Day 191
Each day is spent in training, Sit ups, push ups, jogging, stretching and any other useful exercises which come to mind he does diligently. Only stopping to eat and sleep when he can practice no more.
The reasons for such exertion are many; firstly they are to rebuild his body, to get his muscles working again. Secondly they are good training techniques; he knows that Vash also performs such exercise, though only for three hours each morning, not all day like Knives.
Thirdly it simply staves off boredom, after having spent approximately six months in bed, he is eager to be actually doing something. Besides, it is this or reading more of those trashy romance novels.
There are other reasons too, though. For a start the physical exertion keeps his mind busy, stops him from thinking, from pondering and worrying about what he has learned, what he has been told. This, to him, is most probably a good thing. It also leads him to sleep deeper, with fewer disturbing dreams, also a definite plus.
He was just doing some press ups when he spies something most odd.
A rod, with a long piece of string tied at the end, is being thrust through the single, small window of his room. At the other end of the string there is something... something dangling, shining.
Curious, he staggers up and moves towards it. It reminds him somewhat of a fishing rod, which was a piece of equipment people used on earth to capture small aquatic creatures. Knives has never seen one in action, but he heard of them from Rem. Undoubtedly this is working on a similar principle, and that thought makes him pause, he is being bated, after all.
He sneers at his own insecurity, foolish, he may be weak but even now he feels that, short of his brother and perhaps some of his old Gung ho guns were they still alive, there is none on this planet who could pose much of a threat to him.
So he moves closer and examines the object on the end of the string. It appears to be piece of candy. Someone has already sucked on it, the transparent, sweet substance it is covered in sand and dust. He wrinkles his nose at it, why would anyone try to tempt him with that?
Still, any opportunity for target practice…
He picks up the candy and, with a smooth over arm motion, flings it and string back through the window.
The rod withdraws quickly and, pricking his ears, Knives can just about catch the sound of voices outside. Hushed and indistinct.
He moves to the window, but it is too high for him to see out of. So he grabs the chair by his bed, the one Vash has used all these months and drags it underneath the porthole.
Wincing a little at the pain in his legs, he manages to step onto it, giving himself elevation enough to comfortably see out of the window.
What he sees makes him raise his pale eyebrows in surprise.
Outside a triad of children stand around, gazing at the candy he has just thrown back and whispering amongst themselves. They are all rather grubby looking, but aside from that they seem healthy enough. The eldest is a dark haired boy, who holds the rod in his hands. On either side of him are two red-heads, of roughly the same age. They look rather similar, in fact, so similar the he is tempted to think that they are related. Siblings, most probably
He cannot help but stare at them, he has not often seen children and he finds himself startled by the very size of them. They're so tiny, so delicate, the most perfect miniatures, he'd quite forgotten how deceptively beautiful they were. Yet, even as sweet as they appear, they would grow and twist, eating upon themselves, turning into adult spiders, sucking the life out of the very world that served as home.
'Why d'ya think he threw it back, Paul?' whispers one of the red heads and from the pitch of the voice Knives suddenly realizes that it is female. The dirt, short hair and under-developed body structure made it hard to tell. e Rea
'Dunno, Jen,' replies the dark haired one, obviously the leader, he turns his eyes upwards towards the window and gasps.
He had been spotted.
Resigning himself to fate, Knives forces a cold smile onto his face. As much as he dislikes humans, he does bare some small tolerance for children. Not liking, per say, but recognition that they are not completely corrupt. Of course, as humans they deserve extinction, they will grow up corrupted after all, but in their present state they're not entirely despicable.
He finds himself curious about them, about their motivations, the world in which they live. It has been over six months since he's talked to anyone except his brother, after all, it would not be entirely unpleasant to converse with someone else, even if it is a spider.
'Crap,' mutters the other red-head, this one male.
There is a long silence as the two parties regard each other, sizing each other up. On one side there is Knives, staring out of the window, with only his head visible. The wounds on his legs are becoming increasingly sore from standing in one position, but he ignores them. His gaze is fixed upon the trio of children, a small smile curls his lips, his eyes gleam cold in the sunlight.
The expressions on the children's faces are a mixture of shock, terror and fascination. Though they undoubtedly lack Knives willpower, they make more than enough up for it in sheer curiosity.
The children are first to break, 'are you Vash's brother?' asks the oldest, dark haired boy, whom Knives guesses is the one named Paul.
