By Word of Mouth,

By Ealinesse

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DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of the Final Fantasy series - characters, items, ideas, nothing. I do not claim to. The only characters I do own, are not even in the story yet, though I do claim right to them when they pop up.

WARNINGS: Maybe a little language.

FEEDBACK: Yes please! Reviews are always welcome ^_^

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story should be hotting up very soon - in the next chapter or so, and you'll get some answers to questions. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter Nine: Seek and You Shall Find...

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The acrid smell from when he first walked into the office was enough to tell Reno that this was going to make for a very interesting day. Not only that, but the state of the Parole Administration Block was good enough to convince him of that, if at all he had felt any doubt upon the first fact. He himself might like to keep his files on the floor where he didn't have to deal with them, but Reno highly doubted other people would.

Reno sighed and stepped briefly outside to get some fresh air, then moved quickly back in to avoid the public eye. He did a quick once-over, checking everything. No body, no blood - only a lot of papers scattered everywhere. He didn't even need to look to find that the monitoring console, attached directly to Carlos's tracker-chain, was in pieces. The man was gone, that was all there was to it.

He wished he could come to the conclusion that his nose was fooling him into believing that there was a dead person somewhere here, but he knew for a fact that there were two more rooms to search. And the smell was only getting stronger. Avoiding the papers for the moment Reno made note to check the records later, for nothing else seemed to be misplaced but a filing cabinet that looked to be about a metre away from its old resting place. Stepping with light feet over the haphazard papers, Reno turned to the right from the entrance and moved down a small corridor, quickly reaching the door at the end. Counting to three in his head, Reno swung open the door with one arm, gun poised ready in the other, but was met with nothing other than a tidy office, which was basked with the bright natural light of the morning.

"Two down, one to go," he muttered, inside knowing just what the third room would bring. He crept back the way he had been going, scowling as his feet crunched and crackled on the papers he had been trying so hard to avoid destroying.

He reached the other office quickly and outstretched his arm for the door handle, frowning. The smell only got stronger and he held his breath, allowing himself the uncommon luxury of readying himself for the sight - something he would never do if other people were around. The door almost seemed to open itself of its own accord as the Turk stepped back. He turned away quickly, his cool, open mask of indifference gone. He holstered his gun as he pulled his shirt collar up over his mouth. Taking a second to look around the 'tidier' room, he turned back, breathing heavily at the accumulated stench. He didn't know how long the body had been in there, but it's cause of death was more than evident. Blood loss, for sure.

"Well, I guess that explains the lack of communication between us," Reno sighed, surveying the bloody area with disdain. The storeroom, once a uniform white, was strewn in vivid streaks of red. Like in the main office countless paper files were scattered everywhere. Cabinets surrounding the speckled walls - locked ones - had been bashed open, most likely by the culprit trying to get what was inside. The floor was badly stained, the walls less so. In the middle of it all was the man who Reno had met many times, who had been a loyal consultant and aide to the new Shinra for its short, three-year life.

'Not anymore,' Reno thought. He grimaced at the sight and turned back to the office, running a hand through his hair. To take his mind off the image of the body he began searching the files, leaving the dead man there, untouched, for evidence. As an employee of Shinra he would have been blind not to know what kind of files they kept in offices such as this. He knew of their importance to the officers, and his company, and to the people who held them. But what would anyone else want with them? He almost certainly knew that this was directly related to Carlos.

It took Reno the better part of an hour to sort out what was missing, and that which didn't turn up confused him even more. He made up a quick list and double-checked it, thinking of what should be where in the office. Everything was there except for Wutai's parole folder. Reno winced. That folder contained explicit data of criminals released in the area, including their current whereabouts. If Carlos had somehow gotten his hands on the folder and created an agenda worthy of them, then…

Reno frowned. He wouldn't get any more answers here.

Reno had a feeling of utter deja vu when he walked into the small, inconspicuous office on the other side of town. The smell was the same, and so was the sight, though the body wasn't so well hidden.

"Just great," he muttered, his tone sour. This all boded for a hell of a lot more work on his part.

