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Maybe, this was a bad idea.
She could have heeded to her superior’s advice. After all, they were journalists for a small, dinky tabloid. No need to place any expiration on her life by following individuals who were clearly more than your average human. A typhoon and an undertaker plus a superior-rookie duo of journalists—the mix was fun while it lasted. Perhaps, she had enough stories under her belt to boast about her first field assignment. Frankly, she had more than enough–got eaten by a worm, witnessed the destruction of a town, and learned about the plant-theft mystery that plagued No Man’s Land. The truth of the plant-theft mystery.
Perhaps that’s what drove Meryl to stay. She carried a strong sense of justice that went hand and hand with her innocent naivety of the world. It’s why she came so close to death more times than she would have liked during this field assignment. There was so much to this world than what she had heard of. Towns riddled with people who were not as fortunate as she was. People who were drowning in storms so deep that they would jump at any string thrown to them, even if it meant turning their back to someone they previously labeled as a friend. And in response, this so-called friend simply smiled. No words of anger or an attempt at an argument. As if he understood why their plight brought about their actions.
This was where her ambitious journalistic sense of justice kicked in. One that at first laid dormant when he spoke of his story, being falsely accused for the plant-theft incidents, claimed the real thief was someone who looked like him, a twin. But it began to rise as she encountered more and more unusual whirlwinds of events. Events that showcased there was more to this typhoon than what meets the eye. Kindness, understanding, and a desire to seek non-violent methods in fighting was what drove him. And if that method resulted in him kicking up his feet and running away, it was an option he’d take in a heartbeat. Quite ironic for a wanted outlaw. The complete opposite of one.
She accused him of being a coward back at Jeneora Rock. Words she sputtered without an attempt to understand what went on in his mind. Soon realized how wrong her words were, when she saw how quick he was to return when he heard the town was in trouble. The same town that went against him and attempted to capture him for the bounty on his head. And the deep, aching sadness that came afterwards when fingers were pointed at him for the town’s demise. Even so, the true cause of Jeneora Rock’s demise was revealed in midst of the town’s run-ins with the Nebraska family’s father/son duo and the E.G. Bomber. Vash’s nonsensical story about his twin brother went from a story that held no substance to a grave reality.
Yet, somehow the people of Jeneora Rock found a way to blame him. Blaming him for his brother’s wrongdoings, Vash by association was involved in the destruction of the town. That sense of justice rose quickly within her even more so when all the supposed blame could do was walk away, again without an attempt to defend himself. Any normal person would have angrily argued their case for being wrongly accused especially if the accusations were made by people that claimed to be their friend.
But Vash wasn’t like any normal person.
In fact, he wasn’t like any other person she had ever met. And Meryl thought her time at November University expanded her limited knowledge of people. But as someone with a sense of journalistic justice, she should have expected meeting out-of-the-ordinary characters to be a criteria of job, especially one that specialized in tabloids.
Initially, she was filled with ambition, thought she had hit the rookie jackpot in scoring the perfect subject for her first aspiring article for the Bernardelli Press. Her subject of the matter had to arguably be the most wanted man in No Man’s Land. Even Roberto, a seasoned journalist as himself, who has seen his own fair share of crazies, thought this was an absurd idea. Which is why on many occasions, he attempted to persuade Meryl to walk away from this silly ambition she blindly held onto. That this ambition was not worth risking her own life over. Meryl never blamed Roberto for wanting to run away the moment danger struck them–this happened more often than not, but it was a price to be paid when one traveled with a wanted outlaw. Even with every futile attempt, Meryl stood firm, she was willing to risk her life for this. She was doing this for justice, to prove to the world that Vash was a good person, and the bounty on his head was outrageously unjustified.
But the weeks went on, since adding the undertaker to their traveling crew, Roberto began to throw in more hints that they had more than enough information to create a quality article. Meryl however didn’t believe that was the case.
