Part II Doushode Laoshi

Wu Fei snarled, climbing up to his Gundam machine. He opened the door to the cockpit and jumped in, his eyes full of anguish. He gasped as a shot landed next to his arm, almost hitting him. He turned around and looked down at the person that had shot. It was the Federation infiltration's leader.

"Is this the secret weapon you were building, rebels?" the man yelled. "A Gundam Machine?" He began to laugh, yet his eyes could betray his awe at the sight of such a great machine. It loomed over him like a god, impressive. The leader had never imagined simple scientists to recreate the invincible gundanium and build such a fantastic Mobile Suit. The man's eyes burned with a sudden hatred.

He laughed harder, watching the room become engulfed in flames, the machines destroyed, the paper plans burning along with the flesh of those who had dared create them. He laugher harder still as he caught the look on Wu Fei's face. The boy stared blankly at the hangar amidst the fire, his small eyes almost blind.

Wu Fei felt his soul dying as he looked across the hangar, realizing that the rebels were dead. Each one shot before they could get away. The young boy gasped, feeling his eyes harden, his trained sight searching for the professor, but he couldn't find him. All he found were the stares of the Federation soldiers, looking at him with mock defiance.

Wu Fei clenched his fists and bowed his head. he jumped inside the cockpit, ignoring the commands the soldier was giving him. He cried like a wounded animal as he jerked the machine to a start, his trained hands working with immense dexterity. He heard the Federation leader laugh again, but he blocked him away. A small smile had formed on his lips as well.

He heard the small noise of the soldier's fire arms against the legs on the Gundam machine, pitiful against the gundanium. He laughed as the soldiers drew back, amazed at their ineffectiveness, their faces angered.

"The driver must be dead!" their leader yelled. "This crazed boy doesn't know how to use the controls."

Wu Fei grinned as he raised the Mobile Suit's massive arms, raising the powerful machine to its full size. The machine's arm, shaped like a dragon's head, opened its mouth. And fire shot through it.

"Bakayaro da!" Wu Fei screamed. "I am the pilot!"

The soldiers screamed as the fire ate them, the incredible Golden Dragon crushing their bodies. The soldiers, the leader among them, screamed louder, death upon them, their bodies scorched by the flames. Wu Fei looked at them silently, at their withering bodies without pity. His soul serene as he piloted the Dragon of Death.

"None of you must live, Federation cowards."

The hangar began to melt under the incredible flames, the metal ceiling falling, the scientific machines began to explode, the fire and smoke dancing madly under the Dragon's rage. The bodies of both the professors and the intruders melted in the flames, hideously deformed.

The hangar was completely destroyed in a few minutes, only a few stairs and walls remaining intact, the bodies blackened against the walls.

Wu Fei smashed himself on his monitor, a sob escaping his body. They were dead, all of them, dead. The family he had grown to love for this past months. The builders of the freedom dream, of the revolution. None of them had witnessed their operation in action, not even before their deaths. The young boy brushed the tears on his cheeks, angered that he'd cried.

The latch of his cockpit opened loudly, its sound echoing loudly in the empty hangar. Echoing... echoing...

Wu Fei leaned his body against the Gundam's leg, fighting to regain courage to think about what this destruction meant. Suddenly, his head jerked to the left, his ponytail hitting his face as it did. He had heard a soft whimper.

He held his breath trying to follow the voice up a tattered stair case. His heart stopped as he reached the top. On the last step, black and bleeding, lay the hand on the professor. It moved feebly.

The boy frowned, moving closer to the old man, bending down next to him. He felt his eyes sting, realizing the old man was agonizing yet.

"Gomen nasai..."

"N-Naze... desu ka?" Wu Fei gasped, his mind hardly believing that the old man could talk while almost dead. He reached down to do as the scientist was telling him and helped the old man to a sitting position. He fought hard not to break under the grief, as he brought the old man up. He buried his head into the man's chest, his heart breaking at last.

The scientist's bloody hand enfolded his shoulders, holding him near. The boy felt the old man's harsh breathing in his chest. He tried to understand what the old man was saying, but his speech was all garbled and wheezed.

"I told you, b-boy... that... you needed to be ready to.. to d-die in this operation..."

The old man laughed weakly, looking at Wu Fei's grim smile. The professor whipped the trail of blood that ran down his mouth, and instructed the boy to help him to his feet, leaning hard on the boy.

"Those bastard Federation..." he wheezed. "they ruined our beautiful hideout. I-it's all gone now..."

Wu Fei nodded. He held the old man steady, frowning to himself. He felt a strange stillness in his own chest, but ignored it, listening to the old man talk. Suddenly, the old man's hand gripped him stronger, telling him to stop. Wu Fei's senses froze.

