Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Fighting Spirits ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Neither Gundam Wing nor Rurouni Kenshin belong to me. They're both the property of large Japanese corporations whose names I can't recall right now. If I owned them, would I be writing fanfic?

Notes: This is set at the end of Endless Waltz, just before Wufei blows up Nataku. It will make sense if you've never seen Rurouni Kenshin, but probably won't be entirely clear to those who haven't seen Gundam Wing and Endless Waltz. Additionally, I'd like to thank Thea for beta-reading this for me.

Backdating: This was written in September 2004.

Leaving Nataku in the deep mountain valley he'd chosen as its resting place, Wufei trudged up the narrow path to the town clinging to a mountainside to the north. He spotted Sally as he walked the narrow streets, and knew she'd seen him, though neither acknowledged that they'd noticed the other. He knew that she was here to ask him to join the Preventers after he destroyed his Gundam.

The pilot of Gundam Altron had been included in the amnesty offered to all of Mariemeia's soldiers - in fact, he'd been honored for his change in allegiance, and the aid he'd given the angry citizens. But the offer was only a formality. The citizens of Earth and Space still didn't know the identities of the Gundam pilots, and they never would; in fact, only a few members of the government had that knowledge. However, Lady Une was among them, and she had made it very clear that she still considered him a security risk. In his brief conversations with the other pilots, they'd all felt obligated to tell him that she'd be much happier if he became a Preventer agent.

Though he was deep in thought, mulling over the idea of becoming a peacekeeper, Wufei was still alert enough to notice something distinctly out of place among the traditional houses of the small Chinese town. Pausing, he stared at the Japanese restaurant seated between two small stores. The townsfolk ignored it as they walked by, implying that it had been here for a while. The... Akabeko, he read, his brow furrowing. Interesting. I wouldn't think there'd be a great demand for Japanese cuisine in this little place, but if it's been around for a while, it's obviously making money. That would imply that it either had very good food, or served more than just Japanese specialties. Either way, it was the most respectable-looking restaurant he'd seen so far, and his stomach was rumbling softly, as if to remind him that he hadn't eaten more than a single ration bar in the last two days.

Shrugging philosophically, Wufei walked in. He was even more surprised to realize that it was furnished in a very old style - even the clothing of the young woman manning the restaurant seemed antique, although he was no expert in Japanese dress. There was only one person in one of the cell-like booths, and while in itself the lack of customers wasn't surprising at this time of the afternoon, Wufei would be willing to bet his sword that the clothing the young man was wearing wasn't from this century. Some sort of reenactor, or someone going to a costume party later? he wondered, taking in the skirt-like pants, sandals, and tattered shirt.

Seeing the Japanese writing on the walls, and disinclined to put in the effort to interpret it on the chance that it might be a menu - Japanese and Chinese were similar, yes, but not identical, and in this day and age and colony-born, he was only passably good at reading even Chinese symbols - Wufei nodded to the lone server. "I'd like a seat," he told her. "And whatever your cook is best at."

"Of course!" He was almost surprised that she spoke English, and definitely surprised that it bore no trace of an accent whatsoever, as she was as Japanese as her restaurant. She beamed at him and nodded, leading him to the booth across from the costumed young man. As he sat cross-legged on the raised floor and waited for his food, he glanced over at his fellow customer. It always paid to be attentive to the people around you, especially if they were armed. The young man was of the same ethnicity as the restaurant and the woman, though he had red hair and - rather peculiarly - violet eyes. The crossed scars on the cheek facing Wufei seemed to suggest that the sword hanging from his belt was just not for show. Then again, Trieze's hadn't been, either; swordsmanship had become popular again as his celebrity grew. Wufei forced himself not to shy away from the thought, as much as he wanted to. Interesting. A Japanese fencer, in a decidedly Japanese restaurant in the center of a Chinese mountain village. I suppose he must be related to the owner. The thought occurred to him suddenly that many of the old Alliance freedom fighters, two years ago, had been from other Asian nations, trying to concentrate where it would do the most good. Perhaps that explained both the restaurant and its success - a group of Japanese fighters, settling in an old hide-out? He wouldn't assume its truth, but it seemed to be a solid theory.

Apparently sensing his gaze, the man turned, and Wufei raised his mental estimation of the red-head's age - then dropped it again as the young man gave him a cheerful smile. He didn't smile back, just nodded politely in acknowledgment of the expression, but that didn't seem to disturb the man. In fact, a moment later, without any clear indication of exactly how the rapid change had happened, the other man was sitting across from him, still smiling despite the cocked gun pointing at him. "I don't mean you any harm, " the man said calmly. "It is just lonely to sit alone, de gozaru."

