Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Path of Seduction ❯ Chapter Twenty-Four ( Chapter 24 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the property of Square Enix. No profit is made from this work. All original characters and elements are my own.

Path of Seduction

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Ornaments and jewelry are common courting gifts on the Continents, aren't they?” Ayame pulled firmly on a drawer and took a look inside. “You can have any of these,” she said to the man behind her. “Since I am no longer actively in the flower life, I have very little use for them. At any rate these would suit a younger woman better.”

Sephiroth hunched forward and studied the neat array of hair ornaments. Skillfully crafted silk flowers piled up so thick he could hardly see the pins and combs they were attached to. Long strands of silken buds flowed around the drawer. Some ornaments even had little chimes that would make music in the breeze. Sephiroth swallowed. He could not understand women's hair ornaments for the life of him. Wash and brush, that was all anyone needed as far as he could see.

Ayame pulled one broad comb out and brushed the white silk petals lightly with one hand. “They're all quite clean. Don't worry about that. This one would look good with a longer hairstyle.” She turned around and reached up to set it in Sephiroth's hair. The General jumped back. Nobody was putting that frippery on him.

“What do you think you're doing?” he barked. Ayame barely even flinched, which annoyed him no end.

“I just want to make sure it would look good in your lady's hair.”

Sephiroth scowled and edged away a little bit more. “I never said she had long hair.”

The woman raised her eyebrows ever so slightly at him. “Is it short?”

The swordsman turned his face away, almost burying his mouth in his shoulder. “No.”

Ayame nodded to herself and turned back to the hair ornaments. She set the comb back down and studied the others. “That one suits you. The leaves go well with your eyes but I doubt your lady has your particular coloring.”

“She has green eyes,” Sephiroth protested.

“Really.” Ayame looked vaguely intrigued. “You two must make a well-matched pair.”

The swordsmen growled quietly. “Does matching really matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Ayame waved him off. “You can't give the girl something that doesn't look good on her.”

Sephiroth exhaled and hunched down just a little bit further. He really did not understand women's hair ornaments. Ayame completely ignored his discomfort.

“What color hair does she have?”

“Brown,” Sephiroth mumbled.

“Brown,” Ayame repeated for confirmation and opened another drawer to look for something more suitable.

“Brown,” Sephiroth murmured again. “Not too dark. Not too light either. A medium kind of brown, with a touch of honey. The fine strands look almost golden sometimes. In the right light they glow like a halo around her.”

Ayame glanced up for a moment. “Oh, Kami-sama,” she whispered lowly. She had heard a great deal of poetry in her life, some of it fine, some of it passable and much of it just plain awful. She knew lovesick tripe when she heard it. One thing was becoming very clear: the General had it bad.

She quickly pushed the thought from her mind and resumed her search for something that would make a decent token of affection. “How about these?” She turned around and proffered a pair of hair pins with light yellow blossoms and even a silk butterfly among the buds.

Sephiroth stared at the things. He supposed they were nice enough. He frowned a little, uncertain. “I'm not sure how she feels about wearing yellow.”

Ayame sighed. She had no idea how the man could be so smitten and yet so ignorant about the very one he was supposed to love. It crossed her mind that something was not quite right here, but if it made her sour young General happy, she would do her best to smooth things along. “What color does she like?”

The man appeared to think for a moment. “Pink.”

The geisha stared. “General,” she began, “you loathe pink.”

Sephiroth shrugged a little and looked away almost shyly. “I like it on her.”

Ayame kept staring. “General,” she said slowly, “I don't know where you've been or what you've been doing these past five years, but it's obvious that at some point you must have taken a very hard blow to the head.”

Sephiroth nodded. “It's possible,” he admitted. “I don't remember much.” He had been wondering why his head was such a mess lately.

The woman turned back to the drawers of ornaments. “So, pink, then?” She offered up a comb with a spray of silk chrysanthemums in the perfect shade of pink. Sephiroth leaned in to study it carefully. It was pretty, he supposed, but the petals were too stiff and unyielding. There was no hint of scent and the texture would be all wrong. Aeris liked real flowers. That was no guarantee that she would like silk ones. Sephiroth felt his heart thud. What if she loved real flowers so much that she absolutely hated fake ones? She might stab him with the fancy hair pins for being so stupid. He almost twitched. Why hadn't he thought to find these things out?

“I… I'm not sure.” He shook his head and straightened up. “She likes real flowers. I don't know how she feels about the artificial kind. I don't know if she really cares for elaborate hair ornaments either.”

Ayame sighed again. The man was drawing on her very last reserves of patience. “First you don't see why you should give her a little gift at all and now you can't find anything good enough.” She shut the drawer and looked out the window. “I don't have anything in the way of real flowers.” Most of the plants in her carefully tended garden were not known for blossoms. They served Ayame's purposes well enough though, with the right drying and grinding methods. Sephiroth was careful never to touch a one of the little shrubs if he could help it, just in case.

The woman turned sharply away from her dark garden. “How about a nice hair ribbon? I have some lovely woven silks, if you're interested.”

Sephiroth nodded and followed Ayame to a smaller chest of drawers in the corner of her dressing room. He knelt beside her and inspected everything he was shown with a critical eye. The first was too dark, the second too heavily embroidered. The third was too pink and the fourth not pink enough. One was too yellow and another was too green. Short lengths of cloth wrapped in paper for protection piled up all around them. Ayame was on the verge of giving up. She had never seen the General, or any man for that matter, being so fussy.

“What more could you possibly want?” she asked, holding up a concoction in pale pink and green. “Does your lady really have such particular taste?” She could have slapped herself. She knew the answer before she finished asking the question.

“I don't know.” Sephiroth leaned back on his heels and rubbed the back of his hand. “She's not really so picky, I suppose.”

Ayame folded the material and set it aside wearily. “Then why, in Leviathan's name, are you being so choosy on her behalf?”

The man sighed. “I don't know.” Ayame considered strangling him with a ribbon but decided that it would take far too much effort. Sephiroth looked up and caught her eye. “I just want her to like it. Really, really like it.” His eyes drifted away in the direction of the gardens. “I want to see her smile. There's a way her entire face just lights up when she's happy. I want that for her.”

Ayame hid a satisfied smile of her own. This was what she had wanted to see. Flowers and notes and even skillful lovemaking were only the bare trappings of a relationship, no true indicator of a depth of feeling. That the General thought first of the girl's happiness, despite his bumbling ignorance, was a good sign.

Sephiroth let out a deep breath. “I'm really far gone, aren't I?”

Ayame tried hard not to smirk at him. “Have you let her weave daisy chains into your hair yet?”

“No.”

“Then it's not so bad.”

Sephiroth looked relieved. He was quiet as he helped Ayame pack the ribbons and sashes away. There seemed to be a trick to folding them exactly the way she liked because she inspected each one he handed her and made minor adjustments to it. He felt almost like a raw cadet again and had to comfort himself with the thought that even if he could not fold silk, he could still make a bed with sheets so tight a two-gil coin would bounce to the ceiling.

They had almost finished when a light chiming sound rang through the house. Ayame rose quickly. “Stay in here, General. There's someone at the door.” She smoothed her kimono and patted down her hair. Appearances mattered for one such as her.

“You have a doorbell?” Sephiroth asked.

“Hush,” Ayame warned. Then she headed past the sliding screen with an air of perfect calm.

Sephiroth placed the final silk sash back into the chest and smoothed the protective paper wrapping over it. Ayame's voice came through the thin walls, faint and delicate as a geisha's should be. Sephiroth glanced around. Ayame had told him to stay in the room and be quiet. She never said not to listen. He edged his way over to the wall and leaned in closer.

“The Lord thanks you for your company,” a strange voice said in the Wutai tongue. “He asks your pardon that all he offers is this unworthy token.”

“A brief ray brightens the fading iris in the shadowed glade. The sun knows not the extent of its own warmth.” Ayame replied with all the grace and formality of a refined lady. “Our Lord Godo's favor is never unworthy.”

Sephiroth twitched so hard he nearly broke through the screen.

When Ayame returned bearing a small, cloth-bound package, she found him slack-jawed and wide-eyed in the corner and knew instantly that he had been eavesdropping. She set the box down and scowled at him. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You're sleeping with Godo?” Sephiroth choked out.

“Of course not, General. Don't be ridiculous.” Ayame drew her fan out and flicked it sharply open. “I'm still making him work for it.”

Sephiroth sat up and tried to compose himself. It had been a rough morning, but still, the way he was letting things get ahead of him was well past embarrassing. “Why him, though?”

