Chapter Text
The work day was finally wrapping up as day settled into dusk - bathing the surroundings with a palette of scarlet and orange. Although that sounded pretty in theory, the change in color did little to make the rotting kaiju carcass any less gross.
The rest of the cleaning crew began to head out. Waving goodbye and parroting their usual words of ‘nice work today’ as they went. Kafka didn’t join them. He had no obligation to stay behind now that he was off the clock, but there were a few samples he wanted to finish logging. He’d pack up after that.
“Hey, sir.”
The sudden voice startled him, since he expected to be the only one still on-site. Kafka looked up from his clipboard and back towards his newest co-worker. The teenager didn’t seem as standoff-ish as he was earlier.
“Yo, Ichikawa! Nice job today.” Kafka praised. Then he recalled their less-than-serious scuffle earlier. The cleaner settled into a playful boxing stance and asked, “What? You here to pay me back for lunch?”
His back wouldn’t appreciate the extra strain after a hard day’s work, but Kafka wasn’t about to back down if Ichikawa wanted a rematch! The teenager didn’t take the bait. Instead, Ichikawa stood there awkwardly for a moment, fidgeting with something in his palm.
“Thanks to your help, I made it through my first day on the job. I appreciate it very much.” He said, somewhat stiffly but gracious nonetheless. Kafka got the impression that Ichikawa wasn’t used to thanking people (which painted a sad picture).
“Uh… no prob.” He replied, easing out of his stance.
Ichikawa made a move to leave, and then paused. There was a moment of hesitation before he asked, “Sir, how old are you?”
Kafka probably would’ve made a joke somewhere along the lines of ‘don’t you know better than to ask a lady her age!’ if the teenager hadn’t asked that question so seriously. So he raised an eyebrow and said, “32… why?”
Ichikawa cringed. Which, wow, that was rude.
Was being in your thirties really enough to elicit that kind of response? He wasn’t THAT old! Or was Ichikawa cringing because Kafka looked older than that and the truth surprised him!? If the kid thought Kafka was in his fifties or something, the cleaner would break down here and now. All without a lick of shame.
“Nevermind.” Ichikawa said tersely and turned on his heel to walk away.
“Oh no you don’t!” Kafka stalked over and jabbed a finger at his chest, “What was that reaction for, huh? 32 is a perfectly fine age to be! I’m still in my prime!”
“It’s nothing.” The teenager bit out, looking away with a complicated expression.
“Didn’t sound like nothing to me.”
“...It’s better if I don’t say.”
“Dude, c’mon. This is starting to sound ageist. I’m not above taking this to HR.” He threatened in (mostly) jest.
Ichikawa made a face at that. Regardless of if he took Kafka’s words seriously or not, he still gave in. He reluctantly muttered, “I wanted to let you know that the Defense Force raised its maximum recruitment age to-”
Kafka’s heart skipped a beat.
“-32.” Ichikawa finished.
It quickly plummeted down to his feet.
“...Oh.” He breathed out, quietly.
“It’s not any of my business but you looked pretty torn up earlier when you talked about giving up on the defense force. So I thought maybe…” Ichikawa trailed off.
He didn’t need to say anything further. They both knew what he meant. He thought Kafka could’ve had one last chance to chase his dream.
Really, it was silly for Kafka to feel crushed over this. It’s not like the situation changed at all. He was already long past the recruitment age. Sure, having the limit be raised a single year too little was extra salt in the wound, but what did it matter when the results were the same?
Kafka had already missed his chance to stand by Mina’s side.
“I apologize for getting your hopes up. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Ichikawa muttered.
Considering that the kid seemed legitimately broken up about this (despite him claiming otherwise), Kafka swallowed back all the pain he felt and forced on a smile. He was a grown ass adult. He could handle a bit of bad news! Ichikawa didn’t need to look like a sad, wet, pitiful cat for his sake.
Seriously, it was taking all of Kafka’s strength to resist ruffling his hair! Was he developing maternal instincts right now!? Really not the time to! Kafka violently fought them off with a stick.
“It’s fine. I mean, unless I suddenly lose a year or too, it’s not like anything’s changed!” He laughed it off, somewhat hollowly.
“Still-”
Kafka cut him off before he could give more needless apologies, “I appreciate the thought though! You’re a better guy than I gave you credit for.”
He flushed at that. The kid clearly didn’t only struggle with thanking people, he didn’t know how to take compliments either.
“Listen! That’s not the-”
Ichikawa didn’t get to finish that sentence. Because that’s the moment when a kaiju, mouth gaping open wide and ready to bite down, ruptured up from the ground behind Ichikawa.
Everything quickly went to shit after that.
—
Well, he survived. The kid did too. One of them was in noticeably worse shape than the other.
Ichikawa (thanks to Kafka’s intervention) managed to get away with a few scrapes. Meanwhile Kafka himself was nursing a semi-crushed leg and multiple lacerations. He really hoped there wouldn’t be any permanent damage. He worked a labor job for god’s sake! Kafka would rather get eaten by a kaiju than go back to customer service. The thought alone made him shudder.
Although, it was easier to reminisce about his nightmarish time as a cashier than let his thoughts wander elsewhere. There wasn’t much else for him to do while he was bed-ridden like this.
