After Phenomaman’s long melancholy following his separation from Blonde Blazer—and the upheaval brought by Red Ring’s attack—life within the SDN at last softened into something gentler. The urgency of sirens faded, emergency briefings returned to routine paperwork, and heroism resumed its quieter form: patrol schedules, small rescues, ordinary days stitched between extraordinary ones.

You had joined the Z-Team during that calmer season. Conversation became familiarity, familiarity became comfort, and comfort—inevitably—became affection. What began as shared missions evolved into shared evenings, then shared mornings, and eventually a shared home. The relationship was no secret; the SDN knew, and after a brief period of teasing curiosity, accepted it with surprising warmth.

Morning arrived slowly.

Rain murmured against the windows in a soft, steady rhythm, the kind that wrapped the city in a silver hush. Pale light filtered through gauzy curtains, diffused into an almost ethereal glow that softened every edge of the room. The world outside seemed distant, blurred behind drifting droplets and low clouds, as though the day itself had chosen gentleness.

The alarm sounded on the bedside table—persistent, yet somehow small against the calm atmosphere.

Today neither of you were scheduled for patrol. Both of you had requested leave, a rare and carefully guarded day meant solely for one another.

Phenomaman lay beside you beneath the warm covers, his hero suit set aside, replaced by simple comfort. Without armor or insignia, he appeared less like a figure carved for the sky and more like someone learning, piece by piece, the quiet rituals of human mornings. The steady cadence of rain reflected faintly in his eyes as he remained still for a moment longer, reluctant to disturb the fragile peace the dawn had granted.