A/N: It helps to have read Square Enix's "Case of Nanaki" first, but for those of you who haven't read it, all you need to know is that Red XIII and Vincent agreed to meet once a year, every year, in Midgar to prevent them from becoming lonely because their lifespans far exceeded that of their friends.
500 Years Later
Racing paws hit the ground hard, strong legs balanced and gathered for another leap. Nanaki didn't need to look back to know that the two cubs were following not a length behind him. They'd make good hunters some day. Seto would have been proud.
In front of them, the wall of the canyon reared steep and craggy across their path; Nanaki didn't pause as he leapt from ledge to ledge up the wall, the same as he'd done once a year, every year, for the past five centuries. It took more concentration, more energy now than it used to, but he didn't stumble as he reached the level space at the top and gazed across the desolation toward what had once been the most populous city on the planet. The cubs, hardly winded, stopped behind him and were silent at the sight before them.
Nanaki looked out over the wilderness reclaimed by nature, and roared once, putting all his lung power into the sound. Echoes reverberated the roar, making the canyon below them ring with his thunder, and a flock of startled birds fled overhead, but there was no other sound. In the direction of the city, the empty air swallowed all noise and it was silent as a tomb. Nanaki waited, but there was no answering gunshot. Good. Vincent was yet to arrive. Being early to the appointed meeting meant that there would be time to show the cubs around and teach them before they met a human.
He turned and led the way down the cliff-face, but stopped before he was at ground level - or rather, floodplain level, as there was now at least a foot of standing water - he turned left, heading along a ridge until he came to another clifftop, this one far lower than the previous. Here he halted again, glancing around once to make sure this was the right place, the one he remembered. The one where the story that he knew had begun.
The two cubs came up beside him, gazing with wide eyes at the vine-covered bulk of Midgar.
"We'll be going there soon enough," Nanaki told them. "For now, we are here."
And so he told them of the great battle fought here once long ago, and of a hero's death - he regretted not knowing more of the event, and could tell it only as it had been told to him centuries ago from his friend's fractured memory. He told them the story of Cloud, the man who had saved the world many times over. He was the true hero, in Nanaki's eyes.
"Do not forget." The cubs nodded. "Now, come."
The three continued on toward Midgar. The young ones galloped and played in the shallow water; Nanaki didn't mind - cubs would be cubs - so long as they could focus on learning once they reached their destination. On his part, the warm water felt good on his tired muscles. Ahead of him, the two leapt about with a vigor Nanaki knew had long since left his own body. He was getting old, and he could feel it.
When they reached the overgrown outer sectors, they had to slow, travelling single file along streets choked with trees and underbrush. The wider highways were still partly paved, leaving a clear strip down the center where vines and grass hadn't been able to find a foothold, but farther from the roads the city looked like a forest, with what had once been the outskirts now being a wide belt of trees girdling Midgar.
As they moved farther into the heart, under the shadow of the crumbling Plate, the cubs became more reluctant to stray, instead following Nanaki almost nose-to-tail. It wasn't the way of warriors, but Nanaki could scarcely blame them. Amidst the metal, fewer green things were visible, and the shadows were more pronounced and more menacing due to the lack of apparent life. It was a world apart from their familiar sun and rock and visible horizon, and even he felt the fur on his back rise as they passed completely under the overhanging Plate and left the daylight behind.
It took several false starts before he found the direction he was looking for and entered Sector 7. Not much was left after the Plate had fallen, and no one had bothered to rebuild it since, but there was one street free of debris that led where he wanted to go. It was almost pitch-dark except for his torch-like tail and the two faint glows from the cubs, but the way ahead was straight and there was no greenery to trip them up.
The better part of an hour passed before they came to their destination. The cubs were panting in the stifling heat and stagnant air, and even Nanaki was winded, when he stopped in front of a half-crushed building of sagging metal. The two looked up at him in confusion, but nothing more spectacular was forthcoming. He swished his tail in front of a round sign on the ground, a sign that had once hung proudly outside the headquarters of the secret organization.
