micasasolis

[micasasolis]

I used to be under control But I lost my mind for love Have mercy on me, come to me I have here So many words that don't want to come out

I already knew, you have become part of my life Giving me everything I wanted I already knew, that falling in love was not good for me. I already knew it, somehow I assumed it There was something that told me, but I never heard it

[micasasolis]

Tifa's dialogues in Japanese… be careful, if the affinity with Tifa is not high, there is no kiss.

[micasasolis]

ff7 rebirt quotes

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts pgs 150-208/208

“I’m strong when I'm determined. I worked hard selling those steamed buns, making money, saving it up, and paying back what I owed. On my days off, I trained and reviewed my martial arts. It wasn’t hard sticking to the same routine every day anymore.”

“In my opinion…” said Red XIII, “it suits your personality.”

“That’s right. I may have been attracted to a bustling lifestyle full of glamour and glitz, but what I actually craved was privacy and stability. Sure, there might not be a lot going on to spice things up, but to make up for that, bad things didn’t happen. I just took my showers, patted myself on the back and called it a day!”

“But the situation changed again.”

“How’d you guess?”

“I’m beginning to see a pattern here.”

※

Every few days, a young man would come to buy lunch. He would hang around for about a minute each time and watch over her with a gentle smile as she worked. Tifa recognized him as a regular.

“Happy 18th birthday,” said the young man.

“Huh?” Her hands automatically froze. “How did you—”

“Because you’ve already celebrated your 17th.”

That jogged her memory. He had to be one of the people at the Planetology movie screening that Jessie had brought her to see. Her pulse quickened.

“Tifa, what’s the matter?” said Uncle, his tone piercing. Sometimes, customers would turn up to talk and monopolize her time, wanting her all to themselves. Uncle must have mistaken the young man to be one of these men. She told him everything was okay, lowered her voice and asked the man, “Do you know Jessie? What about Biggs and Wedge? They were with me that day.”

The young man’s expression turned gloomy.

“Yeah. There are rumors floating around that those guys are in Avalanche, so I've been distancing myself from them. Not everyone who studies Planetology agrees with their ways.”

“Of course not.” She needed to play along.

“Are you looking for them?”

“We have a debt to settle.” She hoped to be forgiven for that small lie.

The young man appeared the next day and ordered steamed buns.

“About what we discussed yesterday. I made some inquiries from my friends. The owner of the Stargazer Heights apartments in Sector 7 might know something about them. She’s got connections.”

“You went through all that trouble to ask for me? Thank you!”

“I’d like a favor in return…”—The young man lowered his voice.—“Can I take a picture with you?”

“Of course!”

He handed his camera to another customer behind him and struck a pose. Tifa leaned forward over the food cart counter to fit inside the frame. Her smile came naturally.

“Just one more shot!”

He wasn’t finished speaking before Uncle shouted from the back, “Hey! I’m gonna charge for that!”

Then came Wednesday. Compared to Sector 8, Sector 7 appeared to be much more cluttered. The entire place looked like one big alleyway, and the dust—perhaps due to the lack of proper pavement in several places—was quite concerning.

Shops were lined up haphazardly along the road. Occasionally glancing up, she saw glimpses of the pillar that supported the Sector 7 plate. She checked for directions, and after asking people a few times, arrived at Stargazer Heights without getting too lost.

It was an old, two-story building lined with a row of doors in the common corridor outside. She noticed AC condenser units. Perhaps each room came equipped with an AC.  The rent’s guaranteed to be expensive here, thought Tifa to herself.

A thin, elderly woman stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the second floor. She looked over at Tifa, her mouth ajar.

“Why, if it isn’t Tifa!”

How many years had it been since they met? The woman was Marle, one of the patients hospitalized at Damini’s clinic.

“What are the odds! Why didn’t you come and see me sooner?”

“I didn’t know where you lived.”

“But you had my address, didn’t you? I gave it to, uh, what’s his face… The doctor’s son.”

Rakesh hadn’t told her anything. It couldn’t have possibly slipped his mind if he had been told. If that was the case, then he had never intended to let her know, had he?

“How is the wound on your chest?”

“Much better. But there's still some pain.”

“My back’s taking its sweet time to heal too, even though it’s been my pride and joy and once mesmerized numerous men. Anyway, where are you off to? I’m quite well known around these parts. Ask me anything.”

“Is this Stargazer Heights? I came to see the landlord who owns these apartments. I heard she has connections.”

“Why, that’s me!”

“Really?! You see, I’ve been searching for some people.”

“Who are you looking for? Tell me.”

“Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge.”

Marle narrowed her eyes. “Biggs and Wedge are in the Neighborhood Watch. Jessie’s a young girl who’s often with them.”

Bingo.

“They’re my friends. We hung out together last year, but I have no idea where they’ve gone now.”

Marle’s eyes were completely shut. She appeared to be thinking over something.

“How much do you know about that group?”

“You mean... Avalanche?” whispered Tifa.

“I understand. So? Do those guys know where to find you?”

“Yes. They came over a few times.”

“And have you considered their feelings—of those people who don’t want to meet you?”

“Yes. That’s why, even if we can’t see each other, all I want to know is if they're okay. I was about to give up on that, but I got some info that might lead me to them, and I just couldn’t pass it up! I wanted to give it one more shot before I really gave up.”

“Hmm. I’ll look into it. Do you have some time?”

“Yes. Until evening, at least.”

“Alright then. Come here.”

Marle gestured for her to come closer, gave detailed instructions on how to get to a bar owned by one of her acquaintances, and then asked her to wait there.

※

“And this is where another connection was formed. The name of the bar and restaurant was ‘Seventh Heaven’.”

※

The Seventh Heaven bar and restaurant was larger than she had imagined. The terrace alone, built one level above the ground, could accommodate four food carts. The interior could easily fit eight carts. If each sold 1,000 steamed buns in a day, then she could make 36,000 gil per day and pay off her debt in just a few days! Thinking about that brought a bitter smile to Tifa’s face.

She surveyed the interior once more. Wiping the food carts from her imagination, she realized the place was empty. In front of her, sat a glass of iced tea, white and cloudy. She noticed the chip in the glass too.

From the look of it, the person tending to the bar and restaurant was the old man who was by himself at the counter. His hair and mustache were pure white. He wore a neat grey suit with a necktie and seemed the very picture of a proper gentleman. But, the man had a terrible complexion; He was deathly pale.

She recalled his frail voice and how slowly he moved when handing over her drink; if any more customers were to come in, she doubted he’d be able to handle them. It was obvious why the place was empty—A pity for such a nice establishment.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Marle as she slipped into the seat opposite Tifa. She did not look like she would be ordering any drinks for herself.

“About finding your friends. I've made arrangements to let them know you're searching for them. They'll find out for sure. You can be certain of that. I guarantee it. But the rest is up to them. You can’t force them. Understood?”

“Yes.” Things hadn’t gone the way she expected, but she felt like this was a step forward in the right direction. “Thank you.”

“Now’s not a good time.” Marle spoke in hushed tones. “Things are shaky for those at the top in Avalanche. Shinra senses this and is continuing with the Avalanche hunt. Avalanche has had a series of their meetings shut down. Nobody can get a hold of them, and they seem to be breaking off into smaller groups. That’s why they’re easily getting squashed by Shinra.”

“I see…”

The image of Jessie who had escaped, blood dripping down her face, flashed in her mind. So that fiasco was still ongoing then?

“Oh right,” said Marle, as if something had popped into her mind. “Your message will reach your friends. Provided they’re still alive, of course. I’m sure that part’s obvious to you.”

Marle walked her to the train station to send her on her way home. Along the way, the topic of the deserted Seventh Heaven was brought up. Old Man Monty, who was tending to the counter, was the owner and manager. After selling cocktails at a food cart for ages, his dream was finally realized with the construction of the bar. Business was thriving when it first opened, but lately night-time operations had ceased.

“A charming bartender used to serve drinks there, but she quit. Set her sights on becoming a Shinra employee and moved to the top of the Plate. He’s been looking for a replacement, but he’s been having a hard time finding one. To make matters worse, Monty’s lost all his energy with his declining health. He's actually younger than he looks, you know. He and I are around the same age.”

Marle sighed.

“Is that bartender who quit the only person who knows how to make those cocktails?”

“Monty is a first-class bartender himself, but his elbows and shoulders are all worn-out. If we don't do something, that place is going to fall into the wrong hands. He still owes quite a bit of money to the carpenter who built the bar.”

“That’s a pity. It’s a nice place.”

“Right?”

Just a little further down and they would reach the train station. Marle stopped and seized her by the arms.

“Do you love money?” Her voice sounded hushed and secretive.

“I don’t know about love, but I need it.”

“Good answer.” Marle seemed satisfied. “Now, Tifa. When is your next day off? Want to come over again?”

“I have Wednesdays off… But why? What's going on?”

“I’d like your help at the Seventh Heaven. You can come every Wednesday.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll talk to Monty about it. Sounds interesting, don't you think?”

Actually it did. Besides, it seemed like it would be fun. It had been a while since she remembered what “having fun” felt like.

“It's your only day off. If you plan on resting, you should certainly do so. But I have to tell you this.” Marle lowered her voice. “What the former barkeep earned is supposedly eight times what you make doing sales.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

In the back of her mind she thought perhaps it was a mistake on her part to make an instant reply.

She had heard somewhere that when you have something to look forward to, your work becomes more fulfilling. Uncle was in high spirits since sales were doing well. What she needed was to rearrange her schedule so that Wednesdays would be free from morning until night.

On Wednesdays, she usually reviewed her lessons from the secret manuals all in one go, so what she would have to do was portion out and allot those exercises to other days instead. Now that the purpose of her training wasn’t simply to “kill time”, she had one less obligation to worry about.

Wednesday arrived. She hurried over to see Marle early in the morning, and the two headed to Seventh Heaven together.

Monty, elated to the point of overwhelming Tifa, told her he looked forward to her success. Apparently, he valued her two years of experience working at the food stall.

The restaurant would open at 11 am and serve lunch until 2 pm. There would be a daily special plate, and that would be the only dish served on the menu. Monty would handle the cooking. From 2 pm until 7 pm would be tea time. Drinks were coffee, black tea—hot and cold—and two types of juices. There would be cake and cookies too. Except for the coffee and tea, everything else would be purchased from other shops. Bar time is from 7 pm to midnight where they would serve drinks and simple snacks. Since the opening of the bar, their cocktails had been their pride and joy, but after the bartender had quit, they could no longer serve them.

“I have this pain in my elbows, you see, so I can’t shake a mixer,” said Monty.

“Aren’t there plenty of other cocktails that don’t need to be shaken?” said Marle.

“Marle, you know it’s not about that. A bartender who can’t even shake a cocktail shouldn’t be serving them. It’s a matter of principle.”

“Who cares about that when your bar is on the line? You’re a fool!”

“Excuse me…” Tifa interrupted with some hesitation. “What do you  mean by that? Shake what?”

Both Monty and Marle turned to Tifa, stunned.

On that same day, Tifa walked around the inside of the bar and on the terrace, waiting to serve customers until 8 pm as they had agreed.

"It's easy for dust to collect on the terrace tables, so make sure to check on them and wipe them clean,” said Marle.

Following Marle's instructions, Tifa went outside onto the terrace, and it was there that she felt the eyes of passersby on the road, in a little square in front of the bar, look over in her direction. No, not just passersby, but people in the surrounding shops and houses too.

“Tifa, your face looks too stiff.”

“I’m feeling a bit nervous. They’re watching me, aren’t they?”

“Of course they’re watching you. Who else would it be?”

It finally dawned on her. He must be using her to draw customers to the bar. The same way Uncle did. Alright then. If that was how it was going to be, then so be it. But what she didn’t like was the idea that that was the only thing people saw in her. She wanted to garner respect from Marle and Monty for her skills. It was no longer fun for her knowing that she was only being used for her looks.

“Excuse me, but…” She mustered up the boldness to speak up. “The lunch plate doesn’t look appetizing at all. I’m really sorry. I know I just started here today.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I’m aware of that myself. Something needs to be done.”

“I’m sure you can manage. And I’m sure Marle will give us some advice too.”

“I don’t want to owe her more than I already do, but it can’t be helped. Let’s bring it up to her next week.”

That week, what should have been a deserted bar and restaurant was jam-packed to her disbelief. Once it turned into bar time, Monty, persuaded and prodded by Marle, made cocktails at the counter. Tifa worked busily among the merry drunks.

At 8 pm, as specified, Monty paid her 1,000 gil.

“So much?!”

“That's roughly 50 percent of our sales so far. If you stay here until midnight, I’ll give you twice as much. Drinks brings in good profits.”

"Wow, that's great! But I’ll have to excuse myself for today. I have work tomorrow too."

"I hear you. I’ll be waiting for you next week then.”

After making arrangements with him, she was preparing to leave when Marle entered, her voice echoing in the bar, "Come on, Tifa! Time to go!"

The room became filled with groans and protests. Marle glanced over at Tifa and laughed unapologetically.

“I’ll be back next week! I look forward to working here at Seventh Heaven!”

Tifa bowed her head and walked out. It was a different kind of exaltation from what she felt after achieving the sales goal at the food stall. On top of that, the pay was 1,000 gil with the potential to be 2,000.

※

Beside her, Red XIII’s entire body shook.

“You’re laughing, aren’t you? You’re definitely laughing at me!”

“You’re just imagining things.”

Even his voice was trembling.

“If I didn’t pay back all that money, I’d still be trapped, okay? I couldn’t help it. But it sure does seem like money was the only thing on my mind at the time.”

“I heard someone say that chasing after gil can change a person.”

“That’s true. But in my case, I’d prefer to call it ‘growth’.”

※

Early in the morning on the next Wednesday, after she showered and returned to her container, Rakesh came over.

“Morning, Tifa! Heading out somewhere again today?”

“Umm, I made plans to see my friend.”

“Oh, so you made some friends.”

She struggled to answer him. Even if she really had had plans, was it necessary to tell Rakesh?

“Oh, sorry, sorry. You’re free to do anything you like. I mean, it’s your day off.”

“What was it you needed?”

“Manson’s getting worried. Worried that you might be working somewhere else. At least that’s the info he got.”

“Well, I’m not.” That might have come out too harsh. Lying made her tense up.

“Well, that’s fine. I'm just letting you know.”

“Okay.”

“You’re mine.” Rakesh looked like he was in pain. “I’m not actually saying that to you, alright? It’s just…you were placed under my supervision, so I have my own responsibilities.”

“I understand.”

When did Rakesh Orange start to become only a gloomy presence in her life? So was Manson who was always lurking behind him. Regardless of what type of person he was, she intended to pay back every last gil. It was a matter of stubbornness and pride. With the steamed bun business booming, it wasn’t hard on her. She and Uncle also had great teamwork. But if she could earn good income at the Seventh Heaven on top of that, perhaps she could get rid of her debt sooner?

However, an incident occurred at the Seventh Heaven.

“Monty collapsed at the end of last week. It was his heart,” Marle informed her.

“Huh?” Tifa felt like her own heart was being squeezed.

“They might have saved his life, but it won’t be easy for him to continue working in this business. Such a pity. He was so eager too.”

“I see…”

She recalled how his face lit up when he talked about doing the lunch set. Like a grandfather speaking about his own grandchild. The kind of eyes she saw plenty of times among the seniors in the Calisthenics Club. Perhaps the Seventh Heaven was like a grandchild to Monty, or perhaps…

“These past three days, I’ve been doing the best I could, but baked sweets, coffee and tea are the only things I know how to serve,” said Marle. “We’ll go with those items today. And no food. We’ll need to open at 11 am and close by 5 pm as well.”

“5 pm? Isn’t that too early?”

“Any later than that and the number of intoxicated customers will start to climb. Sorry, but I don't want to be around drunks. And you’re still a beginner yourself.”

Her plans came crashing down. The news made for a lacklustre morning. Despite that, she and Marle went ahead and got things ready, and then opened doors for business.

“Good grief! He’s here again!” Marle, who was behind the counter, had leaned over and was peering outside. “He’s been squatting down in that terrace seat every single day since the week before, idling over that one cup of coffee and a glass of juice for hours.”

She glanced through the window and noticed a large, dark-skinned man about to take his seat. Across from him was a little girl. Tifa couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her. The little girl struggled to climb into her chair. It didn’t look safe. The man, whom Tifa took to be her father, noticed the child, gathered her in his arms and hoisted her safely into her seat.

“They’re father and daughter. Barret and Marlene Wallace. Marlene says she’s ‘two yearth old’.”

“You asked her?”

“Well, I’m an old, meddlesome lady. You think I’d just stand around and not say a word? Oh, by the way, they’re both homeless. Come on. Go and take their orders.”

Their orders were, sure enough, one cup of coffee and a glass of juice. When she finished preparing the drinks and brought them over, Marlene told her “thank you” in a lovely, sweet voice. Tifa nodded slightly towards her. Barret, on the other hand, only slid his sunglasses up and glared at people.

An hour passed since then.

“We’re not getting any customers.”

Only two parties came, drank their coffee and hurriedly left. Last week’s crowd felt like a dream.

“In my estimation, there were at least five customers who were about to walk up the stairs. They were probably all after you though."

The time kept on ticking. Another hour and they would have to close shop.

“Marle, I don’t want to be like this, but it’s so hard not to be upset.”

“You’re talking about Barret, aren’t you? He keeps on scowling at people walking by. No wonder we’re losing customers.”

“There’s that, too. But I’m talking about that little girl—about Marlene. I feel sorry for her. If you go up close, you’ll see how dirty her clothes are! Don’t you feel bad for her?”

“Oh that…”

“Can’t we do something to help her…?”

“Tifa, you’re talking to a veteran at meddling. Can’t even count the number of times I’ve gotten myself into trouble by sticking my nose into other people’s business. So here’s a warning for you. Before you start interfering, decide ahead of time what your boundaries are first.”

“Boundaries...?”

“Take this drink over to that little girl. Tell her it’s on the house. That’s as far as I’m getting involved when it comes to those two. Smells like trouble to me.”

She started preparing the glass of juice with feelings of uncertainty in her heart. Boundaries. How far would she be willing to go to help the child? If she wasn’t going to help her all the way, then wouldn’t it be better to leave things alone? She placed a straw into the drink and carried it out onto the terrace.

“Tell them it’s almost time for us to close,” said Marle.

Two chairs were lined up together with Marlene curled up into a ball sound asleep on top. What a poor yet lovely little girl! She looked so small and tiny. Barret Wallace then leaned his entire body over the table and scowled out at the road, and it was at the moment she realized he was missing his right hand. His arm ended at the wrist and a dirty cloth was draped over it—the cloth fastened to his arm with a leather strap that was wound round and round over it.

Tifa became terrified. Mishaps. War. Violence. Blood splattering.

Barret noticed and looked at her. He removed his sunglasses revealing a pair of large eyes with surprisingly long lashes. Despite the atmosphere that radiated from his entire body, his eyes were charming. Alright. She would look only at his eyes while talking to him.

“This is for Marlene. It’s on the house.” She placed the glass down near Marlene, trying not to wake her. “Oh, and also I’m really sorry but we’ll be closing at 5 pm today.”

“You’re kidding?” Barret, taken by surprise, stared at her with a bewildered look on his face.

“No, I’m not kidding. Actually, due to circumstances, we won’t be serving any alcohol, so we’re taking a break from our nighttime business.”

“You’re kidding…”

“No, I’m not. I’m really sorry.”

“I heard you!” The man backed down easily, but the way he talked was so careless. It bothered her. She wanted to tell him off but suppressed the thought and left the table. When she put her hand on the door leading into the bar, her leather bracelet—a gift from Master Zangan on the last birthday she celebrated in Nibelheim—came into view. Emotions were to be controlled. She was supposed to look at it whenever she felt overwhelmed by her emotions.

Tifa wondered if she managed to keep her emotions in check earlier. However, could it be just an excuse for her not to do anything? Perhaps her archenemy wasn’t just that strong anger that made her forget reason but also her tendency to avoid trouble by taking only temporary measures or feigning sympathy. Ever since she was a child, she was easily influenced. Perhaps that was the reason why she had so many unwanted memories?

“I won’t lose,” she muttered to herself, and then returned to Barret’s table once more.

“What do you want? Still got an hour left, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do. But when time is up, where will you go? Where do you plan on taking Marlene?”

“…….”

“Where do you sleep everyday?”

“Different places.”

“Oh really? And do you have a change of clothes? She’s not wearing any socks. Does she even have any? And her shoes have holes in them.”

“You see plenty like us around the slums, don’t you?”

“Not to this point.”

“Well, at least we ain’t dead.”

Tifa slammed her hands on the table, giving even Barret a jolt.

“So it’s okay as long as you’re not dead? You need to do better than that! Get her washed up and put on some clean clothes for her. Doesn’t matter if they’re hand-me-downs.”

“Daddy…” The noise must have woken up Marlene. “Daddy, is she yelling at you?”

“No, uhh, yeah—Uh, no.”

“Please don’t be mad at Daddy.”

Marlene glanced up at Tifa with an expression full of sadness.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Tifa turned to Marlene and smiled.

Marlene shook her head from side to side and said, “Don’t yell.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thanks.” As she inclined her head, little flakes of dandruff fell from it. Tifa caught a whiff of her unwashed body odor. She couldn’t take it anymore and glared at Barret.

“After we close up shop, you’re both coming with me to Sector 8.”

“Huh?”

Marlene watched her with trepidation. Tifa turned toward Barret and lowered her voice. “When you’re here, you scare away all the customers.”

Barret, still dumbfounded, said, “Sorry about that. I mean it.”

“Please don’t yell at Daddy,” Marlene pleaded once more.

What kind of life had these two been leading up until now?

When she explained the situation to Marle, the woman gave her an expression that conveyed complete exasperation, and said, “I thought I warned you.”

“Yes. And I heard every single word.”

“Good grief! You’re worse than I am! Wait for me. I’ll be back in time to close up shop.”

She hadn’t been tending the shop for more than an hour before Marle returned, appearing on the terrace and calling out to Barret. The large man removed his sunglasses as he listened to Marle speak, and kept repeatedly thanking her. What was happening? Not long after, Marle led Barret and Marlene inside the bar.

“Monty’s room is in the basement. It’s a livable space. We’ll have Barret and his daughter use it. I’ve already gone to ask for his permission.”

“Who’s this Monty you all keep talking about?” asked Barret.

“He was working at the counter last week—The white-haired man.”

“That old fart?”

“Don’t be rude. He happens to own this place.” Barret ducked his head at Marle’s words. It was amusing watching every single one of his exaggerated movements. He might be a bit rough around the edges and inconsiderate as well, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy. “Monty’s been worried about Marlene since you first showed up.”

“Should go and shake his hand.”

Marle drew close to the corner wall, checked down at her feet, and then jumped lightly with thud! Then the floor, partitioned into squares, began to sink. It was an elevator.

“Wow!” cried Marlene, rushing over. Barret shouted for her to be careful, but panicking, gathered her into his arms.

“You guys should come too!” Marle's clear voice called from below. The floor partition rose back up again. Barret turned to Tifa. She nodded at him, and then went to stand on top of the elevator floor. Barret, with Marlene in his arms, lined up beside her.

“Daddy, are you gonna make it go BOOM?”

“Yeah.” Barret jumped up and stomped on the floor, and once the floor fell, the three of them descended. A section of the original floor passed in front of them, and they could see the basement. There was a comfortable looking room with a soft bed, an expensive looking sofa table, and two chairs. There was also a TV. It looked like a good place for two people to live.

“Monty wanted a secret base. Just like a little kid. He spent way too much money on all these contraptions and whatnot. Says he wants to put a pinball machine up there. We’ll see about that! Well then. Make yourselves at home.”

“Where’s Monty? I need answers from him to make sense of all this.”

“Well, I don’t know about getting answers, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Alright you two. Get moving. Time for you both to shower. You’re stinking up the whole place. Oh, and here. Some clothes for Marlene to change into. It’s a complete set from top to bottom. From the looks of it, she’s not wearing diapers anymore, is she?”

“Nope!” Marlene bragged.

Tifa wanted to throw her arms around her and hug her. This new feeling that arose within her startled her—Was this what people called maternal instincts?

“Alright then… Tifa? Leave the rest to me and you can just—Oh! Almost forgot! Let’s go back upstairs for a bit.”

The two of them stood on the elevator.

“You have to jump on it!” said Marlene.

Marle narrowed her eyes, and then stomped on the floor. Tifa thought about what kind of person Monty was for making such a contraption. What sort of life had this white-haired grandfatherly gentleman been leading up until now?

“I’d like to go and greet Monty, and maybe see how he’s doing.”

“Now’s not a good time. You can go after things have quieted down a bit.”

“I see…”

“Come on. It’s okay! I’ll look after him. Goodness gracious! We’re hopelessly linked together. Anyway, enough about that. Don’t you think Barret would make a great bodyguard with those fierce looks? We need lots of help with the physical work at the bar too.”

Tifa burst out laughing. Wasn’t that basically a bottomless act of kindness? Wasn’t Marle the one against the idea when Tifa brought it up to her that she was going to take them with her to Container Alley in Sector 8? When Tifa pointed that out to her, Marle shrugged it off.

“I hate losing, that’s all. Even when it comes to meddling, I can’t let myself lose to you, missy.”

As they arrived at the terrace, Marle, careful of their surroundings, said, “I received a message from Jessie. She said to tell you, “I'm going to see you on my day off the week after next. Wait for my call.”

The week after next! It was more good news than she had expected.

“How about that then?” Marle boasted.

“Thank you so much!”

“But aside from that, I can still count on you next week, right?”

“Of course,” she said, and then left the Seventh Heaven. Turning back several times to look, she noticed some customers visibly disappointed that the bar was closed. Did they come there for her? Tifa regretted not being able to greet them with a smile.

The idea occurred to her that perhaps it would be good for her to learn how to make cocktails. If she could learn, they could reopen the business at night and not have to wait until Monty had recovered. It was a fascinating idea. But before that, she should think about developing the lunch menu first. Ideas, no, dreams popped into her head one after another.

"Welcome back." Rakesh greeted her in the passageway. He had been waiting for her where Gatekeeper used to always sit.

"I'm back."

"Where did you go?" he began to ask, but cut himself off and shook his head from side to side. "Sorry! Sorry! You see, these kinda questions just come out naturally.”

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm working as the security guard until we can find a replacement."

"Oh, really? Must be hard on you."

"Yeah, maybe. But you do what you gotta do."

"That's true. Well, good night."

Tifa, fearing that Rakesh would bring up again that they couldn't escape from Manson, got away from him. She unlocked her container, went inside, and turned on the lights. Wow, what a life of misery! She felt like the few good things that happened today all got wiped out the moment she returned to the container.

She retrieved the knapsack hidden at the bottom of her clothes bin and began to count what was inside. But it wasn’t necessary for her to count to know how much money she had. There was enough to finish paying off her debt a year sooner. In other words, just two more years. Just two more years and she would be released from Manson's rules. She suddenly felt energized. She rose up and began reviewing her kata.

