I sat in the back of the class, just listening for once. These teens are interesting though I don't think I'll ever understand them. They want responsibility, but still want to be protected. Independence without having to do anything for themselves. They are walking contradictions, but I wish I could be one of them.
The teacher was talking; I can't for the life of me remember what she was saying. I probably just didn't deem it important enough to remember. Current events I think, I knew all that stuff. I was all that stuff. Instead, I listened to he whispered conversations going on around the classroom.
"If only I had a chance against those Gundams I'd show them!"
"Destroying them would destroy that entire rebellion. Just wait till we enlist, we'll be the heroes the world needs"
"I just hope the war lasts that long"
"Yeah…too bad you have to be 18…"
"Who says you have to wait?"
The conversation sickens me and I turn my attention back to the teacher, preferring boredom to stupidity. I tune in just in time to hear our latest assignment. We are to write a paper on who we were 10 years ago, who we are now and where we'll be in 10 years' time. Oh goodie.
Luckily the bell rings before the teacher can start into her "Goals are good!" speech. Students bolt for the door and unluckily I get stuck behind the same war happy students I had overheard before. And they're still talking.
"Yeah I love that game!"
Apparently their conversation's about computer games this time. Lucky me.
"My parents think it's too violent." The student shrugs "I play it anyway. Blood and gore don't bother me"
It should.
"Oh have you found the BFG yet! That thing is sweet! The only thing it leaves is a smear of blood…"
Another smiles "I prefer a knife or something smaller. Like to get in close."
But do you really? Do you know what it's like to slit someone's throat? To feel hot blood flow over your hands? Or what it's like to look into the eyes of someone you've just killed and see the life leave them?
Have you ever had to kill someone?
" You know there's a code where you can kill the hostages?" Another sounds eagerly delighted "They scream when they die."
That was too much.
I push though them, not caring who gets shoved into what.
"Hey!" He sounds offended and angry. "What's wrong with you?"
"Just shut up." I'm surprised at the anger in my voice
Another one sneers "Probably one of those people who can't take the blood. Coward"
I feel myself tense. I don't think they expected me to hear that last comment but I did. I whirl to face them knowing full well that I should jut leave well enough alone. Even in the short weeks I've been here I had already heard of the reputation this group had. And I also knew they were just waiting for any reason to 'show me my place.' Their revenge for this will be swift and harsh, but still I say the words "Everyone I've ever known is dead. And it's people like you that killed them."
With that I deliberately turn my back to them and walk away.
Poor innocents, I pity them and at the same time envy them. I wish this were all a game. I wish I could just hit the reset button when I made a mistake and everyone would live again. Maybe then they wouldn't haunt me so.
**
It's late but that assignment is weighing on my mind. I don't know how to deal with it. What do I say? I consider this question, and I walk. And keep walking. I don't see the trees as I wander aimlessly through a deserted park. Should I make up an appropriately happy past present and future? Practice my creative writing skills and make a happy-ever-after? Ignore it and hope I get a mission before it's due? That strikes me as slightly funny. The ultimate homework excuse 'I didn't get my work done because I had to save the world. I'm sorry, it won't happen again'
By now I'm aware of other shadows moving thought the night. They're good but not good enough and I have expected this…hell, I invited this with wandering alone at night. It was going to happen eventually and I'd rather choose the battlefield myself. I had offended them earlier and now they had to prove how tough they were by gang beating the 'cowardly fag boy' as I had so often heard them call me, among other less flattering things.
The shadows surround me and I know that I have to make a
choice. No, there really is no choice. I can't run; that would just make them
stronger. And I can't kill them. There is no debating that point.
"You had better really want this" I didn't expect my voice to sound so tired. This was supposed to be a break from war but it, like death, seems to follow me wherever I go.
One of them flicked open a knife. I saw teeth glint in the
moonlight. "Always wanted to know what it would be like on a real person."
So they have chosen. This is the way it will be.
