All Through the Circling Years (Part One) A KH Fic
Title: All Through the Circling Years
Word Count: 39,182
Genre: Hurt, Friendship, Genfic
Summary: It's about growing up. It's about living as a constant refugee, it's about shaping a family and what that word ends up meaning. It's about living as a warrior. In short, it's a Yuffie piece.
Acknowledgment: This was written for the khbigbang challenge, for which I am extremely thankful. This is a fic I've wanted to write for a long time but never got around to motivating myself to do so. It would probably still be sitting in my head if it weren't for this comm. Also, I HAVE ARTS YOU GUYS! The lovely hiza-chan (or phantasmik) picked my story to Art for and she went above and beyond the call of duty, she has also been SUPER enthusiastic about this beast and as such, has helped keep me enthusiastic. I'm not going to lie, for a while there I wanted to quit but when I thought of all the hard work she was putting in for it too, I just couldn't. Please check it out here but probably after you read as the video can be considered a little spoiler-y? I'll post another link at the end.
And a billion trillion thanks goes out to lettersandliars who acted as my cheerleader, my sounding board, and my beta and managed to edit about half of this beast in the last 24 hours before it was due. I can never thank her enough.
All Through the Circling Years
Yuffie lies awake in her bed, tongue prodding at the empty place in her mouth where a tooth had been just a day ago. Papa tells her it’s okay, that a new one will grow in its place but Yuffie doesn’t like it; she’s never lost a tooth before and with everything else going on it just feels like a bad omen. She doesn’t want a new tooth. She liked that one just fine. It was a good tooth, solid, dependable.
She stares at the light overhead, listens to the quiet buzz the bulb makes and prods at her tooth-hole again. It’s sore and raw and she thinks she can taste blood now… which is probably a bad thing and she knows she should be sleeping but that stupid light is just so bright.
It makes the room feel too warm; her eyes want to stay open. No light means night time, means sleep time. This is all wrong and unnatural and she can’t stand it. Papa says it’ll be alright, that he’s going to fix it so they can turn the lights off at night again, but he also told her a new tooth was going to grow in her mouth and that’s just dumb.
Shut up, brain. Shut up and go to sleep. It’s night time. Sleepy-bye time so night night, brain- she growls in frustration and rolls over to bury her face in her pillow. No good. Another sleepless ight. Yuffie itches to get up and turn the light off- most of the kids in her village are afraid of the dark, which is also dumb. Yuffie couldn’t imagine being afraid of the dark, and not just because Papa is training her to be a ninja and says that nighttime is the ninja’s time. She just thinks there’s something comforting about the dark, about not knowing how far you are from a wall or a door or a cliff or a knife.
Something in the air shifts and Yuffie sits up, clutching her pillow. The very texture of the air is different, wrong, a kind of oily blackness and then she sees it: the aberration. The reason for all the lights being on at midnight. It stares at her with lamp-bright eyes, twitching in place and looking horribly out of place in her colorful room. It locks eyes with her, all inky dark and horrible and lunges for her, claws catching in the carpet as it propels itself forward.
Yuffie has barely enough time to suck in air for a scream. She’s not even a novice ninja yet, not allowed anything sharp on her person outside of class. She has time to think - how horrible to die defenseless- and she screams as loud as her tiny lungs allow, “PAPA!
The door whips open and a kunai is sent flying directly toward the thing. It explodes in a cloud of black dust with a quiet hiss, leaving a stain of shadow on Yuffie’s floor.
“Papa!” she whines. “It was in my room. You promised, Papa, you said if I left the light on, it wouldn’t get in here. The light is on and it. Got. In.” Yuffie fixed her father with a Very Unhappy Look. “You promised.”
Papa looks tired as he trudges into his daughter’s room. “They’re getting braver,” he says, absently picking up his kunai and wiping it clean against his pant leg. Papa regards Yuffie wearily; it’s a look that speaks of love and concern and restrained panic. Yuffie desperately wants him to say something. Even if it’s something inane and pointless and obviously a lie, he’s supposed to lie. He’s supposed to promise to make it better- he is her papa and that’s just how it’s done.
Instead he says; “Come, kiyomo, you will sleep in our room tonight.” He holds the door open and waits. Part of Yuffie wants him to come to her, to pick her up and coddle her and tell her the sweet lies in a quiet, concerned voice. But Papa is a warrior and a leader and then a father. Yuffie wonders if either of her parents will actually be sleeping, or if this move is more for her own peace of mind. She has no indication that her parents’ room is any safer than hers now.
But she just mumbles, “kay,” and slips off the edge of the bed and if Papa notices how quiet she is, he does not comment on it.
It’ll be a long night, Yuffie thinks, no matter where she pretends to sleep.
She wants to bring a stuffed doll with her, the carbuncle maybe, or the moogle. Something for her to cling to as morning crept into the world that would not move away from her or try to hurt her, but she was too sleepy for decision-making, and too afraid Papa would lose patience with her and leave her behind. So Yuffie leaves, trailing behind her father into the hallway, empty-handed.
All the lights are on; Yuffie imagines she can feel the strained confusion of the bulbs, wondering about this peculiar long shift they are forced to endure. She wonders if they’re as tired as she is about this whole situation, how bad they must long to sleep. Papa is talking again and Yuffie makes herself pay attention. It’s hard; their footsteps echo down the hallway and make her twitch all over.
“-replaced in the morning.” He eyes Yuffie carefully and, realizing she wasn’t paying attention, reiterates. “Your guard has been lost in this attack from the creatures. He will be replaced in the morning.” He fixes his gaze straight ahead again. “There is nothing to fear, kiyomo.”
The guards in front of Papa’s chambers hold their positions, not even acknowledging their lord as Papa and Yuffie slide into the room.
Mama and Papa’s room is Yuffie’s favorite place to be. Mama collects colorful silk hangings that are draped all over the walls in every color imaginable. Mama says they tell a story, of the rise of the Wutai clan, and often points out the carefully embroidered pictures but Yuffie just likes to touch the cool cloth to her face and inhale their scent. They smell a little like Mama - a sure sign that she enjoys touching them, too - and a little like the past: that strange musty smell that only comes from something that is very old. It’s an inner room: there are no windows to deter assassins sneaking in, but even so Mama has arranged lamps in such a way that it’s pleasant to be in; soft lighting that doesn’t make Yuffie’s eyes water but provides enough cover that there are no shadows to be seen.
Yuffie brightens; Mama’s actually here, it seems like it’s been days since she’s seen her. Mama is bent over her dressing table, tucking something into the sleeve of her dress. She peeks at Yuffie through the curtain of inky black hair and smiles. It’s all Yuffie needs to launch herself across the room, and Mama catches her up in a quick embrace, squeezes her tight as Yuffie breathes her in. Mama smells like lavender, mint, and chamomile; all part of a healer’s arsenal, all things used for soothing.
Mama can do more than just sooth; she has magic running through her and can heal people’s hurt. She tries to teach Yuffie, explained that a healer’s apprenticeship must start when she is very young, but Yuffie can’t grasp the magic like Mama can. She tried, still tries when no one is watching, and the magic is there but it makes her eyes cross and her breath come short. Mama says her mind isn’t still enough, that the elements are too unbalanced in her.
“You have too much air and fire and water and it makes the earth crumble at the edges.” She touches Yuffie on the chin, makes her tilt her head up and smiles down at her. “This is not a bad thing, kiyomo. It just means you are meant for a different path.”
Yuffie had decided that if she can’t be like Mama, she’d do the next logical thing and become a ninja, like Papa. Neither of her parents were particularly thrilled with this decision and tried to stall her training, tried to find something else for her to become interested in, insisted time and time again that the art of the ninja was not suitable for a young lady. But Yuffie has persisted for as long as she can remember (which, at the ripe old age of six, is admittedly not terribly long) and Papa finally relented with the stipulation that she never cries about how hard the lessons are. It’s only been a few months, and it has been a very very hard few months, but Yuffie has never cried.
Here and now, Mama brushes her hand through Yuffie’s hair. “You are safe, kiyomo.” Kisses her forehead and it’s all Yuffie can do not to lean into the touch. “But I am needed elsewhere. So lay still, go to sleep, and when you wake we’ll be back.”
Yuffie lets Mama tuck her in, sing her the lullaby she only breaks out now for the nightmares and stormy nights. Yuffie isn’t sure what this counts as; a storm is brewing but right now it tastes more like a nightmare, something insubstantial and distant that can be wished away. Hush-a-bye, hush-a-bye sweet baby mine. Another kiss, good-night this time, and she slips quietly out with Papa.
Yuffie watches the door; she’s tired but not sleepy and already she is intimately aware of the difference between those two things. She wishes, not for the first time, that she were older; that she were farther along in her training and capable of going out there and helping Mama and Papa and all their people. There are so few Wutai left, she thinks as she finally drifts off to sleep, we have to protect each other or nobody else will.
-
Yuffie hates her lessons with a dark passion. Other kids her age are allowed to go to a school together, play together, but not her. Yuffie has to suffer through private lessons with her sobo, her grandmother, and is only ever permitted to play with “approved” children - most of which fall under the delightful category of drooling babies.
