Disclaimer: Trigun and all associated characters is/are the property of someone who is not me.

A Note From Your Friendly Neighborhood Author: You're about to read Part One of my Trigun Tarot series. You'll probably notice that this story doesn't really have a plot. It's more of a stream-of-consciousness rambling thing. If you're looking for an intriguing plot and lots of exciting action, you'll have to look elsewhere. This is by no means a polished piece. It was written rather quickly, and edited very little. Expect the same from the rest of the series. This is more of a fun little creative game I'm playing with myself than an attempt to craft a masterpiece. Also worth mentioning, each piece in this series will be strictly limited to 500 words. All that said, get on with the reading. And please review, whether you like it or not. I live on feedback. And donuts.


Trigun Tarot I: The Fool

Vash the Stampede had been called a fool more than once. Now, as he trudged on across the desert, shifting the steadily increasing weight of his injured and unconscious brother into a slightly less uncomfortable position, he couldn't help but wonder if it was true.

He could have killed Knives. And though he hated to admit it, a small part of him thought he should have. No one would have blamed him for doing away with a being whose only desire was to annihilate the human race.

Except...

Vash, take care of Knives.

Rem... Those were the last words she'd spoken to him.

He could have killed Knives. And in doing so, he could quite possibly have saved countless lives. Deep down, Vash knew that he could not keep Knives captive forever. He knew that he would not be able to change him. He knew that he Knives would escape someday and begin his mission anew. And he knew that the only way to stop Knives would be to kill him.

And yet, here he was, carrying his quite living brother across the desert, back to civilization, to live amongst the beings he so hated. He'd be putting them all in danger. All because of the last words of some long-dead woman. That was how it would seem to anyone else. But to Vash, it was more than that. It was Rem.

In Vash's mind, Rem had never really died. He had refused to let her. So long as he did his best to live as she'd taught him, Rem would live. He'd disappointed her enough already. Whether he'd intended to or not, he'd taken a life with his own hand. He'd indirectly caused the deaths of too many others. He'd nearly killed Knives all those years ago, and then left him to fend for himself.

Vash found himself bending under a weight that had nothing to do with the physical burden he bore.

"I'm sorry, Rem."

But as awful as recent events had been, they had also presented him with the opportunity to make up for the last century.

Take care of Knives.

It was the only wish he had not yet fulfilled, the only words he hadn't heeded. Now he had another chance. He would take care of Knives. He would make Rem happy. Even if it killed him. Yes, they were probably quite right to call him a fool. He only prayed that fact would not bring harm to anyone else.

Knives had called him a fool for his refusal to kill another, even to save himself. But that was what Knives and the others who criticized his methods failed to understand--Vash the Stampede didn't give a damn about himself. He survived only to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

Vash lifted his gaze from his feet and was surprised to see the town already visible along the horizon. He could just make out two familiar figures.

He found himself hoping that Knives would never wake up.