Newbie, those two are from a different world than us ordinary folk. It won’t do us any good the longer we stick around.
Her superior had sometimes, coherent and thoughtful words of advice, even with the on- the-job drinking and constant need for cigarettes. He was surprisingly perceptive for a person whose head was filled with liquor the majority of their travels. And when he needed to be, he was sharp and demanding especially in the moments where Meryl had no regards to her life.
Maybe, Roberto was right. Their path with Vash the Stampede had come to a close, the moment they departed for their separate ways on the sand steamer. Then they would go back to the main office and create an article about Vash’s innocence and surely through her article, people will come to know Vash like she did. The real Vash. Not the humanoid typhoon figure they see plastered on every corner of every shop on No Man’s Land.
The real Vash that was thoughtful and kind. Who preferred to endure sufferings on his own and sometimes would look up into the sky with a hollow expression in his eyes, then follow with a genuine smile. Sometimes, it felt he wasn’t present, that he was somewhere far away, maybe in worlds beyond this one. And other times, he was very observant, and looked at people with kind intent and understanding. He crafted this persona that seemed incapable, go-lucky, helpless at some points–though Meryl would argue the helpless trait was a part of his real personality. Vash also presented bits of himself in other ways, but maintained a guarded, comfortable distance when interacting with others. Still, Meryl felt there was a quiet, agonizing burden Vash was carrying within himself, one she couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend, though a huge part of her wanted to. She desired to uncover more of his mystery, more than what he allowed others to see.
Were those feelings driven by her sense of justice?
Was she driven by her sense of justice at this very moment–driving through the sands attempting to hastily catch up to the sand steamer by her. The same sand steamer she had bid her farewell to Vash hours before. The words of Roberto beside her were drowned out by a combination of her own thoughts and adrenaline. She overheard small phrases like journalistic integrity, attachment and personal bias but even so at this very moment, the words meant nothing to her. Even Roberto realized his words were not getting through the young journalist as she continued her pursuit of the sand steamer. He groaned in defeat.
“Fine! Just remember it’s an undercover report.”
“I get it!”
“Pull out at the first sign of trouble, you hear?”
A little annoyed at Roberto’s persistence and sudden show of effort, Meryl curtly responded, “I get it.”
“Do you really ?”
Attachment. Personal bias. Integrity to the truth.
With those words in mind, Meryl began a downward descent into the myriad of her thoughts, questioning her sense of justice and the calm, stern warnings Roberto had repeatedly given her.
Not sure what else you need from him, newbie. Are you trying to play hero or are there personal feelings at play?
Meryl was no hero, in fact she was far from it. This first field assignment proved that. Unable to save one child from a severe injury, allowing him to slip through her fingers while she remained unscathed. It was a guilt she carried within her. But in her mind, it seemed minimal compared to the pain she’s seen Vash carry. A pain she so wishes she can take one tiny piece of. Perhaps even with the alleviation of that one tiny piece, the burden may feel lighter.
Her mind reflected on the thought of heroes from her childhood. Fantastical stories that always resulted in a great hero who saved the people in the end. For her younger self, the story ended there, the hero and the people were happy because they were saved from some great evil. But as she grew older and saw more of the world, Meryl couldn’t help but ask, at the end of the day, who helps the heroic individual with their sufferings? Surely, feelings of loneliness, despair, and sadness don't automatically go away once evil has been defeated. Evil wasn’t always the cause of those feelings. Like her, the hero was human as well. She felt bad for the hero who might choose to suffer in silence in order to keep the facade. The hero who does all the saving, who saves them?
Vash wasn’t exactly like the heroes in her childhood stories. Unfortunately, it seemed destruction and trouble came with him wherever he went, no matter how hard he pushed his pacifist beliefs. No matter the good deeds he’d fulfilled, the bounty on his head reminded him of how disposable he was. It was for the greater good. One life versus many. He was their sacrificial lamb. To the people of No Man’s Land, Vash the Stampede was no hero.