It had been several years since she saw Zangan. She wondered where he could be. The flow of her kata had completely changed into the “Tifa-ryu”, into her own style. Was that okay? She wanted his guidance. Was he somewhere here in Midgar? Was he even looking for her? All he had to do was go to Damini's clinic and ask about her, and they’d be able to tell him where to find her. Rakesh could show him the way.

"Oh!" She had forgotten. When Marle was discharged, she had told Rakesh her whereabouts, didn't she? What did he do with that information? She left her container and returned to the main street in the alley.

“Rakesh.”

"Hm?"

"Did Marle ever give you her address?"

"Marle?" Was he trying to play dumb? "Ahh. You mean that old grandma who was hospitalized several years ago? I remember her. But, her address? Not a clue. She's really old. Maybe she's going senile. Lots of people like her think that they did something, but it turns out they didn't. Like I told you, she never told me anything like that—”

He was rambling. His conscience must have really bothered him.

"Have you seen Master Zangan?"

"No, I haven't."

"Since when?"

"Uhh... Let me see..."

Had this guy always been such a terrible liar? She was furious at herself for not having seen through his lies. She squeezed over her left hand with the leather bracelet. On second glance, she saw that the cord had turned completely black.

"It's been a really long time since we met."

"If you see Master Zangan, make sure to tell him about me. Tell him about this place, about the food stall, and where to find me. Tell this to Dr. Damini too."

"Yeah, of course."

His smile had returned. Perhaps because he thought that their difficult conversation was finally over.

The next Wednesday, there was sad news waiting for Tifa who had been so excited to see Marlene again. Monty had passed away. His condition became critical on Sunday night, and then by early Monday morning, he had taken his last breath. Barret and Marlene were able to speak to him on Sunday and thanked him for lending them the basement room.

"I was supposed to take you to go and see him next week. I'm so sorry for what I did," Marle apologized, clutching Tifa's hands. Then, without a hitch, she said, "Alright! I promised Monty this. We're going to work our butts off and make this place come alive once more!"

Marle, Barret, and even Marlene began to face forward and started moving. Work was divided among them for the opening preparations. Barret mopped the floors with intensity. Little Marlene went around wiping down chairs with a rag. She wore a cute one piece dress with a large decorative ribbon tied around her waist, and her hair was brushed until it was nice and shiny.

"We're only staying open until 5 pm in the evening again. No alcohol. Afterward, I'd like to talk to both of you about something. Something Monty wanted me to discuss."

A decent number of guests showed up that day. Marle laughed, saying that it was a good thing Barret left right when they opened. It seemed to be part of his daily routine ever since he started living in the basement. He would leave Marlene with Marle and go out. Marlene would sit at a children’s stool at the counter and tend to the shop.

“Barret and Marlene came to Midgar a year ago when Marlene was still a baby,” said Marle, careful to speak so as to not let Marlene hear. “They wandered around from place to place studying Planetology. Whenever he heard there was a gathering or a screening, he would show up. That’s why he started camping out on the terrace, looking for a young woman he met at one of those screenings. Her name was…”—Marle lowered his voice.—”one you know pretty well. Jessie. Jessie Rasberry.”

Tifa nodded quietly.

“The rest is up to you. I’ll respect whatever decision you make. But that won’t stop me from giving my opinion.” Having said that, Marle left the counter to serve customers. Tifa was suddenly curious, so she peeked behind the counter, and her eyes met Marlene's. She puffed out her cheeks and crossed her eyes at Marlene. It was the kind of funny face her mother was so good at making for her. What on earth was going on with her? Marlene burst into peals of laughter.

After the shop was closed and when it was time to clear things away, Barret returned. Today either, he couldn't find the woman named Jessie whom he was looking for.

“Come on, Marlene!” called out Marle. "Want to go and watch some tv downstairs? Stamp the Loyal Dog is about to start.”

“Stamp?” Marlene turned to look at Barret.

“Go on! Go and see!”

With a good-natured "okay", Marlene went to the movable part of the floor. She shouted out, “Boom!” and jumped into the air. The moment she landed, the floor began to drop. Marlene waved goodbye at them as she descended down below.

“Now then. Tifa, you first. This one is simple. It’s a souvenir for you from Monty,” said Marle, leaving a memo book on the countertop. “It contains his life’s work—His cocktail recipes. He told me to give this to you.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest. This felt like destiny. Calling it “destiny” would not be an overstatement. The memo book was the same size as the secret manuals that Zangan had given her. Even the color of the paper was the same.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to have this?”

“As long as it's not too heavy.”

“I’ll hold on tight.”

Tifa took the notes and flipped through them. It was covered with Monty’s meticulous handwriting and drawings.

“Whoa, incredible! If you learn how to make ‘em and open the bar at night, business will be boomin’! I can work as a bodyguard. See any pesky drunks, and I’ll catch ‘em by the neck and toss ‘em straight out!”

“That might actually be fun. It would be nice if we could really make it happen,” said Tifa.

“Thought so!” Barret seemed proud.

Marle, however, dropped her gaze.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tifa.

“If we don’t have 200,000 gil ready by the end of this month, the bar will change hands. Monty said that he hadn't been able to pay the carpenter—the man who’s also the boss who named this bar the Seventh Heaven. The boss extended the due date, but it seems he's already run out of patience.”

“200,000 for this place? That's dirt cheap!”

“That’s just the money due now. The rest we pay daily.”

“Oh, makes sense. Hold up! We don’t have any money! Doubt we even have 10 gil between us.”

“Monty had 40,000 saved up, so we need 160,000. If we don’t have it ready, the bar will be sold. It’s a nice location, you see. There’s plenty of buyers ready to snatch it right up.”

“Tch! Bet that’s gonna make Marlene sad,” said Barret. He sounded so casual about it.

“Don’t tell me you plan on sleeping outdoors again?!” exclaimed Marle.

“Hey, we’ve got good quality sleeping bags.”

“Unbelievable!” cried Tifa.

Sensing blame from her, Barret snorted in annoyance.

“I want Marlene to have good memories too, you know. I want her to wear pretty little dresses and have her hair tied up every day; I want her to shower everyday; and get to sleep in a nice comfortable bed every night. But I don’t have money for all that! What do you want me to do? What I have instead is freedom. Just think. What’ll happen to you if you get yourself into debt? Money will tie you down and make you feel trapped. That’ll make your parents cry!”

Barret was only giving a hypothetical situation but it came as a shock to her. The situation she found herself living in, no matter how much hope she had in herself, would bring her parents to tears from anyone else’s point of view.

“Well, my parents are no longer here.”

That was the one thing out of what was said that she could object to.

“Huh? Did I hit a nerve? Buried in debt at your age or something? Well, sorry about what I said. But even if they’re dead, you still have your parents. They’re one with the Planet, and you’re connected to the Planet. And through that connection, you’ll always be with them, whether they’re dead or alive.”

“When they die, they go back to nothing,” Marle interrupted. “There are no more regrets. They’ll continue living on in someone’s heart. Isn’t that good enough? If you’re gonna start lecturing on Planetology, you’d better go elsewhere.”

“Hmph!”

“Well, then, I guess we've come to a conclusion. I'm sorry, but this place is closing at the end of the month.”

“Alright! Let’s give it all we’ve got till the end.”

Why were they getting over it so easily? That frustrated Tifa. Was it all right to make such a quick decision on such an important matter?

“Are we gonna lose our house?” asked Marlene. They didn’t know how long she’d been upstairs. “Are we gonna lose the store?”

She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Weren’t you watching tv?” asked Barret.

Marlene tilted her head to the side. “Are we gonna lose our house and have to sleep outside again?”

“Don’t you worry. Daddy will make sure you’re okay. I’ll find us another house.”

“But I like it here.”

Barret drew close and reached over to hug her, but she slipped through his hands and hid behind Tifa.

“I wanna stay here!” she said before crying out in a heartbreaking wail.

“I have the money—160,000 gil,” Tifa blurted out.

Marle and Barret turned to her in surprise. Was that okay? Was that the right thing to do?

When it was time for her to head home, Barret asked to walk her to the border of the slums. When she refused, he said he needed to talk to her. Marlene was left in Marle’s care, and the two of them exited the Seventh Heaven.

“I'll pay you back. One day, I promise. Even if it means making my parents cry.”

“No. I want to work at the bar. I want to make cocktails using Monty's recipes and have lots of customers. I think it’ll be fun. It’s true I felt sorry for Marlene, but she was only the catalyst. The truth is, it's for me. So forget about the money. If you really want to pay me back, you can buy a pinball machine for the bar.”

“Alright.”

The more they talked, the more she felt relieved. Yes. Yes, that’s what this was all about. For my future, for me to survive here, the bar will be my secret base.

“By the way, I heard you know Jessie Raspberry?”

She turned to Barret in surprise. “Did Marle tell you?”

“Nah. Heard it from Marlene. She knows I’ve been looking all over for Jessie.”

Oh yeah. It had to be that one time. When Marle was telling her about what Barret was up to, Marlene was certainly there.

“Can you help us meet up?”

“Why do you want to see her? If you want to join a Planetology study group, I can introduce you to someone else I know. Some of them are our customers.”

“The Planetology stuff’s just a front. The real plan is to get into Avalanche. I’ve heard that Avalanche often blends into Planetology study groups, so whenever I caught wind about one of these study groups, I’d join. Out of all of them, the only one I knew for sure was Avalanche was Jessie. ‘Course I’ve tried searching for others besides her, but Shinra’s been putting intense pressure on them. They’ve all gone into hiding.”

“Guess it’s connected to the incident at the Corel Mako Reactor.”

“Me and Marlene—we’re from Corel.”

She looked at Barret, surprised.

“They took our families and our homes from us. Everyone says it was Avalanche’s doing but I know it’s all Shinra. I’m gonna blow ‘em up into a million little pieces! Talking about the mako reactors—Got that?”

As they walked on, he pointed towards a reactor.

“If we don’t do something to stop them, they’ll destroy the planet. Those reactors are draining the lifeblood from it. I never really paid attention until I started studying Planetology. But, no matter how you look at it, you just can't go off and fight Shinra on your own. You need comrades. We can do anything. Not alone. But we can if we work together. Ain't it the truth?”

Jessie had told her something similar inside the container. She broke into a smile.

“Come on, Tifa. I’m begging you. I think this is the kinda “connection” Marle’s always talking about.”

“Could be. But it’s not my decision to make. I need to ask Jessie first.”

“Yeah. I owe you one!”

She promised Barret she would talk to Jessie about him when they meet up next week, and the two of them parted ways.

A week would pass by without incident. At least that’s what she thought.  It happened on Tuesday evening. The Sector 8 Steamed Buns were selling well. After business was finished and she had drawn the food cart back to base, Uncle said, "Hey, Tifa. You still hanging around with Avalanche?"

"Huh?”

Did she ever tell him about that? She remembered he had given her a warning about it, but...

"Not anymore. They went away somewhere."

"That's good." He was unusually expressive. She wondered if something had happened.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"At 10 o'clock tomorrow night, Avalanche will be holding a meeting. Shinra plans on attacking them right then and there. They're preparing helicopters and special forces up top.”

"They are?"

"You're the best partner I could ever have. I don’t ever wanna see you looking down. If you have friends there, I think you should let them know."

"Thank you. But I’m okay."

"Yeah. Alright then. I'll see you after the break. Let's  challenge ourselves to 1,500!"

For some time now, she had been feeling a sense of guilt, as if she was betraying Uncle.

"Um, I—" Tifa stopped in her tracks. "After I finish paying Manson, I'm going to quit."

Uncle hooted in surprise. "So you've got enough to pay him back?"

"I still have a ways to go, but I want you to know now."

"Then let's aim for 2,000. You'll be able to pay him back sooner that way, right?"

Rakesh was there on the road in Container Alley.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks."

She tried to walk past while avoiding his gaze.

"Hey, Tifa. You have tomorrow off, right? It's been a while. Mind visiting the clinic?"

"Sorry. I have plans tomorrow."

"Ah, well never mind. Another time," said Rakesh, backing away.

After she had walked a short distance toward her container, she changed her mind and turned around.

“I'll stay here and work until I pay everything back. You don't need to worry.”

She would use all of her savings towards the Seventh Heaven. That was why she needed to double her efforts to pay back her loan. That was the right thing to do. She was positive.

“Now then!”

Tifa returned to her container and agonized over her thoughts. She needed some way to inform Jessie that Shinra was planning on attacking during the Avalanche meeting. There was a possibility Jessie was already aware. Besides, there was no telling if she would even participate in that meeting. But Tifa couldn’t just leave it alone like that. There had to be some way of getting the message across to her.

“Oh!” She had a sudden flash of inspiration. It was worth a try. Walking out of the container, she ran over to Water Guard.

"Good evening."

"Hi there, Tifa. Here to shower?"

"But first, please listen to me," Tifa whispered. "At 10 o' clock tomorrow, Avalanche will be holding their  meeting. That info got leaked to Shinra Company. I need to get this information out to the people at Avalanche.”

“Why are you telling me? The only ones saying my son’s with Avalanche are the people at Shinra. Well, even if it’s true, I haven’t seen him in ten years. I have no way of knowing.”

“Right…”

“But still, where’d you get your hands on such dangerous information?”

“From someone I work with. People call him ‘Uncle.’”

She wondered if it was alright to talk to her about it. Did Water Guard, by any chance, know who Uncle was?

“Hmm. Well, I won’t say I don’t know him, but I can’t help you.”

On that note, she stopped talking altogether.

"I'm sorry for bringing up something strange like this."

There was no response.

Maybe she could ask Marle to pass on the message again. Even though each time it took a long time to reach them, perhaps that was her best option. What if she headed over to Sector 7 now? It was late at night, but she’d have to be at the bar in the morning anyway. She could probably stay there overnight. As she was getting ready, she heard someone knock at her door.

“No need to open.” It was Water Guard’s voice. “After we talked, I remembered my son's contact info. I tried calling that number and the call went through. I gave him the information you gave me. He said thank you, and he’s going to tell all his friends.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s one more thing. A message from the other side. ‘Tomorrow, Wednesday night at 9 o’clock, at the movie theater on your birthday.’”

“Huh?”

She sensed Water Guard leaving. She didn’t know what the message meant. But then it hit her. It had to be Jessie. The movie theater on her birthday must be the empty house where she had celebrated her 17th birthday.

She went in for her shower early the next morning. Even though she and Water Guard saw each other, the woman acted as if nothing had happened. Maybe that was her way of doing things. There was so much she wanted to ask her. Like how fast it took to communicate. Apart from her son, did she also get in touch with Jessie? She said she remembered her son's contact info, but the line of communication in the Slums was supposedly worse than in Nibelheim. She wondered if there was some method they knew of that she didn’t.

As Tifa left her container to go to Sector 7, she turned back just before leaving the alleyway to look at a group of containers lined up. She had been trying not to think about it, but wondered what kind of people lived there. It was funny to imagine Jessie secretly living in one of those containers. That seemed so unlikely.

The interior of the Seventh Heaven was bustling with activity, even though the shop was still preparing to open. Marlene was running around wiping down the chairs.

“Last three or four days, Marlene’s getting popular. Business is booming. We can do just fine without serving alcohol!” said Barret.

“What nonsense. We still have a ways to go. Now, Tifa. About the payment we owe to the boss. Next Wednesday at seven o’ clock in the evening, do you mind handing it over to him here? I’ll have him come over.”

“Alright. I understand.”

“But how are you going to carry all that money?”

“Oh...” She hadn’t thought about that. There were a lot of bills, but also coins too.

“I’ll help you,” said Barret. “We can close up shop and move the money during the day.”

“We can still keep the business running without you. Leave the restaurant to Marlene and I. You two go and get the money.”

“Roger that!” answered Barret cheerfully.

“Alright then. Let’s work hard today, shall we?”

The bar and restaurant was thriving. As Barret had boasted, Marlene’s presence was a huge factor. The number of customers with their families was increasing. It seemed to have been recognized as a place where people with children could enjoy.

As the evening wore on and the last of the guests were leaving, Marle approached her.

“You’re meeting Jessie tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t forget she’s with Avalanche. Just because Jessie’s a good person, doesn’t automatically mean her friends are. No, maybe they are, but people who preach about justice scare me. A lot of those guys think that as long as they're waving the flag of justice, they can do whatever they want.”

“Okay.”

“Now get out of here. Whenever I see your face I can’t stop lecturing.”

“Sorry for worrying you.”

“You should be sorry!”

Tifa left Seventh Heaven after promising to pay Marle next week. The woman still seemed to want to say something. The meeting place with Jessie was on the Sector 8 side of the border between the Sector 8 and Sector 7 slums.

The house sat on a vacant lot bordered by the outer wall. When she had lost touch with Jessie, she went there several times by herself on her way home from work. The vacant lot was used as a scrap yard. She had never been in any danger but still felt nervous.

Nights in the slums were artificial, but nights on the outskirts felt closer to what was real. It was a different kind of horror being able to tell the difference. As she approached the periphery, the smell of the air changed. The night air smelled real.

“Tifa.”

She nearly jumped from fright hearing someone suddenly call out to her, but when she turned around she was met with a face she had longed to see.

“Jessie!”

Jessie had on a jacket with a hood and jogging pants. She sprinted over to Tifa with light footsteps over piles of scraps.

“Tifa, it’s not safe here. Get away—?!”

For a moment, she had no idea what had happened. There was a crackling sound and sparks flying everywhere.

“We’re being shot at. Let’s run in a zig zag and head back to the slums.” Jessie took her by the hand and they started running.

She heard the same sound again. More gunshots. Something grazed her cheek.

“Ow!” She touched the area and felt blood on her fingertips. The blood rushed in her ears.

“Over there!”

But there was no time to spare even a look in any direction.

“Take me with you!”

“OK!”

The sound of gunfire started again. The bullets plunged into the ground, hitting scraps and scattering sparks, before bouncing away. Disorderly sounds. Weapons came flying out. She was scared. She felt like throwing up.

"Careless."

“Huh?”

“Open your eyes. Look around you.”

She hadn’t even realized her eyes were shut. The two girls hid behind the wreckage of a large, unidentified machine—a construction vehicle,  perhaps—and held their breaths.

“I think there are three guys shooting at us with machine guns. They’re hiding somewhere. This place looks safe, but once we make our escape, we'll have to temporarily expose ourselves."

The sound of gunshots ceased. Perhaps their location hadn’t been discovered.

"Ugh! No way! I bet they're waiting for us to make a move."

"Who is shooting at us? And why?"

“Avalanche scheduled a joint meeting today. It was supposed to be held near the outer wall in Sector 8, but word got out that our location was leaked out to Shinra, so it got cancelled. And then, surprise! Shinra had some sketchy info about an Avalanche meeting at the perimeter of the slums. So, right now, those guys are hitting every suspicious spot near the outer wall. Hear that? Listen carefully.”

She heard the faraway echoes of gunshots and explosions. Helicopters were chopping through the skies above.

“The place where I called you out to is practically right at the outer wall, so I started panicking. Luckily I got there just in time! If we climb over, we’re dead meat! You’re probably wondering what the hell is going on? If this were a play, someone would come and save the heroine, but I doubt that’ll happen in real life… Tifa, are you carrying any weapons?”

“No. But I’ve trained in martial arts.”

“Cool! But I don’t suppose you’ll be able to fight those guys shooting at us from faraway.”

“No. Probably not. I don’ t know. I won’t know unless I try.”

“You've never even done this before. Oh no you don’t! It's so typical of you self-confident people to be reckless!”

Shots rang out. The bullets hit a piece of metal nearby, ricocheting with a bang. Unlike before, the bullets rained down without letup, the sounds changing from intermittent to continuous gunfire. The sound itself seemed to have the power to kill.

“Is this the routine where they approach while trying to intimidate us? I don’t wanna die! I can’t die! We’ll just have to surrender. We can look for a chance to escape after. Uh, a handkerchief. I need something white.”

As Tifa sat puzzled, there was a very loud burst that sounded like thunder. Then silence. No, she could still hear shots ringing, but it seemed to be coming from a distance.  Or had her ears been damaged from the noisy gunfire?

“Hey! Tifa! You alright?”

The voice was familiar.

“Huh? What’s going on?” said Jessie. “ “Is this where the hero comes in to save the heroine who’s in trouble?”

“Tifa! You alive?” It was Barret calling for her.

“Yeah, I’m alive!” Her voice was different—She sounded weaker.

“Alright. There’s no one here. Get outta there—quick!”

Jessie went first and then Tifa followed, stepping out of the shadows of the rusty vehicle.

“Hey, Jessie. Long time no see.” Barret was standing about ten meters away.

“What’s going on? Barret, what are you doing here?” asked Jessie.

“Just the person I wanted to see. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Creep!”

As she listened to their exchange, Tifa couldn’t take her eyes off Barret’s right arm. There was a gun—or some kind of weapon—attached to it, thicker than his arm. She could see a number of muzzles. Was there still heat in it? The muzzles appeared to have a slightly red glow.

“Barret, your arm…”

“You mean this? I usually take it off. Think of it as proof that I mean business.”

Three Shinra soldiers were lying on the ground at his feet. So were their large and heavy guns, which had been used, unmistakably, to spit bullets at them earlier.

“These bastards got a bit trigger-happy with you two. They kept getting closer, and their backs were exposed. Listen up, Tifa.”

“Huh?”

“If I didn’t kill them, it would have been you.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t tell Marlene.”

“I won’t.”

Gunshots were still ringing out in the distance. Helicopters were circling high and low in the air.

“Hey you two?” said Jessie. “Shouldn’t we be running away by now?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Tifa, we’re going to your place.”

“Why?”

“Marle told me to make sure you get home safe and sound. Jessie, you come too. We need to talk.”

On the way to the Container Alley, Barret told them the story of how he ended up in that vacant lot.

“Marle said she had a really bad feeling about it, so she ordered me—more like kicked me out—to follow Tifa out of the bar. Lost her once in that maze of scrap metal, but those Shinra idiots were shooting at you all like crazy, so I knew right away where you were.”

“You say it like you’re so proud of yourself.” Jessie glared at him. “But it was a pretty close call.”

“Well, it turned out alright in the end, didn’t it? Hah!”

Before long they entered the passageway. Rakesh, who was Acting Gatekeeper, stared at the three of them in surprise.

“They’re my friends.”

“Alright. Got it.”

Rakesh was overwhelmed by Barret. He took two obvious steps back. He looked so funny that she felt the tension—which had been building since they were at the vacant lot—melted away.

Exiting the passageway, they stood in front of her container.

“Welcome to my humble abode! Thanks for walking me home. Would you, by any chance, like to come inside?”

“Looks cramped in there. I mean, it’s not that I really wanna go in, but I need to talk to Jessie. We're gonna be talking about some dangerous stuff, so I appreciate you letting us borrow your room.”

“It's supposed to be our girl’s night out.”

“I'll make this quick.”

She unlocked the door and opened it, ushering Barret in first, then Jessie, and then squeezed herself in last.

“Wow, it’s really cramped in here with three people.”

Tifa couldn't help but laugh when she saw Barret looking uncomfortable.

“Damn, you need to move out. Nobody should be living like this!”

“I’m going through a lot right now.”

"So, Barret, what did you need to talk about?"

"Yeah. About that." Barret plopped down on the floor and scratched his chin. "I'll say it plain and simple. Let me in Avalanche. You're my only hope. Take me to your leader. Elfe, right?"

Jessie sat down on the bed and, sure enough, began to stroke her own chin. Tifa leaned against the wall and listened in on their conversation.

“Hmm.” Jessie scratched her cheek, then at her side. “Simple for you, but not for me. But I’ll explain to you, so listen up.”

Barret leaned over.

“Something strange is going on with the main Avalanche being led by Elfe. Their objectives aren’t clear. That’s why some have distanced themselves and formed their own independent Avalanche. But each group is so small—Groups of three, ten, maybe twenty at the most. Not enough to make even a blip on Shinra’s radar. That’s why we’re trying to get together. Take down Shinra, destroy the mako reactors, protect the Planet, gain autonomy for Midgar, and restore the Republic. See? We all have different goals. Tonight's meeting was supposed to bring us all together. But how could we get together, when it’s not even possible for the three of us—me, Biggs, Wedge.”

“Huh?” Barret raised his eyebrows.

“I want to stop the reactors. Bomb them or something. Biggs hates Shinra anyway. He’ll do whatever it takes as long as it gives them some trouble. But there’s a lot of ordinary citizens who’ll get caught up in our mess too. That’s why we’re still not ready yet. Wedge says he’ll follow me and Biggs. Our hearts are all in it, but we’re just going in circles. If someone were to ask me at the meeting, 'Okay, so what does the Sector 7 Slums Chapter—that's what we call ourselves—feel is your aim, and how are you going to achieve it?' I don't think I can answer that question.”

"The point is you need someone who can take charge and be a leader, not just for you but Avalanche as a whole."

“Yep. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I’ll do it. Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“If you say so,” Jessie chuckled.

“You won’t know unless you make a move. What works, what doesn’t, or what kinda reaction you’re gonna get. You can fix problems as you keep on rolling. The worst thing you can do is to be too smart and overthink things. Let's get moving. Let me give you that push forward. Ride on my back. Who's in charge now? Jessie, is that you?”

“No. The Sector 7 Slums Chapter is ideologically equal. I love consensus decision-making.”

“That ain’t working out for you, is it? So why not try changing that? Right?”

“Hmm. Tifa, what do you think?”

“I think it’s better to have more people on your side. Besides, it’s good luck.”

“You can’t be serious?” Jessie was taken aback. “But, well, Barret does have that horsepower fueling his heart, doesn’t he? Barret, you have that drive—I mean, the ability to take a step forward. I think that's something we lack. Yeah. Things haven’t been working so far and that needs to change.”

※

“This was the beginning of our Avalanche. Biggs seemed to have a hard time with Barret at first, but he gradually got sucked into his pace too.”

“A takeover?”

“You could say that. Barret’s drive got the other groups involved and we grew bigger. But the more people there are, the more people with opinions, right? Barret couldn’t handle it and exploded. This happened several times, and each time, the Sector 7 Slums Chapter got smaller. The last time he went ballistic was the defection from HQ.”

“Surprised you stuck with him.”

“Because, you know, we had a connection. That connection led me to meet you too, Red.”

“Hmph!” Red XIII dexterously scratched behind his ears with his back foot. “So, what happened to that guy?”

“Hm? Him, who?”

“Rakesh. There's more to this story, isn't there? So what happened?”

※

Time flew by quickly, and it was Wednesday again. Early in the morning, Tifa finished her daily shower and waited for Barret to arrive. They were to carry 160,000 gil together. The money was a deposit to become the owner of Seventh Heaven, so to speak. The debt left by Monty would be repaid in monthly installments.

After consultation, it was decided that Barret would take Tifa's advice and operate the store. To distance herself from Avalanche, Marle stayed away from the bar. However, she was more than ready to put in a word or two, and sometimes even get involved in matters. Tifa couldn’t understand why Marle had to stay away, but she guessed she had her own logic and reasoning.

