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Numbers never lie.
Numbers are wholly dependable. They have served Okonogi well during her time as operations leader for the Third Division. With numbers, she can successfully support her comrades in the field and assess the situation in real time. She can ensure they all have the best chance possible in making it back after deployment.
So when the numbers had revealed a staggering Fortitude 9.8, it could only mean one thing: Kaiju Number 8 had appeared directly within their sights.
Right in the pivotal moment, when it all seemed dire.
Numbers tend to explain things best. Their language is clearcut and concise. When put together, a sequence can speak faster than a sentence. Numbers can even provide context even before the visual feed. But as the die is cast and their time races towards the tipping point, the numbers do not tell Okonogi that Kaiju Number 8 has been in their midst this entire time.
It's the strained voices of her comrades that reveal everything, calling out the same name in horror - Hibino Kafka. It's the Vice-Captain rushing forwards in desperation before a sudden stop. It's the thundering roar that shakes their foundations and distorts the comms link as Kaiju Number 8 leaps into the air to face the looming peril head-on.
All any of them can do is watch it happen with bated breath. Watch as one of their own takes the helm in an impossible situation. In the most selfless way. For their sake. Because all other options had been exhausted. To be brutally honest, there were no other options. The numbers proved as much.
Okonogi refuses to accept being helpless, but numbers can do very little here. Numbers can't protect them from the imminent shockwave. Numbers will not make the truth any easier to digest.
Numbers can't soften Kafka's fall from startling heights when the danger has passed.
Following the collision, a vast majority of the Third Division is reduced to ruin. But were it not for the actions of one man, it could have been so much worse. Okonogi knows the numbers would confirm her analysis.
It's a meagre comfort in the aftermath. There is barely a moment for the dust to settle in the fallout before the world turns relentlessly on. And from this point on, nothing will ever be the same again.
This is so much bigger than the Third Division now. In every sense possible, their hands are tied.
For Hibino Kafka, that is quite literally the reality he faces. Okonogi watches from the screen of the control tower as he's herded down hallways towards a containment room.
As Kafka walks, his eyes are cast to the ground. Head bowed and lips pursed tight. He seems fully resigned to his fate. Ready to accept whatever grim outcome awaits. So very different in demeanour to the person Okonogi and others in the Third Division have warmly welcomed.
To be powerless in the face of protocol is a frustrating dilemma. One Okonogi never thought she’d find herself in. She's always been dedicated to the cause. Yet her hands tremble as she sends her readings on Kaiju Number 8 directly to HQ as requested.
When she gets the alert that intricate preparations are being made to move Kafka to Ariake by the end of tomorrow, her stomach lurches.
Logically and logistically, it’s the best call. The Third Division already has a colossal clean-up to take care of. And then there’s the process of harvesting Kaiju Number 10. They are ill-equipped to handle much more.
The control room is quiet in the wake of the ambush. A silence has sunken into the walls, weathering all expressions. Okonogi glances around the room to observe her operations team. They all are shaken by this.
Given the numbers - a staggering zero casualties, a handful of injuries - the mood should be brighter. They just survived the unsurvivable. They beat impossible odds. The numbers indicate, were it not for intervention, this could have utterly decimated the Third Division.
But there's no celebration or good spirits. There is nothing joyful about any of it because it's come at a great cost. That poignant atmosphere seems to permeate across the whole base. Haunts every person who is still alive thanks to the actions of their resident kaiju-in-waiting-
No.
Okonogi adjusts her glasses, sucks in a sharp breath.
Hibino Kafka is not a monster. He might be Kaiju Number 8, but he's unfathomably human. Perhaps more human than any of them could ever hope to be.
Despite his many failings, Hibino Kafka persists. Okonogi can respect that. His dreams, however unlikely, are stronger and more durable than the crushing weight of any insecurity or his underwhelming numbers. Okonogi is not being unkind about this, she is simply factual in the matter.
There's no denying Kafka has been disappointing in virtually every test she has run. His vitals are unimpressive at best. Even to this day, the overall data on Kafka has hardly changed.
To reiterate - numbers don't lie.
Still, Okonogi can admit - begrudgingly - that numbers don't always tell the full story. It's very rare for that to happen. But it stands to reason that is the case with Kafka. Taking into account other factors, such as his sheer determination to persevere no matter what, is also important.
Kafka puts the handful of skills he does possess to good use - acquiring information on the kaiju and sharing that knowledge. He vows to help his fellow comrades, to do whatever he can. His innate ability to encourage and motivate the people around him with mere words is appreciated too.
These qualities have never faltered.
In normal circumstances, that would be nothing more than admirable given his shocking numbers. A story to commiserate and commemorate when the time comes for new recruits to sign up. It would not merit becoming an officer, yet alone passing the entrance exam in the first place.