But, Vash the Stampede had heroic traits. Leaping immediately into any danger if a life, a single life was at risk (no, not his own). He’d do anything to help people without a regard to his life or outlaw status. It was almost like he saw himself as No Man’s Land’s sacrificial lamb. Whether the people or himself labeled him first was not of anyone’s concern, but the belief seemed pretty common across No Man’s Land. While these heroic traits were a part of his charm, they could also be the cause of his own downfall. And Meryl had seen it firsthand, at least the beginnings of it; the hunger strikes Vash would put himself through, the feeling of guilt that tremendously weighed him down. Enough to prevent any appetite from him.
Who wouldn’t be concerned for their friend if they had decided to stop eating for a couple days? It was normal, Meryl would think, except Roberto, who preferred to be sympathetic but from a distance. He simply stated Vash’s hunger strike was the tip of an enormous iceberg that two strangers (who only knew him for a few days at that time) were meant not to know or find out. Basically, Roberto kept his distance and recommended Meryl to do the same. She remembered the relief she felt when Vash decided to eat despite his first choice of food after the strike being worm meat–the very same worm that they found themselves stuck in for a time–the details of the food didn’t matter, what really mattered was Vash allowed himself to eat.
Vash never took sides in any conflict either. Meryl and Roberto saw his pacifist beliefs he strongly took firsthand. How quick he was to defend someone who was at his throat minutes before. Not inflicting any potential, damaging harm to anybody who called themselves his opponent. It was astonishing for a man who was a gunman and an outlaw. Love and peace were words Vash stood for. This stance was, of course, not as warmly welcomed as Vash had hoped, especially in a world such as No Man’s Land. Even with Meryl’s naivety, she first saw Vash’s beliefs as weak, unstable, and quick to fold. In another world where the planet they lived on was stable and not as reckoning as it was, sure, Vash’s hope for peace could thrive. However as the days with Vash continued to grow, Meryl found herself believing bit by bit in this belief of his. That this belief wasn’t just an empty promise or a what-if. It was a possibility, one Vash was willing to gamble his life for.
Small hands gripped the steering wheel as her legs exerted more force onto the gas pedal. In response, the car briefly launched itself forward, slamming back hard onto the sand. The gauge on the car rose to the limit of its capabilities but still, they were nowhere near the fast speed of the sand steamer.
“Oi newbie! Are you trying to kill us before we get on the steamer?”
“I’m sorry!”
Heat rose to her cheeks as she began to slowly put together the pieces of her thoughts. What was previously driven by justice and ambition, were replaced by feelings of fondness and perhaps, affection. Meryl was thankful for the dark desert night that assisted her in concealing the newfound color to her cheeks. Sweat began to increase through the material of her gloves which caused her grip on the wheel to loosen slightly. She was slowly losing it. Her composure, her drive, her everything.
All came crashing down at the thought of him.
This was complete nonsense and a terrifying, potential career-ending blunder on her part. Meryl side-eyed her superior suspiciously, wondered if he had caught on before she had. The attempts to escape were not only in regard to her life, but was it with professional caution? Maybe, Roberto saw those feelings as attachment, a friend-like attachment. After all, Vash had been nothing less than friendly toward her. The two had been traveling together for a couple weeks now, surely this attachment was friendly on her part, just like it has been on his.
Friend-like… That’s probably what this was.