His mind kept returning to the same memory. The sight of Mina splattering that horrifying kaiju with a single shot. All the while he laid there. Completely and entirely helpless. That was difficult to stomach.
Kafka held his hand up towards the ceiling and just… stared at it. At how it still shook from the leftover adrenaline in his system. Meanwhile Mina’s aim was steady as could be when she took that grotesque thing out.
She really left him behind, hadn’t she? Or maybe he’s the one that left her behind by giving up. Kafka couldn’t tell.
There was no rebuilding the bridge between them now. Not when they were so far apart. It was stupid to admit… but, sometimes, Kafka would look to his side and expect Mina to still be there. Despite all of their years apart.
“Hey, sir.” Ichikawa suddenly said from the hospital bed over.
Kafka may or may not have jolted at that. Only a little though. And the way he tucked his hand against his chest and turned over wasn’t out of embarrassment at all! He simply… forgot Ichikawa was there. And that he could see his ‘highly respectable senior’ being over-dramatically angsty for no reason.
“Yeah?” He mumbled, clutching at his hand with a blush.
If the teenager noticed his bashfulness, then he was kind enough not to comment on it. And Ichikawa, with only a sliver of his usual reservation, said:
“I’d be a dead man if you hadn’t saved me today. You were really cool.”
…
Cool. Ichikawa thought he was cool.
That one word made a decades-old promise flash through Kafka’s mind. Of him and Mina on a hill overlooking the destruction of their hometown. Swearing that they’d join the Defense Force together - that they’d compete to be the ‘cooler’ officer.
“I know this doesn’t mean much… but it sucks that the cutoff wasn’t raised higher. I think you would’ve been a great Defense Force officer.” Ichikawa finished, his words bittersweet.
Kafka’s mood took a dip at that. He couldn’t remember the last time someone honestly believed he could join the Defense Force. Let alone that he would’ve been someone great. The sentiment was nice. The fact it came one year too late was less nice.
And yet… he was so, so thankful Ichikawa said it.
Although his words were only a balm on a serious wound; the fact that a single person genuinely thought Kafka was cool, and that he could’ve accomplished his dream if circumstances allowed… that meant the world to him.
Kafka had to take a few moments to compose himself before replying. His voice would’ve come out watery if he hadn’t.
“Thanks, Ichikawa. You really are a stand-up guy.” He paused for a beat before admitting, “Meeting you made me realize how much I regret giving up. And that I’ve been lying to myself about it. So I’m not gonna pretend like I’m fine right now… but I’ll live.”
The curtain separating the two of them prevented Kafka from gauging Ichikawa’s reaction. Knowing the kid though, he was probably pretending not to care while obviously caring a lot.
“Well it’s none of my business either way.” Ichikawa huffed, pretending not to care while obviously caring a lot. That got Kafka to crack a smile.
He intended to wax some poetry about the importance of sanitation work; how he'd still be a hero in his own right, taking care of the unsightly work society couldn’t function without, to reassure Ichikawa - except a loud buzzing sound stopped him.
Kafka looked up and froze. There was an abnormally small, bug-like kaiju hovering over his bed. It was looking him dead in the eye. And then it spoke? Somehow??
“I found you.” It thrummed ominously.
Kafka lunged backwards away from the thing and shrieked, “Kaiju!”
Or at least he tried to. He only got halfway through the second syllable before it abruptly shot forward, quick as a bullet, and forced itself down his throat.
Things got a little blurry after that. For a few seconds (ones that felt more like an eternity) all Kafka knew was bright, swirling colors and indescribable, molten agony - as if he was being melted from the inside out.
Ichikawa noticed his distress and pulled aside the curtain separating their two beds. He asked, “Uh, sir? Are your wounds-” and then froze mid-sentence.
It was at that moment Kafka came back to himself. He felt… different.
Physical sensations were suddenly subdued. Distant might be the better word. It was like Kafka was interacting with the world through a thick, head-to-toe, skin tight suit. All sense of texture was gone. The most he could feel from the blanket over him, the bed underneath him, and even the hand he pressed against his chest was light pressure.
At the same time though, his vision was better than ever. Like SCARILY better than ever. Enough so that he could count each individual speck of dust in the half lit room. Also, holy shit, were those shrimp colors!?
Did… did he just have a stroke. What was happening.
Ichikawa made an odd croaking sound. He looked at the kid, saw that his eyes were bugging out of his head, and then turned around to face the window to his right.
A kaiju stared back at him. It took Kafka a second to register it as his own reflection.
…
He started screaming. Ichikawa started screaming too. They screamed for a good, long while.
The only reason they stopped was when one of the hospital’s other patients, an elderly man, passed by and gawked at the sight of Kafka. The speed in which he dialed the Defense Force’s hotline was legitimately impressive.
Too bad Kafka was the one being reported! He thought about how Mina took that kaiju from earlier out with a single blow once more. This time it didn’t come with a wave of disappointment, but rather fear. Kafka felt his stomach (if he still HAD a stomach) drop.
Ichikawa seemingly had the same thought process. He turned to Kafka and exclaimed, “Let’s get out of here, sir!!”
The man turned kaiju couldn’t agree more.