Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun. It's owned by the genius, Yasuhiro Nightow, anime director Satoshi Nishimura, ect, ect. I am making no money from this; this is just for fun, a blurb of my imagination that came after reading some nice fanfictions about Vash and Knives' early life.
"Young Guns"
The blond figure stared down the barrel of the silver revolver, watching the sunlight glint off its edges. His body trembled as he fired off a single shot; his ears met a moment later by a piercing scream.
"You…shot me!"
Knives raised his own gun, smiling sinisterly. "Your turn!"
Vash ran, ducking behind the wide trunk of a mature apple tree to avoid the spray of water. The twins were stripped to the waist, their long hair tied back. The boys had snuck out to the Recreation Room early in the ship's artificial morning to play. Knives took charge, forming the day's battle plan. He said it would be best for he and Vash to strip down to their shorts so they wouldn't get too wet, and that their hair would get in the way of their vision if they didn't tie it back.
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So, yawning, they clambered out of their bed and tiptoed to the bathroom of the chamber they shared with Rem. They hopped up on the sink, staring at their nearly identical Gemini reflections in the large vanity mirror. Knives gathered Vash's long hair gingerly in his small hands, brushing the long locks gently, binding it in a ponytail with one of their guardian's scrunchies. The twins turned around on the sink and Vash started brushing Knives' hair.
"Rem says we need a haircut," Vash said. "Do you think it will hurt?"
"No, I don't think so," Knives replied. "Remember what she told us? Hair doesn't have any nerves in it or anything, so it doesn't feel bein' cut."
The twins slid down from the sink and took their new toys from their shorts pockets. They opened up the empty compartments and turned on the sink faucet, filling them up carefully.
"Don't splash so much," Vash whispered, "we don't want to leave a mess, and we don't want to wake her up."
Gently turning off the bathroom light, the boys crept back into the main bed quarters and toward the door to the main corridor. Vash stopped, staring.
"Come on!" Knives coaxed, what are you waiting for?
"Are you sure it's alright?" Vash asked, his gaze fixed on the larger of two beds in the room. Rem stirred in her sleep, her left hand grabbing at the thin blanket covering her body, her long dark hair streaming out beside her like a black river. Her eyelids fluttered and she mumbled, lost in a deep dream.
"Don't worry, Vash." Knives soothed. "Joey said it's nothing like what went on in their world, that it's all just fun. It's just pretend. He said she should lighten up."
That was a strange thing, to Vash's memory. It was usually Rem who told the rest of the crew to lighten up. Rem did not like guns, and was adamant about it. Vash fingered the squirt pistol in his right hand, feeling like he was betraying her, though she probably wouldn't object to his and Knives' simple fun, even with Joey's martial gifts. She had voiced concern when the captain had given the water guns to them, for she did not want her boys to learn violence. She said that people should never forget the original purpose for guns – even models, non-functional decorative firearms, and toys. Guns were originally weapons. Guns were destructive.
Though, Vash and Knives' new toys were nothing like the firearms that the crew was required to keep. Rem had a gun, though the twins had never seen her carry it, locked away in a small safe to which only she knew the combination. The SEEDS crew guns were very sophisticated, laser-guided, things that even a novice gunman could fire with perfect accuracy. The twins' squirters were patterned after primitive revolvers used in the Ancient American West.
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"Aaaaayaaaah!" Vash yelped, jumping as a frigid sensation hit his back.
"Yahahahahaa!" Knives laughed, speeding off to avoid Vash's watery vengeance.
The boys chased each other past a hedge of bushes, frightening a small deer from her resting spot. Knives spun around and fired a stream of cold clear liquid at Vash, who dodged, the water harmlessly splattering on the ground.
"Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!" he chimed.
"Hah! We'll see!" Knives hissed through gritted teeth.
"Aaaaaaaaah! No fair! No fair! You put ice in yours, when I wasn't looking, didn't you, Knives?"
"So what if I did? The expressions on your face…hahahaha!"
"Grrrr. Take that!"
"Aaaaaaaah! I'm wet now! I can't believe you got me again!"
"Right in the face, too! Hahahhahahaaaa! You look so silly, Knives!"
"Vash? I got an idea."
Knives stood still, his partially wetted hair dripping on the grass where the strands were soaked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He held his gun down, aimed harmlessly at the ground.
"What kind of idea?" Vash inquired, holding his own weapon down as well - A silent truce, for the moment.
"You know those stories we've been reading?" Knives said, "And those old video files we've been watching in the library? You know, the ones about the Ancient American West, with the cowboys and gunfighters and stuff… You want to play pretend?"
"Sure!" Vash excitedly cried. "But… who will we be? I wanna be Wyatt Earp!"
"No, no," said Knives, "I see you as more of a Jesse James or Billy the Kid… Okay, we are in a small town where I'm the sheriff and you are the outlaw whose been terrorizing it…"
"But I don't wanna be the outlaw!" Vash whined. "Why can't I be the sheriff?"
"Cause I wanna be the sheriff and I said so." Knives huffed. "Are you playing or not?"
"Okay, okay."
So, a dejected Vash stood several feet away from Knives, and the two began a little speech – a make-believe showdown.
Knives spit on the ground, pretending like he was chewing tobacco, and stood bowlegged. "So I finally found ya, ya dirty dog! Ya know, this town ain't big enough for the two of us."
Vash stood bowlegged as well. "Yer right, this town ain't big enough for the two of us. So, sheriff, are ya all talk or are ya gonna draw?"
The twins drew in perfect synchronization and fired. A plash of water landed on the already dew-damp grass beside Vash's feet. Vash's own shot landed home in the center of Knives' chest.
"Aaaaaauuuuuuugh! That's cold!"
"Hah, hah! I shot the sheriff! I shot the sheriff!" Vash laughed as he gleefully ran off over a hill, Knives coming as fast as he could after him. Roughly a minute later, Knives ran back in the other direction.
"Oh, no! The grenades! That's no fair, Vash! We were supposed to agree on when to use the grenades!"
A fat, water filled balloon hit Knives in the center of the back, sending him sprawling in the grass, soaked from head to toe. The day before, he and Vash had snuck into the medical bay and confiscated some un-powdered rubber gloves. Clandestinely, they filled them with water and made a stockpile behind a "secret bush" of theirs, a stock of "grenades" for today's secret battle.
Before Knives could get up, another plump glove sailed for him, exploding on his head and soaking his hair thoroughly. Vash came running up the hill, two more bombs in his hands, ready to "finish off" his opponent.
The twins both paused when the Recreation Room's door opened. Rowan stepped in, in full uniform, sipping a cup of coffee.
"Hey…" he asked, "What are you two doing up so early?"
"Just playing, sir." Vash chimed, setting down his water balloons and helping Knives up. Knives brushed the grass off his shorts and wet skin. Bits of green clung stubbornly to his hair.
Rowan shook his head. "So much for spending some time alone before shift… come on, boys, we need to get you cleaned up and in fresh clothes. Rem will be furious with me if I let you catch a cold."
Knives sneezed and shivered, as did Vash. They were both thoroughly wet.
A panicked cry sounded from Rowan's communication badge. "My boys! Where are they? Vaaaaash! Knives!"
"It's all right, Rem, they're just in here."
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Lady Shadowcat, 2002.
Do all the readers have cavities now? Whoa…such a departure from the creepy and angsty fics I usually write. I hope it was enjoyable for those craving a fic with some happiness.