Disclaimer: Godzilla is property of Toho Studios. I do not own Godzilla or any other aspect of the original 1954 film, nor do I profit from this fan fic.

Hisashi Miura, his sister Chiyo, Kana, and Toru are all my own original creations.

Tokyo Bay

By Kuroneko19

Part I: A Deceptive Calm

The seasons pass without a care, without a thought. With each season, another is born, and another dies, be it in winter's cold embrace or in summer's warm sunshine. With each season I witness, all I can see is the blinding ignorance of youth, and the carefree nature of our future. As I watch so many hapless teens in their throes of youthful romanticism, and as I see young couples straying from their marital vows, it calls to mind a sick feeling that the generation I now watch from my window knows nothing of true pain, of true happiness, and I realize just how vulnerable this generation is.

How many of us can recall a night so dark that not even the brightest of lights could be seen? How many of us can reminisce a time where the miasma was so thick you could feel it in your hands? How many of us remain to recall that one moment when our hearts were scarred forever, when our lives reached an unbearable climax in only one night of chilling terror? Are there any remaining of those who breathed that one collective sigh of relief when morning finally dawned, and the sun's blinding rays obliterated the shadows of the night?

Not so many of us remain. Those who could have lived to tell the tale we found the next morning as twisted, mangled corpses, their faces contorted in agony and fear. The shocking reality was that not one of us was safe from that fate: men, women, children, or the unborn still developing in their mothers' wombs. We were all subject to such victimization. Those who managed to struggle through the night either died of shock and radiation poisoning, or remained scarred for eternity.

My name is Hisashi Miura. I am sixty-four years of age, and I live in Meguro-ku, Tokyo, Japan, in whose urban confines I have resided for nearly forty years now. For forty years, I have watched the seasons pass across the same buildings, across the same stretch of skyline. It is never the same. Buildings are thrown down, and skyscrapers of unimaginable height take their places, only to be thrown down themselves, years later. Even the neighborhood in which I live has changed over the years. While the Nakemeguro River never ceases to flow, and the sakura blossom with every spring that passes, there is that knowledge that change comes with every passing day. There was once an old man who would spend his nights on one of the benches by the Nakameguro. He would tell stories to the children that played, share pieces of lunch with the ducks that waddled toward him, and he would even throw crumbs of food out to the fishes swimming in the river. He was fond of nature, and he would often take strolls under the branched of the sakura trees. Although he was homeless, he never carried himself as such. It was as though he knew a secret, which he kept hidden with a pleasant smile. He stayed in my neighborhood for many seasons, until one summer I looked out my window to discover the bench bare, and not a trace of the old man. For the longest time, I would peer out my window overlooking the river, in hopes that I would see him walking along the bank. For several weeks, I kept my vigil. In the end, I refrained from looking for him.

My home is across the street from the river's edge. Sometimes, when I get the urge, I take walks along the fence along the riverbank, shaded beneath the sakura trees. During the spring, my granddaughter and I catch the blossoms that sail in the wind, away from the trees. Near the winter, just before the trees gain that bare, dead look they always do, my granddaughter brings back the sakura blossoms, looking as they did during the spring, and we stand outside my home, letting the wind pick the blossoms out of our hands, sending them floating gently into the river. They seem so peaceful, floating along in the chilly water. It is just another reminder that life is a river, and sometimes currents take us away slowly, so we can take in the scene around us, and sometimes the currents go too fast we go under without even a thought.

It seems so long ago, that night back in 1954. When I watched the river flow yesterday, and I saw the leaves turning colors, it suddenly dawned on me just how long ago my life, and the lives of others were caught up in a river of darkness. Yet, I can still smell the scent of burning flesh and charred buildings. I can still see futons and tatami mats going up flames in small homes. I can still see it all now, all these many years later, as though it all had happened just yesterday.

I remember waking up earlier than usual one morning, about a week or so before the incident. It was so early that not even my father was up. My father was an early riser when he was alive. It seemed so strange to watch my father sleep. He always went to bed after the rest of the family.

I think that that is the only memory that I have of my father when he was not working, bathing, or eating. It is so odd to realize that that one image would be the last one I had of him while he was alive.

My mother and sister, Chiyo, soon awoke after me, and we left my father to sleep. Mother explained to us that morning that Father had worked very late the previous evening, and he would not be able to come home for a few days, so he needed his rest. Chiyo and I understood little then about how hard it was for our father to manage the Nankai Steamship Company, as well as ensure that I would be able to go to college one day, and that Chiyo would be suitably married. Father always planned, you see. He never liked things to come at him unexpectedly.

