“I need you to repair a fighter plane for me…” he pleaded. “So that I can kill that monster once and for all!”
“You?” said Tachibana. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“No, I mean it! That’s the whole reason I needed to find you! And why I sent out all those letters too! Please, you have to understand!”
This entreaty from Koichi clearly caught Tachibana off guard, as he hesitated for a moment—before asking, “And why the hell should I lift a single finger to help you of all people, huh?” and giving Koichi one last kick, then stomping out of the room. Still bound, Koichi wriggled like a worm to crawl across the mudroom in pursuit. He couldn’t let Tachibana get away. Not after how hard he’d worked to track him down.
“You have to help us!” Koichi begged. “It’s something only you can do!”
“Yeah? And how’s that?”
“We were able to blow a hole in Godzilla’s mouth before by feeding it a naval mine. It was way more effective than even the main cannons of Takao—which means it’s more vulnerable on the inside than the outside. Don’t you see what I’m saying?”
At last, it seemed Tachibana caught Koichi’s meaning. The fiery gleam in Koichi’s eyes grew even brighter as he stared up at him like a man possessed.
“I’m going to fly a plane filled with explosives straight into the monster’s mouth…” he said. “It’s the only way we’ll ever kill Godzilla!”
Tachibana turned and looked down at Koichi.
“You mean…a kamikaze attack?” he said.
Koichi could tell the other man was on the verge of breaking.
He just needed to deal one final blow to push him over the edge.
“This war of ours…” he said. “It’s not over for you yet either…is it?”
The next day, Koichi sat with Noda in the hangar, waiting for Tachibana to arrive.
“That’s quite the shiner, I have to say,” said Noda, marveling at Koichi’s swollen eyelid. “Hard to believe you got it from tripping and falling.”
“Pretty embarrassing, I know,” said Koichi. “Guess I must have had a lot more to drink last night than I realized. I hardly even remember what happened.”
“Well, I can hardly blame you for wanting to celebrate a little after finally managing to track down Tachibana-san.”
Just then, a loud voice echoed through the hangar as Tachibana and a pair of assistants—both of whom had also been maintenance engineers—entered the building.
“So this is it, eh…?” he said. “A canard configuration. I’d heard rumors that they were working on one but never imagined they’d actually produce a full-on prototype.”
Noda and Koichi both hurried over to greet them.
“Tachibana-san!” said Koichi. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“So you’re this Tachibana-san, then,” said Noda.
“I am,” said Tachibana. “And I take it this is our elusive short-range interceptor? The J7W Shinden… Hard to believe it’s not just a fairy tale.”
“Do you think you can make it airworthy, by any chance?” asked Noda.
Tachibana gave the plane a quick once-over with his assistants, then turned and gave Noda a confident nod. “We’ll do everything in our power to get it flying,” he said.
“Oh, thank you so much!” said Noda. “You’re a real lifesaver, truly!”
As Noda joyously shook the other man’s hand, Tachibana and Koichi exchanged a meaningful glance in acknowledgment of the top-secret plan they’d hatched together.
Meanwhile, at the Zushi naval port, work was already well underway to load the necessary materials for Operation Wadatsumi onto the participating vessels. Alongside Yukikaze—which had been hastily remodeled for the purposes of this mission—were crates upon crates filled with Freon gas cylinders, rapidly inflating flotation balloons, and 46cm shells, all arranged at the rear of the vessel in a neat, orderly fashion. Behind them was a large crane, which had been specially installed on the ship’s stern, as well as a massive coil of thick, reinforced marine wire.
All around the harbor, people were hurrying to and fro, encouraging one another as they strove to complete all of the necessary preparation work within the next two days, since there was no telling when Godzilla might reappear.
Watching them go about their work, Noda seemed slightly less enthusiastic; if anything, his expression was even a bit grim. Noticing this even from afar, Akitsu—with Mizushima in tow—walked over and called out to the other man with concern.