Well, except for Yuri, but sometimes Yuffie thinks she may prefer the drooling babies. Yes, they almost always smell weird - dirty diapers or that unique baby smell that grown-ups seem to adore but makes Yuffie wrinkle her nose and try to toe the kid away from her - and they slobber over everything; shoes, people, themselves and they can’t even begin to appreciate all the mad ninja skills she was learning, really, her talents are wasted on this audience, but on the flip side they don’t tease her or steal her practice kunai or show her up in class and call her names.
Yuffie wishes there were more ninja lessons- they’d come to a screeching halt when the shadows had shown up, all her tutors becoming entwined in the unexpected war. She mourns the loss of learning fun things, even if those lessons included having to put up with Yuri, it would be better than this: history and How to Be a Proper Lady with Sobo. It’s not that Yuffie has anything against Sobo specifically; she guesses she loves the older woman - she is family after all - but Sobo has very specific idea of proper decorum, which usually means long hours being forced to kneel uncomfortably until Yuffie has lost all feeling in her feet and is forced to hobble from the room at day’s end.
Right now there is a map, huge and stretched clear across the table, all the details and names written in the Old Hand. Yuffie can’t read it, the lettering is too strange. Sobo tells her that this is the oldest remaining artifact of the Wutai people, something that Yuffie highly doubts (personally, she thinks Sobo is the oldest remaining artifact. Possibly the oldest anything on the planet and nobody is going to convince her otherwise.)
Sobo goes on (and on, and on) in her slow creak of a voice about the history of the Wutai; about their native island home and how they (tragically) lost it to earthquakes and volcanic activity a hundred years ago (something Yuffie is absolutely positive Sobo was there to witness), and how the survivors escaped, their clan decimated, and traveled far across the land before settling here, in the mountains they now called home.
Too focused on the tingling sensation in her feet and feeling amazingly dumb from the sheer amount of facts being stuffed uncaringly into her head -and really, when Yuffie is in charge school won’t start before ten am and won’t be required until you’re seventy- she blurts out, “Why?”
Sobo fixes her with a piercing gaze, her lips pinched and she snaps, “Why, what?”
“Why so far?” Yuffie taps the map, the expanse of green pasture and forests between the failed island and the mountain range. “What’s wrong with all this?”
Sobo gave her the very best Not Amused Face, an expression that Sobo’s facial features seemed to enjoy falling into naturally. “That land was already occupied.”
“So we couldn’t share?”
“Mankind does not often enjoy sharing what they perceive as theirs. Likewise, we Wutai are a proud people and would not abandon our heritage, which is precisely what the people of the Garden expected of us.”
All that translates in Yuffie’s head as: adults are stubborn and stupid and Yuffie could keep on doing without a real yard, thank you very much.
-
Dinner is another case of absentee parents for Yuffie. She sits, trapped across the table with Sobo. They are the only two people left in the hall, besides the guards stationed to protect them. One is too young, the other too old, to be useful in this war against the shadows. Sobo takes their dinners alone as an opportunity for more lessons, demands that Yuffie has perfect posture and does not squirm, which is nearly impossible to accomplish. Yuffie is not made to hold still, it goes against every fiber of her being, even more than trying to sleep with the light on.
With a sigh, Sobo finally motions for one of the guards. “Take Yuffie to her room, she is finished with supper.” And at Yuffie’s arguing squawk she snaps, “You learn control or you go hungry. These are your options.” She flicks her wrist towards the door, dismissing Yuffie and the guard.
Yuffie fumes all the way to her room, the guard silent at her side. She thinks she may very well hate Sobo more than anything. Definitely hates her more than Yuri. And if she were pressed to make a things-I-hate-most list, Sobo would probably quite easily tie with the shadows…
-
It’s official, Yuffie is absolutely one-hundred percent positive she is going to go crazy if she is forced to be cooped up any longer in the manor with Sobo. If she is taught one more boring dance, forced to recite any more poetry, or any of the other awful, boring things Sobo thinks are important and really the woman has a very skewed sense of propriety, if you asked Yuffie. Not that anyone ever has. If they did, she’d tell them that it’s important to learn how to be One with the Shadows and how to throw a shuriken so it sticks in someone’s face and not slice up your hand and how to act like you’re someone you’re really not.
But Papa is busy, and Mama is busy, and there are More Important Things to Do than deal with little Yuffie, so she is dumped on Sobo and everyone pretends that it’s for learning reasons and nobody involved enjoys the situation in the least.
Someone knocks at the door and Yuffie is beside herself with glee. At this point, she doesn’t care if it’s someone who has come to announce their imminent demise, any break is welcome.
“You may enter,” says Sobo. She seats herself at the cushion provided for greeting guests, folds herself gracefully down and manages to look perfectly regal and not at all like she had just spent the last half an hour trying to teach Yuffie a particularly awkward dance step that involved hopping in a circle on one foot.
Norio, the captain of the guards and second best ninja (second only to Papa!) pushes the door open and bows low to Sobo. “Forgive me for the intrusion, my lady. The Lady Kisaragi wishes to know if her daughter is available for tea in the gardens.”
The answer, as far as Yuffie is concernered, is “duh, of course!” and she has already jumped over the table before Sobo can even begin to fuss about proper decorum and is by Norio’s side in a flash.
Norio bows again to Sobo. “If the Lady Kisaragi will excuse us then, I shall escort the Lady Kisaragi to the Lady Kisaragi.” And Yuffie thinks it’s grand fun, giggles behind her hand when Norio gives her a discreet wink.
Sobo just sighs. “Fine, fine. Please, give my regards to my daughter, the Lady Kisaragi.” If Yuffie didn’t know any better, she’d think Sobo was playing along with Norio. She squints at her grandmother questioningly, but it doesn’t look like she’s been replaced with a pod person who has suddenly found a sense of humor.
Another bow from Norio. “As you wish, Lady Kisaragi. Come, Lady Kisaragi; your mother, the Lady Kisaragi awaits.”
Calling it a garden is a bit of a stretch of the imagination. There is a pavilion with a few well placed flowering shrubs but it’s nothing to sneeze at, as far as Yuffie is concerned. Still, it’s fresh air and sunshine and things that are not moldy old maps with people who are not Sobo.
Norio is one of the few adults Yuffie is willing to tolerate beyond compulsory politeness. He takes her to the garden and then feigns surprised dismay when it is empty of other people. “Oh well,” he says. “It seems we cannot locate your dear mother, we should not waste such a calm afternoon. What do you suggest we do, small lady?”
He slides her a sidelong glance and is completely unsurprised when she shouts, “Let’s train!”
“Your father says there is no time to train you. That it is more important for you to follow your mother and grandmother and learn how to turn a phrase gently and say things like what lovely weather we’re having in such a manner that what you really mean is you smell like a pig and nobody can mistake what you really mean. You do not think these things important?”
Yuffie makes a face at him. “That’s dumb. Why not just say what you mean?” Norio just laughs and pats her affectionately on the head.
“Tell me, Yuffie, what is the most important thing about being a ninja?”
She doesn’t even think about it, blurts, “Killing things dead!” and earns more laughter.
“Not quite, but I do appreciate your enthusiasm.” Norio squats down so he’s on eye level with her. “The most important thing about being a ninja is to make sure other people don’t know you’re a ninja.”
This, she does think about for quite a long minute, stops to chew on her lip while she processes it. “But that doesn’t sense. Everyone knows you’re a ninja.”
“This is a truth, everyone in Wutai. We are a small place, though, and when people from outside come to your father to seek help, the agents are sent in secret. Look at me, Yuffie, I am a big man. I smile and laugh deep, from the belly, and I am just clumsy enough. But you know me, you know what I can do. You do not doubt I am a ninja, do you?”
She gapes at him in mild horror. “Of course not, Norio! That would be dumb, you could kill me six ways to Tuesday!”
Norio ruffles her hair. “I could, but I never would. I am very fond of you, little heiress. You are much like me. You are loud and perhaps a little brash and the lessons give you trouble.” They both wince when they think of that last real lesson when Yuffie’s mother had to intervene and heal a rather impressive self-inflicted laceration on her daughter. “You must learn how to be just average enough so people do not suspect you, so when it comes time to kill them, or steal from them until they are left in their underclothes in the cold, they will not know who to point fingers at.”
They spend the afternoon practicing how to trip over nothing. There are many shrieks of laughter and pin-wheeling arms and grunts of not-quite-pretend pain. By the time sets they are both more than a little dirty.
Norio does finally bring her to her mother, who was clear on the other side of the compound all day, and bows low to her. “Forgive me, Lady Kisaragi. I had been so sure that you had said to meet you in the gardens.” His tone is the perfect amount of abashed servant and amused old friend.
Mama hides her smile behind her sleeve. “Not at all, friend Norio. The mistake was mine, I became so caught up in things this afternoon that I’m afraid I let my duties to my daughter slip me by.” Runs her hand through Yuffie’s hair. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, kiyomo, I would be honored to join you for dinner.”
It’s one of the last days Yuffie can remember being happy.
-
Lunchtime, Yuri is over for a visit. It is painfully quiet in the dining hall, the meal supervised by Sobo again and Yuffie focuses on the food on her plate. There is the gentle clack of utensils as the three people present tuck wordlessly into their meal. It’s such a peaceful setting that Yuffie is almost asleep when the screaming starts.
The noise is sudden and unexpected enough that even Sobo twitches in her seat. A guard rushes in, bows hastily to Sobo and stutters out, “My lady, the darkness is attacking, please stay here.” and slams the door as he exits.
