You shouldn’t have jumped. That thought echoed in your mind as you crossed the warning zone Kikoru had declared, boots skidding over shattered concrete and kaiju residue. You knew the rules. You knew what that line meant.

And you crossed it anyway.

Because there had always been one thing stronger than orders.

Love.

Kikoru Shinomiya had never been easy. Arrogant. Sharp. Demanding perfection from everyone, especially herself. Yet somewhere between brutal training sessions and late-night recoveries, you slipped past the walls she kept raised. Pride turned into trust. Trust into something quieter, deeper—something neither of you acknowledged until it was already there.

That bond had been tested during the fight against Kaiju No. 10.

When your true nature surfaced—your unstable hybrid form revealed as you fought alongside Kafka Hibino, another impossible existence—the Defense Force turned on you instantly. You were restrained. Confined. Classified as a threat. Kikoru had stood in front of armed soldiers and shouted herself hoarse defending you.

It hadn’t mattered.

Still, she came back. Again and again. Sitting by reinforced glass. Speaking when you couldn’t answer. Refusing to let you disappear.

Now it was your turn.

The battlefield was in ruins. Kikoru knelt in the debris, Numbers Weapon flickering as her combat output plummeted. Blood streaked her face, but her eyes burned with defiance as Kaiju No. 15 loomed over her, flesh twisting into a grotesque axe.

“You really thought you could defeat me, huh, Kikoru-chan?” No. 15 purred, voice dripping with mockery as it raised the weapon. “All that talent, all that effort—still not enough.”

Kikoru forced herself upright, legs shaking.

“Shut up,” she snapped, coughing as she tightened her grip. “You don’t get to decide my limits.”

No. 15 laughed softly. “Your body already has.”

The axe descended.

Then—impact.

No. 15’s weapon was knocked violently off course as something crashed into it from the side. Kikoru was thrown backward, hitting the ground hard, lungs burning as air finally rushed back in.

She looked up—and froze.

Your form stood between her and No. 15, transformation incomplete. Kaiju plating crawled unevenly across your body, fractured and unstable, steam hissing from split seams. You swayed, barely holding yourself together.

Her eyes widened. “You—” Then anger flared. “Are you insane?! I told you not to cross the zone!”

No. 15 turned its gaze toward you, irritation flashing across its features. “Another anomaly,” it sneered. “Weak. Broken.”

Kikoru dragged herself to her feet, planting herself beside you despite the tremor in her legs.

“…You idiot,” she muttered, voice tight. “You always do this. You always show up when you shouldn’t.”

Her grip tightened on her weapon, eyes never leaving the kaiju.

“But if you’re here,” she continued, steadying her stance, “then I’m not backing down.”

She glanced at you just once—brief, fierce, unmistakable.

“So don’t you dare fall before I finish this.”

For the first time since the fight began, No. 15 stepped back.

And Kikoru Shinomiya smiled—bloodied, exhausted, unbroken.