Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Shattered Boundaries	By : Crya2Evans Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 836 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! I put review responses on
the bottom! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Shattered Boundaries Part II
Evanescent Encounter

He shivered at the flash of
cold that tugged at his clothing but never once took his eyes off his prey.
Here, in the dead center of the slums, there was little rain, if any at all,
and the air was heavy and foul, polluted with every dreg that the people above
the plate no longer wanted. Ichi had lived there so long that he didn�t notice
it any more. Beside him, Korcha sucked in a deep breath of nervousness and
excitement, unable to keep his teeth from chattering in the distinct chill.

�Ther� two, the Wutaiian
inna taller blond nex� t�him,� Ichi explained from the corner of his mouth,
careful not to make it too obvious. �Watch me close, but don� get seen, kay?�

Korcha nodded
enthusiastically and stepped back into the shadows, eyes still mako bright and
visible. As a new member of the rapidly expanding Razors, he already regarded
Ichi with the same awe and slight fear as the rest of the others, extremely
happy that he was being taught by the best. Much like his late older brother,
Ichi worked on the rule that if they didn�t work they didn�t eat. It was as
simple as that.

Convinced that Korcha would
do as told, Ichi squared his shoulders and melded into the crowd of the seventh
district main road, unconsciously hunching against the chill that seemed more
mental than physical. His gaze never left his mark however, and along the way,
his hand unconsciously dipped into the pockets of those surrounding him,
scoring at least twenty gil. He was certain that the men he was following were
from above the plate and would have at least ten times that.

He slipped behind them,
silent as a shadow and watching their movements carefully, eyes quickly
scanning their forms. The blond on the right carried his wallet in his right
back pocket, he could tell that at a glance. The Wutaiian, however, was proving
to be a bit more difficult. Ichi scrutinized the somewhat taller man for
several more steps before mentally crowing in triumph. A flash of wind against
a dark suit, which on second though almost appeared to be just like that of
ShinRa�s Turk�s, and the location was revealed.

It was only a matter now of
slipping in and out, quiet as a shadow.�

He pilfered the blond
easily, obviously blondie knew nothing of wandering around in the slums
otherwise he wouldn�t have chosen the most popular place to keep his wallet. He
was also satisfied to find another pack of cigarettes, which he promptly stuck
in his back pocket. It was bargaining material with Van for later.

Thumbing through the brown
leather quickly, snickering briefly at the horrible picture on the
identification card, he was pleased to note at least two-hundred gil. Wherever
this guy worked, he sure was loaded. Ichi stuck the wallet deep down into his
pocket and narrowed his gaze, prepared to take on the far more difficult of the
two.

The best method for a
frontal steal would be to push between them without apology, much like the
other random people in the street bumped into others quite rudely. A single
slide of a slim hand, and he would be on his way, considering it a plan well
done. He smirked to himself, heartbeat picking up rapidly within his chest as
the adrenaline rush began to hit him. He always did love a challenge.

He quickened his pace,
shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look as unassuming as possible,
ducking his head and watching them out of the top of his eyes. He gauged their
step patterns, step, sway, a gap, step, sway, gap� there. He pushed forward,
half-angling his body so that he was facing the Wutaiian and shoved between
them. His hand slid out of his body, hidden by the movement of his rough
jostle, and eased its way quickly into the Wutaiian�s pocket, withdrawing what
immediately felt like a rather thick wallet.

Inwardly, he leapt with glee
before stumbling forward without an apology, hand disappearing into his pocket.
It had only taken the span of a few seconds. He felt twin glares of irritation
burning into the back of his head but paid them little mind, knowing both men
would only attribute his rudeness to the same callous disregard that all slum
residents tended to display.

He cackled inside his mind,
willing to wait for a better location to delve into this particular wallet,
when suddenly it all went so terribly wrong. He hadn�t expected it and chalked
it up to Murphy�s Law when suddenly, two burly men ran past him at an angle,
shoving him backwards as they passed. Ichi�s arm flailed to regain his balance
as he took a step, ankle turning in a deep pothole and sending him tumbling
backwards, directly into the two men he had just stolen from.

Large hands clapped down on
his shoulder, stopping him mid-fall. Ichi twisted his neck around, finding
Blondie staring down at him as the Wutaiian on the other side of him grimaced
with distaste at the mud splattered on his somewhat expensive looking dark
slacks. Blondie shoved Ichigo to an upright position, a scowl etched into his
face as he turned towards his companion, pretty much ignoring Ichi altogether.
This was fine with him.

