It was a cold, dull September that year. Since the passing of Lord Godo, the sun hadn't shined through the clouds and the vibrant green plains and the blossomed trees were overcast in shadow. The breeze was cool, and the clouds wept Leviathan's tears with zeal and passion. The mien of the town of Wutai had not been the same since his burial three weeks beforehand, and the very faces of Da Chao seemed saddened by the turn of events. A great man and warrior like Lord Kisaragi Godo was not meant to die bed ridden, struck by some disease like any mortal man, yet his death was peaceful, taken in his sleep, the last thing that the man of Wutai wanted. His last breath had instigated a thunderstorm of record proportions, as if the heavens and Leviathan himself were showing themselves to grieve for their great servant.
Another morose creature in Wutai went by the name of Yuffie. She was Godo's daughter but, as of yet, not a single tear for her beloved father had run down her soft, ochre cheek. Her emerald green eyes had hardened over the month since his death, and her teeth had been perpetually set in a brave grimace. With her new role in Wutai secured, she didn't know how to act for her townspeople, and no one had given her time to grieve. If ever she needed a hug, the time was now, but with Godo gone and her only friends scattered at other ends of the world, there was no one to provide her with what she really needed: a simple shoulder to cry on.
As she ran a brush through her thick chocolate hair, the grimace increased somewhat, her ornate jade comb locking firmly with a tangled bundle of knots. She groaned in annoyance as she tugged it through, picking the stray hair from the comb absently. With an array of pins sticking from her mouth, she took her hands to her shoulder length hair and began winding it around her fingers into a long coil with the ease of long practice, before she took on of the ornate pins from her pursed lips and she wound and secured it in her hair. With strings of beads and gemmed ornaments, richly decorated with creatures and kanji, hanging from her hair, she finally shook her stray locks from in front of her pretty eyes so that they hung straight, framing her face. Such a pretty little dress up doll, slight and sweet looking, as were most Wutaian women, but with jewelled eyes full out wit and charm. She rarely wore such baubles or gowns however, and she felt strange in this new identity.
"Nami?" she called softly.
A pretty young woman, senior to Yuffie but no older than twenty, came trotting nervously in. Ever since Godo's demise, Nami had treated Yuffie with a degree of fragility, and she was a meek character as it was, so her timidity was heightened by the difficult subject. She silently stepped beside Yuffie, who was staring into the mirror and stroking her soft hair with a vacant expression on her face.
"Yes, Miss Kisaragi?" Nami asked quietly, her eyes downcast.
"Could you tie my sash please?"
Nami nodded and she put a comforting hand onto Yuffie's shoulder as the Wutaian princess stood up in her floor length, wine red kimono robe, holding it about herself as the light, silken material flourished around her petite body. She indicated towards her futon and muttered casually:
"It's on the bed."
Nami nodded a little, fingering the sleeves of her light, floaty robe gingerly, before she bobbed to Yuffie in a little curtsey and picked up the long length of cream coloured material, richly embroidered with dark red flowers, and she bundled it in her arms before sidling beside the young Princess and wrapping it around her waist, holding the kimono tightly around her skinny yet firm stomach. Securing it with a glittering golden cord, Nami gave Yuffie a little smile, before she took a large white iris from her hair and tucked it into the cord's knot. Yuffie regarded it for a second before nodding at Nami and saying raspily:
"Thank you Nami."
"Miss Kisaragi…"
"Yes Nami?"
"Are you sure… you want to…?"
"There's no better time to do it. I'll be fine."
With a morose sigh of hesitation, Nami nodded and descried a warm, heavy bundle from within a basket on her arm, her hands delicate on the aromatic parcel. She stroked it softly, withholding it a moment with a hint of sadness and grief in her pretty dark eyes. Holding out her hands, Yuffie tugged it from Nami with a kind of jealous protectiveness, and the handmaiden cast her wet eyes down to the floor and bid leave of herself. The grieving Princess hugged the fragrant wrap to herself tightly, before she breathed deeply and stepped bravely towards the door.
