Epilogue
Day 1
In the light of day, swathed in a voluminous kimono and standing against the backdrop of the River Leviathan and Da Chao-statue, he looked tiny. The contrast of hard gold-brown stone with red and white silk, a rich blue sky with an aged brown face, only served ton enhance the picture. He looked almost like a child. Thin, stick-like. Harmless.
It had been his samurai, his son, his letter.
All of this was his fault.
She wanted to strangle him. She wanted to grab that damn bundle of sticks and shake him and shake him until she could hear the bits of straw rattling. She wanted to snap him in half, snap that absurd little straw doll in half and watch all the chaff fall out.
Yuffie inclined her head. "Lord Shu."
He sighed heavily. "I am sorry for your loss."
Lie. He wasn't sorry. He hadn't cared about Godo. He'd wanted her throne for his son. He'd wanted Godo's kingdom for his own.
He didn't care about her, he didn't care about her country, he didn't care, he didn't care.
"And I'm sorry for yours."
Lie. She wasn't sorry she'd killed Tsen Li. He had been a threat to her country. She was glad he was dead.
Why were they bothering with this? Why were they standing in a city his son had tried to destroy and pretending that neither of them wanted the other to rot in a torture chamber?
"I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive this old man... I must admit that I am at fault."
Oh, she knew that. She knew that full well.
"I... I knew of my son's plan."
Yuffie felt the blood rush to her face. That, she hadn't known. That, she would kill him for.
"You— you knew! And you didn't warn us? That's— that's!"
Horrifying. Insane. Dishonourable. Tantamount to an act of war.
"That's war! That's an act of war! You had a moral and legal obligation to warn us, and you deliberately neglected it!"
At her abandonment of typical Wutaian couched-speech, Mao Li's face went practically purple. Great. So they were both pissed as hell at each other.
"What else could I have done? I am willing to accept full responsibility for my inaction, but I could have done nothing to change it."
He had a point, but she couldn't concede it. "That's a lie. You're the samurai. You tell me what you could have done."
"And what would my running have accomplished? There was no way to warn you in time... Running would merely have endangered my health."
"I find that running downhill is easier than walking uphill. You could have warned us. What the hell is the PHS system for, if not calling in an emergency?"
He looked down.
"Unless you wanted your son to succeed? This is your out, isn't it? You can say 'I had no way to stop it I had no way to warn you'. Like that's supposed to exonerate you." She snarled at him. "Being old is no excuse. You could have done something."
He stared at her, that same steady stare Vincent had given her. But this was different. Vincent's stares had always made her feel a little ashamed, possibly even afraid. Mao Li's gaze, however, had no effect.
"If that is the case, what course of action do you have? I can—"
"—Nooo, no you can't. Whatever you're thinking about, you can't. This is Da Cha O, not Le Phe Tan, and I will beat your ass from here to Junon if you try."
Mao Li stiffened. "I see. In that case, I demand my right to an honourable death."
"Give me your katana. I will be happy to comply."
"Right here? Right now?"
"Here and now. You want your honourable death, you're getting it here."
He unsheathed his katana, giving it to her by the hilt.
She accepted it in both hands. "When?"
"No... This is not the way." His hand reached out, touching the hilt.
She laughed. "Let me guess. You want to write your death poem and wrap the wakizashi in paper?"
"That is my right."
"Fine. Dawn tomorrow. On this bridge."
The katana passed back into his hands. She could wait a day, even if he didn't deserve an honourable death.
Day 2
Dawn came entirely too early. But she was there, and she was appropriately dressed, and Mao Li was writing his death poem.
If it was haiku, she was going to laugh. Hard.
Insanely hard.
Except haiku was a perfectly acceptable form, though she personally would have chosen tanka. Five, seven, five, seven, seven. It was usually filled with emotion. A single, passionate line.
She took the slip of paper from him, noting that it was, in fact, a tanka.
She read it and didn't laugh. Instead, she handed it off to Sho Tzu and unsheathed the katana.
Mao Li looked up at her, sighing.
She took up her position behind him. "When?"
"Let me bleed."
She nodded.
The yukata fell open. His wakizashi plunged into his flesh. A quick jerk, left to right, and up.
Cutting straight through a neck was hard enough, but it was considered poor form to completely sever the head from the body, which was even harder. She was supposed to use a special cut, leaving a slight flap of skin instead of completely beheading him.
Yuffie waited a moment, watching him bleed.
Mao Li inclined his head.
She swung.
Vincent stood on the other side of the river, watching. It wasn't as close as he was allowed to go, but he didn't want to be too close.
