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shinkirou_hanaI meant to do this forever ago, oops. Just x-posting my DOINK! Final Fantasy Exchange fic here. (Originally posted on AO3.) Also I am casually going to use it for one of the 5_prompts tables HAHAHA it's not cheating, the rules say you can do that. Anyway!
Title: credere (part 1)
Fandom: Final Fantasy IX (9)
Pairing: Kuja/Zidane
Table/Prompt: Table 14 | Prompt 2 - "you're not a hero"
Words: ~10,000 total, ~4,000 this part.
Rating: K
Warnings: Shounen-ai, spoilers for the end of the game.
Summary: Kuja didn't wake up for two weeks.
Original Prompt: Kuja/Zidane - Their similarities and differences, and a way for Kuja to actually trust Zidane. I prefer post-game, but could take place before that, if you subscribe to the theory that Kuja died afterwards. Perhaps this can take place in the time between the Iifa tree going nuts and Zidane returning to Garnet? Further prompts: the use of magic, silk sheets, desert sands.
- - - - -
I
Kuja didn’t wake up for two weeks.
Or, rather, he didn’t wake up for two weeks after Zidane had woken up, which was worse. For the blond, those two weeks were filled with restless sleep -- he’d been shoved back into bed by Mikoto the minute he’d tried to get up to check up on his half-dead... what? Friend? Brother? Former enemy? Roommate, Zidane decided. Mikoto had put them together -- likely to torture Zidane further. She’d waited a week to even let him stand, and the minute he tried he knew why -- his wounds still hadn’t healed completely and suddenly everything hurt, blood rushing from his head and making him so dizzy he had to sit immediately again to stop himself from passing out. Mikoto had asked him if he was okay, and in order to keep even these slightest privileges, he had lied about the pain and said, “Yeah, just dizzy.” He was thankful when she didn’t seem to notice he wasn’t telling the truth -- then again, the genomes were still learning about emotions. Still, he didn’t attempt to stand again until she left the room, just to be safe.
He hated the feeling of being confined to a room, so used to being free. Kuja was just across the room, hidden from sight by only a sheet hung from the ceiling for reasons he didn’t really understand -- it wasn’t as though he would be startled by the wounds, he’d seen them all up close. Not to mention they had to look at least somewhat better by now. They’d been asleep for nearly three weeks, as Zidane had learned from Mikoto. He was permitted to stand and walk, but he wasn’t allowed out of the room, and any attempts to sneak out ended with more pain than they were worth.
The smell bothered him, too- potions always smelled strong and herbal, and being confined in a small space intensified the odour. Thankfully, the window -- on Kuja’s side of the room -- was open, at least, so the overwhelming stench of medicine could ventilate a bit. It wasn’t particularly helpful, though. Zidane wondered vaguely how many bottles of the stuff had been used on the two of them, and where they came from. He’d probably have to restock them soon. It was almost a shame Kuja hadn’t made white mages when he made the black mages, but then again, they were created as tools of war. Disposable ones. Healers would have been pointless. And the genomes had no grasp of magic at all, having never been instructed on how to use it. Maybe when Kuja woke up…
He was going to go stir-crazy. More often than not he sat on the windowsill, alternating between looking out the window and staring down at Kuja’s paler-than-usual face, watching for signs of awareness. Mikoto didn’t seem to care, as long as he didn’t try to escape out the window (and had it barred for just that reason), or agitate his wounds. She brought him food, occasionally -- usually just simple soups with some meat in them to help get his strength back. Zidane didn’t envy Kuja, who simply was fed potions every once in a while. No doubt he would wake up starving. Though, at least his wounds were healing well. At first there had been horrible wounds- anyone else certainly would have died, but Kuja had always been fairly resistant to injuries. Taking a head-on attack from Bahamut and escaping nearly unscathed, save for some minor bleeding, proved that. The blond would have thanked Garland, if he didn’t hate him so much.
Occasionally Kuja would twitch in his sleep, and Zidane would watch intently to see if he ever actually made any attempt to move, to no avail. He sometimes fell asleep in the chair next to Kuja’s bed, arms folded on the edge of the mattress, head resting atop them. Mikoto usually scolded him (without any real heat) when that happened, telling him that sleeping like that was probably aggravating his wounds, but he usually just waved her off, saying he felt fine. It wasn’t really even a lie -- since he’d woken up and been able to stretch, forcing his too-relaxed muscles back into use, he’d begun feeling much better. At first it had been torture, of course, but now moving was fine, as long as he didn’t try anything particularly acrobatic. Being stuck in such a small room meant he wouldn’t have anyway.
After the first week, his sleep became even less frequent, wanting to be sure he didn’t miss Kuja waking up. Mikoto seemed to notice, but as long as he wasn’t falling over dead, she didn’t really have any reason to complain. Eventually Zidane just tugged the curtain dividing their spaces down, though he still sat in the chair while he was awake. There was no point in the flimsy sheet remaining up, particularly if he was just going to duck behind it every day anyway. At least this way if Kuja moved and Zidane wasn’t in the chair, he could stand a chance at seeing it.
The days passed uneventfully. Zidane sat and waited, eventually wondering if holding out hope would even be worth it.
