Dusk settled over Yokohama like a heavy cloak, its violet hues bleeding into the warehouse windows. The cleanup crew had just begun winding down when the last echoes of Kikoru Shinomiya's heels faded into the distance.
Yet the storm she left behind hadn't dissipated. If anything, it was only just beginning.
Unseen above the street, the faint hum of a surveillance drone vibrated through the air. Its glassy eye tracked every movement within the company's yard, relaying the feed directly to the Third Division's monitoring room.
Inside, Vice-Captain Soshiro Hoshina leaned back in his chair, sharp teeth gleaming faintly under the glow of monitors. "Two hours," he murmured, eyes flicking across multiple angles of the crew. "And still nothing."
"Curious?" Mina Ashiro's calm voice cut in from beside him. She didn't glance up from the file she was reading, her focus sharp as ever.
"Curious and suspicious," Hoshina replied, tapping the monitor that showed Akira Kurogiri laughing with Kafka Hibino. "The kid looks sickly, but he blocked Kikoru-chan like swatting a fly. Either he's hiding something, or he's one hell of a natural freak."
"Or both," Mina added coolly.
Hoshina's grin widened. "That's what makes this fun, Captain. Let's poke the hornet's nest a little and see what comes out."
Inside the Cleanup Company
The air still smelled faintly of blood and disinfectant. Kafka Hibino tried to shake off the tension by rambling about the exam again, explaining in detail how the Defense Force typically designed their written sections.
"…so they always throw in a trick question about nuclei placement," Kafka said earnestly, waving a pen over the notebook. "But if you've worked in cleanup as long as I have, you start to see the patterns."
Across the table, Akira listened politely, but his eyes kept flicking toward the window where he could sense faint presences outside. His system-enhanced senses didn't lie. They were being watched.
Kafka didn't notice—he was too wrapped up in his notes—but Reno Ichikawa did. The white-haired youth leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze steady on Akira.
Finally, Reno broke the silence.
"…You're different," he said bluntly.
Kafka blinked, startled by the sudden comment. "Eh? Me?"
Reno shook his head. His sharp eyes stayed locked on Akira. "Not you. Him. Akira Kurogiri."
The room stilled.
Akira raised an eyebrow. "…What about me?"
"You stopped Kikoru Shinomiya without even breaking a sweat. No normal cleaner could do that. Hell, no rookie cadet could either." Reno's words weren't mocking like before—they carried weight, suspicion, and a grudging hint of respect.
Kafka stepped in quickly, nervous laughter escaping him. "Ahaha, come on, Reno, you're overthinking! Akira's just… really determined, that's all!"
Reno didn't buy it, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he gave a stiff bow. "Still… I owe you both an apology for earlier."
Kafka froze, mid-scribble.
For years he had grown used to snide remarks and pitying looks. Most apologies he'd ever heard were insincere, born out of obligation rather than understanding. But Reno's words, curt as they were, held a sincerity that pierced Kafka deeper than insults ever could.
He forced a laugh to mask the sting in his chest. "It's alright. I stopped caring about things like that a long time ago."
Reno's eyes narrowed. "Then you shouldn't."
Kafka blinked. "…Huh?"
"You don't just stop caring about your own dream," Reno said firmly. "If you do, it dies. And if you've carried it this long, you owe it to yourself to see it through."
Akira's lips curled into the faintest smile. Earlier that day, he had defended Kafka's dream against ridicule. Hearing Reno echo it, even in his own way, gave weight to the moment.
"Hey, hey, enough with the serious faces already!" Uncle Daisuke broke in with a dramatic groan, throwing his hands up. "You're making me feel like we're at a funeral instead of a kaiju-guts warehouse!"
The tension cracked, laughter rippling through the crew.
Daisuke clapped Reno on the shoulder. . 'Good work today ,Kid. Looks like you're fitting in with Kafka's crew just fine.'"
With a wink, he shuffled off to finish paperwork, leaving the three young men staring awkwardly at each other.
For a while, the only sound was the hum of fluorescent lights.
Reno turned to Akira, eyes sharp "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not impressed—I'm just not letting you leave me in the dust."…
Kafka stiffened immediately. "Oi, oi—don't tell me you're picking a fight again?" he asked, stepping forward half-protectively, half-exasperated. His instincts were the same as always—shield first, think later.
Reno raised his hands, palms open. "Relax, senpai. It's not like that. I'm just saying…" His gaze flicked between Akira and Kafka, sharp but honest. "…I refuse to be the one lagging behind."
Akira chuckled quietly, leaning back in his chair. "That's fine by me, Ichikawa. Just don't trip trying to catch up." His tone was teasing, but the gleam in his eyes promised he was serious too.
"…Hah. Big words for a guy who looks like he skipped lunch for a week," Reno shot back, lips twitching despite himself.
"See? This is what I mean!" Kafka groaned, throwing his arms up dramatically. "Rivals I can deal with, but you two glaring at each other like a bad romance drama? No! We're settling this the proper way."
Both Akira and Reno blinked. "Proper way?"
"Ramen. Fried chicken. And beer!" Kafka declared with theatrical conviction. "Team bonding doesn't happen with death stares—it happens over greasy food and terrible jokes."
Akira laughed softly. "He's not wrong. Food does sound good right about now."
Reno hesitated, then finally nodded, a reluctant smile breaking through. "Fine. But you're paying, old man."
"Eh?! Why me?!" Kafka howled, clutching his wallet like it was a dying relative.
The three of them spilled out of the office together, their bickering echoing into the night. For the first time since the exam, the tension between them felt less like suspicion—and more like the start of something solid.
Elsewhere…
Hoshina's grin widened as he watched the feed of the trio leaving.
"Well, well. Looks like our little janitor, our stubborn old dreamer, and our frosty rookie are hitting it off. Interesting mix."
"Don't underestimate them," Mina warned quietly, her eyes following Akira's profile on the screen. "Every storm starts small. Sometimes it's the quiet ones that bring the fiercest winds."
Hoshina tapped his sword hilt thoughtfully. "Then let the storm rage on. I'll be ready."