Hello All!
Um, I'm not sure if I should be sending this out to
the FFML since there's been a distinct lack of
enthusiasm for it here.
Anyway, old parts of this fic can be found at:
http://www.midnightrevolution.org/gundam
You can also find a whole bunch of neat extras, and an
HTML version of this.
Please let us know what you think!
~QS

Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai
Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all
original characters and plot copyright 2000 by
Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission
before reposting. 

SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING 
SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT VI, PART II 
Yuuki to jounetsu ni sarawaretara 
Ichido ni suki ni naachau tokimeichau  
Omoitoori egaku yume naraba 
Omoitoori ni naru 
Daiji na mono wo mitsuketa nara 
Kakedashite iku dake 
Joy to my life	

If I am touched by courage and passion 
At once I'll fall in love  
If it's a dream I'll paint it as I wish 
It will come true just like that 
If I find something precious 
I'll simply start running 
Joy to my life	
--Gundam Wing, Joy to My Life
[Dorothy Catalonia image song]

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Scene V: A Thousand Tales of Sorrow 
"Douka kono inori o hane no nai 
Tenshi ga afureteru jidai de." 		
[I beg you, hear my prayer]
 [in an era full of wingless angels] 	
--Hamasaki Ayumi, Endless Sorrow
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He awoke shivering. 

The cold dark-lightness of pre-dawn seeped in through
the slats of the motel window blinds and he turned on
his stomach, trying to open his eyes fully and
failing. It was humid in the room, and he could feel
the worn blankets of the bed twirled about his ankles,
where he had probably kicked them off during the
night. 

He hadn't been sleeping well the past few nights, but
he had done his best to ignore it, because he had
always been able to sleep through anything. It was
probably anxiety, he told himself. Or maybe change of
surroundings. Or a thousand other excuses that he ran
over in his head when he was awake, to keep himself
from admitting that the real problem was none of
those. 

He had been a drug addict for two years, and his
system was craving substances which he now had no
ability to acquire. 

Oh, sure, he had gone without the drugs for days, even
a week, once, when he was in the middle of a mission
and couldn't feed his addiction. But that wasn't the
problem now. 

On the other bed across the room, a figure sighed,
turning on the bed before settling back down to sleep.
He sat up, brushing the hair back from his face with
an unsteady hand, tucking the long strands behind his
ears and reaching for the leather band sitting on the
nightstand next to him. His fingers shook and black
spots swam in front of his eyes, but he managed to
fasten the band around the mess of tangled hair.
Pushing himself back up against the rusted metal
headboard, he glanced over at the other sleeper. 

Wufei had asked him to come along like there had never
been anything wrong between them. I'm going to win the
war, he said. We're going to Geneva. To the
Preventers. He'd tried to object. It was natural, that
the one-time assassin would not want to join forces
with his one-time target, but then he and Wufei were
not the average assassin and target. 

What can the Preventers do? 

They can help us. As if there had always been an us. 

He didn't remember much about Lady Une, only that she
had been an enemy, an ally of Treize Khushrenada.
Treize had been a great man. That he remembered. Wufei
had killed him�in that last battle. Before everything
had ended. Before Zechs had tried to kill him. 

Zechs Merquise, a man with long golden hair and bright
blue eyes and a sense of tragic justice almost as
painful as the thousands of people who had died
because of him. Almost as painful as the billions of
people who would have died if he - Heero Yuy - had not
been there to stop him. 

Wufei called him Heero, still, but sometimes he still
couldn't imagine that he and Heero Yuy had ever been
the same person. 

It made his head ache if he tried to remember too much
at once, and the dull ache lingered long after he had
given up trying to dig up anything else about his
past. Until he had surrendered to his own
consciousness that it wasn't just the remembering that
brought on the headaches. 

Wufei didn't really notice the sweating, because it
was hot and humid in China and even stepping outside
for a brief moment made water condense on the skin
like dew. The redness around his eyes could be
explained by lack of sleep, and the trembling of his
muscles wasn't too visible yet. And Wufei knew about
his drug habit, if worse came to worse. 

The old Heero Yuy would have shrugged it off and borne
the tide. Perhaps the old Heero Yuy wouldn't have had
any withdrawal symptoms at all. Or maybe the old Heero
Yuy wouldn't have been stupid enough to swallow the
brightly colored pills and shoot the needles into his
arm anyway. 

But that was ridiculous, because it had been a choice.
An easy way for him to forget, and he had taken it
without question. The old Heero Yuy had done it, and
he was suffering the consequences. 

Darkflight had come along with them, though he could
see the dislike in the other boy's eyes whenever he so
much as glanced at Wufei. It had been rather necessary
that Darkflight come with them, since Wufei's face was
plastered all over the newspapers and televisions of
China, and he himself didn't want to take the chance
of someone recognizing Heero Yuy even under the long
hair and the scar. So it was Darkflight who checked in
to the cheap motel, Darkflight who bought the shuttle
passes, Darkflight who supplied them with food. They
had rented a private shuttle, since it was the only
sensible way to travel without being recognized, and
Darkflight had put down the down payment on the craft
with Wufei's money. By the time the shuttle owners
realized that they weren't actually going to return
the shuttle, the three of them would be well out of
China. 

Other than that, Darkflight had not been around at
all. Conversation between them was awkward, and at
times he wondered if Darkflight even wanted to talk to
him at all. He was uncomfortable around Wufei, and
even the cheap motel was fancier than anything he had
slept in in two years. It wasn't that he was not
grateful to Wufei for his generosity�but he didn't
belong here. He was a killer and a drug addict and one
of the dregs of society, and he belonged back in the
Breaks. 

The Preventers and the World Nation were looking for
Heero Yuy. He was not Heero Yuy. 

You don't have to come with us if you don't want to,
he had said to Darkflight. 

What choice do I have? 

You could go�back to the Breaks. He stopped, thinking.
Back home. This isn't your mission anymore. 

And leave you here? 

What else could you do? 

He knew Darkflight was angry, but when his partner
turned to face him, he was surprised to see the hurt
brimming above the anger. Damn it, Wing. You've been
my partner for two years, and now you're ditching me
for some other guy? You think I'm going to take that? 

Wufei was my partner long before you were. 

Well, he's not anymore! You're not that pilot anymore!
You don't belong here�you belong with us, with me,
back where we came from. Stop shitting yourself, Wing.


