"You sure you want off here? It's 50 iles to the next town,
quite a walk in the middle of the day." The driver scratched his head
and watched Vash the Stampede climb slowly out of the car, slinging a
travel bag over his shoulder and adjusting his yellow tinted glasses.
"Thank you for the ride." Was the simple reply as Vash handed
the driver 20 double dollars and shut the passenger side door. The
driver simply shrugged his shoulders, pocketed the money, and drove
away, leaving Vash the Stampede to himself in a cloud of dust.
What lay in front of Vash was a graveyard filled mostly with
dilapidated wooden crosses. Most had been felled by the dust storms,
but once a year Vash the Stampede came out to this site and cared for
the graveyard. Time had this place behind, as time had left behind
the legend of Vash the Stampede.
Every year, on his birthday, July 21st, he would come out here to
where the city of July once stood and care for the graves. He would
remember the people he saw milling around town that day so many years
ago, how he had completely destroyed their lives with his weapon.
Tears would creep out of the corners of his eyes and cut trails in the
dust that accumulated on his face as he straightened each and every
wooden cross, fixing the broken ones, marking the name carved into
them in his mental list to be sure that they were all there.
He had tried to abandon the gun that could cause so much destruction
back in Demetery after he had found and defeated Knives. Knives had
simply gone back for it and insisted he carry it for protection. Vash
had complied reluctantly. He had wanted to leave the gun and the red
coat back with his old life. But he had forgotten the lesson that all
those years searching for revenge had taught him, that you can never
run away from the past. After awhile he had begun wearing the red
coat again as well, both as a symbol of determination and as a mark of
an outlaw. People had died while he wore that coat, and trying to
leave their memories behind was wrong. So he wore it to remember the
ones that time had forgotten, but the ones who lived outside of time
never would.
He finished up the last few replacement crosses, carving the names
into the surface and placing them over the graves where the crosses
had been blown away. After wiping the wood shavings away from the
last freshly carved name, he looked out over what once had been the
great city of July, but now was only a cemetery that didn't mean
anything to anyone but himself. He allowed the tears on his face to
dry before tending to the last few graves, the ones that hadn't lived
in July, but were out here because this was a place for people he had
changed.
He walked up to the first grave, marked not by a small wooden cross,
but by a large cross wrapped in cloth. It had been tipped over in the
wind, but miraculously still remained after all these years. Looters
had probably stopped coming out this far long ago, and even if they
did, the cross was probably too heavy for them to lift.
"Wolfwood... it's been awhile."
Vash's throat closed off, making it very hard to say anything else.
He didn't know what to say, same as every year. Here was the man that
taught him friendship. Here also was a man who had taken the lives of
so many people out of his own free will. Wolfwood had had a different
education than Vash, and Wolfwood had learned that the people he
killed were wicked people that caused pain and that the World would be
a much better place without them.
Vash knew that everyone had the right to live, and that people can
change. He hadn't ever been able to show Wolfwood.
Just before Wolfwood's death, they had fought over the Gung-Ho Gun
called Zazie the Beast. Wolfwood hadn't seen the small boy cry out in
his sleep. Wolfwood had only seen the Gung-Ho Gun threatening the
lives of children and a town with giant insects at his command, so
Wolfwood shot him without any questions asked when he had everyone
else held up at gunpoint. Vash had tried to make him see that
everyone had a right to live right then, but Wolfwood simply walked
away. Vash knew that it had scarred Wolfwood to kill the child.
They'd tried to talk later, and Wolfwood had almost seen Vash's way of
thinking, but then the Gung-Ho Guns interrupted again, and when Vash
came back, Wolfwood was mortally wounded. Vash had let him die
peacefully in the church that day.
Perhaps just before he died, he had seen. There was some reason he
felt it necessary to go to the church, after all.
Wolfwood had also taught Vash that no matter how hard you fight for
something, sometimes you can never win. Vash never could figure out
what Wolfwood had been fighting for, why he was traveling with that
chip on his shoulder and fighting injustices, but he had died trying
to obtain his goal.
Vash moved onto the next grave marked Meryl Stryfe. Hers was still in
perfect shape after the sun and winds had been unforgiving for another
year. Meryl had died at a young age as a result of being with Vash.
The wounds associated with Meryl's death were torn open anew when he
beheld her grave, even though her death had happened over 150 years
ago.
"Meryl... here I am again. I know you'd love to see me. I'm just
waiting for the punch to the face for taking so long." A solitary
tear rolled down his cheek.
