Note: the original format had a lot of spaces. Since fanfiction doesn't save them, (period)s were used to fill in the space.
Content Warning note: blood, vague descriptions. There is a death on screen in the first section. If you are uncomfortable with such, please skip to the ** to avoid the scene. Actually, please apply this warning to the whole of this story. While there are many heartwarming scenes, this story is not a kind story.
Kazuha was taught many things.
Things his mother would whisper where only his ears could hear.
Things his mother drilled into his bones with a set of words for every action.
"Don't make a sound— For your safety."
"Stay close to me, by my side— For your safety."
"If you cry, swallow it. Don't ever let yourself be heard— for your safety."
"For your own safety— Don't come out, please— I'll come back for you, I promise."
He broke that last one.
Even when his mother threw him out of sight when a darkness chased them.
A darkness he and his mother constantly ran from.
He didn't know when it started.
When his mother began to run constantly.
When his mother told him stories about family he'd never meet.
All because of the darkness that hunted every single one of them down.
Kazuha didn't understand.
Wasn't made to understand.
So, there were rules in his life he learned harshly.
To travel incited danger.
To stay in one place too long invited danger.
Kazuha didn't stay in the washed up fishing boat.
Couldn't, actually.
The wood was so weathered and cracked that it gave under his meager weight.
Cold seawater flooded the boat and chased him out.
Swimming wasn't his strong suit.
Not yet, anyway.
When he scrambled out of his hiding place, he froze.
Kazuha didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
Not when his mother stood before a growing darkness.
Who brandished their family's heirloom—
A tachi that had seen hundreds of battles.
Even when the darkness took the form of a hideous monster.
And bellowed a mighty roar.
Kazuha didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
His mother didn't falter.
She fell into a stance he only started to learn.
He watched her back as white flames had unfurled into a pure set of wings.
Kazuha had seen her feathers exactly once.
Seen her feathers flutter in the wind that carried her.
Only to show him a glimpse of what he would grow to be one day.
He doubted her when she told him by a thunderous waterfall.
After all, Kazuha was still so small compared to her.
Far too young to her seemingly endless years.
Kazuha could only watch his mother in awe.
The monstrous beast had easily towered over her.
Claws sharp enough to tear through the sands and change the very form of the land.
Yet, his mother had danced in the air with her wings.
And her blade flashed with a precision Kazuha dreamed of having.
His mother fought quietly while her enemy screamed at her.
She was winning—
Despite the nicks and cuts that slipped her defenses.
She truly was—
Until she spun in the air and looked at him in the eye.
Her own maple red wide with a horror that scared him, "Kazuha!"
It was the loudest he'd ever heard her.
A scream that was so raw—
And it threw him into action.
Kazuha was taught many things.
And to be quick on his feet was one of them.
He ducked on instinct, turning on his heels to leap out of the way.
His kimono was snagged at the edges and tore his obi apart.
A strange form of a wolf dung a clawed paw into the ground.
And ate the sand he stood upon moments ago.
Kazuha scrambled to stand up—
To run away from the wolf that yanked its muzzle from the sand.
But he didn't have to.
His mother was there, crushing the monster with her weight.
The tachi was drenched in a white flame as she drove it through its head.
It screamed, withered, and shattered away in moments.
There was a moment of peace.
Where his mother looked at him with relief in those maple red eyes.
A moment where she smiled so gently, so kindly.
And spoke so quietly to him, "Run."
In the time it took Kazuha to blink, his mother was gone.
He forgot about the monstrous beast that came first.
Now its jaw had clamped over his mother's place.
Her pure white wings stuck out and crunched under the pressure.
Until those wings were bitten off entirely, shattering away.
The beast raised its mighty head with his mother inside.
A gush of sand and blood dripped from its jaw.
It shifted to chew, and pieces of his mother's tachi scattered about.
The beach was painted in a splattered crimson as the beast swayed back and forth.
Kazuha didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
He was far too still.
Too scared to breathe.
Because his mother was in there—
His mother was in there—
And the beast lifted its head and spat her out.
She brokenly laid there, unmoving.
Kazuha had seen her die once, twice— many times.
And she would always, always come back.
Kazuha didn't think.
His hands and feet moved on its own accord.
He grabbed what was left of his mother's tachi— from the pommel to the blade's ridge.
And ran to her.
Because she had to come back—
She promised him.
