He looked out, across the once-raging battlefield, onto what was now a silent graveyard littered with the
remains of destroyed mobile suits and their pilots. Gingerly he made his way out into the midst of the
remnants, hoping to find something, anything.
But there was nothing to be found, except for several scattered pieces, a few sacrificed lives. This image of
death meant nothing to the people who fought the war, this place forgotten in a cloud of vanquished
memories. These were the memories the people wanted to forget...how glorious can a battle pretend to be,
if the remains are present to remind them of the mistakes they made, of the people they killed?
The boy stopped, his cinnamon-colored hair blowing forcefully in the strong breeze. He turned to face it,
raising his arms level with the ground as the wind engulfed him, giving him the sensation of flying, free
of any pain and heartache. He closed his eyes, trying to forget...
This last battle had been his worst. His friends were nearly killed because of his impromptu actions,
hardly escaping the scene with their lives, receiving excessive injuries...all because of him. If they died, it
would be his fault.
"Not anymore, Duo," he said to himself. "This won't happen again. I quit! I can't do this anymore." Duo
wanted to cry, but stopped himself, and quickly wiped away the tears that had already welled up in his
eyes. He couldn't cry; he wouldn't allow himself to relieve his pain in such a manner. A quiet voice inside
him whispered 'Coward' tauntingly.
Duo looked at the darkening sky, feeling utterly defeated. The calming rain that began to fall trickled
down his face, and made his shirt stick to his back. He was alone...and for once, Duo couldn't think of a
joke.
This thought only served to hurt him more...the others counted on him for his humor, even if, at times,
they seemed annoyed by it...just as they did Heero, for his bravery and leadership, Quatre for his kindness,
Trowa and Wufei...
But because of him, they might never again fight another battle...if they each lost the one to survive. OZ
would take over, and oppress the entire nation with its dictatorship, causing thousands to suffer, and
hundreds their lives.
And Duo found himself indifferent. He had disowned the fight. Someone else could risk their life,
everything they have...just for a ridiculous war. The earth didn't need him anymore. Vaguely, he thought
of suicide, just ending it all. He brushed the idea away...it didn't seem to fit him...Then again, what did
now? He could see the self-detonation switch to Death Scythe just to the left of his hand, waiting to be
activated...
It was a second before Duo remembered he was still on the ground, not inside the massive giant of
destruction he called his friend. Contempt possessively creeped into his soul...this was the end of the God
of Death. Shinigami was no longer his identity, a name he could hide his fear, his pain, his doubt, behind.
But still...he knew he could never rid himself of it completely.
His hand reached up to grasp the gold cross downcast from the chain around his neck, his sole possession
from his childhood at the Maxwell Church. It was cold and hard against his palm. He stared at the ground
sadly, remembering how he had failed to save them...the only ones who ever cared for him, and he had
failed them. His 'mom' and Father Maxwell...even the others who treated him with the kindness he was so
unaccustomed to...he had let them all die at the hands of the enemy.
But now, he was no longer in the fight; he had no more will or reason to fight. It was over for him.
Duo slowly gathered himself together and shuffled off the battlefield; he didn't belong there. He didn't
belong anywhere and he had no where to go. What he once called home had been destroyed years ago.
For how long he wandered across that field of death, he had no idea, nor was he aware that he was still
there. Not until he lifted his head, sensing a familiar presence, did he realize where he was. Standing
before him was a machine that towered over his head. He almost had to lean back to see it all. But he was
not alarmed--his friend stood before him: the Gundam Death Scythe.
The Gundam stood silently, patiently...almost as if awaiting its pilot's next move. Duo had to admire it for
what it was worth--this thing had been his only means for fighting during the war, not to mention his only
reliable friend for quite some time before he met his other Gundam pilot allies.
Now, it was only a symbol of death and destruction, a reminder of his life as the God of Death. He didn't
want to remember that life. He knew he'd never forget it as long as Gundam Death Scythe was there...and
he knew what he had to do. As much as he hated it, he had to destroy his friend.
There was also the colonies to think about. As long as the Gundams were around, someone might take
them. If they fell into the wrong hands, they'd have another war to deal with, and there had always been
that rumor: He who sees a Gundam and fights will not live to tell about it. Being a Gundam pilot was no
exception--Duo had fought against Gundams before, and even though the pilot was not Heero Yuy, Quatre
Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton or Wufei Chang, he had come uncomfortably close to death every time.
The Gundams were dangerous, with or without their respective pilots. Now that the war was over for Duo,
they were not needed...and better off destroyed.
