ReservedLibra

Fanfics:

A Story Worth Breaking

Fandom: Kaiju no. 8

Pairing: Kafka Hibino x female OC (Ren Teira)

Rating: M

Genre: Romance, drama, suspense

Status: Complete

Spotify Playlist

Summary: As an investigative journalist, Ren Teira has always relied on the truth. But her latest story, a deep dive into the identity of Kaiju No. 8, is full of dead ends. When a chance encounter at a convenience store leads her to Kafka Hibino, she finds a man who is kind, funny, charming, and surprisingly knowledgeable about her work. As they grow closer, Ren must decide which she values more: the truth she's chasing or the man she's falling in love with.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 🔥

Chapter 13 🔥

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Something Like Home

Fandom: Kaiju no. 8

Pairing: Kafka Hibino x female OC (Ren Teira)

Rating: M

Genre: Slice of life, romance

Status: Ongoing

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Summary: This is a slice-of-life continuation of my previous fanfic, "A Story Worth Breaking." It follows the burgeoning romance between Kafka Hibino and Ren Teira. With the prior conflict resolved, the story now shifts its focus to the quiet, intimate moments that define their new life together. We follow them through the seasons, from their first holidays as a couple, to the significant milestones of moving in together and meeting each other's families. We explores their deep emotional and physical connection, as they learn to navigate their feelings and vulnerabilities. This story emphasizes how their love is a safe space for each of them, a place where they can be vulnerable, overcome past insecurities, and build a future together.

Chapter 1 🔥

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 🔥

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 🔥

Chapter 8 🔥

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 🔥 (some)

Chapter 13 🔥

Chapter 14 🔥

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 16: What's Bojangles?

Kafka peered out of the tiny window with heavy eyelids. Twilight was on the horizon and glittering lights from the city's skyline came into view. As the plane began it's descent to the runway, he caught a glimpse of what he imagined was the city center. It was nowhere near the size of Tokyo, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless.

I am ready to get off this damn plane. My ass is killing me.

How much time had they spent in the air? To Kafka, it felt like three days had passed. The flight from Tokyo to their layover in Atlanta was nearly thirteen hours. After hanging out at Hartsfield-Jackson airport for about two hours, they had loaded back into a much smaller plane and headed north.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Charlotte Douglas International Airport in the lovely Charlotte, North Carolina. The local time is six-twelve PM," the pilot announced over the speakers. "Current weather is a comfortable fifty-nine degrees with mostly clear skies. Please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened until the captain has turned off the 'Fasten Seatbelt' sign."

"Ugh, finally," Kafka groaned. He looked over at Ren, taking notice of the anxiety in her expression. "You okay? If anyone should be nervous it should be me."

She shook her head and smiled before averting her gaze to her phone. "No. I'm just exhausted."

"Same. We technically went back in time by almost a day, so I think it's more than reasonable to be tired."

Ren's fingers tapped away at her phone screen as the plane taxied down the tarmac. "Just texting my dad to let him know we landed safely. He's scheduled an Uber to take us home. He knows how worn out we'll be after a sixteen hour flight."

"How thoughtful," he murmured. Kafka didn't know how far Ren's parents lived from the airport, but feeling a bit claustrophobic, he would be okay with walking at this point.

Seemingly reading his mind, Ren shoved her phone back into her purse and answered his question. "It's about a forty minute drive from the airport, so not too much longer."

****

Ren and Kafka deplaned, gathered their luggage at the pick up area and headed toward the designated pick-up area. The airport was bustling with people presumably heading in and out to visit family for Thanksgiving. As they stepped through the automatic sliding doors, they were met with a slightly chilly breeze. The temperature was a bit warmer than Tokyo this time of year, which was a pleasant surprise for Kafka.

"Over there," Ren said, pointing toward a champagne colored sedan. "That should be it."

"I hope all of this stuff will fit," he doubted as they towed their respective rolling suitcases down the sidewalk. He slowed down beside the car, ready to open the trunk.

Ren kept walking past the vehicle, then turned around and giggled. "No, this way." She nodded toward a sleek, black SUV parked behind the tiny sedan. "It's this one."

Kafka's mouth parted slightly, only managing to muster an "Oh…" before following suit.

She waved at the driver behind the dark tinted window of the Cadillac Escalade. A large, middle-aged man wearing a suit stepped out and greeted them. He smiled stiffly and spoke to Ren in English, motioning to the lift gate as it opened automatically. She responded to him in English and did a slight bow. Kafka had never heard Ren speak English before. It all felt so…foreign. She gestured for him to bring the luggage to the back, breaking him free of his trance.

