Disclaimer:I do not own Gundam Seed and/or Gundam Seed Destiny.
He is eight years old.
His home is in a small and peaceful space colony, and he lives his days as the ringleader of a group of mischievous boys around his own age. In the winter, they pack snowballs together as tight as they can and throw them at each other with all their might. They laugh and jeer and occasionally slip a rock in and send one of the others crying home with a broken, bleeding nose. In the fall, they jump in carefully raked piles of leaves and try their best to get out of helping with the harvest, and when springtime finally rolls in, they romp through red, pink, and yellow fields behind their houses without a care in the world.
However, one summer, they discover a new pastime.
It's an accident, really. One boy doesn't watch as he steps forward and smashes a firefly underneath his shoes, and they all watch in wonder as it feebly flickers its light, half of it crushed to the ground. Curious, another boy steps forward and squashes it completely. The back of it is spread upon the ground now, a little puddle of greenish light. Everyone but him laughs and reaches out to poke it, forgetting the squashed little black mound was once a living thing.
And soon enough, it becomes a game.
He is fourteen years old.
He's in the academy, in the middle of a Military history class, when two superior officers interrupt their lesson and inform them that war against the Naturals has officially been declared. Nothing is ever the same after that. His friends try to pretend like it doesn't scare them, like they had never doubted this day was going to come, but it does and they had. And sometimes, when they're alone, away from the watchful eyes of their superior officers who constantly tell them to quit acting like such babies and to start being more like men, the boys would be vulnerable with each other and muster up the courage to talk about their families, and how their fathers had recently left home to fight, leaving behind doting wives and adoring children. It seemed as if everyone was worried, except for him.
But why should I be, he questioned silently, when the war was still so far from all those I care for?
Three days pass and he's proven wrong when his haven, his sanctuary, his home where all his happy memories are, is unexpectedly hit by a nuclear missile. The attack claims the lives of thousands of innocent people, many of who had pure and kind hearts; many of who had not hated the naturals and simply enjoyed the idyllic life the countryside provided. People like his mother. People who didn't deserve to die.
It's not surprising that day he promises to fight until the Earth is stained crimson with the blood of its' own citizen.
He is fifteen years old.
In some places in the world, he's still considered a child, yet, he knows he can never be one again if he kills for the first time. But it's either killed or being killed – so he stabs the man in the eye and watches in silence as the gleaming silver blade sinks further, and further, and further into his brain. Despite all his training, all his promises of vengeance, he's not prepared for the sight of Earth Alliance soldier screaming himself to death in pain and madness.
Long after the soldier had died, the screams of pain are still echoing everywhere, until he finally realizes the screams of agony were all his own.
His father told him he'd get used to it in time.
Later that same year, he kills another man, this time in Heliopolis.
Except this time, unlike like the last time he'd taken a life, his mind is completely blank, and his hands are fast and now trained in using guns. Almost instantly, his long, lean legs leap across wide expanses of space in a matter of seconds, and his fingers quickly squeeze the crucial trigger.
He watches as the fear in the soldier eyes disappears, replaced by nothing but pain. He watches as the man's pain then began to fade, replaced only with numbness, as he slips toward an unconsciousness he would never wake from. He watches as his movements slowed, as if his body had realized that moving was useless and his screams began to gradually decrease in volume, until the screams ultimately stop altogether.
His father had told him he'd get used to it in time. He remembers the fireflies, and knows that he has.
He is sixteen.
There's an endless blue sky, hot sun, and crashing waves, but he only notices the piercing scream that disturbs the usual silence of the deserted island. He's seen and experienced it all before though, the knife in his hand and the fear in his enemy's eyes that told him he was about to kill. The young soldier underneath him could only shut his eyes, waiting for an end that would surely come.
But in that instant, just that one instant, the memory sealed in the lining of his emerald irises recognized that shrill scream of pure terror – it brought him back to a year, the very first time he had killed another person. Until now, that soldier from his past was only an idea to him, an abstraction that lived in his mind and called forth its appropriate response: images of hand-grenades, of their rifles, of the enemy and their weapons of mass destruction. And now, he sees someone, a fellow human being, who has the same fear of death, and the same fear of dying and agony. And that instant was enough. Inches away from killing once again, he stops.
Eventually, the soldier opens her eyes, and it's then, during the precious stillness of that moment, she looks at him straight in the eye. At first, he thinks he sees eyes that are similar to his own, eye that possess fire kindled with rage and hatred and the longing for revenge. But then he sees her smoldering amber orbs, and is reminded of the dandelions that once grew under the porch of his destroyed home. A bright yellow that meant rebirth instead of destruction. A promise to never give up, no matter how bad the losses.
He wanted nothing more than to protect that. To protect her. To continue fighting, only if it meant he would never have to watch another light extinguished.
