Disclaimers: Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow. I don't own anything related to Trigun except this fic.
A/N: This story takes place shortly after the first separation of the Plant twins. There are OCs abound, which is inevitable considering that most of the Trigun cast haven't even been born at this time. Reviews are much appreciated. Thanks for reading.
Early DaysA Trigun Fanfiction by ntc
Part 1: Kindness of StrangersThe egg was perched steadily on the barrel of the well-oiled gun. It had been an exercise he went through every morning for as long as he could remember until it was almost second nature to him. Holstering and drawing that same gun with lightning speed, the egg had barely begun its descent before it was once again balanced neatly on his pistol. The egg didn't even wobble. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. It felt good to know that he hadn't lost his touch after so many years. The trick to the whole act was concentration. Concentration and...
"ALEX! GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS DOWN HERE THIS MINUTE!" boomed a thunderous voice through the floorboards underneath.
The egg wobbled, tilted and plunged. With a cry that sounded close to a squeak, the man holding the pistol made a desperate grab for the egg before it could...
Splat.
Slimy ooze was soon soaked up hungrily by the bone-dry floorboards. The matron would flay him alive for this for sure. Why must he use eggs for this exercise anyway? It looked damned impressive, but he had no audience to impress! A pebble or a bullet would have sufficed. Damn him and his love for theatrics. With a speed that had served him well in the past, he quickly hid his wrapped gun under the mattress and scoured his rented room for a rag. The top priority was to get rid of the evidence before she could suspect anything. A stain remained despite his best efforts and he grabbed one of his unwashed shirts from the chair and dumped it on the floor as a cover. That would buy him some time. If he was lucky, the stain would fade a bit as it dried.
Not a moment too soon either. The door to his room banged open and a middle-aged large woman (with more muscle than fat, really) strode into the room bearing a look of utmost displeasure. She would have looked less threatening if it wasn't for the rolling pin she was waving about in one of her meaty hands. With two fingers on her other hand, she jabbed his chest as if she were driving a hot poker into a block of ice. He winced, more from the dread of what was about to happen than from the actual pain. He tried to defuse some of the wrath by flashing the matron his pearly whites.
"Good morning, ma'am." He bowed, letting his loose tawny-fair locks fall over to obscure the look of guilt in his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your-"
The matron rolled her eyes in poorly concealed vexation. "Oh, enough of that sophisticated crap already. It really doesn't suit you."
The tall man straightened up and ran a hand over his three-day beard stubble. "You're right," he admitted. The rumpled, slept-in shirt he wore also effectively negated whatever effect he was trying to achieve with his gentlemanly mannerisms. "So, tell me why you barged in here like a mad woma-"
The rolling pin connected with the back of his head with practised precision. "And I won't put up with none of your cheek either. You forgot to buy the baking soda yesterday like I told you to, didn't you?"
Rubbing the swelling lump on his occiput, he whimpered, "That really wasn't necessary, ma'am."
"Did you or did you not forget to buy the baking soda?"
"Yes, but that's still no reason to-"
"Then it was necessary." She huffed and crossed her arms over her bosom. "Now go downstairs before your breakfast gets cold. And I expect you to run over to Nelly's store and back here with that baking soda within the hour. We have responsibilities towards our customers after all."
"Yes ma'am," said Alex, his face lighting up in a high-wattage grin at the mention of food.
She glanced around the room and frowned at the pile of clothing she saw on the floor as if it had affronted her personally. "And do try to keep this room in a more tidy state. I wouldn't want to pick up after your messes, you know."
"I wouldn't too, ma'am."
xXxXxXx
Two sacks of 'dough-softeners', as he called them, were held closely to his chest as he trudged back from the store. Old Man Nelly had merely cackled with glee when he, in an attempt to gain some sympathy, shared the tale of his rough treatment under the matron that morning. You'd think that people in general would mellow with age, and would not inflict pain and find amusement in it later.
As he turned into a small alley leading towards the back door of the bakery, he caught sight of someone huddled next to the trash cans. A closer look revealed the huddled figure to be a boy, probably in his late teens, who was wrapped in a dirty ragged blanket. The boy's hair drooped downwards, mirroring the melancholy vibes that radiated off the boy in palpable waves.
He tried to strike up a conversation. "Yo, kiddo."
The boy looked up for a moment and Alex nearly swore. There were several ugly bruises on what would have been an almost handsome face (Not as handsome as his, of course, but still). Dried blood had congealed on the corner of a split lip and there were definitely bloodstains on that brown blanket the boy was using to cover himself. The thugs who were capable of this atrocious act deserved to be stampeded by a herd of tomas. Not acknowledging Alex's greeting, the boy bowed his head to study his own knees.