Nevertheless, we obeyed. When I was a child growing up, it was taught that parents were never to be questioned, out of respect.

Chiyo and I were out of school for the week, due to the strange disappearances of the Eiko-maru and the Bingo-maru. Everyone was scared and confused, and many mothers kept their children home with them to listen for news of their husbands. In the end, all of us were granted the week off which, back then, was almost unheard of. Education was highly valued back then, more so than it is today, and such matters as days off from school were never treated lightly.

Chiyo stayed home with mother that day to help her with the cleaning. I remember going to see my friends, Toru Inoue and Kana Takahashi. We walked around our neighborhood, talking about school, talking about what we wanted to be when we finished school; our usual chatter. We speculated about what was going on in Tokyo, and how many soldiers from the Self-Defense Forces we each had met the day before. The boats had disappeared only a week or so ago, but there was still tension among families of mariners, such as Toru's. Toru's cousin had been on the Bingo-maru when it disappeared, and his entire family had shown up at my father's office door the day they heard, demanding information. After the Steamship Company's office had been swamped for over four days, Father had to lock himself and his employees in the building until closing. I remember one evening when Father jokingly admitted that he actually exited through a back entrance, along with his office staff, one evening, in order to avoid the press and distraught family members. I remember how Toru never talked about his family problems (I believe there were many), but the day that he got the news of his cousin, Toshiro, he came to our home, and politely asked my father for some kind of news. The look on Father's face must have told him something, because Toru immediately thanked him, and apologized for his abrupt appearance. That was the only time I ever saw Toru distraught.

At least, that was the only time before the incident.

Kana was perhaps the only female companion either of us ever had. We went to an all boys' school, and Kana went to an all girls' school. We had known each other for years, and were friends for the longest time. Kana was two years younger than Toru, and only a month younger than I was. I remember how she looked back then: she had long hair that shimmered in the sunlight, and she always pulled it back in ponytail. She rarely wore it down. During that year, I had begun to wish that she would wear her hair down more often…

That day, Kana had tied her hair back with a pale yellow ribbon, matching the dress she wore. It is so hard to believe that I can remember so much. I remember how brightly the sun shone that day, and how warm it was outside…

That evening, Father did not come home. Mother reminded us that he would return soon, and added that he had requested that we behave ourselves. Chiyo and I obeyed, of course, but we both could not help but feel awkward that Father would not be home that evening and perhaps not for many evenings following. Even when a typhoon or tsunami hit, Father was never absent from home, even if he came home very late, he always made it home at night.

I could not help but feel that it would be a long night without him.

I remember waking up sometime in the night to hear what sounded like loud footsteps. At first, I thought a burglar was on the roof, but soon I came to realize that the sound was nowhere near our home. Mother and Chiyo soon awakened, but not until after I had run out the door to look around, waving a flashlight around me insanely. I looked to the sky, and saw bright flashes of light emitting over Tokyo Bay. Being a young boy at the time my curiosity was far more prominent than my fear, and I set the flashlight down at the base of the old tree next to our house, and climbed it quickly in order to stand on the roof.

The flares continued to light up the starless sky, first spiraling upward into the darkness, and then slowly descending like parachuted dancers, creating an eerie light over Tokyo Bay. I remember standing on the roof, watching the light cast long shadows over the boats, and seeing it all bathed in white, the masts of the larger boats merely silhouettes.

At first, I thought I was seeing things; that the flashes were playing tricks on my eyes. It took me a moment, but when the next round of flares launched, I knew that what I saw was no illusion:

Standing in Tokyo Bay, towering over the highest sail and the tallest building stood an enormous figure. It looked around, and turned its enormous body in the direction of the flares. Finally, it sank beneath the waves, its tail flitting about, sending up enormous waves over several of the boats, many of which capsized.

I stood on the roof of my home in awe. The sea churned, and several piers rocked along with the waves. The flares continued to dance in the sky, reminding me of a theatre lighted in the evening. The character of this play, however, wore no mask, no costume. Something had appeared, and that something should have been an impossibility. I found my mind in a whirlwind – what could I have thought after seeing such a thing?

A small, frightened voice several feet away from me broke my concentration.

"Oh, my God… What on Earth was that?"

I turned my head in the direction of the trembling voice. Kana's pale face, illuminated by the light of the flares from the bay, looked back at me, eyes wide with fright. The look in her eyes told me everything – she, too, had seen what I had seen. In the distance, sirens blared, and flashing red and white lights sped toward the bay.

