The Surge Target

Haruto’s fingers flew over the keyboard, scanning Tokyo’s electrical grid with the software he had rigged in the government facility. Streams of data flowed across the monitors, arcs of current traced in real-time, districts lighting up with every spike. The city pulsed beneath his eyes, a living network of energy—but something felt off.

“Wait… that’s not normal,” he muttered. A bright, concentrated cluster of energy had flared up in Shinjuku, unlike any previous surges. Not random, not chaotic—it moved with purpose. But the system didn’t show who—or what—it was targeting.

“Hina, Renji,” he said quickly over the comm. “There’s an abnormal spike in Shinjuku. Extremely intense. I don’t know why or what it’s hitting, but it’s moving as if it’s tracking someone.”

Hina’s pulse quickened. She glanced at Renji, who was already tightening the straps on his jacket, sparks dancing faintly along his sleeves. “We’ll go,” she said firmly. “Haruto, keep tracking. Tell us if it moves.”

“I’ll monitor from here,” Haruto replied. “We don’t know what it’s doing, but be careful. Don’t underestimate it.”

The two of them, accompanied by a small tactical team of government soldiers equipped with EM-shielded armor, moved quickly through the city. Haruto’s mapping had pinpointed a narrow street surrounded by tall office buildings—a corridor that could easily channel electricity. The air was thick with static, the faint hum beneath the pavement almost tangible, warning of the storm to come.

“He’s going to hit something—or someone,” Renji muttered, eyes scanning the wires overhead. Sparks arced along his fingertips, restless and impatient.

Hina’s feet were planted firmly on the asphalt, grounding her presence with confidence rather than desperation. The subtle hum beneath the street matched her heartbeat, steadying her nerves. “We’ll see it when it happens,” she said quietly.

As they approached, the anomaly in the city grid intensified. Streetlights flickered violently, cables overhead jumped with jagged arcs, and the faint smell of ozone burned at the back of their throats. The tactical team fanned out, scanning the surroundings.

Then it happened.

A bolt of electricity surged from the nearest transformer, striking toward the center of the street with precision. Renji reacted instinctively, raising his hands, arcs snapping from his fingertips to intercept the current. Sparks collided with sparks, the hum escalating into a sharp, electric scream.

Hina’s heart skipped. The surge didn’t scatter randomly—it moved deliberately toward Renji. She realized instinctively: someone was concentrating on him.

The first bolts slammed into the air around Renji, forcing him back. He gritted his teeth, sweat forming at his temples. “It’s too focused! I can’t—”

Suddenly, a massive surge struck, and Renji twisted to redirect it, but the force was overwhelming. Sparks clung to his arms like living creatures, and he stumbled.

Hina reacted instantly, stepping forward to shield him. She planted herself firmly on the asphalt, but the concentrated strike was too precise. The electricity lanced through the air, grazing her shoulder and torso. Pain exploded along her body in a white-hot shock, and she staggered. Her knees buckled. The world tilted violently, and the streetlights overhead blurred into streaks of white.

Her vision went dark.

“HINA!” Renji screamed, rushing to catch her as she collapsed, her body limp. Sparks fizzled harmlessly from her boots, but her grounding had been knocked out of sync by the surge. He scooped her up instinctively, panic and guilt clawing through him.

“Renji…” Hina murmured faintly, a single breath of consciousness before the world went black.

The tactical team moved quickly, forming a protective perimeter as Renji cradled her. The concentrated current scattered, misfiring harmlessly around them. Haruto’s voice came over the comm, tense and fast. “Spike’s dissipated… but Hina’s unconscious. Get her to the facility, now!”

Renji’s heart hammered. “No—she’s fine! She’ll wake up!”

“She could be seriously hurt, Renji! Move!” Haruto barked, overriding his hesitation.

They raced through the streets, electricity humming faintly around them, Hina’s body pressed against Renji’s chest. Every flicker of light overhead made him flinch. His mind raced with fear—what if this had been too much for her?

