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The axe hit the ground with a quiet thud, the blue fire fading away into the earth.

The Grasper was tired, breath bellowing from between his bared fangs, a glare on his broad face even as his hands shook.

Surge let out a low grumble of a growl, but there wasn’t any bite behind it. He eyed the water, weighing his options. It would be wonderful, to sink beneath the surface, let the waves wash his hide clean, but . . . 

He gave his head a small shake, the gills on the left side of his neck tearing with pain. The Grasper had shredded them with his weapon. It was surprising that he hadn’t lost his eye, or that his throat hadn’t been cut. His leg throbbed with his heartbeat, reminding him that he would hurt more if he tried to move inland.

Maybe it was the exhaustion weighing heavily on his bruised spine, but the earth beneath his feet looked comfortable.

With a snort he carefully leaned over, moving slowly and wincing as different bits of himself flared with sharp aches. The Grasper just watched, hands slowly unclenching, caution in every line of his stance. Surge settled onto all fours, tired arms nearly giving out under his weight. The human buildings around him groaned, and there was a distant tinkle as a series of windows finally shattered.

“What are you doing?” The Grasper’s voice was surprisingly gentle, outside of battle. There was still an edge in his words, but he was just as exhausted as Surge, if not more.

He hissed as he let his injured leg stretch behind him. “Getting comfortable.” A tired snort rasped out of his nose as he finally lowered himself completely to the ground.

The Grasper bared his teeth, and, slowly, sat back against a ruined building. His gaze was fixed on Surge, and while he didn’t reach for his axe, the threat was still there.

Surge snorted and dragged his jaw back and forth, leaving a nice furrow for his head.

Let the Grasper stay awake, then. Let him lose sleep. Young fool.

Pain flaring in tandem with his heartbeat, Surge closed his eyes and stretched his tail behind him, feeling the pull of tired muscles through his back and across his shoulders. The noise of the world fell away, and he slept.

He woke with a jolt and a snort, immediately feeling the aches running through his bones and muscle. A shudder went through his spine, and he let out a rattling hiss as he raised his head and looked around.

The Grasper was asleep, propped against the shell of a ruined building, axe within easy reach. Surge snorted and looked further west. There were small tents set up in the distance, crowds of humans milling around and running from place to place. There were shouts and raised voices and the constant noise of human vehicles moving along the ground and through the sky.

There were some closer to him, picking through the rubble. They all froze when he lifted his head, waiting to see what he would do. There were some people with them who carried the butterfly symbol.

He sighed and carefully lifted his tail free from the rubble, the humans scrabbling away as metal beams and chunks of concrete shifted. Curling his tail tightly around his body, Surge watched as the humans renewed their search, digging through the freshly shifted rubble and calling in their small voices. 

A fresh wave of aches ran through his body and he settled his head back on the ground with an irritated snort. The Grasper jolted awake at the noise, looking around for a brief moment. Surge eyed him as the Grasper took in the fresh sunlight and curled his lip when the Titan just settled back against the rubble.

“Why didn’t you leave, Grasper?” While he’d gotten several good bites out of the Grasper’s feet, he hadn’t damaged his legs. He was well enough to walk away from the battlefield and his former enemy. 

The Grasper wrinkled his nose, the barest edge of his teeth showing. “Why didn’t you?”

Surge grumbled. “Hurts to breathe through bleeding gills. And I don’t feel like walking.”

Large brown eyes gave a slow blink. The Grasper looked to the west, over the decimated city and the humans scuttling like ants over the ruins, something softening in his expression. A flicker of a memory touched the edges of Surge’s mind.

The Graspers of old had often lived alongside humans, when the latter had finally come into the world. It hadn’t been the same as what Mothra and her people had with those who worshipped them, but it was a partnership nonetheless. It made sense that this Grasper was unwilling to step through a ruined city when humans might still be alive in the rubble.

Surge hummed and took a long look at his opponent. The Grasper was full-grown with an impressive collection of scars, likely from growing up on the First Islands. There was experience in the set of his shoulders, and a gentleness in the careful way he held his hands. 

