Act VIII: A Change Perhaps

     "Hey this store looks interesting," Ami says as they pass a store with nothing more than a
sign and a door.
     "That's strange," Miya comments. "Most stores have windows to advertise their
products."
     "Hmm, they probably just didn't have much money and took this cramped space and
made due with what they had," Munenori theorizes.
     "Perhaps..."
     They open the door and walk in. Aim in front starts wondering through the store that
looks aged beyond what years it could possibly have.
     "Hello!" Miya calls out seeing that no one is there.
     When no one comes, she and Munenori begin just looking through what the store has.
     "Look at these," Munenori tells Miya. "They look just like mine."
     Miya walks over and finds Munenori holding onto a pair of weapons that looks very
similar to his own.
     "Those there are hand crafted."
     The voice coming from behind Munenori and Miya startles them. An old man comes out
from somewhere behind the counter.
     "I was just saying they look a lot like something I have," Munenori tells the old man.
     "Hmm, there is a story behind those. Kind of old, too," the man informs.
     "And what might that be?" Miya asks.
     "A man made those," the man says. "A man possessed by a haunting memory."
     "Really?" Miya questions. "About what?"
     Munenori looks on unbelieving as the man tells the tale.
     "Before all this traveling into space was possible, a man was walking on a path around a
mountain near a city on Earth. He came across a family quarrel in which he saw a man kill his
brother with weapons similar to those you hold in your hand. That man became obsessed with
those weapons. He followed their possessor for a long time. He watched as the man slowly
spiraled into insanity, even despite his marriage to a beautiful woman and the birth of a son. He
looked on, as the man gradually decided to take his life. Finally, the man did. The one who had
followed hoped for a chance when he might get his hands on the weapons and their destructive
force. But the man's wife got a hold of them. She held them until a strange illness took her. As
she neared her death, the follower hoped his chance might come. On her deathbed, the woman
gave the weapons to her only child, the son. The follower figured he'd get them easily from the
child in the run down state of that city. But the child became entranced with mastering the
weapons. One night, the child was outside practicing, and the follower attempted to take the
weapons away. As if guided by some unknown spirit, the child injured the man. Giving up hope,
the man left the child. He then forged a pair of his own, but they lacked whatever special ability
the ones he had seen had."
     Munenori is breathing heavy. His eyes grow wide as he stares down at the weapons in his
hand. He falls to his knees, dropping the weapons, and grasping at his head. Miya kneels down
next to him.
     "Munenori! What is wrong!?"
     "Agh, the memories, so close..." he stammers.
     Ami joins them and after a short while Munenori begins to refocus, and he sits down,
back against the wall of shelves.
     "What was that all about?" Miya asks.
     "That story, it was so similar," Munenori answers.
     "How? In what way?"
     "I'm not sure what happened to my father, but I know what happened with my mother.
She was taken by a disease. And...on her deathbed...she handed my...you know."
     Miya leans back from her crouching position surprised, "You don't mean..."
     "And then, one night, when I was practicing with them, a man tried to steal them from
me. I know I hurt him gravely. Although I didn't think I had the strength then."     
     "Those weapons you were holding aren't worth much, but to have the real thing would
be quite the treasure," the shopkeeper says. "Would you happen to have them with you?"
     "Why should I tell you?" Munenori asks angrily as if the greedy man might try and take
them.
     "Well, you know, it's sometimes hard to find out about your past. Especially if you can't
find the critical person who could help you with it."
     "You! What do you know about my family!?" Munenori stands up and shouts angrily,
with Miya trying to hold him back.
     "Me? I don't know anything about YOUR family," the man says. "But perhaps I know
someone who does."
     "Who!?"
     "I can't quite remember," the man mocks. "Maybe if I could see one of yours it might jog
my memory."
     "Fine," Munenori says angrily as he tosses his coat aside and pulls out his weapons.
     The man's eyes flash open and he asks Munenori, "May I, touch it?"
     "Do you have your memory back?"
     "Oh yes, very much so."
     "Well, okay," Munenori says as he hands both over to the man.
     The man sets one on the table and holds the other in his hands. He pulls it up close to
face.
     "Such great craftsmanship," the man comments. "Such a fine edge," he says as he runs a
finger lightly down the blade and a cut opens.
     "Are you done yet?" Munenori asks impatiently.
     The man continues moving it around, eyeing it all over, when he stops and says,
"Something like this would make a nice addition to my shop."
     He stares at Munenori, "Would you happen to be willing to sell this to me?"
