Disclaimer: Okay. . . I own nothing; not Gundam Wing, not anything! Thank
you.
A/N- I've been getting some serious writer's block on my other fics, so I sat down to start writing this a while ago, and I thought I might share it . . . but not because I'm looking forward to the many large objects that I will probably hurl at my head for not working on my other stories. This is based on a song, but it's not really a songfic. In any case, you've never heard it, I can almost guarantee. I don't own it, either.
Warnings: I've changed the names within the song to match the Gundam Wing characters. AU, OOC, 1+2, implied 3+4.
******************corresponding verses to this chapter*********************
From "Malon's Bridge" By Mustard's Retreat
"Now there's a tale I'm after singin' that my grandpa used to tell
He said 'twas to enlighten me and chasten me as well
You may laugh about your elders when the sun is shining bright
But be sure you're on the Christian side of Zechs' bridge tonight"
*****************************************
Begin:
"Eyah!" Wufei yelled into the air as he took a second swing at the demon, and upon hitting the ghost-like decoy, it vanished into thin air. He was silent a moment as he brought down his katana, still in attack position, awaiting its return from the undergrowth, but nothing came. He gritted his teeth angrily, "Dammit Yuy!"
His partner back at him and 'Hn'ed quickly before continuing to examine the stone he had been looking at the past ten minutes more carefully.
"That -thing-'s going to come back any minute now if we don't get out of here." The Chinese boy hissed. Neither one of them was accustomed to working with another slayer, but it seemed the only solution right about now. The demons were becoming more numerous than ever, and it was just their luck to have run into each other days ago. "This obsession with your stone is ridiculous. We need to get moving!"
The second cloaked young man then stood up, and had Wufei been able to see his eyes, they would have certainly been glaring at him. "And where would you have us go?"
Wufei stopped in his tracks loosening his grip on his katana in surprise at the question before gripping it tighter. Yuy had won, and smirked mentally at his accomplishment before going back to the stone.
"Aren't you finished?" Wufei grew impatient, crossing his arms within the folds of the dark cloak. Heero chose to ignore him.
"We have to take it to J." Heero decided, looking once more at the object in hand before pocketing it. It barely fit across his thumb, and still, there had to be something significant about it.
"Whatever for?!" Wufei protested quickly, "We only need to follow the road! It will lead us to where we have to go. You yourself said so."
"Fine then, Chang" Heero said acutely and the Chinese boy softened slightly at Heero's informal address, "WE won't take it to J. . . YOU will." Heero emphasized, slipping the stone out of his pocket and tossing it over to the wide eyes that said you-can't-be-serious. Wufei caught the stone and looked at it a second before turning up into Heero's face angrily.
"This is an injustice, Yuy!" the slayer retorted, "This . . . this . . . ~pebble~ has nothing to do with the demons!"
"Then why do we always seem to find the same exact one every time we come in contact with a demon. This one has an ancient writing on it, see for yourself." Wufei looked down into his hands and turned the stone over to the quartz side, where it clearly had a message written in flowing black ink, but he was obviously no better fit to read it than Heero was. "The enemy wants to give us a message. Finding out what it says could be crucial to the mission, but so is us following the road, as you said."
Heero looked ahead to the stretch of dirt path ahead of him before turning back to Wufei, asking the silent question. Would he take it to J? No doubt the scientist would be able to give them both the information they needed, but it was a question of trust between slayers.
"Fine." Wufei slid his katana into its scabbard and tied the stone carefully into his robes before turning back around the way they came. They couldn't afford to be mistrusting, not when it had come to this.
"Meet me at the village across the river White." Heero muttered after his fellow slayer, who raised the back of his hand as he walked away to show that he had heard. Heero went back to the road.
It would seem longer without a companion at his side. And it was cold. That's one thing he could always be certain of. Whether it was the temperature or the loneliness he felt, it was chilling whatever warmth was left in him to the bone. Of course, he was not sure how long he had been walking the long road, but it was long past sunset, and night's depth was growing upon him. Those days, it wasn't safe to be found on the streets in the dark; it still isn't. There's no telling what evil might become you.
The shadows here have always held many secrets, unknown to outsiders, of course, but that's what slayers are for. He did not hope to ever have to guess, but upon nightfall, the shivers come unwanted and he was almost fearful . . . almost. He was never afraid of anything in his life. He couldn't afford to be. It is inefficient.