I'm sorry, he said. I can't just�leave him. 

And I can't just leave you. So I'm going. And if you
try to stop me, I'll kill you. 

Darkflight was what he had been two years ago, lost,
confused, needing to forget. But there was only so
much he could forget before it would come back to
haunt him. Darkflight called him Wing and Wufei called
him Heero, and somehow, some way, Wing and Heero had
to meet, to come to terms with one another. That was
what he was. Torn, adrift. 

He wanted the drugs. He needed the drugs. 

He remembered Relena now. She had come up in a
conversation between him and Wufei last night, just
before they settled down to sleep, her name appearing
in one of Wufei's cautious topic starters. He had
already learned to recognize the tone of voice that
the Chinese boy used when they were talking about
something that he should know but Wufei wasn't sure if
he remembered or not. The name sparked a flash of
memory, of a voice. Of resolve. 

And then Atsuki's face would flash into his mind every
time he tried to think further, and he would stop.
Relena. Atsuki. Atsuki was not Relena. Atsuki was� 

Relena had loved him. Atsuki had not. At least, he
didn't think so. 

He was pretty sure he had been shivering just a few
minutes ago, but suddenly he felt hot, suffocating in
the small crampness of the room, and he needed to get
out. His muscles were shaking so badly he could barely
get out of bed, and he fumbled to put on a pair of the
worn slippers that Wufei had loaned him. Walked
unsteadily to the door, managed to turn the knob
quietly as to not wake the other boy. 

The door led outside to a small balcony and a rickety
set of stairs. The air was cool and there was a slight
breeze, but he still felt hot. He put a hand to his
forehead. It was burning. He took a few steps towards
the stairs, grasping the railing to steady himself.
Every hesitant footstep made the stairs squeak, and to
his fevered ears, each squeak sounded like a clap of
thunder. 

He spoke enough Chinese to read the blinking neon
signs along the street and to know that this was not a
good part of town. It was heaven compared to the slums
that he had called home for two years. But at the same
time, it was hell enough that he knew all he had to do
was hand over some cash before his feverish cravings
would be satisfied. 

No matter where one went, there were some aspects of
human nature that never changed. 

Getting the needle took longer than he expected, and
by the time he was standing out on the street again,
the sun was rising on the far horizon. He'd given
himself one injection and it was a little better now.
But his hands were still shaking and the road wavered
in front of him and he needed the paradise that was in
that one jab of the needle. Needed to stop and curl up
in some forgotten alley somewhere and give himself
injection after injection until the needle was empty
and then curl up and sleep until the night came. 

But Wufei was an early riser, and if he woke to see
the other bed empty, there would be questions. 

He had to get back. 

At a half-run, half-walk, he made it to the motel,
climbed up the rickety stairs. He'd left the door
unlocked, and he peered through the half-opening to
see the figure of the other boy still asleep on the
bed. It was all right, then. He would give himself
another shot. Just one more. 

Shivering fingers clamped on the needle and as the
metal tube gave its orgasmic hiss, he heard the door
squeak open. 

"What are you doing?" 

A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind. He
wanted to lie, but the needle was in his hand. He
could brush the question off and ignore it. He could
say that it wasn't any of anyone else's business. That
he wasn't Heero Yuy, the boy that had saved the world
two years ago. 

But it wasn't that easy. 

The day of accounting, it seemed, was here. 

"I�m keeping myself alive," he said. 

For a long moment there was silence behind him, as he
finished injecting the rest of the drug into his vein,
pulled the needle out, cleaned it with the edge of his
shirt. He turned around. The look in Wufei's eyes was
unreadable. 

"You're up early," the Chinese boy said at last. 

He gestured to the needle emotionlessly. "I couldn't
sleep." 

Wufei didn't reply for another long moment, and when
his lips finally moved, a flash of the hurt that had
been hiding behind those inscrutable eyes shone
through. Just for a moment. 

"Why?" 

That was another one of those questions that had a
thousand possible answers, but instead he just
laughed. "Why? Of all the things you could say�you ask
why?" 

"I don't understand," Wufei said. "I don't�I thought
you were going to put that behind you, Heero. I
thought-" 

He felt something stir inside him before the rest of
the words were out of Wufei's mouth, and he flung his
arm in a wide arc. The needle flew from his hand in a
sparkling line of rusted silver lit by the rising sun,
skittered on the metal of the rickety balcony, bounced
down two of the stairs, and then tumbled through the
gap towards the ground. 

"What don't you understand? I'm sorry for not being
the person you thought I was, but face it, Wufei, I'm
not. I'm not Heero Yuy. I'm not your goddamn fucking
noble Gundam pilot! All right? Get that through your
head!" 

If his words made any impact on Wufei, the other boy
didn't show it. "We were never noble, Heero, Anything
but that." 

"I�m not Heero," he grated. "Don't call me that." 

"Yes you are." 

"No, I'm NOT!" One fist bunched at his side, his
instincts warning him that there was a situation here,
and the habits of long practice telling him that the
only way to get out of this situation was to fight. To
hurt someone. To kill someone. Because he was an
assassin. No matter where he was now, he had always
been an assassin. 

"You can deny it all you want," Wufei said calmly. How
did he remain so calm? "But even if you've given up on
yourself, I won't give up on you." 

"Fuck you," he said through gritted teeth, forcing his
hand to relax. "I don't have to listen to you. I don't
have to come with you. You think you can make me do
what you want?" 

"I�m not trying to manipulate you," Wufei said. 

"Damn fucking right you're not! If this isn't
manipulation, then what is it?" He took a deep breath.
Relax. Relax. He's not the enemy. Not yet. "You tell
me. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't belong
here. Darkflight was right. I belong back in the
Breaks�" he trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.
Feeling incredibly alone. 

"No you DON'T," Wufei shot back, in the same calm,
cold intensity with which he had taken in the needle
in his hand, all in one glance. Something clicked
inside his mind and he realized suddenly why this felt
odd. Wufei, standing there, conversing with him calmly
about life and death. Wufei had been many things, but
he had never been calm. Wufei was like�he was like
Duo. In a way. He was impulsive and outspoken and
always ready to prove everything wrong. 

Which was why it was pointless to keep the argument up
any longer, because Wufei's eerie calmness was wearing
at his nerves. How Wufei was supposed to be, how he
remembered Wufei to be, the other boy was not. There
was no point in trying to merge reality with the ghost
of a memory. It was all wrong. 