Meryl was different than the rest. He felt more responsible for her
death than anyone else's, even Legato Bluesummers. He knew how much
he meant to the short-tempered woman. She had meant quite a bit to
Vash, and he couldn't stand to see her put in danger as a result of
being with him. After so many years of dodging the bounty hunters
that recognized him every now and again, sometimes you were a bit slow
with the dodge. Vash decided it was safer for her to stay away from
him permanently after she had gotten a bullet through her leg that
caused her to limp severely. He knew she couldn't dodge anymore, and
next time the bounty hunters wouldn't miss her.
Vash never told her she wasn't going to see him again.
He still remembered the final goodbye down to the very last detail.
The two of them walked out to the car Vash had been using at the
time. It was dark, they could only see by the light from the windows
of the homes lining the street. At that time, it only rained once
every twenty years or so, but it was doing it that night. It was as
if the heavens mourned for him. That night they were both soaked as
they walked together. When they reached the car, Vash looked down at
the woman, looked into her face. The rain drops gathered together and
ran in small rivers down her cheeks, almost like she was crying. She
was not meeting his gaze, instead looking at the ground. They were
both tired. Perhaps if she had been aware of the fact he was leaving
her, more meaningful conversation would've passed between them. Vash
opened the car door and spoke.
"Have fun."
Meryl looked up at him, her hair collecting in ropelike strands and
sticking close to her head. She gave him a strange look and simply
said "Yea."
Vash drove away, tears mingling with the rainwater on his face. He
knew it was wrong not to tell her, but he also knew she would follow
him if she found out he wasn't coming back, and that was the last
thing he wanted.
Six weeks later, Meryl Stryfe was killed by a bounty hunter trying to
get to Vash. If he had known she was being held captive, he would've
been there in a second. Instead, he found out about it a year later
when he went back to hear word about how the girls were doing.
He shuffled over to the next grave, which was tipped over and buried
in the sand. He cleared the dust out of the name carving on the
center. He traced it with his fingers and spoke out loud.
"Milly Thompson. I'm so sorry about what you had to see. Noone like
you should have to go through that. You always bore everything else
with a smile and perseverance, but I guess that was the last straw.
No one can go on forever. I know, I know. I say the same thing every
year. I promise next time I'll bring pudding and act more upbeat. I
know you would have." He smiled in spite of himself.
Meryl was around 38 when she had died. Milly was still living with
her at the time, but was visiting her family when the bounty hunter
came. She remained with her family for two years after Meryl's death
and after she quit her job at Bernardelli. It took a serious toll on
her health. Meryl had been her best friend ever since they'd started
working together 18 years ago. After Meryl died, it was as if Milly
lost her will to live. She was no longer her happy-go-lucky self,
instead she was devoid of personality. One day she simply didn't wake
up.
Milly Thompson died of a heart attack at age 42. Vash heard about it
two days after it happened. It was easy to convince her family to
bury her alongside Meryl. It had been easy to have the funeral home
move Meryl's body out to July since she had no family.
The next grave stood well away from the row that the other special
ones were in, but it was still there, still standing upright. It was
smaller than the rest, and unmarked. Legato Bluesummers. Vash only
stood at it momentarily. He had long ago repented over the sin of
taking someone's life. Legato Bluesummers had been an awful person
that had made him choose between the life of a wicked man who had
caused suffering and death to countless people and the lives of the
people he cared about. Even though Legato had deserved life, he had
done much less with his than Milly and Meryl had with their own, so
Vash chose him in the end. It was the only life he had taken in his
300 year existence. But still he remembered the sound the gun made
when ejecting the bullet, the smell of the gunpowder, the bullet
connecting with the skull of his victim, then the small smile as life
fled Legato's body and he crumpled to the ground. Legato was there to
remind him that he had sinned, no matter the circumstances, despite
the fact he didn't need the reminder. It was more of a verification,
seeing every year the spot where he lie.
He moved on to the oldest grave on the planet. He said nothing at
this one, he never did because he felt words from the mouth of a
sinner like himself would offend the person resting here. He knelt
and planted a red geranium on the spot. An ornately carved cross that
Vash had done himself was there and marked with a name, but no body
lie underneath the sand. All of Rem Saverem's remains had been
vaporized when the ship she had been on exploded. But this spot was
here for the woman that only Vash kept the memory of.
