Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Path of Seduction ❯ Chapter Twenty Nine ( Chapter 29 )

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the property of Square-Enix. No profit is sought from this work. Original characters and elements are my own.

 

Path of Seduction

Chapter Twenty Nine

 

Sleeping late was the privilege of both geisha and independent women of means, a privilege in which Ayame indulged without shame. A long night, more than anything, called for judicious exercise of this privilege of particular social rank. A night entertaining Lord Godo in between fishing for information, especially with recent events, definitely counted as a long night. The climbing sun found Ayame on her futon, sleeping like the dead.

 

A rattle at her window failed to wake her. A few more light clatters made her eyes twitch, but just barely. One flinty pebble flew straight and true and landed with a thwack just inches from her nose. Ayame jolted awake and did not even have time to register what was happening before a second rock flew in, collided with the first and rebounded onto her head. She flew up with an undignified squawk.

 

Another rock came in through the open window. Two more came in quick succession and hit the house. Ayame ran to the wall and pressed herself flat against it, straining to get a look out the window. A flash of black and silver spurred her to action.

 

“General Sephiroth, why are you throwing rocks at my house?” Ayame gripped the window frame and railed at the man, heedless of the danger. One rock flew past, barely missing her head.

 

Sephiroth froze, dripping water, his arm stuck in the follow-through. “Oh, you're up! I was hoping you were. I have something to tell you!” The smile on his face was a touch too wide. Ayame edged away from the window.

 

“What is it?”

 

Sephiroth threw both arms in the air and spun around in a circle. “I'm in love!”

 

Ayame slumped. “Is that all? I thought we established that yesterday.”

 

“I'm in love, Ayame! We're going to have a house and curtains and a kid and everything!” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

 

“Are you now?” Ayame looked him up and down. Through the last haze of a sleep-fuddled brain, it finally dawned on her. “General, you're drunk.”

 

“Drunk on love!”

 

Ayame shook her head. “Why are you soaking wet?”

 

Sephiroth's smile faltered “There's a little river in your garden, Ayame. I had to go through it.”

 

“Why didn't you use the bridge?”

 

“There's a bridge?” Sephiroth blinked and looked around, half-dazed. Not twenty feet away, an elegant foot bridge arched over the stream. Sephiroth turned back, eyes bright. “Ayame, there's a bridge!”

 

Ayame groaned and wished she was still in bed. “General, just how many drinks did you have?”

 

Sephiroth began to count on his fingers, swaying a little and mouthing the words. He lost track twice and had to start over. Eventually, arriving at an answer, he bobbed his head up and declared, “One!”

 

Ayame could have smacked herself. “One shot?”

 

“Nuh, one bottle!” Sephiroth held up two fingers and stared with perfect innocence up at the window. Ayame slumped over the window frame and wondered what she had done to anger the gods of sleep.

 

“All right, you lightweight,” she sighed, “you might as well come inside and dry up. And out.” She stalked off towards her linens and began pulling out towels. They were going to need lots of those.

 

As soon as she stepped into the main hall, she knew this was not going to be easy. A trail of mud and water soaked her floor in a meandering line that started at the front door. Ayame clutched the pile of towels close and followed it straight to her bedroom.

 

Sephiroth stood close to the door, his face turned towards the sunlight, stark naked. “Oh, Hades,” Ayame groaned, “What is the matter with you?” Sephiroth turned around and blinked. Ayame shook her head. “Never mind. How did you get undressed so fast?”

 

“Practice!” Sephiroth grinned. “Lotsa practice!”

 

“Getting a lot of that lately, aren't you?” Ayame tossed him a towel. “Dry your hair, at least.” She studied him as he toweled off. His leathers lay in a heap in the corner. They were going to need careful drying and oiling, but the damage was probably already done. His boots bore a thick crust of mud. Ayame shook her head and wished she was strong enough to take the mistreatment of her tatami mats out on Sephiroth's well-deserving backside.

 

Which at that very moment was in plain view. Sephiroth had the bulk of his hair in front of him as he worked the towel over it. Ayame took the chance to make her careful observations. For informational purposes only, of course. Really. She sighed. “It's like you haven't aged a day,” she muttered. “Lucky bastard.”

