The base's lights flickered faintly, their glow competing with the unnatural violet haze leaking in through the reinforced windows. The portal's stain touched everything—the walls, the tables, even their faces. Everyone looked a little paler, sharper, as if the city's wound above, was bleeding into them.
The central table was crowded. Aqua sat cross-legged on it, serene despite the buzz in the air, her long hair catching streaks of violet as she toyed with the condensation on her water bottle. Haru leaned against the far wall, arms folded, the dim light sharpening every cuts on his lean frame as he adjusted the wrappings around his hands.
Eiji stood restless, warhammer propped against the table, his height making him tower over even Titan, who loomed quietly behind him like a sentinel. Zephyr drifted upside down above them all, idly tracing glowing circles in the air with a fingertip. Every now and then, she'd blow a puff of air that sent papers skidding across the table, just to watch someone scowl.
On the opposite side, Kaede stood still as stone, her calm eyes fixed on the others like she was measuring every word before it was spoken. Infernia slouched in her chair, flames licking lazily between her fingers as if her impatience was burning straight through her skin.
And at the head of the table—Ren and Mika. He looked calm, arms crossed, but the violet light cut across his face in a way that made him seem older, heavier. Mika sat beside him, hands clenched tight on her knees, the faint flush from earlier still not entirely gone. She tried to look composed, but every time Infernia grinned her way, she shifted.
The hum of the base's generators filled the silence. Then Ren spoke.
"We can't sit on our hands. The Shadow Monarch's growing stronger every second that portal stays open. If we delay, we lose."
Mika faltered a bit then her voice cracked through immediately. "And if we rush in, we lose faster. You saw what he did—no plan, no coordination, and he'll wipe us out."
Infernia leaned forward, embers spilling across the table. "So let's make a plan faster. Every second we waste is a threat to this world, people down there won't wait for the amount of time it'd take for us to be ready."
Haru pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his shadow long against the floor. "No one's arguing against a fight. But no one goes in blind, either. We need formations, recon, fallback points. Otherwise, it's a slaughter."
Kaede's tone was colder, precise. "We bait him. Force him to show his real power. If we don't know his limits, we'll be crushed before we even touch him."
Eiji snorted, one hand on his hammer. "Or we stop overthinking and break him. Everything cracks if you hit it hard enough."
Haru's glare cut sideways. "That mindset gets us killed. You're not fighting a wall—you're fighting an abyss."
Aqua finally opened her eyes, her voice quiet but steady. "Balance. We don't rush, but we don't wait too long either. We strike before the portal stabilizes fully. Otherwise, it's already too late."
Zephyr rolled midair, eyes glowing faint in the violet haze. "If he's shadows, we fight him with light. Doesn't have to be brute force. Trick him. Corner him."
Haru's words followed almost immediately, "Yeah that'd probably work, only if we had the concept of light on our side…"
Ren mumbled, "That's if such things even exist…"
Aqua assured Ren, "She does, she's usually the one to tame Xytheon."
Zephyr mumbled under her breath, "It still baffles me why Luxira hasn't stopped this herself…"
The base fell silent. The only sound was the faint buzz of electricity outside, the far-off hum of the wounded sky.
Ren straightened, the glow painting his white-and-black hair like fire and ash. "Talk about inconsistent."
After a deafening silence, Haru gave a final call for a proper plan and recon, "At the moment, we're humanity's last hope, we can't afford to be reckless… We should give ourselves enough time to strategize, yet not wait too long till it's too late."
The room shifted, shoulders stiffening, jaws tightening. No one argued. Even Infernia smirked, flicking a flame from one hand to the other.
"Two days," she said. "Fine. But when it's time, no one holds back."
At the far corner, Titan hadn't said a word. He sat cross-legged on the floor, arms folded, massive frame hunched like a mountain at rest. His eyes glowed faintly as he stared at the floor, breathing slow, almost meditative. But his hand tapped once, twice, against his knee—like a drumbeat echoing his readiness.