On paper, it's unthinkable and beyond absurd to allow him into the Defence Force. He’s a glaring abnormality in their operating procedures. The numbers remain unremarkable.
Yet somehow, what Hibino Kafka has actually achieved is remarkable. To be frank, it’s never been done before. In all her time at the Third Division, Okonogi never even considered that it could happen.
What a frustrating paradox.
Kafka can’t be measured through the meticulous methodology Okonogi applies to those in her charge. He doesn’t fit into a neat tidy box that can be ticked off when the paperwork swings around.
Nothing about him and his numbers make sense. Because this isn't about the numbers. It never has been.
Even excluding the phenomenon of Kaiju Number 8, there is so much more to this story. It’s one of the most exceptional circumstances Okonogi has witnessed to date in her career.
Kafka holds the Vice-Captain's absolute attention, the magnitude of which Okonogi has never seen before.
Unwavering and unyielding. Fierce and firm. Devoted and disciplined. These layers might be surprising given what is splayed across the surface. The raw and very real magnetism is bottled up behind bustling amusement and laughter. There’s lots of laughter. More than Okonogi has seen from the Vice-Captain in quite some time.
Some days, Kafka simply existing seems to be enough to have the Vice-Captain howling on the floor like a wild - and very unprofessional - creature. The teasing is a common factor chasing around the corner of the Vice-Captain's mouth. Hanging on the edge of each word and all in a manner that is unbearably fond.
Okonogi had realised early on that this was his personal way of motivating Kafka. Because of all things, Hoshina believes in the whispers of potential. He never outright says it, but his actions are all the evidence she requires to piece it together. From taking Kafka under his wing as a cadet, to promoting him to a fully-fledged Officer.
Hoshina has firmly planted himself in Kafka's corner since the very beginning.
In short, Okonogi sees how care and concern goes well beyond the calls of duty. It grows at an unprecedented rate. Breaks way out of its bounds until it eclipses every pretence for measured, calculated distance.
To inspire such fervent loyalty in the Vice-Captain so fast - Okonogi had been gravely concerned the second she caught wind of it. So she takes it upon herself to keep tabs on any future developments. Careful observations unbeknownst to anybody else.
The numbers are no help in this. But her findings are just as conclusive.
Hoshina doesn’t look at Kafka because he thinks he needs to anymore. That ship sailed the second he committed to this cause. Hoshina wants to look, so he does.
More, he is compelled to.
Okonogi can be certain of this because she's seen this same look before. Just once. In a bookshop during their formative years, when Hoshina stumbled across a cover that caught his eye. It was unusual for him to pick something to read this way. He typically had a list and stuck to whatever he had set out to find.
Never be taken by the cover, Okonogi - words are the key, he had said with a smile as if gifting her unspeakable wisdom. Yet on that trip, Hoshina couldn't bring himself to look away from that book. He'd carried it through the shop and promptly forgotten about his list.
Of course, when the Vice-Captain is set on something there's no changing his mind.
Okonogi had spotted the cover peeking out his bag for weeks on end. The sprawling colours of a watercolour horizon, the amber sun simmering on the hills, the silhouette of the birds.
It quickly became one of his favourite books.
Kafka is exactly like that. A striking cover that throws order out of balance. Everything he does coaxes the Vice-Captain closer into orbit. Deeper into the fray despite the risks.
Hoshina has the kind of unshakeable faith in Kafka that belongs in the realm of irrational. Sentimental and borderline senseless. Yet it's rooted deep into his being. Wrapped so tightly around his bones that not even the recent turmoil can rattle it loose and yank it out of his system completely.
It’s a real danger to himself. The blind spot he’s overlooked.
How unlike the Vice-Captain.
Knowing Hoshina, his affinity to push right to the brink and yet still appear so put-together, Okonogi decides to keep a watchful eye during these testing times. He can be deceptive sometimes, entirely by design. He could slip a supernova right under the radar if he really wanted to. Hardly reassuring given all she has observed and catalogued away.
So Okonogi remains wary. And her instincts are sadly proven correct the second they cross the threshold. For Kaiju Number 8 to escape Hoshina's detection at every hurdle despite being so close this entire time - it's yet another first. New cadets quickly learn nothing gets past their Vice-Captain.
Hoshina isn't one to miss the mark. But with Kafka, he lowered his guard. He chose against his better judgement to fold.
Needless to say, Hoshina is not taking any of this well.
Back at the training grounds, Okonogi caught the crestfallen expression on his face as they carted Kafka away. Eyes shielded from view, head bowed, mouth curled into a devastating shape. Alarmingly still. Devoid of the perpetual motion that has always defined him.