The fight was bitter and bloody. I somehow kept myself from any serious injury, and managed to demonstrate to them that I was not easy prey. But there were 10 of them, only one of me and I was slightly hampered by the fact that I didn't want to kill any of them. No matter how repulsive they are, they're only kids and they don't deserve to die.
Eventually I heard someone else approaching, judging from the reactions of my opponents I'd say it was some sort of authority figure. They all scattered and the man appeared out of the night. I could see him checking me over, searching for any serious injury.
"What did they do to you?" His voice was kind, and I hurt, but I didn't need to get him involved. I moved away from his probing gaze, wiping the blood of my face as I faded back into the shadows; making sure my face is hidden before answering. "Nothing that hasn't been done worse before"
I can see a look of worried confusion on his face before I turn away and let the shadows claim me. I don't need his pity. I head home to tend my wounds and bleed in silence.
**
"10 years ago I was merely a street child.
"I bounced around from home to home, but no one wanted me, so I just kept going back to the church. Not that I minded, it was a nice place and I knew that Father Maxwell and Sister Helen loved me. They made sure I had enough to eat and a place to sleep. Life was good for once.
"Then the war came to us. The church was bombed for something I did. I held Sister Helen as she died. And it was all my fault. After that I wandered around for a while, simply existing because I wasn't interested enough to die. Then another person found me. That's when the training started.
"And so begins the part of my life that I am living now. As you can see I have loved very little. Everyone I have ever loved has died; however so have my enemies. So who am I now? I am The Shinigami. And right now, I am in space, fighting for my life. These people want me dead and sometimes I wish I could let them succeed. Then at least the pain would be over. I have killed their comrades, and brothers. Their families and friends. For every person you have killed in those games of yours I have killed a real person. Do you have any idea of what that feels like? To have so much blood on you're hands that nothing but death will make it better, and even that isn't a certainty? Do you know what it's like to have never had a life? I know.
"10 years from now, I will most likely be in a grave
somewhere, if I'm lucky.
"To those of you who think of war as a game: Know this. I am Shinigami. I wield Death's Scythe. That night I was carrying at least a gun and two knives. I could have killed you all but I'm tired of the blood. That little amount f pain you inflicted wasn't worth the trouble of hiding your bodies. However if you had met my comrades… well…there wouldn't have been enough left of you to bury. War is not glorious. It is not fun. There are no heroes only survivors. We do what we have to do, because out of the few choices we have this one causes the least pain to others. We don't matter anymore.
"I do not begrudge you your lives and your happiness…Keep on living, and be happy. Give me something to keep fighting for. Give me a reason to keep living.
"Help me to remember why your future worth my life"
The teacher finished and looked out at the silent, stunned class.
"This was left on my desk, along with a note to read it in class…." She paused, remembering the chipper student who always sat in the back, with his back to a wall. As a new student and slightly eccentric-looking with his long braid he had been laughed at, mocked and reviled by the other students. The nicer ones just ignored him, and she could only think of two students who actually took the time to talk to him. He just took it all in, not bothering to deny their charges, just accepting what they said with a quite confidence. She had seen him angry once. It was a flash, quickly covered behind the smiles and laughter, but it had scared her. And he had been, was one of them? He never actually said it but…She shook to dead with disbelief. A sixteen-year-old was a Gundam Pilot. Were they all so young? She knew that Trieze Kushranada was just in his late twenties, and Zech Marquise…They had all heard rumors that the best were so young, but they never knew, never dreamed that it could be reality.
She really had no idea what to say to now. She glanced around the class, hoping to get some sort of a hint. Most of the kids looked as shocked as she felt and she could see them they were making the same connections she had just come up with. A group in the back caught to eye however. They were pale, one of them looked like he was going to throw up. Their eyes were filled with fear.
Then one by one they bowed all their heads, a simple and respectful apology to the man-child they had tormented so unmercifully.
**
High above the earth, his curiosity sated through a careful connection that he had made through the schools security cameras, Duo watched. He saw them listen, then consider. Then he saw the honor they gave him and all the others fighting in this war.
"Thank you" he whispered, and the stars bore silent witness to his tribute.