Alex knew he should leave the matter well enough alone. He didn't want trouble, and anyone who would get beaten up to that degree must be a magnet for trouble of the greatest proportions. But his damned compassion overruled his calculative mind once again. "I won't ask you any awkward questions. Would you like to come in and have those wounds of yours tended?"
He expected another icy silence but the boy surprised him by speaking up. "There's no need for that. I'm alright." The voice sounded young, and held no trace of fear.
"Yeah, right," snorted Alex. "Then how do you explain those bloodstains on you?"
There was a pause before the boy replied hesitantly, "It's not my blood."
Alex eyes grew slightly wider at that, but before he could enquire further, the back door swung open and knocked him on to the ground. One sack of dough-softener landed his head whilst the other went sailing towards the boy. He was about to shout out a warning to the boy about the projectile headed his way when he saw a slim hand shoot out and grab the five-kilo sack in mid-air. The boy's arm was held as steady as a statue, almost as if the weight of the sack did not bother him in the least.
He did not have time to marvel at this for long, for the matron stood in his line of sight and glared down at him. "I heard you back here for a while now. What's taking you so long to get inside?"
Alex wordlessly pointed at the boy behind her. The matron turned around and gasped at what she saw. Maternal instincts took over and she rushed towards the boy. She took the sack from the boy's hand and negligently tossed it towards Alex, who deftly caught it before it could break his nose.
"Young man, who did this to you?" Somehow sensing the boy's reticence, the matron continued without waiting for the answer. "It doesn't matter. Come in. You look like what the Kuro cats had dragged in and I would not allow anyone to go on an empty stomach on my premises."
"It's not necessary..." The boy looked somewhat embarrassed to be the recipient of so much motherly fussing all of a sudden.
"Do you or do you not have an empty stomach?"
"Yeah, but..."
She cut off any impending arguments. "Then it is necessary."
There was a sense of déjà vu to the whole scene and Alex chuckled quietly. He had yet to see anyone successfully defy the matron's wishes. Sure enough, the boy was soon ushered into the bakery. He picked the sacks and was about to follow when a thought occurred to him. He dropped one sack on the ground and held up the other with one fully extended arm. His arm trembled from the strain after a few seconds.
Interesting. Either he was very out of shape or the boy was much stronger than he appeared to be. The boy's last statement before their conversation was interrupted echoed in his mind and he tried to suppress a shiver. The matron was too trusting sometimes. And it would be up to him to make sure that her kindness would not be something that she would come to regret later.
xXxXxXx
"Ow.. OwOwOwOw!"
Undaunted, Alex did not cease his wound-cleaning task. "Buck up and take it like a man! I bet you didn't make half as much noise when you were receiving those bruises."
The boy looked at him steadily for a few moments before grimacing from the sting of the antiseptic that was applied to his cheek. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, am I wrong?"
"No." The boy smiled tentatively. "But that was because I knew that doing so would only make my attackers bolder and more vicious. You, on the other hand, had become more and more gentle in your ministrations the more I yelped."
Alex's hand faltered for a moment before it resumed its work in a considerably less gentle manner, causing the yelps to increase in volume. Yelps which he pointedly ignored this time. There was a certain naivety to the boy's speech and demeanour, like that of a twelve-year-old. The boy's physique, however, was nearly that of an adult's. It was a most puzzling combination.
"Just who were these attackers of yours anyway? What did they want?" asked Alex.
The boy tensed and appeared to debate over whether to answer him.
The silence was stretching into awkward proportions. "Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to..."
"They were bandits, nothing more." The boy began an intense study of the floorboards. "I gave them all the money, rations and water that I had. I didn't even fight back when they were kicking me around. But when they tried to snatch away... some things that are important to me... I… I didn't know what came over me. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Not them, and especially not..." The boy gritted his teeth and fell silent.
Damn. The boy was on the verge of tears thanks to his inquisitive prying. Alex searched around for a tissue and upon finding none within reach, he offered up his apron instead. A wet, honking blow of the nose into the apron made Alex cringe but he felt that he deserved it. He would just have to wash the apron thoroughly later.
"There. It's done," said Alex as he slapped on a final plaster on the boy's face. Seeing the distress he had caused the youngster, he refrained from asking any more questions. At least the boy was able to defend himself in the end. Having heard more than enough sickening tales of what some of the bandits around the area were capable of, Alex was relieved that the boy had not received anything more than superficial wounds.
The boy examined himself in the mirror and grimaced. He turned towards Alex and nodded in a grateful gesture. "Thank you. You and Mrs. Thompson have been most kind." Without another word, the boy retrieved his backpack and trod towards the exit.
Blowing out a gust of wind, Alex made his decision. "Hey, kiddo. Where do you think you're going?"
The boy cast a questioning glance over his shoulder.
