Chapter Text
Kaedehara Kazuha dipped the very edge of his sandal into the water, sending gentle ripples across the surface of the water. He sighed contentedly--it was a beautiful, peaceful afternoon. The wind was blowing from the east, casting sakura petals from the Grand Narukami Shrine over the bay before him, and the autumn sun had warmed the rock on which he sat. As he gazed out over the water, Kazuha reflected on the falling blossoms. So elegant, so delicate--and yet so transient, their existence a brief splash of colour, before being plucked by the wind and cast out over the land. It was a fascinating contrast to the ideals of eternity that were the basis of the Raiden Shogun’s decisions. Kazuha leaned forward, gently lifted a sakura blossom out of the water, and composed a few verses.
The sakura blooms,
A brief blossom of purple.
Yet tomorrow, gone.
Drifting to the ground,
It fades and decomposes--
Never eternal.
He smiled to himself, gently crumpled the blossom in his hand, and let the petals fall to the sand beside him. Kamisato Tomo was right--eternity could not be the supreme ideal. The thought was blasphemous, but he could not deny its truth. He knew the wind all too well--constantly changing, shifting and turning, bringing different sounds and scents with every passing day. Eternity was a fine ideal--but the world was too full of temporary beauty. Should the sakura not bloom? Should the maple tree not turn red, and cover the landscape with fallen autumn leaves?
The Raiden Shogun’s new Vision Hunt Decree was in service of eternity; Kazuha understood that. He understood her logic--Visions gave power to ordinary people, and ordinary people led brief, transient lives. Surely, giving those with such short lifetimes more power could only accelerate the changes that challenged eternity. But Tomo was also right--the Raiden Shogun seemed perhaps not to understand all that which made humans special--it was the temporary flashes of brilliance, drama, love, and angst which brought so much colour to the nation of Inazuma. Perhaps when one is a god, such things are so fleeting as to be invisible--like an unseen gust of wind, gone as quickly as it arrives.
Like his Tomo--so full of fire and lightning, so eager to fight for his honor and glory. Kazuha admired his ambition--he was truly the greatest samurai he had ever met. And yet, amidst his enduring ambition to improve his skill and win more honor for his name, there were flashes of tenderness--of soft affection, and warm comfort. Kazuha wished they could simply hide from the Vision Hunt Decree--a small camp on the mountain perhaps, near a stream full of fish to eat, and wild berries and fruits to pick. They could live their days, content with each other to simply enjoy the contrasts the world offered to eternity--the wind, the sakura blossoms, the clouds overhead, the very water in the stream.
Kazuha sighed. But that was his dream, not Tomo’s. Kazuha loved to wander, to sit and appreciate the natural world. It was so easy to forget the petty squabbles of society out here, under the sun and the clouds. Kamisato Tomo, however, was full of energy. He blazed and flared with his ideals and ambitions, and he would never be satisfied to simply shelter from an oppressive decree.
In the water before him, a single medaka swam curiously to the surface, and pecked at a floating petal. Kazuha leaned ever so slightly forward, and the fish darted away.
--
Kazuha felt the newcomer on the wind--a shift in the air, carrying a heavy scent of sweat, masked ever so slightly by old cologne, and the sharp tang of dust. Kazuha listened, and heard the suggestion of rapid, pounding feet, a person making no effort to conceal their steps--or their heavy breathing. Kazuha felt his hair stand ever so slightly on end, a tingling warning running across his scalp.
Kazuha rose swiftly to his feet and turned in the direction of the wind, his hand flying to his sword’s hilt, just in time to see a young man stumble down the sandy escarpment at the edge of the beach.
“Kazuha-sama!” the man gasped. Kazuha recognized him now as Sato Jun, an eager fellow from Hanamizaka who worked as a dishwasher in the Komore Teahouse.
“What is it, Jun-kun?” Kazuha asked.
“It’s--it’s Tomo!” Jun gasped, doubled over. “He--the Vision Hunt--challenge--duel--”
“A duel? Did Tomo…” Kazuha asked, a knot forming in his stomach.
Jun nodded frantically. “The shogun! Tenshukaku!” he blurted, gesturing desperately back the way he came.
Kazuha did not wait for Jun to finish the word. He shot across the beach, sand flying beneath his sandals, the tall escarpment vanishing beneath him as he vaulted over it in a gust of wind.
His heart pounded with fear as he ran faster and faster. Tomo was the best samurai he knew, but….even he could not challenge the Raiden Shogun. And Tomo knew it. But Tomo had always been prone to rash decisions. If Tomo had decided to resist the Vision Hunt Decree by challenging the Shogun to a duel….
Kazuha ran faster.
His kimono whipped around him, pebbles biting through his sandals and into his feet as he tore through the underbrush. He willed himself faster, as fast as a fleeting scent on the wind.
The falling sakura petals seemed to hang stationary in the air as Kazuha ran past, dodging and weaving through, not bothering to brush them out of his face when he collided with them. The landscape before him seemed to stretch interminably, even as he covered vast tracts with immense speed.
