Entanglement

Chapter 5 — Pursuit

By Crystal Snowflakes

It was a nice thought—the possibility that she could be anyone here. That was what was intoxicating about travelling around the world. In all the bustling of the large cities, she could have anonymity—could step into a new life; she could be who she wanted without the burdens of her throne chaining her down at every turn.

Yuffie supposed that that was what attracted her to the busy cities of Edge, Junon, and Costa Del Sol in the first place. Ever since she had been a child, despite her love for her people, a small part of her had wanted to be someone else due to the neverending amounts of demands; it was a dream she never let go of even though she had always known that it would never come true. Now that time had passed, and she was an adult—she scoffed at the thought—the dream had only become more insistent, more pressing, more compelling.

Staring out into the abyss of the sea with the moonlight shining dimly across the ocean, it was hard to swallow the reality that she would lose the freedom to roam soon. Surrounded with the heavy scent of seaweed, wet sand and salt, she took a shaky breath and tried not to let the lump in her throat bother her.

Her fingers tightened its hold against the rough stones of the seawall, her body trembling slightly as the numbness of the cold seeped into her bones. She didn't know what time it was, but if she had to guess, it was probably way past midnight. She had been here for what felt like hours.

The question that had been on her mind continued to plague her: could she give the world up for her country?

Was she capable of it? Did she love her people enough to?

Nobody would expect her to find a low-paying job and settle down here, in Costa Del Sol of all places. She didn't need much—never did—she tended to lead a minimalist lifestyle. Would she end up feeling trapped? How probable would it be to continue to travel the world, carefully avoiding everyone she knew?

But could she give up her friendship with them? Could she give up her friendship with the people she had grown to trust her life with, the people she had gone through hell and back with?

More often than not, Yuffie thought about running. She had never told anyone this, though she had an inkling that they knew her well enough to know that the thought had crossed her mind a few times, but she was most tempted whenever she was at the bar. Everytime Tifa's burgundy cheeks reddened as she stared at Rude, or when her lips were tilted in the gentlest smile as she spoke to Denzel, or when her eyes shone with joy as she whispered to Marlene, or when she held onto Lily's hand like it was the most precious thing in the world, Yuffie had had to swallow the urge to run as far away as possible.

But Tifa would never understand—could never understand—her life was as perfect as it could be; her life wasn't an impending trainwreck waiting to happen. She didn't feel the need to run away from her destiny because she could choose what her future looked like.

And everytime Yuffie looked at Tifa, she was afraid she would never be able to experience that happiness—would never be able to have the future that she wanted. When Tifa spoke of her family, Yuffie would imagine herself disappearing into the crowds as the world opened up to her with endless possibilities.

Except she'd never be able to run because the guilt of abandoning her country would swallow her whole. She'd never be able to do what she wanted to do—never be able to be who she wanted to be.

Unexpectedly, an image of his face—fiery hair, aquamarine eyes, bright tattoos and cocky smirk—flashed through her mind. She felt her chest tighten as it suddenly became a little harder to breathe, a little harder to think. Nails digging into her palms, she tamped down on her unwelcomed emotions.

It was better not to indulge herself with wistful ponderings; they were too different, despite the fact that they were so alike. Most importantly, he would never be the type to settle down, least of all with someone like her. Her life was too complicated and as complex as he was, he liked to keep his personal life simple. He went where he wanted, did what he wanted. The last thing he needed was to be tied down.

The light sound of footsteps that were barely detectable over the gentle lapping of the waves interrupted her thoughts. What made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, however, was the unmistakable low hum of electricity. She sat up a little straighter, her hand inching towards the shuriken as the sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through every nerve in her body. She knew Reno could have easily caught her off guard and completely unprepared, but the fact that he had turned on his nightstick purposefully—ahead of time—sent a familiar warmth to her chest. The distinct blue glow of his weapon illuminated the darkness of the beach faintly, and she looked over her shoulder with a small quirk of her lips.

"Fancy seeing you here, Turkey," she murmured, her fingers grasping onto her weapon tightly.

