a tale by
. . Morning Zephyr . .
u n s t r u n g   m e l o d y

Hands of delicate silk gingerly enclosed around the marvelously carved masterpiece of brass.  In her mind she contemplated whether intrusion upon such a sacred place should be permissible, even if she was the reigning lady of her land. 

Her people would never gain knowledge about the entrance, and if they did, she was certain they would understand her need of escape as transient as it may be.  Even if they did not approve or think highly of her decision on breaking the young tradition, they would still allow it for they respected her just as much as they did Hoshiko Kisaragi.

How can they ever compare me to her, she wondered.  Many times, when the gray skies turned midnight blue, she would lay undisturbed by the sleep fairy and desperately try to find a quality she shared with her mother.  The latter was beautiful and charming; admired by whoever set eyes upon her.  Yuffie was, well, everything opposite. 

Or so she thought.

Eyelids fluttered very tenderly and slowly covered chocolate-glazed orbs.  As she breathed, a picture of her cherished mother discreetly crept into her mind and refused to leave.  Or perhaps she just didn't want it to fade away.  Raven ringlets framed an ethereal curving of lips and harmless mischievousness danced among the unique tint of lavender.

Her father had always said she inherited her mother's pristine, cottonwhite skin, and maybe others claiming to see a purplish touch to her own coffee-colored eyes had more of an explanation than just a play on light.

Unconscientiously biting her lower lip out of habit, she gave the intricately designed mahogany doors a push.  Upon opening her eyes, she revealed to herself a ball room so grand that being void of luxurious embellishment had not stripped it of its majesty. 

She stepped forward and made an indentation on the unscathed, yet dusty marble floor.  The collecting layer of minute particles was hardly startling.  Her father had prohibited entrance eight years ago and made certain ones who broke that rule received severe punishment in return for disobedience.

But Godo wasn't around to reprimand her anymore.  She almost wistfully longed to hear her father's castigating voice ring in her ears one more time, and after he finished his scolding, she would do something she had never done before – run into his arms and weep.  He would probably be much too taken by surprise to protest, but perhaps he would embrace her with the affection that always remained hidden.

He never gazed at her with paternal care evident in his eyes nor did he ever compliment her accomplishments, but Yuffie knew he had, or at one point did, love her. 

Yes, he had harshly berated her more times than could be counted, and she always threw a fit after their arguments or left Wutai immediately.  As she matured and grew up, though, she realized that she did not get angry because her father chastised her.  It was because she knew Godo's reprimands stood reasonable and correct.

Yes, he even threatened to disown her when she publicly revealed her fiancée to the citizens of Wutai.

She could still vividly remember the lines of age on Godo's forehead developing slightly deeper when he caught sight of the phrase "Elegant princess chooses Ex-Turk" etched boldly across the front page of "The Wutai Appeal."  He had stared at the headline for a moment longer before slowly lowering the newspaper to glare murderously at Yuffie sitting nonchalantly on the other side of the breakfast table.  This was when Godo announced that he would even deny the existence of his only daughter to make certain the Kisaragi bloodline remained pure and unsoiled.

Of course, he never implemented his threat, which had resulted from the abrupt, unwelcoming news.  Yet he never approved of Yuffie's choice nor will he ever.

She brought the back of her hand up and brushed her eyelid softly, pushing back the urge to cascade tears.

Glancing around, she smiled a nostalgic smile lacking any trace of happiness.  Her eyes wandered over to the corner of the room where a solitary adornment sat sheltered by coverings and untouched by the fingers of dust.

She recognized it as her mother's favorite – a lustrous black piano.

Slowly, she walked over to it.  Long, slender fingers laid on the edge of the white fabric only to lift it off and disclose the precious treasure it had been hiding.

Yuffie stood motionless with almond eyes tracing an outline of the instrument.  Finally, she pulled the matching mahogany bench out from underneath the piano and placed herself upon it as she had done long ago.  She ran her fingers over the smooth lid encasing the eighty-eight black and white keys that produced so many pieces of beautiful music in the past under the enchantment of her beloved mother.

Her heartbeat quickened nervously as she slid the top into its resting place.  If I can play this right, that means Mother and I do have a similarity, thought Yuffie. 

To her dismay though, the doubt of remembering how to play the grand instrument visited with a memory about a comparable uncertainty from childhood.  Only this time, Yuffie was sure no one was going to comfort and assure her of her abilities.

To her, it seemed like forever since they started practicing.  She was halfway through the piece when her little fingers mistook the middle C for a D.  "Mommy, I can't do this.  I just can't."  An exasperated ten-year-old jumped off the bench and stomped her feet on the floor.

A woman who was keenly observing the little girl's progress took her by the hand and led her over to the recliner.  She placed the girl on her knees and asked, "Yuffie, do you want to get it?"

She rested her lithe fingers on the opening keys and pulled pale-peach over chocolate.  Her only inspiration was a few fluffs of memories, but that was enough.  Oh gawd, I'm not going to remember this, she thought.

Yuffie looked into her mother's eyes and replied with as much honesty a child her age could muster.  "I want to so very badly, but I can't."

"Honey, remember that as long as you're willing, as long as you want to, you can achieve anything."

She didn't think she would be able recall the notes, but her fingers started playing, gliding over each key mellifluously.  The dead room suddenly filled with glorious music and became alive.  The movement of her hand no longer belonged to her as she hit each note of her mother's self-composed song with precision.

