Chapter Text
The wind hollered against his ears, catching his strained breaths as he cut through the forest. His feet barely touched the ground as he fled. Each step brought pain to his knees, sending jolts up his entire body and feeding his Vision. It burned starkly green, clattering behind his back as it became tainted by raindrops.
The sky opened, showering the forest and hazing his view as he pushed through the downpour. They were still after him. Each gust of wind brought him their demanding voices and the clattering of their armor. There were ten of them, maybe. That was double the number of soldiers that chased him out of Inazuma city. He was lucky that they didn’t see his face; so perhaps he could get out of this mess without using his blade.
Kazuha skid on the muddy path, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a wall of a cliff. He peered up into the crying sky, his red eyes scouring the height of his new obstacle. With the moon covered, he couldn’t see more than an endless climb. He didn’t have enough time. His brain went it overdrive as he heaved, catching his breath after what felt like hours of playing chase with the Tenryou commission. He was rapid to turn on his heels and face the soldiers that ran up to him. Their spears pointed at his chest; their eyes widened as they saw his face. Some of them recognized him. Some of them he spent his youth training with.
“Kaedehara?”
Kazuha’s fingers slipped over his blade, his stance widening as he readied himself. His red eyes failed to reflect any fear. Glaring from under his lashes, he found the face of the man who called his name. It was his friend from school. Tomo’s friend. The three of them drank sake together mere weeks ago - when that same man expressed admiration for Kazuha’s anemo Vision and his sword art.
Horror grew in his eyes once he met Kazuha’s cold gaze. The wind blew past the soldiers that cornered him, carrying echoes of distant thunder and bringing the smell of the ocean. His breath now steady, Kazuha let an exhale drop from his lips. His fingers tightly wrapping around the hilt of his sword.
“How unfortunate,” he mused. His Vision burned against his shoulder; its hotness reminded him of a melting furnace. “To think I almost escaped your eyes without drawing my blade.”
“You’re surrounded! Drop your weapon and hand over your vision!” an order erupted from one of the soldiers’ mouths.
Kazuha’s eyes gleamed even in the darkness of a rainy night. Their scarlet glow never leaving the familiar face in the crowd. Burying the arising guilt that bloomed in his chest, his gaze quickly scoured the gathering soldiers. His instinct was right. Ten men. Ten men that now knew his identity.
A scoff left his lips. Wind gathered around his feet, carrying leaves and pinecones that rolled against the dirt. His clothes flapped, moved by the strong current that swirled around him. Even rain got caught up in the ring of anemo energy. Following the current, it swirled around his feet. His knees bent – he stood atop of a spring of anemo, ready to leap and deal the deadly blow to the men that circled him.
“Kaedehara” his acquaintance tried. His voice was full of concern - borderline paranoid. He used to look so starstruck when they talked over sake. That glint was lost from his eyes, replaced by horror and betrayal. All that Kazuha saw in them, though, was hesitancy to initiate aggression.
It was everything he needed. A weak link among his enemies.
“You won’t make it out if you try to fight,” his friend tried. “Please, drop your weapon.”
“I apologize, my friend,” Kazuha responded coldly. “You know I cannot do that.”
He barely kept steady on his feet as his anemo vision gathered more and more force around him. All the energy that built up around him was threatening to burst. “This is where we say our goodbyes.”
He didn’t leave him with a chance to understand his words, nor did he give his fellow soldiers an opportunity to prepare for a blow. One second, he was glaring into the man’s horrified eyes, the other, his feet departed from the mud, and his blade unsheathed. Catching the faint moonlight’s glow, the metal hissed through the air, painting itself red and leaving Kazuha surrounded by corpses.
The rest rushed at him, but by the time they reached him, his blade already found its way to their vitals. With eyes closed, he cut through the last of them, his vision finally cooling after an hour long chase.
His expression was that of peace as he stood surrounded by corpses. The mud overfilled with rainwater and blood. He drew his fingers against his blade, feeling the engraved words on the cold metal. Virtue and honor. Keeping his eyes closed, he slid his katana into its sheet.
Listening to rain drop around him, he inhaled the setting smell of death. Each pitter part of a raindrop against the growing puddles on mud, and each breeze of quiet wind, brought calmness to his heart. The forest grew silent.