Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, Luida, Brad, Jessica, or any of the other characters in the manga / anime series. They all belong to Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.
My own inventions include: Lumia, Larissa, Shyla Jones, Lisa Reeve, and the other Reeve family members.
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Letters
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Luida's descendant lightly scanned through several of the diary's pages, noting her ancestor's growing concern that Shyla didn't seem to be making other friends among the villagers.
Yet the young Plant girl seemed to be doing well in other ways. She took to learning like birds take to flight. She was, perhaps, too studious. Everything fascinated her, even if she had learned a few things about a subject previously; she still wanted to know more. She didn't just want to know all about each subject, either. She also wanted to understand. Any time Luida checked in on her, she would find books and schoolwork spread across the dining table and Shyla would want to talk about whatever she was currently studying.
Lumia and Larissa had been equally insatiable about learning when they were younger. However, after each one had chosen a profession and begun to work, that previously bottomless desire to learn had gradually faded away. Shyla still had it, though, and showed no signs of slowing down any time soon.
It had become customary for her to visit Luida's twice a week to give cooking lessons to Lumia and Larissa. She'd been kept involved in the weekly tending of the apple saplings. She occasionally played with the Village's children, between lesson times.
Yet aside from lessons, tending trees, attending church, and the occasional romp with the Village's children, Shyla kept entirely to herself. The girl spent nearly all of her time at home, alone.
One morning, when Shyla had been at the village for about two months, Luida was pondering what she could do about curing Shyla's isolation. It was nearly time to give the girl her daily lessons. Luida's thoughts were interrupted by a knock.
...
Year 136 month 10 day 28
"Come in," I said. I glanced at my list of appointments for the day, which my highly efficient secretary had laid on my desk. None were listed for this hour.
"Good morning," the postmistress said cheerfully as she came in and closed the door. "This came in last night's mail, after you'd gone home for the evening. Since it's so unusual, I thought I should bring it to you, and learn what to do if another appears."
"Thank you," I said, reaching out to receive the letter she held up.
"Unusual" put it mildly. Each word was entirely drawn in the most basic version of capital letters that is possible. Some were imperfectly drawn, as if the writer was unaccustomed to writing. The name in the "from" section of the envelope was "Tumbleweed Jones." It had no return address, though it had a December post mark.
I opened one edge of the envelope and peered in. I could swear that my heart skipped a beat as I recognized the handwriting inside.
"Thank you, very much," I said carefully. My heart was pounding, as if it were trying to catch up from the beat it recently skipped. "It's from one of ours, who travels a great deal among outsiders. He must have felt it important to conceal his identity, else he'd not have written the envelope this way. If another letter like this one comes, please bring it to me immediately. There is nothing more important than one of these letters, and nothing that can't be interrupted. I shall instruct my secretary accordingly."
"I hope it's good news," she said.
"I do, too," I said. "Thank you, very much, for bringing it to me."
"Any time," she said, smiling, and waved a kind farewell before she left my office.
He had thoroughly avoided anything that might identify him on the envelope. I took that to mean he wished this letter to be private, and I was willing to abide by his wish in this matter.
The instant the door latched behind the cheerful postmistress, my letter – still inside its envelope – was held tightly against my chest, directly over my heart. I don't recall any conscious choice to hold my letter like that. It simply happened.
I waited, trembling, for my heart and breathing to return closer to normal.
To have reached December in so short a time, he must have used transportation other than his own two feet. That was a risk, yet it was like him. In this, he reminded me of a small bird that I had read about on the computer... it would hop and behave as if it had a broken wing, to lure predators away from its nest.
In a similar fashion, Vash had hurried away from us. He hoped that any trouble pursuing him would continue to pursue him, and leave us alone. Bless the man; he was always so concerned about everyone except himself!
I reminded myself that Vash must have taken extra time to make the writing on my envelope so completely anonymous. This suggested that he must be somewhere he thought he was safe, to have enough leisure to take such care with the writing's appearance. This should be a good sign. It should mean that the letter contains nothing to panic about, which made it unlikely he'd been either captured or injured.
Taking a deep breath, I made myself place the envelope on the desk and take out his letter. With trembling hands, I smoothed it out on my desk, preparing to read it.
