Third chapter is up. Of course, I have a wholebunch of chapters already written. I just have to post them. This is the third chapter posted in a row. Please review!

Disclaimer: I, Sutoomu(Storm), do NOT own Gundam Wing in any way. None at all. this fanfiction was made purely for fun and does not get me money in any way. Besides, it's not as though I have any money to be sued for...

Hiryonin Ichimei

Slave Life

Storm

Heero sighed as he received the news that Trowa had 'stealthed' off along with the evidence of the golden sash from the two guardsmen. Tiper-Hayne took it as a sigh of frustration and advised they take a break for some wine and a midday bite. Heero could have jumped in joy as he heard this, but he contained himself as Archine now took the lead, heading for the doors which led inside. He led Heero down a long corridor, the entire company silent. Heero began to change his thinking, deciding that Trowa had had the right idea all along. He now agreed with him completely. You can't choose a personal slave by walking down a line. He nodded to himself, sure in his decision, then proceeded to 'stealth'. He heard a few guardsmen curse as they found his silver sash, Archine and Tiper-Hayne asking where he was. He didn't care that he worried them. He was tired and agitated and wanted to sleep the rest of the day away, or knock off some steam with his knives. He satisfied himself for finding a dark wooden hallway, obviously a slave hall, and walked down it silently, thinking.

Heero was disturbed from his thinking as a voice reached his ears from somewhere ahead. He looked up, searching for the source. It was a calm, peaceful voice, singing softly. He couldn't understand the words, it was in another language, but it flowed over him, calm and soothing and peaceful. He sought it out, finally coming to a heavy wooden door, the music drifting out the small barred window in it. He looked through, curious, and stared. Through the window he could see the small slave room, with the simple wooden floor, tiny table, and small bed common to slave rooms. The slave floor's slave rooms, of course, were much cleaner and brighter.

Heero's eyes fell upon who was singing, and he stopped, gazing through the small window. The slave singing sat upon the window ledge, one of the odd ones wide enough to fit upon with the bars, staring out. The slave was dark haired instead of fair, as most were at the slave floor, and his hair hung down his back in a long braid, which was unheard of. He sat, his hands holding his knees as he continued to sing, unaware of him. His clear voice trailed off with a last strange word, and he stared out the window in silence for a moment more until turning. He noticed Heero now and gave a start.. Prussian blue eyes met deep cobalt blue, almost violet like. They stared at each other for a moment.

"That was beautiful," Heero whispered. And it was. Heero was not normally one to be moved by music, but this had cut through his tough exterior, to the core of him.

"Thanks," the slave replied softly. "My mother used to sing it to me."

"Oh." They stared at each other for a few more moments, then the slave seemed to shake himself and smirked.

"So, who're you?" he asked cockily, completely changed to a more brusque manner.

Heero continued to stare in wonder at the slave as he replied. "I'm Heero Yuy. You?"

The slave grinned, his eyes flaring with what Heero recognized as downright rebellion. "I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie…Duo Maxwell!"

"Nice to meet you," Heero replied. He liked this slave. Brave and cocky, rebel from his black collar to his black sandals. "You're very talented at singing."

"Oh," he seemed to blush and rubbed the back of his head with a hand. "Yeah, I guess. Got it from my mum." He looked back up. "You here to buy a slave?"

Heero nodded slowly. "At the insistence of my father," he explained.

Duo nodded to himself and clicked his tongue, looking at Heero warily now. "So where's the old fool? Tiper-Hair or whatever his name is."

"Tiper-Hayne," Heero supplied and shrugged. "Probably looking for me. I slipped away. It's too stressful for me sometimes."

"Ah," Duo clicked his tongue again, a sound Heero was beginning to like. "Yeah. Tiper sure can get stressful." He stretched, chuckling, but the wariness was still in his eyes. "So, you a rich kid?"

"I guess," Heero replied.

"You gotta be," Duo affirmed. "As they say, 'if you're wealthy and wise, you buy at the slave floor'." He suddenly spat. "Bullshit to me."

Heero nodded. A rebel, he was. Not one of those pathetic humble creatures called slaves on the floor, waiting for his return right now.

"Why aren't you on the floor?" Heero asked.

Duo shrugged. "Supposedly, I ain't trained enough yet." He smiled mischeiviously. "Which means I ain't lickin' Tiper's boots yet. I ain't lickin' no boots yet." He added the last defiantly.

Heero smirked. He enjoyed this slave. He had spunk, and his eyes were alive and flashing. A sudden thought went through his mind, and he spoke. "May I buy you?"

Duo's eyes widened in surprise, then he chuckled. "You're asking me? Imagine that, a rich boy asking a slave if he can buy him."

"I'm serious," Heero nearly frowned. "May I buy you?"

Duo gaped, startled that Heero was serious about this. He shook his wits back into him and shrugged, scratching his head. "I guess. But you won't want me," he smirked. "I already been sent back three times. I wasn't humble enough."

"So I can buy you?" Heero asked again.

Duo looked at him, his smirk fading. "Sure, why not? Go ahead and buy me, rich boy. I need a change of scenery. Some good food for once, maybe."

Heero nodded. "Thank you, Duo." And he turned and walked away, leaving a very confused braided slave behind.

That is the third chapter! WOOT! I'm getting excited, heheh. Please review. Constructive critisism is welcome, but no flames, please. Enjoy!

Storm