Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Shinigami, My Hamburger ❯ It's the Thoughtlessness that Counts ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5

It's the Thoughtlessness that Counts

Just before night fell, the overcast skies parted to allow the sun and the glowing red-orange light it brought to shine through. Any threats of rain disappeared with it and the eerie mist that had once hung through the trees faded as well. That brings us to the singular silhouette walking along the open stretch of road. Heero Yuy had just left the inky forest behind for a lonesome expanse of open gravel road. Where the ancient pine trees and withering elms gave it way to endlessly uninhabited grassland and scattered groves, the orange glow spreading out as the sun drifted lower.

All traces of the adequately spooked television crew had disappeared in favor of civilization, taking a very frightening and unbelievable secret with them. They'd been visited by Death-and they'd been lucky enough to survive and avoid wedlock.

Heero still couldn't understand how or why he'd been chosen for something so ridiculous, something so unorthodox! As far as he knew, Gods didn't just marry mortals, at least not in modern days anymore when few still kept their faith unconditionally. It was unthinkable, unheard of, plucking mortals out of their lives to set up a troublesome Angel. He shouldered his backpack irritably and kept his steady walking pace along the shoulder of the gravel road even though he had this tugging sensation that drew him inexplicably back toward the trees in the back of his mind.

As he walked, his dark blue eyes were glazed with thought and didn't notice the tiny red string looped around his right pinkie finger, shining vibrantly in the presence of the sunset.

Blood red and divinely unbreakable, the string stretched without losing an ounce of its tautness. It glimmered brightly in the dying light, and remained invisible to naked mortal eye otherwise. The ribbon extended back into the woods, weaving precariously through multiple gnarled branches without a hint of earthly tangling. It remained pristinely linear and wound through the forest until it found the corresponding right pinkie of one black-winged Angel of Death, trudging cautiously through the decaying leaves underfoot.

The Thirteenth Son of Shinigami spun his head again at a rustle, eyes fearfully wide. An array of leaves still tangled in his hair and his knees and arms were filthy from loosing his balance on the unfamiliar Earth terran more than once. Dark streaks of mud marred his face as well. By now, he had managed to settle down some-he'd learned quickly that not all rustles meant a Hisa-me [1] was prowling behind him, waiting to pounce and thrash him for their sadistic pleasure. But the bloodshot veins were still visible in the corner of his eyes as he turned around again and rubbed his face on his wrist. He kept wandering aimlessly into the woods.

Shini put his hand on a tree trunk and shrieked shortly afterwards as he felt something creep across the back of it and ripped his hand away and clutched it to his chest. The frightening itch continued and he fearfully saw tiny black things crawling over his hand. Unaware that they were harmless ants, Shini yelped in surprise and began wildly shaking his hand. He slapped at them until the unfamiliar black creatures disappeared. The Shinigami's black robes dragged nosily through the leaves as he began to run again.

He ran while dry bracken clawed his arms and torso, tugging at the black silk swathed around his waist and dragging across the mossy earth. Finally, he grew tired and wheezed in this Earth air that was awfully thin and cold compared to the heat and humidity that spread through all of Underworld. Shini's legs ached as he slowed and leaned against a tiny sapling of a tree in his exhaustion and fell over when it snapped under his weight. He tumbled to the ground with a loud thud and half-muffled whine so that his legs flew into the air and he generously tasted the dirt.

Off in the misty distance, a few long-legged deer sprung away from the sound of the Angel of Death toppling to the ground.

He sat up again and spit out the twig in his mouth. A shudder of black followed and Shini's wings shook themselves free of the itchy scraps of moss and leaves. However, that couldn't shake the increasingly distressed expression on the deity's face as he staggered back up with no other option than to wander the woods as his emotions built and built. His eyes stung, but he doggedly wiped them before they filled with tears. Shini trudged aimlessly forward and sniffled as he reached the base of an ancient oak tree.

Musty, warm water splashed underfoot as he stepped in a mud puddle and stopped before the ghostly white tree, titling his head back so that he could stare upward at the dead branches. Death was something he was familiar with-it pulsed in his veins. He could tell, by sniffing once or twice, that this tree had been hollowed out by a lucky strike of lightning, singing it and leaving it blackened to die slowly.

