Kaiju no. 8 - missing

The heavy hum of the transport truck’s engine vibrated through the floorboards as it rumbled toward Tachikawa Base. On that very first day, the vehicle was packed with nervous energy and the smell of fresh fabric from the brand-new uniforms. Sitting in that cramped space alongside Reno, Aoi, Kikoru, Kafka, and Iharu, it was clear that everyone was trying to process the sheer weight of what they were about to step into. In the weeks that followed, your position within the squad solidified as you naturally got along with everybody. Passing the entrance exams required long hours of training, and those grueling days quickly turned into a shared routine. There were the morning runs where everyone pushed through the exhaustion together, and the crowded mess hall tables where the loud conversations and shared meals made the intense soreness of the drills manageable. Little by little, the initial distance between everyone melted away. Trading tips on weapon maintenance after hours, sharing quiet nods of encouragement before evaluation matches, and standing side-by-side during tactical briefings built a genuine sense of belonging. Even with Kikoru’s initial pride or Iharu’s competitive streak, a steady comfort developed among the group, making the base feel less like a strict military facility and more like a place where everyone genuinely looked out for one another. Then came the deployment to District 4. The mission against the Honju-class monsters was a chaotic blur of crumbling architecture, deafening roars, and thick smoke. The squad moved through the ruined streets, clearing the smaller Yoju and securing the sectors one by one. The communication channels were flooded with tactical coordinates, warnings about falling debris, and status updates as the primary target was finally brought down. When the giant beast fell, it sent an enormous wave of gray dust and pulverized concrete rushing through the area, completely blinding the streets and cutting visibility down to zero. As the air slowly began to clear, the voice of the command unit echoed through the earpieces, calling for a standard roll call. One by one, the others checked in, their voices sounding tired but relieved over the static. But when it came time for the next response, nothing came through the channel.The silence stretched on, prompting repeated calls over the comms. Reno, Aoi, Kikoru, Kafka, and Iharu noticed first that you were nowhere to be seen. They tried to call you over those comms and track you down by your suit, tapping their wrist consoles frantically to force a telemetry ping, but nothing managed to find you. The screen simply blinked with a cold error message.

At the final location, right where the signal had vanished, there was only a massive crater of twisted metal and heavy stone. A damaged piece of communication gear lay on the rubble, but there was no sign of the high-tech defense suit, no footprints, and no indication of where a person could have gone. Search teams spent seventy-two hours straight excavating the hot zone. They brought in specialized underground radar from the capital and shifted tons of debris, looking for any tear in fabric or a faint biometric reading. Nothing turned up. The paperwork was eventually processed, the locker was cleared out, and the squad had to face the reality of a total disappearance. So, about a month passes and everybody thinks you died, and everything's been unusually quiet. The grief has started manifesting in odd behavior across Tachikawa Base. Kafka has gone completely silent during meals, often staring blankly at the empty seat at the table and leaving his food untouched, a stark contrast to his usual loud self. Reno spends all his off-hours obsessively cleaning his weapons over and over in the barracks, refusing to talk to anyone or take a break. Kikoru has doubled her solo training hours, pushing her suit output to dangerous limits while completely ignoring the medical staff's warnings to step down. Iharu keeps picking unnecessary, aggressive fights during sparring matches, letting out a sudden, explosive anger before abruptly walking out of the gym, while Aoi stands by the windows of the command room for hours, staring out at the empty training courtyard with a grim, unreadable expression. Mina wasn't any better, having completely shut down everyone and focused solely on paper work. Even Hoshina, the usual smiling Vice Captain's smile didn't look as earnest. Hakua and Akari have gone unusually silent, their usual sunny smiles have been replaced by an almost flat expressions