kaiju hunting is a line of work that demands a fortitude for injury. melee combatants, as frontliners, receive worse battering in most emergency scenarios, but hoshina likes to brush it off with a smile whilst assessing his performance and gaps. what must it be like then, perhaps, to have scientific foresight and evade all harm before it can happen?
it had been a rare instance of the third and first divisions converging for an especially dangerous extermination, only defeated after hours of cutting through its spawn. hoshina had paved the path forward in tandem with narumi's ability and captain ashiro's sniping. seeing the first division captain already outside of his uniform and free of any noticeable wounds strikes a nerve in a way hoshina hadn't expected.
he reaches out before he can think, fortunate enough for the halls to be bare of other people, and yanks the back of narumi's shirt without even so much as a greeting. his shirt is loose enough for hoshina to see skin with just a simple tug, and leans in to—
( sink his teeth, pierce through flesh, merciless to let him bleed and scar him so permanently. an untouchable force as japan's strongest, and yet even his prophetic vision can't save him from hoshina's touch, his teeth, his want, want, want— )
—bite him. lightly, of course, though if hoshina did draw blood, he'll claim it's by complete accident. he's already rushing off the opposite direction with a wave by the time narumi has recovered, smile playful and knowing. "good work today, captain!"
how he absolutely hated joint neutralizing missions. it was more than an unnecessary waste of resources and energy, a performance piece to trick the background characters into believing they deserved to stand center stage. as if he wasn't the strongest piece on the board / as if narumi gen needed backup. the first division was more than capable of handling the kaiju threat, but because the third division had been called to headquarters regarding recent kaiju activity— just thinking back to it is enough to have gen gnashing his teeth. because that damn bowlcut kept getting in his way, all his best shots were taken by ashiro. which meant she took all of his glory, again. and in his own section, too!
how he absolutely fucking hated these stupid joint neutralizing missions. the permanent scowl in place is enough to ensure the hallway remains clear as he stalks his way towards his designated room, ready for his next engagement to be multiple hours with his bayonet and various training simulations. the order was given the moment subjugation had ended, that gen would only be accepting interruptions from hasegawa for situations of extreme importance and nothing more ( and even then, gen knew nobody would be stupid enough to actually bother him. the first division were well aware of how dangerous things could get when he needed to let out some steam. )
his bayonet will need to be taken in for realignment and reparations afterwards, which means his route back to his room would have to be altered. not to mention having to factor in a stop for some food, which gen would have to make before the early hours if he wanted to have anything even rem——
the train of thought is derailed at the sharp yank of the cotton of his shirt, an action that has the body immediately tensing in surprise. the yelp that leaves him is instinctual / a reaction that only work to worsen his already awful mood ( someone had been behind him? how hadn't he been able to notice, he should've had complete awareness of his surroundings. because of the stupid third division clouding his thoughts , here he was— being made a fool of by some insolent cadet who had managed to get the jump on him. ) scowl turns into a snarl as the immediate action turns to violence, hands reaching behind in desperate attempts to claw and catch the idiot who dared to show such disrespect his way.
except his assailant does something gen had not been prepared for. hot breath fans over the skin on the back of his neck for a second before the sting of teeth finally connects and gen—— shuts down. the storm in his head quiets instantly, focusing on nothing but the feel of teeth digging into flesh. mouth opens but it's a whimper that escapes from him, shivers beginning to dance up and down his spine. it was too sudden an attack on a too sensitive area, an action that has his blood rushing so immediately to his head that gen almost feels dizzy. there are no scalding words, there are no more desperate actions; hands are paralyzed in the air from where they had previously been attacking, trembling from the same shivers that racked his body.
a full minute passes before gen realizes that the hand grabbing his shirt had let go, that the teeth have left his neck. slowly blinking himself free from the daze, gen can only turn to catch the briefest look at hoshina before the other turns a corner and is gone from view completely. but gen doesn't follow, can barely even form comprehensible thoughts— it was as if he had been sinking in honey. body movements are slow and languid as gen begins to walk back towards his room, quietly shuffling through the hallways. the previous annoyance / the burning anger / even the phone with a newspaper article detailing his poor performance in the attack were all forgotten in favor of returning to his office, of collapsing onto his futon and burrowing into the sheets.
the blush doesn't leave his face until long after he's asleep.