Near the back wall, half in shadow, Raijin leaned with his arms crossed. Lightning flickered faintly across his skin, silent arcs dancing over his collarbone and jawline. He hadn't looked at anyone the whole meeting, gaze fixed instead on the faint purple horizon outside the window. His lips curved the slightest bit—an amused, arrogant smirk that said he already knew how this would end, but chose not to share.
And in the silence that followed, the hum of the portal seemed louder, like it too was waiting.
:
The meeting has long since dissolved into an uneasy quiet. No one said it out loud, but the decision had been made—two days. The weight of it pressed on their shoulders as the violet light outside deepened, bleeding into streaks of dusk. The city above ground was a husk, streets hollow, buildings cracked. Beneath their feet, thousands of humans sheltered in the underground bunkers, the faint vibration of their hidden world echoing through the steel foundation of the base. Somewhere among them, Ren's sister, Rika, was safe—for now.
Outside, the portal pulsed. Its glow spread across the skyline, staining the clouds purple as the sun sank low. The air hummed like the world itself was holding its breath.
Chairs scraped back one by one. Haru slung his bag over his shoulder, muttering something about scouting the southern blocks before nightfall. Eiji hauled his warhammer with a grunt, Titan falling in step silently behind him. Aqua slipped off the table with fluid grace, offering only a nod before leaving. Zephyr spun herself upright and floated lazily toward the exit, already whistling.
Ren lingered near the doorway, scanning the room with that same quiet weight in his gaze. Mika adjusted her jacket beside him, her hands fidgeting at the straps of her boots though her eyes stayed forward.
And then there was Infernia. She hadn't moved from her chair, a sly grin curling at her lips as she glanced sideways at Kaede, who was calmly gathering a stack of reports from the workbench.
"So…" Infernia started, her tone stretching like honey. "Want to hear about last night?"
Kaede's eyes flicked up, sharp but calm. "What about it?"
Infernia leaned forward, flames flickering at the edges of her grin. "Mika and Ren. Same bed. All cuddled up."
Mika spun around instantly, her face a crimson explosion. "W-What?! That's not—!"
"Oh, it gets better," Infernia purred, ignoring her. She wiggled her fingers like she was conducting the scene. "Ren carrying her so gently, Mika's cute little sleepy face pressed against his shoulder, the two of them looking like the sweetest pair of lovebirds you've ever—"
"INFERNIA!" Mika nearly lunged, fists clenched, cheeks glowing.
Kaede raised one brow, expression unreadable, but the faintest shadow of a smirk tugged at her lips. "...I see."
Ren blinked, confused. "What's she talking about?"
"Nothing!" Mika barked, her voice cracking. "Absolutely nothing!"
Infernia cackled, spinning her chair halfway around as if basking in the chaos she'd sparked. "Oh, Kaede, you should've seen it. Mika even tried to cook for him in the morning. Smoke everywhere. The whole mansion smelled like charred tragedy."
Mika covered her face with both hands, groaning. "Please stop…"
Kaede turned away, reports in hand, but her voice was smooth, even. "So you two are closer than I thought."
Ren tilted his head. "Closer? What's that supposed to mean?"
Mika shrieked, "REN, LET'S JUST GO!" She grabbed his arm and bolted for the door, dragging him out before he could ask further.
Infernia laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair, fire crackling in her hair. "Worth it."
Kaede paused at the doorway, her eyes still cool and unreadable, though something lingered there—curiosity, maybe even amusement. She didn't comment further, simply followed into the violet evening.
One by one, the others dispersed into the broken city, shadows stretching long across the cracked streets, each of them carrying the weight of two days. Above them, the portal pulsed again, watching.
The violet wash from the portal above had deepened by the time the others had left. Long shadows stretched across the cracked floor outside the Observatory, and the stale hum of power lines buzzed faintly overhead.
Ren stretched his arms, cracked his shoulders, then faced Mika. "I'm fine now, so… I don't need to crash at your place anymore. Thanks for putting up with me though."
