It was the sound of countless heavy-footed men that drove Takao from his dreams. The banging came next and caused him to jump from the bed he had been given. He half believed it to be a nightmare of the previous day, but he knew better.
They told him if the enemy came, to hide under the bed. To make sure they could not find him. But he wanted to fight and protect his friends.
It was a small house, home to a modest family. So the second he stepped out of the room, he caught sight of the painted armor that tore his world apart. It took them less than a heartbeat to catch sight of him.
They shoved Hiromi's father aside and he was vaguely aware of the man shouting for him to run. He was tired of running, tired of hiding. If they wanted him so bad, there he was. But they were in for a fight.
Three, maybe four, men poured into the small room. Swords and spears were aimed at him, just a boy who did no one wrong. Funny how things ended up that way.
The first man lunged at him and suddenly it was as if his body was no heavier than a feather. His head bumped the ceiling, the winds he commanded keeping him just above the soldiers. It would do no good to stay inside, however, and he made a break for the door.
His feet touched against the shoulder of one soldier. The man grabbed for his leg and pulled him back down. Takao landed on his hands, yanked his leg free and flipped back to his feet with a severe lack of grace.
He was outnumbered and in too small a space. Things were desperate. He was not about to surrender, not to these people. Not after all they had done.
The soldiers did not lunge at him. Instead, they waited and watched. There was nothing else he could do, save for this last thing.
He urged the wind faster and pulled it in around himself, his eyes shut tight. Over the noise of the small tornado he had created, he could hear the clink of armor and people shouting. He took a deep breath and pressed outward with the wind's force. It drained him and made his body feel heavy, but with any luck, it would get them to leave him alone.
His legs fell out from under him and he crumpled up on the floor. A moment later, his head fell. The last thing he heard was heavy footsteps on a wood floor.
The next time he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but the inside of a sack. He twisted and tugged his arms to try and free them from the chains that bound him, but to no avail. He tossed his head until the sack finally came off. It was a minor victory, but a victory all the same.
Takao found himself in the back of a cart, of all placed to be. He recognized nothing around him except the men in armor. It was not the armor he familiarized with, but armor he still, regrettably, recognized.
There were others in the cart with him, each with a sack over their heads. He groaned and threw his head back to stare at the sky. He could escape, but how far would he get? His wrists and ankles were bound by chains, not ropes, and that made all the difference.
The sky was clear today, too. If he just shot into the air, would they ever be able to get him back down? He could soar for days and days and get so far away from this nightmare.
But then what about his friends and family?
His hands clenched into fists and he tugged at the chains again, as if his new found anger would give him the strength to rip them apart. It was an absent hope and he knew better. In the end, it just left more pain in his wrists.
Then he tried something else.
The upward blast shook the cart, but managed to blow the sacks away. One even landed on the head of a soldier, which made Takao laugh. The other prisoners all took in their surroundings, some of them resigned and others horrified.
It made him a little sad, but incredibly relieved, to see he knew none of them.
After that, he used the wind to turn and twist the cart. The cart driver struggled to keep everything together and the prisoners all screamed. Then, with one heavy gust, it fell over. People fell on top of each other in tangled messes and the soldiers that guarded them were in a frenzied disarray.
Now was his chance.
Or so he thought. One soldier, one he recognized from Hiromi's house, grabbed his hair and pulled him free from the mess. If he weren't in so much armor, he would have head butted him.
"You've just got to cause more trouble than you're worth." The man sneered. "The prince is going to hate his grandfather for you."
Before Takao could even begin to ask what he meant, he was hit over the head by a heavy hand.
