Of Ghosts and Swords, Words and Wars
folder
Gundam Wing/AC › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,375
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Gundam Wing/AC › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,375
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Roku: Swords
Disclaimer: I do not own Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W or any of its characters. Welcome to the wonderful world of Fanfiction!
Warning: This fic contains at least SHOUNEN-AI (guys kissin’ and cuddlin’) and possibly YAOI (explicit sex scenes between guys), it also contains PEDERASTY (erotic practices between adult males and adolescent boys) because Wu Fei is16(now or has been for a few chapters).
Author Note: I have had two Chinese classes! I’m not a language geek really. If anyone is wondering I am enjoying it so far, just my jaw/mouth hurts for a bit after. This is an action packed chapter with a surprise (I hope) chapter end I hope it pleases everyone, even if it is a bit short.
Happy Reading!
-Na
Of Ghosts and Swords, Words and Wars
Chaputa-roku: Swords
There was a flurry and a still all in a single moment, as if the room filled with a million fluttering butterflies, blurring the vision between the two men that now stood facing each other. The eerie quiet of the room was broken by the almost identical withdrawing of steel from the sheaths; the metal moving through the thick air removed the butterflies and the din. And there stood the two men, for perhaps this was the first time in all time that the two opponents faced each as men. No ghosts, haunted pasts, no more did eyes see a youth that was too mature for his age, who should have never fathomed the idea of picking up a sword. Now they were two men, who were never children, a widower and another whose love wasn’t given a chance, ghosts of their former selves, with no thoughts for their surrounding and premonitions of the future that they now held in their hands.
Somber eyes of the sable haired man starred steadily into those of the deepest blue eyes, the color of the deepest ocean. The younger’s breathing was slow and calm, muscles relaxed but his body poised and ready. Shed was the carefree starting that Wu Fei would have previously done—a brash rushing in.
The ginger haired man watched with cool collected eyes, waiting for the tell-tale move that should have come, that was the normal procedures, the move he knew was not coming. He was agitated and anxious, he wanted this to begin, continue, end—where in this perpetual cycle were they? Treize shuffled slightly forward, and watch half perplexed as his opponent shifted to the side.
And there they stood prepared.
And there the fighters made slow calculated circles around each other.
And as the blades slipped carefully forward, the sound of violin strings being pulled, as the steel slide against steel and then retracted just as slowly.
The room filled with anticipation so thick and potent it was as blood. And the bodies moved as if they were in a vat of blood to their knees, moving so carefully with precise and slow footwork. Once more their arms outstretched in an almost stagnant manor as if braches grew from the blood and wrapped themselves around the upper bodies of the men. The violin sounded in the dim still and shattered the blood.
Treize hit the katana away from his person in a small circular sweep. This pushed the katana blade far from the bodies of the fighters, although the grip that the young Chinese man has on his blade was strong. In a continuation of the movement the katana swooped in a figure eight movement, slicing at the older man from left hip to right shoulder. The aristocrat took a step back and parried the blade when it seemed to make it halfway up his body.
They were cursorily moves at best; simple strikes, slow parries, and a few careless sidesteps. Suddenly, as unanticipated as a paper cut, and just as thin and stinging, there was blood. But that was not the cause that brought the shock to the German-Russian bred man’s brain as quickly as his nerves delivered the pain to his brain. There, on his hand—was a thin welling line of crimson—on his sword hand.
A multiple of thoughts tried to worm their way swiftly into his head, but quickly he pushed them away, smirked and moved forward in a single swift hard move slashing to the left side of his younger opponent. Wu Fei moved his head to the right avoiding the blade, and then ducking to come up on the other side of his opponent. Being shown Treize’s back Wu Fei smiled, but the elder was much swifter in returning, to either knock down the charcoal haired boy, or to hack at his ear and neck.
Now on the defensive, Wu Fei dropped to the ground and rolled over backwards on his shoulder and the side of his head of the hand that held his sword far from his body. It was one of those explosive unexpected moves, that had persian blue eyes widen and a gasp from the spectator, as the caramel skin man landed on his feet and launched forward towards his opponent.
It was a strike aimed to go across the expanse of the elder’s abdomen. But Treize was quick raising his sword to block the strike. The blades never met at the central focal point. Wu Fei’s foot raised and kicked the arm away, shaking the ginger haired man. The side kick was not controlled enough and turned the Chinese man so that his back was to the taller man, and second kick righted the shorter of the two fighters.
The katana made another flawless move from the right hip to the left shoulder of the finely dressed man, who took a step back. Moving across the pectorals, Wu Fei cut a fine line in the fabric of his opponent’s shirt towards the sword hand. Another step back followed by the advancing step. Instead of lodging the Japanese steel into the muscles of the shoulder, the younger turned the blade so that the flat laid against the skin of the taller’s arm and applied pressure attempting to push the sword hand away, as to invade the inner defenses.
Treize saw what Wu Fei was trying to do and took a several swift steps backwards until he heard their sweet stroke of the violin. A circular block, which this time forced the katana down.
Quickly the fine tipped sword raised and made quick strikes at the ex-Gundam pilot’s head and neck, a few wispy strands of the sable hair fell from the pony tail, having been cut slightly shorter.
