The beast looked to be in its death throes. And despite the sense of victorious relief this gave the men aboard each of the ships, they also found themselves trembling with a sort of uneasy guilt at the sight. This otherworldly creature—who by rights should be far beyond the realm of mortals—was about to have its life extinguished by human hands. They asked themselves: Was this what it felt like to kill a god?
But they would receive no answer, as even the question was premature.
Beneath the waves, Noda could see a bluish light beginning to glow.
It was right where the creature’s tail would have been.
“No…” he gasped. “Was that not enough to kill it?”
He couldn’t believe it. The beast still had the strength left to fire its heat ray. Bit by bit, the light slowly crept up Godzilla’s spine—its dorsal fins jutting out one after another. For the men aboard Yukikaze, it felt like watching a countdown to their doom.
There was nothing else anyone could do.
How had they come so far, just to fail?
Such were the disparate thoughts running through Noda’s brain as he and the other crew members stood there in silence on the deck, watching the blue light gather around Godzilla’s mouth, savoring their last few, fleeting seconds in this world.
But just then, like a bolt from the blue, they heard the windblown wail of a propeller engine whirring past as a fighter plane pierced through the skies above them.
“What the hell is he doing?” said Akitsu.
“No… he can’t be!” Noda gasped.
“Wait, is that,” Mizushima mumbled. “Hold on…”
The three men all had the same exact thought simultaneously.
It was the one thing they feared Koichi might do.
Especially now that the chips were down and so many lives were on the line.
“Don’t do it, Shikishima!” Akitsu shouted at the top of his lungs.
But his voice was drowned out by the sound of the waves and the engine’s roar, as Shinden raced over the surface of the water toward Godzilla’s gaping mouth. Koichi could hear the sound of the bombs shifting in his fuselage from the turbulence, and the photo of Noriko he’d brought from her memorial altar fluttered on his instrument panel.
In that moment, it almost felt like she was smiling at him—with that same, beaming smile he could still picture so clearly in the back of his mind even now.
Koichi pulled the safety release for his explosive payload.
And then gripped the lever just beside his seat.
Shinden pierced the back of Godzilla’s throat with a shriek that filled the sky.
Followed by a moment of silence—then the fighter’s payload detonated deep inside the creature’s gullet. Then, with a thundering boom, almost the entirety of Godzilla’s head was blown to kingdom come in a massive explosion.
“Shikishima!” Akitsu screamed.
The three men standing on the bridge wing, as well as all of the crew members down who’d been watching on the deck below, knew exactly what had just transpired.
They simply stood there, staring at a headless Godzilla, with a mixture of conflicting emotions swirling through their heads. Relief. Bewilderment. Gratitude. And not a small amount of anger directed at Koichi for the selfish yet selfless choice he’d made.
Tachibana, too, knew what had happened the moment he heard the blast over the radio at the hangar. He swallowed hard and turned his gaze toward the sky.
Just then, Noda spotted something out of the corner of his eye. “Wait!” he shouted. “Look there!”
He pointed up at a large white object falling slowly from the sky.
It was a parachute.
Just before Koichi had taken off, Tachibana had explained to him one other very important feature of Shinden, which none of the other planes he’d flown had ever come equipped with. It had to do with the plane’s German-made ejection seat.
“When you pull that lever,” Tachibana had said, “you’ll be launched out of the cockpit.”
Stunned, Koichi had looked up at Tachibana, unable to believe what he was hearing.
Yet for once, there was nothing but kindness in the other man’s eyes.
“You need to live,” he said, placing one hand on Koichi’s shoulder.
Koichi could feel the warmth in his grip.
When he thought of all the men who’d lost their lives on Odo Island and considered how emotionally significant this gesture must have been for Tachibana, all he could do was lower his head and stare down at his knees.
Finally, over the radio, came the words that Tachibana had been waiting to hear:
“Pilot ejected! He’s alive!”
Tachibana had been leaning over the table in anticipation—but now he nearly fell backward into his chair as he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
He nodded, satisfied. He nodded again and again.
Godzilla’s gargantuan body—still glowing blue from the heat ray it had been charging—slowly began to disintegrate, with beams of blinding white light piercing its hide as the creature crumbled to pieces in the ocean.
Koichi looked down from high above in his parachute as what for years had tormented his dreams and waking nightmares returned to the sea from whence it came.
It was finally over.
He could have been proud.
His heart should have been racing with excitement.
But in that moment, all he felt inside was one simple thing: It’s over.
The men on the ships’ decks, too, wore solemn expressions as they watched Godzilla’s final moments. Perhaps they knew, deep down, that what they’d done here today was something that, by rights, mortal men should not have been capable of.
One by one, the sailors raised their hands in salute as the monster fell away.
For these navy men, who’d all risked life and limb in an unwinnable war just three years prior, it was the deepest show of respect they could offer the dead. In truth, even the beast itself could be called a victim of that war, its body having been hideously mutated and scarred by a product of humanity’s greatest folly.
Perhaps it was for this reason that they felt compelled to salute Godzilla as the creature sank beneath the waves, leaving only a cloud of black smoke in its wake.
When Yukikaze and Hibiki returned to port, the entire harbor was flooded with people who’d heard the news of Godzilla’s death and come out to celebrate the ships’ safe return. As soon as Koichi stepped off the gangway onto dry land, he was nearly pounced upon by a very emotional Mizushima, whose boat had docked before theirs.
“You did it!” he said, eyes full of tears. “You really did it!”
Noda and Akitsu playfully rustled Mizushima’s hat on his head; the stubborn brat deserved his fair share of props as well for bringing in the cavalry in their hour of need.
Just then, Koichi spotted a familiar face among the crowd.
Sumiko, her expression distraught.
She had Akiko in her arms.
“What’s the matter, Sumiko-san?” he asked as she pushed her way over.
The woman looked as though she was struggling not to cry as she shoved a telegram into Koichi’s hands. Sensing it was urgent, he hurriedly unfolded the piece of paper and read what was written on it—then looked back at Sumiko in disbelief.
His gaze was desperate and begging for answers. But Akiko clearly had no idea what was happening, as she looked back and forth between the two. And Sumiko didn’t offer any additional explanation. She just shoved him on the shoulder over and over.
It still didn’t feel real to Koichi as he rushed up the staircase with Akiko in his arms. His feet felt uncertain beneath him, as though he were running on clouds that he might fall through at any moment. But all he could do was pray the telegram had told it true—that it wasn’t just some sort of cruel joke—as he raced down the hall and swung open the door to the hospital room.
And then there she was.
Sitting right there on a bed by the window.
She looked over at him with the same heartrending gaze he still remembered each time he pictured her in his mind and asked:
“Is your war…finally over now?”
With her head all wrapped in bandages, Noriko was in a sorry state—but she was still breathing, despite it all, and her conviction was as firm as ever. Staggering over to her bedside, Koichi knelt down and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t say a word; he just held her close. Burying his head into her lap, he simply nodded. Yes—the war was over at last.
But as Noriko ran her fingers through his hair, something slowly began creeping up the back of her neck. A small, black sore, almost like a bruise. Shifting. Changing.
Meanwhile…
In the depths of the ocean, there was a loud thump—as one of the scattered remnants of Godzilla’s body suddenly began to throb and pulsate like a beating heart.
At the bottom of the sea, nobody heard, and thus no one knew.
Only the scantest rays of sunlight, filtered through the rippling waves above, reached far enough into the briny deep to illuminate the harrowing truth yet lurking in its darkest fathoms—a truth from which there could be no escaping.
For the regeneration had already begun.
It was only a matter of time.
FIN