By the time they reached the government facility, the medics were ready. Hina was carried quickly into the high-tech medical bay, monitors tracking her vitals. Renji followed closely, refusing to let her out of his sight.

“She’s stable, but unconscious,” one medic said calmly. “You’ll need to let her rest.”

Renji’s shoulders slumped, but he couldn’t stop pacing. Sparks flickered faintly at his fingertips as residual anxiety surged through him. “I should have—” he muttered under his breath. “I should have protected her better.”

Haruto watched silently from the observation room, noting the way Renji’s eyes lingered on Hina, how his body tensed whenever the monitors beeped. He typed rapidly, pulling up city-wide data while keeping an eye on the two of them. The kid’s worried sick. Too much. Way too much, Haruto thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He’s not just fighting electricity—he’s carrying her in more ways than one.

Renji sank into the chair beside Hina’s hospital bed, still gripping her hand lightly. Sparks flickered faintly around his fingers, harmless but restless. His chest ached—not from the fight, but from seeing her like this, vulnerable.

Hina’s parents and Yui arrived soon after, escorted by security. Their faces were pale with concern, but seeing her stable—if unconscious—brought a faint, fragile relief. Yui hovered near the foot of the bed, clutching her older sister’s jacket, small hands trembling.

Renji’s gaze never left Hina. “She… she was targeted because of me,” he muttered, voice tight. “I couldn’t stop it in time.”

Her father placed a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “You did what you could. She’s alive.”

Renji shook his head, guilt weighing down his chest. “Alive, yes… but she’s hurt. Because of me. I should’ve—”

Hina’s mother placed her hand gently over his. “Renji, enough. She’s going to wake up. What matters is that you kept her safe afterward.”

Haruto, observing from the side, leaned back in his chair. He had already pulled up detailed readings from the incident: the spike’s precise path, the way Hina’s grounding disrupted it just enough to save Renji, how the team’s positioning prevented collateral damage. He could see it: Renji’s panic, the way he refused to let her go, the worry far beyond reason. He’s connected to her, Haruto thought, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Not just as a teammate. Not just as a friend.

Outside the reinforced windows, the city hummed with subdued electricity. Ishikawa was still out there, monitoring, waiting for the right opportunity. The strike had failed to isolate Renji entirely—Hina had stepped in, deflecting the full force of the attack—but the target had been clear.

Renji rubbed his face, exhausted and restless, as he kept one hand lightly on Hina’s chest. “I… I won’t let him—” His voice cracked slightly.

“You can’t carry it alone,” Haruto said softly. “But you’re not alone either. Hina’s tough, and she’ll wake up soon enough. For now, focus on being calm—she needs that more than anything.”

Renji exhaled slowly, tension leaving his shoulders in small increments. He glanced down at Hina’s peaceful, if unconscious, face, and the faint hum beneath the floor seemed to pulse in quiet solidarity with them.

“Next time,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “I’ll be ready… I won’t let her get hurt.”

Haruto’s eyes softened as he typed rapidly, updating the system. “Yeah… I see it. You care too much for your own good. But right now, you’re exactly where you need to be.”

Yui stepped closer, placing a small hand on Renji’s arm. “She’ll wake up,” she said gently. “And when she does… she’ll see you were here.”

Renji nodded, squeezing Hina’s hand lightly, sparks leaping faintly. For now, the storm outside could wait. In this room, the team—family, friends, and allies—stood together, tethered to each other as the city prepared for the next move.

And somewhere in the currents, Ishikawa watched, calculating, smiling faintly. The perfect storm had been interrupted—but he would wait. Wait until the tension was unbearable, until the stakes were higher. Until the next strike could no longer be avoided.

For now, the city breathed, quiet and wary, as Renji sat beside Hina, guilt and concern interwoven with the unspoken bond that had begun to form—and Haruto quietly observed, noting it all.