The night stretched endlessly, cloaked in silence broken only by the occasional murmur of the wind through narrow streets. Hana lay curled upon the sofa, her journal resting open against her lap, though her pen had slipped from her fingers hours ago. The lamp's glow bathed her in amber, casting shadows across her tired eyes, yet she did not sleep.
Instead, she felt.
There was no logic to it, no proof she could offer to anyone, yet her heart told her he was near. Not in body, but in spirit — an unseen embrace surrounding her with warmth when the world threatened to swallow her whole. She closed her eyes, and for a fleeting moment she could almost feel his arms around her, steady and strong, guarding her from the darkness outside.
"Ren…" she whispered into the quiet.
Across the city, far removed from her quiet solitude, Ren sat in the dim back room of a safehouse. The scent of gunpowder lingered faintly; his hand bore fresh bandages from a skirmish earlier that night. His men were resting, the battle postponed rather than won, yet his mind had already drifted from strategies and betrayals. He leaned back against the cold wall, eyes half-closed, and let himself imagine her.
Hana's laughter.
Her soft sighs.
The way she used to press her cheek against his shoulder, as if it were the safest place in the world.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his hand to his chest. Beneath the hardened exterior of the Shadow Dragon, beneath scars and responsibilities, there pulsed a longing that not even war could erase. It was as though, in the very stillness of this dangerous night, she touched him. An invisible caress, a bond stronger than steel, binding him to her.
Ren's lieutenant, Ichirou, entered quietly, eyes narrowing at his boss's stillness. "Boss… you should rest. You're bleeding through the wrappings."
Ren didn't open his eyes. His voice was calm, almost softer than usual. "It doesn't hurt."
Ichirou hesitated, sensing something unspoken, but he knew better than to intrude. With a short nod, he withdrew, leaving Ren alone with the ghost of her presence.
At that same moment, Hana rose from the sofa and wandered to the window. The streets outside were mostly empty, the city hushed in uneasy slumber. She pressed her palm flat against the glass, as though by sheer will she could bridge the distance, her fingers reaching for him across unseen barriers.
"I know you're fighting," she murmured, her breath clouding faintly against the pane. "But you don't have to bear it all alone."
Her body trembled, not from fear, but from the intensity of feeling something she could not explain — a closeness without touch, an embrace without form. She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and in her heart she could swear she felt the brush of his hand, steadying her, reminding her that she was not abandoned in this solitude.
Ren shifted where he sat, leaning forward, elbows braced against his knees. His hand moved instinctively to the bandages at his side, but instead of pain, he felt… comfort. A warmth that had no place in the cold confines of the safehouse. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, rare and fleeting.
"Hana," he whispered, voice barely audible. "Even when I can't hold you, it feels like you're here."
The night deepened, the city's silence like a curtain drawn tight, yet both of them — separated by distance, by danger, by the cruel demands of fate — found solace in the same intangible presence.
Later, Hana drifted into uneasy slumber, her journal sliding from her lap to the floor. She dreamt of an embrace — his arms encircling her, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear, the safety of his warmth. She smiled faintly in her sleep, tears glistening against her lashes, comforted by the dream's illusion.
Meanwhile, Ren finally allowed his body to rest. He leaned his head back, one hand pressed lightly against his chest as though holding her close in memory. Sleep crept in cautiously, bringing no nightmares for once, only the quiet sense of her near.
The unseen embrace, fragile yet undeniable, carried them both through the long night. Though they were worlds apart, their love reached across distance, across silence, weaving itself into their very breaths.
But beyond the veil of comfort, the city's shadows stirred restlessly. Rivals plotted, enemies regrouped, and whispers of betrayal spread like wildfire. Soon, their bond would be tested in ways neither could foresee.
For now, however, they rested in the safety of something unbreakable — a love that embraced them even in absence.