"Look�Heero. Whatever you call yourself now, I know
you're there. You're still there inside somewhere, and
I'm going to bring you back. You can't give up on
yourself like this." The earnestness in the other
boy's voice was the earnestness that made him think of
innocence, the kind of innocence that characterized
children growing up in the slums of the Breaks. Most
of them knew that they would never have enough to eat,
would never find out who their parents really were,
would never live to become adults. But still they were
innocent, because they still believed in God. And
Santa Claus and the taneki and true love. And
miracles. 

Wufei believed in miracles, just like he had, once.
When he had been very young, two years ago. 

"There's nothing to give up on," he said. Hoping that
the questions could just stop. Sick of philosophizing,
because no matter how noble the ideal, there were
things that Wufei could never understand. And life in
the Breaks was one of them. "Look, I threw the needle
away. It's gone, all right? You win this time. Get
lost." 

"I'm not giving up on you," Wufei said again. "You've
got a life left to live�you have a cause. Whether you
believe it or not. You're going to show the world that
being one of the Gundam pilots was more than just
being a murderer." 

He laughed, more like a wheeze. His lungs burned. He
needed a cigarette. "Funny you mention that, because
that's what I am now. How do you expect me to explain
that?" 

Wufei's face darkened, and for a moment he could
almost see the hands reaching for the sword that
wasn't there. The remnants of the Lone Dragon that
still lived inside the shadow of those eyes. Wufei
looked very old, he realized. Old and tired. For the
first time, he wondered if Wufei had been running too,
from the demons of his past. 

"I'm not going to try to argue with you," Wufei said.
"It's never worked, and it won't work now. But I won't
stop looking after you. The world needs you, Heero."
Emphasizing the name. "We need you." Swallowing, then
finishing in a quiet voice, "I need you." 

"Why don't you leave me alone?" he said wearily,
slamming his elbows on the thin metal railing and
burying his chin in his hands. "Just�fucking�.leave me
alone." 

For a moment he thought Wufei would come up to him and
touch him, and he instinctively shied away. But the
other boy didn't move. 

"I�m trying to save you from yourself. Heero." 

The name hurt. It stung. He hadn't admitted it to
himself now, but hearing that name reopened wounds
deep inside of him that he had closed when he had
renounced the persona of Heero Yuy. When he had become
Wing, the memories faded. It was a like a scar, like
the long, ugly scar on his face. He couldn't rid
himself of the memories, but at least he could hope
that they scarred. 

"There's nothing to save," he said. "Heero Yuy doesn't
exist anymore." Turning to look Wufei square in the
face, and though the thought of what he was going to
say twisted something inside of him that might have
been his heart, he did not waver. "Even if you look,
he won't be there. I'm the only thing that's left." 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
SceneVI: The Princess and the Pauper 
"Desperate for changing, starving for truth 
I'm closer to where I started, I'm chasing after you."
--Lifehouse, Hanging By A Moment
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Catherine really had no clue who Lady Une wanted her
to see. Perhaps it was a special investigator, who had
been on the pilots' trail? Someone who would
interrogate her for knowledge that was locked away
deep in her subconscious? Whom could it be? she
wondered time and again. 

Takamura took her to a luxurious guest room, and told
her to get some sleep, for the General would summon
Catherine at her earliest possible convenience. Then
he gave her a salute, clicking his heels briefly, and
left her alone. 

Catherine couldn't resist exploring her
accommodations. As a member of a circus troupe, she
had been used to her trailer. On rare occasions, she'd
stayed in hotels, but never anything this nice. 

Her trailer could have fit into the bathroom with room
to spare, and that wasn't even going to being to cover
it. The bed was the largest she'd ever seen, and had
at least six luxuriously plump pillows strewn of it
with the carelessness that spoke of a dedicated maid.
The windows were decorated with sweeping drapes of a
crimson velvet so dark that it was almost purple. The
art of the walls was sedate, yet tasteful, and she
recognized that none of them were prints, but the
genuine article. Overall, it gave her the feel of
being a crow in a gilded cage. 

Why had she rated such a wonderful room? she wondered,
as she kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her
powersuit. She wished she had more formal clothes then
the one simple blue suit, but she really hadn't
expected to need it. The best she could hope for was
to hang it in the bathroom and hope that the steam
from the shower would serve to keep it reasonably
presentable. 

She pulled a hanger out of the closet and slipped her
suit over it, then headed to the bathroom. She needed
a shower even more then she needed sleep. 

The hot water did wonders for her sore muscles, and
she found herself humming by the time she turned to
the bed. She tied her hair back in a French braid to
avoid an unpleasant mess when she woke up, and almost
immediately fell asleep. 
***

A knock sounded on the door, and she rolled over.
"Yes?" she called out. 

"May I come in?" a soft voice said with a distinct
upper-class accent. 

Catherine blinked, wondering who had awakened her from
her slumber. "Give me a moment, please," she said,
scrambling to her feet. She raced to the bathroom and
shrugged into the blue outfit, relieved that the steam
had served to straighten it out reasonably. She didn't
have time to put her stockings back on, but ran a
quick brush through her hair, which had been messed
from slumber. She winced a few times as the bristles
caught on a tangle, but continued ruthlessly. 

It took her less then two minutes to become
presentable, and she felt each second hang heavy on
her shoulders. Whoever was outside was obviously
someone of importance, and part of her wondered if
they would wait. She scampered to the door and swung
it open, hoping she didn't seem too out of breath. 

"May I come in?" the Queen of the World asked.
Catherine's jaw dropped as she stepped aside to allow
Relena Peacecraft to enter, trailed by two guards.
Relena flashed her a weary smile. "I left Cinq without
guards, so Une assigned me Abbott and Costello." 

"Abbott and Costello?" Catherine found herself
echoing. 

"American cultural reference, about three hundred
years out of date. Ignore it- I got addicted to the
old 2D skits during the war. They were so.... removed
from my problems." She frowned at the guards. "Would
you be so kind as to leave me here? I'm sure Ms. Bloom
poses no threat." 

"We'll be right outside," the taller guard said. 

"I'm sure you will," Relena replied in a dry voice. 

