After Ultraman Tiga carried Saki away into the star-filled cosmos, Camearra remained standing beneath the streetlamp, watching the entire reunion unfold with a gentle smile that transformed her already beautiful features into something luminous. The sight of two lost souls finding their way home together stirred something deep within her ancient heart.
When Tiga dissolved into particles of light that scattered like golden snow before reforming into Daigo's familiar human shape, she felt her breath catch. This transformation had been different from their first violent encounter—gentler somehow, filled with purpose rather than desperation.
"Daigo, welcome back," she said softly, stepping forward to embrace him before conscious thought could intervene.
The sudden contact made Daigo stiffen with surprise, though he made no move to pull away. Her arms felt warm and solid around him, a reminder that despite everything supernatural about their situation, the emotions between them remained startlingly human.
After holding him for what felt like both forever and not nearly long enough, Camearra suddenly became aware of her own boldness. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized how forward she must seem—thirty million years of imprisonment hadn't exactly provided opportunities to practice normal relationship dynamics.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, stepping back with downcast eyes. "I didn't mean to be so... forward."
"It's okay," Daigo replied with characteristic awkwardness, scratching the back of his head. "Really, it's fine."
The gesture was so endearingly nervous that Camearra couldn't help but smile despite her embarrassment.
"Are you just getting off work?" Daigo asked, clearly eager to change the subject. "I could walk you home if you'd like."
"I'd like that very much," she replied, perhaps too quickly, but the joy in her voice was impossible to miss.
They fell into step together, their shadows merging and separating under each streetlamp they passed. The evening was peaceful, filled with the gentle sounds of a city settling into night—distant traffic, the hum of air conditioning units, the occasional bark of a neighborhood dog.
Neither of them noticed the figure following at a careful distance, using every stealth technique learned during Defense Team training.
"That sneaky bastard," Shinjo muttered under his breath, maintaining his surveillance from behind parked cars and building corners. "Here I am, nursing a broken heart after Reiko dumped me, and Daigo's been secretly dating some gorgeous woman this whole time!"
The betrayal stung more than he cared to admit. They'd made a pact to suffer through singlehood together—misery loving company and all that. But apparently, Daigo had been holding out on him.
As they walked, Daigo found himself puzzling over Saki's parting words.
"Camearra," he began hesitantly, "when Saki left, she said something about me being as bright as the sun to aliens. Do you know what she meant by that?"
Camearra paused beneath a particularly bright streetlamp, her expression growing thoughtful. "What Saki said was more literal than you might think."
"Literal how?"
"As Ultraman Tiga, you radiate a kind of light that ordinary humans can't perceive," she explained carefully. "But to those with special abilities—aliens, enhanced beings, others like us—you shine like a beacon in the darkness. They can identify you instantly, even in your human form."
Daigo looked up at the streetlamp above them, its harsh fluorescent glow suddenly seeming inadequate compared to the cosmic forces apparently emanating from his very being.
"That could be a real problem," he said with obvious concern. "Is there any way to... I don't know, dim it somehow?"
Camearra's lips curved into a smile that carried hints of mischief—an expression he was seeing more often as she adapted to modern human social dynamics.
"Kiss me and I'll tell you," she said, batting her eyelashes with theatrical innocence.
The request hit Daigo like a physical blow. Where had she learned to flirt like this? The Camearra he'd first met had been all cosmic rage and ancient sorrow. This version, influenced by Japanese television and romantic comedies, was proving far more dangerous to his peace of mind.
"I... that is... where did you even..." he stammered, his face cycling through several shades of red.
"If you don't want to, forget I mentioned it," Camearra said with obvious disappointment, turning as if to continue walking.
"Wait!" The word escaped before he could stop it.
She paused, closing her eyes and tilting her face toward his with expectant patience. Her expression was so hopeful, so vulnerable despite her cosmic power, that his resolve crumbled entirely.
Daigo glanced around nervously, confirming they were alone on the quiet residential street. Then, gathering what remained of his courage, he leaned forward and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek.
The contact lasted only a moment, but it left both of them transformed. Daigo's face burned with embarrassment and something deeper, while Camearra stood perfectly still, as if trying to memorize every detail of the sensation.
