Vincent placed his hand calmly into the … hole, and a frown creased his features. It wasn't the first of them he'd found, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He could only faintly see them, like spots on his vision after seeing a flash of bright light. Most of them were small, barely larger than his fingertip. But others were the size of men, and others still, the size of small vehicles.
As was the same with all the other holes, nothing momentous happened. The spot shimmered somewhat, as if reacting to something within Vincent, but other than that, it was eventless. The former Turk had tried throwing rocks at the holes, even shooting them, and they hadn't even done that.
Withdrawing his hand, he shook his head. Whatever was causing them was still a mystery, but as the day wore on, more appeared, and the older ones expanded. They may be connected to Sephiroth, but the Turk wasn't sure of that yet. Part of being a Turk was knowing how to be a proper investigator, and good detectives never made such leaps of faith. But they also never dismissed such possibilities until proven otherwise.
And that meant figuring out what the holes meant. He fingered his PHS. It hadn't been turned on in a year, but it had been well tended, just in case of an emergency. Unhooking the phone from his belt, he flipped open the top, and dialed the number of an old friend. It rang half a dozen times before someone picked up, half-shouting, "What d'ya want?"
"Cid," Vincent said, wasting no time on greetings, "I need you to cobble together any technology you may have borrowed from Cosmo Canyon or looted from the remnants of Shinra. I've found evidence of some sort of phenom-"
"What! Vin! That you? Damn you, you blood-sucking vampire! Fuck, no! I should say soul suckin'! You certainly suck a lot, I'll give you that! Disappear like you did after we beat Sephiroth, turn off yer damn phone, and now yer callin' and makin' demands? I ain't doin' it, you big dick! Not for all the tea in Wutai!"
The sound of something slamming followed, followed by Cid muttering about 'how the hell he missed the damn receiver' followed by another slam as all sound was cut off. Vincent looked at his phone, frowned, flipped it shut, and counted to three.
As he hit the third number, the PHS rang, and the ex-Turk opened it up, answering as politely as possible, "Yes, Cid?"
"You better damn well apologize t'me! And to everyone in Avalanche, too, although those prissy little girls all said some shit about 'respecting your space' and some other stupid shit! Now, where do you get off-"
This time, Vincent hung up on him. A moment after that, the phone rang again. The Turk allowed it to ring several times before finally answering it.
"Where the hell d'you get off hanging up on me?" Cid bellowed. "Why, I don't even know why I'm talkin' to-"
The former Turk deliberately pressed the 'END' button once more, terminating the conversation. A casual observer would think he was being immature, or avoiding the argument. A casual observer would be wrong. There was only one way to get the pilot's attention, and that was to get him to come to you. Short of begging, nothing else worked. And Vincent Valentine begged for no man.
Once more, the red-caped man let the phone ring a number of times before answering. After the count reached seven, he pressed the 'PHONE' button, and held the PHS to his hear.
"Okay," Cid grumbled, "I've got a deal. I look into your damn problem, and it better be important, and I get to yell at you some more. And no hangin' up!"
The Turk agreed to the terms, and then detailed out the strange 'holes' he had been seeing. Telling the pilot any details about his hearing the Planet was right out. Cid didn't need to hear about that until it became more than just a suspicion, and as for Sephiroth… There was no point in frightening Cid, or worse, bringing Cloud into it and getting him worked out about it. Cid was hardly the most quiet of men, sometimes seeming like a woman with his ability to gossip over a cup of tea. No, if he told Cid, it would get to Barret, and if it got to Barret, it would get to Tifa. And if Tifa found out, Cloud would know within the hour, if not sooner.
No, best not to complicate matters by adding Cloud Strife into the mix. The man was a walking fortress of issues. Even more than Vincent himself. Powerful, yet unpredictable, and for the moment, the former Turk felt like there was little enough that he could control about the situation.
"Huh," Cid said once Vincent was finished. "These holes sure as shit sound weird. I haven't seen anythin' like 'em, but then again, I seem to be missin' out on all the good sights today! First, I hear about some tournament goin' on in Gold Saucer that I ain't got no time for, and then… Would you believe Shera said she saw Sephiroth? Right here in Rocket Town. Got a real laugh outta that one! Imagine that… Sephiroth. And here was me thinkin' we killed him ages ago!"
