Arikawa Yoshiro sat slumped over the cafeteria table, his chin resting on his arms as he half-watched a video playing on his phone, propped up by an empty glass.

  He, alongside Suzuki and Tanaka had been reassigned to the facility, stuck helping with logistics, maintenance, and inventory. It was an endless boring grind that was far removed from the fieldwork they did only 2-weeks ago on their disastrous first day. The incident still hung over them, to him the accident was a glaring failure, even if Suzuki and Tanaka seemed more willing to let it go.

  Right now, the three were alone on their afternoon break at the cafeteria.

  "PPSTT- Hey, how long do you think it’d take for them to notice if we swapped these out for something from the vending machine?" Tanaka muttered, holding up a sealed container that he took from the storage, showing it with exaggerated flare, shaking the trinket in his hands.

  "You idiot" As Suzuki's head snapped to Tanaka with a hiss

  "Put that back! You already got us in trouble. Your, lucky they didn't already fire us." She barked.

  "What?!" Tanaka protested, throwing his hands up in mock indignation.

  “It's not like this is any better. We’re not screw-ups, what happened was a total accident. But here we are stuck with dead-end task for weeks!"

  His voice dropped as he leaned forward, frustration clear in his eyes.

  "Besides, waiting to hear back about those written exam results is taking forever." he grumbled.

  That’s right. The three of them had recently taken the written examination needed to qualify for the JKSDF screening process. Now, all they could do was wait for the results. Tanaka’s outburst drew a sigh from Suzuki, who crossed her arms, but neither of them addressed Yoshiro, who remained silent. Yoshiro didn’t join the banter. His eyes were fixed on the video playing on his phone. The screen displayed a Chinese news banner, the scrolling headlines catching his attention far more than the conversation.

  His eyes were glued to his phone, where the screen displayed a translated Chinese news banner:

  “LIVE News: Victory in Shanghai – Titan Fireteam ‘Crimson Emperors’ Brings Down Kaiju.”

  The video feed would portray, three near-identical Titans engaging in battle against a massive Kaiju at the heart of the coastal city. The models were imposing at least by size and comparison, broad-shouldered and clad in red armored plates. Their arms ending in mechanical tripod pincers, that tossed and thrashed the beast around the city. The Kaiju itself was massive, its anatomy sharing a resemblance to that of a pterosaur. Its wings, folded beneath its forearms, its body was torn, battered and riddled with burns. The engagement was one-sided—this was barely a fight.

  The Crimson Emperors, worked in perfect tandem, taking turns to trade devastating blows; BAM-SLAM-BAAM. The Kaiju's roars were far from defiant...they were desperate, with structures toppling and falling as they pushed it back under the coordinated assault.

  Driven to desperation, it made a frantic attempt to escape. With a bleeding roar, it unfurled its leathery wings. It beats with powerful gust, its enormous bulk began to lift off the ground. But the Titans didn't give it the chance to reach higher.

  In a smooth, mechanical motion, the pincer arms of all three models, opened wide. A sudden hiss of hydraulics was followed by a sharp WOOSH as spiked flails launched from their pincers. Massive projectiles, tethered by razor-edged chains, shot through. The camera caught the moment they struck, the ends burrowing deep into the Kaiju’s scaled hide with a sickening crunch. The beast let out a scream, thrashing wildly in the air as the Titans anchored it in place.

  the chains tightened like an iron vice. Sparks flew from the chains as arcs of electricity surged through the links, coursing into the Kaiju’s body. The creature convulsed mid-air, its wings spasming, before its ascent faltered. With a harsh jolt, the Titans hauled the beast back to the earth.

  BOOM.

  The Kaiju hit the ground with a loud impact, carving a crater on the deserted streets. The Kaiju lay sprawled, twitching as it feebly attempted to rise. The Crimson Emperors were already advancing for the kill. Their secondary arms unfolded, revealing rotary guns embedded in the centers of their palms. A sharp mechanical whine began to whirl, as the guns spun to life.

