The steady beep of medical monitors was the only sound in the whitewashed hospital ward. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, pale and sterile. Everything about this place—the reinforced walls, the antiseptic sting in the air, the soldiers stationed just beyond the door—screamed containment. A cage, dressed as a recovery room.
Akira leaned back against the bedframe, bandages coiled around his arms. He looked like an invalid, but his body was already mending faster than anyone could guess.
[Ravan: Tissue regeneration accelerating. Current rate = 312% above human baseline. Suppression protocol active to avoid suspicion.]
Good, Akira thought wryly. Wouldn't want the doctors wondering why I'm already halfway healed.
Beside him, Kikoru Shinomiya sat stiffly, arms crossed, gaze flicking toward him with obvious irritation. She hadn't left since the tests yesterday.
"You're insufferable," she muttered suddenly, cheeks tightening as his eyes slid to hers.
Akira tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "Insufferable? Harsh. I've been the model patient. Haven't broken anything, haven't tried to escape."
Kikoru's eyes narrowed. "You sit there smirking like you've got the whole world figured out. It's irritating."
Akira's grin widened. "Maybe I'm just wondering if the Defense Force is planning to slice me open the second test results get inconvenient. 'Specimen Kurogiri,' cut into neat little pieces for research."
Kikoru's jaw set, pride flaring. "Hmph! As if they'd dare. The results will be fair. And if anyone tries something underhanded, they'll have to deal with me first."
[Ravan: Subject Kikoru Shinomiya → 83% likelihood of bluff. Counterpoint: her family's political weight would still deter most executions. Recommend keeping her alive for insurance.]
Akira's smirk didn't falter. Always so optimistic, aren't you?
Kikoru flushed faintly under his steady look. "Don't twist my words."
Too late. He already had.
The door opened, and her butler, Seibuya, entered with a food tray. He moved with polite precision, setting the container down. Steam rose from a bowl of chicken soup, richer than standard hospital fare.
Akira sniffed the air. "Soup? What, no steak? Guess the Defense Force is cheap after all."
Kikoru rolled her eyes. "Consider yourself lucky. Most patients get bland gruel."
Akira leaned back deliberately, raising his voice just enough for the guards outside. "No meat? How am I supposed to recover? Maybe bring me some real ingredients—I'll cook for myself. And by the way, this stay's on the Defense Force's tab, right?"
[Ravan: Subtle provocation successful. Guard morale dropping 14%. One soldier outside considering resignation.]
Kikoru covered her face with one hand. "You're unbelievable."
Seibuya only smiled faintly. "Don't worry, Mr. Kurogiri. All expenses are covered. And the Defense Force will be honoring you as a hero for your bravery."
Akira's spoon paused midair, his smirk edged with irony. "Not worried you're praising a kaiju in disguise?"
The air went taut. For a heartbeat, even Seibuya faltered.
Kikoru slammed her utensils down, voice steady as a blade. "Enough. If you ever betray humanity, I'll make sure you're dealt with personally."
[Ravan: Warning. Statement detected = 64% genuine intent. Shinomiya heir likely to attempt execution personally if suspicions confirmed.]
Akira finally sipped the soup, smiling faintly. "Good answer."
Just then, a hesitant voice came from the doorway.
"Is Akira Kurogiri in this room? I'm his supervisor—Kafka Hibino. I… came to check on him."
The door creaked open. Kafka peeked in awkwardly, helmet under his arm. Reno lingered outside, arms folded, eyes sharp as knives.
Kikoru blinked. "You two?"
Kafka scratched his cheek, laughing nervously. "Well… he's still our coworker, right? Thought he might need some company."
Akira leaned back, gaze drifting lazily over them. Reno's suspicion was obvious, the kind that didn't fade overnight.
Kafka filled the silence. "How are you holding up? They didn't poke too many holes in you, did they?"
Akira smirked. "Just enough to keep me entertained."
Kafka chuckled, but Reno's jaw tightened. After a pause, he muttered, "At least you look human lying there. Guess that's something."
Kikoru bristled at his tone, but Akira only tilted his head. He could read the grudging acknowledgment beneath Reno's words.
[Ravan: Update. Subject Reno Ichikawa hostility reduced by 7%. Transition from suspicion → wary respect ongoing.]
Kafka settled into a chair, chatting quickly about the cleanup work that morning. Uncle De's endless complaints, the gruesome discovery in the kaiju's gut, Reno almost gagging. His nervous energy filled the sterile room, softening its edges.
Reno didn't laugh, but when Kafka added quietly, "You could've let us die back there, Akira. You didn't. That matters," Reno didn't correct him.
For Akira, that was enough.
[Ravan: Social bond strengthening. Probability of trio cohesion long-term = 42% → trending upward.]
Outside, Soushiro leaned against the wall, listening in, crooked grin curling faintly. "Even locked up, he's making allies. Dangerous type."
Mina stood a few paces away, her eyes cool and unreadable. Every bond Akira formed was another ripple, another variable. Whether those ripples spread into salvation or disaster—she intended to be ready for both.
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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