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“Say, do you remember a guy named Emilio? From Nibelheim?”
“Only person from the village I remember is you.”
“Huh? Oh... Okay then. …His family owned the general store.”
“Right…”
“Anyway, he left the village right before you did. Thought I’d never see him again, then one day last year, he shows up at Seventh Heaven. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was all...grown up. Didn’t even recognize him at first.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and what’s more, the woman who walked in with him was stunning—like, she could’ve been a model, and... You’re not interested, are you?”
“Not really...But I’m happy to listen, so go ahead.”
“It’s okay. Forget it.”
“Was this another test?”
“No, it wasn’t. I...” She sighs. “Why deny it? I guess it was, huh? ...I’m sorry.”
Aerith sat on the bed, hair down around her shoulders. She could feel a bit of a headache after their day of travel, with her signature pink ribbon fixed neatly in place the whole time. The price of looking cute, she supposed.
They’d been on the road long enough that she had gotten used to the open sky. But it was still a bit comforting to be here in Junon, the sky safely obscured by a plate of steel. Not that she would say that aloud to the bitter villagers who’d generously offered them rooms at a discount—individual rooms, even. Though it had also been nice sharing a room back in Kalm.
Idly she rolled the sphere back and forth between her hands, the last gift her original mother had left her. She always kept it close, always kept it hidden. It was possible even the Turks didn’t know about it. And for what? It wasn’t like any other materia, the normal ones people used for health and craft and protection. It just…was.
Why was she still hanging on to this thing? Would she ever know?
A knock. With a sigh, she carefully tied the glassy orb back up in her ribbon, and stood to open the door, already knowing who it was.
“Hey.” The man stood in her doorway, blond hair sticking up as always. The ever-present sword could have been off-putting, but instead she found it a comforting constant.
“Hey.” Her voice was light, compared to his, and yet she still felt off somehow, the flirty Hey yourself catching in her throat.
There was a pause, and Aerith’s heart twisted. She could see how fragile he was, the pieces reassembled but not yet fixed in place. But still he came to see her, without even a reason in mind.
“Come in,” she said finally, stepping back towards the bed. He followed, leaving the door ajar behind him.
So much had happened, all of a sudden, years of change in only a handful of days. She had known her peaceful life in Sector 5 wouldn’t last forever, not with Shinra literally hanging over her head, but she could never have predicted…this. A terrorist splinter cell leader, who was also a father and a sweetheart. A martial artist, who was also a rather attractive bartender. A…whatever Nanaki was. And…a SOLDIER.
He wasn’t his normal self. That was all too clear to Aerith, afflicted with her own pressures and mental static…she recognized it in him. At least she knew the cause of hers.
But she couldn’t ask about any of that. It was a miracle how much he had talked in Kalm, despite being so mixed up. She had seen how further prying made him freeze up, close off…sending him back to the trauma that had broken him in the first place. She wanted so badly to talk to him.
Where were you?
What happened?
Did you miss me?
“I wonder how Mom and Marlene are doing,” she said instead. A safe topic, except once she said it she realized she wasn’t likely to see them again for quite some time. It wasn’t like they could just call or send a letter either.
“Homesick?” he replied. His equipment clinked softly as he shifted in place, a touch of concern coming through his stoic features.
So he had noticed something was off. Well, she couldn’t deny it, but…that was only a piece of it. A piece of Aerith. Only so many pieces of Aerith…
“No time for that, not with Sephiroth around,” she said, fooling neither of them. As if that was how homesickness worked. As if a girl who had never been more than a few kilometers from home knew how homesickness worked. As if losing your mother wasn’t already an affliction of permanent homesickness.
“So, a little random, but do you remember the first time we met?”
She hadn’t meant to say that. Too much pressure, and he’d come apart, like a house of cards, like a groundquake. She was sure of it, and it worried her. But the words were out there, now.
His eyes flickered, those striking mako eyes. “The church, right?”
Her breath caught. Was he remembering? Did he remember her after all? She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Aerith?”
He loves me, he loves me not…
“Aerith?”
Because fate was funny like that, wasn’t it? Could you get a more direct sign than crashing into her life in the exact same way? She might not be much of an Ancient, but even she could take a hint, even four years later.
“Aerith!”
“Hm?” She looked back at him.
He pressed his lips together momentarily. “You should try to get some rest. This is probably the best accommodations we’ll see for a while.”
The voice wasn’t right, not yet. But the words were his, and the concern in his eyes was touching. She smiled. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“Heh.” He was doing better, responding to her jokes again. Maybe that would continue as they got further away from Midgar, as they headed back towards his home continent. Further from hers, sure, but wasn’t that how her whole life had gone? First the lab, then the slums, and now the entire eastern continent she was leaving behind. And she couldn’t deny it was exhilarating, even amidst all the danger.
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. She nodded and stepped forward, walking him to the door. “Night, Aerith.”
“…Good night, Zack.”
She thought she heard his steps slow for a moment, but she couldn’t be sure. She closed the door and sighed.
Mako might come from the planet, but that didn’t mean it was safe, or even well-understood. Having grown up in a laboratory, she knew full well what kinds of horrors Shinra might subject people to, heedless of any detrimental effects to their test subjects. That meant she would probably never get an explanation for what happened in those five years. It’s not like he would understand it himself, how he had ended up in the form of this blond-haired mercenary.
“Sorry, Tifa,” she mouthed to herself. The other woman seemed to be searching for whoever this man…used to be. But even though he was broken, changed, unaware, traumatized…Aerith was sure. She knew the person who looked out of those eyes. And she was going to be there to help him heal.
It had taken four years, but he had kept his promise in the end.