Unaligned Sparks

Hina moved slowly through the corridors of the government facility, each step deliberate, careful, testing her legs, her balance, the residual tremors of power still echoing faintly beneath her feet. Her muscles ached from the aftermath of the surge, but it wasn’t fatigue that pressed on her chest—it was unease. The memory of the concentrated strike, of Renji’s frantic reaction, lingered like static in her mind. She could feel the pull of it even now, subtle, almost magnetic, and she clenched her jaw to keep herself in check.

The hum beneath the reinforced floors thrummed steadily, a low vibration that anchored her senses. It was grounding, a reminder that despite everything, the facility—this controlled space—was safe. Slowly, she tested her footing, walking past sterile walls and glowing panels, each step reinforcing her confidence. She didn’t want to acknowledge how much she relied on Renji. Not yet.

Haruto appeared at the far end of the hallway, clipboard in hand, moving with his usual quiet precision. “Hina,” he called softly, waiting until she was close. There was a hesitation in his tone, careful, measured. “I… I think Renji’s gotten a little too attached to you.”

Her steps faltered. “What?” she whispered, disbelief curling in her throat.

Haruto met her gaze, cautious but firm. “I mean… his focus, his worry—it’s more than necessary. Too much. I thought you should know.”

The words hit her like a ripple through water. Too attached. Her chest tightened, stomach coiling uncomfortably. She blinked rapidly, trying to absorb the implication without letting it show. I can’t… I can’t depend on him like that. Not now. Not ever. I need to keep my distance.

She forced herself to nod faintly. “Thanks,” she said quietly, turning away deliberately, avoiding his eyes. Space. She needed it—from everything, from him, from the pull she refused to name.

Hours later, the calm shattered. Alarms blared, red lights strobing across metallic walls. The sharp crackle of overcharged circuits filled the air, and the comms echoed with urgency: “Spike detected in the Ginza district. High intensity. Moving fast. Could be Ishikawa.”

Haruto approached, his expression cautious. “Hina,” he said softly, stopping a few feet away. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go. You’re not fully recovered. The adrenaline will carry you through, but your focus… your control—it’s not where it needs to be.”

She shook her head, voice steady despite the weariness. “I’m okay, Haruto. I can handle it. Really.”

He hesitated, glancing toward Renji, who was adjusting the straps on his jacket, sparks crawling along his sleeves like restless serpents. Their eyes met briefly—a silent acknowledgment of the trust and tension between them.

Haruto sighed, rubbing his face. “Fine… if you insist. Just… be careful.”

She gave a small nod and moved toward the exit where the tactical team waited. Haruto lingered a moment, then leaned toward Renji. “Keep an eye on her. Really watch her. Don’t let her push herself too far.”

Renji’s jaw tightened, eyes following her as she approached the armored vehicles. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her,” he muttered quietly.

Haruto’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Good. Because she’ll be relying on you more than anyone else out there.”

The convoy rolled silently through Tokyo streets, black armored vehicles cutting through the night. Sparks crawled along Renji’s hands, tracing currents in the wires above, mapping the energy like a living chart only he could read. Hina moved ahead of him, grounding arcs of electricity around her.

But she did not follow his guidance. She deliberately moved her currents apart from his, flowing in patterns that conflicted with his instructions. Every instinct in her body screamed caution, but her mind insisted on distance. He can’t know how much I feel. He can’t see it. I need to do this alone.

“Wait—Hina, hold back!” Renji shouted as sparks arced more aggressively, attempting to force synchronization.

She cast him a sharp glance, then ignored it, letting her grounding patterns flow her own way. Arcs flared unpredictably along cables and transformers, sparks jumping in sharp, dangerous flashes. Soldiers struggled to maintain perimeters; civilians froze, watching the chaotic light show.

Renji’s jaw tightened further. “Stop splitting patterns!” he barked, frustration sharpening his voice. His hands glowed, arcs snapping dangerously, but Hina’s currents refused to obey him. They were precise, controlled, but misaligned with his.

A sudden chill swept over Ginza. Electricity moved like liquid metal, purposeful, intelligent. Ishikawa appeared, his eyes glowing faintly, hands tracing arcs that fed from the city like a predator sensing prey.

Renji’s gaze locked on him. “This isn’t over,” he growled.

Ishikawa’s grin widened. “Of course not. I’ve been waiting. Can’t wait to see how you handle it.”

The surge escalated, weaving unpredictably through the streets. Hina’s grounding kept her from losing control, but the lack of coordination with Renji left openings. Sparks danced erratically, transformers hissed, streetlights snapped. Soldiers called out warnings, civilians ducked, and the duo struggled to contain what Ishikawa unleashed.

They tried to compensate, but the misalignment was too great. Even combined with the tactical team, the arcs could not be stabilized. Hina moved independently, Renji attempted to align—but their currents clashed.

Finally, the realization hit: they could not win this one.

“Pull back!” Renji shouted, frustration and worry cracking his voice.

Hina nodded slightly, following his lead for the first time as they retreated with the squad. Sparks fizzled harmlessly around them, but Ginza remained a storm of uncontrolled electricity. Ishikawa watched from the shadows, eyes gleaming with triumph.

“This time…” he murmured, voice low, cruel. “You didn’t succeed. But don’t worry… next time, it will be even more interesting.”

Back at the command hub, Hina leaned against a wall, chest heaving from exertion and residual adrenaline. Her limbs trembled slightly, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying every misaligned arc, every ignored signal, every flash of sparks that could have been coordinated with Renji.

Renji approached, jaw tight, eyes flickering with the remains of his energy. Sparks jumped along his fingertips as he stopped in front of her. “What the hell was that?” His voice was low, charged with worry. “You can’t just do whatever you want. You put everyone at risk!”

Hina stepped aside, avoiding his gaze. “I… I was fine,” she said softly, defensive but careful to mask her feelings.

Renji grabbed her wrist. She froze, body stiffening, sparks flickering faintly, harmlessly, highlighting the tension. “Do you realize how close that was? You could’ve been seriously hurt!”

Hina didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the floor. She kept her thoughts contained, her emotions locked away. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, but outwardly, she was composed.

Haruto observed from across the room. His brow furrowed as he watched the exchange. I shouldn’t have said anything… not yet. She’s clearly more affected by him than she lets on. Now look at this—pushing him away in battle. That wasn’t smart.

Renji noticed the subtle recoil in her body, the hesitation, the deliberate boundary. Slowly, he let go of her wrist, stepping back. He didn’t press closer. He understood, finally: she was pushing him away—intentionally.

Hina’s eyes remained downcast. The absence of his hand left a faint ache where warmth had been, but she did not look at him. Sparks danced harmlessly between them, a subtle acknowledgment of their connection, unspoken yet undeniable.

Renji took a careful step back, chest tight. He understood her intention—he wasn’t angry, but cautious. And in the quiet that followed, the truth was impossible to ignore: the pull, the concern, the feelings they both tried to hide, mirrored perfectly.

Outside, the city continued to hum with residual currents. Ginza had been lost this time. Ishikawa had won the round, leaving scars of electricity and chaos behind. But one thing was clear: Hina and Renji’s bond, complicated and tangled as it was, pulsed stronger than any current.