He almost reached her.
But the monstrous beast was faster than it looked.
It swiped its clawed hand and knocked him away.
Kazuha tumbled in the soaked sands, further away from his mother.
But he didn't give up.
Even when the beast cast its shadow over him.
A clear threat of his own life to end.
Kazuha stood up and held his mother's tachi in a tight grip, its broken tip pointed at the monster.
Maple red eyes narrowed, daring it to try something, anything.
And it did.
It reared its head and bellowed a roar that rattled his bones.
Its jaws were ready to clamp around him—
Until it stopped with a strangled cry.
Kazuha didn't even flinch when it was suddenly yanked back with a harsh pull.
His mother was there, throwing the beast off its legs into the seawater with nothing but her strength.
She stood before him, her long hair flowed like a curtain behind her, "Stay away from my son."
Kazuha almost ran to her with the amount of relief that flooded his veins.
But he held himself back— because there was something wrong with his mother.
She wobbled as she picked up a shattered blade of her tachi with her bare hand.
Her wings were gone, leaving nothing but the base of her joints still exposed.
It stained her snowy hair in a crude shade of red.
Yet, it didn't stop her from throwing herself at the darkness.
Her fierce battlecry was loud.
A sound that resonated in the air in a strange melody.
It scared Kazuha into place.
Rooted him to watch his mother fight desperately against it.
A battle she was losing clearly.
And there was nothing—
Absolutely nothing he could do.
Kazuha was too young.
Barely ten years.
Then he felt it.
The presence of a god headed their way.
To help them probably—
To save his mother—
Kazuha stumbled into action then.
Ran toward his mother with his tiny, tiny hands.
Because help was on the way.
He could—
Time seemed to slow around him.
And in that single moment— that single second.
His mother glanced at him.
The beast under her struggled and dug into the waters.
Her maple red caught his own in a loving, yet somber smile.
She uttered four simple words as claws impaled her body and dragged her under.
Right into the darkness beneath.
"For your safety— Run."
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"I love you, Kazuha."
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Kazuha stood in the middle of a blood stained beach.
Held nothing but the handle of his mother's broken, broken blade.
Maple red eyes watched as the last remnants of his mother's feathers shattered.
The silence was filled with nothing but the sounds of the crashing waves—
And the crackle of Electro.
**._._._._._.**
There was a Phoenix off the coasts of Inazuma.
A race so rare since the Archon war.
The race of mighty creatures that fought viciously for the gods they served— willingly or not.
Mighty creatures that were sacrificed over and over and over until their end.
Until their treasured wings were ripped from their spine.
Or until their souls were shattered and broken beyond repair.
The very foundation of their existence.
Makoto had seen it once.
Ei had seen it four times.
The Archon War had taken more than it should have.
The skies were barren of their flight.
Their wings hidden from sight.
To even hear of them now was a shock to anyone.
Makoto felt them just mere minutes before.
Even told Ei to rush to their side.
Ei listened to her— because even she felt the immense fear in that Phoenix's desperation.
There was no time to bring another with her.
No time to prepare.
And yet, with all the power she possessed, she was not fast enough.
She felt the powerful presence of the Phoenix disappear.
Saw embers of dying feathers just around the corner.
When she arrived, it was long over.
The battle's aftermath was a horrific one.
The scent of iron was strong as the fresh blood had scattered about.
Some had washed away in the gentle waves that crashed along the beach.
The sand was littered with slashes, deep enough to reform parts of the area.
This— this was a massacre.
Something appeared with enough strength to tear apart the very foundations of a phoenix.
Enough to leave a residue of a foreboding power in its wake.
And yet, at the far edges of the war-torn sands, was a young child.
Who held a shattered blade too large in those tiny hands.
Who stood in the middle of the drenched sands.
But Ei looked again and took it back.
She stared at the baby phoenix.
Her own lavender eyes wide.
And felt her heart twist in her chest.
He was small.
So small.
So tiny.
With large maple red eyes.
Too innocent.
Too pure.
Soft snow locks with a single streak of vermillion.
Too mangled.
Too stained.
The pale green kimono was ruined, even threatened to slip off those thin, thin shoulders.
Ei spotted remains of the obi just a few feet away from them.
The phoenix could not be more than just a few years.
A tiny moment of an eternity.
Far too young to be amidst a war-torn beach.
Too young to be the phoenix Makoto had probably expected.
