Godzilla! That was what the villagers of Odo Island had screamed in terror before they died, and so that was what he had decided to call himself, “Godzilla”. This would be his name, the single word that would strike fear into the hearts of millions. The name that would be associated worldwide with the title “King of the Monsters”. And it would be that name, in big bold letters, that would print in the headlines of newspapers globally on August 3^rd, 2025.

But today was still August 2^nd, the day Godzilla first struck. The day Odo Island was wiped off the map.

Godzilla moved silently through the dark depths of the Pacific Ocean, propelling himself with his long, crocodile-like tail. His arms and legs stayed tucked in, and his fins laid down against his back, letting water run freely over them. He was a giant, scaly torpedo, heading straight for the tiny lump of land known as Odo Island.

The people on this island were fishermen, simple people who did not bother keeping up with modern technology or staying in touch with the mainland. They caught fish, then sold fish, then used the money they got from selling fish to feed their families. And that was all the contact with the mainland they every had in their entire lives. It was because of this that they were the perfect victim for Godzilla.

He had wandered through the sea for days, undetected. A few unlucky ships had had run-ins with him, but they had sunk quickly, quietly, and far away from shore. Their cries for help went unanswered, as would the cries of the island villagers.

Godzilla’s jagged, steel-gray fins broke the surface with a quiet splash. Sea foam lapped against the spiny protrusions as they glided by, reminiscent of shark fins. They rushed towards the shore, approaching the fishing vessels that had docked there for the night. Below the surface, Godzilla was slowing down. The water was getting shallow; he could feel his feet touching the sea floor.

Godzilla had come to this place looking for food. The scent of fish and human filled the water, luring him in. His stomach growled, scattering the few fish that were curiously gathering around the giant reptile. The jagged fins above the surface suddenly sank beneath the waves, disappearing just in time to avoid a docked ship. For a few moments, the night was silent. Nothing stirred in the water, or on the land, or in the sky. Even the sea gulls, who usually created a terrible ruckus at all hours of the day, were cautious to make sound.

Only one man dared to leave his house that night. He was the owner of a local fishing supply shack, and was out on his usual patrol rounds. He was tired, ancient, and feeble- almost every other night some juvenile delinquent would steal something from his shack, from right under his nose. But even he had noticed the dead quiet of this particular night. The silence was suddenly broken by a clap of thunder, and a cold rain began to fall. A drop splashed on the old mans nose, and he looked up to observe the storm clouds. But the sight that his eyes beheld was far more terrifying than any cloud could ever be.

A bolt of white-hot lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the figure that towered over Odo Island. It’s pale white eyes were totally devoid of pupils, and glared down at the old man mercilessly. When the strike disappeared, the pitch black of the night made the figure totally invisible. The old man trembled, griped with unbearable fear. He tried to scream, but no sound could come out.

Then, something began to illuminate the island again. It wasn’t lightning.

The sun rose on the morning of August 3^rd, though it was largely concealed by the enormous cloud of smoke in the sky. It was thick, black smoke, billowing from what had once been Odo Island. From the shore of the mainland, people could see the unusual flames consuming the ruined fishing village. Such strange flames. Such an odd shade of blue.

Six o’ clock AM. Tokyo, Japan. It was still fairly early in the morning, but people were already crowding the streets. Bicyclists moved amongst the crowd of daily commuters, and giant TV screens repeatedly displayed flashy advertisements. This was the norm at the Shibuya crossing: lots and lots of busy people, crammed together in the streets all the time. It was chaotic, to say the least, but today it would be much worse.

After laying waste to Odo Island, Godzilla had grown curious. The structures that had gotten in his way, the ones he had decimated, were unlike anything he had ever seen before. They were odd, and unnatural. He wondered what they were, and why the humans made them. The air around their territory was also strange. It was filled with many tantalizing scents he had never smelled before, but at the same time it was oddly toxic. It was alluring, but foreboding. He wondered why.

The streets of Shibuya shook, causing the commuters to shout and panic. They screamed at the top of their lungs, they were confused and terrified, totally unaware of what was actually going on. Most of them thought it was an earthquake. Maybe if they hadn’t been in such a panicked fluster, they would have noticed the pattern in the shaking. If they had, they surely would have realized that what they felt was no quake.

Godzilla approached the Shibuya crossing slowly and cautiously. The noise emanating from the mass of little mammals was as loud as it was annoying. Godzilla tried to ignore them, and looked around at the oddities around him. Everything had been changed here, built upon by the humans. Tall structures surrounded him, the ground was flat and pitch black. There were large screens of flashing colors that repeated themselves over and over again, all trying to get his attention at once. It was the strangest place he had ever seen.

