Scene 1: Training Grounds – Early Morning
A massive open field stretched out beneath a clear sky, revealing the aftermath of nature's fury. Jagged shards of rock and battered trees lay scattered like broken toys. Yet amidst the chaos, tranquility settled, the air buzzing with leftover elemental energy from the previous clashes.
Ren squared off against Kaede, his body marked with bruises, breath coming in labored gasps. She darted around him, a blur of wind and grace, Zephyr enhancing her every move. Off to the side, Mika, Haru, and Eiji observed in silence, their expressions a mix of concern and anticipation.
"Predictable. Too slow," Raijin snapped. "Lightning doesn't wait—it strikes. Adapt or die."
Ren glared, grit evident in his voice. "Do you ever not complain?"
Kaede smirked. "You sure you're a lightning host? You move more like… wet sand."
With a roar, Ren lunged forward, twin daggers crackling with energy. But Kaede vanished in a gust of wind, reappearing behind him before he could react.
"Oops," she teased, tapping his shoulder lightly.
Stumbling forward, Ren dropped to one knee, panting heavily. "Why… am I this drained…?"
A soft blue glow radiated from beneath Ren's shirt through black seal marks dragging outwards—his Kaiju Core—its flickering light an ominous sign. He gasped, clutching his chest, and collapsed.
"Your kaivor levels are critical," Raijin's tone shifted in Ren's mind, urgency cutting through the previous mockery. "Your human body can't regulate my power without proper sync. You're on the verge of short-circuiting."
"Great. So what do I do? Meditate? Take a nap?" Ren winced with each word.
"Recharge. Instantly. There's only one way."
Ren braced himself. "...Don't say it."
"Bite into a damn electrical cable," Raijin replied with a dry humor.
"Are you actually TRYING to kill me?" Ren retorted flatly.
"I'd never kill my host. Who else would I make fun of?"
The others rushed over, panic etched across their faces as Ren lay collapsed on the ground. Mika knelt beside him, checking his pulse, while Eiji hovered anxiously. Haru's gaze shifted to a sparking power line nearby, realization dawning.
"He's overheating. His energy's signature is fluctuating like a dying signal," Mika worriedly noted while looking at his energy readings via a scan device.
Eiji's brows furrowed. "Don't push him again. That Kaiju's pushing him too far."
Ren laboriously rose, his gaze fixating on the power line. "...Don't freak out."
"Haru interjected, urgent. "Ren, what are you—?"
Ignoring their protests, Ren stumbled toward the power line. He barely hesitated before he grabbed onto it and bit down. Sparks erupted, filling the air with a sound reminiscent of thunder. His body twitched in involuntary response.
Mika screamed, "REN!!"
Lightning surged through him, his hair defying gravity, eyes glowing with an electric charge. After a tense moment, he released the line, smoke wafting from his shoulders as he coughed out remnants of electricity.
Dropping to one knee, he broke into a weak laugh. "Okay… that sucked."
As Ren steadied himself, the group formed a tense semi-circle around him. Haru stepped forward, brandishing an accusatory finger.
"You could've died. You risked your life—again—just because he told you to?"
Ren's defensive tone returned. "I didn't have a choice—"
"No," Eiji cut in, seriousness etched on his face. "You didn't question your Kaiju. That's not trust. That's dependency."
Raijin interjected, his voice a whisper only Ren could hear. "Oh look, the peanut gallery thinks they understand synergy. How adorable."
Ren's glare deepened inwardly. "You're not helping."
Later that day, the group settled around a fire, leaving Ren alone on a boulder. He stared at his hands, sparks flickering at his fingertips—still rattled from the earlier fiasco.
"You're not syncing with me. That's why you're weak," Raijin's voice, more composed, echoed in Ren's mind.
"Maybe I don't want to sync with someone who nearly fries me every time I tap in," Ren retorted.
"If you want strength, you'll have to stop fearing me. Let me take control. Just for a second. I'll amplify your weapon—you'll see what real power looks like."
Ren hesitated. "No. Not like this."
Raijin's tone took a darker edge. "You're scared of your own potential. Pathetic."
Ren's frustration boiled over as he slammed his fist into the ground. The impact echoed, drawing the attention of his friends.
