Another first chapter, for yet another tentative side story. This one is about Miki, and how she came to be bonded with the King of the Monsters. Think of it like a more serious combination of the wackier Godzilla movies during the second half of the sixties. Godzilla vs the Sea Monster, Son of Godzilla, etc.
Whenever she dreamed, and unfortunately that was all the time, she dreamed of sinking.
She had never even gone swimming before, and yet the sensation of the icy cold water enveloping her was too real to be her imagination, the pressure in her chest as she tried to hold her breath too frightening to dismiss. Every time, she was surrounded by inky blackness, with only a faint pale shimmering far above her giving any semblance of a surface. The same could not be said for the bottom- as far as she knew, there was no end to the depths beneath her.
Every time she finally lost the battle to stay awake, she sank. Every time she crawled into her bunk and closed her eyes, she would open them again and see those blank faces, staring at her through the shimmering surface.
And every time she let sleep take her into the cold water, the pressure in her lungs would become too great, and she'd open her mouth to breathe-
"Miki?"
Miki's eyes darted open and she bolted upright in her seat, sending her pencil clattering to the floor. Mrs. Shimura was looking at her tiredly, but Miki knew that she was also more than a little fearful. Around her, she could sense that same fear in her classmates, mixed with a few sprinkles of revulsion, pity, or even anger. In her lingering grogginess, it was enough to make her lip tremble slightly.
Then casually, she leaned back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. Mrs. Shimura looked ready to reprimand her, then clenched her jaw shut. She took a breath to calm herself - not very effectively, if what Miki sensed meant anything - then sighed.
"Miki, if you were listening, then you should be able-"
"If you were going to ask me the question about the Christmas War Treaty of 1957, the answer is that each signatory nation limited themselves to fifty hydrogen bombs." She raised one hand and rested her fingers against her temple. "And for my next trick, I'm going to guess that your card is the Ace of Hearts."
Mrs. Shimura hesitated for a moment, then straightened. "Yes, the answer is fifty warheads each. But I'll remind you, Student Saegusa, that getting the answer right is not the only thing school is about. I'm docking another five points off your behavior score."
"While you're at it, you should probably take ten off Yoko's score," came the lazy drawl. "She's been making out with Akihiko in the girls' bathroom while Tobao is running on the track."
A few things happened simultaneously at that, not least of which was Yoko's scream of "You
bitch!" A few gasps, a few annoyed groans, and a very cross Shimura slapping her hand on the nearest desk.
"
Student Saegusa," the middle-aged teacher said, her voice a hiss, "you are dismissed from class. Go straight to the principal's office, and stay there until the specialist arrives. Student Ito, half an hour extra sweeping duty for that outburst."
Miki sat there for a moment, then slowly stood up and slung her bookbag over her shoulder. Dragging her feet, she started making her way out of the classroom. She didn't even need to brush against Yoko's mind to sense the hate and disgust coming from the girl as she walked by. As she reached the door, close to Tobao's seat, she stopped to look at the lanky boy. His ice-blue eyes were wide as he looked at her, and she sighed.
"Sorry you had to find out that way. But us freaks should be looking out for each other, right?"
He shrank back into his seat. She shook her head, then finally left the classroom.
==/*\==
Sinking, drowning...
Her eyes snapped open, and she realized she'd dozed off again, this time in the chair outside the principal's office. Arching her back, she glanced around, taking stock of the hallway. After all, it'd probably be the last time she was here, and then it'd be off to another school, so she could terrify
its teachers, and get kicked out of that one, and so on.
Seventh time's the charm? She let out a dry, humorless laugh at that.
As her eyes focused, they fell upon the bulletin board they let students use for their clubs and the like. There was the usual invitations for go club and Human-Space Alliance, but what drew her attention was a small illustration someone had made on scrap paper. An all-too-familiar monster, recognizable even through the distortion of amateur drawing skills.
Hero of the World, it said underneath.
Miki stared for a moment, then got up and walked over to the board. Gently taking the paper down, she looked at the drawing, running a thumb over the words written at the bottom.
Then she calmly ripped it in half, and threw it in the nearby recycling bin.
