a simp for my hq bois

Hello everyone, I’m back!

This fic has actually been living in my head for quite a while, and somewhere along the way I started writing it mostly for my own emotional satisfaction, so I should probably apologize in advance because some scenes are shamelessly self-indulgent and written entirely for me.

I’m using Hanae again as my female OC, but if you’d prefer to imagine someone else in her place, please feel free to do so.

Hanae lay very still, as if moving too much might shatter the fragile morning around them.

Last night had started wholesomely.

The rain poured so fiercely that leaving became impossible, and it felt far more practical to stay inside her little apartment. They ate her clumsy cooking, talked and laughed, the kind of easy, comfortable evening Hanae had secretly dreamed about for months.

She had prayed for more, and with a little courage, more had come.

She had been brave in ways she never imagined she could be, crossing lines she once thought untouchable. One thing had led to another, gentle and unhurried, until the space between them disappeared entirely, replaced by warmth and the quiet certainty that neither of them wanted to stop.

And now morning had arrived, carrying the proof of it all.

The arm around her waist tightened slightly, pulling her closer on instinct, and she felt her pulse jump in response.

This was real.

The same real as the day months ago when he first said, I love you, Hanae, without hesitation.

Not a dream. Not something she had imagined in the quiet hours after missions.

She is in his arms.

Her thoughts were still tangled when she felt him shift behind her, a soft breath brushing against her shoulder.

“Good morning,” Soshiro murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

She nearly jumped.

“G–good morning,” she replied, suddenly very aware of everything at once, how close they were, how warm he felt, how her heart seemed determined to embarrass her.

He propped himself up on one elbow to look at her, hair messy in a way no one at base would ever believe.

“You look nervous,” he observed.

“I am nervous,” she admitted.

His lips curved. “That makes two of us.”

x x x

Soshiro had been awake for hours, long before the sun even thought about rising.

His mind was racing faster than a bullet train, replaying every moment he had been too afraid to examine in the dark.

Last night had been new territory, far beyond anything he had ever imagined for himself. Boundaries had been crossed, gently but undeniably, and now he felt like a newborn soldier dropped onto an unfamiliar battlefield, unsure of how to take the next step.

He was a man who planned everything, missions, routes, contingencies.

But there was no manual for waking up beside the woman he love and realizing the world had quietly changed shape.

“I am nervous,” she admitted.

That made him smile.

Thank God he wasn’t the only one.

“Soshiro-san… about last night.”

She hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his pants. “We didn’t break anything, right? We’re still… us?”

The sight of her nervousness, strangely enough, grounded him.

If she was worried too, then at least he wasn’t standing alone in this unfamiliar territory.

“Us?” he repeated.

“I mean…” She struggled for the right words. “I don’t want to lose what we already have.”

For a second he only looked at her, then his expression softened.

“Hanae,” he said quietly, “I loved you months before last night. That didn’t change between sunset and sunrise.”

Her shoulders eased.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just needed to hear it.”

He reached out and gently stilled her restless hands.

“I don’t regret anything,” he said. “Not a single moment. If anything, I regret how long it took me to stop being careful.”

Relief flooded her face.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I was brave on purpose.”

That earned a soft smile.

“I noticed.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, lighter now, warmed by certainty instead of doubt.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face with the same care he used when checking the edge of his blades, deliberate, certain, as if this, too, was something worth protecting.

“I love you, Hanae. No matter what.” he said quietly.

The promise in his voice made her chest feel impossibly warm.

Then, after a beat, that familiar mischievous glint slipped into his eyes.

“So… since that’s settled, should we review what happened last night for accuracy?”

Hanae gasped through a laugh. “You’re terrible.”

“Thorough,” he corrected.

Before she could argue, he stole a quick, playful kiss that made her forget the rest of the sentence entirely. She wrapped her arms around his neck, still laughing, and for a while the world shrank to something simple, just two people choosing each other without fear, without hesitation, without looking back.

x x x

Okonogi prided herself on noticing things.

It was practically part of her job, reading screens, reading people, reading the space between what was said and what wasn’t. She noticed when Captain Ashiro was irritated before the first meeting even started. She noticed when Vice Captain Hoshina pretended to be indifferent while very clearly not being indifferent at all.

So of course she noticed Hanae.

Hanae, who arrived that morning looking suspiciously well-rested.

Hanae, who kept adjusting the collar of a jacket that was very obviously not hers.

Hanae, who smiled a little too brightly and avoided eye contact a little too carefully.

