Chapter Text
“Tifa?”
Tifa’s eyes open at the sound of Aerith’s hushed voice. The room is engulfed in the darkness of night, but she can still make out various beach themed decorations and furnishings around the room due to a distant floodlight illuminating the outside of the Johnny’s Seaside Inn and spilling into the room through slits of the blinds covering the window. She hadn’t been asleep or even close to it, but there was still the heaviness of fatigue weighing on her eyes.
“Yeah?” She calls back quietly over her shoulder to where Aerith lies in her own bed.
There’s a pause as if Aerith is hesitating, which is unlike her. Tifa starts to feel a bit concerned, but waits patiently. She keeps her neck craned over to show that although her back is turned to Aerith and can’t see her properly, she is still giving her full attention.
The silence between them is briefly interrupted by faint, jovial voices of Costa del Sol tourists still partying into the late night just outside the isolated grounds of the inn. The sound seems to jolt Aerith out of her inner musings.
“Do you think our soul marks could be… wrong?”
The question catches Tifa off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Back in Midgar, we were able to fight against the Whispers—against destiny. We broke free from it,” Aerith explains. “So then… would that affect our soul marks? Who our soulmate is supposed to be?”
Tifa feels highly unqualified to answer such a question. Aerith had been the one to lead the charge against destiny back then. She had seemed to know so much more than anyone else could even begin to understand. Really, it should be the other way around with Tifa asking the question. However, with so much going on, Tifa hasn’t had the time or mental capacity to think about soulmates much.
“I… I don’t know,” Tifa answers, her tone apologetic at being unable to offer any help to her dear friend.
Aerith doesn’t respond. Her silence stretches on and signals to Tifa that the conversation must be over. Tifa is curious about Aerith’s thoughts, but, as open and vulnerable as Aerith can be, there’s always been a mystery about her. One that Tifa knows Aerith is determined to keep to herself, so Tifa never pries.
Tifa closes her eyes, attempting to finally fall asleep for the night, when Aerith speaks up again.
“My soul mark has changed.”
Tifa’s eyes open up again—wide this time. She sits up and shifts in her bed to face Aerith. The brunette had already been sitting up in bed herself, long hair spilling around her shoulders as she gently cradles her wrist in her opposite hand and stares down softly at her soul mark.
“What?” Tifa asks in disbelief.
“I’m not sure when it happened exactly,” Aerith starts, eyes not leaving the soul mark etched into her skin. “It’s still a Z, but…”
Instead of continuing with words, Aerith decides to show Tifa. She throws the covers off of her and crosses the short distance between their beds to sit on Tifa’s and offers her a look at her wrist.
Aerith had shown Tifa her soul mark in the past when she shared the story of her first love and soulmate Zack Fair. The letter Z had been engraved into Aerith’s skin, however, it had been faded and eroded—the sign of a soulmate death.
But looking at Aerith’s wrist now, the Z is bold and fresh as if brand new.
Tifa is stunned, head whirling with possibilities. “Our fight with the Whispers must’ve done it, but what could it mean? Maybe it’s… someone else with a Z name? People don’t usually…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence with 'come back to life’ because it seemed harsh.
Aerith shakes her head firmly, placing a hand over her heart. “It’s him. I can feel it.”
Despite knowing such a scenario would be near impossible, Tifa believes her. Crazier things have happened. She smiles comfortingly. “We’ll figure it out.”
Aerith smiles back briefly, nodding in agreement. She tilts her head then, eyeing Tifa almost sadly, and treads carefully. “I take it your soul mark is still…?”
Tifa feels her body tense up in discomfort at the mention of her soul mark. She knows the answer, yet she needs to double check for that one stubborn little slither of hope remaining in her heart that somehow, someway this is all wrong. She lifts her wrist up, revealing it to herself and Aerith.
It hasn’t changed. The letter V marking her skin stares back at them almost defiantly.
“I’m sorry,” Aerith says sympathetically.
Tifa lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and steadies herself before she shakes her head. “No, it’s okay.”