�Fuckin� slum rats,� Blondie
muttered, beginning to pat down his pockets. Ichi took that moment to speed up
his pace, putting as much distance between the two and him. �Fuck! My cigs are
gone!�

Ichi felt eyes boring into
the back of his head, and that was the last straw. No longer caring for
subtleties, he took off running, pushing through a small crowd of men in front
of him with his holey sneakers slapping on the pavement in front of him. He
didn�t dare look back, though a string of curses in Blondie�s nasally tone
followed after him.

He didn�t get as far as he
would have hoped, however. Fingers, clamping down on his flailing wrist like
iron steel, jerked him backwards as his feet slid through a mud slosh. He
completely lost his balance before sprawling on his ass, arm still locked in a
firm grip. Ichi didn�t even think or look, reacting purely on instinct as he
struggled to fight back, lashing out with a fist and striking the man across
his wrist, hoping he�d be released as he attempted to scramble into a standing
position.

Then, pain arced through his
entire shoulder as his assailant easily flowed with his motion, flipping him
forward on his face and twisting his arm behind his back to the point of nearly
breaking it. What felt like a knee pressed itself to the center of his back,
directly on his spine as another hand shoved his head into the ground beneath
them, a mixture of cement remnants and mud. Ichi spat and spluttered but
couldn�t breathe thanks to the knee in his back.

�Ow! Fuck! Lemme go!� he
demanded, wriggling about beneath the restraining hold and waving his free arm
rather uselessly. That was until a thick-soled boot came out of nowhere,
pinning his other wrist to the ground, applying pressure but not breaking.

�I ain�t dun nuthin�!� He
clamped down on a shiver, chill gripping him as his mid-torso was pushed down
into the freezing cold water of a puddle. He could feel mud squishing beneath
him and he scowled, cursing his own ineptitude.

They ignored his protests
however, as the one gripping his arm began to grope about in his pockets,
producing their stolen wallets and cigarettes, as well as the wallet he had
pilfered earlier, taking every last gil Ichi had worked hard to steal. �I found
dat, yo!� he protested, lying through his teeth like any good street rat would
do.

The boot ground down on his
wrist, forcing the pale, thin limb abrasively against the rough stone. �Yeah!
In my pocket!� Blondie�s voice growled to his right, face twisted into a sneer.
�I can�t believe he got us, boss. We supposed to be Turks.�

�WHA?� Ichi�s eyes widened
in shock as the outraged cry escaped his lips before he could stop it. �Fuck! I
thot sumthin�s off!� he cursed, wriggling under the other man�s knee, even more
determined to escape now. ShinRa�s Turks were well known beneath the slums. He
couldn�t believe that he had been so careless.

Ichigo twisted his body
again in a desperate attempt to break free, but then, the knee ground down into
his spine and he swore he heard something crack. His breath whooshed out of his
body as his arm was twisted even further than he thought possible, sending
sharp stabs of agony through him.

�Ow!�

Blondie snickered. �Whatcha
going to do with him, Tseng?� he questioned, idly crushing Ichi�s wrist with
the heel of his boot.

The Wutaiian, whom Ichigo
now knew to be Tseng, mused thoughtfully, his voice incredibly monotone and
deadpan. �He resembles one of the Don�s boys.� He paused, and Ichi could
practically feel the penetrating gaze in the back of his head. �Perhaps we can
use him.�

�Wha? Hell no!� Ichi
snarled, wriggling again as he kicked his legs up in a vain attempt to break
free. �Ain�t got nuthin ta do with �hat perverted fucker, yo!� he cursed as he
spat, having gotten an unfortunate taste of the mud beneath him.

�Then, I suppose we have no
use for him,� Blondie muttered, finally removing his foot from Ichi�s wrist,
though not without one last parting grind downwards. Ichi could feel the blood
seeping from the many cuts as the sharp stones beneath had punctured his skin.
�Just kill him, and get it over with.�

Aquamarine eyes widened in
horror as his heart leapt into his chest. �I ain�t dun nuthin�!� he reiterated
to ears that were no longer listening. A sudden surge of adrenaline coupled
with his desire to not end up at the wrong end of a Turk handgun hit him then,
not that there was a good end, and he bucked his body, surging upwards with a
strength that surprised him. He ignored the painful pop of his shoulder and the
agony that seared through him as it went limp at his side.

