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Chapter Text

Phones blared with shrill screams as coffee and smoke clung to each inhale Tifa took within the cramped office. Women in various Shinra formal wear flitted around precarious paper stacks while contorting phone cords to follow their indiscernible pathways. Filing cabinets jutted out from every available wall space with one or two acting as makeshift additions to desks. One lone plastic plant wilted near the door by which Tifa hovered. Understandably, her presence had yet to draw anyone’s gaze. Sweat beaded under her leather gloves as Tifa attempted to gain even one person’s attention.

"Excuse me?"

Tifa could hardly hear her own hesitant voice over the chaotic cacophony. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and nearly choked on the pervasive cigarette smoke.

"Excuse me,” she declared firmly. "Mr. Lavette from SOLDIER recruitment sent me to HR to discuss my application?"

Tifa started to get frustrated, until she saw a woman head her direction while perusing a thick folder. Hastily smoothing down her leather skirt, Tifa affixed her brightest grin as she continued.

"Yes, hi! I was wondering why Mr. Lavette sent me to HR when all the brochures clearly stated that—oof!" Tifa gasped as the portly woman collided with her.

"Oh, heavens!" the woman shrieked and clutched at her collar. Unfortunately, she smacked Tifa in the head with the folder during the process. "Sweetheart, you gave me a shock! So sorry, dear, I didn’t see you. How can I help?" She peered at Tifa through scarlet reading glasses dangling from a beaded chain. "On second thought, aren’t you just a pretty little picture? Larsa, take a gander at this little button!"

The woman ushered Tifa further into the tight space as she continued to effuse. "Come, come, take a seat!" She pushed Tifa down into a tilted chair with wheels. Before Tifa could speak, the woman barrelled around the chair to the opposite desk while spouting more questions.

"Tea? Coffee? Our grounds are slightly better than the front desk’s brew so I hope you’ll remember when—oh, drat! Phone calls and emails all day long, but as soon as the first real person shows up, the pot’s empty! I’ll get started on making a new one for you, dear. I’m sure it will be ready in no time. Larsa, pass me the bin, will you?"

"—and tell him to keep his grubby paws to himself before turning around and asking for more leave than he’s worth or I’ll rout all his calls to Science for the next month!" a blonde woman roared into the phone before slamming it onto the receiver. "Damn those leeches! Next time admin has a secretary call for them, I’m marching up there myself to check if they still got any balls left or if it’s ignorance that they don’t know how stupid they’re being." She seethed while reaching under her desk to pass along a mesh bin.

"Thank you, Larsa!" the first woman chirped while reaching for the coffee pot that teetered upon a filing cabinet.

"Yeah, yeah," Larsa groused and reached into a cigarette pack from her desk. "I mean, honestly," she shoved a cigarette between her red lipstick, "what do they think we’re here for?" Her gold bangle glowed as a flame sputtered between her fingertips. "Human Resources? My ass!" Larsa brought the fire to her cigarette. "More like Hellfire Repellent. SOLDIER wouldn’t last a day before combusting if we all took a holiday." The cigarette caught and Larsa extinguished her flames by clenching a fist. "Pax, you gotta let us try it sometime." Larsa pointed her cigarette at the woman dumping out the old coffee grounds."You’re the only one who said no."

"And leave all those poor boys to Lazard? Larsa, you big tease!" Pax squealed and started measuring out spoonfuls of SHINRA: STANDARD BREW coffee. "I would never take a holiday at the same time as anyone else. That would be spiteful, you know." She added with a solemn nod.

"Yeah, exactly the point, Pax," Larsa sighed, smoke billowing out from her nostrils. She finally saw Tifa and gave her a shrewd appraisal. "What brings you here, sweet cheeks? Daddy wants you to ask for money?"

Tifa flushed at her collarbones and felt the heat threaten to creep up her neck and stain her cheeks crimson. She tightened her jaw and deigned not to answer Larsa. Pax predictably answered for her.

"Larsa, for shame! Be civil to the poor dear! She looks to have come from a long way and I won’t have you scaring off any children. Especially not visitors. And put that out! Kids in Midgar have enough trouble growing up right without you adding to the smog." Larsa impassively flicked her cigarette and scattered ash across her desk files.

Pax finished making the coffee and hurriedly plopped into her desk chair. She straightened her reading glasses and gazed warmly at Tifa. "It’s a bit hectic in here, but we get the job well done. My name is Pax, and that’s Larsa. Now, dear, tell me what you’re after."

Tifa finally had the woman’s full attention and rushed to get her words out. "My name is Tifa Lockhart and I’m here to apply for SOLDIER."

"Wonderful!" cried Pax.

"Ain’t we all," scoffed Larsa, but her keen gaze seemed to sharpen even further upon Tifa. She zeroed in on Tifa’s gloves.

"Hush, Larsa!" admonished Pax. She turned back to smile and gush, "Tifa, I’m so proud of you! But, dear, this is HR. The recruitment office is on the floor below. No need to be ashamed! It’s easy to get lost in Shinra. I’ll take you down there myself!" Pax winked and made to spring from her chair, but Tifa held up her hands.

"No, wait! I’ve already been to recruitment. Mr. Lavette sent me here." Pax quirked a questioning brow at Tifa over her glasses while Larsa suddenly stilled, smoke idly wafting from her aloft cigarette. "I hope you can help me. I met Mr. Lavette and asked to turn in my SOLDIER application, but he waved me away and directed me to HR. The brochures said applications are handled at the recruitment desk so I was wondering why he sent me here…" Tifa trailed off as Pax frowned and Larsa’s face turned to stone. Tifa ducked her head to stare at her mud-crusted training boots. "Unless this is supposed to be a rejection..." she mumbled, feeling a hollow ache in her stomach.

A slam jolted Tifa. She snapped her head up to see Larsa, palm flat on the desk, bangle glowing, and cigarette starting to spark dangerously. "Damn it! That bas—"

"Larsa!" squeaked Pax.

"Just wait ‘til I fu—"

"Language!"

"—rip out his—"

"Not in front of the girl!"

"—shove it up his own ass—"

"She’s a child!"

"—and choke on a malboro’s—"

"ENOUGH!" roared Pax, shooting to her feet and finally interrupting Larsa’s tirade successfully. The whole office almost reached an eerie silence, except for the incessantly ringing phones. "Calm down! We can’t do anything if you burn down the building. And you’re scaring her!"

Larsa glanced at Tifa, who indeed shrank into her wobbly chair. Pax cleared her throat and Larsa locked eyes with her. The two women communicated silently. Larsa, riddled with hard edges and spite, coiled restlessly in her chair. Pax, round and soft, stood firm with a straight spine. Tifa was shocked as Larsa broke the contest of wills first by scowling down at her now blackened cigarette and stubbing it out on her desktop. Pax sighed, posture relaxing, and settled back down into her chair. The normal chatter and activity resumed as the other women began answering phone calls once more.

"Sorry, dear. Please forgive our resident coeurl. You haven’t done anything wrong and this is not a rejection." Pax smiled warmly at Tifa. "You’re not the first young lady to be sent to HR from recruitment and it isn’t your fault. If anything, Lt. Lavette needs some disciplinary correction." Tifa shot a wary glance at Larsa, but she seemed pointedly absorbed in growling to herself and punching at a calculator with excessive force.

The coffee pot beeped tiredly. Pax jumped up to pour steaming black coffee into a battered white mug. Her warm brown hands pressed the mug into Tifa’s gloved ones. "Sugar, dear? No cream, I’m afraid."

Tifa shook her head, not having the heart to tell Pax she prefers tea. Pax squeezed Tifa’s shoulder and again returned to her chair.

"Now, tell me how you came to Shinra and why you want to be in SOLDIER. Of course, we’ll help you regardless, but it’ll be easier knowing you better. Besides, you look like you need some time off your feet."

Tifa glanced down and cradled the soothing warmth of the coffee mug. Pax seemed like what an encouraging mother should be and genuinely appeared to want to help. Tifa also loathed the idea of heading back to recruitment to face Mr. Lavette without understanding why she was sent away in the first place. Though the sinking in her gut told Tifa she already knew and was deluding herself. Mind made up, Tifa returned her gaze to Pax’s gentle brown eyes.

"I’m from a small mountain town called Nibelheim. It’s nestled in the foothills of Mt. Nibel on the Western continent…"

The hazy silhouette from Cloud’s hitched ride out of town vanished from view long before Tifa turned back to Nibelheim’s front gate. Her fingers settled against the creaking wood. She felt the frost melt beneath her fingertips and its chill pierced through her scattered thoughts.

He’s really gone…

Tifa scratched away the layer of frost until she met splinters. She paused and looked up at the sign with the scraggly scrawl that read Nibelheim. It might as well say Tifa Lockhart’s Past, Present, and Future. She had yet to see another town and only traversed the slopes of Mt. Nibel when she grew restless. Not that there were many options. The nearest town took almost a whole day of travel. It never mattered to Tifa before.

But Cloud left for Midgar, the biggest known city in Gaia, as if it were no big deal. Tifa thought Cloud was as woefully untraveled as she. Then again, had she ever asked him? Tifa’s nails dug further into the wood as she scrunched her nose in an attempt to recall their past conversations.

What do I even know about Cloud Strife?

Tifa tapped her pointer finger against the wooden post for each of Cloud’s qualities: Blonde, blue eyes, serious, quiet, loner, a year older than me, only has his mom, saved me on Mt. Nibel, wants to join SOLDIER.

Tap.

But Tifa could not think of another fact about Cloud to accompany her fidgeting. Her list should not be this short. Tifa and Cloud grew up in the same town, as next door neighbors even, and this was all she knew? What about his favorite food? Where is his dad? Had Cloud ever visited another town before?

How am I such a bad friend?

Pain lanced through Tifa’s finger as a splinter lodged under her nail from her pointless tapping. She hissed and inspected the damage. The splinter ran partially under her nail bed and would require a needle to remove. Tifa did not look forward to that. She could ignore it until later, though.

"Tifa!" Her father’s voice rang out across the town square. "What are you doing? It’s almost midmorning already." He stood near the entrance to the inn, arms crossed, and eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you enjoyed taking lessons from Master Zangan."

"Coming, Dad!" Tifa hollered. She sighed and felt her tense shoulders drop. If Tifa barely knew Cloud, had hardly noticed the quiet boy following her and her friends, then her aching heart would settle soon. His departure from Nibelheim would resemble the still air after a slow breeze gradually dissipated. Unobtrusive. Peaceful. A hushed whisper diminishing to silence. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, before heading towards the inn.

******

Pat, pat, bam.

"Good form, Tifa!" Master Zangan encouraged from behind the focus mitts he held aloft for Tifa to strike. "There’s a reason you’re my favorite student. No one applies themselves to lessons as much as you do. Now, repeat this combo, but add in that crescent kick you like so much at the end. Aim for my right hand and try to keep your center steady."

"Yes, Master!" Tifa gasped. She may have put too much of her energy into this lesson. Her heart thumped erratically with effort, but it did little to untangle her knot of emotions. Tifa started punching again.

