GODZILLA AND THE GOLDEN DRAGON
Off the shores of Hawaii, the early afternoon sun warmed the immense expanse of the Pacific, topped by a cloudless sky. The ocean was calm and the waves gently moved a small sailing boat stationary in the middle of that blue vastness. It was a clunky rowboat with a small mast at its center and a hold with a trapdoor to store crates and supplies. On board was a man in his thirties with olive skin, blue, pensive eyes and black, unkempt hair and beard. He was tall and heavy-set, to the point of being a bit unwieldy on his boat. He had thick arms with toned muscles and broad shoulders, but at the same time a small but visible roll of fat showed on his midriff: he'd stopped working out many years ago. His haircut was even more scruffy: his hair was frizzy and went down over his shoulders, he kept it tied in a simple ponytail; on the other hand, he'd cut his beard just a little once every two or three months, just not to let it grow too much, but it still had a wild look. A large shell hung from his neck.
The sailor, at that moment, was pulling up the last of the nets he'd thrown the night before. To protect himself from the sun, he'd wrapped his linen robe around his head like a turban and tried to ignore the scorching sun rays on his hairy chest and on his scarred back, which was entirely furrowed by a branched mark, one of those left by lightning. He could tell from the weight of his net, that day he'd caught little or nothing. When he saw his catch, he snorted in disappointment: only two small tuna. It would make no sense to sell them, he might as well eat one that night and store the other. The man removed the fish from the net, beheaded them and put them in a box he kept in the hold. In the last few days, he'd been unlucky: in the other nets he'd found nothing. It wasn't his first cold streak since he lived in Hawaii, but that was definitely the worst one. He couldn't explain it: theoretically, that was one of the most fishy times of the year. He unfurled the sail, sat down and grabbed the oars. However, as soon as he looked up to start sailing, he saw something: a small silhouette on the horizon. It was a black dot getting closer and closer: a ship. Suspecting who that might be, the sailor immediately fetched his spyglass from below the trapdoor, went to the bow and observed the incoming boat. It was a rather shabby, decrepit wooden sloop covered in barnacles. When he looked at the mast, the man saw confirmation of what he thought: a black flag with a skull and two crossed swords. Pirates.
"Great, those buggers are never missing"
Trying to escape was useless: the sloop had the wind in its favor, it would reach him in a few minutes. So he resigned himself to waiting for them and to taking care of them, one way or another. So he lowered the sail and sat at the stern with his arms crossed, waiting for his visitors. Within a few minutes, the sloop approached the boat and dropped anchor. The man stood up and looked at the parapet of the vessel. He saw four filthy, scarred men dressed in rags, with convicts' faces. He stared at them without batting an eyelid, immediately recognizing the captain from his hat. The pirate, giving him a smile with just six teeth, put his hands on his hips and chuckled:
«Big fishin' today, eh, mate?»
The sailor didn't answer, merely frowning. The pirate to the captain's left, an Indian with his head burned and ears cut off, glanced at the sailboat with a disappointed gaze and complained:
«Cap'n, why'd ye make us change course? For that chump? He must've got but a handful of fish on that wood shell!»
The captain gave him a withering look and huffed:
«Ye idiot! Look at 'im: that's a Brit, 'tis as clear as the sun! And ye know, lads: the Brits are rich»
The buccaneer to his right, a short, muscular guy with red hair, tilted his head, puzzled:
«Cap'n, what d'ye see of a Brit in that tub gurnard? Looks like a bloke from these isles to me, with that skin»
The captain rolled his eyes, frustrated:
«Like ye ain't a man 'bout town! Have ye lads ever been to London in these times? Do they all look white to ye? No! There are all the colors, ye get even green people, with all the whiskey they chug! But a Brit's gaze's unmistakable: look at 'im! D'ye see that masked pride? That arrogance? The Brits believe they're masters of the world and their eyes prove it!»
The fourth pirate looked even more confused:
«Are ye sure? Methinks he's looking at us like we're jesters»
The captain looked again and was stunned, noticing the sailor had begun staring at them with an expression between embarrassment and amusement. He clenched his fists and growled:
«Well, only one way to find out! Where are ye from, mate? If ye lie, I'll put yer head in the cannon and fire it into the bloody sky!»
The man replied in an annoyed tone:
«My father's English»
The captain clapped his hands satisfied:
«Ho! What did I tell ye, lads? And your mother, mate? Nah, don't tell me, I don't care. Have 'ye got anythin' shiny for us?»
