Chapter Text
"Monsters are tragic beings; they are born too tall, too strong, too heavy, they are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy.”
- Ishirō Honda
Summer 1945
The rays of the tropical sun shining through the acrylic glass were slowly burning Eren Yeager’s shoulders. The Sakae 52 engine of the Type 0 carrier-based fighter makes a light sound.
Eren tightened his grip on the controls, his gloved fingers feeling the slight vibrations of the engine hum. Beside him, through the cockpit's peripheries, the vast, sparkling blue of the Pacific stretched endlessly, seemingly tranquil under the baking warmth of the sky.
In another life, the mission was simple, even if the execution was suicide: find the enemy vessel and ram it, or perish beneath a hail of heavy antiaircraft fire and scatter into the depths of the sea.
But Eren was still here.
A heavy feeling sat in his chest, knowing that likely none of his comrades who ventured south alongside him were still breathing. They were ghosts now, claimed by the ocean. With a determined grit, he pulled the aircraft into a wide, sweeping U-turn. If he maintained this path, the silhouette of Odo Island—his temporary sanctuary and emergency landing base—would soon break the horizon.
Eren couldn't be certain if he could actually pull this off. But if he claimed an engine malfunction, it would buy him a day or two—enough time to think, to plan, to breathe without a gun to his head.
This war had to end soon. It had to. If he could just survive long enough, he could fulfill that final promise he made to his parents.
Odo Island was supposed to be nothing more than a maintenance outpost. That was the small spark of hope he held onto: that the soldiers there would be men of maintenance and repair, possessing gentler tempers than the officers he'd encountered at sea.
The island emerged from the horizon, a dark speck that slowly swelled into a presence.
As the distance closed, the true state of the airstrip became painfully clear. It wasn't the smooth stretch of runway he needed; instead, the earth was scarred and pitted, peppered with craters and jagged holes from previous bombardments. It was a landscape of ruin that would tear a cockpit to pieces if he weren't careful.
Eren banked the plane, circling once over the devastation to survey the terrain. He peered down, eyes searching for a fragment of smoothness amidst the chaos, before finally settling on a potential landing course.
Eren slowly squeezed the throttle, his knuckles white, fighting to compensate for the erratic, jarring momentum of a landing that felt more like a battle against the earth than an arrival.
Eren let the aircraft drop slightly to the left of the runway, aiming for a patch of dirt that appeared clearer. After a momentary wobble, the nose swerved back to the right, just as he hoped. Using the momentum and his skill with the flaps, he eased the plane down, avoiding the larger craters that waited like open wounds in the soil.
The engine's roar faded to a sputtering, metallic cough as the aircraft finaly skidded to a messy halt, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.
Eren had come agonizingly close. Only a few centimeters separated his aircraft from the mouth of a massive, mortar-shaped crater that waited ahead.
Had he slipped, the remaining fuel would have ignited, turning the Type 0 into a blazing tomb. Eren allowed himself a heavy, jagged breath, feeling the cold rush of sweat running down his body. It was a visceral, stinging reminder: he was alive.
As Eren was sitting near the command post, a man approached. He moved with a disciplined, sharp confidence—someone used to being in charge.
This was Levi Ackerman, a man widely considered the strongest soldier of their group; he carried a reputation for being both ruthless in discipline and quietly, deeply protective of those under his command.
Behind him, the maintenance crew who had been inspecting Eren’s aircraft stood with crossed arms, their eyes piercing and accusing. The secret was out—his "malfunction" was exposed.
But it didn't matter. It was physically impossible to launch a fighter jet from a runway that looked like a moonscape. The aircraft was grounded for good. If he could just endure the accusations and survive the politics, the island could be his sanctuary until the war's end.
"You are Eren Yeager, right? I'm Levi Ackerman, from the maintenance department of the Tsukuba Naval Air Corps. Do you remember me?" Levi asked as he approached Eren.
Eren searched his memory, and indeed, the name surfaced. Among the crew, Levi was a man they could not only rely on but genuinely adored. Coming face-to-face like this—after his lies had already been stripped away—felt intensely embarrassing.
He forced a smile, masking the embarrassment with feigned cheerfulness.
"Levi Ackerman! Of course. Thank you for your help with that section."
Levi’s eyes remained cool, unblinking, as he scanned Eren's face for a sign of deception. He didn't return the smile.