Pat, pat, pat, smack.

"You know, I saw your little blonde friend hop into the courier’s truck this morning," Zangan remarked offhand. "Do you know where he’s off to?"

Pat, pat, pat, smack.

Tifa’s fist clenched even tighter and the splinter wedged deeper into her skin.

"He’s going to Midgar, sir. Cloud wants to join SOLDIER."

Pat, pat, pat, smack.

"Is he now? Hm." Zangan pursed his lips in thought. "He seems a little small to make it, but I’m glad he’s chasing his dreams. Everyone has to choose their own path eventually. I wonder where you’ll go, eh, Tifa?"

Pat, pat, pat, bam, smack.

"Whoa! Nice axe kick! I almost wasn’t ready to catch it! I appreciate your fervor, Tifa, but please stick to the combo. Wouldn’t want to get a black eye outside of our spars, eh?"

"Yes, I’m sorry, Master." Tifa ducked her head in shame.

"No harm done. Let’s resume."

Tifa’s splinter throbbed in pain.

******

"Hi, Tifa! Mind if we talk alone for a bit?" Gavlin hovered outside her front door and twisted a bunch of flowers in his hands. Tifa stopped at the sight and felt her heart sink.

"Hey, Gav. Dad’s not back from work yet, so our kitchen is free to use. Come in!" She attempted to plaster a smile on her face, but Gavlin seemed too nervous to notice.

"Sure, don’t mind if I do." He tripped over the doorstep after her and followed Tifa to the kitchen. She averted her eyes and busied her hands with opening cabinets.

"Do you want some tea? I have a couple Nibel Cakes leftover from my last batch—"

"These are for you!" He yelped and stuck the flowers under her nose. She jumped and hit her hand on the counter, vaguely aware of a slight pain from her splinter. "Oh, sorry, Tifa."

"No, Gav, it’s fine...but I can’t accept these flowers." She bit her lip and glanced between Gavlin and the flowers. Hurt dimmed his nervous energy and he contorted his face in confusion.

"But, I haven’t said anythin’ yet. I’ve been rehearsin’ and I never thought I wouldn’t even get past givin’ you the flowers…"

Tifa sighed and clasped her hands behind her back. "It isn’t hard to imagine what you intend. You aren’t the flower-giving type, Gav. I like you as a friend, nothing more." She fidgeted with her fingers and gauged his reaction.

Gavlin slumped, the flowers resting on the counter between them in his slack fingers. "Huh. With every guy settin’ off to find work, I thought I had as good a chance as any of ‘em." He released the flowers to scratch at his chin. "I never thought you were partial to anyone…"

"Gav, I don’t like anyone, I just am not interested. I’m sorry to hurt you."

Gavlin shook his head, then dropped his hand and scowled. "It’s Cloud, isn’t it?"

Tifa froze, her fingers stuttering over the splinter she had yet to pry from her nail. "What?"

"All the other guys left town and you didn’t so much as see ‘em off, but Cloud," Gavlin grimaced, "got the special treatment. And I see you, you’re always starin’ off towards the road. You’ve been moonin’ all week! I just thought you had taken to meditatin’ with Zangan, but now I see. You’ve been pinin’ after that weirdo!"

"Gav!" Tifa shouted. "I do not like Cloud! And he isn’t a weirdo! At least he’s doing something with his life rather than staying at home wondering when anything remotely remarkable will fall into his lap! Thank you for the flowers, I’m sorry I can’t accept them. Now please, leave! I have to start making dinner."

Gavlin’s shoulders hunched to his ears and he gave a curt nod. He spun around and flinched at the sight of Tifa’s father standing in the doorway. "Sir," Gavlin muttered as he scurried around Brian Lockhart and out the door. Dad shut the door and raised his eyebrows at Tifa.

"Wow, sweetheart. I get he was too pushy, but that was a little harsh at the end there." Dad hung his cap, kicked off his boots and walked over to give Tifa a brief hug. He eyed the plucked and worried flower bunch on the counter. "Might be bad taste to put these in a vase, huh?"

Tifa sighed. She rested her elbows on the counter and dropped her face into her palms. "Sorry, dad. Welcome home." Her exasperation was clear even muffled through her hands. Dad chuckled and patted Tifa’s head.

"No worries, sweetheart. I’m sure no lasting harm was done. Gavlin will leave town someday and find himself. Who knows? Your words may even spur him into action sooner than he thought!" Dad started to head towards the bathroom. "I’ll wash up and help with dinner after."

Tifa waved one hand lazily in response, then resumed her despondent position.

"I wasn’t talking about Gav though…" she murmured. Tifa knew it was too deep, but she still felt the phantom itch of the splinter scraping her scalp as she ran her fingers through her hair.

******

"Did you hear? Her son thinks he’s going to make it in SOLDIER!"

"A boy like that? He’s too small! And he didn’t even learn anything from a father either. I bet he’ll be crawling back through that gate before the month’s out."

"I’ll take that bet further and say he won’t even make it to Midgar before he runs home."

"What’s on the table? I’ll lend you my boy Gav for some repair work for free."

"Gav can’t find a handle on a hammer. No, I want something more worth my time."

The two women gossiping as they trudged across the square made no attempts to lower their voices. In fact, Tifa thought they wanted Claudia Strife to hear as they passed the Strife household. If Tifa could hear the garbage they spewed from her position by the gate, Claudia no doubt could too as she swept her front stoop. Claudia hesitated for a second, but she resumed sweeping.

Tifa waited until the gossip mongers disappeared into the store before rising from her sitting position. Since Gavlin mentioned it, Tifa had taken to meditating by the front gate every morning. Better to spend time centering herself and practicing breathing while she stared at the world beyond Nibelheim. Tifa could hardly help herself from gazing forlornly at the rolling plains each time she crossed the town square. Brushing off the dirt and powder snow, Tifa strode over to Claudia.

"Mrs. Strife, how are you?" Tifa attempted a nonchalant wave, but faltered a bit when Claudia continued sweeping. She noticed Claudia’s white-knuckled grip on the broom. "Mrs. Strife," Tifa took a deep breath to steady herself, "about Cloud—"

"Can’t you people at least criticize us in your own homes instead of splattering your filth on ours? I don’t have time to play your petty games." Claudia’s brisk broom strokes accented her harsh tone. Tifa recoiled and felt the rush of anger in her blood. She opened her mouth to respond in kind, but shut it swiftly with a snap as her mind caught up with her emotions.

Claudia glanced up and away again, still hiding behind her hair. "What, not so bold now you know I won’t lay down and take it? Leave me be, Tifa." She turned even further away in a clear dismissal.

But Tifa took slow breaths to cool her anger. Claudia’s tense muscles and hunched posture divulged her true feelings. Tifa recalled her early childhood when a stray cat was cornered by the mayor’s dog. Hissing and spitting, the cat swiped at the lunging dog to keep it at bay. Once the mayor called off his hound, the cat nearly collapsed while shaking from fear and pain. The resemblance struck Tifa and she strengthened her resolve. Tifa took a step forward and pitched her voice low.

"Mrs. Strife, I’m not here to criticize you. Or Cloud. Anyone who does should go take a hike to the reactor." Claudia slowed her sweeping and turned her head slightly towards Tifa. "I’m sorry for their words… and I’m sorry for not being a better friend to Cloud." Finally, Claudia faced Tifa. Their eyes met and Tifa felt her breath catch.

Blue. Such blue eyes. When calm, they resembled healing pools of water. But now, Cloud’s blue eyes pierced her core as they hardened and flashed like glacier ice. A gaze of anger and pain.

No, not Cloud’s. Claudia’s. Mother and son both betrayed their inner thoughts through their haunting gaze. How could Tifa forget? Had it been that long since she spoke with Cloud’s mother?

Did I even know they shared the same eyes?

Tifa swallowed back a sob at her revelation. Her feelings could be indulged in the privacy of her room. Right now, this was just further proof that Tifa Lockhart needed to repent.

"Cloud’s always had my back since before I can even remember. If I ever needed him, he wasn’t far. But me? I don’t know a thing about his life." Tifa’s vision blurred and tears threatened to spill over. Her clenched fists dug into her palms. Tifa felt the scab from her removed splinter crack. "I can’t tell you if he ever was in trouble or if Cloud felt lonely. I bet he did, because half the time I didn’t even think to include him, and the other half my friends," Tifa spat, "wanted nothing to do with him."

"But Cloud was the one who saved me when the bridge fell. Cloud gave me comfort when I lost my mom. Cloud never pushed his opinion on me, never fought for my attention, never asked anything of me. And what did I do? I asked for more. I asked for Cloud to promise to come to my rescue when I’m in trouble. Scared of facing a world without him, I fought to still have the comfort of Cloud in the back of my mind. And now I can’t stand myself. In the face of his vulnerability, I only thought of my own feelings. So, I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry, I’m not worthy of your son’s friendship. And I’m sorry for how people treat you. Even now, I can’t bring myself to defend him to their faces. Because I’m a coward."

Tifa gasped for air as her tears started to fall. She held Claudia’s gaze, but could only make out the blue of her eyes, of Cloud’s eyes.

Claudia sighed and shook her head. Cocking a hip and leaning against her broom, she sighed again. "Tifa, honey, I’m sorry. Those words weren’t meant for you. I was angry and you bore the blame. Don’t cry. I want you to listen to what I have to say." Tifa choked and tried to calm down. Claudia waited patiently until Tifa only sniffled.

"Now, you listen to me. Nobody earns love. Or friendship. Love is a gift and you can’t control who gives it to you or when. The only thing that’s earned in a relationship is trust." Tifa gulped and picked at her cracked scab. "My son is stubborn and headstrong enough that he’s already got yours. It seems to me that instead of trying to deserve something you already have, you should devote your time to being worthy of earning his trust."

"How?” Tifa croaked. “How do I do that?" She looked down at her hands. Her scab threatened to fall off completely and start bleeding anew.

"Well, Tifa." Claudia’s hand rested on her shoulder. "That’s for you to decide."

******

Glass clinked against the sink as Tifa washed the dishes. The repetitive motions soothed her frayed nerves even as the soap stung her open wound. Tifa’s scab had been picked off several times now and the pain almost failed to register. Tonight was the night.

"Dad?" Tifa handed off a dish to her father for drying. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, sweetheart." He swiped the cloth back and forth over the glass. "What’s up?"

"I’m leaving for Midgar."

Clang.

The glass dropped to the sink as Tifa’s dad swiveled his head to stare. Tifa forced herself to keep scrubbing the plate as she continued.

"I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’m sure. I want to join SOLDIER."

"Midgar? To join SOLDIER?" Tifa flinched at her father’s incredulous tone.

"Yes. According to their recruitment pamphlets, I have the combat skills and basic physical prerequisites for my application for training to be accepted without a doubt. Once I pass the exams, I’ll begin mako treatments—"

"Sweetheart. You’re my daughter."

Crash!

Tifa refused to check if she broke the plate she threw into the sink. She faced her father and resolutely planted her hands on her hips.

