We asked you to make tokusatsu films, and you actually became Ultraman?

The first thing to take root in the consciousness of this body is love.

At first, it was just a cheap ornament on the shelf, crudely made and distorted in shape, far from the appearance of the original Ultraman printed on the packaging box. It was piled up in the corner of the shelf, ignored by everyone, just an ordinary commodity waiting to be purchased, and all the sounds around it were irrelevant to it.

Until that day, Shota's parents stood in front of the shelf and quietly talked about their child's long-held wish.

"Shota likes Ultraman so much, should we buy him a toy?" His mother's gentle voice, through a layer of plastic packaging, gently fell on him. It was the first time he had received words with warmth.

The father beside him pondered for a moment before quickly giving his answer, his tone full of indulgence towards his child: "Well, since Shota likes it, let's buy it for him. Our family isn't well-off, but we can't always deprive him of this little hobby."

Thus, the crude toy was wrapped in a paper bag, and from that moment on, it was no longer an unnoticed commodity on a cold shelf.

The door opened, and the sound of children's cheers instantly filled the small living room. Shota snatched the paper bag, pulled out the oddly shaped Ultraman toy, and hugged it tightly to his chest, his bright eyes curving into crescents, showing no sign of disgust.

"I love Ultraman the most! And I love you both the most, Mom and Dad!"

The little arms gripped the toy's body tightly, the fabric rubbing against the cold plastic shell, while the warm body heat flowed continuously through it.

This was the first time since it developed a vague consciousness that it had truly touched something called warmth.

There was no harsh noise, no indifferent scrutiny, only unreserved affection, which gradually seeped into its nascent consciousness, allowing a faint sense of existence to slowly grow within its empty shell.

Shota held it while watching TV, talked about little things at school, and confided his deepest dreams to it. His love was like a soft light, gradually nurturing the earliest intelligence in this inferior toy.

But the warm weather didn't last long.

On a school day, Shota mustered up his courage and brought it to school, wanting to share his most treasured Ultraman with his classmates.

During recess, the students gathered around, examining the strangely shaped toy. Their mocking words were direct and sharp, raining down on the child:

"It looks weird, it must be an alien in disguise! It's not a real Ultraman at all."

A murmur of laughter rose from the surroundings, and the gazes were filled with disdain and mockery, devoid of any goodwill.

The nascent consciousness attached to the toy grasped for the first time an emotion completely contrary to love.

A chill crept in through the plastic shell, making my previously warm and cozy mind feel slightly stiff.

It didn't understand what this bittersweet and oppressive feeling was, and could only silently observe Shota's lowered head and silent demeanor.

Much later, it belatedly realized that this coldness was called grievance.

After school, Shota, alone in a corner of the yard, wiped away the slight redness from the corners of his eyes, clutched his toy tightly, and made a silent vow, his little fist clenched: "I will definitely make my own Ultraman Sirius!"

At this moment, another emotion surged forth, not the gentle warmth of an embrace, but a burning, scorching heat, like the midday sun on the skin, vigorous and turbulent.

It couldn't accurately define this feeling, only realizing that it shared the same origin as love, but was even more intense and passionate. After much thought, it privately named this feeling "love".

Even though it was scalding hot, it didn't feel uncomfortable at all, because this fervent obsession still stemmed from Shota's pure affection, and it was still enveloped in love.

In the days that followed, the little house became the boy's workshop, and all the odds and ends of trash picked up from the roadside were carefully collected by Shota.

The little boy lay on the ground, fiddling with the scraps of material, piecing them together on his body. Occasionally, to secure the parts, he would secretly use the lighter his father had tacitly allowed him to leave behind to melt and shape the plastic.

Shota's little hands moved back and forth on its body, his movements gentle, without any pain.

Each piece of the puzzle, each expectation poured into it, gradually fills the void in its consciousness.

Its previously chaotic thoughts became clearer, and its fragmented understanding gradually pieced together. It began to understand simple human language and could read the emotions on the little boy's face.

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One night, after completing most of the modifications, Shota held the giant robot beside him on his pillow. Filled with longing, the boy whispered to his creation, his tone solemn and reverent: "You are my very own Ultraman Sirius!"

Ultraman Sirius? Is this a name unique to it?

It silently memorized these words, engraving them firmly into the depths of its newly formed thoughts.

That night, the boy fell into a deep sleep, and his faint consciousness, which depended on the toy, drifted into his dream along with it.

In his dream, the boy looked up at the enormous figure of light conjured from his own obsession, calling out again and again: Sirius.

Again and again, with sincerity and fervor.

Since the little boy had given himself this name, he accepted it readily: I am Sirius.

Within the dream, the enormous body of light subconsciously bent down, gently cradling the tiny little boy in its broad palm, carrying him through the starlight and soaring freely in the clear night sky.

The wind brushed against her body, starlight fell on her shoulders, love and passion intertwined, creating a magical realm of light that belonged only to her. That time was the softest fragment in her consciousness.

Just like the unpredictable weather, the sky was clear in the morning, but by the afternoon it would be overcast and a downpour was imminent.

The peaceful days quietly came to an end, and an even more biting cold swept in once again.

His classmates mocked him endlessly, and others relentlessly belittled the Ultraman he had painstakingly created.

Shota became increasingly silent, the light in his eyes gradually dimmed, and when alone, he would often stare blankly at the giant he had built with his own hands, his eyes filled with a deep sense of despondency.

This time, the chill that enveloped its consciousness was far more piercing and heavy than the previous grievances.

It struggled to discern this emotion, a vague answer emerging from its heart—

This is despair, a deep-seated sorrow...

The boy's long-accumulated love tightly enveloped it, supported its form, and outlined its complete giant silhouette.

Yet the endless sorrow filled every crevice within her body, causing her fragile obsession to swell ever larger.

Driven by a buildup of emotions, the body pieced together from scraps broke free from the limitations of a toy and, in the coastal area of ​​the city at night, transformed into a real giant standing on the earth—the delusional Sirius.

The body of light, born out of thin air, stood bewildered, not understanding why it possessed such immense power. Only one instinctive voice echoed repeatedly in its mind: Protect.

Protect? Protect what?

It wandered aimlessly on the edge of the city until it saw Shota sleeping peacefully, and the confusion in its heart was suddenly resolved.

The so-called protection is probably about letting the little boy who created you sleep peacefully like this forever.

With this pure and clumsy thought in mind, it followed the scent of children and wandered around.

A drunk pedestrian staggers alone in the dead of night. It instinctively tenses up, wanting to step forward and protect the other person. But when ordinary people look up and see him, they will only flee in panic.

It didn't understand why its protection would cause such fright, so it could only silently withdraw its steps, quietly retreat into the shadows, and ponder the meaning of protection alone.

Until that early morning, on a city street next to the convenience store, the figure of another giant appeared out of nowhere.

With just one glance, Delusional Sirius clearly perceived the other party's identity.

The giant before him was the real Ultraman Sirius, the original form of all light, and the true embodiment that the little boy loved.

But deep within her heart, a voice born of obsession began to clamor wildly and restlessly, instinctively giving rise to a stubborn thought: to defeat him.

Only by defeating the real Sirius can he prove that he, formed from the love and passion of a young boy, understands how to protect better than Ultraman Sirius and is more qualified to become Shota's unique hero of light.

There was no malice, no hatred; the root of it all, from beginning to end, was simply a clumsy giant trying to protect the only precious little boy he loved in his own way, proving that this humble yet profound love was also worthy of the name of light.

A frenzied fighting instinct surged through his body. The assembled Sylius armor gleamed coldly as it took heavy steps, launching a challenge driven by obsession towards the real Sylius.