The figure crouched quietly in the fork of two limbs of the ancient oak tree, swathed in shadow from the setting evening sun, soundless except for the barely recognizable sound of its slow and steady breathing. The position was uncomfortable, the bark of the tree hard and scratchy against the figure's bare legs, but the sensation of the rough bark was barely noticed, every sense in the figure's body focused on the ground below.
There was a crunch from the undergrowth, alerting the figure to the approach of its pursuer. It tensed, resisting the urge to yell in triumph. Its pursuer had fallen for its ruse! The figure had been careful to leave a trail for its pursuer to follow, a trail that was faint enough to seem accidental, as if left by the steps of a novice hunter. It clutched the massive, two-handed sword that it wielded tighter, one thumb stroking the leather mesh that covered the grip once, for luck. A shock of spiky blond hair fell across the figure's eyes as its head silently tracked the shadow who appeared below, marveling once again at the pursuer's amazing stealth. The shadow's feet fell silently on the sparse undergrowth of the forest, but its pace was a steady walk, its head lowered, tracking the ground ahead.
This pursuer, this shadow, it was following the trail that the figure had left. Good. That trail, the fake trail that looked as if it had been left by a novice hunter, continued under the ancient oak in which the figure was coiled in wait, on nearly twenty more feet before ending abruptly. The figure had been careful when it had covered that twenty feet in reverse, returning to the tree in which it now crouched. Its pursuer was no novice hunter, and it was possible that the shadow could anticipate the ambush, once it reached the end of the trail. But it would reach that end twenty feet too late.
Just as stealthily, the shadow that had been pursuing the blond-haired figure in the tree began to walk under the bulk of the ancient oak. The shadow's sword was still sheathed, showing that it did not expect an ambush. Could it be so easy? The figure could only pray that it would be. One stroke is all it would take. And then the figure would finally win!
It would drop just as the shadow finished passing under the tree, bring its mighty, two-handed sword around in a sweeping arc and finish it once and for all. Then, just when the figure was finally ready to leap, the shadow paused.
The heart of the blond-haired warrior leapt into its throat. No! The shadow could not stop now, not when it was so close to falling to the ambush!
The pause was brief. With a careless shrug that the figure knew all to well, the shadow continued on.
Time to move! The figure leapt, dropping from the tree without a sound just as the shadow finished passing below. I can do this! I will not fail! It's spiky blond hair was torn by the air as it fell with a barely audible whoosh, the loose clothes which it wore rippling as that same air rushed over them. I will not fail!
Without warning, the shadow below darted forward, out of harm's way, moving with speed that the now dropping figure could not believe any man could possess. Crushing a sudden feeling of impending defeat as quickly as it arose, the figure focused all of its attention onto its landing. It gave its legs just the right balance of resistance and give, cushioning its fall by diving into a controlled, forward somersault, as it turned the length of the Buster Sword to the side so that the weapon was parallel with the ground. The figure did not want to impale itself on its own sword at the end of such a gracious leap! That would be a truly incongruous end for any warrior.
It came out of the somersault and brought its sword up to launch the killing blow, but the shadow was already facing it and waiting, its own sword drawn long ago and held in a ready position. Another loss. Only by using surprise, only by catching its pursuer off-guard, would the figure have any chance of victory. The calm readiness in its opponents stance showed that it had anticipated the would-be ambush long before its execution. The ambusher had, it seemed, become the ambushee.
No hesitation. Once combat is engaged, there can be no hesitation. The figure's icy-blue eyes narrowed as it leapt forward immediately and brought its sword crashing against its opponent, as the other parried the blow with nightmarish ease.
You will lose. The figure fought against the thought, knowing that it brought destruction.
Lie! I will not lose! I cannot!
Another series of blows was exchanged, another loss added to the blond-haired figure's growing tally. The shadow repulsed its blows with barely an effort. Then the shadow launched a counter- offensive, and the figure had no choice but to fall back under the barrage of blows, forgetting any attempt to strike in a desperate attempt to stop any of the deadly swings from making contact. They came... too fast... too quick... the figure could not hold out...
