The morning sun streamed through Jun's dining room windows, casting warm golden light across the breakfast table. Gustave nearly choked on his coffee witnessing the remarkable transformation before him—Tu Shanyan and Camearra, who'd been engaged in subtle territorial warfare just twelve hours earlier, now whispered together like childhood confidantes.
"Really? Tell me more about the cultivation realms!" Camearra leaned closer, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"Well, after Foundation Establishment comes Core Formation..." Tu Shanyan murmured conspiratorially, their heads nearly touching as they exchanged cosmic secrets.
Both women dissolved into shared laughter, leaving the three men to exchange bewildered glances over their breakfast plates.
"The speed of female bonding defies all logical explanation," Jun observed quietly, shaking his head with bemused affection.
After the meal, Camearra rose with predatory grace. "Sister Tu Shanyan, shall we explore this world's fashion districts? I know the most wonderful boutiques."
"Actually," Tu Shanyan said, turning toward Gustave with hopeful eyes, "could you lend me some money? Sister Camearra wants to show me human clothing stores, but I don't possess this world's currency."
Originally, Camearra had offered to cover all expenses, but Tu Shanyan's pride rebelled against accepting such generosity from someone she'd just met—even someone 30 million years her senior.
Gustave opened his mouth to negotiate terms. Interest rates, repayment schedules, collateral agreements—his merchant instincts awakened with predatory enthusiasm. Perhaps 90% principal with 130% repayment...
Then Camearra's gaze locked onto his. Not threatening, exactly, but carrying the patient weight of geological ages and the promise of consequences for unreasonable behavior.
"What borrowing?" Gustave laughed with sudden magnanimity, sweat beading on his forehead. "I burned your sleeve yesterday with my lightning, didn't I? And you fed me when I couldn't move properly! This is simple repayment for your kindness."
"Really?" Tu Shanyan's fox ears flattened skeptically. Past experience suggested Gustave's generosity usually concealed elaborate schemes.
"How could I lie to such a beautiful lady?" Gustave's smile became genuinely warm—partly relief that Camearra's expression had softened, partly appreciation for Tu Shanyan's earnest nature. "Come, let's find a bank immediately and get you properly funded."
"Truly?" Tu Shanyan's face lit up like sunrise, doubt melting into delighted gratitude. "Thank you so much, Gustave!"
The expedition to the bank became a full group affair. Tu Shanyan and Gustave led the procession, while Camearra followed—ostensibly to "supervise" the financial transaction but really to ensure Gustave kept his word. Jun and Daigo trailed behind, cameras ready to capture beautiful moments along the way.
At a branch that accepted international cards, Gustave produced his well-worn JPMorgan Chase card—his passport to dimensional commerce. The ATM dispensed crisp ten-thousand-yen notes with mechanical precision, thirty bills total.
"Here—two million yen," Gustave said, handing over twenty notes while pocketing the remainder. "Unless you're planning to buy houses or luxury cars, this should cover any reasonable shopping expedition."
Tu Shanyan's eyes became perfect circles of wonder as she clutched the money. "Two million! How many bags of potato chips could this buy? How much cola?"
She began calculating furiously, using the vending machine prices from last night as her baseline currency conversion. The mathematical complexity quickly overwhelmed her fox-demon brain, but the conclusion remained clear: This was a fortune beyond imagining.
This fox may be wonderfully naive, but her heart is genuinely pure, Gustave thought, watching her innocent delight with growing fondness.
"Sister Camearra, let's go!" Tu Shanyan practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing toward her new shopping partner. "I want to see everything!"
The two women departed in a whirlwind of animated chatter and swishing fabric, leaving the men to their own devices.
Jun, Daigo, and Gustave made their way to the city's central park, where life bloomed in countless small dramas under the afternoon sun. Unlike the previous night's alien-haunted darkness, daylight revealed a world rich with human connection—elderly couples walking hand-in-hand, children chasing pigeons with delighted squeals, young lovers sharing quiet conversations on weathered benches.
"There," Daigo said softly, his assistant's eye trained to spot perfect moments. "That elderly couple by the fountain."
