Returner
By: The DayDreaming
Warnings: Slight CloudxYuffie. Slight language. Constant tense switching. Perhaps a bit of OOC-ness. A lack of trying.
Dedicated to: always-kh!!! So sorry for taking so long! I hope this makes up for the wait.
Summary: "You came back." In which Cloud is found, Yuffie is lost, and the burden of wings is ruminated. Slight CloudxYuffie
Disclaimer: The characters and universe described in this work do not belong to me, but Square-Enix and Disney. I do not make any attempts to claim ownership, and am only a lowly fanfiction writer trying to get off her sick kicks.
Please note: This story has not been betaed. That means that I have not proofread, and it is not perfect. I'll get around to it eventually. But, hopefully it isn't too bad that you won't enjoy.
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Once upon a time, a young girl met an old woman. The woman, hair white as the sun and skin ancient like textured parchment, told the girl a story.
The beginning of the story was simple, and began just the same as this story does: "Once upon a time, there was a race of people, beautiful and powerful and intelligent…"
And the old woman went on, telling the girl all of the amazing feats this race performed. Most importantly, the woman emphasized the race's beautiful wings, broad and magnificent, and as blue as a sea of sapphires.
The girl listened in rapture, head gently leant against the old woman's knees, until at last, after an eternity, the day drew to a close, and the two parted company.
The girl never met the old woman again, and heard only about the death of one of the Great Elders of the royal family some time later.
But, no matter how time passed, hanging precariously on a delicate string, the old woman's words remained in the girl's mind, and for a time, the only dreams she held were of great beings, rising from the sea with sodden wings and flying towards the moon.
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But all dreams come to an end, don't they?
No one can reach the moon on wings strung together from water and wishes.
All they can do is keep reaching upwards, hoping that the fall won't be too hard.
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Cloud is a magician, and his greatest trick is his disappearing act. That's all Yuffie can think for a time after he vanishes, leaving behind trodden flowers and forgotten promises. In fact, it's always the first thing Yuffie thinks when he disappears, and she can only imagine his dark form slipping away into the hard mists to fight the very archetype of hopeless despair.
They wait for him as always, and think about how well he was doing, and then try not to think too far beyond that. It raises questions that are better left forgotten, since no one really wanted to dabble in another's darkness.
Aerith had been the most upset, because, despite her understanding nature, Yuffie is of the opinion that Aerith can be and is a bitter person on the inside. She's better now, and the flowers grow all the brighter for it; Yuffie believes that Aerith might have tried to dig the roots of her flowers into the hole in her chest, to breach the empty spaces.
Squall hadn't been phased in the least, and still, even months after the disappearance, says that he'll be back.
Yuffie doesn't have a stance on the matter, and she's not quite sure how that makes her feel, other than touching on the fact that, even if she didn't know him that well, the idea that he's gone leaves an ache in her throat.
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The old woman smiled down at her, touching her hand, before continuing with her story.
"They were amazing in every way. Courageous and strong, beautiful and kind, wise and intelligent—"
"Aren't wise and intelligent the same thing?"
"In a sense, yes. But, intelligence is what you learn from a book, and is the ability to put your mind to work. Being wise, on the other hand, means that you can look at a situation and grasp a meaning, and use that meaning to better yourself as a person."
"Are you sure?" The girl shot her a suspicious look.
"Perhaps. A word doesn't have to be bound to a specific meaning. It can be whatever you want it to be; though, I do advise trying to use words as they were meant to be used, so as not to confuse the general populace."
The girl made a small noise of impatience at the back of her throat, signaling that she was done with her questioning and was prompting the old woman to continue. The woman smiled and touched her hand again.
"Where was I?...Oh, yes! They were so gifted that many people thought them to be gods, roaming about with great wings that seemed to be made of the very essence of water. They were revered, and held much sway over the world—"
"This place?" The girl interrupted, confusion written into her features.
"Hm, no. An entirely different world, if you'll believe that. This world, where we live and breathe, was once part of a much greater whole."
"Why is the world in pieces now?"
"You're very sharp," the woman said approvingly, "That is an entirely different tale, one that some believe to be just an old legend."
"Do you believe in it?"
The old woman smiled slightly, "Yes, with all my heart. I want to believe in it so much. I want to think that there are other worlds out there, parts and pieces, our brothers and sisters, waiting like lights in the darkness."
The girl was silent for a while, staring hard at the old woman. The old woman merely smiled back and touched her hand once more, drawing her young acquaintance's attention towards the previously forgotten tale.
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The day begins as per usual, thick with mists and the blinking out of a million fireflies. Yuffie awakens and jumps out of bed, stretching her limbs until all the cracks and kinks are gone.
She showers, and while doing so, squawks out a poor imitation of a song. She has never been much of a singer, but that doesn't stop her, especially since she's begun to live on her own. Seventeen years old is old enough to be considered an adult, she thinks, and loudly exclaims so every time Aerith asks if Yuffie might want to move in with her.
