Author's Notes: This was supposed to be part of a larger piece, but this little bit decided it wanted to be its own very small story, so there won't be a continuation to this. There's basically one spoiler of note for the Moebius TV series through episode 30; otherwise no warnings. Now that there's an Ultraman section I'll probably start posting some of the longer Moebius fics I've been working on, but I thought I'd start with a short easy one first. ;)
Ultraman Moebius: Human Form
by Hoshikage
Konomi seemed to have gotten the idea somewhere along the line that Mirai was, in essence, an oversized - make that very oversized, depending on what body he was in - preschooler. Perhaps she'd always felt more comfortable around children than adults, or perhaps she was just the only one who actively encouraged Mirai's curiosity about all possible human activities, regardless of what age the humans who participated in them were. At any rate, every time she had a day off, she usually spent at least part of it showing Mirai something new - and usually this meant that the rest of them would have to put up with the hallways being filled with bubbles, or their workstations being temporarily decorated with impromptu craft projects, or something else equally silly until Mirai's attention flitted to something else.
None of them ever said anything, of course. Ryuu grumbled a little, but he could do that, because everyone knew that Mirai would take no offense if he was the one complaining. And even he didn't make more than a token protest.
Mirai, strictly speaking, never had a day off. Not like the rest of them did. He'd had them scheduled on the duty roster, of course, before they all found out the truth - but they'd never gotten anything from him on where he went on those days, what he did. And after learning he was Ultraman Moebius, of course none of them were at all surprised to learn that he rarely actually left the base on those days - that the reason they hadn't seen him was because he was in his room sleeping and recovering from the latest monster battle, or he was training, or even sending "progress reports" of a sort back to his Ultra relatives. If he did go anywhere, he watched people, trying to learn from them, trying to figure out how to blend in.
It took a long time before it occurred to any of them even part of the reason why he'd failed.
He'd mastered speech instead of telepathy, he moved in all the right ways. He looked right, he sounded right. But something was missing, so subtle that it only manifested in a childlike wonder at everything new and different, in a subtle inability to understand shades of falsehood. A human child learned early on what a lie was. An Ultra child could hear only truth, as there could be no convincing lie from one mind to another. Human children formed friendships through play and games; to Ultra, there was no such thing.
Mirai knew nothing of how to play. So many of the things humans did had no counterpart he could identify. He didn't know how to dance, or sing. Though he could memorize the rules of games instantly, he had no idea what they were for. He couldn't draw, sculpt, or paint; the only art he understood was the art of war.
Being on Earth was his chance to learn about something other than fighting; to know truly what the purpose was for his eternal quest to protect other planets from the monsters that would obliterate them, just like every Ultra before him. To make real inside his heart the truth of love, and joy, and exactly what it was that needed protection.
Mirai never let on in as many words whether he knew this or not. But as the rest of them came to realize, to understand what was so natural to them but so - there was no other word for it - so alien to Mirai about his new temporary home, they spent more time together than ever before. George dragged Mirai off to play soccer. Marina took him riding halfway across Japan. Konomi made excuses for bringing him to a petting zoo she'd visited a dozen times before. Teppei organized Movie Nights with Godzilla films and treats. Gradually it began to seem as though Mirai technically had more days off than on, although it hardly mattered, since if a monster attacked they all came on duty to fight it anyway, and what use did an Ultraman truly have for flying practice and patrols? And Captain Sakomizu, of course, merely smiled and looked the other way whenever Mirai disappeared when he was technically supposed to be on base.
Ryuu took the longest to "kidnap" Mirai. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to before, and he knew Mirai was probably wondering after a couple of rounds with everyone else why Ryuu hadn't invited him. Ryuu didn't know how to explain what the problem was, even after he'd admitted it to himself. He had far too much in common with Mirai, that was the real problem.
His life had been training and working, all the trappings of adulthood, for so long that Ryuu had long since forgotten how to play, himself.
At last he couldn't take the unspoken questions in Mirai's eyes anymore. He'd racked his brain for something that didn't feel silly or contrived, and finally on one rainy, miserable day off, a hair away from sleet and far too miserable to venture outdoors anyway, he dragged a willing Mirai to one of the rec rooms.
"Here," he said, putting a box down on one of the tables. "We're going to learn to play go."
"We?" Mirai asked. "You don't know how to play either, Ryuu-san?"
"Nope." Ryuu began unpacking the game pieces. "But it's never too late to learn something new, right?"
Mirai's face lit up. Ryuu had said the magic words - there was nothing Mirai liked better than trying something new and potentially fun. "Of course, Ryuu-san!"