Page 102 of Neon Flux

I should’ve felt something. Pride. Disgust. Relief.

But all I felt was hollow.

Then, footsteps, slow and deliberate.

I stiffened, pulse spiking as I turned toward the alley entrance.

Three boys stood there, silhouetted by the sickly neon glow from the street. They weren’t much older than me, but I’d never had a proper meal in my life, so I was still waiting on my growth spurt. The seams of their jackets glowed orange, and I caught flashes of a flaming neon kitsune—young Chrome Kitsune initiates.

“Heard the elders talking about the blue-haired freak with EM Flux. Thought you might be something special.” The speaker was clearly the leader of this little gang. “I heard they even paid for your fancy EM implants.”

Fancy indeed. My face ached every day, and my left arm still twitched uncontrollably all the time.

“Nah, I heard its ’cause his mom fucked Hinokawa-san. Must have some sweet pussy on her.”

“Not that sweet, she still owes him money.”

They laughed, and I ran at the leader. He clocked me so hard I hit the ground, my vision going completely black.

“You think you’re something special, huh, kirakirashita? Just look like fucking gutter trash to me.”

Funny. After all this time, I still don’t know the kid’s name. But I remember his face. I’ll always remember his face. Dark hair pulled back in a messy bun framed his square jaw, and beneath his monolids, his eyes glowed molten orange.

Flux was notoriously difficult to control during puberty, and this kid didn’t know what the fuck he was doing either.

Didn’t matter.

He lit his fist on fire and struck me across the face. The searing pain cut through the haze, and I screamed, clutching my cheek. Before I could react, the others descended on me—fists and feet flying. Each blow was a reminder of my worth. They were relentless, their laughter mixing with the sickeningthudsof fists against flesh.

“Not so special now, huh?” One of them sneered, delivering a brutal kick to my ribs, and I felt them crack. I gasped for breath, curling into a ball as the beating continued. Copper coated the inside of my mouth, but I wasn’t about to fucking cry.

“You’re nothing,” the leader spat, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head up. His molten-orange eyes burned into mine. “Remember that.” He slammed my face into the filthy alley ground. The still-new implant in my face shifted, and the pain that shot through my skull was white-hot.

I remember thinking there was nothing worse he could do to me.

I was wrong.

I heard his zipper as his friends continued their assault, another rib cracking. Warm piss splattered across my back and dripped down my neck.

The stink filled my nose, mixing with the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. My cheek was pressed to the ground,my breath coming in ragged gasps. All I could hear was my heartbeat—erratic, unsteady—as white-hot rage built inside me.

The bastard laughed, his grip still tangled in my hair. “You really are nothing.” He sneered. “Just a—”

I didn’t let him finish.

The piss was still dripping, seeping into my torn shirt.

That was all I needed.

Flux surged through me—sharp, volatile. My skin prickled as I sent the charge down, letting it crackle through the liquid pooling beneath me.

The reaction was instant.

The leader’s laughter twisted into a strangled scream as the current struck. His body locked up, muscles seizing. His glowing eyes went wide with shock. Smoke curled from his mouth as the electricity ripped through him, cooking him from the inside out. His hands jerked, trying to let go, trying to escape—but it was too late. He convulsed once, twice. Then went still.

I shoved him off. He hit the ground like a sack of dead weight, steam rising from his slack jaw.

In the end, he smelled exactly like that fried rat.