Currents Beneath the Concrete

Raven didn’t dream that night.. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the night replay itself in crooked little loops. The Blue Gate hadn’t been frightening, not really. If anything, it had been too real. That was the problem. Everything felt too familiar, Rei playing behind sigil-etched glass, Mika’s fox grin, and even Takumi watching her with that quiet, irritating certainty.

The part that kept needling her was Aki, sitting at the bar like she’d been part of that world long before Raven ever showed up. She wasn’t supposed to fit there. Aki was supposed to be the stable one. She was meant to be the one fixed point in Raven’s new life, not someone who bowed to jazz-ward operators and traded glances with onmyōji like old colleagues.

It wasn’t betrayal. Aki hadn’t lied. She'd just carried truth the way she carried everything else: quietly, neatly, and alone. She had known everything, and that knowledge had shaped every conversation they’d ever had.

Raven rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket with her. The room was quiet except for the soft murmur of her father getting ready in the next room. She didn’t want to face him. Not today. Not when her entire sense of the world felt tilted.

She touched the pendant at her throat. It pulsed faintly giving off a subtle warmth. To Raven it felt like an answer just out of reach.

Rei had known her mother, really known her. He spoke like her mother wasn’t a memory, but a door… one Raven had only now started opening. That thought alone was enough to keep anyone awake.

When the apartment door finally closed behind her father, she slid out of bed. She didn’t feel broken. She didn’t feel scared. She just felt… unsteady, like the world had shifted half an inch to the left overnight.

Aki was already in the kitchen, folding a dish towel. She looked up, her expression calm, but her eyes carried a softness Raven hadn’t seen yesterday.

“You didn’t rest,” Aki said quietly. It wasn’t an accusation, only a subtle recognition of the truth.

“No,” Raven answered. “Too much to think about.”

Aki nodded once, as if she understood exactly which thoughts. Maybe she did.

Raven took a seat at the kitchen table, the chair cool under her palms. Aki moved quietly around the stove, her motions as precise as ever. She brought with her tea, kettle, and small ceramic cups. All were arranged like a ritual she’d practiced for years.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Raven watched her for a long moment before the words finally slipped out.

“You knew about the Blue Gate.”

Aki paused with her back to her, only slightly, but enough for Raven to catch it. She set the kettle down, turned, and folded her hands in front of her.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I did.”

“It felt like you were… waiting for me to end up there.”

Another small pause. Aki lowered herself into the chair across from her, posture straight but eyes gentle.

“I wasn’t waiting for you to find trouble,” she said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

Raven let out a slow breath. “Doesn’t feel like that.”

“I know.” Aki’s voice didn’t rise. “And I’m sorry it felt like I was hiding things from you.”

She reached forward and lifted Raven’s hand, turning it palm-up. Her thumb brushed the faint burn mark left from the talisman and resonance the night before. It wasn’t pity in her touch. It was recognition.

“I wanted you to have a chance at normal before the world decided otherwise,” Aki said. “A chance at school, at friends, at mornings that didn’t include wards and surveillance reports.”

Raven looked away. “Normal’s kind of off the table now.”

“Yes,” Aki admitted. “But not because of last night. This started long before Tokyo. Long before me.” Her voice softened. “Your mother carried things she didn’t want you to inherit. But inheritance has a way of finding us.”

Raven swallowed. Her throat felt tight, but not in the panicked way. More like something inside her was trying to shift into place.

“Aki… why were you even there? At the Blue Gate.”

Aki hesitated, then answered with a kind of quiet honesty Raven didn’t expect. “Because when your father was too rigid, and the Bureau too blind, someone had to stand between you and the storm.”

“That sounds like a lot of responsibility,” Raven whispered.

Aki offered a faint smile. “It’s not responsibility. It’s choice.” Then, she added in a softer tone. “And I choose you.”

Raven blinked hard, eyes stinging unexpectedly. “I don’t want you getting dragged into whatever this is.”

“It’s too late for that,” Aki said gently. “I’ve been part of your life since you arrived in Japan. I won’t step back now.”

Raven pressed her palms to her forehead. “I just… I don’t know what any of this means. Rei. Takumi. The Gate. My mother. The chant. All of it feels too big.”

Aki reached out again, this time resting her hand lightly over Raven’s wrist.

“You don’t need to understand everything today,” she said. “You only need to decide one thing.”

Raven lifted her gaze.

“Are you going to run from this,” Aki asked, “or walk toward it with open eyes?”

The kitchen fell into a hush. Morning light spilled across the counter, turning Aki’s features warm and familiar.

Raven exhaled slowly. “I think… I’m done running.”

Aki nodded, pride flickering briefly beneath her controlled expression.“Then whatever comes next,” she said, “you won’t face it alone.”

Raven believed that might be true. For the first time since the crash in the desert, she felt that she was not alone. She wasn’t sure why it felt comforting, but it did. She was done running. The words of her grandmother came to her. “May there be joy, happiness, confidence and peace before me, behind me, below me, and above me.”

* * *

The courtyard buzzed with the typical Monday morning noise. Laughter bounced off concrete walls and courtyard. Shoe lockers rattled. The squeal of a bike braking too hard could be heard over all of it.

