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Ever since they’d fought side by side to seal off the final gate from Jamanga’s evil, Kenji Narukami and Ryu Fudou had stayed close. At first, it was camaraderie—late nights at SHOT HQ, talking strategy and laughing after rough missions. But over time, it became something deeper.
They had both faced the darkest corners of the world together. And when the world grew quiet, when the monsters stopped appearing, their hearts still called out for each other.
It was after a routine patrol that Kenji felt the first wave of nausea. Dizziness. Exhaustion. He brushed it off—too much training, he assumed.
But his Soul Power was fluctuating.
And then, weeks later, the scans confirmed the impossible.
---
Fudou read the report in stunned silence, eyes darting between medical charts and Kenji’s pale face.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
Kenji nodded slowly. “SHOT's science division said it's because of the way our Soul Powers synced during the final seal. It... altered me. Made this possible.”
“Are you okay with this?” Fudou asked, voice steady but full of feeling.
Kenji stared at the screen, hand hovering over his stomach. “I’m terrified. But also... weirdly at peace.”
Fudou reached across the table, taking Kenji’s hand. “Then we face it together. Just like everything else.”
---
Kenji's transformation as Ryukendo had always been fueled by passion and courage, but pregnancy changed everything. His flames burned hotter, his senses sharper—almost overprotective.
Even the Madan Ryu, the dragon spirits who assisted them, began hovering protectively when he transformed.
Fudou adjusted their battle protocols. He fought more aggressively now, shouldering more risk. “You don’t have to prove anything,” he told Kenji.
Kenji chuckled. “I know. I just want to protect him. Her. Whatever little soul we created.”
Fudou kissed him softly. “You already are.”
---
One night, after a small battle downtown, Kenji broke down in their apartment.
“What if I lose control? What if the child inherits too much of my Soul Fire? What if—”
Fudou wrapped his arms around him, grounding him. “Then we teach them how to use it. Just like we did. We raise them to be stronger than both of us.”
Kenji nodded into his chest, breath shaky. “I hope they get your calm.”
“And your fire.”
---
The child was born on a quiet spring morning.
The SHOT team had cleared the area around the birthing facility, reinforced by Madan barriers. A single pulse of Soul Fire lit up the sky when Kenji cried out—and then silence.
Then: the sound of a baby’s cry.
They named him **Kaen** (meaning "blazing flame")—a child born of light and loyalty.
---
Kaen grew quickly, with sharp blue eyes like Kenji’s and the quiet steadiness of Fudou. The Madan Ryu coiled protectively around him during his naps, and his tiny fists sparked gently with latent Soul Power.
Kenji sat with Fudou on the rooftop one evening, Kaen asleep between them.
“I used to think my job ended when the battle was over,” Kenji murmured. “But now I realize… the most important mission just started.”
Fudou smiled. “And this time, we’re saving something far more important than the world.”
---
---
One Year Later
Kaen had just turned three and was already showing signs of inheriting his parents’ strength. He was fearless, always darting ahead with tiny sparks at his fingertips. His favorite game was pretending to “transform” like his dad, yelling “Madan Change!” with such intensity that Kenji swore the Madan Ryu actually flinched.
Life had found a new rhythm—quiet patrols, part-time SHOT duties, and lots of early mornings with a hyper Soul-child.
And then it happened again.
Kenji stood in front of the medical monitor, blinking at the familiar readouts. That soft hum of energy that pulsed not from a battle wound, but from within.
Another soul had awakened inside him.
---
“She’s Different”
Fudou held his hand over Kenji’s stomach and closed his eyes. The energy radiating from the baby was unlike Kaen’s blazing spark. This one felt… cool. Gentle. Like a breeze that moved the flames without smothering them.
“She’s different,” he whispered.
Kenji smiled faintly, the fatigue already setting in. “Yeah. She’s calmer.”
Fudou pulled him close. “Then maybe she’ll balance out her brother.”
---
This pregnancy was harder. The Soul Power didn’t flare as violently as it had with Kaen, but Kenji’s body felt weaker—more drained. There were days he couldn’t get out of bed. Nights he woke from dreams of firestorms, afraid something was wrong.
But Fudou was always there.
Sometimes with warm food. Other times with nothing but silence and his steady presence.
And Kaen—sweet, energetic Kaen—would sit by the bed, holding his papa’s hand and whispering, “I’m strong now. I’ll help too.”
---
The girl was born under a full moon.
She didn’t cry at first—just opened her eyes and looked up at them, calm and observant. Her hair was dark like Fudou’s, but her skin glowed faintly, almost with a lunar shimmer.
Kenji held her, tears in his eyes. “She’s… perfect.”
They named her **Aira** —from “air” and “light,” symbolizing the soothing breeze that stokes flames rather than extinguishing them.
Kaen peeked into the room and whispered, “She’s really small. But I think she’s strong like you.”
Kenji laughed. “She’s stronger than both of us. I can feel it.”
---
Their home had grown louder, warmer, more chaotic—with Kaen running in circles and Aira quietly watching him with an amused glint.
Kenji often sat on the porch with Aira in his arms and Kaen beside him, watching the stars. Fudou would come out later, offering tea, his quiet gaze taking in his whole world.
“We were born to fight,” Kenji said one night. “But I think… we were meant to protect this. Them.”
Fudou nodded. “And maybe we’re doing more than just protecting. Maybe we’re creating something that will outshine even us.”
And in the distance, a soft wind stirred the leaves, as the stars above reflected two burning souls… and the quiet light between them.
---