Hiya!! This is my *first* Final Fantasy IX fic. Thanks to one of my brothers, who is a freak with Final Fantasy Games, I developed a bond with this game (the best RPG ever!). But my favorite character *has* to be Vivi. Oh! I don't know why, but the first sight of him, with that glowing golden eyes and his innocence . . . I just want to squeeze him! I literally wailed at his scene with the Black Waltz No.3 on the airship, and his first time in the Black Mage Village. *weeps* Poor guy!

Anyway, when I watched the scene as Zidane talked with Dagger about home, and Vivi was sitting there during the night . . . *sniffles* Was he sooooo *cute*?! Sorry, but I always have a soft spot for people who suffer. I just had a sudden urge to write about Vivi's thoughts during that time. So . . . I hope you like it!

Tears of His Heart

By Debbie (Dai-chan)

"Sorrow . . . How do you prove that you exist . . . ? Maybe we don't exist . . ." - Vivi Orunita

Moonlight was his only light during the night as he silently strolled across a wooden bridge. There were few stars speckling the midnight-blue sky. He halted in his tracks and gazed upward. Oddly, he never really thought about how beautiful the night sky was. He always slept through the night, too weary even to think. But this time, he was awake, and the sight of the night sky, lightened by the vast lavender moon hovering above, somehow touched his heart.

Vivi Orunita slowly observed his surroundings. He enjoyed the colorful night blossoms that bedecked the fences and dwellings lining among the silent stream. That was the first time he ever cherished the sight of flowers. Sure, back in Lindblum, Pinnacle Rocks, even the fallen Cleyra, there were shrubs and blossoming vines that he did revere, but none like these magnificent blooms. He guessed that was because they were grown by his kin.

His kin. For a long time, almost his entire life, he thought he was all alone. He guessed he was a Black Mage; that was what his 'Grandpa Guan' called him. Everyone else he met saw him as a Black Mage, and so he just believed them that he was a Black Mage. But he never saw any Black Mage like himself, except . . . that encounter at the Village of Dali.

Vivi seated down, dangling his short legs over the edge of the trestle. The encounter disturbed him deeply. He just found that the Black Mages weren't born like the other races, but were made. They were made with Mist, the mysterious fog that spawned monsters and beasts. A bitter shiver just crept up his back, shuddering through his body. Would it mean that he was also made, not born? It was not right to him!

He did remember growing up, aging. He could remember being so young, having memories through the years he had. When he spoke with the strange Black Mages that looked slightly different from his appearance, they said that they became aware at a certain time and remembered what happened. They said that they were frightened, found that they shed blood - Vivi shuddered at the sound of it - on their hands, so terrified that they ran away from the battle scenes out of trepidation.

It was kind of surprising to him, though, when one Black Mage panicked at the sight of him, a small boy running up to him, and the other one calmed him down by saying that he - he! - was aware. Vivi bent over to see his reflection on the stream from the bridge. He saw two golden eyes glowing gently from within a face of darkness.

What did that Black Mage mean by aware? He was aware all his life. No matter when he looked at his reflection on a mirror or a water surface, he could see only his eyes staring back with childish curiosity. He was only a youngster, then. But he changed when he conflicted with the Black Waltz No.3. That slanted golden eyes weren't glowing with curiosity as he thought so. It was glowing with . . . evilness. Evilness so vicious and merciless that he was speechless at such power. It frightened him that it changed him. It told himself that not everyone was a child and innocent just like him.

What about the other Mages? When he saw the Mages battling, he couldn't help but stare in their glowing eyes. They appeared aware, but he could see that they were aware in a way. They weren't aware like him, not aware of everything. He was aware of everything he saw, felt, and touched. They were aware of one thing only, aware of one desire - to kill. He could see the glow in the golden eyes, but they were empty, like puppets whose limbs and actions were commanded by a puppeteer. A puppeteer who had wild greed and overwhelming lust of unlimited power.

Vivi sighed softly, the sound almost swiftly faded by the summer breeze that stirred his trademark leather hat with the flopped over tip. He knew he shouldn't worry too much, shouldn't think too much. One of his companions, Zidane, suggested to him that. But it was so hard. Vivi never thought just like that before. His usual optimistic and passive life instantly shifted into a reality that he never knew, a reality of menace and heartache. Everything changed too fast for him to get prepared.

A thought suddenly appeared in his mind on its account. What was home, by the way? The golden circles of his eyes swept over the village that he recently dwelt in. He wondered what home meant to him. He was puzzled because he felt nostalgic whenever he looked upon Quina, one of the Qu, because s/he had a few similarities to his Grandpa Quan. He missed him greatly ever since he passed away.

Then . . . he no longer felt lonely when he developed a fairly intimate friendship with the amiable thief, Zidane, humane Princess Garnet or Dagger, the stern but true Captain Steiner, loyal Freya, and even the queer Quina in times of peril and combat. Would this be home? Perhaps home wasn't some hamlet with humble houses, pretty flowers, or that peaceful stream that glided beneath his feet. Perhaps home was . . . a steadfast union between hearts that you could entrust without any doubt.

Vivi again beheld his reflection on the calm surface. What or where could he call home? He just found that he had a long way to find it. But perhaps, it wasn't too far on his path of destiny. As he watched, the anguish that radiated from his eyes slowly evaporated, relieved with a longing to being seen as an individual, not as one of those senseless Black Mages that were made. He had a strong yearning for compassion. Sure, he did care for his friends, but sometimes, it wasn't enough. Almost every night, he wished that he was being loved, just for being who he was now, not just a Black Mage.

The placid surface of the stream was suddenly disturbed by a ripple appearing in the center, as if it was upset by a single raindrop . . . or a teardrop . . .

Never the end! *^_^*

*weeps* I WANNA HUG VIVI!! So kawaii . . . *sniffles* Honestly, I don't think I will have enough of him . . . *^_^*

By the way, how can you pronounce his name? Vee-Vee or Vi -Vi? I'm not that good at pronouncing people's names . . . *crawls back under her rock, ashamed*