The world was a blur as Ren led Hana through the back alleys, his grip firm around her hand. Behind them, the sound of engines faded into the distance, leaving only the echo of their hurried footsteps.
They stopped beneath an abandoned overpass, the shadows wrapping around them like a cloak.
Ren finally released her, his breathing heavy but controlled. His eyes swept the area once before settling on her, sharp and searching.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice clipped.
Hana shook her head, though her heart was still racing. "No. But you are."
Ren glanced down. A shallow cut marked his forearm, blood trailing in thin lines beneath the rolled sleeve of his coat.
"It's nothing," he said.
But Hana stepped closer. "It's not nothing. You bleed, Ren. You're not untouchable."
He froze at the words, something unreadable flashing in his gaze. For a long moment, the city noise seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of their breathing.
Hana reached out, gently taking his injured arm in her hands. Her touch was careful, almost reverent, as if afraid he might vanish if she held him too tightly.
Ren didn't stop her this time.
"You shouldn't be here," he said softly. "This world isn't meant for you."
"Then why does it feel like it is?" Hana whispered.
Ren's chest tightened.
For years, he had fought to keep her away, to keep her safe. But standing there, her hands warm against his skin, her gaze locked on his, he felt something shift.
His heart was pounding, fast, insistent. And then — impossibly — he felt hers.
A rhythm, soft but steady, aligning with his own.
He drew a sharp breath.
"Ren…" Hana said, sensing it too. "Do you feel it?"
He nodded slowly, almost unwillingly, as though acknowledging it would make it real.
Their heartbeats had aligned — two separate lives beating in the same rhythm.
Ren stepped closer, so close that Hana could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill of the night.
"This is dangerous," he said quietly, almost to himself.
"So is breathing," Hana replied, her voice steady.
The faintest smile touched his lips — the kind that could break a thousand silences.
And then he reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. This time, he didn't pull away.
The city felt still, as though holding its breath for them, for this fragile moment of connection in a world built on violence.
Ren lowered his forehead until it rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the cold night air.
No words were spoken. They weren't needed.
Their hearts spoke for them, beating in perfect unison.
And for the first time in years, Ren allowed himself to believe that perhaps he didn't have to fight alone anymore.