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

はちじゅうろく | eighty six

もののけ | kaiju | monster

86

[A lengthy chapter ahead]

Soshiro

IT'S BEEN EIGHTY-FOUR fucking hours of pure hell—three and a half days locked up in this godforsaken pit, with nothing but endless rounds of fists and boots and steel tearing into us. Nonstop beatings, nonstop bleeding. It's like they're hell-bent on making us suffer for something we had no shot at stopping.

Every goddamn second drags on, each blow a fresh reminder that they want to break us down to nothing. Every breath feels like razor blades in my chest, and every minute stretches into an eternity of pain. We're running on empty, with blood and sweat soaking through every inch of us, stuck in this endless cycle of torture, all for a fate we had no control over.

I fucking miss Somi... Every time I close my eyes, I see her little face, and it's like someone's gutting me from the inside out. All I can do now is hope the old man's taking care of her. He's all she's got while I'm rotting in this hellhole.

But the longer I'm stuck here, chained up and beaten down, the less I let myself hope I'll ever make it back to her. This pain, all these bruises and broken ribs—they're nothing compared to the agony of knowing she's out there, waiting, while I'm here barely holding onto the scraps of hope I have left just to see my daughter again.

I still don't know a damn thing about Kiyomi. They keep screaming she's gone, trying to shove that lie down my throat with every steel rod they slam into my flesh. But they can all go to hell. I won't believe a word of it until they put her body in front of me. I need proof, real proof—hell, I've carried her dead weight in my arms before, so I know what that looks like. They want to see me break, to shatter and give in to their twisted game. But screw that. They're not getting a damn tear or a single cracked piece from me until I get the confirmation myself.

They've barely given us water—just enough to keep the three of us alive in this hellhole. I have no clue what's going on outside, no idea where the hell Kenji is. It's only been a few days, but damn, I've already forgotten what light feels like. It's just been darkness, seeping into every crack, eating away at me until light feels like a memory I can't reach. Gen's out cold, his body sagging like dead weight, barely hanging on. Itami's just sitting there, chained up, staring off into nothing, broken. And I'm right there with him, lost in my head, clinging to the thought of my daughter's smile. That smile's the only thing keeping me from slipping into whatever pit they've thrown us in.

It's been close to two weeks—hell, maybe three hundred and twenty-seven hours, or something close to it. But I wouldn't know; I've lost all sense of day or night, caught in this endless, brutal dark. I choke up thick blood, the taste metallic and bitter, just as another boot slams into my ribs, the bones already shattered from earlier beatings.

"Aren't you supposed to be the great swordsman, Hoshina?" Inoue sneers, leaning in close, his voice like poison. "More like a useless, pathetic mess, can't you guess?" He grins, sick and twisted, and I brace myself as another brutal kick cracks into my side. "Your big brother's on the other side of the room—want me to drag your ass over so you can die together?" He laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, like he's getting off on every second of this.