Students streamed past in unbroken ribbons of color and chatter, each person carrying the casual confidence of someone who believed the world worked the way textbooks said it did. Raven stood just inside the gate, clutching her bag with both hands as if anchoring herself. Her pendant rested warm against her collarbone. It wasn’t painful, but it was present as if it was aware and watching the world around her-

Across the courtyard, Miyu spotted her and made a beeline through the crowd.

“Raven-chan,” she gasped. “You look like you fought a ghost.”

Raven winced. “I mean… sort of.”

Miyu froze mid-step, eyes going wide. “Hold up. HOLD UP. That was a joke.”

“Yeah.” Raven tried to smile. “Sorry.”

Before Miyu could demand answers, Kana swept in behind her, hair perfect, uniform immaculate, holding an energy drink like a weapon.

“There you are!” Kana said. “You vanished after we got home. Then you texted us a link to that weird jazz bar with no context. Do you understand how messed up that is? I didn’t sleep.”
She paused. “Also, Mika is terrifying, but in a hot way.”

Raven blinked. “…I’m sorry? Who's hot?”

“The bartender,” Kana said, already fanning herself. “Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

Miyu elbowed her. “Stay focused. Raven almost died in a demon-shadow-spewing basement.”

“It was not demon shadow,” Raven muttered, but she wasn’t sure she believed herself.

Ryo appeared, quiet as always, offering her a canned Boss Coffee without looking up.

“You looked like you needed it,” he said.

Raven took it. “Thanks.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t read into it.”

Kana snorted. “He bought that from the vending machine literally thirty seconds before you walked in.”

Ryo glared at the ground as if betrayal had occurred. For a few seconds, it was almost normal, the teasing, the bickering, the way Miyu looped her arm through Raven’s like she had always belonged there. Almost.

Miyu leaned close and whispered, “Raven-chan… seriously. That place last night. What was it?”

Raven sighed. “I don’t know yet.”

“But you’re going back,” Kana said, crossing her arms.

Raven nodded, slow and small. “Yeah.”

All three stared at her.

Miyu broke first. “You’re going BACK. To the place where a guy’s shadow peeled off like a horror movie prop. Where that piano dude stared into your soul. Where that bartender said things about ‘resonance abnormalities’ with a straight face.”

Ryo rubbed his jaw. “Is someone hurting you?”

The question hit harder than expected. Not because it was true, but because it was the first time anyone had asked.

Raven shook her head. “No. It’s not like that. I just…” She struggled for the right words. She settled on the only ones that felt honest. “I need answers.”

The group exchanged the silent kind looks that friends use when deciding whether to stage an intervention.

Miyu finally nodded, decisive. “Okay. If this is happening… we walk you to the station.”

Kana agreed immediately. “Group escort. Like an anime opening. Except with less hair glitter.”

Ryo just said, “Fine,” and fell into step beside them.

Raven’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected support. She hadn’t even expected company. But having them flanking her suddenly made the courtyard feel less like a battlefield.

They crossed toward the shoe lockers together, chatter shifting to gossip about exams and club meetings. For a moment, Raven let herself drift into the rhythm of it. The sound of shoes squeaking, bags thumping, and the metallic click of locker doors filled the area.

Suddenly, her pendant heated sharply. It was enough to pull her back to the present.

Ryo noticed it first. His shoulders stiffened. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low, “creepy dude at ten o’clock.”

Across the street, beyond the school gate, a man in a charcoal suit stood perfectly still. He didn’t look at Raven. He looked through her. A faint red reflection flickered across his irises, like a distant brake light catching glass.

Raven froze, her heartbeat syncing with the hum of the pendant.

“Do you know him?” Miyu whispered.

“No,” Raven whispered back.

The man raised his phone. Not to take a picture, but to observe it the way one might analyze a specimen in a sealed tank. His expression never changed.

A crowd of students crossed the street, and he vanished into them.

Ryo let out a breath. “Yeah. I hate that.”

Kana forced a shaky laugh. “Probably just some businessman. They all look like that.”

“No,” Miyu said quietly. “That was not normal.”

Raven swallowed. “Yeah. I know.”

The bell rang, scattering students like startled birds.

Miyu squeezed Raven’s hand before letting go. “You text me the second you leave school, okay? And I mean the second. I don’t care if Mika’s hot or if that pianist guy has ancient ghost mojo. I’m not letting you get eaten.”

Kana nodded. “Same. Zero eating allowed.”

Ryo nudged her shoulder. “We’ve got your back, Reibon.”

Raven managed a real smile this time. “Thanks.”

The bell rang, and the courtyard erupted into motion. Students scattered toward class in bright streaks of color, their laughter trailing behind them like ribbons in the wind. Miyu looped her arm through Raven’s, Kana fell into step on her other side, and Ryo drifted just behind. They moved together through the morning light, four silhouettes cutting through the crowd as if they belonged in the same frame. For a moment, Raven felt something ease inside her that she hadn’t felt since the desert.

She wasn’t walking alone.

She realized that wasn’t carrying everything alone. She had her friends and Aki. As she watched the crowds move and the pendant thrum at her throat, she understood something else too. Whatever was watching her… wasn’t done.