The division members ate their breakfast in the mess hall, and after that, the morning’s assigned tasks began. Some were carried out at squad level, while all others were tackled by the full division. Today, they had sharpshooting practice on the shooting range.
Each division member was carefully inspecting their weapons when Hoshina, standing in front of them, called out “Attention!” in a loud voice. When they turned their heads, there were people standing there holding cameras and other equipment. Their full force numbered six, and many of them were young, casually dressed in polo shirts and jeans.
“These are the public-broadcasting workers I was telling you about. They’re here to film your training,” Hoshina said.
A friendly-looking man of about fifty came forward and bowed to the division. “I’m the director, Ooka. For the next five days, we’ll be doing in-depth coverage on all of you. We’ll try hard not to get in the way of your training. Also, it’s best for us if you don’t think about the cameras being here at all. Thank you very much for having us.”
The division members bowed in return and shouted back words of welcome as the cameramen moved to one side and began setting up equipment on the spot. Some of them even had drones like the ones that had been used in the Defense Force selection examination.
Hoshina wasn’t done speaking yet. “I’ve said this in lectures, but providing the citizens with a sense of security is one of our jobs. Be accommodating as much as possible in your interviews,” he said.
“Yes, sir! I’ll do my best!” Kafka replied in a loud voice, but Hoshina shook his head.
“No need to push yourself trying to stand out. They’re here to shoot scenes of your everyday training. They’re also pros, so leave it to them. First and foremost, focus on the drills in front of you—you especially, Kafka.”
“Yessir!”
Standing next to Kafka as he awkwardly replied, Reno’s hands tightened on the small firearm he was holding.
That’s right. For now, just focus on the training in front of me.
Shooting practice was slated for that morning. They would shoot targets that came out of the abandoned buildings and compete for the best time. It was a simple drill, but it also clearly revealed the differences in people’s combat abilities.
As he squeezed the trigger, Reno was remembering the Sagamihara mission. That was when he’d encountered Kaiju No. 9, the identified kaiju that could understand human language. Reno felt that something inside of him had changed a lot since then.
Remember that feeling you had then!
Reno’s suit, interwoven with muscle fiber from kaiju, squeezed his body hard, as if in response to his emotions. Using all five senses, he predicted the target’s movements.
There!
He took aim at the target through his scope, tightened his abs, steadied his weapon, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet pulverized the target. The feeling Reno had in the instant he fired would tell him whether or not it would hit. Right away, he shifted the sight to the next target.
How was that?
When all the targets were destroyed, Reno’s time and the maximum unleashed combat power of his suit would be calculated and delivered to him. It was no surprise that after two weeks his body wasn’t moving like he wanted it to, but surprisingly he didn’t feel too bad about it.
“Reno Ichikawa. Time: two minutes, nine seconds. Estimated unleashed combat power: 22 percent.”
He had finished even faster than he had in the drills before his hospitalization, and his unleashed combat power had gone up as well. For a new recruit, those numbers likely put him in the upper ranks. Even so, Reno wasn’t entirely satisfied.
“Hey, Reno, how was your time?”
“Oh, Iharu.”
Iharu, who had been shooting beside him, came near. Reno saw the score sheet in his hand: Iharu’s time was two minutes and three seconds. His unleashed combat power showed 23 percent. “Ha, how about it? I win again, eh?”
“How was it, Iharu? This was our first drill in a while.”
“Huh? Well, I feel like my senses have gotten a little dull.”
“Mine too,” said Reno. “Nothing at all like that time.”
According to his operator, Reno’s unleashed combat power had briefly exceeded 30 percent during the battle with Kaiju No. 9. Since then, he had never again reached that peak performance, which was why he couldn’t feel fully satisfied.
“Next time, I’ll do it faster. I’ll get that feeling back,” said Reno.
“W-what? Well, so will I! I’ll finish even faster and win next time!” Iharu suddenly stuck his face out at Reno. “You listen here, Reno. I’m going to get stronger. And I’m not gonna lose to you!”
“No, Iharu. You don’t compete with me. You compete with the kaiju.”
“Gah! Shut up!” Iharu shouted. “No way am I losing to you!” He strode away carrying his weapon. Watching him go, Reno smiled in spite of himself. Iharu had probably also grasped something in the midst of the battle with No. 9.
“Did you break 20 percent?” Reno turned around to find Hoshina standing there. “Mighty impressive numbers after a two-week blank.”
“It’s not enough,” said Reno. “Everyone else must’ve broken their own records while we were out.”