Mika's face twitched. She tried to keep her voice even, but her hands clenched around her jacket hem. "I-it wasn't for you, idiot. I just… didn't want you dying on my couch, that's all." She turned away, cheeks burning.
Infernia leaned against the wall, smirking like she'd been waiting for that exact response. "Mmhm. Totally 'just because.' Not because you were staring at his hair while he slept, nope."
Mika nearly combusted. "Y-you—!"
But before the moment could spiral further, Kaede coughed softly. She adjusted her scarf, eyes downcast, then spoke in a small but clear voice:
"Actually… I'll stay at Ren's place tonight."
Everyone present shifted.
Ren blinked. "…Huh? You don't have to—"
Kaede cut him off, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I haven't been feeling well lately. If something happens at night, I'd rather not be alone." Her tone was calm, but her eyes flicked sideways.
In the quiet corner of her mind, her voice brushed against Zephyr's.
"Back me up."
Zephyr sighed, her reply lilting with mischief. "You're lucky I like drama. Fine—I'll vouch."
Out loud, the wind Kaiju stretched and yawned, before chiming in smoothly:
"Yeah, Kaede's been pale all day. Better someone keeps an eye on her."
Ren rubbed the back of his neck, conflicted, but couldn't argue. Mika's glare could've lit kindling.
"Hmph, Infernia, let's go home."
Infernia snickered, then declined, "Nahhhh, I'll meet you there, I have some…teasing to do, don't get into trouble, okay?"
Mika clicked her tongue, "Tch." then stomped off ahead of them.
The streets were half-dead under the portal's glow, empty save for the dust swirls and the low hum of defense generators. Above, the violet wound in the sky pulsed like a heartbeat, bleeding its strange light into every cracked window and puddle.
Ren walked ahead, hands behind his head, sighing like the weight of the day had finally landed. Kaede matched his pace, her scarf tugged high, hiding the faintest smile.
Behind them, Infernia and Zephyr strolled like it was their personal comedy show.
Infernia, arms folded, grinned. "So… Kaede, huh? Bold move, calling dibs on Ren's futon."
Kaede didn't miss a step. "It's not like that. I told you—I don't feel well."
"Mhm." Infernia's grin widened. "Sick in the heart maybe. Don't worry, I'm rooting for you. Well, rooting for the chaos, really."
Zephyr twirled a strand of hair, eyes sparkling. "You should've seen Mika's face though. If looks could kill, Ren would've been a corpse five times over."
Ren glanced back, confused. "What are you even talking about?"
"Nothing~," both Kaijus sang in perfect unison.
Kaede's cheeks flushed, but she kept her eyes forward. "…Just walk, Ren."
The city around them groaned with silence, every shuttered shop and cracked streetlamp a reminder of the humans hidden far below, Rika among them. For a brief stretch, it almost felt normal—a boy walking home with two shadows of trouble trailing behind.
Infernia whispered to Zephyr, her smirk sharp as ever.
"Bet you a week's ration Kaede won't let him sleep peacefully tonight."
Zephyr's laugh was like windchimes in the dark. "You're on."
The streets of Kyōnori were a hollow echo, drained of life. Every window shutter was bolted, every doorway chained; the real city was under their feet, hidden in the bunkers where the rest of humanity waited out the nightmare. Above, the portal spread its violet stain across the sky, its pulse threading through the air like a second heartbeat.
Ren walked hands-behind-head, posture loose, but his gaze kept flicking upward. The glow painted his white hair ghostly, black undertones catching like ink. Kaede walked at his side, scarf drawn up to her nose, as if hiding from the chill—or her own nerves.
Trailing them were Infernia and Zephyr, the self-proclaimed peanut gallery. They whispered, they laughed, they exaggerated every look and stumble like two theater critics rating a drama only they understood.
Infernia stretched lazily. "You know, Kaede, I'm impressed. That was smooth—dropping the 'I'm sick' line. Classic sympathy play. Bet Ren bought it without question."
Ren scratched his cheek. "I mean… she did look a little pale earlier."
Kaede's eyes flicked, then lowered. "…Thank you, Ren."
