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Ariake Base, Koto City (Tokyo)
29.08.2021
2 months since the activation of RT-0001.
6 months since Narumi Gen joined the 1st Division.
*
Itami Keiji enjoyed chess for the ceremony of it. Two friends and their whiskeys - neat for Keiji, on the rocks for Isao - and the unhurried drag of a game both men already knew the outcome of. Keiji was an excellent friend but deeply boring opponent: he didn’t care about winning, so he never did. It was frustrating.
Keiji looked up at him, a knowing smile sat snug on his face. “Don’t be childish, Isao. You’re well past the age of endearing competitiveness.”
“I should have you do push ups for that,” Isao grumbled.
Keiji’s smile suited him. Wry and light and, it sat comfortably the lines of his face - lines that had not been there when he and Isao had first met in basic training. “Surely you wouldn’t be so cruel to an old man, Captain?”
“You’re hardly older than I am.”
“You’re an old man too, Isao.”
Isao ignored him and moved his bishop to d5. Keiji ignored that and leaned back into his plush velvet armchair - dark green, high-backed and far too ostentatious for Isao’s liking. He’d meant to have these damned chairs replaced with more practical ones years ago, but more pressing tasks always stole his attention away until his and Keiji’s next game. The senior break room was softly lit, unlike the rest of Ariake, and outfitted in a style that had been trendy when Isao was still a teenager. Its dark wood panelling was uncomfortably claustrophobic. The delicate filigree on the light fittings made a mockery of the Defence Force’s otherwise carefully budgeted accounts.
Just another reminder of how badly the Force needed reform.
He glanced up from the board to Keiji, who wasn’t even looking. “Your move.”
His Vice-Captain didn’t respond. He was staring through the rain-streaked windows, relaxed in a way most Force veterans could only dream of. Isao wondered where the man found the strength. “What are you thinking about, Keiji?”
“Kikoru.”
Isao stiffened. “Why?”
“It’s her birthday soon, isn’t it? I’m a little unsure of what to get her. I don’t know enough about ten- well, soon eleven - year-old girls, I don’t mind saying.”
Neither do I. “She would prefer something practical. I believe.”
Keiji gave a light laugh. “She would, or you would?”
A softer man might have flinched at that. A man like Isao might instead take an inadvisably large gulp of whiskey. It burned on the way down but tempered the guilt that always sat coiled in his gut like a noose. Kikoru would prefer something practical because Isao had taught her so. Because practicality would keep her safer than any doll or dress. “Perhaps some ankle weights,” Isao suggested, “or a new pair of sparring gloves.”
“Those are both terrible ideas, Isao.”
He was aware. “What would you suggest then, Vice-Captain?”
Keiji sighed, swirling his glass in favour of moving a chess piece. “Dinner for two at a slightly-above-average restaurant. Nothing too fancy. Relaxed. Cozy.” He fixed Isao with a knowing and slightly reproachful look. “So that you two can actually spend some time together, and you can get out of your damn office.”
The nerve of this man. “My work is important, Keiji, as you well know,” Isao scowled. He glanced at the board, dodging Keiji’s gaze. Mate in five. Eight, if his friend bothered to put up a fight. “But I…will keep that in mind. It’s a good idea.”
Keiji nodded. A silence stretched between them, sticky with love and judgement and thirty years of friendship. His friend was right, Isao knew. Hikari would be furious at him if he missed Kikoru’s birthday. Again.
If she was even watching. If she hadn’t already turned away in disgust.
God, this was unbearable. “Play the damn game, Keiji.”
“Find someone else to play with. Your little protege, perhaps.”
“Not likely. He would never pay attention for long enough.”
Keiji gave another wry smile. He had the kind of face that always looked like he knew too much about you, and found that very funny. “He would if you asked him to,” he said. “The boy actually listens to you.”
Isao huffed. “Sometimes.”
“That’s more than the rest of us get.”
That much was true. Narumi was incorrigible, difficult on the best of days and an active managerial threat on the worst. It had taken every ounce of Isao’s good name, every minute of his decades of work, to prevent the brass from throwing the boy from the Force for good. It had been an easy choice despite all that. Narumi was a talent they could not afford to give up.
