A/N: Was there any doubt Vash is a hippie? Enjoy!
25. Tree Hugger
Vash wandered quietly through the groves of Little Arcadia, letting the cool night breeze ease some of the tension in his face. All around him were the sounds of the tree branches swaying in the gentle wind, the rustling of the leaves and the quiet groaning of the limbs whispering to him through the darkness, like a lost language that would reveal all the secrets of the universe, if only he knew how to listen. To Vash, at that moment, there was not a more beautiful sound in the world.
He approached one tree, an old oak judging by its impressive height and breadth. Vash gently placed his calloused hand against the tree's rough bark, tentatively at first, as if he needed permission to violate this plant's personal space. After a few moments, he became bolder, pressing both his palms, both natural and manmade, against the uneven surface of the tree. His fingers were like those of a blind holy man taking in a sacred text, eager and yet reverent as he traced every crevice and crack, every knot and bulge.
Vash felt as if he could sense everything in this tree's history through his hands, like he had been there when it was planted lovingly in the soil, when it had sprouted through the surface like an eager child, as it had grown and developed into something of full-fledged beauty. At the same time, Vash also felt that this tree had seen his beginnings, too. It was silly, because he was certain he was much older than this oak, but Vash couldn't help it. Trees were a part of his past, inexplicably tied to his earliest memories. Learning about the trees from Earth together with Knives during their lessons, playing hide-and-go-seek around them in the geo plant, listening to Rem's sweet voice as she read the twins fairy tales underneath the shade of large branches…
Without realizing it, Vash had begun to cry, rivulets of hot liquid streaming silently down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms lovingly around the oak's trunk, holding it as tightly as he could, as if clinging for dear life. He slowly sank to his knees, coming to rest at the tree's wide base, his weight sinking slightly into the springy turf. Vash pressed his cheek against the rough texture of the oak's skin, letting his tears fall unchecked, leaving dark smears where the moisture slid off his face and plopped onto the bark. The tree's limbs continued to sway above him, as if the branches were doing their best to return the embrace.
Trees held rings that held time itself, each alternating band encompassing the highest and lowest points of existence, chaos incarnate, but also the incarnation that all these things had to combine for the world to function, for things to makes sense. Trees were all the things that existed before the loneliness and the heartache and the loss and the disappointment and the pain and the anguish that had consumed Vash's life for over a century, a reminder that at one time, he had been truly, unabashedly happy. Trees were true happiness to Vash, love and peace and everything in between. If trees could grow on this dustbowl of a planet, in the middle of the barren desert, in the midst of cruelty and greed and the worst parts of humanity, then maybe there was hope after all. Maybe all of this wasn't in vain.
Vash realized that it was more than a bit silly for him to be hugging a tree in the middle of the night, crying like a lost child. He knew that if the insurance girls found him creeping around in the dark like some vagabond, Meryl would smack him good. He knew that he shouldn't be wasting time like this instead of looking for Knives to settle their century-long conflict, once and for all. But none of that matter then. Right then, at that very moment, all that mattered was that Vash, the Humanoid Typhoon, the Devil in Red, the Demon from July, the Stampede Himself, felt just a little more calm. For one of the few, brief moments in his long life, Vash felt like he was in the right place at the right time, fulfilling the purpose he had been created for.
Because at that moment, as he kneeled on the ground hugging that tree and crying softly, listening to the rustle of the leaves and the groaning of the limbs above him whisper in the night air, the trees were speaking to Vash, and it was exactly what he needed to hear.