Title:
Child of War
Author:
Mizuno Mouri (subtledemon@aol.com)
Archive:
Darkflame's and others! You know who you are ^_~
Category:
One-shot
Pairings:
None
Rating:
PG-13
Labels/Warnings:
Slight Bastardization of characters.
Notes: A
fic written to a poem not much more than that.
Disclaimers:
I own nothing; I'm making nothing off of this. So don't sue ^^;; Gundam Wing is
owned by more powerful people than myself. I wish I were one of them! The poem
"Child of War" is mine however... so ask before you use it... if you
use it ^^;;
Feedback:
C & C always welcomed!! All comments, includin' flames (which will be used
to light the fireplace), will receive a reply.
*Dedicated
to Tyr-sama.*
[poetry]
Child of
War
By Mizuno
Mouri
[Bombs
sound, gunfire fills the air
The time
has come
Another
child of war has been born]
The bomb went off and the
building exploded. He stepped back and watched as it crumbled to the ground.
Nothing, no one, not a thing was to survive. It was his mission, to kill those
that were in the building and destroy the mobile suits that were in the
vicinity. His mission was complete.
"Ninmu
Kanryou." He spoke solemnly, not a hint of emotion making itself apparent
in his voice. The fire of the crumbling building reflected in his eyes, but
nothing showed when he heard the screams of those that were being swallowed by
the flames of destruction.
[Born of
pain, grief, and sorrow
Destined
to live life as a slave
To
destruction]
His eyes
stared blankly at the grim battle scene before him; he was passive as normal.
Emotion once again not present in the face of this boy, yet there was a flicker
in those forested eyes of his. A look of defiance, he had beaten his enemies
once more and proved that he could live on to another battle.
Walking
the streets, he saw the news casts about what he had done. The faces of the
family members of those he had killed. What was the difference to him, he had
suffered when he was a child and yet he suffered now too. They could handle it,
he did.
[A lone
boy stands among the rumble
Standing
among it proudly,
An odd
look over comes his face
He smiles
wickedly]
He
searched through the destroyed base, looking for survivors. His eyes scan
through the destruction that had befallen the area. Nothing could ever compare
to the things he has done to the people here. He shrugs it off; it shouldn't
matter to him. They would've done it to him had he not killed them first.
Something
moved, an arm. He whipped around, his braid swinging around with him. Walking
quickly over to the fallen soldier, he looked into his eyes and saw what he
knew should be there, fear.
"Please...
don't kill me." He whimpered and pleaded with the boy. The boy shook his
head and removed a knife from his shirt sleeve.
"There
can be no survivors." He leaned over quickly, grabbed the soldier, and
slit his throat. That soldier had been no older than himself and yet he didn't
regret what he had done.
[Not weary
of the destruction around he,
He accepts
it with glee,
For it was
he that had created it,
By his own
hands, he caused the people's
death, and
not a single tear befalls his face.]
Smoldering
smoke filled the area, heated infernos surrounded him, and he laughed. Laughed
because he caused it and he enjoyed doing it. Those that were weak did not
deserve the right to even battle him. For all this destruction and madness he
had created he smiled, the only thing that was remotely bright in all of this.
The calls
from those far away from the battle zone, condemning him for his actions, they
cursed at him, called him inhuman and heartless. The smile on his face
flickered into a sadistic grin. He didn't care, his job was done, and they were
dead to him.
[Falling
to his knees, he offered a prayer
to the
gods that were out there.
May they
find forgiveness for him
and those
he has killed]
He fell
out of the infernal machine, collapsing to his knees and bringing his hands
together. Bowing his head against them, he prayed. Praying for himself, his
comrades, and those that have been killed. He prayed for their very souls.
Destruction controlled them now. They yearned and desired it and in his own
heart, he knew it and there was nothing he could do.
Pain
reflected in his heart, slowly devouring him whole. Nothing reached him after
the destruction, only the pain of those deaths that he had caused, and even
then it didn't faze him that much. After all he was a fighter, he wouldn't let
those things get to him.
[He stands
back up and walks off,
A child of
war, born in despair,
Destined
to be a slave to destruction.]
They fight
on, regardless of what the others say about them. They fight for what they
believe in and nothing else and yet some part of them still desires that
destruction, the bliss of it, and the feeling that it causes. Battles wage on
and so does war. One fight begets another and the chain continues, the endless
chain of destruction and death. To never be able to escape it is their destiny.
~Owari~
*scurries off* Hope it was err umm enjoyed? And
perhaps Tyr-sama was appeased with her offering...