His nightstick rested against his shoulder as his lips curled into his usual cocky smirk—only the slight hardening around the corners of his mouth showed his hesitation. Yuffie had a sudden flashback of another time, years ago underneath the tunnels of Midgar.

"It's nothin' personal, brat," Reno spoke, his voice low and with the slightest hint of threat. And yet, underneath the dangerous tone was a touch of anger; she had a feeling it wasn't directed towards her. With his crisp navy suit, he looked every bit like the consummate professional that she knew she should be wary of—it was easy to forget that he was a deadly man underneath his usual mischief and snark.

"Y'know…" she started before trailing off, the words catching in her throat. Her face turned back towards the dim waves rolling in the darkness of the night and she didn't know how long she stayed quiet until she spoke again. "I always knew it was a possibility that we'd be on the opposite sides of the battlefield again." Her voice wavered the slightest bit and she felt annoyed at herself for feeling the tug of sadness at her chest.

She took a deep breath. "I just didn't think it'd be like this."

A soft scoff could be heard behind her. "How'd you think it was gonna happen?"

"As enemies, maybe?" she said with a wry smile. "I always thought Rufus would most likely end up following in his old man's steps after getting bored of playing hero for a few years, ya know? And then he'd continue the war against Wutai and maybe for laughs, he'd get you guys to assassinate me just to shut me up 'cause of all the jokes I make 'bout his pretty hair." In one swift movement, she had swung her body around to face him, her usual practiced grin on her face. "Who knew it was gonna be my old man who would hire you instead? Gawd things have changed."

He didn't speak; she didn't expect him to.

Her gaze studied his gaunt face and chiselled jaw, his bright tattoos contrasting against the paleness of his skin, the sardonic tilt of his lips that never failed to send her heart stuttering loudly in her chest. And even though it was too dark to see them properly, she could imagine the green of his eyes and the flecks of blue in them—she remembered the way they had softened when he looked at her all those times in the privacy of his home.

If only he wasn't who he was and she wasn't who she was.

Before she could change her mind, her body reacted. Heart pounding, she sent her weapon flying. Her lethal weapon glinted under the glow of the moon as it flashed through the air. His eyes widened a fraction before he swung his nightstick to counter her attack—bright blue sparks flew.

In one fluid motion, she flipped backwards to catch the shuriken in the air before regaining her footing, making sure to leave ample distance between them. The shifting of the sand beneath her boots annoyed her more than she expected; she had no idea how, but she could feel the small grains of sand between her toes and under her soles.

"You really wanna do this?" Reno asked bitingly, impatiently, annoyed. It was deceiving how relaxed he looked with his stance seemingly nonchalant and his weapon against his shoulder, but the way he was scrutinizing her every move told a different story.

"I got a choice?" she retorted, her tone more resentful than she had expected.

His eyes narrowed and she realized that for once, there was no taunting smirk on his face. "Sure, princess. Just like I do, yo." The words were said through clenched teeth, the sarcasm in his voice glaringly obvious.

The both of them were stuck between a rock and a hard place with nowhere else to go—nowhere else to run or hide.

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Guess our obligations finally caught up to us, huh?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that both of their hands were tied and having to accept it, especially since neither of them tended to take anything lying down. "Would've been cooler if this was an assassination attempt rather than a kidnapping," she mused mostly to herself, her wrist flicking as she tossed the shuriken in the air before catching it skillfully. "It'd be more of a challenge to fight you then."

The last time they had fought against each other had been years ago—they had fought side-by-side so many times since then.

In the blink of an eye, she shot forward as he dashed towards her—their gazes locked for the briefest moment. Her weapon spun towards him, slicing through the air with a loud swish as he sidestepped to dodge it, his nightstick raised. Instead of retrieving her weapon, she let it embed itself into the sand as it came around again and she took the opportunity to surprise him—she vaulted forward, evading the charged orbs and his downswing as she struck with her elbow.

Afterall, neither of them were aiming to kill. He had to bring her back to Wutai and she had to hurt him enough that he wouldn't continue the chase.

