Tifa has always loved chocobos. The first time she saw one was when her father took her through the mountain caves as a child. She spotted a large black bird on one of the cliffs, making a weird noise that spooked her at the start. But her father explained that it was a breed of chocobo, an animal that usually lives in all different parts of the wild.  Ever since then, she was fascinated with them.

Black ones were the most common near Nibelheim, due to the mountainous terrain, though she would spot a green one now and then, as well as yellow breeds. Since chocobos were the main source of transportation around the town and surrounding areas, Tifa got acquainted with many that were housed in the stables by her home. Her first owned chocobo was black (and a bit of a runt) that her parents bred for her when she was a young girl. His name was Kurone and they were the best of friends for much of her young life. She did her best to spoil him rotten when her father wasn’t looking, sneaking him leftovers after dinner and napping with him in his stable whenever she could.

Unfortunately, Kurone was one of the fallen from the fires set forth by Sephiroth. It devastated her, knowing that not even her pet and companion survived the blaze. After leaving her home and moving to Midgar, she made a vow to become a chocobo breeder, so she could make up for the tragedy of what her precious Kurone and his family went through.

Luckily for her, Cloud was also interested in breeding chocobos. After the final fight with Sephiroth, he built a stable behind the new and improved Seventh Heaven in Edge. It was large enough to house up to five chocobos at a time, and it became a side business for the duo—breed different forms of chocobos and sell them to good owners.

Tifa has an incredible knack for understanding the large birds. She can easily tell how they are feeling, and sometimes what they’re even thinking! Her compassion for the animals draw them to her, and she has little difficulty capturing them out in the wild. The barmaid is also an excellent Chocobo rider, though she refuses to race them. To this day, she prefers black chocobos over any other breed, and will sometimes use her free time to relax with whichever ones she houses in the stable. She will also take them out to enjoy the sunlight on occasion, spoiling them with greens as often as she can.

Have I told you lately how much I’ve missed you?

That I wish, with every number I dial, every ring that echoes, that I will hear your voice?

It’s silly, I know, to harbor such fleeting thoughts, but I also wonder if knowing this would ever change your perceptions of me.

Life is but a series of exchanges, I was once told. Some are good, some are bad. Some can change your life, while others can crush you.

All that you can control is how you handle these exchanges. How you allow them to influence you. I used to think of it in terms of fighting. Breathing, calculating the odds, predicting movements and expectations.

But, as hard as I try to dictate my life under the disciplines that my mentor taught me over the years, I simply cannot do it with you and me. We don’t fit those molds. Those odds. You’re an enigma all your own.

I can never know how it feels, to experience what you have. I will never understand your craving for solitude. All I can do it live my life, waiting for the day that you decide to you can trust yourself. Trust in what we have as friends. As caregivers. As protectors.

Maybe, one day, you’ll trust yourself to see that you’re deserving of love. Hopefully, you will allow me to be there to give it to you.

Why won’t she stop crying?!

She was frantic as she tried to figure out what to do. The tears were streaming like small rivers down the child’s face as she sobbed endlessly into her pillow. No one else was around; they were off getting supplies for the next mission. It was her fist time alone with the girl; she didn’t know much about kids, either. In all honestly, she was still a kid herself. Her hands grew tense as she furrowed her brows in deep thought while leaning against the doorframe of the small girl’s room.

I tried asking her what was wrong, and she refused to talk to me. I tried to hold her and she screamed for me to let her go. Is she upset that Barret isn’t here? But shouldn’t she be used to that?

“Mama…” the little girl with auburn curls choked through her sobs. The teenager’s head whipped around to look at her with a sudden shocked gaze.

It clicked then. Marlene was missing her mother. A mother she never knew. Never got to hold. Never got to kiss or laugh or cry with. She had to be so lonely when her father wasn’t around. He was her only real link to family. To stability.  Tifa understood those feelings too well, and her heart began to slither down into her gut. For Marlene, it was worse. Tifa at least got to know her mother before she lost her. What was it like to never know your own mother?