It was as though Japan went back over a million years. That night, I could have sworn I saw a dinosaur in Tokyo Bay.

I do not think anyone slept that night. I know I did not – my mind was so fixated on the apparition in the bay that sleep evaded me entirely. Chiyo lay restless on her futon, sleep never quite catching up to her. Mother never even tried to sleep – instead, she stayed vigil at the window looking out to the street, and she lifted her eyes to look at the bay, only to be constantly interrupted by either the phone or neighbors knocking at the door. By midnight, our street was so alive with human activity that sleep was impossibility. Tossing back my sheets, I joined my mother, who by this time stood in the doorway. Mother and I looked at one another, and then turned concerned eyes to the street, which was now so congested with people, that there were many standing in our yard. I had never seen so many panic-stricken people up until that point. I felt as though I was in a sort of science fiction film, not unlike the ones American audiences would flock to back in the 1950s.

The moment Mother stepped outside of our house she was flocked by our neighbors' wives, some of which clutched their infant children to their bosoms. I could tell from the look on my mother's face that she was somewhat happy to be surrounded by her friends – but she was also somewhat irritated. It was at that moment I realized that Mother was waiting for Father to return. I could understand her anxiety: the Nankai Steamship Company's office, where my father worked, was located at the bay. The company had maybe seven or eight piers in Tokyo alone.

If you go to Tokyo Bay today, I doubt you could find which piers belonged to my father's company. The Nankai Steamship Company closed many years ago and, there are few today who can remember when it existed. The original building has been gone for decades, and the building that replaced it was torn down in the late 1990s. Today, in its place, there is a small lunch box factory, which sends its products off to different countries, such as Korea and the United States.

Sometimes, when I look out the balcony window of my apartment, I can see the smoke emitting from the factory's many chimneys. At night, I can see the hundreds of lights blinking, their reflections in the bay dancing as the waters move. On these occasions, I pretend that I can still see my father's building in its place, and that I can hear the sound of boat horns as they pull in for the night.

When I was a much younger man, a boy in fact, I used to visualize what it would have been like if my father were to have walked through the front door and discovered that his son was alive. I wanted to think that he would have swept me up in his arms. Father had never been the most affectionate of men. Nevertheless, had my father survived and my dream realized, I have a suspicion that he may have even cried.

Someone grabbed my shoulder, and I jumped in surprise.

"Hisashi-chan, it's me," Toru's voice said from behind. I turned around and saw that he still wore the clothes he had earlier. Kana was a few feet behind him, a pale gray sleeping kimono around her, the obi slightly askew. Her hair was pinned up, but there were wisps of jet-black framing her bewildered face. Kana had big, startlingly grey eyes that always reminded me of the sea during a storm.

I have always loved the sea, even when I was too young to recall. My mother used to tell me that when she used to visit Father at work on occasion, she would take me with her. I was a very small child at the time, I suppose. She said that I was always transfixed on the sea: the way it glittered in the sunlight, the way it rolled just before a typhoon or tsunami. I still do that in my old age. Sometimes I take the train out to the bay just to look at the waters…

That night, Kana's eyes were waters of confusion and fear. After my mother caught sight of Kana and Toru, she gave me a quick nod, an indication that I had permission to talk with them, before the swarm of wives engulfed her completely.

The three of us walked quickly to the back of my home, where the voices of the many adults and the sounds of screaming infants were only slightly diminished. From what I could hear over the panicked voices of my neighbors, sirens continued to wail throughout the city, heading toward the bay. Toru, Kana, and I could only stand and stare at one another. The sirens seemed so unearthly, and when I looked toward the city, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles danced along the buildings like dashing specters, flitting about a panicked Tokyo.

"Onii-chan?" I felt a small, almost timid tug on my nightshirt. I looked behind me, and saw my baby sister, Chiyo, looking back, clinging to her stuffed turtle.

Chiyo was not a baby, although I have referred to her as such. Chiyo and I were born four years apart. I was thirteen back in 1954 – Chiyo was a rather timid nine-year-old back then, and she stubbornly clung to an old stuffed turtle that our mother had given her when Chiyo was an infant. I remember, growing up, that no matter how old Chiyo was, that turtle, which she had named "Gamera", after a Guardian of myth that our grandmother once told us about, was always in her arms, which was something I could never understand. Gammy, as Chiyo had affectionately nicknamed it, was not much to look at – it was an ordinary dark green stuffed turtle with black eyes and a small pink mouth. But she loved that turtle. Even at nine years of age, Chiyo had to be constantly reminded by Mother that Gammy was not meant to attend school.

