Broken Stars; west and east
He said she could find him where East turned into West.
So, naturally, she tried to wring his neck.
They were proud as they wandered the Planet; separate maybe, but never really apart, because...
Because... why?
She sat down and pondered it one day in her stifling kimono and her blistering sandals, running her softened fingers over the four points of the star in her hand. North, South, East, West. Longish raven hair fell down past her shoulders and brushed against the cold metal.
Because she thought of him whenever a gun shattered the well-placed silence in her city; whenever she heard someone say something clearly enough, but she couldn't grasp it; whenever she felt like she was being watched.
Because she still took a bit of time to send a wish to the moon.
With four points in her mind, she was growing up. Somehow, though, she never really lost that childlike faith.
Never apart... because...
He sat down to think about it in the cold one day with his cloak billowing out majestically behind him and his eyes never shifted from some place beyond the horizon that he never could reach. His fingers curl around the comforting solidity of his gun.
Because he thought of her every time a little girl stomped her foot; whenever he felt like stopping to smell the barely open flowers; when he saw the ravens flying past his vision, and his eyes flick from the place he had been staring. They always got there before he did.
Because he always cracked half an eye to watch the sunrise.
With his eyes straying from the pinpricks of birds in the horizon, he was growing kind. But he never once took off that cloak.
Four points in hand, Yuffie took a deep breath
and said goodbye to the dusk—the East
and faced the sunset—the West
and listened to his broken metaphor shatter against the frozen ground.