Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is property of Square-Enix. I write this for my own enjoyment, and intend no infrigement or profit.
Hero of the Day
"They're off to find the hero of the day
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way?"
- Metallica, "Hero of the Day"
Part I
They clashed, Lifestream and Holy battling against Meteor's dark intent. A sea of green flooded the area, growing in brightness and intensity until it was blinding. It was breath taking; unreal in its beauty. The light died down as quickly as it arrived, leaving a darkness none had seen since the appearance of Meteor. To the remainders of AVALANCHE - 'terrorist' organization turned world-saviors - that clung to various protruding objects inside the battered remains of the soaring Highwind, the darkness brought mixed feelings.
Yuffie wasn't enjoying the flight. She had never really enjoyed flight in the first place, and this last installment, while realizing it was the only way to live, made her stomach do a series of backflips. Grasping blindly at a wall for support, she stared out of the main window, and grinned when she saw the black skyline. "We did it!" she exclaimed happily.
The ship U-turned, soaring towards the monolithic jungle of steel and concrete that was Midgar. Everyone remained eerily silent as they gazed out of the smeared windshield. With knit brows, she frowned at everybody's speechlessness and staggered forward, being forced to use a slightly dazed Cid Highwind as her anchor to keep from falling flat on her face. Much to her surprise, the brusque pilot said nothing, and merely held out his arm slightly to steady her before turning his attention back to the darkness.
She joined in cluelessly, unsure of just what they were all looking. She wasn't so full of herself to think she knew everything…at least, not anymore. None the less, she questioned what they were seeing that she wasn't. They won. What else was there? "I don't get it," she said with a sigh, gaining Cid's attention.
"Get what?" he answered quietly, barely more than a hoarse rumble.
She motioned her head around the cockpit. Careful not to disturb the delicately morose atmosphere, she kept her voice to a whisper. Yuffie figured she didn't want to see what would happen if she interrupted their thoughts. "What's the deal with everybody?"
He shrugged slightly, frowning. "Guess they're in a retrospective mood."
She quirked an eyebrow in sardonic amusement. "Big word for you."
"I'm foul-mouthed, not stupid," he replied, annoyed.
She sneered to hide her lack of a retort. A moment later, she grumbled, "Still haven't answered my question." He remained silent and gazed into the oblivion oddly, as if pained. "And what's with the long face? We won!"
Yuffie, when she witnessed his muscles tightening, realized a second too late that she tweaked his temper. Cid whirled his head around, glaring down at her with smoldering blue eyes. "Grow the hell up, brat! Life ain't like that!"
At any other moment in time, she would have either argued or become verbally abusive - knowing her track record, probably both - but she was too tired to feel indignant. "What the hell are you talking about, old man?"
He continued to glower at her angrily, opening his mouth to prepare a flurry of expletives to flow. However, uncharacteristically for the Cid Highwind she had come to know, he regained his composure. Chuckling bitterly, he shook his head, looking out the window. "Y'know, I almost envy you."
She blinked. This was strange territory she was entering into, and she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to cross the threshold or not. "Why?"
Sighing, he patted his dust-covered jacket for a pack of cigarettes, dropping the remains of the one he had smoked beneath his heel with a weak crunch. "Yer youth, kid." Finally finding a half-smoked one in an inner pocket, he fished it out and placed it between his lips. "Hmph. 'Youth; wasted on the young.'" He searched again for a lighter to no avail. "Aw, dammit." Growling, he ripped the tube from his mouth, placing it back where he had found it.
Her eyes instinctively narrowed. "My youth? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
He nodded, chewing on his lower lip, for the lack of anything better to do. "Yeah. 'Cause you're young. Ya don't know how the world works yet." She crossed her arms over her chest, his words pricking at her ire. Before she could protest his statement, though, he continued. "Look, kid, as much as ya might like to think ya do, ya don't, trust me. I was in yer place once, and I thought the same damn thing. But when I got older…" He snorted to himself. "Never thought I'd live to see the day when I heard myself say that. God, I'm gettin' old."
She bit back a sigh of annoyance. "You still haven't answered my question."
The pilot stared at her for a moment blankly, before returning his cerulean eyes to the velvety darkness outside the remains of his beloved Highwind. Yuffie took the area in, mentally kicking herself. She may not have exactly liked the guy, foul-mouthed blow-hard that we was, but it was his ship that had been reduced to a small escape craft. And here she was, barraging him with questions as to why he was feeling a little down.