I was interrupted by a knock and a familiar voice politely asking permission to enter.
I looked up at the clock, amazed. Had I truly spent twenty minutes simply holding Vash's letter? According to my clock, I must have.
"Come in, Shyla," I said. I pulled a random page from a pile of work that needed tending, and used it to cover Vash's letter.
She came in with her arms full of books, as usual. "Good morning," she said, and smiled at me.
I smiled at her. "Good morning," I said. "Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable. We have a few things to talk about today."
She sat, and began to look nervous.
"Oh, don't worry, you've done nothing wrong," I said reassuringly. "I just learned last night that you had declined another invitation to join my girls and their other friends, because you said that you needed to study."
"Yes," she said softly, her eyes large with concern.
"Well, Vash did ask us to teach you everything," I said. "However, we don't need to teach it all to you this year. I think we will reduce the amount of homework we give you, so that you can have time to learn a few social lessons, also. Isolating you would be doing you a disservice. Vash wouldn't like that."
"I'm used to being at home," she said. "That's how I've always lived, with Vash and Naomi. I don't know what else to do."
"Which is exactly why we need to get you away from home a little oftener," I said. "It need not be every evening, but you should be getting out at least often enough that you will know what to do. Then you can learn what you do and don't enjoy, and choose activities accordingly."
"I don't even know how to begin," she admitted, flushing, as her gaze shifted to the floor.
"I would recommend a choir," I said. "We have two. There's the church choir, which you've already seen on Sundays. There's also a community choir, which does concerts about four times a year. They do mostly folk, seasonal, and silly songs, instead of concentrating on the sacred. You could join either or both, as a place to begin."
"Can I sing well enough to join a choir?" she said softly, still staring at the floor.
"You lack confidence," I said, "but otherwise you sound fine. It will give you something to do that includes an opportunity to both get out of your house and also to meet more people. Choir practice will give you something to do so that you're not merely standing around feeling nervous, and that activity will be something that's liked and enjoyed by all in attendance. Those things should help you know what to talk about with other choir members, at least as a place to begin."
"Tell me when and where to go," she said, with that "I'll do anything for Vash" expression on her face. "I'll do my best."
"I'm sure that you will," I said fondly.
"I'd appreciate it if you continue the cooking lessons with Lumia and Larissa," I added. "Some weeks, those are the only two afternoons when I get to see them, because they enjoy being out with their friends so much. Not to mention how your lessons have improved their cooking… that is also appreciated."
Shyla blushed more deeply. "I'm happy to help with what little I already know," she said.
"I'd like you to make one other change in your routine," I said, "and, for you, this one is likely to be the most difficult."
She looked at me nervously, but waited patiently to see what I would say.
"I'd like you to begin eating your lunch, on weekdays when you have lessons here, in the ship's mess hall instead of going home," I said. "Vash said that he wanted the people here to like you, but they can't do that if they never see you. I want you to be familiar to them. My daughters or I will join you when we can, but that won't be every day. Sometimes you'll be unaccompanied."
She sat very still for a moment, and then she swallowed hard. "May I wait until tomorrow to begin doing that, please?" she said.
"Of course," I said, smiling. "You probably hadn't packed a lunch for today, had you? Tomorrow will be fine."
"Thank you," she said softly.
"After you get used to choir and eating lunch in the mess hall," I said, "so I'm probably talking about sometime next year… I'd like you to join one more social group. You can pick whatever you please. We have recipe-trading groups, sewing groups, art groups, reading groups, gardening groups… some meet weekly, others only gather once a month. Look around, ask around, and choose at least one. Okay?"
"I will do as you ask," she said softly.
She wasn't frightened, though she was extremely nervous and uncomfortable. I could understand that. I was asking her to step well outside of what she knew, and change some of her behavior. Yet it was the only method I knew that would help to cure her of her excessive bashfulness. She'd been among us for two months, long enough to learn her way around. It was time she began getting to know the people here, too.
Hopefully, making her more visible should also end that nasty rumor someone was circulating. The idea that Shyla kept herself apart from everyone from an arrogant attitude that she was somehow better than us… it made me want to throw something.
If I ever learned who started that malicious rumor, I'd be likely to punch him or her right in their lying face!