Zephyr snickered, cutting in with a breezy tone. "Smooth? Please. Mika's meltdown at the door was the real highlight. If sparks were fire, Infernia wouldn't even need to exist anymore."
Infernia rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha. But let's not pretend scarf-girl didn't score points. Staying at his place? That's prime territory."
Kaede pressed her lips together, keeping her face calm, though her ears glowed faintly pink under her hair. "You two have wild imaginations. I told you, I just don't feel well."
That's when Raijin's voice finally rumbled, cutting through their noise. He had been walking in silence until then, arms folded, sparks occasionally tracing across his frame as if echoing his mood. His grey eyes turned lazily toward Kaede.
"Lying doesn't suit you."
The words hit with the weight of thunder.
Kaede stiffened but didn't flinch. She kept her scarf high, replying softly. "…Mind your business, Raijin."
His smirk was sharp, predatory. "You made it my business when you dragged Zephyr into your excuse. Don't forget, I hear more than I care to. Deny all you want, but your pulse is louder than your voice."
Zephyr covered her mouth, giggling. "Ooooh, he caught you~."
Kaede shot her a glare, then whispered harshly: "…Shut up."
Infernia clapped her hands together like a coach hyping a match. "I like this! Two rivals already. What's next, you both start dueling for who gets to watch him snore?"
Ren blinked, completely lost. "Wait—what? Why are we talking about my sleeping? I literally just said I'm fine—"
"Exactly." Raijin's grin widened, his gaze flicking between the girls. "You're fine, and yet Mika hovered, and Kaede insists she's 'sick.' Both of them volunteering for bedside duty? Hn. Pathetic excuses. Transparent ones at that."
Kaede's scarf couldn't hide the sharp inhale she took. For once, words failed her.
Infernia doubled over laughing. "Gods, you're brutal, Raijin."
Ren groaned, waving his arms. "Oi, cut it out! We've got enough to worry about without turning this into—whatever this is!"
But the Kaijus weren't stopping.
Zephyr leaned close to Infernia, whispering with a sly grin. "Think Kaede'll fold first?"
Infernia whispered back, loud enough for Kaede to hear. "No, she's stubborn. She'll let it drag out until Ren's literally in the middle of a warzone before she cracks."
Kaede snapped, voice tight but sharp. "…I will not."
Ren blinked at her, baffled. "Will not what?"
Kaede turned away quickly, scarf drawn even higher. "…Nothing."
They walked in silence for a beat after that, though the tension was thick enough to cut. Only the portal above hummed on, staining the world in its unnatural twilight.
At last, Ren stopped at the edge of his block. His house stood crooked but intact, its frame humming faintly from reinforced tech his mother had left behind. He let out a sigh, more tired than he admitted.
"…Well, home sweet home. Guess we'll pick up the plan tomorrow."
Infernia leaned toward Kaede as he opened the door, smirk sharp as a knife. "Try not to burn the place down with jealousy, scarf-girl. Or do—it'd be funny."
Kaede's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You talk too much."
Infernia snickered but turned around, "I better get home before Mika burns down the mansion in jealousy~"
"Kaede! Zeph! Ren! Byeeeeee~" Infernia squealed before she vanished with a loud crack.
Ren waved, turned and pushed the door open with his shoulder, the hinges groaning. Dust drifted in the entryway, stirred by their steps, but the place still held a kind of quiet sturdiness. The tech embedded into the walls hummed faintly, a relic of his mother's work, keeping the house livable when the city above wasn't.
As Kaede followed Ren inside, her cheeks still betrayed her, glowing faintly under the violet light.
"Not much, but it's home," Ren muttered, tossing his bag onto a chair. "You can take the couch, Kaede. It's sturdier than it looks."
Kaede stepped in carefully, scarf loosened now that the portal's glow wasn't as strong indoors. The dim lamps cast softer shadows across her face, highlighting her calm but guarded expression. "I don't mind the floor," she said quietly. "I didn't come to be comfortable."