He sighed, wearily leaning on the ridiculously complicated looking control panel that piloted the small airship. "Ya wanna know what I'm talkin' about?" She nodded, remaining silent. His eyes flickered out to the blackness before resting on her youthfully curious face. "Not everybody won, kid."
She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean? I don't get it."
He smirked sadly, his eyes languidly traveling back outside to the fast approaching city. "Think about it for a sec. Midgar's the biggest city on the face of the goddamn planet. And that's exactly where Meteor, Holy, and the Lifestream all went. Now, what're the odds that the city's still intact after all that?"
Slowly, as Cid explained, her eyes widened as the true horror of what he was saying sank in. Midgar played shelter to millions of people, literally stacked on top of one another. It was strong and powerful enough to fight and win against her people. All of that, wiped out…? "But…Reeve just said a few minutes ago that he had everybody take refuge in the slums. There has to be someone alive."
"I hope, kid, I hope," he answered tiredly, sighing. "But, chances are, the entire city's now a wasteland," he finished, edged with a certain finality that she found very disconcerting. Out of the corner of her enlarged eyes, she saw some of the others tense, and some outright shudder.
Their movements were not lost upon the older pilot, who regrettably fell silent. For a moment, she felt angry. So what if it was a wasteland! They all would've died anyway if it weren't for them! They made the world safe! Yuffie instantly took that thought back. She of all people knew the world was never a safe place. Glancing at the other members of the rag-tag renegade band, she wondered if that was the source of their sadness; the thought that even though they saved the world, it would still be prey to such terrors as it had been before, and that would never change.
Moments passed in electrifying silence, before his tall frame straightened, inhaling deeply. Her eyes dropped to the metallic floors, her stomach churning from a nausea borne of helplessness and failure instead of the usual motion sickness. She wasn't used to feeling guilty. In other circumstances, she still might not have. However, it hurt to know that somehow, despite all their work, everything still came out the same. The world was saved, but only to live in the way it had always been before; blind to its bruises and deaf to its cries for help.
A heavy hand fall upon her thin shoulder. Finally, she looked up to see Cid's chiseled lips tugged up into a ghost of a grim smile. "Welcome to the real world."
She harrumphed as he looked away, back to the helm. She watched him take manual control of the craft, his head tipping and turning with a mechanical choppiness as his expression grew increasingly agitated. "Shit," Highwind muttered heatedly.
Cloud, AVALANCHE's leader and resident head-case, pivoted in mild interest. "What?"
Yuffie felt the steel begin to vibrate through the soles of her shoes. Cid, no doubt, had noticed the shaking long before she ever had. "Systems ain't responding," he hissed, his hands whisking quickly about the helm as the shuddering of the floor became a low rumble of the bulkheads around her. "And the landing gears've been shot to hell." Cracked pipes hissed steam in defiance, a background thrum to the screaming of the metal beneath her feet. The sounds, utterly gruesome, did not dissipate as she barely made out a wall of charred dirt arching toward them. "Shit!" Cid roared, jerking the wheel violently to the right, sending the airship veering off sharply.
Yuffie was sent flying, and it was a testament to her years of training in martial arts that she was able to land on the unforgiving steel paneling without breaking anything. She hit the floor hard, yelping in pain at the flame-tipped knives stabbing into her hip. Barret landed in a heap next to her, the heavy metal gun grafted onto his right arm slamming scant inches in front of her face with a thundering clang.
Warning sirens were now blaring as the two of them struggled to their feet, Yuffie clutching the first thing bolted to the hull. "Hold on everybody!" Cid shouted, desperately battling with the helm.
"Thanks for the warning!" Yuffie barked harshly over the sirens, clinging to a small hand-hold for dear life as she was flailed about like a rag doll. She doubted he even heard her, either due to the inhuman noises or his concentration set solely upon trying to survive. Frankly, she didn't care. If she walked out of this at all, she'd be content.
She kept the handle in a deathgrip as her entire body flew off the floor, lurching upwards. Gritting her teeth in pain, she felt fire engulf her entire shoulder, distantly noting the sound of a wet pop. Through slit eyes, she witnessed various members of the Highwind crew haplessly careening to the back of the bridge at break-neck speeds. Their shrieks of fear only added to the barrage of sounds that pelted her ears.
