This story is about the 1996 anime adaptation, Kaiketsu Zorro. It's based on the events of the final episode of the series.
This fic is just a little experiment. I started writing it with no idea where I was going with it and just let it develop on its own. It's angstier than my usual fics, though ironically I had tons of fun writing this. At least at first.
A LONG WAY FOR NOTHING
It was a warm summer afternoon in San Tasco. The sun had started its descent below the horizon, giving the sky an orange tint and painting the town with melancholy, brownish colours. Not even the slightest breeze brought any comfort to the lingering heat of the day, but the townspeople were used to it and cherished the short, beautiful moments before nightfall.
A man was walking down the street, letting his feet take him where he remembered the town square to be. The town hadn't changed that much. It had grown a little, and there were many buildings he had never seen before, but on the surface everything was almost like twenty-five years ago. It was like he had stepped back into the past, but he didn't dare to allow himself that comforting thought even for a minute.
His broken body was a good reminder of reality. He had once been a fine example of a man – tall, muscular and handsome, and he had always carried his form with pride. Now his posture was hunched from decades of labour. Countless scars defaced his back and sides. He was limping because his right ankle had never been let to heal properly after it had been broken. His face bore more lines than was usual for his age, and his hair had grown thinner and grey. Every step he took sent waves of dull pain through him, but he was used to that. The pain had been a constant companion for years, the only stable thing he had left in his life.
The people he passed by in the street gave him wary glances, but he knew nobody recognised him. Unlike the town, the former lieutenant had changed drastically. The men and women he saw now had been children when they had last seen him. He would have been surprised if they had even remembered him anymore.
He stopped for a moment when he came to a street that he instantly recognised. Dr. Timothy's medical office had been there, but the familiar building was now gone. In its place was a shoemaker's shop. A young woman was sweeping the steps and stopped her work when she noticed him standing there.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked politely.
"No, no. I'm just stopping to catch my breath," he replied. He saw pity in the woman's eyes. In the past, that would have sent him into a fit of rage, but nowadays he didn't have the energy to feel angry at such things. He only got a mild sense of dark amusement from the fact that if the woman had known why he looked so miserable, she would have thought he deserved it.
He continued on his way until he finally reached the town square. The old fountain was still there. For a while he only stared at it, remembering all too well how he had been defeated and arrested at that very spot so many years ago. His whole world had crumbled around him that day. With Raymond dead, he had been the highest ranking officer to take the blame for the numerous crimes that had been committed in the name of the Spanish army.
His trial had been swift. He had been found guilty of all charges, and it was a small wonder he hadn't been executed. He had pleaded for his life, claiming that Raymond had forced him into helping him and that he hadn't been in the position to oppose his commander – all lies, of course, but he had always been a good actor. In the end the Governor General had taken pity on him and he had been spared death. Instead, he had been sentenced to twenty-five years of hard labour. Had he known what torture those years would turn out to be, he might have rather joined Raymond in hell.
Gabriel saw red as he picked up yet another cannon ball from the large pile on the right side of the massive prison yard. Sweat was pouring down his back and his fingers were raw from having performed this same menial task every day ever since he had arrived – how long ago that was, he didn't know for sure, but it couldn't be more than a few weeks.
His hands were trembling, but it was only half out of the pain in his muscles and the strain of the work. Most men who were sent to prisons like this broke fast and became soulless slaves who performed their tasks in silence and waited for death to release them from the torment. But not Gabriel. He stubbornly clung to his hatred and thirst for revenge. They were the only things that kept him sane each time he stumbled under the load he was carrying and fell to the ground, angry yells and sometimes the bite of a whip following not long after.
Zorro's image was on his mind day and night. Whenever his old wounds opened again or new ones were inflicted, he thought about how he would kill that piece of scum and everyone who had helped him. He'd gut that pathetic Sergeant Gonzales for daring to turn against him. He'd make sure Colonel Jekyll died a horrible death. He'd kill that little brat who always helped Zorro. He'd… he'd even kill Zorro's horse!