From his hiding spot behind a delivery van, Shinjo watched the romantic scene unfold with mounting outrage.
"Show-off!" he hissed, his jealousy reaching dangerous levels. "How does that awkward disaster of a pilot end up with someone who looks like a movie star? What kind of injustice is this?"
Oblivious to their audience, Camearra opened her eyes and smiled with radiant happiness.
"To answer your question," she said, her voice carrying new warmth, "you need to learn to control your power more precisely. Instead of letting your light radiate freely, you can contain it within yourself through focused meditation and energy manipulation."
"Control my power?" Daigo repeated, still recovering from the kiss.
"Yes, but it requires extensive practice," she warned. "This isn't something you can master overnight. Whenever you have free time, I could... help train you. If you'd like."
The offer was delivered with careful casualness, though her hope was impossible to miss.
"That would be helpful," Daigo agreed, his practical nature overriding his romantic confusion. "Thank you."
They resumed walking toward her apartment building, the atmosphere between them charged with new possibilities.
Behind them, Shinjo continued his surveillance mission, his internal monologue growing increasingly dramatic.
"This is unbearable," he muttered. "First, he gets to be humanity's secret guardian. Now he's got a girlfriend who could be a fashion model. Meanwhile, I can't even keep a date interested past the appetizer course. Life is unfair."
When they reached Camearra's building, Daigo stopped at the entrance like a gentleman.
"I'll leave you here," he said, though something in his expression suggested he wasn't entirely ready to end their evening together.
Camearra recognized the moment for what it was—a chance to push boundaries just a little further.
"Before you go," she said softly, "could you... hold me? Just for a moment?"
After the kiss they'd already shared, a simple embrace seemed almost conservative by comparison. Daigo nodded and opened his arms, allowing her to step into his warmth.
The hug lasted longer than the kiss, filled with the kind of comfortable intimacy that spoke of deeper connections forming beneath their unusual circumstances. When they finally separated, both seemed reluctant to break the contact entirely.
"Goodnight, Daigo," Camearra said, her voice carrying notes of contentment he'd never heard before.
"Goodnight, Camearra," he replied, watching until she disappeared safely into the building.
Only then did he remember to check his PDI communicator—and immediately wished he hadn't. The device's screen was filled with increasingly urgent messages from Vice-Captain Kojiro, each timestamp showing how long he'd been out of contact.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no," he muttered, his romantic mood evaporating as professional panic set in. "I'm dead. I'm so incredibly dead."
From his observation post, Shinjo watched Daigo's expression shift from blissful contentment to absolute terror, and felt his first moment of satisfaction all evening.
"Finally," he said with vindictive pleasure. "Karma strikes back."
Daigo took off running with more speed than Shinjo had ever seen him display, his desperation lending wings to his feet as he raced toward the rendezvous point where his teammates were undoubtedly wondering what had happened to him.
At the designated meeting area, Vice-Captain Kojiro was checking his watch with growing concern while pacing in small, agitated circles. When Daigo failed to respond to communications after Tiga's departure, the logical assumption was that something had gone wrong—equipment failure, civilian emergency, possible injury or worse.
"Command! Command!" Daigo's voice carried across the empty lot as he approached at a dead sprint, waving his arms to signal his presence.
"Where have you been?" Kojiro demanded, his relief quickly giving way to irritation. "I've been trying to reach you for twenty minutes!"
"I'm so sorry," Daigo gasped, still catching his breath from his sprint. "There was a problem with my PDI—it wasn't receiving messages properly. Technical malfunction."
Kojiro's expression suggested he found the excuse somewhat suspicious, but chose not to pursue the matter in favor of practical concerns.
"Well, you're here now," he said curtly, reaching for his own communicator. "I'll notify the others that you've been located and they can return to base."
During the drive back to headquarters, Daigo became increasingly aware that Shinjo was staring at him with an intensity that bordered on predatory.
"Is there something on my face?" he asked finally, unsettled by the scrutiny.
"Nothing at all," Shinjo replied with a smile that somehow managed to be both innocent and threatening. "Nothing at all, my friend."
But the way he emphasized 'friend' suggested that Daigo's secrets—whatever Shinjo thought they might be—would not remain hidden for much longer.
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