Keiji still hadn’t moved. “Do you resign?” Isao grunted, doing his best to keep the childish surlyness from his voice.
“How kind of you to ask, Isao.” Keiji tilted his head in a mock bow. “Indeed I do.”
He left Isao to tidy the chess set alone. It was a gorgeous set, commissioned for Isao’s 21st birthday by his father: lacquer and ivory, beautifully carved and with enough heft to kill a man. Polished and unchipped, it was usually kept locked in Isao’s desk drawer - an indulgence, and an admission to leisure that made Isao glad that, if there were such a thing as ghosts, he could not see them. The thought of meeting her eyes as he sat relaxed and at rest…
…And yet…
Isao returned the set to the table. Perhaps it would serve the Force better as public property. Chess was a strategic game, after all. Perhaps some of his…younger officers…could benefit from playing now and again.
Yes, that was reasonable.
*
It took fewer than 14 hours for Narumi to find the set. Isao should’ve expected as much, nevermind that the boy was supposed to be running drills with Platoon Leader Ita, or that the senior break room was strictly off-limits to him. Since activating RT-0001, the boy had become even more partial to dimmer, quieter spaces, and he had always been partial to breaking rules.
His posture, Isao mused, was as poor as ever, spine curled almost into a circle as he hunched in a chair over his handheld console. He’d kicked his feet up onto the chair next to him, boots sank deep into the velvet. Uncouth, but not worth Isao’s attention. Deep shadows hugged the skin beneath Narumi’s eyes and he was steadily chewing his lip to shreds. His hair was a mess.
Not a proud sight. But he had only one concern worth voicing. “Narumi.”
Narumi grunted in response, eyes still glued to his console.
“How will you compensate for missing afternoon drills?”
“Night practice.”
So the boy was in an agreeable mood. On his more temperamental days he spewed insults, not answers. Perhaps now was a good time, then.
Or perhaps you are a lonely, desperate old man seeking companionship and calling it training.
“Very well,” Isao said, taking a seat opposite Narumi. The boy’s gaze flickered, catching Isao’s stare for just a moment before snapping back to his game. Isao didn’t understand these sorts of games, which only fueled his strong distaste for them. The flashing lights, the exaggerated sounds of battle, the poor graphics - it was all so jarring. How Narumi could despise bright lighting but stare at his screens for hours was a mystery.
Isao crossed his arms. The tall grandfather clock at the other end of the room ticked obnoxiously.
Narumi’s boots squeaked as he adjusted them against the chair’s armrest. His eyes darted to Isao and away again, flickering with RT-0001’s light. So he was still wearing the lenses then, despite the late hour.
Isao uncrossed his arms.
They hadn’t spoken in a while. Maybe a month, or just under. Not since Isao had snapped at the boy not to waste his Captain’s time showboating lacklustre achievements, to report to him only when he had significant results. Activating RT-0001 had been a major step forward, but only the first of many for a talent like Narumi. Isao could not let the boy distract himself - or distract Isao, for that matter - with the minor progress he had made since then. It was imperative that Narumi set his sights higher, always higher. He could reach those lofty heights, Isao knew it. This boy could outpace him, outpace Hikari, everyone, if he held onto discipline. He knew it.
But perhaps his words had been…a little harsh.
Damn that clock. As dated as the chairs, it had no place in a forward-facing Defense Force. And it was so loud.
Isao crossed his arms again. Narumi’s boots squeaked.
It was Narumi who eventually broke the silence. “What’s with that?” he grunted, jerking his head to the chess board. Isao had left it on a table in the corner, pieces set for a game.
“It is chess,” Isao answered.
Narumi rolled his eyes. “I know that, old man. What’s it doing here? Haven’t seen it before.”
“Have you ever played?”
He snorted, pointedly avoiding Isao’s gaze. “No. Looks boring.”
Then why are the pieces not arranged how I left them, soldier? Narumi had always been a terrible liar and, though the pieces were all in their assigned squares, Isao would never have left them haphazardly facing different directions like that. The boy’s curiosity would always win out - it was why Isao had left the board for him to find.