The woman barely looked up from behind the fan. “Does my officially deceased danna wish me to stop entertaining him?” She lifted her eyes above the edge of the fan and met her General's flustered gaze with an open, unchallenging inquiry. There was no confrontation here, only fact. Her General was, to most people, dead, and though she kept up the charade for his sake she was an independent woman now. There was nothing but their old familiarity to bind them and he had no right to make demands of her time.

The realization was a little embarrassing, but Sephiroth was relieved as well. He had no wish to take on the responsibility of a danna again. It was good this way. Ayame was content and more than capable of handling herself. He was free from any personal sense of obligation towards her, free to pursue… other interests. They had both moved on.

He shook his head slightly in answer to Ayame's question, even though she had already guessed his answer. He straightened himself up and corrected his posture while the woman picked at the knot of her package. “I still don't understand, though. Why him, of all people?”

“Don't tell me you're still holding some old war grudge, General,” Ayame said, holding back laughter. “What's wrong with Lord Godo?”

Sephiroth frowned. “He's so… old.”

Ayame did laugh then. “Honestly, General, he's not that old. He's aged quite well, in men's years. Besides, I'm no budding blossom myself.”

Sephiroth shook his head. “But you're not that much older than I am, Ayame.”

The geisha smiled wryly. “It's different for women, General, especially those who make their living off their charms.”

The swordsman considered that for a moment. “You don't look old, Ayame.”

The smile she gave him for that was small, but bright. “Thank you, General. That is kind of you.” Beneath his bad temper and heartbreaking good looks, her General could almost be a sweet young man. Not that she would ever tell him that. She glanced down at the box she had unwrapped. “Not again,” she groaned.

“What?” Sephiroth's head snapped up.

Ayame picked up the box. “Godo sent me wagashi.” Sephiroth stared blankly. “From the shop next to the apothecary.” She opened the box and checked inside the lid. There was a sheet of paper in there with some very condensed writing. The woman pulled the note out and shut the box. “Good for something, at least,” she murmured. Sephiroth had to wonder at the way her eyes lit up when she said it.

Sephiroth tilted his head and studied the box. He remembered the store in question. It was famous for its traditional sweets, made from ancient, secret recipes and artfully fashioned by hand into the shapes of flowers to suit the season. “That place is still open?”

“It's been open for centuries, General,” Ayame murmured, deeply into reading the note with one hand on her heart.

“I thought you liked those sweets.”

“I do.” The woman tucked the note away in her obi. “I can't keep eating them at the rate Godo sends them though. Not if I want to keep my figure.” She looked speculatively from the box to the seated soldier and graced him with a sugary smile. “Why don't you take these for your lady?” she suggested sweetly.

Sephiroth frowned. “I can't take something that Godo sent for you.”

“Of course you can, General. It would make up for that dinner you burned.” Ayame began wrapping the box back up.

The swordsman eyed the thing warily. “It doesn't seem right. Godo had that sent for you. I can't just pick it up and give to someone else.”

“Yes, you can.” Ayame held the package out. “It's mine to do with as I please and I choose to give it to you to share with your young love.” Sephiroth made no move to take the thing. “Please, General, for Heaven's sake, take it. Godo has a new box sent to me every day and I can't get rid of them fast enough.”

Sephiroth took the box hesitantly. “You really are making him work for it, aren't you?”

“He tries hard.” Ayame slumped down and picked up her fan again. “Truthfully, I would appreciate a little more originality in his approach.” She fluttered the fan quickly and for an instant, Sephiroth saw a faint trace of her age, a slight weariness with what the world offered. He had to wonder what exactly was driving her to keep on her path. He sighed. Whatever Ayame's motivation, it could hardly be some late-coming urge to poison the Kisaragi brat. It was such a shame.

Sephiroth picked half-heartedly at the knot on the package as he considered the possibilities. He did not like the picture that was forming here. Ayame was no longer actively entertaining as a geisha. She was an independent woman living alone, as far as he could tell. She was not getting any younger, as she had pointed out, and she was receiving the attentions of a fairly powerful man. A fairly powerful widowed man. Sephiroth had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Ayame,” he asked faintly, “you're not trying to… to get married, are you?”

The woman arched her eyebrows above the fan. “General, you know I'm not the marrying kind.”

Sephiroth felt the easing of the slight touch of what was almost like jealousy, but still his mouth went just a little dry. He had to remind himself that he was no longer a leader of armies, no longer at war. “That wouldn't stop you if what you were after was worth the cost, would it?”

Ayame lowered the fan to show him the perfectly schooled polite smile behind it. “It might not, but if I really wanted to be the power behind the throne at this late stage of the game, I would not need a marriage to do it.”

Sephiroth saw the unfortunate truth of it. From the looks of things, Godo was besotted enough as it was. Having a mind like Ayame's so close to the seat of power was either a blessing or a curse. The woman had always had her own quiet agenda.

A loud gong sounded in the distance. The soldier and the geisha looked outside. “Hmm, something is actually happening at the Pagoda of the Five Gods,” Ayame said. “About time, too. It's been so long since there were any challengers.”

Sephiroth rose. The Pagoda was too close to Ayame's house for his comfort. “I should go,” he said. “A crowd might gather.” The woman nodded. Sephiroth paused. “Will you be all right?”

Ayame nodded. “I will be perfectly fine, General.” Sephiroth gave her a curt bow and marched towards the main door, intent on getting away as quickly and quietly as possible. The woman caught up with him while he was strapping on a boot.

“General!”

Sephiroth looked up sharply. He did not take well to distractions while he was in a mission frame of mind. Ayame held the cloth package out to him.

“You forgot the sweets.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth's booted foot thumped down on the wooden floor a bit louder than he liked. He took the package from Ayame with another small bow, secured the Masamune and turned to leave. A slight papery rustle at his fingertip made him examine the wrapped box more carefully.

Tucked into the knot of the cloth was a thin, square packet. He unconsciously began reading the label out loud. “Leviathan brand Ultra-ribbed for Her Plea-.” He froze and looked back wildly.

Ayame was trying to hide a wicked little smile behind her fan and doing a very poor job of it. “I didn't want you to run out.”

“Oh, not likely,” Sephiroth said offhandedly. “We haven't been bothering with it before.” Ayame's eyes turned to flint and the soldier realized his mistake too late. The geisha had very particular ideas about some things and this was one of them. Sephiroth clutched the box in front of him like a shield and carefully stepped backward, keeping one eye on the woman's fan.

Ayame closed the fan and held it tight in her fist. “Get out, General, before I throw you out on your reckless behind.” Sephiroth nodded even though the woman could not possibly physically carry out her threat. He hoped she was not too mad with him. She called out to him one more time as he reached the edge of the garden. “Follow the line of cedar trees. It will lead you past the edge of town.”

Sephiroth allowed himself a small breath of relief as he turned to thank her, but she was already gone.

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

Tifa craned her neck to see the top of Wutai's great Pagoda. “I hope Yuffie's doing okay in there.”

“What you worrying `bout, Tifa?” Barret growled. “We got our materia back and that's good enough for me. If that fool girl wants to pick fights with her daddy, it's her business.”

Tifa sighed. “I guess she had her reasons.” Yuffie's obvious love for Wutai had gone a long way in reducing any anger Tifa felt over the young ninja's actions. “I just wish she'd rested a while before entering the Pagoda. She just got pulled down from the cliffside.”

Cloud edged away from the encroaching sunlight. “If she wants to take up a challenge so soon after hanging off a mountain, it's her business.”

Cid snorted. “Yeah, it's not our damn fault if her daddy whoops her ass. If you ask me, it's long overdue.” He stomped out one cigarette and reached up to his goggles to get another. Aeris decided she had had enough of his smoke and wandered out of the shade.

“Aeris,” Tifa called after her. “Where are you going?”

“Just stretching my legs. I won't go far.”

Tifa ran after her. “Let me come with you. Just standing around waiting is getting to me.” She caught up easily and both women wandered away from the cobbled courtyard into the fringe of forest.

Barret watched them go. “Well, Wutai don't let foreigners into the Pagoda, it's hot as hell out here and now the women's gone. What do we do?”

Cid grinned. “Strip down and cool off?”

Barret grinned back. “My thinking exactly.”

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

Aeris and Tifa stayed close to the edge of the forest, never straying out of sight of the city. The shrubbery was not thick and the terrain was not especially challenging. Tifa was content to follow her friend's lead.

“Got any destination in mind?”

“No.” Aeris smiled as she skirted a boulder. “It just seemed like a good time to get a look at the local greenery.”

