Titans and Jaegers

AN: Grant me your power stones!

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[Arizona, March 13, 2013]

It all started with a powerful earthquake. I wasn't in the city. I had gone with my grandmother to Arizona to pick up some of her belongings from her home—an improvised trip that ended up saving my life.

By noon, tremors began shaking the West Coast. The news fell into chaos, reporters broadcasting live from studios with flickering lights and people running in the background. The government urged calm, telling people to seek shelter and avoid crowds. Nothing too unusual, I guess… until the epicenter was traced to the Pacific Ocean.

I searched for more information on my phone, though the signal was barely working. What little was being said was confusing: some reports mentioned an unusual storm, others warned of possible tsunamis. Satellite images showed thick, dark clouds forming a ring over the sea, as if something was breathing beneath it.

I kept in touch with my siblings through text messages. They were at home, in San Francisco. They said everything was fine… for now.

But when night fell, all hell broke loose.

A creature emerged from the ocean right in front of the city. The first footage came from a blurry video taken by a passerby: a colossal figure walking through the waves, heading toward the Golden Gate. No one understood what we were seeing. Some screamed it was an alien creature; others thought it was a biological weapon gone rogue.

When it attacked the bridge, there was no more room for theories. We watched it partially collapse, with cars falling like insects, and the emergency sirens blaring pointlessly.

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[London, March 13, 2013 – Stacker]

"Luna, are you listening? Don't do it!" Stacker's voice came through the phone, deep and full of tension.

"Stack, I already told you, this is who I am. You can't stop me. It's my duty."

Stacker let out a heavy sigh and took a sip from the drink in his hand. "You do realize you didn't lie to anyone, right? You weren't on vacation, Luna. You've been training the new pilots. You retired—you're not part of this anymore."

"Yes, I retired. But I still have a duty to them. To everyone. And you know that." The determination in her voice couldn't be hidden.

"Duty to who?! You don't owe the United States anything, Luna!"

There was a long silence. Over the phone, Stacker could hear the sound of launch sirens and people moving into position.

"Yes, we do," Luna finally replied. "Because of the World War II agreement. Because of how they helped us. They saved us. And I have to give some of that back."

—You just want to fight a giant dragon—he thought.

Stacker closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He knew what his sister wanted—and what she felt. That need to face something greater than herself. But what he didn't say, what he held back, was that he also feared it might already be too late to stop her.

"Just be careful, sister..." Stacker's last words, filled with sorrow, were all he could say in that moment. "It's the only thing I can ask of you."

[Months later in Tottenham, London – Stacker]

Six days later, the monster fell. And with it, so did she. Her plane was destroyed mid-flight while trying to drop a bomb on the Kaiju's skull. They say it was quick, that she didn't suffer. They say many things, but the only certain truth is that her body was never found. And no one celebrated. Because when the monster died, it spat out something worse. Its blood, thick like crude oil and radioactive beyond reason, seeped through all of San Francisco, wiping out whoever was still standing. Yes, the monster died. But it didn't die alone. The news reported it like a closing note: "Beware of the blood."

I saw it from afar, but I felt it all the same. I felt something inside me corrode, too. The world didn't change. The world fell apart. And six months later, another Kaiju—as they're called now—appeared in Manila. It wasn't an incident anymore. It was calculated. A silent war, where we're not the ones setting the terms.

I was still in London. Still eating the same food. Still staring at the television without really hearing it. Until today.

"Stack…" Elina's voice—my wife's—broke the silence in the kitchen, soft, like someone afraid to touch an open wound. But I didn't turn around, I just kept staring at the screen with an empty gaze. She came closer, wrapping one trembling arm around my shoulders.

"You have to stop punishing yourself. There was nothing you could do."

"Yes, there was," he replied without thinking. He didn't raise his voice, but the weight of those two words fell like lead.

She stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

"You're not God, Stack. You couldn't have stopped her to save her."

"You don't know that."

"How much longer are you going to live in this guilt? Until it destroys you too?"

I turned slowly, finally meeting her eyes. Hers were damp. Mine were hollow.

"If I don't do something, Elina… if I don't become what I need to be, then her death meant nothing."

"Don't say that. Luna died fighting for something she believed in."

"And now I have to do the same," he said, with a conviction that sounded more like a sentence than a purpose.

She hugged him tightly. As if she could still save him from the weight he already carried on his back.

Then the phone rang. He didn't move right away. He let it vibrate once, twice, three times… as if he already knew what was coming. As if he had been expecting it for months. Finally, he pulled away from Elina and answered.

It was a high-ranking British officer.

—Pentecost… —the voice echoed on the other end of the line, deep and direct—. We know what you've lost. There are no words that can ease that pain, but… what's coming will require your strength. The nations are forming a unified committee. We need a spokesperson, someone who can represent everyone, someone who's been on the field, who understands what we're up against. Someone like you.

There was a pause, before adding:

—It's time to rise, Pentecost. The war is far from over, and you have a role to play in it. We owe it to those we've lost… and to those who will still fight.