Taking a step back from it all, Godzilla felt something small strike his foot. He peered down and snarled in surprise, seeing tiny metal objects rushing around at his feet, occasionally running into him. They were moving all over, faster than any creature he had ever seen before, but they were made of metal, totally inanimate. How could something not alive move? It seemed impossible to him. Godzilla took another step back, trying to get a better look at the strange metal things, when the jagged fins on his back hit a building. They pierced it’s concrete exterior and rained glass and giant hunks of debris on the metal-things at his feet, crushing some and forcing others to veer away.

Startled by the sudden impact, Godzilla spun around and swung one of his forepaws at the giant obstacle. His claws slammed into the structure; the force of the blow caused the top half of it to shatter and spew dust. He shoved his hand forward, through the entire building. It exploded in shards of rubble, crumbling into pieces that fell to the streets, destroying everything unlucky enough to be beneath them. Godzilla roared, swinging his claws rapidly at the crumbling building, tearing it apart, utterly obliterating it.

The screams intensified, they attacked Godzilla’s ears, ringing through his brain. He opened his jaws wide, his double rows of ivory colored fangs glistening in the sun, and bellowed furiously. The long, reverberating roar shook the city, it drowned out all other noise, it silenced the humans and made them reach for their ears in agony.

Godzilla closed his mouth and stood still, expectant. The humans had frozen with fear, not one of them dared to make so much as a peep. Godzilla exhaled calmly- for now, at least, they were quiet. He lowered his head, staring at the metal objects at his feet. He crouched down, pushing his face closer, watching curiously. They were so boxy and shiny, and held a certain symmetry that seemed almost too precise. They had no legs at all, and moved about on little rubber circles. They baffled Godzilla.

Lifting his head, Godzilla looked the whole place over again. It was so disturbingly unnatural. It was if the humans had taken this entire land and made it inorganic. It seemed wrong to him, twisted and evil. There were no rocks, no trees- he couldn’t even see the real ground! Everything was covered entirely by metals, and plastics, and concrete.

Godzilla turned his head and looked at one of the buildings beside him. It was covered with small, shiny squares of some kind. The building’s glimmering surface showed him his reflection. He turned his entire body around to face it, astonished by what he saw. The only thing he knew that could show him his own face was water, and yet, this structure was made of metal and concrete. It seemed impossible, just like everything else here.

Then Godzilla noticed something else in the reflection. Something in the air, flying towards him. He squinted, trying to make out the alien shape. Was it a bird of some kind? It certainly didn’t seem like one. As it flew closer, he began to hear the noise it made. It wasn’t a flapping sound, like the kind wings make. It was more like the buzzing of an insect…

Godzilla whirled around to meet the new creature, and not too surprisingly, it too was metal and lifeless. It was absurd and unimaginable in design, just like everything else he had seen… but this was clearly different from the others. This was hostile.

After investigating the burning ruins of Odo Island, the Japanese military had been swamped with wild reports of a giant reptile moving through Tokyo. Normally, they’d have laughed at such a silly claim- but when they found Odo Island flattened and set aflame, they decided to take action.

The flying machine, a helicopter armed with rocket launchers on both sides, hovered before Godzilla. The pilot was amazed by the sheer size of the creature staring back at him. But, amazing as it was, he knew his duty. Godzilla was a threat, a monster to be eradicated. And it was his job to coordinate the attack.

All around, more helicopters were gathering. They were surrounding Godzilla, their computer systems were locking on, their rockets were being armed. Below, in the streets, men in green suits were ushering the horrified people away, and tanks were rolling down the street, aiming as high as they possibly could.

Godzilla watched the helicopter intently. He could hear the other ones, buzzing around him like mosquitoes. He didn’t know what they were capable of, but he could sense that they were dangerous. A great dislike for these humans was already beginning to build inside him.

They had stripped away the land, turned it into a mechanical wasteland totally devoid of plants or animals. They had filled the air with loud noises and revolting odors. And now their flying machines were circling him like hungry vultures, ready to lash out at him. With such an obvious lack of respect for nature, Godzilla thought it made perfect sense that they would want nothing to do with him. He was alive, after all. They probably wanted to slaughter him and replace him with some damned machine, just like everything else, some noisy mountain of nonsensical artificial parts that would further spread their foul reach over the world.

Godzilla’s lips lifted in a hateful snarl as he glared at the things all around him. Everything was so fake, so foul, so corrupt. It went against every law of nature- it was all wrong, horribly wrong! Godzilla’s fins rose up like the spines of a cornered animal ready to fight. A deep, threatening hiss came from his throat, and he lowered his enormous skull.

The humans ignored Godzilla’s body language, his warning meant nothing to them. Rockets spewed forth from them, careening towards Godzilla from every direction, leaving trails of smoke and fire in the air. Godzilla screeched, and the lightning-fast projectiles hit his chest and back. They stabbed at his skin like needles, digging into him and violently exploding. Small pieces of his scaly hide blew away as the rockets pummeled him, detonating one after another in miniature infernos.

