Sink to the Bottom With You: Ragnarök - Chapter 7

Chapter Text

“The invisible hovercraft...of course...” —Jezebel

I haven't been myself lately,

I don't blame you for

not wanting to stay.

Saying things that I don't mean,

Not meaning what I say.

When it's good, it's so good,

When it's bad, it's SO BAD.

Even when I knew what I had

What am I supposed to say,

when I end up driving everyone away?

Cause, I am on fire,

A crying, burning liar,

Seeing nothing, nothing, but myself,

And I'm the one with the lighter

“Again”

—Gumi—

The sharp rat-a-tat of rain beating against the metallic roof of the Highwind rang out in a deafening chorus, the accompanying torrent of water raging down the airship’s co*ckpit window leaving the world beyond little more than a collection of murky and ill-defined smudges. The combination of oppressive sound and blurred vision had transformed the co*ckpit into something like a sensory deprivation chamber, drowning out everything that lie beyond its cold metallic frame. It was just as well, though. Reno of the Turks was feeling fairly murky and ill-defined himself.

The red-headed Turk took another long drag of his cigarette.

It had only been six days since Reeve had been kidnapped right under Reno’s nose. Six glacial, agonizing days in which his whole world had been flipped upside down, thrown on the ground, and kicked in the crotch all over again. Might as well have been 25 years for how long it’d felt. At long last, though, they’d finally rescued their president. Finally completed their mission. Even with Mother Nature killing Mideel’s phone lines, they were still able to use the airship’s archaic fax machine to send in the good news to Neo-Shinra HQ. Another successful Turk op for the books, right? So why...why did he still feel so...

Reno grimaced.

He saw her lifeless body crumple to the ground with a scythe embedded in her abdomen, having leapt in front of him and taken the blow in his stead despite everything she’d done to him prior. He remembered that feeling of unmistakable relief that washed over him as he saw her revived by Titus, and the anger that filled him every time that same man ridiculed and demeaned her thereafter. Every miserable look that came over her face as that cold-hearted bastard went on and on about his sad-sack life was another knife in Reno’s side. It was killing him.

Horrible pangs of doubt and uncertainty were beginning to cloud his mind, threatening to crumble his conviction and drown out the hatred that had fueled him for so long. Uneasy thoughts and feelings plagued him that called into question everything that had defined him for the past four miserable years of his life. “Whats,” “hows,” and “whys,” that had been shuttered to the periphery of his mind until that fateful night in that cellar had forced him to finally confront them. And underlying them all was a more basal truth. One that threatened to tear his whole world down.

“You still love her.” Cloud’s words from the day prior floated in the air.

He did. He really did. And he hated himself for it.

Every time he saw her face and the pain it held, his heart ached. He still lost himself in the beautiful brown almond eyes of hers every time he saw them. They were the eyes his daughter had inherited from her. Mika’s eyes. The same eyes that loomed heavy over his guilt-ridden conscience every time the hatred slipped out of him. Eyes that again and again reminded him of what a failure of a man he had always been.

That woman had their daughter’s blood on her hands. He’d seen it staining them himself. Yet here he was, starting to question that fundamental truth a whole four years too late, because deep down under all the anger and malice and all the blood he’d shed, he still loved her. It made him so sick he could puke.

His hand absently brushed against the handle of Vincent’s Silver Rifle, which was still strapped to his waist. Its cold metal frame made his fingertips tingle. Things could become so much less complicated so easily. No more clash of emotions ripping his mind asunder. No more anguish and doubt. It would only take a moment—one bend of a finger—and he could be free. Just let himself melt away like the world outside the window, his life resolving as nothing more than a meaningless scratch in the Planet’s timeline. Petty and insignificant, just as it was meant to be...

“Hang in there for as long as you can, Reno. Believe it not, your loss would be a great blow to all of us...”

Smoke billowed out from between his lips with a frustrated sigh. He grabbed his face and shook his head.

What the hell’s the matter with me?...

“Elena will be sad if she sees you doing that,” Rude’s deep voice echoed from the far side of the room, firm enough to overpower even the deafening rain.

Reno took out the cigarette from between his lips and rubbed its burning tip against the side of the control panel. He doubted Cid would notice a little more ash amongst the piles that already decorated the poor abused thing.

“More like she’d be pissed,” Reno replied, “I’m sure we’re all looking at terminal lung cancer with how many packs the old man’s been burning through lately. It’s a miracle of nature that guy isn’t dead.”

“Not the smoking, Reno,” Rude said flatly, “she’d be sad to see you brooding up here all alone and letting your thoughts eat you alive again.”

Reno blinked in surprise, then let out a mirthless chuckle.

“Heh, sh*t, man. Everybody just keeps going right for the goddamn jugular lately. We really are all a bunch of natural born killers, huh?” Reno said in mock humor, though there was no joy to be found in his voice.

Rude strolled up to Reno, removing his sunglasses. Even after all the time they’d been working together, Reno could never get used to the sight of his partner’s bright green eyes. Au naturale, not Mako eyes like his. They struck such a contrast with Rude’s otherwise muted features, and, despite the sordid lives they’d all led as Turks, they were still full of such kindness. No wonder he’d always kept them hidden.

Rude looked him over with concern.

“You really scared us back in Junon, you know.”

Reno just frowned and put his hands behind his head.

“I know, I know. I’m... I’m sorry about all that. Really...”

“...Are you...feeling okay, Reno?”

“...You know, partner, don’t think I can say I am.”

“Ah...right.”

“...”

The deafening roar of the rain filled the air between the men, neither knowing what to say next. Rude was far from the most suited person to lend a comforting shoulder to his comrades; his hard-knock upbringing in the slums of Junon hadn’t exactly left him a personable individual. There were other things to worry about back then.

In that depraved world of drugs, guns, prostitution, and misery that had arisen from the collapse of the Republic, his gang had needed brutish muscle far more than it needed kind words and open ears. There wasn’t exactly time to ruminate over their collective trauma when a rival gang could’ve burst through the door and filled them all with lead at a moment’s notice. If anybody back in that miserable ghetto had been the one to uplift the others—to give them the hope that there was a better life on the other side of that hell—it had been Kyra. And by Shiva, he was nothing like her. If anyone was, it was Tifa Lockheart, but he couldn’t ask any more of her than she’d already done. Rude had always been the firm hand of the Turks—blunt and to-the-point—and that’s what he’d have to be here.

“...Who is that woman?” Rude finally asked.

Reno frowned and leaned bonelessly against the Highwind’s control panel.

“Heh. Turks aren’t supposed to have pasts ya know, let alone ask about them,” he mock-chided, “Once you sign up, all that stuff goes away. You’re just another company asset—not even a surname to your record—just a soulless drone for doing ‘auditing’ or whatever the hell they called it. That’s what made it so appealing to me back then, when Tseng pulled me out of the gutter and offered me the job. I could forget everything and just leave it all behind...”

Rude said nothing but watched Reno intently.

Reno pulled his pack of cigs out of his jacket pocket and lit another up. He was going to need it.

“Her name’s ‘Alette,’ or at least that’s what I knew her as. Goes by ‘Fa-Li’ now, I guess,” Reno started, “she was the love of my life, if I could ever call anybody that. Helped me realize that there was more to being alive than drugs, alcohol, and violence—taught me that there was joy to be had in hard work and living honestly...”

Reno turned away from his partner and looked distantly out into the fuzzy world beyond the window, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“She was my wife, and the mother of my child.”

Rude’s eyes widened at the statement. He’d suspected some love affair gone wrong—the Reno he knew had always been a womanizer, after all—but his wife? And they’d had a child? In all the time he’d known Reno, he never would have imagined...no wonder...

“Alette and I had a daughter together. ‘Mikayela Dayanera Mitsuru,’ but we always just called her Mika...”

Reno turned to look at his bald-headed friend, eyes full of sorrow.

“That little girl was my everything, Rude. She gave my life meaning. Just being there in the morning to sit and watch Barney or Stamp with her was reason enough to get me out of bed. Even while I was killing myself working two jobs to provide for our family, I did it with a smile. If it meant Mika could live a happy life, I’d have gone to hell and back. As long as she was happy, nothing else mattered. But...”

Reno quaked at the memory. It took another hit of nicotine to steel his nerves.

“But one day, everything fell apart. I came home and Mika was gone, nowhere to be found. The only one in the house was Alette—sitting all alone with a blood-stained wooden block in her hands—not saying a goddamn word to me. I lost my sh*t; tore the place up in a fit of blind rage. Told her if I ever saw her again, I’d f*ckin’ kill her, and stormed out. Up till a few days ago in Junon, I’d never seen her again after that...but she was always there, in the back of my mind.”

Reno shook his head despondently.

“All these years I’ve blamed her. I didn’t question how or why; I just knew that whor* had killed my daughter. She must have. And that hatred buried me. I was a dead man walking for a whole year after, drifting from one place to another with no thoughts at all. If Tseng hadn’t picked my sorry ass up off the street and made something of me, I’d probably have rotted away a long time ago.”

Shadows seemed to fall over the Turk’s Mako-green eyes.

“But something irreplaceable died in me that day. ‘Honesty,’ ‘love,’ ‘joy,’ ‘hope,’ whatever you wanna call it. All that was left in me was hatred, emptiness, and all the women and booze it would take to drown them. To drown the memory of that starry-eyed little girl in her pink dress, and that bitch who took her from me.”

A frustrated grin snaked its way onto the man’s face.

“Yeah, that’s right. ‘Reno Akuma Mitsuru’ was just some hazy little dream I had once upon a time. ‘Reno of the Turks’ was all I needed to be—a heartless monster in a blue suit who would level an eighth of a city and kill a thousand ‘Mika’s without question or remorse just because the fat man up top said so. It was easier to live that way—detached, without a conscience or any sense of culpability for my actions. Orders were orders, and the consequences were no concern of mine. The light had left my life already, what the hell did I care about anyone else’s?”

Reno bitterly snickered to himself.

“Hehe, nice excuse, right? The woman you loved kills the daughter you loved even more, and suddenly you get a free pass on all the evil sh*t you do! ‘Sorry that everyone you ever knew and loved died an agonizing death in a heap of burning rubble, kid, but I was real sad, okay?’ Hehe...HAHAHA.”

Reno suddenly kicked the Highwind’s control panel so hard it left a dent in its metal frame.

“What a miserable f*ckin’ joke!”

Rude frowned at his partner, but said nothing.

