Chapter 33: A New Day

Steam coiled like white snakes around Riven's ankles as she stepped out of the bath. A fluffy white towel was wrapped tightly around her chest, and her hair was wild from just having been dried. Suddenly she stopped, and she leaned her head to one side with a frown on her face. It took her several slaps on the side of the head, but eventually she got the water out of her ear. With a small triumphant smile, she straightened once more, looking at her bed. She had already laid out her clothes out before getting into the bath and the towel around her fell to the floor as she pulled them on.

Soon, she was standing before the mirror of the bathroom, eying the clean white t-shirt and dark pants she wore. She stood before the mirror, looking at herself for a long while before she walked over to her bed again. A roll of bandages lay on it, and slowly, she wrapped them around her arms. She winced slightly as her arms stung at the touch, but it was not as bad as before; ever since she had returned from Ionia, her arms had not pained her as much. She did not know why, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Maybe I finally found some peace, she thought to herself with a cynical smile. Her thoughts strayed to Julius for a moment, but she forced him away from her mind with a shake of her head. No… it definitely wasn't because of him.

Once she was done with the bandages, she tied her hair back in the same style she always wore. Riven placed her hands on her hips as she stared down the woman who looked back at her from the mirror. There was another small frown on her face as she looked intently into her reflected crimson eyes.

It had nearly been a week since her return from Ionia, and she had yet to be called in for another Judgment. A pit of worry had grown in her stomach, but she was certain it was only a matter of time. At least, that is what she told herself. She did not want to admit it to herself, but she knew that Kolminye would have valid reason for not wanting her to return to the League; with her panic attacks, she could easily put herself or someone else in danger. But she did not want to abandon the League; she had friends here now, and without it, she would have no choice but to return to wandering Valoran in search of answers or penance. They were not pleasant thoughts to think, nor a pleasant prospect to consider.

"No use worrying about it," she said aloud as she strode briskly over to her windows and opened them. She inhaled the brisk morning air, letting the warmth of the sun wash over her and help to rid her of her worries. She let out her breath with a long sigh. It was going to be a good day today: the sun was shining – neither too hot nor too cold – the birds were singing in the trees, and she could hear the reassuring bustle of the Institute below her. A new day awaited her.

But she had nothing to do.

Without League matches to take up her time, Riven had spent much of the past week simply wandering around the grounds of the Institute. It had been nice to get away from the stress of the League for a little bit, but now she found herself unimaginably bored. It simply was not the same to practice by herself in one of the many training arenas of the Institute than it was to fight in the League. She knew it was a selfish reason, but she needed something to keep her mind off of her past.

For inevitably, her thoughts would wander, and she would find herself thinking of things she did not want to think about. The voices and visions would come again, and she would grow cold and shiver uncontrollably. There was no stopping them.

Goosebumps prickled across her flesh and she rubbed her arms gingerly, suddenly cold. It was as though the sun had suddenly vanished behind clouds, although there were none; she felt a chill run up her body at the thoughts that invaded her mind, and she closed her eyes against them. Already, she could hear the whispers in the back of their head, and they prickled at her mind like smoke.

"No," she growled, her teeth clenching as she fought against the visions and chills. "Not today. Not today."

The windows closed with a slam as Riven walked back into her apartment.

Some minutes later, Riven was walking out the doors of the Institute, hands in her pockets and looking pointedly at the ground. She could hear the buzz of conversation around her as she walked out the immediate proximity of the Institute and into the small village that lay around it. The village was almost completely comprised of stalls and small stores that hoped to sell their wares under the shadow of the Institute of War. Without even looking up, Riven knew that they sold dyes and foods and clothing and everything in between. It was a good place for business; champions, summoners and visitors alike were congregated here all the time, and a good salesman could make a fortune in a day.

Slowly, her pace slowed, and she raised her head. All around her, people were walking, milling in and out of the numerous stores that surrounded her. They were people of all shapes and sizes, from a massive Demacian soldier still clad in his shining armor to a young Piltoverian couple sipping from the same glass. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what could only be a Zaunite scientist chatting easily with a man dressed in Ionian robes. It was truly remarkable.

Every day, Riven still found herself amazed by the League and what it had done; here, Noxians and Demacians could shop at the same store without killing each other on sight. Zaunites and Ionians could sit at the same restaurant without giving each other hateful glares. Bilgewater pirates and Piltover policewomen could drink at the same bar without a brawl breaking out immediately. If that was possible, then maybe a lost Noxian soldier could find herself as well.

A voice roused her from her musings, and she looked up as it called out.

"You there!"

Riven looked around her, but she did not find the source of the voice.

It was probably just a random salesperson, she thought to herself as she saw no one suspicious in sight. What she did see, however, was a small, interesting looking shop that was hidden away between two larger shops. It was somewhat dim, and few – if anybody – seemed to register that it was there at all. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she walked over to it.