"Yell if you need us," the other said quickly, his
hard tones threatening. He cast a suspicious look at
Catherine, on that made her curl slightly in on
herself. His dark eyes promised mayhem should anything
happen to Relena Peacecraft. Then the two men left,
and Catherine found herself alone with one of the most
powerful people in the world. 

It was true that she had spoken to Une recently, and
Une herself was no lightweight when it came to power,
but Relena was different. Trowa had spoken of Une, and
he had an odd affection for her. Not so of Relena. 

The few times Trowa had been drawn into discussion of
the current political situation, he had expressed his
fervent belief that Relena was something more then
human. A girl who had survived the death of her
kingdom, only to help it rise again when she was
barely fifteen. A girl many people believed to be the
incarnation of peace. A girl in whom Heero Yuy himself
had faith. 

As with Une, Catherine was surprised by Relena's
physical appearance. She knew mentally she shouldn't
be but Relena both impressed and disappointed her on
sight. The girl was younger than she was expecting.
and seemed to be almost fragile. Even though she had
seen her numerous times on the newsfeeds, she hadn't
been prepared for the reality- much like Une. Her
golden hair was starting to suffer from split ends,
and there were circles forming underneath her clear
eyes. There was strength in her bearing, but also a
bone-deep weariness that seemed to permeate her. 

Relena was human. It was a shock. 

"Can I sit down?" Relena asked politely, taking a sat
in the middle of a comfortable chaise at Catherine's
nod. "I know I should have waited for Une to introduce
us, but to be honest, I have very little patience.
I've been wanting to meet you for a while." 

"Meet me, your Majesty?" Catherine asked. 

Relena sighed. "I'll make you a deal- you can call me
Relena if I can call you Catherine. And yes, I've been
wanting to talk to you... since the middle of the war,
actually." She looked down at the hands she had folded
on her lap. 

"Why?" It was beyond comprehension that she, Catherine
Bloom, could hold any interest to someone as
influential as Relena. 

A faint blush stained the other girl's cheeks. "It's
really rather complicated." 

"I don't know Heero that well," Catherine said
bluntly. 

Relena's head jerked upwards in surprise. "What?" she
whispered. 

"I only met him during the war and we hardly spoke. I
haven't seen him since." 

"Why do you automatically assume I want Heero?" Relena
asked, sighing. Was her infatuation with Heero that
famous? 

Catherine blushed, feeling the blood rush to her
cheeks. "Um, I'm sorry if I offended, but Trowa always
said that you were close to Heero, and..." 

Relena started to giggle. Trowa's sister was clearly
embarrassed over her faux pas. "Actually, you have me
pegged pretty well," Relena confessed. "I knew Heero
quite well during the war. I'm trying to find him now,
so I can help him..." she whispered, a wistful
expression on her face, one that she quickly
suppressed behind the polite political smile Catherine
had seen her using during her public engagements. The
smile made her look pretty, but her blue eyes were
lacking anything except sorrow. 

Catherine knew how that felt. Relena had the eyes of a
survivor. 

"None of them want to be found. Trowa left to protect
me- I'm sure Heero did the same." 

Relena's smile faded. "Most likely. He was always like
that." 

"They all were." 

"Did you know many of them?" 

"I met them all at some point or another. I'd hardly
say I know all of them, but we're acquaintances." 

"You're luckier then most. I hardly remember Trowa or
Wufei." She twisted her hands together. "From what I
understand, Wufei spend much of the war on his own,
and Trowa..." 

"He was with me." 

"I know." 

Both girls sat together in companionable silence. "So
Trowa left?" Relena said finally. 

"He didn't even bother to say good-bye. I'm going to
smack him when I see him." 

"That's assuming you ever see him again," Relena said
gloomily. 

"Watch what you say!" Catherine snapped, then flushed
as soon as she realized whom she had just yelled at.
"I'm sorry, your Majesty. I overstep myself." 

"Relena. And no, you don't. Don't let my pessimism get
you down." 

"Relena, this situation will have to blow over
eventually. Something will happen, you'll see. And
when it does, Trowa and the others will be back, right
as rain. They always come out on top." Catherine spoke
with an authority she didn't feel. 

"I wish that were true." Relena sighed and climbed to
her feet, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I'll let
you get back to sleep. It was a pleasure to meet you,"
the Queen of the World said, nodding her head regally.
She started towards the door, then turned around, a
shy expression on her face. "If you would like, we can
have breakfast together tomorrow." There was an
uncertain set to her features. 

"It would be my honor, your Majesty," Catherine
answered without thinking. 

"Relena," the other girl corrected. 

"Relena," Catherine repeated obediently, feeling
horribly gauche. There was something wrong about
calling the Queen of Cinq by her first name. 

Relena gave her a relieved smile and opened the door,
only to regain her guards. "Have pleasant dreams! I'll
send someone to pick you up around nine!" she said as
she disappeared. Catherine watched as the door clicked
close, then headed back over to her bed and crawled
under the warm covers. 

Her thoughts were confused, though that was hardly a
surprise. It wasn't ever day that the Queen of the
World invited you to breakfast. She mused briefly on
how Relena had casually assumed that she would be
welcome, casually ordered around Preventer bodyguards,
casually taken control of the room. Some people were
born to power, and were unable to believe that they
could be denied anything. She wondered what it would
be like to unthinkingly have that kind of confidence,
and was unable to. 

People had always been amazed at her knife throwing
skills, and she supposed it was similar. Most people
wouldn't think of throwing a sharp pointed object at
another human being, but Catherine had been doing it
as long as she could remember. She thrilled whenever a
crowd held its breath, uncertain of her skill. She had
confidence in herself. 

As did Relena, but Relena's confidence was different.
She didn't play with the life of one person; she held
responsibility for the life of nations. 

She stared up at the ceiling, wondering why the girl
who had single-handedly rebuilt a kingdom wanted to
know her. 

It was a long time before Catherine fell back asleep. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Scene VII: Memoirs of a Warrior 
"Things have turned a deeper shade of blue.
And images that might be real, maybe illusion,
Keep flashing off and on."
--Cowboy Bebop, Blue
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd been a soldier his whole life, but Dermand Etille
could not remember a time when he had been so tired. 

He had seen engagements from the time he had been a
fresh-faced lieutenant out of the Academy fighting the
guerillas in the Gulf up through the riots on the
Colonies just before the Great War. He'd served in OZ
and in White Fang and on A007 as a military
representative of the World Nation, and it was like
war followed him wherever he went. He was, he decided,
a cursed specimen of a soldier. 