"Don't try to act like everything is fine, Yeager. You pulled a hard U-turn and landed on a mangled runway. Why didn't you report that malfunction at sea?" Levi asked in a commanding voice.
"I didn't notice anything was wrong with the aircraft until the very last moment. No matter how hard I checked, I still couldn’t find the malfunction."
Eren's voice trembled slightly, a fact he fought desperately to suppress under the weight of Levi's gaze. He met the man's cold eyes with a forced sense of sincerity, even as his heart hammered against his ribs.
Levi didn't look convinced. He let the silence hang between them for a heavy moment, his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced toward the aircraft, then back at the nervous pilot.
"A malfunction that only shows up when you decide to land on a battlefield of craters?" Levi asked, his voice quiet and laced with skepticism. "That's quite the convenient piece of technology you have there."
"Are you trying to say that I abandoned the battle?" Eren asked, his voice cracking with artificial outrage. He turned away from Levi, already pacing toward the shore in an attempt to end the confrontation.
"Abandonment is a heavy accusation," Levi's voice followed him, calm and unsettlingly detached. "And if it's true, the consequences are heavier. You're on an island with nothing but rocks and ruined airstrips, Yeager. You've essentially trapped yourself."
The island, which had once promised escape, felt like a pressure cooker. It was far from the gentle oasis he had imagined.
Later that evening, Eren sat alone by the shore, watching the sun's fiery descent below the horizon. He looked pale against the jagged rock, the stress of his arrival still heavy on him. A shadow fell across him, and a man approached: Erwin Smith, a mechanic whose name tag was clearly visible on his chest.
"No worries, I'm on your side. We need more people like you," Erwin said reassuringly as he sat down beside Eren.
"You don't even know me," Eren muttered.
"I know enough. I know Levi isn't easy on people, but he's fair," Erwin said with a small, knowing nod. He gestured out toward the dark ocean. "The world is burning out there. Why obey an order to “die honorably” when the outcome is already clear?"
Erwin looked out at the water, his expression thoughtful.
"I'm not talking about lying to your officers, Yeager. I'm talking about survival. This island is an outpost, but it's also an escape. We have people here who want nothing more than to finish this war and see their families again."
He let out a short,-hearted laugh.
"Besides, you're a decent pilot. It'd be a waste of good machinery to let you rot in a cell just because you had the sense to fly home."
With that said, Erwin stood and began heading back the way he had come, leaving Eren to his silence.
For the first time since arriving on this island, Eren was met with such genuine kindness that he felt a sting behind his eyes. He nearly burst into tears, the heavy burden of his isolation momentarily lifted.
Just as he managed to hold back, his eyes caught something strange washing up on the shore. It was a fish—but not one he recognized. It looked like a creature from the deepest, darkest trenches of the ocean. It was dead, its stomach being forced out of its mouth in a grotesque scene.
And there were more. Several dead deep-sea fish were being shoved against the sand by the rhythmic waves. Some even had their eyeballs bulging out of their sockets. A heavy, ominous feeling seeped through the cool ocean air.
When Eren returned to the base at dusk, he found Levi waiting. The commanding officer didn't say anything at first, merely motioning with his chin toward the command post.
A private trial? The thought sent a chill through Eren. Under martial law, evasion of enemy engagement was a serious crime, punishable by death. Eren walked into the building, his breathing becoming short and irregular, his throat tightening with dread.
He expected to see the cold, hard glare of military judges. Instead, the atmosphere inside was completely different than anything he had imagined.
Instead of a jury, he found himself in the middle of a bustling dinner preparation. A large pot of fish was simmering over a brazier, filling the command post with the scent of salt and oil.
Around him, the maintenance soldiers were not scowling; they were beckoning him with smiles.
"I was waiting for someone like you to come," one said.
"Isn't it quite difficult to evade special attacks?" another chimed in, his tone teasing.
"This war is almost over. It would be foolish to die now."
"If you hang out here with us, you'll be able to go back to the mainland soon," Erwin added, joining the warm banter.
Unbelievable. Despite his failure, they were accepting him.
Eren covered his face, the sheer weight of their kindness finally breaking him, and he began to sob.
"Now, don't cry and eat. It's a deep-sea fish hotpot, a specialty of Odo Island," one soldier joked, attempting to cheer him up.