Tifa grinned and skipped ahead a bit. “Well, if you'll look over to your right, you'll see trees and to the left, we have rocks, shrubbery and even more trees.” She walked backwards and gestured widely with both arms, tour-guide style. “Stick with me, folks. We've only got a few more stops on our Wutai Greenery tour and trust me, you don't want to miss a thing.”

Aeris snickered. “Mind that shrub. It's poisonous.”

Tifa squealed and spun around just in time to avoid stumbling into the plant in question. “Whew, that was close! It's not deadly, is it?”

The flower girl bent down to take a closer look. As far as her friend knew, she was observing the leaves and berries, but Aeris was actually examining the pattern of lifestream flow within the plant. She soon straightened up and gave the plant a wide berth. “Touching it won't kill you, but it'll give you a nasty rash.”

“Hm, how nasty?” Tifa wondered.

Aeris spared the bush one backwards glance. “Oh, it's about `scratch off all your skin' bad.”

Tifa made a face. “Okay, ladybugs and gentlegerms, kindly keep your hands inside the tour bus.” Aeris joined her giggling and it took a while for both of them to sober up.

Tifa slowed down as their path took them near a bright clearing. “There sure are a lot of those little shrubs around.”

Aeris moved into the light to get a better look. There were small plants all around, with dark leaves or bright berries, thick spines or feathery branches, all bearing the glowing imprint of barbed and spiked lifestream flow. Not all were deadly, though all held danger. Some would require the work of a dedicated and devious hand to produce anything more than a slight irritation. With extremely careful manipulation, a few could even serve as potent medicine. The Planet often put the cure near the cause, but Aeris began to suspect that something else was at work here.

The bushes were spaced rather evenly and a few that were growing well out in the open were even trimmed into neat, rounded shapes. Aeris tilted her head in confusion. It seemed to her that only a very dedicated potential lunatic would actually take up pruning plants like that. She almost ran into Tifa while she was thinking about the possibilities.

“Why'd you - Oh!” Aeris sought a spot behind Tifa's shoulder when she saw the reason for stopping. The clearing was actually someone's garden and that someone was staring at them from the verandah. Accidental trespassing would not have been enough to truly make her quail, but there was something intent about the woman's gaze. Add to that the strangeness of the intricacies of Wutai's etiquette and Aeris definitely found the situation uncomfortable. She hoped she had not offended.

She was surprised when Tifa bowed, leaving her without cover for a few seconds. Aeris followed suit hastily and felt like a clumsy fool. She was just sure she was mucking up whatever was the appropriate behavior in Wutai for this situation. Something told her that sauntering up and saying, “I was just admiring your garden and wondering how you manage to grow choke vine without killing yourself,” was not the way to go.

Tifa surprised her again by beginning to say something that sounded very pretty, even if Aeris did not understand it. She had not known that Tifa could speak Wutanese. Aeris could feel the blue-robed woman's eyes on her despite the fact that Tifa was the one actually doing the talking. The flower girl tried to shrink further behind her friend's shoulder to hide her surprise.

Under the eaves of the house, Ayame stood and observed carefully. It was turning out to be quite a day. She had just barely come in from seeing the General out on one side of the house when two more unexpected visitors came wandering in on the other. The woman's eyes were drawn immediately to the girl dressed all in pink.

There was no mistaking it. Long honey brown hair swung about the girl's hips in a twisted braid. The eyes were green, not a match for the General's unique shade, but lovely enough in their own right. The girl was pretty, in a delicate way. Ayame watched how the girl shrunk behind her bolder partner, almost shying away from the line of sight. She seemed terribly young. Ayame narrowed her eyes. “That cradle-robbing bastard,” she muttered.

She just barely managed to register the end of the other girl's simple speech. There had been an explanation in there and a rather formal, rote-learned apology, but it had been enough to gather that the girls meant no harm. Ayame turned her attention away from her General's skittish lover.

“You have a good accent,” she complimented in the continental speech. “Might I ask where you learned the language?”

Both girls visibly relaxed at hearing their own tongue spoken so fluently. The one in the short skirt had done well but her Wutanese was clearly out of practice. She stepped forward, smiling. “My martial arts instructor taught me what he could. I know my vocabulary is not the best, but he specialized in the more colorful terms.”

Ayame laughed. Some of the first continental words to enter her vocabulary had been four-lettered. She stepped closer to the light. “My name is Ayame. I'm sure you must have walked quite a distance. If you have the time, you are welcome inside for tea. I'm sure you've got a good idea of exactly what is going on outside Wutai and I would love to hear it.”

The girls consulted silently with one another and the dark-eyed one won. She made her way cheerfully towards the house, making introductions. Ayame noted that the General's little lover, Aeris, shook off most of her nervousness at the reassurance that she could keep her boots on if she was more comfortable that way, never mind custom and tatami-matted floors. She took them off anyway, following Tifa's lead. Ayame nodded in satisfaction. Wutai's formality could be daunting to the uninitiated and the geisha's scandalously long involvement with gaijin had taught her when to steer clear of it.

“I hope we didn't interrupt anything,” Aeris said with her eyes on the used teacups in the center of the room. Ayame cursed her own oversight.

“You didn't. An old friend came to visit a short while ago.” Ayame would say no more than absolutely necessary. She cleared up the used tray and turned to get clean crockery. “Make yourselves comfortable.” She kept her attention on the girls. Tifa kneeled easily on the tatami floor. Aeris had to see how it was done but she mimicked the pose easily enough. Close up and less nervous, she did not look as young as she had outside. She did not fidget overmuch, but her eyes kept straying to the garden now and then.

Ayame knelt gracefully and began setting out clean cups and a tray of the sweets that were haunting her days and her hips. “Have you come a long way?”

“We've been traveling for weeks,” Tifa said. “We started in Midgar and just kept going.”

“Midgar,” Ayame smiled politely as the tea steeped. Out of consideration for her foreign guests she was careful not to make it too strong. “Are things settling down now after the change of power?”

“I don't think so.” Tifa shook her head. “I've got a feeling the situation is only just heating up.”

“Is that so?” Ayame questioned gently, letting the conversation turn where it would. She learned that the young women had come with a sizeable group and that the new Shinra president was seeking new mako and ways to consolidate his power. From the sound of things, the young man was turning out to be far more ruthless than his father, but less astute about actually running his company. Ayame carefully tucked that information away for the appropriate time. Godo had to shore up what was left of the country's defenses. Wutai had to be ready for changes. Ayame had to call her stock broker.

She expressed surprise to learn that the challenger at the Pagoda was in fact the young princess Yuffie, but she had long expected the girl to try something along those lines. Godo had raised Yuffie alone, mostly, and in some people's estimation he had let her run wild. He and his former comrades-in-arms had trained her the only way they knew how but now seemed oddly surprised and even horrified that the young princess completely lacked proper feminine refinement. Yuffie was determined to disabuse her father of his notions about what was proper for high-born ladies. Ayame glanced out at the Pagoda and secretly cheered the young Kisaragi on.

Tifa and Aeris were interesting enough in their own right. Tifa was easily the more open of the two, on the surface. Ayame credited that to her familiarity with Wutai and the alert confidence of a well-trained fighter. She was self-assured and an easy conversationalist. Aeris was more intent on taking it all in. Something about the garden kept drawing her attention. There was something particularly striking about her when she had that thoughtful expression on her face. Ayame had to hand it to her young General. He knew a pretty girl when he saw one.

Ayame worried a bit though. A girl that gentle and passive would be completely overrun by the General's presence. The geisha sincerely hoped that Aeris had not been coerced into going along with the soldier's intentions. She lifted the tray of sweets. “Would you like to try one of these, Aeris?”

The girl drew herself out of her reverie and looked at the tray. “Thank you.” She was the picture of politeness as she selected cherry blossom-shaped bean paste sweet. She held it and stared at it for a while.

Tifa grinned and nudged her friend. “It's okay to eat it, you know.”

Aeris smiled back a little and looked back down at the flower shape. “It's so pretty. It would be a shame to put a bite in it.” Ayame noticed the way the green eyes flitted to the garden before settling on the sweet. Now the geisha understood.

“Don't worry about it,” Ayame reassured. “The shop it came from makes more every day.”

“It's really good, Aeris,” Tifa hinted. She had chosen an intricately made square that looked like a slice of clear riverbed, complete with goldfish. Only half was left on her plate.

“Oh, Tifa,” Aeris looked over and grinned. “Did you have to eat his head first?”

“He didn't suffer,” Tifa intoned then burst out laughing. Aeris laughed too and took a tentative bite of her flower. She chewed slowly, either to get used to the taste or wait for any ill effects.