It's a worrying picture. Exactly what Okonogi feared might happen.
Hoshina had been taken straight to the medical ward after several insistent prompts from Okonogi. He went with little fuss but barely stayed long enough to cover the bare minimum treatments needed.
Unfortunately, the numbers had worked against Okonogi in the matter. Once they were favourable, even if still below the desired level, Hoshina deemed himself fit for discharge. Throwing himself back into the fire without hesitation. Driven by the responsibility pressed down on his shoulders.
There's a lot to do, yes. Kafka's life hangs in the balance - Okonogi can’t pretend to be delicate about that. But given how much Hoshina insists others get their rest, it's really hypocritical of him to stagger through the hallways on such low reserves.
The Vice-Captain can be quite infuriating this way. He won't listen to reason once his heart takes the lead. Where that lures him is obvious. Okonogi didn't have to track his trajectory to predict the final destination.
Of course. Where else.
Hoshina goes where he is needed - even at his own expense.
Captain Ashiro is already deep in communication with HQ to ascertain the due process. Her plate is piled high and the workload only climbs. Okonogi knows she'll be doing her best to secure Kafka the greatest chance at survival and safety.
That leaves the Vice-Captain to navigate these tumultuous waters for the meantime. And he does so with a brave face. Standing diligently in the corner of the containment room, eyes never once leaving Kafka. He's the anchor in a room that is reeling. He refuses to be anything else.
One again, Kafka holds the Vice-Captain's absolute attention. Unwavering and unyielding. Fierce and firm. Devoted and disciplined.
Torn between responsibility to his duties and to the person he has grown immeasurably close to. It’s a battle that never once breaks out over skin. Tucked away - a personal kind of carnage. Of course, Hoshina would sacrifice the parts of himself he deems unfit for purpose. Set the pyre alight whilst strapped to it.
But however the Vice-Captain feels, he isn't alone. The whole of the Third Division is on his side. They always will be.
If the stakes are personal enough to forget that, Okonogi has no choice but to remind him. That thought propels her into determined motion. She pushes out of her seat with more force than necessary.
"I'll be back shortly," Okonogi tells the team.
Nobody questions her hasty retreat. They also have the grace to pretend that she didn’t just take one of the handheld screens with her. Equipment meant for this room only during missions. She’s even enforced this rule several times in the past to her team.
So Okonogi might have officially lost the plot, but she seldom loses her nerve. For her comrades, she will toe the line. She glances down at the remote feed as she walks. An unreadable expression plagues Hoshina's face.
But the numbers don't lie. She notes the instability of his vitals. Breathing shallow and not at all regulated. Pulse swings erratically despite his cool, well-practised demeanour. The numbers detect a heart that has nothing left to break yet continues to shatter.
Numbers never lie.
Numbers tell Okonogi, that right now, the Vice-Captain needs her.
"Permission to enter, Vice-Captain Hoshina!” Okonogi calls from the doorway of the containment room.
Even with her disruption, Hoshina makes no move to draw his attention away from the centre of the room. Eyes trained ahead sharply, lips pinched together as he watches Kafka with potent intensity. The kind that is bound to implode, couldn’t possibly withstand such immense force for much longer.
Okonogi is yet to pull up the numbers. But she’s certain they won’t be good. Once again, Hoshina is straddling his limits and no matter the discomfort he’s doing it solely for Kakfa.
Kafka, who sits there slumped in the containment seat with his arms trapped behind his back. Kafka, who has been this way for hours and has yet to look at anyone or anything. Kafka, whose fate is yet to be determined as Kaiju Number 8.
"What is it, Okonogi?" Hoshina finally asks, voice clipped around the edges to a severe degree. As if he can't stand to surrender against the pressure splitting the syllables apart.
Not here. Not now.
Okonogi clutches tighter at the device in her hands. Oh dear. In person, this is so much worse. Gutting. He sounds like a shipwreck and he looks like the violent crashing waves that would have caused such damage in the first place.
"I'm here to relieve the current analysts of their monitoring duties."
At that, Hoshina does look up. Surprise flashes across his face. Weary eyes snap open wide in realisation. Of course, he clocks her meaning. The two operations members at the computers seem none the wiser. If anything, they look both relieved to be leaving the terse epicentre.
Little victories.
Still, that isn't enough.
Okonogi is fully aware the comms link is being recorded and fed to HQ during this time. It was one of their stipulations in the announcement that Kaiju Number 8 had been captured. She wouldn't be surprised if the camera feed in the room was also being monitored.
For the best chance of success, Okonogi needs to do this as close to the book as possible. She sets the device in her arms down onto the table, taps away at the screen and it's absolutely pointless. Entirely for show. But only she needs to know that. The facade of clicking buttons and looking focused can work wonders.
