Humayre: The Chronicles of Ronin Wilder

“Wake up.”

“Ronin.”

A pushing and pulling startled Ronin awake. He sat forward, sweat dripped down his cheeks. His hair was soaking wet. Kevin was standing right over him with a concerned look on his face. The dream faded. All he remembered of it was attacking Mrs. Kinney and the look on her face. Taking a deep breath he tried to center himself.

“You okay?” asked Kevin. “You were screaming out.”

Gus lay in the bed just to the right of Ronin’s. He shook his head and stuffed his face into his pillow.

“Yeah,” said Ronin. “Just a nightmare.” He wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

“Must’ve been a bad one. You sounded like someone was trying to kill you.”

“Yeah,” said Ronin sarcastically. “More like I was trying to kill someone.”

Kevin gave him a funny look. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.” He wanted to tell Kevin about his meeting with Raven the day before, but he was so entrenched in secrets he didn’t even know where to start.

“Alright.” Kevin jumped back into bed and wrapped his thick blanket around him.

Wide awake and afraid to go back to sleep, Ronin glanced at the sand clock. It read six forty five. The sun peaked through the drape and cast a line of light across the stone floor. The fire had burnt out, which was why it was so cold in the room. It was Gus’s turn to feed it wood but he obviously had forgotten. He seemed to do that whenever it was his turn.

Two hours and fifteen minutes to kill until the teams finals. Grace’s team versus Kevin’s. The winner moved on to the quad school championship. It was being held at CreeWood that year. Ronin had planned to go, but the meeting with Raven had changed things. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything other than find out the truth. He wondered when Raven would try to contact him again. He wondered if he would be able to resist the temptation. Maybe if he helped Raven just a little, something insignificant, something that wouldn’t hurt anyone, maybe then he would tell him more.

A rumbling sounded from Ronin’s stomach. The excitement of the previous day had crushed his appetite the night before. Now his stomach was yelling at him. Breakfast started at seven. It was a weekend and normally he would have preferred to sleep in but there would be no going back to sleep, his mind and stomach tormented him.

The wooden double doors opened. Ronin was the first in. The smell of pancakes and sausage hit him like a truck, forcing his mouth to water. The Great Hall was warm and inviting. All four fireplaces blazed. A few more students came in behind him and took their seats. Ronin followed suit. As he waited for his pancakes he once again wondered when Raven would come to him. Guilt grabbed ahold of him as he thought about Grace. What would she say if she found out that he talked to Raven? Feeling torn between two worlds Ronin focused on his stomach.

A heaping plate of pancakes and sausage was set down in front of Ronin. The butter was next, followed by amber colored syrup. A sense of peace came over him as he dug in. Maybe he didn’t need answers. Maybe all he needed was his friends and Mrs. Kinney. It was hard for him to trust. Hard for him to believe that he couldn’t do it all on his own. After all, it was all he had known for the past six years.

The plate lay empty, except a few stray bits of pancake and a small puddle of syrup. Leaning back in his chair Ronin exhaled. Things seemed clearer for him. He wasn’t going to worry about Raven. That situation would play itself out and when the time came he felt confident he would make the right choice, whatever it was to be. The most important thing was The Tournament. He needed to get to the fourth round or he would be expelled. The thought of life without his new friends was terrifying. Kevin had been right. They were his family now.

The Great Hall filled up quickly. The clamoring of students echoed through the tall stone walls. Ronin loved the sounds. It was one of his favorite things about the school. Kevin and Mike came in together. Ronin didn’t see them enter but knew they were there. Kevin took his seat next to Ronin’s.

“Real nice,” said Kevin. “I see you started without me.” He stared at Ronin’s stomach and playfully smacked it. “By the looks of your belly you didn’t leave any for the rest of us.”

Ronin laughed.

Mike grabbed Ronin by the shoulders and pulled him backwards. The front legs of his chair lifted off the ground. “Bro. You were supposed to meet us in Memorial Hall.” He chuckled to himself. “Now I’m gonna have to let you drop on your head.”

Ronin grabbed the armrests as his chair tilted backwards. He laughed and said, “If you do, I swear ill cut a hole in the back of your pants when you least expect it. You’ll walk around all day with your butt showing.”

Kevin burst into laughter.

