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It was from sheer chance in the end—and not from Ghidorah’s malicious machinations, as one would have expected—that the little human took the hit. That Ghidorah’s tail swung as he dodged Godzilla, right as she ran to avoid a burning, tumbling car. That the meat of his tail, and not the wicked spikes, connected solidly with the child’s side.
Despite how small the human was, all four Titans on Boston’s battlefield were immediately and wholly aware of the horrible way her body was flung across the wreckage to crash down amidst the remains of a decimated building.
There was, for a long moment, utter stillness on both sides. Say what you will about friends and enemies, but every Titan alive knew well what Godzilla thought of humans. His protection of them was unquestionable (except, ironically, to the humans themselves), but he had a particularly strong sense of fondness and respect for anyone brave and daring enough to work with him. If it was in battle itself, even more so.
They knew how, just five years ago, though neither Mothra nor Rodan—and especially not Ghidorah—were present, a rogue Titan had faced his ultimate wrath for her threats against a human who had turned the tides of that battle for him.
And now this human, this child who was most certainly either dead or close to it, who had pulled exactly the sort of stunt only someone with a warrior’s brave heart could stomach, had just been pummeled by Ghidorah’s tail. Unintentionally, yes, but pummeled nonetheless.
Their stillness was one of acknowledgement, particularly on Ghidorah and Rodan’s side, that perhaps the worst possible move had just been made. Godzilla’s eyes, blazing impossibly brighter, locked on the pile of debris the child had disappeared into, as if hoping to see movement.
There could not have been a worse human for Ghidorah to take out. This, they were all silently aware of. Long before she’d painted the most enticing target on her location, she’d reached out to Mothra with breathless awe and refused to flinch away. She’d looked upon Ghidorah’s frozen form and laid her hand against the ice which housed him. He was not so asleep as to miss that. Godzilla’s approval and respect was the last of a triad of connections to Titan-kind.
Ghidorah’s meekest head ducked low and chittered, the closest to an apology a creature such as him would ever stoop to. Rodan was suddenly much less interested in fighting Mothra—or rather, being aligned with Ghidorah.
There was no movement from the rubble. The worst was easy to assume—they all knew how fragile humans were.
All three Titans watched Godzilla. The human aircrafts buzzing about their heads were the last thing on any of their minds. For the first time since waking up, Ghidorah had the strong urge to flee. Only his pride kept him rooted, though his fear kept him from taking advantage of Godzilla’s distraction.
Finally, a huff, almost soft and deceptively gentle, escaped the King. He raised his head, tail lashing behind him. The earth went quiet for a beat as he leaned forward, braced himself against a partially collapsed building, and roared. The sound shook the hearts of all who heard it, as it rose in pitch to reach something close to the whine of his charging spines.
His stance was all wild, his body extended like the monstrous reptiles of the age before humanity. This roar went on far longer than his usual grumbles and bellows. Nearby buildings, already precarious and falling apart, collapsed in on themselves and released great plumes of dust.
The echo was still ringing in their ears when Godzilla lunged across the ruins, his bared teeth aiming for Ghidorah’s throat, his rage greater than anything any of the other Titans had ever seen. Perched on a skyscraper, Rodan beat his wings a few times as the two clashed together with enough power to shake the world with a shockwave.
He made his decision as he watched Godzilla attack Ghidorah with such swift ferocity that the three-headed Titan could barely keep up. Rodan tipped off the building and circled close enough to Mothra to screech quietly to her, but not so close as to threaten her. Ghidorah had signed his death with the loss of a single human life, and he wanted no part in the false king’s consequences.
Mothra trilled her acceptance of his surrender and subsequent retreat, so Rodan took to the storm clouds and began the long flight home.
Alone on her own crumbling skyscraper, Mothra took a moment to observe her King. She couldn’t recall a time he’d been so full of vengeful wrath. He’d had his black moods and temper tantrums, and threats to the planet always earned his ire, but this was beyond all that. Even his rage five years ago against the rogue had been short-lived in the end.
Ghidorah, she knew with a great and unchangeable certainty, would not survive this battle. And as much as she wished to step in and aid her King, now was not the time to interfere. She fluttered her wings as he tore his claws through Ghidorah’s own wings, leaving gaping gouges behind.
Something else caught her attention—a small group of humans had landed their aircraft and were wandering the wreckage, decently far from where Godzilla was forcing Ghidorah backward with every strike.
Having a good idea of what those humans were doing, Mothra took once more to the sky. She recognized a few as she drew closer, though they were too focused on their task to notice her. They were all calling out into the smoky darkness, the same word over and over and with increasing despair and desperation.
“Maddie!”
The human child, no doubt. Slowly scanning the city’s wreckage, Mothra found the pile the girl had been tossed into. An explosion ripped through the air, Godzilla’s atomic breath competing against Ghidorah’s gravity beams for dominance. Her King was winning, she saw at a glance.
Illuminating her wings, Mothra directed her brilliant light straight down, leading the humans to the child just as she’d led them to Godzilla.