It is funny how such things we take for granted – seemingly trivial little things that we rarely take into deep consideration – can seem so important to us after something happens in our lives. I had always seen Chiyo's attachment to Gammy as a trivial matter; that she would one day forget her stuffed turtle and it would be cast into the lonely confinements of a cardboard box in storage, waiting for Chiyo to one day pass it down to her own children.

"Nii-chan?" Chiyo repeated rather sleepily. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her right hand, her left hand clutching one of Gammy's flippers.

"Chiyo-chan, what are you doing up so late?" Kana asked, her voice filled with concern. Kana loved Chiyo. Kana had been raised as an only child, you see, and she had always longed for a younger sister. Chiyo had me, a brother, and she admired Kana from the moment she met her.

"I couldn't sleep," Chiyo said. "There's too much noise, and it upsets Gammy."

Kana extended a hand to my sister. Chiyo gave her a small smile, and accepted. She clung to Kana's arm like a life preserver.

The shouting and confusion continued out on the street. The sounds were so varied, so voluminous, that I was positive they were not merely coming from my neighborhood. It sounded as though the whole of Tokyo had suddenly come to life.

"The entire city must be awake," I said, a chill running through my body.

"Toru-kun, just what was that thing?" Kana asked, her voice wavering. "I mean, you did see it, right?"

Toru nodded. The Inoues lived close to the bay because of the family's trade.

"I saw it," he said. His face was paler than the moon. "But I don't know exactly what it was."

"I thought I was going crazy," I said, scratching my head in confusion. "I could have sworn that I saw a dinosaur out there!"

"That's what I thought, too," Kana admitted.

"Well, you're not too far off…" Toru spoke slowly, as though he had something on his mind.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kana demanded. Her eyes were so wide they were nearly perfect circles.

Toru set his mouth in a thin line. His face was so serious… he looked far more mature than his twelve years of life.

"I heard something a little over a week ago," Toru began, speaking slowly. "After the Eiko-maru and the Bingo-maru – the two boats that went up in flames – after those two boats went down, Hishashi-chan and Chiyo-chan's father allowed Dr. Kyohei Yamane to take a boat out to Odo Island."

"Odo Island? Where is that?" Kana's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

"Papa-sama told us about it," Chiyo said. "He said it was… uh…"

"Oto-sama said it was the island near where the accidents took place," I interjected. "Dr. Yamane went to the island after a group went there to question the natives. Something happened on both occasions, but Oto-sama wouldn't tell me what all took place." I looked at Toru and cocked an eyebrow. "You know something, then?"

"Well, I know might something," Toru said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Do you remember my cousin, Hideto Ogata?"

I remembered Ogata-kun very well. Father had hired the marine officer a while back, and Ogata-kun was one of the few members of Toru's rather extensive family who had done well in life. He and Toru were rather close. He was also very close to Dr. Yamane's daughter, Emiko, as I recalled. Emiko-san was a very kind, caring lady, and she was rather pretty, too. I had always hoped that Ogata-kun would be able to marry Emiko-san. Dr. Yamane had intended her to marry a colleague of his, from what I understood at the time. I remember a time when Emiko-san said that, although she did truly love her intended – a doctor by the name of Daisuke Serizawa – she said that she cared for him more as she would a brother than she would a husband. She knew that it would hurt for him to eventually tell him that she was in love with Toru's cousin, but she also knew that it feel a bit awkward being married to a man she had always seen as an older brother.

"What does your cousin have to do with this?" Kana asked.

"Well, Hideto-kun went on the expedition with Yamane-kun and Emiko-san," Toru explained. "He told me before he left that he would keep an eye out for Toshiro-chan." His face saddened. "It turned out that he was one of the men who died out there at the island. Hideto-kun found out from one of the natives. Toshiro-chan died in the man's arms, he said."

I felt as though a very large sack of rice had hit me. Toru had been very attached to Toshiro-chan. Toshiro-chan was one of the nicest and one of the most caring members of Toru's family, and he was a fine mariner, as well. He was also one of the primary sources of the Inoue family's income. I could hardly have imagined the grief Toru's family must have felt when they heard the news.

"That wasn't the only thing they found out, though," Toru continued. "During the expedition, they discovered that many of the homes had been destroyed. A storm blew through the island during the first group's excursion. Hideto-kun said that the damage could not possibly have been storm-induced, however."

"What did he mean by that?" Kana asked, kneeling down to Chiyo's height.

Toru shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know what he was talking about. He also said that Yamane-kun found traces of radiation. Even their water sources were contaminated!"