Lumia had been angry when she told me about the rumor, and Larissa was shocked when she encountered it. Unfortunately, none of us had yet managed to track down the source. It seemed to be "what everybody was talking about" and nobody seemed to know where the idea had originated.
"Okay, now that we have that business tended, let's discuss your lessons."
Shyla seemed relieved as she opened her books.
…
Lisa skipped ahead to the part where Luida finally found enough quiet time to read her letter from Vash.
…
My dear friend,
I hope that this letter will find you and yours all doing well.
I wished to thank you for being so frank with me the last time we spoke, but there was not enough time to say so then. I needed to go, and I trust that you understand why.
You and the others who live in that village are all very dear to me. I still have no words to adequately express my surprise and gratitude when I learned how you have held me in your heart. It's more than I deserve, and I will always treasure your words.
I have very few friends, except for those of you who live there. One I visited on the way there. The girl I brought can tell you all about that, if you wish to know.
I've just arrived in December. I plan to visit my friend's grave before I leave the area.
I will soon check on the insurance girls and my dead friend's friend. They are the reason I came to this city. I won't make myself known to them, since I don't want to interrupt their lives. However, I will make sure that they don't need any assistance that I might be able to offer quietly, without them or anyone else ever knowing that I was involved.
I will do those things, and then write to all three girls under your care. I'm hoping that checking on old friends will give me something to write to them about. I'll send those letters the same way that I sent the drawing, so you know what to expect.
I think it best if I don't return to visit for at least two or three years. I must search for information regarding my lost brother, and that may take some time. If I find a trail of information about his possible fate, I may not wish to interrupt the search. I do not know if I could forgive myself, if I allowed a cold trail to vanish altogether because I interrupted my search.
I also wish to give the girl I brought to you enough time to grow accustomed to living apart from me. I am fond of the child, though I worry that she was growing too attached to me simply because I was the only person she knew.
The small town we left may be the only place remote enough for me to linger. I must keep moving, for reasons I trust you understand as well as I do. It grieves me that this means I must be parted from all of you.
You deserve a better life than it is within my power to offer you. Please, don't limit your options to me. Don't let the girl do that, either. Both of you deserve better.
Be safe and well.
- Tumbleweed Jones
…
Lisa skipped ahead, barely scanning Luida's sentimental response to reading the letter Vash had written to her.
She flipped past a few pages until she found the entry where the other letters arrived. To her disappointment, none of the girls let Luida read their letters. They only told her about them.
Vash had indeed checked on his friends, without letting any of them know he was in the area. People named "Livio" and "Milly" had married each other. Someone named "Meryl" had married someone she met at work. Both families had kids, and both parents and children seemed healthy and happy. Luida had seemed to know who those people were, but Lisa had no idea.
Since Vash had said almost nothing about himself, Lisa was disappointed and flipped past a few more pages. She lightly scanned how Shyla had kept her promises. The Plant girl joined the church choir. She also began eating lunch in the ship's mess hall with half the village, nearly every weekday. Luida and one or both of her daughters joined her often, but not always. It was difficult for the shy girl, but she continued… apparently determined to please both Vash and Luida.
Lisa kept flipping pages, lightly scanning, until something caught her eye. The entry was dated roughly two years later than the arrival of Vash's first letter to Luida.
…
Year 138 month 11 day 12
"Mama, there's another rumor going around, about Shyla," Lumia said, when she came into my office this afternoon. She sounded disgusted. "This one's worse than most of the others have been."
My hand clenched into a fist. I wanted to hit something. This had been a constant trend, for over two years – ever since Shyla had come to us. If it continued, she was likely to form a negative opinion of humans in general.
The worst part was that the rumors about Shyla were unlike the usual ones that circulated through our village. They didn't have the feel of incomplete or imperfect information that had been supplemented by random speculations. The rumors about Shyla were always maliciously negative in both tone and content.
"What is it this time?" I asked, trying to brace myself. I knew I wasn't going to like it, from the little that Lumia had already said.
"They're saying that Shyla had lunch with Medwin Reeve," Lumia said, "and that she was holding hands and flirting with him. His fiancée is in tears."
