I had never imagined I would see them again, still wearing the clothes they'd had on when they departed to complete their Focus. They weren't alone; accompanying them were four others, all strange looking. If I hadn't witnessed the slow destruction of the human population of Gran Pulse - hadn't known that there was no civilization left - I wouldn't have known which clan they might belong to. One of the men had skin darker than anything I'd ever seen before, and the child with them had hair the colour of the moon.
I wanted to run to Vanille and hug her. Wanted to ask her how she'd escaped her crystal prison; where she'd been moved to; who these strangers were; what she was doing back in Oerba. But I couldn't. Five hundred years of shambling about as some misshapen Cie'th had robbed me of proper intelligence and the ability to act human, and all I could do was lumber toward them, wailing through my decayed vocal cords. There was no flash of recognition in her eyes; I hadn't expected there to be. All six of them rallied against me, an unlikely group that somehow fit this dead world.
Peace found me at the same time as Fang's spear. It hit me full through what used to be my chest, and my life ended. I fancied that I turned human again before I hit the floor and that the people I knew held a moment of silence for me before continuing their journey to do - what exactly, I don't know.
Just seeing them was good enough.