Okay, standard disclaimer. I DO NOT own Kuja, no matter how much I really wish I did. Squaresoft owns him…mutters (lucky bastards)…Anyway! Mira is MINE! She belongs to only me (well of course…she's one of the nice people in my head…she even helped write the story!) I hope you like it. If you have any problems with Kuja being nice in any way…get a life! If you don't wanna think of him with anyone but you…well, sorry, write your own fic. Enjoy the story! I'll continue writing it as long as my creative spurt continues!
Whatever happened to Kuja?…
This had been one of Garnet's questions late one night.
Zidane had turned to her and said, he didn't know. "He was gone when I first came to, after the vines attacked us. I can only guess he died."
But what if he didn't?
There was fire, but strangely no screams. Then the grasping flames turned to strangling vines. They covered him, cutting off his air. No matter how he fought, he couldn't fight them off. He was sure he would die soon of suffocation.
Kuja sat bolt upright. There were no flames, but there was a definite tightness in his chest. He lay back down on the bed and surveyed his strange surroundings. Sunlight came through a window on the wall opposite the one his bed was against. He himself was covered in a light blanket, not much on underneath, but he hardly paid attention to that at the moment. The room was small, made out of wood. There was a single dresser under the window, a vase and a pad of paper resting on top of it. There was a small rug on the floor, varying in shades of purple and red. A noise from somewhere outside the room he was in alerted him that he wasn't alone.
This was, of course, confirmed when a young woman walked in the room. She seemed angelic, confirming his belief that he was indeed quite dead. She had pale, flawless skin. Her long strawberry blond hair was tied back in a braid down to her waist, a silver streak running from her left temple. She was tall, or she seemed to be from his perspective in the bed. Her eyes were the most startling. They were a deep purple-blue, unlike anything he'd ever seen. She wore a simple dress of a lighter blue than her eyes that came down to her ankles. She smiled when she saw he was awake and came over to the bed.
"Where am I?" His voice came out only as a whisper, the tightness in his chest increasing painfully.
"Just hold on a minute. I'll answer all your questions when I'm finished. You're having chest pains again?" He nodded silently. She seemed unsurprised and placed her hands on his chest, over the breastbone. Her hands were soft and cool to the touch. A white-blue light formed around them, and the pain in his chest eased. When his breathing was normal, the glow receded and she leaned back, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Again, where am I?" His voice sounded far more normal to him now.
"Well, it looks like you're really cognizant now, so I guess I can tell you. You're in my home, not too far from that big ugly tree. I found you three weeks ago, not far from here. I initially took you for dead, but when I found you weren't, I brought you here. You've been very sick, but I think you'll pull through." She smiled down at him, waiting for any other questions.
"How could I possibly be alive? Could Garland have been lying to me?" But Kuja had been sure he was dying, and Garland had had no reason to lie to him.
"Well, I don't know who Garland is, or was, but you were definitely dying. I nearly killed myself that first night just keeping your heart beating." He looked up at her sharply. She squirmed a little uncomfortably. No one ever took her explanations well. "Well, you see, I can manipulate my life force. And other peoples. I just transferred mine to you." She paused, considering, "Though, come to think of it, your body really did seem to be trying to kill itself. It's been continuing to fight me the whole time, but it seems to try less and less each time. I think it's decided that I'm not giving up, you're gonna live."
Kuja was fairly dumbfounded. This girl had inadvertently found a way around Garland's limit on his life. He could, conceivably, live a long, normal life. The prospect seemed staggering. True, he had done some terrible things, but Zidane said himself that he'd helped save those others. Maybe he could find a place for himself, hopefully where no one would know him, and perhaps start a new life. A new long life. First, however, he had to recover fully.
Kuja raised himself into a sitting position; it took a surprising amount of effort. "What is your name?"
"I'm Miraina. You could just call me Mira, if you want." She looked down at her hands. "You said, during one of your more lucid moments, that your name is Kuja. Is that true?" She looked back up at him, but there wasn't any anger in her eyes, just curiosity.
Kuja nodded. "Yes, that's my name. Have you heard of me?" He dreaded the answer, and what it could mean for his future. Thoughts of Alexandria's prison, or getting sick and dying since he obviously wasn't well yet crossed his mind.
