Shinigami
Author's Note:
Before you begin reading, this story will be dark, depressing, and full of angst. If you feel that you are not in the right frame of mind for this, please do not continue reading.
Duo stared at the ceiling in his room. It must have been around midnight. It was so dark that the shadows crept and danced among each other. He wondered what his life had really been about. With a sigh of anxiety, he closed his eyes and dreamed.
"Solo!" He, as a small child, called out.
"Solo!"
He was alone, and surrounded by a darkness so thick that he could only just make out the tall figure standing before him. The figure reached a slim bony hand out to him.
"He's gone home. He's with now." The figure leered, in a harsh, raspy voice.
"Won't you join us?"
Duo, his eyes filled with tears, reached out. In an instant, Death was gone and he, now a little older, found himself in Sister Helen's warm embrace. A little happier, he smiled. She let him go and stood, taking a step back so as to be even with Father Maxwell. Tears in their eyes, they waved goodbye.
"We have to go now, Duo." She told him.
Father Maxwell removed the golden cross from around his neck and placed it in Duo's palm, then closed his fingers around it.
"We'll meet again."
Duo blinked and they were gone. He found himself gripping the cross, feeling an overwhelming sadness. Again, the tears welled up in his eyes, and he cried out.
"Father Maxwell!" His eyes searched the darkness for some reply.
"Sister Helen! Come back!" He sobbed.
Again, Death heard his lament and came forth.
"Duo." He whispered.
"They're safe now." He reached his hand out once more. "Come with me and we'll visit them."
Duo leapt forward and struck the hand of Death. Death had gone again. Now at the age of fifteen, he found himself in quiet, isolated room. Looking through the glass in the door, he saw a small kitchen. At the table sat five bodies. The other four pilots and Shinigami. He couldn't make out a word they were saying. He slammed his fists again and again repeatedly on the glass, but to no avail. In desperation, he threw himself at he door. Shinigami turned his head towards Duo, removing the hood that obscured his face. Duo, for the first time, saw and recognized the face of Death. It was his own. Shinigami smirked at him and replaced his hood. In horror, Duo watched as one by one, he led the pilots away. He howled in torment as the tears streamed down his face. Turning his face upwards, he was greeted by the cold, starless night. The door opened, and Shinigami motioned for him to follow. Exasperated, Duo did as he was told.
Death led him down a dimly lit corridor and opened a door. Inside, Solo lay asleep on the floor, his body thin and face paled from his disease. Moving his eyes onward, he saw Father Maxwell and Sister Helen lying amongst the rubble of the old church, blood and grief stained their bodies. Looking on, he recognized Trowa, dressed as though he was about to perform his act. Upon a more careful inspection, he realized that he was held up by strings. Trowa was nothing more than a marionette. Quatre was leaned against a wall, dirt smudged on his face and his clothes and skin drenched with the tears of a broken heart. He saw Wufei, holding Meiran in his arms, his tears clinging to his face. Knowing his choice, he stepped into the room, but no one moved. They all seemed frozen by time. Still searching with his eyes, he smelled blood and burnt flesh. Human flesh. He quickly saw the wreckage of Gundam 01. Twisted amongst fragments of metal was the broken body of Heero. Duo dropped to his knees and wailed. He turned his back on Heero to face Death, but Death had already gone, closing the door behind him. Duo sprang at it and tried it with all his strength. It wouldn't budge. Parting his lips in dismay, he whispered in disbelief.
"I am Shinigami..."
Everyone suddenly became animate and turned their faces towards him.
"I'm sorry." He spoke softly.
"I'm so sorry!" He cried out.
They all turned away.
Duo awoke with a start. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and sat upright in his bed.
"Just a dream."
He hugged his knees to his chest and let his fingers explore his neck until he found the cross. He gripped it until his knuckles were white with pain. Letting his hand drop, he saw the slices in his skin where the sharp edges had bitten him. He let his head fall, and onto his blanket slowly dripped a mixture of blood and tears. Hearing a soft knocking at his door, he looked up. Quatre quietly entered his room and stared at him in dismay.
"Duo, are you all right? I thought I could hear you crying."
Quatre turned on the lamp next to his bed and observed him in full. He was a wreck. His long chestnut braid was disheveled, and tears were smeared with blood where he had made an attempt to wipe them from his face.
"Duo..."
Quatre sat on the edge of the bed next to him. His deep blue eyes seemed fragile and with remorse at the sight of his dear friend's condition. With some effort, Duo managed a smile.
"I'm fine, Quatre."