Years ago he started down these roads on orders, stopping at inns, following the ghosts no one else could see, with the exception of Wufei. They all led him down this road, so it was best to give in and follow it. His orders were not specific. Hn . . . he was supposed to know his mission, already. Given, he was a slayer, just as they taught him, so they shouldn't have to give directions. If they tried to give them, he'd probably just throw them back in their face, anyway. There are demons lurking around every corner, but nearly no one knows. It's a slayer's job to make it stay that way, and that's why he'll always be cold.
The light shone through the trees up ahead, and Heero looked out from underneath his hood, and pressed on. The wind whipped through his heavy cloak, making it feel paper-thin, but he was trained to overcome such feelings of weakness. It was good that his travels would be over for the day soon enough, he thought, rounding the corner to face the oil lamp straight on. It was a very quaint establishment, and Heero wanted to press further to where he had thought he would be able to reach before nightfall, but something caught his eye. Smoke. Smoke was dithering up from the chimney, and where there was a fire, there was warmth. There was nothing that Heero wouldn't give to be warm again.
It was then that he noticed the house's surroundings and the direction in which the road was headed. Just across the way of the house stood a church, seemingly abandoned, and just a few yards further down was the river White. He had expected to come upon it in a few days time. It was good he had come so soon, but past the beginning to the stone bridge, he could not strained to see.
As Heero strained his eyes to press forward, a bit of wet dirt dust kicked up from the road and into his face. He dared not spit it out, and simply staggered to the door of the quaint, smoke-filled house, and upon hearing faint voices through the wind from inside, he pushed open the door, allowing light to shine into his weary features. The voices rang out clearer.
". . . well, I'm not going to be quite frank. I don't believe a word. Stones? Legends? Devils? The poor man's had one too many glasses of ale." The male voice paused as if finishing a train of thought, "We'd better let him do as he pleases, though, because you know how the--" Heero pushed the door open a bit farther revealing a curious blonde boy who softened his surprised eyes upon his entering and smiled cheerily "Well, hullo . . . we're closed for tonight."
"Forgive my intrusion," The slayer pulled back his hood before taking a step in, and blue eyes glared quite intentionally at the two young men in the small house. It looked like they ran a small restaurant by day, the way the two were gathering up dishes in the armful that littered the tables. Well, it was actually just the fair-haired boy who was gathering the dishes. The other, quite silent as it seemed to Heero, was busy tending to the fireplace. His only distinguishing mark were the long brown bangs that hung from his head, gracefully covering his left eye as soon as he looked anyone straight in the face.
The ashes littered the slate underneath as the young man prodded the remaining bit of the log with an iron poker before putting it back on the rack. A brief moment of silence passed between the unusually-banged boy as he stood to face the slayer, both steady competitors for who could act more like a rock. The unannounced competition was quickly doused by a sigh from across the room as the blonde put his dishes down to greet the stranger, who had evidently no intent on a quiet leave.
Heero fidgeted unnervingly.
"Don't mind Trowa," the smile faded slightly, ". . .but please come in and sit. You look dreadful." As the slayer took a step in, he stopped sharply to move his eyes to the blonde, who had whipped out a tray of muffins without speaking, "I do hope you're hungry! They're fresh out of the oven. Go ahead. Try one." He said, quickly looking back at Trowa with a teasing pout, "You'd better have one, too."
Both stoic boys raised their eyebrows at the gesture, and Trowa quickly took a muffin anyway. What could it hurt, right? Heero stood there, glaring suspiciously at the two. They certainly weren't demons, but . . . this was certainly odd. All the decoy ghosts he had sighted up to this point had pointed him down this road, and for what? So that he could eat a blueberry muffin? The long-banged one seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly, but that wasn't the point.
"My name is Heero Yuy." The slayer announced, narrowing his eyes further if possible. They were already pretty narrow from his war-of-the-glares with Trowa. He had won, of course, but that didn't change the facts. The blonde opened his eyes wide with apology at the admittance.
"I am sorry; I forgot we hadn't already met. My name's Quatre Raberba Winner, and this is my - - friend, Trowa Barton." He motioned the young man who nodded at Heero before taking another hearty bite out of the muffin as he went back to attending the fire. There was a minute of silence as even Quatre was afraid of saying the wrong thing.
"What were you saying about stones?" Heero recalled the blonde's earlier mentioning as he came in the door. The very same boy stared at him a second in dull comprehension, not that he was slow, but only he had other things on his mind. Like how distant Trowa seemed lately . . .
"Oh!" Quatre cheered up a bit upon recollection, "That was just old Dr. G . . . been at the ale again. He came in today going-on about an old legend in the village." He gathered some of the dishes in a pile as he talked. The slayer took hesitant steps forward, edging him forward. This could be the answer, but then the blonde let out a jovial laugh "Silly elders and their stories, but don't take them too seriously," Quatre picked a dirty spoon and held it to Heero's nose a little less-than-threateningly, "Fear can do things to people."
