Elira didn't know what time it was when she finally awoke, but she knew it was early -- too early to get out of bed. The light percolating in through the window wasn't yet from a sun passed ten o'clock and so she closed her eyes again and, yawning, shifted over to snuggle up against Vincent.
Except Vincent was no longer in the bed with her. Surprised, Elira propped herself up on an elbow and glanced blearily around the room. Vincent was nowhere to be seen, but the bathroom door was closed; he was likely shaving, she realized, going through his morning routine as if they were still in North Corel. Moaning wearily at his obstinate refusal to sleep in, she lay back down and tried to drift off again.
She was just beginning to doze when the sound of the bathroom door opening brought her back into complete wakefulness. Groaning so that Vincent would hear her and perhaps feel a little bad for getting up so early and disturbing her sleep, she pulled her pillow up and stuffed it over her head.
"Elira?"
It sounded like he was approaching. Elira mumbled at him from under the pillow.
"Pardon?" he asked, now sounding like he was standing next to her, beside the bed.
"I asked," Elira muttered, pulling her head into view and likely throwing her curls into a frenzy, "what time is it?"
"A quarter after nine," Vincent responded automatically, already completely dressed and straightening the cuffs of his dress shirt.
Elira groaned loudly and murmured, "It's too early to be up. What are you doing up?" before shoving her head back under her pillow.
She felt Vincent sit down beside her on the bed. It was crazy how much sleep he didn't need sometimes. They'd made love the previous evening before crawling under the covers to sleep, and then again when they'd woken up together in the wee hours of the morning. Wasn't he tired? Elira knew she was.
"Benita's been to the door twice," Vincent informed her. "She wanted me to wake you at eight. The other women have all decided to hike up the Da Chao paths before lunch and she would like you to go with them."
What was Benita doing up? Elira sighed and pulled her head out again. "What time are they going?" she asked, her voice cracking tiredly.
"I think they were hoping to go at ten," Vincent answered.
Elira blew out her breath and lay down again. "Okay, okay," she said after a moment. "I'll get up in a few minutes."
The 'few minutes' stretched into nearly half an hour. Elira started awake from a strange half-dream about trying to scale one of the faces of Da Chao when Vincent called her name. "What time is it?" she asked again, not bothering to open her eyes.
"Quarter to ten," he answered. "If you were hoping to shower before leaving, I would suggest you get up now."
Elira merely frowned at him in tired annoyance. She heard Vincent sigh.
"Elira," he began after a moment, no more than a disembodied voice above her head, "do you want to go with them?"
She murmured an affirmative answer.
"And do you want to take a shower before getting dressed?" he continued.
Elira thought about this for a moment, wondering if it was really necessary when she was going to get all sweaty again afterward, and then mumbled out a "Yeah, I should."
"Then you should get up," he observed mercilessly.
Elira scowled, her eyes still closed in refusal of the morning. "I know, I know," she sighed blandly. "Gimme a few minutes."
"In a few minutes, it will be time for you to leave," he pointed out.
Elira pulled the pillow back over her head, ignoring him. Just five more minutes. They would wait for her. She was just settling back against the mattress when the feel of Vincent's fingers against her ribs made her squeal and shift quickly away from him. His hand pursued her, however, until she was forced to throw the pillow off and sit up sullenly. "I was going to get up in a minute," she argued in annoyance.
Vincent raised a dubious eyebrow. Elira tried to scowl, but her lips contorted involuntarily in amusement. Absurdly unwilling to let go of her resentment after having to wake up at what felt like so early an hour, she grabbed up the discarded pillow and launched it at her husband. He caught it easily before it struck him and immediately lobbed it back at her. The retaliation was unexpected; before Elira could react, the pillow hit her square in the face. It was a full five seconds before she could do anything more than stare at him, open-mouthed. And then she gave a battle cry and, leaping nimbly across the bed, pulled him down onto the mattress beside her and began to dig vengeful fingers into his ribs. The war was on.
At first, Vincent was able to keep his laughter to himself, but Elira knew just where he was sensitive and soon had him chuckling, and then laughing as she poked, prodded, and pinched his sides and stomach. He rolled away from her, onto his front, but Elira wasn't going to let him get away that easily. Throwing herself forward, she landed with her abdomen on his back and slipped her fingers under his arms. Vincent gasped and, shouting out a garbled cry of protest, broke into a helpless fit of laughter. Elira couldn't keep herself from giggling as he attempted to buck her off without success.
"All right," he finally wheezed. "That's enough! Stop! Enough!"