But Vincent didn't laugh. He nearly dropped the PHS as he went dead cold, the closest thing to a panic he had felt in some time. He tried to sound calm, his normal cold tone filling his voice, devoid of emotion. "Sephiroth?"
"Yeah, the fool girl said she saw Sephiroth, black coat and silver sword and all, walk out of a hole in … the… air. Aww shit. Y'don't think the two're connected, do you?"
"Pray that they're not," Vincent said grimly. "Don't tell any of the others what has transpired, not until I have more information. No need in panicking them."
"Yeah. I won't say a damn thing."
"Your word on it. None of them must know of any of this. Especially Cloud."
"Shit, man. I damn near forgot you've been gone so damn long. You don't know. Cloud's been missing for almost a damn year now. I couldn't tell the numbskull if I wanted to!"
Chapter Nine
Kochi
Introductions were made, and the Dragoon related his tale to the monk mercenary. Amarant wasn't sure how much of Kain's story he believed. Every one of his instincts screamed against the absurdity of the entire thing, but on the other hand, he himself had been on a similar adventure. Along with Zidane and his group of pansies, Amarant had in fact been to another world, one somewhat similar to his own. Was there some link between this 'world traveling', and the traveling done between Gaia and Terra?
The monk took it all stoically, neither believing nor disbelieving, just observing the three men. The fellow in the blue dragon armor, Kain, was clearly the leader. Bold, strong, assertive in his authority. But there wasn't something quite right about him, as if he were unsure of his place. Amarant filed that away for later use. Next was the samurai, complete with bad mustache and greased back hair tied in a ponytail. Just the way he stood, with his expression of self-righteous fury, reminded Amarant so much of a knight he had known once, a man by the name of Adelbert Steiner. Amarant hadn't liked him either.
The third of their number disturbed Amarant, though. He'd heard and even on some occasions, seen Kain and Cyan moving about in the tall grass. But this black-garbed man, this… Shadow… had somehow managed to move without making a single sound, without making a blade of grass move. Not even Amarant himself was capable of that level of stealth. For a brief moment, the monk wondered how well Shadow could fight.
"So," Kain said, finishing off. "Will you join us?"
Thinking it over, Amarant was tempted to say no. Money was tight with all the warring over and done with. Everyone who needed killing was dead. No one wanted to fight anymore, they just wanted to rebuild. What the mercenary needed was a paying job, to support his nasty habit of eating.
But then again… as Kain had related the story, something had gripped him. The name. He didn't know the man, had no idea what he was about, but something in him reverberated. A reaction that reverberated to his very soul. As if something had finally clicked into place, something he'd spent his whole life waiting for. The fight he'd spent his whole life waiting for.
Sephiroth.
"Only if you slouches promise not to get in my way," he grunted. He purposely craned his neck as he said it, the muscles making audible snaps and crackles.
The one named Cyan seemed to take offense to the comment, but Kain merely nodded, and Shadow turned away, but something about that man's stance… that one didn't trust Amarant at all. And that was just as well. Amarant didn't trust him either. Didn't trust any of them. But especially didn't trust Shadow.
"So, we goin'?" the big monk asked.
Moments after that, Kain made sure all three of them were touching him, and held up his spear as he seemingly searched for something. Amarant took careful note of it all, watching Kain's habits as he moved, looking for what it was the Dragoon was searching for. But mostly, he noticed that Shadow watched Kain every bit as much as he did. Dissension in the ranks, or was the black-garbed man as dubious about this mission as Amarant was?
Further speculation was cut off as a jolting sensation struck him in the stomach, and suddenly, it felt as if he were being stretched, but held in place at the same time. Bile rose up in his throat as he had the sudden urge to vomit. Everything began to blur….
And then, just like that, it was over. Everything jolted as Amarant felt the ground shift under him, and it was suddenly night. The sky was pitch black, and more, the ground was covered in snow. Wherever they were, it wasn't anywhere close to where they had been.
Shadow dropped his hand from Kain's shoulder first, and Amarant did like-wise. Cyan, awe-struck and staring at his surroundings like a country bumpkin, was the last to do so, his hand falling to his sword as he suddenly realized that even though their surroundings appeared peaceful, they could easily be dangerous.