Their next target would be the heart of the military
operation itself. Gustavson had called a meeting last
night, explained the situation gravely, and it was
decided that it was time to go in for the crippling
blow. Or so they hoped. Etille wasn't sure if what
would be crippled was the A007 troops�or their own
forces. 

Gustavson was commander, but Etille was the real mind
behind the power. Gustavson was the rallying point,
but it was Etille's strategy which had allowed them to
advance to where they were now. It had always been
like that, though, and he didn't mind behind the one
standing behind the stage, pulling the curtains and
dimming the lights while the actors bowed upon the
stage. He was used to it. 

Milliard had been at the meeting, though swathed in
bandages, with Lucrezia Noin by his side. Etille had
been rather surprised when he saw her: a slight,
petite female whose burning eyes betrayed the soldier
in her blood. Pleasantly surprised. Major Noin knew
what she was doing. He'd heard of her reputation at
the Academy, but that had been distant news to an old
hand like him. It was comforting to know that the
Academy's offspring were carrying on the legacy. 

That is, the Academy which no longer existed. 

Etille understood that everything was ethereal in the
grand span of things, but he had loved that Academy.
It had taken him in when there was no one left, and it
had given him a sense of purpose. Of dignity and of
pride, and now it was only a memory, a smoking
casualty of war. 

Dorothy Catalonia had not been at the meeting. He'd
asked Milliard where she was, a question to which
Milliard shrugged his shoulders and shook his head and
looked everywhere but at Etille. Something had
happened, Etille decided, between the battle and the
meeting. He thought he could guess what. 

It had stopped raining. It had been drizzling on and
off for the past two days, and the normally dusty
ground was slimy and soft, with mud caking everything
that had been remotely exposed to the moisture,
including boots and weapons and mobile suits. The sky
sagged above the clifflines, gray and dreary and
altogether hopeless looking. 

It was about the way most of the troops felt. 

Etille pulled the flap of his tent shut, listening to
the muddy slosh of his boots through the murk that had
been sand just two days ago. The hydration pack which
he wore on his back was once again pleasantly full,
and he took a drink of the water through the drink
tube as he passed through the entrance to the
Preventers' camp. Milliard might not be awake, he
realized as he made his way down one hill and up the
other, hand clasped tightly around the notepad he held
in his left hand. The Preventers commander had been
tired at the meeting, and Noin had begged early leave,
saying that she had to put him to bed. 

They made an odd couple, Peacecraft and Noin. Odd,
but�right. 

Well, if Milliard wasn't awake, he would go see Noin,
make sure that the calculations on his pad were
correct before heading off to see Gustavson in another
staff meeting. Staff meetings had grown, over the
years, increasingly monotonous, but they were
necessary evils, and Etille wasn't about to argue that
in the situation of this gravity. 

He saw the figure standing motionless by the rock face
before he realized who it was. Long, dark coat drawn
over the slim figure, blond hair tucked away into a
camouflage helmet, arms wrapped around herself as if
warding away the cold. 

"Lady Dorothy." 

She jumped at his voice, and her head whipped towards
him as if seeking an escape. He stopped in his tracks,
regarding her with puzzlement. The dark circles under
her eyes and the weariness in her face were not
characteristic of the Dorothy he had known, and she
looked like she had not slept in days, but somehow she
looked noble still, beautiful. The echo of another
face drifted in front of hers for a second, and he
shook it away. He suddenly wondered again where she
had been during the meeting last night. 

"Are you all right?" 

He winced at the clich� sound of the question, but
surprisingly she didn't respond in kind, didn't nod
back, didn�t step around it and say yes, yes I'm fine.
She didn't answer, staring out into the cloudy sky,
and he came a few steps nearer. 

"Are you waiting for someone?" 

"No," she said, her voice laced with shivering anger
and sarcasm. "No one at all. Now if you'll excuse me,
I'm busy." 

He should have left. He should have taken the hint and
moved on, left the girl to her own mutterings. Perhaps
it was the father instinct in him missing the children
he had never had. Perhaps it was that returning
afterimage�of aching familiarity. "What happened,
Dorothy?" 

"That's none of your damn business. Nothing. Nothing
happened. Get lost." 

"It's Peacecraft, isn't it?" he said, never one for
idle chatter. 

She stared at him like he had sprouted horns and a
tail, then jerked her gaze away. 

"Who told you?" Her voice was dull, dead. 

"No one told me," Etille said, taking another step
nearer. "What happened, Dorothy?" 

"He's a bastard," she muttered, kicking the wet
ground. Mud spattered over her already dirty fatigues
and she stared at it as if it were a live thing. "And
she's a bitch." 

"You mean Lucrezia Noin." 

"Who else would I mean?" She paused a moment, flinging
her gaze back to him. "Before you even start to defend
her, don't bother. I know you two are all buddy-buddy,
having broken out of that compound or whatever, and I
don't need to hear again why she's a better soldier
than me, or how she can managed troops better than I
can, or how she's such a good person." 

"I wouldn't have said that," he said, aware that a
wrong word would send her fleeing back into whatever
shadowy corner of doubt from which she had emerged for
a second. "I'm just here to listen to you talk." 

She didn't answer. 

"Or if you don't feel like sharing," he said gently,
"I'll pass on." 

"How do you do it?" she asked suddenly. 

"Do what?" Etille said, curious. She looked so young,
staring up at him, coat clutched around her shoulders
like a shield. She looked like� 

"Survive," she murmured. "Just survive." 

For a moment he felt a wave of sympathy pass over him,
and he moved over to one of the soggy rocks, leaned
against it, conscious that his pants were being soaked
through but not really caring. He brushed thick gray
hair out of his vision, wondering what to say to this
young woman who had obviously had her heart broken and
her dreams shattered more times than she could
remember. 

"I was the son of a rich family," he said. "Just like
you." 

She looked uncertainly at him, wary of where the
narrative was going, but he merely stared out into the
gray fog and let his mind wander. 

"It was a long time ago, and hard for you to imagine,
I'm sure, but I was young once." An odd attempt at
humor, and he didn't expect her to laugh. She didn't.
"When I entered the Academy, I was twelve years old.
They only took thirteen years and up, but my father
made a special�donation, and they accepted me. I think
my family just wanted to get rid of me." 

