A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Apologies if the last few chapters felt rushed – I haven't had the time to edit and beef things up that I'd like, what with finals quickly approaching and my applications to grad school due. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
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Yuffie was late for a training session with Chekhov. She and Cid had made pretty good time, but when they touched down she had about fifteen minutes to make her way to the palace. She decided to skip changing her clothes, even as stiff with travel as they felt, and just get to her session before her mentor decided to string her up as punishment for her many transgressions.
"You are late!" Chekhov screeched when she burst through the door into their training room. Knowing she looked a mess, Yuffie tried to suppress her gasps for breath after her mad dash to the dojo. No need to infuriate Chekhov further.
"I'm sorry!" she squawked as she received several stinging blows to the side of her head. "Cut it out, will you? I got here as fast as I could!"
"Got here as fast as you could?" Chekhov narrowed her eyes at Yuffie, her right hand cocked for further punishment. "If you had any sense, you wouldn't have left in the first place."
"I just took a short break, that's all," she said, trying not to feel selfish and failing. Now that she'd had twenty-four hours to cool off and survey the situation, she knew she'd been wrong to leave. Anything could have happened while she was gone.
Chekhov's threatening hands lowered and slipped behind her back as she studied Yuffie's face. Though Yuffie was not certain what Chekhov saw, some of the anger deserted her. Instead of more admonishments, she said simply, "You need more rest, your highness."
"I'm too busy being awesome to rest," Yuffie said, hoping to deflect Chekhov's concern. She knew better than anyone that she needed rest, but life just wasn't yielding lately.
Her plan backfired. Chekhov's nostrils flared, and she loomed over her young Empress. "Would you call beating up your husband awesome, my lady?"
Yuffie straightened, lifting her chin. She owed Tseng an apology, but she didn't owe Chekhov one. She didn't have to be sorry to someone who didn't even know the whole story. "No. How is he?"
"Besides a knock on the head, fine. As the wounds were minor, a potion sped the healing." Chekhov stared hard into her eyes, incredibly close. "What happened, Yuffie?" She so rarely used Yuffie's given name that the younger woman knew how seriously she felt about the situation.
"What would you say if I told you I don't want to talk about it and I'd rather get on with my training?" Yuffie asked after a beat.
On the one hand, she knew this move was somewhat unfair. Chekhov would defer to her. Yuffie was her Empress. Knowing her from birth to present did not change that for someone as strict as Chekhov. On the other, Yuffie internally quailed at the thought of explaining the file to Chekhov, for the same reasons she'd backed out of explaining to Tifa. She was embarrassed Tseng had the file in the first place, and she would rather not cause any more outrage than she had already expressed herself.
Chekhov said tightly, "Then meditate!" She muttered something that sounded like "too old for Kisaragis" and settled in her usual place near the far left corner of the room.
Yuffie assumed the lotus position with no small amount of relief that Chekhov would let it lie. She found, though, that after fifteen minutes of meditation, she was having no success in accessing Leviathan. She fell back onto the mats with an exaggerated scream of frustration.
She jabbed an accusing finger at her middle. "Don't think I don't know you're in there laughing at me, you stupid lizard!"
"You're a fool," Chekhov said. She had procured a paperback and looked oddly comfortable despite sitting on the floor.
"You're reading while I'm slaving away over here?"
"I knew you would be useless tonight, so I thought I'd at least entertain myself." She lifted one silver eyebrow and turned a page.
Yuffie put her head in her hands in an attempt not to destroy everything within a five foot radius. "You knew?"
"I can see plainly that you have not taken my advice and resolved your issues with your husband. I'm not sure what other advice to offer you."
"I tried! He's a jackass!"
"I saw your idea of 'trying' when I treated his head wounds the other night."
Right now, the ceiling was more interesting to Yuffie than it had ever been before. She slung one arm over her forehead and resigned herself to never mastering Leviathan. She'd just let him build inside her until some citizen said the wrong thing, then she'd blow them up with lizard laser eyes.
