Chapter Forty-Nine: The Secret of Tetsuo Miyamoto

"Mr. Miyamoto, are you joking with me?" Ryunosuke was momentarily stunned, then laughed, surprised that even Tetsuo Miyamoto would make a joke with a junior like himself.

"No, I'm not joking." Tetsuo Miyamoto, unfazed by the heat, downed his cup of hot tea in one gulp, exhaled deeply, and fixed Ryunosuke with a serious gaze. "The truth is, I am a Feitanian, from beyond the Milky Way."

"Feitanian?" Ryunosuke was taken aback by Miyamoto’s earnest expression. "I can hardly believe that you, Mr. Miyamoto, are an alien!"

Miyamoto gave a sly smile as he refilled his own tea. "Why is it so hard to believe, Azawa-kun? After all, aren’t you the Black Ultraman yourself?"

"Mr. Miyamoto, how did you..." Ryunosuke was stunned again.

"You carry the same aura as that Black Ultraman, so I recognized who you are," Miyamoto continued, eyes narrowing with amusement. "Though I only discovered it during this meeting."

"It seems you really aren’t from Earth, Mr. Miyamoto..." Ryunosuke now fully believed him and smiled. "Then you must have a remarkable story to tell!"

"Would you like to hear it?" A faint glimmer of hope flashed through Miyamoto’s eyes.

"I’m all ears." Ryunosuke gave him a warm smile, already guessing why Miyamoto had invited him to his home today. As an alien, Miyamoto had harbored this secret alone for far too long; he desperately needed someone to confide in, and Ryunosuke, a prodigious swordsman whom Miyamoto greatly admired, was the perfect confidant. Moreover, as Black Ultraman, Ryunosuke would not be shocked by his extraterrestrial origin and would accept it more readily than others.

Miyamoto took a long, steadying breath, gazing absentmindedly at the sky through the dim light of the room, and began his tale.

"We Feitanians, much like humans, are deeply passionate about the way of the sword. Some are devoted to other martial arts, but I have always been obsessed with swordsmanship."

"No wonder your sword skills are so extraordinary, Mr. Miyamoto..." Ryunosuke felt a sudden clarity.

"My original ambition was to spend my life challenging the best swordsmen across Feitan. But when I was twenty-five, during an interstellar voyage, my ship malfunctioned and crashed here on Earth.

"The ship exploded, and I was the only survivor." Miyamoto’s voice grew tinged with sadness.

"Over time, I found the strength to move on and began to learn about this blue planet. I realized that Feitanians look very different from the inhabitants of this world, but we have the ability to change our appearance at will. So, to blend in, I assumed this current form."

"Then... why didn’t you choose a more handsome appearance? Or at least something a bit more cheerful?" Ryunosuke asked.

Miyamoto shook his head. "By Feitanian standards of beauty, I already look quite handsome on Earth!"

Ryunosuke could only sigh inwardly in disbelief.

“At the time my ship crashed, it was Japan’s Edo period. As I traveled, I discovered that this world also had powerful swordsmen, formidable enough to slay even supernatural beings.”

Miyamoto paused, admiration clear in his voice.

"Edo period... slaying spirits..." Ryunosuke seemed to understand and ventured, "That powerful swordsman—what was his name?"

"I don't know," Miyamoto replied, shaking his head. "He mistook me for a demon and fought me, utterly defeating me. But afterward, he said I had no evil intent and let me go, even offering advice on how to survive in this world."

Miyamoto continued, "But from start to finish, it felt as though he was just using me for practice. He used only one technique: the Draw Technique."

"So that's why you recognized the Draw Technique I used today!" Ryunosuke was almost certain now—the man in question was his own unconventional master, Ryu Idaka.

"Fate is truly mysterious," Ryunosuke mused privately.

"Indeed, even on Feitan, the Draw Technique is considered unorthodox yet powerful," Miyamoto nodded. "I’m curious—how did you learn it?"

"What if I told you that I know the swordsman you mentioned?" Ryunosuke decided to reveal what he knew.

"You know him? But humans don’t live that long!" Miyamoto looked at him in disbelief.

"Well, his body is long gone, but his spirit remains," Ryunosuke replied.

"So his flesh is gone, but his soul lingers?" Miyamoto was astonished—such a thing was impossible on Feitan, where death meant the soul simply dispersed.

"Perhaps that explains his strength," Ryunosuke murmured, reflecting on the mysterious forces in this world.

"Do you remember what he looked like?" Ryunosuke asked, eager to confirm if the man was truly Ryu Idaka.

Miyamoto fetched paper and brush, and, relying on his remarkable memory, produced a vivid portrait.

Ryunosuke gazed at the lifelike image in awe. Miyamoto, you’re truly wasting your talent not being an artist!

There was no doubt—the portrait was of Ryu Idaka, also known as Kotetsuro Idaka.

In the dim room, the two men shared an impassioned conversation.

"I never imagined you would have been taught by him!" Miyamoto exclaimed, overcome with wonder at the strange workings of fate.

"By the way, your daughter, Miss Reiko..." Ryunosuke suddenly thought of something. If Miyamoto was an alien, then Reiko Miyamoto must be—at least in part—Feitanian, her blood a blend of Earth and another world.

"No. Reiko was a foundling. Eighteen years ago, on a snowy night, I found her beside a trash bin, nearly frozen to death. I took pity and brought her home," Miyamoto explained gently.

"I see," Ryunosuke nodded, understanding. By Feitanian standards, it was impossible to imagine such a beautiful Earth girl could be born from them!

Now that Miyamoto had finally unburdened himself of the secret he’d carried for so long, he felt much lighter, the gloom that had hung over him lifting.

They chatted amiably for a while longer. Noticing how late it had become, Ryunosuke rose to take his leave.

"Good luck, my young friend," Miyamoto said, taking a sip of tea. Though his voice was soft, it was deep and resonant, reaching Ryunosuke at the doorway.

Ryunosuke paused, his foot still hovering above the threshold.

"Ultraman of humanity!" Miyamoto spoke again, setting down his cup.

At these words, Ryunosuke’s lips curved in a slight smile. Without looking back, he stepped out into the night.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Miyamoto!" he called out, his voice echoing as his figure gradually faded into the snowy darkness outside.