The man who she recognized from then was the first to understand, and he tore across the ruined cityscape, shouting for the others to follow. His desperation was different, much bleaker and so full of resounding sorrow. The child’s father, no doubt.
Mothra knew the pain of losing a daughter, so she didn’t hesitate to increase the glow she gave off, all the better to guide him in his search.
As they picked through the rubble below, she kept an eye on the nearly one-sided battle some distance away. Godzilla remained merciless, nearly feral in his attacks. Ghidorah was down a head and both wings, and with the way things were going, would lose most of his tail soon. His unnatural healing couldn’t even hope to keep up.
“Maddie!”
The calls were still of a seeking nature. The child had not yet been found.
Suddenly concerned the debris had shifted since the girl’s body had been pitched into it, she carefully descended the rest of the way to the ground. A few of the humans watched warily, backing away from where her limbs found purchase in the dust. Mothra leaned in, wings alight like the obscured sun, and used her mandibles to nudge away some of the broken concrete.
Two of the humans dared to creep closer—the child’s father, and the woman from when Mothra hatched. Considering the presence of the girl, Maddie, back then, she was likely her mother.
An unhappy chitter escaped her, startling the humans. Both parents would be forced to face the sight of their dead daughter.
Finally, after a bit of shifting, she revealed the little human. She was slumped against a boulder-sized chunk of building, all rag-doll limbs from the violent way she’d been knocked aside. Mothra could smell the blood leaking from her wounds.
She backed off to allow them space to mourn without fear of her, and while the woman, the mother, began wailing, Mothra sought out her King.
Ah. The humans needed to leave immediately. His spines glowed red, and the cracks between his scales stood out like magma amongst dirt.
Even as she thought this, she heard one of the unfamiliar humans voice something similar. Apparently, their attempt to restore Godzilla’s health had “worked a little too well.”
Just as they seemed ready to return to their aircraft, Maddie’s father made a sound so full of pain and hope, it immediately drew her eyes back to him.
“She—she’s alive! She has a pulse, I felt it!”
This revelation, though joyful, presented a problem. The humans didn’t think they had time to return to their aircraft, bring it closer, safely remove Maddie from her concrete tomb without worsening her already-precarious condition, and take off to a safe distance before Godzilla’s radiation became deadly.
Even if little Maddie hadn’t earned her King’s favor, Mothra remembered the feel of her tiny palm against her face. Without care for their wariness, she ducked down again, sending a few of the humans scrambling away when she came close to pressing against the mound of wreckage.
Crouched in the dusty hole beside his daughter’s unconscious body, the man froze as her mandibles extended. No matter how sharp and dangerous they were, Mothra knew how to be gentle. The tiniest of trills seemed to spark the father into action, and he was able to maneuver Maddie with minimal jostling into their cradle.
She carefully pulled back, the man struggling up after her. A glance at Godzilla told her the humans had less time than they’d thought—his incomprehensible rage was likely making the reaction they’d jumpstarted happen faster—which left them with precious few remaining minutes.
Though she could sense the brokenness in the child’s body, she settled Maddie in her father’s trembling arms. Proper precautions would have to be forgone to ensure they were far enough away before Godzilla’s radiation burned everything around him to ash.
Mothra lowered her body and shifted to present her side to the slack-jawed man. A chirp and slow extending of one of her legs as a sort of ramp seemed to convince him that she was, in fact, offering them a ride out of Boston.
Two of the humans scaled her abdomen and the third followed after the father, all of them working together to keep him from losing his balance and risking his precious cargo. Mothra hoped it wasn’t too late. Even now, Maddie could die any moment.
“This is crazy,” one of the humans atop her said. Most of them were chattering nervously in agreement, but she still heard the man’s voice above the rest.
“Thank you, Mothra.”
She took it as confirmation of their readiness, and with steady wings, she took off. She could already feel the beginning waves of heat from her King, so she flew as fast as she dared with her passengers.
Though she couldn’t look back, she heard a triumphant bellow and Ghidorah’s dying shrieks. He’d done it, almost entirely on his own in the end. But no, that wasn’t quite right, was it?
The most invaluable help Godzilla had received today, in this battle, had not been her own or that of the humans in their loud aircraft. It came from the smallest human on her back, the one with the warrior’s brave heart.
And Mothra hoped with all she was for the child, for Maddie, to survive this so the King could one day thank her.
• • •
The city burned around him, and it was with tremendous satisfaction that Godzilla watched the last embers of Ghidorah fall to pieces. His challenger and would-be usurper died, every last part of him, and there would be no regenerating this time. He’d made sure to stab his magma-marked claws into the monster’s chest and wrench out his heart.
A roar of triumph, so different from the one which had marked the beginnings of his rage, grew within him, and he made no effort to keep it contained. The city he’d helped level was empty of any and all living creatures, but that was not his greatest concern.
He stumbled from the wave of weary exhaustion that suddenly fell over him. Remembering the cause of his unnatural fury tore at his heart.
There weren’t many humans who trusted his purpose as a protector. Even fewer dared get close to him. The number of the brave souls who, in some way, stood by him in battle was smallest of all.