Yuffie feels a chill scratch down her back. Wutai is under attack. The shadows are here. Sobo makes a strange little noise and says, “Finish your lunch, children.” Yuffie looks at the rice on her plate. It’s still warm and moments ago it was so delicious but suddenly she’s not hungry anymore.
There is more screaming, the sound of fists beating against the walls. please, oh please someone, voices cut short mid panic. Yuffie stares hard at the table, traces the whorls in the wood with her eyes.
Yuri stands, slamming the chopsticks in his hand to the table. Sobo hisses at him to sit back down and he shouts, legitimately shouts at Sobo and it’s so surreal that Yuffie jumps in place. “Something needs to be done,” he snaps, pulling a kunai free from beneath his pant leg. “Stay here, Yuffie. Protect your sobo and I’ll protect both of you.”
He runs through the door, taking care to make sure he locks it behind him, before Yuffie can yell at him or protest or tell him he’s a big stupid-head and what does he know about protecting anybody but she can’t, he’s not there. He’s outside with the shadows and the panic and the pain.
Yuffie doesn’t see him again.
There is a crescendo of screams - wild and animalistic - and the sudden, sharp tang of magic in the air and then, there is nothing. “Yuffie!” Sobo leans over the table and all but drags Yuffie to her, clutches the girl against her chest and Yuffie realizes it’s the first time she’s ever been held by Sobo. It’s a strange experience, especially in this setting but she closes her eyes and rests her head against Sobo’s shoulder and breathes her in. She smells a little like Mama, lavender and chamomile and mint and a little like the lotion she rubs into her joints at the end of each day. The door rattles in its frame and they wait together, the diplomat that’s never raised a weapon in her life and the little ninja girl who is unable to protect herself in this moment.
It’s Papa who enters, locks eyes with his daughter and she sees something broken in his gaze. “Yuffie,” he says and she can’t remember the last time he actually said her name like that. Just Yuffie, no affectionate kiyomo, there is an impossible weight in his breath and Yuffie pinches herself, trying to wake up from this nightmare. “Go to your room; take only what you can carry. Be practical, Yuffie. No toys. I’ll return here to fetch you.” Tosses a pack at her feet and Papa doesn’t even give her a chance to find her words again take what for where before he disappears back down the hall.
Yuffie has to pack her life into a knapsack that fits on her back. It’s not very big and the first stuffed animal she shoves into it pretty much takes up all the available room It’s with a dejected sigh and heavy heart that she frees him from his prison and pets his fuzzy snout affectionately. “It’s okay,” she tells it, “I’ll be back for you, promise. We can’t be going that far.” She kisses his snout and tucks him back into her bed.
She packs clean underwear, because that seems like the kind of thing Sobo would approve of - she’s always snapping enough about Yuffie wearing clean things and staying tidy - and a change of shirt, the green one, and the ratty old shoes that are too comfortable to be doing their job correctly (her little toe peeps out a tiny tear in the side.) Yuffie pauses in the doorway, considers all the things she’s leaving behind. She doubles back to her dresser, grabs the necklace Mama gave her. It’s sparkly and delicate and too grown up for such a little girl, but she buries it into the bottom of her pack and feels better for having it with her.
Sobo is still in the dining hall and Papa is with her now too, they’re having some sort of conversation, not yelling but the words are strong, pulsing with a kind of quiet, controlled anger. Papa calls Sobo all kinds of Not Nice Names that Yuffie pretends not to hear, and Sobo returns the favor with two words. “Foolish man.”
Papa’s whole body is tense and tight and he won’t meet Yuffie’s questioning glance even as he stalks past her. “Yuffie, come.” He does not look behind him.
Yuffie does, walks with her head craned around the whole time as Sobo and the room and then the whole house disappear behind them. “Papa, where are we going?”
He does not answer. There is a group waiting at the city gates - they turn towards Yuffie and Papa with a spark of something, of hope, in their eyes that is quickly extinguished. There aren’t many people; it’s a small fraction of the whole population of the village. People are injured, some bleeding, most crying and Yuffie can taste the mourning in the air.
Papa does not offer words of encouragement; instead, he takes in the remains of his people and gives a curt nod. “Move quickly.” He grabs Yuffie’s hand and tugs her after him. They keep a brisk pace down the mountain-side, they do not stop to rest even when the children (and, Yuffie is ashamed to admit that this includes herself) cry from exhaustion. They move straight through the night, following the river down.
Yuffie can’t remember the last time she was awake this long; her whole body is numb and her stomach has long since stopped growling in hunger. There was a brief dinner, consisting of dried meat and hard bread, but it was too little after such a long day.
Papa is still holding onto Yuffie’s hand; they’ve switched sides and she thinks that he might be the only thing that is keeping her moving. He looks down at her; she can just make out his smile in the pale moonlight. “Look, kiyomo, have I ever taught you about the stars?” She shakes her head, focuses on his voice. Papa scoops her up, rests her against his hip and points out a cluster of stars. “See there, just above that tree? Do you see how it connects into a curved line? That’s the guardian dragon, Fuku Riu, it is always good luck when you find him.”
Yuffie doesn’t see, not really. As far as she’s concerned it’s all a jumble of blinking lights that seem to go off as soon as she tries to focus on one. But Papa’s voice is rumbling and low and she can feel it through her whole body so she listens and nods where she’s supposed to as she drifts off to sleep.
“And there, kiyomo, is the warrior Tadanori. If you can find him, he will always help you find your way home.”
It’s funny, she thinks on the cusp of slumber, how Papa pretends they still have a home to find.
-
It’s three more days to Radiant Garden, their end destination, only revealed one and a half days into the trip. Papa admits it in the grudging voice of the defeated, that he’s been in communications with the Lord Ansem and the Garden has agreed to take them in. “They are the nearest territory that is willing to assist us.”
They stay close to the river, and nobody talks much, not even Yuffie. She looks at the faces that are left of her home, feels the gaping hole where everyone else should be.
She stops asking for her mother after the first day. Papa won’t say anything about it, which almost makes it worse, and what little sleep Yuffie is able to grasp is plagued by nightmares of the shadows ripping Mama’s heart out and turning her into one of them.
They walk at night. It’s harder to see, but everyone is alert, which makes up for the danger. At least this way, the threat of the shadows is decreased. Attacks during the day have not happened since that last fateful moment in Wutai.
Yuffie still can’t sleep in the daytime; she exists in a constant state of exhaustion and stumbles a lot and wants to cry almost all the time. But she doesn’t, because almost everyone else is crying and someone needs to have dry eyes other than Papa. So she shivers and swallows the sobs and blinks back the hot tears and stumbles along after Papa.
By the time they finally tumble upon the city gates, everyone is smelly and beyond exhausted and well on their way to starving. There is a man waiting for them just inside the city. He is tall, statuesque, and Yuffie has seen enough dignitaries from Elsewhere to be able to tell he’s the guy in charge. The fact that he’s flanked on either side by several guards doesn’t hurt, either.
Papa tugs Yuffie after him. “Come, kiyomo.” Makes her trip her way forward alongside him. The tall man bows to Papa, a deep perfunctory motion. Papa taps Yuffie’s shoulder and they both bow in return. “Yuffie, this is Lord Ansem of the Radiant Gardens. Lord Ansem, my daughter, the young Lady Yuffie.” He pauses to motion to the group behind them, “And the remains of our people.”
Lord Ansem spreads his arms and steps to the side, smiles at the Wutai and says, “We mourn the loss of your kinsfolk for you, but know that you are welcome to our Garden and here, we hope, you may find a new home.”
Lord Ansem walks with them to the place that is supposed to be their new dwellings. Yuffie isn’t impressed; she can smell the fresh paint and saw dust and even from a distance the buildings have a slapdash look to them. The houses are separated from the rest of the Garden by a little white picket fence, light poles strung up at even intervals casting a sickly yellow sheen to everything. Yuffie feels a chill down her back and thinks automatically of the pens they herded sheep into.
Lord Ansem says, “I apologize, friend. We were not expecting you quite so soon and the building process was finished with all expediency. Unfortunately, they do seem to lack a certain charm.” He makes a motion with his hand and his guards step forward, passing out badges to the adults. “There are kitchens throughout the city set up to assist you; these will let them know that you are our friends in need.” He places a hand on Papa’s shoulder. “Settle in, friend, and then come see me. Dilan here will wait and escort you.”
Yuffie thinks if he says the word friend one more time she’s going to be forced to kick him in the shin.
There are more than enough shanties for everyone. Papa confers with some of the other adults. Families are consolidated and reshaped; and nobody wants to be alone. Everyone moves as a unit into the middle of the compound where they separate, slowly and cautiously, into different homes. Papa and Yuffie take the one in the very center, and Yuffie can see everyone else flipping lights on in their units from her porch.
The houses have been furnished sparsely and everything is obviously second (or maybe even fourth) handed. There is a couch in the first room, an ugly old green thing that smells like tobacco and sporting a smiley faced tear in its middle cushion. There is a table and chair set in the dining area and kitchen combo and a few chipped pieces of dishware lined up on the counter. The whole place reeks of a desperate homey-ness but the walls are brightly white-washed and everything echoes oddly and there are no soft tapestries for Yuffie to run through her fingers.
Papa looks almost as lost as Yuffie is feeling, stares around unseeing and says, “Go take a bath and ready yourself for bed. I’ll be back soon.” Like he’s forgotten that she’s still so little and has always had Mama or Sobo to help her with things.