Tifa would continue to sell at the Sector 8 Steamed Buns to pay off her debts. Once that was over, she planned to work full-time at the Seventh Heaven. The goal was to join them in two years. Until then, she planned on learning to make cocktails little by little.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” Barret said as he came to escort her. “Hah! Know what’s funny? Last week’s gunfire caused damage to the Plate up top too, so they’re toning down on the Avalanche hunting. This will make it a little easier for us to operate... Hey, Tifa, what's the matter?”

She hadn't heard half of what Barret had said. There was no 160,000 gil in the usual place. The entire bag was gone.

“My money’s gone.”

“Huh?”

“I put it in a knapsack and hid it in here. It's gone!”

She flipped over her clothes bin. Her underwear spilled out, but she didn’t care.

“Nuna na na na.” Barret let out strange, garbled noises.

“Stop fooling around!”

“We’re talking 160,000 gil! Course I’d be sputtering! When was the last time you remember seeing the money?”

“Last night. It was pretty late.”

“So it's gone today—this morning? You were in your room the whole time, weren't you?”

“Yeah. Waiting for you to... Oh! The shower!”

Tifa rushed out of the container and hurried over to the shower room where Water Guard was.

“Did anyone else come in while I was in the shower?”

“You’re asking me as if I can see your container from here… Oh, the gatekeeper came to take a shower. After he found out you were in there, he went right back out.”

Tifa thanked her and ran over to where the gatekeeper usually sat. Barret joined her along the way.

“I’ve searched your house. The money’s not there.”

“I think I know who did it.”

The two ran through the slums in the early morning in pursuit of Rakesh, the acting gatekeeper. Their destination: Dr. Damini Orange’s clinic and Rakesh’s home.

If they couldn’t find him there, they would go look for him at Manson’s base. They arrived, out of breath. A man’s angry voice could be heard from inside the clinic, and then a woman screamed. Tifa reached for the door. It was unlocked. Noises could be heard from inside again. The sound of violence, of machines breaking, and of shattering glass.

“Stop!” Damini cried out.

“I’ve got the money!” It was Rakesh’s voice.

Barret puts his thick forefinger to his lips. He probably wanted to see how things played out.

“Of course I'll take it. But you're a week late, aren’t you? If you're late, we'll have to make an example out of you, don’t we? Otherwise, you might think it’s okay to walk all over me.”

The voice was one she knew well. Tifa was both shocked and confused.

“No, we won’t think that! We know you’re a man to be feared!”

“So what have you been doing all week? Tell me.”

But she couldn’t hear Rakesh’s answer.

“I’ll tell you what. I heard that you took the money your mother saved up to bet on the chocobos again. Money you were supposed to pay me back. Whadduya take me for, huh?”

“I had solid insider tips that were definitely gonna pay off.”

She heard the sound of more things breaking.

“Please don’t break it. Please!” Damini pleaded. “Manson sir!”

“No way!” Tifa panicked and tried to cover her mouth, but it was too late.

“Who the hell’s there?”

A small elderly man emerged from the back.

“Tifa…”

Uncle stood there, wearing his usual red top and bottom.

“Uncle… You’re Manson?”

Uncle’s eyes swam in different directions, and his mouth flapped open and closed before he sighed deeply.

“Well, not much I can do. The truth’s out now. Every Wednesday, I work this job.”

“So you were the one who had me bound by the Manson Rule?”

“Wait a minute. I don't know nothin’ about that.”

“But Rakesh said…”

“Then take it up with him. He’s in the back blowing his nose.”

Tifa was about to go towards the back—

“Manson sir.” Rakesh emerged with swollen eyelids. It looked like he had just wiped off a fresh nosebleed. “Please take this and go home for today. I know it’s not enough.”

Rakesh offered the knapsack to Uncle—to Manson.

“That's my money!”

“We’ll be taking that back!” said Barret, knocking the knapsack from Rakesh’s hand and pulling it towards him. “Secured!”

“Ahh!” Rakesh moaned, as if it was his own money that was being stolen from him.

“I need an explanation, Rakesh. Or from you, Uncle.”

“Rakesh owes me a huge debt,” Uncle began to explain in an annoyed tone. “Debts he racked up from gambling. In order to repay the money, they were charging a premium for the treatment here and making the patients pay for it. So many victims. Of course the mother was in on it too.”

“How much did my treatment really cost?”

“A third of it. I’m really sorry,” answered Damini from the back.

Tifa felt suffocated hearing her words. What! A third? She clutched at the leather bracelet on her left wrist. The cord snapped, unraveled, and fell to the floor.

“I mentored you so you wouldn't have to go to Wall Market, no matter how hard times got. Don't you agree?”

“Tifa, let's go. Stick around them any longer and you’ll start to rot too,” Barret spat out.

“I understand. But before we go—” Tifa held both fists in front of her face. She took a deep breath. Slowly. Slowly. And then slowly exhaled. The Book of Secrets, Volume 5, Number 1-1-1. A right-handed punch struck Rakesh Orange square in the jaw. He spun around and fell against the wall of the infirmary. Damini rushed over to him and cradled his head. Tifa didn’t feel a shred of guilt or remorse at seeing him like that.

“Uncle.” When Tifa addressed him, Uncle scratched his head. “So you knew everything.”

“Yeah. But for me it was hard letting go of talent. I told you plenty of times, didn’t I? You’re the best partner I could ever have. That’s why I got on board with Rakesh’s plans.”

“I loved working at the food stall. Even if I had a hard time, I could forget it if I concentrated on the steamed buns. It also taught me the joy of work. That's why it would have been better if you had hired me normally.”

Uncle exhaled regretfully.

“I've been with the underworld for too long.”

Tifa turned her attention to Damini. “I’m all paid up, right?”

“I’ll manage the rest. Thanks for everything you did. No, I’m sorry.”

“Tifa.” Rakesh wobbled to his feet. “The truth is, I loved you…”

The Book of Secrets, Vol. 5, No. 2-2-1. A kick to the side of the head.

※

“I felt better after that last kick… Thank you for your time and attention. Yes, this is the end of the story of me and my gullible days.”

“Oh. So you're not like that now?”

“I intend not to be.”

Red XIII stared at her. Tifa returned his gaze.

“How about Zangan?” He readily changed the subject.

“I don't know. I have no idea. But the next time I see him…”

“You still haven't taken your Menkyo Kaiden yet.”

“Nope. Next time, I’ll go up against him using the Tifa-ryu. I'm a little angry at Sensei.”

Red XIII cleared his throat. Was he laughing? The wind blew again. The meadow rippled.

“Let's go to the others.”

As she stood up, the wind came. Tifa started to walk towards the wind.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by Peko

Proofread by my good friend & most amazing person ever for sticking with me on such a long project, Eerie. Thank you a million times thank you!

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts pgs 122-149/208

Past the afternoon peak hours, Tifa switched stations with Uncle. She was lining up the dough for the steamed buns into the steamer pot when she detected the presence of a customer standing at the stall.

“I’d like twenty-two steamed buns. I’ll leave the fillings up to you.”

“Twenty-two?!”

It was rare for Uncle to sound so alarmed. Glancing over, she saw a young man with a round face and body, perhaps around the same age as her.

“Yeah, twenty-two. My friends are waiting over there.” The customer pointed to a man and a woman leaning against the fence by the railroad tracks, engulfed in conversation. They both had very distinct features—the kind of faces Tifa saw around Midgar—and seemed a bit older than her.

“They each get one, and I get twenty all to myself.” The customer seemed proud of himself for some reason. Tifa giggled.

When their eyes met, he stuck out his fist and gave her a thumbs up. Tifa silently bowed, and then positioned herself next to Uncle to assist him.

“Once you’re done, can you put them in here?”

The customer lifted a wicker basket up to his chest, and appeared to have it propped on his protruding belly.

“I heard the Sector 8 steamed buns were mouth-wateringly delicious, so I came to try them out.”

“That’s nice,” Uncle grumbled in gratitude.

“Rumor has it that the female stall assistant is cute too and, sure enough, they weren’t lying about that.”

“Thank you very much.” Tifa smiled out of habit. But when the customer desperately sniffed at the simmered minced meat, she couldn’t help laughing again.

“Wonder what meat is in it...”

“Meat? Well it’s—”

“Ooh!”—The customer frantically cut Uncle off as he was just about to answer.—“Don't tell me. I'll guess!”

“Suit yourself.” Uncle couldn’t suppress his smile.

Tifa held back laughter as she started to put together the steamed buns and placed each one into the customer’s basket. The customer immediately began to sniff the food with satisfaction, a dreamy look on his face. She wanted to meet his dining expectations, so even though she had been instructed to serve surplus ingredients for “chef recommendation” orders, she prepared for a scolding and filled them with her own recommendations instead.

Looking over, she noticed Uncle following suit, his hands moving swiftly as he picked up the ingredients off the plates. His hands crossed from plate to plate as if they were leaping, as if dancing. That caught the customer’s attention, and he watched in astonishment.

Tifa timed it so that she could reach over and grab the ingredients from the plates the moment Uncle finished. She imitated his movements. But for her, moving to the rhythm became more like a performance of kata from the Zangan-ryu than a dance. The image was so funny that she burst out laughing. She glanced over and saw the customer matching his neck movements to the same rhythm.

It was the first time she had had that much fun putting together steamed buns. In five minutes, twenty-two steamed buns were placed into the wicker basket, and the customer left in the direction of his companions, sniffing inside the basket along the way.

Perhaps unable to wait a moment longer, he stopped in his tracks, retrieved a bun from the basket and gave it a firm bite. His rounded jaw paused, and then started moving. He looked over mid-chew to where they were and thrust out another thumbs up. Tifa couldn’t help returning the same gesture. But what was even more surprising was catching Uncle also doing the same pose as them.

“Gotta take good care of customers like him.”

“Because he’ll give us good publicity?”

“That too. But, lessee, how do I put this? People like him remind us of the satisfaction and joy that comes with being in this line of work. Know what I mean?”

The three of them were thoroughly enjoying their steamed buns near the fence when the older man who had just finished eating a bun reached over to take another one from the wicker basket. The owner of the basket sensed this and rushed to stop him. Meanwhile, the woman thrust her hand into the basket and grabbed one, then turned her back on them and stuffed it into her mouth.

Uncle was right. She felt several warm feelings growing inside her. It had been a long time since she felt this way.

“Come on, we need those buns steamed.”

Now that they were out twenty-two buns all at once, their supply chain needed to be replenished.

“I’m on it!” Tifa returned to the steamer pot to line up the dough for the steamed buns.

“Huh?” Tears began to fall from the corner of her eyes.

“Huh?”

She wiped them away and blinked repeatedly.

“How strange…”

She couldn’t pretend to be ignorant of the emotions concealed within her heart. She envied the three of them. They made her realize that she was all alone.

After work was over, she started walking in the direction of Container Alley. She had to go to work everyday, but the Slums at night was still a scary place to be. Her body was tense from being on constant guard.

"Oh, hey!" A voice called out from behind.

Tifa ducked, and then turned around to find a young woman standing there. A beauty with a slender face and shapely nose.

"Aha! I knew it was you! The Sector 8 Steamed Bun lady!"

She was one of the people in that friendly group of three. Ever since the day they first ordered those twenty-two steamed buns, they would come back to purchase from her regularly. There were times they came together, while other times separately.

"Miss."

"Call me Jessie. Jessie Raspberry," she introduced herself, placing her hand on her hips and posing with a bit of flare.

"I'm Tifa. Tifa Lockhart."

“Wow! Even your name is cute. How old are you—Seventeen?”

“Sixteen.”

“Off work today?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, do I make you nervous?”

“Not at all. Well… maybe.”

What she really wanted was to talk to her more—She even longed for it. But Tifa wasn’t quite sure how to express her feelings.

“I see. Sorry, sorry! Well, I'll see you in front of the station some time.”

Tifa murmured an apology, turned her back on Jessie, and immediately began walking away. After a short distance, she turned around and realized that Jessie was still watching her. She gave Tifa a tiny wave. Tifa slightly bowed her head, and then started walking again.

As she approached the alley where she was supposed to turn, a man who had the obvious appearance of a hoodlum was walking from the other side. He had on a flashy shirt and strutted with a swagger.

Marle had warned her to stay away from hoodlums. The man’s manner of walking was similar to the way Rakesh had walked when imitating one for her to see. Supposedly, Uncle used to be one back in the days, which was why he told her that if anyone were to ask, she just had to bring up that she was being “taken care of by Manson Group”, and then she’d be okay. If those magic words didn’t work, she was to take off running away at full speed.

The hoodlum was looking straight at her. Tifa averted her gaze and moved closer to the edge of the street. But he followed her.

“Hey there, City Beauty. It’s your chance to get rich quick! You can apply with those pretty looks of yours! How’s about workin’ that pretty face to make some money?”

“I’m not interested.”

Tifa tried to escape past him, but the hoodlum’s footwork was surprisingly light and quick. He went around and cut her off.

“Hey! Hey! Look up. Lemme see that face.”

He reached out his hand and tried to grab her chin. Tifa swiftly pulled back, and the man's hand swiped in front of her and missed.

She didn’t neglect a single day reviewing the lessons from the Zangan-ryu. This hoodlum was full of openings. The chances of beating him were high, but she remembered uncle‘s words: “These hoodlums are hard to shake off, so they’ll keep coming back until they beat ya. It’s better to avoid them at the start. Don’t forget the magic words.”

“Hey! What are you doing?!” It was a woman’s voice.

Turning around, she saw Jessie barrel towards them, propel herself upwards into a jump, before driving a toe kick smackdab into the side of the hoodlum’s face. The man groaned, his voice mangling, before he collapsed onto the ground.

“Let's go!” Jessie seized her hand and took off running, pulling Tifa along with her. They entered a nearby alleyway and turned several corners.

“Where do you live?”

Tifa described the general location based on the street, but she wasn’t sure how to get there from the alleyway they were currently at.

“You mean Container Alley?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s surprising. But I know where it’s at. I’ll take you there.”

Without waiting for her response, Jessie started walking. Along the way, she informed Tifa about the hoodlum that was taken down with a kick. He was a lackey of another lackey of another lackey working under Don Corneo, the man who had Wall Market in Sector 6 under his thumb. These hoodlums scouted women to work for Don Corneo’s shops. Though weak, they were trained to be persistent.

“And this is the most important thing: Stay away from Wall Market, and if Corneo’s name is mentioned, don't get involved. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Oops. I’m lecturing like I’m the experienced one here, but you probably know all this already, don’t you?”

“Just a little. In any case, I was told to stay away from Sector 6.”

“As you should.”

“Jessie, do you practice martial arts?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean that kick? Neat, wasn’t it? They had it on the action training program. But that was the first time I actually struck a person. I’m an actress, you see.”

“What?!”

“Business is temporarily closed now though.”

“I believe you.”

“Is it because you’re in such awe of my beauty that you’re convinced I'm an actress?”

“Yes.”

“Aww! That's so sweet of you to say!” Jessie gave a carefree laugh. Tifa found herself laughing with her too.

“Hey, we’re almost at Container Alley, right?”

She wasn't sure how they got there or which route they took, but they managed to get back onto a familiar road. Tifa pulled ahead of Jessie and said, “I’ll be okay now that we’ve made it this far. Thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, but I’ll walk you all the way home. We’re almost there, right?”

“Yeah…”

She didn’t want Jessie to see what kind of place she was living in. After being there for two years, she was aware that her living conditions were near poverty. She had considered moving, but needed to put it off until her debt was repaid.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Jessie started walking. Soon after, they approached the usual roadside spot where Gatekeeper sat. Noticing that it was Tifa, he mumbled a greeting and made way for her.

“Wow. You've got perfect security here.”

It wasn’t long before they arrived at Tifa’s container.

“This is it.”

Tifa removed the lock and unhooked the latch.

“Classic!” blurted out Jessie. She probably didn’t mean any harm, but Tifa felt embarrassed. “Hey, mind if I see inside? Sorry, I don’t mean to be pushy, but I’m dying to find out!”

“Be my guest.”

Jessie gleefully stepped inside. Tifa switched on the lights. The interior hadn’t changed much since she moved in aside from adding a bit more clothing to her wardrobe.

“You really live here?”

“Yes. For about two years. I plan on leaving someday, but until then, I’m fine being where I’m at.”

“By yourself? Where are your parents?”

“Yes, by myself. My parents are gone now.”

“I see…”

Jessie gave the room another glance around.

“So the shower and bathroom are outside? Makes sense. I mean, it’s a container after all. Hey, how much does it cost?”

“15 gil a day. But I do like showering, so that’s another 5 gil. About 600 gil a month. But, even in months that have more days, they only charge me 600 gil.”

Jessie crinkled her brows. “Tifa, did you run into some problems?”

Tifa felt that maybe it would be alright to open up to this person. Not because she wanted someone to rescue her. Just someone who could listen and show her a bit of sympathy and tell her, “I know it’s not easy.” That alone would make the days worth living, she thought.

“I need to pay back some money.”

“Huh…” Jessie kept on nodding. “Still a lot left to pay off?”

“About… four years left...”

“Yikes!” Jessie sat down on the bed and patted the seat next to her. “You can tell your big sister all about it.”

Tifa sat down on the bed as well. After some thought, she let her emotions take control and began to tell her story from the moment the Soldier lost his mind and set fire to her village until the present day. The more they talked, the more it stirred up feelings of regret. Shouldn't she try to find out the truth about that incident? And yet, she even felt like her debt was a form of escape. Once she got it all out, she wept.

“You’re working so hard. Yep. I don’t know a single soul in the slums who’s worked harder than Tifa Lockhart!”

Encouraged by Jessie’s words, Tifa sniffled.

“And you’re not running away. I’m pretty familiar with the incidents that occurred due to Shinra's doings, but I haven’t heard about Nibelheim. Which can only mean one of two things: Shinra hasn’t made it public or they’re trying to cover it up. You don’t stand a chance. No way you can handle them alone. Don’t be reckless.”

“Alright…”

“I'm sure you can avenge your father. I’ll help you. Not right away, though.”

She hadn't really thought that far ahead. But talking to Jesse inspired her. She gripped the leather bracelet around her wrist.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Hmm, I wonder. Maybe I’m just nosy? You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Oh, but I don’t have any money, so don’t get your hopes up about that!”

Jessie encircled an arm around Tifa’s back and squeezed her shoulder in a hug. Depleted after the long talk, Tifa abandoned herself in the embrace.

“We can do anything. Even if it’s not possible on our own, we can make it happen if we join forces.”

Since that time, she would spend time with Jessie once or twice a week. Sometimes Wedge or Biggs would be with them. The glutton she met that first day was Wedge, and the other man, Biggs. Through these three, she formed other acquaintances who told her of safe places she could go to eat late at night.

An outfit was chosen for her based on Jessie’s selection, and Jessie was also the one who trained Tifa on proper posture and how to walk on stage. Until then (according to Biggs, at least) she was like a small animal on alert.

It was now her 17th birthday. After work finished, she returned the food stall to the warehouse, and went to turn in the proceeds to Rakesh. Once they completed their nightly protocol, Uncle went home as usual.

“Hey, Tifa.” Rakesh seemed unusually uneasy. He looked like he had something to say to her. She quickly braced herself. “About those people you befriended recently. They’re part of a group that doesn’t really have a good reputation, so…”

“You mean the Neighborhood Watch?” asked Tifa. Her tone came out harsher than she meant to be.

“They’re with Avalanche.”

“Avalanche?”

She had heard about them. Avalanche was an anti-Shinra organization that disturbed peace and order, using violent methods and causing chaos everywhere they went. Elfé was their leader.

“Even if that’s true, they’re not bad people.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think of them. The problem is what does Shinra think? It's better to keep your distance. I’m worried that if they start hunting down Avalanche, you'll get dragged into their mess.”

As she walked down the lane to Container Alley, Gatekeeper informed her that she had guests. Who could they be? She grew anxious.

Approaching cautiously, she noticed Jessie, Biggs and Wedge waiting for her in front of the container.

“Welcome back.”

“Happy birthday!” Jessie hugged Tifa.

“Hey, Tifa. We know you work tomorrow, but are you available from now until 2 o'clock?” asked Biggs as if sounding her out.

“We can’t treat you to a meal, but there’ll be plenty of snacks!” said Wedge.

“There’s something we want to show you,” said Jessie, releasing her from her embrace.

“What could it be?”

“Hmm, what could it be?” spoke all three in unison, as if they had plotted something out together.

She couldn't imagine where they were going, but couldn't think of any reason why she should refuse their invitation. After walking for almost half an hour, they arrived at a decaying house in the vicinity of the Midgar outer wall. It was in the Scrapyard. The interior was more spacious than it looked like from the outside.

There were already eight guests there before them, but there was still plenty of room to fit more people. She recognized a few faces. Were they her food stall customers, or maybe people either Biggs or Jessie knew and introduced her to?

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Jessie raised a hand to gather their attention, and then led Tifa to the center of the room. “This is my friend, Tifa Lockhart. Today is her 17th birthday. Please wish her a happy birthday!”

Biggs applauded and then the others present followed suit. Birthday wishes flew back and forth. Wedge whistled with his fingers in his mouth, but someone told him off. Apparently they were not to make any loud noises.

“Thank you so much.” She turned to each and every person and thanked them over and over again.

“Alright, shall we begin?” said an older gentleman.

The room fell silent. People shifted in their seats to face the far wall which was painted white. Spaced out a bit further from the wall was a desk with a movie projector on top. The model was an older type that they had had back in Nibelheim too. Maybe they were about to show something?

Just as she thought, the lights were dimmed, and shortly after, images were projected onto the wall. The scenery was in black and white, of a barren wasteland. In this wasteland stood a young man.

“I am Yuuri Romana, a mentor in the studies of Planetology. I would like to speak to you about the relationship between us and the Planet and of the Planet’s life. I'm sure those of you who are watching this video already know all of this, but please bear with me. To tell the story of our Planet’s life in my own words is, I believe, the only way to pass on the study of Planetology to future generations under this oppression.”

In the video, Yuuri Romana spent thirty minutes talking about the relationship between Planet life and human life. When a person dies, their body decomposes and returns to the earth. But the spirit is absorbed, and becomes a source of life, circling within the Planet and enriching it. Thus bringing new life into existence, and then returning to the earth’s surface. Life changes its form and dwells here and there, in everything. Life is eternal, and the Planet will be their eternal vehicle.

After the movie screening ended, the spectators quickly dispersed. At Jessie’s prompting, Tifa also headed home. On the way, they parted with Biggs and Wedge, and Tifa was alone with Jessie.

“So what’d you think?” asked Jessie.

“When people die, they disappear. Nothing is left. Since I always thought of it that way, I found the studies of Planetology fascinating.”

“Shinra Company’s the one who brought that up—That people disappear when they die. They've got it down to a science. Before them it was the Republic that taught us that when people die, God would condemn them to either Heaven or Hell. And way, way, way before them, the ideas from the study of Planetology were widely accepted.”

“Really?”

If that was what Jessie believed in, then she wanted to believe in it too. But something still didn’t feel right.

“In other words, what I’m trying to say is, your dad didn’t just disappear. His life force is with the Planet, and our hearts are connected with the Planet. If you have love for the Planet, then you’ll always be connected with your dad. I was just wondering if you might consider that.”

They stood in the silent darkness of Container Alley.

“Nibelheim is right here with you, and your dad is right here with you too.” Jessie cupped Tifa’s face in her hands. Her touch was warm. “You’re not alone.”

Tifa placed her hands on top of Jessie’s and said, “I haven't been alone since the day you first came here.”

Jessie’s eyes widened. Flustered, she broke away.

“Oh my god! That's so sweet of you to say!” She brought both of her hands up to her cheeks, looking extremely flattered. “Well, see ya!”

Jessie walked away, her cheeks still pressed in-between her hands.

Tifa realized that she had forgotten to check to see if Jessie was a member of Avalanche, but felt strongly that it didn’t matter.

※

“I managed to go to a few more screenings after that. Films with mentors speaking. They were always getting harassed by Shinra, so the location would change every time. Eventually, I came to believe that the ideas of the study of Planetology would take some of the pressure off of me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Red XIII, his voice mixed with growls.

“Not to mention my father, but the people of Nibelheim, the truth about the Nibelheim incident, all of that I have to carry on my back. I can’t ever forget. When I got so busy with my daily life that I did forget, or when I laughed out loud, I would suddenly feel guilty. That was the reason. But the answer is in the stars. And when I thought about that… When I realized I didn't have to face it alone, things got easier.”

“There are many differing interpretations of Planetology. Ideas that are different from mine.”

“Yeah. That's what I thought at the time. Because it made me feel better to think that way.”

※

As she was skimming out the scum from the simmered minced meat pot, Uncle said, “Did ya know about the explosion at the mako reactor in Corel?”

“Umm… Didn’t that happen a long time ago?”

“Yeah, there's been talk recently about it being the work of Avalanche. So I heard Shinra’s gonna send out their troops to hunt them down in the slums. Well, it doesn't really matter what reason they have for it, they’ll find one. And if they can’t find one, they’ll make one up.”

She pretended not to be affected, but barely managed to skim out the scum.

“Don’t get yourself involved.”

Looking up she was met with a dead serious look in Uncle’s eyes.

She hadn't talked to Jessie and the others in almost a month. Since she’d gotten to know them, this was the first time that there had been such a long absence. They couldn’t get a hold of her, and she didn’t even know where they lived. Looking back, she realized she had constantly been misled.

Tifa was awakened by an unusual presence outside her door. She had a good hunch who it could be and jumped to her feet. Opening the door, just as expected, she was greeted by Jessie. Blood ran down her cheeks.

“Sorry. I’m really sorry.” Jessie was short of breath. “I wasn’t planning on turning to you for help.”

“You can turn to me anytime.” Tifa drew her inside the room. Apparently she had been running the whole time. Once inside, Jessie slumped down on the floor, resting her back against the bed.

Tifa waited until her labored breathing subsided and then asked, “Are you with Avalanche?”

“Yeah.”

“Biggs and Wedge, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you couldn’t tell me where you live?”

That made Tifa upset.

“It’s because they might’ve come after you. Like they did to us today.”

“Does this have something to do with the Corel mako reactor?”

“What! You know a lot, huh?”

“Don’t treat me like a child!”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch!” Jessie pressed down on the side of her torso and grimaced.

“Were you shot at?”

“No. I took a hard blow jumping down from the roof. I went, like, WHAM! Don’t think I got shot at...”

When Tifa tried to go out and fetch a doctor, Jessie stopped her. There was a high chance clinics and hospitals had been marked by Shinra troops in order to catch injured Avalanche members. Is that the way things go? Tifa thought.

She went outside so that she could draw some water for Jessie to take painkillers she had with her. The alley was quiet tonight as usual. She had a vague feeling that people who lived in this side town were in some kind of trouble. Even if they heard some disturbance outside, they probably wouldn’t open their doors to look. Nervous that there might be Shinra troops around, she drew water and returned to her room.

Jessie, who should have been sitting upright, had collapsed onto the floor. Frightened, Tifa checked her for signs of breathing.

“It’s okay. She’s alive.”

