Phoenix for backtothesea
Title: Phoenix
Recipient: backtothesea
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: A nameless boy gets his first taste of something powerful.
Author’s Note: The prompt asked for a gen fic about Trowa's backstory. I came up with this. I hope it's kind of what you wanted :)
Author: scacao
The boy sat at the edge of the fire, wrapped in a threadbare blanket meant for stowing weapons. He was cold, and beginning to come down with something, he suspected, but he wasn’t planning to tell that to any of the men. He was aware they considered him something like a burden, a kid buzzing around a mercenary encampment like a mosquito, and the last thing he planned to do was give the impression they needed to take care of him. Besides, it wasn’t like they had any medicine around anyway.
He was here because he was good at repairs, something he had been surprised to discover about himself. A good portion of these men were mercenaries, and not soldiers, because they could barely read the controls of their mobile suits, let alone fix them. He had made himself useful, and that had made them overlook his age. He wasn’t sure himself how old he was, but he was young enough that some of the men looked uncomfortable when he handled a gun, so he knew he was young enough for it to be a problem.
For the most part, though, the men didn’t know how to treat a kid, so they treated him like an adult instead. They didn’t ask him his name. They didn’t bother to ask him why he didn’t have one.
He had been here a month and was starting to get the hang of shooting targets. Once, he had heard a rustle in the trees nearby and shot a bird right out of them. He enjoyed using the weapons, but when he thought about the possibility of using them against people, he just felt numb. Some of the men enjoyed it, he could tell. They liked the act of killing. He sometimes wondered if he would become one of those men someday.
The boy stared into the fire, letting the darkness of impending evening settle around him. He had had the dream again last night, and thought maybe it was the fever coming on. It was keeping him awake, now, turning in his mind. In the dream, he rode on the back of a great orange bird, a phoenix, that screamed as it tore across the sky. Together, they traversed landscapes he had never seen in his life, great floes of ice, endless seas of sand. The bird spoke to him in his dream, or it felt like it did, whispering within his mind. It told him he was the only person who could control it, who it would allow to ride it. Atop its gleaming metal body, it said, he would be invincible. The dream filled him with terrifying elation, stronger than he had ever felt before.
Awake, he wondered what was wrong with him, that he carried such delusions of grandeur. He was an anonymous boy, a nameless orphan, tagging along with a band of starving, mercenary thugs. There was nothing special about him, let alone invincible. But the emotions of the dream lingered in his thoughts when he was awake, and beneath his stoic exterior, he felt terribly anxious, like he was waiting for something to come, but he didn’t know what it might be.
He was brought out of his thoughts by a whispered grunt directed at him.
“Hey kid.”
It was one of the mercenaries, standing a few feet away from the fire, wiping oil off his hands onto his stained jacket. His name was... Greene, the boy remembered, and he was the most adept at handling the second-hand mobile suits the mercenary troop used in battle. The boy suspected he might have been a soldier once, but just like they didn’t ask him about his name, he never asked the men about their pasts. Greene cocked a finger at him and beckoned him over. Reluctantly, he left the warmth of the fire and the blanket and made his way to the man.
“I’ve been watching you lately, kid,” Greene said when he was near. “You’re really good with a weapon.”
The boy allowed himself a small bit of pride to well within him. He nodded.
“You’re good around a mobile suit, too. I’ve been thinking...”
He looked around the clearing to see if any men might be watching their conversation. Apparently satisfied, he continued.
“I’ve been thinking, you’d be great in a mobile suit. I mean as a pilot.”
Greene gave the revelation a moment to sink in.
“I took one of the old Leos out a mile or so away from the camp. What do you say? You want to give it a shot?”
It was one thing to hand him a weapon and give him some shooting practice. This... this was another matter entirely. He felt a wholly unfamiliar nervousness set in his stomach.
Of course he wanted to give it a shot. He had never wanted to try anything more in his life.
