And so it begins… (again)...
*Revised*
"Once upon a time, there was a large and beautiful kingdom in a distant land. The kingdom was ruled by a kind and generous king, but despite everything he did for his people, many of the villagers were left underprivileged. One of them, a young and kind hearted boy, was left to care not only for himself, but for his severely ill mother…"
Ryou's POV
I felt a sense of despair and hopelessness wash over me as I watched my mother go into another coughing fit. Her whole body trembled while her face contorted into an expression of agony, but I knew that I could hardly do anything to ease the pain. Gently, I took her brittle hand into my own and waited until she had finally stopped coughing. Her breathing was heavy and ragged; her body still shaking from the aftermath of the attack.
"Are you feeling any better?" I asked with a tone of concern. I didn't want to face the truth- my mother was sick, and it wouldn't be long now before things got worse. But sooner or later her condition would get worse, and I didn't want to think about that.
"Just a little." She said in an almost inaudible whisper and a weak smile. It was hard for me to smile back, seeing just how much she had changed since she had first gotten sick. She had lost so much weight that she looked almost as thin and brittle as a piece of paper. Her long silver hair, which used to glisten with the light, was now coarse and dull. However, the most disheartening thing of all was that the light and life in her eyes was beginning to fade, making me feel as though someone was reaching in an ripping my heart to pieces.
Eventually, I gave a small sigh and an even smaller smile "That's good to hear. You'll be getting better in no time, just you wait and see." I gave her hand a gentle squeeze before standing up from the chair next to her bed and moving over towards the small nightstand. I picked up the small bottle of medication and poured the last bit of it into her glass of water, watching as the gray powder dissolved in the liquid. She said nothing the entire time, watching me tiredly through her somber green eyes.
I helped my mother into a sitting position and placed the glass to her lips, letting her drink up the water and medicine mixture. As soon as she was finished, I went to help her lie down again, but she stopped me and took a hold of my hand instead.
"Ryou," she spoke softly, though her voice trembled on the verge of another cough attack, "I want you to take this-" she coughed, "to the market. Get anything you need, sweetheart." She managed to get the rest of it out before the she began coughing uncontrollably again.
In my hand she had placed her glimmering heart shaped locket. It was a precious memento that had been passed down in her family for generations- it was significant in meaning as it was in its making.
"I can't sell this!" I stammered, looking down at the locket in my hand. The metal was no longer smooth, with small scratches on its surface, but it was still beautiful nonetheless. Yet, as I argued back, my mother had already fallen back asleep.
I furrowed my brow, conflicted by the new circumstances. I could easily trade the locket for money- and medicine, for that matter. But on the other hand, I would be giving away something that was special to my mother and her family.
Minutes passed as I just stood and stared down at the small object in my hand. As much as I didn't want to, I forced myself to place the locket in my pocket and walked out the door and into the street.
Going into the market was almost like stepping into a completely different world. It was filled with people of all ages, all races, and all sorts of appearances. The diversity, however, was not only in the people, but the things being sold at the marketplace. At one stand, you could buy fresh produce and spices, while on the next you could be looking at weapons or odd novelties. There was always a hectic aura when one went to the market. Venders yelling, selling, and trading to anyone who walked by; people pushing to get by, along with kids or animals running loose among the crowds. It was also a good place for pickpockets and thieves to get loaded on anything they could get their hands on. Yet, nobody seemed to care: it was like the marketplace was in fact a living being, with its pieces and parts that kept everything in balance.
I, for one, didn't enjoy coming to the marketplace.
I couldn't tell what it was about it- the noises, the smells, the filth, the danger- but I avoided coming to the marketplace unless absolutely necessary. But in the end, it seemed that fate had other plans for me today.
I made my way through the bustling crowd, making sure to avoid as much contact as I could, though there was hardly any point in trying. We were all clustered together like bees in a lively beehive. Eventually, I reached my destination: an old, worn down shack towards the end of the marketplace. Its rotting wood planks appeared to be barely held together by the rusty nails, and a number of odd aromas wafted out from its open door. I made my way inside, finding it very dimly lit and therefore hard to see. I could make out shelves upon shelves of bottles, jars, and containers filled with mysterious specimens. I made my carefully through the shack, trying to find the light source in hopes that the medicine man would be nearby as well.
The medicine man was an elderly man of unknown descent, with beady black eyes and wispy white hair that matched his long, trailing beard. He always appeared to be in a dissatisfied with everything, and to this day I still don't know whether that's just what his face looked like or whether he truly is upset at the world.
I wouldn't be that surprised if it was the latter, to be completely honest.
I had finally found the candle lighting up the shack, but I saw no sign of the medicine man. I looked all around me, hearing the walls and the floor creak under my weight. Finally, I decided to speak.
"Hello?" I asked quietly, as if I didn't want to disturb whatever was in the shadows of the tiny shack.
"Who's there?" A raspy voice answered back from somewhere in the darkness. I couldn't tell what direction it had come from, and it made me jump a little, so I made sure to stay right next to the candle light as I peered around and tried to make out a figure somewhere out in the room.
"It's- it's me, Ryou Bakura." My voice was quiet, but not enough to not hear the inflection of wariness in my voice. "I came by to get some medicine. It's for my mother."
"Medicine?" The voice repeated back. "Medicine will not help you. No, you need something stronger…" There was some mumbling after that and some mysterious clatters and clangs of bottles before the raggedy old man stepped into the light in front of me with a rolled up piece of paper and a long wooden staff he was using as a cane. He placed it in my hands with a loud huff, pushing up his thick, round glasses with one shaky hand.
He looked at me with those intimidating dark eyes and said, "That is the coveted map to the magicae flower. It is a very ancient yet powerful plant that can heal any and all illnesses. Bring it to me and I can create an elixir for your mother."
I stared at him in disbelief, furrowing my brow in confusion. "So," I began slowly, "you're telling me to use this map and get you a… magic flower?..."
"Yes," he answered sternly, and clearly annoyed, "what part of that did you not understand, boy?"
"Oh, I don't know- the part with the magical flower!" I replied in bewilderment.
However, next thing I knew, the old man smacked me on the side of the head; not enough to be harmful, but enough for it to hurt a little.
"Don't be a fool! There are forces much more powerful than us in this world, boy. Now, if you want to help your mother, you are going to have to go in search of this flower." He narrowed his eyes at me, which made me feel a little uncomfortable.
"O-Okay." I stammered, rubbing the spot on my head where he had hit me. "I'll go and look for this… flower."
"Good. Now, your payment." He reached out with his trembling, bony hand and motioned to my pocket. My eyes widened slightly out shock that he knew what I had in there, but after a second or so, I slowly took the golden trinket out and placed it into his hands. He held it up to the light, squinting and examining the locket very carefully before letting out another huff. He didn't say anything after that; he just turned and walked back into the shadows.
I took it as my cue to leave, exiting the shack with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Had I really just traded my mother's locket- a precious family heirloom- to a crumpled up old map that supposedly led to a mystical flower?
Yes.
Why?
I didn't have the slightest clue.