“It is far from boring, Narumi,” Isao began. “It is a game of strategy, battle planning and -”
Narumi yawned loudly, twisting away from Isao to hunch even closer to his game. “Yeah, crazy boring. I get all my strat practice from Zombieland 6, thanks, - which is so much cooler.”
Insolent brat. Keiji had clearly overestimated the boy’s receptiveness to Isao’s whims. Narumi was difficult. He was temperamental. On some days he was almost reasonable; on others he fought Isao on every detail, seemingly just on principle. Perhaps the boy’s mood wasn’t as agreeable as he’d first hoped.
No matter. Shinomiya Isao knew how to play - both the game in the corner and the boy in front of him.
“I am currently the undefeated chess champion of the 1st Division,” Isao said. “Can you win that title from me, Narumi?”
Narumi sprang to his feet like his chair was on fire, tossing his console without bothering to save his game progress. “Don’t act cocky, old man, I’ll bring fucking tears to your eyes.”
Isao fought the childish grin from his face. Now this was how an opponent should behave. Take notes, Keiji.
The two moved to sit at the chessboard, Isao taking a moment to straighten out every piece. They deserved that much, gorgeous as they were. Narumi’s sheepish fidgeting told him the boy knew Isao had surmised his curious inspection of the game. Isao ignored it - he’d achieved his objective, and there was nothing to gain from embarrassing Narumi further.
“This is your target: the king. Think of it as a breeding-type Honju - very little combat power, but the most important piece on the field regardless. It can move in any direction, but only one square at a time. The aim of the game is to trap your opponent’s king so they are in your pieces’ firing line and unable to escape. That is called checkmate.”
Narumi blinked. “Ok.”
“Now the other pieces.” Isao leaned forward, tapping his queen. “This is your queen, your aggressive Honju - the piece with the highest fortitude, as it were. She can move both diagonally and in straight lines across the board. She is the most powerful and mobile weapon you have.” An involuntary flash of Hikari in her suit, wings blazing across the sky and smile twice as dazzling, pulled Isao’s throat tight. God, he missed her.
Narumi didn’t seem to notice the tension in his frame, eyes fixed on the queen.
Objective-oriented.
Good.
Isao took him through the remaining pieces - rook, night, bishop and pawn. At the pawn’s description, Narumi frowned, distaste clear on his face. “Half the pieces all do the same thing? Seems kind of pointless. Why put your weakest pieces on the front lines? That just keeps the real fighters trapped.”
An observation both astute and naive; a combination that summed Narumi up to a tee. “Do not underestimate pawns, Narumi. They shape the battlefield and offer a defensive advantage most other pieces cannot.”
Narumi gave a disbelieving huff. “A real strategy game would give you chances to level-up and optimise in-field. No decent captain would walk into a battle with that many grunts.”
A surge of pride almost brought a smile to his face again, but Isao wrestled it down. He had no right to such feelings, not when they were dwarfed by the selfish excitement lighting up his veins. Narumi really could achieve captaincy one day. He had a good head on his shoulders, loathe as he was to use it most days. And that meant Isao’s transformation of the 1st Division was no distant dream, not anymore.
“You jump to conclusions, Narumi. Chess does offer such opportunities.”
“Yeah?”
“Indeed.” Isao dragged a pawn from his side of the board to Narumi’s. “If a pawn succeeds in crossing the entire board, you may convert it into any other piece. It can become a rook, knight, bishop or, most commonly, a second queen. Turning a pawn into a queen is called queening.”
Narumi’s lips twisted into a disbelieving grimace. “Queening? That’s such a shit fucking name.”
Oh. Isao quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”
Narumi’s giggle was uncharacteristically soft. “You don’t hear it? How dumb it sounds?”
“No.”
The giggle tripped into a full snort. “Of course, you don’t, old man. Bet you love queening out in secret. Or maybe queening in general.” Before Isao could ask what on earth that meant, the humour drained suddenly from the boy's eyes. “Actually, nevermind. I do not wanna think about you and queening.”
Young people and their new-fangled slang. The less Isao knew about it the better. “Fine. The general term is promotion. Focus on that.”
Narumi nodded vigorously. “That’s definitely better.”