"You want me to trust you? You're a freaking storm in my head! You laugh when I suffer. You treat me like a tool!" His voice barked out, challenging the very essence of his partnership with Raijin.
Silence engulfed the clearing.
Raijin's voice, quiet and mocking, entered Ren's thoughts. "And yet, when your back was against the wall... who did you call on?"
Ren froze, his internal struggle reignited. The storm within him stirred again; his core pulsed stronger, resonating with the tension in the air.
"Switch, let me show you something," Raijin urged.
Finally, Ren stood, trembling as uncertainty loomed over him. "Fine. One second. One move. If I feel even the slightest off, I'm taking control back."
"Deal," Raijin replied, amusement lacing his tone.
Ren felt a strange pulse as his iris flickered with static energy, his weapon suddenly alive. The twin daggers glowed brighter, crackling with an electricity that transformed the atmosphere. The others watched in a stunned silence.
"Is that... new?" Mika whispered, her eyes unwavering from the display.
"This... this is insane," Ren muttered, awe creeping in.
Then came the explosion—a BOOM! The weapon surged beyond control, and panic struck Ren.
"Oh crap—how do I shut it off?!" he shouted, dread filling his voice.
Raijin laughed, a sound that resonated like rolling thunder in Ren's mind. "You don't."
In a split-second decision, Ren hurled the twin daggers into the air like lightning javelins. They detonated above them in a stormburst of brilliant electricity, showering sparks and chaos.
The stormburst faded into a humming silence. Electricity still danced faintly along shattered concrete and twisted rebar, like the world hadn't caught up with what just happened.
Ren crashed to the ground with a solid thud. He coughed once—eyes wide and glowing faintly—then collapsed, body twitching as sparks rolled off his skin.
"REN!!" Mika tore across the wreckage.
Kaede was already at his side, two fingers on his neck, eyes scanning his expression.
"He's alive," she said, breath tight. "Pulse is shaky. It's like… he shorted out."
Haru stayed back, tense. Eiji stared in disbelief. Only Aqua, her form flickering through Haru's aura, stepped forward, calm but analytical.
"He didn't take a hit," Aqua said. "The damage came from inside."
Mika looked up. "Then what happened?"
Aqua's eyes narrowed. "His bond with Raijin spiked. That attack—it wasn't just power. It was a full sync surge. Too deep. Too fast."
Kaede's brow furrowed. "So the lightning—it ran through him?"
Aqua nodded. "Like a living conduit. His nervous system overloaded. Think of it like plugging a phone into a thunderstorm."
Eiji winced. "That's… a visual."
"Raijin channeled more energy than Ren's current level could handle," Aqua continued. "Even Raijin's essence didn't stabilized that in time. He was forcing a weapon evolution in such a short burst."
Kaede glanced at the smoldering air where the daggers had vanished. "So that blast… was the daggers reacting?"
"They broke apart to protect him," Aqua said. "Better they shattered than his body did."
Mika knelt beside Ren, brushing grit from his face.
"He was really pushed past his limits…" she murmured. "Raijin....."
Kaede looked down, jaw tight. "Idiot doesn't know when to stop."
His body twitched again—still unconscious, but steady now. The static around him finally calmed.
"Let him rest," Aqua said softly. "He'll wake up. But… next time, he might not get that lucky."
Above the ruined town, the sky remained heavy, choked with gray clouds that had yet to move on. A sharp scent of ozone lingered in the air, and faint traces of static clung to the broken asphalt. Ren's body lay still with Kaede and Mika still beside him, smoke curling from his chest as Raijin's lingering aura crackled faintly before vanishing altogether.
Around him, the remnants of shattered buildings loomed like silent spectators.
"That dumbass really nuked himself…" EIJI said—voice rough, half-wrapped in disbelief
From beside him, Haru's jaw was set tight, his voice cold. "No… Raijin pushed him too far. Again.
Whilst the two girls sat in silence as the wind moved lazily through the hollow ruins, sweeping dust over their clothes and skin. Between them, Ren's breathing was shallow, but steady.
"Why does he always have to carry everything alone…" Mika's voice barely rose above the breeze.
Kaede let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "He says it's to protect us. Like we're made of glass. Like we don't break too."
Her words hung heavy in the air, unchallenged.
