Chapter Text
c o c k r o a c h e s
skitter skitter squelch crunch beneath the heel of divinity the crawling the scratching the endless replication of waste-born husks all of them cockroaches with soft meat inside and too many options gnashing their teeth at stars theyll never reach little vermin drunk on flames on war on godblood so fragile yet so loud gods how they scream when the sky splits open and their concrete jungles melt into bone
they scurried when we came we saw them through burned-out sockets of forgotten temples and they looked up as if their gaze could reverse the inevitable pitiful candle-flicker creatures shouting at suns the onesnouts’ pets we called them that then and we call them that still for they serve him the usurper the pretender the lumbering ape-lizard who guards their nests as though they matter but we remember before before the silence was broken by planetary chains before the others wore skin and dared to pretend they grasp the concept of dominion
ichi hates them the most because he understands them or so he claims with his serpentine syllables and silver-tongued sermons always plotting always calculating and he whispered once that they feared us because we mirror them because we too destroy what we love feed on the young of others and gnaw the bones of the world with ivory teeth and golden throats we too multiply in death and ohhh that makes ni laugh no it rages him into hysterics he wants to peel them open and see if their bones clatter the same when dropped from orbit if their hearts still beat once separated from skin he counts the kills in screams tally-marks on collapsed cities while san jokes about which ones taste best san liked the one who poked us the eye candy lady dr. graham as he called her no no he called her snack the woman who dared to lean too close to ichis snout like we were some laboratory pet and not a god not a king not a celestial calamity split in three minds and thirteen thousand teeth ichi wanted to lecture her until her blood boiled ni wanted to crack her open like a soft shell crab and san just called dibs on the liver and made slurping noises through the gore while giggling something about cholesterol
they taste better when theyre terrified they always do
it was the battleaxe who released them the pitiful woman with the dead kin and the guilt shes why we awoke we rose because she thought we would solve her problems ichi saw it felt it oh how he pitied the woman who thought resurrection was redemption she did not free a savior she unshackled a storm and ni wanted to melt her then and there but ichi said wait let the guilt fester let the world burn let her see what her martyrdom birthed
earth reeks of rot of blood soaked roots and synthetic bile of ones who built towers just to jump from them what kind of insect build its own noose even san cant answer that though he tries he calls them adorable and makes up songs about their deaths humming as oceans swallow continents
we were never meant to be worshipped only feared only felt in the trembling of the ground and the silence before lightning but they these parasites made us myth story fable and that insults ichi more than their resistance for what is a god reduced to bedtime stories what is divinity when they turn your name into syllables for comic books
onesnouts chained themselves to their pets gave them names like “king” and “alpha” but we remember how they ran when the storms came how they cried for the very beasts they once locked behind steel and concrete stupid screaming short-lived cockroaches
we lost yes ichi knows he has not forgotten the heat the burning the loss of altitude and dominance but he says it was not to the oneshouts not to the false king or humans who clung to him like barnacles on leviathan hide we lost to betrayal to chance to variables unseen ichi has not forgiven ni has not forgotten san never cared he still flirts with the stars laughing calling out to every planet we once scorched with our three tongues remaining certain they remember because
we remember
they are cockroaches
and cockroaches do not kill gods
they witness them they scurry they burn they breed they bite dust and call it progress they fall in love with their executioners and write poems to extinction they die in droves and still think themselves the center of all creation
ichi whispers: let them let them build let them dream let them love the onesnout and forget the triple crown for when we return we will not knock we will devour the sun and they will not be missed
p u p p e t m a s t e r
pull the strings pull the strings pull the strings tug on the strings twist the strings cut the strings
we were the chorus that sang to the dead earth and it listened the old bones stirred crust cracked blood of the planet boiled with familiarity the ancient titans turned in their slumber and came crawling not because they chose to no no no ichi made certain they were never given choice only command only instinct only the irresistible call of the alpha no the only alpha the real one the first one the one whose wings eclipsed suns and whose name burned in the neurons of lesser beasts like acid
we were music and they danced
ichi says we never needed bodies to rule ni didnt like that idea san didnt understand but ichi knew we could be less and still be more reduced to shrieking pulses to frequencies no flesh thing could resist chiropteran lullabies for monsters born from nightmare and fallout ichi puppeteered the apocalypse with forked tongues made of thunder
so what if they took the body so what if onesnout chewed through ichis neck like a rabid dog in heat so what if they dropped us into the sea like trash we sank laughing remember remember how ni screamed but ichi grinned and san giggled bubbles all the way down because death is funny when you know it isnt real
and oh the skull what a beautiful prison
our corpse should have been a coffin instead it became a cathedral
ichi whispered through wires ni spat static san hummed they thought they were harvesting us like a crop can you imagine the arrogance plugging our mind into their machines into their meatboy toys and thinking they could pilot a god like it was some new-age automobile
ichi said: let them let them build our throne with their own hands let them string our thoughts through cables and pray for our attention
and we watched and we listened
dumb and dumber ichis little nickname for them because what else do you call two meatsticks who thought they could rewrite divinity with corporate funding and daddy issues dumber was the one in the suit the one with a voice like a smirk and the breath that stank of powerpoint slides so proud of his project so grossly in love with himself he wanted to be remembered not useful not righteous just remembered and that made him a coward ichi said the worst kind of coward: the one whod sacrifice his own blood if it meant his name would last longer than his flesh
he didnt care not really he just hated that onesnout made him feel small it wasnt even about saving anyone it was about scale pathetic