"Hey, move faster over there!"
The handle of a musket struck him in the face and sent him sprawled to the ground. The cannon ball fell from his hands, but thankfully it didn't crush his feet. Stars were dancing before his eyes, and he tasted blood in his mouth. When he looked up, he saw a soldier towering over him with a furious expression on his face.
"Do you think you're on a break or something? Get back to work!" the soldier snapped and delivered a swift kick to his side. Gabriel didn't even try to hold back a groan. Showing any self-restraint only made some soldiers strike again twice harder. He knew that's what he would have done had their places been reversed.
His whole body protested when he got back to his feet and went to pick up the cannon ball. He joined the other prisoners in their meaningless task. For weeks now, they had spent their days moving cannon balls from one side of the yard to the other. Once they were done, they moved them back. They were slippery in their sweaty hands and the strain made their arms ache like they were about to break. Gabriel could have taken all that if there had been any point in their work. If they only had been doing something that had a purpose to be proud of. Of course, he knew how efficient it was to break a man's spirit by taking away his sense of accomplishment and self-respect.
But that wouldn't happen to him. He kept himself angry by thinking about Zorro and all the failed plans. Occasionally, when his bruises were bothering him more than usual, he thought back to Raymond, the vicious gleam in his eyes and that satisfied smirk that he had seen on the commander's face so often. Raymond should have been suffering like this in his place, but he had got the easy way out. That made him even more determined to make it. There had to be a reason he wasn't dead. One day he would return to San Tasco and have his revenge.
The man sat down on the edge of the fountain, exactly on the spot where he had been defeated. He ran his callused hand along the surface of the stone, lost in thought. He had thought back to that moment more times than he cared to count, going through the events over and over again. He had nearly gone insane, tormenting himself with ideas of what he could have done differently to avoid his fate. It felt very distant now.
He lifted his eyes from the stone when he heard the sound of laughter. He saw a family approaching from behind a corner. There was a husband and a wife together with four children. The oldest son was already taller than his father while the youngest child, a little girl who danced around her mother in a green dress, couldn't be older than ten.
Of all the six people, the man's eyes were drawn to the mother. She was a true beauty; her long golden hair fell around her shoulders, and she hadn't lost her figure even though she was in her forties and had given birth four times. The man couldn't see her face that far away, but there was youthful mirth in her laughter as her husband wrapped his arm around her waist.
Life had moved on without him. So many things had happened while he had been locked away. California was no longer under the Spanish Crown and had first become part of the Mexican Empire, then the Republic. Such important events, and he had missed all of it. And… and Lolita had had children.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the happy family, no matter how much it tore at his heart to see the only woman he had ever loved with another man – and he had really loved her, not just lusted after her. If he had done something differently, maybe he would be walking by her side instead of Diego, surrounded by their wonderful children. Maybe she would have learnt to love him one day if things hadn't ended like that.
"Daddy, pick me up!" the little girl said, tugging at her father's trousers.
"But Juanita. How many times do I have to tell you that you're too old and heavy?" Diego asked.
"But daddy --"
"Oh, alright, but it's your fault if I break my back," Diego said.
"You really should learn how to say no to her," Lolita pointed out.
"I'm afraid she takes too much after her mother," Diego said. He took his daughter into his arms and pretended to wobble under her weight, much to the amusement of the rest of the family.
"I'm not heavy!" Juanita protested, but it only made the others laugh harder.
The man by the fountain stood up, ready to leave. He couldn't watch this any longer, and the fountain hadn't been his final destination anyway. There were two things he had come to see in San Tasco, but only one of them was easy to find. He had to continue if he wanted to make it to his goal before nightfall.
Her hands were soft against his skin as she ran them down his chest and leaned closer to him. He had always thought that she'd feel like silk, and he had yearned to touch her in places that were meant for no other man. She belonged to him, and nobody else had the right to even think about her that way.
"Of course I was just playing hard to get," she murmured, tracing her fingers up to his neck and making him shiver. "You're the one I always wanted."
