Very important AN: After watching Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children in HD (and in full length! Not to mention how much it's better this way both graphically and plot-wise than the abridged version I had and watched many times), I had this urge to write a fic. I wanted it to be more profound than the movie is. Feedback is much appreciated! :) If I receive at least 6 reviews, I'll continue this. I don't want to sound like a bitch, but reviews are the only proof that somebody's actually reading this. Thank you in advance! Enjoy the story!

Rating: M

Genre: Romance/Angst, maybe some humor later

Pairing: Yazoo/Reno

Disclaimer: I own only this story

Hitori, Futari

Chapter 1: Remnant with a Job

'Being alive again…' he mused. 'Being alive again…does it mean that we were privileged?' he still couldn't get used to the idea. He wondered what his brothers thought about the whole thing. Well, he didn't care much about Loz's opinion, since he didn't find him very smart. He was just a brute force, practically their brother's servant, slave, call it whatever, much as he himself was. But, unlike Loz, he possessed Sephiroth's charisma, beauty, and was pretty much smart. He smirked at the thought. Kadaj was not the only one who inherited wisdom from Sephiroth. Therefore, he cared to hear Kadaj's opinion on the subject.

Namely, the Lifestream had practically spitted them out several days after their infamous battle with Cloud and those stupid Turks. Nobody knew why, but it was a good thing they had been thrown out of that, well, substance. Luckily, they'd landed far, far away from Midgar, where no one could disturb them. They had to figure out what to do next. It was needless to say that the three of them were listless. There was nothing they could do now, when they'd been deprived of their original purpose of being alive. It had all been for Mother's sake. And now, without even that to cling onto, they were like empty husks. There was no purpose in carrying Sephiroth's genes when they served no purpose for him. Everything seemed dark and uncertain. And Yazoo wanted to know what Kadaj, their leader, thought about it. He wanted to know if his witty brother had any clue what to do with this absurd existence.

Still, the brother with the longest hair was aware of his brother's, so to say, condition. Kadaj had been in a deep depression for a while now. His usually loquacious self refused to speak to both Loz and him. He just sat there, on one rock, and looked somewhere in the distance. It appeared that his spirit had been broken together with that silly box, plastic box, no less, that represented their Mother. It was hard to believe that iron-willed, zealous youth could be so easily broken. Yazoo had no other choice but to believe it was so. Still, he wondered if he felt anything at all. For the most of the time, the Sephiroth's embodiment of charisma and beauty was indifferent to all the things around him. Not that he himself felt broken; it was in his nature to be cold-hearted, much as his creator had been.

He wondered if Kadaj was just in deep thought. If he was not, maybe it would be wise if he himself thought about what to do next. Besides, they had no mutual goal whatsoever, not anymore. Perhaps they should go separate ways and try to assimilate with the rest of the people. The hindrance would certainly be their trademark—hair color and mako eyes, but maybe it was worth trying. Maybe people could forgive and accept them, even if it was just a tiny possibility for such an outcome; Yazoo was willing to try.

The night was cloudless and it was cold. They were sitting around the fire; Kadaj's eyes were fixed on the fire before him, and he still looked apathetic, indifferent to his surroundings. The almighty fire, which was barely there, illuminated his pale, roundish face. Loz never knew how to set it, and Yazoo had no interest in it at all. Not at the moment. He had to think about his future. He had to think if he even deserved it, and if there was any future for people like them. If they could be really called people. They were just somebody's remnants, villains who everybody hated and feared. Were they meant to look at this sky, to feel the breeze caress their faces, eat food, be with women, do anything? He didn't know if he needed anything. But still, he was willing to try.

Imagine how dreadful it would be to discover that you lived for something that was other man's memories, other man's goals, and his revenge, not yours. What it would it be if you could feel his presence in your head, in your entire body, and still don't know what it is? Only Kadaj knew, and it infuriated him, Yazoo could tell. When his brother had found out about Sephiroth, because he could feel him a lot better than Loz and him, he definitely knew that something was off, and that they weren't doing it for themselves. What a terrible truth, to find out that you are just one third of some crazy man, who cannot leave stupid people alone even after his death.

Having no personality was stupid, Yazoo mused very often. Their Mother, it hadn't been their Mother at all. It had been just a means necessary for the only other thing they knew—reunion. At that time, they hadn't known why they needed it or what it was. It had just been a natural urge. Later on, when he was 'dead', everything was as clear as day. Mother was just means to make the three of them one entity.

Those discoveries were defeating, and as Yazoo thought more, he found his life more absurd. What did he know about himself? He was a sadist. He was evil. He liked fishy, dark doings. Hell, he'd even enjoyed when he drove those helpless and terrified children to Kadaj, so that the latter could 'cure' them. He never cared. He was bored when there was no action, and was thrilled when he fought and harmed people, and created chimera, of which they were afraid so much. He never liked to talk much, and was always getting infuriated when somebody offended Mother. Mother…that absurd term. That absurd excuse for their lives. He even thought that he had been given a new chance just in order to go find that redhead, that stupid Turk, and stuff his face with dynamite, just to let him taste his own medicine. But no. Yazoo knew that revenge was not why he had been given a new start. As far as he knew, there might be no reason at all.

"Hey, Kadaj", he started. His brother lifted his head in his wicked manner of his, looking at him through his silver bangs. Yazoo spoke languidly, as it was his wont at times. "I've been thinking for a while." He had their full attention. Loz was curious as to what Yazoo would say next.

"Yes?" the broken remnant encouraged him to proceed.

"I'm going to Midgar. I think we should all go." He said. "I think we should go to that shachou of yours and have him examine us." Kadaj's eyes had their old shine in them for just a millisecond. He whipped his brother with his venomous look.

