"Not bad, kid. You've got spirit."
Kafka Hibino slapped Akira Kurogiri's shoulder with an easy grin, his laughter carrying through the Monster Sweeper locker room. The man's natural cheerfulness had long since made him everyone's favorite senpai, the type of person who turned even a graveyard shift into something bearable.
Akira managed a small smile. Inside, though, his thoughts churned. If even half the people here knew what kind of storm was about to hit this world…
The metallic clatter of a locker door interrupted his thoughts. A younger voice spoke up, hesitant but eager.
"Excuse me… is this where the cleanup crew gathers?"
All heads turned. At the doorway stood a boy with sharp eyes and neatly combed hair, no older than Akira himself. His posture was stiff, like someone who wanted desperately to prove he belonged.
Daisuke-san snorted, tugging on his gloves. "Another rookie? They're sending us kids every year now. What's your name, boy?"
The newcomer bowed politely. "Ichikawa Reno. I just got assigned today."
Akira's chest tightened. So it begins.
Kafka's grin widened as he stepped forward, clapping the boy on the back. "Welcome aboard, Ichikawa! I'm Kafka Hibino. That's Uncle De—don't let his bark scare you. And this here…" He gestured toward Akira. "…is Kurogiri. He'll look after you."
Reno glanced at Akira, eyes narrowing briefly in curiosity. Akira gave him a faint nod in return. Two rookies under one roof—the trio was set.
The crew's first task came quickly. A canine-type kaiju had rampaged through the district overnight, and the Third Division had put it down after a brutal fight. Now it was their turn to clean the aftermath.
As they arrived at the site, Akira spotted her—Mina Ashiro, striding at the head of her unit, the very image of composure. Behind her, Vice-Captain Soshiro Hoshina leaned lazily on his sheathed sword, his half-closed eyes betraying nothing. The Third Division passed them by, their uniforms pristine despite the blood still steaming on the ground.
For just a moment, Kafka's eyes lingered on Mina's retreating form. His jaw set with a quiet ache.
Akira turned away, heart twisting faintly. That look… he hasn't let go of their vow, not even after all these years.
"Eyes front, Kurogiri," Daisuke grumbled, snapping him back. "We've got work to do. That corpse won't carve itself."
The kaiju was a grotesque sight up close—a mutated Tibetan mastiff, its fur matted with concrete dust, its muzzle frozen in a snarl that had once leveled buildings. Even in death, its massive fangs gleamed like ivory spears.
Kafka clambered onto the beast's head and waved down. "Kurogiri, Ichikawa—you two handle the fangs. They'll fetch a good price with Izumo Tech. Careful with the saws; these things are denser than steel."
"Y-Yes, sir!" Reno answered quickly, fumbling with the electric cutter.
Akira crouched beside him, steadying his grip. "Relax. Let the weight of the tool do the work. No need to force it."
Reno blinked, then gave a small nod. "…Thanks."
The saw whined as it bit into the fang. Sparks flew. The air filled with the acrid tang of burnt enamel. And then—
[Ravan: Kaiju remains detected. Absorption pathway open.]
Akira's pulse quickened. The system's cold tone echoed in his skull, invisible to all but him. The instant his gloved hands brushed kaiju residue, the voice had awoken.
[Trait identified: Acute Olfactory Sense. Integration possible at 0.7% efficiency.]
His breath caught. Even from scraps, even from a corpse, the system offered growth.
"Oi, Kurogiri! Don't space out on me!" Uncle De barked.
"R-Right." Akira forced his hands steady and pressed the saw deeper, masking the flicker of exhilaration in his chest.
Beside him, Reno's movements grew smoother, copying his rhythm. "You're pretty good at this. Been here long?"
"A little while," Akira answered vaguely.
Reno hesitated, then asked the question that had clearly burned on his tongue since they'd met. "Kurogiri-san… do you want to join the Defense Force too?"
The saw screeched as it cut through enamel. Akira's lips curved faintly.
"I do," he said simply.
Reno's eyes lit with recognition. "Then we're the same."
Kafka's voice floated down from above, warm and steady. "Don't underestimate the path you're choosing. It'll chew you up and spit you out if you're not ready."
Akira looked up at him, the man still standing tall despite a life of rejection. For all his flaws, Kafka Hibino carried a strength few could name.
Akira clenched his jaw. Between Kafka's stubborn fire, Reno's fresh ambition, and the system humming within him, one thing was certain.
This time, he wouldn't let the story unfold without him.