My Muse must have gotten into the amphetamines again, or something.
Over in the Recommendations thread, someone mentioned the post-EW Gundam Wing fic "Manifestations", here at www.fanfiction.net/s/2226187/1/
Which I opened up and began reading. Barely halfway through the first *page*, I hit this bit:
And, anyway....
--------------------------------------------------
Heero Yuy snapped awake without moving a muscle, or changing the rythm of his breathing. Even his heartrate barely altered.
He could tell that it was late, quiet, in what was obviously a hospital. And he had awakened because--
"Hello, Mr. Yuy."
--there was an intruder in his room. One who knew he was awake.
Tactically, feigning sleep or attempting an attack by speed alone were poor options. Heero elected to open his eyes and sit up slowly, smoothly, non-threateningly. The intruder was seated in the small hospital room's single chair, legs crossed, hands empty and in view, to all appearances casual and at ease.
That is, if one ignored his eyes. If one had not had the kinds of experience that gave Heero those same eyes, and the ability to recognize them in others' faces, no matter how well they were hidden.
This man was dangerous. Deadly in a way that only Heero, his fellow Gundam pilots, and a very few others were. Lethal to a degree where such fine distinctions as "hostility" and "intent" became essentially meaningless.
"You've recently made a commitment," the other man said levelly. "A commitment to never be forced to kill again." He drew out a moment of silence between tham. "You realize that will be a difficult vow to keep."
Heero saw no need to reply to the obvious, as his visitor had seen no need to belabor the equally evident subtexts layering that statement.
"You are not the first to walk this path," the man continued. "Others have gone down this road before you, with varying measures of success. And failure." He stood, nonthreateningly as Heero had, allowing the younger man to match his movement. Standing, they faced each other in the dim silence.
"I have brought you a tool, which you may find helpful." The man's hand moved in a smooth arc, grasping something that had not been there a moment before and tossing it underhand to Heero--
Who caught and half-drew the sheathed katana before he caught his reflex. Something in the blade caught at his conscious attention, and a tiny shock of startlement ran through him as he realized the cause. He looked at his visitor with a raised eyebrow.
"That sword was once the property of perhaps the greatest assassin the world has ever known. Without a doubt one of the half-dozen deadliest men of his entire era, and quite possibly -the- deadliest. That, however, is not the sword he used to kill."
Heero waited.
"No. What you hold is the sword he used -not- to kill, after making a commitment much like your own. After laying down his assassin's blade for the final time, upon the completion of his overarching mission."
A tiny vibration, like a resonance, seemed to touch Heero lightly in a way he could not have quite described. His eyes returned to the blade, despite the tactical risk of such an action.
"In the end, he could not keep that vow completely unbroken. But he did so sufficiently enough that -he himself- remained unbroken. He found a balance, between the assassin he had been and the man he desired to be." The visitor's mouth quirked slightly. "Rather like the harder and softer steels that make up the blade you now hold."
"A stick can kill. So can bare hands," Heero stated, his voice empty and colorless. "A reverse-blade sword is at least as lethal."
His visitor nodded, acknowledging the point. "Indeed. After all, he might as well have used the back edge of a normal sword, with similar effectiveness. But the sakabatou is not simply a blunted length of steel -- it was his symbol. His icon, if you will. A touchstone always at his side, where his assassin's blade had once resided -- a weapon that, in its very use, prevented him from forgetting his oath."
A tiny tremor shook Heero's hands, which he found disturbing. Even more disturbing was the way his hands moved apart without his express command, drawing the sword fully free of its sheath and bringing it to mid-guard. A shaft of moonlight through the (dangerously exposed, sniper threat) window, running down the blade like a drop of quicksilver to evaporate off the chisel-pointed tip.
"I hope you serve each other well," his visitor said elliptically, and turned towards the door.
He was almost there before Heero struggled past the anomalous paralysis in his vocal chords. "Who...? -Why-?" The minute edge of desperation in his voice was dangerous, revealing a vulnerability, but... his need (he should not feel -need-, -need- was dangerous, making one vulnerable and manipulateable) for the answer outweighed the risk.