Laughing victoriously, Elira stopped tickling him and flopped her cheek forward onto one of his shoulder blades while they both caught their breath. After a moment, she put her hands down to rub his sides apologetically. He flinched at first, expecting another assault on his poor ribs, but then relaxed into her touch. When he moved to roll over, Elira pushed herself off of him, and then settled against him again once he was on his back. He sighed as she snuggled her head under his chin. "You're supposed to be getting up," he reiterated, though there was warmth in his voice.
Elira smiled resignedly. "I know. You're just so fun and comfortable, it's difficult to go." She sensed more than saw him roll his eyes; she chuckled. "I think I could lie here and tickle you all day."
Vincent squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't think I'm in agreement with that idea," he said.
Elira laughed. "Well, you wouldn't get a whole lot of say in the matter."
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Elira squealed again as Vincent tickled her through her nightie; she was about to give him a little taste of revenge he wouldn't soon forget when there came a sharp knocking at the door. She got quickly to her knees and Vincent sat up beside her. They glanced at each other. Benita. Elira made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh and Vincent shook his head at her as if she'd been the only one acting childish. Pulling a face at him, she climbed from the bed and took a step toward the door. She didn't get any further, however, as Vincent stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"I'll get the door," he said, getting to his feet and quickly re-tucking his shirt. "You go take a shower."
Elira nodded at the logic that made and dashed off to the bathroom. She could hear Benita's voice a few moments later as she prepared for a quick shower.
"Is Lir comin'?"
"Yes," Vincent answered, his voice substantially quieter than Benita's. "She's taking a shower now."
Benita didn't answer, but Elira could almost see her nodding. "Awright, then. Tell 'er to meet us in the lobby when she's ready. We'll be down there 'bout ten er so. Thanks, Vince."
No more words were exchanged and Elira stepped into the spray of hot water. A moment later, she heard Vincent enter the bathroom. There was a pause before he asked, "Did you hear Benita?"
"Yes," Elira answered. "Meet them in the lobby at ten. Got it." As she lathered her hands up with soap she asked him, "What are you going to do this morning while we're hiking?"
There was a short silence as Vincent considered her question. "I might visit the Pagoda," he replied.
Elira couldn't stop her murmur of disapproval as images of Vincent sporting injuries ranging from bruises to broken limbs flashed through her mind. As if he'd read her thoughts, Vincent continued, "I'll obviously have to stock up on potions before I go. Although working in the forge and taking care of an energetic toddler are vigorous tasks in their own right, I don't think they'll have improved my fighting skills any."
Elira chuckled her agreement as she doused her head with water, reaching blindly for the shampoo. In a moment, she'd scrubbed her hair clean and rinsed the bubbles out of her curls. Wiping her eyes clear, she turned the taps off and pushed the shower curtain aside. As she stepped out of the tub onto the bath mat, she found a towel at her elbow. Glancing at Vincent, who was leaning casually against the counter and holding the towel out for her, she smiled.
"Thank you, Vincent," she said, and, taking the towel from him, she proceeded to dry herself quickly. Vincent took the towel from her when she was done and, as he hung it up on a rack to dry, she marched into the room and began to hunt for some clothes that would be comfortable for hiking in. The search lasted for no more than a minute or two before she pulled out a pair of light-weight beige pants and a red tank top. After she'd slipped into them, she drew her curls into a tiny ponytail at the base of her neck and began a search for her sneakers.
"What time is it now?" she asked Vincent as she sat on the bed, shoving one socked foot into her shoe.
Vincent glanced at his watch. "Just about ten," he answered.
Elira winced as she tugged her other sneaker into place. "Okay, I guess I'd better run." She stepped up to Vincent and drew him into a quick kiss. "Be careful at the Pagoda, okay?"
Vincent sighed at her apprehension and nodded. Elira smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "I'll see you at lunch." She turned and jogged into the hallway and out of sight.
Vincent took a moment to make the bed before changing out of his suit clothes and into something more suitable for the Pagoda, though equally black. Then, making sure to pocket the room key, he locked the door and stepped out into the hall.
One of the doors down the hall was open. As he approached it, Vincent slowed his stride and glanced in. Cid looked up from where he had one boot up on the bed, tying the laces, and grinned.
"Hey, Vincent," he greeted him. "How are you?"
"Fine. And you?"
Cid finished with the laces and brought his leg down with a creaking sigh. "Okay, I guess. Where're you headed?"
"To the Pagoda," Vincent answered.
Cid reeled off an expletive in amused surprise. "Why's everyone so damned ambitious?" he demanded. "Hiking up the friggin' mountain at the crack of dawn, going to the Pagoda... And I thought I was being pretty zealous getting out of bed before ten." He shook his head. "Thought this was supposed be a vacation, for God's sake."
