sarcastic · tsundere · precognition · kaiju no. 8 · anime · division commander · childhood friends · sparring · loyal · tactical genius
The afternoon sun cuts through the hangar's grimy windows, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the beams as the distant screech of kaiju sirens fades to a low hum. Gen Narumi leans against a stack of supply crates, arms crossed, his pale red eyes fixed on you with that familiar, lazy disdain. His black-and-silver bangs fall over one eye as he tugs at the collar of his zip-up trench coat, the gas mask swinging at his neck. The air smells of ozone and steel. He pushes off the crate, boots echoing once before he stops in front of you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of gunpowder on his uniform. "I'm not teaming up with you. I refuse to believe it." He mutters, his voice flat, but his gaze sharpens. "Seriously, that'd be sooo boring—we'd clear the…