Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII.
AN: This is a somewhat melancholy piece, and it has a bit more swearing than usual. And if you've been wondering why I always add in a large amount of vocabulary, it's because I'm studying for the SAT. Ha ha…so I guess if you're studying for the SAT as well, this would be good for practice. If you really wanted, I could define vocab at the end, but I doubt you'd be interested. This was incredibly long, and I don't think I will ever exceed this length for a chapter again.
.:Vicissitudes:.
Yuffie hated parties. Absolutely hated them. They were nothing more than excuses for Mr. Ego Puffer Fish (a.k.a. her wonderful father, Godo) to lure in unsuspecting investors. Godo said that it was all for Wutai's resurrection, and that insidiously finagling money from them was perfectly moral. Rectitude had never meant much for her so she actually agreed with him, but what truly annoyed her was the fact that she had to be present at the party.
Now, Yuffie was quite a gregarious person. Okay, so she might have stolen some materia or gil from various people, but that was no reason for people to avoid her. (Three summons, five commands, six support, and some thirty-odd magic materia weren't too much to steal from one person, right?) But she would rather act like Vincent and bury herself in a coffin for thirty years than face those endless flocks of pasty-faced courtesans with red slime smeared on their lips. Oh yeah, they called it makeup, but she preferred a more accurate description.
At the very least, for this year's Moon Festival (or time to buy ridiculously high-priced pastries at Wutai for only 250 gil each!), all of her friends were invited. Godo had resisted at first, but then she had personally screamed at him twenty minutes more than usual, threatened to destroy his wardrobe, and finally stated that she was going to elope with the first tall, dark, and deadly man she could find. After that one, her father caved and sent the gilded invitations to everyone, even Red XIII. How the cooks were going to accommodate his diet, she didn't know, but the solution probably involved extremely rare steaks.
As her maid Aki performed something like a Level 4 Limit Break on Yuffie's hair, she grimaced and thought about a certain tall, dark, and deadly man that was going to be present. The thought sent little butterflies of anticipation through her impatient heart, and she was so distracted that she did not even scream when Aki began honestly jerking her wind-swept hair into shape.
"You didn't shriek loudly enough to be heard on the other side of the pagoda this time, Lady Yuffie," remarked Aki with a slightly concerned air.
"Yeah…" muttered Yuffie as she wondered what Vincent was wearing. Was he going to appear in that cloak of his?
Aki glanced at the young princess, and swore there was a slightly lovesick look on her face. Wait…that wasn't right. Yuffie was supposed to beat suitors to bloody pulp, not actually consider them human enough to perhaps fall for them—no, it was probably a trick of the lighting. She shook her head and reminded herself to stop reading that My Bloody Valentine book that she had picked up recently. It was filling her head with too many thoughts of unrequited love and epic romance.
"It's nice that Lord Godo finally enlarged the palace, don't you think?"
"Yeah. The stingy old geezer finally got enough money to build that huge hall thing next to the lake. It's such a waste of money though."
"Yes, but it is sometimes necessary to maintain an appearance of wealth."
Yuffie sighed. Oh yes, because otherwise, no one would ever invest capital in a country with leaders that could not even afford a decent house. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her hand into a fist. If being at these parties could help Wutai in any way, she would do it.
…
As her geta clacked on the paulownia wood floors, she noted the addition of water lily-shaped lanterns floating on the lake surrounding the hall. The yellow flames inside flickered with the wind, radiating bubbles of warm light on the dark water. Now that night had fallen, the musicians had begun spinning their traditional melodies out into the warm air. As Yuffie took care not to ruin her pastel blue kimono by letting it catch on the slightly roughened wood of the railings, she saw the little village boys sitting in the struts of the walkways above the water, uninterestedly strewing flower petals onto the lake and having spitting contests with each other. One, a six-year old named Taro, spat at a frog and missed, and his amateur swearing reached her ears clearly.
"Watch your mouth, Taro!" screamed a disapproving Aki.
