#might be missing some let me know! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charlie-rulerofhell · 20 days ago

Text

Sed Proditionem || chapter 2

In Dubiis Libertas, In Necessariis Unitas

But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me, then this heart would break and fall as twice as far.

* * *

Žižka is forced to deal with the aftermath of his failure. Hans and Samuel look for the root of betrayal. At Zlenice castle, a young boy sets out for adventure.

{read below or here on AO3}

* * *

Štěpán of Tetin was bored. So bored in fact that, had the way back to Zlenice been any longer, his wandering thoughts and daydreams may as well have thrown him out of his saddle and into a blissful sleep on the muddy ground. Sure, he had known what he would get himself into, not only this morning when the messenger of Sir Tammo of Ledna urged him to finish his breakfast sooner than expected, no, he had known for over five years now, ever since he agreed to help his guardian Ondřej Dubá with his service as the King's highest judge. And it wasn't the iudicium terre bohemiae, the Bohemian common law, that bored Štěpán so much. He admired the importance of that task, craved for the structure and order that it provided, and was, at least for a seventeen year old beardless man, as Sir Ondřej liked to call him, way more interested in books full of title deeds and legislative records than would have been good for him.

“When I was your age,” Zlenice's commander Sir Nikolai had told him once, “the only law I was interested in was the law of lovemaking, and the only writing I would care for was the one my cock left on the skirts of some pretty girl.” And Štěpán would have all the assets required to be a great philanderer, Nikolai had asserted! The full dark locks of Iwain the lion knight, the slim fingers and legs of King Charles himself, round cheeks, full lips and long lashes that every girl in the whole of Bohemia would swoon over. Štěpán had as little interest in skirt hunting as he had in the hunting of anything else, nor was he as convinced of his own talents in this regard as the old knight was. But then again, Sir Nikolai had also told him once that he'd make a fine sword fighter, and the whole of Zlenice knew how that one had ended!

His interests clearly lay elsewhere. Which land belonged to whom and for what costs, for example, and more importantly, under what circumstances could this established order be revoked. In recent years, he had also developed a certain affinity for the exceptional rights and authorities of the church, especially considering what was happening in Prague. That mysterious white knight, Petr of Haugwitz as he called himself, wasn't particularly fond of Štěpán's interest in the latter. While Štěpán wasn't particularly fond of Petr of Haugwitz.

Just as little as he was fond of the disputes that both nobility and commoners alike called him over for these days. Or rather, that they called Sir Ondřej for, but since the lord had seen his nineteenth spring already, he had bestowed these tasks upon his ward Štěpán. Tasks that included the innkeper Adam selling his beer for a quarter groschen too many, or the guild of the tanners missing to organise their second required procession this year, or baker Marek leaving his horse unattended in the middle of the village square, and on a market day of all times. And God knew how many of those disputes Štěpán had to settle today!

The sun had long set when he led his horse across the drawbridge marking the entrance to the main castle of Zlenice. There were stables outside the castle walls in the outer bailey, but Štěpán preferred to have his chestnut mare Šárka as close by as possible. One could never know when it was needed to flee the castle unexpectedly. Or when adventure might strike.

The light of Jan's torch was so blindingly bright that Štěpán had to cover his eyes for a moment. The guard had stuck the torch into the wet earth of the ground, while he himself had taken a seat on the lowest stairs inside the castle gate, playing dice against himself. And why shouldn't he? Nothing ever happened on Zlenice. The guard still had enough vigilance in him, though, to raise his head as Štěpán passed him by. “Good night, Sir.”

“Good night to you as well.” He pulled the reigns tighter, and Šárka pranced around on her crooked hind legs. Tiredness started to get to her too. “Would you happen to know where I can find Sir Ondřej at this hour?”

“He ate early today, Sir. Wanted to find some rest, the cough had got worse again.”

Štěpán took a deep sigh and nodded. No surprising news, it always got worse on days like these when the weather changed so drastically, bringing cold air up from the river, chasing away the warmth of spring. Sometimes, when it wasn't only the temperature of the air that changed but also its humidity or the force of the wind, Sir Ondřej used to cough so much his whole face would first get red as poppies and then white as milk. “It's always a shame,” Sir Nikolai had told Štěpán once when his guardian's cough had been so bad he had just quit breathing altogether for a while, making everyone believe he must already be standing on the threshold to Saint Peter's door. “But he has lived a long life, longer than the rest of us can even dream of. And eh, who knows, lad, you might inherit a thing or two now?” Of course Štěpán wouldn't. He wasn't related to Sir Ondřej Dubá of Zlenice, was only the grandson of one of the lords Sir Ondřej had once bought the castle from, the eleventh grandson, that was. He hadn't been sent to Zlenice in the hopes of inheriting anything, but for two simple reasons alone. To help out the King's highest judge with his work in his old days, and, by fulfilling this duty, strengthen the ties between the Dubá family and the lords of Tetín. And because for the eleventh grandson, the youngest brother of seven, there was no better use for him back at home anyway.

“Have they sent for the physician again?”

Jan shook his head and put the dice down. “Haugwitz didn't think it necessary.”

“As if he could tell,” Štěpán pressed out through gritted teeth.

“Well, with all due respect, Sir, but the old lord is a tough fella. This cough couldn't get him for the past ten years, and I doubt it will tonight.” Jan chuckled, staring down into his torch, as if the flames had just told him a very entertaining joke. “If that old lord dies, it might just be because he slips on his way to his shitter.” He was still smiling when he raised his gaze again, but winced immediately under the stare that Štěpán regarded him with. “Forgive me, Sir.”

Štěpán shrugged his shoulders. “We should make sure to keep the steps to his latrine always clean then.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Is Haugwitz with him right now?”

“No, Haugwitz is over there.” Jan nodded into the direction of the stables. “Wanted to take care of his horse.”

“Ah. I see.” Štěpán looked over to the small shed with the flickering light inside, and swallowed down the lump that had quickly formed in his throat. Maybe using the stables down in the outer bailey didn't sound like such a bad idea anymore. Ha, so much for adventure calling!

He dismounted Šárka and went over to the castle stables by foot, hoping that it would help against the quick pumping of his heart and the growing numbness in his legs. Štěpán wouldn't have considered himself to be a particularly scared man. Weak yes, that he was, and lacking any skill when it came to handling a sword, that too. But he had always longed to leave this castle one day and see the world, only that such an opportunity had never presented itself to him, keeping his travels confined to the local villages and his actions to those sealed with ink on parchment. That didn't mean he wouldn't like to follow the sweet song of fate wherever it led him, of course.

Šárka shied, threw her head back and neighed. Perhaps the horse felt it too, and what was wrong about it? Certain events and certain people just required a little more wariness.

Petr of Haugwitz was standing next to his black stallion, his back turned to the entrance. He had lid the torch on the wall, and its light made his perfectly white armour and his golden hair shine like paper thrown into a fireplace. The horse and the saddle bags he was rummaging through were hidden under the shadow that his tall, broad body cast.

Šárka neighed again and pulled on the reigns more firmly. Štěpán put a soothing hand to her neck and imagined their roles to be reversed and that she was in fact the one giving him an encouraging pat on the back. “Jesus Christ be praised.”

He refused to call the white knight Sir, ever since Haugwitz had come riding through the castle gates in late December, just a few days before the beginning of the year 1410. Pale skin, pale hair, pale armour, pale as the snow that had surrounded him. Only the glove made an exception, a single black leather glove wrapped around his belt, that he never wore but carried with him every day. Petr of Haugwitz was a strange man in all regards. A noble that spoke and growled like a bloodhound, and everything that he said seemed to be only uninformed opinions that weren't even his own. He spoke ill of the Prague demands for church reforms without knowing much about it, claimed to be a strong supporter of the King, but was tightly involved with Heinrich of Rosenberg's affairs who had been known for his loyalty towards the Hungarian usurper Sigismund. Still, in the mere span of a month or so, the white knight had managed to form a suspiciously close relationship to Sir Ondřej, yet another reason to be wary of him. And then of course there was his most obvious flaw, the one thing that kept Štěpán from ever using the title Sir when addressing him. No book or legal document Štěpán had consulted could provide him with any evidence that a Petr of Haugwitz had ever existed.

The white knight didn't utter a word of greeting, but he raised his head and looked over at Štěpán as he led Šárka inside. Pale eyes as well, cold and wet, like dripping daggers of ice.

Štěpán turned away to hide the deep breath he was taking, but it was quiet enough in the stable for his breathing to be heard. Perhaps Haugwitz could even hear his heart and see the blood rush through his veins quicker and hotter than it should. With this stare of his it wouldn't be surprising. “I heard that my guardian's health has been put to the test today, while I was gone.”

Haugwitz started looking through his things again, waiting long before he gave an answer. Not as long as it felt, most likely, but in the white knight's presence, the grains of the hourglass of time always seemed to get drowned in sticky honey. “He is sleeping now.”

Not the answer Štěpán had hoped to get, but then he also hadn't posed a proper question. “Sleep will do him good for sure.” His voice was so quiet and frail now, not even the voice of a seventeen year old weak student of the law, but the voice of a frightened child. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Haugwitz didn't reply but the silence said it all. The shared understanding of secrets Štěpán would better not ask about. The threat of what would happen if he still did.

Noise outside at the gate. The rattling of armour, steel scraping over steel as a weapon was drawn. Someone gasped from exhaustion, someone screamed. Jan. “Not a step further, you hear me?”

Štěpán rushed outside, closely followed by Haugwitz. Jan had left his place on the gate's stairs, the dice had fallen down, lay scattered across the dirt. His sword was raised, its tip aimed at the neck of a man who had appeared on the drawbridge. He stood bent over, hands resting on his thighs, panting heavily. The man was armed with a sword himself, but had it sheathed on his hip. He wore armour, but only on his legs and forearms, while a padded doublet was the only protection for his chest. Grey and brown cloth from what little Štěpán could tell in the dim torchlight, and there didn't seem to be crest on it.

He stepped forward until he stood next to Jan, and placed a hand on his wrist lightly, reminding him not to act without his command. “I am Sir Štěpán of Tetín, the ward of Sir Ondřej Dubá, who is the lord here in Zlenice. Who sent you?”

“No one, Sir.” The man's voice was only a hoarse rattling, winter wind in the castle walls. “I just ran, Sir, ran as quickly as I could. I saw the castle up here and hoped for help. I need help, Sir, you need to help me.”

“Help with what? Where did you run from, what happened to you?”

“I'm a mercenary, Sir. I was serving Father Thomas of the Prague synod. But he is dead now, Sir. Killed. A bolt in his throat, shot from the bushes like some animal.”

“Go and wake Lord Ondřej.” Haugwitz's harsh voice, a command that he had no authority for, and Jan moved without any hesitation. Štěpán couldn't blame him. The soldier was just as scared of Haugwitz as he was, and how could he dare to question him in a situation like this?

There was more Štěpán wanted to ask, but Haugwitz stepped forward now, ordering the man to come into the castle with them, to drink some strong wine and wait for Sir Ondřej. Fine then, Štěpán thought. After the shock and the fright from before and the hardships of the day, he could really use some of that wine now, too.

Sir Ondřej Dubá of Zlenice had to lean on Jan as he dragged himself into the dining hall, and his bloated face was slack with fatigue, but at least he had stopped coughing. “So,” he wheezed as Jan had finally managed to help him sit down on his chair, which creaked under his weight, “tell me what happened, boy. And don't leave out a single thing.”

The boy in question was a man of at least thirty years, Štěpán could see that now in the brighter light of candle holders and fireplace, but to a man of Sir Ondřej's age everyone qualified to be called boy. “My name is Lukas, my Lord. I was hired as a mercenary together with two other men to accompany the priest Thomas of Prague on his way to the synod there.” He was speaking much calmer now, the wine seemed to show an effect. It helped Štěpán to sharpen his wits too, and so he noticed how the man strictly avoided to look at Haugwitz who had taken his place at the side of the hall, leaning against the fireplace. “We just passed through a gorge close to Jezonice, when we got approached by what seemed to be two other priests.”

“When was that, boy?”

“Just after sunset, Sir.”

Štěpán furrowed his brow. “Why were you travelling at that time of the day? There would be no more inn to stop at for at least ten more miles.”

“I know, Sir, but we had just rested until this afternoon, in Uzhitz, that was. We had met two other men there, a Hungarian and a … a drunkard with a croaking voice. Kubyenka was his name, I believe.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Štěpán could see Haugwitz baring his teeth at the mentioning of these men.

“But they were witty, especially this Kubyenka fella, and Father Thomas shared some wine with him, and they played dice and talked. They seemed trustworthy, and when they told us about robber bands roaming these lands who were on the look for merchants, during the day of course, when most merchants would travel, well, it made sense to us, Father Thomas believed them and so did we. So we stayed until the afternoon, and only continued our way then.”

“Hm.” Štěpán tried to put as little judgement into his voice as he could. If there was one thing the solving of too many a mundane village dispute had taught him it was to listen to the whole story first without much questioning, because any of that could twist even the most well-meant truth into a lie of uncertainty. “These priests. Did they say anything to you?”

“They did, Sir, and quite a lot in fact. They claimed that they had just stayed in Prague themselves and were on their way back to their parish now. They also said that they had met with Jan Hus. That he had shared his believes with them, and that they would know that those believes were God's true words, because our Lord had performed a miracle while Hus was speaking. And that there would be miracles whenever someone repeated these truths. They wanted to show us.” He raised his eyes. There was fright in them, a mortal terror, and for a brief moment his gaze fell upon Haugwitz, and the flicker of fear became a wildfire. “The younger one of the two took out this … construction. It was made of glass, like a lantern, but all empty inside. And then he said that the only word a Christian should follow should be that of the Saviour, not that of any priest or nobleman, and that no priest or bishop and not even the Pope himself could claim to be holy by his ordination alone, that it were only the life a clergy man leads that would make him holy, his chastity, humility, poverty. And then he raised this lantern above his head, and suddenly … suddenly …” He swallowed, tears turning his dark eyes into ink. He took another sip from the wine. “Someone shot Father Thomas. With the bolt of a crossbow, right into his throat. And there were so many armed men up in the forest, and I was scared, I was so scared, and I just ran for it. I am so sorry. I should have stayed, but I couldn't, I …” The man wiped his nose with the back of his hand, before he looked up, first at Štěpán, then at Jan and finally at Sir Ondřej, but not at Haugwitz this time. “Was that the will of God, Sir? Was it divine punishment that Father Thomas had to … That he was …”

“No, boy. That was only the doing of conspirators. Traitors to the land, and to the church. And to God.”

“How many were there?” Štěpán could feel the other's looks weighing down heavily on him, especially Haugwitz's. He was suspicious about the mercenary's story, the white knight knew it, and he didn't like it. “You said there were armed men hidden in the forest. How many exactly?”

“I could not tell, Sir. It was dark, and I … I ran as fast as I could.” Lukas ducked his head between his shoulders like a scared fowl. Surely he was just as aware of the punishments for cowardice as Štěpán was. “But there was the one with the crossbow, and others too, lots of them, men with swords and axes and all that, I could hear them, see a few of them even, I … I don't think Jenda and Maretschek stood a chance.”

“The other mercenaries?” Sir Ondřej asked.

“Aye.”

“But why so many?” Haugwitz's ice cold stare pulled tight around his neck, strangled him like a noose. Štěpán noticed how he brought a hand down, but not to the handle of his sword but to the glove on his belt, wrapping his fingers around it, as if he wanted to entangle them with the empty leather ones. “There were only three of you and a priest. While they had two men in disguise, probably skilled fighters too, an archer with a crossbow, and all these other men that you saw.”

“I … I suppose they wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure of what? That they got rid of you all? But to what end? They clearly wanted to set an example, so what good would it do them if there was no one left to tell the tale? And why then go through all this effort, the disguise, the theological discussion, if they just planned to murder you anyway?”

The chair next to him creaked as Sir Ondřej moved around on it with a groan. Next to the hissing fireplace, Haugwitz squeezed the glove so tightly that the leather let out a desperate whine. “Perhaps they wanted him to escape. Let him run, so he could spread the message.”

“And what message would that be? That the followers of Jan Hus are dangerous and mischievous, not to be trusted at any cost? How could that be in their own interest, how would that benefit their cause?”

“What are you suggesting here, Štěpán?”

He shook his head at Sir Ondřej, at a loss for an explanation. Getting duped over the price of beer, or finding someone's horse parked in the middle of the market street seemed so much more appealing all of a sudden. But wasn't this just the change he had waited for for so long, the adventure he had craved? Only that for this adventure, a priest had died, as well as two mercenaries and a few more men perhaps, and somehow Zlenice was now tied up in all of this too, and if the church found out about it, if the archbishop got wind of the murder of a synod member from Prague, ambushed by Hus supporters out on the streets close to Zlenice, it would be a political disaster. “Something about all of this stinks to high heaven! And I would strongly advise not to jump to any hasty conclusions.”

“And do what instead?”

Lukas buried his face in his wine cup again. Sir Ondřej had his hands wrapped around the armrests of his chair so tightly, his knuckles went all white. Haugwitz plucked something off his armour and threw it into the fire. The smell of burned cotton filled the air like a threat. “I will go to this gorge myself.” Even Štěpán himself was taken by surprise by his own confidence, but there was no stopping now. “I will have a closer look at the scene of the crime, and tell you what I could find afterwards, so we can take proper actions.”

Haugwitz shook his head, his lips formed silent words that none of them could or should hear, before he actually spoke. “So how long do you plan to wait until we take these actions? Until their bodies have gone cold? Until someone else finds them and gets word out to Prague before we can?”

“We won't get word out to anyone,” Štěpán said with a firmness in his voice that seemed to confuse Haugwitz too, because he lifted his eyes from the fire at these words, fixed them at Štěpán instead. “The sole accountability here lies with Sir Ondřej and Sir Ondřej alone.”

“Then I will go with you at least. Two pairs of eyes will see more.”

“No, I will go on my own. When looking for evidence, any additional man would just get in the way.”

Haugwitz showed his teeth again. The face of a rabid dog. “This is foolishness.”

“I agree.” Sir Ondřej's cheeks took a deep shade of red as he tried to shift his weight from one side to the other. “With both of you. You will go alone, Štěpán. Gather whatever information you can and then report it to me. But hurry. The murder of a member of the church on my lands is a delicate affair, and one we must not leave ignored for too long.” He coughed. Coughed until his face went pale once more, and then paler than before, and sweat pearled from his brows and upper lip, mingling with saliva around the corners of his mouth. He reached out his left arm like a helpless rooster whose wings were clipped. Jan took hold of it and helped him up to his feet, dragging him over to the door. “If you haven't returned with the ringing of the bells at noon,” Sir Ondřej said before leaving the hall, every word accentuated by a cough or a sharp inhalation of breath, “I will see myself forced to write to Prague without your consultation.”

“Yes, Sir.” Štěpán stood up and bent his head to Sir Ondřej Dubá of Zlenice in a bow that only the mercenary and the white knight could see. “I won't disappoint you, my lord.”

* * *

“Shit!” He swung his arm. The head of the mace described a picturesque circle in the air before it slammed into a wooden pillar of the attic. Under the roof, high up above their heads, a handful of swallows scattered out angrily into the Kuttenberg morning sky. “Fucking shit!”

“Calm yourself, Žižka.”

He turned around and laughed Katherine right into her annoyingly blank expression. “Calm myself? Calm myself? How exactly am I supposed to calm myself with this fucking disaster that went on out there?” He pulled the mace out of the beam with some force, wood splintered. Damn it all, he should have rammed it straight into that little bastard's stomach before he sent them down to have a word with Schwarzfeld. It wouldn't have helped, Samuel wasn't to blame for what had happened, but perhaps that would have at least made him calm himself! “One of the priests of the Prague synod is dead, we tarnished the reputation of Jan Hus, two of our own men have stabbed us in the fucking back, how is any one of us supposed to stay calm?”

“You don't know what happened.” Katherine tried to sound oh so reasonable, and it was a joke, because there was no reason in what she said. “You don't know if Kubyenka and Janosh really betrayed us. What if they are dead? What if Sam is right, what if it was only Schwarzfeld who turned on us, and Kubyenka and Janosh were rotting somewhere in the forest near Uzhitz, and you were desecrating their memory right now, what then?”