Her muscles relaxed while her hands uncurled from being fists at her side. And a small, simple idea grew in her mind. Then, a gentle sound hummed from her throat. It was quiet at first, and sounded almost sad. Marlene continued to cry, ignoring Tifa’s presence. The melody grew louder as Tifa grew more confident and bold, approaching the tiny bunk of a bed.  Her lips parted enough for the song to be more easily audible. The sounds seemed to calm the child down, as her sobs softened and her body stopped shaking.

Her round eyes darted towards Tifa as she sat on the edge of the bed, continuing to sing. Marlene looked curious, and she started to crawl over, rubbing her reddening irises and sniffling. Tifa continued to sing for a little longer before stopping, glancing down at the girl with a loving gaze. “That was a song my mother used to sing to me when I was scared.”

“It was pwetty…” Marlene replied, still a little cold.

“I was very little when I lost my Mama. Not having her around when you’re lonely can be hard and very scary.” She spoke calmly, hoping the girl would understand. “She taught me that song when I was around your age, telling me that I should sing it whenever I missed her, and it would be like she was there with me.” Tifa paused as she felt a small hand at her arm. Turning her face and glancing down at the wet face of the toddler, she smiled warmly. “Would you like me to teach it to you, so you’re not so scared?”

Marlene was quiet for a moment; her nose wrinkled up as she thought hard. Slowly, she nodded her head. “Okay.”

That night, they sang. They sang and they cried. It was the first time Tifa ever felt the trust of a child, and knew that she could take care of Marlene like Barret had asked. All because of a song she learned when she was little. 

Who knew that it would be so possibly to give up so much for a single person. For a single reckoning. A single dream. For the young and blossoming barmaid, it made perfect sense at the time. It was easy to give up everything, when you had nothing to begin with. Seeing those foggy blue eyes that stuck out like pillars of ice against bloody and bruised flesh caused an explosion of emotion.

It hit her like a hard swing to the jaw from her old sensei, in those moments. Calling out his name, with him to only look at her like she was a ghost. Someone he didn’t even know. It hurt her heart. She decided, as she desperately tried to lift up his battered body, that she was going to do all she could for him. Whatever happened, it was ShinRa’s fault. Somehow Tifa just knew it. The uniform he wore said it all; the blade covered in blood and insignia on the worn leather. Deep down, her hatred for the company grew, and she used it to fuel her resolve.

So much had happened since that day. The day she decided to give up everything for him. For the cause. For the planet. Any chance at a normal life had been long since stripped away from her eyes.

Even now, with the arrangements made for her new life in the city of Edge, she knew that she was still giving up much of her life. Not that she regretted it—quite the opposite, She had two wonderful young souls that depended on her. Looked up to her and cherished her like a mother. And in some ways, she really was. Yet, on the days where it was quiet, while they were in the streets playing, while the bar was silent and absent of patrons, she found herself clinging to the past. Thinking on those days where she dreamed. Hoped. Prayed to the lifestream for guidance and relief. But most of all, she prayed for him.

Many would comment on what her life was as they travelled through Seventh Heaven. What they knew of her fame, of her caring nature, her friendship to the other saviors of the planet. Compliments abound with how great she was, how powerful she was, how she could do whatever she wanted. Although, even with all of that, she knew and understood that it wouldn’t be the case in reality. She had responsibilities now, a reputation and a business to uphold. Lives to watch over.

To many who knew her, she was like a martyr for helping others. She gave up her dream to be an explorer of Gaia, to travel the sights and see what the planet had to offer. Instead, she spent her days helping those right at home. To her friends, she was a bit foolish for devoting so much time towards a seemingly hopeless cause. But she never saw it that way. Her heart knew differently.

One day, she just knew, that her sacrifices would be worth it in the end.

Waiting was one of the worst things in the world.

Not knowing if they would return. Not knowing what you were going to face. Not knowing if the sun would come up for another day. If you made one single mistake, could it result in the end of all things? Did you see everything you wanted to? Say everything you felt you needed to? Eat all the foods you loved? Dream your favorite dreams?