Another strike came close to Wu Fei’s left ear, and the arm was abruptly caught in the palm of the caramel colored left hand. In a single movement the shorter of the two men held firm to his captive and stepped forward Katana blade held to the pale neck.
There was a pause, a pregnant moment where no one moved and even though both fighters were taking in gasping breaths of air, it seemed as if neither was breathing even the ex-Lightning count said or did nothing.
Blue eyes took in the appearance of his opponent who finally won, as black orbs absorbed what victory looked like. Both came to the same conclusion for their wounds and states of dress were so similar the sweat soaked clothing the minuscule slivers of blood littering their bodies.
Like a rusty vice, slowly Wu Fei loosened his grip on Treize’s arm. The arm dropped limply and the ex-OZ commander took a step back. Time still seemed not to start, or return to any normal pace until the illustrious blond stood hesitantly.
“You won Wu Fei,” Treize almost whispered, the Chinese youth no longer feeling like a man fell to his knees, “you’re free, so what would you like to do, now?”
Letting go of the katana now that he was kneeling on the ground, an unnoticeable tremble racked his body, for now he knew the truth, the truth—he would never be free. But then again he could be free in a way; he could go home meditate, return to work, see Duo—forget all about this ghost. And be stuck in the old never ending circle that he was stuck in before he resurrected these ghosts.
Wu Fei must have been thinking for a long time, since Milliardo shifted and sat back down. Treize frowned briefly and then smiled as the youngest opened his mouth slightly and closed it, the elder decided that perhaps the younger just needed encouragement, “It was an excellent fight Wu Fei, your moves were nicely ex-“
“I want to stay,” interrupted Wu Fei looking up into the azure orbs.
A smile lighted up the face of the elder man, “Of course you can stay what you want to do? Play chess, read, or talk, maybe?”
“Iie, I want to stay,” Wu Fei said his voice shook slightly afraid that the answer would be negative, “as in no more Preventers, no Duo, no late night motorcycle rides, no leaving… ever… again.”
The room was silent; the obsidian eyes fell to stare at the carpet awaiting the answer that he was both hopeful for and dreading. Wu Fei did not see the hope shinning in the deep blue eye, or the looks exchanged between the two elder men in the room.
“Hai Wu Fei, of course you can stay here, for as long as you would like,” said the melodious voice of Millardo Peacecraft.
Author’s Note: I’ll tell you the “I want to stay” scene has been planned for this since day one. I hope you like it as much as I do/liked writing it.
German Dictionary (I learned German in Switzerland and what I learned as High German there is sometimes not actually High German):
Chinese Dictionary:
I hope you enjoyed it. Please review no matter what.
-Na
Warning: This fic contains at least SHOUNEN-AI (guys kissin’ and cuddlin’) and possibly YAOI (explicit sex scenes between guys), it also contains PEDERASTY (erotic practices between adult males and adolescent boys) because Wu Fei is16(now or has been for a few chapters).
Author Note: I have had two Chinese classes! I’m not a language geek really. If anyone is wondering I am enjoying it so far, just my jaw/mouth hurts for a bit after. This is an action packed chapter with a surprise (I hope) chapter end I hope it pleases everyone, even if it is a bit short.
Happy Reading!
-Na
Of Ghosts and Swords, Words and Wars
Chaputa-roku: Swords
There was a flurry and a still all in a single moment, as if the room filled with a million fluttering butterflies, blurring the vision between the two men that now stood facing each other. The eerie quiet of the room was broken by the almost identical withdrawing of steel from the sheaths; the metal moving through the thick air removed the butterflies and the din. And there stood the two men, for perhaps this was the first time in all time that the two opponents faced each as men. No ghosts, haunted pasts, no more did eyes see a youth that was too mature for his age, who should have never fathomed the idea of picking up a sword. Now they were two men, who were never children, a widower and another whose love wasn’t given a chance, ghosts of their former selves, with no thoughts for their surrounding and premonitions of the future that they now held in their hands.
Somber eyes of the sable haired man starred steadily into those of the deepest blue eyes, the color of the deepest ocean. The younger’s breathing was slow and calm, muscles relaxed but his body poised and ready. Shed was the carefree starting that Wu Fei would have previously done—a brash rushing in.
The ginger haired man watched with cool collected eyes, waiting for the tell-tale move that should have come, that was the normal procedures, the move he knew was not coming. He was agitated and anxious, he wanted this to begin, continue, end—where in this perpetual cycle were they? Treize shuffled slightly forward, and watch half perplexed as his opponent shifted to the side.
And there they stood prepared.
And there the fighters made slow calculated circles around each other.
And as the blades slipped carefully forward, the sound of violin strings being pulled, as the steel slide against steel and then retracted just as slowly.
The room filled with anticipation so thick and potent it was as blood. And the bodies moved as if they were in a vat of blood to their knees, moving so carefully with precise and slow footwork. Once more their arms outstretched in an almost stagnant manor as if braches grew from the blood and wrapped themselves around the upper bodies of the men. The violin sounded in the dim still and shattered the blood.
