The kaiju's roar finally dwindled into a rattling wheeze, its body convulsing under the weight of its wounds. Dust hung in the ruined streets of Kawasaki's Eastern Ward, settling like ash over shattered glass and burning concrete. Akira's sword was still buried deep in its tendon, steam rising where ichor hissed against the metal. His chest rose and fell in jagged rhythm, sweat stinging his eyes, the aftereffects of the serum tearing through his nerves like fire.
The battlefield should have erupted in cheers. Instead, silence pressed down on him, heavier than the rubble under his boots. Dozens of Defense Force rifles clicked into place, every barrel angling not at the kaiju's twitching frame—but at him.
Akira froze, lips curling into a bitter smile. "Seriously?"
[Ravan: Threat level shift detected. Targeting systems locked onto host. Assimilation progress: 32%.]
The voice in his head was calm, diagnostic, as though this betrayal wasn't happening in real time. Akira's fingers tightened around the hilt of the longsword. His body screamed to collapse, but his pride refused to bend under their suspicion.
From across the line, Chikako Nakanoshima raised her hand. "Hold formation! Keep your weapons trained. Do not fire unless he makes a hostile move!"
Her men obeyed instantly, but the unease was palpable. The monster before them was crippled, bleeding out, yet no one advanced to finish it. Every soldier's sight was fixed squarely on the white-haired boy standing over it, as if he were the greater threat.
Akira's laugh was low, harsh, carried on ragged breaths. "So that's how it is. The kaiju's right here, still breathing, but you'd rather aim at me."
The squad didn't flinch. Their formation stayed tight, the barrels of their rifles steady even as the beast gurgled beside them.
[Ravan: Assimilation efficiency rising. Progress: 41%. Estimated completion time: five minutes.]
Akira knelt slightly, driving the sword deeper into the kaiju's flesh, pretending it was to steady himself when in reality it was to keep the assimilation channel open. Pain knifed through his spine. His body trembled as the monster's energy flowed into him in flickers of searing light only he could feel.
The silence broke when a voice cut across the smoke.
"Enough."
Kikoru Shinomiya stepped forward, her combat suit battered, hair streaked with dust and blood. Her rifle was still smoking from the last volley, but her posture was unshaken. Her amber eyes swept across the ring of soldiers, then settled firmly on Akira.
For a heartbeat, the air stilled. The others expected her to condemn him, to order his containment, to do what protocol demanded.
Instead, Kikoru lifted her chin. "He's not your enemy."
Murmurs rippled through the ranks. One soldier hissed, "Shinomiya-san, we can't take that risk—"
Kikoru cut him off with the sharp edge of her voice. "If I believed he was a kaiju, I'd have pulled the trigger myself. But he isn't. I'll stake my name on it."
The soldiers wavered, rifles twitching as doubt fractured their discipline. Nakanoshima's expression hardened, torn between protocol and the weight of the Shinomiya name.
Akira's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. His voice came out hoarse. "Kikoru Shinomiya… can I trust you?"
Her glare snapped back to him, equal parts fire and pride. "Tch. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I won't let baseless paranoia decide this battlefield."
Akira chuckled, though the sound turned into a cough. "Fair enough."
[Ravan: Assimilation progress: 54%. Host vitals unstable. Maintaining posture recommended.]
The weight of their standoff pressed down harder. The kaiju shuddered beneath him, ichor spilling in rivers across the ruined asphalt. Every second that passed was borrowed time—both for the creature's final breath and for Akira's assimilation to complete.
Boots pounded against broken stone. Reno Ishikawa and Kafka Hibino emerged from the smoke, both breathing hard, their eyes snapping to the tableau in front of them: the crippled kaiju, Akira crouched against its heaving side, Kikoru standing defiant in front of dozens of leveled rifles.
"…What the hell?" Reno muttered, his tone sharp. His hand hovered near his sidearm. "Why are they aiming at him instead of the kaiju?"
Kafka's brows furrowed, jaw tight. He'd seen Akira reckless, sarcastic, unpredictable—but never malicious. His gut screamed that his friend wasn't the monster here. And yet, the sight of Defense Force rifles trained on Akira made bile rise in his throat.
"That's not right," Kafka said quietly.
Reno glanced at him, his voice low but trembling with conflict. "They don't trust him. And… looking at this, I don't know if I should either."
Kafka's fists clenched. Images of Akira laughing in the dorm, pulling them out of tight spots, tossing reckless remarks at danger like it was a game—all of it slammed against the fear gnawing at his chest. He wanted to shout, to throw himself between the rifles and Akira, but words stuck in his throat.
Kikoru didn't wait for them. She stepped further forward, her rifle raised—not at Akira, but outward, as if daring any of the soldiers to fire. Her voice cracked like a whip. "I said stand down!"
The tension was suffocating. Dozens of soldiers stood frozen, their fingers brushing triggers, caught between orders and the unshakable authority of a Shinomiya heir.
Akira's vision blurred. His breathing slowed, each inhale scraping against broken ribs. But inside, the energy was building.
[Ravan: Assimilation progress: 69%. Warning: nearing system overload. Host consciousness at risk.]
He shut his eyes briefly, letting the power coil within him, ignoring the blood seeping through his clothes.
The ground trembled as the kaiju let out one last strangled bellow, its horn flickering weakly with fractured light. Akira leaned forward, pressing his palm against its hide, feeling the pulse of the core through layers of broken muscle. Almost there. Just a little longer.
The standoff was seconds from boiling over when a new sound split the night.
The low thunder of engines.
Searchlights cut through the smoke, beams slicing across ruined streets. The whine of heavy transports and the metallic stomp of mechanized suits echoed closer and closer.
Nakanoshima's earpiece crackled, the unmistakable voice commanding every syllable.
"All units, hold position. This battle ends now."
The name rippled across the ranks like a shiver of awe and dread.
Mina Ashiro. Captain of the Third Division.
Akira's eyes opened, unfocused but burning. His lips curled in something caught between defiance and exhaustion.
"Looks like the real boss is here."
[Ravan: Assimilation progress: 70%. Critical moment approaching.]
The soldiers shifted uneasily, weapons still trained but no longer steady. Kikoru's knuckles whitened on her rifle. Kafka and Reno exchanged a silent, grim look.
And above the ruined skyline, the engines grew louder, until the air itself seemed to bow to the weight of her arrival.
To be continued…
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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