“But here we are on the other side of that blood-stained history, finally working to do some good in the world thanks to Reeve, and what happens? He gets kidnapped! And then who should finally turn up again after all these years but that bitch, dressed in some slu*tty body suit and paired up the very asshole who took him! Isn’t that just rich? What incredible timing! What are the odds!? And right when my daughter started haunting my dreams again, too! It’s like the Planet itself wanted to sucker punch me right in the goddamn face!”

Reno let out a sharp exhale. He was suddenly feeling so tired... He let his back slide down the side of the control panel until he was sat on the floor, placing his cigarette in his mouth. Smoke despondently floated into the air.

“...When I saw her in that cellar, I was ready to kill her. If Valentine and the mutt hadn’t gotten in my way, I would’ve ripped her limb from limb right there and then—with my bare hands if I had to. Avenging my daughter’s death was the only meaningful action I could still take in my waste of a life. Consciously or not, it might have been the only thing keeping me going all that time. Now, though...”

Reno turned again to look out at the blurry world beyond the window.

“Now... I dunno anymore, man. I just don’t know...”

Rude walked over and sat on the ground across from his partner.

“...You...still love her, don’t you?” The bald Turk asked hesitantly.

“Heh...everyone really can just read me like a damn book, huh?” was all his red-headed partner said in return.

Reno took his cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it away.

“...She saved my life, Rude. Everything that happened between us—even after I tried to kill her—and she saved my damn life. Nearly f*ckin’ died for me. And I was worried about her. I wanted to help her.”

Reno ran his fingers through his red hair.

“...Was the guilt too much? Was she trying to repent for what she’d done by giving her own life for mine? Is she just as f*cked in the head as I am and still holding out a flame despite everything that’s happened? Or else...”

“She told me that she had come to Midgar from some land very far off, to escape from an oppressive family or something. Actually, the words she used were ‘family curse’ but...”

“Or else...”

“One day I came home only to have her tell me that she was pregnant. She wanted to get rid of it, but I didn’t.”

“Or...”

“Never once did I stop to ask myself why in the world Alette would have killed her own daughter. There was no motive.”

“...”

“I never asked myself just who Mika’s ‘tall man’ was or if he might have had something to do with her death.”

“Alette...Fa-Li...”

“The only truth you can take away from him is that his hatred for the world is genuine, and he will take whatever action he deems necessary to see his will done. That, and that he is extremely good at using people to those ends.”

“Why...why did she join up with that ‘faction,’ anyway? Did she just happen to fall in with them after I left her?... Or...?”

“Aha! There you two are!”

Reno practically jumped out of his skin at the interruption. Elena was standing in the entryway to the bridge, one hand on her hip. Her attention quickly shifted to the discarded cigarette on the floor. She sniffed the air, and her face soured.

“Agh, damn it Reno! You were smoking, weren’t you!” she chided, waving a hand in front of her nose, “Come on, all my clothes already smell like an ashtray from being around Cid so much—don’t you start too!”

There was a pregnant pause after the exclamation—Reno and Rude casting sidelong glances at each other. After a moment, a grin found its way onto Reno’s face. Not long after, a laugh rang through the air.

“Ahahaha! I TOLD you man! I TOLD you! Ahahaha!” Reno chortled out, kicking his legs and clutching his stomach.

Before he knew it, Rude found himself joining in. “Heheh, yeah, you sure did. You sure did. Heheheh.”

“H-hey! What’s so funny!?” Elena shouted, annoyed and confused.

“Your face, Laney!” Reno teased between giggles.

Elena blushed in embarrassment.

“Ggh... Would you two quit slacking off and come to the conference room!? The President has something he wants to tell us.”

With that, she turned and left the room in a huff, mumbling “Geez! Not Rude too... Is my face really that funny?”

Rude got to his feet and returned his sunglasses to his face, extending a hand to Reno.

“Duty calls.”

Reno grabbed his partner’s hand, and Rude helped him to his feet.

“That it does, partner. That it does.”

“You gonna be okay?” Rude asked.

Reno put his arms behind his head and looked up contemplatively. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. There’s just...a lot of things I’ve gotta think about.”

“Elena and I are always here for you, you know...”

“I appreciate it,” Reno said, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, “but if there’s anyone you should be worrying about right now, it’s probably the brat.”

Rude gave a solemn nod.

With that, the men too exited the bridge, leaving nothing but the sound of the pouring rain once more.

** ** **

Murky gray light filtered into the quiet hospital room through the rain-soaked windows, casting a dreary aura about the room. Compared to the frenetic energy that had once engulfed it, the place was now as quiet as a tomb—only the soft snoring of Cloud Strife and the pitter patter of the rain present to keep the young woman company. And yet, despite that stillness, a thunderous boom still echoed through Tifa Lockhart’s troubled mind.

“ENOUGH!”

She shuddered involuntarily at the phantom sound. In all the time she’d known Vincent Valentine, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him as enraged as he was then; eyes full of burning embers, staring down Titus like he’d skin the man alive at any moment.

I guess there really is a beast lurking under that cool demeanor of his...

She shook her head, regretting the thought as soon as it came to her.

No, that’s not fair. I shouldn’t think like that. He was just...worried about her...

Another phantom sound came then; the ragged breathing of a girl who’s entire world had just crumbled to dust. Yuffie’s panicked gasps had broken the deafening silence brought on by Vincent’s outburst, drawing the room’s attention her way. There was a horrified thousand-yard stare twisted onto her normally cheerful face, her fist clenching the fabric of her T-shirt so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Even after Tifa had asked her if she was okay, the young ninja made no sign that she’d registered the question—only continuing to stare off into whatever horrible vision had clouded her mind. It was only when he...

~*~*~*~*~

After a belabored moment, Vincent Valentine released his prey and turned to the girl.

“...Yuffie?” he asked, carefully approaching her and delicately lifting his right hand to place on her shoulder, “are you...?”

The moment he made contact, the girl’s dilated eyes snapped back into focus, meeting his own crimson orbs.

“Ah...Vinnie...”

“Yuffie...?”

“Ah... Ggh...”

She shuddered violently, and in a swift motion brushed his hand from her shoulder and bolted out of the room without another word.

“H-hey, kid!” Reno called out, but she was already gone.

Everyone in the room stared dumbly at the entryway for a moment, still in shock at what had occurred, until...

“Well, well. It seems keeping secrets wasn’t okay after all, eh Valentine?” Titus said in an irritatingly flat tone. Vincent merely glared at him in reply, before racing out the door himself.

“Yo, Valentine! Wait up!” Reno said as he made to follow after, but a brawny hand grasped at the back of his shirt collar to stop him in his tracks.

“Hold it,” Barret gruffly commanded.

“The hell? What’s your problem, ya big—”

The large man lifted Reno up and twisted him around such that they were face-to-face.

“This here’s somethin’ Vince has gotta deal with on his own,” Barret sternly said, “he doesn’t need a noisy little twerp like you makin’ a mess o’ things. Got it?”

“...Who’re you callin’ a ‘little twerp,’ you—”

Barret unceremoniously dropped Reno, who landed ass-first on the ground with a hard plop.

“Good.”

The man’s hard expression softened.

“‘Sides...ain’t you got your own thing to be worryin’ about?” he said, casting a half-glance toward the other side of the room, where Fa-Li miserably leaned against the wall. Reno followed his gaze, look turning pensive, but made no further remarks.

Barret... I didn’t realize anyone else knew what was going on between Yuffie and Vincent... Tifa thought to herself, surprised by the usually boisterous man’s perceptiveness. Well, I guess that’s what comes with being a parent.

She solemnly turned her attention back to the door.

Yuffie...

~*~*~*~*~

An hour had passed since then.

In the wake of Reeve’s recovery and Titus’ revelations about the threat they all now faced, AVALANCHE had much to do and even more to think about. Before long, the various groups had filtered out of the hospital room and off to tend to their own matters.

Reeve and the Turks made for the Highwind in hopes of informing Neo-Shinra of their President’s return, as well as to let Cait Sith know his creator was alive and well. It seemed to Tifa that Reno also needed some space to think about his own issues.

Barret and Cid made for the local inn to book rooms for the evening, bringing Titus and Fa-Li along to keep an eye on the pair. As a token of good will, Reeve had requested the duo be released of their bonds—though they all knew by then that a set of handcuffs would do little to inhibit Titus regardless—but the pair still weren’t entirely trusted. For their part, neither ex-faction member made any objection.

Red XIII strolled out onto the porch of the clinic and plopped down, closing his eyes in supposed contemplation of the current ongoings, but before long he’d completely dozed off.

Cloud had elected to stay with Tifa to keep her company while she recovered from her burns, but in no time at all his own obvious exhaustion had gotten the better of him as well, and his head was currently sat upon his folded arms in Tifa’s lap. It really had been a hard few days for everyone.

As for Yuffie and Vincent...

Tifa looked to the dreary gray sky outside the window.

They’re still not back yet...

It was a familiar situation—Tifa staring out a rain-drenched window at the equally rain-drenched world beyond, worrying aimlessly about Yuffie and Vincent, unable to shake the feeling something terrible was going to happen. Tifa knew well the pain of losing a mother at such a young age; the hole it leaves in your life, the loneliness you can never completely escape. Yuffie had been living with that for the past twelve years on top of a strained relationship with her father, and to only now learn that such a horrible fate had befallen her...

I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling right now...

Tifa leaned back in her hospital bed, putting her arms behind her head and closing her eyes.

I always got the sense that she was compensating for something...that she was taking on that brashly cheerful and combative attitude of hers to draw a comfortable line between herself and other people. Part of that just comes from being a teenager, sure, but I also think on a deeper level she’s just afraid of letting herself be vulnerable—of processing her own feelings and letting herself feel close to someone again. That she had to keep up that persona so no one would take her too seriously—to think about how she really felt underneath. I guess now I understand why...

Tifa thought back. Back to that innocent beet-red blush that had come across the girl’s face when Tifa had called Vincent “ugly.” Thought back to how determined Vincent had been to liberate her from the faction’s stronghold, and how gingerly he’d held her as they made their way to Junon—never leaving her side until she’d regained consciousness. Though Yuffie never stopped being Yuffie, Tifa could tell that something had shifted within her over that past week, and within Vincent as well. The thought stirred familiar feelings in Tifa’s heart.

When I was young, I had this childish little wish. That someday, when I was in a bind, someone that truly loved me would come and save me. It’s a little embarrassing to think back on—Cloud even laughed at me when I told him back then—but in the end, that special someone was still there when I needed him the most.

She looked down at the sleeping man in her lap and smiled, patting his head.

