Disclaimer: I don't own any part of FFVII.

AN: Vincent x Yuffie, a bit angsty. There will be more pairings and different moods in later chapters.


The rain is gray, and hard against his skin. Splatters of liquid ice fall from the skies to shatter upon his unyielding body—they feel like numbing needles.

She would have been warm.

His skin is too pale, too altered, too inhuman to sense the pernicious chill. His claw is testament enough to his inhumanity. He is a demon, cold and scarred with the touch of death.

She wouldn't have cared.

His gaze, once captivating, now merely empty, rises up to the pagoda. She's there, he knows. His eyes are dull orbs of once-fiery glass, his long hair cobalt black and tangled by the biting wind.

She would only have laughed to see him.

Long drapes of black and white flutter from every surface—the city is a forest of weeping silk, and they are apparitions in a sea of forlorn mist. His heart feels something it has not felt for so long. The demons sense it, and they want to howl and break free, abandon all chains and cages of restraint. They want, as he wants, to rend and destroy and most of all—cry—or is it just him? He doesn't know anymore.

Maybe she would have loved him.

He turns—and brushes away those droplets of clarity upon his eyelashes.

But she is gone now.