Okonogi felt something warm settle in her chest.

It wasn’t surprise.

Surprise would have made sense months ago, back when she first started seeing the cracks in their careful professionalism. Back when the Vice Captain began bringing coffee only Hanae liked, and Hanae started volunteering for shifts she used to avoid.

Now it was simply confirmation.

“Morning,” she greeted, setting her tablet down.

“M–morning!”

Too energetic. Definitely too energetic.

Okonogi let her gaze drift, casual, unassuming. Hanae turned to set her bag on the chair, and the collar shifted just enough.

There it was.

Faint. Easy to miss. The kind of mark that could be mistaken for a shadow if one wasn’t paying attention.

Okonogi was paying attention.

Her eyes lowered to the jacket again, the long sleeves, the dark fabric, the stitched emblem she had seen a thousand times on someone else’s shoulders.

Oh.

For a second, she had to stop herself from smiling.

At that moment the doors slid open, and Vice Captain Hoshina stepped in.

He looked exactly as he always did, composed, sharp, unreadable.

Except he was wearing yesterday’s jacket.

Okonogi said nothing.

She watched the way his gaze found Hanae first, how it lingered for half a second longer than necessary, how he very deliberately looked away.

And she thought, with quiet fondness, so they had finally stopped being careful.

Okonogi had always known, in the way you know spring is coming before the air changes.

She had watched them orbit each other for months, pretending to be perfectly professional while breaking every rule in the margins.

The coffee cups left on Hanae’s desk that were never from the vending machine downstairs.

The way Hoshina suddenly remembered to eat lunch on days Hanae was too busy to leave operations.

The five-minute breaks that somehow stretched into twenty when no one was looking.

Okonogi had noticed all of it.

And she had kept quiet, not out of duty, but out of hope.

Because she loved love, loved the way it survived even in a place built on alarms and casualty reports, loved the idea that something gentle could exist beside something violent. And more than that, she loved them, Hanae with her stubborn kindness, Hoshina with his ridiculous, careful heart.

So when the pieces finally fell into place that morning, Okonogi didn’t feel shock.

She felt relief.

About time, she thought.

Later that night, the base finally exhaled.

The last of the officers trickled out of operations one by one, chairs scraping softly, lights dimming to their evening glow. What had been a noisy room of overlapping voices became a quiet pocket of humming machines and cooling screens.

Only two people remained.

Okonogi finished the final report with the steady rhythm of someone who had done this a thousand times, glasses slipping down her nose, tablet balanced against her palm. Across from her, Hoshina signed off on field logs, his posture a little less rigid than usual.

He looked tired.

Not battlefield tired.

Not wounded tired.

Just human.

For a while neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, only familiar, the kind that existed between people who had survived too many long days together.

Okonogi saved the file and leaned back in her chair.

“Vice Captain.”

“Hm?”

He didn’t look up.

She studied him for a moment, the same way she studied data before deciding what it meant. The man in front of her was still the sharp, impossible Hoshina Soshiro the division relied on. But there was something softer around the edges now, something that hadn’t been there months ago.

She liked it.

“Just so you know,” Okonogi said casually, “if the two of you ever break up, I’m keeping Hanae.”

The pen stopped moving.

Hoshina slowly lifted his head.

“…Excuse me?”

Okonogi turned at last, her expression perfectly serious.

“Custody agreement,” she said. “I’ve decided.”

Everything had gone smoothly. Orders were followed. Positions were held. No one did anything stupid. The kaiju, a magnitude seven, had been defeated without incident.

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

“Don’t move.”

His voice came out sharp as he pressed a bandage against the rookie’s stomach, blood seeping through his gloves. The orders had been clear: do not use freezing rounds. The kaiju’s body chemistry was incompatible with the compound and it would cause an internal reaction. An explosion.

Someone hadn’t listened.

“It’s… too tight, Vice Captain,” the rookie gasped, wincing as Soshiro secured the bandage.

“Bear with it,” Soshiro snapped, hands steady even as the ground trembled faintly beneath them. “You’ll thank me later.”

The battle was almost over. They were in cleanup, clearing the remaining yoju, when the explosion hit near the command center.

Too close.

“Hoshina, check the command center.”

Captain Ashiro’s voice cut through his earpiece, sharp and immediate.

“Medic will finish here,” she continued, all authority and control. “Go. Now.”

Soshiro didn’t argue. He stepped back, letting the medic take over, and sprinted toward the command center, the area that had taken the brunt of the blast. Smoke curled from shattered walls, debris lay twisted across the floor, metal beams bent like broken bones.

