Blood. A single drop trickled from an opening in the skin, and as it hung from the tip of a finger, a sudden hand motion flicked the drop elsewhere. It was then swallowed by the arid desert and dried without another droplet to accompany it.

"Ow!" the man whined as he sucked on the digit to stanch the bleeding. He grimaced as sand granules from his hand became wedged between his teeth.

"It's just a small cut, Vash. Would you quiet down?" Meryl asked, glancing at Milly, who was retrieving a medical kit from one of her saddlebags. "You're making the toma nervous."

Vash shrugged before covering the injured finger with the corner of his brown coat. "Sorry, hon. It just hurts..."

"Here, Mr. Vash." Milly tried to offer the kit while they all swayed in an undignified fashion on their toma.

"Thanks!" Vash placed the medical kit on his lap, which was now jammed between him and Meryl on the saddle they shared. "Uh, maybe we can stop for a second?" He playfully poked Meryl's side.

Meryl scoffed. "Fat chance, we already did since someone had to use the restroom, again. This area isn't safe, Vash." She slapped the toma with the reins, and the beast hastened his steps. Vash was distracted by Meryl's voice and panicked when the bandage he was trying to apply was abruptly snatched by the winds.

Vash tried again and managed to seal the cut with a bandage, then he glanced at the sharp piece of metal on the saddle and made a note to avoid it. He assessed where the nearest town was based on stray tire tracks and the position of the suns as they descended over the horizon.

"You're right, hon. We're getting close. I want you two to reach town before sundown. It's the nearest one's toward the east."

"Nice of you to point toward the right direction before deserting us," Meryl mumbled, past bitterness adding fuel to the fire that singed Vash's heart.

"Aw, c'mon, Meryl. You know it's easy to lose you in a crowd."

"Excuse me?"

Vash fondly circled his arms around Meryl's waist. He inhaled, breathing the remnants of her lavender shampoo.

He was going to miss her when they'd part ways.

Vash was almost lulled to sleep when Meryl ordered the toma to slow. He, once again, reflected on the events that led to him being able to bask in the warmth from a loved one—a person he wouldn't run from anymore. Even after all of these years he still feared including people in his life, but Meryl proved countless times that she could defend herself from the misguided residents of Gunsmoke.

The years Vash had spent with the girls and Knives after subduing him passed slowly, which was such an odd feeling. He had traveled the world for decades, town to town, met unique people only to leave again and again—becoming a wandering spirit—and time was virtually meaningless, as tragic as that was for someone wanting to live with humans.

Vash loved his brother, who had suffered and grown into what Steve had called them: a monster. Although Vash valued the seemingly insignificant acts of kindness humans did for each other, he hadn't appreciated his brother's thoughtful gestures. Then again, that first decade alone with Knives was usually unbearable; Knives was family and they only had each other, but they rarely agreed on anything and argued tirelessly.

It was his mistake to leave Knives, and after separating, his brother remained a monster, a beast that might have needed affection and acceptance to break the spell. Vash then grieved; maybe he should've tried harder or told Rem about the abuse when it began changing Knives the most.

Both of them hadn't told her for their own reasons.

"Vash," Meryl whispered, and Vash noticed that he had been sobbing against her back. "You're crushing me."

"Ah, oops." He pulled away and patted where his tears soaked into her shirt.

"Something wrong, Mr. Vash?" Milly asked with a concerned look.

"Milly, obviously!" Meryl snapped, but she sighed and mumbled an apology. "We're trying to find his psychotic brother, and knowing Vash, he's probably blaming himself in that broom head of his."

Milly shook her head. "If Mr. Knives wanted to, he could've shot Vash and killed Elizabeth and everyone in the ship, but he didn't, which means he still kept his promise, right, Mr. Vash?"

Vash groaned, leaning into Meryl's back again, his forehead against a hard lump of her spine. "He broke the promise about not using telepathy on people needlessly... Well, I did hurt him, which I guess is technically an emergency, but, uh—"

"You're hurting me again," Meryl warned.

"Ahh, sorry!" He forced his hands to clasp together instead of around Meryl. Silence lingered between them before Vash said, "We're almost there. You remember our deal, right?"

"Just because you have a superior intellect doesn't mean we forget things like this easily, Vash."

"You know I don't think that way." Vash pouted, crossing his arms. "Well, sometimes you forget not to be abusive to me," he whined.

"Well, Meryl," Milly began as she commanded the toma to slow down. "Mr. Vash might not be so superior. After all, he always forgets to take out the trash when you ask."

"Gah—so cruel! I usually have a lot on my mind, okay!"

"He just chooses to forget, Milly. He's so lazy."

"This isn't fair! Time out! Time out," he pleaded, raising his hands in mock surrender.

They laughed together, and Vash felt sentimental for the old times when Wolfwood was with them. Once the laugher quieted into faint giggles and eventually died, the silence was powered by the magnitude of the potential dangers in the near future.

The shadows cast by the dunes stretched for meters and pointed to the leveled ground in the distance. The winds threatened to seize the map from Meryl's grasp, and she nearly ripped through where her fingers burrowed into the paper. Vash had insisted on being their reliable map, but Meryl wasn't having any of it and marked the locations where they had visited; they searched through two of Knives' ships before reaching his personal ship in Dimitrihi.

Vash took a swig from his canteen and looked around, only to be greeted with sand. And sand. And more sand. Usually, whenever he traveled, he found ways to occupy himself with his thoughts or whatever memories of Rem he managed to evoke after July. Now, he listened to the conversations between the girls, and Milly began a story from one of the letters she had received about her big brother's daring attempts to rescue a stranded toma in quicksand.

Vash hastily hugged Meryl from behind, causing her to yelp, then jumped from the toma. Once his feet were firmly planted into the sand, his canteen settled over his abdomen. He uncapped it, took another drink, and gave a long sigh of satisfaction as the cold liquid moisturized his chapped lips and parched mouth.

"Told ya we don't need a map," Vash said, striking a hero's pose, hands at his waist. He sadly lamented as Milly joined him in observing the edges of the crater. The rest of the surface had long since been buried in the sand. "You ready?" he asked, placing a light hand on Milly's shoulder.

Milly sniffed and rubbed away her tears. "We're ready to find it, right, Mr. Vash? Maybe we're ready to visit him too!"

"That'd be nice." Vash began walking toward the center of the crater alongside Milly. "That cross was part of his life. When I heard his voice when fighting Knives, he wanted me to use it. As I said, I don't know if it was my imagination or not, but I'd like to think it was him helping me."

"Sometimes I dream about my family members that passed and they talk to me."