Time seemed to visibly slow as the doomed ship plummeted. Her eyes locked upon the dark-skinned renegade that landed next to her moments before. His one good arm was clawing madly at anything he could grab, his fingernails scraping against the smooth steel. Slowly, inexorably, he continued to slide backwards, his raven eyes alight with the realization of his impending death. Anyone else in his position would have been shrieking in panic, as illustrated by various members of the Highwind crew, but Yuffie had learned early on that Barret feared only for his young daughter, Marlene. Yuffie herself never truly understood how to be afraid for someone else's life; ninja generally never cared for another's well-being, and most certainly not before their own.
She abruptly decided to change that.
She took out her weapon, the Conformer, and hefted it in her hand. She hurled the five-pointed, crimson tipped shuriken as hard as she could towards Barret, watching as the razor sharp points effortlessly tore into the the floor until it was buried half-deep in dull gray metal. Gratefully, the rebel reached for it, his fingers gripping it tightly.
Time reasserted itself when a coarse, tobacco-thick voice boomed, "SHIT! Brace for impact!" Before her mind could even fully register what he'd screamed, the skin-crawling sound of steel grinding and buckling against stone and dirt filled her ears. The red emergency lights that provided the illumination went out in a shower of sparks, shimmering about her in a chaotic ballet of flame and metal in the otherwise dark compartment. Her already mangled shoulder cracked loudly as her backside slammed against a bulkhead. She growled in pain; the tendrils of white-hot flame saturating her left arm merely redoubling her efforts to hold on.
Shouts and screams exploded around her as she felt the quake of the landing through her entire body. Her legs swung forward against her will, her torso following suit. Yuffie felt her grip slip from the iron run as she continued into the darkness. For a moment, a light flashed, illuminating a steel vent that was directly in her path of the mass of crushed steel below hurtling towards her. The light disappeared as quickly as it came, and she was enveloped in darkness.
Everything hurt like hell.
No, she amended that thought. Hell would have been vastly less painful than the sensory information that was bombarding her brain at that moment. Her limbs screamed and sobbed their protest to the beating they took. She attempted to open her eyes, but found it to be too much work. Yuffie honestly didn't want to do anything but just sit and rest in wherever she was for a little while.
Her resting spot, however, begged to differ. Her position was uncomfortable to say the least; her body twisted beneath two large pieces of maligned steel-alloy. As much as she wanted to, she realized that her fatigue was most likely due to blood loss or shock. Which meant she would die if she did nothing, and after all the ninja had gone through, she'd be damned if she was going to die like that. She smirked ruefully to herself. She'd probably be damned either way, but that was beside the point. It seemed so very anti-climactic, not to mention stupid.
She hazarded to take a deep breath, and was slightly pleased when she didn't cough up blood or any other vital fluid. The next step was to see if she could move. She shifted her body, shoving one half of a section the bridge deck from her chest, only swearing a few times in the process. Her left arm was throbbing, yet her shoulder was oddly numb. She had a feeling that wasn't a good thing, for obvious reasons. However, a dose of full cure materia would have patched that right up.
Yuffie brought her other hand over her face, wiping away grime and soot, before running her fingers through her short locks of matted down black hair. After blinking, she opened her dark eyes, scanning the area for anything. She was still inside the main section of the Highwind, or what was left of it. From what she could gather, the ship had careened off to the right, most of the front and port section of the ship being crushed like a can under the intense speed at which they hit the ground. She craned her neck above, staring out into what bits of night sky she could make out. The starboard side of the hall, while more intact, had been blown out in several areas; most likely from the explosions.
Maneuvering around, Yuffie brought herself to her knees, gazing around the mangled remains of Cid Highwind's beloved ship. The parts of the windows on the bow that weren't crushed from impact were gone, the glass shattered into a million shards. It provided a simple enough way to get out, but she wasn't about to leave her friends. Especially since they had all the curative materia.
Several moans reached her ears, along with scraping of metal on metal. Glaring into the darkness, almost a complete entity in itself, Barret emerged, rubbing his hand on his head to shake it clear. Yuffie stood shakily, her hip aflame. She limped her way over to him, careful not to fall, and not to step on anyone that may be under the shrapnel. Holding out her hand, Barret grasped it, pulling himself fully out of the wreckage, quickly getting to his feet.