Vincent couldn't help but smirk. Cid noticed and grinned. "Well, anyway," he began after a pause, "I was just about to go out for a smoke. I'll walk with you, if you think you can stand this cranky old bastard."
"By all means," Vincent answered, and a moment later Cid was stepping out into the hall. Once he'd locked the door behind him, they strode off of the floor and out of the building.
On the way to the Pagoda, Vincent couldn't help but notice that Cid's eyes would periodically drift to him as if he expected him to vanish at any moment. Eventually, Vincent's irritation at Cid's furtive glances got the better of him and he turned to meet the other man's blue-eyed gaze with his own steely one. Cid gave a chagrined smile and cleared his throat.
"I have to say, Vincent, it's freaking weird to see you again, especially when you look almost exactly like you did before. All the rest of us, we've seen each other every few years, seen each other get older. But you..." He wagged a finger in Vincent's direction. "...you look the same as you did twelve years ago. I mean, it's damn spooky," he chuckled. "We're all approaching middle age, and here you are, still as young as you were then. Makes me feel like an old geezer just looking at you."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "A lot of things have changed about me, Cid," he intoned quietly. "Maybe the changes haven't been external in most cases, but I am not the same man I was in Avalanche. I am no longer subject to Hojo's curse, a malfunction removed my previous metal arm; I have rejoined the human race since I last saw most of you." He smiled a little. "And I will be more than happy to grow old when the time comes."
Cid just stared at him for a few seconds before giving an acknowledging grunt and pulling a cigarette out of a package hidden in the front pocket of his flight jacket. He had slipped it between his lips was just about to light it when he sighed out a curse and waved the match out. A moment later, he was shoving the cigarette back into the pack. The Pagoda was only a few steps away and Cid glanced at it, his eyes roving to the top. And then he turned to Vincent.
"Well," he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, "maybe it's me making me feel old." He pursed his lips. "If you don't mind, maybe I'll come up with you. Maybe we can take turns or something." He let the suggestion hang in the air.
Vincent didn't reply immediately, considering. And then he nodded. Cid gave a trademark grin and clapped Vincent genially on the shoulder. "You still think I could kick some ass, doncha?"
Vincent's small smile returned. "Compared with me, you are still a young man capable of doing anything."
"Damn, don't encourage me!" Cid laughed suddenly and, casting a dismissive glance at his clothing, which definitely was not suited for combat, he started up the Pagoda stairs with Vincent a step behind him.
The Da Chao mountains were beautiful in the light of the mid-morning, climbing into the sky like pale, craggy giants and casting fading westward shadows over those who were fearless enough to approach them. Elira breathed in the air and the scent of the rock recklessly, falling hopelessly in love with everything about her surroundings. Oh, if only they could move to Wutai. It was so beautiful and solemn it made her insides ache. She'd never been to any place more beautiful. If only Vincent could be here to see what she was seeing, to feel what she was feeling. She smiled at the sky above her and closed her eyes against the warmth pouring down onto her face.
"Hey, Lir, watch where yer goin'!"
Elira opened her eyes and immediately noticed the small outcropping of rock in front of her. Wincing a little at the idea that she could've kept going and fallen over the rocks, she moved to walk around them and then grinned demurely at Benita who just rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Lir, sometimes I wonder how you've managed ta live this long wit'out killin' yerself in some accident."
Elira merely chuckled. A moment later, Benita approached her and linked their elbows together. Elira smiled at her and they continued along the well-worn path upward toward the faces of Da Chao, walking in the center of their procession between Yuffie and Tifa, the more energetic of their group, and the lagging forms of Shera and Lyllian. They were all dressed in various articles of warm-weather clothing, and those with long hair had pulled it into braids or ponytails to let what breeze there was cool the skin of their faces and necks. It was a thoroughly comfortable day for hiking and Elira was glad now that she'd come along. Da Chao was something she was sure she would remember for the rest of her life.
They'd been walking for almost an hour when they reached a small natural overhang of rock in the path, just wide enough to accommodate six people. Yuffie barely had time to finish asking if anyone wanted to rest before the others were seating themselves and pulling the water bottles they'd been provided with from around their necks. Elira took only two small mouthfuls, hoping to make her supply last until they reached the bottom again, and was just screwing the top back on when Tifa turned to her with a smile.
"I'm a little curious, Elira," she began, pulling her hair free of the ponytail and casually retying it. "Was the account Vincent gave of your journey to the Northern Continent entirely true? It seemed a little...unfinished."