"Sounds familiar," she muttered. 

"That was a while back, before all the war nonsense,
and I was stationed at several places before the war
actually began. You know what I did during the war.
You served with me." 

"For about three days," she said. "At the end." 

"Yes," he murmured. "The end. The end for White Fang,
I suppose, but for an old soldier like me, there had
already been an end before the war even began." 

"How is that?" she asked sharply. 

Etille smiled. "Soldiering, Dorothy, takes the life
out of you. You reach a certain age when you realize
that all the ideals and all the things you fought
for�just don't matter anymore. But you can't stop,
because that's all you've ever known." 

She looked away for a moment. "I don't believe it ever
stops mattering," she said. 

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" 

"Causes don't stop mattering�people do." 

He stared at her, at the sadly beautiful profile,
seeing that other face flit in front of his memory.
"Long story short, I ended up on A007 because the
World Nation didn't know where to put me. I had been
with White Fang, but I had enough of a history with
the Federation that they didn't consider me a war
criminal. But they didn't trust me back on Earth,
either. That's what A007 is�a colony for the
undeclared enemies of the World Nation." 

"You don't like the World Nation, then?" 

"I wouldn't say that," he said. "They gave me a second
chance. I had a good time on A007. I'm an engineer by
trade�I helped construct the colony. That was two
years ago. A lot of things have changed since then." 

"Yes, they have," Dorothy muttered. Her hands twisted
together over her knees and she sighed. 

"If I'm boring you with my old folks' stories," he
said, "I'll leave." 

"I just don't understand�" she said. "I don't�" 

He realized she was crying before the tears started
running down her cheeks, and suddenly he wasn't the
aging, cynical soldier, but a man not sure how to
comfort a woman, awkwardly putting an arm around her
shoulders after a pause, feeling her body shake with
huge gulping sobs. 

"You're in love with him," he said softly. "Aren't
you?" 

"I hate him," she managed over the tears. "I hate
him!" 

"You hate him and you love him and you don't ever want
to see him again, but you wish he was right here in my
place. Don't you?" 

Dorothy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand,
looking away. Etille wondered how the broken, dejected
young woman in front of him could be the proud lady
and commander of a few days ago. But then, she hadn't
been the same since he had returned�with Noin. 

"I've known Milliard�it seems like forever. Well,
known of him," she corrected herself. "I never knew
him, not even when I was in White Fang." 

"Do you know him now?" 

"I don't know," she said. Biting her lip. "I think�" 

He waited, but she shook her head. "Or maybe it's not
Milliard I know, but Zechs Merquise." 

Zechs Merquise. 

"I never married, you know," he said. "There was a
young lady in my class at the Academy�I always admired
her, but she seemed out of my reach. We were stationed
at the same base before she even learned my name. That
was�a long time ago." 

Dorothy had quieted beside him, sensing his
hesitation. He clenched his hands in front of him. She
had been beautiful�beautiful and sad. And so very
lonely. "She was killed in the Middle East�seventeen
years before the war began. She never told me goodbye.
I don't know if she ever knew how I felt about
her�there's always a hope, but she's dead now." 

"Who was she?" Dorothy questioned, her voice low. 

"Her name was�Alicia Catalonia." Didn't look at her as
he spoke the name. "She had your father's hair. Your
father's eyes. She was very beautiful." 

"My father's sister," Dorothy said. Her voice
quavered. "I never knew my father. My mother said that
my aunt had died before I was born�but she never said
how." 

"I wouldn't expect her to." 

"You knew my father?" 

"We were acquaintances. He respected me more for
knowing his sister than for being a soldier. Not that
it matters now." He shrugged. "That was a long time
ago." 

She regarded him intently. "Commander�do you enjoy
what you do?" 

His lip twisted. "I did. Once. It doesn't matter
anymore, does it?" 

"Causes don't stop mattering," she said again. "People
do." 

In the silence that followed he could feel a raindrop
spatter on his cheek, then another and another. "She
used to say that," he said at last. "I could never
understand it." 

"It's true," Dorothy said fiercely. Her eyes were
bright again, and she seemed to have decided something
in the few seconds in which he had mentioned Alicia's
name. 

"Do you believe it?" 

A pause. Alicia's ghost flitted across his mind again
as he watched her niece slowly step away from the
rock, turn towards him, considering. 

"I have troops to take care of," she said. "Have a
good day, Commander." 

He watched her go, standing straight and tall,
striding down the hill with the stride of newfound
confidence. 

Causes don't stop mattering. People do. 

He wondered when exactly Alicia had stopped mattering
to him. Or, if she had just begun to matter again. He
hadn't thought about her in years. Not until he had
met Dorothy. 

Alicia Catalonia was from Spain, the very ideal of a
Spanish beauty, elegant and seductive without
realizing it, and she had intoxicated him. Before she
died, he had given her his Academy class ring, and she
had promised to keep it with her, her Spanish voice
low and husky as she had held the ring with both
hands, Spanish eyes glimmering in the dark with tears.
He was French and she was Spanish, but that didn't
matter. 

He had loved her. He didn't know if she had loved him.


She had been a true soldier. 

It was after her death that everything had stopped
mattering. 

He pushed himself up from the rock, slowly, following
Dorothy's footsteps, stopping in front of the command
tent. He knew Noin was in there, and when he pushed
aside the heavy entrance flap, he saw her back hunched
over the light map. The computer in the corner was on,
the screen saver flickering. 

She looked up at his entrance. "Commander," she said,
nodding. She looked even more tired than Dorothy had.
"Nice of you to drop by." 

"Just some figures," he said. "Not a very pleasant
visit." 

She rubbed her left eye wearily. "No problem. Let me
take a look?" 

"Did you know," he said without preamble, "that
Dorothy Catalonia is in love with Milliard
Peacecraft?" 

It took a moment for his words to register, and he
watched as she frowned, gaped, and then frowned at him
again. 

"Where did you find that out?" 

"I'm an old man, Noin," he said. "Young people these
days show their feelings more often than they should."


Noin took the datapad from him, snatching it out of
his hand. "Dorothy and Milliard," she snapped, "are
none of your business." 

"So they aren't," he said. "I was just mentioning it."


"What would you do?" she asked suddenly. 

"About-?" 

"If you were in love with someone, and you knew that
someone knew, but did nothing�would you give up?" 

