(Gundam Wing) The Stars were Nameless as well (Prologue)
The Stars were Nameless as well
A Gundam Wing fanfiction written by Masamune Reforged
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters.
Rating/Warning: Mature audiences. Language, violence, a bit of slash (3x4)
Setting/Type: Multi-part, in-series, slice of life
Words: 807
Summary - Set during the time Trowa is missing. Focuses on the unknown characters who (might have) played a part in the events leading up to his return in the series. The stories of all the real nobodies, as pertains to their involvement with Trowa.
The prologue, however, is about Trowa.
Navigation: 00 01 02 03
The Stars were Nameless as well
Prologue - “The Nameless Boy”
The cold woke him, just as it had put him to sleep. He was cold. He was callously cold. Beyond the cold of a winter's night, the lashes of northern wind, the embracing arms of the ocean deep. The cold a rasping lung cannot digest. The cold a mind cannot comprehend. The cold a heart cannot beat through. He was cold, cold and alone.
Then he gazed around him and found that he was, in fact, not alone.
The stars were there.
Stars, countless legions of them. Small, impossibly hot dots of light flickering on the horizon of his vision. The source of all light and warmth in existence. Powerful, distant things all very alike one another. But, for him, they were equally impossible to tell apart. Just dots. Countless numbers of dots. Some brighter, some dimmer, some scattered, some clustered, but all the same, all nameless.
He wondered if he had once known their names and shivered.
He could not move much, but managed to turn, and it came into his sight. One star, so like the others, only much, much closer, made him close his eyes tight. Eyes shut, he could not block out the sting of light that seemed to burn him to his very core, but gave no warmth. Eyes shut, he could not muster the energy to open them again. The last thing he had seen was the glint of the star's light off of the space suit's transparent visor.
He wondered if, from the only star that mattered, if the light playing off his face was in any way distinguishable from the other myriad dots awash in the airless cold.
Faces.
A rugged boy with brown hair, yelling with burning intensity.
A beautiful boy with blond hair, crying out in drowning anguish.
A motherly girl with red hair, smiling at him with unbreakable affection.
He could see faces.
A severe brunette with glasses, shouting orders. A scowling soldier with curly hair, skulking. The rugged boy again. A silent Chinese boy. A loud mouthed American boy. A female soldier in military dress. A masked soldier in a heavy coat. The blond boy again. A man in a tent. A man in a mansion. A man on a computer screen. The girl with red hair.
He focused on the faces that came bubbling up from the black. He could not hold on to them, and he could not remember their names, but he saw them. They were there with him, an impossible number of them. They came faster and smaller, pushed together and running over one another. It was strenuous just to tell them apart, and he forced every little bit he had left to labor on the burdensome flood of faces.
Men, women, children. Large, small, old, newborn. Sitting, standing, moving, talking, still. Numberless and only mockingly similar, like unskilled dopplegangers.
The cold began to subside. The faces grew dimmer, began to slip away faster and faster.
A man in a white outfit, a man in a pool of blood, a man in fancy clothing.
The faces grew dimmer.
A young girl. A dead man. A man with a gun. A man with no legs.
He began to wonder if he was only imagining up these faces, these people.
The girl with red hair, much younger now, and through a haze of static so thick that he could not even be sure why he thought it was the same girl.
No. Not his imagination. Something else.
Because he could see some of them numerous times, in different places, doing different things.
The girl with red hair was cooking something in a small kitchen. The blond boy was playing a violin in a spacious study. The rugged boy was bleeding to death in the bed of a mobile suit carrier.
He had not imagined these things.
And then there was the boy with no name. None of them had names, but this one was the most baffling of them all. Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew this nameless boy had existed just as surely as the others. In fact, he could see him more than all the others put together.
Piloting a mobile suit, locking people in cells, firing a laser, assembling a bomb, cleaning a gun, buying apples, reading a list, changing bandages, petting an animal, driving a truck, playing a flute, repairing a computer, drinking, eating, killing, running, crying.
Who was this boy?
He did not know, but he almost could not care less about it.
He could hardly feel the cold anymore.
The boy was there with the others, with all of them. Talking with the rugged boy, being embraced by the blond boy, smiling at the girl with red hair.
It was warm.
What had been their names? He wondered idly.
He did not remember falling asleep, either.