«No» the sailor simply replied.
The captain grinned:
«Good! Ye'll be our booty! Get 'im!»
The other three pirates let out an enthusiastic battle cry and unleashed their knives, ready to jump on the boat and kidnap him, but what happened left them speechless: the sailor dived and reached the ladder of the sloop, getting on board of his own free will. The four buccaneers looked confused and astonished. The man gave them a mocking smile and stretched out his joined wrists, as if asking them to tie him up. The crew exchanged bewildered glances, until the Indian asked:
«Are ye mad? We're gonna sell ye as a slave to some Chinese or Turkish black market king, ye know?»
The fisherman shrugged and replied, calm and composed:
«I know»
«Well, what're ye waitin' for? Get the chains!» ordered the captain, still confused.
The redhead took a circumspect look at the hostage, while the Indian ran below deck, and asked him:
«Ye're hidin' somethin' from us, ye mud skin. Who are ye? Ye mockin' us?»
The man didn't answer. He lowered his hands and took his smile off his face, starting to look at the short pirate with irritation. A few seconds of silence passed, then the Indian returned to the bridge with the chains. The captain ordered him to tie up the sailor, but the redhead stopped him and, enraged, he took back the knife he'd sheathed and stood right before the man, livid:
«I won't be ignored! Yer mother never told ye it's bloody rude not to answer, huh? Now tell me who ye are, or I'll feed yer guts to the sharks! What's yer name, huh?»
The sailor hesitated, before answering the question.
«My name's Alford» he replied.
The captain tilted his head, intrigued:
«Alford, huh? Now that's an unusual name. Where have I heard it before?» he wondered, smoothing his filthy mustache.
«I've never heard it – protested the fourth pirate – Are ye sure it ain't Ford or somethin' like that?»
«No, Alford» the prisoner corrected him.
The captain kept pondering:
«Yet I swear there was a time when folks were always talking 'bout some Alford»
The fisherman closed his eyes, shook his head and sighed, angrily. Suddenly, he took the shell on his necklace, brought it to his lips and blew into it; the melody echoed through the ocean, dispersing in the wind.
«Why d'ye do that?» asked the Indian, perplexed.
«I saw fellers from Hawaii like playin' shells whenever they can. D'ye wanna play for the last time, mate? Good, 'cause ye might say goodbye to yer hands along the way. Ye know how it is, the journey's long 'n' the crew gets bored, but we gotta keep trained» sneered the captain.
«Do you want to live?» asked Alford, serious.
«Huh? What?» asked the redhead.
«Get away from the center of the ship» the prisoner recommended, before calmly retreating to the stern.
The Indian seemed to get impatient:
«This chump's mad. Scupper that, let's blow 'im down!»
He drew his knife but, at one point, the pirates realized there was a noise in the distance: the sound of agitated water getting louder with each passing second. Alford didn't turn around, he didn't need to: he already knew what it was and what was about to happen. All he had to do was enjoy the show. The pirates ran to the parapet on the left side of the ship and looked at the sea. Then even Alford could no longer resist and turned to keep an eye on the scene: three rows of dark plates with jagged edges had emerged from the ocean, cutting through the sea like rocks during a storm. As they approached, those ridges emerged more and more from the water, until they turned out to be slightly higher than the sloop. The pirates paled and began to scream in panic.
«Abandon ship!» exclaimed the captain, terrified.
At that point, they split up and began running like madmen towards the opposite ends of the vessel. Alford took the opportunity to go aft and dive into the ocean with them: soon there would be no more ships to stand on. When he jumped into the water, he swam holding his breath for a short distance before emerging, rubbing water off his face and turning around to see what was going on. At that moment, the ridges struck the sloop. They ripped the hull in two, passed through it and pushed away the two halves of the ship. The four pirates didn't dive in time: the crash literally made them fly, before they fell deadweight into the water. As the two destroyed parts of the sloop took in water and began to sink, those majestic rows of plates calmly submerged, fading as they'd appeared. Alford couldn't help but laugh softly: that was fun. His only slight regret was the fact that the first people not to have recognized him in years were pirates.
He turned around, looking for his sailboat, and found it not far from there. He swam towards it with agile strokes, thanks to all the years he'd spent at sea since he was a kid, and returned on board. He took his soaked turban off his head and, standing on the bow, he defiantly watched the sea dogs scramble to cling to wooden planks that had come off their ship. Once all four had found something floating, the captain spotted Alford and gnashed his teeth, raising a fist:
«Curse ye! Ye won't get away with this, wretch! May that bloody monster devour ye too and tear ye apart!»
