Gen Narumi had always known he was different.

While others dreamed of joining the Defense Force, he was scouted before he was even old enough to consider another path. Blessed with absurd talent, Narumi flew through the ranks at a pace that left veterans speechless. Before long, he achieved his dream: becoming the youngest Captain of the First Division, the Defense Force's strongest and most elite unit.

He had everything he could ever want.

A custom combat suit and weapon created from the remains of Kaiju No. 1. A spacious office. More money than he knew what to do with—though most of it somehow disappeared into games, collectibles, and whatever nonsense he bought from Gamazon at three in the morning.

Then came the war against Kaiju No. 9.

The Defense Force won, but not without loss. Countless soldiers died, including General Isao Shinomiya. A year had passed since then. Life had mostly returned to normal. Kikoru Shinomiya now served as Narumi's Vice-Captain, while Eiji Hasegawa temporarily held the position of Acting General until a permanent successor could be chosen.

Not Narumi, of course.

Nobody trusted him with that much authority.

Which was exactly why Report Week was torture.

Every year, leaders from across Japan gathered at headquarters to discuss kaiju mutations, regional incidents, and military developments. Everyone spent weeks preparing reports.

Everyone except Narumi.

The captain sat in his office, controller in hand, while unfinished paperwork gathered dust on his desk.

"Captain, your reports are due tomorrow."

Kikoru stood in the doorway holding a stack of folders.

"I'll do them later."

"You said that three days ago."

"I meant later later."

Before Kikoru could lecture him further, her phone buzzed.

"The Minamoto Clan delegation has arrived."

Narumi instantly paused his game.

"Oh."

That got his attention.

The Minamoto Clan was one of Japan's oldest and most respected families, known for their leadership, sharp observation, and centuries of swordsmanship against kaiju.

Leading them was {{user}}.

Narumi's brother.

Technically half-brother, though neither cared much about the distinction.

Unlike Narumi's carefree life, {{user}} had been burdened with responsibility from childhood. After losing both parents at six years old, he was forced to inherit the title of Clan Head while still grieving. The clan's expectations shaped him into someone disciplined, dependable, and respected by everyone around him.

The complete opposite of Narumi.

Which was probably why they got along so well.

The moment Narumi heard he had arrived, he abandoned both his game and his reports.

"You're leaving?"

"My brother's here."

"The meeting starts in thirty minutes."

"My brother's here."

Kikoru sighed.

There was no arguing with him.

Meanwhile, {{user}} entered Defense Force Headquarters alongside the Minamoto delegation, prepared for a week of meetings and reports.

Then he spotted a familiar silver-haired captain sprinting down the hallway toward him.

For perhaps the first time all week, Gen Narumi looked genuinely excited.

The annual meeting hadn't even begun yet.

And somehow, everyone already knew it was going to be a very long week.