The professor jerked his head to the left. He screamed and dived back, into the wall. he pulled Wu Fei's body with him roughly, knocking the breath out of the boy.

The shot hit one of the metal hand rails that they had just been about to use.

Wu Fei's head hit the wall, pain shooting through his spine, blinding him. He tried to control himself, but his hands refused to listen as they clawed the wall desperately. He expected the killer to shoot again, as they stood trapped by the wall. The professor's hot, harsh breathing hit his ear, the old man's bloody hand gripping his wrist. Holding him from getting killed. Wu Fei closed his eyes.

He could feel the killer moving, reloading the gun, grinning at the pinned animals he had caught. The dream was dying. Just like those who created it. Wu Fei's eyes flew open, his breath quicker than before, his pupils dilated like a madman. He could sense the professor's chest moving madly, striving not to die. His own body lost and afraid, crying out to be alive. It wanted to live. Wu Fei's inhuman looking eyes searched for a way to escape. He gasped.

There was the sound of the gun cocking in the darkness.

"Enough!"

The darkness became red, a flash of silver lighting. The boy screamed, his voice horrible in the darkness.

The shot rang again in the darkness. The professor cried out, his body smashing against the wall.

The Federation soldier's body fell with a loud thud to the floor, it's head baring a horrible whole. The young boy thin body collapsed backwards, falling into the old man's feet, his eyes rolled backwards in terrible pain. The boy's hand covered his stomach, were the shot had penetrated, dark blood caking his hands. The professor struggled to his feet, dragging his sorry shape to the boy's side, putting his gun on the cold floor.

"Why child?" he said, his voice ragged, old and unable to go on for much longer. "Why did you do this?" He brought Wu Fei's body against his own. The boy looked at him, blood gurgling out from his mouth.

"I-I'm ready... professor... to b-begin Operation... M-Meteor..." He smiled, his face twisted in pain, his dark eyes no longer seeing anything.

"I-I'm ready to... die..."

The night wind had picked up, the leaves on the Gingko trees outside rustling madly, the branches brushing against the paper windows. The sound of her wooden rocking chair the only other noise in the room. She folded her hands on her lap, stooping the small prayer she had been chanting over and over in her head.

There was someone at the door.

Her bare feet moved fast on the floor, her old woman's pace mild as she reached the door. The knocking came again. She unlocked the door, mumbling about the need for patience with old folks.

Her breath died in her throat, her small scream frozen in her lips as her hands fell, like stones, to her sides. The light from her house ran outside into the steps and into the porch, watching over the old man that now stood there, his long jacket concealing his face, and the small boy he carried in his arms.

"He's not dead."

The old man walked into her small living room, closing the door with his foot as he came in. He removed his shoes hastily, tossing them to a corner and walked past her as if he lived there too. The old woman frowned at such an invasion. She turned to face him, angered, but with eyes full of worry. She wrung her old hands together, her eyes becoming tearful. The old man turned around to face her.

"How dare you, sir." The old lady drew closer, her fear residing, as angered replaced it. The old man smiled, his slanted eyes worried as well, his legs about to give way beneath him, the child heavy in his arms.

"Wu Fei has spoken of no other home but this one, so I brought him here."

The old woman frowned, her eyes narrowing. She cursed her stars, but Wu Fei moaned in the old man's arms. She gasped, her heart aching. She wanted to kill the old man, wanted to slap his strange looking face for all he had done to the boy. How dare him come to her house like that. She felt her eyes glaze as she looked at her grandson's face, twisted in pain, caked blood temple on his temples.

"I hate you," she said.

the wooden floor and white paper walls echoed darkly, her voice croaking. The old man blinked in silence.

He felt his body fall to one side, his left leg giving in under his heavy frame and the child's weight. The old lady clenched her fists tighter, her grief twisting her face.

The old man turned, leaving her staring at his back as he headed for the only room with a bed; hers. She followed him, her steps hurried. He closed his eyes, pain engulfing his whole leg and moaned as he put Wu Fei's body in her bed. The child moaned as he was laid on the silky covers. The old man let his body collapse on the bed, his face twisted in pain, and reached down to rub his leg, grimacing.

The old woman walked in, starring hotly at the old man, her teeth gritted. He let his hurt body lie back on her mattress, his head falling wearily on her pillow. She'd break her his skull for this, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Were was her courage now that she wanted to make that evil man pay ? She drew closer to Wu Fei's still body, her hands reaching maternally for him. The old man's closed eyes opened slightly, looking at her as he pretended to sleep.

