Okay, well, this is my first attempt at something that even resembles a Trigun fic, so please, no flames, because I will just use them to make fire, go back in time to when humans first evolved, sell the fire, make a fortune..... Wait a tic. Erm, forget I said that. Silly me. Neanderthals didnae have money. Alright, so yep.
Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, because if I did, I'd continue the series. *screams in vain* WHY, NIGHTOW? WHY WON'T YOU CONTINUE?
*ahem* Anyhoo. Here t'is, me fanfic. By the way, this story is an angst, 'cause I love angst, and it takes place in the Trigun universe, maybe a year after the series ended, although no timezone is specified and not important unless I decided to do a sequel in Vash's POV (review & tell me if I should), but the only character that actually appears in Trigun and also appears in my story is Vash. *glomp* The narrator, Naomi, is my own character, and so is the plot, but that's it. So, enjoy, and please R&R!!
*puts portable confessional on head* Now if you'll 'scuse me....
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Smoke rises slowly from the gun barrel that is glinting in the sun. It curls up in shapely patterns and joins the fluffy clouds in the clear blue sky. After the loud bang that resonated from my weapon, there is silence on the street. Silence across the desert, as far as I can tell.
I stare in shock at the silver killing machine that I grip tightly with two hands, and then at the person who the gun is pointing at.
His eyes are wide, in disbelief, and in pain, as he clutches his chest where the bullet went through him. He cannot believe what I have done, and quite frankly, neither can I.
I remember vaguely what caused this to happen. I was on my way to the general store to get some milk, a teenage girl innocently on an errand. At the time, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
I was mistaken.
Earlier that day, I had found a loaded pistol in the stable where I worked part time. I wondered why on earth someone would keep an armed weapon in a tack room, but I was curious, so I slipped it into my bag to show my friends later.
I was still wearing my bag when my mother sent me to get the milk. I had mostly forgotten about the gun, until, on the way to the store, I felt a rough hand grab me by the arm and twist it harshly.
"C'mon, kid, I know you saw what me and my pals did a few weeks back," the man who was gripping my arm said, his voice cutting through me like the metal on his leather gloves that was cutting into my arm. "You saw us, and don't think I'm stupid enough to not know it was you. You think you're pretty clever, eh? Getting away and goin' to tell the feds what we were up to?" I was confused, and terrified, as to what he meant.
"I...I don't know what you're talking about," I cried in terror, and it was the truth. He must have had me mistaken with someone else...some other poor girl who had witnessed a crime of some sort.
The few people who were out on the street stopped and stared at the scene.
"Shut up!" he snarled, and whipped out a knife. Pressing it against my throat, he whispered, "Don't you try and play games with me, or you'll pay for it with your life. Who did you tell?! WHO?!"
I choked back a sob and suddenly remembered the pistol in my bag. Without thinking, I groped for it, and my fingers closed around the handle. I pushed the man away with my foot with a sudden burst of strength, and aimed the gun at his heart, my finger on the trigger. "Leave me alone!" I screamed.
The man lurched forward in rage, and an unknown force squeezed my finger. A loud blast that would forever haunt me sounded throughout the town.
And now, here I am, staring at the man as he gapes in horror at me, blood seeping through his shirt. He utters one word, "You...", and then falls to the ground.
The pistol drops to the dusty ground with a thud, just as the man hits the dirt. I am shaking uncontrollably, and I feel a few small drops of water slide down my cheeks.
"I....I....didn't mean to..." I whispered. I stare at my hands, unable to believe that they held the horrible weapon that killed the man. "No....please let this not be real..."
As a few of the people watching mutter to themselves, I continue to stare at the body on the ground, and a sudden voice in my memory speaks. "No one has the right to take the life of another..." the voice says, and I am reminded of the man who spoke these words.
The man, who came to the town only a few years ago, unknown by everyone, rescued me from almost certain death by a loose thomas at the stables. He was the man who I befriended, and taught me many lessons that I would never forget. His red duster coat, his blonde spikey hair, his tall figure compared to my small size, everything, I begin to remember as I hear his voice in my mind.
"No one has the right to take the life of another..."
I fall to my knees, remembering his words, remembering how much I took them to heart, remembering how much he meant to me. I remember the day he left the town. I remember how I cried "Vash-san, come back soon!" as the sandsteamer pulled away with him on it, and his false smile and sad eyes, and his words, "I'll try, Naomi-chan...."
I remember all of this as I stare in utter horror at what I have done to the man. I had no right to kill him, and even though he would have killed me, there had to be another way....
I am barely aware of a few townspeople coming over to comfort me, as I kneel in the dust and sob silently.
"Vash..." I whisper. "I took a life....you will not be able to forgive me....I'm so sorry....."
I barely notice the man in red kneeling beside me, putting his arms around me and gently lifting me to my feet. Trembling, I gaze upward, and look into the green eyes of the person I broke my promise to.
"Vash-san..."
"It'll be alright," he says quietly. His arms pull me close, and I continue to sob into his coat.
I don't know if he will forgive me for taking the life of another. I don't think I deserve his forgiveness. Even if he ever does forgive me, I vow silently, I will never forgive myself.
