Chapter Text
After the destruction wreaked upon Tokyo by Kaiju no. 9 was repaired, Narumi Gen found himself feeling aimless. Sure, there were still kaiju about, and there always would be, but it wasn’t on the same level as the coordinated attacks and horrifying sentience of nine and its creations. However, he needed to stay in top form, not for the sake of the world, but for the sake of his fragile ego. He would not be beaten.
Except, Hoshina, once again, took first place in the subjugation exercise for the small monster category. He had the fastest clear time, beating Gen by exactly 4.26 seconds. Hoshina beat him by an additional half-second this year, too, adding insult to injury. Gen was maulding.
“Bowl-cut bastard,” he muttered as he rolled over in bed. Well, bed was generous. Currently, he lay on a mattress with no sheets, a simple comforter thrown on top of his body. He was getting to it, okay?! Not everyone was perfectly clean all the time, and fitted sheets always liked to pop off the corners. When you fixed one corner, the other popped off, and ugh! Annoying!
He bet Hoshina had a perfectly made bed, because Hoshina was soooooooo perfect. Always on time, never late, disciplined but well-liked, intelligent, and ohhhhhhhhh, this was making Gen even more mad. He was complimenting the enemy.
Closing his eyes, Gen willed himself to sleep. His pink eyes hurt from all the blue light streaming in from his TV, his new game console (thanks for breaking the last one, Hasegawa), hooked up to feed his gaming addiction. Before his old console had broken, he’d been into shoot ’em up games, but now he was loving this MMORPG called Grey Sands, where he got to gamble on loot and blast away totally-not-real money for a chance at limited-edition equipment and skins. It was great, though for some reason, his bank account was suffering.
He sighed, eyes closing tighter as he resisted the urge to get back up, turn on the console, and keep playing. Gen needed at least three hours of sleep or his abilities would decline, and he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t give Hoshina any more ground to surpass him, much less Hoshina’s damn superior, Ashiro, who still held the title for the sniper category…
Grumbling to himself unintelligibly, Gen eventually fell asleep, falling into a shockingly deep slumber, considering his poor sleep hygiene.
Gen didn’t dream. Really, he never dreamed—not since he’d had the lenses of Kaiju no. 1 surgically implanted in his eyes. So, that meant what he was seeing had to be real, except he hoped to hell and back it wasn’t.
Hoshina was on top of him, choking the life out of Gen, and he couldn’t lift a finger to stop him. He wanted to reach up and claw his eyes out, but Gen’s arms felt so heavy, leading to the rational conclusion that he’d been restrained. Gen gasped, eyes wide and angry, as Hoshina smirked down at him, taking a sick form of sadistic pleasure from Gen’s struggling.
Why are you doing this?! Don’t you know I’m your superior officer?!
“You know, I’d like you if you shut up more often,” Hoshina said, tightening his hand around Gen’s neck. Gen gasped—a reedy, strangled sound—and his back arched beneath the Vice Captain’s. Shouldn’t he be out cold by now…?
Hoshina continued while Gen’s mind struggled to make sense of what was happening.
“Gen,” Hoshina sang mockingly, using his given name just to mess with him even harder, “I think you like me more than you let on. Or do you just not know? Are you that stupid?”
Hoshina rocked his hips, and Gen gasped, a shock of arousal flaring up his spine. His brain was like a confused traffic light, flashing back and forth between green and red. Did he like this? Did he hate it? This couldn’t be real, right?
But there he was, hard as a rock, dick straining against his sleep shorts as Hoshina gyrated on his lap, his ass firm against Gen’s groin.
Gen wheezed out, “I don’t—like—you. You—fuck—ass—bitch.”
“Hmmm,” Hoshina hummed, tilted his head back, and looked down his nose at Gen with his fox eyes. He ground his hips again, and Gen let out a broken moan. Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Hoshina leaned down over Gen and released his neck, finally letting the man gasp for air.
Hoshina said softly, “Captain Narumi, get up.”
There was a banging sound. Gen groaned.
“Captain Narumi!” Hoshina raised his voice, but suddenly, it was more shrill and less masculine.
Huh?
“Captain Narumi!” A woman’s voice bellowed, and then suddenly Gen was sitting up straight, eyes flying open, blanket luckily covering his lap and therefore his hard-on as Shinomiya Kikoru strode into his room.
“Did you break my door?” Gen asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“It should stay broken,” Kikoru said, gesturing at the broken lock mechanism on the floor. “It’ll make it easier for me to drag your ass to meetings when you oversleep.”
Gen rubbed at his eyes again. “I haven’t slept that well in ages, damn.”
“Did you not hear the part about oversleeping?! We’re late!”