  RATATATA

  Bullets fired on the Kaiju in a relentless hail, tearing into its already broken body. The creature writhed under the unyielding fire, its cries fading into weak and pitiful whimpers. Finally, with its last dying roar, the beast collapsed. Its lifeless form sprawled, black ichor pooling beneath it and smoke rising from its smoldering wounds. It only ended, when one of the Titan's stepped forward to the fresh carcass. Its mechanical pincers opened with a precise hiss, clamping onto the Kaiju’s massive neck. With a single tear, the Titan severed the head from the body. Camera, zooming as it is Hoisted high, holding it aloft as a trophy...

  For a moment, Yoshiro was still too focus on his phone to even pay attention to the conversation around him. His mind lingered on Riku’s words about what it truly felt like to be inside a Titan. And the imagery from the video on his phone only made those words resonate louder in his head. What would it be like for him, to be a Pilot…

  Until Kazu’s voice cut sharp, calling him to attention.

  “Oy! Earth to Yoshiro!” Tanaka waved a hand dramatically in front of Yoshiro’s face. “Want to weigh in on this, or are you just gonna keep zoning out?”

  Yoshiro blinked, snapping out of his trance.

  “S-sorry,” he stammered, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish chuckle. “I was just catching up on international news.”

  Tanaka snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

  “Oh, sure. International news. Or is that your new excuse for daydreaming again?”

  “You know, we are not even sure if all three of us qualifies for the screening process.”

  Suzuki let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing her arms.

  “Give him a break, Kazu. At least he’s not plotting to rob the vending machine.” She shot Tanaka a pointed look, one eyebrow raised.

  “Hey!”

  “First of all, it’s not robbery—it’s resourcefulness! Second, you’ll all thank me when snacks fall from the sky.” Tanaka boasted.

  Yoshiro couldn’t help but crack a small smile at their antics. Despite their dull reassignment, and waiting in on the test results. Tanaka’s ridiculous ideas and Suzuki’s sharp wit were but another welcome distraction.

  Before their banter could flow further, a firm voice cut through the cafeteria, freezing the trio mid-laugh.

  “Oi, you three! I figured you guys would be here.”

  They whipped around to see no other than, Tatsumaki Riku. Back into work, only a few days ago and assigned as their supervisor again, despite the prior accident. Holding a clipboard in his one good arm, while the other still remained encased in a cast now decorated with a few signatures of the crew at the PDCD, even a notable scribble adorned with some crayoned flowers one would assume a child would write out.

  "Break's over," he announced, approaching by a few steps.

  "Another cargo just came in from the Arashi site. They need us on standby for ash-disposal and probably helping out on some maintenance."

  Tanaka groaned audibly, slumping in his chair.

  “Oh, come on! Just when I was about to revolutionize snack logistics…”

  Suzuki rolled her eyes but stood up without complaint, straightening her jacket.

  “Let’s move, Kazu. You can save your snack revolution for another time.”

  Yoshiro pocketed his phone, his lighthearted expression sobering as he glanced at Riku. Their eyes met briefly—Personnaly, Yoshiro still held a hundred more questions swirling in his mind that he wanted to ask, that he has been keeping to himself. But he knew better than to pry—Riku wasn’t one for personal conversations, especially not now. He wouldn't even know how to phrase his questions, nor where to begin.

  With a quiet nod, Yoshiro followed Suzuki and Tanaka as they made their way out, leaving the cafeteria behind. Riku was already several steps ahead of them. Injury or not he was still spry and more efficient than the three of them together.

  As they trailed behind Riku through the narrow, halls of the facility. Yoshiro noticed that Tanaka couldn’t keep quiet for long.

  “Man, I still can’t believe it,” he said, glancing ahead at their supervisor’s back.

  “A former Titan pilot, now working full-time with us at the PDCD. It’s like seeing a samurai working as a janitor!”