Shini noticed that the sky had darkened overhead with a displeased pout of his lips. Glaring at the sky as if it were some stubborn playmate being uncooperative to spite him, the God of Death slowly realized that sunlight was warming the side of his face and twisted to look into it. The sun was setting in a golden red blaze, and down with it, it dragged the Shinigami's heart.

He hated being alone in the dark.

Nervously chewing his lip as the familiar hot sting in his eye returned, Shini flickered a look back at the hollowed tree-it's gangly fingers twisting up into the sky-and began to climb. It started with a tentative hand on the rough grain of the tree's old twisted bark, and continued until Shini had carefully scaled up into the top branches, his legs aching and panting steadily. The sharp, dead branches held no give and bit at his wings as they brushed, so he kept them as tight to his shoulders as he could.

The glow of sunset eventually evened out into flat blackness. Clouds crept in and swallowed all traces of starlight. The moon glowed dully behind the heavenly curtain, unsuccessful to shine through.

Shini found a suitable perch and quickly clamored up there. Beyond the canopy there was only a few feet of trunk before the tree turned jagged and black from where it had taken the blunt of the lightning strike. Just below it, there was one major branch protruding out before the weaker portion splintered off and hung by a few fibers. The Angel of Death sniffled weakly and cuffed at his nose as he curled against the trunk and shielded himself from the alien creatures and unfamiliar night of Earth with his wings.

Meanwhile, Heero paced on, his sneakers striking the lonesome expanse of blacktop roadway with clipped thudding sounds. He barely registered the action of walking-his mind was absorbed in a general malaise that refused to think of anything. It was like sleepwalking with the awareness of the waking dead. He had thought of the Shinigami wandering through the forest once, but afterward his thoughts had faded out. After a few hours of walking in the dark, straining to see the guiding white line on the side of the road, he came over a rolling hill to see distant traces of lights below.

The Japanese man blinked once, slowly becoming aware that he was drained and hungry as well. He re-shouldered the weight of his backpack and expelled the air in his lungs in a sigh. After stopping at the apex of the hill, he grudgingly began walking again towards the city. Luckily, he could see a far off light gleam down onto a stretch of railroad tracks.

The red string gleamed, tugged at him once, and Heero swatted at his hand, absently mistaking it for some night insect biting him.

Shini, discouraged, let the string slip back into its normal taut state after he didn't feel like playing with it uselessly. He was beginning to sob again anyway and his vision was blurring rapidly. He hiccuped violently in a futile attempt to suck it up, and thought what was the use of not crying? He'd hurt Teishu [2], his Bishounen-just like he'd hurt everyone else! Just like how he'd hurt his best friend and he had gone to sleep forever all red and sticky. Shini slammed his nose between his knees and brought his arms tight around his legs.

Why did he always do that? Hurt them? Scare them?

He cried, as if that could bring him the answers.

The black-winged Angel of Death whimpered for a long time into the night until his voice grew ragged and he simply sniffled and let his tears fall silently instead. The moon hung high in the sky behind the thick clouds as the night wore on, and wore on the Shinigami. Eventually Shini shed all of his humanoid tears and still found the wretched ache in his head still yearning to cry, and unknowingly, his tears came out as Darkness.

Like oil, these black liquid tears slid easily down his face and dripped down toward the ground. A thick dark power swirled within them and slowly, they began to pool at the bottom of the tree. They crawled down the tree bark almost as if they had a life of their own. A dim sizzling noise followed as the collective tears filled a small acidic puddle, hissing and chewing through the earth in a swirling black pool. It hissed and spat and slowly began to still, unnaturally.

Shini sobbed himself to sleep, unaware, and Heero Yuy passed the first streetlamp at the furthest part of town.

And from that sizzling pool of Darkness, a slithering black figure slid out from the murky depth, the only sound being the crackling of the acid splashing and Shini's distant dreaming whines. A shapeless, heartless shadow of Darkness, it began gliding toward the glowing lights of town.

===

"One coach to San Francisco." Grimy fingers hastily shoved the appropriate currency beneath the glass pane.

"Alright," the graveyard-shift worker drawled to himself, quickly pulling one out and sliding it out in exchange before glancing down at the bills. "That'll be-"

"It's there," Heero growled. "I counted it out."