Vincent... I think Yuffie has been secretly holding out for someone like that, too. For someone who will really care for her and look out for her; someone who will take her seriously and let her feel her emotions honestly and without ridicule. All this time she’s been alone in the world, shutting herself out from everyone, but Vincent...I think...I think she’ll let you in, if you’ll allow her. You yourself need that reassurance as well, I’m sure. So please...

Please...

Suddenly, something clicked in Tifa’s mind.

~...All alone in the world...not letting anyone in...~

~...Hurting deep down inside...hiding it with a brave face, a co*cky attitude...~

~...They prey on the weak, the downtrodden, people with no place left to belong. They give them purpose...~

“Oh... Master Zangan... I messed it up again, didn’t I?... I’m sorry... Please... I’ll do better next time... Don’t leave me.”

“Don’t leave me...”

A pair of forest-green eyes appeared in Tifa’s mind, surrounded by a blazing inferno. They weren’t burning with the co*cksure arrogance she’d come to know them to have, however; They were instead filled with a profound loneliness—a bitter sorrow. The fire wasn’t an expression of blazing passion, not a display of ferocious might, but was a defensive shield—a barrier to keep everyone and everything away—so that none would see its owner’s pain, so that he would never be hurt again. She reached out for the lonely eyes, feeling a strong urge to comfort them, but in the next instant the vision was gone.

Tifa opened her eyes, arm extending to the dim ceiling above her. She lowered it to rest against her chest again.

...Yes, that’s right. Everyone has something they’re running from, don’t they? Some hidden pain they don’t want anyone to see...tears that go unshed. It took his back being to the wall to get Titus to open his heart to us and share his sorrow—how his trauma had been twisted into an instrument of destruction by an evil man who saw him as nothing more than a tool. If that’s what happened to Titus, then...

“You feel that, Lockhart? That heat is the passion of youth! Of freedom!” Montana’s voice echoed through her mind, now sounding more desperate than self-assured. “Someone like you, who’s tied down by the ways of an out of touch old bastard could never hope to overcome it!”

...How was it that man came to know Dawn’s Fire, anyway? If he’s not a true member of their cause, then why did he...?

Tifa looked to the sky once more, distantly.

I guess everyone has their story...

~*~*~*~*~

The rattling of chains echoed through the dark as the congregation were led down the way. It was a grotesque sight—a conga line of disfigured men and women with chunks of flesh and even limbs missing, all bound together and made to shamble though the dank tunnel. Despite their sorry state, an armed escort of MPs yet flanked either side of the double-file line—the signature glowing trifecta of red lights on their helmets nearly all that lit the way. At the front of the group leading the ensemble was a man in a blue suit who walked on with grim purpose, and a man in a stained white lab coat jaunting alongside seemingly giddy with anticipation. The air in the tunnel was rank with the smell of filth and decay—no doubt a byproduct of the sewer system it connected to—but none in that group seemed to mind. Filth and decay were what they’d known all their lives, after all—poured down upon them from that monstrous plate that had blotted out their sky. The pedestal for the great Mako City of Midgar.

How many of them had yearned for that gilded paradise above? Dreamed of its marvels and splendor night and day as they stared at its underbelly from their hovels? Hoped to be whisked away to the prosperous life it promised as they begged for scraps from apathetic passersby? She’d known she had, at least. From her spot in the gutter, abandoned and left to rot because of her bum leg, the thought of it was the only hope she’d had left to keep her from withering away. So, when men from the Shinra Electric Power Company came to her with the offer of fixing her body at no more cost than her signature on a scrap of paper, she thought God himself had finally come to answer her prayers. Oh, how that raven-black helicopter looked as if a chariot of gold, then—there to escort her up to heaven...

The flimsy pole that served as her makeshift prosthetic leg caught on a gap in the tunnel’s rusted steel floor, and she collapsed to the ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Get up and keep moving, you little sh*t!” one of the MPs yelled, before striking the girl’s face with the butt of his rifle. She reeled back at the blow, blood trickling from the fresh gash on her cheek, but didn’t utter a sound. The capacity to express dismay had been robbed of her just like all the others—extracted piece by piece under those blinding white lights now so far above. After a moment, with a strained effort, the girl slowly wobbled her way back to her feet.

“Hehe...now now, do calm yourself,” the man in the lab coat said in some mockery of an affable tone, twisting himself to look at the trooper who delivered the blow, “they may have been failures as specimens, but they do still have some value as collateral. Take care not to damage them any further, would you?”

“A-ah, of course, sir. My apologies, Professor Hojo,” the MP nervously replied.

The mad professor merely grinned a toothy smile in reply, yellow teeth glistening and oily skin creasing around his eyes, before returning to his compatriot in the blue suit. After a few more silent minutes of walking, said man finally spoke up.

“We’ve arrived at the agreed upon rendezvous point, Professor.”

Indeed, it seemed they’d hit the end of the road. Before them was a large circular door that seemed to serve as the cap of the tunnel—the words “Transport Tunnel E-07” boldly emblazoned on its dimly illuminated surface.

“Excellent, excellent,” Hojo said with a cackle, “If you would do the honors, Mister Verdot.”

“Of course, sir.”

The blue-suited man made for a console on the wall by the door. With a tap of his ID card and a few keystrokes, the massive door lumbered open. The ghastly odor that permeated the tunnel grew yet more pungent as the stale air of the sewer pour into it, the troopers having to lift their bandanas over their noses to block out the smell. Even the girl, despite her state of miserable apathy, couldn’t help but scrunch her face in reaction to the assault on her senses. From behind her closed eyes, she heard the mad Professor perk up in surprise.

“Well, well! I wasn’t expecting you to attend to this transaction personally, oh ‘Wise One.’ Now isn’t this a rare treat.”

She heard a group of footsteps crossing the threshold into the tunnel, then a voice—cold as ice.

“Greetings, Professor. My hunters are pursuing a certain...lead, at the moment. Some business out on the Western Continent. So, I thought I might see to this myself for a change. Get some ‘fresh air,’ you could say.”

“‘Any excuse to stretch your legs,’ as the saying goes,” Hojo said with a smirk. “There always is a certain satisfaction that comes with doing things yourself, I must say. Hah, hah, hah...”

The girl finally pried open her eyes to see who the professor was talking to.

At the mouth of the tunnel stood a small group of people, arranged in perfect symmetrical form. In the front were three robed men—one on the left and one on the right who wore stern expressions, and a man in the center whose face was entirely shrouded by his hood. On either side of that trio was...

She blinked. And blinked again. And a few more times. After confirming she was seeing things correctly, a chill ran down the girl’s spine, and she felt her mind spark back to life. Accompanying the group of robed men were two bald figures dressed entirely in black combat fatigues whose faces were entirely devoid of features. Where eyes and mouths should be, there was only smooth skin. They were like monsters out of a nightmare.

The hooded man stepped forward past the mad professor, approaching the bound group of invalids. The girl couldn’t see his eyes, but felt as though he was looking them over.

“So, these are the specimens, then?” the man asked in a flat but questioning tone. She couldn’t say for sure, but the girl thought she could feel him staring at the gash on her cheek, “They seem...damaged.”

Professor Hojo placed his hand on his chin contemplatively.

“Yes. This particular batch was part of a test trial for a certain experimental procedure the President bid me to develop—code name: AdM-ReGenesis. You see, several breeds of fiend are capable of regenerating lost appendages—some even going so far as to be able to regrow internal organs. As you might imagine, such an ability would be invaluable for a combatant, and so the goal was to transplant that trait into a human subject. The President’s aim was to eventually create a new breed of trooper—one that could rapidly recover from even the most grievous of injury and outlast any opponent...”

“Human regeneration...an ambitious prospect indeed,” the hooded man lamented enigmatically.

“Yes, well, with his little war dragging on, the President has become restless. He’s looking for any way to expedite things, I suppose. I keep telling him he need only let me continue to develop the SOLDIER program, and all those trifling matters would be dealt with in short order. The P0 Types have already seen such success even as ordinary humans...and Sephiroth’s exploits on the field have become renown the world over even at his young age... Hrn, would they only let me infuse them with Mako, and her cells...”

The oily-haired Professor shook his head.

“My apologies, just some irksome things plaguing my mind. In any case...” Hojo gestured to the group of brutalized people he’d brought with him, “...as you can see, AdM-ReGenesis was an utter failure. Not one of the subjects was able to inherit the desired trait; all were left scarred and broken by the testing with nothing to show in return—utter failures to the last.”

He sighed and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“So unfortunately I don’t think this group will be the most suited for your own...‘purposes,’ either.”

The hooded man stood in quiet contemplation for a time, before finally giving a reply.

“No, even ones such as these have their uses. It is no issue,” the man turned to his compatriots. “Come. Collect them.”

With a subtle motion of their arms, the two other robed men seemingly commanded the bald creatures toward the chained-up group—the girl shuddering further as she got a better look at their blank faces. With an exchange of nervous glances, the MPs surrendered the specimens into the Faceless Men’s care.

“You really must let me inspect one of these ‘Myrmidon’ of yours sometime, Mateus,” Hojo said with a sickening grin, leaning in close to admire the creatures, “I would simply love to know what makes them tick. Hah, hah, hah...”

“Another time, perhaps...” the hooded man said with disinterest, shifting his attention to the robed man to his left. “Give it to him.”

The robed man walked over to the man in blue, who still waited by the terminal near the door. He produced an envelope from within his sleeve and handed it to the man, who accepted it without a word.

“See to it that the information in that envelope gets to your President, if you would,” Mateus said. “There’s an isolated archipelago in the northeast that I am sure he would be very interested in taking a closer look at.”

“...Of course,” the blue-suited man replied simply, tucking the envelope into his jacket pocket.

The hooded man nodded with satisfaction.

“Then, this exchange is concluded. Let us be off.”

And with that, the robed men made back for the sewer tunnel from whence they came, their faceless servants escorting their newly acquired “materials” close behind.

“Your services are appreciated as always, Wise One,” Hojo said with a grin, giving a wave, “don’t be a stranger, now.”

The large circular door sealed shut behind the group with a thud that echoed throughout the filthy hall, sealing the fates of those miserable wrecks in-turn.

For most of them, any semblance of hope had already died up in that lab long ago—this dreary turn met only with those same dead-eyed stares of minds long gone. For one among them, however, the sound of that dismal thud and the sight of the yawning darkness that lie ahead were yet proving too bitter a pill to swallow.

“Aah...aaagh...”

Frustrated tears began to well in the young girl’s brown eyes, the dim apathy that had clouded them giving way to a newfound light born of anger and sorrow.