  Suzuki, walking just ahead of him, shot Tanaka a sidelong glance.

  “Maybe don’t let him hear you say that, Kazu. Pretty sure Riku’s one good hand could literally pick you up, and use your hair as a mop-”

  Tanaka chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Still, it’s wild, right? I mean, he’s been inside a Titan, fought Kaiju up close, and now he’s here… dealing with the leftovers. Talking about a demotion, if you ask me.”

  Yoshiro spoke up, his voice quieter but firm.

  “Well, we don't know his story so we probably shouldn't judge. Besides this job is still just as important, and I’m pretty sure a lot of former militaries took up quiter jobs after server. Remember your family were also in the military...And last I checked, your uncle became a sushi chef after his time from the navy”

  Tanaka froze stiff even as his body moved forward, shutting up uncannily quiet. before silently chuckling it off, but the mischievous glint in his eye quickly returned.

  “Okay, Okay fine. You made your point. But if he’s so good…”

  “You think he’d train us? You know, for the screening process—assuming we even get accepted. I know stuff has changed since his time, but it could still help us out.”

  Suzuki snorted.

  “You want to ask Riku to train us? After what happened last time?”

  Yoshiro hesitated, glancing at Riku ahead of them. The thought had crossed his mind too. If anyone could point them in the right direction, prepare them even, It was Riku. But asking him? That was another matter entirely.

  “I don’t know if he’d agree. He’s not really the type to talk about his time in the force. Besides he is being paid to teach us THIS.” He referred directly to the whole PDCD.

  “Then what’s the harm in asking?” Tanaka pressed. “Worst he can do is say no, right?”

  Suzuki rolled her eyes.

  “More like he’ll ignore you entirely.”

  Their conversation continued and mellowed out between themselves, as they entered the next section of the facility, A sprawling chamber where the air was thicker and oddly hotter. The hum of machinery and fire, a long distance away. Yet Yoshiro could feel the vibrations through the concrete and steel as he touches a part of the wall’s surface.

  The vents above, built into the walls funneled soft streams of fine, gray ash from the facility’s mass furnace. Known to someone who had read the layout, and learned by Yoshiro.

  Powder, as light as snow adrift in the air and stuck on the walls and floor, was all that remained of the creatures they once feared. It was almost laughable—how the monsters that can grow to the size as skyscrapers, capable of leveling cities, could be reduced to this fragile, weightless ash as it falls on his gloved hands.

  “Alright, grab your scrapers,” Riku’s voice barked, pulling them back to reality. He was already at work, maneuvering around his limitations with one hand. Making do with the task at hand.

  They moved to their stations, retrieving long-handled scrapers from the wall, and putting on their masks. They began the monotonous task of clearing the ash that clung stubbornly to the surface and loading it into reinforced sacks. And it was going to be long tiring work with the amount of ash piled up for them to collect.

  Riku was in the midst of filling his fourth sack of ash, the grating sound of metal scraping against metal faintly cutting through the distant hum of the furnace. Working with only one hand was difficult but manageable—what truly tested his patience was keeping an eye on the trio nearby. Since returning to oversee their work, he’d made a habit of keeping them within his sight whenever they weren’t on break.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Still, amidst the monotony, he found an unexpected solace in the scribbled name of Yumi on his cast. The childlike scrawl, surrounded by colorful doodles, softened the edges of his otherwise rigid demeanor. A faint flicker of affection crossed his features as he glanced at it in secret, his focus briefly shifting from the task at hand.

  To himself he can confess that this wasn’t the most dignified work he’d ever done, but it was quiet, and that was enough for him...

  But the faint murmur of voices behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know it was the others—Tanaka, Suzuki, and Yoshiro. Their chatter was hard to ignore, especially when his name was mentioned.

  “You know, Tatsumaki-san. Yoshiro said you used to be in the JKSDF, right? A Titan pilot and everything?” Tanaka’s voice broke through, casual but curious. He rested his scraper on the ground, balancing it enough to lean forward.

