Work Text:
If only Soushirou had been weaker and five seconds slower, maybe he could've lost the few fingers that were holding onto the door Gen was about to slam shut. Not that Gen thought it could actually happen (though he wished that it would. Okay, maybe not, but still!)— that foxy eyed bastard was way too slippery to allow that, too knowing, too...!
Ugh. Gen would love to bang his head onto the nearest surface if Soushirou wasn't leaning onto his doorframe like that— arms loosely crossed and a stupid-looking smile framed with piercing eyes that studied him from head to toe as though he were some kind of specimen. He stubbornly looked away, picking up a console he must've thrown in a fit of rage at some point. Those red eyes were slow, heavy in its caress regardless of the few meters of distance between them, trailing the shape of Gen's sweat ridden body with the kind of smugness that infuriated him deep in his bones.
"Not at the top of your game, Captain Narumi?" There it was, his infamous nerve-grating voice. "I didn't think ya would lose a spar so easily."
Gen loudly scoffed, finally facing Soushirou in all his compressed-shirt-glory as a finger repeatedly sliced the air. "Huh?! As if! That was just a fluke! You were playing dirty, you bastard!"
"Yea, sure. A three-time fluke. Ya sure are getting smarter these days." Soushirou hummed, walking into his quarters as if it were his own. Well, it was, in a way. "Besides, ya never said anything about not playing dirty. Kaijus never attack according to the rules."
"At least kaijus don't attack by kissing with full-on tongue! I was literally about to win!" Huffing, Gen turned his back on him to enter the washroom before sending a pointed glare. "Don't you dare add that to our scoreboard. You did not win, you damn bowlcut." There definitely wasn't a flush on his cheeks when he slammed the door shut. Definitely not.
Whatever, whatever! Fuck Soushirou and his stupidly handsome face. Fuck him and his calloused hands and softer lips. "Fuck off!" Grabbing two handfuls of two-toned hair, Gen groaned when his palms bumped into the warmth emanating from his face. He needed a shower.
After a purposely stretched out hot bath, specifically one with the door locked to keep out pests with bowl cuts and fox eyes, Gen stepped out with only a towel around his waist, ignoring the stare pinning him down as he rummaged for some clothes.
Now armed with sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, another set of that was pummelled right onto Soushirou's face, to which the vice captain unfortunately caught before Gen could even think of relishing in the sight of The Hoshina Soushirou beaten up by clothing. "You stink." was the oh so intelligent statement Gen decided to bestow. Soushirou laughed, loud, his already squinty eyes crinkling by its corners as his lips pulled just enough that Gen had to stifle the urge to kiss it.
Hm. Who said he had to stifle it?
Plopping himself onto the edge of the bed Soushirou was sitting on, Gen planted a teasing kiss by his mouth, barely touching the corner of his lips. His fingers curled into Soushirou's jaw, long enough to graze the purple strands near his neck. It was anything but satisfactory, but at least the shiver from the man beneath his touch satiated one part of him. Chapped lips brushed against slightly heated skin as a smug smile took form, resulting in a quiet huff of amusement from the vice captain.
Calloused fingers rested on both of Gen's cheeks, reaching into his nape with just a flick, yet it was enough that Gen had to force away the full body shiver. Magenta colored eyes nearly fluttered shut when a puff of air met his parted lips. However, instead of the press on his lips Gen had long memorised, their foreheads bumped against one another. Glittering red eyes peeked at him, crinkling at his confusion. "Gen, let me dry your hair. You're gonna get sick."
Gen narrowed his eyes like Soushirou was a particularly stupid child. "Who do you think I am? The great Narumi Gen doesn't get sick."
"Right." Soushirou chirped, voice not dissimilar to a kindergarten teacher speaking to his student— a very stubborn one, at that. "Silly me, I must've forgotten that idiots don't catch colds."
"What did you say—?!" His rising shoulders rose even further in a flinch when the fingers tousling his hair pulled at the knots. "Ow! Oi, stop it, you fucking— get off me!" Sure, maybe it was his fault that he hadn't brushed his hair, but sue him! He was about to do it at some point if Soushirou hadn't distracted him!
"No thanks. I kinda like it here."
Oh, what Gen would do to punch that look off his face. (Or kiss it away.)
Gen clicked his tongue, pushing the other man's face away despite having said sweaty arms wrap around his waist. "Stop rubbing your sweat on me! What are you, a dog?"
"Just for you, I can be." Soushirou pulled one arm back and curled his fingers into a claw. Holding in bubbling laughter at Gen's judgemental expression, snickering specifically at the light blush, Soushirou then brushed the wet strands away from his eyes. "So? Will ya let me dry your hair? You're gonna be the wet dog, if not."
With narrowed eyes that held onto Soushirou's for a few seconds, Gen finally sighed, melting into his palm. "Fine. But only if you shower first. Did I tell you that you smell?"
Soushirou chuckled. "That's rich comin' from you."
"Who was it that showered between the two of us? That's right. Not you." Gen poked at the Vice Captain's chest with every word.
"And who was it that locked the door?" In a blink of an eye, Soushirou was closer than ever as he stood up and leaned into Gen's space. Less than an inch worth of air separated their lips when Soushirou whispered, "Could've saved on the Defense Force's water bills, y'know."