Shadow appeared to be likewise battle-ready, but Amarant merely looked over his surroundings contemptuously. They were in the countryside, but not far from them was a small town that appeared to be in ruins. Even from the distance, though, signs of humanity could be seen. Lighted windows, and people moving around.
All about them mountain peaks reached for the sky, and the sky held clouds that looked pregnant, about to give birth to new snow. Amarant hoped that they wouldn't be out too long. He was beginning to feel the urge to sit by a fire, and drink his fill of good beer.
Kain held up his spear-like lance, staring directly at it. His eyes slowly closed, as if focusing. A look of grim determination came over his face, and then suddenly, it was wiped away, and the man was thrown back, falling to the ground, gasping for air. Shadow was instantly by his side, crouching down, while Cyan surveyed the surroundings, looking about for potential danger. Amarant grunted.
"What happened?" Shadow hissed.
"Tried to… sense our next member…" Kain rasped. "… Got feedback… don't know what happened. So angry. Whoever it is… he's filled with such… rage."
"Did you get a name?" Shadow asked. "A description?"
"No," Kain said. "Just a direction… a pulling, and a feeling of unbelievable anger. Somewhere there."
He pointed to the walled town ahead with his lance. There were no words needed between the four. They merely set out to their destination.
The group attracted some curious glances as they entered the town, which mostly stood in ruins. As they entered the walls, Shadow disappeared from sight, scrambling up a wall and moving from damaged rooftop to damaged rooftop. Even without the presence of the black-garbed assassin still brought on many confused and curious looks. Clearly, wherever they were, the appearance of a seven-foot tall man with blue-tinged skin, a man wearing the armor of a samurai, and a Dragoon were not common sights.
Amarant paid the people no mind. What did it matter to him what people thought? He was used to idiots staring at him. Everywhere he went, people wanted to gawk at the red-haired giant. This was no different. Still, his hands twitched with the need to do violence.
The three wandered the streets, Kain acting as their guide. He didn't hold the look of profound concentration that he had before, but something about him still seemed set.
The more they moved, the more Amarant came to realize that many of the ruined buildings had at one point been part of one greater building, one that had perhaps sprawled the entire length of town. But now many newer buildings had been built on the premises, replacing many of the older ones, and turning it into more of a town than it would a complex.
A movement caught the mercenary's eye, a patch of darkness where there should have been starlight up on a rooftop to his left. Shadow had deliberately revealed himself. Amarant grunted, patted Kain on the shoulder, and the Dragoon stopped and looked at him, perplexed. The redhead nodded his head toward the rooftop. Glancing in the direction as discretely as possible, Kain spun on his heel and headed to the alleyway closest to the rooftop. Once the small group was inside, Shadow emerged from the darkness. Amarant frowned. He hadn't even seen the man leave the rooftop. Stealth was clearly his primary strength. But did his fighting skill match?
"What did you find out?" Kain asked.
"Not as much as I would have liked. I found a building with a banner on it that identified itself as the 'Trabia Garden Reconstruction Committee.'"
"What does it matter that these locals wish to restore a local garden?" Cyan asked.
Amarant was about to agree when Shadow glared at the man, saying; "I thought much the same in my ignorance at first. But then I stumbled on a map of… well, here…"
The man produced a neatly folded piece of paper from his belt, and laid it out on the ground, motioning everyone closer to see it. In the little light, Amarant had to squint, but it looked like the layout of the town, and on the top, labeled in large letters, read, 'TRABIA GARDEN.'
"So we know where we are," Amarant said. "Big deal."
Kain pointed to one particular spot on the map, something that looked to be part of what was once the main complex. "A training center. A barracks. Mess hall. Was this some sort of a military installation?"
Shadow nodded. "Perhaps once. But not any longer."
"The damaged buildings," Cyan said. "I see. This Trabia Garden hast seen the wicked ways of war, and still rebuilds."
Amarant grunted, looking at the buildings once more. "And it saw some bad fightin' from the looks of it. So, if this was some sort of military installation… who took them out, how recently, and is the fight really over?"
"It doesn't matter," Shadow said. "We shouldn't be here long enough to worry about it."
Kain, however, looked thoughtful. Scratching his chin, he looked up at the buildings, and answered, "I'd say this took place about a year ago. Some sort of magical attack, perhaps…"
"Cannons," Amarant said.