With her head proudly held, one hand clasped around the hem of her kimono and the other tightly holding a bundle of items wrapped in a length of torn yukata silk, Yuffie left her house bravely. Despite the late hour and the dark chill of the night, Wutai was busy and animated, the glow of fire and embers rising high into the night and the loud chatter of people travelling on the wind, wrapping through her loose chocolate locks. The air tugged and pulled at her elegant up-do, and she stood a moment in the cool autumn breeze, a little smile on her face while her soft eyes betrayed her tears. Breathing in, inhaling the thick, fresh Wutaian air, she built herself up to walk through the town where the loud voices and bright lights heralded the Yue Laan festival. A bittersweet peal of music struck up from further down the town, melodic string instruments leading the twinkling notes. It was a tune that Yuffie recognised, and when she began to hum throatily, her voice reaching high and low notes that hadn't been visited since her father's death. The tune saddened her, and the pretty noise from her throat began to die away as she stopped.
Her slender fingers clasped tighter around the package that she was holding so close to herself and she sighed before taking a meek step forward, away from the entrance of Godo's large house, onto the stone path towards the main town. Her geta made soft clicking noises on the stone beneath her feet, but when she transcended the large wooden bridge her steps were muffled. The flickering orange lights travelling down the effervescent, crystalline river beneath the wooden bridge caught her green eyes, and so she walked over to the side and she stepped up and glanced over at the fleet of paper boat lanterns that had been released onto the water. They danced and flashed with phoenix fire, aromatic joss sticks trailing curling, unfurling wisps of blue grey smoke, leaving behind a trace from whence they came. Soon enough, Yuffie would release her own boat onto the gentle waves of the river, but until then she still had other business to which she had to attend, and the heavy parcel in her hand reminded her of that grudging fact. Though she felt as though she could watch the boats forever (or until they got too soggy and sank) she roused herself from her sweet, spellbinding reverie and hopped down from the banister to pass the bridge.
Once she traversed the small bastion, she took a small, brave breath as she was thrust into the busy world of the Yue Laan festivities: people rushing around with glowing joss sticks in their hands, cheering greetings and seasonal pleasantries at one another; plates of steamed chicken and pork left symbolically on the doorsteps before being shared with the family; the thick, almost choking lull of smoke that hung about the air from the doorstep fires, making Yuffie feel more claustrophobic than before; the loud banter of music from an opera being performed in the Turtle Paradise's extensive garden. Normally, Yuffie loved the Yue Laan festival. This year, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone to grieve and burn. A small child who was running around with an unlit boat-lantern ran straight into her, and her hand tightened protectively around the bundle of items, wrapped competently in a rag of her father's old Yukata, and she made a noise of displeasure as the child just picked himself up and continued running, pretending that the boat was a flying machine like the Highwind and playing with his friends who were further up the street. A skinny middle aged woman in a pink kimono walked over to Yuffie and smiled sympathetically at her, before handing her a white lily from her basket and moving on, smiling knowing at the people she passed afterwards as though she and Yuffie shared some great feminine bond. Absently tucking the pretty flower behind her ear, she walked forward and through the crowds of people, nameless faces all of whom wore kindly, maudlin will-o'-the-wisp smiles, but none of them stopping to ask her how she was. Even in the thick, suffocating throng of people, she felt so desperately alone, and all she wanted was to reach her house at the far end of town and make her own doorstep fire, so that she would finally have a chance to cry for her father.
She pushed politely past people, smiling fakely at them when they heralded her with festive greetings, but it almost felt like she was drowning in the sea and faces and smiles and, as she struggled to squeeze through people, fighting for a passage, she felt like she was suffocating. She nearly gave up when she realised how far her house was from her current position, and when someone stepped on the back of her trailing kimono, forcing her to trip down to the damp dirt floor, she knelt on the muddy floor, running her fingers through her chocolate drown hair. Only fifteen minutes ago, she was a porcelain doll; now she was reduced to a rag toy, mud on her kimono, hair falling from the elaborate pins, desperation in her hardened eyes. She picked herself up, melted chocolate locks falling in front of her eyes, the ever clutched parcel held tightly to her breast. She tried to scrabble through the crowd, but when she got knocked back once more she stopped and cried in distress:
"Please! Just… just get out of my way!"