  Riku exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the scraper. He had hoped the topic wouldn’t come up again. He’d indulged Yoshiro’s questions weeks ago in the hospital, but apparently, that wasn’t enough. Without turning, he answered, his voice even.

  “Yes, but that was a long time ago.” He said evenly, dumping another load of ash into his sack.

  “Still…” Suzuki’s voice was quieter but carried an earnest edge. “We’re just waiting on our examination results to see if we qualify for the JKSDF screening process. It’s a long shot, but if we make it, we’ll need all the help we can get. And you—”

  “No,” He said, cutting him off before he could finish. He didn’t turn around, keeping his focus on the ash in front of him.

  There was a pause. He could feel their stares pressing on his back.

  “Come on, sir,” Tanaka pressed, undeterred. “You’ve been there. You know what it takes. Would it kill you to help us out a little? Who better to train us than a former—”

  “No,” He said again, the word carrying more weight this time. His voice remained firm, but it was heavy.

  “I work for the PDCD now. This is where my priorities lie. I’m not interested in the JKSDF—or training anyone for it.” His last phrase seemingly felt as though it was addressing someone else.

  “Please…” This time it was Yoshiro’s voice that tried to ask. He was quieter than the others, but just as determined to try.

  “We’re serious about this. Honestly, we don’t know anyone else who could help.”

  He sighed, finally pausing in his work. He turned slightly, just enough to glance at the three of them. His gaze was softened, but his words hadn't loosened.

  “Look,”

  “I get that you’re all serious, and I respect that. But my life in the JKSDF is over. I’ve moved on..."

  And the conversation was left at that. The three respectfully dropping the topic as the shift dragged on. The weight of Riku’s firm rejection lingering in the air, they could only exchanged glances now and then but said nothing more about it. Instead, they redirected their chatter to lighter subjects—vending machine snacks, Suzuki’s questionable playlist choices, and Yoshiro’s obsessions with some international documentaries.

  The end of their time came with little fanfare, just the sound of tools being placed back on racks and weary sighs as Tanaka, Suzuki, and Yoshiro shrugged off the weight of the day.

  He only watched them from a distance, his gaze distant but steady. He gave a faint nod of acknowledgment when Yoshiro waved on his way out, though he didn’t move from where he stood.

  “See you tomorrow, Tatsumaki-san.” Suzuki bowed, her tone as casual as ever even as she walks out

  “Later, boss!” Tanaka added with a grin, carelessly despite the earlier conversation.

  As the door clanged shut, silence settled over room. Save for the faint hum of the furnace, Riku remained standing for a moment staring into the now-clear empty space where the others had been. The silence felt oddly heavy, though he wasn’t sure why.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there, before his legs moved of their own accord, carrying him toward the exit.

  After securing his equipment and locking up, he made his way to the cafeteria. Which was nearly deserted. Save for the faint clatter of a vending machine being restocked somewhere in the distance. Outside, the faint glow of evening pressed against the windows, hinting at the encroaching night.

  He took a seat at the spot, where the three had first sat hours ago, and sank into the chair with a low sigh. The quiet creak of the seat almost too loud in the stillness. His cast rested heavily on the table.

  "The JKSDF is running out of pilots, Riku. We wouldn’t be knocking door to door if we weren’t desperate. Things have changed drastically since our time."

  “You’ve been there. You know what it takes. Would it kill you to help us out a little?”

  “We’re serious about this. Honestly, we don’t know anyone else who could help.”

  “They’ll need instructors. Mentors. I’m not asking you to fight—I’m asking you to teach.”

  …

  There words repeated in his head, He had no reply to any off it, nothing but a firm no that loosened every time it was brought up. In the past He’d once believed he’d found peace after walking away from that life, but he hadn’t considered whether he wanted to walk back.

  He rubbed his temples, trying to think less of it.