"Pfft, as if a few hundred yen means anything to them." Like a cat that got the cream, Gen exhaled into the peck Soushirou finally gave, but not for long. Gen pushed him off, with only the slightest bit of hesitance, using both hands on his boyfriend's shoulders before turning him around. "Hurry up and shower, you pain in the ass."
"Roger, Captain Narumi, sir." A snicker resounded as Soushirou cleanly avoided a hit.
Gen was halfway through a level of the new switch game he just bought when a weight landed squarely on his back, squeezing all the air out of him before he turned and shoved the assailant off. Before a colorful variety of insults could be hurled at the culprit, the nozzle of a hairdryer was pressed right onto Gen's forehead like one would with a gun.
Silence accompanied by a wordless exchange took charge of the air, playful glances and raised eyebrows pointed at one another until the makeshift gun was lowered. Soushirou sat on the edge of Gen's bed, beckoning him to sit on the floorspace between his legs. "C'mere, ya grown child."
"Yeah, yeah." Even when he rolled his eyes, he still complied, immediately making himself comfortable by using his boyfriend's thigh as a pillow. Soushirou's low chuckle triggered a flutter in his stomach, soon settling into his skin as a faint buzz while the whirring sound of the hairdryer turned into background noise. The upbeat 8 bit music from his console was quickly discarded in favor of the sensation of deft fingers massaging his scalp. Although heated wind occasionally blew pink strands into his eyes, annoying him just enough for it to prickle, tendrils of sleep reached into the crevices of his mind, causing Gen to nod off and bury himself further into the sweatpants Soushirou was wearing. Those fingers paused, to which Gen pursed his lips at before raising his sleepy yet disapproving gaze, meeting Soushirou's achingly fond stare as the right side of his mouth twitched upwards. A snaggletooth made its appearance at that, Gen noted.
"Like what you see?" A half-smirk pulled at Gen's face. Upside down or not, the amusement and sheer affection in Soushirou's expression was clear enough to light something in him.
"What if I do?" Soushirou lowered himself that only a few centimeters of space was left between them. His free hand planted itself on the captain's chin, tilting it high enough that Gen had to arch his back, but not to the point that it was uncomfortable. "Are ya gonna do somethin' about it?"
Gen pretended to think about it for a moment, staring into the ceiling before his gaze refocused onto the man who had wormed himself into the ridges of his spine, curling around his hammering heart like a parasite attempting to fuse with it. A lazy smile was what Soushirou got in return. "Nah. Maybe next time, Vice Captain Hoshina. Or do you wanna beg for it? I'd pay to see that."
The grip on his jaw tightened by a fraction, much to his glee. A self satisfied smile bloomed at the cracks of Soushirou's cool, a part of Gen silently celebrating the win.
It didn't last long, however, when Soushirou began with fingers tapping the area below his jaw, eerily close to his throat. "Oh? What's this? The Narumi Gen willingly admittin' defeat? What a sight to see. Pity, I thought ya would've enjoyed what I was gonna give ya."
The mention of defeat was close to punching him square in the gut, veins popping and smile turning strained with every lilting Kansai accented word. "Who said I admitted defeat?" Gen bumped the side of his head into Soushirou's inner thigh, running a hand through purple hair to reveal his forehead. Strangely, whatever snarky reply Gen had on his tongue instantly dissolved into a silent exhale, a rare occurrence of silence. But before Soushirou's features could twist into concern, Gen whispered, voice heavy with everything he could carry. "You're beautiful."
Magenta eyes remained still as they witnessed a pretty dust of red spreading throughout the man above him in real time. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from weeks of No. 9 related unrest finally getting to him, but Gen didn't feel like teasing or poking fun at his obvious fluster. Gen wrapped his palms around Soushirou's face and brought him closer, mesmerised by each and every slope and ridge making up Hoshina Soushirou, his touch tender as though he was cradling the entire world. Heh, maybe he was.
"Soushirou..."
"Yes, my dearest Gen?" The smile bestowed upon him was one that belonged to angels, yet it was also as human as it could be— so full of love.
"Kiss me, you fucking coward."
Soushirou laughed, loud and delighted. "As you wish, my fool." He dropped in and cut off the beginning of complaints with a sealing kiss, as swift and precise as his swordsmanship.
In a world such as theirs, anyone would've assumed that the kisses they share tend to be a splitting image of the way they fight— rough, full of teeth and spit and accompanied by tension that crackled dangerously at the slightest pressure. And well, they couldn't have been so right yet so wrong.
It was more than just canine teeth and acid spit, Gen would say. No one knew about the way Soushirou would pry his mouth open with a simple swipe of his tongue (like what he was currently doing). No one knew about the sensation of calloused fingers trailing towards his nape, circling around his throat before moving lower and lower as it raised shivers down his entire body. No one knew about the sheer amount of flickering looks of desire and want and so much more that would flash across his red, lidded eyes— staring directly at Gen and Gen only.
He's sure that Soushirou would want his eyes to be only on him as well. It was simply a fact they both have to deal with, and no one's complaining.