There are people who don’t even get soul marks—don’t even get soul marks that match in return with their own. There are people, like Aerith at one point, that have dead soul marks. She should be grateful—happy—that she has a living, breathing soulmate. Someone to call her own. Someone destined to love her and for her to love in return.
But she’s not happy.
On the day before her 18th birthday, the day everyone gets their soul mark, she prayed and prayed the letter that would show up on her wrist the next morning would be a C for the young man she had spent many years of her life yearning for. C for Cloud Strife.
Her prayers had gone unanswered and unacknowledged, for she had woken up that morning devastated with a V on her wrist instead.
“Have you talked to him yet at least?” Aerith asks gently, knowing all about Tifa’s dilemma since the night the two traded soul mark stories many moons ago.
Tifa averts her gaze in shame. “Not yet.”
Truth be told, she’d been avoiding speaking to Cloud about the topic of soulmates since they reunited at the sector seven train station in Midgar after being apart for years. Talking about it to him would make it all the more real, which Tifa doesn’t want. She also can’t stomach the thought of hearing who Cloud’s soulmate truly is.
Cloud himself has never broached the topic either. Never asked Tifa anything about her soulmate. Never mentioned anything about his. The uncertainty surrounding Cloud’s soulmate situation bred hope within Tifa that maybe there’s still a chance for the two of them. She could still be his soulmate.
But if that were the case, then why wouldn’t he have come out and told her so by now?
She’s safer in her ignorance.
Aerith grabs her hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out.”
Tifa smiles at her own comforting words being mirrored back to her. “Yeah.”
With that, Aerith makes her way back to her own bed and crawls under the covers. Tifa lowers herself back onto her mattress, curling up on her side.
“Goodnight, Tifa,” Aerith says with a yawn.
“Goodnight, Aerith."
Tifa glances down one last time at the V on her wrist, the persistent hope coiled in her chest burning with prayer for a miracle that there would be a C in place of the V when she woke up in the morning.
The fresh sea air tosses Tifa’s dark locks around lightly. She stands near the Costa del Sol port in the early morning sun, idly tapping her foot on the concrete ground. The heat is still intense at this time of day, but there’s a refreshing chill in the air that keeps it comfortable. The vibrant blue sea before her is mesmerizing and the waves crashing against the sea wall is a soothing sound.
Costa del Sol is the perfect picture of relaxation and reprieve, but Tifa feels anything but.
After her chat with Aerith last night, Tifa had spent the night tossing and turning. It was as if she’d been making up for not thinking about soulmates for months all in one night. The mystery surrounding Cloud’s soulmate, what if scenarios about her being his soulmate, just who her own soulmate is, how this person could possibly be her soulmate over Cloud—it all filled her head throughout the night, leaving her with a meager amount of sleep.
Unsurprisingly, she had woken up this morning to find the V still imprinted onto the skin of her wrist despite her fervent wishes. Though she had known the chances of a change were practically none, it still hurts.
Aerith’s destiny was capable of change. Why isn’t hers?
Tifa sighs, tearing her gaze from the ocean to the hustle and bustle of the town. Tourists were already out and about, grabbing breakfast and rushing to get the best spots on the beach for the day no doubt. Her eyes scan the crowds for her comrades. The group had decided to split up to stock up on supplies and finish up any business left in Costa del Sol before heading for Corel. Tifa hadn’t been in the mood to deal with crowds and noise so she decided to wait near the exit alone.
She had ignored the exchange of glances between Cloud, Barret, and Red XIII when she voiced her decision to stay behind before they sauntered off in different directions. Aerith had understood, being less in the dark about Tifa’s feelings than the others, and offered a comforting smile before she went her way. Yuffie, the newest member of their group, had been oblivious and bolted off without a second thought to the nearest materia vendor.
Tifa continues searching the crowd for a familiar face. Tourists walking on the main road part down the middle and Tifa catches sight of blonde spikey hair tossing in the wind as Cloud emerges. He’s riding a cheery bright yellow segway and the contrast between that and his SOLDIER persona—all black 1st class uniform and his face hard with determination—is an endearingly hilarious sight to Tifa. She laughs, covering her mouth with a gloved fist when she realizes he’s heading toward her.