What had she done to deserve this? What heinous crime had she committed to warrant her body being ripped apart by a madman? What sin was so great that she deserved to be dragged down to hell by faceless ghouls? That she dreamed of something better than the foul hand she’d been dealt? That she yearned for a body that worked, that she envied those not cursed by her affliction? Was it too haughty a desire to not want passersby to look at her like some piece of discarded filth? So evil a thing for an eleven-year-old girl to want a chance at a normal life—to be happy? Was that truly so terrible?

“Aaagh... *sniff* agghh...”

Something was building in her; a strange sensation she’d never felt before. Was it despair enveloping her body? Did her soul quake with rage? It was as if every cell inside her came alive all at once—her mind alight with activity. She felt...

“Ah, my poor child...”

“H-huh?...” the girl looked up, breaking from her trance. The hooded man was looming over her now, seemingly drawn to her cries. He knelt down in front of her—dirtying his robes on the filthy brick of the sewer floor—and lowered his hood. Though his face was scarred and wrinkled, the old man’s granite-blue eyes shown with a sympathy she’d never have expected from one with a voice so cold.

“This is not where you belong, is it? Not among these poor condemned cretins whose sins put them here.”

“...Sins?” the girl squeaked out after a moment; the accent of the slums unmistakable in her voice.

“Yes. This lot was pulled from the dredges of society—petty thieves and gangsters whose malignance led them here—their minds broken by their own crumbling hubris. Surely that can’t apply to one such as yourself, however. Merely a girl...”

“I... My leg didn’t work... They said... They said they could help...”

“Hm... I see. Yes, it is human nature to take advantage of the less fortunate. A poor innocent child abandoned to the streets is all too easy a target for men such as those who abused you. Truly vile creatures, are they not?”

“...” The girl hesitantly nodded.

“Well, you needn’t worry any longer, child,” the man said in a voice totally unlike that which he had spoken to the professor—caressing her perfectly unblemished cheek with his wrinkled hand, “We’re no such despicable wretches as them, even if we must unfortunately do dirty dealings with men like that Professor to achieve our ends.”

He turned to one of his robed compatriots.

“Release her.”

“At once,” the man replied with a bow, before producing a key and removing her cuffs.

The girl rubbed her sore wrists, still in shock at the sudden turn, “Ah... Um... Thank you...”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile, “I seek to liberate victims of the world above, such as yourself. I would never dream of subjecting you to such horrors as people like those deserve.”

“...” she looked around uncertainly.

“I take it you’ve nowhere worth returning to out there. Well then...” he extended a hand to the girl, “there’s always a home for those cast off by the surface in our ‘faction,’ if you’d have it. It’s a safe-haven for those such as yourself—a place to belong.”

The man was correct. What would await her were she to return to the slums now? Abject poverty? Scrounging around on the streets to survive? It was hardly anything that could be called “living.”

“We need people such as yourself,” he continued, “people who understand what this world is—who have seen the depravity and rot festering in the kingdom of man. It is only those hardened by experience who can truly fight to ensure such cases as yours may never occur again. Idealists who have never know true hardship would never be able to take the necessary action.”

The girl cast a forlorn look down to the steel bar grafted to her left leg.

“It is no issue. I would never turn you away for such a petty trifle as that.”

Some new feeling welled up inside the girl at the man’s words. If she’d known better then, she might have called it “hope.” With only a moment of hesitation, the girl shakily took the man’s hand into her own.

“Tell me, child—what is your name?”

“...It’s—”

~*~*~*~*~

Jezebel blearily opened her eye, the cool breeze of ocean air and the light pelting of the rain gently stirring her back to consciousness.

“Aah...” she groaned out wearily, slowly willing her right eye open and casting her gaze around. She was floating in midair high above the sea—seemingly nothing beneath her save for the clouds that hovered some distance below—drifting away to some unknown place out on the horizon. It was a surreal sight.

~...Still dreaming...~ she lazily thought to herself, but the pain that wracked her body told her otherwise.

“No such luck, I’m afraid. Sorry, Jezzy,” a young, masculine voice spoke on her left. She groggily turned to face the speaker, body aching. Beside her was her “partner,” shirtless and sitting on nothing—hands extended and grasping the air in front of him.

“Montana...” she croaked out in a hoars voice. She felt as though her ribcage had been crushed in a vice; speaking was a laborious process. “I told you...not to call me that...”

“And good morning to you too, sunshine,” he said, not taking his focus from the sky ahead—red headband blowing in the wind.

Jezebel looked down to the ocean again.

~...The invisible hovercraft...of course...~

The Shinra prototype craft they’d procured used state-of-the-art technology to disguise itself from all standard light frequencies, making itself invisible to the naked eye. Only infrared goggles or sonar might be used by a normal human to detect it, but for those with a strong psychic prowess such as the assassin duo, it was no issue.

The woman bounty hunter shook off the remnants of her dream and strained to sit up, focusing her mind on perceiving the craft through its cloaking device. As it took shape in her mind, however, a sharp pain shot through her skull.

“Agh—!”

Jezebel grasped the left side of her face, wincing in pain. It was only then that she remembered that her left eye wasn’t just stubbornly staying closed, it was completely missing.

“Tch,” she clicked her tongue before slumping back into the cushioned seat she couldn’t see, the pain coursing through her head making it impossible for her to concentrate. She’d been bested again—completely failed to live up to her Master’s expectations a second time, and once more been left a miserable wreck for her troubles. It was as frustrating as it was humiliating, and she felt as though she ought to just curl up and die right there.

~Pathetic. Utterly pathetic...~

She shook her head and turned again to her partner, anticipating one of his usual snide remarks about her total failure to eliminate even one of AVALANCHE’s rank—let alone capture Cloud Strife or Titus—but as her lone eye landed on him, she found he wasn’t paying her any mind. Instead, his forest-green eyes were fixated distantly out on the horizon, an uncharacteristically pensive grimace coloring his face. His mind was somewhere far, far away—totally lost in reflection. She knew all too well what such a look meant on her capricious partner.

Hmph. He must’ve failed to finish off that Lockhart woman again as well. Perfect, just perfect. No wonder the useless idiot never stepped in to help me.

She sighed, slouching even deeper into her invisible seat and looked to the dismal gray sky above.

~What a miserable state of affairs. AVALANCHE had us completely outclassed; we didn’t so much as put a dent in their number... And to make things worse...~

She shuddered as she recalled the enraged look on the platinum-blonde man’s face as he swatted her away like an insect—not exerting even the least bit of effort.

~...it seems Titus and his whor* have completely fallen in step with them too. The situation couldn’t be any more dire.~

The grimace on Montana’s face deepened at the mention of his would-be rival, and his focus returned to the present.

“Just one crock of sh*t after another...ain’t it just swell,” his grip on the yoke of the hovercraft tightened. “You know, Jezzy, it’s starting to feel like if anybody’s ‘cannon fodder’ around here, it’s...”

Before the pair could ruminate further on their failures, a familiar dark energy began amassing in front of them, drawing their attention.

“Oh great, and if it isn’t just my favorite little fella—right on schedule,” Montana grumbled out.

Before them, hovering a few inches above the hood of their invisible craft, was the astrally-projected form of Ajax, the same placid smile pasted on his face as ever.

“How ya doin’, Mr. High Priest?” Montana said with put-on friendliness.

If the boy had registered the snideness in the man’s tone, he made no obvious indication of it. Instead, he leisurely cast his gaze across the battered forms of the assassin duo beneath him—soulless blue eyes pointedly lingering on Jezebel’s especially ravaged personage.

“My, my. I do believe I’m getting a sense of déjà vu here,” Ajax said in his usual light and airy tone, “I take it things didn’t go so well for you this time either, then?”

“Oh no, it’s all sunshine and rainbows up here, Ajax. Whatever would’ve given you that idea?” Montana said with icy sarcasm.

Ajax sanguinely let the quip pass without remark, instead saying “And I can’t help but notice that the two of you are all alone, none of your targets to be seen. Unless perhaps you’ve got them stashed in the trunk? Hehehe...”

The bounty hunter pair didn’t laugh at the joke. Ajax shook his head with a shrug.

“Another failure then. Oh, what a shame, what a shame...” the ominous boy continued, the smile on his thin lips taking on an imperceptibly more sinister edge, “well, I suppose I ought to commend the both of you for managing to make it out alive, at least. Can’t say I was entirely expecting that...”

A burst of flame shot through Ajax’s head, his hologram briefly deforming in reaction. The High Priest’s empty blue eyes drifted over to meet the enraged emerald of Montana’s—the black flecks within seeming to grow more prominent with his anger—but Ajax made no immediate reaction to the transgression.

~With all due respect, High Priest,~ Jezebel telepathically projected in a displeased tone, ~AVALANCHE and the Turks are two of the most dangerous groups on the face of the Planet, not some average gangsters or thugs. I know that ever since the collapse of the deep-ground complex things have been in disarray within the faction, but even so; expecting the two of us alone to deal with twelve of the most skilled fighters the world over without any additional support—while ordering us to keep their leader ALIVE no less—was completely unreasonable. Even someone like you should be able to see that.~

“Oh? Is that right?” the robed boy replied enigmatically.

~This is a critical juncture, High Priest. It seems Titus grew bored of playing the prisoner and truly has thrown in with AVALANCHE now, making them all the deadlier. It’s a job simply beyond what two hunters are capable of handling alone now. If you’d just agreed to my strategy of picking them off one by one back in Junon, we wouldn’t—~

“You wouldn’t be questioning your Master’s wisdom, now, would you little Jezebel-chan?” Ajax interrupted in a voice devoid of its previous faux affability.

A look of abject horror shot across the woman’s face at the words, so startling that even Montana broke from giving Ajax the stink-eye to look her way. In all their time working together, he’d never seen Jezebel so mortified.

“...Ah...n-no...of course not...” she croaked out in her ragged voice.

“Of course not,” the boy echoed back, plaster smile returning to his lips.

An uneasy silence fell between the trio. Something had just happened that had Jezebel shaken to her core, but Montana had no idea what. She’d always been a loyal dog to the Master—seemingly more devoted to their ‘Wise One’ as a person than the faction’s actual dogma—but Montana had no idea it ran this deep. It was...unsettling, to say the least.

After a few awkward moments, Montana decided to speak up in her place.

“Well, I never imagined that Titus would go crawling to AVALANCHE of all people for help...but if they’re really all buddy-buddy now, then that means he’s probably dumping out every last secret he knows about our underground-fun-club as we speak. Hell, I’d bet he and Fa-Li are the ones who slipped ol’ President Reeve out of his cell while all that sh*t was going down back in Midgar, so chances are AVALANCHE has their big corporate sponsor back in their pocket by now too.” Montana ran a hand through his messy brown hair in exasperation, “Look. I know things heading up sh*t creek gets your masoch*stic little rocks off, Ajax, but shouldn’t even you be a tiiiiny bit worried by now? I doubt the big man is gonna be thrilled, anyway.”