He had always been tempted to tell as many people as he could that the
reason they were all on this planet was because of a woman named Rem
Saverem. He wanted to take them to this spot and tell them this is
where she is to be remembered, everyone should pay their respects. He
told no one but Meryl Stryfe of Rem Saverem. All human memory of Rem
had died with Meryl over a hundred years ago. Her influence still
lived on in the people walking the planet everyday.
No, Vash never told anyone of the person that made their lives
possible. However, he made an effort to tell everyone he could about
her philosophies. Whenever he stopped a conflict and no one died, the
people learned of Rem's philosophies. Whenever Vash took a beating in
place of someone else, the crown learned of Rem's philosophies.
Whenever he was playing with kids and they asked him about what he
thought of something, they learned of Rem's philosophies. To Vash,
this was the most important woman on the planet. She was the most
important woman ever, no matter what anyone else thought.
Rem Saverem. If only people knew.
The last grave was marked with an ornate cross carved with vines and
flowers, just like Rem. The ornate carvings on both were to mark
family. This grave contained the still-decomposing body of Millions
Knives. Knives had died two months ago, having spent all his energy.
Sadly, Vash was the last plant left on the planet, all the ones in
captivity had died out over a hundred years ago. Luckily the systems
they maintained were picked up and run by the planet itself and the
people were still able to survive. The rains had been the first sign
that the people were going to live after the plants expired. Knives
had spent a great deal of energy hunting Vash all those years ago,
more than Vash had spent hunting him, so Knives was the first to
die.
"Knives... brother... this is my first visit to your grave. Don't
worry though, if you ask the others, they'll tell you that I come out
here every year. I've run out of things to say to them though. That
kinda happens after a hundred years." Bitter tears ran down Vash's
face as he addressed Knives. He turned briefly to the other 5 graves
that he had honored with memories that afternoon and spoke.
"Since you guys haven't heard me ramble in so long, you can listen
while I talk to Knives. There are no secrets among us now." He
turned back to Knives.
"This place I've had them put you is for the special people in my
life. You remember July, when you triggered my Angel Arm? That was
this place. Most of those hundreds of graves are from the residents
of July. Some of them are from August, but luckily most of the people
there evacuated before my Angel Arm went off. I come out here every
year though not only to honor the lives I ruined, but to honor the
lives that changed me. It's a sad thing to see you join their
ranks. I always assumed I'd die before you. The innumerable scars on
my body are proof enough to back that up. Unfortunately, your
obsessions outdid mine and you lie here now."
"I put you next to Rem since you were the only other one here that
knew her personally. Revnant Vasquez was a relative of hers, but he
wasn't even born yet when she died. Only you and I know her. Despite
the fact you DID know her personally, you hated her with every fiber
of your being even after our showdown in Demetery. Why, Knives?!
Just because Joey treated us harshly all those years ago doesn't mean
that every human is bad! I know you saw that to an extent after our
duel, but you never fully believed in the human race. If only you'd
listened to Rem... I wouldn't have this cemetery to mourn in every
year! Think of the Utopia that would've been had you not ended
Project SEEDS prematurely. This planet is Hell, and the inhabitants
generally adapt to it, making them much more violent and corrupt than
they would be in a better environment. But I promised a long time ago
to stop blaming you for that. I know you felt bad."
"Knives, I'll really miss your company. You're the last friend and
family I've got. Now that you've left, there's nothing left for me to
do but live. I have to spend the rest of my days in Hell alone. I
have no one that can relate to me on this planet now. I don't even
have anyone that can relate to the legend of Vash the Stampede
anymore. You remember those silly stories we listened to every now
and again when we wandered through towns. No one knows the truth
anymore. No one ever knew the truth though, except you. Meryl maybe
to an extent, but I only told her the truth, I don't know if she
really ever understood or not. I'm glad we worked out our
differences. I'm also glad you kept your promise not to kill. You
and Rem should get along slightly better now."
Vash's throat tightened at the thought, even though it was humorous.
He thought he'd better finish quickly while he still could.
"I think I have to go now, I'm not going to be able to say anymore
today. Besides, that leaves me with more to say next year. Take care
of them, Knives. Please." He stepped back away from the row of
graves.
"Until next year."
He took off his glasses to wipe his eyes and caught a glimpse of his
reflection in the lenses, the same reflection that had stared back at
him for the past 300 years. He slung his heavy travel pack over his
shoulder once again and trudged away from the former July. He ran his
fingers through his spiked hair.
Only the barest tips of it were blonde now, the rest had turned black.
Knives had only spent slightly more energy in his hunt that Vash had.