“Then,” he lowered his voice and stepped forward slowly, a demonstration of his anger, he didn't want to scare her, but he could still see her warm, morning haze eyes widen in a way that made his skin crawl from shame, “I'd be a happier man. Then I could proudly say that they were the soldiers, the friends, that I rightfully set my trust in. Believe me, I'd rather desecrate their memory a thousand times over than see them become traitors.”

Katherine didn't reply, only breathed in deeply, but she would understand. Would see that his anger wasn't for her, wasn't even for Kubyenka and Janosh, and that he had wanted to beat that little shit Samuel up only because something in that boy's defiance reminded Žižka of himself ever so often.

“I understand your frustration,” Henry tried to keep his voice as quiet and placid as he possibly could, “but Katherine has a point. This is all just speculation. We need to find them first, and even if they're still alive, we don't have any clue yet what really happened, or what went on inside their heads.”

“It doesn't mater, don't you understand? They weren't there, and the whole plan went to shit. My plan!”

“Your plan, yes, but we were the ones to execute it, and Schwarzfeld was our informant, and even if someone here betrayed us, it still doesn't make it your fault.”

Žižka turned to him. His voice had lost all its fury when he spoke again, it was low and growling now, a threat. “What am I, Henry?”

“What?”

“What am I? To you,” he pointed the head of the mace in Katherine's direction, “to her,” waved it around, at Henry and Godwin, at Hans and Samuel downstairs, at the swallows above him, “to anyone here? What role am I playing in this goddamned tragedy?”

Henry didn't answer, just kept his lips pressed together, his eyes big and bewildered like a beaten pup.

“What am I, Henry, tell me!”

The boy swallowed. “The captain. Our commander.”

“Your commander, yes.”

The next words spoken weren't uttered by Henry, and not by Katherine either, but by the priest who had been silently watching until this very moment, and unlike with the other two, there was nothing reassuring or calming in what he said, only blunt coldness. “You are right, Žižka. It is all your fault. You fucked up. You came up with the plan, and you commanded it. You questioned Schwarzfeld yourself, and apparently to no avail, you couldn't even keep an eye on your own men. We are deep in the shit, and while we all made our contribution to this endeavour, in the end, we only answer to you. So yes. There is absolutely no one to blame here but you.”

The silence that followed was so deafening that it roared in Žižka's ears like carriage wheels on a stone road. The boy's eyes were widened as he stared at Godwin, Katherine had her gaze lowered to the ground, her red lips slightly agape. Even the swallows seemed to have ceased their song, but Žižka paid them no mind. Cranes. The unmistakable grating sound of cranes, as they waded across the freshly frozen ground, searching for food. Fog in the air, hovering above the river to their right, breaking the light of a rising sun. Some of the sun's rays landed on Hynek's scarred face and on his ginger hair, painted it the colour of dust. Must have been the morning haze. “Do not try to keep me, Žižka. This life, settling somewhere, raising stray dogs together, ha. That is not for me.”He had tucked his hands under his armpits to keep them from shaking. Must have been the cold. “They are yours. You can grapple with them now. Like it always should have been.” Then he had left. Off to Austria. And Žižka had left to Humpolec and Krumlov, dealing with Rosenberg, and failing. When he had finally returned north, Hynek was gone. Not to Austria, and not to some other godforsaken land, but to Hell, where a Devil belonged. And the pack was in shambles, some scattered, some had moved on with life. Wenceslas had offered Žižka work in Prague. He hadn't refused it, but hadn't exactly accepted it either. He could have used his military skills for none other than the King himself, could have settled as a burgrave, but he didn't know how. So he had scraped up the pack once more, or what was left of it, because Henry had properly taken roots in Rattay with his Lord it seemed, and Godwin had built a more theoretical profession for himself in Prague, and the rest, the few he could find and motivate to return to Kuttenberg, had come to him like a horde of headless chickens, waiting for him to throw them some grains of purpose, and so he had fled once more. This time, he hadn't even told Katherine where he went, but they all found out anyway. Found out when he came back to Kuttenberg with his tail between his legs because the Teutonic Order had declined him. It is all your fault. You fucked up. There is absolutely no one to blame here but you.

Žižka nodded. The swallows had started singing again, or maybe they had never stopped, only the noise of the cranes had ceased now. “Henry. I need you to write two letters about what happened out there last night. Explain everything in full detail. One will be addressed to Wok of Waldstein, the other one to Jan Sokol of Lamberg. Leave out any unnecessary formalities and apologies, and don't ask them for support either, it should only be a prosaic rendition of the events and their possible consequences so that they know what they have to prepare for. Once these letters are written, you will ride out and deliver them to your father at Vyšehrad. He will know where to find Waldstein and Lamberg, and you will report to him too, by word of mouth. We will join you in Prague soon. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Then leave us alone.”

Henry took a brief bow, turned and walked over to the ladder. His broad back straight as a lance, the steps firm. A blacksmith, an advisor, a soldier, a knight. His hair had grown longer, his beard too, he had matured so much from the boy Žižka had left back then in Suchdol, but into what, Žižka couldn't tell. He hoped Henry could tell at least, hoped it for him.

His eyes wandered over to Katherine, who was looking up at him now expectantly. “You too, Kat,” he said, and Katherine responded with a nod. “I need to talk to Godwin in private.” She left without a word. There were things on her mind that she wanted to say, Žižka could tell, but she would safe them for later, knew that this mattered to him now. She always knew so well.

Žižka waited until he heard both their footsteps disappeare downstairs, before he set himself into motion. He walked over to where the silver rays of light were dancing on the parchment he had spread across the table. Maps, letters, charters, requests, so many names that he had long drowned in. It smelled of ink and wax, dry wood and dust. “I appreciate your honesty, Godwin.” He gave a soft laugh that didn't really carry any amusement with it. “In fact, you seem to be the only one here who's not trying to butter me up like a cake.”

“We barely made it out of this ambush alive. Kubyenka and Janosh are missing. The Prague church might be on our tails soon. It's only understandable that they are worried about you.” “I don't need them to be worried, much less about me.” He turned, faced the priest. He wasn't wearing the cassock anymore that Žižka had got for them, had changed it for a simple brown tunic and a black cotton hose. It suited him much better. “I need them to follow my orders and not shy away from being honest with me when my plans turn into a catastrophe. How can I be a commander when they are not fulfilling their roles as soldiers?”

Godwin shook his head and smiled softly. It was a miracle how little he had changed since they had last met. His bald skin as smooth as ever, full cheeks, a faint stubble, dark, not grey, even his brows had some colour left in them. Prague certainly did him good. “Don't be too hard on them, Jan, and please, don't judge them by my standards. I know what it's like to serve in a war as a proper soldier, they don't. All they know is how to fight amongst friends.”

It is true, Žižka thought. They had fought battles before, had called him captain and commander, but that was only ever a technicality, because he had been the one to come up with the plans, to give the orders, and occasionally they had even followed them faithfully, and afterwards they had got pissed together, had laughed and quarrelled and got into a brawl. Because they had never been an army, a troop, had only been a pack, a pack of drunkards and outcasts and robbers, a pack of devils. But a pack that was pretty damn good at what they did, because through all this they had never faltered in their respect and trust for each other. “I won't blame them for their friendship. I welcome it, in fact.” He turned around to the table again, took the tankard and poured wine into the two cups next to it, bringing the one Katherine had drunken from to his own lips, before he handed the other one over to Godwin. “There have been whole armies that were just made up of friends, did you know that, Godwin? I even heard of some Greek troop that only hired lovers. Lovers, can you imagine?” Žižka took another sip, and the wine caressed his tongue and burned in his throat, and he laughed. “They fought like no other army did, because they had a cause to fight for, not only abstract concepts of honour and patriotism, but friendship and love.”

“I did not know that.”

“It is a blessing, I suppose.” He took a deep sigh. Above them, the wood of the church's roof truss cracked, as it shrunk under the heat of a new, warmer April day. “I forgot what it feels like, you know? To command this group. The pack.”

He couldn't even remember how many years had passed and how exactly it had happened. There had been beer involved, and a hot bath, and cold steel pressed to his neck. “You hate the lords of this land, don't you?” Hynek had snarled. “And you want money, even better when it's their money, am I right? Well, I have an offer for you.”And then he had introduced him to his pack, some of them, that was, while they had recruited the rest over the following year. Freeing them from prison, or being thrown into the same battle by fate, sometimes as allies, sometimes as foes. The requirement for joining the group was simple. They had to be bastards, lusting for money and willing to kick some nobility's arses. And that had worked well for a while, but times had changed, and they had grown older, and at some point money and a certain thirst for violence had stopped being the only two things that mattered.

Žižka drunk from the wine again, and was surprised to find the cup empty already. The wood cracked, the swallows chirped. It was warmer today. “Perhaps I even forgot what all of this entailed for me. What they needed from me. Perhaps that is just why Janosh and Kubyenka aren't with us right now.”

“Perhaps.” Godwin shrugged his shoulders in the same nonchalant way he always had about him. “But pondering on that won't bring them back.”

“You're right, it won't. That's what I like about you, Godwin.” Žižka rubbed dust out of his right eye as he returned to the table to pour himself another cup. The other one had no feeling left in it, the sight had been gone long before, after one misfortune too many. What did it matter? One eye was plenty, and he still had his ears to hear, his brains to think, and his heart, yes, his strength of will and bravery and resistance, and maybe that was all he needed. “You are straightforward. You focus on your target, not on courtesies and forced kindness.”

Godwin laughed cynically. “Well, I'm not sure whether that's always a good thing.”

“You are a soldier. And that's what I'm in dire need of right now. A soldier, not a friend.”

“I cannot promise you to be one without the other, Jan.” The priest smiled again, that damned soft smile of his, that always felt like it was mocking all the suffering of the world, as it made it everything appear so easy. “But that doesn't mean you cannot count on me. And if it's only a kick in the arse you need, well, I can provide that both as a soldier and as a friend.”

Žižka nodded. Then he sank down on the chair where Katherine had sat before, and it gave him courage, feeling both close to her and to Godwin alike. “I fucked up.”

“You did.”

“We lost two of our men, and it might have been my fault.”

“It might.”

He emptied the whole cup without putting it down. Good wine, sweet but strong, and it tingled in his fingers and his thighs and made his thoughts run faster. Just what he needed now. “The man I myself brought here to give us the information we needed seems to have stabbed us in the back, which not only ruined our plan, but might also soon put the whole church and the Prague militia on our arses.”

“Very likely, yes.”

“We also don't yet know why we were betrayed.” Žižka watched as Godwin came over to him to empty the rest of the tankard into his own cup, but he remained standing. Looked down on him with those warm, impartial eyes, waiting, anticipating. “Given that Schwarzfeld volunteered his help to me on his own, he was either played himself, or he already came here with the intention to obstruct our plans. In either way, I doubt he acted alone. No, he was sent by someone way more powerful. And I already have a hunch who that could have been.” The biggest bastard of them all, Žižka thought bitterly. The one who brought the League of Lords together, who helped imprison the King and crown the usurper, who had used his power to pressure commoners and lower nobility alike all around Trotznow. And Žižka had got him back good for a while. Infiltrating his gold mines in Humpolec, and then Rosenberg's very own estate in Krumlov, serving him under a different name, pouring the fucker his wine without him ever noticing. Heinrich of Rosenberg had long stopped caring about Sigismund and Wenceslas. No, this had become personal. “But that's only speculation, and we can't go to war over baseless accusations. Perhaps Hans and Samuel will find out more.”

“Oh, I'm sure of that.”

“It's also a good thing Kobyla, Waldstein and Lamberg will be informed, so they can take precautions for similar ruses being planned against them.” Radzig and Jan had after all been dealing with Rosenberg themselves over the past year, but he was tough, that sly cur. “But this is not only about us. Hus has just been prohibited from his sermons for heresy, and I might have just made the whole situation much worse for him. So we have to head out for Prague to let him know directly, only that I don't know yet how to best arrange that.”

“I think I may be able to help out with that.”

He raised his right eyebrow, looked up at the priest. There was a strained grin around Godwin's lips that was both intriguing and concerning. “You do?”

“I may have made it sound a little easier than it actually is,” Godwin stammered, the words broken by an occasional nervous chuckle. “But we do share a certain group of friends, and I know the church he still goes to to preach, despite the archbishop's edict, and well, I also know the place where he's teaching. In fact,” a sip of wine, another chuckle, squinting his warm eyes, “I live there.”

“Where?”

“At the Prague university.”

“You do? Ha, Godwin, a man of a thousand talents, you've become a scholar now!”

“Oh, far from it.” He waved his cup around as if in defence, and a few drops of the good wine spilled over. “At least not as long as Hus is rector there, and we can only pray that he stays such for a while longer. But I am willing to learn, and I like to engage myself in theological discussion from time to time.”

“So what's stopping you then?”

“Well. Hus is. And my,” he cleared his throat, “lifestyle.” It was clear that he had no intention to elaborate on it further, but Žižka didn't know what to make of his insinuations either, and after a short pause he finally added: “Let's just say, a man like Hus who is holding values like decency and austerity in high esteem is not all that keen on a man who was kicked out of his own parish for drinking and whoring around. And,” he scratched his neck in embarrassment, “I may even have told Hus about it myself. Over a drink too many. So we're not on the very best terms.”

Žižka wanted to laugh, but he held it back, as not to humiliate Godwin any further. “I see.”

“But, as I said, I happen to share friends with him. So if you want me to, I could try convincing them to arrange a meeting or at least deliver our message.”

“That may fully ruin your reputation with Hus.”

“Oh, I doubt that surrounding myself with mercenaries and robbers will come in any way as a surprise to him.”

Now he couldn't hold back the laughter any longer. To his relief, Godwin didn't seem to mind, the tightness even vanished from his expression and made room for a genuine smile. “Damn it, Godwin, you really have made a horrible first impression on that man, hm?”

“Perhaps one of the only things I'm truly good at.”

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and suddenly Žižka thought he could feel a hand twist his left arm back, and a blade pressed to his throat, and the rush of danger and excitement pumping through his veins. “Well, you certainly made an impression on me, and I can't claim it was a bad one.”

“A knife on your throat doesn't make a bad impression on you?”

“Quite the contrary. It was everything I needed to convince me of your qualities.”

There was certain fondness on Godwin's face now, and Žižka wondered whether he was still thinking back to their first meeting at Nebakov or to other moments they had shared. Godwin kept it a secret. When he stepped forward to put the empty cup on the table and place a hand on Žižka's shoulder, he was all soldier again, and even more so, a friend. It was probably for the best. “Well. Off to Prague then?”

“We will wait for what Hans and Samuel can find out from Schwarzfeld. Then we'll pack and saddle our horses. I wouldn't like to stay under the same roof with a bloody traitor much longer anyway.” He stood up, and his legs felt steady despite the wine, filled with new courage, new hope. “Time for a relocation.”

* * *

“Sam. Sam, wait!” Hans quickened his steps to catch up with Samuel, who was storming ahead like an angry bull let loose. He reached out a hand, to hold him back by his right arm, and when Sam twirled around, his face was twisted both in anger and pain. Fuck. Hans knew that he had some bruises and cuts on his hands and face too, and when he had scratched his beard before, he had felt dried blood clumping the hair together as if he had spilled his last drink all over himself. Whatever he must look like, though, could not have been worse than this. Shit, even Sam's hand up to the root of his fingers was darkened and swollen. No wonder he was bursting with fury. “Just steady down a little, yes?”

“What?”

“We want to talk to him first. I doubt he will tell us all that much if we just beat him up.”

“Torture makes every man sing in the end.”

Hans closed his eyes for the briefest moment and took a deep breath. So, here we go again. God, give me strength to deal with this fool! “Yes, but it can also lead to them not telling you what you actually need, but only what they think you want to hear. Besides, I'd be happy if we could do this without any torturing.”

“You want to show him mercy?” Sam took a step closer to him now, so close that Hans could smell him again. Not so calming now. The leather, incense and hot iron were only barely recognisable, overshadowed by sweat and blood and dirt. “Do you think he would show any mercy to us?”

“That doesn't mean we need to sink to the same level.”

“We could never sink so low.” His voice was all rough and growling, his eyes had taken the colour of grass overgrown by frost. “They act only out of greed and maliciousness.”

“Who is they? This isn't only about Schwarzfeld anymore, is it?”

“Of course it isn't! This is about something way bigger than him that you just won't understand!” He was screaming now, and Hans looked down the stairs of the tower, hoping Schwarzfeld couldn't hear them from his quarters in the adjacent community hall. “And this is about me being fed up with always getting betrayed!”

“But this time, it has nothing to do with you or your people. This is about Jan Hus, and Žižka maybe, and who knows whatever …”

“It is always the same, don't you see that? You tell me your story, and you do not understand it yourself!” The words hurt more than they should have, felt similar to the betrayal. He hadn't told Sam these secrets of his past, things he hadn't even told Henry before, only to have them used against him. “It does not matter to them whether it is people with a different faith, or a different political ideal, or a different way to love. To them we are all just vermin. Disposable tools used in their feuds. Even a lord like you.”

“Fine, fine, I get it! This is all a big chess game to the people in charge, and we are all just pieces on the board, even Žižka.” He would not be treated like a naïve child any longer, he was a ruler now, a proper lord, a fucking father! And when he now forced himself to keep his voice down and talk reassuringly to Sam, it almost felt as if he was instead talking to Heinrich or Hedwig. “But that is just the thing, you see, Schwarzfeld is very likely just another piece on this chess board himself, the same as Janosh and Kubyenka may have been. So if we truly want to find out who plays this game, we need to talk to him. Without violence.”

“I am done talking! My zeyde only talked when they hunted us down and expelled us from Prague. Your lords only talked when they blamed Liechtenstein and us for every bad deed that was ever committed in this country and hunted us down again and expelled us from Kuttenberg. Just as we had been doing nothing but talk a few years before, when they accused us of conspiring against Sigismund's uprising, when Hannah …” He pressed his lips together as if he had to physically stop more words from spilling out of him. The things he had said must have already been painful enough.

Hans nodded. “Yes, but back then you tried to cease the talking and take action instead, and it's not like that worked out.” He saw Sam's eyes widen in shock, as he realised that Hans had listened. It wasn't like he had tried to deceive Sam in any way, sleep had overcome him last night and rendered him unable to speak, and Sam's talking had served as his lullaby that Hans had slowly drowned in until the very last bitter drop. “Look, I understand that you feel angry. I do too. We were supposed to die out there. Well, you were.” He could see that Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Hans interrupted him with a shake of his head. “You don't have to thank me for it. Would things have got any more dire, I'm sure I could have just talked myself out of it by showing them my ring.” It was a lie of course, there had been four of them surrounding him in the end, they would have never given him enough time to throw his fucking family crest in their face, given they could even recognise it, let alone see it in that darkness of the forest. “But it's not only about me. Henry was down there too, exposed. This could have ended up a lot worse.” There were tears burning in his eyes all of a sudden, and he swallowed down the fear that had crept into his throat. A long, rough night lay behind them, Sam wasn't the only one in need of some good sleep anymore. “Henry swore to protect me once, and I did the same. I know he hated the last seven years when he was stuck at the Leipa court, but at least it was safe there, for the most part. It kept him out of shit like this.”

“I doubt that he hated it or felt stuck there.” Even Sam's voice sounded rougher now than it usually did, and something in his eyes had become softer, warmer. The frost melted, leaving behind fresh and vibrant grass, swaying soothingly in the breeze. “At least things moved on for you. He has found his place …”

“Believe me, he hasn't.”

“He has found you.”

But is that enough? Hans thought, not daring to say the words out loud.

“I tried to build something for my people in Kolín, but in the end …” Sam shook his head. Not angry anymore, only tired. “Prague, Kuttenberg, Kolín, it's all the same. I did not only join this mission to do Henry a favour. I have heard of Jan Hus too. We do not share the same faith, but his opposition against clerical and worldly rulers and against them justifying their rule by some allegedly God-given laws, I can agree with that. I had hope that this here could change something for once. But it's like you said, we are all just chess pieces. And it makes me feel helpless, and I don't want to …” He struggled for a little while, finding the right words, before he gave up.

