Surprise flashed briefly across Orenji's face as he watched Kiel come to an abrupt stop, his body unnaturally still. The sharp movement left Orenji staring, his breath caught in his throat.
"Is he—" Orenji's voice trailed off, uncertainty threading through his words, his eyes locked on Kiel, searching for any sign of what had gone wrong.
Kaname stepped forward, her presence cutting through the tension like a blade. Her gaze was focused, sharp, as she analyzed every detail of Kiel's form. "No," she responded, her voice low and calm. "Not yet, at least." She took another step closer, her eyes never leaving Kiel. "He's in a state of heightened focus. It's a form of deep concentration, almost like being on the edge of a dream. He's still here, but everything else... fades away. He's locked in on one thing and is more open to influence, for better or worse."
Orenji's brows furrowed, his concern deepening as he looked between Kaname and Kiel. The explanation was meant to ease his worry, but the weight of the moment lingered, heavy and oppressive. He could feel it, the tension that seemed to thicken the air around them. He knew Kiel's power was dangerous—volatile. The boy was a storm, his young mind not fully grasping the magnitude of what he held within.
Kaname understood the risks better than anyone. She saw the tension in Orenji's posture, the way his jaw clenched with unease. She gave him a brief look—steady, a silent reassurance. It was a look that said, Trust me.
She turned back to Kiel, her gaze softening slightly, though the gravity of the situation weighed heavily in her eyes. If Kiel sank too deeply into this trance-like state, there was a danger far worse than mere distraction. The monster lying dormant within him—the side he couldn't fully control—could awaken, taking over with an unpredictable and terrifying force.
They were walking on a knife's edge.
"Alright," she continued, her voice firm as she addressed Orenji. "Only I speak to him. Too much input will pull him in too many directions. We can't risk that."
Orenji nodded, swallowing hard as he took a step back. His eyes lingered on Kiel, unease still gnawing at him, but he understood. He had to trust Kaname. She was the only one who knew how to handle this.
Kaname took a breath, steadying herself as she stepped closer to Kiel. Her voice softened, taking on a quiet, almost hypnotic rhythm. "Kiel," she began, her words threading through the stillness. "Can you hear me?"
There was a long pause, the silence stretching between them before Kiel responded. His hands moved slowly, with an eerie precision, signing the words. "Yes." His eyes remained shut, his body unnervingly still.
"This is Kaname," she continued, her tone gentle, her words deliberate. "I need to ask you some things. Is that okay?"
Another slow, deliberate nod, followed by the movement of his hands. "Yes."
Kaname's eyes stayed fixed on him, her voice dropping lower, carrying a calming cadence. "What happened before you came here? What brought you to this place, Kiel? Can you remember?"
Her words seemed to drift into the quiet space around him, and for a moment, nothing happened. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, the memory began to stir within Kiel, pulling him back toward something dark, something that had driven him here.
---
As a young boy, Kiel had been captivated by the idea of heroism. He idolized every Claive, dreaming of becoming one himself, despite knowing that, as a Kaiju, he was the very thing the Claives were sworn to destroy. The cruel irony hadn't crushed his spirit; instead, it had ignited something deeper within him. Every day, he worked harder, hoping that his actions could somehow defy his nature. But the world wasn't so forgiving.
The day of the attempted execution was a horrifying reminder of that.
He could still hear the roar of the mob, the way their hatred had seemed to fill the very air, suffocating him. The advanced technology of their world had done nothing to dull the primal cruelty of human nature. He remembered the way the rope had cut into his skin, binding him to the vehicle, his body dragged through the streets as the crowd shouted for his death.
"Devil! Demon!" The words echoed in his mind, the fury in their voices blending into a deafening roar.
The sting of gasoline soaked through his clothes, the acrid scent burning his nose. The crowd surged, a wave of hatred and malice, and Kiel could feel his hands trembling as he tried to sign, "Please… I'm not a monster. Don't do this."
But the crowd saw only silence. To them, his desperate hand signs were nothing more than a mockery. Their anger swelled, growing wilder, more vicious. He saw a man step forward, his face twisted in a grin of pure malice. He held a Molotov cocktail in his hand, the flame flickering ominously.
"Let's burn this demon and send him back to hell where he belongs!"
Kiel's heart pounded, his hands moving frantically, signing again and again, "I didn't hurt anyone. Please... don't..." His vision blurred, tears welling in his eyes.
The man hurled the Molotov, the bottle spinning through the air—and then, a gunshot rang out, shattering the silence. The Molotov exploded mid-air, flames bursting in all directions, engulfing the man who had thrown it.
Chaos erupted. Screams filled the air as the crowd scattered, the sudden violence breaking their frenzy. Officers descended from above, firing knockout gas to disperse the mob. In the midst of it all, Kiel lay crumpled on the ground, his head bleeding, his hands still signing, "I didn't do it... I didn't do it..." over and over, as if trying to convince himself.
His hands began to glow, his fear awakening something deep within him. The power he had always tried to suppress, the force that lay dormant in his veins, began to stir.
One of the officers, his face hidden behind a mask, noticed the boy on the ground. He saw the glow, the trembling hands, the blood-soaked hair. He heard the warnings from his colleagues, telling him to stay away from the "dangerous creature," but he ignored them. Instead, he approached, his steps slow and deliberate.
Kiel was shaking, his small body quaking with terror. The officer could see the child behind the fear—the boy who was trapped in the form of a Kaiju. Slowly, he knelt beside Kiel, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay," he said, his voice gentle, cutting through the chaos around them. "You're safe now."
Kiel's hands paused mid-air, his wide, tear-filled eyes looking up at the officer. For a moment, he couldn't comprehend the kindness being shown to him. Hesitating, he let the officer pull him into a protective embrace, his trembling body finally relaxing in the warmth of human contact.
The officer held him close, ignoring the shouted warnings from his colleagues. He didn't see a monster. He saw a frightened boy, in desperate need of comfort. Kiel clung to him, the tears he had tried to suppress finally falling, his sobs muffled against the officer's chest.
For the first time in his life, Kiel felt something he hadn't known in so long—he felt safe.