Above him, Tseng was
momentarily knocked off balance, and it was all the time that Ichi needed. He
twisted over to his side, gritting his teeth against the fiery pain that raced
through his shoulder, and swiped Blondie�s legs out from under him. He jabbed his
working hand into the pavement, quickly shifting his weight and kicking up and
out, managing to perfectly catch the heel of his foot on Tseng�s chin, snapping
the Wutaiian�s head backwards.

As Blondie tumbled to the
ground, Ichi scrambled to his feet, throwing one more kick for good measure to
the blond man�s groin. He didn�t waste any time on Tseng, one hand clutching
onto his limp arm as he sprinted forward, pushing through the crowd of
onlookers. He gasped for breath, one wrist bleeding and aching, one shoulder
essentially useless. He was determined to find his freedom, however. The arm he
could fix; death was slightly more difficult.�

Behind Ichi, from his half-sitting position Tseng rose to his feet, wiping the
blood from his lip with a slightly bemused expression on his face, while his
companion struggled to find his voice that had been lost with the
none-too-gentle kick to his groin. He swore he saw birds dancing over his head
as pain shot through his entire body. A few muttered curses had escaped his
clenched teeth, including slurs on the boy who had been so rude as to kick him
when he was down.

�I can�t believe I was
fuckin� one-upped by a scrawny slum rat. I�m going to kill that fucker,�
Blondie seethed.

Tseng shot him a look but
otherwise ignored his companion, one gloved hand slipping into his pocket to
pull out his cell phone. �I think I may have found a use for him after all,� he
commented as he quickly depressed a button and held it up to his ear, frowning
as he brushed a few flecks of mud from his clothes. �Ken. There�s a slum rat
with red hair heading your way. Tattoos on his face. Grab him. Watch it though.
He�s slippery.�

After the other man grunted
out a response, Tseng snapped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.
He turned annoyed silver eyes down towards his companion, who had yet to rise.

�Get up, Maki. We have work
to do.��

A fair distance ahead of
them but not far enough for his desperate brain, considering the huge mass of
sheer people he was trying to get through, Ichi ran as if his life depended on
it. And perhaps it did. He wasn�t certain that the Turks wouldn�t waste their
time to simply snuff out one more slum rat, and he wasn�t going to take a
chance and find out. He pushed and shoved his way through the people, heart
pounding wildly in his chest and ignoring their angry glares and curses.
Inwardly, he thoroughly chided himself for failing to notice their obvious
Turkness and being such a dumbass.

He twisted his body as he
ran, turning to check behind him with a quick scan when suddenly he ran into
something big and unmovable. He nearly bounced backwards from the greater bulk,
but before he could dart around the incredible size, arms clamped down on him.
He was lifted over a shoulder with a heave, unceremoniously tossed and left to
stare at a built, dark-suited back.

He had the sinking feeling
that it was another Turk.

�Hey!� he protested,
immediately beginning to squirm as he ignored the pain in his shoulder from
being tossed around like a rag doll. �Lemme go! Pumme down ya bastard!� he
cursed, kicking his legs out in an effort to put his assailant off balance. But
the man was built like a brick house and refused to even budge. Something
vaguely rod-like rapped him on the head, and he momentarily saw stars before
the struggles began again.

He kicked his legs again,
beating his one fist against the man�s back. �Pumme down, yo. I ain�t dun
nuthin�, dammit! Fuckin-- Ow!� Birds and swirls danced in his vision as an
elbow rammed into the side of his head, an elbow that seemed too large to be
human. He went somewhat limp, brain spinning fuzzily as he groaned. �Fuck �hat
�urt, yo.�

The man grunted. �Shut up,�
he ordered, shifting Ichi�s weight as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a
phone. �Boss, I�ve got your slum rat.�

Ichigo didn�t bother to
listen to the rest of the conversation, ignoring it as he thoroughly berated
himself for his current predicament. His head spun, his shoulder ached, and his
stomach churned with every audible crunch and grind of the bones in his broken
and/or dislocated arm. He couldn�t be sure which.

He raised his head slightly,
aquamarine eyes catching sight of other slum residents steadfastly ignoring his
plights. Fuckers. He scowled at them all, even though he knew his reaction
would have been much the same. If one wanted to survive in the slums, he
learned to keep his nose to his own business. The law didn�t care, ShinRa
didn�t care, so why should anyone else? It was kill or be killed, a brutal
existence but simply a fact of life. ShinRa had built that plate for a reason.

