A lean body moved through the katas smoothly. Sweat gathered and dripped down the bronze chest. His face is set in concentration but blank at the same time.
/The same voice taunts him . . . her voice./
Who do you fight for?
/For the colonies/
Liar . . . who do you fight for
He grimly picked up a sword and began his excercises once again. Lips tightened, eyes narrowed his body once again picked up the internal rhythm. Leaving his mind free, to think of *her*
Who do you fight for
The same voice mocking him. It was never satisfied until he gave the right answer.
The same cycle, the same pattern, it never ceased.
His movements became choppier, more erratic. His face clenched tightly, as if in pain.
Are you sure?
Did you love her?
It was too late though . . . wasn't it?
He took the sword in a two handed group and swung at the air wildly, forgetting the exercise, forgetting everything but exorcising the voice that taunted him.
Do you fight in her memory . . .or to forget your guilt?
/ . . . for her of course/
The light rippling laugh ripped through his defenses.
You lie so easily. Isn't it her ghost that haunts you at night? Or her death?
/Both . . neither/
/I don't know! Leave me alone/
He threw the sword away in frustration. He began fighting with an imaginary opponent, sweat ran into his eyes, stinging. He ignored them. His chest rose and fell in rapid movements. His hoarse breathing was the only sign of life in the room.
It's her death that haunts you. You couldn't do anything could you? Do you think fighting now will solve anything. What can you do?
/I can fight for what she believed in./
Too late . . too late
But it's you that calls me. She doesn't exist anymore, except as a gravestone and in your memories
Grimly, he pushed his body to the limits. Lungs on fire, muscles stiffening, he continued to fight.
/She's here . . . with me, as long as I fight. As long as I can prove worthy of her memories/
Poor boy . . . aren't you lonely?
Chasing after a dead ghost . . .
Do you think anyone cares? Least of all her.
He collapsed on the wooden floor. Arms and legs trembling, he held himself up. Beads of sweat gathered on his face, he gasped for breath.
So tell me again, Chang Wufei. Who do you fight for?
/For my loved one, in her memory. I will fight./
The voice was unexpectedly solemn, abandoning its light mocking tone.
Can you really do it?
/I will try . . for her sake/
This time it sounded wistful, the thought brushed through his mind,
Well then, try.
He painfully drew himself into a sitting position. It was over.
Wufei stared up at his gundam. Carefully, he lay a hand on the gleaming metal. This was his to pilot, Shenlong. Peering up into the dark eyes of the mecha, he thought he saw . . . something glinting there.
He whispered reverently . . Nataku.
She was here to watch over him.
/I will prove myself in your eyes . . . Meiran/
He gently touched the metal again, for a moment . . . a warmth seemed to hum through the metal.
He *would* succeed in his mission to Earth.
*She* waited for him there.
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