'You're right' Heero thought to himself, 'but that is not what I am protecting people from. They have to do -that- on their own.' "Do you know the legend?"
Quatre blinked, "No, not really," he turned to Trowa, who sighed heavily.
"I am afraid I do not know much of this legend either." The long-banged one spoke at last, "But I can tell you that it's no legend." Quatre opened his eyes wide at this statement, and Heero, who rarely showed any emotion, could have been seen to twitch his eyebrow ever so slightly.
"You've seen the bridge to cross the river White?" Trowa asked expressionlessly of the slayer who nodded, "But have not seen the other side, correct?" Heero nodded once more. "There is a cemetery immediately across the bridge . . ."
"But there's a cemetery here at the church!" Quatre protested immediately. Trowa shook his head.
"It's not that kind of cemetery." Trowa turned to the fire, eager to change the subject, and quickly doused the flame with a little water to dampen the logs. He turned to the two on-lookers who were still eager to hear the rest of the story, "The hour grows late."
The slayer at first showed the faintest hint of surprise before understanding what this implied for him, and took up his hood to venture outside.
"It would not be wise to cross the bridge after midnight." Trowa stated plainly, "You'd best stay with us till daylight. Is there an extra room Quatre?"
"Hmm?" The blond looked up from his daydream, "Not that I recall, but I could always set up a- -"
"Heero can have my room if he pleases," Trowa said, "The bridge is not safe when the sun goes down."
Quatre looked surprised at Trowa for a moment before thinking about the last time Trowa didn't have a room and smiled slightly, "Of course." Heero looked at the two who passed silent glances at each other, and would have smiled, had he been any normal person, but he was as grateful for their kindness as one with so little emotion could stand to be.
"Thank you." The slayer drew his cloak off before being ushered into Trowa's room, where he sat down to think a while. So this is where his travels had led him . . . muffins and a cemetery. He chuckled mentally. Years of searching, and he finally has found his enemy. Some enemy . . .
Heero flopped back onto Trowa's bed, staring at the ceiling.
. . . And here he was, swathing himself from it. He felt like he deserved it after all these years, but then again, what was he afraid of? This one true enemy must be something to be trifled with if it had control over all the other demons that had led him straight on this path. Heero felt his gun quietly sitting in his back pocket.
Heero might have been hiding, but that doesn't mean that the slayer wasn't ready.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Heero woke to the wind that shattered against what he assumed was his windowpane, and then through it, sending shivers through his spine as it wrestled with his covers. It wasn't until then that he realized that this was no dream.
The slayer jumped from the bed, gun inclined at the open window as he approached to close it. He looked out the window cautiously, and narrowed his eyes at the darkness, so that if it had been living, it would have cowered in fear . . . or maybe it would have just laughed in amusement . . . which is what it seemed to do, oddly enough.
Heero closed the window abruptly at the chuckling darkness, although it seemed in vain, because as soon as the window was closed it began again in even sharper intervals, jubilant at every moment of the slayer's frustration. And that's what it was, like the happiness of a child, specifically a child who was a boy and had long since passed puberty. In any case it was laughing, and Heero clenched his teeth in anger as he didn't know where to point his gun. The voice was everywhere.
And then it stopped, and started again just behind him. Heero spun around quickly, but obviously not quickly enough, for he was already caught between a smirking mouth and a tenacious grip on his arms, of which the gun had been mysteriously robbed.
It took the slayer a moment to realize his loss before focusing on the features of his enemy. The smirk was the first thing he noticed, but he should have seen the sparkle in impish eyes that quickly formed a mouth to match.
A pink tongue stuck out at Heero before the enemy let him go, spinning the slayer's own gun around his forefinger mischievously.
"You didn't think that you would actually get away with this, did you? . . . cool gun." The figure added, still as he remained in the safety of darkness.
"Who are you?" The slayer asked sternly.
"Well, ex-cuuuuuu-se me." The young man stepped into the light of the moon from the window, and Heero was surprised to see his form, "I thought you would at least remember -that-." The demon rolled his eyes, catching Heero's gun from the clockwise spin in attack position, before tucking it into his other hand.
It was the first time Heero really had a look at his enemy. . . and he looked. . . familiar?
"But enough about me. . ." The slender young man took a perch on the windowsill, gliding down towards the edge, and peering down at the smaller being, and smirked superiorly, "What happened to those stones I gave you? Surely, you've noticed them."
