Me and Miko rested in the hot spring, relaxing after our lovemaking. She had tilted her head back, eyes closed, purring softly from the intense afterglow. I lounged in the pool, watching her with an indulgent smile, being the one who admired their work for a change. The loud voices of our children could be heard in the distance, frolicking somewhere among the other areas of the spa center. The sky had lightened, and sun rays penetrated the cloud cover here and there. The atmosphere was peaceful, and my eyes were slowly closing on their own.
Suddenly, I heard something. It was a low clicking sound in irregular pattern. It was so faint that at first I thought I imagined it. But I snapped my head toward the sound on instinct, predator-like, and looked at a large oak tree on the edge of the spa center grounds.
And I saw a man hidden in the tree's crown, snapping pictures with a large camera.
A paparazzo.
I spotted him totally by chance: the tree was some thirty yards away, its rich autumn-colored crown still retaining most of its leaves, and there was no movement. Yet I looked dead-on, and saw him right there. Unfortunately, the paparazzo also noticed me noticing him, given my abrupt movement.
He ran away. Quick as lightning, he jumped down from the tree and dashed toward the high walls of the spa center.
"Fucking asshole!" I roared, leaping out of the hot spring. "Miko, take care of the children!" I yelled over my shoulder, and immediately gave pursuit.
The paparazzo was fast on his feet, very fast. And nimble: by the time I reached the outer wall and leapt over it with one mighty jump, he was already on the other side and starting the engine of a beat-up moped. I landed with a heavy thud while the paparazzo vroomed away down the dirt road. He spilled onto the main road and turned right, heading toward Makinata's center.
Instead of following him directly, I sprinted straight ahead through the adjacent farmland, running in parallel to the main road. The scorched and barren soil crunched under my clawed feet; the harvest had already been gathered months ago. I ran as fast as I could, trying to match up the whizzing moped. I panted and growled, knowing it was a hopeless endeavor.
Then, a stroke of luck: the paparazzo took a right turn just before Road Station Ogo, trying to head north. But the street there was narrow, and a car was just exiting. The paparazzo had to slow down to avoid crashing, and I finally caught up with him enough to hex his moped.
I snarled a curse, throwing my arm in the moped's direction. The small engine sputtered and died. The paparazzo dismounted, looking wildly around, and saw me crashing straight toward him. He yelled in alarm and dove among the nearest buildings. From there on, it was a foot chase – one where I had the advantage.
However, the paparazzo turned out to be a skilled parkour practitioner. He effortlessly climbed fences, evaded obstacles like trashcans and random piles of crates, and jumped over all other kinds of riffraff. In my case, I had to either smash my way through or dodge clumsily around things. It was because the buildings were too close together; I couldn't spread my limbs properly and as such I barely kept up with the paparazzo.
We reached the heart of Makinata District, and the paparazzo took a narrow alleyway full of discarded boxes. I followed, hot on his heels, and suddenly we both burst out in a flurry of ripped cartons onto the market street, the most crowded place in the whole district. People everywhere stopped to look at our commotion. The paparazzo dashed between the astonished crowd, not losing a moment. I made to follow, but paused momentarily; my size was at a major disadvantage here, unless I wanted to bowl through people and very likely injure them in the process. I was also acutely aware how this looked from a side perspective: the nine-foot weredinosaur chasing a guy barely over a hundred pounds.
"He– he stole my wallet!" I shouted the first excuse that came to mind, quite incongruously; I was fully naked and didn't look like someone who used money on a regular basis. Losing no more time, I ran after, panicked people trying to move out of my way.
"No, he stole my wallet!" the paparazzo shouted shrilly, even more incongruously.
In the end, it didn't matter – people gave both of us a wide berth, not wishing to intervene in a situation with a deadly monster involved. The chase continued, panicked crowds all around us, crashing merchant stalls, chaos everywhere in a blur of motion. I desperately tried to close the distance, thinking how this whole disaster fell somewhere between the merry capers in Benny Hill and the furious pursuits in Cowboy Bebop; more dignified than the former but much less graceful than the latter.
The paparazzo finally left Makinata's densest streets, exiting through a backyard near the Ogo river. There, at the innermost ring of farmland, with only open terrain and no major obstacles, I was sure to catch him. I increased my speed with a roar, knocking over a pile of crates. The paparazzo glanced over his shoulder, his expression one of pure terror, and looked wildly around, reaching the same conclusion as me.
But the tables turned yet again. A rare cyclist came down one lane, biking along blissfully unaware, phone buds in her ears. The paparazzo spotted the cyclist and leapt, shoving her off her bike. She hadn't even finished rolling when he was already on the bike, pedaling away. He was getting away again!
I roared, and lunged forward, reaching with my arm, claws fully extended (yes, I was willing to risk injuring the bastard) – and – and almost, almost got him. Yet I snatched only at air, millimeters away from his back.
I raced after the cycling paparazzo, but I knew I had little chance of catching up once more. Even so, I ran full-tilt, gasping for breath, my sides heaving like bellows. My claws tore up the ground as I ran almost on all fours, keeping balance with my tail. A mere dozen yards away, the paparazzo frantically fled, screaming at the top of his lungs. The distance was slowly melting; if I could endure for a minute or two, I would get close enough to pounce him and end the chase.
