Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Path of Seduction ❯ Chapter Twenty Three ( Chapter 23 )

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the property of Square-Enix. No profit is made from this work. Original content and characters are mine.

 

Path of Seduction

 

Chapter Twenty Three

 

“Wutai at last!” Tifa stared in awe up at the surrounding architecture. “I always wanted to come here.”

 

“Did you?” Aeris watched the sun glint off the wind chimes hung in every porch. Every building, down to the smallest item shop, was a study in exotic artistry to eyes used to the plain grunge of Midgar.

 

“Yep. My master Zangan studied here. He always said there was no place like it. And it's the best place for martial arts on the Planet.” She skipped a bit as they crossed an elaborate red bridge over a shallow stream. “Of course, with the war on for so long, there wasn't much chance for me to come here to further my training.” She stretched her arms back. “Well, maybe one day.”

 

Cloud looked back at them. “Later. We have to find Yuffie.”

 

Barret crossed his arms, a little uncomfortable surrounded by gilt and carvings. “Think anybody here's going to talk?”

 

Cloud shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” He looked around for someone to talk to, but most of the people he could see were a bit too far away and edging further off. “They sure don't like foreigners around here. Let's check the stores. They probably can't duck out from behind a counter too quickly.”

 

He headed for the closest shop, by-passing the private residences. The team spread out in the small space. Some of the local shoppers edged away with quiet whispers. Cloud pretended he did not see. He went right up to the counter.

 

“I'm looking for a girl named Yuffie. Have you seen her around here?”

 

The shopkeeper turned to his buddy. “Yuffie?”

 

The second man looked Cloud up and down. “Yuffie, Yuffie…that sounds familiar. Too bad I can't recall.” Cloud noticed the man's fingers making the universal `grease me' sign. He sighed and glanced at the list painted up behind the two men. “What are fire veils?”

 

The first man looked up with a hint of the devil in his grin. “Oh, those are excellent for travelers. They're good offense against just about anything you might run across out there. Really good if you have no materia.”

 

Cloud groaned. The things were a bit steeper than he would have liked, but he did need information. If they could not find Yuffie and retrieve their materia, they would need some kind of added protection anyway. “I'll take…” He did some quick calculations in his head. “Six.”

 

“Six it is!” The man turned away and Cloud reached into his pack for his cash, glad that at the very least, the bounty system for monster kills operated fairly in most places. People took their safety seriously these days. Shortchanging anyone willing to risk a limb in that line of work would spread the word, decrease the flow of fighters and let the offending place be overrun.

 

“So,” he began as he counted out the gil, “you don't know anything about Yuffie?”

 

The second storekeeper tightened his bandana. “We know a Yuffie. But she wouldn't be the one you want.” He made a show of pretending to inspect his nails. Cloud held his sigh in. It was starting to look as if the entire Wutai nation was a bunch of scalpers and conmen. They were all about parting the traveler from his money. No wonder Yuffie did what she had done.

 

“Give me two of those potions with that.” Just two. Cloud had to let them know that they could not dip into this well forever.

 

“Well,” the man drawled while his partner packaged the goods. “The Yuffie we know is a noblewoman.” He looked Cloud up and down. “So she probably wouldn't have much to do with you.”

 

“Even if she is a scrappy excuse for a princess herself,” put in the packager. His partner turned around and glared at him.

 

“Princess?” Cloud was completely confused.

 

“Yeah, princess.” The man tried to pretend the slip was of no consequence. “Lord Godo's daughter, the little Kisaragi Yuffie.”

 

“Uh huh.” Cloud nodded as he waited for change. Tifa leaned over his shoulder as he lifted the bag off the counter.

 

“Yuffie's a princess? All that time she was singing when she was drunk, I thought she was, well, drunk!”

 

Cloud was baffled now. “Yuffie got drunk? When was this? How did I miss it?”

 

Barret thumped him on the back, grinning. “You was passed out drunk yourself, Spike.”

 

“Hmm.” The blond blinked. “Okay. So Yuffie's royalty. Now what?”

 

Cid scratched the scruff on his chin. Maybe it was time for a shave. “I say we go find this Godo fella and ask him where the hell his little girl is.”

 

“You can't just walk up to a king and ask him where his daughter is!” Barret protested. “Besides, we don't even know if his Yuffie is our Yuffie or if our Yuffie even is a Yuffie. Our Yuffie's a thief. She could be a damn liar too.”

 

Cloud sighed. “We might as well try. We don't have any other leads.” He walked past the others to find someone who could give him directions, someone who might not try to get his cash for the trouble.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

“So,” Mother began, “you think you're in love.”

 

“Well, love is said to hurt and I certainly hurt enough,” Sephiroth grumbled. He had rolled and rolled and rolled downhill until a very large tree got in his way. Now he was stuck in a very uncomfortable position, with splinters and rocks working their way into his skin and his beloved sword lying just out of reach. Looking at things upside down was not helping matters. He considered his next move.

 

It took a little bending and stretching to get his legs down to the ground. Then there was some more work with aching muscles to uncurl himself without snapping his neck. He put a hand on the blistered tree trunk to pull himself up.

 

“You made quite an impact there.”

 

Sephiroth grunted. His clothes were covered in dirt, his hair was filthy and he was sore all over. And he was in love. Things could not possible get worse. He looked up at the trees. “How did I get this way?”