You cannot fail! You must win!
And then, just like that, an opening. The figure took it without hesitation, even though it was unable to believe that its adversary would have committed such a grievous mistake. And its belief was justified.
The opening was merely a feint. Caught off-stride, the figure desperately tried to maintain its grip on its sword. To no avail. The sword of the pursuer, the shadow, connected with the hilt of its own. The impact was more than the figure's clenched hands could stand. The Buster sword went flying away, leaving the figure defenseless. And then the shadow's sword was at its throat.
Defeated, disgusted, the figure sank to its knees. It felt no fear, only anger. Anger at itself, for being so stupid. In any other situation, such carelessness as the blond-haired figure had shown today would have led to its death.
The shadow held the sword at the figure's neck for a moment longer, and then the blade was gone. With effortless ease, the pursuer sheathed its weapon and shook its head slowly. Then, with a sigh of relief, the shadow ran a hand through its spiky blond hair, not unlike the figure's own, and let a hint of a smile show on its features.
"You nearly had me there."
Nearly had me. As in failed to have me. As in failure. The figure shook its own head in disgust. "But I still lost."
"Nonetheless, it was a well-conceived and well-executed attack." The hint of praise that the figure heard in the pursuer's words was scarcely believable, and to the would-be ambusher, it felt undeserved. "If not for the scrapes you left on the bark of the tree when you climbed it, I might not have known you were there."
Stupid! So much effort not to leave a mark on the ground, but none to avoid the bark!
"Aeris?" the shadow asked, a hint of confusion and concern coming into its tone. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," the figure with the spiky-blond hair answered angrily, rising to its feet suddenly and stalking toward where the Buster sword lay glistening against the green and brown of the forest floor. With almost fanatic intensity, she picked the sword up and jammed it into the sheath that hung on her back, then turned to face her conqueror. Icy-blue eyes regarded her calmly, measuring her, and the anger of defeat faded a bit. There was no criticism there, no anger. And, although those eyes, those Mako eyes, often tried to hide it, there was fierce love there as well.
"I'm fine, Dad," Aeris Caitlin Strife said again, none of her former anger tainting the words. In a subconscious mimic of her father, she ran a hand through her own spiky-blond hair, palming the clip that she had used to hold it back and letting it fall free, shaking her head quickly to throw it back over her shoulders. She slipped the clip into a pocket in her loose, forest-brown tunic, matched with shorts of the same color, and grimaced. "I just didn't want to fail again."
Her father took a step toward her, and for a moment he looked concerned.
"I don't consider you a failure, Aeris," Cloud Strife reproached her calmly, his blue eyes warm and sincere. "You've shown marked improvement each time you've done this. Don't forget that I've got almost twenty years of experience on you. The ambush was well-laid, and your execution was flawless. It was a noble attempt."
"But I still failed," Aeris replied, kicking at a nearby stump dejectedly.
"True," Cloud admitted grudgingly. One hand gently squeezed her shoulder. "But, if nothing else, at least you succeeded in getting us out of another boring chat with the Colbores."
The sentence was delivered so calmly, so innocently, that Aeris couldn't help but giggle despite herself.
"Please, Dad. You know Mother doesn't like it when you call them that!" She tried to conceal her amusement as best she could, not wanting to encourage her father. Fred and Marcy Colburn were two of their closest neighbors back in Nibleheim, but even Aeris had to admit that their general view on life and their relative short-sightedness made them quite tedious company. Hence why her father had replaced the last syllable of their name with Bore, as opposed to Burn.
Cloud grinned, his icy-blue eyes twinkling with mirth. The last lingering pain of her defeat was gone, and Aeris let it go to embrace the anticipation of next time. Maybe next time, she would get HIM for a change!
"C'mon, we'd better start back." Cloud squeezed her shoulder once more and then let his hand fall away. The sun had almost finished its terminal descent to the horizon. "Mom's gonna' be mad if we don't make it back in time for supper."
