Till Dawn Meets the Sky
written by Araclyzm
Chapter One
p.o.v. Yuffie
Five years.
It has been five years since the First Door, the wrong door, was closed. It has been five years since the Bearer disappeared. It has been five years since the flow of darkness worsened, three since it ebbed, two since it began again. It has been only one year since End of the World's core collapsed in on itself, spewing more and more of the black monsters into the many worlds, namely ours. It has been five years since we returned to our home, fourteen since we left it first. So many years, and yet it feels like hardly a day has gone by.
So many days. So much time wasted on nothing.
I inclined my head toward the window from my spot on the cushioned seat, placing a warm hand on the cool glass and marveling at the handprint left behind. It seemed perfect, a warm gathering of air on a cold surface, an imprint of something alive on something…not so alive. Needless to say, the handprint may have been perfect, but the owner of that hand was not. After all, who is? Perfection is something only the heavens can achieve, and even then they've got a few kinks to work out.
I leaned my forehead against the glass this time, sighing with much contentment as my head grew colder with the contact. It had been such a long time since I'd done something as simple as this, with no battles to fight or people to save. Just looking out the window as the rain falls silently down was something so trivial yet so…peaceful. It's at times like these when you begin to think the guy who said 'we never appreciate the small things until we lose them' was right.
But moments never last. Make 'em last, someone used to say. Unfortunately for people like us in times like this, moments when you could enjoy the trivial things we used to take for granted are as rare as they are small.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Oh, damn.
Another call means another job.
I picked up the gummi communicator, a circular object with only one means of function, pressing a single button in its center and holding in a breath as the scratchy sounds of static thanks to the rain filtered through the speaker.
"Seventh verse, same as the first," I recited in a gloomy tone of voice, for once holding in the giggle that I never failed to let loose at my stupid password, the likes of which made sure I was me.
"Kisaragi," barked a voice through the intercom, and I felt that if I had ears they would droop.
"Reporting, Sir!" I announced, holding the machine next to my mouth, and only slightly wondering how my voice changed so automatically.
"Get yer tail to the East Wing now. We got us a whole horde comin' up from the Waterway, but the Infirmary's gotta be taken care of first." The communicator clicked and I slipped it deftly back into its pouch, at the same time jumping to my feet in the nimble manner only ninjas could learn and perform.
Grabbing the leather pouch filled with the throwing stars that were my choice of weaponry, I slipped it onto my belt while pulling my sneakers on and bounded into the hall seconds later, turning right and sprinting down that direction.
East Wing.
Aerith.
Five years seem so unimportant now. It used to be that a day was all that stood between annihilation and survival – now, it is like the meanings of every big and little thing have intertwined and mixed, and every moment and all of time has no one meaning, but a thousand different meanings depending on who you ask or how you ask the question, or why you ask, or even where you are when you ask. It's strange how different the world seems now – there are times when you believe things can never change, and then, as sudden as snow, they do.
Things get so complicated when you actually take time to think them through. But Time doesn't give you any of itself to allow you to think – Time is a selfish little bitch who doesn't wait for your thoughts or, rather, any part of you to catch up. The nonexistent entity known as Time just ticks on by, since the day she was born, until the day that she stops. You never think of it that way until things change so suddenly that you do.
It's strange.
Five years ago, when I was sixteen, you'd think I was the happy-go-lucky brat trying to prove herself to the world because the world didn't accept or understand her. Maybe I was. Maybe I still am. But five years ago, the only thing I had to worry about was holding off a battalion of blackness before the one person who could make sure they never returned could sweep them back into darkness. Now, however, I have a mission that in retrospect has no official beginning or end – it's as if I'd always had it and I'd only become aware of it when the times changed. Protect the people that need to be protected – that was what they told us when we came here, that was what they repeated constantly when it all began again.
To protect. That's my only purpose now. I'm not a single being anymore, I'm not just Yuffie Sierra-Rae Kisaragi. I'm just one tiny part of something so much greater, something that was made long before I was, something that someone somehow knew I would become a part of one day, long before I figured out why.