 

“You tripped and rolled down a mountain, Sephiroth.”

 

The soldier slammed his head into the tree trunk.

 

“Son, don't do that. You'll get splinters.”

 

Sephiroth crumpled to the ground. “What am I going to do now, Mother?” He felt her sigh in his head.

 

“Why are you asking me? You were the one claiming to have a plan all along.”

 

The man turned his face up again and closed his eyes against the filtered light. “I had a plan. This wasn't in it.” He sat still, unable to think for a long time. A cloud passed over the sun and left him in a deeper shadow. He opened his eyes slowly. He had to get up.

 

“Ah, good. You're moving.” Mother actually sounded relieved. “I thought you were going to sit there moping all day. I'm glad you're taking action again.”

 

“Actually,” Sephiroth looked down at the depression he had left behind in the soft earth. “I got up because I was sitting on a pine cone.” He took a deep breath and moved to retrieve the Masamune. Mother was right. He could not sit down forever. If he cut through the forest he would be able to skirt the edge of the city and find somewhere quiet to wait. For Aeris.

 

He was starting to get a headache. “This is terrible.” He half-heartedly pushed a low-hanging branch out of the way. It flapped back and hit him in the face. He sighed. “Love makes you suffer all kinds of indignities. I suppose all this is love in action.”

 

Mother was cool in his mind. “I wouldn't know. It's a human affliction.”

 

Human. Sephiroth considered that for a moment, but quickly brushed it aside. He needed to decide where he stood on this. He sorted through the confusion and the shame to squeeze his hurting brain for everything he had ever heard about the nature of the feeling.

 

“Love makes you stupid. Have I been stupid, Mother?”

 

Mother writhed a little. “How would you define `stupid', exactly?”

 

“Oh Gods, that's a yes.” Sephiroth rubbed his temples. “Next I'll be composing sonnets and writing love notes and showing up at her doorstep with flowers!”

 

“You've already done most of that, Sephiroth.”

 

“But it was just a tactic to get her into the sack!” Sephiroth wailed. “It wasn't supposed to turn into this! When did it happen?”

 

“Why are you asking me? I don't know.” Mother spun. “I did warn you though. That girl is dangerous.”

 

“Yes, she is,” the swordsman declared, marching swiftly forward. “She's a devious, beguiling, curvy-hipped, full-lipped, enticing little witch and she started hexing me the moment she turned those pretty eyes…oh, no.” Thoughts of Aeris were beginning to have their usual effect. Sephiroth stared down at the fold in his uniform. “You have no sense of decorum, Mister,” he hissed. The offending appendage showed no remorse. Sephiroth growled. Feeling half your age was supposedly a good thing, but at the moment, he could not agree. “Leave it alone and it will go away. Leave it alone and it will go away.”

 

“Are you talking to me?” Mother bristled.

 

“No, no,” Sephiroth tried to cover quickly and pull his thoughts away from his problem. He would just sink through the forest floor if Mother realized what condition he was in.

 

“I've already realized, Sephiroth.”

 

Sephiroth groaned.

 

“Should I go away so you can take care of it?”

 

The man felt like dying from the shame. Fortunately, the rush of blood to his face instantly took care of the problem that led to the embarrassment in the first place. He breathed slowly and tried to compose himself.

 

“How long have I been acting silly over her?”

 

“I'd say from the moment you saw her,” Mother said with a sense of resignation.

 

“You mean it was one of those `at first sight' deals?” Sephiroth stumbled. “No, no, no, no, no, that can't be it. It was strictly about getting her to spread.” Memories crept in of how he kept himself in check when he did not have to, how he said anything and did anything just to make Aeris smile. “Honestly, it was! It used to be.” He was getting desperate now. “This is awful,” he grumbled and picked his way through the trees.

 

“So you've said,” Mother replied dryly. “Several times, in fact.”

 

“It bears repeating.” He straightened up, angered that something like this could have caught him unawares, or worse, that he had actually courted the unnecessary danger. “I'm glad no one really knows I'm around. The tabloids would have a field day with this. `World's Greatest Soldier Ambushed By Cupid'.”

 

“Done in by a cherub. That is embarrassing.”

 

Sephiroth headed for a clearing he spotted a short walk away, reciting headlines all the while. “Popular Times Magazine: General Meets His Match. Tactics Weekly: Sephiroth Downed by Little Pink Dress. The Midgar Sun: Most Eligible Bachelor No Longer Available.”

 

“Is that what has you so bothered?” Mother snorted. “I'm sure they kicked you off that list when you were reported dead.”

 

“You're not helping, Mother.”

 

“I tried to steer you away from things before you got in too deep. What more do you expect me to do?”

 

“Do something!” Sephiroth stepped into the clearing. “Help me!” Then he froze.

 

The clearing was actually someone's well-tended garden. The path was made of very fine, white gravel and an elaborately-worked red bridge crossed a wide, green pond. Small insects rose and sank in the air, hovering over water-lilies. Iridescent wings flashed in sunlight. Tall trees, their green boughs naturally rounded, rose straight and proud over the hills to the side. Small, dark-leaved plants clustered in the shade. Across the bridge was an elegant building in the traditional style, painted in the faded red ochre shade of the Wutai Sephiroth remembered. There was nothing garish about this place. It bore the spirit of old custom and elegance, enduring the test of time.