Too many thoughts plagued her as she sat on that rock beside Cloud, listening to the silence of the mountains surrounding them. As she dozed off, she listened to the racing thrum of her heart as it pounded against her ribcage. It was a steady rhythm; almost melodic as it sang her feelings and fears with each movement. She could smell the world on his shoulder.  The earth combined with a hint of pine and berry. A tangy nip of cider as well wafted her way from his uniform. He had to be feeling much worse than she was. Even his arm was tense as she sighed softly to herself, allowing her hair to cover her face while the sunlight disappeared over the frosty horizon.

She had a feeling that the others would return. They had to. They were all in this together, weren’t they? Why give up when they were so close to the end? Fate awaited them within that crater. A fate that brought them all together. This was meant to be. They were meant to meet and fight. Perhaps they were meant to save the world, too. But thinking about that came with pressure. And with pressure, came a single, relentless, and horrifying question.

Would there be a tomorrow?

If there isn’t, then at least I can spend my last night with the one I care about most.

“…it’s really pretty, isn’t it?”

It had been one of the best and one of the scariest nights ever for the barmaid. Sitting there, in that gondola ride, adrift in the night sky among thousands of small stars and lights that made everything glow…it was something magical. Something special. It had come at a time where everything was coming to a head. Figuring out what Sephiroth was really up to, with rumors of a black material, and those strangers shrouded in black…

Yet of course, while she was with the blond, she felt completely safe. She still worried about his welfare…how he couldn’t remember everything the way she had in the past made her deeply concerned. And how he was treating Aerith so delicately…like she herself was a flower….it cut right through her own heart. Would she say anything? Never. Her own insecurities ate away at her enough, and bringing them up out of nowhere would only make things worse.

Aerith would be able to just come out and say it, probably.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous of the flower maiden. There was a way that she lit up a room when she entered. A way that the girl made everyone feel at ease. At peace. That was gift that the barmaid would never have. Those emerald eyes captivated all who looked at them, including Cloud. It hurt…so badly sometimes that she would want to cry herself to sleep at night. Why couldn’t she captivate someone? But Aerith was also her dearest friend, so having such ill feelings toward her made her feel awful.

Sometimes being old friends is hard.

On that ride, everything seemed to culminate. While floating in mid-air, watching how the fireworks sparkled against the night, sprouting like blooming buds in springtime…the small yet extravagant explosions mimicked how her feelings were exploding inside her heart. Every second that passed by was bringing her closer and closer to admitting the truth…yet when she found herself gazing into the ice-blue eyes of the young man in front of her, she froze up.

Timing is everything.

Unfortunately, the time for her to utter the words she so desperately wanted to say ran out. And before too long, the ride was over. As they exited, Tifa glanced back up at the night sky, watching adoringly as more explosions set off overhead. As the mixtures of whites and golds danced along the fog, she smiled a little to herself. Maybe right now wasn’t the best time to admit her years-long confession. Maybe it was best to just enjoy the peace they had right now. In this moment. Together. What more could she really ask for, anyway? Surely, there would come a better moment for her to talk to him. So instead, the barmaid turned to the ex-soldier, smiling innocently while he joined her side in front of the ride.

“Cloud, I really had fun tonight.”

Tender to the touch.

After a decade, it still felt as fresh as the day it was made. The thick aroma of steel and iron resonated within her nostrils at the memory. Feeling the penetration of blade as it seared through leather, cotton, and soft flesh. Like none of it existed. It slid right through muscle and tissue, nearly severing bone. Wincing, she knew that it would have if it was so desired.

It began above her left breast before flowing diagonally between them, ending along the side of her right one. The skin there was still fragile, feeling more charred than healed. Any semblance to the rest of her milky white flesh was lost on this portion.

Forever marked. Forever reminded.

How odd it was that memory or mention could revitalize the pain. Any thought given to its creator made it ache. Burn. Throb with the agony of its formation. So many nightmares stemmed from this one single mark. Certain things would fade in time. Memories could be replaced. Forsaken. But not this. Never this. No matter how much she could work towards forgetting or ignoring…this would remain.

There would never be a time where she could undress and not see it. Never a time where she would look at her reflection without staring at it. Never a time when a stranger wouldn’t ask how she got it. Within her very own flesh, the creator had gained what he threatened with. Curtailing her of any chance at distancing herself from it.