Looking at his Gundam, Duo smiled. He was going to miss it, no matter if it was better off gone, no
matter if it was dangerous. Suddenly sentimental, he found tears welling up in his eyes once more. He
simply let them fall this time. It didn't matter to him if he cried or not. And who knew? Maybe that was
what he needed to do, given the present situation.
The Gundam seemed sad too, as if it could read its pilot's thoughts. It suddenly knelt down and extended a
hand, offering a shelter from the rains.
Duo gladly accepted, not afraid of the Gundam despite its independent actions. He crawled into Death
Scythe's open hand and let the machine lift him up to its open cockpit doors, where he climbed inside and
closed them. He strapped himself in the seat and placed his hands on the control levers. Almost
unconsciously, his hand moved down to another control: A single stick with a small red button on one end
and a wire connecting the stick to the control panel in front of him.
He realized he was holding the self-detonation device. Duo looked at it sadly. Maybe this was for the best.
It would destroy the Gundam. Wasn't that what he wanted? Wasn't that what the entire world and the
colonies wanted?
But, it would take him down with it. Did it matter if he lived? If his friends died, it was all his fault. If
they lived, they could go on fighting...and he might endanger thier lives again. What if next time, they
didn't survive? He couldn't let that happen again.
But what if he lived? Heero had tried to self-detonate once, but later, Duo met him again, alive and well.
If he lived, would he be able to stand himself then?
It was worth a try. Humanity didn't need him any longer. All he could ever do was fight. That had been
his only real use, fighting.
He could never rid himself of Shinigami. It had become a part of who he was over time. With all of
humanity living in total pacifism, where was need for his fighting or Shinigami? What was left for him
now but his own destruction?
And then he made up him mind.
He sat in his seat, tears streaming down him face, holding onto the device that would end it all. Silently,
he pleaded for forgiveness.
"Well, Death Scythe....Looks like this is it, old buddy."
The Gundam gave a silent reply, one that only its pilot could hear. Duo smiled, but it didn't last long.
Moments later, he was staring out at the battle field once more.
His tears never once let up as he gave a silent apology to his friends, the ones he'd fought a war for, those
he'd let die at the hands of his enemy...
His thumb moved up the self-detonation switch, and rested on the button. Duo leaned back in his seat,
closed his eyes, and let his thumb press the red button...Warning signals blared from the Gundam.
Seconds later, a tremendous explosion rocked the area...
remains of destroyed mobile suits and their pilots. Gingerly he made his way out into the midst of the
remnants, hoping to find something, anything.
But there was nothing to be found, except for several scattered pieces, a few sacrificed lives. This image of
death meant nothing to the people who fought the war, this place forgotten in a cloud of vanquished
memories. These were the memories the people wanted to forget...how glorious can a battle pretend to be,
if the remains are present to remind them of the mistakes they made, of the people they killed?
The boy stopped, his cinnamon-colored hair blowing forcefully in the strong breeze. He turned to face it,
raising his arms level with the ground as the wind engulfed him, giving him the sensation of flying, free
of any pain and heartache. He closed his eyes, trying to forget...
This last battle had been his worst. His friends were nearly killed because of his impromptu actions,
hardly escaping the scene with their lives, receiving excessive injuries...all because of him. If they died, it
would be his fault.
"Not anymore, Duo," he said to himself. "This won't happen again. I quit! I can't do this anymore." Duo
wanted to cry, but stopped himself, and quickly wiped away the tears that had already welled up in his
eyes. He couldn't cry; he wouldn't allow himself to relieve his pain in such a manner. A quiet voice inside
him whispered 'Coward' tauntingly.
Duo looked at the darkening sky, feeling utterly defeated. The calming rain that began to fall trickled
down his face, and made his shirt stick to his back. He was alone...and for once, Duo couldn't think of a
joke.
This thought only served to hurt him more...the others counted on him for his humor, even if, at times,
they seemed annoyed by it...just as they did Heero, for his bravery and leadership, Quatre for his kindness,
Trowa and Wufei...
But because of him, they might never again fight another battle...if they each lost the one to survive. OZ
would take over, and oppress the entire nation with its dictatorship, causing thousands to suffer, and
hundreds their lives.
And Duo found himself indifferent. He had disowned the fight. Someone else could risk their life,
everything they have...just for a ridiculous war. The earth didn't need him anymore. Vaguely, he thought
of suicide, just ending it all. He brushed the idea away...it didn't seem to fit him...Then again, what did
now? He could see the self-detonation switch to Death Scythe just to the left of his hand, waiting to be
activated...