“Okay,” he said.
He followed Greene quietly away from the encampment, the two of them eventually coming upon a clearing where the Leo stood in wait, a sleeping titan.
“Go on, get in,” Greene said.
The boy walked up to the suit, putting his hands on the smooth metal of its flanks. It was too old for Alliance use any more, but it was still a fine machine. A bit above his head, he saw the latch for the mechanism to bring down the ladder that lead into the cockpit.
He turned back to the mercenary watching a few yards away.
“Why are you letting me do this?”
Greene seemed surprised by the question. For a while, he didn’t respond.
“You’re not just a regular kid,” he said at last. “There’s something special about you. Something... we may have been looking for a long time.”
Who? The mercenaries? The boy looked at Greene for further clarification, but he appeared to have said all he intended to say. It didn’t matter anyway. All he wanted to do was try and pilot this machine.
He pulled open the latch and activated the ladder, still having to strain to reach for it when it was fully deployed. He scrambled up into the cockpit, taking a long look around its dark interior before quickly moving to the pilot’s seat. He had been inside a few Leos for maintenance, but had never sat in one, never wrapped his hands around the controllers like this. They felt large in his hands, meant for an adult, but still comfortable, still natural. He reached for the ignition button on the dashboard control panel and felt the Leo hum to life around him, the cockpit suddenly awash in green light. It was fully night outside by now, and all he saw through the eyes of the Leo was darkness.
From somewhere behind the mobile suit, he heard Greene shouting to him.
“Why don’t you just try walking around today? Don’t over do it!”
Instead, he shifted the controller in his right arm forward and up, raising it straight out. He curled its fingers around the trigger of the gun in its hand, feeling the tension run throbbing up his own arm. Aiming for the trees he knew to be somewhere in front of him, he let loose a volley of bullets, the sound echoing around the forest, ringing in his ears. It was a beautiful, clean sound.
A hundred yards away, a tree burst into flames. Right on the mark.
Somewhere inside him, the phoenix roared.
Recipient: backtothesea
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: A nameless boy gets his first taste of something powerful.
Author’s Note: The prompt asked for a gen fic about Trowa's backstory. I came up with this. I hope it's kind of what you wanted :)
Author: scacao
The boy sat at the edge of the fire, wrapped in a threadbare blanket meant for stowing weapons. He was cold, and beginning to come down with something, he suspected, but he wasn’t planning to tell that to any of the men. He was aware they considered him something like a burden, a kid buzzing around a mercenary encampment like a mosquito, and the last thing he planned to do was give the impression they needed to take care of him. Besides, it wasn’t like they had any medicine around anyway.
He was here because he was good at repairs, something he had been surprised to discover about himself. A good portion of these men were mercenaries, and not soldiers, because they could barely read the controls of their mobile suits, let alone fix them. He had made himself useful, and that had made them overlook his age. He wasn’t sure himself how old he was, but he was young enough that some of the men looked uncomfortable when he handled a gun, so he knew he was young enough for it to be a problem.
For the most part, though, the men didn’t know how to treat a kid, so they treated him like an adult instead. They didn’t ask him his name. They didn’t bother to ask him why he didn’t have one.
He had been here a month and was starting to get the hang of shooting targets. Once, he had heard a rustle in the trees nearby and shot a bird right out of them. He enjoyed using the weapons, but when he thought about the possibility of using them against people, he just felt numb. Some of the men enjoyed it, he could tell. They liked the act of killing. He sometimes wondered if he would become one of those men someday.
The boy stared into the fire, letting the darkness of impending evening settle around him. He had had the dream again last night, and thought maybe it was the fever coming on. It was keeping him awake, now, turning in his mind. In the dream, he rode on the back of a great orange bird, a phoenix, that screamed as it tore across the sky. Together, they traversed landscapes he had never seen in his life, great floes of ice, endless seas of sand. The bird spoke to him in his dream, or it felt like it did, whispering within his mind. It told him he was the only person who could control it, who it would allow to ride it. Atop its gleaming metal body, it said, he would be invincible. The dream filled him with terrifying elation, stronger than he had ever felt before.