His anemo vision thrummed at his hip, a gale now propelling him forward, filling his clothes and his lungs.
Kazuha breathed.
In.
Out.
His feet hammered the soil, pitpatpitpatpitpat .
His heart slammed in his chest.
Badump. Badump.
In.
Out.
Kaedehara Kazuha was one with the wind, his lungs, heart, and feet the percussion to the trilling flute, each beating a different rhythm, but all in time--an orchestra racing to an inevitable finale, perfectly in tune and on beat.
Kamisato Tomo was Kazuha’s closest friend. He was his companion, his confidant. The evenings they spent in the Komore Teahouse, reading to each other, discussing the way of the samurai, and their role in Inazuma’s changing society--if he was not fast enough, those evenings would be no more. He would lose Tomo.
He mustn’t lose.
Faster.
Kazuha ran, one step and then another, the grass of the fields near Konda Village bursting into the packed road through the Byakko Plain. His feet crunched on the gravel, and his fingers tingled and pulsed with anemo energy.
Badump.
In. Out.
He tore down the road, the space between his legs a roiling mass of air and dust, his feet barely touching the ground now. His teeth chattered gently with each breath--he was struggling now. But Kazuha knew nothing now but the wind--the wind, and the road before him.
He ran.
He ran as he had never run before, as if his life depended on it. For it did--without Tomo beside him, what was this life? He understood now the Raiden Shogun’s obsession with eternity--he would trade the impermanence of the ever-changing seasons in a heartbeat for more time with Tomo.
Patpatpatpatpatpat.
Badump-badump.
In. Out.
His heart was now beating in his ears, a deafening drum urging his chattering teeth ever faster. The wind tore at his eyes, and tears streamed away, as his feet landed on the cobblestones of Inazuma City.
He was so close.
The warm scents of food stalls and joyous laughs of citizens in the marketplace washed over him as he shot through the marketplace, a jarring dissonance with the fear he felt. The world was ending, and they ate and laughed.
The wind now carried something more--a tense anticipation, the calm before the storm. The charged static before a lightning strike. Kazuha could sense the faint sound of metal on metal, a sandal scuffing against stone.
He turned a corner, bounding off a retaining wall as he launched himself up the path toward Tenryou. The Statue of the Omnipresent God loomed in the distance, its stone wings reaching up to the sky. Behind it--Tenshukaku, the fortress of the Raiden Shogun.
Storm clouds were beginning to gather, and Kazuha could now hear the unmistakable sounds of a fight carried on the wind.
His chest heaved with each breath as he fought for ever more air, just a little more was all he needed, just a little faster.
Leaflets and banners fluttered in his wake as he raced through the Tenryou market, surprised shouts and angry exhortations falling away behind him. The Komore Teahouse was just steps away, down a side street--so close, and yet his evenings there with Tomo felt so impossibly far away. The world they had lived in, the world in which they could spend an evening in the Teahouse without a care in the world--that world was gone.
Kazuha ran onward. Onward, up the bridge. Onward, past the Statue of the Omnipresent God, its wings glittering with the stones of inlaid stolen Visions. Onward, up the stone stairs, and through the gates of Tenshukaku, the alarmed cries of the guards as inconsequential as a butterfly in the face of a hurricane.
Tenshukaku--the walled fortress, a palace rising high above Inazuma City, where the Raiden Shogun could watch over her nation, a nation that had so clearly failed her standards of eternity--and was now subjected to the Vision Hunt Decree. All the Shogun’s gifts to her people, torn away in her righteous judgment. Kazuha stood at the foot of innumerable stairs, winding and climbing up through the fortress toward the seat of the throne--the Shogun’s inner sanctum. That was where the duel would be--on the landing before her abode.
The sound of fighting was unmistakable now--the clang of sword against sword, feet scuffling against stone and wood. A shout--Tomo! And a woman’s grunt--Kujou Sara, the Raiden Shogun’s most loyal lieutenant. She must be fighting in the place of the Shogun, Kazuha thought. That was something, at least--Kujou Sara was an extremely skilled fighter, but she was not an Archon. And Tomo was no mere samurai. If Tomo had been fighting the Shogun, he would stand no chance--not against the Musou no Hitotachi.
The Musou no Hitotachi--Kazuha sorely wished he had not told Tomo about it, that night so long ago in the Teahouse. A sword art unknown to any but the Shogun, and impossible to withstand. Of course Tomo had seen a challenge.
“There must be one who can withstand it,” Tomo had said. Perhaps this was what had compelled him to issue the challenge--perhaps his judgment had been clouded by his ambition, his desire to test his mettle against the metal of the Raiden Shogun’s blade.
As Kazuha hurled himself up the stairs, dodging and weaving around surprised royal guards, he wished that Tomo had been content to simply hide away with him. And yet, here he was, Kaedehara Kazuha, the samurai content not to fight, now coming face to face with the Shogun herself.
