A/N: This story generally follows the manga ending with a lot of elements from the original anime thrown in, such as the romance between Milly and Wolfwood. Although it has an OC, the story will mostly be Knives-centric. The overall story won't be too dark.
Enjoy!
Knives seals a thick envelope with a rough swipe of his tongue and reaches for his pen. The tip of the writing tool almost touches the coarse paper but stalls above the center of the envelope and, after a few seconds, he puts the pen down. Instead of writing the intended address like he or his assistant have for the last nineteen years, he leaves it blank. He decides to follow through with visiting the orphanage for the first and last time.
Hopeland Orphanage should be financially stable now due to his generous donations over the years. His support for this particular organization is, to a degree, due to his role in the involvement of some of its orphans and the Eye of Michael, the plant-worshiping cult that used to provide him with exceptional assassins. One man, however, stands out amongst them all.
The Punisher.
Before the man's demise, Nicholas D. Wolfwood had been a close friend to Knives's brother, Vash. And Vash would never truly forgive him for taking away his friend.
Ultimately, the donations, albeit miniscule in the grand scheme of things, fit into his overall plans of redemption. For all that humanity endured due to his past wrongdoings. He now hopes of peacefully coexisting with humans– peacefully being the key word. In turn, perhaps Vash could one day see a changed Knives and they could return to how things once were.
The thought of Vash always makes him a bit melancholy. The longing to see his twin is immense, yet he waits for a better time to reveal himself. For now, he gets up from his chair, making up his mind to deliver the final payment, to lessen the burden on his heart and move forward.
Although the moons are still high in the skies of No Man's Land, he gathers his outerwear. Not requiring sleep can be a good thing for a man who is tight on time. Ironically, he is not a man and his life is blessed with ample time. Nevertheless, the door slams behind him, the force a reflection of his determination.
Every soul on the planet knows, and would never forget, Knives never does anything halfheartedly.
Before venturing inside, Knives walks around the orphanage grounds, noticing the small details such as chipped paint and hairline cracks along the external walls due to the harsh environment of the planet. The building can use some work, but overall the infrastructure looks sturdy and the children playing outside appear well-fed and content. It is not that he particularly cares about the humans being healthy, let alone happy– he shivers at the thought of him caring about that– he only wants these creatures to bother the local plant as little as humanly possible.
A young boy has run off to inform the matron in charge of the stranger's sudden appearance, looking highly suspicious of the masked figure who only has his eyes exposed. Knives doesn't give a damn. The human can go tell all his stupid little friends about him and hopefully trip over his own feet and smash his-
He sighs and shakes his head. That line of thought is dangerous and should be avoided.
He resumes his impromptu inspection of the facility, striding around like he owns the place. Considering how many double dollars he has poured into the place up to this point, he probably, technically does.
His boots slow down as his ears pick up the melodies of a piano. His feet gravitate closer and he hears a feminine voice singing. In no time, he is standing in front of the window of a music room, peering upon dozens of children sitting behind a dark-haired young girl. Her fingers dance along the keys of a piano. What he hears next unnerves him.
"So… on the second evening… the children of the pebble join hands… and compose a waltz."
How long has it been since he last heard these words? 170 years? He did not think he would ever hear these lyrics, this tune, this blasted song, ever again. His blood pressure spikes with a surge of emotions as if someone flew open the gates of hellfire, specially made for him. He feels a roaring combustion of disgust, jealousy, and even a teeny bit of guilt. Overwhelmed and worried by his body's sudden reaction, he storms out. He does not realize that both the piano and the singing stops and the girl catches the white tail of his coat disappear around the corner.
The director of Hopeland Orphanage bows her head repeatedly while clutching the envelope close to her chest in gratitude.
"It's an honor to finally meet our anonymous benefactor. We've been receiving your help for so long but to think it was from someone so young," she trails off, emphasizing the last two words in a mix of awe and scrutiny. From what the matron can see of Knives's face, he looks awfully young for someone who has been sending money to them for nearly two decades– not even a single wrinkle in sight! So different from her droopy, wrinkly skin. It is almost beyond comprehension, but she has first handedly witnessed truly incredulous things in her lifetime so who is she to judge?
Before the plant can reply, a swarm of children, along with the piano-playing human he wants to avoid, comes towards them in a gregarious horde. The girl easily towers over the children, not only due to her being older than them. His shoulders stiffen.
"Miss Melanie!" the piano player says, "do you need help with anything else while I'm here? Oh!" She faces him. "Oh my, is this who I think it is?" Her blue eyes nearly sparkle and her voice reaches a high-pitch.
"Yes, Adora dear, he is indeed our most gracious, mysterious benefactor." Melanie beams at the young woman before lowering her head again to Knives. "Good sir, how could we ever repay you?"
He harrumphed. "It doesn't matter." As if there is anything he can want from these humans.
"Would you mind telling us a name, at least?"
"There is no need for you to know." Being in the company of so many humans, no matter how young and small in stature they are, grated Knives's nerves. The fact that they are obnoxiously loud and fidgety makes it that much worse. The worst thing, however, is the girl. He frowns– her mere presence bothers him for some reason. Other than her singing Rem's song, something seems oddly familiar about her despite never having seen this girl in his long life.
And why is she looking at him like that?
He catches her staring with furrowed brows and a finger touching her bottom lip. He stares back, unwilling to back down from an impromptu staring contest. Surely, someone so young wouldn't be able to recognize him as the megalomaniac, destroyer of humanity from two decades ago?
