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

よんじゅうよん | fourty four

もののけ | kaiju | monster

44

[A lengthy chapter ahead]

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Soshiro

THE COLD WATER CASCADED DOWN MY SKIN, each droplet a feeble attempt to quell the inferno raging within me. The icy sting was supposed to soothe my nerves, but it only seemed to fuel the fire. Anger? No, this was something far more primal, a seething, burning rage of jealousy that clawed at my insides.

I stood under the relentless stream, my muscles taut, every inch of my body on edge. The water pounded against my back, sliding over the ridges of my muscles, but it couldn't wash away the image of Kiyomi's hand on Kafka's shoulder, her touch so casual, so easy. My teeth ground together as I replayed the scene over and over, my mind a torturous loop of bitterness.

I pressed my palms against the cool tiles, the veins in my forearms standing out as I leaned into the wall, trying to anchor myself. The water streamed over my head, plastering my hair to my scalp and running in rivulets down my face. It felt like ice against my burning skin, yet the heat within me remained unquenched. Each drop traced a path over my neck, down my chest, mingling with the sweat that still clung to me from earlier.

I was the Vice-Captain, yet here I was, reduced to this state by a simple touch, by my woman's casual touch.

Why did it affect me so much? Kiyomi was mine. I knew her, every curve and secret of her body, every whisper of her desires. Yet, the sight of her with Kafka had ignited something raw and ugly inside me. Was it fear? Fear that she might see something in him she didn't see in me? That he might be able to offer her something more than I could?

This again, the gnawing sensation of not being enough for her, the insidious feeling of insecurity that always crept in whenever she was with Kazuya. I just fucking hate it.

Why did it always come back to this? This wretched feeling of not being enough. No matter how much I pushed myself, no matter how many battles I fought and won, the doubt remained, festering like a wound that refused to heal. I felt like an imposter in my own life, a fraud who didn't deserve the love and respect of someone as incredible as Kiyomi.

I love Kiyomi so much, more than words could ever express. Losing her isn't an option; it's a nightmare I refuse to entertain. Now that she's mine, now that I have her in my life again, I can't bear the thought of those pesky fuckers trying to take her away. She's mine. Mine and only mine.

I heard the door to my office open, the familiar creak that signaled only one person knew how to enter without hesitation—Kiyomi. I turned off the shower, the cold water still trailing down my skin in rivulets, clinging to my muscles. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it loosely around my waist, not caring about the droplets that continued to cascade down my body. The towel hung precariously, barely covering me as I stepped out of the bathroom.

The air felt thick with tension as I moved towards my desk, where she stood leaning casually, her posture relaxed and nonchalant. The sight of her there, so composed and unbothered, only fueled the fire within me. Each step I took left a trail of water on the floor, my hair damp and tousled, drops of water sliding down my chest and pooling at the edge of the towel. Now I stood in front of her—towering her form.