You can imagine what happens next.

Hagiography on Wikipedia | Golden Legend on Wikipedia | Trigun Maximum scans by @trigun-manga-overhaul | "Ozymandias" by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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[read it now on ao3~]

Livio walked back to the front doors like a sleep walker, followed the sound of cooking to the kitchen. He stared at Vash the Stampede’s back, watching him stir fry the bits of near-rancid meat with what else he could find in the orphanage’s pantry. Rice, some sad, wilted looking greens that were being revived by the hot, spitting oil, and bits of meat that made Livio swallow thickly to watch sizzle and sweat their fat into the oil of the whole thing. “Have a seat,” Vash said without turning around, his voice even and measured. “I’ll make you something to eat in a minute.”  “Stir fry’s fine.” Livio pulled out a seat at the table and sat down. Vash looked over, and, seeing his face, Livio could now tell that even more of his hair had turned black. Vash opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and Livio just stared back at him, silent and grim. He hoped it made his understanding clear. Vash closed his mouth, his entire expression shuttering with it, and turned his attention back to the stir fry.  “Meat’s a little off,” Vash said mildly.  “That’s fine.”  “Don’t wanna give you food poisoning.” “With my body, I doubt it’ll be a problem. If I can handle getting my jaw blasted off, I’m not too scared of an upset stomach.”  “If you say so.”  Vash flicked the pan with his wrist, and the stir fry arced up in a graceful wave of rice and cooking flesh before landing back down in the pan with a loud sizzle.  “I guess bread’s more traditional,” Vash said, seemingly only to himself. “And the booze is all gone.” Livio just listened. Watched. Watched as Vash cooked the rancid remains of Nicholas D. Wolfwood into a stir fry that smelled so good it made his stomach rumble.