Meeting Currents

The next morning, Tokyo moved carefully.

Power had returned to most of the city, but nothing felt truly stable. Streetlights flickered unpredictably, elevators hesitated mid-ride, and neon signs stuttered like hearts skipping a beat. The hum of electricity was no longer background noise—it was alive, restless, aware. People whispered, moved cautiously, afraid to provoke the city itself.

Hina stood at the window of the Takahashi apartment, bare feet pressing into the tatami mats. Her gaze swept the streets below. The vibration beneath her was subtle, like water trapped in pipes under immense pressure. Sparks danced faintly at her fingertips, imperceptible to anyone else, yet undeniable to her.

Then came the screams.

Old. Fractured. Panicked. A chorus of fear that made her stomach twist.

She didn’t hesitate. Her body moved before thought, guided by instinct.

Outside, the street was chaos. An elderly couple huddled near a cracked utility pole. Sparks licked the wet asphalt, arcing unpredictably, dancing around their trembling bodies. Hina’s chest tightened, but her feet pressed firmly into the ground. The floor hummed in recognition. She ran.

At the same moment, Renji Nakamura arrived. He had been drawn here, an invisible tug threading through the city, subtle but insistent. All night, he had felt it: a resistance, a grounding presence pulling at the surging electricity, something steady in the storm.

The elderly couple caught his attention first. Electricity arced toward them like predatory fire. Renji stepped forward instinctively, palms raised. Sparks recoiled at his touch, bending, curling, obedient but still sharp.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice firm despite the tremor in his own limbs. “Don’t move. Just breathe.”

And then Hina appeared at the edge of the street.

Her breath caught. Sparks crawling along the boy’s hands. Electricity alive, but disciplined, raw. Dangerous.

Her stomach dropped. Recognition sparked—not a memory, but a pulse in her chest, mirrored by the vibration beneath her feet.

“That’s him,” she whispered.

“Get away from them!” she shouted, stepping forward, feet grounding her firmly.

Renji turned sharply. “What—no! I’m helping!”

Hina planted herself between him and the elderly couple. Palm pressed against the asphalt. The vibration beneath her intensified, a slow, powerful tug downward.

“Don’t touch them,” she said, voice calm but sharp. “I don’t know what you are, but this stops now.”

The electricity flinched, arcs snapping downward. Renji felt the tug immediately. Control wavered, a thread pulled from him.

His eyes widened. “Wait… you can feel it?”

Hina nodded once. Sparks leapt faintly from her fingers, merging with the city beneath them.

“Step back. Now.”

Renji obeyed, lowering his hands. The surge didn’t lash out. It curved gently into the street, harmless. For the first time in hours, the air felt less tense.

Neither moved for a long moment. Electricity hovered between them like a living thread, testing, observing, hesitant.

“Then prove it,” Hina whispered.

Renji knelt a few feet from the couple, palm on the wet asphalt, eyes closed. The arcs responded, bending around the people, grounding harmlessly into the veins of the city. Hina felt it—every surge, every return, every pulse. A quiet rhythm formed, linking them without words.

The elderly woman gasped. Her husband helped her upright. Both stared at the two teenagers, strangers in a suddenly quieter street.

“You’re safe now,” Renji said softly.

He turned toward Hina. Voice low. “You’re the one. The grounding force. The resistance.”

Hina exhaled. The currents beneath her feet softened, flowing smoother, less chaotic.

“You’re Renji Nakamura,” she said, more to herself than him. “I thought you were—”

“A villain?” he offered dryly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I thought I was alone.”

Electricity hummed softly between them, tense but contained. A thread linking their pulses, faint yet undeniable.

Silence settled, heavy but not hostile.

“We have to help people,” Hina said finally.

Renji nodded. Hands still, sensing each flicker, every subtle tug of her influence threading through the city.

“Together,” he agreed. For the first time since the lab accident, hope sparked in him—hesitant, fragile, but real. Hina led the way.

They moved carefully through the streets. Sparks fizzled harmlessly, guided by their combined awareness. Hina remained barefoot until they reached dry pavement, grounding fully, before slipping on her shoes.

“You don’t have to come,” she said quietly. “If you want to disappear again.”

Renji shook his head. “I’ve been alone since the accident. I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore.”

She nodded once. “Stay close,” she instructed. “My family doesn’t know… everything yet.”

The apartment door slid open.

“Hina?” her mother’s voice called. “Is that you?”

“I’m home,” Hina replied. She paused, then stepped aside. “And I brought someone.”

Renji bowed instinctively. “Um—hello. I’m Renji.”

Her parents appeared. Her father stiffened. “…You’re the boy from the news,” he said slowly.

“Yes, sir,” Renji replied.

Hina stepped forward. “He helped me today. With the people on the street. He’s not dangerous.”

“That’s debatable,” Haruto said from the living room, eyes narrowing. “I remember you—the lab survivor. You absorbed the surge.”

Renji met his gaze. “I didn’t choose it.”

Silence stretched. Her mother exhaled softly. “Come inside before the neighbors start asking questions.”

They sat around the low table. Tea went untouched. The air held its breath.

“Something happened at the lab,” Hina began. “And it’s spreading. The electricity… it’s alive.”

Renji nodded. “It’s being pulled, directed. By someone.”

“By who?” Haruto asked.

“My mentor,” Renji said quietly. “Dr. Ishikawa. He’s alive. But not the way he should be.”

Eyes widened. “A scientist turned himself into… whatever this is?” her father asked.

Renji shook his head. “I don’t think it was intentional. But he’s controlling the flow.”

Hina rested her palm on the floor. The faint hum beneath the apartment responded.

“I can stop it,” she said softly. “At least locally. Ground it. Calm it.”

Haruto leaned forward. “You’re both interacting with the same system—from different ends.”

Renji nodded slowly. “Exactly.”

Her mother’s voice was soft but firm. “Talking is important. But if you’re going to help people, you need to understand what you can do—and what you can’t.”

Hina nodded. “There’s an abandoned warehouse near the river. No residents. No active grid.”

Renji raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking of testing it.”

“I don’t want to guess anymore. Not with people nearby.”

Haruto stood. “Then if you’re doing this, you’re not blind. I’ll monitor fluctuations. Make sure you don’t overload anything.”

Her parents exchanged glances. “Be careful,” her father said.

Renji bowed. “We will.”

At the door, he paused. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For trusting me.”

Hina met his eyes. Sparks flickered faintly between them, but not dangerously. “You earned it.”

Outside, Tokyo pulsed, unsettled. Somewhere near the river, the empty warehouse waited—silent, dark, and ready to reveal what they truly were capable of.