Kazuha understood why Tomo had done it. Kazuha had not hesitated to come here. And what was he going to do? Challenge the Raiden Shogun himself, in exchange for Tomo's life? Violate the terms of the duel and help Tomo win? Or simply grovel, beg, and plead for mercy on his behalf? Kazuha had no idea what he was going to do. But there had been no question--he was here, he was coming, he would not sit idly by and allow Tomo to suffer the Musou no Hitotachi. Tomo had made the same decision--but while Kazuha was here for Tomo, Tomo was doing this for all Vision-bearers.
Kazuha's legs strained as he climbed the stairs, miles and miles of panicked flight now catching up with pounding, aching pain. His chest heaved and he gasped for breath as he stepped onto the first step of the final flight of stairs, his lungs full of dust and fire.
Clang.
He took a step.
Clang-clang.
Another step.
A shout--Sara--and a grunt--Tomo.
Two more steps.
A horrific metallic sound shattered the air, the sound of shrieking, suffering steel surrendering--and snapping.
And then a heavy, thick silence.
Kazuha's heart seized.
He summoned the last of his will, one last gasp of air, and with a burst of anemo energy launched himself to the top of the stairs, to the final gate.
Kaedehara Kazuha stood at the entrance to the plaza, shaking. Across the plaza was the Raiden Shogun's inner sanctum, and at the foot of its stairs--the Raiden Shogun herself.
She stood tall, proud--a towering figure of nobility in purple robes, her long, thick braid cascading past her shoulders. Even from this distance, Kazuha could see her eyes blazing purple with electro energy, full of grim determination and purpose. At her side, she held in her hand a long, shimmering purple sword. Lightning crackled along the blade, the entire weapon a pure manifestation of Her Eternal Majesty's will.
Next to her--Kujou Sara, panting, bruised, and bloodied--but not beaten. She held herself tall, proud. And in her eyes--anger, and disdain.
Disdain for the man who stood shakily before them.
Tomo.
His shattered sword lay on the ground several paces away, its cloth-wrapped handle soaked in blood and sweat.
He had lost the duel. Yet he stood before them, shaking but defiant, his electro vision blazing as brightly as it had the day the electro archon had seen fit to bestow it upon him.
Kazuha took in all of this in an instant.
And in that instant, the Raiden Shogun moved.
Her blade swung through the air, shearing the world apart with a snap of lightning. It swung down, down and through and past, cutting and splitting and cleaving, the world breaking and shattering.
Down upon Tomo, past and through, and he fell. He fell down, he sank, collapsed onto the wooden planks of the Shogun's plaza in Tenshukaku, dead.
Agony and anguish tore through Kazuha, a voiceless scream ripping his lungs apart, as the Musou no Hitotachi had cleaved his world in twain. Anger and grief welled in his crumbling heart, as he gazed upon his fallen friend.
The electro Vision lay next to Tomo, severed from its former owner--but still burning with electro energy.
With Tomo's ambition.
An impulse flared in Kazuha, his veins coursing with determination. He would not let her have the last of Tomo. This he vowed--Tomo had challenged the Vision Hunt Decree, and here it would fail.
He felt his anemo Vision pulse with his intent, and he surged forward. In an instant as brief as that in which the Shogun had felled his friend, Kazuha was at Tomo's side, and his fingers closed around the Vision. He looked up, and saw the Raiden Shogun staring down at him, her eyes flaring with rage.
And in another instant, he was gone, his feet flying across the precipice of the plaza, launching himself into the open air above the stairs. The electro Vision blazed in his closed fist, and his arm seared with pain as a flash of electro lightning spiderwebbed across his skin. Kazuha hit the ground at the foot of the Tenshukaku stairs and paused for a moment. He opened his hand, still throbbing with pain, and peered down, his vision blurry with tears. Tomo’s Vision lay in his palm. It still held a dull electro glow, but as he watched, the glow faded away into nothingness, and the Vision grew cold.
Kazuha’s heart folded in on itself, and he gasped, the air suddenly gone from his lungs. The last of Tomo, now gone. But as he grasped for the chasm of his unanchored heart, his arm however throbbed once more--a spidery network of burn scars had formed where the Vision had burned him.. The last of Tomo - not completely gone after all.
Kazuha snapped back to attention as soldiers began to shout, above and behind him. He took off once more, a leaf riding a torrent of wind, his sandals beating against the cobblestones of Inazuma City, and then the gravel path of the Byakko Plain, and Konda Village, and then the streets of Ritou, and the wooden planks of the Ritou docks.
He didn’t know where he was going. But he knew that the Tenryou Commission would not catch him; the Raiden Shogun would not have his Vision, just as she would not have Tomo’s. And he knew that his life now had a singular purpose: to find the person who could reawaken Tomo’s Vision, and even if Tomo himself was gone, bring back his vitality, his ambition to brave the lightning.