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Kikoru is used to observing. It was one of the earliest lessons which her teachers had drummed into her, way back when she had first started to learn how to fight. Knowing in advance how your opponent would strike, based on his stance, could mean the difference between winning or losing. Anticipating which direction a kaiju was likely to attack you from, based on how it had cocked its head or tensed a limb, could mean the difference between life or death.
At some point, it had become second nature to her to remain aware of the people around her, even outside of a combat situation.
And it’s because of this habit, Kikoru thinks, that she might possibly the first person to suspect that something has come up.
She’s sparring with Platoon-leader Shinonome again. As always, Captain Narumi is lounging at the side of the training court, beneath the shade of a beach umbrella that he has scrounged from goodness-knows-where, ostensibly absorbed in his game on his handheld console. In reality, however, she sees the way his gaze darts ever so often from the screen of his handheld to the match that is happening right beside him, surreptitiously checking her progress against his demand that she beat all his platoon leaders in the one month that it’ll take for him to finish his game.
Narumi’s cellphone buzzes on the table next to him. Kikoru watches through the corner of her eye as Narumi turns to look at it, seemingly more out of habit than from any desire to know who is contacting him.
Then, he freezes, just for a split second. It’s not particularly noticeable. Blink, and you might miss it.
But to Kikoru – who has been observing him all this while, the better to gauge his opinion of her progress – the tiny action is as loud as any kaiju alarm. So loud, in fact, that it distracts her momentarily, enough for Shinonome to break past her defences and come within striking range. Kikoru leaps back hurriedly, narrowly evading a blow to her chest.
“Pay attention!” Shinonome barks at her.
I’m paying attention to our lousy captain, Kikoru wants to tell her. Before she can actually retort, Platoon-leader Tachibana bustles onto the court. He looks somewhat out of breath, and he makes a beeline for Narumi. This sight is strange enough that even Shinonome looks over, before stepping away from her sparring match with Kikoru to join the other two. The three of them speak in hushed tones, too soft for Kikoru to make out what they’re saying. Tachibana’s and Shinonome’s body language convey a mix of excitement and disdain. Narumi is no longer visible from where Kikoru stands, blocked from her view by the backs of his platoon leaders.
Eventually, Tachibana looks up first. He seems to notice Kikoru for the first time, and waves at her, which in turn reminds Narumi and Shinonome of her presence.
Narumi heaves himself out of his deck chair. He claps his hands together once, signaling the end of the day’s training. Then, he turns to leave the training court, trailed by his platoon leaders. None of them look back at her.
Kikoru finds herself standing awkwardly in the middle of the court, training weapon held loosely in her hands. For a moment, she’s tempted to run after them and to demand answers about what all that was about. Yet, there’s something different about Narumi as he leaves – a tiny smirk that’s tucked in the corners of his mouth, a half-smile that she’s never seen before on him – and the newness of this sight makes her hesitate until it is too late.
She doesn’t get her answer until the next day, when Vice-captain Hasegawa announces at the training field that Vice-captain Hoshina has come to visit Ariake Coastal Base. Even then, it’s more of a half-clue with question mark tagged to the end, than any satisfying conclusion. Kikoru spends the rest of the afternoon pondering over the way that Narumi had left the field just moments earlier with some of the other members from the First Division, his lips curved in the same half-smile.
There is something more to this, she thinks, and resolves to pay closer attention at the next opportunity.
=-=-=
Hoshina’s visit to the base mark the beginning of something, though Kikoru is still too low in the hierarchy of the Defence Force to be told the details of it. What she does know – courtesy of the scientists who are less careful of their speech whenever she stops by the laboratories for adjustments to her new battle axe – is that it has something to do with a new kind of Numbers weapon, and that it requires Hoshina to continue to visit their base at least twice a week.
Effectively, this translates to Kikoru occasionally running into Hoshina in the dining hall of the base. He usually joins her whenever this happens, the two of them grabbing their meal trays and commandeering a table in the corner of the hall. He fills her in about the latest comings and goings at the Third Division, and she tells him about how her training in the First Division is progressing, plus any other gossip she has heard. Sometimes, Hibino joins them too, when his mealtimes align with theirs, and their table frequently becomes the loudest in the room. She likes those meals the best – a reminder of those simpler days at Tachikawa Base before Kaiju No. 10 attacked and upended everything.