The middle-aged man considered his tone briefly for tones of danger and when he glanced up, Heero's stressed expression and frown spelled out he was simply impatient and rather drained. He shrugged and began flipping through the bills and whispering under his breath. "Okay, it's all here," he affirmed, while the drone of a radio baseball announcer went on somewhere in the background. There were posters plastered to the wall, tacked next to bulletins and memos, Heero noticed uselessly as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket and took the ticket.

"You'll have to wait until morning," the worker said, pointing to a schedule and jabbing it. There was a midnight train scheduled, he explained, but there were a few mechanics working some engine trouble down the line. Heero looked drably over his shoulder and frowned at the sight of the train, parked on the first track as a few men in greasy jumpsuits worked with lights flickering in their helmets.

"Sorry, but it shouldn't be ready until morning. There's another run for San Fran tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock, sir. We all apologize for the inconvenience."

"Thanks," Heero grunted insincerely as he began to walk away.

"There's a motel in town, if you need a place to stay!" he called out once the unfamiliar, grimacing Asian man stalked out of his sight.

"No thanks," Heero responded minimistically. He dropped his backpack with a thud in the darkness, just beyond the light of the ticket window. It landed at the wrought iron foot of the bench he had selected to be his bed for the night, and Heero Yuy laid down in exhaustion and necessity. He slid his head onto his palm for a pillow and let his feet hang into the air at the other end. As he easily fell unconscious to the random clanking and clattering of mechanics nursing an ailing train, silent killer entered town, leaving a slime trail of Darkness that sizzled and disappeared as it slunk past the most distant streetlamp in town.

===

Persephone twiddled uselessly with one of her vibrant magenta ear tails, watching her distantly and adding to the multiple distractions that Iria had to deal with. She was lying flat out in the face of Dis, of Hades, of the Lord of the Underworld, and surely one of her lungs would explode in her chest if here kimono didn't stop choking her, for crying out loud-and now she couldn't shake off the itchy sensation of this unwilling wife staring blankly at her as she spoke. The situation left something to be desired. Dying not to grind her teeth as nervous habit yearned to, Iria gently refolded her hands in front of her and glanced back to the bluish, chiseled-stoic face of Hades as she continued.

"I assure you that the Thirteenth Son of Shinigami is well-adjusted to his new environment and is very content with his new surroundings," she said, finishing her opening statement. That was only after weaving an agonizingly long white lie to cover her ass for the fact that her son was constantly bawling and no doubt having some sort of quarrel with his unemotional bastard of a husband. She could practically smell the havoc brewing above ground.

Hades nodded quietly, grunting in acceptance of her speech then nodded towards one of his ghastly servants. The emaciated troll-like creature padded obediently over to the hovering stone pillar where the Amendment Called Forever remained regally, tied with a brilliant silver ribbon for aesthetic touch. The creature fluttered up with the gaunt wings of bone protruding from his shoulder blades, took the parchment, and fluttered back down to Hades' left. Persephone sat on his right in an identical stone throne, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Iria automatically stiffened as he unrolled the parchment with his Deathly hands, unimaginable Darkness seeping out from his dark blue skin as if it were dust clouding from his ancient joints. His eyes rolled across the Latin text and his booming low voice startled her slightly. "And this bond was approved by Bakka-o, I presume."

"Yes," the Goddess of Love answered politely.

"And the candidate is... capable of handling such a troublesome demigod?"

Here she twisted back the urge to smile. For once, she didn't have to pull her answers out of thin air-she'd actually done her homework in this area. "I pried into his history and found that he had a strongly militaristic bloodline that links back to a prominent line of samurai sprouting from the original Kamikaze. He also grew up at an Army Reserve base until both parents died tragically in a violent insurrection and he forged his own existence. More than capable, physically."

Those lifeless beady, dark eyes lifted up to examine her face. "What were their names?"

His sudden question spooked Iria out of a line of thought. "I'm sorry, excuse me?"

"The names of this candidate's parents. What were they?"

"Odin Lowe and Yumi Yuy," Iria stated, though the nervous flutter of her heart still wouldn't calm after hearing that strongly imposing voice. Luckily, she steadied her composure with her sweet tone of voice as she continued, more confidently. "Never married, but both nurtured the boy to grow strong."

A wicked grin erased the stony expression and his Deathly eyes twinkled, almost. "Ah yes, those two. One of my favorite works, I would have to say," he rumbled happily.