'I am,' replies Knives calmly, 'you know my brother well?'
'Yep. He plays with us most mornings.'
'I always get 'im in a head-lock,' pipes up the male red-head, grinning.
Knives manages to stop himself from sneering, Vash was always ridiculously soft and idiotic around children. Even more so than usual, that is.
'Why were you throwing pieces of candy into my room?' he asks coolly.
'We wanted to see you,' says Paul, equally nonchalant, 'we heard about you, heard you were sick, but ain't no one seen you never before.'
Knives is just working his way round this particular case of grammatical confusions when the girl, Jen, says 'everyone reckons you're crazy.'
'Really?' Knives doesn't even attempt to hide his grin now. It seems to unnerve the children.
'Are ya?' asks the other red-head.
'Am I what?'
'Crazy?'
Knives considers this question. It all depended on what one meant by 'crazy.' He supposed that, if one looked into the technical meaning of the term, as in one who was mentally abnormal, then it was perfectly true. There are very few upon this planet who think like him. However, by this term most of the greatest geniuses human kind had ever produced, (pathetic as they were, in Knives' opinion,) were also completely insane. Just because you were mentally abnormal did not mean you were wrong. He was sure he was right, after all and he was far more intelligent than these spiders.
'No,' he says at last, with great surety in his voice, 'I am not. However I am… unwell.'
'Oh…' mutters Paul, sounding a little downcast for some reason, as if he had rather hoped Knives was insane, 'when ya' coming out? Is it contagious?'
'What's con-tay-gee-ous?' whispers Jen to him.
Paul is about to reply, but Knives does it for him, 'it means is it a disease you could catch. The answer is no. I merely am recovering from some injuries. I've no idea when I'll be out.'
'Oh…' says Paul, shuffling his feet lazily in the sand.
'You sure you ain't crazy?' asks the other boy, sounding highly sceptical.
He gets elbowed in the ribs by Jen, 'Roberto!' she scolds.
'What do you think?' says Knives dryly.
Roberto, as he now appears to be known, looks at Knives critically, as if trying to assess him through childish eyes.
'You're alright,' he says at last, a note of serious approval in his tones.
'So glad you think so,' sneers Knives, sarcasm dripping from every word.
'Good!' obviously the child is too young to understand, the bullet of irony has flown straight over his head.
Knives sighs and shakes his head, he begins to step down of the chair, the conversation is boring him now.
'Hey, mister,' calls out Paul, 'where ya' goin'?'
'Back to bed,' informs Knives coolly, 'I suggest that you keep this meeting a secret, unless you want to be punished. I doubt you have permission from your parents to be talking to a 'crazy' man.'
'Oh… OK. Listen, if you want, when you're well you can come play with us or something.'
Knives snorts, 'I doubt it,' he says, and steps off the chair and out of their sight.
A few moments later he hears the scuffling of footsteps on sand, they've obviously fled.
Alone once again he grins, he'd had a full conversation with a group of spiders and had not been particularly tempted to snuff out their pitiful lives. Wouldn't Vash be proud of him.
He staggers to his bed, he'd been telling the truth. Standing in one position for so long, especially after heavy exercise, had caused his legs to ache abominably. He collapses against the bed and tucks himself in, sighing at the lack of pressure on his legs.
He tries to banish the meeting with the children from his mind, but the memory stays there, stubborn as a Thomas.
Had he ever been so innocent? Had Vash ever been so innocent? Oh, Vash acted like an idiot, he often was an idiot, though not as much of one as he pretended to be. Sentimental? Yes, certainly. Innocent? No, Vash had lost that many years ago, Knives had seen to that. Or tried to. Yet he'd kept something, not so much innocence, not even hypocrisy, but a knowledge that, whilst he'd inadvertently caused much evil (or what he perceived as evil, anyway, Knives personally thought that a good spider was a dead spider,) he could amend for it by doing good, (again, a personalised concept.) It was a ridiculously self deluded way to live, but Vash seemed determined to go that way.
Then again, stubbornness had also been a key part of his personality.
It was one of the few traits they shared.
Never the less, he had to envy him, on some level at least. To keep that amount of innocence, of purity when all about him a hell raged. To remain a child despite all he'd seen, all he'd suffered.
He almost wished he could have kept that innocence, also.