After a moment of trying and failing to figure out the odd tag to the sentence, Wufei cautiously lowered the gun, tucking it back under his trenchcoat. "I'm not lonely," he said shortly, hoping the man would take the hint.

He didn't. "You looked alone, de gozaru," he said, still with that calm smile. It was just mild enough not to be annoying in its constancy, which was the only good thing about the man in Wufei's eyes. "And troubled. Ah, here is your food!" he exclaimed, as the woman set down a bowl on the small table between them. "Your beef hot-pots look delicious as always, Tae-san," he complimented the woman, beaming up at her.

"Thank you, Himura-san," she exclaimed happily, blushing. "Would you like some?"

"No, but could you bring us some sake please, Tae-san?" the man asked politely. When the woman went scurrying off, he turned that smile back on Wufei. "I am Himura Kenshin, de gozaru." Even though the Japanese had switched to a Western naming style years ago, there was a note to the pronunciation of the name that made Wufei sure "Himura" was the man's surname.

Wufei glared at the man, who seemed oblivious to the expression. In the face of that cheerful and oddly knowing smile, though, he couldn't help but reply, though it was a growl through gritted teeth. "Chang Wufei."

"I hope I'm not bothering you, Chang-san," Himura said, apparently unable to realize that he already was. "But you truly look in need of company, de gozaru. Oh, thank you, Tae-san. Would you like some sake?" he added as it arrived.

"No," Wufei snapped. "I am not here to drink. I am here to eat before I go do an extremely important, serious task, and I would much rather be left alone!" Rude, maybe, but he was in a bad mood, was not looking forward to what he was about to do, was still unsure of what his path in life should be from here, and didn't appreciate being harassed by an annoying man in odd dress.

"Ah," Himura said, his voice knowing and his expression going a bit sad. "It is like that, de gozaru?" He paused, but just as Wufei was hoping he would get the hint and leave, he spoke again. "You are not just a bit troubled, you are unhappy," he stated with confidence. "What has happened to cause this, Chang-san?"

About to snarl at the man to get lost, Wufei paused. It hurt, holding all the bitterness and self-doubt inside, and there was an aura around Himura that seemed to promise that some of that pain would go away if he only let it out. Himura would be trustworthy, it seemed to offer. He distrusted the feeling immediately, but that didn't stop it from affecting him. Despite the war-trained instincts urging wariness upon him, he heard himself speak, as if it was another person talking. "I was on the wrong side of the war," he said bluntly. "I thought my course would lead to justice, and I was wrong."

Out loud, he knew it would sound ridiculous to anyone else; logically, he knew it was ridiculous, but that didn't keep it from troubling his heart. To his surprise, Himura nodded solemnly, as if it made perfect sense. "I see," he said seriously. "Many men have felt that way after wars, de gozaru. I among them."

It hadn't even occurred to Wufei that other warriors might share that feeling, and it stunned him for a moment. As he came out of the moment of shock, he noted Himura's self-inclusion in that group. He didn't bother to ask which war the man had been in, or on which side; he might have been with an isolated group of Sally's rebels, or he might have been an OZ officer, and Wufei found that he didn't particularly care. Besides, asking might serve as an invitation for Himura to ask the same about him. "Ever since I began fighting, it has been for Nataku's justice, and in her name. I am beginning to wonder if those were the right reasons to fight." It wasn't until after he said it that he realized he'd spoken aloud. Cursing mentally, he wondered how he could have been that careless. Maybe it was the fumes from the sake?

But Himura was looking at him thoughtfully. "Justice is one of the right reasons to fight, de gozaru," he said slowly, after a long moment of silence. "But I am not sure that fighting for someone else's justice is a right reason." His violet eyes were contemplative and sad as he stared at Wufei.

Unsure of how to respond to that, Wufei chose to ignore it. "It doesn't matter," he said brusquely, dismissing that line of thought. "Today I will lay Nataku to rest. The war is over for good, and there is nothing more to fight for. But I am still a warrior...."

"And it is not easy to silence the warrior's heart," Himura supplied. "I have seen many men try to run from their fighting spirits, and others embrace them, and still others adapt them to the new era. Those who adapt seem the happiest, de gozaru," he added, as if to himself.

Wufei's head shot up, and he stared at the red-headed man. "How do they adapt?" he asked, as calmly as he could manage. This felt vaguely foolish, but the question had begged to be asked. This was what he'd fought for the past year, what had lead him into Mariemeia's army - the desire for battle, the fighting spirit that Himura was speaking of. While many of the soldiers in the last war had joined her, countless more had stayed out of the battle, and not all of them had been peaceful people by nature. Wufei had met some of them while Mariemeia was recruiting. Asking them directly how they'd stayed out of the fighting would be humiliating, but hearing it second-hand from this man didn't seem nearly so embarrassing.

