Circle Life
by volta arovet
part one: Little Plant
The residents of Newsky City would be quick to inform you that the second syllable of their proud city's name is pronounced "sky" as in the great blue expanse above, not "ski" as in the snow sport, thank you very much. Of course, the residents of Newsky City don't exactly know what snow was—it would take at least another hundred years before they could properly control the desert planet's climate. Still, the residents of Newsky City were very emotionally invested in the pronunciation of their name—as a visitor, the proper pronunciation would get you the best hospitality they had to offer, but the wrong pronunciation would get you nothing but stale donuts.
The blue coat-clad plant engineer had never mispronounced the city's name, he would be happy to inform you. He would be surprised if he ever mispronounced it—after all, he had been visiting this group of people back when the city's name was simply "Sky City" and it had inhabited a slightly higher location.
Right now, the spiky-haired engineer was concentrating on the control panel in front of him, nodding amiably at his stressed companion's comments. "As you can see, all of the controls are in perfect working condition, as far as we can tell. We've checked them twice and can't find any problems—"
"They seem to be fine," the engineer agreed.
"—so we think that the problem might be with the plant itself. We haven't had any problems today, but yesterday there was a strange series of bursts of energy we can't explain. I don't know if it's safe to run energy from the plant. I'm so worried, I don't know what we'd do if you hadn't stopped by, Mr. Engineer."
The engineer held up a gloved hand. "Please, call me Vash," he said, smiling widely.
The worker returned his smile nervously, passing a hand through his untidy brown hair. "Vash, then. Do you think you can help us?"
Vash paused dramatically, the modestly said, "I'll do what I can."
He hefted his Important Bag of Secret Repair Equipment and headed toward the room where the plant was encased. The young worker hurried after him. "Do you mind if I watch? I've never seen someone do maintenance on the actual plant."
As Vash reached the doorway to the inner chamber, he spun about and struck a serious pose. A gust of wind blew about the tails of his long blue coat in a very dramatic fashion—curious, since he was indoors in an area of the world where sudden gusts of wind were uncommon.
"Do not follow me," his voice echoed around the cavernous hallway. "The work I do is very delicate, and the slightest misstep could cause an overload, resulting in my death, and possibly the destruction of both the plant and half the city." He turned his head away so it was half covered in shadows. "My job is a perilous one, and I would not wish it on anyone. Do not risk your life by entering with me. If I do not return within an hour…wait longer." With that, he swept into the plant's room, leaving the bewildered worker behind.
As soon as he was out of sight, Vash leaned against the wall and sighed, "Yaaaah…that was so dramatic. I only wish some beautiful woman was there to hear my speech."
Lamenting over, Vash turned his attention to the plant. Hands spread out openly, forehead pressed against the protective glass, Vash closed his eyes and…he could only describe it as reaching. A familiar presence brushed against Vash's mind as he felt something come into his reach. He opened his eyes to see the wonderful, delicate creature greeting him. He smiled warmly.
"Hello, pretty girl. How are you feeling?" he asked tenderly. He felt a positive response come from the plant.
"Really? I heard that you had some troubles yesterday." The plant was confused. "A series of random energy bursts?" Vash prompted.
The plant did the equivalent of giggling and gave an explanation. Vash's smile returned as he stepped away from the plant. "That's a relief." He sat down next to the wall, opened up his Important Bag of Secret Repair Equipment, and removed a box of donuts and a beer.
"How have things been? Are they treating you well?" Yes, they were; she was very happy. "Is there anything you'd like?" Him to visit more often, of course! The soft petals of her 'legs' fluttered teasingly at him.
"I'm sorry, I've been busy!" he said defensively before biting into a donut. "Ooh! Heavenly. I've always said that Newsky made the best donuts." He closed his eyes and sank into Bliss Mode for a moment. "It's a pity you don't eat," he informed the plant.
The plant eyed his beer and smiled winningly. Plants may not be able to eat, but they were able to absorb liquids. "Oh no you don't. You're only 80 years old, little one, and I'm not going to give alcohol to a baby." She pouted cutely at him. "No means no." She sulked for a moment.
"I saw your mother last week," Vash said brightly, changing the topic. "She's doing just fine, but she wishes you'd contact her more often. She worries about you."
The plant did the equivalent of rolling her eyes. "I know you can take of yourself," Vash said patiently, "but we can't help worrying about our youngest plant."
The plant grinned wickedly and dropped a bombshell of a hint. Vash's eyes widened and he dropped the remaining half of a donut. "What? You 'won't be the youngest for long…' There's going to be a new plant?" Vash's smile broadened. "Who's the mother going to be?" The plant smiled coyly but refused to respond. "C'mon, tell me. Pleeeease?" She shook her head, 'giggling' again.
No matter how much he tried to wheedle and plead, she refused to give him any more information. Finally, Vash slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Mou, you're a stubborn lady. I guess I'll have to find out for myself. Maybe the next one I visit will be more talkative about it."
The plant posed a question to him, and Vash paused for a moment before regretfully answering, "No, I haven't visited Knives recently. It's been about eight months, actually. I was planning on heading towards New July next. Why, have you been communicating with him?"