“Bro. You’d really do that?”

“Oh yeah,” said Ronin. He held his hand up and extended his index finger claw. “You see how sharp that thing is. You won’t even know I did it.”

“That’s cold, bro,” said Mike, with a grin. He lowered the chair. “That’s okay. I see how it is. Pick on the big guy with the extra-large pants.”

“Those aren’t extra-large,” said Kevin. “Those things are what we call double large.” He flashed Ronin a sinister grin.

“Double large?” asked Mike.

“Yeah,” said Kevin. “When they made your pants they took two extra larges and sewed them together.”

Ronin and Kevin burst into laughter.

“Kick a guy while he’s down. I see how it is.” Mike walked to the front of the table so both Kevin and Ronin could see him. “I just figured it out. You’re still mad that I conked you on the coconut in our teams duel last night.”

Ronin and Mike laughed as they watched Kevin turn red.

“Bro. You went out like a light.”

Kevin folded his arms and glared at Mike. “Real funny. But who won the match. My team. That’s who. So when you’re watching me in the finals today from the sidelines, you can laugh all you want.”

“Bro. Grace is gonna whup up on your whole team. So yeah. I will be laughing.”

“Woah,” said Grace. She lightly touched Ronin and Kevin’s shoulders as she smiled at Mike. “What did I just walk in on?”

The Colosseum bristled with energy. Ronin and Mike sat together just above Pine’s team bench. In the center of the arena was Grace. She was tightening the straps on her bamboo armor. Her helmet and bokken lay on the ground in front of her. The etched circle in the center of the marble floor was littered with little pieces of Bamboo. The remnants of the previous fights.

“Why don’t they clean away the broken bamboo pieces?” asked Ronin. “Seems like someone could slip or something.”

“Part of the rules, bro. Makes it more of a challenge I guess.”

“I still don’t get all the rules.” Ronin watched Grace put her helmet on.

“It’s simple,” said Mike. “Takes three points to win. You get one point if you crack a piece of body armor and three points if you crack the helmet. Whoever gets three point’s first wins. Oh yeah. You can also win if your opponent quits for whatever reason.”

“Yeah. I already knew all that,” said Ronin. “I meant the armor. How do they know someone doesn’t have specially made armor or something. Or better made armor. It seems like it would be unfair if someone had better armor than their opponent.”

“You can only get armor from an official store. And it can only be repaired there. After a repair you get a sticker that qualifies you for competition. Without the sticker on your armor you can’t fight.” Mike twisted left, a huge crack sounded from his back.

“Ahh,” said Ronin. “I see.”

“Wait a second,” said Mike. “Why don’t you already know this?” He raised his eyebrow and shook his head. “Bro. You should have already gotten your armor for The Tournament. Now you’re gonna have to rush it. Bro… it’s gonna cost you twice as much now.”

“Oops.” Ronin’s face flushed.

“Yeah. Oops is right. And knowing you, the Bank of Mike is going to have to loan you some credits again.” He leaned back and exhaled. “You’re killing me man.”

A slender boy with brown curly hair strolled into the arena. He faced Grace and adjusted the straps on his black bamboo armor.

“Who’s that?” asked Ronin, trying to change the subject.

“Ezra John. Best student dueler in the school. He’s a fourth year offensive spec. A Dar Form Two practitioner.”

“Dar Form Two?” asked Ronin. He watched as Grace adjusted the straps on her helmet. Ronin especially liked the helmets. They looked similar to traditional samurai helmets but instead of having an open face a solid bamboo guard protected the mouth and nose. It looked like the combination between a samurai helmet and an English knight’s helmet.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Not many study that form. It’s almost like fencing. Lots of quick jabs and thrusts.” He nudged Ronin and nodded towards Grace. “I think Pine’s coach messed up. They put their best dueler against Grace. They underestimated her.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ronin. “Wouldn’t that mean they respect her if they put their best dueler on her?”

“No. They think it’s an easy win. After this fight, if Ezra wins the match, it will be tied two to two. Kevin has the last match and will be going against Maple’s number five guy for the win.” He shrugged. “Pine basically gave up the lead because they assumed the last two matches would be easy wins.”

“I see,” said Ronin. He glanced around the Colosseum. The marble benches were filled from top to bottom with cheering students and staff.