“Do you like flowers?” Ayame asked in a light tone. She knew the answer, but it was always good to get information direct from the source.

Aeris gave her a brief searching look. “I sell them. I have a garden at home and I keep it full of flowers.”

“Ah, that's lovely,” Ayame smiled back. “I'm afraid my plants aren't particularly known for flowers.”

“I noticed,” Aeris said quietly.

The girl was sharp, Ayame realized, and definitely had more than a passing knowledge of plants. No wonder the garden made her nervous. “I do make some herbal remedies from a few of the plants in my garden.” Ayame mentioned. “Do you ever grow healing herbs among your flowers?”

Aeris nodded. “Sometimes.” She took another bite of the sweet. It was really quite good.

“Aeris has a really good healing touch,” Tifa put in.

“Is that so?” Ayame studied the little flower girl. “I only dabble with medicine-making myself. Most of the plants aren't really suitable.”

“Why do you keep them around then?” Tifa was innocently blunt.

“They keep pests away,” Ayame said, struggling to keep the wicked pleasure out of her eyes.

“Do you get many?” Aeris wondered. She looked a little pale.

“Not these days. More tea?” Ayame reached for the tea pot. The girl was wary, and showing a shrewd restraint that the geisha had not expected. That was good, but handling the General required a certain strength and firmness. She was not sure that Aeris had it. “There were quite a few in the geisha district where I used to live though.”

“You were a geisha?” Tifa grew wide-eyed.

“Yes, my dear.” Ayame refilled the cups and wondered exactly what the young martial artist had heard about the flower life.

“Why did you stop?” Tifa sounded a little sad. The poor thing must have gotten the impression that geisha life was glamorous.

Ayame sipped her tea and graced the pair with a careful smile. “Business in the district never did recover from the war.” She set the cup down more noisily than usual and carefully schooled her eyes away from Aeris. “My… chief patron passed on several years ago and left me well-provided for. I had the means and the time was right, so I moved on. I devote my time to my music now, for the most part.” She stared out at the garden.

“Do you ever miss being a geisha?” Tifa wanted to know.

“Miss having my hair pulled up with wax all the time? Never!” Ayame smiled a bit more than was proper.

Tifa was shocked. “That's how it's done? Wax?”

“Oh, yes, it's a laborious process and the maintenance is a chore. It thins the hair terribly over the years.” Ayame smoothed her hair back, subconsciously checking to be sure it was still there.

“Couldn't they just use some really strong hairspray?” Aeris had dropped all guards now. Her own braid was wound around her wrist and she clutched the end to herself protectively.

“I wish they could. Even if there's a spray up to the job, it's unlikely that the traditional hairstylists would change. Purity of the art, you see.” Ayame took a delicate sip.

Tifa shook her head. “I had no idea. It always looked so beautiful. It's a lot of hard work to look that pretty, I guess.”

“Definitely.” Ayame swirled her tea around in a most unladylike manner. “After the hair, there's the makeup and the clothes. Getting a kimono on properly can take quite a while.”

“It can?” The martial artist sounded a bit disappointed. “You don't just put it on and tie it?”

“Hardly.” Ayame stopped, poised to launch into a full explanation about the nature of obi. “How much time do you have?”

“We're not sure,” Aeris explained. “We didn't really plan to be away from the group longer than Yuffie took to climb the Pagoda, but I don't know how that's going.”

Ayame looked out of door and up at the building in question. “There's been nothing further than the first gong of challenge. I'd say she's doing fairly well.”

“But it's been so long,” Aeris said.

“Exactly.” Ayame nodded. “Most challengers don't last ten minutes on the first floor.”

Tifa deflated. “The guys might start missing us if we don't get back.”

Ayame sat back on her heels and resisted the urge to hide a smile behind her fan. “It's okay to let the menfolk miss you now and then. Otherwise they start taking you for granted. Now why don't you come with me.” She gestured with a tilt of her head.

She led them to her dressing room where her kimono were stored. Several of her summer kimono were out hanging on racks all around. She restrained her smile as she heard the twin gasps behind her. It was an impressive sight, she had to admit. “Care to borrow one?”

Tifa blinked. “Really?”

“Will they fit?” Aeris wondered.

“One size fits all,” Ayame said. “I have the ones for younger women put away over here.” She went over to the far wall where the chests and wardrobes were neatly lined up. “Hmm, what colors?” She turned back and looked the girls up and down. The season called for bright, warm shades, perfect for young women. Ayame took in their particular coloring and nodded decisively. “I know just the thing. You can get behind the screen over there to change out of your clothes. I'll get the kimono out in a minute.”

The house quickly filled with a flurry of flying silk and wild giggles. It had been a long time since Ayame had felt so girlish, whirling out the long-sleeved kimono she had not worn for years. She went quite overboard, almost like a child with two new dolls to dress up and play with. Tifa and Aeris had grown so accustomed to the hard life of travelers that they had not relaxed and truly enjoyed gentler things for such a long time. Now, they did not have to worry about rations, making a camp or defending it from predators. They slipped easily into a realm of colored silk and laughter.

“The collar hangs away from the neck, dear, and we adjust the length like this.”

“Oh, that's how you do it?”

“We have to tie it here. No, no, don't drop your arms yet. Let me get this.”

“That looks okay.”

“And another tie here. Let me smooth it out. No wrinkles allowed. There, that's good.”

“Tuck here, fold there. This is a lot of work.”

“It is, I suppose. Hmm… Tifa, please don't fault me for saying this but we'll need to pad your waist.”

“Pad it? How come?”

“To get the correct lines. Your figure… does not lend itself readily to a proper drape.”

“Oh.”

“Darn boobies.”

“Stop laughing!”

When the first round was over, Tifa stood resplendent in a sprout green furisode with an intricate pattern of irises, chrysanthemums and bamboo shoots reaching up from the hem. A wide, orange-red, thickly embroidered obi belt completed the picture. With her long dark hair down, Tifa looked like a spirit who had stepped down a mountain in full bloom and found herself lost in civilization.

“Well?” She asked shyly, “How do I look?”

“You're beautiful, Tifa.” Aeris was breathless.

“It suits you,” Ayame said.

“How does it feel?” Aeris wanted to know.

Tifa puzzled it over. “Stiff.” She took a step forward and almost tripped. “I can't walk in it,” she said, laughing giddily.

“It takes some practice,” the geisha explained. “All right, Aeris, your turn.”

The silk whirlwind descended again. Ayame had chosen a furisode she had treasured herself as a maiko for the General's young love. The plum-pink shades at the shoulders of the kimono blended smoothly into a deeper scarlet at the hem. Delicate cherry blossom embroidery floated over the cloth. In the back, soaring up from the hemline in shimmering gold, was a glorious firebird. Ayame gave the phoenix a fond gaze as she tied the gold-stitched obi into a butterfly bow.

“Done.”

Aeris turned around and right then, Ayame saw the smile that had melted the General's heart. There was a childlike wonder in those green eyes and a joy that radiated through the girl's entire form.

“Wow, Aeris, you look amazing!” Tifa clapped her hands. Aeris turned and tiptoed over, grinning. Ayame watched both friends practically squealing in girlish delight.

“Oh, to be that young again,” she murmured and slipped out unnoticed. She returned only a few moments later and caught both girls whirling around carefully, making their long sleeves flutter behind them.

A flash went off and both stopped, startled. Ayame winked at them and waved her small camera. “Cheese!” After the initial surprise, they both happily posed for pictures. Ayame promised them prints of the photographs if they should ever pass through Wutai again.

It seemed too soon when the gongs of the Pagoda of the Five Gods began to sound again. The low ringing resonated through the foothills and continued until it seemed the sound would shake Mt. DaChao. The three women gathered near the window.

“What's happening?” Aeris asked.

Ayame could hardly believe it. “Young Kisaragi has defeated the Fifth God. Godo is defeated.”

“Seriously?” Tifa turned to stare out the window again. “What does this mean? Does she take over or something?”

The geisha shook her head. “Wutai has a new champion. Anything else would be for the girl and her father to work out.”

Aeris sighed. “I guess this means we should probably be getting back.”

“Yeah,” Tifa said sadly. “I really had fun here.”

“So did I.” Ayame turned her camera off. “You are both welcome back anytime you are in the area.”

“Are you going to be all alone here now?” Aeris asked sadly.

“Hardly,” Ayame replied, pressing a hand against the note tucked away in her obi. “A friend of mine is coming later this afternoon.” She smiled gently at the two young women and the silence grew heavy.

