Author's Note: May I first point out that this story has NO relation with the Steven Spielberg movie 'AI', depsite the theme's similarity. This was actually an idea I had thought about long before the movie was made. And with great thanks to Kittie I've finally been able to get this story under way. But I will admit that I got a little inspiration from the anime series 'Key The Metal Idol'.

Kittie, thank you so much again for spending time to write this fic with me. Let's hope we can both pull through this together! ^_^

Introduction

Artificial: Made or contrived by art; produced or modified by human skill and labor, in opposition to natural.

Intelligence: The act or state of knowing; the exercise of the understanding.

The Planet is a world where mankind could walk and explore life's wonders. It is a world where one has to learn how to survive, and it was a world where it was once peaceful. For at one year, a deadly plague had unexpectedly struck the people, a plague carried upon by rats from the citys' sewers that had spread all across the world. Slowly, they were able to infect everyone and everything with their disease. It being so severe, so contagious, that half of the population fell into unpleasant deaths. Animals, plants and humans died one after another, uncontrollably. Towns became deserted and forever lost. Cities grew more concerned about this matter. The death toll rose fast, and mankind's only hope was to find a single cure to end this chaos.

Then, after a year of hard struggle, a remedy was finally found by a man named Dr. Hojo. At last lives were saved and people found the salvation they had dreamed for, yet it helped nothing to truly heal the scars that the plague had made. Thus, came the next step of world technology: the Age of Machines.

Thanks to the intelligence of the Shinra Corporation, mechanical machines were created throughout the Planet. They were programmed to be obedient, loyal and not rebellious, with only a sole purpose in life: to serve their human masters. There had been no machine ever designed that could realize the morals of birth, life and death. They were made as heartless beings that could not experience how humans thought.

The Shinra and many people had claimed it to be impossible to create an intelligent robot. For they knew that even the most sophisticated robotic invention couldn't acquire human-like emotions and understanding in any way. But there are times that even the unthinkable can happen.

This is a story about a robot, the first and rarest robot ever inherited with the ability to have feelings…

Artificial Intelligence

By Charles Xavier And Kittie

A faint slant of light filled the slate-grey room with an impending sense of dissolution. Opposed to most rooms of its extravagant size, this one seemed more sinister, ominous. The silence drowned out any opposition, even the faint echo of a sigh.

The neutral floor tiles complemented the cold atmosphere. Statues of godlike titans resided within the four corners of the room, each with a distinctive motif. The chiseled beings contrasted the room's bland colours. Jade, sapphire, agate, and brimstone were carefully molded down with accurate precision-the bestial qualities captured within the frigid stone.

Frosted lamplights hung in two parallel rows, the meticulous pattern satisfying the average symmetrical fanatic. The dull illumination did little to chase away the shadows lurking throughout the mute office. Darkness, it seemed, had the upper hand within the congested space, damning all illuminate.

The drab setting with its abstract sense of style was truly daunting to the average human mind. On the other hand, it was proficient for the occupants within its silent space. Men dressed in formal business suits, all matching in the same dull charcoal-grey, sat silently in the leather-bound seats. Their conformity with clothing was not the only physical similarity. Most donned the same lackluster visage of indifference-their hollow eyes not reflecting a fragment of concern.

Their silent stares lay upon the being in front of them. Like an apathetic jury, they dissected the man before them with self-righteous indignation. Truly, one who had transgressed against their employer as this poor, deluded insect had would surely be dealt with this time.

Whatever their comparison in thoughts, it was not their place to cast a verdict. No, that was their beloved president's duty. Like an unexpected ripple upon a peaceful pond, their gazes turned to the man at the center of the table.

Dressed in a lighter shade of grey, the president was the only life form that stood out within the monotonous room. From the boyish façade he maintained, to the childlike grin upon his ashen face, Rufus Shinra, son of the late president, held the attention of all with the impatient tapping of his fingers.