Mika turned slightly toward her. There was a pause—long and uncertain. Then, quietly, almost guiltily:
"When he's like this… I forget how much I want to punch him."
A small smirk played on Kaede's lips. "Same. But also… I kinda wanna hold him till he wakes up."
They both fell still, eyes meeting. Something unspoken passed between them—a moment not yet ready to bloom, but no longer invisible.
Then Ren stirred. A soft groan slipped from his lips.
"You guys okay…?" he murmured weakly, eyes fluttering open just a crack.
Instantly, they leaned in, their voices overlapping.
"Ren! Don't move—"
"Idiot, what the hell were you thinking?!"
He blinked slowly, pain and exhaustion painted across his face. But a faint smile curved his lips.
"You're safe… good… worth it."
And just as quickly, unconsciousness reclaimed him.
Silence returned, wrapping around them like a blanket. Kaede looked away, her jaw tightening. Mika's gaze lingered on him, softer now, as if something old had finally cracked open.
"You absolute jerk…" she whispered.
Kaede's voice was almost inaudible beneath the wind.
"...Don't make me fall for you too."
Aqua, interjected dryly looking at the twin daggers, now reduced to fragments of raw lightning, vanished into the ether.
"Yeah... that'll take a while to reform."
---
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION – WEAPON SUMMONING SYSTEM]
STATUS: Twin Daggers – Critical State
Cause: Elemental Overdrive Surge [RAIJIN] – Sync Breach (Weapon Threshold Exceeded)
Result:
→ Weapon Core Integrity: Annihilated
→ Form: Obliterated (Twin Daggers forcibly disassembled)
---
[INITIATING TOTAL RECONSTRUCTION PROTOCOL]
Designation: Twin Daggers – Standard Form Rebuild
Process: Full Core Reforging Required
Required Time: 18 HR (Nexus Plane Acceleration Applied)
---
[CURRENT STATUS: WEAPON UNAVAILABLE]
Estimated Time Until Completion: 17:59:58…
Note: No enhancements. Structure returning to original specifications.
---
[PING!]
[WARNING]
Excessive future Sync Overloads may result in irreversible loss
[CURRENT STATUS: WEAPON UNAVAILABLE]
Estimated Time Until Completion: 17:59:57…
Warning: All physical summoning of weapon is currently suspended.
---
[NEW TRAIT PENDING UNLOCK]
Elemental Modifier Detected: Plasma Residue
Host-Kaiju Link Reinforcement In Progress…
---
Aqua shrugged, unfazed. "What did I say..."
Ren suddenly regains his conciousness, waking up to Mika's face, whilst she was brushing ash from his shoulder, REN blushed a little as he struggled to sit up.
"You're such a dumbass," she half-laughed, half-worried, catching her breath.
Ren, exhausted and still reeling from the surge, managed a weak grin. "Yeah... but at least now I know where the line is."
Raijin, in his unending arrogance, added, "There is no line. Only power—and whether you are bold enough to wield it."
A close-up revealed Ren's glowing eyes.
A storm brewed within him anew. No longer just Raijin's storm—it was their storm now.
As night blanketed the world, everyone else retreated to their tents for rest, yet Ren remained at the edge of the training grounds. With his shirt off, steam rose from his body, and scars intertwined with burn marks reflected stories of relentless training. He stared up at the starlit sky, contemplating his journey.
"I trusted you for one second. And you nearly blew up everyone," he uttered quietly, directed at the storm rumbling within.
Raijin's voice echoed like distant thunder, oddly calm. "You weren't ready. The storm doesn't wait for you to catch up. It demands."
"Maybe I don't want to be a storm," Ren replied, clenching his fists. "Maybe I just want to be human."
A heavy silence ensued.
"You can't be human anymore, Ren. Not with me inside you," Raijin declared, the weight of his words settling heavily on Ren's heart.
Suddenly, Ren's mind flooded with fragmented visions, a kaleidoscope of blurred images. He saw Raijin—unbound and powerful—surrounded by violent lightning, chaos swirling around him. Thousands of voices merged into a cacophony, while energy pulsed from a crumbling world.
"What the hell was that?! Was that your memory?!" Ren shouted, clutching his head, struggling to separate reality from the intrusion.
"Stay out of my past," Raijin snapped, sternly placing boundaries around his domain.