Hans nodded. Reached out a hand and put it on Sams's arm, the left one, and as lightly as he could. “Fair. Totally fair. And that is exactly why we need to handle this with reason.”

Sam returned the nod, then they smiled softly at each other. They were both scared, they had both suffered, had both been betrayed, but if they handled this together and with a cool head, they might still get some revenge, or some answers, or at the very least some fucking rest.

They went down the last few flights of stairs a little faster, then took the door at its end that led them right into the community hall, where Father Čeněk had offered them a few rooms to stay in, with the first one on the left being assigned to Schwarzfeld. They were both surprised to find Čeněk in the noble's room as they entered, and from the looks of it, both men weren't any less startled by their sudden appearance. They didn't get to ask any questions about it, as the priest just straightened his back and left with a short bow and a mumbled “My lords.” He just called all of them lord, just as he called Katherine lady. He was too old, he said, to remember which one of them held a title, and which one of those titles were also acknowledged by the King.

Sir Robert Schwarzfeld was sitting at his table, with a book and a piece of parchment in front of him. He had his sparse auburn hair covered by a cap of dark blue velvet, adorned with a peacock feather, as if he wanted to make an impression. On whom though, remained the question. Žižka had forbidden him to leave the church for at least three days now.

Schwarzfeld took in the sight of Hans and Sam for a little while, letting his eyes wander down their bloodied and bruised faces, resting on Sam's wrist a little longer, before he finally had the decency to open his mouth in shock. “Did they fight you?”

“Whom?” Hans stepped forward until he was standing right next to the writing desk. The room had no windows, the only sources of light were a candle on the table and the fireplace at the back wall, and both painted long, dancing shadows on Schwarzfeld's lean face. “You mean the four men that you promised us? Oh, do not worry, Sir, there were just three of them, and one of them even ran for the hills right away. Just after that priest was shot. And not by our men.” He waited a while, examining the way in which Schwarzfeld's expression slowly changed. He was a bad actor and a worse liar, so horrible, however, that it served as the perfect cover for whatever he truly thought or felt. “You set this up. You lured us into a trap.”

Schwarzfeld shook his head so vehemently that the peacock feather almost bent down all the way to his long, hooked nose. “I did not know this would happen.”

“Du falsher khazer,” Sam hissed behind him.

Hans raised a hand, demanding him to keep quiet, without taking his eyes off Schwarzfeld. “You know what, Sir? I actually believe you. Because I consider you way too unimportant to be assigned a task like this. And not nearly clever enough to execute it all on your own either. But still, these men, a dozen or so of them,” Hans crouched down next to Schwarzfeld with a crooked, dangerous smile, “they knew us well. They weren't only informed about where all of this would take place. They also knew who we were. In fact, they knew more than we ever let you in on.”

“See?” Schwarzfeld's face brightened up so much that it seemed someone must have set it on fire. “It could not have been me then, could it?”

“Oh, it could. It's just that someone else must have informed you. Someone who knew more than you and brought you all this knowledge. So that you could use your money and influence to gather a few more men and have them stab us in the back.”

“What, you think there is some ominous man behind me who would know all of this?”

“I think there is one, yes, but he doesn't care about the details. He just pays you and gives you the ideas that you could never come up with on your own.” He tried to hurt Schwarzfeld's pride as much as he could, but it was hard to tell whether it worked. The lord's face changed its mood and colour so vigorously with every next sentence Hans spoke, it could have meant anything. Time to catch him by surprise then. “But Kubyenka and Janosh knew. And since they aren't here with us right now …”

Schwarzfeld let out a laughter that could have carried anything from an injured pride to disbelief. “And yet you are accusing me!”

“Yes, I am accusing you. Don't you want to ask me who Kubyenka and Janosh are?”

Schwarzfeld's face changed his colour once more, he got paler around his long nose, Hans could tell even in the candlelight, and this time he knew very well what it meant. Nervousness. “Well, two of your men much likely.”

“Oh, clever. But you did not seem surprised in the slightest when I mentioned their names.”

“It …” He stumbled over his own words, and not deliberately now. “It was evident from what you said.”

Behind him, Sam pressed out air between his teeth. “This doesn't lead anywhere.”

“You're right.” Hans nodded, then he stood up and took a few steps back, still keeping his gaze fixed on Schwarzfeld as if it was a nail that Hans had driven into his lying body. “It doesn't. We should change our tactics, I suppose.” He gave a nod in Sam's direction. “You may. If you still have some anger to let loose.”

“Oh, lots of it.” Sam didn't waste any time. In just the blink of an eye, he had rushed forward, hitting Schwarzfeld in the face with the back of his left hand. The man started to whimper and beg immediately. “Did they come and visit you in private? Did you speak with our friends?”

“I … Please, I … I don't know what you're talking about!”

Sam hit him again, just on the same spot, and a little harder now. Hans flinched from the sight of it. “Kubyenka and Janosh. The two men you just all so eagerly remembered. Did you meet with them?”

“I …”

This time, Sam didn't even give him any time to stammer out more lies. He just grabbed the lord by the neck and slammed his forehead down on the table. The blue cap flew off, knocked over an inkwell, black liquid turned the peacock feather into that of a crow.

“I did!” Schwarzfeld pressed out, the words muffled and distorted with his nose pressed against the wood of the table. “They came to me! They said they didn't trust … didn't trust in Žižka anymore, and asked me if I could … could help them, and … I didn't know they planned an ambush like this, I just thought they might want to leave your group!”

Sam bowed down to him now, bringing his face so close to the other man's ear, Hans was certain Schwarzfeld could hear even the snarl in his breath. “Stop lying! Even if they wanted to leave us, they would just do so, instead of organising a dozen men to kill us. They wouldn't have dared to, nor would they have had the means to.”

“No, you're right, you're right, they wouldn't! But I'm sure they didn't have to. It was Egghead, yes, it must have been Egghead!”

Who? Hans wanted to ask, but he kept quiet for now, left the questioning to Sam, and he didn't have to wait long anyway.

“Who the fuck is Egghead?”

“The kind of man that you seek out when you need help with all kinds of fiddle that you cannot tell anyone else about. He will always help you, but only as long as you pay him better than someone else would.” Schwarzfeld tried to twist out of Sam's grip, but it only tightened more around his neck, as if all the strength that had left his right hand had flown into his left one instead. “I referred your friends to him! I told them I would want nothing to do with it, but that he could help them. Maybe they didn't even plan all of this either. They just wanted to get out. But I suppose they told him a thing too many, and he must have used that. Maybe he was already paid by someone else, I don't know, you got to believe me!”

“And where can we find this Egghead?”

“In Prague!” Schwarzfeld shouted out the word as if his life depended on it, despite Sam neither changing the position of his hand nor hitting him again. Sam could be frightening, Hans thought, but Schwarzfeld seemed to be scared to death. “I don't know where he lives, but there is this establishment that he frequents, Nový Venátky, a brothel, in the new part of the town, close to Charles Bridge. You just turn right once you cross the Vltava, not left, that's the way into the Jewish quarter, and you do not want to …” This time, Sam did take action, raising Schwarzfeld's head slightly by the neck and bringing it back down with force. The man groaned. Only out of pain, and not nearly as terrified as he had been before. “Ah no, no, I didn't mean it like that, I …”

“Stop babbling and get to the point!”

“Yes yes, Egghead, in Nový Venátky, you will find him there, I promise you! You cannot even miss him, he is bald, and his head just looks like an egg, and … Please, that's all I know, I swear, you must believe me, please …”

Hans stepped forward and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, but Sam wasn't his brother, and it took a while for him to respond. Then he finally let Schwarzfeld go with another unsatisfied snarl, and the lord slowly lifted himself up, twisting his head to all sides to ease the pain in his neck. “We do, Sir. We do believe you that this secret meeting with our friends was the only time you betrayed us.” Hans tried to put as much emphasis into these words as he could, to let Schwarzfeld know that his cooperation changed nothing. “And we're willing to take your honesty into account when we bring word to Žižka now.”

“Thank you.” Schwarzfeld's eyes were as big as plates again, and once more his exaggerated expressions obscured any true thought or feeling he may hold. “Thank you!”

Hans tugged on Sam's shoulder again. “Leave him be and let us go.”

Sam only spoke when they were back on the stairs of the church tower. “I hate it when you order me around like a dog.”

“But it worked, didn't it? You played your role well, we both did, and we didn't even have to rehearse anything.”

Instead of walking up the stairs again, Sam made his way out onto the gallery, and Hans followed him. Watched him lean down onto the parapet, looking down to the altar. Tinted blue light fell on his face through the church windows, making him seem more exhausted than ever. “I am not so sure we actually succeeded.”

“You don't believe him?”

“Not a single word.”

“Good.” Hans stopped next to him and lowered his eyes to the sanctuary. Father Čeněk had lit some candles to its side, their smoke crept up like snakes to the flat ceiling, above which Žižka and the others were hiding. “Because neither do I.”

“He gave in way too quickly, and his words kept running like water from a well. I did not even hit him all that hard.” Sam looked down on his hand, opened and closed his fingers, light flashing on the gemstones of the rings. A sapphire, an amethyst, a pale emerald in the colour of his eyes. “I've experienced much worse without saying a single word.”

The words echoed heavily through the emptiness of the building. Hans wanted to ask, but he didn't dare to. Brabant, he thought, and it made his skin crawl. He had been the one who had introduced that Frenchman into their group. He had been the one to tell the others how useful the baron would prove. Then Brabant had killed Adder for some bloody silver. Had tortured Sam to a point where it had taken him weeks to recover. Betrayed. Over and over and over again. “I …” He took a deep breath, blew the air out towards the roof, following the snakes of the candle smoke. “I am lucky enough to never have experienced torture myself. But I know what it can be like and what it does to you. From Henry.”

The amethyst flickered as Sam clenched the hand into a tight fist. He did not look up, didn't say a word, but Hans could see that this was an information he hadn't expected to hear.

“It was a long time ago. Shortly before we met you, in fact, back then at Trosky.”

“Von Bergow?”

“Yes. Or rather Istvan Toth on behalf of von Bergow.”

“Hm.” Sam furrowed his brow. Hans couldn't tell whether it were only clouds outside the window or something else entirely that painted his expression a few shades darker. “He never told me.”

“He wouldn't have told me either. But unlike you, I share a bed with him. Naked.” Hans tried to make it sound cheerful, failed miserably and relinquished the plan. “There are certain things you can hardly hide in such an intimate situation. Like the injuries that a knife leaves on your flesh. Or tongs, or a hammer.”

Sam pressed his fingers so tightly together now, that his knuckles turned white as snow. His right hand didn't even twitch. “I cannot believe that mamzer is still alive, while so many good people have died.”

“I know how you feel.” Oh, how well he did! He hadn't asked Henry about it on their first night together, and not on their second or third one either, even though back then the scars had still been fresh. He had waited until they had finally returned to Rattay. In part because he hadn't dared to ruin the excitement and joy of their first shared love with such painful thoughts. But he had also been scared of the answer he would get. That Henry would say Otto von Bergow's name, the man whose life Hans had defended with his honour. “But he's a nobleman. It's not worth getting yourself killed for. And since he fled the country, allowing me to never see his face again, he might as well be dead to me. So, as a wise man once said,” he gave Sam a smile, and didn't fail this time, even though it was all coated with sadness, “we should leave the dead behind and rather take care of the living.”

Sam nodded. The fist loosened a bit. “He really was wise. I wish we could have understood more of his wisdom.”

Hans had to chuckle at the thought. “Well, I'm not sure if much of his wisdom actually exceeded the lusting for female bodies.”

“And souls. Do not forget their souls. Adder could be quite romantic sometimes.”

They shared the laugh, and it was a welcome feeling, eased the anger and the fear and all the frustration of the previous hours. It brought back the exhaustion too. Jesus Christ, what Hans hadn't given for a soft bed and a good sleep now! “Come on.” He gave Sam's arm a pat, before he straightened himself to leave for the staircase. “We need to tell Žižka what we found out. And then we may need to pay beautiful Prague a visit. Schwarzfeld might have spoken nothing but lies, but I doubt he made this Egghead fella up. Maybe he can be someone to find out more from.”

They didn't have to search long for Žižka. They didn't even have to walk up the stairs, in fact. It was Žižka who came rushing down to them, closely followed by Godwin who had a pained smile on his lips, and Katherine who just shook her head silently at Hans and Sam as soon as she noticed them.

Žižka didn't care. He just laughed, put his hands to Hans's shoulders, and gave him a few strong slaps that almost tossed him over. “You're back, boys. Fantastic! Tell us what you found out on the way. We will leave for Prague!”

* * *

The place reeked of death from a few hundred feet away. It was a miracle nobody seemed to have taken note of it yet.

Perhaps it was still too early for anyone to come by. The sun had only just heaved its body over the horizon, birds of the night still shared their song with the birds of the morning, and both promised that there would be a wonderful day ahead.

There was no trace of that wonderful day out here in the gorge. On the first glance, it was only a carriage, stopped in the middle of the road, and some strange and twisted figures both on top of the carriage and in front of it. For any wanderer who wasn't familiar with death, it would take a while to understand that the horribly pale sack of rags hanging from the coachman's seat was actually a priest drained off all his blood. Then they would realise that the two other bundles on the ground where in fact the lifeless bodies of young men, sliced open neatly by swift strokes of a sword. And only then would they lift their gaze to the right and see the rest of the carnage. The corpses scattered across the slope of the hill, staining the grass the colour of copper.

Kubyenka and Janosh were more than familiar with death. They noticed the smell and they recognised the twisted shapes of a men who had died in agony. And yet, even Kubyenka had to swallow down his disgust at the sight of it.

“This is bloodbath,” Janosh breathed out behind him. “Look just like …”

“If you say anything about any kind of mashed food now, I swear, I'm going to forget myself.”

“What you think Janosh for? Heartless ox?”

Kubyenka ignored the remark and got closer to the carriage. Judging by the colour of their skin and the stiffness of their bodies, they were clearly lying here for a few hours. So this had happened just when their little fraud should have taken place. And things went horribly wrong. “Well, we left worse things behind.” They could only pray that it had been the pack who was responsible for this slaughter, instead of being on the receiving end.

Kubyenka kicked over some splinters covering the ground next to the carriage with the toe of his boot. “That must be this spark of God or whatever shit Žižka called it.”

Janosh stepped past him and made the sign of the cross, before he reached out to turn the priest around carefully. Blood was covering his whole neck like some pretty fur collar, a bolt had hit him right into the windpipe. “You think Hans miss?”

“Hans never misses. He's a better shot than me, even a better shot than the Devil was.”

“So someone else come and kill priest down?”

“Not only someone. You don't get ambushed by two different groups at the same time and place by mere accident.” He kicked the glass again, this time with more force, causing it to fly up high into the air and into the bushes on the side of the road. “Fuck!” They should have been here when this had happened. Would it have changed a thing? Who knew, with so many bodies lying around, armed men all of them, from what Kubyenka could tell. But at least they would have gone through this together. As the pack that they were!

“If only bald guy not hold us back.”

“Aye. That bald guy.” He made his way to the slope that the bodies covered like cobblestone covered a pathway. It had all gone according to plan so perfectly. They had come to Uzhitz early in the morning, had waited there for the priest to arrive, Janosh had even rejected some local woman for their cause. Around noon, the priest had showed up and settled in the inn for a few hours. They had watched the priest and his men carefully from a distance, just as Žižka had wanted them to. And then this bald guy had approached them. Had offered Kubyenka a game of dice and some beer, and fuck, he should have declined, but wouldn't that have only drawn attention to them? So he had agreed, played, won, and the bald guy had left for another round of beer, and he had handed it out both to Kubyenka and to Janosh. It had knocked them out as good as the kick of a horse. When Janosh had finally woken him with a slap to the face, the priest and his men were gone, and night had long fallen over the land.

Kubyenka kneeled down to take a closer look at another dead body. Only few pieces of armour, but a good sword in his hand. Had died of stab wounds, right into the thigh. Kubyenka grunted in frustration. “This doesn't make any sense. I get that all of this must have been a trap from the start, and that this bald guy played a role in it too. But for what reason? Sure, they killed the priest that was supposed to carry the tidings of joy to Prague for us, but is that all? And so much effort.” He looked up, counted the bodies. Four here on the slope, but there were more up there on the top of the hill he couldn't see from his position. “All these people … And where the fuck are our men?”

A rustling above, and the breaking of rotten wood. Kubyenka shot up to his feet. There was movement up there. At first he believed it must be one of the bodies that wasn't as dead as he had believed him to be, but then he saw that it was another man instead, hunched over the corpse like a feral dog. Pressing his own chest close to the dead one, as if he wanted to embrace it. No. He was hiding. Playing dead.

The man let out the panicked scream of a child as Kubyenka grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the corpse, only to throw him right back into the grass next to it. Before the man could even react, Kubyenka had drawn his knife, holding the blade to the other one's throat. He was a child, Kubyenka could see that now. A boy still gifted with the soft features of a girl, without a single hair on his chin. His youth hadn't stopped him from rummaging through the belongings of a dead man, though.

“What the hell happened here?”

The boy whined again, and tried to raise both his hands to show that he was unarmed, but from the way Kubyenka held him down, it remained a pathetic attempt. “Let go off me, and I will tell you everything you want to know!”

That little shit thought he could negotiate. In his position! Kubyenka let the blade dance across the boy's jaw, up to his ear, and watched him quiver with a proud smile. “How about I cut your ear off, and then you tell me everything I want to know while you beg me for mercy that I don't cut your other ear off as well?”

“Alright, alright! Please, do not harm me!” A little shit, yes, but a coward too. Perfect. This should be easy then. “My name is Štěpán of Tetín.”

“Oh, how good for you, but I did not ask you for your fucking name, sonny, I asked what happened here.”

“Well, I don't know either! I just arrived.” He nodded clumsily into the direction above his head, and when Kubyenka raised his eyes, he saw a grey, feeble horse with crooked legs gawking at him from the bushes.

Kubyenka used some more force on the knife, and the blade cut into the boy's flesh, drawing a single drop of blood from his white skin and a loud cry from his mouth. There were even tears in his eyes. Kubyenka paid it no attention. “Don't fuck with me, boy. When we came here, you were already digging through the corpses like a vulture.”

The boy lifted his head and peered down the hill, only now noticing Janosh, it seemed, who was still at the carriage looking for explanations he wouldn't find. When the boy stared back up to Kubyenka, his wet, walnut eyes had widened and his face had brightened up as if there wasn't still a man with a knife pushing him into the ground. “You … You are Kubyenka, aren't you?”

Damn him. He sounded just as excited as if he had just met the hero from one of the old wives' tales his nurse had sung him. “How do you know my name? Who told you?”

“A man named Lukas. He was one of the mercenaries who came with the priest. He said he had a long talk with you and the Hungarian in a tavern in Uzhitz.”

Kubyenka furrowed his brow in confusion. “Is he bald?”

“No?” A question, not an answer, but Kubyenka would take what he could get.

“Then we never talked to him.”

“But you are Kubyenka, aren't you?”

He whistled in annoyance through his teeth and turned the knife a little as a warning. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“No, listen. He knew your name! Kubyenka and the Hungarian, that's what he said!”

“Janosh,” Janosh proclaimed behind him. Apparently he, too, had realised that the carriage wouldn't hold anything of value for them, and had joined them on the hill instead.

The boy shrugged his shoulders, or tried to at least. “Well, he didn't seem to know your name.”

“Hm.”

“But he claimed that the priest talked to you in this tavern. And that you were the ones who convinced him of going by night.”

“No,” Kubyenka shook his head, “Schwarzfeld told him. We spoke to the priest just as little as we spoke to any of the mercenaries he had hired.”

The boy bit his bottom lip as he pondered. “No, Lukas didn't mention anyone by the name Schwarzfeld.”

“Interesting.” And it truly was interesting, became more interesting by the minute, but it also made his headache grow with every new piece of information, as if he hadn't been vexed by that enough ever since drinking that fucking beer the bald guy had brought them. “Did he talk about our men at least? Four men, two of them were dressed up as priests.”

