Hey guys. Remember me? I posted Spriggan fanfics waaaay back when until my step-dad banned me from it, but I still have some of my early fanfics on a disc, so I dug up my first ever Spriggan fanfic for those of you who remember and miss it. Heck, I might even re-post some of my old art on Deviant art. But for now, enjoy...
A/N: My first completed Spriggan fan fiction. It's short and sweet, and there's no yaoi or shounen-ai. Period. Also, if I do a fanfic continuation, this story will not be a part of it. Based on the movie, not the comics.
"Jean!" Ominae called out as he walked over the field. He had killed every soldier, but couldn't seem to find his fellow Spriggan. "Jean, where are you? Are you hurt?"
"Over here," a raspy voice managed to call out. Ominae followed this voice, wading through the grass that came nearly to his waist. When he finally did find Jean, he was shocked and chilled at the sight.
The French Spriggan was lying on his back, a puddle of blood forming around him. Three ripped holes were in his heavy blue jacket, and blood was sprayed on his clothing. Streams of blood were running out of his mouth and down his chin. Despite the great deal of pain he must have been in, he looked up at Ominae.
"There you are," Jean breathed, "You shouldn't worry me like that, Yu." He managed a snort. "It was stupid of me to worry though, eh?"
"Jean," Ominae whispered as he crouched beside him and pulled out his communicator. He contacted headquarters as quickly as he possibly could and told them about Jean's condition.
"Stay put," the soldier on the other end ordered. After a moment of silence he added, "And make sure that he's as comfortable as possible. Over."
"Roger," Ominae replied, "I'm leaving this on so that you can track me. Over and out." He seated himself in the grass beside Jean and took off his own jacket. He managed to get Jean's head onto his lap and put the jacket underneath for extra cushioning. The two were quiet for a long time, looking at the sky as the sun set. Ominae noticed with dread that Jean's face was becoming paler by the second.
At last, the sky was dark enough that the stars came into view. They were beautiful little diamonds scattered across the navy-blue heavens. As Jean looked up at them through the agony coursing through his veins, his clear sapphire eyes caught their reflection.
"They're beautiful," he admitted, "It's a shame that I never really looked at them before. Not that it matters." He added with some hesitation, "I'll be among them soon, Yu."
"Jean," Ominae gasped, "Don't say that. You'll be okay. Just... hang in there."
Jean smirked. "Don't be a fool Ominae. Even if they do get here before..." it was a struggle for him to speak now, "I won't last long after we reach the infirmary."
Ominae was silent. He knew that Jean was right. He just didn't want to admit that he was loosing his best friend. Even though they were both soldiers, it hadn't ever sounded like something that would happen to him. It happened to other people, but not Ominae Yu. Jean wouldn't die… he couldn't. He was too strong, wasn't he?
"Ominae," Jean managed to gasp out, his voice breaking the still silence that hung on the air, "There is something... that I must tell you. I wanted you to know that... despite everything I've said... everything we've done... You are like my little brother." He closed his eyes, gathering breath and strength to finish what he was saying. "You needed an older brother, Yu... and my role as that brother has ended."
"I always wanted a brother," Ominae whispered hoarsely. "Jean, you were the best one I could ever have hoped for." Tears came to his eyes and a lump grew in his throat.
"Losing everything..." Jean whispered, "My home... my family… my future as a normal person… being taken and trained by ARCAM… it was all worth it… to watch you become a man…" Jean coughed, blood spurting from his pink lips. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes against one final wave of pain.
"Jean?" Ominae whispered. "Jean!" He lifted the Frenchman's head a little, but there was no response. "Jean!" Ominae screamed. He coughed and choked, blinking rapidly to keep tears from escaping. He was a soldier, after all. He couldn't cry.
The Japanese boy lifted Jean's unmoving, breathless form into his arms, burying his head in the blood-stained chest, ignoring the sticky red smears on his face and clothing. He lifted his head and looked out over the field. His vision blurred as tears, unchecked, rolled down his face and off his chin, dripping onto Jean's face and hair.
He sobbed so hard that his whole body shook, and he held Jean to his chest, practically screaming in his grief. His gloved fingers became tangled in the glossy golden tresses, but Jean couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. No more sadness, no more anger, no more irritation, and no more pain. Ominae knew that he should have been happy for Jean, but happiness would have to wait for another day. Right then it hurt too much.
"Jean," he choked, tightly embracing his friend's empty shell, "Why? Why did you leave me? I've never had… someone like you. Even though you yelled at me and pushed me around, I realize now that I enjoyed every second of that. Maybe you'd be mad at me for crying now, perhaps you'd get angry because I'm sitting here sulking; but I don't care what you would have to say, because you aren't here to say it." He pressed the still warm body even closer to him. "I'm going to miss you... Big Brother..."
The soldiers showed up eventually, somewhat amazed that Ominae was holding Jean's body as he was. His eyes were dark and he refused to look at any of them, or let them take Jean from him. He marched alongside them, cradling Jean's form as if the older Spriggan were still living and breathing. At last as he walked he looked up at the stars. A shooting star soared across the heavens, at a speed that Ominae knew only one being could accomplish. Jean was happier than he had ever been, and he had wanted Ominae to know that.
All characters belong to Hiroshi Takashige, Ryoji Managawa, and Shogakukan, Inc. Used without permission and without the intent of profit.