The house is quiet, much like any other day, but, as Yuffie is slathering her toast with at least half a jar of jam sprinkled with five or so packets of substitute sugar (she needs to stay healthy, after all), she can feel in her bones that something will occur; it's a feeling like when she knows there's a treasure nearby or a sucker to be swindled.
It's only when she's on her daily patrol of the great maw that the insistent feelings of anticipation culminate into a crescendo of goose-pimples on her arms and a shiver that wracks her spine all the way up to the nape of her neck.
As she rubs her arms and begins reaching for the phone strapped to her shorts, in a motion to report in to Squall, a white-hot light bursts into the sky, streaking down like a meteor. Yuffie stands, mouth agape, while Squall fruitlessly calls out to her from the tiny speaker on her phone.
The light of the meteor begins to dim and turn a vibrant, fiery blue as it nears the earth, and before Yuffie can blink and re-hinge her jaw back onto her face, the anomaly crashes into the small, cliff-side area where Sephiroth once resided, laying in wait for Cloud the Magician.
Yuffie snaps the phone shut, mind racing, and cuts out the annoying buzz of Squall's voice. She immediately bolts for the cliffs, knowing in her heart that this was what she—what everyone had been waiting for.
The small cliff holds a fantastic view of the old castle that had once resided in Maleficent's clawed grasp, now merely ruins of twisted spires. Upon arriving, Yuffie's eyes immediately land upon a still, dark form, a tuft of golden-yellow peeking out from over a black knit-shirt.
Her breath stills in her chest at the sight, something sticking in her throat after identifying what she knew to be an unconscious, or possibly dead (if Sephiroth was so kind as to even return the tortured man's body) Cloud Strife.
She brushes aside her strange behavior, quickly swallowing the lump in her throat, in favor of checking the man's status.
Somehow she knows though, that he will be okay; that he has won again and for good.
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"They were people of pure heart, you know," the old woman said, "Perhaps all people were, back then, when the worlds were whole."
The girl frowned, poking the woman, "Whaddaya mean, 'pure heart?'"
"I mean, that they held no darkness inside of them. They held not jealousy or strife within their minds, and their souls were free from the restraints of shadows."
"Aren't all people like that?" the girl asked.
"Hm, not anymore. Everyone has a bit of darkness in them, me and you included," the old woman intoned softly, "But there is also light. The greater the light, the greater the shadow, as I once heard. But, even in darkness one can choose the right path, leading to salvation. A dark shadow can grow into the brightest and most pure of lights…"
The girl's eyes slid shut, and she began poking the old woman again, "Keep goooing!"
"Aha, yes, yes. Anyways, this race of winged people lived in a kingdom that prospered greatly. They all lived comfortable lives because of their ability to learn and work together."
"But, they're gone now, right?" the girl interrupted, "If they were such great people, what made them go away?"
The old woman patted the girl's hand, eyes saddening, "A darkness, deep and black, sewed a seed of destruction."
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The first thing Cloud awakes to is the dim, cracked plaster of a low ceiling. The spider-web cracks are blurred, and make his head pound. He rolls over, and the second thing he sees are bright violet eyes lined with thick, ashy lashes.
"You're awake!" Yuffie pipes out, the noise trumpeting into Cloud's eardrums and making him grimace, "Thought you never would for a coupla hours there, chocobo-head!"
"What…?" Cloud mumbles, trying to reach for his forehead to massage his temples in an attempt to relieve the heady pulsing against his skull.
"Everyone was really worried, y'know! Especially Aerith! She started crying. And Squally-head! You shoulda seen 'im, the smug bastard," Yuffie continues to ramble, face moving ever closer to Cloud's head, in an effort to make him listen, "Where the heck have you been?! You just up and disappeared. We thought that you might not come back, and you took Tifa with you. Five months! Could have at least called."
Yuffie proceeds to knock on Cloud's skull; Cloud moans and bares his teeth at her, a snarl forming on his lips, before he looks up at her again. Her eyes look watery and there is a crooked smile on her face, like it doesn't quite know what to do with itself.
"You came back," she says.
And isn't that enough?
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"Those who knew of the winged people grew jealous, you see. They believed that they hid great knowledge and technology within their culture, things that people wanted so much, they would kill for it," the old woman's voice was calm and severe. The girl nodded attentively, rustling the woman's skirts with the motion.
"As those without wings grew more and more envious as the days passed, a darkness formed in their pure hearts, corrupting them. Eventually, all of those tainted hearts joined together as a force to attack the winged people. They wished to take what they believed rightfully belonged to them.
"But the winged people did not want to fight. They knew of what those who hated wanted from them, knew that in fighting darkness with violence, it would only bring about the taint unto their own people.
"They did not fight," the old woman spoke, conviction lacing her voice. She smoothed over the girl's hair, thick, dark locks shifting at her touch.
