A faint orange glow illuminated the bustling streets as the sun set behind the city's illustrious skyscrapers, casting shadows upon the smaller structures of Eden's outskirts. Oerba Yun Fang walked along the empty street, though she could still hear the chaos at the heart of Cocoon's capital city humming in the background. Her ears still rang with the echoes of blaring horns and cacophony of deafening babbles as civilians, young and old alike, raced through the rush hour traffic, eager to return home after an exhausting day of work. After many hungry, sleepless nights in Eden's industrial district, Fang's unsuccessful attempts to find employment led her to test her luck on the quiet outskirts of the capital.

The ambient noise and lighting in the area paled in comparison to the bright city lights and clamour, but it was a nice transition and her migraine had finally disappeared. Fang walked at a slow pace, reveling in the quietude as she listened to the clacking of her open toed boots against the pavement. Though her likelihood of finding a job in the tranquil area was far slimmer than her chances at the restless square – not that she had much of a fighting chance to begin with – she found herself in silence for the first time since she left Gran Pulse. An aching sadness spread through her soul like wildfire as she thought of her home, threatening to overwhelm her. She missed the vast green plains, the endless rivers, boundless lakes, limitless blue sky, and even the brooding mountains that overlooked her village. She missed her friends; her family. Fang choked back tears as memories of her sister flashed through her mind; Vanille.

Fang inhaled deeply in attempt to calm herself as sobs racked her body, choking when the dense polluted air entered her lungs. Her heart clenched as she buried her memories behind her cold green eyes and she continued her trek down the deserted road. The last of the sun's rays took its leave and darkness washed over the pitiful lands. She looked to the sky for comfort, only to find none. How long has it been since she's seen a star in the sky? Angrily, she tore her glare from the incessant black and scanned the streets for shelter. It was far too early to call it a day but she was too exhausted to continue her fruitless quest for work.

She startled when the insistent grumbling of her stomach reminded her of how little she's eaten, begging her to spend the miserable amount of gil in her pouch. With a weary sigh, Fang turned onto the larger road and was blessed with dimly lit neon "open" signs. She was in the middle of deciding which way to go when a wolf whistle sounded from across the street to her left. Upon closer inspection, she realized she had come across a group of unruly middle aged deadbeats out for another nightly round of drinking, loitering and soliciting. Not wanting to deal with the drunken scum, Fang turned right onto the wide street.

Unsynchronized footsteps behind her suggested she was being followed, no doubt by the same group from across the street. Fang clenched her fists and quickened her pace, too tired for physical confrontation. The footfalls became louder and faster. They traveled with her until the neon signs of stored still open for business were a thing of the past. Infuriated, Fang stopped dead in her tracks and whirled around to face her harassers, smirking as the men halted in surprise.

She counted four men, none smaller than her in size, but that didn't matter. They were all the same. Anyone who had the audacity to antagonize her almost always ended up as a bloody heap. Fang took her time measuring up her burly opponents. Throughout her days in Cocoon, she had endured nothing but judgemental glares and insulting whispers behind her back. She was a proud Yun warrior, forced to keep her head down as she walked, too afraid to look up and face the scrutiny of the austerely clad Cocoonians. But she'd had enough, and these unlucky bastards were going to take the brunt of her ferocity.

The speaker of the group – a gruff unshaven man who resembled more of a bear than a human – stepped forward and bravely wrapped an arm around Fang's shoulders, chuckling when he felt her stiffen at the touch.

"You looked like you could use some company, beautiful." He pulled her in closer and gave her what he thought was a charming smile as his friends egged him on. Fang could hear her heart pump viciously as her muscles tensed, eager to finally be put to use after so long. The man took her silence as consent and grinned, his rancid breath escaping through rotten yellow teeth. His grubby hand left her shoulder and made its way down to her waist – but he didn't stop there.

Without missing a beat, Fang grabbed and ducked under the offending appendage, nearly twisting it off in the process. The man bent over, gripping his left arm and let out a pained shout before a swift hard kick to the side of his face had him on the ground, slipping in and out of consciousness. Fang cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms above her head, satisfied she hadn't lost her touch.

The man's growling friends reminded Fang she wasn't quite finished yet. "You bitch!" One of the men diverted his attention to his unconscious friend while the other two advanced on her.

When one of them made a move to grab her, she simply lifted her leg and executed a front kick that sent him reeling back into his friend. Her smirk turned into a full ear to ear grin. Overconfident people were the easiest to deal with.