Yuffie’s first attempt at running her own bath ends with water so cold her teeth clack together the whole time. She presses the bar of soap into her hair, her face, every place she can reach and tries to remember how Mama would wash her (she forgets the spot behind her ear). When she’s done she has to go looking for a towel, leaves a trail of water all over the house and slips on the floor (only once). Yuffie pulls on the spare shirt she had packed and the clean underwear; curls up on the couch and waits for Papa to return.
-
They have been in the Garden for a week, give or take. No one has ventured very far from their given housing units - all the same size, shape, number of rooms and still smelling like they were just put up. Yuffie has said good-bye to Papa nearly every morning. He, apparently, has Very Important Things to do with the Lord Ansem - small daughter’s emotional well-being be damned.
Yuffie spends her days wandering the small, fenced-off housing area. She stays away from the fence, where locals aren’t beyond standing near and gawking like the Wutai are some exotic species of cattle (again, she thinks of the sheep pens). Some days, she peeks into naked windows and watches the families inside: huddled together in the main room most of the time, holding each other and crying and praying. Yuffie doesn’t disturb them, just watches and drinks in all the familiar features from Home.
Once in a while, she lets herself wonder how Yuri died.
Yuffie wishes she could sleep, but she’s become something of an insomniac at the ripe old age of six. She spends the nights staring up at the ceiling in the small bedroom she shares with Papa - bare mattress on the floor, a thin blanket stretched over the two of them, and Papa’s heavy snores sawing at the air. Yuffie misses her home, her bed, even her stupid routine of Wake Up Early and Breakfast and Exercise and Morning Tea and Everything That Follows.
Sometimes she misses Sobo, wishes she could take back all the mean thoughts she ever had about her.
All the time she misses Mama; tries desperately not to think about it; fails miserably.
-
Three students in Royal Academy uniforms drop by one day. They pass out vouchers to the adults for restaurants, the market, and even a boutique. All the places have volunteered services to the Wutai (and here, is the first time Yuffie hears the word refugee), as a welcome and a small balm on their souls. The students have another surprise, a daycare camp for the children. It’s an optional service but all the grown-ups encourage the kids to go, see something beyond their little corner of the world. The students gather them up in a tight little group and walk with them up to the castle, where the camp is set up.
The students introduce themselves - there’s a Zell with a manic smile and a Zack with kind eyes and an Aerith, the only girl in the group with the longest hair Yuffie’s ever seen - and take care to try and remember the children’s names. They seem nice, for the most part, and are more than willing to go along with the billion questions Yuffie asks.
“How come your uniforms have different colors if you go to the same school?”
“They tell us which divisions everyone specializes in,” says Zack. He points to Zell’s collar. “See, his is yellow. That means he’s in the melee class.”
At Yuffie’s confused expression, Aerith explains, “That means he likes to hit people with his fists.” She sticks her tongue out when Zell tugs at her ponytail.
Zack plows on, talking over the other two. “And mine is dark blue. I’m in the weapons class.”
“The stabby class, to be exact,” pipes in Zell.
“Is there a class for ninjas?”
The teenagers pause and look at each other. “I don’t believe there is,” says Aerith.
Yuffie frowns. “That’s dumb there should be. And you should all be ninjas. We’re the best.”
Laughter follows, but it’s the affectionate kind, and Zack ruffles Yuffie’s hair affectionately. “We’ll keep that in mind, kid.”
Lord Ansem has offered a whole wing of his castle to this day-camp thing. There are various stations set up: for dress up, crafts, baking, and even a little puppet theater in the back. Aerith heads up a little garden center, where you can try different veggies and learn how to grow flowers.
There’s also a little caged off area full of puppies. The girl there, Rinoa, explains that these puppies have also lost their homes, but they can still be happy. She encourages everyone to play together, passes a soft, squirmy puppy to Yuffie.
Yuffie likes it there. Rinoa doesn’t constantly ask how she’s liking Radiant Garden and lets Yuffie ask all the questions instead.
“What are their names?”
“That one is Donatello, his brother over there is Raphael and his sister here Mikeal and the sleepy one is Leonardo.”
“Where’s their mommy?” Yuffie watches Rinoa carefully. She may be young, but she has an Idea and wonders what type of person Rinoa will turn out to be.
Rinoa scratches one of the puppies behind his ear while she considers her words. “There was an accident, and their mommy didn’t make it. But someone found the puppies and we were able to save them.” She looks at Yuffie, makes sure the younger girl is paying attention. “We can’t replace their mommy, but we can let them know that they’re loved.”
-
Yuffie weaves throughout the rooms. The people running this camp had invited some local kids to come play, to help the displaced children mingle, and most of them are nice. But some of the older ones are awful. They keep sneering and spitting that word they’ve been calling everyone from Wutai. Refugees, like it’s a bad thing, like they should be punished for the loss of their home. Refugees. Yuffie can’t stand it anymore; he has to get away before she throws one of the colorful blocks the Smaller Kids are playing with and gets in Trouble.
She sneaks out into the hallway; it’s almost depressingly easy, really. There are too many kids now, with the local yokels milling about, and not enough supervision and suddenly she’s swallowed by the quiet and the expansiveness. Yuffie picks a direction at random and starts walking. There are doors - many, many doors and she stops to try them on a whim. Most all of them are locked, for these she begins to make up stories to herself about what lies beyond.
This one hides a room made entirely of gingerbread; the table is solid chocolate and the window is clear, pressed sugar. Behind that one is a ferocious animal that grows seven times larger and can eat a whole city in one bite. That one leads to a tower where a princess is being held captive by an Evil Dragon. Yuffie considers picking that lock for a moment and going to rescue the princess; that has got to be worth some serious cred, but the sound of bright laughter distracts her.
Farther ahead there is a set of double doors and the musty smell of books wafting through into the hallway. The sound of that laughter, a child’s shrieking giggle, is coming from inside and curiosity gets the better of Yuffie. She pulls on one of the doors, finds it unlocked, and enters silently. Yuffie finds herself surrounded by tall, imposing book-cases that are positively brimming with various volumes, the titles of which yuffie can't pronounce.
She pulls herself onto the bookcase, scales the shelves easily enough and man, it’s like this place was made for her: everything is the perfect size and width and she clamors up quietly enough, stands at the top of the bookcase and surveys her temporary kingdom.
There is a voice, not the source of the laughter but perhaps the catalyst to it, speaking in the universal tone of One Telling a Story. Yuffie listens with half an ear as she scuttles along, moves quickly to hide in the shadows so she can stare down, unseen.
It’s an old woman, bent down to a little girl as she makes herself part of the story: twists her face into expressions and adjusts the timbre of her voice for different characters and uses wild arm movements to capture the action she’s describing.
The little girl laughs. “Again, Grandma!”
Her gandma chuckles in response. “Not that one again, Kairi. How about a new one? Like, the story about the first rabbit?”
The girl, Kairi, makes a little squeak of delight and Yuffie can see from her vantage point that she’s clinging to a stuffed bunny.
Grandma starts. “Once upon a time, the children in the sky were very bored. Their mother finally suggested they go play with the snow, only the children balled the snow up and began throwing it. Who would have thought, the snow fell through the sky floor! And when the snow landed on the ground, it kept bouncing and soon grew warm and soft and grew legs, so it could bounce better and a little mouth so it could taste things better, and long ears so it could hear the world better and it became a rabbit.”
Yuffie can’t handle it; she’s heard this story enough to know how it really goes, jumps down to stand in front of Kairi and her grandma and with more than just a little impertinence, shouts, “that’s not how it goes!” She makes a point of correcting all the mistakes. “They were bored because the sun was up, so they couldn’t twinkle the stars and they couldn’t play the thunder drums because they had beaten all the thunder out of them. And when they threw the snow-balls they kept bouncing around and fell through the sky floor and the twinkle holes in the stars and they cried to their momma who tried to stop the snow with her fire torch, but it just scorched the snow’s tail. That’s why bunnies aren’t all white!” Her face is flushed; she’d said it all in as few breaths as possible. The little girl is staring at her, mouth open and bunny slack in her hand, and her grandma begins clapping, which was not what Yuffie was expecting at all.
“Of course, silly me. I had it nearly completely wrong, didn’t I?”
The girl, Kairi, doesn’t even hesitate, runs over and grabs Yuffie’s hand. “Tell another one!”
When Aerith comes running through the library - face flushed and looking more than a little harried, whole body sagging with relief when she sees Yuffie -she sighs, “There you are!” Everyone in the library is more than a little startled to see how late it suddenly seems to be.
Grandma - because over the course of several hours that’s just who she became with a fond, “just call me Grandma, everyone does!”- makes an executive decision. “Miss Gainsbourgh, will you kindly do a favor for me and locate this charming child’s father? I believe you should find him with our Lord Ansem, and let him know that her company is most desired by Kairi and myself.”
This is, of course, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Kairi is wee and small and drinks in every word of Yuffie’s stories; of which there are Many and they are Great.
Kairi carries her stuffed bunny with her everywhere. It’s soft, a pale peach, with blue eyes and the scent of vanilla. Yuffie tells her that it’s cute; it’s a good fit for such a little kid, and she tries not to think of her own carbuncle, left abandoned in the ravaged remains of Wutai. Bun-Bun stays with Kairi at all times, she pets him lovingly and tells Yuffie, “He’s from my mama.”
