Beyond the Ice and the Fire A "Ronin Warriors" vignette
Persephone
Sai watched the play of the surf against the shore. The blue water eddied and swirled around the white sand, causing it to darken to a molasses brown as it changed to mud. The cry of gulls, shrill and triumphant as they hovered above the restless ocean, counterpointed the unsettled rumblings of the sea. And his own musings.
On the towel beside him lay a copy of Dylan Thomas' poetry, well thumbed through and at the moment, closed with a tasseled bookmark protruding from the top of it. Next to that was a portable stereo, volume turned low, but the sound of Loreena McKennitt's voice was still audible. He'd acquired a liking for the artist through spending time with Mia. In fact, it was one of Mia's CDs of McKennitt that he was borrowing.
He sighed. Worrying about mundane things, trivialities such as what CDs to play or what to read, was almost unknown to him these days. On this rare, quiet day, he had chosen to drive to the beach, fully intending to enjoy the fresh air and relax. And so far, he had done neither.
His mind went over and over the encounter with Talpa, searching for a way that things could have been different, something that he could have done differently. He suspected that it would be a long time before any of them forget or fully healed from the experience. Talpa had shown them their worst fears, their weaknesses, had exploited them and shaken all parties concerned. Even now, weeks afterward, the wounds he'd inflicted had yet to scab over.
The others were handling it in their own ways, of course. Ryo had begun spending more and more time with Mia and Yuli. Sai was more than a little surprised that Ryo actually seemed to welcome those nights when it was his turn to take Yuli out. After all, Yuli could be more than a handful at times. Something had happened during the crisis, something that had allowed Yuli and Ryo to bond. And Mia...
Well, watching Ryo and Mia was interesting, sometimes verging on entertaining, sometimes on exasperating. It was fairly obvious that they were attracted to each other. However, neither seemed to know exactly how to express that interest. Sai supposed it didn't help to have an audience of four, make that five counting Yuli, people watching your every move.
Kento, as always, had taken to cracking jokes and pretending as if nothing had happened. Sai knew that was just a front. His best friend had been badly shaken by Talpa's attempt to convince him that their armors were evil. Sai wasn't sure Kento fully trusted his armor yet. He wished he could do something to change that but was at a loss as to what he should do. He had attempted to talk with Kento about it and his efforts had been brusquely rejected. All he could do was wait until Kento decided he wanted to talk to someone.
Sage had begun an intensive training program. He spent hours practicing both his martial arts and swordplay. Sai often heard him hacking away at a training post in the early morning. He could already count the number of times on both hands he'd had to patch Sage up when he pushed himself just a little too hard. He supposed he should be glad that Sage hadn't retreated like Rowen had. Most days found Rowen either in his room with several books or in the dojo with Sage, still reading. His current subject seemed to be philosophy and when Sai had asked him about it, he had absently said something about wanting to become more disciplined. As if Rowen needed to be more driven, Sai shook his head.
As for himself, he'd stayed close to the water. His visits with the others had not given him much encouragement. Right now, the group was fractured, each trying to deal with what had happened in their own way, each needing to resolve their feelings in their own way without him having to force them to a conclusion. Besides, he didn't have a suitable conclusion to lead them to. Even he was uncertain-- unsure of himself, of long-held ideas and beliefs. He doubted that he'd resolve them easily or quickly. If ever.
He had never been particularly religious, never been one to attend church on a regular basis. That was not to say that he didn't believe in God or spirituality, more that he preferred to find his own faith. Faith in himself, in his friends, in the innate goodness of people. And in the knowledge that somehow things would always turn out right in the end. Well, things had turned out all right, but he found himself shaken deeply, leaving him to wonder if he had been wrong to dismiss things cavalierly. He was at a crossroads and guidance of some kind, of any kind would have been welcome.
While it was true that during his time as a Ronin Warrior, he'd had to reshaped some of his ideas, adjust them, but never had he had so many shattered. There had been times during the recent crisis when he had worried that this might be the one time the Ronins might not scrape through, that there might be something stronger than their combined hopes and dreams.
So he had come here, to the water that was as much as part of him as his right hand was.e rustling of the sea he found strangely comforting. There was a sense of permanence about the ocean. Seeing and listening to it, his mind seemed to hear more than that. It was as if the waves themselves were trying to speak, to whisper their secrets to him. How many nights had he slept out by the lake, alone with only the stars and the sound of the waves caressing the land for company? That was why he enjoyed poets like Dylan Thomas, poets who loved nature in all its forms, who found something spiritual in it. The devil might be in the details, but so was something else. Whatever you called it, there was a force that permeated everything, both binding and at one with it. All were equally light and dark, most living in gray, striving for a balance between the two.
Maybe that was what it was all about, he mused. Just trying to find and maintain a balance. There was no certainty in life. Good people suffered and good people died while evil flourished. Sometimes for a reason and sometimes for none at all. You couldn't give up just because life got tough or because you learned things you didn't like. To give up was death. Maybe not an irrevocable death, but a little death all the same. And he wasn't ready to give up yet. It hurt, yes. He wanted nothing so much as to never face a threat like Talpa again. Sai felt he could live happily for the rest of his life if he were never called to arms again. That didn't mean he was going to sit back when he was needed. People depended on him. His friends depended on him. And he could be strong for them. He had never been good at being strong for himself, but he could be strong for others.
Illusions could be shattered. Dreams could fall away and be replaced by nightmares, but hope remained. It flickered even now, just waiting to be strengthened within him. He could feel it warming him inside and he lifted his face to the rays of the early morning sun.
