Childhood, a gundam seed fanfic

Spoiler warning: events covered up to Phase 45 of SEED

Summary: "Take care of him and educate him well, don't let him turn out like that idiot." As he searched his memories, all he could see of his father was an arrogant and selfish man who either ignored him or put him down.

CHILDHOOD
by MapleRose

"You know, my father, he was a selfish and arrogant man who always looked down and criticized others. He died when I was little, but that was all I remember of him."

Murrue looked up from the photo album in mild surprise. "But this," she pointed to a photograph of a very young Mwu riding on a man's shoulders, "Isn't this your father?" she asked softly, tentatively. He nodded.

"So then…" she trailed off. She was puzzled, because in the photograph, both were smiling. She was about to ask him what happened, but felt rather rude for wanting to ask such a personal question.

He saw her confusion and laughed mirthlessly. "I guess he wasn't too bad once upon a time. But people change over time."

Al da Flaga was a rich man.

Not only that, he was also powerful and influential. One should feel lucky to be his son.

And indeed, sometimes Mwu did feel lucky. He had servants and housekeepers to tend to his every need, so that he never had to do any chores. His father's enormous wealth meant that he had everything he asked for, toys, clothes, food, everything.

When the boy was born, Al had been glad that he finally had an heir, so he saw to it that he was kept happy. The boy seemed to have taken quite an interest in airplanes, so he bought him all the model planes that he could find.

But, as Mwu found out later, there were things that his father's wealth and power could not bring. In fact, it was that wealth that made Mwu feel less than lucky.

Mwu's mother was a meek woman. One could call her beautiful, for she had a nice figure and a pretty face, but she wasn't all that attractive due to the lack of confidence in the way that she carried herself. She was feeble and submissive, and when someone talked to her, she'd look at the floor instead of the other person's eyes, as if she was afraid the gaze would burn through her. Some rumours said that Al had a short affair with her, and only married her to avoid scandal. No one could really prove or disprove that, but one thing was for sure, he didn't seem to care for her too much anymore. She was a possession that he had gotten tired and dissatisfied with and thrown aside.

The same could be said of her son. At first, while Al had never been a doting father, he did take an interest in his son, playing with him time to time, and buying him everything he wanted.

But as time went on, his interest in the boy waned. He hardly saw his son anymore. And when he did, it was always with a sort of bored indifference.

When young Mwu had come up to him one day, happily holding up a piece of paper in his face and telling him, "Look Father, look at the plane I drew", he only glanced at the scribbles on the page and replied with a flat "uh-huh", before beckoning the servants to usher the disappointed and dejected child away. But his eyes, the condescending look in them scoffed, "Is that the best you can do?"

He had been reading about Coordinators and their superior abilities, and of the things that they could do by Mwu's age. Compared to them, his child was stupid and incompetent. How could he let someone like that inherit his estate? It was all that woman's fault. Her blood had tainted his superior one. His child needed to be as perfect as he was. He needed a way that his abilities could be perfectly passed onto his child, his heir.

And that was when he caught wind of the Ultimate Coordinator project, and of Dr. Hibiki.

One day, Mwu was playing with his toys in the sitting room. His mother was sitting by the window, knitting. The two did their tasks in silence. Mwu was playing alone. He always played alone. He didn't have any friends his age to play with, because the mansion was far from any other houses, and he was educated by private tutors. He didn't ask his mother, because she was always busy doing her own things. But he didn't care, because she was boring to play with anyways. Occasionally, he'd get some of the servants to play with him, but he found he had more fun by himself. Though sometimes, he really wished that he had a sibling to play with.

He got up from the floor he was sitting on to fetch the paper airplane that had gone astray, when he came upon a picture resting on the mantel. In the photograph was Al da Flaga, with a younger Mwu riding on his shoulder, holding a toy plane. They were both smiling, and it looked like they were having fun. He vaguely remembered that when he was younger, his father would come and play with him. And now, he hardly ever saw him anymore.

Taking the picture off the mantel (with some difficult reaching), he brought it over to his mother and showed it to her.

"Why doesn't father come more often?" he asked his mother.

Without looking up or missing a stitch, she answered in a flat voice, "Because he's extremely busy."