There was a slight skip in her heart whenever she made eye contact with Vash. The way his eyes looked at her with genuine curiosity, always attentive to anything she did or said, even when she scolded him. Maybe it’s because he was the only person who said her name, not under the guise of a pet name crafted for her like shorty or newbie. That action alone said a lot about him. Then there were times when Vash would offer to take over Meryl’s driving responsibilities, despite his horrible driving abilities. Meryl appreciated the sentiment but refused every time he asked. He also asked her what her days at November University were like, curious about the experience of a university student. According to Roberto, Meryl’s experience was unlike the typical student since he believed she spent most of her university life studying. But Vash didn’t find fault in that sentiment. There was some truth to his statement, but Meryl did go out every now and then. He was fascinated regardless as he made comments about her dedication and how great it was to have a good work ethic. It was through these moments when Meryl saw how attentive Vash was. It was one of the ways Meryl knew Vash was present. He was either close at hand or distant where his mind seemed to be elsewhere, riddled with puzzles no one has sought to solve, or has been allowed to.
And the times when Meryl thought Vash was elsewhere, she looked on with quiet eyes, wondering what laid beneath the surface. When there was a hint of a genuine look or thought that wasn’t overshadowed by his persona, Meryl made note of it. She consciously remembered his unusual craving for doughnuts (or any kind of food really) and began to wonder what were the other things Vash genuinely liked. Or what kind of life he had led prior to his outlaw one. But unknowingly, without any ambitious or journalistic intent, Meryl watched Vash through quiet eyes, as if she were taking notes for an article, but it was not meant to be shared with the world. It was an article she wanted to craft for herself.
Immediately, Meryl’s hands briskly left the wheel and without any thought, slapped the sides of her cheeks.
“N-n-newbie? Are you– hands on the wheel!” Roberto cried.
Meryl followed her superior’s panicked orders as her hands secured themselves on the steering wheel once more. From the corner of her eye, iridescent lights shone brightly. Cries and cheers were also heard followed by Roberto’s exasperated groan. She didn’t like the sound of this impending situation as she braced herself for a stern scolding or complaint from her superior.
“The Bad Lads Gang! Ha! I got a newbie who’s obsessed with a gunman and now, the Bad Lads Gang is here to carry me to my deathbed! What an end!”
“B-bad Lads Gang?” Meryl squeaked with shoulders shuddered, making her seem smaller than usual. “Why are they here? Are they going to capture us?”
The car began to slightly go off course due to Meryl’s scared, distracted form, earning Meryl another stern cry from Roberto.
“Keep your eyes on the road!”
“I’m sorry!” Meryl apologized.
The Bad Lads Gang began to catch up to them. Their neon, bright colored lights that shone everywhere from their attire to the sand boats they rode on. It was impossible to miss. What were the Bad Lads Gang doing here? What did they want from her and Roberto? Were they even after them? Or was their goal boarding the sand steamer?
Her last question was soon answered as the illuminated lights shifted their direction toward the sand steamer. And when she saw the speed the sand boats were driven by, an idea began to form in her head. An idea that would surely cause Roberto to severely consider early retirement (as if this entire field assignment didn’t convince him enough).
“Okay, newbie, I think we should forget about Stampede and the Undertaker, let’s just save ourselves. The gig is up. We don’t need to risk our lives any further.”
“I have an idea.” Meryl firmly said as her eyes followed the Bad Lad members launching themselves onto the bow of the sand steamer.
“I don’t want to hear this idea if it doesn’t involve us running away.” Roberto irritably shot back.
Ignoring her superior’s annoyed tone, Meryl turned to her window, extended her left arm out, and began to furiously wave, hoping to catch the attention of one of the Bad Lad Members. Roberto, who realized Meryl wasn’t turning away from the sand steamer but rather towards the crowd of Bad Lad Members attempting to board it, said a silent prayer in his head and unfurled a used cigarette. Meryl’s call for attention seemed to have worked as some of the Bad Lad members curiously approached the car. She slowed the car’s speed to a steady one as both hands gripped the wheel tightly, her heart pounding against her chest.
“What do you want, lady?!”
Meryl let out a small shriek before steadying herself though admittedly, it was hard to do so with the fluorescent lights of the gang’s sandboat and the fact she was just about to ask the help of a very dangerous gang.
All this just to return to gunman with a bounty of six million on his head.
