Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ A Fighter's Spirit ❯ Veiled Hope ( Chapter 7 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, if that changes, you will be the first people to know. ^-^;;

Author's Note: Quanto a Dio! I'm so sorry for the looooooong wait! Blame school work, grounding, and bad luck in general (long story there) for the way delayed updates! I'm sooo sorry!

Chapter 7: Veiled Hope

Slowly, the suns settled beyond the horizon, wrenching the dusty land into obscurity. Darkness passed over the desolate plain, creeping along like a vast black shadow. Boulders and plateaus were silhouetted by the incandescent light from the moon, forming indistinct shapes against the grainy surface of the planet. Crickets chirped softly, their irksome yet calming lullaby filling the arid night air of the barren tract.

Atop one of those elevated plains, sat a lone creature; a seemingly broken man. The pale moon like shone down from the heavens upon him, a kind glow engulfing his body. Downtrodden was his manner, as if mourning for an unseen entity, or remembering something from a former life.

"I can remember," came his now weathered voice, speaking to the very night itself, "everything."

A low howl of the wind was his only reply. Its mournful cry sent a tremor coursing through his entire being, traveling through every inch of his battered and beaten body.

With a heart-wrenching sigh, he turned his grieving eyes upon his right arm. It rest casually upon his knee, several crimson streaked bandages bound tightly around it. The off-white cloth was frayed and tattered, as though having survived a thousand bitter winters. A single, loose thread hung from its intricate woven surface, swaying lifelessly in the dry desert wind.

Again the man looked away. His normally vibrant eyes were sullen, dark circles having formed beneath them. It was true; the Stampede hadn't slept in days; not since that woe-be-gone day. Memories and a strong feeling of bereavement swept over him.

~*~

Reminiscence.

Words were no longer needed in that brief moment, perhaps simply because there isn't much one can say to a man whose brother attempted to murder him.

Tira sat still, ever poised upon the edge of this very man's bed. However, her gaze was not on his face; nor was it on Vash in general; her eyes were focused on the floor.

Several minutes of awkward silence passed; each second feeling like a minute, every minute feeling like an hour. Finally it seemed; Vash's voice had returned to him.

"It's funny," he began, a smile faintly tugging at the corners of his lips.

"How is it in any way funny?" Tira questioned, at last daring to look him in his eyes.

The Humanoid Typhoon placed a hand to his chin, looking thoughtful. "More ironic, really," he corrected.

Tira, visibly confused, raised an eyebrow at the lean gunman. "Would you care to tell me what you could find so amusing after realizing you were nearly killed?"

"That's just it," he replied, giving into his steadily growing smile. "I realize I should probably be worrying about the situation at hand, but there is something else currently occupying my mind."

He paused for a moment, as though contemplating what he planned to say. "You," he answered finally.

~*~

Vash smiled at that memory; the first smile he'd worn in days. It looked almost unnatural on his morose features. The deadened look in his pale aquamarine eyes seemed to flicker, and fade, though, if only just a little. He almost felt like his old self again; that flamboyant and carefree character he so vaguely remembered, instead of the fallen man he had become.

A bit of colour seemed to return to his ashen face, his eyes once again possessing that warm, caring glow. And he laughed.

He actually laughed!

The sound rang out in the rolling plain, shattering the irrational tranquility of the night. It seemed to reach the heavens themselves, so loud and crisp, the angels could hear.

Angels.

The laugh died away, becoming a mere chuckle in the lone man's throat, a dull rumble of reverberating joyous sounds. As the laugh diminished, his smile did as well.

Angels…

He gradually brought his eyes to meet the endless black expanse above him, extending up into the heavens. In the corners of those benevolent eyes, lingered silvery tears; shimmering liquid crystals of realized sorrow. The stung the man's eyes as they silently rolled down his cheeks. Is that what they had become? Celestial creatures of heavenly grace, looking down on him and this forsaken land?

A soft, muffled whimper managed to escape Vash's dry lips.

"I killed them," he muttered, then, shouting into the night for all of the world to hear; "I killed them!"

His mind began to regress, images of the recent past blaring in his eyes; shrill screams echoing in his tormented mind. He crumbled; both emotionally and physically, collapsing to the ground.

Hysterical sobs broke free, filling the world with his shrieks of pain and guilt.

"Please! Make them stop!" he cried, cradling his head between his rough and weather-beaten hands. "MAKE IT STOP!"

The memories continued on, ignoring his desperate pleas for mercy; a seemingly endless cycle of burning turmoil, each becoming more real than the last.