He’d lost one of that number today. The little human who had the nerve to send out a challenge to Ghidorah, to lure him in and face his wrath—and even dared to roar back!—had been cut down in the early moments of battle.
She would never see that her courageous action had been the opening move in the final battle Ghidorah would ever face. How would things have gone if the human child hadn’t done what she did? How long would Ghidorah have gone unchallenged, thanks to his easy evasion of his ocean-based enemy?
Godzilla snarled down at the ravaged earth. The world had her to thank, the girl who stood as bravely as if she were a Titan herself, a champion worthy of his respect.
He turned towards the distant water, ready to return to the depths and sleep off his battle wounds and the ache in his heart. Just as he began his descent into the choppy waves, the approaching trill of his Queen lifted his head.
Mothra soared through the smoke to him, her call begging him to wait. He rumbled back, voicing his pleasure that she was alive and seemed unharmed.
She was quick to explain Rodan’s withdrawal from the fight almost as soon as Ghidorah made his fatal mistake. The reminder once again brought forth a fierce twist of anger in his face.
No, no, his Queen chittered. There was still hope. The child had been found—Maddie, her name was Maddie—and she’d yet lived when Mothra delivered her and her parents to safety.
They were unsure, she explained. Though she hadn’t stuck around long enough to take in any details of the girl’s condition, the question of her ultimate survival was unanswerable. Her injuries had been great, Mothra told him, but she believed in Maddie’s ability to overcome them.
She’d been strong enough to do what she did, as well as survive the initial strike of Ghidorah’s tail, after all.
It was a tenuous hope, and humans were so fragile, but in that moment, Godzilla allowed himself to believe as well.
• • •
Two Months Later
Godzilla swam back and forth, pacing as much as he was capable of in the ocean, and failed to distract himself from the surface. Just above him was a newly built platform extending from the humans’ partially submerged base within his territory. It was designed, as he’d demonstrated on previous days, to be the perfect height so as to put a human right in front of him when he bothered to emerge from the ocean.
There was even a floating portion perfect for Mothra to settle on—and she’d already made something of a nest there. She was perched there now, and it was her signal he was waiting for.
The little human, Maddie, had survived. Mothra had been exceptionally pleased to deliver frequent updates on her ever-improving condition, as the child’s father had taken it upon himself to let the Titan who ultimately saved his daughter’s life know how she was doing.
Today was the day when Maddie would arrive at the base—already had, in fact, and now he was waiting for the humans inside to let her see him.
Communication was difficult, but something seemed to have gotten across regarding Godzilla’s desire to meet the human who kickstarted the battle in Boston. For creatures who were so intelligent in other areas, the concept of even attempting to understand Godzilla seemed beyond their comprehension.
The brave man who’d sacrificed himself had made more of an effort in the immensely short amount of time they’d had than anyone else bothered day in and day out.
Godzilla huffed, blowing bubbles into the water. His frustration could be saved for later, for when he wasn’t about to meet a brave little champion.
Accompanying this thought was the signal he’d been waiting for, Mothra’s bright light flaring around him for a brief moment. Giving himself one last great shake, Godzilla began to rise to the surface.
He broke through the waves slowly, because the one thing worse than cautious humans were startled humans with weapons. Any possible risk to the child was to be avoided. Godzilla pushed out of the water enough for his head to be mostly level with the platform. There were a few humans lingering close to the building, ready to observe the meeting and intervene if necessary.
The King paid little attention to them, though, because the doors leading into the base were just closing behind two newcomers.
For the first time, Godzilla was able to get a good look at Maddie, the little human with the brave heart.
The poor thing was pale and too thin. Her time healing had clearly taken its toll on her. She moved gingerly, perhaps expecting pain, though he couldn’t smell blood or infection on her. One of the final stages of her recovery had apparently involved simply relearning movement. It was likely she was still weak.
That was okay. Better she was alive and well enough to have both the need and ability to restrengthen her muscles than the alternative.
Godzilla watched carefully for any sign of fear in the little human as she approached. Her sire walked along beside her and kept one hand hovering above her back, prepared to support her if necessary. He looked nervous enough for the both of them.
But the child showed nothing of the sort. She stepped right up to the railing to lean against it, which served to convince her sire to drop his hand.
She glanced down at Mothra. A plainly happy smile lit up her tired face. His Queen chirped up at the girl, and from the way Maddie’s smile widened, she understood Mothra was equally pleased to see her.
When the child looked back up at him, he huffed softly, a steady rumble building in his throat. Maddie’s grin didn’t falter. In fact, as he carefully drew closer to the platform, it only grew, igniting something in her eyes.
And when he huffed a gentle breath over her and held perfectly still while her tiny hand reached out to press against his scales, she laughed.
Godzilla, in his own way, smiled fiercely. He’d failed to protect her in the battle, but not again. Never again. He’d make sure this little brave-hearted human was strong and safe and happy. Mothra, he knew, would do the same. It was not often, after all, that someone reached out to them. Every moment when one did was to be treasured.