 

The owner stood just across the pond, staring at Sephiroth. It was a woman, a little older than he was, but good-looking still. She must have taken as much care of her looks over the years as she had of her house and garden. Her hair was tied tightly at the nape of her neck and the end of it trailed nearly to the hem of the delicately patterned blue kimono she wore. Her lip twitched a little and she motioned Sephiroth over the bridge with a move of her head. “I thought I saw a black and white boulder roll down the mountain this morning.”

 

Mother flitted away to let Sephiroth give the situation his full attention. The man scowled. “Ayame, everyone thinks I'm dead. Why don't you look at all surprised to see me?”

 

The woman waited patiently at the end of the bridge for him. “You know I trust no sources but my own, General.” Sephiroth huffed and marched over. He glanced up furtively at the building as he approached the woman.

 

He frowned at the surroundings. “This isn't in the hanamachi, is it? Why did you move out of the entertainment district?”

 

Ayame turned to lead him inside. “I have given up the willow life.”

 

Sephiroth stopped. “You gave up being a geisha? Why?”

 

The woman gave him an odd little smile. “I got tired of having my hair done up with wax all the time.” She sighed. “There is very little room in today's Wutai for the preservation of the old arts. The young people are not interested in long apprenticeship and the clientele…expects more it should.”

 

Sephiroth almost scuffed his boot on the gravel. He had been a little guilty of that himself, at first. Luckily for him, Ayame had inexplicably taken a liking to him and had gone about correcting his gaijin miseducation.

 

“This house is old on the outside but it has been renovated. I have modern conveniences,” the woman offered as she went up the short stairway. “You could take a shower, unless you prefer the bath.”

 

Sephiroth's boots were a heavy counterpoint to the light clacking of Ayame's own footwear. “You would let me?”

 

“You're covered in dirt, General, and you look worn and tired. It is only fitting that I see to the comfort of my danna.”

 

Sephiroth shook his head. “I'm not your danna if you're not a geisha and I'm officially deceased.”

 

Ayame smiled at him with a mockery no geisha would entertain. “Official word does not matter when you are standing right before me, General, and the financial settlement that found its way to me after your reported demise is what allows me to maintain my livelihood as I see fit. You are as much my danna now as you were then.” She slipped her geta off at the door and waited just inside the entrance for Sephiroth while he worked on his boots. “Besides, you just asked me to help you, didn't you?”

 

Sephiroth kept his head down as he yanked his boots off. That situation, that this woman still considered herself bound to him in that manner, was discomfiting. He let his hair fall over his face so she could not read his expression. The woman was gifted, and worse, schooled in arts that did not quite befit one of the flower and willow life. The arrangement he'd had with her had been a convenient one, but Ayame often turned her talents on him, sometimes at his request, sometimes not.

 

He followed her into the house and waited in silence as she scrounged up a light robe and a towel for him. “The bathroom is that way.” She pointed down the hallway. “Leave your clothes outside the door. I'll wipe the dust off the leather for you.”

 

Sephiroth wanted to tell her not to bother, but there was something forbidding in her manner. Now that he had experience to measure it by, he could call her attitude almost motherly. She was a rather bossy nag and capable of causing him pain. He really was starting to miss Aeris' slightly less inflated sense of self. He set his sword down against the wall and went where he was directed.

 

He showered quickly, working the lather roughly over his skin and helping himself to Ayame's shampoo. It was probably one of her own blends. It smelled richly of fruit and herbs. Sephiroth only considered the suitability of such a scent for him after it was too late. His hair was already dripping suds. He rinsed himself even more thoroughly than he had scrubbed and stumbled back up to the center of the house.

 

He found Ayame pouring tea with little ceremony. He shook his head as he knelt before her. Even after all this time, she remembered his preferences. He wondered if it would ever be like that between him and Aeris. He pictured Aeris in a kimono. She would look intriguingly different in one, he decided, especially with a wide silk obi just begging to be undone.

 

Sephiroth shook his head violently. He did not want to think of that girl here and now. Thoughts of her just kept leading him into a bigger mess. He looked around, desperate for anything to take his mind off her. He spotted Wutai's famed Pagoda of the Five Gods through the doorway. Ayame really had moved away from the entertainment district.

 

“Why did you move here?”

 

“It is a convenient location.” The woman barely looked up from the tea. Sephiroth studied her. She looked almost the same as she had when he had known her. Maybe a slightly deeper crinkle in the corner of her eyes...

 

“For observation, you mean.” Sephiroth narrowed his gaze at the woman's head. She had been useful for that, after the war, keeping an eye on things and an ear to the wall.

 

“Of course,” she replied. “Now stop staring at my head and take your tea.” The man took the cup and stared down at it. “It's just tea, General. I've never put anything special in it unless you asked me to first.”

 

Sephiroth raised one eyebrow at her over the rim of the cup and took a tentative sip. “Not counting the first time, of course.”

 

“Obviously.” She lifted her own cup. “But we had not come to our agreement then, so it is of no consequence.”

 

Sephiroth took another sip and stared into his cup for a while. He felt neither hunger nor thirst these days and he hoped everything was still functioning normally. He hated to think about where the tea might go otherwise. He sipped again and glanced at the Pagoda in the distance. “You haven't by chance observed anything… interesting lately, have you?”