Jeeze. If you'd known me five years back and just met me again now, you'd never think I was me.
That's how much the times have changed.
--
RING.
A sharp sound filled my ears as two shurikens made contact with the chair behind a black monster as it melded into the floor and back again. I cursed loudly before taking better aim with another star and making quick work of the Heartless.
I grabbed the other two throwing stars from the metal chair's back and threw them deftly at two fiends who stood close enough to each other that the action worked. Behind me, somewhere further down the hall, I heard the loud clangs of swords meeting shields, as well as the soft whoosh before magic met flesh. Three other warriors were with me, two strong ones with much experience, but one just released from the academy, which in a way sickened me. Inexperienced soldiers weren't supposed to be put under my watch – I would have to talk to Quistis about that later. It was like adding insult to injury, and, gawd, was that a bitch.
Three monstrous brutes materialized out of black smoke and surrounded me, thrusting their wolverine-headed shields at me threateningly. More of those smaller devils appeared around them like children who could bite, and from the corner of my eye, I witnessed as two balls of black bounced into life.
Gawd. Work, work, work.
It was always the same. I had much to complain about, but I should have been used to it already.
Whistling loudly, I ducked as the biggest of the three Defenders shoved its shield at me with some biting attack. Five smaller Heartless tried to tackle me to the floor, but I was not in the mood to play with them this time around. I propelled them away from me by flailing my arms and shoving shurikens by the handful through whatever came near me. A sharp pain snapped through my side as one of the little ones bared sharp claws and tried to swipe at me.
Then the low, rhythmic chanting of magic came into the scene and I almost fell back in relief, but didn't, as the Defenders, who'd just realized the little mutts weren't going to keep me down, powered up their shields to shoot.
"Flare," whispered a close voice and the three shield-bearing monstrosities disappeared under fire. The remaining monsters of the Heartless species were sliced away by two swords that came out of nowhere, but that came quickly.
I rubbed my forehead as the final smoke of the battle cleared to reveal three figures standing over me.
I glared, one hand finding my side in an effort to subdue the numb pain.
"What're you lookin' at?" I grumbled moodily. An extremely tall swordswoman raised an eyebrow, sheathing her sword before crossing her arms.
"Must we always save your butt, Kisaragi?" she said flatly, but with an underlying tone of amusement. I waved a finger at her rudely, making a face.
"Bite me and see how it tastes, Paine," I growled in response, pulling myself to my knees. I noticed that I was bleeding somewhat – it was an embarrassing sight, to be seen bleeding after such an easy fight. That's what they would say, that's what they would think. It just goes to show how much thoughts have been altered by the new winds of our life.
"I would say gladly, but I'm not that kind of girl," Paine responded, flicking a tress of her short hair from her face and turning to walk away. The heels of her boots clicked down the hall for a long time before disappearing entirely from my hearing.
I looked up at the two remaining warriors and glared again.
"Well!? Are ya just gonna stand there while I bleed ta death, or are ya gonna help me?" I yelled through gritted teeth. The second swordsman, and one of the best at NOVA, bent down to my level, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the same time, while still managing not to look like an idiot, something I silently revered and wondered at.
"You're not hurt, you idiot," he said evenly, his snowy eyes shifting from the smallish gash on my side to my face and back again.
I lifted a hand to smack him, but refrained at the last minute and instead balled it into a fist on my knees.
Squall was the idiot. He always called me that annoying name, from the day the Heartless attacked the Bastion that first time fourteen years ago to this very moment. He found every movement I did an insult to his swollen ego (and that's a typo on my part, since Squall has no ego to speak of), and he found every second that I was near him a waste of his time; every action I performed was fit enough for a criticism from the great Lion, because oh-ho, what a world, he has the ability to make you feel so small with just a simple sentence.
"You jerk, Squall," I muttered, rising to my feet. "You wouldn't know anyway. I'm bleeding, and it's painful, and that's reason enough."
