Author's Note: I should probably apologize, as I have finished writing yet another dark fic. It's been my mindset of late, so I can't help that that's what comes out. I'd love to write something light and upbeat for everyone and will certainly try my best in the future.
This story started out as one thing and became something entirely different. As mentioned in the summary, it takes places during the time after Arago was defeated in season 1 and the Inferno armor came to be and before Ryo awakes in season 2. We don't really know how much time passed between those two episodes, but I figured there was quite a bit of musing that must have taken place. I can't say there was really a video that inspired this one so much as a "What if" question that popped into my mind. On that note, I'm putting a challenge out there for more Ronin Warrior fanvids! We are seriously lacking in the number of new ones and who knows, yours might just be the one that inspires something new!
Thanks go out to Hana Shadowlen for betaing this for me, as well as MimiYamatoForever, Lost-Remembrance, and Electromagnetic Powers Rule for taking the time to review my last story, Alive (although I'm not sure EPR really meant her review as a compliment in any sense of the word....). Even if you don't like the story, feel free to give me a shout out. I'd love to know how many RW/YST fans we still have out there and it would be great to hear from some old friends! Don't forget to check out the poll I'm currently hosting on my page. Thanks for reading and I hope everyone enjoys. The boys don't belong to me.
--MK
Muse
The possibilities are endless when you're young like us. You have your whole life ahead of you to plan and explore. Tomorrow is another chance to make life better than it was today.
And then one day you die.
Maybe you recognized the warnings; maybe you didn't. Maybe you were so blind-sided you didn't realize the inevitable until it was too late. Or maybe you knew all along and you were waiting…waiting…wondering when it would come. Which would be the final blow? When would come the final breath? They say waiting's always the hardest part.
They have no idea.
A soldier is trained to do two things: kill and defend. I may not be the one to make the rules, but even I see the irony in that.
Where there are dreams, there is life; where there is life, there is death; and where there is death, there is peace.
I do not understand this twisted version of serenity. As a mere mortal, it is not expected that I would; but I have seen Death; I have stared it in the eye. And yet here I stand: unchained, boundless; free to pursue what I once did not understand.
I understand.
I understand there are rules to be followed, traditions to be maintained. We are not promised tomorrow, but why don't we live for today? I want to live today. Today I am living for the moment.
In death, there are still dreams. With my final breath, I dreamed of life, of all the things I had failed to do. I thought of friends, novel and past, and wondered why I had been denied the chance to create new memories. Why me? What did I do to deserve such a fate?
In darkness, there exists still a radiance to be seen. A shadow requires light to be cast; despair requires hope to come into existence. As I lie in Arago's body, I did not see my life flash before my eyes. I saw my friends' lives and the experiences they had had. I saw what they would miss and what they would regret. There were still dreams to be had; still loves to be lost; mistakes to be made and battles of a different kind to be conquered.
But I slept on, unaware that time had not ended.
And when at last came the turning of the tide, when the Sun crowned the horizon, my body was a weightless host that carried me from one world to the next. Breaths, beats, thoughts—these are all indications of a life waiting to be lived; wanting to live for tomorrow; wanting to see today. I had been given what most are not; we had been offered the chance to live again. For doing our duty, for dying so young, we were given that second chance.
And so now, in a room, in a bed, in what was once a stranger's house, there is a person too wizened to be called a boy, and yet too young to be called a man. I have seen Death; I have walked in its shadow. To be intimate with its presence I don't desire ever again. But that person treads the divide on a journey he can only make alone.
So we will wait. Sleep on Ryo, but don't forget where it is you belong.