The demon . . . ? Have we met . . . ?
This was a strange thing to think, especially because the features of the demon were so unique that it was very unlikely it would remind Heero of anyone, and yet it did. He would spend the first minutes after this moment tearing his hair out from where he had seen the demon before.
He looked just his age, but how could that be? Just another trick, but perhaps . . . no, this was his true form. Heero squinted, making sure. Yes. There was no way this was an illusion. The demon looked exactly Heero's age, and human. Never mind the braid, no matter how beautiful, (Heero mentally noted) it was impossible to believe that this one demon could cause so much trouble for him and the other slayers. It was just impossible. Wasn't it?
It was only a month ago when the demon decoys were being sent all over the countryside and the slayers couldn't figure out for the life of them who was behind it. Something told Heero this could be the one. He had even come upon Heero without arousing suspicion. This guy was good, and tricky. Heero would have been able to find any other demon in half the time.
"Oh, come on." The young man waved a hand in front of the slayer's narrowing eyes, "I came all the way here for this?" He put his hands on his hips, containing the gun, and smirked, "What a joke."
"I don't understand why you're doing this; sending your decoys to lead us on a wild chase across the country. What is it that you want from us?" Heero exploded, still confused by his own feelings. The demon could sense it and walked silently forward, putting a hand underneath the slayer's chin, his eyes saddening slightly, but still holding that devious smirk on his lips.
The demon was hiding Heero from his feelings.
Light shone on the demon as he advanced, and it almost seemed as if he was floating because the air stood still. The demon's violet eyes shone gray in the moonlight and flooded with hurt among his intimidating features. Heero's stood at attention, so it seemed, but his heart was racing. In argument, one might say he was afraid, but the slayer had never been afraid before.
The seemingly young black-clad demon still had his cold hand gently slid under the slayer's chin. They were only a breath away. The chill of the cold, deathly flesh on his own might have sent shivers up Heero's spine, but he couldn't feel anything. It was like the demon wasn't even there, or perhaps he was just numbed with emotion and his senses were a little too fuzzy.
"I want you to remember . . ." The demon said wistfully, bringing the flawless pale hand down from the side of Heero's cheek and flushing it aside to look up into the cobalt blue eyes that threatened silently, but were loud enough to make themselves known. The demon's chestnut braid and bangs swayed slightly as he took a sharp, graceful step backward from the slayer, and glanced behind him. It was true, the sun had already begun rising, and Heero watched as the demon narrowed his eyes at the lightened sky. Although it was still dark outside, Heero knew as well as any slayer that demons did not exist in physical form when the daylight came.
"We'll meet again." The demon said in a low tenor, turning back to Heero from the window.
"Why should I take your word?" Heero asked the demon, knowing that he did not have the upper hand. The demon could come to him any time at night that he pleased, and now that the enemy knew of his intentions, it would be easier to just kill him and run when Heero wasn't looking. The demon narrowed his eyes slightly at this comment, a little peeved that such a question of honor would have to come up between the two of them.
"I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie." The demon's voice changed to being loud and defiant, from the wistfulness he showed before, as he faded, retreating slowly back into the darkness of the room. A new gust of wind came to pass through, confirming that the demon had exited through that very place from whence he came.
Heero went to the open window to close it, and found his gun on the sill as the sun began to rise. He picked the weapon up and held it in his hand, the silver glistening from the moonlight. This was the very weapon he intended to kill the demon with, but the demon had given it back.
"Hn . . . . Baka." Heero hissed, frustrated, to the gun. He would still be able to kill the demon, now, but he didn't want to anymore. That must be what the demon wanted, or he would never have given the weapon back. Or was it another strange message . . . but what could the message possibly be? It must be a trap.
They were enemies; he, a demon, and Heero, a slayer. The mission always comes first, and the demon is always the enemy. But why, then, did he feel this way? Heero clenched the gun tighter in his hands.
With that, Heero tucked the weapon into his clothes and who-knows- whereabouts, trying to focus his mind on other things. He was supposed to meet Wufei farther ahead on the road, but a night's rest wouldn't make much difference, he decided. The Chinese boy would arrive shortly to this quaint church town with the information they needed by sunrise. With any luck, he would meet the young man on the road, then.
Yes, 'with any luck'. Heero Yuy was not yet a believer in destiny.
********************************
^_^ Thank you so much for reading!
It's kind of confusing now, but there is a plot, promise!
Please review if you like it so I know if I should continue! I'll warn you, though, there are 16 verses . . . meaning that if I continue, it's going to be long. Thank you!