"What are ya thinkin' so deeply about there?" Soushirou muttered as soon as they broke apart, a line of saliva connecting them. "Me?"
Clicking his tongue, Gen forced a few gulps of air in before standing with a grumble. "As if I could think about anything else with you attacking my mouth like that. Now shut up and move over, bowlcut."
"Good." Soushirou grinned, pulling Gen into his arms right before they sank into the sheets, limbs intertwined and all.
Two pairs of eyes pierced right into one another. Foreheads bumped, chests rose and fell, and without allowing a second to slip, lips locked each other into place. Gen let out a pleased sigh into Soushirou's parted mouth, the warmth enveloping them from the inside melting all the weight off of their shoulders in an instant.
Gen groaned at the tongue that licked the roof of his mouth, tasting mint toothpaste on the back of his teeth as if it were a delicacy. Snaking his arms under the back of Soushirou's shirt (technically Gen's, but they've shared too much that the line was already blurred), he smirked at the way the shoulders that his fingernails grazed shuddered. That was, until Soushirou flipped him onto his back, deepening the kiss with hands that swiped across cheekbones before pressing them both further into each other, if that was even possible.
Intermittent whines and muffled moans were the only noises echoing throughout the dim room, followed by heavy breathing and heartbeats so loud Gen could barely differentiate which one was his and Soushirou's. Not like it mattered. Their hearts had been one long before they even realised.
Soushirou pulled back just enough to admire his handiwork, a satisfied grin tugging at his cheeks when moonlight was reflected off of red, glistening lips. Hm. He almost wished that Soushirou could see through his own kaiju-tainted eyes just how enchanting he was to Gen, especially with the white veil of the moon backlighting him— but maybe it was the same case for him. Who knows.
The air crackled with breathlessness. A hand tightened its grip on Gen's waist while the other brushed his bangs away, resting among his disheveled hair afterwards. With the way Soushirou was staring at him, Gen would've thought that he was about to charge in for another kiss, yet he remained unmoving. Red irises melted from its corners before Soushirou tipped himself downwards, kissing both his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his eyelids— all in succession.
"Gen," he whispered. Their gazes trapped one another in this temporary world that has only the two of them as its inhabitants. "Y'know I love you, right?"
Gen stayed still, befuddled at first, before letting go of the puff of air trapped within his lungs. "Of course I do. Who wouldn't?" Cradling his beloved's face who chuckled at his words, Gen led the other to lie by his side before pressing his face into the junction of Soushirou's collarbone. "I love you too, idiot."
His arms tightened around Soushirou as a rumble of sleepy laughter was what he got in return. Comfortable silence took over the two, the fingers scratching and playing with the back of his hair nearly lulling them into the world of dreams.
"When we have time," Gen mumbled with eyelids on the verge of closing. "Let's go to the beach."
Soushirou hummed, nuzzling into the mess that was Narumi Gen's hair. After a slow inhale of shampoo, he replied, "Sure, sounds nice." He paused for a second. "Wanna play in the water?"
Huffing, a grin pulled at his features. "Oh, you're on. I'm winning whatever game you're planning."
"Ya sure? Correct me if I'm wrong, but in every game we play, didn't ya lose about, let's see, 90% of the time?"
"Hah? You're overexaggerating again!" Gen squeezed him hard enough for Soushirou to laugh, breathless. "Just beginner's luck. I'll beat you into shreds next time."
"Can't wait."
Soon their hearts levelled into the morning crash of waves, their breaths the salty wind that remained steady in its course. Gen peeked at Soushirou's peaceful expression lit by the dimmest of light spilling through drawn curtains. Not the polite smile that was practically engraved on his face. Not the annoyingly smug smiles he'd shoot whenever Gen was in the vicinity. Not a sliver left of the iciness he'd silently pierce into his opponents. Just Soushirou and the simple peace he deserved for the longest time.
Alas, it's impossible for someone of their calibre to truly be at peace, especially with the circumstances of the world they stand in. If only. Gen gently tucked a part of Soushirou's hair, pausing for a moment before he pulled Soushirou closer. Thoughts like that were stupid— futile.
After making sure Soushirou was really asleep, Gen's voice came out quieter than a whisper, as though the words that spilled out had only been spoken within the safety of his mind. "If anything happens to me, burn me to crisp and let me stay with you forever."
After all, not even he who wielded all-seeing eyes could truly predict their fates, for the world was cruel and their dreams naive. For you are the home I finally have.
—
Flowing blood and countless aches akin to a million needles went ignored in favor of everything else, literally. Information down to the atomic level streamed into his consciousness without an end in sight, where visions upon visions of alternate futures and potential attacks flooded into each and every crevice of Gen's brain, seeping just as quickly into his bones and muscles as he struck and shot. Another slash, a number of shots— the barrage of it simultaneous and nuclear-like.
In the midst of the storm of his attacks, another horde of precise slicing danced around him and whatever the fuck No. 9 had evolved into like a mosquito— an extremely annoying one with a terrible taste in haircuts, in fact. The grin on Gen's face was close to manic when he yelled with his bayonet drawn, "Don't bother ducking, bowlcut!"