Part Two
Word Count: 39,182
Genre: Hurt, Friendship, Genfic
Summary: It's about growing up. It's about living as a constant refugee, it's about shaping a family and what that word ends up meaning. It's about living as a warrior. In short, it's a Yuffie piece.
Acknowledgment: This was written for the khbigbang challenge, for which I am extremely thankful. This is a fic I've wanted to write for a long time but never got around to motivating myself to do so. It would probably still be sitting in my head if it weren't for this comm. Also, I HAVE ARTS YOU GUYS! The lovely hiza-chan (or phantasmik) picked my story to Art for and she went above and beyond the call of duty, she has also been SUPER enthusiastic about this beast and as such, has helped keep me enthusiastic. I'm not going to lie, for a while there I wanted to quit but when I thought of all the hard work she was putting in for it too, I just couldn't. Please check it out here but probably after you read as the video can be considered a little spoiler-y? I'll post another link at the end.
And a billion trillion thanks goes out to lettersandliars who acted as my cheerleader, my sounding board, and my beta and managed to edit about half of this beast in the last 24 hours before it was due. I can never thank her enough.
All Through the Circling Years
Yuffie lies awake in her bed, tongue prodding at the empty place in her mouth where a tooth had been just a day ago. Papa tells her it’s okay, that a new one will grow in its place but Yuffie doesn’t like it; she’s never lost a tooth before and with everything else going on it just feels like a bad omen. She doesn’t want a new tooth. She liked that one just fine. It was a good tooth, solid, dependable.
She stares at the light overhead, listens to the quiet buzz the bulb makes and prods at her tooth-hole again. It’s sore and raw and she thinks she can taste blood now… which is probably a bad thing and she knows she should be sleeping but that stupid light is just so bright.
It makes the room feel too warm; her eyes want to stay open. No light means night time, means sleep time. This is all wrong and unnatural and she can’t stand it. Papa says it’ll be alright, that he’s going to fix it so they can turn the lights off at night again, but he also told her a new tooth was going to grow in her mouth and that’s just dumb.
Shut up, brain. Shut up and go to sleep. It’s night time. Sleepy-bye time so night night, brain- she growls in frustration and rolls over to bury her face in her pillow. No good. Another sleepless ight. Yuffie itches to get up and turn the light off- most of the kids in her village are afraid of the dark, which is also dumb. Yuffie couldn’t imagine being afraid of the dark, and not just because Papa is training her to be a ninja and says that nighttime is the ninja’s time. She just thinks there’s something comforting about the dark, about not knowing how far you are from a wall or a door or a cliff or a knife.
Something in the air shifts and Yuffie sits up, clutching her pillow. The very texture of the air is different, wrong, a kind of oily blackness and then she sees it: the aberration. The reason for all the lights being on at midnight. It stares at her with lamp-bright eyes, twitching in place and looking horribly out of place in her colorful room. It locks eyes with her, all inky dark and horrible and lunges for her, claws catching in the carpet as it propels itself forward.
Yuffie has barely enough time to suck in air for a scream. She’s not even a novice ninja yet, not allowed anything sharp on her person outside of class. She has time to think - how horrible to die defenseless- and she screams as loud as her tiny lungs allow, “PAPA!
The door whips open and a kunai is sent flying directly toward the thing. It explodes in a cloud of black dust with a quiet hiss, leaving a stain of shadow on Yuffie’s floor.
“Papa!” she whines. “It was in my room. You promised, Papa, you said if I left the light on, it wouldn’t get in here. The light is on and it. Got. In.” Yuffie fixed her father with a Very Unhappy Look. “You promised.”
Papa looks tired as he trudges into his daughter’s room. “They’re getting braver,” he says, absently picking up his kunai and wiping it clean against his pant leg. Papa regards Yuffie wearily; it’s a look that speaks of love and concern and restrained panic. Yuffie desperately wants him to say something. Even if it’s something inane and pointless and obviously a lie, he’s supposed to lie. He’s supposed to promise to make it better- he is her papa and that’s just how it’s done.
Instead he says; “Come, kiyomo, you will sleep in our room tonight.” He holds the door open and waits. Part of Yuffie wants him to come to her, to pick her up and coddle her and tell her the sweet lies in a quiet, concerned voice. But Papa is a warrior and a leader and then a father. Yuffie wonders if either of her parents will actually be sleeping, or if this move is more for her own peace of mind. She has no indication that her parents’ room is any safer than hers now.
But she just mumbles, “kay,” and slips off the edge of the bed and if Papa notices how quiet she is, he does not comment on it.
It’ll be a long night, Yuffie thinks, no matter where she pretends to sleep.
She wants to bring a stuffed doll with her, the carbuncle maybe, or the moogle. Something for her to cling to as morning crept into the world that would not move away from her or try to hurt her, but she was too sleepy for decision-making, and too afraid Papa would lose patience with her and leave her behind. So Yuffie leaves, trailing behind her father into the hallway, empty-handed.
All the lights are on; Yuffie imagines she can feel the strained confusion of the bulbs, wondering about this peculiar long shift they are forced to endure. She wonders if they’re as tired as she is about this whole situation, how bad they must long to sleep. Papa is talking again and Yuffie makes herself pay attention. It’s hard; their footsteps echo down the hallway and make her twitch all over.
“-replaced in the morning.” He eyes Yuffie carefully and, realizing she wasn’t paying attention, reiterates. “Your guard has been lost in this attack from the creatures. He will be replaced in the morning.” He fixes his gaze straight ahead again. “There is nothing to fear, kiyomo.”
The guards in front of Papa’s chambers hold their positions, not even acknowledging their lord as Papa and Yuffie slide into the room.
Mama and Papa’s room is Yuffie’s favorite place to be. Mama collects colorful silk hangings that are draped all over the walls in every color imaginable. Mama says they tell a story, of the rise of the Wutai clan, and often points out the carefully embroidered pictures but Yuffie just likes to touch the cool cloth to her face and inhale their scent. They smell a little like Mama - a sure sign that she enjoys touching them, too - and a little like the past: that strange musty smell that only comes from something that is very old. It’s an inner room: there are no windows to deter assassins sneaking in, but even so Mama has arranged lamps in such a way that it’s pleasant to be in; soft lighting that doesn’t make Yuffie’s eyes water but provides enough cover that there are no shadows to be seen.
Yuffie brightens; Mama’s actually here, it seems like it’s been days since she’s seen her. Mama is bent over her dressing table, tucking something into the sleeve of her dress. She peeks at Yuffie through the curtain of inky black hair and smiles. It’s all Yuffie needs to launch herself across the room, and Mama catches her up in a quick embrace, squeezes her tight as Yuffie breathes her in. Mama smells like lavender, mint, and chamomile; all part of a healer’s arsenal, all things used for soothing.
Mama can do more than just sooth; she has magic running through her and can heal people’s hurt. She tries to teach Yuffie, explained that a healer’s apprenticeship must start when she is very young, but Yuffie can’t grasp the magic like Mama can. She tried, still tries when no one is watching, and the magic is there but it makes her eyes cross and her breath come short. Mama says her mind isn’t still enough, that the elements are too unbalanced in her.
“You have too much air and fire and water and it makes the earth crumble at the edges.” She touches Yuffie on the chin, makes her tilt her head up and smiles down at her. “This is not a bad thing, kiyomo. It just means you are meant for a different path.”
Yuffie had decided that if she can’t be like Mama, she’d do the next logical thing and become a ninja, like Papa. Neither of her parents were particularly thrilled with this decision and tried to stall her training, tried to find something else for her to become interested in, insisted time and time again that the art of the ninja was not suitable for a young lady. But Yuffie has persisted for as long as she can remember (which, at the ripe old age of six, is admittedly not terribly long) and Papa finally relented with the stipulation that she never cries about how hard the lessons are. It’s only been a few months, and it has been a very very hard few months, but Yuffie has never cried.
Here and now, Mama brushes her hand through Yuffie’s hair. “You are safe, kiyomo.” Kisses her forehead and it’s all Yuffie can do not to lean into the touch. “But I am needed elsewhere. So lay still, go to sleep, and when you wake we’ll be back.”
Yuffie lets Mama tuck her in, sing her the lullaby she only breaks out now for the nightmares and stormy nights. Yuffie isn’t sure what this counts as; a storm is brewing but right now it tastes more like a nightmare, something insubstantial and distant that can be wished away. Hush-a-bye, hush-a-bye sweet baby mine. Another kiss, good-night this time, and she slips quietly out with Papa.
Yuffie watches the door; she’s tired but not sleepy and already she is intimately aware of the difference between those two things. She wishes, not for the first time, that she were older; that she were farther along in her training and capable of going out there and helping Mama and Papa and all their people. There are so few Wutai left, she thinks as she finally drifts off to sleep, we have to protect each other or nobody else will.
-
Yuffie hates her lessons with a dark passion. Other kids her age are allowed to go to a school together, play together, but not her. Yuffie has to suffer through private lessons with her sobo, her grandmother, and is only ever permitted to play with “approved” children - most of which fall under the delightful category of drooling babies.
Well, except for Yuri, but sometimes Yuffie thinks she may prefer the drooling babies. Yes, they almost always smell weird - dirty diapers or that unique baby smell that grown-ups seem to adore but makes Yuffie wrinkle her nose and try to toe the kid away from her - and they slobber over everything; shoes, people, themselves and they can’t even begin to appreciate all the mad ninja skills she was learning, really, her talents are wasted on this audience, but on the flip side they don’t tease her or steal her practice kunai or show her up in class and call her names.