She was murmuring an old Buddhist prayer, her lips moving fast and feverishly, her eyes wet with sorrow. She had known, he concluded, what the boy had been up to. She, no doubt, never expected to open her door one night to find him and her grandson in the shape they were in. His smile wearily. The old woman had reasons to feel this way, not to trust him, to grief like this. She bent down over the boy's body, her hands caressing his forehead, her nose reddened as tears fell down her cheeks.

"He's a courageous child," he said. She didn't look at him, but he could tell she was listening. "There is a force in him that I cannot understand... I wish I were a bit more like him: ready to die."

The old woman turned to look at him, her eyes hard and angry. "This little boy should never have been in that place getting killed--" He stared at her, his temples beginning to throb.

"It's always someone else, Obasama," he said "someone else suffers. someone else dies. Someone else fight."

"Monster," she said. He drew up from her bed. "He's too young, too fragile."

"No"

Both of them let the word fall heavy on the floor. The bamboo outside hit the paper windows as the wind picked up once more. The paper lanterns danced madly, the chimes loud like brass bells. She clenched her hands, noticing that he now leaned on the walls, his eyes narrowed, his free hand absentmindedly rubbing his leg. He raised his head, his old eyes like mirrors to a world. A world that she had always believed too far away to touch her. She gasped silently, refusing to fall out of control, to pity the scientist, to care.

"Obasama, onegai," he said. "Please. Federation soldiers came to our lab and killed all of the other scientists and engineer. They destroyed the lab, and we were the only survivors. We and the machine--"

She cursed under her breath. "I wish they'd killed you."

The old man's eyes begged silently. "Obasama, we are dying."

The wind storm had picked up outside, beating strongly against the house. The rafters were making terrible noise, and the chimes seemed insane. It had begun to rain, the night air cold and hostile.

She closed the windows, drawing the curtains over it. The child lay just as she had put him, after giving him a bath, on her bed, his eyes closed. She dimmed the red light on the night table.

"Why, Wu shao ?" She turned around to look at the old man, who had come in limping with his cane. She lowered her eyes, resting her hands on the bed. He smiled, looking at the boy.

The scientist had been right. Both men would have died if she had not cared for them in time. She had bitten her tongue as she had cared for him, her face devoid of feelings, her eyes darkened. She had worked mechanically, the ancient heeling knowledge she possessed helping her. She cleaned the old man's wounds, sown them, and washed in iodine. He had been quiet, looking at her as she worked in silence, respectful. She had stripped herself of her pride as she cleaned his blood.

She had fought hard not to loose her control over her emotions as she undressed Wu Fei and had discovered the huge bloody gap on his chest. She had cursed her ill fate as she cleaned him, aware that the old man was looking at her from the chair were he lay. She had bathed him on her tub, her heart like a solid rock on her chest, her hands scrubbing away the filth that covered his body. He fought hard to keep his head up as she washed him, but he had lost so much blood that he felt too weak. His small arms sagged in her arms, almost like a dead man, but his dark eyes were conscious of her work. She silenced him as he had tried to talk, barely a mumble.

The old man had stood by the door to the bathroom, watching her as she battled to clean the boy who fell limply on her arms. He had come closer to her, reaching down into the tub to grasp the boy's naked chest as held him up. Wu Fei's head had fallen thankful into the old man's tender grip. She had been about to complain, but she noticed her grandson's new found strength, the old man's hands, and she had fallen silent.

The scientist had lifted the boy's body from the tub, taking him up on his arms while she fished a towel and wrapped him. She had taken her grandson from him, almost roughly, but he had only smiled and handed her a towel for her face.

Then, he had left her alone in the room, walking off to a couch by the statue shrine. He had stared silently at the old photograph of the woman's son on the shrine. She had been grateful that he had left her alone with her grandson. She had brushed back the hair on his face, listening to the garbled things he was saying, half talking in dreams.

He had taken her hand, speaking nonsense, still choked by the pain, his voice barely a whisper, then he had fallen asleep. Watching his small lips pressed tightly, she had let her tears fall, her anguish over whelming her.

She shook her head now, brought back from the memory. The old man was talking to her, his old drooling speech echoing in the room. It was almost midnight.

"Use this," he said.

She looked at him as he produced a small bottle from one of the pockets in his jacket. She wondered how long, and why, the old man would carry such a beautifully decorated bottle in his jacket. She took the small thing quietly.

"It's florid alcohol water," he explained. "Rub his body with it."

The old man sat on a small wooden chair by the door, looking at the boy's breathing and taking in with his scientific mind the condition the boy was in. The old woman was looking down at him, wondering whether she should trust the bottle to be safe.