Barely glancing at the Vice Captain who evaded his attack with ease, Gen immediately darted towards the teleporting kaiju without an ounce of hesitation, shots already in tow. To stop for even a millisecond was to die, both soldiers knew all too well.
Relentless attacks, whether made by blades or guns, bounced off its eight limbs with a mocking clang! Molars grinding, the strongest anti-kaiju combatant and the top close combat specialist forced themselves past their limits, their heads focused on one goal and one goal only: destruction of the enemy. Each of their strongest forms were already deployed as they soared towards the kaiju in less than a blink of an eye—
—only for them to be disengaged by the simplest touch. A split second of widening eyes was all Gen felt when the cluster of pupils exploded before him and Soushirou. “Close call.” Gen muttered, mostly to himself. Years of honed reflexes were the only thing that saved them both from the vicious tendrils of death. Despite everything, Gen risked a brief glance at the 3rd Division's vice captain jumping from obstacle to obstacle, soothing a restless part of him in return. Still up and running, huh, Soushirou? But what else would he have expected? Even though Gen noticed the miniscule lag of his worn-out muscles under the red Numbers weapon, Soushirou's attacks were just as lethal, and there was absolutely no way Gen would ever be one-upped by him of all people.
Falling deaf to Kurusu's endless warnings of overheat, he instead sent analytical data of that absolute monster. Hell, it was somehow worse than he thought. If it were anyone else but him, death would be the only possible outcome when it came to that kaiju. Everyone was relying on him and his eyes, on the information that only he, the great Narumi Gen, could provide— and with a spark of understanding, Gen charged at once.
The hit landed, but Gen didn't allow the surge of victory to spread. It was just the beginning after all.
With every successful blow, the eagerness to end things with the next grew sharply, more intense than Gen had ever felt in this lifetime. He wasn't even completely aware of the taunts he threw at Soushirou, as well as the biting words that were shot back at him, frustration and adrenaline fueling the scream scratching his throat as the two attacked. This was their last chance— no way in hell they were gonna screw this up. (If they did, then there was only one thing left for Gen to do: to bid for time, regardless of what he must pay.)
Gen was merely a few meters away from the kaiju when all of a sudden, blinding pain from the back of his head erupted while his vision bloomed red, sticky liquid bursting from his eyeballs and mouth. The taste of iron was disgusting as it dribbled down his scuffed face. Shit. Overheat, huh? "Heh..." Forcing his limbs that dared to relax for a second to stiffen, all while sending a look that practically screamed 'sorry not sorry' to the increasingly alarmed Soushirou, Gen took another step closer to death.
Control rejection.
A grin returned in full force regardless of the throbbing strain on his eyes, spreading towards each and every capillary of his, painful and stabbing. He sees— no, feels everything. An overload of information streamed into his probably frying brain, yet he needed more. More! Blood continued to gush out in spurts while RT-0001 glowed a green, inhuman swirl. Brighter and much more eerie in its vibrancy than before. From the briefest twitch of movement of that damned kaiju to its next course of action unseen by anyone but him (as well as the countless immobilizing strikes Soushirou made with his blades, entirely graceful despite the blood)— Gen saw it all, and needed more. He needed to steal more information. More time. They needed to win and Gen—
"You're crazy! That'll completely fry your brain!" crackled in his earpiece, to which Gen almost laughed at, almost. Perhaps he truly lost it.
"Fine by me!" And he wasn't lying.
Gen was the connection. He was the bridge, the one holding the baton that was about to be passed onto the next generation in any moment. But even if that moment was today, Gen refused to go down without a fight, without pressing his heels into the ground and screaming like a child. If he goes, he will go out like a star, collapsing with an explosion and leaving behind a supernova-sized crater on this very earth. If that was what it took to take this kaiju down, then so be it—!
One of its limbs pierced straight through his heart. His lungs too, maybe.
Stabbing pain, probably from all the cracked ribs swimming inside his chest, not to mention the gaping wound that was filling his throat with an endless supply of blood, made Gen lose all control of his body. Like a ragdoll, his entire body slumped as his bayonet slipped off of motionless hands, clattering against the rubble. It didn't help that all his focus was directed onto the man, the love of his life, that was just hurled hundreds of meters away from him. Gurgled laughter Gen could barely make caused more blood to trickle out. Even in death, Gen still couldn't get what he wanted?
The distance between them meant everything and nothing at the same time. Even as darkness crept from the corners of his vision, Soushirou's expression was as clear as ever— and more painful than any injury.
It was as though the Gods were finally merciful enough to slow down time, or maybe it was the other way around? Slow it down just enough so the pain could hit worse? Gen scoffed. Yet even such cruelty had its silver linings, one that shone upon Gen like a lone light in the middle of darkness.
Soushirou, Soushirou, Soushirou. Sou-shi-rou. The name tasted sweet amidst fresh blood. My dearest, my love, my everything. Why are you staring at me like that?
Oh, what Gen would do to wipe away those tears threatening to fall. To kiss him slowly with as much tenderness his weakening body could muster. To get rid of the lump of absolute dread in both those red eyes and his own throat.
