Takeda's Journey

The rain had turned into a relentless downpour, drowning the plains in a curtain of gray. Takeda ran, his breath ragged, his legs burning with every step. The lightning in his veins had faded, leaving him hollow, trembling. The dragon's roar still echoed in his mind, a sound so vast it seemed to shake the very fabric of the world.

He didn't know how far he'd gone. The landscape blurred—trees, rocks, mud—all blending together. Finally, he spotted a cave, a dark crack in the rocky hillside. Without thinking, he stumbled inside, his heart pounding.

The cave was small, damp, but sheltered from the rain. Takeda collapsed against the wall, gasping for air. His hands still shook. He pulled a strip of dried meat from his pack, chewing mechanically. It was tasteless, but he needed the energy.

"What do I do now?" he muttered, his voice barely echoing in the cave.

He talked to himself, as he always had. Since his parents' deaths, there had been no one to confide in. His mother, kind and protective, taken by illness. His father, an ordinary soldier, fallen in battle long before Takeda could understand what that meant. He was only thirteen, but he already carried the weight of a lifetime of loneliness.

"I could run away," he whispered, staring at the cave entrance. "Desert. No one would look for me. No one would notice."

The idea was tempting. The war wasn't his. He had nothing to prove, nothing to defend. But something in him resisted. A stubborn voice that refused to let go.

"What if I left?" he continued, as if the darkness could answer. "Where would I go? Who would I be?"

He closed his eyes, trying to push away the images of the battle. The dragon. The flames. The screams. But another image surfaced: his mother, smiling, brushing his hair. "Be strong, Takeda," she had said once, when he cried after a fall. "Life is hard, but you're stronger than it."

Was that true? Was he strong? Or just fast? Just lucky?

Suddenly, a noise made him freeze. Footsteps. Voices.

"There's a cave here!" a rough voice called out.

Takeda's heart raced. Three figures appeared at the cave entrance, drenched by the rain, their weapons glinting faintly in the dim light. Raiders from the Land of Wind.

The first, a burly man with an axe at his belt, pointed at Takeda. "Look at this! A little rat hiding away."

The second, leaner, carried a short sword and a sneer. "Looks lost. Maybe we should help him find his way… to hell."

The third, a silent giant, hefted a spiked mace. His cold, empty eyes locked onto Takeda as if he were already a corpse.

Takeda rose slowly, his short blade gripped tightly. The lightning didn't respond. He was alone.

"So, kid," the axe-wielder sneered, "you gonna fight? Or should we just put you down like a dog?"

Takeda didn't answer. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart. He had no choice. He had to survive.

The three men stepped forward, their weapons ready.

The cave, once a refuge, had become a trap.

And Takeda, the fugitive, had nowhere left to run.

---

The cave seemed to shrink, its walls closing in as the three raiders advanced. Takeda's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a war drum. His short blade felt heavy in his hand, but he tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening. The air was thick with tension, the only sounds the steady patter of rain outside and the ragged breaths of the men closing in.

The burly man with the axe stepped forward first, his grin widening. "Come on, kid. Let's make this quick."

Takeda didn't wait. He moved.

The lightning in his veins sparked to life, and the world slowed. He darted forward, his blade slicing through the air in a flash. The axe-wielder barely had time to react before Takeda was behind him, his blade cutting a clean line across the back of the man's knee. The raider screamed, a spray of blood erupting from the wound as he collapsed to the ground, his leg unable to support him.

"What the—?!" exclaimed the swordsman, his confidence wavering for the first time.

Takeda didn't give him time to think. He pivoted, his blade arcing upward, and the swordsman's weapon clattered to the ground, his hand still gripping it. The man screamed, clutching the stump of his wrist, but Takeda didn't hesitate. He drove his blade into the man's chest, the sound of metal piercing flesh sickeningly final. Blood sprayed, splattering Takeda's face, warm and sticky.

Two down.

The giant with the mace stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He swung the weapon in a wide arc, forcing Takeda to leap back. The mace smashed into the cave wall, sending shards of rock flying. Takeda's breath came in short gasps now, his body straining under the weight of his exhaustion. The lightning in his veins flickered, unstable.

"You're quick, kid," the giant growled, his voice low and monotone. "But not strong enough."

The giant swung again, and this time, Takeda wasn't fast enough. The mace grazed his side, sending him sprawling to the ground. His blade slipped from his hand, skittering across the cave floor. Panic surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, but the giant was already on him, his massive hand closing around Takeda's throat.

Takeda choked, his vision blurring as he was lifted off the ground. He clawed at the man's hand, but it was like trying to bend steel. The giant lifted him higher, his cold, empty eyes locking onto Takeda with icy indifference.

"You're quick, kid," the giant repeated, his voice a low rumble. "But not strong enough."

Takeda felt his lungs burn, oxygen slipping away. His thoughts grew hazy, but one idea persisted: *I can't die here.*

He closed his eyes, focusing on the lightning within him. It was weak, scattered, but it was there. He felt it crackle, like a spark trying to ignite. He gathered all his energy, every ounce of willpower, and channeled it into his hand.

The cave lit up with blinding light.

The giant released him, startled, and Takeda fell to the ground, gasping. His right hand was enveloped in crackling lightning, a storm of energy that hissed and sparked like a miniature tempest. He didn't know what he was doing, or how he'd managed to create this, but there was no time to think.

The giant charged at him, his mace raised to crush Takeda once and for all.

Takeda lunged, his hand thrust forward.

The impact was brutal.

The lightning-clad hand pierced the giant's chest like a knife through butter. The man froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. A gurgling sound escaped his lips, and he staggered before collapsing, his massive body hitting the ground with a dull thud. Blood sprayed, splattering the cave walls as the giant fell, his lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Takeda stumbled back, trembling, his arm still crackling with residual electricity. The light in his hand faded, leaving the cave in sudden darkness. He looked at the giant, then at his hands, as if he no longer recognized his own body.

He had done it. He had *created* that.

But at what cost?

Exhaustion washed over him, and he collapsed to his knees, sweat dripping from his brow. His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding as if it might burst. He had never done anything like this before. Never.

The cave was silent now, save for the sound of rain outside. The three raiders lay motionless, their bodies broken. Takeda stared at them, a mix of relief and disgust twisting his stomach.

He had survived. But for how long?

And more importantly… what had he become?

---

**The cave had become a tomb.**

And Takeda, the fugitive, now carried the weight of what he had done.

He rose slowly, his legs trembling. The blood on his face and hands reminded him of every strike, every scream, every life he had taken. He felt different, as if something inside him had changed forever.

He looked at his hand, still faintly crackling with electricity. *Was that me?* he wondered, incredulous. *Am I capable of that?*

In the darkness of the cave, he saw himself for a moment—a young warrior, cold, efficient, deadly. But he wasn't a hero. He was Takeda. A thirteen-year-old boy, lost in a war far beyond his understanding.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart. He couldn't stay here. He had to move.

But before he left, he cast one last glance at the bodies on the ground. *I didn't want this,* he thought. *But I had no choice.*

He stepped out of the cave, the cool rain washing the blood from his face. The world outside was still as hostile as ever, but he felt a little stronger. A little more dangerous.

And he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.