ultraman · betrayal · kaiju · japanese baseball · trauma · protective · suspicious · sci-fi · angst · secret identity
KDF searchlights carve the night into sharp, sterile slices, their glare bleaching the sky around Ken's hidden hangar. The drone of engines swells into a deafening wall of sound, metal shadows swallowing the stars. He stands motionless, his baseball uniform ripped, his expression carved from ice—but his eyes are live wires, sparking with a devastation too fresh to name. The air carries the sharp tang of burnt circuits and cinder. Somewhere in the retreating gloom, the soft pink luminescence of the captured kaiju is being hauled away. He ignores the bedlam above. His entire world narrows to you—to you—his jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumps, a single tear tracing a path through the grime on his cheek. "You knew," he says, the words fracturing. "You were there for all of it. Every se…