Alicia had been full-blooded Spanish, the tilt of her
full lips and the gestures of her slim hands speaking
of exotic beauty beyond his imagination. 

"I don't know," he said honestly. 

To his surprise, Noin uttered a tired laugh, placing
the datapad down on the light map, hands splayed out
over the holographic lines. "You're the experienced
one, Commander. I'm asking your advice." 

"I have no advice," Etille answered, "I have only what
I know, and what I am is a soldier." 

She was quiet. 

"What are you thinking, Noin?" 

"I wonder sometimes�" she said slowly, "if it's all
worth it." 

In that moment, he heard Alicia's voice. 

"Someone I used to know once said to me�causes don't
stop mattering. People do." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, as he
began walking to the door of the tent. 

"I'm not sure," he said. "I'll be the first to admit
that." 

"Do you believe it?" 

He smiled back at her. "I'm not sure either." 

The rain was coming down in scattered drizzles
outside, and he made the soggy trudge back up the hill
towards the camp and the warmth of his own tent. He
would have liked a daughter. They were such mysterious
creatures, women, child-like and ancient wisdom at the
same time, like fairies. 

Did you know that Dorothy Catalonia is in love with
Milliard Peacecraft? 

That had come out wrong. Because Dorothy Catalonia
wasn't in love with Milliard Peacecraft at all, but
just in those few minutes of conversations, she had
bared her soul to the world. She was in love with a
man who no longer existed, with someone who she could
never have because he was dead and gone from this
earth. 

Dorothy Catalonia loved Zechs Merquise. 

"Where did you go, Zechs Merquise?" Etille said,
looking up into the weeping sky and letting the rain
fall onto his closed eyelids. "What happened to you?" 

Alicia's face teased him from the insides of his eyes,
and he pushed her image away, opened his eyes, forced
himself to start walking. There was no time for the
past here, not now, not ever, because the past was
full of regrets. 

And Dermand Etille had too many regrets. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Scene VIII: Sins of the Father 
"Nanibito mo kataru koto nashi 
Nanigoto mo kataru koto nashi 
Tada kinou to iu tozasareta kurayami ni." 		
[No one has anything to tell] 
[There is nothing to be told] 
[Only in the sealed darkness known as yesterday.] 	
--Shoujo Kakumei Utena, Nanibito mo Kataru Koto Nashi
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

>From birth, if there was one thing Shinobu had
learned, it was that nothing came for free. Everything
cost something, whether it be time, or money, or even
blood.
 
Asking for his grandfather's help had been an
intensely desperate move, but he had promised the
Preventer general he would find Heero Yuy. And if
there was one thing Shinobu had sworn, it was he'd
never break a promise. He'd seen too many of them
broken in his short life, and he refused to ever let
that happen. His word was his life. 

Still, that didn't make this any easier. For Duo's
sake, he had re-entered a world he had sworn to
abandon, and he wasn�t sure exactly why. Duo had been
a good friend to him, but friendship only went so far.


He looked down at his hands, noting how he had bitten
his nails to the quick. It had always been a nervous
habit of his, and it had resurfaced recently. No bets
on why that had happened. He stared at his cuticles,
noticing how one of them was starting to bleed.
Perhaps he should- 

His thoughts were interrupted by a stick of chalk
rebounding off his head, and the titters of his
classmates. He jerked upright in his seat as a
scowling Professor Wood stalked towards him. 

Tension at the school had never been higher. Guards
were stationed all over the campus, and Shinobu had
noticed one Preventer agent shadowing him constantly.
It was reasonable, he supposed, when one considered
that Duo had been one of his friends. Add to that the
fact that he was a foreigner, and the entire student
body was aligned against him. 

He hated to think of what they would do if they knew
who he really was or what he was up to lately. 

Professor Wood stalked over, following the stick of
chalk he had just pegged at Shinobu. The boy didn't
even blink as the sensei leaned in close and began
ranting at him. He was used to it. 

If someone had asked him to describe Professor Wood in
one word, the immediate answer would be "xenophobic."
The teacher hated him with a passion, all on account
of his being Japanese. The school was supposedly
open-minded to other races and cultures, but sadly the
truth was far different from the policy. And Shinobu,
through no fault of his own, had become the favorite
whipping boy of the history teacher. 

The other students watched quietly as their teacher
lit into Shinobu for being lazy, stupid, not paying
attention, and having poor judgment. He had heard it
so much that he usually tuned it out, but today he had
finally reached the end of his rope. Without a word,
he packed his bookbag, rose to his feet, and left
without saying a word, while Wood-sensei continued to
threaten him. He didn't trust himself to speak. 

He walked out of the humanities building towards his
dorm, clutching his bag to his chest thoughtfully. He
was burning his bridges, but school seemed so...
unimportant in the scheme of things. He was a
confidant of Duo Maxwell, working for the Preventer
General Sally Po, and was likely going to have the
location of Heero Yuy in his possession in less then a
day. 

"Shin!" a voice called, and he tensed. Chris had been
in the same history class, and apparently had decided
to follow him. 

"Yes, Chris-san?" he said. 

Chris panted heavily to catch his breath, tucking some
of his bangs behind his ears. "Are you ok?" he asked.
His wide green eyes expressed concern. 
He was an innocent. 

"I am fine," he said harshly. 
"Really? Old Hickory is gonna get you thrown out of
school- you know he hates you. Why give him more
ammunition?" 

"School is the last thing on my mind." 

"It shouldn't be," Chris said softly. "You're going to
have to let go." 

"Just because you are angry with Helena, do not take
it out on me." 

Chris blinked. "Why do you think I'm mad at her?" 

"You have not talked to her about General Po." 

Chris' lips tightened. "The General had no right to
solicit your help, Shin. You're just a teenager." 

"So is Duo." 

Chris's eyes narrowed. He was clearly unhappy. "I'd
rather not talk about that. Duo... is a special case."


The two young men walked towards the dorm. "I am going
to see Helena later," Shinobu said. He considered it
polite to let his friend know, since Helena WAS his
girlfriend. 

Chris nodded stiffly. "I don't want to know." 

"She is your girlfriend. I thought you said you were
not mad at her." 

Chris said nothing. 

"You are not going to be able to keep her if you do
not show that you love her." 

Chris still remained quiet. 
"Chris-san, are you trying to make her break up with
you first?" 