"Dad! Anyone can join SOLDIER! They don’t care who you are or where you’re from as long as you can prove yourself. Which is more than I can say for Nibelheim! Dad, you know I can beat any boy in town! I’ve been practicing fighting the monsters on Mt. Nibel and I’ll soon be ready to face the monsters between here and the Eastern continent. And any time a monster is too big to handle, I promise I’ll run away. I can do this, Dad! It’s my choice what to do with my life and I can’t waste it waiting for someone else to live it for me!"

Her father’s face seemed concerned and shocked during Tifa’s rant. The dish cloth threatened to drop to the floor in his slack grip. When she finished, his eyes grew sharp. Brian Lockhart set aside the cloth and grasped Tifa’s shoulders.

"Tifa. My little Lockhart. I know. What I meant is you’re my daughter. My baby. The only girl I got left that matters. I know you’ve got the heart and spirit to take on the world and I’m not ready for that." Tifa felt her anger fade and she slumped.

"Yeah, Dad, I know. Sorry." His eyes crinkled in a worried smile.

"You’re fine, sweetheart. But, you’re only thirteen. Isn’t it a bit early to be having a crisis and setting out to change the world?"

On second thought, Tifa’s anger came right back and she bristled.

"Dad! All the boys go off and find jobs in other towns when they’re thirteen, sometimes younger! What, just because girls don’t do that, now I’m too young to do the same? I’ll be fourteen soon. You know I’m a good fighter! And when you were twelve—"

"Okay, okay!" He held up his hands to placate Tifa. "I left home and traveled the world and eventually met your mother. Yes, I’m a big hypocrite and you’re my strong, capable girl. It’s just a father’s job to worry. I can’t help it!" Tifa crossed her arms and glared. Dad sighed. "I’m not saying no. And I’m not deluding myself into thinking I could keep you here against your will. So, you have my blessing. Can we talk a bit about your plans and negotiate? At the very least for my peace of mind."

Tifa huffed. Her father waited, hands outstretched in a peaceful gesture. She finally relented.

"Of course, Dad. I did want to talk first, after all." He grinned and they both turned back to the sink. The plate Tifa tossed earlier remained in one piece, but added a couple new chips to the edges. Dad nudged her shoulder with his elbow.

"So, who gave you the bug?" Tifa made a noise of confusion. He continued in an even tone. "You know, the adventure bug. Seems like you have quite the severe case."

"Dad. How could you make it sound so dorky?" He threw back his head and laughed.

"I make myself proud sometimes. But it’s not like you have to tell me what spurred this on. It’s Cloud, isn’t it?" Tifa ducked her head and scrubbed furiously at the next plate. "You’ve been restless ever since he left. Maybe Gav’s right. Is Cloud the lucky guy who’s caught my daughter’s eye?" Tifa shook her head.

"No, Dad. Not like that. It’s more…complicated than it seems." He nodded.

"Most crushes are."

"Dad!"

He laughed, holding up an arm to protect himself from Tifa’s indignant swats.

"I’m listening! I promise! If you say it’s not a crush, it’s not! I yield! Tap out!" She finally stopped once his shirt was soaked with enough water to make him miserable. "Okay, I’m serious now. Tell me about it." Tifa sighed.

"Dad… Cloud’s willing to sacrifice so much. He’s sacrificed for me, for his mom, for the town, and now he’s going to sacrifice to help even more people. I mean, sure, he wants to be a hero like Sephiroth," Tifa shrugged, "but who doesn’t? There’s more to it than that. He wants to be strong enough to protect everyone he cares about. And until he left, I thought I was happy. I wanted to be protected. By you, by my friends, by Cloud…" Her tone turned bitter. "And then Cloud left and took all my carefully crafted notions about the future with him." She handed her father the last plate and started to dry off her hands.

"I mean, Cloud didn’t just sit back and say ‘this is how things are.’ ‘This is the life I have to lead.’ No! He decided that there were things he wanted to change and then did something about it!" Tifa began to pace around their kitchen. "He decided that what matters is protecting his friends, protecting me. So he pursued it. To become strong and capable, he goes and joins SOLDIER. Instead of settling for mediocre, Cloud strove for greatness. He knew what he wanted and went after it. I didn’t even consider the possibilities of a life outside of Nibelheim! What do I want to do with my life? How do I want to live? What path should I take to get what I want? Who do I want to protect…" Tifa slowed her pace and quietly finished, "What dreams do I have?"

Clink.

The sound of her father putting away the plate drew Tifa from her thoughts. She looked him in the eye and noted his somber expression.

"So I thought about it. And I know. I’m not content with being protected anymore. I don’t want to live my life just asking from others. I want to give. I want to help. I want to protect. I want to… be Cloud’s protector. Even if he doesn’t need it, I want to have the power to step in and defend him. I don’t want to lose anything important because I sat by and let life happen around me. It’s time I acted. So, I’m leaving."

Dad leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. He let out a deep breath.

"Well, I can’t say you haven’t thought about it. You’ve even convinced me I need to up and join SOLDIER." He shook his head before Tifa could protest. "I’m kidding, I won’t do that. I support you, sweetheart. And I’m so proud." She clenched her jaw and nodded, tears pricking her eyes. His wry grin did little to hide his own watering eyes.

"You look so much like your mother. And she would be proud of you too." He opened his arms and Tifa embraced him. Their soft sniffles echoed in the small kitchen.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

They stood, listening to the water drip from the faucet. Then Dad rubbed her shoulders and Tifa stepped back.

"So! Travel plans. I want to leave the next time the courier comes into town." Dad nodded.

"Sounds like a good plan. I should be able to get off work then." Tifa’s mouth dropped.

"Dad!"

"Now, now." He pointed a finger at her nose. "I did say you have my blessing, not that you get to do whatever you want." He chuckled at her aghast expression and dropped his hand. "I’m not gonna walk you all the way to the recruitment desk. It’s not like I could be away from work that long. I’m coming with you to the Eastern continent. And then," he raised his voice over Tifa’s exclamations, "I’m hiring you a guide at the Chocobo Farm who will take you to Midgar. Sweetheart." Tifa quieted at his uncharacteristically grave tone. "Let me do this. I won’t be able to sleep if you just waltz out alone. Let me be Dad taking care of his daughter one last time before you grow up."

Tifa hesitated, and looked down at her hands. The splinter wound had formed a new scab during their conversation. She deliberated, gently threading her fingers together. Tifa looked back up and nodded.

"Okay, Dad. One last adventure before I’m Tifa Lockhart, SOLDIER First Class."

Dad gave her a small, wistful smile.

"That’s all I ask."

******

The morning frost had already melted when Tifa reached the front gate of Nibelheim. Sunshine shone ridiculously bright for a winter morning in the mountain town. Resting her healed hand against the wooden post, Tifa contemplated the land she would soon cross. Her father was finishing negotiating payment with the courier behind her.

She peered at the sign above her head. To Tifa, it now seemed to read Nibelheim: Former Home of Tifa Lockhart. Her future lay before her, across the vast ocean, to a city of metal and mako beyond her comprehension. She patted the wood softly with her hand. Splinters scraped her palm, but none burrowed under her skin.

Cloud, I’m right behind you.

"Tifa! He’s ready to head out. Let’s get going!"

Dad stood near the inn, so reminiscent of the last time he called to her from across the square. This time, however, Tifa immediately sprinted to his side.

"I’m ready, Dad! Come on, let’s go!" She pushed him towards the truck and he pretended to drag his heels.

"Oh, actually, I think I need to check with Barto for one last thing before—"

"Dad!"

"Kidding! C’mon, slowpoke, daylight’s wasting!" The courier rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself in the driver’s seat. Dad hopped into the back of the truck and held out a hand for Tifa. She eagerly grasped it, and he hauled her up among the canvas bags crammed with various parcels and envelopes.

The engine roared to life as the courier turned the truck around. They passed under the arches of Nibelheim’s front gate and Tifa’s heart thrummed in anticipation.

Nearly one full month after she watched Cloud disappear into the distance, Tifa Lockhart finally left the old gate of Nibelheim behind.

"...and now I’m here, ready to turn in my application and start training."

All the women working for HR clustered around Tifa as best they could given the eclectic furniture arrangement. Each incoming phone call was swiftly placed on hold with a blasé, one-handed gesture as everyone had a coffee mug clutched in the other. Tifa hardly registered the ringtone at this point. The paper taped to the office door read a hastily scribbled Meeting in Progress. It had deterred visitors from opening the closed door for the last hour.

"You got tough balls, sweet cheeks," Larsa drawled from her desk, smoking her fourth cigarette. "Nibelheim’s a long ways away." She cocked her head. "Is your dad a looker too? Because if so, hot damn. I might need to book me a holiday." She winked at Tifa, who frowned back.

"I’m glad your father was so supportive, dear. He sounds like a kind man." Pax cooed from her chair. "Cloud seems like a fine young man as well."

"He’s definitely handsome." Manèra, the only one who wore a nametag, asserted as she waved a paper around. "His profile probably doesn’t do enough justice, though."

"I didn’t print that out just so you could ogle." Tindi—whom Tifa had learned was the newest member to HR—snapped. She swiped Cloud’s profile from Manèra and brandished it aloft. "It’s got his current squad and dormitory on it too. I want to call him up to the office tomorrow and make sure he understands how important it is he values Tifa here."

Tifa felt a pleasant flush on her cheeks at the praise. Then she remembered why she was here and drooped.

"But, I’m afraid Mr. Lavette sees me like a lot of the boys back home do. Just a girl." She scowled. "It must be why he sent me here. ‘Let HR handle this.’ Ugh, I feel so naive." The ladies said nothing. Tifa raised her head to see them exchanging nervous glances. Finally, they all turned to Larsa, who arched an eyebrow.

"What? I gotta be the one to tell her?" Larsa took a long drag and let out the smoke slowly through her nose. "Ah, hell, don’t answer that. I got it." She stubbed out the cigarette butt, threw it into the only bin in the office, and leaned back, crossing her arms. Her chair squeaked as Larsa shifted her weight to throw one leg over the other in a tight posture of discomfort. Tifa dreaded what was to come as she met Larsa’s glittering green gaze.

"Look, Tifa, I’m gonna be straight with you. Lavette’s an asshole, so, yeah, that’s part of the reason he sent you here. But beyond his stupid, pigheaded prejudice, there is also a legitimate reason." Larsha’s sharp, crimson nails dug into the arms of her blazer. "Very few women make it into SOLDIER. Not because of ability, but because of mako."

Tifa sat, astounded. This was not what she expected. Larsa continued.

"Something about our body chemistry and the crap mako does to make us into super SOLDIERs doesn’t work right. Only a couple of women made it past the first round of injections. But, that didn’t mean they wanted to keep going. The pain was too much. There’s only one who completed the whole process. The witch doctors down in Science haven’t declared the official cause, but I—we know. Whatever we got, the mako doesn’t like. So, each female applicant has to go through a different process before they can begin official training."

Larsa ticked off a list on her fingers. "First, a skills appraisal to determine if you got what it takes. Second, a test injection of mako to see if you die. And last, you get to decide whether you want to officially go into training and take the SOLDIER exams, or go back home. No desertion status, no repercussions, just a quiet withdrawal of your application." They all sat quietly as Tifa took in this information. Larsa coughed.