A/N- I've been getting some serious writer's block on my other fics, so I sat down to start writing this a while ago, and I thought I might share it . . . but not because I'm looking forward to the many large objects that I will probably hurl at my head for not working on my other stories. This is based on a song, but it's not really a songfic. In any case, you've never heard it, I can almost guarantee. I don't own it, either.
Warnings: I've changed the names within the song to match the Gundam Wing characters. AU, OOC, 1+2, implied 3+4.
******************corresponding verses to this chapter*********************
From "Malon's Bridge" By Mustard's Retreat
"Now there's a tale I'm after singin' that my grandpa used to tell
He said 'twas to enlighten me and chasten me as well
You may laugh about your elders when the sun is shining bright
But be sure you're on the Christian side of Zechs' bridge tonight"
*****************************************
Begin:
"Eyah!" Wufei yelled into the air as he took a second swing at the demon, and upon hitting the ghost-like decoy, it vanished into thin air. He was silent a moment as he brought down his katana, still in attack position, awaiting its return from the undergrowth, but nothing came. He gritted his teeth angrily, "Dammit Yuy!"
His partner back at him and 'Hn'ed quickly before continuing to examine the stone he had been looking at the past ten minutes more carefully.
"That -thing-'s going to come back any minute now if we don't get out of here." The Chinese boy hissed. Neither one of them was accustomed to working with another slayer, but it seemed the only solution right about now. The demons were becoming more numerous than ever, and it was just their luck to have run into each other days ago. "This obsession with your stone is ridiculous. We need to get moving!"
The second cloaked young man then stood up, and had Wufei been able to see his eyes, they would have certainly been glaring at him. "And where would you have us go?"
Wufei stopped in his tracks loosening his grip on his katana in surprise at the question before gripping it tighter. Yuy had won, and smirked mentally at his accomplishment before going back to the stone.
"Aren't you finished?" Wufei grew impatient, crossing his arms within the folds of the dark cloak. Heero chose to ignore him.
"We have to take it to J." Heero decided, looking once more at the object in hand before pocketing it. It barely fit across his thumb, and still, there had to be something significant about it.
"Whatever for?!" Wufei protested quickly, "We only need to follow the road! It will lead us to where we have to go. You yourself said so."
"Fine then, Chang" Heero said acutely and the Chinese boy softened slightly at Heero's informal address, "WE won't take it to J. . . YOU will." Heero emphasized, slipping the stone out of his pocket and tossing it over to the wide eyes that said you-can't-be-serious. Wufei caught the stone and looked at it a second before turning up into Heero's face angrily.
"This is an injustice, Yuy!" the slayer retorted, "This . . . this . . . ~pebble~ has nothing to do with the demons!"
"Then why do we always seem to find the same exact one every time we come in contact with a demon. This one has an ancient writing on it, see for yourself." Wufei looked down into his hands and turned the stone over to the quartz side, where it clearly had a message written in flowing black ink, but he was obviously no better fit to read it than Heero was. "The enemy wants to give us a message. Finding out what it says could be crucial to the mission, but so is us following the road, as you said."
Heero looked ahead to the stretch of dirt path ahead of him before turning back to Wufei, asking the silent question. Would he take it to J? No doubt the scientist would be able to give them both the information they needed, but it was a question of trust between slayers.
"Fine." Wufei slid his katana into its scabbard and tied the stone carefully into his robes before turning back around the way they came. They couldn't afford to be mistrusting, not when it had come to this.
"Meet me at the village across the river White." Heero muttered after his fellow slayer, who raised the back of his hand as he walked away to show that he had heard. Heero went back to the road.
It would seem longer without a companion at his side. And it was cold. That's one thing he could always be certain of. Whether it was the temperature or the loneliness he felt, it was chilling whatever warmth was left in him to the bone. Of course, he was not sure how long he had been walking the long road, but it was long past sunset, and night's depth was growing upon him. Those days, it wasn't safe to be found on the streets in the dark; it still isn't. There's no telling what evil might become you.
The shadows here have always held many secrets, unknown to outsiders, of course, but that's what slayers are for. He did not hope to ever have to guess, but upon nightfall, the shivers come unwanted and he was almost fearful . . . almost. He was never afraid of anything in his life. He couldn't afford to be. It is inefficient.