Gustave followed his gaze to where two silver-haired figures moved in careful synchronization, each supporting the other across uneven paving stones. Age had bent their backs and slowed their steps, but their hands remained clasped with the unshakeable trust of decades together.
When they reached a sun-warmed bench, the woman settled against her husband's shoulder with a contented sigh, eyes closed, face turned toward the light. The man's weathered features softened into an expression of infinite tenderness as he watched over her peaceful rest.
Jun raised his camera with reverent precision. The shutter's whisper captured something precious—not just two people, but love itself made visible through time and devotion.
"Excuse me," Jun approached them with gentle respect after the shot. "I'm a photographer and journalist. I hope you don't mind, but I just captured a photograph of you both."
"A photograph?" The husband blinked in surprise.
Jun showed them the image on his camera's display. In the frame, sunlight painted the woman's serene face with gold while her husband's smile held all the warmth of their shared years. Their intertwined hands spoke of promises kept and storms weathered together—a love story written in silver hair and gentle touches.
"Ah, look—is that really us?" The husband stared in amazement. "We look so..."
"Beautiful," his wife finished, reaching up to touch his cheek with affectionate exasperation. "Of course it's us, you silly old man."
"I'd like to include this photograph in my series called 'Beautiful Moments in Life,'" Jun explained carefully. "But only with your permission. If you'd prefer I delete it, I'll do so immediately."
"Wait—you're the photographer for 'Beautiful Moments in Life'?" The husband's eyes widened with recognition. "Ah wife, it's him! The one whose work we love so much!"
"We're such admirers of your photography," the woman added eagerly. "The stories you tell, the hope you share—they've brought light to many dark days."
What followed was an impromptu interview as the elderly couple shared their own love story—wartime separation, reunion, decades of small joys and quiet struggles, grandchildren who carried their dreams forward. Jun listened with the patient attention that had made him exceptional at his craft, understanding that every beautiful moment rested on foundations of resilience and choice.
Before departing, Jun visited the nearest photo shop to print their picture. His signature on the back transformed it from mere image to treasure—a professional's validation of their enduring love.
"You've become quite the celebrity, Jun," Gustave observed as they continued their walking tour, hands clasped behind his head in relaxed contentment. "Even elderly couples recognize your work."
"In the past, I focused on exposing darkness," Jun replied thoughtfully. "Investigating corruption, revealing hidden truths—important work for a journalist, but..."
His expression grew distant with memory. "After Sera died, I lost myself in guilt and self-recrimination. I have to thank you, Gustave. Watching Tezuka's team play that day, seeing pure joy and determination unmarked by cynicism—it changed my perspective."
Jun's voice carried quiet conviction. "Truth and justice remain vital, but people also need inspiration. They need proof that beauty exists worth protecting, that hope can triumph over despair. My camera can be a weapon against darkness simply by celebrating light."
"I'm honored to have helped," Gustave said warmly. "Though I suspect you would have found your way eventually. Great hearts always do."
"Haha! Don't underestimate your influence, my friend."
The afternoon passed in a steady rhythm of discovery and documentation. Jun's reputation preceded him—nearly every subject agreed enthusiastically when they learned their moment might appear in "Beautiful Moments in Life."
A street musician playing violin for coin-filled hat. Click.
A mother teaching her toddler to feed pigeons, both laughing as birds fluttered around them. Click.
A group of teenagers helping an elderly man carry groceries, their easy camaraderie bridging generations. Click.
By four o'clock, Jun had captured over a dozen perfect moments, each accompanied by personal stories that revealed humanity's quiet heroism. But success brought its own burden—his weekly column could only feature one or two photographs, leaving beautiful stories untold.
"There's a café near the amusement park ahead," Daigo noted, observing Jun's growing frustration with practiced eyes. "Perhaps we should rest and review the day's work?"
"Good idea," Jun agreed, shouldering his camera bag with a rueful smile. "I need to decide which stories deserve spotlight—though abandoning any of them feels like betrayal."
The three men headed toward the park's entrance, where carnival music and children's laughter promised new discoveries. Jun's mission to document beauty had become both blessing and curse—too much wonder for one photographer to contain, yet each captured moment another small victory against the darkness that threatened their world.
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