The next morning, although still in pain, Jessie was able to talk like her usual self, so Tifa left for work. After they had finished their morning peak hours, she feigned sickness, complaining about a stomach ache and asked Uncle to let her off work. It being her first time, he was taken aback. With a look that said it was a hard decision, he allowed her to retire for the day.

Leaving the food stall, she made her way to Damini’s clinic. Here, too, she had to put on another act. After being kept waiting for a while, she was called into the examination room.

Tifa complained about having a bad fall and banging into something, and feeling pain in a sizable area around her chest. The pain had somewhat lessened this morning than last night, so Damini deemed it wasn't a fracture.

“I'll give you some painkillers. It's a strong drug, so only use it if the pain becomes unbearable. Observe for today and tomorrow. If the pain intensifies, or if the internal bleeding gets worse, then bring that person in to see me.”

“Huh?”

“There are no signs of physical bruising on your body. I would know; I’m a physician.”

Tifa cast her eyes downward, ashamed of herself. Cautiously raising her head, she noticed Damini watching her with a worried look on her face.

“The world is in turmoil. Don't get caught up in anything crazy.”

Thrown into confusion, Tifa fled from the hospital. She rushed back to Container Alley. The latch was still in place, but the lock was missing. She had a bad feeling. There was a letter left on the table next to her bedside.

Disappearing for a bit. Thanks. So sorry I left the door unlocked.

All the strength drained from her body.

“If you’re going to involve me, then keep me involved!” Tifa shouted into the empty container. She kicked and punched blindly into the air. “Damn it!”

Before the evening peak hours, she returned to the food stall. Uncle, exhausted, welcomed her back while grinning from ear to ear.

Feeling the joy of being needed, she worked furiously until she had the stall cleaned up and wiped down.

When she was almost eighteen years old, she came from work at night to her home in Container Alley. There was a crowd of people at the entrance of the road. She got the impression that they were curious onlookers. Moving closer she heard someone’s voice shout, “These guys are harboring Avalanche!”

Tifa pushed her way past the crowd and entered the alleyway.

A woman cried out, “I don’t have a clue! Haven’t seen him in ten years!”

She recognized the voice right away. It was Water Guard. Tifa squeezed herself through the crowd that had taken over the street. She was finally able to get to the front of the line, curses hailing on her left and right. Three Shinra troopers were there. They had their rifles thrust out at Water Guard who was cowering against the wall. Gatekeeper was slumped on the ground just in front. She rushed over to check on him.

“Take care of Aisha for me,” he said in labored breaths.

She was momentarily baffled. Aisha? And then it dawned on her that Aisha must be Water Guard’s real name. When she rose up, a Shinra trooper noticed her and aimed the muzzle in her direction.

“Halt! Hands up!”

There was a glint of light from the nightlight attached to his rifle. The weapon was small and black. If a bullet flew out and hit her, would it kill her? The hair on the back of her neck stood up. What the hell! Her knees trembled underneath her.

“She with you?”

“She’s got nothing to do with it! Nobody here does!” Water Guard shouted.

The security officer re-holstered his rifle. Tifa’s fingertips quivered as she watched him. The Shinra trooper had a sick grin on his face.

“This way!” She heard a voice shouting in the background. “He’s at the Main Street!”

Reacting to those words, the trooper in front of Water Guard struck her using the butt of his rifle. She groaned and collapsed to the ground. And then he and another officer with him slipped past Tifa and went back onto the road.

The last remaining officer shoved the nose of his rifle into the swelling of Tifa’s bosom. Humiliation and anger moved her. She [kicked up] and caught the trooper’s jaw with the tip of her foot. His head jerked back and the helmet fell off, exposing his bare face. He was still a boy. Probably even younger than her.

Tifa recoiled from him, and then someone yanked her by the arm. She lost balance and fell down onto her backside. A figure jumped over her. It was Gatekeeper. He rose up in front of the trooper, who was just a mere boy, and his hand moved horizontally across the boy's throat. Blood spurted out from it. She saw the glinting of a knife in Gatekeeper’s hand.

Shrieks erupt among the curious onlookers, and then she fainted.

Tifa awoke to Rakesh watching over her. The bed was hers and she was in her own room. She hurriedly got up.

"The Shinra boy?!"

"Gatekeeper carried him away somewhere. It’s his responsibility to dispose of the body.”

It would have been better if she hadn't asked.

"Where's Gatekeeper?"

"At my mom's. I don't think his injuries were too major."

"Thank goodness. I hope her son managed to get away."

"I heard he really is with Avalanche, but I doubt he’d actually come here tonight to begin with."

"But I heard someone shouting that he had escaped towards the street."

"That was my voice. I had to act quickly to try and get you out of trouble. It went surprisingly well and I was celebrating that, but then that had to happen… I was shocked.”

“Me too.” It suddenly occurred to Tifa. “I couldn’t suppress my emotions. No, it was like my body moved on its own.”

“I guess that's what it means to be strong.” That seemed to leave a deep impression on Rakesh.

“Master Zangan would not have approved.”

“That guy’s never around when you need him most. Hey, Tifa. Why don’t you go and take a shower?”

She didn’t want any arguments, so she got up from the bed. Her knees were still shaking, but not like how she felt when the trooper pointed his rifle at her. She couldn't support her legs with her mind still reeling from the gravity of the situation. Not wanting Rakesh to see her like that, she returned to the bed and covered her feet with the blanket.

“What’s it like outside?”

“There’s nobody out there. The onlookers disappeared, and I doubt the troopers will come back again. Manson probably talked it out with Shinra Company and put an end to the dispute.” And then he spat out, “Those Avalanche bastards! They put us through the wringer!”

Tifa clutched at her leather cord around her wrist, swallowing back her emotions.

“Hey, Rakesh?”

“What is it? You can tell me anything.”

“I want to be alone.”

Rakesh looked visibly upset. She wondered why. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t want to think about anything anymore.

※

“Learning martial arts, fighting, and how it can lead to a person's death. Things that are so obvious. Why didn’t I think things through?”

“You weren’t the one who killed him.”

“Yeah, I thought of it that way too. I tried to convince myself of that. But it's not like that. When we fight, we do so while staring at death in the face. Our opponent’s or our own. If we’re not prepared for that, we shouldn't be fighting. There must be something we want, something we wish to protect, even if it means taking a life. If we don’t have that, then, even after winning, the only thing left is regret. This is a price which is too great to pay for meager satisfaction.”

“Humans are troublesome creatures.”

“Yes, we are. Especially me.”

※

She didn’t miss a day of work. Only work was a solid assured reality. She wanted to maintain some sense of normalcy, or she would sink deeper into the darkness inside her heart.

But every day she passed by the place where the trooper—No, the boy—died, she couldn’t help but remember and think. She had to get out of here. She felt a strong sense of hope, different from the vague hope she had felt before.

“Hey, Rakesh?” She approached him for advice when she went in to receive her pay. “Do I have to live in that container forever?”

“No. Once you pay off your debt, you’re free to go anywhere you like.”

“Is that what Dr. Damini said?”

“No, it’s Manson. Manson’s rule.”

“What does Manson have to do with me? I mean, I’m really grateful to get work from him, but why would he do all this?”

“Because you couldn’t pay your medical expenses, my mom wasn’t able to pay off her own loan, so she went to borrow the money from Manson. You and I have been working at his stall to pay off the debt we incurred. According to Manson's rule, you can’t leave Container Alley or have the freedom to choose which job you do until you’ve repaid all your debt. The rules are pretty strict. Those who don’t abide by it face bloodshed.”

Tifa was stunned.

“So the money I hand over to you gets handed over to Manson?”

“Yep. In the end.”

“I wish you told me…”

“The amount is about the same, and, anyway, I didn’t think you were interested.”

“It’s not that I wasn’t interested. I just trusted you.”

Tifa clutched her leather bracelet.

“I’m pleased to hear that. I need your trust from now on too. It's going to be okay. If you maintain your current pace, you’ll be a free woman in less than three years.” Then Rakesh looked around, lowered his voice and said, “I think you can pay it off sooner by working at Wall Market. That's the thing, you see, you can't force it. But if you’re seriously thinking about it, let me know.”

Whatever trust she had in Rakesh was now gone.

She removed the bag that was hidden inside some clothes from the clothes bin. It was extremely heavy. Everything she had saved up since she had started working was in this bag. After checking to make sure the door was locked, she counted the money. With a pen and paper ready, she did her math, and started to see the possibility that it could be paid off in two years.

She didn't know where she was supposed to pay her debt—and, yes, the rules were absurd—but there was no point in making an issue now. She was the one who didn't check the details of her medical bills in the first place. She would come to terms with the things she did or didn't do, learn to accept them, and then show everyone how she was going to get out of this life. Two more years to get her life back on track.

For Tifa, that plan became her source of strength.

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts pgs 98-121

By the time they reached the empty lot near the Sector 8 train station, it was evening. Artificial lighting from the Slum’s “sun” must have already been adjusted to mimic natural sunlight. She wouldn’t have known the difference if she hadn’t been told. The dusky landscape was expanding.

Rakesh stretched out his arms and, by way of an introduction, said, “What you see here are freight cars being granted their second lives, all belonging to Manson Group. You’ll be doing business with that blue freight car over there.”

She spotted a freight car used to transport cargo, its exterior coated entirely in blue paint. Each one of the containers in Container Alleyway was spacious enough to fit in three cars.

Rakesh approached, slid the door open sideways and walked in, and then motioned for her. Tifa trotted over and followed him inside. The sudden spike in temperature and humidity made her flinch. Sweat broke out all at once. The sweet smell that filled the air stimulated her appetite.

The whole interior had been turned into a big kitchen with three women busily working—One was turning the stove on to heat up a stew pot, another was chopping vegetables on the central kitchen counter, and the other headed towards a counter close to the wall and began forcefully kneading dough. Nobody looked over in their direction.

“The lady over at the stew pot is Tororin. Handling the dough is Neriko. And Kiriko is the one chopping the veggies.”*

Names are all associated with cooking. For instance, Neriko or 練り粉 means “dough” in Japanese.

“Got it...”

“I don’t know their real names either.”—Rakesh lowered his voice.—“But if they don’t bring it up, don’t ask. That goes for anyone else here in Container Alleyway.”

“Alright. Um, will I be working here too?”

The work didn’t seem too bad.

“Nope. This is just where ingredients get prepped before going to get sold at stalls. Come on, we’re leaving.”

In the end, Tororin and her friends never once turned to look at her.

Once they were back outside, Rakesh slid open the door to another freight car.

“Over here is our office slash warehouse. Food stalls are taken out in the morning and returned at night. Today’s our day off, so see over there? That’s what I’m talking about.”

Peeking inside the dim freight car, she saw a food stall equipped with wheels and a signboard on top scrawled with the words: Sector 8 Steamed Buns.

“Sector 8 Steamed Buns…”

“Yep. Fluffy, soft buns filled with veggies and topped with sweet-and-spicy minced meat. Mm, delicious! The buns are, to put it mildly, a popular item.”

“I don't know if I can do this...”

“If you can’t, you can’t. We’ll think of something else. But for now, I hope you’ll convince yourself to do it.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll get specific instructions about your work from “Uncle” tomorrow. He’s been selling steamed buns for forty years.”

“F- Forty years?!”

“Yep. So it’s a traditional taste. I’m in charge of accounting though, so let’s talk about your salary.”

“Alright.”

“Your portion is 20% of the day’s profit. 20% goes to “Uncle”, 30% goes to the cooks, and the remaining 30% goes to Manson Group. The cost of the ingredients will be subtracted from there. One meat bun sells for 3 gil, so if you sell a hundred of them and your sales total 300 gil, then you'll get 60 gil from that."

“60 gil…”

Was that a lot or a little?

“As a salesgirl, you’d be making twice as much as what the cooks make. How much we sell depends on you, and that's why it’s so much harder.”

While Rakesh escorted her back to the Container Alleyway, Tifa immediately started calculating. Rent was 15 gil a day, and the shower, 3 gil per shower. Meals would be provided at the food stall, so she could count that as zero. So in one working day, she would have 42 gil all to herself. From that, if she makes small payments to Dr. Damini…

Tifa crunched the numbers in her head. But because she wasn’t very good with numbers, she had to work it out again and again, until she arrived at this conclusion: “It would take me 66 years to pay off?!” No, that can’t be right. She calculated one more time and ended up with the same numbers. There was no way in hell she could live in a dingy container eating only steamed buns to pay off her debt for the next 66 years!

The night dawned without her being able to sleep well due to anxiety and nervousness. In the spur-of-the-moment, Tifa left her room, intending to use 3 gil from the money Rakesh lent her to pay for a shower.

“I’d like to shower, please.”

“Have you come prepared?”

What she needed was determination not preparation.

“I’ll wrap myself in a towel and go in like that.”

“Virtually no one comes here at this time of day. If they do, I'll drive them away. Go ahead and bathe.”

“Thanks.”

“That’ll be 2 gil for the look out, which brings your total to 5 gil.”

She was shocked but not surprised.

“Must have been through some pretty bad things to wind up this deep in the heart of the slums. At least let yourself enjoy a nice shower,” said Water Guard while accepting the money.

Tifa was grateful enough to be able to shower, but the water was surprisingly hot for the living conditions in the heart of the slums. As she stood under the hot shower, she felt a calm settle over her.

Her partner was waiting for her as she wandered toward the warehouse near the station. He was a pale and little old man, decked conspicuously in bright red from top to bottom, with salt-and-pepper hair that was cropped close to his scalp, which he scratched at as he ogled Tifa.

“Alright, you pass. Follow me.”

The old man turned his back on her and started walking towards the freight car office-warehouse from yesterday evening.

“Just call me ‘Uncle’. You’re Tifa, right? Wanna stay as-is or should I pick out a trade name for ya?”

Uncle turned around, his gaze lingering again.

“Lessee… We could call you…” His eyes paused at her chest. She felt a sense of foreboding.

“That’s okay. I prefer to use my real name.”

“You sure? Ah well.” Uncle’s shoulders drooped. He picked up the pace and entered the warehouse.

“We’re getting the food stall out,” he said, but didn’t lift a finger to help. Fortunately, it was lighter than she expected, and Tifa was able to bring it out without too much trouble.

“Next we’ll load it up with ingredients for the steamed buns. Wonder if the cookhouse has it all ready.”

Tifa guessed that she would be doing that work alone as well. They headed close to the entranceway of the blue freight car where they collected the vegetables and other ingredients, as well as the pot loaded with the simmered minced meat. The pot was heavy.

The ladies working the kitchen didn’t bother to return her greeting.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Uncle, but did not move to her aid.

“Try towing it.”

There was a large u-shaped handle at the front of the food stall. She shimmied inside of it and used her hands and stomach to push it forward.

It was similar to the handcarts used in her village. When she was small, she used to ride on top of the load-carrying tray for fun, while Taylor pulled her along. Or maybe it was Lester?

The food stall loaded up with everything was heavy. As she pummeled her body forward using her core strength, she felt a sharp pain spreading in her chest.

“You alright?”

Uncle peered into her face, worried. Maybe he was actually a nice guy.

“You’re white as a sheet. Did you get any sleep?”

“No, not really.”

“Aw, come on! Our goal’s to sell five hundred today!”

“Isn’t it supposed to be...one hundred?”

“If that’s all you can sell then this business ain’t right for you. Our last guy sold up to a thousand a day.”

“In one day?!”

“Damn right! But since it’s your first day, I'm cutting you some slack and dropping it down to five hundred.”

“One thousand…”

If that was possible, then she would make ten times more than she had thought she would. In that case, she’d be able to pay off her debt in seven years rather than sixty-six years. That would still take a long time, but it wasn’t too far into the future.

“Alright, I’ll do it! Wish me luck!”

Tifa lifted her head and drew the food stall. Suddenly, everything felt lighter.

※

"Now that I think about it, I can’t believe how hard I worked based on that.”

Tifa stared at Red XIII beside her. The crimson-colored beast was laying flat on the grass, his face turned away. On closer inspection, she noticed small tremors over his entire body.

“Hey, are you laughing at me?!”

“No,” he replied, but his voice was shaking too. “So did you manage to sell one thousand?”

“I’m not telling.”

※

The usual location for selling the Sector 8 Steamed Buns was furthest away from the front of the train station. After anchoring down the stall, preparations began. Uncle’s method of teaching was making her put things into practice.

First, he had her heat up the water for the steamer pot and bring to a boil. Then, she had to arrange the ingredients neatly on a plate for the customer to see. Heat up the pot with the minced meat on low heat to keep it constantly piping hot. Before the water for the steamer pot came to a boil, the buns needed to be placed in the steamer, and then she would get the wrapping paper ready.

"Work your way backwards, and make sure it's steaming by the time the store opens. Now go and stand over there."

Tifa held onto the handle and towed the food stall with her to where he had indicated.

“Take those gloves out of the drawer and put them on. The steamed buns will be piping hot.”

She found the gloves and put them on.

“Now [parchment] paper goes on your left hand with the steamed bun resting on top. Gotta hold on even if it burns. Secure it with your thumb. With the knife in your right hand, make a slit in-between to create a lid and plate for the filling, leaving the hinges so that the steamed bun doesn't fall apart. Got it? It’s gotta open and close like a clam shell. And don’t cut your fingers.”

Uncle spat out his explanations quickly as Tifa fumbled to do as she was told.

“Alright, looks like you cut it right. Now, lay out the split steamed bun on a lettuce leaf and ladle some minced meat on top. Ask your customer to pick out three different fillings of their choice. Load those in, bring the steamed bun closed by folding in the paper wrapping, and hand it to the customer. They might ask to buy two or three, but make only one at a time. Also, hand over only one steamed bun at a time. The customer’s the one who needs to get their container or bag ready for you. You don’t need to worry about anything except making the sales. Listen to orders, make the steamed bun, and then hand it to them. Hoo boy, that’s too much juice. Be careful. If you don’t get the balance right, the flavor will be too strong, and it’ll taste like a cheap knock-off.”

The steamed bun dripping with juice was completed.

“Have a taste.”

She took a bite, and then another. The sweet and spicy flavors exploded in her mouth. The vegetables had a nice crunch to them. It had a familiar taste.

“It’s delicious.”

“Tastes like hometown cooking, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s my first time having this, but...you’re right, it does seem that way.”

“My ma came up with the recipe. No matter where you’re from, it’s a taste you’ll always miss. That’s some kind of magic.”

Uncle chuckled. Her impression of him may have changed from when they first met.

As preparations were completed a crowd of people gathered. Tifa pulled back. Aside from the one area in the slums, it seemed the rest didn’t have a working water supply. It was also apparent that most slum dwellers didn’t have a habit of cooking food at home, and dining out was the norm. Especially with people rushing during the mornings, fast food like the “Sector 8 Steamed Buns” were in great demand.

"Okay, this is it, Tifa. You're up first."

"Huh?"

The first customer dropped three coins into the bowl signaling the start of her first day.

“Go on. Take that paper to the steamed bun first. If there’s moisture on your hands, the paper will get sticky,” Uncle told her.

She rushed towards the steamed buns, grabbed a sheet of paper. A customer pointed to the ingredients of his choice: Bell peppers, nuts and celery. She almost reached for the bell peppers first, but remembered steamed buns came first and hurriedly grabbed one from the pile in the steamer.

“Ouch!”

Even with the gloves on, the steamed bun felt hot to the touch, and she accidentally dropped it.

“I’m so sorry!” she said. But the customer’s expression remained unchanged. His eyes were on the simmering pot.

“Paper to steamed bun. Knife, and slit open. Lettuce leaf, minced meat, fillings, close it up, then hand over,” murmured Uncle from the back. “But before that, take a deep breath.”

Tifa was startled by his words. That’s right. Breathing is important. She took a deep breath. Slowly and steadily—Inhale, then exhale. That drew the customer’s attention, and he watched her.

“Oh, excuse me!”

“Hang in there, Newcomer!” said the customer with a smile.

Tifa bowed deeply, and then grabbed a steamed bun, placing it rapidly on the paper. This was the start of her battle.

Business hours were from six-thirty in the morning until eight o’clock in the evening. Breaktime could be taken whenever there was less foot traffic, but the first two hours in the morning, the three hours after lunch, and the three hours at night until the store closed were the peak hours for sales. The first two hours of the first day were a disaster, but by the time lunch peaked, she'd gotten the hang of it.

Rhythm and breathing. That was what it was all about. Just like the Zangan School of Martial Arts. Creating a flow with her legs, hips and back, she moved her hands. It didn’t feel too bad, and there wasn’t any pain. They sold 88 in the morning and 120 in the afternoon. That gave her a sense of accomplishment. When it wasn’t peak hours, Tifa switched places with Uncle, and he took over sales.

There was a folding chair she could sit on, but there was no time to rest. She needed to keep an eye out for customers and determine how many steamed buns were needed. Not quite sure yet on what to do, she waited for instructions.

At two o’clock in the afternoon, Uncle offered her a steamed bun loaded with ingredients.

“Your lunch. The first two are free. Anything after that, I’m gonna have to charge you.”

Tifa was starving. Struggling against the heat, she quickly devoured the steamed bun.

She had her confused moments, but thought she was doing pretty well. Her body didn’t hurt either. Her chest, which had been troubling her, seemed okay. Even so, she couldn’t make it until the evening peak hours. Her legs were sore all over and felt like boulders. Her arms felt heavy too. It was the same feeling she had had after completing several volumes of the Book of Secrets.

It took Tifa so long to receive customers’ orders and hand it over that even she felt their frustration. She dropped, she spilled, and the list of mishaps kept growing and growing. Uncle, who couldn’t bear to stand by and watch, told her to switch places with him.

“It’s okay. I can do this.”

“No, it’s not. You keep messing up.”

It was exactly as he said. She moved aside, hanging her head in frustration and disappointment.

“You’ve got a nice set of muscles. Guess you lack stamina. Thought you’d be a great way to attract customers though.”

Uncle’s harsh words pierced her.

“Just go home for now. If you can come tomorrow, then come. If not, then we’ll leave it at that. Don’t have time to teach you everything.”

Shortly after returning to her container, Rakesh paid her a visit. He had gone to the food stall to give her moral support and got wind of the situation. She didn’t want to see anyone. All she wanted to do was to hide under the covers. But how could she do that to Rakesh? She couldn’t treat him that way.

“How are you feeling? Want my mom to see you?”

“I’m fine. The wound isn’t hurting. All I need is a good night’s rest.”

“Oh yeah? So you think you can continue? Uncle was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I have to keep going.”

“Tifa, I’m sorry we couldn’t exempt you from your medical expenses. This has been tough for my mom too.”

“I don’t want it to be.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m glad to hear you say that. Here, I brought this for you. You can have it.”

It was Zangan’s Martial Arts Secret Handbook, Volume 2.

“I have it memorized already.” After leaving her with those words, he went home.

“I have it memorized too, you know.”

Without opening the book, she traced out the forms. No.2-1-1. The next form, No.2-1-2. Then, No.2-1-3. Her body moved of its own accord. Everything would be okay. Education was something that no one could take away from her.

She felt her spirits lifting, and it soon became clear to her why it was so difficult for her to move around earlier in the evening. The sudden, strong burden exerted on areas that were half-dormant must have been what caused her body to protest. From morning till noon, her nervousness had masked whatever it was that was wrong with her. When evening came and the nervousness had eased, the symptoms became more apparent. She was sure of it.

Once calm, she noticed the slightly sweet smell of broth that was coming from her. She could use a shower. Might be a good idea to wash her clothes too, but how? She needed a change of clothes. However, she drifted off to sleep without having done any of it.

The next morning, after a full night of sleep, she awoke feeling refreshed. It was still early, before the break of dawn. Slowly and tentatively, she stretched. Stretching out her muscles felt good. She hopped off the bed and did some light knee-bending. No problem there. An image suddenly popped in her head of the standing-on-one-leg pose from the exercise that Zangan had first demonstrated in the village square.

“Go on living until the day you die,” she spoke aloud. “Obviously!”

She felt lighter. Today, she might attempt to finish a whole day’s work.

No one else was in the vicinity of the shower area except Water Guard. After paying the 3 gil to enter the container, she noticed the interior had changed. The far end of the fifth shower was concealed with a blue curtain. On the curtains, painted in yellow letters, was the word "LADIES". Surprised, she glanced outside the container and found Water Guard smirking.

"If you wanna use the shower in the back, it's 4 gil."

"Whaaat?"

"Morning and night will cost 5 gil. You pay in full in the morning."

The proposal was tempting, and she understood how it worked. The rental fee was Water Guard’s asking price.

“Alright. Then I’ll go back to get the money.”

“It’s dawn. Today’s on the house. Go ahead and freshen up.”

Continuing her second day of battle, she sold 400 steamed buns. But this food stall sold 1,000 before Tifa came into the picture. Uncle congratulated her on making it to the end of her shift, but he wasn’t happy with the sales.

“How well we do depends on how much is sold during the mornings, afternoons and evenings. The time combined is a total of 480 minutes, or 28,800 seconds. Selling only 400 buns means I took 72 seconds per bun. Over one whole minute. What do I need to change in order to be able to sell 1,000?” Tifa asked Uncle while trying hard to calculate. “28.8 seconds?”

“Just about. Since you’ll be selling outside of peak hours too, I’d say… you can make it if you can sell one every 30 seconds.”

“30 seconds…”

That shrunk the time down to less than a half of what it was. Would it be possible?

“You move around at a much slower, small town pace. Here in the big city, you gotta be quick. Just have to be. I bet you can sell 1,500 buns a day.”

One per every 20 seconds. Would she be able to keep up with that kind of work pace? The moment the question left her mouth, Uncle narrowed his eyes.

“We should grab more customers during non-peak hours. Listen, how do customers who come to our food stalls choose the day’s meal? Seven food stalls gather here: Sweet-and-spicy Nostalgic Sector 8 Steamed Buns, Tantalizingly Mild-Flavored Sector 5 Steamed Buns, Energizing Sector 6 Grill, Chic and Trendy Slum Sandwiches, Healing Veggie Soup, Hearty Oil Porridge, Togarashi Noodles for Newcomers. Sure customers have their preferences, but most will eat basically anything. As long as they come here they’re guaranteed to grab something to eat. So that’s not their criteria for choosing. Instead it’s the store that has the fastest turnaround. A store without a line is no good. One that has a line but is quick to serve wins,” he whispered to her in a hushed tone as if he was divulging a major secret.

She couldn’t help being drawn into it.

“However, all the stores know that, so they won’t slack off. So what determines it then? The vendor. It's the charm of the vendor that draws the customers. Do you know what your charm is?”

“My charm…”

“No need for humility. It’s that sweet face of yours! And I don't know if you're an adult or a child with that—” Uncle quickly sized her up from her feet to her face.

“Well, I don't know how that makes you feel—happy or disgusted—but whether you’re male or female, appearances matter in sales. And to prove it, notice how it didn’t matter how slow you were, you still kept getting customer after customer. So if you can cut down on the time you spend on each person, 1,500 isn’t out of reach.”

※

“In the end, I made up my mind to do it. A part of me didn’t want to for many reasons, but it was so much fun being able to sell all those steamed buns. I had to figure out a way to shave off a second or two, be creative in how I arranged the plates, and practice my knife skills. Like doing my exercises or martial arts. I think I'm good at those things because I’m quick to concentrate. And Uncle may have had a bad habit of choosing the wrong words, but he didn’t seem like such a bad guy. He judges people based on their work skills, which is a lot easier to understand. That’s what I liked about him.”

