Little Leona sobbed softly, her eyes fixed on her father, who couldn't move forward, trapped by his helplessness.
And two kilometers away, a young boy continued along the path, accompanied by the wind's breath.
A wind that suddenly seemed to change direction, snapping between the leaves, as if carrying a cry for help.
Soon, their destinies would cross.
Venti: "..."
"Someone needs help!"
At that moment, he knew nothing:
- He didn't know what the danger was.
- He didn't know who needed help.
- He didn't know how to help this person who needed him.
The only thing he knew was the direction the wind was blowing.
He knew that those who needed him were about 2 km to the east.
Venti: "Let's go."
Then he began to put his left foot in front of his right foot, then his right foot in front of his left foot, and so on.
A few seconds later, he quickened his pace to go faster.
And a few seconds after that, he started running.
Venti: "Huuh Huuh Huuh Huuh."
As he ran, his breathing quickened, but there was something else he hadn't noticed yet.
As he ran through the trees and bushes, the wind enveloped his entire body.
It was only a few moments later that Venti realized he was running much faster than he thought he was.
Venti: "Huh?"
The wind completely surrounded his body and followed his every move as he continued to accelerate.
A few moments earlier, Venti had already imagined how the wind could help him run faster, but he hadn't expected to experience this sensation so soon. Normally, when a person runs, each step covers about a meter, but now for Venti, each step covers the equivalent of 2 to 3 meters.
Venti: "That's..."
"Huuh Huuh Huuh Huuh."
"THIS IS AWESOME."
Meanwhile, on Arlan's side:
Arlan was kneeling on the ground, his wrists tied behind his back. One of the bandits was still holding his daughter while the leader and another were unloading the wooden crates from his wagon.
Bandit leader: "You've got some good merchandise, haven't you?"
Arlan: "..."
Bandit leader: "ANSWER ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"
BAM!
The bandit leader punched Arlan in the face simply because he wasn't showing any expression.
The reason Arlan didn't try to defend himself was because he cared about his daughter.
Leona: "Papa!"
Bandit #1: "Don't move!"
When you were taken hostage by a group of bandits, it was best not to try anything.
The bandit leader approached Arlan and grabbed his head by the hair, lifting it to look him in the eyes.
Bandit Leader: "It's really a shame I have to hit you to get a reaction out of you."
"You don't have to worry, in a few moments we'll leave and you can have your daughter in your arms."
"That is, if she's still around by then."
Arlan was afraid something might happen to his daughter, but he couldn't react so as not to show his fear.
For Leona, however, it was more complicated.
Leona: "Sniff, sniff."
Léona, on the other hand, was just a child, only 8 years old, and she certainly didn't have her father's courage.
Even though she was crying, she tried not to scream so as not to make things worse.
But just because you don't scream when you cry doesn't mean no one notices you're crying.
And unfortunately for Léona, the person who noticed her tears was the bandit holding her with a knife to her throat.
Bandit #2: "What is it?"
"HEY CHIEF, THE KID'S CRYING!"
Bandit Leader: "It doesn't matter. Anyway, we won't need her much longer."
Arlan's: "Or you'd better not hurt her!"
Bandit Leader: "We'll be in the dark."
"Anyway, no one's going to come to your aid."
"We're in the middle of a forest."
"What kind of person would hear the cries of a little girl and a father?"
"Besides, the nearest village is about ten kilometers away; no one will have time to come looking for you."
The bandit leader uttered the last part of the sentence without realizing that someone was actually rushing straight toward them.
He didn't know that a young boy, guided by the wind, would soon get rid of them.
Meanwhile, on Venti's side:
Venti darted between the trees, his body almost weightless.
Each step lifted a thin veil of dead leaves, immediately swept away behind him by a gust of wind generated by his own speed.
The tree trunks passed by on either side, and he slipped between them as if the wind were opening an invisible passage for him.
Instead of whipping him, the lower branches seem to lift just enough to allow him to pass without slowing down.
He crossed the first pile of mossy rocks.
The wind swirled around his legs, and with a surprisingly light leap, he found himself on the other side without even feeling his own weight.
Each movement gave him the impression that gravity had diminished, as if the air itself were catching him to support him and prevent him from falling.
With each step he took, he felt as if no one could catch him.
The bushes became thicker, more numerous, but nothing stopped him.
When his feet brushed against roots or clumps of tall grass, it was like walking on a cushion of air.
The twigs that should have snapped beneath him simply bent, supported by the pressure of the wind that preceded his steps.
He even felt, at times, gentle currents slipping under his arms and down his back, pushing him along, encouraging him, like a familiar and protective force.
The terrain became more uneven, scattered with damp stones and slippery stumps, but he no longer needed to think.
His body reacted on its own, guided by the instinct of the wind.
He leaped over rocks, bounced off a fallen log, ducked to avoid a branch, circled a tightly packed tree, all with an almost unreal fluidity.
With each breath, the air seemed lighter, more invigorating, as if it were infusing him with the energy to continue and accelerate even further.
The further he went, the clearer the feeling became:
he wasn't running against the wind.
He was running with it.
In reality, the wind that was drawing him along wasn't trying to fulfill his wishes; it was already within him, willingly responding to his every whim.
And with each second, each tree he passed, each obstacle he overcame, he was brought closer to the danger he had sensed.
An inner voice whispered insistently:
Venti: "Faster... we have to get there faster."
Meanwhile, on Arlan's side:
Meanwhile, on Arlan's side, the situation was deteriorating rapidly.
The man had been tackled to the ground by two bandits.
His heart was pounding as he stared helplessly at the scene just a few meters away: his daughter, Léona, held down by a third bandit, a dagger pressed against her throat.
She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve, her small chest rising and falling with her rapid, ragged breaths.