"Maybe. I don't think I've ever seen a cannon capable of this level of destruction, though. It looks like the attack was indiscriminate, though. Half the buildings that should have been destroyed weren't, and from the looks of it, some of those that were shouldn't have been. And judging from repairs and lack of newly erected fortifications, I can judge that we don't have to worry about a second attack so long as we're here."
"Good, now if we can continue our searching…?" Shadow said, impatience heavily layered on his voice.
Amarant grunted, stood up straight, and walked away from the little group huddle. They sure as hell didn't need his help, and when they were done, they'd come for him since they apparently needed him so badly. Behind him, he heard Cyan grumble something about a 'miscreant dog' and a 'disrespectful fool.' Only catching the gist of it, Amarant could only assume Cyan was speaking of his own mother.
Snow crunched under his boots as he took the most direct path to the nearest tavern. He'd spied out its location on the map when Shadow had rolled it out, and was now determined to get something resembling food and drink into him. He wasn't sure if his money was going to be good in this world, but gil was made from gold, and gold was usually always worth something. Or so he hoped. If not, he could always dine and dash. Not like any of the local twerps could stop him anyway.
Finding the tavern wasn't hard. It was one of the larger buildings, with light pouring out of most of its windows, and an aura of noise seemed to bubble out of it as a female voice sang, and a boisterous crowd within cheered it.
The front door swung open as Amarant shoved it, causing it to bang against the wall. He strode through the opening, stopped, and surveyed the crowd. Most of the people were dressed casually, but one out of every three seemed to be wearing some sort of school or military uniform. No one paid any attention to his rather dramatic entrance, instead more focused on a girl in a yellow dress that stood on a stage, singing her heart out to anyone who would listen. He caught a few words with half an ear, something about a heartbreaking cowboy and a pretty flower of a girl. A love song that he could thankfully tune out.
He made his way across the bar, looking for an empty table. The place was packed, but oddly enough, there was a single empty table with a lone chair. Mentally shrugging, he grabbed the seat, pulled it out and sat down, noting the looks he received from several people. Obviously sitting in that particular chair was a bad idea. Tough shit for whoever normally occupied it.
A waitress came by, and nervously asked him if he'd like anything to eat. He ordered a plate of steamed vegetables, despite how a part of him longed for red meat, still bloody and ripe. "I also want beer. Two pitchers. I have some friends who're going to join me in a bit, and they might want one. Make that three pitchers."
"How many cups?" she asked, looking around nervously, as if searching for someone. Probably for the owner of the chair.
"Three," he said. Let Cyan get his own damn cup.
The girl smiled a fake smile and walked away, clearly worried about something. Amarant could read between the lines. Whoever normally sat in this seat would probably be angry and would want it back. Maybe enough to start a fight for it. The mercenary smiled. He always liked a good tussle.
"CHAIR," a voice said from behind him. He frowned. It was a female voice. "MINE."
Standing up, making sure to put his back as straight as possible so his full height of seven foot six showed, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, and smirked, saying, "Your chair?"
He turned as he said it to regard his opponent, deliberately making a show of having to look down on her. The woman - no, girl - stood only up to mid-chest on him, glaring up with red one eye, the other covered with a patch, her face covered in a fury. Her skin looked to be dead white, and her hair was an equal match. Both her fists were clenched at her sides, but she didn't appear too steady on her feet. He nearly laughed in her face. A one-eyed, albino girl wanted to pick a fight with the flaming Amarant? And she was drunk, too!
"MINE," she said, and kicked him in the shin. "LEAVE."
Okay, he thought, in pain from his throbbing shin, but refusing to let it show. The bitch dies.
He didn't even bother pulling his two claw-like weapons from his belt. For some reason, he felt like getting some blood on his knuckles. Setting his body into a near squat, he lowered his fists until they were almost touching the ground, preparing to unleash his body like a spring into a series of massive strikes. In turn, the girl put herself into a traditional stance, albeit a sloppy one. She really was drunk. He snorted. This would be quick.
"Stop!" a voice cried.
Like that'll happen, Amarant thought, getting ready to take his first swing.