The pleasure with which he recalled the manner of killing her son-in-law's parents didn't seem as amusing to Iria, and she frowned slightly, though her pouting red-lipstick disguised it.

"And emotionally-will he be able to nurture this son of yours, as well?"

Iria's smile instantly returned in a frozen panic. "Yes, I'm sure," she gritted out sweetly, trying her best to be pretty and convincing simultaneously in the face of a entity that could reduce her to smoldering ashes over the courses of many painful centuries if he displeased in her in anyway. Luckily, good fortune seemed to smile upon her for a minute-while it toyed mercilessly with her son-and the God of the Underworld seemed pleased when he pursed his lips and grunted affirmatively.

Still reading from the enchanted parchment, Hades hummed satisfactorily to himself. "Heero Yuy, huh?"

Iria nodded politely and nervously glanced over at the pink-haired wife at his side. She was still staring blankly.

"Have they met yet?"

"Yes, my Lord," the Goddess of Love said.

"And the Thirteenth Son of Shinigami likes him?"

"Unhealthily so, my Lord," she said with a forced chuckle.

That wicked semblance of a smile returned again. For an instant, she feared in the pit of her chest that he would inquire of how they were getting along and feared how she could cover it up without lying to badly. She had a sinking suspicion that he would smell her fear, uncover the current tattered state of Shinigami's marriage, and simply destroy him to be rid of the nuisance, if she grew too nervous. But the words that escaped his lips were sounded sweeter than a Death Row pardon.

"So I'm rid of him, then? No more eyeballs in my dinner?" He roared at his rough joke, referring to the time he'd discovered the waywardly and mischievous Shinigami dropping demon eyes in his ambrosia, and Iria conjured a giggly sound to follow, though her nervousness still choked her. The listless Persephone, however, rolled her shining green eyes and ignored her husband's guffaws.

The God of the Underworld smirked at her, and she could have sworn he glowered happily-as if he knew something she didn't. "You may leave, Aphrodite."

Iria bowed graciously. "I thank you for your time, Hades."

===

"Bad?" the dress-sprite drawled lifelessly, trying to be supportive in it's stone voice. The translucent violet wings accented the gothic black and purple array and makeup as they whirred violently to keep up with Iria's irritated speed and Angelic wingspread of eight feet. Great updrafts whirled up at the tiny violet dress-sprite from her white wings and she buckled in the air precariously, waiting to assist the Goddess of Love with her troublesome pink and red kimono. However, Iria was so upset that all whims of decency or ladylike tact had stripped away, along with the corset she had groused about breathlessly.

"Malicious thing!" she cursed as she ripped it off and carelessly tossed it to the wind as she flapped along. The dress-sprite dove sharply to catch the priceless silk sash and flutter back up to Iria's side. She stripped as she flew.

"Damn it, that was too close! One more minute and I'd probably be ready to pull out of the oven by now," the blonde deity grumbled unhappily. "Oh, yes, Heero Yuy's going to get a piece of my mind when I get a hold of his scrawny ass." The frustration perverted into a sense of corruption as she grinned and the dull roar of an airplane whirred below them. "He's going to regret ever stressing me out! Ever double crossing my son! Ever making that little nasty pout face at me so insolently!"

"You tell him, Ma'am," it chorused in monotone.

They were gliding miles above the bustling, polluted surface of Earth, skimming their toes and wingtips through clouds on all sides. Above them a few more miles they would stumble upon Heaven's domain. That was reserved, however for Gods and Goddesses not associated with Hades and the Underworld, filled with its assorted Fallen Angels and demons.

Iria was located snugly between each of the realms-a cocktail or three with red men with pronged pitchforks on Tuesdays and Tupperware parties with those pudgy cherubs on Thursdays who so did enjoy their reheated left-overs. She was in a position of absolute freedom as far as she was concerned. God could wave his cane at her disapprovingly, but it didn't stop her from frolicking with the sinners when she sought a good time. Her Valentine Realm was awfully close now that she thought about it, and filled her wings with air to cushion her abrupt halt.

The violet dress-sprite followed her intently, regally folding the sash and waiting as Iria began discarding the rest of the pastel kimono.

"Can you believe it? I give this pathetic moping mortal-who had no family or loved ones, if you remember-the most beautiful, loving, powerful creature in all of Hell and he refuses without even spending so much as a day with the poor thing!" Iria groused. Her long fingers curled around the kimono and unwrapped it from her shoulders and passed it to the dress-sprite.

