Disclaimer: Trigun copyright Yasuhiro Nightow, Young King Comics, and Pioneer Inc. Used without permission or profit.

Dedication: For Sakura-san's not-really-issued/take-it-up-at-your-own-risk challenge to write a fic for every couple, anime or non, that you support. And for Circe and Ed, since they're the ones who unwittingly exposed me to Trigun (the Hong Kong release).

Notes: A penta-drabble (500 words, not counting notes and title) from Vash's point of view. At the time I write this, I've only seen up to episode 14 (Itou Miki-san!). Based off scenes in episode 11. I took some liberty with Milly's lines from that because I've seen the Hong Kong release of Trigun, and the translations are a bit iffy. Not quite a get-together fic, but good enough for someone who doesn't want to mess things up too badly. Sakura-san didn't say these had to be good.

What Really Hurt Me

"Why?" You were so hurt that you limped as you approached me. "Why did you do this horrible thing?" Yet so angry, at me, at the world, it didn't matter, and you probably didn't know which it was, anyway. "How could you?" Then you drew back and punched me with … less than everything you have. I hoped, even as my glasses fell, I hoped it was because you didn't really believe that I had done what it seemed I had. I knew you did, though. That wasn't the first time you'd shown how deeply the legend of 'The Humanoid Typhoon' had got into you.

Everyone believes those rumors, I know. It didn't bother me before. Trouble has followed me for so long that I really am Trouble now. We've all seen how people panic when they think I'm in town; it doesn't matter that I haven't done as much as sneeze, they panic, things happen, and before anyone can blink, Vash the Stampede has destroyed another town.

But now it bothers me that you believe. When I think about it, it bothers me. Maybe you didn't hit me with all the force you have because you didn't want to hurt me, no matter how much I'd just hurt you. And I did hurt you; you didn't know they were okay. It doesn't matter that Julius and Moore are okay because, for you, for a few awful minutes, they were dead and nothing and no one can take those minutes of belief away. They will always be dead for those few minutes. I deserved to be hit as hard as you could, and I know you could have hit harder. I didn't even have a black eye, though that could have been the ice.

I don't understand you. You've always been so friendly, so trusting. Even when you had no proof I wasn't worth every cent of that $$60 billion, you would wave cheerfully and call out a lively hello. Do you know that you're the only person to believe from the first that I'm the real Vash? Probably not and it doesn't make a difference; you believed it and you were kind to me. Before that day, you laughed to see me drinking with strangers, wrestling with kids, at whatever predicament I could get into. You saved my life more than once. You watched me do good things and knew that I did them because I wanted to help. Still you assumed I was capable of killing those kids. Worse, you believed that I had done it in cold blood, under contract, for money. Maybe you thought that I just didn't understand the situation, maybe you thought I'd been lied to, whatever you thought you still believed I'd done it.

That punch hurt worse than if you'd hit me with all your strength, because you did it. More than that, much more than that, it hurt that you believed enough to hit me. Then, worst of all, you cried.