“Yes, he talked about those priests! He said that they stopped them here in the middle of the road, and spoke of Hus and his preachings. And then they got ambushed. The priest was shot from up here, apparently, and his mercenaries got attacked by all these men.”

“But not our men. I don't know any of these people.”

“And we not here to kill anyone,” Janosh added. “Only wanted talk to priest.”

“It was a trick,” Kubyenka explained, wondering why he even bothered, but somehow he had taken a strange liking to this boy. “A magic trick, or at least that's what Žižka called it.”

“Žižka?” The boys eyes widened again. “Jan Žižka?”

“What is he to you?”

“Nothing. I mean, he's quite famous around these lands of course, but that's not it. I just got curious because Petr of Haugwitz mentioned him. A lot, in fact.”

“Who?”

“A knight that came to my guardian Sir Ondřej Duba of Zlenice a few months ago.” He stopped himself, thought for a while, then nodded as if he had just answered some question no one had even asked. “I think he knows you too.”

“Who does? This Haugwitz fella? I don't know anyone of that name.”

“No.” The boy laughed. “Neither do I.” Then he raised his hands all of a sudden and grabbed Kubyenka's arms, not to push him away, but to hold him, as his eyes widened again in excitement. The fear from before had vanished fully. “Listen, you need to come with me to Zlenice right now. We need to convince Sir Ondřej that this here had nothing to do with you or with Jan Hus and his followers. Because if we don't get there in time, he will send a letter to Prague, telling the archbishop that you were responsible for this massacre!”

“We're no followers of Hus, boy.”

“Even more of a reason to come with me then! Help me sort this out! For us and for yourself. Perhaps we can even find your friends this way.”

Kubyenka looked back to Janosh, who only shrugged his shoulders. Might as well give it a try.

“Fine.” He lifted the knife off the boy's throat by dragging it slowly across his skin as a warning. “I think I might like you enough to trust you. But if we find out that you're only playing us here, I'm gonna forget that liking very, very quickly. And then I'm gonna cut off more than just your ears.”

“I understand.” He swallowed nervously and still had the guts to beam like the star of Bethlehem.

Kubyenka shook his head in disbelief, before he finally got up, offering a hand to the boy to help him get to his feet as well. Then he glanced over at the old mare that grazed peacefully just a few steps away from them, as if the whole ground that surrounded her wasn't covered in stinking blood and rotting flesh. “Now I just hope that this Zlenice of yours isn't too far away. Because Janosh and me didn't bring any horses with us. And I doubt this nag of yours will be able to carry all three of us.” And if it is far, he added silently, then I will be the one to ride. Let Janosh and the boy run! He for one was getting far too old for this shit.

#kingdom come deliverance #kcd #kcd2 #kcd2 spoilers #kcd fanfiction #my writing #KCDsedproditionem #jan zizka needs a hug #hans capon and samuel need some rest #stepan of tetin needs to get the fuck out of there because that .. ahem .. white knight ... might not be fooling around much longer #the reupload as promised #the thing is i don't mind when this gets little traffic on ao3. it's a long story it's more of a historical socio-political novel with our #whole cast as changing protagonists instead of the classical hans / henry focused one-shot or whatever. it's a niche thing. and the #main reason i'm writing this is because this story is stuck in my head and needs to get out whether someone else wants to have it or not #but there are a few of you here that i know are interested in this story as well. and i really enjoy sharing it with you (you're basically #the reason this exists on here in the first place). so when none of you idiots even sees it well what's the point?#also if you ARE one of those idiot nerds that do enjoy this story and you don't want to miss out on future updates please let me know!#would love to tag you if you're interested in that but of course i wouldn't wanna do that without your consent

19 notes · View notes

mechazushi · 1 year ago

Text

Iharu's Day Out {co-staring Dadka} (A Kn8 short story)

Preamble] So I've got this idea for a series of {what was supposed to be short?! Don't know where all this came from} one-shots about Kaiju n.8 that are all about Kafka interacting with one member from the third Division because we only really see him talking to Reno or Hoshina most of the time and not a lot of the rest of the team gets much more screen time. I don't know how often I will be posting these and they will NOT be in chronological order. The time frame they will be taking place in is after everything is over (Number 9 is dead, Tachikawa base is rebuilt, the public knows about Kaiju n. 8, and the original members of Division Three are back together.)

Notes] Alcohol, implied off screen sex act, minor law breaking, pining IharuxReno, background HoshinaxKafka, implied HaruichixAoi, confession, basic tomfoolery, uncensored swearing.

Summary] Iharu's plans with Reno get derailed when Reno has to leave on a mission just before they have to leave. Depressed and dejected, Iharu heads back to the barracks to drown his sorrows in food... only to have that plan as well get derailed by Kafka.

#########################################

This was the third time in thirty minutes that Furuhashi had changed his outfit. Finally landing on white high tops, black camo jeans, a black leather jacket and a white graphic anime tee. He kept going back and forth on the tee, debating on whether or not it made him look like he was too childish. Iharu spent an extra minute mentally kicking himself for not bringing more casual clothes from home when the base got reopened. Then again, asking Reno out to a movie date was pretty spur of the moment at the time. He caught himself mid thought and placed his hands on either side of the closet that was designated to every member of the Division. "Not a date. Movie night-. It's... a movie night. This is to see if this could lead to a potential date. Yeah, just... focus on that right now."

Knocking him out of his thoughts was a very distinct ringtone. Iharu had spent a lot of time messing around in the settings on his phone and was very proud of himself when it came to the songs he picked for each member of the Third Division. Aoi was the theme song from Cops, Kikoru's was the Nightcore version of Pretty Little Psycho. The one that was playing now was Cold as Ice by Foreigner. A little on the nose, considering who it was attached to, but nonetheless fitting for person who he thought was the coolest guy on the force.

Reno☃] Hey. Can we talk?

Reno☃] Somethings come up.

############################################

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Iharu played Reno's response to this movie night plan over a week ago in his head over and over, taking his chilled and plain response and visualizing it as a bat to beat himself and this unfortunate event the two over them have gotten themselves into.

"Last minute dispatch to the mountains. Sorry Iharu." Reno had said, wanting to give him the bad news in person as he sat on a bench in a locker room and laced up his boots over his tech suit.

"Guess that means you'll be back late then, huh." Iharu leaned against a locker, arms folded and looking into the distance through the doorway. He didn't want Reno to see the disappointment. Not that seeing it would change the situation, just didn't want make Reno feel bad over the fact that, not only is he leaving Iharu behind, but he has to take a rain check on their date movie night- it was supposed to be a movie night, Iharu had to remind himself. He didn't feel like it was fair to take his crush/rival out on the town and call it something so loaded without seeing if the feeling would be returned.

"Yeah. Sorry." Reno picked up his bag and started to walk pass Iharu. "Movie will still be there tomorrow. Right?"

Iharu tried to school his expression into something more optimistic to mask his depression. " Yeah, but I'm in Weapons Training all day tomorrow. Maybe another movie?" He crunched the unnoticed prepaid ticket stubs in his fist and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. "Mind kicking their monster ass a little harder then normal. For me?" He didn't mean to come across as pleading as he said that, but it helped channel the last bit of resentment at the situation out of his head so now he can spend the rest of the allotted time off to sulk in his bunk.

Reno smiled and clasped a hand on Iharu's shoulder. "Sure thing."

Reno walked out of the locker room and headed toward the door that lead to the chopper pad that would whisk him away, as well as Iharu's plan for the three hours that he could squeeze out of Vice-Cap. All Iharu could do was watch as Reno lightly jogged away and feel as if he was doing that to get away from him faster. He knew that Reno liked him as a friend at least, but he felt that Reno could act a little less chill about being forcefully blown off a dinner and a movie. Iharu turned and started walking toward the canteen with the intention to take as much food and drink he could smuggle out to his bunk, make a Blanket Fort of Solitude*tm and attempt to stuff his dashed feeling under a quarter pound of katsudon, cheese puffs and soda popsicles-made in prison style.

Iharu was dragged from his thoughts by a loud, friendly, and familier voice. "OYE! Iharu! Wait a sec!"

Kafka Hibino came barreling down the hallway having turned a corner and apparently looking lost. The man was almost out of breath by the time he managed to catch up to Iharu. "Have you seen Reno around? I -huff- wanted to tell him safe travels before he -huff- left."

"He's heading down to the heli-pad now. Book it and you might catch him." Iharu said apathetically, scratching his neck. Which was really out of character for him, but he couldn't help hoping that was the end of the conversation, seeing that he just wanted to spend his three hours of time off drowning in food.

"Great! Thanks! Hey, you headed to the canteen?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Give me a minute and I'll meet you there. Want to talk to you about something." Kafka took off running in the direction that Iharu pointed in before Iharu could refuse. He sighed deeply and started his way back to a journey to food-comaville; population one.

Iharu made it during a lull in orders and took his time deciding what to pig out on. He walked over to a seat at a table that was as far as he could make it from the others in the large and sparsely populated room. He managed to plow through 4 chicken kievs and a large bowl of rice with a coke before Kafka managed to walk into the lunchroom. He searched for a bit, found Iharu and started to walk to him... before deciding better and grabbed a Hamburg steak meal and then headed over.

"Well, I didn't get to tell him goodbye, but he did get to see me waving from the platform, so there's that. I feel better." Kafka sat down next to Iharu and assembled his steak to his preference.

"I'm glad." Iharu said sarcastically, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Your attitude, actually." Kafka said, then took a big bite of smothered chopped steak. Iharu partially choked mid-sip, Quickly recovering to stare down the senior with barely concealed audacity. Kafka saw and chuckled a bit around the food in his mouth.

"Nothing serious! Saw you were looking a little down in the dumps when I talked to ya. Just wanted to check in, make sure its nothing pressing, though I'll understand if you're not open for conversation at the moment."

"What are you, a counselor?" Iharu said defiantly. Kafka put his hands up in surrender before diving back into his meal.

"Say the word and I'll leave. If its not anything Reno said, I'll leave you to your moping."

Hearing Reno's name and the implication that he might of said something caused Iharu to curl up slightly, not bothering to hide the change in expression that very much told Kafka that Reno definitely said something. The pinkette paused for a minute before responding "What makes you think he did?"

Kafka smiled a warm, knowing smile, put down his fork, and swallowed. "Because I know Reno. He is extremely chill most of the time, but sometimes he can't tell that his coolness... can unintentionally burn others. Especially when you don't tell him outright." He turned to a slumped Iharu before continuing, " He told me that you two were going to watch a movie together tonight, right? He seemed excited about it.... in his own little way."

Iharu pushed his food away from him and dug his face in his crossed arms. 'Of course Reno would tell the division's Father Figure.' In admitting defeat, Iharu sighed and turned his head to face the half kaiju man.

"It wasn't just going to be a movie. There was going to be food too. There's a food stall festival a block from the movie theater that was selling some really good smelling food and it was the last day for it to be around and I had thought maybe we could take a shortcut through that really pretty shrine afterword- the one that lights up all those paper lanterns when sunset hits- and I had planned to pay for all the food and there was going to be gifts a-a-and-" He sat up to dig up the crumpled ticket stubs from his pockets and rudely threw them on the table, "And I had even PREPAID THE TICKETS AND.....haa. I just...... I wanted a nice evening with him. I knew three hours were rushing things but it was all Hoshina could let us take today."

Kafka picked up the stubs and straighten them out with the edge of the table. "And it absolutely would of been had it not been for a sudden arrival of 5.6 mole kaijus, huh." Iharu tucked his head back into his arms.

"Yeah, fucking mole kaiju. The least they could do was let me come with, but noooo! Everyone seems to think that I'm only relevant to Reno if he's wearing his stupid super suit."

'"If it makes you feel better. Reno likes having you around inside and outside the suit. Definitely enjoys the push-n-pull thing you two have going on." Iharu haphazardly wiped his nose on his leave as he looked to Kafka again.

"Doesn't matter anymore though, does it. He's not here and there's no sense going to the theater with two tickets and only showing up by yourself." Kafka scratched his ever present 5'o-clock shadow as he contemplated for a moment.

"Could ask around. I'm pretty sure Aoi hasn't taken any hours off in a while. Or maybe Shinomiya? She might be into cowboys verses bio-mech-monsters." Iharu tilted his head up hearing Kafka describe the movie.

"You've seen Ranger Rika against the Metal Mess of South Bend?"

"Just the trailers for it. Tokusatsu style, right? Watched a bunch of those as a kid. Somehow managed to pirate a few movies onto a mp.3 player when I was younger. Got me through a lot of bunker-hunkering in my middle school years."

Iharu laughed, "An mp.3 player? God you are old. And when was sitting in a kaiju shelter called 'Bunker-hunkering'?" Kafka reached over and playfully shook the younger compatriot by his shoulders.

"MP.3S ARE NOT THAT OLD! MINE STILL WORKS AND I STILL USE IT, YOU ASSHAT!" Hearing this only caused both of them to split themselves into fits of laughter. A moment later Kafka was lightly hugging Iharu and trying (and failing) to slow his heart and breathing while Iharu was wiping away tears and giggling. The shark-toothed teen looked up at the division's adopted father figure contemplatively.

"Ya know.... why don't you come with me." Kafka looked a little taken aback at that offer.

"Really? With me? I mean, I'm not going to turn down a free movie. Just thought that you young folk would rather run around with... well, people of similar age." Iharu started laughing again.

"What, so you finally decided you're old now?"

"Well, there's no hiding the fact that I'm damn near forty." Kafka said as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you're cool and forty. Which is like, guaranteed cool. And you're probably the only person here that would enjoy a movie of this explosive caliber." Iharu got up from his seat and picked up the tickets, offering one to Kafka. He smiled massively and pushed the offering had back toward Iharu.

"Hold on to them for now. I gotta talk to Hoshina about taking some hours away from base first. Tell you what, grab a bag of snacks to take in and I'll meet you by the garage."

"Bag of snacks? Ya know the theater sells them there, right?" Furuhashi said walking side by side with Hibino as they wandered back into the hallway.

"Excuse you, but I have been raised on the philosophy that you never buy theater snacks when you can sneak in your own. The theft of it all makes them taste better." Kafka winked as the two of them parted ways. "Should only take a minute or two. Text when you hit the garage!"

############################################

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?" Kafka said calmly as he adopted a wide defensive stance against is superior.

"I get you can be simple some days, but even you should know what that word means." replied Soshiro Hoshina, the vice captain of the Third Division. The man carefully put down the log book that contained the recorded hours of all enlisted that each individual was allotted to spend.

"What I mean is, do you mean no as in 'You still have chores or training left', or no as in 'I can't afford to have you leave base today'." Kafka breathed slowly through his nose in irritation as he emphasized each scenario.

"No as in 'You have no hours left to spend.' You used them all." Hoshina turned the catalog to face Kafka as the burly man planted his hands on the desk. All he could do was sigh at his unforeseen short comings.

"Honestly, I wanna talk to whoever came up with the policy that cut half of our vacation days and replaced them with this 'Payable Recreational Hours' bullshit. You seriously can't fudge the rules even a little bit?"

"Trust me Kafka, I wasn't the one who opted for that either. And as Vice Captain and currently the highest ranking on base, 'Fudging the rules' as you put it, would be a terrible move and give me a soft reputation. So, no."

Kafka shrunk his appearance and pulled out his big doe eyes to aid in his pleading. "But this is important! Hoshina, please. Its not even about me, this is for Iharu's sake."

Hoshina's interest piqued exasperatedly upon hearing that. "Oh? And pray tell, what could be so pressing that you have to emergency call off three hours for?" Kafka started to sense that this was the first slip into a bad situation and immediately back peddled.

"If it helps, I guess I could get away with an hour and a half?" he shrugged.

"So what was the other two and a half hours going to be spent on?" Hoshina said, leaning back in his office chair and crossing his arms.

Kafka knew he couldn't lie to someone so close to him, especially when that person was adept at seeing through his lies specifically. "Just, uh... food and... travel?"

This isn't helped by the fact the man can't even get away with half truths in the first place. Hoshina leaned his elbows on the desk as he stared down menacingly at the resident Kaiju Man.

"Kafka. The whole truth now, and I'll let you off with janitorial duty for a week." All Kafka could do was unclench his body and accept defeat.

"Ok. Iharu had prepaid some movie tickets to a Ranger Rika film and we both felt it would be a waste not to use them and the plan had involved a food stall festival and Reno was supposed to be there-!" Upon remembering what Iharu's initial plan was, Kafka was struck with an idea. "Hey that could work."

'What" Hoshina said in a clearly vexed manner.

"Why not give me Reno's hours? They both called off right? And since he had to leave, doesn't that technically mean that there's hours left on the table?" Kafka's brilliant smile was quickly diminishing as his superior kept staring a hole through his skull.

"First off, that's rude." Hoshina said holding up a hand to count on, "Second, that's got to be a violation somewhere. And Three, even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't allow it."

"What, you want me to see if Iharu will hand both the tickets over and we both go?" Hoshina just pinched his nose bridge at that and sighed.

"No, Kafka. I'm irritated that you're trying to weasel your way into blowing off duty for street food and movie tickets."

"But they're prepaid movie tickets!" Kafka sighed. He could only hang his head in despair as he could see his impromptu plans slipping away from him. "Is there nothing that could change your mind?"

"No. Not when I'm this irritated." Hoshina said as he went back to crossing his arms.

'Irritated, huh?' Kafka rolled his partner's choice of words in his head, before coming up with a horrible idea and using it to fuel a devilish course of action.

"Well, then. I guess I'll just have to break out the big gun." Kafka whispered as he smirked. He rounded Hoshina's sturdy desk, a fact the two of them had certainly proved time and time again, and now Kafka was going to have to certify that statement one more time, it seems.

"Kafka?" Hoshina questioned as his work buddy visible stopped acting like his associate and donned his more... submissive side. Starting with turning the chair to face him, Kafka got down on his knees in front of his commanding officer and slowly slid a hand under the left pant leg to lightly tease his superior's ankle.

"Guess i'll have to help with that irritation before I leave, won't I?" Hibino said, still wearing a cocky, lopsided grin as he brought the other hand just under Hoshina's knee.

'Kafka, no." Hoshina gritted out, bringing his hands to the arm rests and firmly gripped them.

"Kafka, yes." replied the kneeling man as he kissed his secret lover's knee.

"Kafka, if you think I'm going to give you your requested hour and a half-"

"Three hours."

"You're not going to get any hours if you keep this up."

"Come on. We both know that's not true, Soshiro." Kafka said, looking up from his kiss to the knee and molding his throat into his other voice. The one where he isolates a partial transformation around his vocal cords, adding a low growl to his already bass tone. Taking extra care with using Hoshina's first name, Kafka leaned forward and caressed his cheek against the side of Soshiro's inner thigh, letting in a wicked light in behind his glossy eyes.

"We both know I get what I want if I work hard enough for it."

Kafka began to tease the inside of Soshiro's thighs, littering them with light and slow kisses. Switching back and forth between the two, inching close, but not close enough. Hoshina felt rooted to the seat, pinned down by this tormenting display. All he could do was reach over and place a hand in Kafka's surprisingly soft tufts of hair. He carded it through a little before gripping it. Not enough to hurt, but definitely attention getting. Kafka let out a hot puff of air against his commander's hip, reveling in the feeling of Soshiro's short nails digging into his tough scalp.

"Give me a good performance, and we'll discuss what I'll let you get away with." Hoshina said, mentally kicking himself for not training his pet to be on a shorter leash.

############################################

"Come onnn. Where is he?" Iharu whined, shifting one strap of the back pack off one shoulder to the other as he was on his way to Hoshina's office. "How long does it take to call off a few hours?"

Furuhashi had made it to the door of the office just in time to see Hibino walk out in an entirely different outfit than the work jumpsuit he was in earlier.

"You know, with that much work, I should get a thank you as a courtesy!" Kafka said with the biggest shit eating grin one could have on their face. This statement was quickly followed with him slamming the door closed before he could be hit with whatever Hoshina tried to throw at him. All Kafka could do in response was giggle uncontrollably before stopping in his tracks at Iharu's sudden appearance.

"When did you get here?"

