The first thing Kenji felt wasn't power. It was the smell—the sharp, metallic scent of burnt ozone mixed with wet asphalt.
He groaned, his eyes fluttering open to a world that looked like a glitched VHS tape. He was lying in a narrow alleyway two blocks from the school. The concrete beneath him was spider-webbed with cracks, a perfect, blackened circle marking the spot where he'd hit the ground. Rainwater hissed as it flowed into the shallow crater, turning into steam the second it touched his skin.
"Ugh... did anyone get the license plate on that god?" Kenji croaked. He tried to push himself up, but his hands slipped. He stared down at his palms and let out a very un-heroic yelp.
Veins of faint, crimson light were pulsing under his skin, rhythmic and steady, like a second heartbeat. Every time the light flared, the puddles around him rippled.
"Okay, Kenji. Stay calm. This is the part where the protagonist realizes he's not a background character anymore," he whispered, his voice trembling. He reached for his glasses, which had somehow survived the blast, though they were now humming with a low-frequency vibration.
As he slid them onto his nose, the world snapped into terrifying clarity.
He didn't just see the alley; he felt the electricity in the streetlamp flickering above him. He could hear the hum of the power lines three stories up. When a stray cat knocked over a trash can at the end of the alley, Kenji flinched—and the world suddenly slowed to a crawl.
The falling raindrops froze in mid-air, shimmering like tiny diamonds. The cat was suspended in a leap, every hair on its back visible.
Wait, am I... lagging? Kenji thought, panic rising. No. Everything else is lagging. I'm... I'm moving too fast!
He took one panicked step toward the alley exit, intending to just walk home. Instead, his foot hit the pavement with a sound like a gunshot. A spray of red sparks ignited under his sneaker, and in a literal blink, he wasn't at the exit—he was three streets away, slammed face-first into a brick wall behind a dumpster.
He slid down the wall, dazed, his lungs burning as if he'd just run a marathon in three seconds. His stomach let out a roar so loud it rivaled the thunder.
"Note to self," Kenji gasped, clutching his midsection. "Red lightning makes you fast... but it also makes you really, really hungry. I would literally kill for a pork cutlet bowl right now."
As he sat there, shivering and glowing, a shadow fell over the alley entrance. Kenji froze. The red pulse under his skin began to thrum faster—a warning.