The wicked and unnatural smile on Ajax’s face only widened in response to his subordinate’s disquiet. It was a look Montana didn’t like one bit.

“Very astute concerns, Montana, but you two still don’t seem to understand,” the boy said, spreading his hands wide, “the plan is already in motion. Whether or not AVALANCHE is aware of our faction’s secrets is no longer of any concern. In fact, it may prove to be a boon to us. The greater a threat they believe we pose, the more inevitable our ultimate confrontation becomes, after all.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Montana asked, eyes narrowing.

“While you two have been scurrying about keeping our foes busy, we’ve been carefully analyzing the information we extracted from the girl,” Ajax continued, “it took some time to decipher the language and parse the meaning, but the path has at last become clear to us. We know exactly who it is we seek, and what it is we must do. The Master has finished relocating the faction to the deep-sea complex, and the ‘problem children’ have been culled from our flock. The stage is at last set for the final act of our grand play, we need only to secure the players.”

“Pft. Well, that hasn’t exactly been going well, if you haven’t noticed,” Montana spat, irritation unmasked.

“But that’s where you’re mistaken,” the High Priest replied undaunted, “while your continued failures have been a minor setback, ultimately they’ve served to set a foundation all the same. Through your campaign of terror, AVALANCHE has become all too aware that we’re not some minor inconvenience that they can safely ignore. Indeed, they now view us as an existential threat that they have no other choice but to confront, lest their world crumble to ash all around them. And in their vein effort to put an end to our machinations, they will come racing right into the palms of our eagerly awaiting hands—our prodigal son right alongside,” the boy clasped his hands together with a pop. “We’ll have our chosen four right where we want them, and our new age shall dawn unhindered.”

It took a moment for Montana to process the grandiose-sounding vagaries that poured from the boy’s lips, but when it all clicked into place, the fire in the assassin’s heart kindled anew. “Wait a second, are you saying we’ve just been goddamn bait all this time? You sent us out on those stupid fool’s errands just to get AVALANCHE’s attention, so they’d come running right into your lair!? That’s all this was!?”

Ajax merely gave an unconcerned shrug in return, “If that’s how you choose to see it, I suppose.”

Another, stronger burst of white-hot flame ripped through the High Priest’s astral form, causing it to momentarily dissipate before reforming—Ajax totally unscathed. Montana was on his feet, fist pointed directly at Ajax’s head, eyes filled with a look that could kill.

“I don’t know if you recall, Mr. High Priest, but I’m no devout follower of yours. I don’t give a single sh*t about you or your beliefs—or that freakish nightmare thing you’ve all sold yourselves to, for that matter. My mind, body, and soul are all devoted solely to the Fire God Ifrit and the Shido no Hi Ryu he gifted me. The only reason I’ve gone along with you wackadoos all this time was to test my own strength against the challenges you’ve offered me, and not a damn thing else. If you think I’m just some little toy train that’ll trudge down whatever miserable track you put me on, then—”

~That’s enough, Montana!~

Montana twisted his body to face his partner, who was giving him a stern look with her lone eye. The martial artist looked down at her with disgust. “And when the hell did you become such sorry a pushover, Jezzy? Were you always this pathetic? They reject your plan to handle this tactically and instead tell us to blindly charge at AVALANCHE like idiots—apparently for no other reason than to ensure we make a nice strong first impression—and you’re just gonna take that? You really that subservient to ol’ daddy dearest?”

~I said SHUT UP, Montana!~ Jezebel commanded more forcefully.

A fit of laughter came from over the martial artist’s shoulders, snapping the two out of their stand-off. The duo’s attention was drawn back to Ajax, who seemed as though he was having the time of his life.

“Hehe...now, now, there’s no need for all that,” he said, wiping a mock tear from his cheek, “if you’d managed to eliminate the other members of AVALANCHE and captured Yuffie Kisaragi, Titus, and Cloud Strife as you were ordered to, it would’ve been just as well. However, the main objective was always simply to bring them back to the faction, and in its own way that is exactly what shall occur. The specifics don’t matter much in the end.”

Montana was about to open his mouth for another biting rebuke, when Ajax leaned in so close to his face that their noses were practically touching.

“And besides, Montana—if you were to defect now, you wouldn’t be able to settle up with Titus, now, would you? Or Tifa Lockhart, for that matter.”

A vision flashed through the assassin’s mind, then. A platinum-blonde man and a brunette woman stood over him; one with green eyes full of boredom and disgust, the other with auburn eyes full of sympathy and concern. Both looks infuriated him just the same.

“I see your scar has healed nicely.”

“Hold on, you knew my master?”

A deep frown formed on his face, and his scar began to itch. He hated this feeling...this petty, indignant rage. It was his greatest failing as a martial artist—his greatest weakness as a person—and yet it was the very thing that had pushed him to become the man he was. Without it, he’d have been just like the rest of those little sh*ts back in that dead-end town—running to that same hill at that same time just to watch that same train go by again and again day after day, never dreaming of anything beyond the dreary track that’d been laid out for him.

“Your lust for revenge clouds your mind, Montana.”

Heh. Ain’t that the goddamn truth.

The assassin glared daggers into Ajax’s unconcerned eyes, and then curtly plopped back down into his seat—eyes closed and arms crossed. “...Fine. Whatever you say, holy man.”

“Glad we have an understanding,” Ajax said with an empty smile. Montana didn’t dignify the boy with any further reaction.

~...So, High Priest, if we’re no longer expected to hound AVALANCHE, then what exactly are our orders?...~ Jezebel probed, warily.

“So glad you asked,” Ajax replied cheerily. “For the time being, the Master simply bids that you both return to our underground lair. We’d like all our ducks in a row ahead of the big day, you see. There’s still much preparation to be done.”

The High Priest crossed his arms.

“However, there’s a little pit stop I’d like you to make on your way back. There’s a certain something I’d like you two to collect for me.”

“What, did your cat o' nine tails finally break?” Montana quipped.

Ajax let the mocking jab pass by. “Let’s just call it...‘insurance,’ in case our dear prince needs one extra nudge, hehehe...”

Jezebel and Montana looked to each other uncertainly, then back to the boy.

~...‘Prince’?...~

** ** **

Cloud Strife’s eyes shot open.

He was standing in the middle of an abyssal void, an infinite expanse of darkness stretching endlessly all around. Before him sat a twisted throne, whose grisly visage had haunted his nightmares once before. Faces contorted into visceral agony were masterfully carved into its obsidian surface—the black material somehow seeming yet darker against the nothingness surrounding it. Cloud was almost surprised he couldn’t hear the wails of those tortured souls echoing out into the expanse.

At the foot of the throne lay High Priest Ajax, limply splayed out upon the ground with his throat torn out and his loose black robes strewn carelessly about his person. Despite his wrecked state, a wicked smile still found itself frozen upon the boy’s lifeless face—his icy blue eyes no hollower in death than they were in life. The vibrant red blood pooling from his neck struck a brilliant and jarring contrast against the blackness of the surroundings, and Cloud couldn’t help but absently trace the ruby trail up from the boy’s body to the seat of the throne above. What met his eyes there was a dark purple dragon, furled up in its raven-black wings with Ajax’s blood trickling down from its silver claws. Its aquamarine eyes stared intently into the vivid Mako-blue Cloud’s own as their gazes met.

Cloud blinked.

Sephiroth sat upon the throne, gazing into Cloud’s eyes with the same aquamarine, gloved hands caked in Ajax’s ruby-red blood. He smirked at Cloud, and then turned to caress one of the throne’s agonized faces.

“This was mine once, you know,” the man said with melancholic nostalgia, “the future of this world lay in my hands; the fate of all that lived mine and mine alone to decide.”

He dropped his hand, blood trickling from the carved face’s chin.

“But alas, it wasn’t to be... Not in this life, at least.”

He met Cloud’s terrified gaze once again.

“You saw to that with masterful form, Cloud,” he said, sounding almost proud in a morbid way.

Cloud thoughtlessly stared into the man’s eyes a moment longer, before something jolted inside of him and his mind snapped to back attention. Jumping back a few feet, Cloud drew his blade from his back in a rapid motion, trying vainly to steady his rapidly beating heart. This was just a nightmare. It had to be.

“You’re not real... You’re...dead! I killed you with my own—”

He looked down at his own trembling hands, grasped around the handle of the Ultima Weapon. The blade throbbed faintly with every nervous quake of his muscles. He couldn’t suppress his fear.

“Oh, you need not remind me,” the silver-haired man said in a tauntingly casual way, “it was the crowning moment of our time together.”

Cloud looked back from his hands to the man. Sephiroth was shirtless, bare chest lacerated with grisly wounds. His smirked deepened as blood trickled down his forehead.

“Even now I can feel every last blow, rest assured.”

Cloud blinked.

The man had returned to his regular black cloak, nary a drop of blood on him beyond that of the dead boy at his feet.

“But that was then, and this is now,” Sephiroth rose, outstretching an arm toward Cloud, “I have a favor to ask.”

Favor...? Cloud thought, cold sweat forming on his face.

“Our beloved Planet is dying. Slowly. Silently. Painfully,” Sephiroth continued, “though you wrested its fate from my grasp that day, there are those who yet clutch at it with vain and desperate hands of their own.”

Sephiroth pressed the tip of his leather boot into Ajax’s back and kicked the boy’s lifeless body in Cloud’s direction. His brilliant red blood streaked across the black as he rolled to Cloud like a ragdoll, smiling dead eyes looking vacantly up into Cloud’s own as he came to a stop at the swordsman’s feet.

“If one such as that were to snatch this world away from you now, it would serve only to sully the precious memories we’ve made together.”

Cloud was having trouble breathing, sweat pouring down his face as he gasped ragged, strained breaths. The pulses from the Ultima Weapon grew brighter and brighter as it quivered in his hands.

“T-the Planet?... Since when do you care about the Planet!?” Cloud finally managed to choke out. “You wanted to destroy it! You tried to blow it all up with a giant hunk of space rock! Where do you get off calling it ‘beloved!?’ What do you care about its future!?”

Sephiroth merely shook his head, wicked smile never leaving his face.

“Were the Planet to die, so many things would be lost,” Sephiroth carried on, voice smooth and even, “the look on your face as I descended upon her... The quiver of her flesh as it yielded to cold steel... The quaking of your heart as it filled with a rage that wasn’t even there...”

Cloud’s heart raced harder, his grip on his sword tightening.

