The mansion was quiet in the days after the battle, but beneath that silence lay a current of change. Wounds were tended—not just the physical ones that wrapped in bandages and healed with time—but the invisible fractures, the scars etched deep within hearts and minds.
Zero moved among his siblings with a new sense of purpose—not as the distant "Number 0," but as someone determined to heal what had long been broken.
(For so long, I thought power was the answer. Now, I see it's love that saves.)
Vanya sat by the window, her violin resting gently on her lap. The weight of her power still lingered, but so did a fragile hope. Zero approached quietly.
"You're not alone," he said softly.
She looked up, eyes shimmering. "Sometimes I'm afraid of what I might become."
"You're more than your power," Zero assured her. "You're family."
Allison and Diego exchanged glances across the room, their tensions easing with each shared smile and quiet conversation. The barriers that once divided them seemed to crumble, replaced by a growing understanding.
Luther, usually stoic, allowed himself moments of vulnerability—his laughter coming easier, his patience deeper.
Klaus, ever unpredictable, found new purpose in supporting the family, his chaotic energy now a source of strength rather than discord.
Zero found himself opening up in ways he never had before. Around the dinner table, stories were shared—memories rekindled, apologies whispered, bonds reforged.
(We're not perfect. We're fractured. But together, we're whole.)
The night air was cool when Zero stood on the balcony, looking out at the city's lights twinkling like stars. His private planet felt farther away than ever—not because of distance, but because his true sanctuary was here, with them.
A soft voice came behind him.
"Welcome home, Number 0."
He turned to see Vanya, her smile gentle and real.
Home.
The word settled deep in his chest, a balm to the wounds he hadn't known he carried.