The warmth pooling around the kaiju's limb and his erratic breathing that was growing more and more shallow by every second no longer meant anything to Gen. Neither did the limb that dug deeper into his wound, forcing another gust of blood out of him. It hurt. A guarded part of him would say that it was unbearable, but another part didn't even feel anything anymore. Huh. A weighted blanket must be covering him from head to toe, lulling him and pulling him down starting with the surface of his skin.
Ah, wait. Soushirou was trying to speak to him. He could see the way his pretty lips parted and closed even from a distance away, but why couldn't Gen hear anything? Oh... was he trying to come to him? Although most of Soushirou's signals were still strong, he could tell that he was heavily injured, entirely exhausted. Yet the desperation in his eyes... The urge to be in his boyfriend's arms was sudden and stronger than ever.
Gen tried to move, but that was when the kaiju turned to face him. Vertical runes took form before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it. A split second of silence made him notice the monstrous presence he had been waiting for, but this time, Gen knew deep in his bones that he was too far to get here in time. Out of all the potential futures, this was the outcome fate had chosen for him, huh?
It's okay. This world littered with kaiju will be alright without him. But there was only one thing he would regret, and Gen will curse all the Gods out there if they don't let him have this. Just this, just once. Please.
His sight was an absolute mess as everything but the approaching Soushirou blurred together into oblivion. Gen wished that he could make that expression on his beautiful face disappear.
"S... Soushi... rou, I love—"
Everything was gone.
01
ERROR
10
His everything was... gone. Just like that.
No, not gone. Gen was right in front of him— out of reach, and cut into two.
The ground Soushirou was standing upon seemed to tilt on its axis with every step he forced himself to take. Everything spun, bile rose, his ears rang with buzzing words he couldn't make out, his heart and lungs were about to be successful in its attempts to choke him, and everything was red. The red was— fuck, it was everywhere.
"Gen..." A strangled breath was squeezed out of him when he found himself dropping to his knees right by Gen's body (not a corpse. No, Ten, he's not a corpse). Even through his screaming metal suit, the crimson liquid burned into his skin like a brand— his legs, his shaking hands, all of it. And that wasn't even the worst part.
Vomit climbed up his throat as the smell of nauseating iron forced itself onto Soushirou even through the respirator, his eyes focusing just enough for the view of him to turn clearer. No, no. "Gen— Gen!" His voice cracked, entirely broken as he barely dragged himself closer.
"C- Captain Narumi has lost all vital signs! He’s—!”
Soushirou remained paralysed as he shook with cold sweat, hovering over the body that was split down the middle, right in half. Guts, all the different organs that seemed to fuse with one another, fractured bones, and litres of fresh blood spilled out of torn skin. It wasn't as though the sight of something like this was unfamiliar to him, but having those eyes that he loved so much stare at him so lifelessly, having them roll out of the remains of his head— Soushirou wanted to puke, to scream, to do anything but watch as his lover’s body break apart before his eyes. All while he kneeled helplessly over him.
What's even worse, much worse than the current state of Gen's body, was the fact that he smiled. The same smile, wide and all curled by the edges like a cat, that would be plastered on Gen's face after weeks of not seeing each other. Loud, radiant, happy, and the most beautiful thing Soushirou had seen throughout nearly three decades of his life. The remains of that smile sat on one half of his mutilated face, and that pained him more than any wound.
"Vice Captain Hoshina..."
Soushirou reached out to scoop Gen into his arms, the warmth from the blood burning every touch. He ignored how each half didn't stay together, how his body fell apart to reveal hues of red he never wanted to see. His barely complete heart, his punctured lungs, both his intestines, half of his literal brain came into view, a few falling onto Soushirou's arms before sliding off with a quiet squelch. "Okonogi-chan..." More and more tears welled, falling out of control with every ragged breath. "Tell me this isn't real."
The silence was damning.
"I'm sorry, Vice Captain..."
A wet chuckle left him like he was just punched in the gut. "Don't be." The whispered words had to be forced out amidst the scratchiness of his throat— had he been screaming at some point? Soushirou dropped his head to rest on Gen's collarbone as his arms tightened around him. If he closed his eyes and pretended, maybe this could be one of their lazy mornings. One where he'd wake up before Gen does and smile fondly at his drooling face. He'd watch as Gen pulled the blanket higher due to the missing warmth, laughing before they embraced with a content sigh. Or maybe this could be one of their midnight dates, where Soushirou would finally be free from duty and fall into open arms belonging to Narumi Gen, simply basking in solitude with only the sound of games and quiet curses breaking the silence.
The only difference would be the lack of hands pulling him close. The warmth as well.
His bottom lip trembled as he tried his damned hardest to prevent more tears from falling. No matter how much Soushirou wanted to let loose and break into pieces— he couldn't. Not when the enemy was still here, fighting against Kafka just a distance away from them. Not until Gen's murderer was killed for good.
An intense shockwave would have thrown Soushirou meters away if he hadn't dug his heels in at the very last second, clinging onto Gen for dear life. The ground broke apart in an instant, sending shrapnels and destruction throughout the entire area. Teeth gritting, Soushirou forced himself to stand regardless of his trembling legs, stumbling once as he adjusted his hold on Gen whose body was completely limp. (Shut up, Ten. Shut up.) He looked away. He couldn't look.