A girl with brown hair and wearing a yellow dress, the same one that had been singing on stage, jumped between them, both her arms in the air, while she began chanting a mantra of, "Everyone! Love! Peace, and happiness!"
Okay, the albino dies second.
"LEAVE," the one-eyed woman said to the newcomer.
"Come on, Fu!" the girl exclaimed. "No more fighting. Remember what the bartender said? He won't let you drink here anymore if you keep on fighting."
Breaking his stance, Amarant rolled his eyes. It's not that he went around looking for fights these days like he used to, but he still enjoyed a good brawl, and drunk or not, the albino named 'Fu' had spirit. And Amarant Coral loved to punch the spirit out of people.
"Please!" the girl said. "Don't fight, Fujin. I'll… I'll sing that song you wrote! I know it's kind of gloomy, and dark, and not my usual thing, but I'll sing it if you don't fight!"
The albino's face flickered between anger at Amarant and… something else he couldn't quite identify directed at the girl in the ugly dress. Something resembling… happiness? … The albino dropped her stance, and the other girl began talking again, a bubbling of emotion coming out. "Okay. Good! We're not fighting. No fighting tonight! Peace prevails again!"
The woman named as Fujin glowered at the yellow-clad hippy. "SING."
"Okay, okay… I just have to remember how it goes. 'She's not but a whisper…' Uhm… 'A Thousand Sins hold onto her'… er… I remember there was something about a devil rising from someone's chest… oh, and a knife. Something about her loved one killing her, right? I can't remember."
"BAH!"
Amarant, impatient, interrupted, "So, we gonna throw down, or what?"
Fujin stared hard at him, but began to turn away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the inn open and Kain and his little procession troop in. Time for them to see what the Flaming Amarant could do.
"That's cool. I'm sure there's someone else who'd rather fight. I mean, if you're sitting around writing nothing but sissy songs all the time, I'm sure you wouldn't be much of a challenge, anyway."
Fujin abruptly turned on him, her face flushing with anger, and fists clenching.
"You should get angry more often. Gives you some color. Doesn't make you look like such a freak."
"RAGE!" she said in her normal, abrupt and loud tone.
"Come on, Fu," the girl at her side said, trying to pull her away. "I'll sing your song… you just have to remind me how it goes. Sorry, but the song's really morbid. Not even Raijin or Seifer liked it, even when they were still-"
Fujin's fist abruptly lashed out and connected with the tiny girl's face, knocking her flat. Everyone in the bar studiously began looking somewhere else. Amarant smiled. The distraction was gone.
His first swing caught her clean in the jaw. The second drove the breath from her lungs as it connected to her midsection. Fujin stumbled back, gasping wildly. She began to circle him, dropping low, as if ready to spring away from his next hit. Smart move. Weren't a whole lot of people who could take too many of his hits.
His third punch was a downward attack, but Fujin quickly dodged aside, and instead his fist connected with a table, part of the wood smashing off as it did. Still Amarant swore. The table may have given way to his fist, but wood shards had embedded themselves into his knuckles. He hated it when that happened.
Abruptly, his hair began to blow in his face, and whipped about. He turned around, focusing on his opponent, who was surrounding in a small blue glow, an aura of magic about her.
"Ah, hell," was all he could manage as a tornado spell took him full on in the chest and threw him across the room, along with several pieces of furniture. Slamming into the wall, Amarant could feel the wind magic inside of him, and took his opponent into a new consideration. It had been a powerful spell, one that if allowed to continue, might have killed him. Good thing for her she had stopped it early. She was about to learn a little lesson about Amarant Coral.
People all about screamed and began to flee. Soon, the room was vacated, save for himself, Fujin, and Kain and his little entourage, who watched from the sidelines. Oh hell no. He wasn't gonna be shown up by no freak girl in front of them.
The winds began to die down, and Fujin glared at him, but seemed a little unsteady on her feet. The fight was almost over, and Amarant was annoyed by that more than anything else. Too soon for that. Spell must have winded her. Ugh. Now I'm making puns in my head.
"Your first mistake," Amarant said simply as he stood up, "was that you picked a fight with me. The Flaming Amarant. Your second mistake was, you cast magic at me. And me and magic… well…"
He held his hand up, and released the magic that had stored in his body, the same magic that Fujin had used to strike him. Not many monks could 'return magic,' as the technique was called, but Amarant was the best of the best. A new tornado spell ripped through the room, slamming into Fujin this time and sending her into the air and down onto the ground. Hard.
