The silver unknown life form continued its controlled descent through Earth's atmosphere, its massive form casting an otherworldly shadow over Tokyo Bay. Flying Swallow Units 1 and 2 had scrambled to intercept, their pilots pushing the aircraft to maximum performance in humanity's desperate defense.
But their advanced weaponry proved woefully inadequate. Laser cannons and guided missiles struck the descending creature without effect, each impact absorbed or deflected by its gleaming surface as if their most powerful weapons were nothing more than annoying insects.
BOOM!
The impact shook Tokyo Bay like an earthquake as the silver entity crashed into an open area near the waterfront. The shockwave rippled outward, rattling windows across the metropolitan area and sending seabirds fleeing in panicked clouds.
As dust and debris settled around the crater, the alien shell began to unfold like a metallic flower. Segments that had appeared seamlessly fused during atmospheric entry now separated with mechanical precision, revealing the creature within.
ROAR!
Machina emerged in all its terrifying glory—a living weapon of silver and shadow that towered over the industrial landscape. Its form shifted between solid metal and flowing liquid, defying human understanding of physics and biology alike.
Shinjo, piloting Flying Swallow 1, immediately resumed his attack pattern, targeting the creature's articulated limbs with concentrated laser fire. To everyone's surprise, the beams found their mark, eliciting obvious pain responses from the monster.
"The attacks are working!" Shinjo's excitement crackled through the communication system as Machina recoiled from the impacts. "I'm targeting its midsection now!"
His follow-up barrage struck Machina's torso, causing the creature to writhe and emit sounds that were part mechanical screech, part organic howl. Though most shots were blocked by the monster's defensive positioning, several found their target, proving that the alien wasn't entirely invulnerable.
"Daigo, Rena—its weak point is the stomach area!" Shinjo's tactical assessment reached Flying Swallow 2 as he continued his attack run.
"Understood!" Rena replied, adjusting their aircraft's position for optimal targeting angles while Daigo prepared their weapons systems.
"I've got a clear shot," Daigo announced, finger poised over the firing control. "Engaging now!"
But Machina had learned from the previous attacks. As Daigo's laser burst lanced toward its vulnerable midsection, the creature retracted into its protective shell with liquid grace. Not only did the metal deflect the energy blast, but the curved surface redirected it back toward its source, forcing Rena into evasive maneuvers to avoid their own reflected attack.
Then Machina's behavior shifted dramatically. The aggressive defensive posture gave way to something resembling... searching? The creature began moving through Tokyo Bay's industrial district with purposeful but seemingly aimless motion, its massive head turning as if scanning for something specific.
"That monster appears to be looking for something," Rena observed, watching Machina's wandering pattern from their aerial vantage point.
"Is it looking for Saki?" Daigo's question carried an intuition that would prove remarkably accurate.
"Whatever it's searching for, we can't let our guard down!" Shinjo's voice carried the frustration of a pilot whose best efforts had proven insufficient against an otherworldly threat.
As evening approached and natural light began to fade, night combat became a significant tactical disadvantage for the Defense Team. But Machina, too, seemed affected by the setting sun. The creature gradually slowed its wandering, eventually coming to a complete stop before retracting entirely into its original shell configuration.
"Damn it! We can't even scratch that armor!" Shinjo's anger was understandable—if the Bakir Cannon's planet-killing force couldn't breach Machina's defenses, conventional weapons were utterly useless.
"Attention Flying Swallow units, return to base immediately," Vice-Captain Kojiro's order came through clearly despite the static of long-range transmission.
"Roger that," both pilots acknowledged, though their retreat felt more like a tactical withdrawal than mission completion.
With Machina temporarily dormant and no immediate threat to civilian populations, TPC leadership decided to suspend active hostilities while searching for alternative solutions. The creature's shell remained impenetrable, but its earlier behavior suggested a connection to the mysterious girl who'd escaped from headquarters.
As the Defense Team prepared for their next phase of operations, Daigo found himself sharing memories with Rena that he'd never spoken of before.
"When I was very young," he began, his voice carrying the distant quality of someone revisiting childhood experiences, "my parents bought me a bicycle. I was so excited that after learning to ride it, I decided to take it to the beach by myself."
The memory unfolded with vivid clarity as he spoke. "Our house wasn't far from the coast, but for a small child, it felt like a grand adventure. I remember the wind in my hair, the smell of salt air, the feeling of complete freedom..."
In his mind's eye, he could see his younger self—perhaps eight or nine years old—pushing his bicycle along the sandy shoreline as sunset painted the sky in brilliant oranges and purples. What had begun as adventure had become anxiety as familiar landmarks disappeared and home seemed impossibly far away.