"I just picked it up on the beach. It doesn't look good, but it's fresh," another added, ignoring the dubious nature of the catch.
"You don't eat much inland, do you?" Erwin added, his voice warm as he placed a hand on Eren’s shoulder.
The stew was unexpectedly delicious, its richness filling the gaps in Eren’s stomach. He realized then that he hadn't eaten anything substantial since leaving the mainland. He quietly worked the ladle through the broth, the warmth of the meal mirroring the warmth of the men around him.
But beneath the surface of the stew, the dark, strange fish continued to simmer, thick and savory.
At that moment, an air raid siren sounded. The siren wailed, a high-pitched shriek that sliced through the atmosphere of the base. In an instant, the maintenance soldiers transitioned back to trained men, leaving the dinner behind to grab their infantry guns and head for the exits.
"Enemy attack?" Levi asked, turning toward Erwin.
"No, there's a big shadow," Erwin answered, his voice tense.
The air seemed to vibrate as a colossal roar erupted from the shore—a sound so deep and primal it rattled the teeth in their skulls and shook the very ground beneath their feet.
"Is this a new weapon for the U.S. military?" Levi muttered, his hand tightening on his firearm.
Suddenly, a massive shape loomed on the edge of the beach, obscuring the moonlight.
"Forster! Forster! Light the beach!" Levi yelled towards the watchtower, gesturing toward Floch Forster.
As the searchlight cut through the gloom, it illuminated something utterly unnatural. The beam hit a creature of nightmare—a behemoth standing at least 15 meters tall. It possessed massive, thick limbs ending in sharp claws, and a line of jagged, dorsal plates ran from its spine to its tail. Its snout was filled with rows of uneven teeth, giving it the look of some prehistoric beast resurrected from Hell.
The monster let out a thunderous, agonized roar as the light hit it, and then it lunged.
The beast threw its massive bulk into the watchtower with terrifying force. The structure collapsed in a cloud of splintering wood and metal, and Floch was gone instantly.
"Forster! FORSTER!!!" Levi screamed, but no answer came from the broken timber of the tower.
"What in the hell is that?" Levi muttered, his gaze locked on the towering silhouette of the creature.
"It’s Godzilla," Erwin said, his voice calm despite the carnage.
Levi spun around, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What?"
"A native told me. It’s the one that brought up the deep-sea fish. They call it Godzilla," Erwin replied, meeting Levi's gaze with gravity.
The beast stood poised amidst the wreckage of the tower, its skin smoldering where the searchlights had struck, and its breathing sounded like a heavy tide rushing into a cavern.
"G-G-Godzilla?" Eren stammered, his mind unable to process the sheer impossibility of the creature before him.
The beast lowered its massive snout, grabbing several stockpiled drums of gasoline with effortless ease. With a sickening crunch, it crushed them, splashing the fuel across the grass. Using the flickering, sparking remains of the searchlight, it ignited the fuel, creating a massive plume of flame. Godzilla roared into the heat, its mountainous silhouette illuminated by the roaring orange blaze.
The monster's hide was coated in rough, jagged scales that caught the firelight, and its massive eyes shimmered with a predatory, red-orange glow.
Each heavy, rhythmic step from the monster felt like a localized earthquake, rattling Eren’s teeth as the ground groaned beneath his feet.
"Get down to the trenches! Now!" Levi’s voice cut through the air.
The command sent the maintenance crew scrambling. Eren dug his fingers into the dirt, sliding into the muddy trench alongside the others, breath hitching in his chest. From the narrow slit of their hiding place, the view was terrifying. Godzilla moved with a slow, deliberate purpose, his massive shadow sweeping across the base like a death sentence.
For a moment, he seemed to pause, his nostrils flaring as if scanning for the scent of warmth and blood. Eren held his breath, praying the heavy smell of gasoline would mask their presence.
Levi’s eyes flickered between the hulking presence of Godzilla and the stranded Type Zero fighter.
"Yeager, can you reach your 20mm gun?" Levi whispered, his voice low and sharp. "You're our only gunner. We're just mechanics."
"But what if it only makes it angry?" Eren hissed, desperation cracking his composure.
"A 20-mm gun can kill anything!" Levi snapped back, gripping Eren's shoulder to urge him on.