"You showed it to me!" Ren protested.
"We're meant to share memories as partners. I've seen yours… but you can't see mine. This slip will never happen again." Raijin replied coldly.
Back at the camp, the group huddled around a low campfire, the warmth fighting off the cool encroaching night. Eiji sat silently, a figure of tension, while Raijin materialized fleetingly, weaving between dimensions. Mika and Kaede exchanged worried glances. Haru finally shattered the veil of quiet with a serious tone.
"If we can't trust Raijin, we can't trust Ren," he said, his gaze focused and unwavering.
Kaede shot back, her voice sharp, "Don't go there."
Haru pressed on, his face etched with concern. "He could black out mid-fight and take us with him. You saw what that weapon did."
Mika, clearly distressed, countered softly, "Ren is taking on a heavy burden. He's trying. Isn't that enough?"
Eiji interjected, his words heavy with realism, "Trying won't save us in a real battle."
Tension crackled in the air, mirroring the dark storm within Ren's heart.
Ren stepped back into their circle, the energy shifting ominously as all eyes turned to him. "You're scared. I get it. Hell, I am too. But if any of you think I'm not fighting for us, then say it to my face."
Silence enveloped the camp as Eiji and Haru rose defiantly.
"Then prove it. Tomorrow. Spar me. One-on-one. No Raijin tricks. Just you," Eiji challenged.
Ren met his gaze with steely determination but suddenly said. "No, I'll pass."
With a dismissive wave, Raijin began to dematerialize. "Tch, sorry you think he can't control my raw power."
Later, deep within the void of Ren's mind, electric shadows of the past clashed with the present. A looming presence approached him, Raijin's voice resonating like rumbling thunder.
"You're putting a leash on me, Ren. You think restraint makes you noble," Raijin warned. "But in battle, hesitation kills."
Ren stood firm before the rising tempest, defiance shining in his eyes. "Then I'll just get stronger without losing myself."
Raijin stepped closer, a predatory gleam flickering in his gaze. "There's a cost. You're not ready to pay it."
"Then teach me. Properly this time. No tricks. No sudden takeovers. Just you... and me," Ren asserted, voice steady.
The atmosphere crackled with unspoken words. Raijin paused.
"Very well. But if you fall behind... I will drag your body forward myself."
That night, as tranquility washed over the team, Mika quietly approached Ren, her heart racing slightly.
"You okay?" she asked, concern lacing her tone.
Ren turned, a lopsided smirk adorning his face. "No. But I'm used to that."
She settled beside him, maintaining a respectful distance, their proximity buzzing with unspoken emotions.
"I don't care how strong Raijin is. I just want you to come back from every fight," Mika said, sincerity shining in her eyes.
Ren remained silent, absorbing her words, his expression softening before he attempted to lighten the mood.
"Damn. You really got soft since Kaede whooped your ass in dodgeball."
Mika rolled her eyes, a smile breaking through her worried facade. "Screw you," she replied playfully, the camaraderie easing the tension of the day.
They sat beneath the stars, enveloped by the night's tranquil embrace, both acutely aware of the dangers awaiting them. Their thoughts drifted to the clandestine bond forming in the depths of uncertainty among them, a silent acknowledgement of worries left unspoken.
The clock struck night, casting shadows across Rika's neat room. She sat curled up on her bed, clutching her phone tightly, the silence around her deafening. Soft, subdued lighting illuminated her space, her desk adorned with framed photos flashing with warmth—one of Ren in a mid-basketball leap, another capturing their laughter over burnt pancakes, and a short, blurry snapshot of their mother radiating a gentle smile.
The phone buzzed once, the light illuminating her face—but it was not a message from Ren.
Sighing deeply, she glanced at the call history, her heart sinking further. Still no text. Still no call.
Her mind drifted back to earlier that morning, the memory vivid like a summer's day.
"Don't forget to message me if you're staying late again," Rika teased, watching Ren lace up his shoes, a playful grin on his face. "I don't want to wake up thinking you got body-snatched."
Ren smirked, his arrogance shining through. "Please. Who's going to snatch this masterpiece?"
Rika feigned disgust, pretending to gag. "Ugh, your ego's worse than ever."
A playful pillow fight erupted, laughter filling the room, a stark contrast to the heavy silence enveloping her now.
