The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and steamed rice. Afternoon sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting neat bars across the floor. Akira lounged against the pillows of his bed, the remains of his extravagant "meat test" still stacked on the tray beside him. The Defense Force had tried to bury their suspicions beneath an absurd amount of food, but the atmosphere lingered heavy even after the dishes were cleared away.
Kafka sat at the foot of the bed, helmet rolling nervously between his palms. "You really polished off all of that, huh? I thought you were joking when you said you could eat more than three men."
Akira smirked, stretching his arms lazily. "What can I say? Recovery takes fuel."
Reno, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, eyed the empty platters like they were damning evidence. His voice was dry. "Or maybe you just didn't want to leave proof behind for a lab analysis."
Kikoru stiffened, throwing him a glare. "Enough, Ichikawa. If he wanted to hide evidence, he wouldn't be eating it right in front of Captain Ashiro."
Akira chuckled under his breath, the sound light but edged. "She's right, Reno. If I was trying to act like a kaiju in disguise, I'd be smarter about it. Maybe eat you first instead of chicken."
Kafka flinched. "That's… not funny, Akira."
"Relax," Akira said, waving a hand as if brushing away the tension. "If I wanted to hurt you, last night would've been the perfect chance. Yet here you are, breathing and fretting."
[Ravan: Observation → Subject Reno Ichikawa suspicion reduced by 4%. Wary hostility transitioning to reluctant rivalry.]
Reno's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. Instead, he looked away, as though admitting the point tasted bitter. Kafka, ever the peacemaker, jumped in quickly. "See? I told you Akira's on our side. You think a kaiju would crack dumb jokes and complain about cafeteria cooking?"
Kikoru muttered, "Honestly, that sounds exactly like something a kaiju might do if it wanted to trick us." But her voice lacked the bite of conviction. She had watched him eat, laugh, argue; everything about Akira was aggravatingly human.
The uneasy rhythm was broken when the door creaked open. Soushiro Hoshina leaned in, relaxed posture masking sharp eyes. "Well, well. Looks like you three are already acting like a squad." His gaze flicked briefly to Akira. "Dangerous, that. Bonds make people harder to control."
Kafka scrambled to his feet. "Vice-Captain!"
Hoshina waved him down. "No need to salute in here. Just checking on our patient." His tone stayed light, but his eyes lingered on Akira's hands, the way they flexed restlessly even at rest.
Akira only smirked back, meeting the scrutiny without flinching.
[Ravan: Vice-Captain Hoshina → concealed hostility 21%. Strategic evaluation ongoing. Recommend maintaining neutral behavior.]
Later, when the trio finally dispersed for the evening, Kikoru followed Mina into the corridor. Kafka tried to joke about the meat bill, Reno offered only a curt nod, and Akira reclined back as though the entire encounter had been for his amusement.
Once the younger recruits were gone, Soushiro leaned against the wall, speaking low. "He's too calm, Captain. Even under suspicion, even under watch… it's like he's never afraid of losing control."
Mina's heels clicked softly as she halted, eyes narrowed in thought. "That's what unsettles me most. He adapts too quickly. Every test we set, he bends it into his favor. Even that ridiculous 'meat trial'—he turned it into comedy."
Kaori Kozunugi's voice crackled over comms, sharp with irritation. "And the whole Force is buzzing about it. He's a patient, not a sideshow, yet here we are running errands for his appetite. If word gets out, morale will tank."
"Morale already tanks every time civilians vanish," Mina replied coolly. "Reports from Yokohama suggest disappearances rising these last three nights. Families whisper about shadows, people not coming home. That matches what he implied—monsters that hunt, not destroy."
Hoshina's grin thinned. "So you believe him?"
"I believe the data," Mina said, her tone iron. "Whether Akira Kurogiri is trustworthy or not, his words line up with evidence we can't ignore. The bigger risk is doing nothing."
Inside his room, Akira lay awake, staring at the ceiling as the muffled echoes of their voices bled through the walls. He didn't need to strain to imagine what they were saying.
[Ravan: Surveillance net at 84%. Subjects Mina Ashiro and Soushiro Hoshina remain primary observers. Current Defense Force consensus = controlled suspicion.]
"Controlled suspicion, huh," Akira murmured. "Feels more like a leash."
[Ravan: Correction. Leash implies eventual slack. Current probability of escalation → 69%. Recommend contingency planning.]
Akira smirked, folding his arms behind his head. "Yeah, yeah. Always the optimist."
Three days passed in uneasy calm. No kaiju roars rattled the skyline. No alarms pulled the Defense Force from their bunks. For the first time in weeks, the city breathed. Yet the silence was wrong—an emptiness that pressed on the nerves like a held breath.
During those days, Kafka came by with snacks and rambling stories about their cleaning company shifts—Uncle De cursing at clogged drains, Reno slicing a tentacle chunk too thin and nearly losing a finger. His chatter painted the ordinary life they had barely left behind.
Reno still lingered warily at the edges, watching every twitch of Akira's fingers, but there were moments—brief ones—when the suspicion cracked. When Akira jabbed back at Kafka's clumsy optimism, Reno's lip would twitch, almost a smile, before he caught himself.
Kikoru's visits were quieter. She asked pointed questions, veiled challenges hidden beneath polite words. Yet she didn't storm out, didn't dismiss him outright. Something in her sharp eyes measured him constantly, searching for flaws.
[Ravan: Trio cohesion trending upward. Probability of long-term alliance now 47% → rising.]
On the third night, the illusion of peace shattered. Reports streamed into Tachikawa Base: multiple disappearances in Yokohama's residential blocks. Families missing in locked apartments, doors broken inward as if something had dragged them out. The victims were not found. Only smears of ash and claw marks gouged into the concrete remained.
Mina read the reports in silence, the flicker of the monitor light carving hard shadows across her face. Kozunugi muttered curses behind her, already drafting deployment orders. Hoshina leaned one shoulder against the wall, blades glinting in the low light. "Guess your boy was onto something after all. Monsters that hunt quiet instead of loud."
Mina didn't answer immediately. Her eyes stayed fixed on the grainy surveillance footage of a dark figure slipping between rooftops, movement too fast, too deliberate to be human. At last, she turned, voice clipped. "Prepare the squads. We move to Yokohama."
Later, when she entered Akira's room, the trio was already gathered—Kafka mid-laugh, Reno rolling his eyes, Kikoru perched stiffly on the chair. The laughter stilled at Mina's expression.
"We're done waiting," Mina said, her voice sharp enough to cut the air. "Yokohama is bleeding, and we don't have the luxury of doubt. You wanted proof, Akira Kurogiri? You'll get it."
The blinds rattled as a night wind surged through the open window, carrying the distant sounds of a restless city.
[Ravan: Alert. Mission deployment imminent. Unknown subspecies activity → 73% correlation with prior intelligence. Anticipated contact range = three days.]
Akira's lips curved faintly. "Finally."
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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