Cloud stops the segway nearby and steps off of it. He raises a hand to discreetly fix his wind tossed hair, which Tifa, eyes always following the object of her affection, catches and has to stifle another laugh.
Turning at the sound, Cloud frowns in confusion as he approaches Tifa. “What’s so funny?”
Tifa drops the hand covering her amused smile and links her hands together behind her back. “Nothing,” she says innocently.
He observes her curiously for a moment before taking her word and shrugging it off. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a folded up paper and silently hands it to Tifa.
She takes it with interest and unfolds it. It’s a flyer. A flyer written by Jules the bodybuilder from Wall Market, to be exact. He’s asking for help disposing of fiends in the area of the gym.
Tifa remembers how enjoyable it had been to compete at Jules’s gym back in Midgar. It had been a welcome distraction right after the Sector 7 plate had fallen and Aerith had been captured—a form of therapy, even. Since she had started her training with Master Zangan back in her teen years, working out and training had been a form of release for her.
It had been a long while since she felt that release and she’s sorely in need of it.
“You up for it?”
Tifa peers up from the flyer at Cloud, who’s wearing a knowing smirk. She doesn’t even need to say her answer. “Will we have time to?”
Cloud nods, brows furrowed with resolve. “We’ll make time.”
And they do.
It doesn’t take much to convince the others to stop by the gym on the way to Mt. Corel, especially with how firm Cloud is when he announces they’ll be doing so. It’s good to see Jules and the others again. Tifa feels back in her element just being surrounded by work out equipment and the sounds of people pushing themselves to get stronger. Her spirits are already lifting.
The party hangs back while Tifa and Cloud take on the extermination job. Normally, they’d all join in to help out when it came to these kind of side jobs, but there seemed to be a silent agreement of some sort between the rest of the group to stay out of it. They throw an attack here and there for support, but it’s clear that the two have it handled.
Tifa hardly notices their absence anyway. She’s having too much fun with Cloud. He’s swinging her around, launching her at enemies, and coordinating different attacks along with her. In between the fights with monsters, the two are catching up on what they missed in the years they were apart and reminiscing on their shared childhood. Tifa swears some of Cloud’s words even held a flirtatious tone.
When they’re reporting back to Jules that the job is done, a young woman named Amina approaches Tifa to gush about how much she idolizes her after hearing about her victories back at the gym in Wall Market. Tifa is caught off guard, but especially so when Amina challenges her to a sit-up contest. Tifa comes out as the winner, but Amina had put up a good fight. With the promise of Tifa returning from time to time to mentor Amina, Cloud and Tifa say their goodbyes and exit the gym to meet back up with the others.
Yuffie lets out a groan of relief at the sight of them. “Finally! I thought your date would never end!”
Beside her, Aerith not so discreetly jams her elbow into Yuffie’s side.
Yuffie yelps in pain. “Ow! What?!”
“Shut up,” Cloud says dismissively without any real bite, walking past her and the others to the main road. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Tifa chuckles at the exchange and follows him. She realizes he hadn’t denied that it was a date and she feels her face heat up for reasons other than the blazing Corel sun. Normally, she’d go back and forth with herself about what something like this could mean, but she’s in too good of a mood from the day’s events to let any of her doubts cause a stir in her mind. A smile stretches her lips upward.
“You seem to be in higher spirits, Tifa,” Red XIII comments, falling into step with her and peering up at her with his observational gaze.
“Yeah,” Tifa agrees, raising her arms up towards the sky in a stretch before letting them fall back to her sides again. “I feel refreshed.”
“Must be all the ass-kicking,” Cloud suggests from ahead of them with a hint of humor in his voice.
Barret laughs from behind, “That’ll do it!”
It’s true that beating up a bunch of monsters and winning a sit-up contest helped, but the most heart healing part had been the time spent with Cloud, the orchestrator of their activities today.
Quickening her pace, Tifa catches up with Cloud. He turns to her, looking caught off guard for a moment before he relaxes back into his usual impassiveness as he looks forward again and welcomes her presence.