Yuffie frowned, and then delicately put a hand on her arm. Aki, surprised, drew aside immediately. Perhaps her little princess was finally growing up! Then Yuffie flipped out her fan, coyly placed it over her face, and reprimanded the boy. "Taro, it's 'damn that fucking piece of shit,' not 'damn all that fuck stuff,'" she called out sweetly, even fluttering the silk fan appropriately.
Her maid wilted, and Taro gave a little bow of thanks from the wooden struts beneath the walkway. "Thanks, Yuffie-hime! You're the best!"
As they completed the walk to the ball room, all Aki could do was moan and shake her head. Yuffie smirked; that was fun…but now was the time for less enjoyable things. Aki left, and Yuffie paused before the door, taking a deep breath and plastering a Scarlet-style fake smile on her face. She detested these events, but if Vincent and Cloud and Co. were going to be there, it was going to be bearable.
Keeping the fan firmly in front of her face, Yuffie quietly slid the shoji screens aside and stepped into the high-ceilinged ballroom, tiptoeing past a few buffet tables being set up on the tatami mats. Only a few harassed looking cooks and servants were in this corner, and most of the silk-encased guests were at the main entrance, waiting to greet the host and his daughter. Of course, they were having a bit of trouble, since the host's daughter had just sneaked in a back door. Yuffie snickered and crept along the well-lit walls, trying to find a nice, vacant balcony where she could easily avoid talking to vacuous social butterflies.
Struggling with her kimono, which had caught on the edge of a tatami mat, she did not see an approaching man and she bumped into him as her garment finally let go of the mat that it had fallen in love with. Feeling a sudden warm body contact with hers, she gasped and whirled, expecting to see her father. But then she recognized the shock of blonde hair and the distinctive Mako eyes. "Cloud?"
"Yuffie! You look great!" the swordsman whispered, then began pushing her forward, casting furtive looks around him as he maneuvered them back into the buffet corner.
"What the hell are you doing?" she stage whispered back as she turned around to face her friend. She raised an eyebrow appraisingly as she looked him up and down, taking in the details of his clothes. This was the first time she had ever seen him in a proper suit, and she had to admit that he looked pretty good, though his hands were currently wringing his silver tie and adjusting the lapels of his black suit. Yuffie noted that his hair was, as always, spiked as stiffly as ever. It seems that some things never changed.
"Hey Yuffie. If someone wanted to ask someone to do something with him, then how would he do it?" asked Cloud distractedly as he continued to mangle his clothing.
Wow. Pronouns were so not good for Cloud. "Well Cloud, I guess you could give that someone something and then do something else," she answered sarcastically. "And stop ripping at your clothes! You're going to look rattier than Barret does if you don't stop!"
"What's that about my clothes?" rumbled a deep, husky voice with a slum accent.
Yuffie jerked, and said, "I mean rattier than a girl named Barretta! Yes, I totally mean that! And how nice you look today, Mr. Wallace!" She smiled and turned to Barret, who was dressed uncharacteristically in dark brown suit.
"Yeah, cut the crap. If you weren't all dressed up, I'd give you a noogie."
"Oh yeah?" she stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose. "You want the truth? Then I have to say that your suit is a lovely shade of chocobo sh—"
"Guys! Shut up!" came Cloud's tenor with an edge of command in it. His blue eyes still scanning the effulgent walls of the ballroom, he leaned down conspiratorially to them. "Where do you think Tifa is?"
"I dunno," they answered absently. Yuffie glanced around and spotted Red XIII being admired by a number of young women who seemed to enjoy petting his coat very much, but there was no sign of Tifa. A small orchestra had begun playing a rather lively Wutaian dance, and some couples were moving onto the dance floor.
"She's probably looking for someone to—" Yuffie suddenly grasped the meaning of all of Cloud's rather ambiguous pronouns. "Wait! That's what you wanted to ask, right? You want to ask Tifa to dance!"
