Stray Cats

By Vanillabeancobain

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus and Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children and their characters are the property of Square Enix. I gain nothing financially from any works of fiction based on these games, films or characters.

He had been with this group less than a week now. He maintained his cool detatchment from the group rather successfully, for the most part. Thankfully, they all had their own agenda outside of fighting and their mission and kept to themselves. They had been travelling together for much longer than they had been with him and conversed with each other, focused on their crushes, their dreams and the people they missed back at home or how to accomplish their mission.

There was a girl in the group who had been there only slightly longer than he had. He found her something of an enigma.

She reminded him of a stray cat; the way she would switch between being annoyingly playful to an indignant rage, her back in an arc. He could almost imagine her hair standing up on end, or the twitch of a tail.

When she received attention, she was arrogant, stand-offish and would walk away to perch in the higher branches of a tree to train or to meditate. When she wanted attention, it was always the worst possible moment to bother others and she would mimic or ruffle up her teammates until they snapped at her, and then walk away, hurt, and leave them feeling very guilty and then the cycle would start again.

She was surprisingly agile and graceful for a girl so slight and scruffy, yet she would be so ridiculously embarrassed of any moments of clumsiness that the others witnessed that she would skulk off and sulk and snap at anyone who came near, spitting childish insults and demeaning nicknames at anyone who came close.

She carried herself like royalty, yet she refused to bathe in any of the creeks, rivers or other bodies of water they encountered until Barrett got sick of the grime all over her (Secretly, he worried after her because she reminded him of his daughter in some way) and tossed her in the river they were all taking turns to bathe in. She didn't talk to anyone in the group for the rest of the day. She also stole each of their shoes and threw them in the river.

But if you sat still and were quiet, she would approach gently. Comforted in the presence of the calmness. She never ate in front of any of her other comrades, but would rather steal the leftover food from their campsite whilst everyone else was asleep. He suspected Aerith knew too but was not going to say anything, just relieved that this tiny girl was eating something.

He noticed that she had an especially soft spot for sweets and, at the next town they stopped through, bought some chocolate. The rich, creamy kind that would satisfy even the most discerning of connosieurs. When she came out that evening, rummaging through the packs for what was left of their meal, she sat down beside him and began to eat greedily. He slowly reached into the pocket in the lining of his cape and pulled out the bar of chocolate, its wrapper gleaming in front of the fire. Her eyes lit up, but she said nothing and made no attempt to reach for it when he offered.

He left her a few pieces when he got up to go to his tent. Just before he got into his sleeping bag, he heard a rustling noise as she leaves beneath her feet were disturbed. He looked out to her with self satisfaction, but she and the chocolate were long gone.

Two nights later, she took the chocolate from his hand. She was only quiet in front of the fires at night time. He knew she was suffering from nightmares like most of the group, including himself. He knew that she appreciated the quiet from his end, that she didn't quite trust the others yet and, despite her constant chatter which she used to rile up those around her, she had never actually spoken about herself and would abruptly change the subject when asked about herself. He looked at her, eyes a little softer than normal, and nodded at her. She bristled at his gesture, got up and sprinted off, taking the chocolate and a cob of corn with her as she swung herself into an impossibly high tree top.

Three nights after that, she came out of her tent crying. She must have had some kind of nightmare, by the look of things. Her eyes will still slow and glassy with sleep, her hair in soft tangles. She shivered as she walked outside and sat down beside the fire next to him. She took the chocolate he offered her, then turned to him. Eyes searching his for pity, sympathy, something. Anything. She glared in frustration at the lack of expression on his face, then a small grin graced her features. She was relieved that he didn't ask any questions, didn't try to console her or coddle her like a child.

Aerith came out, rubbing her eyes and watched them both. When she asked Yuffie if she was alright, the small girl hissed at her to mind her own business and leapt away into the scrub near their campsite, not wishing to be seen in that state. She didn't come back to the fire after that.

The next morning, she woke up as though nothing had happened. She ate her meals with the others (though he noticed she still would stash a lot in her pockets or her pack for later) and conversed with the other girls, smiled when the others smiled and practiced training with them. Aerith hadn't spilt the beans to anyone, this was all she needed to trust the others. Or maybe it was her sense of pride trying to prove to the other girl that she was fine and didn't need any extra attention. She still wouldn't talk about herself, though.

He felt a strange sense of loneliness after that, but pushed it aside.

A week passed, then the inevitable happened- he transformed. The pain, the sheer humiliation of losing control in front of his teammates. He could still see what was happening as this creature possessed his body, still feel bones snap under his teeth and taste the metallic taste of blood. Galian played with the bodies after they had died, dragging them around and tossing them like ragdolls, making the limbs twitch and then leaping on them and tackling them to the ground. He felt sick, he was screaming inside to return to control. Finally, he knew his wish was granted when he could feel himself starting to pass out. The last thing he saw before it all went black was the blur of faces of his teammates. She was the only one who stood tall.

The rest of the group was all of a sudden a little awkward around him. Looks of sympathy and, as expected, fear were thrown his way and suddenly everyone was a little more busy and gave him a little more space. He hated this more than anything and decided to only leave his tent for battle or in the nighttime when everyone else was asleep. It was better this way anyway; he knew too well what happened when one grew too attached.

