The morning sun spilled across the Inazuma estate, lighting up the terraces, training grounds, and rooftops where Rai Inazuma was already moving like a storm made flesh. Black hair tipped with white streaks danced in the wind as he leapt across narrow ledges, laughed loudly, and waved a practice blade at anyone daring enough to challenge him. The wooden roofs creaked under his weight, and the wind carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms from the gardens below. Rai's laughter echoed across the estate, carrying the reckless joy of youth, of untested potential, and of a freedom that was both thrilling and dangerous.
"Rai! Get down from there before you fall!" an instructor shouted, voice cracking with panic. The man's eyes were wide, veins pulsing on his temples, as he ran to keep pace with Rai's acrobatics. Several trainees behind him froze, unsure whether to cheer, laugh, or flee, but all felt the same nervous thrill — there was something hypnotic about Rai's chaotic energy.
Rai grinned, balancing effortlessly on the edge of the rooftop. "Why? I'm perfectly fine!" He vaulted across a gap to the next rooftop, rolling midair with fluid precision, and landed on the edge of a carved stone railing. Sparks of lightning flickered across his fingers — jagged, uncontrolled, beautiful. A surge of power, raw and dangerous, yet wholly useless because he could not master it. The small bolts sizzled in the morning air, leaving faint scorch marks where they touched the stone, and some trainees instinctively took a step back, muttering prayers under their breath.
From below, Retsu, his older brother, watched with quiet disapproval. Calm. Measured. Perfect. Rai's reckless energy clashed violently against his brother's precision, a storm against a rock. Retsu's posture was straight, his breathing even, his eyes scanning every movement with a careful analysis that Rai could never hope to match — not yet, anyway.
"One day, that recklessness will kill you," Retsu said, voice steady, almost bored, though the faint crease in his brow betrayed a flicker of worry.
"Then I'll go out spectacularly!" Rai called back, already running to the next rooftop. Lightning sparked along his skin again, wild and untamed. He tried to contain it, but control was elusive, and every surge left him drained. Each movement, each jump, each spark that licked the air around him sent a thrill coursing through his veins. He could feel the rhythm of the city below, the heartbeat of the estate itself, and for a moment, it seemed as if the Flow of the world bent to his will — or at least whispered that it might someday.
Rai was known as the Thunder Child, and for good reason. His bloodline flowed with lightning, an inheritance of speed, reflex, and raw energy unmatched in the Twelve Nations. Yet potential alone was not enough. Rai's father, the legendary Raijin of Inazuma, had maintained fifty years of peace across the elemental nations — Karu (fire), Suin (water), Fuyu (ice), Roku (earth), Kaze (wind), Hikari (light), Yami (dark), Sei (spirit), Tatsu (beast), Getsu (moon), and Hin (sun) — and his skill and authority were unmatched. Rai, by contrast, could barely control a spark. Every bolt that danced along his fingers reminded him of his shortcomings, of the gap he would one day have to close.
Inside the estate, envoys whispered respectfully of the Raijin, the man whose strategy and power had prevented war for decades. Rai noticed the glances, the nods, but he didn't care. For now, he only cared about leaping, laughing, and feeling alive. The estate was vast, a kingdom unto itself, with courtyards, gardens, training grounds, and halls lined with banners of his father's victories. Each corner seemed to hum with history, as if the walls themselves remembered the feats of the generations that had come before him.
By mid-morning, Rai had raced through the entire estate, sparred with everyone, and tested his abilities as best he could. The lightning danced across his fingers and arms, occasionally shooting off in sparks that startled trainees and scorched stone. Weakness clung to him like a shadow, a reminder that potential without control was meaningless. His breath came in quick bursts, his limbs ached, and yet he laughed, because in that chaos, he felt alive.
Even so, he felt the thrill — the raw instinct of lightning in motion, reacting faster than thought, moving as if the air itself obeyed him. He didn't yet understand that this instinct was the seed of something far greater, something that would one day define him. Each leap, each uncontrolled spark, was a conversation with the Flow, an untamed song of energy that few could even sense, let alone manipulate.
Retsu observed quietly, correcting every misstep Rai made. Every fall, every uncontrolled spark, was a lesson in contrast: one brother, precise and measured; the other, wild, untamed, and chaotic. The contrast would define Rai's journey. He would have to learn control before power, restraint before recklessness. The Flow would not forgive folly.
As Rai paused atop the highest rooftop, gazing out over the twelve nations' borders, he could almost feel their tension, the fragile balance of peace maintained by his father's hand. Each nation was defined by its power, its specialty: fire, water, ice, wind, shadow, light, spirit, beasts, moon, and sun. Each had its own ambitions, its own rivalries. And all of them respected — feared — Inazuma.
Rai let the wind whip through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment to feel the current of energy beneath his feet, the subtle pulse of Sol Force that flowed through the estate, and the faint hum of natural energy that connected everything — lightning, air, stone, even the trees swaying in the gardens below. He could sense the world as a lattice of power, though he barely understood it. He was alive, and alive in a way only those born with lightning could feel: every nerve ending sang with energy, every heartbeat matched the rhythm of the world itself.
But even the Raijin's legacy could not shield Rai from the coming storm. One day, the boy who laughed at rooftops, who could barely control his sparks, would face betrayal, loss, and a land of cursed power where only the strong survived. For now, Rai laughed, chased the wind, and reveled in the lightning in his veins, unaware that the world was quietly preparing to test him — and that he was far weaker than he imagined.
And yet, in that reckless joy, there was a promise. A spark waiting to ignite. Rai would grow, as lightning always does, striking where it was needed most, but only after learning to bend its power to his will. For now, the estate, the sun, the wind, and the Flow itself bore witness to the boy who was more storm than man — untamed, untouchable, and full of potential.