She sipped calmly on her coffee, ice had hit Radiant Garden; far too hard. Yuffie was stuck in the snow all day, as the warm drink entered her body; she felt relief. Sitting in the café watching the usual line up of fools, do their poetry and what not. She smiled when a new musician had entered the scene, he was holding a blue sitar and had a mullet. He had already won her heart, her brother would disapprove entirely; which was a must in her requirements.

"Hey—" he said, shyly into the microphone. "I'm Demyx, and here goes nothing," he looked up at her, and smiled. He slowly started out, but then when it really got going, Yuffie forget where she was—she was lost in his music. She couldn't describe it, the music it was magic and it was taking her away—far, far away. Then before she knew it, it was over. The café broke into snaps, the magic had enwrapped them too, he grinned then left the stage. She finished her coffee, because listening to whatever the next guy had to bring would just break the spell, then she left. Walking home in the cold, humming his tune; the magic soaring through her veins, she laughed.

"Hey!" he shouted, she stopped dead in the intersection; waiting for him to catch up, he did soon enough. "So, you liked my song?" he asked, walking with her.

"No, I didn't like it—I want to marry it, it was amazing!" she smiled, with such energy she never knew she had.

"You think so?" she smiled at the pink on his face. "I mean, it was just something I worked up last minute…my band bailed on me."

"With your talent, you could go solo."

"Really!"

"Totally—your music is like magic."

"Thanks."

"You gotta teach me how to do that thing at the end," she held up her air sitar, imitating him. He laughed, sitting on her steps. She grinned at him, it was the perfect moment.

"Yuffie!" her brother, Cid, screamed. "What the hell are you doing, and you fucking hippie get off my fucking lawn!"

It would have been the perfect moment, she kissed Demyx on the cheek. "Bye, Demyx!" she said, laughing at her brother's expression. It was the start of something magical.

--le fin

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