It's a backdrop of noise HQ will appreciate for now.
"As Operations Leader of this base, it is my personal responsibility to overlook the data collected on Kaiju Number Eight."
"Very well," Hoshina concedes.
With an absent gesture to the two lingering members of operations, he nods. His movements are stiff. It's the most he's moved in hours.
"You're dismissed."
"Yes sir!” With a salute to the Vice-Captain, the men exit the room. The door hisses shut behind them.
And then there were three.
It’s hardly any better this way. The tension merely festers. Okonogi can hardly stand it. She wonders how Hoshina hasn’t crumbled on the spot. It must be taking all of his strength to keep standing.
He’s a force of nature. Truly incredible.
Okonogi slips into one of the seats, scanning over the computer. As expected, the numbers match Kafka's profile. Underwhelming, normal, ordinary. She glances up to the camera in the far right corner of the room, adjusts her position a fraction. Just enough for her back to conveniently cover the computer screen.
Their priority is to watch Kaiju Number 8. But you can never be too careful.
Hoshina holds solid in his position, as if pinned in place to the wall. Perhaps Kafka is not the only one in confinement here. But at least the Vice-Captain’s breath on the exhale gets longer. Less shaky than before.
That’s a promising start.
In the centre of the room, Kafka remains silent. A gaping, gushing wound that no bandage could hope to heal. A shell of his former self.
To be honest, Okonogi is unsure whether her presence will really make a huge difference to him. But that doesn't deter her efforts in the slightest. She'll continue to do her best.
"Detecting no abnormalities thus far," Okonogi observes aloud. "No signs of transformation. Readings appear to be entirely…"
Eyes press shut for a beat. A deep anchoring breath. She continues.
"They're entirely human in nature."
Hoshina casts her a sharp glance, cutting enough to practically hear. His concern is appreciated but it's not what Okonogi is aiming for right now. She won't settle for anything less than a lapse in the tension.
No matter how brief.
Adjusting her glasses, Okonogi pulls up the window to begin her true work.
"Noting minimal disturbances in main vitals." Click. Tap. "Potential onset of mild dehydration. Pulse remains stable."
She recalls the plastic bag Hoshina had grappled with several hours ago. He set it outside the door as if unsure how to proceed under these conditions. Under watchful ears and eyes from superiors who most certainly would never see this from their perspective.
For Hoshina's kindness to be called into question, to be potentially reprimanded - that's not something Okonogi will ever let happen.
Yet despite the bitter taste on her tongue, Okonogi can't exactly fault HQ for it either. They have no frame of reference beyond the numbers. Numbers provide information without bias. And these numbers clearly suggest Kaiju Number 8 is a threat to contain until they can determine its usefulness or arrange for neutralisation.
From the numbers alone, Okonogi would agree with that assessment. For the security and safety of the nation, there can be no mistakes. No foot set wrong.
The numbers say they are dealing with a terrifying monster.
Strange.
Numbers aren't supposed to lie.
Okonogi looks up from the screen to see the camera blink off right on cue.
"We've just gone dark." She points to the comms link in her ears as she stands. "It must be a minor power surge from the damage we're experiencing after the attack."
That's it. The catalyst.
Hoshina springs off the wall. A monumental force set loose in an erratic burst with no clue where it's headed or how to land. But no matter the challenge, he'll find his footing again. He always does.
Okonogi makes her way to the automatic doors. As they open, she picks up the plastic bag left outside containing water bottles and a few meagre snacks. Anything that could be grabbed in a hurry without raising too much suspicion. The water, once crisp and cold, is now room temperature. She pushes it in Hoshina's direction, expectantly.
"I suspect we have twelve minutes and fifty-seven seconds until everything comes back online."
Hoshina takes the bag from her hands, mystified.
"What." Pause. "Okonogi, what the hell are you playing at."
He's never looked at her this way before. Genuinely shocked. All perceptions and neatly-catalogued ideas abruptly uprooted. As if truly seeing her for the first time. Not only as a respected comrade, as a treasured friend. But Okonogi isn't going to let the Vice-Captain waste these precious moments on a conversation they can have later.
"I'm not sure what you're implying, Vice-Captain."
Expression pinched, she nods firmly. Two different answers given at once. Hoshina is smart enough to understand what she means. Much like her, he doesn't just read the numbers and settle at that. Hoshina is fiercely intuitive that way.
"Okonogi…" he breathes, her name cracked open in a way that hurts her heart.
It aches.