Ren frowned. "That's not… you don't have to say stuff like that. You're a guest, not a soldier on shift."
From the corner, Raijin leaned against the wall, arms folded, sparks crackling faintly between his fingers. He hadn't said much since their walk, but his gaze lingered on Kaede with that same half-amused, half-piercing look.
"Guest?" he scoffed. "She volunteered herself here with a lie. Guests don't need alibis."
Kaede stiffened but didn't look away this time. She pulled her scarf down fully, meeting his gaze. "…Believe what you want. I'm not leaving."
Zephyr perched lazily on the back of a chair, kicking her legs. Her voice slid into Kaede's mind like silk.
"You know he's not going to let it drop. Raijin's a storm—he doesn't let clouds pass without striking."
Kaede's reply was firm, directed inward.
"Then he'll waste his thunder. I'm not running…," she trailed off then her voice echoes in her subconsciousness again, "…and also, tease and punish him."
Ren, oblivious to the silent back-and-forth, yawned and stretched. "Honestly, I don't care about whatever you two are bickering over. Just… don't break anything while you're here."
Raijin's smirk widened. He pushed off the wall, his height casting a long shadow as he walked past Kaede toward the kitchen. "Hn. Brave words for someone hiding behind excuses. Let's see if they hold when the night stretches long."
Kaede turned her head slightly, watching him go, eyes narrowed. Her voice slipped softly, almost too low for Ren to catch. "…Try me."
Ren raised a brow. "Hm? You say something?"
Kaede shook her head, scarf sliding back into place. "No. Just… goodnight, Ren."
She sat down on the couch, folding her legs beneath her, her posture as composed as ever—but her knuckles were white where she clutched the fabric of her scarf.
The house settled into silence, the only sound the faint hum of old circuitry and, far above, the distant pulse of the portal painting the night in violet.
After some minutes, Kaede slipped off her boots, stretching her legs as she rose from the couch. The silence in the room pressed heavier than it should have, only broken by the occasional pop of static from Raijin's fingers as he idly toyed with sparks at the table.
Ren was already halfway through rummaging in the kitchen, opening the fridge with a grunt. The dim yellow light flickered on, revealing its barren state: a half-empty carton of eggs, some wilted greens in a plastic bag, and a bottle of water shoved in the corner.
"…That's it?" Ren muttered. "Guess we'll have eggs and… eggs."
Kaede appeared behind him before he realized, peering over his shoulder. She studied the shelves, then crossed her arms. "You've been living on instant noodles and snacks, haven't you?"
Ren scratched his head. "…Kinda. Why?"
"Because you can't fight on an empty tank." She stepped past him, gathering the eggs, the greens, and a forgotten onion from the crisper. Then she found some rice in the cupboard — dusty, but usable. "Move. I'll handle it."
Ren blinked. "Wait, you actually cook?"
Kaede didn't answer. She just tied her scarf tighter behind her, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work with the efficiency of someone who'd done this quietly a hundred times before. Knife tapping against the board, oil crackling in the pan, steam rising to fog the kitchen window.
Zephyr hovered nearby, resting her chin on her hand, watching with a sly grin. "Look at her. Acting all composed, but this is basically domestic training camp. You'd think she was auditioning for housemate of the year."
Kaede's voice slid back into Zephyr's mind. "I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing it because no one else will."
"Mhm." Zephyr giggled softly, her voice like a breeze in Kaede's thoughts. "Keep telling yourself that."
When Kaede finally set the plates down, the food wasn't pretty, but it was warm and balanced — fried rice with eggs, greens mixed in, onion for flavor. Raijin raised a brow at the aroma, flicking sparks off his hand as if to say he approved without words.
Ren shoveled a bite into his mouth, chewed, then blinked. "…This actually tastes good."
Kaede looked away, face neutral but ears pink. "Don't act so surprised."
Later, when the dishes were washed and Kaede quietly claimed the couch, Ren found himself restless. The hum of the portal above seeped through the walls, too loud to ignore.
So he climbed the creaking stairs to the rooftop.