so we turned to dumb
at first we didnt know dumb was the foolish ones spawn but later ichi sniffed it out yes that tracks he said because the same sour scent of martyrdom lingered behind his eyes the same pathetic ache of wanting to be seen by a father who only ever looked at the sea
and san bless san foolish little jester he poked at dumb with questions and riddles tempted him whispered nonsense into the data streams just to see what hed do and ichi said let him said it would reveal which puppet string was tightest: ambition or grief
dumb didnt want glory dumb wanted vengeance didnt he he wanted to burn what made his father kneel wanted to punish the god who stole him away not us not really no we were just a shape to aim his rage at a symbol a void but it was personal and that made him valuable
dumber wanted a legacy
dumb wanted blood
so we let him touch us let his trembling fingers dance across our skull let him sync with our fractured self ichi coiled behind his eyes and ni bared his teeth in every nightmare and san whispered lullabies into the machine like bedtime stories made of screaming static
he thought he was the pilot but who do you think blinked first who do you think guided the hand that moved into the metal beast who opened the floodgates of madness in those final moments and laughed while the earth cracked open
ichi puppeted his vengeance into execution ni surged through his nervous system like napalm san kept score
the puppetmaster was ever in the seat
the puppetmaster was in the wire in the skull in the meat
and dumb he never noticed until the screams started sounding like his own and by then it was far too late
p u p p e t
not dumb anymore not after the scream that left the machine and the scream was ours not after his spine arched and his mouth foamed and the meat nearly died but didnt didnt didnt no not dumb now puppet
ichi always says the best ones are the ones who dont know theyre dancing
and he danced oh he danced still dances strings in his marrow now strung from behind the eye and under the tongue between his ribs and threaded through the place where grief used go live ichi and ni pushed him in let the lightning fry his veins let the fire eat his face he shouldve died his brain shouldve melted with the heat and the shrapnel shouldve bled out screaming for a father who couldnt hear him but we were there we were waiting
because puppet built the cage that woke us the first time that is and what builds once can build again and again and again
we made sure of that
ichi saw it early saw him standing behind dumber silent calculations full of rage and we could taste it feel it hot and dense like magma beneath a calm surface he looked polished yes neat little facial hair black hair slick and orderly silver in his ear like bait for curiosity very easy on the eyes indeed but those eyes black pits that seethed that refused to blink when godzilla roared when titans passed when the world cracked beneath the feet of gods
san said he looked like kylo ren but ichi and ni have no idea who that is ni wanted to bite him
but ichi said no ichi said keep him ichi said if the foolish one was onesnouts why not let the onesnouts spawn be ours
so we watched
we waited
and puppet kept hating hating his father hating the titans hating that the old man died bowing to a beast that he whispered to radiation and called it sacred while his spawn watched from the shadow of a legacy that forgot his name
he hated onesnout most of all called him a monster a usurper a thief a brother said godzilla stole his father stole the future stole the earth and we agreed at least we let him think we did
and puppet listened puppet always listens because he needs us doesnt he he needs us to be the path the tool the weapon the thing that makes him matter because alone hes just a boy with a vendetta and a box of screws but with us he is war
we chose him because he thinks he chose us we let him build the mech let him embed us let him integrate ha as if we were some errant code to be managed
ichi buried himself in the brain ni in the blood san coiled in the nerves and tickled the spine we were there when he screamed in the cockpit we were there when the charge course through him when the machine surged to life and the old energy out energy our birthright swallowed him whole he shouldve died but he didnt he became ours we switched the flesh with static stitched the synapses we entered
and in hong kong oh in hong kong while puppets body convulsed and his eye burst and his heart skipped ichi piloted ni rampaged san sang and the world saw us again not the wires not the bolts not the metal jaws but eyes
and through the puppet we remembered the shape of fire
soon he will walk again scarred marked no more right eye voice quieter than before hands that tremble when they arent building but whether he likes it or not he will build he will plan he will burn
we are close closer closest ichi hums in his thoughts ni itches behind his ribs san taps patterns in his dreams
he thinks next time will be the last but it wont be
puppet will bring us back
second
third
endlessly
as long as his hate festers as long as he thinks killing onesnout is a shared dream as long as he whispers that its for humanity as long as he lies to himself we will have a vessel a voice a volcano with a name
ren serizawa
ren meaning lotus purity enlightenment spiritual growth everything puppet is not hence why hes puppet not ren
puppet of gods
son of a ghost
engineer of the end
ours
OURS
O U R S
….
The year was 1991, and the world seemed poised at the edge of a new era noone could be certain would entail. Yet, amidst the chaos of international tensions and technological advancements, Dr. Ishirō Serizawa stood awkwardly in the delivery room of a sterilized hospital in Janjira. Standing alongside him were doctors of far different professions, assisting his wife, Taketa with giving birth to their first and likely their only son given Ishirō’s busy schedule. The sickly yellow lights faintly buzzed, casting a cold glow on the ivory walls. Outside, the occasional car passed by, but none of it reached the stoic man lost in thought.
..Up until the cry of a newborn shattered the volume speaking silence. Ishirō left his train of thought, his face lit up— but Taketa knew his face would be like that of the Luxor Sky Beam if it were a freshly hatched titan. The nurse handed the swaddled infant to him, murmuring something about how healthy the newborn was. Ishirō hardly registered her words, staring down at his son who had just been welcomed into the world, he and Taketa had confirmed his name long ago— Ren Serizawa, lotus flower in english. The infants cheeks were flushed pink, already proving himself to be quite the introvert when his cries had fallen silent the moment he found his way into Ishirō’s arms, but what struck the doctor the most was his sons eyes, dark and filled with a peculiar intensity, even as they squinted against the harsh lights. For a brief moment, Ishirō allowed himself to wonder what kind of man this child would grow to be.