He towered over the petite teenager ninja, a muscular man of 6'4", with all the tattoos and scars to prove he earned his robust figure. Despite his appearance, she learned he was also a loving father who would have gladly died if it meant helping his daughter live a better life. Such people were hard to find in the world nowadays. But the group he surrounded himself with proved they still existed, even if in small numbers. "You okay?" she whispered, looking around.
He nodded curtly. "I'll live. How 'bout you?"
She motioned to her useless shoulder. "I guess I'll live too." Her eyes darted around for a moment. "You have any restore materia?"
He shook his head, carefully stepping down a slope to reach a dying workman. "Nah, Tifa had all that."
"Great," she muttered, gingerly walking around the jagged pieces of metal and glass that made up the port bow of the Highwind. Soon, more moans caught her attention, and she rushed into the night to find the source of it. It was Tifa, barely conscious, with several deep lacerations on her face and exposed skin, but otherwise unharmed. Kneeling down, Yuffie began to pry the large piece of scrap metal off of her, tossing it away. She gasped.
Laying over her stomach, unmoving, with several small spikes of steel protruding from his back, was Cloud. "Oh my God, Barret, you better get over here!" she called, a tinge of desperation to her voice she wasn't used to hearing. Tentatively reaching down, she felt for a pulse. A wave of relief flooded her as she felt his neck veins beating strongly against her fingertips. The wounds, while painful to look at, didn't seem to be very serious. The shards only dug in perhaps three-quarters of an inch into his skin, and she saw him fit for movement. Looping her arm around his torso, she gracelessly dragged him off the woman's smaller frame.
Barret reached her side and grabbed his other limp arm, helping her with the load. Cloud was large by no means; 5'7", and rather scrawny at that. The only thing, in fact, large about the ex-SOLDIER - aside from his choice in weaponry - was his spiky blond hair that seemed to defy the laws of physics. But he had power far stronger than he appeared to have been possible. Both Yuffie and Barret knew that personally.
They rested him upon the wall, positioning him so he would remain sitting yet not touch the small steel spines resting in his back. Yuffie, being the more experienced of the two, rifled through the pockets of their incapacitated leader. As she expected, her search turned up no curative materia. However, her finding no materia whatsoever struck her as odd.
Chalking it up to the bumpy ride, her tiny frame made her way back to Tifa, who now was coherent enough to speak. "…Cloud…is -"
"He's fine," Yuffie replied quietly, resting her hand upon the battered woman's shoulder. "A little roughed up, but fine." Tifa, like Yuffie, was small in frame, her bust being the exception. But, like Cloud, her lithe form held a deadly power. Taught by the famous martial artist instructor Zangan from a young age, Tifa knew how to use her fists in more ways than she knew how to use a shuriken. Yuffie sighed wearily, wincing in pain at her left arm. "Where's your restore materia?"
The buxom woman blinked her chestnut eyes, sitting up from the destruction. Wiping a stray strand of brown hair away from her face, she searched her gloves and gauntlets for any trace of the Full Cure or the Restore materia. "Weird," Tifa murmured softly, looking up to the ninja, who was her junior by four years. "I can't find any of it."
The shinobi nodded, mentally regretting the movement. "Yeah, same thing happened with me, Barret and Cloud. Not one damn piece of materia is in sight." She harrumphed, again getting rewarded with protests by her weary body. "And I have a feeling I don't want to know why."
"Yeah," Tifa answered lamely, struggling to her feet.
For over a half an hour, they surveyed the wreckage, scouring it for either curative materia or survivors. The synthetic machine, Cait Sith, was found demolished underneath a piece of the bulkhead. Red XIII, the cat-like creature, was found with his paws broken, unable to walk. Various members of Cid's crew were found in the debris; some alive, others dead or dying. Vincent, the former Turk turned shape-shifting monster, was nowhere to be seen. Only the tattered remains of his cloak were found hanging on a jagged edge of metal, near a large hole in the hull. Yuffie could only surmise that the monster within him had finally taken complete control.
They searched, but could find no sign of the last of their troupe, the pilot of the ship who most likely saved their very lives, Cid Highwind. She again felt that tumultuous cauldron of guilt in her stomach, and she came to the conclusion that she utterly despised it. Most of the bow had been buried, and she hadn't seen him move from his spot once. A Captain true to form, even down to the cliché "a captain goes down with his ship".