She was plopping back down in her seat when she felt two presences coming around the hallway. Straining her ears, she fell silent as she listened.
"-and for how long has she displayed this behavior?" a man's voice asked.
"The school board records say she's been a bit of a troublemaker since, well, after Zero Day," came Mrs Shimura's reply. "But this specific behavior? It's been in the last year or so."
"Mmm. How accurate would you say her 'guesses' are?"
"Too accurate. Just today, she managed to guess the answer to a question I hadn't even asked, right after waking up."
"Is it always after waking up?"
"I wouldn't say so. But she does have narcolepsy. Is that important?"
"It very well might be."
The two finally appeared around the corner, and Miki looked their way. The man accompanying Mrs. Shimura was tall and surprisingly well-built, with a tanned complexion. His left eye seemed oddly glossy, and she realized it was made of glass. She decided to skim along his mind, and noticed that he was a surprisingly well-guarded man. Nothing she couldn't crack, she supposed, but she didn't feel like making another scene.
"Miki," Mrs. Shimura said, "this is the specialist here to see you today."
"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Saegusa." The specialist extended a calloused hand. "You can call me Dr. Hirata."
Miki looked at his hand, then back to his face. "You look like Dr. Serizawa."
Dr. Hirata smiled lightly. "I do get that sometimes. Are you studying him in class?"
"No." Miki shrugged. "But he killed Godzilla."
To her surprise, the response from him was a short laugh. "A personal idol, then."
She smirked slightly.
"Miki," Mrs. Shimura interrupted, "Dr. Hirata is here to talk to you about your... well..."
"I'll take it from here." Dr. Hirata knelt down, looking her at eye level. "Ms Saegusa, I work for a government department that researches extrasensory perception in those borne from marriages between people from Earth and those from Mars and Planet X. That's a fancy term for psychic powers. Knowing events before they happen, sensing the feelings of others, even when they're not in the room, and even reading minds."
Miki shifted in her seat. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"
"Something tells me you already know that answer." Dr. Hirata looked over his shoulder at Mrs. Shimura, then to her. "The school has given me permission to do some tests. Would you agree to them?"
She averted her eyes and looked away, hugging herself.
"You'll get a sweet bun if you do it," the specialist added, sing-song.
A sigh. "Fine."
==/*\==
Miki stared at the opaque plastic divider that had been laid across the table, then looked up at Dr. Hirata, who had taken the seat across from her. He simply smiled as he neatly placed down his briefcase and opened it.
"It's to make sure you can't see what I'm doing," he said. "Wouldn't be much of a test otherwise."
There was a rustling of paper as he rummaged about, then he handed her a sheet, along with a pencil. Taking it, she saw that he was producing his own. He carefully slid his briefcase to the side, and set the paper and pencil down.
"This is one of the simpler tests," he said. "I'm going to draw something, and I want to see how accurately you can copy it without seeing. I'm, er, not the best at illustrations, but I hope you won't mind."
With that, he began hastily sketching something down. Miki closed her eyes, and saw through his as he began to draw a duck. At least, it
might have been a duck, but the man was telling the truth about his abilities. Fumbling for the pencil, she began to copy him, eyes closed still as her hand subconsciously matched with his.
A minute or so later, she let the pencil clatter from her hand, and she opened her eyes as she flaunted the paper at him. Surprise radiated from Dr. Hirata like heat from a coal as he looked at her drawing, then back down to his.
"You even copied the smudge I made with the eraser," he murmured. A moment passed as he tapped his chin with the pencil, then he set it down. "Let's move on to the next test."
Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out three playing cards, raising them above the divider so Miki could see them. Jack of Hearts, Eight of Clubs, Deuce of Hearts. Then he placed them on the desk, and Miki could hear the whisper of paper against the desk as he slid them about. Stopping, he straightened and looked back at her.
"I want you to try and guess which one I'm pointing at," he said.
Miki sighed. "You're not actually pointing at any of them, 'cause your hand is closed. By the way, the middle's the Jack, the left one is the Deuce, and Eight's one the right."
The specialist's eyes widened, and a smile broke out across his face. "Well done, Miss Saegusa. I think I can actually skip the next few tests and go right to the last one."
