The world had narrowed to the point of the blade. Reno Ichikawa stood his ground, arms spread wide, tears of defiance streaking through the grime on his cheeks. The slender Kaiju No. 9's bladed arm hung in the air, halted mere inches from his face, its single red eye blinking with what could only be described as computational confusion.
"Fascinating," its voice rasped inside their skulls. "Illogical self-sacrifice. A critical error in the survival algorithm."
The moment of analysis passed. The algorithm concluded: eliminate the error.
The bladed arm thrust forward.
It was too fast for Reno to even register. But Kikoru, from her knees, saw its micro-movements. With a guttural cry born of pure instinct, she didn't try to stand. She threw her body weight sideways, her hand finding the haft of her fallen axe. With the last dregs of her strength, she didn't swing it—she launched it like a spear, not at the kaiju, but at the bladed arm itself.
CLANG!
The axe struck the flat of the blade, a desperate, clumsy deflection. It wasn't enough to stop the thrust, only to alter its course by a few critical centimeters. Instead of piercing Reno's heart, the razor-sharp tip meant for him carved a deep, horrific gash across his chest and shoulder before slashing downward.
Reno didn't scream. The impact was too sudden, too clean. He looked down, his eyes wide with shock at the blossoming crimson stain across his torso. A strange numbness spread, followed by a wave of searing agony that stole his breath. His legs buckled, and he collapsed backward, his head landing in Kikoru's lap.
"Reno!" Kikoru shrieked, her own pain forgotten. Her hands, trembling violently, pressed against the grievous wound, trying futilely to stem the tide of blood. "No, no, no! Stay with me! Look at me!"
The Kaiju No. 9 watched, its head tilted. The axe lay useless on the ground. The boy was dying. The girl was broken. The data was concluding. And yet... her first action upon seeing her protector fall was not to flee or surrender, but to try and save him. Her priority was his life, not her own.
"Why?" The thought-voice was no longer just a statement; it carried a faint, alien echo of curiosity. It was a question. For a split second, the kaiju's posture shifted. It wasn't just analyzing; it was accessing. Fragments of memory, emotions from the countless human hosts it had consumed and assimilated flickered behind its single eye—a mother shielding her child, soldiers throwing themselves on grenades, a promise made in the dark. A chaotic, irrational, and persistent thread woven through humanity.
It understood the pattern, even if the reason eluded its logic. And understanding, it deemed the variable too dangerous to leave active.
"The bond is a vulnerability. It must be purged."
It raised its blade again, this time aiming with cold finality at Reno's heart. Kikoru, with nothing left to give, did the only thing she could. She threw her own body over his, a final, desperate shield.
The blade began its descent.
A sound tore through the industrial park, unlike anything that had come before. It was not a roar of anger, but a scream of pure, unadulterated terror and protective fury. It was the sound of a heart breaking at the sight of its most cherished people broken and bleeding.
"GET AWAY FROM THEM!"
A blue comet smashed into the Kaiju No. 9 from the side.
BOOOOOOM!
The impact was catastrophic. The kaiju was hurled across the clearing, crashing through a steel support beam with a shriek of tearing metal. It landed in a heap, its form flickering for a moment from the sheer, unexpected force.
Standing between it and the two injured recruits was a monster. It was a hulking figure of blue armor plates and raw, powerful muscle, steam rising from its joints. Its face was a nightmarish visage of fangs and a single, blazing blue eye. But its posture was not one of aggression; it was one of protection, crouched defensively over Reno and Kikoru.
Kafka Hibino had arrived.
He didn't pause. Moving with a speed that belied his massive new form, he gently, carefully, gathered the bleeding Reno and the stunned Kikoru in his powerful arms. He leapt back, putting a hundred meters of distance between them and the kaiju in two bounds, setting them down softly behind the relative cover of a crumbling concrete wall.
"Use the suits!" he urged, his voice a distorted, guttural rumble, but unmistakably his. "The med-systems! Stop the bleeding! Press the emergency stimulant injection on the collar!"
His massive, clawed hand, with shocking delicacy, pointed to the specific port on Reno's suit before he turned, placing himself as a living barricade between them and the threat.
Kikoru could only stare, her mind refusing to process what her eyes were seeing. The massive blue kaiju. The gentle, worried voice. The familiar, clumsy concern.
It was Kafka.
The man who dreamed of being a hero. The lovable, pathetic old man who bought them snacks. The loyal friend who never gave up.
He was a monster.
A wave of nausea and visceral disgust washed over her. All her life, she had been taught that kaiju were things to be exterminated. They were mindless destroyers, the enemy. Her family's legacy, her father's life's work, was built on their eradication. And here was one, wearing the face of her comrade.
"You..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of horror and betrayal. "You're... Kaiju No. 8..." The name given to the mysterious "good monster" felt like ash in her mouth.
Kafka flinched as if she'd struck him. He didn't look back, but his massive shoulders slumped slightly. He had known this moment would come. He had feared it.
The Kaiju No. 9 had already risen, its own form rippling as it repaired the damage from Kafka's tackle. It observed the new variable, its head tilted.
"A fellow evolution," it mused, its telepathic voice intrigued. "But your data is... corrupted. The host consciousness remains dominant. A failed assimilation. A waste of potential."
It began to pace, analyzing. "Your power is raw, unrefined. But significant. I will correct the error. I will absorb you and purge the human weakness that holds you back."
