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It was a crisp, late January afternoon in the First Division headquarters. Light snow dusted the training grounds outside, and the heating system hummed comfortably. Captain Narumi Gen had received a massive pile of gifts for Christmas, and had complained when Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro's pile turned out to be twice as large. Hoshina had consoled him, by asking for "advice" on anime befitting a Captain's taste. Narumi had eagerly complied, along with an offer to watch his most favorite movie on New Year's Eve.
Hoshina had jumped on the offer, as casually as he could. Narumi had spent the entire night pointing out continuity errors in the movie, and how he'd have written the lore. Hoshina had left, thoroughly annoyed, after Narumi couldn't answer the question 'Why do ya even like this thing if ya think it's so shit?!'.
Several days had passed. And today, Hoshina, unfortunately, was not having a good day.
A brutal kaiju skirmish two days ago had left him with a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs, and a sling that he hated with every fiber of his being. The doctors had ordered strict rest. Hoshina, being Hoshina, had interpreted that as "light paperwork and walking around like nothing happened."
Big mistake.
He stood in his private bathroom, trying to wash his face with one functional arm. The sling made everything awkward. He shifted his weight, stepped on a patch of water that had dripped from the sink earlier, and his foot slipped.
Hoshina crashed down hard on his tailbone. White-hot pain exploded up his spine and into his injured shoulder. A raw, involuntary yowl tore out of his throat.
"Fuck--!"
The corridor outside was empty. No aides, no officers, no one. Just him on the cold tile floor, pride bruised more than his body. Only one person was within shouting distance.
Hoshina gritted his teeth, breathing through the pain. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"CAPTAIN!"
No response. Hoshina tried once again.
"NARUMI!"
Still nothing. Perhaps dying on the bathroom floor would be better than shouting again for--
"GEN!"
Silence. Hoshina waited a full minute, teeth still grit, face burning with humiliation.
Footsteps finally approached, and stopped right in front of his door. With a polite knock, Narumi's rang out, cheerful and oblivious, "Yo, Hoshina? You called?"
Hoshina glared at the ceiling. "Open the door."
Narumi paused. "But it's your dorm."
"ENTER THE DAMN DORM!!"
The door clicked open. Narumi stepped inside, still in his casual captain's jacket, white bangs perfectly tousled. "Where are you?"
"Bathroom," Hoshina growled.
"Should I come later--"
"GET IN HERE!"
Narumi rushed in, nearly tripping over the doorframe in his haste. He froze. His proud, deadly vice captain sprawled on the bathroom floor like a discarded action figure, one arm in a sling, face twisted in pain and fury.
Narumi blinked. "You're... on the floor."
"Brilliant observation, Captain."
"You slipped?"
"Yes."
Narumi glanced around. "You lack a bath mat--"
"PICK ME UP."
"Don't yell at me!" Narumi protested, but he was already crouching down. With surprising gentleness, he slid one arm under Hoshina's back and the other under his knees, lifting him like he weighed nothing. Hoshina hissed sharply as the movement jarred his shoulder.
"Easy," Narumi muttered. He carried Hoshina out of the bathroom and carefully set him on the edge of the bed. "What the hell happened? You're supposed to be resting."
"I was resting. Gravity had other plans." Hoshina winced, trying to adjust his sling. "We need to get to the hospital."
Narumi reached for the room phone. "I'll call the ward--"
"No. The one in Shibuya. They have my full history and the latest scans."
Narumi paused. "I'll call an ambulance then."
Hoshina grabbed his sleeve with his good hand, grip surprisingly strong. "No ambulance. You have to take me. The pain's getting worse and I don't wanna wait."
Narumi stared at him. "I need to... drive?"
"Yes."
A long, awkward silence stretched between them. Narumi scratched the back of his neck. "My car's in repair. I don't drive the Force's garage scrap, you know that."
Hoshina looked like he was debating committing murder with one arm. "Captain. Please. For once, stop being you and help me."
