Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Tears of Heaven ❯ Chapter 1
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Silver Star 
Everyone have an important purpose in their lives, but is Duo's purpose in the war worth it?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 08.29.2001 | Pages: 2 | Words: 840 | Visits: 604 | Status: Completed
Everyone have an important purpose in their lives, but is Duo's purpose in the war worth it?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 08.29.2001 | Pages: 2 | Words: 840 | Visits: 604 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me, however, the story does, so please
don't take it without my permission. I am not making any money off of this story, so
please don't sue me. I'm broke, anyway! ^_^
Tears of Heaven
By: Silver Star
I jumped out of the cockpit of my gundam with a heavy sigh, landing lightly on my
feet. My last mission was a big one, considering I'm doing it by myself instead of with a
partner. Killing that particular OZ leader wasn't easy, with all those guards, not to
mention all the Leo troops that was stationed at that base, but I did it nonetheless.
Because that leader was such an important one, the base was in an uproar. I
chuckled slightly. Obviously, they did not expect all the protection to fail, because all the
officers that were under that leader were running around in chaos, not knowing what to
do. Apparently, they were given the orders that they were to obey him, and only him, so
now that he's dead, they were completely lost.
Perfect. Mission accomplished.
I quickly made sure that my gundam is camouflaged, and then started to the
cabin that is my current safe house. I smiled tiredly as I walked along the bank of the
lake, following the path that would let me to the small log cabin.
I paused at the edge of the calm water and stared at my own reflection for a long
moment. The water not only reflected me, but also the overcast sky above me.
Suddenly, a drop of moisture broke the serenity of the lake, breaking up the
image of me. I looked up as more and more drops of water fell from the sky.
Rain.
I held out my right hand, feeling the cold drops gathering within the palm of my
hand. The freezing cold water pelted down on me, soaking through my black clothing,
but I did not move.
People say rain is the tear of heaven. When the heaven cries, its tears came
down and clean the earth below it.
But I don't feel clean. I stared at the hand that was stretched in front of me. The
water gathered in it suddenly turned to blood, blood that I had spilled for a lost cause, for
a war that was lost before it had begun, for a peace that was nothing but an illusion.
To many people, rain is the tear of heaven, the salvation of humanity. But to me,
rain is not tears, but the spilled blood of heaven, of all the people that I had killed, of all
the people that died in this endless war.
The rain continued to fell, but they are no longer cold. No, they're not cold,
they're warm, like the blood that flowed through me, or the blood that was so carelessly
spilled upon the battlefield.
This war is pointless, and endless. So many people died. Innocent bystanders,
trained soldiers, kind mothers, their children, college students, and even cold-hearted
street rats. So many people sacrificed their lives for...for what? For peace? No,
definitely not for peace. Street rats live to bring chaos, to steal and to survive by any
means. Soldiers are trained to kill, to obey orders without hesitation, and to destroy
anyone in their way.
The war is like an endless waltz. All kinds of people were dancing the dance of
death. Old soldiers die, and new soldiers were born. Round and round, the dance goes
on, never ending, never stopping, never letting the participants a chance to rest, never
letting then live long enough to taste the wonderful taste of love, or even letting them
know what love is. The dance is deadly, one wrong move; one wrong step and you
could be dead before you were even born.
I suddenly snatched my hand back, as if been burned, and then shivered as the
cold finally got to me. I shook my head, trying to get my bangs away from my face, but
they plastered to my forehead like second skin. I reached behind me and patted the
heavy mass of soaked silk that was my hair and smiled slightly.
Heero says I should cut it, that it could hinder me, or kill me in a mission. But I
can't. It's important, so very important to me. People say I'm vain, perhaps I am, but my
hair does more than just to enhance my looks. They are a reminder, something that
held so many memories of my past, both good and bad times. And each of the strands
represented a life that I had took in this endless war, a reminder of what I am and what I
had done.