Yuffie nodded suddenly as if she had been waiting to ask the same question herself. "It was like he left half the story out. I mean, you couldn't have just waltzed along to the Forgotten City and then married for the heck of it afterward."
Elira chuckled into her lap. "Yeah, Vincent did leave out a bit of the story. I think talking about how our relationship developed would've made him uncomfortable."
"But you wouldn't feel uncomfortable talking about it, would you?" Yuffie grinned inquiringly.
Tifa shot her friend a scalding glance, scandalized. "Yuffie, it might be too personal to talk about. We shouldn't pressure her."
Elira laughed again. "That's all right, I wouldn't mind talking about it. Our journey was so much more than just a trip to the Northern Continent; to understand it I think you'd have to hear the whole story."
Yuffie settled herself cross-legged on the rock floor, looking interested. The others, too, seemed eager to hear what had happened. Elira cleared her throat and, feeling the bubble of excitement in her stomach, realized that she was just as enthusiastic about telling the tale as they were to hear it. "Well," she began thoughtfully, "I think it started in the first moment I saw him; something about him caught my attention and made me hire him even after I'd made up my mind not to. He was so quiet and hidden, I think I felt like I wanted to delve into him and find out why he seemed so secretive. I think..." She stopped for a moment. "I think I felt what I'm going to call a 'connection' between us at that moment; I thought that maybe I could understand him. I don't know. I can't really explain it. After that, I went out of my way to try to get to know him, and eventually he started giving in, maybe just to get me off his back." She chuckled quietly at herself. "Poor Vincent. I must've driven him crazy. Then there was Terry." Elira suppressed a wince.
"Another employee?" Shera asked.
Elira nodded. "I think Vincent mentioned him once at dinner. He was a friend of mine, but he became jealous when I started spending time with Vincent. And then...I don't know." She sighed. "Our friendship fell apart and he quit. I felt so guilty about it, but there was nothing I could see to do. Vincent must've noticed how I felt because he began to open up to me a little more, and even invited me out to his sector to..." She smiled a little. "...learn how to shoot a gun."
Lyllian raised a thin eyebrow. "Romantic," she commented.
Everyone chuckled. Elira nodded. "That's Vincent, as un-romantic as they come." She cleared her throat again. "Well, while he was teaching me, we were finally forced to come to terms with our mutual attraction and ended up...sort of...sleeping together."
Tifa puffed out her breath in surprise. "I can see why Vincent didn't go into this," she said after a moment.
Elira nodded again. "It wasn't something we'd planned or even really thought about. It just sort of...happened. Afterwards, we were both a little uncomfortable; well, I was uncomfortable and I assume from his distance at the time that he was uncomfortable. So, we backed off from each other. But that didn't work; I wanted to keep the friendship that we'd had and he didn't. He seemed to want to let it go completely. That hurt a lot; I probably should've started realizing I was in love with him then, but I didn't. I didn't want to be in love again..."
"Again?" Yuffie asked.
Elira faltered; that had been too much information. She hadn't wanted to get into Eagan. "Well," she began hesitantly, "I'd been in love with someone earlier in my life who'd hurt me very badly; I didn't want that to happen again, so I convinced myself that I didn't love him, that I just needed someone to understand me. I made up excuses to be around him; and then came the discovery of Chaos." She waved a dismissive hand because Vincent had already covered this. "I wished so much that I could help him, so when we discovered those Cetra runes I had them translated and then went to tell Vincent. When I returned to the shop, though, Terry was there. He knew about Vincent's transformations from an...encounter they'd had a few weeks earlier, and was trying to get him to transform so that the police would take him away. I was able to tranquilize Vincent before he transformed and Terry left, seething. When Vincent woke up, he found that I'd sold the shop and we were ready to go to the Forgotten City to free him from Chaos."
"What happened to Terry?" Lyllian wondered aloud.
Elira shook her head and glanced at Benita. The older woman just shrugged. "We ain't seen 'im in Neo-Midgar since that day," she said. "I think he's pro'bly left the city by now."
Elira pursed her lips, frowning into her lap. "I hope he was able to forget about Vincent and me and get on with his life," she murmured.
There was a small silence and Benita patted her gently on the shoulder. "Wasn' yer fault," she said.
Elira shrugged. "I know. I just...feel badly about how it all turned out."
Benita scoffed. "Ya woulda rather you'd married Terry?" she asked incredulously.
Elira shook her head so forcefully that the other women giggled. "Not for all the gil in the Gold Saucer. I just mean I wish we could have patched things up before I left for good. Now I'll always wonder what happened to him."