The night air hit him sharp, cool against his skin. The city stretched out broken and purple-lit, every shadow warped by the massive wound in the sky. From here, he could see the faint shimmer of the barrier fields protecting the shelters underground. Somewhere beneath all that concrete and steel, Rika was sleeping. Safe, for now.
Raijin appeared at his side without sound, arms crossed. He didn't speak — he just stared at the portal, eyes reflecting its glow.
Ren exhaled, leaning on the railing. "…Tomorrow's gonna be worse, huh?"
The Kaiju didn't answer. But the sparks that danced faintly around his hand said enough.
Down below, Kaede lay on the couch, one arm folded over her eyes. She wasn't asleep — not yet. Zephyr sat perched on the armrest beside her, whispering idle thoughts only Kaede could hear, a breeze in the stillness of the house.
The night held them all in uneasy quiet, as if the city itself knew the storm that was waiting.
Ren leaned on the railing, the purple light staining his white hair with ghostly hues. Raijin stood beside him like a silent sentinel, gaze locked on the wound in the sky.
The rooftop door creaked softly.
Kaede stepped out, scarf loose around her shoulders, the faint night wind tugging at her hair. For once, she wasn't all sharp edges and stillness — her movements were slower, quieter, as if the night itself had softened her.
Ren turned his head. "Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head, walking over until she was at the opposite corner of the railing. For a long moment, she didn't say anything, just watched the skyline and the unnatural light crawling over it. Then, finally—
"…You come up here often?"
Ren shrugged. "Yeah. When things get… too much."
Kaede hummed faintly, leaning forward, her arms folded on the rail. Her eyes weren't cold anymore. They reflected the violet glow, warm in their own quiet way. "Makes sense. You're the type who carries things without asking for help."
Ren blinked at her, thrown off. "…That's not true."
"It is," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But it's not weakness. It's… just you."
The words hung there, more vulnerable than anything she'd said all day. Even Raijin, sparks still dancing idly across his hand, glanced at her like he'd caught something rare.
Ren rubbed the back of his neck. "…You really don't pull punches, do you."
Kaede tilted her head, scarf shifting just enough to show the warmth in her expression. "Not when it matters."
For a while, they stood there in silence — Ren staring at the sky, Kaede stealing glances when she thought he wasn't looking. The city below was wrecked, the future uncertain, but in that brief stretch of night, the air between them was calm. Almost safe.
Raijin finally broke it, his voice low. "The storm's coming faster than you think. Rest while you can."
Kaede's eyes flicked to Ren, and for the first time, she let it show — the quiet, unspoken worry she carried for him.
Ren let out a slow breath, leaning back on the rail, eyes fixed on the pulsing scar in the sky.
He thought Kaede would slip away after a minute — like she always did, leaving before anyone could read her too deeply. But when he glanced sideways, she was still there, scarf loosened, her expression calm but softer than he'd ever seen it.
Not watching the portal. Watching him.
Ren raised a brow. "…What?"
Kaede shook her head lightly, lips curving into the faintest smile. "Nothing. Just… staying."
The words were simple, but they carried weight. She wasn't here to argue, or push, or even speak. Just to be beside him.
Raijin gave a low hum, turning away from the railing. Sparks snapped once in his hand before fading. "Hn. Finally quiet." He stepped back into the stairwell, leaving the two of them under the purple glow.
Ren blinked at the sudden retreat. "…Guess even thunder gets tired."
Kaede's laugh was small, barely audible, but it warmed the night in a way the city's broken skyline couldn't.
They didn't talk much after that. Ren leaned against the rail, Kaede folded her arms atop it, the silence between them steady and unforced. The portal pulsed above, the city groaned below — but for the first time in days, neither of them felt like moving.
When Ren finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual. "…Thanks."
Kaede tilted her head. "For what?"
"Just staying."
She didn't answer, only let the faintest warmth touch her expression again — but that was more than enough.
The night stretched long, and for once, it didn't feel unbearable.
