Tatsuya had always been fascinated by storms; the way the sky turned dark and ominous, the sounds of thunder, flashes of lightning, and the rush of turbulent winds. Now, pulled off his feet as he was and tossed into the air (before he could even think of a way to escape) that fascination was replaced with a healthy dose of fear.

His mouth and eyes were sealed, breathing laboured, and his ears were accosted by the apocalyptic droning, a deafening howl that drowned all other sounds; his clothes whipped around his form, torn and stained by the sturdy and steady bombardment of the debris trapped in the tornado.

His senses were overwhelmed thoroughly and he was struck with inconsistency and incoherency in his thoughts. He couldn't focus; his mind was too fixated on his immediate experience, yet he barely registered the impacts and lacerations anymore. Maybe if he had the same speciality as the raider or one that trumped hers, and greater mastery over the element, he could have taken control of the tornado and turned it against its summoner — but what hopes did he have of accomplishing that if he was unable to even discern the direction he was swept in.

He tried anyway, forcing himself past the fear to bring together what few brain cells he had left — the ones the debris had not removed — to spark up an escape plan. He needed to get out of the tornado or, best case scenario, he would be flung to the ground so hard and fast he probably wouldn't survive the impact. If he somehow remained in its swirling updraft, however — and if he didn't suffocate first — he would die from sharp force trauma.

Neither option sounded appealing, so how does one beat a natural disaster?

The short answer, no matter how bitter its taste in his mouth, was that he couldn't, especially since he was not a master of the element yet. The long answer, on the other hand, was that the tornado would overpower every attempt to control it with its vigour. If he wanted to survive, the best thing to do was to use his hands to protect his head and neck as much as possible when he was eventually thrown out.

However, it seemed the spirits had other plans for him as, one moment, the tornado was like a living creature — a massive, wreathing, and unyielding serpent of wind and debris — and the next, the temperature plummeted sharply, and the tornado froze solid.

It was only his luck that he wasn't frozen along with the air, though he was still within the confines of the icy construct.

There was a brief feeling of weightlessness and, for a moment, a split second really, panic and confusion gripped his heart, even as he marvelled at the sheer scope of Rei’s feat — because what other water elemental could have helped him. Then, everything not frozen in place fell, and his nerves became steel. He regained his composure, using his newfound freedom over his element to reorient himself, and pushed all pain to the back of his mind for the meantime.

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Creativity hit him and he found himself getting his focus back on track, angling his fall toward the majority of the debris. One large and sturdy-looking rock caught his attention, and in his haste to get to it, he used the other rocks as stepping stones, moving up with incredible grace and agility despite his injuries.

With each leap, Tatsuya felt himself grow confident in his plan. It was a decidedly simple one, but cut off from the rest of the Wind Blades for spirits knew how long — and so, unaware of the results of the clash — he couldn't afford to waste more time. He finally reached the particular rock, and as he landed lightly on it, a minor shift of the surrounding currents rotated them until he was acceptably positioned, and a push from his feet sent it careening at the construct.

Even as he turned the momentum into a flip, he allowed a small smile to play on his lips as a loud crack sounded. His feet touched another piece of debris, and though this one was flimsy compared to his makeshift projectile, it was sufficient for him to kick off it. A controlled blast was released at the last second, giving him that extra push to propel himself forward sharply and with a loud boom. He spun himself as he shot off like an arrow toward the site of the crack, and the air responded hungrily to his movements (as if ready and willing to serve after failing him earlier) and formed a vortex around his body — minuscule and lacking than the tornado, maybe, but certainly able to do its job.

Thin, cloudy shadows fell across him as he broke free from the icy construct: shards of ice catching the glint of sunlight, the dissipated remnants of the vortex ebbing and swirling around his form, and the drops of blood from his latest cuts. The air whipped his hair and clothes in the opposite direction, displaying his torn bandages and scars (numerous lines and splotches of faded silvers and bright reds) to any who dared look up and risked their opponents capitalising.

A vortex formed around him again on his way to the ground, towards a flagging Rei — the feat must have taken a lot from the man — and the raider. She was turned away from him and distracted, but an air elemental was always aware of their surroundings, so he gave her no time to react, kicking at the empty space behind him with enough force to send him blitzing. He had the opportunity to pay the raider back for her stunt, and nothing was going to stop him from delivering his reprisal; she slammed into the ground so hard she bounced, bones cracking audibly and breath escaping sharply.

Rei graciously stepped aside, not that the man was given much of a choice, as Tatsuya pressed his advantage before the raider could even think of regaining her bearing, picking up her bo staff from where it clattered and, in the same motion, raising her with the currents.

A quick strike to her head with the staff dissuaded her from trying anything and a low sweep fell her, before a downward smash robbed her of any cohesive thought and, lastly — flipping from the sheer force of the previous attack and using air to add power — a downward strike with the weapon’s butt ended her life.

In that precious second, just before she died, her grey eyes locked onto his, glistening with unshed tears and silent pleas for mercy. He didn't look away as he brought the staff down (didn't even flinch really), instead committing the sights and sounds — the sickening crunch of her skull exploding on impact, the splattered bone fragments, brain matter, and other bits of gore — to memory.

However, there was no satisfaction to be had in her death, even though he couldn't stop the small upturn of his lips as he leaned heavily on the staff, limbs slightly trembling and mouth open, harsh pants escaping, and body caked with sweat, dust, and dried blood.

He eventually collapsed on the corpse, strength having deserted him in one fell swoop (and it said something about his pain tolerance that he didn’t pass out) but he didn't care for his further desecration of the raider’s corpse as he raised his eyes to be met with a scene of total devastation, a stark reminder of the power of the elements, aspects of nature itself, they manipulated; burnt corpses interspersed amid thick outgrowths of the ground and green vines, tall enough to shade the vicinity from the sun — and, dotted around said scene, were the Wind Blades, in various positions and states of undress and injuries, looking exhausted but triumphant.

It was obvious a great battle had taken place, and the part of him not concerned with remaining unconscious wished he had bore witness to it rather than the tornado he experienced.