By Moony
Disclaimer: None of that Final Fantasy stuff is mine.
Chapter IV
An hour later, Red's conscience began to act, slowly stirring inside of him until he felt the guilt boiling, combining dangerously with his current emotional instability. He'd never heard of anyone in his situation before, so he had no idea if he would ever be able to return to normal. The human lifespan was a mere fraction of his previous one, and he could feel his body dying around him. It caused constant discomfort having his senses dulled to the extreme, knowing that he could be trapped in that form for the rest of his life. He wanted to die. Returning to the planet would be a welcome liberation compared to a life as a selfish, pig-headed human.
He silently scolded himself for his harsh thoughts. He knew better. One didn't save the world with some of the greatest people in it and still assume that all humans – with the exception of his grandfather – were no good, mako-wasting vermin. Even Yuffie had a heart of gold beneath the initial greed and casual manner.
He stopped, his guilty heart resurfacing. He'd acted like Yuffie hadn't cared a bit, when he knew her well enough to know the truth. She was feeling as terrible as he was, but there was no way to show it. Combined with the knowledge that his transformation was technically her fault, she would have to be even more morally agonized then Red. She just wouldn't show it – opting to bottle it all inside of her, rather than let it out and apologize.
Red sighed, rising to his feet and wobbling a bit. He'd have to go out sooner or later. Besides, he might be condemning himself too soon. It was entirely possible that there was a cure, and that he could be Nanaki again in just a few days! The sooner he and Yuffie left for Midgar, the better. He reached for the tunic and pants, not wanting to make the same mistake twice, and stared uneasily at the dark fabric in his hands. He sat down on the bed, holding the pants in a bunch between his hands. The bowl had been more difficult than this, but the idea of thumbs still struck him as odd. Extremely useful, but still odd.
He figured that the pants where easy enough, and he shoved his legs through the long tunnels of clothe, struggling to keep them up when they threatened to slip down again. He noticed a drawstring at the waist, and squeezed the strings between his thumb and index fingers, pulling. The pants tightened, and he struggled to remember how to tie a knot. He'd seen his human companions do it often enough, and after a few minutes, he finally managed a half success. It wasn't very tight, and it bulged awkwardly, but it would hold. As fate often works, it was only after his struggling was rewarded that he felt a tingling sensation, and he groaned. Human or not, he knew that feeling.
He needed to go to the washroom.
He'd seen Cloud walk around without a shirt on several occasions (Much to the delight of Yuffie and Tifa, as he always noted) and he supposed that it would be safe to attempt the trip down the hall before attempting to conquer the tunic. It had too many holes, and he had no idea what went where. He rose to his feet, slowly making his way towards the door, and sighed with relief when he managed to make the trip without falling. He'd had enough experience with doorknobs to know how to work them, and found the bathroom down the hall. Keeping one hand on the wall at all times, he made his way to the open door, entering it and closing the door behind him. He stared at the knob for a few moments before giving up on the lock, as he had no idea how it worked and had no motivation to waste the next half hour trying to figure it out. He shook his head, turning, and stopped when he caught a glance of someone in the room with him. He jumped, uneasily, before turning a bit red in embarrassment. What he'd seen was his own reflection: his own human form. He put his task on hold, halting to stare at himself in the mirror in a mixture of fascination and disgust.
He had dark, pigmented skin that, he noted with a sneer, had only the minimal, human amount of hair for protection. He was slim and skinny, though still physically fit, much like how he'd been before the incident. He did not have anyone to compare himself to, and as he'd only looked up at everyone from 3 feet above the ground, he could only assume that he was still shorter than Cloud, but definitely taller than Yuffie and perhaps the same height as Reeve. He smiled, softly, at the sight of his wild mane of brilliant red hair, which hung down to his shoulders, loose locks falling in his keen, onyx eyes, both of them open, the scar gone.His pupils were round rather than slit, explaining his lack of precision in vision. He had thick, dark lips and when he curled them back, he noticed sharp, white teeth that contrasted with the rest of his colouring. Though his teeth were those of a man, he still had a pair of pointy fangs, which pleased him to see. He ran a hand through his hair, content that he still looked somewhat like his former self, before returning to the task at hand.
He turned to the porcelain bowl and cursed. Things were not going to be that easy.
When he returned to his room, he was torn between pride at being able to figure these things out on his own, and anger at how frustratingly difficult humans made everything. He only survived by telling himself that he wouldn't be one for much longer. It was a big world, and Reeve was practically in charge of it all. With the presidential candidate's help, a cure would have to be found.
He picked up the shirt, filled with a newfound determination and ready to tackle anything that was sent his way, but after several failed attempts, he draped it over his arm and headed downstairs.