"Of course, that dick Lavette is supposed to inform you himself and process your application accordingly, but he likes to be an asshole to women and make my life difficult anytime he can. So, yeah. That’s it. Now, it’s up to you." The HR personnel fidgeted and murmured assent. Pax reached out a hand to squeeze Tifa’s wrist.

"Take your time, dear. It’s a big decision." But Tifa shook her head.

"No, it’s actually not. I didn’t think it would be easy applying for SOLDIER. Anything worth the time takes effort. And I’m willing to fight for the strength I’m looking for." Tifa met Larsa’s eyes and gave a short nod. "Everyone’s journey takes paths they don’t expect, and their choices are their own responsibility. I’ve still got some hurdles to jump over before I change directions." She reached into her pack, withdrew her application, and held it out.

"I would like to formally tender my application for the SOLDIER program."

Manèra and Tindi high-fived, Pax squealed, and Larsa’s posture softened. A ghost of an approving smile hovered around her lips. Tifa glowed with pride, but then Larsa smirked.

"Alrighty then, sweet cheeks. But we can’t accept that here." Tifa faltered. Larsa’s smile turned into a feral grin. "This is HR after all. Applications are handled in recruitment." She stood up, decisively snatched Tifa’s application and headed to the door.

"And I’ve got to have a little chat with our darling Lavette."

Chapter Text

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, heralding the coming tempest.

Click, click, click.

Larsa’s sharp heels struck the gray tiles. Tifa scurried behind, attempting to keep pace. Before them lay the wide, curved recruitment desk that presently seated two SOLDIERs. One, the standard SOLDIER helmet obscuring his features, immediately turned to the sound of their entrance. He leapt to his feet, tugging at his SOLDIER turtleneck, and offered a crisp bow.

Lt. Lavette, SOLDIER Third Class, continued to scribble and sign documents with a custom fountain pen. His eyes stuck resolutely to his paperwork, hardly straying except to carefully add a completed document to the symmetrical stack on his left. The other SOLDIER straightened and noticed his companion’s indifference. He hastily poked Lavette’s shoulder, but not even a coworker could sway Lavette into acknowledging their rapidly approaching presence.

Click, click, click, bam.

Lavette’s fountain pen splattered ink across his document in-progress as Larsa slammed Tifa’s application down under his nose. He gradually raised his gaze to observe his visitors. Lavette’s face remained impassive, save for a flash of anger in the abnormal glow of his mako eyes.

“Larsa. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the displeasure of your abrasive company. How may I be of service? I’m afraid my stock of cigarette packs is nonexistent, as usual. The farthest corner store from here is two hours away. I suggest you start there.” Larsa arched an eyebrow, and her bangle emitted a faint glow. The other SOLDIER slowly edged away from his daring deskmate.

“Lavette, my least favorite asshole on Gaia, I got two things to say. One: you really should clean up your workspace sometime. It doesn’t reflect well on the company.” A muscle in his jaw contracted as his fingers tightened around his pen. He attempted to surreptitiously lay it down parallel to his meticulous array of identical implements. Larsa nonchalantly shifted her weight and Tifa’s application slid, knocking the pen askew. “Two: HR is contemplating drafting a correctional review for the recruitment office.”

With a gasp, Lavette’s coworker exclaimed, “What?! Why?!”

Larsa leered, “Egregious errors in application management with suspicion of discrimination. In smaller words, so he can understand, Lavette’s a lazy-ass, bigoted bastard. Any and all cooperation during this time is appreciated. And smart. Wouldn’t you agree?” The SOLDIER gulped and nodded. Tifa felt compassion for the clueless man. He must have been on break when Tifa first visited. She also began to think Larsa was unnecessarily exacerbating the situation.

However, Lavette appeared unfazed. “Apologies, I assume the misunderstanding is in regards to this girl’s application for SOLDIER,” he inclined his head in Tifa’s direction, but his eyes solely regarded Larsa. Despite his calm exterior, Tifa imagined his fixation akin to a rabbit keeping a wary eye on its predator. “My heavy workload prevented me from properly attending to her. I thought this matter would be best fitted for your personal touch.” The faintest sneer graced his features, before melting back into indifference. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Tifa tensed, simultaneously overwhelmed by fury and humiliation. Lavette’s distinct organization clearly illustrated the scant paperwork remaining and his deft prowess in concluding it. Apparently his deskmate shared her appraisal and his incredulous stare was evident even through the helmet.

Larsa wasted no time in pouncing upon the opportunity. “Hm… can’t say that I do agree. SOLDIER!” she barked to the left. The unfortunate victim snapped to attention.

“Ma’am! Kunsel, SOLDIER Second Class, at your service!”

“Does it appear to you that Lt. Lavette suffers from an unusually burdensome workload today?”

“No, ma’am! On the contrary, it seems less than normal.”

Lavette opened his mouth to retort, but Larsa left no margin for interruption.

“Let’s not make any hasty conclusions. We have no idea exactly what this paperwork entails. First,” she snatched the top paper off Lavette’s completed stack, “the evidence must be examined.” Larsa pursed her lips in feigned perusal.

“Kunsel, how long does it take to sign off on a,” she coughed, “performance review for upcoming SOLDIER examinees?”

“After checking to make sure basic requirements have been met by the trainees, not long at all… ma’am,” Kunsel added, seemingly apprehensive to communicate any disrespect towards Larsa. She grinned.

“I thought so.”

Whoosh!

Tifa jumped back and Kunsel yelped as the paper went up in flames. Larsa’s green eyes twinkled with glee in the firelight. Just before the flames reached her fingertips, she flicked the paper away. It fluttered, the embers curling the remnants into blackened char, and drifted towards Lavette’s desk. Larsa’s bangle dimmed as the magic dissipated, leaving nothing of the completed form but acrid smoke and filthy smudges.

Peeking in his direction, Tifa finally glimpsed a tangible emotion from Lavette. His mouth rested slightly agape, shock evident in his dilated pupils. So aghast, his eyes did not track Larsa as she seized another document.

“What about a supply form for restocking basic manufactured materia for new recruits?” Kunsel shifted his weight uneasily. Larsa’s eyes narrowed and her bangle gleamed ominously. He scrambled to answer.

“That would take some time to replicate as it requires someone to physically catalog our current materia inventory, ma’am.”

Tifa distinguished the moment Lavette snapped back to reality and registered the current situation. His eyes locked onto Larsa’s hand, then shot to meet her voracious gaze.

Larsa smirked.

“Even better.”

“NO!” Lavette shouted and lunged for the paper, despite the fact it already blazed brilliantly in Larsa’s grasp. He slumped against the desk, arm outstretched, as Larsa relinquished the scorched tatters to dispel into ashes. She made as if to snag another, but Lavette grasped her hand roughly and yanked the opposite direction.

“Don’t,” He growled. Tifa stifled a groan.

Oh, hell.

Larsa punched Lavette across his jaw with her free hand while simultaneously twisting out of his grip. Lavette’s head moved in the direction of her strike with less force than Tifa expected. He must have been anticipating the assault. Indeed, he quickly regained balance and his arm snaked out to possessively curl around his paperwork. Tifa shifted her stance into a defensive one. Kunsel mirrored her, though he seemed indecisive in determining his opponent.

Tifa never imagined her first legitimate battle in Midgar to involve her prospective employers. She sincerely regretted allowing Larsa to take control of her application.

Yet, Larsa and Lavette made no move to continue the physical altercation. They glared murderously across the desk, hackles raised and teeth bared like wolves.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Larsa seethed, “and don’t act as if you’re the victim here! I thought you were through with your petty revenge ploys. Just because I can kick your ass in any combat simulation doesn’t give you permission to exact your personal vendetta against every woman that walks through those doors!”

“And your bitter disappointment and self-loathing doesn’t give you permission to attempt to grind me into dust beneath your heels at every opportunity.” Lavette still endeavored to keep an even tone, but failed to prevent acid seeping into his voice. “Next time, I’d appreciate the benefit of the doubt before casting Fire on everything in sight. I truly believed you would be the best option to ensure she recognized the dangers before enlisting. I don’t have the time or capacity to dash the dreams of young women hoping to become strong and famous.”

“Like I would believe that! Recruitment is in the business of destroying dreams and blindsiding people with reality. I’m not the bitter one here.” Larsa glowered.

Lavette stood abruptly, turned in Tifa’s direction, and gave the slightest bow possible.

“I am sorry, miss, for my manner and breach in protocol. I see now I was remiss and ask that you file your application with my coworker.”

Lavette lined up the edges of his papers then clutched them to his chest. He turned and stalked down the hall, the onlookers parting fluidly with hushed murmurs. Larsa scoffed.

“Go ahead! Run away and pretend you’re the righteous one, just like you always do.” Lavette vanished without responding. Tifa wanted to knock their heads together at the childish display.

“Larsa,” Tifa reproached, “what was that? I think you went too far. He might be telling the truth!”

“Truth? Caring about people? Him?” Larsa’s scorn could hew an adamantaimai shell. “Sweet cheeks, you don’t know the guy like I do, offense intended. Like we said before, you’re not the first. A pattern’s a pattern, and protocol’s protocol. He acts all straight-laced, then stabs you in the dark like a tonberry. Creepy like ‘em too. I’m just glad I got to be the one who gave him the official warning.”

Tifa still glared at Larsa, not entirely convinced. She may track Lavette down at a later date and apologize, or at least listen to his side.

Larsa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ugh, I need a smoke.”

“Ma’am?” Kunsel piped up. “If that was a warning, might I request a warning for a warning if I ever get on your bad side?”

“That depends,” Larsa flashed him a vicious grin, “on just how well you treat our newest SOLDIER applicant. I’ve already briefed her on the special procedures. She just needs an additional consent form before scheduling her assessment...” Kunsel swiftly procured the proper form and handed it to Tifa before Larsa even finished speaking. Larsa nodded in approval.

“I trust you will be able to find someone who will assess Tifa properly and fairly. Common courtesy would be a plus.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Kunsel pulled a phone out of his pocket, “I think I know just the SOLDIER for the job.”

Tifa carefully took slow, measured breaths as she finished her final stretches. Every time her eyes flicked to the doors, her heart jumped at seeing the stamped lettering.

Lv. 49, TRAINING ROOM.

The famous SOLDIER virtual reality room utilized for combat simulation. A place dogged by rampant rumors and whispered legends of epic battles between the warriors of Shinra. Fans of the SOLDIER First Class elites would murder to be here. Any minute now, someone will walk through the sliding glass doors and determine Tifa’s fate. Reminding herself of that fact sent Tifa’s stomach lurching with nausea.

She shook out her hands and rolled her neck. The nervous anticipation tingled and coursed through her body.

This is it.

Tifa checked her equipment for the fourth time. Boots laced, bronze bangle secured, metal knuckles snugly strapped, materia equipped… and Tifa realized she had no idea what to do with her hair. Most of the time, she left her chestnut locks flowing freely, but this was serious. This was her one shot to prove herself and get into SOLDIER. She had to be unequivocally prepared.

