Soulful Redemption
by ChibiQuatre
6/9/00
Yet another GW disclaimer: well, do you all REALLY want me to write a disclaimer?! We all know that I don't own GW (though God KNOWS I wish I did!). The GW boyz r'nt mine, never were, never will b. They are owned by their respective creators; Sunrise, There...happy!!! ((oh, and any trouble translating the japanese, I'll b happy to help!))
"Nanashi! Don't just stand there..."
I flinch at the memory of the harsh voice, yelling at me to go back to work.
It is a voice of the past, a reminder of the demons I carry in my soul. Correction. The demons I carried, past-tense. I have learned to slowly let go of the past and grasp the future.
It wasn't easy to face the fears that had haunted me ever since before I was Nanashi, little No Name. But then again, it never is, is it?
As quoted by Heero, "Humans should act in accordance to their feelings." But fear is strong enough to block out any actions I might've taken against my past.
That is, until I met my fellow Gundam Pilots.
The first one I ever met was Quatre Winner. I think he returned me my soul more than the others did. He showed me that there were people who cared, who had the power to stop wars. When he stepped out of his Gundam Sandrock first, I couldn't understand. More importantly, I didn't want to understand the concept of friendship or kindness. Why would a warrior back down from a fight?
I knew that Sandrock was equipped with two curved, double-bladed swords that could easily destroy my HeavyArms. I had seen it done to the OZ troops, and it was only a matter of time before I was destroyed. But the Arabian had decided to withdraw from the fight, not knowing whether or not I would spare his life. It was as if he was trying to prove a point: sometimes, the seemingly least important wars won are the most important wars lost.
Quatre had cracked my hard heart with his boundless empathy, and left it open to experience relief and freedom. Independence from the cruel mercenaries on colony L3. All I ever wanted was to forget those memories. They were heartless and uncaring. Well, thank you Quatre for helping me take those first steps towards redemption.
The other pilots helped too. I could tell there were things about them they didn't want to confront. Doesn't everyone seek relief from the shadows that stalk them in their nightmares?
But I couldn't pry into their personal affairs because behind every mask lies a tortured soul. I, Nanashi, should know most of this. I, who have been hiding behind a clown mask half my life, running around in a circus acting like a clown should, I know more about this than any of my companions ever will.
They've all contributed to the resolution of my problem, in some way or another. For instance, the Japanese pilot, Heero, has shown me what becomes of one trained for the kill. Yuy is hard-hearted and cold-blooded: the Perfect Soldier we call him. He doesn't seem to care about anyone else. Even worse, he doesn't care about himself. It's a godsend, or a pain depending on how you look at it, that Heero's many attempts at self-destruction has never worked. It just proves to me what Quatre is always saying, that life is more important than anything.
Duo has also helped me, whether he knows it or not. That violet-eyed American has helped us all with his humerous antics. I feel relaxed around the cheerful Shinigami, although I really detest that name. It doesn't befit him. Duo is always so full of life, even though I know he must be hiding something as well. Everyone has something to hide. It's too painful to reveal everything.
Last but not least, Wufei, the Solitary Dragon, formulated my belief to fight. If not for him, our victories against OZ would mean nothing. Wufei's worship of justice has wound its way into all our hearts through every one of his long justice rants. While the others abhor them, or just pretend to, I astutely enjoy those verses built on clever speeches of fairness. Despite what my fellow pilots do, I listen to Wufei's civic Chinese truths.
Taking all this into consideration, I can say that my triumph is not only mine; it belongs to the five of us: Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Quatre Raberba Winner, and Chang Wufei. Without them, I know I could not have relinquished my fright of years long gone.
I know that words are not necessary to get my point across. We all have at least a little bit of what Quatre calls 'Uuchu no Kokoro,' or 'Space Heart', in us, though how it is expressed is totally up to us. Looking into my eyes, I know they can see whatever pain I have experienced, as I can see theirs.
And just knowing that the five of us are special in that tiny way, just knowing that even the happiest of people can have the worst of days, shows me exactly how comparable to humans we are, no matter how cold our façades. It proves that we are not the icy-eyed killers we are thought to be.
Thank you fellow pilots, friends, for allowing me to see the sun each morning.
I stroll down the hallway after grabbing a glass of milk from the kitchen. It is still too early to be up, although Heero is probably awake and working already. Sometimes he is so similar to a computer it scares me; his brain acts as a counterpart to his computer.
I walk down the hall in a sleepy haze and reach up to push my blond bangs away from my eyes. My brain isn't completely up and running yet. I let out a huge yawn and pass my friends' rooms. Upon passing Heero's room, I hear nearly silent beeps of a computer and the click-clack of the keyboard. "Sou ka," I murmur. I thought as much.
From Duo's room, I hear loud snoring and the occasional incomprehensive language that one mutters in his sleep. Whew, I'm glad I don't sleep next to Duo. He's noisy, even in his sleep! I smile and head to Wufei's room, where I hear the constant 'whish swish' sound of his sharp-bladed sword as it sweeps through the air in a fluent clean cut. I'm not even surprised that Wufei's up with the dawn.
Nearing my own room at the end of the hall, I pass one last room. Trowa's door is open a tiny crack and sunlight is flooding in as one thin streak into the dark hallway, suggesting that the window in his room is open and probably that Trowa is awake.
I slide the door open a little wider and it obliges without a creak. I just stand there in the threshold, slightly surprised to see that Trowa is sitting in a chair to one side of the window, the low sun casting long shadows across the velvety-red carpet. I step a little further into his room, the carpet cushioning my steps as not to make a noise.
I stop suddenly at the expression on his face. His one visible emerald-green eye is glimmering with unshed tears, and for once, I can see straight into Trowa's soul. His defenses are down, and I can clearly see everything, painful and sweet, written across his face. I slowly back out of the room. It is obvious that Trowa is deep in thought and could react badly if I intruded.
I have the feeling not unlike a mother, who stumbles across a young child in need of help, but who is stubborn, and determined to work it out himself. I shut his door completely, drawing on my stealthy skills as a Gundam pilot to turn the handle and close without a sound.
And with that, I take my glass of milk and enter my room.
~OWARI~
*NOTE: This is from Trowa's POV first, then Quatre's because Trowa is mysterious and intriguing and Quatre's the empathic one. Anything other than that you can figure out!
How was it minna-san? enjoy it? hope so! reviews, comments, questions, and suggestions r always welcome! i'd luv to hear from you! oyasumi nasai now that you're done!
Oh and btw...in case anyone is wondering, i didn't mean this ficcie to b yaoi. but u can interpret however u want! i have nothing against yaoi, but for those who are offended by it easily, this is reassurance that this story is completely yaoi-free! k?
ChibiQuatre @ tigerlily6c@aol.com
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