Narumi's usual cocky grin faltered. For once, he looked a little guilty. "Alright, alright. Hold on."
He helped Hoshina stand, letting the vice captain lean most of his weight on him. They moved slowly out of the room and down the corridor. Every step made Hoshina's face tighten with pain, though he tried to hide it.
Officers they passed did double-takes. The strongest captain in Japan was half-carrying his vice captain like a worried boyfriend. Whispers followed them immediately.
"Should I get a wheelchair?" Narumi asked.
"Too slow."
"You're stubborn as hell when you're hurt, you know that?"
"Look who's talkin'," Hoshina shot back. "Mr. 'This isn't a cold, it's strategic weakening.'"
Narumi had the decency to look embarrassed. "That was different."
They reached the garage. Narumi eyed the rows of vehicles like they were hostile kaiju. He eventually picked the least intimidating black SUV -- one of the division's standard-issue vehicles.
"You sure you can drive this?" Hoshina asked as Narumi helped him into the passenger seat.
"How hard can it be? It's not a tank. Tanks don't have cup holders."
Hoshina closed his eyes and prayed to whatever gods protected vice captains from their captains' stupidity.
The first five minutes of the drive were... educational. Narumi lurched the car forward like it had personally offended him. The SUV jerked, stalled once at the gate, then shot out onto the road with all the grace of a startled cat.
"Captain,” Hoshina said through gritted teeth, "the brake and accelerator are different pedals."
"I know that!"
Narumi corrected course. Sort of. The car swerved gently as he overcompensated. "This is fine. I'm adapting. I once piloted my combat suit with 87% damage while fighting two Honju at once. This is nothing."
A truck honked. Narumi honked back enthusiastically. Hoshina groaned and pressed his head against the window. "If I die in a car accident after surviving a kaiju, I'm haunting you."
"You're not dying. I won't allow it." Narumi's voice lost its usual bravado for a second. "Not on my watch."
The car fell quiet except for the occasional startled honk from other drivers. Hoshina watched Narumi's hands on the wheel -- tense, over-correcting, but focused. The captain kept glancing sideways, checking on him.
They reached the Shibuya hospital after what felt like an eternity of near-misses and creative traffic violations. Narumi parked... decently. He helped Hoshina out, once again supporting most of his weight as they walked into the emergency wing.
The admitting nurse recognized him immediately. "Vice Captain! What happened this time?"
"Slipped in the bathroom," Hoshina said flatly.
Narumi helpfully added, "He lacks a bath mat."
Hoshina elbowed him with his good arm.
While the nurses prepped a room for scans and pain management, Narumi hovered. He paced. He complained about the waiting room chairs. He demanded updates every three minutes. When they finally wheeled Hoshina toward the examination area, Narumi followed right behind.
"You don't have to stay," Hoshina said.
“Like hell I’m leaving. Who else is going to make sure they give you the right painkillers?”
"You're really bad at this," Hoshina muttered.
"I'm doing it, aren't I?" Narumi replied. Then, quieter: "You called for me. Not anyone else."
Hoshina didn't answer right away. Pain throbbed in his shoulder and tailbone, but something warmer bloomed in his chest.
"You're the only one I trust not to make it worse," he finally admitted.
Narumi's ears went slightly red. "Tch. Obviously. I'm the strongest."
"Strongest driver of tanks, apparently."
"Shut up."
Hoshina snorted despite the pain. "Idiot."
"Your idiot," Narumi said without thinking. Then he froze. "I mean-- your captain. Obviously."
The nurses pretended not to hear anything.
As they disappeared behind the curtain, Narumi called after him, "Don't slip again while I'm not there to catch you!"
"Shut up and go buy me decent coffee, Captain."
"I am more of an expert with tea--"
"Oh, go away."
Narumi grinned, wide and relieved. "Perfect tea. Promise."
