The fallout from Hoshina's debut was immediate and seismic. The footage, captured by Kikoru's suit-cam and a dozen hastily deployed drones, was now the single most analyzed piece of data in the Project Chimera bunker.
Kenji Tanaka watched the recording on a loop, his expression a mixture of profound awe and deep-seated fear. He saw Hoshina's impossible speed. He saw the systematic, live dissection of a Kaiju that had been schooling their greatest prodigy.
"He's not human anymore," Analyst Kido whispered from beside him, her face pale. "His biometrics are off the charts. His neural processing speed, for that single 0.8-second burst, was greater than our most advanced AI. That stimulant... it's not just a drug. It's a temporary transformation."
"It's Hoshina's obsession made real," Kenji corrected, his voice grave. "He couldn't replicate the Anomaly, so he's trying to replicate a Kaiju. He's merging tactical human genius with the raw, biological advantages of the enemy. It's brilliant. It's insane. And it's the most dangerous thing I have ever seen."
The data confirmed it. Hoshina hadn't just gotten faster. For that brief, violent moment, he was better. A perfect predator, designed and honed to hunt their new enemies. He was humanity's first, terrifying success in the new arms race.
And the cost was clearly visible in the classified medical reports that followed. Severe neural degradation. Micro-tears in his muscle tissue that even advanced healing couldn't fully repair. Cellular aging accelerated by an estimated five years with every use. He was burning his own lifespan as fuel for his power.
This terrifying new development reached Director General Shinomiya. He looked at the report, at the footage, at his daughter's shaken testimony. A grim, hard smile touched his lips.
The experiment was a success.
"Give Vice-Captain Hoshina full control of the 'Bio-Enhancement Division'," he commanded his adjutant. "Grant him access to all captured Kaiju specimens. Whatever he needs, he gets. We have our weapon. Now, we must perfect it."
Shinomiya saw not a man sacrificing himself, but a sword being forged. He didn't care if the blade was brittle, as long as it was sharp enough to cut the throats of his new enemies. Hoshina, in his obsessive quest, had become the Director General's most prized, and most disposable, asset. A monster to be unleashed.
Kikoru was shaken to her core.
She sat in the debriefing room, the memory of Hoshina's cold, triumphant eyes burned into her mind. She had been defeated. Not just by the Kaiju, but by the Vice-Captain who had saved her. Her power, her raw, overwhelming force, had been proven ineffective against a specialized enemy. But Hoshina, with his newfound, monstrous speed and precision, had made it look easy.
She was the prodigy. The untouchable golden girl of the Defense Force. And she had just been rendered secondary. First by a god, now by a man who was turning himself into a monster.
Her pride was a gaping, bleeding wound. Her frustration, her feeling of being left behind by a rapidly escalating world, was now a solid, unshakeable certainty. She had hit a plateau. A ceiling. And she had no idea how to break through it.
She pulled up the only file that gave her any sense of direction. The one she had been building in secret. [Case File: Hibino/Anomaly-Alpha].
Every other major player was evolving. The Kaiju were getting smarter. Hoshina was becoming something new. And it all seemed to revolve around the two biggest secrets on the planet: a man who could turn into a Kaiju, and a man who could unmake them with a bored glance.
If she wanted to break her limits, if she wanted to be part of the real war, she had to stop chasing battles. She had to start chasing the truth. Her path was clear. It wasn't about getting stronger in the training room. It was about finding Kafka Hibino, and through him, finding the key to the impossible power of the man he inexplicably knew.
Her rivalry with Kafka was about to transform. It was no longer about proving her superiority. It was now a desperate, focused hunt for knowledge. She needed to understand how a failure like him had become the lynchpin of the entire, secret war.
In Saitama's apartment, the three of them watched the news report on their small TV.
A breathless reporter stood in the ruined industrial sector. "Sources confirm the new, highly aggressive Kaiju was defeated thanks to a brilliant tactical operation led by the Third Division's own Vice-Captain, Soshiro Hoshina!" she announced dramatically. "Another stunning victory for the brave men and women of the Defense Force!"
Kafka stared at the screen, the bowl of curry in his hands forgotten. He had seen the raw satellite data through Genos's network. He had seen Hoshina's terrifying, inhuman speed.
"He's... stronger," Kafka whispered, a shiver running down his spine. "A lot stronger. That's not training. That's... something else."
Saitama, slurping his curry, glanced at the screen. "Oh, sword guy," he said, uninterested. "He looks all twitchy. Is he okay?"
"Negative, Master," Genos interjected, his voice analytical and cold. He brought up a holographic display showing Hoshina's energy signature from the battle. "I have analyzed the Vice-Captain's combat data. He utilized a short-burst biological accelerator, likely derived from Kaiju stimulants. The power output is impressive, but the energy consumption-to-lifespan ratio is catastrophically inefficient. He is destroying himself to achieve temporary parity with a mid-tier threat."
Genos turned his glowing eyes to Kafka. "It appears his obsession with you, and by extension the Master, has driven him to a dangerously reckless path."
Kafka felt a pang of something he didn't expect: guilt. He knew Hoshina's obsession was fueled by what he had seen in the corridor, by the revelation of his own monstrous power. Hoshina was chasing him, chasing that power, and it was tearing him apart.
"He's going to get himself killed," Kafka said quietly.
"A high probability," Genos agreed.
Saitama finished his curry and set the bowl down with a decisive clack. He looked at Kafka's worried face. He looked at the TV, where Hoshina's stoic, heroic face was being lauded by the media.
"So," Saitama said, cutting through the complex moral and strategic analysis with his usual simplicity. "The loud girl got beat up, and the twitchy sword guy is trying to turn himself into a monster so he doesn't feel useless."
He paused, then added the most Saitama-like conclusion possible.
"Sounds complicated," he said with a yawn. "I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me up if something actually interesting happens."
He flopped onto his futon, his back to the TV and the dawning of a new, terrifying age of human-monster hybrids. While the world was reeling from the appearance of humanity's new monster, the god at the center of it all was utterly, completely, and blissfully unimpressed. The arms race could escalate all it wanted. It would only ever be a footnote in his ongoing, epic war against boredom.