And for the first time in his life, Hoshina felt a cold pang of fear curl in his chest.

“Hanae-chan?!”

His voice cut through the chaos as he tore through rubble, heart hammering so loud his ears were ringing. Only three support staff had been assigned for this training—and he knew the other two were safe on the ground level.

“Hanae?!”

He tore a rubble with the remaining strenght from his suit, adrenaline screaming through his veins. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

“Here…!”

The voice was faint, barely audible.

But he heard it.

Whether it was adrenaline or the suit’s sensors, he didn’t know. He just moved. A massive slab of concrete shifted under his grip as he forced it aside, exposing the control panel.

And there she was.

Huddled on her knees beneath the debris, dust-covered but alive.

“Vice Captain,” she said, smiling weakly as she reached for his outstretched hand.

The world snapped back into focus.

He helped Hanae to her feet and immediately started scanning her body for injuries.

“I’m okay,” she said quickly. “I ducked when the explosion hit. I’m really okay.”

He didn’t listen. He couldn’t.

“Vice Captain,” she snapped suddenly, frowning. “I said I’m okay. You’re the one who needs to get checked. Your head is bleeding.”

She pressed a handkerchief against his temple, and only then did he register the sharp sting.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

But now that he knew she was safe, that the worst she had were scratches and bruises, the tension drained from his body all at once. Dizziness washed over him.

She noticed immediately.

“You really need to think about yourself more, Soshiro-san,” she said, voice gentle but firm while helping him to sit. She reached into his pouch for the first aid kit before working carefully, fingers steady as she cleaned the blood from his temple, concern clear in every moment.

The sounds of the battlefield faded into the background, replaced by the quiet rhythm of her breathing and the light brush of her touch.

“You really need to think about yourself more, Soshiro-san,” Hanae said again, quieter this time.

He did not answer. He was too busy watching her.

Her lashes were dusted with ash, a faint cut streaked across her cheek. Her hands pressed against his skin, warm and steady, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

God, she’s really beautiful.

He realized, almost with a start, that he had forgotten all about his own pain.

When she reached for more gauze, her wrist brushed his fingers.

He caught it without thinking.

Not tight. Not forceful. Just enough to still her movement.

Hanae froze. “Soshiro-san?”

He lifted her hand slowly, carefully, as if afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. Before she could speak again, he bowed his head and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist.

The kiss was brief. Barely there.

But it carried everything he had been holding back.

Fear. Relief. Gratitude. Something deeper, far more dangerous.

Hanae’s breath caught. “Vice Captain…”

He released her hand at once, as if realizing what he had done only after it was over. His eyes searched her face, apology and honesty tangled together.

“I thought I lost you,” he said quietly.

Her fingers trembled as she resumed tending his wound, though her touch softened.

“You didn’t,” she said gently. “I’m still here.”

He nodded, unable to trust his voice.

As she finished dressing the cut, her hand lingered at his cheek for a moment longer than necessary. Neither of them pulled away.

The battlefield still burned around them.

But for those few seconds, nothing existed except the warmth of her hand, the echo of his lips against her skin, and the terrifying certainty that he cared far more than he was supposed to.

x x x

The hospital room was dim, washed in the soft hum of machines and muted hallway light. Hoshina sat on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor as he try to untangle all of his thoughts.

He hated this part.

The waiting. The quiet. The thinking.

“You’re going to bore a hole through the tiles if you keep glaring at them like that.”

He looked up.

Hanae sat on the adjacent bed, hospital gown draped loosely over her frame, wrist bandaged where she had scraped it earlier. She looked tired. Bruised. Alive.

Relief loosened something tight in his chest.

“You should be resting,” he said.

“So should you,” she replied, nodding pointedly at the fresh bandage along his temple. “But here we are.”

Silence settled again, heavier this time.

“…I lost control back there,” Hoshina said quietly. “I should have caught it sooner. The explosion. The rookie. I should’ve—”

“You did everything right,” she interrupted.

He stilled.

“The rookie panicked. The explosion wasn’t on you,” she continued, voice steady. “And I ducked in time because you drilled evacuation protocols into us until we could recite them in our sleep.”

That made him glance back at her.

“…You listened?”

“Always,” she said simply.

Something in her tone undid him.

He looked away again, swallowing. “I crossed a line,” he said. “Back there. When I—”

“When you kissed my wrist?”

He froze.

Hanae met his gaze, calm but honest, cheeks faintly pink. “I’m not upset.”