"I sent you a text that I was at the garage and you didn't respond. I waited, like, 9 minutes before I wondered where you were and now I just have more questions. Like, did you change in Hoshina's office? Why was he throwing shit at you? Thank you for what?" Kafka's face got visible red as he tried to find a way to change the subject and instead, opted to grab Iharu's upper arm and drag him harshly back toward the direction the garage was in.

"Ask no questions, and I'll tell no lies. Better news, I just got us a lot more than three hours."

"Can I ask HOW?"

"Maybe later. Got the snacks?" Iharu wrenched his arm out of Kafka's grasp to slip the simple, black, mini back pack off his shoulders to show the contents to his impromptu partner for the night.

"Yeah, got some drinks too. Had to break into Kikoru locker to get a less conspicuous bag to put them in, though."

"Good idea. You know where the theater is?" Kafka said, picking up the pace a little more the closer they got to the getaway vehicles. Iharu had no problem matching his pace, but was getting increasingly worried as to why they were acting like they were in a hurry. The movie didn't start for another forty five minutes.

"Yes, its close by so I don't know whY weRE RUNNING?"

"Cause not only do I want to catch the pre-showing, we really, really should leave before Hoshina saw what I put down in the time log sheet."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" HIbino got to the heavy security door and opened the entry to the covered garage where most members of the defense force kept their personal vehicles.

"Nothing I'm going to regret later. Here, take this." He said as Iharu walked through the door and tossed him a suspicious set of keys. Iharu caught them and examined them quickly.

"Are these... Hoshina's keys? The one to his supercharged bike? You know I have my own bike, right?"

"Yeah, but when you think about it, his bike's bigger and I can't drive one, so I'm going to have to ride pillion. And trust me, you're going to want that extra bit of room."

As the two of them jogged to the Vice Captain's super bike, all Iharu could think that this wasn't going to be a simple movie night anymore.

###########################################

The two of them had made it into the theater with plenty of time to spare and minimal suspicion. They turned in their stubs and walked inside the air conditioned room that was showing the Ranger Rika film. There, Kafka was met with a surprise.

"Holy shit! You prepaid seats to a show that had in-house recliners?" Kafka walked by in awe and they made their way to one of the seats closer to the front. "Surprised you didn't pick seats closer to the back. Kinda bougie place to bring 'just a friend' don't ya think?" Kafka winked at Iharu as they settled down into their reserved seats.

"I don't ever want to hear the word bougie out of your mouth ever again. And I felt like paying extra for the reclining seats, that ok with you?" Iharu said defensively.

"Fine, fine. Just wondering why you felt the need to score brownie points with Reno, is all. He'd be happy just getting off base with you, being an easy guy like that." Kafka started to root around in Iharu's stolen bag for the drinks he mentioned earlier.

"This isn't point scoring! I just... I wanted to- what I'm trying to say is... give me that." The furious looking teen grabbed the glass coke bottle out of the older man's offering hand. Kafka looked on warmly at Iharu, piecing together some dots in his head. Not enough to make a solid conclusion, but his previous levels of mopiness started to make sense. Hibino brought the sealed bottle to his mouth and cracked the metal pop top off with his teeth.

"You know that they make these twist off now, right? That has to fuck up your teeth something awful." Iharu stated as he began to twist off his own bottle before the movie really started. At least he was trying to, and apparently failing miserably due to the sharp edges on the bottle cap digging into his hands uncomfortably. Kafka took the bottle from his hands and proceeded to open the bottle like he did before and handed it back.

"Again, I am not that old. Don't ruin my one piece of happiness in my life."

"Opening bottles... with your teeth?" Iharu replied, pushing the button that reclined the seat back and brought the foot rest up.

"Old habit from childhood that I've managed to keep because Monster Sweepers has a surprisingly great dental plan. Now hush, previews are starting." Kafka said as the lights began to dim in the room.

############################################

"Holy shit! That movie was amazing!" Iharu said as they left the theater doors and landed on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, that was a great movie. Was a lot more emotional then I was expecting." Kafka mentioned as he squatted low and stretched a leg out to the side.

"You weren't kidding! That plot twist that Missy Whisky was a plant based robo-zoid horse and the scene where she was dying and her body fueled a new oasis got me actually crying! I never cry!" Kafka could only look up at Iharu incredulously, knowing that the younger soldier cried at anything involving animals; sometimes even about Kaijus.

"I think my favorite shot of the whole thing was at the end when Ranger Rika was in a lawn chair with a beer, sitting in that new oasis and we get to see that Missy Whisky was ok, she was just a metal skeleton now." Kafka said as he stood back up and stretched his back.

"Yeah, he deserved that beer, honestly. My favorite scene was when Rika had to jerry rig a new leg and ended up making that burst shot rocket leg. When I heard Golem explain the concept, I thought it sounded so stupid! Whats the point in putting a rocket in your leg if it can only fire off in short burst? Then it trails into the scene in the canyon where he has to fight the Centa-Snake and he was keeping up on foot! Certified Ultimate Badass moment this year!" Iharu started to walk away, following the flow of the crowd so as to not interrupt it too much. Spurring Kafka to hurry up and follow him as well. The two of them walked far enough down the street to where they could walk side by side more comfortably.

As they walked farther away from the theater, it became clear that Iharu was still basking in the warm afterglow of a good memory made. He was still chattering about all the details of the movie, even going into the depths of character analysis and how it showed through in the clothing the characters were wearing. It was very clear he was dying to watch this someone as his mouth seemed to be going a mile a minute with no signs of stopping. Kafka kept up as best he could with the conversation, adding what he could to the conversation. If he was being honest though, he didn't really see as much in the movie as Iharu apparently did. It seemed Iharu noticed as well as he started to slow down his talking speed, becoming more quiet as they went along.

"You good?" Kafka said, noticing the small, slight drop in demeanor.

"Yeah, Im...I'll be fine. I think. I got to see the movie today, which is what I wanted." Iharu stated, visible not looking as fine as he tried to say he was. It was clear to Kafka that it wasn't the possibility that Iharu might of not watched the movie that got him feeling down. I seemed that he still couldn't get Reno not being here off his mind. Kafka felt it was a bit early to press the matter, seeing they got out of a good movie and didn't feel like spoiling the once good mood with questions, so he decided to try and redirect Iharu's train of thought to something more pressing.

"We are walking in the right direction for the festival, right?" Iharu looked up at the older man, redirection of thoughts successful.

"Oh yeah, Food! That was a thing wasn't it? Uhhh...." Iharu said, stopping to process their current location. "Yeah, one more block and a right and we should be there."

"I remember that you said you found it because you... smelled it?" Kafka said quizzically.

"Oh, yeah. There was an attack early last week two streets down and I wanted to stop by when I smelled it. Couldn't though, had to check for yoju then head back to base for a report. Couldn't leave for a week and started feeling desperate. It smells really good-!" Iharu stopped dead in his tracks, looking straight across the street.

"What? Is everything Ok?" Kafka said, looking around before landing his eyes at whatever Iharu was looking at. Across the street, in a store window, sat a rack holding a cluster of very unusual looking hats.

"Cowboy hats. Can you believe it?" Iharu said, looking absolutely puzzled as to why they were there. Taking a longer look, the window belonged to what appeared to be a restaurant dedicated to American cuisine. Specifically western style - steaks and big burgers. it looked like the restaurant had conjoined with a kitschy souvenir store. Kafka thought hard for a minute before turning back to Iharu.

"You wanna?" Kafka asked, jabbing a thumb to the store front. Furuhashi looked back with a clearly confused look. "Come on, we just got out of a Cowboy movie. Isn't it customary to get a least one in honor of a good movie?" Kafka playfully punched Iharu in the shoulder as Iharu just shook his head before he responded.

"I have never heard that ever, and I'm a fan of all the Ranger Rika films."

"All I'm hearing is you've got some hat buying to catch up on." Kafka said, committing an act of jaywalking to drag his new friend over to the store.

"We don't need to buy a cowboy hat!" Iharu protested as they hit the sidewalk.

"Fine. Then I'm getting one without you." Kafka retaliated, hand on the store handle.

"OH, no. If I leave you alone in here, you're going to buy me one in a stupid color. Like blue or green." Iharu said, walking into the store before Kafka.

"But I thought you said you didn't want one?" the Half-Kaiju said, throwing a pointed smirk at Iharu.

"I just said I don't trust you, therefore I have to buy one to make sure you don't buy one for me." the pinkette said defiently, studying the hats on the rack. Kafka just chuckled quietly behind him and soon joined him at the rack too, but not before ordering a side of steak fries to go.

Minutes later, the two of them left the store with hats and fries in hand. Kafka bought a black one with a braided rawhide band threaded with turquoise beads and Iharu's was a simple white stetson.

"Kinda surprised you didn't get the pink one." Kafka said, placing his hat on his head.

"I thought about it, but I mean... pink on pink? It might be a bit much." Iharu said, gesturing to his hair. "That and I thought that white hats just looked cooler anyway."

"This decision totally isn't related to Ranger Rika and his outfit design at all, right?" Kafka said, dripping with sarcasm and Iharu fiddled with the chin strap on the stetson.

"Pfft, Of course not! Why would you say such a thing?" Iharu said through a choked chuckle as his ears got a noticeable shade pinker.

###########################################

Short walk later, they had made it to the start of the street where the festival was held. Both sides of a seemingly endless boulevard was lined with lanterns, ramshackle food stalls, and carnival games. The lights gave the whole street the warmest inviting glow that paired with the slowly setting sun and the scent from the cooking food made the entrance all the more enticing. Adding on the visual ebb and flow of the crowd flittering between the brightly advertised stalls truly made the scene before them come alive. All that was needed to become one with the crowd was as simple as stepping inside and it would feel like a whole different reality. Before the duo could, Kafka decided to take a look at the parked sign at the beginning of the boulevard.

"Hey, did you know about this?" Kafka pointed at the sign.

"No. What's it say?"

"It says that the food festival is in collaboration with the local bars on this street. Beer and cocktails are half off." Iharu whistled approvingly at the news.

"God, a beer sound wonderful right now. Haven't had any since Hoshina trashed my stash in the vent." Kafka said, groaning at the distant textural memory of the cool, aggressive liquid sliding down his throat.

"I don't know man. We still gotta head back to work in a couple of hours. Getting drunk tonight that worth it?" Iharu questioned. Kafka choked on his own spit in a suspicious manner for a minute at hearing how long they had left on the outside.

"Speaking of which..." Furuhashi began to eye the old man intensely now, "How many hours did you get out of Vice-Cap?" Kafka made an attempt to clear his throat before answering.

"Yeah, about that...I, uhhh...didn't have any hours left."

"HIBINO."

"Honestly, the whole payable hours thing sounds stupid anyway so when Hoshina wasn't looking I... wrote in our own hours?" Kafka shrugged at a very red Iharu.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'OUR'? HOW MANY?"

"Three... hundred and thirty six." Kafka said quietly. When Iharu didn't respond back, Kafka felt the need to explain himself.

"I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY! 336 hours equal out to two weeks so I thought it be like an 'I'm quitting' joke. Ya'know, in retaliation of the stupid new hours rule? Vice Captain wasn't giving me any wiggle room here and you said you were coming to a food festival with Reno and two hours for a food festival is not a lot of time, especially if you want to do it right, and now there's possible booze involved which is another two on top of that and I just think that only getting three hours to spend away from base isn't a lot of time and you really looked disappointed at not being able to go- albeit the original plan involved Reno- but I mean we're here now and..."

Kafka could only sigh at his now clearly flawed line of thought as Iharu put his face in his hands. One one hand, Iharu agreed with him. Three hours wasn't a lot of time and he also hated the new hours ruling. But that short amount of time would of been worth it because he would of been with Reno. But now... Reno wasn't here. He was with Kakfa, a close member of the team that was trying his best to look out for him and cheer him up in light of the disastrous change in his plans. Iharu was here now, without Reno, and was still enjoying himself despite himself. The whole reason for coming was because of Reno, but here he was anyway; feeling guilty because he was having fun without Reno, knowing this was to be for him. Iharu wasn't really angry about the hours that Kafka had managed to cheat out of Vice-Cap. He knew he was going to pay for them as soon as Kafka got involved on this little outing. It just didn't feel right, him about to be having fun with someone who wasn't supposed to be here.

Kafka clasped a gentile hand of Iharu's shoulder.

"Hey. If you're not comfortable with this, we can just grab one or two things and head back early. You can tell him about the prepaid tickets and bring him back a snack. I'm sure he'd appreciate it after fighting in the mountains all afternoon." The older man smiled comfortably down at the distressed teen.

There he went again. The Dad of Division Three. He really knew just how others felt sometimes. Just when it didn't conflict with the mans's own feelings, that is. Kafka could tell that he was stressed about staying here too long and having fun without the one he wanted to be here with, so now he's trying to accommodate by telling him they could leave and bring back a gift that Reno couldn't help but like. Iharu wanted to come here with Reno... but he was here with Kafka. The happiest, most understanding, and most uplifting person to be around. Especially when you're upset, just like he is right now. And you know what, Kafka is here. With him. Right now. He got Iharu to the movies and spared him a day of sulking around the barracks getting fat and feeling sorry for himself. And that should be rewarded.

"You know what? Fuck it. I'm game." Furuhashi said, dropping his hands from his face.

"About what?"

"Getting drunk. I was going to stuff my face with cafeteria food earlier, and now I get to stuff my face with fried street food and alcohol. Honestly? Upgrade."

"Wait a minute? Are you sure about this? I mean, its not like those hours actually count or anything." Kafka said, reeling slightly from Iharu's change in demeanor.

"Hey man, you're the one who wrote in two weeks of hours, and I'm going to use them. Unless someone from base comes down here and carries my plastered ass off the sidewalk, I don't plan on leaving. Besides, didn't you say there's a right way to food festival? Maybe I'd like to know the secret too. Ya' know, for next time." Iharu stared into the sunset over the festival, feeling empowered about his newfound dereliction of duty.

He was upset. About the time constraints, about a lack of Reno in his presence, about not being able to tell him how he felt in a way he had been planning for about a week now, and about a dozen other minor things that had gotten under his skin recently.

None of that matters now. He was here. In good company. And with access to cheap booze. And may the Gods themselves strike him down now, because he wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste.

Kafka approved this new feeling welling up inside new drinking buddy and sealed the deal by lifting Iharu's hat off his back where it was hanging and placed it on his head. Making his voice gravely and southern, Kafka quoted a line from the movie.

"So... You finally decided to take charge of your own fortune, aye Rika?" Feeling the new weight on his head, Iharu turned to look up at Kafka and saw the brightest, toothiest, most genuine grin he thought that man could fit on his face. Iharu's eyes started to gather tears in accepted pride, but he blinked them away harshly and looked back at Kafka, matching his Kaiju smile with an aggressively mischievous one of his own.

"First things first. Nearest 7/11 location." Kafka said, turning toward the closest convenience store he could see.

"O-Ok? Why?" Iharu questioned, but followed Kafka's lead anyway.

"They carry this wonderful little drink that prevents hangovers. Fantastic shit, truly. Take it from a guy who use to party with a group of people who went on pub crawls every time someone had a birthday, hangovers do not need to be experienced more than necessary." Iharu's eyes lit up at hearing this.

"oh man! You have to have some crazy stories from your college days."

"College? You seriously think I had the attention span to make it in that kind of setting? This was from working in Monster Sweepers. Let me tell you, Tokuda; guy I used to work with, couldn't let go of a scotch bottle to save his life. Which is funny because having one on him is what saved another guy I worked with..."

#########################################

"And that's how my second boss ended up eating his own ring finger, wedding band and all." Kafka said as Iharu finished up the last of a batch of heavily sauced, fried chili shrimp.

"Damn, I didn't know you guys caught so many strays on the job site. Ya'll really need a security detail while you're working or something."

"Yeah, it can get to be a bit much some days. I actually proposed a deal to Haruichi that asked if his dad's company could come up with some Kaiju-fiber t-shirts or arm sleeves. Just *burp* something cheap they could throw together from scraps to help out my old buddies on the job site. Just a little protection or a way to finish the job faster so we're not working so long."

Kafka finished up a can of beer as Iharu checked a notification on his phone. They were leaning against the base of one of the few stone building that were on the street. The two of them had already hit up several food stalls and three bars in between. Currently they were standing off to the right of an ally that led to the last one they were in, having left to get some fresh air.

"Don't see a reason why they couldn't? It's more money for them, isn't it? Hey! it finally downloaded." Iharu said, propping up his phone on a jutted window ledge.

"What did?"

"I downloaded that song that played during the saloon walkabout scene. I thought we could maybe make a TokTic with it." Kafka tossed his empty into a trash can before turning to Iharu.

"TokTic? Oh! Those short video things. Shinomiya is always sending me those. Her attempt to 'Keep me from falling back to the Stone Age'. Prissy brat. Love her! Just... so damn rude some days."

"Well, now here's your chance to show her that you can be relevant." Iharu chuckled, "Alright, here's what I was thinking."

Iharu began to lead Kafka through some easy dance steps and dictated which pattern this was supposed to happen. They ran through the process a few times so Kafka was sure he could do it, even though Iharu reassured him that it doesn't have to be perfect. Iharu pressed record and they started doing a intensely cowboy inspired, feet shuffling based choreography to 'No Diggity' by Blackstreet with their new hats on full display.

They wrapped it up with them moonwalking off screen. Furuhashi then quickly ran back to grab the phone. They ducked back into the ally to get out of the way of the rippling crowd as the phone's owner began messing with the video's settings and cropped the beginning and end to make it feel cleaner. Hibino whistled as he looked over Iharu's shoulder as his fingers flew over the screen with what seemed to be practiced efficiency.

"You've made a few of these?" Kafka asked.

"Yeah.", Iharu said sheepishly, "I had this account back when I was in Subjugation School. It kinda started as something I messed with in my down time between classes, making edits of shows and movies I was really into at the time, and then it just sorta turned into a daily routine showcase-turned-ask blog. Soon after it started to pick up followers, especially after I got to join Division Three." He began to show one of his latest edits that he made to Kafka.

"Wow! I have to admit, but the editing seems really smooth. I can see a lot of thought went into this." Kafka said as he took a brief overview of the collection that Iharu had made over the years. Furuhashi looked away bashfully as his face turned as pink as his hair.

"It really is just a hobby at this point. Most of my followers seem to just enjoy the daily blog stuff more. But, to be honest, I always told myself that if, for some reason, I didn't make it in the Defense Force I... might have pursued a career as a film director." Kafka slung his arm over Iharu's shoulder and drew him in close.

"Now that, I would have definitely paid... to... see." He stepped back to look at his surroundings, taking in the view of the ebbing crowd and sensing a disturbing lack of panic and chaos. But... why would there be? There was nothing to be afraid.... oh.

Oh Shit. There it was.

Kafka got a familiar sinking feeling deep in his gut. Like a cold wave of heavy mist and dry ice was dropped into his stomach. He started whipping his head around, trying to see if he could place the direction in which the dangerous disturbance could be coming from.

"Iharu! Eyes up! Trouble incoming." The teen flashed a worried look toward Kafka as he hurriedly put his phone away.

"Kaiju attack? Here?"

"Yeah, a honju. Small one though, it feels like. To close for comfort, though. Get the alert out!" Kafka ran to one of the food stalls next to them and grabbed a megaphone out of a hawker's hands

"EVERYONE! IMMINENT KAIJU ATTACK! START HEADING TO THE SHELTERS!"

Some people started to gather up their stuff while others only looked on in disbelief, thinking he was some drunk prankster, until a small earthquake rattled the street and stalls. Everyone began to feel the threat approaching with the sound of distant buildings crashing over the sudden wailing of the alert system through speakers and phones alike. The people started sprinting toward the nearest shelter, with Kafka and Iharu helping the stragglers and the fallen catch up to the rest. Once it seemed like a majority had made it off this particular street and others, too scared shitless to move, had been relegated to closer, save enough zones like basements and reinforced closets, did Kafka start running toward the source of the disaster. Iharu, not far behind, ran after him.

"Sir! Do you think we should be heading toward this? Its not like we could be of much help without gear."

