The alley reeked of oil and trash.
Satoru Kojima's breaths came in sharp pulls, ribs still taped beneath his coat, ankle throbbing with each step. His vision blurred at the edges as he limped into the narrow corridor, drawn by a shout.
Two older teens had cornered a girl in a delivery uniform—barely sixteen, maybe younger. One of the thugs had a hand engulfed in hissing flame, the other's skin had hardened to metal, his arm turning a dull iron sheen as he yanked the satchel from her shoulder.
"Let her go!" Satoru barked, already sprinting.
The metal-skinned thug turned lazily, sneering. "You again? What, hobbling back for round two?"
Before Satoru could reply—
BOOM.
The street behind them detonated with a sudden concussive blast. No fire, no light—just raw air pressure that shattered the windows and sucked the breath out of the alley. Dust whipped up into the sky.
Everyone froze.
From the rooftop, a small figure dropped down like a hammer, landing between Satoru and the thugs.
Kana Fujimura. Eleven years old. Hair tied back, hoodie sleeves too long. Her fists trembled with barely-contained energy.
"Back. Off," she growled.
The air shimmered around her in waves—unstable kinetic force crackling faintly with each breath.
---
The flame-handed thug snarled. "What, a baby vigilante now?"
He raised his burning arm and hurled a fireball.
Kana didn't dodge.
She stepped forward.
CRACK—BOOM.
A shockwave burst from beneath her foot, collapsing the concrete and sending the fireball spiraling off-course. She lunged, aura flaring, and slammed her elbow into his chest with another sonic burst.
WHAM.
He hit the wall hard enough to crack brick.
The metal-armed thug lunged from the side, swinging for her ribs. His arm extended mid-swing like a telescoping piston.
Kana twisted midair, slammed her heel down—and detonated a blast beneath her own foot, blasting herself upward and over his attack. She twisted, eyes wild.
Both her fists pulsed blue.
"Try it," she spat.
The guy turned.
And ran.
---
Kana turned and offered Satoru her hand.
He took it, breathless. "You… followed me?"
She scowled. "You were limping. Figured you'd try something dumb."
"I thought you didn't care."
"I don't," she muttered, steadying him.
The girl from the delivery service sobbed quietly in the background, hugging her bruised arm.
Satoru looked at Kana's fists, still faintly glowing. "Why don't you ever use it? That quirk—it's powerful."
Kana looked away. "Because it scares people."
"...But it saved someone tonight."
She didn't answer.
---
The sirens came minutes later.
The girl gave her statement. Paramedics insisted on checking Satoru's injuries. Kana vanished before the police could ask anything.
But before she turned the corner, she called back—
"Hey."
Satoru looked up.
"If anyone asks—I wasn't here."
He smiled, bruised and aching.
"Wouldn't dream of it."