What do I even have with me for my hair?!

She tore into her pack, frantically rifling for any hairband or restraint she could use for the upcoming battle. Tifa knew she would forget something. After Kunsel confirmed Tifa’s mysterious proctor, Larsa had clapped Tifa’s shoulder, gave a snarky, “don’t mess up now, sweet cheeks,” and waltzed back to HR. That final remark had followed Tifa as she was escorted to floor 49. It buzzed around her brain, fueling the anxiety Tifa had fended off for days. Until now.

“Oh, come on! I know you’re in here somewhere!” Tifa cried.

“Need a hand?”

Shrieking, Tifa whirled around.

Smack!

Her forehead collided with the man who had been peering over her shoulder. He stumbled back.

“Ow! Easy there! You know, we’re not supposed to begin the combat assessment just yet. You can leave off the sneak attacks until we’re both ready.” He grimaced, clutching at his nose. Tifa rubbed her forehead, cheeks burning.

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” She hastily bowed, internally chastising herself.

Good going, Tifa!

“No, no, it’s alright! That was supposed to be a joke.” Tifa hesitantly looked up. His bright blue eyes burned with sincerity and he no longer cradled his nose. Instead, his hands were held out in front of him. “Please stand up! It’s my fault for sneaking up on you like that. I should have known better, you being a SOLDIER applicant and all.”

Tifa slowly straightened and the man grinned.

“I’m Zack Fair, SOLDIER Second Class!” He pointed at his chest, black spiky hair bouncing with every boisterous movement he made. “Welcome to the SOLDIER training room!” His arms swept out and his smile grew impossibly brighter. “You must be Tifa! Put ‘er there.” Zack stuck out a hand, which Tifa tentatively took.

“Yes, I’m Tifa Lockhart. Are you going to test me?” Zack bobbed his head up and down.

“That’s right!” He squeezed her hand.

“Yowch!” he yelped, releasing quickly. Tifa gasped and her hands flew to cover her mouth.

“Oh no! I’m sorry! I forgot I already equipped my gear.” But Zack chuckled, dramatically wringing out his hand.

“Tifa, you’re practically a Wutai ninja! You might incapacitate me before we even start. I’ll never live it down!” She slowly lowered her hands and relaxed again. It was impossible to maintain her self admonition in Zack’s startlingly sunny presence. Kunsel’s choice made a lot of sense. Tifa wondered if anything could dampen Zack’s spirits for long. Tall, well-built, and an upbeat personality—he seemed like the poster boy for SOLDIER.

“You sure you’re alright?” She worried he was just attempting to ease her emotional strife before her test.

Zack waved his hands back and forth.

“Of course! Don’t worry! If that’s all it took to knock me down, I’ll never make First! Now,” he placed his hands square on his hips, “did you lose something? I saw you looking through your bag.” Tifa bit her lip.

“No, I’m sorry. We can start.”

“Stop apologizing. C’mon, I wanna make sure you’re ready for your assessment. What is it?” His blue eyes implored and his lips pouted, begging her. Tifa sighed.

“It’s silly…” she scuffed her boot against the floor and clasped her hands behind her back.

“The suspense is killing me!” Zack pretended to fall over and Tifa giggled.

“Sorry. It’s not actually a big deal. I’m all ready to go, except I can’t find anything to tie my hair back…” she trailed off with wide eyes as Zack brandished a black cord.

“Ta-da! Here, take it!” He marched forward. Tifa automatically extended her palm and Zack plopped the cord down.

“Um, thank you. Do you mind if I—”

“Go ahead! Your official assessment doesn’t start until I say so and, well, I don’t! So have at it! I’m in no rush.”

“Thanks,” Tifa repeated and began to gather her hair over her shoulder to tie back into a quick braid. Zack waved a hand in the air and began doing squats, oddly enough.

“Like I said, it’s no problem. I’ve been carrying that around for a bit to see if there’s ever an opportunity I can offer it to Sephiroth. Can you believe I never see him do anything with his hair? How can a guy with that much hair actually see while he’s fighting? Or signing papers? Heck, even crossing the street! It must get in the way all the time and he’s just pretending it’s not. So, I’ve made it a personal mission of mine to see Sephiroth with his hair in a different style before the next big SOLDIER shindig. That way, I can sneak a picture of it onto the display and get him back for only referring to me as ‘Angeal’s puppy’ last year. I don’t think he bothered to remember my name until...”

Tifa finished tying off her braid and observed Zack’s vibrant demeanor dim and his forehead wrinkle. He remained crouched on the floor, mid-squat, eyes burning a hole into the floor.

“Zack? Tifa reached out a tentative hand to hover over his shoulder. “You okay?”

He shook his head, black locks whipping around his somber face, and then shot to his feet. Tifa jumped in surprise. All traces of his inner turmoil vanished and Zack flashed her a brilliant grin. She almost felt blinded by his radiance.

“Yep! Never better! Sorry about that. You ready to start?” Tifa decided to drop the subject and nodded.

“Yes, I’m ready. Are we using materia?”

Zack clapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. “I forgot to give you all the instructions! Okay, listen up!” Tifa unconsciously snapped to attention. “I, Zack Fair, will be conducting your formal assessment for admittance to the SOLDIER program. Since this is a special procedure, if you pass, you will not be subject to the first round of exams to enter SOLDIER Third Class. Lucky you!” He winked. “Instead, you will receive personal instruction from another SOLDIER. When they deem you ready, you will advance to Third Class and start your mako treatments.”

“That being said, if I pass you, and you continue with the program, you will go through a mini mako injection trial. After the results determine your…” Zack scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable with acknowledging Tifa’s potential death, “...fitness… thing for mako, your personal instructor will be chosen and congrats! You’re in!” He enthusiastically bounced back. Tifa gave a small smile in response.

Zack began to pace. “Now, the rules.” He ticked off a list. “First, any weapons and materia are fair game. I won’t be using magic unless you really prove to be a challenge, but let loose and show me what you got! This is your time to shine. Second, the test goes until one of us yields or I say so. Third, though this is primarily up to me, your performance is being recorded through the security cams and will undergo further review to confirm your skills and determine who would be your best fit for instruction. Once you’re in SOLDIER, we use these goggle thingies to collect data on your progress instead of constantly supervising your training in person. Fourth… actually I think that’s it. Any questions?”

Tifa shook her head in response. Her throat felt constricted with anxiety and she feared her voice would squeak if she answered out loud.

“Great! Let’s get ready.” Zack hopped over to Tifa’s pack and carried it to an alcove for storage.

Tifa marched to the center of the room. Zack pulled a standard Shinra two-handed blade from the same place as her pack. He sauntered over, casually pulling out his phone to input something. She cocked her head to the side, then startled at a whirring electrical sound.

The training room shuttered and piece by piece transformed into a vast sandy beach. Rotating in a circle, she gawked at each panel converting to a pleasant tropical environment. Tifa could taste the salt in the air and hear gulls keening in the distance. She gasped, reaching out her fingers to marvel at the technology.

Zack laughed, “Yeah, it sure is something! Only Shinra could pull this off. I bet my face looked a lot like yours my first time using the VR system.” Tifa shut her gaping mouth and smiled sheepishly. To recover, she surveyed the surroundings to orient herself to the terrain. Maybe after the assessment she could ask Zack about the room, but right now she needed to center.

Zack tucked his phone away and situated himself several feet in front of Tifa. He shifted into a wide stance, blade swinging upright until it pointed at her. She planted her right foot in front of her left and raised her fists. Zack smirked, his attitude focusing into something more intense.

“Your move, Tifa. Show me that you got what it takes to be a SOLDIER.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The air seemed to still between them. Tifa felt her resolve harden. All the anxieties that plagued her dwindled. Her muscles strained, yearning to fight. Tifa’s eyes snapped open, meeting Zack’s playful yet fierce gaze.

“I will.”

Tifa’s materia gleamed and she surged forward.

Sephiroth twitched at his desk, then sighed.

The piercing shout that disturbed him seemed like it was in disbelief, not mortal peril. However, if he continued suffering this level of disruption, it may soon be the case. The clamor outside his office had yet to die down after nearly an hour. Something important had obviously occurred to justify the unbridled upheaval.

Sephiroth loathed to find the cause. If it had anything to do with Genesis or Angeal, he was certain that he would have been informed first. Therefore, the commotion most likely involved petty relationship drama, testosterone/mako-driven competition, or the fan clubs. If it were all three, Sephiroth would rather retire as a cabana boy at Costa del Sol than deal with it. So he persisted in ignoring the tittering employees and noisy infantry.

Until his sharpened senses perceived pertinent information.

“...Zack Fair? No way!”

“I’m tellin’ you man, the training room hadn’t seen damage like that since the last time those Firsts tore it to pieces.” Sephiroth froze, every cell screaming as he recalled that fateful day.

“That was no joke. But was anybody hurt?”

“I heard that even with their leg all twisted up—”

Crash!

Sephiroth found himself hulking over the two SOLDIERs conversing without recollection of leaving his desk. They jumped, eyes frantically darting behind Sephiroth to his office door hanging by one hinge.

“SOLDIERs,” he calmly commanded, tempering his whirlwind emotions. Nevertheless, the two men’s animal instincts warned them of the imminent danger and they saluted briskly.

“SIR!”

“Care to explain what’s going on?” One of them gulped. The other nervously licked his lips.

“Sir?”

Sephiroth slowly breathed out his nose. His fist clenched.

“Has there been an accident in the training room?” Their eyes widened in comprehension.

“Sir! Zack Fair was commanded to assess the combat abilities of a new applicant to SOLDIER.” The cadet glanced away, carefully hedging his next words, “There’s rumors flying everywhere about how it went, but I haven’t confirmed any with my own eyes. Some say that Zack bested the recruit and kicked them out. Others swear that the recruit destroyed Fair and that he’s currently in the infirmary.”

Sephiroth’s chest squeezed in a way he, unfortunately, recognized. The raging beast of frenetic anxiety clawed at his heart.

Not Zack… not him too.

He was sure his expression reflected some inkling of his agitation. The cadets cowered, anticipating their demise at the hands of the Silver General.

“Dismissed,” he managed curtly and they bolted.

Sephiroth spared them no further attention as he stormed back to his office. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he searched the infirmary for Zack.

No results found for Zack Fair. Please try another query.

Sephiroth almost relaxed. Regrettably, he realized that upon their initial introduction, Sephiroth had failed to ascertain whether Zack was his given name or an affectionate moniker.

Clickety-clack, tap, tap, tap, ding!

No results found for Zackary Fair. Please try another query.

Tap, tap, ding!

No results found for Zachary Fair. Please try another query.

Clickety-clack, tap, tap, tap, ding!

No results found for Zachariah Fair. Please try another query.

Zackariah. Zacchaeus. Zackaree. Zacky. Zaxby.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

No results found.

