Taro awoke with a start, his heart racing from the remnants of a terrible nightmare. Shadows flickered in the corners of his room, and he gasped for breath, still feeling the fear clinging to him. "Ochan…" he called softly, seeking comfort in the familiar presence of his mentor. Ochan, a young man with a gentle demeanor, appeared in the doorway, concern etched on his face. "Taro… get up, or you'll be late for school," he urged with a warm but firm voice.
The chaos began immediately. As Taro swung his legs off the bed, the alarm clock flew off the nightstand, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. The bedsheet flew off in a wild spin, socks scattered across the room, and papers fluttered like startled birds. Taro scrambled through the mess, his heart pounding as he rushed to get ready. Time was slipping away, and panic set in as he raced to gather his things. Ochan watched, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and fondness. *This fool,* he thought with a half-smile. Taro was an introverted boy, often trapped in his own thoughts, haunted by sleepless nights filled with nightmares.
The day dragged on, each hour stretching painfully long, filled with the humdrum of school life. Taro felt like a ghost, drifting through classes where teachers spoke, but their words never truly reached him. As the sun set, casting long shadows, Ochan returned, holding a book with a worn cover. "Taro… this is the book you asked for, *LUCID DREAMING for Beginners…*" His voice held a hint of excitement, like a spark that could ignite a fire.
Taro's eyes lit up as he reached for the book, a wave of hope washing over him. But almost instantly, that light faded, replaced by the familiar weight of his introversion. "Yeah… thanks," he mumbled, retreating into himself as if the book were a treasure he didn't deserve. Ochan noticed the shift and gently ruffled Taro's hair, an affectionate gesture that felt both comforting and foreign. "Just… a thanks? Try to be more expressive, Taro," he teased lightly. Taro nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.
This moment marked a turning point for Taro. Clutching the book tightly, he retreated into the quiet of his room, eager to uncover the secrets within its pages. For the next few days, he immersed himself in the techniques—sitting, standing, lying down, flying, jumping—each practice session opening new doors to his imagination. "This fool," Ochan muttered, peeking through the keyhole with a bemused smile. "But this is the first time I've seen him working so hard for something."
"Come on, my demons," Taro declared one night, standing resolutely with a large sword in hand, ready to confront the nightmares that plagued him. *Yes,* he thought, *finally, I can take control.* The demons loomed before him, terrifying and grotesque, but Taro felt a surge of courage. One by one, he defeated them, banishing the nightmares that had tormented him for so long. Each victory brought a rush of exhilaration, an intoxicating pleasure that filled him with a sense of power. He was not just an introverted boy; he was a warrior, fighting against the darkness.
His life at school continued in its usual, predictable manner, marked by fleeting glances and whispered conversations. Taro had very few friends, almost none at all. "Having no friends is better," he told himself, though deep down, he longed for connection. The silence within him echoed louder than ever, amplifying the dreams he could never quite reach. For Taro, the world of lucid dreaming was a jackpot—a chance to escape into a realm where he could control his own destiny. Every night, he eagerly ventured into that dream world, determined to grasp the threads of power that had once slipped through his fingers.
But one pivotal night, everything changed. Taro found himself thrust into a strange world, a place where nothing made sense, and chaos reigned. The landscape twisted and turned, an unpredictable realm where he wandered like a lost child. "Up, up, away… come fly with me!" he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. Yet, his powers felt distant, slipping away like smoke. "What's happening?!" Panic flooded him as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to wake, but when he opened them, the world remained unchanged. "What's that monkey doing?" a girl's voice chimed in, bemused by his frantic movements.
He had unknowingly entered the hidden realm of dreams—the Dreamworld—a shadowy place filled with secrets known only to a select few: politicians, celebrities, and the powerful elite. This realm lay beyond the veil of reality, a dark web woven with mysteries. "Haven't seen you around here; are you the child of someone special?" the girl asked, her curiosity piqued.
Taro stood bewildered, feeling exposed as the dreamlanders—inhabitants of this strange world—surrounded him, their gazes sharp and calculating. "Amanda, who's that boy? Is he a dreamer?" powerful figures loomed over him, assessing him as a potential threat.
They seized him and brought him before the great sage, a formidable, bald woman whose presence radiated power. She was an arch dreamer, one of the most influential beings in the Dreamworld, and the leader of the 'Senkai' region. Legends told of her arrival in this realm at a young age, her destiny intricately tied to its fate.
"Impossible," she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and astonishment as she stared into Taro's eyes. "This child entered the Dreamworld without any special abilities or help… at such a young age?" Her gaze bore into him, unwavering, until he felt overwhelmed and darkness enveloped him, pulling him back to the waking world. "Shadow dreamers, gather intel on that child from the real world!" the great sage commanded, her voice powerful and authoritative. The dreamlanders moved swiftly, their voices echoing in unison, "Hai."
Taro awoke with a start, the sound of the alarm clock shattering the morning stillness, pieces flying through the air. "What a strange dream; I didn't even lucid dream last night… instead, I was trapped in a bizarre nightmare," he muttered, sheets and papers swirling around him in a familiar chaos. "This… fool," Ochan remarked dryly, observing the morning chaos.
Ochan handed Taro his bag, but today, he seemed more cautious than usual. "Find someone! Old man, before those dark circles make you look even worse," Taro joked, a playful smirk on his face as he dashed out of the room, determination fueling his steps. "I'll give you my answer when you return… fool," Ochan whispered, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. *This fool, he has grown to meet my expectations.* The wheels of fate began to turn, and Ochan's mind raced with possibilities. "Now it's time to set my plans in motion… oh, the shadows…" A sly grin spread across his lips, hinting at the intrigue that lay ahead.
The Dreamworld was a peculiar place, a stark contrast to the harsh reality—where the rich remained wealthy while the poor struggled. Dreamers, mostly the elite—politicians, celebrities, influencers—navigated this realm, often spending vast sums to unlock its secrets for their children. "Few can enter the Dreamworld even after years of training! Yet, this boy… he's an anomaly," the great sage seethed, her teeth grinding in a mix of envy and fear.
"Although I entered this world at a young age, it was because of my grandfather's rigorous training, which even gifted me his third eye." Sweat dripped down her forehead as realization washed over her, chilling her to the bone. "So, you mean; he might be…" she stammered, her grip faltering as a glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the floor, the sound echoing ominously as a storm loomed on the horizon.