II
The day Kuja woke, two weeks after Zidane, was utter chaos.
It had, of course, been one of the rare times Zidane was asleep that Kuja finally fluttered his eyes open (probably just being contrary, Zidane thought bitterly a bit later) and rolled over, completely disregarding the fact that he had been heavily wounded. That was what made Zidane wake up -- Mikoto’s (startlingly) surprised cry as she chided Kuja for moving so quickly. Zidane had barely sat up, and to his shock, Kuja had switched to sitting up, too. He didn’t even seem to be in any pain, though he did look like he might be sick. His eyes were furrowed shut, and a pale hand was clenched tightly over his chest, gripping the borrowed shirt so tight Zidane figured it would probably rip. The clothes looked strange on him, Zidane mused absently, as he hadn’t really paid attention to them while Kuja was sleeping, too busy worrying over whether he’d wake up or not. Certainly a huge change from how he used to dress , considering he now wore a simple shirt and shorts, not dissimilar to how the other genomes dressed, save for the lack of colour. Mikoto brushed Kuja’s bangs carefully out of his face, ignoring the way he jerked away from her hand, and pressed a cool cloth to his forehead.
By that point, Zidane was standing, moving slowly towards Kuja’s bed in an effort not to startle him. Of course, Kuja turned to look at him so abruptly that it was actually Zidane who ended up startled. Their eyes met, and the blond glanced away in a moment of uncertainty. Had he done the right thing? Having his face turned away left him surprised when Kuja said his name and nothing more, voice working as though he hadn’t just woken from being asleep for nearly a full five weeks.
“Yeah?” Zidane replied, and his own voice creaked a little on the reply (and man, that was embarrassing if he paused to think about it).
But Kuja hadn’t responded, so Zidane had glanced back up and wandered closer, getting over himself and his temporary lack of confidence before sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Mikoto. The female genome moved slightly out of the way, but neither male acknowledged it, Zidane too worried and Kuja seemingly lost in thought. “You okay?”
Kuja snorted a quiet laugh. It lacked humour entirely. “Physically or mentally?”
Zidane scraped his foot against the floor. “Both, I guess.”
“Physically I am fine. How many potions did you make me drink…?” He’d made a slightly disgusted face at Mikoto before continuing without an answer, “regardless, my wounds have healed and nothing hurts. Mentally… Well, I must admit I am surprised, I suppose. I was quite certain I would not survive your little rescue mission.” Kuja had turned to stare out the window, then, abruptly, “Mikoto, could I have a glass of water?”
She nodded and left the room quietly, and the second Kuja was sure she was out of earshot, he turned back to the younger male, face carefully neutral. “Why did you come after me?”
“Huh? I already told you, I don’t need--”
“-- a reason to help someone, yes, so you’ve mentioned.” His expression darkened with a scowl. “But even if you feel you should just help people who need it, there was every chance I would not survive, and you could have died, as well. It was close for the both of us.”
“Aw, were you worried about me?” Zidane asked, grinning slightly, in an attempt to derail the questions. It didn’t work -- Kuja’s flat glare told him that it was not appreciated, either. He sighed. “Well, Kuja, believe it or not, I wanted to save you.”
“I believe you, but why? Zidane, I’ve single-handedly started a war that destroyed the four nations, created the black mages as tools of war, wiped out all but two survivors of a race, destroyed a planet… The list goes on. What reason could you have possibly had for wanting to save me?”
Knowing Kuja wouldn’t drop it until he had an answer, Zidane sighed. “… I wasn’t sure I could, but even if I couldn’t, nobody should die alone. Sure, you’ve done some terrible things, but you’ve also done good things. The mages mostly thank you, y’know. They know you’ve done a lot of awful stuff, but to them, you gave them the chance to live. Even if it’s short, they’re happy to have experienced it.” He paused, shifting his weight awkwardly before continuing, “And I know you could have easily destroyed Terra before we had the chance to get off of it… I don’t know why you waited, but you saved the genomes then. You’ve had any number of chances to kill me and my friends, too, and you haven’t taken those. And it was you who put me on Gaia as a kid, right? If you hadn’t done that, I would have been fighting alongside you, trying to destroy the planet I now consider home… So, I wanted to at least thank you, even if I couldn’t save you.”
Embarrassed, Zidane bristled as he glanced away, suddenly finding the carpet incredibly interesting. Silence blanketed the room, and just as the blond was beginning to wonder if Kuja had fallen asleep or something, he cleared his throat. “Well, I can honestly say I was not expecting something like that from you.”
Zidane glanced back up, agitation at having said so much getting the better of him and making him snap, “If that’s a jab about my brainpower--”
Kuja was waving his hand dismissively before the younger genome could even finish his sentence. “It wasn’t. You would know if I were insulting your intelligence. I only meant that such a heated response caught me off guard. I had figured your motivations much less noble than that, and I suppose I am sorry about that, if nothing else. You have shown me no reason why I should expect anything less from you.”
Caught off guard, Zidane found himself unable to respond and wondering what was taking Mikoto so long with that water. Apparently Kuja felt awkward about his own words, too, because a second later he was smirking, “Zidane, skirt-chaser and Gaia’s hero, speechless? If I’d known it was that easy, I would have made you flustered long ago.”