"Let's just say he wasn't completely innocent."
"When you were seven," Chekhov said, and Yuffie frowned at her shift in subject, "you blasted Shake ten feet across the dojo. I told your father you'd be the most powerful ruler Wutai's seen in a century."
Yuffie's eyes widened, and she sat straight up. Chekhov was still thumbing through her paperback looking bored. "What?"
"You heard me."
"As good as great-great-great Aunt Wu?"
"Better." Chekhov hid a yawn with her hand. "Sometimes, I fear you will never reach that potential."
Yuffie sighed, slumping. "I don't know if I ever will either."
"We will have to see. Now… meditate. I will not let you leave before the hour is up."
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Two days later at the same time, Yuffie found herself alone in front of her mirror. Tonight she would attend the Kisaragi Charity Auction and Banquet.
Yuffie put the final touches on her makeup and exited her bedroom. There was no sign of Tseng. For the most part, they had avoided each other for the past forty-eight hours. Yuffie felt she owed him an apology for hurting him, but she was still angry. She didn't want him to feel he was in the right if she said she was sorry. Nevertheless, she hoped he wouldn't be late. Head injuries and explosive arguments or no, he needed to continue helping her uphold the image of a united marital front. Since they hadn't spoken any conversational words to each other in two days, she didn't feel comfortable asking about his plans regarding the auction.
She assumed he had arranged his own transportation, as she would be escorted by a guard in her own car. There was no sense in them traveling in the same car for a high profile event, thus making themselves an even greater target. Tseng had suggested it to Gorki himself, or so Yuffie had heard, and she couldn't help but wonder if part of his reasoning were to be further away from her.
Performing a last check over herself in the mirror, Yuffie came to the realization that, for the first time in her life, she felt sexy.
There was no denying that she was cute, pretty even, some days. She had spent most of her life up to this point being bouncy and cheerful and confident (or annoying, depending on who you asked). People found her nature either infuriating or endearing, and she knew she had a rockin' body, after years of training and kicking butt. But never before today had she truly felt, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, sexy.
Her hair, styled carefully, had been flattened on her skull in some places and pushed and teased for body in others. At the back of her head, it flared out in an attractive, shapely curve. Her stylist had gelled the hair into twisting, snakelike locks flat against her neck and her cheekbones. The black eyeliner and smoky gray shadow coordinated with her dark red lipstick to lend her a svelte, exotic look.
Beyond her hair, her makeup, and the tasteful pair of dangling silver earrings, however, the dress made the look. It appeared to have been glued to her body, either by industrial adhesive or magic, it was so sleek. The back reached all the way down to just above the curve of her bum, baring her naturally tan skin and toned back muscles for scrutiny. The bell-like sleeves dragged long toward her legs, but the cut stopped short at her elbows, exposing her arms. The neck scooped invitingly, a helpful push-up bra giving her some meager cleavage for the questing eye. A long slit up the right leg revealed even more of her smooth skin, just a flash of her thigh left unshielded by the dress and her strappy heels.
Yuffie fingered the burgundy fabric with its embroidered black blossoms and vines and decided that her designer had made the right choice, despite Yuffie's initial misgivings at just how small the dress looked on the mannequin. It was an interesting balance of Eastern and Western styles, very modern but tipping a hat to the traditional ways. She had never felt so exposed and yet, in total control.
Her feelings of control might be due, in part, to the tiny kunai that had been stashed around her person in various places. She preferred throwing stars but had chosen kunai for their sleeker shape—the better to hide them. On her left wrist, a bracelet with sharp, tiny spikes glinted in the low light.
Yuffie adjusted her jingling silver bangles and set out to find her ride.
Daiyu had offered the services of the Jade Dragon for the event, and the trip there was a nerve-wracking one. She could only pick at her outfit, trying not to muss her makeup. Her hair, though, she thought could probably withstand the barrage of ten WEAPONs and still hold its own. There was simply that much gel in it. She ghosted her hand lightly over the top of it, marveling at its hard texture but soft look. Her stylist had really done a number on her frustrating mop. If only Yuffie could spare the two hours required for the 'do more often.