«If I were you, I'd be careful not to give him ideas» Alford provoked him.
The pirates appeared to be confused again. At least until the Indian, after reflecting for a few seconds, gasped and exclaimed:
«Blimey! Cap'n! What d'we do! We were gonna take 'im hostage!»
«Aye, so what?» asked the redhead, irritated.
«The shell… he called the beast! It's his! And that name...»
After a moment of silence, the other sea dogs barred their eyes and their terror doubled:
«The Titan Slayer!» they screamed, in shock.
And there it was: fear. The same reaction from anyone to the four corners of the world, when they met Alford and found out who he was. Those frightened eyes, the awe and fear too great to speak to him or look at him that had followed him for years. No matter whether people knew his appearance and name or not: as soon as his identity was revealed, whatever Alford had said or done before that moment stopped counting: no matter what, he was a monster to anyone.
"As usual: there's no running away" Alford thought, demoralized.
At one point, however, the captain narrowed his eyes:
«Beware, Titan Slayer: I don't care what folks say 'bout ye, whoever wrecks me sloop's a dead man! Dead! D'ye hear me? I'll follow ye to the end of the world to...»
Suddenly, however, the sea behind the pirates began to boil and, when he saw it from his boat, Alford managed to drive away the melancholy: his favorite part had started. Alarmed by the boiling sound, the pirates turned around and found themselves face to face with the huge snout of a colossal beast, submerged up to its nostrils like a crocodile. The pirates screamed in terror and the giant monster spread its nostrils, investing them with a puff of wet wind that blew away the captain's hat. The creature stared at the buccaneers squinting its menacing orange eyes and showed its sharp teeth. It gradually emerged to its shoulders and darkened the buccaneers with its shade. Now, a giant sea reptile with three elegant bony crests on its back stood out before the pirates, submerged up to its shoulders, staring at them from seven meters high.
Alford smiled and folded his arms, watching the four sea dogs scream in panic, unable to look away from the creature because of their terror. The giant reptile opened its mouth with a grim gurgling moan and threw out blue smoke, as if provoked by their cries. At that point, panic took over and the pirates lost it: they abandoned the wooden planks and began swimming in all directions to flee, as if they could go anywhere. After watching them intrigued for a while, the monster turned a questioning look at Alford, waiting to find out what he wanted it to do. He raised both arms: if he'd spread them holding them high, it would've meant the creature had to spare the pirates; if he'd done so by lowering them, the buccaneers would've been wiped out. That was a simple code the two had learnt to use over the years, to communicate at a distance. Alford spread his arms apart holding them above his head:
«They got the message, Godzilla» he said.
His titan replied with a low guttural sound that made his eardrums and diaphragm vibrate, then it swam past the piece of wood the pirates were clinging to with what little delicacy it could have and approached Alford's boat, getting its snout close to the rowboat. Then the Titan Slayer took a rope fixed to the bow that ended with a huge lasso, he took aim and threw it, centering Godzilla's neck. At that point he tightened the lasso, secured it and clung to the mast, before whistling. The gojirasaurus, then, began to swim keeping its head and ridge on the surface, gently towing the boat. As they sailed towards Oahu island, Alford remembered to give well-deserved praise to his faithful adventure companion:
«You've been good, buddy, you're learning: keep a low profile with bandits and pirates. Leave the beam to the titans, when needed. I hoped you understood that!»
Godzilla slightly lifted his snout from the water and emitted a low gurgling of contentment, recognizing the praise from the human's tone. With a smug smile, Alford sat down at the stern and enjoyed the pleasant breeze on his face and chest with his eyes closed, waiting to get to the coast.
§§§
Godzilla swam to the northeastern coast of Oahu and landed on the islet of Kukuiho'Olua, a few hundred meters away from the mainland, where Alford lived as a hermit. Sometimes he just couldn't tell if he was happy with that loneliness or if he was sad about it. When his titan touched the bottom with his feet, Alford loosened the lasso and rowed to the shore. Once he went ashore, the beach was suddenly overshadowed and he no longer felt the heat of the sun. He turned around and smiled: Godzilla had risen completely, towering on the tiny island with his height of thirty-one meters.