Hoshina doesn't have to be so grateful for this - it's really not much in the scheme of things. Not considering all they've faced. Whilst Okonogi knows her efforts are important and would never minimise her work, Hoshina is the one out there on the front lines. Slicing through their enemies.
This is a simple job in comparison. Granted she shouldn't be doing it at all, but she could actually do it with her eyes closed.
"I'll investigate the cause this instant and get the problem fixed!"
With that, Okonogi heads back to the computer. She taps idly at the keypad to no real avail.
From her vantage point, she has both Kafka and Hoshina clearly in her sights. Okonogi endeavours not to encroach on the burgeoning moment too much. But the position paired with her observant nature make that near impossible.
Hoshina nods in her direction. Confirmation he understands. More, that he implicitly trusts her with this. Okonogi is honoured to be held in such high esteem. The Vice-Captain is a person she has always greatly admired.
Back at the beginning of their work together, to get on his radar at all felt like a massive achievement. Though in reality, Hoshina seemed to notice her talents quickly. Keen to file the paperwork and push for her to become Operations Leader.
He's always been that way. So willing and ready to carve a path for others.
Okonogi can't clear a path with blades or fancy weapons. That's not her forte or remotely appropriate. But she hopes this will be enough of an opening for him.
Hoshina lingers on the threshold a beat longer. He must swiftly realise time is of the essence because he bursts into action. Resolved, he crouches down beside Kafka with the plastic bag.
The water bottle clicks open. In the oppressive silence, it sounds jarring. Like a Defence Force weapon loaded up to fire off rounds. It shoots right through Okonogi's chest. She continues her mindless taps to fill up the time. Her fingers slip over the keys.
Odd. Her hands feel heavier than before.
Kafka stares down at the offering in confusion. In the manner of a person who believes they are unworthy of something so basic, which is concerning. Okonogi might have intervened too late. She should have gotten here sooner.
But a minor miracle occurs, then. For the first time in hours, hollow eyes sweep up from the floor. A slow tentative trail towards the pale plains of Hoshina's face. Closer and closer until Kafka falters at the last second as if afraid - no.
That's not quite it.
Okonogi catches the wince against the restraints, the clench of his jaw. She notes the rapid jolt of his pulse on her screen. Numbers tell the story with ease: Kafka is ashamed to face the Vice-Captain. He can't stand to be seen or acknowledged by him.
Being in the same room all this time is one thing, communicating is another. As expected, Hoshina notices it too.
"Look at me," he says, craning forwards but never making direct contact. The firm separation is agonising. So unlike them.
"Come on. You owe me that much, at least."
Kafka clamps his eyes shut tightly. He sinks further into the seat. The tears track down his face.
"I-I can't."
His voice is dry and cracked. Painful to process. So very far from the energetic, buoyant sound Okonogi has gotten to know. It's horrible.
The Vice-Captain doesn't relent in his efforts. If anything, Hoshina is all the more motivated by what he's faced with.
"Kafka."
His voice splinters in the absence of surveillance. Free to break, bend and fold under the crushing weight of all they're set against. Vulnerable and all the more valorous for it.
"Look at me. Please."
Desperation creeps into the words. Kafka relents. Surrenders to the request.
Their eyes catch.
Okonogi hitches a breath. The moment is charged beyond measure. Elastic pulled taut ready to snap. A messy culmination of emotions with nowhere left to go but to cleave deeper into their bones. Carve up skin to leave a mark there.
Numbers would struggle to pin such a thing down. Numbers would omit this because numbers are not influenced by feeling.
It's probably for the best.
"Hoshina-" Kafka grits his teeth. Sucks in a ragged gasp of air. "I'm sorry."
The water bottle is pushed against his face in response, right along the fading tear tracks. Okonogi can't be sure from her position, but it looks like Hoshina's hands are shaking. That is the only explanation for the way water careens over the top, spills down Kafka's chin. The Vice-Captain leans over to wipe it away with his thumb. The gentlest graze across skin.
Kafka flinches at the touch. Hoshina jolts back, eyes wide and visibly stung by this. Seconds stretch out only to shatter around them. Time a poignant wheel that won't stop turning in circles.
What they need right now is a line to cross. But they're formless in the fallout.
Though admittedly, that might just be because Okonogi's vision is blurring. She dabs meekly at her eyes and ducks her head. Her fingers curl into a fist. From all she’s observed, they have the ability to overcome this. Their numbers are damned but the numbers don’t count here. The Vice-Captain she knows is capable of just about anything. When he sets his mind to something, he is a force to be reckoned with. His heart is equally as devoted. She's seen it firsthand, watched ardent affection pour from the cracks in the armour. A devouring and utterly relentless stream.
That very thing unfolds right now before her eyes. Hoshina persists against all odds. Chases down the splintering moment.