The faces had all turned towards her, their blank eyes scrutinising her anguish with their empty souls, but through the sea of loneliness and sympathy, she saw a face she recognised, a tangible representation of what she really needed. The bright, lively eyes were turned on her from far away, past the ocean, the throng, the swarm of people and faces and limbs, which were outstretched trying to help her. She tried to make for the person she recognised, towards the face she loved so dearly, but the hands and the bodies wouldn't let her. The figure was trying to push himself through, his glinting hand knocking others out of the way, but to no avail, as there were just so many townsfolk trying to help Yuffie, crowding around her. She pulled away from them, spinning with confusion as she tried the search for a way of escaping the people who had surrounded her but she couldn't see a route. When someone grabbed the sleeve of her kimono, however, she snapped and broke free of them, holding her bundle tightly to her body, and she ran blindly as far from the calling voices and sympathetic smiles as she could.
As she ran over the quiet, dark path, one of her wooden geta escaped her foot, but she didn't stop to reclaim it. Instead, she kicked of the other one and, holding her parcel close and grasping the hem of her long kimono, she ran faster and faster, slowing only when the confused clamour of voices dulled down to a faint buzz in the background. She soon slowed to a halt, breathing heavily and thickly, running her hand through her silken locks of vigilante hair, tucking them behind her ear as she finally calmed down enough to see where she was, standing before the foot of Da Chao, a lonely figure standing small against a giant. She breathed out with relief, before nodding to herself and stepping of off the dirty path and onto the milky white face of the mountain side.
The breeze was cool atop the mountain, kneeling in the palm of one of the mighty gods, overlooking her busy town, nearly a hundred feet in the air. She could hear nothing of the festivities below except for the music soaring from the opera, the cadence flying on the wind. As she breathed in the clean air, free from smoke and incense and people, she finally placed the parcel on the palm of the old stone hand and, with trembling hands, she began to untie and unwrap the pale blue bundle, the material warm soft under her shaking fingers.
"Dad…"
Tucked neatly together, there was an assortment of items within the material wrap and she touched them fondly, her hands light and gentle on their surfaces. Nami had packaged a veritable Yua Laan bounty: There was a pair of still warm steamed buns wrapped in a tea towel, and a set of four cinnamon scented incense sticks, complete with enamel lighter. Tied with a dark green ribbon, there sat a thick bundle of hell money and last of all, folded cleverly, there was a type of flat pack paper boat, and a tea candle within. Nami had planned Yuffie's entire Yue Laan for her; it was a shame that she had been driven away from her doorstep. However, she was sure that there couldn't be a better place to perform the ritual than in the hands of a god.
Wrapping the material of her father's yukata around her hand lovingly, she moved all of the items and organised them neatly, joss sticks held upright by ornate receptacles arranged into a square, one stick in each corner. Flicking the decorative lighter open with a flick of her wrist, the tiny flame danced and moved in the breeze as soon as it appeared, and Yuffie cupped her hand around the back to stop it going out. She lit the first joss stick and it glowed with a tiny ember before streaming with smoke, a pretty tinge of rose. Repeating the same action with the other three, she was soon wrapped in the silk laces of pink smoke, and it furled around her body, folding and curling around her limbs and her body. She breathed it in as she closed her green eyes, her hands clenching around the yukata silk as she though of her father, remembering his smell, his embrace, his disguised yet ever present love for his daughter. She missed him so much; she felt so alone without him, and she had no one around for her in this time that she really needed them.
Opening her eyes once more, biting her lips as she took a handful of hell notes from the thick, ample bundle, she set them down in the middle of the incense square. She took the lighter to them and watched as the flame ran quietly across the edge of the note before spreading through the middle and setting light to the other notes, glowing with oranges and yellows and red, sending embers flying into the air, dark grey wisps of smoke mingling with the pink and dancing into midnight sky.
"I don't know the correct greeting but, at the risk of sounding like a completely oblivious foreigner, happy Yue Laan Yuffie."
Spinning around, nearly knocking over a stick of incense as she turned to see the owner of the only welcome voice that she had heard that day, and she smiled emotively at him, before she pushed herself forcefully from her knees and launched herself into his surprised arms.
"Vincent…!"
