the things we don't name (I)
Narumi Gen x Platoon Leader!Reader
Synopsis: in division one, silence is survival. orders are obeyed, reports are written, and emotions are cast aside in spaces between missions. shinonome rin dreams outloudâabout the captain with the lazy grin and steady aim. you listen, smile, and tell yourself you're happy for her. but narumi's gaze keeps finding you in the quiet hoursâwhen the rain won't stop, and the distance between you feels paper-thin. you can fight kaiju, yes. but how do you fight the kind of feeling that grows in the shadows of loyalty towards your best friend?
The debrief room buzzed with low voices and the faint hum of cooling circuits. Combat footage played in a silent loopâthe rising gray smoke, the flash of kaiju claws, the blinding beam of fire caught mid-frame.
You stood at the center table, posture straight, gloves still caked with dried kaiju blood that you havenât had the chance to scrub off. You didnât bark out orders, you simply stood, calm and composed. The rest of Division One listened because you gave them nothing else to listen to.Â
âFormation B held for forty seconds before collapse,â you said, eyes trained on the hologram display, âReason?â
A few beats of silence. Someone shifted in their seat, uncomfortable.Â
Then a quiet voice, âI broke line, Platoon Leader.â
Your gaze flicked to the officer in question, voice steady, âGood, being able to acknowledge your mistakes is a valuable trait to have. Youâll review your combat footage tonight and fix your recoil timing. Same place, same drill tomorrow. Did I make myself clear?â
The officer nodded firmly before breathing a sigh of relief.
You never raised your voice, but people followed it the way they followed a compass.Â
From the far side of the room, Narumi was slouched in a chair like he had been poured into itâhoodie half-zipped, a handheld console balanced in one hand, stylus tapping lazily against the screen.Â
He looked up every few secondsâhis eyes peering from underneath his bangs, tracking you through the flicker of the screen light.Â
He said nothing through the debrief. No jokes nor his usual snide comments. He just watched. The tapping of his stylus slowing every time you spoke.Â
When the debrief had come to an end, you dismissed the unit. The room was filled with the sound of shuffling papers and the scraping of chairs against the hardwood floor. You turned towards the exit and found Narumi still there, game paused, the soft hum of the device filling the space between them.Â
âSomething wrong, Captain?â you asked.
He looked at you, his grin lazy but eyes sharp, âNah, just admiring how terrifyingly efficient you are. Iâd hate to be on the receiving end of that tone.â
âThen donât mess up in the field,â you simply stated.
âCanât promise that,â he shrugged half-heartedly, flicking his console shut, âBut Iâll at least do it with style.â
You fought to keep the smile off your face, barely, âGlad to hear it, Captain.â
He leaned back, arms now situated behind his head, âIâve always wondered how you managed to make a room full of elite officers look like theyâre back in middle school.â
âI give them homework.â
That earned a quiet laugh from Narumi.Â
He straightened back up, sliding the console into his pocket, âYouâre scary, you know that?â
âI think you meant to say efficient,â you corrected him.Â
âRight. Scarily efficient.â
You rolled your eyes playfully and turned to leave, seeing no point in arguing further. Your boots clicked against the floor as you walked out the door.Â
With your back turned towards him, you missed the way his eyes lingered on your retreating back, his grin fading into something resembling a tender smile.Â
Rin didnât knock before barging into your room. She never did.Â
You had stopped expecting her to somewhere around your third year as cadets. Your door swung open, letting in a rush of cold corridor air and the irresistible smell of instant ramen.Â
âYouâre up,â Rin said, holding two cups in one hand, grin wide, âGood. I brought sustenance.â
You looked up from your report terminal and frowned, âThatâs not sustenance. Thatâs slow-acting poison.â
âThen die with me,â Rin said, already flopping on the edge of your bed.Â
You sighed but took the offered cup anyways, âYouâre impossible.â
âAdmit it,â Rin said, cracking open her chopsticks, âYou missed me.â
You didnât answer, just smiled helplessly. You didnât need to answer, because youâve known each other for far too long to play that game.Â
Steam filled the quiet between the two of you. Rinâs hair was still damp from the showers, her uniform swapped for the Divisionâs lounge tee and sweatpants. You had changed too, finally free of the suffocating tightness of your uniform.Â
Rin slurped loudly, âSo.â
You didnât look up, âSo?â
Rin leaned back against the headboard, âDonât play dumb. You know what âsoâ means.â
You took a slow sip of broth, âNarumi.â
Rinâs grin widened, âNarumi.â
You exhaled through your nose, âWhat did he do this time?â
âHe didnât do anything,â Rin began, already going on the defensive, âhe justâcomplimented me.â
âThatâs not newsworthy.â
âIt is when itâs him! He said, and I quote, âGood work out there, Shinonome.ââ
âRiveting,â you fought the urge to laugh.
