This is Tokyo.
At least, what is left of it.
A once teeming Metropolis now laid waste by the power of a monster. A monster of Humanity's own making.
The Atom-powered behemoth the Japanese call Gojira is gone now, leaving a miles-wide swath of devastation in its wake. The effects of the destructive forces unleashed here are staggering, the toll in human life even more so, lessened only by the incalcuable number of survivors, eyewitnesses still suffering in the aftermath of the assault.
One by one they pull themselves from the rubble. Like a mass of human salvage, linked by their shock, their silence, and their pain. Inexorably they rise and they gather, reaching out to one another, each one of them driven by the same nameless, ancient instinct that tells them it is only by working together that they can survive. A common bond of Brotherhood grows among them now, slowly spreading to take hold of the ruined city.
A bond whose birth is much like that of the Pinecone, germinating only when its forests have all been burned.
This then is the terrible paradox that is Gojira; The destruction the creature wreaks tears down far more than just Mans' cities. The monster's power rips through all facades, internal and external, burning away the layers of edifice and artifice, exposing the pure shining essence of what it means to be truly alive, of what it means to be truly Human.
In this, there is great beauty.
In this, there is hope. . .