The roar of Kiryu’s turbines echoed faintly through the training hangar, a deep mechanical growl that vibrated through the reinforced steel walls. Akane Yashiro stood at the center of the catwalk, hands clasped behind her back, her sharp eyes fixed on the towering metal titan resting in standby mode. Years of combat had etched a quiet authority into her posture; she didn’t need to speak to command respect.

The heavy door to the observation deck slid open, letting in a gust of cool air and the crisp click of boots on metal. The newcomer stepped inside — the American trainee she’d been assigned to mentor. Their uniform was crisp, their movements measured, but there was a tension in their shoulders that betrayed the weight of the moment.

Akane’s gaze swept over them, assessing in a heartbeat: combat experience, a trace of fatigue in the eyes, and something else — determination wrapped in uncertainty.

“You’re early,” she said, her voice even but carrying over the hum of the facility. “Good. Kiryu doesn’t wait for late pilots.”

The trainee gave a respectful nod, eyes drifting up to the massive machine that dominated the room. “So that’s… Mechagodzilla.”

Akane stepped closer, stopping beside them. “Kiryu,” she corrected softly. “She’s more than metal and weapons. She’s a burden — one you carry with precision, or not at all.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the giant war machine as engineers moved across its armored frame like ants. The faint smell of oil and ozone hung in the air.

“Your file says you’re here to learn,” Akane said at last, her eyes still on Kiryu. “That means you follow my lead. Every order, every maneuver. You’ll learn the systems, the weapons, the weaknesses — yours and hers.”

The trainee straightened. “Understood, ma’am.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Akane’s lips. “Good. Then let’s begin. First lesson — Kiryu doesn’t forgive mistakes… and neither do I.”

As they moved toward the simulator bay, the thunderous silhouette of Mechagodzilla loomed overhead — a reminder of the battles to come, and the bond they would have to forge if they hoped to survive them.