All the standard warning apply.  I don't own Gundam Wing,
all its characters are the sole property of whoever owns it.  Umm...
don't sue me because I only have $5, and it probably wouldn't be
worth your time!  But, that's it, so enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Honshitsu

by Eikyu No Nozomi


	Five little boys.  Children, infants really, but at one time,
they were the mightiest of men.  The world depended upon them,
and when the chore was done, they were thrown away like rubbish.
It is sad, but true.  Heaven, Hell, and the World move on, leaving
the hollow, worn out husks of these five solitary warriors behind.
But, even before they were know as these Brave Fighters, these
Gundam Soldiers, they were people.  But, in the name of humanity,
that was not allowed to last for long, or ever at all.


Oh, all of time's have come
Here but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain


	There was the trained assassin, taught from the youngest
age only to kill, never to weep.  His own father was the one who
armed him, supplied him with his first weapon, and taught him
how to take his first life.  People stood back and watched as this
tiny child became the killer of millions, swooping over the
battlefield on the wings of his weapon, killing and destroying all
that stood in the way of completing his mission.
	But Heero, scared Heero, was not always like this.  He once
was nothing more than a frightened child at first, crying himself to
sleep at night with the memories of his training, his fathers
teachings, haunting him even into his dreams.  A young child,
who, at the tender age of five, was taught to shoot to kill, hold no
mercy, save for that of the quick death.  No mothers love ever
found his heart, no kindness was allowed to infect his thoughts.
He, in the minds of all who raised and trained him, was nothing
more than a Gundam Pilot, a Perfect Soldier.  But, in creating this
soldier of perfection, they did not realize that in doing so, they had
destroyed the very thing that was perfection.  A humans soul.
	And so, now, were a person to look into Heero's deep eyes,
they would drown in emptiness.  He has no soul, he is nothing
more than the discarded shell of a person.  Never weep for Heero
Yuy, though, there is nothing that can be done for him now.  Weep
only for what he has become, and for the child suffering in anguish
as his soul melts through his fingers, people looking on with only
their own interests at heart.  Weep for that poor child, not the
result, not the husk.


We can be like they are
Come on baby
Don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand
Don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly
Don't fear the reaper
Baby, I'm your man


	Then there is the heart, the one who feels all emotion, and
weeps for every person he is forced to kill, every person he must
destroy to save a thousand more.  Quatre Rabera Winner.  He
would pity the killer as even himself was struck down.  It is sad
that he was ever forced to meet the battlefield, but without him,
without his kindness, and his ability to see past the missions, to see
an even greater good, people would have long ago been doomed.
There must always be a sacrifice to appease war, and Quatre has
fulfilled that role all too well.  It is so depressing to see him forced
to choose between his beliefs and his life, but he chooses instead of
forcing that upon thousands of even weaker people.
	True, he too was forced into the role of protector, but he
does not complain.  Every day of his training, he held up his chin,
dried his tears, and took another step further.  He did not, would
not, let the poison of war kill his soul.  He kept his essence clean,
dealing with the hatred that clasped onto him in his own fashion.
	But he chose the wrong way to deal with his intense fury.
He bottled it up, keeping it forever trapped within his soul, eating
it away and leaving only darkness in its place.  Soon, there might
be nothing left of that dear, sweet boy.  Only a tormented victim,
craving redemption, but never stepping forward.  Another sacrifice
at the alter of the war gods.


Valentine is done
Here but now they're gone
Romeo and Juliet
Are together in eternity
Romeo and Juliet
Forty thousand men and women everyday
Like Romeo and Juliet
Forty thousand men and women everyday
Greedy for happiness
Another forty thousand coming everyday