A small bell jingled as she entered and she closed the door behind her. The hubbub of the street behind her cut off as she did, and suddenly it was very quiet. Riven looked uneasily around at the store, but it seemed empty.

It was narrow, little wider than an alleyway, and lined with towering shelves. On each shelf, there were countless objects: paintings done in all styles on all mediums, carvings hewn from stone and wood alike, delicately made instruments she had never seen before, stones and jewels polished to a mirror-like brilliance. Riven walked slowly down the singular path, stopping every so often to admire the works of art around her.

What is this place? She thought to herself as she considered an incredibly detailed wooden dragon. It was colored in deep greens, and she could see the fire reflected in its red eyes. Riven tugged at the strings of a mysterious instrument and smiled slightly as a delicate ringing echoed in the empty store. Ahead of her, she could see an open doorway, over which was pulled a thin red cloth. It was marked in a very familiar design, but for the life of her, she could not remember where she had seen it.

She made her way over to the doorway, stopping before it. Briefly, she considered what she about to do. Would it be polite to enter uninvited? Before she could convince herself otherwise, she stepped under the shroud, ducking her head slightly.

As she did, she found herself in the back room of the store, which was slightly larger – although not by much. A man sat at a bench with his back to her, hands working on some project that she could not see. All around him, materials were scattered on the floor and the bench alike – large blocks of wood or stone, stones that had not yet been polished. The sound of scraping wood was audible in the small room, and Riven knew that he must be working on a carving of some sort. She started as he spoke suddenly, and his voice was low and measured.

"Strange how we find ourselves in the places we least expect," he said, holding the carving up as if to inspect it; Riven saw that it was a small wooden horse. "We can make all the plans we want, we can rage and gnash our teeth against the storm, but ultimately, we will walk the paths we are meant to take. We may not want them, and we may hate ourselves for walking them, but it will happen nonetheless." He chuckled, and his shoulders shook slightly. "Perhaps we should stop trying to resist and embrace it instead. For what will come will come, and when it does, we may find that it is not as bad as we expected it to be."

"Life is not always how we expect it; it is as changing and as inconstant as the wind. But that is the beauty of it: life will come how it so chooses, and there is nothing we can do about it." He paused, as if considering his own words. "And that is neither here nor there, neither good nor bad. Life can be painful, and life can be wonderful. There cannot be one without the other, just as there cannot be life without shadow. But that does not mean that either is above the other. Pain and happiness complement each other like fire does the wind. How can a sad man ever know he is sad without ever having been happy? How can a happy man know true happiness without ever suffering? They cannot. " He lifted the horse again, holding it lightly between two fingers. "And that… is balance."

There was a moment of silence between them in which Riven could only stare. Then the man spoke again, this time with a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Well, are you going to introduce yourself?" he asked as he turned. "Or are you going to let an old man think he's been rambling to himself all this time?"

Riven opened to speak, but her words died in her throat as she saw his face. He was old, with a modest white beard that fell past his chin, and with a face that was lined like aged parchment. Grey hair was cut close to his scalp in a style like that many Noxian soldiers wore, but it was obvious that this man was no Noxian. He had the thin face and narrow eyes that were indicative of Ionian blood – and it was his eyes that stopped her; they were a milky white and clouded, open and unblinking as they roamed restlessly around the room. He was blind.

"I-," she stammered, clearing her throat. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-,"

"Shouldn't have what?" he chided with a dismissive wave. "What's the matter? Never seen a blind man before?" His face scrunched. "Though I wouldn't say blind; I can still see a little bit. The young lady standing before me in the doorway, for instance."

"No," she said, as an image of Lee Sin came to her mind, "but I realize now how rude it was to enter here uninvited."

The old man scoffed. "'Uninvited'? If men and women waited until they were invited to go somewhere, the world would be a much smaller place indeed. Would anyone ever have discovered the far lands of Valoran? Would those fine people in Piltover have pushed the very boundaries of human potential? No, there is no harm in coming in here. Not many do, and this old man enjoys whatever company he gets." He smiled warmly. "My name is Jiro in case you were curious."

He spun around to face the bench once more, motioning with a hand over his shoulder at a chair that was propped up near the door.

"Please, sit. It's not often that a Noxian soldier comes into my humble shop."

Riven could only stare, dumbstruck. "How did you know?" she asked, stupefied, when she had found her voice again.

"Only a soldier walks like that," he said without turning around. "And you have the traces of a Noxian accent. Small, but there nonetheless. You have been travelling, haven't you? It's made it so you've almost lost your accent."

Riven sat down, smiling in awestruck wonder at the blind man. "It's all true. That's amazing."

"You flatter me, miss…?" he let his voice trail off.

"Riven."

The old man froze, and Riven could see the small woodcarving tool pause in midair.