"You're going to pay for that!" He ran forward with his arm pulled back, readying for a punch. Fang ducked under his sloppy swing and used the man's forward momentum to pull him down, bringing her knee up to meet chest.

"Tsk. Such untrained animals," she sneered. Just as she was about to end the man in the same fashion as she did the previous bloke, an arm snaked around her neck from behind and fixed her in a headlock.

Fang reached up and raked her uncut nails through the flesh on his face. With an agonized scream, the man relinquished his hold on her neck in favour of clutching his stinging face. Fang's right fist met his chin in a ferocious uppercut and his head whipped back just in time for a kick to meet his groin. He joined his friends on the cold concrete groaning in agony. Fang stood back and admired the heap of groaning bodies on the ground, heart still racing.

One, two and three… oh shit, there were–

Fan turned around in time for a first to meet her jaw with a sickening crunch, throwing her off her feet and into the nearest wall. She grasped her mandible and struggled to get on her feet as her mind reeled from the bone splitting punch she had just received.

"Don't count me out just yet, you Pulsian skank," the man spat the last two words.

Fang's head arced back painfully and she struggled with the hands grasping her throat and hair. She wanted nothing more than to run a spear right through his smug face. A coppery substance began to pool in her mouth and she fought to get her attacker back into view. Without warning, she spat the blood directly at his face and she fell to the pavement when the man released her and clawed at his eyes in an effort to regain vision. The man whimpered pathetically when he felt an unrelenting force pull him forward by his collar.

"Don't. Touch. The hair," Fang growled.

He quickly nodded in agreement and let out a sigh of relief when Fang released her grip, only to receive a solid right hook from the Pulsian. He joined his friends on the body littered concrete and the road once again returned to its silent state. Fang stood back and admired her handiwork; this time certain she didn't miss anyone. She stretched her jaw, slightly wincing at the pain but otherwise satisfied it wasn't broken. Without a word, she turned and continued down the dark and lonely road.

Lightning tensed as the heavy bag swung back in her direction at full force, the chains suspending it from the ceiling creaking in protest when its swing was halted at the lowest point. A torrent of fine black sand escaped the fist sized gash in the expensive leather material, collecting below on the dirty cement floor. What the hell?! This is the third one this year! Before she could vent her new frustration by thrashing the material beyond repair, a familiar ring sounded through the empty gym.

A feeling of mild dread pooled in her stomach and she rushed to gather her belongings, ignoring the call completely. She could complain about the equipment another day. The thin sheen of sweat canvassing her lightly muscled frame protested as the damp tank top and shorts were peeled from her body and shoved messily into her bag with the rest of her gear. Dread turned to mild fear when she spared a glance at the time. Donning a loose fitting pair of jeans and a thin hooded sweatshirt, Lightning marched briskly out of the empty building to the nearest bus stop. Crap, I was supposed to be home two hours ago.

Living in the nicer part of the city meant a daily commute to the training gym, which wouldn't be a problem unless she missed the last bus, which would otherwise mean a one hour long walk back. The urge to hit something returned when she spotted the familiar bus in the far distance, well on its way to her home… without her. Double crap. Lightning contemplated hailing a taxi, but in the end decided against it. She was already late, another hour wouldn't make a difference and there was no sense in wasting money. Calling her was definitely not an option. With a weary sigh, she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and jogged the long way home.

The cold weather went unnoticed as Lightning jogged down the gated community, unperturbed by the eerie silence of her opulent neighbourhood. The street was long but houses were few. They all looked the same to her; each had unnecessarily large double front doors, well kept yards and multiple ridiculous supercars parked out front. She spotted a faint light at the end of the dark street and slowed her pace to a dilatory walk though her heart rate opted to do the complete opposite. Within minutes, Lightning found herself at the end of a spacious empty driveway illuminated by the dim porch light. She debated turning back and spending the night at the gym but her guilt erased the cowardly thoughts from her mind. She had a responsibility.

Lightning steeled herself and wrestled with the lock, not bothering to minimize the noise as her keys rattled against each other. She entered the large abode and shut the door quietly behind her when she realized she was alone. The house was grand; the only place she could call home, but it was anything but warm and welcoming. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lightning made her way past the foyer to the staircase when a quiet voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You're late." The voice was harsh and accusing, but Lightning could sense the hurt underlying her sister's words. "You promised to be home for dinner today." Lightning didn't turn to face the smaller girl on the couch; she was too afraid of what she would see. She was never good with tears.