“I want to try one of those steamed buns,” said Red XIII, nearly salivating.

“It’s really tasty, but to this day... I still don’t know what meat they used in the simmered minced meat,” said Tifa with a shrug.

“Never mind. I think I’ll pass. So did you increase your sales after that?”

“Yeah, after about four months? A little before my sixteenth birthday. 1,003 buns. It made me feel accomplished.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“And then my birthday came. The first birthday where not a single person wished me a happy birthday. It felt a bit depressing, but I made new connections instead.”

※

The following week after her birthday, on a Wednesday which was closing day for the food stall, she visited Dr. Damini’s clinic for her monthly follow up.

First would be her exam, where there would be a simple medical consultation, followed by palpating over the graft site. Lastly they would take photos of the areas around her chest because she had been told that they were working on a new treatment, and many doctors and their staff would be looking over the photos. Even if her face wasn’t shown, it was difficult for her.

“Right now, the bruised areas will gradually assimilate to your natural skin color. It’s already assimilated much more than after the surgery. You notice it too, don’t you?”

It certainly did look that way.

“But…” Damini’s face clouded over. “Right here,”—Damini traced with her finger over Tifa’s upper abdomen—“this area might need another skin transplant. Possibly due to the reinforced metal underneath.”

“Is that so?”

“Maybe you can consider it in due time.”

“Hell no!” shouted a voice from the other side of the wall.

Tifa rushed to put on her clothes. There was a patient in the hospital room causing a disturbance. Damini let her know that her medical exam was over and left the room. After getting fully dressed and heading out of the clinic, she heard Rakesh call for her.

“Hey, Tifa! I need your help!”

“With?”

“There’s this patient that refuses to do the same skin grafting procedure that you did. I want you to talk to her since you’ve gone through it okay.”

“Are you sure I can do it?”

“It’ll be fine. Oh, but don’t tell her any details about how you ended up with that wound. She’s well-connected, so the message will get out quickly. Oh, and don’t mention your job either.”

“Why not?”

“Hmm. She’s from Sector 7. Don’t want you to interact with those folks too much. Come on, let’s go.”

She was still in a state of confusion as he led her to the hospital room. In the bed that she had slept on half a year ago was an old woman, laying face down, wearing a nightgown that was exposed at the back. Her wound was wrapped with gauze and blood had seeped through. Damini, who was standing beside the bed at her wit’s end, stared over at Tifa.

“This patient’s name is Marle. She ran into some bad luck. Got attacked by a monster,” introduced Rakesh in a mild tone. “Her back is seriously injured. We recommended that she do the skin grafting procedure, but…”

“Just stitch me up. Don’t try to attach any of that weird stuff to me!”

Her gaze pierced at them.

“In five years, it’ll become just another part of you,” said Damini. “This young lady here got the same procedure done half a year ago. Look. Here are the photos from the recovery process.”

Tifa sucked in her breath. Damini was showing Marle the printouts of her exposed chest.

“I don’t wanna see that! Get that outta my face!”

Damini put the photos away with a vague smile.

“Hey, Tifa!” shouted Rakesh. “You only felt pain in the beginning right?”

“Yes, only in the beginning.”

“No itchiness or discomfort, right?”

“Nope. None at all.” She clutched the leather cord around her wrist, suppressing her emotions.

“Enough with the shameless advertising!” cried Marle. “I want to talk to Tifa alone.”

Damini and Rakesh exchanged glances. After a while, Damini nodded.

“Alright. But please refrain from sharing personal information between patients.”

The two of them exited the hospital room, leaving behind the two women who had just met for the first time.

“What do they think women's breasts are?” spat out Marle. “I’m sorry. Because of all my grumbling, you had to go through something so humiliating.”

“It’s nothing.” But she was happy that there was someone there who understood her. “You took me by surprise though.”

“How’d you get hurt in the first place?”

“Umm, I think that might fall under personal info.”

“Alright, then whisper it to me.”

Marle smirked.

“I was attacked by a bad guy with a sword. I'm afraid I can't give you any details because they’re afraid their friends will find out.”

She thought that was a pretty good explanation.

“You don’t say… So you managed to escape? That's tough. So you’re not from the slums?”

“No, from the countryside.”

“Any family?”

“I have none.”

“That must be heartbreaking. How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“What do you do for a living? Do you work at Wall Market?”

She was vaguely aware of the poor reputation that place in Sector 6 had.

“I do not!”

“Judging by that tone of voice, you know what I'm talking about. A beautiful woman like you can make as much money as you want there. The stores that use you make dozens of times more money. You’ll be exploited and tossed out when they’re done with you. If you’re prepared for that then by all means go. But it’s not the kinda place you want to get swept up in.”

“I have no intentions of going there.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“That's not true.”

“You’re a bit of a pushover aren’t you? You tend to adapt to the moods of the people around you.”

She was right.

“I’m the same type of personality as you, so we understand each other. Luckily, I’m a good person—Ow, ow, ow!”

Marle suddenly cried out in pain.

“Are you okay?!”

“That’s what I get for lying.”

There was a knock at the door. After they responded, Rakesh entered the room.

“Are you in any pain?”

“Yeah, so hurry up and do the procedure on me. I want to have a new skin like Tifa’s.”

“Are you sure?!”

“Better hurry up before I change my mind. Oh, and Tifa? Come see me again. I don’t have any friends who’d come to visit me.”

Three month passed. On her days off she visited Marle at the clinic. Marle no longer tried to probe into her background. Instead, she taught her plenty of slum lessons. Marle herself managed some apartments in the Sector 7 slums, but was pressured by Shinra Company to relocate due to rezoning. While searching for new property, she got too close to the outer wall and was attacked by a monster.

“They told me not to go anywhere near the outside of the property and to stay in the middle. Guess I learned that lesson the hard way.”

There was a lot of talk like that: Adventure stories from when she was fifteen, tales from when she used to work at Wall Market, and the time she played a role in running the Neighborhood Watch. It was her way of comforting a lonely young girl on the run from her hometown, which made Tifa happy. Marle would not stop talking until either Rakesh or Damini warned her.

“Have you made any friends?” Marle would inquire about this whenever Tifa was getting ready to leave.

“Yes, I have.” Tifa would always tell her the same answer.

But that ended abruptly when Marle left the hospital.

“She was discharged early and said to say hi to you,” Rakesh told her. That was the last she heard from her.

She hoped that they might meet when Marle came for her follow-up visits, but her wish wasn’t fulfilled. Days of nothing but work began again.

After a full day of business and cleaning up the food stall, it was 8:30 pm. She grabbed something to eat for dinner on the way back to her container, and after finishing her meal, reviewed all the kata she could do by herself from the Book of Secrets. After taking a shower, there was nothing else to do. Even though she felt tired and relaxed after the nice workout, she had trouble falling asleep. Her mind began to be plagued with fragmented and incomplete memories.

It was still good when she thought of her hometown because even though it made her feel lonely, she felt it was her duty to remember the scenery, the days she spent there, the smiling faces of the people, and their anger over unreasonable things. On the other hand, when she thought about her future, she felt melancholy. It would be several years before she finished paying off her debt.

※

“After Marle was gone, my life became empty. Everyday was just selling steamed buns and smiles, wallowing in depression on days off, and going to pay off debt on payday. Right. I was steadily paying off my debt. When I sold 1,000 buns daily, I was able to pay off around 14,000 gil a month. However, I usually sold more than that, and since I didn't have too many living expenses, I was able to put some money aside.”

She even counted the money accumulated that she had stuffed inside a satchel and hid in her clothes bin.

“But it was still stressful. When I complained about it, Uncle just laughed and said we were like a squeaking part in the Midgar machine. But I didn’t find it funny at all.”

Red XIII let out a low growl. Perhaps out of sympathy for her.

“But, guess what? It became more lively when I turned seventeen.”

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 73-98

The first thing she saw when she awoke was a painted white ceiling. First, Tifa moved only her eyes. Next, she craned her neck to look at the interior of the room.

On the wall to the right hung a clock which read 3:15. But was it morning or afternoon? To her left was a white sheet used as a wall partition that obstructed her view. She turned to her right once more. Next to her head was a metal device emitting a low humming sound. Several tiny lights flickered. The number on the digital display indicated 72. The slim cable connected to the apparatus went up towards the ceiling, then back down, passed through a hook in the stand, and then disappeared underneath her blanket.

She tried moving the fingers on her right hand, but couldn’t apply enough pressure. When she brought her hand up above her face, a thin tube secured to her forearm with tape moved up along with it.

“Eugh!” It was meant as a cry of pain but the sound that escaped was almost guttural. Her throat ached. Had she lost her voice? Realization slammed her along with the pain.

I’m alive.

Yes, she should have been dead. She recalled the twisted face of the man everyone had called a hero.

She heard the sound of the door opening on the other side of the partition.

“May I come in?” came a soft, female voice as the partition slid open. Standing before her was a largely built woman with dark brown skin wearing a white lab coat.

“Hello. Nice to meet you. My name is Damini Orange, and this is my clinic. I’m sure you have many questions but your checkup comes first.”

The moment she finished speaking, Damini drew towards the apparatus by her bedside and fiddled with it.

“Can you tell me your name and age?”

“Tifa…”—she managed to squeeze out with difficulty—“Lockhart. Fifteen years old.”

“Correct. Are you feeling any pain?”

“My chest…No, everywhere hurts.”

“Alright. Now do you feel chest pain on the outside?—Inside? Where exactly does it hurt?”

“Outside. I don’t know, maybe inside too…”

“Noted. But we can’t give you anymore painkillers. If the pain worsens we’ll have to come up with some other way.”

Damini appeared to be around the same age as her father.

Oh… Papa… There was no question as to why tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

Damini shook her head apologetically.

No, that’s not it. It wasn't the painkillers she wanted.

“Anyway I’m glad you woke up. Your data looks all clear. Now then, maybe I should explain the situation to you?”

Tifa gave a small nod.

“You received a laceration caused by some sort of sharp-edged object. Most likely a sword. Around this area of your chest, from here”—Damini pointed underneath her left collarbone and dragged her finger down and across towards the bottom of her right breast—“to here, the wound is very deep. The injury crushed a piece of your sternum, but didn’t puncture any of your lungs or internal organs. I suppose that’s some consolation. Now, compression fractures are usually common in the sternum, but your case is unusual. We replaced the missing bone with synthetic grafts, and right now it’s being reinforced with metal wire. This wire will stay on for the rest of your life. Well, that’s with today’s medical technology. Oh, but it won’t interfere with your daily life. Also, your chest still needs to be kept secured in place so we’re having you wear a corset. We’ll gradually loosen the pressure on it, but it may cause pain for some time.”

Damini nodded sympathetically.

“Right. The procedures completed so far were done by Dr. Shillong from Corel Town. You haven’t met him yet, but he’s an extraordinarily skilled doctor. I’m here for post-op general care and to do skin-grafting. Not only was it a huge laceration, but since there was a scar left from the operation, I made the judgement call. You’re a young girl after all. We felt the surgery had to be done right away while the wound hadn’t healed yet. Of course, we were worried you might get an infection, but there doesn’t seem to be any problems. Oh, yes. The transplanted tissues are the latest medical product. It may take about three to four years to assimilate with your natural skin, but you’re young so I imagine it might be shorter than that. The cause of the pain outside your chest is due to this transplant. It’s just like a burn, but don’t worry. It will go away in time. The color should also begin to look more like your surrounding skin. Do you have any questions?”

There was so much information coming at once that Tifa couldn’t quite grasp everything that was said.

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now. We’ll keep you here for about half a month, so there’s no need to rush. Just know this. You’re a survivor, and you’re gonna go on living. The past is in the past. I want you to think about the future as much as possible.”

“Doctor…” Her voice came out hoarse. “I feel like I’ve slept for so long. What day is it? Where am I?”

“This is the Sector 8 slums. Now is—”

She was stunned upon hearing the date. Damini wiped Tifa’s face with a moist gauze, and then circled around to her feet and lightly patted her ankle.

“Let’s work hard together!”

When she was alone, Tifa thought back to her burning hometown. So one whole month had passed since these eyes which had stung from the black smoke had gazed upon Nibelheim.

“One whole month…”

A month ago, driven by the flames, her father urged her to escape to the waterfall basin. He pushed Maru, whom he had been holding, into her arms and told her, “Stay here! There’s nothing that can burn here, so the fire won’t come this way. But if the wind changes, the smoke might. If that happens, lay down low and let it pass.”

“Papa, what about you?”

“Zonder was killed. I’m the only surviving advisor. I have to fulfill my duties.”

“No!”

“Don’t look like that. I have to rescue those who are injured.”

Her father rejected her pleas, and just as he stated, ran off toward the burning village, bringing over one injured person after another. But from what she could see these people did not appear to be alive. They were covered in so much soot that she couldn’t tell if they were people she even knew. Their hair and clothing had been burned away, and she couldn’t look directly at them.

It was then that Zangan appeared, carrying two people on each of his shoulders. He laid them on the ground, looked at Tifa, and then nodded before running off again.

Her father crouched over the bodies. The pitch-black figures wailed with grief. Their arms, as if seized by something, reached up into the air, but fell back to the ground like puppets whose strings were cut.

“Dammit! Damn it all!”

She had never heard her father curse before. His face, stained with soot and sweat, glistened in the fire. He looked at Tifa with bloodshot eyes.

“Sephiroth went into the mountains. I’ll go talk to him.”

Brian nodded emphatically, and then took off running toward the mountains. Go there for what? Talk to him about what? He’s gone mad!

“Papa!”

Tifa clutched Maru to her bosom and ran out of the waterfall basin. She saw her father’s back going toward the mountains.

“Papa, wait!”

She chased after him, but struggled to run with Maru in her arms. Her father kept receding into the distance. Once she reached the mountain gate, Maru jumped from her arms and meowed as if to scold her. Or perhaps, pleading with her not to go any further.

“Maru, I’m sorry.”

She crossed the mountain gate and went into the mountains. No matter how far she wandered, there was no sight of her father anywhere. Instead, she saw the carcasses of monsters scattered along the road, cut down by a single stroke of the blade. She thought of Sephiroth's long sword, the same one he had used to strike down the villagers.

“Papa!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. But there was no answer.

Finally, she reached the mako reactor. The entrance to the reactor was wide open.

“Papa?!”

An Insect Chimera suddenly appeared in front of her. She evaded the hulking creature’s flying attack. Without hesitation, she drove her fist up into its abdomen, sinking into and splitting open the soft flesh, staggering it to the ground. Tifa then jumped up, curled her knees to her chest, and then forcefully stretched out her legs to dive straight down on its abdomen, digging into its gut with the heels of her boots. The movements were rapid. She had chained together a set of forms she learned from the Book of Secrets.

But there was something else her training did not prepare her for. Her whole body, even her hair, was covered in the monster’s body fluids. The stench was horrible.

“Wah!” She panicked.

“Tifaaa!” Someone called for her. A man’s voice. It sounded so familiar, but she couldn’t tell who it was. It wasn’t her father.

“Papa! Papa!”

“Tifa?”

This time it was a woman's voice. Someone poked at her cheek.

“Who are you?!”

She turned around to find a monster with a human-like figure.

“No!”

The ground began to shake.

“Tifa, wake up! Calm down. It’s only a dream. Come on back.”

The gaping entranceway to the mako reactor disappeared.

So bright. She closed her eyes, then opened her eyes. Was it something that really happened or was it from her imagination?

“Good morning. You’re safe here.”

Her nightmare was over. There was Damini’s face in front of the dazzling lights. On the wall to her right was a window, and light seeped through from the other side of the curtains.

“Is it morning?”

“Seven o’ clock in the morning. The light source is coming from the slum’s sun though.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a huge lamp that lights up the Slums. You should go and take a look when you're able to go outside. Now then, it’s time for your checkup. Can you tell me your name and age? And for today, your birthplace as well.”

“Tifa Lockhart. Fifteen years old. Nibelheim.”

“Do you remember my name?”

“Dr. Damini Orange.”

“Correct. Are you feeling any pain?”

“Umm… There’s this throbbing pain on my chest. On my wrists and ankles too.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to put up with that. We’re planning to decrease your dosage of painkillers.”

Damini examined her face intently.

“I have a question for you. Do you remember the details of how you came to be here?”

“If it’s about the man who struck me with his sword, then yes. I won’t forget for the rest of my life.”

“I see…”

“It was Sephiroth. Sephiroth from Soldier. In the mako reactor, he turned his blade on me.”

Damini nodded absentmindedly. “As of now, can I ask you to keep that to yourself around here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to get myself involved in that incident.” Damini lowered her head apologetically. Seeing that made Tifa’s anger flare up.

“What do you mean, get you involved?”

“Shinra Company doesn’t know that you’re here. We’ve treated your injuries and looked after you. That’s already pushing it. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t want to hear anything about this incident. I can’t do anything that might make them think I’m working in opposition to them. Cooperation with Shinra Company is very important for us to provide the latest medical care in the Slums. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Alright…”

She had tubes going through her body. What other option did she have?

“Doctor, when can I leave the hospital?”

Damini lowered her eyes, appearing uncomfortable with the question. Tifa wondered what other problems there might be.

“There are three conditions you need to meet before we can discharge you. One, the skin fusion must progress to level 3 or higher. Two, regain muscle strength to allow for minimal daily activities. Three, you will need to pay for all your medical expenses and hospitalization, which amounts to—”

Damini mentioned an absurd sum of money. A chill crept up Tifa’s spine.

“I- I don’t have any money…”

“Figures.” Damini silently gazed out the window. “You don’t have a place to live either, do you?”

Why was this happening? While she was lying unconscious, the world around her had changed so drastically and in an unimaginably horrible way.

“For now, let’s work on steps one and two, okay? Skin and muscle strength. Nourishment for the skin, and rehabilitation to help you regain muscle strength. My son, Rakesh, will assist you.”

It was three days later when she first met Rakesh face-to-face. Rakesh had inherited the same hair and skin tone as his mother. He had a handsome nose and pleasant voice.

“Hi there, Tifa. My name is Rakesh Orange. I’m here to help with your rehabilitation. My mom told you, right? Here, a present for you as a token of our friendship.”

Rakesh grabbed her wrist and shoved a soft rubber ball into her hand.

“In your spare time, squeeze this. It will help you to regain grip strength. But if you experience any pain, then skip it. Alright. Oh, and one more thing. Squeeze with one hand, and then the other.”

Rakesh brought his hands up next to his face and demonstrated for her. She burst out laughing.

“Hey, I like your smile. Now how about we do our best to help you get discharged as soon as possible?”

She replied yes, but perhaps her expression was gloomy. It did not escape Rakesh’s notice.

“You’re worried about the money, aren’t you? Heard about it from my mom. I think I can help with that. My mom lost her cushy life up top, but I was born and raised here in the slums. I know a thing or two about making a living here. Let’s just say that I know people,” said Rakesh proudly.

But unable to understand half of what was said, the uncertainty gnawing at Tifa didn’t go away.

“Come on. Just trust me.”

Well, she didn’t have any other choice.

They had switched her to a softer corset. Her bones hadn’t completely healed yet, but Rakesh had her start on her rehabilitation, targeting methods for regaining muscle strength that wouldn’t cause more strain on her injuries. They were to work on grip strength, walking and running ability, and stretching.

“The muscle loss was bound to happen. We'll just have to take our time helping you to restore it. You were inactive for so long that on the one hand, your nerves forgot how to take orders, and on the other, your muscles forgot how to move. Your body needs to learn all over again.”

Rakesh elevated Tifa’s ankles and calves to relieve the tension.

“Phew, it’s hot.”

Half a month had passed since Tifa started her rehabilitation. Rakesh wiped off beads of sweat from his brow. He had removed his jacket and was wearing only a short-sleeve t-shirt. The supple muscles of his arms protruding from his sleeves were beautiful.

Tifa looked down at her own wrist. The leather strap from Zangan was there but slightly darker than she had remembered it. Rakesh was also wearing something similar on his wrist.

“Rakesh, are you one of Master Zangan’s acquaintances?”

He gave her a stunned look, and then nodded his head again and again in understanding.

“Right. You haven’t been told how you came to be here, have you?”

And so, while helping her to raise and lower her legs, Rakesh started to talk.

“Yes, I’m one of Master Zangan’s students. You really don’t remember anything that happened after you got injured, do you?”

“No, not much. I mean, not at all, really.”

What Tifa could remember was Zangan's reproachful voice shouting for her to “Live!", Dr. Shillong’s grave expression, and the indistinct figures of the nurses who tended to her briskly going about their work. The memories were so fragmented that if someone were to tell her it was all a dream she would have believed it.

“At the first hospital, they finished treatment on your sternum, but your condition remained unstable. The doctor from Corel recommended you to be transferred to either Midgar or Junon because the hospitals there would have the medical equipment ready. They even got approval from Shinra Headquarters’ Science Division, but Master Zangan objected. After some heated discussions, you came here. I’m one of his students, and I guess he remembered that my mom runs this clinic in the slums. It must have been fate.”

“What heated discussions?”

“Well, the doctors working for Shinra Headquarters are top-notch. Zangan refusing to let them examine you must have made them think he was out of his mind.”

“But it’s Shinra…”

“Yeah, I know. Master Zangan said that you wouldn’t be happy about that, given the circumstances. Well, I won’t say ours is the best, but aren’t you happy to be here? If you say otherwise, I won’t have a leg to stand on.”

Rakesh looked at her triumphantly. Apparently he was making a joke.

“Okay, sure.”

“Let me give you one piece of advice. No matter how much you hate Shinra, it’s best not to tell anyone in Midgar about it. Nothing good will come of it. A slum tip for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else I need to know?”

“Way too much. Instead of hearing me yap on about it, you should experience it for yourself. Hey, come on, if you keep working hard you’ll be able to get out of here and do it sooner.”

Rakesh liked talking. While spending time with him, she was kept well informed about things related to the clinic. Rakesh’s father was a research doctor working for Shinra Company and he learned about physiotherapy from him. His father specialized in all aspects of biological muscle tissue, not of humans but of monsters.

“He kept saying that the basic construction of any living thing with bones and muscles are the same. Find that hard to believe, right? But he did take part in supervising an illustrated reference book of monsters. Got killed by one in the middle of his research though.” Having said that, Rakesh chuckled.

She felt uncomfortable hearing morbid jokes, but she learned to tolerate them as they were the staple among the seniors in the Calisthenics Club.

Once a week she had to go in for a chest x-ray fluoroscopy. Damini would examine the images on the monitor and make her decision, but Tifa couldn’t tell the difference when she looked at the comparison images. Was Damini nodding or shaking her head? Tifa would wait for her to make a decision as if she were praying every time.

“Hmm. Good. It’s going smoothly.”

On the last day of November, the corset was finally taken off.

“Breathe in as much as you can, until you start to feel pain. Easy… Easy…”

Zangan’s voice came to mind. Easy now… Easy…

No matter how hard she breathed in, she didn’t feel any pain.

“Excellent. Now, try to stretch your arms toward the ceiling. Take your time.”

She cautiously raised up her arms but there was no pain.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt!”

“Congratulations, Tifa.”

Damini patted her on the head as if she was a child. Tifa recoiled from her touch.

“Right. You want to wash your hair, don’t you?” asked Damini. She had read Tifa’s mind.

Normally, either she or Rakesh would wipe Tifa down with a towel, but that just wasn’t enough. There came a knock at the door. It was Rakesh. Tifa yanked the front of her gown shut.

“Come in!”

“How’d it go?!” asked Rakesh as he barged in.

“The results were okay!”

“You did it!” Rakesh threw her a thumbs up.

Tifa took over the shower room for a long time, washing her hair and her whole body until she was satisfied. But it didn’t make her feel as good as she thought it would. She had no idea how much money she needed to get out of the hospital and what to do after she left.

After washing herself clean, she put on the fresh undergarments and clothing that Damini had put out for her. The clothes were unremarkable, a large blouse and a mid-length skirt. Tifa put on the same ballet-type slippers she had worn during her rehabilitation. She was exhausted from just that. Her arms and legs felt so heavy. She sat down on the bed, and even just sitting was painful. She collapsed onto her side.

“It’s all gone.”

Gone were her favorite clothes, boots, hat, her mother’s photo, her father, and probably Maru too. Gone were her prized possessions, the Book of Secrets, the stairs she used to run up, the door she had accidentally closed when flustered, her piano, the scenery from her window, the Water Tower containing her memories. Gone, the muscles that had covered her whole body.

“There’s nothing left,” she said aloud before breaking down in tears.

The next morning, she received notice from Damini that the room needed to be vacated within one week.

“I’d love to absolve you of your payment, but we don’t have that luxury. We can split it into monthly payments.”

“Thank you,” said Tifa, but she didn’t even have the means to pay back even a single gil per month. She was completely lost over what to do.

Rakesh offered her a work prospect, and said that the rent was guaranteed to be cheap since she could live-in. She was happy about that, but the worries took over.

“What kind of work?”

“Can you cook?”

“A little bit, but I might not be up to par. I’ve lost all my muscles.”

“Here, I’ll let you borrow this.” Rakesh tossed a notebook onto the bed. “The Zangan-ryu Book of Secrets: Volume 1.”

Rakesh slowly performed the first set of forms.

“This all makes so much sense. You’ll build up muscle. But I think you know that already.”

Damini, who had been watching their exchange, stood up with a relieved look on her face. She placed a hand on Tifa’s shoulder.

“You know what they say. Education is something that no one can take away from you. I think they’re right about that,” she said, and then patted Tifa on the shoulder as if to give encouragement.

On December 4th, she took the ID card that Rakesh had prepared for her and left the clinic.

“It’s just a temporary card. The only places you can rent from are the Sector 8 slums. You can't use it to get work on the Plate, and you’ll need to get your own later. Use me as your personal guarantor for that. Oh, and I put your birthplace as Corel. I figured that if Shinra found out you were someone from Nibelheim, you’d be marked by them.”

“Thanks.”

This was the definition of immaculate service.

Tifa hadn’t been outside ever since she chased after her father who had run off to Mt. Nibel. Not only that, but it was her first time in the slums. She felt tired, anxious, and deeply agitated. Rakesh, who closely observed her, would run over with worry several times to stop her and have her take deep breaths.

“This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s alright. No big deal. Nobody cares. It’s the slums. Up you go—One more time.”

She took deep breaths and looked up. The town was under a ceiling consisting of neatly combined steel frames supported by giant pillars. Wherever the sunlight was blocked, the enormous sun lamps made up for it. There was even a whole city on top of this “ceiling” with several mako reactors scattered around. Compared to the reactors here, the one on top of Mt. Nibel looked like a miniature model.

Of course, she had some prior knowledge of Midgar. She had seen the video footage and photos, but it was still overwhelming. And the number of people! People were everywhere. Was Emilio, Lester, or Taylor among the crowd? And what about…Cloud? But even if they were, the chances of bumping into them again were slim.

