I still love Yuffie.
o o o
Sephiroth walked the main street of Wutai's capitol without fear. They needed to see, to know, to believe that he was real, that he, the great enemy, was walking through their city without being challenged. They needed to learn that they were defeated, that Shinra practically owned their asses. He mentally smiled. The proud Wutai, bowed under his foot. All of them glared, from doorways, from windows, from darkened alleys. He caught glimpses of the infamous Wutaian shuriken as they were fingered and stowed away, of fists clentched in rage, of faces clentched in sorrow. He was coming from the world-famous pagoda, where he had laid Shinra's terms to the 'protectors' and heard their responses. Which, of course, had been just what he wanted to hear. Wutai was in Shinra's palm, what more, it was in his palm, and no one dared challenge him for it.
Well, almost no one.
The attacker was fast, little more than a small blur. He moved even faster, catching tiny wrists in his hands. He had his would-be assassin caught and held firm before he realived that it was a young, small girl barely past his waist in height. She shrieked insults and curses at him, far more than any young girl had any right to know, and in as many languages as Sephiroth himself knew - even a select few he didn't. She was twisting vainly against his grip, tugging and screaming, her eyes wide and grey-violet and full of such hate and murderous rage that the general had no doubt that if he let her go, she'd do her damnedest to kill him. He pegged her age at ten, maybe eleven, and after a brief moment, he realized he knew who she was, as well.
Godo's youngest child, his only daughter. He had two older sons, both who had challenged the general as he approached the city, and both who had fallen to him. One had died, the other would never walk again, and would be lucky if he'd ever see again. And now, this spitfire of a girl had decided to challenge him as well, after the battle was already won in his favor.
He smirked down at her as she finally tired herself out against his hands, glaring up at him, her thin chest heaving. "A lady of your station should not know such language, Lady Kisragi." He said smoothly, in perfect Wutaian.
"Do not speak our tongue, demon-bastard!" She shrieked in accented common, her back arching as she fought again to get away from him. "Your filthy feet don't even deserve to touch our poorest soil! I will not hear our language from you!"
"As you wish, m'Lady." He said in common speech, straightening and transfering both of her wrists to one hand. "But you have chosen a bad time to attack me, the war is finished."
"It'll never, ever be finished as long as you live!" She snapped defiantly, holding her head up proudly. "I'll never stop fighting against you!"
Sephiroth knelt to one knee, holding up her arms so they were nose to nose. "Grow up a bit first, girl." He said softly. "Gain the skill you need to hone that fighting spirit. Then maybe you'd be an interesting challenge. But for now you are just a child, and I would hate to deprive your father of his daughter. Go back to your home."
She spat in his face. "I'll be there to watch you die, demon-bastard." She hissed in Wutaian.
Ignoring the spittle running down his cheek, Sephiroth smiled. "The only reason I let you live now," he returned in Wutaian "Is so I can see how close you get to your promise, m'Lady." He let her go, standing again. She glared up at him for a moment, then turned and ran for the cover of a nearby alley. Wiping the spittle from his face, Sephiroth continued his walk, wondering idly if the girl would make good on her promise.