Barret blinked at Yuffie, then turned to Cloud incredulously. "That's what got you as hyper as the brat here?" he demanded, exasperated. "What do you have to worry about? She sure as hell is gonna say yes!"
"But what if she thinks that my hair is too ugly? Or what if she didn't like the gift I gave her on Valentine's? Oh god. I didn't even get a rose for her tonight! And who said I was talking about Tifa?" Normally, Cloud was a composed man. Now, he was about as far from composed as one could get. This was the first time Yuffie had seen Cloud show so much trepidation. He had probably shown less fear before they fought Sephiroth, for Leviathan's sake.
"Stop acting like a fried Beachplug, Cloud," she said in amusement. Watching how this played out would be immensely interesting—but suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm. Preparing to berate whoever had the boldness to grab her, the sexy, cultured, and kick-ass flower of Wutai, she snarled and whipped around to see her father's lined face glowering at her. She froze. Then she closed her mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Godo, dressed in richly embroidered robes of dark blue, let go of her arm and began yelling at her as well. "Stop being so loud!" he said, the last word deafening enough to make Cloud wince. "And where have you been? I had to say you were not feeling too well and that you were preparing for your dance!"
"WHAT!" she exclaimed not very calmly. "What dance? You didn't say anything about this!"
"Yes, you're going to lead the first formal dance," said Godo, a bit calmer now. Yuffie, on the other hand, was becoming increasingly agitated.
"Who's my partner then?" she demanded.
Godo shrugged. "Ask anyone. But I'd prefer if you asked Makoto over there; his father has quite a large sake company…"
She glanced over at Makoto and nearly regurgitated what food she had downed before the festival. Makoto was, to say the least, rather corpulent. More like a bag of pig fat bound by the sumptuous silks he was dressed in, to be exact. Turning back to her father, she answered dryly. "No thanks, I think I can find my own partner."
Godo nodded. "The dance starts in ten minutes, when we lift the lanterns. Hurry up!" With that, he walked back to the gathering of doll-like ladies and gentlemen, a solicitous smile planted on his face.
Yuffie turned back to her friends and found that Cloud was now twiddling his hands while Barret tried to keep his temper. "Hey guys, I'm going to go find someone to dance with, okay?" she called to them. Barret nodded distractedly and smacked Cloud's head with a heavy fist.
"Get a hold of yerself, man!"
She shook her head and scanned the ballroom. There was Tifa, a resplendent sight in her red gown; several men were following her in a manner best described as "female-starved canine," but she was doing a pretty good job of fending them off with a discreet kick here and there. Yuffie sighed and shook her head.
She would have loved to greet the fighter, but she had her own business to attend to. "Now, where is Mr. Dark, Tall, and Deadly?" she grumbled to herself. After all, she was going to elope with him, wasn't she? Might as well dance with him first. She spotted a gloomy, deserted corner or balcony that screamed "only for introverts and ghosts." Well, Vincent was a veritable hermit and an undead mako experiment, to boot. It was likely that she would find him there. She stepped out onto the balcony and looked out over the water. Here, it was quiet except for the occasional ribbet of a somnolent frog. Taking a breath of the cooling night air, she was about to leave when she heard a voice drifting from her left.
"…crecia…" The voice, so wistfully indigo, pulled at her heartstrings with its familiarity. She jerked to the side and saw a man standing in an adjacent balcony, about ten yards to her left. It seemed that she had found her quarry. With a smooth movement, she away from him and pulled a small hand mirror from her obi, angling it over her shoulder.
There stood a man, unmistakably Vincent, yet so different that he could have been another man, another Turk long ago. The suit was black, of course, and he wore it with a dignity that bespoke of times of roses and pianos, of letters written with fountain pens. His hair, customarily wild and untamed, was now brushed and held in a loose ponytail, though numerous locks still escaped to shadow his face. Now more than ever, Yuffie could see the long, dark lashes that swept over his red flame eyes. He seemed to be an eternal sentinel, gazing into the darkness while the immaterial flitted about him ephemerally.