A pallid hand rested under the slender chin as another snort of boredom escaped him. Devil-incarnate suited the young leader's physical attributes. With his golden mane sleeked back in today's ideal of masculine beauty, the steely-eyes of fathomless azure complemented his prone nature.

"Your meandering drollery certainly has an inopportune effect, Reeve." The deep, masculine voice teased with cool alacrity. "Perhaps your hesitation will get somewhere before the evening is out?"

The cool air teased his sweaty palms as he stood a shy ten feet away from his president. Reeve lowered his eyes to the tiled floor, the smooth grey surface not giving him the comfort he needed. The informant mutely shook his head in an uncertain manner, as unruly strands of sable covered his obsidian gaze.

It was damned annoying when his hair would obscure his poor sight, even when greased into a sleek fashion that women bowled over. However, his homely appearance was not the concerning topic for the moment—a very pissed off president was.

"Many apologies, President, but I have only come across this discovery lately. I found it important to investigate the circumstances behind the matter before acting upon it." He risked a glance at his irate benefactor, and quickly added, "Just to be certain the company does not undergo an unnecessary pursuit."

A blonde brow rose in suspicion. "Circumstances?" He questioned with mock-concern. "Then do tell us," he nodded to the rest of the company officials. "I'm sure this will be rather interesting, my good man."

"Shinra has led many private operations over the years, most from the fields of Science and Technology. The company has acquired many new developments within these areas." He gestured toward the table, harbouring numerous sets of equipment.

"The development of Mako treatments for the Soldiers, and bodily enhancements has placed Shinra upon the map of industry. The growing monopolies the company has accumulated over the years have forced rival competitors into extinction. Shinra—"

"Is this going somewhere in that round-about speech of yours, Reeve?" The president asked with minute indifference. "I grow tired of this unending babble! Get to the bloody point, if you please?"

A strained muscle appeared at the older man's temple. "Very well, sir." He added curtly. "Do you remember the project over artificial intelligence?"

The young leader's blue gaze gleamed with equivocal remembrance. "Vaguely."

"We had aid from overseas, Wutai to be exact."

"Oh, that province east of here, I remember now. A certain doctor was supposed to aid the Science Department with a special chemical for machines." His impenetrable gaze gave no hint of enthusiasm. "I closed the project after my father unfortunately passed away."

Reeve did not comment upon the death of the former President Shinra—the condition of the body still held question of an actual suicide. Instead, he nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir. However, I have been recently informed that the project still proceeded after your closing. It seems that there was a breakthrough in the experiment, and that it has been purposely hidden from the company." He turned his tense gaze to the floor, hoping to evade the inquiry within his employer's eyes.

"And you have sent emissaries to secretly investigate the good doctor?" A brief smile replaced the frown. "And to think, I believed you incapable to act so professionally, Reeve! Please, consider my humblest apologies. It seems I misjudged you upon your capability of spying upon former employees." He paused for a moment, waiting to see the strand of sweat fall from his informant's temple. "So, what did you find out? The man has created some kind of scientific wonder?"

A new sense of vigor filled him as he boldly eyed his employer. "Indeed, sir. Actually, 'scientific wonder' would be putting it mildly." A small grin replaced the grimace. "For the past seventeen years, Godo Kisaragi has been covertly working on a project dealing with artificial intelligence. The brief information I have over his operations suggests that he has created a new chemical that can actually give a machine the ability to think and act without the aid of humans.

"This advancement certainly places our company behind his genius in the scientific field. I fear that the 'good doctor' will not allow any outside intervention with his work, not even his past employers." Reeve shook his head in visible uncertainty. "I understand this information could be nothing more than mere false interpretation, but what if it's not?"

The blonde president gave no indication of worry or interest. Instead, a small, childlike smile touched his lips. "If what you say is true, Reeve, then Doctor Kisaragi's enigmatic venture should be unveiled." Lust gleamed within his azure eyes. "It is very selfish of him to keep his generous, former employers in ignorance."

