Author's note: Hello everyone, this is Kitty here. ~
I wrote this piece a little while ago, very very early in the morning, because I just felt an urge to write it.
It was coming from the depths of me... something told me "WRITE THIS". I couldn't resist the urge. I just couldn't... it was stronger than my own will. I needed to write it, to take it off my heart, and to exteriorize something about my favourite Girls und Panzer pairing.
Haven't done the cover art yet, I'll do it when I'll find time to do so.
This piece is full of meaning. Everything here is in symbols, no character names are mentioned, but you'll very likely recognize them. This is a metaphor, my own interpretation of something, and I went very, very deep into it.
I hope you'll enjoy this little one.~
For the ones who read Three, the 48th chapter is still being written, be patient!
THE ANGEL AND THE PUPPET
In a world where tank fights were the first entertainment lived an Angel.
An Angel with beautiful ginger hair, her eyes shining like ambers in the autumn sun, and she was an incredibly sweet person. Loved by her peers, the Angel lived in the purest of happiness, wealth and hope.
But one day, under a drenching rain and a terrifying thunderstorm, a Human's tank slipped into the river. The Angel, without thinking twice, dove to save her. Her wings folded and she crossed the water, despite the danger that awaited her down below.
Seeking through the darkness of the deep waters, the Angel found the barely conscious Human and took her back to the surface, where she could breathe and live, saving her from an horrible death by drowning.
But unfortunately, that sounded the death knell of the Angel's happiness and fullness of life. Her peers who loved her before started bearing a strong, powerful hate towards her. She had sacrificed a tenth victory to save the Human who was in danger.
The Angel who was appreciated by all, who was so sweet and kind...
who saved a Life from a terrible and painful end...
ended up as a scapegoat.
The Angel fled to the North, where she found her new home on a beautiful coast, in a clan populated by small magical beings. She ended quickly at the head of their community, loved just as before by her new friends, and lived a happy life again, though not being as wealthy as before.
Hearing the news that another clan wished to ally with hers, the Angel agreed to help those in need. She would never have abandoned anyone, had they been a friend or a stranger. This clan had suffered heavy defeats in the past due to general anarchy. But where was their leader? Where was the authority figure in their clan?
It was when the Angel came to meet their commander that she became aware of a terrifying reality.
The leader of the clan was a Puppet with long, dark brown hair, whose body was covered in cracks, and whose paint flaked off. All the tanks of her clan had been destroyed. The terrible and colossal Dominant Hand, intimidating, held her Threads at the tips of its fingers.
"Why are you in such a terrible condition?" the Angel asked. "Why do you let this Hand harm you so much? Why do you let this Hand dominate you and control your actions and your thoughts?"
Brutally, the Hand made her stand up. The Puppet took an overly confident, even dramatic posture and replied in a loud voice:
"I'll charge even if it means my death, Angel!"
She seemed to question her own words.
"...Wait, am I-"
At these words, the terrible Fingers shook the helpless Puppet, who started shaking uncontrollably, convulsively, like a madwoman who needed to be tied up.
She seemed to struggle, but the Hand held her well and totally submitted her. It made her come, go, come, go, charge, retreat, charge, retreat, smash into the walls, into the ground, and turn around, until exhaustion took over.
Another crack appeared on her face, from her left cheekbone to the lower part of her cheek.
When the Hand was finally done torturing her for having thought of something else than charging, the Puppet collapsed. She could barely whisper:
"The Hand... the Hand... it's right, it's always right."
The Angel crouched beside the Puppet and took her hand. A little bit of beige paint stained her fingers. A grayish coloring was hidden under this covering. Grayish as the waxy complexion of a dead man who was already cold.
"Your paint is flaking, your body is broken and your eyes are tarnished... This Hand, more than it makes you live, makes you suffer and will make you suffer if you don't free yourself from Its influence."
The huge Fingers made her raise her head, though she kept her eyes low.
"The Hand is right... would it actually be wrong?"
The Angel took the Puppet in her arms and felt an unconditional love in herself. A feeling of distress emerged from the one she was comforting. A distress that no one listened to, no one acknowledged, and no one followed. A distress similar to hers, her own distress that she had felt after saving the precious life of the Human.