“Why did you help me?”

The Grasper eyed him, something showing in its brown eyes. “I was asked to.”

Surge snorted, then winced at the pull in his neck. “Must be some asker, to change your mind.”

The Grasper bared his teeth. “You’d be carrion, otherwise. Watch your words.”

He yawned. “Just saying. You don’t seem like someone who changes their mind often.”

“I don’t.”

Still keeping his tail wrapped around his body, Surge stretched his forearms out in front of him, the heels of his palms leaving shallow trenches in the dirt and pavement. Bending his chin to his chest as he stretched the back of his neck, he said, “Well, the false Titan is dead. I . . . appreciate you changing your mind.”

The Grasper blinked. “I would have killed it anyway, with or without you.” He gently brushed some dirt from his forearms, quiet for a moment before saying in a low voice, “It felt wrong.”

“Mmm. Humans going where they shouldn’t.”

There had been an echo, something in the movements of the fake, that was terrifyingly familiar. It had been years since the battle with the Golden Ones, but the wounds still ached, and he remembered the odd cadence of their call.

He shook his head, pushing it to the back of his mind. They were dead, and while there was a familiar smell on the edge of the wind, leading back to the hole the Fake had crawled out of, he could dig later. Now was for resting.

There was a loud crack, and a shudder ran through his spine.The Grasper and nearby humans froze for a few heartbeats, staring at Surge as he slowly looked back at his dorsal plates.

There was a faint series of snaps as, slowly, the central plate between his shoulders leaned to the side and broke under its own weight. The way the broken plate skidded off his hide to land in the dirt was almost comically slow, everyone watching with wide eyes.

Surge wrinkled his nose and sighed.

The Grasper had wide eyes, looking between Surge and the broken plate. “Are you . . . that’s not your spine, right?”

“No, no,” Surge said, slowly reaching for the plate. “A plate, like a claw.” The tips of his fingers just brushed the bit of fallen plate, his joints aching with the strain. He grumbled at the pain and just let himself flop in the dirt, unwilling to move further.

It lasts through the Golden Ones, the Grasper, and the Fake, but breaks under little more than a sneeze.

Hopefully his next bout (for there was always another) would be many years from now. If all his dorsal plates were this unstable, it wouldn’t take much more for him to be shatter-backed, and his fire would hurt him more than his opponents.

The plate scooted closer, seemingly of its own will. He raised his head, and saw the bone-tip of the Grasper’s axe prodding the bit of plate closer to his hand. Hesitantly, he reached out and dug the tips of his claws into the plate, dragging it to his chest. The axe handle withdrew, and Surge looked at his companion.

The Grasper moved with slow caution as he set the axe down, wincing as he resumed his seat against the ruined building. Surge gave a slow nod and turned his attention to the plate under his claws.

It was dead, the channel to his fire severed. All that remained was dead bone and stone-hard keratin. With a snort he fiddled with it between his claws, examining the base and the cracks that ran through it like spiderweb. He gave the broken base a sniff, looking for the tell-tale ozone scent that would indicate a nerve had been pulled free and needed eating. The only scent was of old stone, steadily cooling in the absence of his body heat. 

For a moment he just held the plate, considering. It was of no use to him, and he doubted the humans would try to scavenge this small piece of him. They weren’t reverent, not like the First Peoples. This was just a lump of organic matter, lacking his own radiation, unconnected to his fire. 

He shoved the plate under some nearby rubble with a muttered grumble. The plate could be dealt with later. Maybe he could give it to Mothra when her hatching-time came.

“You . . . are alright, yes? Your back isn’t broken?”

The Grasper sounded genuinely worried, and Surge held back an amused chuff. Instead he rolled his eyes. “I’m as healthy as the day I hatched, Grasper.” That’s a lie, but I won’t tell him that. “I don’t need your concern.”

He frowned. “Fine. Just don’t die nearby. I don’t want to deal with whatever your carcass attracts.”

Ah, he has a bit of bite to him! “Whatever you say, Grasper.”

“My name is Kong,” the Grasper rumbled, showing the tips of his fangs. “Not Grasper.”