Ichi gave one last token wriggle, a
desperate attempt to break free, but the elbow to his side and the arm like an
iron band around his legs let him know there was no escape. He was fucking
doomed.

It was only a minute more
before Tseng and Blondie strolled up, Ichi could tell by the cheerful whistling
and the twin crunches of their boots approaching. His heart thudded painfully
in his chest, but he resolved to show them no fear, no matter how much agony he
was in.

�Boss.� Big and Burly tipped
his head in greeting, deep voice rumbling in his chest.

�You can put him down, Ken.
Just don�t let him go,� he heard the smooth tones of Tseng order. He quickly
deduced that the Wutaiian was the boss of these Turks. And he had kicked him in
the chin.

Good going, Ichi.

He highly doubted there was
any chance of him escaping now.

The world tilted as he was
hefted from the wide shoulder and planted on the ground with little grace, one
hand clamping down on his uninjured arm, the other tangling gloved fingers in
his hair and gripping tightly. He was left standing, or wobbling rather, on the
ground, face to face with the Wutaiian. He was impassive, and the dark spot of
blood on the corner of his mouth made Ichi secretly proud, even if it meant he
wouldn�t get to live for much longer.

Tseng was attractive,
delicate even, with feminine features. Were it not for the determined set to
his chin that implied his �take no shit� attitude, Ichi might have dared to
call him pretty. He was attractive enough to make his blood stir, but at the
present moment, lust was the last thing on the redhead�s mind.

The Turk rubbed his chin
with one hand as Ichi glared defiantly. Fingers tightened in his hair, but he
didn�t flinch, even though his scalp felt like it was trying to tear itself
from his skull. To the side, Blondie was scowling as he puffed madly on a
cigarette, the desire to kill burning in his blue eyes. He, on the other hand,
was not attractive in the slightest, and Ichi didn�t even want to contemplate
Mr. Brickhouse Ken behind him. The man would crush him.

�You got guts, kid, trying
to get away from us,� Blondie sneered, cracking the knuckles of his hands as he
left his cigarette dangling between his lips. He jerked a thumb towards Big and
Bulky. �Too bad you didn�t know about Ken here.�

�Maki.� Tseng was
expressionless.

Blue eyes flickered to the
Wutaiian as Maki scrunched his forehead. �Yeah, boss?�

Tseng didn�t even bat an eye
or glance at him. �Shut up,� he ordered as he took a step forward, silver gaze
roaming over Ichi, gauging him. His eyes were cold as they fell on the
redhead�s shoulder, arm lying limply at his side. �That must hurt,� he
commented needlessly, idly reaching behind him for the small of his back and
pulling out a handgun that Ichi cursed himself for not realizing was there. He
thumbed the safety off, examining the gun as if he wasn�t sure what he planned
to do with it.

Ichi paled and swallowed
thickly but refused to show any fear. If he was going to go down, he wasn�t
going to beg for his life like some bitch.

�Don� feel a�thing, yo,� he
boasted, attempting to stand up straight from his perpetual slouch. It
irritated him that every man surrounding him was taller, even Tseng.

The Wutaiian raised a brow
as his gaze rose to glowing aquamarine eyes. �Is that so?� he questioned,
elevating the handgun to a higher level and almost carelessly pointing the
barrel towards Ichi. �How would you like to be a Turk?�

Blondie nearly choked on his
cigarette, but he was no more surprised than Ichi, who managed to hide his
shock underneath a face twisted with suspicion. �Wut games ya playin� wit me?�
he demanded, certain there was some trick.

Just two minutes ago, the
man wanted to shoot him; Ichi was right to be wary. The Wutaiian was making
little sense if any, and he could tell that neither of the Turk�s companions
were expecting this.

�You are not just some idle
slum rat,� Tseng commented, still in that same monotone as he slowly began a
short pace in front of Ichi, occasionally looking towards him. �I was careless
before, but I realize who you are now, Ichigo.� Eyes as harsh as steel burned
into Ichi�s own.�

And aquamarine ones narrowed
to thin slits in return. �How d�you know who�m?� he growled, twitching slightly
under that probing stare. He fidgeted for a moment in Ken�s hold and then went
still when Big and Bulky gave a pull on his hair.