He wondered how much longer he'd have to go on living outside of time.
quite a walk in the middle of the day." The driver scratched his head
and watched Vash the Stampede climb slowly out of the car, slinging a
travel bag over his shoulder and adjusting his yellow tinted glasses.
"Thank you for the ride." Was the simple reply as Vash handed
the driver 20 double dollars and shut the passenger side door. The
driver simply shrugged his shoulders, pocketed the money, and drove
away, leaving Vash the Stampede to himself in a cloud of dust.
What lay in front of Vash was a graveyard filled mostly with
dilapidated wooden crosses. Most had been felled by the dust storms,
but once a year Vash the Stampede came out to this site and cared for
the graveyard. Time had this place behind, as time had left behind
the legend of Vash the Stampede.
Every year, on his birthday, July 21st, he would come out here to
where the city of July once stood and care for the graves. He would
remember the people he saw milling around town that day so many years
ago, how he had completely destroyed their lives with his weapon.
Tears would creep out of the corners of his eyes and cut trails in the
dust that accumulated on his face as he straightened each and every
wooden cross, fixing the broken ones, marking the name carved into
them in his mental list to be sure that they were all there.
He had tried to abandon the gun that could cause so much destruction
back in Demetery after he had found and defeated Knives. Knives had
simply gone back for it and insisted he carry it for protection. Vash
had complied reluctantly. He had wanted to leave the gun and the red
coat back with his old life. But he had forgotten the lesson that all
those years searching for revenge had taught him, that you can never
run away from the past. After awhile he had begun wearing the red
coat again as well, both as a symbol of determination and as a mark of
an outlaw. People had died while he wore that coat, and trying to
leave their memories behind was wrong. So he wore it to remember the
ones that time had forgotten, but the ones who lived outside of time
never would.
He finished up the last few replacement crosses, carving the names
into the surface and placing them over the graves where the crosses
had been blown away. After wiping the wood shavings away from the
last freshly carved name, he looked out over what once had been the
great city of July, but now was only a cemetery that didn't mean
anything to anyone but himself. He allowed the tears on his face to
dry before tending to the last few graves, the ones that hadn't lived
in July, but were out here because this was a place for people he had
changed.
He walked up to the first grave, marked not by a small wooden cross,
but by a large cross wrapped in cloth. It had been tipped over in the
wind, but miraculously still remained after all these years. Looters
had probably stopped coming out this far long ago, and even if they
did, the cross was probably too heavy for them to lift.
"Wolfwood... it's been awhile."
Vash's throat closed off, making it very hard to say anything else.
He didn't know what to say, same as every year. Here was the man that
taught him friendship. Here also was a man who had taken the lives of
so many people out of his own free will. Wolfwood had had a different
education than Vash, and Wolfwood had learned that the people he
killed were wicked people that caused pain and that the World would be
a much better place without them.
Vash knew that everyone had the right to live, and that people can
change. He hadn't ever been able to show Wolfwood.
Just before Wolfwood's death, they had fought over the Gung-Ho Gun
called Zazie the Beast. Wolfwood hadn't seen the small boy cry out in
his sleep. Wolfwood had only seen the Gung-Ho Gun threatening the
lives of children and a town with giant insects at his command, so
Wolfwood shot him without any questions asked when he had everyone
else held up at gunpoint. Vash had tried to make him see that
everyone had a right to live right then, but Wolfwood simply walked
away. Vash knew that it had scarred Wolfwood to kill the child.
They'd tried to talk later, and Wolfwood had almost seen Vash's way of
thinking, but then the Gung-Ho Guns interrupted again, and when Vash
came back, Wolfwood was mortally wounded. Vash had let him die
peacefully in the church that day.
Perhaps just before he died, he had seen. There was some reason he
felt it necessary to go to the church, after all.
Wolfwood had also taught Vash that no matter how hard you fight for
something, sometimes you can never win. Vash never could figure out
what Wolfwood had been fighting for, why he was traveling with that
chip on his shoulder and fighting injustices, but he had died trying
to obtain his goal.
Vash moved onto the next grave marked Meryl Stryfe. Hers was still in
perfect shape after the sun and winds had been unforgiving for another
year. Meryl had died at a young age as a result of being with Vash.
The wounds associated with Meryl's death were torn open anew when he
beheld her grave, even though her death had happened over 150 years
ago.
"Meryl... here I am again. I know you'd love to see me. I'm just
waiting for the punch to the face for taking so long." A solitary
tear rolled down his cheek.