"I got held up at the gym. Sorry." She spared her sister an apologetic glance over her shoulder but immediately regretted it when she spotted the trail of tears flowing freely from the younger girl's face. Her sisterly instincts told her to go hold and comfort the crying girl, but her defenses existed to protect Serah as much as herself. She only wished her sister could understand.

"The gym closed three hours ago!" Lightning flinched. It was unlike her sweet little sister to speak to her in such a manner but then again, lately they have been everything but sweet to each other.

"I missed the last bus," she offered lamely.

"The last bus leaves two hours after the gym closes!" Serah huffed. Her sister could be so mule headed. "Never mind, but the least you could do is answer your phone so I know you haven't worked yourself to death yet."

Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Why is it that every conversation with her sister eventually becomes about her line of work?

"Serah, I'm tired. Can we not do this right now?" Lightning turned and climbed the stairs, eager to take a hot shower. She was halfway to the top of the staircase when Serah's next words had her marching back down angrily. "Excuse me?"

"I said; I'm sorry I'm in the way of your life." Lightning's eyes widened in anger when her sister crossed her arms smugly, content with the reaction she was able to solicit.

"Serah, you are my life," she emphasized slowly. "Everything I've done – I'm doing – is for you!" Lightning fought to regain control of her emotions. Indoor voices, Lightning. How could her sister be so ignorant?

"Well no one asked you to." Serah braced herself, expecting Lightning to slap her. Instead, she saw a flash of sadness behind her sister's icy blue eyes before ferocity took over.

"Mom and dad asked me to," she spat, angry at herself for playing such a card against her baby sister. Serah rolled her eyes, having expected such an excuse.

"I'm eighteen; I can take care of myself! They would've wanted you to be happy, not throw your life away for me. I want a sister, Claire; not a warden!" Lightning cringed at the use of her real name; a name she had abandoned a long time ago, but something about hearing Serah call her by her given name brought her joy, no matter how fleeting it was.

"I'm happy as long as you're happy." Though Serah might not believe her words for a second, they were all she had left to cling onto. It had been her philosophy for half a decade, and not even Serah could change it.

Serah scoffed quietly, but it was enough to hurt. Such a sound was not fitting for her beloved counterpart. They shared many things; azure eyes and strawberry blonde hair being a few of them, but the bitterness that had rooted itself deep inside of her was something she did not wish to share. She knew what Serah was doing. All the emotions the younger girl claimed could only belong to Claire, whom she locked away in the utmost unreachable parts of her soul, seemed to amplify in the presence of her younger lookalike. It annoyed her.

"It's late. You have school tomorrow." Lightning watched unmoving as Serah rolled her eyes and marched crisply to her room.

"Goodnight, Lightning," Serah called before slamming the door shut.

The older Farron headed dejectedly towards the kitchen; all the arguing had made her hungry. She didn't get it, her habit of missing dinner and coming home late was more than routine; so why did Serah have to make such a big deal out of it?

Upon entering the kitchen, she was faced with a simple expertly wrapped gift box and a beautifully decorated cake on the small dining table. Everything fell into place when she spotted the twenty one unlit candles sitting atop the homemade chocolate cake.

Worst birthday ever.

Lebreau hummed melodically as she wiped down her counter. The sun had set not too long ago and her last customer left just before the sun set. Her bar was the only store on the block to be open past midnight but she had learned from many years of experience that no one ever came in past nine o'clock on a Monday night so the bar owner was surprised to hear the familiar jingling bells when her door pushed open, letting in the cold night breeze. Huh, well this is a first.

The woman who entered her bar was a sight for sore eyes. Considering her line of work, the majority of her customers were stocky blue collar workers almost twice her age and three times her size. This woman didn't look a day past twenty one, but she did look like she had seen better days. Judging from the deep blue traditional attire she recognized as a sari, the woman must have come from Gran Pulse. The Pulsian had messy long dark hair, and strikingly green emerald eyes. Behind all the dirt and blood, Lebreau could see a beautifully sculpted face and slightly tanned complexion, as well as a beauty mark under the woman's right eye. There was a heavy lethargic air associated with the Pulsian and her eyes spoke tales of great suffering. She took a seat at the bar and glanced nervously at the shelves behind the counter.

"What can I get for ya?" Lebreau waited patiently as the woman scanned her inventory. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse but gentle nonetheless.