"It's to drive away bad spirits, " he said. Those that threaten to take his soul." He was looking at Wu Fei like only a father would do, his small dark eyes proud of everything the small boy had endured for the Operation, feeling in his heart a sense of pride that he'd been able to meet the young boy. The old lady brushed some of the white hair from her face, her mouth drawn tight. He was smiling at her, sharing a paternal joy she would never understand.

Obasan ran a hand down Wu Fei's body, covered by the bed sheets. Too long. She has lived too long to forget that it can be painful to die. She sat down and drew the sheets from the boy's chest, removing his shirt. She saw the boy's eyes open slightly, a soft smile on them. Obasan bit her lip, chanting so that Death's look would leave her grandson's face and opened the bottle. She rubbed the water over his bare chest, its soft aroma filling her nostrils and the room. She saw Wu Fei's skin recuperate some colour, his lips smiling wider as the smell went into his lungs. She rubbed him stronger, her old hands forcing Death away from the child's body.

The Old man was looking at her silently, mumbling absentmindedly to himself, watching her as her able hands worked on the boy. He coughed, the silence broken by his coarse throaty whimpers. Obasan turned to look at him, but there was something in the way she now looked at him. She was searching for a reason, a reason for the old man to care for Wu Fei, other than because he had trained him.

"You don't trust me," he said, lowering his eyes. "Still, thank you for your cares, Obasama." She nodded, her grey hair falling into her face again. He stood up from the chair, arranging the folds on his jacket taking care to close all the pockets one by one. He softened all the wrinkles the jacket had so carefully that the old lady began to wonder whether that was the old man's secret madness. He wasn't paying attention to her now, only to his task. He was a very weird old man, she though. She was old enough to recognize insanity. When he looked at Wu Fei, his eyes shone with a strange light, one that revealed other worlds, other feelings. Death and Life. She was fearful, because she had seen the same light on her grandson's eyes, as he fell asleep.

The smell of the florid water filled the whole room, drawing the evil away. Crushed flowers on an ancient tomb's water. Obasan looked up at the old man as he leaned back on one of the walls, staring at her again. People like her, he though, would get in the Operation's way. He nodded to himself. She was the boy's grandmother, it was only logical that she'd act as she was. He remembered the many times Wu Fei and him had discussed the day when he'd leave for earth. He'd wanted to say goodbye to his grandmother, that had been his only wish. This professor had admired the boy's honour and had valued his promise. Looking at the old woman's wrinkled face, so much like her son's and her grandson's, there came a strange, dark glow to his old eyes. This was the last goodbye.

Obasan covered the bottle and drew the covers over the boy, taking his small white hands and placing them over the sheets. Her tired, hurting back ached as she got up from the bed. She turned around to face the old man, her face blank, her eyes tired. She startled as he lay a hand on her shoulder, holding in a gasp. Such a bold cat from him made her angry, but in her eyes, he saw, there was no longer the same hatred. She remained silent, grateful, in a way, that she was not alone.

"There are times for brave people," he said. She gave him back the bottle, which he placed on his pockets again, closing three buttons over it.

"Thank you, kind Obasama."

"He took that bullet for you, didn't he?"

He laughed softly, tapping the cane on the wooden floor. She raised an eyebrow, as he stopped and looked at her again.

"Yes he did," he said. "He's more of a man than I was his age. His mind is so much older than his body betrays. No matter how many times the soldier fired, or much I begged for him to stop, he wouldn't. He kept going."

Obasan lowered her eyes, ashamed at the foolish way she had acted towards the old man, at her own insecurities. She was a shamed woman, not to see what the spirits and fate had chosen for her grandson.

She walked out from the room, him following her slowly. Her head bowed she walked over to the small shrine she had always kept for the dead, for her son and his wife. She stood silently before it, not paying attention to the old man as he sat on one of the rocking chairs behind her. The small shrine was full of both dead and living flowers, darkened except for a small yellow candle, and filled with bean rosaries.

Obasan looked at the yellow photograph in the middle and reached to touch the small chi cue leaves next to it, feeling her eyes well with tears. The young man on the photo, his dark slanted eyes silent, reverent, so much like Wu Fei's, his mouth set tight, his long hair tied in a small, thin braid over his chinese dress, seemed to look back at her. She wanted to cry out to him, but could only whisper.

"Fate calls strong to your son, erzi," she said, running her fingers on the photo. She stared at the young chinese woman on the photo next to his, her lovely dark eyes smiling, her small face so much like Wu Fei's when the child smiled. The old woman brushed her tears, turning to face the old man, who had been looking at her silently.

