A Coconut Thrown by a Monkey

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: Gundam SEED Destiny and its characters respectfully belong to Sunrise. The title is adapted from Anthony de Mello’s The Song of the Bird: A Coconut. This is a non-profit work.

Sequel to The Owl Policy. Better read TOP first before. More from Athrun’s perspective than Cagalli’s. Warnings for any possible OOC-ness and the absent of a proof-reader. Enjoy.

Notes: strange title yet again? Well, you’d just have to see why yet again...

peace in the struggle

to find peace

comfort on the way

to comfort

—Fumbling Toward Ecstasy, Sarah McLachlan

—First Part of Four—

One thing Athrun was sure of was that he could cook just fine.

He noticed how Uzumi Nala Athha grimaced as the man heard his very daughter, his own previous caretaker and trusted comrade, stormed to the kitchen and later found her in the kitchen’s doorway.

“Father.”

Uzumi winced at the murderous, cold tone of her daughter’s voice. “Yes?”

“I think I told you to make my guest feel like at home.”

“Er—yes?”

“I think I just went for a while to get some things at the grocery and look what you’ve done.”

“This,” Athrun cut in, “is what makes me feel like home.”

Annoyed, she glared at him. “Athrun Zala, let me remind you that we’re here to celebrate your birthday. That includes your not touching my kitchen to do anything.”

“You mean I have to just sit quietly and wait for the lunch to be served?”

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Now that’s boring.” He reached for a bowl near him, scooping a spoon of vegetable stew he had just done making. “Besides, it’s not like I can’t amuse myself in your kitchen. Try?”

“This is—” half-chewing, Cagalli paused, looking like she was trying to find anything to say that would not fan his so-called arrogance. Athrun had had enough of it already, she once joked.

“Edible?” smirking proudly, he tried to suggest a word.

“Eatable.”

He raised one elegant brow. “Cheat.”

“No, I don’t.” She shoved him and his father altogether. “Now, get off.”

“But, Cagalli darling—”

Now more irritated than ever, she glared more at Uzumi. “And, Father, please don’t let my guest come any nearer to my kitchen again.”

Uzumi, reluctantly admitting his not-so-welcome defeat, sighed and got a hold of Athrun’s wheelchair. “Come, Zala-san.”

He and Uzumi passed Lacus, who was on the way entering the kitchen, bringing the grocery bags Cagalli had shoved onto her arms earlier as she had heard the sounds coming from the kitchen. Smiling, Lacus bowed politely at them. He and Cagalli’s best friend were not in the best term at the first time, but now it seemed that he was getting better in getting along.

But that did not mean he would show it nakedly to Lacus, however.

“She’s banning you two from the kitchen?”

“Actually, I just happen to get a piece of her temper.”

“Father, I hear that!”

“Better go now, Lacus.” Uzumi laughed a little, pushing his wheelchair to accomplish her daughter’s command.

Command? Athrun thought. Well, that’s not new. Cagalli always get what she wants.

Not that he had any objection against that, anyway.

“Here you are.”

Athrun turned his head around to see her standing next to Kira’s wardrobe. Probably he had forgotten to close the door after him.

“Hiding yourself on your own birthday?”

He did not catch her bait and put his attention back to the big poster on the wall.

“When it’s taken?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. I wasn’t a model to pose, and even if I were, I wouldn’t wear my red uniform for publicity.”

His gaze did not waver when theirs met, and she smiled, soft and understandingly. The Athrun Zala on Kira’s poster was the Red Baron (1) he was once. Prodigal, dauntless, and strong. The red uniform was a proof enough.

She slipped quietly behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Dignity?”

“We don’t wear red for nothing,” he said, calm and collected as ever. “The Special Unit, that is. Loyalty and Integrity.”

“Oh, I know that slogan. Kira told me.” Her elbows were on his shoulder now, yet not digging in too much into his flesh.

He affirmatively hummed low, but did not make any sound for a while, before, “Cagalli?”

“Hm?”

“The lunch was pleasant. Thank you.”

Just like that and he let her knew that he was delighted to have his birthday celebrated, delighted to be in the middle of her family’s warmth, delighted to have a merry lunch and delighted to have her caring for him. It was one thing being thirty, but it was another thing to celebrate it after going through hard events in life.

“You’re welcome.”

“And why is that your brother gives me an entrance ticket of Paris Airshow for a birthday present, if I may know?” He moved a little so he could look at her face while still staying in the loose, semi-embrace.

Chuckling, she answered, “For you know, he’s even mulled over giving you your own portrait. He didn’t want to alternate his choice until I insisted on it yesterday.”

“My own portrait!” He could not help but joining her in amused chuckling. “As if I don’t have even one on my own. But say my thanks to him. It’s nice, though.”

“What do you expect? He’s my brother.”

“Of course. It runs in the blood, doesn’t it? The stubborn treat?”

“And you are arrogant. Prideful. And temperamental.”

“Yet you’ve been dealing with that arrogant, prideful, and temperamental man for almost two year.” And hopefully will not get bored of it, he added silently. “Tell me why you forbade me from your kitchen.”

