Reason to Live

By mihoyonagi

Chapter 8

It was three days I spent sitting in the basement, wondering what I was doing with myself, before I actually stood up and stretched my legs. I'd been in deep mental turmoil before, but this seemed different; this was self-awareness.

Before, it had been about what I'd done to other people. It had been about what I'd overlooked and what had been, ultimately, the downfall of everything I held close to me. Penance? The more I thought of it the more silly it seemed. All that I had cared about was gone or torn apart, and I thought I could redeem my blatant ignorance by holing myself up in a coffin for the rest of my miserable existence.

The more I contemplated my reasons for initially locking myself up in a box for three decades, the more I realized how selfish I had been. Lucretia took the easy way out; the way I wished, for so long, I could follow. She looked at her sins, realized that she couldn't cope, and decided the world was better off without her. What would have happened had she fought for her son?

I found myself pacing the empty, dark hallway of the library, tucked into the deepest corner of the basement. The elegant chandelier that hung from the ceiling was coated thoroughly in webs left from spiders long dead. I sat on the edge of the oak desk that stood lonely in the middle of the circular outcropping. Research papers, books, and letters lay scattered atop the desk, and nearly everywhere around, as if some madman had ransacked the place, desperate to find something.

Looking to the shelves, I saw something that caught my eye. A tattered book, and a pile of letters.

Yuffie's curiosity was contagious, it seemed. My arm went out and I pulled the book and the pile of letters from the shelf.

It was like a slap to the face.

It was Hojo's research notes about the ancients, about Aerith and her mother, and a pile of letters between my lost friend and someone she held dear named Zax.

Ah, here was something I hadn't known before.

Professor Gast was Aerith's father.

I put the book down, unable to read any more. It made me sick, knowing that Aerith had once been touched by the same tainted hands that had ruined me. Gast had been a good man, but Hojo…

With heavy feet, and a heavier heart, I trudged upstairs and simply walked through the house that had been my tomb for the past thirty years.

It was time to get out a little.

I flipped open my phone and dialed Tifa's number. Her cheery greeting insured me that she and Yuffie were having a good time.

"Hello, Tifa."

"Hey, Vincent. Something up?"

"I wanted to tell you that Yuffie is welcome back whenever you feel you can bring her."

I practically heard her smile. "I think you should talk to her about this."

"Wait, Tifa, I-"

"Hey, Vincent!"

"Hello, Yuffie."

"I heard what you said to Tifa, but how do you know I want to come back?"

My mood dropped a bit. I hadn't thought about Yuffie figuratively giving me the finger after I'd lost my temper like, as she would put it, a douchebag.

Oh, Shiva above and Ifrit below, I was picking up her slang as well as her foul mouth.

"If you don't want to come back, Yuffie, I can pack your things and have them ready for you to come get them. I can-"

"I mean, Tifa painted my toenails last night. How many times, in the past few months that I've been living in that creepy-as-all-hell house with you, have you painted my toes?"

Momentary confusion stuck me in the back of the head before I realized what Yuffie and her smart mouth were doing.

She was goading me.

"I'm afraid I don't have any nail polish, Yuffie, so it never occurred to me to paint your toes."

"You could get me a few colors to make up for the lack of what you've got in stock now."

"Very well. When you get back we can go buy you some nail polish."

There was a silence.

Then a snort of laughter.

"Vincent, you are just too easy; you know that? Like I'd want any of the girly crap."

I ignored the urge to sigh heavily. "Put Tifa back on the line, Yuffie." The smile that Tifa wore was still present, obvious in the way she spoke.

"Hello?"

"That wasn't very nice."

"I know. But you were kind of a jerk the other day, so I figured you deserved it."

"Ah. Valid point. Cloud told you what happened, then?"

"Yes, and Yuffie is sorry, despite the fact that she'll never admit to it out loud ever again."

I heard a loud, indignant "hey!" from somewhere on the other line.

"Bring her back when it's convenient for you. I'm not going anywhere."

Yuffie was returned the next day. With a hug to both Cloud and Tifa, she hopped off the bridge of the Highwind. We stood together, alone, in the large field next to the river outside of town. As soon as the ship was out of view, Yuffie tumbled over and threw up in the tall grass.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, pleased that I had skipped breakfast.