The Uber driver took both of their suitcases, piling them neatly in the spacious trunk before pressing a button to close the lift gate. Ren followed the portly man to the other side of the car and nodded in thanks as he opened the back door for her. She hopped in and to the other side, motioning for Kafka to get in and have a seat.

The scent of leather and expensive aftershave permeated the cabin. Jet black quilted leather captain seats were accented by carbon fiber panels. A large panoramic roof ran nearly the length of the vehicle, showcasing the concrete ceiling of the airport breezeway.

The driver climbed into the drivers seat and put the car in drive. "My name is Frank and I'll be your driver tonight, Miss Teira," Ren translated after Hugh introduced himself. "Please let me know if there is any way I can make your ride more comfortable."

"Thank you, Hugh. We're just thankful to be off the plane," she responded in kind after buckling her seatbelt.

"Of course," Hugh replied. "Please help yourselves to anything you'd like from the basket."

Kafka looked at the basket hanging neatly from the back of the center console. There was an assortment of snacks and drinks, including Biscoff cookies, imported chocolate, and two bottles of Perrier.

Holy shit, this is fancy.

"Thank you," Ren declared, grabbing a pack of Biscoffs and a Perrier.

"Is it…okay to eat in here?" Kafka asked, unsure. "I mean, I don't want to spill anything."

She took a sip of carbonated water and reassured him. "It's fine. How much damage can one do with fizzy water and cookies, anyway?"

****

Kafka stared out the window of the Cadillac as the chauffeur tapped the steering wheel in silence and Ren scrolled on her phone. The sun had nearly set, painting the darkening sky with pinkish-orange streaks. Buildings became fewer the futher they traveled down the highway and away from the city. From what he could make out in the growing darkness, they were surrounded by fields and trees on either side, with a random house or gas station popping up here and there.

He glanced down at his phone and tapped the screen, which read seven-forty five. He wondered what time it was back home. His body was vibrating and his head felt like it was full of thick pudding.

I guess this would be jet lag.

Other than sporadic naps on the long flight from Japan, Kakfa hadn't had a full night's sleep since the night before they left. That morning, they both kissed Raja on the head goodbye (Koko had snubbed them to go lay on the couch) before heading out the door. Ren had given Kaori a spare key at work earlier in the week so she could stay and take care of the cats while they were away.

"We'll be there in about ten minutes," Frank announced, breaking Kafka out of his sleepy stupor. He looked over to Ren, who had translated for him before slipping her phone into her purse.

"Not too much longer. How are you feeling? Nervous?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not really. More tired than anything else. I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Ren smiled and grabbed his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "Same. That's jet lag for you. I dunno about you, but I'm also ready for a hot meal. Chips, crackers and beef jerky are not it."

Kafka began to salivate thinking about how a steaming bowl of rice and some hot karaage would really hit the spot right now.

"They—my parents—went and got some food so we didn't have to stop," she commented. "I hope you're okay with fried chicken. They want to initiate you with Bojangle's."

"Bo…what?" he queried.

"Boh-jane-gulz," she pronounced it slowly before chuckling. "It's a fast food place. You'll like it."

He patted his stomach, which growled in response. "I think I would like anything that's not airport food at this point."

He glanced out the window as the driver turned onto a quiet street. A brick sign illustrated with a sail boat seemed to welcome them before the road split, a grassy divider separating each lane. Large houses with spacious, well-manicured lawns were dimly lit by street lights.

Suddenly, Kafka's weariness faded away as reality began to set in.

I'm here. I'm really in America. And I'm about to meet Ren's parents.

Here they were, halfway around the world, sixteen hours from home and everything he's ever known, in a land where he barely understood their language, much less their customs. He'd never felt so small in his entire life, and that terrified him.

The houses grew bigger and more ornate the deeper they ventured into the neighborhood. He swallowed, unsure of what to expect. He knew everything there was to know about Ren, but when it came to her parents, she tended to be vague. He couldn't quite put his finger on why she had been so cryptic, but now it made sense. He knew she came from money, but even this much was unexpected.

The Cadillac slowed down and eventually turned into the driveway of a brick house with a hipped roof. Large windows sat on either side of the dark French doors adorned with frosted glass. A three car garage was connected at an angle on the right side of the house. As the vehicle came to a halt, a light flipped on and emanated from one of the windows.