 

“Back to business, I see.” Ayame sipped delicately. “The heiress has taken to traveling in search of a way to restore Wutai's glory. She returned from her travels yesterday, considerably more weighed down than when she left. She visited her father and quickly returned to her own dwelling in town. Rumor has it that the argument precipitating that revolved around Lord Godo's plans to get his child to behave in a manner befitting the Lady of Wutai.”

 

Sephiroth snorted. “The day that brat acts like a princess will be the day Hades gets an ice hockey team.” Ayame ignored him, though she did glance at the little finger on his right hand.

 

“The tourist trade has trickled off for the year. I suspect it has something to do with the instability and terrorist uprisings reported in Midgar lately. People don't feel safe traveling. The largest group we've had lately all came bearing weapons. Traveling fighters, it would seem. The Turtle's Paradise is doing very well at any rate. There are a few steady drinkers here on vacation. They all seem to be in the security business, so it's unlikely that they would feel threatened by much out there.” She spared Sephiroth a small glance and continued giving a report hidden in a cocoon of gossip and small talk.

 

“One of Wutai's more persistent visitors is also here, allegedly inspecting business interests. He's picked up a taste for the most bastardized forms of Wutanese decorating and controls the market for such exports to the East continent. It's been good business.” She paused. “Better than his other, lesser-known dealings at any rate, but I have a feeling that his stock is going to plummet soon.”

 

“Hmm.” Sephiroth set his cup down. He remembered the Don, vaguely, and only for the man's disturbing resemblance to the old Shinra president. “Any particular reason why?”

 

Ayame leaned back on her heels and sat up straight. She pulled out a fan from her obi but did not open it. She held it in both hands instead “He got himself into some trouble with the other visitors this morning while you were in the shower. He expressed his intentions to a couple of young women in a completely uncouth manner. His methods have always been questionable, but this time he took things too far and crossed the wrong people. Common sense would dictate that one should not anger people who walk around openly armed. The associates of both women followed him up Mt. DaChao to sort things out.”

 

The soldier glanced outside to judge the time from the shadows. “Your sources work quickly, Ayame.”

 

“Good ones should.”

 

Sephiroth exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. It was comfortable here. The tea felt good and warm inside him. The yukata he wore was a change from the heavy armor and leather he wore constantly now. He felt exposed without the weight on him. He wondered what Aeris would think of him in Wutanese garments. “Where are my clothes?”

 

“In the room next over. I cleaned them the best I could under such short notice.”

 

Sephiroth nodded, then added a quiet `thank you' as an afterthought. She accepted his gratitude gracefully. She did not try to fill the space that followed with any kind of conversation at all. She recognized the man's contemplative expression. He was distressed about something. She did not know what it was, but she knew well enough that inane chatter would only aggravate him. She had other ways to calm him down.

 

Sephiroth rose after a few quiet minutes. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ayame, and your silence.” The woman nodded, knowing that he referred to the larger silence that was part of their agreement. No one would know he had been here.

 

There was a tension in his shoulders. His brows were furrowed down just a little and he stood staring at his sword for a bit longer than necessary. Something was definitely bothering him. Ayame was well-trained in ferreting out secrets. At the very least, she had yet to find out where he had disappeared to and why he had returned. The General required an oblique approach, a distraction, or something to put him at ease. She stood.

 

“Is there anything else you require of me, General?”

 

“No.” Sephiroth glanced back at the woman and had to turn right around to look again. He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide.

 

The various sashes to Ayame's kimono lay in a heap on the floor. With nothing to hold the excess up, the woman's robe hung to it's full length. The hem pooled on the straw mats. The folds almost invited the parting gesture that Ayame was clearly welcoming.

 

Sephiroth shook his head a little wildly. He had not come for this. It was his privilege as the woman's danna, it was true, and he had rarely hesitated before, but things were different now. What Ayame offered was only release, part of their convenient arrangement. It had never been anything else between them and something in him would not settle for that now. “No,” he said, more firmly than he had at first, then he turned away. “I do not require anything of that nature from you, Ayame.”

 

There was a silence behind him, then a soft gasp. “Great Leviathan,” the woman whispered. “There's someone else, isn't there?”

 

Sephiroth whirled around. Ayame had not moved, but she was now as surprised as he. Sephiroth composed himself, upset at his open reaction. The woman had always been too good at reading a person. Their close association had given her as much information about him as she had given him about other things.

 

She smirked at him. “Imagine that. The reclusive General has actually found another.”

 

Sephiroth huffed. “Jealous?”

 

Ayame shook her head. “Why should I be? I'm not your wife. I'm just wondering what it is you're getting out of this other one, besides the obvious.”

 

The soldier frowned. It sounded so dirty when put that way. “It's not like that,” he said dourly.

 

The former geisha rose an eyebrow at him. “This one's all about the entertainment then? That's oddly impractical of you. I suppose there's less danger in it now that you're officially dead.”

 

Sephiroth glared at the woman. He would not stand for her insinuations about what he had with Aeris. Ayame glanced up at the open anger on his face and knew she was on dangerous ground. She wrapped her arms around her waist to remove the offending openness of her robes from the equation.

 

The swordsman relaxed once the threat of impending nudity was gone. It was a simple misunderstanding, that was all, blown out of proportion. He stared out the doorway again. Aeris was somewhere out there in the city, maybe halfway up Mt. DaChao. He started as he recalled the details of Ayame's report. What if Aeris had been one of the Don's unfortunate targets? He sent himself flying right into the puppet's head and was relieved to find that not only was the entire mess taken care of, but that it was the Kisaragi brat that Corneo had gone after. It seemed there was something like justice in the world after all.

