Our end was never meant to be happy, was it?

Sorrow Already Spoiled

today again a little snow falls

on sorrow already spoiled

today again even the wind blows

through sorrow already spoiled

***

Inazuma was well known for being the land where warriors are born. Numerous fighters, famous in all of Teyvat, hailed from the Electro Archon's islands. But this talent rooted deep in the blood of the samurais did not come for free. Young boys were to be picked by elders, the men with the most experience, who could sense the potential shadowed by youth.

That talent could easily be polished with hard work and tough training, but many times it proved to cost the young boys' lives. The mighty Shogun did not care though, as it was a small price to pay for an army.

Kaedehara Kazuha was born in a clan with much influence, having the potential to become heir, a great honour for his family. Many people spread word about the talent that the young Kaedehara had. It was said he could wield a sword before he could even walk. It did not come as a surprise when he was scouted by the samurais, despite his juvenile appearance, younger than most.

Word had it that the youth had reflexes faster than the wind itself and a precision of the sword sharper than any other child. His family decided that sending their future heir to the Shogun's army would prove to be an advantage, granting them protection. Therefore, at the age of eight, Kazuha was taken away to train.

There was not a single opponent capable of beating him, not in a physical fight or in smarts. Kazuha was ten when he mastered the art of words, which was enough to make most poets in the country go red with jealousy.

One night, when the rest of the boys in their little camp were exhausted and homesick, hoping for the day the bloodshed would come to an end, finally able to return to their families, Kazuha decided to recite some of his haikus. Sadness still lingered all around them, but the faintest sense of hope seemed to flow with the wind. That night, Kazuha did not sleep, spending the whole time preparing new stories and poetry.

From then on, every night when he sensed even the faintest hint of sadness in the air, he would wait for the moon to rise and gather everyone around to recite what he had come up with. It was not much but it was better than nothing.

With age, the kind personality of Kazuha did not change a bit. It was hard to not like the youngster. Jealousy never touched him, his balanced way of being letting him think clearly when trouble arose. Not even enviousness was strong enough to cloud other's minds in this sense. In his whole life up until then, Kazuha had never made a single enemy.

That was until the day a boy joined them in training. He was short and scrawny, with no sight of strength in his body. His face was round and pale, with no scars or any other flaws. He looked more like a prince than a warrior. Kids started talking among themselves. The whispers got to Kazuha's ears.

"Why do you think they would choose someone like him?"

"He won't survive here for long."

"Easy target."

"I'm sorry for him."

Kazuha paid them no mind. Even children could be brutal. Instead, he approached the kid, wanting to make a judgment for himself. Up close, he could tell just how wrong everyone was. He only needed those indigo eyes to glance at him once, the sharpness of the look cutting the air between them faster than a thought. Although the hostility could be easily sensed from many feet apart, Kazuha did not back away.