Razorback Ridge my armor is harder than most

were gojira a human, he might’ve smiled with muscles ‘round his lips tight with uncertainty. the language barrier might not be seen but it, to gojira, was a palpable thing; pushing against his efforts to bridge it. at the very least, he hoped he was able to build a bridge across it even if it was tightrope thin and fraying in the middle. the stranger gestures to himself and speaks again, communicating that he was foolish. words get lost in the translation but gojira nods like an overeager puppy; desperate to understand.

he gets the gist of it, he thinks; unfortunately for the stranger, gojira only grasps that he, the stranger, is calling himself baka; a fool. the perils of the path — though the tenrai would agree if he understood what was being said — are lost on him.

name, he understands. henryk, the stranger says. his name, is henryk. it is a strange sounding name, gojira thinks. gojira. he offers his own name with a stiff bow of his had. i am gojira. he adds, speaking each word slowly.