---
Later that evening
Hoshina was settled in a private room, shoulder re-examined and painkillers finally kicking in. Narumi sat in the chair beside the bed, legs kicked up, playing a game on his phone with the volume low.
Hoshina watched him through half-lidded eyes.
"...Thanks. For driving."
Narumi didn't look up. "Don't mention it. Ever. To anyone."
A comfortable silence stretched between them.
Hoshina closed his eyes, the faintest smile on his lips. The roles had flipped, but somehow they still fit - messy, stubborn, and undeniably theirs.
---
The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the blinds. Narumi was sprawled in the uncomfortable armchair, hair messy, one leg dangling over the armrest. He'd stayed the entire night -- "just in case," he'd told the nurses. In reality, he hadn't been able to make himself leave.
A soft, sleepy groan came from the bed.
Hoshina blinked slowly, eyes glassy and unfocused from the strong painkillers they'd pumped into him overnight. His sling was still on, but his usual sharp expression had melted into something almost... dopey. The vice captain looked adorably out of it.
Narumi sat up. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty. How's the tailbone?"
Hoshina stared at him for a long moment, processing. Then a slow, loopy grin spread across his face.
"You stayed..." he mumbled. "Narumi Gen slept in my room. Heh."
"Don't make it weird," Narumi said, cheeks warming. "You were high as a kite and complaining about the ceiling tiles being 'too judgmental.'"
Hoshina giggled - actually giggled - and tried to sit up. He immediately winced. "Hungry. Captain. Breakfast."
"I'll call the nurse-"
"No. Real breakfast. You have to get it." Hoshina's eyes sparkled with drugged mischief. "Shibuya. Go."
Narumi sighed but stood up anyway. "Fine. What do you want?"
"Something warm. Noodles. Perfect noodles."
Thirty minutes later, Narumi returned with a carefully selected bowl of ramen from a highly-rated shop nearby. He set it on the tray table with pride.
Hoshina poked at it suspiciously, still very loopy. "Are these noodles made of proper Hokkaido flour?"
Narumi stared. "...What?"
"Hokkaido flour. The good one. These look... suspicious." Hoshina took a slurpy bite and hummed. "Broth. Is the broth made of Kamebishi soy sauce? Real Kamebishi?"
"I don't know, Hoshina. It's ramen.”
"Wrong." Hoshina pouted. An actual pout. "Go again."
Narumi threw his hands up. "You're impossible even when drugged!"
But he went anyway. After another forty-five minutes, he returned with a second attempt sourced from a different shop.
Hoshina inspected the new bowl like a sommelier. “Vegetables. Are they from Kyoto?”
"Why the hell would they be from Kyoto?!"
"Kyoto vegetables taste better," Hoshina declared with complete confidence. "Go get Kyoto vegetables, Captain. That's an order."
Narumi grumbled the entire way out. "I fight kaiju for a living... and now I'm a delivery boy for a loopy vice captain..."
By the fourth attempt - after running across half of Shibuya, sweet-talking (read: bribing) three different restaurants, and confirming with one very confused chef that yes, the vegetables were sourced from Kyoto - Narumi finally returned victorious and sweating.
He set the bowl down with a triumphant flourish. "There. Hokkaido flour noodles. Kamebishi broth. Kyoto vegetables. Hand-delivered by the strongest soldier in Japan. You'd better appreciate this."
Hoshina took a big bite, eyes fluttering happily. For a moment he looked blissful.
Then he giggled again. "It's cold."
Narumi's eye twitched. "You're dead to me."
Hoshina laughed louder, swaying a little in bed. "Warm it up, Captain~ You're so good at this."
---
The torture continued well into the afternoon.
Hoshina sent Narumi on three more ridiculous errands: specific brand of soft socks ("the ones that don't judge my feet"), a particular herbal tea ("exactly 63 degrees, good!"), and one montblanc because "my mouth feels lonely."