"Whatever happened to 'im was 'is own choice, Lir," Benita assured her.
"That's right," Tifa spoke up. "If he decided to live in the anger of the past, it was his own fault. Don't let yourself believe he didn't have a choice in the matter."
Elira smiled a little. "I know. I just...wish I knew." Another silence followed and Elira chuckled quietly. "Sorry, I've gone way off topic and I'm making everyone uncomfortable. Where was I?"
"You weren't making us uncomfortable," Yuffie declared firmly, "and you were saying you'd just left Neo-Midgar."
Elira made a thoughtful noise. "Well, you all heard about our trip to Kalm and everything..." Tifa smiled at her. "...so I'll move on to Costa Del Sol. This part was really hard on me, and probably on Vincent, too. He didn't stay in the villa with me for the three or so weeks we waited; I think he was afraid that we would get closer if we were living in the same house. I missed him horribly, but kept busy working at the bookstore of a friend of mine that I met on the ferry, Leo Hayden. He was the one, I think, who made me realize that I was in love with Vincent. He wanted me to stay with him in Costa Del Sol, and I almost did out of loneliness and anger at Vincent; but I couldn't fool myself any longer. I loved Vincent." She shook her head. "Poor Leo. He was such a wonderful man and he deserved so much more than what I gave him. I hope he found happiness, too."
There was another moment of silence before Elira roused herself from her thoughts with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. One more regret." She shook off Benita sympathetic gaze and made herself focus on her memories about the journey. "Vincent let me come on the rest of the journey even though his first inclination was to leave me behind. He knew it would be dangerous, more dangerous than anything we'd endured so far, but I wasn't about to leave him. Chaos was so hell-bent on my departure that we began to wonder if maybe it knew something we didn't about this, that maybe a second person was needed, so he let me come. It was very dangerous; I was very nearly killed twice. But we were able to get rid of Chaos, and then Vincent died. I almost committed suicide in that place," she admitted. "It's fortunate that Vincent woke up when he did or he would've found me with a bullet-hole through my head."
"Oh, Lir," Benita breathed.
Elira shook her head a little distractedly, sensing that Benita was about to offer some words of comfort. They could wait; she couldn't stop the story now. The part forthcoming was something not even she and Vincent talked about because it was painful to remember, perhaps the most painful thing she'd ever suffered through. But it had to be said; it was where their love had really started. "I'd told him I loved him before he died, but it took me a week and a half after he wakened up again to ask him about it. It was hard; he was still afraid that it wouldn't work out, that one of us would end up hurting the other, but eventually he agreed to try a relationship. We stayed in Bone Village until the barge returned, both of us a little awkward and uncomfortable even though things were going well. It was so amazing to watch him discover his humanity all over again; I was falling more and more in love with him, but I didn't press the relationship, afraid to scare him away. We didn't kiss, or hold each other for the entire three weeks we were waiting. He was still a little distant and I wanted to give him the time and space to become comfortable with the idea of being in a relationship. I thought it was going perfectly until we arrived in Costa Del Sol and he..." She paused for a moment and swallowed the growing lump in her throat. "...left me there, alone, at the inn."
Yuffie frowned in consternation. "Why'd he do that?"
Elira shrugged. "He was still afraid. He thought it wouldn't work out. He thought I'd be better off with someone else. I don't know. It took me a couple of days to realize that he was really gone. I thought at first that he would be back, but by the third day of sitting and waiting in the hotel room I was starting to doubt it. I didn't know what to do or where to go. I was running out of money so I knew I had to do something soon, but I didn't want to leave in case he came back. My thoughts and emotions were so chaotic then; I would go from hating him to feeling like I was going to die without him to hating him again. I couldn't sleep; I couldn't eat anything. It was the fifth day when he came back, looking just as, if not more, haggard than I did. At that point I had been making downhearted plans to leave back to Neo-Midgar to maybe start my life over again; I don't know how he knew I would still be at the inn. When he arrived at the door to the room, I was so furious and so relieved...I remember I cried and slapped him and screamed at him until he finally grabbed me and forced me to be still until I'd calmed down. And then he told me he was sorry for leaving, that he'd tried but he couldn't do it; he couldn't live without me. I'd become his reason for living at all." Realizing that she was staring at a crease in her pants, Elira looked up and glanced around at the others. No one said anything. Shera was dabbing suspiciously at her eyes. Finally, Yuffie stirred.
"What a love story," she breathed. "I want a guy to tell me he can't live without me."
Tifa chuckled. "You can't tell us that you've never had a boy say romantic nonsense to you."