“That doesn’t make it acceptable,” he said immediately. “You’re under my command. I shouldn’t have let—”

“I know who you are, Soshiro,” she said gently. “You don’t do things lightly. You don’t touch what you don’t mean.”

His breath caught.

“I don’t regret it,” she added, softer now. “I just… needed to know what it meant.”

He stood before he realized he was moving.

“I was terrified,” he said, voice low. “When I thought I lost you, something broke. And I don’t know how to put it back where it was.”

Her heart raced. “Then don’t.”

The space between them shrank.

“Hanae,” he murmured, hesitation warring with want. “If I do this… it won’t be a mistake.”

She reached for his hand.

“Good,” she said. “I don’t want it to be.”

He leaned in slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile quiet between them. His hand hovered at her waist, not quite touching, waiting. Asking.

Hanae answered by curling her fingers into the fabric of his sleeve.

That was all the permission he needed.

His lips brushed hers first, barely there, a breath more than a kiss. Warm. Uncertain. Like he was memorizing the feeling before daring to take more. When she didn’t pull away, when she tilted her head just slightly, his restraint finally gave way.

The kiss deepened, slow and careful. Not desperate, not rushed. It was not fireworks or dizzying colors, but something warmer, softer, a tenderness that felt so real.

His hand settled at her waist at last, steady and protective, thumb pressing lightly as if to reassure himself that she was real..

When he finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling.

“I love you, Soshiro-san,” she whispered.

For a moment, the hospital room disappeared.

There was only the quiet, steady beat of his heart, and the overwhelming certainty that whatever line he had crossed, he never wanted to return to the side where she was not.

“I love you, Hanae.”

x x x

A soft cough sounded from the doorway.

They broke apart instantly.

Okonogi stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, the corner of her mouth twitching. Behind her, Captain Ashiro paused mid-step, gaze flicking between the two of them with sharp accuracy.

“…Well,” Okonogi said lightly. “That answers a few questions.”

Ashiro exhaled, unimpressed but not surprised. “Hospital. You two have no shame.”

Hoshina straightened, already bracing for consequences.

Ashiro’s tone softened. “You both alive?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hanae replied.

“Good,” Ashiro said. Then, after a beat, “Try not to make me file extra paperwork.”

She turned and left.

Okonogi lingered just long enough to grin. “Told you those ‘five-minute breaks’ weren’t subtle.”

Hanae buried her face in her hands.

Hoshina, for once, didn’t deny it.

Chapter 1: Attraction

Chapter 2: Uncertainty

Chapter 3: Acknowledgement

She and Okonogi had planned to visit the festival together, a celebration held in honor of the soldiers who had fallen during the battle with No. 9. It was meant to commemorate their bravery and remind civilians that peace, however fragile, had been hard-earned.

It might have been a small effort, but Hanae thought it was working. Laughter drifted through the air. Children darted between stalls, sticky fingers clutching sweets, their excitement contagious. Lanterns glowed warmly overhead, and for the first time in a long while, it felt as though the country was standing on its feet again.

“Hey miss, are you alone? Want to hang out with us?”

The voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see three unfamiliar men standing far too close for comfort. Hanae frowned and took a step back.

“I’m not,” she said coldly. “I’m waiting for someone.”

She expected that to be the end of it.

Instead, the man in the center, the alpha of the group, stepped forward and reached for her arm.

“Oh come on,” he said, his grip tightening. “You’ve been standing here for a while. Why not enjoy the festival with us instead of waiting around?”

Hanae tried to pull away, her balance slipping.

An arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, steady and protective, pulling her back before she could fall.

“Geez, youngsters these days don’t seem to know what no means anymore.”

His smile was light, almost amused, yet there was something sharp beneath it, a warning that made Hanae’s pulse jump.

The men froze. One look was enough. They backed away with scowls and disappeared into the crowd. Even without his uniform, Soshiro Hoshina carried an aura that made others think twice.

“Are you okay, Hanae-chan?”

He looked down at her, worry written plainly across his face.

Her emotions crashed over her all at once. Confusion, because she had not expected him. Relief, because without him the situation could have turned ugly. And nervousness, because standing in front of her was not Okonogi, but him.

“Ah… yes,” she said softly. “Thank you, Vice Captain.”

“Soshiro,” he said gently. “Just Soshiro. We are off duty right now.”

She swallowed. “Right. Of course. Thank you, Soshiro-san.”

Her words faded as she really looked at him.

