Work Text:
Dusk was already turning the base walls golden.
But in an empty training room, the lights were on, and the sighs were long.
"Okay. You're Okonogi." Hoshina stood at attention in front of Kafka, who still had a towel around his neck and an expression that screamed, "Why did I get involved in this?"
Kafka blinked.
"Me? Why me?"
"Because if I practice it with Mina, she'd throw a bomb at me. And Reno would laugh. And Kikoru would film me. You're the least dangerous."
"Thanks..."
Kafka snorted, straightening with a grimace worthy of someone who's survived worse... but not this.
"Okay. I'm Okonogi. Say your line."
Hoshina took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. She gathered all her courage as if she were about to face a kaiju of an unknown level.
"Your eyes have the precision of a tactical map and the warmth of coffee that's been poorly heated at the base, but still delicious if you make it…" Kafka raised a hand.
"Wait, wait! What's that? A metaphor? A technical poem? You sound like a romantic radar manual!"
"I'm serious! It has emotion!"
"No. It has stress and cold coffee."
Hoshina snorted. She tried again.
"When I see you, I feel my swords dull because I don't want to fight anymore. Only with you, by your side…" Kafka frowned.
"That sounds like you want to retire and live under his desk."
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Everything!"
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Attempt No. 4:
"Your hands… are so skilled they could deactivate my heart…"
"Do you want to be hospitalized?"
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Attempt No. 6:
"You're like an emotionally charged kaiju: you devastated my central nervous system."
"That was so bad I almost declared you my natural enemy."
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Attempt No. 10:
Hoshina was lying on the floor, arms spread, staring blankly at the ceiling like a wounded samurai.
"What if I give her a choreographed mission? With kaiju and flowers... I fight, and at the end, a giant banner that says 'Shall we go out to lunch?'"
Kafka, sitting on the bench drinking water, looked at him with absolute seriousness.
"Or... you can invite her to lunch. Normal. No kaiju. No banner. No poetry. Just you and her."
Hoshina looked at him as if he'd said something forbidden.
"What kind of simplistic sorcery is that?"
Kafka sighed.
"Brother, you're making this more complicated than a level six containment code. Just tell her you like her. In your voice. No special effects."
Hoshina was silent.
Then he sat down, thoughtful.
He took off his uniform jacket and used it as a pillow, murmuring:
"If she rejects me..."
"If she rejects you, you're still you. With swords, a questionable sense of humor... and the whole base wondering how you don't drop your uniform with so much charisma."
Hoshina smiled, a half-hurt laugh.
"Are you serious?"
Kafka nodded.
"Yes. Although if you use another tactical map metaphor, your uniform will drop. Out of embarrassment."
Hoshina covered his face with his arm.
"I'm doomed."
Kafka leaned back as well.
They were both silent for a few minutes.
Until Hoshina murmured,
"What if I write him a letter... with a drawing of me fighting a heart-shaped kaiju?"
Kafka turned to him.
He stared.
"You're beyond human help."