Rin launched a pillow your way, âYouâre impossible! You have no sense of romance.â
âRomance doesnât usually start with a performance review.â
Rin groaned dramatically, falling back onto your bed, âYouâre such a realist. Itâs depressing.â
Your lips curved, barely, âWell, one of us has to be.â
For a while, it was easyâjust laughter and nonsense and the kind of teasing that came from years of shared drills, night watches, and field rations. But slowly, as the steam from the ramen dissipated and Rinâs voice softened, the air shifted.Â
Rin pulled her knees up, her chin resting against them, âDo you think he ever⌠notices me? Like, really notices me? Or am I just another soldier to him?â
You paused mid-bite, chopsticks stilling in your hand.Â
You had heard this question beforeâversions of it whispered across cafeteria tables, locker rooms, and your personal quartersâbut this time it hurt in a way it hadnât before.
âOf course he notices you,â you said softly.
Rinâs head snapped up, eyes hopeful, âYeah?â
You nodded, âHe pays attention to effort. You never stop trying. He respects that.â
Rin smiled a little, but the uncertainty lingered, âYou really think respect is all it is?â
You hesitated, then forced a calm laugh, âYou want me to say heâs secretly in love with you?â
Rin laughed too, embarrassed, âMaybe.â
You looked away, hiding the tightening in your chest behind another sip. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to tell her that Narumi had probably noticed everythingâthe way Rinâs hand shook when she loaded her weapon, how her eyes always flicked to the horizon before every battle. But that wasnât true. Because you knew how he looked when he noticed someone. And he didnât look at Rin that way.Â
âHeâs⌠complicated,â you said finally.
âThatâs just code for dense,â Rin replied, âHeâs got that âgenius idiotâ thing going on. You know, all instinct, no awareness.â
âSounds accurate,â you smiled faintly.
Rin leaned sideways, her shoulders nudging teasingly against yours, âEnough about me. What about you, huh? Anyone caught your eye lately?â
You shook your head and laughed, voice even, âNo time for that.â
âPlease. You say that, but Iâve seen you stare at people during strategy meetings. Thatâs the face of a woman judging, or pining. You just mask it so well I canât tell which is which.â
Your hand tightened imperceptibly on the ramen cup before you laughed, âYouâre seeing things.â
âMaybe,â Rin said, stretching out on your bed, her voice fading softer, âStill⌠youâd tell me, right? If there was someone?â
You didnât answer immediately. You simply watched the steam rise between themâfading, curling, disappearing into the hum of the air vents.Â
âYeah,â you said finally, quiet but steady, âIâd tell you.â
Rin smiled, satisfied, eyes drooping with exhaustion.Â
Within minutes, her breathing slowed.Â
You stayed awake, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.Â
You had meant it in the momentâthat you would tell her. But you knew that even if you wanted to, you couldnât. Not about him.Â
Not when Rinâs heart was already halfway there.Â
Division One Headquarters always felt different past midnight.Â
The noise died first. The shuffling of boots, the barking of orders, the ceaseless chatterâgone. Only the hum of monitors and air vents remained
You sat alone in the strategy room, half-finished report open on your tablet. Your jacket hung on the back of your chair, your sleeves rolled up, hair tied up and out of your face. You had been staring at the same line for the past ten minutes.
âRecon data cross-check completeâ
You didnât move until you heard the sound of the door sliding open behind you.Â
Narumi didnât announce his presence, didnât need to. The air always seemed to shift when he walked in the room.Â
He had his gaming console in one hand, and a flash drive in the other. His uniform jacket hung open, shirt rumpled, his eyes catching the sterile white light like they were reflecting mischief and exhaustion at once.Â
âYou look like youâve been awake since the Meiji era,â he said.
