The tension in the command room was thick enough to choke on. Mina Ashiro stood with arms folded, her sharp eyes trained on the diagnostic console as the final evaluations scrolled across its glowing surface. Vice-Captain Soshiro Hoshina leaned lazily against the wall, though the twitch of his fingers along the hilt of his blade betrayed how carefully he was listening.
"Can a human really be this strong?" one of the younger aides muttered under his breath, staring at the preliminary charts.
Goro Shinazaki, the inspector from headquarters, said nothing. His severe expression didn't falter as the reports printed slowly from the fax machine in the corner.
Mina exhaled, a restrained breath that betrayed her private relief. "The tests will confirm it. Ten minutes more," she said, her voice crisp but betraying a sliver of anticipation.
The waiting dragged. Every pair of eyes in the room seemed to return again and again to the name displayed at the top of the file: Akira Kurogiri.
For days, the boy had been under observation—monitored, questioned, scanned. His medical charts were spotless, his bloodwork maddeningly ordinary. And yet, nothing about him felt ordinary.
Finally, the fax machine whirred to life. A long sheet of paper spooled out, filled with data points and stamped signatures from headquarters. The aides scrambled to deliver it into Shinazaki's hands.
The inspector read in silence, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes flicked from the report to the holographic overlays on the console. At last, he lowered the sheet, his voice level but skeptical.
"No foreign residues. No kaiju tissue markers. No cellular anomalies. The report concludes Kurogiri Akira is fully human."
A hush spread through the room.
Hoshina tilted his head with a grin. "Well, there you have it. All this fuss for a normal guy. Kinda flattering, huh?"
"Normal?" Shinazaki's gaze snapped to him, cold and sharp. "You call a man who can operate Defense Force equipment at ninety-nine percent release value normal? Even among your elites, Vice-Captain, that number is impossible."
"That's talent." Hoshina shrugged. "Rare, sure, but not unheard of. You want to put chains on every genius who shows up, old man?"
Mina's expression darkened. "Inspector Shinazaki, with all due respect, your task is only to verify his humanity. Beyond that, the Third Division will take responsibility for him."
Shinazaki's lips curled faintly, not quite a smile. "Ah, youth. Always so certain." He folded the paper neatly, sliding it back to his aide. "Very well. The report says he is human. I'll file it as such. But I'll warn you both—whether human or not, this boy walks too close to the monsters you fight. If you bring him into your ranks, do not expect headquarters to shield you if something goes wrong."
Mina met his warning with an icy stare. "That's my burden to carry."
For a long moment, silence pressed against the walls. Then Shinazaki gave a small nod, turned on his heel, and left. His aides followed, their faces unreadable.
Hoshina clicked his tongue. "That old man's suspicion is thicker than his hair gel."
But Mina didn't answer. Her eyes lingered on the empty doorway, troubled. Even if the reports cleared Akira, doubt lingered in every corner of the room.
Meanwhile, Akira himself was far from the weight of their scrutiny.
The rooftop was cool under the sweep of night air. Akira leaned against the railing, a can of beer in hand, the city lights sprawling endlessly beneath him. Beside him, Kikoru Shinomiya tore into a bag of shrimp chips with all the poise of a starving wolf.
She glanced sideways at him between bites. "So, any idea who those geezers were earlier? They looked like they wanted to dissect you on the spot."
Akira smirked faintly. "Investigators from HQ. Specialists. Their job is to figure out if I'm something I shouldn't be."
Kikoru chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "And?"
"And the machines say I'm human." He raised the can in a mock toast. "Guess I'm boring after all."
[Ravan: Falsehood rating 91%. Host concealing core data successfully.]
Akira's lips twitched, but he ignored the voice in his head.
Kikoru leaned her elbows against the railing, staring out across Yokohama's sleepless sprawl. "They act like you're some kind of time bomb. I don't get it. If you were really hiding something, don't you think you'd have slipped up already?"
"That's flattering," Akira replied dryly. "Coming from someone who tried to chop me in half when we first met."
Her face flushed crimson. "T-that was—! You looked suspicious, okay?!"
"Still do, apparently."
Kikoru scowled, stuffing more chips in her mouth to hide her embarrassment.
[Ravan: Observation—bond strengthening. Probability of ally conversion increasing.]
"Shut it," Akira muttered under his breath, taking another sip.
They sat in companionable quiet for a few minutes, broken only by the crunch of snacks and the distant wail of sirens below. For the first time in days, the tension seemed to ease—until Akira's ears caught voices drifting faintly upward from the hospital's lower floors.
"…dangerous, even if human," Shinazaki's gravelly tone carried clearly. "A release rate of ninety-nine percent is not talent. It is abnormal. Monitor him closely."
And then Hoshina's reply, edged with irritation: "We're not handing him over. Kurogiri belongs to the Defense Force. If anything happens, we'll take responsibility."
Akira tilted his head, listening. The debate below was sharp, brittle, a clash of suspicion against loyalty.
He exhaled slowly, murmuring to himself, "Looks like they've already decided who I am. Funny how no one bothers asking me what I think."
Kikoru gave him a questioning look, but before she could press, the rooftop door creaked open.
Both of them turned.
A hunched figure emerged into the pale wash of moonlight. Inspector Goro Shinazaki stepped forward, his features cast into sharp relief by the glow. His eyes, narrow and calculating, fixed on Akira with the precision of a hawk.
"Young man," Shinazaki greeted, his voice deceptively mild. "Got a drink to spare?"
Kikoru stiffened immediately, narrowing her eyes. "What's this old guy doing here?"
Shinazaki chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Relax, Shinomiya. Your guards downstairs are busy, and your Vice-Captain's nowhere nearby. It's just us. Why don't we sit down… and have an honest talk?"
The night wind swept across the rooftop, carrying the unspoken weight of what was to come.
Akira met the inspector's gaze, expression unreadable. Behind his calm eyes, however, Ravan stirred.
[Ravan: Warning. Inspector intent—interrogation. Probability of concealed exposure rising.]
Akira set down his can, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "All right, then. Let's talk."
The city pulsed below, oblivious. On that rooftop, suspicion and secrets balanced on the edge of a knife.
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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