"Like his father, Wu Fei is a strong young man," she said, her voice deep in the room. The old man nodded, and smiled, her dark eyes grateful that she had released the boy from his grief. Her soul became free from her body as she smiled back at him, her mind at ease at last. She bowed at both her son and his wife, her soul finding a peace. She saw the professor admire her as she displayed such reverence and turned, no longer ashamed to believe in the dream. The colony, he though, still had hope.

She sat in the rocking chair next to the one he was on, both remaining silent, as the wind began to blow harder, the storm harsh against the walls. Against their souls.

The child had woken up at midnight, reaching out to the old woman, who had come to lay next to him, guarding his body while he slept, short after the old man had fallen asleep in the small room she prepared for him. His small hands groped for the sleeping robe she wore, drawing her near. She woke up, a small gasp escaping her.

"Shao, what is it?"

The boy had said nothing, his mind still lost in the dreams he was having. He buried himself to her chest, closing his eyes, holding her. She frowned, her soul aching and reached down to embrace him. He buried himself deeper into her breasts, her skin, falling into his dream again, feeling her arms enfold him. She ran a hand over his hot face, over his eyes, his hair. The child was speaking, his voice barely a whisper, his mind lost in the dream.

"Obasan..."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand what the boy was saying, but she couldn't. He was talking what seemed gibberish, running his small hands over her tenderly, like when he was a small child. She closed her eyes, melancholy taking her, as he ran his small lips over her breasts, his old sweet childish gesture. She ran her grey hand over his shoulders, over his free long hair, combing it.

"Rest, Wu shao, rest..." she whispered. The wind howled outside. "The dawn is almost here."

Wu Fei hugged her tighter, his white hands holding her feverishly. He was speaking again, mumbling louder, talking to someone in his dream.

"Obasan... goodbye... Obasan..."

She closed her tighter, listening to him, her soul crying. The rain changed directions outside, the lightning rolling down like waves. The smell of the florid water filled her nostrils, the storm ringed outside. She felt her tears well again.

"Goodbye... Oba... san.."

She felt her should die as the boy pressed himself to her, shouting in his dream.

"No... Obasan... no..."

"Wu Fei," she spoke, her voice a tired drone in the darkness, her tears falling freely to the bed sheets, on the boy's hair. She gasped, her lungs unable to breath. The smell was too strong. Her mouth gasped for air, begging. She drew in air, wanting to live at least a bit longer. She smiled, her eyes sadly looking down at her grandson. She wanted to live, but felt her soul already departing. The harsh wind banged loudly at her window. She gasped. It was difficult to breath again, her mind reeled in pain, but she looked down at the boy, holding him near.

"Wu Fei," she said. "Listen to fate... it can hold nothing but honour for you, shao... I believe... Wu Fei." She closed her eyes tighter, feeling the boy's fingers on her face. "I couldn't see you grow up, child... become a father, a s-strong m-man, and marry." The child moaned, his hands grasping her white braid, curling it on his fingers.

"Such was not o-our... f-fa... te."

It was harder to breath now, her lungs buried in the smell of the strange, florid water. She could hardly see, her eyes full of tears. She looked down at him. The boy would never be able to finish the childish duel with Shuan Ho, such were petty things compared to what waited for him, this she knew, and fully understood now. He would have greater duels against fate. She ran her fingers through his long, dark hair, over his small lips, his cheeks, his eyes and thick brows. Making a memory photograph of his sweet face, of his lovely, innocent, childish face. Still free of death and blood, shame and murder. She gasped as she noticed that he was doing the same thing.

He traced her old, wrinkled skin, her eye lashes, her small thin brows and forehead. His small hands drew a picture across her chest, her breasts, her thin, strong arms, her maternal figure. He was talking in his sleep as he did this, his soft voice calling her. She smiled, feeling her throat ache. She wouldn't be here when he would wake. She felt his fingers on her nose, but she couldn't stand the pain anymore. The pain came harder and harder on her chest. Like a knife. And he was talking to her.

"Muquin... mama... goodbye..."

"Goodbye... Wu..." Her voice died on her lips, her eyes rolling out of control, her breasts ceasing to fall and rise rhythmically, her heart slowing down. She reached to hold the boy, locking him to her in one last embrace, her lips fixed on a beautiful smile even in death.

Wu Fei buried his face into her arms, eyes closed, smiling. The nightmare had finally ended. Obasan's soft arms had brushed all the pain away, keeping Death away. He fell back to a placid sleep, smiling as he nuzzled his face against the old woman's tender body.

Copyright (c) 1997 (c) Gundam Wing March 18, 1997. Please, if you are going to make a copy of this, ask for permission first. To make an illegal copy of this is to commit a Federal crime and is punishable by Law.