It was a second before Duo remembered he was still on the ground, not inside the massive giant of
destruction he called his friend. Contempt possessively creeped into his soul...this was the end of the God
of Death. Shinigami was no longer his identity, a name he could hide his fear, his pain, his doubt, behind.
But still...he knew he could never rid himself of it completely.
His hand reached up to grasp the gold cross downcast from the chain around his neck, his sole possession
from his childhood at the Maxwell Church. It was cold and hard against his palm. He stared at the ground
sadly, remembering how he had failed to save them...the only ones who ever cared for him, and he had
failed them. His 'mom' and Father Maxwell...even the others who treated him with the kindness he was so
unaccustomed to...he had let them all die at the hands of the enemy.
But now, he was no longer in the fight; he had no more will or reason to fight. It was over for him.
Duo slowly gathered himself together and shuffled off the battlefield; he didn't belong there. He didn't
belong anywhere and he had no where to go. What he once called home had been destroyed years ago.
For how long he wandered across that field of death, he had no idea, nor was he aware that he was still
there. Not until he lifted his head, sensing a familiar presence, did he realize where he was. Standing
before him was a machine that towered over his head. He almost had to lean back to see it all. But he was
not alarmed--his friend stood before him: the Gundam Death Scythe.
The Gundam stood silently, patiently...almost as if awaiting its pilot's next move. Duo had to admire it for
what it was worth--this thing had been his only means for fighting during the war, not to mention his only
reliable friend for quite some time before he met his other Gundam pilot allies.
Now, it was only a symbol of death and destruction, a reminder of his life as the God of Death. He didn't
want to remember that life. He knew he'd never forget it as long as Gundam Death Scythe was there...and
he knew what he had to do. As much as he hated it, he had to destroy his friend.
There was also the colonies to think about. As long as the Gundams were around, someone might take
them. If they fell into the wrong hands, they'd have another war to deal with, and there had always been
that rumor: He who sees a Gundam and fights will not live to tell about it. Being a Gundam pilot was no
exception--Duo had fought against Gundams before, and even though the pilot was not Heero Yuy, Quatre
Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton or Wufei Chang, he had come uncomfortably close to death every time.
The Gundams were dangerous, with or without their respective pilots. Now that the war was over for Duo,
they were not needed...and better off destroyed.
Looking at his Gundam, Duo smiled. He was going to miss it, no matter if it was better off gone, no
matter if it was dangerous. Suddenly sentimental, he found tears welling up in his eyes once more. He
simply let them fall this time. It didn't matter to him if he cried or not. And who knew? Maybe that was
what he needed to do, given the present situation.
The Gundam seemed sad too, as if it could read its pilot's thoughts. It suddenly knelt down and extended a
hand, offering a shelter from the rains.
Duo gladly accepted, not afraid of the Gundam despite its independent actions. He crawled into Death
Scythe's open hand and let the machine lift him up to its open cockpit doors, where he climbed inside and
closed them. He strapped himself in the seat and placed his hands on the control levers. Almost
unconsciously, his hand moved down to another control: A single stick with a small red button on one end
and a wire connecting the stick to the control panel in front of him.
He realized he was holding the self-detonation device. Duo looked at it sadly. Maybe this was for the best.
It would destroy the Gundam. Wasn't that what he wanted? Wasn't that what the entire world and the
colonies wanted?
But, it would take him down with it. Did it matter if he lived? If his friends died, it was all his fault. If
they lived, they could go on fighting...and he might endanger thier lives again. What if next time, they
didn't survive? He couldn't let that happen again.
But what if he lived? Heero had tried to self-detonate once, but later, Duo met him again, alive and well.
If he lived, would he be able to stand himself then?
It was worth a try. Humanity didn't need him any longer. All he could ever do was fight. That had been
his only real use, fighting.
He could never rid himself of Shinigami. It had become a part of who he was over time. With all of
humanity living in total pacifism, where was need for his fighting or Shinigami? What was left for him
now but his own destruction?
And then he made up him mind.
He sat in his seat, tears streaming down him face, holding onto the device that would end it all. Silently,
he pleaded for forgiveness.
"Well, Death Scythe....Looks like this is it, old buddy."
The Gundam gave a silent reply, one that only its pilot could hear. Duo smiled, but it didn't last long.
Moments later, he was staring out at the battle field once more.
His tears never once let up as he gave a silent apology to his friends, the ones he'd fought a war for, those
he'd let die at the hands of his enemy...
His thumb moved up the self-detonation switch, and rested on the button. Duo leaned back in his seat,
closed his eyes, and let his thumb press the red button...Warning signals blared from the Gundam.
Seconds later, a tremendous explosion rocked the area...