Falling Stars

By:

Mystwalker

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII.

A/N:

Licoriceallsorts, it was actually a little bit of both. It was meant to be a placeholder name while I was writing Another Side, but I decided to go with it since the names are different enough in pronunciation (Shi-on versus "Sung"), meaning (Shion = aster flower), and origin (Japanese vs. Chinese) that I didn't think I was using something that sounded too much like Tseng. I was thinking of giving him a Japanese name anyway and while I was writing it just stuck. I considered changing it later on, but by then, Shion had made his way into several chapters of Another Side, so I let it go.

XxXxX

Chapter Two: Promises of Spring

It was still early enough in the day that the streets of Junon were crowded, although they seemed to be on their way towards clearing out. Shion watched as people streamed along either side of him and Veld, giving the two Turks as generous a berth as they could give them in the crowd. His hand itched for his sword, but he kept it firmly at his side, keeping his eyes trained in front of him. The young swordsman didn't much care for the crowd. His hometown of Gongaga wasn't known for its multitude of people, and although he had spent three months in Midgar, they'd mostly been in the prisons. He didn't have much experience with the sort of urban sprawl that seemed to be common in the larger cities of Gaia, one or two trips to Cosmo Canyon or the Gold Saucer not withstanding.

In a crowd like this, and dressed as they were in the uniform of the Turks, anyone could be an enemy. But the uniform had its advantages too. It set them apart, but it also gave people a reason to stay away.

They were heading into the marketplace to conduct some preliminary investigations about their target, a low profile weapons merchant by the name of Aaron Ross. From the report compiled by the Turks' secondary division, Ross had been extracting information from a source within the company over the course of several supposed business meetings. The source's identity was revealed in the report as well—he worked in the Junon branch of Shinra Incorporated, but he was currently being monitored by other members of the General Affairs Department. The Turks' information had tied Ross to a break-in a few weeks ago at one of the Science Department's research outposts, where he was apparently implicated in the theft of an experimental type of Materia. For obvious reasons, the company didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands.

Unfortunately, if they were too overt about its retrieval, there was a good chance that Ross would take the Materia and flee the city, or they would be forced to kill him without finding out who he was working for. There was also a possibility that if the public found out about the threat, it would raise a panic. That was where he and Veld came in. They were to find Ross's contacts in the city and locate him if he was still in the area, recover the Materia, and quietly dispose of Ross with no one the wiser. It was all very cloak and dagger, but he wouldn't say that his hands had been entirely clean before.

He frowned, watching as Veld turned and began walking towards one of the shops that lined Junon's main thoroughfare. Shion followed close behind him, keeping a close eye on the crowd that parted slightly to let them pass. Veld had been very clear before they left the building. His job for today's round of questioning was to keep watch, pay attention, and not say a word.

The shop appeared to be a small hardware store, with various collections of tools, paint, and other mechanical odds and ends lining the shelves. The whole place felt more than a little cramped, with low ceilings and cluttered shelves that lined the walls leading up to the counter. A small, mousy looking man stood behind the counter, wiping down the glass. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a thinning head of hair that was quickly going gray, and small, beady dark eyes. The shop smelled vaguely of dust and paint thinner, and Shion glanced at the thick coating of dust on one of the shelves, wondering when the last time they had been cleaned was. A small television was on in the background, displaying the latest news report from the front. He glanced at it, eyeing the by now familiar image of a young teenager, with silver hair falling slightly past his ears and glowing green eyes.

Apparently, Shinra's new golden boy had earned himself a field promotion to First Class after his much publicized war victory a few weeks ago. Shion turned his head away from the TV as Veld approached the counter. Good for him.

The man at the counter looked up as Veld approached. He seemed surprised to see him there, but not in the same startled kind of way that Shion had seen others react to the Turks. His eyes widened behind his glasses, and he put down his rag.

"Look, I already told your buddies, I don't know anything about that trade from Corel," he said. "Nothin' you say is gonna make me remember anything."

"I'm not here about that, Ed," said Veld.

The merchant blinked at Veld. "You're not?" he asked.

"No." Veld pulled a photograph out of his inside pocket, placing it on the countertop. Shion discreetly shifted position to get a better look. It was an image pulled from the file, one that showed a man in the uniform of one of the Shinra employees speaking with a tall dark-haired man, one with his back to the camera. "Does the name Aaron Ross sound familiar to you?"

Ed scowled, picking up the photo and squinting at it critically. "Ross?" he asked. "Yeah. Weapons guy. Comes in once in a while, sells his stuff to the shop downtown. He's legit as far as I know. Nothing illegal, only sells stuff for travelers." He set the picture down, looking up at Veld. "He's got something going on on the side?"