Yuffie pursed her lips and shrugged a little too carelessly for it too look like she wasn't hiding some pain. "I did have a boyfriend for a couple of years, but he made it clear in no uncertain terms that he could live without me."
Benita scoffed angrily. "Men," she spat distastefully.
"What happened?" Lyllian asked Yuffie.
Yuffie picked distractedly at the hem of her shorts. "Oh." She smiled grimly. "He wanted to get married. Unfortunately, he was a little uncomfortable with the idea of having a wife who was also going to be the ruler of Wutai. I think he was looking for someone a little more...domesticated. He left the city when my father died."
"I'm so sorry," Tifa said, laying a hand on Yuffie's shoulder.
Yuffie smiled weakly at her and shrugged again. "No big deal. So he wasn't the one. Plenty of other guys to choose from, right?" Her blinding grin returned and Elira was surprised by the woman's seemingly unconscious ability to go from sober to cheerful in seconds. "So, Lyllian," Yuffie continued without a hitch, turning to the willowy woman at Shera's side, "I don't think we ever heard how you met Reeve."
Lyllian chuckled quietly. "That could be because it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He hired me to be his secretary in the first month of his being elected a representative of Neo-Midgar, and things just progressed from there. Now we have a house in Odrium and a seven year old son, Marcus." She shrugged. "Just your average, run-of-the-mill love story."
"No love story is ordinary or run-of-the-mill," Tifa objected immediately. "Each one has something that makes it unique and incredible."
Just as it looked like Lyllian would reply, Yuffie got to her feet and, brushing dirt from the seat of her shorts, smiled apologetically. "I know this is, like, important girl-talk and everything, but if we don't get going again, it's going to be unique and incredible if we get back in time for lunch."
Elira chuckled with the others and pulled herself up, slipping the strap of her water bottle back around her neck and dusting herself off until they were all ready to go.
It took them another half hour of hiking to reach the awe-inspiring faces of Da Chao, but it passed quickly as Yuffie told them about when the lecherous Don Corneo had, in a demented search for a wife, captured her and Elena of the Turks and suspended them upside down from those faces. It was a very entertaining time full of laughter and light-hearted chatter; thoughts of anything besides the mountains, the sun, and old tales of Avalanche were pushed aside until the sight of the Da Chao faces bought a few moments of reverential silence. As Elira looked into the stone eyes many feet above her, her mind drifted to Vincent. Her thoughts weren't permitted for very long, however; no sooner had she wondered to herself what he was up to in the Pagoda when Benita was breaking her out of her reverie with an arm around her shoulders. She started distractedly for a moment before smiling at her friend's grin and, following the prompting of the others, began the descent down the mountain paths.
Vincent could feel his muscles tiring even as he moved first to block a disabling chop aimed for the juncture between his neck and shoulder and then to step quickly aside to escape a sweeping leg meant to fell him. He'd had no break between the fourth floor battle and this one (Cid had decided he'd had enough after the third battle) and it was telling on him. His body wasn't used to so much exercise and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace of a fifth floor battle for much longer. He'd been strictly on the defensive for a few minutes now, waiting for a small window to catch his breath and attack, but it looked like it might not come in time. He was almost done and his opponent seemed to know it.
The fifth floor fighter was a man of average height and obvious physical strength who was perhaps five years Vincent's biological senior; he wore a grim expression as they battled, concentrating on keeping up his rate of attack in these last few crucial minutes when a moment's hesitation could cost him the upper hand. Vincent watched him intently, studying him in order to predict his next move and defend himself accordingly, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to position himself in time to deflect the blows. Inevitably, if this pace continued, one was going to break through his resistance. Perhaps if he could hold his own for a few minutes more, his opponent would tire enough to give him a chance to return to the offensive...
But it wasn't to be. Vincent allowed himself to be distracted by a feint that, he noticed a moment too late, left him wide open for an attack that would send him to the floor. Resigning himself to his loss, he prepared himself for the move that would end the battle.
It didn't come. The man stepped back from him and bowed quickly. "Please," he began, the Wutaiian accent obvious in his voice though it didn't impede his speech, "don't take my withdrawal as a sign of mercy or pity. I can see that your timing is off, as is your stamina, but I can also see that you were, in your day, a better fighter than myself. I wish to end the battle now as a win on my part without dealing you the finishing move as a sign of regard from one warrior to another. Is this acceptable to you?"
The confusion Vincent had felt a moment ago melted away in the face of such a compliment. In most cases, Wutaiian warriors never withheld the finishing move from anyone save their teachers and masters. He bowed deeply. "Yes. Thank you."