She sat upon a flat section of steel, right around the area she imagined the controls for the ship would have been, and stared down to her feet. Yuffie wasn't sure what to do. Nothing made sense anymore. Cid had been right when he told her she didn't understand how life worked, and again when he said 'not everybody won'. She had personally witnessed two men die a painful, gruesome death. It wasn't as if she hadn't been exposed to violence before, but in her eyes, these men did nothing but help her and her friends. For some reason she couldn't quite fathom, their deaths shook her to the very core. "This is the real world?" she grumbled sullenly. "Then the real world sucks ass."
"…wat…cher mouth…brat…"
Her head shot up, eyes widened to saucers. She grinned, never once enjoying hearing that scratchy voice calling her a brat more in her life. "Cid?" she nearly shrieked, her head whipping about for signs of him anywhere. Her voice gained the attention of the others, who all came racing to her aid. "Cid? Where the hell are you?"
"…under…underneath ya…" came the rasped reply.
She bolted up, frozen, her acute eyes searching the area. Almost as some sort of cosmic joke, she found the tip of his fingers jutting from hellish wreckage right beside her feet. The others capable of walking, which consisted only of Tifa, Barret, and a few engineers, dashed through the darkened mass of steel and cable to aid their friend. Yuffie at that moment became eternally grateful for meeting such honorable, good-hearted people.
Cursing her now useless left arm, she wrenched some of the slabs off while kicking others away with her feet in pent up frustration. The small crowd joined in, tearing at the debris. With help from Barret's ample musculature, the teenager yanked the last piece of metal off of him, appraising the embattled pilot for any wounds.
Cid groaned sluggishly, wincing as he moved. She leaned forward, holding her good arm out for him to grasp onto. He gazed at her for a moment as if she had grown horns on her head, before readily accepting her outstretched hand. She steadied herself as the blond tugged her arm forward, further straining her already stiffened and overtaxed muscles. She managed to hold her ground, though, until he finally made his way to his feet, stumbling about for a moment. Brushing himself off, he growled in pain, his gloved hand going to his side underneath the folds of his tattered jacket. Seconds later he pulled his hand out, and her eyes locked onto the dark liquid that was smeared upon the worn brown leather.
Flinching, Cid's eyes darted about. "Who's got the restore materia?"
Tifa merely shrugged. "We can't find any."
He frowned, glancing at his blood-smeared hand. "Shit," he muttered. "What about potions?"
Everyone's eyes fell upon her. Yuffie blinked. Why did they always think she was stealing their items? She would have been offended if she hadn't known that they were more often than not right. Sighing, she searched all her pockets, even the hidden ones she used for when she did actually steal their items, yet came up empty. She shook her head mutely, shrugging.
He rubbed his eyes wearily with his clean hand, sucking in a deep breath. "Great. Just fuckin' dandy." Turning on his heel, Cid started up the hill of shrapnel and asked, "Where's Spike and the others?"
"Injured," Tifa replied quickly, following suit. Yuffie shrugged as much as she was able to and hiked up the hill as well. They continued for fifteen minutes, weaving their way through the destruction, looking at their friends in their various conditions. The worst seemed to be Red, who was incapable of walking. All others had either easily treatable wounds or were dead, which to her was a good thing. That way she would not have to watch another innocent person die. For a moment, she bitterly cursed ever meeting the rebel group. She never asked to have a soul.
Yuffie knelt down to the cat-like creature, resting her right hand on his side. "Don't worry, Red. You'll be patched up and back to your normal egghead self in no time."
His furred lip twitched upward, showing a couple pristine, razor sharp teeth off. "I'm assuming that was a compliment."
"Alright, people, listen up," Cid commanded, his gravelly voice lined with steel. "We're gonna hafta make our way to Kalm to get supplies. Some of us here ain't in good shape." He paused, quietly adding, "Like me." Clearing his throat, she watched as he paced about them. "Barret, ya think you're able to carry Red to Kalm?"
Barret nodded curtly. Yuffie was somewhat surprised by his readily accepting Cid as the momentary leader. Ordinarily, he would have thrown a big fit about "that spiky-haired nutjob" taking the lead, when AVALANCHE was his outfit. Maybe, though, she surmised, he didn't really feel like putting up a fuss. After all, there were more important things at stake.
Cid returned the nod grimly. "Good. We'll start off tomorrow mornin'. We all need the rest."
Tifa stepped forward haltingly, her back to Yuffie. "What about Cloud?"
