ONE
“… the KDF has sent out emergency alarms and evacuation orders to every device and household within a 100 mile radius. This is a wide range, and even though this Kaiju appears strangely small and might…”
You zone out from the rambling of the news commentary and squint at the screen, not quite believing what you are seeing.
“A baby Kaiju, it appears that grandfather was right after all.” Cara’s voice is accompanied with the light tinkling of a spoon against ceramic.
In technicolor Ultraman kneels in the street and beckons to the small, pink Kaiju, and strangely enough she stops her screeches and goes to him. What on earth?
“Weird,” Cara says over her teacup. “Are you recording?” She dumps her usual playful glance and saucer in a second. Her sharp sable eyes cut to a sagging bookshelf that occupies the whole right wall of the room.
“Of course.” You reply and zero in on the screen before you once more, one of the several on in the room. Different stations means different angles, for people in your line of work information is rare, you claw for it when you are opportuned.
“… the KDF has just issued another statement—”
You tap on the mute option on the holoscreen and groan. The KDF were ripping through kaijus like paper, at this rate decades of hard work was going up in flames. Without a Kaiju Kaiju Island will simply remain a myth. That is if your grandfather's theories are correct, the thought bleeds into your mind like thick, viscous ink.
“They have to be,” you mutter to yourself and rub your forehead. Now is not the time for doubt. You tap on another screen. Not that you expect anything better, the same old usual propaganda.
“Hey y/n. Check this out.”
You turn, not expecting what is in her hands.
“Professor Sato's letters to dad? How's this have anything to do with—”
“Read this,” she shoves the open binder into your hands, “it's was unopened, this letter. I guess dad didn't bother with it since it came after grandad passed away. Y'know how he gets with this stuff.”
You take the piece of paper into your hands, it is devoid of dust unlike the others in the stack. The ripped envelope underneath rustles as you pick it up.
Your eyes widen as you read it. “Are we too late? I mean this was,” you pick up the envelope and check the postal date, “five years ago.”
Cara shrugs. “I don't think so, I mean, with the way Ultraman is behaving it's safe to say we still have a chance.” She says pointedly, staring at a screen. Ultraman cradles the Kaiju tenderly amidst all the destruction and chaos. “And even if we don't, we won't know how to by moping around. We're running out of time.”
You take a deep breath to brace yourself for her next words, as the first child and the de facto heir of generations of Kaiju research, you know what next is coming. “There's only one way to find out y/n.”
2nd time reader 😼