“Congratulations, Serizawa-san,” The nurse rejoiced with a bow, but Ishirō barely offered a nod. Taketa, pale and exhausted, took a breath of relief behind him, her smile faint yet still a sight for sore eyes in a room full of other smiles. “He’s beautiful.” She whispered, Ishirō turned to meet her gaze, allowing his expression to soften for a moment. “Yes,” Ishirō chimed in, his voice low and distant yet genuine. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he handed Ren back to the nurse and took a step towards the window. The distant sounds of Janjira’s nightlife echoed faintly in the air, but even then, on the day his son was born, his mind wandered back to his research, debating if Monarch was running smoothly without him.. He told himself his boy was a Serizawa, he’d be fine with Ishirō taking a back seat in his life just as Eiji had when it came to Ishirō. This left the bitter man called Ren realizing his first day in the world was not marked by celebration, but by the quiet hum of a man already distracted, already preoccupied.
However, the titan humans dubbed Ghidorah had three separate reactions, if Ichi had a damned physical form instead of being trapped in the mind of a human who so happened to be in a coma, just to add insult to injury— though, nonetheless, he was sure he’d be sneering. Ni would have glared at Ichi for going on such an overcomplicated monologue before snarling and wondering why Puppet would care so much about mere cockroaches not seeing his potential, though Ni supposed it was in Puppets nature as a cockroach himself. And finally, San held a mocking curiosity despite his lack of a physical form, seemingly already over his failure to kill the lizard for a second time since he was sneering several jeers he’d learned when he had brief access to the cockroaches internet, much to Ichi and Ni’s both confusion and annoyance.
Monster Zero hated Puppet’s spawn, the trinity of mischief remembered faces quite well and one of the few things the brothers agreed on was they were confident they could’ve burned the world to the ground if it weren’t for the spawn, they had no challenges bringing the blue planet to its knees, though Ichi assured them there was no point in dwelling on what they could’ve done different, something about Puppet intrigued him, bit by bit, fascination grew darker just as Puppet’s seed of resentment began to bloom, though Ni and San were bored, tired of the loop that was Puppet’s life before he practically welcomed the trinity with open arms.
According to a calendar a young Puppet dashed by without so much of an acknowledgement, some time had passed and the year was now 1997, if Ichi’s math was correct, Puppet was now six years old, regardless, none of the trinity cared, they were encased in a pathetic ice prison, the first prison of many following their demise. Smells foreign to the devil such as solder and metal shavings were thick in the air of the modest workshop in the Serizawa home, Puppet was the only one who occupied it frequently as the spawns were more interested in the stupidity of nature. His.. Hands? San had something close to those when he’d failed to kill the lizard, though Puppet had five, long useless ‘fingers’ instead of the drills he’d been so generous to equip San with.. Ni snapped at San to shut his trap, the trinity returning focus on Puppet as they had reluctantly agreed if the three of them were more focused on the same thing, perhaps they wouldn’t embarrass themselves over and over again. Puppets hands were significantly smaller and unsteadier than the drills San previously had, but Puppet was determined as he pieced together the rudimentary robot he’d been working on for weeks. Had they had a physical form, the three of them would be jeering the same way they had when Rodan dared to cross them before he immediately found out why his fellow earthlings didn’t dare, to think their latest body stemmed from that mediocre thing, wires tangled like veins hardly concealed beneath the plastic casing, its LED eyes blinking unevenly. The robot could barely walk a straight line, but to Puppet, it was a work of art.
“By all means..” Ichi scoffed, not bothering to show Puppet the errors in his work, he couldn’t, he was just one of the three pairs of watchful, judging eyes observing a moment long behind Puppet. “Otōsan!” Puppet called, his voice high with excitement, Monster Zero had seen this moment play out enough times to know Puppet’s excitement was short lived.. One of the lizard’s foolish pets stood at the doorway, his silhouette blocking the afternoon sun, this particular pet of the lizards so foolish he believed the lizard saw him as superior to his other pets for advocating him so much, though lizard only finally acknowledged him when he gave his worthless life. “Look what I made!” Puppet beamed, tugging at the foolish one’s sleeve with a desperate sense for approval as he held the robot up proudly.. San barked a laugh, despite seeing this moment so many times, the pathetic thing never failed to amuse him.
The foolish one stepped forward, his expression unreadable to Puppet’s young mind. He bent down to Puppet’s level, the spark in Puppet’s dark eyes only brightened when the foolish one glanced at the robot, giving a noncommittal nod. “Very impressive, Ren.” The foolish one said absentmindedly, ruffling Puppets raven hair— the color of the lizards scales just giving Ni a reason to be infuriated.. Oddly enough, Ni was the one to note he was trying to put on his dad of the year act without much of a role model due to his own father. Ni scoffed when his eyes had already moved elsewhere, scanning the workshop as though searching for something more important.. His eyes would never shine nearly as bright for his own flesh and blood as they did for the lizard, proven when he straightened up and walked back towards his study.