He looked unfairly good. Always commanding in uniform, but seeing him in casual clothes felt… different. Intimate, in a way that made her chest tighten. This was the man who had been living in her thoughts for weeks.

“Okonogi-chan asked me to apologize for leaving you,” Hoshina said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She was called to headquarters, so I offered to take her place. Sorry I am late. Parking was terrible.”

Hanae swallowed.

“It’s alright,” she replied. “Thank you for coming with me, Soshiro-san.”

I should have worn something else, she thought, suddenly aware of how much skin she was showing. But thank goodness… I actually look good today.

“Shall we?” Hoshina asked, holding out his arm.

She hesitated, then smiled.

“Come on,” he added with a quiet laugh. “I do not want to spend the day searching for you in the crowd.”

Hanae laughed softly and threaded her arm through his.

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman, Soshiro-san.”

He stiffened, his posture tightening just enough for her to feel it through their linked arms.

She noticed.

And her heart fluttered in a way that felt dangerous and wonderful all at once.

x x x

The festival buzzed with warmth and music, lantern light spilling across the streets like something out of a dream. Hanae’s eyes sparkled as she took it all in, excitement bubbling up at the lively atmosphere.

“Ooh… I want to try that!” she exclaimed, pointing toward a shooting game stall. Before Soshiro could react, she was tugging him toward it.

The vendor greeted them with a wide smile. “Step right up! Just hit the target and win your pretty girlfriend a cute prize!” He waved a stuffed toy in front of Soshiro, clearly trying to encourage him.

“N… no, we’re not—” Hanae blurted, cheeks heating. After all, this was her Vice Captain. She felt flustered at the idea of him being teased like that.

“Oho, very well,” Soshiro said, his voice calm but playful. “I shall take that offer.”

Before Hanae could protest further, he paid the vendor and accepted a toy rifle. Hanae’s eyes widened. He held it effortlessly, posture perfect as he aimed at the target.

Click. Bang. Bullseye.

Hanae blinked in surprise. “Whoa! That was… so cool!”

Soshiro handed the stuffed prize to her with a faint smile. “For you.”

Her fingers brushed his briefly as she accepted it, and her heart fluttered. “Th-thank you…” she stammered.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, eyes briefly catching hers, and in that glance, Hanae felt a warmth she could not explain.

She looked down at the toy, then back at him. “You… really didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he replied simply, his expression calm, but Hanae could see the small spark of amusement in his eyes.

And just like the bullseyes at the shooting game, Hanae realized something with startling clarity.

This was not some fleeting, childish crush. Not the kind that came and went with a glance or a joke.

It was real.

For the first time, she allowed herself to admit it quietly, to herself, under the golden glow of festival lanterns, surrounded by laughter and color:

She liked him. She liked him more than she ever thought she could.

x x x

Soshiro Hoshina liked to think of himself as a logical man.

He did not make decisions based on emotion. He followed procedure, weighed risks, exercised restraint. His self-discipline was exemplary, or so the psychological evaluations liked to remind him.

“Thanks, Vice Captain. I really owe you one,” Okonogi said with a chuckle as she hurried off. “Or maybe you're the one who owes me now.”

Hoshina remained where he was, watching her leave, momentarily dumbfounded.

Because for the first time in his life, he had let desire make a decision for him.

When he heard that Okonogi and Hanae were scheduled to attend the festival together, and that Okonogi had been forced to cancel at the last minute, Hoshina volunteered without thinking. He told himself it was practical. Efficient. Someone needed to accompany Hanae.

That was what he told himself.

Standing beside her now, he knew the truth.

He was glad he had come.

“Thank you, Soshiro-san, for coming with me,” Hanae said, smiling up at him.

And there it was again.

The stupid butterflies.

They fluttered relentlessly in his chest, just like they had for weeks now. He had tried to stamp them out, ignore them, rationalize them away. None of it worked, especially not when she smiled at him like that.

As they moved through the festival together, Hoshina learned two things about himself.

First, he liked it when she held his arm. Far more than he should.

Second, he absolutely despised it when other men noticed her.

When he had arrived earlier and seen three men crowding her, making her uncomfortable, it had taken every ounce of his restraint not to act immediately. His anger had been sharp, instinctive, dangerous.

And now, barely minutes later, he had stepped away only long enough to buy food.

That was all it took.

He turned just in time to see a stranger lean closer, smiling too easily, saying something that made Hanae laugh.

Something in Hoshina snapped.