“Oh, shut up--” but he was smiling, taking the words as they were intended, “-- you’re the one who’s always talking. Seriously, have you ever listened to yourself?”
“It would be fairly hard not to, I would expect, unless I was deaf.”
“Yeah, well, you talk way too much. Especially when you’re saying something you don’t want to say. I wish you could be a little more honest.”
“Men are often more honest when they use someone else’s words, Zidane. Being honest as oneself is an incredibly difficult thing to do…”
Zidane nodded slowly, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But just for the record, you can be honest with me, okay? I promise I won’t judge you or anything like that.”
Kuja tilted his head in acknowledgement, but didn’t comment. The awkward feeling in the air was palpable, and seriously, how long did it take to get a glass of water around here? Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only a minute or two,Mikoto came back with the glass of water, apologizing for taking so long, and completely unable to detect the mood in the room.
III
Kuja refused to stay in the village longer than absolutely necessary.
“Where will you go?” Zidane asked, cautiously, not wanting to let on that he planned on going with him.
No such luck, of course. “Why would you care? You are most certainly not coming with me.”
“Why not?” He didn’t bother pouting or trying to deny that he wanted to, knowing both would make Kuja even less inclined to deal with him. Lying when he already knew the truth was just stupid. Still, he had every intention of following even if Kuja told him not to, and the mage was too weakened to really put up a fight. He seemed tired all the time, and Zidane was actually wondering if Kuja was even well enough to be moving, but Kuja insisted on getting out of the village as soon as he possibly could.
“Because you are annoying and I would rather not have to babysit you. Besides, should you not be on your way back to Alexandria?"
Zidane hesitated, not wanting to relay his thoughts to Kuja, and replied carefully, “I’ll go back eventually.” He wasn’t really looking forward to marrying a princess- King was not a title he figured he should ever be holding. He was a thief, and an actor- certainly not prime king material. Not to mention all the meetings and decisions…. Politics he wouldn’t understand… The more he thought about it, the more he realized he really didn’t want to return. Certainly, he’d miss Garnet, but... Zidane crossed his arms and finished lamely, “I don’t think I’m ready.”
Kuja must have noticed his shift in mood, because he scowled and huffed shortly, “Fine. You may come with me, but the second you irritate me, I will throw you to the antlions.”
“… Wait, antlions? Like, the things in the desert?” At Kuja’s ’obviously, you idiot’ stare, Zidane bristled a bit, slightly embarrassed, and continued, “But we destroyed your desert palace!”
“No, actually, you’ll find that you did not. You caved in an entrance, but that is all. Actually, there are almost certainly still monsters inside… With any luck, one of them will make a meal out of you, so that I do not have to deal with you myself.”
Zidane clasped one hand dramatically over his heart, the other gesturing grandly, “Your words wound me! Do you really want me to die so badly?”
Kuja graciously ignored the theatrics and replied, “If you don’t live to see nineteen, Zidane, I am immortal. I will not lie, that is incredibly tempting.”
Zidane seemed a little put off, but then his brain clued in to what Kuja hadn’t said, and he grinned. “That’s not a ‘yes’.”
Kuja grimaced, turning away, “… It isn’t a ‘no’, either.”
’No,’ Zidane thought, still smiling as he followed Kuja to go see Mikoto, ’but it’s progress.’
IV
The journey was actually much less painful than Zidane had feared.
They had no airship, the Hilda Garde III being in Lindblum while the Invincible was with Garnet in Alexandria, so Zidane had figured they would be walking. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world- at least they wouldn’t have to pass through Conde Petie again, that had been… interesting- but he hadn’t been looking forward to it anyway. Their wounds had healed, but that didn’t mean nothing could happen on the way. He had been thankful to be proven wrong, though his first thought upon seeing Kuja preparing to cast a spell was ’is that really a good idea?’
Kuja must have been reading his thoughts (either that or Zidane’s worry was just that obvious), because he scowled without looking away from where he was casting. “I am fine, Zidane. If I weren’t, do you really imagine that Mikoto would even consider letting me up, let alone grant me leave?”
The blond snorted. “Would it stop you even if she hadn’t?”
Kuja’s lips quirked up a bit at that, half smirking and not bothering to reply as Zidane knew the answer even before he’d asked. Of course, that didn’t make Zidane feel any better- Kuja’s admittance that he would have done this regardless of whether or not he was in an acceptable condition doing nothing to make Zidane’s worry dissipate in the slightest. He inched closer, trying to make it seem like a subconscious gesture, but the dry look Kuja shot him told him that he was not falling for it. Undeterred, Zidane gave up on subtlety and simply walked over, standing close as he peered over the spell being crafted in the space before them. He recognized the soft blue light for what it was- teleportation- and grinned despite his reservations. “Snazzy.”
Kuja looked vaguely scandalized. “Surely you did not think we would be walking.”
“Actually, I did. I wouldn’t have made you use this much magic so soon after waking up.” Zidane replied, glaring over at Kuja, though it went completely ignored as the mage did not take his eyes off the spell.
“Well, as you can clearly see, I am fine. No collapsing due to overexertion or anything. So do stop hovering around me; I will send Mikoto to find you when I am finished.”
