Nanaki (RedXIII) Theme:
#15, Death; Curse Rating:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII and make no profit from this piece.
The first year they searched, it was like being back in the Shinra days, before Meteor, as they roamed the planet in search of Sephiroth and weapons. Vincent had not changed at all physically, and though the depth and haunted shadows in his eyes were new, Nanaki could still fancy themselves back in those days when everyone was still alive, and if not sane, at least on the way to becoming saner. He was not getting younger, but he was still strong and could easily match Vincent’s pace. He was confident that they would be able to find Cloud eventually.
The fifth year they searched, Vincent started losing some of his agility. Nanaki had to slow down for him without looking like he was. Vincent still hadn’t changed physically, still looked exactly the same, yet there was a stiffness to his movements that had never been there before.
The sixth year they searched, Vincent began losing his aim, and that was the most terrible blow of all. His eyesight blurred together like a solid clump of over-saturated mako colors and soon he could not shoot unless it was to strike at large, noisy targets. Nanaki had to fight for them both when it was required and let Vincent put an occasional hand on his shoulder when he could not decipher the direction they were taking. He still hadn’t changed.
The seventh year they searched, Vincent began coughing blood. Nanaki had to stop and watch as Vincent’s organs gave up, one by one, until his heart stopped after a last few valiant efforts. He lay in death just as he had when they had opened his coffin, and it struck Nanaki as a great injustice that mako would cheat him of even a normal death. Burying him was a long and difficult process, but Nanaki would not give scavengers the pleasure of picking apart a body that had managed to remain together for so long.
The eight year he searched, Nanaki went by Vincent’s resting place and decided to give up. Cloud had undoubtedly suffered a similar fate by now. He could only wish that his body had made as many beautiful, spreading flowers and plants bloom as Vincent’s.