“You can keep the change,” he said curtly, shoving money toward the vendor as he grabbed the food. He moved quickly, long strides eating up the distance between them.

He caught the end of the man’s sentence as he approached.

“—are you alone? Maybe we could walk around together?”

The man’s tone was casual, practiced. Too practiced.

Hoshina slowed his steps, forcing his expression into something neutral even as irritation curled tight in his chest. He came to a stop beside Hanae, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

“She isn’t.”

His voice was calm, almost polite. That made it worse.

Hanae looked up, surprised. “Soshiro-san?”

He inclined his head slightly, eyes never leaving the man in front of them. “Sorry to interrupt. We were in the middle of something.”

The stranger laughed awkwardly. “Oh, I didn’t realize—”

“That’s all right,” Hoshina replied, already dismissing him. “You do now.”

There was no threat in his words, no raised voice. Just certainty.

The man took a step back, muttered something under his breath, and disappeared into the flow of the crowd.

Only then did Hoshina turn to Hanae.

“Are you okay?” he asked, softer now.

She nodded, blinking. “Yes. I was just—he was talking, that’s all.”

Hoshina exhaled slowly. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, checking. She really was fine.

Good.

That was when he noticed it.

The way people nearby glanced her way. The way a few looks lingered, curious, appreciative, far too comfortable.

He did not like that at all.

“You’re cold,” he said suddenly.

Hanae blinked up at him. “What? I’m fine—”

He was already shrugging out of his jacket.

“Here,” he said, draping it over her shoulders before she could protest. His movements were practiced, careful, fingers lingering just long enough as he adjusted the fabric so it sat properly. “Put this on.”

“Soshiro-san, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I want to.”

She hesitated, then slipped her arms into the sleeves. The jacket swallowed her, warm and familiar, carrying his scent with it. Something in his chest tightened at the sight.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”

Hoshina held her gaze a moment longer than he should have.

That was when he realized it, with unsettling clarity. His grip on restraint was slipping, little by little. And for the first time, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to pull it back.

Chapter 1: Attraction

Chapter 2: Uncertainty

She noticed details people tended to miss. She guessed the twists of movies halfway through, long before the climax unraveled. She noticed when cadets skipped drills or tried to half-ass their training, when candidates lied through clenched teeth, when excuses didn’t quite line up.

And lately, she noticed her Vice Captain.

It started small. A greeting in the hallway—his voice reaching her before she even saw him. A casual wave across the cafeteria, chopsticks paused midair as if he’d been waiting to catch her eye. Then came the jokes, light and effortless, always aimed at her, always leaving her flustered in a way she pretended not to notice.

She noticed how he always offered to carry her things, even when her arms weren’t full. How he matched his pace to hers without comment. How, during training, he always seemed to look for her; just for a second, eyes brushing past her like a habit he hadn’t realized he’d formed, subtle enough to deny, consistent enough to notice.

She noticed that whenever her work stretched late into the night, when the base grew quiet and the hum of fluorescent lights became unbearable, he would appear at her cubicle as if on cue.

He always brought coffee. The same kind, every time—not too hot, sugar, and a splash of cream, setting it beside her keyboard with practiced familiarity, as if it had always been his place to do so.

When she didn’t notice right away, too absorbed in glowing screens and numbers that refused to make sense, he’d gently nudge her chair back with his knee or brush his fingers against her sleeve, just enough to pull her out of her thoughts.

Leaning against the partition, he’d smile faintly, voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

“Take a break,” he’d say. “Just five minutes, Hanae. Don’t burn yourself out.”

And she noticed the worst part of all.

Every time she thought about these small changes, her heart skipped—once, sometimes twice.

I know that I like Hoshina-san… but does he like me too?

The thought haunted her as she lay awake in her bunk, staring at the gray concrete ceiling of the dorm. The room was silent except for distant footsteps and the faint mechanical pulse of the base. It felt ridiculous. The world was fighting monsters. People were getting hurt—dying—on the battlefield.

And here she was, unable to sleep because of a stupid crush on the Vice Captain of her division.

Maybe he’s just being nice.

She clutched her blanket tighter, as if grounding herself would make the thought go away.

But what if—

Don’t be stupid, Hanae.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, as though the motion alone could scatter the idea. Hoshina-san was kind. Thoughtful. Someone who genuinely cared about his squad. That was who he was—who he’d always been.

Besides, she told herself, he probably didn’t even have the headspace to think about something as useless as love.

Still, despite her logic, her heart refused to listen.