"I hate ships. I hate them so much. Hate, hate, hate-"

Before she could curse the flying machine further, I heard a horrible gurgling sound as Yuffie's stomach took further revenge for the ride on the Highwind.

"Are you going to be okay?" It was early afternoon and while nothing was planned for the rest of the day, I didn't feel like spending my time standing next to Yuffie as she vomited.

"Yeah, yeah: I'll be fine. I can almost-"

Another heave. Wonderful.

Several minutes pressed by, and after I could no longer hear anything I decided it would be safe to turn around.

"It's a good thing I don't have long hair, like Tifa." It was a strange remark for her to make. She looked up at me. "You know; so I don't get throw up in my hair."

Ah, so her comment did have validity given the circumstance, however strange. "Will you be able to walk alright?"

Yuffie stood, her knees knocking together as she tried to keep her balance. "Stupid ship. I hate flying."

We walked toward town, beginning at a snail's slow trudge that eventually developed into a somewhat faster gimp. Once we had to stop; Yuffie thought she had more coming up, but it turned out to be dry-heaves. Not that it was any better than her throwing up in the first place; the sounds she made were still disgusting.

She couldn't help it. I knew it, but it was still gross.

When we arrived back home she took her time with the stairs, and I followed her to her room in order to make sure that she wasn't going to heave in the hallway.

She flopped down, unceremoniously, atop her bed covers. "Leviathan be damned; I've never been air-sick like this before."

I was feeling generous. "Is there something you need?"

She rolled over, punching a pillow and making a groaning sound. "Crackers."

We didn't have any left; I'd have to go to the store. "I'll go get you some. Try to lay still. If you feel the need to throw up again can you make it to the bathroom or should I get you a bowl?"

"No, I can make it if I have to. Barf buckets are undignified for a ninja."

So is motion-sickness, but I wasn't going to say that aloud.

The town was somewhat empty, given the time of day. The sun was high, summer nearing an end, and the heat was nearly unbearable. Most of the residents hid inside to keep cool, and I couldn't blame them. Perhaps the heat was why Yuffie's stomach had yet to relent.

At the small store near the ends of town, the man behind the counter was beginning to grow accustom to my face. I wasn't sure how I felt about this, but at least he didn't think I was a vampire, like most of the younger generation of the town.

I mean, I was going out in daylight, wasn't I? One would tend to think that would debunk the myths of my being a vampire.

This town liked to gossip too much.

The shopkeep nodded to me when I walked past the counter. Bee-lining straight for the crackers, I snagged the box on top and turned around.

And promptly came face to face with a small case of nail polish.

Oh, what an inside joke.

I picked up a bottle of light pink, a color I knew Yuffie wouldn't find too flashy, and set it on the counter next to the box of crackers.

Looking up at me with a slight smirk on his face, the shopkeep rang up my purchase. "Looks like you've got a wild night planned."

I wasn't sure if I was meant to laugh or not. "My comrade is sick, hence the crackers, and I thought she'd appreciate the nail polish."

There was a pause.

"You ain't a vampire, are ya?"

All respect for the shopkeep evaporating with that one sentence. "Everyone is still pushing that rumor around, aren't they? No, I'm not a vampire, and the young lady staying with me is a friend, not my captive."

"Most of the townsfolk saw those two strangers go up to the mansion the other day. The young one was crying when she left."

What was he insinuating? These people needed more excitement in their lives.

"They are my friends, as well. There was a bit of an argument, and I needed some time alone."

A disbelieving glare was shot my way from over the counter. "That little one; she your lover?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes theatrically. "No, she's not. Now, is there some reason for all of the questions, or can I pay you and leave?"

He laughed, which was unexpected, and took the Gil from my outstretched hand without another word.

Oh, Shiva; I could only imagine what he was going to tell the other people in town.

Well, at least he'd asked me out right instead of treating his assumptions as fact, like everyone else in the town seemed to like doing. Vampire? I knew children that had a better imagination than that. Hell, I knew a talking cat that was more creative.

I tossed the bag onto Yuffie's bed when I returned home. I was halfway down the hall before I heard her groan.

"Valentine! I hate pink!"

I smirked, unable to hide my amusement.