There was silence for what felt like an eternity.

—I accept —I said firmly, standing up, leaving Elina's arms behind as I made the decision to stop grieving.

I paused and looked at Elina.

And I knew this wasn't about diplomacy.

This wasn't about flags. No.

I accepted because that call sealed my promise. Because Luna was gone, and I will not let that happen again—not while I can do something about it.

I will make my life a mission. This time I won't just watch. I won't beg those bastards for calm. This time I won't stop until I see them all fall. One by one. Until the last of those monsters stops breathing.

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[One year after the attack — August 13, 2014] – Simon

The teacher kept talking about Math like the laws of the universe still worked the same after a 60-meter lizard or more destroyed San Francisco.

I wasn't paying attention, of course. Not because I'm some kind of rebel or anything like that, I just… already knew it. I have photographic memory. Just one look at the notes and it's enough. Sometimes I think I could be the worst student in the world and still pass with the best grades. And I do. I stay at the top, but under the radar. Because, well, I have a reputation.

While she scribbled equations on the board, I kept thinking about what happened this past year.

People wanted to believe the attack was a one-time thing, a biological accident, an anomaly. And for six months, they clung to that idea like a warm blanket. Until Manila was attacked. That's when denial began to crack. The creature emerged from the ocean like it had been waiting. The media lost its mind. The military activated. The word "Kaiju" became part of our global vocabulary.

Then came Cabo San Lucas. I remember the viral images: an aircraft carrier towing the monster's corpse, wrapped in tarps like that could somehow contain the fear it provoked.

And just when we thought nothing could top that, they hit Sydney. In broad daylight. It was a massacre. But by then everyone was more prepared… though still not enough.

Meanwhile, I went back to school as if none of it touched me. As if I could pretend I was just another kid. But I know I'm not.

I've got a giant robot hidden in… I don't even know what to call it, maybe a pocket dimension? The point is I can summon a giant robot. Well, technically it's a Jaeger, a sort of upgraded version. No—scratch that, Jaegers don't even exist yet. But it works well enough to know that if things go to hell, I have a way to defend myself… or run.

But I also know that if I use it, I'll become a lab rat.

So yeah. Math is boring. But compared to having a mecha in your space garage and the apocalypse knocking on your door every few months, I guess it feels almost… normal.

—Want one? —a high-pitched voice asked.

I turned—and there she was. Again.

Platinum blonde hair, almost white, like she'd walked straight out of a Nordic movie or had a very rare form of albinism. Skin so pale it looked like she'd never met the sun. She looked at me with that confident smile only hyperactive kids or supervillains could pull off. Her name is Nadezhda, or Nadya to her friends, but I call her Snow since the first time I saw her… because, well, look at her. She's like a snowstorm that decided to become a child.

She held out a hand, offering me a strawberry candy that was clearly not hers.

—Thanks —I replied, taking it. Because, well, rejecting candy in the middle of class is basically a social crime.

As I unwrapped it, I couldn't help but think how surreal the situation was. This six-year-old girl talked to me every recess. She'd seek me out, follow me, sometimes even steal my stuff just to return it two days later with a note that read "loan." I was pretty sure she was a tiny kleptomaniac with a spy complex.

And the worst part was, for her age, she had more charisma than half the class combined.

She sat beside me like the seat belonged to her. Then, her eyes locked on the small stuffed animal that always rested on my shoulder: the good white dragon, lounging comfortably like I did in class.

Why do I bring a stuffed animal, you ask? Honestly, my grandmother put it there some time ago, and I just liked it.

—I like your dragon —she said with a genuine smile, touching the plush paw—. It's cute.

I glanced sideways at her. —Thanks. I use it to scare off homework. Doesn't work, but it tries.

She giggled quietly, and for a moment, it felt like the classroom turned a little less gray.

No, wait—that sounds sketchy. I have the mind of an adult. She has the age of a Pikachu.

Legally questionable. Ethically unacceptable. Morally… let's not go there.

So it's better to just smile and nod.

—Thanks for the candy, this bland class was boring me.

—You're welcome —she replied proudly—. I also have cookies. But the teacher can smell those from across the room.

As if it were the most normal thing in the world, she went back to her seat two desks ahead.

I turned back to the front, but my thoughts were no longer on trigonometry or Kaijus. Now I was wondering how the hell a six-year-old could have so much confidence… and whether I should check my pockets in case she stole my eraser again.

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RIIIIING!

The bell rang with that unbearable screech that, ironically, was the most exciting thing to happen in that class. I got up calmly, while most of the class rushed out like the room was on fire. I wasn't in a hurry—unless a Kaiju decided to show up in the middle of Main Street.

—Hey, wait! —came a voice behind me.

Right on cue—as had become routine—she gave me candy in class, talked to me during recess, and at the end of the day, walked with me to the gate before her mom came to pick her up. She walked by my side like we were old friends, like there wasn't a massive age gap, mental gap, or gap in common sense separating us—which, in reality, there was.