This afternoon, however, it’s just Hoshina and her. It’s later than when the officers and staff usually take their lunch, so they practically have the whole dining hall to themselves. They take their seats at what is by now their usual table. Kikoru’s in the middle of telling Hoshina about how she has finally managed to beat the other platoon leaders in the First Division, and has moved on to sparring with Narumi, when the man himself joins them.
“There are other tables in the hall, you know,” Hoshina says, pleasantly enough.
“I can’t have you stealing my dumb disciple, can I?” Narumi drawls with a smirk. “I’ve only just started training her.” He drops himself beside Hoshina, on the same bench; and Hoshina, despite his words, scoots automatically to the side, making room for Narumi without a frown or a further complaint.
Kikoru blinks. “That would depend on your performance as my teacher, Master Moron,” she retorts, only half-paying her attention. The rest of her attention is caught on how Narumi’s elbow now rests against Hoshina’s arm, and Hoshina doesn’t move away.
All at once, she thinks back to that afternoon, to the gossip on how Narumi’s welcome party for Hoshina had fared, and bites back a laugh. (She had laughed herself silly when she had first heard it.)
Then, she settles into her seat, and observes.
She watches as Narumi steals the fried chicken pieces from Hoshina’s plate. Hoshina fights him for them, his chopsticks clacking against Narumi’s in a mock battle that Narumi has no way of winning, but still lets Narumi keep his spoils.
She listens as Narumi makes fun of Hoshina’s hair no less than four times during their conversation, even as he transfers his own portion of deep-fried tofu onto Hoshina’s tray. Hoshina does not remark on the new side dish before him, his chopsticks dipping into it as though it is his due while he proceeds to insult Narumi’s bleached and dyed bangs.
They’re in the middle of discussing Narumi’s training plans for Kikoru, with Hoshina suggesting that maybe he should stop by at their next training session – Shinomiya will learn faster if she spars with someone who actually knows how to use the sword, don’t you think, Captain Narumi? and You bastard, I know how to use a sword just fine. – when Narumi suddenly excuses himself from their table. He returns a couple of minutes later, with a cup of barley tea which he swaps with the cup of coffee on Hoshina’s tray.
“Drink this instead,” he says curtly.
Hoshina’s brows rise.
“You look like you’re barely sleeping these days,” Narumi continues as he drops back into his seat. He takes a sip from the cup of coffee without looking at its former owner. “How are you going to spar with my dumb disciple if you can barely stay awake?”
It occurs to Kikoru then that Narumi is right. Hoshina can’t possibly be sleeping much, if he has to oversee the rebuilding of Tachikawa Base and to visit Ariake Coastal Base so frequently, on top of his usual duties. Abruptly, she notices the faint shadows beneath Hoshina’s eyes, and the way that he sits with his shoulders ever so slightly slumped, even though his voice is as upbeat as ever.
It has taken her so long to notice all of this, and only after Narumi had said anything.
She’s still wondering when Narumi had noticed, when Hoshina downs his barley tea in one go and gathers his tray to leave.
=-=-=
Apparently, Hasegawa and the platoon leaders of the First Division take turns to wake their captain on the days when he has to be up early for his duties. Kikoru discovers this when the platoon leaders catch her before breakfast one morning and press her into joining their arrangement. She finds herself torn between feeling glad that they consider her one of their own, and feeling put out because really, it’s Narumi’s fault for being so lazy if he gets in trouble for oversleeping.
Still, she agrees, and that’s how she begins noticing the changes in Narumi’s room.
The changes start small: a tidy corner on Narumi’s desk, even when the rest the desk’s surface is a mess; the occasional paper cup alongside Narumi’s usual mug; a cushion on the floor, beside the spare futon mattress which Narumi usually sprawls on when he plays console games on the large television in his room.
Gradually, however, the changes evolve. The desk becomes neater, then the shelf next to it, and soon, at least half the room – tidied clumsily, perhaps, with none of Hasegawa’s hallmark precision, but still noticeably neater than what had been the state of Narumi’s room when she had been introduced to him. A proper mug replaces the paper cup, and Kikoru spies it placed next to Narumi’s personal mug more often than not. The cushion on the floor is a new cushion. The futon, too, with its mattress seemingly thicker and more comfortable-looking. Even its sheets are new.