"Indeed?" he said as his tools began to move once more. "I know that name… Lee Sin speaks very fondly of you, Miss Riven. I shall have to consider myself even more honored to have a Champion of the League keep me company."

Riven blinked. "You know Lee?"

"I should hope so; he was my student for a number of years," he said, gesturing at the shop around them, "He also provides me with this humble shop. In return, I sell my wares here."

The marking on the curtain came to her again, and she realized it was the very same one that Lee wore on his headband. Riven looked behind her through the curtain. "You made all of these?"

Jiro nodded. "Every single one," he said, with only a hint of justified pride.

"That's amazing," she muttered under her breath. The range of ornaments and art was astounding, made even more so given the fact that Jiro was partly blind.

"A way to pass the time for this old man," he said, returning to his carving. "Wood, stone, clay, canvas, no matter." He stopped again as though he was struck by a sudden idea. Turning quickly, he tossed the wooden horse at Riven, who only just caught it in time before it fell.

"There you go," he said with a smile. "It's yours."

Riven looked down at the small wooden horse before looking back up at Jiro. "I can't," she began, already extending her hand to give it back, "I couldn't."

"By all means, keep it. It's yours." He sighed somewhat sadly. "Because what good is art if not to be shared? People come in here sometimes, yet they never want anything. They tell me that it would not be right to take such art for themselves. But my shelves grew heavy and I grow sad because of it. I make all of these for people to have, yet no one takes them. I don't want payment for them. I could care less about money. I just want to see people happy." A wry smile crossed his lips and he tapped his temple with a slender finger. "Or, I should say, I just want to know people are happy."

Riven ran a hand over the smooth wood of the statue. She was at a loss for words.

"Thank you," she said finally, and Jiro gave a small bow where he sat.

"It was my pleasure," he said as he turned back to the bench once more. This time, Riven knew it was her time to leave. He did not give any indication that she should do so, and she knew he would never do that. But she felt as though she should, and she knew he would not mind if she did. She turned to go, but Jiro's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Next time you come by," he said without looking back, "I might just have something special for you. Don't forget, eh?"

Riven smiled, holding the small wooden horse tightly in her hand. "I won't. I promise."

Riven still held the horse tightly in her hand as she made her way back to her apartment. She ran her hand along the spine of the smooth wood. It was comforting on her fingertips and the weight of the wood was soothing in her hand.

She walked through the doors of the Institute and towards the wing to where she knew her housing was. She passed many champions along the way, and she returned many of the friendly smiles that the other champions gave her.

She only just ducked in time to narrowly avoid colliding with Jax's lamppost as he swung it in a wide circle over his head, and leapt nimbly over Thresh's swinging sickle as the Chain Warden swung it at her with an almost good-natured cackle. Almost. She passed Ashe and Tryndamere walking together down the hall, their shoulders nearly touching and their voices low, and saw Garen looking forlornly at the back of Katarina's head as Riven peeked her head into the cafeteria. She pressed her back to the wall of a corridor as Nautilus lumbered slowly by, his massive form taking up almost the entire hallway and leaving a faint trace of ocean spray in the air behind him. The ever-energetic Fizz leapt after his friend, laughing as he vaulted over the Titan's shoulder. She returned the friendly wave Karma gave her, and mirrored the cold glare that Varus shot at her as they passed each other. Her footsteps grew quiet as she passed the room where she knew Fiddlesticks was held, and she laughed lightly as Annie ran squealing in front of her, Tibbers flopping loosely at her side. The pint sized pyro-maniacal mage was followed shortly by a laughing Nunu and a giggling Lulu, evidently caught in a game of tag. She returned Zac's high-five somewhat hesitantly, though she had to smile as the Zaunite hero gave a whoop of triumph at his apparent success. She hid her face from Swain's piercing gaze as she passed the Master Tactician, and had to suppress a shiver of disquiet as the Master of Shadows himself stalked past her without a sound. The massive form of Zed seemed to cast a darker shadow over the ground before him, and the dark ninja moved soundlessly down the hall. Graves gave her a grunt of recognition, holstering his massive shotgun on his shoulder even as Sivir walked beside him, her boomerang tucked securely away on her belt. Riven watched the two outlaws walk away, and overheard them as they talked of past bounties. She even thought she saw Jayce and Vi engaged in heated conversation in a corner of a darkened lounge room, but she could not be sure. She scowled as Syndra floated slowly past her, a haughty expression on the face of the Dark Sovereign, and Riven inclined her head slightly in respect as she came upon the 3 ninjas of the Kinkou Order sitting around an empty table. She could feel their piercing eyes follow her back as she left, and she was somewhat glad to be out of their sight.

Finally, however, she came to her door. To her surprise, there was a note tucked into the doorframe. She looked around, but there was no one in sight. She plucked it out of the doorframe, leaning against the wall beside her door as she unfolded the note and began to read. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she read the date for her next Judgment.