“As much as I would like to believe that, I can tell you’re almost done. Planning on leaving without me?” Zidane was grinning despite his jab and his smile only widened when Kuja scowled.
“You’re only perceptive when it’s inconvenient for me, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t really a question, but Zidane beamed obnoxiously and replied cheerily, “Yup! But really, you told me where we’re going, so if you’d gone alone, I would have found my own way. But it would have sucked, and I might have gotten hurt on the way or something so then you’d have to look after me, and wouldn’t that just be a pain?”
“Who would have to look after you? If you were injured by being careless and following me of your own volition, I’d leave you to look after yourself.”
“Man, you’re so mean to me!”
Kuja ignored the remark, as well as Zidane’s overdramatic sigh at the end of it, finishing up the spell without glancing away. Moments later, with Zidane peering at the spell, Kuja pulled away from it and blinked as though he hadn’t for quite some time. That was probably the case. Cautiously, the younger male leaned in, and Kuja seemed to bite back the temptation to shove him in and seal it, hands twitching at his sides. Zidane grinned at the motion and glanced back over his shoulder with a tiny laugh. “Before you shove me in head first, is it at least finished? Goes to your desert palace? You should at least give me that much of a fighting chance.”
Kuja nodded, then amended, “My old bedroom, more specifically. It is one of the safer places, since monsters have not touched it since I made it. But yes, it is safe to go through, if you are ready.”
“We should say goodbye to Mikoto and the others.”
“You go ahead and do that, Zidane. I will be on the other side of this portal, and I will close it in ten minutes, whether you’re through or not, just so you know.”
Zidane scowled, unimpressed, as he grabbed Kuja’s arm to prevent him from stepping into the soft blue light of the teleportation spell. “No way! Kuja, seriously. I won’t make you talk to the other genomes or black mages but you have to at least thank Mikoto properly. If it weren’t for her, you definitely wouldn’t be talking to me right now, ‘cuz you would have died, and I won’t let you run off without at least saying thanks to her.”
They stared at each other stubbornly for a few seconds, and while Kuja’s crippling glare would usually be enough to make Zidane back off, the latter was determined, and Kuja apparently tell he wasn’t going to win this one. His eyes darted away, looking suitably reproached, and he conceded with a grumble. “I suppose you are correct, this time. But if you so much as call over one of the other genomes I will be through the spell and have sealed it shut before you can even do so much as blink.”
Figuring that it was better than nothing, the blond nodded agreeably. “Fair enough. Now, let’s go find her, shall we?”
As it turned out, they didn’t need to find her at all, as the second they’d turned to wander back into the main circle of houses in the village, Mikoto had appeared, staring at them with that still mostly-emotionless expression of hers (and all the other genome’s). Zidane waved happily and she frowned, and for a second Zidane considered telling her she had her emotions backwards, but then she spoke, calm and collected, “I don’t think you should really be leaving this early, Kuja.”
Zidane didn’t need to turn to know the expression that the mage would be wearing, particularly when he heard a derisive snort from somewhere behind him. “Well, consider your opinion duly noted, though I must say I am certain I drank enough potions that some other town’s stock is severely depleted, let alone your own. Still…” He paused a brief moment before continuing, sounding sincere, “Thank you, Mikoto. If it weren’t for your attentive care, I am aware I would not have survived, and so I am grateful to you.”
She nodded, still looking blank, though the hint of a smile could be seen on her face as she replied, “You’re welcome.” Just as quickly as the smile had come, it vanished, replaced by something that looked like it was trying to be stern, but just wasn’t intimidating at all. Her eyes met Zidane’s, and she continued, “I expect you to look after him. Even if he claims he is fine. Probably even particularly when he says so. Will you promise me that you will?”
Zidane felt a little taken aback, but nodded anyway, surprise melting away to a smile. “You didn’t even need to ask, ‘Koto. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”
She nodded in response, though a faint shadow of confusion flickered across her face at the nickname. “Good. Take these elixirs, just in case-“ Zidane started protesting over them, half unwilling to take them due to their rarity, half annoyed that they’d been fed so many potions to recover when they had elixirs, but Mikoto kept on speaking anyway, “- because he just used a lot of magic and we do not yet know if it will cause problems. If anything happens, bring him back if you cannot deal with it amongst yourselves.”
Zidane was nodding again, before tacking on a quick, “Yeah, no problem. And thanks, Mikoto, for everything. You really did save us.”
She nodded, then gestured to the teleportation spell still fluttering with power behind them. “Farewell, then. I will see you at some point in the future.” Apparently she hadn’t quite gotten sayings and such down yet, but it was better than nothing.
It wasn’t until he turned back to the portal that he remembered why he hated traveling by magic. The second his fingers grazed over the spell, he felt like he had been punched in the stomach, oxygen fleeing his lungs rapidly as he tried to convince himself not to panic-
It had taken all of a few seconds, and when Zidane opened his eyes, they were standing in Kuja’s old bedroom, as promised. It took him a second to get over his shock of traveling by magic- and the warm blue light in his memories was nagging him again, though he now knew that it had just been the light of teleportation magic. He was startled out of his reverie by Kuja clapping his hands together, once, determinedly, before the mage spoke. “Well,” he muttered, glancing around before continuing, “let us check the extent of the damage, shall we?”