Rufus' icy gaze penetrated the invisible steel barrier between he and his loyal informant. His right hand casually dusted away a stray golden lock, the absent-minded gesture intended to unnerve the man standing precariously in front of him. A jaded sigh escaped him when he finally broke the lingering silence. "If it will appease you, Reeve, I'll send someone to investigate."

"But I already—"

Rufus interjected with a raised hand. "Reeve, Reeve," he chided in a paternal tone. "I want this examined personally. Do not worry your pretty little head, your president has not lost his mind—yet." A mock grin traced his lips.

Turning his attention away from the man sputtering before him, he idly pressed a button upon the inactive receiver. "Scarlet, would you please contact the Turks, and have them sent to my office immediately."

"Reeve," the blonde-headed president eyed him with direct assurance, his visible poise convincing. "I believe Tseng and the others can take it from here. Trouble yourself no further, my friend."

Reeve held back a shudder as his employer watched him like a wolf lusting for its prey. The childlike gaze within the president's azure gaze held malice and something sinister, almost too macabre to place into words. What kind of sick pleasure did the young industry leader do after work, he wondered.

He subtly shook the thought from his conscience before turning to see the office door open. A dark-headed man—certainly of Wutainese descent—entered, followed by a large, robust man who sported a dark pair of sunglasses, and a baldhead. Two others followed their predecessors' suit. A lean, pale-faced male sporting fiery auburn hair, with a bent cigarette placed flaccidly behind his right ear, held the attention of a petite, blonde female. Their snide remarks about the other could be heard from Reeve's viewpoint.

"Tseng," Rufus greeted dryly. "It's good of you to come on such short notice."

The leader bowed respectfully. "Our services to you will always be of utmost importance, especially punctuality."

"Indeed. Anyway, I have called you and the others for a rather…unexpected investigation." He eyed him critically. "It has come to the company's attention that one of our former employees has actually withheld certain information after the close of a development project. His work—which was promoted by Shinra—has indeed been used against company regulations. I find it rather important that you examine this situation—but do it discreetly. I do not desire anyone aware of our investigation. I understand you and the others will conduct this matter inconspicuously, since that is your qualified profession. I want you to find out anything of relative importance that may be useful for our knowledge, and anything that isn't. Leave no information out, Tseng. I want a full report on my desk within two weeks. I believe that is plenty of time to accomplish this task?"

Tseng silently nodded. "Yes, sir. I will have everything to you within that time."

An impish smile melded his ashen lips. "Good. I know I can depend upon your services, Tseng. You may begin your assignment today." He waved them of, albeit rather carelessly. "Good luck. I do hope your investigation is successful."

With a curt nod, the leader of the Turks turned to his agents and silently beckoned them to follow. Shutting the door behind him, he muttered, "I suppose this delays our time asking for a few days off."

"Wutai, of places." The diminutive blonde said with disdain. "Tseng, why didn't you say something?" Her somber expression revealed disappointment.

"Elena, you forget your place," he reprimanded her, his obsidian eyes showing no remorse for the cool admonishment. "Rufus ShinRa and the company comes first—and above our personal lives. We must do as ordered, do you understand?"

What remained of her austere bravado was now gone, her fiery gaze silenced at its abrupt climax. "I understand," she muttered in a demure manner. "I apologize for my immature conduct and thoughtless wishes. It will not happen again, Tseng."

"Elena," he addressed in a gentler voice, the subtle apology revealing itself. "Listen, I only—"

"I know you were only going by 'The Code'. I understand that I should be reprimanded when I act of out-of-line. Thank you for reminding me where my place is." With this, she gave a curt nod of appreciation, and left them.

Tseng watched her retreating figure with dismay. A solemn sigh escaped him; his obsidian eyes cast to the floor in shame. He would never fully understand the wry mechanics of the feminine mind, nor would he ever discover what made them upset when it came to their welfare.