The ex-SeeD and current NOVA rolled his eyes again as he followed me, ascending to his full height, and gawd was he tall. Taller even than Paine, and she's one of the tallest people I know at NOVA, or anywhere even. I – me, at my five-feet-one-inch height – could've been taken for a kid – which in some cases was a good thing, in most cases a bad thing – but Squall – Squall and all six-foot-two-inches of him could be taken at any give moment for a giant. I don't know really why I compared my height with everyone else's from time to time. Perhaps it was my pride that made me sort of content with being the shortest of everyone I knew.
"Brat," was his immediate answer and he shook his head, his spiky grown locks flying to and fro. "And if you're so injured, the Infirmary door's down the hall to your left." He raised an eyebrow and turned to the opposite of direction he had indicated.
"I already know that, Squall," I said loudly enough for him to hear as he disappeared down the hall, just like Paine before him. Huffing with indignation, I turned toward the third and final fighter, muttering a low, "Idiot," on Squall's behalf.
Rikku. It would suffice to say that I hated her. She believed that just because she was compared to me more often than not – as well as the fact that she almost had the same middle name as I – she had the right to follow me around everywhere and criticize my every movement with an annoying, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." She was a shinobi like me, but then again, she owned a new device called a Garment Grid, and, in retrospect, could be anything she chose. The first word that comes to mind is schizophrenic, but Rikku's anything but that – she's annoying and pitifully naïve, with this high and squeaky voice that tends to get on the nerves if heard too much. I shouldn't have hated her – at times like these, we should never hate the people we fight on the same side as – but maybe I didn't, maybe I just disliked her greatly. I saw her as a rival, being that she's exactly the same height as me, with exactly the same shape in every way. She compared herself to me all the time, but she did it in a demeaning way on my end. Aerith, my best friend, told me that, when not around me, Rikku was just as happy-go-lucky as I used to be. But perhaps she feels the same unbidden enmity for me that I do for her.
Who knows?I glared through her strange green eyes, which at the moment held smug contempt. "What are you lookin' at, huh?"
She shook her head, her much-longer-than-mine blonde semi-braided hair swinging – everyone's long hair does that; they swing, which is why I don't like it. It looks so stupid when you think about it.
"Nothing important," she answered, grinning a satisfied grin. "Just a pathetic little girl who can't stand a little cut."
I clucked my tongue at her, feeling my cheeks coloring with rage as I stared at her fiercely. "And since when did I become the pathetic little girl, Rikku? If memory serves, it's usually me who's saving yer ass from the grill."
She eyed me, her grin still pasted to her face like a stamp. She seemed not to acknowledge I'd said anything at all, which, if anything, infuriated me more. She cocked her head to the side and smiled, all teeth and all shine, but no happiness in it, and she walked away simply, allowing me to believe I had won.
When she was three paces away, she turned as if to add one final thing to our conversation.
"But what does that prove, Rae?" she said, calling me by the middle name only she would dare to say. "If ever I'm in trouble, it was always your fault in the first place, wasn't it?"
My cheeks colored again and my glare grew stronger, but Rikku didn't miss a beat and shrugged as if to say, "And that's the way it is," before turning away and disappearing.
I ground my teeth, my hands balling into fists, and I wondered what would have happened if I had gathered the energy and gall to punch her before she left.
Rookie.
She's just a rookie.
--
p.o.v. Aerith
Stories are meant to be listened to, just as thoughts and opinions and speeches are meant to be listened to. This applies especially when those stories and thoughts have something real to say. So many times, people have ignored what was so obviously there. They've ignored what was written or misinterpreted it by their own fault. But whenever this occurred, people accepted the mistake, corrected it, and moved on. Never has there been a different way of life. But what happened to Disney was not inevitable. Our future could have been altered, so unlike our past that can never change. But here's where it all began.
Five years ago, a fourteen-year-old boy sealed away the Heartless into the Kingdom of Hearts. Then, he thought he was sealing the Door to Darkness. Everyone said it was so; the King of the Kingdom knew it to be true. But maybe it was Ansem's dark and silent revenge, or maybe all of history has been written wrong, but even King Mickey was incorrect. Sora, the fourteen-year-old happy-go-lucky hero, shut the wrong door, the Door to Light. While the stars returned to their places in the sky and the army of Heartless disappeared, the peace that came from the Keybearer's struggle lasted only a short time.
