Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Kikoru rushed toward the target. The moment she landed in front of the wooden house, the house was heaved upward, and out sprang a claw. Kikoru swung the greatsword down on it, breaking it into pieces. Beneath the house, the kaiju raised an earsplitting scream. Kikoru thrust the sword forward, piercing the kaiju right through the face. The moment she pulled the sword out, the creature’s body slumped to the ground.
“That’s two.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than the sound of something slicing through the air came at Kikoru from behind. She turned and saw a giant claw right before her eyes, racing toward her. She raised her sword vertically and blocked the claw with its blade. The third yoju had been hiding close by, and it was carrying part of a collapsed apartment building on its back.
Again, the claw came rushing at Kikoru. She swept the greatsword sideways and sent it flying from its joint. She was expecting the kaiju to follow up with another attack, but instead it turned around and fled.
Oh no, you don’t!
Kikoru got a running start, leapt up into the air, and swung the greatsword down at the kaiju’s back, penetrating the concrete there all the way down to its carapace. There the sword’s momentum ran out, however.
It can’t cut it in half?
Kikoru lifted the sword again. The kaiju turned tail and concentrated all its efforts on escaping the attack. Kikoru immediately went after it and drove her sword into the same place as before. The greatsword intersected with the exposed carapace, and just like that, the kaiju’s body was cleaved in two.
Number three!
Chunks of concrete the kaiju had been carrying lay scattered nearby. When Kikoru drew near to examine them, she discovered pieces of a yellow-brown substance stuck to them, resembling chunks of amber.
Hoshina called her communicator. “Well done. This class of yoju doesn’t stand a chance, do they?”
“Vice-Captain Hoshina. When you asked if I liked crabs yesterday—”
“Yeh heh, it was a relief to hear you’re not allergic.”
“Sir, I didn’t come to eat them. I was the one who stood to be eaten!”
“Never would’ve happened. I figured the likes of those’d be a cinch for you.”
“I understand that, but—”
“What is it? Something bothering you?”
There was a little something that concerned her. Kikoru lowered her gaze to the kaiju’s back. “The concrete the kaiju was carrying—it’s covered in a dark, yellow-orange substance that seems to be an adhesive. Pieces of rubble are strongly bound together with it. Does this come from its uniorgan?”
Uniorgans—these were special organs that kaiju possessed, having a variety of properties depending on the kaiju. They were sometimes used as weapons in the Defense Force’s equipment.
“That’s right,” Hoshina affirmed. “The uniorgans in their backs produce a sticky fluid. When the fluid is sprayed, contact with air makes it quickly dry out and harden, turning it into a strong armor—along with the building it’s in.”
“Armor. That makes sense, then,” Kikoru said. Even though she had split the beast in half, the fact that she hadn’t been able to one-shot the thing bothered her. The greatsword she was holding felt fantastic to use. That was likely due to it being so light. Still, she felt all the more dissatisfied because it didn’t seem to work like she wanted it to.
“You’ve still got a honju remaining,” the vice-captain said. “Good hunting.”
Even yoju were strong enough to carry houses on their backs. It was possible the honju was carrying around an even bigger piece of architecture—an entire building, maybe. Kikoru looked around, taking in the larger structures inside the training ground. Japanese-style homes, row houses, multitenant buildings, and so on. However—
Isn’t it in here?
Inside the training ground, all was still and quiet. There weren’t any noises coming from anywhere. Lonely, empty buildings spread away into the distance.
Come to think of it, I first learned the truth about him on the training ground.
Kaiju No. 9 had struck during the screening exam. A defeated kaiju had regenerated. Although it had been wounded, Kikoru had been helpless to stand against it. It had been Kaiju No. 8—Kafka Hibino—who had saved the day.
Thinking back on it now, you must have been out of your mind, transforming and charging in there under Defense Force surveillance. What on earth were you thinking?
Kikoru was on her way back to the road when she noticed a run-down family restaurant. It reminded her of the time that she, Kafka, and Reno had gone out to eat after joining the Defense Force.
Right around the time they’d all joined up, Kafka and Reno had asked Kikoru to meet them at a family restaurant in town. The reason had been to explain to her about Kafka’s monstrous metamorphosis on the training ground. She’d been wondering what kind of incredible top secret intel would be revealed to her, but—
“Huh? You ate a kaiju and turned into one?” she had found herself saying. What they had told her—that Kafka had become able to change into a kaiju after eating it—had been too hard to believe right away. But Kafka and Reno hadn’t appeared to be joking. Both of them looked stone-cold serious. If Kikoru spoke to the Defense Force about it, Kafka might end up as a component in some weapon.
“Fine. You did save me, so I’ll keep this a secret for the time being. But know this—if it turns out you’re just another kaiju out to harm humanity, then I will kill you.”
That was what Kikoru said to Kafka—to Kaiju No. 8—as he sat in front of her at the restaurant. She didn’t mean it as a threat. Kikoru had spoken those words from the bottom of her heart. If Kafka ever so much as bared his fangs at a civilian in the future, she intended to put him down without a second thought. It might be unsettling for Kafka to hear, but that was where she stood. After all, up until just a little while before, the man before her had been screaming so pathetically she could hardly believe he was twice her age.
Unexpectedly, though, Kafka smiled back. “Sure thing. If it comes to that, I’ll expect nothing less.” He smiled then, as if it was only natural that he’d accepted his destiny.
Kikoru, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded.
“Well, now that that’s out of the way, are you guys ready to head back? Sorry for dragging you into this, Ichikawa.”
She saw Kafka getting up with the receipt in hand, and—“Hold it right there,” she said angrily. Kafka was surprised by the white-hot fury in her voice. “W-what is it? Is there still something left to talk about?” he asked.
“We’ve come all this way into town,” Kikoru said. “Come with me for a bit.”
“Come with you? Where to?”
Kikoru pointed a finger at her cup on the tabletop.
“It’s teatime on my day off, and I’m supposed to settle for free refills at the soda fountain? You have got to be kidding me.”
Kikoru dragged Kafka and Reno to an English-style tea shop in a spot they had to change trains twice just to get to. The first floor had a store selling British teas, and the second floor was a café. Kikoru had been coming there occasionally prior to going to America. At the window seats they were shown to, soft sunlight streamed in through a semicircular window. The room had a chic, relaxed atmosphere.
Sitting across from Kikoru, Kafka tensed up and started looking all around suspiciously. When he got a look at the menu, he whispered in Reno’s ear. “Psst! Ichikawa, help me out here. What is this? It’s just strings of letters I’ve never seen before. These are teas, aren’t they?”
“This is incredible. To think there are this many kinds of Darjeeling,” said Reno in amazement.
“What’s ‘Namring King Upper’?” Kafka asked, now intrigued. “That is totally a finishing move.”
“Look over here, Mr. Hibino. These prices.”
“Whoa! For a cup of that, I could eat two lunches and have change left over! What the heck?”
“I’d appreciate it if you two could cut back on the lowbrow chatter,” said Kikoru. “Also, it isn’t for just one cup. They serve it by the teapot.”
If the three of them carried on much longer, they’d have likely begun to stand out in a bad way. Kikoru picked out an assortment of teas and sweets for everyone, then placed their order. A waiter brought them cups and teapots, and also poured their first round. A refreshing, fragrant bouquet spread out around the table.
“This is Castleton First Flush,” said Kikoru. “It tastes great served plain.”
Looking rather cautious, Kafka picked up his cup and raised it to his mouth. “Oh. Ohhh! This is really good. Kinda fancy and upper crust, and kinda tastes great.”
“I had no idea. To think becoming a kaiju limits one’s vocabulary,” Kikoru said.