 

“What?” Sephiroth turned.

 

“Nothing. Get the water out of your hair, General. You're going to need a good bath but I don't want you flooding my entire house in the meantime.”

 

Sephiroth worked quietly, swaying actually humming some strange fragment of melody that seemed coherent and possibly on-key, if unfamiliar. “Ayame,” he said suddenly.

 

“Yes, General.”

 

“I'm in love.”

 

“So you've said, General.” Ayame passed him a dry towel.

 

“We're going to live together in a little house with frilly curtains.”

 

“That's nice, General. Why don't you sit before you fall over?”

 

Sephiroth obeyed, half-flopping onto the futon as he tossed the half-sodden towel for Ayame to catch. “We're going to have a little house,” he said, his eyes heavy-lidded. “And I'm going to be a…”

 

“A what, General?” Ayame asked, neatening the towel over her arm. She glanced up when there was no reply. Sephiroth had fallen asleep on himself, sitting up on the futon, curling downwards with gravity's urgings. Ayame watched him slump right down. She leaned heavily against the wooden door frame. “Well, I'm sure this is the last time you'll ever be naked in my bed.”

 

She slid the door shut on him just in case and went to toss the towels in the laundry hamper. A rustle from outside put her on the alert. She dumped the towels and padded to the side door.

 

Yuki was picking his way through the yard, koto slung over his shoulder. He had the harried look of someone escaping trouble. Ayame slid the door open, realizing a moment too late that she was practically straight from bed. “You're early, Takeda,” she barked.

 

Yuki stopped short on the grass and made a hasty bow. “Good morning, sensei. I was hoping you wouldn't mind me getting an early start.” He hefted his koto and did his level best not to stare directly at her for too long.

 

Ayame made a vain attempt to smooth her hair. “Does this have anything to do with your mother?”

 

“Not really.” The boy still had not mastered the art of keeping his face effortlessly neutral. There was a telltale twitch of the eyelashes, only really noticeable if one knew to look for it.

 

Ayame nodded sharply. “Come in then, and begin. Don't wonder around the house, please. I have things to take care of.” She watched him like a hawk to be sure he went in the proper side. If she could just keep her guests on opposite ends of the house, she could have time to clean up the floor and not risk any kind of exposure.

 

First came a mop, and a broom, but they were not much use in the bedroom. The tatami mats were near ruined from the General's heavy boots. The mud and water did not help. “Damn that man,” Ayame mumbled as she tried to soak up the water. “Always leaving other people to clean up his mess.” Yuki hit a sour note that made her wince. “From the top, Yuki!” she yelled and put her back into the cleaning. She knew she was doing it all wrong somehow. Housekeeping was not the business of a geisha and Ayame had come late to learning it as a chore. She leaned on the mop and paused for breath. It would be hours before her hired help and other students trickled in and putting Yuki to work would be risky.

 

Yuki hit another wrong note, stopped, swore and tried again. Ayame tackled the mop again. At least the boy was busy, one way or another. Ayame thanked Leviathan for small blessings and picked two mats off the floor. All this cleaning and not a chance for a bath herself as yet. She took the mats outside in the hopes that the sun might dry them well enough to serve till they could be replaced.

 

“Good morning, Ayame.”

 

Ayame spun around, holding the small square mat up before her. In the crowning moment of a terrible day, Adrean stepped lightly over the bridge and made his way to the door, smiling. Ayame edged backwards, painfully aware of her thin, rumpled yukata. Her face was bare, her hair was a mess and she was probably even a bit muddy, yet Adrean, of all people, would choose this ungodly hour of the day to show up on her doorstep. “Men,” she groaned, “Always coming too soon.”

 

“Good morning, Ayame,” Adrean said again, “You look lovelier every time I see you.”

 

“Hmm, flatterer.” Ayame turned away.

 

“Maybe,” Adrean answered, “but not a liar. Yuki's here, isn't he?”

