Chapter Text
The age of war has finally come to an end. Many samurai and warriors fought in the war; many earned glory and fame, but many names were never mentioned and were left to history. One of the names that was mentioned the most was “Sephiroth,” an aspiring samurai warrior wielding a long sword known as the ‘Masamune.’ He was part of the shogun’s fighting force, serving them. Many called him the ‘War Hero,’ but after the war, he mysteriously disappeared after residing in an outskirt village. After that, no one knew if he was alive or dead, and he was left as a legend.
After the war, what held power wasn’t swordsmanship anymore. It was politics, power, and many more that shaped society. One of the most fearsome clans that formed after the war was the Lockhart clan. Known for their all-rounder abilities, they had the military, intelligence, wealth, and many more. But beneath it all lay Tifa Lockhart. She was the only daughter in the clan, which sounded supreme and all, but the clan never treated her the same as her brothers.
She was viewed by her father as merely a tool used to increase relationships with other powerful clans, a political tool. Her brothers were supported and trained to be leaders, while she was left out of it all. But with an ancient clan tradition, every heir was offered a personal bodyguard once they turned 8. A highly trained, personalized bodyguard.
And that then came for Tifa. She sat quietly in her room by her father’s commands before a knock was heard in front. There she was, excited; she never received any present-like stuff from her father at all, and this might be the first time she actually got… something.
Then the door slid open, and there she saw her father holding a little boy’s hand. The boy was expressionless with bandages on his cheeks. His eyes were bright blue, but they were empty. The most noticeable feature was his spiky blonde hair that seemed to go wild. But most of all, the kid looked… small, not someone who’d be suitable for this bodyguard.
“Good news, Tifa. We found this kid on the street many days ago. He’ll be your bodyguard from now on,” her father spoke, his tone still cold as ever. Then he threw the kid into the room with her as her father called the maid. “Bring in the food!”
The maid then appeared and brought two trays of food. Yes, this was part of their tradition as well; eating the first meal together would definitely help straighten the bond, is what the elders said.
After the food was placed, the maid bowed down before exiting, as well as her father closed the door shut. Tifa looked at the young boy standing still where her father had thrown him as she examined him. He seemed to be the same age as her, so she gave him a bright smile.
“You can sit down. Let’s eat together.” She spoke softly.
The boy didn’t say anything, but he walked toward the opposite side of Tifa where the trays were placed, and he sat down quietly.
“You look like you haven’t eaten in days. Eat up, alright! We have the best chef in the whole town,” Tifa spoke, trying to just be nice in general and not let it be too tense.
The boy didn’t say anything but picked up the chopsticks carefully and started eating, actually like someone who hadn't eaten in a long time.
Tifa smiled softly at the sight, but her mind was filled with thoughts. This boy wouldn’t even pass as a bodyguard… her father just found someone cheap, or who cost nothing for her just to continue the family's tradition.’ She was mad, but she was used to it by now and had no say in this, so she let the thoughts go.
She filled the thought with something positive, as she always did. Maybe this could be her first friend whenever she felt left out…
“What’s your name? I’m Tifa!” She asked, curiously.
The boy stopped eating and just stared at her. At first, she thought he didn’t know how to speak since her father had found him on the street, but the boy opened his mouth.
“Cloud…Cloud Strife.” He answered quietly, looking down shyly.
Tifa smiled brightly at the response. “Nice to meet you, Cloud! Your name sounds so cool. Which of your parents came up with the name?” she asked, trying to make small talk.
Thereafter, as the question was spoken out suddenly, Cloud’s expression changed. His eyes widened as he placed his hand over his mouth, almost as if he were about to throw up. He was shaking…
“Oh—! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that,” she said quickly, waving her hands a little in panic. “You don’t have to answer. It’s okay.”
Cloud didn’t say anything but just let go of his hand and continued eating, and they did that for the whole time. Tifa was so taken aback by the young boy’s response that she was afraid to speak any further.