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"You'll fall," Cloud says, walking along the banister of the almost fully rebuilt postern.
"No I won't! I'm too awesome to fall, nyuk nyuk nyuk!" Yuffie squawks, balancing precariously on the thick stone railing. She takes a step forward, minute grains of sand skidding under her boots.
Cloud sighs, blond spikes waving in the wind as a gust of cold air washes over his face, strong enough to sting.
"Oh, just watch, you big chocobo! Only a great ninja such as myself can do—this!"
Yuffie takes a quick step forward, arms up in the air, before flipping herself into a cartwheel. She flips twice, arms springing gamely with each attempt before righting herself; she then somersaults over the side of the banister landing with a shit-eating grin before her singular audience.
Cloud gasps softly and stands stock-still as the young ninja performs her feat, eyes watching for the tell-tale signs of an imminent fall. When the ninja rights herself, Cloud sends her a glare and a severe frown before moving around her.
"Hey! Where ya going?!" Yuffie shouts, toddling after him, "Wanna see me juggle while doing the tango?"
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"The winged knew that they were doomed if they were to fight," the old woman reiterated.
The girl tilted her head, confusion showing in her eyes, "How could they not fight? Those guys, the bad guys, wouldn't they kill them?"
"Ah, that is the question, isn't it?" the woman smiled, "There are many theories. The most widely accepted though, is that the winged people transformed themselves."
"Transformed, like made themselves into something else? Like, like super heroes so they could save the day?" the girl asked eagerly. The story had just become much more interesting.
"Not quite," at this the girl pouted, "Birds."
The girl made a noise of confusion, a tiny grunt, and then proceeded to poke the old woman, "Whaaat? Birds?!"
"Birds," the woman repeated, gently prying away the girl's insistent fingers, "The most beautiful you could ever imagine, or so one would assume."
"What'd they look like?"
The old woman was a bit perplexed at this question, obviously trying to remember. She absentmindedly started nipping at her bottom lip, "Oh, I suppose they would have looked like herons (1). I've always imagined them to have beautifully long necks and legs. And wings! Magnificent wings fit for angels. But, I guess they would also look rather otherworldly. Like something from a dream…"
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"You'll fall," Cloud says. He always does.
"No I won't!" Yuffie says in retaliation. She always does, too.
Yuffie continues to walk atop the banister of the postern, and Cloud continues to follow.
They do it often enough; often enough to be routine, now that Cloud has stayed for a month. Everyone is surprised.
Yuffie chucks an almost empty potion bottle at his head, and Cloud deftly catches it before throwing it over the side of the postern, the glinting of the glass lost to the bottomless swirling mists.
Out of the blue, something not so routine, Yuffie jumps off of the banister in front of Cloud and stares at him, hard, ashy-violet eyes piercing into his own. After a full ten seconds of this, Cloud standing still in bewilderment, Yuffie pulls her face away, scrutinizing look fading.
"You've changed," she says, as if it were the greatest epiphany ever known to man.
Cloud tilts his head to the side (everyone agrees that when he does, it's possibly the cutest thing since baby moogles), confused, before replying, "And you haven't."
Yuffie puffs her cheeks out, face reddening, "Well! I'm not the one that needed to change, Mr. Emo McChocobutt!"
"Oh?" Cloud, places his hand on his hip, face blank, "And what makes you think that I did?"
"That! Right there!" Yuffie jumps up and down, pointing excitedly to an even more confused Cloud's face, "See?"
"No."
"You care, lamebrain!"
A look, much like when one steps in something unpleasant that just won't dislodge itself form one's foot, crosses over Cloud's face, before he shakes his head, voice monotone, "Yuffie, I—"
"When we first met you," Yuffie interrupts, "You couldn't have cared less about us. You were closed off and writing crappy poetry in blood over in a dark corner—"
Cloud makes a small noise in affront.
"But now, y'know, you're a lot better! You stay around people, and you talk a little bit more, and you tell us when you're leaving so we know that you haven't just up and died somewhere because you gave yourself a concussion swinging that big hunk of metal around—"
Another affronted noise.
"You just, just…" Yuffie seems to have run out of steam, trying to search for the proper words. Cloud raises his eyebrow, waiting, "You seem lighter, that's all."
"…Lighter…?" Cloud mumbles, his eyes glazing slightly.
Yuffie nods her head enthusiastically, jumping up and down, "Yup! You're not as much of an emo anymore, y'know?"
"Hm," Cloud looks away, into the swirling mists rising from behind the banister of the postern. After a little while of this, Cloud deeply contemplating something having to do with the meaning of life or string theory (or whatever he thinks of), and Yuffie hopping from foot to foot, futilely trying to get a reaction out of Cloud, Yuffie exclaims that it's time to go, and drags the still-reminiscing Cloud home.
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"What was it that these wing guys had that made everyone hate them? And how did they turn themselves into birds?!"