Quatre's eyes watered a little at Duo's attempt on bravery.
"Duo, let me help you."
With the soft sleeve of his shirt, Quatre rubbed away the majority of the tears and the blood. He placed his cool hand against Duo's feverish cheek and let his friend mourn. Quatre never spoke a word, but cried with Duo.
After Duo had cried himself to sleep, Quatre quietly slipped away. Heero would not be pleased with this when he returned home. Duo awoke with Shinigami standing beside his bed.
"What do you want." He managed with a dry throat.
The faint stench of rotting and decomposition filled the air.
"Are you ready?"
"But the others..."
"They're already waiting for you."
"How?"
"Heero self-destructed to save his mission. As a result of lost hope, Wufei took his own life, and Trowa hung himself. Quatre heart broke. You slept through everything."
Duo nodded. He closed his eyes and embraced Death, thinking the worst had finally happened.
The next morning, Heero found him lying lifeless on his bed. He had returned in the night but didn't want to wake him until morning. Approaching him carefully, he slid his hands under Duo's back and raised him slowly into an upright position.
"Duo." He whispered. "What have you done..."
As he shifted positions to hold his only friend in the world, Duo's arm slid off the bed. His fingers stretched away from the palm of his hand, and from it fell a small golden cross. Shivering from a chill only he felt, Heero bent to pick it up. The sharp edges gleamed and appeared to be rusted. Heero polished it on his arm, and the rust cracked and crumbled away. He held it to his face and received a faint odor of blood, discovering its identity. It was blood. Panic seized him and he raised Duo's arms. As he feared, streams of dried blood coursed over them. The number of cuts and abrasions seemed surreal, and on further inspection, he discovered them on all of Duo's limbs, his chest, his back, and a few on his face. Bowing his head and allowing himself to mourn, Heero tightened his grip on the golden crucifix, drawing out his own blood, and allowing it to fall and mix with Duo's. Death had claimed the one he cared so much for. Heero looked at his face and saw Duo for the first time. Not the cheerful image he had created. On his face was painted grief, paranoia, angst, fear, depression, and anxiety. With tears running from his face to Duo's, he couldn't help but wonder if he himself could have prevented Duo's demise. Heero rested Duo's head on his shoulder. He had lost his only true friend.
Author's Note:
Before you begin reading, this story will be dark, depressing, and full of angst. If you feel that you are not in the right frame of mind for this, please do not continue reading.
Duo stared at the ceiling in his room. It must have been around midnight. It was so dark that the shadows crept and danced among each other. He wondered what his life had really been about. With a sigh of anxiety, he closed his eyes and dreamed.
"Solo!" He, as a small child, called out.
"Solo!"
He was alone, and surrounded by a darkness so thick that he could only just make out the tall figure standing before him. The figure reached a slim bony hand out to him.
"He's gone home. He's with now." The figure leered, in a harsh, raspy voice.
"Won't you join us?"
Duo, his eyes filled with tears, reached out. In an instant, Death was gone and he, now a little older, found himself in Sister Helen's warm embrace. A little happier, he smiled. She let him go and stood, taking a step back so as to be even with Father Maxwell. Tears in their eyes, they waved goodbye.
"We have to go now, Duo." She told him.
Father Maxwell removed the golden cross from around his neck and placed it in Duo's palm, then closed his fingers around it.
"We'll meet again."
Duo blinked and they were gone. He found himself gripping the cross, feeling an overwhelming sadness. Again, the tears welled up in his eyes, and he cried out.
"Father Maxwell!" His eyes searched the darkness for some reply.
"Sister Helen! Come back!" He sobbed.
Again, Death heard his lament and came forth.
"Duo." He whispered.
"They're safe now." He reached his hand out once more. "Come with me and we'll visit them."
Duo leapt forward and struck the hand of Death. Death had gone again. Now at the age of fifteen, he found himself in quiet, isolated room. Looking through the glass in the door, he saw a small kitchen. At the table sat five bodies. The other four pilots and Shinigami. He couldn't make out a word they were saying. He slammed his fists again and again repeatedly on the glass, but to no avail. In desperation, he threw himself at he door. Shinigami turned his head towards Duo, removing the hood that obscured his face. Duo, for the first time, saw and recognized the face of Death. It was his own. Shinigami smirked at him and replaced his hood. In horror, Duo watched as one by one, he led the pilots away. He howled in torment as the tears streamed down his face. Turning his face upwards, he was greeted by the cold, starless night. The door opened, and Shinigami motioned for him to follow. Exasperated, Duo did as he was told.