Cid stared at her for a moment, seemingly blind to her concern for him. A frown formed at the corners of his busted lip. "He'll be fine, we just need to get to Kalm."
The small brunette shook her head, her voice lowering. "No, I mean, how will he get there? He's not in any condition to walk."
"If ya wanna look at it that way, neither am I," the lean blond answered tersely.
She put her hands on her hips. "You don't have spikes sticking out of your back."
It was quite obvious to the ninja that Cid was beginning to lose his patience. "No, but I got a nice sized gash in my side that's just beggin' for an infection." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Look, we're all in bad shape. I'll tell ya what…if he ain't able to walk by tomorrow mornin', I'll carry him. 'Kay?"
Her head shot up, her entire body going rigid with his request. "Y-you will?"
He nodded. "Ain't no big deal, Teef. Relax, okay?"
She nodded slowly, pacing off to be with her long time friend; Yuffie spying her wiping stray tears away as she walked. She turned to speak to Red, to find his one golden eye closed. A pang of panic surged through her as she gazed at his unmoving form, only to realize that he had fallen asleep. He was in no immediate danger, she reminded herself quickly. Broken feet did not lead to death.
Patting Red softly once more, she rose to her feet, stretching. The tumbling act she went through did a number on her muscles. She hated having to stretch. It seemed such a waste of time that she could've spent acquiring materia. However, she also recognized that without it, she'd never be able to get away with half of her acrobatics, and so, she ground her teeth and proceeded.
Bringing her fingers to her toes, a soft rasping sound wafted to her sensitive ears. She froze in place, listening intently to the foreign noise. It sounded like a cross between sobbing and panting. Curious, she made her way over to the source of the quiet noise, stepping cautiously and silently on the shards of metal and glass. The huffing never became louder as she neared the reverberation; in fact, it seemed to get softer as she stepped closer, like the source of the sound was afraid to alert her to their presence.
Stepping down from a ridge of debris, her deep eyes met the source. It was one of the Highwind's workers; sprawled upon a chunk of metal, unmoving and barely breathing. His arms and legs were bent at impossible angles, crushed beyond repair. The most volatile wound, though, was the large iron rod jutting from his abdomen, which most likely prevented him from moving even an inch any way without causing excruciating pain and possible spinal cord injuries.
Yuffie, possibly for the first time in her life, was speechless. It was amazing he had lived so long as he did such a severe wound like that. Either way, she was certain he wasn't going to live much longer without some sort of curative materia. Which, she noted with a bitter taste, was conveniently missing. Life sucked. "He-elp…m-me…" he gasped.
She grimaced. The sight of blood made her skin crawl, and yet it was his eyes that captured her attention. They were silently pleading - begging - for her to give him some sort of respite from his pain. The small part of her that actually gave a damn about people pitied him. There was nothing she could do, and she was tempted to just walk away from him, to rid herself of the annoying need to comfort him. None the less, she didn't. He probably deserved more than to just die alone in the middle of the night.
She moved forward, kneeling down next to the mortally wounded full-fledged pilot. She sneered to herself angrily. She had never even bothered to learn his name, and a nagging part of her asked why she even cared at all. Six months ago, she would've just walked away from his prone form, turning up her nose in disgust at his wounds. But now…no. She wouldn't bother cursing her friends for making her a better person. At least, not at the moment.
Impulsively, she reached up, tugging her blood-splotched green bandanna off of her head. Wadding it up as much as she could, she wiped the blood and sweat from his face with a surprisingly maternal touch. He smiled weakly, his panic stricken face calming instantly by her touch. His reaction somehow pleased her. She was helping.
Within two minutes, his deep mahogany eyes had fluttered shut, his breathing slowing to nothing. She frowned, clutching the bloody cloth in her hand, which still hovered over his cooling forehead. Sullenly pulling her small hand back, she stood and mourned a man she never knew.
Yuffie didn't know him, or any of the other members of the Highwind crew, yet it still struck a damaging blow to her psyche to see someone wither and die before her very eyes. Her father hadn't exactly sheltered her from death and destruction. In fact, he encouraged her when she a was a child to go to the hospital and burn wards that were around, and soak in the violence. "That is your heritage," he had told her. "Death, honor, pain, tradition. Watch, and understand."
She never again stepped foot inside a hospital, ramshackle or otherwise.