 

“Doing his best to drive off every woodland rodent in the vicinity.” Ayame backed into the doorway, still holding the mat up before her. Adrean grasped the edges and she let it slide with no protest.

 

“His concentration's probably shot for the day,” Adrean said, catching her attention. “His mother's not too happy at the moment.”

 

“So I gathered.” Ayame retreated behind the door while Adrean took off his shoes. “Are the wedding plans not to her liking?”

 

“There may not even be a wedding, depending on what Godo does. Things got rather heated this morning.”

 

“Don't tell me.” Ayame glanced into the house where the music was stumbling its way to fluidity. “Yuki is not what Godo expected.”

 

“Not what anyone would have expected from the Takeda line but the boy was still a baby when his father died, and the war took care of his uncles.” Adrean glanced up at Ayame. She was staring into the woods. She raised an eyebrow but did not look at him.

 

“So his education is his mother's fault, you're saying?”

 

“Maybe she didn't want a close reminder of her husband.”

 

“Wouldn't blame her,” Ayame muttered. Adrean pretended not to hear.

 

“I'm sure Yuki has his share in how he's turning out.” He straightened up and stepped inside at Ayame's bidding. Yuki struck several bad chords and began thrashing the instrument in earnest, no longer even bothering to play. Adrean shook his head. “I've been talking to him about that.” He strode down the hallway to where Yuki was doing his very best to massacre music.

 

“Yuki, if you're upset and want to talk, you just have to ask.”

 

“And interrupt your conversation?” Yuki plucked the strings again.

 

Adrean ruffled the boy's hair. “It's more polite than this, Yuki.” He pulled the boy's hands off the instrument. “The conversation was about you anyway. I would have welcomed your input. Ayame as well.” Ayame nodded slightly from the doorway. Adrean turned back to Yuki. “Your mother asked me to find you but I can take my time with the `looking for you' part, if you like.”

 

Yuki huffed. “Is she still crazy?”

 

“It's a permanent state of being for some people.”

 

Yuki hunched down. “She started screaming at me as soon as she saw me. She said it was my fault Godo's not going through with the arrangement, but I never had anything to do with it in the first place.”

 

“She's just looking for someone to blame. It will pass when things have cooled down,” Ayame said from beyond the door.

 

“I know that.” Yuki stared at a spot on the floor. “But she's right.”

 

“She is?” Adrean shared a glance with Ayame. Adolescents had such twisted reasoning.

 

Yuki rolled his eyes. He had not missed the look. “I asked her to study music. A long time ago when my uncle was still alive. He wanted to train me in combative chocobo riding and she was looking for any excuse to say no.” Yuki shrugged. “Apprenticeship to a Master musician seemed like a good suggestion.”

 

Adrean shook with silent laughter. “And it got you out of the house for quite a while, didn't it? Ayame, we're going to have to keep our eyes on this one.”

 

“Apparently.” Ayame had to smile from the doorway. “You're not to blame for this mess, Yuki. You may have wheedled your way into a little freedom but Godo's expectations and your mother's ambitions are their own creation.”

 

Adrean nodded. “It will be all right,”

 

“If you say so.” He still seemed sullen, but that was fairly normal.

 

“How was your walk last night?” Adrean asked brightly, deliberately changing the subject.

 

“It was okay, I guess.” Yuki shrugged but there was faint color rising in his face.

 

“Just okay?”

 

Yuki fixed Adrean with a look. “Yes, just okay.” He was really turning pink now.

 

“What walk was this now?” Ayame asked, floundering in the face of Adrean's knowing smile.

 

“Yuki escorted his betrothed home last night. It appears they simply ran into each other while the older heads were making plans.”

 

Ayame covered her mouth and laughed. “Isn't that nice? So, Yuki, is the girl acceptable?”

 

Yuki began to look extremely put-upon. “She's nice, I guess.”

 

“Nice, you guess?” Adrean said. “That doesn't quite sound like enough to have you sneaking into your own window early in the morning.” Ayame's eyes went wide.

 

Yuki frowned and went from plain pink to rose. “We talked. A lot.”

