The silence beneath Sagamihara was absolute, broken only by the drip of contaminated water and the sluggish flow of sewage through ancient concrete tunnels. In the oppressive darkness, something stirred. A viscous, black sludge—part biological matter, part concentrated malice—pulled itself along the tunnel floor. It was all that remained of the Kaiju No. 9 variant defeated by Akira and Kafka Hibino's overwhelming power.
[Ravan: Residual energy signature detected. Composition matches Kaiju No. 9. Fortitude level fluctuating between 1.2 and 2.1. Severe cellular degradation detected. Survival instinct overriding all other functions.]
The thing that had been a twin to the horned monster Akira fought was now barely more than a sentient puddle, its telepathic link to its other half severed, leaving only a hollow, ringing silence and a primal drive to survive. It moved with purpose, drawn by the warmth of life above. A manhole cover, slightly ajar, offered a glimpse of the night sky—and the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Above ground, Kenta Sato, a mid-level salaryman working for a pharmaceutical company, sighed wearily as his sedan navigated the empty streets. He was late, again. The reports on kaiju tissue samples wouldn't file themselves. He hummed along to the radio, completely unaware of the darkness coalescing in the sewer beneath a drain grate just ahead.
The sludge sensed his approach. It quivered, pulling itself into a concentrated mass directly beneath the grate. As the car's tires passed over it, the thing acted. A single, whip-like tendril of black matter shot up through the grate, piercing the sedan's undercarriage with unnatural precision. It wasn't an attack of power, but one of opportunity—a needle-thin filament seeking warmth.
Kenta Sato gasped as a coldness shot up his leg. He slammed on the brakes, clutching his chest. "What the... heartburn? From that cheap ramen?" he muttered, shaking his head. The coldness faded, replaced by a strange, spreading numbness. He shrugged it off, blaming stress and a poor diet. He drove on, unaware that a microscopic kernel of kaiju cells was now coursing through his bloodstream, heading straight for his brain.
Two days later, Kenta Sato called in sick. He complained of a migraine. Three days later, he stopped answering his phone entirely.
Ariake Maritime Base - Chief of Staff Briefing Room
The atmosphere in the strategic briefing room was colder than the air conditioning humming in the vents. Captain Mina Ashiro stood at the head of a polished table, her silhouette framed by a massive holographic display. Before her sat the most powerful combat leaders in Japan. Gen Narumi, Captain of the formidable First Division, slouched in his chair with an air of bored confidence, though his eyes were sharp, taking in every data point. The Captains of the Second, Fourth, and other divisions were present, their expressions ranging from grim focus to barely-concealed anxiety.
"Thank you for attending on short notice," Mina began, her voice cutting through the low murmur. The hologram behind her shifted to display the ravaged sectors of the Northern District. "The incident in Sagamihara and the Northern Shipping District was not an isolated attack. We are facing a paradigm shift in kaiju behavior."
The display zoomed in on the two distinct Kaiju No. 9 variants. "This entity, designated Kaiju No. 9, demonstrates intelligence, strategic planning, and a previously unseen ability to create duplicates of itself. Its primary objectives appear to be the acquisition of kaiju powers and the deliberate targeting of high-value Defense Force personnel."
Captain Gen Narumi finally spoke, a lazy grin playing on his lips. "So it's got a grudge and a brain. Makes it more interesting to squash, doesn't it?"
Mina's gaze didn't waver. "This is not a matter of interest, Captain Narumi. It is a matter of survival. Its ability to revive and enhance deceased kaiju presents an existential threat. Our standard response protocols are obsolete." The hologram changed to show energy residue readings from both battlefields. "Furthermore, we have detected identical, anomalous energy signatures at both engagement sites—a signature that does not match any known kaiju or weapon system in our database."
This got a reaction. The other captains leaned forward. The unspoken question hung in the air: What else is out there?
Mina continued, her eyes sweeping the room. "I will be remaining here at Ariake for the next 72 hours to lead a dedicated analysis task force. We will be cross-referencing all data from these events with historical kaiju attacks dating back to the Meireki Era . All divisions are to immediately escalate to Condition Orange alert status. Patrols are to be doubled. Any anomaly, no matter how minor, is to be reported directly to this office."