“What’s the matter, Doc?” he said. “Can’t be havin’ the mastermind behind the whole operation lookin’ so glum right before it starts. That’s just bad for morale.”
“Well, not to be pessimistic about my own plan, but I’m starting to think we’ll need a bona fide miracle in order to actually pull this off,” said Noda.
Akitsu couldn’t disagree with that. And yet, even so…
“That may be true,” he said, “but we’re sure as hell not gonna get a miracle by sitting on our asses and doing nothing either.”
“A fair point,” said Noda.
“Plus, just look at these guys’ faces.”
It was only after being told to do so that Noda realized it—all of the men running frantically around the harbor seemed awfully excited to be there. Elated, almost.
“They’re not stupid,” said Akitsu. “They know damn well they’re putting their lives on the line here, even though the odds are against us. But see how their faces are beaming with pride in spite of all that? They’re downright giddy to have the chance to serve their country again. To make a difference this time around.”
“You think that’s what it is…?” said Noda.
“I mean, aren’t you and I in the same boat, Doc? This is an opportunity to prove we didn’t live through a goddamn war for nothing. For all of us.”
Standing in the background, Mizushima nodded firmly at this assertion as well.
On the surface of the ocean, a faint light flickered rapidly in the darkness as the Geiger counter embedded in one of the radiation detection buoys finally picked up the signal it was looking for. This information was quickly relayed to Noda, who called for an emergency meeting of all the main actors in Operation Wadatsumi. Once everyone had been assembled, Noda came rushing into the room with his assistants—with a large, rolled-up sea chart in his hands and a stern but composed look on his face.
“Just one hour ago,” he began, rolling the sea chart out on the table, “we picked up a signal on one of our Geiger counters located just east of Hachijō-jima, at 33.1 degrees north, 140.46 degrees east. Since then, we’ve gotten two more signals from buoys due north of that one—here and here.”
Using a pair of rulers, Noda drew a line between the three points, then continued tracing its trajectory to its natural conclusion: Tokyo.
“Gentlemen, Godzilla is on its way,” he said. “At its current speed, it should arrive at the Sagami Trough around 1100 hours tomorrow morning, which means we’ll need to set sail no later than 0800 ourselves in order to meet it there.”
Then, Noda paused for a moment, his expression clouding over a bit. He knew the rapid-rising flotation device was running a bit behind schedule. He turned to the representatives from the Toyo Balloon Company, who glanced among themselves in turn.
“Do you think you’ll have it ready in time?” he asked.
“You’ll just have to take us on board with you, I fear,” said the company president. “We could really use those extra three hours in transit to make some final adjustments. And for an operation like this, we don’t want to settle for anything less than perfection.”
“I appreciate that, but…it would mean putting your lives at risk as well.”
The president of Toyo Balloon just smiled at this. “Don’t worry about us,” he said. “We’ve seen our fair share of war too.”
Noda simply nodded at the man, this reassurance having relieved his anxieties a bit. Then he turned over his shoulder to address all of the other men in attendance.
“Well then, everyone,” he said, “I’d like to ask that we all go home tonight and try to spend what little time we have remaining with our families and loved ones.”
“So in other words, be prepared to die?” asked one of the men.
Noda looked at the man for a moment, then gently shook his head. “You know, it’s quite sad really,” he said. “For so long, this country has been treating human lives as something far too disposable. Placing its citizens in poorly armored tanks. Neglecting supply line issues to the point that more than half of all our military casualties were due to starvation or disease. Building fighter planes without even the most basic of ejection mechanisms. In the end, we even resorted to suicide attacks—lauding our so-called ‘kamikaze’ pilots as if they’d chosen their ‘honorable death’ of their own volition.
“But not this time. I don’t want us to make the same mistake. I would rather take pride in this being a citizen-led operation that did not produce a single casualty, than be seen as a group of martyrs who sacrificed their lives for their country. So no. Don’t think of this as a fight to the death. Think of it as a fight to go on living—in the future we all deserve. A future we can all be proud of together.”