 

Ayame was watching him closely when he returned to himself. “Where did you go?”

 

“I was just checking up on `the other', if you must know.” The words did not come out quite as coldly as he would have liked. He was too relieved and amused for it. “She's fine.”

 

The former geisha studied the small smile that crept onto the General's face. This was certainly unusual. “Oh my.” She covered her mouth with one hand. “You're in love.”

 

Sephiroth stared at the woman. “How did you…”

 

“A woman knows these things.” Ayame smiled at him, warmly this time. “You could have just said it was like that earlier. It changes everything. I'm happy for you.” Sephiroth sighed and looked away. He was usually better than this at keeping his secrets. He didn't know what he would do if she decided to have one of those fine feminine bouts of romanticism.

 

“What are you happy for?” he said bitterly. “Being in love never did you much good.”

 

The woman sighed wistfully. “That is often the case when love is unrequited. Not all loves are meant to be fairytales.” She drew herself away from that line of thought. “Well, I've had years to get used to my situation and in any case, we are talking about yours.”

 

“We are?” Sephiroth lifted an eyebrow in challenge, trying to worm his way out of this.

 

“We are,” Ayame declared simply.

 

The swordsman snorted. “You can do the talking. I'm not saying anything.”

 

“Of course you aren't.” Ayame waved his anger off with a flick of her fan. She had ways of drawing things out. One only had to aggravate the man just the right amount. “It's a wonderful thing though, isn't it? When's the wedding?”

 

Sephiroth sputtered, just as she had hoped he would. “Wedding? What wedding? There's no wedding, woman!”

 

Ayame feigned shock. “Why not? Haven't you proposed yet?”

 

“Of course not!” Sephiroth stormed off to the far corner of the room. “It's much too soon for that.”

 

The former geisha hid her expression behind her fan. So it was a young relationship. “You haven't gotten around to discussing such things with her?”

 

Sephiroth looked firmly away and cleared his throat. “We haven't really… discussed much lately.”

 

A hot and heavy relationship. “Have you even thought about it?”

 

“It crossed my mind once.” Sephiroth stared up at the ceiling. “I didn't mention it to her,” he said quietly.

 

Ayame took a small step towards the man and directed her question to his turned back. “Are you planning to?”

 

The man thought hard. “I don't know.”

 

“Does she know of your feelings?”

 

“I'm not sure.”

 

Ayame narrowed her eyes at him. “You're not sure what to do about any of it, are you?” she asked. Sephiroth shook his head. “Hm,” Ayame nodded as if she understood. “Don't let the chance slip by you, General. This situation calls for bravery as much as any battle would.”

 

Sephiroth turned around slowly. He appeared to be considering it. He closed his eyes. “I never expected it to happen.”

 

“No one does,” Ayame said gently. She knelt down and retrieved her sashes and fan. “Could you please help me retie my obi? If you remember how, that is.”

 

“I remember.” Sephiroth stood behind the woman to help her with the wrapping. He had to run through the procedure quickly in his mind to be certain he knew what he was doing. Together they made a neat enough job of it, though it took quite a while.

 

“Is she pretty?” Ayame asked quietly, turning around.

 

“She's beautiful,” Sephiroth answered instantly. Ayame flicked her fan open dangerously close to his face and held it there. She blinked coolly up at him.

 

“I'm going to let that one slide, General, because you're in love and it's expected that you'll be a bit stupid, but no woman ever wants an honest answer to that particular question.”

 

Sephiroth recalled one of the minor reasons he had avoided more normal romantic entanglements before. Women had too many strange rules. He eyed the edge of the fan, knowing he had just escaped the worst paper cut of his life.

 

“Come,” Ayame removed the fan and directed him with a tilt of her head. “Your clothes are this way.”

 

She led him past paper-screened walls and delicate sliding doors into a smaller, cluttered room. Her musical instruments were neatly stowed away on one side. There were shelves of books, a large chest with many drawers and a small writing desk with loose, textured paper, possibly handmade, lying all around it. There were framed pictures as well as scrolls on the walls. His clothes hung airing near the window. Ayame took them down and held them out for him. Sephiroth took his coat and pants and clutched them to his chest. He looked around uncomfortably.

 

“You might as well change here, General. It's nothing I haven't seen before.”

 

The swordsman stared blankly.

 

“Fine, I won't look.” The woman busied herself setting her desk and papers in order.

 

The man snorted, but he turned his back towards her before he loosened the robe. It was true that he had nothing to hide from the woman, but the thought of her watching unsettled him somehow. His naked body was not part of her business anymore. He stared at the wall in front of him while he dressed.

 

There were neatly framed pictures hanging all around, mostly of Ayame's fellow geisha or maiko, the apprentices who must have been in her charge at one time or another. Most people only ever saw geisha at their elegant best but these pictures were somewhat different. The hair and makeup was mostly as expected but the smiles were perhaps a bit broader than the women normally allowed. There was little sense of formal arrangement in those relaxed poses. Ayame must have taken those pictures herself at some stolen time when the women were not entertaining at a teahouse. She was a sneaky devil with her camera, Sephiroth recalled as he buckled his belt.

