Kinetic

"Mr. Otomo, my girlfriend has developed kinetic powers."

"Really?" Mr. Otomo replied disinterestedly. "So?"

"Do you have powers?"

Katshiro looked up from his own shoes. Otomo was balancing a ball in the air, just above his palms.

"I need your advice. How long have you been able to do this?"

Otomo rested the ball on his fingertips.

"All my life."

"And have you ever had to...stop someone else? That misused it?"

"Hah! For juggling balls? For levitating little girls skirts? It’s just mischief, is all. Exactly what are you so worried about?"

"I’m worried about a one hundred and seventy pound judge being thrown through the air without being touched."

The old man went silent except for a whispered swear under his breath.

"Uh, n-no one has ever had that much power. I didn’t think it was possible. And your girlfriend, boy- is she-?"

"She’s going mad," came the reply.

Otomo was of no more help. He was no more knowledgeable about his gift than Kira or even Katshiro himself. But the old man did reveal one piece of information that may be useful.

All of the kinetics he knew of came by their power naturally, drawing from something within themselves. The process was one of choice and demanded that one exercise its use.

Kira’s was triggered. He remembered Kira telling him about an accident at work. There was an electrical explosion while she was working on a computer that shorted out the entire lab. He wanted to go there, to see the room she was in and investigate. But there were so many problems. They would probably not let him in. And what was he looking for? Hell, maybe they didn’t even know. Maybe his Kira was part of some experiment herself.

His thoughts were confused and indecisive. Katshiro was becoming desperate. As he approached his apartment door, he thought to himself that it may be time for a more drastic approach.

"Get her drunk," he thought. "And asleep."

The key turned ever so quietly. Maybe she was asleep now. The door swung open like it was in a vacuum. Katshiro’s heart raced and he tried to control his rapid breathing. The adrenaline rushed up in him. The apartment was dark. Maybe she was asleep already.

He tip-toed along the hall, stopping a few feet before the open doorway to their bedroom.

He listened. Quiet. Not a sound. Maybe she was asleep. The gun was hidden in the living room closet. One mistake and he knew it was over. Kira would kill him. She had become drunk with the power. So much did she rely upon it now that she barely moved her own body. And when she did, it looked like a spastic Frankenstein- the joints seemed no longer to function fully or correctly.

She was no longer the loving Kira of two weeks ago. She was the homicidal general thrusting his troops forward into the fire. Where once she talked, now she ordered.

And he loved her still.

Maybe she’s asleep.

He started again, slowly and quietly, moving across the doorway.

"Shiro."

The icy, sharp tone stuck in him like a knife. Maybe she found the gun already. Maybe this was the end.