"Radioactivity?" I shouted over a new wave of shouts coming from the street. "How do you get radioactivity in a place like that?"

"That's something else that I don't understand, either," Toru had to raise his voice as well. "Anyway, they continued to look around, and then Yamane-kun found a trilobite – "

"A trilobite?" I interrupted. "That's impossible! Those things are extinct!"

"Yes, I know, will you let me continue?" Toru snapped. I silenced myself immediately. Toru seldom lost his temper, and if he ever did, it was only because he was involved in a serious situation. Snapping at me then indicated that there must have been something very wrong. Toru quickly composed himself, and continued. "Not too long after that, the emergency bell tolled, and everyone ran to the big hill on the island. Apparently, they had seen something. Hideto-kun told me that, before they made it to the top, however, whatever-it-was that they had spotted appeared over the hill." Toru's eyes widened a bit. "He said he thought he was seeing things, but everyone was screaming and shouting and running – he knew he that could not have imagining it all."

Toru lowered his head, as though in disbelief.

"What did he see?" Kana's voice was hesitant.

Toru looked up at her, his face grim.

"He said he saw a dinosaur."

I felt my heart sink. My body went cold. Kana's face went a shade whiter than it already was.

"Is – is that what they think –?" Kana's voice trembled.

"Is that what they think sunk the boats?" Toru finished Kana's sentence for her. "Yes, that's what Yamane-kun believes."

"Is that what appeared in the bay?" I dreaded the answer.

"It could very well be," Toru said solemnly. "I thought that the military had already taken care of it, but it looks like they didn't. It's not only its size that's worrisome, though. Apparently, Yamane-kun believes that it's radioactive as well."

I was a very small child when Hiroshima and Nagasaki were destroyed. My father, however, saw the damage the atomic bomb had inflicted. He was a soldier in the Japanese Imperial Army at the time, and he went through Hiroshima on his return to Tokyo. He and a man he knew named Ishiro Honda were both terribly affected by the sight of destroyed buildings and charred memories. From my father, I learned to fear the power of nuclear weapons and the results of radiation. A cold wave swept over my body at the thought that the creature in the bay could have been identical to those American bombs, Little Boy and Fat Man.

"What are they calling this creature? Do you know?" Kana asked.

""Hideto-kun told me that the natives of Odo Island have a legend of a giant god that they to which used to sacrifice young girls. They claim that it was their god who caused all the destruction. Yamane-kun decided to use the god's name."

Toru took in a deep breath before continuing.

"They're calling this creature Gojira."

The repetitive cracking of gunshots sounded off in the distance. Chiyo clutched Kana's kimono, hugging against her and Gammy. Kana held her tightly, and squeezed her eyes shut. Toru and I watched the small pinpoints of light flicker with very shot fired. There was the sound of splashing water coming from the bay. The monster's tail must have flitted about the in the sea again.

It was still there.

"Gojira," I whispered softly. The name struck a nerve and sent shivers down my spine. It sounded so resoundingly evil and sinister, so powerful and magnificent – it terrified me.

"What can they do against this thing?" Kana asked timidly, rising from her crouching position. Chiyo still clung to her and Gammy.

Toru folded his arms and shook his head.

"That's kind of hard to say," he said. "Considering that Gojira tends to reside underwater, I would think that they would use depth charges."

"But what if they don't work?" Chiyo spoke up finally. "What if the scary monster doesn't go away?"

Toru knelt in front of her, and gave her a heart-warming smile.

"They'll get him. The military people have a lot of explosives and firearms and they are all very smart. Gojira doesn't stand a chance. So, don't worry, okay?"

Chiyo's face lit up with one of her sweetest smiles. I had always had the notion that Chiyo really liked Toru, but she was a very quiet, reserved child, and the only indication she ever gave was that she would always blush whenever Toru would wink at her.

It sounds odd, but seeing Chiyo's face so happy and full of assurance did not assuage my increasing fears. Looking at Toru, I had a feeling that not even he had believed what he had just told my sister. But, it made Chiyo just a little happier, and at that moment that was all that really mattered to me.

The next day, police vehicles and even military vehicles rolled down the streets, announcing that the Maritime Self-Defense Forces would use depth bombs on the creature called Gojira. My friends and I, and even Mother and little Chiyo, sat on the roof of our home and silently observed as the military launched the charges, and as the water splashed and bubbled with each explosion.

By midday, the soldiers had run out of charges, and the military sea crafts headed back to shore. Minutes later, the radios, police cars, and military personnel declared that the campaign had been a success.

