Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and all its characters © Yasuhiro Nightow.
A/N: I'm back on the ficcing scene, people, this time with a post-manga, multi-chapter fic (many spoilers inside). It's going to be long, and it's going to take a while to write even though the plot outline is completely finished. I'm a busy little fanfic author, after all.
Warnings: Strong language, violence, disturbing situations (not that kind, you pervs!), and MAJOR SPOILERS for the end of Trigun Maximum.
Credits: Spicy-obsession (beta), Abo (the Almighty Brainstorming Monkey who pokes and prods the authoress to motivate her to write), and nicholasdwolfwood (who was kind enough to let the authoress ramble long enough to conceive a general outline for this fic).
Other: This chapter covers material from the last two installments of the manga, chapters 101 and 102.
And now...onward!
Prologue
I've always envisioned it like this.
However ridiculous that might sound I've always known our quarrels would be reduced to this clash of feathered blade on metal his sweat and blood against mine simply because he's always denied his heritage, refused to be more than those lowly lifeforms he protects, believing our similar features could somehow bridge the gap between us, but it'll never work (it can't) as long as time persists in its endless absurdities and I've told him so time and time again but he never listens, even now amidst the rain of our siblings cries and feathers nothing's changed and it never will, I see that now (clearly for the first time).
This is the end.
I didn't ask to be saved (don't need to be saved) and I tell him to kill me because there's nothing left for me because our different paths will never cross and I will never recant, never regret what I've done because I'm right and always have been (can't you see that?) about them (the humans) about her (the bitch) about everything (they deserved it don't you see?) so just fire damn you I'm not afraid just shoot—
—he fires—
But not at me.
A crackle of voided light blazing coldly rips past us both and upwards but I don't care because he's falling and there's blood and it's not mine, blood everywhere, a spray that splatters my cheeks and skin and I look up wanting to kill her (one of us) for daring to do this to him, he's mine and you won't take him you bitch he's mine!
My brother my own.
He shudders against me and I know I should be glad the bitch did the job for me, that he won't survive his wounds, I know it and he knows it I can sense that much but then—sudden—a violent jerk—
We're in the air and there're wings (his wings) and he's flying up, up and away the crazy fool what the hell is he doing? he knows he can't sustain this dammit, he knows, and I scream at him, a wing unravels and we're falling falling down—fuck it!
A wing more blade than feather sprouts from my shoulder, the strain nearly crippling me as my grip tightens fingers clutching red turned a darker red, and I feel his fingertips the strength in them fading the further we fly and I know he's dying and going to die if I don't do something—
Why should I?
I look at him, the dullness in his normally brilliant eyes, resentment of the highest order festering writhing insidiously in the pit of my stomach, threatening to bloom into full-fledged fury because he's here he's here with me (finally) after decades and years and years and decades of hiding hating and fighting but he's dying leaving me again like he hasn't caused me enough grief damn him, but...
He's mine.
And he always will be.
Hours later my joints are aching, shoulder on fire screaming for relief and he's half-dead and torn and bleeding, his power too drained to regenerate to recover as I have and I know this is the end for him and sacrifices must be made (my pride) to these wide-eyed fearful humans torn between the rodent-like impulse to flee or help as we crash, wings disintegrating and feathers scattering as everything unravels into my empty (disgusting) pleas for help because he will (must) endure because I cannot there's nothing left for me and he knows that I told him so (he'll believe) but he'll go on and do and be and say those things I could not (he'll learn) and then...
My time is over.
His color returns to normal and he's breathing slowly (evenly) not a mark on him and they stare at me with wonder and suspicion the fear strangely (infuriatingly) lacking but I let it pass I can do no more after this my last gift (the vermin have no food) for this body this soon-to-be shell has served its purpose and done all it can for the present but the future ah the future will be his thanks to me (for me) and then he'll understand...
He'll see.
Weariness cripples me scorching my bones and muscles they're untangling crumbling and soon there'll be nothing (sweet nothing) just peace and quiet until—split—fragments now, just drifting, so nice I want but need can't focus currents swirling don't fall apart no not like this no can't—hold fast!
Solid again for the moment but need rest can't stop can't—
...drift...ing...
...con...cen...trate...now!
Feel...can feel...hands everywhere...reverent...ly...cries around about...me?
Need...sisters need...robes...listen...to me!
...stop—
—light swings closed...
shut
A/N: Strange, eh? I hope everyone liked the format even though it's weird (fun to write, though). No worries, the next chapter shall be in standard third-person POV in past tense and much longer. 'Til then!