( parts 5-10 here )
Title: credere (part 1)
Fandom: Final Fantasy IX (9)
Pairing: Kuja/Zidane
Table/Prompt: Table 14 | Prompt 2 - "you're not a hero"
Words: ~10,000 total, ~4,000 this part.
Rating: K
Warnings: Shounen-ai, spoilers for the end of the game.
Summary: Kuja didn't wake up for two weeks.
Original Prompt: Kuja/Zidane - Their similarities and differences, and a way for Kuja to actually trust Zidane. I prefer post-game, but could take place before that, if you subscribe to the theory that Kuja died afterwards. Perhaps this can take place in the time between the Iifa tree going nuts and Zidane returning to Garnet? Further prompts: the use of magic, silk sheets, desert sands.
- - - - -
Kuja didn’t wake up for two weeks.
Or, rather, he didn’t wake up for two weeks after Zidane had woken up, which was worse. For the blond, those two weeks were filled with restless sleep -- he’d been shoved back into bed by Mikoto the minute he’d tried to get up to check up on his half-dead... what? Friend? Brother? Former enemy? Roommate, Zidane decided. Mikoto had put them together -- likely to torture Zidane further. She’d waited a week to even let him stand, and the minute he tried he knew why -- his wounds still hadn’t healed completely and suddenly everything hurt, blood rushing from his head and making him so dizzy he had to sit immediately again to stop himself from passing out. Mikoto had asked him if he was okay, and in order to keep even these slightest privileges, he had lied about the pain and said, “Yeah, just dizzy.” He was thankful when she didn’t seem to notice he wasn’t telling the truth -- then again, the genomes were still learning about emotions. Still, he didn’t attempt to stand again until she left the room, just to be safe.
He hated the feeling of being confined to a room, so used to being free. Kuja was just across the room, hidden from sight by only a sheet hung from the ceiling for reasons he didn’t really understand -- it wasn’t as though he would be startled by the wounds, he’d seen them all up close. Not to mention they had to look at least somewhat better by now. They’d been asleep for nearly three weeks, as Zidane had learned from Mikoto. He was permitted to stand and walk, but he wasn’t allowed out of the room, and any attempts to sneak out ended with more pain than they were worth.
The smell bothered him, too- potions always smelled strong and herbal, and being confined in a small space intensified the odour. Thankfully, the window -- on Kuja’s side of the room -- was open, at least, so the overwhelming stench of medicine could ventilate a bit. It wasn’t particularly helpful, though. Zidane wondered vaguely how many bottles of the stuff had been used on the two of them, and where they came from. He’d probably have to restock them soon. It was almost a shame Kuja hadn’t made white mages when he made the black mages, but then again, they were created as tools of war. Disposable ones. Healers would have been pointless. And the genomes had no grasp of magic at all, having never been instructed on how to use it. Maybe when Kuja woke up…
He was going to go stir-crazy. More often than not he sat on the windowsill, alternating between looking out the window and staring down at Kuja’s paler-than-usual face, watching for signs of awareness. Mikoto didn’t seem to care, as long as he didn’t try to escape out the window (and had it barred for just that reason), or agitate his wounds. She brought him food, occasionally -- usually just simple soups with some meat in them to help get his strength back. Zidane didn’t envy Kuja, who simply was fed potions every once in a while. No doubt he would wake up starving. Though, at least his wounds were healing well. At first there had been horrible wounds- anyone else certainly would have died, but Kuja had always been fairly resistant to injuries. Taking a head-on attack from Bahamut and escaping nearly unscathed, save for some minor bleeding, proved that. The blond would have thanked Garland, if he didn’t hate him so much.
Occasionally Kuja would twitch in his sleep, and Zidane would watch intently to see if he ever actually made any attempt to move, to no avail. He sometimes fell asleep in the chair next to Kuja’s bed, arms folded on the edge of the mattress, head resting atop them. Mikoto usually scolded him (without any real heat) when that happened, telling him that sleeping like that was probably aggravating his wounds, but he usually just waved her off, saying he felt fine. It wasn’t really even a lie -- since he’d woken up and been able to stretch, forcing his too-relaxed muscles back into use, he’d begun feeling much better. At first it had been torture, of course, but now moving was fine, as long as he didn’t try anything particularly acrobatic. Being stuck in such a small room meant he wouldn’t have anyway.
After the first week, his sleep became even less frequent, wanting to be sure he didn’t miss Kuja waking up. Mikoto seemed to notice, but as long as he wasn’t falling over dead, she didn’t really have any reason to complain. Eventually Zidane just tugged the curtain dividing their spaces down, though he still sat in the chair while he was awake. There was no point in the flimsy sheet remaining up, particularly if he was just going to duck behind it every day anyway. At least this way if Kuja moved and Zidane wasn’t in the chair, he could stand a chance at seeing it.
The days passed uneventfully. Zidane sat and waited, eventually wondering if holding out hope would even be worth it.
The day Kuja woke, two weeks after Zidane, was utter chaos.