"Kinda figured we'd look at it and go from there? Least I could do is break it down visually and have you relay the information." Kafka started to summon some of his Kaiju bio-works through his system, calling forth faster speed and inhuman claws, and used them to get to higher elevation. As the cryptid soldier began to race across rooftops, Iharu mentally broke down the things that he could help with, starting with field reconnaissance and path prediction.

##########################################

Even without the suit, Iharu was keeping up with with a supped-up Kafka. It helped that he was trying to gain more height than speed to better survey the land and find the cause of danger. Once he found a sign of the monstrous disturbance, Kafka began giving directionals down to Iharu. As the man on the ground, he took it upon himself to keep track how they were moving between the three of them, figured a possible heading, and started to send directions back to Kafka in an attempt to head whatever this was off at a pass. So far, they hadn't hit any major damaged areas yet, so Iharu wasn't too focused on checking for possible trapped survivors.

Thanks to Kafka's sight and Iharu's planning, the two of them had made it to the location of the honju. Bursting through a broken and slanted ally way, Iharu had caught sight of the beast first. It was cephalopod based, resembling a mix between a squid or an octopus, crossed with an armored spider. Its' head was blue and bulbous, with a thin, wide, white ribbon running the diameter of its rounded top. It had four darker blue tentacles, each ending in a triangular nub covered in wicked spiked suckers, and another eight acting as its legs. All of them covered in what looked like black, striped,and jointed keratin plating and all of them ending in squishy tarantula paws. It was big, about a family-of-four house sized, tall as well as wide, and it was pissed.

"You don't think it smelled all the fried seafood and wanted revenge, do you think?" Kafka leaped down from a shattered rooftop and landed close to Iharu. The younger one grabbed the senior's wrist and dragged them both behind some cover before the honju saw them.

"Well, you said you wanted to break it down. Now's your chance." Iharu hissed quietly.

The aquatic beast lumbered forward, bellowing a watery warble as it bashed its tentacles against the building to its left. Kafka braced his back against the large piece of broken wall and shimmied upwards slowly in an attempt to gain a better look without breaking cover. He began to mentally run through a back catalog of information about Honju and Yoju, both from personal experience and from research on his down time, and came up with very little. But what he did come up with could still be very useful.

"Ok, here's the deal. Both Honju and Yoju can have aquatic forms and when they do, they stick unusually close to the original anatomy of their more normal counterparts."

"And how is that helpful?" Iharu whispered harshly as he stayed close to the ground in a crouched position.

"I'm getting there, hold on. From what it looks like, this bastard is sticking pretty close to something from the squid family. Which means it would be a safe bet that its core is somewhere close to the surface of the body, situated around the junction between the trunk and its head, and under a thick backbone made of cartilage."

"Alright, i'll tell everyone to aim for the.... neck I guess?" Iharu began to pull out his phone, but Kafka shooed it down to dismiss the idea.

"Here's the thing. You can actually kill a normal squid really easily by hitting it right at that junction. And I mean like one hard smack kinda deal." Kafka slid down the cover to better demonstrate with his hands to his partner.

"Yes, this has been established." Iharu sounded exasperated, almost desperate too as the beast trudged on by.

"I have a really bad idea." Kafka looked Iharu dead in the eyes with as much seriousness as he could. All Iharu could do was send a look of disbelief right back.

"Whatever it is, no."

"Ok, but if I'm right, the Defense force doesn't even need to show up because we'll be done already."

"HOW, may I ask? We don't even have any weapons." Iharu was becoming flabbergasted now, slowly debating to stop bothering with discrepancy.

"Ah, but you forget, I'm a living weapon. I don't even need a full transformation. Just make sure it doesn't turn around for a second while I grab a lamp post and get to higher ground." Iharu just groaned into his hands while Kafka turned and ran to find a suitable post, preferably one already uprooted.

Minutes later, Kafka had managed to fine a suitable improvised weapon to attack with and was trying his best to lug it over quietly. Iharu was still hiding behind the original piece of cover, watching his battle buddy struggle while keeping an eye on the yoju, making sure it hadn't been alerted to Kafka's presence. Kafka was on the other side of the street, opposite to Iharu's position and had much more cover to work with since that was the side the monster seemed to be taking its aggression out on. However, this came with its own set of problems as Kafka kept knocking the lamp post on what seemed to be every obstacle imaginable. Causing Iharu to flinch and indirectly slowing the beasts progression as it kept picking up on Kafka's poor attempt at stealth. After Kafka had managed to bang the bottom of the post against an unseen rock and cause the honju to turn around and face his general direction, it became clear to him that if he was to scale a building and get closer, some preventative measures were going to have to take place.

After waiting for the monster to turn back around, Kafka started to wave his arms around to get a hold of Iharu's attention.

'Go distract' Kafka tried to pantomime using military hand gestures.

'Me distract?' Iharu responded back, to which Kafka affirmed

'Are you nuts?' Iharu sent back, ducking as a chunk of debris flew over his head.

'Just throw a brick or something.' Kafka sent before picking up the post and tried to quietly lean it on the nearest building. Iharu hung his head at the absurd situation and looked around for a suitable rock.

Speedily crouch walking past several broken walls and roof pieces, he had managed to get back in front of the honju's path. Looking back, Kafka had transformed his hands back into claws and was now trying to climb the side of a building while alternating bringing the pole up with him. He seemed to be doing fine so far, trying his best not to make more noise than he could get away with. Kafka had made it to a metal fire escape landing that was miraculously still attached to a partially demolished building. He leaned over to pull up the light post behind him... and smacked the top of it into the landing above.

Before the monster had time to react to Kafka's blunder, Iharu had thrown the rock as hard as he could, aiming for it to land in front of its face and keeping its attention forward. This would of worked had Iharu had picked a smaller or lighter rock, as it had flown straight into one of the beast's wiggling tentacles. Iharu didn't have time to duck behind cover as it had turned to face the source of bodily harm. The honju roared as it raised its front arms and tentacles in defiance and began to lumber quickly toward the only thing it could really see, a mop of alarmingly pink hair.

"Shit, shIT, SHHHHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!" Iharu bolted down the street, leaping and bounding over ruble in his path as the squishy, blue beast rapidly shuffled behind him giving chase. Kafka vocally mirrored the pink human rocket's sentiment as he rushed to carry the light pole up to the remains of the roof.

The buildings around Furuhashi turned into a blended blur as he blasted down the street, the journey made easier now that he hit a section that the honju hadn't demolished yet and left no obstacles to jump around. However, that didn't mean that he didn't have an easy time running away. With every footstep the multi-limbed monster made, sent the road trembling, forcing Iharu to find some sea legs fast. While it seemed to be a constant fact that spider based kaiju were slow enough to be outrun by anyone able-bodied, The shaking this one was creating gave Iharu a feeling that one misstep, one slight falter in his adrenaline fueled gait, could spell a messy end for him.

As he came onto a three-way, he juked the literal fish-out-of-water and whipped right, feet sliding out from under him. Iharu had to recover quickly as the squid-spider had regained it's footing as well and picked up its pace. Tentacles slammed and swiped all around him, causing the younger soldier to duck and weave intensely and dug deep inside of himself to find the strength to go faster.

A simple image. A snow blonde man with frosted violet eyes. Once facing a complimentary sunset, turned back to face Iharu in his mind's eye.

That's all it took for him. Not thinking too much about it (surely if he did, he would call himself out on his patheticness) Iharu managed to speed up just in time. He found himself passing under a familiar Torii gate just as the honju began to bring down a weighty tentacle. Before it could though, a squelchy crunch sound echoed down the food stalls lined boulevard him and Kafka were on earlier. Iharu kept going until he noticed the lack of quaking that was accompanying his previous flight for his life. Slowing down cautiously, he turned around to gawk at the scene that had unfolded behind him

Just passing under the Torii gate was the unnatural squid like beast, now limp and an opaque, milky color. Stood on top of the bulbous trunk in a victorious killing pose was Kafka, having hammered the concreted base of the lamppost square over its one-shot kill spot. Kafka let go of the post once it seemed sure that the monstrous cephalopod wasn't going to move anymore and stood up and relaxed. He flashed Iharu a thumbs up in reassurance.

Iharu was far from reassured and was shaking from the head to toe in adrenaline withdrawal. He took a second to catch his breath and immediately regretted it, running over to an uncovered trash can and vomited his stomach contents from the nerves.

#########################################

Several back rubs, gurgled curses, and vehement apologies later, Iharu felt okay enough to walk again. Kafka took a second to extend his kaiju sensory powers to check the immediate area for more threats while Iharu double checked him with research from his phone. Certain they had eliminated the only threat that had decided to make its presence known, the two discussed their next course of action. Seeing that the damage had been localized to a different part of town and how none of it had really reached the festival, they decided to see if they could encourage those that were still around to start the food stalls back up. To be honest, the decision was made from a mutual understanding that if it didn't, the two of them would have no choice but to head back to headquarters. Which felt like admitting defeat too early, seeing as they had wanted to stay out as long as they wished tonight, damn the consequences.

The two split up and went around to the surrounding buildings and encouraged the caged civilians inside that it was safe now. Once told that it was some off duty members of the Defence Force, those inside started to walk out and braced themselves for the possible damage that wasn't there. Some of the bartenders of the local bars that hadn't left in the evacuation started a one time only deal of giving everyone that had stayed a round on the house. Once it seemed that the neighborhood's basements and closets were emptied, Kafka and Iharu met in the center of the street.

"I got everyone on the left." Kafka started.

"And I got everyone on the right. Going to head to the shelter where everyone headed to and see about bypassing the lock on it to get everyone out. You coming?" Iharu said, already turning to leave.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay here and see what I can do about the squid at the gate. Get it out of here before it gets rank." Iharu managed two thumbs up as he briskly jogged away to the rescue.

A large crowd had begun to form around the fishy corpse under the gate. Kafka could make out some of the hushed phrases as he politely muscled his way through.

"Can't believe it had gotten so close."

"There doesn't seem to be any casualties so far?"

"We were lucky that some members of the third division were here tonight."

"Its almost seems like the gods were looking out for the festival, don't ya think?"

"The spirits must have considered the food too good to waste- excuse me, coming through! Make way, if you don't mind." Kafka began to move more easily through the crowd after making his presence known.

Getting to the front, he stood proud and took a long look at the situation before him. His past experience in the Sweepers began to flow easily into his mind as he walked around and over the dead beast. It was soft and squishy, with a tough skin. Not so tough that it probably couldn't be pierced by a good knife, he thought. The keratin plates were only held on with a thin sheet of tendon and looked like it could be filleted or pried off with little difficulty. The legs seemed closer to a crab than a spider at a closer glance, it just had an extra set. Breaking the crab legs would be challenging, however. Sure they could be cracked, but only after heated drastically and directly at the joints. Kafka leaned back and sighed. He knew he wasn't going to be the one cleaning this up, but he'd hate to have the whole squad out here for what could be a three person job.

Well, three if they had five hours. The more people, the less time of course. This one just so happened to be simple to break down, however. Give him ten minutes and he could teach everything that was important to the crowd in front of him. They could probably have this all dismantled before the Sweepers even got out of bed.

"Hey! You're with the Defense force, right? How long do you think it would take to get this out of here?" A portly man in a tan canvas apron shouted up at Kafka. The half kaiju man slid down the deceased squid beast so he could talk to the man in an appropriate manner.

"Well the thing's dead, so that parts' already done. Getting the body out of here is down to the Sweepers. I used to work with them, so I can just call a few of them up and we can get this dismantled and out of here soon. It's all a shame though."

"What make you say that?" A taller man behind the chunky one piped up.

"Well, for one, if the JAKDF finds out I'm here, I'm gonna have to get back on duty sooner than I'd like." This caused a slight chuckle from the neighboring crowd that heard him, causing some to relax slightly.

"And this is me saying from previous experience, the dismantling for this thing would be easy; it's just labor intensive. Wouldn't need fancy tools or anything. Just some willing hands, and I'd hate to bring out a whole ten piece crew for something this small. I don't even think Izumo really messes with squid types anyway. Not unless they exhibit some unnatural power so this would end up getting tossed in a trash heap in the end." The short man from earlier turned to look at the milky squid spider and shook his head in sympathy.

"Damn shame they aren't edible, huh?" A light bulb went off in Kafka's head as he turned to look at the man. Looking down, he saw that, in the pockets of the man's apron, was a handful of toothpicks and a couple sets of sharp metal chopsticks with bells attached to the ends of the wooded handles. Instruments designed to get people attention when someone made takoyaki.

"Actually.... most aquatic type kaiju are."

Half an hour later, Iharu lead the throng of people that had made it to the shelter back to the street and saw the most ridiculous sight. People had swarmed the dead honju, a third of it now seemed to be missing. Some had rigged a makeshift pulley system over the Torri gate and was lifting large chunks of milky, spotted flesh up and away from the rest of the body. Kafka was at the base, directing others on how to properly separate the armored plates from the legs while somebody on the other side was using a cutting torch and passed off the legs to another group that was putting them in a steaming metal barrel. Some had set their respective stalls back up and had hurriedly changed or added on new parts to their signs, all now advertising a kaiju variant of wherever fried food they were selling before.

"KAFKA! Mind telling me what's going on?" Iharu shouted over the sound of intense manual labor. Kafka looked at everyone and asked if they understood. When everyone nodded yes, Kafka broke away and joined Iharu.

"Funny thing, actually. I was talking to this guy in the crowd about the labor and how it would be a waste if we got the Sweepers involved. He said something about 'Shame it ain't edible' and it made me remember that some sea-bearing ones are and the guy I was talking too ran the giant takoyaki stand, the one where they're as big as your head, and the guy behind him was selling calamari rings and-"

"So you thought it would be a good idea to teach everyone here how to dismantle a kaiju? You don't seriously expect people to eat that, right? It's kaiju meat, how are you so sure it doesn't have parasites or something?"

"Oh! Already solved that problem." Kafka said, "Quick vinegar bath. Kills the sturdier ones and the heat kills the rest." Iharu looked past Kafka suspiciously and stared at the group of volunteers working away at the dead and, apparently edible, body.

"And where's the organs and shit going, might I ask?"

"Called an old work buddy that has a truck. He's going to be here in an hour to pick up the double bagged trash bags and throw them over the fence at work. He's getting paid in fried food when he gets here." Kafka mentioned, sounding proud of himself. Iharu just shrugged it off, thinking that it sounded like Kafka-appropriate levels of absurdity and that he shouldn't complain too much about it. After all, this removes any and all reason for the third Division to come down here. No chaos, no bodies, no trouble. Which meant that they didn't have to explain to co-workers why they weren't back yet and be forcefully dragged back against their will, so wins all-around honestly.

The squat man from earlier walked over to where the two were talking, carrying two white and unmarked carryout boxes the size of a soccer ball.

"Here, you killed the damn thing. You get first dibs on the spoils." he handed them over and jogged back to his station, now flooded with a line of people wanting to try kaiju squid takoyaki.

The off duty officers looked at each other briefly before rapidly tearing open the top of the box, revealing the most wondrous sight and smell. Inside was a massive takoyaki ball, fried with a variety of fillings, more than just onions and corn and slathered in eel sauce and kewpie mayo, topped with bonito flakes.

'Maybe it was worth almost getting smashed into a pancake.' Iharu thought before diving into the free meal.

########################################

'Cleared the surrounding area of potential causalities in quadrant Charlie, found none. Path of destruction heads east. Permission to follow?" Aoi Kaguragi, a member of the Third Division, relayed the pertinent information through his ear piece, awaiting further instruction.

"Message received, free to follow Kaguragi. Take care." Okonogi relayed back.

Aoi nodded over to his partner for tonight, Haruichi, and the two of them headed in the direction of the chaotic path of broken rubble. The two of them, as well as a small crew had been sent out to examine the emergence site of the recently exposed kaiju. The team was originally sent out to fight the disturbance, but halfway through suiting up, was almost called off due to the honju signature suddenly disappearing. Vice Captain Hoshina had the last say however, and made the crew go out anyway. Saying at the very least they should check for injured and make a damage report. He didn't say this specifically, but the impression was given that, since they were all the way out there, someone might as well find out why the signature disappeared in the first place. Aoi and Haruichi got done first, so they went to find the answers.

Following the cracked pavement lead them to a three-way intersection that had clearly sustained some bludgeoning damage as indicated by the mid-sized honju-like dent in the buildings in front of them. They turned to the right and continued to follow the rows of spider cracks that had imprinted onto the houses and streets, only to have their concentration broken by a passing truck clearly overladen with bulging, lumpy, stained trash bags.

"Was that a giant squid backbone?" Haruichi questioned.

"I'm surprised you know what one looks like." Aoi stated, not letting small things distract him from following the path of structural chaos that led down the street.

"You do know that I go fishing with my cousins on occasion. 'Cook what you catch' kind of vacations."

"What, on your overpriced yacht?" Aoi smirked as he couldn't resist adding a touch of teasing in his voice. Haruichi could come across as so mild mannered some days, it made it hard to picture him as a son of a business tech tycoon. Everyone on the base that knew him would occasionally tease him about it and it seemed that, as polite and agreeable as Aoi was in person, even he wasn't above the periodic ribbing-of-the-rich.

"It's a moderately sized deck boat, thank you very much. If I kick out the family, it should be big enough for the two of us to have some fun. If you're interested, that is?" Haruichi said, words dusted with seduction as he winked at Aoi. Kaguragi's lips thinned in an attempt to not break his resting bitch face at the salacious suggestion.

"Then again, that implies either of us get enough time off to go anywhere these days." Haruichi huffed. Aoi quietly grumbled in agreement before he straightened his attention to the sight down the street.

As the two crested the small hill, the sounds of the festival became more apparent and the smells of the food crashed down on them like a tidal wave of spices and fried oil. They noticed that the damage they had been following seemed to have stopped here suddenly, directly under the Torri gate still covered in ropes. A couple of people on ladders were carefully taking them down and a pair of women, one young and one old, were on their knees scrubbing away at what looked like a large blue ink stain.

"Hello! Sorry to bother you, but have either of you seen a medium sized honju pass through here? We're with the Defense Force and we would like to make sure that the threat isn't still around."

"The big squid spider lookin' thing?" the younger lady of the two said as she looked up.

"I would assume so, we didn't know what it looked like since it seemed to disappear so quickly. My partner and I followed its tracks here, but they don't appear to be anywhere else." Haruicho adjusted the kevlar strap attached to his gun so it would sit squarely on his back and kneeled down to talk to the women face to face.

"A couple of off duty members of yours already took care of it. It was sitting here, spilling its blood on the sidewalk until the big, polite looking oaf got the bright idea to tell Aki that it was edible. Once that got passed around, some of the other seafood fryers wanted to get in on its dismantling and get their own pound of flesh to fry. If ya want to try it, better hurry. It's selling out fast." The old woman pointed to the stalls behind her just as some of them had walked out to write on their respective signs detailing about how they were almost sold out of fried or battered kaiju meat.

Izumo looked back to his partner and could almost see the drool cascading from Kaguragi's open mouth. Aoi looked down at him, hoping that he wasn't going to have to defy a direct order that didn't allow him to get in line. Haruichi dismissed him wordlessly with a hand wave, not that it mattered as Aoi had already left and now it seemed he was trying to use his Defense Force title to skip ahead in line. Sighing at his partner's antics, Haruichi returned to his conversation.

"You mentioned a 'polite looking oaf', and from that description, I have a feeling I might know who you're talking about. Would you mind telling me where the festival savior headed off to?"

"Last I saw, him and his pink haired friend went to celebrate in one of the bars around here. There's several, mind you, but I don't think they've crossed over to the left side yet. Best guess? Stick to the right and see which one sound the loudest." Haruichi thanked the old women for the advice and walked down the street. He stopped by Aoi and told him the same thing before starting his investigation in earnest. The words of the old women came back to mind, however, once he pieced together who the off duty members could be.

'Kafka's with Iharu? Here? That's odd. I thought Iharu was leaving with Reno? And weren't they just heading to a movie? Shouldn't they have been back by now?' Haruichi thought. As he passed down the street, carefully listening to the volume of any of the bars he passed, all he could do was hope that neither of them were too plastered to answer some questions.