I could hear the explosion of cheers and the collective sighs of relief coming from the city from my spot on the rooftop. Chiyo smiled, Toru gave her a hug and told her that they got it and Mother muttered a thank-you to the gods that it was all over.

Kana and I did not celebrate, however. I think we both had the sensation that such an abrupt victory just did not seem to feel right.

My sick feeling continued throughout the day, despite the cheery atmosphere around me. While my neighbors and schoolmates caroused and almost danced in the streets with happiness, I moped around with a grim look on my face.

Toru, Kana, and I walked along the road of the neighborhood. Night was beginning to fall, and the air grew cooler with each step we took, bringing us closer to big hill at the end of the boulevard. Our parents' spirits were considerably lighter that day, though none more so than those of my mother. She had heard from Father earlier in the day, following the announcement of the military's success in the sea, and she had been happy ever since. She was in such a good mood that she had even allowed Chiyo to go out with us, Gammy in tow.

By the time we had reached the hill, night had already settled in and the stars sparkled on a clean sheet of black. We sat underneath the night sky, the old sakura tree behind us swaying gently in the light breeze that played with our hair. We watched as a party boat sailed lazily in the bay, the party on board in full swing. The boat was alive with the swirling colors of dancers and couples running about, happily drunk. They were all carefree and so full of life that night. They had not a worry in the world – the creature in the bay was gone, and it was time to celebrate. A part of me envied their ignorant bliss. I could not so readily celebrate.

"They look so happy, don't they?" Chiyo said, hugging Gammy to her, her eyes sparkling and dancing with happiness.

"Yeah," I sighed. My voice sounded dead and hollow compared to the uplifted voice of my sister.

Chiyo must have noticed, because she tore her eyes away from the dazzling boat and locked them onto my half-closed ones.

"Why is Onii-chan so sad?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

I gave her a wan smile.

"I'm not sad. I just have a lot on my mind right now, that's all," I told her.

"Oh," Chiyo said, nodding slowly. She was a very perceptive girl – she knew when it was safe to ask questions and she knew when it was best to remain silent.

Chiyo watched the boat intently for another minute or so, and then turned to Kana.

"Kana-onee-chan?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like to dance?"

Kana laughed. Her laughter rang out so pleasantly, like a softly ringing silver bell.

"Of course I love to dance, Chiyo-chan!" she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Would Kana-onee-chan like dancing on a boat like that?" Chiyo pointed to the boat in the distance.

Kana's eyes widened in surprise, and then her face relaxed into a serene, dreamy smile.

"Are you being serious, Chiyo-chan?"

Chiyo nodded energetically, a broad smile on her face.

"Yup, yup. I think Kana-onee-chan would look very pretty dancing on a boat like that!"

Kana laughed again. I found myself beginning to smile a little, and I could see that Toru was grinning. I was very grateful that my sister had joined us that evening. She was such a pleasant girl when she was comfortable with the people she was with, and she always seemed to lighten the mood around her.

Kana leaned forward a little, rested her head on cupped hands, and watched the boat drift about lazily in the bay.

"I would love to go out dancing on a boat like that, Chiyo-chan," she said dreamily. "But I couldn't go on my own."

Chiyo's face fell.

"Why not?" she asked

Kana's smile broadened, and she sat up a little straighter.

"Well, I would have to be invited, for one," she explained. "And also, I would need to be escorted. A boy would have to ask me to go with him."

Chiyo looked thoughtful for a moment. She looked at me, and then Gammy, and finally back at Kana, grinning.

"I know! If Onii-chan asked you to go, would you?"

I felt my face begin to burn. I cast a cursory glance over to Kana, who stared at me intently. I could hardly bring myself to look at her in the eyes. I was almost afraid of what she might have said.

"I think that if Hisashi-chan asked me, I would say yes," Kana said slowly. "But I wouldn't go if you had not been invited, too, Chiyo-chan."

"Really?" Chiyo's eyes were wide.

Kana nodded.

"But I don't know any boy who would take me on a boat to go dancing," Chiyo said, her face falling.

"I would take you," Toru volunteered, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

Chiyo looked at him in surprise. I could see in the moonlight that her cheeks were flushed scarlet with embarrassment. That was the same reaction she had whenever Toru would wink at her.

"I think I would like that very much," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Love is a strange emotion, I admit. To be honest, I never understood my feelings toward Kana, nor could I comprehend the attraction between Toru and Chiyo. I suppose I was somewhat ignorant to all of this – unlike the youth of today who know what love is, and consequently find what they consider love on multiple occasions.