"I have heard of you, and all the things they say you did." Kuja looked away from her, fearing the worst. He turned back when he felt her hand over his. "Do you regret any of it?"
"Well, yes. Not until after I was beaten, but I didn't quite understand a few things before that."
"Then, that's good enough for me." She smiled happily and got up. "Are you hungry? I have some stew cooking, and you haven't been eating much." Kuja's stomach answered her question for him and she giggled as she left the room.
Mira didn't take long, and came in with a tray in her hands. It had on it a glass of water, a bowl of steaming stew, and a sliced up apple. Kuja hardly cared about his manners he felt so hungry. Everything soon disappeared and he handed his bowl to Mira for more. She didn't say anything, just left to get it. She came back as quickly as she had left and handed over the once again full bowl.
Kuja took his time a bit more on this bowl. "How long have you lived here?"
Mira pulled a chair out from the corner (he hadn't noticed it) and sat down. "I've lived in this house for the last five months, about. Before that, I'm not sure. The old man who lived here said he found me one day, with a terrible gash on my head. He took care of me until he died about a month before I found you. Anything before that, I can't remember for the life of me. Every time I try, I get the most awful headaches, and once he said I blew a rock into dust, and from then on, I try not to think about my past."
"I'm sorry you don't remember. I really hope it isn't my fault that you were injured in the first place." He had by that time finished with the stew. Mira got up to take the tray from him. "Thank you, for the food and for your hospitality." How strange it felt to say those things! But around Mira, it seemed like it was second nature. He really was thankful for all she'd done so far, but even when he'd been thankful in the past, he'd rarely expressed it.
"Your welcome! I'm glad you seemed to like the food so much, and I was glad I could help someone. Makes me feel a little less useless…and less secluded and solitary." She left the room and when she came back in, Kuja had fallen asleep, exhausted just from eating. She went in as quietly as possible and rearranged him so he wouldn't be sore when he awoke.
Kuja was out of bed for the first time. It had been a week now since he had woken up in Mira's spare bedroom. He'd had attacks like on that first day everyday, but Mira continually made it better, and the attacks did seem to be getting less severe. Mira was currently outside in her little garden. Kuja had decided now was as good as ever to test his returning strength. He had put on a pair of simple pants that Mira had bought for him the last time she went to Conde Petie (which happened to be the closest semblance of a town).
The house itself was well built. There was another room, which belonged to Mira, a kitchen that served as a dining room as well, and another room that served as a living room. There was the usual assortment of furniture, as well as a few vases and pictures along the walls. All the pictures were very good, and he wondered briefly who had done them. He lost interest as he came in sight of one of the windows. It looked out on the garden, and he could see Mira outside working.
She was a wonderful woman really. She was polite, and a good cook. She was almost always smiling, and sometimes he could hear her humming to herself. As he stood starring at her, he noticed again how lovely she was. She was also incredibly graceful; she never seemed to stumble or falter when she walked. He was still starring at her when she turned and saw him through the window. She waved to him, and he found himself waving back.
'What in the world is wrong with me? All I seem to think of is her! Maybe because she's the only person I've been around? But that makes no sense. When I kidnapped Lady Hilda I never had this problem with her. But what else could it be?'
The subject of his musings came in the door at that moment. After putting some of her pickings in the kitchen, she came over to where he stood looking at one of the paintings on the wall. It was a picture of a sunset, with mountains in the background. She stood next to him and looked at the painting as well. While she stood there, he could just make out the perfume she wore, something light and flowery.
"So, I see you felt like getting up. How do you like the house?" She turned to him, the light catching her eyes and making them seem like a reflective blue.
"It's nice. Very cozy really. These paintings are very good, who did them?" He turned back to the painting to avoid looking at her.
"This one was done by Mr. Linsworth. A couple of them were done by me. There isn't enough money in the house to buy anything professional." She looked at the painting with fondness. Mr. Linsworth, the old man who had taken care of her, had a place in her heart always, but she felt no overt amount of grief at his passing. When Kuja had questioned her about that once, she had simple said that he was very old and it was his time to die.
"These are really very well done. You could consider selling them, and get quite a bit more money." He continued to gaze at the painting, noticing the layering of colors.
