Disclaimers: I own a Wolfwood action figure by Koyaido… and the entire series on DVD. Does that count?
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Somewhere in time, there is a circle.
Somewhere in time, the circle will be complete.
Somewhere in time, love is forever.

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On this desert planet we live upon, humans have made for themselves a wonderfully respectable existence. In many places that used to be nothing but harsh, dry desert, the ground has turned to become lush and green. Each town that I have come to, in my many, many years here now has trees growing along the sides of their streets. Some of the larger towns have rather great buildings sprouting up, the record height, so far, being twenty stories. It’s a very impressive sight, to walk along in a town like that. I remember a time when buildings wouldn’t dare go higher than two stories, and the ground was nothing but dust. There’s grass, now. Grass everywhere. Flowers like to sprout from cracks and crevices in the shade of buildings.

I suppose all of these rich times people are living in are due to the new development in water-refinery. We developed a way to actually expand the molecules of water, so that it lasts longer, and there’s more of it. I know it seems like a far-fetched idea. I mean, who would have thought that the expansion of H20 molecules were possible without changing the liquid form to a vapor in some way? It took nearly a hundred years for us to get the process right, but we finally succeeded, and now nearly every town has running water and irrigation systems built into the farms that have sprouted up nearby. It’s almost as if every town has it’s own geoplant.

I suppose it seems just as surprising for me to say that Knives was the original creator of this extravagant idea. He was the one who initially suggested it to me. He was also the one that lead the experiments, working more closely with humans than I ever thought him capable of. He truly makes me proud, and he never ceases to amaze me. I really do love him. Just when I thought he would never accept my ideals, never even budge an inch in his stubborn ideas that humans were not worthy of living, he actually forced me to aid him in facilitating them. I, of course, jumped at the opportunity, and was behind him, one hundred percent.

So, Vash the Stampede, now known in the everyday world as simply, “Vash,” is a semi-scientific genius, and is generally accepted by society. Knives is pretty much right there with me, although, he tends to shy away from the accepting crowds. He likes to keep his privacy. We work on the water refinements together, and even help out with maintaining the plants that power the cities. Knives doesn’t enjoy helping out with this as much as I wish him to. He still believes that people are taking advantage of our brothers and sisters. I suppose that’s to be expected, though. He’s changed so much; I can’t expect him to accept all of my ideals. At least, not in so few years. I guess I just have to give him time.

Knives really has become more like a human than I ever thought him capable of. I took him out drinking last night. He actually mingled with some people. He talked to a woman there who was overseeing the upkeep of the plant. They argued for a while, and I saw Knives give her a few not-so-friendly looks here and there, but overall, he was very amiable. He kept his crass, hurtful comments to himself and did his best to enjoy his vodka on the rocks and the polite conversation that the night led itself into. I couldn’t stop watching him the whole time. I was amazed at how friendly he could be to some people. All of this change in nearly a hundred years’ time. Sometimes I wonder if he’s doing it just to please me, or if he really did want to change. Regardless of his motivations and hidden agendas, I’m just happy to see him like he is.

We’re pretty well known, I guess, and that sometimes causes Knives some problems. He gets nervous when children come up to him and want to play. Everyone knows me, and how much I like kids. I guess they just kind of assume that Knives is the same. It’s almost humorous to watch as his face contorts into some sort of expression bordering on confusion and outright insanity. He really doesn’t know what to do around kids. I usually save him from the moment and get the kids to leave him alone, often by letting them put me into some sort of odd, twisted, pretzel-like position. That usually satiates their playful needs until the next day.

I guess that, all in all, we’re happy here. Knives and I still wander around from town to town, though we take the sand steamer more often now that we have the money. Creating a generally prosperous planet is bound to pay a man some good money, don’t you think? I like to convince Knives to let me drop by and spend some time with Millie’s grandchildren. She’s got thirty-seven of them. Big families seem to be pretty normal for her family. Sometimes it’s hard to remember all of them by name, but I’m getting better at it, the more I see them. Meryl’s children, on the other hand, are easy to remember. She’s got three of them: Vash, Knives, and Nicholas. They’re all grown now, and have children of their own, whom I like to see just as much. I suppose I should say that I’m honored to have one of her sons named after me, but I’m not. I always considered my name to be something special to me. No one on this planet, that I know of, ever had that name. I guess that back then, no one would want to name his or her son after someone like me, the walking disaster area, the localized act of God. I was, needless to say, fairly upset with Meryl for naming her third son Nicholas. For some reason, I was even more upset about that than when she had named her first Vash. I guess that, in a way, I felt that naming him Wolfwood would somehow betray the real man’s memory.

God, now that I think about it, I’m still not over Wolfwood’s death. Sometimes I even get angry at Knives for what happened to him. Knives still doesn’t know just what Nick and I were to each other. Our friendship went far beyond that of a normal camaraderie. Sometimes I wish it were more than it really was. I wish that I had laid claim to the courage, back then, to tell him how I truly felt. Unfortunately, now I’m forced to talk to a rough, worn gravestone about times long past. I still cry sometimes, when I go to visit him. I miss him so much. What I wouldn’t give to see him just once more, carrying that huge gun-loaded cross around on his shoulder and smoking his blunt, crooked cigarettes that used to eat at my nerves sometimes. I never really liked the smell of cigarettes on him. I remember everything about him, to this very day. I remember his smoky, dark-blue eyes that always seemed to be glazed over in thought or recollection, the way the light would shine on his dark hair, or his face. He seemed to nearly glow when that happened. God, and his smile. I can’t even get started on that. He was my best friend, and my only real friend back then. When I needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on about my troubles and the fact that I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel and let my brother have his way with the world, he was there for me. He saw through my superficial smiles when I didn’t even realize that they were not heart-felt. I guess, all in all, he was the catalyst in my life. He was the one that really kept me going. Sure, Meryl and Millie were there with me. They helped out some, too, but I was always pretty uncomfortable around them. I couldn’t even bring myself to ever use their names, even in thought. Meryl was always too bossy, and Millie too innocent. I didn’t want to drag them into the shambles that my life had been in. Wolfwood, though… he could handle himself in any situation. He always had my back, and I had his. Looking back on it now, I realize that my respect for him, my fragile friendship, meant more to me than I would ever let on to anyone, including myself. It meant pent up love and passion and lust, all rolled into a tiny ball and wrapped tightly inside my chest for safekeeping.

Damn my inhibitions to hell…