“Every time Master Zangan comes here, he complains that it stinks. It's rude, you know, even if he is my master. It’s home to a lot of people.”

There certainly were a lot of smells—dust, sweat, iron and spices—but not so much that it could be considered stinky.

“Doesn’t smell that bad to me.”

“Yeah, it might be your first time walking around, but you’ve basically lived here for almost two months. You probably got used to it.”

“Does Master Zangan come often?”

“Not really. Maybe once every three or four months. He has many students here in the slums, so it’s not like he can come see me every time.”

Rakesh, perhaps unconsciously, fiddled with the leather bracelet on his wrist.

“What meaning does that have?”

“Ah, this?” He seemed taken by surprise by his own actions. “What do we call this? A charm—to keep me from temptation? Not that it really works. The slums are filled with so many vices… See that?”

Rakesh stopped abruptly and pointed halfway down the street to the entranceway into an alley.

“We’re turning over there. Remember your surroundings.”

Looking around, she noticed the front of a small shop with vegetables lined up for sale. Examining more closely, she saw meat and canned food. It was a general store, like the one Emilio’s family owned.

“Let’s go in further,” said Rakesh, wedging his way through the alleyway. She caught a whiff of the foul-smelling water.

“Most times, the alleyways smell bad. Wastewater from people’s homes gets flushed down here. But you’ll get used to it. Our bodies have an excellent system that kicks into gear called olfactory adaptation. Hey, look, there’s a cat. We have lots of cats here in the slums. Do you like cats?”

“Yeah.”

She was reminded of Maru who was always running away from home. She hoped he survived.

“Oh, right. About Sephiroth.” Rakesh stopped abruptly and turned to look at her. “One week ago, they made a public announcement that he’d been killed in battle, in Wutai. But his whereabouts were unknown. I wonder if they ever found his body.”

Good. He deserved to die after what he did. But she vacillated between reassurance and confusion. Now where was she supposed to direct her hatred and anger to?

“I got the gist of your story from what Master Zangan said, so I understand how you feel. But I'm hoping you can forget the past and make a fresh start.”

Tifa nodded absent-mindedly. That seemed to satisfy Rakesh, and he picked up the pace.

A man was sitting on a small chair in the alleyway. He didn’t strike her as young, but neither was he old. He had a weather-beaten face with deep wrinkles carved into his forehead, and his entire body was wrapped up in some sort of cloak.

“Tifa, this is ‘Gatekeeper’. Remember his face.”

“Gatekeeper, this is Tifa Lockhart. Please take care of her.”

“Hello. Pleased to meet you,” greeted Tifa, not quite understanding the situation.

The man Rakesh called “Gatekeeper” scowled angrily. Rakesh urged the confused Tifa onwards.

“Manson’s in charge around here. Oh, right. You’ll be working for Manson Group.”

“Who’s Manson?”

“The so-called local boss. I’ll be your go-between so you won’t ever have to meet him.”

“Someone scary?” asked Tifa, remembering Gatekeeper’s demeanor.

“Yeah, sometimes. But here in the slums, we have a number of people called bosses, each in charge of their own turf. Places like these are typically not as unsafe. Gotta remember that.”

Why couldn’t he tell her not to be scared?

“And we have arrived.”

They paused at an open space lined with large wooden crates. There were metal frames on the top and bottom of these crates. Post-and-beam framing was used to create surfaces of wooden boards. The wood was old and scratched. The red paint had lifted and was peeling off the steel parts, and the exposed area was rusting. There were about twenty similar crates placed around haphazardly.

“All of these containers were originally transported by truck. That’s why we call this place Container Alleyway. These are historic containers that were used for construction.”

Rakesh made a face that drew laughter, but quickly turned serious.

“It doesn’t look as bad on the inside as it does outside.”

On one of the walls facing the alleyway was a small door with a padlock, and from its hook dangled an antiquated lock. Rakesh produced a small key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, and twisted the key. She heard a click as the lock came off. He handed it over to Tifa.

“If you’re uneasy, you can install one or two more, but it’ll be a pain to get in and out,” explained Rakesh as he opened the door and disappeared inside.

Tifa couldn’t get in the door easily without lowering her head. Making it first inside, Rakesh tugged on a cord dangling from the ceiling and the room lit up. The light from the naked bulb shined brightly.

“Rent will include electricity. Thanks to the mako reactor, our electricity bills are low.”

Tifa was only half-paying attention to what he said. Rakesh shut the door and twisted the ring on the padlock.

“If you’re worried, you can put the lock here instead. But, if you lose your key you’ll be trapped inside, so be extra careful.”

Once inside, she noticed that the walls and floors were arranged just like any normal house. On the wall opposite to the door was a vent and small window. A thin mattress and blanket was spread out on a simple metal framed bed. In place of what should be a pillow was a cushion.

There was also a monopod chair and small table set. Against the front, right-hand side wall were old cupboards stocked with tableware.

“It’s fully furnished. The trick to happy living is to not give a damn who used this stuff or who used to live here before you. Also, if you cook, make sure to keep the door and window open. For ventilation. But I don’t suggest it because it could be dangerous with these junkies around. Best for you to eat your meals at work.”

Tifa stared at Rakesh.

“We’ll talk about work later. Let’s see… You’ll find towels and stuff under the bed. Anyway, everything you might need is here. Any questions about the place?”

“Water… And what about the toilet and shower?”

“At the farthest end, there’s a shared water supply. The toilets and showers are all there. I promise it’s real filtered tap water. So, you take this here,”一He signaled to a water tank hanging on the wall一”and fill it with water and bring it back here to use. Don’t overfill or it gets heavy.”

“Um, excuse me…”

“Oh, the rent?”

“Yeah.”

“It's 15 gil a day.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t beat this price anywhere! Besides, if you keep on working hard, you’ll be raking in money in no time.”

The way Rakesh talked reminded her of what a human trafficker might say before kidnapping a child and transporting them to places to do intense labor. Traffickers were like the bogeyman in her childhood nightmares, on the same level as monsters and ghosts. The thought reminded her of the time she mistook Zangan for one when they first met. Zangan一That very same man had brought her and Rakesh together.

Her suspicions grew. Was it possible that this was all a misunderstanding, or was she in danger of being trafficked?

“Hey! Did you just give me a suspicious look? I should have worded it better. I’ll introduce you later, but it’s respectable work, okay? Don’t worry,” said Rakesh as they backed out of the container. He prompted Tifa to lock the door, and then they continued further down the clearing to check the location of the water supply, toilet and shower.

The container with the shower had the walls removed so the inside was exposed. There was a pipe chair nearby and a woman with a hunched back was sitting on it. Tifa guessed the woman to be in her forties. There was a counter in front of her, and on top of it sat a tin can filled with coins.

“This lady here is Water Guard.”

“It’s three gil per shower. Men also come to shower here so watch your back,” said “Water Guard.”

Um, what exactly was she supposed to watch out for?

“You can keep your clothes on, come in your undies, or a bathing suit, or even your birthday suit!”

“Okay…”

Was this woman making fun of her? The five showers did have boards separating them from each other, but there were no doors. This was going to be a serious problem. Maybe it was a sign to just forget about her sanitary life back in Nibelheim. Back to the alley and returning to the original street, she spotted the General Store crowded with customers. The shopkeeper was a young man in an apron, chatting with customers in a friendly manner.

What kind of work would they have her do? Did Manson have a temper? What if she couldn’t say no? She followed behind Rakesh’s footsteps, thinking of all the jobs she didn't want to do. The common sense of the slums and the sense of what was right and wrong was still unknown to her. She had no choice but to stick to him. Never did she imagine herself being so helpless.

※

“What are you thinking?” asked Red XIII who was lying on his stomach next to Tifa.

“I remembered when I first started living in the slums.”

“Oh? Very interesting.”

“It’s okay. Don’t mind me. Oh, look. Why don’t you join them? Go have some fun.”

In their line of sight, Cloud and Aerith were squaring off with a Chocobo.

“I’ll go if you want to be left alone. Otherwise, let me stay.”

“Alright, then stay.”

As they traveled along the Grasslands and Tifa told her friends about her life, she had stopped her story right before Sephiroth entered the picture. Anymore would be… too painful. There were still things she wasn't ready to talk about yet.

But, while she may have lost everything, luck was on her side. She had been blessed with encounters and connections, and now even missed them.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by pekotranslates

Proofread by Eerie

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 53-72

“I think that was when I began to change. I trained my body and became stronger. I had goals and structure. It felt like…I had my whole life sorted out.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” said Barret. “And nothing mattered other than that, right?”

“Hmm. Sorry, that’s not it. Everything mattered to me then. I got rid of my picky habits instead.”

“Oh…”

“Master Zangan used to go to Nibelheim once every two months after that. Sometimes it would be for a long period of time, sometimes not. The Calisthenics Club was still running, you see, so he would also help teach there. Hearing him praise the grandmothers made me so happy because it felt like I was being praised too.”

※

“Hmm...”

Zangan peered over her notes and let out a sigh. The notes were filled with questions she had jotted down while doing her individual training. At the very end she wrote down characteristics of each and every individual in the Calisthenics Club: This person had a bad left leg, or this one couldn’t raise her shoulder, or this one couldn’t lift with her back. She wrote their strong and weak points, stamina, family structures, and any sensitive topics not to bring up. Every little thing she noticed she jotted down, as well as countermeasures, exercises, and forms for them to focus on.

“This is exactly what Zangan-Ryu is about, Tifa.”

He happily returned the notes to her.

“Now then, is your father home?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well, I’d like to pay him a visit and offer my greetings, if that’s all right.”

“All right.”

She wasn’t sure what his intentions were and felt a twinge of anxiety. But ever since she started training with him, the relationship between him and her father had improved. Certainly there wouldn’t be any problems. Brian Lockhart welcomed Zangan.

At first there were glimpses of animosity in Brian’s manner towards him, perhaps from seeing his daughter look up to someone other than himself. But now that he recognized how Zangan had helped her to grow in a healthy way, both physically and mentally, his attitude towards him completely changed.

“Mr. Lockhart, there’s something I’d like your help with, and that’s why I’m here. Of course, it’s about Tifa.”

Both father and daughter froze.

“She’s remarkably talented, and she continues to train day in and day out with great willpower. There are only a few students I expected to be able to do this without guidance or, I should say, without any supervision. That’s where Tifa comes in.”

Zangan fixed his gaze on her. She grew even more anxious.

“We’ll start on Volume 5 tomorrow.”

The heat rose to her face. It was time. Volume 4 would complete her basic training, and then she would begin on techniques to be used in a real-life fight.

“Okay!”

“Mr. Lockhart, I was wondering if I could appoint you to be her sparring partner? I mean her partner for mock battles. Because previously, you see, there was this young man who, due to my inadequate tutelage, chose to spar with monsters in the wild and lost his life in a rather unfortunate way. I don’t want that tragedy to repeat itself.”

“Master Zangan,” said her father with a baffled expression, “is this something an amateur such as myself is even capable of doing?”

“Well, there’s lots of work for the both of you until you get used to it.”

“Lots…”

“Having said that, holding back tends to injure both parties, the one hitting and the one receiving those hits. I’ll have you wear those whatchamacallit on your body to protect yourself. You’ll be fine! You can substitute whatever you have at home.”

After hearing Zangan’s response, her father glanced over at Tifa. She met him with a hopeful gaze.

“All right, I’ll do it. What do you need me to do?”

“Papa, thank you!” Tifa happily threw her arms around her father’s neck. It had been a while since she had done that.

Zangan taught both father and daughter the basic punches and kicks as well as defensive movements that were shown in Volume 5, and then left the village.

Brian Lockhart, who had always been dextrous and an absolute perfectionist, created an even better training gear than what Zangan had proposed. Using his gear, the two of them would do their workouts, performing mock battles at home or occasionally on Mt. Nibel where people seldom ventured.

The next time Zangan returned was three days before Tifa’s fifteenth birthday. With her Sensei watching and her father as her sparring partner, she demonstrated all the moves she had learned from the fifth volume. He pointed out and remedied some of her personal interpretations or any unwanted habits.

“Well then, would you like to fight one last battle with me today?”

“Sensei, are you saying you’re going to be my sparring partner?”

“Yes. I won’t wear any armor, and I won’t use my arms or legs. I will simply dodge your attacks and judge accordingly.”

“Sensei,” said her father. “Please use the protective gear. I won’t have you getting injured.”

Zangan roared with laughter at that. He held onto his stomach, and after having a good laugh, lightly jumped and landed behind her where he beckoned with his hand as if to taunt her. He seemed like a completely different person from before; his jaw upturned, he stared her down with such arrogance.

“You naive little country girl. Come on! Need someone to play with?”

She couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Her emotions bubbled up violently.

“Tifa, calm down—”

Before her father could finish speaking, she charged at Zangan and threw a right punch. This running-and-punching technique was not mentioned in the Book of Secrets. She heard the sound of contact as Zangan absorbed her punch in his large hand.

“Just a scratch,” he sneered at her, jerking down her clenched fist before releasing his grip. Tifa staggered back and fell flat on the ground.

“Have you forgotten your retreating footwork? Volume 4, Step 3-3.”

Tifa gritted her teeth and rose to her feet. This time she brought both fists up to guard her face and steadily inched closer while spacing herself. Using the footwork she learned from Volume 4, Step 3-2, she circled clockwise around Zangan.

“Oh? Looking much better. What will you do next?”

As if confronting her directly, Zangan rotated in his spot. He kept his guard position with both hands up. She could not find any weak spots.

“Ahhh!” There was no chance of victory, yet she rushed at him anyway, swinging her fists. But not a single punch landed on Zangan in the end.

Zangan bowed toward Tifa who stood still, breathing heavily. However, she did not return his bow. So many questions were jumbled up inside her head.

Her father invited Zangan to dinner, which he happily accepted. Zangan devoured the food her father cooked and the muffins Tifa baked. He reluctantly accepted payment from her father as well.

“But I won’t need any further payments. I don’t charge any of my other students, you see. May I donate this to the organization that I belong to?”

“The money’s yours to spend however you like, but I’m very curious. What kind of organization is it?”

“One that works daily for the future of our children. You could say we’re volunteers. We simply call ourselves a liaison group or a network. Our activities branch out in so many directions that we have not yet settled on a name.”

“Sensei, Papa...”

The two adults turned to Tifa.

“Sensei, you’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, won’t you? There isn’t time. I understand your liaison group is important to you, but I need to know why none of my punches landed on you. Were you able to guess my next moves? If so, how did you know?”

Zangan watched Tifa, amused.

“I could tell you, but the answer is simple and obvious. Think about it some more and you’ll understand. I’m sure you’ll regret it if I just tell you.”

“No, it’s fine. Just tell me.”

“Wait a minute!” cut in her father. “So provoking her by calling her a country bumpkin and whatnot was all part of your strategy?”

“Hahaha! That’s absolutely right! Her anger caused blood to rush to her head, which was sure to make her forget half of what she learned.”

“Hearing you say something like that, when you’re someone I respect… The first thing I felt was shock, then hurt, and then sadness. The anger came after.”

Her comment was followed by a look of discomfort on Zangan’s face. “It was a strategy that lacked dignity. Don’t you dare try to copy me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“But I wonder how she wasn’t able to get in even a single hit.”

Zangan cleared his throat and straightened himself in his seat.

“Your eyes. I could see your next move from the look in your eyes.”

“Ohh...”

As Tifa sat dumbfounded, her father cooed with admiration next to her.

“Ah, I keep going easy on my students!” laughed Zangan.

She was frustrated for having chosen the shortcut to the answer, and it also irritated her that things turned out just as Zangan said.

“Tifa Lockhart, I’ll give you something nice to celebrate your birthday.”

He twisted around in his seat, and from behind his chair pulled out a cord from a leather backpack which was his traveling things. The cord appeared to be made of leather that was of a matching color.

“This cord may come in handy when traveling. You can come up with so many uses. Just by your imagination. Perhaps it can even turn into a useful weapon. Here, give me your hand. Your left is fine.”

Tifa watched her teacher’s face. He nodded confidently. She nervously held out her left hand. Zangan’s large fingers moved skillfully, wrapping the cord around her wrist, loosely twisting it into a double layer, and then tied it in a loop to complete a simple cord bracelet.

“At the moment I taunted you, caught your fist and dodged all of your attacks, you let your emotions consume you. Not only did you forget the fruit of your labors, but you forgot your manners too. Now it’s okay to be angry. Anger can be a powerful force at times. However you must control it. Tifa, do remember who your arch-enemy is?”

“Myself…”

“Formidable, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“When you feel like you’re about to lose, look at your wrist. Touch the cord. I want you to remember today’s lesson.”

Tifa stared at the leather strap around her wrist and nodded.

“It’s nothing elegant, but you’ll just have to live with it. With more practice, you’ll soon find it unnecessary, and then you can take it off your wrist and transfer it into your mind.”

The next morning, Tifa and her father saw Zangan to the exit as he departed on his journey.

“Tifa, do you remember our conversation about eye contact?”

“Of course I do.”

“Your speed is the best of the best. If you can break that habit, I might not even be able to handle you completely.”

“Really?!”

“Well, it’s up to you. Alright, I’ll give you a goal.”

Zangan looked up at the sky.

“In half a year, I’ll conduct a test. If you can land one hit on me with your fist, I will let you hold the Menkyo Kaiden*.”

Menkyo Kaiden is a Japanese term meaning “license of total transmission”. It is a certificate that is granted by the Ryu, or other organization meaning that the recipient has learned everything that the organization or Ryu can teach, and is licensed to pass on all aspects of its training.

“Menkyo Kaiden?”

It sounded thrilling, but they had no idea what it meant. Father and daughter exchanged glances.

“I will teach you everything from the Zangan-Ryu, and together we’ll figure out your hand-to-hand fighting style.”

“Wow…”

“Amazing, I know. But it won’t come easy. Be very diligent.”

“I will!” replied both father and daughter. Her father had answered with boyish enthusiasm, happy as if the words were meant for him. He scratched his face, embarrassed. Zangan and Tifa burst out laughing at that. Soon her father joined in too.

Aiming for her test in half a year, she trained rigorously. But when summer was over, the time the Lockhart family could spend together was greatly reduced.

Monsters appeared more often on Mt. Nibel, and an investigation team had to be organized. Tifa’s father, who was a member of the village advisory board, took the initiative in joining the team. And because of that, there was a dramatic decrease in the time he could spend helping her with mock battles.

The villagers reported the unusual mountain activity to Shinra Company, but were only told to keep reporting to them on the variety of monsters they saw. Amidst the growing anxiety, they kept following Shinra’s instructions.

Soon there was a sighting of a dragon-type monster which had never been identified in Nibelheim before. Its presence instilled a heightened sense of urgency in the villagers. The Nibelheim Council, consisting of the village chief and his three advisors, decided to organize a Neighborhood Watch separate from the investigation team.

The group was to set up camp near the mountain gate and be in position to intercept the monsters coming down from the mountains. Of course, there was no guarantee that monsters would even take that route, especially the bug-like creature called ‘Insect Chimera’ that was known to have existed for a long time there. Though rarely encountered, there was a possibility that these could come flying from the sky, so armed Neighborhood Watches scattered around the village, observing the sky.

The landscape of the village had completely changed.

Villagers were on constant alert day and night. It was especially exhausting for those in the Neighborhood Watch. On September 18th, they switched from a volunteer system to a duty system. Any healthy male or female no younger than twenty years old would be required to join unless they had a valid excuse.

The next day, on the 19th, the first team was confronted by a humanoid monster at the outskirts of the village. This monster, reportedly walking on two legs with a silhouette similar to their own, stimulated people’s imagination.

What the hell was going on in the mountains? The Shinra facility was definitely behind it. In spite of Chief Zonder’s persistent demands there had been no movement, so it was fair to believe Shinra must have had some idea as to what was going on. And yet no news came down to the village.

Their frustration, spurred by distrust in Shinra Company, was about to explode.

Tifa joined the soup kitchen. Her job was to make meals for the Neighborhood Watch using the makeshift kitchen that was installed beneath the water tower. The village women took turns volunteering. She recognized a few familiar, elderly faces from the Calisthenics Club among them.

Work ended for her in the afternoon, and she got home to find her father was out. He had left her a farewell letter saying he was going to the village office, and stayed in the mountains throughout the whole night. It was around breakfast time when he returned home. It didn’t look like he got much sleep either, and he appeared to have lost weight. How long could they go on like this? She heard that some families were even planning to migrate away from the village.

For some time, she stayed cooped up in her room holding Maru in her arms and staring into space. She had so much free time on her hands.

Maru started nibbling on the leather cord on her left wrist.

“Maru, don’t!”

She placed him down on the floor and checked on her bracelet. It was fine. It hadn’t become frayed.

“I should tell myself that too.”

She rose and took a deep breath.

“Book of Secrets, Volume 2, No. 1-1-1,” she declared, rolled up her sleeves, and then began reviewing from the Book of Secrets.

Her father returned home when she was midway through Volume 4. She heard his footsteps continue up the stairs until there was a knock at her door.

“I know you’re in there. Come out for a sec.”

She did as she was told, and opened to find her father clutching a large paper box which he nudged into her arms.

“You remember Grandma Margot, don’t you? These are her daughter Jasmine’s clothes from when Jasmine was younger.”

“She’s letting me have them?”

“Yeah, she said the size should fit you. Jasmine was my childhood friend. When I looked inside the box, nostalgia hit me and it made me dizzy. She was so full of life. When she was around, everything around her suddenly became bright.”

“Hmm. Alright, I’ll take a look then.”

“Yeah. If you find something you like, wear it for Margot to see. She’s been feeling a little emotional with everything going on.”

“Okay, I will. But Papa… are you getting enough sleep?”

“Oh, there’s one more thing. I’ll tell you the news and then you should go to bed. The day after tomorrow is the 22nd, and that’s when Shinra’s investigation party is coming. Seems like our report on the humanoid monsters got their attention. I bet Soldier will be coming too.”

The moment she heard the word “Soldier”, the few memories she had with Cloud Strife came flooding back. He never contacted her after they parted ways two years ago. Not knowing how to handle her growing feelings for him, she had tried to seal them away.

She realized her face had turned red, panicked, and then shut the door on her father.

“Tifa?!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!”

She tossed and turned all night. When she counted them again, her memories with Cloud were so surprisingly few that others might find it hard to believe that they grew up as next-door neighbors. But because of that, each memory stood out more vividly to her. Something to look at over and over again and then gently put back so that the shape doesn’t change.

But there was one memory in particular from her “collection” that remained blurry and invisible. The incident she got into when she was eight years old.

“Beyond Mt. Nibel is the Land of the Dead” was an old saying in the village. Tifa, who was in great turmoil over her mother’s death, clung to those words as she went into the mountains. She wanted to see her mother.

Emilio and the others went with her but, on the way, as it became stormy, they sensed danger and went back down the mountain. Of course they tried to take Tifa back with them, but Cloud Strife showed up and lured her with him, and the two of them disappeared deep into the mountains. What happened after was that the two of them slipped and fell off the mountain. Cloud got away with only scraped knees, but Tifa struck her head and lost consciousness for a week.

Emilio and his friends who came down first made a report. It spread around the village and Cloud admitted it had happened, but never made it clear why he behaved the way he did. When asked, she heard he’d only answer, "Just because."

Tifa couldn’t remember anything, but she was aware that she had caused it so she apologized. Since it happened immediately following her mother’s death, everyone sympathized with her, but Cloud ended up getting all the blame. They dismissed the fact that Tifa was mostly unharmed when she regained consciousness. For them, the week that passed by slowly when she was lying unconscious was engraved in their minds. Everyone began to think of it as an incident, not an accident, so it must have made Cloud and Claudia Strife feel small. Not much had changed since then.

Tifa felt uncomfortable because up until then, their Gang of Four weren’t able to get close to Cloud, not even once. She never talked about it with him ever again. Since Cloud confessed to it, maybe things had happened just like Emilio said.

On the other hand, it also felt like Cloud was protecting her. Because of him, she managed to escape the blame. But there didn’t seem to be any reason for him to do that. She didn’t find his “just because” very convincing. She wondered if it was time to ask him—The next time they’d meet, she would ask. The opportunity might come sooner than later.

The following day, her father examined the cellphone that was on top of the table as he normally did, and then said to her with exhilaration, “Shinra’s already here.”

Whenever Shinra staff came to Nibelheim or Mt. Nibel the signal got stronger, so the villagers would be able to communicate with each other.

“I wonder if they’re going straight into the mountains.”

“No, they arrive tomorrow, and they’ll enter the mountains from the village. Zonder’s excited about throwing them a welcoming party. Maybe they’ll send some kind of advance team.”

When she finished her meal, she joined the morning soup kitchen. Many villagers already knew that Shinra was sending a full-blown investigation team. The taut thread of tension snapped, and the atmosphere relaxed.

After about three hours of preparing sandwiches for breakfast and lunch, the morning’s work was done. Next was making supper and dinner at 3pm. Until then, she had some spare time which she chose to spend at home.

She took a shower to get rid of the sweat from work, and then returning to her room, touched her cellphone for the first time in a while. But she didn’t have anyone’s number who she wanted to talk to.

She suddenly noticed the box left on the floor, the one her father had brought. Looking inside, she saw many colorful clothes that were instant mood-boosters when worn.

“Hmm.”

She thought it would be fun. A dark brown vest and mini skirt caught her eye. It looked like something an active girl working in a farm would wear. After matching the outfit with a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of boots, she thought to herself that she looked pretty cute.

“I’ll go with this!” She felt brighter and lighter already.

Margot, who was the mother of the owner of those clothes, was there at the afternoon soup kitchen.

“Well, well, well...” Her voice broke with emotion as she drew closer. And then she said, “Let me give you a hug.”

“Huh?”

Margot suddenly took Tifa into her arms, and pressed her cheek against Tifa’s.

“I thought Jasmine had shown up. Well, well, well!”

Tifa didn’t know what to say. She didn’t expect the woman to be this happy. But it wasn’t a bad feeling at all.

“That girl hasn’t shown her face in years. Talk about being disobedient!”

Margot let Tifa go and promised to bring her more of Jasmine’s clothes. Seemed like she had more outfits like this one.

After a quick meeting, it was decided that meatball soup would be on the dinner menu. Tifa was placed in the group prepping the vegetables. As she was chopping various vegetables, she heard a voice next to her say, “Oh my, how cute!”

Glancing over she saw Claudia Strife.

“I got this outfit from Grandma Margot. They belonged to Jasmine.”

“I knew I saw those clothes before. I wonder how Jasmine’s doing?”

“How is Cloud doing?” asked Tifa. She was surprised at herself. Her heart was beating fast. But that was the first question that popped into her head the moment she saw Claudia’s face.

“Yeah, I think he���s doing okay.”

“Is Cloud already in the mountains?”

“Huh?”

“I heard that the people Shinra sent are from Soldier. Since our signals got stronger, they think they’re coming to the mountains. I thought maybe Cloud would be with them.”

Claudia stared at Tifa with a puzzled look, and then finally said, “I didn’t hear anything about that. But even if he was coming, that boy won’t say a word. Not because he wants to surprise me or anything, but he just can’t be bothered.” Claudia chuckled. “The only time he contacted me was right after he left when he sent a letter saying that he officially enlisted.