He sneered to himself, he was being a fool. Vash's 'innocence' had caused him untold amounts of suffering, had caused him to tolerate the presence of these disgusting insects upon the face of the planet. What was he thinking like this for? It sounded almost like jealousy.
Jealousy… was that why he'd acted as he had? Was he privately jealous of his brother? Is that way he wanted him to understand, to see and experience suffering, to take that innocence away from him. To remove the source of jealousy?
No, no, he was being a fool and a far too introspective one at last. This was nothing to do with jealousy. Nothing at all. He was right, he was being sensible and practical and realistic, there was no reason for self doubt here.
Trying to hold onto that thread of security, Knives lay back and closed his eyes, looking for sleep.
He soon found it, pain and exhaustion taking its toll on his injured body. His sleep was mostly peaceful and untroubled. Except for one, short dream, a dream of two, large, blue-green eyes, wide and sorrowful. Their childish innocence offended, muffled by some dreadful sight.
_Why?_ a small vice whispered hopelessly in the darkness, _why, Knives? Why?_
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AT LAST! Sorry about the delay folks, moving computers and stuff! I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.
Reader's Replies:
TheDreasmOfTheDead: :Blush: oh, you are so kind! Well, that's as good away to read Fanfic as any. I'm glad this makes you think, I also like that in a Fanfic, and I've tried to emulate that here. I'm asking a lot of questions, and I'm trying to allow the reader to come up with their own answers. It's what good story telling is about, I think.
Aoi: This, my dear Aoi, is what we call a plot hole. Sorry! But hey, cut a girl some slack, OK? Alright, here's an excuse… Knives probably has been practicing using his legs a little, but that chapter is just the first time he's been able to walk round more or less unaided. So his leg muscles haven't completely wasted away. Besides, he *is* a Plant and I'm NOT a doctor! Knives threw the knife because he wanted to regain some power, I suppose, to show he's not completely harmless. Remember, he's a proud and self reliant person, being cooped up in bed, almost helpless, has done him no good. As to what he was aiming for… well, only he (and I) know. And I ain't telling! Aren't I mean?
Silverarm: Hello again! I'm glad that chapter didn't disappoint, I sometimes go for the two steps ahead, one step back approach, because good ol' Knives is holding on very tenaciously to his values. If nothing else, he's stubborn, just like Vash! I hope you approve of this chapter too!
ATO: shounen ai fluff? In Trigun? WHERE? Lol! Glad to see you're enjoying this, sorry about the long delay in updating, like you I've been busy. And anyway, you've been helping the amazing Sailor Lilith-Chan (who kicks a$$ by the way,) write that fantastic fic known as The Message Boards. I love that! Please keep it up! Anyway, I don't mind short reviews at all, though I would like a long review of this when it's all over, if you can manage it. For now simply knowing that you're reading this is enough! Keep reviewing, no matter how short, it will be adored!
Ron the Future Weasel: I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Heh, I'm glad you liked the imagery here, I must confess it was one of those scenes that just jumped into my head and, when it was written, made me feel really smug. Ah, who knows what will happen when Knives is up and around… you'll have to read to find out!
Angelstryke: No problem! It's a great fic, as I hope my reviews have indicated, I'm eager for future updates. Heh, I think, with his lifestyle, Vash has already learned how to duck and run plenty well enough! It isn't as if he hasn't had much practice. I'm afraid we won't see any of Knives's riding abilities (he can hardly walk now!) I just dumped that in for a dab of humour, and to make him less perfect. Sometimes in fics, aside from his obvious flaws, he seems perfect, you know? I like the idea of him being weak in some areas too, just like Vash. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations, let me know either way!
TerribleT: Zoot? Oh yes, and after that the oral :AHEM!:
Heh, thanks for the return glomp, why did Knives throw the knife? Well, read Aoi's reply for my answer to that, basically it's a confidence/power thing. Sorry to make this so short, but I if I keep writing such long replies I won't have room enough for story!
Oh yes and… NEEEEEEEE!
Lady Zephyr: And the winner for best line in the review's section goes too…
Seriously, thanks for that comment! But honestly, aside from all the deep, psychological/historical reasons for our dear Knives becoming a psychopath, I do think his name must have had something to do with it. I mean, what woman would name her child Million Knives?
Next chapter… Knives meets more humans! Very special humans… be sure to stick around because it's gonna be a good one!