Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The Real Shinigami Revisited ❯ The Real Shinigami Revisited ( One-Shot )

Warnings: GW with an YnM twist. Weird spacing and even weirder formatting. Makes more sense if you just take it as it is. Very Bad Japanese. Non-graphic cruelty. That's about it, if you really care, author's notes are after the ficlet.

For what it's worth, this is for Milla, because she's too sweet for words. I [heart] you!

~ The Real Shinigami Revisited

So it's been five weeks and two days since the mission flunked. Five weeks and two days since he blew his Gundam to bits in an ultimate gesture of flipping OZ the bird. Report your status: physically unharmed. Mentally… you don't want to know.

My first thought - after the inevitable and obvious 'Noooo!' - circled around the blunt fact that I came back from the grave for him, to protect him, and look at me go. Great job. I watched him kill himself. Mission accomplished; please excuse me while I go figure out how the already dead go about a suicide. The when it turned out that he, by some miracle, had survived the blow, inwardly I thanked the gods I don't believe in and waited for the catch. There's always a catch. We'll get to that. Outwardly, I flashed them my widest, fake-est trademark grin and cracked a few jokes I don't want to repeat. Despite the evidence, I'm not really morbid, and I don't like posing as such. But, that's what he expects from me and, frankly, if I cared for the guy enough to escape the evil bureaucrats of afterlife, I sure as hell can toss a few dark jokes. I'm pretty sure the others saw through it; Qat's been too smart to buy the act from day one, I know 'cause he up and told me so. I guess I should give that for Trowa too, and Wufei …hell, if he cared he could prob'ly call my bluff after ten seconds of actually paying attention.

Point is, Heero doesn't. And, these days, it's all about him anyway.

Oh yeah, the fates played a mean trick on me. Ironic, my vocabulary provided, but in the middle of it I couldn't have cared less. To dub my not all that important self Shinigami, for the symbolism and the cool sound of it, and then find out the hard way that the Shinigami do exist… and be given the chance to become one for real… in retrospect the irony is in my face, it's that loud. But it's not even remotely funny. I might manage a bitter laugh in, oh, a hundred years, give or take a decade. After all, I do have that time. I have all the time I don't want.

But I took the name, so I might damn well be worth it; in death as I was in life.

Yes, I do know I was damn good at what I used to do. But I'm not supposed to do it anymore, so that's enough gloating.

Emphasis on 'supposed'. I took up the offer, and the first thing I did as an angel of death was go AWOL and find my family. I didn't stick around to learn the lore, hell, not even the basics. I was flying by the seat of my pants, just like I'd always done. And look where it got me …I'm not thinking about it. I had a mission plan, and in so many words it was as follows: I'd spend every minute I was given with the guys and then face whatever consequences. I was dead. Oblivion was on the top of my list of preferable futures, right there after getting my life back, which, I was told in no uncertain terms, but not unkindly either, would be impossible.

I ignored the first calls back to duty, and they eventually stopped coming altogether. I figured they were getting the court marshal in session for my return and decided not to think about it. That was maybe six weeks back.

Not long before the close call.

At first I was so sure he was dead. What else was I supposed to think, after seeing Wing go down in a blaze of glory like it did? Well, mostly it went apart. Up, down, east, west, to every direction imaginable. But that's just me being morbid. Because, you know, there was a person inside. Lumps of metal, even high-tech lumps like Wing, explode, blow up, go apart. People, even ones seemingly made of unbreakable metal, like Heero, die.

But he didn't. When we got the word from Trowa, I was so afraid he's ended up like me, dead and kickin'. After all, what did I know about the Shinigami?

One look at him cured me of that fear. It could have scared me to see him so battered up; by all rights it should have, but knowing how much worse off he could've been right there and then, every cut and bruise by their existence reminded me that he was alive in every sense of the word. Maybe on occasion he caught me smiling at his trouble breathing with his healing ribs, or at him awkwardly shifting positions because however you looked at it, his body was bruised all over and had to hurt. If he did, he never said anything. When I suspected he had I just made some lame joke to cover my blunder.

Fast forward to today, which, so far, has sucked beyond all reason. The war did what all wars tend to do, it took a turn to hell. We always fought with all we got; now, we fight with what we haven't. I'm glad I do this for simple reasons, 'cause to be painfully honest, I'm not sure I could keep up with complicated ones anymore. If I could believe in them. It comes down to love, hate and vengeance; everyone's a soldier of any one. Or truth and justice for all, I'd like to say, but I'm not sure if I believe in ideals any more. See, love, hate and vengeance you can almost touch, taste, feel. Ideals you can only reach for. Tell me how justice feels and I might believe in it.

