Chapter Text
Morning in Sector 5 always comes slowly, as if to ensure that every resident has enough time to wake up without rushing. Sunlight creeps through the cracks in the old, mostly newly repaired buildings, casting a golden hue on the cobblestone streets still damp with the night's dew. And in the midst of this neighborhood learning to live again, stands a small building with a wooden sign that reads:
“Gainsborough–Strife Flowers.”
The shop wasn't open yet. The wooden windows were still partially closed, but from inside, the smell of damp earth and the fragrance of freshly watered flowers was beginning to waft through the air. The faint sound of pots and buckets scraping against each other could be heard, punctuated by a soft, low hum—a rhythm that indicated the occupants had been awake for a few minutes.
Aerith always wakes up first.
She was tidying up the small shelves near the window as her brown hair fell to her shoulders. Her fingers brushed the light green leaves almost like the face of a sleeping child. There was a certain warmth in the way she tended the plants; something that seemed to be an extension of herself. The flowers flourished, as if understanding that their caretaker was someone who looked at the world with hopeful eyes.
“Morning…” A low, slightly hoarse voice came from the direction of the kitchen.
Aerith smiled without looking back. "Morning, Cloud."
Cloud appeared with tousled blond hair and a characteristic expression: a mix of “awake but not quite awake” and “I don’t know why I’m in this world, but I’m just going with it.” He was carrying two cups of tea, walking slowly and carefully so as not to spill either one.
He placed the cup on Aerith's desk. “The tea is still hot.”
“As always. Thank you.” Aerith took it with both hands, warming it in her palms.
Cloud nodded slightly, then sat down on a wooden chair near the side door. The old clock ticked softly, accentuating the comfortable silence that surrounded them.
Silence is not emptiness.
It's the kind of silence that only two people who have long been accustomed to each other can experience.
Aerith glanced at Cloud out of the corner of her eye. “You look tired.”
Cloud shrugged slightly. “The wind was noisy last night.”
He paused. “Or maybe I just have trouble sleeping.”
Aerith put down her cup and approached him silently. “Another nightmare?”
Cloud lowered his head. There was a long pause before he shook his head. “It wasn’t a nightmare… just… a loud noise. For some reason, I felt like I had to wake up.”
Aerith said nothing for a moment. She knew Cloud hadn't mentioned the details, but she recognized the gesture—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the subtle clenching of his hands, and the way he averted his gaze. Traces of war that hadn't faded even after a year.
So he patted Cloud's head gently.
Cloud blinked, clearly unprepared.
“I’m alive, Cloud,” she said softly. “You don’t need to wake up to know that.”
The words came slowly—and Cloud, as usual, didn't know how to respond. His cheeks flushed faintly, a reaction he often tried unsuccessfully to hide whenever Aerith teased him.
“Y-yeah,” he mumbled softly. “I know.”
Aerith smiled slightly, then turned back to the flower rack. “What time do you start delivering today?”
“Just after nine o'clock,” Cloud replied. “There are six orders. Three small bouquets, two potted plants, and one large order from the celebration in Sector 1.”
Aerith giggled. “And that means the old bike will have to work overtime again.”
“…Hey.” Cloud snorted. “That bike has some pride.”
“That bike is about to explode, Cloud.”
Cloud fell silent. “…Just a little.”
Aerith laughed—a light laugh that filled the room with a warmth unlike sunlight. As Cloud stared at her, something in his face softened, something he had never shown before this little life they had built together.
The moment lasted only a few seconds before Aerith realized it and covered her face with a mischievous smile. “Are you looking at me?”
Cloud immediately looked down at the cup. “No.”
"Is it true?"
"Correct."
“Hm~?”
“…Aerith.”
“Hm?”
Cloud sighed, defeated. “A little.”
Aerith giggled in satisfaction. “I know.”
After a simple breakfast—toast, eggs, and tea—they opened the front door of the shop. The morning air rushed in, carrying the mineral scent of the long-dormant mako ruins, mixed with the scent of fresh flowers. Small children from the neighborhood were already waiting outside, some eager to see Aerith, others eager to see the new flowers that had bloomed that day.
“Good morning, Aerith!” shouted one of the children.
“Good morning!” Aerith replied with a wave. “Cloud’s here too, you know.”
The children turned around. "Morning, Uncle Cloud!"
Cloud stiffened. “N-no, uncle…”
Aerith held back a laugh as she whispered, “You do look like Uncle, Cloud.”
Cloud stared at him blankly. “I’m still young.”
“Then smile more often,” Aerith replied cheerfully. “You always look so gloomy.”
“That… my face is like this.”
Aerith glanced at him, as if to say: I know. And I still like him.
Cloud looked away, defeated again.
As nine o'clock approached, Cloud checked his motorcycle outside. The old engine growled softly as he tried to start it, like a large cat reluctantly waking from a long nap. Aerith, from the shop doorway, could only shake her head as she cradled her basket of flowers.
“If the motorbike explodes, I don't want to be blamed.”
“This bike won’t explode,” Cloud replied, lightly tapping the side of the engine. “As long as you don’t curse it.”
“I'm not cursing. I'm just being honest.”
Cloud stared at him for a long moment. “Too honest.”
"You married someone honest," Aerith replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah…” Cloud sighed, but he couldn’t hide the small smile that appeared on the corners of his lips. “I know.”
He put on his gloves, took the order list, then tied the flower box to the back of the motorbike.
Aerith approached, standing beside him. “Be careful on the road.”
Cloud looked at him. “Yeah. You too… watch the shop.”
“I always take care of him.”
"…I know."
Aerith smiled softly. “And Cloud.”
“Hm?”
“Come home before evening. I want to have dinner with you today.”
Cloud paused. Then he nodded, his voice softer than usual. “Okay.”
“Hmhm.” Aerith patted Cloud’s shoulder—lightly, but enough to send a warmth spreading through his chest. “Go.”
Cloud started the engine. The engine vibrated violently, emitting a distinctive, guttural sound. Aerith covered her ears and laughed.
“Sounds like you forced him out of a nap!”
Cloud simply raised his hand in farewell, then drove slowly down the main road of sector 5, leaving a thin trail of dust behind him.
Aerith stared at him until his figure and his motorcycle disappeared around the corner. The morning breeze ruffled her hair, and over the whistling wind, she whispered:
“Good work, Cloud.”
He returned to his shop. Flowers greeted him, and the day began—a seemingly simple day, but one that secretly carried a long story that would continue to grow from their small silences.
And from a small garden in the middle of a world that was once destroyed, a pair of new lives slowly bloomed again.