"Pay no mind to 'Lena, she'll take her anger out on a poor target dummy, and then be back to her old self." Reno assured him with a promising smile.

The Turk leader looked at him with false belief. "I somehow doubt she'll forgive me for being such an ass, Reno. She hates me with every fibre of her being, and all I wanted was to look out for her."

Reno clapped a hand on his leader's shoulder. "Ah, such is the way with the feminine mind—always an oddity." A slight chuckle escaped him. "Don't worry, she'll forget the entire matter, and be all over you again—though I cannot see why!"

"Edwards, you forget yourself." Tseng reminded him in an autocratic tone.

"Like I could forget?" Turning his attention to Rude, he muttered, "Come on, we need to leave our esteemed leader to more important matters—namely petite blondes and paperwork—while the joys of friendly, female company and alcohol call to us."

Ignoring his cocky comrade, Rude turned his shaded gaze to the agitated Turk. "Do you need our assistance with anything, Sir?"

"No," he said in an exasperated tone. "Go and enjoy yourselves—but not too much! We still have to depart for Wutai today. Please remember that we have to do this mission sober."

Reno gave Tseng another arrogant smile. "Humbly, Tseng. We won't let you down!"

Tseng watched his fellow Turks disappear down the corridor. "That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered to himself, and headed to his office to complete a stack of paperwork—and figure out the best way to approach a certain irate blonde. Odin, he needed more than charismatic grace to be on her good graces once more. Perhaps some subtle way of enjoyment would pull her out of her fuming mood.

It was worth a try.

****

Amber rays of sunlight melded with the darkening landscape. Ominous shadows filed out of the dark crevices where the persistent beams did not touch, as if proclaiming silent victory against their retreating foe. The dying serenity withdrew itself from the impending enemy, as if conducting a final effort to survive the darkness' relentless pursuit.

This battle was as old as time—the fiery dance between two opposing forces seeking solace and domination within the other always ended in an abrupt stalemate. Time was the referee within this age-old melee. Time, who set the rules and boundaries into motion since the beginning.

All elements had to abide by the rules their stoic benefactor provided. If not, such denial could not go unpunished. Life and Death even bent themselves to the indomitable element. How could a force stop something that was the basis of infinity, unending, forever? Nothing above a deity over all could force the tacit-turn being into its rightful place.

For millennia, many life forms coexisted with others, never breaking the critical cycle of life. It was natural to live and die, to breath the air, and adapt to a specific climate. The simplistic style of life was never questioned—it was merely the way things were, the way things were meant to be, and the way things would always be.

Whether by the will of divine intervention, or a cosmic accident, life endured. Adaptation was common, and evolution was a slow-moving process. Yes, the fragile structure of the world was concrete, stable. Until the age of humans.

However, the plight of humanity was of no concern to the elements, nor to idolized gods. The downfall of man would be by his own hand, not by a disease, or the wrath of Mother Nature. No, something more elite, more advanced would take the place of man; making humanity's stand against the universe obsolete.

The mysticism and ideologies of man would be forgotten in a torrent of time. As each year progressed, the inevitable fall of humanity was one step closer to the edge, the break-off within sight. The cries of injustice would be answered with a fair verdict: humankind would suffer as others had suffered. It was just a matter of time…

Detached, cerulean eyes stared into the sunny skies of the day. The day—like others before it—could be deemed beautiful. Well, by humanity's standards, anyway. It was rather unobtrusive to understand the logic behind the mind of a human. Not that it was any concern to others, of course. But, somehow it was semi-interesting to question the actions of such a primitive race.

The technological advances within the past century had proven that perhaps men where indeed masters of their own fate. Perhaps a divine authority could not dictate the mere life of a mortal, but stand aside and watch as its protégé destroyed itself. The comprehension behind one's fate to die in an accident, or fall victim to a murderer's knife, was justified only in the means of free will.