"Oh."

The boy seemed to contemplate this answer for a while, before popping another question.

"Mother, doesn't Father like me anymore?"

His mother's hands stopped abruptly at the boy's question. She paused before looking up. Her son stared at her with big, innocent blue eyes.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because he doesn't play with me when he does come," he stared at the floor, "Like the way he used to."

Her gaze fell to the floor, eyes vaguely sad, and sighed. "I know."

They had only met once in that mansion. The meeting was brief. So brief that as Mwu grew older, he didn't even recall it ever taking place.

At first, Mwu was excited to meet him. Because finally, he'd have a playmate. But as their eyes met, he felt a chill run down his back, and felt very uncomfortable. The other boy smiled, or rather, smirked, in the same condescending manner that Mwu had seen from his father. For some reason, he felt scared. He didn't know what he was scared of, but his instincts told him that this boy was not normal.

"Take care of him and educate him well, don't let him turn out like that idiot."

Mwu was sure that he wasn't supposed to hear that conversation. But he had. As he grew older, he'd forgotten, and didn't care, who that "he" was. What he did remember, what remained etched in his mind, was the fact that his father had referred to him as "that idiot".

I'm not really an idiot, am I?

He didn't think he was. His tutors had told him that he was quite a bright student. They commented on the potential this young boy had in the future. He was a fast learner, and good at understanding concepts. In fact, he was smarter than most Natural kids his age.

So why, why didn't his father see that?

Every time Mwu tried to please him by showing him his accomplishments, Al would always give him a disapproving look before turning away, hands gesturing as if to shoo him away.

Mwu was disappointed and discouraged. Nothing he did could get his father's approval. Pretty soon, he felt that everyone around him criticized him. He could hear them behind his back, whispering how stupid and slow he was compared to the "other boy". Like the overheard words from his father, Mwu didn't remember who the "other boy" was, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was an idiot.

"What does 'in...incon...incompetent' mean?" he once asked his mother, his tongue struggling to form the foreign word. He had heard that word from some of the people in the house.

"It means you are useless and can't do anything right," she answered without looking up, sounding bored.

"Oh." They were referring to him when they used that word, and he felt tears stinging at his eyes as his young mind made the connection.

"Mother," he started, voice trembling slightly, "Do you think I'm useless?"

She was silent. But her eyes revealed the subtle disdain she felt towards the boy. Was it because she blamed him for the distance between her and Mwu's father?

Once, when his father had first stopped seeing him regularly, he had asked his mother whether his father loved her. She had huffed and answered bitterly, a rare tone for her, "As if! He never cared for anyone other than himself."

"Then why did he marry you?" he had asked innocently.

She had snorted in answer, "Not everyone marries for love."

Mwu didn't understand what she meant at the time, but knew she was not happy about the subject, so he never asked again.

She was submissive, but she wasn't stupid. She knew of all the mistresses Al had. But she was either too scared to confront him about it, or she simply didn't care.

Presently, his mother turned her head to the side and finally provided an answer with a fixed smile, "Of course not Mwu, you're a very smart boy."

Even though he was young, Mwu had felt the emptiness of those words. Her tone was cold and detached, and held none of the assurance that those words were supposed to carry. From her eyes, he saw that she too, was ashamed of him. His father had blamed her for his birth, his incompetence, and she in turn, blamed him for her own weaknesses.

From then on, his already distant relationship with his mother crumbled.

From learning the meaning of "incompetent", Mwu had stopped trying. He simply gave up. After all, what use was there, when the best you could do would still not be enough? He stopped pursuing his academics and indulged in his fascination with aircrafts. He had asked for, and received, a fighter plane simulation game. Although Al did not care too much for his son, he did give him material needs. After all, what's a few thousand dollars to him, as long as it kept the boy happy and out of his hair.

With the game, he attracted quite some attention from various people in the mansion, as they watched in awe at the young boy's skill. For the first time in a long time, Mwu felt proud of himself. He felt that finally, he could do something right.

But when he showed his father, he barely glanced at the results and commented in a matter-of-fact tone, "the other boy can do much better", drawing nods of agreement from the others watching.