The ride seemed to drag on interminably, lights in businesses flashing past and blurring into one long glow as she waited for arrival. Her palms felt greasy, but she dared not wipe them on her careful ensemble.
Finally, they arrived. Her chauffer opened the door, and she stepped one stiletto'd foot onto the red carpet, trying not to retreat at the hail of camera flashes.
"Your highness, why do you feel it is appropriate to sell artifacts of the state to foreigners?"
"My lady, rumor has it that there's a bun in the oven! Could you confirm or deny these allegations?"
"Has AVALANCHE any opinion on the auction and the guest list, Lady Kisaragi?"
She ignored them all, shoulders thrown back, confident in the camera lenses. Underneath her gall, a deep relief grasped her that she had assigned Shake to the press. He would make sure to limit the amount of reporters as well as screen the ones given access to the actual event. Shake's sharp manner and bullheadedness were perfect tools for handling pesky journalists.
A luxurious red carpet led directly into the Jade Dragon's open front door. She had never been intimidated by the dragon's mouth archway before, but now the fangs seemed somewhat ominous, and the green eyes twinkled in each flash of a camera. The face seemed almost alive, and she shook off a shiver as she traveled through the arch.
A ripple of silence began at the doors as she entered and people turned to see, then spread in a wave throughout the room as she stepped into the light. All heads turned toward her, quiet except for some urgent whispers. In response, Yuffie lifted her head high, exposing her long, graceful neck, and spread her hands in a gesture of welcome.
"Good evening, honored guests," she said, voice ringing powerfully over their heads. A darting glance pinpointed Cloud's infamous hair, and she knew Tifa would not be far behind. "I welcome you to the royal family's very first Charity Auction and Banquet. Thank you all for attending. I'd like to especially thank my dear friend Daiyu of Jade Dragon fame for providing the venue and the staff, as well as the honorable and ancient house of Saitou for their catering services."
She paused. Truth be told, that was as far as she had memorized. A bead of warm sweat tickled the back of her neck, and she made a split-second decision. There really was no use in trying to hide her true self for any significant duration of time, so she decided to just get on with it.
"Well, what are we all standing around for? Let's get this show on the road," she finished with a bright smile. Chuckles issued from the crowd as neighbors nudged each other and began moving to the upper floor, where the auction would be held. The lower floors housed the long tables filled with silver serving trays. She could not see what luxurious foods they hid, but Yuffie had no doubt that a combination of Saitou's and Daiyu's staff would yield impressive results.
Speaking of queens, she decided she must look the part of one, if the stares were any indication. She tried to ignore them as she moved toward the auction area. A familiar voice stopped her short, however.
"Hey, Princess—I mean, Empress Kisaragi. You're lookin' like hot stuff tonight."
Yuffie turned, and to Reno's visible surprise, graced him with a shallow bow. "Reno," she said, unable to keep her genuine pleasure and amusement from her tone, "and Elena," she added, bowing to the blonde woman who trailed behind her redheaded partner.
She heard shutters clicking and knew the press would have a field day with her deference for the Shinra dogs. She didn't care. The world needed a reality check; she had respect for the ex-Turks. They worked for the WRO, and she would not tolerate any more bad words for them. They had done good work for a number of recent years, the world was not black and white, and she was tired of animosity, tired of games and grudges. She didn't know how long it might take for the world to move past its disastrous history with Shinra, but they were here to stay in one form or another. Yuffie decided then and there she would be the first to take steps toward peace.
"Where's Rude?" she said into the somewhat awkward silence. Elena and Reno didn't seem to know how to respond to her respect. She supposed they didn't experience it very often.
Reno smirked, recovering quickly. "He drew the short straw." He shrugged with one lazy shoulder. "Oh, well. The big guy was never really much for parties anyway."
