As the dust settled from the explosion, S.E.I.D.'s mechanical voice provided information through their communication devices.
"*Wisps are small balls of light which carry concentrated spirit energy,*" the device explained as Anjero watched one of the thugs slip a glowing container into his jacket. "*When crushed, they give anyone temporary spirit energy for approximately ten minutes.*"
Anjero's eyes widened at the implications. Even he could understand that putting spirit energy in the wrong hands could be disastrous.
"Hey, stop right there!" Yoku shouted, his voice carrying a surprising authority despite his youthful appearance. Yellow sparks danced more intensely around his fingertips, casting strange shadows across his determined face.
The thugs paused, turning slowly. Their leader—a burly man with a scar running through his left eyebrow—assessed the group with calculating eyes. His gaze lingered on their school uniforms, and his tense posture relaxed slightly.
"Oh shit, it's the spirit guardians," he said, before a dismissive smirk spread across his face. "Oh wait, they're just kids. We can take them on."
Mashù stepped forward, cracking his knuckles with deliberate slowness. His dual-colored aura—gold and crimson—flared around him like twin flames, causing the nearest thug to take an involuntary step back. A dangerous smile played on Mashù's lips, revealing teeth that seemed just a touch too sharp.
"Hehe... I'll take these four on my own," he said, his voice low and thrumming with anticipation. He jerked his chin toward the other three thugs who were already making their escape down a side alley. "Y'all take the other three that are getting away."
Anjero rubbed his bruised shoulder from where he'd landed after the explosion, concern etching lines in his forehead. "Ouch... will he be OK?"
Kamira grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet with surprising strength. Her crimson-tinged eyes never left the retreating forms of the other thugs. "Don't worry about him; he's been through worse. Let's worry about those other guys."
Without waiting for a response, she took off in pursuit, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Yoku followed, giving Anjero an encouraging slap on the back that nearly sent him sprawling again.
"Come on, newbie! Don't want to miss the fun!"
Reluctantly, Anjero followed, casting one last glance back at Mashù. The spirit guardian was calmly wrapping his hands with red fighting wraps, seemingly unconcerned about being outnumbered.
"Why don't you all come at me at once," Mashù taunted, beckoning with one wrapped hand.
The thugs exchanged glances, then charged as one.
Mashù closed his eyes briefly, the gold aura intensifying. "OK, Qoyntauz, don't let me down," he whispered. His eyes snapped open, now blazing crimson. "REVENGE RUSH!"
As Anjero followed Kamira and Yoku through the winding streets, the sounds of combat faded behind them—the thuds of impacts, cries of pain, and, most disturbingly, Mashù's laughter.
* * *
Three miles later, they finally cornered the remaining thugs in a dead-end alley. Sweat plastered Anjero's hair to his forehead, and his lungs burned with each ragged breath. Kamira, by contrast, looked as if she'd been on a light jog, not even a strand of her crimson-highlighted hair out of place.
"Hey, stop right now or that's yo ass!" she called out, her voice echoing between the narrow walls of the alley.
The thugs turned slowly, their backs to the brick wall that blocked their escape. The leader—a woman with a shock of white hair—curled her lip in a snarl.
"Shit, they caught up," she growled to her companions. "I guess we have no choice, guys. It's time to use *it*."
With practiced coordination, each thug pulled a small cartridge from their pockets. Inside each one, a wisp pulsed with ethereal light—like a captured star. With a synchronized motion, they crushed the wisps in their bare hands.
The effect was immediate and horrifying. The thugs' bodies contorted as they screamed in agony, their flesh momentarily becoming translucent enough to see the wisp energy flowing through their veins like liquid light.
"What is going on?" Anjero gasped, taking an involuntary step backward.
Kamira's expression hardened as she pushed Anjero behind her. "They're merging with wisps to gain temporary spirit energy. Anjero, get back, and Yoku, get ready."
"Right!" Yoku shifted his stance, his cheerful demeanor vanishing like smoke in the wind.
The thugs' screams subsided, replaced by ragged breathing that gradually steadied. The white-haired woman—Thug One—flexed her fingers, now glowing with a faint blue light that reminded Anjero of the retaliate energy he'd seen around Mashù.
"This power is amazing," she whispered, her voice vibrating with newfound energy. "No wonder the boss wants so many of these little things."
The second thug—a lanky man whose feet now barely touched the ground—grinned maniacally. "Yeah, I'm liking this."
The third—a woman whose skin seemed to ripple and shift like something was trying to escape from beneath it—rolled her shoulders. "I might have to keep some for myself."
Kamira took a step forward, her crimson eyes narrowing. "Who's your boss?"
The third thug's skin rippled more violently as she laughed. "Like we'd tell you, little lady." Her smile was all teeth, too many teeth. "Are you all ready to die?"
A muscle twitched in Kamira's jaw, the only outward sign of her irritation. "Huh, you have no idea how many times I've heard that."
