Chapter Text
There were rebels after the war had been resolved. Of course there were; people who still wanted Hoshido and Nohr to be at odds with each other, people who still thought that ‘we’ were better than ‘them’. Some even rejected Valla, afraid of the foreign land that had been unknown but right next to them this whole time. And some hated to see the war go, just wanting to profit off the chaos, the sale of weapons and medicinal goods, the deaths of their countrymen.
Takumi did not know what kind of rebels the ones tailing him were. In the end, he supposed, it did not matter. He should have been more careful.
What did matter was how on earth these clumsy fools were still following him after a good half hour. He thought he’d given them the slip at least twice, darting across rivers as to not leave footprints and traipsing through trees in thick patches of forest, but no. They were still following him, he was outnumbered, they were armed, and he was starting to get worried. He was a warrior, a hero, that had travelled all over the world for months while fighting the war. He should have easily been able to outrun them.
Guess luck just isn’t on my side today, he thought, as an arrow whizzed by his head. Shit. They had not made any offensive moves before this. It seemed like they intended to turn a chase into a hunt.
Two can play at that game, he thought, reaching for the Fujin Yumi at his back. Even if he is to go down, he will make sure it is not without a fight.
He burst out of the latest thicket of trees he was passing through and onto a flat, grassy plane. Perfect for shooting, he noted, and spied a rock formation coming up on his right. The height would give him an advantage, not to mention a great place to shoot from. He would turn his pursuers into pincushions in the blink of an eye, he was sure of it. With a smirk he broke into a sprint, hoping to put a little more distance between them before he began his assault.
He started to hear rustling in the underbrush behind him as he scrambled his way to the top of the formation. Good then, they were only just breaking out of the forest. They’d be caught off guard by his arrows, just as he’d planned. He grabbed an arrow and, swift as the wind, notched it as he spun around. Ready and set to aim and fire and—
There were too many of them. Why were there so many of them?
What Takumi saw bursting out of the forest was not what he heard chasing him before. He was expecting two, maybe three archers, a swordsman or two, and maybe even a mage, but no, not this.
Axe wielders led the charge, shouting and laughing as they closed in on him. Behind them were the archers—four of them, at that. Then came the swordsmen and the mages, both in numbers too great for him to handle. Overhead, the sharp caw of a kinshi knight added to the cacophony of the oncoming assault. There were both Nohrians and Hoshidans in this group, then.
He didn't stick around to check.
On the surface he felt terrible for turning tail and running. Cowardly. Scared little Takumi, running away like always. He ran away from responsibilities, ran away from his fears, his problems. He even ran away from the castle once when—No, he had to stop thinking like that, he had to. If he didn’t focus on getting the hell out of there he’d never get back to his family, his friends. He’d never get back to Leo. Deep down, he knew that was what’s important.
And that was enough, he thought, to spur him on as he ran like a dog with its tail between his legs from the onslaught that is those damned rebels. Or it should be, as the chase carried him over what seemed to be miles and miles of terrain. The Fujin Yumi made his feet swift, helped him traverse even water with ease, but exhaustion was a whole different beast. The jeers and howls from the group closing in on him didn't help, either. Those axemen at the front were surely laughing at his retreat, now.
He heard voices rise in cheers when he tripped over a root and nearly lost his footing. Were they on the hunt for his head? Would they get some bounty for taking him down, or would he just be a trophy?
When a well thrown dagger sinks into his shoulder, he supposed that he wouldn't live long enough to find out.
He screamed as the pain and exhaustion overtook him. His legs gave out. Funny, he felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes before he felt the blood start to soak his shoulder. A swift kick was delivered to his stomach when the group caught up with him. He coughed, gasping for air that had escaped him while he felt the Fujin Yumi being yanked from his grip. The last thing he saw before blacking out was one of the bandits trying to break the bow over their knee.
They’re still fools, he thought, if they think a bow so tenacious can be brought down by such a weak action.