The next morning dawned cold and still. A thin fog clung to the terraces, curling between the stone columns like restless spirits. The estate felt heavier with his father's return — weighty with authority, expectation, and history. Rai had not seen him for weeks, the gaps filled with longing, envy, and the constant itch of inadequacy. Now, the man who had maintained peace across twelve nations stood in the courtyard, silent and imposing, his dark robes brushing against the stone as he moved.
"Rai," his father said quietly, surveying him as he trained, "your potential is undeniable. But potential alone does not make a warrior. Discipline and understanding make one immortal in the memory of the world."
Sparks flickered along Rai's fingertips as he moved, small arcs of lightning that danced like restless children. He wanted to impress his father, to show him that he could be more than chaos incarnate, that he could channel the Flow with purpose. Yet every misstep, every uncontrolled surge reminded him he was not ready — not yet.
Retsu stood apart, expression unreadable, listening as emissaries arrived from Karu, Suin, and Fuyu with warnings of rising skirmishes along the borders. His posture was flawless, movements precise, eyes calculating every gesture, every word. Rai felt the chill of envy gnaw at him. How could Retsu remain so calm when the weight of the world pressed on their shoulders? How could he appear untouched by the Flow, so grounded in control while Rai's own energy threatened to shatter everything around him?
Master Toshiro, standing to one side, gave a subtle nod of approval at Retsu's composure, though his eyes flicked back to Rai, sharp and assessing. The boy was a storm in motion, untamed lightning in human form. It was beautiful, terrifying, and… dangerous. Rai's uncontrolled energy reminded the older master of the legends he had heard whispered long ago — the rare awakening of Nox Force, energy born from tragedy and rage, and the devastation it could bring. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, but it lingered like a shadow at the edges of his mind.
Rai's father finally stepped closer, boots ringing against stone. "Your lightning is… wild," he said, voice low, measured. "But potential without control is useless. The Flow must answer to your will, not the other way around. Understand this, Rai. Discipline will temper chaos. Precision will give meaning to your power. Only then will you become more than a child chasing sparks."
Rai clenched his fists, lightning crackling along his arms, reacting to his impatience and frustration. "I know! I'm trying! I'm… I just can't!" His voice cracked with the weight of his own doubt, the pressure of legacy, and the constant comparison to his perfect brother. Sparks hissed from his skin, leaping to the stone and sending tiny arcs into the air.
Retsu approached quietly, shadowing Rai's every movement. "Trying is not enough," he said. "You cannot bend the Flow with brute force. You must feel it, understand it. Control is learned through patience, not anger."
Rai looked at him, lips pressed into a tight line. He wanted to argue, to throw the words back like lightning bolts, but he felt the subtle truth behind them. He had the power, yes, but power alone was meaningless without mastery. Every uncontrolled spark that danced across his fingers reminded him of that painful fact.
Later, in the quiet of the estate's inner gardens, Rai's mother appeared, carrying a small wooden cup of steaming tea. Her presence was a soft contrast to the biting cold of the morning, a gentle warmth amid the tense atmosphere. She handed him the cup, her eyes calm, yet heavy with worry.
"You cannot rush mastery," she said softly, voice carrying more authority than any instructor. "Strength without understanding is destruction. Your father's lightning is not simply raw energy — it is guided, honed, and disciplined. It is responsibility, Rai."
Rai drank deeply, the warmth of the tea running through him, though it did little to calm the storm inside. "I… I just want to feel it. To be the Thunder Child. Not someone who hesitates, or falters, or disappoints."
Her hand rested gently on his shoulder. "Feeling power is not the same as controlling it. Your Flow is strong, yes, but the world outside is full of currents you cannot yet see. Shadows move where your eyes cannot reach, and the strongest will fall if they cannot bend the Flow to their will."
He frowned, staring down at the steaming tea. The words sank in slowly, leaving a chill even deeper than the morning air. Rai did not yet understand what she meant — the threats beyond the estate, the whispers of war, or the legends of Nox Force — but a seed of unease took root.
By midday, emissaries had departed, leaving the estate quieter, though tension lingered like the remnants of a storm. Rai practiced alone, leaping across terraces, sparks dancing along his arms. The wind carried the faint scent of wet stone and pine, the subtle hum of natural energy threading through the estate. The Flow was everywhere, he realized, in the rain, the air, the ground beneath his feet — but it was not fully his yet. Control eluded him like smoke, intangible, teasing, always just beyond reach.
As night fell, Rai stood atop the highest terrace, the fog rolling across the estate in ghostly waves. Lightning flickered in the distance, mirrored by the faint arcs still clinging to his skin. He could feel the first tremors of something darker — subtle currents in the Flow, whispers of a power that could consume even the strongest. Nox Force. A shadow buried deep within the world, rare, almost mythical, but whispered in hushed tones as a force that could break kingdoms and shatter warriors.
He shivered and shook it off, focusing instead on the storm in his veins. The estate, the twelve nations, the delicate peace maintained by his father — all of it was a weight he could feel pressing down on him. And yet, the thrill of power, the lightning dancing along his arms, reminded him that he was alive, that the Flow pulsed within him, ready to respond when he learned to command it.
Rai's mother appeared beside him once more, quiet as a shadow. "Hold your heart, Rai," she whispered. "Even when the world bends against you, even when the currents of the Flow turn dark, you must remember who you are. The storm inside you is yours to master — or it will master you."
He nodded silently, feeling the storm of frustration, ambition, and raw energy coil tighter in his chest. Rai did not yet understand what lay ahead, the betrayals, battles, or curses that awaited him. But he felt the spark of destiny, a faint light in the darkness, and for the first time, he wondered if he could one day harness it all — Sol Force, Flow, and even the whispers of Nox — and become more than chaos incarnate.
The night deepened, the estate cloaked in shadow, and Rai clenched his fists, lightning dancing across his skin one last time before fading. The world beyond Inazuma was changing, currents of treachery stirring in the distance, but for now, he was alive, restless, and full of potential — the Thunder Child, waiting for his moment to rise.