Awake, he wondered what was wrong with him, that he carried such delusions of grandeur. He was an anonymous boy, a nameless orphan, tagging along with a band of starving, mercenary thugs. There was nothing special about him, let alone invincible. But the emotions of the dream lingered in his thoughts when he was awake, and beneath his stoic exterior, he felt terribly anxious, like he was waiting for something to come, but he didn’t know what it might be.
He was brought out of his thoughts by a whispered grunt directed at him.
“Hey kid.”
It was one of the mercenaries, standing a few feet away from the fire, wiping oil off his hands onto his stained jacket. His name was... Greene, the boy remembered, and he was the most adept at handling the second-hand mobile suits the mercenary troop used in battle. The boy suspected he might have been a soldier once, but just like they didn’t ask him about his name, he never asked the men about their pasts. Greene cocked a finger at him and beckoned him over. Reluctantly, he left the warmth of the fire and the blanket and made his way to the man.
“I’ve been watching you lately, kid,” Greene said when he was near. “You’re really good with a weapon.”
The boy allowed himself a small bit of pride to well within him. He nodded.
“You’re good around a mobile suit, too. I’ve been thinking...”
He looked around the clearing to see if any men might be watching their conversation. Apparently satisfied, he continued.
“I’ve been thinking, you’d be great in a mobile suit. I mean as a pilot.”
Greene gave the revelation a moment to sink in.
“I took one of the old Leos out a mile or so away from the camp. What do you say? You want to give it a shot?”
It was one thing to hand him a weapon and give him some shooting practice. This... this was another matter entirely. He felt a wholly unfamiliar nervousness set in his stomach.
Of course he wanted to give it a shot. He had never wanted to try anything more in his life.
“Okay,” he said.
He followed Greene quietly away from the encampment, the two of them eventually coming upon a clearing where the Leo stood in wait, a sleeping titan.
“Go on, get in,” Greene said.
The boy walked up to the suit, putting his hands on the smooth metal of its flanks. It was too old for Alliance use any more, but it was still a fine machine. A bit above his head, he saw the latch for the mechanism to bring down the ladder that lead into the cockpit.
He turned back to the mercenary watching a few yards away.
“Why are you letting me do this?”
Greene seemed surprised by the question. For a while, he didn’t respond.
“You’re not just a regular kid,” he said at last. “There’s something special about you. Something... we may have been looking for a long time.”
Who? The mercenaries? The boy looked at Greene for further clarification, but he appeared to have said all he intended to say. It didn’t matter anyway. All he wanted to do was try and pilot this machine.
He pulled open the latch and activated the ladder, still having to strain to reach for it when it was fully deployed. He scrambled up into the cockpit, taking a long look around its dark interior before quickly moving to the pilot’s seat. He had been inside a few Leos for maintenance, but had never sat in one, never wrapped his hands around the controllers like this. They felt large in his hands, meant for an adult, but still comfortable, still natural. He reached for the ignition button on the dashboard control panel and felt the Leo hum to life around him, the cockpit suddenly awash in green light. It was fully night outside by now, and all he saw through the eyes of the Leo was darkness.
From somewhere behind the mobile suit, he heard Greene shouting to him.
“Why don’t you just try walking around today? Don’t over do it!”
Instead, he shifted the controller in his right arm forward and up, raising it straight out. He curled its fingers around the trigger of the gun in its hand, feeling the tension run throbbing up his own arm. Aiming for the trees he knew to be somewhere in front of him, he let loose a volley of bullets, the sound echoing around the forest, ringing in his ears. It was a beautiful, clean sound.
A hundred yards away, a tree burst into flames. Right on the mark.
Somewhere inside him, the phoenix roared.