Years ago he started down these roads on orders, stopping at inns, following the ghosts no one else could see, with the exception of Wufei. They all led him down this road, so it was best to give in and follow it. His orders were not specific. Hn . . . he was supposed to know his mission, already. Given, he was a slayer, just as they taught him, so they shouldn't have to give directions. If they tried to give them, he'd probably just throw them back in their face, anyway. There are demons lurking around every corner, but nearly no one knows. It's a slayer's job to make it stay that way, and that's why he'll always be cold.
The light shone through the trees up ahead, and Heero looked out from underneath his hood, and pressed on. The wind whipped through his heavy cloak, making it feel paper-thin, but he was trained to overcome such feelings of weakness. It was good that his travels would be over for the day soon enough, he thought, rounding the corner to face the oil lamp straight on. It was a very quaint establishment, and Heero wanted to press further to where he had thought he would be able to reach before nightfall, but something caught his eye. Smoke. Smoke was dithering up from the chimney, and where there was a fire, there was warmth. There was nothing that Heero wouldn't give to be warm again.
It was then that he noticed the house's surroundings and the direction in which the road was headed. Just across the way of the house stood a church, seemingly abandoned, and just a few yards further down was the river White. He had expected to come upon it in a few days time. It was good he had come so soon, but past the beginning to the stone bridge, he could not strained to see.
As Heero strained his eyes to press forward, a bit of wet dirt dust kicked up from the road and into his face. He dared not spit it out, and simply staggered to the door of the quaint, smoke-filled house, and upon hearing faint voices through the wind from inside, he pushed open the door, allowing light to shine into his weary features. The voices rang out clearer.
". . . well, I'm not going to be quite frank. I don't believe a word. Stones? Legends? Devils? The poor man's had one too many glasses of ale." The male voice paused as if finishing a train of thought, "We'd better let him do as he pleases, though, because you know how the--" Heero pushed the door open a bit farther revealing a curious blonde boy who softened his surprised eyes upon his entering and smiled cheerily "Well, hullo . . . we're closed for tonight."
"Forgive my intrusion," The slayer pulled back his hood before taking a step in, and blue eyes glared quite intentionally at the two young men in the small house. It looked like they ran a small restaurant by day, the way the two were gathering up dishes in the armful that littered the tables. Well, it was actually just the fair-haired boy who was gathering the dishes. The other, quite silent as it seemed to Heero, was busy tending to the fireplace. His only distinguishing mark were the long brown bangs that hung from his head, gracefully covering his left eye as soon as he looked anyone straight in the face.
The ashes littered the slate underneath as the young man prodded the remaining bit of the log with an iron poker before putting it back on the rack. A brief moment of silence passed between the unusually-banged boy as he stood to face the slayer, both steady competitors for who could act more like a rock. The unannounced competition was quickly doused by a sigh from across the room as the blonde put his dishes down to greet the stranger, who had evidently no intent on a quiet leave.
Heero fidgeted unnervingly.
"Don't mind Trowa," the smile faded slightly, ". . .but please come in and sit. You look dreadful." As the slayer took a step in, he stopped sharply to move his eyes to the blonde, who had whipped out a tray of muffins without speaking, "I do hope you're hungry! They're fresh out of the oven. Go ahead. Try one." He said, quickly looking back at Trowa with a teasing pout, "You'd better have one, too."
Both stoic boys raised their eyebrows at the gesture, and Trowa quickly took a muffin anyway. What could it hurt, right? Heero stood there, glaring suspiciously at the two. They certainly weren't demons, but . . . this was certainly odd. All the decoy ghosts he had sighted up to this point had pointed him down this road, and for what? So that he could eat a blueberry muffin? The long-banged one seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly, but that wasn't the point.
"My name is Heero Yuy." The slayer announced, narrowing his eyes further if possible. They were already pretty narrow from his war-of-the-glares with Trowa. He had won, of course, but that didn't change the facts. The blonde opened his eyes wide with apology at the admittance.
"I am sorry; I forgot we hadn't already met. My name's Quatre Raberba Winner, and this is my - - friend, Trowa Barton." He motioned the young man who nodded at Heero before taking another hearty bite out of the muffin as he went back to attending the fire. There was a minute of silence as even Quatre was afraid of saying the wrong thing.
"What were you saying about stones?" Heero recalled the blonde's earlier mentioning as he came in the door. The very same boy stared at him a second in dull comprehension, not that he was slow, but only he had other things on his mind. Like how distant Trowa seemed lately . . .
"Oh!" Quatre cheered up a bit upon recollection, "That was just old Dr. G . . . been at the ale again. He came in today going-on about an old legend in the village." He gathered some of the dishes in a pile as he talked. The slayer took hesitant steps forward, edging him forward. This could be the answer, but then the blonde let out a jovial laugh "Silly elders and their stories, but don't take them too seriously," Quatre picked a dirty spoon and held it to Heero's nose a little less-than-threateningly, "Fear can do things to people."
