Raindrops drummed on the many objects of Earth. People and cars sped through the slightly heavy shower in hopes to avoid getting wet as much as possible. Pedestrians took any and all kinds of shelter they could afford, from street awnings to umbrellas to simply popped collars and a newspaper; as they made their way to their destination. Among the hustle and bustle of the busy day, a band of five young men casually made their way underneath their own umbrella. The people around them seemed to naturally split for them, like wind curving around a tree. There was nothing too special about them, but the sea of people parted at their presence. It probably had to do with the animated talking of one with a long braid of hair.

"And then all the sudden she came swooping down out of nowhere and bam!" Duo shouted, slashing his umbrella down like a sword. "And then her boomerang went flying!" He emulated said woman's stance as if he held the boomerang himself. His 'weapon' slipped from his wet grasp and whacked his Chinese comrade, Wufei, in the face. A low growl was heard from behind Duo and he tensed instantly as he turned to see the all to familiar twitching of the brow.

"Maxwell," he hissed under his breath through grit teeth.

"Eheehee…sorry?" He nervously laughed, grabbing his umbrella back.

"No harm done Wufei, I doubt an umbrella could really be your undoing." Quatre chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood. Trowa nodded in agreement with the blond pacifist in trying to help him transition the tension away. It seemed to be working as Wufei started to deeply breath in and out to calm himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

As the four went about the usual routine of the inevitable Duo irritating Wufei, Heero silently glanced down at his watch. It had been some time since the war, the peace was slowly growing and only minor battles broke out across the world. Nothing that needed the gundam pilots in action. It was a bit troublesome at first, but he slowly came in to a routine of forced sleep, ignoring the memories that haunted him, eat, work, and sleep once again. The only real outlet he had was running or some form of exercise. It kept his mind focused on something other than the sins of his bloodstained hands.

"Yo Heero, you listening…?" A hand waived in front of his face and out of instinct he grabbed it and jerked his head in to the direction of its owner-Duo Maxwell.

"Yes…?"

"You're spacing again…that's been happening a lot lately." Quatre spoke up with a soft frown on his gentle features. "Are you sure nothing is bothering you?"

"Yeah." He casually ran a hand through his hair, looking up to the cloudy sky. "I'm just tired." He sighed, that being his usual answer.

"How are you tired? We barely did anything except help people." Duo scowled a bit, opening his umbrella again so it was covering him from the rain as it should be, though pretty much soaked from his earlier antics. "Clients are boring as hell compared to what we used to do."

"Not the tired I'm talking about." His head shook from side to side as another soft almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips. I'm tired from something else. In fact, he had been tired for a while now, aside from the new ritual of clocking in and out in a boring morning to night job. He went from an ace trigger pulling perfect rebel soldier to a mundane sedentary pencil pusher. There was nothing new. Everyday was the same. It felt like he was losing himself, like a dusty picture in some old forgotten storeroom. He felt out of place even with his fellow pilots. They all had a peaceful past to some extent at least. His earliest memories consisted of how to use a gun to kill.

"You're feeling restless?" Trowa interjected as Heero leased Duo's wrist. Heero merely shrugged in response.

How do I explain something I don't even know?

The conversation was dropped after that and Duo picked up his story once again. The group listened on to their animated friend who had managed to provoke Wufei multiple times as per usual, but was repeatedly saved by Quatre. As the story came to its end, the five slowly began to split up on to their own paths home and Heero was left to his own devices again. He looked down at his free hand. It was clean to the naked eye. Callous and a little scared. The bones strong like steel from the frequent calcification from every fracture it has experienced throughout the war. To him, it was grotesque. Forever coated and stained a dark crimson that was nearly black.

The familiar sound of a guitar pulled him from his thought and he looked to see a mesmerizing sight.