Tifa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for today,” she says, keeping her voice low so the others would have a harder time eavesdropping because they most definitely are eavesdropping. “I really needed it.”
“I could tell,” he admits, briefly glancing over at her. “Glad you’re feeling better now.”
She smiles softly, feeling her heart soar at the knowledge of Cloud going out of his way to cheer her up. She knows he can come off as cold and aloof to others, but inside he really is soft and caring. It makes her feel special to be of the few who get to see that side of him, to be on the receiving end of it.
Thoughts about soulmates are far behind her now. None of it matters now because, in this moment, walking side by side with Cloud—the two of them fidgeting in the shyness of that something between them—she’s happy.
No, the bind of her soulmate can’t touch her now.
Tifa thinks longingly back to their days traversing Corel.
She thinks back to when, yes, things were still tough, but much simpler compared to now.
Cloud’s mental state has become increasingly more concerning the further into their journey they go. There had always been the weird mix up in his memories, but back in Gongaga, it was different. Something inside of him seemed to have snapped, causing him to become violent and brutal. The way he mercilessly killed those Shinra soldiers reminded her of the way Sephiroth had slaughtered the villagers of their hometown five years ago.
But what had reminded her the most of Sephiroth had been the way, after he had suddenly turned on her, he swiped his sword at her and nearly slashed her chest open the same way Sephiroth had—Nearly killed her the way Sephiroth almost had.
The comparison chills her to the bone.
She knows it’s not Cloud’s fault, though. Whether it’s mako complications, degradation, or something else, it’s not him.
Tifa had vowed to him that she would save him, just as he had promised to save her.
However, she would have to find a way to save him with her hands—all of their hands—full from trying to save the planet. Cloud attacking her had led to her falling into mako and being swallowed up by one of the planet’s Weapons, who had given her a glimpse of the ongoing battle against Sephiroth and the Whispers within the lifestream.
That, along with the knowledge of the powerful and destructive black materia spoken of by the Gi Tribe in Cosmo Canyon, gives the foreboding feeling that something sinister is brewing.
And on top of all of that, there’s the war between Shinra and Wutai looming. The bodies of deceased Wutai ninjas that they discovered at the Mt. Nibel reactor will have to be answered for. Especially if Yuffie has anything to say about it.
As if things couldn’t get any worse, Tifa develops her own personal problem.
Her wrist itches.
It itches and itches and itches no matter how much she scratches.
“My wrist was itching like crazy when, all of a sudden, bam! He came crashing in through the ceiling!” Aerith’s words recounting the tale of her first meeting with her soulmate are haunting Tifa.
She tells herself maybe she came into contact with some poison ivy. They’ve been traveling through so much wilderness throughout their journey, it was bound to happen at some point. However, the skin of her wrist is covered by her gloves. She couldn’t have come in any contact with it.
Tifa’s chest squeezes with anxiety when it really hits her that this might actually be happening.
She might meet her soulmate very soon.
But she can’t fathom how it’s happening here of all places.
Shinra mansion has been abandoned for years. Growing up in Nibelheim, she knew anyone and everyone was absolutely forbidden from going anywhere near the mansion. Not even the mayor had stepped foot on the property. There had been rumors spread around the village about various vicious monsters and vengeful ghosts inhabiting the mansion as the result of evil experiments conducted there. No one had taken it upon themselves to confirm the legitimacy of the rumors. However, knowing what she knows now about how Shinra operates, Tifa wouldn’t be surprised if they were true.
As her gaze roams the disrepair and mess scattered about the deserted main hall of Shinra manor, she can’t help but wonder which one her soulmate could be—a monster or a ghost?
A loud sneeze startles her out of her thoughts.
“Sorry,” Red XIII says sheepishly between sniffles. “There’s a lot of dust in here.”
“This place is a dump!” Yuffie complains, whacking away a cobweb she nearly walked into face first. “Where are the others?”
“I was following their scents, but—” he sneezes again and quickly shakes his fur out. "I got mixed up with all this dust.”