As always, Alford couldn't help but take a moment to admire his adventure companion inherited from his father, from his grandfather before him and from his great-grandfather in the first place: his impressive armor of large and thick scales, so hard and rough as to appear to be carved into bare rock, to the eye as to the touch. His adamantine armor, marked here and there by the wounds of the most fearsome battles from the past; his hips, abdominal plates and snout were marked by old scars very similar to those of his master. He had an elegant, wide but flexible tail, which whipped water and opponents alike: it was an effective weapon that never failed. Like columns, his squat and imposing hind legs supported a massive body only apparently clumsy and cumbersome, but which belonged to a proud fighter, a warrior born to stand up to any threat he had to face. His short arms of surprising strength and armed with sharp claws were often left resting. And, finally, there was the greatest wonder of the gojirasaurs: the three-row ridge on the back. Majestic grooved plates with irregular edges, similar to the branches of a bare tree, in which flowed the devastating energy of the atoms, the most powerful and feared weapon of Godzilla's species. Alford's father had assured him that no amount of pride could do justice to having a creature like him by his side, when the huge responsibility of the family titan had passed to him, and every day the Titan Slayer found that it couldn't be truer.
Godzilla shook the water off with a couple of lazy jolts and, with a snort, he walked placidly towards the bay where he always went to rest, making the earth tremble with his steps. Alford, then, recovered from that moment of contemplation and returned to his chores: it was lunch time. He took the tuna crate from the hold and returned to land, then headed for his modest and lonely circular wood-and-straw bungalow in the middle of a patch of palm trees. The hot sand burned his bare feet as he walked. Once he was home, he left the crate next to the threshold and went to open the cupboard where he kept salt, spices and seasonings, next to the camp kitchen. As soon as he opened the cupboard door, however, Alford was dumbfounded: he'd run out of salt and had only half a sack of black pepper and cumin left. He couldn't preserve the second tuna. That left him no choice.
"No, damn it! Not already!" he thought, discouraged.
He was forced to go to Honolulu to stock up. That meant dealing with people's fear of him. Or rather, the fear they had of Godzilla and, therefore, of him, because of all the rumors about his past.
§
Alford returned at a brisk pace to his boat, untied it and began to follow the coast with the help of the wind. When he passed next to Godzilla's personal bay, he saw that his titan was already sleeping: he could hear his deep breaths. Several birds had already shown up, coming to rest in line on the plates of the giant reptile while it was lying down. Shortly thereafter, some reptiles would climb on him to sunbathe like they did on rocks. Alford circumnavigated the island, enjoying the ocean breeze, before arriving at the port of Honolulu. Dockings had increased unbelievably in the last few years, since travel across the globe had become so frequent. The great nations of the West and the East were investing more and more in trade between continents, and Hawaii had gone from being a simple stop for those who crossed the Pacific to one of many islands serving as meeting points between merchants and businessmen from all over the world.
Alford had always been fascinated by the fact that islands were seen as free ports since he could remember: from Cape Verde to the Caribbean, from Polynesia to Hawaii, in those tiny isolated points in the ocean people pretended the petty grievances and tensions between monarchies and various empires didn't exist. Starting in 1745, five years earlier, the phenomenon looked even more evident to him now. He'd heard that one of those so-called "illuminists", in their clubs in France, had written in a magazine that the world had taken off in a rush after walking at a lazy pace for centuries. Apparently, he wasn't wrong. Alford had no doubt that sudden global development was partly due to the fact that nations had begun to trust Titan Masters like him more and more and to ask them to give a hand in hastening their economic progress and intimidating rival kingdoms. The titans had also been very helpful in expeditions and explorations: thanks to them, the globe had been fully mapped in just a few years. Geographers stated that, without those interventions, this would've taken centuries more.
Alford put aside his thoughts on current events as he approached the dozens of vessels from all corners of the world docked in Honolulu: he had to find a free mooring among boats like his. He wandered among galleons and brigantines, beginning to hear the lively buzz coming from the village; eventually, he found a free place between two rowboats along one of the outermost docks. He moored, tied up his sailboat and crossed the pier, preparing to hold back the discomfort awaiting him: it was time to show himself in public; unfortunately, no matter how autonomous he tried to be, he couldn't escape the inevitable return to society he needed every now and then. He began heading to the market to get the salt. Along the way, he walked past a deforested stripe of land where farmers mulched the soil with fertilizers obtained from titan manure, ironically a resource nearly more valuable than precious metals.