"What an ingrate," it monotoned in its gravel-tone.

"Exactly!" the Goddess of Love exclaimed as she simultaneously unleashed her long blonde hair, tossing it in the air to loosen it. She teased the air slightly with her long fingers and summoned a white silk robe from the nearest misty clouds and wrapped it around her, flipping out the collar.

"And he's my son, no less, and he has the nerve to try and defy me-to hurt my son! He should be licking my feet for what I gave him. Shini could change his life if he didn't prejudge him and hate him simply because he was born of the darkest, deepest, most fiery pit of Hell! Shini is a sugar cube! He wouldn't want to hurt a fly!" She tilted her head as she summoned and effortlessly applied her scarlet red makeup while shrugging on the robe to cover her lingerie. "It breaks his heart that he can't always control his powers and ends up frightening all his friends off."

She paused and looked deeply at the golden lipstick tube. "Heero just doesn't understand that Shini has been just as lonesome as him, but for a millennium in Hell. Otherwise he'd know just how much Shini loves him already."

The dress-sprite blinked at her, soaking up the emotional words, then focused on something beyond her shoulder.

In the periwinkle blue texture of the sky was a jagged tear where a sweet looking blonde peered out, and Iria spun about and exclaimed at her secretary happily. The aroma of Valentine wafted through the gateway, tempting her of sweeter things. "Nadette, sugar!" The blonde goddess glided ecstatically over to her and smiled sweetly, flattening her crème-colored silk robes. "It seems like ages! I've had a horrific day so far, so how about going for a drink at our favorite bar? A beautiful relaxation! You know, that one lounge with-"

"I'm sorry, Iria, but I've just received a message for you," the green-eyed blonde spirit girl cooed apologetically, trying to find a smile that would soothe her superior's impending rage when she delivered the remained of the message. She'd overheard the outburst only moments before, unfortunately, and knew it would not please her in the least bit. "It was from a rather angry-sounding mortal."

Iria's face fell instantly and her sugary grace disappeared, as was to be expected.

The secretary continued carefully, "Heero Yuy called while you were out and asked that you call him back, as soon as possible."

Both the dress-sprite and the secretary Nadette flinched as the Goddess of Love stormed by her and dove into Valentine toward her office in a rage, ripping the jagged portal further with the powerful downstroke of her wings.

"That brat better not have lost him again! Incompetent whiner!" she shouted as her voice faded off into the distance, as irate as ever.

===

The pigeons scavenging for an early morning scrap scattered in a burst of feathers flapping on the air as one disheveled Heero Yuy sat up from the bench where he'd spent the night. Groggily, his vision blurred at first before he managed to blink the sleep out of them. Awful. He felt raggedly awful. His hair was greasy and tangled between his fingers and the sharp pangs of hunger just below his ribs gnawed at his stomach. And still, the singular image of the Shinigami grinning as warmly as he could with only one tooth visited him whenever his thoughts wandered.

With a morning-gravelly growl, he staggered up and swung his backpack onto his shoulder to trudge off in a random direction in search of a decent breakfast. He only needed something to tide him over until his train arrived.

It was the assorted shrieks that eventually drew the young Japanese man to the bustling swarm of pale-faced people drawn around the intersection in the shadow of a coffee shop. Ambulances and flashing police cars sectioned off the other roads, creating a square of bustling, screaming activity. Being of a short stature, Heero could only snatch glimpses over the shoulders of the men and women at the back of the crowd. Another frown marred his face and he brushed it off carelessly, too hassled to bother shoving through a mass of bodies just to see what the fuss was about. He could really care less.

What he couldn't see, as he walked off back the way he had come from, was the corpse sprawled in the limelight and the hole in his chest gnawed ragged that caused all the ado. That, and the corpse's heart was missing. Crimson blood collected and simmered in the sun, before siphoning eerily off through the holes in the sewer drain cover in the center of the road. Police officers rallied the stunned citizens to a safe distance, allowing the assorted medical crew went hard to work scratching their heads at the strange teeth marks in the wound. The sun seared on silently overhead, a glaringly uncooperative witness to the whole thing.