I know how Heero feels to my senses, so I believe in him. That's a variant of love, and not idealistic. If you call love idealistic I'll tell you to spend a day really, truly loving someone and then come talk to me about ideals.

Today, I walked into a safehouse, and in on a pair I didn't know and, in retrospect, wish I'd never seen in my …afterlife.

Irony in my face. I'd been right all along, Heero was dead. Is dead. Or is not, but as good as. You know that thing about a cat in a box with poison; how as long as you don't look the cat's both dead and alive, or maybe it's just dead because hell, you put it in a box with poison and aren't gonna look, so even if it's alive it might as well be dead …this isn't anything like it. It's way simpler. He's alive, when he should be dead, and someone is going to make sure that state of things gets changed.

He's dead.

They explained it all to me, how people are given a time on Earth, some longer, some just a while. About a list where it says when it's time to blow out the candle. Even about the place where the snuffing of the said candle happens …hell, until today I'd thought that was just an expression. I might've been interested if it hadn't been for the reason for this information overflow. That Heero's name was down, and in big red block letters next to his name the alarming fact that he was still among the living. Avoiding death, living on borrowed time; put it anyway you'd like to, the fact remains that he'd had a date with death in that explosion, and he'd bailed.

They told him it was because of me. If I'd've been dead and gone he wouldn't have fought his way back. I broke all the rules and managed to drag him down with me, even if neither one of us knew.

I broke all the rules and expected to be judged for that. Court marshaled, I had for some reason envisioned it, with strict looking officials of the bureau in their suits and glasses and the permanent office accessory of paperwork doing the judging. I'd accepted that, mainly because from pretty early on I had figured that sooner or later my past, the way I lived my life to the last day (and beyond) would catch up with me. I never lived my life by the book, unless the book was 'Crimes and Offenses against the Community'. I brought my karma with me to the afterlife, no big deal.

That was for me, and not for Heero. And now these guys were telling me they wanted to bring Heero to be judged alike, for evading death.

For Christ's sake, he didn't do it on purpose!! If I brought him back then it was me who broke the rules, and rules I'd already broken a dozen times over, so why the hell would I care now? I did it once, I'd do it again …to keep him safe I will do it again, and again until this mad freakin' war is over and fought with.

I told them so. And that I wouldn't let them take him, and that if my being here keeps him from getting himself killed then I wouldn't let them take me either. I went as far as trying to threaten them, even if I knew nothing about them, nothing about what I had against them, I just thought the gain would be worth the risk, because the loss would take everything I existed for.

So what if my chances to win probably weren't. Not good, not bad, just simply weren't. Didn't exist. None. I've never been one to give in without a fight. Besides, I got some impressive firepower to begin with, and my imagination to help me work from there. I knew I wasn't making empty threats by any normal standards.

I also wasn't sure normal standards would apply.

Have you ever had that ridiculously detached feeling, like you were standing in a spotlight or a vacuum, and all around you the world goes on but you can hear and see it as through a glass, or from very far away? Imagine hearing the dreaded conversation openers 'We need to talk,' or 'I'm sorry, we did everything we could but…'. It's like that. And somewhere during my outburst the world had done just that, shrunken to include just me and the two other Shinigami. I was fully aware that Heero had come in right after me, heard every word and understood not one. Somehow, it was like being on good drugs; I knew but I didn't care. Or I cared but not enough to deal with it right now.

[Duo? Duo, what's going on?]

I heard him.

I did see him standing there in the very image of apprehensive confusion: expression guarded, eyes alert, warily evaluating the situation; shoulders raised in rigid tension, entire body ready to spring into action at the first hint of movement from the others in the room. You'll never catch Heero like a deer in the headlights, he's too well trained. Not fazed by little things. Like hearing he's supposedly dead, but has successfully avoided that even if it's by no effort of his own.

A good soldier can take things in stride when need be.

And Heero's the Perfect Soldier.

[…Duo? Nan da?]

But if I had cared to see I would've seen the realization sinking in, and that I'd been too confident in trusting Heero to handle everything with the customary effectiveness. As it was I saw his eyes widening; in fear, or what, I didn't want to venture a guess and I still don't because as far as I'm concerned Heero and fear don't go well together. The combination is just absurd.

Live and learn.

[Duo? Ore wa …shinda ka? No, Duo, I'm not, chigau, I'm not! Duo, o misete, I'm here, I'm alive, ne? Oshiete, ne? Duo, please!]

Well shit. Flat-out panic ahead. If I could just make myself care. I wondered if cottony feeling is a sign of your mind caving in.

[I'm not Duo please!]

Wondered how long till the rest I said would register.

[Onegai! …E? Keep… ore o mamoritai? Duo, omae wa, naze da? Naze da?!]

Ah.