"Of course she is," I said. "If I heard a thing like that about the man I loved and planned to marry, I would likely react the same way." I sighed. We could go talk with Medwin's fiancée, and try to set it straight, but damage may have already been done.
"There may be a good thing from this one, though," Lumia said. "Patricia learned about the two of them from an anonymously sent letter."
"A letter?" I said. I stood up. "Let's go see Patricia, then. Perhaps, this time, we can track the source when we set it right."
"She went home early, after she got the letter," Lumia said.
"So this is very recent?" I said.
"Yes, she only got the letter just a few minutes ago," Lumia said.
I nodded in understanding. Patricia and Lumia worked in the same section of the infirmary. I began walking briskly toward Patricia's house. Perhaps, if we were quick enough, we could fix this before it hurt either Medwin or Patricia any further.
I could easily imagine what had probably actually happened. The mess hall could get crowded at lunch time. Shyla was always among the first to go in, and she tended to select an out-of-the-way small table if she didn't see me, Lumia or Larissa.
Medwin Reeve had a younger sister, who was about the age that Shyla appeared to be. If it grew crowded, it is very likely that he might have chosen Shyla's table to eat lunch. He was nearly as bashful as Shyla, who would remind him of his littlest sister, so they were two people who might gradually become friends.
I suspected that the "hand holding" was either an introductory handshake or else one that was merely a greeting between acquaintances. The "flirting" part was probably either entirely imaginary, or else a distortion of Shyla's bashfulness (for example, if she only looked up to respond when he spoke to her but otherwise looked down at her lunch). Or, possibly, they might have been seen laughing together, since Medwin was good at telling humorous anecdotes… if you could ever get him talking.
Shyla simply did not think of boys or men in a flirtatious manner. She was far too bashful to become a flirt. If she did ever become flirtatious, there was a strong probability that all such behavior would be done in the presence of one Vash the Stampede – and it would be done with the sole purpose of getting his attention.
I tried to contain my anger. Patricia would need a combination of sympathy and calmly stated facts, not harsh words against the rumor-monger. Only after she was comforted would it be appropriate to request the letter.
In some ways, I felt even sorrier for Medwin than for Patricia. If she had gone to him with an accusation like this, especially if she broke off the engagement because of it, that gentle soul might be devastated. I would go to him next, if needed.
We went to Patricia's house, and knocked on the door.
"Luida!" she said, surprised, when she opened the door for us. Her eyes were red, and there were tear-streaks on her face. "I… had not expected a visit from you."
"May we come in, please?" I asked gently.
"Oh, of course," she said, and led us in to the sitting area. "Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?"
Lumia and I sat on her couch, and I said, "Please sit with us, and listen patiently?"
Patricia sat down stiffly on an overstuffed chair adjacent to the couch. "What is it?" she asked.
"A rumor has come to my attention, that I believe to be entirely false," I said, as gently as I could manage while still wrestling to rein in my temper. "I came right away, when I heard about it. I was concerned for you. I did not wish you to be injured by this nonsense. However, it appears as if I may have come too late."
"This is more than a rumor," Patricia said, her chin quivering. "Someone saw them, and wrote to me…" her voice broke, and she closed her mouth while trying to retain some measure of composure.
"I'm so sorry that happened," I said softly. "If I understand correctly, this letter said that your fiancé was eating lunch and flirting with a girl named Shyla Jones?"
Patricia nodded.
"I know both of them," I said, "and I simply can't believe it. Neither one is the type of personality to behave as this rumor claims that they did."
"I didn't want to believe it of Medwin," Patricia said softly, barely above a whisper. "But I don't know Shyla Jones at all. Even if he wasn't flirting, how can we be sure that she wasn't?"
"I know her," Lumia said. "If I'd gotten back just a little sooner, I could have told you. I'm so sorry that I was too late to talk with you before you left."
"Have you ever met Shyla?" I asked. When I saw Patricia shake her head, I continued. "She looks about the age of Medwin's littlest sister, Peony. She's tall, but she's very skinny and quite young in her ways. She's possibly the most bashful, shy creature that I have ever encountered. She might be even more bashful than Medwin."
Patricia looked skeptical, but her expression also told me that she was listening.