Levi pushed Eren forcefully, shoving Eren out of the muddy ditch. "Hurry, before it gets too close. Go! Now!"
With his heart drumming against his ribs, Eren scrambled through the grass toward the cockpit. He hauled himself in, trying to keep the metal from clattering, and clutched the firing lever. At that exact moment, the sudden movement caused the mechanism to click.
Godzilla stopped.
The titan's massive head dipped low, positioning his enormous snout directly in front of the Zero's canopy. His gaze, intense and unsettlingly clever, bore down on Eren through the glass. For an agonizing second, the beast just lingered, staring into the eyes of the man in the cockpit as if pondering his existence.
Eren sat frozen, his fingers trembling against the steel as the monster's furious gaze remained fixed on him.
In the trenches, Levi was getting both irritated and nervous, his eyes burning with fury.
"What is he doing in there?" he hissed, teeth clenched. "Is he waiting for it to eat him?"
If Godzilla let out even a louder grunt, the Zero's Browning guns would tear him apart, yet the pilot made no move to defend himself.
"Now! Shoot! Shoot!" Levi hissed again, though his voice was muffled by the dirt and the wind. But the sound didn't reach the cockpit.
Suddenly, Godzilla's intense attention shifted. He lowered his head and slowly turned, starting to stalk toward the exact location where Levi and the others were hiding. He was walking straight for the trench.
Panic spread through the trench like a virus. As the enormous shadows loomed in front of them, the men's discipline crumbled under the weight of sheer terror. One soldier, eyes wide and unseeing, even managed to slam a round into his rifle and pull the trigger.
"Stop! Don't shoot, you idiots!" Levi barked, his voice competing with the thunder of gunfire.
But it was too late. The crack of rifle shots rang out, desperate and frantic. The sound acted as a call to battle, or rather, a signal for the beast.
The roar that followed was ear-splitting. Godzilla's jaw unhinged, emitting a sound so visceral that dirt and rocks danced in the air. In an explosion of movement that defied his massive size, the monster dove toward the trench, his jagged plates crashing toward the men's hideout.
"GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!!!" Levi's roar echoed the commands for everyone to abandon the ditch.
As the men scrambled out of the trench, the base exploded into chaos. Godzilla's massive foot slammed into the trench right where they had been hiding, his weight crushing everything in their path. Levi felt an impact slam against him; a jagged piece of splintered wood from the trench enclave snapped and whipped across his leg, leaving it throbbing with sharp pain.
"Don't worry, Ackerman! I've got you—" The soldier who had been pulling Levi suddenly gasped. His voice was cut off by a sickening crunch. The soldier's scream was short-lived as he was snatched up by Godzilla's massive jaws and flung into the air like a piece of discarded trash.
The campsite was turned into a killing field in seconds. The soldiers’ terrified firing only seemed to entice the creature. Godzilla became a vortex of motion, snapping his massive jaws over screaming men, crushing them under his massive feet, and lashing out with his tail that acted like a colossal whip.
A frantic group of survivors scrambled toward the command post, hoping for cover, but the destruction was total. A whip-like snap of Godzilla's tail pulverized the building into splinters and debris.
From inside his cockpit, Eren watched the carnage. He sat motionless, frozen, his vision blurring with shock as the entire campsite crumbled into ruin.
Through the blurry lens of his fear, he saw Erwin. The soldier who had offered such warmth was now charging through the smoke and debris, his face strained with terrifying determination.
"I'll draw it this way! Shoot to kill!" Erwin screamed, his voice barely able to top the roar of the wind.
But the creature was faster. In a sickening, instant flash, Godzilla’s jaws clamped shut around Erwin's waist. The man's words were cut short by a horrific, final scream that seemed to echo against the very waves of the ocean as he was flung violently away into the distance.
Eren watched the spot where Erwin had landed, the emptiness in his gut growing more hollow with every second.
Eren's legs scrambled across the grass, his mouth tearing open in a primal, uncontrolled scream. He lunged out of the cockpit and bolted, his only thought to flee the beast's shadow.
Godzilla didn't let him escape easily. The titan's jaws snapped shut over the Zero Fighter, and with a swift, powerful motion, he hurled the metal bird into the sky.
The impact of the aircraft hitting the ground triggered a sudden, violent eruption of fire. The air was ripped apart by a massive explosion.