Instead of feeling dejected like he had in the past when his father had said these kinds of things, Mwu felt angry. He was indignant. Here was one thing that he was good at, one thing that he was passionate about, and when he finally thought he proved himself, the old man still put him down.

He suddenly got the motivation to want to try again, to prove himself. He'd show them one day that he was not useless, that he could, and would, make something of himself. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to achieve that yet, so at the moment, he studied hard and practiced his piloting skills on the simulations, hoping that one day, he would fly a real plane.

"The master and his wife are still inside!"

A tired Mwu stood outside in his pajamas, watching in terrified awe at the blazing building that he once called home.

He had been awakened in the middle of the night by some servants. Still sleepy, he rubbed his eyes and asked what was wrong. They didn't answer him, but dragged the boy out of the room and into the smoky hallway. The next thing he knew, before his mind was fully alert, he was standing outside with the servants.

As the fire roared, he looked around for any sign of his parents. When he couldn't spot them, he asked the housekeeper beside him. She looked down at him with pity and answered that they were still in the building.

The answer slowly sank into Mwu's young mind. His lower lip trembled as he understood what it meant.

"Father! Mother!" he cried as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Even though his relationships with his parents were strained, the fact was that they were still his flesh and blood. He suddenly felt abandoned, scared, and alone as tears flowed from his wide blue eyes.

He stayed with his relatives after the fire. While they didn't scorn him the way the people at his old home had, they weren't exactly interested in the boy either. Mwu didn't mind. In fact, he was kind of relieved about it, because they didn't ask unnecessary questions. It further served his feeling of mild detachment from the world, and added to his sense of distrust, both of which were ideal for the soldier that he was to become.

When he was 18, he enlisted in the military, feeling that he needed to do something with his life. Military life suited him just fine, in fact, he felt quite comfortable being a soldier. He was used to being alone, and here, at least on the surface, his comrades treated each other with respect. Besides, here, he finally had a chance to see and fly a real aircraft. It wasn't long before they discovered his immense talent and potential as a pilot. Mwu had finally proven himself. He worked hard to sharpen his skills, and became one of the few people in the EA to be able to pilot the Mobieus Zero. When he received a medal of recognition along with the nickname the "Hawk of Endymion", he silently yelled an "I told you so" to his long-dead father.

Mwu faintly remembered hearing on the news of the success of the Ultimate Coordinator project, of how a Coordinator child had been successfully created from Dr. Hibiki's artificial womb. At the time, there was a lot of controversy and chaos surrounding this news, but it didn't really concern him. He grew up with Naturals, but he didn't dislike Coordinators, he had no personal grudges against them. So he simply brushed the news aside, not knowing just how closely connected to it he was, and how much it had affected his life. He also could not have predicted that one day, he would meet and befriend that child from the womb, and that they would meet face to face with "that boy" to learn the truth, in the place where it all began.

"Heh, I never knew just how selfish and arrogant the old man was," Mwu chuckled flatly. "But now, now I understand why nothing I did was good enough for him." He then clenched his fist. "How could this have happened!"

Murrue gazed at him with sadness in her eyes. She could see that it pained him to talk about his childhood. She could feel the confusion he had felt growing up as he told his story, and empathized with him. Reaching out, she caressed his brow softly.

"It's not your fault Mwu. From this picture, I imagine that he once was a good man."

He smiled weakly. "I can only hope."

Thinking back, he wanted to believe that once, once upon a time, his father did love his mother, even if for a brief moment. Because then, he could believe that his father once cared for him as well. But as he searched his memories, all he could see of his father was an arrogant and selfish man who either ignored him or put him down, telling him that he was nothing but an idiot. The only proof that Al da Flaga was ever a father to him was that one photograph.

AN: one-shot exploring Mwu's relationship with his father. He's obviously not too fond of him, but in that picture of the two of them, they did look like they were pretty close. So I wondered what happened. I don't see Mwu's mother as a particularly strong woman, and I don't think her relationships with Mwu or his father are that strong either. Some of the themes/ideas sparked out of my Mwurrue one-shot collection "Promise Me" (chap 24: Answers)

The narrative style of Mwu telling Murrue the story, but not really narrating, was inspired by "Biography of the Damned" (great story!).

Please review! I'd love some feedback!