You didnât glance up, âWell, someone has to keep this division running while its captain plays Tetris.â
âItâs Mecha Fortress Online,â he corrected you pointedly, stepping inside, âAnd I can multitask, thank you very much-âÂ
âYour actions suggest otherwise.â
He grinned, tired but amused, and dropped into the chair across from you, setting his console down on the table. It was still on, tiny 8-bit explosions flickering across the screen.Â
You resumed typing, âIf you came here to distract me, you can go.â
He didnât move, âI came here because Hasegawa said youâve been camped in this room since morning. Thatâs⌠concerning.â
âYouâre always fine,â he said, tilting his head, eyes glinting in the light, âThatâs whatâs concerning.â
You didnât dignify that with an answer.
He set his console down on the table, face-down this time. Silence settled between the two of you, broken only by the faint click of your pen and the distant buzz of the fluorescent lights.Â
Narumi leaned back, arms folding in front of him, âSo whatâs keeping you up this time? Reports? Or your habit of rewriting the same sentence until it bleed?âÂ
You exhaled through your nose, ââŚBoth.â
He grinned, âKnew it.â
There it was againâthat maddening balance of his flippantness and perceptiveness. He always sounded like he was joking until suddenly, he wasnât. Like his words slipped past humor and hit somewhere that mattered.Â
âIf you wanted company you couldâve just said so,â you joked in an attempt to change the topic.Â
âFigured you could use some. Company makes paperwork less painful,â he said, deadpan, âIâm humanitarian like that.âÂ
âRight. And the console is for emotional support?â
He looked down at it, smirking, âExactly. Youâd be surprised how many lives have been saved thanks to handheld gaming.â
You hummed, unimpressed. But you felt your lips twitching involuntarilyâforming the closest thing to a smile.Â
It shouldâve been irritating, you thought. It was.Â
Ten minutes passed in near silence. You typed. He fidgeted. The low hum of his presence filled the room in the same way light filled the darkness of the room.Â
He scrolled absently with his thumb before asking, voice quiet this time, âSeriously though, you doing alright?âÂ
You paused and looked up, brows furrowed, confused, âWhy wouldnât I be?â
ââCause youâre staying up late. Again.â
âI had reports to finish.â
âYouâre lying,â he said easily, not accusing, just observing.
You blinked, caught off guard, âExcuse me?â
âYou only pretend to work when somethingâs eating at you. Youâve been staring at the same document for the past ten minutes.â
âThatâs an oddly specific observation,â you stared at him.
He shrugged, âI notice things.â
You wished he didnât. Or at least, that he noticed less.Â
âThen maybe you should focus on your game instead,â you said evenly.
He smirked faintly, âI can multitask, remember?â
His console chimedâa bright, cheerful sound that didnât fit the quiet. He muted it.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Leaving only the faint buzz of the monitor lights to fill the space between them.Â
Narumi leaned forward again, his eyes boring into yours, âIf you ever need to talkââ
He raised an eyebrow, âYou sure?â
âYes.â Your voice was calm and perfectly level, but your words had landed heavier than you had intended for it to.Â
Narumi nodded once and moved to stand up, pocketing his console, âAlright.â
She half-expected him to leave thenâto make some dumb quip on his way out, as he always did.Â
But instead he stopped by her chair.
âYouâre allowed to lean on people sometimes,â he said.
You donât look up, âThatâs inefficient.â
He chuckled quietly, âYou really do sound like Hasegawa.â
âThen I must be doing something right.â
He tilted his head, studying you in that way that made it hard for you to breathe. The rain outside flickered against the windows, soft and distant, like it was trying to listen in.
Finally, he said, âDonât stay up too late,â and left.Â
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
You stared at the space heâd been standing in.Â
It was easier, you told yourself, to let him leave thinking you didnât need anything. It was easier than admitting that you did.Â
Your tablet screen dimmed, the cursor blinking against the half-finished paragraph. You closed the report, leaned back in your chair, and pressed your palms against your eyes until the ache subsided.Â
Outside, the rain had startedâsoft against the windows, rhythmic, relentless.Â
You told yourself youâd finish the report tomorrow. But tomorrow always came too late.
The cafeteria was nearly empty by the time you arrived. The dinner rush had passed hours ago, leaving only the faint echo of trays and the steady stir of the vending machines.Â
Rin was already there, sitting at one of the corner tables with her knees drawn up and a tray loaded with enough food for two people. She looked up as you approached, already halfway through demolishing a bowl of rice.Â
âYouâre late,â she said, mouth full.Â
âYou said âgrab food if youâre free,â not âreport for dutyââ you rolled your eyes playfully, setting your tray down on the cafeteria table.Â
She grinned, cheeks puffed slightly, before placing a taiyaki from her tray onto yours, âYouâre lucky I saved you anything. I was stress eating.â
âYou stress eat everyday.â
âYeah, but today itâs justified.â
You sat across from her, picking up your chopsticks, âSomething happen?â
Rin hesitatedânot her usual kind of pause, not the dramatic build up she used for gossips either. This one was quieter, edged with something uneasy.Â
âI saw Narumi in the firing range earlier,â she said finally.