“M-m-my partner and I are journalists! We would like to write an article about the Bad Lads Gang! It’ll be featured in an outlaw magazine!”
The Bad Lads member looked at his partner beside him. “An article? We got enough articles written about us. The journalists all say they want to tell our story but we end up looking bad!”
A gun was suddenly raised towards her which caused Meryl to shriek and Roberto to groan in frustration. It seemed they were offended by the request. Meryl took another deep breath and chose her next words carefully.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But I assure you, we’re not like other journalists. We’ll tell the story the way you want it to be told. I’ll even take pictures!”
Of course, this promise was totally out of line for their work. Journalists are meant to give an unbiased report about their subject. They were the ones in charge as they were the ones who gathered all the necessary facts. But Meryl had to blur the lines a little in order for this bait of hers to work.
Hesitancy continued to hold them as they pointed their gun toward Roberto who remained silent during the exchange, smoking his cigarette. Meryl nudged her superior and gestured her head to the two Bad Lads members who were waiting for his input on the situation. It was quite sexist that the members wanted to hear from Roberto and not from her, but Meryl bit her tongue and chose to remain silent for their safety. Roberto let out a deep sigh before he pulled out his journalist badge which prompted Meryl to do the same. As the two members looked at their badges, they muttered things like, Never heard of them, Bernardelli Press? Are they new? At least, they were taking hold of the bait Meryl set out for them. Her eyes glared at Roberto and his silence, urging him to say a few words or two especially since he was a senior reporter. Perhaps, his seniority can convince them.
“My newbie is very ambitious as you can see…It’s been her dream to cover the famous Bad Lads Gang. ”
The two Bad Lads members looked at Meryl curiously, the neon lit mask looked quite creepy up close, but the young journalist held it together, wanting to sell the part of an ambitious journalist with a peculiar interest in the dangerous gang.
“Okay, we’ll take your guys’ offer. If it’s been the young lady’s dream, who are we to stop her? But if this article turns out like all the others.. We’ll hunt you guys down and feed you to the worms!” The Bad Lad member threatened, gun pointed once at Meryl then at Roberto, “We better approve of the photos!”
Truthfully, Meryl didn’t think far ahead to the aftermath of her plan. She believed just getting the members to agree to her bait was enough. Sure, they could have potentially made their deathbed by exposing the company they were affiliated with but who knew when the next time the two would return to the office. For her, all that mattered was convincing the Bad Lads Gang to accompany them onto the sand steamer. From there, finding Vash and Wolfwood should be a relatively easy task. She hated to admit it but she was sure if there was some sort of trouble on the sand steamer, Vash and Wolfwood were likely to be present or at least close by.
They departed the car and rode on the swift sandboat of the Bad Lad Gang. Because of the need for lighter weight (makes traveling through the sand easier to maneuver), Roberto and Meryl each rode on their own sand boat with an accompanying Bad Lad member. The member on Meryl’s boat noticed her camera and immediately ordered her to take pictures, claiming it would be great to showcase their cool side for the article.
“C’mon little lady, make sure I look good!”
The fear from before had slightly subsided, replaced by a new feeling of concern as the group approached the sand steamer. Wouldn’t Vash be surprised to see them? Would he allow them to rejoin him? What should she say to him? That the information they had wasn’t enough? Roberto will make it known it was all Meryl’s idea to rejoin him. How can she explain herself without hinting any personal feelings were involved?
Vash surely would have come to terms that their farewell prior departing to the sand steamer was the last he’d see of them. He was hard to read at that moment with his usual smile on his face. Meryl couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Was he disappointed like she was or did he see their company as simple companionship that wasn’t meant to last? It seemed Vash treated all his relationships in that regard, meant to only be for a fleeting moment, but never long-term. Or did Vash not allow himself to engage in any long-term type of relationship, placing their own safety above his desires? Roberto never said it directly but he hinted that their separation from Vash was also done based on safety. A mutual agreement that it was for the safety of the pair to separate from him, given the dangers they miraculously escaped from.