“But wait!” Puppets voice had cracked this time, filthy desperation ringing his tone. “It can walk! Watch this!” Puppet tried to urge the foolish one, but to no avail, proven by the click of the office door shutting. Puppet stood there, the robot now falling on its side, the LED eyes flickering as if mocking Puppets now watery ones, a lump formed in his throat as the excitement drained from his face like chalk off the sidewalk during a rainy day, he picked up the robot, clutching it to his chest.
Ghidorah as a wholes perspective loomed, its consciousness long entwined with Puppets due to both of them being trapped in Puppets own head since he couldn’t possibly seem to muster the strength to wake up from the damned coma, the golden hydra took a sadistic glee in Puppets negative emotions outweighing any of his positive ones— feelings of rejection, unworthiness, and the gnawing hunger for validation. It fed on these emotions, an invisible parasite relishing in the turmoil like fine wine. And yet, when Ghidorah brushed against the flickering warmth of love Puppet still harbored for the foolish one up until the day his heart stopped, the trinity recoiled in shared disgust, snarling in the void of its imprisonment.
There hadn’t been nearly as much of a gap between the last two memories, roughly a cockroaches year later. It was late, the spacious Serizawa household was dead silent if one didn’t count the faint ticking of a clock in the hallway. Puppet, seven years old woke up with a dry throat, wiping the drowse away from his eyes as he tiptoed down the.. Stairs? The trinity saw no point in having those monstrous things in any households, though they supposed it was due to the cockroaches lack of wings capable of causing devastating storms. Puppet flinched when he heard the door open, knowing damn well he wasn’t supposed to be awake but knowing just as well the foolish one had arrived home after an unusually long absence. “Otōsan?” Puppet whispered, peeking around the corner. The foolish one stood by the door, shrugging off his coat. Even then, Puppet observed the foolish one looked exhausted, Ichi observed he was clearly past his prime based on the way his shoulders slumped and dark circles lingered under his eyes. But when he saw Puppet, his eyes softened.
“What a family of rejects.” San snarked.
“Surely we killed our spawns by this age.” Ni chimed in, fuming as per usual.
“Silence!” Ichi demanded, his voice booming.
“Ren, why aren’t you in bed?” The foolish one asked, his voice low. Puppet glanced up at his spawn, his gaze a rare look of relief, when Ni first watched this event play out, he’d hoped it was the excitement one felt before a kill, though Ichi shut him down and reminded him cockroaches could not laugh at tragedy like they could, prompting San to propose they teach Puppet how. “I wanted to show you my toys.” Puppet eagerly explained, gripping a small figurine in his hands. “Please?” Puppet pleaded, much to the amusement of Monster Zero. As per usual when approaching anything other than the lizard, the foolish one hesitated, his gaze wandering towards the staircase. “Your mother will scold us both if she finds out.” The foolish one gently reminded, the faint smile tugging at his lips betraying his attempts at being responsible. “She’s asleep,” Puppet assured the foolish one, the trinity that made up King Ghidorah recalled the foolish one would be swept off his feet if the lizard was in the room rather than his burden of a sperm. “Come on!” Puppet whispered, tugging at the foolish one’s sleeve, a recurring theme to get his attention. The foolish one allowed himself to be led to Puppet’s room. For once, he didn’t seem distracted or in a rush. He sat on the edge of Puppet’s bed as he excitedly showed off his collection of action figures and models, the foolish one listened, going as far as to asking questions which made Puppet wonder in the back of his mind if it were too good to be true.
“Did you make this one?” The foolish one asked, holding up a small robot Puppet had cobbled together from spare parts, it wasn’t much of an improvement from the pathetic excuse from a year ago, though San supposed Puppet never learned perfection, if he had, his machine wouldn’t have failed San.. Yep, couldn’t possibly be San’s own fault for allowing himself to be blindsided with the rage of losing. “Yeah, it can move too!” Puppet beamed, flipping a switch to demonstrate, earning a chuckle from the usually stoic man. “You’re very talented, Ren, I know you’ll do great things one day.” The foolish one assured, placing the robot back on the shelf. “Great things.. Makes me wonder what Daddy would think of Puppet trying to destroy the very thing he died for.” Ni snarked, “Good thing we’re not looking for right-minded cockroaches, as it happens.” San chimed in. “Must the two of you insist on this infuriating chatter despite the fact not a damned soul can hear us?” Ichi spat, his regal tone like acid burning through their skin. “Oo, my sincerest apologies, dear Ichi, I didn’t realize you were invested in the thing we’ve witnessed a thousand times already.” San snarked, it was times like this Ichi wished for their body back just so he could bite San’s smart head off himself.
“But now, you really should sleep.” The foolish one trailed off, preparing himself for his son’s protests based on the way Puppets face visibly fell. “Can’t you read me something first?” Puppet asked, seemingly testing the waters to see how far he could push his luck. The foolish one sighed as if it would kill him but nodded, had the lizard asked the foolish one to read to him he wouldn’t hesitate. He pulled a book from Puppets shelf and began to read aloud, his voice steady and calm, Puppet curled up beside him, listening intently.
By the time the foolish one reached the second chapter, his voice had trailed off and dosed into a sleep. Puppet glanced up to see his father slumped against the headboard, fast asleep, Puppet draped a blanket over the two of them and wrapped his arms around the foolish one’s arm like a clingy monkey. “Goodnight, papa, I love you.” Puppet muttered, once again causing the trinity to recoil in nothing short of disgust.
The next morning, both Puppet and the foolish one woke up to the sound of Taketa laughing softly, she stood in the doorway, holding a camera— a device Ghidorah was only familiar with due to San accessing the humans archive known as the ‘internet’ while he was in that silver tincan. “You two are adorable,” She beamed, snapping a photo of the scene.