I will never be a memory.

Squint your eyes until you can see wrinkles. Bend your knees until you can feel the pull in your heels. One shallow breath. Then…spring up!

“Come on. Hit a little harder. You almost got it…”

Damnit. Concentrate.

Lower your gaze, focusing on the point of attack. Draw three deep breaths then go!

“Kyah!”

Don’t use all your strength at once. Thrust it at all at the desired point, and then bring it back swiftly.

“Yes! That’s what I’m looking for!”

Finally!

She huffed some, retracting her hand with a soft smile on her young face. Sweat rolled down her brow, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand before bowing.

“Great…glad I got that down…” she said in relief.

“It’s not going to be easy, but you’re learning very quickly. Better than most of my other students,” the older gentleman said with a smirk behind his silver beard. Smirking a bit, the teen slammed her fist into her other hand with a nod.

“I won’t disappoint you, Sensei Zangan.”

Shaking his head, the master ruffled the girl’s hair with a bellowing laugh that echoed throughout the training room.

“It’s not about impressing me. All of this is for your benefit, not mine. The key to being a good fighter lies in here.” He motioned towards her head with his hand. “And here.” Lowering his hand to her chest, where her heart was pounding. “It’s about discipline and respecting the art of movements. Not just about beating your opponent.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed for not understanding completely beforehand, she blushed. “Right, I’m sorry.”

With a deep groan, Zangan flung one of his arms off to the side, causing his trademark leather-skinned cape to flutter at his back. “Nah, don’t give me that, Lockhart. It’s all part of the process. You’ve only been studying under me for a month; don’t expect yerself to be an expert just yet!” He grinned then, wrapping his large arm around the brunette’s shoulder and leading her out of his dojo. “How about we go to the diner and get some sandwiches before part two of your training?”

Glancing up at him, she smiled with a nod. “Sounds like a plan to me!” The two made their way across town, hitting up the local diner for some lunch. As she sat across the small table from her teacher, the brunette couldn’t help but ruminate on his words.

“It’s about discipline and respecting the art of movements. Not just about beating your opponent.”

Those words would stay with her for the rest of her life.

“What do you think Cloud does for fun, Tifa?”

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Murmurs carried through the thin steel plates underneath her thighs. Words meant to be whispers, yet were spoken outright. They made her lower her face into her hands as they wrapped around her knees, creating a shell-like disposition.

“You gotta stay, Spikey! Don’tcha care ‘bout the planet?!”

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“I think Aerith looked forward to tomorrow and the future more than anyone…she must’ve had many many dreams…”

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Fleeting voices along the dismal air. Screams lost. The crude smell of oil, stone, and blood still hung heavy in her memory. Watching as everything fell. Destroyed. Forgotten. Sure, there were memorials for survivors of many things. Meteor, explosions, Sephiroth. But what about those nameless faces that perished? And three particular friends that deserved so much more than they were given. Buried underneath the hatred of ShinRa. Their deaths falling into the hands of the group they worked so hard for. Devoted everything to.

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Come on, Lockhart. You can do this.

Just.

Sit.

Down.

The cumbersome gesture was really quite a simple one. Yet something deep down, buried beneath all the smiles and promises inside her heart blocked her from taking that step. Her crimson hues could only focus on her hand. Bare and pale and trembling as the pads of her fingertips grazed along the sleek ivory. It was chilly and smooth. It was preposterous to imagine that it could be so difficult.

Yet, as a wall of her thick hair descended over her shoulders, the barmaid’s frame refused to move. There was a definitive pain in her chest which reverberated throughout her body as her eyes bore holes into the wood. It was beautiful, actually. Small floral prints etched into pure oak and cedar. Curling at the top, twisting and turning into the shape of a gardenia. She could almost smell the beautiful flower as her breathing grew shallow and faint.

Just sit down.

It had been far too many years. At least a decade since her fingers last touch something of such grandiose beauty. Something of her innocence, which was lost in the flames of her childhood. When she turned her back on that awful place, she turned her back on something that had given her incredible joy as a young girl. Something that bound her to her heritage. Her mother.