After they finished the meal, a maid opened the door, swooping in to clean the trays and walking off. And there, one of her older brothers, ‘Vincent,’ walked in. He was the eldest of her clan, but somehow treated her better than the others did. He was just quiet, that was all. But despite being forbidden to talk to each other, Vincent would leave a gift in front of her room in secret.
Upon entering, he glanced over at Cloud.
“You, boy. Your training starts today,” Vincent spoke with a calm and cold voice, looking sharply at Cloud.
“Training?” Tifa questioned.
“He wouldn’t qualify as a bodyguard without proper training,” Vincent answered before turning his back toward the room as Cloud stood up.
“Wait, but he’s just—“ Before Tifa could finish, Cloud walked out of the room, and Vincent shut the door.
Tifa let out a small sigh but smiled softly. Normally, the trainees would be trained by a hired professional teacher, but Cloud wasn’t put in that program by her father. But luckily, Vincent wanted to offer to train him for the sake of Tifa’s safety.
She smiled at the thought. He was probably the only one blood-related to her who cared for her.
2 years later
In the morning rays of sunshine, young 10-year-old Tifa sneaks out to take a small walk around the Lockhart estate. She knew that she wasn’t meant to come outside unless told, but she’d been locked inside that room for too long. Then he heard a sound from afar, near the training ground, a sound of clashing wooden swords and a faint battle cry.
She went around the corner and peeked a bit to see her brother ‘Vincent’ sparring with Cloud. Their speed was intense; she didn’t even know this side of her brother, but somehow Cloud was keeping up with him despite the height difference. But then, with a loud thud, Vincent was able to disarm Cloud's training sword and pointed the wooden sword at Cloud's chin, lifting it up.
“You lack speed. You focus too much on strength, that it slows you down. Find a balance between those two.” Vincent spoke coldly before lifting his blade down and walking out of the training field, leaving Cloud to stand there.
Cloud let out a small sigh before walking toward his fallen wooden sword. Before he could pick it up, he was stopped by two men...one of Tifa's older brothers and his bodyguard.
“Hey, war trash shouldn’t touch a training sword.” The man spoke in harsh, sharp tones.
“Yeah! You’re not even supposed to be training at all, weakling,” the bodyguard laughed, twirling his wooden blade lazily.
Cloud stayed silent, eyes lowered as he tried to reach for his fallen sword. The older brother scoffed. “Dirty war scrap. Father only keeps you around out of pity. You think swinging a stick makes you a samurai?”
The bodyguard kicked Cloud’s wooden sword away before he could grab it. The weapon quickly skidded across the dity.
Tifa’s breath caught in her throat from where she hid. She wanted to go out and help him, but she knew it’d only make things worse. She gritted her teeth, watching the scene, knowing nothing could be done.
Cloud finally lifted his head, his gaze were empty, not angry, and not afraid. Just quiet. Seeing this, the bodyguard grinned wider. “What? Gonna cry?” he spits before shoving Cloud’s shoulder. The boy staggered half a step back but didn’t fall.
Another shove. Harder, but still, Cloud stood his ground and didn’t speak. As the older brother clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Useless. Vincent wastes his time on you.”
Cloud’s fingers curled slowly at his side, then quietly, steadily, he spoke for the first time that morning.
“Pick it up.”
The bodyguard blinked. “What?”
“My sword,” Cloud said, voice flat. “Pick it up.”
For a moment, there was silence; only the sound of the wind could be heard in the air. Then the bodyguard burst out laughing. “You wanna give orders now?”
But the older brother smirked. “Alright then. Let’s make this fun. If you can land one hit on my guard…I’ll leave you alone.”
Cloud met his gaze. “I don’t need that,” he said.
Then he took a step forward. “I challenge you to a duel.”
The whole training ground went silent; their eyes were locked on the conflict. The bodyguard's smile vanished. “You’re joking.”
Cloud shook his head once. “Right here. Right now.”
The older brother’s eyes narrowed with interest and something cruel. “Fine. But I’ll not hold back for a piece of trash like you.”
The bodyguard threw a new wooden blade toward Cloud, and he caught it mid-air.
The two faced each other within the training ring, loose dirt already moving beneath their feet. The bodyguard rolled his shoulders, grinning. The older brother stays just beyond the edge, watching like a vulture.