Arlan tried to struggle again, but a kick to the ribs stopped him dead.
He stifled a groan, more worried about frightening his daughter than about being hurt.
Arlan: "Don't touch her... I beg you,"
He gasped.
It was now harder for him to remain calm when a man threatened to plunge a knife into his daughter's throat.
The bandit leader, a tall man with a scarred face, crouched down in front of him.
His eyes gleamed with cold malice.
Bandit leader: "Don't worry, friend, as long as you cooperate, she'll stay whole." He gestured with his chin toward the overturned cart.
Bandit leader: "You were transporting valuable goods, weren't you?"
"But I know that wagon wasn't carrying everything."
"Give me the location of the rest, and we'll sort it out."
Arlan gritted his teeth. He had nothing valuable, only food, a few tools, and two small wooden sculptures he had made for Leona's birthday.
He opened his mouth to explain... but immediately closed his lips again.
The leader had just smiled.
That smile of someone who knows they're not being told everything.
Bandit leader: "Ah. So you're hiding something."
The bandit tightened his grip on the little girl, who began to tremble all over.
Arlan felt a chill run through his chest.
A single thought swirled in his head, obsessive, almost painful:
Arlan's: "Someone... someone, please."
FFFffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
The wind suddenly rose, stirring the grass and flapping the canvas hanging from the overturned cart.
The bandits looked up, startled by the sudden gust.
Bandit Leader: "No need to panic, it was just the wind."
Bandit #1: "I really thought someone had found us."
Arlan's: "............."
Arlan, however, sensed something.
A presence in the air.
A vibrating energy, drawing closer, swift, furious, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
He didn't know who or what was happening.
But a glimmer of hope, as thin as a thread, rekindled in his eyes.
FFFffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
Suddenly, Venti appeared before the group, bursting from the vegetation like a literal gust of wind.
They swirled around him as he set foot on the ground, still breathless from his frantic run, but his clear gaze remained perfectly steady.
A new, almost instinctive force vibrated in each of his movements, as if the wind itself had decided to join the dance.
The bandits, surprised by this sudden appearance, took a step back.
The air around the young boy rippled slightly, as if heated by an invisible energy, or rather, lifted by subtle currents that responded to his emotions.
The leader narrowed his eyes.
Bandit leader: "A kid?"
He didn't have time to add anything else. Venti took a step forward, slowly, almost lightly.
Yet, every leaf on the ground vibrated beneath his soles, as if stirred by a breath he could only half control.
His heart was beating fast, not from fear, but from a strange feeling:
A mixture of determination and familiarity, as if he had lived through this kind of scene hundreds of times, in another life, in another body, and on another continent.
His gaze slid to the little girl, still held by the throat.
His face had tightened.
A painful pang pierced his chest.
Venti: "I arrived just in time."
He thought.
Venti: "The wind guided me."
The bandits hadn't yet grasped what lay before them:
A frail boy, certainly… but surrounded by a peculiar, almost unreal aura.
Venti took a deep breath.
A murmur answered in the air, a shiver that made his hair dance and his flimsy clothes lift slightly.
FFFFFFffffffffff
The wind swirled around him like a loyal beast recognizing its master, ready to pounce.
He planted his heels in the ground, raised his hand slightly, and his voice rang out, calm but sharp:
Venti: "Let her go."
"Right away."
A tense silence fell.
Bandit leader: "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA."
The leader burst into harsh laughter. He was surprised to see a young boy appear out of nowhere, but he hadn't thought he'd be so audacious as to speak like that.
SLASH
His laughter was instantly shattered when a violent gust of wind surged through, slashing the grass and staggering the men.
Venti: "................"
Bandit Leader: "................ "
Leona: "................ "
Arlan's: "................ "
Bandit #1: "................ "
Bandit #2: "................ "
Venti hadn't moved.
The wind, however, was beginning to obey.
Bandit Leader: "YOU BASTARD!"
As the leader of the group advanced, a threatening glint in his eyes, ready to attack Venti, something unexpected happened.
Without him understanding how, a bow suddenly appeared in the young boy's hand.
Venti: "Huh?"
"Where did that thing come from?"
The wood, gleaming as if polished by the wind, seemed perfectly familiar to him, as if he had always known it.
His fingers curled around the string with instinctive ease, and an arrow appeared as well, floating lightly between his fingers as if guided by an invisible force.
The bandits recoiled, surprised and hesitant, unable to comprehend the speed with which the boy had armed himself.
Even the usually self-assured leader narrowed his eyes and frowned.
Venti inhaled deeply, feeling the wind intensify around him, like a living energy ready to leap forth at every silent command.
His heart pounded, but he wasn't paralyzed by fear: he felt the power coursing through him, a force he had never fully experienced in this body, but one he knew deep within his soul.
The arrow vibrated slightly in his fingers, as if aware of its target, ready to be released.
The chief took a step forward, determined not to show any weakness, but Venti, with a simple flick of his wrist, aimed with instinctive precision.
The wind swirled around the arrow, supporting it, amplifying its force and speed.
Venti: "Release it."
Venti said, his voice firm but calm, like a whisper carried by the wind throughout the clearing.
Silence fell.
The tension was palpable, and each bandit understood they were facing something more than just a child.
Venti felt his connection to the wind grow stronger.
Each breath, each gust of air around him made him lighter, more agile.
His body seemed to float lightly, ready to move the moment he needed to.
And, in his mind, a thought took hold:
Venti: "I must protect the girl... and quickly."
The chief frowned, but fear was already beginning to creep into his eyes.
Venti, motionless, bow raised, felt the wind itself preparing the ground for the moment it would strike.
Bandit leader: "Good heavens, who are you?"
Venti hesitated before finally answering.
Venti: "My name is Venti."
Chapter 3: My Name Is Venti
The End