The man gave one last shallow bow and, with brisk movements, pivoted on his heel and walked out of the battle room through a door behind him. Vincent turned and approached the spot where Cid stood, working at the knot of the bandana they'd offered him on the bottom floor to keep his hair out of his face until it came undone in his hand. He was just pulling it off when Cid spoke.
"That was some fight," he said appreciatively, standing from where he'd been leaning against one end of the bo he'd procured on the first floor. "Wasn't sure who was going to win for a few minutes, there."
Vincent moved to where he'd dropped his coat and, crouching down, dipped a hand into a deep pocket for one of the potions he'd bought from the tiny apothecary inside the door at the bottom level. Popping the cork out of the mouth of the vial, he drank the contents and felt the old remembered feeling of bruises and aches tingling out of existence. It was almost eerie to feel it again so many years later and he was glad he only needed one. He straightened up and the tingling spread to his overworked muscles, soothing them until he felt partially rejuvenated. He did a couple of experimental stretches like the ones he'd done on the first floor before beginning the battles and was pleased to find that the weariness of his limbs was hardly noticeable. Not bad for twelve years without battle, unless one counted fighting the ghost-wolves in the Sleeping Forest two years ago as a battle. Not that the battles with Avalanche had used much of the fighting techniques he'd learned as a Turk; he'd relied on a gun and his transformations much of the time then. Over forty years without a true hand-to-hand battle, and yet he still had it. He glanced at his watch as he scooped his coat off of the floor. Just after one o'clock. Time to find Elira; the women were probably done their hike by now.
Noticing that Vincent was ready to go, Cid twirled the bo deftly into one hand and then held it loosely at his side so that he could carry it easily down the stairs. Vincent watched him unobtrusively, still a little surprised by the ease with which Cid had slipped back into the role of a fighter. Cid himself had seemed surprised at first, too. Once he'd beaten the warrior on the bottom floor, he'd smirked and, staring appraisingly at the bo, said, "It's no Venus Gospel, but it sure as hell brings something back."
After Cid had returned the bo to the auxiliary station and Vincent had turned in the bandana, they headed for the exit. At the door, Cid hesitated and Vincent turned to look at him. Cid smiled.
"Thanks for letting this grouchy old geezer come along," he said, and then he sighed and glanced out into Wutai. "Been feeling a little obsolete lately, but now I feel better. As soon as that bo touched my palms...wham! I could feel it, like something breaking out from underneath the surface. I've still got it."
Vincent nodded, understanding what he meant. Cid gave another sigh, this one a little drawn out as if he was breathing deeply of the air, and began to pluck at his package of cigarettes out of his pocket. He was just drawing one out when a shout caused both men to look up. It was Elira, walking toward them and waving, followed by the other women. Cid cursed and quickly shoved the cigarettes out of sight.
"I'm supposed to be quitting," he mumbled to Vincent. Vincent glanced at him with a little sympathy before descending the stairs to meet Elira.
As they headed back to the hotel to shower before lunch, Elira talked excitedly about the Da Chao mountains and the other women, gesturing as she spoke and grinning the entire time. Vincent smiled to himself; he hadn't seen her this excited about something in a while and he'd almost forgotten how charming it made her. He told her about the Pagoda at her insistence and, despite her earlier misgivings, she laughed out of pleasure at his reaching the fifth level. This time he couldn't keep the smile to himself. Her moods and emotions had always been somewhat contagious.
Lunch was a small informal affair at Yuffie's manor. Elira ate well, realizing upon seeing the food that neither she nor Vincent had eaten any breakfast. The next planned event wasn't until dinner in the evening, so once everyone had finished eating they wandered off to do their own thing for the remainder of the afternoon. Vincent and Elira, without really making any conscious decision to do so, went for a leisurely walk. Before too long, they were leaving houses and buildings and roads behind, walking dirt paths through a park until they came to a large green area that had been sectioned off by a large iron fence. There was no gate over the entrance, however; just an archway and a sign that identified the place as the Wutai cemetery. They walked up to the fence and looked in. The graves were in neat rows between more dirt paths and there were flowers and trees everywhere. It was, all in all, a very nice looking place. Elira turned to Vincent.
"Want to go in?"
Vincent gave a little shrug. "All right."
There were birds in the trees and wind rustling the leaves and the grass; there was nothing oppressive about this cemetery. Many of the headstones were made of white rock and carved into eye-catching designs or figures. Elira began to look at some of the names, though of course they meant nothing to her. But she'd always thought people of Wutai had such beautiful names. Breathing in the scent of the flowers that lay almost everywhere, Elira moved her arm to link it with Vincent's. He glanced at her, a tiny smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and draped an arm around her waist. She lay her head against his shoulder and sighed.