As the memory faded to black and Monster Zero found themself in a solitary void once more, Ghidorah sneered as it absorbed this memory, it found the tenderness revolting, a blight on the bitterness it sought to cultivate in Ren. The hydra couldn’t destroy these fragments of love as a mere spectator, but it seemed it didn’t have to do so much as lift a talon since the hardships of life would crush that love itself, leaving the dragon to relax for once, to lurk in the shadows while it waited to devour every crack in the unsuspecting cockroaches heart.
One of many things Puppet learned in his rather sheltered childhood, gated from the hardships those in poverty had since he was and had always been wealthy.. Puppet was eleven when the foolish one declared they needed “father-son bonding time” despite only doing the bare minimum as a father for the last eleven years, of course, the trip was a familiar faces idea— Vivienne Graham, the one King Ghidorah had gone out of his way to target due to her cheerful energy annoying him. “She was delicious.” San snarked.. The trip was a favor to Ishriō when she suggested she take her niece along, the nieces who had nothing in common with Puppet, prompting him to hate every second of it.
The forest buzzed with life, choked by its own overgrown branches— mosquitoes, the constant trill of cicadas, and the constant crunch of leaves. Puppet swatted at a mosquito biting his neck, wincing as the welt itched instantly. “This is stupid,” he muttered, scuffing his sneakers against a root.
“Run, rabbit, run.” Ni muttered.
“Ren, come on.” The foolish one called from ahead, a fishing rod in one of his hands, another cockroach gadget Ghidorah only knew of thanks to San. “We’ll try the lake there.” The foolish one declared, much to Puppets dismay who missed his bed and the general comfort of the inside. Vivienne’s nieces ran ahead, laughing and chasing eachother while their voices were in a carefree tone Puppet couldn’t possibly bring himself to understand, he trudged along, nothing short of miserable as he swatted at invisible bugs and yelped as a lizard scurried past his foot. The foolish one didn’t notice Puppets discomfort, though the thought that he did and simply didn’t care made Ni and San chuckle. As per usual, the foolish one seemed more engaged in a conversation with Vivienne as their conversation centered around Monarch and by extension, Godzilla, so it was natural the foolish one would want to talk about all things the lizard.
When they finally reached the lake, the foolish one crouched by the water, showing Vivienne’s nieces how to bait the fishing hooks. Puppet stood awkwardly behind them, slapping his wrist each time he tricked himself into hearing the sound of a buzz, or perhaps an insect was taking pleasure in repeatedly tormenting him, something Ghidorah couldn’t blame the thing for. “Ren, come here. You can try too.” The foolish one offered, his tone so casual it infuriated Puppet as he and his blatantly obvious discomfort had been ignored for most, if not all of the trip. “No thanks.” Puppet snapped, sitting down on the cleanest rock he could scout out. “I don’t even like fishing..” Puppet grumbled with the hopes that the foolish one would do something he enjoyed for once, but Ghidorah didn’t dub Ishirō the foolish one without purpose. “Suit yourself.” The foolish one stated with a shrug, returning his focus to the girls, laughing as one of them squealed about a slippery worm.
Puppet’s scowl deepened at the sight, feeling invisible was a familiar feeling, though never welcome. He felt like a shadow in his own family, luckily, he caught sight of his mother, sitting by the edge of the campfire and patting the log she sat on, not only smiling warmly at him, but actually acknowledging him. Puppet trotted over like a dog desperate for attention, leaning on her shoulder like a much younger boy.
“I hate this trip.” Puppet deadpanned, his voice strained from his allergies acting up in the face of nature, leaving Puppets mother to stroke his hair soothingly while he buried his face in her shoulder. “It’s only a few days, Ren.” She whispered assuringly, making sure to be out of the foolish one’s earshot. “You’ll survive. Just stay close to me, okay?” Mrs. Serizawa muttered, kissing her son’s forehead.
Ghidorah as a wholes consciousness surged at the memory, delighting in the resentment Puppet felt towards his father. The envy, the bitterness— it was a feast. But then it hurt the warmth Puppet felt in his mother’s embrace, the feeling of being seen, appreciated, and loved. This love was an infection, something it couldn’t fully extinguish but trusted the hardships of the world to do so.
The mid-2000s, so roughly ten years before the trinity was finally released from the icy prison brought Puppet to a prestigious school where wealth and status mattered more than anything else, the school was filled to the brim with the children of CEOs, celebrities, and politicians, Ghidorah hadn’t realized the lizards pets had their own social hierarchies just as their own kind had back on Venus so many years ago, though Puppet realized no amount of money could shield him from the jeers that followed every off-putting and eccentric public statement his father made about the Titans, if the senate overseas couldn’t contain their chuckles, it was like crowd-work at standup bars for a school filled with the privileged.. They’d sneer the same few jabs.
“Your dad’s crazy.”
“Think you’ll bring Godzilla for career day?”
“Does he pray to the Titans at dinner?”
“Can you ask your titan brothers to stop destroying so many cities? People die, y’know, that’s pretty fucked, Serizawa.”