Rika stood, moving toward the kitchen, the quiet weighing down on her. On the table, a plate sat covered in foil. Out of habit, she lifted it, revealing a meal she had prepared but left untouched.
"I kept your food warm for a while... just in case," she whispered softly to the emptiness, her voice barely louder than the gentle hum of the fridge.
She microwaved it, letting the warm light fill the kitchen, sitting down in solitude as she watched the seconds tick away.
Loneliness crept in, persistent, a quiet companion gnawing at her heart.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she clutched her phone, the screen flickering with idle notifications.
She stared out the window, the storm from earlier having faded, leaving only a whisper of its scent lingering in the night air.
"You always rush into things. Just once, I wish you'd slow down. Let someone catch up," she murmured to herself, tears threatening to spill as she quickly wiped them away, frustrated by her own vulnerability.
"Idiot," she sniffled, forcing a grin in a futile attempt to mask her worries. "He probably just forgot... again."
Curling up on the couch, she clung to the phone, seeking solace from the unyielding isolation.
Incoming Message:
From: Ren
Sorry. I forgot to call. I'm safe. Hangout. Don't worry about me. I'll be back soon.
"Took you long enough, idiot," she whispered, a small smile breaking through the clouds of despair as she held the phone to her chest.
As sleep enveloped her, the soft buzz of her phone faded into the background, a gentle reminder of the connection still tethering them, even through distance.
Ren (text): I'll bring back your favorite noodles. Promise.
[Scene: A little past midnight – Takahashi Residence]
The front door creaked open with care, letting in a draft of cool night air. Ren stepped in, his shoulders slouched under exhaustion, damp from both rain and sweat, his breath visible in the chill. In one hand: a steaming bag of noodles from their favorite late-night spot. In the other: guilt, worn like a second skin.
He closed the door gently, removing his shoes with almost comical silence—tiptoeing like he was disarming a bomb.
The living room was dim, save for the blue glow of the TV—muted, flickering through an old cartoon rerun. Curled up on the couch, bundled in a blanket and hugging a pillow, was Rika. Her phone still clutched in her hand, screen dark, her breathing slow and peaceful. Her face was still faintly blotched, the kind of redness that comes after crying and trying too hard to pretend you didn't.
For a moment, he stood still, silence pressing around him. The guilt settled in heavier than any blow he'd taken in sparring. His shoulders sagged slightly as he exhaled.
The couch was approached with quiet steps. A steaming bag of noodles was placed gently on the table. Then, rather than speak, he lowered himself to the floor beside her and simply… sat. Eyes fixed on her face, watching the subtle rise and fall of her breath. The quiet was allowed to linger.
In her hand, her phone vibrated softly. A message had been sent moments earlier.
New Message:
From: Ren
Look left.
A faint stir was caused by the buzz. Sleep-heavy eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim room. Slowly, her head turned.
"You really texted me... while standing right there?" she muttered, voice scratchy from sleep.
A weary grin tugged at his lips. "Technically, I was sitting."
A scowl was offered in response, but it lacked any real venom. The noodles were held up as an offering of peace. Her gaze lingered on the bag for a beat before it was taken wordlessly. Still half-asleep, she set it on her lap with minimal effort.
"You smell like stress and regret," she mumbled.
"That's because Kaede kicked my ass, Raijin roasted me alive, and I ran through two closed blocks to get these."
A finger was poked firmly against his forehead. "Idiot."
A slight shift followed, creating just enough space for him on the couch. The invitation wasn't voiced, but it was clear. Without hesitation, he collapsed into the open space beside her. The blanket was tugged over them both.
No words were exchanged for a while. The soft hum of the television, the rustle of takeout wrapping, and the quiet rhythm of two synced breaths filled the silence.
"…I'm sorry," he murmured, the words barely above a whisper.
A small nod was given, as if the apology had already been understood. "I know."
Silence returned. Then, softer:
"…Just don't make me feel like I'm the only one waiting. Okay?"
A nod was offered again, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling. The weight in his chest had begun to lift.
"I'll do better," he promised.
"You better. Or next time I'm feeding your noodles to the neighbor's cat."
A shared chuckle broke the stillness. No grand gestures. No more tears.
Just warmth.
And quiet.
And noodles.