"Ahaha, you're so enthusiastic. You remind me of my granddaughter (2). Let me see," the old woman patted the girl's head, humming nasally to herself for a couple seconds before continuing, "First of all, others didn't hate those with wings, they were envious—"
"Sounds like people hated them to me. Dad says people who attack other people hate them," the girl interrupted, again.
"Hm," the old woman sat back, rocking a bit in her chair and making the girl, whom had been laying her head in the woman's lap, let out a squeak as she slid languidly to the floor, "True words. I suppose, in a sense, the others really did hate them. Hate breeds darkness, after all…if…the winged…"
The girl impatiently poked the old woman's legs, "C'mon, finish answering the rest!"
"O-Oh! Of course, dear! I just keep getting so sidetracked. You make people think a lot, don't you?"
"My dad says that I can melt people's brains!"
"Ah, I see," the old woman let out a creaky laugh and settled on her rocking chair, "What were your questions?"
"Why everyone hated 'em, and how they turned into birds."
"Ah, yes. Well, the winged held great intelligence, and therefore knowledge that others wanted. Everyone wants to know everything, you see, dear. They were also beautiful and strong; people wanted to be just as beautiful and strong as them.
"And then, there were the wings. Everyone wants wings."
The girl pulled a fish face, scrunching her face together and pushing out her lips, "I don't! Wings are really weird!"
"Well, it's a matter of what people believe wings symbolize," the woman supplied, hooking her thumbs together and spreading her palms and fingers outward, reaching, "Wings symbolize freedom for those who have none. The power to just fly, free from the world at a moment's notice, the ability to escape; it's a beautiful thing, dear."
"So, everyone wants to be free?"
"Yes."
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Yuffie's home is small and dingy, with the shutters falling off the windows and the doors in desperate need of oil for their creaky hinges. The plants on the window sills are dead, and the shingles on the roof are sliding off.
That doesn't deter Yuffie from making her way home every day and giving a content sigh as she enters through the front door.
Cloud, on the other hand, is a bit more dissatisfied with his current living conditions, and makes it known immediately after Yuffie calls out 'Home, sweet hooome!'
"You need to sweep the floor, Yuffie."
"Awww, but Clooouuudy! Middle-aged Deformed Samurai Tortoises is gonna come on soon, like, right now!"
"…"
"Come on, I know you like watching it, too!"
"…Fine. But afterwards…"
"Done and done!"
"By the way, Tifa called. She wants to come over and work on the roof with us tomorrow…"(3)
Cloud had come back into everyone's lives (more like fallen, really); some more-so than others. When he had been found, Yuffie had dragged his unconscious, bleeding body back to her house, the closest house to their current position, seeing as it was on the outskirts of the dilapidated city. He had awoken there, and stayed to rest for several more days.
He could have left. Yuffie would have understood. But, he didn't. Days stretched into a week, then two and three weeks. Cloud had built a niche, and Yuffie, despite her whining, really didn't mind living with someone so much.
He stayed. He had his own room in the tiny house, with a creaky bed and warm quilt, his own tooth brush that played Mambo de Chocobo whenever he turned it on in his mouth, his own coffee mug and brand of cereal.
Cloud had grown into the house, and Yuffie around him. She got up early in the morning and started clattering around, which resulted in him groggily waking up while she made a pot of coffee, even though she never drank the stuff. They'd brush their hair side-by-side in the closet-sized bathroom, and stumble into each other while trying to pull on their boots. They'd go out and walk into the main portion of town to do their respective jobs, then meet up at the postern to clamber their way home, where they would sit, squeezed together, on the too-small couch and watch cheesy cartoons until they got hungry and Cloud bothered to pull himself away to make dinner.
Somewhere along the way, Yuffie had gotten used to Cloud's stoic ways, and Cloud used to her innate annoyingness and hyper-activity.
It is when Yuffie is awoken from her doze by someone roughly shaking her shoulder and she opens her eyes to one Cloud Strife wearing a green, frilly apron and a tray with two frozen dinners on it being held under her nose, that she wonders how everything between them meshes so well together.
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"There is ancient magic, that much I know."
"What happened to it?" the girl pipes up.
"Oh, over the millennia it has been forgotten. It's still there, I think, we just can't see it. The people of old, they knew that magic's ways. They built gods and religions from that magic."
"So, the wing guys used ancient magic to turn themselves into birds?"
The old woman smiled, patting the girl's head, "In so many words, yes. They cast a spell upon themselves, a spell which supposedly turned them into the thing that enabled them to achieve what they yearned for the most."
The girl looked imploringly up at the old woman, eyebrows cocked, "They wanted to be birds?"
"Hm, no. They turned into birds in order to get what they most desired."
The young girl looked contemplative while the old woman reached over for a glass of water to wet her parched throat. After a couple minutes the girl spoke, "So, they needed to become birds. Birds have wings, so they wanted to have wings? But didn't they already have wings?"
The old woman remained silent, and allowed the child to continue.