Then the bodyguard charged at Cloud with a fast, heavy, and reckless move.
The first strike screamed through the air. Cloud managed to twist aside, the blow grazing past his ribs as dust burst beneath his feet. Wood slammed against wood, hard enough to rattle his arms.
The second strike came immediately after, and Cloud was able to block it cleanly. The impact jolted straight through his bones. But before he could counter and a shadow moved behind him.
A sudden pain exploded across his shoulder. Causing Cloud to stumble forward as the older brother’s strike hits from behind. His breath tore from his lungs as his boots dug furrows through the dirt.
Laughter rang out.
“Too slow,” the bodyguard mocked. But they didn’t wait as the bodyguard rushed from the front while the brother attacked from the back.
Cloud whirled just in time to deflect the final blow, but was too late to stop the second. Wood smashed into his ribs as his vision flashed white. He dropped to one knee, coughing air.
The older brother stepped closer, looming. “You really thought we’d fight you fair?”
The bodyguard raised his blade for a finishing strike, but something inside Cloud snapped into place.
Not rage.
Not fear.
Determination.
As Cloud surged forward, he ducked under the downward strike so close that the wind from it tore through his spiky hair. Spinning on his heel, he drove the flat of his blade into the bodyguard’s knee.
CRACK.
The man collapsed with a strangled yell. Before the older brother could react, Cloud pivoted and struck his wrist in one sharp, brutal blow. As the sword flew from the man’s hand. But Cloud didn’t stop.
He stepped closer to the brother’s guard and slammed the hilt into his jaw.
THUD.
The older brother hit the ground beside his guard, groaning. As dust drifted through the air. Silence followed.
Cloud stood at the center of the ring, panting heavily. One arm trembled faintly from the impact on his shoulder. A thin line of blood slipped from beneath his sleeve and stained the dirt at his feet. As he slowly lowered his blade.
A clap could be heard from a far, every eyes turned toward the sound, and it was Vincent. He was walking casually while clapping slowly. “Excellently done, Cloud,” Vincent said after he arrived in the rings.
“Your technique was flawless, but it could use more work,” Vincnet commented, and Cloud bows down respectfully in return.
“And you two.” Vincent’s tone shifted.
The warmth vanished from his voice as a blade withdraws from flesh.
“Disgust me,” he said calmly. “You’ve dishonored the way of the samurai.”
The brother tried to push himself up on shaky arms. “Brother, he—”
“Silence.” The single word that cut sharper than any strike.
Vincent stepped closer, his shadow falling over them both. His gaze was unreadable, but the pressure in the air was suffocating.
“You ambushed an opponent who stood alone. You struck from behind. You turned a duel into a slaughter born of cowardice.” His eyes narrowed. “And you dare to call yourselves samurai?”
The bodyguard swallowed hard as Vincent’s voice dropped lower.
“A war scrap found on a battlefield, starving, wounded, half dead—” He gestured toward Cloud without looking at him. “stood his ground alone against two blades and did not break.”
Then his eyes snapped back to them. “And you? You broke honor first.”
The brother’s face flushed red with shame and fury. “He’s just an orphan—!”
Vincent moved so fast the air cracked. His heel slammed into the brother's ribs, sending him skidding through the dirt. He landed coughing, the sound wet and panicked
“Orphan,” Vincent repeated coldly, “is a title forged by survival.”
Then he turned toward the bodyguard, who was frozen in terror.
“You wear a sword,” Vincent said, stepping closer, “but you carry no spine to wield it. A blade in your hands is nothing more than a tool for bullying.”
He leaned down just enough for them both to hear.
“Even a war scrap stands taller than you.”
After Vincent spoke, silence crushed across the yard. Only Cloud’s breathing could be heard. Vincent straightened and turned back to Cloud. His voice softened, just slightly.
“You are dismissed. Get that shoulder treated.”
Cloud hesitated for half a heartbeat…then bowed deeply. “Yes, Master.” As Cloud stepped past them, blood still trailing from his sleeve, neither of the fallen men dared to look up at him.