Death led him down a dimly lit corridor and opened a door. Inside, Solo lay asleep on the floor, his body thin and face paled from his disease. Moving his eyes onward, he saw Father Maxwell and Sister Helen lying amongst the rubble of the old church, blood and grief stained their bodies. Looking on, he recognized Trowa, dressed as though he was about to perform his act. Upon a more careful inspection, he realized that he was held up by strings. Trowa was nothing more than a marionette. Quatre was leaned against a wall, dirt smudged on his face and his clothes and skin drenched with the tears of a broken heart. He saw Wufei, holding Meiran in his arms, his tears clinging to his face. Knowing his choice, he stepped into the room, but no one moved. They all seemed frozen by time. Still searching with his eyes, he smelled blood and burnt flesh. Human flesh. He quickly saw the wreckage of Gundam 01. Twisted amongst fragments of metal was the broken body of Heero. Duo dropped to his knees and wailed. He turned his back on Heero to face Death, but Death had already gone, closing the door behind him. Duo sprang at it and tried it with all his strength. It wouldn't budge. Parting his lips in dismay, he whispered in disbelief.
"I am Shinigami..."
Everyone suddenly became animate and turned their faces towards him.
"I'm sorry." He spoke softly.
"I'm so sorry!" He cried out.
They all turned away.
Duo awoke with a start. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and sat upright in his bed.
"Just a dream."
He hugged his knees to his chest and let his fingers explore his neck until he found the cross. He gripped it until his knuckles were white with pain. Letting his hand drop, he saw the slices in his skin where the sharp edges had bitten him. He let his head fall, and onto his blanket slowly dripped a mixture of blood and tears. Hearing a soft knocking at his door, he looked up. Quatre quietly entered his room and stared at him in dismay.
"Duo, are you all right? I thought I could hear you crying."
Quatre turned on the lamp next to his bed and observed him in full. He was a wreck. His long chestnut braid was disheveled, and tears were smeared with blood where he had made an attempt to wipe them from his face.
"Duo..."
Quatre sat on the edge of the bed next to him. His deep blue eyes seemed fragile and with remorse at the sight of his dear friend's condition. With some effort, Duo managed a smile.
"I'm fine, Quatre."
Quatre's eyes watered a little at Duo's attempt on bravery.
"Duo, let me help you."
With the soft sleeve of his shirt, Quatre rubbed away the majority of the tears and the blood. He placed his cool hand against Duo's feverish cheek and let his friend mourn. Quatre never spoke a word, but cried with Duo.
After Duo had cried himself to sleep, Quatre quietly slipped away. Heero would not be pleased with this when he returned home. Duo awoke with Shinigami standing beside his bed.
"What do you want." He managed with a dry throat.
The faint stench of rotting and decomposition filled the air.
"Are you ready?"
"But the others..."
"They're already waiting for you."
"How?"
"Heero self-destructed to save his mission. As a result of lost hope, Wufei took his own life, and Trowa hung himself. Quatre heart broke. You slept through everything."
Duo nodded. He closed his eyes and embraced Death, thinking the worst had finally happened.
The next morning, Heero found him lying lifeless on his bed. He had returned in the night but didn't want to wake him until morning. Approaching him carefully, he slid his hands under Duo's back and raised him slowly into an upright position.
"Duo." He whispered. "What have you done..."
As he shifted positions to hold his only friend in the world, Duo's arm slid off the bed. His fingers stretched away from the palm of his hand, and from it fell a small golden cross. Shivering from a chill only he felt, Heero bent to pick it up. The sharp edges gleamed and appeared to be rusted. Heero polished it on his arm, and the rust cracked and crumbled away. He held it to his face and received a faint odor of blood, discovering its identity. It was blood. Panic seized him and he raised Duo's arms. As he feared, streams of dried blood coursed over them. The number of cuts and abrasions seemed surreal, and on further inspection, he discovered them on all of Duo's limbs, his chest, his back, and a few on his face. Bowing his head and allowing himself to mourn, Heero tightened his grip on the golden crucifix, drawing out his own blood, and allowing it to fall and mix with Duo's. Death had claimed the one he cared so much for. Heero looked at his face and saw Duo for the first time. Not the cheerful image he had created. On his face was painted grief, paranoia, angst, fear, depression, and anxiety. With tears running from his face to Duo's, he couldn't help but wonder if he himself could have prevented Duo's demise. Heero rested Duo's head on his shoulder. He had lost his only true friend.