 

He wandered slowly around the periphery of the room. There were images of sakura and sunset views from Mt. DaChao. The subjects of amateurs, really, but with a hint of an eye trained for pertinent detail. There were a few men in some of the photos, most likely guests at the teahouses. None of them dominated the picture. They were instead some distance away, lending credence to Sephiroth's belief that Ayame had been operating on the sly. He moved to take a look at the next photograph. He only had time to discern the outline of a dark-haired man before Ayame stepped up and quickly slipped the frame off the wall.

 

“Not this one, General,” she said breathlessly, clutching the frame to her chest.

 

Sephiroth frowned down at her. “Why not?”

 

The woman drew herself up straight. “You have your secrets. I have mine.”

 

The man narrowed his eyes at her, but conceded with a small nod. There were things Ayame never would tell him, just as there were things he would not tell her. He wished he was as good at inferring possibilities from a person's posture and turn of phrase, but his own expertise at ferreting out information involved dark rooms and very bright lights. And maybe one or two instruments of torture. He sighed and turned away, pretending to continue his circuit of the room while he worked on his buckles. His attention remained on the woman.

 

Ayame stared down at the picture she held for a while then tucked the slender frame deep into her obi.. Sephiroth hid a frown behind his thick fall of hair. The look on her face was subtle, but familiar. The swordsman had seen it fairly often on his men's faces when they read letters from home during the war. Or on his Second-in-Command's face when the pest began to drift on about his girl. Or on Ayame herself on the odd occasion they stumbled onto a certain subject. It was a wistfulness and dreaminess and a vapidity that when combined, formed an expression that the former General had once heard aptly described as the `sick puppy look'.

 

Love was downright sickening. Sephiroth huffed quietly and turned back to the wall, hoping to the high skies above that he had never had that expression on his face. It was ridiculous.

 

He fastened the last buckle on his coat and looked up, frowning. There was not enough in the room to distract him. He could only stand so many pictures of geisha and they were everywhere. Geisha in blue, geisha in green, geisha in pink. That last one made remnants of the early morning's lightness flutter inside him. He squashed it down just as quickly. He refused to think about it. He refused to think about Aeris and the way he felt with her. And he absolutely refused to think about the coming night. He scouted around for another color.

 

There was one picture of a geisha in black, white and grey, tucked in near the edge of the bookcase. Sephiroth walked closer, hoping that the somber tones would settle him. What he saw convinced him, irrevocably, that today was just not his day.

 

“Woman, why do you still have this thing?” He spun around, fanning the spark of outrage in the hope that it would burn away the abominable fluffiness.

 

“Oh, that?” Ayame tilted her head and stepped closer to observe the picture. “I couldn't very well throw it out for anyone to find and I couldn't bear to destroy it.” She traced the edge lightly with one finger. “It's one of the best pictures I've ever taken.”

 

Sephiroth snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. “I bet you just keep it around to congratulate yourself on how sneaky you are.”

 

“That too.” Ayame smirked. “But even you have to admit you look handsome in it.” Sephiroth huffed again and childishly turned his back on the woman. The geisha shook her head at him. “Honestly, General, it's not as if I caught you naked on a bear-skin rug.”

 

“That would be infinitely less embarrassing.” All Ayame would have had to do to sneak a picture of him in the buff was pull the sheet aside while he slept. It would have been a simple prank, easily accomplished and easily brushed off. But easy wasn't good enough for a woman trained to intrigue. No, the woman had contrived some manner to get him into full Wutai regalia. At least the kimono had been of a masculine design, dark grey, with a soft sheen and an elaborate dragon embroidered in black. Sephiroth remembered that he had actually felt pleased with the whole thing when Ayame finished dressing him in it. It wasn't the clothing that angered him at all.

 

It was the bloody parasol she had thrust into his hands immediately afterwards. That and the unexpected blinding flash of the old camera. Sephiroth cursed the day he considered getting her a modern sort of gift. Now, hung on her wall for her perpetual viewing pleasure, was proof that the world's greatest soldier could be as immature and happy-go-lucky as anyone else.

 

Ayame began to laugh quietly, with her hand over her mouth in Wutai's polite fashion. “General, there's nothing embarrassing about a smile.” She walked around to meet his face and he stubbornly turned away again. If he had known that the woman was going to be so quick with the camera, he would have crushed that moment of childlike surprise and wonder. He would have asked for his sword instead. He would not have twirled the goddamn parasol while grinning like a blazing fool.

 

The woman shook her head at him and walked away to give him his space. She stared up at the ceiling and chose her words carefully. Aggravating the General was tricky business. Going too far was a good way to get intimately acquainted with a blade.

 

“Why don't you like being happy, General?” A soft wind blew in a few light petals through the open window and sent the loose leaves of paper on the writing desk flying again. Ayame knelt gracefully to pick them up, noting the silence from the man behind her. “Why do you make such an effort to be angry with anything that could brighten your day?” She heard him take a heavy breath.

 

“Being happy doesn't do anyone any good.”

 

Ayame rose and set a stone paperweight down to keep her pages from flying away again. “How would you know when you never let yourself be happy long enough to find out?”

 

Sephiroth answered only with a sigh. He wrapped his arms tight around himself. The confusion and uncertainty threatened to close in again and undo all the relaxation the hot shower had afforded him. “What good would it bring me, Ayame?” His voice was soft now and he said her name with something almost like tenderness, as he had been wont to do on some still, summer nights. “The disappointment afterwards is not worth the time spent being a fool.”