"You know how crowded the mess hall can get around lunch time," I said. I waited until she nodded. "If Medwin couldn't find a place to sit with his co-workers, I'd imagine he might find the idea of sitting with a girl who reminded him of his littlest sister more appealing than sitting with other villagers that he barely knows."
"That's true," Patricia said thoughtfully. Her shoulders became very slightly less hunched. "He's less bashful around children than adults."
"It doesn't take much talking with Shyla to discover that she's painfully shy," I said. "Medwin would recognize that, at least as quickly as anyone else, since he's also very bashful. So I'd suppose he might try telling one of his anecdotes about something silly that Peony or one of his other younger siblings did. She'd be steadfastly looking down at her lunch, until something in the story made her laugh, and then she might look up at him to see if he was serious…"
I saw comprehension dawning on Patricia's face. "And someone saw that, and misunderstood, because they didn't know either of them well enough to know better," she said. Her shoulders relaxed some more. "But… what about the hand-holding part?"
"If it was the first time he met her, wouldn't he shake hands when he introduced himself?" I said.
"Of course he would," she said, sounding almost defensive. "And some scandal-loving gossip tried to make something of it, and accused my Medwin of… ooh!"
She was angry, and rightfully so.
"Now do you understand why I never believed it?" I asked gently.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you, both of you, for coming. I hadn't thought of it like that. I should have, but it hurt so much…"
"It's not your fault that you were taken by surprise," I said. "Honest people don't expect dishonesty. The idea of a betrayal can be so painful that we don't always think clearly about the possibility that we may have been misinformed."
She blushed, and nodded.
"May I see the letter?" I said. "This kind of gossip can cause so much unnecessary heartache... I'd like to discourage the person responsible from continuing such nonsense. If I could borrow the letter, I might be able to track down your anonymous informer."
Patricia rose immediately, pulling the letter from a pocket, and handed it to me. "You can have it," she said. "I don't want that piece of trash anymore."
"Thank you," I said. "Have you spoken with –"
There was a knock on the door.
"That should be Medwin!" Patricia said, her face lighting up. She hurried to the door, opened it, and dove into his arms when she saw him standing uncertainly outside.
"Thank God," I whispered, thinking aloud. I glanced at Lumia, and saw her smiling at me. We'd come in time to prevent worse trouble.
And I had the letter.
…
Lisa lightly scanned past Luida's further venting, and read more carefully when the letter's author had been identified and Luida went to confront her.
…
"Good evening, Brad," I said as calmly as I could manage, when he opened the door. I was still seething. "I need to speak with you and Jessica. I'm sorry that this has to be business, and not a social call."
"All right," he said, looking confused. "What's happened?"
"I'll talk about it, in detail, with both of you," I said. "The summary is that we have a problem with slander."
"Slander?" he sounded shocked. "Who's been slandering us, and why?"
I laid a hand on his forearm, and tried to be gentle with him. He was not to blame, and would likely be hurt as badly by this as anyone else. "You aren't the one who's been slandered," I said, more calmly. "Jessica has spread some slander, and I must try to reason with her. I'll need your help, to discourage her from doing it again."
"Oh my God," he said, and his broad shoulders drooped. "It's about Shyla Jones, isn't it? I know that Jessica doesn't like her, but I hadn't thought she'd ever do anything like…"
"I hadn't thought she would, either, until it happened," I said. "Let's talk with her. She doesn't have to like Shyla, but she does need to stop spreading lies about her."
Brad nodded, and led me into his home.
…
Lisa found the following conversation uncomfortably like a parent lecturing a child, since that was the tone Luida took with Jessica. However, in the case of that specific conversation, it was a Council member wielding her authority – appropriately – toward preventing unnecessary trouble among villagers.
She skipped ahead to see that Brad and Luida had agreed to work together toward helping Jessica improve her behavior. Brad would try to help her alone, but he could call upon Luida anytime when he felt that he needed assistance.
Brad, Luida, Lumia, Larissa, Patricia and Medwin would all fight the rumor with truth, anywhere it surfaced.
Luida went to Shyla, to warn her. Although truth had been applied immediately, and everyone directly involved had a firm grasp of the truth, the rumor might still take a few days to die away.