“Really?! So then...you don’t know if he made it to Soldier or not?”

“No. But, why do you mention Soldier?”

Tifa realized the reason why they couldn’t understand each other.

“Because Cloud told me he wanted to join Soldier… Was I wrong?”

“Oh? So he told you that, did he?”

Claudia repeatedly said “huh” as she chopped the vegetables. Afterwards, the two lined up to cook. There were times she noticed Claudia looked like she was about to say something to her but held her tongue. At least that’s what Tifa noticed. Maybe she wanted to talk about the disaster incident. But Tifa didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. That’s why she was relieved when Mark Banner called to her.

“Hey, Tifa!”

Mark was the youngest member of the Calisthenics Club, but he was still much older than her father and a bit of a show-off.

“Is that white cat with the red scarf yours?”

“Yeah, his name is Maru. He has a red cloth around his neck.”

“I saw him hanging around the mountain gate.” Mark Banner wiped the sweat off his face. “But if he goes in the mountains, just give up on him, you hear? Things are bad there now.”

With that said, he went away. Tifa interrupted Claudia and took off from work.

“Not in the mountains!” She heard Claudia shouting at her back as she ran.

Without turning around she answered, “Okay!”

※

“I went looking for Maru and ended up going past the mountain gate and into the mountains. I mean, I was worried about the monsters, but I thought I knew how to deal with them. If one of those insect-types tried to attack me, I’d beat them up… I guess that’s how I felt.”

“So cool!” said Aerith in astonishment.

“No, I wasn’t. It was just overconfidence. Looking back I was pretty naive because I was met with serious trouble. The insect-type wasn’t the one I was familiar with, but some kind of enormous, mutated creature.”

“That ain’t good! So then what happened?”

“A lady from Shinra saved me. She was wearing a black suit.”

“Black suit? So a Turk?” said Aerith, surprised.

“Yeah. Come to think of it, she must have been. But she didn’t tell me her name in the end.”

“So it wasn’t Soldier that came but Turks? That’s not what we heard back in Kalm.”

“Well, I’m not sure what her motives were, but she said they were looking for a guide from Nibelheim, so I volunteered. This was communicated to our village chief and then it was decided that I would be Sephiroth’s guide. If I hadn’t run into her, things probably would have turned out differently.”

“It’s good to remember that Shinra Company still utilizes children who are barely of age,” said Red XIII.

“Why?”

“Because they’re ignorant of the world and easy to indoctrinate.”

“I wish I could go back in time to that day and tell this to myself who beamed with pride when they chose me.”

“What would you have done if you knew?” Aerith quietly asked.

Tifa wondered to herself. Maybe she would still have taken the offer because she wanted to be even just a little closer to Cloud. But she continued walking without answering. After walking for a while she suddenly remembered and glanced at Aerith. She felt Barret’s and Red XIII’s eyes on her.

“What happened after was just as Cloud had described back at Kalm. That’s the end of my Nibelheim story.”

The other three nodded silently, and then Aerith’s gaze drifted away from her own. When she looked over her shoulder, Cloud was there.

“What were you talking about?”

“My tea parties with Emilio and the others.”

Cloud looked away for a moment, and then scowled.

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 40-52

Disclaimer: Occasionally, I will indicate who the speaker is, even though it's not written in the original text. I will only do this when it's not clear to the reader who is speaking when translated into English. Also, I started this for fun so that my friends who don't have access can read it. I'm just another fan like you. With that said, I do try to be as faithful to the original source material as possible, and for those of you who can read Japanese, please support the author by buying his book.

Not everyone agreed with Chief Zonder's decision. The elderly—a major force in the village—began to make noise. They seemed to take a liking to Zangan's longevity exercises, and regretted not being able to memorize what was taught to them. They wanted someone to check if their poses were correct, and wished to learn the remaining exercises he was supposed to have taught them.

The village chief paid a visit at dinnertime.

"Hey, Tifa..." he said with a sullen expression. "Will you teach the old folks how to do Zangan's exercises properly?"

"Why Tifa?" her father asked. She just knew he would ask.

"Because Zangan named her. Told me that if we ever needed someone to mentor us, Tifa would be qualified. Said that she had the most controlled form* out of everyone who gathered there that day.

Kata, which means “form” in Japanese, is the term used to describe specific sequences of motion that are used to practice technique and execution in martial arts

It pleased her knowing that someone spoke of her like that when not in her presence, but it also caused her to be slightly embarrassed.

"Zonder, don't get my family involved."

"Aw, c'mon! I'm already in big trouble as it is. The old folks just won't let it go!"

"Hmph!" Brian Lockhart snorted. He enjoyed seeing the village chief squirm. She couldn't tell whether or not they actually got along with each other.

"Tifa, what do you think?"

"I'd just be teaching the elderly people those exercises, right? If that's all there is, then I'd like to try."

"Tifa..." her father began, but he swallowed back his complaint. He knew that it wasn't good for her to have too much time on her hands. "Well, if you're gonna do it, then do it right."

While preparing breakfast, Tifa heard a knock at the door, and opened to a woman’s face she barely recognized. It was an elderly woman called "Mon Amie" who was an aunt of sorts to Chief Zonder. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight that it looked like her eyes were being pulled straight up!

"Good morning to you. It's been a long time, Tifa. I heard that Zonder told you all about it. How about 2 gil per hour?"

"Sorry?" She had not heard about any compensation.

"Well, you are thirteen now. Not a little girl anymore, so that doesn't cut it for you, eh? Alright then, how about 4 gil?"

"No, I don't want any money."

"That won't do. We are taking this very seriously, and you will be properly paid for your work."

No matter how much Zangan trusted her, would she really be up to the task? But, being able to earn her own money sounded very appealing, as if a whole new world had opened up to her.

Mon Amie took Tifa's silence as her wanting to bargain for higher wages.

"6 gil."

"Alright. 6 gil it is then."

"Brian never did leave the village. He wanted to keep Thea all to himself." Mon Amie suddenly brought up her parents during their exercise routine at the public square.

"Really?" said Tifa, adjusting Mon Amie's arm posture. She needed to get her to straighten her back and push out her chest a bit more for the desired result.

"She was quite the popular one, that child."

It wasn’t very pleasant hearing her mother being called "that child", yet Tifa encouraged her. Listening to the elderly tell old stories was a part of her job. The responsibility she felt from receiving wages tempered her patience.

"You should leave the village," said Mon Amie suddenly. "Doesn't it sound like fun going around to different places with Master Zangan?"

"It sure does."

"Alright, you don't have to play along with me. No need for you to learn things like that. Just think about it carefully, okay? Something needs to change for women here in Nibelheim."

Tifa silently nodded as she propped up Mon Amie's arm.

"There weren't any women around in my day who held this kind of thinking. But that Strife girl”—she was speaking of Cloud's mother—"tried to leave. Not sure if it's because she hated it here, or if she dreamed of going to the big city."

Mon Amie abruptly altered her pose, ruining her base form.

"To the traditional Nibelheim women, she seemed pretty unconventional. We all refused to accept her ways, but secretly felt the same. Even though we scolded her, deep down inside we were cheering her on. We even felt jealous of her for carving out her own path. Perhaps she changed something in us, little by little.”

Tifa lifted up Mon Amie's knee. "Up high like this. Thank you."

She supported Mon Amie as the woman’s body rocked back and forth.

"But Claudia remained in the village, didn't she?" said Tifa.

"Well, that’s because she fell in love. You see, a man traveled here. Claudia was helping out at the inn at the time. She must have been taken in by the outside air he brought with him. And he was a pretty fellow. I’m sure you see it when you look at Cloud. That boy got the best of both his parents!”

“Right…”

“But, just like the wind, he just couldn’t keep still. Not sure if Cloud learned how to walk yet, but around that time he told her he would go to the mountains, but never came back. They found his belongings though. His body probably got eaten by monsters. You were lucky you didn’t meet the same fate.”

Tifa braced herself. Was she going to bring up that incident?

“Cloud egging you on to climb Mt. Nibel… Maybe that was in his blood.”

Mon Amie’s body began to sway. Tifa had stopped holding onto her causing her to lose her balance. She couldn’t regain her footing in time, and fell flat down on her backside.

“Alright then," said Tifa. "Now let’s use the opposite leg. Please lift up your knee.”

Tifa held out a helping hand to her, but Mon Amie refused and got up on her own.

“Quite strict for a pretty face.”

“That’s because I get paid 6 gil to be.”

Before long, she became more attentive. She noticed Mon Amie lifting up her other knee, but it was at the wrong height again. While Tifa helped her to adjust, Mon Amie said, “You really don’t remember anything? You know, about that accident you got into?”

She was eight years old when she got into that accident on Mt. Nibel. Cloud was with her. The villagers chose to believe the story based on Emilio and the others’ testimonies, and nothing else could be said about it. Tifa really couldn't remember what happened.

"No, unfortunately not..."

Whether the elderly came to her for exercising or just to chat, it was tougher than she had imagined. Her father laughed at her and said he wouldn't have anything to do with them, even for 100 gil.

They never listened and were set in their ways, even the ones who kept away and smiled modestly at her. They just had a different view on things, and sulked if nobody paid them attention.

The topics they discussed also surprised Tifa, and sometimes hurt her too. She disliked whenever they brought up how her body looked so grown. There would be someone who sensed her discomfort or resentment, and would try to change the subject, but then it would turn into whom she should be with and things of that nature.

So, all things considered, Tifa preferred hearing them going on about herself rather than her father’s failed romances, or whom her mother used to hang out with before she got married to him. To the elderly townsfolk, her father and others his age were still “the village youth”.

After her day finished and she was about to go to sleep, she thought to herself that maybe there would be a time when she would be the one telling someone else about what happened today, or about some news she heard from another person. Telling the same stories over and over again, everyday just like the next, until she, herself, became a remnant of the village's history.

※

“They confused me at first, but I got used to being around them, and then it wasn’t so bad anymore. That feeling of wanting someone to talk to—Everyone has that,” explained Tifa.

“So that’s where you learned to entertain guests? From spending your time talking to old folks?” asked Barret.

“Possibly. Maybe that did me good. More and more of the elderly signed up, and they started calling their morning gatherings the ‘Calisthenics Club’.”

“It’s like that at Seventh Heaven too,” said Barret with some intensity.

Aerith urged him to talk.

“It used to be just a small shop owned by this one gramps, but when Tifa started working there, the business picked up. Men crowded the place. Know what I mean, Red?”

“What I’m more interested in is what happened to Zangan afterward? I can sort of imagine based on your fighting style, Tifa...” said Red XIII.

“You’re right. There was a little more that happened before I got to where I'm at.”

※

A month passed after the start of the Calisthenics Club. All morning Tifa would teach the exercises and set aside time for her reading and arithmetic. The afternoon she'd go to the mountains and work hard towards building up her strength and stamina, and then would return home before sunset so her father wouldn’t worry. At night she would examine Zangan's writings and practice her form, reviewing the materials over and over again so as to not overlook anything.

One day, she received a letter from Emilio. He wrote about the fast-paced lifestyle in the big city, and told her about everything he found perplexing: arguments he had had with people, things he ate, the social inequality, and their differences in moral values.

“But whenever I get discouraged, it’s you I think about, Tifa, and then I imagine that day when I’ll come and get you. I'll write to you sometimes and teach you about the city, so you won't be so confused when that time comes.”

Who do you think you are? That's how she honestly felt reading the letter.

Zangan appeared, acting as if nothing had happened. He knocked on the door just in time to greet her father and asked for his permission to call Tifa out, and then led her to the river where they first met.

“Master Zangan, please let me be your student. I want to be stronger.”

“That’s exactly the answer I was looking for, but what’s the matter, Tifa? I sense your impatience. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“That’s not it!” she replied, but felt self-conscious. “No… It’s because I got that letter from my friend.”

“What kind of letter?”

“I think it’s because I don’t want to lose. I don’t want to lose to anyone who left the village.”

“Hmm. My hand-to-hand combat techniques are not meant to be used to make you feel superior to others.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. But the answer to that can only be found through diligent study. All right. I will acknowledge you if you pass my test.”

“Test?”

“Show me everything you’ve learned from Volume 1. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tifa performed a sequence of forms from the physical training method.

“One more time, from the beginning.”

“Okay.”

This time Zangan interrupted with instructions.

"Check the book to see the direction your palms should be facing."

Tifa crouched down over the book and flipped through the pages. The form was wrong from the very start. Should have been above not below.

“I was wrong.”

“Try again.”

When she extended both hands and slightly shifted the direction of her palms, she felt a different set of muscles tingling.

“Everything from the Book of Secrets must be obeyed. Don’t try to interpret it another way or decide that your way is better. While disciplining your body, you must learn to be faithful to your decisions. If I take you in as my student, you will become stronger. So, you must cultivate your mind to control that power. The greater and stronger the power to handle, the greater the responsibility of its owner. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The second time around, Zangan pointed out any minor mistakes she made. Each time she would have to go back and confirm with the Book of Secrets before advancing, which made things take twice as long. Fatigue built up in her arms and legs.

“Alright, now relax and close your eyes. Focus your attention and check the condition of your body. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“My upper back… I wouldn’t say it hurts but it feels like it’s burning...”

She slipped her right hand underneath her left armpit until it touched the lower part of her shoulder blade. Digging her fingers into it felt good.

“Hmph!” Zangan gave a satisfying nod. “That’s your shoulder blade. What you’re pressing into is the trapezius muscle. Surrounding it is your deltoid, infraspinatus, psoas minor and other muscles. The second volume will teach you how to train each one of those muscles on your back,” he said, while holding out a booklet to her. It was Volume 2.

“If you want to live your life with pride then pay close attention to your back. Squeeze your shoulder blades together, chest out. Walking through life with a beautiful posture is also part of your training.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s get started. Well then, onto Volume 2, No. 2-1-1, scapular push-ups.”

Zangan immediately prostrated himself on the ground, and lowered his chest. Tifa hastened to follow his example.

“All you're doing is supporting your whole body with your arms. Concentrate on your shoulder blades. Rotate them outwards—protract, retract, protract.”

It was her first time experiencing those movements. How was she supposed to move to protract her shoulder blades? She couldn’t picture it in her mind. Glancing over at Zangan she noticed he was rotating his shoulders outward, something her cat, Maru, often did.

“You look like a cat,” she said.

“Right. There’s a lot we can learn from cats.”

She focused her attention on her scapula, going up and down, until the repetition of movements were drilled into her body. Zangan rose and watched over Tifa for some time before clearing his throat.

“Good!”

The movements were subtle but still made her perspire.

“That’s because the muscles across your back are wider. Moving them increases the blood flow and raises your temperature, so that’s why you’re working up a sweat.”

After completing Volume 2, Tifa was sweating profusely. She felt unthinkable pain throughout her whole back.

“Alright, any questions? If you do, now’s your chance.”

She wanted to say, yes, but nothing came to mind at the moment.

“If not, then we’ll move onto Volume 3.”

“Huh?” she couldn’t help but shout. Her whole body was screaming in pain. Zangan ignored her and continued.

“Volume 3 is for chest and abs. We’re going to train your front body. The pectoralis major muscle is roughly divided into three parts: upper, middle and lower. There are several different ways to effectively train it, but I’ll teach you the basic concepts.”

“Alright…”

“At your age, your overall motor skills are complete, and in that regard, you excel. You haven’t had any special training, have you? If so, then you must have been born with this. Treasure it.”

“I will.”

She felt energy pour into her body. Perhaps listening to Zangan talk with a relaxed mind helped her to recover from fatigue.

“After a while, we’ll concentrate on building your muscles. But you will not be using any equipment except your body. We won’t be using barbells or dumbbells until you’re much older. Besides, our Zangan-ryu hardly finds them necessary. That is because I prescribe individual fighting styles that suit each of my students. You don’t need arms built like logs or a bulky chest. What you need is to build up a fighting style that will utilize those reflexes, that body, and your speed. Well, what do you want to do? Shall we call it a day?”

“No. Please go on.”

She didn’t want to disappoint the first person who had managed to earn her respect.

“Yes, that’s the spirit! Alright. But we’ll stop here for today. Let’s call this current level of fatigue your limit. Keep it in mind. You have a long way before you can try to challenge that limit to surpass it. Continuity is more important now than ever.”

On their way back, a realization came over Tifa regarding Zangan’s test. It didn't annoy her. If her father tried to make her work like that she’d probably stop talking to him for three days in a row. With those thoughts in mind, she walked her teacher back to the inn.

“Say hello to your father for me.”

As she stood in front of her house she could smell the scent of spices in the air. Spices that her mother liked to use in her best recipe. It was her father’s favorite dish, but since Tifa didn’t really like it, it was hardly ever served at the dining table.

She opened the door and said, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” Her father, dressed in an apron, peeked out at her from the kitchen.

“This smell… Huh? Is it mom’s?”

“I was really craving it... Oh, but I made something else for you.”

She was filled with remorse. She didn’t like the way he looked or the tone of voice he used when trying to gauge her mood, but it was all her fault for making it that way.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by pekotranslates

Proofread by Eerie

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 01-24

Hello, this is @odekopeko from twitter. To make things easier to follow for people, I decided to post the translations of the ToTP Tifa's parts that I did.

Episode 1-Traces of Tifa-

Written by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by Peko & Eerie

The wind blowing across the meadow caresses her hair, stirring up memories in Tifa Lockhart of her hometown. The winds that descend from the slopes of Mt Nibel toward the village used to always whip up her hair into a mess.

"Hey, Tifa, you’re used to this?" says Aerith, pointing her finger towards the sweeping meadows of the Grasslands.

It hadn't been long since they met, yet Aerith felt like an old friend.

Tifa turns her back towards another strong gust of wind that springs forth, billowing over the grass. They have an unexpectedly long journey ahead of them.

"Used to what? You mean, to the Grasslands?" Tifa turns to find Aerith now walking beside her.

"No, I mean walking like this. You know, through meadows… or the vast plains."

"Hmm, well I don't dislike walking. Think of it as…a form of training."

"Uh-huh, so you’re that type. I get it."

"But I do prefer hiking in the mountains because I get to see the changing landscapes."

"Same! I'm used to going on picnics, but I'm so over this!"

"Well, this feels like hiking to me. Picnicking is more about the picnic baskets and just having fun."

"I see... So Tifa, have you ever gone picnicking?"

"Yeah.” She recalls her childhood in the village. "At least something like it. But I called it something else."

"What?”

Embarrassment comes flooding back to her along with memories of the events.

“Tea parties.”

“Hmph!” Red XIII saunters past them with an amused snort. From his blazing red fur to his flaming tail, his physical appearance is, to say the least, that of a beast. Yet, there is a great disparity between his outward appearance and his inner intellect. Something Tifa still isn’t accustomed to.

“What were your tea parties like? I want to know!” says Aerith with sparkling eyes.

“Sure!”

But where exactly should she begin?

※

Nibelheim is a small village located at the foot of Mount Nibel. Its history began when it was simply a destination spot for people seeking the mountains' uncommon flora and fauna, a mere settlement consisting of a cluster of households which provided meals and lodgings for mountain climbers.

Not long after, Shinra, in search of a base for its cutting-edge research, away from any possible interference from the Republic of Junon, set its sight on this land.

They discovered mako energy there the following year, in 1960, and thus began building a facility they named the Shinra Mansion. After this they started the construction of the Nibel mako reactor which had Shinra gathering workers and laborers from all over the country. The work ended in 1968 – at that time, the village was at its peak activity.

However, as the mako reactor aged and kept deteriorating, it was only a matter of time before operations ceased.

It is worth mentioning here that the village’s inability to maintain their livelihood led to a decrease in its inhabitants. The disbursements from Shinra relating to land use fees and management of Shinra’s affairs was the only means of living for those who remained. Even after Shinra had settled their business, the aging facility would continue to support the town economically.

Things could not continue this way. But even though that thought weighed on everyone's mind, the jumbled and incoherent voices, full of apprehension for the future, were carried off by the winds that blew from Mt Nibel and vanished.

※

“There were four kids in the village who were the same age as me. All of them were boys. We used to play together so often that our parents called us the ‘Gang of Four.’ They were the members of my tea party,” says Tifa.

“Hmm, but if we’re counting you and those four boys you were with,” Aerith asks, “shouldn’t there have been five?”

“Well, one of them was Cloud. I wish he would just turn us down, but most of the time he'd ignore us, which led to so many fights. They thought he was really a strange kid, that he was dangerous.”

Yes, it was that young Cloud Strife who would march on ahead of them as if he was the one in charge.

※

Tifa was born into the Lockhart family in 1987. Her father’s name was Brian, and her mother’s name, Thea.

However, eight years later, Thea passed away from her illness and ever since then Tifa had been raised by her father. The things he wasn’t comfortable teaching her, the women of the village gladly stepped in to help. They taught her everything from sewing to cooking, or any other skill they felt a daughter should learn from her mother.

Theirs was a village steeped in the old traditions of the Republic. Men worked outside while women maintained the household. There was a tendency for the people to think that a woman’s happiness depended on the man she would spend her life with.

Emilio, Lester, Taylor and Tifa had been together since infancy. They were the eldest in their families, and all their mothers were close. The four of them grew up playing together. But, ever since Tifa’s mother passed away and her circumstances had changed, everyone began treating her as that “poor little girl.”

When she turned ten years old, she noticed that the way her friends looked at her felt different from before, their gazes lingering with a budding awareness of her as a possible future life partner. This was followed by a persistence in the boys to insinuate their feelings and compete with one another for her affection.

Despite the weariness she felt over their advances, their schemes to buy time alone with her, she found it difficult to turn them down because she knew it would hurt their feelings. So, even though she didn’t mean to hurt anyone, she pretended not to pick up on their romantic cues, and if any one of the boys made his intentions too obvious, she would dodge him with some vague reply.

It wasn’t long after that the boys started talking about leaving town. The boys in Nibelheim were incensed with this talk. A successful career was waiting for them at Shinra! They were going to get rich in Midgar!

Each one held onto his own separate dream, yet the message she heard was the same. There were promises to provide for her, to protect her… The pretty picture they painted of their future with her wasn’t any different. To those boys, she stood as a symbol that they had succeeded in life, as a victory trophy.

On her twelfth birthday, her father gifted her a new pair of wedge sandals, which she put on and went out for a stroll. The sandals were the latest fashion from Midgar, but they certainly were not suitable for her usual village strolls.

As she scrutinized each of her steps, the village chief, Zonder, called her out.

“Why, if it isn’t Tifa Lockhart! Happy birthday! Our cat just gave birth to a litter, so how about taking one as a birthday gift? I already talked to Brian. Come on over and see for yourself!”

She had mentioned to her father of her desire to have a cat so many times before, and now her dream would finally come true!

Tifa followed Zonder to his home where she peeked into a wooden crate at the slumbering kittens. For a long time, she stood there and studied each one before she finally made her choice.

“That one? We call him Maru. Well, he’s going to be yours so of course you can name him anything you like, but I hope you will keep the name.”

On her way home, the kitten nearly bolted from her arms. Her frantic movements when trying to keep it from jumping made her lose her balance, and unable to brace herself in those stylish, city sandals, she took an awkward tumble on the ground while shielding the kitten.

※

Dr. Sanku diagnosed her with a sprained right ankle.

“My sandals were broken, and then the area where I had grazed my ankle got so infected, I ended up in bed with a fever for a week. What made it even worse was finding out Maru went missing because my dad accidentally left the door open.”

“Yikes! When it rains, it sure does pour, doesn’t it? Wait, so you did end up keeping the name Maru.”

“My father involved the whole village in search of that lost kitten. Our village chief must have told everyone my cat’s name by then, so everywhere people went they would call out for “Maru”. I know it sounds awful, but the cat and its name were two completely innocent things, you know.”

Note: Some people have mentioned that Maru, transliterated to English, sounds like the word “mal” in French, which means bad/evil.

After her fever subsided, family friends came to visit. The joy she felt was short-lived, and by the third day, Tifa had had enough.

“It’s too much trouble with people coming in and out every day, and I don’t think I can finish all the snacks they brought either.”

She needed time to be alone.

“Don’t say that,” said her father.

“Then can I go outside? I want to help look for Maru too, and the doctor said I should try walking, remember?”

“All right. You can go the day after tomorrow.”

“What about tomorrow? Please?”

“I have to go to the mountains. We’re behind on repairs on that pathway to the mako reactor.”

“I can do my walking exercises on my own. I promise I won’t go anywhere outside the village.”

Her father brooded over the thought. Tifa had an idea of what was going through her father's head - he probably felt hurt by her words. The idea of her not needing his help no doubt irritated him.

“All right. Now listen to me…”

What ensued was a long lecture on the dos and don’ts, and every single precaution under the sun. Tifa listened without protest.

The next morning, at the exact moment after her father had left for the mountains, as if waiting on cue, a visitor called on her. It was Cloud’s mother, Claudia Strife.

“I’m really sorry for coming so early in the morning, but I wanted to bring him to you.”

There was a kitten nestled in Claudia’s arms. It was Maru.

“Oh, thank you! Where did you find him?”

“Cloud found it yesterday, over at the mountain gate. I told him to bring the cat over to you right away, but that boy wouldn’t listen! So, here I am instead.”

Tifa thanked Claudia, and then took Maru upstairs with her to her bedroom.

“Welcome home, Maru. Never thought Cloud even knew about you.”

Now that she had no need to search for Maru, going outside no longer seemed appealing. Although she did bring up the topic of walking practice in earnest, the pain still lingered.

Emilio came over to visit then.

“Come on, time for exercise!” he said while raising a basket up to his chest. “I brought you tea and some fruits.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s try going down to the waterfall. At least there we’d still be honest if we tell him we were inside town limits.”

“Did my dad say something to you?”

“Yeah, he asked me to escort you during your walking exercises. Said for me to make sure you don’t leave the village. Stuff like that.”

Emilio seemed uneasy. He must have thought there was something special behind her father’s request for his help.

As she left the house accompanied by Emilio, they bumped into Lester. In his arms was, as she had expected, a basket. The fleeting look of dissatisfaction that crossed his face did not escape her notice.

Even though it was the village's fountainhead, everyone simply called the place they were headed to "The Waterfall"; it served as an outlet for collected water in Nibelheim.

The boys escorted her down to the waterfall's basin and helped to support her as she lumbered on her injured leg. When they arrived at their spot, Tifa noticed that Taylor was already there, looking for a dry place for them.

It was now apparent that her father had called all three of her friends.

“Since it’s almost time for lunch,” said Lester, “I brought some sandwiches. We made the ham ourselves!”

Emilio and Lester cheered. Taylor’s family’s ham recipe always turned out delicious. Even Tifa, who had been feeling gloomy, couldn’t help expressing her delight.

When the four of them gathered, the conversation usually turned to Midgar, the city of the boys’ dreams. There was a school in Midgar, and students had to study hard. The kids in the slum learned reading and writing from volunteers who came from Midgar. Perhaps their schooling was on the same level as the slum kids.