�I am second commander of
the Turks. It is my business to be aware of the rising thugs and their leaders
in the slums.� His lips curled into a smirk, which was just as threatening, if
not more, than the blank face. �And you are a very dangerous boy.�

Blondie laughed mockingly at
this, clearly disbelieving. �You can�t be serious, boss. This scrawny runt is
that Ichigo? The head boss of the Razors?�

�You have a choice,� Tseng
inserted smoothly, shooting his subordinate an annoyed stare before returning
his gaze to Ichi with an almost lazy motion. �You can become a bitch for ShinRa
on our terms� or yours. Either way, I�m sure Corneo�s spies have already seen
you talking to us. And word on the street spreads fast.�

Ichi glared, although he
knew that the Wutaiian was right. That didn�t mean he was going to either
confirm or deny Tseng�s accusations either. This was his chance to break free
of the slums, to actually make something of himself. Though he held no love for
ShinRa, it would be a better life. He felt some remorse in leaving the Razors
behind but knew they�d want him to go. He imagined Ryu would have hit him if he
didn�t. Besides, Van was more than capable of taking over.

In truth, he didn�t even
have to think about his decision. He had always dreamed of escape from the
slums; he had just never expected it to come in the form of a steely-eyed Turk.
Not that he was going to pass that chance. He might not have had any schooling,
but he wasn�t stupid.

�Aight,� Ichigo conceded
with a nod of his head, as much as he was capable of anyway with sausage like
fingers gripping his hair. �I�ll be a Turk, yo.� Hell, he�d be the best Turk
there ever was if it meant a warm place to sleep, food in his belly, and
sleeping without having to worry about a knife in his gut or a random dick up
his ass.

Tseng merely inclined his
head in understanding, flipping on the safety of his gun and slipping it back
into his pants. Ichi still couldn�t believe he had missed it.

�Very well then.� His gaze
flickered to the man standing behind Ichi. �Ken, fix his arm then occupy him at
the car. Maki and I still have some business.� He gestured towards Blondie, and
the two headed off, disappearing into the crowd of onlookers that had gathered,
none too subtly expecting bloodshed and quite disappointed when there was none.

He scanned their faces,
scowling when he did note two of Corneo�s dogs, watching him with pleased
smirks before they also melted back into the throng. Ken, who had grunted in
response, released his hold on spiky, red hair and started probing at Ichi�s
bruised shoulder with all the gentleness of an sledgehammer.

�Hey!� the younger man
snapped, twisting in Ken�s hold. �Don� jes go touchin� broke shit, yo,� he
growled as suddenly Ken spun him around to face him, his movements rough and
jerky.

Ken, whom Ichi could finally
see was a brunet, put both of his meaty hands on Ichi�s shoulder, nearly
engulfing his slimmer frame. �It�s not broken,� he explained. �Just popped out
of place.�

Ichi scowled. �Well, that�s
jes-- Fuckin� ow!�

Pop! At that moment, Ken
yanked on Ichi�s arm, neatly and quite painfully sliding it into place.

�How bout a lil warnin� nex�
time, ya bastard?� Ichi snarled, yanking himself free from Ken�s grip as he
vigorously rubbed on his shoulder.

The Turk smirked. �It is
more entertaining this way,� he responded, incredibly amused by the scrawny
boy�s scowl. He jerked a thumb towards a side alley, which was short enough to
actually dump passerbies out on the other side. �Car�s this way.�

He kept rubbing his
shoulder, though the pain had faded to a dull throb, and followed after Ken,
feeling incredibly dwarfed by the man�s huge bulk. He felt strange, almost like
he was having some odd nightmare since everything seemed so surreal. Less than
an hour ago, he was watching the crowds for a good mark; now, he was going to
work for ShinRa and above the plate for that matter, which seemed like an
entirely different world.

It was almost as if he had
been given a second chance, a second life, and the thought was� exciting, for
lack of a better word. He had the feeling that nothing was going to be the same
again.

* �� * �� *

Ichigo coughed as he stepped
out of the sleek Turk vehicle, his lungs choking on the fresh air as a breeze, a breeze, ruffled his hair and teased
his bare skin. He blinked in the absurdly bright light of the sun, another
cough wracking his thin frame. It was so fresh, sweet� almost too pure, and
although he wanted to, he couldn�t breathe deeply of it. The lack of smog and
pollution clenched his lungs. It was ironic, but he was suffocating on the
clean air.