He shot Kong a strange look. “A Grasper is what you are, what your people are called.” 

“. . . oh.” A sad look crossed the Titan’s face. 

Surge snorted and gave a little shake, the patch between his shoulders feeling bare. “I thought the Graspers had all died. I was surprised to see you.”

“I’m the only one I know.”

There was a sadness to the words, some bone-deep ache that had made its home in Kong. It was achingly familiar.

The one time Surge had gone to the First Islands after the others of his species had died, there had just been the crawlers and small groups of humans. He thought the Graspers long dead, and had never returned. What was one more lost people, one more song for the world to whisper in mourning? He had his own song, and had been unwilling to take on another.

“I have a lot of names,” he said, the words almost hesitant. “But you can call me Surge.”

It was two nights after the defeat of the not-Titan, and the sky was clear. Without the glare of lights from the city, the stars were vibrant, flickering points in a beautiful, swirling void. The Riverway was faint, but the stream of stars was visible to the bare eye.

Surge sighed and listed to the side, comfortably resting. It was the second night since the not-death of the Fake, and he could feel his body finally starting to heal, the aches less sharp, his gills not shrieking with every movement of his head. Kong was likewise healing, though he still moved slowly and, sometimes, rubbed his chest with a furrow between his eyes.

He turned from the sky to look at his companion. Kong’s eyes were gentle, and there was a faint smile on his face as he looked at the stars..

Surge sighed and looked at the earth beneath his claws. It felt wrong to spoil the gentle evening, even if they weren’t friends, but there were words to be said. “I . . . don’t attack, unless I have to.”

He felt Kong stiffen beside him. “What?” 

“Sush and let me finish.” He wrinkled his nose, tail tip twitching in the rubble. “Humans have tried to kill me, in the past.” He looked up at the stars, trying to push back the memory of his blood boiling under his skin, every breath drawing more poison into his body, his heart shuddering as it suffocated. “Came pretty close, too.”

“What does any of that have to do with me?” There was a faint snarl in Kong’s voice.

Surge looked to the side and met the Grasper’s eyes. Suddenly he felt very, very tired, his bones trying to sink through his hide and into the earth. Kong’s expression gentled, lips falling over his fangs. 

“It had nothing to do with you.” He looked back over the ocean, watching the gentle waves and the rippling starlight. “I could tell that there was something to do with a titan, or something like it, and the humans were involved. When they brought you on the water, I thought you were what they’d found to kill me.”

A wave splashed over the edge of the platform, and a faint drizzle settled on his nose. He sighed at the familiar scent of warm salt. “I was wrong to attack you. I apologize.”

Kong was silent for a moment, but he could feel the weight of brown eyes. Then, “You nearly killed me.”

“Yes.”

“But you stopped. Why?”

Surge arched his neck, feeling the stretch and some pops through his spine. “It . . . you were beaten, and no threat. Killing wasn’t necessary.”

“That’s not what your eyes said.” There was a note of admonishment in Kong’s voice. 

He could still feel the sensation of the Grasper’s chest shuddering under his foot, his heartbeat struck out of rhythm. He remembered the panic and fear and anger in his brown eyes. 

Surge snorted and shook his head in irritation, grumbling under his breath.

“What?”

He sighed and looked back at the stars. “The world would have been lesser without you.” There was a moment of silence, and something heavy grew on his heart. “Our peoples were many things to each other, over many many stretches of time. It felt wrong to end everything there.”

He didn’t look back at Kong, didn’t see the gentle expression and growing understanding. 

Something warm gently pushed at his shoulder, and he looked to the side just in time to see Kong’s hand retreating, a smile on the Grasper’s face. He wrinkled his snout. “What?”

“That was kind of you.”

He snorted and shook his head, looking to the side. “Don’t expect me to be kind again, Grasper.”

“Whatever you say, Surge.”

A rumble of a growl built in his chest. He huffed and looked away, the tip of his tail twitching in the dirt.

Arrogant young fool.

It was hard to ignore the way his chest warmed at Kong’s words. It was nice to be trusted, even if it felt undeserved.