Zephyr lounged upside down on the couch, legs kicking lazily in the air, sipping water straight from the jug like she owned the place. Raijin sat across the room with his arms crossed, posture stiff, like he was holding court.
"So, Mr. Lightning God," Zephyr drawled, voice sing-song. "Tell me again how you're the undisputed heartthrob of Kyōnori? Because from where I'm sitting, your fan club is looking a little… empty."
Raijin's eye twitched. "Don't be ridiculous. Girls fall for me. Always have, always will."
"Mm-hm." Zeph flipped upright in a flash, perched on the armrest like a cat. "Is that why Kaede ignored you three times at dinner? Or because you eat like a squirrel, one nut at a time?"
Raijin's jaw dropped. "A squirrel?!"
"Yeah," she grinned, teeth flashing, "all that lightning bravado, but crunch crunch nibble nibble—cute little cheeks stuffed with rice."
"Tch…" His tongue clicked, "tease all you want. I'm not falling for such."
She leaned in close, lowering her tone just enough for the jab to sting: "You're not a storm, Raijin. You're drizzle. Drizzle with delusions."
The room went quiet for a beat. Infernia would've cut the tension with a flame, Mika with a laugh—but neither were here. Raijin sputtered, scrambling for a comeback, but Zeph had already dissolved into laughter, rolling back across the couch like a kid who'd just scored the final point.
Up on the rooftop, Ren leaned against the railing, watching the city lights pulse faintly through the haze. His shoulders slumped, his daggers long since tucked away. The air was cooler up here, quieter—like the weight of the day finally allowed him to breathe.
For a moment, neither spoke. The city hummed below, Raijin's muffled ranting drifted up faintly from the apartment, and above them the night stretched wide. Kaede tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes flicking his way, and for once, Ren didn't feel the need to fill the silence.
It was… enough.
Downstairs, Raijin sat like a thundercloud trapped in human form, arms folded, sparks twitching off his skin. Zephyr sprawled across the couch upside down, humming loudly and tapping her fingers against the armrest like she was orchestrating his doom.
"So, Raijin," she began sweetly, "how does it feel to know Ren's more popular than you without even trying?"
His eyes snapped open. "Excuse me?"
"Mm, think about it." She ticked points off her fingers. "Basketball star. Cool hair. Accidentally charming without knowing it. Girls blush just existing near him. Meanwhile you—" she pointed, grin sharp, "—practice your smolder in the mirror and still end up looking constipated."
Raijin jolted upright, voice booming. "I do not practice my smolder!"
Zephyr gasped theatrically, eyes widening. "Oh, my mistake—you call it 'divine lightning stare,' don't you?" She cupped her cheeks with mock awe. "So terrifying! So powerful! So… pouty."
His hands sparked violently, but she wasn't done. Zeph leaned closer, whispering like she was delivering the final kill shot:
"Face it, Raijin. You're not the storm. You're the background thunder. The guy everyone hears but nobody looks at."
Raijin froze, fury and denial battling across his features. His aura flared dangerously—then sputtered out as her laughter cut through, bright and merciless.
"Hmph, you can't exactly say that when I'm the one who's the…strongest…," his mutter trailed off as he pouted.
"Pfft—your face! Priceless!" Zeph rolled onto her back, kicking her feet in the air like a kid, tears of laughter streaming down.
Meanwhile, Raijin sat rigid, sparks flickering pathetically. His pride—the great thunder god's pride—was being strangled by her giggles.
For once… he had no comeback.
Morning bled into the apartment in shades of violet, the portal's glow still stained the sky. The streets above were hushed, emptied by the shelters, so the silence felt heavier than usual.
Ren shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up even worse than normal, scratching the back of his neck. Kaede was already there, sleeves rolled up, sliding a bowl of miso across the table like she'd been up for hours.
"You look half-dead," she said, her tone casual but soft.
Ren grunted. "Didn't sleep much." He sat, letting the steam from the bowl hit his face like therapy.
Across the room, Zephyr was perched on the counter swinging her legs, eyes sparkling with mischief. Raijin slumped in the corner chair, arms crossed, radiating sulk.