The tall, slim man held her in his arms stiffly, not unwelcoming to the affection, but unsure of what to say to the slight girl in his embrace. She loved seeing him the way he was, without his big red cloak or the gun in a holster to his side. Were it not for the deep garnet eyes or the tarnished gold claw, he would look to her like any normal, handsome, happy guy, a loose black shirt, his dark hair slackly tied back with a few strands still hanging by his sharp, elegant features. He had come for her, and he was what she had needed so much.
"What are you doing here Vincent?"
"Nanaki told me it was Yue Laan, and I knew that I might be the only one who could come down. I thought you might be having a hard time. If what happened down there is a good indication, I'd say I came just in time."
"I thought I saw you in the crowd, and I tried to get to you!" Yuffie told him breathily, "but they just, they wouldn't…!"
"I know. But I'm here now, and with tidings from the others, but that can wait."
Tracing his bronzed finger up and down her spine soothingly, Vincent eyed the unfinished proceedings and glanced with interest at the hell money that was being burned within the incense square. He pulled away from the younger girl and pointed at the carefully arranged items, asking casually:
"Anything I can help with?"
Brushing down her dirty kimono, she nodded and slipped her hand into Vincent's cold metal claw, pulling him further onto the God's palm. She knelt down, tugging him with her, and he stooped beside her and watched the bonfire of hell money burn and smoulder underneath the dark blanket of midnight, the glow reflecting in his eyes and making them swirl and jump with colour. Taking a few more notes from her thick pile and placing them carefully atop the fire, Yuffie turned to Vincent and asked him softly:
"You know Vincent, there's enough here for the both of us. Are there… any hungry ghosts that you want to let go of?"
Vincent turned his head towards her languidly, sensing hidden meaning in her innocent question, a lilt of an understatement in her message. She was holding a pair of notes towards him with a gentle look on her face and, with a little hesitation, he nodded and took them.
"I think there might be."
"Now's as good a time as any, right?"
"You're right," Vincent confirmed with a curious tone in his voice, "There's no better time than now."
With a sigh of remorse, he toyed absently with the pair of notes, rolling and unrolling the crisp, clean money between his unsure fingers, before, with a hint of a smile on his handsome face, he placed one of the notes respectfully on the pile of paper and fire and watched it ignite. He closed his eyes and felt the rush of the wind brush past his face, catch in his hair, ruffle his shirt material, and he heard the soft, gentle beat of the music below, the thump of the rhythm, the melancholy pull of a violin.
Holding his hand over the little fire, he slowly opened his closed fist and he allowed the now crumpled slip of paper float down to the heat and the embers. It caught fire immediately and, before Vincent's eyes, it was eaten by the tiny blaze. He felt a shiver run through his body as the breeze blew, and as he watched the fire grow with the added kindling, he smiled a little as he realised something:
He was alive.
Lucrecia was not, but he was.
A rustling of papers made him turn towards Yuffie, and he watched as she placed the entire bundle of crisp hell money onto the growing fire. She leaned back on her knees and held her arms behind her, propping her up like a picture frame to watch the money burn. The fire made her emerald eyes grow topaz in its reflection, and her chocolate hair glinted with tones of copper as the caught the glow.
"You know Vincent," she commented softly, "I'm really glad you're here. I needed a friend to spend Yue Laan with. I couldn't have hoped for a better friend to be with."
"I'm happy I could be here for you. I've never had the chance to repay you for your company."
"When?"
"It doesn't matter 'when'. All of your company matters to me."
Yuffie's brow furrowed, not with anger but with a look of happiness that occurs when a simple smile won't suffice. Her hand traced along the stony palm until it found Vincent's golden appendage, and she clasped her little digits around his and she squeezed tightly.
"Thanks Vincent. You couldn't have said anything that would cheer me up more than that."
"Glad I could help."
She smiled at him, meeting his eyes with an air of solemnity which Vincent rarely saw in her. She broke her gaze and picked up the steamed buns silently, holding one in each hand, and she went forward on her knees to lower her head to the ground in front of the dying fire. Closing her eyes and thinking of her father, Yuffie stayed like that for a moment, nose to the cold stone. Eventually, she sat back up and handed one of the buns to Vincent, who looked at her with curiosity.
"They're offerings, but we don't waste them," said Yuffie, answering his unasked question, "Go on. Eat up, before it gets cold."
