Character/s: Yuffie, Godo, Sephiroth
Word Count: 949 (phew! )
Warning/s: War. Death. Wutaistuff.
Summary: It's a bit of a tradition.
Notes: Happy... May Day, Yami! XD;
- - -
It's something of a tradition in Wutai, but it's always felt special in her household, it's always carried a double weight - the ittekimasu and responding itterasshai when she leaves, the loud call of tadaima when she comes back and the answering okaerinasai. They live dangerous lives; they always have. Before she was ninja, before the war, even, there were always power struggles in their little kingdom. Any of them could have gone at any moment.
It's a little bit amazing, she thinks, that they all lasted until the war. She remembers there were cousins who died, suspiciously young, suspiciously suddenly - and if she tries really hard, she thinks she might remember making Shake taste her vegetables for her, like Staniv and Chekhov did for Mama and Pops. She thinks she probably only made Shake do it so she wouldn't have to eat them, because she knows now that she's pretty damn awesome at throwing up, so it's not like poison would've really been a problem. But it was amazing that they all lasted until the war, and through most of the war, until that final day with fire and smoke and her mother bleeding--
She doesn't remember what happened, exactly, after that, but people tell her in amused undertones about the way that, despite Sephiroth threatening her father with her death if he did not surrender, despite everything that had been going on at the time, she had bitten clean through Sephiroth's glove and into his forearm. They blamed her night vision on the mako-blood she must've swallowed.
All she really remembers is when Sephiroth let her go and she flew to her father, flew to him and thudded into his arms, covered in soot and blood and Leviathan knew what else - all that would readily come out of her mouth was tadaimatadaimatadaima, because she couldn't think of Mama, she just couldn't, and neither could he, neither could any of them, not until the war was over and done with and gone.
Except then she'd left, too, because it was too quiet in Wutai without Mama there, too quiet because all the little power struggles were gone and her Wutai was crushed like a lotus under the prow of a big fat Shinra canoe and there was no reason not to eat her vegetables any more, which sucked.
She'd thrown a rock through the library window with a note tied around it, like they only really did in cartoons, and it'd said ittekimasu and before she'd made it to the coast Da Chao was smoking, steaming and maybe she was imagining it, but the way the clouds streaked across the sky, they almost looked like brushstrokes wishing her well.
Fat chance, really, since she'd been sicker than ten thousand dogs on the barge that took her to the mainland.
It'd been a little weird, coming home such a long time afterward, coming home and sneaking, and not bursting straight in the door and hollering tadaimaaaaaaaa until Godo emerged to throw something at her, and then give a more proper greeting. It'd been weird, leaving a note on his desk the way she did - it'd been weird, seeing his reaction to that, too, the way he went all stiff and his face went pale and he couldn't seem to speak properly to anyone until he saw her again and they had their traditional at-the-door argument, only without the headlock and the noogie this time.
It was weird.
So she'd been glad when he'd told her goodbye properly, like he was supposed to do - it meant she could come back that way, it meant she was welcome to come back, and she'd missed that, the last time she'd left. It made her determined to come back properly, too, for a proper greeting - and come Sephiroth or mako-baths, she was going to do it!
Afterward, she makes Cid drop her off on the southern tip of the continent – she doesn't want to just jump out of the airship onto her home turf, she wants a little time to wind down from the battle. She wants a little time to collect dandelions along the way, and puff out her cheeks at the dead ones until she has the tiny floating seeds all in her hair and sticking to her turtleneck.
She walks through the city gates and the movement of the street stops around her. No one approaches her, no one reaches out to touch her hands – they just sort of stand there and stare. She's happy with that, though she thinks they could've said something.
She walks through the city toward her father's house – news travels pretty quickly, despite the lack of movement, apparently, because when she gets there, he's out on the front steps, staring at her with the same sort of intensity he'd stared at the first negotiators that had come to Wutai after Sephiroth had left. She grins at him and waves with her fingertips, resting Conformer easily against one shoulder.
"I'm home," she tells him in her native tongue, and she watches as his lips quirk and his arms open wide enough to envelop the whole street, let alone her skinny frame. She launches herself at him for the customary noogie, and they grapple for a few minutes – in front of the whole street, no less, with Staniv and Chekhov sighing and exchanging smiling glances from behind them. They throw each other to the ground and lie there laughing for a few seconds before they clamber back to their feet. Godo rearranges one long eyebrow and grins at her.
"Welcome back," he tells her with finality, and the street explodes with cheers.
- - -