Heero Yuy agitatedly brushed his fingers through his thick, dark brown hair and strode off aimlessly, desperate for something to chew up his agonizingly long waiting time. Strolling through the dappled shade of the ash saplings withering in the choking summer heat, he glanced momentarily over his shoulder at the swarms of stunned citizens. As he squinted in the sun, his Prussian blue eyes momentarily seized on something slithering amongst the various sandal-clad feet. But his attention tore away-an effeminate sounding ringtone danced in his pocket as the pink Hermes cellphone rang.

"About time!" Heero said groggily, gritting his teeth as he clawed the obnoxious roseate-colored phone out of his pocket. With an angry flick of the wrist, he lifted it up to answer the call knowing very well who it would be. Simultaneously, the grievous wail of the ambulance once again bit the air and the Japanese man whirled his head around automatically. The red-and-white vehicle sped off past him, apparently in hot pursuit of another endangered life, it tires hissing violently on the blacktop as it cranked sharp right. He furrowed his brow tightly, while the fleet of police cars flocked closely behind like annoying, flashing apostles.

He shifted away from the road as the snarling voice of a Deity roared at him through the tiny speaker pits. "What, Yuy? What's with all this 'as soon as possible' shit? What did you do to him now?"

"Just a damned second, Iria-it's too noisy out here!" Heero growled impatiently already sparked by her galling, dynamically commanding voice. The incessant wailing of sirens and terrified shrieks annoyed him as well. Anything practically could-he was still bothered by the never-ending images of Shinigami haunting him and the eternally permanent wedlock he'd been tossed into. His fierce blue eyes hunted rapidly for a hopefully silent, secluded place and sniffed out a rather dull tavern.

Unknowingly, as he shoved the heavy wooden door open with his shoulder alone, the flickering black presence Heero had spotted moments before solidified into it's ominous shadowy state as it slithered onto the sidewalk. A dripping line of crimson glimmered on its raised hulk of a head as the blackness parted momentarily, revealing rows of serrated, demonically hungry teeth. This slithering, living pool of Darkness hissed venomously and leapt at Heero Yuy's heels. It bubbled like acid and hissed violently when it bit into the wooden door that swung close just behind the young Japanese man.

Then it dissipated into the same sinister mist and slithered away, undetectable by mortal vision, sniffing out fresh prey.

Inside, cigarette smoke reigned supreme, impregnating the stale air and swirling near the sputtering vent. Luckily only the moody-looking bartender was present, too consumed with her nicotine consumption and a trashy paperback romance novel to get involved with the murder audience outside in the broiling sun. This middle-aged bleached blonde nodded congenially to the stranger without lifting her eyes. She grunted something through her cancer stick about the tap going insane but Heero brushed by, intent for the bathrooms.

Iria's voice was computerized and pleasantly tiny as he held it in his palm, away from his ear, and shoved the men's room door open. It was expectedly grimy, but completely emptied-thanks to the commotion outside. Heero sighed generously with a tinge of bad humor before finally responding to the demigod's incessant snapping.

"About time you called me," Heero monotoned lowly, cutting the angry string of protests sweetly short.

"Forgive me, Arrogant Mortal, but I have serious matters to attend and I can't always baby-sit you! In fact, I was just risking my existence in front of Hades, the single most dangerous thing in all the pits of Hell, trying to convince him that you hadn't run my son out and possibly messed up this entire scheme!" Iria groused, equally irritated with this in-law as he was with her. In fact, their tempers were rather similar, fanning the flames all the more intensely.

"I don't care what you had planned, this is my life," he informed her curtly, managing to reign in his own resentments enough to sound relatively civilized in the face of all this godly chaos. " I don't care anymore. You deal with him-it. I'm quitting."

"What?" Iria snapped in retort immediately.

"I'm done." In the grimy, half-chipped mirror he glared at his fierce reflection, his own blue eyes sparking dully. "Dissolving the union, divorcing, whatever you care to call it. I'm not going to fucking deal with this anymore. I refuse."

"Oh, no, Heero Yuy-"

"Oh, I really think so. I tried to retrieve your son, but as soon as I tried to help him, he simply disappeared again." Strangely, he noted an alien flicker in his own expression. "Obviously he doesn't want anything to do with me."

A venomous growl warned him impatiently as the Goddess of Love struggled next to find the appropriate words. "Shini-he-he's got this complex."