Honolulu was now in all respects a cosmopolitan village like all island towns: alongside the traditional Hawaiian bungalows, there were several inns, shops and houses built by visitors from the rest of the world; it was also possible to divide the town into small blocks where people speaking the same language gathered. The cultural contrast had been almost shocking for the Hawaiian people until a few years ago, but over time it had become the new norm. People were gradually accepting the new reality where everyone was becoming a "citizen of the world". Some merchants and entrepreneurs had ridden that wave so successfully that their companies were known everywhere and had at least one headquarters on all continents. And, just at that moment, Alford noticed something that caught his attention: in the middle of a palm grove, some workers were building a new forge and they were hoisting the sign: I Ferri di Franchi.
"Franchi? In the end he got to my hideaway" Alford thought, sarcastic.
There was no explorer, soldier, mercenary or anyone else who worked wielding a weapon who didn't know the Italian merchant Luigi Franchi, owner of the largest company of blacksmiths in the globe. He was based in Venice and from there, over ten years, he'd made a fortune by expanding his business all over the world, with his fierce competitiveness and aggressive corporate policies. He was the best in the business and Alford knew him personally; but it was all in the past. The past that had now cost him his reputation.
At that point, he reached the market. He began following the road strewn with tents and stalls that gathered all cultures from the six continents. People argued about business, negotiated prices, carried their items and food along the way, Hawaiian children watched and listened curiously to merchants from distant lands, some salesmen with few customers chatted and told stories with their stall neighbors... all that frenzy and liveliness froze for a few seconds, as soon as Alford came along. Natives and foreigners alike began to cast suspicious and distrustful glances at him, when they saw him come through. They stopped their conversations or their business to watch the Titan Slayer, their expressions went from surprised to cautious and scared in the blink of an eye. After that, in a forced way, they went back to what they'd been doing, but now they were distracted by him. Alford felt each of those glances on himself, he sensed them as their eyes focused on him and never let him go, like a fly in a spider web. And the glances increased, built up, crushed him like boulders: they judged him. They judged and condemned him, he knew it. He felt it within himself; but finally, he found what he was looking for: a salt merchant from India. Alford drove all the distressing thoughts out of his head and focused on what he had to do. He approached the stall and greeted the man, trying to act as naturally as possible.
«Hello. I need to stock up on salt»
He bit his tongue without showing it: as usual, he'd been cold and mechanical. It happened to him all the time, which certainly didn't help him with people. The merchant stared at him, smiling, for a few moments, then he seemed to understand who he had before him and was panic-stricken, his eyes staring and his mouth half-open, for several seconds, so much so that Alford began to feel embarrassed and tried to unblock the situation:
«I need salt for at least one month. I have to preserve some fish»
At that point, the merchant snapped out of it and mumbled the price in rupees for a sack of salt, looking intimidated. Alford said he had no rupees, only British crowns. The merchant reacted like he'd been threatened with death and reassured him, in a cold sweat, that it was fine anyway, that he'd go to a money changer. Alford nodded, disheartened by the Indian's behavior, and rummaged through a bag he'd brought from his bungalow,handing him the equivalent in crowns of the price. At that point he received the sack of salt and began to leave, without thanking or saying goodbye: he'd done what he had to do, now his only concern was to be gone as fast as possible, as long as he could bear the glances. He knew that his attitude made him look like an asshole, but he hadn't cared about that for a long time. There was nothing he could do anyway...
He returned to the pier at a quick pace. The calm of the docks made him feel freed from a burden: there were only a few fishermen who were handling their catches or nets or conversing with each other, so he felt much more comfortable than in the middle of the village. Moving quickly, in order to be noticed as little as possible by the few present, Alford reached his sailboat and placed the bag of salt below the trapdoor. It was time to go back to Godzilla and finally enjoy lunch... but, as he prepared to loosen the knot, he heard footsteps on the wood behind him and the squawk of a parrot. Then a cheerful voice called him:
«Hey, you! The titan guy, right?»
