Summer 1945
THE SEARING RAYS OF THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN beat down on Koichi’s shoulders through the acrylic glass. In the cockpit of his A6M5 Zero fighter, the only sound was the rhythmic hum of the Model 52’s trusty Sakae 21 engine.
By rights, the whole aircraft should have been blown to smithereens by now—either by finding its target and slicing into an enemy warship or by succumbing to antiair fire on the way to its mark. He thought of all the comrades alongside whom he’d been sortied to the Pacific Theater; chances were every last one of them had dutifully carried out their missions. It was only Koichi who’d turned back and was now headed straight for the emergency-landing zone on remote Odo Island.
Koichi didn’t know if there’d be any talking his way out of this one. But he figured he could at least buy himself an extra day or two of plausible deniability if he complained about engine trouble or something like that. That should be more than enough time to think about what his next move should be.
The war would be over any day now—that much was plain to see. And if Koichi could just survive until then, he could keep his promise to his mother. Thankfully, there should only be maintenance engineers stationed on Odo Island. He hoped they would be at least a bit more amicable and sympathetic to his plight than the average military officer.
The island appeared on the horizon, its hazy silhouette slowly growing larger and taking on a more distinct curvature as the base gradually came into view. It was only when Koichi was close enough to begin his descent that he could see that the runway had clearly been bombed and was now littered with massive potholes that made it highly unsafe for even an experienced pilot to attempt to land.
Koichi did a single go-around, circling the island to determine his best course of action. As long as he landed first on the left-hand side of the runway then swerved quickly to the right, he might just be able to avoid the potholes entirely. Steeling his nerves, he gripped the throttle and took a deep breath, then slowly began his descent.
The rest was all a blur—but somehow, through deft utilization of his wing flaps and rudder, he found himself braking safely to a halt just centimeters from the rim of a gaping hole in the ground. Had his wheels touched down even half a second later, the entire plane likely would have tumbled over the edge and burst into flames from the impact and ample remaining fuel in his craft. And no sooner had he breathed a sigh of relief than did he feel a cold sweat of adrenaline run down his spine.
Despite everything, he was back on solid ground. Alive.
Later that evening, as Koichi sat resting alone by the base’s command post, he looked up to see a man walking toward him. He appeared to be the superior officer on duty here—and behind him, the contemptuous gazes of the maintenance personnel who’d been inspecting his aircraft all trained firmly on him.
It seemed his deception had already been found out. And yet, there was no way he could possibly take off again from that dilapidated runway, which meant both he and his aircraft were grounded. The staff could spurn him all they liked, but they had no authority to try him for desertion—so as long as he continued to feign ignorance, they’d have no choice but to let him stay here on the island with them until the war was over.
“Ensign Shikishima, was it?” said the man. “The name’s Tachibana—I was on the maintenance team back at the Tsukuba Naval Air Group’s HQ, if you remember.”
Koichi did remember someone on the maintenance crew there by that name: a talented engineer who was held in high regard by his team, as Koichi recalled. Unfortunately, these were far from the ideal circumstances for a reunion with an old colleague, but Koichi did his best to force a bit of cheer so as not to give away his guilt.
“Oh, Tachibana-san!” he said. “Of course—how could I forget? You were a huge help to all of us back then.”
“Surprised you were able to land that old beater on our sad excuse for a runway here,” said Tachibana. “But I guess I shouldn’t be. You always were an ace pilot, after all.”
“In mock battles maybe… Never got to see any real action before they assigned me to a kamikaze unit…”
“But it seems this bout of engine trouble bought you a brief postponement,” said Tachibana, drawing closer. “Though I have to say, it’s very strange; we’ve looked over your craft a dozen times, and none of us can seem to reproduce the issue you described.”
“And…? What are you trying to say?” said Koichi, trying his best to sound deeply offended before turning on his heel and walking off toward the beach with a performative huff to hide his face, which was turning white as a sheet. Not exactly a warm reception here, he reflected as he sat on the rocks by the shore.
Eventually, another maintenance worker walked over and called out to him.
“What is it now?” Koichi asked.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the man, whose name tag read SAITO. “But Tachibana-san asked me to call you over.”
“Did he say what for?”
Saito didn’t answer immediately but instead took a seat next to Koichi on the rocks.