Kikoru takes all of this in. She isn’t yet sure what to make of it. Her snarky comments about Narumi’s shopping addiction on Yamazon gets blithely ignored by their target. For once, Narumi seems more eager to get them out of his room than Kikoru herself.
The changes continue, until she barges into Narumi’s room one morning, and discovers that he’s already up and dressed. That, in itself, is new.
Equally new, and even more unexpected, is the smell of fresh coffee in the room. Kikoru knows from previous observation that Narumi favours energy drinks; there are always empty cans in the bin in Narumi’s room. She looks around. A faint steam wafts from the second mug that isn’t Narumi’s usual mug, and she’s pretty sure that the coffee machine on Narumi’s desk wasn’t there last week.
Then, she glances down.
Oh.
By now, Narumi has finished zipping up his jacket. He brings a finger to his lips, the universal sign to be quiet, then makes shooing motions with his hands.
Kikoru ignores him. Her attention remains fixed on the spare futon, where Hoshina is fast asleep. Hoshina’s hair is an inky spill on the pillow. The blanket has slipped down his body low enough that she can just about tell that he’s wearing one of Narumi’s old t-shirts. On Narumi, the tee is oversized; on Hoshina’s slightly narrower frame, its neck-hole gapes to reveal milky-white skin over a sharp collar bone.
What, she thinks faintly.
Narumi’s hand gestures have become frantic. He steps closer towards her, conveniently blocking most of her view of Hoshina, and begins to push her out of his room. He locks his room quickly behind him, then hurries down the corridor so fast that Kikoru has to scramble to keep up with him.
=-=-=
Their division has group drills that morning, which means that any questions she has for Narumi will have to wait. The man himself is absent from the dining hall at lunch, and Kikoru’s thoughts are so full with her morning’s discovery that she barely tastes her food. By the time it’s her private afternoon training with Narumi, her curiosity has boiled over into impatience. Even so, Narumi leaves her little chance to ask questions. His blows seem to come quicker and harder than they usually do, and she’s too busy countering his moves to get a word in edgewise.
She’s panting by the time he calls a break. Applause echoes from the entrance of the training room.
“Shinomiya!” Hoshina calls out, “You’re doing good, holdin’ out against that idiot over there.” He smirks as he jerks a thumb in Narumi’s direction. He sounds so normal; no different from all the other times that he had stopped by these private training sessions to check in on her progress after finishing his errands at the base. Nothing about him – from his uniform jacket that is neatly zipped, to the easy stance of his body – screams I slept in my fellow senior officer’s room last night.
Narumi’s answering smile is as much a grimace as it is a grin. “Prepared to lose to this idiot Captain, Vice-captain Hoshina?”
Hoshina has already stripped his jacket off. He rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms above his head, his movements fluid. “In yer dreams, Captain.”
This, too, is familiar. More than half of Hoshina’s visits to these private training sessions have devolved into close-combat sparring matches between Narumi and him. So far, the score remains heavily skewed in Hoshina’s favour.
Kikoru decides that any questions she has for Narumi can wait, as she hides her own grin behind her hands and finds a safe spot in the corner of the training room to enjoy the show.
Logic dictates any match between Narumi and Hoshina should collapse almost as soon as it begins. Narumi is all about powerful and showy moves, big punches and vigorous strikes that are as flamboyant as they are forceful. In contrast, Hoshina fights with a lithe and graceful economy, his strong legs propelling him forward as his practice blades sweep deadly arcs through the air, each slash precise and not a motion wasted. Their combat styles lie firmly on opposite ends of the spectrum; and yet, every sparring match between them is a dance as they weave between each other’s movements, until finally, Narumi swings his bayonet just a hair’s breadth too wide. Hoshina lunges just a breath further, and they both go down in a tangle of limbs. Their practice weapons tumble to the ground in a noisy clatter as Hoshina puts Narumi in a chokehold.
Today’s chokehold is as effective as the ones that came before it. Narumi yelps as Hoshina drives his free elbow into Narumi’s side. Kikoru thinks Hoshina might even be jabbing Narumi harder than usual.
“Fold?” Hoshina drawls.
Narumi snorts, but taps his hand on Hoshina’s arm all the same.