Then a final obstacle barred my way, more formidable than any previous hurdle: a JSDF forward outpost. Interspersed at key points half a kilometer into the quarantine zone, those served as an early warning system, should any of the dangerous kaiju (that's me and my family) decide to assault the main perimeter or do other monster rampage-y stuff. Presently, this forward outpost spelled doom to my efforts.
The paparazzo cycled straight past the outpost, the soldiers too surprised to react. But they were not so confused when I approached, and they raised their weapons, one of the soldiers going so far as to interpose himself in my way.
I stopped abruptly, throwing a shower of tarmac dust and debris, barely avoiding crashing into the soldier. I wanted to snarl, feeling full of fury, having been cut so short yet I managed to held my raw emotion with sheer will; if I acted like a monster just now, I was guaranteed to eat lead at point-blank range.
The soldiers at once demanded that I step back and turn away. I complied with extreme reluctance – there was nothing else I could do. I could only watch in absolute frustration as the paparazzo cycled onto a north-bound road, heading straight towards the barricade – and towards whatever means of extraction that awaited him there.
The paparazzo vanished in the distance. I had no idea how he sneaked past the containment perimeter and who potentially helped him. I had no idea who he worked for, either.
I was only certain that now me and my family's existence would become well and truly known to the world.
***
Later that day, I held a 'council meeting' with my closest kin: Miko, Jared, and Alex (whom I had called over the phone). We sat in the dining pavilion at the shrine temple, trying to work out what the hell we were supposed to do now.
"Perhaps the Yakuza weren't so noble as you thought," my brother said dryly, speaking in English as he rarely did. "Or maybe that Commander Tanaka tried to get some payback."
"Damn it, Alex!" I growled, glaring at the cellphone put on speaker at the table's center. "It doesn't matter who did it or why – what matters is what we can do to stop them."
"Yo, but having info may be useful," Jared said, sitting next to me. "If we know who did it and why, then we'll have a motive and we can use it to, uh, um..." He trailed off, evidently having reached some dead-end conclusion.
"This isn't a CSI drama, Jared," I said, irritated. "Besides, we have no evidence," I rolled my eyes at the unintentional pun, "that he acted on someone else's behalf."
"Ok, if the guy acted alone, how 'bout this: I'll sneak past the military cordon, same as him," Jared said eagerly. "I bet if he can do it, I can."
"Ugh, Jared... If you could bypass the barricade, you would've done it ages ago."
"Maybe I can try some spell?" Miko said uncertainly.
"What kind of spell?" I lifted my head to look at her hopefully. Up until now, Miko had been silent in the discussion. "Can you track him and hex his camera, from a distance?"
"Well... I don't know. Maybe. I'm not sure," Miko said. She then shook her head. "Divination is... I'm not comfortable with it," she added a little sadly.
"Alex, what about you? Can you track that idiot and drop a curse on him remotely?" I asked.
"From the other side of the world? Nikuv shans," my brother replied bluntly.
We spoke thus at length, but none of us had any useful ideas. The discussion went circles. We all were frustrated, but I felt the worst: at once filled with rage and powerless to act upon it.
Finally, Jared came up with an... idea.
"Look, guys," he said, "uh, and gals," he added, glancing up, "If we can't stop the inevitable, we should at least ride the tsunami ourselves. Let's have Drago and Miko reveal the truth about their existence themselves! That way we'll control the narrative."
Upon hearing this, the rest of us sat in stunned silence. However, I realized Jared was right: if the whole world learned about my family's existence, if we told them about it – in the right way – then the military (JSDF or otherwise) could no longer hold us imprisoned! If we revealed ourselves in a controlled manner, we could then appeal before the UN, the international community, or the people themselves! If we became a world-wide sensation, we could win our freedom!
How did I not think of this earlier?? Like, a whole year ago!! It was so obvious it hurt, feeling so stupid for having to hear it from someone else to realize this was the right solution all along.
"I'm fucking sold! Jared, this is brilliant!" I shouted, jumping and squeezing my best friend in a dinosaur hug. "Let's do this!"
"Yes, I like the idea," Miko said, fully supportive.
"Ouch," Jared said. "You're crushing me, dino dude!"
Alex was much more skeptical. "There are many things which could go wrong with this plan," he said gravely. However, he (of course) agreed to help – we're talking about my brother here. "I'll contact some of my acquaintances and search for PR specialists to support the campaign on the wider front," Alex said. "We'll need solid spin-doctoring if we want to send the right message."
"I'll talk with the Makinata locals," Jared added in. "I'll persuade them to provide us with whatever we need. I'll explain to them that if they wanna get their chance at freedom – and fame – then they better be on our side."
Finally, we agreed that the content generation (aka the 'news story') had to be done by me and Miko: we knew best how to present ourselves, and we'd decide what we felt was comfortable to share with the world.
"So, it's settled then," Jared said, beaming. "I say we go right ahead, and make an intro video now! No point in wasting time!" he declared and took out his brand new smartphone. (He had obtained it yesterday with some very generous 'leftover pay' from the Yakuza).
Jared lifted the smartphone, hit the record button on the camera app, and began, "Hello, Internet! Today imma show you the greatest wonder in the world!
"Meet my best friend Drago, who's a dinosaur, and his giant horny dinosaur-mage wife, Miko!"