“To be honest,” he said, gazing out at the waves, “I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, what difference would it make to throw your life away at this point, when we all already know how this war’s going to end? You could hold your head high and say you followed your orders to the letter, sure… But what good is honor in death? I don’t know.”
With that, Saito stood up and walked back the way he came.
These were the first kind words—the first thing resembling acceptance—Koichi had received since arriving on the island, and it left him on the verge of tears. But as he lowered his head and tried his best to choke them back, Koichi noticed something strange washing up along the shore. It looked like the carcass of some strange deep-sea fish he’d never seen before but which had died in such a way that had left its stomach bulging out from its mouth, as though its insides had been sucked out through its jaws. And it wasn’t just one, either—there were scores of these same fish floating up against the rocks, all of them having met the same fate. Some even had their eyeballs blown out of their sockets, now hanging on by only a thread. Koichi found the sight mildly disturbing but thought nothing more of it than that.
When at sundown Koichi returned from the beach, Tachibana was waiting. He gestured with his chin for Koichi to follow him into the command post. Koichi feared the worst. Was he now going to be subjected to a trial by kangaroo court? He could feel his breathing start to quicken; he knew abandoning his mission as a suicide bomber was a felony offense. But with little other choice, he followed Tachibana into the command post.
What awaited him inside the building was a far cry from what he expected, however, as he was greeted with eager smiles by a group of maintenance workers all huddled around a large pot of what looked like fish stew—all of them beckoning him to join them at the table for dinner. Frazzled and confused, he tentatively took a seat, and the room quickly erupted with conversation as the men each addressed him in turn.
“Y’know, I was wondering when someone like you might show up,” said one.
“Man, kamikaze desertion, though? That takes some stones,” said another.
“I mean, the war’s as good as over,” said a third. “Only an idiot would obey a suicide order at this point.”
“Yeah, you can just keep your head low here with us for a while, then take a free cruise back to the mainland with us once things die down a little bit.”
This pushed Koichi over the edge. It seemed the maintenance workers accepted him after all, coward though he was—and that moved him so deeply that he could only lower his face and weep.
“Aw, come on, don’t start bawlin’ on us,” said one of the men. “Here, eat some food, why don’tcha—it’s an Odo Island specialty: deep-sea fish stew!”
“Yep, just gathered these down by the shore this afternoon,” said another. “They don’t look pretty, but trust me, they’re fresh and tasty.”
“Probably better than whatever pathetic rations they’re doling out back on the mainland right now,” said yet another. “And you can actually eat your fill.”
The men were right; the stew was unbelievably good. Koichi hadn’t eaten a thing since he’d been sortied, so he ravenously devoured this peace offering.
“Boy, there sure were a lot of ’em down there today, though,” said the second man. “Made for a pretty big catch.”
“You think we might see Godzilla tonight?” said the first, jokingly.
“Godzilla?” said Koichi. “What’s that?”
“Don’t listen to him,” said the other man. “Just some old superstition the islanders here believe—it’s this ‘godlike creature from the deep’ in their local folklore, apparently. And they say on days when a ton of dead fish wash ashore, it means ‘Godzilla’ is coming.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one too,” said another man. “Something about how when Godzilla ‘rises from its slumber,’ all the deep-sea fish that live down there get scared shitless and race up to the surface fast enough to blow out their own stomachs.”
All of a sudden, the base’s air-raid siren rang out, snapping the men out of their conversation as they jumped up in their seats with a start. But they quickly regained their military composure and, not a moment later, all rushed out of the command post with their infantry rifles in hand.
“What is it?” shouted Tachibana. “Enemy planes?”
“No, sir!” called the lookout, a man named Taki, from the watchtower. “But there’s a massive shadow approaching from the sea!”
Just then, a shrill, spine-chilling roar could be heard coming from the shoreline.
“Some new American weapon?” Tachibana muttered sharply as he hurried over to the watchtower. “Taki! Shine your searchlight onto the water!”
Taki did as he was instructed—and in the harsh glare of the searchlight, a strange, monstrous form could be seen rising from the surface.
Koichi could see the glint of beast-like claws on each of its hulking limbs. Its gargantuan jaw was lined from end-to-end with razor-sharp teeth. And along its spine ran a series of prominent, barb-like dorsal fins that made it look more like a spiked-back dinosaur from prehistory than a creature of the sea. It had to be at least fifteen meters tall.