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

はちじゅうよん | eighty four

もののけ | kaiju | monster

84

[A lengthy chapter ahead]

HOSHINA vs. SHINOMIYA

Soshiro

"SOMETHING'S OFF," I mutter, almost to myself. But 10 catches it, of course. The damn monster picks up on every twitch, every hint of unease.

"Oh, you can feel it too?" he sneers. "What, afraid of a little mayhem?"

"Shut the hell up," I snap, pushing the thoughts aside, but they cling like a bad stench.

I scan the surroundings, my eyes darting over the chaos—the rubble, twisted metal, the burning wreckage of what used to be a busy city block. Buildings reduced to shambles, streets torn up like someone took a claw to them, but here we are, somehow holding our own. Strangely enough, it's almost too easy. These are Daikaiju-level monsters, and yet we're mopping the floor with them like they're rookies. That alone sends every red flag in my head blaring.

Every damn year, these Kaiju evolve, adapting to our methods, our defenses. So why now, when they should be more dangerous than ever, does this feel like a setup? It's a nagging feeling that burrows deep, like something's not adding up here, and it's pissing me off. My gut's warning me again, whispering that there's more to this than what we're seeing.

Akira's voice crackles through the earpiece, breaking my train of thought. "Captain, Delta Squad reports the east side's secure. They've got two Daikaiju cornered, and it's under control."

"Of course they do," I mutter, half to myself. It shouldn't be this smooth. Nothing about this job, about these monsters, should ever feel routine. I let out a bitter laugh, the kind that only comes from years of dealing with shit that doesn't make sense, then speak into the comm. "Keep me posted, Akira. And stay sharp—something about this doesn't sit right."

She gives a quick "Copy that, Captain," but I can sense she's feeling it too, that underlying current of tension, as if the whole scene is a damn theater, and we're just pawns in some Kaiju's twisted game.

The familiar prickle of unease twists in my gut, and just as I'm trying to push it down, 10's voice slips into my mind, low and unsettling, like a whisper crawling up from a dark pit. "Well... it's been a long time since I felt this," he says, his voice almost gleeful and unnervingly quiet.

I clutch the twin blades in my palms, feeling them hum with his presence, his twisted consciousness alive within my suit. "What's that supposed to mean?" I mutter, keeping my eyes on the chaos around us, scanning for anything out of place.

"Fear," he answers, and there's no hesitation in his voice, just pure, unnerving certainty. "It's coming back." His voice dips, almost like he's savoring every word. "They're here... the ones I told you about... the ones who made me."

A chill digs into me like an icy claw, even with the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I swallow, throat dry, and focus on the job at hand, trying to keep control. "You mean..." I feel my pulse throb against my skull. It can't be.