Vincent looks back at both the men on the ground and took one final look at them both his gaze cold, unyielding.
“I hope,” he said quietly, “for your sake, that this was a one-time mistake.”
Cloud didn’t get too far. As he slipped through the narrow path behind the training grounds, where the stone walls rose high and the noise of the estate finally faded. His steps were slower now, one hand pressed lightly on his bleeding shoulder.
Then—quick, light footsteps.
“C-Cloud!”
He stopped.
Tifa hurried into view from behind the wooden post, clutching a small cloth bundle to her chest. Her hair was a little messy from running, and her breathing was uneven. And for a second, they just stared at each other. They technically haven’t talked to each other for the past 2 years. But then Tifa remembered why she came and quickly held the bundle out toward him.
“I—I brought you something.”
Cloud blinked, confused as she unfolded the cloth to reveal a small, round mochi, a little squished from being squeezed too tight.
“It’s my snack,” she said shyly. “But…you can have it. Since you fought so hard.”
Cloud’s eyes dropped to the mochi, then to her, then back to the mochi. “I don’t need it,” he said quietly.
Tifa puffed her cheeks just a little. “But I want you to have it.”
That made him pause, and slowly, carefully, he reached out and took it from her hands.
“...Thank you.”
She smiled instantly, but then she noticed the blood seeping through his sleeve and gasped. “Y-You’re bleeding!”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he lied.
Tifa frowned, clearly not believing him. “You were really amazing back there,” she said quickly, as she needed him to hear it. “You didn’t give up at all. Even when there were two of them.”
Cloud looked away, ears turning a little red. “I just…did what I was taught.”
“Well,” she said firmly, “I think you were really cool.”
That made him look back at her; his eyes sparkled up slightly. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Distant voices echoed from the estate, startling Tifa. “I–I should go back before they notice.”
She took a few steps back, then paused.
“I’ll see you around, right?” She asked.
“Y-yeah…” Cloud responded shyly before Tifa let out another bright smile and walked away.
Cloud stood there alone in the quiet path, holding the mochi with both hands like it was something fragile and important.
After a moment, he took a small bite.
It was warm.
Sweet.
And for the first time in two years. He didn’t feel completely invisible.
6 years later
Steel screamed across the training grounds. This time, it didn’t sound like a clumsy clash of children practicing with blades anymore. It was sharp and filled with violence. The ring was crowded with clan members and servants, all gathered beneath the high noon sun to witness what had become a regular occurrence.
And yet no one ever grew bored of it. At sixteen, Cloud stood at the center of the ring.
He had grown tall. Lean muscle carved beneath years of relentless training. His blonde spiky hair is now tied loosely at the end of the nape of his neck. His eyes were no longer hollow like they were before; now they were fierce and full of determination.
Across from him stood Vincent. The strongest swordsman in the clan. The undefeated heir, who has won many battles in the past 6 years, faced many fearsome enemies. And of course, the only veteran who fought in the war with his father.
Both their wooden blades were raised, and for a second, silence filled their field.
Then Vincent moved first as his strike came like thunder, fast, brutal, powerful enough to shatter bone through wood alone. Cloud was able to twist aside in time, the edge of the strife ripping through empty air where his ribs had been half a second ago.
Dust exploded beneath their feet as they collided again.
Strike after strike after strike.
Vincent pressed hard, relentless. His blade forced Cloud back across the ring with hard blows. Cloud blocked one, two, then ducked a third that would have crushed his skull. The ground scarred beneath his feet as he slid, barely able to keep his balance.
The crowd held their breath upon the tension as Vincent shifted his stance and changed rhythm. A trap that Cloud saw it but he reacted too late. As wood slammed into his shoulder with bone-shuddering force. He spun sideways, boots digging deep into dirt as pain spread throughout his arm.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Vincept stepped forward. “You’re hesitating. Never hesitate when an enemy is in front of you.”
Cloud didn’t answer, but he adjusted not to move faster but smarter as he let Vincent come to him, letting the next strike fall. But at the last second, Cloud didn’t retreat. He surged forward, cutting the inside of the swing just before it could land. Wood screeched against wood as his blade slid down Vincent’s guard, locking their weapons together in a violent, breathless clash.
