もののけ | monster | soshiro hoshina (Kaiju No. 8) (COMPLETE)

いち | one

This is not recommended for young audiences since it contains mature topics, including violence, strong language on occasion (which may not be appropriate for children), odd comedy (which may not be appropriate for young audiences), and explicit scenes. If you find this disturbing, leave.

もののけ | kaiju | monster

01

Soshiro (13 years old)

I STOOD IN THE DIMLY LIT LIVING ROOM, my eyes fixed on the wooden floor, tracing the familiar patterns of the grain. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe, hard to think. My father's presence loomed large in the room, his stern face a mask of disappointment and disapproval.

"Soshiro," he began, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to press down on my shoulders. "Just give up on joining the Defense Force."

The words hit me like a physical blow, a sharp pang straight to my chest. I could feel my heart twist painfully, each syllable embedding itself deep within. "If this were the Edo Period, you'd be lauded as a prodigy. But this era of blades is long over, son."

His words brought a rush of conflicting emotions. Pride, sadness, and a stubborn determination all tangled together in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Father," I began, choosing my words carefully, "I know times have changed. But the spirit of the swordsmanship, the honor, the courage... those things haven't. They're still needed, now more than ever."

He shook his head slowly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "You speak of honor and courage, but what of practicality? What of the future? You have a brilliant mind, Soshiro. You could do so much more, be so much more, than just another soldier."

I clenched my palms into fist, feeling more enraged.

"Just another soldier?" I repeated, feeling a fresh wave of frustration. "Father, this isn't about being a soldier. It's about protecting those who can't protect themselves. It's about standing up to the kaiju and making a difference."

"And what difference will you make if you're dead?" he countered, his voice rising slightly. "What good are you to anyone if you're nothing but a name on a memorial?"

I flinched at his harsh words but held my ground. "I'd rather die fighting for something I believe in than live a life of regret and inaction. You always taught me to follow my heart, to stand by my convictions. This is what I believe in, Father. This is what I need to do."

For a moment, he just stared at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of doubt or hesitation. "Soshiro," he said at last, his tone softer but no less intense, "you're so young. You don't understand the cost of war, the true price of battle."

"Maybe I don't," I admitted, my voice quiet but firm. "But I'm willing to learn. I'm willing to face those risks because doing nothing, staying safe while others fight and die... I can't do that. I won't— I want to follow oniisan..."

He turned away, his shoulders slumping slightly, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable armor. "You remind me so much of myself at your age," he murmured, almost to himself. "I was full of fire and dreams, ready to take on the world. But reality has a way of extinguishing that fire, son. It wears you down, piece by piece."