If he got close, he would have no opportunity to scan the crowds for threats. If he got close, he would have to remember the uncle who had lifted him to his shoulders, the uncle who had prepared him for his meeting with the go-between, the uncle who had played Go with him.
Was this aged, treacherous serpent the man he had grown up knowing, admiring, loving?
He wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure. Yuffie was even now destroying his only remaining means of knowing: no one would speak ill of the dead, if there was ill to speak.
All except for one— a non-Wutaian man, according to dress, hair and skin colour. He stood in a crowd of Wutaian women.
The man's gaze was fixed on a single point. Vincent followed that line. His fingers tightened their grip on the Death Penalty.
That intense stare was unnatural. Something in his gut coiled and tightened.
Was this how Godo had felt? Had Godo seen something predatory in the way he had looked at Yuffie, something ill?
On the bridge, Yuffie swung the katana.
Barely conscious of it, Vincent held his breath, hoping that it would be quick. Clean. Proper.
It was. No flying head, no flying katana, no complete decapitation.
Just a quick, clean stroke.
She did well. It was... It was a relief.
He turned back to the man who had been staring.
He was still staring. Something... salacious in that gaze, something sick, something wrong.
Cid stared at the man sitting in front of Yuffie. He was tall, dressed in dark colours. The man looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place him.
He looked back to Yuffie. Her head was high in the air, impossibly high. Her expression was even.
He'd never thought the twerp could be so damn dignified. He was starting to see what that Sho Tzu guy saw in her. He was starting to see that the kid could lead.
Yuffie, leading a country? A year ago, he'd have scoffed at the thought. Now, though... He wasn't so sure he'd been right about her. She was stronger than anybody had given her credit for.
The man bowed his head. "Second, I have come to confess."
She gritted her teeth. "Do it quick."
"Since the Shinra War, my goal has been to unify our nation. I thought that only then could it be strong. In my fervour, I schemed against you. Against us all."
Something about Yuffie's expression changed, but only for a moment. That brief flash across her face could have been anything from anger, to nausea, to hurt.
"I am the one who sent the letter and the photographs to Shu Mao Li. I am the one who commanded the traitorous guard. I am the one who aided Shu Tsen Li's samurai in breaching the palace."
Yuffie stood. Her face flushed, her jaw clenched, her hands curled themselves into fists. She made several gestures, opened and clothed her mouth several times.
And then she gave up.
"I want you dead," she hissed. "Do you understand that? I want you dead. You killed my father. You killed my father! You nearly destroyed the palace! You— all of this is your fault!"
"Little Lady," one of the ninja started forward, but Yuffie swung out her hand.
Cid watched the scene, wishing for a cigarette. He was fucking glad she wasn't looking at him with that look. Really fucking glad.
"What about a trial?" Gang Wu asked. "The other nations would look down on us if we didn't have a trial."
She stalked towards him, that ridiculous-looking kimono swaying as she moved. She bent down, got in the man's face. "You want a trial, Gang Wu? You'll get a trial. But first I'll fucking kill you."
"Little Lady!" The ninja moved forward again.
"Sho Tzu, stay back!" She didn't even look away from Gang Wu.
Sho Tzu ignored her. Instead, he moved towards Yuffie, finally clasping his hand on her shoulder. "Second, you can't just kill him! As a chunin, he has a right to a trial!"
Cid couldn't help noticing that Sho Tzu didn't say 'fair'. Did the traitorous bastard deserve one? He'd dumped airship fuel all over the Palace and lit it on fire.
That fire had spread to the city walls. The only thing that saved the town had been the sudden storm. But... Rain and snow in the middle of summer? He rather figured that Leviathan had something to do with it.
"A tribunal," Gang Wu said. "It would be a sham."
Yuffie glared. "Yeah, well, it's the best you're going to get. Everyone in this room heard your confession. It's not like there's any point in trying you, anyway."
"She has a point," one of the other ninja added. This one was short, slender. Female, if the breasts were any indication. "What do you hope to accomplish?"
But Cid knew: publicity. If he could get enough people aware of his situation, he might find people who would side with him.
Fuckin' politics. This was just another reason Cid hated politicians. It looked like the brat was one of the only good ones.
"Politics," Cid told them. " 's fuckin' POLITICS, twerp."
Sho Tzu glared at him. "How dare you speak to—"
"—Shut up, Aoshi. That asshole cancer factory's a friend of mine. Let him talk how he wants."
Cid was now officially confused. Was the man's name Sho Tzu or Aoshi? Was Sho Tzu some sort of fucked-up nickname?
The man's voice turned gentle. "It's Sho Tzu, now, little Lady."