The blastwave slammed into Eren, tossing him through the air like a ragdoll before he smashed hard into the terrain.
A metallic, cloying smell of salt and fresh blood filled his senses. Godzilla threw his head back, letting out a thunderous, triumphant roar that shook the very foundation of the now destroyed base. Everything was turning black before Eren fell into unconsciousness.
The next morning, Eren's eyelids fluttered open to the cool sensation of dew-damp grass on his cheek and the steady, rhythmic murmur of the ocean. He stared at the sky for a moment, drifting, before the sharp, lingering scent of charred metal and blood pierced his confusion.
Memory returned in violent flashes, forcing him to bolt upright. His muscles screamed in protest.
Scattered across the shoreline were the scorched remnants of his aircraft. The Zero's wreckage lay crumpled and still smoldering, a twisted husk of what it had been. Beyond it, the camp was nothing more than a graveyard of broken wood and ash.
Nearby, a low, monotone murmuring broke the silence. Eren saw Levi limping toward him, his face set in a grim mask of exhaustion. He was pulling a hammock, which carried a lifeless body toward a makeshift pile.
"You guys didn't deserve this," Levi said, his voice barely more than a hollow whisper of sorrow.
As the sun climbed higher, the reality of the devastation became stark. The wreckage of the base was surrounded by an array of carefully arranged remains. The soldiers were unrecognizable—smashed, or missing limbs, or staring with unblinking, wide-eyed terror.
A stillness had settled over them. Among the ranks, the identities of the lost were unmistakable. Levi placed the last body into the line, where Floch lay next to Erwin.
Levi's knuckles were white as he gripped the dirt, his face contorted in a mixture of burning rage and pure disgust.
"You! Everybody's dead!" Levi snarled, his voice shaking as he lunged forward to seize the collar of Eren's uniform.
"They're all dead! Because you didn't shoot!" he yelled, his face inches from Eren's, before shoving him violently toward the ground.
"Damn it!" Levi barked, then limped off away from the scene, clearly needing to be alone to suppress the tempest of emotions raging in his gut.
Left alone in the aftermath, Eren lay in the dust, the weight of Levi's words pressing harder than any impact from the disaster.
Eren couldn't help but sit down, depressed by the aftermath of the tragedy that had occurred last night.
Just a few days later, Japan surrendered unconditionally and the war was over.
December 1945
For six long months, Eren had lived like a ghost, existing on the fringes of the base to avoid Levi's caustic gaze. His life consisted of camping in the tall grass, wondering if he would simply waste away on this forgotten rock or if the world had truly moved on without them.
The arrival of the demobilization ship brought an unexpected, chaotic spark of hope. It was a massive, overcrowded vessel, straining under the weight of hundreds of soldiers. Because of the congestion, there were no bunkrooms for the dregs of the Odo Island unit. Instead, Eren, Levi, and the boxes containing their fallen friends were relegated to a cramped, exposed area on the windswept deck.
Eren leaned against the rail, the salty spray stinging his face, his heart fluttering at the thought: in a few days, they would be in Japan.
Just as the hope of reaching Japan began to settle, a familiar shadow crossed Eren's path. Levi appeared before him, his stance and eyes instantly shattering Eren's brief reprieve.
Eren braced himself, anticipating the usual verbal lashings, but instead, Levi held out several photographs wrapped in weather-proofed oiled paper. He shoved them toward Eren’s chest with a brusque, unceremonious thrust.
Without a single word, Levi turned and walked away, just as quickly as he'd arrived. He didn't spare a glance back, except to shoot one last, icy glare over his shoulder that felt colder than the sea wind.
Eren worked with trembling fingers to unwrap the oiled paper. When the contents were revealed, the air felt like it had been sucked from his lungs. The photographs left him speechless, unable to even gasp. His eyes scanned the small, frozen frames over and over, hoping the image would change, but it remained as solid as truth itself. Eren’s parent’s home was destroyed during the U.S. Bombings.
Unable to hold them a moment longer, he re-wrapped the photos carefully and tucked them deep inside his pocket.
The metal hull of the ship groaned against the waves, and the wind howled through the rigging. In the distance, Eren could hear the muffled, rhythmic shouts of the crew preparing for the next shift, but everything felt hollow and distant.