The pair were quiet for a time. Kong leaned over and scooped a handful of water from the ocean, slowly cleaning blood and grime from his forearms. The rhythmic waves and gentle splashing calmed his irritation, and he found himself starting to drift towards sleep.

Suddenly Kong spoke. “The humans don’t want to kill you.”

Surge snorted awake from his half-doze and nearly laughed, only stopping when the rumble in his throat pulled at his healing neck. He settled for a barking cough. 

Kong frowned. “I’m serious.”

He snorted. “Are you blind? You saw what that false Titan looked like.” He jerked his head toward the metallic wreckage, growing smaller by the day as humans salvaged what they wanted. “They were trying to kill me, and had something replace me.”

“That doesn’t apply to them all,” Kong said, waving his hand back and forth. “I only helped you because a human asked me too. Without her, you’d be rotting by now.”

Surge bared his teeth, but there wasn’t any anger behind it. For a moment he felt a faint brush of warmth along the forefront of his snout, the forerunner to an explosion of life. 

He sighed and rested his jaw on the earth. “I know. Some are . . . kind. But they are few, and far between.”

“Some are cruel and greedy, yes. But I think you’d be surprised.”

He shot Kong a look. “I have lived a very long time. I doubt there’s anything they could do that would make me reconsider my opinion.”

Kong twisted his face in a wry smile and ran his hand down his forearm, brushing away dirtied water.

Surge nearly fell back into watching the stars, sleep pulling at his eyelids, but then something in Kong’s words finally caught his attention. He snapped his head back to his companion, eyes going wide.

“You shared words with a human?”

Jia came to visit him that night, after Surge had fallen into a deep sleep, head tucked close to his chest and breaths slow.

She climbed up the hair that grew from the back of his hand and neatly dropped into his waiting palm. He shifted her to his knee, watching her closely in case she fell.

He lifted his hands and signed, “[Hello, little one.]”

She grinned and flopped on her belly, trying her best to give his knee a hug. He gave a quiet chuff of laughter. Jia turned to her back and signed back, “[Hi, friend.]” She patted his knee. “[How do you feel?]”

“[I am healing.]”

She smiled. “[I’m glad!]” Her face crumpled a bit, eyes clenching shut. Kong let out a comforting rumble and rested his hand close to her. Jia leaned against his broad fingers, pressing her body into a giant knuckle. “[I was so worried,”] she signed, hands loose with emotion. Her body shuddered, and Kong sighed.

A gentle movement of his fingers had Jia looking up at him, and he could see faint glimmers of tears in the corners of her eyes. “[Your heart,”] she signed, sniffing and swallowing, “[I could feel it stopping.]”

Oh, little one. I’m so sorry.

He pulled his hand away to sign, clearly and confidently. “[I am here, little Jia. I won’t leave you again.]”

She shook her head. “[You can’t promise that.]”

“[Maybe. But I can be careful, and smart, and strong.]” He gently brushed the tip of his finger across the top of her head, mussing her hair. “[Trust me.]”

Jia eyed him, something deep in her small face, and nodded slowly. “[Okay. Just be careful. I don’t want to lose anyone else.]”

Kong didn’t reply beyond a nod and resting his hand next to her again, letting her lean against his palm. Her small hands pressed around his wrist until she found the steady thump-thump of his pulse. She pushed her back into it and looked up at him, giving a tiny wave. She still seemed sad, but more settled now than before.

He gave a happy rumble, still quiet to keep from waking Surge. He could feel Jia gently tugging on the hair that lined his legs, winding it into coarse braids that popped out of place the moment she let go of the strands.

It was a game she’d taken up during the days of the storm, when she’d been sheltered in his hands, crusted blood around her ears and shivering from the wet. For lack of anything to do (after all, she was a child, and thus extremely capable at finding something to entertain herself with), she’d started fiddling with his hair, tugging it into braids and plaits and some of the styles of the Iwi people. 

It was nice to feel the gentle tugs on his skin, a small reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Jia smiled as another of her braids slid from the pattern she’d wove and rested her hands on her knees. Across from the pair, Surge rumbled in his sleep and curled his tail tighter around his body.