Yuffie wishes there were more ninja lessons- they’d come to a screeching halt when the shadows had shown up, all her tutors becoming entwined in the unexpected war. She mourns the loss of learning fun things, even if those lessons included having to put up with Yuri, it would be better than this: history and How to Be a Proper Lady with Sobo. It’s not that Yuffie has anything against Sobo specifically; she guesses she loves the older woman - she is family after all - but Sobo has very specific idea of proper decorum, which usually means long hours being forced to kneel uncomfortably until Yuffie has lost all feeling in her feet and is forced to hobble from the room at day’s end.
Right now there is a map, huge and stretched clear across the table, all the details and names written in the Old Hand. Yuffie can’t read it, the lettering is too strange. Sobo tells her that this is the oldest remaining artifact of the Wutai people, something that Yuffie highly doubts (personally, she thinks Sobo is the oldest remaining artifact. Possibly the oldest anything on the planet and nobody is going to convince her otherwise.)
Sobo goes on (and on, and on) in her slow creak of a voice about the history of the Wutai; about their native island home and how they (tragically) lost it to earthquakes and volcanic activity a hundred years ago (something Yuffie is absolutely positive Sobo was there to witness), and how the survivors escaped, their clan decimated, and traveled far across the land before settling here, in the mountains they now called home.
Too focused on the tingling sensation in her feet and feeling amazingly dumb from the sheer amount of facts being stuffed uncaringly into her head -and really, when Yuffie is in charge school won’t start before ten am and won’t be required until you’re seventy- she blurts out, “Why?”
Sobo fixes her with a piercing gaze, her lips pinched and she snaps, “Why, what?”
“Why so far?” Yuffie taps the map, the expanse of green pasture and forests between the failed island and the mountain range. “What’s wrong with all this?”
Sobo gave her the very best Not Amused Face, an expression that Sobo’s facial features seemed to enjoy falling into naturally. “That land was already occupied.”
“So we couldn’t share?”
“Mankind does not often enjoy sharing what they perceive as theirs. Likewise, we Wutai are a proud people and would not abandon our heritage, which is precisely what the people of the Garden expected of us.”
All that translates in Yuffie’s head as: adults are stubborn and stupid and Yuffie could keep on doing without a real yard, thank you very much.
-
Dinner is another case of absentee parents for Yuffie. She sits, trapped across the table with Sobo. They are the only two people left in the hall, besides the guards stationed to protect them. One is too young, the other too old, to be useful in this war against the shadows. Sobo takes their dinners alone as an opportunity for more lessons, demands that Yuffie has perfect posture and does not squirm, which is nearly impossible to accomplish. Yuffie is not made to hold still, it goes against every fiber of her being, even more than trying to sleep with the light on.
With a sigh, Sobo finally motions for one of the guards. “Take Yuffie to her room, she is finished with supper.” And at Yuffie’s arguing squawk she snaps, “You learn control or you go hungry. These are your options.” She flicks her wrist towards the door, dismissing Yuffie and the guard.
Yuffie fumes all the way to her room, the guard silent at her side. She thinks she may very well hate Sobo more than anything. Definitely hates her more than Yuri. And if she were pressed to make a things-I-hate-most list, Sobo would probably quite easily tie with the shadows…
-
It’s official, Yuffie is absolutely one-hundred percent positive she is going to go crazy if she is forced to be cooped up any longer in the manor with Sobo. If she is taught one more boring dance, forced to recite any more poetry, or any of the other awful, boring things Sobo thinks are important and really the woman has a very skewed sense of propriety, if you asked Yuffie. Not that anyone ever has. If they did, she’d tell them that it’s important to learn how to be One with the Shadows and how to throw a shuriken so it sticks in someone’s face and not slice up your hand and how to act like you’re someone you’re really not.
But Papa is busy, and Mama is busy, and there are More Important Things to Do than deal with little Yuffie, so she is dumped on Sobo and everyone pretends that it’s for learning reasons and nobody involved enjoys the situation in the least.
Someone knocks at the door and Yuffie is beside herself with glee. At this point, she doesn’t care if it’s someone who has come to announce their imminent demise, any break is welcome.
“You may enter,” says Sobo. She seats herself at the cushion provided for greeting guests, folds herself gracefully down and manages to look perfectly regal and not at all like she had just spent the last half an hour trying to teach Yuffie a particularly awkward dance step that involved hopping in a circle on one foot.
Norio, the captain of the guards and second best ninja (second only to Papa!) pushes the door open and bows low to Sobo. “Forgive me for the intrusion, my lady. The Lady Kisaragi wishes to know if her daughter is available for tea in the gardens.”
The answer, as far as Yuffie is concernered, is “duh, of course!” and she has already jumped over the table before Sobo can even begin to fuss about proper decorum and is by Norio’s side in a flash.
Norio bows again to Sobo. “If the Lady Kisaragi will excuse us then, I shall escort the Lady Kisaragi to the Lady Kisaragi.” And Yuffie thinks it’s grand fun, giggles behind her hand when Norio gives her a discreet wink.
Sobo just sighs. “Fine, fine. Please, give my regards to my daughter, the Lady Kisaragi.” If Yuffie didn’t know any better, she’d think Sobo was playing along with Norio. She squints at her grandmother questioningly, but it doesn’t look like she’s been replaced with a pod person who has suddenly found a sense of humor.
Another bow from Norio. “As you wish, Lady Kisaragi. Come, Lady Kisaragi; your mother, the Lady Kisaragi awaits.”
Calling it a garden is a bit of a stretch of the imagination. There is a pavilion with a few well placed flowering shrubs but it’s nothing to sneeze at, as far as Yuffie is concerned. Still, it’s fresh air and sunshine and things that are not moldy old maps with people who are not Sobo.
Norio is one of the few adults Yuffie is willing to tolerate beyond compulsory politeness. He takes her to the garden and then feigns surprised dismay when it is empty of other people. “Oh well,” he says. “It seems we cannot locate your dear mother, we should not waste such a calm afternoon. What do you suggest we do, small lady?”
He slides her a sidelong glance and is completely unsurprised when she shouts, “Let’s train!”
“Your father says there is no time to train you. That it is more important for you to follow your mother and grandmother and learn how to turn a phrase gently and say things like what lovely weather we’re having in such a manner that what you really mean is you smell like a pig and nobody can mistake what you really mean. You do not think these things important?”
Yuffie makes a face at him. “That’s dumb. Why not just say what you mean?” Norio just laughs and pats her affectionately on the head.
“Tell me, Yuffie, what is the most important thing about being a ninja?”
She doesn’t even think about it, blurts, “Killing things dead!” and earns more laughter.
“Not quite, but I do appreciate your enthusiasm.” Norio squats down so he’s on eye level with her. “The most important thing about being a ninja is to make sure other people don’t know you’re a ninja.”
This, she does think about for quite a long minute, stops to chew on her lip while she processes it. “But that doesn’t sense. Everyone knows you’re a ninja.”
“This is a truth, everyone in Wutai. We are a small place, though, and when people from outside come to your father to seek help, the agents are sent in secret. Look at me, Yuffie, I am a big man. I smile and laugh deep, from the belly, and I am just clumsy enough. But you know me, you know what I can do. You do not doubt I am a ninja, do you?”
She gapes at him in mild horror. “Of course not, Norio! That would be dumb, you could kill me six ways to Tuesday!”
Norio ruffles her hair. “I could, but I never would. I am very fond of you, little heiress. You are much like me. You are loud and perhaps a little brash and the lessons give you trouble.” They both wince when they think of that last real lesson when Yuffie’s mother had to intervene and heal a rather impressive self-inflicted laceration on her daughter. “You must learn how to be just average enough so people do not suspect you, so when it comes time to kill them, or steal from them until they are left in their underclothes in the cold, they will not know who to point fingers at.”
They spend the afternoon practicing how to trip over nothing. There are many shrieks of laughter and pin-wheeling arms and grunts of not-quite-pretend pain. By the time sets they are both more than a little dirty.
Norio does finally bring her to her mother, who was clear on the other side of the compound all day, and bows low to her. “Forgive me, Lady Kisaragi. I had been so sure that you had said to meet you in the gardens.” His tone is the perfect amount of abashed servant and amused old friend.
Mama hides her smile behind her sleeve. “Not at all, friend Norio. The mistake was mine, I became so caught up in things this afternoon that I’m afraid I let my duties to my daughter slip me by.” Runs her hand through Yuffie’s hair. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, kiyomo, I would be honored to join you for dinner.”
It’s one of the last days Yuffie can remember being happy.
-
Lunchtime, Yuri is over for a visit. It is painfully quiet in the dining hall, the meal supervised by Sobo again and Yuffie focuses on the food on her plate. There is the gentle clack of utensils as the three people present tuck wordlessly into their meal. It’s such a peaceful setting that Yuffie is almost asleep when the screaming starts.
The noise is sudden and unexpected enough that even Sobo twitches in her seat. A guard rushes in, bows hastily to Sobo and stutters out, “My lady, the darkness is attacking, please stay here.” and slams the door as he exits.