He had to move Gen to a safer area— after all, he'd rather die than allow his lover's body to be destroyed more than it already was. When the medics came in sight (just how much time had passed?), Soushirou's already tight grip turned up a notch when the evening sunlight caught Gen in its grasp, shining a cruel spotlight onto his open, misaligned body.
One of the cruelest parts of this was that his death wasn't even peaceful. Gen's life was ripped away from his hands like a bully would to a child's toy.
A single, jutting thought was all it took.
Soushirou gasped, ragged.
His breath got caught in his throat, spreading throughout his system to choke him from the inside. The sensation was gradual at first, a brief spark that lit Soushirou's insides starting from his chest. Then it spread, reaching into each and every crevice of his body— anger, grief, a concoction of all the ugly emotions Soushirou had ever suppressed exploded at once as his entire body stilled. A choked sound came out of Soushirou when he stared directly into Gen’s face, words of revelation ringing:
"I didn't even get to say I love you back."
Everything else blurred. By the time he came to himself, the battle was over. The entire city was in ruins, with members of the Defense Force running from one point to another to assess the sheer amount of damage. Soushirou looked down at himself, silently noting all the kaiju remains and dried blood (not his) covering him from head to toe.
"Vice Captain Hoshina— no." A voice behind him coughed. Soushirou didn't even look up. "Soushirou."
A few seconds went by before he greeted her, not an ounce of emotion present. "Captain."
Even without facing her, he knew that Mina was conflicted, hesitant about addressing the elephant in the room— yet the silence between them spoke volumes. Soushirou clenched his fists that were hanging by his side, nails digging into palms. Well, neither did he.
For once, he didn’t know what to do.
"You..." Her voice was quiet as she began, "You should get some rest." Mina paused as she looked him up and down. "And medical treatment."
"...Is that captain's orders?" Soushirou's words were supposed to fall out with jest, poking fun at the irony of that statement. It fell through just as quickly as it came out fragile. Soushirou exhaled— silent, heavy. "Okay."
He could've taken the chance to leave, but his feet remained frozen on the wreckage that was the ground. Raising his head once again, his gaze skimmed past the barren land, dropping when he realised that the only person he wanted to see wasn't there. All of his memories were fuzzy, but he recalled placing him down somewhere— where? Where did they take him? Soushirou wasn't able to stop the question from slipping out in time. "Where is he?"
The sound of hair swishing was her first response, then it was silent until she spoke up, reading his mind in an instant. "He should be in the medical bay, along with the fallen—" Mina immediately shut her jaw with a click. A quiet apology was made before she took a step closer. "...Let's get you patched up."
The silence was nauseating. But it was all he could give other than another barely held together "okay".
—
Soushirou wasn't quite sure what it meant to live anymore.
After he was discharged, all the passing days bled into one another— a never-ending cycle of waking up (that was, if he even slept) for work, training supervision, meetings, kaiju neutralization, and doing more paperwork. Admittedly, it wasn't much different from the days before No. 9's defeat, the only difference being how everyone around him seemed to walk on eggshells. Pitying stares, offers of taking over his work, telling him to take some time off, speaking to him like he was five and fragile. Soushirou would smile, always waving them off only to have them press further. He nearly snapped a number of times, and even then, the sight of a crack would only serve as fuel for more.
Only one day had broken this repetition and still it had gone by in a blur, with only a framed face latching itself onto his memories.
Soushirou attended the funeral as a soldier would for any other captains, yet he knew that every single pair of eyes bore into his back just as they did to the casket covered in flowers. Perhaps it was those endless looks of pity that allowed Soushirou to be in Ariake Maritime base instead of Tachikawa, to be only a few meters away from Gen instead of hundreds of kilometers away. Still, he hadn't said a word other than a nod when it was first brought up to him and Mina. The two knew that it wouldn’t make any difference.
Being close to him wouldn't bring him back.
Once the rifles went off and the rest of the service carried on, Soushirou slipped out of the crowd in an instant, evading all the constant "I'm sorry for your loss"-es and its various paraphrases with the expertise of a recon agent. Another second of going through that, whether genuine or simply for the sake of manners, would probably be fatal for anyone within striking distance.
Exactly one month had passed since one of the most destructive incidents in the history of Japan. Other than the billions of yen worth in infrastructure damage, as well as the hundreds of lives lost in battle, the loss of Narumi Gen loomed over Tokyo and the rest of Japan like a lingering storm— an aftermath of a hurricane. Though as time ticked on, cities were rebuilt, people picked themselves up. The world doesn’t stop for anyone, after all.
But it did for Soushirou.
It had been another one of his forced day offs when he found himself driving almost mindlessly. No matter how much Soushirou insisted that he was perfectly alright, a long, unconvinced stare from Mina was all he received, a deep frown tugging at her face. "This is an order, Vice Captain." She had said moments later. Soushirou sighed, planting his head onto the steering wheel.
She wasn't wrong, per se. The bags beneath his red eyes were practically jutting, all too prominent and prone to stares. He couldn't remember the last time he was fully rested, nor had he returned to his personal home since... some time ago. Maybe. Probably. Sleep only came to him when his body was at its limit, and even then he was always woken up one or two hours later by the memory of unsightly red and a moving mouth, soundless.