It launched itself forward, not with a blade, but with an open hand, aiming to grab Kafka and seemingly absorb him on contact.
Kafka met the charge with a clumsy but powerful swing of his own clawed fist. SMASH! The force of the impact was immense, creating a shockwave that rattled the entire area. He was fighting. Not with skill, but with sheer, desperate power and an unwavering will to protect the two humans behind him.
Miles away, in the rusted cathedral of the shipping yards, Akira Kurogiri was a maelstrom of focused fury. His body was a canvas of cuts and bruises, his suit torn, but his eyes burned with renewed intensity.
[Ravan: Confirmed. Kafka Hibino's energy signature detected. Location: 2.8 kilometers south-southwest. Signature is stable, combat-active. Reno Ichikawa and Kikoru Shinomiya's vitals are weak but present.]
The telepathic message from the other Kaiju No. 9 variant had been brief, a spike of surprise and interest that flashed through its consciousness, and in that moment, Akira had felt it too through their clashing energies.
Kafka is with them. He's fighting.
A weight he hadn't even realized he was carrying lifted from his shoulders. He could stop worrying about them. Now, he could focus entirely on the task at hand: dismantling the monster in front of him.
The horned Kaiju No. 9 recovered from its shock at Akira's resurgence. It thrust out a hand, fingers splayed. The air coalesced in front of its palm, compressing into a shimmering, distorting sphere of volatile energy—a spatial compression bomb.
"Your resilience is noted. Now, be erased."
It launched the sphere.
Akira didn't dodge. He planted his feet.
[Ravan: Activating assimilated abilities: Hardened Carapace (Maximum Output). Worm-type Burrower Kinetic Redirection.]
He crossed his arms in front of him. The sphere hit—and instead of exploding, its energy washed over him, the Carapace ability deflecting the spatial shearing force while the Worm's unique biology channeled the concussive kinetic energy down through his legs and into the ground.
CRUUUNCH-BOOM!
The pavement for ten meters around Akira exploded upward in a shower of concrete and dust, but he stood firm at the epicenter, unharmed.
The Kaiju No. 9's eyes widened. "You... you are not just a thief. You are a synthesizer. You create new applications." For the first time, its voice held not just curiosity, but a note of avarice. It wanted that ability.
It lunged, blades extending from both arms now, its attacks becoming a frenzied storm of slashes and stabs, each move designed to kill or dismember.
Akira moved with him, a deadly dance. He used the Mantis precision to predict and parry, the Tiger Beetle acceleration to counter-strike, and the Toad's concussive blasts to create openings. He wasn't just fighting; he was conducting an orchestra of stolen power, each movement a perfect, lethal note.
He was no longer struggling to keep up. He was pushing the kaiju back.
Back at the chemical plant, Kafka was losing. He was powerful, but he was untrained. The Kaiju No. 9 was a master of its form, its attacks precise and efficient. It dodged Kafka's wild swings and landed sharp, cutting blows that sliced through his armored hide. Blue-tinged blood—his blood—dripped onto the ground.
He wouldn't fall. He wouldn't move from his spot. Each time he was hit, he growled and stood his ground, making sure no attack went past him toward Reno and Kikoru.
Kikoru watched, her hands still pressed against Reno's wound, the suit's auto-injector having administered a coagulant and painkiller, stabilizing him for now. Her initial disgust was being chipped away by the brutal, selfless reality before her. This monster, this thing, was being shredded to protect them. It was taking blow after blow for them. For her.
Her father's words echoed in her mind: "Kaiju are monsters. They know only destruction."
But this... this was not destruction. This was sacrifice.
The Kaiju No. 9 finally saw an opening. It feinted high, then dropped low, its blade aiming to sever Kafka's leg at the knee. Kafka braced for the impact.
It never came.
A trash can lid, hurled with pathetic force, bounced off the kaiju's head.
"Leave him alone, you freak!" a slurred voice yelled.
From a broken doorway, a group of three drunken men stumbled out, their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and drunken bravado. They had been hiding in the abandoned plant, having an illicit drink-up, and the sounds of the battle had finally drawn them out.
"W-What the hell is that?!" one stammered, holding a broken bottle.
"Does it matter?! It's attacking that blue guy! And... and are those kids?!" another yelled, throwing an empty bottle this time.
The distraction was minuscule, meaningless to a creature of this power. But it was a variable it hadn't calculated. Its head turned for a fraction of a second toward the new nuisances.
It was all the opening Kafka needed. He roared and brought both of his massive fists down in a devastating hammer blow on the kaiju's back, driving it into the concrete. CRACK!
In the Tachikawa Base command center, the call came in.
"Defense Force! Help! There's monsters fighting at the old chemical plant in the Northern District! A grey one and a blue one! And there's kids here! I think they're hurt!"
Every screen lit up. The location was pinpointed.
Mina Ashiro was already moving. "Hoshina! The northern chemical plant! That's where they are! That's the energy signature! Move out! All units, converge on those coordinates! Medical team on standby!"
Hoshina was already sprinting for the nearest helicopter, the one painted with his signature tiger stripes. "You heard the Captain! Lively, you lot! Our kids are in a fight!"
The roar of helicopter blades filled the air as the cavalry, finally knowing where to go, mobilized. The race was on.
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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