It wasn't until a month or so after Sora disappeared that people realized he'd closed the wrong door.
The Darkness returned, and the worlds were connected again. The stars drained from the sky like dust swept away, and the monsters – oh the Heartless – returned with so much more power. No one knew how – even the Queen could not find answers. But it was clear to all that the Keybearer's sacrifice and mission had been in vain.
Or maybe, as someone said, it was all part of something else.
This single seed of negativity was planted into the heart of the Kingdom and spread like wildfire through us all. People became rebels and mutineers and openly planned to revolt against the Queen, whom they believed had done them wrong. Those very people who had preached that the King and Queen would grant them peace and rid them of the monsters now preached that our rulers had always planned for this, that they wanted the Kingdom to collapse on itself, that the entire thing was the King's fault.
The Kingdom was split in three – those who fought against the Kingdom, those who fought for it, and those who were not taking sides. Along with battles against Heartless came battles against those who had once been friends. Thus, from the ashes of this great conflict rose a new era in time. Traverse Town became Anamnesis City in barely a year – currently it is a place divided into ruthless organizations that stop at nothing and intelligent societies that work beneath the surface. Everyone knows it as the Underground, and no good person has a chance there.
Those of us who wanted nothing to do with this fight returned to the Hollow Bastion. Though it was filled with Heartless, warriors who had no other home helped to cleanse the place, mostly, of them, allowing the original citizens of Traverse Town to live there. They began to call it Traverse Town II – maybe it gave them comfort, but nobody ever argued the name. Maybe, deep down, it gave all of us comfort that something, even a name, had barely changed.
Then, three years ago, NOVA formed. The flow of Heartless ebbed for a while due to the efforts of this organization, which my closest comrades and I are now a part of. It originated in Traverse Town II, and helped only those who needed it, and only from the monsters known as Heartless – we weren't a charitable association, as some of us wavered in our decisions when it came to the Civil War going on, but we never actually helped a certain side in the battle either. NOVA was deemed to all as neutral, and so Traverse Town II was left alone by all sides.
The receding flow of Heartless only went so far though and, a year after NOVA was created, came back at us full force. While we barely managed to keep them away, we could not fight them off entirely, but we soon became the strongest defense against them. While the original Traverse Town was used for spies and mercenaries who fretted over the Civil War, the new Traverse Town fought against the real problem. It was strangely ironic, to put it lightly.
And then a year ago came the worst part. Until then, Queen Minnie had been continually asking NOVA for help, as she was having more problems with the rebels than the Heartless. Request after request, the leaders of NOVA refused, and the Hollow Bastion was steadfast in its decision to remain neutral in the growing war. Situations were steadily getting worse, and soldiers were being produced on every side. The Kingdom was a mess, and the most important people – the King and Sora – were still missing.
It was a year ago that the core of the End of the World collapsed on itself, destroying the planet and spewing millions upon millions of the black beings known as Heartless into the solar system, into the worlds. No one knew exactly how it happened, but many speculated that it was because of all the hatred circulating throughout the Kingdom that overloaded the End of the World, causing it to finally die. And in its own death, it brought more destruction.
With the devastation of the obscured planet of Disney, all the planets' alignments were shifted with the blast of energy and power that came from it. Though the only accessible way to this world was through a portal, the aftermath of the collapse filtered through the rest of the galaxy like spilt water on a marble counter. The portal itself – the black hole – served more as an offense than a defense for End of the World.
The Hollow Bastion was the first to be attacked by the onslaught of fiends. The leaders of NOVA created an army of powerful soldiers that swept through the world to defeat whatever monsters they could. It was a massacre – NOVA wasn't quick enough, some still say – and so many people died. And not just in the Hollow Bastion – all over the Kingdom, people in every planet were killed or injured as the Queen sent out as much of her own army as she could afford to help NOVA's, but it was never enough. The Queen was already fighting a battle against her own subjects, and amid all the fighting, the Heartless nearly took over everything.