Air gushed from his lungs and Sephiroth collapsed into his chair. He internally drafted a memo reminding himself to inquire if Zack had a full name to prevent this fiasco in the future. Sephiroth was miserably confident there would be a next time. But for now, he exhaled all his worry. The relief almost left him giddy. Zack was the closest person to a friend that Sephiroth still had at Shinra. If something had happened to him…

Sephiroth shook his head. What mattered was that Zack was alright and that he did not require treatment in the infirmary.

…

Unless that was because he was dead and dead people don’t need medical attention.

Computer keys cracked and sparked under his fingertips and Sephiroth’s computer threatened to combust.

Zack Fair, Second Class. Status: Active Duty.

Sephiroth groaned and dropped his head down on his desk with a thunk. At least he was listed as Zack in the SOLDIER records. That puppy will be the death of him. He could hear Zack crowing with delight if he ever learned about this.

”Aw, Seph, I knew you cared! You and me, we’re buddies now. Should I let you know every time I head to the bathroom, or are you gonna check the personnel database every five minutes anyway to make sure I haven’t croaked?”

No, Sephiroth will never tell Zack. With another sigh, he picked himself up and eyed his smoking computer. He would have to let the front desk know he needed a new one.

Now that the impending doom of grieving another lost comrade was subverted, Sephiroth found his curiosity piqued. Just what happened on the 49th floor to spark such gossip?

Typing gingerly, Sephiroth accessed the security footage from the training room. There were some scorch marks and gouges, but otherwise it looked normal. Nothing like when he had sliced it to ribbons fighting Genesis. He hovered over the exit button, intending to chalk it up to exaggerated rumors.

But something niggled at the back of his mind. It was hardly standard protocol to evaluate SOLDIER applicants. Normally, the training itself weeded out the weak-willed individuals prior to the first exam. Yet the cadet Sephiroth accosted had seemed certain that Zack received a command to test this new recruit. This may still warrant investigating, if just to confirm that Zack truly was unharmed.

Sephiroth rewound the daily log for the training room. A flurry of activity and materia flashes sped by just a little too swiftly for his enhanced vision to track. Sephiroth paused once the combat appeared to subside.

The feed revealed two figures: one clearly Sephiroth’s headache otherwise known as Zack, and the other a young woman.

How fascinating.

It had been quite a while since the last female applicant to SOLDIER. This by itself would unmistakably account for the abounding chaos. He leaned forward to observe the girl.

Sephiroth deigned not to assign an age to her besides somewhere in her teens. Women matured too rapidly and disproportionately at this stage for even his precise discernment. She was simply clad in a white tank top, black leather skirt, dark stockings, and boots. Metal knuckles adorned her fists and her lithe arm muscles tensed in an offensive stance. Her delicate, warm features contrasted with the unyielding determination hardening her brown eyes.

Underestimating this puzzling young woman most likely would lead to a calamitous downfall. Her appearance and unusual preference for hand-to-hand combat sufficiently intrigued the ordinarily unflappable general.

With a curious hum, Sephiroth pressed play.

Chapter Text

Sand scattered and sprayed in stinging pellets as Zack skidded to a stop. Blue eyes blown wide in shock, he nimbly dodged to the side as Tifa rushed in for another hit. Clearly, he had expected an offensive materia blast when she first struck. Instead, Tifa’s Haste spell doubled her speed and allowed her to slip past his guard. She had landed two punches and a jump kick that flung Zack backwards.

Now, Zack blocked and parried her blows, catching her metal knuckles with the flat of his blade.

Clang!

Tifa’s new speed at least put her closer to on par with the enhanced SOLDIER’s reflexes. However, Zack continued to evade her assault, even throwing in some attacks of his own. Exhaling a grunt of exertion and frustration, Tifa deflected and persisted. She feinted left, he copied, then she swept a kick to his unguarded flank.

Zack’s forearm halted her attack. Before she could counter, he swiveled his arm and caught her ankle. He smirked, gloved fingers tightening, muscles tensing. Tifa panicked.

Oh sh—

Tifa flew across the beach, scarcely catching herself into a clumsy crouch. Her palms pulsed with minor scrapes.

“Neat trick with Haste, but too bad for you that I’m used to fighting hand-to-hand opponents,” Zack laughed. He resumed a ready stance as Tifa shifted into a runner’s lunge.

Well then, I guess it’s time to mix it up.

She sprinted, drawing one fist back for a high strike. Zack released the sword’s grip with one hand and raised his blade, preparing for her onslaught. She leapt, her right knuckles colliding with the sword while her left hand pressed flat against the metal. Tifa’s elbows bent and she pushed off.

To his credit, Zack tried to track her unexpected movement.

Tifa flipped over his head, avoiding the sword point, and slammed her right heel into his back. He gracelessly stumbled forward with a squawk. She dropped to her left leg, instantly pivoting and swiping out his knees with her right. Zack twisted while falling and cleaved the air with his blade. Tifa had already vaulted into a back handspring to elude any counterstrikes. His sword whistled as it whirled underneath Tifa, clipping the edge of her braid.

“See?” Zack’s blithe countenance contrasted his urgent dive away from Tifa to regain his footing. He switched to the offensive. “There’s no way Sephiroth doesn’t lose any hair while fighting.” His sword danced in a series of complex jabs and swings. Tifa darted and swerved to evade. “Either he’s got extensions to cover the missing chunks,” Zack accented his point with a sweep of his blade, “or his hair is indestructible.”

He stabbed with a speed that almost blurred Tifa’s vision. She veered to the side, wincing as he sliced her left bicep.

Tifa returned the favor with a metal knuckle to his jaw. Zack faintly recoiled at the blow.

Stupid SOLDIER enhancements.

She needed to regain the upper hand fast.

Tifa jumped back, avoiding Zack’s persistent barrage, and methodically mapped his movements.

There!

Zack drew his arm back for another sweep with his weapon, just like she wanted. Instead of leaping out of range, Tifa dashed forward into its direct path. She desperately counted on his wicked speed acting against him in this instance.

Indeed, horrified shock flooded his features as Zack realized she would be cut down by his blade. But not even his insane SOLDIER reflexes could stop its trajectory. With a zing, his sword curved into its intended semicircle, Tifa at the center.

Tifa contorted backwards into an arch, arms tucked to her chest, and the sword missed her torso by millimeters. Still suspended, her left fist traced the course of the blade and locked the edge between her spikes. Capitalizing on Zack’s momentum, Tifa twisted, drove her fist downward, and plunged the sword into the sand.

Zack’s stupefied gasp accompanied Tifa shifting to balance on her right hand. Her left leg shot out, kicked, and ripped the sword from his grasp. It spun in circles, flinging sand and glinting in the sun.

There was no time for Tifa to mark where the sword landed. She placed all her weight on one hand and coiled her legs to her chest.

Smack!

Zack plummeted, both of Tifa’s feet pinning him to the ground by his sternum. He wheezed and frantically scrabbled to grab her legs. But Tifa launched herself upwards, further winding the woozy SOLDIER. Twirling in a flip, she brought her leg down in an axe kick. Zack barely rolled away in time to dodge.

Her heel formed a crater in the sand. She lunged for Zack, fists aloft. He hastily blocked with his forearms and struggled to his feet. Tifa angled her metal knuckles with each punch to maximize damage. Bruises bloomed across his skin and Zack gulped for air. Tifa almost halted her attacks, concerned, but reassured herself that Zack could stop the assessment at any time.

All too soon he regained his breath and began to deflect her strikes smoothly. He periodically attempted a punch, but his focus was more on inching towards his sword than offense. Tifa endeavored to alter their course. She alternated punches and kicks, switching styles and techniques constantly.

But Tifa underestimated his melee skills and her exasperation festered. She threw a sloppy jab towards his chest. Zack blocked, swiveling his arm to hook her own, and heaved. Her inertia propelled her forward and Zack slung himself past her body. She shrieked and floundered to remain upright.

Now, Zack was between Tifa and the sword.

Evidently he assumed he could reach it before her in a fully fledged race and Zack charged.

Tifa knew that he assumed correctly. That knowledge failed to prevent her from bolting after him.

She was close enough behind to spit out the sand he kicked up, but not to overtake him. Zack whooped triumphantly as he approached the sword and Tifa’s temper erupted.

“Don’t lay a single finger on that sword, Zack Fair!”

Green glowed from her gauntlet and Tifa wildly pitched her spell. The blue ice crystals surged past Zack and encased his sword with crackling energy. Zack comically dug his heels, windmilling his arms. He, regrettably, avoided the sprawling, splintering ice from his blade.

“Oh, come ON!” He wailed and whirled around to face Tifa. Zack whined as he went on the defensive. “Tifa, why did you hurt my sword! What did it ever do to you? Well,” he eyed the blood that oozed from her bicep, “besides that.”

“Get over it,” Tifa gritted out as she took a glancing blow to the side of her head. “I would have been happy if it hit you or your sword. You got off easy.” Tifa burrowed her knuckles into Zack’s side and he hissed.

Zack’s brow creased and his playful demeanor vanished.

“Alright, you asked for it. I’m stepping it up!”

His bangle hummed with energy and Zack sidestepped her punch. He threw one hand towards the ice slab and it erupted in flames. Tifa sensed the power from his spell and knew her basic Ice was no match for Fira. She focused on lashing out with a boot to the back of his leg.

Zack buckled slightly, but continued maintaining his Fira as steam billowed from the sword. He sustained her punches with minimal blocking, obviously preferring regaining his sword to reducing injury.

Okay, fine. Go ahead and ignore me.

Tifa swiveled and whipped her leg around in a devastating kick to his back. Zack toppled and his Fira spell faded. He collapsed on his sword, unfortunately now ice-free. When he failed to rise, Tifa hesitated, reluctant to harm Zack further.

“Zack? Are you okay?”

Zack moaned, face in the sand, “Hmmkaay. Dnnnrrree.” Tifa stepped forward, hands outstretched to lift him.

“What?”

A green glow washed over Zack and his head popped up with a grin.

“I said, I’m okay. Don’t worry.” Tifa sighed, relief mingling with vexation, and dropped her hands. Zack bounded upright, sword in hand. “See? Nothing a good Cura can’t handle.”

“Zack!” Tifa stomped her foot. “I was worried! I don’t have any Cure materia and don’t know where the hospital is!” Zack laughed and spun his sword in a flourish.

“You? I’m the one who should be worried. You’re kicking my ass! But this isn’t over yet. Look sharp!” Zack abruptly burst forward. Tifa screeched as she jumped on instinct over his arcing blade.

“Hey!”

Zack merely taunted her with a charming smirk then returned to slashing at Tifa with infuriating finesse. Cuts and gashes decorated her skin as she flagged beneath his advance. Zack left no opportunity for retaliation and Tifa suffered ample gouges with her bare forearms.

As soon as she had enough gil, Tifa needed a good set of bracers.

Tifa rallied her aching muscles to attempt one last push. She skirted Zack’s next stab and maneuvered close. Tifa corkscrewed her fist, manipulating the spikes to replicate ensnaring Zack’s sword. She angled the blade skyward, but Zack was ready.

He reversed his hold on the hilt and hauled the sword to exploit her deflection. Tifa felt herself swamped with dread; she was too close and tangled up in his limbs to retreat.

