Blood Feast

Chapter 3: Intermission

Yatsui, with all his unwarranted friendliness, invited Vincent to sit down with him in his room at the inn. Though still holding true to his shaky suspicions about the man, he took up the invitation and trailed him through town for ulterior reasons of finding out Yatsui's true nature, as well as whatever other agendas he might be hiding.

"This town is very quaint and the scenery is quite beautiful. Yet sad," said Yatsui as he climbed the stairs to the second floor of the establishment. Vincent warily followed suit, silent and contemplative on the character of the man that came to his aid—unwanted, uncalled for, unneeded as it was. Why was he even here in Nibelheim to begin with? Nibelheim, of all places? If he came here specifically to save me from monsters, he mused with a scowl, then blessed I be by the goddess of good fortune. Or cursed by tricksters plotting a dark comedy in my future, whom I'd sooner put a bullet through.

Vincent scoffed at himself for failing to understand, or rather glossing over something he'd yet to uncover.

"Oh, I had nearly forgotten. Something for you, Vincent Valentine," said the man. Upon entry into the inn's spacious upper floor suite, Yatsui walked over to the bed nearest the doorway, its bedclothes crisp, clean, and made, where on it laid none other than…

Death Penalty.

Vincent's eyes went wide in mild stupefaction that he would find his cherished weapon here, after being disarmed of it earlier. As if coaxed by some cooing spirit, he stalked towards the bed, scooped it up and gave it a once over. The barrels were still loaded, but the safety, on.

"My gun. How did it get here?"

"It seemed to me like it could have meant a great deal to you. So I took it upon myself to bring your weapon back from that basement, to reunite you," Yatsui explained, strolling over to the window, drawing the curtains far apart to wash the room in thin, mellow sunbeams.

"You…" Vincent rotated to where the unusual creature stood poised and thoughtful by the window.

"Hm? Are you not pleased?"

"I can be nothing but pleased," he voiced sedately. "But when? I was behind you the entire ti-"

"Pardon?" Yatsui cocked his head sideways in curiosity, just as a child would, but his blank expression was nowhere near childlike. It was a mask for something beyond any human comprehension. Because of those eyes, that they were as glass when everything else about his face was opaque instead, like the finest salt.

"Why don't you have a seat, right over there?" Vincent suggested, stabbing a thumb at the lone table in the room's center. "I have questions. They need answers. Let's start with: What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me, why did you think I needed help and how did you pull your little trick with"– he pointed Death Penalty at Yatsui's feet— "grabbing my gun when I wasn't looking? Huh?"

"Please, please, so many questions," Yatsui chuckled jovially. "Like a child you are, betraying your dark and mature exterior."

"Look, you can answer my questions or you can-"

"You expect me to answer when I know nothing of you in turn?" Yatsui tapped his chin in mock deliberation, his eyes flashing with something somewhat cryptic, sly. "I propose a friendly trade of information. Tell me about yourself and I might reveal something of mine. I enjoy making acquaintances of the people that I meet."

The gunman colored himself unimpressed; if anything, this man's politeness was a mite offensive. Condescending. He struggled not to visibly bristle with annoyance.

"Mm, aha. Tell me, if you will. What is the reason for that claw? I admit it has captured my eye for quite some time now."

Vincent glanced down at his left arm, which had long been encased inside this manmade contraption of alloy, rivets and bolts, and who knew what else. The symbol of his bloodstained past and sins, his dark second nature, the monsters lying beneath his skin. Why get to know this? It was a humiliating, sobering piece of his tragic history, one he hoped to bury at last someday, somehow. It wasn't ammo for shooting the breeze with perfect strangers.

"Your eyes," Yatsui said. His voice sounded so close, that was until Vincent realized that he was standing right before him. That fragrant scent that the man exuded invaded his senses, curled about his thoughts like snakes unseen, settled a veiled feeling of something he didn't like but couldn't identify upon him. He inched away from Yatsui to escape that damned aroma and the befuddlement it enforced.

"What about?" he asked, turning a cold shoulder.

"Sir, you bear a heavy weight on that shoulder, no? On both of them. Hm. And the rare crimson hue in your eyes. That is not typical of man. They are weary, bleak, guilty. Is that not right?"

Vincent frowned. "I didn't ask you."

"But you did. And yet, my sincerest apologies if I make you uncomfortable, if I am broaching too deeply." Yatsui bent slowly at the waist.

"Excuse me when I say I don't believe you," Vincent rebuked with a deceptively kind nod at the top of the man's head. "I don't take kindly to assumptions. Whatever guilt you think I harbor, or weariness or anything of that sort, you don't know the half of it. Not even a hint."

"Spare me a hint? There is poetry here. I can see it; it is a symbol. In fact, you are practically a string of them.

"May I share something with you? I have a symbol, as well, Vincent Valentine, but I do not know if it can be likened to yours. It has been with me for as long as I can remember, but…" The pale man clenched a fist and held it to his chest, thumb nestled against his sternum, his stance mimicking some warrior saint in prayer, a bizarre gesture but not entirely unexpected coming from him. "It is very personal."

Vincent deigned to silence.

Yatsui fell into a long, unnerving pause, a pause that cleft the air for what felt like an eternity and beyond, sucking any and all sound into the small vacuum. Finally, the man sighed, breaking the hush he had let settle.

"Well, do pardon me for that, Vincent Valentine-"

"Unnecessary," Vincent remarked.

"Yes… But please, please, tell me now about the past behind your claw, your symbol of many. I promise rapture in listening to your explanation, yes?" Yatsui nodded, hopeful.

"That's classified information. Sorry if that's not what you want to hear," Vincent told him with a dismissive wave of his golden claw.

"What a shame." Yatsui held an elbow in one hand and tapped his temple with two fingers of the other. "It cannot be helped, can it? Ah but there are, after all, more important things, are there not?"

"Yes, there are."

From Sixth circa 2003: This seemed like what they call a filler chapter. I dunno… Oh, and, dear Sarene, I do give credit where it is due. I know Vincent's plenty strong. Maybe I was just trying to show what Yatsui what can do or something or other. Yeah, that's it; I was making leeway for Yatsui's strength. Don't worry, Vincent'll definitely sound stronger in chapters to come. Because, there's always his transformations and putting in materia for him to use and whatnot and blah blah blah. I still have a ways to go with this story. To be continued…