Each time Narumi returned, Hoshina would inspect the item with glassy-eyed seriousness, make one tiny complaint, then smile like a cat that got the cream when Narumi actually fixed it.
By evening, the doctors cleared Hoshina for discharge with strict instructions and more painkillers.
"Time to go home," Hoshina announced, still floating on medication. "You're driving again."
Narumi paled. "Can't we get an ambulance this time?"
"No. Captain drives. Captain takes care of me." Hoshina reached out with his good arm and made grabby hands. "Let's go."
The drive back to the First Division base was slightly less catastrophic than the day before. Narumi was getting the hang of the "scrap car", though he still treated stoplights like enemy targets. Hoshina spent most of the ride humming old songs and occasionally poking Narumi's arm.
"You're cute when you concentrate," Hoshina mumbled.
"Shut up."
"Cute and strong. My strong captain."
Narumi's ears burned red the rest of the way.
---
Back at Hoshina's quarters on base, the real trouble began.
Narumi helped him inside, supporting most of his weight. The bedroom was neat and minimalist, very Hoshina. A blanket much like the one Narumi had once used during his own sickness all those weeks ago lay folded on the mattress.
"Get me into bed," Hoshina said, voice syrupy with painkillers.
Narumi helped him sit on the edge of the mattress.
Hoshina giggled again. "Captain has to get me into bed... Hehe. How the turn tables."
"It's 'how the tables have turned,'" Narumi corrected, pulling the covers back.
"Turn tables," Hoshina insisted, looping his good arm around Narumi's neck. He tugged. Hard.
Narumi lost balance and toppled forward, catching himself with hands on either side of Hoshina's head. Their faces were suddenly inches apart.
Hoshina's eyes, hazy but bright, stared up at him.
"Look at you..." he whispered. "Tables hath now turned."
Before Narumi could respond, Hoshina craned his neck and planted a big, sloppy, enthusiastic kiss right on Narumi's lips.
It lasted maybe four full seconds - warm, uncoordinated, and tasting faintly of chestnut cream.
Then Hoshina sighed happily, released his grip, and passed out cold, a contented smile on his face.
Narumi stayed frozen above him, eyes wide, brain blue-screening. He slowly pulled back, one hand coming up to touch his lips, then rubbing his cheek like he could erase the memory. His heart hammered harder than it did during kaiju battles.
"What the hell was that...?" he whispered.
He stared at the sleeping vice captain for a long minute. Hoshina looked peaceful. Almost soft.
Narumi's brain offered three options:
Option A: Never bring it up again. Pretend it never happened. Professional distance.
Option B: Ask about it tomorrow when he's sober.
Option C: Panic.
He chose A, and then immediately settled on a mix of B and C.
Narumi gently lifted Hoshina's knees and placed a rolled up blanket underneath them, so the weight wouldn't be on his tailbone. He added a spare pillow to support the injured arm, then pulled another blanket from the closet and tucked it around him. Sighing, he retreated to the living room and sighed. "Smaller room and couch. Vice captain's privilege, I guess..."
He lay down on the too-small couch, legs dangling off the end. As he pulled a woolen shawl over himself, a small, stupid smile crept onto his face.
He touched his lips again, cheeks warm.
"Idiot..." he muttered affectionately, glancing at the bedroom door.
Narumi Gen fell asleep smiling, the taste of chestnut cream and unexpected victory lingering.
---
Morning After
Hoshina woke up with a clear head, a sore body, and vague memories of running Narumi ragged across Shibuya. He sat up slowly, blinking at the ceiling. He could hear faint snoring coming from the direction of the living room. Narumi was still there, legs dangling, looking ridiculously content for someone sleeping on a too-small couch.
Hoshina's face slowly turned red as fragmented memories returned - grabby hands, "how the turn tables," and...
"Oh no."
He pulled the blanket over his own head. A muffled, mortified groan escaped from underneath it.
In the living room, Narumi stirred on the couch, still smiling in his sleep.
The tables, it seemed, had very much turned.