Perplexed, Alford turned around and saw a young bare-chested Hawaiian man with a well-built physique, long black hair, a goatee, tattoos on his left arm and a witty smile printed on his face. Resting on his shoulder, there was a red-crowned amazon, a green parrot native to Hawaii. The young man's approach amazed Alford to the point of disorienting him: what was that playful, almost defiant tone? How was he supposed to interpret that carefree expression? Didn't he know who was in front of him? No, impossible: by now everyone in Hawaii knew him by face and name... then why didn't he avoid him and despise him like all the others? Taking a good look at him, however, Alford sensed that the face was a farce: he was just pretending to be so nonchalant. So, beneath the surface, he too was as intimidated as the others; but then why come to him? He didn't realize he'd been lost in his thoughts until the young man's grin died away little by little, giving way to a genuinely perplexed expression.
«Hey, are you there? Are you the guy who goes around slaughtering titans or not?» he asked.
Alford tried a little more to guess what intentions that bloke had, before he could come up with a wary answer:
«Yes. Actually, it's "Titan Slayer"»
The smile returned to the Hawaiian's face:
«Oh, so you can speak! Name's Kilani» he introduced himself.
Alford was silent for a second, before deciding to indulge in that attempt at conversation: he hadn't had an opportunity like that for years, it was worth enjoying it.
«And I'm Al...»
He was interrupted by Kilani's parrot that, out of the blue, croaked:
«Squaaaaaaawk! Pretty girl! Pretty girl!»
Kilani started, alarmed and blushing red. Alford was speechless, more confused than ever, wondering seriously if he'd understood what he'd just heard. He really believed that the bird was referring to him, before noticing that both the amazon and its owner were looking over his shoulder. He turned around, intrigued, and saw a young girl staring at Kilani with a gaze full of embarrassment. She had been sitting on the pier, gazing at the horizon, but she immediately stood up and walked away, pretending they weren't there. Alford couldn't repress an amused smile at the scene. He glanced at Kilani, who was covering his eyes with one hand. Then he looked at his parrot and scolded it jokingly:
«What are you doing? You're making me look bad! Especially in front of the titan guy! I see you learnt to do the trick, but not to choose the moment, huh?»
Alford, meanwhile, was staring at him without saying a word, undecided about what to say or if it was even appropriate to make a comment. That moment was already embarrassing on its own, he didn't feel like making it worse. He felt more uneasy with each passing second. When Kilani noticed it, he put on a dopey expression for a moment, and then he tried in a hurry to justify himself, immediately putting back the confidence mask he'd had at the beginning:
«Eh, you know how it is, "Al": you can never tell who takes it well, who takes it badly and who has a jealous father, so I leave the dirty work to him! If a parrot says it, no one gets offended: in fact, it works better because it makes them laugh!»
Alford kept silent, considering whether to ignore him, set sail and pretend nothing had happened, as the girl had done. Kilani hurried to defend himself:
«Come on, that was an unfortunate misfire! It works every other time, it's a guaranteed method»
Finally, Alford was able to decide and answer him:
«I don't doubt it. Do you need something?» he asked, getting immediately to the point.
He noticed Kilani had breathed a sigh of relief, although he tried not to show it: he'd saved himself from the embarrassing faux pas, so he recovered his composure. This time, however, he became more serious:
«To be honest, all of Hawaii needs help, especially us fishermen in Ohau. Only that all my pals are too afraid of you, so they asked me to go and ask you a favor. I understand them very well, after all no one resists my charisma...» he chuckled.
Deep down, Alford was quick to bet that the island's fishermen had sent him the dumbest guy, knowing that he would have no problem talking to him. But he saw no reason to complain about it: at that point, even that obvious playboy was fine with him, if it meant not being treated like the devil. Thinking about it, if he'd taken the hint, here was an opportunity as valuable as gold: if they asked him for important help and he made himself useful, perhaps he could do something to show the Hawaiians that, in reality, he'd never hurt anyone; on the other hand, it was also his fault that, since he'd changed his life, he'd never done even one "job" in those parts, but only in places too far away for the news to reach Hawaii. And so, driven by that hope of cleaning up his reputation on "his" islands, he got off the boat and returned to the pier, crossing his arms and looking at Kilani carefully:
«I'm listening» he said simply.
Then Kilani approached him, making Alford's discomfort grow out of all proportion, and whispered to him as if he were about to tell a secret:
«First of all, just to make sure: you're not the one stealing all the fish from us, are you? You know how it is, I think a beast like yours would eat a lot»
«Uh... what?» asked Alford, more confused than ever.
Kilani gave him an inquisitorial look so exaggerated as to be almost caricatural, before bursting out laughing:
«Hahaha! Relax, I was just putting you to the test! I can tell you have no idea what I'm talking about, so you're innocent»
«Godzilla eats only whales when he's not absorbing energy from underground» Alford casually explained.