Vash scanned the ground before meeting Milly's eyes. "I... I could've done something for him. I didn't think he was badly injured, but I was too focused on my mistakes to see if Wolfwood was okay. I did the same thing after shooting Legato and it nearly got you two killed by the townspeople. He'd—" Vash jerked his head and tears trickled down his face. "Knives wanted this to happen. He…"

A pair of arms encircled his waist, and as Vash buried his head in his hands, Meryl tightened her hold.

Vash realized he had made a mistake when shooting Knives before the new year began. He wanted to fix things and was trying now by searching for Knives. Vash's thoughts weren't sometimes pleasant, but he often found himself reflecting on his life nonetheless.

He couldn't help it. What if he had smashed Knives' head with that rock years ago? What if he had shot his head instead of his thigh? For years Vash saved people to honor the price Rem paid for Knives' sins. Rem couldn't have expected Knives to nearly doom humanity, but she wanted Vash to take care of him.

Forgiveness… Knives was right in a way. Vash had numerous people backstab and betray him-countless times. Still, he forgave many people. He forgave Wolfwood long ago. Milly had said Wolfwood made his own choices, but if it wasn't for Vash trying to convert people to follow his beliefs, Nicholas would've probably lived.

Knives tried too, and Vash had shot him in return. Why did his brother say those things? Was it a test? Did Knives want Vash to give him a reason to choose a side—either to become who he had been or stay as a reforged man? Was it too late to help his brother?

Was it too late to say sorry?

"Vash…" Meryl whispered into the back of his coat.

"Gah, sorry. Just—" He wiped his face and gasped, looking determined after cleaning himself. He then turned to Milly while Meryl's arms remained wrapped around him. "You think you're finally ready to see the cross again after all this time?"

Milly looked as determined as Vash. "Yep! Let's find it and bring it home!"

Vash stepped toward the exact location where he left the cross, and he briefly touched the Long Colts at his sides. He didn't have to worry about finding them. At least the red coat was missing.

"Here ya go, Mr. Vash," Milly said, handing him one of their shovels.

"Thanks," he mouthed, staring at the sand that hid his friend's weapon.

"Two days," Meryl groused to herself.

Vash plunged the shovel into the sand. "Yep."

"... What if your brother—"

Vash began shoveling before he paused and stared at the grains of sand stuck to the tool. "He won't. I shouldn't have hurt him, but he's not like how he was almost a decade ago, and he's even different from two years ago. Besides, I won't let him get his way if…" He added more force while completing his task. "I won't let him hurt anyone anymore if I have to. I…" His hands began trembling but he continued. "I'd have to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone again."

"No one has the right to take the life of another…" Meryl echoed behind him. "Vash, if he threatens everything you care about, then…"

Vash thrust the shovel with his boot and scooped more sand, nearly flinging it at Meryl by accident. "Rem's last words were to take care of Knives. Not 'I love you two' or anything like that. It's like she knew that he needed me or… How can I take care of someone that keeps hurting people?! Why would she—" Vash disciplined himself, then forced a smile only convincing to those who weren't adept in spotting the false grins. "I could've helped him or done something different. We were both so stubborn as kids that even after fifteen years we didn't change! He wasn't right, but neither was I completely—I know that now. I—"

Vash's eyes widened as he began jabbing the ground with the shovel.

"What's wrong?" Milly asked softly.

"It's not here."

"Huh?" Meryl said.

"There was a dust storm a few days ago. Maybe it—" Milly stopped that explanation.

"No. No. It's not here!" Vash began randomly excavating areas where the cross might've been, but only unearthed sand. "Did someone take it? Knives found the guns after so many years, but the cross… It was buried!"

"Do you think he has it?" Meryl asked.

Milly's grip on her shovel tightened. "What would Mr. Knives want with it?"

Vash released a humorless laugh. "If you hurt him, he returns the favor by shooting your arm off. I fired the cross at him and won, so he'll do something to it and hurt me and—" Vash bit his tongue. He couldn't believe that about Knives anymore. He had to cling to hope.

"What now, Mr. Vash?" Milly asked, unsure of what else to say.

"The deal's still on. You two'll wait until two days, and if I don't come back here by then, both of you go back to New Oregon." Vash packed the shovel on the toma's saddle and untied his traveling bag. He turned to Meryl, whose fixed expression dimmed immediately. "Please."

"You really are expecting me to just wait around to see if you'll come back, again!"

"Meryl, you promised. You said you would stay far away enough, and did I disappoint you all those years ago? I came back, didn't I?"

Meryl shook her head, then she smiled again, but her eyes remained worried. "You're so lazy."

"Am not! I've been working with Doc, and I was with Elizabeth, too!"

"Took you long enough to return with Knives."

"Well, look how in the middle of nowhere this place is and he's heavy!" He paused and looked down at the hole he dug. "He really was afraid of people."

"He's changed a lot, hasn't he, Mr. Vash?" Milly asked, almost sounding rhetorical, as if the answer was obvious.

Vash's smile fell. "Maybe he's changed for the worse now. It's my fault." He checked the chambers in his guns and inspected them one last time before slinging his traveling pack over his shoulder. "I gotta confront him again."

"I wish you weren't going in there alone…" Meryl muttered, pressing a fist against her chest, her eyes staring at Vash's boots. "A deal's a deal… I guess."

"Good! Milly might be right; he might not be that kind of person anymore. There haven't been any rumors of towns disappearing nearby, and the Plants from New Oregon said they haven't heard any bad news about him from other Plants."

"If Nicholas was here," Milly began, looking solemn, "he would've helped you,"

"You would've let him, wouldn't you?" Meryl asked with disdain.

Vash glanced where the Cross Punisher should've been. "I don't know. He would've tried to even if I said no, and he probably would've gotten hurt or worse. You two almost did when Legato kidnapped you, and even if Wolfwood did survive, I doubt Legato would've let him live for long after that." He ran a hand through his hair. " Don't follow me."

"We won't," Meryl stated, finally accepting the inevitable.

"Mr. Vash, if you think Mr. Knives can be saved, then follow your heart and do what's right." Milly stuck her bottom lip out and gave one sharp nod. "That's what my big sister used to say."

Vash stared at his clothed chest where his gate was embedded in his skin, caging his heart even if it were freed. It ached as he reflected on what he had done, the blood trickling down Knives' arm, soaking the shirt Meryl gave him, and the look of disbelief, denial, and then rage that contorted Knives' face. His brother, once a young boy, innocent and precocious, evolved into a ruthless stranger. Would Vash meet the face of a stranger again?

"Yeah, I've been following it, and sometimes it leads me in the wrong direction." He stared into the distance toward the ship iles away. "It sometimes leads me to the right one."