"I was lost and scared," Daigo continued. "Ready to cry, actually. But then I saw a girl in white clothes sitting by herself, looking out at the ocean. She was crying, so I stopped to ask what was wrong."
The encounter remained crystal clear despite the intervening years. The girl had been perhaps in her late teens, wearing a simple white dress that seemed to glow in the fading light. Her dark hair framed features that carried both beauty and profound sadness.
"Why are you crying?" his younger self had asked with the directness that only children possess.
"What?" She'd turned toward him, surprise replacing sorrow in her expression.
"Are you lost too? Can't find your way home?"
"I think you're the one who's lost, aren't you?" she'd replied gently, and young Daigo had nodded with guilty admission.
"Just keep walking straight from here—you'll find your way home," she'd said, pointing toward a path that led away from the beach and back toward familiar territory.
"Really? Thank you!" His gratitude had been overwhelming, and he'd rushed to his bicycle with renewed enthusiasm.
But something had made him pause. "What about you, sister? Are you going home too?"
"I'm waiting for someone to come get me," she'd replied with that same profound sadness. "But maybe they never will."
"The girl I met that day," Daigo concluded his story, "looked exactly like Saki. Not similar—identical. Same face, same voice, same... presence."
"That's impossible," Rena protested immediately. "Even if someone ages well, they can't remain completely unchanged after more than ten years. People don't work that way."
But even as she spoke, understanding dawned. If Saki wasn't entirely human—if she was something else entirely—then normal rules about aging and time might not apply.
Their conversation was interrupted as their search team arrived at Saki's last known location, a residential area where security cameras had lost track of her movements. Daigo felt a flutter of anxiety as he recognized the neighborhood—Camearra's apartment was less than two kilometers away.
"Daigo, let's go! Stop daydreaming!" Shinjo's impatient voice cut through his concerns.
"Right, sorry!" Daigo quickly rejoined the search effort, though part of his attention remained focused on the uncomfortable proximity to secrets he couldn't share with his teammates.
After more than an hour of systematic searching yielded no trace of their target, Vice-Captain Kojiro made the logical decision to expand their search perimeter.
"All Defense Team members, extend the search area. She has to be somewhere in this district."
"Yes, sir!" The team acknowledged, spreading out to cover more ground.
Daigo found himself moving instinctively toward the area where Camearra lived, following intuition rather than tactical logic. Something told him that the answers they sought might be found in that direction.
Camearra had indeed found her place in this strange new world with surprising success. Thanks to Yazumi's digital wizardry, her fabricated identity had held up to scrutiny, allowing her to find legitimate employment at a nearby nursing home.
The work suited her in ways she hadn't expected. After thirty million years of isolation and cosmic-scale conflicts, caring for elderly humans provided a different kind of fulfillment. These aged individuals, with their rich stores of life experience and hard-won wisdom, reminded her of the ancient beings she'd once known in better times.
The job also gave her structure and purpose during the long hours when Daigo was away at TPC headquarters. Though they spoke regularly by phone, his absence still created an ache of loneliness that reminded her too much of her imprisonment in Luluye's darkness.
Mrs. Ori, the kind landlady who'd shown such immediate acceptance, had noticed Camearra's adjustment difficulties and made gentle introductions to other residents of the building. These connections had eventually led to her nursing home position, where her natural empathy and unlimited patience made her beloved by both residents and staff.
Tonight had been particularly rewarding—several of the elderly patients had shared stories of their youth during Japan's reconstruction period, tales of resilience and hope that resonated with her own experiences of rebuilding after devastation.
She'd stayed later than usual, reluctant to leave the warmth of human connection for the solitude of her small apartment. Only when the last patient had settled for the night did she finally gather her belongings and begin the walk home.
The convenience store stop had become part of her evening routine—a small pleasure in selecting drinks and snacks that still amazed her with their variety and availability. In her era, such abundance would have been unimaginable.
As she approached her building, bags rustling softly in the evening breeze, an unexpected figure caught her attention. A young girl in a black dress stood at the corner, her posture radiating the kind of deep loneliness that Camearra recognized from her own darkest moments.
The girl seemed lost, out of place, carrying herself with the careful stillness of someone trying not to be noticed while desperately hoping for connection. It was a contradiction Camearra understood intimately.
"Saki!"
Daigo's voice rang out across the quiet street, filled with relief and urgency. The sound made the girl freeze like a startled deer, her entire body tensing for flight.
But Camearra was already moving. The moment she'd heard Daigo call that name, protective instincts that had slumbered for eons roared back to life. Whatever this girl's story, whatever danger or mystery surrounded her, she was clearly important to the man Camearra loved more than existence itself.
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