They untangle themselves. Hoshina picks up his discarded jacket. Narumi crosses the room to the storage unit where Numbers Weapons 1 and 4 are kept for the next part of their practice. He says casually over his shoulder, “We’re practising in our suits next. You should stay and watch how this expert does it.”
Hoshina laughs as he makes his way to where Kikoru is seated. “Expert? Then I must congratulate Shinomiya. She’s improvin’ even faster than I’d thought.”
“You…!”
Kikoru doesn’t bother hiding her own laughter as she stands up. “He’s right, because I’m going to be better than you.”
Narumi grin is all teeth. “Bring it, my dumb disciple.”
“You’re on, my moronic master.”
They’ve set the room’s temperature even colder today. It counters the way that their Numbers suits make their bodies overheat from prolonged use, thereby increasing the maximum time that they can spar. Kikoru’s not thinking about how this must feel for Hoshina, his sweat still clinging clammily to his skin while his body cools down, until Narumi suddenly frowns in his direction. She’s about to suggest that they raise the temperature, when Narumi darts forward to scoop up his own uniform jacket and flings it towards Hoshina. “Oi, use my jacket too, if you’re cold.”
Hoshina catches the jacket easily. He stares at the crumpled fabric in his hand, his expression neutral.
Beside her, Narumi makes an exasperated noise. “Just wear it, won’t you? Your shivering is getting pretty annoying.”
Hoshina’s expression remains inscrutable as he drapes the second jacket over his shoulders.
=-=-=
“I think Captain Narumi likes Vice-captain Hoshina,” she declares to Hibino as they run together during morning warm-up. Her announcement has its desired effect: Hibino chokes, misses a step, trips, and flails frantically before landing on his ass. Kikoru laughs as she runs on ahead, reaching the finishing point first while Hibino continues to splutter.
“Are you sure?” Hibino asks her later, when they’re taking a break between sets of crunches. “Neither of them has ever…”
“That’s because you’re not paying enough attention,” Kikoru interrupts, wrinkling her nose. “It’s so obvious. Captain Narumi acts like a boy in junior high who doesn’t know how to behave around his crush. If Vice-captain Hoshina had pigtails, Captain Narumi would be pulling them.” Instead, she’s caught Narumi on multiple occasions with his hands outstretched whenever Hoshina’s around, as though intending to ruffle Hoshina’s hair, right until Hoshina ducks out of the way. All of these occasions invariably end with some quip about Hoshina’s bangs or having a bowl-cut. “Boys, seriously,” Kikoru concludes, and lets her exasperation punctuate her words.
Hibino’s expression shifts from stunned, to bemused, to intrigued. He leans conspiratorially towards her, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And Vice-captain Hoshina? Does he…?”
Kikoru hums contemplatively. “To be honest, it’s hard to tell. Most times, it’s like he doesn’t even notice that Captain Narumi is being extra weird around him. Although that might also be because Captain Narumi is usually… a lot.” She snickers, and Hibino’s mouth also twitches.
“But,” she continues, biting her lip, “sometimes, I think that Vice-captain Hoshina must have realised it already. He’s not dense. He just never acknowledges it. Watching how the two of them behave around each other just drives me crazy.”
Hibino barks a laugh. “You might be right.”
“I’m always right,” Kikoru retorts.
“You know,” Hibino says, still grinning, but his words are slow, contemplative, “Vice-captain Hoshina said to me once, that I should be careful about being too friendly with the other officers, because in this job, you don’t know what will happen to who.”
“At first, I didn’t really get it. I was finally a member of the Defence Force. I was finally a part of something I had always wanted to be in. I didn’t want to hold back. But, after Kaiju no. 9, and the Director-general…” He swallows, looking away. “I could see why he would say that.”
They lapse into silence. A familiar grief wells up, raw and wild and threatening to overwhelm her. Kikoru pushes it back down with furious determination, feeds it into the molten core of rage that roils and bubbles in her belly. From the corner of her vision, she watches as Hibino’s fists clench, the lingering strip of kaiju flesh stark against the tensed lines of the back of his hand.
“But,” says Hibino suddenly, startling her from her reverie, “I thought about it a bit more, and I figured, what use was being alive if you kept everyone at a distance?” He shrugged, seemingly insouciant, but his shoulders bowed as though beneath a new weight. “Letting someone in is like taking a gamble; just like how doing anything new, or even trying to reach your dreams, is a gamble. It means opening yourself up to rejection, to failure, or to loss, all of which hurts.”