When I think back to that night, when we sat at the hill, looking at that boat drifting in the bay, I come close to tears. That night means so much to me in my old age. That night, we were young, we were in love, and we forgot all our worries when Chiyo told Toru that she would have liked it if he had taken her out to dance on a boat.

Thinking on that night, I always wonder if the boat was perhaps a metaphor of our futile attempts at trying to escape the cold reality that life can never be so full of magic and bliss.

The boat continued to glitter and sparkle, an infusion of colors against the dark water of the bay. The four of us sat watching it in silence, transfixed by its beauty. What we each were thinking at that moment, I could not tell you. I can tell you, however, that my thoughts almost entirely consisted of Kana and the moonlit sea.

A light breeze brought with it the scent of the ocean – salty and fresh. I was so comfortable up there on that hill with my friends and sister. It was so peaceful, so serene – I did not want the moment to end. No complications, no interruptions – just nostalgic bliss.

The serenity of the night was shattered, and my peaceful state of mind was shaken by the sound of loudly splashing water. The music coming from the boat ceased, and was rapidly replaced by the harsh sound of screams. I jumped to my feet in shock – my blood ran cold, and my peace converted into sharp fear as I saw that head of the beast sink back beneath the waves. Its tail splashed about wildly before it finally submerged.

Gojira.

The sound of Chiyo and Kana screaming barely registered in my mind, nor did the vibrations of the Earth as it shook beneath me. The party boat rocked with the panicking people running on board and the violent waves the creature had created. The engine revved, but the boat did not budge.

"Where did it go?" Toru demanded, his eyes scanning the dark waters frantically.

The answer came with resounding power: a split second after the screams died from the boat died down, the sea bubbled and boiled, and a bright blue lighted glowed beneath the boat.

A moment later, the boat burst into flames.

A new wave a screams emitted from Kana and Chiyo, and I could hear them sobbing as well. My mouth was dry and my body was numb. The bright lights, the twirling colors, the beautiful picture – it was all gone in screams of agony and flames rising high into the starry night sky.

There was a great deal of commotion going on in the neighborhood behind us. Men and women shouted out in confusion. I could hear someone demanding to know what was going on. Toru shouted back, "Gojira! It's Gojira! Gojira's in the bay!"

There is a tale of a great beast that was slain by a young girl in order to save a village that would sacrifice young virgin girls in order to placate the monster. It is said that upon the slaying of the beast, the Emperor was released from an ailing curse, and allowed for the girl's banished samurai father to return to Japan. The girl was named Tokoyo, according to legend, and that was how Edo had been re-named Tokyo.

My granddaughter told me that story. Ever since she told it to me, I have had the strangest notion that perhaps the beast had never truly died. For quite some time now, I have wondered if perhaps it had gone to Tokyo to seek revenge…

Tokyo erupted to life. From the city, screams and shouts of astonishment and terror bounced against the many buildings the sounds echoing out into the bay, reaching the ears of the monster. Slowly, it rose from the sea, and began treading toward the city, water dripping from its enormous frame. The rattling of gunfire erupted from the shoreline, letting off small flashes of light and puff of smoke.

It was shock enough to see that the depth bombs had not succeeded – it was even more of a shock to hear the shots from military artillery. From my spot on the hill, I could make out the shapes of 155mm Howitzer M1 cannons and even a few M24 Chaffee tanks.

I felt my heart stop. The military had known that the monster was still living. They knew the depth bombs had no effect – they had covered it all up. They – the military and even the government – allowed us to slip into a state of easiness; allowed us to relax and feel free from anxiety.

All I could think to ask was why. Why had they not sent out an alert? Why had they allowed the party boat out into the bay? Why the charade?

An enormous crowd had gathered on the hill. Toru grabbed me, and dragged me toward the front, where he had already hauled Chiyo and Kana. The two girls clung to each other, shaking with fright. I looked wildly about, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mother. The crowd swelled, and the commotion was so great that I could not tell if my mother was even there. From inside the city, the air raid siren blared.

I looked toward the shore, and my sinking feelings only deepened. The military could not hold the creature back. It lumbered slowly onto the land, and looked around, as though it were a curious child. The lights from the buildings illuminated very little of the monster's features. From what I could see, however, I could only guess it to be about fifty meters tall. It had dark charcoal gray hide, and a long, powerful tail that swung about similar to that of a cat. I saw that the Chaffee tanks had begun a slow retreat, simultaneously firing at the great beast. The soldiers must have seen what we saw on the hill: artillery had no effect on Gojira.