 

“Really now?” Ayame could not help asking, even though Yuki was cursing his luck at being stuck with the two nosiest people in Wutai and everybody in the room knew it. “Is that all you did?”

 

Yuki swallowed hard and started looking distinctly cherry. “She showed me her materia.”

 

“Showed you her materia, eh? Is that what the young people are calling it nowadays?” Adrean shook with laughter.

 

Yuki gritted his teeth. “You old people are crazy.”

 

“Don't worry. You'll get your turn.” Adrean stood an stretched. “Why don't you go for a walk or something.”

 

“Fine,” Yuki grumbled and set the koto aside. “How long is it going to take you two to talk about whatever it is you don't want me hearing?”

 

Adrean glanced at Ayame but didn't bat an eye. “A couple of hours should do it, I think. Try to stay out of sight.”

 

“Use the side door,” said Ayame. She kept her eye on him to make sure he went. Adrean stayed comfortably silent long after the boy was out of earshot. “Well?” Ayame said softly, still half-hidden behind the door.

 

“He's a sharp one,” said Adrean.

 

“He's got a bit of an attitude as well.”

 

“He'll grow out of it, I'm sure.” Adrean leaned back on his hands and tried to get a better look at Ayame. “If he doesn't just pop him a good one. That usually does the trick.”

 

Ayame nodded. “He'll serve well.”

 

Adrean stretched out and set one arm on a knee, a careful show of relaxation. “Care to tell me about your other guest, Ayame?”

 

Ayame exhaled and bent her head. Her heart flew to her throat at the thought of the separate threads of her life entangling. She shook her head and smiled wryly. It was probably inevitable, all things given, but the fates at least should have let her be properly dressed for the occasion. “Was it that obvious?”

 

“From the mats and the mud and your edginess about the front door, something was up.” Adrean glanced outside. “I found some muddy boot prints in the yard. Too large to be yours and you didn't seem to have any prowlers.”

 

“He's close enough to one.” Ayame wrapped her arms around herself. “You'll want to take a look, I suppose.”

 

Adrean shook his head. “It's your life, Ayame. I shouldn't intrude.”

 

Ayame fixed her gaze on the far wall. “You've been in my life longer than he has.”

 

Adrean looked up at her but she would not meet his eyes. “If you think it won't hurt.”

 

Ayame led him to her room, tiptoeing past the streaky, damp trail near her front door. “He's asleep now,” she said. She slid the screen door open and stepped aside. Adrean stood in the doorway, barely breathing.

 

Sephiroth had rolled himself up in the covers just enough for decency's sake, but Ayame did not spare him a glance. Her eyes were on the healer who stood trembling in the doorway.

 

Adrean shook his head, chasing off shadows. “He's… impressive.” The words were barely a whisper. The man took a step backwards, almost stumbling. Ayame moved in, concerned, but he waved her off with a slight motion. “It's okay. He's… something else. So much power.”

 

Ayame clasped her hands in front of her and willed her fingers to stay still. “What you are looking for?” The black-haired man stared for a long time, murmuring something wordless.

 

“No.” He shook his head. “Close,” he whispered, “Very close. He's not perfect but almost.” His thoughts ran to a young woman who was very near perfect herself. “Impossible. It should be. How could they possibly…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

“Are you alright?” Ayame inched closer still. Adrean nodded, stopping her where she was.

 

“I will be fine. I just…” The healer cut himself off. “It's dangerous. He is dangerous. But it's so close to something wonderful. Flawlessness with near perfection… It could be. It's risky, but it really could be.”

 

Ayame looked at the General. The light in his face did not wake him and he managed to look incredibly innocent in his sleep. Even so, Ayame felt her heart thudding in the same way it had when she had first seen him, a striding conqueror changing her life. “You will be leaving soon then?” she asked Adrean, although she did not turn to look at him.

 

“Not right away.”

 

“Good.” The word barely squeaked by. Ayame ducked her head to hide a shaky smile behind loose hair. The healer shifted again, trying to balance himself. Ayame did not move any closer, content to stand beside him with her sleeve gently brushing his own.