Disclaimers: The Gundam Boys and all related people, items, history, ect. belong to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency and other such people with far more money and talent than I could even dream of.
Warnings: 1x2, mild 4+3 (as in barely there), Wu-bear is by his lonesome again.
Notes: This is a series based on an idea that Seimei no Miko kitty brought up. What if one of the GBoys was born with a disablity and still managed to live and survive, and then at the end of the war everyone finds out.
Stargem: for beta-ing and smacking me when I left plot holes.
MadamHydra: for that inspirational lecture on action words.. ::snert::
Ad-koi: for just being there.
Em (Lys ap Adin): for jabbing me sharply in the ribs when I conviently forgot about the fic.
And every one who put up with me for the last frickin' year.
All that Matters
by Amy (Kikotei
A few more strokes and all the tangles with be out. And then I can put my hair in its customary braid. A braid is a useful thing when you have long hair. It would look real dumb if my tombstone said something like 'The baka tripped on his own hair'. I snort. Sounds remarkably like something the Perfect Soldier would say. And knowing him, if he even bothered with a head stone, that's exactly what it would say. There, all done brushing.
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, in my dark room, I separate my hair into three equal section and slowing begin to braid. Minutes later I reach the end. Now where did I put that hair tie? I start groping across the sleep-rumple sheets. Damn, I misplaced another one. Finally one of my fingers catches the elastic loop. With my hair carefully braided and tied, I stand, straighten my clothes, and head for the door. Leaving, I realize grimly that I never once turned on the lights.
After all, what use is light to a blind man.