It makes sense, that he would love as fiercely as he fights.
"Drink."
Hoshina tilts the bottle towards Kafka's mouth. He pours the water attentively. Every fibre of his being honed on the action. He scans Kafka's face carefully for cues to pause. Somehow finds them. Then waits for confirmation before continuing. He does all of this with a biting tenderness Okonogi has never seen from him before. As if his whole world hangs in the balance of this one small gesture.
Perhaps it does.
The faint anomalies in Kafka's vitals seem to be improving. Almost completely normal. The numbers suggest that despite everything he must be experiencing, Kafka feels safe here. Okonogi even notes some healthy colour returns to his face once the water bottle is finished.
Hoshina rummages through the plastic bag. "Better?"
"Mm," Kafka manages.
His voice is fuller. Much more comfortable to the ears than earlier. He cocks his head toward the bag as best he can in his position.
"You should drink something too."
A breathless noise barrels out of Hoshina. The closest thing to a laugh he can muster during this time. It lacks all the joy nestled into their usual conversations. The sound is poignant. Okonogi much prefers the stifling silence. But she's glad Kafka made the suggestion nonetheless.
The Vice-Captain forgets himself sometimes. He seems to believe struggle is a consistent part of his story. He never considered that could ever change. Hoshina has no idea how to lay that burden down. How to be free from that rattling cage etched into his bones.
It's a double-edged sword he wields so well. The sharpest point directed back at himself.
Okonogi wishes for Hoshina to accept his strength fully in all its might. Not in spite of the odds or supposed flaws and drawbacks of his style. Yes - Okonogi has her faults too, of course. She can hardly claim to be a perfect person. But that's not what this is about.
When you care for someone, you want to see them go beyond surviving silent battles and inner insecurities. You want to see them truly thrive. Accomplish everything they dream of and more.
You want them to take the chance when something beautiful comes along. Even if it's hard and yanks at every heartstring.
Hoshina pulls out a kit kat from the plastic bag. He snaps a chunk off the bar with an exasperated sigh.
"Hey now." He waves the chocolate in the air for emphasis. "You're hardly in a position to be worrying about others."
"Yeah."
Kafka smiles weakly. All of him ghosting in and out of focus. He throws his head back, hitting the chair that holds him with a dull thud. Eyes trained on the ceiling, faraway and elsewhere.
"Tell me about it.” A shaky sigh. “I seriously messed up."
At that admission, Hoshina shrugs. Now having more to do with his hands, he appears a little more centred in his convictions. He takes the toll for both of them and carries it without complaints. Now, he embodies the anchor he aimed to be from the start. His gravity is as uncompromising as it is reassuring. Kafka succumbs to it.
"Whatever way you dice it," Hoshina inches closer, voice dipped low yet no less resolute. "The truth is, none of us would be here if it weren't for your actions."
He is absolutely correct.
Without Kaiju Number 8, the Third Division would have been decimated. Hoshina knows just how to steer Kafka off the ledge where frayed nerves gather. Away from the fizzling livewire. Hoshina chose these words because they would be the most effective deterrent. He knows Kafka can have no real counter argument when faced with the crux of the matter.
Okonogi suspects the subject will come up again later. But right now, Hoshina is prioritising what Kafka needs in order to be brave. For the sake of his own future.
"Don't think I suddenly approve of your terrible food choices." Hoshina gestures to the chocolate melting between the heat of his fingers. "This was all I could find on short notice."
They fall into a simple rhythm, then. And Okonogi is reminded that when it comes to Kafka and Hoshina, numbers behave differently. She's witnessing this phenomenon in real time.
The whispers of all that has come before is beckoned into the cracks. Hoshina pushes pieces of kit kat against Kafka's mouth. He's far less gentle than he was with the water. Close to playful. As teasing as he can be in this waning sanctuary. Kafka furiously chomps down the chocolate, as if only just noticing how hungry he is.
The transformations must be exhausting on his body. It ought to be impossible, existing in such parameters. Veering between extremes. Okonogi frowns at the thought. For the first time, she doesn’t want to see the numbers.
Things are complicated enough.
Kafka turns his head away. A jerky, abrupt move that breaks their seamless tandem. Cheeks flushed. Eyes averted.
"Hey,” he manages, barely. “You don't have to do this."
"You didn't have to go and reveal your big secret," Hoshina counters smoothly, not missing a beat.
He smushes what remains of the bar against Kafka's face, practically shovelling it into his mouth. Borderline relentless in his pursuit of caregiving. It's kind of endearing, a little horrifying. They might have to talk about this later too. This probably isn't how you should feed the love of your life.
"Of course I did!" Okonogi thinks Kafka says between messy bites.