 

“That's not always so, General.” Ayame stepped closer. She reached out gently and carefully set her hand on his arm. “If you seize it boldly and enjoy it for what it is, joy can see you through any disappointments afterwards. Love can too.”

 

Sephiroth wrenched his arm out from her grasp and glared down at her. “Did your amazing unrequited love see you through anything?”

 

The woman flinched at his bitter tone. She drew her hand back and pressed it against her waist, where a picture lay hidden. She stared down at the floor for a moment, but then raised fierce eyes to the man she still called her danna. “Yes. Yes, it did.” She turned away and stared out the window at something far in the distance. There was a hard edge to her voice. “It kept me alive during the war, in more ways than one. It kept me hoping and trying for something better than the blood and destruction all around me, even when what I wanted was something I could not have.” She sighed heavily. This was the one thing she did not care to speak of, not to her General, not to anyone. The first ardent, forbidden desire of the girl she had been was no one's business but her own. It did not really hurt, not anymore, but love could be embarrassing, especially when it involved a grown woman who still held her first blush close to her heart, after all these years.

 

The swordsman felt a weak urge to make some derisive remark, but it faded quickly. He understood this feeling now, this nervous energy that came with the thing called love. It was confusing and frustrating. It inspired awe and just a little of the unpleasant tingling in his veins and the hollow feeling inside him that he would not call `fear' just yet. “What did you do?” The woman turned to meet his gaze. Sephiroth swallowed. “When you first realized…” He hesitated, then tried again. “What did you do?”

 

“I told him, of course.” Ayame kept both arms wrapped around her middle. “I was never the most well-behaved maiko.”

 

“How did you do it?” Sephiroth's voice rasped. He needed to know how to do this, if he was going to do it at all.

 

“I found a way to get him alone for a moment and just blurted it all out. I even offered to give up the geisha life for him, if he would have me,” the woman replied in a matter-of-fact way. Sephiroth blanched. Ayame caught the look. “I was young,” she offered by way of excuse. “No restraint.”

 

“Do you think I should tell her, then?” Sephiroth clasped his hands behind his back so that the woman would not see his fingers fidgeting.

 

“I don't recommend suffering in eternal silence, General, and keeping it to yourself when there's very little need to do so is indeed suffering.” Ayame tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I suppose you know her well enough to gauge how she will take your words.”

 

The swordsman mulled over the possibilities. He had wanted Aeris to fall into his arms and she had. But somehow, she had also wormed her way into his tiny, hidden, ice-hardened heart. She melted the frost away just by being there. Was it fair to expect her to feel the same way about him when he had only gone into this in the first place for the express purpose of using her? What would she do if he told her the truth of the whole matter? He ran his tongue along the inside of his lip. She might listen attentively till the end, but she could just as likely take another swing at him. He had no idea what to expect. He looked at the geisha for guidance. She had experience with this. “How did yours take it?”

 

Ayame was silent, considering whether she should say anything or not. The cold, selfish young man the General had been would have thrown her razor-edged emotion in her face if she had ever given him opportunity to seize them, but the man standing before her looked like he might understand. “He let me down gently. He does not love me, but he was still kind.”

 

“What did he say?” Sephiroth was well acquainted with Ayame's reluctance to speak about the matter, but she was finally talking for once and he needed to know. He needed to know as much about this kind of situation as possible before he threw himself into the fray.

 

“Only that he was not there for me, not like that.” Ayame slipped her fan out of her belt and tapped it slowly against her cheek. “It could have been worse. He remained my friend and rejection in love is hardly the worst tragedy out there, even if it seems like it at the time.” She touched a spot on her forehead, then let her hand fall quickly as she glanced out the window again. “I live my life as he taught me,” she murmured, “and it's been good.”

 

Sephiroth frowned. “Does not love you, you said? Does not love you?”

 

Ayame spun around, alarmed. She stared at the general with wide, dark eyes, but soon regained her composure. “Well, General, you've finally picked up a few tricks of my trade.”

 

Sephiroth could not stop the sly beginnings of a grin from crossing his face. He scanned his faded mental lists for all prominent Wutai survivors of the war. “Do I know him?”

 

The woman almost snickered. “Not likely, and don't waste your time trying to figure it out. I'd bet you're not even thinking in the right direction to come up with the answer. Besides, you have other things to consider.”

 

Sephiroth nodded. She was right. Distracting himself from the problem was not going to make it go away. He had this thing, this crazy love inside him and he needed to share it openly with the one who inspired it before he imploded. Perhaps it had been a good thing he had fallen down the mountain. He had ended up here and Ayame was much more helpful than Mother.

 

Still, though he now had a vague idea of what he needed to do, he was not too sure how to go about it. Ayame's bold babbling method probably was not the best way to go. And there were his nerves to consider. His fingers did not want to stop twitching and there was a tight knot inside where his heart was just shy of racing. Sephiroth was not pleased with the anxiety, but he was not surprised by it either. He had been bred and raised for soldiering and he simply was not much good at tackling problems that one could not take a sword to. He sighed heavily.

 

“Something wrong, General?”

 

Sephiroth gave just the slightest nod of his head. “I don't know… I'm not sure how to…say it.”

