The audience members stirred restlessly on their feet as if unable to decide how they felt about this whole proposition. They’d be no doubt subjecting themselves to potentially fatal danger by signing on to this operation. But it was also true that they were among the remaining few who possessed the skills and experience required to pull it off. And perhaps more conflicting than anything: If they agreed to this plan, it would mean they could be Navy men again, if only for one last mission.
“I can’t tell you how much it pains me to ask you all to risk your lives at sea again, having just survived such a terrible war,” said Captain Hotta. “But I’m afraid that is the situation we now find ourselves in. We cannot rely on help from the Japanese government or the U.S. military. The future of our great nation is in our hands, and our hands alone.”
Just then, one of the men from the audience stepped forward.
“I’m sorry… I can’t do it,” he said with a pained expression, as if it had been a struggle to wring the words from his throat. “I have a family to look after. And I’m not the only one either. The same could be said for most of us here.”
Seeing this as their chance, several other men spoke up to say their piece.
“Why does it have to be us putting our lives on the line?” said one.
“We already got the short end of the stick during the war,” said another.
“Everyone, please!” said Captain Hotta, an anguished look on his face. “Don’t misunderstand. This is not an order by any means. If for whatever reason you do not wish to take part, you are free to return to your homes. We have no authority to stop you.”
Only now that they’d been given express permission to leave did the men freeze in place, as an awkward, silent tension fell over the auditorium. Then at last, a single man stepped forward and, after giving a quick bow, hurried out of the venue with his head down in shame. Then another man followed after him, and another, until quite a few of the attendees had filed out of the building. For those who yet remained, the pressure was now unbearable—until all of a sudden, one man raised his hand to ask a very simple question:
“Just to clarify— there’s at least a small chance we might survive this, right?”
“Why, of course there is!” Noda answered hastily. “A good chance even!”
“Well, hey. That’s better odds than we had during the war at least.”
This got a fair chuckle from the men who still remained in the auditorium.
“Well, I guess someone’s gotta do it,” said one of the other men, scratching his head sheepishly. “Might as well be the folks who actually know how to run a ship, right?”
“Whaddya say, fellas?” said another man. “Are we doing this or what?”
All of the men in attendance let out a cheer, and the venue regained its previous air of camaraderie. It seemed everyone had found their resolve to stand and fight once more.
“My friends,” said Captain Hotta, lowering his head. “Thank you.”
The audience members nodded right back at him, one and all.
At a cheap, rundown little outdoor izakaya in a corner of the black market, the men of Shinsei Maru sat huddled around a small table, enjoying a round of drinks. For once, even the black market felt like a ghost town, due in large part to the recent Godzilla attack and related evacuations.
“Have to say, I’m pretty impressed, Doc,” said Akitsu, his face already bright red from intoxication. “Can’t believe you concocted that whole crazy plan all by yourself.”
“Well, it’s only because I’ve had a direct encounter with the beast. It seems that’s the main reason my proposal won out over the other submissions,” Noda explained.
“Ah. Guessing that’s why the three of us got invited too, then,” said Mizushima as he filled Noda’s sake cup. The younger man was obviously quite pleased to have been sitting in the esteemed company of so many ex-naval officers.
“So, what’s your theory, Doc?” said the captain. “You think it’s only a matter of time before that thing comes back for another go-around or what?”
“I think it’s safe to say that after its recent rampage, Godzilla probably sees Tokyo as part of its territory now,” said Noda. “Worst case, I wouldn’t even be surprised if it tried to come back ashore within a week or so.”
“Damn… That fast?”
“But you said you’ve got that big network of radiation detector buoys set up now, right?” said Mizushima.
“Well, yes,” said Noda. “We can’t rely on eyewitness reports alone, after all. We need to be able to monitor its movements somehow.”
“But even then, how can you be sure it’ll come ashore from just the right angle to stumble into the little trap you’ve got set up?” asked the captain.
“That’s going to be the tricky part, yes.”
“Wait. You mean you don’t even have a plan?”
“Who do you think I am? Of course I have a plan. You see, we have these great big underwater megaphones—which we used during the war to fool acoustic torpedoes—and we’re going to use them to play back a recording of Godzilla’s voice that was caught on tape during its last rampage.”
“Its own voice? The hell is that gonna do?”
“Ideally, it should fool the creature into thinking there’s another of its kind vying for its territory so that it comes running to defend it, thereby falling straight into our trap… Well, that’s what we hope anyway.”
“You hope? Are we just betting our country’s future on hopes and dreams, then? I mean, that ‘flotation device’ or whatever that your balloon buddies whipped up? I don’t think there’s a chance in hell that thing works as planned. It’s a load of bunk, I tell ya.”
“Well, what do you suggest we do, then?”
“Ooh, ooh! I know!” Mizushima cried excitedly, raising his hand. “We can use the destroyers to pull it back up from the bottom of the ocean!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Noda said, flatly rejecting the idea. “Godzilla weighs no less than twenty thousand tons. Two destroyers don’t have nearly enough horsepower to lift that, let alone anywhere near as fast as our current method will.”
“Well, all I’m trying to say, Doc,” said Akitsu, “is that your little plan’s got more holes than a block of Swiss cheese, I’m sorry to say.”
“Again, if you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”
“Noda-san,” said Koichi—the first word he’d uttered all night. “Do you think you could get your hands on a fighter plane?”
“A fighter plane?” Akitsu seemed thrown off by this. “What the hell for?”
“In the event that Godzilla doesn’t take the bait and makes landfall, I could always lure it back to Sagami Bay by angering it with machine gun fire.”
“Pretty sure there aren’t any Japanese fighter planes left, man,” said Mizushima, the team’s resident war buff. “Probably all got scrapped after we surrendered.”
“Even if you could find one, let’s not forget that the beast has a deadly heat ray,” said Noda, similarly skeptical of the idea. “Trying to lure it via aircraft would be akin to gambling your life away.”
“I’m willing to take that gamble,” said Koichi. “Besides, a fighter plane is more maneuverable than a destroyer. The heat ray I might be able to dodge.”
Akitsu, who was by now completely hammered, glared at Koichi as if trying to bore a hole straight through him. “You’re not just sayin’ this ’cause you wanna get shot down in a blaze of glory, are ya?” said the captain. “You must have some kinda death wish.”
“You’re drunk,” said Koichi.
“Wait, I get it. You just wanna avenge Nori-chan, don’t you?”
“You got a problem with that?”
“Oh, so now you give a damn about her…”
The captain grabbed Koichi by the collar and dragged him up out of his seat, knocking over the decanter on the table in the process. The sound of shattering pottery rang out through the bar.
“How come you didn’t man up and make her your wife before, huh?” said Akitsu. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t tell how she felt about you.”
Koichi ripped the other man’s hand off his collar.
“Of course I did,” he spat. “You don’t think that’s what I wanted?”
“Then why’d you let her get away?” the captain demanded.
For a moment, Koichi hesitated, unsure if he should be quite so open about his emotions. But these were his crewmates; he wanted them to know how he truly felt.
“Because, this war isn’t over yet,” he said. “Not for me.”
Sensing for the first time the true depth of the darkness that still hung heavy over Koichi, the other members of Shinsei Maru’s crew fell silent.
A few days later, after Noda dropped him a line with good tidings, Koichi drove his motorbike out to an old abandoned aircraft hangar in the suburbs.
“So you actually found a plane?” he asked, lowering his kickstand.
“We did indeed,” said Noda, as he waved Koichi into the hangar. “But it’s a bit of a peculiar one, just to forewarn you.”