  “Oh, Riku! Didn’t know you were still here,” came a familiar voice, that made him look forward. He looked up to see Mr. Takeda approaching, a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

  “Uh, yes, sir,” Riku replied, straightening a little. “I just wanted to rest for a little while before heading home.”

  “Ah, that so?” Takeda said with a warm nod as he took the seat across from him. “Well, glad to hear it. And I’m even more glad you’re managing your new tasks with the part-timers. Any problems lately?”

  “No, sir,” Riku said evenly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the three and ensuring everything stays on schedule.”

  “That’s great,” Takeda said, taking a sip from his mug. “Though I have to say, I’ll miss those three.”

  Riku blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Well,” Takeda continued, leaning back in his chair, “they took the entry examination to qualify for the JKSDF screening process, didn’t they? Any day now, their results could get delivered here. And honestly, I’m confident they passed. When they do, they’ll be off to the JKSDF.”

  Riku’s gaze dropped to the table. “…Right,” he murmured.

  "Surely you must be excited for them?" Takeda asked, his voice light but edged with curiosity.

  "Yes, I am..." Riku corrected, his tone measured. "After everything, even I know they'd be capable of the program."

  "But?" Takeda probed, leaning slightly forward. He had known Riku long enough to sense when there was more beneath the surface.

  "But," Riku began, his voice quieter now, hesitant. "Recently… they asked me about the possibility of teaching them.

  "And I don’t think I can do that for them," Riku admitted, his gaze falling to the table. He traced an invisible line on its surface with his finger, as though trying to organize his thoughts.

  Takeda sipped his coffee, letting the moment linger.

  "Why not? You gave six years to the JKSDF, and now you've been working here for seven. From where I’m sitting, you’re more than capable of it."

  Riku shook his head, a faint frown creasing his features.

  "It’s not the same. Watching over them during cleanup, keeping them on task—that’s different. But teaching them- To prepare them for that life? That’s not-...I’m not ready to step into that again."

  Riku exhaled. There was an argument forming in his mind, one he wanted to voice, but the words caught in his throat, but weighed down in his chest.

  Takeda was silent, setting his mug down with a soft clink.

  "You know," he began, his tone measured, "maybe it’s not about whether you’re ready. Maybe it’s about whether you’re willing to try."

  He leaned back slightly, his voice softening. "Look, I’m not saying you owe them anything. The choice is yours to make."

  "You’ve spent years building this life, and it’s a good one. But if you’re sitting here, still wrestling with these decisions, maybe it’s because you haven’t really walked away. Maybe it’s because there’s still something worth fighting for—The three clearly made up their minds.”

  “You just have to decide what it is, and what it means for you."

  Riku relaxed slightly, his fingers curling against the edge of the table. He was still unsure of how to answer, or what to answer with.

  "You’ve got time to figure it out," Takeda said, standing and giving him a small nod. "But don’t waste too much of it. Opportunities like this don’t always wait."

  "If you'll excuse me, I have to help those in night shift with their task." Takeda chuckled before standing back up and walking away.

  Riku lingered at the table a moment longer, Takeda’s words were still hard to process in his mind, but having the conversation gave him some ease. Perhaps there was some truth, that unsettled him, as much as he wanted to dismiss it, he couldn't.

  With a quiet sigh, he pushed back from the table and stood. The cafeteria was emptier now, and the crew for the night-shift no doubt will soon take-over.

  He finally made his way out into the cool night, finally going home. The travel was uneventful, being picked up by a cab. The streets swallowed by the dark save for the dim amber glow of streetlights.

  When he reached his apartment, the usual warmth of home seemed muted, replaced by a cold quiet. He slipped off his shoes and stepped inside. Soft creak of floorboards beneath his weight, for once his home felt foreign.

  Heading down the hall, he passed Yumi’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and he peeked inside. She was fast asleep, her small form buried under a mess of blankets, her stuffed bear tucked against her chest. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. No doubt Lady Chiyo had tucked her in, her gentle care ensuring Yumi’s nights were always peaceful when he wasn't there to do it.

