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It was the beginning of October, a day seemingly like any other, that Cloud did not leave for work in the morning.
The fact wasn't lost on Tifa, who usually rose shortly before him, as the first lights of dawn washed over Edge.
The sounds of him moving about in his room across the hall, the rustling of his clothes as he got ready, were a comfort she had been learning to enjoy, a part of her own routine.
Yet, on this morning, he stayed perfectly still, content to lie in bed.
The day had been one marked on the planner in his office for some time.
She knew that he had changed and promised to devote more time to the people close to him. He had shown as much, arriving home early to help around the bar, or walking the kids home from school.
While it had become a more regular occurrence for him, Tifa knew there was a different reason behind his decision to stay today.
Taken by the urge to be in his company, for her own sake as much as his, Tifa would similarly pitch a sign out the front of the bar, offering apologies for their closure that evening.
Without the need to prompt her, Tifa shadowed Cloud as he walked out to the garage, beginning to pack Fenrir. The bike’s compartments were devoid of any route plans or packages, Cloud set to only make one trip that day: a path that he could follow as easily as the lines in his own palms.
As he mounted Fenrir, kicking the stand away, his eyes flickered over his shoulder, extending out an extra helmet and pair of goggles just for her.
.
It was an eerie feeling, returning to Nibleheim.
In the years that had followed Meteor, the collapse of Midgar and their heir apparent's defeat at the hands of Avalanche, there had been a shift among the Shinra Electrical Company.
No longer were they trying to bury their past sins, but instead wearing them on their sleeves, atoning.
It meant that the paid actors who had once occupied the town, pretending to be its residents, were removed, while the reconstructed town remained instead as a monument, an epitaph to the lives lost in that terrible tragedy.
The buildings had become smothered by overgrown foliage, some blades of the unkempt glass almost reaching as high as their knees.
Though Tifa had faced the rebuilt Nibleheim before, her childhood home inhabited by strangers, it wasn't any less confronting to stand in today. If anything, its current state of emptiness served as a more powerful reminder of what had been taken.
Seeing it recreated, in such perfect, painstaking detail, evoked painfully bittersweet feelings for them. As though they could reach out and return to that point in time, before their lives had been damaged so irreversibly.
Her throat tightening, and eyes glossy, Tifa took a deep but shaky breath. Her quivering was steadied by the touch of Cloud's hand, a warmth still radiating from the pad of his glove.
Turning, she was greeted by the soft, cerulean of his eyes; the green hue that tinged didn't seem quite as overwhelming.
"Hey. You okay?"
She nodded, determined not to shy away. Knowing, in her heart, that it was something they both needed to do.
Much of the regret and hurt they still carried stemmed from how cruelly and abruptly everything had unfolded. From Sephiroth’s senseless, indiscriminate murder of all those people, to the cold, efficient manner in which Shinra had cleared the rubble and built a cruel imitation in the former town’s place.
The capacity to ever truly return to their home, was ripped away before they’d even realised, leaving them with nothing.
Not the chance to if anything had survived, to retrieve the ashes of their loved ones, to properly say goodbye.
It left a heavy weight in her heart.
No trace of Nibleheim existed beyond the memories they held. When later they were faced with a reality that seemed to go against that, so much of who they were, and what they thought they knew was plagued by doubt.
With her mother, who had fallen to illness, Tifa had had time to digest the idea that she might not pull through. As difficult as it had been to accept, at that young an age, it had helped ease the loss somewhat.
Over time, though, it festered into a painful realisation of how truly powerless she was to change anything. That any action she took seemed to only add to their grief.
The more she tried, the more apparent it became. Their efforts as part of Avalanche seeing Jessie, Biggs and Wedge slip away, her home reduced to rubble for a second time. Their voyage to stop Sephiroth, seeing Aerith taken from them. Nothing they did, it seemed, could ever rid her of that dull ache inside.
Though, being with Cloud, seemed to temper that helplessness and gave her hope that this might finally be able to bring them closure.
Small bouquets of white lilies were spread before their former homes. The significance they had learnt of from their late friend.
It was bittersweet, in many ways.
A chance to pull from the knowledge and unique affinity she had for nature, falling upon them for this somber occasion. From a young woman who had faced the same tragedy as them; honouring the life of a loved one well before their time.
Tifa’s hands clasped together in silent prayer, a gesture their friend had taken many times before, hoping her voice could reach those who had returned to the Planet.
Perhaps she could bring them peace, knowing that she was alive and well. Perhaps that way, they could rest soundly.
Tifa’s eyes traced the edge of the old water tower. The wood rooting, and metal supports rusted as pieces hung off, creaking uselessly in the wind.
Yet, somehow, it was still standing. Ravaged by flame, the wild storms that preceded Meteor, somehow even through the harshest conditions the Planet could bring, it endured.
Much like the nature that still thrived around them, a sign of the life and beauty that continued.
It was a relief, a reminder of Cloud’s presence beside her.
That they still had each other.
That they too, could rebuild.