"That's classified," said Veld, almost casually. "When was the last time Ross was in town?"

"A few months ago, last I heard," said Ed. "You think he's in town now?"

"That picture was taken last week," said Veld, inclining his head towards it. Ed stared at it for a moment longer, studying it. After a while, he pushed away from the counter, shaking his head.

"Well..." he said. "He didn't come here for a sale."

"How do you know that?"

"I just saw ol'Matt from the weapons shop the other day," replied Ed. "Came in here for some paint. He was complaining about the war making it hard for him to get anything stocked. Said he hadn't gotten anything new in weeks."

"Does he have any ties in this town? Any family, any friends or people he's been seen around?" asked Veld.

"Don't know much about his personal life," replied Ed. "He's been known to hang around Benton's—that bar down on 12th. Might ask around there."

Veld nodded. "We'll look into it."

"Anything else you want to know?" asked Ed, giving the counter one last cleaning before chucking the rag underneath the table. "I'm about to close up shop." He gave the clock behind the Turk leader a meaningful look, before glancing back at Veld.

"...One last thing," said Veld. "Where does he get his supplies?"

"Has 'em shipped in from Costa," said Ed, shrugging. "At least that's what he claims. Like I said, his business seems straight. But..."

"But?" prompted Veld.

"Heard tell that he's spent some time down at the Canyon," said Ed, giving Veld a knowing look. "Now, if I were workin' for Shinra, which I'm not, and this guy was fixing to give me some real trouble, I might find that an itty bitty bit suspicious, if you know what I mean."

Veld nodded in response. His expression didn't change, but Shion could tell that he was slightly intrigued. He leaned forward, sliding the picture off the desk and slipping it back into his pocket. "We'll look into it," he said. "Thanks for the information."

"My payment?" asked Ed.

"It'll be wired to you the usual way." He turned, nodding at Shion. Shion frowned, tearing his eyes away from the counter and following Veld out the door. Behind them, the television continued to display the news, this time showing a press conference held by President Shinra. Shion ignored it, letting the door close behind him and following Veld out into the streets.

"He's a small-time fence," said Veld, once they were far enough away. "Doesn't deal in anything big enough to cause the company trouble. We keep him around because he can get us information about the underground."

Shion cast the shop a last look. It didn't really surprise him. He had always known that the Turks had to have connections. There were too few of them for the amount of ground they covered and the amount of information they knew. "What was that about Cosmo Canyon?"

Veld frowned, glancing around him to see if anyone was watching. Shion looked as well. The streets were even clearer now than they had been when they first arrived, and the sun was starting to go down. It was getting a little chillier, with the area not having completely shaken off winter yet. A cold wind blew through the streets, and Shion was almost thankful for the dark suit. No one was looking at them specifically, but they were keeping their distance.

"Anti-Shinra sentiment..." replied Veld. "We're keeping tabs on it. So far, it hasn't materialized into anything concrete." He shot Shion a knowing look. "Why? Been there?"

"A couple of times. It's not too far from Gongaga."

"Any special reason?" asked Veld.

"I like the stars."

"Hmm." Veld turned away, looking straight ahead of him. "Shion is a Wutaian name."

"My mother was Wutaian," said Shion. "She liked asters. She said they symbolized remembrance."

"Of her homeland?" asked Veld idly.

Shion shot Veld a dark look. "Am I being interrogated?" he asked.

"No," said Veld. "Is it wrong of me to want to know more about my employees?"

"You can read my file," said Shion coolly. "Or my arrest report." Shion looked away as they walked in silence. He scowled, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword again. "It's true. I have no interest in the war effort. In fact, I feel strongly against it. But you didn't hire me to fight in the war, so it shouldn't matter what I think of it. Unless you're thinking of sending me back to prison."

Veld shrugged. "You're certainly entitled to your opinions," he said, his expression growing serious. "But before anything else, you're a Turk. And above anything else, the Turks always fulfill their mission."

Shion scowled in reply, looking back at the streets. "I'll do my job," he said. "...What's our next move?"

"We'll scope out that bar Ed mentioned," said Veld. "Or rather..." He shot Shion a slightly amused look. "You will."

Shion blinked in surprise. "Me?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, I'm too recognizable," said Veld. "I'm the head of the department after all. But they shouldn't know you. You'll go in tonight, in plain clothes, and see what you can find out about Ross." Veld glanced back at him. "...You do know how to blend in at a bar, don't you."

