Word count: 250
Paradox
Kira had difficulty finding himself sometimes. A sunset, glorious and brilliant, only made him think of Heliopolis. Space, the stars, a pelican flying across the sky-- he thought of motherships, off to destroy something else.
Even sand…letting it sift through his fingers, feeling the heat it left behind, Kira envisioned a burning desert, flames encroaching the blue of the skies and leaving them coal-black.
When he looked at the sea, Kira saw no beauty, only hatred boiling before a storm. He told himself to think otherwise, to lighten up, to take pleasure in living again.
He knew he had to be strong. To prove false everything that attempted to justify the war, he had to live, be happy, practice peace, advocate what was right. He had a role to play in all this, an instrument that would complete the broken melody and make it beautiful.
But the world's problems were too large for him to deal with-- yes, even him, the Ultimate Coordinator!-- and Kira's mind, like a rat in a maze, always underwent the same paths.
And the next time his mobile suit came out of hiding, the cycle would begin anew. What a joke; for, in order to gain peace, he had to fight, and watch the flowerbeds explode in a flurry of gunshots.
Two wars later, plus a decade of peace, and Kira still had not found an answer. He could not find his spirit either. It was probably still in space, searching, searching for his answer.