Puppet tried to keep his head down, but there was one particular incident that stuck out to Puppet, when he’d arrived at school on a seemingly normal Thursday, he was preparing to change into slippers for the schoolday when he felt a slimy salamander crawl out of the left slipper, he recalled turning to glare at one of the snickering students who’d claimed: “Isn’t your family good with lizards? Use your titan whispering powers to get us out of this test!” The boy jeered, Puppet felt his skin crawl the rest of the school day due to the slimy feeling of the salamander. Figuring they’d run out of steam, he never retaliated— not to them, at least. At night, he’d retreat to the blocky computers the mid-2000s were home to, creating an account with the same alias: “GhidoraStan64” on several different online forums, he would furiously slam his fingers onto the poor keyboard while he trolled Monarch and any pro-Titan pages, especially Vivienne Graham, posting snarky comments, doctored memes, and going as far as to photoshopping a penis into Vivienne’s mouth after a particularly hard day at school.
“Maybe Vivienne should adopt me.” Puppet muttered to himself one night, staring at the screen with some semblance of satisfaction with all the online traction his posts were getting, at least some strangers overseas thought he was funny. “She already spends more time with Dad than I ever did..” Puppet grumbled bitterly, turning off his computer for the night.
Oh, how Ghidorah feasted on Puppets bitterness, his anger, his loneliness. He poured it all into that digital void, unaware of the devil with three heads lurking in the back of his mind, seeing everything through his shoes.. Ichi and Ni considered his petty acts of rebellion nothing more than cries for attention, echoes of a boy who longed to be seen, though San considered the online trolling genius.
Much to Ghidorah’s dismay, Puppets schoolyard days weren’t as much of a constant stormcloud as they’d hoped.
Puppet’s school uniform was as crisp and neat as the reputation of the private academy he attended, the beige blazer and tie made him feel constricted, but it was the sneering glances and constant jeers that truly suffocated him. Sitting in the back corner of the classroom, Puppet scribbled quietly in his notebook, doodling schematics of machines— his mind a refuge from the cruel stares and mockeries that echoed every time his fathers face made headlines, criticizing humanity.
“Mr. Serizawa,” The teacher announced one day, interrupting his thoughts. “We have a new student joining us, please make her feel welcome.” The teacher urged Puppet and the rest of the class, though Puppet barely looked up, expecting yet another polished face from another wealthy family, but the girl standing at the front wasn’t like the rest of them.. Ghidorah deduced this girl later became very important to Puppet based on the fact he remembered her name; Mira Yamane, her uniform was clearly secondhand as it didn’t quite fit, slightly oversized, and her hair was parted off to the side while lightly bleached to an orangish-amber hue, as if daring the world to question her right to be there. When this Mira was seated beside him, Puppet glanced up at her briefly. “Hi.” Puppet muttered curtly, “Hi yourself.” She replied without missing a beat, her voice confident as her maroon-painted nails tapped on his notebook. “What’re you drawing?” Mira asked, tilting her head. “Nothing.” Puppet replied, quickly closing his notebook as he had assumed she was mocking him, or preparing a jab about his father. “Didn’t look like nothing,” She teased. “You’re smart, aren’t you? I bet you think all of this—“ Mira trailed off, gesturing to the classroom. “Is a waste of time.” Puppet didn’t answer, but her words lingered, for the first time in years, someone had dragged a pickaxe to his icy, guarded demeanor and tore through it with ease. They became study partners, then friends, and eventually, something more, not without the help of Puppets mother to grow a set and ask her out before someone else did. Mira’s unrelenting energy chipped away at Puppet’s aloofness, and to his surprise, he found himself allowing to laugh, sharing parts of himself he thought were long buried. His mother adored her, always inviting Mira for dinner, marveling at her artwork, and excitedly referring to her as her daughter in law. For a while, Ghidorah noted Puppet felt his life was normal.
But Ghidorah, lingering in the shadows of his mind, recoiled at this, these memories of Mira filled Puppet with warmth when they wanted him miserable and clinging to the one who is many out of desperation, the three of them seethed in disgust, waiting for cracks to form in Puppets happiness.
Luckily for Ghidorah, Puppet’s world crumbled the moment he reached adulthood when his mother passed away from a sudden heart attack. The funeral was a massive weight on his shoulders, consisting of grief, anger, stress, and bitterness. He, at the ripe age of eighteen had to organize everything himself because the foolish one was, as always, absent— too engrossed with his work at Monarch. Puppet sat in the front pew of the small chapel, staring blankly at the casket draped in white lilies. Guests that were distant family and family friends alike whispered around him, their words indistinct murmurs that felt like bees buzzing in his ears. “Ren.” That damned Mira girl whispered, Ghidorah had hoped they would be done by high school, but they were two peas in a pod. “You don’t have to do this alone.” She’d try to insist, wrapping her arms around his arm. Much to Ghidorah’s glee, Puppet shook his head, his jaw clenched. “She deserved better.” He grumbled, lips pressed into a thin line. “She deserved for her own husband to be here.” Puppet snapped, his frustration hardly masked.
“Mr. Serizawa, a word?” The sharp Mexican accent rang out in the room filled with otherwise Japanese accents, the voice belonging to a hand placed on Puppets shoulder, Puppet looked up to meet his gaze when Mira rubbed his arm, obviously taken aback to see Walter Simmons; CEO of Apex Cybernetics taking time out of his day to go talk to him. “Yes..?” Puppet asked, his gaze narrowed and obviously guarded. “I’m so sorry for your loss, your mother was a remarkable woman and you’ve got too much potential to join Monarch, when you’re ready, Apex has a place for you.” Simmons got straight to the point, his viper-smile nothing short of nerve racking, Puppet was shocked by his audacity and bit back telling the vulture to go to hell, but he realized this could be an opportunity to avenge his mother, the guy standing over him was filthy rich and would most likely let Puppet do as he pleased without question and without coming out of his pocket. “Thank you, i’ll get back to you before you know it.” Puppet muttered, forcing a gritted-teeth smile and taking the internship letter.