But NOVA came through in the end; after all, it was a skilled union of fighters. The leaders, who had created an Academy at the time NOVA itself was made, recruited people off the streets and trained them in short time so NOVA would once again hold the upper hand against the Heartless.
We succeeded (to some extent) some time ago, and those spur-of-the-moment soldiers were sent back to the Academy full time to be trained to their highest extent. The Heartless were subdued – for the moment – and while tensions were high and the Kingdom was still in a shambles, at least some people knew that NOVA knew what it was doing, and took comfort in knowing they would be safe.
For the moment.
It was always 'for the moment' when it came to the things that no one knew. Before, people would always think about the future but they relaxed easier knowing the present was now, and the future would come in good time. But now, however, people worry about the past, present and future like the Fates, always thinking they're alive, but 'for the moment', always thinking that they're happy 'for the moment'. No one can live under these conditions, and barely a soul has smiled since it all began.
It's as if the only purpose that exists anymore is survival, because we can survive, and whether or not we have a happy future is up to the Fates themselves. Not many believe we have a future anymore, though. A lot of them believe that all these battles being fought – the war against the rebels, the war against the Heartless – will be what ends the Kingdom of Disney altogether.
We had it coming, they'll tell you.
But I can tell you that the entire clash was built on lies and confused sentiments to what could not have been avoided because history said it couldn't. Maybe this was all inevitable, but there are still some of us who believe there was a different way to go, a way that still exists. And then there are those who'll tell you to quit dreaming and stay on the planes of reality because reality is all we have left, reality is all that exists.
There's no more hope for us, they say.
And god, how I want to tell them they're wrong. Everyday, I hope and pray for the survival of the Kingdom. Because we can survive – we just need hope, which is so easy to attain. We just need strength, which we can build from victory and happiness. We just need friendship and amity between us all, or we will never get through the problems that have gotten us where we are today. It's not fair that those of us, who believe the sun will someday shine through the dark clouds, are shunned because no one else believes this is so.
We were once a Kingdom built on hope and happiness.
It's strange how much the times have changed.
--
p.o.v. Yuffie
"It's just a small gash," said Aerith's soft voice and I turned toward its source, sighing. "Nothing to worry over." She smiled that bedazzling smile of hers and I knew I'd feel guilty if I didn't smile back to assure her I was the slightest bit happy, so I grinned crookedly.
"Yah," I mumbled, scooting off the table and to my feet. "But I wasn't worrying." The last part for some reason came out sounding snide, but Aerith's smile didn't falter, and she didn't blink suddenly, but she did turn away to begin cleaning up whatever nonexistent mess she thought existed. Really she was the neatest person alive, even when she was in a rush or doing a million things at once, which she tended to do. I didn't know what mess she saw.
I stayed there in the empty side room of the Infirmary – which, because of the many medical rooms throughout the castle, was labeled 'Infirmary III' – with Aerith until she had finished her duties and then I followed her out into the main room, watching her quietly from the door while she went around to the various patients lying on cots in their separate curtain-surrounded cubicles. A young man, maybe a visitor, sat beside the nearest cot, reading to an unconscious woman, and at the end of the room, by the window, sat a little girl, a teenage woman, and an elderly man, looking edgy and anxious, speaking together in low whispers and then with Aerith as she passed by.
When Aerith returned to where I stood, she pulled off her white doctor's coat, revealing her orange t-shirt and denim skirt. I shook my head at the white scarf she draped around her neck as she opened the door and another nurse walked in, nodding fleetingly.
"Good afternoon, Gia," the nurse said quietly. Aerith's semi-surname 'Gia' originated from her full last name, Gainsborough, since it was hard to say it quickly.
"Afternoon Sizuno." Aerith's response this time. Quiet, like all the others, but kind and reassuring, as though it was trained. And in all truth, she was trained – trained to smile at her patients and lie to them when she tells them they're not dying and they really are. The Aerith of the Infirmary lied and smiled for the patients' benefits, and her smiles weren't real when she lied. But Aerith knew how to lie through her smiles, and smile through her lies; it was how the harsh professors of the Academy trained her. Those very professors who kept telling her that it was the only way to bid happiness to those who had no need for it anymore.
