Fan Fiction ❯ Something to Protect ❯ Something to Protect ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Wild Arms does not belong to me in any shape, form, or fashion. Except the game itself. That is all.

 

A/N: Wow, I'm branching out from Trigun! Well, this was something I wrote in 8th grade (i.e., a LONG time ago) before I even knew what fanfiction was. I edited and revised it so hopefully it's passable. Anyways, read and enjoy!

 

 

Something to Protect

 

The old man was shuffling by his favorite hill when he saw his grandchild. Wondering what he was doing, the old man made his way over to him. The short, blue-haired and eyed boy scooted over to make room for the old man. As he sat down, the old man observed his grandson carefully, especially his facial expression. The boy was watching the sunset, the sky a golden-red hue. The child seemed introspective about something, and the old man wondered what he was thinking about. However, the boy rarely spoke so it was difficult to know what was going on behind those serene features.

I guess I know why. “Why are you sitting here all by yourself?” the old man asked.

His grandson looked up at him with bright eyes. Yet, there was a pinkish tinge to them that indicated he had been crying. The boy told the old man about his day in the village, how he had lifted a crate that no one else could lift and how he had been called “different.” Looking puzzled, he asked the old man why he was different.

The old man looked down, lost in thought. Then, he said, “I see. So you are old enough to think about such things.”

The boy looked at him, eyes questioning. The old man smiled.

“Listen to me, for this is very important. When people say `different,' they say it like it's something bad.. It isn't. However, you are not, as they say, `different.'”

The boy looked at the old man hopefully. He smiled.

“No, you have been given `power.' The ability to do great things. That is not something to be taken lightly. With this `power,' you will be able to protect that which is precious to you. It's the key to the future, your future, and the futures of others. It is your responsibility to use you `power' to help others. Do you see?”

The boy stared off at the horizon, lost in thought. When he looked back, his eyes were sparkling with happiness. He smiled and nodded his understanding.. The old man smiled back.

“Well, I'm glad to see that you've cheered up,” the old man said lightly. “Now, let's go home.”

As the old man used his cane to help him stand, he grunted a bit. He wasn't as young as he used to be. However, with his grandson's help, the old man rose to his feet, stretching slightly, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. As the two began the walk home, the boy took one last look at the sunset. The old man watched, waiting. It occurred the him that the boy seemed to draw his silent strength from this spot.

I wonder...

A few moments later, the boy turned away from the golden sunset and walked away. As the two walked together, the old man wondered whether he had done the right thing by raising the boy. The child had no parents, this the old man knew for certain. Yet, that wasn't what bothered him. His adopted grandson always seeemd so introspective and distant, maybe even secretive. While this attitude concerned the old man, he was also curious about it. The boy had always been this way. He seemed to instinctively know that he was different, even though he didn't know why. This bothered the child, yet he didn't act upon his uncertainty. And of course, the old man had watched the boy very closely, just in case...

The old man's thoughts were cut short as he realized they were home. It was a simple place, only having three rooms: the kitchen, the bedroom, and the old mean's study, the largest room of them all. It held all of the old man's research and ancient artifacts that he had collected over his years as a Dream Chaser, a person who ventured into the wasteland of Filgaia to explore its ruins and uncover relics and treasures from another age.

The old man was also an ARMS Meister, or an expert on ARMS, weaponry that must synchronize with its user and were born from lost technology. He had his own ARM, the Hand Cannon, but he was now too old to use it properly.

At this, the old man gave pause. He looked down at his adopted grandson and wondered if the boy would be able to master the Hand Cannon. This was a consideration because the ARM had been excavated not far from where the old man had found the boy.

The two entered their small home. Both noticed, as they always did, how green and alive the forest surrounding their home was. The house itself was tidy and spotless because of both their efforts. The kitchen, though rather small, had enough space to hold a table and four chairs (although they seldom had visitors), a place to wash, and a cubby for food storage. All the dishes were kept in a small wooden cupboard near the washing area. The kitchen had a wooden floor, worn and dull from age, yet clean.

As they continued through the house, they walked by the bedroom. It also had a wooden floor with two beds, side by side. In the corner of the room, there was a rocking chair near the window for the old man. Both he and the boy had spent many a night there as the old man had shared some stories from when he was a Dream Chaser. Also, there was a small closet where both kept their clothing and few treasured possessions.