Despite his words, he really wasn't surprised. The body lay in a pool of its own blood, lying bonelessly in it's chair, it's arms draped lifelessly over the sides, useless and quite dead. Again the cause of death was abundantly clear. He looked up, noting that the curtains behind the man were pulled, and the office room was quite dark as the early morning sunlight was withheld from it.

For the second time that morning Reno began another search, more than depressed about the amount of time he was spending examining paperwork. It was something he liked to avoid under most circumstances, and he usually did it only when necessary. Right now was one such situation, but if it helped him solve the puzzle that Carlos had recklessly left for him, then so be it. Just as long as Rude and Elena didn't catch him doing so. That would be a true disaster.

This time the Turk found nothing missing, and he quickly headed back through the streets after listing what was located there. He dropped in on the Police Station, and found no one there, which surprised him. He thought nothing of it and instead left a brief note, hoping that they wouldn't take it too cryptically. They knew who he was, at any rate. He had made sure of that on his last visit.

With nothing much left to do Reno wandered the streets. He was due to start his watch tonight, but still didn't know where Carlos was residing. Nor would he unless he did something about it. Grabbing some food from a stall Reno headed back to where he'd last seen Carlos yesterday, hoping against hope that he'd find some trace of the man, even though in a rapidly growing city such as Wutai the chances were rather slim.

Roughly two hours, four coffees and one bottle of beer later Reno thanked whatever god there was in heaven for the size of the man he was to be following. He hadn't noticed him at first but quickly spotted him in the lunchtime rush as he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. He immediately picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and dissolved into the crowd after him, his eyes rooted to the back of the man's head.

It didn't take long for him to lose him. Yesterday, even though it had been busy, the crowds hadn't quite been so packed. Carlos was gone, and no matter how crowd surfing he was going to do was going to get him back. But he had spotted the man here twice in the past twenty-four hours, and that was good enough for him.

Reno took a seat and began waiting, knowing imminently that this was going to make for one very long day.

* * * * *

Reno sat back in his temporary seat, his dark glasses hiding any expression in his eyes. He'd found the man twice, only to have him double back on him and return quickly in the direction he'd been going. He always lost him in a second set of buildings beyond the market; and tracking anyone in a crowd like this was like trying to navigate a labyrinth through molasses. In the end, about five minutes ago, he'd sat back on a park bench across the road and purchased a newspaper without really thinking, meaning to sit down and watch until Carlos came out again. There was a good chance he wouldn't be noticed, as the industrial area this time of day was bustling with activity.

An hour later he still hadn't spotted anything, and he was sure that he'd missed about as much. Looking to the sky, Reno sighed as it began to cloud. He folded the newspaper and shoved it under his arm.

"Absolutely fucking nothing," he muttered. Perhaps it was high time he headed back to his room. He would try tonight, perhaps, and sneak around the area in the dark where no one would see him people like Carlos would look more out of place. Perhaps then, he would find something.

After a full day's work, Reno began to scavenge through his bag for something to eat, his eyes diverted from the paths even though he knew exactly where he was going. This was why he never noticed what was coming his way until it was too late.

"Hey!"

The Turk stumbled backwards and dropped his newspaper. It fell to the paved ground with a thud, but it was the least of his worries. He looked up into the wide eyes of a young man, his glasses hiding his look of displeasure. He was about to say something when arrogant when he realised he'd seen this man before.

Reno frowned. "I know you."

The man seemed to gulp and bumbled a quick apology before turning away. Reno sped forward and grabbed onto his sleeve before he could make a break, and the shorter man struggled briefly before stopping. He gave in and looked up at the Turk, his eyes narrowed and frightened

"You're the guy that I cured in the back alley..."

"... Yeah."

Reno smirked, wondering why everything always happened when he was about to go home. "I don't believe you thanked me."

"I - who are you?"

Reno grinned at the man's clueless face and lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head, adopting a more feral, icy look. His cool, Mako eyes glinted in the cooling afternoon sun - quite deliberately on his part - but the vivid colour of them was more than enough to hint at his identity. No normal person had eyes like that.

Reno's grin widened at the recognition in the man's eyes. "You're Shinra? Wh-what do you want with me?"

"That man who beat you yesterday... you know him?"