Yuffie feels a chill scratch down her back. Wutai is under attack. The shadows are here. Sobo makes a strange little noise and says, “Finish your lunch, children.” Yuffie looks at the rice on her plate. It’s still warm and moments ago it was so delicious but suddenly she’s not hungry anymore.
There is more screaming, the sound of fists beating against the walls. please, oh please someone, voices cut short mid panic. Yuffie stares hard at the table, traces the whorls in the wood with her eyes.
Yuri stands, slamming the chopsticks in his hand to the table. Sobo hisses at him to sit back down and he shouts, legitimately shouts at Sobo and it’s so surreal that Yuffie jumps in place. “Something needs to be done,” he snaps, pulling a kunai free from beneath his pant leg. “Stay here, Yuffie. Protect your sobo and I’ll protect both of you.”
He runs through the door, taking care to make sure he locks it behind him, before Yuffie can yell at him or protest or tell him he’s a big stupid-head and what does he know about protecting anybody but she can’t, he’s not there. He’s outside with the shadows and the panic and the pain.
Yuffie doesn’t see him again.
There is a crescendo of screams - wild and animalistic - and the sudden, sharp tang of magic in the air and then, there is nothing. “Yuffie!” Sobo leans over the table and all but drags Yuffie to her, clutches the girl against her chest and Yuffie realizes it’s the first time she’s ever been held by Sobo. It’s a strange experience, especially in this setting but she closes her eyes and rests her head against Sobo’s shoulder and breathes her in. She smells a little like Mama, lavender and chamomile and mint and a little like the lotion she rubs into her joints at the end of each day. The door rattles in its frame and they wait together, the diplomat that’s never raised a weapon in her life and the little ninja girl who is unable to protect herself in this moment.
It’s Papa who enters, locks eyes with his daughter and she sees something broken in his gaze. “Yuffie,” he says and she can’t remember the last time he actually said her name like that. Just Yuffie, no affectionate kiyomo, there is an impossible weight in his breath and Yuffie pinches herself, trying to wake up from this nightmare. “Go to your room; take only what you can carry. Be practical, Yuffie. No toys. I’ll return here to fetch you.” Tosses a pack at her feet and Papa doesn’t even give her a chance to find her words again take what for where before he disappears back down the hall.
Yuffie has to pack her life into a knapsack that fits on her back. It’s not very big and the first stuffed animal she shoves into it pretty much takes up all the available room It’s with a dejected sigh and heavy heart that she frees him from his prison and pets his fuzzy snout affectionately. “It’s okay,” she tells it, “I’ll be back for you, promise. We can’t be going that far.” She kisses his snout and tucks him back into her bed.
She packs clean underwear, because that seems like the kind of thing Sobo would approve of - she’s always snapping enough about Yuffie wearing clean things and staying tidy - and a change of shirt, the green one, and the ratty old shoes that are too comfortable to be doing their job correctly (her little toe peeps out a tiny tear in the side.) Yuffie pauses in the doorway, considers all the things she’s leaving behind. She doubles back to her dresser, grabs the necklace Mama gave her. It’s sparkly and delicate and too grown up for such a little girl, but she buries it into the bottom of her pack and feels better for having it with her.
Sobo is still in the dining hall and Papa is with her now too, they’re having some sort of conversation, not yelling but the words are strong, pulsing with a kind of quiet, controlled anger. Papa calls Sobo all kinds of Not Nice Names that Yuffie pretends not to hear, and Sobo returns the favor with two words. “Foolish man.”
Papa’s whole body is tense and tight and he won’t meet Yuffie’s questioning glance even as he stalks past her. “Yuffie, come.” He does not look behind him.
Yuffie does, walks with her head craned around the whole time as Sobo and the room and then the whole house disappear behind them. “Papa, where are we going?”
He does not answer. There is a group waiting at the city gates - they turn towards Yuffie and Papa with a spark of something, of hope, in their eyes that is quickly extinguished. There aren’t many people; it’s a small fraction of the whole population of the village. People are injured, some bleeding, most crying and Yuffie can taste the mourning in the air.
Papa does not offer words of encouragement; instead, he takes in the remains of his people and gives a curt nod. “Move quickly.” He grabs Yuffie’s hand and tugs her after him. They keep a brisk pace down the mountain-side, they do not stop to rest even when the children (and, Yuffie is ashamed to admit that this includes herself) cry from exhaustion. They move straight through the night, following the river down.
Yuffie can’t remember the last time she was awake this long; her whole body is numb and her stomach has long since stopped growling in hunger. There was a brief dinner, consisting of dried meat and hard bread, but it was too little after such a long day.
Papa is still holding onto Yuffie’s hand; they’ve switched sides and she thinks that he might be the only thing that is keeping her moving. He looks down at her; she can just make out his smile in the pale moonlight. “Look, kiyomo, have I ever taught you about the stars?” She shakes her head, focuses on his voice. Papa scoops her up, rests her against his hip and points out a cluster of stars. “See there, just above that tree? Do you see how it connects into a curved line? That’s the guardian dragon, Fuku Riu, it is always good luck when you find him.”
Yuffie doesn’t see, not really. As far as she’s concerned it’s all a jumble of blinking lights that seem to go off as soon as she tries to focus on one. But Papa’s voice is rumbling and low and she can feel it through her whole body so she listens and nods where she’s supposed to as she drifts off to sleep.
“And there, kiyomo, is the warrior Tadanori. If you can find him, he will always help you find your way home.”
It’s funny, she thinks on the cusp of slumber, how Papa pretends they still have a home to find.
-
It’s three more days to Radiant Garden, their end destination, only revealed one and a half days into the trip. Papa admits it in the grudging voice of the defeated, that he’s been in communications with the Lord Ansem and the Garden has agreed to take them in. “They are the nearest territory that is willing to assist us.”
They stay close to the river, and nobody talks much, not even Yuffie. She looks at the faces that are left of her home, feels the gaping hole where everyone else should be.
She stops asking for her mother after the first day. Papa won’t say anything about it, which almost makes it worse, and what little sleep Yuffie is able to grasp is plagued by nightmares of the shadows ripping Mama’s heart out and turning her into one of them.
They walk at night. It’s harder to see, but everyone is alert, which makes up for the danger. At least this way, the threat of the shadows is decreased. Attacks during the day have not happened since that last fateful moment in Wutai.
Yuffie still can’t sleep in the daytime; she exists in a constant state of exhaustion and stumbles a lot and wants to cry almost all the time. But she doesn’t, because almost everyone else is crying and someone needs to have dry eyes other than Papa. So she shivers and swallows the sobs and blinks back the hot tears and stumbles along after Papa.
By the time they finally tumble upon the city gates, everyone is smelly and beyond exhausted and well on their way to starving. There is a man waiting for them just inside the city. He is tall, statuesque, and Yuffie has seen enough dignitaries from Elsewhere to be able to tell he’s the guy in charge. The fact that he’s flanked on either side by several guards doesn’t hurt, either.
Papa tugs Yuffie after him. “Come, kiyomo.” Makes her trip her way forward alongside him. The tall man bows to Papa, a deep perfunctory motion. Papa taps Yuffie’s shoulder and they both bow in return. “Yuffie, this is Lord Ansem of the Radiant Gardens. Lord Ansem, my daughter, the young Lady Yuffie.” He pauses to motion to the group behind them, “And the remains of our people.”
Lord Ansem spreads his arms and steps to the side, smiles at the Wutai and says, “We mourn the loss of your kinsfolk for you, but know that you are welcome to our Garden and here, we hope, you may find a new home.”
Lord Ansem walks with them to the place that is supposed to be their new dwellings. Yuffie isn’t impressed; she can smell the fresh paint and saw dust and even from a distance the buildings have a slapdash look to them. The houses are separated from the rest of the Garden by a little white picket fence, light poles strung up at even intervals casting a sickly yellow sheen to everything. Yuffie feels a chill down her back and thinks automatically of the pens they herded sheep into.
Lord Ansem says, “I apologize, friend. We were not expecting you quite so soon and the building process was finished with all expediency. Unfortunately, they do seem to lack a certain charm.” He makes a motion with his hand and his guards step forward, passing out badges to the adults. “There are kitchens throughout the city set up to assist you; these will let them know that you are our friends in need.” He places a hand on Papa’s shoulder. “Settle in, friend, and then come see me. Dilan here will wait and escort you.”
Yuffie thinks if he says the word friend one more time she’s going to be forced to kick him in the shin.
There are more than enough shanties for everyone. Papa confers with some of the other adults. Families are consolidated and reshaped; and nobody wants to be alone. Everyone moves as a unit into the middle of the compound where they separate, slowly and cautiously, into different homes. Papa and Yuffie take the one in the very center, and Yuffie can see everyone else flipping lights on in their units from her porch.
The houses have been furnished sparsely and everything is obviously second (or maybe even fourth) handed. There is a couch in the first room, an ugly old green thing that smells like tobacco and sporting a smiley faced tear in its middle cushion. There is a table and chair set in the dining area and kitchen combo and a few chipped pieces of dishware lined up on the counter. The whole place reeks of a desperate homey-ness but the walls are brightly white-washed and everything echoes oddly and there are no soft tapestries for Yuffie to run through her fingers.
Papa looks almost as lost as Yuffie is feeling, stares around unseeing and says, “Go take a bath and ready yourself for bed. I’ll be back soon.” Like he’s forgotten that she’s still so little and has always had Mama or Sobo to help her with things.
