SinBound
This is the first story I have written in several years. I hope you enjoy it. However, first, I want to explain a little about the world the Gundam Pilots are going to end up in.
This story is based on the world of Haibane Renmei, or Charcoal Feather Federation. Haibane are the main characters in the story and they look like normal humans except for small, non-functional, gray wings located on their backs and gold rings that float slightly above their heads, which are similar to halos. A Haibane is known to appear suddenly, 'hatching' from large, white orbs called "Cocoons". They first look like they did in their previous life, with their wings and halos coming in later. They do not remember anything when they are hatched and are therefore named for a dream, which they should have had in the cocoon.
There is so much more to a Haibane's life, but I want you to be able to explore it as the pilots do. If you've already seen the series, then you might have an idea of what awaits them. Enjoy!
A long line of people flowed through the gate, across the tender, young shoots of grass on other graves and to a converging point in the back of the cemetery. Expressions were somber and withdrawn as each person had a chance to hesitate by the massive stone covering four burial plots. No one noticed the young man who stood off to the side for several hours, his denim jacket hanging loosely and revealing the lack of protective clothing underneath. When the boy shivered unintentionally, attention was diverted to him slightly, aware at last that he would be a constant observer throughout the day.
It was the cold seeping through his denim jacket that brought him to the present. He hunched inward, knowing if the cold got any farther, there wasn't much fabric to protect him underneath. He almost cracked a smile at that thought. Don't get cold, even though it won't matter after tonight.
However, it didn't help with the cold presently.
A hand brushed against him and he stiffened at the person's attempt at a familiar touch.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." A plump woman said, her cheeks red from the cold. He looked at her blankly, trying to understand what she could mean. She balked slightly at his indifference, but tried again. "I heard they were your brothers..." His gaze never changed or wavered and the woman soon retreated to be just another nameless observer at the funeral that she would one day tell her grandchildren about. The death of the infamous Gundam Pilots...
Or at least the loss of four of them. After all, I'm still alive. His thoughts had a sarcastic tone and he clamped down on it, aware of an upwelling of emotion that threatened his level of comfort. Regarding feelings, he still sometimes felt uncomfortable showing those to his closest friends. How could he have such an open display among thousands that he didn't know without someone to watch his back?
Those persons he would trust were his only friends. And they were soon to be separated by an impassable distance...and shrouded in six feet of dirt.
Another person brushed his shoulders, but in a gesture as they were passing by. It startled him and he allowed himself the small, old comfort of his mask. It wasn't like anyone would care; he would soon be too far-gone for them to comment.
He shivered with the unusual feeling of letting his emotionless facade slide back into place. It had been only a few short months since he had been told that the wars were over permanently and masks would no longer be needed. His friends had been there at that time. They had helped compensate the loss of his mask. They had been the first to see him smile, although others would call it a grimace. They had also been there as a barrier to the outside world when he had let his first tear fall. He had, unfortunately, assumed they would always be there for him.
This had been the difference for the last week, as his friends were no longer there to offer support when he had needed it most. When his last tear had fallen before, they had been there. Now, they were not and the mask was a comfort he ran to as well as an object he was afraid of. He slipped into its metaphorical depths with shame as he hid his feelings from the other mourners on this day.
The world's greatest heroes had died and the world felt the need to mourn. Some of them glared accusingly as he was the only survivor. Others stared at him with hope, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would hold the fragile thing called peace together. Still others glanced at him with pity and he would quickly look away from those in fear of losing all control. He looked at all of their emotions, their faces so vivid and open...and he hid his own.
Eventually, the gathering by the graves of his four friends diminished, the need to watch over the stolen lives disappearing with the sun. He watched them leave blankly, his hand tightening around the cold comfort he kept in his coat pocket. If those mourners only knew what was going to happen...would they still have left him to keep silent vigil?
Probably not. They needed him as a symbol for the peace. His chosen path was leaving them without a symbol or rallying point. They wanted him to be their guide.
His grip tightened and he snorted softly. A guide. Right. Let the blind lead the blind and they would only end up where they had started. In war.
The sun disappeared with a startling suddenness, as did the last of the mourners. He looked up slowly, glancing around in shock. There really was no one to stop him now...
He looked back to the four gravestones, the constants for the day that had been full of turmoil. Unerringly, he pulled the comfort from his pocket and placed the cold tip against his temple. His masked cracked and for a second, he hesitated even as his hand jerked and finished the job he had planned on ever since the doctor had given word on the last breath of his friends. The world went dark and he knew no more.
Footsteps echoed down the hall and continued on past the door that stood slightly ajar. The footsteps paused then slowly made their way back. A flashlight entered the room and bobbed around to the corners. In the far left corner, the light hesitated and the footsteps entered into the room.
...Double footsteps...
...Two people...
...They're watching us...
...We're safe. Don't worry...
A girl with black hair tied in twin ponytails crouched down near the small growths and extended a hand. She hesitated then carefully stroked a finger down one small, green leaf. A smile tugged at her mouth and she looked up to her companion.
"Hyouko..." The amazement was plain in her voice. She noticed the hard look in his eyes and turned back to the new growths, counting them quickly. "Four of them. Has that ever happened before?"
The boy tucked his hands into his front sweater pocket and studied the four bulbs that clustered close together in the corner. "We should tell the others." He said instead of responding to the girl's question. He waited a moment, then slid a hand under her elbow and forced her up under the pretense of helping her. She glared at him, but stood. With a long glance back, she stepped out of the room with him.
As the door shut behind the pair, another stem extended from the steel girder, its leaves extending slowly in an almost tentative gesture as it entered its new world.
That is it for the prologue. If you are intrigued, the first chapter should be up in one to two weeks.