It had, of course, been one of the rare times Zidane was asleep that Kuja finally fluttered his eyes open (probably just being contrary, Zidane thought bitterly a bit later) and rolled over, completely disregarding the fact that he had been heavily wounded. That was what made Zidane wake up -- Mikoto’s (startlingly) surprised cry as she chided Kuja for moving so quickly. Zidane had barely sat up, and to his shock, Kuja had switched to sitting up, too. He didn’t even seem to be in any pain, though he did look like he might be sick. His eyes were furrowed shut, and a pale hand was clenched tightly over his chest, gripping the borrowed shirt so tight Zidane figured it would probably rip. The clothes looked strange on him, Zidane mused absently, as he hadn’t really paid attention to them while Kuja was sleeping, too busy worrying over whether he’d wake up or not. Certainly a huge change from how he used to dress , considering he now wore a simple shirt and shorts, not dissimilar to how the other genomes dressed, save for the lack of colour. Mikoto brushed Kuja’s bangs carefully out of his face, ignoring the way he jerked away from her hand, and pressed a cool cloth to his forehead.
By that point, Zidane was standing, moving slowly towards Kuja’s bed in an effort not to startle him. Of course, Kuja turned to look at him so abruptly that it was actually Zidane who ended up startled. Their eyes met, and the blond glanced away in a moment of uncertainty. Had he done the right thing? Having his face turned away left him surprised when Kuja said his name and nothing more, voice working as though he hadn’t just woken from being asleep for nearly a full five weeks.
“Yeah?” Zidane replied, and his own voice creaked a little on the reply (and man, that was embarrassing if he paused to think about it).
But Kuja hadn’t responded, so Zidane had glanced back up and wandered closer, getting over himself and his temporary lack of confidence before sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Mikoto. The female genome moved slightly out of the way, but neither male acknowledged it, Zidane too worried and Kuja seemingly lost in thought. “You okay?”
Kuja snorted a quiet laugh. It lacked humour entirely. “Physically or mentally?”
Zidane scraped his foot against the floor. “Both, I guess.”
“Physically I am fine. How many potions did you make me drink…?” He’d made a slightly disgusted face at Mikoto before continuing without an answer, “regardless, my wounds have healed and nothing hurts. Mentally… Well, I must admit I am surprised, I suppose. I was quite certain I would not survive your little rescue mission.” Kuja had turned to stare out the window, then, abruptly, “Mikoto, could I have a glass of water?”
She nodded and left the room quietly, and the second Kuja was sure she was out of earshot, he turned back to the younger male, face carefully neutral. “Why did you come after me?”
“Huh? I already told you, I don’t need--”
“-- a reason to help someone, yes, so you’ve mentioned.” His expression darkened with a scowl. “But even if you feel you should just help people who need it, there was every chance I would not survive, and you could have died, as well. It was close for the both of us.”
“Aw, were you worried about me?” Zidane asked, grinning slightly, in an attempt to derail the questions. It didn’t work -- Kuja’s flat glare told him that it was not appreciated, either. He sighed. “Well, Kuja, believe it or not, I wanted to save you.”
“I believe you, but why? Zidane, I’ve single-handedly started a war that destroyed the four nations, created the black mages as tools of war, wiped out all but two survivors of a race, destroyed a planet… The list goes on. What reason could you have possibly had for wanting to save me?”
Knowing Kuja wouldn’t drop it until he had an answer, Zidane sighed. “… I wasn’t sure I could, but even if I couldn’t, nobody should die alone. Sure, you’ve done some terrible things, but you’ve also done good things. The mages mostly thank you, y’know. They know you’ve done a lot of awful stuff, but to them, you gave them the chance to live. Even if it’s short, they’re happy to have experienced it.” He paused, shifting his weight awkwardly before continuing, “And I know you could have easily destroyed Terra before we had the chance to get off of it… I don’t know why you waited, but you saved the genomes then. You’ve had any number of chances to kill me and my friends, too, and you haven’t taken those. And it was you who put me on Gaia as a kid, right? If you hadn’t done that, I would have been fighting alongside you, trying to destroy the planet I now consider home… So, I wanted to at least thank you, even if I couldn’t save you.”
Embarrassed, Zidane bristled as he glanced away, suddenly finding the carpet incredibly interesting. Silence blanketed the room, and just as the blond was beginning to wonder if Kuja had fallen asleep or something, he cleared his throat. “Well, I can honestly say I was not expecting something like that from you.”
Zidane glanced back up, agitation at having said so much getting the better of him and making him snap, “If that’s a jab about my brainpower--”
Kuja was waving his hand dismissively before the younger genome could even finish his sentence. “It wasn’t. You would know if I were insulting your intelligence. I only meant that such a heated response caught me off guard. I had figured your motivations much less noble than that, and I suppose I am sorry about that, if nothing else. You have shown me no reason why I should expect anything less from you.”
Caught off guard, Zidane found himself unable to respond and wondering what was taking Mikoto so long with that water. Apparently Kuja felt awkward about his own words, too, because a second later he was smirking, “Zidane, skirt-chaser and Gaia’s hero, speechless? If I’d known it was that easy, I would have made you flustered long ago.”
“Oh, shut up--” but he was smiling, taking the words as they were intended, “-- you’re the one who’s always talking. Seriously, have you ever listened to yourself?”
“It would be fairly hard not to, I would expect, unless I was deaf.”