That night, she came out by the fire and sat next to him. He looked at her in surprise until she smirked. "What, no chocolate today?" she demanded, grinning a little at his confused face. He shook his head and she got up and turned away as if to walk back to her tent. She walked a few steps, then sat back down, laughing that she had fooled him into thinking she was really going to leave. They sat in the silence for a while, looking at the fire.

"Could you still, y'know, tell what was happening when you went all Wolf-man on us the other day?"

"…yes." He responded. Slowly, cautiously, ashamedly. This was the first time she'd asked him anything about himself. It was also the first time in a while that he hadn't deflected personal questions.

She looked at his face thoughtfully. There was no pity in her eyes, just curiosity. Acceptance. Finally, she spoke again, a smile gracing her features. "I think it's kinda cool…" she flushed slightly, then became very interested in her feet for a moment before adding "…besides, my dad is much scarier when he's mad."

'typical teenager,' he thought to himself. She had already walked off into her tent, gripped with embarrassment at her blushing a moment earlier.

She reminded him of a stray cat.; arrogant, independent but also endearing in her cautious kind of kindness. He knew she'd probably never speak to him again if he told her, but he thought it was extremely cute. After that night, he started eating with the others too, much to everyone's surprise but Yuffie's, who merely smirked as she slurped loudly on her canteen.

He was like a stray cat, she decided.

She had been with the group for a while but, after travelling alone for a couple of years, she had found their constant gossip and imposition on eachother's space suffocating. The two other girls went between being the best of friends and laughing, joking, gossiping together and dancing around the jealousy they both felt over their blonde-haired leader's affection. The two other men went between doggedly discussing their mission and struggling for dominance over the group. The weird cat/dog/thing annoyed her to no end due to his need to clean himself in public (she didn't care what species he was. Licking your own balls in public would only ever be gross in her eyes) and the esoteric nonsense that left his mouth every time she attempted to converse with him. Not everything had to be deep and philosophical. This new man was an enigma.

The way he would put up with a certain amount of conversation with the others before he would get tired of their questions, their jokes, their poorly organized plans, before he would turn tail and walk away.

The way he started hunting whilst the others were preoccupied, dumping the cleaned carcass by the fire and then walking off and leaving the others to cook it, obviously a little disgusted that such a skilled group of fighters were so poor at hunting. He cooked his own meals in his own calm, quiet manner when they weren't around to bother him with questions. It was his own strange way of caring about the motley crew he was now a part of, trying to ward off their imminent starvation due to their lack of foresight. Their footsteps were too damn loud anyway, she thought.

The way he was oddly pedantic about his cleanliness and would clean his hands, his gun, his pack and his clothing meticulously. It would be almost annoying to her except that, funnily, his hair would almost instantly turn into a mess of tangles and his clothing was so worn that it was impossible to tell that he was always so careful about removing blood, dirt and grime from them. Only his boots and his gauntlets ever kept their gleam to them after more than an hour.

The way he was suspicious of any kind of affection or kindness from the group and would look annoyed, glaring at them until they no longer tried to befriend him. She was the only person who noticed the longing on his face when he sat as an outsider, watching all of them conversing, not yet tainted by the hard knocks he had obviously endured, and not knowing how to interact with them anymore.

He was awkward when addressing others unless it pertained to their mission at hand, so he simply waited until the others were asleep before he would enjoy the warmth of the fire and start cooking himself a smaller meal. He favored fish, further adding to her "stray cat" title she had given him, and managed to eat so daintily that he would never have any residue on his face, hands or clothing. At sixteen, she still hadn't mastered the art of eating without entirely covering herself with crumbs and she was both impressed and envious at this fact.

It was apparent to her that despite his coldness and his silence, he longed for acceptance from others. After a few nights of sitting together, he started buying chocolate to share with her and she secretly delighted in his cautious attempts to connect with her, filled with a worry that she may not accept, so she started to share with him. For someone who spent so much time creating distance between himself and others, he certainly seemed to crave an end to loneliness.

Then one day, he transformed into something wolf-like. Cloud, Tifa and Barrett looked horrified and stepped back immediately and looked positively terrified. Aerith and Red XIII had something else written on their faces, pity mixed with a sense of despair and understanding. She watched, mesmerized. She had never seen anyone outside of Wutai transform into another form and, apparently, neither had their teammates if she was to judge by their reactions.

She felt a link to him after this, though it also made her homesick, so she dragged him back to their camp after he lost consciousness and gave him some time to himself.

His eyes said that he was full of shame and just as afraid as the others were from this transformation, but he was too full of pride to accept the sympathy of his comrades and he closed back up like a clamshell. She sat with him again and reveled in his shocked expression when she told him it was "kinda cool". He looked like a child in that moment, eyes wide and his barely visible lips forming an 'o' shape from beneath his cape. His lips were full and round, she noticed. His eyes gleaming and his lashes long and thick in a way she had only wished hers could be. His skin so milky and free from blemishes or scars or any form of imperfection. She blushed at the realization she was staring and hid herself away before she scared him off. After that, he started to join in with the rest of the group. She was glad.

He was like a stray cat, now finding a new home and a gently easing himself into trust despite his previous pain, He was beautiful underneath his worn down appearance. He was going to be ok.

Author note:

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I feel like the relationship between these two needs to be subtle and needs building. I also feel like Yuffie's sense of pride would have made it hard to connect with the group for quite a while as she wouldn't want anyone to baby her or be nice for the sake of politeness. Review and let me know what you think. I'll try to update this regularly.