Death Row

His first thoughts were about his childhood. He missed those days, sitting around and listening to his father and grandfather's war stories. They had been heroes, to him. He wanted to grow up and fulfill such a legacy. The thought of doing something grand, coupled with love and praise, he liked the idea of it.

The concept was one thing, to go through with it was another, as he soon found out. He had wanted so badly for his father to be proud of him. To do something worthwhile. To live up to the family name. He found himself slipping backwards as he assembled toys all day- collector's items he liked to refer to them as. Made them seem less childish. But in the end, that's all they were. Ways for him to connect to his past, which he longed for again. He didn't want any more rules or responsibilities. He just wanted to be, to exist, and to be happy. He didn't care about invading Pekopon, really, he liked it, he liked living there. But he supposed that had more to do with the people he lived with and the lack of military influence. It was more like a vacation.

And still, despite the bursts of half-hearted attempts of invasion, he couldn't bring himself to really want it. It was only for the sake of his platoon, and his father. Every single time he let himself forget the mission, headquarters would demand proof, evidence, and every single time he put it off, made excuses, made up stories, lied, had Kululu whip something up to send off.

How long could it have gone on for, really?

How long did he think he'd be able to talk his way out of it before they got wise?

There were so many times where they could've done it, easily. Maybe it wasn't so much about the effort he'd have to exert, so much as it was he simply didn't want it that way. The Pekoponians might have been stupid at times, obsessed over the most trivial of things, but he liked them despite all the stories, all the rumors.

He supposed that might have come about from meeting the best one of them all though, Fuyuki.

He had taken a liking to the kid fast. They connected, strangely, somehow. He was a Pekoponian that wasn't as close-minded as the others. He not only believed in aliens, he accepted them without hesitation, fear, or discrimination. He believed there was more than just his planet and their problems. Maybe that's why he had liked the boy so much. He simply accepted him and acknowledged him.

And he had Gundam. That was a great reason to be friends too.

Despite all his selfishness, despite getting his platoon in this mess, he felt a twinge of accomplishment. He had done things he never thought or dreamed he could do. He went to another planet, he lived among a species everyone had feared and hated, and he had made their rumors look stupid and unfounded. He had gone up against Natsumi- and lost many times, admittedly, rallied his platoon against Garuru's, the list went on. In the end, their platoon had been dysfunctional, but it had worked.

He would never have a chance to have a child to tell his story to, but it would go down in history, and at least he would be known for what he and his platoon were able to do, before being put to death for it.

In the darkness, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch as tears streamed down his face.

"Sorry…dad."