Suddenly, little Yuffie began to cry and brought her hands up to wipe the fast-falling crystal droplets.  Incoherently she muttered, "M-mommy, you're mad at me, a-aren't you?"

Hoshiko brushed runaway tears with the gentleness only a mother possessed and smiled slightly at her daughter's innocence.  "Of course not.  Why would Mommy be mad?"

"B-because I messed u-up before."  She wrapped her arms around her mother and cried against her shirt.

She approached the measure where she had continuously played incorrectly during her adolescence.  This time, though, she performed it with more meticulousness than ever before.  She knew if her mother was beside her, she would be smiling at her proudly.

She embraced Yuffie.  "No one is perfect.  Mommy understands.  Don't cry.  How about we pick up again tomorrow?  You can go play in the gardens for the rest of the day."

She stifled the last of her sobs after hearing her mother's consolation.  "Thanks, Mommy."  She stretched and kissed Hoshiko's naturally-blushed cheeks before bouncing off her knee and skipping happily out the door.

Alas, as the memory ended, so did the magic in her hands.  She found herself unable to continue the song. 

Eyes still closed, she furrowed her brows and bit her lower lip in concentration.  Randomly, Yuffie played a few keys, hoping to be reminded by the right note.  It didn't work.

Frustrated that a similar problem hindered her from completing the song, she balled her fists and slammed the piano keys.  A mass of different notes creating nothing but a disturbance reverberated through the empty ballroom and down the corridor.

This time, tears flowed and she didn't bother.  Droplet by droplet ventured down her pristine face and splashed onto the surface of the keys.

"And to think I was close to finding something that reminded me of my mother.  Pure shit," said Yuffie softly.  She opened her eyes and looked down at the blacks and whites in disappointment.

The more she thought about it, the more she cried and became too preoccupied to notice someone enter the room.  The person's presence wasn't discerned by her until he sat down next to her on the bench.

He enclosed an arm around her petite waist and pulled her closer to him.  He brushed strands of hair aside and placed a light yet tender kiss on her forehead.  

"Yuffie, don't cry."

The loving in his voice made her break down even more.  He usually called her by nicknames, but she loved it best when he used her name.  Somehow, he could make a name as plain as hers sound utterly unique.

"R-Reno, I'm a disappointment, a-aren't I?"

He looked down at her and smiled.  "Nah.  You're just . . . Yuffie."

His answer made the corner of her lips curve upward slightly.  She managed to bring her sobs under control enough to talk comprehensibly and repositioned her head on his strong yet gaunt shoulder.  "I'm a disgrace.  I can't even play my mother's masterpiece."

Reno brushed her lingering tears away softly with his fingertips.  His gentleness was different than her mother's, but she liked it just the same.

"You mean this piece?" asked Reno as he handed the papers to Yuffie who hadn't detected them before.

She took them into her own hands and looked them over.  It was the original copy of her mother's work, the very one Yuffie tried to play just minutes before.

"How'd you find this?"  Yuffie asked, now glancing and absorbing each note and rest.

"It was on the floor by the piano covers.  I saw them when I was walking in and picked them up."

 As Yuffie had lifted the white blanket, she unknowingly swept the piece of music along with the fabric onto the hardwood floor.

"So is this what you were playing before?" inquired Reno again.

Ashamed, Yuffie looked away and replied almost inaudibly, "Yes."

Reno grinned.  He was hoping this was the piece she was frustrated over.  "Yuffie, look at me."

She didn't obey, leaving him with no choice but to convince her nonverbally.  He placed a hand under his sweetheart's chin and turned her towards him.  He cupped her face and stroked her rose-pink cheeks with his thumbs.  "You didn't finish playing it before, did you?"

"Reno, I don't wanna talk about it."

"No.  You need to.  I want you to be able to confide in me.  I promise I can make everything better."

She just nodded in response.  Somehow, Yuffie couldn't help but believe in his words.  Those same lips once spoke of things that shattered her heart, yet it was the same ones that pieced it back together.

His smirk grew even wider, baffling the woman in front of him.  "Sugar, look."  He picked up the last sheet and presented it to her. 

Yuffie stared at the last few measures.  They remained blank, untouched.  No rests, no notes, nothing.  Just staffs.

"The only reason you didn't know how to continue was because your mother never taught it to you nor did she finish composing it," comforted Reno.

But her mind no longer reflected the music, her father, or even her mother.  Instead, she wondered about how amazing Reno was.  Just when Yuffie thought she understood him even to the most unfathomable crevice in his personality, he would prove her wrong just as he did today.

And during the darkest time of her life, when she felt more unsure and incompetent than ever, a starry light appeared and grew brighter.  Actually, it had always been there.  Yuffie was just blinded by the darkness and failed to realize it.  But the speckle fought and lighted the core of her heart. 

Suddenly, it dawned on her. 

The light was Reno.

.fin.

Author's Notes
Another utterly sappy Reno/Yuffie ending by yours truly.  If any of you found the beginning good, I'm sure you were all bombarded by disappointment at the end.  Ah well, you can't blame me, really.  I was inspired, yet it is now 6:22 in the morning and I haven't slept at all.  Yes, I could have ignored my shrieking muse and gone to sleep.  But who knows when it will strike again.  I shall rewrite the end when a better one comes to mind.  As for the grammar errors, I'm sure you'll find plenty.  You'll have to excuse them, though.  I promise I'll revise it soon.  Also, a thank you to Ashley for elaborating a bit on the piano for me.

© Jennifer, Aug. 18, 02