Zack rammed the pommel into her thigh and Tifa screamed. She crumpled as her leg erupted in pain. Blinking, her vision grew hazy.

“Tifa? You good? If you’re worried about stopping, don’t be. We did more than enough for the test. Hey, Tifa?” Zack’s voice sounded distraught and close to her ear. The rest of his words became muddled as she felt her anger and pain peak into raw energy.

Tifa reached her Limit.

With a snarl, she rolled towards Zack and pummeled him with her strengthened fists.

Beat Rush.

Zack cried out and staggered back. Tifa seamlessly kicked off into Somersault, catching Zack upside the chin. He grunted and dazedly brought his sword back up to retaliate. But Tifa’s focus never wavered and her Limit Break could not be countered.

She felt her energy surge and the magic roil in her gut as she dropped to the ground.

Waterkick.

Tifa’s heel streaked in a low circle and water cascaded in her wake. Zack’s hip took the brunt of her force, then the water sent him tumbling. Eventually, the wave ebbed and Zack rolled onto his back. His spiky locks plastered to his face as the liquid bubbled and descended into the sand. The magical energy faded from Tifa and she haltingly regained her wits.

Zack coughed and spluttered on the ground. “Okay,” he rasped and thumped on his chest, “I yield.”

Tifa sagged, finally succumbing to the pain. She whimpered and plopped her bottom into the sand. Her leg throbbed. Glancing down revealed mottled bruises coursing down her thigh. They disappeared beneath her stocking, concealing the extent of the damage.

With a shower of green magic, Zack recovered and begrudgingly rose to a hunched sitting position. Clasping his hands in front of his bent knees, he panted.

“Tifa, what was that? Your Limits stack?!”

Tifa shrugged distractedly.

“Man, Kunsel’s gonna flip when he hears this. How do you do that?”

“Zack?” Tifa leveled her gaze at his head. “Please heal my leg.”

His eyes bugged. “Oh my go—Tifa, shi—say something sooner!” Zack fumbled as much as one could while casting a Cura spell. The soothing waves of healing magic washed over Tifa and she sighed in relief.

“Thanks.” Tifa finally felt able to give Zack a wan smile. “I guess I’m just that good.” She chuckled at his indignant snort. “There’s a trade-off. If I don’t focus, there’s a big chance none of my Limits will land or work properly.”

“Well you sure hit me every dang time.”

“That’s because I was super pissed.”

“Humph. Teaches me to make sure my opponent isn’t a big cheater before placing any bets.” Tifa raised her eyebrows.

“You made a bet? Could you get in trouble for that?”

Zack waved a hand and settled into a cross-legged position. “Dunno, don’t care. Kunsel and I bet on which one of us would yield if I didn’t have to call it off. I can’t believe it! You’re incredible!” Tifa covered her warm cheeks with her hands. “I’m serious. That was so cool, I can’t even be mad you beat me! Then again, I don’t think I’m supposed to get angry at my examinee in the first place.” Tifa giggled, more than a little hysterical, and certainly exhausted. She was more than ready to leave the training room and recuperate.

“So, did I pass? Unless you need time to think about how badly I kicked your ass before deciding?” Tifa almost cackled at his aghast expression.

“As if! We both gave each other holy hell! I just got sucker-punched the one...” Zack hastily amended at Tifa’s look, “...okay, the three times. Next time, you won’t be able to pull the same moves. But, you definitely romped me, and that’s not easy. I’ve been personally trained by a SOLDIER First, you know.”

With a crooked grin, Zack hopped to his feet and bounded over to Tifa’s side. Sticking out a hand, he declared, “Tifa Lockhart, as far as I’m concerned, welcome to SOLDIER!”

Tifa’s heart soared in her chest and she grasped Zack’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, Zack. I won’t let you down.”

His eyes crinkled fondly and he pulled her upright.

“I know you won’t.”

Silence pervaded the conference room at the termination of the footage. No one seemed eager to venture their opinion. That is, if you ignored Reno, which the Turks often accomplished with minimal effort.

“Damn! We gotta do ‘Tifa v. Rude’ next! I’m dyin’ to see who would win. Whaddya say, partner?”

Rude acknowledged Reno’s comment, though only with a derisively quirked eyebrow above his opaque shades. Reno seemed unperturbed, lolling back in his precariously balanced seat. His bright red hair brushed his cheeks as he swayed back and forth on two chair legs.

A man elegantly cleared his throat with a slight cough. His short, sable ponytail swished as he turned to face the Turks from a computer.

“After the assessment, Zack Fair escorted her to HR personnel for appropriate accommodations and procedures. Currently, she resides in their office. Nothing else of note occurred for the duration of my observations, hence the termination of visual intelligence.” Umber eyes burning, he seemed to dare dissention. With none forthcoming, he continued, “I anticipate her placement among the upper floors of Shinra due to her unique circumstances and apparent support from staff.”

“Tseng, you gotta be kidding me,” Reno drawled incredulously. “Apparent support? Even that harpy’s torching the hell outta any opposition. The kid’s like a crying chocobo chick with how everyone’s falling over to help her. Not that I blame ‘em…” Reno trailed off with a mumble.

His sentiment resonated with the assembly as they murmured sympathetically. Tseng cleared his throat again, angular features narrowing in a critical gaze. The redhead merely grinned, unrepentant, in response. Tseng sighed, but forged ahead.

“Rumors of Tifa’s success have already spread throughout Shinra. Reception is varied with a general consensus tending towards goodwill, even if only to view her in combat. I have reviewed the access logs to the security feed and…” Tseng hesitated and shifted his weight, “...not only are the President and Vice President listed, General Sephiroth is as well.”

Bewildered disbelief rippled through the Turks.

“What?”

“The General? But why?”

“He never involves himself with applicants.”

“This is serious. It’s only a matter of time before the Science department…”

Tseng raised his hand, both to placate and draw attention.

“It is unclear whether Sephiroth’s purpose was to investigate Tifa or Zack. Logically, the welfare of Zack Fair is highly likely to serve as sufficient motivation. Considering recent events, that probability increases significantly.”

The room hushed in somber retrospect. Tseng lowered his arm and straightened his suit jacket.

“I will ascertain the General’s intent and investment. This comprises my summation of pertinent events up to this point. Now, we must determine our own objectives in regards to Tifa.”

An ill-timed sneeze interrupted the otherwise perfect stillness. The Turks waited in a jittery game of wills. Naturally, Reno spearheaded the dilemma.

“So,” he began casually, “who’s got a bright plan to snatch her up before mako bursts her brains to bits?”

Reno bit off his last words with uncharacteristic venom. He no longer rocked carelessly in the chair. Instead, his spine tensed rigidly, one foot braced against the table, while the other dangled. A hand rested on his propped knee and a fist curled around his electro-mag rod.

Several people glanced his way, betraying an expression akin to genuine concern. Scarcely did Reno reveal such blatant vitriol, yet many of the Turks evidently shared his opinion. Scowling faces and cracking knuckles generated a taut atmosphere. The room’s attention diverted from Reno to their leader, who commanded their awareness merely by shifting positions.

Veld was a hulking bear presiding at the end of the conference table. Stern wrinkles accented the jagged scar on his cheek. His unrelenting brown eyes catalogued every Turk’s expression and posture, no doubt faultlessly reading them like textbooks.

“Tseng,” Veld’s stern baritone reverberated, “profile analysis and eligibility report.”

The Turk in question inclined his head behind the computer. Keys rattled as Tseng switched the display from the previous video to Tifa’s application, with an addition of her photograph snatched from security cams.

“Tifa Lockhart,” Tseng’s crisp voice echoed, “Thirteen years of age, turning fourteen May 3rd. 160 centimeters tall. Approximately 48 kilograms. Employs knuckles to enhance her skills in hand-to-hand combat. Style and range of martial arts implicates previous study under the famed Master Zangan, presumably while in Nibelheim, as no records state previous travel. Brian Lockhart listed as father and only surviving relative. Lockhart is a new surname in our database and her mother’s is unknown. Blood sample required to determine any notable relations.”

Veld hummed and gently rapped his knuckles against the table’s surface. For anyone else, it would seem an innocuous tic, but on Veld it relayed predatory contemplation. He nodded at Tseng to resume.

“Despite her expressed intent to join SOLDIER and subsequently demonstrated prowess, Tifa displays self doubt, hesitation, and passivity. Such feelings fall within the norms of her adolescent stage, but subtle signs of past trauma suggest a comprehensive psych eval to be prudent. Her lack of self confidence by no means eliminates her candidacy. Tifa’s assessment performance proves her capable under duress. I propose guidance counseling to have a high rate of success in improving Tifa’s cognition of self. Otherwise, personality and temperament indicate Tifa to be a stable, empathetic, level-headed woman with no disqualifying psychological concerns.”

“In addition, defeating a mako-enhanced Second Class at a young age with such skill, strategy, and ingenuity is an undeniable accomplishment. Furthermore, she has years of development and growth ahead of her. If nurtured, Tifa exhibits potential to eclipse most comrades and adversaries. In SOLDIER, she would unquestionably join the ranks of the First Class Elite with time. If she were to survive the treatments, she may even rival Sephiroth. However, evaluating her current value and the odds of success, that risk should not be undertaken. An alternative must be pursued.”

Tseng rose from his seat and faced Veld.

“In conclusion, I endorse Tifa Lockhart as a candidate for recruitment into the Turks.” He offered an immaculate bow to their leader.

“Thank you, Tseng.” Tseng straightened and regained his seat. Veld swept his gaze across his employees. “Are there any objections to Tseng’s endorsement?”

“Sir!” A young auburn-haired woman stood at attention. “While I agree with Tseng’s assessment, thirteen is too young to join our ranks without stringent testing. We can’t guarantee her loyalty and dedication under the extreme circumstances our occupation requires. Tifa is still a child. A child in espionage is inadvisable. She needs to prove herself, as I did, before we welcome her to our ranks.”

“A child SOLDIER better than a child spy, eh, Cissnei?” Reno had settled his chair on all fours and clasped his hands, elbows on the table. He directed his bold turquoise gaze to Cissnei’s amber eyes as she flinched. “I for one think anybody who’s got the grit, gets the job. Her age, looks, and skills only benefit our infiltration scope. Besides,” Reno’s fingers tightened, “she’s already here and nobody’s gonna let her leave Shinra now. I’d rather take the chance to bring her in our ranks than condemn her to an early death via Hojo’s poison.”

“Agreed,” Rude grunted, crossing his arms tightly in front of his stout chest.

Cissnei conceded with a tilt of her head, then seated herself.

Veld surveyed the room, but no other objections were forthcoming. He leaned back in his chair and raised his prosthetic arm, inspecting it in thought.

“Cissnei brings forward valid considerations. However, I am inclined to side with Reno on this matter. If she had only introduced herself less spectacularly, Tifa may have avoided the SOLDIER cesspool.” A rasping click originating from his prosthesis accompanied Veld’s words. “But she has. And her assets are indisputable. Full indoctrination at this age may be early, but she’s too valuable at this point to relinquish.” With a jangling rattle, Veld stowed his arm out of sight.