"So, those guys' wings weren't…maybe good enough? They wanted freedom, right?"
The old woman's smile grew greater, showing her slightly crooked teeth, "Ah, child. You've just figured out what took philosophers years to even begin to ponder. Children are such simple wonders…"
"Hey! I'm not a kid! I'm the greatest ninja there ever was!"
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"You'll fall," Cloud says.
"No, I won't!" Yuffie shouts, swinging her legs like pendulums over the edge of the postern's banister.
"Hmph, what about yesterday?"
"That was just a bad case of wind, nyuk nyuk! You honestly think I would have fallen and gone kersplat! from something like a little girly breeze?"
"They clock the winds here as being forty miles per hour on average."
"Nyeh," Yuffie sticks her tongue out at Cloud, "Easy!"
Cloud sighs and merely leans against the railing, letting his eyes trail over the flagstones comprising the postern's floor. The sun is sending out a myriad of colors as the day comes to a close.
"Besides," Yuffie pipes up, breaking the usual routine, "You'll catch me, right?"
Cloud looks over at her questioningly, body relaxed against the stone railing, "How?"
"You've got that wing, right? And I'm pretty sure you can fly with it! I remember Sora telling me about how you used to fly around in battle."
Cloud's body seems to tense, becoming a dark statue.
"Cloud?" Yuffie leans over and peers at him, almost losing her grip and sliding over the edge. Cloud reacts a second too late and jolts to consciousness just as Yuffie rights herself.
"I-I,…" Cloud's eyes are troubled, "I don't think I could. That wing…it's…an avatar of the darkness in my heart. The darkness…it might consume me."
"You saying that you're scared of the dark, Cloud?" Yuffie laughs, flipping herself over so that she lands on the postern's floor, before walking over to poke Cloud in the shoulder, "Jeeze, Chocobutt, want a nightlight?"
Cloud scowls at her, eyes brightening slightly in his unspoken anger. He opens his mouth to say something, but Yuffie quickly swoops in to cut him off, "You're strong, y'know. Consider that a rare and bountiful compliment from the all-powerful, greatest-ninja-ever-to-grace-the-universe Yuffie!"
Cloud merely scoffs as she continues, "Didn't we teach you anything? We'll be there for you Cloud. No icky-gross darkness is gonna get you, and we promise to protect your virgin behind from that pedo-rapist with the long-ass sword."
Cloud practically chokes at her words, covering his mouth; Yuffie isn't sure if his face is going to break and some creaky laughing noise is going to come out of some hole in his throat, or he's eaten a bug.
"A-Anyways," Yuffie tries to ignore Cloud's reddening face, "No need to worry! We're here Cloud! So," Yuffie sticks out her pinky finger to him, and when Cloud hesitates to touch it she yanks the pinky of his right hand into an iron grip, "Promise me. If I ever fall, turn into Batman for me and catch me, yeah?"
Cloud looks at her for a long moment, eyes searching for any hint of sincerity in her eyes, and, satisfied with what he's found, nods.
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"They held a powerful affinity for water, I believe," the old woman said, dangling the half-full glass of water in front of the girl, "I heard they used to dance on it. Can you imagine? It's a lovely image."
"Whoa!" the girl mutters in awe, "I wanna be able to do that!"
"Hm, maybe when you're older, neh?"
"But I'm old enough!"
The old woman smiles and pats her head just a bit more pityingly, "Some things take more time than others. I'll try and show you some of the old books on magic when you're old enough. How does that sound?"
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Yuffie falls.
The day has had a brisk, constant breeze, seemingly magnified near the open spaces of the postern leading to the castle.
Yuffie is alone when it happens, patiently waiting for the stoic man by pacing back and forth along the stone railing.
It is only a moment of hesitation, of harsh, unrelenting gusts, of lost footing, of balance left unreclaimed.
Yuffie falls, and wishes she had wings.
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"So, where did they all go?" the girl asks, finally getting back on topic after holding a long debate over what the best kind of ice-cream to put in-between cookie sandwiches is.
"That's just it: no one knows," the old woman said, between bites of her sweet sandwich, mint cream dripping off the sides, "And that was the point. The winged never wished to be found. They fled and left behind all vestiges of their culture and ways of life. Everything was lost or destroyed by the dark raiders.
"They flew away as birds would, traveling the world; or, at least one would think."
"Maybe they went to find a new home, one where people wouldn't try and steal their stuff?" the girl supplied, chomping down on her own chocolate sandwich, and cringing during the brain-freeze aftermath.
"Yes, I'd like to think that," the woman agreed, "They say that the winged were immortal. I don't know if that's true, but if it is, and I'd like to think so, then perhaps they're still searching for that final paradise."
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It's the waking that's hardest.