There was only one option to
him, and though he thought they were revolting, the constant coughing was a
nuisance. Patting himself down quickly, he extracted Van�s cheap cigarettes
from his pockets. Giving them a distasteful look, he smacked one stick into his
hand before shoving the rest of the pack down into his pocket. As the other
Turks exited the vehicle, he leaned against the door, checking his pockets for
a lighter and placing the cigarette between his lips. A shadow fell over him as
Blondie slapped one into his palm before turning back towards Tseng and Ken,
Reno tilting his head in thanks before lighting up.

He relaxed against the black
metal, crossing one ankle over the other and letting the nicotine ease the
tightness in his throat. He scowled at the unwelcome taste of menthol, which he
loathed, but was grateful for finally being able to breathe. Looked like he
would be adopting a new habit if he wanted to breathe normally. At least the
cigarette helped calm the somewhat nervous flutter that attacked him at just
the sight of the huge ShinRa building.

Behind him, Tseng was giving
wrap-up orders to the others. Ichigo couldn�t really hear what they were saying
and didn�t particularly care, his mind so busy that he found it easier just to
let it go blank. Instead, he concentrated on the menial task of simply smoking
Van�s cigarettes. He would eventually have to buy his own.

Thick-soled boots against
concrete not cracked or littered with garbage alerted him to Tseng�s approach.
Ichi took one last drag of his Woodard�s Lights and flicked it to the ground,
grinding the butt beneath his heel. He moved off the car as Ken and Maki
stepped inside it, slamming the doors behind them.

�There is no backing out
now,� Tseng informed him, gesturing that Ichi follow as the other two Turks
drove away.

Ichi raised a brow as they
headed towards the massive ShinRa tower with what had to be at least ten glass
doors marking the entryway, sun shining brightly off them.

�Ya think I wanna return to
t�slums?� he questioned, wondering if Tseng had lost his damn mind somewhere
along the way. Who actually chose to live in the slums?

�You would be surprised how
many people would prefer to return,� the Wutaiian answered as he stepped
forward, hand smoothly pulling a keycard from his pocket and swiping it in
front of a dark box. There was a quiet beep before one of the doors popped,
allowing Tseng to pull it open as he gestured Ichi inside. �Sometimes, they do
not want to let go.�

Ichi snorted as he entered
in ahead of the Wutaiian, tugging almost self-consciously on his too-short
shirt to cover his exposed belly. �I ain�t like those�� His words trailed off
as he got his first glimpse of the inside of ShinRa headquarters.

It�s ceiling stretched high
above him, lit with bright flourescent lights. The lobby was expansive, with
plenty of space for the many people to mill about without even having to worry
about bumping into one another. A pair of stairs curved around either side of a
massive front desk, leading up to another floor and to either side,
glass-walled elevators rose up and down.

He couldn�t help his awe,
hating how much he felt like the slum rat he was. While he wasn�t
self-conscious, it was somewhat overwhelming. Tseng didn�t seem to notice his
reaction, instead brushing past him with determination and heading straight for
the large desk, which was obviously the central hub of business in the lobby.
Ichi trailed after him, hands shoved in his pockets and internally wishing for
another cigarette. He let his own eyes rake over the people.

He saw little Turks and a
few SOLDIERs or simply army grunts in uniform. Most of those in the lobby wore
suits and serious expressions; there were even a few scientists in white lab
coats and thick glasses, looking every part the nerd. Ichi slinked next to
Tseng, scarcely paying any attention to the Wutaiian as his over-stimulated
brain struggled to absorb all of this new information.

There was so much bright,
open space. He wasn�t certain how to deal with it, used to the cramped quarters
of the slums and hiding in the shadows.

�What name will you wish to
be called?� Tseng questioned from his side, dragging Ichi�s attention back to
the Wutaiian. �Will Ichigo suffice? Or would you prefer Renaurd?�

Immediately, the redhead
responded in the negative, his voice actually quite loud in the almost reverent
quiet. �Hell no! Gimme a nick or sumthin�, yo.� He tried not to wonder why the
Wutaiian had known his last name.

Tseng raised a brow before
turning back towards the document in front of him. �Reno, it is then.� The pen
scratched across the paper as he ignored the appreciative stares from the
secretary in front of him. Ichi took that moment to continue with his perusal
of the lobby, sliding interested aquamarine eyes around those gathered at the
front desk.