Lies.
We entered the hall, where previously our battle had taken place, and turned toward the direction the others had left toward much earlier on. Our silence seemed out of place in the big, echoing halls. But these wary silences had befallen us more and more often over the years since the First Heartless Era. Maybe it was the feeling of hate that lay beneath the surface of everything these days that stuck walls of invisible glass between our friendships and us. There are a lot of maybes in the worlds of today, and it's this uncertainty and hesitation about life that's ruining us, I think.
"How have you been?" she asked after a while, looking down at her feet as though she were timing her steps and not speaking to me, which irritated me somewhat.
"Fine," I said simply, knowing how scripted the conversation already seemed. It couldn't have been more planned out if it really was a script we were repeating.
"That's good to hear," she answered, still timing her steps. Right foot, left foot; one step, two step. It was a dance to her, something rehearsed, something certain. Not another maybe; we had too many of those.
"What about you?" I forced a worried tone into my otherwise plain voice for Aerith's benefit. Maybe it would get her to look up at me finally. She was my best friend, and she always had been, but, as I said, lately I hadn't been able to actually look her in the eyes and tell her how I felt when she asked, because I knew she really wanted to know. We all knew that our scripted conversations were just…shrouds, for lack of a better word. Shrouds that hid our true feelings because they couldn't be seen.
It didn't work, however; Aerith remained with her head bowed. "I've been fine." That was all I got out of her; I knew that was all I could get out of her. We reached a staircase that I think led down to the main anteroom, before the Library. Beside that flight of stairs, another led upward, to more rooms and another Infirmary.
I turned toward Aerith, but she wasn't actually looking at me. She was looking at the stairs as though it was her sanctuary, her path to heaven. I felt my imaginary ears droop in sadness.
"Um…Aerith?" I whispered, feeling my insides melt at how vulnerable I sounded just then. I've always hated being vulnerable; sounding vulnerable was even worse, because you didn't need to see to know.
But I think it was this moment of vulnerability that made Aerith finally turn to me. She was lovely, a beautiful young woman of twenty-six who'd seen far too much of the worlds, like me. A few years prior, she cropped her stunning auburn hair to only her shoulders, and she no longer did anything with it besides stick it in a semi-loose/tight bun. When I actually asked her why she did that to her hair, she said it was because she needed to keep her hair out of her face when she worked on her patients. I thought that was bullshit. Reasons can only go so far, but excuses make no sense.
She had pretty green eyes as well, eyes that used to shine with happiness whenever they looked upon something, no matter what it was. She used to hold a love for just about everything, with such a kindness as the worlds have never seen. I don't know what happened to that Aerith. I think she's locked herself away from what's become of us, leaving this shadow of Aerith behind. It's sad. It's strange. Like everything else.
"Yes, Yuffie?" she asked, in that selfsame hushed voice she's always using. I wanted to slap her and tell her to let the other Aerith back out. We need that other Aerith; please let her out! She used to be my pillar of strength, because she radiated hope. This Aerith is not her and never will be.
I looked down for a minute, fidgeting, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I clutched at the leather pouch that hung from my belt, feeling the encouraging weight of my shurikens, and I looked up.
"What happened…?" To us? I didn't voice the rest of the question, but I knew Aerith knew what I meant. Her eyes widened a little at how suddenly the question came. Maybe she knew it would always come. Maybe she thought she'd never be able to answer it when it did.
It was a long time that we stood at the base of two stairs in silence, staring at each other in both misery and worry. But Aerith did answer; she always had an answer.
"Time did, Yuffie," she murmured, starting up the steps to Infirmary IV. "Time."
Time.
Time happened to people, she means. With all the maybes and all the 'for the moments' and all the buts and all that stuff…it was kind of obvious, wasn't it, though? Time. A simple answer to a simple question.