The shortcut to getting into Shinra Company from the slums was through Soldier, and they wondered how likely it was for a Soldier to die. They thought that money was the solution to every problem for people on the Plate. There were some facts, myths, and misunderstandings in their discussions, but the looks on their faces were serious.

For Tifa, Midgar became, in its own way, a subject of great interest to her. She couldn’t help thinking about this faraway world, this big city, with wonder and excitement.

“If you go and live in Midgar, would you ever want to come back here?” said Tifa.

“If I can’t adapt to city life, then there’d be no other choice.”

“I don’t want people here looking at me like I’m some loser, so if that ever happens, I’ll probably move to another city.”

“But if none of us come back, you’ll be lonely, won’t you, Tifa?” “Who knows?” she said. “You might even forget about me.”

Tifa felt embarrassed the moment the words left her mouth. It sounded like she was sulking, and sure enough, Emilio and the others started trying to cheer her up. As they left the water basin, the boys started talking over each other.

“The picnic was fun! Let’s do it again sometime!”

“You call that a picnic? We need to go out farther for that.”

“You can have picnics nearby. Don’t get it mixed up with hiking.”

“How about a tea party?” Tifa chimed in. “Tea parties seem so elegant and lovely.”

She recalled a photo of herself sitting on her mother’s knee while her mother sat at an outdoor tea table set up on a meadow, sipping tea with some of her wealthier relatives during the Republic Era. Her mother’s grandparents may have been in the photo too.

“Tea party? What’s that?”

“Well, if Tifa wants to do one, then I’ll be happy to!”

“Me too!”

The “tea parties” continued until the numbers of parties became less frequent, and then one by one the boys all left town.

※

“The boys kept talking about Midgar so much that eventually I looked to Midgar as my rival. I wanted to wear the latest fashion that the girls there wore, so I asked someone who was good at needlework to help me make them. And it had to be fabrics that we couldn’t get from our general store. I even learned how to bake sweets. Up until then, I don’t think I had ever tried to get any boy’s attention.”

“Making Midgar your rival, eh? I like that about you Tifa.” It was Barret Wallace, who they hadn’t noticed was right behind them.

The spring when her friends said they would be leaving town had arrived. Their time together was coming to an end. This premonition of things to come made her unexpectedly emotional.

Late that night, she set her mind to baking a cake. She wavered on whether she should bake cookies, but a cake just seemed so much more appropriate for the occasion and would make this Spring memorable for them.

She quickly checked the kitchen pantry, jotting down all the missing ingredients, and then dashed out to the General store which was owned by Emilio's family.

As she stood in the front of the store, she felt someone’s gaze on her back. She turned and saw Cloud Strife. Their eyes met.

Usually when that happened, he would look away and run off somewhere, but today Cloud seemed different. She saw his mouth move.

He said something but Tifa couldn’t hear it. She tilted her head to the side. The motion caused Cloud to dash off, and she instinctively chased after him.

She stopped just as they were about to bump into each other, and Cloud quickly mumbled, “Midnight. At the Water Tower.”

“Okay.”

When he heard her response, Cloud took off running as if he was trying to evade her. He didn’t have to do that, she thought, since she, herself, was frantically running away from him to get home.

The ingredients! She forgot to buy the ingredients! Her father watched her with a puzzled expression, but she pretended to be upset over something to escape any questioning, and went to her room where she could compose herself.

Maru was on top of the bed, and she picked him up and held him in her arms as she sank to the floor. Her heart was beating wildly. No, it wasn’t just because she had been running.

When was the last time they spoke to each other? Yes, that’s right. Maru went missing several times after his first breakout when Cloud found him and gave him shelter. It happened so many times after that that Tifa realized, if left alone, he would come back on his own after a few days. But, still, whenever he went missing, she went out looking for him. She wasn't allowed to go outside much, but there were monsters roaming those mountains…

When she was at the mountain gate, searching for Maru and calling out his name, she saw Cloud walking down. He noticed her too but refused to look at her.

"I saw Maru. Right where you're about to step in," Cloud said, as he brushed past her.

“Thanks.”

Cloud headed back toward the village without stopping, but finally turned around and said to her, “Don’t you feed him? I saw him eat a bird.”

“I do!”

In an act of fierce protest, she stormed into the mountains, and sure enough there was Maru with his mouth covered in blood.

“When was that?”

Maru was on her lap. She petted him, and he purred with eyes half-closed from bliss.

When they were younger, she and Cloud used to play together a lot. Their houses were right next to each other, and it was easy to go back and forth.

“Cloud has such a beautiful face,” her mother once complimented him at the dining table. Did that happen when she was seven, or was it eight? For some reason that compliment made her feel happy and a bit shy.

Her mother had given her a knowing wink, which didn't escape her father's notice - he scowled at them. This moment became one memory she had of her family life before her mother passed away.

When did Cloud start to drift away from everyone? Did something happen between him and the other boys? What was clear in her mind was that it must have had something to do with her mother’s death, which led to a terrible incident. But he stopped coming over to play even before then.

“I wonder why…”

Cradling Maru in her arms, she went over to her window, where she spotted the water tower in the middle of the village. If they meet there, everyone might see them. Oh, so that’s why he wanted to meet her at midnight. By then everyone would be asleep.

What time was midnight again? Twelve o’ clock at night, right? Did Cloud really trust that she’d be able to understand him just like that?

“Cloud is…Well, never mind.”

There was no point in playing guessing games now.

“Hey, what do you think I should wear?”

Maru was completely disinterested. He jumped out of her arms and strolled towards the bed.

There was a knock on her door, and she heard her father���s voice.

“Tifa?”

She opened the door, and saw him standing in the hallway, blinking sleepily.

“I’m going to bed early tonight. The repairs on the rope bridge have been giving us some trouble lately.”

“Okay, I understand. Please get some rest.”

“Oh.” He looked uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong ?” “You were in a bad mood earlier.”

"When you say things like that, of course it puts me in a bad mood," laughed Tifa.

“Alright, I see.”

Her father laughed too. He told her good night, and then went back down to his bedroom.

As she was choosing what outfit to wear, the realization came to her that this would be the first time she would sneak outside at midnight behind her father’s back, and with, of all people, Cloud Strife! This night was special. Her spirit soared. Sleep was the last thing on her mind.

After dressing up, she took a glance out the window. It was almost time. However, unlike how she had imagined it, there were many windows still lit up. No sight of Cloud anywhere near the water tower. She turned off her lights and went out.

Maru tried to follow her out, so she led him back to her room and closed the door behind her.

Leaning in close, she listened at her father's bedroom door. He was snoring peacefully. She tip-toed downstairs, careful with each and every step. After passing through the living room, she opened the entrance door.

The moment she stepped outside, she took a deep breath. The sky was filled with stars, stars that looked like they were falling down around her.

Was Cloud waiting for her on that water tower, thinking of her with special emotions, emotions that were more than a friendship? Would he confess those feelings to her? If that were the case, how would she respond?

Did she even like him?

She held a hand up to her heart and thought it over. Yes, there was no mistaking it. She liked him. However, this "fondness" she had for him was different from just wanting to spend time alone with him.

Cloud has such a beautiful face. She recalled her mother's words, and how her mother went on to say, "Well, I think he's even more beautiful than your great hero, Sephiroth."

Her mother compared Cloud to a Soldier from Shinra Company – who the youth in those days touted as the great hero, Sephiroth – as a way of complimenting Cloud. Tifa remembered thinking in her head at that time, "Oh, is he?"

Yes, the reason why her heart was racing now was because Cloud was unreachable, a thing of beauty. Like the stars.

"Thanks, Mom." She felt less nervous; her footsteps became lighter. She sprinted toward the water tower.

Cloud was already there. He sat on the scaffold, swinging his legs to and fro. The last time she came to the water tower, they were still small kids. What tone of voice should she use to talk to him? Well, normal is best. Wait, how did she normally sound?

"Thanks for waiting!"

Was that too artificial?

The things Cloud told her at the water tower were nothing extraordinary. He told her he was going to leave town when spring came. That he was different from everyone else. All the boys said the same thing to her in the end. But even so, she wasn't disappointed.

Was it due to some sort of spell cast on her the night of the stars falling down? Or was it perhaps the sight of Cloud seeming slightly enthusiastic that she found so endearing? That promise she suggested they make was just a simple idea.

"Hey, promise me something. When you become famous, and if I'm ever trapped or in trouble, promise you'll come and save me."

Just a simple idea, yet the moment they exchanged words, it became an irreplaceable promise. And it was that night that also made her see Cloud, whom she adored, as an ordinary boy. Tifa fell in love with Cloud. It was the kind of "love" where she wanted to be with him. That was how she felt.

Just as the winds from Mt. Nibel lost its bite, her tea party friends departed on their journey. Emilio showed up the night before to tell her that he promised to come back for her, and then hopped onto the truck that transported equipment to repair the facility and left the village, leaning out the window and waving goodbye the whole way.

Meanwhile, a helicopter came for Lester and Taylor. It was a privilege reserved for candidates who enlisted with Shinra Company.

Lester said his farewell speech to her vigorously, and then just as vigorously pulled her into an embrace. Meanwhile, Taylor fidgeted behind him, without saying a word. Time was almost up, and Tifa reached over to hug him instead. Taylor must have resented Lester, who he had seen hugging other girls who came to send him off.

When the weather turned warm, Cloud also left the village. She heard he had hitched a ride on a Shinra Army truck that came late at night. Due to some issues with his paperwork, his enlistment got delayed, and the helicopter that was supposed to come get him was engaged elsewhere, in battle.

They didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to one another, to make plans to meet each other again, or even just to hug.

Her predictions were correct. Tifa chuckled to herself. She smiled, and then the tears fell.

As Nibelheim became shrouded in silence, Tifa turned thirteen years old. Her father threw her a grand celebration. But not a single birthday card came from any of the boys who left the village. Perhaps they were so busy with pursuing their new life that they had forgotten her. She chased away her loneliness with those thoughts.

※

“Hey, Tifa.” It was Barret calling her, looking worried.

“Hm?”

“You went quiet all of a sudden. What got into you?”

“Oh, sorry. It just...all these memories are coming back to me. Now where was I?”

“About Midgar being your rival.”

“Okay, then next up is the fateful encounter with my Master.”

[micasasolis]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 25-39

She spent her time alone, reading books, sewing, and cooking, with no one else to talk to except her father. It didn’t take long for Tifa to grow accustomed to this life - she even enjoyed it.

She never knew the world could be so peaceful, which made her realize that maybe this was what Cloud liked. Maybe he liked being by himself and being alone didn’t make him feel lonely, and who was she to decide that he was ever unhappy? She was ashamed of those arrogant thoughts.

All he did was refuse to do things that he didn’t want to do, or that he found too bothersome. Compared to him, she was the exact opposite. If she had the strength to not care what others thought, how different would things be? It opened endless possibilities.

“Tifa,” her father called to her. “Maru’s gone missing again. Would you go look for him?”

“What, again?”

If left alone, she was sure one of their neighbors would feed him, or he’d go and hunt birds or other small prey on his own. She wondered how her father would feel if she told him, “Don’t worry, he’ll come back on his own.” She pictured his expression changing. What kind of an owner wouldn’t go out looking for their missing cat? What would the neighbors think of her? And wouldn’t she regret it if something bad happened to him?

“Maru, where are you?!”

It wasn’t easy trying to be like Cloud.

Maru didn’t seem to be anywhere in the village, so she decided to search near the mountains.

As she walked, gazing at the clouds floating above, she suddenly found herself at Gunsler River. There was a cool breeze. She realized, once again, that she was distracted from her search, so she turned to leave... But, fearing the possibility that he had fallen into the river, she glanced back.

“Huh?”

Among the familiar sights, she saw a strange figure – either a young man or an elderly person – standing upright in the middle of the raging currents. His body was massive, his bare shoulders broad, and he had arms thicker than any she had ever seen in her village. His hair was an intense silver and tied back in a long mane. Cloud also grew out his back hair, but this man’s hair was much longer than his.

The man braced himself against the currents so as to not get swept away. She remembered Emilio had fallen into this predicament once. The villagers had to gather all the rope they could find, and send out a boat to go and save him. It was decided then and there that no children under ten would be allowed near Gunsler River without an adult tagging along. During certain seasons, even the adults found it difficult to stand in the river.

She recalled the terrifying image of Emilio crying out for help.

“Are you okay? I’ll call someone for help!”

After calling out to him, she started running toward the village.

“There’s no need! Come look!” She heard the man’s voice from the river.

Tifa stopped in her tracks, and turned around to find him standing with one leg suspended in the air. He stood on his left foot, while his right leg stretched up, the toes reaching above his head.

The muddy stream split away into pools as it beat against his leg. Even without trying it herself, she knew that posture was difficult to maintain.

Next, just as his right leg looked like it was about to swiftly come down, he swerved into a jump so high that it seemed to reach the limits of what she could see. He then dashed along the rocks that appeared along the river surface, and with one last leap landed in front of Tifa.

He held out his massive hand toward her.

“I’m Rosha Zangan. Come on, shake my hand!”

Tifa was compelled to return his handshake.

“Ow!”

Zangan held her hand in a tight grip. Were grownups supposed to be like this?

“It hurts!”

“My apologies.”

Zangan quickly released his grip but then immediately seized both of her arms.

“Hoho!”

Tifa froze in fear. Was she possibly in danger?

“Calves are pretty nice too.”

No, this couldn’t be good!

“Please stop!” She was finally able to raise her voice. That fierce cry of protest made Zangan recoil from her, and she managed to wrestle free and make her escape.

Note: This is the first time I’ve ever seen Zangan’s full name. I’m not sure if the transliteration is correct. In Japanese it is spelled ローシャ・ザンガン, with other possible variations of ローシャ being Rocher, Rocha, and Rosya.

Once she got home she took a shower, trying to wash all of it away. A moment of relief came, and then her father returned home. He was holding Maru in his arms.

“Zonder was giving him food at the town hall. Had to give the man a few choice words.”

“But I’m glad we found him.”

She had no intention of reporting the incident with Zangan to her father. If she told him, there would be only one outcome, and that was being forbidden to go to the river.

“Oh, Tifa, by the way… There’s a famous martial arts teacher staying in our village. I heard he traveled around the world, acquiring all sorts of knowledge, and wants to teach us exercises for health and longevity. Sounds shady, doesn’t he? Guess he wants to show us these so-called exercises in the square tomorrow. How about we go and have a look together?”

“Alright. Let’s go see.”

She was convinced this “teacher” was the suspicious man at the river.

※

Nibelheim became restless with the arrival of the traveler. It was a different kind of excitement than when they heard the news on the radio or from the daily papers. Nearly all of the villagers gathered at the public square in front of the town hall.

Unsurprisingly, the village chief was amongst the crowd, proudly introducing everybody to Rosha Zangan.

"To the citizens of Nibelheim, I know your mornings are busy, so let me not waste anymore of your time! First, we will start with Zangan School's longevity exercises. I, Rosha Zangan, staked my life at devoting myself to learning hand-to-hand combat, and one of the things that formed the basis of my training were these longevity exercises. After acquiring it, you must practice day in and day out, and before you know it, your life span will have increased. Come! Let us live our fullest until the day we die!"

"Damn right!" interrupted the village chief with a loud, booming laugh. A few people responded with fake laughter.

"Now then, spread out your arms. Try not to bump into anything around you. Make room for yourself and settle into your positions.”

The villagers began to stir sluggishly. Zangan watched their actions and nodded over and over again in approval.

“Good friends of Nibelheim, you must first do this. Point your hands in the air, fingers up toward the sky. Both arms pressed against your ears. Palms, facing forward. Straight up! Stretch everything up until you can feel the tips of your fingers burning! Up, so the angels in heaven can reach down and seize you by the wrist! Stretch all the way up, until your body feels itself floating. Take your time… Yes, that’s it. When you’ve reached as far as you can, stand on your tiptoes!”

Zangan smiled and looked over at Tifa whose arms frantically shot up in the air. She stretched her entire body upwards, and went on her tiptoes as she pictured herself being pulled upwards.

The adults around her lost their balance. They faltered in their steps as they tried to regain their footing and had to start over. But despite her wobbly pose, and to her great surprise, Tifa maintained her balance. Zangan nodded at her in approval.

“When I count to ten, loosen up!” warned Zangan.

“Eight…Nine...Ten!”

The villagers tried to relax. Tifa heard people around her begin to make excuses for not being able to do it properly.

“Come on! One more time! If your body is shaky, then so is your heart! You’re wobbling all over the place!”

“That’s right!” answered the village chief, followed immediately by laughter from the other villagers.

When the villagers kept repeating the same mistakes they did at the start, Zangan made his way up to the central platform while keeping his eye on Tifa. He probably wanted to move to where he could get a better view.

It made her nervous, and she began to sway. Zangan smirked.

“Next, raise your arms up just like before. Arms pressed to the side of your ears. Then raise your right leg and bend it in a 90° angle. Got it?”

Zangan nimbly guided the villagers by his example.

“Now freeze! If you think about trying not to wobble, you’ll start losing your balance. Try picturing yourself turning into a statue. Having a good imagination can help discipline your body.”

Their eyes met again, and she sensed his approval.

“Alright now you’re going to stretch yourself up again. Feel yourself floating up just like that, to a faraway town, and then back to the village again. You’re visiting your friends in a faraway place. Whoa, you just scared the daylights outta them!”

Some villagers who lost their balance laughed it off. Many ended up crouched over on the ground, but Tifa remained standing on only her left foot, her body as still as a rock.

“Now what’s next? Slowly spread your arms out wide, even height with your shoulders.”

Tifa followed Zangan’s instructions. When she spread her arms out wide, she found that it was easier to maintain her balance.

“Imagine yourself carrying a pole on your shoulders. Helps you keep your balance, doesn’t it? But you’ll start to feel it in your arms soon. Find out what your limit is. One, two, three…”

Zangan counted slowly. Just as he said, her arms began to ache. She wondered why she was even doing all this? She could stop if she wanted to.

The surprising answer was that it came from the Nibelheim stubbornness. She did not want Zangan, of all people, to think of her as weak.

“Wow, Tifa. I’m seeing a new side of you,” her father said in admiration. He was nearby, still crouched over. But she dismissed his words.

Her eyes followed Zangan. He was going around the public square observing some of the children, approaching each one and while he held up their arms… She saw him feeling their upper arms! Then, he crouched down and poked at their calves.

Tifa recalled what happened to her yesterday. So he thought her calves were also nice?

“Oh!” She gasped aloud, shocked at her own thoughts. The words “slave trade”, which she heard somewhere before, suddenly came to mind.

What if he was trying to trick the kids with strong, sturdy legs - the ones who looked like they’d be hard-working - into going with him so that he could sell them off somewhere? She had heard that there were even orphanages in the city, which housed small children who were sold at a high price into the slave market. What if Zangan came from one of those places?

Her arms started to feel heavy, the muscles screaming in agony.

“Discipline comes from having a good imagination,” shouted Zangan.

Her entire body began to quake. No amount of discipline could help her keep her balance, and she faltered.

“Ugh!”

The moment her right foot touched the ground, she heard his deep voice.

“Alright, that’s far enough. Now raise your left leg, and same as before, bend it at a 90° angle.”

Not willing to follow the instructions of a slave trafficker, Tifa crouched down. Zangan took notice but he overlooked it, continuing to give out instructions and constant directions to everyone else.

Some who failed mid-pose attempted again midway through. Despite needing break after break, even Tifa’s father kept at it.

Looking at the current circumstances, she would have regretted not stopping herself this time. Yet there was a power flowing from the words Zangan spoke as he guided them. The power to move people, and one that could withstand hardship. His voice was a kind she had never heard before, different from anyone else from her village.

When the villagers wanted to get someone to do something they would “ask” or “invite” them to do it, and if that didn’t work they would get upset.

However, Zangan was different. He led them or even encouraged them. He couldn’t possibly be a slave trafficker. She had been deluded by an imagination gone wrong, and almost missed out on learning about this new world.

Tifa stood up. There was still time.

“Well then, think you can handle what’s coming next? It’ll hurt!”

“Have mercy on us!” cried the village chief in a pitiful tone. Laughter spread across the square. Zangan grinned and glanced over at Tifa. He no longer looked like a slave trafficker in her eyes.

“Cross both arms over your chest, right hand touching your left shoulder. Left hand touching your right shoulder. As you’re doing so, bend both knees and lower your waist. Don’t stick your butt out. Easy there. You’ll feel it in your thighs. Easy… Easy…”

Focus. Pay attention. Take it easy. How many times have those words been repeated?

The movements made her conscious of every muscle in her body.

“Alright, we’ll stop here for today. If possible, I’d suggest doing this once every other day. But I don’t mind if anyone wants to try this everyday. Don’t even think about rushing yourself and using medicine. Today was a tough lesson. So for those of you whose legs are feeling pain, and also those of you with no backbone…”

“Nobody like that here!” jested the village chief to which cheers erupted.

“I won’t abandon any of you because that is not who I am. There will be a technique that fits your needs. Offer yourselves up until you find it. First of all, you need willpower and imagination. Those of you who have both of these things and wish to nurture it, let us meet here again tomorrow. Make the most of your encounters, and I wish you a better life!”

※

“But we didn’t meet the next day.”

“What?” said Aerith, surprised. She had her arms spread wide while listening to Tifa tell her story. “But I wanted to learn how to do it too!”

“I’ll teach you later.”

“Yes!”

“So then what happened?” Barret seemed interested.

“Right. Well, that night there was a gathering for only the adults. They swarmed around Master Zangan wanting to hear his stories. That’s when he started to criticize Shinra, saying that Shinra Company’s mako supremacy was the cause of the war; that they were originally an arms dealer and hadn’t stopped their developments, and were just exploiting the war, using it to try out their new products.”

“It’s all damn true! That ain’t criticism, he was just telling it like it is!”

“Yeah. Even my dad complained about the way Shinra did things sometimes, and our village chief blamed them over every inconvenience, but they couldn’t just nod and agree to everything an outsider was saying. Especially not a village that lived off Shinra’s paycheck. What if he was from Shinra and was trying to get them to talk?”

Aerith’s eyes widened. “So Zangan was a spy?”

“That’s not it. But I’m sure that thought must have crossed everyone’s minds. As a result, they decided to give him just the right amount of polite hospitality until they could send him off. Later on when I put everyone’s stories together, that was the idea they had.”

※

Before the break of dawn, she heard clicking noises at her window. Someone must be calling to her from outside. She couldn’t figure out who it was. Who would do such a thing? She was on the second floor.

Oh, yeah. It couldn’t be anyone else but him. She got up from her bed and opened the curtains. Sure enough, it was Zangan, gesturing for her to open her window. Tifa did so, but was nervous about her father finding out.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I’m sure you must have heard from your father that I was asked to leave before the break of dawn. There’s nothing I can do.”

Tifa nodded absentmindedly.

“There is something I would like to clear up. I am not a slave trafficker.”

“Huh?”

“You youngsters mistook me for a slave trafficker, while the older folks think I’m a spy. Did I hit the mark? You did give me the most vicious stare.”

“I’m sorry.”

Zangan laughed at her apology, and then said, “Tifa Lockhart, since the very moment we met, did you not feel my intense gaze? I’ll be direct. Will you be my pupil? You have the qualities and the capability. Your qualities being those flexible limb muscles and your firm body. Your capabilities being that spirit of yours. The body needs good imagination for discipline, and good imagination is borne from a sincere heart.”

“How can you know what’s inside my heart?”

“Hmph! Do you remember when we met at the river?”

She couldn’t exactly call their meeting something wonderful.

“Before you came along, many of your neighbors passed by and saw me, but the only one concerned enough to call out to me was you, Tifa. You were the only one.”

At that moment, he actually wasn’t in any trouble or danger. Tifa had been mistaken, and it made her awkward to be praised for having a good heart or capabilities based on that.

“Ah, dawn is approaching. I must pass on to you this book of secrets.”

Zangan took out a thin book he had concealed and held it up to Tifa.

“I staked my life on compiling the methods of basic training for the Zangan School of Martial arts in this very book. In this first volume, I’ve written a 12-step process that will teach you techniques on how to move and train your body. I’ve also included procedures on how to put these methods of training into practice. I will send the second and third installments at an appropriate time. And when you become an adult, I’m sure you will be a splendid practitioner in the art of hand-to-hand combat.”

“Practitioner of hand-to-hand combat.…”

“Well, I can't say whether or not you’ll become a martial artist, but it will make you stronger. If you grow stronger, you will be able to defeat your arch-enemy. Moreover, gaining the will and drive to make yourself stronger is perhaps the only way for you to defeat your arch-enemy.”

“My arch-enemy? Who would that be?”

“You, yourself. Your own weaknesses. Now you’re at an age where you have some knowledge of yourself. Let’s see… For example, what if you were to think to yourself, ‘I hate my father, and grownups, and my friends make me mad too. Why can’t they understand me? I’m special, so naturally they should know how I feel.’ You may begin to look down on everyone around you.”

“...”

“Before placing others beneath you, it’s important to know yourself first. The best way of training in hand-to-hand combat is to face yourself. Because how can one place value on someone else without even knowing oneself? Without having a reference point on which to form your judgement, your standards for evaluation may change depending on your feelings, mood, or even the weather. From that place of ambiguity, it’s easy to misjudge society, no? My teachings can serve as a reference point for you. That is, to confront your old enemy, which is yourself, and come to know who you are. That is, you must learn from the Zangan School of Martial Arts.”

“Alright…”

She didn’t really understand, and it seemed like Zangan was just talking out of excitement.

"Is it my fault or yours that you do not understand the meaning of my words? To make the right judgment you must come to know yourself well."

"Is that so..."

"Well, to put it simply, exercise is not just for the body but for the mind as well. The Zangan School of Martial Arts will do amazing things to your mind. That's the gist of it at least."

Zangan gave her a broad smile.

“I won’t force you. If you don’t need them, then simply burn those documents.”

“You want me to burn them?” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Well, that’s because they’re secret after all.”

※

“Hey…” Barret drew closer. “So what was written in that book of secrets?”

“I can’t tell anyone, not even you, Barret. It’s a secret.”

“When you meet the master, why don’t you apply?” asked Aerith teasingly.

“Hmph! I can already picture you two giggling the moment he turns me down.”

Suddenly Red XIII growled, the low bellow of a beast.

“What’s the matter, Red?”

“Please let me hear the rest of your story. And, Barret, stop interrupting her.”

[micasasolis]

She is from the land of divine women. Like her there is no one.

[micasasolis]

She is the most beautiful flower wandering the stars it shines more than the Sun.

[micasasolis]

To iron and fire learned to play.

[micasasolis]

The lights burn my face I can't find you How to get out of this punishment I am a prisoner of a cruel rhythm Here I am cracking There is anarchy in my movements And at the same time someone controls them My ligaments are falling I can't be free without you

Give me a clue Some trace To find you I'm dancing a broken dance I want to escape

Art: a stranger

[micasasolis]

You are the most dreamed landscape, and you shake the most solid sadness, and you answered every time I call you.  “We go slowly until we meet.”

[micasasolis]

Oh! My heart becomes a telltale.

art:sugarmints