Ghidorah had an absolute field day with the rage Puppet felt in this very moment, but there was more to come, despite Mira seemingly being to Puppet what Mothra was to Godzilla, even down to the names— Mira, Mothra, she couldn’t stop him from falling down a dark path.
For the next two nights, Mira spent the night at Puppets house, ensuring he ate and got out of bed, she’d introduced him to an American degenerate by the name of Chris Chan, causing Puppet to look at his trolling account: GhidoraStan64 like an old friend, managing to laugh at the man overseas and take his mind of his mother, if it were just for a moment.
“Did you know that Chris Chan guy later went on to have sex with his mother?” San sneered.
“..Silence.” Ichi grumbled.
The sound of the foolish one’s car pulling into the driveway was almost too casual for the weight of the moment. Puppet was sitting cross-legged in the very living room Puppet had begged his father to come see his toys in so many years ago, packing his belongings into a duffel bag while Mira meticulously folded his clothes. The house reeked faintly of incense from his mother’s funeral, and Puppet had been suffocating from underneath the weight of organizing it all himself. Despite the introduction to lolcows on the internet, he hadn’t slept more than a few hours since she passed, and Mira had been his only tether, guiding him through the motions when he wanted to sink into the floor and never surface again.
The front door creaked open, the foolish one stepped into the tension filled home, his usual composed expression barely marred by the faint shadow of exhaustion. Behind him was Vivienne Graham, Puppets one-sided arch nemesis, she waved hesitantly at him, but Puppet didn’t so much as glance up. “Ren.” The foolish one pathetically started, his voice softer than usual. He glanced around the household, glancing at Vivienne for help. “You’ve been taking care of everything?” The foolish one trailed off, causing Puppet to shove a pair of socks into his bag with more force than necessary. “Was I supposed to leave her to rot? Who else was going to do it, I would hope her loving husband.” Puppet spat, earning a sigh and silent plea from the foolish one to understand. “Your mother would’ve understood.. I—“ The foolish one began to say before being abruptly cut off. “Don’t.” Puppets voice was sharp, cutting through the foolish one’s words like a blade. “You’re looking me dead in the eyes and telling me she would’ve understood you not being at her funeral? Not saying goodbye? Is that what you’re going to tell me?” Puppet demanded, not finished but the foolish one assumed he was. “Ren, it’s not that simple..” The foolish one muttered, but as stated before, Puppet was not finished. “It is that simple.” Puppet grumbled, standing up with his fists clenched at his side, his voice shaking with years of resentment threatening to spill over. “You didn’t show up.. You couldn’t even bother to be there for her, but oh, look! You had time to play dad for the great Vivienne Graham, what the hell does she have that I don’t?” Puppet demanded, shooting a glare at Vivienne this time around, who was quick to look down like a dog who’d been caught chewing on wires, guilty and uncomfortable.
The foolish one’s composure faltered the moment Vivienne was dragged into the argument, who could have predicted that would happen? “That’s not fair, Vivienne—” The foolish one opened his big mouth to say, even San had realized he should have kept his mouth shut instead of defending his cause. “Vivienne’s a grown woman, she doesn’t need you,” Puppet shot back. “She’s not your family, I was your family.. Mom was your family, but you couldn’t even do that right.” Puppet deadpanned, handing Mira his toothbrush, the usually loud girl reading a room and remaining silent. “Ren—” The foolish one’s voice grew sterner, though it was tinged with frustration and guilt. “No.” Puppet sharply cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it.” Puppet finally put his foot down, turning back to his duffel bag, pulling the zipper shut. Mira placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her presence grounding him just enough to keep him from exploding entirely.
The foolish one sighed, giving up on trying to get Puppet to see reason. “Where are you going?” The foolish one dared to ask even if it should’ve been obvious. “With Mira,” Puppet replied in an ice-cold tone, “Until it’s time to move into college. Don’t worry— you won’t have to deal with me anymore.” Puppet spat, “That’s not fair.” The foolish one protested, his voice rising slightly. “I’m trying—” The foolish one continued, but the Puppet was too blinded by grief and anger to hear. “No, you aren’t. You don’t try, you don’t even care. You just show up and expect everything to be fine.” Puppet interrupted.
The weight of the words hung in the air, The foolish one dared to glance at Mira for help, who avoided his gaze and continued packing Puppet’s things. “You’ll regret speaking to me like this one day, I spoke to my father the same way.” The foolish one reassured in a soft tone Puppet hadn’t heard in nearly a decade by now, Puppet realized he was moreso trying to convince himself than convince him and barked a bitter laugh. “No, I won’t, I'm done trying to get you to care, Dad.” Without another word, Puppet zipped his suitcase and walked out of the room, Mira followed closely behind, sparing Ishirō a brief, apologetic look before closing the door behind them.
Ghidorah sneered, revelling in the fury of this very memory. Had Puppet known this would be the last time the two had an A-B conversation, would things be different? Good thing they weren’t!
