Tempest Wind (Vash x F!Reader)

In Death

You open your eyes and see a dark sky above you, with pieces of spacecraft burning up in the atmosphere like comets before they ever hit the ground. Your eyes scan around you; the carrier you had been on was in millions of pieces, the wreckage burning around you. Part of your body is still stuck under a large piece of metal debris, your legs and arm engulfed in flames, but the pain doesn't matter. You laugh loudly, your voice smothered by creaking metal and the roaring of the massive fires. With all this death and destruction around you, the only thing ringing in your head is one thought: you are free.

***

"Come on now, don't be a wuss! Help me out!" One of the young boys scolds the other.

"No, I think we shouldn't. You know the stories! What if it will bring the whole town bad luck?" The other boy shakes his head furiously.

"Those are just stupid stories! It's gonna be a pile of bones; they can't do anyone any harm!" argues the first boy, his unkempt dark brown hair getting in his eyes.

"Then why do you even want to have a look? If it's just a pile of bones..."

"What if it isn't?" snaps the boy at his blonde-haired comrade. "Now help me open this up; it's too heavy. The adults will be back from their meeting soon."

After a moment of hesitation, the blonde boy goes to help his friend. They push open a large metal coffin that has been in the center of the town square since long before they were born. A metal sculpture depicting an angel watches over them from just a few meters away.

At first, it takes a lot of force to push the lid of the coffin away, but after the initial struggle, it starts to slide away with surprising ease. The boys stumble and find themselves on the ground as the cover moves too quickly. They take a moment to gather themselves and get back on their feet with a deep breath, slowly inching their noses over the edge of the open coffin, afraid of what they might see. A dry pile of bones? A half-rotten corpse? Maybe it is empty? Or maybe, just maybe, it is, as the old tails say... To their complete shock, it is indeed the last part; the stories their grandmothers have passed onto them are true.

"So what do we have here?" A soft voice speaks up from behind the boys, and both of them jump into the air, screaming. They whip around, backing away from the voice, right against the coffin, and their faces depict pure horror as they look into the face of the tall blonde man. The figure takes a few steps back and says, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

The man clad in a long crimson coat chuckles a little, the orange glasses of his spectacles mirroring as the boys struggle for a moment to find the courage in their legs and run off. With the children gone, he steps closer to have a look. In the coffin lies a young woman, looking peaceful with her hands folded together just under her chest. If it wasn't for the obvious—a large handle of a knife sticking out of her chest where her heart should be, a dark circle still visible on the light blue fabric of the dress surrounding the dagger—he would guess she lied down to sleep just moments ago.

"You poor thing," the man's soft voice trails off. He places his hand on the corpse's; it doesn't feel cold to the touch, but not warm like a human should be. The surrounding desert air is surely to blame for this. Something seems off. He takes the hand, and it's not stiff; it moves with ease as he slips his fingers onto the wrist. No heartbeat. He isn't surprised; after all, this woman is lying in a coffin with a knife in her chest. He brushes off the uneasiness; he has seen many strange things in his long life. "This isn't right," he mumbles as he puts the corpse's hand back onto the other and wraps his long fingers around the handle of the dagger.

"Mister, no!" shouts the dark-haired boy from before, but it's too late; the knife is now in the hands of the strange man, the wide blade showing signs of rust. He puts the dagger at the feet of the angel statue before moving the lid of the coffin back to where it should be.