Vash smiled when a small, tenacious hand demanded his own to hold onto it, and he did. Meryl squeezed his fingers, and Vash returned the gesture. Before he could separate from her, she managed to reach his lips, standing on her toes. He met her by leaning forward and returned the kiss, mouth slightly parted. He heard Milly giggle nearby, but she seemed far away while he was absorbed in the embrace. He couldn't resist his own chuckles when they parted for air. He then drew her into a hug, feeling guilty for having to leave.

Vash waved at the girls and the toma before turning toward the vast desert before him. All he had to do was concentrate on his steps, one, two, three, four… He then drank from his canteen, savoring the sensations. He'd miss his life if he'd lose to Knives, but something within him said not to worry. Knives had never wanted him dead, even after July. Vash had always felt conflicted about his motivations for finding his brother. His resolve to act eventually wavered after reflecting on the desires he had often denied for decades.

Kill Knives. Would he be able to live with the consequences? Could Knives? Did they really have the ability to kill the other and cope with it for the rest of their seemingly immortal lives?

No. Vash wouldn't be able to live with himself. Even before the Great Fall, he reflected once again on how he treated Knives and wished he had done better—wished they both did. Knives didn't make sense to him, but now Vash understood his logic because it wasn't an easy choice to save the spider and butterfly. Knives had acted while Vash avoided making the hard choices. What was another solution? Was there any?

Despite the occasional dark thought, the overall trip to the ship was pleasant. He distracted himself by focusing on his surroundings rather than "what ifs" related to his brother. Even the sweat accumulating over his brows, trickling down his temple, following the line of his jaw to his chin was a welcoming distraction. He thought about retrieving his music player and earpieces but decided against it.

Knives had explained the ships' locations by sending detailed images through telepathy; he wanted Vash to know in case of an emergency. There were a total of six ships across Gunsmoke Knives had claimed, and they were programmed to combat against potential threats, such as scavengers and humans in general. Since the SEEDS ship models were all similar, Knives had long ago altered their interiors to become less predictable compared to the majority of the surviving vessels. The Pequod—the ship Knives favored and occasionally visited by himself throughout the years—was his main home. Vash always wondered why his brother allowed them to enter the other ships but not that one. Legato and a few others knew the existence of the Pequod, and Knives had spent decades recovering in there after July, but other than that, Vash knew nothing of what was in store.

The suns were setting by the time Vash located the rock formation surrounded by a sea of sand; an isolated island was perfect for someone like his brother. Vash noticed stray toma and tire tracks scattered throughout the area, and when he approached the edge of the rock outcrop, he noticed visitors had once made camp within it and outside. He was left to wonder how the remnants of a SEEDs ship managed to snuggle cozily within the rock formation.

Vash continued to circle around the area until he located a particular section of the wall. The tracks in front of the entrance were fresh, but the sand was gradually erasing their existence. He shifted the traveling bag over his shoulder as he arched forward to examine a particular area on the rocky wall. He trailed his fingers until he pressed on certain protruding rocks. Towering doors split open the entrance to the path that led to the ship.

No wonder his brother worsened after enduring decades of isolation in a place like this.

Vash shifted the strap of the traveling bag, feeling uneasy as he proceeded to wander through the narrow entrance within the rock formations that towered above him. Eventually, the path widened, and soon he discovered that he had been given directions to one of the many entrances to the bridge that reached the ship.

An opening between the tip of the Pequod and the rock formation allowed limited light to enter from above. The fog overhead and below the bridge was dense and blanketed the unknown and the known around Vash. The silence was eerie, and the occasional footstep or screech of birds that resided in the cave didn't sit well in his stomach. Although he had wandered for the majority of his life, he had never been more uncomfortable anywhere else. Sure, he had experienced unnerving situations, but no other locations had ever bothered him as much as his current one did.

When the ships entered the planet's atmosphere, many of their outer shells disintegrated from the heat, leaving the inner walls of the vessels behind. Dozens of long, protruding hallways stuck out from the Pequod at all possible angles, and he recognized that the ship itself resembled a heart and the hallways that led to nowhere were the severed veins of a once beating ship.

Knives must have turned off the security features, because if he hadn't, Vash would've fallen from the bridge. Eventually, he reached one of many entrances and ascended the staircase, entered a few long codes to open doors, and continued on.

He hoped it was smooth sailing from here.

The smells of the metallic walls and ancient oils surfaced nostalgic memories of when he and Knives had enjoyed living in blissful ignorance, strolling through the hallways as children, but now everything seemed needlessly complex and twisted due to Knives' modifications. If he hadn't once sent Vash a detailed map of this place, he would've lost himself, swallowed by the thick darkness, suffocating.

Vash sauntered across a hall toward his brother; Knives had, at last, revealed his position. Once Vash bypassed the unfamiliar hallways, he eventually found himself in a particular area that reminded him of home, playing with Rem, listening to her words, believing in her, loving her. While he reminisced on fond memories, did Knives cling to the ones that led him to cause the Fall? Was that why he lived in a ship—to remember and never forget? Could Knives still feel the punches tenderizing his skin, the merciless kicks that left swelling bruises, and heard the echoes of dehumanizing words that reminded him of how different he was—how different they were?

Knives was close now. Vash was in front of the door to the ship's recreation room. He stared at the keypad for a moment while debating if he should reach out to his brother. The door would prevent Vash from having to confront his mistakes and potentially protect him from Knives' assault. Then again, Vash was tired of voiding things in life he should've confronted long ago.

Vash pressed a button on the keypad and a gust of wind rushed around him, making him feel exposed. The door slid open instantly, and he debated on clicking the button again to close it. He tightened his hand into a fist, forced it to hang stiffly at his side, and, finally, purposely strode through the door.

He abruptly halted, overlooking the sudden jolt of his body from the wasted momentum in his steps. He was blinded, not by the artificial sun beaming down on everything, but by the beauty of the room. Droplets of water clung to the blades of grass, resembling twinkling stars beneath him, and when he took another step, his boots began squeaking. Fluttering shadows from leaves danced a few meters away, and clinging to the thin arms of a single tree were ripe red apples. Beyond the tree was a cliff that towered over the landscape below and to the left, it sloped down to allow easy access to the field.

Vash recognized his brother's broad shoulders protruding from the other side of the tree, his pale hair swaying steadily alongside the leaves above him. He was standing, arms crossed, and when he slightly shifted his body, Vash heard the familiar pulling noises of the red SEEDs uniform.

He pondered on sending Knives a telepathic message since he usually communicated with Vash whenever he wanted to talk about something personal, but there wasn't a need to. And besides, Vash wanted Knives to hear what he had to say aloud.

"Knives," he spoke almost inaudibly that if he had talked during the slight gust of wind, the shaking leaves would've discoursed over him.