There was some greasy-haired
scientist looking as if he hadn�t bathed in a week, and two men in nearly
matching brown suits argued with a flustered secretary, security heading their
way. A dark-skinned man with a bald head nodded as another, shorter man
described something to him, and Ichi�s thoughts abruptly derailed as his gaze
fell on the second man. He raked his eyes over a well-fitted suit covering a
trim body, dark hair perfectly cut.

Something inside of Ichi
grinded to a halt until he was left staring like a moron. His heart began to
beat at a rapid pace, though he didn�t understand why, and in his mind, he was
chanting for this man to turn around. He had to see his face with a
determination so strong that Ichi hadn�t even realized he was staring.

Then suddenly, as if hearing his unvoiced thought, the man did turn only to
stare straight at Ichi. Amber eyes met aquamarine, and his breath caught in his
throat, raking his gaze over this stranger�s appearance. Dark hair, somewhat
clean-shaven, soft lines with a masculine set to his jaw, and vivid eyes that
were the most amazing shade that Ichi had ever seen. He couldn�t look away,
feeling a shiver race down his spine.

Unconsciously, he licked his
lips, fighting down an urge to simply stalk over there and introduce himself,
to find out this man�s name, to know him.

�Reno, if you would prefer
to be Corneo�s whipping boy, I would be most happy to arrange it,� Tseng
declared tersely, his voice cutting through the fog that had settled over Ichi.
His breath came back to him in a whoosh that he hadn�t even realized he had
been holding.

He blinked as a strange
feeling coiled in Ichi�s belly. It wasn�t unsettling, merely significant, as if
something important had just happened, something that he should always
remember. That man, those amber eyes� He couldn�t understand it, but he knew
without knowing why that there was something there, something he had been looking for.

�What are you looking at?�
Tseng demanded impatiently, beginning to feel a tic forming in his left eyebrow.

Ichi swallowed thickly,
gradually feeling the warmth in his cheeks fade. �Who� who be �dat?� Although
the man had finally turned around, he still couldn�t look away, as if he would
be missing something vitally important. A notion began to burn in his mind
then, a strong desire unlike anything he had ever felt before. Even stronger
than his yearning to be free from the slums.

The Turk followed the line
of Ichi�s stare with his own gaze, trying to discern what had captivated his
attention. He smirked when he recognized the other man.

�That,� he explained with
some amusement, �is Reeve Tuesti, the architect who designed Midgar and head of
Urban Development.� He tugged on the younger man�s arm, using enough strength
to pull him away. �And if you actually succeed in the Turks, you might get to
meet him some day.�

�I�ll make it,� Ichi, who
was now to be known as Reno, mumbled under his breath. He couldn�t ignore them,
even if he didn�t understand the strange emotions flittering through his body
and fluttering in his chest. He didn�t really believe in love at first sight,
but he knew immediately that it was at least lust. That man, Reeve,
was simply gorgeous.�

The Wutaiian blinked as he
shot his newest recruit a strange look, almost knowing. �Pardon?�

�I�m going to meet him,�
the redhead reiterated a bit louder, sucking in a deep breath as he allowed the
Turk second-in-command to lead him away. �I�ll make it.� There was no doubt in
his mind, from that point, one hand idly clenched at his side. He cast one
final look at the back of a dark head, silently vowing to himself.

He was going to meet that
man.

On the other side of the
room, Reeve fumbled through his words as he attempted to explain to Rude, the
Turk he had recruited for this particular mission, exactly what he needed. But
he kept drawing a blank, mind inexplicably stunted by that one event, that
strange connection with the boy across the lobby. His eyes were so bright,
incredibly so, and he had held Reeve�s gaze with heat smoldering behind those
aquamarine irises.

Reeve had felt his pulse
quicken at just the sight, unable to help the lingering thought that he was the
prettiest male that Reeve had ever seen. His brain derailed then as his eyes
widened, not even realizing that Rude was watching him with slight confusion.
He had NOT just thought that. Reeve was straight, heterosexual; he liked women.
He had never looked twice at another man, and yet� there was this fascination
with the boy. He wanted to take another look, not that the face wasn�t going to
be forever burned in his mind.

A flush spread across his
cheeks as he unconsciously clutched tighter to the documents in his hand,
wondering why that one glance had him completely undone.

�--ir? Mr. Tuesti?� Rude�s
voice broke through his thoughts.

