Current of Us

The city breathed again. Neon lights flickered back to life, hesitant sparks crawling along broken wires like the first notes of a melody trying to find its rhythm. Smoke drifted lazily from toppled transformers, and somewhere beneath the streets, a deep hum of electricity had settled into a steady, watchful pulse. Ginza had survived—scarred, battered, but alive.

Hina stood at the edge of a rooftop, wind tugging at her hair, the hum of the city beneath her feet resonating faintly with the remnants of power flows she had once controlled. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her fingers twitching unconsciously, tracing arcs in the air she could barely feel now. The adrenaline of the fight had left, replaced by a fragile, grounded calm. Yet beneath it, something taut and unresolved vibrated—a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and the pull of emotions she had refused to acknowledge until this moment.

Renji appeared beside her without a word. His presence was an anchor and a charge all at once. Sparks flickered faintly along his sleeves, harmless but alive, mirroring the currents that lingered in the city. He didn’t speak immediately. He didn’t need to. She could sense the way he had held himself during the battle, the perfect balance of restraint and determination, the flicker of worry for her well-being even as he fought.

“You were reckless,” he said quietly, voice low and measured, carrying just enough edge to hint at the storm that had passed.

“I had to,” Hina replied softly, letting the words leave her lips without hesitation. “We couldn’t wait. Not for anyone.”

Renji’s gaze flicked toward her, catching her eyes for a brief instant before glancing away. The corners of his mouth curved faintly, almost imperceptibly. “You almost made me lose control,” he murmured, half reprimand, half confession.

“And you almost made me lose you,” she countered, a shadow of a smile brushing her features. Her chest tightened at the admission, but she didn’t pull away. She let it linger, letting the unspoken truth rest between them, heavy and undeniable.

For a moment, they simply stood together, surveying the city below. Sparks danced across the skyline, remnants of the final surges, bending and twisting with a life of their own, harmless now, almost playful. Broken power lines hummed, cables arched faintly, streetlights flickered sporadically. The city was alive again, yet changed. Every scar, every flicker of electricity, every broken intersection was a testament to the fight they had survived.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Renji murmured, reaching out. His fingers brushed lightly against hers, sending a jolt—not of electricity, but of something deeper, a current of trust and connection she hadn’t allowed herself to feel fully before.

“I know,” Hina said, voice soft but steady. She let the contact linger, grounding herself in the touch, letting it anchor the tension that had been building inside her for weeks. Her grounding instinct, always subtle, hummed now in quiet resonance with his.

Renji’s hand closed around hers fully, entwining fingers. Sparks flickered between them, but this time they were playful, almost celebratory, reflecting the balance they had finally found—not just with each other, but within themselves.

“We’re still standing,” he said, a faint laugh escaping. It was sharp and wry, but free. “And I think… we might actually like it here.”

Hina leaned against him lightly, resting her forehead on his shoulder. The city beneath them, the faint hum of electricity, and the night sky above felt like a kind of sanctuary. For the first time, she let herself breathe fully. No fear. No hesitation. Just presence.

“Together,” she whispered, letting the word carry all the weight she had kept buried.

He tightened his hold, affirmation enough. “Together,” he echoed, voice low and steady.

The wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of ozone and smoke from the wreckage below. In the distance, emergency sirens wailed faintly, overlaid by the muted hum of residual currents stabilizing across the grid. Hina allowed herself a small, private smile. Despite everything—destruction, near defeat, Ishikawa’s shadow looming over their fight—they had endured. And they had done it side by side.

Renji shifted slightly, the faint sparks along his sleeves coiling and uncoiling in rhythm with his heartbeat. “You were incredible,” he said quietly, eyes scanning the horizon, taking in the city that still breathed around them. “I wasn’t sure you’d hold yourself together once the fight started.”

Hina shook her head slightly. “I’m not the one who surprised myself,” she said, letting a small smirk slip. “You did more than I expected, too. You fought like… like you were part of the city itself.”

Renji chuckled softly, low and rough. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have to fight alone.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to answer, to admit everything she had felt in the command hub, in the streets, in the surge itself—the fear, the frustration, the relief—but words felt fragile against the weight of everything they had survived. Instead, she leaned closer, letting their hands tighten, letting the current between them speak instead.

The city below, the streets still smoking, the hum of electricity and faint flicker of neon lights, became a backdrop for a different kind of victory. Not measured in grids stabilized or enemies defeated, but in survival, in connection, in knowing that they had endured together.

“Promise me something,” Renji said, breaking the silence, voice low, almost a growl.

Hina looked up, her eyes meeting his. “Anything.”

“Promise me we don’t let this… this distance, this fear, anything, get between us again,” he said, gaze intense, unwavering. “No more pretending. No more holding back.”

Hina swallowed. The weight of the fight, the near-loss, the months of suppressed feelings—they all surged at once. She nodded slowly. “I promise. No more holding back.”

Renji’s smirk returned, faint but real. “Good. Because I don’t intend to let you go—not ever again.”

She laughed softly, almost a whisper, a sound more fragile than the city lights but full of relief. “You won’t have to.”

They stood like that for a long moment. The wind carried the faint smell of ozone and rain-damp concrete, and somewhere beneath their feet, the grid pulsed quietly, as if in acknowledgment of their survival. The sky above them stretched endlessly, city lights stretching out like veins of neon across the concrete, electricity flowing through every street, every rooftop, every shadow.

Finally, Renji let out a deep exhale. “So… what now?” he asked, voice lighter, teasing, but still edged with care.

“Now,” Hina said, tilting her head, letting a faint spark leap between them, harmless, playful, “we make sure the city stays standing. And maybe… we take a walk. Just us. No war, no surges. Just…” Her gaze flicked around the skyline, settling on him, “…just this.”

Renji’s laugh was softer this time, easy. “I think I can do that. For once, I think I can manage just this.”

They moved together then, hands entwined, sparks coiling softly along their arms, as if the city itself approved. Below, Tokyo hummed, flickering and bright, the scars of battle slowly fading beneath the pulse of survival and resilience. Above, the wind carried the echoes of what they had fought for: trust, connection, and a promise that no matter what storms came next, they would face them as one.

The city’s heartbeat aligned with theirs, slow, steady, alive.

Hina leaned into him fully, letting herself feel every sensation—the hum of the ground, the warmth of his presence, the quiet victory after chaos. It was a grounding she had never known before, a current not of electricity, but of understanding, trust, and undeniable connection.

“Together,” she whispered again, more firmly this time.

Renji tightened his grip, leaning down slightly, brushing a gentle kiss against her temple. “Always,” he said. “No matter what.”

And for the first time in a long time, the city, the night, the currents, and their hearts all felt aligned.