Chapter 4: Training Sparks
Raika had no idea how she had ended up here—standing in the middle of a stormy training field with the one boy she absolutely refused to admit she maybe-sort-of had feelings for: Gojo.
"Hurry up, Lightning Queen," Gojo teased, balancing a glowing orb of elemental energy in one hand while grinning like a mischievous fox. "Don't tell me you're scared of a few sparks."
Raika crossed her arms, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and electric irritation. "B-baka! I'm not scared! I just don't want to waste my powers on an idiot like you!"
With a crackle, a bolt of static leapt from her twin tails to the ground.
They had been paired up for elemental harmony training—an ancient Spirit Trial to test synchronization between fairy-kind and Spirit God candidates. For most duos, it meant holding hands and combining energies. For Raika and Gojo, it meant arguments, zaps, and lots of flying debris.
In the distance, Mizuki, Suma, and Hiyori watched from a safety ridge, snacks in hand and binoculars raised.
"Ooh, he's totally getting under her skin," Hiyori grinned. "You think she'll confess by zapping him into the stratosphere?"
"No," Suma said confidently. "She'll fall on top of him in a shocking blaze of tsundere glory."
"Why are we even here?" Mizuki muttered, arms crossed, but clearly invested.
Back in the storm field, Gojo activated his spirit flow, channeling raw wind into his legs. "Alright, Raika. We just have to match energies for five seconds. That's it. Just hold my hand and focus."
She sputtered. "W-Why would I ever hold your hand?! Gross! Who knows where it's been?!"
A flash of thunder echoed overhead. The ritual circle beneath their feet pulsed with spirit glyphs.
"Because if you don't," Gojo smirked, stepping closer, "you'll fail. And then you'll have to redo the entire trial. With me. All week."
Raika made a squeaky noise. But then, reluctantly, she reached out, hand trembling.
Their fingers barely touched when a massive bolt of energy surged between them.
BOOOOM!
The world turned white.
When Raika opened her eyes, she was flat on her back, dress torn at the hem, hair frizzed up in all directions. Her chest rose and fell quickly. And standing over her, covered in soot and grinning like an idiot, was Gojo.
"You okay, Thunder Queen?"
"Y-you... you IDIOT!" she yelled, cheeks beet red. "What were you doing with your energy flow?!"
"I was syncing! You were the one thinking all those naughty thoughts."
She immediately zapped him with a mini thunderbolt, but her aim was off—he caught it in his hand, laughing.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered, sitting up. But her legs wobbled.
Gojo crouched beside her. "You're overcharged. Come on. I got you."
Without waiting, he lifted her bridal-style. She gasped and tried to protest, fists weakly pounding his chest. But the heat of his body... the scent of storm air clinging to him...
Her heart thumped. Sparks flickered around her head.
"Y-you better not say anything embarrassing," she mumbled.
Gojo's voice was gentle. "You don't have to push yourself so hard, Raika. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Just be you."
Her face went nuclear. Static exploded from her twin tails, zapping him in the chin. "I-I'm not doing this because of you, okay?! I just... I like training! That's all!"
They reached the edge of the field, where the other girls were waiting.
"Aww," Suma cooed. "Look at them, all sweaty and close."
"I give it one more training session before she kisses him by accident," Hiyori smirked.
"She almost melted the power grid," Mizuki added flatly.
Gojo gently lowered Raika onto a bench and wiped soot off her cheek with his sleeve. "There. Back to her normal tsundere glory."
Raika looked away. Her fists clenched. Her face was burning.
"Idiot," she whispered.
But that night, in her dorm room, she opened her hidden drawer and pulled out a fresh sheet of pink paper.
Another anonymous letter.
Dear Gojo,
You were kind today. I hate how kind you are. It makes my heart race and my powers short out. Baka.
She folded it carefully and slipped it into a new envelope.
Tomorrow, she'd drop it in his locker.
Maybe someday she'd even sign her name.