And Hanae noticed that too.

x x x

Hoshina had always prided himself on awareness.

Battlefields demanded it. Reading the flow of combat, anticipating mistakes, noticing hesitation before it turned fatal; those instincts had kept him alive, had kept his squad alive. He noticed everything. Or at least, he thought he did.

So when his attention started drifting, when his eyes found Hanae before his mind could catch up, he told himself it was nothing.

She was support. Important. Reliable. Someone who worked too hard and slept too little. Of course he checked on her. That was his responsibility.

Still, he greeted her first without thinking. In the hallway, in passing, his voice leaving his mouth before he could stop it. He waved at her in the cafeteria, chopsticks hovering uselessly as he waited for her to look up. He joked with her, too much, maybe, but she always reacted so honestly, flustered in a way that felt… grounding.

He carried her things because it made sense. Matched his pace to hers because slowing down for others was normal. During training, his gaze flicked to the sidelines more often than necessary, checking that she was where she should be, taking notes, paying attention. Safe.

“Vice Captain,” one of the officers muttered once, following his line of sight. “You looking for something?”

Hoshina blinked and looked away.

“…No,” he said, too quickly.

At night, it was worse.

He told himself he was just making rounds. That stopping by support was part of leadership. But somehow, he always ended up at her cubicle when the lights dimmed and the base grew quiet.

He remembered how she took her coffee without meaning to. Sugar and a splash of cream. Not too hot. He set it down beside her keyboard like it was second nature.

Okonogi glanced at the cup in his hand as they passed in the corridor one night, her expression unreadable at first—then faintly amused.

“Vice Captain,” she said lightly. “That’s the third time this week.”

Hoshina didn’t slow. “She forgets to eat.”

“Mmm,” Okonogi hummed. “And everyone else in support?”

He paused for half a beat. Just long enough.

“They’re fine.”

Okonogi smiled, small and knowing, but didn’t push further.

When Hanae didn’t notice him right away, lost in screens and numbers, he nudged her chair back gently or brushed her sleeve, brief and careful, like touching something fragile. He leaned against the partition, kept his voice low.

“Take a break,” he’d say. “Just five minutes. Don’t burn yourself out.”

She always listened. Eventually.

And every time she looked up at him, eyes a little tired, a little surprised, something in his chest shifted uncomfortably.

“You’re awfully attentive,” someone remarked during a briefing once. “Support get promoted without us knowing?”

Hoshina laughed it off. “I take care of my squad.”

No one argued. But the looks they exchanged said enough.

Later, alone in his quarters, staring at the ceiling, Hoshina replayed the day like he did for his missions. Too many glances. Too many excuses. Too much care focused on one person.

This was stupid.

The world was ending. Monsters didn’t care about feelings. People died when leaders lost focus. He didn’t have room for distractions—especially not ones that made his heart slow every time she smiled at him.

You’re just being considerate, he told himself. That’s all.

Still, when morning came, he grabbed two coffees without thinking.

And somewhere deep down, he noticed that too.

Chapter 3: Acknowledgement

It was one of those nights—the kind that stretched endlessly no matter how much he typed, signed, or filed. Paperwork towered over his desk like a second mountain range.

Ever since the fight with No.9, reconstruction at Tachikawa Base had been nonstop. Now, with recruitment season underway, Soshiro felt as though his sanity would soon be thrown out the window.

He hated it. He would rather fight a horde of kaiju than rot in his office chair.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Good evening, Vice Commander. I’ve brought the third batch of applications.”

He stifled a groan, cleared his throat, and told the staff member to come in.

When the door opened, something unexpected slipped into the room—a fragrance, delicate and unfamiliar. Light, floral, with a woody undertone. It stood in sharp contrast to the base’s usual smell of metal, coffee, antiseptic, blood, and the fishy stench of kaiju carcasses. He had grown used to those odors; they were part of the war effort. But her scent… it was disarming.

Soothing.

“Vice Commander? Is something wrong?” she asked, uneasy at his silence.

“No, of course. Everything’s fine, Ms…” He faltered. Tachikawa was enormous, housing thousands of staff. After No.9’s devastation, the endless reassignments blurred names and faces.

“Hanae,” she said with a polite smile. “I was with the 4th Division, but I’ve been transferred here. I’m now with Human Resources and Operations.”

Soshiro nodded, managing a faint smile of his own.

“It’s a pleasure, Hanae. I hope you’re settling well into the 3rd Division.”

x x x

The second thing he noticed about her was her laugh.