He promptly brought down the divider and leaned forward, staring her intently in the eyes. Miki shrank bank, surprised by the hardness in the man's stare.
"What am I thinking of right now?"
Straightening, Miki stared back. Her brow furrowed for a moment, then she smiled.
"You're thinking of a dog with a red collar, juggling three blue balls while riding a unicycle."
Dr. Hirata leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. Shaking his head slightly, he let out a small laugh.
"Miss Saegusa, even through these preliminary tests I can tell that you're leagues beyond all the others we've tested. Most of them can only roughly capture the pencil strokes, or know that I'm thinking of the color red. But you..."
"There are others?" Miki asked, suddenly feeling like she'd been hit in the gut.
Dr. Hirata nodded. "You are not alone, Miss Saegusa. And I hope that you'll get to meet them soon. If your teachers agree, we might transfer you to our research institute, so you can cultivate these talents with others of your kind."
Collecting his things, he paused to hand a small plastic package over. Taking it, Miki saw it was a red bean sweet bun, and she promptly unwrapped it. By the time Dr. Hirata had all of his things in order, she had already devoured the treat and tossed the wrapper in the trash. Leaning back contentedly, she watched as the specialist stood up and made for the door.
Dr. Hirata looked back, a wry smile on his face. "I hope we'll meet again soon enough."
He walked out the door, and Miki sighed. Lazily rising out of her seat, she grabbed her book bag and slung it over her shoulder. It was going to be an hour's walk back home, and she preferred to do it before it got dark.
==/*\==
It had only been three years, and yet sometimes it was easy to pretend that the most destructive conflict in history had never happened. Even here, on the outskirts of the final stage of that maddening day of death, life had achieved its normal boredom. A few patches of tarmac that looked suspiciously like giant footprints, a few solemn epitaphs on doors, a handful of condemned buildings... the wounds of Zero Day had already sealed over.
Of course, wounds that sealed too quickly had a tendency to fester, and Miki felt like such an abscess.
She looked at the smiling faces of those out enjoying the warm weather as she walked down the street, and clenched her fists. Fucking two-faces, all of them. She could taste it coming off of them without even trying, just picking up the faintest outside thoughts and feelings as she passed them by. She knew that the businessman who always sat on the bench near the izakaya was secretly sleeping with his secretary, and that the owner of the nearby drugstore had once gotten away with beating a Xilien refugee. Secrets, infidelities, crimes, all available for her to see past their masks.
Why did such horrible people get to be happy after Zero Day?
Breathing in through her nose, she pulled her headphones out of her bookbag and snapped them over her ears. The snug fit of the fake leather against her ears was soothing, and she closed her eyes for a few moments as acid rock drowned out the sounds of the outside world.
That lull was quickly broken, as a hand shoved against her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she saw Yoko glaring at her, flanked on each side by her friends. She couldn't be bothered to remember their names, but a quick brush against their minds provided them.
Tiredly taking off her headphones, she offered a bored expression at Yoko. "You trying to sell me something?"
"Tobao just broke up with me," the older girl said, a slight twitch in her left eye. "All because you used your freaky Skinny powers on me and
humiliated me in front of the entire class."
"Should've done it sooner, if you're just gonna throw that word around. Or is Tobao somehow less of a Mysterian than me? Last I checked, I'm only half."
"At least he acts normal," came the low reply, followed by another shove. "You just sleep all day and sulk with those headphones of yours, being a
freak."
"Freak," Mina repeated. "You even smell like you're from outer space."
"I bet even Godzilla smells better than you," Himiko added.
Miki straightened, clenching her fists. Yoko noticed, and smirked.
"Oh, did that get to you, freak? Every time you
do open your mouth, it's to complain about him. Godzilla this, Godzilla that, Godzilla is the
worst thing ever. Maybe you wanted the aliens to take over, huh?"
"You don't know what you're talking about," Miki said, throat tight.
"Oh, I think I do." Yoko took a step forward, puffing her lips in a pout. "Are you just upset because your mommy and daddy got smooshed like the freaks-"
The older girl stopped suddenly, blinking rapidly as she drew in a shuddering breath. Stepping back, she placed a hand to her chest, hot tears running down her cheeks. She opened her mouth, probably to try and speak, but a half-choked sob came out.