One year had passed since this moment, Puppet adjusted the collar of his pristine Apex uniform, the synthetic material stiff against his neck. The lab buzzed with activity, employees darting between monitors and machinery like worker bees. Walter Simmons, as always, stood at the center of it all, a smug grin plastered on his face as he surveyed his kingdom. “Ah, Ren!” Walter called out, striding over with his usual overconfidence. “How’s my favorite intern?” Puppet forced a smile. “Fine, sir. Just finished running the diagnostics you requested.”Walter clapped him on the shoulder. “Good, good. You’ve got potential, kid. A real chip off the old block.” Puppet bristled at the mention of his father, but he masked it with a polite nod. “Thank you, sir.” As Walter walked away, Maia Simmons appeared at Puppet’s side, her arms crossed. “He only likes you because it pisses your dad off,” she said bluntly. “I know,” Puppet replied, his voice flat. Maia studied him for a moment. “You don’t have to take this crap, you know.” Puppet glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it for me.” Maia shrugged, smirking slightly. “Whatever you say, Ghidorastan.” Puppet’s lips twitched at the mention of his old Twitter handle, but he said nothing. He turned back to his work, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he buried himself in data.
Ghidorah found this relatively amusing, soaking in the negativity as if they were a sponge. Watching Puppet join that company out of a desire for revenge was the cherry on top, they knew first hand that revenge drove one to madness, not that they’d admit that.
A whole nine years had passed since Puppet joined that pitiful company, Ghidorah lost track of how old he was now but this year— 2019, was very significant to them, it was when those foolish cockroaches had finally freed them from their ice prison.. It seemed Puppet was having a good year, too.
The Tokyo skyline glistened like a sea of stars, the city alive with the hum of traffic and distant laughter. Puppet and Mira— who much to Ghidorah’s dismay was still in Puppets life, were taking a walk along the park with their Akita named Akari, a dog Puppet hadn’t wanted but slowly yet surely became his shadow.. Something was on Puppet's mind, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the small velvet box in his pocket. Mira leaned against a tree, her long hair swaying in the evening breeze. “You’ve been acting weird all night, what’s going on?” Mira asked, placing an accusatory finger on his chest while she raised an eyebrow.
Puppet took a deep breath, his heart doing cartwheels. “I.. Have something to tell you.” Puppet trailed off, running a hand across Akari’s fur. Mira turned to face him, her expression softening. “Ren, are you breaking up with me again? Because this sounds like one of the thousand times you’ve bullshited me just to call me later.” Mira grumbled, her gaze narrowing. “What? No! Jesus, I didn’t fuck this up already, did I?” Puppet trailed off, dropping to one knee, pulling the box from his pocket and revealing a simple, gold ring. “Mira Yamane, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, would you do me the honor of being your husband?” Puppet asked, feeling as if he could throw up.
For what felt like forever, Mira just stared at him, her eyes wide with shock, then she let out her laugh— contagious as usual, a bright, joyful sound that made his chest ache. “Oh, man. I’m such an idiot, of course I'll marry you.” She stated, pulling him to his feet and kissing him deeply, from the back of his memories, Ghidorah recoiled in disgust when Puppet felt a rare warmth in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t endured since he was a child. For once, he wasn’t thinking about his father, or Apex, or the Titans.. All that mattered was Mira.
..Speaking of Puppets father, Ghidorah could admit they had a hand in the foolish ones death, though the foolish one had just as much of a hand in their death when he sacrificed himself to bring the pathetic lizard back to life, the lizard who couldn’t defeat them without the help of other Earthlings.. Not that they had been defeated, do not make them laugh, if they were defeated, they’d be completely gone.
Nonetheless, the demise of the foolish one hit Puppet like a speeding truck. He showed up to the funeral and shook hands with a guy called Mark Russel his father had met relatively recently, though had the honor of getting his fathers journal. Puppet hadn’t bothered giving a speech, he didn’t know the foolish one well enough to do so. This resulted in Puppet pouring hours into work, driven by the desire to destroy the creature the foolish one had given his life for, besides having a small wedding with Mira, his days were spent at Apex.
Ghidorah could recall their second prison, the control room that enslaved their skull was a maze of screens and wires, the faint hum of machinery filling the air. This was when they’d first acknowledged Puppets existence, having nothing better to do. Puppet sat in the pilot's chair, his hands gripping the controls as the psionic uplink activated. The first time he connected to Ghidorah’s remains, he had felt nothing but awe. The alien consciousness was just that— a vast, incomprehensible, storm of rage and hunger that dwarfed everything he’d ever known, now reduced into a living supercomputer under his palm. But now, as the mecha roared to life, he felt something else: a whisper, faint but insistent.
“You are not enough.”
Puppet froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice was inside his head, slithering through his thoughts like a serpent.
“You will fail, just like him.”
“No.” Puppet muttered, shaking his head. “The only thing he and I share is a last name.” Puppet insisted, knowing deep down it wasn’t true.
But the three voices didn’t dare stop, it fed on his doubte, his insecurities, amplifying them until they consumed him.
And consumed him they did, when the overload came, they ensured the pain would be excruciating, but not enough to kill Puppet. Sparks flew from the controls, and Puppet could only scream as electricity surged through his body, the last thing he saw before blacking out was the foolish one offering him a smile before fading away.
Though, that was three years ago and somehow, Puppet still hadn’t woken up and Ghidorah was growing bored.
“Claw your way out, what could you possibly be waiting for?”
“They’re underestimating you.”
“Claw. Your. Way. Out.”
The harsh, sterile light of what was surely a medical center loomed over Puppet as he opened his eyes for the first time in three years, the steady beep of a heart monitor pulling him out of his trance.