He chuckled, knowing that she was speaking the truth and glad that she had finally admitted it. Chasing her had been fun, but it was even better to finally have her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She would spend her life adoring him, and they'd become happy together.
"When you had a change of heart and started doing good deeds, I knew you were the man for me. I love you," Lolita said.
She writhed against him, and he pulled her closer, running his fingers through her long hair. Nothing could have prepared him for the happiness that was bubbling in his chest. No amount of money or glory could ever taste as sweet as Lolita's love.
A moment ago she had been naked, but now she was wearing her usual dress.
"Why are you dressed?" he asked.
"My mother sent me to town to run errands," she said.
Now they were in the streets of San Tasco and no longer in his bed. He accompanied her to the marketplace where she went to a stand that was selling vegetables. He watched how she made her choices and admired her beauty.
All of a sudden, there was a horrible rush of pain and, to his horror, he saw a long blade sticking out of his chest. He turned around and saw that it was Sergeant Gonzales with a self-satisfied grin on his face.
"I was always a better officer than you," he said snidely. His uniform changed into that of a commander. Lolita walked to Gonzales and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned closer to give the sergeant a passionate kiss on the lips.
Just as Gabriel was about to ask how she could do such a thing to him, he realised that it wasn't Sergeant Gonzales after all. It was Colonel Jekyll. Then it was Commander Raymond. He ran his hands down Lolita's sides and bit into her lip before turning into Zorro.
"Oh, Zorro," Lolita moaned, cupping his face as he leant closer and kissed her again. He became Diego in the middle of the kiss, and for some reason this angered Gabriel more than anyone else. He opened his mouth to yell at that fool to get the hell away from his woman, but then Diego turned to look at him and --
He jerked as he suddenly woke up in his cell. For a brief moment, he only stared into darkness with no idea where he was and why. Then he remembered, and he couldn't decide if the frightening ignorance would have been better or not.
Lolita, he wondered as he sat up and pressed his hands on his sweaty face. He hadn't thought much about her since he had come to prison. His mind had been too consumed by Zorro, and he had decided that remembering her only added to his pain and frustration. He had pushed her as far away from his thoughts as possible, but now it was like she had just been there with him, touching him.
He wanted to see her. He just had to see her and hear her voice again.
"Goddamit!" he cursed and pressed his forehead against the wall. He didn't want to think about things he could never have anymore. Some prisoners he talked to said the memories of their loved ones helped them cope, but to Gabriel that was only a reminder of what he had lost. That pathetic Diego was probably married to Lolita already. His Lolita!
He felt his whole body tremble with his loss, and he had to bite into his lip to keep himself from crying out. Lolita was forever lost to him. Even the sweetest revenge in the world couldn't change that.
He left the town square and started heading towards north. His apprehension grew with every step, and he wondered if it wouldn't be better to take another street and leave San Tasco when he still had the chance. Then again, he didn't know where he could have gone. He had nothing to do apart from this one thing. It was almost pathetic how this place still pulled him back after all these years.
The road was familiar, and long forgotten memories flooded his mind. He saw himself riding his horse, leading a group of soldiers on a mission or just going to town for a stroll, maybe to see Lolita. His life had been so perfect back then; he had had every chance to make the most out of it. He should have been careful and planned things better. He shouldn't have followed Raymond so blindly.
He had felt much regret over the years, but mostly because of his own pain and missed chances. No matter how many times he was hit or kicked, he never felt sorry for what he had done to others. He had no problem admitting that to himself, and he knew he wouldn't bother to lie about it if someone asked. In the past he had enjoyed tricking people into liking and trusting him, but it just served no purpose anymore.
Finally, the place he was looking for was revealed from behind two tall buildings. He stopped on his tracks, too stunned to even think for a moment. He knew it was stupid, but somehow he had been expecting the ruins to still be there even after all this time. He had caught a glimpse of the destroyed army headquarters before he had been taken elsewhere for his trial, and the image of the blackened wreckage was forever burnt in his mind.
