Kagaku Ninja-Tai Gatchaman Fan Fiction ❯ Winter Wishing - An Instropection from Ken's POV ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer : Regular disclaimers apply. None of the birdies are mine.

*****

Sleighbells rings, Are you List'ning?

In the lane, Snow is glist'ning..

A Beautiful Sight

We're happy tonight.

Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland

Gone away is the bluebird

Here to stay is the new bird

He sings a love song

As we go along

Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland

In the meadow we can build a snowman

Then pretend that he is Parson Brown

He'll say, "Are you married?"

We'll say, "No, man!

But you can do the job when you're in town."

*****

Under the command of Jun, my third but the only woman on the team, I walk over to the door and flip the `Open' sign over. Well, why am I listening to her? Shrugs. She is a woman and I am a man, so listening and following her command is a natural thing to do, ni?

Christmas music is dripping and overflowing from the jukebox, filling the J with an unwanted sappiness and mushiness. Christmas, a time when lovers hold hands and stroll leisurely across snow-covered lanes, exchange tenderly chosen gifts under sparkling Christmas trees and snuggle up contently in front of the fireplace with a heartwarming plate of cookies and sharing a mug of eggnog.

I smirk.

But for us, what is it? We have spent the last two Christmases fighting Galactors. Most likely we'll spend the coming one in a similar way. Though, don't we all like to be able to forget who we are for the moment and just indulge ourselves in the Holiday Seasons and do what that song sings about? Building snowman with the one we love?

I shift my eyes over to the half-finished Christmas tree in the corner of the bar and those under it.

Jun is busily setting it up with the rest of the team.

I lean against the door, watching her for a brief while, indulging in the rare peaceful moment, which I can freely admire her. Admire her without the risk of her noticing it.

She is on her knees sorting out the decorations. Her long dark hair curls up oh so sensuously, framing her small but perfectly oval face and bouncing at her every movement. Every darn time that I look at her, I have this feeling that I just want to thread my fingers through her silky mane, ever so gently and lovingly.

Her eyes sparkle like early morning dew on a trembling leaf, her merry laughter soft and airy like the ringing of silver bells, her face, fresh as snow and her lips, the most delicate petals of a rose bud on it.

A deep inhale of that imaginary fragrance of jasmine, her perfume.

Many a night have I dreamt of taking that small tilting chin in my hand and tasting those divine rosy lips, kissing her with all the passion I can mutter up.

Many a night have I laid awake in bed, tossing and turning, my mind overwhelming with thoughts of those soft feminine curves, which her civilian uniform so desperately tries to conceal and yet fails so utterly in the same attempt.

She shifts, her head turning this way. I turn towards the window, pretending to be looking outside at the snow, inhaling deeply, trying to calm my pounding heart.

She is my third in command. Damn it.

She is also a marvelous and intelligent woman, a beautiful soul, gentle and idealistic. And she is pillar of the team. She might be the weakest in the team physically. Yet, she is the strongest emotionally. Whilst Joe and I are impetuous, she is always stable and cautious. Her expertise in navigation, explosives and field medicine is indispensable. Without her, the team would fall apart. Without her, my world would fall apart.

Does she know how hard it is for me to keep my eyes off those gorgeous shimmering emeralds of hers at every debriefing? How difficult it is to remain focused during battle, especially during her roundhouse kicks, in which her dainty little pink skirts floats up around her hip? Many a time have I wondered with Joe, whether Hakase lost his mind when he approved that design of the Swan's bird-style. We, after all, are young male in our prime. Was he really so naïve? Or was he just trying to test our self-control?

She has her eyes on my back now. I can feel it, the heat in her gaze. The longing. The wistful sigh.

Yes, I know it. I know it very well that she is as interested in me as I am in her. And I know perfectly well what an ass I am in ignoring her and pretending to be oblivious to all her attention all these time. But does she know how my heart breaks every time I have to do that and see her disappointed look when I look away? How it hurts to see her in danger in every mission? How helpless I feel whenever she is captured and how I bad I feel when I have to give the orders that could exactly have cost her life, the most precious thing in my own?

She has shift her glance away now and is quietly hiding that unsigned box of hand-made chocolate truffles under the tree for me, as she has been doing it for the past few years, hoping each year that I would "guess" correctly whom it is from.

Sigh.

I am the Gatchaman. And she is my third. The safety of the whole damn world rests on our shoulders. Do I really dare to get any closer to her than I already am?

For us, to be alive is a privilege. To love and be loved, is probably a luxury that we can only dream of.