The hill became a focal point of activity, as more and more people joined us. Several police officers and military personnel had arrived and attempted to keep us from getting too near the bay. We watched in horrified fascination as the monster stepped over and on the tanks and cannons. Beneath the amazing behemoth, hordes of panicked citizens fled in terror, their screams resounding into the night. It was horrible, watching them as they trampled each other in an attempt to get away from the terror of the bay, pushing and shoving. Men, women, children, and the elderly – they were all out there, all trying to escape.

There was no possible way for us to have been prepared for what happened. We had all been seduced into believing that we had achieved an immediate victory, and that we could all fall back into our own innocent ignorance.

Above the turmoil and confusion, I could hear a military officer tell someone that no one else could be on the hill. I heard an elderly voice demand access, that he was Dr. Yamane. I strained to see, and I saw the famous doctor himself, a young man next to him, followed by Hideto Ogata, Toru's cousin.

I indicated him to Toru, who in turn tried to yell to his cousin. Hideto-kun did not hear him, however, and Toru quickly gave up. A new wave of shouts erupted around us, and we watched in stunned silence as the monster crushed the buildings around the bay. It crushed homes and power lines underfoot, and what it did not succeed in crushing, it succeeded in dealing powerful blows with its enormous tail.

Shouts and screams echoed into the night, as we watched a passenger train speed directly into the monster's path. The conductor had probably never even heard the siren – all we knew was that the train suddenly screeched and the brakes hitting against the wheel created sparks. The train slammed into the monster's gigantic foot. Gojira looked down at the destroyed cars. People were streaming from the broken windows, tossing luggage and handing children to the women who followed. Gojira bent down, and picked up the car nearest to the center of the mess. As the cars were raised high into the air, terrified passengers clung to whatever they could, or they jumped out of the broken windows, plummeting into the wreckage below.

Gojira stood for all to see, a train car dangling from its mouth. The terrified screams of those who fled flooded ours ears. Gojira swung the train car its mouth round, and flung it into a crowd of screaming civilians.

It looked pleased with itself for a moment, like a person admiring a project. After it stared at the destruction it had wrought up Tokyo Bay, it slowly turned around and headed toward the bay, demolishing even more buildings in its wake.

It spotted one of the bridges nearby, and began to head toward it. Gojira looked at it for a moment, in the same manner it had when it looked at the wreckage surrounding the train. After a moment, it heaved at the bridge, and, as we all cried out in horror, the bridge's suspension lines snapped, and the bridge itself toppled over into the water.

The cries that followed Gojira as it returned to the lapping waters of the bay held nothing in comparison to those that Chiyo and I unleashed: before the monster had submerged its lower body into the sea, its powerful tail lashed out, and struck the building that housed the Nankai Steamship Company.

I felt as though I was in some sort of horrific nightmare. I wanted so badly to wake up at that moment. I could feel the hot tears that streamed down my face, and my throat ached from my screams of anguish. Chiyo wailed behind me, and I could barely hear Kana's voice over her pain-wracked cries. Father and his employees had not left the office for nearly a week, and if they had, they would have been at home with their loved ones.

It was in that one horrible minute of my life, I knew: With that one sweep of the almighty creature's tail, my father was gone.

As I fell to my knees, I buried my head in my hands, begging the gods to intercede. I wanted to die at that moment, knowing that my father lay dead beneath a pile of rubble. All I could see in my distraught mind was the picture of my father sleeping peacefully several mornings ago, and I remembered that I had not said good-bye to him that day. I always told my father good-bye before he left for work – I enjoyed seeing him before I headed to school and before he left for the Company. I blamed myself for his death – had I been there to see him off as I always had, perhaps he would have been with me on the hill, cursing the monster for destroying his building.

The roar of jets overhead jolted me from my guilt-ridden state of mind, and I snapped my head up in time to see a fleet of F86F Saber Jets soaring toward the monster, unleashing tirades of missiles and the gods knew what other ammunition. Cheers and shouts in support of our soldiers erupted around me.

The cheers to turned into curses and cries of anguish, as one by one, the monster called Gojira lashed out in evident annoyance.

Our small, frantic group watched helplessly as the creature batted at the F86F Saber Jets, sending many to fiery deaths. Curses were uttered, and the cries to the gods were numerous. Toru looked on with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Amidst the noise of the desperate people and the roar of the fated jets, Chiyo tugged at the end of Toru's loose-fitting shirt, and gazed at him with terrified innocent eyes.

"Toru-kun, I thought you said they got it?"