Today, however, was a new day. And Tifa decided that it was time for a change. For remembrance and appreciating a gift she had that very few people knew about. For who would imagine that a simple barmaid in the middle of a polluted city could create audible masterpieces?

A shaken sigh coursed past her chapping lips as she gulped down hard.

In order to move forward, I need to work past this.

The memories were vast and painful as she slowly lowered herself onto the small bench seat, which was covered in mauve crushed velvet. Her other hand sat above a few more pieces of ivory, and she closed her eyes. Flashes of her mother’s smile and lectures on how to sit in the correct posture. To savior the echoes of each and every stroke. Not to apply too much pressure. To breathe rhythmically and to know just when to turn each page. Pacing and timing were important.

The first few notes sounded foreign. Like a memory on the breeze that had been long forgotten. But it did not take long for her hands to reacquaint themselves with a cherished old friend. Then, as chords came to mind, her hands were at swift work, creating a melody that was reminiscent of the first song her mother ever hummed to her. It was the first song her mother taught her. The song that gave her hope that life would be everything she would want it to be. It was the song she performed at the memorial service. The last song she would ever play.

Tears flowed freely down, like warm streams down her cheeks. A few spilled over the keys, yet they were ignored as Tifa started to smile, feeling something bubble up from the pit of her stomach. A warmth that she had not felt in over a decade. There was a fleeting sensation in her mind as all the worries that convoluted her thinking until this point seemed to evaporate with each passing swell of music. She was eight years old again, performing alongside her mother on a warm summer day in the corner of her bedroom. Perhaps not all innocence was lost, after all.

There was a sweet crescendo at the end of the melody, before it faded away. Her hands continued to tremble, but before she could tell them to still, she heard clapping.

“That was really wonderful, Ma’am. You sound like a proooo-fessional,” an older  gentleman complimented as he wobbled over to her side, leaning on a cane that was worn down at his left side. Drawing in a deep breath, the barmaid smiled his way.

“Thank you.”

“So,” he said with a smirk, tapping the corner of the instrument with his cane. “You want it?”

Returning her gaze to her hands, which now lulled down to comfort over the keys, she nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I do. How much is it?”

“You kiddin’? No way I’m gonna sell it to ya! If you can play like that, you deserve it fer free!”

Tifa gasped, staring at the store owner in shock. Something like this cost thousands of gil! Why would anyone just give it away?

“Tch, yer Tifa Lockhart, ain’t ya? If I sold it to ya, I’d feel terrible, what with all ya done for us. Trust me, it’s a lot less than what I’d wanna give ya for saving everything.”

Tifa opened her mouth to protest once more, but understood what the old man was saying. And she could see in his coal-black eyes that he wouldn’t budge from his offer.

“Alright then, since you insist. Thank you…I cannot tell you how much this means to me…” Standing up, her hands ran along the keys once more longingly while he spoke to her about how it’ll be delivered to Seventh Heaven.

You’ve given me a part of my life back.

Thank you.

Did she ever see herself like this so many years ago?

Probably not.

But it was such a wonderful thing. Knowing that two younger souls looked up to her for guidance. For care. And she would do absolutely anything for them. They felt like her own children, even if Marlene loved her father more than anything.

Denzel was so lost when they met. Being alone for so long, terrified and starved. It was a miracle that he survived as long as he did on his own. It made her heart swell at the thought that now he could look at her almost like a mother. She wanted to make him smile more. It looked adorable on him. Especially now that the geostigma was gone. He could be healthy. Happy.

Never before did she think she had the ability to do what she did. Not that she disliked children. Never that. But she didn’t think she would be taking care of any like this. It made her wonder if she ever would have children of her own. That was yet to be seen. Things were still healing after Sephiroth’s chaos. And there were more important matters at hand, really.

Seeing their faces when she checked in on them late at night, however, made her smile more than anything else during the day. Knowing they were safe and sound. Well-fed and taken care of.

Loved.

Something to truly be cherished. Those two. They gave her a purpose. And she wouldn’t change that for the world.