  Riku continued to his room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He stood there for a moment, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, staring at the floor, before leaning over and pulling open the drawer of his nightstand.

  Inside was the folder. Thick, slightly worn at the edges, and stamped officially with the JKSDF emblem. He held it in his hands.

  And he thought of the time he wanted to join the defense force...When their homes and schools had been destroyed, didn’t know who had survived and who hadn’t, but all he could do was sob. He was only young, and small when was up on the hill overlooking all the smoke. He sat there, knees hugged tightly to his chest, weeping into the crook of his arm.

  Then he felt a gentle hand press on his back, a warm touch. From a face too distant to remember. But the voice, the voice was as young as he was.

  "When we grow-up let's join the defense-force together!"

  "We'll fight the kaiju! To make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone, ever again!"

  They declared, and all he felt was hope...A fight rising in his throat.

  And now he finds it stirring once more.

  …

  The following day, Arikawa Yoshiro adjusted the strap of his workbag, stifling a yawn as he and his friends swiped their ID badges over the clock-in scanner. The familiar beep confirmed their arrival.

  Arikawa, Yoshiro – PDCD Junior Staff [Part Timer].

  Tanaka, Kazu – PDCD Junior Staff [Part Timer].

  Suzuki, Mizore – PDCD Junior Staff [Part Timer].

  “Think they’ll finally let us back into the Arashi site today?” Tanaka joked, nudging Suzuki.

  “Man, I hope so,” Yoshiro said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t jinx it, you two,” Suzuki muttered, rolling her eyes.

  “Hey, you three.”

  A sharp voice cut through the morning haze, stopping all three in their tracks. They turned to see Riku striding toward them, his usual stoic expression set firmly in place.

  “Tatsumaki-san! What’s the job today?” Yoshiro asked, startled by the sudden interruption.

  “Before that,” Riku said, his voice firm but not unkind, “follow me for a minute.”

  The three exchanged puzzled glances but quickly fell in step behind him. Riku led them through the facility, past familiar areas, and then outside, navigating around the perimeter to a part of the compound they’d never been to before.

  They stopped in front of a wide set of steel doors. Without a word, Riku pushed them open, revealing a sprawling warehouse. The space was vast and dimly lit, the faint scent of metal and oil lingering in the air. Equipment and training dummies were scattered throughout, alongside shelves stacked with manuals and gear.

  “Here,” Riku said, stepping inside and turning to face them, “is where I’ll teach you three. A little space I set up long ago.”

  Suzuki blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

  “You’re serious?” Tanaka added, his usual smirk replaced by genuine surprise.

  “One hour, thirty minutes,” Riku continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Every day. I’ll talk to Takeda to ensure it doesn’t interfere with your shifts. If you’re serious about joining the JKSDF…”

  He let the words hang, his gaze sweeping over each of them.

  “…then you’ll study, you’ll train, you’ll learn.”

  Yoshiro felt a jolt of something—excitement, maybe, or fear—coursing through him. He clenched his fists, staring at the space, then back at Riku.

  “And if we’re not serious?” Tanaka asked hesitantly.

  Riku’s eyes narrowed slightly, his voice steady but sharp. “Then don’t waste my time. Or yours.”

  The room fell silent, the weight of Riku’s words pressing down on them. Yoshiro’s heart pounded in his chest, but without hesitation, he stepped forward.

  “I’m in,” he said, his voice firm despite the nervous energy buzzing inside him.

  Suzuki and Tanaka exchanged glances before nodding.

  “Yeah,” Suzuki said, stepping forward. “Count me in too.”

  “Me too,” Tanaka added with a sheepish grin. “And sorry—I was just trying to sound cool earlier!”

  Riku studied them for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Good. We start today. Drop your bags and get ready.”

  As Riku walked toward a nearby table stacked with training materials, Yoshiro glanced around the warehouse. For the first time, he felt like he was taking a step toward the future he’d always dreamed of.