He leans back on his elbows, his next set of crunches all but forgotten. They’ll both get an earful about slacking off from Hasegawa when he sees them, but Hibino continues to speak, and Kikoru finds that she is content to just listen. She forgets, sometimes, that Hibino is much older than the rest of their batch of recruits. He’s goofy enough that no one ever thinks about his age, and he rarely brings it up himself. Yet, it’s the occasional moments like this, when those extra years seep into the pauses between his sentences to shape his next words, that Kikoru becomes profoundly conscious of the fact that Hibino has, unlike the rest of them, lived another life between graduating from school and joining the Defence Force.
“That doesn’t mean that you have to let everyone in,” Hibino is saying. “You can be selective about it. About who you would trust.” His smile is wry. “It seems to me that this choice comes easier in the Defence Force. To do this job, you have to trust that your fellow officers will have your back. This means that you also have to trust that they’ll do their best to stay alive, so that they can have your back.”
“How is this relevant to Vice-captain Hoshina and Captain Narumi?” Kikoru points out. “Captain Narumi is our strongest. Surely Vice-captain Hoshina doesn’t need to worry...”
He doesn’t need to worry about him dying at all, she almost says, but stops herself in time. Beneath the bright morning sun, in the vast green of the training field, it is too easy to slip into the usual bravado that keeps the Force moving forward. Too easy to forget that it is the best ones amongst them who perish in the line of duty, so that the rest of them can live on. She doesn’t need to look further than her parents as proof of that.
“But to trust someone outside of battle is scarier,” Hibino continues as though she had not paused at all, for which she is grateful. “There are so many ways you can disappoint someone, even if you have their back. You can have the best intentions, but still hurt someone.”
“I think,” Hibino muses, “that the both of them already trust each other when it comes to fighting the kaiju. What Vice-captain Hoshina has to decide is whether he trusts Captain Narumi enough to return his trust off the field, before he decides whether to make that gamble.”
Unfortunately, Hasegawa finally spots them before she can reply.
=-=-=
The next day brings with it a joint training session in the afternoon between the First and Second Divisions and, consequently, a lunchtime crowd in the dining hall that is much larger than usual. Kikoru surveys the tables and benches that are full to bursting. She takes in the boisterous chatter and raucous laughter that seem to echo off the walls. Then, she turns on her heel, tray in hand, and decides to find out whether the rest area on the roof of the building is as good a lunchtime spot as Hibino claims it is.
Thinking about Hibino makes her recall their conversation yesterday. Inevitably, her thoughts wander yet again towards the question of Narumi and Hoshina – both of whom, she suddenly realises, weren’t at the dining hall just now, even though she knows for a fact that Hoshina is on the base today.
(She had found Hoshina in Narumi’s room again that morning – dressed neatly in his uniform jacket, drinking coffee, and seemingly oblivious to the way that Narumi had glared at her.)
She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t realise that someone else has beaten her to the rooftop until it is almost too late. She ducks back into the stairwell, and counts ten seconds before peeking out cautiously.
“Maybe you should dye your hair too,” Narumi is saying. He’s seated beside Hoshina on one of the benches that overlook the bay, and his arm is draped along the back of the bench.
“And look as silly as yer people?” Hoshina replies. His accented lilt is as teasing as it always is, but he also sounds fonder than she has ever heard him. He appears unbothered by Narumi’s encroachment into his personal space, going so far as to lean back into the crook of Narumi’s elbow, snuggling against Narumi’s side.
“Why not?” Narumi drawls. His fingers catch lightly beneath Hoshina’s chin, tilting Hoshina’s face up towards his. “You’re mine too.”
Kikoru feels her cheeks heat as Narumi reaches up with his other hand to cup Hoshina’s jaw. The Narumi she knows is all bold confidence and brazen nonchalance. This Narumi, however, is gentle, and cautious despite his words, as though he is cradling the most precious thing before him and he still can’t believe his luck.
Kikoru watches as Hoshina leans forward just enough to close the final few inches between Narumi and him. Then, she turns, and makes her way as quietly and as hastily as possible down the stairs.
She wonders how long it’ll take Hibino to notice the difference in the relationship between their two senior officers.