"Yeah." The Turk followed the man's eyes round and took a second to analyse him. He certainly looked better than he had yesterday, but a sheen of barely visible sweat clung to his forehead and upper lip. His mop of dark hair was unkempt and dreading. He looked unshaven, pale, like he hadn't showered in a while. Jittery, his pale hands wrung tightly together as his emerald eyes darted shiftily around the area, watching warily for something - or someone, Reno ascertained.

"You're nervous," Reno stated bluntly. There was no point beating around the bush. "Why?"

Suddenly the green eyes focussed, staring directly at him. They were serious, and very sane. "We can't talk here."

"Why not?" Reno's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

But he wasn't answered with anything other than a brief, "Follow me," before the man took off. Picking up the paper that he'd dropped the Turk followed, glad at least that although this man was rather slight, and a lot smaller, he was a lot easier to track than Carlos.

They pulled into an alley, and the man sunk onto an old garbage bag. Reno decided that the select location smelled almost as bad as the bodies he'd found this morning; but he didn't say anything. He was all-too interested with what this guy had to say for himself. Adopting a look of cold apathy, the Turk leaned against the cool stone-slate wall, ignoring the grime that it would no doubt rub onto his already rumpled suit.

"Who are you?"

The man ignored the question. "What do you want with me?"

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

Reno snickered. "Don't give me that shit... Carlos."

"H-how do - you only want to know where he is?"

Reno cocked his head to the side. "There's more that he's done, isn't there?"

"Well..."

"Tell me."

"I can't."

The redhead reached into his jacket and pulled his gun out from the shoulder holster, showing it only enough to the man so it was clearly evident what he held in his grasp. "Tell me."

"I told you... I c-can't. He'll kill me."

"Just like he beat you yesterday?" Reno snickered. "I'll save him the favour and do it right now if you don't tell me what's going on. Nobody would even know..." He left the threat hanging and leaned back, raising his chin in a semi-snarl.

"I - no!" Suddenly, the man bolted. He darted out of Reno's reach, too quickly for the Turk to follow. The next thing he knew, Reno was speeding out of the alley, chasing the man, this time unconcerned what others thought of what he was doing. He needed that information. But it was too late. The man was gone - around the corner and out of sight as quickly as he'd appeared. Any hopes he'd had of doing things the easy ways disappeared with the man.

Gone, just like that.

"The story of my life," Reno muttered under his breath, before heading back to Carlos's last-known location. Putting his midnight glasses back on to cover his eyes he scowled and stepped back out into the recovering sunlight. "Ah well. Back to doing things the hard way, I guess."

* * * * *

It was dusk and so far he'd found nothing. Again. Roughly, that translated as zip, zilch, zero, and nada.

"Well that solves what I'll be doing tonight." Reno stood from his seated position and stretched his long limbs, letting out a relieved sigh. In a way he'd been kind of glad that he'd been unable to locate the man. His muscles had needed the rest; he still felt slightly achy from the past few days and would have been grateful for a sleep in. Although that hadn't entirely happened, Reno felt relaxed, and more than rested.

Checking the sky for signs of drizzle, which had come and gone as quickly as the mysterious stranger, he was relieved to find the air clearing, and although the wind was icy, the sun could be seen from behind a thin sheet of white cloud. Rubbing his neck the Turk turned and left, looking forward to nothing more than a cold beer.

He waved down a cab on the street edge and was soon back at the local Inn. Acknowledging the receptionist with a brief grin, Reno topped the stairs to the second storey, and rummaged through his bag for the key to his room. He stepped inside, relishing the differing wave of warmth. But those comforting thoughts lasted only a few seconds, before he felt something under foot, which definitely wasn't carpet. He looked down and frowned at the piece of paper on the floor. It was out of place in such a strictly uniform room, and the Turk could have sworn that it hadn't been there before.

Crouching, Reno negligently closed the door behind him with an eblow, and didn't spare it a second glance, instead skim-reading what he now made out to be a note.

'12th Back alley, Building Two. 17:45. Be out of sight or I cannot guarantee your safety..'

