Diclaimer: I don't own Trigun.
AN: I'm jumping ahead a little in order to get SOMETHING up on the net.
Ch 8 :As a child of six
Once again Vash's little group was moving to another town. Life was like that in the presence of the humanoid typhoon. For one reason or another, it became best to move on. And there were multitude reasons, if Vash's reputation or bounty didn't do it, Knives' actions in public caused discomfort, and if neither of them messed things up, the rate at which Nicky grew would start gossip after more than a few months in any town.
Milly and Meryl had taken Knives with them to see about tickets for the sand steamer.
It was when Vash was sitting there with Nicky in the suns' light, guarding luggage that a little scene of unforseen importance unfolded. Nicky sat happily on Vash's knee, swinging his legs idly, the sun shining off his light brown hair.
"Why do you have so many scars, Daddy?" Pipes up that adorable child's voice, sweet and high.
"Because I vowed never to kill. It's the price I paid for it."
"But why don't you heal them?"
"I can't."
"Of course you can heal your scars Daddy. They just need to be forgiven and accepted. You have never really scarred on your face have you? Didn't you wonder why?"
"I assumed it was because it was never deeply wounded."
"No, it's not." Nicky counters, with the absolute certainty of youth. "It's because people look at it every day and accept it as human."
"You don't scar so bad when someone who loves you, and you love, binds the wound, do you?"
Vash becomes hesitant. The boy is beginning to feel like a solar panel, absorbing sunlight to make it into energy. ".No."
"We can't heal alone Daddy. But we can together. I'll show you." Nicky takes Vash's right hand in both of his little ones, carefully grasps it and holds it up in the sunlight. Studying it carefully, he traces and memorises every contour, every flaw and scar. Big and small, the scars are multitude, and Nicky shows complete acceptance of them.
"This one."
Nicky points to an angry red scar running up the side of the pinky. "This one can be healed, because I hold it every day. The love should flow right through." He says, using his own personal logic flawlessly. He hugs the hand to his chest awkwardly, then lifts it up to kiss it with the casual tenderness of a child. Then he strokes his hand over it gently, as though to calm it. And it does calm. Slowly over the next few minutes, the angry redness fades, and the skin relaxes, the scar loses it's appearance of being freshly healed. For Vash it feels almost as though he's caught in the static cloud from a windstorm. There's something powerful behind what Nicky's doing. When he finishes, the scar is still there, but now it doesn't hurt. Nicky grins triumphantly and holds the finger up for Vash's inspection.
"Amazing."
"Not really. You've had that scar fifteen years, it's about time it showed it's age."
Nicky responded in casual sardonic Osakan, momentarily the very picture of Wolfwood despite the child's voice and pudgy cheeks. A stark reminder to Vash that his child is not ordinary in any way. Then he cocks his head at Vash, once again just a kid with odd memories, and says in a mixture of adult and child viewpoints. "You know daddy, I'm glad I'm still a child, I'm gonna get a lot less inclined to kiss you when we stand the same height again." "Woe is me, how am I ever gonna heal the scars on my butt?" "Kiss them yourself, tongari." At this they both laughed, as the suns slipped a little lower onto the horizon, and a handful of tickets were bought for a very strange family.
TBC, as usual.
AN: I'm jumping ahead a little in order to get SOMETHING up on the net.
Ch 8 :As a child of six
Once again Vash's little group was moving to another town. Life was like that in the presence of the humanoid typhoon. For one reason or another, it became best to move on. And there were multitude reasons, if Vash's reputation or bounty didn't do it, Knives' actions in public caused discomfort, and if neither of them messed things up, the rate at which Nicky grew would start gossip after more than a few months in any town.
Milly and Meryl had taken Knives with them to see about tickets for the sand steamer.
It was when Vash was sitting there with Nicky in the suns' light, guarding luggage that a little scene of unforseen importance unfolded. Nicky sat happily on Vash's knee, swinging his legs idly, the sun shining off his light brown hair.
"Why do you have so many scars, Daddy?" Pipes up that adorable child's voice, sweet and high.
"Because I vowed never to kill. It's the price I paid for it."
"But why don't you heal them?"
"I can't."
"Of course you can heal your scars Daddy. They just need to be forgiven and accepted. You have never really scarred on your face have you? Didn't you wonder why?"
"I assumed it was because it was never deeply wounded."
"No, it's not." Nicky counters, with the absolute certainty of youth. "It's because people look at it every day and accept it as human."
"You don't scar so bad when someone who loves you, and you love, binds the wound, do you?"
Vash becomes hesitant. The boy is beginning to feel like a solar panel, absorbing sunlight to make it into energy. ".No."
"We can't heal alone Daddy. But we can together. I'll show you." Nicky takes Vash's right hand in both of his little ones, carefully grasps it and holds it up in the sunlight. Studying it carefully, he traces and memorises every contour, every flaw and scar. Big and small, the scars are multitude, and Nicky shows complete acceptance of them.
"This one."
Nicky points to an angry red scar running up the side of the pinky. "This one can be healed, because I hold it every day. The love should flow right through." He says, using his own personal logic flawlessly. He hugs the hand to his chest awkwardly, then lifts it up to kiss it with the casual tenderness of a child. Then he strokes his hand over it gently, as though to calm it. And it does calm. Slowly over the next few minutes, the angry redness fades, and the skin relaxes, the scar loses it's appearance of being freshly healed. For Vash it feels almost as though he's caught in the static cloud from a windstorm. There's something powerful behind what Nicky's doing. When he finishes, the scar is still there, but now it doesn't hurt. Nicky grins triumphantly and holds the finger up for Vash's inspection.
"Amazing."
"Not really. You've had that scar fifteen years, it's about time it showed it's age."
Nicky responded in casual sardonic Osakan, momentarily the very picture of Wolfwood despite the child's voice and pudgy cheeks. A stark reminder to Vash that his child is not ordinary in any way. Then he cocks his head at Vash, once again just a kid with odd memories, and says in a mixture of adult and child viewpoints. "You know daddy, I'm glad I'm still a child, I'm gonna get a lot less inclined to kiss you when we stand the same height again." "Woe is me, how am I ever gonna heal the scars on my butt?" "Kiss them yourself, tongari." At this they both laughed, as the suns slipped a little lower onto the horizon, and a handful of tickets were bought for a very strange family.
TBC, as usual.