(Y/n) (L/n) works a newspaper job focused on the progress of civilization; she has no real knowledge of any other defense force division units other than the ever-so-popular unit number one.

My heels click against the floor as I open the door to a familiar bar, and the scent of alcohol catches my nose. "Hey Donny..." I say, sighing into my seat after the time I had today at work.

"Hey (Y/n)!" She exclaimed, wiping one of the large beer glasses. "The usual orange juice today?"

Orange juice at the end of the workday tended to be a booster to my brain; it helped me function as I was a frequent flyer at this bar, but today was especially painful. I look over to Donny, eye bags extremely evident as I rub my hands over my face. "No, I don't think so today, maybe a Long Island?"

Donny raised an eyebrow at me while I leaned up against the bar, not bothering to take a seat, as I was only going to have one drink and head home. My boss had assigned me six different covered features to revise and edit today that were to be included in the city-wide Tokyo Times newspaper. Six whole articles about the community and how we are improving civilization as we speak, and only one article will be chosen to be featured in the Tokyo Times newspaper. My shoulders slumped just thinking about how much my fingers hurt from all the typing I had done today. Donny let go of the Long Island Iced tea that she had placed right next to me while shaking her head.

"Days like this really get to you. Just stretch it out and you'll be as good as new!" She smiled at me. That's what I loved about her. Always positive and not an advocate for alcohol, even though she worked at a bar. I nodded along in agreement with her as she continued to talk to me about shaking off the bad feelings of today when I heard the familiar sound of the doorbell jingling, signalling that someone had entered the bar. "Welcome in! Take a seat. What can I get for you?" She asked cheerfully while fully elbowing the side of my arm.

I was mid-sip of my Long Island Iced tea when she knocked into me. My next victim! Well, not really in a bad sense of mind. She only nudged me if she thought someone who entered the bar was worth sleeping with. Just a quick picker-upper for my day. A little bit of relaxation and the fulfillment of certain needs help you through the rest of the week. I finished my drink before I knew it, already feeling the giddy feeling of being tipsy, but of course not drunk.

"Slow down there, you'll get yourself sick." The stranger said from across the bar. I hadn't even bothered to look at him until I placed the empty glass on the table. "I'll have a coffee, thank you." he took a chair at the bar.

I was dazed. This was not the typical guy that Donny would go for. She liked the larger men, you know, the ones who could throw you around. This man was taller than me, but also on the smaller, skinnier end. Before responding, I gave Donny a questionable 'Wtf?' look. The other customers all stared at the guy.

Sure, he was handsome, but it wasn't all that like 'oh im so hot look at me!' kind of handsome. "Well, since you care, buy me an orange juice?" I smiled at him.

"There she goes...." I hear Donny chuckle behind the counter as she's pouring the man coffee.

"I suppose an orange juice as well for this lady." The man gave me an inquisitive look, curious. "Why an orange juice, though?" Donny nods at him while he holds his freshly made cup of coffee with both hands.

"I assume most men like it when there's a dose of vitamin D in their women." I shrug off the simple but naughty joke. I could tell the guy was flabbergasted and tried to hold back a giggle. I've used this one a time or two, and it never fails to be as funny as I want it.

"Here I was thinking I was the odd one out, drinking just coffee in a bar." He said, taking a sip before sighing in relaxation. "Most people come to bars to forget things, but it seems like you're not here for that."

I looked between him and Donny, I gave a knowing sigh, and smiled at him, "Our bartender here is a friend of mine. I'm a frequent flyer here, but not much of a drinker. I try to find something better for me."

He hummed into his coffee cup, "So, orange juice is your something better?"

I grinned, "Better than blacking out and regretting a playlist of decisions the next morning."

"Full of surprises, I see."

"I get that a lot," I say while taking another sip of my orange juice. "You don't seem like the forgetful type either."

He let out a laugh and smoothed his thumb over the rim of his coffee. "No, I remember too much, hence the coffee. Helps to keep me sharp even when I would rather be asleep."

"Then what are you doing here? Night therapy?" I question, mouth hovering over my cup.

"I just needed a change of scenery. Wasn't really expecting conversation.... And citrus."

I snorted up my orange juice and coughed in my cup loud, unexpected laughter. Oh my god, that was actually funny. He started cackling at the picture of Donny tossing me napkins as I'm fighting down the tears from the burning sensation down my nose. Funny. Noted.

"You have a laugh that makes a guy wanna keep earning it." He smiles at me

I clear up the coughing and shoot back, "And you've got a voice that makes orange juice dangerous."

