Ko in Wutai
It had been nothing but blue ocean water and sky for days. While the boat was steady in its course, it wasn't so fast that the trip was over before anyone knew it. No, Koarin knew the trip, and spent the daytime hanging over the rail, staring down at the moving water like he could spot something, with the man named Iguya holding him by the waistline of his pants, so he didn't slip in. He was so bored.
He had spent that first night and day crying, having no clue about why he was being sent away, and three of his five escorts put in a lot of energy trying to calm him down. The young but capable Maoran probably put in the most of her time being an awkward substitute for his mother, which didn't work at all. Iguya, on the other hand, who had done nothing toward Ko since he boarded, dragged the boy back on deck during the fading daylight, and stood him up on the bow of their small craft to make him watch the sun set into the ocean. 'Made,' for sure, since he wouldn't let Ko escape that railing until the sun was gone, and amidst Ko's tears, the boy rubbed at his eyes and finally said, "I have spots in my eyes."
Iguya plucked him from the railing, handed him to Maoran, and simply said, "Feed him."
"Are we there, yet?" Ko asked into the wake of the waters skirting along the side of the boat.
"You want to fall in?" rebutted Iguya, and tugged on his hold of the boy.
"It would be less boring if you did." Koarin had spent the last four--five?--days finding every nook and cranny of the boat his escorts would allow. There was nothing of interest to be found anywhere. And asking the adults questions, such as where they were going ("Wutai."), what did they do (no straight answer), and why were they taking him ("We were asked to."), got him nowhere. "Are there pirates, out here?"
"Yes."
Ko liked that answer. He wriggled, and Iguya pulled him back onto the deck. "Is that why there are all you guys?" Iguya remained suspiciously quiet and Koarin spouted. "It's not like it's a secret people on that island are all ninjas."
"Pah!" cried Jujin from the helm, just above Ko's head. "Ninja are fairytales, bon. But we can fight, be sure of that!" Iguya scowled. Jujin snorted. "Be realistic," he said. "He's a kid. He probably plays heroes and monsters with all his little friends. They have wild imaginations about faraway lands and stuff."
"I'm not a kid," Koarin stated indignantly. "I'm eight! That's almost grown up."
"You're short for an adult," Jujin said. "You one of them small people?"
Koarin huffed and turned back to the railing. "I hope the pirates get you."
Jujin laughed and said nothing more to him, whispering quietly to Maoran, who had stuck up to the deck a moment before. Iguya leaned against the railing in silence, his back to the water, beside the boy. He didn't look too happy, but Iguya was patient, if not respectful. And like he assumed would happen, Koarin said, "I didn't have any friends in Alull or Junon. Mom keeps me home-schooled so I don't meet a lotta people." He looked up to the intimidating man. "What's the Nihan word for 'friend'?"
Iguya looked down and him, and said simply, "It's 'tomodachi'."
Koarin repeated it a few times, like he was tasting it. "Is it okay if I call you tomodachi?"
Iguya said nothing, only dropped his hand to the top of Koarin's head in polite refrain.
They landed the next day, sometime after lunch. There wasn't much to the little, shabby port they had docked at, and Koarin's nose scrunched up while he held Iguya's hand. "Is this where we're going?"
"No. Come."
It was more traveling--this time by Chocobo, which fascinated Koarin to no end-- but certainly by less. They reached Wutai by nightfall, and Iguya was left to carry the boy, having fallen asleep some time before.
"He likes you," Maoran informed him. "Are you surprised you're stuck with him?"
"I doubt he's even surprised," Jujin ribbed. "When has Asahi ever had an emotion?"
Akanosuke smacked Jujin upside the head. "Master won't like the way you're talking."
"Yes, bucho," Jujin said sourly.
Koarin woke up on the floor, which was odd. His neck also hurt, and couldn't guess why until he saw the small thing that was his pillow. It was even odder. Oddest of all, he was in a room, and not its only occupant. Iguya was sitting on the floor behind his bedding and leaning up against the wall with sword in hand, eyes on him. "Did you sleep well?"
"I...think so?" Ko glanced around in all directions. "Where are we?"
"Your patron's house," he explained. "You'll be living here while you're in Wutai."
Koarin stared at him, and then stared down at his blanket. "I am," he murmured, "really away from my mom, aren't I?"
The rustle of weight, cloth, and metal was unmistakable, as Iguya got to his feet. "There are clothes on the chair in the corner. Get dressed, and I will introduce you to Nene-san."
Nene introduced Koarin to the fruit called a mikan. He wasn't the same, since.