The silence stretched on. Vash had the words he planned to say memorized, but now that he was here, he faltered.

"Remember…" He began, watching the parts of Knives he could observe from behind the tree. There was no physical indication that his brother took regard to his presence. "Remember when I said not to give me a reason to shoot you? You didn't. What I did was wrong." Vash carefully watched Knives' head, but its position didn't change. "The things you said… You know Meryl and Milly mean a lot to me, and Rem…"

Vash kept his eyes on Knives, but he focused on what his brother had said weeks ago.

You favored Rem even though she abandoned us for them! It's always them!

"You took Rem from me. Back then I did choose her, because if one good person could sacrifice herself for others to survive, then there must be people like her worth fighting for." Vash took careful steps toward Knives, and if he didn't have to keep his guard up, he would've savored the crunching of the grass with each step. "I did pick the people even if I didn't intend to choose sides, I still did.

"Now, things are different. We both made mistakes, but what you did… It's hard to forgive you, but maybe I should've appreciated that you've been trying. I shouldn't have shot you. You shouldn't have said that you'd kill them because I believe that we can be better." Vash perked up a bit, with a smile that flashed teeth and shined brighter than the lighting in the room. "Now, c'mon, why don't we get together and have a good time? Maybe with beer, aaahahaha!" He jerked his head back and his smile broadened as he laughed. He then took a confident step and saw the side of Knives' face.

As Vash approached, he paused and saw that Knives was staring at something. Vash's chuckles died down, his steps became hesitant, as his brother's white-gloved hand came into view. Vash's vision followed the creature climbing on Knives' motionless, arched fingers.

It was a spider.

Vash could hear the slight pitch of Knives' inhales. He was so close, but why did he feel so far away? Vash came up beside him and saw that Knives looked exhausted, with darkened skin around his eyes and thin wrinkles. He set his hand on Knives' shoulder; his body didn't flinch or stiffen at the contact.

The silence was concerning, but he'd wait until Knives was ready to acknowledge him.

Eventually, Knives nonchalantly glanced over his shoulder, eyes seemingly vacant of all emotion—all except one. Vash was paralyzed by the intense hatred he recognized within them.

The bark cracked, splinters flew and hid within the grass. Apples fell and thumped when they landed. The wind died abruptly. The surface of the trunk parted, creating a gaping gash where a blade had penetrated the tree. Red liquid trickled between the crevasses of the bark. Bones began splitting, threatening to fracture under the strain. Such a precise strike rendered Vash's right arm useless. The left, aiming the black gun at Knives' head, trembled.

A fixed hunting knife sliced into Vash's right shoulder, fracturing the bones. Vash clenched his teeth as Knives began turning the knife by the handle, widening the gash that sheathed the blade. Knives then palmed the pommel while the other hand tightly gripped onto the handle. Inches separated the twins' noses as they stared at each other. One was mortified and torn, while the other looked deadpan, cold eyes detached from the reality before him.

Knives, while holding the blade in place, managed to unholster Vash's silver gun from his side. Unable to use his other arm, Vash couldn't prevent his brother from disarming him. He felt his own finger squeeze the trigger of the black gun while it was aimed at Knives. Vash squealed in pain at the thought of the consequences of what he was about to do.

"Please don't do this…" Vash hissed through gritted teeth, then his voice grew stronger. "No. I'm the one you're mad at. Take it out on me."

Vash cracked open his eyes and they widened at the sight of Knives' impassive face. It was nothing like the impudent, collected demeanor his brother had during July and their confrontation years ago; nothing signified that Knives felt superior or was mockingly scrutinizing him. Nothing. Did Knives want this? Did he want Vash to shoot him again?

Knives had wanted Vash to trust him, but how could he trust Knives now? This was—

Vash glanced at the gun in his hand while Knives raised the silver one to Vash's temple, eyes never averting from Vash's anguished ones.

Trust. His body and mind rejected the idea, but Milly did say he should try to follow his heart.

Vash closed his eyes again. He tipped his head back against the tree, dropping the gun. He gradually lowered his hand with the submachine gun. He knew by surrendering he was risking his life, but Knives had never wanted him to die—to suffer, but never to die.

He had to show Knives that he wouldn't shoot.

It seemed he had to prove himself, too.

Before Vash could meet Knives' eyes, the knife slid out of his shoulder, drawn from his skin. Knives' fisted Vash's shirt and flung him to the side before veering away, leaving Vash to watch his retreating back and the stiff arm holding the guns in one hand and bloodied knife in the other.

"Knives!" Vash shouted as he gracelessly rose to his feet, clenching his red shoulder.

Vash had been shot countless times, but he had never tasted his own medicine quite like this. Knives holstered the black gun and shot Vash's thigh with the silver weapon. The skin tingled and throbbed, and Vash slightly flinched at the pain. When he took a step and shifted his weight onto the injured leg, he lost control and had to brace himself against the tree. It was a perfect shot that made it impossible to distribute his weight to keep his balance. Knives continued to trudge away and closed the door to the recreation room.

Knives had taught Vash about their extraordinary regenerative talent Knives had learned himself after they parted, but Vash had rarely ever utilized the ability for the majority of his life. Unfortunately, with only one gate, it still took a while for Vash to heal wounds. Even if he and Knives could transfer energy from their gates to heal each other, like when Vash was shot last Christmas, bones were a trickier injury to mend for someone as unskilled as he.

The prosthetic had always come in handy whenever his body was fatigued or damaged since it didn't tire. Using a few branches, pieces of the coat Vash tore into wide strips, he managed to tuck his arm into a makeshift cast after tightening a few cloths to stop the bleeding. He tried to fix his thigh, but Knives had shot him from a distance that lodged the bullet in it, fracturing a few bones. Using a long branch as a cane after making another cast for his leg, he managed to reach the door, feeling like one of those war soldiers from Earth he'd seen pictures of as a kid.

Vash assumed the door was locked, but he wanted to make sure. It was. What about the others? There should've been a few other doors, but each one he investigated was locked. He was trapped in one of the most pleasant places he has ever visited.

Vash could still escape… Why did Knives imprison him? If Knives really planned to use their Long Colts, everyone was in danger. But he could've caused as much destruction on his own.

Clearly, Knives was going through something.

Vash had made a deal with the girls, and if he didn't return in two days, they'd leave, thinking something happened to him. He didn't want to worry them, but if he left now, he might have made things worse.

He'd wait for Knives.

The scenery really resembled some of the old mythologies about the garden of Eden, and Knives' small garden back in New Oregon paled in comparison. The crops in the recreation room were vast and varied, unlike Knives' other ships Vash had visited, which were mostly empty fields of grass with an occasional tree. Here, this was definitely Knives' home. Vash occupied a lot of his time eating pomegranate seeds under the apple tree; it was a lot of work for one arm, but it was his prosthetic.