Reeve blinked, realizing
that he had been staring off into space like an idiot, crumpling the documents
in his hand. He flushed brighter, working to straighten out the papers as he
took several deep, steadying breaths, trying to remember what he was supposed
to be doing. But all his mind could recall was bright red hair and aquamarine
eyes filled with yearning.

�Is everything all right?�
Rude questioned, concern in his voice.

Reeve nodded distractedly,
sifting through the documents and scanning them with faint confusion. �Yes. It
is� uh�� he trailed off, frantically trying to recall their conversation and
drawing a blank. What was wrong with him?

�How soon do you need the
report?� The Turk was being surprisingly patient, and Reeve thought he almost
detected a hint of amusement in the bald man�s words. As for the report, he
frenetically sifted through his memories, skirting past recent shots of bright
red hair and finally settling on the right words. Right! The Report!

He nodded. �By the end of
the week, if possible,� he managed to get out, hurriedly thrusting the
documents into Rude�s hands, the Turk taking them immediately. �Now, if you�ll
excuse me, I believe I have a meeting.�

Reeve didn�t wait for
Rude�s response, simply too flustered to form a coherent thought. Instead, he
turned and headed for the elevator, pulling out his keycard and swiping it
quickly. He brushed a hand over his face, able to feel the burning heat from
the flush as he did so, and groaned in embarrassment.

What the hell had come
over him? And over a male, a boy at that, no less! He clearly must have been
losing his mind. Still, that didn�t stop the thought from circuitously skating
through his brain. Just who was that boy?

He very nearly made a
mental note to ask Tseng before his eyes widened in shock, almost causing him
to stumble into the elevator. He pressed the correct button with an unconscious
movement, and as the doors slid shut, Reeve rubbed his palm over his face,
unable to believe his own insane behavior. The way that boy had looked at him
and how he had returned the stare, the strange shiver that had raced up his
spine, it was all so surreal, like it had happened to another person. Still, it
was something that he needed to forget, and he resolved to push it to the back
of his mind. Of all things, Reeve was not gay.

So when the elevator
dinged, depositing him on the 47^th floor, a composed and collected
Reeve stepped out, smoothing down the ruffles in his suit. He smiled like he
didn�t have a care in the world.

After all, chances were he
would never see that boy again.

-�� -�� -�� -

Famous last words, eh? Leave a review before you go
and I�ll have a happy muse! Thanks!

-�� -�� -�� -

SneakyOne: It seems a lot
of people were looking forward to this, so I�m glad I finally started working
on it. I�m even more happy to see that you�re enjoying it. I hope you liked
this chapter just as much. Thanks!!

Samma: You�ll be happy to
know that I�ve got this mostly complete. I�m on the ninth part right now and
the only thing that�s holding me up is waiting on my beta. She�s gotten so
slack, that silly girl. But I understand, since we are also roommates. Her
school schedule is as busy as mine! Anyways, that�s off topic. I�m so happy
that you like my Reno! I�m always a bit sketchy when it comes to him because
its hard to find a balance when you don�t have much of a background to go by,
especially since he�s so different in Advent Children than in FF7. Like I say,
I always strive for an element of realism so I�m VERY happy to hear that you
see it. Thanks!!

Overdose Delusion: I don�t
know who did it and this may sound vain, but I agree with you. I may not be the
best writer out there but I definitely deserve more than one star. Thanks for
the encouragement though. I do need it. I�ve read your works but I am a very
bad reader, I�m so lazy I never review! I know, it�s terrible of me. But I like
your Cloud and Reno, I do! So I�m happy to see that you like mine! It makes me
all sparkly, lol. Big thanks!!

Ri: It seems I left
everyone hanging for too long before I posted this, they were all desperate for
it and gobbled it right up, lol. But I�m glad to see that you liked it. I�m
always worried when I start a new fic that it might not be the same quality as
my others, but reviewers always prove me wrong! I promise, I�ll update as quick
as I can. It all depends on my beta. Thanks for the support!!
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shattered Boundaries

Ichi gave one last token wriggle, adesperate attempt to break free, but the elbow to his side and the arm like aniron band around his legs let him know there was no escape. He was fuckingdoomed.

Ichi gave one last token wriggle, a
desperate attempt to break free, but the elbow to his side and the arm like an
iron band around his legs let him know there was no escape. He was fucking
doomed.