She began to get up, very unsteadily. She coughed once, and blood splattered on the ground. He frowned. That probably wasn't a good sign. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard. Oh well.
Standing up fully, she said, "RAGE."
She shouldn't be standing. No one could take a hit like that directly and still be standing. Not when they were her size anyway. He knew something was probably ruptured inside of her. And she was still standing.
Roaring, she charged at him. She came within reach, and Amarant's fist hooked out to meet her. Ducking under it, she moved in closed, pummeling at his torso with her tiny fists. He grunted, but recovered, stepping back and slamming her in the face with a left jab, followed by an uppercut from the right. She crashed to the ground once more, where she lay for a moment, until moaning, she began to stand up again.
"Stay down," Amarant growled.
She began to move towards him again, defiance etched across her face. Looks like he'd have to kill her to get her to stop.
"Stand down!" Kain commanded.
Both of them ignored him, so focused they were on each other. Blood dribbled down Fujin's nose and lips, but anger poured from her one eye. Cracking his neck, Amarant lifted one hand and made a 'come here' gesture.
She stood her ground, and he smiled. At least she was being smart this time, waiting for him to come to her instead of just blindly charging again. He began to move towards her, slowly and inexorably.
He caught a black flicker from the corner of his eye, and stopped dead as he saw Shadow moving towards him, lightning fast. Too late. The black-clad figure ducked down low, one of his legs sliding out and taking Amarant's feet from under him. Even as he tried to get up, the ninja slammed his fist into the mercenary's face, knocking his head back.
His mind swimming in a daze from the abruptness of the impact, Amarant could only think one thing before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Damn, he's quick.
Kain threw a few more sticks onto the fire of their newly made camp, and frowned at the unconscious girl, wrapped in what blankets they could purchase before having to flee Trabia due to their newfound unpopularity. A moment after that, the frown became directed at Amarant, also still unconscious from Shadow's attack. Watching the assassin had been, once again, impressive. A second after Kain had given the order, Shadow had forcefully separated the two in the most efficient way possible. But for now, the Dragoon had little time to be impressed. No, at the moment, he was angry. Amarant didn't seem to be working out with the group, and he hadn't even been with them for two hours. He was arrogant and disobedient. But every time Kain thought of simply returning Amarant to his home world, or stranding him on this planet, the lance conveyed a sense of doom. Amarant, for whatever reason, was needed.
As was this girl. Kain once more looked at her, trying to figure out what to do about her. After Amarant had left, Kain had once more tried to get a bearing on her with his lance, and discovered her name, Fujin, as well as a description, but little feeling for where she was. So, he'd been forced to ask around, and what he'd discovered had not impressed him.
A former member of a military organization called SeeD, Fujin had been kicked out for treasonous acts, assisting a known terrorist named Seifer, and working under a tyrannical Sorceress named Ultimecia. Moreover, since the death of Ultimecia, Fujin had disappeared alongside Seifer and another man named Raijin for some time, only to reappear later without their company, and a sudden thirst for all the strong drink she could get her hands on. She had, for reasons of her own, become an alcoholic. And the only way she had to support herself during that time was by writing songs for Trabia Reconstruction Fundraising concerts, and working as a mercenary from time to time. No one knew why she had turned to the bottle, but everyone pointed out exactly where Kain could find her.
"WHERE?"
Kain gave a small jump as the albino girl sat straight up, peering around her intently, obviously on her guard.
"Outside Trabia," Kain said. "Sorry about the rough treatment Amarant gave you. I've only recently become… acquainted with him, and already there've been difficulties. He's a bit-"
"STUPID," the girl supplied. Not insulting him from her tone. Asserting his status was closer.
"Well, I'm not so sure…" Looking to the prone form of Amarant, Kain shrugged. "Okay, maybe he is. Now, I have a proposition for you…" When she flinched, and pulled the sheet around herself tighter, he protested, "No, no. Nothing like that. Think of it as a mercenary job, but without the pay. I have a…" He looked about, instinctively seeking out Shadow and his mocking interjection. When it didn't come, he continued, "… unique situation."
