Spring Upon the Solstice

I - The Hero Deferred

{ Jhiro Fukiyama }

"—And that's why Pacific Rim is, and always will be, the best mecha-kaiju movie in existence," I finish explaining into my headset mic. "Thank you for coming to my TED talk."

"First off, a TED talk is about sharing useful information. And second of all, that genre's been dead for years," a male's voice replies back. He sounds disappointed, strangely enough. "As much as I respect your dedication, I really think that your time is better served on other franchises."

"Gundams or EVAs?" I shoot out quickly.

He fires back just as fast, "EVAs."

"Godzilla or Ghidorah?"

"Ghidorah, easily."

"Lagann or Geass?"

"Geass."

A grin breaks through my emotionless, glazed-over expression—you know the one, whenever you're staring at a computer screen for too long, or maybe clocking in overtime for an essay on three hours of sleep, or maybe when you've been entranced by whatever erotic images dance across the pixels. Like I said, you know the one.

"Got ya, Kyoji," I smirk, adjusting my glasses haughtily.

"Okay, so maybe I know a little bit about mecha and kaijus. And I'll admit, Anno's Godzilla was actually really good," he joins me in chuckling, taking defeat with grace. "But it's still a dead medium, and I think we both know it."

"Look, it's not my fault that I missed out on the glory era of mecha. I grew up with whatever remnants were left behind by our grandfathers—"

Something rustles behind me in the pitch-black darkness of my room, and I leap out of my chair, fists already curled. The headphones drop from my ears and land against the wooden surface of my desk with a loud crash. Fear tends to have a signature scent that's easy to distinguish from rest.

Regaining control of my body, I sweep my eyes through the shadows. First thing in my line of sight: the statue of Evangelion Unit 01 on the end of my desk, with its predatory, organic frame.

No, that isn't it; too soon for the Third Impact.

Next is the Gundam poster, with a colorful American flag palette splashed across the RX-78's signature armor. However, the room stands frozen in that instance of time, and I closed my windows, so there can't be a breeze.

Godzilla figurine? Nah. Can't be the Ghidorah standing next to him either, then.

The hell was that?

"You good?" Kyoji calls, muffled by the fabric padding over the headphone speakers.

After some deep breathing, I return to my seat, still nursing my heartbeat back into bed. From what I can tell, I knocked over some papers. However, that doesn't stop me from hallucinating a pair of eyes deep in the midnight pitch behind me.

"It's nothing," I bring the mic back to my mouth. "Just Big Brother spying on me again."

"Big Brother, huh? They're always up there, aren't they?"

"Well, it makes sense as to why they'd be called Big Brother, right?"

"I'm an only child, so I can't relate."

"I think the term came from an English novel during the onset of the Cold War. Some guy wrote it about Stalinist Russia." I choose my words as carefully as possible, so I don't set off the filters. When the military took over the Japanese Diet, it outlawed thousands of books, George Orwell's 1984 being among them. Ironically, that only popularized their nickname of 'Big Brother' more.