He snorted bitterly, thinking back to his days before this. "I'll manage," he said dryly, as the two of them rounded the corner that led back to the Shinra Building.

A small figure bumped into his side, a hand brushing the front of his suit. The touch, compared to everyone else's avoidance of them, startled him. Shion looked down, just in time to see a head of straggly reddish-brown hair under his arm. It belonged to a child. She couldn't have been any older than six or seven, and she was so thin he almost didn't notice her weight.

"Sorry," she mumbled, keeping her head bowed as she pushed past him, running down the street. Shion blinked, pausing in his walk and looking back at her. She was dressed in a threadbare coat a few sizes too big for her, with patches sewn clumsily into the elbows, and a pair of cracked shoes. He watched as she vanished into the crowd, her small form disappearing into the stream.

Veld paused as well, looking back at Shion. "...Another street urchin," he said.

"Mm," said Shion, looking back at Veld.

"Check your pockets," cautioned Veld, turning away from the sight as well. Shion frowned, slipping his hand into the pocket nearest the area where the girl had touched. He groped around with his fingers, his frown deepening.

Veld raised an eyebrow. "Something missing?"

"Just pocket change," said Shion, pulling his hand out of his pocket. "My wallet's still here."

"I see," said Veld. He glanced back at the crowd, then turned away, walking back down the street. "Well leave it," he said. "She probably needs it more."

Shion nodded once, slowly tearing his eyes away from the crowd as well. He slipped his hands into his pockets, following Veld down the street.

XxXxX

The children's home was a rundown building on the corner of 5th and D St. It was surrounded by a high fence, a small dirt courtyard in front of it with a rundown playground. The building was always overrun with children, running around the courtyard, calling each other names, and occasionally managing to get themselves dirtier and grimier than they already were. She kept her head down as she passed through the gate, making sure the small bundle of warmth pulled close to her chest was well hidden.

One of the boys noticed her as she walked in. She kept her eyes to the ground, slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat. One of her fingers found a hole that hadn't been sewed up, and she slipped her finger through it, gripping her coat from the inside.

"Hey! You ran off!" he shouted gleefully. "When Maura finds out, she's gonna be mad!"

She said nothing, continuing to walk. She knew his type. If she didn't say anything, he'd eventually go away.

"What's the matter?" asked the boy, running up to her. "Cat got your tongue?"

Still, she said nothing, not even looking at him. He scowled at her, then reached out and shoved her. She was prepared for that—she knew how to make a good show. The girl obligingly took a step back, stumbling and falling onto her rear. The boy stood over her. He was nine, and bigger than she was, and he liked to bully people. That was just how he was—he'd been that way from the moment he turned up on this doorstep.

He stuck his tongue out at her, turning and running back to where his friends were watching.

The girl waited until she was gone, then slowly picked herself up onto her feet. She didn't say a word or make a sound, her eyes shadowed by her hair as she turned and walked away, walking around to the side of the building.

The roof was her secret place. It was slanted, not flat, and she was the only one who knew the correct combination of handholds and footholds along the side of the building to reach it, the only one who knew the secret place where a child could sit and not be seen. She was the smallest of the children her age, and she knew how to use it, how to hide. She scrambled up the side of the roof now, then settled into her hiding place, wrapping her coat tightly around herself and curling up so that she was resting her hands on her knees.

It was cold, but she liked this place. It was quiet, and no one could reach her up here.

Slowly, she reached into her coat, pulling out the loaf of bread she had bought with the gil she'd taken. It was still warm. She unwrapped it with her hands, taking a bite out of it.

It was still cold, but it brought with it the promise of spring.

She watched as a bird flew on the wind, alighting onto the rooftop. It was a small sparrow, about as big as her hand, and it eyed her suspiciously, keeping its distance. She took another bite of bread, idly tossing a small chunk at it. The bird looked at her, before pecking loosely at the crumbs.

Below her, she could hear the children talking, shouting, and playing, shoving each other and yelling. Constantly. Always yelling. It was never quiet around here. She caught snatches of conversation rising up from below, some of it about her.

"...she's gonna get it again..."

"...I heard they're still fighting in the war..."

"...be a SOLDIER one of these days..."

"...Did you see those guys in the suits?"

The girl frowned at that last one, clutching her loaf of bread tighter. She took a bite into it, staring at the bird. It looked up at her for a moment, cocking its head. She wondered if it understood.

The wind blew again, and the bird hopped up, flying away.

She watched it intently, her eyes focused on every movement of its wings.