You didnât sigh, but your shoulders almost did, âAnd?â
âHe was helping the new recruits. The ones who canât aim to save their lives.â
âI bet itâs because Vice Captain was holding his BS5 hostage,â you laughed.
âProbably,â Rin smiled, stirring her bowl of miso soup half-heartedly in her hand, âBut he looked so focused. Like⌠he actually cared. And then he smiled at one of them when she hit the target and Iââ
She stopped herself, looking down quickly.Â
You didnât push. You waited.Â
Rinâs chopsticks tapped lightly against her tray, âI just⌠I wish heâd look at me like that sometimes.â
There it wasâ quiet, raw.Â
You leaned back slightly, folding your arms, âMaybe he does, and you just donât notice.â
Rin gave a dry laugh, âYou donât have to say that just to make me feel better.â
âIâm not,â you said definitively, even though deep down maybe you werenât.Â
She went back to eating, slower now. The rhythm of her chopsticks faltered.Â
Then she said in a voice almost too soft for you to hearââDo you think I eat too much?â
You paused mid-chew, caught off guard, âWhat?â
She didnât look up, âI mean⌠everyoneâs always grabbing something smallâa protein bar, maybe an energy drink. But I always end up with a full tray. Two, sometimes. I donât know, maybe thatâs why heââ
âRin,â you interrupted with a stern voice that made her head snap up.Â
You met her gaze evenly, âYou eat because you fight harder than anyone else. You need it. And if anyone has a problem with that, theyâre idiots.â
Rinâs lips parted, her voice still filled with uncertainty, âYou donât think itâs⌠unattractive?â
You frowned, âWhatâs unattractive about staying alive?â
Rin laughed quietly, a sound that cracked something in your chest.
âGod, youâre so practical,â she said, shaking her head, âYou make everything sound easy.â
âIâm just being honest,â you said, voice softer now.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The cafeteria lights buzzed faintly, filling the silence with their own brand of noise.Â
Then Rinâs smile returnedâsmall, fragile, but real.Â
âYou know, Iâm glad youâre here,â she said, âI donât think Iâd survive Division One without you.â
You poked absentmindedly at your tray of food, a small grin on your lips, âYouâd be fine. Youâre tougher than you think.â
She tilted her head, âYou donât give yourself enough credit either. You talk like youâre made of steel, but you care more than any of us.â
You shrugged, pretending not to notice how her words hit too close, âWell, someone has to make sure you donât starve from overthinking.â
Rin grinned, âYou love me.â
She laughed againâbright, careless, the kind of laugh that made the whole place feel a little less sterile. You two lingered even after your trays were long since empty.Â
Rin leaned back in her chair, legs stretched out, the picture of exhaustion and contentment.
âDo you think he likes confident girls?â she asked suddenly.
You looked up from your drink, âWhy?â
âBecause I think I come off as too much sometimes.â
âYou should stay loud,â you said, âQuiet doesnât suit you.â
Rin smiled faintly, eyes soft with something unreadable.Â
Then she said, almost to herself, âIâm going to tell him. Somedayâ
You felt that sentence land like a blade with its flat side pressed against your skinâharmless, for now.Â
âThen Iâll support you,â you said.Â
You meant it. You wanted to mean it.Â
Rin nodded, satisfied, stretching her arms above her head, âGood. Because if I make a fool out of myself, youâre going down with me.â
You laughed quietly, âDeal.â
When you walked her back to her quarters, the corridor lights flickered with the rhythm of your footsteps.Â
At the door, she turned, still smiling, âYou know, youâd make a great liar if you ever caught feelings. Youâd just bury them under all that professionalism.âÂ
You smiled back, controlled, steady, âGood thing I donât have any.â
Rin grinned, âRight.â
She disappeared inside, door sliding shut behind her.Â
You stayed there a moment longer than you shouldâve.Â
don't let my previous fics fool u i'm a SUCKER for slow burn and angst. i'm using this fic to explore the more serious parts of narumi's character, this is a bit experimental but i'm excited to see where i can take this!