Reno stood and looked around, suddenly intensely aware of the silence around him. His vivid eyes scanned the room but came up with nothing more than what he'd first found. He looked back, and frowned. The door had been locked when he entered, so the message could have been thrust under the door. It obviously hadn't been tampered with. Reno tugged at his lip in thought. He had no doubt of who had given him the note, but how could the mysterious man have known his room, or his location? He'd only seen him for the first time yesterday, and had had nothing to do with him otherwise.

Had he been being followed yesterday and not noticed? Was this man the only one who knew his location?

Reno shivered with a sudden chill, chafing his arms as he pocketed the note, although the room was really quite warm. He needed to find out just what was going on in Wutai, but didn't like how all of a sudden he was drawn into the scheme of things. Being noticed was not something Reno liked, especially on a case where he was supposed to remain more than inconspicuous. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and downed it quickly, soon onto a second. Thinking hard, he tried to foresee what would happen in the next few days, but all of a sudden, things weren't looking so straightforward after all.

No longer did this appear to be a simple surveillance mission.

But one thing was clear: he would go to the location tonight. He would stop and check things out in the alley, and he would find out what was going on.

He only hoped Reeve knew just how much shit he was most likely to get himself into.

* * * * *

Yuffie stared out at the dark of the night, glad that the forest green cloak she wore withheld at least some of the cold. She squared her shoulders as she thought of what was to come, and readjusted the expensive bags in her grip, taking a moment to rub the sweat from her palms. Resettling her hood, she moved onward, avoiding eyes and ignoring anyone she should come into contact with. She kept her face carefully neutral as she stuck like glue to the rarity of shadow, hoping no one spotted her face when she had no choice but to cross into the light.

Eventually, she reached the location where she had been last night, but instead of stopping she moved a short distance further - to the 8th Back Alley. She noticed that this time, the nameless kidnapper was drawing her further into the alley, away from the safe beacon of the streetlights. Here she had no need to worry about other people, for where she was moving to was quite commonly devoid of anything but rats. Nothing could cover the alley's smell, or its mess.

Again, she reached the place before the man - or assumed that she did, seeing as there was no sign of him. No longer caring about the foul fetor of the back-route, she sat down on a rotting rubbish bag, although she couldn't withhold a wince as she felt the squish of god-only-knew-what through the plastic against her hand.

Yuffie shuddered as a brief chill ran down her spine, and she pulled the cloak closer, abandoning the sacks and shoving her hands into her pockets for a moment of warmth. Her icy hand closed around the man's latest note, and she scowled, bringing it out to where she could see it. The faint outline of the text blurred together in a bout of general confusion as the moon struggled to illuminate the thin paper, but she knew the exact location of each and every word, space, and letter. The ninja ran her finger over where she knew her father's name to be and smiled, bowing her head. The note said she'd see proof that her father was alive, tonight. Did that mean she'd meet him here?

Yuffie didn't know what she had expected. But the solo man, by himself at the head of the alley, with nothing other than his balaclava and dark vest was not it. Yuffie stood abruptly, pushing aside her nervousness and diappointment and grabbed at the bags.

"Where's my father?"

"Now, now. There's plenty of time for that. First, the money."

"Where-"

"The money, or no go."

The ninja scowled and looked down at the heavy bags in her hands. She clutched them to her chest and frowned up at the man under her growing fringe, her hazel eyes narrowed, annoyed. She watched as the knife came out, and then offered the money. He took it, and again sorted it thoroughly, in the end seemingly contented that she hadn't cheated him.

"Good." His thin lips - or what Yuffie could actually see of them - twisted into a grotesque smile, and his white teeth were instantly illuminated in the moonlight.

"Where's my-"

"The first location was a test."

Yuffie drew back, confused.

"You passed, by the way. You get this." The man suddenly snatched something from inside his vest, and Yuffie ducked as it sailed toward her, unsure. This antic brought a harsh laugh from the large man, and she cursed her weakness.

"Are you not going to pick it up?"

She did so, but cautiously. Feeling damp cloth against her fingers her lips pursed in confusion. "What would I want with this?"

"You don't recognise it?"