He should have been disturbed by the hasty ease with which he revealed this weakness, but the part of him that should have cared seemed... numb. Distant. No longer completely attached....
His benefactor paused in the doorway for a long moment before turning around. "His name was Kenshin Himura, and he was a good friend of mine. Before he died, we spoke at some length about other individuals I knew of, his... comrades in peace, you could say, who might need assistance of a... sempai, so to speak." He smiled crookedly in the pale moonlight. "He made arrangements for it to pass into my hands, in time."
He turned to move through the doorway, but was caught by Heero's voice again.
"And you?"
"I?" his benefactor replied slowly, without turning. "I... am a traveler from an antique land." He stepped out the door, around the corner -- and was no longer in the hallway. Heero knew that with utter certainty.
It would be some time before a chance remark from Duo would lead Heero to the literary reference, and the layers of meaning behind it. But for tonight....
He moved the hospital bed and adjusted the curtains until he no longer provided an easy sniper target, but could still see the moon. He raised the back of the bed into a near-seated posture, tucked the sword beside him... and slept more peacefully than he could remember.
In his dreams, a small girl and her puppy came to him, again, but this time in a field of flowers rather than a waseland of rubble and fire. And this time... he was happy to see them again.
---------------------------------------------------------------
So... There are some really powerful parallels between where Heero is at the end of EW, and where Kenshin is immediately after the climactic battle of the Bakumatsu. I never thought of this before, but when it hit, it hit like *lightning.*
Challenge: there have to be other iconic artifacts that could well serve new caretakers. Heroes who could do justice to Captain America's shield, or Excalibur, or Raging Heart, or the Nautilus (the Blue Water version), or John Henry's hammers. All that's needed is some self-insert character to play PanDimensional Express.
![[Image: eyes.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/eyes.gif)
Over in the Recommendations thread, someone mentioned the post-EW Gundam Wing fic "Manifestations", here at www.fanfiction.net/s/2226187/1/
Which I opened up and began reading. Barely halfway through the first *page*, I hit this bit:
Quote:And that, right *then,* is when the bunny up and bit me on the...
The sight of the dead machine had been enough to make her feel sick. The thought of Heero climbing out of that, and making it back to the underground safe house was all she could take this morning. The search had been on for nearly thirteen hours now and no other survivors or bodies had been recovered. They had sketchy reports of around twenty-five people unaccounted for, but Relena was beginning to suspect that perhaps those few people had managed to sneak off during the confusion and had chose to avoid relating to the world that they were still alive. Part of her could understand that, and empathize with those who wished to move away from war as someone else entirely
The young man in front of her had made a declaration last night that would no doubt end his life, as he had known it. Heero had sworn that he would never be forced to kill again.
And, anyway....
--------------------------------------------------
Heero Yuy snapped awake without moving a muscle, or changing the rythm of his breathing. Even his heartrate barely altered.
He could tell that it was late, quiet, in what was obviously a hospital. And he had awakened because--
"Hello, Mr. Yuy."
--there was an intruder in his room. One who knew he was awake.
Tactically, feigning sleep or attempting an attack by speed alone were poor options. Heero elected to open his eyes and sit up slowly, smoothly, non-threateningly. The intruder was seated in the small hospital room's single chair, legs crossed, hands empty and in view, to all appearances casual and at ease.
That is, if one ignored his eyes. If one had not had the kinds of experience that gave Heero those same eyes, and the ability to recognize them in others' faces, no matter how well they were hidden.
This man was dangerous. Deadly in a way that only Heero, his fellow Gundam pilots, and a very few others were. Lethal to a degree where such fine distinctions as "hostility" and "intent" became essentially meaningless.
"You've recently made a commitment," the other man said levelly. "A commitment to never be forced to kill again." He drew out a moment of silence between tham. "You realize that will be a difficult vow to keep."
Heero saw no need to reply to the obvious, as his visitor had seen no need to belabor the equally evident subtexts layering that statement.
"You are not the first to walk this path," the man continued. "Others have gone down this road before you, with varying measures of success. And failure." He stood, nonthreateningly as Heero had, allowing the younger man to match his movement. Standing, they faced each other in the dim silence.