His small companion lost the happy look on her face, a frown around the corners of her mouth as she turned to sign, “[Is he bothering you?]”

“[No. We . . .]” Kong paused in thought. Across from him, the swimmer sighed in his sleep and the muscle under his eye twitched. “[We have an understanding. All is well]”

Jia stuck her tongue out at the sleeping giant and Kong chuckled. She turned back to him with a small scowl on her face. [“He’s mean. He didn’t have to fight you.]”

He appreciated her spunk, and she wasn’t necessarily wrong, but . . . 

[“He was afraid, Jia.”]

She gave him an incredulous look.

[“Humans have been unkind to him in the past,”] he signed, heart growing heavy. [“When he saw me with them, he thought we all planned to kill him.]”

Jia blinked slowly. “[Oh.]” She turned to look at Surge, and he could tell she was thinking hard. “[He’s still a jerk.]”

He gave a breathy laugh. “[He is very grumpy.]”

“[Grumpy old lizard,]” Jia signed back, the corners of her mouth lifting up in a smile. She leaned her head against his knee, looking up at the stars. “[I’m glad he helped you, though.]”

“[Me too. It took both of us.]”

She nodded at his words. A moment later and she raised her hands. “[Do you think . . .]” Her fingers stilled, hands wavering by her chest as she thought.

“[Yes, Jia?]”

The young girl shook her head and looked to the side, over the flickering lights of the human city. “[Nevermind.]”

Kong tilted his head to the side. It was unlike Jia to leave her words unfinished. She was determined and strong, and held fast to what she thought. He gently brushed his finger against her shoulder and signed as she looked up at him.

“[Tell me, please?]”

Jia bit her lower lip. Then, in a rush, she asked, “[Could you two be friends?]” Before Kong could reply, Jia shook her head and signed quickly. “[I know he’s grumpy, and really hurt you, but . . .]” Her hands stalled, once more hovering in midair, uncertain.

He blinked. Friends?

The swimmer had certainly become more tolerable after the destruction of the Fake, once he knew Kong wasn’t going to try and kill him. He could even say they’d shared a moment or two, from their talk just hours earlier. Kong had enjoyed the conversation, especially once he’d learned that it was uncommon for humans to talk with Titans. Surge’s face had been funny when Kong described the hand-language he used to talk with Jia.

But friends?

With a jolt, he realized he had yet to answer Jia’s question. “[I . . . do not know. He is better now, when he is not fighting. Less angry.]”

She nodded, a concerned look on her face. “[I’m sorry,]” she signed. “[Did I upset you?]”

“[Never, little one,]” he signed back quickly. “[I’m just curious about why you asked.]”

Jia curled her knees to her chest, signing around her legs. “[I worry about you, sometimes. That you’re lonely. I know you miss your family.]”

He watched as Jia parsed through what she wanted to say, the familiar ache of his dead family prodding the back of his heart.

“[And I know you have me, and Ilene, but maybe having some big friends would be good too?]” She looked up at him, a wrinkle between her brows. “[Someone who could be there for you, in ways I can’t.]”

Kong paused before signing back, “[Not your fault you’re small.]”

Jia laughed, a bright happy sound. It was nice to see the set of her shoulders relax. She pushed at his knee and grinned. “[That’s not what I mean, and you know it!]”

He just smiled. 

There was a human shout from nearby, and he saw Ilene waving at Jia from a small heap of rubble. Even from a distance he could see the tension in the human’s body, and the frantic way she was waving. 

He signed to Jia, “[I think it is time for you to go back, Jia. Sleep. It is late.]”

For a moment she crossed her arms and leaned in on herself, but then she patted his hand. He let her climb into his palm and he lowered her to the ground, moving slowly to keep from toppling her over.

“[Thank you,]” she signed once she was safely on a bare patch of earth. “[I’ll try to sneak away again and see you soon.]” She stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “[Ilene doesn’t want me wandering around.]”