Vincent raised one ebony eyebrow at her as she eyed him cheekily, popping a torn piece of bun into her mouth, smiling impishly. Shaking his head, he took a bite out of his steamed bun and watched as the blowing wind made a fire grow a little and sent embers flying into the air like the evanescent trail from a sparkler.
Below them, the band from the opera began to strike up into another musical number, but this one was slightly different to the others that had played before. A lone violinist lead the string instruments, and while the cellos backed her with low, swooping notes, like a fleet of melodic hummingbirds singing for her as she strove to cry out her love song. As her bow danced over the fiddle with calculated smoothness, it reached desperate, loving crescendos and hauntingly romantic diminuendo which made Yuffie's heart beat loudly in her head as she followed the adagio. She looked towards Vincent with a glint in her eye and, dropping her bun, she held out her hand to him and asked him delicately:
"Hey Vinnie. Wanna dance?"
"Dance?" he questioned with a slightly shy tone.
"Sure. I bet you're an awesome dancer."
"I… haven't danced since..." he paused as he indicated towards his claw, "Well, since before. I'm probably a bit rusty."
"So am I," she replied with a grin, "just don't tread on my feet. I lost my geta on the way up here."
"Don't worry," replied Vincent dryly as he began to stand up, "I'll be careful."
He pulled her gently up, accidentally toeing the hell note fire as he did, causing a flurry of the remaining embers to fly around them as he guided her into position. The dying red lights winked provocatively as he settled his claw on her gently curved hip, tugging her almost unnoticeably towards his body. She closed her eyes serenely as she laid her head onto his chest, the soft thump of his heartbeat pounding in her ears, beating to the rhythm of the violinist's tune. He softly turned her, spinning her out of his arms, and she danced on her tip-toes, delicate on her feet, her pretty kimono swimming about her as she twisted in the embers and midnight and stars. As Vincent pulled her back to him, she faltered slightly and tripped into his protective arms, held out to catch her.
They stopped dancing as she looked slowly into his eyes, her hands still clutching at his shirt in mid fall. Her head lay inclined towards his, and while his face was near unreadable, his eyes spoke volumes. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was taken suddenly by the horrible feeling that a cheesy montage of past events with him was going to flit through her mind.
Vincent in Costa Del Sol, refusing to take of his cape. Yuffie had slipped into her bikini and taunted him mercilessly about how much cooler she felt. He hadn't even said 'I told you so' when she got sunburnt.
And little 'incident' in Wutai, when she had 'borrowed' their materia. Underneath it all, beneath his cool exterior, she had hurt him. But he had rescued her, offered to fight against Don Corneo for her. He had untied her ropes for her, caught her before she fell, and when he looked into her eyes, all the coldness and anger disappeared from them. They spoke of it no more after that.
Walking with him down into the crater. They had been in Cloud's original team, but he swapped them and left them to find their own way down the steep slope. He'd answered all of her questions about the crater, Sephiroth and the 'calamity from the skies', not even complaining that all of it had already been explained about a hundred times already.
Where were they when the others were out on deck, watching Holy devour Meteor? They had been down in the control room, watching the event unfold in the safety of one another's company. He had never told anyone how she had cried that evening. It was their little secret.
She blinked delicately as she felt his cool breath on her skin, their bodies so close to one another's that she could almost feel his heartbeat reverberate on hers. Her hands shook as she breathed his name with a tremble:
"Vincent…?"
"Yes, Yuffie?"
She looked down to the ground sheepishly, but when she looked back up to catch a sly glance at his garnet eyes, she was taken by the feeling of a warm mouth brushing against hers, almost accidental for it was so innocent and sweet. Vincent drew back experimentally, trying to see whether she turned away or whether she accepted him. Her eyes were half closed, her mouth pouting slightly, searching for more than he had given and, pleased with what he saw, he slowly leaned in and firmly placed his mouth on hers, light and sensual at first, but steadily increasing the pressure and he pulled her towards him. She melted into his kiss, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she meshed with him. She felt his tongue prod insistently yet obligingly at her lips, and she opened her mouth to allow him to kiss her further. Only when a firework was released to signify the end of the opera did the pair pull away from one another, dragging their eyes from one another to silently watch as the golden and red sparkles glittered away in a fountain of effervescent colour.