She grinned. "Morning, sunshine. Still brooding about last night?"
Raijin shot her a glare sharp enough to crack stone. "Say one more word, and I'll—"
"You'll what? Pout harder?" Zephyr cut in sweetly. She didn't even look at him, just smirked while plucking an apple from the fruit basket like she owned it.
Ren blinked between them, confused. "...Do I even wanna know?"
"No," Raijin muttered.
"Yes," Zeph chirped at the same time. "Short version? He thinks he's hot stuff, but he's actually drizzle. The weak kind. You know, the rain that ruins your sneakers but doesn't even sound dramatic on windows?"
Ren choked on his soup, coughing to cover his laugh. Kaede turned away quickly, but her shoulders shook with the effort of holding it in.
Raijin's pride visibly crumbled another notch. He muttered, "…whatever"
"Sure," Zephyr said through a mouthful of apple, grinning wide. "Keep telling yourself that, drizzle boy."
Silence hung for half a heartbeat—then Ren couldn't hold it anymore. His laugh burst out, raw and unfiltered.
"I've never seen Raijin this quiet."
Kaede finally gave in too, hiding her face in her sleeve.
"Yeah, seems our god of thunder is now the undisputed drizzle god."
Raijin, betrayed by the room itself, let out the longest sigh in history and collapsed back in his chair.
The so-called thunder god had lost the morning.
The morning light cut through the curtains, faintly tinted violet from the rift above. At Ren's small kitchen table sat four bowls of miso, steam curling like soft banners in the still air. Kaede had pieced it together from whatever scraps she could find in his near-empty fridge—rice that was just on the edge of old, miso paste he didn't even know he had, a few vegetables rescued from the back drawer.
Ren blinked at his bowl. "…You actually made this out of that fridge?"
Kaede gave the faintest smile, chin resting on her palm. "Resourcefulness is a survival skill. You should try it sometime."
Zephyr slurped her portion obnoxiously loud, eyes sparkling as she tilted her head toward Raijin. "Mmmmmm… tastes like care and effort. You wouldn't know anything about that, huh?"
Raijin, sitting stiff-backed like he'd been forced into a dinner party, scowled. "…what do you want from me."
"Oh it's nothing personal, don't worry." Zephyr winked, chopsticks wagging.
Ren sighed. "…You two never stop, do you?"
Kaede stayed quiet, though her eyes flickered with quiet amusement. Her voice cut through her subconsciousness where Zephyr consciousness also lied, "Good job, Zeph. Tease him more."
Zephyr's voice echoed back, "Of course. Can't lie, I'm kinda enjoying this." But all she did on the outside was smirk towards Raijin, who only glared back.
When breakfast ended, they stepped into the street. The city felt hollow, a skeleton of itself. Cars sat abandoned. Storefronts were dusted with fallen debris. And overhead, the sky bruised purple where the portal bled into the horizon. Every sound echoed—shoes on asphalt, the distant hum of power lines, the low groan of shifting rubble.
They walked in a loose line. Zephyr drifted close to Ren just to whisper, "She cooked for you, you know," before darting away again with a grin. Kaede ignored her, keeping her eyes on the fractured skyline.
Ren kept his hands in his pockets, silent. The ache in his body had dulled to something tolerable, but his mind buzzed with the weight of what was coming.
When they reached the Observatory, or that's how it seemingly looked inside, they went through the usual hatch, to open a stairway that traced downwards, the reinforced walls and glowing barriers stood out like a fortress against the ruin. The heavy doors slid open, revealing the others already waiting.
Mika was at the table, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Haru leaned against the wall, katana propped nearby, while Aqua sat calmly with a water bottle in hand. Eiji fiddled with his hammer at the corner, Titan looming behind him like a silent shadow. Zephyr zipped inside first, twirling dramatically.
Kaede followed in, quiet. Ren stepped last, Raijin beside him like a storm contained.
"Finally," Mika said flatly, eyes flicking from Kaede to Ren. "Took your time."