“[She wants you safe.]” Kong gave her a stern look, though he was happy at the thought of Jia visiting him again. “[Goodnight, little Jia.]”

She grinned and signed back, “[Goodnight, Kong.]”

She scrabbled over the rubble, Ilene calling out in surprise as the young girl effortlessly crawled and jumped over the ruin. Kong smiled and settled back against his destroyed building, propping his arm up on his knee. He turned to look at Surge, still deep asleep. The stars were cycling overhead, and the waves were gentle.

Surge ducked his head under the surface of the water, cleaning his face now that his gills were nearly healed. Kong watched as rivulets ran down the titan’s face, trailing along old scars and dripping across patterned skin. 

He gave a laugh when Surge snorted, sending a spray of water into the air. “You are feeling better, then?”

The swimmer shot him a look. “Do you enjoy being covered in crusted blood?”

“Eugh, no. It itches.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Just seems that you’re healing, is all.”

Surge blinked slowly. “You as well.”

Kong shrugged. He’d always been a quick healer, usually from necessity. It was odd in a nice way to be able to just rest after a fight, not needing to worry that the scent of his injury would attract others trying to take a chunk out of his skin.

There was a scrabbling sound down by his foot and he looked down, seeing Jia give a small wave at him. He grinned and waved back. Ilene was nowhere to be seen, which meant Jia had snuck away. One part of him was honored by her efforts, while the other sighed at her dismissiveness of danger. 

Still, he signed, “[Hello.]”

Jia nodded her head in greeting and started climbing his leg, using his hair as handholds as she crawled her way up onto his thigh. She was breathing hard and flopped on her belly once she reached the top, stretching her arms out in front of her as she rested.

He grinned. “[Tired, little one?]”

Her hands raised above her head, she signed, “[So big. Big leg.]”

Kong snorted a laugh, careful not to bounce Jia free from her hard-won perch. Surge looked over at the noise, and noticed the small human on Kong’s leg.

“Is that her? Your friend?”

“Yes,” Kong said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice. “She is called Jia.”

“So small,” Surge whispered, slowly moving toward Jia on all fours before pausing and looking up at Kong. “May I?”

He narrowed his eyes. The swimmer seemed gentle, and he asked before he acted. Still, it wasn’t his decision to make. He looked to Jia, who was slowly backing away from the swimmer along his thigh, and he snorted to get her attention.

“[He wants to say hello,]” Kong signed.

Jia looked from him to Surge and back again, a small furrow on her small face. “[Okay.]” She hesitated a moment, then signed, “[Only if he’s nice. And if you hold me, please.]”

He rumbled a laugh and held still as Jia climbed onto his hand, her small fingers finding the creases in his skin to haul herself up. She crouched in the middle of his palm, prepared for movement. Kong raised his hand slowly, until his small friend could see eye-to-eye with the swimmer.

Surge leaned forward until his snout was nearly touching Jia. The old Titan took a deep breath in and Jia squeaked, falling forward and grabbing onto the mainline of Kong’s palm.

There was a smile on Surge’s face as he slowly breathed back out, giving Jia the chance to share breath with him. It took her a moment to realize what was happening, an accepting look on her face as she closed her eyes and breathed in.

Kong admired her restraint in not flinching. Surge’s breath smelled like old fish and whale fat, with an edge of sweet ozone and salt. His teeth were very close to Jia, he realized with a muffled jolt, but the worry was small and short-lived.

“Well met and thank you, little Titan Heart,” Surge rumbled. There was a purr in his throat, deep enough for Jia to feel even if she couldn’t hear the rumble.

Surge rested his jaw on the edge of Kong’s hand, golden eyes half-lidded and gentle, and Jia took a small step forward. She reached out, hesitantly, and rested her palm against his snout. Surge closed his eyes and gave a content sigh before slowly pulling away, Jia’s hand falling from his skin. Her eyes were wide, and she was staring at her hand as Surge looked into Kong’s face.

“She’s a good pup,” he said, something happy in his voice. Kong couldn’t help but feel proud.