Occasionally he'd talk with the Plants on the ship and discuss the enigma that was his brother. Knives had killed so many of their kind, and he hadn't always valued the conditions of most Plants, yet he made sure the ones on his ships lived more comfortably than most others. They loved him for it, forgave him, and trusted him. Vash felt a pang of remorse.

Even his sisters had forgiven Knives years ago.

Was it unreasonable for him not to? Meryl would probably smack him for thinking that, but he wasn't entirely innocent either.

Knives killed so many people—millions. Rem... He killed those that Vash cherished, abused him, but Knives hadn't always been a heartless killer either.

He waited for Knives, and when two days passed, he occupied himself with his morbid thoughts or took pleasant walks around the room. He roamed through one of Knives' gardens and was mindful not to soak his socks in the small lake or the running river that stretched across the terrain. He was still amazed that fish swam here, even after all of these years.

"'The will to survive', huh, Rem?" Vash whispered to himself as he stood beside the lake.

Vash craned his head toward one of the entrances to his right. Moments later, Vash realized only the door separated him from his brother. It was only for a brief moment, but Vash now knew Knives was hesitant about confronting him too.

The door slid open, and blocking the exit was Knives in his SEEDs jumpsuit. Vash analyzed his brother warily, eyes falling and rising as he noticed the brief unconscious mannerisms Knives' body displayed, betraying him; for Knives, what he didn't allow to be shown was just as telling. The light wrinkles between his usual smooth brows, more pronounced ones around his eyes, and the faintest spark of fire over his sky-blue eyes, like a neglected oil spill, were all obvious signs.

Vash steadied himself to sit beside the water, set his makeshift cane aside, and scooped some stones and sticks to precisely aim at vacant waters of the river. He threw pebbles to direct fish across the small lake and watched them swim. A shadow was cast from Vash's right, and he tossed his last pebble.

Knives loomed over him. Vash raised his head and greeted him with a sheepish smile.

"You're still mad at me, huh?"

Silence. Vash squinted as he straightened his back the best he could with a wounded shoulder. As he was about to grasp another stone, he jolted, grabbing his head with trembling hands.

He had never felt so much hatred before. Was this what Knives experienced when Vash had shot and abandoned him over a century ago?

The pain began subsiding. The intensity of the emotion left Vash gasping for air, and it would've burned him if Knives hadn't suppressed the emotion again. He looked at Knives despite the light blinding him and grinned again.

That did it.

Vash watched the shoulders of his brother's silhouette slump forward. Crossing his arms, Knives continued to glare down, irked by the broadening smile Vash presented. Knives' clenched fist braced against his sides stiffly, and Vash was reminded of the times Meryl once prepared to throttle him.

"What do you want, Vash?" Knives' voice sounded off. It was an inhospitable voice from a forbidding person, but Vash heard weariness as well.

Vash rubbed the back of his neck. "To say I'm sorry." He dropped his arm at the sight of Knives' eye twitch and the sharp intake of breath. "No! I mean it! What could I do to prove it?" Vash tried to stand, one leg firmly positioned to support his weight while his prosthetic arm pushed into the ground in an effort to balance himself.

"How to prove it," Knives began with a forced ingratiating smile. "You can join me in exterminating the vermin, freeing our sisters, and creating Eden."

Vash's shoulder slumped as he regarded the heavy sarcasm dripping from Knives' voice, but he instantly perked up, awkwardly chuckling.

"What would you do?" Knives asked with a flat voice, without a smile and eyes half-closed.

"Er… prove myself, I guess." Vash shrugged. "I want to forgive you, and, yeah, maybe you did earn it. It's just a lot, okay. I need time; I need a lot of it."

"Then prove it," Knives challenged. "I've kept my promise for years. It's only fair to keep one yourself."

"You controlled those people… You used telepathy…"

The creases between Knives' brows deepened. "You shot me!"

"I know…"

"You're a superior being. Your words should have more merit than a human's." Vash attempted to retort, but the flash of anger he witnessed made him reconsider. Knives lowered his crossed arms to dangle at his sides. "Give me your word. You'll never harm me again."

Vash stammered then contemplated making such a promise. Knives wouldn't kill people (even if he easily could), and he had the weapons that could activate the Angel Arms. Knives could hurt people-severely. What if one day he snapped? Well, then Vash would have to break his promise too.

Vash, take care of Knives!

He would. He'd try again.

Vash met Knives' eyes, and if he were anyone else, he would've had to look away, but he was used to Knives' icy glares. He nodded, and when Knives narrowed his eyes, Vash beamed. "I promise not to hurt you again as long as you keep yours. We both will, won't we?"

Knives blinked, face unreadable. "You won't shoot me again."

"What?" Vash whined.

"It's only fair since I've promised to restrict myself from using telepathy all the time; it's for the comfort of your precious humans after all."

Vash rolled his eyes. "Okay, but if you—"

"As long as I remain a Plant, my words will never lose their value."

"Okay, okay oh superior one." Vash reached his brother and clapped him on the back. "When we get back—"

"When you do."

Vash paused. "You're not coming back?"

"No."

"B-But why?"

Knives had been making direct eye contact with Vash, but when he asked, Knives dropped his eyes and turned away. "I returned to my ship because I wanted to manage my anger… There's only so much I can do to discipline myself to control it in New Oregon." He glanced at Vash's wounds. 'I'm sorry.'

Vash chuckled and said softly, "Me too. I guess I interrupted your…"

Knives rolled his eyes. "I was trying to enjoy my afternoon with meditation until I felt you nearby. I spent weeks attempting to expunge the anger I felt knowing I could do something… drastic."

Vash knew that too well. He suppressed the urge to touch his prosthetic arm.

"Oh, I know what that's like!" Vash shouted, distracting Knives as he stared at Vash's prosthetic. "I've done something drastic, too! I once ran out of bullets and instead of buying some, I couldn't resist spending everything on a few dozen donuts for me and the local kids! Then I tried to stop a heist with the donuts… Do you know how hard that was?!"

Knives scoffed, but Vash managed to catch the briefest of grins. Knives turned away and gestured for Vash to follow. He did.

Eventually, they reached a place where Vash would spend his time sleeping. The infirmary held supplies and tools Vash hadn't seen since before the Great Fall, and while Knives prepared for the surgery, Vash reassured him that he could handle Knives removing the bullet from his thigh without anesthesia. Knives argued otherwise. He'd prefer Vash asleep to avoid triggering an irrational, emotional outburst while digging for a bullet or mending appendages. Vash obliged, feeling the drugs take effect, and he knew Knives was aware that drugs didn't last for long for either of them.

