Reason to Live

By mihoyonagi

Chapter 5

There wasn't anything said between us for the rest of the night. She cried against me until she had nothing left in her. Then, with sad, dull eyes she went back to vacuuming the carpets.

I left the room, not knowing what to do with the situation, let alone myself. A few minutes later I heard the machine turn off, followed by the distinct sound of the floor creaking as she eased herself onto the mattress.

I thought, dimly, about returning to the basement and spending the night in my coffin, but thought better of it. I could just imagine how the morning would play out before me: Yuffie would thunder down the stairs and I'd receive another good right hook to the face.

Which was the last thing I was looking for, to be honest.

So, resigned, I settled myself into the cushions of a musty old couch near the foyer and crossed my arms against my chest. I'd told her the kitchen, but I didn't feel like venturing there for now.

Sleep was something my body needed little of, given its state, but if I found myself comfortable enough I could easily fall into a bit of a nap. So, bearing such in mind, I closed my eyes and fell off into a light doze.

The eerie of the quiet house is what roused me not long after I'd fallen asleep.

One of the main descriptors used when thinking of Yuffie Kisaragi is, more often than not, loud. Sure, obnoxious is strewn in there more times than is comfortable, but I'd rather like to stay polite, if it can be helped. So when I say that Yuffie was within the walls of the house, and the entirety of the estate had lapsed into utter silence, it was enough to make one's skin crawl.

Not mine, per se, but the idea is understood effectively.

While my body remained motionless for the remainder of the night, and well into the bright hours of the early morning, I didn't fall back into slumber. I was tired and my mind drained, but I didn't wish to close my eyes again.

She'd be hungry when she woke up.

I hadn't purchased enough food previously to accommodate another meal for her.

The idea was bizarre, as it had not stemmed from a previous thought; it simply jumped into the forefront of my brain as something that needed attention. It was early enough that I didn't have to worry about her waking before I returned, so, feeling just as acquiescent standing up as I had felt when I'd sat hours before, I trudged my way to the door and out into the bright sunshine of the day.

I'm a morning person, oddly enough. If it hasn't been mentioned before, it's because the topic hardly ever comes up in conversation: it's not really how you introduce yourself to another person, nor was it something I'd ever felt the need to share. Little of my life I felt I needed to share with anyone, so most of the perks and flaws (mostly flaws) of my character were unknown. I think the most people know about me is my favorite color, and my date of birth.

It's green, despite my attire, and the dreaded date falls on the thirteenth of October, in case there were any questions.

Despite being loud and, if you were feeling impolite, obnoxious and overbearing, there was much to Yuffie that remained a mystery to me. Sure, she forced her opinion upon the group until we felt our ears would bleed, but there wasn't much about her past or her personal preferences – aside from her massive affinity for materia - that I knew about.

Or, if she ever had mentioned something, I had ignored her.

It was cruel of me, I understood, but even a saint's patience may wear thin.

I'm no saint, let it be clear.

It was odd walking through the farmer's market at such an early and odd hour of the day. Workers were out, setting trays and tables with wares to sell throughout the day, but customers this early were few and far between.

Perhaps the lack of people was why I was more the morning person. I know plenty of people who'd sooner stay up all hours of the night rather than wake a few hours early to enjoy a sunrise, but to each his own.

I got a few looks from those manning the stalls, but no one said anything.

No one was going to, either.

Who'd want to approach a man with a metallic hand and three-barrel pistol? Not many in this town, such is for certain.

Despite the eyes that followed me, I took my time and picked my way through the mealy bits of fruit and found things I figured Yuffie might like. Whatever she didn't consume I would, so it wasn't as though anything I purchased would go to waste. I filled a burlap sack halfway with both familiar and exotic fruits before I was satisfied.

I purchased some veggies as well, but nothing too odd- I wasn't sure how picky an eater Yuffie might be, and I didn't want to get stuck eating something bizarre and unappetizing because I hadn't known what I'd bought.

The butcher also had his store open, which suited me just fine. I requested various meats, paid the man, and was sent out of the store with a nod from the butcher in thanks for the money I'd spent.

I returned to the house and put away the things I'd bought, resolving myself to try and clean the fridge soon. It wasn't dirty, really - the shelves had been bare for years – but the idea that it hadn't been touched in equally as long brought out the need to clean.

Yuffie's PHS, still sitting on the counter from the night before, buzzed merrily across the counter. I didn't want to talk to Cloud again, but not answering the damned thing would make him fret – or panic, if I knew him.

"Yuffie's phone, Vincent speaking."

"Hey, Vincent." Tifa's sweet but deep voice resonated through the receiver.

Relief washed over me; thank Odin it wasn't Cloud.

"Hello, Tifa. Yuffie is still sleeping."

I heard a chuckle from the other side. "I know. That's why I called. I was hoping to talk to you for a minute."

The relief was short lived. I was already being analyzed by Cloud; I didn't need Tifa ganging up on me as well.

"Yes?"

There was a pause. Then, Tifa cleared her throat.

"You try anything stupid like that again, and I'll break your legs."

I couldn't help the fond smile that crept across my face.

"I understand you – a little better than Cloud, at least – and I don't blame you. But I'm not going to sit here and tell you what you want is bad. I just don't want you committing suicide on my time, got it? I have better things to do than attend your funeral, Valentine."

Her words were stern, but I could hear the kindness hidden behind them.

"Yes, Tifa."

"Promise me something?"

I sighed. "I don't keep promises very well."

"Just don't do anything stupid, alright?"

"No promises."

"Keep Yuffie out of trouble."

"That's harder than what you asked me before."

"...Vincent."

"I'll do my best, Tifa. I owe you that much."

"Then I guess it's all I can hope for. Take care, and tell Yuffie I said hello."

"Goodbye."

I hung up the phone and placed it back on the counter.

"Who were you talking to?"

Damn her sneakiness. I'd grown too accustomed to her presence, too accustomed to having her and the others so close around me, that I'd forgotten how to reach out and sense them. She was familiar; she was what my senses considered normal, after traveling with her so long.

I brushed the slight look of surprise off my face before I turned to look at her. "It was Tifa. She says hello."

"Anything else?"

"Yes; that she'll break my legs if I try anything stupid."

Yuffie yawned. "She always comes up with the best ideas."

I let it slide, given how sleepy she looked.

"Care for some breakfast?"