“We’re always late,” Gen said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Give me five.”
His Vice Captain glared at him. Kikoru had become less respectful and bolder the longer they knew each other, especially after she gained her new position. She didn’t take Gen’s shit and pushed him to be better, just like her father had. God, he missed that guy.
“Three minutes,” Gen amended, and she left the room.
Gen took a one-minute ice-cold shower, then dressed so quickly it’d make someone’s head spin. Nearly forgetting his shoes, Gen exited the room, adjusting his cuffs as he caught up with Kikoru, who was already walking away at a brisk pace.
“Damn, slow down,” Gen muttered, doing a hop and a skip, and he sped up to match her pace.
“Stop being such an old man,” Kikoru said under her breath.
“What was that?”
Kikoru gave him a terrifying smile. “I said, I hope you’re able to get a handle on your sleep schedule, if you know what’s good for your health.”
Gen blinked. “... Noted.”
During the block of meetings arranged that day, Gen received awful news. There would be interdivisional training exercises for three days the following month, organized to promote the exchange of skills and knowledge. The final day would be dedicated to boosting morale, an annual event focusing on division versus division matchups in games. This year, it was paintball.
Gen dreaded it this year despite usually being the most enthusiastic one. After all, it was his opportunity to strut his stuff in front of the stupid third division. He’d won the past year, like usual, despite numbers weapons and power suits being prohibited. He hadn’t needed to use his eyes to hand a shot on Hoshina, who was allowed to use paint-coated wooden short swords.
It’d been satisfying, seeing Hoshina with a splotch of pink paint soaking into his black skin-tight shirt. He’d scowled, clearly miffed with Gen, but accepted his defeat without any snide comments. It was a high like no other.
As much as he hated Hoshina, he loved the competition. Gen could only prove himself to be the best if he had worthy opponents, after all. Otherwise, it was all meaningless.
Later that night, Gen fell asleep, thinking of Hoshina and the slashes of his short swords.
Gen wasn’t sure when the scenario started, how he got to the third division’s compound, or what he was doing there. What he did know was that he heard Hoshina through a thin wall, talking to Captain Ashiro.
“Captain Narumi is so full of himself,” Hoshina said, a frown audible in his voice. “Without number one’s powers, he’d be good, but not that good.”
Ashiro answered, her voice muffled through the wall. Gen hated how she commanded a room, even with her calm, reserved voice. “I agree. Captain Narumi cannot be a true leader. He’s simply tolerated.”
The scene changed abruptly. Ashiro was standing in front of him, saying the exact same words directly to Gen. Why was she repeating herself?
Gen opened his mouth to respond, but his voice came out strangled, words unintelligible. He couldn’t rebuke them; he couldn’t argue against their words. Gen’s face screwed up into an ugly expression.
Reaching forward to grab Ashiro’s shoulder, he found the barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. He couldn’t reach up to pull it away. He was unable to step aside; Gen couldn’t move at all.
“I just want to be—“ Gen’s words were cut off as the trigger was pulled, a bullet burying itself in his brain. Everything went a fuzzy pink-grey, and then black.
It stayed black for a long time.
Gen woke up slowly. He stared at the ceiling, eyes dewy.
It was a dream, meaning all those thoughts and criticisms were his own. He hated himself as much as he acted like he was the best of the best. Gen knew his worth; he was a weapon and nothing more, and every ounce of his self-worth hinged on his ability to protect his country. Without that, he was just someone with a shitty personality who couldn’t care for himself. Burying himself in distractions, Narumi Gen was a degenerate gamer, a shopping addict, and a loser who was too invested in things that ultimately didn’t matter all for the sake of a dopamine hit.
Maybe he should get on antidepressants.
Nah.
I don’t need those.
He exercised later. Gen threw himself into each set with gusto. By the end of his morning training, his body ached, but it was a good feeling. He felt relaxed and pliant, unlike when he’d woken up. His worries felt more minor and more bearable.
Sitting down to do paperwork at Kikoru’s behest, he filled out sheet after sheet with an unusual degree of focus. At his current rate, he was actually catching up with the backlog of paperwork he’d procrastinated, and when he realized he only had a bit more to do, he slogged through the rest that night without complaint. A lower officer brought him his dinner, directed by Kikoru, who was concerned with his odd behavior.
She approached his office after hours, seeing light streaming under the door, and entered without asking. Gen was still filling out paperwork, rolling his chair between piles of folders and his laptop, typing in information as it was relevant. He was so close to finishing, but his eyes were starting to close. Who knew paperwork was so exhausting? His brain felt like it was melting out of his ears. It was harder than fighting kaiju.