Another few minutes of explaining castling, stalemates and gambits and Isao judged they were ready to play. Six tricky months in the 1st Division and a disastrous year in the 2nd had saddled Narumi with a reputation as a poor listener and all-round terrible student - a reputation of the fool’s own making, Isao knew. And yet here in the dark break room he absorbed it all like a flower after drought: quick, desperate and natural as breath. His eyes crackled with light as they darted from piece to piece, tongue trapped in a vice between his teeth.
It was damningly clear: Narumi wanted to be good at this. He wanted to win.
Good. Properly tended to, that hunger would scrape at his marrow until it clung to every organ, every thought, every breath. Isao would make sure of it.
A sudden image of Kikoru glaring at her algebra homework brought him up short. She and Narumi might have nothing in common, but their eyes held the same intensity. The same determination to dominate any challenge set before them.
Isao made a mental note to check his schedule, book time off. Perhaps make a dinner reservation.
“Who goes first?”
Ah. Yes. The game. “White. Your move.”
As with his games with Keiji, Isao knew victory was his before Narumi touched his first piece. Unlike those games, he found himself on the edge of his seat, blood thrumming every time Narumi made a particularly clever move. For a first game, he was doing incredibly well. When Isao quickly stole control of the centre, Narumi employed his knights and pawns to slip through. When Isao forced the boy to choose between saving his queen and a particularly well-positioned rook, Narumi pivoted strategy immediately, moving his bishops to cut through a line of pawns from behind. Not once did Isao have to go over the rules. Not once did Narumi falter over his pieces.The boy really was a prodigy.
Unfortunately for him, Isao was a prodigy too.
“Checkmate.”
“Fuck you, old man. Old-timer’s luck, or whatever.”
“Spare me your overblown tantrum,” Isao quipped, unable to hold back a smirk in the face of Narumi’s frustrated pouting. “Talk down to me after you win.” He blinked as Narumi whipped his phone from his pocket, typing furiously. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to beat your ass.” Narumi turned his phone, screen so dimmed that Isao could hardly make out the words. “Gimme three days and you’ll be fucking toast.”
Isao gave the boy a flat stare. “Chess.com? You believe you can defeat me with this drivel?”
“Just because it’s not ancient doesn’t mean -”
“Phone applications are designed to keep you looking at your screen - it is likely programmed to let you win fairly often to avoid disheartening you.”
Narumi’s velvet chair groaned as he slumped into it, rolling his eyes with enough force to sprain them. “You play against other people, you know, not just the app.”
“Be that as it may, you spend enough time staring at screens already. It will damage your eyesight.”
“Rich coming from you, four-eyes.”
Oh. Isao’s hand drifted to his face. He must have forgotten to remove his reading glasses. Not a mistake he made often, but after several tedious hours of staring down budget forms and battle reports it was only natural he would forget.
Kikoru had seen him wearing them only once. Why do you need them, Papa? she had asked, and Isao could not tell her that it was because his eyes were growing weaker, that he was growing weaker. So he told her to go back to bed and ask Sebasu what glasses were in the morning.
Another bit of parenting he had outsourced to his chauffeur.
“Why are you still wearing Retina One, Narumi?” Isao gritted out, resisting the urge to remove his glasses immediately. He refused to moderate his appearance for a boy who more often than not had at least three stains on his shirt. “They are not designed to be worn for long periods of time.”
Narumi’s scowl was instant. “I do what I want, old man, that’s why.”
This fool. “Narumi, you are Retina One’s first wielder - there is no precedent for this, no understanding of what prolonged contact with kaiju tissue will do to a human eye. Nor do we have treatments available should there be any side effects. Take them out.”
The thunk of Narumi’s heavy armchair hitting the floor might’ve made another man flinch, it happened so suddenly. Shinomiya Isao did not flinch, but even he could not help the way his hackles rose and senses sharpened. Kaiju eyes, warped and discoloured, glared at him from across the table. Stand ready, his instincts hissed, stand firm.
Even at his full height, Narumi barely stood higher than Isao’s seated bulk. His ridiculous two-toned hair flopped awkwardly over his forehead. An angry red pimple straddled the bridge of his nose. Such a gangly, inexperienced boy should not put Shinomiya Isao, Captain of the 1st Division, on edge. And yet something in the way those eyes fixated on Isao, the way the slitted pupils and unnaturally stretched irises looked so at home in this boy’s face, set every nerve in his battered body screaming.