'You're right' Heero thought to himself, 'but that is not what I am protecting people from. They have to do -that- on their own.' "Do you know the legend?"
Quatre blinked, "No, not really," he turned to Trowa, who sighed heavily.
"I am afraid I do not know much of this legend either." The long-banged one spoke at last, "But I can tell you that it's no legend." Quatre opened his eyes wide at this statement, and Heero, who rarely showed any emotion, could have been seen to twitch his eyebrow ever so slightly.
"You've seen the bridge to cross the river White?" Trowa asked expressionlessly of the slayer who nodded, "But have not seen the other side, correct?" Heero nodded once more. "There is a cemetery immediately across the bridge . . ."
"But there's a cemetery here at the church!" Quatre protested immediately. Trowa shook his head.
"It's not that kind of cemetery." Trowa turned to the fire, eager to change the subject, and quickly doused the flame with a little water to dampen the logs. He turned to the two on-lookers who were still eager to hear the rest of the story, "The hour grows late."
The slayer at first showed the faintest hint of surprise before understanding what this implied for him, and took up his hood to venture outside.
"It would not be wise to cross the bridge after midnight." Trowa stated plainly, "You'd best stay with us till daylight. Is there an extra room Quatre?"
"Hmm?" The blond looked up from his daydream, "Not that I recall, but I could always set up a- -"
"Heero can have my room if he pleases," Trowa said, "The bridge is not safe when the sun goes down."
Quatre looked surprised at Trowa for a moment before thinking about the last time Trowa didn't have a room and smiled slightly, "Of course." Heero looked at the two who passed silent glances at each other, and would have smiled, had he been any normal person, but he was as grateful for their kindness as one with so little emotion could stand to be.
"Thank you." The slayer drew his cloak off before being ushered into Trowa's room, where he sat down to think a while. So this is where his travels had led him . . . muffins and a cemetery. He chuckled mentally. Years of searching, and he finally has found his enemy. Some enemy . . .
Heero flopped back onto Trowa's bed, staring at the ceiling.
. . . And here he was, swathing himself from it. He felt like he deserved it after all these years, but then again, what was he afraid of? This one true enemy must be something to be trifled with if it had control over all the other demons that had led him straight on this path. Heero felt his gun quietly sitting in his back pocket.
Heero might have been hiding, but that doesn't mean that the slayer wasn't ready.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Heero woke to the wind that shattered against what he assumed was his windowpane, and then through it, sending shivers through his spine as it wrestled with his covers. It wasn't until then that he realized that this was no dream.
The slayer jumped from the bed, gun inclined at the open window as he approached to close it. He looked out the window cautiously, and narrowed his eyes at the darkness, so that if it had been living, it would have cowered in fear . . . or maybe it would have just laughed in amusement . . . which is what it seemed to do, oddly enough.
Heero closed the window abruptly at the chuckling darkness, although it seemed in vain, because as soon as the window was closed it began again in even sharper intervals, jubilant at every moment of the slayer's frustration. And that's what it was, like the happiness of a child, specifically a child who was a boy and had long since passed puberty. In any case it was laughing, and Heero clenched his teeth in anger as he didn't know where to point his gun. The voice was everywhere.
And then it stopped, and started again just behind him. Heero spun around quickly, but obviously not quickly enough, for he was already caught between a smirking mouth and a tenacious grip on his arms, of which the gun had been mysteriously robbed.
It took the slayer a moment to realize his loss before focusing on the features of his enemy. The smirk was the first thing he noticed, but he should have seen the sparkle in impish eyes that quickly formed a mouth to match.
A pink tongue stuck out at Heero before the enemy let him go, spinning the slayer's own gun around his forefinger mischievously.
"You didn't think that you would actually get away with this, did you? . . . cool gun." The figure added, still as he remained in the safety of darkness.
"Who are you?" The slayer asked sternly.
"Well, ex-cuuuuuu-se me." The young man stepped into the light of the moon from the window, and Heero was surprised to see his form, "I thought you would at least remember -that-." The demon rolled his eyes, catching Heero's gun from the clockwise spin in attack position, before tucking it into his other hand.
It was the first time Heero really had a look at his enemy. . . and he looked. . . familiar?
"But enough about me. . ." The slender young man took a perch on the windowsill, gliding down towards the edge, and peering down at the smaller being, and smirked superiorly, "What happened to those stones I gave you? Surely, you've noticed them."