Shaking the imposing memories away, her acute eyes caught a lone shadow standing on the crest of a debris hill. She figured she already knew who it was, but was none the less curious as to what they were looking at, if anything. With a somber spring in her step, Yuffie climbed the steep slope in less than a minute, taking a standing position to the immediate left of the stiff form. He seemed utterly oblivious to her presence, his eyes gazing out to some unknown point.
Silent for once, her midnight eyes traveled over him, surveying just how bad he looked. His broad shoulders were slumped in exhaustion, his chiseled features more jagged and dangerous looking in the minimal light as they cast shadows over his half-closed eyes. His face, like hers, was smeared with grime and sweat, the portions of skin not tarnished sallow. Stray locks of sandy blond hair that would have normally been held into place by his antique flight goggles fell listlessly into his face, making his appearance that much more haggard. His clothes were torn and dirty; his flight jacket, once the finest looking piece in his attire, was now only a notch or two above a thick blue rag. It was then she noticed his left hand was clasped against his side. On impulse, she asked, "How are you holding up?"
He paused. She presumed he was about to lie before thinking better of it, or simply dodging the extra effort. "Not too good, you?"
Instinctively, her hand squeezed the bandanna tighter in her hand. "Could be worse."
His frown deepened, what little light there was forming it into a frightening scowl. "Yeah, it could be," he replied, quietly. "Y'know how many crew members there were on the Highwind?"
"No," she answered honestly.
He snorted. "Of course ya don't, you were too damn busy blowin' chunks in my engine room."
She shrugged in the way only a teenager could do. "Hey, sue me for being airsick."
"And trust one a those blood-suckin' lawyers? Hell no," he shot back, half joking.
Her thin lips rose in a small grin. "You never could trust anybody."
He glanced her way, all mirth vanishing from his voice. "And what the hell makes you think that?"
She started. Their playful banter was a welcome change from their usual shouting matches, and his sudden shift back to the old routine was unexpected. Gathering her words for a moment, she replied, "You don't trust me."
"You're damn right I don't trust ya! Ya stole all my goddamn materia!" he hissed, glaring at her.
Her jaw tightened. She hated it when people accused her of things. "I gave it all back, you know."
"After we tracked yer sorry ass down and made ya give it back, yeah!" he retorted.
She scowled, clenching her hand into a fist. "What, so you can't trust me because of one little theft?"
He snarled, glaring down at her petite form. "First off, it was more than one time, but that ain't why I don't trust ya," he answered, slowly. "I don't trust ya because you're a rude, self-centered, air-headed, spoiled little brat that don't even comprehend the word 'responsibility', much less ever show it."
She blinked, taken aback. It wasn't like she had never heard comments like those before spoken about her, if not directly at her. She had heard them several times from various people, mainly her father. And she couldn't count the times she'd heard that speech from Cid himself before. However, anger wasn't at fault for his harsh words as it usually was. Anger was understandable. She knew she could piss him off; that's what she did best, push people's buttons. But this time, it was something else that fueled him. Fatigue. Pain. Desperation.
He continued through her silence. "I just watched seven of my crewmen die in less than twenty minutes, 'cause my stupid goddamn miscalculations. It was my responsibility to keep 'em alive. They trusted me with their lives, and they sure as hell paid for it. So don't gimme any lip on what trust means, got it?"
She dropped her gaze to her feet, thoroughly abashed. Moments later, she heard a soft sigh. "Look, kid," he began gruffly, bordering on remorsefully, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at'cha like I did."
Yuffie shook her head. "No, you're right. I am irresponsible, and spoiled, and all that other nice crap you said. You have every right not to trust me."
"Yeah, well, I ain't got no choice right now," the pilot muttered with a sigh. She furrowed her brows, curious, and looked up at the lean blond, waiting for him to continue speaking. "Kid, I ain't doin' so good. If I'm gonna hafta be carryin' Cloud's skinny ass all the way to Kalm, then chances are, I ain't gonna make it there. Barret may, but it won't make a shit's difference if everyone's laggin' behind for me."
She had a sinking feeling that she knew where this was going. "What's your point?"
He scowled at her, stamping his foot on the ground. "Dammit, girl, do ya even have a brain in yer head? Think about it for a sec!"
Little did he realize she already had. She didn't survive as a ninja by her good looks. "You plan to stay behind?"
He simply nodded.
Her reply was immediate. "Why?"
He sighed wearily. "Kid, I already explained -"
She squared her shoulders. "Well it sounds like a bullshit explanation to me."