Yuffie knew better than to question them. At most, they would be cryptic, but she also knew enough to guess Rude was probably perched on some high place with a slick new gun and a high-powered scope. Yuffie felt a little better at the thought and entertained, not for the first time, ideas of training her guards in some of the Turk methods.
"Yuffie!" Tifa's voice called from somewhere behind her.
She turned to the Turks. "Sorry, gotta go." She bowed shortly once more and turned to receive a crushing hug from her best friend. When she pulled back, Yuffie said, "You look like a dream I had once where I died and went to the lifestream." She tugged one of Tifa's spiral curls.
Tifa laughed. "Right back at ya, partner." She softened, studying Yuffie from top to bottom. "Seriously, you look amazing. Who did your hair? I'm jealous I didn't get to help this time, but they did a way better job than me."
Cloud came up behind her and let out a low wolf-whistle. "I hope you're hiding a stick somewhere in that getup, 'cause you're gonna have to beat the men back with it."
"Don't be silly, Cloud," Tifa said, eyeing Yuffie with a sly smile on her lips. "There's nowhere for her to put it."
Yuffie flushed, her skin darkening just a bit. "And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that."
"Not at all, my gorgeous friend," Tifa replied, offering her arm. "Shall we go? I think they're waiting on you up there." She lowered her voice and leaned into Yuffie's ear. "Besides, girl, you have to impress that no-good husband of yours. He's going to need a few cold showers when he sees you."
Yuffie let Tifa lead her into the auction room and down the middle aisle, aware that all eyes were on her and her long-time friend. When they found their seats in the very front row, on the aisle, she caught sight of Reeve on the other side, and he conveyed his approval with a grin and a subtle thumbs-up. From beside him, Cid raised an eyebrow and Shera smiled softly. Nanaki blinked his one eye at her, his glowing tail waving back and forth like a reed on the breeze. Vincent tipped his head in her direction. To her surprise, she spotted Daiyu—with a date. It seemed the son of the house of Uryuu was attending the function with her, and the older woman let out a sly smile in response to Yuffie's eyebrow wiggle.
She took her seat, trying not to look at the occupant of the chair next to her. Her lowered eyes caught a glance of a sleeve, done in a navy blue she thought must suit his dark hair and eyes. She wondered if their tailors had coordinated—black flowers very similar to hers accented his cuffs. She made sure no part of her touched him and proceeded to ignore his presence.
Rufus sat directly behind her, and she felt rather than saw him lean forward, his breath brushing the back of her neck as he murmured to her. "You look positively delightful, your highness."
Damn Rufus. Yuffie was still angry at him, but he had a way of wheedling past her defenses and charming her anyway. She couldn't resist tossing a smug "I know" over her shoulder.
When she was seated, a thin, gawky man in an awkward bow-tie and collared shirt stood and approached the podium at the front of the audience. He was out of place amid the lush curtains and flowering, potted plants, his mussed, boyish hair suggesting he had crawled out of a pile of books mere minutes before ascending the podium.
"Hello, and welcome, everyone. Thank you for having us all here tonight, Empress and Emperor Kisaragi," he said into the small microphone, which he adjusted for better reception of his voice. He peered out at the crowd over his glasses, small eyes shrewd. "My name is Shinichiro Jin, and I am the head of the school board for the city. I'd like to thank you all for attending this event. One hundred percent of profits from this auction will be donated toward the building and funding of ten new primary and secondary schools in the area. I'm not one for speeches, so I will just say, a big thank you from the school board and the city's youth for all you are doing for our great country of Wutai today.
"After all, the future of our world lies in the hands of our children. If not for education, that future is lost. Without further ado, I introduce you to our auctioneer for the evening, Ms. Li Rei."
Li Rei was one of Daiyu's friends, and she had been recommended for this job by Daiyu herself. Yuffie smiled at her friend's choice as the auctioneer's smoky, enticing voice curled over the crowd, describing the first object for sale: a hand-carved jade statue of Leviathan from the Zan Dynasty.
The bidding went back and forth, becoming more and more heated, until a man she recognized from an esteemed (but new-money) clan won the last bid for 556,000 gil.