Good luck on that article of yours. You guys are one of the most genuine people I met and I enjoyed our time together. I wish you both the best.
The last exchange they had before departing felt despondent as if Vash had also grown comfortable and attached to Roberto and her presence. At least, that’s how Meryl interpreted it on her end, Vash was a master of concealing his true emotions, so she could be completely off the mark. Meryl didn’t want to admit it but she felt disappointed. She at first believed the cause was her sense of justice. But the more time she spent thinking about it, she felt justice was an incorrect term to label it by. In fact, maybe these feelings had been brewing for quite some time and she hadn’t really thought about them until now. Unconsciously, Meryl kept them buried under the guise of keeping things professional and figured it was her desire for Vash’s innocence to be proven (this was the motivation at first). But when the inevitable possibility came that the two would eventually go their separate ways, the feelings Meryl kept buried, wanted to rise within her. It wasn’t uncommon for a journalist to develop a bond with their subject. But it was on her to keep that bond to be strictly professional, at least until the article had been completed, so that any sort of bias was out of the question. Even after, journalists kept in touch with the people they met, so a friendship wasn’t unheard of.
A romantic one was a whole different story.
Rather than climbing along the sand steamer to get to the port, some of the members decided to break through the windows instead. Meryl followed her assigned member, hearing the fear and confusion from the passengers when she entered through their window. Surely, she stuck out like a sore thumb, her everyday attire compared to the glitz and neon colors of the Bad Lad member. The gang had a slogan, well, various slogans but it seemed they were on the hunt for anything that glittered. They briefly looked through passengers’ belongings and if they found anything that fit their agenda, they took. And with the added presence of Meryl and her camera, the Bad Lads members took the opportunity to document every find.
After what had felt like an eternity, Meryl found Roberto once more, who seemed relieved the young journalist was safe. They were unaware of what was going on at the port but it seemed the steamer’s soldiers had their hands full with the arrival of the Gang. But Vash and Wolfwood were nowhere in sight. Meryl and Roberto didn’t know where to look or how they could break away from their personal journalist job.
“We need to find a way to slip out of this private job… They’re taking it more seriously than I thought.” Roberto whispered.
“Come on! Take a good one!” A Bad Lad member called as the group of them gathered into formation.
“O-of course…Well, here we go!”
Meryl obediently followed as her camera captured the various poses the gang put together. The more time Meryl spent with the Bad Lads Gang, the less frightening they became. Just slightly less. The Bad Lads Gang had a comical side to them, maybe it was due to the flashiness of their attire, or the calls for a picture every five minutes, not to mention the extra minute coming up with a pose (even included a heart-centric one). Nonetheless, Meryl desperately wanted out of this private journalist gig (as if this wasn’t her plan in the first place) but knowing Wolfwood and Vash were nearby, made Meryl realize she had to hurry. But it was hard to think when you were being called every five seconds for an impromptu photoshoot.
“I can’t believe we’re going to be on the cover of an outlaw magazine!” One member yelled.
“Man, we’ve come so far!”
“Hey, you’d better not use any bad pictures!”
“I’ll gut you and feed your innards to the Worms!”
The very thought of worms caused Mery’s stomach to spin. Small nervous tears filled her eyes as she pressed her lips into a pout. Maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Don’t scare the kid, you idiot!”
“That was just a joke, okay, little lady!”
“Hey, laugh more!”
Meryl promptly laughed, a fake one that was filled with a skittish tone, as her mind scrambled to think of an escape plan. Or else, she would face a reunion with the Worms. The last thing she wanted to reunite with.
“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Gotta keep smiling in life, right?”
Meryl hopelessly turned to Roberto, hoping he was somewhat sober enough to think of another plan.
“Roberto…”
Her superior simply shrugged and shook his head which caused Meryl to scoff in annoyance.