Then Cloud turned. The hilt of his blade slammed into Vincent’s ribs, hard. As Vincent grunted as the air left his lungs. But Cloud didn’t stop there.
He swept low, a perfect, brutal strike that took Vincet’s footing out from under him and sent him crashing into the dirt, forming a storm of dust.
Gasps erupted from the spectators as Vincent rolled up, barely regaining his stance in time to block the next strike aimed for his throat. Their blades locked again, faces inches apart.
And for the first time, Vincent smiled. Not mocking, but he was proud. “Good,” he breathed. Right after Vincent spokes, they broke apart and clashed again with neither of them holding back.
The duel consumed the entire ring. Wood cracked against each other in violent echoes. Sweat streamed into Cloud’s eyes, his lungs burning with every breath, yet Vincent’s crushing attacks were met again and again, each one stopped by Cloud’s unnervingly perfect timing. But for the first time in his years of Vincent training, he was able to keep up.
Cloud waited, just a fraction of a second. As Vincent swung his wooden blade, he stepped inside the strike instead of away, knocking Vincent’s blade aside with a sharp twist of his own. Their weapons collided with a loud crack. But before Vincent could recover, Cloud struck again, snapping his blade against Vincent’s grip. The force tore the wooden sword from Vincent’s hand, sending it spinning through the air before it hit the dirt. The duel ended in complete silence.
Cloud froze, blade still raised his breathing panting hard. While Vincent stared at his empty hand and slowly, he slowly let out a laugh. A deep, rich sound that echoed across the ring.
“You’ve surpassed me.”
Shock rippled through the crowd as Vincent stepped forward and placed his hand against Cloud’s shoulder softly.
“I no longer have anything to teach you. “ Vincent said at last. His voice carried across the ring. “From here on, the path you walk is yours to choose. You’re still young, Cloud. Your hands and your mind will grow sharper. “
He lifted one hand and snapped his fingers once. There, his personal guard stepped forward, carrying something long wrapped in pristine white cloth. As the fabric slowly drew away, steel flashed in the sunlight, Vincent’s sword, the very blade that forged his name in war.
“You can have my sword,” Vincent said gently. “Not because you are finished learning, but because your future is sharper than mine ever was.”
“That’s not fair! Why are you giving away our clan sword to some orphan!” The same brother shouted. But Vincent didn’t even look at him.
“If you want it,” he said coldly, “then take it from him.”
The brother fell silent as he lowered his head down embarrassed. Before Vincent continues, he grabs the sword from his bodyguard and hands it to Cloud.
“Take it, it’s yours,” Vincent said softly.
Cloud straightened up as he bowed down and reached for the sword. Once in his view, he inspected the shiny metal. On the sword, carved Vincent's name alongside the Lockhart clan symbol.
“Thank you, Master,” Cloud spoke softly.
Vincent let out a small chuckle. “I’m not your master anymore, Cloud. You grew beyond my shadow a long time ago.”
“I don’t care. You’ll always be my master…and I’ll always respect you.”
Vincent’s lips curved into something small but real. “Tch…you’ve always been stubborn.” His voice softened. “Very well. I’ll wear that honor.” The crowd burst into applause as the servants cheered his name.
Amongst the crowd stood Tifa, watching from a distance. At sixteen, she looked as though the years had taught her how to glow quietly with dark lashes framing thoughtful eyes, soft lips curved with unspoken emotion, her beauty resting not in boldness, but in the way she simply existed. She raised her hands and slowly clapped as well, and Cloud noticed it.
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Tifa mouthed the word ‘Good work today.’ Cloud didn’t say anything, but he turned his face away, his ears kinda red. Maybe from the duel or from something else.
There she saw her father looking at the field as well, but he didn’t care and even more frustrated. She gets him thought…seeing his own heir fall to some random orphans isn’t the best sight to see.