“They’re probably down in the basement,” Cloud says, stepping forward and taking the lead.
They make their way down a hallway, passing a long dinning table still set with empty plates, utensils, and unlit candles. On the other side of the room are two more dinning tables, smaller and circular, and behind them is an old, worn down grand piano. It’s all covered in dust, of course.
At the end of the hallway, there’s a boarded off door and next to that is an elevator. Cloud presses the button beside it on the wall, opening up the door with a ding! They file in one by one and the door closes behind them. Tifa tucks herself into one of the four corners, back against the wall. The itch plaguing her wrist worsens as Cloud hits the down button and the elevator begins descending. She resists scratching, folding her arms across her chest to restrain herself. She doesn’t want to risk the others catching on to what’s happening to her.
“This thing isn’t gonna crash, right?” Yuffie asks with a nervous laugh. “It’s old, but not too old, right?”
Cloud shrugs. “It worked fine five years ago.”
“Five years ago? That’s not helpful at all!” She exclaims, placing her hands on her head in distress. “What about, like, this morning?!”
“The others must’ve used this elevator too, so I’m sure it’s alright,” Red XIII says.
Yuffie pauses her oncoming meltdown and thinks about it. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right!” She grins, crouching down to ruffle the fur on Red XIII’s head. His tail begins to wag in response, the flame burning at the tip of his tail swaying side to side.
Tifa shifts uncomfortably in her spot, feeling bad having not bothered to comfort Yuffie like she normally would, but she’s really not up for it right now. The elevator may not be crashing down, but she feels like she’s about to.
Cloud pivots to face her, picking up on her silence. She meets his questioning gaze and only offers a reassuring smile. He doesn’t seem convinced, but the elevator stops with another ding! to signal their arrival at the basement and Tifa steps out the second the door opens to avoid any conversation.
She takes the stone steps down further and suddenly stops in her tracks. She doesn’t know what she was expecting the Shinra manor basement to look like, but this is… this is something else.
The room is wide and open, with a strange big, square-shaped hole in the middle of the floor. There’s only two other large doors connected to this room leading to who knows where. Various words and art on the natural underground rock walls are scattered around the room. It’s hard to make out what the writings say from where Tifa is standing, but she can clearly see a large, urgent TURN BACK scrawled on the wall directly across from her.
“I couldn’t believe it my first time either,” Cloud reveals, standing beside her and taking in the sight of the basement all over again. “Seems like the rumors we heard growing up were mostly true. Too bad this place didn’t burn down with the rest of the village.”
“They would’ve just rebuilt it anyway,” Tifa replies bitterly, clenching her fists.
He scowls, evidently thinking of the new Nibelheim built over the ashes of their Nibelheim, and agrees, “Yeah, they would.”
Yuffie whistles, astonished as she steps further into the room and looks around. “What do you think they used it for?”
“Nothing good,” Cloud answers.
Red XIII walks ahead, lifting his nose up into the air. He sniffs at something the others can’t and follows it over to the square hole in the ground. “The others were here,” he concludes, bringing his nose down to sniff around the hole. “It wasn’t that long ago.”
Tifa approaches the hole carefully, bending forward and bracing her hands on her knees to try to get a better look down into the darkness. Tifa’s fingers twitch with the urge to scratch at her wrist, where the itch has begun to burn. “It looks like a trap door,” she comments, trying to distract herself. “I hope they’re okay.”
As if on cue, the group hears footsteps drawing close from behind. They turn to find Cait Sith, Aerith, and Barret emerging from the stairwell their own group had just came from. The two groups finally merge once more, exchanging greetings and updates. Barret claims he and his group had gotten a little ‘sidetracked’ and hadn’t found the terminal they were looking for, but Cait Sith encourages the group to keep looking. They agree.
The most obvious place to search first is across the gaping hole in the ground, in the room behind two large metal doors with the Shinra logo painted on. Cloud tries the doors, but they’re locked tightly. The party turns to face the other set of double doors, these ones wooden, and Cloud makes his way over to give them a try. The door creaks open and he cautiously pokes his head into the room.