Soushirou huffed out a chuckle, though it sounded more like the beginning of a sob. Huh, that's new. He hadn't cried once since that day. Everything within him had dried up and flew out of his grasp, he's sure, leaving behind only a perpetually tightening feeling in his chest. His fingers curled around the wheel, pain prickling on his palm. Gen... If only he had been closer, maybe he could've heard the words he wanted to listen to so badly. Soushirou missed his voice, missed him, terribly so. The emptiness ached.
He remained hunched for a few minutes or so, simply dragging in air until a blaring honk shocked him out of his wits, his head bumping into the top of the wheel. Groaning at the pain on his forehead, Soushirou forced his eyes back on the road before freezing.
The streets no longer belonged to Tachikawa. Dry laughter rumbled in his chest when he spotted the glittering ocean in the distance, the summer sky bright and glistening. Somehow, without even realising, Soushirou had driven himself all the way to Ariake— just how out of it was he? Not only that, if he's reading the GPS correctly, the beach they were planning to visit should be near too. Of course. Soushirou laughed, hoarse. Of course it was.
A deep, drawn out sigh filled in the silence, which was then rudely interrupted by another chorus of honking. Well, it was his fault for not moving at the green light, so off he went.
With every passing minute and diminishing distance to the beach, a weight gradually pressed onto his shoulders, chipping them light enough to be unnoticeable, yet an abundance of it could very well be the end of him. Soushirou hadn't realised how heavy it was when the car door clicked shut, still unknowing even as legs replaced by lead dragged him to shore. (Would he drown if he stepped into the sea?)
Salty breeze tousled purple hair that was already messy from fingers raking through them a while ago. The beam of the evening sun glittered against waves, the sound of its calm crashing his only company. It was just as peaceful as he thought it'd be. More than that, maybe, if he was feeling generous. Shifting his weight onto one leg, Soushirou was all too aware of the sensation of sand being pressed down beneath the soles of his boots, a slight crackle made with each twitch. One step and another, followed by a few more, led him to the line that warned him of lapping water.
Soushirou bent down, carefully untying his shoelaces and setting his combat boots right behind the border of wet sand. He paused at the first step, surprise flickering at the tingling cold on the base of his feet. His expression smoothed instantly with the next step, entirely blank even when low tides began to lap at his ankles. The water enveloping him was cold at first, the vague beginnings of warmth ripped away as soon as it even attempted to settle. Then, a gust of wind came, sending a chill up his spine right after.
Unclenching his hands and folding them together behind him, Soushirou halted once the water was deep enough to splash the hem of his pants. The chill soon subsided as his gaze fixed itself onto the foam that bubbled against skin, the clear waves that flowed past him as though he were nonexistent, carrying sand and seashells that would occasionally graze him.
Soushirou lifted one leg by a few inches, splashing the water with a kick to make an arc half of his height. They trickled back onto the shore with rhythmic pattering, ripples spreading and interfering with one another.
...He wondered, during those very last seconds that happened all too quickly, had Gen seen a future where he survived? Or perhaps one where time ticked on slower, faster?
One salty breath, and another. Soushirou kicked the water again, harder. The water flew further this time, and Soushirou could almost see the way Gen's face would contort in annoyance when it splashed onto him, egging Soushirou on to make those magenta eyes focus on him and him only, no matter if they narrowed out of anger or widened from surprise.
If Kafka had been five seconds faster, maybe Gen would be here shrieking at the sudden cold shower, glaring at Soushirou who would point at him and laugh as he held his hurting stomach. If No. 9 had been five seconds slower, maybe Gen would be taking his revenge on him right now, splashing more water onto Soushirou with that challenging smirk of his.
No, that wasn't right.
If Soushirou had been more competent, maybe right now he'd be dodging the blow of water, dragging his arm through the sea to drench Gen with a counterattack. If Soushirou had been faster, maybe Gen would be avoiding it just as easily, looking less like a displeased wet cat and more like a predator closing in on its prey. If Soushirou had been closer to him, maybe then they could both feel the way waves would crash into their feet without restraint, the sensation of hair being caught by the salt-laden breeze, as well as the setting sun's warmth on their skin.
And if fate hadn't been so cruel to them, maybe Soushirou wouldn't have fallen onto the shore alone. Instead he would pull Gen down with him, laughing loudly at his startled expression as they wrap their arms around each other during the fall, the back of his purple hair drenched yet it wouldn't matter with the love of his life in his arms.
You would still be here with me. Soushirou reached into the sky, grasping at nothing. Water sloshed by his ears, soaking the uniform he hadn't bothered to take off. His hand dropped to his side with a plop! If only.
Despite everything, all those what if-s were useless when there was nothing he could do about it anymore. Always fatal in their line of duty, but it was all Soushirou could think about as a particularly large wave crashed over his face. For a second, he wondered what would happen if he just... let go. If he didn't hold his breath. Would it fill the hole in his chest? (No, never. Only one thing— one person could, Soushirou knew too well.)
Soushirou didn't know how long he spent simply lying on the floor of the beach, unfeeling of how his skin was pruning, of the notion that if he stayed here any longer, alternating between being engulfed by seawater and being exposed to the breeze, he'd get sick.
