Static Rhythms

Last chapter

(A few years have passed.)

The Kaminari-Jirou household was alive with sound.

Laughter echoed down the hall from the living room where two small children. One with wild dark hair and a toy guitar, the other with spark tipped fingers and endless energy raced in chaotic loops around the couch.

"Kenji! Aiko! Off the walls!" Jirou called, leaning on the door frame.

The two tiny whirlwinds skidded to a stop. Aiko clinging to her guitar like a side kick, Kenji trying to hide sparks behind his back.

Denki peeked in from the kitchen, flour on his face and a half burned pancake in his hand. "I swear I turned the stove down. It just keeps judging me."

"Because you are trying to cook on 'Ten Million Volts'," Jirou teased, walking up beside him with a smirk. "Maybe don't use your quirk to flip pancakes next time?"

He grinned. "But it's faster."

"It's charred, Denki."

She plucked the spatula from his hand and kissed his cheek.

Their wedding bands glinted under the light. Hers with a tiny musical note engraved inside, his with a bolt of lighting etched next to her name.

Later that night.

The kids were finally asleep, sprawled across a pillow fort made of couch cushions and music sheets. Aiko clutched her toy guitar. Kenji snored with his mouth open, still holding one of his dad's old hero gloves like a trophy.

Jirou and Denki sat together in the music room that was part studio and part sanctuary. A familiar old guitar rested on her knee. Denki held a mic, his fingers fidgeting with the cord.

"You remember this one?" She asked, plucking a few cords from the song they wrote years ago. The one that started it all.

"Every note," he said softly.

She started singing. He joined in.

"Even when the lights go down...and even when you break the sound-"

The melody wrapped around them, worn smooth by time but no less real. Stronger and maybe even wiser.

As the final cord rang out, Jirou leaned her head against his shoulder.

Denki looked at her, smile soft.

"You saved me more times that I can count, you know?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "And you brought me back."

Their fingers intertwined, resting gently on the body of the guitar as sparks and sounds, forever in tune.

Outside, the stars pulsed.

Tomorrow, they will be heroes again. Parents. Mentors.

But tonight?

They were just heroes.