--
p.o.v. Aerith
I saw the world in black and white, so yes you could call me narrow-minded. Times like these practically advertised for narrow-minded people. It was either you were good or bad. That's all that mattered as to which side you were on. Even though there were three sides, only two mattered, and only one fight was real. The other fight was just something the people created because they took comfort in believing something else was true rather than believing that their rulers – the people who they always thought would protect them and keep them safe – had made an unavoidable mistake. Those people don't want to feel safe in the protection of someone who makes mistakes.
But one question that people are always asking is not, 'Why have the wars started?' They ask, 'How did we get this way?' They ask, 'What has happened to us?'
Time did. Time happened to us.
The answer was obvious and easily figured out, I think. And I always thought Yuffie, with all her childish tomfoolery and all her juvenile antics and all her habitual youngness, would be the first to figure it out. After all, they say the young are the wisest of us all, for their innocence sees what the tainted cannot.
But maybe that question of 'What happened?' requires an answer not from the intelligent, not from the young, but from the elders, from the wise.
However, I never got to thinking along those lines until I left Yuffie standing there at the base of the steps. When she asked me, I felt shocked, for some reason, because I never knew it would be Yuffie of all people who would ask such a complicated question.
The question is complex, Cloud said. It's the answer that seems most simple.
Usually it's the other way around.
"Um…Aerith?" she had asked. Her voice still held traces of her childhood in it. She was already twenty-one, but she was one of those people who would never fully, completely grow up. I knew her too well – she would always be the youngest of the group, no matter how much time went by.
At that moment, though, I felt this underlying tone of regret, or maybe pain, radiating from her, and I had no choice but to give her my full attention. For so long I've avoided her, nearly went so far as to ignore her, but she was my best friend and my little sister in every aspect of the word. There are times when you run out of reasons, and excuses are hard to come by.
"Yes, Yuffie?" I'd answered her. What was she going to ask? What was she going to say? Perhaps she wanted to talk. Oh, how I missed talking to her. She may have been a little immature in her younger years, but she knew how to talk and what to talk about and at times she knew exactly what to say.
"What happened?" I heard the rest of the question, even though the words remained unsaid. 'What happened…to us?' I wish I knew a better answer than the one that came to mind, but as bad as it sounded in my head, it also sounded very fitting. I thought over it, twisting it, trying to find some hidden meaning that would make Yuffie understand, because I didn't know if she'd understand a simple answer such as the one I had no choice but to give.
I stared at her in silence for a long time, and she stared back. She'd grown so much over so long a time. I remember how she'd nearly kill me for just suggesting she let her onyx hair grow any longer than her ears. That was up until she turned eighteen. Then, her duties called away all the time she had to herself. Hair no longer bothered her, and it now reached her shoulder blades at her back in the layers and waves my own hair used to hold.
She was now twenty-one and an exquisite young woman with stunning blue eyes that haven't yet failed in holding that fiery stubbornness and 'annoyance' as Cloud, Cid, and pretty much everyone take pleasure in pointing out. Her form was still slight and small, and her talents of sneaking around with the lightness of a feather still held strong, making her, surprisingly to others, one of the best fighters in NOVA.
"Time did, Yuffie," I finally whispered to her, and turned to walk up the staircase, where I was sure I'd be needed. "Time."
Time is such a necessity today. The leaders of NOVA, as we continuously refer to as the 'Enigmatic Men', are always saying that they need more time. We are like a bustling city, always looking for more time, always working too fast or walking too slow and always needing time.
As Yuffie would have said, this sucks.
I opened the metal door as silently as I could and walked in, looking around the white medical attention room. There were three other Healers, another nurse, and two doctors. I was a Healer, which meant I served as a nurse and doctor and a healer-by-magic. I've always wanted to help people in every way I could. I just never thought my healing abilities and my medical skills would ever be required in a place and time such as now.
Slipping a white coat over my regular outfit and pulling my white scarf from my neck to drape over a coat hook, I looked toward the nearest doctor.
She was a woman with two-toned eyes and short brown hair, and she wasn't normally seen so saddened. I'd heard she'd been a traveler earlier in her years, and she confirmed the rumor when I asked her not too long ago.