With fluid motions born of practice, Kamira slipped on a pair of twin bracelets that immediately began to glow with crimson energy. Beside her, Yoku placed a pair of headphones over his ears, the yellow glow from them pulsing in time with an inaudible beat.
"I guess you leave us no choice," Yoku said, his usual lighthearted tone replaced by something harder.
Kamira rolled her neck, the sound of popping vertebrae audible in the tense silence. "Hulken Rage!"
The transformation was startling to witness. Kamira's slight frame began to expand, muscles swelling beneath her skin like she was being inflated from within. Her face contorted into a mask of fury, eyes blazing fully crimson now, with no visible pupils or whites. Even her voice changed, deepening to a guttural growl.
"Bring it on, mfs," she snarled.
Simultaneously, Yoku extended his hands, and with a flicker of yellow energy, two intricately designed pistols materialized from thin air. The metal of the barrels seemed to shift and flow like liquid gold, never fully settling into one shape.
The thugs charged forward, their wisp-enhanced bodies moving with unnatural speed.
Thug One barreled straight for Kamira, fist raised. Kamira stood her ground, not even attempting to dodge. The punch connected with her jaw with enough force to shatter concrete, but Kamira merely rotated her head back, spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, and grinned.
"My turn," she growled.
What followed was a flurry of punches so rapid they blurred in Anjero's vision. Each impact shook the air itself, sending visible waves of force rippling outward. The thug staggered back, her body dented in impossible ways—but the wisp energy flowing through her veins rapidly restored her form.
With surprising speed, she recovered and counterattacked, landing a devastating blow that sent Kamira crashing through the brick wall of the alley.
"Hehe, I guess this retaliate power really works," the thug gloated, admiring her glowing fists. "Too bad for you, little lady, but you won't be able to beat me."
From the rubble, Kamira emerged, wiping blood from her split lip with the back of her hand. Her eyes glowed brighter, like hot coals being stoked. "I'm not done yet, you cocky bastard. Come on!!!"
Meanwhile, Yoku was having his own troubles. The lanky thug—Thug Two—had developed speed that bordered on teleportation, bouncing off walls so rapidly he left afterimages in his wake. The third thug's skin had transformed entirely, now dripping with a corrosive slime that sizzled when it touched the ground.
Yoku fired round after round from his spirit pistols, but the bullets either missed Thug Two entirely or dissolved in midair before reaching Thug Three.
"Do you really think those lousy bullets can hit me?" Thug Two taunted, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once.
Thug Three's face rippled, her features momentarily dissolving before reforming. "Stop playing around. We only have so long before these powers are gone."
Frustration flashed across Yoku's face as another volley of shots went wide. "I can't hit them," he muttered. "Aww man, this is gonna suck." Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. "Ricochet Bullet!"
The change in his stance was subtle but significant—his body relaxed, head tilting slightly as if listening to something beyond human hearing. When he fired again, it was a single shot aimed at the wall to his left, at seemingly nothing.
The bullet struck the brick and bounced—not once, but six times, each ricochet changing angle in ways that defied physics. On the seventh bounce, it struck Thug Two directly in the temple just as he materialized for another attack. He collapsed instantly, his accelerated body suddenly limp.
Horror gripped Anjero's chest. "Did you just kill him?"
Yoku turned slightly, a reassuring smile on his face despite the intensity of the ongoing battle. "No, I have the ability to modify my bullets to make them lethal and non-lethal."
Relief flooded through Anjero. "Oh, OK. Nice."
"You'll pay for killing him!" Thug Three screamed, her face contorting into something barely human.
Yoku sighed, exasperation evident in his slumped shoulders. "Did you not hear anything I just said? He's only asleep."
But his words came too late. Thug Three had used the exchange as a distraction, her slime-covered body sliding across the ground with unnatural speed. Before Yoku could react, she delivered a devastating uppercut that connected with his chin. His headphones flew off, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Now that that's done..." The thug turned slowly toward Anjero, her face reshaping into a grotesque smile. "What's your power?"
Anjero's throat went dry. He took a step back, hands raised defensively. "I don't have one."
The thug's smile widened impossibly. "Well, this should be easy."
From across the alley, where she was still locked in combat with Thug One, Kamira's eyes widened in alarm. "Yuko, Anjero, no!"
Her momentary distraction cost her. Thug One's boot connected with her sternum, driving her to the ground with enough force to crater the pavement.
"Your fight is with me!" Thug One snarled, looming over Kamira with a menacing smile.
Kamira spat blood, her massive frame trembling with rage. "Err—" she coughed, the sound wet and concerning. "You're really pissing me off." Her hands clenched into fists so tight that her knuckles bleached white, fury etched into every line of her face at being unable to help her comrades.
Anjero knew he was outmatched, but some stubborn part of him refused to run. He took a fighting stance—one he'd learned in the required self-defense classes at his previous school. His hands shook slightly, but he kept them raised.
Thug Three tilted her head, studying him with curiosity. "Oh, so you know how to fight, huh?"