Alex smirked unabashedly. "You haven't tasted my world-famous doughnuts yet. They'll be ready in an hour. I still need to knead the dough and fry them first."
"Doughnuts?"
"They're sugar-coated pastries with a hole at the centre. Don't tell me you haven't eaten them before."
"I haven't."
Alex's lower jaw sagged until it almost reached the floor. Yup, he was definitely a sucker for theatrics. "You don't know what you're missing! Stay right here and don't you move until those doughnuts are ready. They're addictive, I tell you! You wouldn't be able to stop after eating just one."
The boy's eyebrows furrowed as he pondered over this information. "But isn't addiction a bad thing?"
"There's bad addiction, and there's good addiction," declared Alex while bobbing his head for emphasis. "Bad addiction is something like... um... smoking cigarettes. You get yellowed teeth, bad breath and not to mention tarry lungs from it. As for good addiction, it makes you feel good, but in a less destructive way. For example, beer- which you really should try one day, mind you- pours down your throat like the sweetest of... Ow!" Alex didn't even notice the matron looming behind him with her ever-present rolling pin.
"I would not standby and watch you corrupt this young man further with your undesirable habits!" she proclaimed, a crusader of good morals and behaviour.
"There's no harm in learning to live a little, ma'am," protested Alex weakly. "I was just offering him the chance to try out some of my doughnuts."
"Oh? I distinctly heard you say something about cigarettes and beer." Pivoting on a heel, she turned her back on him and directed her attention at the boy. "And you, young man, were about to leave without saying goodbye to me. That's just plain bad manners."
Guilt and panic skittered across the boy's face. "I... I'm sorry, Mrs. Thompson. I just thought I should leave before... before..."
"I'll have none of your excuses. As punishment, you are to remain here for the rest of the day. Now go wash yourself in the bathroom upstairs and get changed into something that isn't coated with five layers of sand. I've left a couple of shirts and pants for you by the sink. You're about my son's size, so there shouldn't be any problems."
"But..." The boy's objections didn't get much further than the occasional 'but' as he was shooed up the stairs. The matron even made sure that the water was running before she came back down to the kitchen.
Alex could not help but grin fondly at her. "Ma'am, I'd kiss you if I wouldn't get walloped for it."
The matron mock-scowled at him. "Don't you dare. It's bad enough that you flirt with anything in a skirt that steps into this place."
"Do I sense jealousy, ma'am?"
"Just get back to work, Alex. Don't make me hit you a third time."
xXxXxXx
At the outskirts of the small town of Carcasses, a group of hulking figures were gathered within a ring of parked jeeps. All of them carried an air of deadly purpose. One of the scouts who were sent out earlier had returned and was reporting excitedly. "There's no mistake! The tracks lead towards the town. The runt must be hiding there somewhere."
Among the group were four heavily bandaged men who looked especially pleased upon hearing the news, their mouths twisting in malicious anticipation. An animated discussion soon broke out about what they would do once they got their hands on the kid who was responsible for their injured bodies and pride.
Useless cowards, the lot of them. Expecting the rest of the gang to wipe their asses clean after the mess they had made. They didn't even have the guts to seek vengeance on their own. However, the reputation of the Dalton Gang was at stake, and there was no choice but to give another live demonstration of the horrible consequences of going against them. The leader of the bandits tried not to let the disgust he was feeling show on his face. "Are there any law enforcers in the town?"
"Nope, the population is too small to warrant the need for a sheriff."
That certainly made things easier. Not much had changed since they had last paid a visit to the town five years ago. "Ethan." The bandit leader addressed his second-in-command. "I want you to choose fifteen men and remain with the jeeps. Include those who are injured in your group. Then I want you to surround the town and make sure our quarry doesn't escape. The rest of you get ready and follow me."
xXxXxXx
Alex watched in fascination as the boy gulped down one doughtnut after another, not showing any signs of slowing down despite having had six of them already. Had he created a monster? The boy was fast becoming an even greater doughtnut-addict than him right before his very eyes. However, anything that could bring a cheerful smile to that bruised face was worth it.
"Hey, kiddo. You still haven't told me your name."
The boy paused to lick the powdered sugar off his lips before replying. "I'm Vash. Vash Saverem."
(To be continued)
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N: So as to clear up any confusion, the Alex in this story is an OC. I'm well aware that the name 'Alex' was Vash's alias at one point in time, and also the name of Rem's significant other. However, 'Alex' is such a common name that it's highly likely that some other human shared that same name too. Besides, I wanted to confuse you readers on purpose, that's why the name was chosen :D As for whether the Mrs. Thompson in this story is an ancestress or distant relative of our angelic insurance girl Milly Thompson, I'll leave that for you readers to decide.
I'm now working on the second part of the story and hopefully I'll be able to put it up in a week or two. Till next time then.