Tifa decided first. “I guess we better get these off then.”

Taking the kimono off was nowhere near as much fun as putting them on, but easier to manage. Ayame slipped away again to put her camera away while Aeris helped Tifa unwrap. She had just reached the shelf in her study where she kept it when a slight rustle alerted her to Aeris' presence in the doorway.

“I'm sorry, Ayame. I think we tangled the obi together. We can't manage to fold them back the way you had them,” Aeris said, taking a few steps forward. She spotted something over the other woman's shoulder and froze.

The geisha registered the change in the girl's demeanor and slowly turned to seek out the cause. “Oh,” was all she could say when she saw it.

The picture of General Sephiroth, clad in the dark dragon kimono, hung on the wall behind her. Ayame turned back towards Aeris to find the girl still staring silently. All Ayame could do was watch.

Aeris shuffled forward slowly, not believing her eyes. She got close enough for there to be no mistaking it. Silver hair like that, green eyes that glowed, the angled features she knew so well were all captured there, most likely by Ayame's own hand. The woman looked particularly red-handed standing before the framed picture holding a camera. Aeris felt her heart fall like a stone.

Sephiroth had spent a long time in Wutai. He had practically come into manhood there. Aeris had known that there must have been others before her, but she had not asked. She had assumed they were long behind him and that they did not matter. Aeris kept the older woman in her view though she could not yet bear to look right at the geisha now. She remembered used teacups and fought to breathe in the confining garment she wore.

Ayame took in the utter shock on the girl's face. Aeris was so quiet that the geisha began to fear it was too much for her. “It's an unusual picture, isn't it?” she said, attempting to smooth the situation, make it sound like the prank it had been so long ago. “I took it years ago, after a decent amount of planning. The right mood, the right light… hiding his clothes so he would have no choice but to wear what was available.”

Aeris pictured Ayame dressing Sephiroth with her own two hands. The flowergirl's fists tightened at her side. Ayame's open, easy manner about that thing on the wall did not comfort her. The blithe humor seemed like a challenge. Something dark and ugly rose inside Aeris. She turned the full strength of her gaze on the woman. Whatever Ayame might have had with Sephiroth, it was past now and it would remain so. Aeris would let the woman know in no uncertain terms.

The geisha was still talking about the picture. “I chose black for him. He would hardly wear anything else. Not that it mattered, of course. He was the kind of man who would look good in everything.” She paused as she saw the changed expression on Aeris' face.

The flowergirl met the geisha's stare and spoke with deliberate slowness. “He looks good out of everything too.”

Ayame forgot to breathe. She did not have to worry about Aeris being overpowered in her relationship. The General's flower had thorns and knew how to use them. A brilliant smile crossed Ayame's face and she stepped forward, near tears with happiness. “I'm glad you know it.”

“You are?” The sudden change was another surprise for Aeris. Ayame nodded.

“You've made someone I care about happy in a way I thought he never would be,” the geisha whispered. “I can only hope he does the same for you.” Aeris blushed and the tension eased considerably. “Why don't you go finish helping Tifa undress? Don't worry about the folding. I'll put everything away later.”

Aeris nodded, smiling a little and turned to go. Just as she neared the door, Ayame called out to her. “Aeris?”

“What?” The girl looked back over her shoulder and was greeted by another flash of the camera. She blinked away the remaining flare. “Was that it?”

Ayame set the camera down on the shelf. “Take care of him, little sister. He's quite hopeless sometimes.”

Aeris smiled. “I'm beginning to see.”

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

The sun was going down, the lights were coming out and Reno was enjoying what was left of his vacation. He rapped his knuckles to get the barkeeper's attention. “Another Wutai's Revenge!”

“And keep `em coming, right?” The barkeeper grinned.

“You know it!” Reno hollered, waving dramatically. It was a good life. The Turks had an odd relationship with the Turtle's Paradise bar. As Shinra employees, they were officially reviled, as were most foreigners in any corner of Wutai, but in the bar they were tolerated, even acidly liked, because they were damned good customers and not too bad once their particular dark sorrows were drowned.

The barkeeper set a glass down in front of Reno and poured liquid gold out of a shaker. “Drink up, you thieving drunk!”

“I will, you motherless louse!” Reno threw his head back and tossed half the drink down his throat. The burn was furious. Wutai did not have easily accessible mako and barely held on to its own sovereignty, but it did have some mighty powerful booze. Reno was still working on getting used to Wutai's Revenge, a pretty looking drink some nut had concocted shortly after the war. The red-headed Turk had no idea what was in it, but he liked it.

Rude sat quietly beside him nursing some vodka. He was always quiet on the job, but usually let loose a little more off duty. This vacation had not turned out like most others though.

If Reno had run into Avalanche at any other time or place, he would have held nothing back. But he worked hard for his time off, dammit. It was bad enough that Elena had to go get mixed up with the Don that morning. If Reno had ever doubted that she was a natural blonde…

Well, no matter. Elena was fine, off in the inn nursing a bruised ego. The little Kisaragi brat was okay and there hadn't been much sign of Avalanche all afternoon. Reno suspected they might have had something to do with the gong-ringing, but his rear end had warmed too well to the bar stool by then to make investigating worthwhile. He took a careful sip of his drink as he considered how many ways Tseng could get mad at him for not doing anything. He did have one buffer against the worst of it. Shinra was finally rid of the Don. The crime boss had outlived his usefulness.

All in all it was a pretty good vacation. Too bad Rude could not seem to relax now. The bald man sat hunched over the bar, staring into his glass. He was so quiet that Reno wondered if the man was able to wind down at all. Sometimes Reno worried about Rude.

He leaned over and nudged his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, you doing okay over there.” Rude grunted in the affirmative. Reno was just soused enough to try something that relative sobriety and machismo would not let him do - get in touch with Rude's feelings. “You sure? Cuz if something's bothering you… Well, I'm here. Know what I'm saying?”

Rude did not answer.

“If you ever got something on your mind, something eating away at you,” Reno continued, “anything, anytime… You need somebody to talk to? I'm here, man. I'm here.”

“Hmm,” Rude grunted and was quiet again for a long minute. Reno sat staring at his friend. Finally Rude raised his head. “I'm thinking about getting my back hair waxed.”

“…Oh… kay.” Reno turned back to the bar and polished off his drink. Sometimes he really worried about Rude.

The door swung open and Yuffie Kisaragi burst in, wild-eyed and stomping angry. She marched up to the end of the bar. “Gimme sake! Gimme lotsa sake!”

“Whoa, little lady!” Reno called out from his stool. “What's gotten into you?”

“I don't want to talk to you, Turk!”

“Is that anyway to show gratitude for rescuing you from that greasy old lecher? I'm hurt.” Reno watched as one barkeeper poured the rice wine for Yuffie and left the bottle. A brand new Wutai's Revenge was waiting for Reno when he reached for his own glass. He lifted it and paused to admire the way the light shone through the golden depths. “Hey, Kisaragi, can you handle one of these?”

“I don't drink that!” Yuffie snapped.

“Why not?” Reno turned his head to look at the drink from another angle. “I just want to know how a native handles it.” Yuffie just grumbled and poured herself more wine. Reno nudged Rude again. “Hey, Rude, how come you never drink these?”

“Don't like the color,” Rude said. “I'm worried I might be drinking somebody's pee.”

Reno set the glass down and stared hard at it. He thought he heard the bartenders snickering in the background. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to find a new favorite watering hole. “Wutai's Revenge, eh?” He flicked the glass and watched the liquid vibrate. “Aw hell, if it ain't killed me yet, it ain't going to!” He picked it up, drained the whole thing and collapsed against the bar, coughing and spluttering. “Oh yeah, now that's what I call liquor!”

Yuffie watched him in disgust and went back to working on an alcohol-induced stupor of her own. It was pretty easy to ignore the Turks. She had been running into them in Wutai every now and then since the end of the war. They had a passing acquaintance, not a particularly friendly one, but familiar enough. Reno himself was personally responsible for some of the saltier additions to her Continental vocabulary. She poured the sake as fast as she could drink it for a while, then started chugging straight from the bottle.

“Hey, little lady, are you going boozehound on me now?” Reno was a bit alarmed. “You probably shouldn't, you know. You'll have a country to run one day.”

“Shaddup, Turk! I got problems!”

“We all got problems, kid. I just think you should give it a few more years before you start pickling yourself.”

Yuffie called him several very unflattering things in reply. Fortunately, Reno did not speak Wutanese. “Look,” he said, almost toppling off his barstool, “I'm just saying whatever it is, it can't be that bad.”