"Oh, you failed to mention that. In that case, I'd be happy to take him back," he said, the emotionless sarcasm enough to physically sting.

"No, you insensitive brat-Shini has a killing complex," Iria stated firmly, her snarling red lips almost visible to the mortal as he listened. "He's deathly afraid of hurting anything or anyone. He can't always control his powers because they are so massive and they end up overwhelming him and either injuring or killing someone. Shini hides away from everyone if he thinks he's going to hurt them, that fool-he's probably terrified and alone somewhere!" The motherly tone seeped again, and Heero found it difficult to completely smother the tiny sound of regret in his heart. "He's already spent a night alone, no doubt sobbing and afraid!"

"Fine," Heero growled, surprising himself with how icy his voice could turn, "let him be alone if he refuses my help."

"That's a very bad idea, Heero Yuy. There's no telling what-"

"I said that I didn't care."

"Heero, please! He's probably so afraid out there-"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped finally, slamming his fist onto the porcelain sink as the frustration swelled in his chest. "How can a God of Death be afraid of anything?"

"When Shini gets hysterical, things won't be pretty," Iria warned instantly, her violent tone darkening to something more ominous.

"Then come get him yourself. He doesn't want anything to do with me, and neither do I!" Heero yelled finally. His palm flew up and slapped the pink cellphone shut, cutting off whatever protest Iria had begun. Before his voice could finish the angry echo, he was storming back out into the smoke, past the uninterested barkeep, and out into the blistering glare of the sun. And somewhere vaguely, he wondered why the frustration in his chest soured, turning half-nauseous. He wondered why he couldn't eradicate that image in his rage, that image of the tiny Shinigami infant-smiling, always smiling.

He headed to the railroad tracks as he angrily tossed thinking aside.

===

Metal roared and rumbled, the rusty wheels clattering like rapid gunfire as the soot-black locomotive thundered by in the opposite direction and Heero Yuy trudged angrily along the tracks of his static train. Fire simmered in his blue eyes, shooting sparks at nothing in particular as his thoughts sparked the flames. His anger choked his chest and blurred his lucid thoughts, mixed with this underlying sickened sensation. Gripping his backpack strap violently, he walked in defiance along the metal tracks, headed for the next station. He couldn't stand being in this town anymore so he'd started out on foot instead of waiting for that infuriating train. He absently kicked the flinty blue rocks scattered along the rails, relishing slightly in the violent way they scattered and struck the tracks.

After a few moments, the stinging of the sun beating down on his neck waned and he shrugged his coat on tighter-it became unusually breezy and cold. He took a second to realize something was wrong, when he glanced up at the sky and saw it was swallowed in an abrupt black swirling cloud.

And something shadowy rose up from the ground a hundred meters or so away from him, looming silently like the silhouette of a cloaked man. Heero stopped and looked ahead while his sense of danger planted his feet to the ground. With a sense of dread, as well, he pieced together the image of the bustling crowd and the assorted shrieks and law enforcement vehicles to come to the conclusion there had been a bloody assault in this sleepy town, and that he now confronted that murderer. Unarmed except for the adrealine already pusling through him.

Like a sick western high noon, the shadowy figure hovered unmoving as well.

And as the sky darkened and swirled darkly, something icy filled the mortal Heero Yuy's stomach. The distant shadow of a thing slowly reared its cryptic black head and hissed in a ragged pattern, almost as if snickering. It definitely didn't seem of human origin. The darkness parted like lips to reveal dripping, lethally serrated teeth that grinned hungrily at him and him alone. It definitely wasn't human.

Heero Yuy suddenly wished he'd listened.

===

[1] Hisa-me = Female demons of death in the Japanese underworld.

[2] The Japanese term for Master, or Husband-Shini's gonna be using it a lot. He speaks a variety of languages, just not above a young child's level. Also uses Aruji or Époux, which all mean Husband, or the more direct term 'my husband', Otto.

[[[[A/N]]]]

I'd like to thank everyone who supported me and told me I'd get over that 6-th Chapter bump-now I have his overwhelming urge to write, but I'm writing so much so quickly I'm sucking the creativity well dry. Give me a while to recover, and I'll continue. I apologize if Shini is a little crybaby to anyone and I understand-I don't always want him to cry-but it won't stay that way forever. I promise. Be patient, and thank you so much!