He blinked his smoky eyes, surprised. "What?"
The ninja met his stunned gaze evenly. "Your reason. It's bullshit."
He scoffed incredulously. "How do ya figure that?"
"You're not the only one that can carry Cloud, you know," she replied. "One of your crew can do it."
"There are only three left, and they're all injured. Barret can't do it, and I don't think Tifa could either," he clarified calmly. "Who else is gonna do it? You?"
She conceded to that point with a slight nod of her head. "Okay, but you may not even have to carry him. Cloud could be capable of walking on his own."
"Maybe," he said, "but maybe not. Life's got a funny way of throwin' the unexpected at ya. I personally wanna be prepared when she wants to be a bitch and do just that."
She frowned. "Wait a minute, why does Life have to be a 'she'?"
"'Cause a man ain't smart enough to be this twisted," he replied, deadpan.
She chuckled heartily, shaking her head. "Cute, very cute."
He gaped at her, his grimy eyebrow arched in amusement. "I've heard a lot descriptions 'bout me…'cute' was never one of 'em."
"Yeah, well, there's always a first time," she commented impassively.
He nodded in affirmation. "Exactly. Which is why I'm stayin' behind."
She rolled her dark eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Oh please, stop trying to play the damn hero. You can't stay behind," she spoke.
"Oh?" he answered. "And why the hell not?"
"You know it takes almost a full day to get from Midgar to Kalm on foot," she hissed, glaring at him angrily.
"But we're not in Midgar, are we?" he retorted, his lip curled up in the slightest of dark smirks.
"No, but we're all injured. That alone is going to make it a longer trip," she amended with an aggravated frown.
He shrugged lightly. "I can manage on my own."
"No, you can't," she stated defiantly, ignoring his heated, questioning glare. "There's nothing here to eat, or to drink, not to mention the fact that there are still monsters everywhere. It'll be a death sentence, and you know it."
To her surprise, he shifted his weight to one foot, shoving his hands in his pockets non-chalantly. "What's your point?"
She scowled at him, her eyes narrowing in determination. "I'm not leaving you behind, Cid."
He returned her facial expression to a T. "Since when did ya grow a conscience, brat?"
She set her jaw, biting back a scream of frustration. "Since now. And if you don't like that, you can kiss my ass. You can't stay here, and I'm sure as hell not leaving you here, not with that cut in your side." She remained silent for several seconds to think of an alternative solution. Cid was a hard-ass, and never accepted anything less than perfection.
Taking a deep breath, she voiced the first viable plan that came to mind. "Look, maybe, um…maybe you, me and a few others can travel to Kalm at our own pace while the rest of them go on ahead and bring it back to wherever we are. Does that sound like a good plan?"
He glowered down at her, the muscles in his jaw rolling as he ground his teeth together. Her face remained stoic as she grinned inwardly. She loved it when she one-upped him. "And if I say no?"
She smirked triumphantly. "You won't."
"How do ya know that?"
"Because I know you," she answered. Before he could interrupt, she added, "At least, well enough to know that you're only doing this because you know your limitations. But if there's a shot in hell that you can manage to get out of this alive, I know you'll take the odds." She watched him for a moment, gauging his reaction carefully. "Am I right?"
He attempted to look profound and stern, but came off only as extremely annoyed. She fought the urge to grin. Sighing, he relented. "Okay, brat, ya got a point. But, you ain't goin with me."
Her face fell, confused. "Why not?"
He pointed his gloved finger at her, a serious expression on his face. "Because you're gonna be on point with the other group."
She blinked. "On point?"
He frowned deeply. He had to remind himself she wasn't military. That and she wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. "On point. In the lead."
She paled, her eyes widening. "You're kidding, right?" He shook his head gravely. "But you don't trust me!"
He shrugged. "Like I told ya, kid, I ain't got no choice. Tifa's not gonna leave Cloud, and I doubt Barret'll be able to fend off monsters with Red sprawled over his shoulders." He sighed, absent-mindedly patting his torn jacket for a cigarette. "So, you up to it?"
She grinned. "Like you said, 'I ain't got a choice'."
He snorted, shaking his head. "Kid, yer impression of me sucks."
Stepping off the ledge, she hopped down a few levels with ease. "You're welcome."
"Go to bed, brat."
Her grin only widened. "Sweet dreams to you too, old man."
To be continued…