Meryl was different than the rest. He felt more responsible for her
death than anyone else's, even Legato Bluesummers. He knew how much
he meant to the short-tempered woman. She had meant quite a bit to
Vash, and he couldn't stand to see her put in danger as a result of
being with him. After so many years of dodging the bounty hunters
that recognized him every now and again, sometimes you were a bit slow
with the dodge. Vash decided it was safer for her to stay away from
him permanently after she had gotten a bullet through her leg that
caused her to limp severely. He knew she couldn't dodge anymore, and
next time the bounty hunters wouldn't miss her.
Vash never told her she wasn't going to see him again.
He still remembered the final goodbye down to the very last detail.
The two of them walked out to the car Vash had been using at the
time. It was dark, they could only see by the light from the windows
of the homes lining the street. At that time, it only rained once
every twenty years or so, but it was doing it that night. It was as
if the heavens mourned for him. That night they were both soaked as
they walked together. When they reached the car, Vash looked down at
the woman, looked into her face. The rain drops gathered together and
ran in small rivers down her cheeks, almost like she was crying. She
was not meeting his gaze, instead looking at the ground. They were
both tired. Perhaps if she had been aware of the fact he was leaving
her, more meaningful conversation would've passed between them. Vash
opened the car door and spoke.
"Have fun."
Meryl looked up at him, her hair collecting in ropelike strands and
sticking close to her head. She gave him a strange look and simply
said "Yea."
Vash drove away, tears mingling with the rainwater on his face. He
knew it was wrong not to tell her, but he also knew she would follow
him if she found out he wasn't coming back, and that was the last
thing he wanted.
Six weeks later, Meryl Stryfe was killed by a bounty hunter trying to
get to Vash. If he had known she was being held captive, he would've
been there in a second. Instead, he found out about it a year later
when he went back to hear word about how the girls were doing.
He shuffled over to the next grave, which was tipped over and buried
in the sand. He cleared the dust out of the name carving on the
center. He traced it with his fingers and spoke out loud.
"Milly Thompson. I'm so sorry about what you had to see. Noone like
you should have to go through that. You always bore everything else
with a smile and perseverance, but I guess that was the last straw.
No one can go on forever. I know, I know. I say the same thing every
year. I promise next time I'll bring pudding and act more upbeat. I
know you would have." He smiled in spite of himself.
Meryl was around 38 when she had died. Milly was still living with
her at the time, but was visiting her family when the bounty hunter
came. She remained with her family for two years after Meryl's death
and after she quit her job at Bernardelli. It took a serious toll on
her health. Meryl had been her best friend ever since they'd started
working together 18 years ago. After Meryl died, it was as if Milly
lost her will to live. She was no longer her happy-go-lucky self,
instead she was devoid of personality. One day she simply didn't wake
up.
Milly Thompson died of a heart attack at age 42. Vash heard about it
two days after it happened. It was easy to convince her family to
bury her alongside Meryl. It had been easy to have the funeral home
move Meryl's body out to July since she had no family.
The next grave stood well away from the row that the other special
ones were in, but it was still there, still standing upright. It was
smaller than the rest, and unmarked. Legato Bluesummers. Vash only
stood at it momentarily. He had long ago repented over the sin of
taking someone's life. Legato Bluesummers had been an awful person
that had made him choose between the life of a wicked man who had
caused suffering and death to countless people and the lives of the
people he cared about. Even though Legato had deserved life, he had
done much less with his than Milly and Meryl had with their own, so
Vash chose him in the end. It was the only life he had taken in his
300 year existence. But still he remembered the sound the gun made
when ejecting the bullet, the smell of the gunpowder, the bullet
connecting with the skull of his victim, then the small smile as life
fled Legato's body and he crumpled to the ground. Legato was there to
remind him that he had sinned, no matter the circumstances, despite
the fact he didn't need the reminder. It was more of a verification,
seeing every year the spot where he lie.
He moved on to the oldest grave on the planet. He said nothing at
this one, he never did because he felt words from the mouth of a
sinner like himself would offend the person resting here. He knelt
and planted a red geranium on the spot. An ornately carved cross that
Vash had done himself was there and marked with a name, but no body
lie underneath the sand. All of Rem Saverem's remains had been
vaporized when the ship she had been on exploded. But this spot was
here for the woman that only Vash kept the memory of.