Koarin played with the end of his braid idly, his eyes to the tops of the trees. He'd been inside the confines of the town for a month now, helping Nene, taking lessons, avoiding the kids, and trying to speak the language, since those who spoke Central were the exception, and not as common as Koarin initially thought. But now Nene-san was napping, there were no lessons, and his chores were done. And he was happy to wander off. Just a little ways, he told himself.
He was dressed more like the rest of the populace, with light, loose pants and a top that fit to form. The sleeves clung to his upper arms, and it had taken a while to get used to it. Soft shoes made little noise on the forest floor, and it was almost like something out of a storybook, at how quiet it all was.
He scampered up that rock, over that log, under that up-shot root. Everything was his to look at, and of course his eyes went alight when at each little plant he saw, convinced everything was indigenous and totally awesome. And he wished he could touch, but his mother warned him about touching strange plants when she learned of his little interest. "Some plants are poisonous," she had explained. "Not just to eat, but to touch, too."
But there was a hedgebrush he was forlornly investigating when he heard sounds. Human and not human. But in every direction he looked, not a person or beast in sight, which was no, not odd at all. But he followed them, precariously, until he found the reason why he saw nothing and heard more than he should have: the woods had a gully, cut like a winding snake into the shell of the earth, and down at the bottom, some twenty feet down a steep slope of dead leaves and awkwardly growing trees was a boy his own age--with white hair?--facing the stone cliff opposite the dirt side, his hands burning with fire.
He braced himself against one of the young trees at the edge of the drop and got as close a look as he dared at the moment. What the boy below was looking at was a small cave not too deep, full of yapping and mewling and harmless snarling. It was like a mash of fur, white furred and black spotted, all coagulated or something. Koarin couldn't tell what it was. What attracted Ko more was that the boy with fire was speaking Central.
"Work, you," he was telling something. "I don't want Fire-one. I want Fire-three."
He shook something in his hand, fanning the flames around it, and whatever was there sparkled in the sparse sunlight reaching the floor. Materia, though Ko, even now in more awe. They don't let kids have that. Ever. Did he sneak off with it? Where did he come from? Was he local? Or was he like Ko?
He would have announced his presence first, but the tree seemed to want to do it for him. The soil wasn't sturdy, the roots not too firm, and Koarin found himself taking a tumble down the slope, rolling down with screams unbecoming of a boy. At the bottom, he was sure of a few things: his clothes were more than obviously stained in dirt, the sapling was still in his hands, and the boy was staring at him like he came out of thin air. It was almost magical. Koarin, not even up from his fallen position, simply waved and went, "Ohayo."
"You don't look like them," the boy murmured.
"Oh, I'm not," Ko admitted. He shifted and scuffled until he could see past the other. "What are you doing?" This close, he could see exactly what the wriggling furball was: a mass of four kittens all huddled together, trying to back further into the shallow cave and only hitting stone. They were cute, adorable even. But the boy had materia. He looked from the kittens to the boy and asked a little more insistently, "What are you doing?"
This close, he could see the other's eyes, and Ko was pretty sure he had only seen that color in housecats. An iridescent green, as green as the materia he held. It was so pretty. He liked cats. But the eyes themselves were haughty, almost, like having airs about him. "Practicing."
Oh. Oh. "On kittens??"
The boy sent him a lasting look as he turned back around. "Beasts are beasts," he said, trying to ignite the materia again. "It's four less that'll likely kill some innocent civilian when they're out and about."
"But they're babies!" Koarin scrambled up, not missing at all the look of reproach he was being given as he put himself between fire and a hard place.
The boy gave a dismissive roll of the eyes. "What do you know? You're just a kid. I'm a soldier. You aren't going to be protecting people from monsters. I am. So move. You'll thank me later when you aren't eaten by a coeurl."
"That isn't--"
Compared to the growls of its young, the growls of an adult coeurl were infinitely more terrifying and far more dispelling than the cries of the babies, freezing both children in their boots. Because it came from above, and even Koarin knew what had the higher ground was in a better advantage of making its move than those below. Slowly, both looked up to above the cave, atop the ridge of the cliff.
The coeurl adult was looking back at them, teeth bared, whiskers vibrating, and that deep rumble of a warning all the warning any living creature needed. And if it jumped, they were dead.
It bolted along the edge.
"Run," the boy said. "Run!" He grabbed Koarin's arm and ran along the gully in the opposite direction the coeurl had chosen. The hill was not an option; they wouldn't make it up if the coeurl came back at any point to find them. Run the easy path. Not that Koarin was thinking that; maybe soldier boy was. Or in the den of danger, instinct just takes over. You just run.
They ran, and ran, and Koarin risked a look back. His heart seized. "It's following!"