Everything is a blur, one tightly knotted string that unravels into shaky lines of perception. Her skin is cold like fire, and every ragged breath she sucks in punches a whole into her sides. Her legs are askew, she thinks, and she can't move them; when she tries, the agony of one thousands swords slices through her, traveling up her knees, creeping past her thighs, and slithering along her spine, serpentine yet all-encompassing. She can't move her right arm; it feels as though nothing is there, and a slow fire burns at the socket in her shoulder, dislocated.
Her head. There are a million ways to describe it, but there is not a single word to be thought; it is there and gone, in and out, awake and asleep, and oh, how she wishes she could dream.
This is a nightmare, isn't it, she asks. A waking dream gone awry and Cloud will be getting her up in a minute, because it's always during the most agonizing parts of nightmares that people awaken, whether of their own volition or the benevolence of another, and here, this has to be the worst part, because she can't think of anything more agonizing.
The first few hours, Yuffie is unconscious. But then, her brain starts to work again, and she keeps waking up, no matter how tired she is, no matter how much she wants to fall asleep and never wake up to this torment.
It is the fifth time when Yuffie awakens, that she hears a noise beyond all her screaming and sobbing, though what seems loud in her punch-drunk ears is nothing but small whimpers and gasps. It is a fluttering noise, wings against stone, and out of the corner of her eyes, Yuffie sees the creature stand tall.
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"What was their name?" the girl finally decided to ask, sure that 'the winged' was not their official title.
"Hm," the old woman tapped her chin in thought, racking her brain for an answer, "I think it was…Yes, definitely 'Egresses."
"Egresses?"
"It's what the people who believe in them call them. 'Egress,' the act of going out, or emerging. I think it fits, but I don't use the term often. The winged sounds much more whimsical."
"You're kind of weird, you know that, right?" the girl said, resting her chin on the old woman's knee and sighing.
"Yes. Many people think so. But I think that makes everything more interesting in the long run, don't you?"
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The bird rests its head on her stomach, wrapping the rest of its long body along her side. The thick, blue feathers feel warm against Yuffie's frozen skin, and she is grateful for this one comfort.
It is the most magnificent bird she has ever seen, otherworldly with its coat of sky-blue feathers and long, slick beak attached to a long, slick neck attached to even longer, slick legs. It's tall, Yuffie knows, but she can't bother to figure out by how much.
When it had first appeared, Yuffie had been terrified that it was a heartless, come to claw out her heart from her weakened body. But, no, the creature had stood, making a long, blood-curdling call from deep in its throat as it dragged one of its wings on the ground. It had sidled up close to her and looked at her face with its head cocked to the side, one magnificently blue-colored eye watching her with intensity.
Its wing is broken, she absently thinks. From this thought stems the memory of her colliding with something large on her way down into the abyss; for what had seemed the longest time, she thought she was floating, until she met the hard packed earth with a thud and had awoken hours later to the sight of the bedraggled creature.
Head slightly clear, she takes the time to soak in her surroundings. It's dark, perhaps night, and she can feel the thick saturation of water in her boots and on her stockings and shorts. Water? Perhaps a small river draining out from one of the old entrances to the waterways, a system of water-filled tunnels that criss-cross all over Radiant Garden.
She knows she should move. The water is freezing, and hypothermia is sure to have set in by now, even though she really can't feel anything besides pain and the tight pinching of cool air on her skin.
She moans as she tries to pull herself up, useless arm trailing next her as she sits. The bird (it looks like some sort of heron, she thinks) moves its head away and lets out a small chirp in confusion. With a squeal, Yuffie drags herself away from the small river, inch by inch with her one good arm.
Her mouth is bloody by the time she's a couple feet away, teeth gnawing voraciously on her cheeks and lips, and throughout the entire process she's blacked out an innumerable amount of times.
The bird hops forward and takes up its previous resting place on her stomach, and Yuffie allows darkness to pull her down into sweet, numbing bliss.
----o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o----
Cloud thinks it odd when Yuffie doesn't show up at the postern when he arrives. He waits for her for two hours, back leaned casually against the stone banister. Every now and then, he'll pull out his phone and stare at the cheesy background image of Yuffie's grinning face squashed next to his own grimacing one, watching the digital numbers at the top tick forward.
Cloud calls Leon, and asks where she is; Leon replies that Yuffie already went home. Cloud goes home, too.
He's disconcerted to find that no one answers him when he opens the squeaky front entrance, and more confused when not a single soul appears to be present within the small abode. He calls Yuffie's phone, but all he gets is her cheesy, entirely-too-long-of-an-opening-message answering machine.
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"Those guys, the ones who wanted to get the Egresses' powers, what happened to them?"
"They drowned."
The girl's eyes bugged out, "Drowned? How?!"
"The darkness consumed them," the old woman answered gravely, eyes mournful, "Their hearts, caked in envy and hate, crumbled to the soft caresses of darkness. They drowned in their own greed. Maybe they deserved it. They destroyed a magnificent race of people, after all."
The girl made a small noise of disapproval in the back of her throat. The old woman noticed, and smiled, "I know that look in your eyes. You're right. Such bitter words should never be thought or uttered aloud. No one deserves to drown in darkness; no one deserves to be alone."