War and peace were mere concepts—conjectures—of the innate mind to justify the rights and actions of humanity. Laws preventing such misconduct were nothing more but words on paper. Man would always be a primitive creature with the lust and will to dominate all around him. World domination was truly man's weakness—the fault lay within such inescapable desires. Morality and the self-will of kindness were only myths of the naïve imagination. The idea of purity and civil conduct toward others for the greater good was nothing more than pitiful ideas of grandeur.

It was daunting to understand the fickle mind of man.

A cool sigh escaped her. This matter was too trivial and time consuming. And yet, it always intruded upon her logical thoughts. The condensed system of her mind was not modeled to question the abstract actions of others—it was meant be accepted.

Her colleagues were most likely wondering where she was this very moment. They're false concern was like a cool stab in the side—neither comforting nor assuring. If they questioned her abrupt disappearance, and shown the reluctant desire to search for her, they were welcome to look. However, it was unlikely their grand pursuit would be fruitful.

They would not consider the probability of her being above their brainless heads. Rooftops were very adequate places to hide from the inquisitive world. Besides, the human mind had its boundaries. Using a mere fraction of ten percent of an organic computer was such a waste. The myriad of possibilities the individual's brain had was endless.

If only one could unlock such a treasure…

Oh, well, it was not her concern, anyway. Actually, nothing within the educational system—taught by humans—was of any interest. She had the knowledge of someone thrice her age, or so her father proudly proclaimed.

Her emotionless façade did not alter from its stony visage. Emotions were trivial, human. However, the thoughts of her father were kinder than to those of a complete stranger. At least, he was interesting. The man who had guided her through this tedious life, shown more than what others had. It was as if there was some sort of bond between them. However, clichéd it might be.

The school alarm echoed its siren-like call, acknowledging the time for dismissal. She hesitated briefly, eyeing the serene atmosphere of the rocky hills within the distance. Nature was indeed beautiful, albeit a little out-of-date and primordial. It was still intriguing to observe life from an ascetic perspective.

She reserved an unneeded sigh and pulled herself from her lax position. Really, the cool, concrete surface of the school's roof was indeed comforting—better than sitting in a vertical position all day. The confinement within a metal desk chair tended to lose the appealing luster as time slowed to a crawl. Six hours in such a precarious position would bereft the most pious person.

Unfortunately, she could not claim such saintly behaviour. Nor would she try to. It was one thing to betray the iniquities of showing emotion, but quite another when committing the ultimate of blasphemy and displaying an out-of-character façade in front of others. People who felt so bloody insecure about their self should be dealt with, or at least hidden from view.

It was unattractive to see the harsh ruins society had made itself to be. True, humanity was at its perpetual climax, but the small, insignificant faux pas civilization created would inevitably fall into oblivion. Very soon the small cracks within the allegedly indestructible foundation would wear and crumble, leaving only fragments of what made it once so grand.

Shaking aside the cryptic evaluation, she made her way home.

****

Home. It was such a quaint little word. The definition was simply: where a person or family in a household live. Home. She could not admit that her lifestyle fit that definition.

Actually, the only people who were true residents of such a household were she and her father. Well, not including the servants and employees under them. If included, the number would rank with a lowly sum of thirteen—not counting the field hands and gardeners.

Although her father used to be involved with many arcane science projects, the love of the scientific world never ceased to amaze the middle-aged scientist, and would ultimately be his occupation until the end of his days. His passion, his dedication was noted within his work.

Lord Kisaragi, although not as affluent like his former employers, still maintained a small lap of luxury. At least he could offer her a decent education and a comfortable living space. That, in its self, was above most of the surrounding townspeople's lives.

Most were not so fortunate. The power-hungry companies from far away continents used Wutai's abundant lands as a testing ground. New technological advancements and ideas came off of an assembly line of genius. Many Wutainese residents watched as foreign hands built structures that held scientific instruments and know-how.