She felt the warmth of his chest under her elbow; he was surprisingly nimble to be able to have avoided the full strength of her attack. And then her body twitched in surprise as she felt the blunt end of his nightstick digging into her side.

She cursed herself for underestimating him even though she knew she shouldn't have.

But, it didn't hurt—not really. However, the fact that he had actually retaliated brought a wave of sorrow, anger, regret—she had expected it, but experiencing it was another matter altogether. Heatedly, her fingers snagged her throwing knives for a counterattack as every muscle in her body tightened, ready to launch back into him, ready to kick the shit out of him.

"Stop," he hissed, his calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist tightly—it wasn't hard enough to cause injury or to cause her not to be able to break free of his grip, though it might leave a bruise. She could feel her pulse beating strongly and erratically underneath his rough fingertips, and she briefly considered snapping her leg up to kick him in the face—though something inside her told her to stop, to listen.

"Doesn't have to be this way, Yuff." Her name escaped him in a breath, his voice barely audible even in the small space between them.

There was a brief reluctance at the way he spoke her name, at the way his face softened. And while she wanted to believe him and his subtle promise, she knew that unless she fought for her freedom, she'd never get it. His priority would always be Rufus Shinra and the Turks; she had always known and accepted that she would never take precedence.

And yet, her eyes watered, her lungs felt like they were on fire and her head throbbed with the beginnings of a migraine. Closing her eyes, she let out a deep pained breath before fluttering them open and forced a crooked grin on her face. "Ya know what'll happen when you drag me kicking and screaming back to Wutai, right?"

There was a split moment where he suddenly wavered and a spasm of apprehension crossed his face, but it was gone within the next second. And then he nodded. "I do," Reno said, his tone unusually serious for him. "But I also know you can only run for so long."

She knew the truth in his words because she wasn't sure how long she could run either; the world was only so big, and she was tired of running already. Her eyes studied the way his cheekbones jutted out, the way the dim light of the moon reflected from his eyes, the way his lips were pressed thinly together—there was no hint of his usual mocking smirk.

"I won't make it easy, ya know," she said, her voice sounding a lot more glum than she had intended it to.

"I know," he murmured after a short pause. She felt his warm breath on her face.

Her hesitation lasted for half a heartbeat before she tilted her face up, her other hand snaking up to his back before resting at the nape of his neck as she drew his mouth closer to hers—he lowered his face and grazed his lips against hers. The kiss was unexpectedly soft and gentle and for a brief moment, she felt the familiar tugging of her heart. Beyond all reason, a part of her wanted to stay here in his arms despite the fact that he was here to take her back to her personal prison. Selfishly and stupidly, she wanted to see if it was possible for anything more to happen between them.

Before he could deepen the kiss, she freed her hand from his grasp and her fingers snagged the handgun from his holster. And then she pulled back, breaking their contact—she was annoyed with herself for instantly missing the warmth of his touch.

Pushing herself away from him, she scrambled back towards her weapon, her feet sinking into the sand as she ran. The sense of relief when her fingers clutched her shuriken into her grasp was indescribable. When she felt that she had finally put enough distance between them, she chanced a glance backwards towards him.

He was standing stock-still, his hands in his pockets as his body slouched, his eyes locked on her. When she held up his pistol in her grip with her practiced grin in mock playfulness, he didn't even look at all surprised. What did surprise her though, was his barely perceptible nod.

Was he letting her escape?

Jaws clenched, she faltered for just a second before returning a stiff nod. Dropping his gun to the ground with a soft thud, she took one last look at him before turning around and running up the side of a building, disappearing from his vision within seconds. The lingering scent of his cigarettes, of his shampoo, of him was another reminder of how much she had lost—how much she would continue to lose thanks to the throne that she had been promised since she was a newborn.

She felt mentally exhausted and physically drained. All she wanted to do was to hide under a rock and sleep for days, months or years.

Instead, she continued to run away—away from her obligations, away from her people, away from her country.

Away from him.

Completed: February 3, 2021