Treize hit the katana away from his person in a small circular sweep. This pushed the katana blade far from the bodies of the fighters, although the grip that the young Chinese man has on his blade was strong. In a continuation of the movement the katana swooped in a figure eight movement, slicing at the older man from left hip to right shoulder. The aristocrat took a step back and parried the blade when it seemed to make it halfway up his body.
They were cursorily moves at best; simple strikes, slow parries, and a few careless sidesteps. Suddenly, as unanticipated as a paper cut, and just as thin and stinging, there was blood. But that was not the cause that brought the shock to the German-Russian bred man’s brain as quickly as his nerves delivered the pain to his brain. There, on his hand—was a thin welling line of crimson—on his sword hand.
A multiple of thoughts tried to worm their way swiftly into his head, but quickly he pushed them away, smirked and moved forward in a single swift hard move slashing to the left side of his younger opponent. Wu Fei moved his head to the right avoiding the blade, and then ducking to come up on the other side of his opponent. Being shown Treize’s back Wu Fei smiled, but the elder was much swifter in returning, to either knock down the charcoal haired boy, or to hack at his ear and neck.
Now on the defensive, Wu Fei dropped to the ground and rolled over backwards on his shoulder and the side of his head of the hand that held his sword far from his body. It was one of those explosive unexpected moves, that had persian blue eyes widen and a gasp from the spectator, as the caramel skin man landed on his feet and launched forward towards his opponent.
It was a strike aimed to go across the expanse of the elder’s abdomen. But Treize was quick raising his sword to block the strike. The blades never met at the central focal point. Wu Fei’s foot raised and kicked the arm away, shaking the ginger haired man. The side kick was not controlled enough and turned the Chinese man so that his back was to the taller man, and second kick righted the shorter of the two fighters.
The katana made another flawless move from the right hip to the left shoulder of the finely dressed man, who took a step back. Moving across the pectorals, Wu Fei cut a fine line in the fabric of his opponent’s shirt towards the sword hand. Another step back followed by the advancing step. Instead of lodging the Japanese steel into the muscles of the shoulder, the younger turned the blade so that the flat laid against the skin of the taller’s arm and applied pressure attempting to push the sword hand away, as to invade the inner defenses.
Treize saw what Wu Fei was trying to do and took a several swift steps backwards until he heard their sweet stroke of the violin. A circular block, which this time forced the katana down.
Quickly the fine tipped sword raised and made quick strikes at the ex-Gundam pilot’s head and neck, a few wispy strands of the sable hair fell from the pony tail, having been cut slightly shorter.
Another strike came close to Wu Fei’s left ear, and the arm was abruptly caught in the palm of the caramel colored left hand. In a single movement the shorter of the two men held firm to his captive and stepped forward Katana blade held to the pale neck.
There was a pause, a pregnant moment where no one moved and even though both fighters were taking in gasping breaths of air, it seemed as if neither was breathing even the ex-Lightning count said or did nothing.
Blue eyes took in the appearance of his opponent who finally won, as black orbs absorbed what victory looked like. Both came to the same conclusion for their wounds and states of dress were so similar the sweat soaked clothing the minuscule slivers of blood littering their bodies.
Like a rusty vice, slowly Wu Fei loosened his grip on Treize’s arm. The arm dropped limply and the ex-OZ commander took a step back. Time still seemed not to start, or return to any normal pace until the illustrious blond stood hesitantly.
“You won Wu Fei,” Treize almost whispered, the Chinese youth no longer feeling like a man fell to his knees, “you’re free, so what would you like to do, now?”
Letting go of the katana now that he was kneeling on the ground, an unnoticeable tremble racked his body, for now he knew the truth, the truth—he would never be free. But then again he could be free in a way; he could go home meditate, return to work, see Duo—forget all about this ghost. And be stuck in the old never ending circle that he was stuck in before he resurrected these ghosts.
Wu Fei must have been thinking for a long time, since Milliardo shifted and sat back down. Treize frowned briefly and then smiled as the youngest opened his mouth slightly and closed it, the elder decided that perhaps the younger just needed encouragement, “It was an excellent fight Wu Fei, your moves were nicely ex-“
“I want to stay,” interrupted Wu Fei looking up into the azure orbs.
A smile lighted up the face of the elder man, “Of course you can stay what you want to do? Play chess, read, or talk, maybe?”
“Iie, I want to stay,” Wu Fei said his voice shook slightly afraid that the answer would be negative, “as in no more Preventers, no Duo, no late night motorcycle rides, no leaving… ever… again.”
The room was silent; the obsidian eyes fell to stare at the carpet awaiting the answer that he was both hopeful for and dreading. Wu Fei did not see the hope shinning in the deep blue eye, or the looks exchanged between the two elder men in the room.
“Hai Wu Fei, of course you can stay here, for as long as you would like,” said the melodious voice of Millardo Peacecraft.
Author’s Note: I’ll tell you the “I want to stay” scene has been planned for this since day one. I hope you like it as much as I do/liked writing it.
German Dictionary (I learned German in Switzerland and what I learned as High German there is sometimes not actually High German):
Chinese Dictionary:
I hope you enjoyed it. Please review no matter what.
-Na