#########################################

Haruichi walked up and down the street to get a good idea as to which of the bars seemed to be the loudest and popped his head into a few of of them to see if he could find his fellow co-workers. Third bar he picked seemed to be a karaoke bar. It was fairly narrow, with the bar on the right and the left wall lined with as many booths as one could fit comfortably. There were a couple of standing tables placed offset to each other in the middle of the room it seemed, but it was hard to tell how many there were through the mass of people crammed in the room. From the top of the short set of stairs he was standing on, he could see to the other side of the bar at least and look at the loud drunken pair singing their lungs out on the shallow stage placed at the end of the sitting area.

And who would of guessed it would be the 'polite looking oaf and his pink haired friend'. Kafka was the one holding the mic and had his arm slung over Iharu's shoulder, almost looking like he was putting his full weight on it with how far the two of them were bending toward the ground. Iharu was holding a large beer mug that was a quarter full and was still threatening to spill out onto the floor. The two were heavily engrossed in their rendition of... God, Haruichi couldn't even tell. Thankfully he wasn't subjected to the aural torture much longer as the song finished. While Iharu thanked the very drunk, very enthusiastic crowd for being such good listeners, Haruichi waved his arms over his head and got Kafka's attention.

"Heyyyyy! I'll be DAmned! It's fucken' Haruichi! Holy SHIT!" Kafka exclaimed. He dragged Iharu clumsily off the stage and waved Izumo over to some bar stools that some patrons happily got off of once Kafka explained himself and that his friend from the Defense Force showed up. Haruichi managed to muscle his way through the crowd and make it to the seats next to the others just as Kafka wrapped him up in a massive drunken bear hug.

"God, man! Where you've been? We've been here keeping this party going since we took down that ugly mutherfucker. Hey, you didn't hear about us from Hoshina did you?" Kafka's breath smelled heavily of cheap whisky but wasn't slurring his words half as much as Haruichi thought he would.

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. What the hell are you doing here? And with Iharu? I thought him and Reno had a date or something?" Kafka made a silencing gesture with his hand as he got closer to Haruichi.

"I wouldn't try and say that too loud. Reno had to blow the date for a mission and I don't think Iharu's been taking it too well. He had prepaid the movie tickets and I mentioned that I like Ranger Rika films, so now we're here."

"Okay, and what about the kaiju that showed up around here? I heard from the locals that you killed it?" Iharu, who had picked a spot on the other side of the two, had leaned in to hear them better and had perked up at the mention of the kaiju fight.

"OOHHH MAN! HaRU! YOU should of SEEN US, MAN! I wasss running for ma LIFE from that THING! I got chasssed ALL the WAY to the- the.... big red thing and Kafka ;OH man, KAFKA! HE came on it from ABOVE and smacked it with a fucken' LIGHT POLE! A light pole, MAN!" Iharu accentuated his retelling with wild hand gestures and made it clear to Haruichi that either he had more than Kafka did or couldn't hold his liqueur very well.

"Don't mind him, he's on his fourth mug right now. Is the rest of the division here with you?" Kafka asked.

"No, It's just me and Aoi here at the festival. The rest of the group is back at the emergence site making sure there's no casualties and taking a damage toll. Aoi's outside at the festival buying out all the fried food he can get his hands on right now." Haruichi replied, politely refusing the bartender's inquiry of whether or not he would be having a drink.

"Oh, that's nice. here's hoping that he manages to grab some of the kaiju meat before it's gone." Kafka downed another shot of whiskey that the bartender had poured out for him.

"Okay, sure. Last question. Aren't you guys supposed to be back by now?" Haruichi tried to look very pointedly at the two of them when he asked.

'What do you mean by that?" Kafka pounded on his chest as he said, fighting the burning sensation firing its way back up his throat. Izumo looked around appearing very puzzled before he looked back at Kafka.

"I don't know what time you guys left, but you can't tell me the two of you have enough hours to be out here for much longer." Hibino choked on his own spit for a second before trying to respond to Haruichi pointed suggestion, however it seemed to be a second too long as Iharu had already heard him and took the chance to... vocally express his opinion on the matter.

"FUCK THEM HOURS!"

'Iharu, maybe not right now-" Kafka tried to interject.

"NAH! I'M TIRED ABOUT HEARING ABOUT HOW MANY HOURS I GOTTA HAVE OR HOW MANY I GOT LEFT!" Iharu had gotten off of his stool and now began directing his speech to the drunk crowd behind him.

"WHEN I SAY I WANT A DAY OFF, I SHOULD GET THE WHOLE DAY OFF! NOT GET BACK A 'SORRY, CAN'T LET YOU DO THAT' OR 'WE NEED YOU TO COME BACK IN' TWO HOURS INTO A BREAK I SCHEDULED OFF THREE FUCKIN' DAYS AGO!" Now the crowd was cheering for Iharu, getting riled up on his behalf and probably relating as well due to how he worded his rant.

"SAY IT WITH ME! FUCK THEM HOURS!" Iharu started the chant with his mug held high in the air.

"Fuck them hours!" the crowd chanted back.

"FUCK THEM HOURS!" Iharu tried again

"FUCK THEM HOURS!!!" All the people in the room joined in this time.

"You think we should do something?" Haruichi asked.

"I think they're already handling it." Kafka pointed to two tall, well built men dressed in black polos walking over to the center of the crowd where Iharu had made himself at home, driving the people around him into a frenzy. The two at the bar watched as their friend was lifted up, crowd surfing style and was carried to the front door of the bar. They rushed off of their seats and joined in at the back of the mock revolution that was following their leader, still chanting 'Fuck them hours."

The two of them watched as their coworker was unceremoniously tossed onto his ass on the street outside of the bar. Watching their appointed leader get treated with such carelessness seemed to shake the throng of people out of their rebellious state of mind and dispersed quietly. Kafka and Haruichi looked down at a stunned Iharu laying spread eagle, not really sure what he should do next. Kafka decided to lay down next to Iharu while Haruichi sat down on the lip of the sidewalk behind their heads.

"So, you just got your first experience getting kicked out from a bar. How do you feel?" Kafka asked, not looking at Iharu but instead looking up at the stars being framed in the corners of his vision by the lanterns lining the street.

"Ssstars look purtty tonight." Iharu replied, pointing up at the sky with the glass mug he was holding onto inside the bar.

Kafka chuckled, "Yeah, they sure do buddy."

"You think they're going to notice the mug you're still holding?" Haruichi asked, face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. It looked like Iharu finally realized what he was holding as he brought it closer to his face. Looking closer at the mug, he could see that the glass had a pattern molded around the base. An interlocking pattern made up of a six pointed star with tiny branches spouting off the ends of each point. Almost like a snowflake.

Iharu violently convulsed into tears at the thought and curled up into a ball, clutching the beer mug close to his chest.

"Geez, what did I say?" Haruichi asked.

"I have a feeling this is about something else." Kafka said, rolling onto his side to comfort his partner.

"I jussst wanted to take him on a date, isss dat so wrong?" Iharu sobbed, fighting to talk around the mucus building in his throat.

"Reno?" Haruichi asked

"Reno." Kafka replied, hugging Iharu close to his chest as best he can.

"I was going to show him how much we have in common and take him to pretty placesss and buy him nice things! I jussst wanted to tell him how much it meant to me to be his fwend and how much I loved hiiimmm..." Kafka just rubbed his back as his body became racked with shakes from his struggle to breathe. "I jussst wanted to tell him that I thinks he's so cooool and that I think he's pretty when he's asleep and I didn't want to sssound creepy when I did! Why couldn't he be here?" Iharu screamed into Kafka's wind breaker, now stained with tears and mucus.

"It'll be okay. You'll have other chances to tell him." Kafka tried to say reassuringly in the awkward position.

"Buts I wanted to tell him today! I don't think I can wait any longer before I say sssomething ssstupid and ruin everything! And I don't even know if he'll like me baaaack!" Iharu only to calm down slightly, but at least the shaking stopped. Kafka looked back at Haruichi expectantly, silently asking him to help out here. Izumo slid himself off the sidewalk and scooched over to the men making a scene in the middle of the street and placed a hand on the younger one of the three.

"There, there. I'm sure you two will be able to talk it out. I have no doubt that Reno harbors anything less than love for you in his heart."

"Okay, that'sss nice and all, but do we know it's love 'as a fwend' or love 'as a partner'? 'Cuz I really want it to be 'as a partner' but I don't want to tell him if he'sss going to find that uncomfortable." Iharu said as tried his best to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of his jacket. Haruichi pondered for a minute before suggesting a plan.

"Maybe... I could ask?", Iharu looked tearfully behind him as best as possible to look Haruichi in the eyes. "I wouldn't say anything incriminating, just... see if he's open to the possibility?"

This seemed to pacify Iharu a little bit as he brought himself to a sitting position.

"Yeah, but that doesssn't solve what I could do for a date, though. This wasss da best I could come up with and I was racking my brain for a week." Iharu slurred, wiping his face. Kafka up-righted himself as well and scratched his side as he positioned himself perpendicular to Iharu.

"Well, either way, you're going to have to wait and save up time again before you're allowed to head back out." Kafka thought for a moment as he paused in his scratching, "Its the middle of June now, right? Late July, early August is a pretty good time for a beach date. Romantic enough and lots of places do a sorta 'last week of summer hoorah' kinda deal."

"And we're pretty close to the beach. Wouldn't need to save up many hours if you're that desperate for time." Haruichi chimed in. Iharu took all of the information in and, for the first time tonight, seemed genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that can be seen all the way through someone's core.

"Did I miss something?" A familiar, but muffled baritone rang out from the left of the group. It was Aoi, back from a successful shopping spree in the festival. His arms were laden with bags upon bags of different types of food. It was almost comical how many bags there were seeing as one couldn't even find his large torso. Ranging from white plastic bags, to brown paper ones, to clear ones showcasing the goods inside. All seemingly stuffed to the brim.

"Is that... a hamster butt hanging out of your mouth?" Haruichi asked. Aoi quickly chewed and swallowed it so he could speak more clearly.

"Its hamster shaped kikufuku mochi. I almost feel guilty eating them because they're so cute. Unfortunately for them, they're just as good as they look. Don't worry, I bought enough for everyone. Three of these boxes are for me though." Aoi paused and stared at the bags really hard for a second. "Actually, it's two now, but my point still stands."

######################################

Haruichi made the suggestion that, maybe, they should be making their way back to base but Iharu became very irate at that suggestion. So to pacify him, the pair-turned-quartet walked around the festival a little longer, buying some more food to help Iharu feel more like his happier self. Well, everyone else walked. Kafka started giving Iharu a piggy back ride when it seemed like he was swaying on his feet and complained about foot pain. They had made it halfway down the other side of the street when Kafka looked over and saw something that jogged his memory. Aoi noticed the feeling of disconnect in the group and turned around, causing Haruichi to look as well.

It was another Torri gate, nestled between two brick buildings, looking like it was erected as a protective marker. Blocking against the bustle of the festival, locked behind its towering height was a well worn stone path trailing up and to the left, hiding its destination behind a thick grove of trees. What refreshed Kafka's memory, however, was that the trail was lined with a multitude of overly colorful paper lanterns in a variety of shapes and sizes. The stillness of the trees and the ethereal light pouring out from the lanterns contrasted against the feeling that came from being out on the street. It really felt like there was a chance one could get swept away by playful spirits if one made the decision to turn off from the sidewalk and explore this detour.

"Hey, Iharu? Kafka asked, shifting his friend's weight on his back and rousing him from the light slumber he was about to slip into.

"Yeah," Iharu said sleepily, "What's up?"

"Didn't you say there was a shrine that you wanted to take Reno to that had paper lanterns and was close to the festival?" Iharu looked over at what Kafka was looking at and lit up a little at the memory.

"Oh yeah! Thisss might be it actually." Kafka looked over at the other two members of the party.

"I think we're going to take a detour. He had plans to stop by the place earlier. The path ahead might be long, so you can go ahead on back, If you want."

"Oh, no. We're sticking with you to make sure you both actually make it back to base." Haruichi walked over to stand under the gate and made an 'after you' kind of gesture. Kafka shrugged his shoulders and walked ahead of Izumo and Kaguragi.

The path had no steps, but sloped upwards gently. Turning sharply left then right then back again, it took the group on a slow and peaceful journey up a hidden hill behind the buildings back on the main boulevard. Kafka was in the lead, setting a slow pace with a sleepy Iharu on his back while Aoi and Haruichi had a quiet discussion further back. Still keeping pace, but leaving enough room between the two of them as to not make things feel rushed.

The path lived up to its initial impression back at its entrance. The trees seemed to block any sound from the festival down at ground level. Not to make things eerily quiet, was a methodical thrumming of cicadas and crickets weaving through the quiet rush of leaves dancing in the light wind. The lanterns were attached to arms connected to rough-hew logs and cast their warm, glassy light over the leaves, bushes, and stones. The shards of colored light danced over Iharu's partially lidded eyes, preforming a hypnotic dance that succeeded in keeping him half awake, half asleep.

His thoughts walked themselves backwards through the events of the day. Starting with the foods and the drinking, quickly sweeping past the terrifying chase against the giant squid monster, slowly reliving the events after, though, and before the movie theater. All the way back to the start, with Reno. Was he sad that he didn't get to do any of this with Reno? Absolutely. But considering the alternative was spending three hours in the barracks, wrapped up in a bare minimum of three stolen blankets, and blowing all that time feeling shitty about the situation he was in; getting to experience all of this anyway, in spite of how he wanted things to go, and having fun with someone he always worked with and was now getting this chance to be closer to as friends... well... this night did a fine job of making him happy anyway. And that was okay.

"Hey... this was nice." Iharu mumbled as he nuzzled Kafka's shoulder. Kafka just gave a big, warm smile back and let Iharu enjoy the scenery as they continued to find the end of the path.

The group finally hit a set of stairs that led to the main part of the shrine. Cresting the top of them, they were greeted with a lovely sight. A moderately sized shrine and a couple outbuildings were surrounded in the thick grove of trees on this hill. The lightly cloudy night sky was visible only in the center of the grove, with a half moon peaking out from the edge of the canopy's opening. It initially seemed that the main source of light was coming from candles and more of the lanterns that lined the path up here. Looking around longer proved that a building off to the right had electric lighting and was the one providing the most light. The light bulbs inside seemed to have attracted all the bugs in the forest and made the projecting light flicker chaotically onto the ground.

Both the shrine and the buildings around it appeared to be old, but very well maintained. Shimenawa ropes of all sizes lined the roofs of the Shrine and select other buildings. The candles, some exposed; others in glass containers, were on the floor of the main shrine and illuminated the collection box at the end of the stone path.

The four of them walked down to the end to pay their respects and make donations. Since Aoi's hands were full and he didn't have much money left after his buying spree, Haruichi paid for them both. Kafka's wallet was in the back pack on Iharu's back. So, without jumping off, Iharu took off the bag and pulled out both of their wallets. Kafka had plenty left but Iharu only had a couple 1000 yen bills and a lot of spare change. He dug out some 5 yen coins and tossed them in with Kafka's donation, still riding on his back. Haruichi made his and the whole group held their hands together in silent prayer.

The group turned around after a moment and walked back toward the entrance they came through. This time staying closer to the right as another group of people walked into the holy grounds as well. Sticking closer to the right afforded the group a good look at the wares the only properly illuminated building was selling. It was mainly some snacks and wooden key chains. There was the omikuji box of course, right next to a display of handmade protective charms and talismans. There was a man on the inside working away, oblivious to the world as a women sang a gentle song on a small black radio. Iharu glanced over the selection of charms and saw one that immediately caught his eye.

"Hey! Heyheyheyheyhey." Iharu's hand shook as he pointed at the charms display.

"What? What is it?" Kafka asked, trying to look at where Iharu's hand was pointing at.

"Looklooklooklook. The blue one." Iharu said vaguely. Kafka walked closer and leaned in to scan the display stand better. He found the light blue one that Iharu was pointing at. It didn't stand out much more differently than the rest, with all of them having the same complicated looking decorative knot pattern and they all were made with different colors of fabric. What he finally put together was that the pattern on the fabric... had snowflakes on it.

Kafka sighed heavily. "I take it you want the blue one for Reno?"

"Yeah, yeahyeahyeah." Iharu nodded quickly.

"You do realize you're broke now, right? You don't have enough money on you to pay for one." Kafka stated. Iharu hung his head and started to whimper loudly and pathetically into Kafka's shoulder.

All Hibino did was sigh heavily again. "Hand me my wallet." Furuhashi gave a small, delighted squeal as he dug out Kafka's wallet again. He paid the man for the charm and turned to meet back up with the other two. Looking around, they found them at a different part of the grounds, standing by a makeshift stall. Getting closer, they could see that it was selling bottles of plum wine and offering free samples to interested buyers. Aoi was sampling his, while Haruichi was having a conversation with the old lady running the stall. Aoi nudged Haruichi to let him not be shocked by their arrival. As Haruichi let Kafka in on the discussion he was having, Iharu immediately spaced out of it and let his eyes wander over the stall. The eyes eventually landed on the label that was on the bottles.

"Oooohhh!" Iharu cooed, "There's snowflakes on it."

"Don't tell me you want to gift Reno that too?" Kafka said exasperatedly. Iharu started to whine again as Haruichi passed a small wad of money over to the shocked lady behind the table.

"That's okay. I shouldn't be needing a whole case of wine anyway." Haruichi walked over to the side and grabbed a large plastic crate of wine bottles.

"And yet... You're buying a whole case of it anyway?" Aoi said with a raised eyebrow. As they walked back to the entrance, Izumo pulled out a bottle and tried to slide it into the open portion of the bag on Iharu's back.

"It's called 'Supporting local businesses'. And it wouldn't hurt to have something to surprise him with on that beach da- Hey!" Haruichi refuted as Iharu pulled out another bottle from the crate as he backed away.

"And, yoink!" the mischievous mohawked man giggled as he held his ill-gotten prize over his supplier's hands.

"Haven't the two of you had enough alcohol tonight?" Aoi said, witnessing the altercation.

"Hey, we made plans to get plastered tonight and I'm still feeling way too sober for that goal." Kafka said as he helped Iharu keep the bottle out of Haruichi's reach.

"You are a horrible role model, you know that?" Izumo said, giving up on the task in favor of protecting the rest in the crate.

"Eh, open." Iharu said, rudely tapping the lip of the bottle to Kafka's mouth.

"Ya could say please, ya know." Kafka returned as he took the bottle from Iharu. He did a partial transformation on his mouth and stuck the largest fang into the cork at the top. Wiggling slightly, the stopper popped satisfyingly and as he spit the cork into his hand, Iharu took the opportunity to steal the wine back.

"HEY! Leave me a sip of that, will YA?"

###########################################

The group made it back to street level and started back on the path to headquarters. They began the trip with the intention of taking a bus back, assuming the truck that Haruichi and Aoi came in on already left without them. The two of them weren't surprised, they were the ones that offered to look for the missing kaiju signature and haven't reported back on it yet, as it was hard to do so since the earpieces only have so much range. And seeing as how long the two of them had been gone and how late it was, they thought that it would be less of a hassle if they hiked it back to base and went inside quietly, just to give their reports in the morning.

The closest bus station was still a ways away, so the group started to walk in the general direction. The walk was quickly derailed as they passed the restaurant that sold Kafka and Iharu their new hats. With some major protesting from Aoi, who was against the idea, Haruichi purchased a dark navy blue one for Aoi and a vibrant red one with silver stars for himself anyway, seeing as Aoi still had his hands full with bags and physically could not intervene. The grumbled protests from Aoi were eventually silenced when he got to keep a large chocolate peanut butter milkshake all to himself.

Thankfully, the bus ride home was uneventful, save for Iharu drunkenly talking Haruichi's ears off when he asked what the Ranger Rika film was all about. However, problems began to arise again as they reached the main gate of the base.

"Ssso, how are we gonna get inside?" Iharu slurred from the top of Kafka's back. He started to carry him again after they got off the bus and saw that he was still swaying on his feet. They were all the way through the empty parking lot and reached the imposing security wall that surrounded the institution. Just under half a kilometer, was the double gated entry point. One of three that were imbedded in the thick concrete barrier.

"What do you mean?" Izumo asked as he turned around to look at the two behind him.