"You think this life is given to us for nothing?" he asked, his beautiful turquoise eyes widened in some kind of bewilderment. "We have no power, not anymore." He admitted, the wickedness in his voice still there, but it had a tone of sadness to it. "We can't go there."

"I thought that it would be a good opportunity for us, Kadaj." Yazoo said, whining a bit with his manly voice. He looked as if he was bored. Undoubtedly, they were brothers, with their psychotic antics, such as strange looks, exaggerated gestures, almost theatrical (mostly Kadaj had them), and so on. Their voices, although they were completely different, Yazoo's being more manly, had the same tone of wickedness to them. "We can gain citizenship when they find us normal. And maybe we could just hope to find some job."

Kadaj shook his head, furiously standing up. "That's not you at all!" he walked to where Yazoo was sitting and bent down to have a better look at his face. " 'Hope to find some job'. What do you mean by that? To succumb to that society? To be their slaves. No!" he shook his arms demonstratively, and then started to circle around the fire. The two brothers followed him with their eyes. "We won't be anyone's employees or something equally stupid! We have some greater goal in life!" at this, he lifted his arms high in the air.

"B-but what goal, brother?" Loz managed to ask in a deep, silent, voice. It was wavering a bit. "We already died once. Mother—Mother is no longer there…" at the mention of her name, his voice wavered some more; he was on the verge of tears now. "We are…trash." Kadaj turned his head towards him in a predatory manner, his eyes narrowing. "I think that Yazoo has the point."

"That was to be expected of you anyway, since you're such a crybaby, Loz." Kadaj gently retorted. There was some cynicism in his voice, as if he was struggling with his rage and brotherly love. But, knowing Kadaj, that could as well not be the case here. "But you, Yazoo…That's so…"

"Out of my character?" Yazoo finished for him. "But, Kadaj…" he started with a whiny voice yet again. "How do you know it is really me, anyway? What is my personality? I'm just his remnant, part of his mind." He shrugged. "How can you, or I—for that matter— know that I'm me? Who am I?" Kadaj was processing the thought for a few moments, then concluded that there was some truth in his brother's words.

"Let me tell you something." Kadaj continued going around the fire, swaying his hips. "No matter how human we are now, they will never give us the citizenship. We'll never get out of there alive. Moreover, even if you find the job, which I doubt you will, when they find out you're in town, no matter how much your employer praised you, they wouldn't care. They would just take you away and—BAM!" he suddenly turned, his eyes ready to pop out, his face only inches apart from Yazoo's. "You're gone." He finished, and finally sat beside his brother. "Got my point, huh?"

Yazoo looked somewhere aside. "Yes, I do." He said. "But I will try anyway. I don't care if ShinRa finds out about us, or me there. I will fight them, as always." He looked self-confident. "I am able to take care of myself. That's the least I know." Several minutes passed in silence, and then Kadaj turned to Yazoo, the same old shine in his eyes.

"Then go to Midgar." He said. "I will go to Forgotten City. I have some plans there. If you ever realize how your plan is stupid, I will be generous enough to forgive you. And then you can join me and Loz." He had that evil smirk attached to his face. Yazoo wondered if he even had Loz's consent on this. Probably not. So they would go separate ways, after all.

The day was gray and everything on earth seemed so lifeless. Wasteland. A furious motorbike was ripping the air; silver, long hair was fluttering behind its owner like a flag. It was silky and beautiful, but a bit damp because of humidity, which made the air so heavy. Before him was the endless Midgar skyline, grayish and unattractive. He had already made his decision and was not to back out. He wanted to do it. He wanted to do anything, to try to live.

It was early Monday morning, and people were still at their homes, which was exactly what Yazoo wanted. He didn't want to draw the unnecessary attention. However, the sound of his bike was a totally different story. While he was driving, he was wondering what he wanted to do. What kind of job? Would he like to do some legal job? Or…?

He parked his massive bike on the somewhat secluded place, and headed for a walk. It was the same as he remembered—all gray, all dark, all sorrowful, city in ruins, post-apocalyptic scene. He licked his lips in delight. It was so lifeless. People were desperate. They were poor. Healthy now, but poor. At least that was how he saw it. He was of the same colors—tight black leather cloak, long, sliver hair, and mako eyes. That was his first step to assimilation, he thought.

After several hours of aimless walking through some suspicious alleys and avoiding people that were slowly beginning to gather and go to their respective works, he stopped in front of some butchery. They needed a worker. Yazoo tilted his head aside. 'This is interesting.' He thought. He could work on all kinds of meat, and see all that blood. It was still imprinted in his nature, that bloodlust. If only he could see blood and cut that meat, it could be enough. It could be a good starting point. At that moment, he liked it. But maybe he would come to hate it. He needed to know his preferences. 'Yeah, definitely good.' He took the ad from the window and entered the shop. He hoped he could act as normal as possible. He found the middle-aged man with black mustache at the counter.

"Good morning, I'm looking for a job." He said. 'Good morning…I think that's the expression'. He hoped he'd sounded polite. But then again, what was politeness anyway?

The owner looked at him a bit suspiciously, as if trying to recall where he had seen him. But soon his smile replaced his skepticism. "Yes. If you know how to work with a cleaver, then the job's yours." He shrugged.

Yazoo nodded his head. "Yeah, I have some experience." Actually, he had none. But cleaver sounded fun, so why not trying it?

AN: I hope it's good for a start. Once again, please write a review!

The title: Hitori, Futari: hitori (jap.) one person, being alone; futari (jap.) two people, a couple