“That which binds us would be no more. And though this world is but a vestigial branch long forgotten, I would be loath to see it tainted so,” he gestured a hand to Cloud, “which is why I must ask you this one favor.”

“W-what the hell do you want!?” Cloud asked, terror unmistakable in his tone.

Sephiroth smiled at him.

“Don’t worry. It’s a simple thing,” the man said cooly, “carry on as you always have, Cloud. Stake your claim in this world that you’ve won. Let no others take it from you. That is all I ask.”

He stretched his arms out broadly.

“And in time, I shall forge our Promised Land.”

Cloud gritted his teeth, blood going cold.

“What are you planning!?” Cloud demanded.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with...for now.” Sephiroth replied slyly.

“Grgh... Bastard!” Cloud yelled, gripping his blade and leaping toward the man. Sephiroth raised his left hand to meet Cloud’s strike, massive katana apparating out of thin air to block the heavy blow. The two men stood with swords clashed, sparks illuminating their faces.

“A magnificent weapon,” Sephiroth said effortlessly, admiring Cloud’s blade, “a sword forged by the Planet itself—bestowed only upon its chosen wielder. The champion of the Planet, whose strength and resolve have been proven beyond all question—the very prince of this world’s future.”

Sephiroth wrenched his own sword upward, splitting up the dueling pair and sending Cloud skittering back.

“I’m sure it will continue to serve you well.”

“Grr... What makes you think you can ask anything of me!? Why the hell are you even here!?” Cloud angrily demanded again, “You’re dead! A bad memory! You have no power anymore! Not over the Planet, not over me!”

“Oh, is that right?...” Sephiroth said with something like amusem*nt in his voice. His aquamarine eyes bore into Cloud’s essence, focused and cruel.

Cloud’s head grew light the next instant—static noise clouding his mind. It was a sickening yet familiar sensation...one he hadn’t experienced in over a year. Not since he’d killed Sephiroth at the heart of the Northern Crater and finally broken the hold the mad SOLDIER had over him...or so he’d thought. The world was spinning, Cloud’s head pounding in agony as the maddening deluge washed over him.

In the blink of an eye the blackened void and the twisted throne faded away, and Cloud instead found himself standing on a paved road. After a disoriented moment, he realized that he recognized the location: the end of the Midgar Expressway. But rather than looking out to the horizon with his friends at his side—the dawn’s light heralding in the start of their journey—what instead met his eyes at the end of the road was far more foreboding. Sephiroth’s silver hair billowed in the cold wind as the blackened horizon expanded far beyond him, smiling all the while with a knowing look that chilled Cloud to the bone.

What’s going on? Cloud thought to himself.

~What are you...? Ah?~ He tried to speak, but the words were loose and watery, evaporating in the air. His mouth didn’t so much as move, and no sound came out.

“And you... You’re wrong,” a voice spoke from behind him, heart-breakingly familiar.

~Aeris...?~ Cloud tried to turn to face the voice, but he couldn’t move his body any more than he could his mouth. It seemed he was merely a passenger along for the ride of this strange vision.

“Those who look with clouded eyes see nothing but shadows,” Sephiroth responded cryptically.

“Everything about you is wrong,” Aeris’ voice spoke again from behind him. He wanted so desperately to turn, to see her face, but his body wasn’t listening. His eyes were trained squarely on the wretched man before him.

Gghh! Damn it! What’s happening? Is this a memory?... But...this never happened!

“Should this world be unmade, so too shall her children.” Sephiroth spoke from the end of the road. Sephiroth was responding to Aeris, of course, but somehow Cloud felt the enigmatic comment was also directed his way.

Cloud felt his face harden.

“The world won’t end today. But you...” his body spoke, but the words weren’t his. He felt his arm reaching over his shoulder and grasping the handle of a sword, pulling it down to challenge that mad SOLDIER before him, “You will.”

The Buster Sword—something his friend Zack had left for him after Shinra’s army gunned the rouge SOLDIER First Class down—was gripped tightly in his hands. The texture of its leather grip was familiar...the sensation of it almost comforting, in a way. It’d been a long time since he’d held the sword last. It was now stuck on the hill where its true owner lay, overlooking the city he’d died trying to reach. Or rather, that’s where it should be...

Cloud shook the sentimental feelings from his mind, refocusing on the perplexing scene before him.

~Sephiroth! What is this!? What are you showing me!?~

“Listen,” the man responded, looking up to the sky.

All at once, the city of Midgar shook with an ear-splitting howl, the Planet’s cry of pain ringing out far and wide as a foreboding energy rippled the atmosphere. Billowing black smoke that undulated as if alive burst forth from somewhere behind him and quickly coated the entire city, forming a massive flowing wall behind Sephiroth. Cloud’s body covered one of his ears with his free hand.

~Agh! Wh-what is this!?~

Sephiroth outstretched his arms in reverent form, eyes filled with maddened ecstasy.

“Destiny comes.”

Cloud’s vision went white as static filled his mind once again. He could practically feel his soul leave his body as a wave of crackling energy pounded against him. It felt like reality itself was straining and contorting to a near breaking point in the wake of whatever nightmare Sephiroth had wrought, but Cloud would be denied the sight of its culmination. It wasn’t his battle to fight, after all. And so, as reality slipped away into incoherent white noise, he thought he could hear Aeris’ voice calling out to him one last time from somewhere far, far away.

“This is the point of no return. Destiny’s crossroads.”

Cloud opened his eyes. It was now he who was seated upon the monstrous throne, agonized faces resting in his bloody hands. Sephiroth stood where Cloud had been before, still smiling that wicked, knowing grin.

“That’s yours now, by right. You claimed it with your own hands when you struck me down that chosen day,” Sephiroth said, placing a foot on Ajax’s lifeless head and looking down at the boy’s body with disgust, “see to it that tired dullards such as this don’t defile it, won’t you?” With a sickening crack he crushed the boy’s skull under his boot, then met Cloud’s eyes once again, “I’ll be going on ahead now. There is much work left to be done. Take care of this little world, prince. I’m counting on you.”

With that, Sephiroth turned, and walked off into the darkness. Cloud leapt from his throne and ran after the man.

“Sephiroth, wait! What was that vision!? What are you doing!?”

But his bounding footsteps got him nowhere, and the man was already gone. All that remained to hear his desperate words were Ajax’s corpse and the endless abyss.

And his cries echoed on and on and on...

** ** **

“Ah!”

Cloud Strife shot up, raspy breaths escaping his throat as his head rapidly spun around the room.

“Se-Sephi...”

“Cloud?”

The blonde man flinched, and whirled in the direction of the voice.

“Cloud? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

A pair of auburn eyes stared intently into his own, twinged with a faint hint of concern. They were nothing at all like the icy aquamarine of the dragon’s. After a disoriented moment, it finally clicked in Cloud’s head that the eyes were none other than Tifa Lockhart’s.

“Tifa...?” he breathed out, finally registering his surroundings. He was back in the examination room of Dr. Campbell’s clinic, alone save for the woman in front of him. Realization dawned on him, and he looked down to see his hands resting gingerly on Tifa’s lap—a small drool spot on the blanket where he’d evidently fallen asleep. A deep blush came over his face, and he quickly retracted his arms.

“Ah, uh...sorry, Tifa. Guess I fell asleep, huh?” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

“Sure did. And had a heck of a nightmare to boot, apparently.”

“Yeah... A nightmare...”

At least, I hope that’s all it was... he thought to himself, still unable to get that man’s voice out of his head.

“I’m counting on you...”

He shook his head, and looked to Tifa. “...Anyway, how are you feeling? Sorry I conked out on you there.”

“Hehe, don’t worry about it. It’s been an exhausting week for everyone—I’m sure we could all use a good nap or ten.”

Cloud smiled, practically feeling the bags sag under his eyes. “No kidding.”

“Besides...” she continued, voice becoming slightly more distant, “I had some...stuff...that I needed to think about.”

Cloud gave her a quizzical look. “Stuff?...”

Tifa twirled her hair in her finger absentmindedly, uncertain if she was ready to dump her half-formed feelings onto the hapless man who’d only just woken up.

“Well... Let me ask you, Cloud. What do you think of the Turks?”

“The...Turks?” he replied, even more puzzled.

“Yeah. It wasn’t so long ago that we were out to kill each other, but now here we are working toward a common goal...looking out for each other. That’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?”

“I suppose...” the swordsman replied, folding his arms together, “they’ve proven reliable allies, and at the very least Elena and Rude are pleasant enough to work with...but ultimately, that’s only because they’re loyal to Reeve. If Mr. ‘New Age’ Rufus Shinra were still around, I’m sure it’d be a different story.”

Tifa frowned at the reply. “You don’t think they’ve turned over a new leaf? That they regret what they were a part of and want to work to make amends?”

Cloud sighed, pausing for a long moment before replying.

“...They pushed the button on Sector 7, Tifa. Biggs, Wedge, Jessie...all those people in the slums...all gone in an instant. I don’t mind working with them for the sake of Reeve and the Planet...hell, I’ll admit that even Reno can be an okay enough guy when he wants to be, but...but I don’t think that’s something I can ever forgive. I doubt people who are willing to do something like that can ever really change.”

Tifa’s eyes grew saddened, and she cast her gaze down to her lap.

“...We aren’t so innocent ourselves, you know...”

A thunderous explosion cracked through Cloud’s memory, mixed with the smell of Mako and burning concrete. All around him people ran in a panicked daze—fire and debris filling the streets, screams filling the air. It was a calamitous act that would up-end countless lives; a declaration of war with no concern for the casualties. All enacted to satisfy the vengeful grudge of a grieving widower playing at being the Planet’s savior, and to indulge the twisted delusions of an insecure child pretending to be a hardened ex-SOLDIER. How many people had died that day for such petty things...?

“...You’re right. I’m sorry, Tifa,” Cloud responded meekly, “there’s plenty of guilt to go around, and I shouldn’t be so quick to cast judgement. We were all caught up in a lot of chaos back then, and I know something has been eating Reno up inside for a while now...”

Don’t need to go throwing the guy under the bus all over again...

“...But Tifa, why are you asking me all this anyway?”

The woman’s hands clenched together, cluttered thoughts milling around her head.

“Well... I’ve just been thinking. Everyone has their reasons for doing the things they do, and just because someone was once our enemy doesn’t mean they always have to be. Mr. Titus was taken advantage of and made to do terrible things as well, and yet he also now wants to work with us to protect the Planet...if only begrudgingly. And if that’s how things are for him...”

Then maybe that’s how things could be for Montana, too... Tifa thought, but wasn’t sure if she wanted Cloud to hear.