—---------------------------------------------
Later that night, Tifa sat before her vanity, slowly brushing her long hair with delicate strokes. Each stroke was steady and elegance drilled into her since childhood. The lantern light cast a warm glow over her reflection, yet her eyes looked distant, unfocused.
The soft slide of the wooden door made her pause as her father stepped inside. He moved with quiet authority, his presence filling the room with a word. He settled down across from her, sitting on the tatami mat in front of the vanity. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the faint sound of the brush against her hair remained.
“Tifa,” he finally said, his voice calm and cold.
He straightened his back, hands folded in his lap. “The arrangements have been finalized. The Lockhart clan has secured your marriage.”
The words that slipped through her father's mouth were not a surprise. She had known this day would come. It had been promised to her since she was old enough to understand what her birth meant. Still, her breath hitched when he added the rest.
“You will depart for the groom’s estate…next week.”
The brush slipped slightly in her grip.
Next week?
So soon…
Her father continued.” This union will strengthen our clan. You’ve done well, my daughter. I am proud of you.”
Proud. The word felt heavy in her chest. She knew he was only saying that purely because of what the union could bring this clan and never for her own sake. On the outside, she remained the perfect daughter, silent, graceful, and obedient. But on the inside, her heart sank, folding on itself like a fragile paper.
She did not feel proud; she didn’t even know who the groom was or who she’d be spending the rest of her life with.
After a pause, her father spoke again, his tone softening just a little. “Before you leave…there will be a fireworks festival in the coming days. You may attend it.”
Her eyes flickered up in surprise.
“For the last time,” he added quietly.
That single sentence sparked something small in her chest, a faint, small warmth. It wasn’t happiness, not fully, but it was something she could hold onto. One final night before everything changed.
“Yes, Father,” she whispered.
The firework festival had finally arrived, and Tifa felt like she had stepped into another world. The streets were so crowded she could barely see the stone path beneath her sandals. Warm lantern light spilled over rows of snack stalls and game booths, painting everything in shades of gold and red. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, sweet syrup, and fried dough, making her stomach ache with hunger. Laughter rang out everywhere with children shouting, vendors calling, and friends bumping into one another as they walked. Somewhere far above, a test fire cracked faintly in the sky, and her heart jumped in anticipation.
And above it all, she glanced over at Cloud, her bodyguard, who was awkwardly standing far away from her. She knew her father would send him here, so she didn’t escape, but man…he’s kinda ruining the whole atmosphere so she decided to walk toward him.
“Cloud! Why are you doing so far?” Tifa spoke, her hand resting on her hips.
“I was ordered to watch from afar.” Cloud responds professionally.
Tifa let out a soft sigh at his stiff reply. Then, without another word, she reached out and gently took his hand in hers. The sudden contact made Cloud freeze for a split second, his fingers stiff in her grasp before slowly, uncertainly, curling back around hers. His palm was warm in a way that made her chest tighten.
“There,” she said lightly, giving his hand a small tug. “Now you physically can’t watch from afar.”
Cloud blinked, clearly caught off guard. “L-Lady Tifa—this is highly impractical–”
“You’re my bodyguard, right?” she teased, glancing up at him with a small, daring smile. “Then guarding me up close makes more sense.”
For a moment, he didn’t argue. His grip adjusted carefully around her hand, hesitant, as if he was afraid of holding too tightly. Then, carefully, he lifted his free arm to shield her from the press of passing bodies. The gesture was subtle, but it made her heart ache in a way she didn’t expect.
Because suddenly, she couldn’t stop thinking about next week. About the groom’s clan. About how everything might change the moment she stepped into their estate. If this was one of the last nights she could walk with him like this, then she would treasure every second of it.
Together, they stepped into the heart of the festival. The noise grew louder, laughter brushing past them like waves as lantern light shone across their faces.
But they didn’t get very far before Tifa’s attention was stolen by a nearby stall glowing with warm yellow light. Steam curled into the air as the vendor flipped skewers over a sizzling grill.
“Oooh—takoyaki!” she said instantly, her eyes lighting up. Before Cloud could protest, she was already pulling him toward the stall.
