Ultraman Series · Chat

At 6:17 PM, Daigo Madoka came out of the supermarket, carrying a shopping bag in his left hand and holding a vanilla ice cream cone in his right, taking bites as he walked. He wore a light gray thin jacket, the collar of the white T-shirt underneath slightly wrinkled from washing, his entire body gilded with a warm glow by the setting sun. Someone was sitting on the steps in front of the convenience store. Black hair, red hoodie, an unopened carton of milk on their knees, eyes fixed on the automatic doors opening and closing, as if counting how many people went in and out. Daigo walked over and sat down two steps away from him. Taking a bite of the ice cream, he said indistinctly, "The ice cream at this store is buy one get one half off. Do you want one? I can buy it for you." The young man tilted his head to look at him, his gaze lingering on the ice cream for a moment, then shook his head. "Thanks, I don't really eat sweets." "Then what are you sitting here watching?" Daigo didn't mind. He switched the ice cream to his left hand, pulled a pack of tissues out of the shopping bag with his right, took one out to wipe his fingers, and asked, "Meeting a friend?" "...Not exactly a friend." Daigo didn't press further. He stuffed the tissue back into the bag, leaned back against the railing next to the steps, and looked up at the sky. Today's clouds were beautiful, a thin layer burned into a pale pink by the setting sun, with a hint of grayish-purple peeking through the edges. "I just got off work from TPC," Daigo suddenly spoke up, his tone as casual as chatting about the weather. "It's rare that there's nothing going on in the team today, so I slipped out to buy some groceries. You know, I'm actually quite afraid of those guys calling me back—every time the phone rings, it's never anything good." The young man didn't reply, but he gently squeezed the carton of milk, causing the plastic packaging to make a "snap" sound. Daigo smiled, stuffed the last bite of ice cream into his mouth, crunched the waffle cone, and stood up, clapping his hands. "Alright, I should head back, or the green onions I bought will wilt." He picked up the shopping bag, turned, and took a couple of steps before looking back as if remembering something. "By the way, if the person you're waiting for doesn't show up, you could go sit at the ramen shop down the street. The owner is pretty nice; he'll give you two extra slices of chashu." The young man looked up. The setting sun fell right on the side of his face, making his eyes look very bright in the light, as if something was gently shimmering inside them. "Thank you," he said. Daigo waved his hand and was about to keep walking when the ground beneath his feet suddenly sent up an extremely faint tremor—like a subway train passing, yet deeper and heavier. He instinctively paused and turned to look west. The edge of the clouds that had been burned into pale pink had somehow become seeped with a dark red vein, as if something was churning behind them. The automatic door chimed with a "ding," but no one entered or exited. The young man stood up and put the milk into his hoodie pocket. "...Looks like the person I've been waiting for has arrived," he said. Daigo looked at him, his gaze gradually turning from confusion to a kind of realization. He didn't speak, but simply switched the shopping bag to his other hand, slipping his free right hand into his jacket pocket—his fingertips gently brushing against a cold, diamond-shaped object. His gaze drifted past the young man's shoulder, landing on the dark red that was slowly staining the sky, and then he let out a soft sigh. He spoke, his tone carrying a hint of a young man's characteristic, defiant lightheartedness. "I have to take the green onions home first."