Himura smiled mildly. "By finding ways to fit their fighting spirits to the times, de gozaru," he explained. "One man I know became a police officer, truly rooting out evil and corruption instead of hoping that those his army attacked were evil. One sought to take care of his squad, who were even more ill-suited to a life of peace, and were it not for unfortunate circumstance I believe he would have made a place for himself that way. Some devoted themselves to raising a child. One I know of became a wanderer, using his sword to protect those around him from those who would break the law. He found friendship and family and became very happy, de gozaru." Wufei idly wondered how long ago that man had been discharged, to have been able to do so much. And saying he'd used his sword was certainly an unusual metaphor.

Thinking about it, he noticed a common thread in the stories. "So most of them protected people, in some way or another," he said slowly. "The police officer... the caretaker... the parents... even the wanderer. Is that truly a good way to subdue the desire to fight?"

"I have found it so, de gozaru," Himura said, his smile a bit more intense. He radiated sincerity.

Something to protect.... Hadn't Nataku died for that, to protect the colony? The thought was startling - he'd never looked at it that way before. She'd ranted and preached about justice so much that it had seemed to fill her life, but in the end, she'd died for her clan, not for some intangible concept. A deep shame spread through him as he recognized how long it had taken him to realize it. Was I right, fighting for justice? he wondered, and the harsh question was even more serious than it had been before. "But Nataku fought," he answered himself, again aloud. "That's how I always knew her, as a fighter. I feel closer to her when I'm fighting." This was getting to be a nasty habit. Hopefully it was the sake fumes, because it could also be a risky one if it remained after he left the restaurant. Speaking his inner thoughts out loud could become very messy.

Luckily, Himura seemed trustworthy. A little voice warned him that he was falling even further under the influence of that dangerous aura of goodwill, but he ignored it. What is it Duo says? In for a penny, in for a pound? And the most telling argument of all was the realization that the aura's earlier promise was proving to be true. As he spoke, some of the pain in his heart was fading, as if it rode out on the words.

"But she would not expect you to fight in a time that is not for fighting," Himura said gently. "She would not want you to spend your whole life sacrificing yourself to honor her memory, de gozaru. Your wife was not a cruel person, who would rob you of the chance of happiness just so you could feel closer to her, and you are not a cruel person, to trap her spirit in this world with your worship. Some memories have to be let go if you want to move on, de gozaru." There was a quiet sorrow in the man's voice, a sort of bitter wisdom that struck Wufei to the core. He hadn't said so, but Wufei knew somehow that Himura had let go of some of his own memories in order to make a new life. The sadness was palpable enough that he didn't really notice the strange knowledge of his past that had been included in the statement.

When a few minutes had passed and Himura didn't seem inclined to go on, Wufei looked up from the thoughts that had been forming and spoke again. "So those who adapted their fighting spirits... protected others," he said slowly. His chopsticks scraped the bottom of the bowl, and he looked down only long enough to realize with some surprise that it was empty before looking up again to wait for the other man's reply.

The sunny smile returned to Himura's face with jarring abruptness, so quickly that it almost seemed to bely its own sincerity. "Most of them did," the red-head agreed, nodding vigorously. He directed the full force of the smile at Wufei, and it wasn't the mild one from before - the Gundam pilot nearly swayed under its impact. "You don't seem quite so troubled now, de gozaru. Are you ready for this important and serious task?"

To his surprise, Wufei realized that he was ready. He'd come into town hoping to delay the moment, his heart troubled by the thought of destroying his last link with Nataku, but now he was at peace with the act he had come to commit. What did Himura say? Trapping her in this world with my worship? It was a peculiar phrasing, but he thought he understand the spirit of it. It was time to let Nataku move on, as well as himself.

Nodding, he rose, directing a slight bow towards Himura. It wasn't something he'd normally do outside of his clan, but the respectful gesture seemed appropriate somehow. He felt that Himura would understand its meaning. "Actually, I am. Thank you for... talking to me." Had they only talked? It felt like someone had opened a hidden door inside his soul. Dismissing that thought, he looked around for the server.

"I'm glad I could help, de gozaru." Himura smiled sunnily at him. "Oh, don't worry about paying Tae-san. I will pay her, in exchange for the company." Wufei threw him a startled look, and his smile took on a sheepish cast. "I was lonely too, de gozaru."

Wufei nodded. "Goodbye, Himura." Turning, he headed for the door.

