The expedition team continued its investigation. Chūjō stayed in the grassy
field alone, staring at the tall grass into which the tiny woman and the locals
had disappeared. He brought his hand to his chest over and over, thinking
he might turn on the siren, but each time, he stopped short. If he sounded it,
she’d probably come back. She’d probably look at him again with her
special gaze, which evoked so much strange happiness inside him. . . .
However, the siren would bring his companions running again, and this
time, Nelson might really nab her. Maybe this time, Nelson’s argument that
she was just material to be collected—“a valuable find,” in his words—
might convince the rest of the crew.
Chūjō’s thoughts began to drift. He suspected he’d see her again
somewhere before the investigation was over. If he could just learn her
language, then perhaps he could reach out to her somehow and touch her
heart. He thought about how small and sweet the blood-pumping organ
inside her tiny body must be. It was too small to be caught up in the filth
and corruption of civilization. She was living in a way that had been lost to
him and everyone else who deemed themselves “civilized.” Her emotions
were so pure that she emitted a quiet light. Something in her shone like
a pearl.
Suddenly his daydreaming was cut short. He heard a strange melody
rising somewhere on the island as if responding to him. It was that melody,
her melody. Yes, it was responding to his thought patterns. No doubt about
it. And it kept on going, as if conversing with his thoughts directly.

The Luminous Fairies and
Mothra
A Lovely Song from a Little
Beauty in the Grassland