	And the nameless one, the one who lurks through life, never
truly showing his true face to anyone, just covering it up with a half
clown mask.  Trowa Barton.  Triton Bloom.  No Name.  It doesn't
matter that he has no true history, he still was a soldier, a fighter
for life.  But, by the time he first sat down in the cockpit of the
gundam Heavyarms, he was already destroyed.  There was nothing
left of him before the battle got hold of him.  He has been nothing
more than a cleverly hidden shell all his life.  Even Heero has a
faint spark, while Trowa has nothing more than an empty memory
of battle, war, and hatred.
	If there was ever one to be pitied, Trowa is the one
deserving of that tear shed in vain.  He cares not for himself, only
for those he defends.  He would not kill a fly if it were possible, but
fate deemed it otherwise, and he was forced to shed a thousand
times fold those he met in combat.  True, it was to save a million
more each time, it was still something no person should ever be
forced into, especially one who can claim nothing in return, not
even the peace of mind that the end brings.
	No, the only thing that could ever bring peace to the turmoil
of Trowa's mind, for he has no soul left with which to grapple, is
the fact that he did right, that sacrificing the humane part of
himself for the souls of the world was the only thing he could have
done.  That he, in turn for his death, shall gain his soul back.  But
that will never happen, because a soldier, a child of his age, should
never be faced with the agony a conscious would cause him.  No,
he would be better off left as the piece of flesh, blood, and mind he
was allowed to survive as, and be thankful that he will never wake
up in the mid of night covered in a cold sweat, the faces of his
victims surrounding him in torment.


We can be like they are
Come on baby
Don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand
Don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly
Don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man

Love of two is one
Here but now they're gone


	And then there is Duo Maxwell, the God of Death,
Shinigami.  He passes everything off with a laugh, a wink, and a
smile.  He pretends that death has no affect on him, that he is
Death.  That, when the battle is over, and the deed done, he can
saunter down the street, take a nap, chat with some friendly
strangers, and never have his conscious bother him for it.
	But this isn't true, it never could be.  If Duo was as able to
dismiss the deaths he caused in every fight so easily, there would
be nothing there to keep him on the battle field.  He would desert it
for the nearest theme park, a nice sunny park.  He feels the pain as
intensely as the others, but chooses that his mask wear the smile of
a happy clown, even if the plaster is easily seen through.
	It is sad that Duo must destroy himself in such ways, to
sacrifice his happiness in such a horrible falsity, but it must
happen.  He swore to the dying Sister Helen that no one would ever
suffer again, and is making sure that no one ever will.  He is still a
human being, blood runs in his veins, a soul still rests within his
eyes, a conscious in his heart.  But he must struggle with them so
that he might save other war torn orphans, such as he, from his
same fate.  He suffers every day, but in him, good does prevail.


Cambele ask light up Sethus
And it was clear she couldn't go on
Then the door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew and then disappeared
The curtains flew and then he appeared
Saying don't be afraid
Come on baby


	The last one of these five pilots is the greatest enigma of all,
and the saddest.  WuFei Chang.  He was not the original pilot, he
was never meant to meet the battlefield.  But he is there none the
less, doing as much as all the other pilots combined to help.  He
claims he fights for justice, but in truth, he fights because of a
broken heart.
	His wife was the first pilot of the Shenglong, even though
WuFei was all the more talented.  But WuFei did not wish to fight,
and who can blame him?  He was no more than fourteen at the
time.  But that didn't stop his wife from piloting, it didn't stop her
from disobeying her husband, and piloting the Shenglong.  
	And it was from the cockpit of the Shenglong, after a
disastrous battle, that WuFei pulled her near dead body, carrying
her to the flower meadow she had loved so much.  He swore he
would avenge her, reek justice upon his enemies.  But he wasn't
using justice.  He was just a scared little boy that had watched his
wife die.  
	No, even though he has a clashing personality, and an
uncontrollable temper, he is to be the most pitied of them all.  They
all chose their fates, he was forced into it more than anything else.
I would not shed a tear in his misery, but I would look sadly back,
and weep in my thoughts.


And she had no fear
And she ran up to him
And started to fly
They looked backward and said
She had become like they are
She had taken his hand
She had become like they are


	Whenever I walk into a conversation about these five tragic
souls, I always hear people saying how cool it would be to pilot a
Gundam, how they would give anything to be in these pilot's
shoes.  When I hear comments like this, I can only shake my head
and walk away.  Would they truly want to sacrifice themselves for
this cause?  Would they gladly face death everyday?  Would they
be happy of their choice when they woke up in bed at night,
haunted by the faces of those they killed?
	No, no they wouldn't.  They only think it would be cool
because it is a cool anime, nothing more than that.  And it really
shouldn't be anything more than that.  I would hate to wake up one
night, when I am old, withered, and gray, and realize that we did
the same thing to five little children that happened to these five
little soldiers.  That is my worst fear, and I hope it stays where it
rests now, in the realm of nightmares only.


Come on baby
Don't fear the reaper