~*~

"Run Tira!" Vash shouted, a look of uncontrollable fear filling his eyes.

Before him stood an enraged Knives, his black revolver clutched tightly in his right hand. A cold, drawn smirk was upon his dour face, his pale blue eyes flickering in malicious delight.

"Run," Vash hollered again, doing his best to usher Tira out of the room. "Get away from here!"

Knives let out a maniacal laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You just don't get it do you Vash?" he asked, his smirk growing ever more sinister. "I guess I'll just have to show it to you then, brother."

At these last words, Knives raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. The top of Vash's revolver shot off, ricocheting off the wall and falling to the floor. Inside, a spinning action began, encircling the gun and a portion of the Stampede's arm in a ball of electrifying light.

Pain; white hot pain consumed Vash, his right arm beginning to contort and conform into something new. It became elongated; coming to a flattened point at the end. Where his shoulder should have been, sprouted a mass of long, white feathers; similar to those of a giant bird.

Letting out numerous yelps of pain, Vash attempted to aim the massive weapon; his `Angel Arm', at the aforementioned foe. Small spheres of light had begun to form at the enormous barrel of the arm, re-arranging themselves to create an immense beam of concentrated light.

With a final, deafening yell of anguish, the colossal energy erupted from the Humanoid Typhoon's severely mutated and deformed arm.

The now sky blue beam of destructive light shot up, splintering the roof; sending debris hurtling in all directions.

Repeat Apocalypse.

~*~

The blonde gunman's relentless sobs eventually faded to a faint choking sound. He lay on the infertile ground, his fist balled up rigidly in his fit of hysterics.

His shimmering eyes traveled to his right arm; the very same arm that had betrayed him twice before. His eyes narrowed to malevolent slits at the sight of the God-forsaken limb.

With a swift and hasty action, the bandages lay in a crumbled heap on the ground, his accursed arm exposed to the world. The man examined the arm, a look of intense hatred lingering in his eyes.

Cold sweat glistened on his slightly miscoloured arm, giving his skin a rubbery appearance. Long, jagged scars were embedded deep in his clammy flesh, dried blood caking about the edges. New scars were clearly distinguishable from the old; the recent having taken on a slight green tinge.

Vash let out a frustrated cry, before hoisting himself sluggishly to his feet. He wearily trudged toward the verge of the plateau, and towards several small mounds at the base of the uprising. His feet screamed out in protest with every laboured step he took. Without even the slightest hesitation, he stepped off of the edge of the ridge, haphazardly skidding down towards the gravel-strewn ground.

With a less than graceful landing, the stampede lay on the rough, rocky soil. Wincing heavily, his body battered and bruised, he hauled himself in front of the mounds, then, fell to his knees.

For a time he sat in solemn silence, trapped in a pestilential prison, with seemingly no escape. The sorrow filled man stared into the oblivion, his ancient yet timeless face softening.

Graves.

"Knives; brother," Vash muttered, his hand resting atop the first miniature hill. "I-I never meant for any of this to h-happen, Knives."

The distant howl of a coyote could be heard in the distance, growing in volume with every second it perpetuated.

"G-good-bye, brother."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he shifted his attention to the second grave. A number of pearly tears streaked his face as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

"My s-sweet Tira," he choked out, not bothering to wipe the tears from his grieving eyes. "Please f-forgive me for t-the hurt I've p-put you through. I've failed t-to p-protect you, and for t-that, I do n-not ask for a second chance. I d-don't deserve it. R-rest in peace, and m-maybe we'll s-see each other again; even if only in our d-dreams."

The torn man chocked back muffled sobs as he stared blankly at the third; and final grave. However, this one was different from the others; somehow hallow.

In place of a body, there was simply a vermilion coat inside; frayed and slashed into shreds. Pieces of it were melted and remolded into new, disfigured bits. The steely black buttons were missing, most likely lost the night the lives of the people he cared most about.

Though, this coat was here for a reason. Buried along with this dejected outfit; this man's traveling coat he'd wore all so often, were all of Vash the Stampede's remaining hopes, and his veiled dreams.

>>>

;~; I was seriously crying when I wrote out this chapter. It being the last one and all, I couldn't help but get a bit emotional. Yes, this IS the last chapter, I'm almost sorry to say.

I hope that you enjoyed the story as much as I did and leave me lavish reviews to let me know what you thought of this. I'm not sure whether or not I have the whole angst thing down yet, but I'm working on it. Thank you for reading `A Fighter's Spirit'.

Kawaii Youko ^_~