However, upon closer inspection, his bright, unclouded yet piercing eyes remind her of someone. Her eyes widen with something akin to recognition.
Time to leave.
"Well, anyhow, thank you so much for your generosity all these years. I swear, your money was not used carelessly," Melanie suddenly breaks up the tension in the air. Both the plant and the human girl look away from each other, the former turning completely away from her.
"I know that," he gruffs and pauses. As much as he wants to simply walk out the gates and never return, he decides to impart one last gift, even if it makes the girl more suspicious. Call it a farewell gift, an ant-sized step towards atonement for his sins against humanity.
Without looking back, Knives raises one hand and leans forward to touch the dry, barren ground in front of him. Miraculously, a verdant sprout emerges through the cracks of tawny soil, rearing its head. Several gasps are heard from behind him but they don't stop his concentration. Only a few seconds go by for the sprout to become a sapling and then a full-grown tree, bearing red, juicy apples from its branches. Shouts of excitement and awe erupt from the crowd but Knives walks onwards without a glance back, his mission here complete.
This situation reminds him of the time he made the fruit tree to thank the doctor and son who saved him and Vash, which led to everyone thinking he died in the process. He is fairly certain Vash also believes him dead, since he never came to look for him again. It's true that he was so weak to the point of dematerialization, but he managed to crawl back to a plant and regenerated over many years. The donations were sent appropriately by a hired assistant– may Vash never discover how Knives achieved this feat, though the thought amused Knives.
"Wait, sir!" He hears her voice but he doesn't stop– in fact, he walks even faster. "Please wait!"
Ripping the mask off his face and reveling in the new sense of freedom, his long strides take him farther away from the chaotic scene of his creation.
After walking for nearly half an hour at an even pace under the scorching sun of the desert, Knives is sure most human girls would've given up. Knives turns around and squints.
But why is it that this girl is still following him? How does she even keep up? Damn her long legs. She's been awfully quiet but she's most likely conserving her meager human energy since even a simpleton will know that shouting at an unresponsive recipient in the middle of a desert trek will achieve nothing but dry out her throat and fill her mouth with sand. What can she possibly want from him anyways?
He doesn't want to find out.
Half an hour turns into half a day and he still feels her blasted presence about thirty steps behind his own, though their distance widens with the hours.
His thoughts bring him to the time young Vash had followed his trail like this, after the Big Fall, lagging behind but persistent nonetheless. Despite the stress that Vash must've been under, it remains a good memory for Knives, in which he traveled with his brother, just the two of them for miles on end with minimal human contact.
"Kyaaaaaaa!" A blood-curdling cry jolts him from his reverie and fills the air following a slight rumble of the earth. He turns his head to see that the idiot fell into a worm hole. His face deadpan, Knives sighs and tries to resume his walk.
"Help!" The girl's voice is muffled from being underground but the panic is evident. "Please, please, oh please don't leave me here alone, Mister Plant!"
That shocks him out of exasperation, enough for him to backtrack his steps.
"What did you just say?" Arms folded, Knives looks down at her crumbled form from the edge of the hole.
"Um… Mister Plant? You are a plant, aren't you?" He regrets making a tree appear in front of human witnesses.
"And what does a little human girl like you know about plants?" Probably something she learned from textbooks, or by observing the suffering of his kind encased in bulb-containers, or-
"I know a lot, actually! Uncle Vash taught me a ton."
"Uncle Vash?" Disgust sweeps over him at the title. How does she know Vash?
"Yeah, I live with him and Aunt Meryl and mama!" Her words are one bombshell to another. He knows that Vash still lives amongst the humans but this information is interesting. This girl might prove to be a fountain of knowledge about his little brother. "You know, you look so much like Uncle Vash. He told me he had a brother but, well…" she trails off. Well, what?
"Why were you following me? Are you trying to find a way to use me?"
"Mister Plant, why would I want to use you? You shouldn't use people, you know. And look, I'd love to continue chatting, but do you mind getting me out of here first, please?" She brings her palms together to beg, flashing her best puppy eyes up at his shadowed figure above. "I feel like a sand worm is about to have me as a snack in two seconds, heh." She holds up two fingers in a V-sign.
In a single jump, Knives lands next to the kneeling girl, lifts her onto his shoulder like a bothersome sack of potatoes, ignoring her "woah" and "ah" at his firm grip on her glutes, and jumps out. He tosses her down on solid ground without ceremony yet a gush of praise and gratitude commences. It isn't even a big hole but the way the girl enthuses makes it sound like he jumped out of a volcano. Dramatic woman, he thinks.
He is unsure why he even saved her. She confounds him. She must've heard Vash sing Rem's song or she could've learned it elsewhere– it's not an impossibility. Yet something about her is like a puzzle Knives wants to piece together.
"Who are you?" He demands.
"What kind of question is that?" She laughs as if he's silly, but different from the way Knives used to laugh at Vash. Her smile reaches her eyes and shines with unconcealed warmth for a being who stands before her, frowning. "I'm Adora Wolfwood!" She boasts, "Daughter of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the best human gunman in all of No Man's Land and Milly Thompson, the kindest, sweetest mama ever!"
Knives looks at the cheerful girl in front of him and then turns his attention to the orange-hued skies. He decides to simply close his eyes.
Why won't Nicholas D. Wolfwood leave him alone?
A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my story. Please let me know your thoughts! :) The final length of the story is undecided. I hope there are still Trigun fans reading out there. Have a wonderful day!