“No, I tried to get rid of you from my kitchen.”

Athrun rolled his eyes in half mocking expression. “It’s my birthday, anyway. Shouldn’t you be, say, nicer to me?”

“Nicer? Eat my tongue.”

“Oh, I’d prefer to eat my stew.” He winced as one of her elbows dig itself into his collarbone.

“I know it.”

“Huh?”

“Somehow, I’ve known you can cook. Guess you’re just tricking me into cooking for you almost all the time.”

Cagalli was not the best person one might try to get advantage of, let alone to play around with, and Athrun knew it. If she let someone get that close to her to the point of ‘tricking,’ it proved more than anything that that someone was special.

The silly thought brought a small smile to his lips.

Well, it was not like he had done anything to get advantage of her or play around with her or even trick her, anyway.

“You’re really a nice person, Cagalli.”

At first he thought she might want to say: ‘Of course. Can’t let a war veteran starve to death, aren’t I? A trouble maker I may be, but definitely not a killer!’ But Athrun read deeper, really, and he would just have known what she was trying to cover.

Cagalli just sighed, finally smiling, wistful and soft so ever.

“Cagalli, Father sa—oops. Sorry...”

Turning around, Cagalli glared at her brother for having such a perfect timing to show up. She let go of him abruptly, and he, though half-heartily, suppressed the urge to nicely throw something at the innocent brown-haired teen.

“What?”

“Father calls you.”

Grumbling in annoyance, she stomped her way out of Kira’s room to get to Uzumi.

“Sorry I intruded you personal privacy.”

Blinking, Athrun stared at the now clumsy teen. Should not he be the one who apologized? “For what? This is your room.” Athrun’s gesture made an explanation that he should have asked permission to enter Kira’s room first. “I should be the one to say sorry.”

“A-ah, it’s okay. I’m really sorry, Athrun-san.” Kira shuddered at the memory of his sister’s dreadful glare. “Cagalli’s so going to kill me...”

Oh. That.

Of all things, Athrun never identified, much less personified, himself with the term of a romantic man. Hell, he spent most time of his life in military service, the so-called duty to serve the country and its people. When he had a hold of a gun, how could he think of being a nice lover? How could he was able to think of loving his enemy when he was ready to shoot?

Yet, that afternoon, he found himself together with the first and maybe the only woman he would put his trust upon at the beach, watching the sunset.

“Athrun.”

“Hm?”

At this point, she grew serious and quiet, and Athrun silently realized something had bothered her.

“You won’t get any trouble there?”

“They’ll provide a pair of artificial legs for me. I guess it can’t be worse.”

“And the term—”

“—is until the unit really deserves to wear the red uniform.”

She bit her lower lip, planning her words for a while, then, “This is what you want.”

Ah. He knew it. Athrun the pilot could only exist in the world of his own—in the air. Flying was the life of Athrun the pilot. Cagalli knew he would do anything in his ability to be able to go to the home he loved much.

Even if it meant to momentarily part from precious things he had gained the last two years.

“Yes.”

She shrugged her petit shoulders, as if uncaring, but he knew her better. “Then I’ll support you with my own way.”

“And your way is...”

Wordlessly, she took off her own necklace, a simple one with a red stone pendant, and donned it around his neck. He knew how precious it was to her, a remembrance of her late mother, and he was glad to receive such honour from her—as a friend, a partner, and maybe a lot more.

Cagalli bent down to kiss his forehead softly, in a very affectionate way that made him want to hold her very close. Somehow, he did not do it. He could not, anyway, because if he did, he would not want to let go then.

“Take care, Athrun, because I won’t be there for you.”

Perhaps it was because he was used to her presence that he was almost reluctant to go, but this was his life for all he knew. This was not a sappily romantic movie; she did not beg him to stay, and he did not change his mind to pursue his once betaken life. That was how adults cope with the realistic world.

They went back together to the Athha House with her behind him as usual. There was a faint ache in his heart as he recognized the sudden want to be the one who walked beside her.

Before they entered the house, she stopped, moving to face him and smile. “Silly Athrun,” she said. “You don’t have to think about it, really.”

“About?”

“That I’m going to stop being beside you.”

Athrun was quiet for a moment, before, “Are you sure you’re not a mind reader?”

“No, I’m a clairvoyant.” She rolled her eyes. “We’ve promised, remember? I won’t walk out from your life, and you,” her eyes squinted suspiciously, “won’t walk out from my life, will you?”

Of course not. “Hn.”

“Good.”

They had promised each other. Cagalli was not a person who would break her promise easily, and he was a man of his word. They would be alright.

Yes, he thought, we’d be alright.

(1) Manfred von Richtoven, a German ace of World War I. He’s said to be one of the best ace pilots in the air battle history. The real Red Baron was awarded the highest German military honor of the time, the Pour le Merite. Von Richtoven was shot down and killed by ground fire on April 21, 1918. Since ZAFT’s special units wear red uniform, I take the chance to use the name for Athrun. So sorry I just happen to explain about it just now, and no, I won’t let anyone shoot Athrun down...