A shiver ran through Surge’s body. “I’m going over to the mountain,” Surge rumbled, eyes gentle as they flicked back to Jia. “There’s an odd scent I want to track.”

Kong raised one brow. “You’re not going to hurt the humans?”

He shrugged. “As long as they don’t shoot at me or get in my way.” At Kong’s look he snorted. “It’s hard to see them sometimes, all the way down at my feet.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just be careful. The humans around now are the good kind.”

Surge snorted, stood fully upright, and started walking, only slightly limping on his wounded thigh. Kong watched him go, noticing the careful way the simmer stepped around the larger piles of rubble - still swarming with humans -  and avoided the tented areas.

A small poke at the base of his thumb brought his attention back to Jia.

“[What did he say?]” she asked, still holding her hand strangely, as though there was something untouchable and important that she didn’t want to get rid of.

Kong signed as best he could with one hand. “[He greeted you, and gave you a name.]”

Her eyebrows quirked. “[I already have a name.]”

Kong chuffed out a laugh and had to take a moment to breathe. A grin still on his face, he lowered Jia back to his knee to free up both his hands. “[More like a title, maybe.]”

“[What? Why?]”

He paused for a moment to think. His hands hovered in the air before he found the words he wanted. “[He knows you asked me to help him. He was thankful.]”

“[But you’re the one who actually helped him. I didn’t do anything.]”

He gave a knowing smile. “[I don’t think I would have helped him if you hadn’t asked, little Jia.]”

She just looked at him, a slight tilt to one of her eyebrows. “[If you say so.]”

For a moment neither of them said a word, watching as Surge started moving up the mountainside and stuck his head into the gaping hole the Fake had left behind. Kong could hear humans yelling and shouting, running away from the swimmer as he slowly crawled further into the opening, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth through the air as he searched.

Jia tapped his knee and he looked down. There was a curious look to her face as she signed, “[What did he call me?]”

“[Titan Heart,]” Kong said, trying not to swell too much with pride.

Jia’s eyes went wide and she grinned. “[That feels like an honor.]”

“[Even coming from a grumpy old lizard?]” He couldn’t resist poking some fun at her, and he smiled as her face scrunched in mock offense and she pushed against his knee.

She stuck her tongue out at him and signed, “[I suppose.]”

Kong laughed and mussed her hair with his fingertip.

There was a skidding sound from the mountain and the pair turned. Surge was slowly backing out of the hole the Fake had crawled out of, something bone-white clenched in his jaws. Once he was free of the pit he canted his head back, and a loud crack echoed through the air. The thing in his jaws, now a mangled mess, seemed to screech in protest. 

There was a faint humm and Kong lifted his hand to shield Jia’s eyes from the growing glow crawling up Surge’s back. The glow seemed to shudder briefly when it reached the broken plate between Surge’s shoulder blades, but it jumped past the break and spilled from the swimmer’s mouth and into the sky with a warbling, low-pitched scream. 

The thing in his jaws melted to ash, and Kong nodded in satisfaction. Something felt right, now, like the earth was spinning easier.

Jia plopped into a sit on his knee, still holding her hand oddly. 

Surge snorted as his head cleared the surface, flaring his gills to clear them of muck and crusted blood. Kong didn’t jump at the noise, only rolling his eyes and slowly looking over the city. Slowly, a path had been cleared through the rubble to the pit Surge had blasted through the upper crust of the earth.

Kong was leaving.

Surge rested his upper body on the human-shorline, his legs and tail still hidden under the surface.

“So, you’re going back to the Inner Shell?”

“Yes,” Kong said, cleaning some rubble from between the edges of his axe.

“Why not the First Islands?”

He shook his head. “They were damaged in the storm. They will heal, but I need more than they can provide right now.”

Surge nodded and sighed. 

He wasn’t looking forward to being alone, again. There were the others, of course, Nautilus to the north, and young Chireet, and those of the mountains. But they could be hard to reach, and didn’t understand him and what he’d endured with the Golden Ones, and during his ages of wakefulness while the others had slept. Mothra would understand, but she was still egg-bound. 

It was nice to have Kong around.