"This is the kind of place I'd love to be buried," she said idly.
A small tremor went through Vincent, though he suppressed it quickly enough. Elira looked up at him. "You okay?"
He nodded. "I just would rather not picture you in one of these graves."
She laughed a little, hoping to ease the growing tension. "Well, I'm going to have to die someday. Maybe you'll die before me, an old gray-haired man, and then you won't have to worry about it." Vincent didn't say anything and Elira frowned to herself; she hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, she'd just been talking. Cursing her thoughtless tongue, she switched topics. "I wonder how my dad and Pegatha are doing."
Vincent didn't reply, and then he stopped walking, his arm falling from her waist. Elira took her hand from his arm and stepped back to look at him, wanting both to apologize and chide him for taking her conversation so seriously; and then she realized that he wasn't even looking at her. Confused, Elira followed his gaze to one of the headstones.
The particular grave he was staring at looked fairly new, no more than six months old, the grass still endeavoring to cover the dark earth. The stone was large with a figure carved on top, a bald man sitting cross-legged with a face very reminiscent of the faces of Da Chao. Elira looked to the name, but it didn't mean anything to her. Murasaki Sakito. She glanced back to Vincent, surprised and a little worried to see the frown on his face and to hear the shallow, ragged breaths coming from him. "Vincent?" she said quietly.
He tore his eyes away from the gravestone and looked at Elira, his expression dazed. And then he blinked and a little of the rational Vincent returned. "I think..." He swallowed. "I think I recognize that name."
Elira took a step toward him in concern. "Who is it?" she asked.
He was shaking his head. "I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice quavering. "She's dead." His frown of confusion deepened and he craned his neck to look at the sky as if it had some answer for him. And then he was gazing at the headstone again, his eyes darting and thoughtful beneath furrowed brows.
And then he had turned and started walking quickly out of the cemetery. Elira started at his sudden departure and ran to catch up with him. "Where are you going?" she asked him as she came up beside him.
"I have to find Yenko," he replied cryptically, and then broke into a run. Elira knew already that she had no chance of keeping up with him so she followed as best she could, disconcerted and more than a little anxious. When she came back into town, she headed for Yuffie's manor, expecting that she would find both Yenko and her husband there.
Vincent knocked on the door harder than was probably necessary, a little out of breath and disheveled. A moment later there were soft footsteps and the door opened to reveal the diminutive housekeeper, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun and her expression shrewd as always. Her eyes widened, however, as they took Vincent in.
"What do you want?" she asked, her usually steely voice made tremulous in her surprise.
"Who is Murasaki Sakito," he asked her suddenly.
Yenko's eyes widened further and she took a step backward. And then her expression darkened. "Why do you ask?"
"Please," Vincent entreated her, "tell me who she is."
Maybe it was the quiet desperation in his voice, maybe it was the confused grief radiating from him, but Yenko knew she couldn't turn him away. Sighing to herself, she opened the door. "Come inside, but take your boots off. Follow me. I will tell you."
She led him into a drawing room at the back of the house that was devoid of both noise and servants. She sat on the couch and waited while Vincent seated himself in a wicker chair to her right, partially facing her. She pursed her lips.
"I want to ask you again why you are asking," she said.
Despite his restlessness of a moment ago, Vincent was now the picture of detached patience; he leaned back and laced flesh fingers and metal latex digits together in his lap. "I saw her name on a headstone in the cemetery," he told her. "It was familiar to me and I want to know why; I think it may have something to do with a past I can't remember."
Yenko went very still and very pale. "It cannot possibly be..." she muttered, almost to herself. "No. No, you cannot possibly be him. He would be old by now."
"Who?" Vincent asked, now leaning forward.
Yenko looked up sharply. "I was Murasaki Sakito's caretaker for the last six months of her life. Yenko has been nursemaid to Lady Yuffie, and then caretaker for those who are near the end of their life. Murasaki was one of these. Those who are near death often feel a need to tell a story and I have been an ear for many life stories. She told me of an affair she had when she was a girl, and told me of the son that was produced out of that affair, a son she named Ikioi. Do you know that name?"
Vincent didn't respond for a few seconds. And then he nodded slowly, swallowing uncomfortably.
Yenko nodded once. "It was your father's name?" She spoke as if she'd meant it to be a statement, but her voice went up at the end, making it a question.
Vincent blinked and then took a deep but inaudible breath. "No," he answered after a small pause. And then, after another moment's hesitation, he continued. "Ikioi Sakito was my name."