Chapter Seventeen: My Childhood Self

On the first day of the new era, the sky was dazzlingly bright and blue. In the Shinjuku district, reconstruction was underway with intensity; massive construction machinery lifted steel columns as people rebuilt the homes destroyed by demons.

A female reporter stood before the camera, gave an “OK” gesture, and her clear voice rang out across television screens everywhere.

“The nightmare is over. The scars left by the monsters remain shocking, but what lingers even more in people’s minds is that hero of light—after vanquishing the terrifying demon, he disappeared. Who was he, truly? Will he appear before us once more?”

In front of a giant screen in the commercial heart of the city, countless people had stopped to watch the latest news. Among them, a little girl called out sweetly to her mother, “It was Ultraman who saved me…”

The young mother stroked her daughter’s hair, her gaze filled with affection. In a gentle voice, she replied, “Miku, he saved all of us as well.”

“With hearts full of admiration, the children now call him: Ultraman!” As the reporter’s voice sounded, an image from the Nexter’s battle was frozen on the enormous screen, filling it entirely.

Sara Mizuhara quietly wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes and slowly stepped out from the crowd. She did not know why she was crying—her heart simply ached with sorrow. She opened her wallet, her eyes settling on a small photograph tucked inside. The picture had been taken at the Hyakuri Base; under the golden light of sunset, Tetsuya flashed a charming smile, leaning against his fighter jet, making a “V” sign with his fingers.

“Tetsuya… you… you never kept your promise…”

Somewhere in China, in a small village near the Huai River, blue ion light drifted in on the wind and lingered by the riverbank under the moonlight, slowly coalescing into a black silhouette. Gazing up at the full moon hanging high in the sky, the cool moonbeams, the chorus of insects and birds in the grass—Tetsuya felt peace for the first time. His smile was no longer faint and restrained; here, in this familiar land, he smiled like a child.

This was the land he had never forgotten—the place where he had lived.

Under the bright moon, Tetsuya wandered slowly through the village, like a lone spirit returning home. Looking at the scene before him, it was as if he had returned to his childhood. Back then, he was just a primary school student, with excellent grades—his essays were often read aloud in class by the teachers. He had a cousin, the same age as him, but she was not as bright, frequently punished by the teacher to copy texts. In the evenings, he would sit happily in front of the family’s only television, watching Ultraman Leo and Blue Cat’s Naughty 3000 Questions, while his cousin, copying her lessons, would steal glances at the TV. Those childhood days remained vivid in his memory, but they could never return.

Strolling through the village at night, Tetsuya felt a deep tranquility. He walked to the vicinity of his childhood home, where the lights still shone. A sudden urge came over him—he longed to go inside and see whether the person living there now was the boy he once was. But after hesitating, he stopped. His gaze drifted over the house etched into his memory, yet he dared not step inside. As a child, his parents struggled to make a living in Haizhu City; he lived with his cousin and grandmother. He was afraid—afraid to see strangers instead of his family, and even more afraid of the wary, unfamiliar looks they might give him.

Across from his family’s house was the neighbor’s bungalow. Thanks to his grandmother’s kindness, the two families were close. The neighbors had three daughters and no sons; the youngest, Lin Bingyun, was his best playmate. Many families in the village shared the surname Lin, descendants of those who had fled war in Shandong and settled here.

He lingered, reluctant to leave. To have crossed the strait and returned to his homeland, only to look from afar before departing—it felt too bitter a parting.

“No matter who lives here now… I must see it with my own eyes!”

Resolute, Tetsuya no longer hesitated. He pushed open the door and was greeted by the familiar sight of the courtyard. On the left grew many fruit trees, including two persimmons, and in the center stood a pomegranate tree. Closest to the house, a grapevine climbed the wall. As a child, he would pick pomegranates to eat, and gaze longingly at the unripe grapes, plucking them impatiently while still green and sour, yet delighting in their sharp tang.

The yard was pure black earth, untouched by cement. To the right was a well where his grandmother did the laundry. Whenever the water, rich in phosphorus, was poured out, earthworms of all colors—red and black—would wriggle up from the soil. As a boy, he was fearless, scooping them all into a plastic bottle, dumping them in soapy water, and watching them struggle. Now, the memory made him shudder. Beside the well was a stone staircase leading to the rooftop; at its bend, there was space for a large pig pen. He remembered falling from the stairs into the pen as a child, and how his grandmother had rushed in, screaming, to pull him out from beneath the pigs’ jaws.

Every detail of childhood, every moment of that life, flooded back from the depths of his memory.

“Who are you…?” came a timid voice from behind.

Recognizing the voice, Tetsuya turned and saw himself as a child.

He had been a well-behaved boy, often made to cry by the neighborhood children. He rarely saw his parents, living instead with his cousin and grandmother, so their faces were blurred in his memories, while his bond with his grandmother was profound.

He had always possessed a patient nature, a tendency he noticed even as a child. While other children would cry and clamor for what they wanted, he would quietly smile and refuse, even if he longed for it deep inside. The glowing, beeping toys, the brightly colored clothes—things he had wanted as a child but never owned, not even when grown. He always compromised with life, smiling all the while, from infancy to adulthood, helplessly conceding again and again.

In the moment he saw the young Tetsuya, he understood what he had to do, reading the longing in those youthful eyes. Yes, he needed strength—not just now, but always. Deep within, he had always carried this desire, even as he continually compromised with reality. He had never forgotten.