Tokyo Dreaming

I stepped out of the shower feeling like a new person - at least for two whole seconds before Little Shit blocked the door, his crossed eyes locked onto the kaiju costume lying in a heap on the floor.

"Really? Again with this? It's all sweaty and gross."

He let out a high-pitched whine, nudging the costume toward me with his snout.

"Fine," I sighed, grabbing it and dunking it in the sink. "But we're cleaning it first. I refuse to smell like day-old curry all night."

As I filled the sink with warm water and started scrubbing, Little Shit hovered anxiously nearby, like I was performing surgery on his child. Once I'd wrung out the excess water, I headed for our makeshift volcanic steps, Little Shit trailing behind. I draped the costume over the rocks, letting the night breeze do the rest.

While waiting for it to dry, I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications - mostly texts from people I'd never bothered saving to my contacts. My thumb hovered over Kurumi's name - my best friend - filling up half my notification bar with messages like:

--RYŪKA-CHAN ARE YOU OKAY???

--I saw you on the news!

--You're coming to school tomorrow right?

--Please tell me you're alive T_T

I scrolled past them all. Too exhausted to craft individual responses explaining that yes, I was fine, and no, does school even matter anymore? Kurumi meant well, but her worrying could be overwhelming sometimes.

Opening Chirper instead felt like exhaling after holding my breath. Here, I could just be another anonymous voice in the void.

The #KaijuGirl tag had exploded since this morning. Between photos of me with Little Shit and that viral video, my face was everywhere. But the responses weren't what I expected:

--@999Ping: World's ending? Finally! No more student loans! #KaijuGirl is my hero!

--@BubsSniffedMe: If we're all gonna die anyway, I just confessed to my crush. She said yes! Thanks #KaijuGirl!

--@SisterFister: World's ending and my mom's still asking when I'm getting married… Help me #KaijuGirl

I scrolled past dozens of similar posts - people skipping work, impromptu street parties, someone proposing in front of a rampaging kaiju.

Then a familiar username caught my eye - @TokyoDreaming14. Mika-senpai's latest post showed her lounging at some trendy café in Shibuya, peace sign held high. 

--Living my best life in Tokyo! Don't let anything hold you back from chasing your dreams!

My thumb jabbed the screen as I tapped into her profile. Photo after photo of her perfect Tokyo life assaulted my eyes. Here she was at Tokyo Tower, there at a cat café in Harajuku, now dancing at a rooftop bar in Roppongi.

Sure, there were containment zones visible in the backgrounds - massive doors stretching into the sky, military checkpoints, even the occasional kaiju in the distance. But Mika-senpai just used them as aesthetic backdrops for her poses.

Must be nice, being a Tokyo girl. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here washing a kaiju costume in my sink, living in a building with a missing wall.

I clicked off my phone with more force than necessary, the screen going dark on Mika's beaming face. The costume was probably dry enough anyway.

***

I stepped outside onto our makeshift volcanic balcony, running my hand over the kaiju costume. The volcanic heat had done its job - bone dry and even a bit toasty.

Little Shit bounced around my feet as I slipped into the costume, his eyes spinning with pure joy. The moment I zipped it up, he latched onto my right leg like a baby koala, purring contentedly.

Through the gaping hole in our apartment wall, the city sprawled out below us, dotted with lights. A containment zone wall loomed in the distance, its warning beacons pulsing red against the dark sky. Somewhere beyond that wall was the kaiju that had entrusted its child to me.

"Hey." I lifted up Little Shit from my leg, holding him at arm's length against the starlit sky. His stubby legs kicked playfully in the air. "I wish I could be like you, you know?"

His head tilted in confusion as I continued.

"Just… content enough that if everything ended tonight, I'd be okay with that. But I'm not. I want more than this. Is that selfish?"

Little Shit squeaked and reached for my face with his tiny claws. A warm feeling spread through my chest, completely at odds with the cool night breeze.

"Never mind. Forget I said anything." I set him down on the volcanic ledge.

Little Shit squeaked indignantly, but I was already heading to my room. My futon lay in the corner, miraculously untouched by the day's chaos. I flopped onto it. The familiar weight of Little Shit settled onto my back moments later, his warm body curling up between my shoulder blades.

My eyelids grew heavy as Little Shit's gentle squeaks turned into tiny snores. Maybe tomorrow would make more sense. Or maybe not. At this point, I was too tired to care either way.

***

A deep rumble jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open to Little Shit's claws batting at my face, his squeaks rising to panic levels. Another growl echoed through the room, like the sound of an empty stomach being broadcast through a megaphone.

"Cut it out," I mumbled, swatting his paws away. "Some of us need sleep to function."

Little Shit's squeaking intensified. The floor beneath my futon started to heat up. I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus in the darkness. Red-hot cracks spider-webbed across my tatami mats, volcanic vents pushing up through the floor like demonic mushrooms.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" I scrambled to my feet, scooping up the agitated kaiju.

I crept to the kitchen, wincing at every creaky floorboard. The last thing I needed was Gran Gran catching me at - I checked my phone - 12:15 AM. I flicked on the dim light above the stove and raided our fridge. Gran Gran's leftover curry? Little Shit wouldn't even look at it. I even tried tempting him with the last pudding cup I'd been saving.

"Come on, this stuff costs money," I whispered, waving a piece of grilled mackerel under his snout. He responded by making the floor rumble ominously.

"Picky little..." I stopped mid-grumble as realization hit. The only thing I'd ever seen him eat was melon bread. And we were completely out.

I meticulously put everything back exactly as I found it in the fridge, down to the angle of Gran Gran's curry container. One displaced item and she'd know I'd been raiding the fridge at night.

Little Shit's squeaking grew more insistent as I tiptoed back to my room. The volcanic cracks in my floor had mostly cooled, leaving behind dark scorch marks that would probably come out of my Tokyo savings.

"Shhhh," I whispered, lifting up my futon to retrieve the emergency stash I'd taped there earlier. The bills were still crisp - I'd hidden them while Gran Gran was lecturing another contractor about "highway robbery prices."

I counted out enough for melon bread plus a little extra, just in case Little Shit decided to throw another tantrum. My Tokyo savings were taking hit after hit lately, but better that than having my room turned into Mt. Fuji.

I cradled Little Shit against my chest, feeling his stomach rumble through the kaiju costume. The vibrations took me back to when Gran Gran's ancient washing machine went haywire and almost walked itself out the window.

"Alright. Let's get you some food."

I descended our makeshift volcanic staircase, each step glowing faintly red in the darkness. The streets below were a mess - trash everywhere, signs hanging crooked, and was that a car wedged into the third floor of the pachinko parlor? The street sweepers had clearly thrown in the towel.

The Law-Soon's familiar sign flickered ahead, half the letters burnt out so it just read "LA ON." The automatic doors slid open with their usual cheerful jingle, completely at odds with the chaos inside.

Shelves were tipped over, products scattered across the floor like somebody had played convenience store Jenga. Whatever. Not my problem. I made a beeline for the bread aisle, Little Shit squirming impatiently in my arms.

I rounded the corner and froze. Three figures in ski masks were locked in a tug-of-war with what looked like two raven-headed kaiju. Their red eyes glowed under the fluorescents, and their long, clawed arms stuck out from sleek black clothing that seemed to swallow the light.

The object of contention? A single loaf of melon bread.

Everyone froze as I appeared. Five heads - three human, two avian - slowly turned to stare at me.

"Ugh." I raised my hand in an awkward wave. "Don't suppose any of you would be willing to share?"