharp around the edges.
There's a foreign tug in his chest that makes his legs lose energy, so he drags the nearest chair out and takes a seat. He draws in a larger breath and sighs out the same way, feeling his shoulders droop and relax.
'Make sure he remembers every detail we discussed.' Hasegawa had warned menacingly as he walked out of the room, eyes nothing but warm. Soushirou had simply smiled and bowed at him.
He would, alright. As soon as this turd wakes up.
He's close enough to hear the tiniest rhythmic wheeze of air from Narumi's nose, and he smiles to himself. The guy's really fast asleep, it seems.
"Good, good," he says. Then, absolutely not like a weird creep, he watches Narumi Gen dream.
The quiet hum of the vent puts him at ease, which is a little odd, because Soushirou hasn't experienced this kind of peace in months, but he doesn't not welcome it. He rests his face against the palm of his hand and stares at the commander long enough to know that his breathing rhythm is slower than the average person. He's got a little mole near his ear on his jaw, the left corner of his mouth twitches every once in a while, and his nostrils flare a little when he inhales.
The last one makes him snicker softly. Then he catches sight of the sunken bags beneath his eyes, and he falls quiet.
It's no secret that Narumi Gen, self-proclaimed prodigy of kaiju slaying, haunts the training rooms every night when everyone else is dead to the world. Soushirou has personally seen him through the doors a couple times while on his way to his own training room, sometimes wielding just his monstrous bayonet, sometimes also suited up with numbers weapon one. He's been here long enough to know Narumi trains later, longer, rougher than anyone in the entire division—hell, most likely even in the entire force—tirelessly gearing up for battle anytime. Then he disguises his efforts with the flimsy lie of video games. He would be lying if he said he didn't respect the guy, and he would be lying if he said he didn't have the slightest spark of curiosity in him.
Why? Why would someone want to hide their hard effort? To keep up with the reputation of prodigy? With Narumi Gen's personality and pride, Soushirou doesn't put it past him, but he's also got a hunch it runs deeper than that. How did he enter the force? Soushirou knew he was close with Vice-commander Hasegawa, were they family friends before that? Why was his hair like that? Why did he choose a bayonet for his customized weapon? Could he use RT-0001 as and when he liked? How did it work? Did it put a strain on his mind?
Did it hurt bad?
Soushirou wanted to know. He wanted to know so many things. Things he would never have the courage or opportunity to ask this bullheaded asshole. This game-obsessed slacker. This enigma of a man.
His fingers hover over Narumi's fringe, uncertain, hesitant, and he realizes with a skip in his heart that the vent isn't the one that's making him feel this peace. His next breath is shaky on the inhale.
"It's you, ain't it?" He whispers, throat tightening, and gingerly brushes grey and black hair away from his face.
Narumi's eyes shoot open.
Terrifying, blazing pink stares him down, reminding him once again why he'd never want to face this man in a fight. Soushirou can't help but flinch when Narumi grabs his wrist with surprising strength, but a different kind of ache fills his chest.
He doesn't look away. He can't. Narumi Gen has the eyes of a bloodthirsty predator locked on him and all Soushirou sees is the dark hollows of sleepless nights beneath them, the tense outline of his shoulders, always ready to spring up and attack. It's beginning to become a little too much, toeing a little too close to the fences he's set up for himself. The most reckless part of Soushirou wants nothing more than to haul himself over those fences and reach out to brush his fingers against the skin of the man in front of him, so instead, he does what he does best with Narumi Gen: he opens his mouth and he taunts.
"My, Commander Narumi, how was your beauty sleep?"
Narumi scans him for a second more, before his eyes fade back to their usual dulled red and his default sneer etches into his expression.
"Fuck you doing, bowl cut. Get out of my face."
Soushirou sighs inwardly. A man can never share a tender moment with Narumi Gen around, however one-sided it was.
"I was goin' to wake ya, since you decided to dream sweetly during our very important meeting."
"Yeah right, go do whatever it is fox-eyed bowl cuts do during their spare time and stop bothering me," he grumbles, removing his grip from Soushirou's wrist. It tingles with the phantom feel of warm and calloused fingers against his skin. Soushirou pointedly ignores it. The game switch catches Narumi's attention, and his eyes fly open even bigger.
"AHHH! MY GAME! MY GAME! MY FINAL BOSS!" he shrieks, jerking up, frantically jabbing at the buttons. Seeming to come to a realization, he whips his head towards Soushirou and snarls.
"You shut it off, didn't you."
Forget everything. Soushirou can't stand one single hair on this idiotic bastard. He grins placatingly despite the rising irritation bubbling within him.
"It shut off cuz' you were asleep for so long, commander. Now, if you'd let me debrief you with the meeting minutes? Vice-commander Hasegawa dropped in a special request for me to make sure ya remember everythin'."
"Who cares what that old geezer says! We just bust in and take down every kaiju we see, same plan everytime."
Narumi stands, chair screeching, eyes glued to his switch as he begins to walk out of the room with a yawn. Like nothing happened. Like he wasn't so exhausted he just dozed in front of a crowd of officers in the middle of a meeting. In front of Soushirou.
He wants so badly to scream at the guy. Sucker punch him in that stupid mug 'til he's bruised and swollen and finally gets it into his thick skull that he needs rest, so much more than anyone else. Hold him tight and run his fingers through two-toned hair, whisper that everything would turn out okay, it always has. Cry and beg and plead for him to share at least one percent of his burden, the weight of a country's life in his hands, Soushirou can handle that much, Narumi didn't need to quietly shoulder it all on his own.
He doesn't.
Much to Soushirou's chagrin, all the words die in his throat, or perhaps he didn't actually have anything to say in the first place. Narumi could read the minutes if he wanted to, or he could have them pounded into his head by Vice Commander Hasegawa, or he could still charge in guns blazing and take down Nine and his lackeys. He is the strongest, after all. Ain't no point denying that.
Looks like the fences are still too high for Soushirou to climb over, so he does what he does best with all thoughts and things related to Narumi Gen.
He does nothing.