     "What!?" Munenori shouts. "No way!"
     The man steps back. He looks at Munenori, Miya, and Ami. He then jumps up on the
counter, grabs the weapon resting there in his free hand and announces, "Haha! Without your
weapons you are useless! I happen to know these are guided by spirits from the past. Now that I
have the spirits on my side, no one can beat me!"
     Munenori and Miya stare unfazed. Miya quickly slams the man in the leg and he falls
chest down on the counter. Munenori steps forward. The man swings wildly at him. Munenori
easily deflects the blow and places his grip firmly around the man's throat as with his free hand
he grabs and disarms his weapons.
     "I, I, I don't understand," the man stammers. "You all should be dead by now."
     "It doesn't work that way, old man," Munenori says. "The spirits are family members,
and they only work for our own flesh and blood."
     "What!?"
     "Besides, I'm not helpless without them. I hope this proves that to you."
     Munenori places his weapons back underneath his coat. The man who has hopped off the
counter stands before them.
     "Now, was this man you were talking about real?" Munenori asks.
     "Maybe," the man slyly answers.
     Munenori steps towards the man, who flinches in fear.
     "Maybe?" Munenori questions.
     "Well, does it matter?" the man asks. "You won't need the information where you're
headed."
     "Really?" Munenori questions him further. "And where is that?"
     "Hell!"
     The man jumps to the side, and in a matter of seconds he has thrown a little dart towards
Munenori. Before he knows what is going on, Miya's arm comes flying in front of him and the
dart goes straight into it.
     "AH!" she exclaims loudly in pain.
     "Miya!" Munenori shouts as she falls into his arms.
     "I'm okay," she says. "A little thing like this shouldn't hurt me. And yet, I feel too weak
to stand on my own."
     Munenori continues holding her there whilst the man laughs hysterically.
     "What's so funny old man?" Munenori asks. "You've hurt my friend."
     "I'm laughing because that dart was poisoned."
     "What!?" Munenori shouts. "You tell me the antidote right now!"
     "Only if you give me your weapons."
     "What!? No wa-" 
     Munenori stops speaking. He looks down at Miya, who has already passed out due to the
poison. He thinks to himself, What am I suppose to do? I can't just let her get hurt like this. She
risked herself to save me. That's a gesture I can't just dismiss.
     With a decisive tone Munenori speaks, "Alright, old man. You got me. I'll let you have
the weapons."
     Munenori tosses the weapons to the man and he picks them up while saying, "Even if
they don't work for me, they still look good. Maybe someone will take them off my hands later
on for a good price."
     "Okay, you have what you want now give me the antidote."
     "Antidote? Why should I give you the antidote?" the man questions.
     "Don't screw around with me," Munenori warns.
     "Oh, and you're gonna stop me?"
     The man turns to head for the door. Munenori moves to carefully set Miya down to chase
after, but the doorway is blocked.
     "Who are you?" the man asks. "Get out of the way!"
     "I'm not letting you treat my sister and Munenori-san that way!" Aim tells the old man.
     "You? Are you with these two?" the man questions.
     "Yes."
     The man stops for a brief moment to think, and he turns back in time to stop Munenori
from charging him.
     "Okay, fine, I have no reason not to so I'll tell you," the man says. "I can blame your
actions as teenaged belligerence, but this young child is another thing."
     "Fine, then tell us already," Munenori orders.
     "You're making that poison out to be worst than it is," the man says. "I don't have the
capability to go searching for the right parts of the mixture for a deadly poison. She'll be a little
sore and aching tomorrow when she regains full consciousness, but she'll be hurt more by the
dart wound overall."
     "That's it?" Munenori questions. "What about the man you were talking about?"
     "Oh, he does exist," the says. "Last I knew he was somewhere by that mountain,
meditating."
     "Thanks, I guess."
     "Hm, Good-bye," the man says as he pushes past Ami and leaves.
     "Munenori-san! You aren't just going to let him take your weapons are you?" Ami asks.
     "Doesn't matter," Munenori answers. "I'm safe enough as it is without them. And he
can't do any damage with them. He doesn't know how to use them and nor can he be guided to
use them."
     Munenori turns and stares at Miya who is half-conscious and he thinks to himself,
Besides, I may just want to start a new life where I don't need to be constantly killing. At least,
that's how she feels.
     Munenori walks over and picks Miya up in his arms.
     "Come on, Ami, let's get your sister home."
     "Okay Munenori-san!"
     The three leave the store and head back to where they were staying.