Frank put the car in park and hopped out, opening the door for Ren as the lift gate rose in the back. She placed her hand in his as he assisted her out of the vehicle. He glanced at Kafka, who was still taking in the scenery.

"It's okay, he can get his own door," Ren spoke up in perfect English. "If you wouldn't mind…" she suggested, nodding toward the trunk. The short driver nodded quickly before stepping to the trunk to get the luggage. She closed the door and walked around to the back passenger side as Kafka opened it, mouth agape.

"This is…" he stuttered, struggling to come up with the right words. "This is…really nice."

Ren huffed in amusement as his sneakers hit the cool concrete. "I must say, it's weird seeing you at a loss for words."

He jerked his head toward her and narrowed his eyes. "Smart ass."

"You love it," she giggled before standing on her tip toes to give him a peck on the lips. "And they will love you."

Frank stepped from the back of the SUV, luggage in each hand and a duffle bag over his shoulder.

"I guess that's our cue," she sighed, grabbing one of the rolling suitcases. "Thank you, Frank. I think we can take it from here."

"Of course, Miss Teira. It was my pleasure," he replied before handing the remaining luggage to Kafka. "I hope you both have a wonderful evening."

They made their way to the front door, which was now open. A petite woman with dark hair in a tight bun stood in the doorway. Light pink linen pants peeked out from her plush white robe. Her face was slightly aged, decorated with a few fine lines, and sans makeup. Once they were within eyesight, she mouthed something behind her before opening the door with a beaming white smile.

"Ren-chan, watashi no chiisana onna no ko!" (*Ren, my little girl!) she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her daughter then stepping back. "I'm so glad you made it safely. Anata o misasete kudasai." (*Let me look at you.) The small woman examined Ren with subtle scrutiny before noticing Kafka lurking in the background. "Oh! You must be Kafka. Randy and I have heard quite a lot about you."

Kafka bowed awkwardly while holding the heavy luggage. "The one and only. It's nice to meet you…"

She bowed quickly in return. "Yuki-san is fine," she interjected. "And likewise. Just a moment, let me get Randy to help with the bags." Before she could turn around, a tall man with broad shoulders approached from behind. Looking a bit more down to earth, he wore a white t-shirt and red flannel pants. Shaggy auburn hair with gray streaks crowned his head. Deep green eyes hid behind a pair of rectangular glasses. Deep wrinkles lined his forehead and matching smile lines curved at the edges of his mouth, which was topped with a thick mustache.

"Hey, darlin'," he said warmly, taking Ren into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "We've missed you. He pulled away and looked toward Kafka, who was struggling to read the man's expression. Japanese mothers didn't intimidate Kafka. While Westerners often found Asian women hard to read, Kafka grew up surrounded by them and knew the secret language of each facial expression (he could thank his many aunts and older cousins). However, when it came to Ren's dad Randy, a pure-blooded American man, Kafka was clueless.

Randy stepped past Ren and over to Kafka, momentarily locking eyes, which was considered rude in Japanese culture. Before he could look away, Randy extended his hand. "Watashi wa Randy desu. Wa jimemashite," (*I'm Randy. It's nice to meet you.) he greeted in heavily accented Japanese.

Kafka started to bow and then held out his hand, never breaking eye contact. Randy gripped it tightly and gave it a firm shake. "It's nice to meet you, too. I'm Kafka," he replied nervously in Japanese.

"Don't worry," Yuki tittered. "He can understand it just fine. His speaking, however, is…less to be desired. Feel free to speak Japanese or English while you're here."

He let out a sigh of relief. It felt like everyone was a step ahead because Kafka barely understood English, much less knew how to speak it.

I really should've practiced more, he mentally scolded himself.

"Iit's a bit chilly out. Y'all come on in," Randy insisted, taking the suitcase from his daughter. "You can stay in one of the guest rooms, if you like. The one on the west side of the house has the prettiest view of the lake, in my opinion. Don't worry, I won't make y'all stay in your old room, Scoot."

Ren rolled her eyes as she followed her parents into the corridor, leaving Kafka lingering in the doorway. "Daddy, please don't call me that. No embarrassing nicknames or stories, remember? We talked about this."

The large man chuckled as he wheeled the suitcase toward a spiral staircase. "It's not embarrassing, not to me. You'll always be my little girl."