Godzilla resisted the blasts, lifting his head high above the smoke and roaring ferociously. He lunged forward, opening his jaws wide. His gigantic maw overtook the tiny machine, and as his mouth closed and his fangs interlocked, it was utterly annihilated. As he spat it’s remains out into the streets below, he noticed more human machines on the ground, aiming their terrible weapons at him.

Another volley of rockets hammered Godzilla, forcing his attention upon them. He staggered back, shaking the bits of red-hot metal from his skin. The spines on his back began to tingle, electric bolts of energy dancing along them. They began to glow light blue, and a similar colored light began to build in Godzilla’s mouth.

If the humans had anticipated what Godzilla was preparing to use against them, they’d have never tried such an assault. But it was too late now. Bright blue energy spewed from Godzilla’s mouth, a concentrated explosion of radioactive fire, suddenly unleashed. The scorching beam hit four of the flying machines, instantly eradicating them. Bits and pieces of the incinerated aircraft fell to the ground, crashing into the machines below them.

The ground-based machines reacted with a round of blasts that hit Godzilla in the stomach and chest. They had more force than the blasts from the aerial ones, but did not burn so badly. They blew off tiny bits of Godzilla’s hide, but could not penetrate it. Godzilla’s skin was far too thick and far too tough. Fins still ablaze, Godzilla turned his head to face his attackers and smited them with a blast of his deadly breath weapon. Massive chunks of the road blew away as the blast tore away at the floor of the human’s retched city. Godzilla intensified the beam, blasting harder, ripping away at the roots of their terrible lair.

His jaws shut, abruptly ending the onslaught of destructive energy. The human machines were gone, the only evidence of their existence were their shadows, which had been literally burnt into the ground. A crater lay where there had once been street, blue fire burning around it. His beam had dug down so far that scorched earth was no visible.

Godzilla jerked his head up, sensing danger, and beheld a wave of missiles soaring towards him. He ducked down, dorsal fins lying flat. The rockets flew over his back and collided with nearby buildings, detonating and tearing down entire skyscrapers. Godzilla roared and tensed the muscles in his legs. He shot forward, eyes full of rage, and ran towards the flying machines head-on.

He leaped into the air, claws outspread to attack. He slashed through two more of the flying machines, ripping them to bits on impact. He landed on his feet, shattering the pitiful layer of concrete beneath him. He lifted his tail upwards, batting one more of the machines and smashing it into oblivion. He hissed and turned about to face what remained: two more helicopters. Godzilla lifted his head high and let out a challenging bellow.

The artificial fighters held back, they fired no projectiles at Godzilla. They retreated, flying into the distance away from him. Godzilla stomped one of his feet, further mutilating the concrete road he stood on. He snorted loudly, glaring at the machines as they left, and let out an ear-splitting victory roar.

He knew that there would be more, and that it would not be long before they would show up to pester him again. Godzilla looked back at the sea, and then back again at the cityscape he so reviled. His spines began to glow with radioactive energy again and anchored himself to the ground by digging in his claws. He released a stream of nuclear breath at a lower intensity, not strong enough to blow away the monoliths he attacked, but hot enough to start a towering inferno. Blue flames swarmed building after building, consuming skyscrapers in their blazing fury. Godzilla watched the fire spread, watched in satisfaction as it cleansed the land of the human plight. He let out one more victorious roar before turning back to the sea and charging away.

Godzilla’s taloned feet sank into soft, sandy soil, and soon water. He dove into the sea with a tremendous splash that beached nearby ships. He swam hard and deep into the murky depths of the ocean, moving as far away from the humans as possible. How they disgusted him! Such tiny, insignificant creatures- how could they conquer the land in such a way? How could something so tiny and weak warp an entire region into a grotesque, artificial waste?

Closing his eyes and thinking as far back as he could, Godzilla tried to remember his past. It was so clouded, so suppressed by fear, that it was hard to bring up any of it at all. He pictured a tropical island, out in the middle of nowhere, far away from the humans. He saw others, like himself. He could remember their faces, but didn’t know what their relation to him had been. Were they his family? He was unsure.

The image of a giant cloud, shaped like a monumental mushroom, filled his skull. His eyes opened wide, and he quickly pushed the image away. He didn’t know what the cloud meant, but he felt chills down his spine whenever he thought about it. He knew it was important for some reason, but he couldn’t place why…

Godzilla kept swimming, leveling off after a while, turning, and swimming parallel to the coast. He stayed deep underwater, out of sight. He had seen more than enough of the humans today. He rose to the surface, snorted sea spray, and inhaled deeply. Having filled his giant lungs with air, Godzilla disappeared under the waves. He would hide on the sea floor, nestled among the rocks and coral, waiting it out. He’d probably rest there for the night, and venture onto land the next morning. He hoped that tomorrow he could find a spot further along the shore with less humans, and maybe come on land without being bombarded by missiles from every direction.