Hoshina clicks his tongue. "Chew before you talk."
Kafka follows the order at alarming speed. The second he's finished, he carries on. Hoshina scrunches the kit kat wrapper in his fist as he listens. A crunchy backdrop to the words. That always irritated Okonogi - needless rustling and noise from empty packaging. It makes her skin crawl and insides curdle.
But she'll let it slide for now. These are extenuating circumstances, after all.
"I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."
There it is. What the numbers have struggled to capture in Kafka time and time again, what they always seem to miss. His innate goodness. The courage of his heart in a crisis.
Hoshina swipes absently at the chocolate stains around Kafka’s mouth. His thumb drags slowly along skin. This time, the touch is well-received. Like a balm pressed against a sore bruise. Kafka has this innate ripple effect. It's fascinating. He breaks Hoshina down into his simplest, purest form. A kind person who wants to help others. A person who has the capacity to love with absolution. A person who holds nothing back for the sake of those he cares about.
"Then you can understand," Hoshina says, wiping down his hands. “Because our motivations are similar.”
He tosses the wrapper into the bag, at last. But the rustling doesn’t stop. There’s something building here beneath the surface. Okonogi can sense it and her curiosity brims. She swivels in her seat a fraction to get a better look. She’s just in time to witness Hoshina roll back his shoulders, tip his chin up towards the ceiling to heave in a final breath.
It's a sequence of actions reserved for battle. The private ritual he does to prepare himself. Hoshina is bracing for impact. For what, Okonogi has no clue. Numbers predict the pattern but she lacks important context.
"Kafka.” Pause. “Would you have ever told me?"
Oh dear.
Okonogi hears all the things bubbling beneath the loaded question. Insecurity claws at Hoshina mercilessly. Climbs up into his throat to pry the words apart. The strain in his voice is deeply unsettling. Rare and raw. His restless desire to be trusted, to be deemed worthy of the big secret - it veers on the edge of obsession.
Hoshina wants to be good enough. He will settle for little else. This is a quest for private validation and the Vice-Captain yearns for nothing more than to be wrong in his suspicions.
He believes in Kafka.
He just doesn't believe his own pages measure up.
Kafka's expression twists. He favours the floor once more. It says everything there is to possibly say. Okonogi wishes he would just stop there. Keep it simple. Make it easy. Let it go and not be stubborn for once in his life.
Kafka's honesty is refreshing and comes from a place of genuine sincerity. But in this moment, it will certainly destroy what is left of their wonderful Vice-Captain.
"…I really wanted to."
Okonogi clasps her hands together. Squeezes tight. From across the room, she hears the sharp intake of shuddering breath. The Vice-Captain doesn't do well with platitudes and well-meaning intentions that lead nowhere. Of course, it would be the same in this situation.
This is another way Hoshina loves, she realises - with reckless abandon. Like he's starving for it and would go to incredible lengths for the smallest morsel. Because despite his efforts, he never really expects Kafka to look back and notice.
Okonogi notes the tension creep into his shoulders, posture taut and rigid. She wants to shake Hoshina out of this despairing place whilst there’s still time.
Kafka has given himself completely. He would probably go further if provided an opportunity. To prove himself, to exceed expectations.
And this is precisely why their numbers are so foreboding. Neither of them know where or how to stop when it comes to each other. The Vice-Captain can claim he does. But Okonogi has seen the gleam in the corners of his eyes after a gruelling fight. The yearning for more. The desire to descend into the jaws of that hungry beast. He may never act on it, but it's there.
Lurking.
With Kafka, it’s a near constant thrum.
The camera light blinks. Comms start to whir awake and it could not come at a worse time.
Okonogi suppresses the urge to bang her head against the table. Honestly, she was only trying to help. They almost made it.
"I've determined the source of the outage!" she chimes, glancing over at the camera. "We'll be back online in forty seconds."
Hoshina scoops up the bag. He makes a stand for all the wrong reasons. And no. This is not acceptable. Whatever the numbers might say, everything is far from fine. Okonogi refuses to let it end this way. Not after all her hard work. She darts to her feet and marches over.
“Give me that!” She snatches the pesky bag away and promptly goes against every instinct. The bag scrunches up in her hands. She shoves it into the pocket of her lab coat.
There. Now she is the only person who can be accused of rustling about and causing problems.
Arms folded across her chest, Okonogi stares Hoshina down.
“You now have thirty-five seconds.” Make it count, she doesn’t say. Doesn’t need to. It’s obvious enough.
Right now, Okonogi is not acting as Operations Leader. But her determination burns with all the same intensity. Hoshina looks like he has many things to say about that. His expression bewildered and bemused. But he should put more focus into what he really wants to do.