"I have brought you a tool, which you may find helpful." The man's hand moved in a smooth arc, grasping something that had not been there a moment before and tossing it underhand to Heero--
Who caught and half-drew the sheathed katana before he caught his reflex. Something in the blade caught at his conscious attention, and a tiny shock of startlement ran through him as he realized the cause. He looked at his visitor with a raised eyebrow.
"That sword was once the property of perhaps the greatest assassin the world has ever known. Without a doubt one of the half-dozen deadliest men of his entire era, and quite possibly -the- deadliest. That, however, is not the sword he used to kill."
Heero waited.
"No. What you hold is the sword he used -not- to kill, after making a commitment much like your own. After laying down his assassin's blade for the final time, upon the completion of his overarching mission."
A tiny vibration, like a resonance, seemed to touch Heero lightly in a way he could not have quite described. His eyes returned to the blade, despite the tactical risk of such an action.
"In the end, he could not keep that vow completely unbroken. But he did so sufficiently enough that -he himself- remained unbroken. He found a balance, between the assassin he had been and the man he desired to be." The visitor's mouth quirked slightly. "Rather like the harder and softer steels that make up the blade you now hold."
"A stick can kill. So can bare hands," Heero stated, his voice empty and colorless. "A reverse-blade sword is at least as lethal."
His visitor nodded, acknowledging the point. "Indeed. After all, he might as well have used the back edge of a normal sword, with similar effectiveness. But the sakabatou is not simply a blunted length of steel -- it was his symbol. His icon, if you will. A touchstone always at his side, where his assassin's blade had once resided -- a weapon that, in its very use, prevented him from forgetting his oath."
A tiny tremor shook Heero's hands, which he found disturbing. Even more disturbing was the way his hands moved apart without his express command, drawing the sword fully free of its sheath and bringing it to mid-guard. A shaft of moonlight through the (dangerously exposed, sniper threat) window, running down the blade like a drop of quicksilver to evaporate off the chisel-pointed tip.
"I hope you serve each other well," his visitor said elliptically, and turned towards the door.
He was almost there before Heero struggled past the anomalous paralysis in his vocal chords. "Who...? -Why-?" The minute edge of desperation in his voice was dangerous, revealing a vulnerability, but... his need (he should not feel -need-, -need- was dangerous, making one vulnerable and manipulateable) for the answer outweighed the risk.
He should have been disturbed by the hasty ease with which he revealed this weakness, but the part of him that should have cared seemed... numb. Distant. No longer completely attached....
His benefactor paused in the doorway for a long moment before turning around. "His name was Kenshin Himura, and he was a good friend of mine. Before he died, we spoke at some length about other individuals I knew of, his... comrades in peace, you could say, who might need assistance of a... sempai, so to speak." He smiled crookedly in the pale moonlight. "He made arrangements for it to pass into my hands, in time."
He turned to move through the doorway, but was caught by Heero's voice again.
"And you?"
"I?" his benefactor replied slowly, without turning. "I... am a traveler from an antique land." He stepped out the door, around the corner -- and was no longer in the hallway. Heero knew that with utter certainty.
It would be some time before a chance remark from Duo would lead Heero to the literary reference, and the layers of meaning behind it. But for tonight....
He moved the hospital bed and adjusted the curtains until he no longer provided an easy sniper target, but could still see the moon. He raised the back of the bed into a near-seated posture, tucked the sword beside him... and slept more peacefully than he could remember.
In his dreams, a small girl and her puppy came to him, again, but this time in a field of flowers rather than a waseland of rubble and fire. And this time... he was happy to see them again.
---------------------------------------------------------------
So... There are some really powerful parallels between where Heero is at the end of EW, and where Kenshin is immediately after the climactic battle of the Bakumatsu. I never thought of this before, but when it hit, it hit like *lightning.*
Challenge: there have to be other iconic artifacts that could well serve new caretakers. Heroes who could do justice to Captain America's shield, or Excalibur, or Raging Heart, or the Nautilus (the Blue Water version), or John Henry's hammers. All that's needed is some self-insert character to play PanDimensional Express.