No answer came from the thing wading ashore.
The jets came. Missiles streaked in, broke against his shoulder like glass rain. He did not flinch. He raised one clawed hand—slowly, deliberately—and placed it on the tallest building he could reach. Not crushing it. Just touching. A geologist reading a rock. the visitor godzilla
A child on a rooftop—a little girl named Eri who had sneaked up to watch the storm—was the only one close enough to see. She did not run. She had no running left in her; her mother had died in the last quake, and the world had already ended once for her. So she sat cross-legged on the wet concrete, her red raincoat pooling around her, and she watched the monster stand still as a mountain. No answer came from the thing wading ashore
He looked confused.