The demon . . . ? Have we met . . . ?
This was a strange thing to think, especially because the features of the demon were so unique that it was very unlikely it would remind Heero of anyone, and yet it did. He would spend the first minutes after this moment tearing his hair out from where he had seen the demon before.
He looked just his age, but how could that be? Just another trick, but perhaps . . . no, this was his true form. Heero squinted, making sure. Yes. There was no way this was an illusion. The demon looked exactly Heero's age, and human. Never mind the braid, no matter how beautiful, (Heero mentally noted) it was impossible to believe that this one demon could cause so much trouble for him and the other slayers. It was just impossible. Wasn't it?
It was only a month ago when the demon decoys were being sent all over the countryside and the slayers couldn't figure out for the life of them who was behind it. Something told Heero this could be the one. He had even come upon Heero without arousing suspicion. This guy was good, and tricky. Heero would have been able to find any other demon in half the time.
"Oh, come on." The young man waved a hand in front of the slayer's narrowing eyes, "I came all the way here for this?" He put his hands on his hips, containing the gun, and smirked, "What a joke."
"I don't understand why you're doing this; sending your decoys to lead us on a wild chase across the country. What is it that you want from us?" Heero exploded, still confused by his own feelings. The demon could sense it and walked silently forward, putting a hand underneath the slayer's chin, his eyes saddening slightly, but still holding that devious smirk on his lips.
The demon was hiding Heero from his feelings.
Light shone on the demon as he advanced, and it almost seemed as if he was floating because the air stood still. The demon's violet eyes shone gray in the moonlight and flooded with hurt among his intimidating features. Heero's stood at attention, so it seemed, but his heart was racing. In argument, one might say he was afraid, but the slayer had never been afraid before.
The seemingly young black-clad demon still had his cold hand gently slid under the slayer's chin. They were only a breath away. The chill of the cold, deathly flesh on his own might have sent shivers up Heero's spine, but he couldn't feel anything. It was like the demon wasn't even there, or perhaps he was just numbed with emotion and his senses were a little too fuzzy.
"I want you to remember . . ." The demon said wistfully, bringing the flawless pale hand down from the side of Heero's cheek and flushing it aside to look up into the cobalt blue eyes that threatened silently, but were loud enough to make themselves known. The demon's chestnut braid and bangs swayed slightly as he took a sharp, graceful step backward from the slayer, and glanced behind him. It was true, the sun had already begun rising, and Heero watched as the demon narrowed his eyes at the lightened sky. Although it was still dark outside, Heero knew as well as any slayer that demons did not exist in physical form when the daylight came.
"We'll meet again." The demon said in a low tenor, turning back to Heero from the window.
"Why should I take your word?" Heero asked the demon, knowing that he did not have the upper hand. The demon could come to him any time at night that he pleased, and now that the enemy knew of his intentions, it would be easier to just kill him and run when Heero wasn't looking. The demon narrowed his eyes slightly at this comment, a little peeved that such a question of honor would have to come up between the two of them.
"I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie." The demon's voice changed to being loud and defiant, from the wistfulness he showed before, as he faded, retreating slowly back into the darkness of the room. A new gust of wind came to pass through, confirming that the demon had exited through that very place from whence he came.
Heero went to the open window to close it, and found his gun on the sill as the sun began to rise. He picked the weapon up and held it in his hand, the silver glistening from the moonlight. This was the very weapon he intended to kill the demon with, but the demon had given it back.
"Hn . . . . Baka." Heero hissed, frustrated, to the gun. He would still be able to kill the demon, now, but he didn't want to anymore. That must be what the demon wanted, or he would never have given the weapon back. Or was it another strange message . . . but what could the message possibly be? It must be a trap.
They were enemies; he, a demon, and Heero, a slayer. The mission always comes first, and the demon is always the enemy. But why, then, did he feel this way? Heero clenched the gun tighter in his hands.
With that, Heero tucked the weapon into his clothes and who-knows- whereabouts, trying to focus his mind on other things. He was supposed to meet Wufei farther ahead on the road, but a night's rest wouldn't make much difference, he decided. The Chinese boy would arrive shortly to this quaint church town with the information they needed by sunrise. With any luck, he would meet the young man on the road, then.
Yes, 'with any luck'. Heero Yuy was not yet a believer in destiny.
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^_^ Thank you so much for reading!
It's kind of confusing now, but there is a plot, promise!
Please review if you like it so I know if I should continue! I'll warn you, though, there are 16 verses . . . meaning that if I continue, it's going to be long. Thank you!