Yuffie took another swig out of the bottle and called for another. It damn well was that bad. Just as she got one thing sorted out with her old man, another had to pop up. She had defeated his wrinkled old behind. She had fought it out with Shake and the others and beat them all fair and square. And all this after that embarrassing encounter with Don Corneo on the mountain. She had been tired and strained and humiliated almost to the point of tears, but when faced with her father's `suggestion' that she give up the hard life to settle down and become a proper lady, she had sprung into action. Tired as she was, she funneled her outrage, held on by grit and determination and showed him that she was no helpless child, no twittering, weak female child good only for alliances and heirs.

So having secured her right to rule Wutai as an independent woman when the time came, was it really too much to expect her father to actually level with her now and then? It seemed that was beyond Godo's ability. She woke fresh from a long nap, eager to take on whatever the world threw at her with her proud father at her side.

Except he was not. She found Godo awake and hurriedly getting ready, checking his hair, setting out wine, ordering the kitchen staff into a fluster to get everything right. Then he had practically told her to run along and play with her friends. Yuffie swallowed more wine to hide the burning in her eyes. Some things never changed and when they did, it was not good.

She sniffed and the prickling at the back of her eyes got worse. She was too exhausted to maintain any kind of control anymore. A lone tear ran down her cheek.

“Oh, hey, kid,” Reno started. “What's the matter?”

She looked up at the red and blue blur in front of her. “Dad's got a friend,” she sniffled. “A lady friend.”

“Godo?” Reno was three times as loud as he needed to be.

Yuffie nodded and warmed her hands on her sake bottle. “They've been seeing each other every night for a while.”

“Wow,” Reno mumbled. “No wonder he's been sleeping in so much.” Rude kicked him. Reno sighed and quieted down. “Look, it's not that I mean to be hard on you or anything, but your mother's been gone a long time, hasn't she?” Yuffie nodded. “Your father's not totally over the hill yet and you're clearly able to take care of yourself. A man's bound to get lonely in old age. Maybe it's just time your father moved on.”

Yuffie shrugged and wiped her eyes. “Maybe.”

“There you go,” Reno grinned at her. “If it really gets to you, you can get back at him easy. Just get yourself a nice boyfriend and drive the old man crazy.”

“What?”

The Turk spread his arms expansively, “If you're interested, baby, here I am!”

“You fucking bastard!” Yuffie shouted and took her sake bottle to the far corner of the bar.

“Hey, if you're going to bite my head off, you could at least suck on it a little first!” Reno hollered. Rude smacked him upside the head. Reno whirled around. “What was that for?”

“Don't talk that way to young girls.”

“It's Wutai. She's legal,” Reno protested, rubbing his head.

“And her father lives right up the street.”

“Oh yeah.”

Yuffie settled into a corner and tried to lose herself in observing the crowd. It was definitely dark by now and perhaps her father's friend would be up at the main house already. Yuffie was glad she had her own place closer to town. There was no way she was going back up to the courtyard tonight. Who knew what she would walk in on?

A steady stream of regulars came in through the door. Barret and Cid hopped in at some point and started a noisy drinking game. A familiar looking drummer and his flute-wielding friend started an arm-wrestling match. Yuffie stayed in the corner and tried not to be seen. She poured another cup of sake, then folded her arms on the table and stared down into the wine. She chewed over all the worrisome things in her short life; a country with no pride left, half a real family, a father who somehow expected her to be his best student and a refined Wutai lady at the same time, a father who kept dropping hints about her age and his wish for grandchildren, a father who kept lecturing her on the importance of family and heritage while he was philandering in the very house she grew up in.

Life was distinctly not fair. That was why Yuffie did not feel bad for cheating now and then. She drained her cup and refilled it, resisting the urge to heap curses on her honored father's head.

He could do as he please and say what he wanted. Yuffie had never shied away from her duty to Wutai. Everything she had ever done was for Wutai. Nearly everything she ever would do would be for Wutai. She would have a country to run, a throne to secure, a nation to restore and preserve someday and she would do what she had to do. She would not be the figurehead ruler people expected her to be. She would go along with duty as far as she had to, no matter how unpleasant it might be, but she'd be damned if she let the old man run her life long after his was up.

“Excuse me.” A shadow fell across her table. She looked up to see a slender boy about her own age standing there. It was the same boy who had come over to sit silently beside her in Rocket Town.

“What do you want?” Yuffie scowled. It did not chase the look of absolute awe from the boy's face.

“I just wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Well, ask away, then. I'm not promising an answer,” Yuffie growled, emboldened by sake and bad spirits.

“Word's running around that someone actually defeated Godo in the Pagoda today, someone who sort of matched your description.” The words spilled out in a rush. The boy was flushed with excitement. “I was wondering if maybe that was you. Was it?”

A slow grin spread across Yuffie's face. This was more like it. The awe, the open admiration, the near reverence… this was what beating Godo was about. Well, this and Wutai and the rights of the modern woman and all that other noble stuff. “Yep,” she drawled. “It was me. Little Yuffie Kisaragi whipped her old man's behind.”

The boy's face fell and his dark eyes grew wide. Yuffie had a sinking feeling in her gut. He was going to retreat, all proper and polite, like most people did when they realized they were talking to the Lady of Wutai.

The boy bowed deeply. Yuffie watched how his longish hair fell forward and repressed a sigh. It was such a damned shame. He wore an almost worshipful expression when he straightened up. “Kisaragi-san,” he began. “I am honored to finally meet you. My name is Yuki.”

Yuffie blinked. “Takeda Yuki?”

The boy nodded. Yuffie openly looked him up and down, committing his features to memory. She swallowed. This was highly unexpected. Finally, she had a face to go with the name she had known since childhood. He was not bad looking, definitely not the muscle-bound bruiser she had expected. Definitely not what Godo expected.

Yuki had very nice hair, she decided. It would look like Vincent's if it were longer. And the way Yuki was looking at her, the regard, the wonder, the absolute deference set her tingling. He was not shying away from her title and he did not look like he expected her to be more proper either. Yuffie smiled broadly. She was going to be able to walk all over this one.

“I'm pleased to finally meet you too, Snow-boy! Now why don't you pull up a chair and I'll tell you how I knocked the old man flat.”

Yuki grinned and straddled a seat. Yuffie called for another cup and launched into an embellished version of her day.

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

Ayame's fingers flew over her koto. Her touch on the instrument was only slightly less technically proficient than usual this evening, but in a way that would be known only to the musician herself. The strings sang with unrestrained life under her hand. Emotion made for its own kind of skilful playing.

It had been quite a day for visitors, some of them friends she had not seen in a long time, some of them new but dear acquaintances and all of them brimming with their own youthful energy. They had brightened Ayame's day but she had to admit that they tired her too. In the face of all that boundless spirit, she was beginning to feel old. The koto sang with the spirit of a woman waving goodbye to her youth, feverishly making the best of what she had even as she felt the time slipping away.

She finished the piece she had been playing and stilled the strings with both hands. She looked over to where Godo sat. He was more tired than she had ever seen him. He was doing well for a man of his years, but keeping up with his adolescent daughter's boundless energy had almost flattened him for the night.

“That was lovely, Ayame-san,” he complimented. “There aren't many left who play a koto like that, even among the geisha. You should give lessons.”

“My lord is generous with his praise,” Ayame said in a soft voice. She lowered her eyes to her instrument. “I have trained my share of maiko and I have taken a new student this very afternoon.”

“Oh?” The extent of his exhaustion was clear from the amount of surprise that showed on his face. “A maiko is traveling out of the entertainment district for lessons or are you going back?”

“No, my lord. An old friend of mine brought me a talented young man who needs further training. Shall I play something more?”

“No, no,” Godo slumped a little over the remains of an elaborate meal. “What I'd really like is a stiff drink.”

Ayame set the koto aside and moved closer at Godo's beckoning. She carefully held her sleeve back as she poured sake. Fatigue had loosened Godo's tongue more than wine would. He was given to reminiscing about better times, like most of Wutai's old guard, but he still had a country to run and more relevant things on his mind. She had only been there a short while but had learned as much as she normally learned in a week about what was worrying the Dragon of Wutai.

It was mostly Yuffie, of course. Godo worried so much about his little girl.

“Sixteen,” he said, rambling off not for the first time. “Sixteen and she's outdone all five of us. Sixteen, Ayame, sixteen!”

“She would not be half so good without your expert tutelage, Lord Godo,” Ayame said gently.

“She should have been a boy,” Godo moaned. Ayame repressed the urge to roll her eyes.