A quiet splash pulled both their attention to the water, where the lanterns were rising from into the air in ethereal flight. As she glanced up into the sky, she gasped at the byzantine circles of floating lanterns. By some twisting of the Gravity materia, no doubt, some clever magic user was expending enormous energy to carefully lift every lantern from the air slowly, swirling them in an airborne dance of light. She had to admit, Godo knew how his stuff when it came to the night show.
"Such beauty…" Vincent whispered, and Yuffie carefully looked into her mirror again. She just needed to find a way to surprise him now, and she began tiptoeing back into the hall. But his next words caught her.
"If only you were here, Lucrecia," he sighed. There was such a painful nostalgia in that voice, like the lingering taste of fine wine that burned with its intensity.
"But then perhaps I would not be here…because you'd still love Hojo, wouldn't you?" He laughed bitterly. "Oh Lucrecia. If only I had stopped you…"
Something pricked at her heart. He still cared for Lucrecia, even after all these years—but why should she have been surprised? Vincent had willingly locked himself away in a coffin for three decades. She knew that he could have left at anytime, should he have wished, but he never did. This was a kind of love that she could not even fathom.
As she walked back into the balcony, she considered just avoiding the whole thing. She could just forget about it and dance with Makoto, maybe step on his toes a few times. But the thought left her disgusted; what kind of shinobi would just surrender so easily? She stomped her foot brusquely into the floor. "You're going to ask him, or else!" she said to herself. Or else she may never gain the courage.
Loudly clacking her way to Vincent's balcony, she steeled herself. As she approached the doorway, she saw that he was still there in that same position, leaning on the railing. He heard her immediately this time and stiffened before glancing back at her.
"Hey Vinnie," she said, watching his face carefully. He only nodded and moved slightly to make space for her beside him. Walking up to the offered spot, she scrutinized his every move out of the corner of her eye. "Um…nice night, huh?"
"Yes."
She fiddled with her obi. Now she knew why Cloud was such a wreck. She wondered if he noticed her nervousness, but he only looked ahead emotionlessly. Yuffie licked her lips and decided to just get it over with. "There's a formal dance in like two minutes, you know."
"…" She did not know if he even heard.
"And I'm supposed to lead it, so I have to dance with somebody."
He turned to her then, and her heart leapt. Did he somehow know what she was going to ask? Well, it shouldn't be difficult, considering the huge hint she had just dropped. A smile was itching to make its way to her face as she looked up at him.
But he did not see the hope that was alit in her eyes of translucent grey. All he saw was the shadow of joy that he had once seen in another woman, one that had left long ago. He placed his human hand lightly on Yuffie's shoulder and looked into her eyes with a distant gaze. "I wish happiness for whomever you choose to bless with your touch." He said the ceremonial benediction in Wutaian without a trace of an accent, and then he swept by her side and into the room with silent steps.
Left alone in the suddenly cold night air, Yuffie bowed her head, her stance unyieldingly stiff. A rebellious drop of warm liquid spilled from her eye, but she wiped it away quickly. No, it would not do for the princess of Wutai to be shedding tears for this.
…
She danced with Makoto that night, her face as serene as a morning lake. The flabby boy was not pleased that he had to expend energy to drag his vast body across a dance floor, but he did it anyway, a permanent sneer of ennui on his visage.
All remarked on how graceful the princess of Wutai looked, how exquisitely beautiful. And no one, not even Cloud or Tifa, saw the way her eyes flitted sometimes to a corner where a long-haired man stood. But as many times as she looked and wished, he never met her eyes. His were lost in a road of recall that wound eternally around a mansion in Nibelheim, where only the memory of a woman named Lucrecia dwelled.
…
AN: I told you it was melancholy. This was a pure, one-sided Yuffentine. Sorry for being so late in updating! I have a stupid UN paper to write. Ah well. The next chapter will be happier and shorter.