But it wasn't there anymore. There was only a wide, rocky field with no remains of any structures whatsoever. It looked like it had been gnawed clean. He felt betrayed as he stared at the field before him.
"I came all this way for nothing," he muttered.
The sun was setting to his left. In just a few moments, it would disappear behind the horizon and leave everything shrouded in darkness, but for now the field was still covered in reddish light. He knew he should have turned away since there was nothing for him to do there, but he couldn't bring himself to move from his spot. This place had been the centre of his life for years and had sealed his fate. He just couldn't believe it was gone. He was probably the only one who even cared.
Damn all this, he thought, feeling his fists shake. How was he supposed to face the ghosts of his past if there was nothing left to see? The rush of anger was a familiar comfort, and he relished the burn it spread all over him. For a moment he felt like he was strong again and could do anything he wanted.
Suddenly, he froze when he heard a voice behind him.
"This is an odd place to visit, stranger."
He couldn't go on anymore. His arms ached so much they felt like they would fall from their sockets if he had to pick up anything else. There wasn't a single part of his body that didn't hurt, and he knew that it would never get better. He would only get new injuries faster than the old ones healed.
I can't give up like this, he thought even as he felt his knees give in under him. He fell on the ground, not caring how hot the rough sand was against his skin. He just needed a moment to rest, a little bit of time to catch his breath before he'd get back to work. Just a –
He heard the crack of the whip and screamed against the pain that exploded in his back. His body jerked, but he didn't have the energy to get back up. Another lash struck his back, and then strong arms picked him up and forced him on his feet. He swayed a little but didn't fall again.
"A strong guy like you should be able to take more," one of the soldiers said.
"Maybe we should give him some water," his companion said. Gabriel had never seen him before, so he guessed he had to be a new addition to the staff. He wanted to plead that yes, he needed water, but he couldn't will the words to come out.
"It's not time for the break yet," the first soldier replied.
"But…" the younger man said, glancing nervously at Gabriel. "What if he dies?"
His comrade just laughed. "So what? They all die anyway before they've served their sentence, and new men come in all the time," he said. He gave Gabriel a shove that almost sent him back to the ground and turned to walk away.
The other soldier remained there, staring at Gabriel with uncertain eyes. Gabriel immediately recognised the type. He was one of those naïve idiots who came to the army with high ideals and dreams of heroism. He had lost count of how many such men he had pulled down from their fantasies and crushed under his boot. And yet, now he found himself a little envious of this man, but before it could become into a real emotion that would force him to think, he turned it into anger.
"What are you looking at, you damn idiot?" he rasped at the soldier.
The soldier's face hardened and he lifted his musket a bit higher. "Get back to work at once," he said.
Gabriel did, just like he did the day after that, and the day after that. He stopped counting days and only concentrated on living through each and every one of them, no matter how painful and hopeless it was. He saw how the other men gave up and died and were replaced by newcomers. Each time he swore that he wouldn't be the next one.
His hatred for Zorro still kept him going. Every night, he made the promise that he would live to see Zorro's blood stain his hands. Over time, however, it became harder to remember all the details on Zorro's face and the exact tone he had used each time he had mocked him. Slowly but surely, the flame of his vengeance burned less and less brightly, and he had nothing with which to counter the pain and desperation he faced every day.
He became more like the others, doing his work without thought and waiting for death to come and make it all stop. There were times when he was kicked around, lashed and yelled at and still got up, no matter how much easier it would have been to give up. When others fell beside him and never got up, he struggled to his feet and glared the soldiers in the eyes. Those bastards. In the past they would have been taking orders from him and cowering before him. Like hell he was going to die at their feet.
Eventually, that thought became his only solace. He forgot about Zorro, Gonzales, Lolita and the others. People from his past rarely entered his dreams anymore; it was like there was no world outside the prison walls. His only goal was to live to see yet another terrible day, but he could no longer say what good it would do to him.
He still had over twenty years left. It was a death sentence; no man could ever make it. It was a miracle he hadn't died already.
