DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.
Their Moment
Vash finished the last rep. He reached up, grabbed the bar mounted in the doorway to his room, tucked backwards so his legs came off, and let go. Landed like he expected the judges to award a perfect ten.
He'd risen before the sun, as was his custom. Pulled on his pants and started training. An hour of gun work; then the exercises.
One hundred one-armed push-ups with his real arm. Check.
One hundred L-sit pull-ups. Check.
One hundred one-legged squata, each leg. Check.
Five hundred inverted crunches. Check.
Now his scarred body was slick with sweat, his hair loose and damp. He breathed, steadying himself. Stood in the center of the room. Lowered his hands to the floor, kicked his legs up. Balance, hold the core tight. Keep those legs up. Shift the weight over directly on the right arm, the good arm. Lift the artificial left arm. Breathe…and lower. One…two…three…
He cranked out the one-armed handstand push-ups with ease, at first. The first fifty were easy. The next twenty-five were progressively difficult. The fifteen after that were strenuous. Reps ninety to ninety-five, he had to stop and breathe between each one.
Ninety-six…Don't quit.
Ninety-seven…Come on. Got to be ready.
Ninety-eight…Push. PUSH!
Ninety-nine…So close. Don't you dare give up! PUSH IT!
One hundred!
Vash stayed balanced, though his arm quivered like jelly and kept trying to buckle on him. Should he go for one more?
Do it. He couldn't have another July. He had to be absolutely better than Knives the next time. If he were to win, he had to be able to push himself that much farther than his brother could.
Down – balance! Keep the legs balanced! Push! Push up, find those reserves!
He lost it halfway up and sank back down. Breathed. Negotiated with his body for the strength he needed. Closed his eyes, cleared his mind. Pushed off again.
One –
Keep it moving. Stay balanced, just push straight up. There is no pain. THERE IS NO PAIN, DAMNIT!
– hundred –
He kept pushing, focused all his strength directly on that one little spot he was pushing against. A millimeter…a centimeter…an inch…two inches…he slowly rose. There had been a small puddle of sweat under his head before he started this last rep. Now the sweat was pouring off him. The puddle was growing into a pool. He kept pushing.
Almost…almost…lock it!
– and one!
Vash let the arm lower, fell into a roll, came up standing. Grabbed a towel and wiped his face, tossed it back on the bed. He was glad he'd survived the extra effort. Now he just had to wait for his arm to stop twitching.
He turned to take the bar down from the doorway. Froze in midstep.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," said Meryl Stryfe. She was just standing there, hands at her sides. Not leaning, not smirking, just…watching. "How many of those did you do?"
Vash shrugged. "Ten. Maybe fifteen. Not many."
Meryl snorted in derision. So she'd been standing there long enough to count past fifteen.
He remembered what she'd said the previous night. "I guess you were right."
"About what?"
"You're not running away."
Now Meryl smirked. But…there was something still off. Her eyes were a little wide. She was taking all of him in, not looking at any one part. They looked…if eyes could look that way, they looked hungry.
He looked over at the mirror. Horrific damage aside, he guessed he looked ok. His body was lean, muscular, still gleaming with sweat, hair tousled and wet. A six-pack showed because he was freshly exercised and hadn't eaten. Block out all the scars and damage, and maybe he could see where a woman could find him attractive.
He looked back. Meryl still looked like she was silently devouring him. God only knew what was going through her mind.
What would be going through his mind if the situation were reversed? He looked back at her, mentally took off her clothes…and was transfixed.
My, my, my…so that's what she's feeling right now.
Suddenly he was amped up, like something primal had just seized control of him. His heart started to race. Her perfume and natural scent mixed and filled the air around him. Vision narrowed until all he saw was Meryl. He took a step closer to her.
She met his eyes, took a step closer to him.
They took another step toward each other. Breathing quickened.
Images flashed in his head. Their lips touching…tongues invading…clothes tearing…her legs wrapped around him…nails scratching his back, body pressed tight against him, all sorts of wonderful sounds coming from her…
They were standing in front of each other. Meryl put a hand against his chest, moved it through the sweat until it was at the back of his neck, pulling. Vash leaned in, hands encircling her waist…
"Meryl! Mr. Vash! It's breakfast time, wake up!"
They broke apart at the sound of Milly's voice down the hall, shocked back into reality. Their moment was gone.
Vash was still breathing hard. He wasn't sure he could say anything. Watched Meryl gather herself and stride out, shaken but struggling to be composed. She paused at the door and looked back, regret and longing written on her face.
She blew him a kiss before she left. And he knew for sure.
They would have their moment again.