Gen would yell at me if he saw this. That thought forced a small, humorless chuckle out of him. Soushirou covered his eyes with an arm, the chill doing nothing to soothe his heavy eyes. Maybe if he waited longer, Gen would come and drag his ass back home, drying his hair while muttering endless complaints and insults of how stupid he was.
He should've recorded more of Gen's voice.
A quiet tune, muffled by fabric, tore through whatever atmosphere he had built for himself. Soushirou sat up, digging into his pocket for the phone that somehow survived through all that water. Ignoring the sound of saltwater steadily dripping from his hair, Soushirou stared, silent, at the contact name flashing on the screen. A First Division Operator? Their leader, no less? Without thinking further into the matter, Soushirou answered the call.
"Vice Captain Hoshina here. Is there anything I can do for ya?" It's a wonder how his voice remained steady despite the consequences of the cold finally creeping up on him.
"Vice Captain Hoshina," Kurusu Akira's polite voice rang. "I apologise for interrupting your day off. Are... Are you currently busy?"
Soushirou slightly lolled his head down, huffing. If only you knew. "Nah. I'm rather bored out of my mind, ya see. So? Does the First Division have any business with me?”
"I assure you that it's nothing urgent, sir." The reply came quick, but the way he trailed off into hesitation unsettled him enough to pull his knees closer, back straightening. "...We've just been reorganising all the information we've collected regarding the No. 9 incident, including files and recordings throughout the entire timeline."
Brows furrowed, Soushirou frowned, ignoring the slightest feeling of something forming in the pit of his stomach. "Is there anythin' specific I haven't reported on?"
"Oh, no, not at all, sir!" Kurusu cleared his throat, the sound of keyboards clicking audible in the line. "What I'm trying to say is that... we just organised a few recordings— audio recordings, to be exact. Ones made during the battle with the Meireki kaiju. I wanted to ask you, Vice Captain Hoshina, if you'd like to listen to them. After all..."
He didn't need to hear what Kurusu was about to say to know what he meant. Soushirou stilled.
With a hitching breath, small enough to be unheard by the other end of the line, the hand holding his phone began to shake. A weight settled itself within his insides, tugging at the nerves that surrounded it and tightened around his windpipe. That means...
"I..." Soushirou had never heard his voice come out so quavering and weak. "I'd like that. Thank you."
"It's the least I can do." It sounded as though he wanted to say something else, the tinge of regret beneath his voice too familiar, yet the quiet took over instead. Kurusu spoke up a few beats later, "I'll send them to your email as soon as possible, Vice Captain."
"Right. I’ll be waitin’, then." But before he ended the call, Soushirou muttered with genuine gratitude in his voice, head resting on his knees. "Thank you.”
After a click sounded, the invisible mass remained on his shoulders, heavier than ever at that very moment. A sensation similar to relief was present too, but he didn't dare to allow himself to indulge in it. Soushirou pulled his knees closer, wind piercing past his clothing.
Barely a tinge of orange was left in the sky when his phone vibrated, to which Soushirou immediately shot towards like it was his lifeline. (Well, in a way, it was.) It took a few frustrating attempts to unlock his phone, too shaky or too wet for the screen to recognise. He paused, forcing in a deep, strangled breath before finally swiping it open.
The files were abundant in amount— thorough and well organised despite that. It wasn't anything less than he had expected, as this was the First Division's work after all, the strongest division of the Defense Force. Soushirou scoffed. Gen would've loved to hear him of all people saying that.
Steadily, one by one, Soushirou went through each and every one of the recordings. He wasn't sure how long it took, but with each second of Gen's voice echoing in the silence, more and more cracks formed on the thick shell of his chest. He remained silent throughout it all— throughout the calm explanation of the range of his abilities during his fight against No. 11, the annoyed and snarky remarks Gen had thrown at him during the battle, the screams of pure adrenaline and fighting determination that mirrored Soushirou's own, and... and—
Soushirou had reached the end, clinging to the very last seconds of the recording with the intensity of a starved man. His fingers tightened around the device.
"S... Soushi... rou, I love—"
At 21:28, on Odaiba beach in Ariake, Koto Ward, Tokyo, Hoshina Soushirou broke.
Streams of tears dripped onto the body of water, soundless until a choked gasp ripped through the air. It was the start of a broken choir made up of erratic heaving and child-like sobbing that spoke of a million things at once, endless and painfully ugly yet appearances were the last thing he had in mind. Not just his thoughts, but oxygen seemed to have abandoned him too.
"I—" Soushirou hiccuped. All the bodily sensations, whether external or internal, overwhelmed him just as much as the unfinished words that echoed and echoed and echoed. The telltales of 'you' that couldn't be said in time hurt more than he thought was humanly possible. "I love you too, dammit. Damn you, Gen. Come back to me so I can say it straight to your face."
The phone dropped onto his lap as he reached into the necklace tucked inside his shirt— a dog tag with the name Narumi Gen engraved on it. The cold metal stung against his skin, digging into his palms. Words now indecipherable spilled out of his mouth as quickly as his own arms that slithered around himself, wishing that it were the arms of another. Perhaps they were, if he shut his eyes tight enough.