Shoot commences

Five months later…

The abandoned warehouse had been transformed into something surreal — dim lights, towering cardboard cityscapes, smoke machines puffing out nuclear fog. It wasn’t just a set. It was Masao’s dream, finally breathing.

He had it all now.

His own crew.

His actors.

His vision — no more rejections, no more “too risky.”

It was his film, his rules.

As the sun cracked through the dusty windows, Shinji arrived.

But something was... off.

His hair was slicked back, darker. His eyes? Wild. Not with fear, but instinct.

He didn’t walk in — he lurched in, scanning the space like a predator in a foreign land.

His neck twitched, like a puppet tugged by invisible strings.

His footsteps were heavy… purposeful… rehearsed.

And when they broke for lunch, Masao watched in silence as Shinji devoured his food — no conversation, no table manners — just like an animal. Hunched, silent, intense.

Masao didn’t speak.

He just nodded to himself.

> “He’s in character…”

But even he couldn’t shake the feeling that Shinji wasn’t playing Godzilla anymore.

He had become it.

And this…

This was just the beginning.

Day One of Filming.

The lights dimmed. The crew prepared the cameras. The miniature Tokyo stood ready to be destroyed.

But Shinji stood still.

Confused. Frozen.

He had trained, transformed his mind, prepared his body…

But he had never actually seen the suit.

And then — Masao unveiled it.

The towering animatronic Godzilla suit stood like a god of war in the center of the set.

Steel spine. Scaled plates. Glowing eyes powered by hidden circuits. Its mouth twitched from pre-programmed reflexes, and it breathed with a soft hiss of machinery.

Shinji didn’t blink.

He stared at it…

And for a moment, his entire body loosened.

His lips parted.

His eyes widened.

Like a soul… finally finding the body it was meant for.

He slowly approached it. One step. Then another.

No fear. No hesitation.

Only a strange… reverence.

His fingers reached out and brushed the rough, ridged surface of the suit —

and he shuddered, like he had touched his own skin.

He turned to Masao, eyes wild and glassy. His posture hunched, neck twitching, arms half-raised — like an animal recognizing its own reflection.

Then came the smile.

A wide, unnatural grin stretched across Shinji’s face.

Unblinking.

Unhuman.

And Masao?

He said nothing.

He only whispered to himself...

> "My monster has arrived."

The suit opened.

With the hiss of hydraulics and the groan of metal, the chest plate lifted.

Shinji stepped forward — no words, no hesitation — and climbed inside.

It was like instinct.

Like he’d done it a hundred times before.

No instructions.

No questions.

He just... moved.

Inside the towering beast, his limbs aligned with the animatronic controls perfectly.

He could run.

He could jump.

He could roar with the flick of his throat.

The suit wasn’t limiting him — it was freeing him.

I watched, stunned.

And yet… something stirred deep in my gut.

An uneasiness. Like watching a dream walk on legs it shouldn’t have.

Shinji wasn’t acting.

This wasn’t method. This wasn’t performance.

This was possession.

His movements were too fluid, too natural — as if he and the monster were one.

And as he turned toward me, through the glowing eyes of the suit...

I felt it.

> Something isn't right with this man.

And the worst part?

I smiled back.

Because the camera was ready to roll.

My name is Karl.

I came to Japan looking for something exciting —

A break from the dull life back home.

Movies, monsters, madness? Sounded fun enough.

I never expected to end up working with Masao Tawagaki — a man with fire in his eyes and a storm in his mind.

I became his assistant. Helped with set design. Gave notes on scenes.

Even co-directed a few sequences when things got too hectic.

At first, it was the best job I ever had.

And then…

It became a nightmare I couldn’t escape.

This isn’t just a story about a film.

It’s not about Godzilla either.

This is the story of how I got trapped in a vision that went too far —

A vision that stopped being fiction

And started becoming something far, far worse.

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