"Yuna?" I whispered, trying hard to think what could possibly make this eternally happy girl stand on the brink of tears. Even the times never seemed to bring her too far down.
"Aerith, I – " she began, but then a rather loud blip rang out through the room and all heads turned toward one of the five visitors. He had spiky yellow hair but a solemn face, and Yuna seemed to know him, for she shot him a sterner look than the medical attendants and I.
"Tidus, I told you," Yuna walked over to him, speaking in a rushed whisper, "when you're in the infirmary, please shut that thing off or don't bring it at all!"
The blonde man known as 'Tidus' gave us all apologetic looks, but otherwise didn't answer, instead leaving the room right away. Being so close to the door, I heard him talking through a Gummi Communicator as soon as he left the room, leaving the Infirmary door open behind him.
"Tom, Dick, and Harry reporting," he said quickly. The round object crackled and then a voice responded.
"Ushiro," came a grave but commanding voice, "Report to the Library for an emergency conference at eighteen-hundred." The communicator blipped again and was silent. Tidus probably felt my gaze and looked up with a somber appearance.
"You shouldn't have heard that," he groaned, just now noticing who I was. It was all well known that everyone in the Hollow Bastion was on the same side, because the Enigmatic Men disallowed unauthorized entrances and exits, watching all means of travel with a critical eye, so enemies and spies were never a question. But still, all the fighters, all the soldiers, all the men and women of the NOVA-trained army were supposed to be secretive in their missions, whatever they may be, and though the Traverseans were given a vague idea of what NOVA sent their people out to do, nothing was ever certain and nothing ever should be. Something such as what I just did – eavesdropping on what could have been a very confidential, very crucial call – was something that could have consequences the likes of which I would never be able to deal with.
But I was neither a spy, nor an enemy, of NOVA or any of the people in Traverse Town II. The catch was that the Enigmatic Men didn't care – rules were rules that were meant to be abided by, and if rules were never broken in the first place, we wouldn't be where we are today. It's sickening, but it's a law I've learned to live with. While we're not any kind of democracy or monarchy or have really any type of government, we still have certain rules to be abided by. The sad part is that not calling ourselves part of a monarchy anymore means we're almost like the rebels – we broke away, in an attempt to free ourselves from the Civil War.
I sighed inwardly at the wary look I received from Tidus Ushiro. I wondered if he would report me as an eavesdropper that could be a spy. It wasn't impossible, in his mind at least. That's how he was trained – question and challenge everything.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help…" I began and trailed off, this time sighing aloud and glancing over my shoulder. I took a breath, nodding toward him and putting on the face of the nurse telling her patient everything will be all right.
"Sir, it's nearly six o'clock," I told him soothingly. "You should go. I'll tell Yuna you had to leave, but I won't say anything else." Tidus looked only the slightest bit reassured, nodding, and started at a run down the hall. Obviously, whatever it was that the man on the other end of that line said, it was importance in its gravest form. I closed the door with as little noise as I could make and turned toward the only person now paying attention.
"Aerith?" Yuna said quietly and I shook my head, going over to one of the side rooms to begin my work.
An emergency conference? That could mean a lot of things.
Yuna followed me into the room, and together we worked silently at preparing the things the doctors would need. Yuna didn't have to, really – she was certified only as a doctor, but I knew what she wanted me to tell her. I just wasn't sure if I should.
A head popped into the room; another Healer, by the name of Kale Trima. She looked as grim as Yuna had earlier.
"We have three fighters coming in," she said, motioning for us to follow her. We quickly stopped what we were doing and walked out of the room with her. "None of them have been identified yet. One is bleeding internally, the woman is poisoned, and the third…" Kale left her sentence hanging like a broken thread and I held my breath, unable to ask what happened to the third.
But Yuna had the strength and courage to do so. "And the third?"
Kale shook her head, remaining silent as three stretchers were wheeled into the room. The doctor shouted an order at me, as well as the two other Healers, Lenne and Jina. The nurse, Kat, and Yuna helped wheel the two heavy men and the one woman into separate rooms.
I won't say it's strange. It's just something I should have gotten used to a long time ago.--
End Chapter One