Vash awakened twenty minutes later, and when he examined the areas Knives healed, he was amazed by the precision and effort that went into his care in a short amount of time. After Knives had disinfected the wounds and removed the bullet—a task he was probably familiar with from being shot in the thigh himself—he cleaned the mess. A single drop of sweat that trickled down his forehead and disappeared in his eyebrow was the only physical evidence of his efforts.

Vash jumped off the table, rotated his shoulder, and felt the new muscles and skin stretch and slacken. He did the same with his thigh and pleasantly exhaled.

"Thanks!" Vash paused, then faced Knives. "You're gonna stay?"

Knives nodded once, slowly, as if his mind were occupied with something else.

"Do you know for how long? Will you ever come back?"

Knives shrugged. "Probably."

"I…" Vash sighed. "I can stay for a while if you don't wanna be alone."

Knives quirked a brow. "I left to be alone, Vash. Honestly, your presence will only irritate me, and I'd rather not destroy my ship."

Vash really didn't know what to do. For one, Knives had worsened when Vash left him the first time over a century ago, and Knives had secluded himself in places like the Plant ship and the Pequod. But if he didn't leave, Knives might snap at him before he could manage his anger.

If Knives could understand that he needed time, then Vash would have to respect his wishes. However…

"Knives," Vash began, staring at Knives intently, "what will you do with the guns? Can you give them back?"

His brother snarled, then breathed, deep enough for the echo to be heard. "They're mine. I designed them, you abandoned them, and now they're with me."

"What… What will you do with them?"

"As if you'd let me use them without whining about it." Knives neared the entrance to the room. He glanced over his shoulder with a doubtful smile. "I suppose you'll have to trust me. Unless you don't and never will."

Vash's face contorted with shame, but once he gathered his thoughts, he nodded in acceptance.

They both had promises to keep.

"Alright, I guess I'll see you around." Not knowing what else to do, Vash fastened his traveling bag over his shoulder and followed Knives.

"Farewell, dear brother." Knives parted from Vash when they reached a corridor that led to one of the Pequod's exits.

"Wait, Knives!" Vash suddenly yelled, which caused Knives to halt. "Could you contact Doc to tell Meryl and Milly? Ya know, send them a message to one of the ship's computers? I won't be coming home for a little while; I wanna visit a few people before going back."

"With how I departed, I doubt they'd believe anything I'd write to them."

Vash tapped his chin in thought. "You're right. Hm… Oh! For Meryl, say that I can't wait to come home and look through a donut's hole. She'll know that it's me for sure."

Knives continued to face away from Vash. "Fine."

Vash watched his brother's back until Knives turned a corner and disappeared, the echo from his footsteps gradually dissipating. Vash really didn't want to leave Knives in this ship by himself, and when he contacted his sisters, he urged them to double their efforts in keeping him company.

The walk on the bridge was a little more bearable, but there was still a lingering emptiness within Vash. He wouldn't bring his brother home, but at least he knew Knives wouldn't hurt anyone. With that in mind, despite his mind opposing to the thought, he'd part from Knives until he was ready to come home.

Vash made his way through the narrow path, studying the rugged terrain for a final time. When his boots stepped on sand, he took in his surroundings, savoring the natural light compared to the ones within Knives' ship.

He inhaled, raising his arms in the air to mimic his spiked hair, threw his head back, and as he began exhaling—

"Nyaaa!"

Vash almost gagged on his saliva at the interruption.

"Nyaaaaa!"

He slowly turned his head beside the entrance behind him, and in his peripheral vision, he spotted a black mass perched on some stones. He widened his eyes. He had seen this one before. It couldn't be the same one, could it?

Knives' black cat.

"Hey there, little… guy? Girl." Vash knelt down and offered a hand for her to sniff.

She had to be a different cat. Right? They were too far from New Oregon.

Then, Vash had an idea.

It took some of Vash's salmon spread he had packed to lure the cat inside the ship. He enticed the cat to follow with the occasional dropped piece of salmon, and when they reached the grand doors where he felt his brother on the other side, Vash palmed it open and scooped the calm cat into his arms.

Unfortunately, Vash didn't realize the room he was about to enter was designed to confine noises from within.

Instantly, music washed over them, startling the cat. Vash hadn't listened to music like this in over a century, and for a moment he was jealous of his brother for having access to such a relic that produced the sounds. The whole room was twice the size of the recreation room with pipes lining the walls and towering over him. The pipes aligned themselves to resemble small castles, and Vash knew there were other hidden chambers within for dozens of other pipes out of sight. The room itself lacked furniture, except for the whole instrument and the cushioned bench at the far side of the room. Vash had only seen pictures and videos of what a pipe organ looked like and had never witnessed anyone play one in person.

The tempo was perfect, thunderous yet calm, like an approaching thunderstorm, as Knives' fingers gracefully flowed from one key to the next. Four long rows of manuals accompanied the rows of stop knobs on each side. Not only did the sounds of the organ send chills throughout Vash, Knives fully utilized the resonance with each pause; every action he made was purposeful and passionate, and the vibrations would've hypnotized anyone into a trance. The organ itself was an advanced model, capable of self-maintenance; it looked to be meticulously crafted from wood, and it was a replica of what traditional churches had on Earth.

Knives executed the piece as it should've been played—without ego, without an urge to prove himself, with passion and care.

Vash realized that Knives had said a lot about himself without having to say a single word.

The cat quieted in Vash's arms as he approached his brother. Knives wasn't finished, but instead of abruptly halting, he pressed down on the last keys before allowing the echo to pass, concluding his performance. He opened his eyes, hands resting on his lap, and regarded Vash's presence before glancing down at the disturbed cat.

Vash smirked when Knives lifted his brows in recognition. He then narrowed his eyes, seemingly annoyed.

"I guess she followed me!" Vash encircled his hands around the cat's underarms and presented her to Knives as if she were a prize from a carnival. He then set her down on the floor.

"Nya…" The cat approached Knives' legs.

"See, isn't she cute?" Vash cooed, hands clasped together over his chest, head cocked to the side as he watched the cat rub her head against Knives' leg.

Knives stared at the cat, and as she arched forward to jump onto the manuals, he gently placed her on his lap. Her wide green eyes watched him adjust a few switches and followed his fingers as he began performing a simple melody. Her eyes darkened and she twitched her head as if Knives' hands were a dancing birds.

"I had no idea you had this stuff," Vash spoke during a moment when the noise lingered and keys were left untouched.

Knives looked at him before returning his attention to his fingers and the cat. Vash gawked in awe at the faint smile Knives tried to hide when the cat stretched for a key. He pressed the final ones before straightening his posture.