It was common knowledge that many weapons of destruction were assembled and shipped to other areas of the world. Where they went and their purpose was clearly confidential. The common residents spread unreliable gossip that there was more than research going on behind the enormous, steel double-doors. Something unnatural was behind them, waiting to destroy all within its path. Man could only go so far before its wondrous creation would destroy him.

Indifference filled her as she took another step. It did not matter if human testing was a normal occurrence within the ashen building. The only relief from such an ominous presence was that no one she knew worked for the furtive Shinra Industry.

Something akin to dismay filled her. She did not trust them. Nor did she have the desire to see if her inhibitions were correct. It was best to stay away and mind one's business. Besides, the company had never shown interest in her, or any of the citizens before. Why would they now?

They wouldn't. What did such a lowly, ignorant people know other than being a farming community? The rest of the world assumed the stereotyped profile of an uncivilized heathen tribe could never outmatch those with a better standard of life. Truly, the very thought of such a meager race overcoming the modern world was simply ludicrous.

She discarded the random thought the moment her father's ornate mansion came into focus. The pagoda's claret roof contrasted the darkly tented tope walls. Windows of stained glass absorbed the sun's radiant beams, giving the interior marble floors an artful sibilance of balance. Hoar-white stone slabs immersed itself with a myriad of colours, giving the observer a deep perception of the proprietor's household.

Statues of serpentine deities from myths loomed near the gate, as if warding off any unwelcome guests. The massive stone structures glared at her, vehemence showing within their obsidian eyes, as she silently passed them.

To the average mind, the immense statues would either awe or strike fear within their mortal hearts. It did not surprise her when new acquaintances of her father would reflect unease the moment they stepped through the threshhold. Truthfully, the sense of derision was a front the old scientist constructed to partially amuse, and wary his guests.

She did not see the reason in constructing such trivial notions of enjoyment. But, her father was notorious for his morose sense of humour. Not that it mattered to her. He would always have that peculiar glint of satisfaction within his eyes when his indulgence exceeded his expectations.

It was the way her father was, she supposed. The way he would always be: half serious, half repartee, and fully charismatic. His quick temper whenever something was amiss would dissipate the moment his mind found another subject to concern itself with. Actually, Lord Kisaragi rarely dwelled on anything disconcerting—he merely cast it aside.

Some believed his careless way of dealing with things through the wondrous technique of evasion would be his downfall. However, it was very doubtful he would fall because of his preference to procrastinate a problem. What the brainless people of Wutai—or rather, the world—did not know was he handled his problems and obligations by his artful manner.

By his evasion, he confused and berated his adversaries, bringing them to heel with ease. Godo Kisaragi was truly a genius of manipulation. He even outwitted his former employers with the skilled notion that he was a lunatic, and had the pleasure of being dismissed. Well, with a handsome paycheck for his loyal service. The idiots did not realize they allowed their best scientist get away with the knowledge others lacked. It was such a pity to lose such intellect.

Ah, well, it was for the better, she was certain. Had he remained, she would have never understood the alleged bond between parent and child. Not that she felt one, but at least it was a small assurance to know she had such contact when others were lucky to have a moment's recognition from their negligent parents.

Her cerulean gaze focused upon the wooden double doors. She hesitated, feeling a slight sense of disorder. It was somewhat odd to feel unease when she went through the same routine of coming home each day. However, today, something was different.

The corpulent door silently opened, revealing a space of darkness. Her sensitive eyes glared into the opaque void, as if sensing something wrong within the atmosphere. Of course, whatever dilemma lay within the soundless depths of the entrance, she would unveil its hidden secret.

The air was tranquil, placid. Inside the darkened corridor, she felt the stifled breeze trace her ashen cheeks, the short russet strands of hair cascaded against her face. Her acute hearing sensed nothing. Silence dominated the household as if harbouring an ill omen from its owner. The stillness troubled her. The Kisaragi residence was never this quiet.