“Sir,” Kikoru said, using an honorific—a rare occurrence. “You need to sleep.”
“Can’t,” Gen rejected the idea. “Need to finish.”
“You’ll burn yourself out. You’re freaking out the officers.”
“That’s their problem,” Gen said bluntly. He repeated, “I need to finish.”
Clearly put off by his responsible but unhealthy behavior, Kikoru paused. Then, she sat down beside him, pulling up the guest chair, and began to work on paperwork as well.
“I’ll fill out what I can,” she said, “you sign.”
“That’s quite literally illegal,” Gen grumbled, but he was too tired to deny needing help, “but sure. Go ahead.”
Kikoru scoffed. “Just focus. We’ll get this done.”
And they did, completing all the paperwork for the first division in months—no pile was left unprocessed.
Gen didn’t remember falling asleep that night.
He does remember waking up next to Hoshina, for some fuckin’ reason.
“What?” Gen said, suddenly very awake. “Why are you in my bed?”
Hoshina rolled over, eyes bleary with sleep, and gave Gen a small smile. He was wearing a loose, ratty white T-shirt—probably one of Gen’s. It hung off Hoshina’s slightly smaller frame, exposing his collarbone. Gen’s mouth felt too wet; his heart beat too quickly.
“Is that any way to greet your husband?” Hoshina teased, scooting closer to Gen. He wrapped his arms around Gen’s waist, pulling him into his embrace. Gen let him, mainly because he was shocked.
“What?” Gen repeated, baffled. “Husband?”
Hoshina chuckled. “You really tired yourself out last night, huh? All that paperwork melted your head.”
“Yeah…” Gen agreed, though he was still perplexed. Why was Hoshina in his bed, claiming to be his husband? That was crazy.
“I wish you took better care of yourself,” Hoshina muttered against Gen’s chest. “I know our line of work is dangerous, but you’re killing yourself slowly. Please mind your health.”
Gen’s heart felt like it was going to pop, and not in a good way. This was freaking him out. Why the fuck was Hoshina so mushy and caring? Ew.
Ew, ew, ew.
As though it was natural, Hoshina tilted his head up and kissed up and down Gen’s neck tenderly. Weirdly enough, it was a non-sexual action. It was an expression of overwhelming affection. It made Gen shiver.
“Five more minutes,” Hoshina said softly, and Gen suddenly felt very tired. His eyes drooped as he fell back asleep, confused but surprisingly content. He liked lying there, wrapped up in Hoshina’s arms, face pressed against Gen’s pulse. Gen wrapped Hoshina up, too, latching onto him with his hands and pulling him closer.
“I love you,” Hoshina whispered.
Gen felt like he’d been electrocuted.
Waking up like Frankenstein’s monster risen from the dead, Gen stared at the opposing wall of his room with wide, unseeing eyes. His vision wasn’t working, not because his eyes were broken, but because he couldn’t take in his surroundings when all he could think of was Hoshina and his stupid, pretty collarbones.
Over the past few years, since Kaiju no. 9’s attack, Narumi had grown to appreciate Hoshina’s combat abilities, sure, but he was far from liking him as a person. So why, pray tell, was he thinking of him so much? They’d barely interacted outside of mandatory meetings and rarely had reason to do so. The interdivisional training was the most time he spent around him, so maybe it was because that annual event was coming up?
That didn’t explain the content of the dreams, however. One was sexual, one was hostile, and one was romantic. That was quite the mixed bag.
Gen shook his head. He was attracted to people of any gender, so maybe he… did he find Hoshina attractive? He thought about it for a minute.
He had pretty black hair that looked almost purple in the right light, and his eyes were striking when he wasn’t smiling like some evil nine-tailed fox. He had white teeth, sharp canines that would feel nice against Gen’s neck, and lips that curled around his words in a way that made Gen angry. He hated that he found him so… so attractive.
Ugh.
It didn’t help that his physique was compact and lean, but his muscles were no joke. The force Hoshina could put behind his slashes was immense, enough to cut through the tough hide of even the strongest kaiju to get at their cores. In the baths, back years and years ago, before the great crisis, they’d been in the baths at the same time after the annual games. Gen had seen the scars that riddled his body from years of harsh training, but he also knew those were marks of victory. Those were things Hoshina had survived.
It made his stomach feel heavy when he realized he also admired Hoshina, to a degree. While Gen would hiss and spit and degrade him with his words, internally, he knew Hoshina was beyond competent. He’d likely make captain one day.
Double ugh.
Gen rubbed at his eyes. There were a few weeks before the games, meaning he had some time to crush this… crush, or whatever it was. What it was was gross.
Hoshina.
As if.