Tseng's tense presence next to her kept her from gaping at the first sale. He had said not a single word to her since she sat beside him, as he had said barely anything to her since their fight. She had little hopes of repairing their relationship at this point, so she maintained the precedent of stony silence he had set.
The auction itself went very well, considering Yuffie never saw any sniper dots trained on any of the guests, and no one threw any live snakes in her hair and told her to dance a jig. All in all, she thought it was pretty much a success. With the difficult part out of the way, people would surely wish to relax during the banquet.
When the final item had been sold, bringing the total to around 5.3 million gil, Yuffie felt rather pleased with the whole event. As Li Rei informed the crowd that the bidding itself was over and the dining and dancing would soon begin, Yuffie rose with the audience. Then, her stomach bottomed out as she remembered that she and Tseng would have to lead the first dance, a long-standing Wuteng custom.
She tried to repossess the feeling of confidence and success from a moment ago and failed, instead breaking out in a cold sweat. She didn't even want to look at Tseng, much less touch him, dance with him. Calling on her ancestors for any shred of genetic talent toward acting the part of good little Empress, Yuffie signaled the live band to begin their first dance: a traditional Wuteng number, much like a waltz but with a great deal more physical contact than its Eastern counterparts.
They began with a short repetitive phrase, which would break once Yuffie and Tseng had located each other and begun. After she and Tseng had danced a few bars together, alone, the rest of their company would join.
Yuffie and Tseng's eyes locked across the open space, and though she wanted to resist, her feet carried her lightly over the floor, heels tapping as she went. In a few seconds, she found herself standing front-to-front with him, a couple inches of space between their chests. His black eyes sent a sizzle through her despite her best efforts, so she stared at his chest and tried not to punch him.
They began the prowl. Traditional Wuteng dances did not start with physical contact between the partners. They would dance close, circling around each other in an almost predatory manner until the last fourth of the song, in which he would take her into his arms. Wuteng dances exemplified the play of tension and restraint, a slow burning build to a dazzling finale.
Yuffie studiously did not meet Tseng's eyes, staring at some point on his left shoulder to gauge his movements. As the female partner, she would follow his lead, but whether or not she chose to do so did allow her some power in the dance. She could subtly pull the strings, leading him in one direction or another, while he guided the larger flourishes. Several times he led her into a series of dizzying spins and twirls, and she wondered in each instance if he were attempting to throw her off deliberately. As gawky and uncouth as she could be, though, Yuffie had a certain grace. On the battlefield she danced circles around her opponents, and years of training made it easy for her to translate this to the dance floor. Tseng could not outdance her even if he tried.
At one point, he bent over her, face very close, and when she could do nothing but direct her eyes toward him, he smiled with some derision. Yuffie scowled as he craned further over her torso, forcing her into a backbend of astonishing flexibility. The crowd gasped as her head stopped barely a foot above the floor and the slit in her dress revealed a small but enticing expanse of skin. They froze in this position for a dramatic moment, all of her muscles straining with the effort not to let his body make contact with hers.
The bridge of the song sounded, a signal for them to begin touching. The music slowed, the drumbeats dramatic and large in the dance hall, and Tseng reached out confident hands and took her firmly by the waist. She managed not to struggle as he easily hefted her into the air then let her slide down the front of his body at maddeningly slow pace until her feet hit the ground again.
When he touched her, she was torn between the goosebumps rising on her arms and the urge to punch him until he let go. They danced close for the required last fourth of the song, his black and red sleeves brushing the exposed parts of her body and making her shiver.
The dance ended as they struck their final pose, Tseng twirling her smoothly and wrapping her in his arms. Her back pressed to the buttons down the front of his chest. The band began the next tune, the crowd breaking into couples and singles heading to the banquet table to chat and eat. Yuffie and Tseng moved seamlessly apart with no communication. After the initial dance, they would be expected to grace secondary partners with their royal presences.