"Goodbye, Chang-san!" the man called after him.

"Thank you, Himura," the young Chinese woman said, standing in front of the booth. "I needed him to talk to somebody who could help him see what he needed to see."

"It was a pleasure, Meilan-dono," he said, smiling sunnily at her. The aura of goodwill he'd used to cozen Wufei into speaking his thoughts still floated around him; it wasn't really deliberate, just a side-effect of no longer having a true body in which to contain the good-natured aspect of his soul. "He has promise, that young man. I only hope I've helped him, de gozaru." His eyes sparkled. "But have I been using the wrong name?"

The girl flushed. "Meilan is fine," she insisted quickly. "I was young, and full of myself. Death does put things in perspective. Still, I'm in your debt, after dragging you here like this."

"It was nothing," he assured her. "He listened well to what I had to say. I think he knew inside what he was meant to do, he just needed to hear it from another voice as well, de gozaru. He is already one who protects, he just hadn't thought to see it that way. It is Tae-san and the Akabeko that had the difficult part, twisting place and time. You were careful about fogging her mind, I hope?" Violet eyes regarded her anxiously.

"I was very careful, and I put the Akabeko back very carefully. You were the one who wanted to use them in the first place, anyway. Remember, I've had quite a bit more experience at being a ghost than you have," Meilan pointed out. "You didn't have somebody holding you down like that, and trapping you inside a Gundam, too. I did what I could, since I was there anyway, but it's time he let go."

Himura Kenshin nodded, still smiling. This was quite outside his usual purview, but the girl had come straight to him for help - though for the life of him, he still couldn't figure out how she'd conceived the idea, as he was only famous as the Battousai - and it was nearly impossible for him to turn down such a desperate plea. He was glad he had; he thought the idea of protecting with the sword had already existed in the boy's mind, but Chang-san had needed some help drawing it out into the open. Protecting with the Gundam, he reminded himself. The afterlife didn't provide much education in current affairs, but the girl had given him an incredibly confusing crash course out of which only the war, the boy's life, and the Gundam had been at all comprehensible. She spent so much time talking about it. Well, the boy did turn it into her spirit's dwelling, de gozaru.

"Am I finished?" he asked her. She was beginning to fade, and he felt a strange prickling sensation that he didn't want to know the cause of - or what its cause might look like from a mortal point of view. "This is quite irregular already, de gozaru."

"Yes. Thank you, and if I show up wherever you are... remember, I owe you a debt," she said, giving him a grateful smile. He nodded and smiled back, and then she was gone, and so was he, and there was a sickening lurch, and then his friends were around him again....

It wasn't until he was outside and two blocks away that Wufei, thinking back over the conversation, noticed something amiss. His eyes widened. I suppose I might have implied that Nataku was dead, but I never told him she was my wife! Spinning, he ran back to the Akabeko.

Or rather, he tried to run back there. Although he was certain he was in the right street, the little Japanese restaurant wasn't there. He searched the entire town, but somehow, it seemed to have vanished into thin air. Finally, he addressed a local for help. "Where can I find the Akabeko?"

"The what?" the woman asked, looking puzzled.

"The Japanese restaurant," he explained, and she shook her head.

"We've never had one of those about, not that I've seen. Are you looking for it? Perhaps it's in a nearby town, and you got lost...."

The next three people he questioned answered in the same vein. Frustrated, confused, and starting to believe that he'd hallucinated the entire episode, Wufei headed back down the mountain trail. Nevermind the business about the restaurant. He had a more important thing to take care of. It was high time Nataku rested in peace and he got on with life. It probably is time I finished mourning for her, he thought. With the Clan dead, the worst way to dishonor their memories would be to refuse pass on their blood because she was not the woman I did it with. My children will carry on her legacy. If he ever had children, it would only happen if he did move on with his life, as Himura had suggested.

He could tell someone was trailing him, and only the knowledge that it was Sally kept him from pouncing on them with his gun drawn. Thinking of Himura's sword, he wondered what effect it would have on the woman if he leapt at her with his own blade, and snorted softly in amusement at the mental image that thought produced. But his sword was back in the village inn, with the rest of the few belongings he'd salvaged from Nataku's cockpit. He still had the question of whether to join the Preventers hovering in the back of his mind, and Sally was only aggravating the dilemma.

The men Himura had spoken of... most had been happiest protecting people. They hadn't stopped being warriors, not really, they'd just become warriors in a more concrete and practical cause. It appealed to him, actually. Protecting the weak was a task for the strongest warriors, and the Gundam pilots were certainly the strongest left alive.

He'd say yes when she asked, he decided. Why not?