“Yeah, well, you talk way too much. Especially when you’re saying something you don’t want to say. I wish you could be a little more honest.”
“Men are often more honest when they use someone else’s words, Zidane. Being honest as oneself is an incredibly difficult thing to do…”
Zidane nodded slowly, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But just for the record, you can be honest with me, okay? I promise I won’t judge you or anything like that.”
Kuja tilted his head in acknowledgement, but didn’t comment. The awkward feeling in the air was palpable, and seriously, how long did it take to get a glass of water around here? Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only a minute or two,Mikoto came back with the glass of water, apologizing for taking so long, and completely unable to detect the mood in the room.
Kuja refused to stay in the village longer than absolutely necessary.
“Where will you go?” Zidane asked, cautiously, not wanting to let on that he planned on going with him.
No such luck, of course. “Why would you care? You are most certainly not coming with me.”
“Why not?” He didn’t bother pouting or trying to deny that he wanted to, knowing both would make Kuja even less inclined to deal with him. Lying when he already knew the truth was just stupid. Still, he had every intention of following even if Kuja told him not to, and the mage was too weakened to really put up a fight. He seemed tired all the time, and Zidane was actually wondering if Kuja was even well enough to be moving, but Kuja insisted on getting out of the village as soon as he possibly could.
“Because you are annoying and I would rather not have to babysit you. Besides, should you not be on your way back to Alexandria?"
Zidane hesitated, not wanting to relay his thoughts to Kuja, and replied carefully, “I’ll go back eventually.” He wasn’t really looking forward to marrying a princess- King was not a title he figured he should ever be holding. He was a thief, and an actor- certainly not prime king material. Not to mention all the meetings and decisions…. Politics he wouldn’t understand… The more he thought about it, the more he realized he really didn’t want to return. Certainly, he’d miss Garnet, but... Zidane crossed his arms and finished lamely, “I don’t think I’m ready.”
Kuja must have noticed his shift in mood, because he scowled and huffed shortly, “Fine. You may come with me, but the second you irritate me, I will throw you to the antlions.”
“… Wait, antlions? Like, the things in the desert?” At Kuja’s ’obviously, you idiot’ stare, Zidane bristled a bit, slightly embarrassed, and continued, “But we destroyed your desert palace!”
“No, actually, you’ll find that you did not. You caved in an entrance, but that is all. Actually, there are almost certainly still monsters inside… With any luck, one of them will make a meal out of you, so that I do not have to deal with you myself.”
Zidane clasped one hand dramatically over his heart, the other gesturing grandly, “Your words wound me! Do you really want me to die so badly?”
Kuja graciously ignored the theatrics and replied, “If you don’t live to see nineteen, Zidane, I am immortal. I will not lie, that is incredibly tempting.”
Zidane seemed a little put off, but then his brain clued in to what Kuja hadn’t said, and he grinned. “That’s not a ‘yes’.”
Kuja grimaced, turning away, “… It isn’t a ‘no’, either.”
’No,’ Zidane thought, still smiling as he followed Kuja to go see Mikoto, ’but it’s progress.’
The journey was actually much less painful than Zidane had feared.
They had no airship, the Hilda Garde III being in Lindblum while the Invincible was with Garnet in Alexandria, so Zidane had figured they would be walking. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world- at least they wouldn’t have to pass through Conde Petie again, that had been… interesting- but he hadn’t been looking forward to it anyway. Their wounds had healed, but that didn’t mean nothing could happen on the way. He had been thankful to be proven wrong, though his first thought upon seeing Kuja preparing to cast a spell was ’is that really a good idea?’
Kuja must have been reading his thoughts (either that or Zidane’s worry was just that obvious), because he scowled without looking away from where he was casting. “I am fine, Zidane. If I weren’t, do you really imagine that Mikoto would even consider letting me up, let alone grant me leave?”
The blond snorted. “Would it stop you even if she hadn’t?”
Kuja’s lips quirked up a bit at that, half smirking and not bothering to reply as Zidane knew the answer even before he’d asked. Of course, that didn’t make Zidane feel any better- Kuja’s admittance that he would have done this regardless of whether or not he was in an acceptable condition doing nothing to make Zidane’s worry dissipate in the slightest. He inched closer, trying to make it seem like a subconscious gesture, but the dry look Kuja shot him told him that he was not falling for it. Undeterred, Zidane gave up on subtlety and simply walked over, standing close as he peered over the spell being crafted in the space before them. He recognized the soft blue light for what it was- teleportation- and grinned despite his reservations. “Snazzy.”
Kuja looked vaguely scandalized. “Surely you did not think we would be walking.”
“Actually, I did. I wouldn’t have made you use this much magic so soon after waking up.” Zidane replied, glaring over at Kuja, though it went completely ignored as the mage did not take his eyes off the spell.
“Well, as you can clearly see, I am fine. No collapsing due to overexertion or anything. So do stop hovering around me; I will send Mikoto to find you when I am finished.”
“As much as I would like to believe that, I can tell you’re almost done. Planning on leaving without me?” Zidane was grinning despite his jab and his smile only widened when Kuja scowled.