He put down his mostly finished cup of coffee, his head rolled back in laughter. "So...should we talk or continue flirting from a distance?"

A guy who takes initiative. Score.

__________

The next morning arrived, the sun draping through the blinds as it did every morning, while I looked through the hotel room.

Almost a sigh of acceptance escaped my lips when I noticed a small slip of paper sitting on the coffee table

"If I ever see you again, I'll give you my number," I read aloud. I'm baffled as I stare at the cringe winky face he drew on the slip. "You're kidding me." I pace around the house a few times before I yell out in frustration, "Bro, what the fu-"

_________

The after-work orange juice hit me hard.
It had been two days since that night.
Two days since I hooked up with a guy who looked like he'd been plucked straight out of some underground fantasy fanfic — except real, and naked, and absolutely wrecking my sense of sanity.

The moment I'd seen his shirt come off, I thought I was hallucinating. Every muscle on him looked like it had been chiseled by ancient gods. And the way he touched me — his hands rough, but reverent. Like he knew what he was doing and wanted to do it until I couldn't remember my own name. And believe me, I didn't. Not until the next morning.

This was stupid. Completely stupid. It was just sex, wasn't it?

Except it wasn't. It had left me feeling like I was clawing at the walls ever since, restless, wired, wanting more. Worse, needing more. I was ruined. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Hormones all over the place.

So I did what any sad, sex-starved woman in her twenties would do: I bought donuts. A whole box. Powdered, chocolate-glazed, jelly-filled. Six guilt-ridden, sugar-packed reminders that sometimes food is the only reliable man in your life.

I told myself, firmly, that if I was eating to cope, the calories didn't count. It was science. Or maybe emotional algebra. Whatever.

It was also cleaning day, because of course, I had to do something productive with my spiraling.
Stripping out of my work clothes, I threw on my favorite oversized T-shirt,  the one with the stupid little bear on it, and a pair of soft pajama shorts that barely covered my thighs. Earbuds in, volume high, music louder. I set the plate of donuts on my hand like it was a sacred offering, grabbed my vacuum cleaner, and pressed play on my chaos-cleaning playlist.

Phone in my back pocket. Phone playing music. Vibes immaculate.

What I didn't hear was the Kaiju alert.
Didn't hear the sirens. Didn't see the emergency text. Didn't notice the soft tremors underfoot.
Too distracted. Too wrapped up in my own cleaning party.

Which is why, when I walked into my living room with my donuts in one hand and the vacuum cleaner in the other, I looked up and froze completely paralyzed by something that should've only existed in nightmares or war footage.
A kaiju.

Not on TV. Not in the streets.

In. My. Apartment.

Its hulking frame barely fit between the walls. Its limbs braced against either side of the room, crushing furniture like they were made of cardboard. Scales shimmered in mottled colors, eyes glowing like molten lava. And then its head tilted... right at me.

It saw me.

Its jaw unhinged, slowly. Slime dripped from serrated teeth, strings of it hitting my rug with soft plap noises.

I screamed.

The plate of donuts tumbled from my hand, crashing onto the carpet in a powdery, jelly-filled mess. My body tried to move faster than it could — I scrambled backward, fell straight on my butt with a painful thud, and kicked my heels against the floor, trying to get away.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Adrenaline thundered through my veins.

Get away. Get away. GET AWAY!

I tried to reach for anything, my couch pillow, the vacuum, hell, even a decorative vase. My fingers hit the plate, already cracked in half, sugar and ceramic dust coating my skin and, sadly, my beautiful carpet. In a panicked flail, I chucked it at the kaiju's face.

It bounced off. Did nothing. Useless. Hopeless. I was gonna die, covered in donut glaze, in my cleaning day pajamas. What a headline that would be.

The kaiju's head lowered. Mouth opened wider.
I saw my death in slow motion.

Everything flashed,  all the stupid, lovely moments I thought I'd have time to appreciate later. My first time riding a bike. The day I bought my car. Late-night karaoke with my coworkers. The time I got hired for my newspaper job and cried in a bathroom stall because I didn't believe it was real.

And that night. With him.

The way he looked at me was like he wasn't supposed to. Like he was memorizing me for some other version of the world where we didn't have to leave each other's beds. I flinched.
Suddenly massive slicing sound tore through the air like steel tearing silk.

The kaiju didn't reach me.

