Note: I do not own Trigun. I'm not making money off this. Don't prosecute me please.
Uh... Yeah. So as fair warning, this fic contains non-canon characters. It takes place before the main events of the anime. First Trigun fic also, might be out-of-character points. Reviews and criticism welcome... Try to enjoy it.
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Legato Bluesummers was the smallest of boys in the town of Renaud, a shadow of a boy more pariah than human. His home and family had been destroyed only a year before, but already the effects of an outcast's street life were showing. His damp, bloodshot golden eyes bulged from their sockets, trying to regain ground that they had lost when his eyes had sunken into his face with the rest of his skin. He weighed next to nothing, a thin paper bag of bones and blood topped by a matted mess of blue hair. He was the ugly poster child for emaciation, a model of malnutrition. He dug in the trashcans with the dogs for scraps and fought them for space in which to sleep. If no one in the town had known of the way in which his family had met their demise, he may never have faced such a bleak and horrid existence as he experienced right now.
This day, however, was to be the dawning of a new time in the boy's life. Blood red skies blossomed overhead in the early hours, the residents of town sleeping late on a lazy workless morning in their warm beds. The boy lay clothed in rags and uncovered under the red sky, and would have been mistaken for dead by the casual passerby if they had not stopped to watch his fitful breathing as he slept, his sunken chest spasmodically rising and falling from the exertion that his tiny lungs used to rise against the bones, fueled by what little resources his body had ever stored.
Legato.
The voice awoke him from his shallow sleep. The Bluesummers boy opened his eyes and raised his head to search about, straining himself from the effort that it took him to even move the muscles of his neck. His eyes could find nothing, not human nor dog upon the barren dirt streets. It must have been his own mind calling him to death. It was not be entirely unwelcome.
I have found you.
But now, a sight came to his weary, watery eyes, a sight of beauty so wonderful that he felt he would be blinded by its brilliance even as he stared upon it.
It was an angel of the morning, a man taller than the sky and more glorious than the noonday sun. His eyes were like ice and His hair as snow, and His eyes now were set only on the small and worthless boy who laid before him, the boy called Legato Bluesummers. A smile that was colder than the night spread across His face as He looked on the boy, and the boy felt his heart leap into his throat, pounding harder than it ever had before or would thereafter. This angel looked upon him and only him, and its eyes told him that his time had come.
"Ta-" Legato croaked, and began to cough as his dry and dusty throat caught up with this attempted plea, but struggled through it in his violent fervor to speak to this angel, "Take me! Take me with you!"
You want me to take you? To take you where?
"Take me to heaven." Legato smiled in his most hopeful way, wanting nothing more than to please this angel, and began to cry. "Take me with you to where the angels are."
That frozen smile grew wider, and He came forward to Legato, kneeling down before him and peering into the pathetic and ruined face of the boy.
Yes. We will go to heaven.