Work Text:
Guilt
The guilt upon my shoulders weighs more than one can believe. I don't think that I'll ever be able to hold my back straight again.
Why?
I often wonder why. Why, was I the one chosen to do these deeds? To be brought into a war at the age of 15 is to seal the fate of ones life. And my fate is forever that of Shinigami, the God of Death. And what of Heero, Trowa, Quatre, or Wufei? How has this war affected them? I know not of their fate.
My hands are stained with too much blood, I'm afraid that they will never come clean. I can scrub them for hours, but I can still see the blood, the blood of those I killed, and of the families I broke apart. These things I can never undo.
You ask why I laugh.
That's simple, I laugh because it helps to hide how weak I am. It helps to hide my true feelings. You may say that I am not weak. Ahh, but you are wrong. I am not weak physically, but mentally this war has taken its toll. A solider, no a gundam pilot, is not supposed to be weak, he should not feel guilt or sadness for the people he kills or for their families. But I do and that is why I am weak.
Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, please forgive me. I know now that the path I chose was not right, but sadly I cannot go back and undo all that I did wrong. And for this reason alone I am guilty.