Wind
Kamina/Simon, Kamina/Yoko, Simon, Nia; Gen; 1076 words
Originally posted for Yuletide Rare Fandom Exchange. AO3 /works/300644
Kamina lived like a warrior and died like a legend.
"You told me that my drills will pierce the heaven," Simon says as he lies on a rock, staring at the starless sky. "But it's not easy, Kamina."
For most of the time, Simon couldn't decide if Kamina was oblivious by nature or ignorant by choice. If he was fearlessly valiant or unconsciously moronic. He couldn't flag him either way, because it meant that Simon's going to be the same as Kamina. Everything that described Kamina describes him now.
If Kamina was oblivious, Simon couldn't be vigilant. If Kamina was moronic, Simon couldn't be intelligent.
But, if Kamina was fearless, Simon couldn't be a coward.
The air is heavy that night, and nothing around him moves.
Until he feels a gust of wind breezing by him and he knows that Kamina's here.
Kamina's dead, but Simon's haunted by his ghost.
Simon fights like a soldier and loves like a boy.
"Yoko loved you," Simon whispers to nothing in particular. Lagann is by his side, beeping slowly and steadily, taking the rhythm of Simon's heartbeat.
The gust of wind wheezes awkwardly, and Simon can almost see Kamina's face flushing red.
"To be honest, I was jealous," he says, half-smiling. "She's the first girl who noticed me."
The gust of wind is gently brushing against his face.
"I saw the way she looked at you, Kamina," he continues, "and it's not the way she looks at me."
The air around him stills.
"She thinks the world of you, and thinks of me as a part of you."
Kamina was man who could have been a great lover and Simon's just a learner, a student of romance.
Yoko battles like a man and loves like a woman.
Simon can't believe that it takes Kamina's ghost to finally make him realise that there's another sorrow, another grief, and it's going unhealed.
Simon's grief is the kind that never goes unnoticed, because Simon wears his heart on his sleeves and his face is like an open book waiting to be read. Yoko's grief is the silent, uninterrupted kind. The kind that is never seen because she doesn't allow it to be seen. Yoko's heart is a locked chest, but instead of being buried in the depths of the sea, it floats on the surface, fighting against the crashing waves. Her heart is a spell waiting to be casted, a song waiting to be sung, and a star waiting to shine at night.
"You loved her," Simon concludes to Kamina, and the wind becomes gale, whistling and rattling irregularly.
Simon chuckles. "I love her too," he says softly, "but you think the world of her, and she's but only a part of my world."
The rustling air gradually settles.
"My world, Kamina," he tells the wind, "a world that you built."
Yoko's the love of Kamina's life and Simon can't wait to find his.
Simon thinks like a desperate strategist, but he wishes that he could be a chess master.
He sees himself as the shadow of the general, listening to the commands and formulating plans to coordinate with them. His general was Kamina, and he has gotten so used to working his ideas around his insanity that he doesn't know how to function without it.
Truth be told, Kamina was an insane general, but he was a general who ruled like a king. Nobody overrides a king, even a dead one.
Simon's a player in the game, and his pieces are crumbling one after another, even though it was only the king who fell.
Nia appears in front of him like a diamond and shines like the sun.
"I think she's my Yoko," Simon tells the wind, scratching his head. "It's way too early to say this, right?"
Simon thinks of everything he said to Kamina about Yoko. How she thinks the world of him, how he also thinks the world of her, how everything else is just a part of their, Kamina's and Yoko's, lives.
"I think the world of her."
The wind hits his ears like a buzzing bee.
"I hope she will think the world of me too," he continues, "someday."
Simon senses a whiff of discomfort in the air and it's almost like he can hear Kamina chide.
Not true.
"What is?"
You're not just a part of my life.
"I don't mind being just that."
Simon can't hear Kamina after that.
Nia's a future he wants, but the ghost of Simon's past is clouding his present.
Kamina is now history, but he used to be an existing threat.
He had the world in his hands and he turned it upside down, but Simon's the one to deal the finishing blow.
Simon was a shadow, now he has to be in the light.
Simon's past is the sight of Kamina's back in front of him, and now he sees the outline of Nia blending with Kamina's back.
"I don't want to forget you," Simon stutters. "Kamina, why must you—"
Simon.
"Don't ask me to believe in you, or to believe in you who believe in me, Kamina," he says.
What are you talking about?
"If you believe in me, why are you still here?"
The whisperings come to a halt.
"Kamina," Simon calls, "do you really mean it?"
The hissings in the air stop.
"Believe in me, Kamina," he says, "really believe in me, then I can believe in you too."
Simon's past is the loud echoing of Kamina's voice, and he wants everything about Kamina —his back, his voice, his history— to be the fuel of his future.
Kamina died as a hero and left as a king.
He could have had the universe in his hands, he could have toppled the evil, he could have had the world kneeling in front of him — he could have had everything.
"Let me finish what you have started," Simon says. "You know, you left me with a universe to crush."
The wind blows coldly that night.
"You could have had everything, but all you need to do now is to believe in me."
Simon.
"Believe in me, who believes in you, Kamina!"
I believe in you.
"You'll need to live in me, in us," he says, "in Gurren and Lagann."
Simon turns around.
"And in Yoko."
Simon.
"Don't worry, Kamina."
He no longer hears Kamina.
Kamina left a legacy, and it's the shape of Simon's past, present, and future.