Be selfish just this once. Chase the moment down. Take the window of opportunity before it slams shut for god knows how long. Seriously. Okonogi wants to scream it out from the top of her lungs until her throat is hoarse. Flail her arms and make a scene.
Forget about the numbers. Forget everything else.
Come on!
Kafka takes the initiative.
"Hey, Hoshina," he starts. "Do I still have your one percent?"
Over his shoulder, Hoshina offers a wistful smile. Hopeful despite their horizon. Returned wholly to himself in a heartbeat. And it’s really that simple for them, that easy. With a handful of words, Kafka has tugged him back into orbit. Back to the echoes of all they’ve ever been.
Okonogi wonders if Kafka truly knows just how much of an impact he has on the Vice-Captain. How far his reach extends. The knot of tension loosens. The cautious guard comes shattering down. Hoshina spins on his heel to face Kafka.
"You've always had way more than that. When you come back-"
When, Hoshina says with such searing conviction. Not if. Testament to his blazing faith in Kafka, in what unfolds between them.
"You’ll have to beat me in a fight first. Maybe then I'll give you the real number."
Eyes welling up, Kafka nods. "Okay. I won’t hold back."
Okonogi watches their exchange with bated breath. She counts the seconds down. With each word, Hoshina moves closer to his target. Bolder than he’s been before. Daring in his determination. It's about time.
“Be sure that you don’t. I’ll know if you go easy on me.”
Kafka shakes his head fondly. It’s the most relaxed he’s looked in hours. Melted into the chair out of warmth rather than defeat. The Vice-Captain towering over him seems to amplify this reaction.
“There’s no way that could happen. You almost got me last time.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Hoshina takes Kafka’s face into his hands, cradling it like something precious as he settles into the slither of space between them. “I won’t let you escape me again.”
The kiss pressed against Kafka’s forehead is agonisingly chaste. But that’s not to say it isn’t passionate. Because it most certainly is. Hoshina does nothing by halves. It’s an incredibly intimate scene, searing and soothing all at once. Okonogi feels overwhelmed just standing around in the periphery. She isn't surprised that Kafka's vitals spike and his cheeks flush.
But apparently, the Vice-Captain isn't finished yet.
Hoshina delivers another kiss to the same spot. Just as tender and affirming. Lips graze down, along Kafka's cheekbones. Then across the jawline. Tracking along every inch of the face, mapping out every corner. Hoshina takes his time despite not having any left. He goes slowly, surely. And then he lingers, right on the edge of Kafka's mouth.
Okay. Good for them but Okonogi has seen enough now. Her work here is decidedly done. She makes her way back to the computer, back turned to give them some privacy.
“We can talk about everything later.” She hears Hoshina whisper against skin. “Just focus on getting back here."
Kafka makes a strangled noise in his exhaustion, incapable of much else. It veers too close to a sob. Undone entirely by the sheer devotion cast his way. Hoshina holds him through it. He rakes his fingers through Kafka's hair with fierce affection, making small circles with the drag of his nails.
“Vice-Captain!” Okonogi calls out, the only warning she can give them. She hates that their time is up. But it's out of her hands now. To fool HQ once is risky enough. Okonogi dares not try twice.
“We’re regaining connection.”
Hoshina springs back from Kafka. He settles back against the wall, as if he never left the spot to begin with. Watching. Waiting. Steadfast in the event of whatever comes next. His expression is carefully neutral, but Okonogi can tell he's wired up. The fire rekindled, embers flaring back to life.
Ready and raring to blaze on.
“Systems back online,” Okonogi says to the computer. Her smile is fragile and needs a place to hide. “Power appears to be stabilised following the surge. Continuing to monitor all vitals.”
From the wall, Hoshina remains quiet. But when their eyes meet across the room, Okonogi hears all the words he cannot say. Nestled in the corners. Faint and fleeting enough to be missed. Gratitude, respect and admiration rolled up and delivered in one silent blow.
The gravity of it is startling. Okonogi blinks back the moisture in her eyes. She nods diligently in Hoshina's direction before returning to her screen. Back to the numbers. Because numbers are dependable. They have never led Okonogi astray in the field. Numbers got her this far and they are sure to assist in future. However she can help, the numbers are bound to support her endeavours.
Numbers never lie.
But concerning Hoshina and Kafka, numbers are not the absolute truth. Their foundations are built from something that ultimately can't be measured. If Okonogi had to put a number on it, she would struggle to find the set of digits that articulate just how unprecedented and unbelievable their dynamic truly is.
Despite this, there is one thing Okonogi can be sure of. One thing that cannot be questioned or disputed. She can say with complete certainty that no number could ever come close to it.
The fortitude of their hearts.