[Naze da?!]

He doesn't speak to us that much Japanese. It comes out in the little things, like saying good morning, if he ever does. And then when he's excited or agitated or …frightened. I could circle around it and say 'upset' or 'off-center', but it wouldn't change the fact that, then and there, he was scared out of his wits. Well so was I, join the club.

And I wanted so bad to soothe that fear when I couldn't even control my own, but thought better not to. I'm not stupid. My valiant attempt would've had me looking into the barrel of his gun. And well, valiant? Not really. I wanted like crazy to cling onto something because I wasn't feeling so great myself. And the person you love is always the best option, specially right when you're about to lose them for all eternity.

But I was starting to consider the older Shinigami an option.

Funny how it seemed the scene was dragging on into eternity when in reality we didn't stand there frozen into our footsteps all that long. But it felt like it from my vantage point. Me standing there like a very angry deer in the headlights, but a deer still, and the Shinigami across the room regarding me with sad eyes. And Heero in the doorway, asking, pleading for reassurance I wasn't giving. Points for me for that. I can cross dimensional barriers for him but asking a simple question proves too hard. Yes, Heero, you are dead. No, nothing is all right. And sorry, but I don't know what's happening.

And the eyes of the older Shinigami were sending me on a guilt trip I didn't need. I felt like I'd somehow put him through this, for nothing when we all knew the outcome couldn't be changed. And maybe I did. But that's what I do: fight losing battles. That's what the five of us are best at.

[Duo… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. But it can't be helped. It can't be changed. It's time for you both to come. Will you explain it to him?]

Gods. I felt so sorry for him I thought my heart was gonna break, if it could survive the shock of losing Heero after all the fight I'd put up, and the fear of not knowing what would happen to him. Or to me, for that matters.

[…Duo?]

Please don't ask me.

[Duo?]

Please don't ask me to.

I won't! I won't! I may be going down but I'm going my way, I'm going fighting!

So what if I knew even when I was pulling my gun that this time it wouldn't work, this one time it just wouldn't work, that even if it bought me a few seconds, this time it wouldn't give me that headstart?

So what if I hated myself when the first bullet hit; if that was the first time I ever fired my gun on someone not even trying to defend themselves? One after one after one, thud, thud, thud. So what if the green-eyed boy's scream tore into my soul because the cry was mine?

Did I care when the bleeding man still told me he was sorry?

What the hell was I even doing?

I had a lot of questions. I wished I had one answer that made a difference.

I knew all along I'd already lost. My life, our death, they'd caught up with me. I knew what I was doing when I sent the empty gun flying, and I reached out for my best friend, for the one I love, for the one I wanted to spend my life and death protecting even if he doesn't really need it, and I'm glad that he doesn't because I botched both. And then I did what boys don't do.

I cried.

[I'm sorry, Heero, I'm so so sorry..! I'm sorry I was always an idiot, I'm sorry I kept you here when you should've been gone, I'm sorry I always run and hide, and I'm sorry for doing this when I don't know where I'm going from here …Heero. You're going to Heaven, I know you are, 'cause you were always my angel. I love you. Aishiteita. Aishiteru, Heero, always.]

I said I was sorry for doing what I did then: I ran. I was hugging him, but where he didn't see it I let the Shinigami do what they did to take him. To press a slip of paper against his back to call the soul. At least that's what I think happened.

I couldn't stay to watch his reaction; feel him freeze in my arms, push me away, look at me in disgust, put his rejection into words. So I did what I could to run. I'm not proud of that.

And then he was gone.

And then, so was I.

I'd had a go at getting my life back and it had blown up on my face. Next on my list, oblivion. That's what I was aiming at, pretty much beyond caring to feel the sympathy practically radiating from the violet-eyed Shinigami.

The one that isn't me. I'm one, too, at least for a while more.

I should probably apologize to him… to them both. Because I think they love each other and I almost offed one of them. Good thing I couldn't.

If I could just make myself care.

Then I might know how it feels, walking through the doors…

…and finding myself hugged and held, and him crying in my arms.

[Aishiteru, Duo! Aishiteru! Ima o, zutto wa honto ni zutto.]

In retrospect, that should be obvious.

And that's going to be the last time I look back. Really.

~ Owari ~

A/n: So there.

What's in a name? This was the result of me asking my friend for a GW cliché I could write about. 'The Real Shinigami' got picked. This probably offers nothing new, but, um, it's weirder and creepier than most of its kind. And that's something, if not very impressive.

The Japanese: I won't mind you telling me what I got totally wrong. Or asking me what the bloody h*** I was trying to say with it. I thought about just putting it all in English to avoid the I-know-Japanese feel, but liked it better this way.

Thanks for reading!