Something must have shown on his face. Kong prodded his shoulder with the handle-tip of his axe and grinned. “Don’t get too lonely without me, grumpy swimmer.”

He bared his teeth, but there wasn’t any bite behind them.

Kong smiled and turned back to his axe. “Can you get to . . . the Inner Shell, you called it? The place below this one?”

He sighed. “I can, but the oceans there aren’t much more than glorified puddles.”

And now that humans are there, too, it’s best if I avoid going there.

Surge pulled himself from the ocean and stood in a stretch, fully healed and strong. He turned to a nearby pile of rubble (drenched with the water displacement of his movement) and dug until he found his broken plate. Picking it up with his teeth, he turned and unceremoniously dropped it at Kong’s feet.

The Grasper looked at it with wide eyes, hands stilling even as they held tight to his axe.

He snorted and looked out over the ocean. “The Graspers I knew before the Sleep were crafters, architects. They could make things with their hands. You’ll find more use for this,” he pushed the plate with his toes, “than I will.” 

Kong blinked and, setting his axe to the side, carefully picked up the plate. It was larger than the old plate that made up the blade of his axe, but looked ungainly in his hands, needing some careful work to make it into something usable.

He gave Surge a look, thumbing over a spike as he said, “Thank you.”

Surge snorted. “It might be unstable. If it broke from my back, there’s no telling how deep the damage goes. Don’t do anything stupid with it until you know.”

Kong rolled his eyes. “I’m not a child, Surge.” 

“I know, but . . .” He wrinkled his snout and bit off his words. 

It had been so long since he’d been around, well, not a pup exactly, but someone he could keep an eye on. Someone he could watch out for. Not that Kong necessarily needed it (his collection of scars and battle prowess proved that he didn’t), but he wanted to give the Grasper every opportunity he could, all the knowledge he could. He hadn’t been a teacher for centuries, but the instinct was still there.

Kong seemed to pick some of his thoughts up. The Grasper stood and slowly reached out, resting one hand on Surge’s shoulder. “I will be well, swimmer. I grew up on the First Islands. And,” a coy gleam entered his brown eyes, “I’m the one who helped you, remember? I should be concerned about you biting off more than you can handle.”

Surge chuffed out a grumble and shook his head, dislodging Kong’s warm hand. “Arrogant youngster,” he mumbled, and Kong laughed.

The pair looked over the city, where the humans were already starting to rebuild. There was something almost admirable in how they could bounce back. Nobody had moved into the pathway to the pit, though, and Kong nodded as he shouldered his axe and gripped Surge’s plate with his free hand. 

Surge spoke before he could think. “You should come back to the Upper Shell, sometime.”

Kong turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said, resisting the urge to shuffle his feet. “She’s kind, and smart. She has a long memory, and could tell you more about your people. I’ve . . . forgotten a lot.”

He blinked. “Alright. I will.”

“She’s egg-bound now, but should emerge in the next few years.”

The Grasper nodded. “It sounds like she’s someone I’d like to meet.” He grinned. “As long as she doesn’t introduce herself like you, though.”

Surge rumbled a hiss and turned his back, flicking Kong on the shoulder with his tail as he moved back into the water. The ocean was warm in the shallows, and as he slid forward through the waves, pulling himself forward with his hands, he felt content.

A deep voice yelled at him. “Swim deep, Surge!”

He turned his head to see Kong holding his axe high on the shoreline, a grin on the Grasper’s gentle face. Surge couldn’t resist roaring back, “Mind your own business!” Then, a moment later, “Watch your back down there!”

Kong gave a knowing grin and turned, slowly picking his way back to the pit and his new home. Surge snorted, sending up a spray of glittering water, and dove under the surface. The noise of the surface faded away in the rush of water and familiar bone-deep rumble of the waves. As he swam deeper, heading for a nearby trench, he couldn’t help but wonder if Kong’s journey was going smoothly, and if he would find a suitable place for his nest.

He swam over the crest of an undersea ridge and decided to stop by the Inner Shell in a few months, just to check up on things. Who knew what mess Kong would need pulled out of, after all.