“Tseng, continue discrete observation and profiling until you develop a compelling tactic for persuasion. Tifa’s acquiescence is vital to her survival and it’s your responsibility to obtain it.” Tseng accepted his assignment with a graceful bow of the head.

“Reno—”

“Yo!” Reno gleefully interrupted. Rude sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his sunglasses. Veld stared dispassionately until Reno lost his impish grin.

“You and Rude are tasked with befriending and gathering intel from Tifa. Make the Turks her best allies at Shinra and keep her SOLDIER interactions at a minimum. Report your findings to Tseng to aid his investigation.”

“Sir! Hell yeah!” Reno crowed while Rude assented with a nod.

“Cissnei, I want eyes on the Science department and data from the previous female test subjects’ results. We need to be prepared should Tifa fail to be dissuaded from her current course. Find out what they know about the root cause. It’s not improbable that Hojo has ulterior procedures and knowledge in regards to the supposed incompatibility. Start with his private files.”

“Sir!” Cissnei rose and bowed at the waist.

Veld regarded the Turks with a critical eye. Hardly a breath was audible under Veld’s scrutiny. Not even Reno dared to break his imposed silence. Then, he scrubbed at his short chin stubble and a collective gust of air rushed from the room’s occupants.

“The rest of you continue with your prescribed duties. I expect nothing short of success. Dismissed!”

“Sir!”

Pleasant chimes tinkled from the mechanized lock pad and with a snick the door swung inward. Overhead lights automatically flickered, illuminating the entryway. Beyond, the rest of the apartment dwelled in darkness and indistinct shadows loomed. Tifa gaped at the quality craftsmanship, but hovered in the doorway.

Predictably, Pax promptly bustled inside and chattered, “Come on in, dear, no need to be shy. This is your new home!” She shucked her heels with stunning speed and vanished around the corner.

A light switched on, further revealing the edge of a white counter and a dim sitting room. “The kitchen should be—oh yes! Just as I asked, I knew I could rely on Jespen, the sweet man. Tifa, come in so I can show you what I ordered. Let’s see…” She heard the telltale tearing of boxes. “Hm, this should go here...”

Tifa exhaled, slipped inside, and softly shut the door. She dutifully unlaced her boots and carefully set them aside. Stepping up out of the genkan, she noted a bathroom to her right before the entryway opened. Her socks padded softly upon the white oak flooring. Tifa rounded the corner, following Pax’s path.

A modest, U-shaped kitchen greeted her. Pax bobbed back-and-forth, arranging various cookware in the gray cabinets. The chrome stovetop along the right hand counter gleamed. At the hub of the countertops, the pristine, silver sink boasted similar disuse. The left side contained an open counter that offered a wide view of the furnished sitting room. Astonished, Tifa rested her hand on the cool kitchen surface. She tuned back into Pax’s prattling.

“...this should go above the stove for easy access. I always say I should do that myself, but habits hold power over practicality.” Pax chuckled, then glanced over. “Is there anything else you need for the kitchen, dear? I tried to order all the essentials.” Tifa absentmindedly shook her head. Pax pursed her lips.

“Tifa, feel free to go explore! I’m sure you’re excited. I can handle the kitchen just fine.”

“But… all this is for me?” Tifa finally voiced her thoughts. “I’m not even a SOLDIER yet! Isn’t it a bit much? This doesn’t look like what was listed in the SOLDIER housing specifications.” Pax clucked in disapproval.

“Now, none of that talk! You receive special privileges for the… particular risks involved, as you well should. This is standard for your situation. We’re not going to shove you in a broom closet prior to mako treatments and certainly not after while you’re recuperating. Besides,” Pax’s customarily light tone darkened, “no one is sending any young lady to the barracks. I know you can take care of yourself, dear, but I wouldn’t trust those cadets to behave. Not that I think your Cloud would do something,” Pax qualified at Tifa’s indignant expression, “but you two wouldn’t be able to stop a whole squadron if they set their mind to wickedness.” Tifa huffed and sullenly crossed her arms.

“That still doesn’t mean I should get a huge apartment. I can defend myself,” she grumbled. Pax’s gaze honed into unsettling concentration.

“Tifa, listen carefully.” Tifa straightened and gulped. “This is important. I am not joking. You need a private apartment.” Those words seeped under her skin, prickling and crawling. “You tell me if anybody gives you trouble or asks you to do anything you don’t want. Especially if they won’t leave you alone. No matter who it is, I’ll take care of it. Even if it were President Shinra himself. Understand?”

Tifa nodded furiously, cheeks flushed. Trepidation slunk up her spine and she suppressed shivers.

Pax beamed, regaining her cheery demeanor. “Good! That’s settled then. Why don’t you take a look around and tell me if you need anything else sent up.”

“O-okay.” Tifa scurried out of the kitchen, hasty to avoid arousing Pax’s ire and flee the excruciating conversation. Not that she was ignorant of the consequences to carelessness. Though she missed the chance to receive such loving admonishment from her own mother, discussing this with Pax made her feel obstinately foolish about her reservations. Living in the barracks was an undeniably bad idea, but Tifa had expected small quarters with a couple other girls.

Jolting, Tifa realized she probably consisted the entire regiment of female Third Class SOLDIERs.

Well, soon-to-be Third Class.

Flipping a switch, she explored the sitting room now suffused in light. The far wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows paired with gray curtains. Several seats surrounded a glass coffee table. A charcoal couch starkly contrasted the light floors, while a light gray loveseat softly complemented. At the head of the table, a plush, white armchair with a small ottoman invited Tifa to sink into the cushions. Resisting the allure, she set her pack down and crossed the room to the door on the right wall.

Furtively peeking, she groaned. An ostentatious bed far larger than her one in Nibelheim dominated the room. Trudging inside, Tifa doubted anyone except Pax would buy such a gaudy, enormous thing. With an experimental push on the white comforter, Tifa almost toppled as the velvet mattress dipped. Glancing around, the other sparse furniture displayed less grandeur. Thank goodness. Tifa needed to have a word with Pax about the so-called standard. At least her private bath was simple.

Returning to the kitchen, Tifa found Pax stowing away the last utensil. Pax smiled and clapped her hands together.

“How do you like it? I know it’s a bit drab, but you can decorate it however you like. You should find that the bathrooms are fully stocked as well. Anything you need, just give me a call and I’ll order more for you. The essentials are always provided by the company for no extra charge.”

Tifa cocked a hip and placed her fist on it. “Essentials, you say? Pax, I don’t think that bed is considered standard. Or essential. In fact, shouldn’t I have to pay for my own stuff? I hardly think a fully-stocked kitchen is in my contract.”

Pax airily waved her hands at Tifa. “Oh, hush, you don’t know what you're talking about. Of course it’s standard!”

Tifa raised her eyebrows. Her stony stare pressured Pax into relenting.

“Alright, I may have called in a few favors to make sure you got a couple extra things. But ain’t nobody gonna take anything back without my permission, so don’t even think about it.”

Tifa sighed, but acquiesced with a grudging grin.

“Thanks, Pax. Even though you went overboard, I appreciate all you’ve done.” She stepped forward and embraced the older woman. Pax hummed and gave Tifa a comforting squeeze.

“Anything for you, honey. Now, I need to head back to the office and close out for the day. Will you be alright?” Tifa nodded. After an affectionate pat, Pax released Tifa. Her warm, brown eyes twinkled through her glasses. “Take care, dear. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, but don’t be a stranger!” Tifa laughed.

“I wouldn’t dare, even if I wanted to. I’d be afraid Larsa would burn down my door.”

“Ah, well, it wouldn’t be the first.”

Tifa gawked at Pax, but missed her chance to ask as she hustled to the front door. As always, Pax took her leave in a flurry of activity and chatter.

“Make sure to keep your door locked. It has an auto-lock system you can engage, but I find that you can’t always rely on technology. You unlock it with your—oh, dear, I almost left without giving you this! Here’s your keycard, don’t let anyone get a hold of it. Your Shinra phone should be on its way and my number should already be programmed in. Larsa’s too, she insisted, but don’t let her know I was the one told you. Be careful of the other SOLDIERs on the floor, I’m sure they’re fine young men, but you can’t be too cautious. Alright, honey, I’ll see you soon! Rest up!” Before Tifa could successfully interject, Pax left, the air whooshing out after her like a whirlwind.

Shaking her head, Tifa locked the door. This special treatment seemed a surefire way to ostracize herself from her peers. Sighing, Tifa turned back to her apartment.

Quiet.

The vast emptiness yawned before her. Every breath echoed off the vaulted ceilings. Besides the pack resting against the couch, nothing personal signified her existence. Tifa snatched it and strode to her room. Closing her door only highlighted the solitude. Solace eluded Tifa as the silence smothered her.

No Dad, no Nibelheim, and no going back.

Just Tifa, in an apartment too big for one person.

Tifa tucked her arms around her chest for comfort. The rapid rate of change sent pangs of anxiety through her. Even though she fantasized the entire trip to Midgar about her life in SOLDIER, the jarring transition sent Tifa’s mind scrambling.

Certainly, the revelation of mako incompatibility was enough to cause panic. Her earlier bravado dissolved and the weight of mortality compressed her ribcage. As her breathing accelerated, she fought against the feeling of failure constricting her throat.

Though Tifa gambled her future on SOLDIER, dying before joining seemed to be a pitiful defeat.

Can I really do this?

Tifa tightened her grip and began to breathe methodically, counting in her head.

One, two, three, four.

It’s gonna be okay.

One, two, three, four.

Her heart rate steadied and Tifa gathered tranquility in a blanket around her shoulders.

No, I’ve already done it.

The moment she departed home was Tifa’s most significant step. What will come to pass will pass, what matters is she started her journey. Her fear of forever languishing in Nibelheim engulfed any worries of death in comparison. Tifa already conquered it by seizing her future and forging a path to Midgar.

It was time to face her next trial.

As her anxieties quieted, so did the tension in her body, and Tifa melted onto her ridiculous bed. Tugging off her travel clothes, she wiggled under the covers. Her cozy nest of blankets radiated warmth. Pax may have thrown her weight around unnecessarily, but this bed was divine. If she ever became overwhelmed again, it could cure her anxiety like a status ailment.

Tifa closed her eyes and revised her previous thought.

It was time to face her next trial tomorrow.

Simmering test tubes emitted a ghostly, aquamarine luster. Their luminescence glimmered in the round spectacles of the man hunched in front of a computer. His pale fingers scribbled incomprehensible shorthand around complex diagrams. He tapped the pen against his chin as he visually dissected the monitor’s display.

A cackle tore itself from his throat. The sound dripped with the same oil saturating his long, unkempt hair spilling around his shoulders.

“Excellent, I think she’ll do quite nicely.”

The grainy, enlarged image of a young woman reflected in the man’s unnerving eyes.

“Yes, indeed. Welcome to SOLDIER.”

The paper indented as he scrawled Subject T.

“Your contributions to science are greatly appreciated.”