“Bro.” Mike nudged Ronin. “It’s starting.” He stood up and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Go Grace! Go Maple!”

Grace and Ezra made their way into the etched circle. Ten feet separated them.

“When you’re ready!” shouted Mr. Wetstone. He was sitting in an elevated chair on the arena floor in between the two team benches.

Grace and Ezra approached each other. Grace held out her hand. Ezra pressed his helmet to hers. A long pause. It was obvious Ezra was saying something to her. Grace abruptly stepped back. The bitter smell of rage exploded into the air. Whatever Ezra said really made Grace angry.

Ezra bowed. Grace returned the gesture. Ezra grabbed his bokken with two hands and held it perpendicular to the floor with the point aimed in Grace’s direction. He shuffled forward making sure his back foot never passed his lead foot. Grace reversed her grip, the tip of her bokken was aimed down. She moved her sword to her right side, the point shifted back and pointed directly behind her. Cautiously she approached Ezra.

Ezra thrust his sword forward. Grace spun and deflected his strike into the air. She spun once more and ended up on Ezra’s unguarded weak side. She whipped her bokken around into a standard grip while at the same time coming down with a vicious cross body overhead strike. The blade of her wooden sword came down across the top of Ezra’s head. The crunch that sounded out startled the spectators into silence.

Ezra’s helmet cracked in two and fell to the floor. Ezra dropped to his knees. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. A thump sounded as his face smacked marble.

Grace tore off her helmet and dropped to her knees. “Someone help!” she shouted, as she put her hands on Ezra’s chest. She leaned over and pressed her ear to his mouth. “He’s breathing!” she yelled.

A man in a white lab coat holding a large black duffle bag ran to the center of the arena. He dropped to his knees right at the base of Ezra’s outstretched body. He pulled a small vial out of his bag and uncorked it. He held the vial under Ezra’s nose. The unconscious boy jerked his head left, then right, while defensively waving his hands in front of him. Next his eyes opened. He sat forward. In the silence Ronin could hear him ask what had happened.

The arena started to clap. It was quickly followed by the chanting of Grace’s name. Ezra hobbled to his team’s bench with the assistance of the man in the white lab coat. Ezra raised his hand to the crowd as he took a seat next to his teammates.

Grace remained in the center of the arena. The cheers and chants increased in volume.

Mike threw his hands in the air and began to chant, “Grace! Grace! Grace!” He looked down to the sitting Ronin and motioned for him to stand.

Ronin stood up and joined him in the cheers.

Mr. Wetstone stepped down from his seat and made his way to Grace. He grabbed her right arm and held it into the air. Maple’s team jumped off the bench and stormed towards Grace. Four boys just about tackled Grace as they surrounded her.

Mr. Wetstone stepped away from the small mob and held his hands in the air. He motioned for everyone to quiet down. After waiting a moment for the cheers to subside, he said, “The school championship goes to Maple.”

The arena erupted into cheers. Kids were jumping up and down and yelling. It was total chaos. Mr. Wetstone smiled and returned to his seat.

A sense of pride overcame Ronin. He was so happy for Grace, so proud of her. It made him feel good to know that she was his friend. The cheering and jubilation uplifted him, made him feel like anything was possible. In awe over what he just witnessed, he replayed the fight in his mind. As he thought about it something occurred to him. It was something that had started as nothing more than an itch of doubt, but the more he thought about it the larger the itch grew. She was good, he already knew that. Better than he could ever hope to be. Then a conversation they had earlier came to mind. They were talking about the Vein and how all Humayre sword techniques originated from them. It prompted him to wonder about the previous year’s Tournament. When Ronin had asked her how she’d done in last year’s Tournament, she laughed and said not good. She explained that do to extremely bad luck she had been matched up with a Vein in the second round. She said she didn’t stand a chance. The fight was over in seconds. Turned out the Vein she fought was the lowest ranked Vein in the Tournament.

At the time Ronin didn’t think much of what Grace had said. He’d already convinced himself that he would have no problem getting to the fourth round. But after watching Grace’s match doubt weakened his resolve. If Grace couldn’t beat the worst Vein in the previous year’s Tournament, how was he supposed to do it? The prospect of returning to Dick’s care didn’t just seem possible anymore, it seemed inevitable.