"Ughhhh…" she protested before looking back at Kafka, who seemed a bit lost. "You coming?"

He quickly shook his head, still trying to shake off the jetlag. "Yeah, sorry." He was curious how his girlfriend had earned the name Scoot and made a mental note to ask about it later.

As he entered the spacious home, an unfamiliar scent wafted through the air. It was heavy but welcoming at the same time, with just a hint of spice. He inhaled deeply as his brain tried to register the familiarity, which only made his stomach rumble.

"Oh, I figured y'all would be hungry, so I had DoorDash bring some Bojangles. It got here a few minutes before y'all did, so it should still be nice and hot," Randy explained. He outstretched his hand, offering to take the luggage from Kafka. "I'll take that on up so y'all can eat. That sure is a long flight and I know you're raring to eat and get some rest."

Before he could protest, Ren's dad gently plucked the suitcase handle from Kafka's hand, slung the carry on over his shoulder and headed up the stairs.

Yuki had already disappeared into the kitchen while Ren and Kafka took off their shoes and slipped on some house shoes by the doorway.

"No genkan, but the custom still remains," Ren joked, sitting her purse on the foyer table. "Let's go eat."

Their feet barely made a sound on the sand-colored marble floor as they headed toward the kitchen. Several white bags and a plastic jug full of brown liquid rested on a curved bar with dark granite countertops. Yellow boxes with red writing butted up against the jug of mystery liquid.

Kafka had no idea what was in any of the containers, but it smelled heavenly.

"Oh my god, it's been so long," Ren exclaimed as she washed her hands. After rinsing she popped open one of the boxes and pulled out what looked to be some sort of flat, textured roll. She took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring it.

"Those are called biscuits," Yuki chimed, appearing from the adjacent hallway. "I know biscuits are more like cookies in Japan, but here they are something else entirely." She pointed toward the open box. "They're very good, but not good for you. I tell Randy that he doesn't need to eat them so often because of his high blood pressure, but does he listen to me? No."

Now he was really intrigued. He washed his hands and dried them, placing the hand towel neatly back on the handle of the dishwasher. He grabbed one of the biscuits, which was still warm, and inspected it for a few seconds before taking a bite.

Kafka was overwhelmed. His pallette was embraced by soft, flaky and savory all at once. It was like eating a warm, buttery cloud. There was definitely a lot more salt than what he was used to, but he didn't care. Before he knew it, he had wolfed it down in three bites, and already craved another.

"I figured you'd like it," Ren jabbed.

"Like? More like love. I've never had anything like it!" he exulted, grabbing another from the box.

"Don't get full on them," Ren gently teased as she peeked into the bags and other boxes. "There's more where that came from. Looks like…fried chicken, chicken biscuits, mac and cheese, green beans, dirty rice, and…ah, yes! Boberry biscuits."

"We weren't sure what Kafka liked, so we ordered a little bit of everything," Yuki noted.

"I'm not picky," he explained. "All of this looks really good. Thank you."

****

The excitement of being in a different country began to wear off as jet lag and lack of sleep crept in. Kafka and Ren were both stuffed and ready to lie down in a full-on carb coma. He followed her up the spiral staircase, then to the left down the hallway and into a large bedroom with a king sized bed. The walls were painted a pale bluish-green and decorated with paintings of what he assumed was Lake Norman. Their luggage sat neatly on a chaise by the large bay window that peered out onto the lake. A handful of lights bobbed in the distance, probably people taking advantage of the clear night to stargaze on their boats out on the lake.

Ren quickly showered in the adjacent bathroom. She walked out with nothing but a towel wrapped around her, her wet hair falling past her shoulders. Kafka bit his lip as he felt heat surge through his veins. As much as he'd love to take her here and now, they were both completely exhausted, so it would have to wait. He took a brief shower, being sure to "relieve" himself before hopping out to dry off and put on pjs.

"I am beat," Ren yawned as she pulled the blankets over her legs and tucked loose strands of wet hair into a towel she'd secured onto her head. "I don't feel like drying my hair, so don't judge me."

Kafka chuckled as he snuggled in beside her, unsure of how much longer he could stay awake. "No judgment here." His eyelids felt heavy and his body began to relax. "I'm not gonna be able to stay awake long. Goodnight, I love you," he whispered before gently kissing her cheek.

"I love you, too. Let's get some rest," she replied, switching off the lamp on the nightstand. With the room cloaked in complete darkness, they both fell into a deep sleep.

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