The plant nodded enthusiastically. "Good, I'm glad that you're still friends. I know I've told you this before, but," he paused and looked into the plant's perfect, smooth eyes, "thank you. For helping him, for making him understand. You can't know how much I…just…thank you." The plant blushed and bobbed her head modestly.
Vash swiftly repacked his Important Bag of Secret Repair Equipment and headed toward the door. "I need to get going. I have a very nervous person waiting for me to reassure him that you're all right."
The plant 'hmphed' and looked at him pointedly.
"Ohhh, riiight, I almost forgot. You want your song. Let me think, what's a new one?" He cleared his throat, opened his mouth as wide as it could go, and belted out,
"Ohhhhh!
"I'm a little hunk of tin,
"Nobody knows where I have been.
"I've got four wheels and a running board,
"I'm a four-by-four-by-four!"
Vash took a deep bow, the tips of his pointy hair just barely brushing against the ground. The plant 'giggled' appreciatively and thanked him.
"There, you have another one for your collection," he informed the plant. "Now I really have to go. Goodbye, pretty girl."
The plant enthusiastically waved her hand after him before floating back to disappear into the depths of her globe.
Vash emerged to meet the worker, who was currently wringing his hands with worry. His eyes met Vash's, which held an unreadable expression.
"Well?" the worker prompted.
"Everything is under control. The problem probably won't happen again, but if it does, you don't need to worry because it's not dangerous at all." Vash struck a proud pose to accent his job well done. The dramatic effect of the pose was decreased drastically when the worker flung his arms around him, crying.
"I was so worried!" he sobbed.
Vash awkwardly patted him on the back. "There, there. It's okay, um, what was your first name?"
"Bob," the worker squeaked out.
"It's okay, Bob," Vash finished lamely.
Bob finally released Vash, drying his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket.
"I'm sorry about that, it's just that I've only been in charge for about a month, and then my second in command and third in command called in sick yesterday and today, and then we had problems with the plant, and then I just didn't know what I'd do if anything went permanently wrong with the plant!" Bob exclaimed in one breath.
"Everything's all right," Vash reassured him again. Bob got himself under control.
"Do you mind if I ask what went wrong with the plant yesterday?" Bob asked shyly, brushing his matted brown hair out of his eyes.
"There's a highly scientific explanation for what happened, so I don't know if you'll understand, but here goes nothing," Vash said seriously. "She had the hiccups."
Bob blinked once. He blinked again. He straightened his glasses, scratched his head, and blinked his pale brown eyes a third time. "…what?"
Vash slapped him on the back and led him down the hallway. "Never mind. Do you want to get a beer?"
Bob shrugged. "Sure." After all, he supposed it was time for a celebration. The two sauntered out of the power plant, Vash talking a mile a minute about this lovely bar he had passed on the way to the plant and how wonderful it would be to see all the beautiful women there. Bob interjected the occasional word or phrase, but allowed Vash to do the leading in the conversation.
Finally, when they were on the street, Bob cleared his throat and said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Shoot," Vash said, and pointed his hand at Bob, his fingers shaped into the symbol for a gun. At that moment, he noticed a pair of pretty women walking in the other direction. He pointed his finger at one of them and whispered, "Bang" in a sultry voice, all the while smiling invitingly at them. The women giggled to each other but kept on walking.
"What generation of 'Vash' are you?" Bob asked. Vash's attention was brought back to the conversation, and he was rather confused. He looked at Bob quizzically. "It's for a stupid bet I made with my coworkers," Bob explained sheepishly. "We're plant engineers—we kind of don't get out much. Anyway, for as long as I can remember there's been someone named Vash who comes to check on the plant, and my father says that as long as he can remember there's been someone named Vash who comes to check on the plant, and my grandfather says that his father told him that the person who brought our plant was named Vash, so either you're the youngest looking hundred-year-old I've ever seen or you just pass the name on to the next generation."
Vash was amused, both by the younger man's rationalization of the facts and by the younger man's incredible lung capacity—he had managed to say it all in one breath again.
Bob drew a few deep breaths, then continued. "Jack says that he thinks you're the third Vash, but Karen thinks you're at least the fourth Vash, and I think you go all the way back to the legendary Vash the Stampede, which would make you at least the sixth Vash, so I was wondering—"
Bob's rambling was cut off by a man's voice yelling, "Hey, Vash, get back here!"
Vash turned to see a dark-haired man scoop up a tiny child. "What did I tell you about staying nearby when we're out?" the father chided gently. "It's not safe to go wandering off by yourself, Vash."
"Sorry, Daddy," the little girl mumbled petulantly. Vash gaped: this undeniably female girl shared a name with him? The man ruffled the girl's hair affectionately. "Da-ad!" she complained, obviously embarrassed.
Vash was set to turn away, dismissing it as an embarrassing coincidence, when the dark-haired man locked eyes with him. Silver-gray met blue-green and something strange seemed to dance in the air between them. Vash was confused, but the stranger's expression was one of dawning comprehension.
Vash gasped when he heard the stranger's next words—a name he hadn't heard in over a hundred years.
"Well, Tongari: long time no see," the stranger said with a familiar confident smirk.
"Wolfwood?"