Yuffie lifted her arms and cocked her head to the side, trying to examine what it was. An ingrained kink was worn into the thin sheet, and she pressed her fingers against it. There was another at the other end. Unsure, she looked to the man, who was quite clearly more than a little amused. She raised it higher into the air and finally caught a glint of gun-metal grey ingrained with a deep green. A round embroidered emblem stood out clearly on the silken fabric, and she craned her neck to look closer.

Recognition shone in her eyes as she took in the symbols that represented the Five Gods. She whipped around to face the criminal. "My father's sash!"

"Clever girl." The voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Why do you have this? Where is my father!"

The criminal leaned forward, his revealed eyes intense. "Think."

"I..."

"Your father is from a long generation of proud ninja. Am I correct?"

"Yes, but-"

"What does a ninja's sash mean to him?"

Yuffie bit her lip, suddenly thoughtful.

Never forget, Yuffie, that a ninja's sash is its very existence…

She fiddled with the ornate fabric in her hands, wrapping it around her palms. "It is his mind, and power. My father would never take this off-"

"Exactly! Without this sash, your father does not exist. He is not a ninja, not anything. His rights are taken away, by your law. He is no longer a warrior-"

It is his very embodiment. Never lose this, Yuffie, it was your mother's…

"You're lying. He would not take this off willingly - for anyone." Just then, she felt something odd, and examined the cincture closer. Any outrage she had previously felt at his deception was replaced by fear. "There's blood on this!"

"Not to worry. He got a little bit frisky, we had to hit him over the head." His face contorted into a wince, though there was no sympathy in the gaze. "Made an awful mess..."

Yuffie felt her blood run cold, and she swallowed back a gulp. "You're lying. He's dead."

The man's eyes flashed. "You would accuse me of killing him so early?"

"Obviously. If you kidnap a man you have no concern for his wellbeing."

"Then you don't know how this is little game is going to work at all, do you."

Yuffie felt a firm pool of dread settle in the pit of her stomach. "What do you mean?"

But it was too late and the man began to walk away, uncaring of whether he had left an opponent alive behind him. Not that it mattered much anyway.

"Hey," she called. "What do you mean?"

He turned abruptly, spinning on his heel and throwing something too fast for her to see. It whizzed past her ear and struck the crumbly alley wall behind her with a loud clang, before falling noisily to the mucky concrete ground.

"Don't piss me off, girl. You don't know what you're messing with."

Yuffie tried hard to catch her breath, but found herself shaking despite her trained reflexes. That shot was something she had not been ready for. She covered it up with, "That was a narrow miss."

She clearly heard the man mutter, "And a miss it was..." before he left.

Turning, Yuffie collected and examined the knife in the dim glow of the pale moon. In that light, it looked completely unremarkable, but she knew the proud engravings that ran down the blade like the back of her hand. She knew the end of the palm-size hilt, and the small compartment it contained. She also knew whose it was.

She was about to holster her father's weapon when something rattled, and she loosened the end. Unsure of what the inside object was, she walked out of the alleyway and into the streetlight. Her heart sank, and her anger rose again. It was paper... another note.

Sitting down on a nearby park bench, the ninja narrowed her eyes to stop the tears. He had tricked her, and in the end made her both hopeful and curious at the same time. She had made a mistake by getting him angry. Looking down at the thin parchment settled on her lap, she put her head in her hands. How long was this going to go on? How long could one pay someone before the novelty wore off? Was her father still alive? Was it at all plausible for her, a leader of a nation of the moment, to continue to think so?

Tell me, Yuffie. Why again, did you fail? You need to learn from your mistakes, and the opportunities they offer.

Yuffie squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, gratified that the hood hid her identity and grief from the curious eyes just out of her reach. Dazedly, she knew the answers to all of those questions, but also knew she did not want to accept them. She wasn't ready for the answers yet. Accepting them answers meant embracing the likelihood of her father's death....

And her weakness.

…Tell me, young one, why did you fail again?

She scowled. Had she not told herself she would be strong tonight? Had she not said she wouldn't fail? She still had found out nothing! With a bitter last look back at the alleyway, Yuffie stood and hurriedly headed back to her home, the beginnings of an idea forming in her head.

Tomorrow would have to make up for it all, and with some help, she imagined she knew just how...

* * * * *