renegade monkey
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Yuffie always was the best thing since sliced bread, every single itty bitty inch of her from dark black hair to hazel eyes to skimpy clothing that clung to every curve just like this, if you know what I mean. Yes, she was a girl danced the dance and pranced the prance and wore the pants (hellyeah she wore the pants, or at least she hoped she did) and listened to Avril Lavigne and made up her own crazy spazzy left-arm-goes-here right-arm-goes-there chair-falls-over Leon-gets-mad kinda dance moves and wore the most smexalicious outfits and could wield shuriken (freakin' shuriken, goddamnit). How many people can wield shuriken and still look totally awesome when fighting in a skirt. Anyone? Any offers?
But still this sheer abundance of untapped awesomeness that bubbled up inside the short'n'skinny almost-an-adult like water in a kettle (only wayyyy over boiling point because she was so hot she was smokin', in a completely crazycool 'burn baby burn' sort of way and not a 'oh shit! somebody call the fire brigade!' sort of way) didn't necessarily mean she was any good at playing dice games with pirates over a worm-eaten table in some seedy, godforsaken bar. The people of Port Royal would be ashamed to know of its existence and Yuffie was hardly surprised why considering the whole joint was comprised mainly of women in tight corsets with chests spilling out and over reams of cheap dirtywhite lace and violent drunken fistfights oftentimes involving chairs and broken beer bottles. It didn't take too much of her megawattbrainpower to figure that one, and let me tell you, she had lots of it.
Surprised? No, I didn't think you would be.
"You're not gonna win, love. Might as well give in now," the pirate facing her advised, sagely words of wisdom indeed. Pshaw. Life Yuffie was going to take advice from somebody who took fashion tips from Rikku. That hair was like the utter epitome of effemininty, and if such a word didn't exist it did now because she was awesome and could fuck about with the English language like that, renegade monkey that she was.
Wellllp, that's what her T-Shirt said, at any rate. And such cool, awesome, gorgeous girlie-monkeys who clearly don't respect 'authoritay' cannot be expected to sigh and shake heads and say it was a good game while it lasted, may the best man win.
No. She wasn't going to do that simply because it was never done. It was so un-Yuffie-like the thought didn't even begin to cross her mind because that was not her MO. That was nowhere even close to her MO, in a Radiant Garden to Midgar kind of close. As in not very close at all.
No, her MO was to pwn all at all, be it at dancing dances (Cloud still hated her over that 2 hour marathon DDR session and the constant to 'play another game or I'll tell Aerith about all the bad romance poetry I found under your bed') and prancing prances (Tifa could strut through streets all she liked but Yuffie strutted and skipped and swung her hips to boot) and wearing pants (Leon's black leather were very nice, but all the belts??? Please. He and that scary Lulu woman from the funny-smelling alchemy store had enough of the useless buckled strips of leather to start up their very own Klepto club specialising in the damned things).
And, if she didn't win, everybody knew what happened next. When it had been five-year-old Yuffie and eleven-year-old Leon arm wrestling back home and Leon had won because, derrr, that's the way the world goes, she had started to howl scream and bawl and shout and shriek her head off until the rules were bent and a lollipop was shoved her way to get her to shut up. Very little had changed since then; the rules were still there only to be bent and broken when the great ninja Yuffie.
Everybody knew (yes, everybody) that Yuffie Kiragisi was AWESOME (and damned annoyingstupidstubbonIFYOUSHUTTHEFUCKUPI'LLLETYOUWINYUFFIE). Period. Everyone. And pretty soon this stupid pirate poser Rikku-who-liked-to-steal-her-ice-creams-wannabe was going to learn that too, the hard way if need be.
"Oh, I will win even if I have to ram a shuriken halfway through your back and kick your sorry ass from here to Davy Jones Locker, and don't you dare laugh at me because I can," she reassured him in her cute little girlie (here Yuffie Kiragasi would like to tell that she's not a little girlie and if you dare say that the outcome will be similar to the one described above if you'd just care to scroll the way up to refresh your memory if have amnesia) way, slamming the dice back down onto the table with a clatter and a clink and a moan of 'fudge brownies, snake eyes'.
"Ha. I like your spunk, kid, real nice. Don't take it too hard when I beat y', savvy?"
"Savvy indeed. Oh we'll just see about this, Mr. Rawr-I-Have-Stupid-Hair-And-I-May-Or-May-Not-Steal-Your-Ice-Cream-Later-On," she growled under her breath.
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Yuffie growled as she threw down her dice in annoyance, brown eyes clouded with anger and arms folded across her chest; the dice stared back in annoyance, mocking her silently and didn't it know she was the Great Ninja Yuffie??? Damnit. She always won. She had to win.
"You're a funny girl indeed, miss. Don't take it too personally. Everybody loses against me," he grinned in a good natured way, pocketing his dice swiftly. "You know I'd like you to be payin' me now, if you don't mind. If I'm right you owe me quite a…"
"Oh shut up," growled Yuffie, anger and impulse and a dozen things besides stirring up in her crazymentaltechnicolour brain, moving across the table and pressing her lips against his because the Smex Goddess will obeyed goddamnit and I am Yuffie, hear me roar! Victory cry. Always a victory cry.
She would always win in one way or another, but then again it was hardly to be expected otherwise.
She was simply just that awesome.
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a/n: arrr. crappy cruddy cracky yuffie/jack for zanisha's renegade monkey contest :3 avast xP