"We probably should've been back, like, hours ago. So if we show our i.d's to the guard, we're probably going to get flagged and that's not something that we want to deal with right now." Kafka said slowly, the gratuitous amounts of alcohol finally catching up with him.

"Did you guys have any sort of plan to get back inside quietly after this little exhibition of yours?" Aoi asked as Haruichi just looked annoyed. Kafka looked back at Iharu as Iharu could only shrug back an answer. He looked back and thought hard for a minute.

"Well... I think Shiggys' working the east gate tonight." Kafka said.

"And... Who's Shiggy?" Haruchi inquired.

"Oh, he's super chill. Dude works the late shift and isn't really a 'by the books' kinda guy. If either one of you has an i.d. on ya, he'll probably just let the whole group on in, no question." Aoi and Haruichi looked at each other, silently debating if they should go through with this. Aoi tried to give a very pointed look to Haruichi, indicating that he should be the one to whip out the i.d., but Haruichi had to defend himself.

"Sorry, but I only carry some cash out on missions. I leave the wallet and cards in my locker."

"Why do you even bring cash with you in the first place?" Iharu mumbled out.

"Last second grocery buys. Snacks, body wash, other things I forget sometimes." Haruichi turned back to Aoi. "So what about you? You can't tell me an ex-military officer doesn't carry at least six forms of identification for emergencies." he mocked. Aoi looked at Izumo, down to the ground in deep thought, gave a hard glance at the plethora of bags he was still holding, and finally hung his head in defeat. Kaguragi sighed heavily as he turned his back to his partner.

"Haruichi... I give you permission to touch my ass." Haruichi gasped in delight as he carelessly dropped the plastic box of wine and wiggled his fingers in excitement.

"Ooohhoohoo! This is a rare treat! What's the occasion, might I ask?"

"If I'm right, my wallet should be in my left back pocket. JUST the left one." Aoi said, looking back with a very pointed expression.

"Yeah you say that, but maybe I should check the right side too. Just to be sure." Haruichi giggled darkly, clearly taking too much joy out of this.

"Do that and I break your ha-nds!" Aoi's voice cracked when Haruichi slyly pinched both of his ass cheeks.

"Ah, would you look at that! Found it." He said as he pulled out the wallet.

"Kafka... shoot me if I ever start acting like that around Reno." Iharu said.

"I don't know. It's kind of endearing... in a weird way." Kafka quirked an eyebrow at the odd scene.

"Ah, trouble. I'm not seeing your base i.d., babe." Haruichi said after a few seconds of rummaging around in the wallet.

"You're sure? Fuck." Aoi cursed quietly. "Do I even trust you enough to look in my front pockets?"

"Nope. I'm going to look anyway." Haruichi giggled again as Aoi visibly winced at the feeling of the other's hands slowly sliding into his thin front pockets from behind. Izumo's hands didn't stick around long, which Kaguragi was thankful for, but it only brought them back to the original problem.

"I'm not feeling your i.d. in here either." Haruichi said as he gently patted Aoi's hips.

"Shiiiiiiiit. That means I never took it off the lanyard in my locker." Aoi threw his head back in disappointment. While this exchange was going on, Kafka and Iharu were looking off in the distance, specifically at the impossibly tall wall. Kafka scanned the parking lot to make sure that there wasn't that many cars to worry about and asked Iharu a question.

"You think If I run fast enough, I can scale that?" He said, nodding to the concrete barrier.

"What, in kaiju form?" Iharu contemplated for a moment, "Yeah. I think you could."

"I know I could, but what about if I carry three other people?" Kafka nodded back to the other two who were deep in what seemed to be a battle plan discussion. "Plus baggage."

Iharu took a long look at the pair next to them while he processed what Kafka was suggesting. He began to chuckle darkly as it all fell into place for him.

"I don't know man, but it be hilarious to try." The two of them began to chuckle in agreement before Kafka decided to put his plan into action.

"Haruichi! Grab the box. I wanna try something." Kafka said as he walked into position.

"Oh, that's great! Honestly, me and Aoi here were getting nowhere with a pla-HEY!" Haruichi cried out as Kafka grabbed him by the waist forcefully after he picked up the crate. Aoi was also none too pleased with where this plan was going, shall we say.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking. Flight Kafka 690 will be taking off shortly, so please make sure that all baggage is secure and accounted for before it's wheels up and time for take-off." Iharu said smugly as Kafka walked back a few feet, holding a struggling Haruichi and Aoi.

"This is BY FAR the stupidest plan I have ever been forced to be a part oooOOFFFF!" Haruichi screamed as Kafka began to run full sprint toward the insanely high wall. As he got closer, his legs turned into his kaiju ones and the flaps on his calves flared open to reveal the after burners the transformation offered. Jumping onto the wall itself, Kafka's afterburners set fire to the bottom of his pant legs as he rocketed himself and everyone he was carrying into the sky. He could feel his back and elbows transform too to help him keep his back straight as the burners on his elbows helped stabilize him as he somehow managed to stay rooted to his path.

"Kafka you BASTARD!" Aoi screamed.

"If I drop this, I'll KILL YOU!" Haruichi mirrored, changing his grip on the crate of wine, somehow having not dropped any bottles yet.

"FUCK YEAAAAAHHHH!" Iharu cries of joy overshadowed the screams of the others.

"ALLLLMOOOOST THERRRREEE!" Kafka shouted, deep in concentration. The top of the wall got closer and closer, the end of this terrifying ride nearly in sight. The screams of the whole group rose to a deafening peak as Kafka just barely passed the edge of the wall. Relief was felt only for a brief moment when a noticeable shock wave passed through Kafka's body and transferred into the bodies of the others.

"Oh shit." a collective conclusion that was voiced by the whole group.

#########################################

It was just passed one in the morning when Reno and the team he was with made it back to base. He was so very tired. No one ended up being injured, thank God, but the anxiety of the situation took a severe toll on everyone involved. The mole kaiju were easy to take out, but the process to do so ended up becoming the world's most stressful game of literal Wack-a-mole.

Reno thought things would get better when everything was over, feeling hopeful on the chopper ride back, but when Reno pulled up his Chatter app and saw he's feed was just a timeline of Iharu and Kafka having the time of their lives at the food festival, it really put a damper on the ride back.

'I guess he really wanted to leave base today' Reno thought somberly. Iharu was his own person. If he wanted to leave, that's on him. If he wanted to take someone with him, that's on him too.

'It's just... I really wanted to go with him. And thought... he wanted me too..." Reno packed away his gun and excess supplies into his locker, feeling sluggish as he did. Suddenly, a loud metallic slamming noise decided to ring out through the locker room that he was in and dislodged him from his thoughts. Suit half unzipped, Reno tied the sleeves around his waist as he looked down the aisles to see where the door slamming was coming from.

Looking down the row behind him, he saw what seemed to be a very pissed off Kikoru Shinomiya, telling by the feral growling and tearing at her spare bio suit.

"Ummm... Is everything okay? Shinomiya?" Reno asked tentatively.

"I"M GOING TO MURDER THAT PRAWN HEADED RAT BASTARD!" Kikoru growled out as she finally managed to get her lower half into the power suit. Reno only became increasingly concerned now knowing this unbridled rage had something to do with Iharu. He couldn't ask anymore questions, however, since Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina decided now would be the time to make his presence known.

"Reno. Good to see that you and the rest are back safely."

"Ah! V-vice Captain." Reno stuttered out, startled. "I was just getting my stuff packed before I joined the others for the after mission briefing."

"Good to know, but I think the rest of the team can make the report without you for now." Hoshina said curtly.

"S-sir?" Reno questioned vaguely.

"Don't worry, it's nothing life shattering. I just want to ask you about what the original plans you had with Iharu Furuhashi were about." Hoshina said, his voice giving off the sense that there was some concealed irritation.

"Um, plans? You mean the trip to the movies?" Reno asked.

"Yes, and where you were... haa, hold that thought. Go for Hoshina" he said as his hand made it up to his earpiece.

"Hoshina, this is Okonogi. We've got a massive disturbance at the front gate."

"Define 'disturbance'." Hoshina requested. If one looked closely, you could almost see his temple throbbing in a matched rhythm with his heart.

"I'm pulling security footage now. It's... Kafka Hibino, Sir? It appears that he is trying to... run up? The outer wall and is carrying three other Division members."

"I'm sorry? Other Division members?" Hoshina clarified.

"Yes Sir, that is correct. Just a moment... It looks to be Iharu Furuhashi, Aoi Kaguragi, and Haruichi Izumo. The absent members from this afternoon."

"What the hell is going on?" Reno asked, adjusting his own earpiece to the main channel, wanting to be included in the conversation.

"Sir, update! Kafka had made it up the wall, but has tripped and all four of them are in free fall on the other side" Okonogi reported. Hoshina's sigh turned into an exasperated growl toward the end.

"Come along Reno. We're apparently going to have to save our respective dumbasses." Hoshina turned to leave the room with a puzzled Reno trailing behind.

"Respective dumbasses?" Kikoru muttered. Immediately, a light came on upstairs. "Not until I get a hold of that ASSHOLE FIRST!" Kikoru turned and blasted past the vice captain and ran in the opposite direction of the front gate.

"Who put a bug in her suit?" Hoshina asked as they both leaned on the doorframe and watched her go.

"WRONG DIRECTION, KIKORU!" Reno added helpfully.

######################################

"SSSHHHHIIIIIIIIT" Everyone screamed as they realized what was happening. Kafka relaxed his arms as Haruichi and Aoi planted their feet on his hips and pushed themselves away as far as they could. Iharu, though, hung on for dear life. Haruichi and Aoi still had the their bio suits on, so the landing from such a height didn't give them much trouble. Izumo landed on the balls of his feet and managed to roll with the momentum onto his thighs, through his knees and back onto his butt. All while managing to keep all the wine bottles in the crate. Well, most of them. Two had slipped out during descent and were still up in the air. He rushed forward, leaped into the air, and grabbed them before they touched the ground. Aoi just tanked the landing and kept on his feet.

"You good?" Haruichi asked.

"Just fine." Aoi said through gritted teeth.

Kafka and Iharu were not so lucky.

Kafka also tried to roll into the fall, but messed up and landed on his foot weirdly. Iharu still hadn't let go at this point, so when Kafka fell to the ground, Iharu's knee made contact next.

"Fuck! That was a knee!" Iharu exclaimed. Once momentum seemed to stop, the two of them untangled and rolled away from each other.

"Well, that didn't look pleasant." A sly voice from away came into clarity.

"Vice Captain!" said Haruichi.

"Vice Captain, Sir." said Aoi when he felt recovered enough to speak.

"Well, shit." came from Kafka, knowing he'd been caught.

"YOU THIEVING PIECE OF CRAP!" Kikoru had made a beeline to the crumpled Iharu and began to physically berate him with her foot. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY BRADA BACK PACK?"

"Here, here! It's right here! WAIT, MY SHIT'S STILL INSIDE!" Iharu said as he handed over the stolen bag, only to realize too late that he left his gifts inside.

"I can see that! What is this? Wine? Plum wine? and a beer glass?" Kikoru took a whiff inside the mug, "A used BEER GLASS? What the hell is this doing in here?" Kikoru pulled out a ring of keys next.

"And who the hell's keys are these?' She asked. Hoshina immediately took them from her hand and looked at them in his.

"Kafka... why the hell does Iharu have my keys in a stolen back pack?" Hoshina said, gritting the words through his teeth. Kafka and Iharu looked at each other for a moment before shouting in unison

"OH SHIT! WE FORGOT THE BIKE!"

"YOU WHAT?" Soshiro screamed, hauling Hibino up by his collar.

"And is this... are there FRY CRUMBS IN MY BRADA? IS THAT A CHILE SAUCE STAIN? IN MY BRADA?" Kikoru began to weaponize the empty bag and used it to beat the already downed Iharu.

"Oh, damn. I didn't know that was Brada." Haruichi said, trying to pass by the commotion.

"Thanks Captain Obvious, I think we figured that out." Kafka retorted as he was dragged off the ground by Hoshina.

"NONE of you go too far. You all have some explaining to do." Hoshina said, gripping tightly to Kafka' forearm.

"Kikoru, I think he's had enough!" Reno said as he finally stepped into view and intervened in the one sided fight between the two of them. As he helped Iharu off the ground he asked, "Hey, are you alright?"

It didn't take Iharu very long to realize who was helping him up and immediately threw his arms around Reno's neck.

"AEDZGJNSTR, RENO! You're back! I'm so happy now!" he said as he gurgled drunkenly around his words. "I'm so happy that you're back! I was missing you all day. I'm sorry that left without youuu. I prepaid the tickets and Kafka said I should use them, so I did, but I was wishing that you were there 'cuz it was a great movie and I went to the festival without you too and it was making me sad, but I had food and I thought I would be okay and then I saw this mug and it reminded me of you-" Iharu broke away to grab the somehow intact mug from Kikoru's hands.

"It was this mug, 'cuz see! It has snowflakes on it and it made me think of you and how much I missed you and how I wanted to take you with me on the date but I couldn't and I thought about how I thought I blew my chance to tell you that I love you-" he took a big deep breath, "But Kafka and Haruichi said that I could take you to the beach and I felt happy again so the mug made me happy again because it still reminds me of you so I want you to have it." Iharu had finally stopped talking for a moment and looked deep into Reno's widened eyes with his watery, eager ones. Reno could feel his face start to burn once he slowed down all the words that Iharu had said and realized what it meant. Before Reno could even begin to tell him anything, Iharu looked like he remembered something else and turned back to a stunned Kikoru, who had been listening to the entire conversation. He grabbed the protective charm and the bottle of wine and clumsily shoved them into Reno's hands.

"Oh! Also, Me and Kafka and Haruichi and Aoi all went to this shrine that I wanted to show you because I thought it was pretty and you remind me of pretty things and when I was there I saw this charm and it has snowflakes on it, so of course I had to buy it- well, Kafka bought it, but I still want you to have it 'cuz its pretty and do you think they'll let me put this on your gun? 'cuz I think that would be cool-ohohoh! OR I could put it on the suit! That would be really cool if they let me do that. Oh and speaking of cool- looklooklook-" Iharu picked up the bottle of plum wine and showed him the label.

"This has snowflakes on it too! It's going to be a surprise when I take you on our beach date in a few weeks!" Iharu had wrapped his hands back around Reno's neck and begun to swing themselves around, causing Reno to put his already full hands on Iharu's waist to keep themselves upright.

"I'm going to save up my hours again and when we go to the beach, we're gonna go on a picnic and I'm gonna break out the bottle and I'm gonna tell you how much I looove youuu and how much I like being around youuu and how much I like being yourrr rivaaal..." Iharu had finally stopped spinning them around and leaned all the way onto Reno, wrapping his hands tightly around his crush's shoulders.

"Doesn't that sound really nice?" He whispered, gently nosing the shell of Reno's ear.

Reno felt like he was shaking. Whether from shock or excitement, he wasn't sure. He took the bottle that was still in Iharu's hand and tightened his around the sleepy drunk's waist. He felt his face flush even harder, blood flooding his brain and making his ears and shoulders feel like a million degrees in the cool night air. Burying his face into Iharu's shoulder, Reno confessed his only thought on his mind.

"That... sounds amazing, Iharu." But Iharu wasn't listening. Having fallen asleep, nuzzled into Reno's neck and breathing softly, almost snoring.

"Well, wasn't that a touching display." Hoshina said sarcastically, not one to let the quiet stand infinitely. "He's still getting a hefty reprimand, as well as you." He said, directing the last bit of statement to Kafka, which he was now holding by the ear.

"What the fuck possessed you to write in three hundred AND THIRTY SIX HOURS? DID YOU THINK YOU COULD HONESTLY GET AWAY WITH THAT? AND YOU LEFT MY BIKE BEHIND?" Hoshina said as he began to drag Kafka away, causing the rest of the group to cringe in response to the abuse.

"Forget a week of janitorial duty! It's a month- no, three months! And you can forget the office sex too!" Aoi and Haruichi were nodding along solemnly to what Hoshina was saying, mentally grieving for Kafka and any spare time he would've had, only to snap back to reality at the last bit of punishment.

"Oh, come on! It was a joke- wait, lets thINK ABOUT THIS!" Kafka cried, 'Three months for a joke is a bit much, don't ya think! I'll get the bike back, I swear!"

"YOU CAN'T EVEN DRIVE IT! If you keep arguing, I'll cut out the blowjobs too!" Hoshina said sternly, still dragging Kafka away. His cries of disappointment were heard all the way to the guard house.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Bonus/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You sure you don't want help with that?" Kikoru asked, carrying her (apparently) expensive black back pack and a couple plastic bags of food that Aoi got her at the food festival.

"No thank you, I'm good." Reno said as he struggled to carry an asleep Iharu, the items he got for him, and the bags of food that Aoi also got for him.

"Are you at least aware that you have to make a left turn in about twenty feet?" Kikoru retorted, smiling smugly at all the trouble that Reno was going through to not disturb Iharu's sleep.

"Yes, Kikoru, I know where I'm going. A fair bit better than you, since you still can't remember where the front door is." Kikoru snobbishly stuck her nose in the air at the insult.

"The front door was always down and to the right of the of the mission personnel lockers. It still seems stupid that they would change the layout in such a drastic manner."

"Whatever Kikoru. Have a good night." Reno turned to go into the male barracks as Kikoru parted to go to her side of the building.

He walked into the area holding the bunks and put Iharu down on Reno's bed since Furuhashi slept on the top bunk. Reno knew better than to try and get him up there by himself. He set him down as gently as he could, making sure not to catch any of the gifts under Iharu. Reno set his stuff down and leaned over to put the deeply asleep soldier's feet on the bed, and since he was down there, took off Iharu's shoes too. Carefully wrenching the sheets out from under the body, Reno tucked him in as gently as possible. Getting shocked for a moment when Iharu shifted and grabbed the blanket from Reno's hands, but when all Iharu did was tuck the sheet under his chin, Reno let out the breath he didn't know he held.

Not wanting to leave him alone so soon, however, Reno took a pillow from another bunk and placed it on the floor about where Iharu's head was. Getting to the floor as carefully as possible, he sat down on the pillow and opened the bags of food, courtesy of Aoi. He rummaged around quietly and started to pull out some of the goods based on what seemed more delicious at the moment, eventually pulling out a large, marked takeout box that just said 'kaiju squid' on the top.

Before he opened it, he felt a hand lightly smack him on the back of the head. Reno turned around, thinking that he somehow ended up waking Iharu, only to see that he was just shifting in his sleep. A hand was now exposed from its place from under the covers and was hanging limply from the bed's edge. Thinking for a moment, Reno gathered some courage and bravely placed Iharu's hand on the top of his head. In doing so, he could feel Iharu's fingers lightly twitching in his hair, almost like it was trying to brush through it in his sleep. Reno just smiled and went back to his midnight meal.

(holy fucking shit, I did it! I got this made! World, prepare to meet my first public fanfic.)

#Please let me know If I missed any spelling errors #Aoi's ass is hyper sensitive.#I headcannon that the ENTIRE third division is gay for each other and they are ALL switches #no one can stop me #I might of added some of my sober mannerisms into drunk Iharu #the looklooklook / yeahyeahyeah is very much me.#for the longest time I thought Tumblr didn't recognize the word defense.#I WAS SPELLING IT . D E F E N C E.#AND IT WOULDN'T CORRECT IT #FUCK #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 #soshiro hoshina #iharu furuhashi #reno ichikawa #aoi kaguragi #haruichi izumo #fanfic #First story (be kind)#I'll take criticism if you word it gently enough.#Some things that I just remembered.#*Reno and Iharu fighting Kaiju* *Reno takes out several single-handedly* Reno} Touch my boyfriend and Die.#*This is all taking place before the beach date btw* Iharu} “When did I hit boyfriend status????”#Reno buys a pink protection charm with Sakura blossoms on it for Iharu.#Iharu gives Reno a piggy back ride at the end of the date.#*slaps Kafka's mouth* This bad boy can open so many things! Coke bottles; wine bottles; Hoshina's legs.......#Someone told me this is courteous ->#very long post #longpost

31 notes · View notes