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UHHH SORRY YUFFIE

Nero had never intended to find comfort here.

In the twisting trees, in the dark shade, in the near-forgotten silence of the world. The Headstone Forest had become a sort of escape from him, a hideaway from the hustle and bustle of Sonora. In times of stress, he retreated to the quiet shadows of the canopy; a threat to no one but himself, here, in the woods. Slaughter wasn’t at the forefront of his mind these days, no. He was building a life. He was learning. He was creating something from nothing, forming the building blocks of a life he could once only dream of and it was --

It was--

Hard.

The Tsviet tilted his head back against the cool, rugged surface of the tree he was currently seated beneath. In his years in this strange world, he had come so far. Gone was the suit that Deepground had bound him with. Forgotten were the wings they’d surgically attached to his back, to act as his hands because his own were too dangerous. The darkness in his body was content with him -- mostly -- and pooled loosely at his fingertips; bubbling inconspicuously as if a natural part of the landscape.

He was now nothing but an assassin for hire. Following his idea to build a true life for himself and Weiss, Nero fought his natural instinct to be the chaotic force he was bred to be, and such a thing was truly tiring. His mind rang constantly with a familiar mantra, death, destruction, hurt, pain, death, destruction--, yet Nero balled the words up and shoved them deep, deep down. He would make Weiss proud with his progress. He would. He must.

Weiss, wait until you see it, Nero spoke to his missing brother in his mind, Everything I have done in this world, I have done it for you.

The serene silence of the woods was broken, shattered in an instant by a shrill voice. Nero didn’t immediately react to it, knowing well that the Headstone Forest was capable of pulling tricks on people. It hardly bothered with a man as dark as it was, but that didn’t stop it from attempting once or twice. The Sable remained seated, waiting, listening, catching the echoes of the voice once more.

Someone was yelling, yet not in distress as he would have suspected. Intrigued, yet slightly annoyed, Nero rose from his place on the ground, brushing the leafy debris from his civilian clothing; black jeans and a loose, dark shirt underneath his coat. He came to be alone, to rest in the silence -- if someone were parading around the forest lost, he’d simply have to move elsewhere. There was no point in going to kill them himself. The ghosts of the woods would do it, if they so chose to. Slow, painful, terribly; if the bodies he’d found were anything to go by.

Yet the voice pierced the sky once more, so loud and … familiar. Nero furrowed his brows; why would a voice be familiar to him, here? It wasn’t someone he’d run into recently. The voice was high pitched, feminine … shrill. Annoying. Grating.

No, surely not.

Not wanting to make a sound to startle his guest, Nero phased through his darkness and found an appropriate limb of a tree to land upon. His leather boots didn’t make a sound as they found contact with the bark, and Nero perched one hand against the tree as he looked down the path. He was, unfortunately, correct. It was a voice from his past -- the strange ninja girl he’d met first within Shinra’s basement, and once more in Deepground. She was walking, albeit slowly, through the twisting trees with a mouth full of complaints.

… He could just leave. Leave her there to be lost, to die. She was never truly his problem, after all. Yet, the more he watched her move, the more he began to feel. The laughter was threatening to bubble up out of his chest. His heart began to beat harder and harder. How long had it been, since he’d looked at someone familiar? Someone he’d tried to kill? The targets he was paid to kill in Sonora hardly brought such emotion from him, but her. He could remember. Remember the sting of her weapon. The look on her face after what he did to her precious friend--

Nero grinned. He could remember so much. Her sounds of pain. Her fear. A pool of darkness fell from his fingertips, sliding down the bark of the tree quickly, pooling at the base. Sparkling, inky, dangerous. His red eyed gaze was glued to her as she approached the tree he was perched in. The laughter finally slipped it’s way through his lips, quiet at first before growing in volume; cackling and maniacal.

“My my,” Nero laughed again as the darkness pooled at the base of the tree grew, spreading it’s inky tendrils out around the plants adjacent to it, “Isn’t this a surprise.”

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Nero you're gross stop hanging out with corpses

Oh, oh there it was.

The fear.

Nero felt his chest swell with a glee long since forgotten during his years on Zephon. People who had experienced his darkness and lived to tell the tale were near non-existent in this new land. But she had lived through his torture, had taken it to heart, had seen what he was truly capable of. The Tsviet couldn’t be bothered to recall her name -- it hardly mattered, she wasn’t even a true target as much as she’d been a test. Yet, her fighting spirit had helped him become free, for a short while, at least.