----o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o----
For three days, Yuffie lays at the bottom of the chasm; three agonizing days, laying in cold and blood and pain. The bird does not leave her side, it can't really, but Yuffie likes to think that it's because it likes her.
As Yuffie wallows in boredom the bird walks about, as if on patrol, and periodically calls out in its loud, haunting voice, or it will try and give Yuffie water.
The bird, Leviathan, as she had come to call it, had incessantly nipped at her headband on the second day. Yuffie, lips cracked and throat severely parched, had let the bird peck at her head while she lethargically breathed in and out, thick tongue clinging uselessly to the hard palette of her mouth. Finally, the bird had started tugging harshly, and Yuffie, with a weak, shivering hand, tugged away, the thick cloth. The bird had grabbed it and walked away, only to come back with the accessory completely saturated and dripping with water, presumably from the small flow a few feet down from her prone form. It held the headband to her lips, and Yuffie bit down and sucked hard on the cloth, moaning like a baby at the cool, sweet relief. Leviathan had proceeded to do this periodically.
Yuffie is grateful for him (something instinctively tells her that the bird is a male). He keeps her warm during the night, gives her water, and had, at one point, tried to give her food, but the poor meal of a small fish had only made Yuffie gag when she tried to chew on the slimy scales. Leviathan is even strong enough to fend off a few stray heartless that stumble off the beaten paths of Radiant Garden in search of an easy conquest.
Leviathan is perhaps the smartest bird she's ever seen, and the few times she manages to talk aloud, when her mind is fogged in a haze of pain and half-dreams, he seems to understand exactly what she's saying.
Yuffie's dreams are a blur. They come in a half-awake haze, where she can tell she is still in the chasm under the postern, but she seems to be swept away to another place altogether, where the soft, pale face of Cloud blushes and sputters at something she says or she's sitting among Aerith's bountiful bed of flowers.
One dream though, seems to come in crystal-clear and shaded at the same time. It's a dream of soft mutterings and pats on the head, old, wrinkled hands clasping young skin with honey-sweet smiles; a soft mouth spins tales of a creature, of wings, of those seeking freedom from the darkness.
One thought constantly swims in Yuffie's dazed mind: Wings symbolize freedom for those who have none.
Yuffie wishes she had wings to pull her from this endless abyss.
It is when Yuffie is enjoying one of her 'soft' dreams (as she calls them, since they seem so obscure and blurred out) that Leviathan stands from his resting place next to her and begins to scream. The shrill noise sounds remarkably human.
Yuffie opens her swollen eyes, and looks above, the only place her stiff neck will allow. It seems like there's nothing there; Leviathan continues his shrill cry.
With an exhausted sigh, Yuffie slips back into unconsciousness, eyes catching the barest glimpse of what appears to be a mirage; a strange, fanciful dream of a flash of yellow on one sure, swift wing.
----o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o----
"If they really are still around," the girl began, "Do you think you've ever seen one?"
The old woman looked contemplative, sucking on her teeth, before she turned to face the young girl, "No, I don't believe so. But, it would be wonderful. Such an amazing creature."
"I'm gonna try," the girl said with conviction.
The woman was perplexed, placing her soft, weathered hands atop the girl's head, "What do you mean?"
"I'm going to find an Egress. You'll see. I'll be the first!"
"That's quite a goal," the old woman laughed, "I wish you luck."
The girl stuck her tongue out, puffing up her cheeks, looking quite like a fish, "I don't need no luck! I'm the greatest ninja ever! It'll be a piece of cake!"
The old woman laughed a bit harder, and held the girl's hand, "I believe you. You'll be strong someday, Yuffie. I can see it in your eyes. You're going to help change the world."
----o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o----
Yuffie awakens to a blinding white light. It makes her eyes pound, and she lets out a moan as her retinas burn. She flops over on her side and moans a bit louder at the pain in her legs, which seem oddly stiff. She's also surprised to find that her right arm can move once again as she swipes it across her eyes.
A soft coo is heard as she shifts again, and finds herself face-to-face with Leviathan, whom is currently stealing what appears to be a bread roll off of a tray of food. He stares at her for a couple seconds, waiting to see if she'll yell, before quickly yanking his head back, roll held firmly in place in his beak.
She blinks slowly, absorbing her surroundings in a haze of confusion. The room is strangely bright, but she can tell that it's her own, in her dingy little house, because the spider-web cracks in the ceiling are a familiar pattern that she could never forget.
Another noise startles her, and as she shifts around, she realizes that Cloud is sitting in a chair by the bed, eyes slowly blinking open from what appears to be an uncomfortable nap. There are black bags under his eyes, but they seem to fade as—could that be relief?—some emotion floods his face.
"You're awake," he says, softly.
Yuffie lays there, uncomprehending for a moment, before muttering out a 'yeah.'