“The times have changed, Lord Godo.”

“I suppose they have.” The man sighed. “Maybe it's for the best.”

“It is, Lord Godo?” This was a surprise.

“Yes.” Godo sighed. “She absolutely refuses to stop traveling around, but it's been a profitable venture thus far. I have no objections as long as she can take care of herself.” He stared deeply into his cup. “I'm not sure if she can, though.”

Ayame schooled her expression to placid surprise. “Are you still not sure after she met the challenge of the Pagoda?”

Godo shook his head. “It's not that. I know she's good. I taught her, after all. It's just… I don't know if she's good enough.” He looked Ayame in the eye and the woman shyly looked down. Godo reached over and took her chin in his hand. “Ayame, she told me something terrible.” The geisha let the hush grow until Godo felt a need to fill the silence. “That group she travels with now. They are on a very dangerous mission, Ayame.”

“Too dangerous for a champion of Wutai?”

Godo took a deep breath, steeling himself. “They are chasing Sephiroth. He's alive, Ayame. That murdering bastard is alive!”

The woman blinked and hoped that she looked sufficiently surprised. “He is? But he was reported to have been killed.”

“Shinra lied!” Godo sat back on his heels. “They lied! I should have known. There was no way the Nemesis of Wutai could possibly have died in some little reactor accident!”

Ayame swallowed. There was something here she was not seeing. “Has he made any hostile moves?”

“He killed Shinra!” Godo still could not believe it. “All that accident nonsense was just another lie. Sephiroth killed old Shinra and half the company guard. Yuffie says he's going around looking for something and gathering followers for I don't know what.”

Ayame sat still. Her hands clenched in her lap and she had to force them to go limp. What had her young General gotten himself into now? “What will you do, Lord Godo?”

There was a trace of an old, fierce fury on Godo's face, a determination that Ayame thought had long gone out of Wutai's warriors.

“We can't mobilize openly yet, not with Shinra still watching. I'm going to increase attention to city defenses. If anyone questions the repairs to the ramparts, we'll just call it historic restoration. I'm going to have to increase the grain tax. The farmers won't like it, but the royal granary is the emergency food supply for much of Wutai. I just hope we have enough time to fill it.” He sighed, then stiffened his back.

“People don't take as much interest in armed combat as they used to, but there must be some way for to get the general populace to take immediate interest in arming itself. Perhaps some kind of contest for craftsmanship. Encourage the weapons makers to put their best on display for judging and general viewing and invite them to make a killing off selling what they have available.”

“Will the people purchase weapons as you hope, Lord Godo?” Ayame asked, leading him as gently as she could under the circumstances. “Men cannot eat swords.”

“Hmm,” Godo looked thoughtful. “I'll have to subsidize sales, I suppose, since I'm increasing the taxes.”

“It shall be quite an honor to the households to have a well-made sword displayed on the wall,” Ayame said. Godo gave her a strange look.

“It's not for display,” he said, and she hid her laughter. “We will need to train the younger ones in use. Most of them know only open-handed combat, if anything at all. Things are stepping up faster than I thought they would. We can announce more tournaments and not just in the city. We have to take this to everyone. Publicize it well and enrollment in our martial arts schools will increase.” Ayame found the look in his eyes to be admirably devious. “We'll increase the exhibitions and displays and promote them as tourist attractions. We'll shore up our defenses right under Shinra's nose and they won't even see it coming.”

He was taking a chance with this. Wutai risked doing too much too soon, where before it had relied on stealth and gradualism. If word of this got into the open and Shinra did not find itself preoccupied with greater problems, things could get very bad for Wutai. Godo's father would have welcomed it and gone down fighting, but Godo's father had had sons after him to carry on the fight. Godo had only a daughter and even if she had turned out as good as any boy, maybe better, it was hard to shake years of thinking only of protecting her. “If it comes to the worst, we'll retreat to the mountains. I'm not sure what condition the old tunnel network is in though. I'll send Staniv on a `Holy Pilgrimage' to look into it.”

Godo paused for breath and found Ayame staring at him as if she had never seen him before. He reached over again to hold her hand. “Don't worry. Whatever's coming, Wutai will survive, one way or another.”

Ayame stared at their linked hands and then up at Godo. “I'm not worried.”

“Good.” He did not let go of her hand. Instead, he actually tightened his grip. “Oddly enough, I almost feel grateful towards that silver-haired bastard. Imagine him taking out the old Shinra president. Dying at the hands of his own great soldier was probably the last way the man expected to go.”

The geisha woman laughed a little but said nothing. She only tightened her own grasp on Godo's hand.

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

Aeris ran one hand through her loose hair as she looked up and down the street. The Wutai capital was quiet at night, and darker than she expected of a city that size. Wutai had no reactors to speak of and for the most part still relied on oil lamps when night fell. The houses were lit from the inside with a soft yellow glow. The moon was waning, but the night sky was cloudless. The stars shone down in full force, touching the world with silver white and lighting bright sparks on the rippling water. Aeris felt the Planetsong drifting around her. She tried to hum along but lost the thread of intricate melody.

She shouldered her lightened knapsack and started to walk. Hardly anyone was about on the streets at night. The few people she passed were too intent on reaching their destination to take much note of a tourist. The Turtle's Paradise bar seemed like a popular spot. Aeris could hear music above the drunken laughter and breaking glass. It seemed bright and fun, not the least bit like the seedy, rundown places in Midgar where one could get a bed in the back for a few gil and warm body to fill it for a few more.

Aeris shook her head. The Turtle's Paradise might be a bright place, but it was not where she wanted to go. She had no set destination. The Planet could not help her find the one she wanted, but she knew he could not be far. She reasoned that he must be near water. That would be a problem though. Wutai was the home of the water god and the Land of a Thousand Rivers. She had no idea where to begin looking.

She stepped onto one of the city's elaborate bridges, careful to give wide berth to the man slumped heavily against one railing with a bottle in one hand. She stared over the side into the water below. There was no one there under the bridge or on the steep banks. She blew a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes and turned around. Only nine hundred and ninety nine rivers to go. This was not going to be easy.

“All rivers lead to the sea, little sister.” The man on the other side of the bridge straightened up.

“Adrean?” Aeris stepped closer as she made out his features in the weak light.

“Yes,” he replied simply. He propped himself up to take a seat on the rail. The bottle he held swished noisily, half empty.

Aeris tilted her head as she watched him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Isn't it obvious?” He held the bottle up steadily in front of her. “I'm trying to drown my sorrows. You'd think it would be easy with all the rivers around here.” He slumped down again, weary and stricken with sobriety. His sorrows were evidently strong swimmers.

Aeris looked from the bottle to the man. He didn't seem especially drunk, but he was clearly not in the best of spirits. She stood beside him and leaned on the rail. “Do you want me to call somebody? Or walk you home maybe?”

Adrean shook his head. “Thank you, but it isn't necessary.”

“Should I stay with you a while then?” There had to be something she could do to help. Tifa had been right. It was an odd situation when healers needed healing.

The man gave her a weak smile. “If you wish, but there's somewhere you want to go tonight, isn't there?”

Aeris laughed wryly. “I suppose, but I don't have any idea exactly where it is.”

Adrean pointed to the far end of the bridge. “The ocean lies that way.”

The flowergirl nodded slowly. “Thanks.” She kept her place against the railing and wondered why he was so sure she needed to be out near the sea. It was as good a place as any to look, she supposed.

Adrean sighed beside her. “They just won't stop.”

Aeris looked up at him, alarmed. “What won't?”

The healer rubbed his forehead with one hand. “The voices in my head. They just keep going on and on.”

Aeris stared, breathless and wide-eyed, resisting the urge to edge away. She of all people knew better than that. “You hear voices?”

“Doesn't everyone?” Adrean asked innocently, looking at her from between his fingers.

“Not where I come from,” Aeris told him. Her heart leapt. It was not fear. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him. Maybe he was a little touched in the head. Maybe he really did hear voices, just as she did. “When I was growing up, it was just me.”

“Oh,” the man said slowly. “Are your voices talking to you now?”

“No,” Aeris shook her head for emphasis. “They haven't for a while. I got them mad a while ago and they don't really talk to me anymore.” Adrean stared intently at her.

“You're lucky. When mine get mad, they talk more.”

Aeris laughed, but quickly stifled it. Making light of other people's misery was hardly a nice thing to do and she had been in a similar situation often enough. Just because she was not hearing any voices at the moment did not mean he might not be. A small suspicion formed in the back of Aeris' mind. It was likely that Adrean was simply sliding into intoxication, but what if he really, really heard voices, just as she did? Maybe he heard music too. Aeris listened closer to the hum of the Planet around them and tried to find the line of melody that belonged to the man beside her.