“That they did,” Hoshina said with a nod. “Shinomiya’s, Izumo’s, and Kaguragi’s growth has been remarkable, but there’s more. It isn’t just you new recruits—your seniors are really giving it their all too. The whole force is coming together really well.”
That was when a distant voice rang out with a powerful battle cry: “Graaaaaaaaaaa!”
Hoshina heard it and sighed. “Well, there is one fella whose unleashed combat power won’t go up at all.”
There was no need to ask. Reno knew exactly who Hoshina was talking about. When Reno approached the source of that cry, Kafka was speaking in a loud voice to Kikoru. “What’s the matter, sir?”
“Oh, Ichikawa. Great timing. In the drill just now, I felt like I did pretty well, personally. My time was shorter, and my unleashed power should’ve gone up! Kikoru, I want you to see this too! How’s this?”
Kafka opened his score sheet to show them. “Kafka Hibino. Time: six minutes, thirty-five seconds. Estimated unleashed combat power: 1 percent.”
“Whaaat?”
“You completely suck, don’t you?” Kikoru stared with astonished eyes at the shock Kafka was getting from his own record.
“But, sir, it’s a better time than before, right?” Reno asked.
“Oh! Yeah! That’s the ticket, Ichikawa. Just wait and see, Kikoru. Someday I’m going to catch up—no, pass you—”
“Sure you are. Here’s my time for this round: one minute, seven seconds. Estimated unleashed combat power: 57 percent.”
Reno was astonished at the record sheet Kikoru presented. In these past two weeks, she had improved her scores even more. She just kept pulling further and further ahead.
“Crap! One more time, just one more time! I’m going to double my unleashed combat power this next time!” Kafka said.
“That’s still only 2 percent,” Kikoru said dryly. “Like Reno says, your time may have improved, but you’ve still got a long way to go.”
“Er, Vice-Captain Hoshina!” An expression of disgust appeared on Kafka’s face.
“No way you’re passing tomorrow’s obstacle course with numbers like those. Depending on how things go,” Hoshina said, opening his eyes halfway, “we might just end up shuffling you off to a more suitable department.”
“Huh? You just told me yesterday I was accepted!” Kafka said in shock.
“Not every job in the Defense Force is on the front line. There are operators, survey teams, dismantling teams. All kinds of work.”
Saying nothing further, Hoshina departed.
“Vice-Captain Hoshina’s pretty strict, isn’t he, sir?” asked Reno. “Just yesterday, he was telling us ‘Welcome to the Defense Force.’”
Kafka had only just been promoted to general officer. Hoshina’s words had to have stung.
“No,” said Kafka, shaking his head. “It’s frustrating, but Vice-Captain Hoshina is right. I’ve only just stepped up to the starting line.” Kafka watched Hoshina walk away, clenching his fists. The look in his eyes was deadly serious. He looked like a totally different person from the one who had been carrying on just moments before.
No, Mr. Hibino is always deadly serious.
Back when they’d taken the selection exam, and again right now, Kafka was always giving his best. That was a side of Kafka that Reno especially liked.
“When it comes to shooting, I think I can give you a little advice too.”
“Really, Ichikawa? Please do!”
“In that case, Reno, I’ve got some advice for you,” a familiar voice butted in.
Reno nodded his head toward Kikoru, who was looking his way with a smug expression. “Sure, what is it?”
Kikoru’s eyes widened, as if surprised at Reno’s direct and open-minded reaction. I’ll do anything if it makes me stronger—that was the feeling that was starting to blossom inside Reno. I’ll throw away all shame and pride.
It was then that the television reporting crew approached them. Mr. Ooka, the director, came up in front of them with a gentle smile. “Sorry to bother you in the middle of training. Could I talk to the three of you real quick?”
“Okay, sure,” said Reno, and the camera swung around to face Kikoru.
“Thank you very much! Now, Miss Shinomiya, please let us hear your thoughts on a few questions.”
“Certainly. Please begin,” Kikoru replied with a dignified expression that was the polar opposite of how she’d been talking to Reno and Kafka just moments before.
Kafka and Reno distanced themselves from the interviewer.
“He came to talk to Kikoru?”
“Well, she did get the top score on the selection exam and skip one rank.”
Promptly and diplomatically, Kikoru responded to each question asked of her.
“Yes, thank you very much.”
When the interview was over, Kikoru turned on her heel and came right over to Kafka and Reno. Her golden hair streamed gently behind her. The look on her face oozed confidence.
“You’re really good at that, Shinomiya,” said Reno.