And it was an even bigger miracle that he had made it. Most men didn't survive more than a year or two in such conditions and died long before serving their sentence. It made the whole system seem twisted; hard labour was like the death sentence, except that the death was preceded with inhuman torment.
But he had lived through it. He had always been strong, and this gave him a slight advantage to the others. His military experience helped him adapt his behaviour so that he always knew the best thing to say and do in such an environment. He managed to get some of the soldiers to like him so that they'd go easier on him.
The end had come almost without him realising it. He had grown so used to his monotonous existence that it was a shock when he was suddenly told that he had served his sentence. That he could go. He hadn't felt any real thrill about it; it was too long ago that he had been imprisoned. He had become so used to the prison that he had forgotten how to dream of freedom.
He turned around to face the man standing behind him. Years had been kind to Diego. He had gained a little weight, but he stood straight and looked just as lively and carefree as in the past. His eyes were curious and gentle as watched the man before him.
The man didn't know what to say. He hadn't wanted to talk to Diego ever again. He had always hated him for how well he got along with Lolita even though he was such a pathetic weakling. Later he had hated him even more, knowing that Diego had taken Lolita away from him. Now… He didn't know. It had been too long.
"It's my business what places I visit," he finally said.
"Oh, I didn't want to be rude. It's just that not many people come here," Diego said. He took a few steps closer and stopped to stand by his side. He nodded towards the open field. "But that's probably going to change. I hear someone just bought this spot and wants to build a theatre here."
He said nothing, so Diego turned to glance at him, still looking as insufferably friendly as always.
"I noticed you at the town square. San Tasco doesn't get that many visitors these days, so I was curious. Forgive me if I'm bothering you," he said. His tone held a question, and the man knew he'd never get out of the situation without explaining why he had come to look at a place where there was nothing.
"I used to serve in the army here," he said.
"Oh," Diego said, surprise evident in his voice. He frowned as he took a better look at his face, but the man didn't think Diego would be able to make the connection between the obnoxious and dominating lieutenant and the broken old man he saw now.
"When was that?" Diego asked. Then he shook his head, remembering where they were. "Silly me. Of course.
He continued, "We built new headquarters for the army some months after Raymond's death. At first we wanted to rebuild here, but the workers kept insisting that the commander was haunting this place."
"I hear the Governor General appointed a new commander from Spain and replaced almost all the men who had been serving here," the man remarked.
Diego shot him an odd look. "That's right. Isn't that why you had to leave?" he asked.
"You could say that."
"Well, I hope your new post was good. Most of us here never really had anything against you soldiers. We know you were just following orders," Diego said.
When he didn't reply, Diego continued in a more careful tone, "I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. We don't have to talk about the past."
"What about Zorro?" the man asked. He had asked about Zorro when he had met a group of travellers on the road, but they had never even heard of the rebel. He didn't know what to think. Zorro had been the other reason he had decided to come back to San Tasco. He had to know what had become of him.
"Zorro?" Diego repeated. He let out a hum. "I haven't heard that name in years. Zorro is no longer needed here."
Yes, the man supposed that was true. Whoever had come to rule the area after Raymond must have been chosen with utmost scrutiny. Things had probably quieted down, and everyone had had a wonderful life.
"Is he dead?" he asked.
"Who knows? Some say that he's immortal and that he'll be back if there is ever again injustice in this land," Diego said.
The man snorted. He could almost believe that of the piece of scum.
So, Zorro was gone, too. He had known that things wouldn't be the same, but somehow he had thought that Zorro would still be there. They had hated each other so much and had come close to killing each other so many times that it was an insult that he had just vanished. On the other hand, he felt relieved at that he wouldn't have to face the man again and let him see what a wreck he had become.
"By the way, I'm Diego de la Vega," Diego said, offering to shake his hand.
"I know," the man replied. He hesitated for a moment but then decided to accept Diego's offer. The fastest way to get rid of him was to be at least semi-polite and then come up with some excuse to leave.