Instead, its head snapped sideways as something slammed into it, throwing its entire body into the far wall of my apartment. It hit with the sound of crunching metal and collapsing drywall. My shelves toppled. My lamp broke. The power flickered once and died like it should have when it ate through the wall in the first place.

For a second, I didn't breathe.

Then, through the fog of dust and broken furniture, a figure stepped into the smoke. Broad-shouldered. Glowing blades resting against his back like an extension of his will. Armor hugged his form, but I could still see the way his muscles shifted beneath the gear, tension and purpose in every stride.

He turned toward me, and the light caught his face.

I blinked. My brain struggled to compute.
No. No fucking way.

"You?!" I gasped, voice half-choked, eyes wide. Butt still on the floor, and donut jelly dripping even more on my carpet.

"Me." He grinned

The kaiju howled in pain, a monstrous, bone-rattling sound that shook the walls. Its body spasmed, convulsing as it tried to regenerate. Blackened muscle and glowing sinew began to twitch, pulling together, stitching up wounds that had just been inflicted.

But my eyes weren't on it.

They were locked on him.

The man stood between me and the beast, backlit by the shattered remains of my apartment hallway. His blade still sizzled from the last strike. Bits of kaiju matter clung to the edge like ash. And yet, as if this kind of encounter were routine, he turned, slow and steady, and looked me over. His gaze raked over my entire body.

Not cold. Not clinical. Not even professional. He was hungry.

Even though I was on the floor, covered in dust and donut jelly, shirt askew, hair a mess, and dignity somewhere in a puddle of glaze — he looked at me like I was the main course. His mouth quirked at the corner in amusement. There was mischief there, curiosity too, but mostly... thirst. The kind that made my stomach twist.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat as he eyed the carnage around us. "Well," he drawled, voice just as annoyingly attractive as I remembered, "I told you I'd leave you my number the next time I saw you... But turns out I'm a little busy." His eyes flicked down to the floor beside me. "And I see you're a little busy too."

My gaze followed his. The plate of donuts. Absolutely destroyed. One had been flattened beneath a clawed foot. Jelly splattered against the wall. Powdered sugar floated through the air like sad confetti.

He moved before I could answer, blade flashing again in a wide, practiced arc, slicing clean through the kaiju's core with terrifying ease. It didn't even get the chance to finish regenerating. The body spasmed, then started to disintegrate, soft glowing embers burning away what was left. But even as he moved, even as he fought, he wasn't looking at the kaiju, he was watching me.
As the last of the kaiju sizzled into nonexistence, he exhaled and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I can meet you at the bar. Same time next week if you're still interested."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, like I was seeing him for the first time; not just a man I'd slept with, but someone who clearly walked around with monsters in one hand and heartbreak in the other.

"You're a Defense Force officer?" I asked, breathless.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a small, amused hum. "Didn't know we were gonna get personal like this." Then he looked off to the side, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Well, something like that..." His hand rose to his ear. A soft click. "I'm on the way," he muttered, voice sharper now. Focused. He let go of the earpiece and turned to glance at me over his shoulder,  just as he started walking toward the gaping hole in the wall where my apartment used to be whole.

"Wait, stop—" I called out, panicked, flustered, not ready for this interaction to be over.

"Sorry, princess," he said without missing a beat. "I have things to do."

My entire body flinched. The nickname hit like a punch to the chest and a kiss to the thigh all at once. I shivered. Involuntarily. I hated how good that sounded from his mouth.

He was already at the edge of the building now, stepping onto the broken ledge with terrifying ease, looking like he belonged on top of the world and not inside my crumbling apartment.

"I don't even know your name!" I called after him, heart pounding.

He turned back, smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing. "I see," he said with a grin. "Well, my official title is Vice-Captain Hoshina Soshiro, at your service." Then, without another word, he launched himself off the side of the building.

Gone. Just like that.

Silence returned. The dust settled. The donut jelly on my pants began to dry. I didn't move. I couldn't. My brain was catching up, slowly, horrifically.

Vice-captain.

VICE. CAPTAIN.

I let out a long, strangled noise as I slowly, and I mean slowly, sank to my knees again, my hands coming up to clutch my face in raw, feral mortification. "Oh my god," I whispered. "I slept with a Vice-Captain of the Defense Force." The guy who destroyed a kaiju with a sword in my hallway. The guy who called me princess and made my toes curl from one word. The guy who made me scream in bed and terror within two days. I curled forward, forehead to the floor, surrounded by donut crumbs and the scent of burnt kaiju.

"I am so screwed."