a
tale by
. . Morning Zephyr .
.
u n s t r u n g
m e l o d y
Hands of delicate silk gingerly enclosed around the
marvelously carved masterpiece of brass.
In her mind she contemplated whether intrusion upon such a sacred place
should be permissible, even if she was the reigning lady of her land.
Her people would never gain knowledge about the entrance, and if they did, she
was certain they would understand her need of escape as transient as it may
be. Even if they did not approve or
think highly of her decision on breaking the young tradition, they would still
allow it for they respected her just as much as they did Hoshiko
Kisaragi.
How can they ever compare me to her, she
wondered. Many times, when the gray
skies turned midnight blue, she would
lay undisturbed by the sleep fairy and desperately try to find a quality she
shared with her mother. The latter was
beautiful and charming; admired by whoever set eyes upon her. Yuffie was, well, everything opposite.
Or so she thought.
Eyelids fluttered very tenderly and slowly covered chocolate-glazed orbs. As she breathed, a picture of her cherished
mother discreetly crept into her mind and refused to leave. Or perhaps she just didn't want it to fade
away. Raven ringlets framed an ethereal
curving of lips and harmless mischievousness danced among the unique tint of
lavender.
Her father had always said she inherited her mother's pristine, cottonwhite skin, and maybe others claiming to see a
purplish touch to her own coffee-colored eyes had more of an explanation than
just a play on light.
Unconscientiously biting her lower lip out of habit, she gave the intricately
designed mahogany doors a push. Upon
opening her eyes, she revealed to herself a ball room so grand that being void
of luxurious embellishment had not stripped it of its majesty.
She stepped forward and made an indentation on the unscathed, yet dusty marble
floor. The collecting layer of minute
particles was hardly startling. Her
father had prohibited entrance eight years ago and made certain ones who broke
that rule received severe punishment in return for disobedience.
But Godo wasn't around to reprimand her anymore. She almost wistfully longed to hear her
father's castigating voice ring in her ears one more time, and after he finished
his scolding, she would do something she had never done before – run into his
arms and weep. He would probably be much
too taken by surprise to protest, but perhaps he would embrace her with the
affection that always remained hidden.
He never gazed at her with paternal care evident in his eyes nor did he ever
compliment her accomplishments, but Yuffie knew he had, or at one point did,
love her.
Yes, he had harshly berated her more times than could be counted, and she
always threw a fit after their arguments or left Wutai
immediately. As she matured and grew up,
though, she realized that she did not get angry because her father chastised
her. It was because she knew Godo's reprimands stood reasonable and correct.
Yes, he even threatened to disown her when she publicly revealed her fiancée to
the citizens of Wutai.
She could still vividly remember the lines of age on Godo's
forehead developing slightly deeper when he caught sight of the phrase "Elegant
princess chooses Ex-Turk" etched boldly across the front page of "The Wutai Appeal." He
had stared at the headline for a moment longer before slowly lowering the
newspaper to glare murderously at Yuffie sitting nonchalantly on the other side
of the breakfast table. This was when Godo announced that he would even deny the existence of his
only daughter to make certain the Kisaragi bloodline remained pure and
unsoiled.
Of course, he never implemented his threat, which had resulted from the abrupt,
unwelcoming news. Yet he never approved
of Yuffie's choice nor will he ever.
She brought the back of her hand up and brushed her eyelid softly, pushing back
the urge to cascade tears.
Glancing around, she smiled a nostalgic smile lacking any trace of
happiness. Her eyes wandered over to the
corner of the room where a solitary adornment sat sheltered by coverings and
untouched by the fingers of dust.
She recognized it as her mother's favorite – a lustrous black piano.
Slowly, she walked over to it. Long,
slender fingers laid on the edge of the white fabric only to lift it off and
disclose the precious treasure it had been hiding.
Yuffie stood motionless with almond eyes tracing an outline of the
instrument. Finally, she pulled the
matching mahogany bench out from underneath the piano and placed herself upon
it as she had done long ago. She ran her
fingers over the smooth lid encasing the eighty-eight black and white keys that
produced so many pieces of beautiful music in the past under the enchantment of
her beloved mother.
Her heartbeat quickened nervously as she slid the top into its resting
place. If I can play this right, that
means Mother and I do have a
similarity, thought Yuffie.
To her dismay though, the doubt of remembering how to play the grand instrument
visited with a memory about a comparable uncertainty from childhood. Only this time, Yuffie was sure no one was
going to comfort and assure her of her abilities.
To her, it seemed like forever since they
started practicing. She was halfway
through the piece when her little fingers mistook the middle C for a D. "Mommy, I can't do this. I just can't." An exasperated ten-year-old jumped off the
bench and stomped her feet on the floor.
A woman who was keenly observing the little girl's progress took her by the
hand and led her over to the recliner.
She placed the girl on her knees and asked, "Yuffie, do you want to get
it?"
She rested her lithe fingers on the opening keys and pulled pale-peach over
chocolate. Her only inspiration was a
few fluffs of memories, but that was enough.
Oh gawd, I'm not going to remember this, she
thought.
Yuffie looked into her mother's eyes and replied
with as much honesty a child her age could muster. "I want to so very badly, but I can't."
"Honey, remember that as long as you're willing, as long as you want to, you
can achieve anything."
She didn't think she would be able recall the notes, but her fingers started
playing, gliding over each key mellifluously.
The dead room suddenly filled with glorious music and became alive. The movement of her hand no longer belonged
to her as she hit each note of her mother's self-composed song with precision.