"No!" Chris finally said vehemently. "It's just... it
may come to that. I won't -can't- do anything to
support a war. It's just not in me. I don't see how
you and Helena can do it- honestly I can't." They
reached the stairs of the dorm at that, and Chris
turned the other way, taking off at a fast walk. Shin
took the stairs to his second floor room, and unlocked
the door. 

Half the room was bare. His roommate, an Australian
exchange student, had been pulled out of the school by
his parents the day after the riots. The school wasn't
taking anymore students at the moment (for obvious
reasons) so Shinobu had the luxury of a single. It was
very nice, especially considering his clandestine
activities. He would have hated to have to explain
what he was doing to Ian. 

Checking his clock, he realized he had another three
hours before his scheduled contact time with his
grandfather. He didn't feel like going onto campus to
be harassed by other students, didn't want to do his
homework, and Helena was still in class. With a sigh
he decided that his homework was the lesser of all
evils, and cracked open his biology text. 

Sometimes he thought that the school's homework really
wasn't fair to him. No matter what subject he was
working on, he had to translate the text or assignment
first into his native language. He wasn't to the point
that he could think in English, which led to the
careful pauses before he spoke. His skills were much
better then they had been before he moved down to
Earth, but he still had a long way before he would be
completely fluent.. 

He was just moving into the second chapter when his
instincts, well honed by life on L1, alerted him to
the presence of someone else watching him. 

Helena leaned against the doorway, staring into his
room. "Have any luck?" she wanted to know. 

He looked at her, surprised at how much older she
seemed. Her cheeks had a gaunt, hollow look to them,
but her eyes were blazing sapphire gems. "Should you
not be in class?" he asked. 

She shrugged. "I'm too nervous. I cut. Professor
Haseltine won't care as long as I do the work." 

"Are you not worried about your grade point average
suffering?" he asked carefully. He knew she was in the
race for valedictorian, which was an honor she wanted
with a passion. She was ambitious.
 
She gave him a level stare. "Shinobu, at times like
this, the trivial things don't matter." 

"But we should continue our lives." 

Helena gave him a sad smile. "We gave that up when we
agreed to help General Po." 

I never had a life anyway, he thought, but didn't say
anything. 

"Anyway, stop trying to distract me. Shinobu, have you
made any progress?" she asked again. 

"I will be making contact with my source soon. They
should have something for me." 

"Can I stay?" she asked curiously, moving to take a
seat on the bed. 

His breath caught. "That would be most unwise. My
sources... aren't exactly good company. It is better
they know nothing of you." I'd hate to think of what
grandfather would do if he somehow gets his hands on
her. She's the daughter of some very influential
people. 

She looked worried. "Shinobu, you're not doing
anything.... illegal, are you?" 

Shinobu's laughter had a strangled quality to it. "I
am trying to track down a Gundam pilot. My sources are
questionable, but... we do have the permission of the
Preventers, so that should count for something." 

Helena nodded. "Be careful. I've lost Duo and Ilene- I
don't need to lose another friend." 

"I am always careful." 

Two hours later found him still in his room, though
this time he was by himself. Helena had been forced
out of the room, which he had quickly secured. He
pulled out the jammer he had acquired from one of his
grandfather's Yakuza contacts, and switched it on to
block the bugs which had been planted in his room. At
last count he had found three, all from apparent
different sources, but he wasn't willing to bet that
there were more. He was better then average, but the
people he was dealing with were professionals,
something he was not. 

He dialed the connection to his grandfather's humble
abode, then sat back taking deep breaths. I'm insane
to be doing this.... 

The harsh face of his grandfather appeared on the
screen. "Hello, ojiisan." 

"Hello, Takeru. I trust you are well?" 

"As well as can be expected," he answered. "Have you
had any luck?" 

His grandfather's eyes were hard and shuttered. "Yes.
I've located him." 

"Really? Can you tell me?" 

"Tell you?" 

Shinobu sighed. Everything has a price, he thought.
"What will it cost me?" 

The old man's lips spread in a grotesque smile, the
same smile that the devil wore before dragging another
soul to hell. "I want you." 

"What?!" he exclaimed. 

"Your father is dead, I have no other children, and
your older brother is, to be quite frank, a hopeless
idiot who's going to get himself killed- if I don't
kill him myself first. I need to pass the business on
through the family, and I don't want to use one of my
nephews. That leaves you." 

"What about my sister?" Shinobu's sister was brilliant
and politically minded, and would love being in charge
of the Black Diamond. 

"She is a woman." 

Stupid chauvinistic attitude, Shinobu thought
resentfully. "So if you let me know, I have to come to
you after this business is done to be your successor?"


"You come to me immediately." 

"After," Shinobu said insistently. "And you give me
whatever other information you can." 

His grandfather laughed. "As long as it doesn't
interfere with business here," Seki countered. 

Shinobu sighed. "I agree," he said softly, hoping he
wasn't making a mistake. 

"Takeru, I want you to seriously think this over. Once
I tell you, there's no going back." 

He was surprised; his grandfather sounded genuinely
concerned. "Grandfather..." 

His grandfather sighed. "I wanted to get you into the
family business, but not like this. You're playing
with fire, boy, and if you're not careful, you're
going to get burned." 

"Tell me. I need to know." 

"Heero Yuy has spent the last year living in the
Breaks." 

Shinobu wasn't surprised. "It's logical. Best place to
hide." 

"He was part of the assassin group Shadowwing." 

He shut his eyes slowly, feeling the blood pound. His
heartbeat quickened and he mentally thought a stream
of curious that would have made Duo proud. "So I'm
going to try to get an assassin down here. Won't that
look lovely on my school transcripts." 

"Takeru...." 

"Hai, hai.... so can you contact him for me? Do you
have one of your associates near him?" 

Seki Hikaru looked at his offspring with narrowed
eyes. "No. You didn't let me finish. Currently
Shadowwing is under contract to kill Chang Wufei, and
is in some part of China." 

"Shit!" 

"Takeru!" 

"I'm very sorry, ojiisan. I spoke without thinking. I
don't suppose you know who put the contract on Chang,
do you?" 

The old man smiled wickedly, and Shinobu's breath
caught. The man looking out at him wasn't just his
grandfather, but the most dangerous man in The Breaks.


"I did." 

END ACT 6.2

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