-end “The Nameless Boy”
Prologue of
“The Stars were Nameless as well”
A Gundam Wing fanfiction written by Masamune Reforged
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters.
Rating/Warning: Mature audiences. Language, violence, a bit of slash (3x4)
Setting/Type: Multi-part, in-series, slice of life
Words: 807
Summary - Set during the time Trowa is missing. Focuses on the unknown characters who (might have) played a part in the events leading up to his return in the series. The stories of all the real nobodies, as pertains to their involvement with Trowa.
The prologue, however, is about Trowa.
Navigation: 00 01 02 03
The Stars were Nameless as well
Prologue - “The Nameless Boy”
The cold woke him, just as it had put him to sleep. He was cold. He was callously cold. Beyond the cold of a winter's night, the lashes of northern wind, the embracing arms of the ocean deep. The cold a rasping lung cannot digest. The cold a mind cannot comprehend. The cold a heart cannot beat through. He was cold, cold and alone.
Then he gazed around him and found that he was, in fact, not alone.
The stars were there.
Stars, countless legions of them. Small, impossibly hot dots of light flickering on the horizon of his vision. The source of all light and warmth in existence. Powerful, distant things all very alike one another. But, for him, they were equally impossible to tell apart. Just dots. Countless numbers of dots. Some brighter, some dimmer, some scattered, some clustered, but all the same, all nameless.
He wondered if he had once known their names and shivered.
He could not move much, but managed to turn, and it came into his sight. One star, so like the others, only much, much closer, made him close his eyes tight. Eyes shut, he could not block out the sting of light that seemed to burn him to his very core, but gave no warmth. Eyes shut, he could not muster the energy to open them again. The last thing he had seen was the glint of the star's light off of the space suit's transparent visor.
He wondered if, from the only star that mattered, if the light playing off his face was in any way distinguishable from the other myriad dots awash in the airless cold.
Faces.
A rugged boy with brown hair, yelling with burning intensity.
A beautiful boy with blond hair, crying out in drowning anguish.
A motherly girl with red hair, smiling at him with unbreakable affection.
He could see faces.
A severe brunette with glasses, shouting orders. A scowling soldier with curly hair, skulking. The rugged boy again. A silent Chinese boy. A loud mouthed American boy. A female soldier in military dress. A masked soldier in a heavy coat. The blond boy again. A man in a tent. A man in a mansion. A man on a computer screen. The girl with red hair.
He focused on the faces that came bubbling up from the black. He could not hold on to them, and he could not remember their names, but he saw them. They were there with him, an impossible number of them. They came faster and smaller, pushed together and running over one another. It was strenuous just to tell them apart, and he forced every little bit he had left to labor on the burdensome flood of faces.
Men, women, children. Large, small, old, newborn. Sitting, standing, moving, talking, still. Numberless and only mockingly similar, like unskilled dopplegangers.
The cold began to subside. The faces grew dimmer, began to slip away faster and faster.
A man in a white outfit, a man in a pool of blood, a man in fancy clothing.
The faces grew dimmer.
A young girl. A dead man. A man with a gun. A man with no legs.
He began to wonder if he was only imagining up these faces, these people.
The girl with red hair, much younger now, and through a haze of static so thick that he could not even be sure why he thought it was the same girl.
No. Not his imagination. Something else.
Because he could see some of them numerous times, in different places, doing different things.
The girl with red hair was cooking something in a small kitchen. The blond boy was playing a violin in a spacious study. The rugged boy was bleeding to death in the bed of a mobile suit carrier.
He had not imagined these things.
And then there was the boy with no name. None of them had names, but this one was the most baffling of them all. Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew this nameless boy had existed just as surely as the others. In fact, he could see him more than all the others put together.
Piloting a mobile suit, locking people in cells, firing a laser, assembling a bomb, cleaning a gun, buying apples, reading a list, changing bandages, petting an animal, driving a truck, playing a flute, repairing a computer, drinking, eating, killing, running, crying.
Who was this boy?
He did not know, but he almost could not care less about it.
He could hardly feel the cold anymore.
The boy was there with the others, with all of them. Talking with the rugged boy, being embraced by the blond boy, smiling at the girl with red hair.
It was warm.
What had been their names? He wondered idly.
He did not remember falling asleep, either.
-end “The Nameless Boy”
Prologue of
“The Stars were Nameless as well”