The time was around 9:00 p.m. Traffic on the main thoroughfare had grown sparse, but a large cluster of young people was walking up the sidewalk. At first glance, they appeared to be a group of college students. A closer look, however, would reveal the densely packed muscle on each of their bodies. These men and women were all in excellent shape.
They were new recruits to the Japan Defense Force’s Third Division, which made its headquarters in the city of Tachikawa. Most were still fresh-faced youths in their teens or twenties. One man, however, walking near the very end of the pack, looked for all the world like an instructor taking his students on a field trip. Kafka Hibino, age thirty-two, was this year’s oldest successful applicant to the Japan Defense Force, and he was covering his mouth with one hand. His face was pale, and his legs were quivering. “Urp! I think I’m gonna puke.”
Reno Ichikawa was the young man that Kafka was leaning on for support. “Didn’t I tell you that was too much to drink?” he said.
“The food was great too, though. I just got carried away.”
“I’m glad you seem to have enjoyed it,” Haruichi Izumo said with a relaxed smile. His father ran the largest domestic producer of anti-kaiju weaponry, but tonight Haruichi had served as organizer of this celebration.
About two weeks ago, a colossal fungal-type kaiju had appeared in Sagamihara. As their very first mission, Kafka and the other rookies had deployed to neutralize it. Kaiju No. 9 had attacked them, however, and two of the new recruits, Reno and Iharu Furuhashi, had ended up in the hospital. Kafka and the others had waited for their fellow recruits to be released and then taken them out on the town in gratitude for their hard work on their initial mission. Hot sake had flowed, chatter and laughter had reached a fever pitch, and they’d been able to share heartfelt opinions with one another as teammates.
“Uhn. This just might drag into tomorrow.” Rubbing his stomach, Kafka gave an agonized moan. Back when he’d worked as a kaiju dismantler, he’d been in the habit of enjoying a nightcap of cheap sake. Part of the problem Kafka was having now was that he’d been laying off the alcohol and tobacco ever since he’d once again set his sights on the Japan Defense Force. Now he couldn’t handle nearly as much as he used to.
Kafka’s teammates were red-faced, happily conversing, and still caught up in the lingering afterglow of drink. He looked at them, and a blond-haired girl, Kikoru Shinomiya, expelled a “Hmph!” from her nostrils. “Good grief,” she said. “Every time the lot of you get together, you end up plastered. Still think you’re a bunch of college students?”
Akari Minase, a teammate on good terms with Kikoru, gave her a charming smile. “Oh, come on, Kiko-baby. We haven’t had a chance to let loose like this since we first joined the JDF.”
“That may be true, Akari, but—”
“You can join in when you hit twenty.” Akari smiled at her. Kikoru turned away, looking embarrassed.
“Yeah, listen to Minase!” someone with the twang of a Kansai accent called out from behind them. The man had slitted eyes and a slender build, and his name was Soshiro Hoshina. He was the vice-captain of the Defense Force’s Third Division. Konomi Okonogi, a petite operator wearing round glasses, stood beside him. “You only get busier as the years go by,” said Hoshina. “Now is really the only time when everyone who started as recruits together can cut loose like this. Enjoy it while you can.”
Hoshina lightly poked Kafka in the back. He was still leaning against Reno. “What’s the matter, Kafka? Can’t even give an answer? How about you run a lap around the perimeter of the base?”
“Wait, Vice-Captain Hoshina! Please, let me off the hook just tonight.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You can run your laps tomorrow,” Hoshina said.
“You’re not serious!” Kafka whined.
“You can handle that much, General Officer Kafka Hibino.”
Kafka looked up in surprise.
He felt a flutter in his chest at hearing the words “general officer” next to his name. During the selection exam, his suit’s unleashed combat power had been 0 percent, and thus far, he’d been treated as a cadet. Kafka’s achievements at Sagamihara had been recognized for the first time tonight, however, and he’d received notice during the drinking party that he was now being promoted to general officer.
“That said, what you heard from me was advance notice,” said Hoshina. “Your official letter of appointment will come from Captain Ashiro.”
“From Mina.”
“From Captain Ashiro.” Hoshina nudged Kafka with his elbow. “This goes without saying, but you’ll still be treated as a cadet until then. And until you get your letter, it’s possible to lose your standing.”
“You watch yourself,” said Kikoru. “I couldn’t bear the sight of you if something like that happened.”
“I know. I appreciate your concern,” said Kafka.
“No biggie. If that happened, we’d be the ones looking like fools for celebrating,” Kikoru replied.
Kafka silently clenched his fist. But I finally got in. Joining the Defense Force was a dream he’d had since he was a little boy. For a time, he had nearly given up on it, but then he’d met Reno and gone chasing after it once again. Tonight, that dream had finally come true.
Everyone headed back toward the base. It was while they were taking the bridge across the river that a gust of night wind blew in from upstream. It was a humid wind, and a little muggy for bodies flushed from strong drink.
Kafka scowled unconsciously. A questionable and distinct odor was carried on the wind as well—the stench of blood and meat.
“Hey, wouldja look at that!” Walking ahead, Iharu pointed at the riverbank. Kafka and the others stopped and looked in that direction. A barricade had been raised around one section of the riverbank. In its center lay an enormous fish about two meters in length. This was no ordinary fish. Four muscular limbs were growing from its body. A hole had been blown through its gut, and it wasn’t even twitching.
“That’s a fish-type kaiju, isn’t it?” said Reno. “I wouldn’t want to see that for sale at a seafood place.”
“Me neither,” said Kafka in agreement. “From this time of year on, the corpses’ll rot fast. And the fish types’ll spoil even faster.” Kafka had had experience dismantling a number of fish-type kaiju. It was hellish to even think of taking apart those rotting corpses; the stench came right back to him, as if it were being unleashed deep inside his nostrils. Most likely, this kaiju would be dismantled in the morning, and by rush hour not a fin or scale would remain.
“But this wasn’t here when we were on our way to the restaurant, was it?” asked Kafka.
“A civilian reported it a little while ago,” Hoshina said. “Since Ikaruga Platoon was close by on another job, I had them handle it. Since it’s on the low end of the fortitude scale, there won’t have been any casualties.”
“This happened during the drinking party? At what point did such a—” Kafka stopped midsentence as he answered his own question. He and the other rookies had come to the party dressed casually, wearing tracksuits and the like. But Hoshina and Okonogi had remained in their Defense Force uniforms, even during the celebrating.
So, they were ready to mobilize at a moment’s notice, just in case things went south!