After their first encounter, Soshiro’s world seemed to grow smaller. Wherever he went, she was there.

Not that he was complaining.

It was… nice. The small greetings in the hallway, the polite smiles exchanged in passing, and the way her scent reached him before she did—familiar now, comforting, a quiet reminder that she was near.

“Okonogi-san, you really need to take a break. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

It was well past midnight when Soshiro did his rounds, making sure the rookies had returned to their quarters. That’s when he heard a familiar voice coming from the laboratory, where Okonogi, the operations leader, often stayed.

Curious, he stepped inside.

The hum of machines filled the air. Two women sat huddled before a glowing monitor.

“Good evening, Vice Commander,” they both greeted.

He nodded back, stealing a quick glance at Hanae before asking, “What are you two up to?”

Okonogi let out a laugh and pushed her oversized glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Well, Vice Commander, are you ready to have your mind blown?”

She gestured proudly at Hanae.

“My brilliant assistant here figured out the issue with No.12 and Commander Hoshina’s compatibility.”

Soshiro’s gaze flicked to Hanae, his brows rising in genuine surprise. No.12. He still remembered the crushing weight of that battle—how his body had screamed in pain, as if all 206 of his bones had been broken. They had kept the kaiju for research, but it had proven volatile, leaving researchers stumped.

And now… she had found a way forward?

“She did?” His voice carried more admiration than he intended. “That’s… incredible.”

He meant it. With this breakthrough, they could finally move to the next stage.

“Right?” Okonogi said, practically bouncing.

“We were just talking, and out of nowhere, she solved the missing piece! I can't wait to report this to Headquarters!”

“Okonogi-san, please,” Hanae protested with a soft, embarrassed laugh. “It was only a suggestion. We don’t even know if it will work.”

“Suggestion or not, it’s brilliant,” Okonogi insisted, throwing her arms around Hanae. “I’m so glad you transferred here.”

Hanae laughed again, gentle and warm, like a summer breeze. Soft and unassuming, it lingered without demanding attention. Soshiro found himself smiling, too, despite the weight of the hour and the exhaustion in his bones.

“You’re embarrassing me, Okonogi-san,” Hanae said, cheeks tinged pink.

x x x

Days and weeks passed. Simple greetings and polite salutations turned into casual conversations; inside jokes were shared, and Soshiro now knew how she liked her coffee better than he knew his own preferences.

What began as simple curiosity had shifted into something more. He wouldn’t admit it outright, but he really liked having her around.

She was efficient, sharp, and always ahead of deadlines. She prioritized tasks with ease, her reports were color-coded, and she had organized all his files in a single sitting—because she couldn’t stand how they weren’t alphabetically arranged. In the end, she made his life easier.

“Of course it’s Commander for me. Her cold demeanor is one for the books,” a rookie laughed.

It was idle chatter among the new recruits in the common shower room. Hoshina hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. It wasn’t in his nature to linger on useless banter; but his interest sparked when someone asked the question: If you had the chance, who would you date?

Naturally, Captain Ashiro was at the top of the list.

“Well, for me it’s Hanae-san,” another rookie chimed in. “I really like how calm she sounds when giving instructions—and she’s beautiful, too.”

Hoshina frowned. He couldn’t place why, but he disliked how freely they spoke of Hanae. Still… he couldn’t deny the truth in their words. Hanae was beautiful. There was no arguing that.

“Me too,” another added quickly. “Hanae-san is amazing. She smells so good, and the way she smiles—so cute. I want to ask her out on a date someday.”

Hoshina’s jaw tightened. He agreed, but he hated every second of hearing it. How dare they talk about her like they know her? How dare they think of asking her out?

“Aren’t you guys idling a little too long?” His voice cut through the room, deceptively light but edged with venom.

“W-we’re sorry, Vice Commander!” they stammered in unison, scrambling to dress and flee.

Hoshina caught one straggler—the very one who had spoken about asking Hanae out. His hand clamped down hard on the rookie’s shoulder.

“And you’re still a baby chick,” he said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re far from thinking about dating.”

“Y-yes, Vice Commander! I’m sorry, Vice Commander!” The rookie’s voice shook, terror flooding his face. To him, Hoshina’s gaze was as terrifying as the kaiju they had fought the night before. His grip was so tight that the boy swore his shoulder might snap.

That night, alone, Hoshina found his thoughts drifting. Why did it bother him so much? Why did the idea of Hanae dating someone else gnaw at him? Why… did it feel like jealousy?

Chapter 2: Uncertainty