It Was Just A Dream: Chapter 2
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own the Ronin Warriors.
The bright light of the sun radiated into Rowen's room through the cracks in the blinds, and his clock read 11:34 a.m., but he lay in his bed staring up at his ceiling.
Were his plastic stars different? He mused idly as he lay there, trying to let his mind come to terms with what he had dreamed the night before. No, he hadn't rearranged them… he hadn't thought of it last night… had he changed something in his room? Was the sunlight different? Was the very air he breathed different somehow? He felt that, in light of the revelations in his dreams, that they must be, that the world must be different. He couldn't explain this strange feeling, a mixture of disbelief and excitement and that somehow everything had changed.
Did he really believe his dream? He asked himself. Did he really believe what the Ancient had said? That he, somehow, was supposed to wear this magic armor that was hidden in his own history? That an ancient man had appeared in his dreams, knowing all about him, a man who had defeated demons and split their armors up and comforted him when he was sad. Someone who defended the realm of humans from that of demons. That there was a demon realm. That there were demons. Magic.
It was ludicrous! He thought to himself, abruptly sitting straight up in his bed. There was no way… no way… He had surely just imagined all of this. He'd heard the myth before, and something about his ancestors and an armor, and his mind had just jumbled it up with the plot of a fantasy movie.
Setting his feet on the floor, he put on his slippers and opened up the window for fresh air. He took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs and clear his mind. Standing here, with a slight breeze and sunlight on his face, it was easier to think. The sun exposed the truth and the breeze blew all pretenses away.
He gazed at the buildings and trees that were around his father's apartment complex before his gaze drifted to the blue sky above. Could he believe? Did he dare to? He wasn't sure he had the courage. If he believed and it turned out to be one wild creation of his imagination…if it turned out not to be true… where would that leave him? Alone, questioning his sanity… and, he had to admit to himself, saddened. It was every child's dream that they were different somehow, special, destined for great things, and a mark of growing up that they let go to those dreams and realized that they were special and unique as individuals, and that they had a chance or potential to do great things, but probably never would. And they would definitely never slay a dragon, save a princess… or battle demons and win.
He mused sadly, leaning against the windowsill, that he'd grown up a long time ago.
True, he had read the great fantasy epics and watched the science fiction ones, but he never really believed they were possible… he was too analytical for that. He was too proud of his reasoning and logic. And why would they be true? Someone had made them up, written them down—just as someone, a long time ago, came up with myths and legends. Someone told the first version where it was passed down through history.
But would it really hurt all that much if he just gave this a chance? Asked a small part of him. Would it really be that bad to look into it? To entertain the possibility—no, the possibility of a possibility— that it was true? Just to try?
And it had seemed so real…
He realized then that his decision had already been made, since the moment he woke up. That there was a larger part of him than he realized that wanted to believe—and needed to give to it a chance.
He'd try to find proof that the armor existed, however small a chance—and if he could find it, well…
It couldn't hurt to try. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. He had this week and part of the next off from school due to the break, and he had trouble making friends who weren't deceased authors, elderly men at chess clubs, or scientists at his father's work.
It couldn't hurt…
His mind made up to at least give it a try, he walked into the bathroom, now analyzing the story that the Ancient had told him again. Why did he want him to find the armors? Why specifically him? Was it because it was his ancestors on his father's side that were originally, according to the tale, given the armor? Or something else? He had mentioned chosen people… so why him?
And what was he supposed to do with such armor, anyway? He thought to himself as he brushed his teeth.
Wait… was he supposed to wear this armor? The very thought made him pause mid-brush. Him, wearing a samurai armor? The only reason he didn't laugh out loud was because the toothbrush was in his mouth. He finished brushing his teeth and rinsed out his mouth, and then couldn't stop the chuckle.
There was no way… it probably weighed over a hundred pounds, at least, Rowen mused as he thought of traditional samurai gear. True, he wasn't unfit; he believed that balance was best for both mind and body, and so he excercised a little… But samurai armor? And on that note…
Was he supposed to be battling demons? He stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, now this was getting way out of hand. But logically, if the man had told him about the armor, and wanted him to find it, he probably wanted him to use it. And one use for magic armor would be to fight demons in defense of others…
Him, battle against anything? In any other sense but academic challenge and ignorance? Now that was ridiculous.
Shaking his head at his own folly, he walked into the kitchen, pulled out a bowl, and poured himself some cereal. The clanking of his spoon against the side of the bowl reminded him of the sound of sword against steel that he had heard in the dream when the Ancient told of his battle against the demon lord. It was from that demon that he took an armor and split it into nine… hey, wait a second… if the armor came from demons, then what if it was evil armor?
That thought sent his brain wildly out of control. Did the figure in his dreams want him to wear evil armor? What if it possessed its wearer? What if it turned the wearer into demons themselves? And how much did Rowen know of the Ancient One other than what he had told him?
He felt doubt sink into his mind, and quickly rising was disgust with himself. How had he let himself fallen so far into speculation? He was a scientist—well, not yet, but someday he'd be an astrophysicist—and thinking about things like this was, well, rather unscientific. He was Hashiba Rowen, number 1 student in the Osaka district, and he wouldn't let his mind run away with him like that… even if he was seriously debating the existence of a magic armor.
He forced himself to reface the facts and examine his experience. Did he feel that the figure meant harm to him? The answer was an immediate no. In fact, he couldn't imagine the Ancient doing anything to harm him… he seemed so good, somehow… just like the ancient and wise guide that he had likened him to when he first saw him. He couldn't deny the feeling of trust.
Still, it didn't sit well with him to take anything merely on faith alone, and so he made a mental note to try and learn more about this Ancient One… if he could.
And the first stop on his list for research was the library of Osaka University, where his dad worked. He finished his cereal quickly, dressed, and was out the door to catch the subway.
Thanks everyone for reading! I hope you like it... this one's not very exciting or long, but in the next one things will start to pick up a bit, I guess. I've got the next part already written, but I'm sitting on it and reviewing it for a few more days, and then I'll get it out.
Please review! Pretty please? (See, the shameless begging already begins). Oh, and thanks to:
Hellfire13 for your review. My first one ever! And a really nice one! Reading your review gave me the energy to write the next two parts. And Rowen one of my favorites too (which is probably why this began with him, though fear not, other Ronin fans! You'll see them too... sooner or later. I plan on writing this for all five of them- it's such a great excerise in style.)
And thanks to Dranza the Phoenix Harpie for the fav!
I've imposed a five-day post-or-die restriction on myself, so I'll try to keep to that. Later!