As Yuffie sought out Cid for her second dance, she couldn't help but notice that Tseng had apparently located Elena and engaged her. They were close, this Eastern slow tune less artful than the Wuteng opener. She ignored the irrational spike of jealousy at their heads bent toward each other, their lips moving in an inaudible but obviously warm conversation if their smiles were any indication.
She knew, from this, that Tseng was not above attempting to get under her skin. As poised as he acted, he could be just as petty as her, and somehow, this made her feel a bit better about their situation. The few times she'd compared herself to Tseng, she'd found herself lacking, but this display of subtle childishness spawned Yuffie's realization that even the head of the Turks was not a model of perfection and adulthood all the time. Understanding this softened him somewhat in her eyes, made him more human and accessible. She felt the last several days' anger crumble at the edges.
Then, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her flush against another body. Yuffie had time to register the scent of a woman's perfume, then something cool and blunt nudged her temple. From behind her right ear, a feminine voice said slowly, "All of you move back five paces, or the Princess dies."
Activity ceased in waves, starting with the people nearest Yuffie and her captor. Tseng turned first, almost before the woman had finished speaking, and she noticed his hand twitch toward a particular place in his robes.
"Shinra dog," the woman said sharply, "do you wish me to spill your White Rose's blood? No? Hands up."
A muscle in his jaw jumped, and his chin lifted with his empty hands. Other than that, he made no moves toward her. Yuffie's own hands itched to reach for her kunai. Triple crap. How could I be so careless?
"Well, go on," she hissed. "Either name your demands, or kill me."
By this point, the entire crowd had gone silent, everyone turning to watch. Tseng narrowed his eyes at her and gave a slight shake of her head.
Alarm zinged through her when the woman dug the gun further into Yuffie's temple. She felt the telltale tingle of Leviathan's magic pricking at her extremities, in her gut, and she tried very hard to clamp down on the god's defensive response. No need to complicate the situation further by turning into a human lamp.
"Listen, all of you. Foreigners, traitors, disgraces to Wutai," the woman said in a low, cool voice. Despite the relatively dulcet tones of her speech, her tone carried across the heads of the now-silent crowd. "Selling the artifacts of ancestral Wutai will be tolerated no longer. Our Empress," and here she spat the word like something foul, "will face the consequences of her dishonorable actions. She has been a plague to this country and our god Leviathan for her entire miserable life. From her lazy failure of a father, to her weak mother—"
Yuffie snarled. "Say another word about my mother, you fu—"
"Silence. Any more from you, and I'll pull this trigger. I don't care how long I have to rot in jail, as long as the people know the tru—"
At that moment, Yuffie seized her opportunity. The spiked bracelet on her left wrist would find its purpose now. With a quick thrust, too fast for her assailant to react, she jabbed the woman in the belly. The tiny spines found their intended target, surprising the assailant and setting her off balance. Yuffie pushed away just before a gunshot sounded, sending the woman down in a spray of blood.
The warm liquid peppered Yuffie's neck and chest as she stumbled backward. The crowd shifted further away at the gunfire, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gunner—Rude, she suspected, as no one on her level had had time to draw arms.
The ringing in her ears dulled, and she realized belatedly that the woman was still alive. The shot had lodged in her back, and her death would be a slow one. Yuffie's hands were bristling with kunai, and Tseng was beside her with gun drawn, watching the surrounding crowd for any signs of movement.
"Who sent you?" she spat, feeling utterly savage.
The woman laughed, red coating her tongue and teeth. "I will die before I tell you, disease of my motherland."
"I can make your death quick if you tell me who sent you," Yuffie whispered, her voice a dangerous caress. She flipped one of her tiny daggers into the air and caught it, the blade flickering in the chandelier-light.
The woman laughed again, and Yuffie looked quickly at Tseng as he stepped forward and placed one hard shoe on her hand.
"Tell us who sent you, or I will ensure you live long enough to suffer," he said quietly.
"It doesn't matter," she said with a mocking, triumphant smile. "You'll all be dead in five minutes anyway."