Suddenly, little Yuffie began to cry and
brought her hands up to wipe the fast-falling crystal droplets. Incoherently she muttered, "M-mommy, you're
mad at me, a-aren't you?"
Hoshiko brushed runaway tears with the gentleness
only a mother possessed and smiled slightly at her daughter's innocence. "Of course not. Why would Mommy be mad?"
"B-because I messed u-up before." She wrapped her arms around her mother and
cried against her shirt.
She approached the measure where she had continuously played incorrectly
during her adolescence. This time,
though, she performed it with more meticulousness than ever before. She knew if her mother was beside her, she
would be smiling at her proudly.
She embraced Yuffie. "No one is
perfect. Mommy understands. Don't cry.
How about we pick up again tomorrow?
You can go play in the gardens for the rest of the day."
She stifled the last of her sobs after hearing her mother's consolation. "Thanks, Mommy." She stretched and kissed Hoshiko's
naturally-blushed cheeks before bouncing off her knee and skipping happily out
the door.
Alas, as the memory ended, so did
the magic in her hands. She found
herself unable to continue the song.
Eyes still closed, she furrowed her brows and bit her lower lip in concentration. Randomly, Yuffie played a few keys, hoping to
be reminded by the right note. It didn't
work.
Frustrated that a similar problem hindered her from completing the song, she
balled her fists and slammed the piano keys.
A mass of different notes creating nothing but a disturbance
reverberated through the empty ballroom and down the corridor.
This time, tears flowed and she didn't bother.
Droplet by droplet ventured down her pristine face and splashed onto the
surface of the keys.
"And to think I was close to finding something that reminded me of my
mother. Pure shit," said Yuffie
softly. She opened her eyes and looked
down at the blacks and whites in disappointment.
The more she thought about it, the more she cried and became too preoccupied to
notice someone enter the room. The
person's presence wasn't discerned by her until he sat down next to her on the
bench.
He enclosed an arm around her petite waist and pulled her closer to him. He brushed strands of hair aside and placed a
light yet tender kiss on her forehead.
"Yuffie, don't cry."
The loving in his voice made her break down even more. He usually called her by nicknames, but she
loved it best when he used her name.
Somehow, he could make a name as plain as hers sound utterly unique.
"R-Reno, I'm a disappointment, a-aren't I?"
He looked down at her and smiled. "Nah. You're just . .
. Yuffie."
His answer made the corner of her lips curve upward slightly. She managed to bring her sobs under control
enough to talk comprehensibly and repositioned her head on his strong yet gaunt
shoulder. "I'm a disgrace. I can't even play my mother's masterpiece."
Reno brushed her lingering tears
away softly with his fingertips. His
gentleness was different than her mother's, but she liked it just the same.
"You mean this piece?" asked Reno as
he handed the papers to Yuffie who hadn't detected them before.
She took them into her own hands and looked them over. It was the original copy of her mother's work,
the very one Yuffie tried to play just minutes before.
"How'd you find this?"
Yuffie asked, now glancing and absorbing each note and rest.
"It was on the floor by the piano covers.
I saw them when I was walking in and picked them up."
As Yuffie had lifted the white blanket,
she unknowingly swept the piece of music along with the fabric onto the
hardwood floor.
"So is this what you were playing before?" inquired Reno
again.
Ashamed, Yuffie looked away and replied almost inaudibly, "Yes."
Reno grinned. He was hoping this was the piece she was
frustrated over. "Yuffie, look at me."
She didn't obey, leaving him with no choice but to convince her nonverbally. He placed a hand under his sweetheart's chin
and turned her towards him. He cupped
her face and stroked her rose-pink cheeks with his thumbs. "You didn't finish playing it before, did
you?"
"Reno, I don't wanna
talk about it."
"No. You need to. I want you to be able to confide in me. I promise I can make everything better."
She just nodded in response. Somehow,
Yuffie couldn't help but believe in his words.
Those same lips once spoke of things that shattered her heart, yet it
was the same ones that pieced it back together.
His smirk grew even wider, baffling the woman in front of him. "Sugar, look." He picked up the last sheet and presented it
to her.
Yuffie stared at the last few measures.
They remained blank, untouched.
No rests, no notes, nothing. Just staffs.
"The only reason you didn't know how to continue was because your mother never
taught it to you nor did she finish composing it," comforted Reno.
But her mind no longer reflected the music, her father, or even her
mother. Instead, she wondered about how
amazing Reno was. Just when Yuffie thought she understood him
even to the most unfathomable crevice in his personality, he would prove her
wrong just as he did today.
And during the darkest time of her life, when she felt more unsure and
incompetent than ever, a starry light appeared and grew brighter. Actually, it had always been there. Yuffie was just blinded by the darkness and
failed to realize it. But the speckle
fought and lighted the core of her heart.
Suddenly, it dawned on her.
The light was Reno.
.fin.
Author's Notes
–
Another utterly sappy Reno/Yuffie ending by yours truly. If any of you found the beginning good, I'm
sure you were all bombarded by disappointment at the end. Ah well, you can't blame me, really. I was inspired, yet it is now 6:22 in the morning and I haven't slept at
all. Yes, I could have ignored my
shrieking muse and gone to sleep. But
who knows when it will strike again. I
shall rewrite the end when a better one comes to mind. As for the grammar errors, I'm sure you'll
find plenty. You'll have to excuse them,
though. I promise I'll revise it
soon. Also, a thank
you to Ashley for elaborating a bit on the piano for me.
© Jennifer, Aug. 18, 02