Adrenaline flooded Anjero's system as he saw an opening. He lunged forward, driving his right fist into the thug's ribs with every ounce of strength he possessed.
It was like punching rubber. His fist sank into her slime-covered body, and she didn't even flinch.
"You dumb little shit," she growled, all amusement gone from her voice.
She retaliated by hurling globs of slime at him. Anjero dodged the first few by pure instinct, his body moving before his mind could process the danger. But he was tiring quickly, his movements becoming sluggish. When he tried to dodge again, she anticipated his movement and caught his left calf in her grip.
The pain was immediate and overwhelming—a burning sensation like nothing he'd ever experienced. The slime ate through his pants leg and into the flesh beneath, sending agony shooting up his leg.
"AHHHHHH!" His scream echoed off the alley walls.
Thug Three released him, watching with satisfaction as he collapsed. "Haha! I'll kill you for hurting me, you stupid bastard."
Anjero could barely hear her through the roaring in his ears. He stared blankly ahead, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. His leg felt like it had been dipped in acid, the flesh visibly blistering and smoking where the slime had made contact.
*Why did I even come here?* he thought, despair washing over him. *I have no spirit. I guess I'll just die here.* He closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow.
"*That's not true,*" a voice resonated within his mind—calm, clear, and somehow familiar despite never having heard it before.
Anjero's consciousness retreated inward, away from the pain of his physical body. *Who's there?*
In the darkness behind his eyelids, a shape began to form—fluid and ever-changing, like looking at a reflection in moving water. It coalesced into a vaguely humanoid figure composed entirely of shimmering blue liquid.
"*I am Aalto, the Spirit of Water. I will be your spirit from now on until you die,*" the figure said, its voice rippling like waves against a shore.
Confusion and hope warred within Anjero. *Why didn't you show up sooner? And... water?*
The spirit's form rippled in what might have been amusement. "*It's because I'm a more powerful spirit, so it took me longer to manifest than others. Listen, I'll take over this time and heal your wounds, but you'll have to learn how to use my power on your own after this, OK?*"
Desperation overrode Anjero's skepticism. *Alright, Aalto. Take it away.*
The world shifted back into focus, but everything seemed different—sharper, clearer, as if he was seeing through enhanced senses. He was aware of the water vapor in the air, the traces of moisture in the ground beneath him, even the water content of the bodies around him.
Just as Thug Three was about to strike again, her slime-covered fist froze in mid-air, held back by a tendril of glowing blue water that had materialized from nowhere. The water moved like it was alive, wrapping around her arm and solidifying into an unbreakable restraint.
Anjero felt himself standing, but it was as if someone else was controlling his body. The searing pain in his leg subsided as the damaged tissue began to knit itself back together, water molecules accelerating the natural healing process a thousandfold.
Thug Three's eyes widened in disbelief. "I thought you said you had no spirit energy, you freaking liar!"
Anjero felt his mouth move, but the voice that emerged was a blend of his own and something older, deeper—like water flowing over ancient stones. "I didn't, till now. But now I'm more powerful than you'll ever be."
His arm—no, *their* arm—extended, and a beam of glowing water shot forth with devastating force. Thug Three raised a shield of slime, but where the water touched it, the slime began to evaporate, steam rising from the point of contact. The barrier thinned, weakened, and finally gave way entirely. The beam struck her directly in the chest, launching her through the wall behind her.
"What the hell?!" Thug One exclaimed, her attention momentarily diverted by her companion's defeat.
Kamira, still pinned beneath her, smiled through bloodied teeth. "Who told you to look away?"
With a surge of her rage-enhanced strength, Kamira delivered an uppercut that connected with the thug's jaw. The crack of breaking bone echoed through the alley as Thug One fell backward, unconscious before she hit the ground.
As quickly as it had come, the foreign presence in Anjero's mind began to recede. *Aalto, can you heal Yoku also? He protected me.*
"*I cannot,*" the spirit replied, its voice already growing fainter. "*He is out from Spirit Exhaustion.*"
*What is that?*
"*It's when you use more spirit energy than what your body can handle. You fall asleep for a period of time to let your spirit regain its strength.*"
Anjero could feel the spirit's energy waning, like water draining from a basin. "*I need to sleep now,*" Aalto continued. "*I've used a lot of power, and I've just awoken.*"
*OK,* Anjero thought, a strange sense of loss washing over him as the spirit's presence diminished. *I'll take over.*
Control returned fully to his body, but with it came the crushing weight of fatigue. Across the alley, he saw Kamira shrinking back to her normal size, the crimson glow fading from her eyes.
She limped toward him, a mixture of surprise and respect on her face. "I see you finally got your spirit."
"Yeah..." Anjero tried to say more, to tell her about Aalto, but the world tilted sideways. "Aal—"
The word died in his throat as darkness claimed him, his body succumbing to spirit exhaustion.
As consciousness slipped away, one thought remained: Anjero Sutanrì, age 16, his spirit Aalto, Spirit of Water. He finally belonged.