Kilani opened his eyes wide:
«Ah, wow. I did say he needs to eat a lot. Whatever. The thing is: for a week now, no one's been ever able to bring home a decent catch. We're lucky if we can catch one or two fish in the nets!»
Alford was intrigued: apparently his scarce success in fishing in recent times hadn't been his bad luck, because all of Hawaii was going through an unexpected cold streak. The seas of the archipelago had always yielded abundant fish, especially at that time of the year, so the sudden disappearance of all the fish could only mean there was a die-off going on or something had made them all run away. And in nature there was only one thing that could provoke these imbalances in nature: a titan.
«A titan stopped by and started eating all the fish» he said, almost thinking out loud.
Kilani snapped his fingers and nodded:
«Yes! That's what we immediately thought too! So we gathered to decide what to do and we thought of you right away: we know you're famous because wherever your friend passes, titans cut and run. And so here I am. So, what do you say? In short, it's a problem for you as well: we all need to fish! It would be a win-win»
There was no questioning that. But it was also time to show everyone the new Titan Slayer's true nature. Then Alford nodded:
«That's true. I'll help you»
Kilani smiled in joy:
«Awesome! Let's move on to the sore point... what do we owe you?»
Usually, that question was the only really important part of a job for hire to Alford. The answer always changed: sometimes he only needed the hospitality of a community for a few weeks, sometimes he had to replenish his money. But, on that occasion, he had a new purpose: to make a good impression. And then, although a part of him saw it as philosophical nonsense, the gratitude of the islanders would be all he needed. Besides, he'd have to catch his own fish, after they'd come back. So he raised his hand and shook his head:
«Don't worry, I'll do this disinfestation for free»
Kilani seemed not to believe it:
«Wow, that's so selfless of you. Seriously, how much or what do you want?»
«No, no, I'm serious: I want nothing. In this case, only bringing the fish back matters, I won't need a payment to go and get them after this job»
He'd rather find a concrete excuse: that would be much more credible than the appreciation bullshit. Kilani was undecided for a few seconds, but in the end he was convinced and shrugged:
«If you're good with that, so are we. It's a deal!»
His parrot also seemed pleased, because it gave a couple of lively croaks and shook its feathers. The Titan Slayer and the Hawaiian were about to shake hands to sign their agreement, but were interrupted at the last second by shouts and exclamations from all over the docks. Perplexed, they looked around and realized that everyone on the piers and on the vessels were staring at the ocean, frightened and shocked. After exchanging an alarmed look, they turned towards the Pacific and gasped at the sight of what was happening offshore: a few hundred meters off the coast of Oahu, a brigantine was getting sucked underwater. The sea all around the vessel foamed and turned furiously in circles, trapping the ship in a large maelstrom that kept it from moving away and dragging it faster and faster into the depths. Within a few minutes, before the shocked and frightened eyes of the sailors and the inhabitants of Honolulu who'd rushed to watch the scene, the brigantine overturned on its side and was swallowed up completely by the ocean, which stopped swirling and boiling a few moments later. Suddenly, it was as if that ship had never been there. She'd been taken to the abyss, with all her crew and cargo, in the blink of an eye. From the crowd that had gathered in haste at the port, a great commotion arose, full of panic and dismay. Kilani gave Alford a worried and incredulous look:
«Damn! That's... it was...»
Assuming he was going to ask him whose fault it was, Alford replied:
«Yes, it must be the titan that scared off the fish. There's no doubt: it's established its territory, now it will also focus on defending it, not just on looking for food. No one will be safe offshore, as long as it stays»
«You have to do something! We can't allow this to happen again!» exclaimed Kilani, all serious, pointing to the ocean.
The Titan Slayer nodded:
«Absolutely. This problem goes far beyond fishing. I'll go to my friend and start the hunt right away: there's no time to waste» he said, determined.
«All right. Good luck, Al!» Kilani encouraged him, before quickly walking away.
Alford mumbled his thanks and glossed over that nickname Kilani had given him, jumping on his rowboat and untying the ropes. He left the port of Honolulu and began the route back to his small islet, staying as close as he could to the shore. Godzilla had to intervene immediately: that matter had turned out to be more serious than it seemed. He couldn't let other sailors be killed by the mysterious titan that had made the archipelago its hunting ground: it was time for the Titan Slayer to act and give proof of his title.