RT-0001 suited Narumi. Those damningly inhuman eyes blended seamlessly into the rest of him as though they had always belonged there. What had they even looked like before? Only two short months since RT-0001 had been activated and Isao could not remember. Had they been brown, perhaps, before they were stained a garish pink? When was the last time the boy had taken them off?
“Asshole,” Narumi snarled, “do you want results or not?”
Ah. So this is my fault.
“Remove them, Narumi,” he ordered. “Results do not come from over-extending your resources, but from discipline and consistent application.”
“This is consistent application!” Narumi waved a hand over his face, eyes still sparkling with light. “Application doesn’t get more consistent than this.”
Isao resolutely ignored the crack in the boy’s voice. Again, he could not help but think of Kikoru, crestfallen but still stoic as he brushed off yet another perfect school report.
The noose coiled tighter.
I am not wrong, he thought desperately. I am doing what I must.
“This is desperation, Narumi,” he iced out. “Not discipline. Remove them.”
“No!”
Hikari would have done the same.
“Remove them now, or I will confiscate them.”
She said so, she said so herself.
Narumi swore. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled a small metal case from his overall pocket and flicked it open. It was almost comical, how much it looked like a mundane contact case. It was gunmetal grey, compact and containing a little mirror and small plastic plunger, which Narumi used to pluck the lenses from his eyes.
Such a devastating weapon in such an unassuming form.
“There,” Narumi grunted. “Happy now?” He would not meet Isao’s gaze.
“Wear them for no more than three hours a day,” Isao warned. “Any more than that, and I will put Retina One in Hasegawa’s care. Is that understood?”
Narumi rolled his eyes.
“Narumi.”
The boy huffed, snatching his console from the floor. “Yeah, ok. I get it.”
He trudged to the door, not bothering to right his chair or help tidy their game away. Isao did not like the defeated slump of his shoulders. Narumi did not give up after losing, had never once admitted permanent defeat, no matter how often Isao had publicly and humiliatingly outmatched him. Isao furrowed his brow. Why had this hit the boy so hard? The chess match had nothing to do with it, he was sure of that.
“Narumi,” he called out. Narumi paused by the door, hand on the handle. “I expect a rematch in three days. Make good on your threats.”
Narumi huffed again, but this time it sounded closer to a laugh. “Sure thing, old man,” he said, still facing the door. “Since you’re begging me.”
He still wouldn’t look at Isao, but his steps seemed lighter as he slouched down the hallway. Off to do some night practise, Isao assumed - though not with his lenses in.
Sighing, Isao began putting the chess set to rights. He had thought, perhaps foolishly, that playing with Narumi would leave him satisfied, and in a way he was. It had been a thrilling game, far more engaging than any with Keiji - the man only played along for Isao’s sake, after all. But his satisfaction felt incomplete, infected by a heaviness he had not anticipated. Something had gone wrong there, and Isao could not name it. Recalcitrant and volatile, Narumi was not an easy person to build a relationship with. While he might never understand him fully, Isao had hoped to make a step forward tonight and was unsure if he had succeeded. The boy might be a bad liar, but that did not make him an easy read.
At least you taught him chess, Isao reminded himself. You taught him chess and regulated his weapon usage. He’s stronger and better than he was this morning.
That had to count for something.
With the chess board reset, Isao moved to leave the break room, pulling his diary from his pocket and flipping through to September 7th. No major meetings that day - only a quick brief with the 1st’s Head of Operations to discuss the handover process for his successor, Akira Kurusu. That could easily be moved. He would ask Keiji for a restaurant recommendation and give Sebasu the day off; he would drive Kikoru there himself.
Isao was almost at his office doors when he remembered. Casting a glance over his shoulder to ensure he was alone, he pulled his telephone from his breast pocket. Google, he typed into the search bar, and then queening and queening out (youth slang term).
The website took a beat to load properly. Isao scrolled through the various definitions: flamboyant, submissive behaviour, or effeminate, overly excited behaviour and finally - oh.
Oh, Good lord.