"Just water. Please." Lebreau quirked an eyebrow at the strange request and laughed, causing the woman to scowl at her.

"You came to a bar for water?" She immediately regretted her comment when the Pulsian set a handful of gil on the counter. She could tell without even counting that it wasn't be nearly enough to purchase her cheapest drink.

"It's all I have."

A heavy silence fell through the room before Lebreau reached under her counter for two shot glasses and a bottle of her finest whiskey. She filled the small glasses and set one in front of the woman. She winked and took her shot as her patron watched in confusion.

"It's my treat." She smiled when the woman nodded her thanks and swallowed her drink, grimacing as the alcohol burned her throat on its way down.

"I'm Lebreau, and you are?" The Pulsian hesitated before smiling for the first time since she entered the bar – since she set foot on Cocoon actually. It was a small smile, but a genuine one nonetheless.

"I'm Fang." Lebreau waited for Fang to offer any more information about herself but it became obvious that Fang wasn't the talkative type. Luckily, she was a social magician when it came to people.

"You come here from Pulse?"

Fang scoffed at the blatant incorrect use of her home's name. "I'm a huntress of the Yun clan in the village of Oerba on the continent of Gran Pulse." Her voice brimmed with pride as she mentioned her home. "I came here for work."

Lebreau wasn't surprised. Pulsians immigrate to Cocoon hoping to escape the tribal life but the cultural barrier and temperate segregation meant most didn't stay long, and judging from Fang's bitter tone, she wasn't planning on being around for much longer.

"No luck eh?" The silence that followed confirmed her suspicions. "Cocoon's not so bad, just give it some time."

Fang mentally scoffed. Not so bad? This place is a bloody hell hole! She missed her home and wouldn't give a gorgon's ass about the money if it weren't for Vanille.

The mildly amused bartender watched Fang brood in silence until the sound of bells once again disturbed her peace. A tall lanky officer tipped his hat at Lebreau in greeting and turned his attention to the obvious outsider in the bar.

"I received a call recently, something about a Pulsian female suspected of attacking four unarmed men outside a bar." He coughed nervously when Fang met his eyes with an icy glare. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you miss?"

"Not a thing." Fang smirked, fully aware of her bloodstained features. Did those bastards really go crying to the police? Ha!

"Ma'am, may I remind you that assaulting a person is punishable by up to two years in prison?"

Fang's smirk wavered as her mind raced with the new information. She couldn't afford to go to jail – there are people depending on her – but she didn't have an excuse and the evidence was written all over her face and clothing.

"When exactly did this supposed assault happen, officer?" Lebreau questioned suspiciously.

"About a half hour ago ma'am."

"Then you're antagonizing the wrong person because my friend here hasn't left this bar since she came in at eight o'clock this morning." Lebreau shot Fang a look. Just play along!

"Really now?" The officer took up the seat beside Fang and addressed her directly. "You don't look like someone who's been drinking for thirteen hours straight." Lebreau rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to break a wine bottle over his thick head.

"I don't allow my employees to drink on the job," Lebreau stated coldly, tired of his prodding.

"Do you allow your employees to show up for work looking like this?" He asked, referring to Fang's ripped bloodstained and dirty clothes.

"How many bouncers do you know finish a shift looking all polished and clean, huh?" Her glare dared him to ask another question.

Deciding it was too late and that he was too tired to deal with this mediocre complaint, the officer bitterly thanked them for their time and took his leave. Fang waited a few seconds after the door closed before she spoke.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I wasn't kidding you know. This place can get pretty rough at times and anyone who can make four grown men cry to the police is worth hiring. Plus, it'd be nice to have more women around; this place is a sausage fest." Lebreau laughed as Fang's eyes lit up like fireworks.

"Wow… thank you."

Fang spent the remaining bar hours behind the counter where Lebreau taught her the basics of bartending, the different types of alcoholic drinks, and how to mix them. When closing hour came, Lebreau blessed the Pulsian with yet another surprise.

"If you don't already have a place to stay, I've been looking to get a roommate for a while." Lebreau pocketed her keys after making sure her door was locked and waited patiently for an answer.

"Are… are you sure?" Fang couldn't believe her ears. Lebreau's kindness was overwhelming for someone in her situation. "I mean if it's not too much trouble…" She felt an arm slip around her shoulders and drag her forward.

"Well I'm not giving you a choice, am I?"

Their footsteps fell into sync as Fang marched beside her new friend down the dark, not so lonely road.