It's a Matter of the Heart: Gundam Wing Drabbles
Prompt 23: Path
The path started out as dust, mud, and grass. It was wild, untamed, unexplored. No one would transverse it.
Walking down a worn path, he thinks to himself how lucky he truly is. Out of all the atrocities he's had to suffer in his life, giving up could have been so easy. Yet, someone in the great beyond, or perhaps two particular someones, kept him out of difficult troubles that would most likely have caused his death.
Thinking back upon these two people who had given him a new life made him frown. As a child, he took them for granted, their kindness and limitless love, their unbound patience with his temper and pessimistic world view. But most of all, he never appreciated their powerful sense of justice and peace, which they displayed without any violence. As a bringer of death, he sincerely felt unworthy of being called their son. Only until after he had lost them, did he come to realize what a loss the world suffered from the demise of two perfect beings.
The path is traveled, and slowly dust, mud, and grass are worn away. The path is etched into solid ground with tiny footsteps.
They were his light today, however. Their deaths, though tragic and painful, brought about a rage that pushed him into being a fighter, both literally and figuratively. If he were to pinpoint all the effects of becoming a Gundam pilot, fighting for and against the world, and keeping it safe today, he could stem it all back to his Father and his Sister.
And though he was not a man of the faith, more so a man of agnosticism, he wouldn't find it farfetched that his guardian angels had sent his many little pleasures in his life to make up for his miserable beginnings. The first experience could have been Professor G who, though antagonistic and sardonic, took care of him and provided a mentor figure in his disorganized life. The second could coincide with his first, the attainment of the Deathscythe, his buddy and means of fighting. Though most wouldn't see this as a gift but as a cursed responsibility, he relished in having the brains and the skills to efficiently pilot such a beauty.
The path is worn away, first by one person, then from a distance by two. Markers appear on the path, though they aren't yet needed.
His third, and perhaps most significant, introduction came from four boys, for that is what they were at the time. These fellow soldiers, though vastly different from each other and himself, became a foundation for him. He built upon them a source of believe and mutual respect, even going as far as a comfort and friendship. Though quiet and reserved people by nature, the fundamental reverence shared manifested in a support system that he had lacked since his beloved childhood spent with his family.
He even had what he had once thought was irreplaceable in his current life, that of a fellow man who was his 'almost' everything. A best friend, if you will. Many see the relationship as cold and unrequited, but those who have not lived and observed what they had together, couldn't begin to comprehend. He needed emotional safety, not words of meaningless value. And from his best friend, he received that and so much more.
The path is paved by the walkers, making it easier to see, although not easier to cross. The markers are old, faded, but not lost.
His most prized life pleasure came in the form of a young lady. She was nothing more than an obstacle, but when the claws of fate gripped him tightly, he saw that beyond the barrier was a person who could see. Genuinely see. There were his flaws, his reputation, his mannerisms, his career choice, his beliefs; they were all inappropriate for a girl of her quality, but she never faltered, never ran. Accepting him without cause or reservation, she made him appreciate his life for its worth.
His angels outdid themselves, providing a heaven in disguise for an undeserving individual as he saw himself. Though separated from him, they pursued his happiness from the grave, this even the disbeliever couldn't deny. So he did what he could for them, bringing them flowers to rest on unmarked graves in rubbled remains. Not by the commemorative plaque, but where he buried them, together in her garden she devotedly nourished.
He knows their love for him when he turns to depart from their resting places on the anniversary, for there in the distance is his love and his confidant. They look to him with neutral expressions, but he hears their invisible concern. It's the same ever year, but he appreciates their support deeply. Because when they get into the car together and head home, his family will watch over him, both in this world and from the next.
The path was complete, with light for travel even when the road was compressed with darkness. The path is known, understood, and protected. All seek to transverse it.
~Fin~