"Yoko?" Mina asked, rapidly stepping away. "Yoko, what's wrong?"
"What did you
do?" Himiko demanded.
Miki didn't reply, instead focusing on projecting the painful memories onto Yoko's psyche. She took a step forward, and the older girl retreated, falling back on her butt as she tried to fight the tears. Kneeling down, Miki looked her in the eyes, her face a blank map.
"Don't you ever mention my parents again," she said, a snarl breaking free. "And don't mention that thing again. I hate it. Do you hear me? I hate it. I hope it dies, and I hope you die, too."
"Miki," Mina pleaded, still stepping away. "Stop it! You're hurting her!"
"Help!" Himiko screamed. "She's hurting my friend!"
That was enough to snap her out of it. Like the tide, the painful memories receded back into her core. Miki blinked, a sudden chill washing over her as she looked Yoko. The girl was holding her legs to her chest, sobbing hysterically.
The chill got worse, and Miki felt it get harder to breathe. She looked about wildly, and saw that the passerby had begun to stare at her, one even reaching into his pocket for a bulky portable phone. Their feelings washed over her, and she found herself unable to hold back the flood of confusion, revulsion, and fear that billowed from them like hot ash.
She ran.
No one moved to stop her as she bolted down the sidewalk, her shoes clacking against the pavement. Turning down an alleyway, she dashed across the train tracks and into the tall grass that extended towards the mountains. She tripped, the earth leaving small cuts in her cheek as she fell, then she scrambled back up and continued running.
She ran, and ran, letting her memories guide her. Even as her lungs burned, she ran past the abandoned homes near the Road, and losing a shoe didn't stop her from jogging past the abandoned police barriers and occasional ruined tank. The sun began to set over the mountains, casting it all in a warm orange light as she limped across faded footprints and still-blackened patches of earth.
By the time she arrived, she was practically crawling, gasping like a fish as she trudged to the Road. Even through the pain and fatigue, she still found the strength to shake her head at the name. The Road of the Gods? The Road to Hell was a better name.
Sure enough, it was there. A furrow wide enough to fit an ocean liner, filled halfway with water from the rains, edges made of now-cooled molten rock that shone like glass. Looking one way, she saw it disappear over the horizon, and when she looked the other way she could follow the Road all the way up to what had once been called Mount Fuji.
Creeping towards the edge, she sat down, hugging her legs to her chest as she stared into the tranquil smooth water below. There was something mesmerizing about the glittering sides of the Road, made from what a teacher had called Alamogordo glass. Atomic glass. Melted and cooled in instants, as a horrible golden monster from beyond the stars was pushed along the ground by a burning force like that of the hydrogen bomb.
People said that you could see shadows of the old ground in the glass, what had been there before the Road's birth. The rocks, the trees, the homes.
She had been here more times than she could count. And yet, she could never see her parents in the glass.
A sob wracked her, and she sniffed, rubbing at her nose. She recalled the reactions of the passerby, recalled Yoko's own sobbing, and she closed her eyes.
"I'm a monster, just like you," she whispered. "Is that what you wanted? Is that why you took them from me?"
Another sob escaped her, and she rocked gently, trying to force everything out of her mind. The wind rustled her hair, and she focused on it, as if hoping for it to carry her pain away.
She didn't know how long she was there before she heard a twig snap behind her. Whipping her head around, she blinked a few times, as if to dispel the image before her.
"Dr. Hirata?"
The specialist was standing a handful of paces away, clutching something small in his hand. This time, however, there was no warmth exuding from him. Where there'd been a glass eye, he now had a black patch, and he frowned as he took another step closer.
She stood up, and that was when he raised the object in his hand and squeezed the trigger.
Pain lanced up her shoulder as the dart sank in, only to be replaced by numbness. Miki opened her mouth to scream, but there was only a slur as she stumbled forward. Clutching at the grass, she tried to get back up, only to feel the strength leave her. Falling forward, she merely stared into the grass, vision unfocused.
The last thing she heard before slipping into unconsciousness, was Hirata's footsteps as he approached.