“You’re only perceptive when it’s inconvenient for me, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t really a question, but Zidane beamed obnoxiously and replied cheerily, “Yup! But really, you told me where we’re going, so if you’d gone alone, I would have found my own way. But it would have sucked, and I might have gotten hurt on the way or something so then you’d have to look after me, and wouldn’t that just be a pain?”
“Who would have to look after you? If you were injured by being careless and following me of your own volition, I’d leave you to look after yourself.”
“Man, you’re so mean to me!”
Kuja ignored the remark, as well as Zidane’s overdramatic sigh at the end of it, finishing up the spell without glancing away. Moments later, with Zidane peering at the spell, Kuja pulled away from it and blinked as though he hadn’t for quite some time. That was probably the case. Cautiously, the younger male leaned in, and Kuja seemed to bite back the temptation to shove him in and seal it, hands twitching at his sides. Zidane grinned at the motion and glanced back over his shoulder with a tiny laugh. “Before you shove me in head first, is it at least finished? Goes to your desert palace? You should at least give me that much of a fighting chance.”
Kuja nodded, then amended, “My old bedroom, more specifically. It is one of the safer places, since monsters have not touched it since I made it. But yes, it is safe to go through, if you are ready.”
“We should say goodbye to Mikoto and the others.”
“You go ahead and do that, Zidane. I will be on the other side of this portal, and I will close it in ten minutes, whether you’re through or not, just so you know.”
Zidane scowled, unimpressed, as he grabbed Kuja’s arm to prevent him from stepping into the soft blue light of the teleportation spell. “No way! Kuja, seriously. I won’t make you talk to the other genomes or black mages but you have to at least thank Mikoto properly. If it weren’t for her, you definitely wouldn’t be talking to me right now, ‘cuz you would have died, and I won’t let you run off without at least saying thanks to her.”
They stared at each other stubbornly for a few seconds, and while Kuja’s crippling glare would usually be enough to make Zidane back off, the latter was determined, and Kuja apparently tell he wasn’t going to win this one. His eyes darted away, looking suitably reproached, and he conceded with a grumble. “I suppose you are correct, this time. But if you so much as call over one of the other genomes I will be through the spell and have sealed it shut before you can even do so much as blink.”
Figuring that it was better than nothing, the blond nodded agreeably. “Fair enough. Now, let’s go find her, shall we?”
As it turned out, they didn’t need to find her at all, as the second they’d turned to wander back into the main circle of houses in the village, Mikoto had appeared, staring at them with that still mostly-emotionless expression of hers (and all the other genome’s). Zidane waved happily and she frowned, and for a second Zidane considered telling her she had her emotions backwards, but then she spoke, calm and collected, “I don’t think you should really be leaving this early, Kuja.”
Zidane didn’t need to turn to know the expression that the mage would be wearing, particularly when he heard a derisive snort from somewhere behind him. “Well, consider your opinion duly noted, though I must say I am certain I drank enough potions that some other town’s stock is severely depleted, let alone your own. Still…” He paused a brief moment before continuing, sounding sincere, “Thank you, Mikoto. If it weren’t for your attentive care, I am aware I would not have survived, and so I am grateful to you.”
She nodded, still looking blank, though the hint of a smile could be seen on her face as she replied, “You’re welcome.” Just as quickly as the smile had come, it vanished, replaced by something that looked like it was trying to be stern, but just wasn’t intimidating at all. Her eyes met Zidane’s, and she continued, “I expect you to look after him. Even if he claims he is fine. Probably even particularly when he says so. Will you promise me that you will?”
Zidane felt a little taken aback, but nodded anyway, surprise melting away to a smile. “You didn’t even need to ask, ‘Koto. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”
She nodded in response, though a faint shadow of confusion flickered across her face at the nickname. “Good. Take these elixirs, just in case-“ Zidane started protesting over them, half unwilling to take them due to their rarity, half annoyed that they’d been fed so many potions to recover when they had elixirs, but Mikoto kept on speaking anyway, “- because he just used a lot of magic and we do not yet know if it will cause problems. If anything happens, bring him back if you cannot deal with it amongst yourselves.”
Zidane was nodding again, before tacking on a quick, “Yeah, no problem. And thanks, Mikoto, for everything. You really did save us.”
She nodded, then gestured to the teleportation spell still fluttering with power behind them. “Farewell, then. I will see you at some point in the future.” Apparently she hadn’t quite gotten sayings and such down yet, but it was better than nothing.
It wasn’t until he turned back to the portal that he remembered why he hated traveling by magic. The second his fingers grazed over the spell, he felt like he had been punched in the stomach, oxygen fleeing his lungs rapidly as he tried to convince himself not to panic-
It had taken all of a few seconds, and when Zidane opened his eyes, they were standing in Kuja’s old bedroom, as promised. It took him a second to get over his shock of traveling by magic- and the warm blue light in his memories was nagging him again, though he now knew that it had just been the light of teleportation magic. He was startled out of his reverie by Kuja clapping his hands together, once, determinedly, before the mage spoke. “Well,” he muttered, glancing around before continuing, “let us check the extent of the damage, shall we?”
( parts 5-10 here )
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small} 5_promptsTable Number 14 0/5 | |||||
| 01. | I want to run away | ||||
| 03. | not so nice next time | 04. | pay the devil his due | ||
05.  | |||||
