Currents Of Danger

The streets of central Tokyo pulsed with the morning rush, a living organism of concrete and glass. Neon signs shimmered weakly in the daylight, their reflections stretching across wet asphalt left behind by a brief, impatient rain. Puddles mirrored the city in fragments, broken images of passing feet, glowing screens, and rushing lives.

Crowds flowed like rivers, orderly on the surface, chaotic beneath. Faces remained fixed on phones. Earbuds sealed people into private worlds. No one noticed the air itself tightening.

Hina Takahashi did.

She gripped Yui’s hand firmly, her fingers tense, grounding herself through the contact. Her little sister skipped ahead, excitement bubbling at the promise of shopping, sweets, and a rare day outside together.

“Slow down, Yui. Stay close,” Hina said, scanning the crowd.

A faint vibration crawled along her arms and legs, like static trapped under her skin. Not painful. Not loud. Just… wrong.

Probably nothing, she told herself. Just nerves. The city always felt overwhelming.

Yui glanced back, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine, Hina. The city’s always like this.”

That was when the first flicker appeared.

A man several steps ahead froze mid-stride. His phone flared unnaturally bright, the screen bleaching white. Sparks crawled up his fingers.

Then his arms.

Then his face.

He screamed.

The sound tore through the street, sharp and raw. His body convulsed violently, muscles locking as electricity wrapped around him like living wire. The phone shattered in his hand, glass exploding outward.

People screamed.

Another woman dropped to her knees as her earbuds ignited, sparks crawling along the cords and into her ears. A teenager collapsed, tablet sparking wildly against his chest. Phones, watches, headphones. All at once.

The street erupted.

Electricity arced uncontrollably, twisting flesh, scorching fabric, dancing across metal railings and signposts. The morning rush turned into blind panic as people shoved, fell, and trampled one another trying to escape something they couldn’t see or understand.

“Hina!” Yui screamed.

Hina reacted without thinking.

“Stay behind me!” she shouted, pulling Yui close and turning her body sideways, shielding her completely.

Her heart hammered. The hum beneath her feet surged, no longer subtle. The pavement vibrated. Not violently. Purposefully.

It’s responding, her mind whispered.

It’s alive.

A teenage boy stumbled toward them, earbuds dangling uselessly, eyes unfocused. Electricity crawled along his arms in jagged veins of light. He lunged, not attacking her, not even seeing her, simply carried by the current burning through him.

A bolt leapt toward Hina.

It grazed her arm.

Pain shot through her, sharp and white-hot. Her breath caught. Fear clawed up her throat.

But beneath the pain was something else.

A pull.

Not from the electricity.

From the ground.

Yui’s scream snapped something inside her. “Hina! Protect me!”

Fear collapsed into instinct.

Hina planted her feet hard against the asphalt.

Ground yourself.

She inhaled deeply, letting her breath drop low, feeling the pavement beneath her soles. The rhythm surged upward, a steady, ancient pulse. Not electricity itself, but its path. Its release. Its end.

She didn’t create power.

She gave it somewhere to go.

Dust lifted from the street, spiraling upward as the energy obeyed. A low-frequency hum rolled outward from her body. The air bent. A barrier formed, invisible but absolute.

The electricity arcing toward them shattered harmlessly into the pavement, grounding instantly. Sparks skittered and died.

The boy collapsed, unconscious but alive.

Hina’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought. She had listened.

“Run, Yui!” she cried.

She pulled her sister into motion, weaving through the chaos. Electricity lashed out around them, but each surge bent away, guided downward into metal drains, poles, and the street itself. The city became her ally, swallowing the excess energy hungrily.

The ground followed her.

Every step felt anchored, precise. The hum beneath her matched her heartbeat.

It’s listening, she realized. It’s following me.

They ducked into an alley, then another, Hina’s field twisting and reshaping as needed. A transformer exploded nearby, showering sparks across the sky. She redirected them instinctively, grounding the blast before it could cascade.

By the time they reached their apartment building, both girls were gasping for breath.

Inside, the air was deceptively calm.

Too calm.

Hina froze.

Haruto sat at his desk, headphones on, fingers flying across the keyboard. His laptop sparked faintly. A thin arc crawled along the desk’s metal frame.

“No,” Hina whispered.

She lunged forward.

“Yui, stay back!”

Hina positioned herself between Haruto and every electronic device in the room. She pressed her feet into the tatami mats, grounding through the building itself. The hum surged upward.

A dome formed.

Electricity snapped violently against it, scattering harmlessly into the floor, the walls, the foundation of the building. The laptop screen flickered and died. The lights dimmed.

Haruto froze.

“Hina?” His voice shook as he tore off his headphones. “What… what is happening?”

Yui stared, trembling. “Hina… you… you saved him.”

Hina’s chest heaved. Sweat dampened her collar. “Something’s wrong. Electricity is… going wild. Devices. People.”

She swallowed. “But I can redirect it. Through the ground. I can stabilize it.”

Haruto stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “You’re telling me you just did all that?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know before today. But now I do.”

Yui clung to her arm. “Does that mean you’re special?”

Hina hesitated. Then nodded. “I think so. But it doesn’t feel like a gift.”

Haruto’s expression hardened into focus. “Then we need to understand it. Fast. If this is spreading…”

Hina sank to the floor, grounding herself deliberately. The hum softened, obedient. Sparks danced faintly along her fingertips, harmless now.

“I can feel it,” she whispered. “Someone is using electricity to hurt people. It feels alive. Aggressive.”

Miles away, Renji Nakamura flexed his fingers.

Sparks danced between them, restless and sharp. His apartment flickered with static. Lights dimmed every time he breathed wrong.

“Focus,” he muttered. “Control it.”

A bolt jumped to a lamp, scorching the paint. He flinched.

No. Not like this.

He pressed his palms to the floor. Electricity pulsed through the building, teasing him, inviting him. He could pull it. Bend it. Command it.

But it resisted.

Patience, he told himself. Feel it.

Beneath the chaos, he sensed something else. A stabilizing current. Someone grounding the storm.

Someone like me.

Back in the Takahashi apartment, Hina closed her eyes.

The city hummed outside. Alive. Listening.

And somewhere, far away, another current answered.

The storm had begun to converge.