“I don’t even know.”
Suddenly bodies began to fly, grunts and groans were heard, and the hallway that was once filled with many Bad Lad members was being emptied out. But no blood was shed, not even the sound of gunfire, only bodies meeting the ground hard. Meryl’s eyes grew wide as she caught a glimpse of his familiar red coat. Underneath the mess, came the storm that created it, hurling his gun in an unusual position, not with the intention to shoot. Very typical of Vash.
“Vash!”
Vash’s serious expression quickly turned to one of concern with a hint of bewilderment once he saw Meryl and Roberto.
“What are you guys doing here?”
Feeling slightly awkward about the unexpected reunion and a splash of relief to finally be out of her private journalist job, Meryl scratched the back of her hat sheepishly, unable to get any proper explanation out.
“Er, gee, I wonder…” was all Meryl could say with a chuckle.
“Where’s the undertaker?” Roberto asked.
Vash’s eyes fell to the floor as he began to respond, “He’s….”
Sounds of voices and steps approached the group, cutting the surprise reunion short. Vash turned then extended his arm as he drew an invisible line Meryl and Roberto shouldn’t cross. Signaling for the two to stay behind him but not to be so close to him.
“Sorry, I’m in a hurry…”
There must be a reason why he and Wolfwood were separated. Roberto and Meryl stood back and watched as Vash took on the remaining Bad Lads members. Unlike other encounters, Vash drew his gun, but it was not in the typical shooting position. In fact, it seemed from Meryl’s view, he used the back of his gun to make contact with the bodies. And when he made contact, he did so with enough force to take them out, but not much on severely injuring them. There was much crafted attention to his movements, no sense of anger or rage behind it, but more so apologetic, as if he said a curt ‘sorry’ as he made contact with each body. But there was still a significant amount of power behind it? The ability to continuously take away armed men with the back of a gun as a nunchuck? That was unusual. Meryl and Roberto obediently stayed where they were now knowing why Vash had advised them to stay back, not just from the gang but from him.
Meryl took a deep sigh as her eyes scanned the area of limp bodies around them. There was one thing Roberto brought up, a shocking revelation they had found out about Vash back in Windmill Village, that she had pushed to the back of her mind. And now, having witnessed just a taste of Vash’s raw strength, Meryl was lost on what Vash’s capabilities were.
“Who is Vash, really?” Meryl absently asked.
“Not human, that’s for sure…” Was all Roberto could say.
Was this just a preview of the side of him Vash didn’t allow others to see? Another revelation to add on top of the puzzling question of his age. Now, after briefly reuniting with him, Meryl was greeted with more questions. Questions she wondered if she’d ever get answers for. Then, there was also his clearly complicated relationship with his brother. The motivations behind his brother’s actions were still unknown to Meryl and Roberto. Meryl had no problems asking the questions but the real question to ask was, would Vash be open to answering those questions? Questions that probed into a past Vash wanted to avoid and run away from. It was one of the first things he shared with Meryl and Roberto. Not only was he hunted for the bounty on his head, Vash was also running away from someone, his own brother.
If he wasn’t willing to answer the questions she had, Meryl was sure she was going to find her answers another way.. A person’s body language and gestures had a lot to say about them even more so than words could. And it wasn’t the journalist side of her that was curious, it was all a part of her own personal desire to uncover more of Vash’s mystery. Her own desire to get to know him more. The real him.
Quietly, Meryl decided she will continue to look on. Her own kindness and understanding, she promised herself to make them more known to Vash. And when the answers came, no matter how crazy or outlandish the answers seemed, she promised she’d listen and bear no judgment. Vash has had enough judgment and scorn, the thing he needed most, was patience and understanding. Until the day comes, when Vash can finally open up about himself and his burdens, Meryl promised she’d watch on with quiet eyes.
Your quiet eyes break my heart now. You’re calling out, you’re calling out despite it.