They stood in silence as they watched the colour melt and disappear into the velvet blue midnight, still in one another's arms. Yuffie took the opportunity to glean a glance at Vincent while he was gazing into the sky. He looked so peaceful as he stood there, his arms tightly about her, his hair catching the wind and blowing before his face, an obscure smile on his face.
"Why did you do that, Vincent?" Yuffie suddenly asked, a wave of sternness passing through her, "because I don't want your pity. I don't want your affection because you feel sorry for me. Why did you just kiss me?"
Vincent didn't look at her, or seem affected by her outburst. It was almost as if he didn't hear her, and she was about to repeat her question before he blinked slowly and turned his head towards her, regarding her with a gentle yet sardonic raise of his finely shaped eyebrow.
"You had crumbs around your mouth," was the wry reply.
Yuffie mouth lolled open as she looked at him, and she searched for the words to respond to him, but the glint of humour in his eyes caught her off guard, and she just ended up spluttering a hybrid of a laugh and a cough. Thrusting herself back into his arms, resting her pretty head on his chest, she squeezed him tightly around the middle and declared:
"I am so damned glad you came, Vincent."
She looked back up to him and, with a smile, she went on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his mouth, but he pulled away from her, leaving her with a look of confusion and upset on her face. However, his face was still calm and sweet, and he said to her:
"We haven't finished yet. You haven't yet released your boat."
"Forget it," Yuffie said with a shake of her head, "I can do it next time."
"No," Vincent demanded firmly, "Come on Yuffie. We'll do it together. We can both let go of our hungry ghosts."
Nodding her head, she took her arms from around Vincent's slim waist and knelt beside the ashen pile, picking up the dark red paper boat. Pushing the ends to open into a 3D objects, she also gave the bottom a nudge to give it a flat base. She heard movement behind her, and felt arms around her waist, Vincent taking her hands in his and directing them to construct the boat. They stood up, the ex-Turk's hands still around her from behind, leaning down to rest his head on her shoulder. The little tea candle was dropped into the bottom, and the wick was lit with the lighter, making the deep lantern glow through the paper.
"What now, Vincent? What do we do now?"
"Now," replied Vincent, "Now we let it go."
They walked together to the tip of the God's palm and stood for a moment, watching as the stars winked cheekily at them, breathed in the cool, fresh air, felt the breeze wrap around them comfortably. As they held up their linked arms to the air, the breeze caught the light paper boat, and with a sudden strong gust of wind pulled it up into the air. As if powered by something other than the breeze and Vincent and Yuffie's will, it floated lightly through the air with a straight course, sinking only ever so slightly with the little weight of the candle. Their eyes followed it through the air, the little light burning ever so brightly through the dark air, until it was only a spark in the distance. It landed on the river amongst it's paper brethren, but unlike those lanterns, the candle only went out when it was engulfed by the water.
Yuffie turned around in Vincent's arms and embraced him, her eyes closed and her head nestled into his body. He breathed out contentedly and wrapped his arms around her waist and, to his surprise, she finally began to cry.
"I miss him so much Vincent," she sobbed into his chest, her hands resting on his shoulders.
"I know Yuffie," he whispered, "But I'm here for you. I'll stay here for you."
"I need to know that you'll stay. I need you now."
"I'll stay for you. I need you too."
He kissed her delicately on the forehead as she sobbed into his shoulder, and when she had eventually worn herself out, they lay down together and slept innocently together in the palm of the God, wrapped in each other's arms.
And once again, Vincent never told anyone how she had cried that night. He also never told anyone how she laughed and smelt and felt and tasted.
It was their little secret.
And sometimes, when you are down,
I want to give you the sky,
To hold, just for a minute,
To show you what you mean to me,
I don't know much of the afterlife,
Or those who roam its tawny corridors,
But sometimes, laid beside you,
I can imagine what they feel like.
Ooh! I rather enjoyed that! I found out about the Hungry Ghosts festival through research, so if any of it is a bit… y'know, rubbish, please, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll apologise profusely. It sounds like a fascinating and solemn festival, I suggest you look into it and find out about it because it's very interesting. Please R&R, thanks for reading