Cloud sighed, not wanting to put Tifa down but not wanting to lie to her either.

“I guess I’ll just tell you my feelings straight, Tif,” Cloud began with some trepidation. “If somebody we’ve come to blows with is willing to put aside the past and work with us to fight for the Planet’s future, then I won’t make a fuss about it. However, just because somebody has some tragic backstory doesn’t mean the terrible things they did are suddenly justified, and it certainly doesn’t mean their so-called ‘redemption’ would be well-intentioned...”

“Our beloved Planet is dying. Slowly. Silently. Painfully...”

Cloud clenched his teeth, suppressing the shiver that was running down his spine.

“...but I suppose that’s the sort of thing you’ve gotta judge on a case-by-case basis. Everyone’s different, and all.”

“...Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Tifa replied half-heartedly.

A lull fell between them then, filled only with unspoken thoughts and the sound of rain.

Cloud wasn’t sure exactly what Tifa was thinking, but he could tell she was burdening herself with thoughts for other people again. Whether it be helping Marie take stock at the bar, rubbing Yuffie’s back during particularly bad bouts of motion-sickness, or even putting up with he and Reno’s stupid self-absorbed angsting, Tifa Lockhart was always one to lend a kind hand to those in need. It was something he’d always admired in her...something he could never hope to match himself, but it also concerned him sometimes. She put so much energy into pleasing the people around her that she always seemed reluctant to meet her own needs—to make her own feelings known. He supposed they had that in common, in their own way. Trouble saying what they really felt. Making the big moves. But even if she was always troubling herself with others’ feelings, maybe...as long as there was someone there who could always trouble himself with hers...

Cloud shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Say, Tifa... Once this is all over... I was wondering if...if maybe...”

“...Cloud?”

Their eyes met. A certain energy buzzed in the air.

“I...”

A breathless moment passed.

Infinite potential filled the space.

Everything could change then and there.

And then...he receded.

“...No, never mind.”

Coward. You’re a God damned coward.

He turned his head to the bleary world beyond the window.

“...I guess Yuffie and Vincent still aren’t back.”

“...No. They’re still out there,” Tifa responded sadly.

“I hope they’re okay...”

** ** **

The streets of Mideel were desolate and abandoned—the residents of the secluded jungle village having already sequestered themselves in their homes to escape the coming storm. Shops lay vacant as their keepers knew none would be stopping by, and even the pub—usually host to a myriad of bored locals with little else in the way of entertainment—sat barren and empty. People in this part of the world knew better than to challenge the might of Mother Nature; one foul turn of her mood and their entire town could be wiped off the map. If she wanted them indoors, that’s where they’d be. And so, the muddy streets lay bare—completely bereft of life.

That is, save for Vincent Valentine.

The black-clad man trudged solemnly down the many discordant paths of the ramshackle village, rain soaking into the flimsy black cotton of the shirt Yuffie had so graciously gifted him from Cloud’s duffle bag. In his haste to follow after the girl, he’d neglected to snag his rain slicker on the way out of the clinic, and he’d imagined Yuffie had hardly been of the mind to grab her own. A bitter chill blew through him from down the way, and he grasped at his arms despite himself.

She must be freezing by now...

A pang of some uncertain emotion fluttered in his chest at the image of Yuffie shivering wet and miserable out in the cold. It brought to mind that miserable morning a few days prior, when he’d so carelessly abandoned her to the clutches of the Running Man over some petty squabble. She hadn’t been the same since then, all because of his pointless, indignant stubbornness, and now...

He shook his head. This was no time for his usual self-flagellation. No, right now, he need only focus on one thing: finding her. Finding her before something terrible happened that could never be taken back. He had a foreboding feeling that he couldn’t shake. One that had come over him the moment she’d left that room.

“Yuffie will not let the mystery of her mother’s death go uninvestigated.”

Lord Godo’s ominous warning floated in the air. Vincent’s eyes narrowed in frustration.

Of all the ways she could have learned the truth...

He hated Titus. He hated him for everything he’d done to Yuffie. Hated him for keeping so many secrets for so long. Hated him for going into such grisly detail when he finally deigned to share what he knew. Hated how genuinely sympathetic he looked as he told her. Most of all, though, Vincent hated him for being the one to tell her first.

“I will make no such oaths to you, my Lord.” His ostentatious declaration drifted through his memory.

Yet I kept her mother’s fate to myself just the same...and now look at what’s happened.

An image came to him again; Yuffie’s back as she walked alone into the yawning maw of that beast—green light permeating the air and that thunderous heartbeat all around. Off to meet her destiny. The cruelest one of all.

“Secrets only hurt us in the end.”

He clenched his fists into tight balls, the pinpricks of his claw poking into his palm hard enough to draw blood.

I just need to find her.

Just need to be sure she’s safe.

And then...

And then...what? What would the reclusive and distant Vincent Valentine do when he finally found the girl? Comfort her? Apologize to her? Hold her? Was he even capable of such noble things? The same man that had abandoned her at the first opportunity? The same man who’d so carelessly hidden her mother’s fate from her? No, more likely he’d simply bring her back to the others without a word and carry on like nothing had even happened at all.

Indeed, that would certainly be the easiest out; certainly be in-keeping with the life he’d lived up till then; certainly be a more painless choice than confronting the feelings that had been festering in the far corner of his subconscious—threatening to spill over and call into question everything he’d ever known himself to be...

...CERTAIN, IS IT?

Vincent’s mind snapped back into focus, and he found himself standing in the crossroads at the entrance to the village. Before him lay a disused path jutting off to the right, partly hidden in the brush, that seemingly led toward the rubble that yet remained of the village’s original construction. There, pressed into the mud, were shoeprints that had yet to be washed away thanks to the protection of the canopy above. Shoeprints belonging to a teenage girl’s pair of sneakers. He’d found what he’d been searching for, for sure...

And yet, despite his prior haste, Vincent found himself lingering in the road for a time, merely looking on at the trail as it vanished into the dark unknown of the thicket. He couldn’t bring himself to budge.

Perhaps it was the growing sense of unease in his heart. Perhaps he’d wished he hadn’t found her so soon. Perhaps he’d wished he hadn’t found her at all.

Whatever the cause, he cursed himself for his hesitation, and made to followed after.

** ** **

It was cold.

Cold and wet.

And damp.

And miserable.

And the worst part was, she couldn’t tell where the rain stopped, and her tears started.

Yuffie Kisaragi sat huddled up hugging her legs under what most likely used to be the roof of some poor soul’s home before it got leveled by the rampaging Ultimate Weapon a year ago—now little more than a few loosely connected bits of sheet metal propped up by discordant wooden beams haphazardly jutting up out of the mud. The whole rickety ensemble seemed as though it were on the verge of collapse. One little shove, and the whole thing might come crumbling down.

She pressed her head deeper into her folded arms, trying desperately to drown out the discordant thoughts pounding in her skull.

She didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel.

Those were painful things. Things that could break her. Tear her apart. Reduce her to nothing.

No, she wanted to be a stone.

Stones don’t have thoughts. Stones don’t have feelings. Stones don’t get hurt.

They just sit there, cold and firm, placid and unchanging, stationary and unconcerned as the ocean of time mercilessly beats on around them. Totally removed from harsh, cold reality and the agonizing truths it brought with it.

But Yuffie Kisaragi was not a stone. She was a 17-year-old girl. She could hardly stem the flow of tears from her eyes, much less stop the weight of the world from bearing down upon her.

She couldn’t stop her mother’s face from coming to her mind; couldn’t forget the gnawing doubt she felt at every half-hearted platitude her father had tried to ease her grief with; couldn’t ease the growing resentment she was feeling toward a certain man’s hypocrisy, one that betrayed another feeling she was also failing to suppress regarding him. She didn’t even have the privilege to stop herself from hearing the footsteps come to rest a few feet behind her.

A deafening silence fell.

There she was. He’d found her at last.

And yet, his throat was dry, his muscles frozen. He couldn’t move. A horribly familiar feeling was overcoming him. He’d been here before—on the precipice of a great change—as someone he cared for was suffering alone. He’d been just as weak then—just as hesitant to act, but...

“...You know, When I was little, I’d go visit her every day.”

Vincent flinched. Yuffie had spoken up before he could.

“Rain or shine, I’d always be there in the garden on the temple grounds, praying to that nice fancy grave my old man set up for her. Praying to God, to the great Leviathan, to the Planet...whoever would listen. Praying that they’d bring mama back to me.”

Vincent listened in silence, unable to bring himself to do anything else.

“I just couldn’t understand. How could someone as beautiful and wonderful as my mama die in such a horrible, senseless way? How could the person who sang me to sleep every night...who brushed my hair...told me stories...and always smelled like cherry blossoms...how could she just leave one morning and never come back? How could the most amazing lady in the whole wide world get killed by some stupid monster in the woods? Why would mama just leave me all alone like that!?... Why...!”

Yuffie’s breathed, trying not to let her bitterness get the better of her.

“...It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t fair. So, I prayed and I prayed—that my mama would just come home, that things could go back to the way they used to be, with me and mom and dad... But eventually, reality caught up with me. Prayer didn’t work. My desperate pleading wouldn’t be answered. Mama was never coming home again.”

Vincent could see her quiver with the words. It pained his heart, yet his feet remained cemented in place.

“...After the first few months, dad stopped joining me out there. After a while, he stopped going out into the garden altogether. ‘Too busy with the war effort,’ or some other big important-sounding thing. But before long, Shinra’d totally crushed Wutai’s army and our homeland along with it, turning the place into nothing but a gaudy tourist trap for foreigners to gawk at—our culture reduced to souvenirs and photo ops for the rich employees of the very corporation that’d destroyed us. That worthless old bum couldn’t have cared less, though. After the war, he’d become nothing but a worthless drunkard who spent all day lying in bed—the joke our country had become no concern of his as long as he had enough sake to drown himself in. Didn’t take long before I couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore, so after I’d turned 16 I packed up and took off on my own. I was gonna fix Wutai all by myself, with as much Materia as I could get my hands on. I wasn’t gonna let mama’s homeland be disgraced any further that it already had been... Pft, yeah right. Who was I kidding? I was just a stupid, powerless little kid. What the hell could I do about anything?”

She felt her anger growing again.

“Yeah, guess I know why the old bastard never bothered going to see mama now. What good is praying to some empty goddamn hole in the ground? Just some piece of sh*t hunk of rock he propped up to placate his ignorant daughter, right? Just a stupid lie so his brat wouldn’t go asking questions, right!? Who’d bother with something like that!? Only an idiot kid, right!?”