He had always been tempted to tell as many people as he could that the
reason they were all on this planet was because of a woman named Rem
Saverem. He wanted to take them to this spot and tell them this is
where she is to be remembered, everyone should pay their respects. He
told no one but Meryl Stryfe of Rem Saverem. All human memory of Rem
had died with Meryl over a hundred years ago. Her influence still
lived on in the people walking the planet everyday.
No, Vash never told anyone of the person that made their lives
possible. However, he made an effort to tell everyone he could about
her philosophies. Whenever he stopped a conflict and no one died, the
people learned of Rem's philosophies. Whenever Vash took a beating in
place of someone else, the crown learned of Rem's philosophies.
Whenever he was playing with kids and they asked him about what he
thought of something, they learned of Rem's philosophies. To Vash,
this was the most important woman on the planet. She was the most
important woman ever, no matter what anyone else thought.
Rem Saverem. If only people knew.
The last grave was marked with an ornate cross carved with vines and
flowers, just like Rem. The ornate carvings on both were to mark
family. This grave contained the still-decomposing body of Millions
Knives. Knives had died two months ago, having spent all his energy.
Sadly, Vash was the last plant left on the planet, all the ones in
captivity had died out over a hundred years ago. Luckily the systems
they maintained were picked up and run by the planet itself and the
people were still able to survive. The rains had been the first sign
that the people were going to live after the plants expired. Knives
had spent a great deal of energy hunting Vash all those years ago,
more than Vash had spent hunting him, so Knives was the first to
die.
"Knives... brother... this is my first visit to your grave. Don't
worry though, if you ask the others, they'll tell you that I come out
here every year. I've run out of things to say to them though. That
kinda happens after a hundred years." Bitter tears ran down Vash's
face as he addressed Knives. He turned briefly to the other 5 graves
that he had honored with memories that afternoon and spoke.
"Since you guys haven't heard me ramble in so long, you can listen
while I talk to Knives. There are no secrets among us now." He
turned back to Knives.
"This place I've had them put you is for the special people in my
life. You remember July, when you triggered my Angel Arm? That was
this place. Most of those hundreds of graves are from the residents
of July. Some of them are from August, but luckily most of the people
there evacuated before my Angel Arm went off. I come out here every
year though not only to honor the lives I ruined, but to honor the
lives that changed me. It's a sad thing to see you join their
ranks. I always assumed I'd die before you. The innumerable scars on
my body are proof enough to back that up. Unfortunately, your
obsessions outdid mine and you lie here now."
"I put you next to Rem since you were the only other one here that
knew her personally. Revnant Vasquez was a relative of hers, but he
wasn't even born yet when she died. Only you and I know her. Despite
the fact you DID know her personally, you hated her with every fiber
of your being even after our showdown in Demetery. Why, Knives?!
Just because Joey treated us harshly all those years ago doesn't mean
that every human is bad! I know you saw that to an extent after our
duel, but you never fully believed in the human race. If only you'd
listened to Rem... I wouldn't have this cemetery to mourn in every
year! Think of the Utopia that would've been had you not ended
Project SEEDS prematurely. This planet is Hell, and the inhabitants
generally adapt to it, making them much more violent and corrupt than
they would be in a better environment. But I promised a long time ago
to stop blaming you for that. I know you felt bad."
"Knives, I'll really miss your company. You're the last friend and
family I've got. Now that you've left, there's nothing left for me to
do but live. I have to spend the rest of my days in Hell alone. I
have no one that can relate to me on this planet now. I don't even
have anyone that can relate to the legend of Vash the Stampede
anymore. You remember those silly stories we listened to every now
and again when we wandered through towns. No one knows the truth
anymore. No one ever knew the truth though, except you. Meryl maybe
to an extent, but I only told her the truth, I don't know if she
really ever understood or not. I'm glad we worked out our
differences. I'm also glad you kept your promise not to kill. You
and Rem should get along slightly better now."
Vash's throat tightened at the thought, even though it was humorous.
He thought he'd better finish quickly while he still could.
"I think I have to go now, I'm not going to be able to say anymore
today. Besides, that leaves me with more to say next year. Take care
of them, Knives. Please." He stepped back away from the row of
graves.
"Until next year."
He took off his glasses to wipe his eyes and caught a glimpse of his
reflection in the lenses, the same reflection that had stared back at
him for the past 300 years. He slung his heavy travel pack over his
shoulder once again and trudged away from the former July. He ran his
fingers through his spiked hair.
Only the barest tips of it were blonde now, the rest had turned black.
Knives had only spent slightly more energy in his hunt that Vash had.
He wondered how much longer he'd have to go on living outside of time.