"Seventh Heaven," he read to them. "All the saviors of the Planet came here once." And so he told them of AVALANCHE, and of Meteorfall, and of how a group of people - himself included - had saved the world from total destruction at the hands of a madman. He told them of great battles, of the friends he'd had. "They are gone now, but do not forget."
The cubs were all too happy to be heading back into the open air as Nanaki led them to the top of the Plate and through the tropical garden there, until they reached the foot of the imposing wreck of the Shinra Tower. Nanaki, having lived among humans for much of his life, was no longer overawed by the looming presence, but the cubs stared up with wide eyes, clearly cowed that something rivalling the mountains in size could be made by mere mortals.
"Humans," Nanaki said, but his voice was not condescending. "They dream big. So grandiose, so ambitious, but so fleeting." So short-lived. He sighed, a hundred faces floating in a mirage across his vision. All had been his friends, all had passed on. He found himself, for the first time, longing to follow them.
There was much more he could have taught the cubs, but he turned around and headed back to the outskirts, where just inside the shade a red-cloaked figure was waiting ankle-deep in water.
Crimson eyes looked up, as sharp as ever. "You're late." And you brought company.
Nanaki heard the silent accusation as if it had been spoken. "Every generation must preserve the knowledge of the previous. And I wanted you to be on good terms with them."
The gunman looked only at Nanaki, clearly not interested in meeting someone new. The cubs were subdued and stood quietly.
"Perhaps we can find a place to sit, somewhere that's not so...wet." Vincent's distaste was evident, and they headed into the city a ways to a building whose porch wasn't too overgrown. The human sat on the steps, one knee drawn up; Nanaki lay near him, chin on forepaws, and looked across at the shadows and greenery. The cubs sat on the bottom step, tails trailing the ground, and watched them.
"How's Lucrecia?" Nanaki was, of course, the one to break the silence.
"Sleeping. Still. Deneh?"
The red beast nodded toward the cubs. "Her newest litter. She is doing well, but...slower."
The questions were formalities, habits cemented after five hundred repetitions; neither expected any change in the answers, and Nanaki doubted if Vincent would really care if there was a change - he had seemed more distant than usual in their past several meetings.
It was several minutes before Nanaki spoke again. "Last year, I had said I hoped to travel the world once more, to visit again all the places that I have been."
As he paused, Vincent prompted, "Hm."
"I couldn't find the energy. I think I waited too long. I'm content in Cosmo Canyon now, in the warm sun and familiar features of my home. Just coming here was quite a journey."
Vincent hm'd again and didn't look at him. Nanaki rested his head once more on his paws.
"Red."
The beast looked up. Vincent had a queer expression, his mouth vaguely smiling but his eyes tight. Not all that strange for him, actually.
"Do you remember when people used to call you that?"
"Of course."
"Then you haven't seen enough of the world yet. When you attain so much knowledge you can't even remember your memories, that's when you can quit." The human stood and stepped down to street level. "Nanaki? Next year...let's not meet. I'll see you in two years."
Nanaki nodded. "Very well. Goodbye, Vincent." He stayed lying on the porch until even the crimson cloak was lost in the shadows. Finally he pulled himself to his feet and leapt down, the cubs at his heels. They loped off back the way they had come that morning, although this time Nanaki was a bit slower leaping up the cliff-face. At the top, he turned and looked back over the once-proud city that had dared to rule the world; the city he had partly helped destroy; the city once inhabited by his friends but now home to only memories. Vincent was wrong. Forgetting one's own past was no way to live, not for a mortal. Nanaki doubted he would travel much anymore.
Two years from that day, the red-cloaked figure returned Midgar. He wandered the streets until sunset, but there was no sign of any other living thing there. Eventually he left, only to come again the next year.
Two half-grown beasts were waiting for him on a crumbling porch, but the third never appeared.
Vincent didn't come back to the city after that day.