The Puppet nervously nestled against her, shaking in fear and pain, and tears flowed from her expressionless eyes. She whispered:
"Angel with divine Wings, would you be able to free me from Its grip? I can't do it myself. I am submitted to the will of this Hand that controls me and makes me live, just like your Wings do... Who are you without your Wings which make you fly and live among the clouds and stars?"
"I want to help you," the Angel whispered, squeezing a little more the sad Puppet in her arms. "I want to separate you from It, from the Hand that dominates you and is harming you, so that you are at last free and happy..."
She looked at her wings. Her pure white, solar wings, which contrasted so much with the moon-ish complexion of the poor one she was helping... Yes... who was she without these Wings who made her live and fly?
"Pure-hearted Angel... I don't want to leave you anymore. You give me the comfort that was never granted to me. I want to be by your side until my life ends... my life as a slave and captive."
"I feel for you, sweet Puppet, a thing I can't explain. I want to protect you and stay with you, I'll take care of you better than this Hand that tortures you and forces you to say what you don't want to say."
The Angel's heart was beating faster and stronger. She looked lovingly at the Puppet who was still in her arms and caressed her face, that face broken by the crack that crossed her left cheek. In spite of her tarnished stare, the fractures of her body and the paint that continued to fall out, the Puppet was so beautiful and lovely-looking... Time no longer existed for both of them as they stared into each other's eyes.
How long did they stay here, staring into each other's souls? Making Earth and Heaven meet? Transcending all the limits of the Universe, going through centuries and millennia?
After a while of silence, the Puppet gently murmured:
"If you separate me from the Hand... I'll always be with you. Forever."
The Puppet grabbed a pair of scissors and handed it to the Angel. She whispered feebly, her tears staining her paint which flaked even more:
"I want you to cut those Threads that still connect me to It... I can't bear It anymore. You opened my eyes on what It was, you, Angel with heartwarming eyes... "
The Angel couldn't control the flood of sadness that came with these words. She felt a reciprocal love for the Puppet, and realized that the only way to free her... was to cut her from her source of life.
She could not kill. She could not live with the memory of a murder, even if it was for a good cause. She was simply incapable of doing so. Killing her loved one was just too much to handle.
The Angel took the hand of her Puppet, trying not to cry.
"If I have to free you... I'll free myself too," the Angel murmured, her eyes full of tears. "I will cut off my Wings when your Threads will fall, and we shall be together for eternity."
She grabbed the pair of scissors. At the last moment, the Puppet put one of her cracked hands on her loved one's cheek.
"Kiss me," she whispered. "Give me that kiss I've been longing for, Angel..."
The Angel looked at her with the same melancholic tenderness, and let her heart guide her body. She gave her a warm kiss, full of all the emotions she felt, as soft as the feathers of her own wings. One wasn't enough. She kissed her again, not getting tired of those greyish, but such sweet and loving lips...
She gently moved away from her lover's head, then grabbed the pair of scissors. The Puppet didn't move, keeping her eyes on the Angel, who couldn't help but burst into tears. She couldn't close the sharp blades on the First. It was simply impossible.
"Don't worry, heavenly Angel... it won't hurt... I'll just drift into sleep and never wake up."
The Angel looked at her one last time, then closed her eyes and let the scissors close on the Thread, which fell beside her. The sound of the cut gave her a start. She didn't say anything any more: she quickly moved her hand on the Second and cut it. Third. Fourth. And the last one, a Fifth which was holding her head. The Hand screamed in agony. The Puppet, finally free, fell into the Angel's arms.
"An Angel without wings... and a Puppet without threads... now we will finally be free together, neither bound to Earth, nor to Heaven."
The Angel watched her slowly falling into an eternal sleep. A slumber she would never get out of. A forever-lasting dream.
She glanced at the pair of scissors, and then, without thinking twice, cut both of her Wings. An unbearably stabbing pain made her shriek, and a runny red fluid escaped as her strength left her, and she laid down on the stained remains of what used to make her live, beside her sleeping Puppet she was clenching in her arms.
With her last breath, as the last drops of life evaporated into the atmosphere, she simply whispered:
"Now we're both free, my sweet Puppet."