Something was wrong; she could feel it.

"My lady, is that you?" A shaky female voice whispered within the darkness.

"Yes, Chekhov. Yuffie is here."

A staggered sigh of relief permeated through the cool air. "Thank the gods you've returned!"

"Where is father?" Yuffie questioned, not showing a fleck of concern within her smooth voice.

The striking of a match echoed throughout the silent hall. Chekhov carefully placed the fragile flame against an old candle. The dancing light reflected the middle-aged woman's wrinkles within its weak flames—a stray tear followed the solemn expression she obtained. "Oh, Miss Yuffie," she mumbled under jagged words, her speech revealing something dire.

"What is the matter?"

"He…he…that is to say…oh, darling, your father…Lord Godo…he's…dead." Chekhov wiped away a strand of tears. "Oh, my lady, I'm so sorry."

Yuffie revealed nothing as the old housekeeper cried before her. Question and disbelief filled her, as she sort through the cluttered information her middle-aged compatriot gave her. Her father was dead? How could such a thing be? This morning he appeared to be in perfect condition, his health rivaling that of a thirty-year-old.

How could death come to one so active? This was not logical. There had to be a mistake. Godo Kisaragi was not dead—he couldn't be.

"He left you this." Chekhov muttered, breaking her senseless denial. "He wanted you to play it the moment you arrived. He said he needed you to understand everything before he…"

The silent female placed a semi-comforting hand upon her servant. "Yuffie understands," she murmured with a slight edge of apathy.

Chekhov felt the icy flesh of her lady when she retrieved the tape. Nodding silently, she left the emotionless girl to her privacy. Whatever was on that tape, was her affair, not that of a middle-aged maid.

Yuffie glanced at the blank tape within her hand. So, Lord Godo's final request for her was to watch this tape. She would obey his wishes without question.

****

Sliding the tape within the recorder, she mechanically turned on the blank screen and watched the fuzzy image of her father appear. Her blue eyes observed the man upon the screen with a vacant expression; this was not her father. The man on the screen looked paler, emaciated. The proud, ramrod stature was lax and ghastly. His dark beard seemed greyer than it had been. But, most disturbing of all, the comforting glow within his eyes was gone—the hollow depths of obsidian were lackluster and empty, soulless.

She watched when he gasped for air, choking on blood as he so. His coughing bout ceased, and he turned his attention toward the screen. Yuffie felt as if he were staring at her with his intense eyes. "Yuffie," he began in his oh-so familiar tone.

"Yuffie, when you watch this tape, you will know that I am dead." He cast his eyes from the camera, as if in shame. Turning back, he quickly added, "Yuffie, you must know the cause of my death. The Turks—Shinra's private assassins—saw to my demise. I was lucky when they left me for dead, and my servants found me in time to record this final message." Another jagged breath escaped him.

"Yuffie, you must know some things that I've not told you; things I didn't want you to know." He hesitated, albeit briefly. "You are a robot—a machine—that I constructed seventeen years ago. Your body does not grow by itself. Every year, I assemble a new one to replace the other, so nothing seems out of place. I am able to transfer all of your recorded memories and data with ease."

"Your blood is not an average human's, my dear. It is a special blend that I have created. No one other than myself has this unique concoction. People—dangerous people—would kill to have even a drop of its contents, Yuffie." He spoke gravely. "These people saw to my end since I refused to give over this creation. The truth is, I couldn't. I couldn't give up something that I made especially for my daughter."

"Yuffie, I understand this is rather hard for you to accept. And I am a damned fool for keeping this secret from you. I just did not know how to break this to you. I planned on telling you when you reached a certain age, but even then, I couldn't."

"I know that you will probably never forgive me for my recklessness, but I wanted to believe that you were my daughter—my real daughter. And so that is what you shall become—what you must become. You have to become a real girl in order to survive."

"That means overcoming the thoughts and ideologies of your mechanical nature. I never considered the consequences of not storing true, human emotions within your system, and that is my failure as a scientist—and father."