But they don't make me sad. No, they don't make me sad, they makes me
happy. Why? Because, if those people who died cannot live their life, then I shall live it
for them.
And perhaps then, I could finally redeem myself.
~*Owari*~
Please send all comments to bailuli@hotmail.com
don't take it without my permission. I am not making any money off of this story, so
please don't sue me. I'm broke, anyway! ^_^
Tears of Heaven
By: Silver Star
I jumped out of the cockpit of my gundam with a heavy sigh, landing lightly on my
feet. My last mission was a big one, considering I'm doing it by myself instead of with a
partner. Killing that particular OZ leader wasn't easy, with all those guards, not to
mention all the Leo troops that was stationed at that base, but I did it nonetheless.
Because that leader was such an important one, the base was in an uproar. I
chuckled slightly. Obviously, they did not expect all the protection to fail, because all the
officers that were under that leader were running around in chaos, not knowing what to
do. Apparently, they were given the orders that they were to obey him, and only him, so
now that he's dead, they were completely lost.
Perfect. Mission accomplished.
I quickly made sure that my gundam is camouflaged, and then started to the
cabin that is my current safe house. I smiled tiredly as I walked along the bank of the
lake, following the path that would let me to the small log cabin.
I paused at the edge of the calm water and stared at my own reflection for a long
moment. The water not only reflected me, but also the overcast sky above me.
Suddenly, a drop of moisture broke the serenity of the lake, breaking up the
image of me. I looked up as more and more drops of water fell from the sky.
Rain.
I held out my right hand, feeling the cold drops gathering within the palm of my
hand. The freezing cold water pelted down on me, soaking through my black clothing,
but I did not move.
People say rain is the tear of heaven. When the heaven cries, its tears came
down and clean the earth below it.
But I don't feel clean. I stared at the hand that was stretched in front of me. The
water gathered in it suddenly turned to blood, blood that I had spilled for a lost cause, for
a war that was lost before it had begun, for a peace that was nothing but an illusion.
To many people, rain is the tear of heaven, the salvation of humanity. But to me,
rain is not tears, but the spilled blood of heaven, of all the people that I had killed, of all
the people that died in this endless war.
The rain continued to fell, but they are no longer cold. No, they're not cold,
they're warm, like the blood that flowed through me, or the blood that was so carelessly
spilled upon the battlefield.
This war is pointless, and endless. So many people died. Innocent bystanders,
trained soldiers, kind mothers, their children, college students, and even cold-hearted
street rats. So many people sacrificed their lives for...for what? For peace? No,
definitely not for peace. Street rats live to bring chaos, to steal and to survive by any
means. Soldiers are trained to kill, to obey orders without hesitation, and to destroy
anyone in their way.
The war is like an endless waltz. All kinds of people were dancing the dance of
death. Old soldiers die, and new soldiers were born. Round and round, the dance goes
on, never ending, never stopping, never letting the participants a chance to rest, never
letting then live long enough to taste the wonderful taste of love, or even letting them
know what love is. The dance is deadly, one wrong move; one wrong step and you
could be dead before you were even born.
I suddenly snatched my hand back, as if been burned, and then shivered as the
cold finally got to me. I shook my head, trying to get my bangs away from my face, but
they plastered to my forehead like second skin. I reached behind me and patted the
heavy mass of soaked silk that was my hair and smiled slightly.
Heero says I should cut it, that it could hinder me, or kill me in a mission. But I
can't. It's important, so very important to me. People say I'm vain, perhaps I am, but my
hair does more than just to enhance my looks. They are a reminder, something that
held so many memories of my past, both good and bad times. And each of the strands
represented a life that I had took in this endless war, a reminder of what I am and what I
had done.
But they don't make me sad. No, they don't make me sad, they makes me
happy. Why? Because, if those people who died cannot live their life, then I shall live it
for them.
And perhaps then, I could finally redeem myself.
~*Owari*~
Please send all comments to bailuli@hotmail.com