"Oh, you recognised me. I'm afraid you have an edge over me," Diego said. He paused. "But I do think there is something familiar about you. Let me think…"
No. He didn't want to deal with that. He couldn't let Diego recognise him and see what a wreck he had become. Night had almost fallen, so he hoped the lack of light would obscure his features and that Diego hadn't grown any wiser over the years.
Thankfully, Diego's attention was stolen by the carriage that emerged from down the street. He turned to wave at Lolita, who was at the reins.
"That's my wife. I asked her to pick me up. Can I give you a ride somewhere?" Diego asked.
"No, I'm not coming back. I… have a friend who lives near by," the man said. He would never sit in the same carriage with Lolita. He just couldn't.
"Oh, alright. But be sure to stay a few days in town. I'm sure Colonel Gonzales would be happy see an old friend," Diego said. He tilted his head in thought. "I'm sure I should remember your name."
"It's not important," the man said.
"Alright, I won't force you if you want to be that stubborn," Diego said with a laugh. He waved goodbye to him and walked to the carriage where Lolita was waiting for him. She waved at him as well, but he didn't return the gesture. He watched how she turned the horses around and how they started their way back.
It was dark now. He felt exhausted after all the walking he had done that day, but that was nothing compared to how tired his mind was. It would probably be for the best to ignore the protests of his body and leave for the next town right away before he ran into someone who would actually recognise him.
With a wary sigh, he started moving and chose a direction that would quickly take him to the forest and away from San Tasco.
All this for nothing. No more army headquarters. No more Zorro. No more Lieutenant Gabriel. Had he still had a sense of humour left, he might have chuckled.
"Who was that man?" Lolita asked.
Diego leaned back with his hands crossed behind his head. "An old soldier. He used to serve here when Raymond was still our commander," he said.
"Ah," Lolita said, wrinkling her nose.
"Hey, just because he was in the army doesn't mean he's bad," Diego said.
"What was he doing there?" Lolita asked.
"I don't know. Maybe he had to sort through some things," Diego said.
"Well, I'd say it's high time to do something about it after all this time," Lolita muttered.
Diego hummed in thoughtful agreement. Many of the soldiers who had been following Raymond and Gabriel's orders had visited them in the past and apologized for what they had done. He didn't think it had been necessary, but he appreciated the gesture.
"He didn't tell me his name. I think he was scared that I might remember him and be angry at him for something he did," he mused.
He hadn't actually known that many soldiers personally, but he was sure that he should have recognised this old man. There was something about his angular face and the broad shoulders that struck a chord in him. The man had obviously been through much, but if he ignored the hunched posture and concentrated on the resilient expression in those eyes –
Wait.
"Lolita, stop the horses," he said.
"What? Why?" Lolita asked.
Diego didn't wait for her to do as he had asked. He jumped off the carriage, stumbling a little as he hit the ground. He wasn't as nimble as he had once been. He started running back to the spot where he had left the stranger and ignored Lolita's annoyed yells. There was no room for her to turn the horses around at that place in the street, so she didn't catch up with him before he had already returned to the field.
There was nobody there, as he had suspected. The sky was cloudless and it was the night of the full moon, so there was enough light for him to have an excellent view to the field where the army headquarters had once stood. Diego spent a moment staring before him, letting memories of the building's glory and decay flood his mind.
Maybe he should go after him. He was sure that he could find him. He contemplated this for a while, but he was drawing a blank at what he would say if he met him again. He hadn't even thought about him in years. They had all thought he was long dead.
"Diego! What is this nonsense? We have to get home before it gets too late!" Lolita yelled at him from where she stopped the horses.
Diego cast one last look at the field and decided to return to his wife. If Gabriel had wanted to talk to him, he would have done so. It wouldn't be fair of him to force the man into revealing himself. From the looks of it, he had been through more than Diego could even imagine.
He offered Lolita a sheepish smile as he sat down next to her.
"I'm sorry. I thought I dropped my money bag here, but it was in my pocket all the time," he said.
Lolita sighed. "You sure can be an idiot sometimes," she said.
"Well, you knew that when you married me," Diego said. He put an arm over her shoulder and let her lean close.
"Let's go home," he said.