And it was. Far enough back that if you didn't look right, you'd miss it around a turn, but Ko hit it and so did his companion, and my, did they pick up the pace.
"This is why you don't attack babies!"
"Shut up! We need to get out!"
"Any ideas, Mr. Fighter sir--?!"
Koarin stumbled. Face first, right into the ground. He became dizzy in his own situation as he curled up in a form of mindless, and useless protection. I'mgoingtodie!
The growls grew louder, and louder, and he could hear the feet rushing, and there was a brief misbeat in them as they were so close--
"FIRE!"
Light blazed beneath his shut eyelids, and warmth enveloped the air above him. There was an unhuman shriek, a falter, a twist and a thump, and finally the sound of four legs running away, back home. Koarin didn't know he was holding his breath until a foot was jabbing him in the back. "You didn't die on me, did you?"
"No..." deadeadeadeadeadead. He sucked in some air sharply. "What happened?"
The boy held out his materia and smirked. "I got it to work." He looked so proud, Koarin didn't say anything. But he was helped up. "You're a mess."
Koarin looked down at himself. Dirty, ripped, and banged up. Nene was going to kill him in poison. "I look better this way," he tried. "Don't you think?"
A face was made in his direction. "No."
This close, and both now at full height, Koarin could see he was taller than the kid, just a little. Maybe he was younger. "Shouldn't we get you back to the village?"
"We should be getting you back to the village. You're the civilian."
Koarin didn't get it, the way the boy spoke. "No way you're in the army."
"Special exception." Another smirk. "I'm going to be the greatest soldier ever."
Full of himself, Koarin thought. "Don't go burning up cats, then."
Sephiroth was practically stampeded back into Hojo's arms, the pinched materia confiscated and a lecture on what it meant to be a one of a kind specimen. Told him he was the greatest thing to walk out of Shinra's labs and he should be more mindful of his place as 'special'. Special meant not going anywhere without a chaperone of some merit. Told again and again how great he was going to be, if he just listened and followed orders.
Sephiroth went back to his room and put his arms on the sill of the window, lonesome. They tell him how special he was, what he was going to become, and he could tell people this prediction, too. But saying it and swallowing it himself were two different things. He tried to convince that blond, and it didn't work. Was it going to happen? Was all he was building himself to be going to crash?
But for a while, among all he was thinking of, the one off-thought was, "Don't burn cats," over and over in his brain. He'd pulled off Fire3 when saving that kid. Maybe there was a method. Maybe there was something to being a soldier than just fighting.
Koarin didn't face just Nene on his return, but Iguya as well, having picked today of all days to check up on them. He wasn't sure what to tell them, except, "I fell down a ravine thing."
Nene remained upset for the day, and Koarin promised her it would never happen again, that he would be careful. Otherwise, Iguya was going to have to babysit, and Koarin had to ask him, "What are you, anyway?"
"A finely crafted watchdog," he said dryly.
Iguya Asahi, twenty-eight years old, 5-foot 11-inches, and could readily kill an eight year old with a flick of his wrist. Not that it was hard to kill an eight year old, but Koarin was soundly convinced Iguya was more than just some fighter. He was convinced Iguya was the best, despite never seeing him so much as brush a bug off his clothing. Because why send anything less than competent to teach the basics of martial arts?
"My legs are hurting," Koarin told him.
Iguya didn't so much look up from the piece of wood he was shaving. "Keep holding it."
"Am I being punished? I didn't mean to cause trouble in the woods!"
The older man glanced up, his knife only slowing. "I'm told you need to know how to defend yourself. I do as I am told."
Koarin sulked as he held his horse stance. "Then what are you doing?"
"Do you know what sort of person you are going to grow up to be, Koarin?" Iguya asked abruptly. Koarin shook his head vigorously. "Neither do we. No one knows what sort of person they will become in the beginning. It is all about choices. But there are also intrinsic aspects of a person that cannot change. We are preparing you for that. That said, we are making a choice for you. Don't take it personal."
Koarin frowned. "That didn't answer anything."
"It will. Like this wood takes shape, so will you."
"...You sure you're not some ninja, with all that riddle stuff?"
Iguya smirked. "Keep holding the stance."
Koarin had forgotten the answer entirely when he was thirteen, having spent the first three years playing catch-up to the other kids his age, and the last two joining them for exercises. Iguya handed him a pair of wooden, light, no-hilt daggers, with blunt edges and only lethal if you were trying to aggressively hurt your opponent. "Who told you I was given daggers?"
"You did," Iguya said, "back when we first started training you."
Koarin stared, long and hard, and sighed. "Ninja," he blamed. "No straight answers."
"None," Iguya agreed.