A feeling of apprehension suddenly seizes Tifa as the itch ailing her wrist flares. She grips her wrist with her other hand and squeezes it tightly as if she could choke the life out of fate, destiny, magic, or whatever it is that creates soulmate bonds.
Cait Sith comes up behind Cloud and practically shoves him out of the way, causing Cloud to stumble forward into the door and open it wider.
“Pardon me,” Cait Sith says unapologetically, marching further into the room.
Tifa falls to the back of the group as the others curiously follow Cait Sith in. Her legs feel like lead. She only manages to take a few steps further and she hovers by the doors.
The room is less than half the size of the huge main room outside, so it’s easy to feel crowded with the whole party exploring the inside. There’s a lit oil lamp on a small table in the center of the room, lit candle sticks on tall candelabras around the room, and lanterns on the walls all warmly illuminating the room. A desk sits off to the side with an open book and other books laying around it. Even more books are nestled in a tall bookshelf on the other side of the room near the doors. Three coffins are lined up at the back of the room with the left and right coffins uncovered and empty. The center coffin is covered as if in use.
Notably, this room is covered in less dust than any other room they’ve been in.
Cait Sith approaches the covered coffin, examining the sigil decorating the cover. “Decor’s a bit… grim, no?” He comments, tilting his head.
Cloud proceeds toward the other side of the covered coffin and kneels down on one knee, reaching a hesitant hand to it.
Tifa can’t take it anymore. All her restraint goes out of the door and she scratches at her wrist. It’s hardly any relief though, since the black fabric of her long glove is covering her skin. She scratches even more furiously.
The movement catches the attention of Aerith standing nearby. She blinks, confused for a moment before she lets out a quiet gasp as the realization hits her. Tifa is about to meet her—
“Who dares disturb my slumber?” A muffled voice within the coffin demands.
Before anyone can react, the cover of the coffin flies off. It goes hurtling over Cloud’s head and skids away as it hits the ground. A male figure, clad in red, soars high above from out of the coffin, legs kicking up into a backflip. He gracefully floats down, landing on his feet at the head of his coffin.
A red cloak covers his wide shoulders, draping down his back and around his form like a cape. Underneath the cloak, he’s dressed in black leather with various belts and buckles decorating his slim figure and a long gun holster strapped to his thigh. The few pieces of armor he’s wearing are accented in gold—a claw gauntlet covering his arm gleams in the light almost threateningly. His hair is black as night, long and straight down the ends but choppy and wild at the top. The collar of his cloak is tall, concealing the lower half of his face.
He has a rather unique look to him, but what stands out most of all are his eyes.
They’re a striking shade of red. One even glows dimly beneath the shadow of his long bangs. He suspiciously scans the group before him with his mesmerizing eyes.
When his gaze finds Tifa’s, the air instantly leaves her lungs.
His eyes widen just a mere fraction. Something painful gleams in them very briefly before he furrows his brow, almost stubbornly so, and tears his gaze away from her to assess the rest of her comrades.
Tifa’s heart suddenly jump starts, her chest heaving with the ability to breathe again. The strong pull she felt toward him when their eyes met had nearly knocked her off balance. The burning itch on her wrist is soothed, slowly beginning to fade away. Her mind is racing with a million thoughts. Is this normal? Is this how it happens for everyone? She’s never felt this with anyone else before. Not even with Cloud.
“Well?” The man prompts again when no one answers.
His deep voice rumbles through Tifa. It’s calming, like the low roll of thunder on a rainy summer night. She closes her eyes, taking this small moment of relief and trying to steady herself. She doesn’t want to feel this way. It’s not supposed to be like this. It shouldn’t be. The person making her feel this way should’ve been—
“Doesn’t matter,” she hears Cloud say defensively. “Who are you?”
“Vincent Valentine,” he answers.
Tifa pictures the bold letter V etched into the skin of her wrist. Her heart swells, but it’s cracking too—being crushed under the weight of reality.
She opens her eyes at the same time his gaze flickers to her once more. Tifa freezes.
There’s no mistaking it.
Vincent Valentine is her soulmate.