"No, I don't think I'd do that. I'm happy just putting them up in the house. But thank you for the suggestion. It really-" At that moment, Kuja doubled over in pain. His lungs seized and his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. As his vision clouded over, he was sure he was going to die now, and that the last while had only been borrowed time. Then everything faded to black.
He came to with Mira kneeling over him. She looked very concerned and was white as a sheet. He tried to sit up and found it wasn't as hard as he thought it might be. He noticed her breathing seemed a bit labored and now it was his turn to be concerned.
"Are you alright?" He reached over and tilted her head up to get a better look at her face. Her lips were faintly blue around the edges.
"Yes, I'm alright. I thought I was going to lose you there." She suddenly smiled. "I think I felt something happen, it was like something just snapped! I think that was one last ditch effort and you won't have any more attacks! Isn't that wonderful?" She suddenly leaned over and embraced him. He froze for a moment and then hugged her back.
'Free! A long life like anyone else! What more could I really need…' Mira pulled away, blushing. She seemed to have just now realized he wasn't wearing anything but pants. She stood up quickly, and nearly fell over. Kuja got up and caught her, making sure she had regained her balance before he relinquished his hold, though he regretted it. She stepped back from him, still blushing.
"Now all we need to do is get your health back up to a normal person's, and you'll be all set." She went off to the kitchen and busied herself with putting the vegetables away. Kuja watched her for a few more minutes before going back to his room. He was tired, and it was a while before dinner. He could use some rest.
Two weeks later, Kuja was out helping in the garden. He'd never been one for manual labor, but working in such a small garden didn't bother him that much. He also came to enjoy thinking that he had done something and gotten something out of it with his own hands. He hadn't ordered someone else to do it, and he wasn't destroying anything. Mira was just a bit away from him, pulling some carrots out of the garden, occasionally pulling out an oglop and scolding it. He had gotten used to how she behaved, and had taken it pretty well when she told him she could talk to anything. He was learning something new about her everyday, and the more he learned, the more he wanted to stay and learn more. These emotions were new to him, he'd never been attached to anyone on Terra, and certainly no one here on Gaia. Something about her though, just drew his attention and kept it riveted on her.
"Hey daydreamer!" Mira called over to him. He'd been kneeling over the onions for a little bit and blushed when she caught him in his musings. "I'll be back in a minute! This little fellow here says that he would be happy to leave, if I could unblock a hole for him. I'll go do that, and then we can go in and have a cup of tea. Sound good to you?"
"Sounds great. Make sure he doesn't keep you too long." He turned back to what he was doing as she climbed over the small fence and disappeared around the corner. 'I really should be more careful around her. That's the second time she's caught me, and it's irksome that she can do that.' Kuja stood and stretched. The last two weeks had been the best he'd ever had. There had been no fighting, no sinister planning, no overwhelming anger. It was just nice and peaceful.
He was bending over to pick up the bucket holding the onions and tomatoes he'd picked when he heard a scream. It was Mira's voice and he dropped the bucket and ran in the direction it had come from. He'd never felt a fear like this; it gripped his insides and made him think terrible things. As he rounded the corner, he saw Mira was being held by the forepaw of a grand dragon. It was licking it's chops, obviously intending to eat her, even as she tried to persuade it not to. Obviously, her skills of persuasion weren't working too well on it.
Kuja got angry, real angry. He still had all his magic, and he let loose now with a thundaga spell. It hit the dragon in the abdomen, and it took off, still holding Mira. He tried again, this time using flare. The dragon roared in agony and dropped Mira, from really high up. Kuja ran forward until he was under her and cast a float spell on her. She glided down gently and he grabbed her when she was close enough. He held her protectively as he watched the dragon fly away, its flight a bit erratic.
"Thank you Kuja. He was really insane, and didn't hardly understand me and -" Her words were cut off by Kuja's mouth covering hers. He put everything he'd been feeling since he'd woken up into it; all the confusion, happiness, and fear at losing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him as close as she possible could.
When they pulled apart, they were both shaking and fairly out of breath. It had been getting late when she'd gone off to help the oglop and the sun was beginning to set. They turned back toward the house, walking slowly and saying nothing. They got the spilled vegetables from the garden and went back into their home.