There was nothing at first. For a while Aeris was afraid that he was like Sephiroth, cut off from the Planet. Then she felt it very faintly, a strange sort of song in a different kind of voice. It was a slow melody, one that would take a very long time to finish its round. It fit smoothly with the rest of the Planet's symphony, but stood apart, as if it belonged far, far away.

His voice pulled her from the her explorations. “Are you planning to go on sometime tonight?”

“Oh, um, I suppose,” she said, just a little flustered. “I mean, I planned to, so maybe I should.”

“Shall I accompany you to your destination?”

“No,” Aeris blurted out louder than she would have liked. Adrean did not seem to notice. It was a prickly situation. Her best friends had no idea what she had come out for tonight while a healer she barely knew had no illusions about it. However, even though Adrean knew she was seeing someone, she still did not want him getting within sight of Sephiroth. She could not understand why the man was in such a hurry for her to get where she was going. “It's not that I don't like your company. It's just that I was… I was…”

He smiled knowingly at her. “Looking for very specific company. I understand.” Aeris blushed. “Don't worry about it. Most people spend their time looking for specific company after all, whether they know it or not.” He met her eyes with an unwavering stare. “Everywhere they go and everything they do, it's all about finding that one special someone.”

Aeris grew hot under his stare. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. Adrean laughed gently, sensing her unease. “Don't worry, little sister. I'm not here for you. Not like that.”

“Okay,” Aeris whispered weakly, letting out a breath of relief. Her healer friend did have a particularly penetrating gaze. He sighed himself and leaned back, tilting his head up to the sky. Chirping crickets filled the void left by stilled voices.

Aeris sought to fill the void herself, once she had recovered her balance. “Adrean?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are you going from here?”

“Who, me?” He seemed oddly confused.

Aeris leaned heavily against the railing and grinned up at him. “Well, you, yes, and the entire music troupe. What's the next stop?”

A subtle sadness softened the man's features. “There are no more stops. The tour has ended.”

“Really?” Aeris could not hide her disappointment. She had hoped to catch up to the group again in some other town. “How come?”

Adrean looked far out over the river. “It's the Master. Sagara has been ailing for years. There's only so much medicine can do. He's been holding on more by grit and fire than by anything I could do for him.”

The moment froze for Aeris while her mind refused to acknowledge the bad news. “What do you mean, exactly?” she asked slowly.

“Aeris,” he explained gently and as simply as he could, “Sagara has come home to die.”

Aeris swallowed and her heart skipped a beat. The man would return to the Planet. He would be reborn as fish or bird or tree and live again, but the music that had been his in this lifetime would not go with him. The end of life was a drastic change. Even to the Cetra, who understood the way of the world, there was sadness at a passing for all the beautiful things left only to memory.

Adrean shook his head slowly. “It has been terrible watching his decline. He has suffered so much.” He surprised Aeris by wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her a little closer. “When your turn comes, I pray it's quick.” He kissed her chastely on the forehead and released her.

Aeris reached up to touch the spot where his lips had been. That was a strange sort of benediction to give someone. He had definitely had more alcohol that was good for him “What… what happens now?”

Adrean smiled a little. “Don't worry about the troupe. They are skilled enough to manage on their own. Yuki is still only an apprentice, but I found him a new teacher, an old friend of mine. Not half the recognition Master Sagara has, but just as skilled.”

The Cetra leaned up against the rail again. “That's good. So he's going to continue his music studies.”

“Well, that or get married,” Adrean said blithely.

Aeris laughed out loud. “Seriously, he's only… what, sixteen? Seventeen?”

“The Wutai nobility do it young.” The healer shrugged and took a good sip from his bottle. “The whole thing's arranged.”

“You're not serious,” Aeris said, almost horrified.

“Oh yes,” Adrean explained. “Yuki's been betrothed almost from the cradle. It's a very advantageous match, I hear. The lady in question is highly ranked.”

Aeris knew her mouth was open but could not make herself shut it. She struggled for a while to make a coherent sound. “Is he actually going to go through with it?”

“It's what's expected of him.”

The flowergirl was appalled. “People don't live like that anymore! Things have changed! He doesn't have to go through it!”

“Things have changed but Wutai is still a different place with different rules. Whatever happens now would be up to him and the young lady to work out.” Adrean shrugged. “It doesn't have to be terrible. I hope they can at least get along.”

Aeris wrapped her arms around herself. “I'd hope so. Still, I'm glad nobody's telling me who to marry.”

Adrean coughed lightly and turned his head up to the sky with a curious grin on his face. Aeris watched him, puzzled. “What about you?”

“What?” He looked down again.

“What are you going to do?” Aeris stated. He was rather slow this evening.

“Me?” His voice was slow and dreamy. “I think I'll just stay here and watch the night sky for a while.”

Aeris rolled her eyes. That was not what she had meant, but it was an answer at any rate. “You do this a lot?”

“Absolutely.” Adrean nodded. “Nearly every clear night, in fact.”

Aeris beamed. That was a pleasant surprise. “So you must know all the constellations, right?”

The man laughed dryly. “Oh yes, dear, I know the constellations. I know the constellations.”

“Then maybe you can end a debate for me,” Aeris said brightly. “The Tree constellation, Aria… oh, where is it now?” It was

“Right up there.” Adrean pointed.

“Right.” Aeris focused on the small, upside down U-shape. “Is it really a tree, or just an umbrella.”

“Neither.” Adrean smirked at her. “It's an archer.” He stretched his arms in imitation of someone pulling a bowstring. “See how she aims? She's protecting the royal family.”

“All right,” Aeris murmured. “An archer, then.” Adrean nodded to himself with satisfaction and took a sip from the bottle. Aeris turned slightly and traced familiar patterns in the sky with her eyes. “Is Taia really a crown, or just a squiggle.”

Adrean took a very deep draught before answering that one. “It's a crown, Aeris. A very heavy one.”

“It is?”

“Yes.” Adrean held his bottle up to his face to see how much he had left in it. “It only looks small because it's so far away.” He scowled at the dregs in his bottle and swished them around a bit. Aeris tried not to laugh.

“You know your stuff,” she complimented, then turned around seeking other shapes she knew. “Oh dear. I can't find the chocobos.”

Adrean lowered the bottle with a heavy sigh. “Those are in the southern sky. We're too far north to see them.”

“Oh,” Aeris said sadly. She had fond memories of a night under the southern sky. “I like the southern sky.”

Adrean leaned over and let the bottle fall a few inches onto the bridge. It landed with the hollow ringing of strong glass. The man straightened up on the railing and sat very still. “I don't like it, really. It makes me a little homesick.”

Aeris reached out and patted his shoulder. “Will you go home then?”

The healer shook his head. “No, but I have been attached to Wutai for far too long. It's time I moved on.” His voice grew raspy. “I'll go somewhere far, far away, where nobody knows my face.”

“Hey,” Aeris chirped, trying to brighten the situation. “If I keep traveling, maybe I'll run into you somewhere.” Adrean did smile at that.

“Maybe you will.” He frowned up at the sky. “I've kept you here far too long. Somebody might be waiting for you.” He gestured with his head towards the ocean.

“Are you going to be all right?” Aeris asked.

“I'll be fine,” he replied, smiling. “But just to be sure, you better take the extra bottle of sake that's by that post there. I think I've had enough for one night.”

Aeris looked down near her feet and saw the full bottle hidden in the shadow of the bridgework. She didn't want it, but she didn't want Adrean drinking himself into the gutter, or worse, a river, to have his body dredged up come morning. She bent down and picked the bottle up. “Thanks,” she said simply.

Adrean nodded. “Safe journey out, Aeris,” he murmured and the girl started on her way with one more spared smile for him. He watched her intently as she went. She really was a pretty girl, he reflected. Lovely figure and a sharp, inquisitive mind. Almost perfect. His eyes were drawn to her slender waist. She really was tiny in the middle, a perfect, if slender hourglass figure. Quite pretty, just a bit thin. Her middle really was too skinny.

Adrean threw his head back and picked out the proud, impatient figures in the night sky. “Yes, I know. I don't know what's taking those two so long. Maybe this time they'll get it right.”

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A.N.: I know it's been a longer while than usual since I last updated this story, but I do have a reason. I graduated this year and things have just been incredibly hectic, what with the paperwork for before and after the momentous event. This chapter is double the usual length to make up for the wait. I hope you enjoyed reading it!