I didn't say much, but she always talked to me. Sometimes about her hamster, sometimes about cartoons, sometimes about her mom. I got the feeling she was convinced I was her friend… or her personal project. And although the whole thing was weird, I genuinely liked her. In a world where monsters crawl out of the sea, having someone talk to you like everything's okay… is a luxury.

I thought, as I had many times, that this girl probably had a crush on me. And coming to that conclusion… is always uncomfortable. Technically, I was also a kid—on the outside, at least. But inside, with all I knew and everything I had seen, I felt like we were from two different species.

—Did you know my mom has a new car? —she said proudly.

—Did she buy it or "borrow" it without asking? —I replied with a smirk.

—She bought it! Well… I think! —she laughed again, shamelessly.

That's when Snow's mom appeared at the end of the school path. As always, immaculate. Dressed in a light gray suit, fitted blazer, white office shirt, low heels, dark sunglasses. She had that lawyer vibe—not just someone who knew the law, but someone who could win a case with a single look. The kind of woman who seemed to live with the law on her side… and with curves that made you wonder if the law was fair to nature, too.

"She's got good taste… and beautiful breasts," I thought, with the subtlety of a derailed train.

Should I consider a long-term investment…?

No. No. Terrible idea. Morally questionable. Case closed.

…Though, would this fall under a gray area of the interdimensional penal code?

As usual, her mom crouched slightly to receive her daughter, who ran straight into her arms like the world was simple. And to my surprise, she hugged me too. Just like that.

Not formally or distantly. It wasn't the classic "polite hug." She hugged me for real, with the same warmth she gave her daughter. For a few seconds, her perfume—office and coffee—mixed with the warmth of her body… and I pretended to recoil like a normal boy rejecting female affection, while sneakily positioning a strategic hand.

—Thank you for walking with her, Simon —she said, with a voice that was firm but soft. Then she added, with a barely perceptible smile—: I owe you one.

I nodded, feigning indifference, and turned to leave. Not without first making sure my old stuffed dragon was still on my shoulder. We all carry our relics. Some keep photos; I carry a dragon.

—Byeeee! —Snow shouted before hopping into the backseat of the car, waving like a celebrity.

—Bye —I replied, heading toward the school bus with my headphones on. The big kind that cover your whole ear and isolate you from the world like you hate it. Though I'd upgraded them—better noise canceling, bass boost, and a micro solar battery—I couldn't honestly say I'd built them from scratch.

Actually, they were a gift from Snow.

Yeah. For my birthday.

With a card that read: "So you stop listening to everything and think more about yourself." She wrote it in purple crayon.

The weirdest part wasn't that she remembered the exact date of my birthday—that's no big deal. The weirdest part was that the headphones came in a brand-new, sealed box. Not stolen. That threw me off more than any Kaiju.

I thought about it as I walked, without music. Sometimes I just wanted to disconnect from the sound of the world. From the noise. From the weight of knowing too much and doing nothing.

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When I got home, the scent of green tea welcomed me. My grandmother was already in the kitchen.

—How was it? —she asked without looking at me, as if her senses were sharper than mine.

—I survived —I replied, collapsing into the dining chair.

—That's already quite something —she said with a smile, pouring me a cup.

—I learned that classes are torture for people with photographic memory.

—And no sweets today?

—The usual.

—Ah, young love —she sighed dramatically, as if she knew something.

I shook my head. —Please don't try to marry me off so young —I said, trying to hold back the sarcasm in my voice.

—Mmm… that sarcastic tone? I didn't teach you that —she quipped.

Crap.

—Lies. I've heard you talk to the tax collectors.

She let out a raspy laugh and handed me some toast.

I took a sip of tea and looked out the window. Nothing seemed out of place. The world seemed to keep spinning.

The attacks still bothered me—I didn't know much meta-information about them. After San Francisco came Manila. Then Mexico. Then Australia. I didn't find patterns, I only knew they were testing the waters.

This wasn't going to stop.

And while the world looked for solutions with planes, missiles, and useless UN meetings, I had another option.

But it wasn't time to use it yet. Not here.

I needed a safe place. A way to summon it without painting a target on my back.

Because if someone found out I had it… they wouldn't come asking for help.

They'd come to take it away.

And that—that would truly be the apocalypse.

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AN:

This chapter marks a slow progression in the story. There will be no major battles—at least not in the upcoming chapters. Here are a few points I want to clarify:

- Simon is still a child. Even though time may move quickly in the next chapters, the essence of childhood, confusion, and cautious growth will remain.

- The "Gundam" is not a weapon—or at least, I don't envision Simon piloting it for combat. It serves more as a container of information, a tool for understanding, a repository of knowledge.

- This story does not rush into war. It will walk alongside it, quietly, for a while longer.

- This fanfic is an AU, so don't be surprised if there are changes or additions later on.

- Yes, there is romance—but don't expect anything serious for a long time. For now, the protagonist may experience crushes or infatuations, but nothing more.

- Harem? I'm a beginner—writing something like that would be like putting a noose around my neck. But hey, I might change my mind later.

All of this comes from the perspective of someone who has already written up to Chapter 14.