She turned to the hologram, which now displayed the schematics of Tachikawa Base. "The Third Division took the brunt of this attack. They are recovering, but they represent the first line of defense. I am authorizing the immediate transfer of additional resources and personnel to reinforce Tachikawa. This creature has shown a propensity for attacking our facilities. We must assume it is learning our weaknesses."
The meeting continued for another hour, a grueling session of strategy, resource allocation, and grim predictions. Through it all, Mina was the picture of stoic command . But in the back of her mind, a single, persistent thought echoed, separate from the tactical discourse: Kafka Hibino was at the center of both attacks. And he survived both.
Tachikawa Base - Training Grounds
The base was a hive of frantic activity. The damage from the previous attack was still visible—scorched marks on the tarmac, a temporary patch on a collapsed wall—but the mood had shifted from recovery to preparation. The special training regimen devised by Vice-Captain Hoshina was in full, brutal swing.
Akira Kurogiri moved through his forms with his new custom katana. The blade was an extension of his will, each swing precise, each deflection calculated. But his mind was only half on the training.
[Ravan: Continuous environmental scan active. Probability of secondary attack within 96 hours: 78%. Analyzing patrol routes for optimal coverage. Cross-referencing kaiju attack patterns with historical data from the Meireki Era...]
The system's silent voice was a constant hum in his mind. He could feel the base's heightened tension like a physical pressure. He watched Reno Ichikawa drilling with a new intensity, his movements sharper, his reactions faster. He saw Kikoru Shinomiya pushing a squad of recruits to their limits, her voice sharper than ever, a reflection of the pressure her father had undoubtedly placed on her.
Nearby, Kafka Hibino was trying, and failing, to control a new exercise. He was meant to channel a minute amount of energy to shatter a specific stone in a wall of rocks without damaging the others. Instead, he kept either doing nothing or accidentally vaporizing three stones at once.
"Focus, Kafka!" Akira called out, not unkindly. "It's not about force. It's about threading the needle."
Kafka wiped sweat from his brow, frustration evident on his face. "I'm trying! It's like trying to sneeze with your pinky toe!"
Suddenly, a familiar, sleek black sedan pulled into the base. Mina Ashiro emerged, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses. A hush fell over the training grounds as every recruit and officer stopped to look. Her presence here, so soon after the strategic briefing, signaled the gravity of the situation.
She walked directly to Hoshina, who was observing the training with a critical eye. They spoke in low tones for a moment. Hoshina's usual grin faded, replaced by a look of grim determination. He nodded once, sharply.
Mina's gaze then swept across the training field. It lingered on Kafka, who immediately stood up straighter, then on Akira, who gave a slight, acknowledging nod. Finally, her eyes found Kikoru. Without a word, she turned and headed towards the command center, Hoshina falling into step beside her.
The message was clear. The time for recovery was over. The fight was coming back to them.
Undisclosed Location - Yoyogi District
In a small, cramped apartment, the thing that had been Kenta Sato finished its metamorphosis. It stood before a mirror, examining its new form. The body was perfect—every memory, every mannerism assimilated. It picked up Kenta's smartphone, scrolling through his work emails about kaiju tissue analysis. A cruel, alien smile stretched its lips—his lips—in a expression the real Kenta Sato never would have made.
The kaiju core within him had regenerated, fueled by the man's life force and knowledge. Its fortitude was climbing, back to a stable 4.0, and now it was armed with something far more valuable than raw power: information. It knew about the security protocols at the research facility. It knew about the tissue samples stored there, including samples from the recent battle.
It accessed a hidden map on the phone, its new, human eyes gleaming with malicious intelligence. The map centered on a familiar location: Tachikawa Base. The creature had a goal, a target, and a perfect disguise. The game was entering a new phase.
Back at Tachikawa, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the base, Akira Kurogiri paused his training. He looked out towards the perimeter fence, his new katana held loosely at his side.
[Ravan: Warning. Detection algorithms have identified a 3.7% power fluctuation in the Yoyogi sector grid. Anomaly correlates with patterns of unauthorized biological energy consumption. Probability of connection to primary threat: 62%. Advising heightened vigilance.]
Akira's jaw tightened. It was already happening. They were running out of time. The calm was over; the storm of the Raid on Tachikawa Base was gathering on the horizon, and at its center was a monster wearing a dead man's face.
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T/N :
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