Whatever. He'd let 'cancer factory' slide. For now. "Damn straight, kid, and if nobody else sees what that idiot is tryin' to pull, then I'm the only friend you got in here!"
"Not the only friend," Vincent murmured from right behind Cid's left ear.
Cid jumped, swearing. "Christ! God damn it, Valentine, the fuck're you doin'! Scare the FUCK outta me, why don't ya!"
"I apologize. I did not mean to startle you."
"Cid, watch the mouth. I don't need you fucking up Shake's language." Yuffie blinked, and then started to laugh. "I'm a goddamn hypocrite, huh?"
"Politics," the woman ninja muttered. "Politics... What have politics got to do with it?"
A third spoke up. "Now is not the time, Yuraku. If he wants a trial, he may have a trial. Second, if you would?"
Yuffie nodded, once. "Say something, Gang Wu. Just... just tell me why."
Gang Wu closed his eyes, bowed his head. "I thought you could not rule a unified Wutai— I thought you could not rule at all. I was in error."
Yuffie's face hardened. "Chang Sho Tzu, Nishi Ichiro. I remand the traitor into your custody."
And it was over, just like that. Sho Tzu and the third ninja lifted up Gang Wu by his shoulders, taking him heavily from the room.
Cid bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Two short Wutaian men herding out a very tall Wutaian man, all of them looking angry as fuck.
For whatever reason, he just found it funny.
Day 3
Yuffie stood on the Bridge of Heaven, looking into the river. It would be thirty-three days before she could bury her father. Thirty-three days.
And until then, he would lie, wrapped, in the preparation room in the cemetery. Her gaze automatically went downstream, to the cemetery building.
In a little over a month, she would be storing both her parents in there. To float forever in an air-tight coffin, drifting and bobbing along the surface of an indoor lake.
Both of her parents. Both.
No more laughing with her father. No more arguments. No more fistfights. No more late-night games of Go, no more salting his tea, no more confessing their hopes for their country. No more tight hugs, no more of him surprising her by putting flowers in her obi, no more repairing his geta just because she could.
The tears came again, and she couldn't seem to stop them. It was like a river, like a flood, like all of her weaknesses pouring out.
She turned away, looking up, and nearly walked into Vincent. She would have walked into him, in fact, if he hadn't moved to the side.
"Yuffie."
She smiled at him, but it wasn't a good smile. It was a fake smile.
But it was what he needed to see, right? She needed to be cheerful for her country, for her friends.
Right?
"I am... sorry." His voice was deep, heavy, beautiful. "It is hard, to lose one you love. You should not have had to face it so early."
She shook her head. "If not now, then when would he have died, huh? A year from now? Two years? Five, at the most."
"Perhaps ten." Vincent gave her a crooked smile. "Perhaps, had Tsen Li not killed him, he would have lived forever. Too crazy to die."
She laughed. "I thought that was me."
He shook his head, but his smile straightened out. It was tiny thing, but it was beautiful and perfect. "No."
She moved towards him. Almost surprisingly, he didn't move away.
They were too close, too close. In public. Her reputation—
It was shit, anyway.
She didn't actually fling herself at him. It wasn't a throwing sort of thing, no. She just moved close to him, looking up at him.
"You sure? I'm pretty crazy."
"I'm sure."
She brought her hand up, until it rested flat on his shirt.
He looked down at her, totally serious. He didn't move away, just watched her.
She rested her head on his chest.
His right hand came up. It lingered along the back of her head.
"I am sorry," he murmured to the top of her head.
"It's not your fault." She looked up.
Their faces were so close again. And sure, it was in public, but what could it hurt, really?
She stood on her tiptoes, one hand sliding to his cheek. Not just letting him know what she wanted, but also because she just wanted to touch him.
He bent towards her. His grip on the back of her head tightened.
Their lips met.
It was perfect.
This time, he was the one who opened their mouth first. She opened her mouth for him, and soon his tongue was thrusting between her lips.
His right hand slid from her head. It teased along her neck, down her spine, until he was gripping her waist.
Both of her arms found their way around his neck. One hand slipped into his hair— that short, soft hair.
She could feel the heat of his body through her clothes.
He broke the kiss, suddenly gasping for breath.
She loosed her grip on him, though she dug her hands into his shoulders, to keep her balance.
He moved out of her grasp. "Yuffie— I—"
She shook her head. "Don't apologize."
But he apologized anyway. And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the river.
EL FIN
Completed Sunday,19 February, 2006.
So long, and thanks for all the fish.
No, this is the end.
Really.
Of this fic, anyway.