The following morning, word of Hinari's confrontation with the older students had spread like wildfire. In the cafeteria, dozens of first-years whispered her name with awe and curiosity. She kept to herself as always, sitting with the same quiet composure, but there was a subtle shift in the way others looked at her now—less pity, more caution.
Shinji sat beside her, passing her a carton of strawberry milk without saying a word. She accepted it with a small nod.
"You were amazing yesterday," Denki grinned from across the table. "But I knew there was something weird about your Jinki reading."
Hinari looked up.
"Weird?"
"Yeah! It said thunder, right? But the energy—I felt something else. It tingled. Like static, not fluid."
Denji closed his notebook and leaned forward, curiosity alight behind his lenses.
"That would make sense. Jinki readings aren't always accurate. Sometimes, especially in rare cases, the initial manifestation masks the deeper core."
Shinji raised a brow.
"So she might have two affinities?"
"Or one that's misidentified. Think of it like... compressed lightning. If you hold lightning tight enough, it might look like still water... until it explodes."
Hinari said nothing. But deep down, she remembered something else from the confrontation. When she expelled lightning, it had started to vibrate unnaturally, as if her own energy was struggling to be something else.
The Trial Arena
Later that week, the students were taken to the Trial Arena—a massive underground chamber designed to test and refine a student's Jinki. The walls pulsed with containment runes, and rows of spectral watchers—shadows of former masters—observed in silence.
Instructor Haga stood before them once again.
"Today you will fight projections. Your opponents will be formed from your own fears. They will adapt. They will press. You will either break through... or break entirely."
One by one, students entered the arena alone.
Denki fought a giant thunderbird, its wings crashing with electric fury. He grinned the whole time, loving every second.
Denji faced a version of himself—cold, perfect, uncaring—and struggled against its precision until he finally tore the illusion apart with a brilliant yellow barrier.
Then it was Hinari's turn.
She stepped into the arena, and for a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the air rippled, and before her stood... herself.
But this version was cruel. Confident. Her eyes glowed with gold, her smile sharp.
"Weak little Hinari," the projection sneered. "Always hiding. Always scared. You could burn the world if you wanted—but you'd rather shiver in silence."
Hinari lowered her stance.
"You are not me."
"I am what you refuse to become. I am what you buried."
The projection raised a hand, and lightning exploded from her palm, tearing through the arena. Hinari dodged, barely, the voltage biting at her skin.
"You were never water," it hissed. "You are the storm."
Hinari felt her heart pounding. The pain was real. The energy felt like her own—and it terrified her.
She clenched her fists.
"I never wanted to hurt anyone..."
But deep inside, beneath the fear and the control she'd clung to for so long, she felt it: the hum, the tremble, the raw, coiled current she'd kept locked away.
"But I will not be afraid of what I am."
She opened her hands—and the air ignited with yellow arcs. Lightning surged from her skin, not wild, but guided, controlled. She clapped her hands together, and a spear of thunder launched toward the projection, shattering it into crackling mist.
Outside the arena, the watchers were stunned.
Haga narrowed his eyes.
"So... the lotus was not a flower... but a thunderbolt, sleeping beneath the water."
That night, after lights-out, the four friends sat on the academy roof, watching the city lights flicker.
"So you're compressed lightning," Denki said, nudging Hinari. "I feel betrayed."
She actually smiled, rare and fleeting.
"I didn't know."
"It's cool," Shinji said. "You're even stronger than we thought."
Denji tapped his notebook, thoughtful.
"This changes a lot. Compressed Lightning Jinki users are incredibly rare—almost mythic."
"You're cool too Shinji,the last person born with fire as strong as yours was..."
"Akira," Shinji finished, staring into the sky.
The group went quiet.
"You think you're like him?" Denki asked.
"No," Shinji said. "I'm stronger. Because I'm not afraid to hold back."
Hinari looked at him, surprised.
"You've seen him, haven't you?" she asked softly.
Shinji nodded.
"I spoke to Raizo. He said Akira didn't just abandon his teammates. He discovered something about Jinki—something tied to its history. Visions. Echoes. Memories."
Denji adjusted his glasses.
"You mean... ancestral memory?"
"Something like that," Shinji said. "He saw a war coming. One no one else believed in."
"So what now?" Denki asked.
Shinji stood, firelight flickering from his hands.
"We train. We grow stronger. And we find the truth Akira was willing to risk everything for."