"This ship holds humanity's history; it's the only one of its kind that survived. The crashed ship in New Oregon cannot compare to the data stored here. Not only do I have humanity's records, but I also safeguard vast encyclopedias of information dating from their earliest years on Earth. I uncovered a few files related to Plants, how they operate, and the experiments humans conducted to understand them. It took years to decrypt some of them." He began stroking the cat, and even though he didn't express it, Vash could see the glee in his eyes when the cat began purring. "Plants can achieve the impossible and produce anything if someone can comprehend how to program them to do so. For instance, a gravitational Plant keeps this ship in place, humans use certain ones for the steamers, they can meld—"

"Er… what?" Why was Knives suddenly talking about this?

"Meld. In the earlier years when humans began housing them all together in a dome, they realized the Plants could meld together—they can conjoin and form a network of one consciousness. Humans feared they would overpower or alter their genetics to free themselves, so they began separating and imprisoning Plants in bulbs."

Vash didn't know any of that. He and Knives had read about how a Plant worked when they were children, but Rem and the crew never revealed how Plants were created or their history. Why…?

"The crew never told or showed us this… Could we meld with them? Is that why they never told us?"

Knives shook his head. "If we could, I would've melded with them long ago. I'm unsure why, but I have my theories. We're unable to activate our Angel Arms without the weapons, so our powers are somewhat limited. Perhaps there's something else within the files I haven't been able to acces yet. Maybe we're still young for our new species and haven't matured. I have always questioned why we were born, but that doesn't matter compared to what I can achieve as a superior being."

Vash uncomfortably fidgeted with the strap of his traveling bag. He couldn't imagine what Knives would accomplish if he could meld with their sisters. Now, Vash wondered if Knives would care about their promises if he had such power.

"Why mention this now after all this time?"

Knives stared ahead, pondering on something before he shrugged. "It wouldn't matter to you now, but I've been thinking about what we could do."

Vash didn't like the implication in Knives' words. "Would it be a good or bad thing?"

"Both."

As Vash prepared to inquire about Knives' motives, he stood abruptly, forcing the cat to jump down.

"You should leave. Now." Knives strode past him and the cat cried behind him.

Vash was anxious about what Knives was planning, but he'd have to wait and find out.

Vash looked back at the rock formation in the distance sometime later. Even though he was leaving Knives, it wasn't anything like when he first fled from his brother. Vash smiled in the direction of the Pequod, then continued his journey. As he was fishing for his earbuds, a thought crossed his mind. He debated asking, but he had to know while he could still connect to Knives.

A wave of fury nearly sent Vash toppling over a dune. ' Knives?'

'What?' Knives spat. 'I'm going to send the message.'

'Thanks, but that's not what…' He ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixated on staring at the winds picking up sand. 'Do you know what happened to Wolfwood's cross?'

'You shot me with it and abandoned it.'

Vash rolled his eyes. 'I mean recently. Was it there when you found the Long Colts?'

'I didn't care to look for it then.'

'What about when you left? Did you go back to where we fought?'

'Of course, Vash. Why don't you search around my ship and find it? I'm sure your pet will be content with you spending more time here than necessary!'

'Geesh, okay, okay! See you around!"

Whenever Knives was ready to explain himself, Vash had to take care of some business beforethen. He glanced around to determine the direction toward December City and began to wander across the planet again after so many years.

It took less time than ever to travel since Vash had money saved to purchase tickets for buses and sand steamers. When he reached the city, he entered to restock on supplies before leaving on foot.

Paradise was a small town iles outside of December. Years ago when corruption ran rampant within the city, some of its citizens separated from it and created their own village. It thrived off the caravan that accompanied the sand steamers whenever they visited December. Unfortunately, the people in power within December resented those that parted and forced the villagers to pay a ridiculous tax, which left many having to leave the town or struggle.

Wolfwood's orphanage and church were not spared.

As suns began rising over the horizon, Vash stood in front of the worn church connected to the orphanage behind it. It was constructed of cracked brick and mortar and seemed abandoned, but when Vash concentrated, he could hear people inside.

Vash might've been early, but at least the kids wouldn't have cared about being interrupted—hopefully.

Vash wasn't sure where to enter the building or whether to knock on the church door. He went around to the back and approached a door and knocked. The young voices he had overheard turned to cautious whispers. Vash waited. Waited…

A door clicked before someone dubiously opened it. A narrow gap revealed a portion of a figure behind the door.

"What do you want?!"

Vash rubbed the back of his head, flashing teeth in a joyous grin to ease the woman's concerns. "Uh, Milly Thompson sent letters and… I'm Vash. Are you Melanie by any chance?"

The woman's eyes widened as she wrenched open the door to reveal more of her round figure. "Vash the Stampede?! Really?!" She stepped outside, and Vash noticed the children behind her scattered. "Wolfwood always mentioned that he was dealing with 'a real trouble maker' in a few of his letters."

Vash laughed nervously. "Gee, I'm not that much of a hassle... anymore… Least Meryl says so."

"Oh, yes, Miss Thompson mentioned her, too. Come in, come!"

Vash moved into the first room and saw a few children run through doors. He remained near Melanie as she locked the front door.

"Children, this is Vash… Vash… Do you still go by that name? There've been rumors of the Humanoid Typhoon being a free man."

Vash shook his head. "You can call me Vash Stryfe." Some of the kids stared at him in awe, and others seemed to be on their guard.

"Ah, that's good! Who'd believe me that the world's once most wanted man often donates to my orphanage." Her smile dropped, and she seemed solemn. "His orphanage…"

"I'm sorry we didn't visit sooner." I'm not going to avoid facing my mistakes anymore. Vash gave a weary smile. "Yeah. I'm just glad he's back home."

"If you hadn't sent those cuff links with that first letter and donation, that wouldn't have been possible. That bastard always wore them ever since I made the damn things."

"Uh, I brought the kids some goodies!" Vash announced, and when he glanced up, he saw some children peer from the sides of several opened doors. "I hope you don't mind the kids having these. I don't wanna spoil anything you've made."

"Nah, I woke up minutes ago."

The kids squealed, their eyes were widening and reflective. Vash blinked, frozen by the predatory stares the kids had while watching him open the bags. Then, he braced himself when he presented some donuts and toys, and the children charged after him. He screamed a piercing shriek that even Wolfwood himself might have heard from the afterlife. Some children seized the goodies while others tackled Vash to the ground. He squealed and gagged when a little boy tightened his arms around his neck, choking him.

"Okay, settle down now!" Melanie ordered, and while some of the children listened, like the one squeezing Vash, some of the older ones defied her. "Okay, I'm counting! Three. Two."