Finally, as they entered the study, the old man marvelled, as he always did, at the sheer number of books and documents he had collected on his travels. He had records that dated back to the time of the Elws, ancient beings who combined technology with magic, the Guardians, spirits that drew strength from the elements and in turn gave back life to the world, the Metallic Demons, creatures of living metal instead of living flesh, and the war among the three. He also had books that described lost technologies far beyond those currently in use. He himself had in fact researched those technologies so thoroughly that he had written a book on them called the Metal Bird. It was said that, long ago, humans had possessed the power of flight and had actually been able to live in outer space.

Yes, the old man thought darkly. He knew of his race's folly in thinking they could control an interdimensional gateway. He knew of the space colony called the New Moon Malduke's sad fate. Though once inhabitted by men in ancient times, it had now been abandoned and overrun by powerful monsters while the gateway, the giant tower of Ka Dingel, had been sealed away by the Guardians. The ancient space colony Malduke, it was said, also possessed a weapon of such power that it could have destroyed the entire planet. It would have been better if Malduke and Ka Dingel had never been built.

This gave the old man pause. He looked down at the boy beside him, introspective as always.

I wonder if he knows that I am keeping things from him?

The old man again wondered if he had done the right thing by raising the boy. This dilemma was always lingering in the back of his mind. True the boy was always introspective and quiet. There was nothing wrong with that. Plus, the boy had an innocent respect and sense of wonder for all living things. The child loved them and wouldn't hesitate to protect them, as he had shown on numerous occasions, no matter how small the creature.

At that, the old man realized that he had done the right thing. His adopted grandson would grow up to be great. He would be able to protect that which was impportant to him and to help people. The old man decided then and there that he would help the boy to become stronger. He would teach him how to wield a sword and the Hand Cannon.

The boy would become a Dream Chaser.

The old man looked down at the boy, and the boy met his gaze. At that moment, something passed between them silently, a mutual and profound understanding. They smiled.

“My boy,” the old man said, “let's go to bed early. We'll need our rest. I have much to teach you.”

 

Several years pass...

 

Here I am again.

The old man's grandson was standing on the hill that had been the old man's favorite, watching the sun set as he had all those years ago on the day his grandfather had agreed to teach him the ways of a Dream Chaser.

However, unlike that day, he was no longer a child. He was a man. He was tall, almost six feet. His blue hair was short and unruly but held back by a red bandana. He wore a shirt, vest, and a pair of jeans, as well as some leather gloves that allowed his fingers to poke through. He was wirey, yet muscular and fit with his sword and ARM tied to his belt. His face, usually marked with a smile, was now solemn. A few tears managed to escape out of the corners of his eyes.

He was standing in front of a grave. Hanging around the cross was a small triangular metallic shard. A single teardrop clung to it, then fell to the gound.

He stared at the shard for a moment before turning his gaze back towards the sun. How long he stood there, he didn't know. Then, his eyes found the small headstone beneath the cross with words that he had carved there himself.

It read: Here lies Zepet Roughnight. Beloved Grandfather and Friend. RIP.

Just reading those words made him remember all those years of training that he had gone through. Zepet had taught him how to hold and wield a sword, as well as to use the Hand Cannon. However, the old man had had very little to teach him about the Hand Cannon because he was such a natural with the ARM. It synchronized completely with him. Oddly enough, Zepet had not seemed to surprised by this, but he still encouraged him, which was enough.

The training had been difficult, but he had finally become a Dream Chaser. But...

Just a day or so ago, the old man had passed away, silently, in his sleep. Sure, he had been old and sick the last few weeks of his life and he had known the old man was fading, but it still hurt. He had buried Zepet on the hill that had been the old man's favorite, as well as his own.

Now, watching the sun set behind the horizon, he thought, I wish that I could have stayed with you forever. I wish I didn't have power. I wish it wasn't my responsibility to go out into Filgaia and try to slow and halt the deteroriation of the land and its people.

Then, as he was thinking this, something the old man had once said echoed within his mind and heart: :So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.”

As the old man's voice faded into memory, he made his decision. He wiped his eyes roughly and started walking, his face set in stone. Where he was going, he didn't know. All he knew was that wherever he might be going, he would remember what he had been taught. He would never forget that it was his responsibility to protect that which was important to him.

With his back to the sun, which had disappeared beyond the horizon, Rudy Roughnight walked into the trees and faded away into them without looking back. The home he remembered so fondly was in the past, and he knew he would probably never return. The old man's grave would be a lone testement that anyone had ever lived there. There was no future ahead of him. He would make his own future.

For that is what it meant to be a Dream Chaser...

 

 

So, how'd I do? Was it good? Bad? So-so?