Yuffie’s first attempt at running her own bath ends with water so cold her teeth clack together the whole time. She presses the bar of soap into her hair, her face, every place she can reach and tries to remember how Mama would wash her (she forgets the spot behind her ear). When she’s done she has to go looking for a towel, leaves a trail of water all over the house and slips on the floor (only once). Yuffie pulls on the spare shirt she had packed and the clean underwear; curls up on the couch and waits for Papa to return.
-
They have been in the Garden for a week, give or take. No one has ventured very far from their given housing units - all the same size, shape, number of rooms and still smelling like they were just put up. Yuffie has said good-bye to Papa nearly every morning. He, apparently, has Very Important Things to do with the Lord Ansem - small daughter’s emotional well-being be damned.
Yuffie spends her days wandering the small, fenced-off housing area. She stays away from the fence, where locals aren’t beyond standing near and gawking like the Wutai are some exotic species of cattle (again, she thinks of the sheep pens). Some days, she peeks into naked windows and watches the families inside: huddled together in the main room most of the time, holding each other and crying and praying. Yuffie doesn’t disturb them, just watches and drinks in all the familiar features from Home.
Once in a while, she lets herself wonder how Yuri died.
Yuffie wishes she could sleep, but she’s become something of an insomniac at the ripe old age of six. She spends the nights staring up at the ceiling in the small bedroom she shares with Papa - bare mattress on the floor, a thin blanket stretched over the two of them, and Papa’s heavy snores sawing at the air. Yuffie misses her home, her bed, even her stupid routine of Wake Up Early and Breakfast and Exercise and Morning Tea and Everything That Follows.
Sometimes she misses Sobo, wishes she could take back all the mean thoughts she ever had about her.
All the time she misses Mama; tries desperately not to think about it; fails miserably.
-
Three students in Royal Academy uniforms drop by one day. They pass out vouchers to the adults for restaurants, the market, and even a boutique. All the places have volunteered services to the Wutai (and here, is the first time Yuffie hears the word refugee), as a welcome and a small balm on their souls. The students have another surprise, a daycare camp for the children. It’s an optional service but all the grown-ups encourage the kids to go, see something beyond their little corner of the world. The students gather them up in a tight little group and walk with them up to the castle, where the camp is set up.
The students introduce themselves - there’s a Zell with a manic smile and a Zack with kind eyes and an Aerith, the only girl in the group with the longest hair Yuffie’s ever seen - and take care to try and remember the children’s names. They seem nice, for the most part, and are more than willing to go along with the billion questions Yuffie asks.
“How come your uniforms have different colors if you go to the same school?”
“They tell us which divisions everyone specializes in,” says Zack. He points to Zell’s collar. “See, his is yellow. That means he’s in the melee class.”
At Yuffie’s confused expression, Aerith explains, “That means he likes to hit people with his fists.” She sticks her tongue out when Zell tugs at her ponytail.
Zack plows on, talking over the other two. “And mine is dark blue. I’m in the weapons class.”
“The stabby class, to be exact,” pipes in Zell.
“Is there a class for ninjas?”
The teenagers pause and look at each other. “I don’t believe there is,” says Aerith.
Yuffie frowns. “That’s dumb there should be. And you should all be ninjas. We’re the best.”
Laughter follows, but it’s the affectionate kind, and Zack ruffles Yuffie’s hair affectionately. “We’ll keep that in mind, kid.”
Lord Ansem has offered a whole wing of his castle to this day-camp thing. There are various stations set up: for dress up, crafts, baking, and even a little puppet theater in the back. Aerith heads up a little garden center, where you can try different veggies and learn how to grow flowers.
There’s also a little caged off area full of puppies. The girl there, Rinoa, explains that these puppies have also lost their homes, but they can still be happy. She encourages everyone to play together, passes a soft, squirmy puppy to Yuffie.
Yuffie likes it there. Rinoa doesn’t constantly ask how she’s liking Radiant Garden and lets Yuffie ask all the questions instead.
“What are their names?”
“That one is Donatello, his brother over there is Raphael and his sister here Mikeal and the sleepy one is Leonardo.”
“Where’s their mommy?” Yuffie watches Rinoa carefully. She may be young, but she has an Idea and wonders what type of person Rinoa will turn out to be.
Rinoa scratches one of the puppies behind his ear while she considers her words. “There was an accident, and their mommy didn’t make it. But someone found the puppies and we were able to save them.” She looks at Yuffie, makes sure the younger girl is paying attention. “We can’t replace their mommy, but we can let them know that they’re loved.”
-
Yuffie weaves throughout the rooms. The people running this camp had invited some local kids to come play, to help the displaced children mingle, and most of them are nice. But some of the older ones are awful. They keep sneering and spitting that word they’ve been calling everyone from Wutai. Refugees, like it’s a bad thing, like they should be punished for the loss of their home. Refugees. Yuffie can’t stand it anymore; he has to get away before she throws one of the colorful blocks the Smaller Kids are playing with and gets in Trouble.
She sneaks out into the hallway; it’s almost depressingly easy, really. There are too many kids now, with the local yokels milling about, and not enough supervision and suddenly she’s swallowed by the quiet and the expansiveness. Yuffie picks a direction at random and starts walking. There are doors - many, many doors and she stops to try them on a whim. Most all of them are locked, for these she begins to make up stories to herself about what lies beyond.
This one hides a room made entirely of gingerbread; the table is solid chocolate and the window is clear, pressed sugar. Behind that one is a ferocious animal that grows seven times larger and can eat a whole city in one bite. That one leads to a tower where a princess is being held captive by an Evil Dragon. Yuffie considers picking that lock for a moment and going to rescue the princess; that has got to be worth some serious cred, but the sound of bright laughter distracts her.
Farther ahead there is a set of double doors and the musty smell of books wafting through into the hallway. The sound of that laughter, a child’s shrieking giggle, is coming from inside and curiosity gets the better of Yuffie. She pulls on one of the doors, finds it unlocked, and enters silently. Yuffie finds herself surrounded by tall, imposing book-cases that are positively brimming with various volumes, the titles of which yuffie can't pronounce.
She pulls herself onto the bookcase, scales the shelves easily enough and man, it’s like this place was made for her: everything is the perfect size and width and she clamors up quietly enough, stands at the top of the bookcase and surveys her temporary kingdom.
There is a voice, not the source of the laughter but perhaps the catalyst to it, speaking in the universal tone of One Telling a Story. Yuffie listens with half an ear as she scuttles along, moves quickly to hide in the shadows so she can stare down, unseen.
It’s an old woman, bent down to a little girl as she makes herself part of the story: twists her face into expressions and adjusts the timbre of her voice for different characters and uses wild arm movements to capture the action she’s describing.
The little girl laughs. “Again, Grandma!”
Her gandma chuckles in response. “Not that one again, Kairi. How about a new one? Like, the story about the first rabbit?”
The girl, Kairi, makes a little squeak of delight and Yuffie can see from her vantage point that she’s clinging to a stuffed bunny.
Grandma starts. “Once upon a time, the children in the sky were very bored. Their mother finally suggested they go play with the snow, only the children balled the snow up and began throwing it. Who would have thought, the snow fell through the sky floor! And when the snow landed on the ground, it kept bouncing and soon grew warm and soft and grew legs, so it could bounce better and a little mouth so it could taste things better, and long ears so it could hear the world better and it became a rabbit.”
Yuffie can’t handle it; she’s heard this story enough to know how it really goes, jumps down to stand in front of Kairi and her grandma and with more than just a little impertinence, shouts, “that’s not how it goes!” She makes a point of correcting all the mistakes. “They were bored because the sun was up, so they couldn’t twinkle the stars and they couldn’t play the thunder drums because they had beaten all the thunder out of them. And when they threw the snow-balls they kept bouncing around and fell through the sky floor and the twinkle holes in the stars and they cried to their momma who tried to stop the snow with her fire torch, but it just scorched the snow’s tail. That’s why bunnies aren’t all white!” Her face is flushed; she’d said it all in as few breaths as possible. The little girl is staring at her, mouth open and bunny slack in her hand, and her grandma begins clapping, which was not what Yuffie was expecting at all.
“Of course, silly me. I had it nearly completely wrong, didn’t I?”
The girl, Kairi, doesn’t even hesitate, runs over and grabs Yuffie’s hand. “Tell another one!”
When Aerith comes running through the library - face flushed and looking more than a little harried, whole body sagging with relief when she sees Yuffie -she sighs, “There you are!” Everyone in the library is more than a little startled to see how late it suddenly seems to be.
Grandma - because over the course of several hours that’s just who she became with a fond, “just call me Grandma, everyone does!”- makes an executive decision. “Miss Gainsbourgh, will you kindly do a favor for me and locate this charming child’s father? I believe you should find him with our Lord Ansem, and let him know that her company is most desired by Kairi and myself.”
This is, of course, the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Kairi is wee and small and drinks in every word of Yuffie’s stories; of which there are Many and they are Great.
Kairi carries her stuffed bunny with her everywhere. It’s soft, a pale peach, with blue eyes and the scent of vanilla. Yuffie tells her that it’s cute; it’s a good fit for such a little kid, and she tries not to think of her own carbuncle, left abandoned in the ravaged remains of Wutai. Bun-Bun stays with Kairi at all times, she pets him lovingly and tells Yuffie, “He’s from my mama.”
Part Two