He’d soaked in the pain, the fury. It was glorious. Even now, he could recall how alive she’d made him feel. She and the man that was with her, the hilarious fool that had stepped before Nero’s sharp claws.

He didn’t bother drawing a weapon. The darkness at its full potential was more than enough on its own. Nero would have his fun, like a cat with a mouse, before moving on. The girl’s face twisted from genuine, human fear to anger and fury -- something else familiar. The pain of having someone important stolen from you. Nero’s grin spread further as he laughed at her words, soaking them all in, watching as she dropped to a fighting stance. The ninja had barely survived him last time while he was still stuck in Shinra’s restraints and she had an extra hand.

Now, there was no one here to help her. There was nothing but her, and the dark.

Nero allowed her approach, but phased through the darkness as the ninja drew close. It appeared as though he’d sunk through the dark splotch on the tree, disappearing from view entirely for a few moments. Instead, the Tsviet reappeared a few yards behind the ninja, his head cocked to the side, a smirk on his lips, “Sonon? Was that his name?”

He spread his arms, palms open as the darkness spread out in the area between them. It coated the grass and dirt, it climbed the trees, leaving nothing but dangerous, snaking tendrils and eery, sparkling light separating them. The ninja would have a difficult time navigating this kind of terrain, if she chose to keep coming for him.

Nero cackled to himself, manifesting the power of his void in his right palm, the red and purple hued energy dripping with the desire to consume, “Would you like to see him? I’ve always kept his corpse close -- he's one of my favorite trophies.”

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He's so eloquent these days

As the young ninja made her vain attempts to dodge the power of his void, she managed to gain just enough traction to form an attack. A fireball, from one of many materia she likely had hiding around her person, if Nero recalled their previous fights correctly. He could have simply dodged it, teleported through the darkness as he had before, but instead he allowed it to come to his person. He held out his hand, black and purple unspeakable power at his palm, as the fire made contact.

It burned. Not as much as it certainly would have without his power, if he’d been caught off guard, but the sizzling pain, albeit minor, felt good. The Tsviet chuckled, his lips curling into a crazed grin. The blood was pumping through his body, thrumming through his veins. His nerves were responding to each overwhelming stimulus. Oh, he felt alive, so alive once more.

But, oh, what to do with her? The girl was hopping from branch to branch, managing to dodge the void as she went. Well, it would be boring to immediately do away with her anyway, wouldn’t it? Even if she was chattering about quite annoyingly. Nero only caught bits and pieces of what she was screeching about, uninterested in the complaints of a young girl who bit off more than she could chew once more.

Death would be too easy, too quick, too unsatisfying. Nero had lived years in this world, suffering and alone. Why let the ninja take the easy way out, when she could experience what he had? Loneliness. Pain. The overbearing weight of knowing that everything you once knew, all that you once loved, was gone forever.

Her taunts may have upset someone with less conviction and a more shallow ego, but Nero found them to be nothing more than annoying chatterings. There was no room for honor in battle in Deepground. The Tsviets were nothing more than tools, and they were taught to behave as such. Weapons that used every tool in their arsenal at all times in order to complete the job. Nero rolled her eyes, a dramatic display on his part, before spreading his arms wide.

“A coward uses words in a vain attempt to force their opponent into more operant fighting conditions, rather than taking them on at their fullest,” the Sable Tsviet eagerly corrected the ninja, while the power of his void continued to shine brilliantly around them, “Plead all you like, but I won’t put on the kid gloves to satiate your spoiled brat tastes.”

Darkness filled his palms, and as it dissipated, two large pistols were left in its place. Nero idly twirled one in his left hand while the right lazily took aim at the ninja, “Such a great ninja deserves my all, don’t you think? How I’d hate for you to feel disappointed 'til your very last breath.”

Nero laughed, before correcting his aim with both weapons and taking the initiative to quickly fire shot after shot at the mobile ninja girl. He would play, he would chase, and he would hopefully maim her before leaving her in the forest known for torturing the weak. Maybe, if she provided him with enough fun, he’d seek her out again. A constant nightmare for the both of them.