He detailed out the last day, leaving out as few details as possible. He explained his personal history with Golbez, and the two being partially mind-controlled by Zemus. He deliberately left himself vague when it came to Cecil and Rosa, which Fujin narrowed her eyes at, but said nothing, and explained as much as he could about the cave, Golbez's newfound status as some sort of dimension protecting Lunarian, the little he knew about Gilgamesh, and the name… Sephiroth.
"NO."
"No?"
"NO."
Kain shook his head. This wasn't going to be easy. Then again, with his other companions so far… that seemed to be the track record. "Think it over. I'm going to relieve Shadow on watch."
Fujin frowned at Kain's back as the man walked away, and looked about her surroundings. Nearby, the one called Amarant snored. The man had probably been awake for Kain's entire explanation, but pretended to still be unconscious, and then slipped into sleep when it was all over. She didn't like him, and not just for the incident in the bar. There was just something about him… something that radiated the need to be alone, and for someone that had until recently always been attached to a posse for as long as she could remember… the very notion offended her.
It didn't matter anyway. She had no urge to be a hero. Kain said something like 'people who wanted to redeem themselves fought harder.' Or had said that Golbez had said it. It might've been true. She didn't know. But there was nothing Fujin had ever done that she'd felt the need to redeem herself for.
"So, he didn't convince you."
Fujin gave a start, reaching for her pinwheel that was tucked in her belt, under her coat. At first she couldn't see who had said the words as she surveyed the darkness, but finally, the fire flickered, and she caught the reflection of the flames in a pair of eyes staring directly at her. She met that gaze, attempting, as always, to stare it down. Not even Squall Leonhart could match her for long, but this one caught her eyes, and even though she couldn't see the rest of him, she knew he smiled a lifeless smile. Shuddering, she looked away.
A pair of boots softly sounded across the snow-covered ground, barely making the lightest of crunches. She only heard it because of her considerable sense of hearing. She looked up to see the man all in black, the man Kain had called Shadow, standing before her, looking down.
"I don't blame you," he said, crouching as he did, moving himself close to her. "You're like me. Like him," he moved a hand, never looking away from her. She kept his gaze, determined to hold onto it this time, but she knew he was pointing at Amarant. "The other two… Cyan, and Kain. They're heroes. Cyan knows it, but Kain doesn't. I watch him. All the time. I don't understand him completely, which I don't like. Cyan is an open book. Honor. Justice. Following his Lord. Following his heart. Everything is simple to him. Everything's simple to Amarant, too. Personal gain. Surviving. But at the same time, he's looking for a fight. Maybe he wants to die, as well as survive. I'm not sure. We'll see in time. Now, girl, do you think I've read you already? Are you an open book?"
"NO," she blurted, just as she always seemed to. Talking was always difficult for her. An old injury, never completely healed or cured. Her vocal chords didn't have the strength for lengthy conversation, nor the subtlety for quiet words. "DIFFERENT."
"That's what everyone says," Shadow hissed disgustedly. "Everyone thinks they're different, when in reality, they're just a copy of other people. A little piece of mother. A little dash of father. Different mixtures of tragedy and blessings. But in the end, everyone's the same as everyone else, just a different amount of ingredients."
She was about to protest against his words, at what he was implying, but then stopped. She realized what he was doing. Not for her benefit, but for his. His garb, his daggers at his belt, his eyes, the way he'd knocked both Amarant and her out at the bar. This man was a killer. He said what he said because it was his way of justifying all the death he had caused. "YOU. OPEN BOOK."
His eyes widened ever so slightly, and he nodded his head. "Exactly. Even me. There's something you should know. Even though everyone was pre-chosen by Golbez, except for Cyan… Kain's not trying to form a group of warriors to fight Sephiroth. He's doing what his instincts tell him to do. I don't know what he told you about his old friend Cecil, his friend… his rival. But Kain wants that relationship back at some level. He's looking for another … extended family."
Fujin's good eye widened at that. Something seemed to click into place; as if that's what she'd been waiting to hear. She needed to confirm it. "POSSE?"
Standing up, Shadow began to walk away, but not before tossing an offhand comment of "Sure" her way. She twisted the blanket in her hands about, and looked to the sleeping Amarant, in the direction Shadow retreated, and to where Kain was probably standing watch. And she made her decision.
