The sea called to him.
The Resistance had given him purpose, battle had shaped him, and his forge had reborn him. But deep within, the restless tides whispered of something more—something beyond the war for Inazuma.
Denzan stood at the edge of the shoreline, his new katana and pistol strapped to his side. The wind carried the salty scent of the ocean, mingling with the faint crackle of Electro still pulsing through his veins. The Vision on his sheath gleamed under the sun, a constant reminder of the power that had chosen him.
His brother approached, silent at first. Then, with his usual smirk, he said, "You're leaving."
Denzan exhaled. "The Shogunate isn't my only battle. I need to see the world beyond this war—to forge something greater than just another sword for another fight."
His brother studied him for a long moment before nodding. "You always had that look in your eyes. Like the horizon was never enough." He folded his arms. "But don't forget—this fight isn't over."
Denzan glanced back at the Resistance camp, the people who had become his comrades. "I know. And when they need me, I'll return."
The tide lapped at the shore, as if beckoning him forward.
His brother pulled something from his coat—a small metal emblem shaped like a stylized wave, worn but polished. "Take this. A little reminder that no matter how far you sail, you're still one of us."
Denzan took the emblem, turning it over in his palm. "Thanks." He tucked it into his coat and met his brother's gaze. "Try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone."
His brother smirked. "Same to you, pirate."
With that, Denzan stepped onto the waiting boat, the wood creaking beneath his weight. As the sails unfurled and the wind caught them, he felt something shift within him. This wasn't just escape—it was the beginning of something greater.
The storm had forged him. Now, the sea would test him.
As the shores of Inazuma faded behind him, Kajiwara Denzan set sail toward the unknown—toward adventure, toward the rarest materials, and toward the greatest weapon he had yet to forge.
The waves crashed against the hull of Denzan's ship, their rhythm steady yet unpredictable—just like the path he now walked. The sea was a place of freedom, untamed and endless, yet with each passing day, he realized it was also a proving ground.
Denzan stood at the helm, the salty wind whipping through his hair. His katana rested at his hip, its blade humming faintly with residual Electro energy. His pistol, freshly forged, was secured at his waist. He had spent his life creating weapons for others, but now, every strike, every shot, every storm he faced was his own.
His destination? Wherever the sea carried him.
But adventure did not wait long.
As night fell, the sky darkened with more than just the setting sun. Thick storm clouds loomed ahead, flashing with distant lightning. A warning—or an invitation.
Denzan's grip tightened on the wheel. He had tamed the forge's fire, stood against the Shogunate's might, and wielded lightning itself. He would not turn away from a mere storm.
The first bolt struck the sea ahead, illuminating the silhouette of another ship—one with tattered sails and a black flag bearing an unfamiliar emblem. Pirates.
Denzan smirked. *Figures. The sea wouldn't let me have a quiet first voyage.*
The enemy ship turned, cutting through the waters toward him. Moments later, a voice rang out over the crashing waves.
"That's a fine little boat you've got there, stranger! Hand it over, along with your weapons, and maybe we won't gut you!"
Denzan exhaled, resting a hand on his katana's hilt. "You want my ship? Come and take it."
Laughter echoed from the enemy vessel, followed by the sound of grappling hooks latching onto his deck. Pirates swarmed aboard, their blades gleaming in the storm's dim light.
Denzan welcomed them with steel and thunder.
His katana cut through the first attacker's blade with ease, electricity crackling through the metal and sending the pirate sprawling. Another lunged at him from behind, only to meet the barrel of his pistol. A single shot rang out, the bullet infused with Electro, sending a jolt through the unlucky fool.
The battle raged across the deck, but Denzan moved like the storm itself—swift, unpredictable, relentless. These weren't trained warriors like the Shogunate soldiers; they were greedy scavengers, unprepared for someone who had already faced the wrath of the Raiden Shogun's rule.
Lightning split the sky once more, and in that brief moment of clarity, Denzan saw the pirate captain—a hulking figure with a serrated cutlass crackling with Pyro energy.
The captain sneered. "Not bad, boy. But let's see if you can handle a real fight."
Denzan smirked, rolling his shoulders. "I was hoping for a challenge."
Their blades met with a flash of fire and lightning. Sparks danced as they clashed, the storm around them mirroring their battle. The pirate captain fought with raw power, each swing of his cutlass heavy and ruthless. But Denzan was faster, his movements precise, his strikes guided by instinct and the storm's rhythm.
A sudden feint let him slip past the captain's guard, and with a single decisive stroke, he carved a jagged arc across the man's chest. The pirate staggered back, breathing heavily, before snarling.
"This ain't over!" he spat before hurling himself overboard, vanishing into the raging sea.
The remaining pirates, seeing their leader flee, scrambled back to their ship and cut their lines. Within minutes, they were gone, swallowed by the storm.
Denzan exhaled, flicking the water from his blade before sheathing it. His ship was battered but still afloat. He had won.
As the storm began to clear, he looked toward the horizon. This was only the beginning.
The sea had tested him—and he had answered with thunder.