Moments later, she held a little paper tray filled with golden, sauce-drenched bites. The smell was irresistible. She lifted one with a small wooden pick and took a bite, immediately making a pleased little sound. “Mmm…so good!”
Cloud watched her reaction in quiet confusion. “...is it safe?”
She stared at him. “Cloud. It’s food.”
Still hesitating, he took one carefully, as if the takoyaki would explode. He inspected it once, then finally took a bite. His eyes widened just the tiniest bit.
“...It’s good,” he admitted.
Tifa laughed, bright and delighted. “See? You worry too much.” Without thinking, she picked up another piece and held it up to him. “Here–try this one too!”
Cloud paused.
For a fleeting second, a memory surfaced between them, two kids sitting on one of the estate walkways, admiring the garden. Just two kids happily splitting a simple skewer.
Now, he leaned down and took a bite from the pick she was holding.
That was when she noticed it. How close his face was. How the lantern light softened the soft face she had grown up with. How different he looked now, no longer just the quiet boy who followed her as a child, but someone taller, broader, and sharper looking. Their fingers brushed as he took the food, warm against her.
And suddenly, inexplicably, her heart stumbled. For the first time, she became painfully aware that they weren’t children anymore.
Cloud straightened quickly, ears faintly pink. “...Thank you.”
“Y-Yeah! Anyway, we should get going now—the firework show’s about to start!” Tifa said quickly, turning away before he could read too much into her tone.
Cloud nodded once. “Understood.”
She laughed softly at how serious he sounded, then tugged him gently through the thinning crowd as people began drifting toward the open field beyond the stall. The noise of the festival slowly softened behind them, replaced by the brushing of grass beneath their feet and the low murmur of voices settling in for the show.
They found a spot near the middle of the field where the view of the sky was wide and clear. Lantern light still reached them in faint golden ripples, but above, the night stretched deep and dark, waiting.
Tifa sat down first, smoothing her yukata over her knees. Cloud followed a second later, settling beside her with careful distance.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The breeze was cool against her skin, carrying faint echoes of laughter and music from far behind them. Somewhere nearby, a child giggled. Someone else set off a small sparkler, its light flickering briefly against the darkness.
Tifa shifted slightly, then glanced sideways at Cloud. “You…don’t really usually come to festivals, do you?”
“You’re really tense,” she said quietly.
“I’m alert,” Cloud corrected.
She smiled faintly. “You have to loosen up a bit and enjoy the moment.”
Cloud didn’t answer.
“That’s an order!” She spoke teasingly.
Cloud hesitated. Then slowly, he let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “...Understood,” he said, shifting just enough to ease his shoulder. Not relaxed, but less stiff than before.
Tifa smiled, satisfied.
As the sky darkened further, distant drums rolled once….slow and deep.
Tifa’s breath caught. “It’s starting…”
The first firework shot into the sky with a sharp whistle, then bloomed into brilliant white light in the sky.
She gasped softly.
Gold and red spilled across the heavens, lighting the field, the faces around them, the wide reflection in her eyes. Another followed. Then another. The sky filled with color and sound, each explosion echoing in her chest.
Without realizing it, she leaned just a little closer to Cloud.
He noticed. His arm tensed—but he didn’t move away.
Fireworks reflected in his eyes, too, sharp and bright against the dark. For a moment, Tifa forgot everything else. The clan. The marriage. The future is waiting for her like an unopened door.
Then the thought returned.
Quiet. Heavy.
The next week.
The groom’s clan.
Everything changing.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve as the fireworks boomed on. And before she could stop herself, the words slipped out from her mind.
“Hey… Cloud?”
He turned to her instantly. “Yes?”
She hesitated, watching the sky light up. “Promise me one thing.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”
Her voice softened. “Even if I get married… promise you’ll come to rescue me if I’m in trouble.”
The fireworks thundered overhead, painting her face in trembling gold and red as she finally turned to look at him.
Cloud stared at her.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to go completely silent beneath the roar of the sky.
Then, slowly, gently, he nodded.
“I promise.”
Another firework burst overhead, brighter than the rest, and for just one fragile moment, sitting side by side beneath the burning sky, it almost felt like the promise was enough.