The children paused, then calmed down and stood still. The ones who grabbed the donuts also placed the bags on the floor.

Vash coughed and sat up on his elbows. "You sure taught them well."

"Gotta, Mr. Stryfe. The kids don't get that many valuable visitors. In fact, ever since receiving the donations, we got more people visiting the church for handouts—probably people who don't need 'em, but who am I to judge? Not me, sir. Nope." She turned toward the children. "Now, you'll share the gifts from this nice man, now won't you?"

"Yes Miss Melanie," many said in unison.

"Hmm, now go on and have some fun, but be respectful."

As the kids screeched and shouted for their share in the other rooms, Vash crossed his legs on the floor to catch his breath.

"I'd offer you a seat, but I think I'll wait until you're done talking with him."

Vash averted his gaze from staring where the children disappeared through. "Huh? How'd you know?"

"Of course you'd visit him! Why wouldn't I know?! I make the children visit him every day."

Vash smiled as he searched through his traveling bag and pulled out a bottle of cheap whiskey and two glasses.

"Would you like to stay for the day?"

Vash pondered on the generous offer. "I'm a bit tired, but I don't wanna bother you..."

"Dear, I have twenty-five orphans—twenty-six if you're about as childish as Wolfwood described."

"Gah—he really talked about me like that?" He mocked hurt, quivering his lower lip.

"He complained about a lotta things. To think the boy complained more about life to me than the Lord, probably." She seemed lost in thought, and Vash didn't dare to interrupt her. "He was always like that, you know. He was Father Wolfwood, but he truly was a father to his kids—children that waited for him to return. Some disappeared while others left to start their own lives. Mason, Alex, Livio, Bullet...They loved him a lot, you know?" She shrugged. "What can we do besides move on and learn from mistakes and the consequences of our choices?"

Vash stared at the bottle in his hand. Wolfwood loved the cheapest whiskey available, but he'd always go for the better stuff if he could. Vash could've done something to help him. He could've done a lot of things in his life differently, and although Meryl, and even Knives at times, told him that he shouldn't blame himself for other people's choices, he couldn't help it. Rem sacrificed herself so people like Wolfwood would thrive to create a world where people could learn from their mistakes-with no stealing or killing.

Vash left the orphanage to circle around the building. He took a few turns to reach the corner wedged between the two buildings and gawked at the grave a few feet away. The stone itself wasn't visible due to the plethora of gifts; cards, crudely drawn pictures, and even small trinkets were all gathered and still remained even after a windy day due to the postponing of the buildings. Vash read a few of the cards, and although most of the children were too young to have ever met Wolfwood, their kind words were still heart-wrenching. Vash moved some of the gifts and found the name Nicholas D. Wolfwood and when he died; the church-man was only around thirty years old… Vash was over a century older than him, and Wolfwood was wiser in many ways.

Vash sat down, legs crossed, and set one of the glasses on the sand, pouring a shot for Wolfwood first before serving himself. He sat with the drink in one hand while the other absently drew in the sand. He really didn't know what to say. Maybe this would be like those nights when he and Wolfwood would simply sit together and stare at a fire or the moons. Sometimes Vash would wear his glasses, and even now he had the urge to wear them.

He wouldn't hide. He wouldn't run.

Vash leaned forward to clink his glass with the one on the ground before downing his own. It slid down his throat smoother than butter after decades of drinking. Forgetting. Hiding. Avoiding. Abandoning. Running…

"A lots changed." Vash lapsed into silence. "The girls are doing okay." He chuckled. "Meryl and I did end up together after all." He could just imagine the smug grin and the teasing comments. "Sorry that we all haven't visited you or retrieved your cross sooner. It's gone, but since it's so full of mercy, maybe whoever picked it up will use it for good." Maybe someone would use it to kill. Maybe they wouldn't.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I should've… I don't know. I've met so many people, and no one was quite like you. You'd think I would've seen it all after being over a hundred years young." He barked a quick chuckle. "Life's strange and I took care of Knives. I'll take care of the girls too, but knowing them, they won't need it." He filled their shot glasses. "To love and peace." He knocked his head back. "Aaaaaah, tastes even better the second time!"

Vash set the glass to the side and moved a few of the gifts. He went on his hands and knees and concentrated. His fingers dug into the sand, his chin tucked against his chest, and he squinted tightly. As he felt the familiar prickling sensation radiate from the gate within his left arm, it immediately began traveling downward, through his fingers and into the sand. He felt the familiar blades of green protruding from the sand. To keep the grass from dying, he forced a little more of his energy into making sure they'd survive at least for a while. When he noticed that a dandelion also sprouted over the grave, he decided to use the seeds to plant other dandelions for the children. He then rearranged the gifts and made the grave more presentable again.

When he returned inside, he was greeted by a few children with sprinkles and crumbs stuck to their mouths. Other children continued to play with the toys Vash brought, but when some noticed his return, they went to the front door to greet him. Melanie eventually appeared from the kitchen alongside a nun and other assistance from the church.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Vash smiled at the children. "It's nice to feel appreciated."

"Vash, why don't you freshen up?" Melanie said as she wiped her hands with a towel. "We're making food and brewing fresh coffee and hot cocoa for the children."

Vash nodded. "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, but I gotta get through." Some children didn't move while others purposely blocked his path just to make his life even more difficult, but he didn't mind; having to circumvent children wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Vash entered and the bathroom with his supplies. He stretched, arms far above his head and his hands nearly touched the ceiling. Joints popped and bones cracked as he rotated his shoulders. He undressed and walked past the mirror to completely immerse himself in the shower.

He stepped out a few minutes later and toweled his hair before drying the rest of his torso. He ran a hand through his dried hair. He had been thinking about changing his hairstyle. He could let it grow. He could let it settle naturally. Rem had given him that cut, and similarly to Knives, he hadn't changed it after all these years. Maybe he should change that?

The mirror before him was misty from the hot water he used sparingly throughout the shower. He reached forward to wipe away the surface fog, then he began applying toothpaste to his toothbrush. He knew it didn't make sense to brush before a meal, but he wanted to feel clean after traveling across the planet for a few days.

Vash glanced at his reflection before the steam could cloud the mirror again. Blinking, he stared at where he had wiped the mirror, cocking his head to the side before leaning over the sink.

Was this some sort of biological thing? Knives didn't tell him this would happen. Did he know?

Vash lifted a hand to tangle black strands around his fingers. The lock of black was eye-catching among the golden blond ones. He was clueless as to what happened, but even Knives didn't know everything about their bodies. Shrugging, he looked around and found a pair of scissors out of reach of the children and snipped the hairs off. He rolled the strands between his fingers and felt how brittle and unhealthy they were.

It was probably nothing.