"You fell," he continues, seemingly uncomfortable with the thick silence that envelopes the room at Yuffie's lack of response, "Off of the postern. Everyone was worried…We searched for you, for days."
Something seems to flash in Yuffie's mind, and she explodes up from her bed, earning a startled wark from Leviathan and a jump from Cloud, "I fell!"
Cloud nods slowly, making it obvious that he had already said the phrase.
"A-And you," she points at his face wildly, "You weren't there! How?! When?!
Cloud tilts his head to the side, voice unsure, "You were gone for three days. Everyone looked for you but we couldn't find you. I happened to be near the postern when I heard screaming coming from below. It turned out to be that bird," he points at Leviathan, who has managed to stuff half the roll down his throat and is attempting to swallow.
Yuffie blinks, "How'd you, uh, get down, if I was all the way down at the bottom?"
Cloud, much to Yuffie's horror-yet-strange-elation, gives a half-smile, before saying, "I flew. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."
"…Thanks," Yuffie says, unsure how to act now. Half of her wants to be dazzled and start swooning at her 'knight in shining armor,' while the other half just wants to go to sleep and stop all of the out-of-characterness of the entire situation.
"Any time."
"And…what about Leviathan," Yuffie asks, pointing to the bird, who has polished off the roll and is now eyeing the small, burnt fish fillet on the plate set on her nightstand, "Why's he here? More importantly, can we keep him?! Please? Please? Please?!"
Cloud shakes his head in exasperation, "That damn bird," Leviathan squawks loudly and drops the fillet, "Wouldn't let go of you, and it can't fly away until its wing heals. Aerith fixed him up as best she could, and you, as well. Keep it if you want, just make sure it doesn't come near me."
Yuffie smirks as Leviathan makes a small lunge at Cloud, who quickly sidesteps out of the way and starts muttering to her about pesky birds.
It is one of the weirdest moments Yuffie has ever experienced; sitting in a bed with THE Cloud Strife practically making googly eyes at her while a giant heron-bird is attempting to hitch a ride on his back. Yuffie feels something growing in the pit of her stomach, something difficult to describe. Like a hardness and a softness, rolled together into a ball of warmth, is what her mind supplies. It feels right, no matter how girly or cliché it sounds.
Yuffie smiles.
Maybe she can't have wings, but perhaps knowing a person who does is the next best alternative.
Cloud is here to stay, and so is she.
----o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o----
Reaching up, arms spread to the sky; it's like flying.
Chained to the earth, those without wings have no hopes of escaping gravity.
But dreams, even if they end, are always there. They are the wings that symbolize freedom for those who have none.
----o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o---o.---.o----
(1) I think herons are rather fit for what I'm describing. They're considered highly intelligent and beautiful birds, and are wetland birds, so they have a connection to water. Leviathan is a water summon in the Final Fantasy series, and is actually worshipped as a god of the Wutai in FF7, the game Yuffie hails from.
(2) The old woman in this story is actually the old woman seen in KH1, when Sora sees a scene of Kairi sitting at an old woman's lap and listening to her story about the breaking of the world. But, that should have been obvious. I always wanted to think that Kairi was her granddaughter.
(3) I didn't expound upon this, but at some point after Cloud comes back, a couple of weeks at the most, Tifa shows up at Radiant Garden.
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Yay, done! This is a whopping seven thousand, six-hundred word, 18-page story. I'm dying.
This story is dedicated to always-kh, a wonderful and lovely reviewer to my story At a Walking Pace. She won a little mini-contest that I held a couple months back, and has patiently waited for this.
I'm so sorry for taking so long! I didn't mean to, but school is really a bitch. I've only now been able to pull myself together to get this little monster finished. This had several false starts, but I finally got it the way I wanted it to go, even if the ending is so extremely sappy I want to gag. But, hey, I'm really tired of sad stories. I haven't really been feeling all that great, so any little piece of happiness perks me up. I think that showed in this. Maybe.
I hope the length is acceptable! For having to wait so long, I can only hope that the size makes it up to you, always-kh. I also hope that the story didn't disappoint you. You gave me a bit of freedom, and I ran with it. I originally wanted this story to explore the aftermath of Cloud's disappearance. When I wasn't satisfied with the length, I added a few other plot elements that I had been saving for a different one-shot.
And, how many other people noticed that I've been playing FF7 Crisis Core? The phrase 'Wings symbolize freedom for those who have none,' is totally ripped off from that game. Great game, by the way. Cloud, you're such a cute loser! And Yuffie! She's so freakin' cute as a kid.
Thank you for reading this story! I really like how it turned out, even if it frustrated me greatly, switching between two styles constantly (I'm a bit of a bone-head, so if you see any places where I got tenses mixed up, sorry), and using a greatly simplified version of how I usually write. I hope it wasn't subpar…
Anyways, thanks for reading! Please drop a review and make me feel like it was worth it to write this monstrous piece of crap. The DayDreaming out!