Ei loosened her grip on her naginata.
Knelt her knees on the soaked sands.
She reached for him—
Only for the tiny, tiny Phoenix to point the shattered blade a hair's breadth from her neck.
Those maple red eyes bore at her.
Dared her to come any closer.
Ei dropped her naginata.
The weight sunk into the sand.
An honest, honest peace offering.
Ei spoke truthfully, "I will not hurt you."
Seconds passed until the blade dropped a mere inch.
The wariness was still there, burning bright behind the maple red.
"Where," her voice too loud in the dead silence, "are your parents."
The silence stretched.
Longer and longer.
Nothing but the waves filled it.
For a moment, Ei thought that the phoenix had lost his voice.
The fresh crimson smeared on his pale skin glistened in the late afternoon sun.
But there was no sign of split skin or hidden pain in his stiff posture.
Until the blade slipped out of his hand, and impaled itself in the soaked sands.
The Phoenix quietly glanced away from her.
And shakily moved his pale hands in a silent gesture.
Fingers curled together before slipping apart.
"She broke."
His voice was far too quiet.
Far too broken.
But the meaning was there.
One that weighed heavily in Ei's chest.
A phoenix's shattered soul could never return.
And this little one was all that was left.
The only thing that still lived on these war-torn sands.
Ei sat on her ankles.
And she held her hands out.
A quiet gesture for the child before her.
Those large maple red eyes stared at her hands.
Then to her face, meeting her lavender eyes.
Within the next blink, the child threw himself into her open arms.
Gripped her kimono in his small tiny fists.
Buried his face in the soft fabric.
And shook in utter silence.
Ei froze, but only for a second.
She wrapped her arms around the tiny, tiny phoenix.
Felt every tremble and heated breaths on her shoulder.
Ei gently ran a hand through that soft, yet tangled snow locks.
It hit her suddenly, that children shouldn't cry with such silence.
Shouldn't swallow their wails with wheezing gasps.
It hit her suddenly, that he was taught this way.
To be no louder than a calming breeze through a trees' leaves.
No louder than the gentle crashing waves of the sea.
Somewhere deep in her chest was rattled.
A fierce urge to whisk the little phoenix away from the bloodstained sands gripped her.
Certainly Makoto wouldn't mind if she brought home a baby phoenix.
Knowing her sister's kindness, Ei was sure that the little one would be in good hands.
She gathered the phoenix, cradled him close to her chest to cover his eyes from the massacre.
A scene that was no doubt burned into the child's memory forever.
Whatever came to kill off the few phoenixes was not fast enough to kill them all.
And Ei knew it would come again.
Just for the baby phoenix in her arms.
There was nothing to bury.
Not a piece of the phoenix's mother remained.
Nothing but the shattered blade impaled in the sands.
Ei did not hesitate to retrieve it, tucking it in her obi for safe keeping.
The Phoenix in her arms was far too quiet, far too still.
"Stay by my side," she spoke into his snowy hair, "And I'll keep you safe."
._._._._._._.
Ei carried the tiny, tiny phoenix in her arms.
Away from the bloodstained beach.
Away from the death that lingered on the sands.
She was close to home.
To the Sacred Sakura she loved so much.
Where her sister and her friends waited for her.
She ignored the tiny pang of grief that flickered in her chest.
A crude reminder that there was one less friend waiting for her now.
"I am Ei," she spoke instead.
Just to distract herself from her own pain.
She didn't expect him to respond.
Nor did she think he was awake enough to listen.
But he lifted his head, maple red eyes attentive.
His tears had dried up a while back.
Through it was clear that he was tired.
Maybe even exhausted, as his body trembled with effort to stay awake.
And yet, he looked up and spoke softly, kindly—
As if his voice was hardly ever used, "Kazuha."
Ei stopped, right underneath a canopy of red maple leaves.
Kazuha, as in a thousand leaves.
A thousand lives.
The meaning was not lost on her.
The tiny phoenix sat up in her arms and caught a single leaf in the breeze.
He looked at her.
Tucked the leaf in her hair.
And settled back against her chest.
Ei smiled then, an expression she rarely gave to anyone.
Makoto was there at a distance.
Waited for them patiently with her open wagasa.
"Kazuha," she held him a little closer.
She felt him shift, and continued on, holding him ever closer.
"From now on, you are safe with us."
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