Kyoto, Japan; 1999

The battle was over.

Kyoto lay in ruins, reduced to a fiery inferno that had only begun to be quelled by the violent rainstorm that had endured during the battle. The streets were choked with the dead and dying, their weak cries for help ringing uselessly throughout the broken city. Their bodies were minute in size, however, to the hordes of massive corpses that lay in the city-turned-battlefield. They were like macabre snowflakes, each one was unique in how they perished. Some had been sliced open and dismembered by some massive blade, while others had simply been pulverized into the ground by titanic fists. More had been roasted by a fearsome flame that singed and scorched their unholy flesh, and the rest had been shredded and disintegrated by shrapnel and mighty weapons of war. It was a disquieting memorial to the single most important battle fought on Earth.

The battle was over, and the world was victorious.

A lone figure slowly stalked through the ruins, taking care to avoid those unfortunate souls who managed to survive the battle. It was a humongous figure, taller than many of the buildings that lay shattered. Each ponderous step kicked ash and rubble into the air, leaving massive craters in the broken tarmac of the streets. Trailing behind it was its own blood, a brilliant emerald that stood in contrast to the grey and brown of the battlefield before the rains washed it away. It was obvious that the figure was dying. Bereft of one arm and covered head to toe in gashes, cuts, and scratches, it was a wonder that it was still alive, let alone standing.

Despite its horrible wounds and tremendous pain, it was happy. The Shadow of Evil was finally vanquished for good, it would no longer violate the world with its malevolent and all-consuming presence. The city had been lost in the horrific battle, but the world would finally know peace, having truly fought arm in arm in order to save itself. Mankind would rebuild and move on into a golden age, having been humbled by the tremendous forces that had been at play for so many years.

The figure was at the edge of the sea now, and walked into the surf slowly, letting the cool seawater numb its wounds. It was no longer needed, Mankind had proven itself by fighting alongside the massive protector, they could defend themselves now. At long last, it could finally rest for good, whether it be at the bottom of the sea or in death. With one last triumphant cry, Gamera, Guardian of the Universe, sank beneath the waves and to the cold seafloor below. Its brilliantly-colored eyes closed, ready to embrace the peace it had sought for so long...

...and opened them again.

It was somewhere else now. No longer did it find itself in the chilly stillness of the ocean floor, but in a grassy field. The sun shone warmly on its scaly face, and it had to squint in order to compensate for the sudden change in brightness. It was, to say at the very least, confused. Am I dead? the Guardian asked itself. It inhaled deeply through its nostrils, taking in the air. It tasted sweet, it could detect no pollution in it. Rising slowly, it stood to its full height and looked around. The grassy field extended for as far as the eye could see, broken only by the occasional tree. The sky was a gorgeous blue, populated by puffy white clouds that promised good weather for some time. The Guardian looked down and found that it was fully healed of its horrific wounds, even its missing arm had returned. Was it truly dead? Could it be in some afterlife of sorts?

A scent gave it an answer. It was smoke, Gamera could faintly tell. A feeling in its gut told it that the smoke wasn't being caused by something natural. Straining its eyes, it found that smoke was rising in the distance, and now it could hear the sound of cannon fire. It was definitely not the afterlife, the Guardian decided. It was still on Earth. Gamera now knew why it was awake once more. The world needed it once more, its very essence crying to the Guardian for help against whatever was happening.

And there would an answer. Smoke erupted forth from Gamera's legs, and the Guardian of the Universe rose into the sky on pillars of flame, racing towards the battle in the distance, ready once more for to fight for the world. It would find that its appearance was most timely.