 

“Ah, I see,” Ayame nodded. “That's a fairly common problem in these cases and I'm afraid there is no one easy solution.” Sephiroth's face fell a little. Ayame perked up. “Don't worry, General. There are ways to let your feelings be known without any embarrassing confessions. I would hope you've done a few of them already, given the nature of your relationship.”

 

Sephiroth almost blushed. “What should I do?”

 

The woman tapped her closed fan in her palm as she considered. “Small gifts. Flowers, chocolates, the common courting items.”

 

The swordsman looked up. “I gave her flowers.” Perhaps there was hope after all.

 

“Good.” Ayame nodded firmly. “Did you take her out to dinner?”

 

“I burned it.”

 

“You tried to cook? Well, it's a nice gesture at any rate. You could try your hand at a letter. It's still words but if you can't bring yourself to say it in person, an elegantly scripted letter can work wonders.” She glanced at her writing desk. “I could help you with that, if you want me to.”

 

Sephiroth shook his head. “I wrote her something once already.”

 

The woman looked a bit impressed. “Kind words and doing what she wants to do?” Sephiroth nodded and almost smiled. He had done it for something other than love, but he had done it all the same.

 

“Are you pleasing her in bed?”

 

Sephiroth sputtered. “What are you asking that for, woman?”

 

“It's a valid question,” Ayame insisted. “If you care for her, you should take care of her any way she'll let you. I'd hate to think all that time I spent showing you how to think of something other than your own pleasure was wasted.”

 

Sephiroth did blush faintly then. He turned aside slightly and let his hair fall over his face to hide it. “There haven't been any… complaints.”

 

Ayame smirked. “Any glowing reviews?”

 

“Well, no.” Sephiroth stared down at his bare feet. “She doesn't have anything to compare it to, I suppose.”

 

“You were her first?” The woman was incredulous. “I hope you made as close to perfect for her as you could. That's a very big moment in a girl's life, even for one who isn't a geisha.”

 

Part of Sephiroth wanted to run through the paper screens and out of the house. Something almost like guilt kept him rooted to the floor. “I waited until things were right enough, I suppose. I'm not too sure what she thought of it though. We haven't really talked about it much.”

 

“You don't seem to do a lot of talking with this one,” Ayame said, shaking her head. Sephiroth did not know what to make of it. Mother claimed he talked too much. Ayame claimed he talked too little. Females were strange creatures.

 

Ayame flicked her fan open and began twirling her wrist about in a simple exercise from a common geisha dance. “Do you think it was special enough?”

 

Sephiroth shrugged. “I suppose so. It was a nice, big room. Very private.” The woman nodded in approval.

 

“Was she willing?”

 

Sephiroth nodded and wondered why his throat was so dry.

 

Ayame hid a sly smile behind her fan. “Was there… romantic lighting?”

 

Sephiroth looked askance as he searched his memory. “Firelight.”

 

“Mmm, nice. Did you strew rose petals on the bed?”

 

Green eyes opened wide. “No.”

 

Ayame brushed her fan against her cheek. “Why didn't you?”

 

“I didn't have any roses.”

 

Ayame laughed. “Relax, General, I'm only teasing. Those ridiculous romantic touches girls dream of aren't really necessary.” She folded up her fan and tucked it away. “So long as you were careful for her sake and treated her well the next morning.”

 

Sephiroth's breath caught and he shuffled backwards. He forced himself to stop before Ayame saw his movement, but it was too late.

 

“General,” she began calmly, “why are you fidgeting so nervously?”

 

Now Sephiroth's heart really did begin to race. “I… I left before she woke up.” Before he knew it, the fan was back out and flicking open with a dangerous rush of air. “Ayame, before you do anything, you should know that she already hit me for that! Twice!”

 

The fan froze and Ayame studied the man. “Did she now?”

 

Sephiroth nodded rapidly. “Drew blood too.”

 

“Really,” Ayame looked impressed. She folded up the fan and stuck it into her sleeve. Her expression grew thoughtful. “She sounds like quite a fiery one. She'd need to be to put up with you.” She smiled at the General. “Will you be seeing her again soon?”

 

“Tonight, I hope.” Sephiroth relaxed.

 

“Good. What are you taking her?”

 

He was confused again. “Taking her?”

 

Ayame got that strange expression common to females who were exasperated with their menfolk. “Yes, Sephiroth. You don't stop the courting gestures just because you've gotten her to take you in. Not if you want her to keep you around.”

 

Sephiroth sniffed. “Well, that's shallow, if women are expecting compensation.” He drew himself up and declared with mock arrogance, “I believe the pleasure of my company should be enough!”

 

Ayame laughed. “Honestly, General, you should take her a gift now and then. Not as a bribe or payment. Nothing as crass as that. It's just that some women appreciate little gestures that show you are thinking of them when they are not near. You do think of her when she's not around, don't you?”

 

“All the time.” Sephiroth sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I can't think of anything else.”

 

The geisha's smile for him was gentle this time. “I understand.”

 

**************************

 

AN: I had fun writing this, even if it was a headache trying to make Sephiroth believably confuffled in love, avoid OC pitfalls, work subplots in and handle all kinds of hard labor and deadlines in real life. I've got a masochistic touch, I guess. I like that kind of pain. ;P Much thanks to beta, Noacat, for helping me as much as she could. If you have any beef with this chapter, please let me know.