“Yuffie...” Vincent finally brought himself to say.

“What!?” The girl snapped, suddenly turning to Vincent. His heart froze as he saw the anguish that filled her eyes. “That’s how it is, right!? I’m just some idiot little sh*t who can’t handle the truth! I’d just be a burden to everybody! I’d run off and do some stupid thing if I knew how things really were! Everybody would have to clean up after that little brat Yuffie’s mess all over again! She can’t be trusted with the truth! She doesn’t deserve to know! To know how her mama...how her mama...”

The girl faltered, and turned away from the man again.

“...I’m just a brat that nobody can ever trust at all...”

Vincent could hear the girl begin to sob from behind her shelter.

He wanted to leave...again. Leave and never come back. All he was ever going to do in his life was hurt the people he cared for the most, that was becoming clearer and clearer to him. The best thing he could ever do for the world was to just seal his monstrous form away forever, which very well might’ve been how things had gone had AVALANCHE not found him that day and made him reconsider his solemn isolation.

Yes, he wanted to leave. Leave everything behind and disappear for good.

But instead, he took a step forward.

“Yuffie... That...that’s not true,” he finally croaked out, voice hesitant, “Everyone in AVALANCHE trusts you a great deal... I...”

“Oh can it, Vincent!” Yuffie suddenly shouted, surprising even herself, “You’re the absolute last person I want to hear it from! You never talk to me! You never tell me anything! You keep it all locked up inside, hiding behind that distant attitude of yours!”

Yuffie was on her feet before she knew it, approaching the man in a huff with tears rolling down her face. Vincent’s step forward was quickly retracted, and he found himself taking a further step back as she approached.

“My old man doesn’t tell me a damned thing for over a decade, but the moment he catches you alone he tells you EVERYTHING! What really happened to my mama, why she had to go, about the freakish monster, all of it! To you and not his own daughter! And despite everything we’ve been through, you sided with him! You kept it all to yourself! Why?”

“Yuffie, I’m...”

“Because you don’t trust me, that’s why! None of you do! Not You, Cloud, Tifa...especially my dad! I’m just a burden to all of you! All of you...”

“...Your father was just worried about you, Yuffie. I was... I was wai-”

“It’s not just because you talked with dad behind my back!” Yuffie cut the man off, “I found you passed out cold in Cid’s freakin’ closet last night, Vincent! And just a few hours ago you nearly collapsed right in front of everybody! And you still won’t tell us what’s going on with you! You just dodge and deflect and put things off! ‘Secrets only hurt us in the end’ my ass! You keep more secrets than anyone!”

She was right in front of him now, and he could see the hurt plainly in her brilliant silver eyes. Hurt brought on by his carelessness. Again.

“We’re all your friends, Vinnie! We care about you! We’re worried about you! We want to help you! I want to help you! But you don’t trust me. You won’t talk to me. Won’t let me in no matter how hard I try for you. Even though... Even though I... I... I lo-”

She let out a gasp and recoiled, long chocolate brown hair covering her eyes. All was once again silent.

“Yuffie... I’m sorry,” was all the man could muster, after a long moment.

“Vincent... Can you please just...leave me alone now?”, she replied meekly, “I just...want to be by myself for a little while...okay?”

A thousand thoughts ran through his head. Begging, pleading with him to comfort her. To tell her everything that had ever burdened him, all the uncertainty and regret that plagued his mind. To hold her close and let her see the man that lies behind the veil of Vincent Valentine. To finally speak the words locked up in his heart.

But then, that’s not the man he was.

“Am I sure? Am I sure!? If this only concerns me then yes, I am sure!”

“Vincent! Just GO! Forget about us and save yourself! We’ll be-”

Words of past failures swirled around his head, mocking him for his weakness.

Vincent shut his eyes, exhausted and resigned.

Once again...all I can do is watch. It’s not...it’s not my place to interfere.

And so, he simply replied “...If that is what you want,” and with a turn was gone.

Just as she’d wished, the miserable girl was alone in the rain once more, the dark man vanishing down the trail.

She sat back down in her place in the mud.

Rain beat against the sheet metal all around her.

And she sobbed. Sobbed, pained, unmasked, bitter tears.

Why the hell did I say that!? What the hell is wrong with me!? This isn’t what I want! I don’t want to be alone! I want to be with everyone! With him! I’m just...I just...I...

She clenched her teeth hard, choaking back her pain.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Come back...please... I don’t want to be alone again...

Mama... It’s all so hard now. I miss you. Why did you have to leave me? Why did you have to go down into that awful place all alone...

That awful place...

All alone...

Alone...

Buzzing.

Buzzing white light.

Coming from above.

Pouring down.

All encompassing.

In a dingy room, that smelled of salt and dead things.

Chains rattling in the open air.

All alone.

“Did you guys see that? Huh? Huh?”

Silence.

“They’re coming to save me! Don’t I just have the bestest friends in the whole wide world?”

Silence.

“Yeah, they all looked pretty pissed off. If I were you guys, I would watch my ass. They’re about to find your oh-so-hidden faction down here in this sh*thole…”

Silence.

“That’s right, tremble and be afraid. Now you know how it feels…”

And the silence just droned on and on...

...until.

“That is...most unfortunate,” an ice-cold voice spoke out from somewhere beyond the blinding light.

“H-huh!?” Yuffie yelped in surprise, having forgotten that anyone besides the monstrous hissing creatures and herself was still in the torture chamber. Standing on the walkway far above, still presiding over the sordid affair, was the faction’s robed leader. He stared down at her impassively.

“O-oh, yeah! Better run scared, boss man!” The young ninja jeered, “My friends are comin’ to tear your whole rotten world down, just you wait and see!”

There was another brief lull, and then the man replied “you misunderstand me, child. It is unfortunate for THEM, unfortunate for YOU, because they have arrived a hair too late.”

Terror shot through Yuffie’s spine at the man’s apathetic words. He wasn’t concerned in the least.

“Wh-what—”

RECOMMENCE THE MIND PROBE. I NEVER TOLD YOU TO STOP.

Of coursssse ssssir.

“Wait—!”

Her desperate cry went unheeded, however, and a flashbang was set off in her skull. There was no stopping the creatures as they bored through her precious memories in pursuit of their desired target. Her life, her hopes, her dreams, her feelings...none of it meant anything to those wicked demons or their master. All they cared about was one thing; the one thing she couldn’t dare to give them—the one thing she couldn’t stop them from taking.

TAKE USSS TO VALENTINE. TAKE USSS TO THAT NIGHT. YOUR MOTHER’SSS...

I won’t!

YOU WILL.

No, I—

It had been a pretty crummy night, all things considered. She’d faced off with monstrous faceless creatures, been shot at while driving a jet ski (which was kinda cool, to be fair—even if I felt like I was gonna hurl the whole time), had a big chunk of her shoulder blown off, got her clothes totally wrecked (gawd, everybody in that lobby saw my damn boob, didn’t they...), got drenched in rain, and yet, despite it all, she found herself feeling oddly...happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

That man, Vincent Valentine...he’d always been so cold and distant toward everyone, and was generally far from the most personable guy around (hell, he even told me to—and I quote—“piss on myself.” Can you believe that? Stupid jerk.), and sometimes she wondered if he was even really their friend at all. Yet, as they fought against those monsters together, and as she’d sat cradled in his arms as their Black Stinger pulled up to Under Junon, a warm feeling bubbled up inside her. It was a gentle, soft feeling—one that enveloped her whole body, and made her feel safe and calm. She was normally so guarded, so afraid to let others see her as weak, but for some reason, (even with that nasty attitude of his...), she felt like she could relax around Vincent. Let herself be vulnerable. It reminded the young ninja of how she used to feel when she was just a child, held gently in her mother’s warm embrace. A comfortable feeling she hadn’t allowed herself experience in a long, long time.

As the warm water of the hotel shower drove away the aches and chills from her exhausted, rain-soaked body, and as fuzzy emotions about the man known as Vincent Valentine started to creep their way into her heart, a song found its way to her lips. A secret song, that her mother used to sing. One from better days. (How did it go again? Oh yeah, that’s right—)

YESSSSS!! THERE IT ISSS!!! THERE IT ISSS!!! SSSSING IT!! SSSSING FOR USSS!!!

“No! Stop it! Get out of my head! Leave me alone!”

Her mind tremored and strained, desperate to pull away from the memory. She didn’t know why, but she absolutely couldn’t let them have that song. Titus had warned her of that much. If she could just hold on a little longer, her friends would be there... Vincent would be there...

But the Hissers didn’t stop. Why would they? “Yuffie Pristina Kisaragi” wasn’t a person to them. She was an object, a thing, only useful toward fulfilling their Master’s twisted desires. What did the tender feelings blooming in her heart mean to them? All that vulnerability she’d foolishly let herself feel was nothing more than a weakness, and weaknesses are meant to be exploited.

“Aaagh!... Anyone! Please, help me! Vincent!”

But nobody came.

And in the next instant her mind exploded into white, crumbling under the pressure as her last defenses failed her. She was beyond pain, beyond fear, beyond anything at all. And as her reality shattered, as her mind was scorched to ash, as every last piece of her was defiled, she heard an agonizingly familiar voice softly singing from somewhere far, far away.

“...Mama...?”

The ravenous Beast
The great Hunger
The Planet-Eater
At the heart of the world it lies
Alone in madness, divorced from its Other
The minions gather and sing, mindless and scorned
Into the darkness they all descend

But now the time to rise is near!
Sweet creature of black and white, cry no longer
Valiant prince, ascend your throne
Unwilling acolyte, care for your reluctant god
Lady of cruelest destiny, you must descend
Into the dark, into the emerald wreaths of phantasmal toil
Past the wall of corpses that guards its domain
Into the abysmal lake of the begrudgingly blessed
Defeat the minions and feed the beast
A heart of beautiful, foulest gold

And then everything stopped.

White faded to black, pain to numbness, and hissing to buzzing silence.

Time stretched on for an eternity, losing any meaning.

And from that timeless void, a stone-cold voice spoke to her one final time.

“Thank you for your help, girl. You were much more cooperative than your mother.”

And then her ravaged mind and body finally gave out completely, all fading to darkness.

~*~*~*~*~

Yuffie’s eyes shot open, the frigid pelting of the uncaring rain bringing her back to her senses.

But the cold from the wind couldn’t compare to the chill now quaking in her heart.

For a horrible truth buried by trauma had finally been wrought to the surface.

They know. Oh god, they know.

~tbc

Sink to the Bottom With You: Ragnarök - Chapter 7 - TheStrifeIsRife (2024)

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