Never.
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Sequel in Vash's POV mebee? Review and tell me if you think I should. Maybe I'll squeeze another character in as well, if you ask nicely.
Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, because if I did, I'd continue the series. *screams in vain* WHY, NIGHTOW? WHY WON'T YOU CONTINUE?
*ahem* Anyhoo. Here t'is, me fanfic. By the way, this story is an angst, 'cause I love angst, and it takes place in the Trigun universe, maybe a year after the series ended, although no timezone is specified and not important unless I decided to do a sequel in Vash's POV (review & tell me if I should), but the only character that actually appears in Trigun and also appears in my story is Vash. *glomp* The narrator, Naomi, is my own character, and so is the plot, but that's it. So, enjoy, and please R&R!!
*puts portable confessional on head* Now if you'll 'scuse me....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Smoke rises slowly from the gun barrel that is glinting in the sun. It curls up in shapely patterns and joins the fluffy clouds in the clear blue sky. After the loud bang that resonated from my weapon, there is silence on the street. Silence across the desert, as far as I can tell.
I stare in shock at the silver killing machine that I grip tightly with two hands, and then at the person who the gun is pointing at.
His eyes are wide, in disbelief, and in pain, as he clutches his chest where the bullet went through him. He cannot believe what I have done, and quite frankly, neither can I.
I remember vaguely what caused this to happen. I was on my way to the general store to get some milk, a teenage girl innocently on an errand. At the time, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
I was mistaken.
Earlier that day, I had found a loaded pistol in the stable where I worked part time. I wondered why on earth someone would keep an armed weapon in a tack room, but I was curious, so I slipped it into my bag to show my friends later.
I was still wearing my bag when my mother sent me to get the milk. I had mostly forgotten about the gun, until, on the way to the store, I felt a rough hand grab me by the arm and twist it harshly.
"C'mon, kid, I know you saw what me and my pals did a few weeks back," the man who was gripping my arm said, his voice cutting through me like the metal on his leather gloves that was cutting into my arm. "You saw us, and don't think I'm stupid enough to not know it was you. You think you're pretty clever, eh? Getting away and goin' to tell the feds what we were up to?" I was confused, and terrified, as to what he meant.
"I...I don't know what you're talking about," I cried in terror, and it was the truth. He must have had me mistaken with someone else...some other poor girl who had witnessed a crime of some sort.
The few people who were out on the street stopped and stared at the scene.
"Shut up!" he snarled, and whipped out a knife. Pressing it against my throat, he whispered, "Don't you try and play games with me, or you'll pay for it with your life. Who did you tell?! WHO?!"
I choked back a sob and suddenly remembered the pistol in my bag. Without thinking, I groped for it, and my fingers closed around the handle. I pushed the man away with my foot with a sudden burst of strength, and aimed the gun at his heart, my finger on the trigger. "Leave me alone!" I screamed.
The man lurched forward in rage, and an unknown force squeezed my finger. A loud blast that would forever haunt me sounded throughout the town.
And now, here I am, staring at the man as he gapes in horror at me, blood seeping through his shirt. He utters one word, "You...", and then falls to the ground.
The pistol drops to the dusty ground with a thud, just as the man hits the dirt. I am shaking uncontrollably, and I feel a few small drops of water slide down my cheeks.
"I....I....didn't mean to..." I whispered. I stare at my hands, unable to believe that they held the horrible weapon that killed the man. "No....please let this not be real..."
As a few of the people watching mutter to themselves, I continue to stare at the body on the ground, and a sudden voice in my memory speaks. "No one has the right to take the life of another..." the voice says, and I am reminded of the man who spoke these words.
The man, who came to the town only a few years ago, unknown by everyone, rescued me from almost certain death by a loose thomas at the stables. He was the man who I befriended, and taught me many lessons that I would never forget. His red duster coat, his blonde spikey hair, his tall figure compared to my small size, everything, I begin to remember as I hear his voice in my mind.
"No one has the right to take the life of another..."
I fall to my knees, remembering his words, remembering how much I took them to heart, remembering how much he meant to me. I remember the day he left the town. I remember how I cried "Vash-san, come back soon!" as the sandsteamer pulled away with him on it, and his false smile and sad eyes, and his words, "I'll try, Naomi-chan...."
I remember all of this as I stare in utter horror at what I have done to the man. I had no right to kill him, and even though he would have killed me, there had to be another way....
I am barely aware of a few townspeople coming over to comfort me, as I kneel in the dust and sob silently.
"Vash..." I whisper. "I took a life....you will not be able to forgive me....I'm so sorry....."
I barely notice the man in red kneeling beside me, putting his arms around me and gently lifting me to my feet. Trembling, I gaze upward, and look into the green eyes of the person I broke my promise to.
"Vash-san..."
"It'll be alright," he says quietly. His arms pull me close, and I continue to sob into his coat.
I don't know if he will forgive me for taking the life of another. I don't think I deserve his forgiveness. Even if he ever does forgive me, I vow silently, I will never forgive myself.
Never.
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Sequel in Vash's POV mebee? Review and tell me if you think I should. Maybe I'll squeeze another character in as well, if you ask nicely.
