The Golden Pear [YA - Featured]

♫~Notes 101~♫

 Rigaku's eyes shot open, and he straightened himself. His arm didn't hurt, and he wasn't in the sleeping bag either. All around him floated thin haze. Standing up, he pushed up glasses he was sure he didn't put on.

Keeping his composure even inside the dreamland, he remained collected.

"What are you waiting for?" The question sounded more like an order. "Size it!"

"How rude to be so demanding without introducing yourself."

What could a dream do to him? There was nothing he could fear and waking up was only a matter of a few minutes. Dreams usually appeared a short while before waking up. He had read studies about them as a kid and wrote his own paper on this matter during his elementary years.

"Thinking so high of yourself?" The voice mocked him.

The boy kept listening, not recognizing it. It sounded as if a woman was talking at him.

"You know it belongs to you! You are the best!"

The last two words brought the Golden Pear into his mind.

"See? You yearn for it!"

"What do you mean? Explain yourself!" He turned around, trying to glimpse the speaker. 'They couldn't read my mind, could they? Or was it just a fluke? Or are they connected with the pear?'

Too many questions floated in his mind as the haze cleared around him. Glancing a figure, he rushed to catch up to it. His steps and breaths echoed through the emptiness.

Where was he? His muscles screamed in pain with each step. What a vivid dream this was. Despite the best efforts of his brain, Rigaku couldn't stop to play with a possibility of this being real. No dream had ever left an impact on him, much less made him dead tired.

Stopping, he realized the mist stepped away further, revealing ruins all around him. Stone pillars laid scattered and smashed across the stone floor among bloodied armors, helmets, and shields. Finding something resembling his world, he took a deep breath and examined one skeleton.

'There had to be a war a long time ago.'

The man's body laid sprawled onto the floor. His armor almost fully rusted. Only a few engraved patterns were visible, and perhaps they symbolized his rank while alive. His helmet was nowhere to be seen, and a lance or spear stabbed his body to the floor.

His attacker didn't seem to enjoy his victory for too long, as another beheaded body laid a step away. He left the unfortunate men and headed deeper. A beautiful and almost intact mosaic floor that emulated 3D boxes caught his eye.

He kneeled, brushing his fingertips across it. It was perfectly smooth and flat, and endless waves around it made of smaller stones reminded him of his trip to the island Delos, where he had seen a similar carpet.