"Becoming human will be a hard task, but you must, Yuffie." Another gasp escaped him. "I have researched a plausible way, and have found it. In order for you to accomplish this, you must find the means to love another human being. However, that is not enough. They must love you in return for you to become fully human. If not, your batteries will run out and your mechanical body will deteriorate and die."

"I'm sorry to say that you only have a limited amount of time to accomplish this." He looked away from the screen. "What I truly wanted in life was to have a child to love. I never realised the joy it brought until I had you. Yuffie, you were always real to me, but you must become so for the rest of the world."

He gazed at her pleadingly. "My time is drawing near. Promise me you will do as I say this final time. Promise you will become a real girl, and find someone to love and take care of you. Make your father proud, daughter. I…love you…"

The great lord and scientist faintly smiled and closed his eyes, never again seeing the world.

The screen returned to its normal snowy picture. Yuffie ejected the tape from the recorder and eyed it. She gently traced the smooth, black surface with her cool fingers. "Yuffie promises," she murmured softly. "Yuffie shall go into the world and find a way, father."

Shaking her head, she put the tape in a desk drawer, and left the room. She quietly escaped to her bedroom and closed the door. Her eyes scanned the sparsely furnished room with abject interest. She would have to leave this place to find her answers, and keep the promise she made to her father.

She searched her memory banks to find someone she knew, someone she could trust. Throughout her life, Yuffie was rarely viewed as little more than a person. She had no friends except one. Tifa. Yes, the dark-haired girl who used to go to school with her when they were children.

Tifa was the only person her age that seemed to have anything to do with her. With her sincerity and cheerful demeanor, she treated Yuffie as an equal. It would be nice to see the face of an old friend who seemed to understand her differences. Yes, Tifa would be the perfect person to aid her on this quest—she was sure of it.

She pulled herself away from the bed, and began to pack a bag. She would need a change of clothes, at least. People would most likely find her odd to wear the same attire every day. Well, that was what her father and Chekhov proclaimed.

Chekhov. Yes, she would have to leave a decent note for the maid to not worry over her sudden departure. The poor woman had enough heartbreak over her master's death. Well, she would do this trite errand since it was expected of her.

After she finished packing the small bag of clothing, she quietly shut the door and went into Godo's room. Nothing in the room was out of place except for the large figure upon the bed. A dark sheet covered the prone form which lay motionless, the dark bloodstain spreading on the sheet.

Yuffie mechanically pulled the sheet away from her father's corpse. Eyeing it with remote concern, she gently traced the soft, worn lines of his face. His flesh was already accepting death's cool touch. She placed her delicate hand in his, and traced a kiss upon his cool forehead. "Don't worry, father. Yuffie will honour your promise, and become what you always wanted." She hesitated a moment, staring at the stiff body. "Yuffie forgives you."

She returned the sheet to its rightful place and left the room. Her silent stride took her beyond the main doors and past the main gate of the mansion. Looking back, she eyed the dark manor critically. This would be the last time she would be here. Wutai held nothing for her now—of that, she was certain.

Her eyes observed the darkening landscape, the tiny lights of the small village beyond giving a claming effect. A sigh escaped her as she look above, the radiant illumination from a blanket of stars gave her the motivation to move forward. Her father would want her to move on, and never look back. The past would never have the answers she was looking for, only the broad horizon before her.

And so, with confident steps she moved onward. Onward, to an unknown world that would have the answers to her questions, and perhaps a way to keep her promise. She would find it out there—she was certain of it.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm sure all of you are wondering why Yuffie is seriously out of character. Well, if I told you that, then I'd spoil the whole plot, wouldn't I? So I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see! And sorry, fan girls. Don't expect to see Mr. Vincent Valentine for a while. The first half of this story focuses mainly on a strong Tifa/Yuffie friendship (NO yuri whatsoever!).