Glancing up as the door to the dining room swung open, Tifa Lockhart-Strife turned her attention from the dinner table that she was in the process of setting, and smiled warmly at the person who entered the room as quietly as a cat.
"Aeris!" she exclaimed gladly. Then she frowned, glancing disapprovingly at her daughter's dirty, mud-covered clothes. However, she knew that the grime was most likely a result of her and Cloud's little 'game', as she had taken to calling it, and so she let Aeris's disheveled appearance pass, for the moment.
Ever since she had been old enough to talk, Aeris had wanted to be like her father, and the moment she had been strong enough to hold a toy sword she had demanded that her father teach her how to use it. At first, Cloud had refused, not wanting his daughter to brave the same road he had, but after Devin had been born and they had gotten settled down into the rebuilt Nibleheim, he had finally relented. She needs to know how to defend herself, he had said. And, if nothing else, the years of training Cloud had given his daughter had instilled a quiet sense of calm and duty into Aeris that seemed sorely lacking in her rebellious younger brother.
"Glad you're back, Laura will have dinner out in about a half hour," Tifa informed her calmly. Then she winked. "So who won?"
"Guess," Aeris replied forlornly. "Father beat me again."
"Beat her barely," Cloud amended as he walked into the room as well, grinning. Tifa could see that the afternoon's training session had been good for him. Even after nearly eighteen years of relatively mundane living, Cloud often felt the need to get out into the wilds every once in awhile, and the glow he seemed to be emanating was surely from the exercise which he and Aeris had just finished. "She tried to bushwack me. Nearly got me, too."
"Whatever," Aeris replied wistfully, pulling a chair out from the table and turning it around backwards. She sat down on it tiredly and rested her arms and chin on the backrest.
Tifa gave her daughter a sidelong glance. "Well, not just anybody can sneak up on your father, Aeris." She glanced at Cloud and raised an eyebrow. "There's a trick to it, you know."
"Oh really?" Cloud challenged, raising an eyebrow of his own. "And what is that, dearest?"
"I'll tell you in a second," Tifa replied. "Oh, Cloud, could you reach up and get the special silver off the top of the china cabinet? I'd appreciate it."
Cloud shrugged. "Sure," he agreed.
Tifa kneeled by Aeris's ear and whispered conspiratorially. "You know what the trick is, Aeris?"
Cloud was already walking to the china cabinet.
"You have too..."
Cloud turned away from her and glanced up toward the box of fine silverware on top of the cabinet.
"catch him..."
Still oblivious, Cloud stretched one arm up towards the waiting box.
"off... guard!" Tifa practically shouted the last word in her sentence, as she leapt away from her daughter and jumped toward Cloud. He had just enough time to glance over at her in sudden trepidation before she tackled him around the waist, sending both of them tumbling to the side.
"Works every time!" Tifa yelled gleefully, as she pulled Cloud into a headlock and quickly immobilized him.
"Hey!" Cloud protested, making a half-hearted attempt to break free. "No fair! You cheated!"
"All's fair in love and war, dearest!" Tifa countered, squeezing him affectionately. "If an old woman like me can sneak up on you, you're getting dull."
"You're hardly old!" Cloud protested with a grin. "You don't look a year past 25!"
"Ha," Tifa answered, squeezing him again. "That's one thing your father's always been good at, Aeris. Getting himself out of just about any situation." She kissed the top of his head and finally relinquished her grip, jumping to her feet. Cloud got to his feet a bit slower and dusted himself off, glancing at her reproachingly.
"I wish it was that easy," Aeris commented with a shake of her head. "There wasn't any box of silverware out in the forest today for me to use."
"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something, next time," Tifa said encouragingly. "Now go upstairs and wash up. You've got maybe twenty minutes before everyone starts showing up."
"Everyone?" Aeris asked in confusion. With a look of slowly dawning understanding, she glanced around the room and took in the banquet table that had been moved in, and the number of places that Tifa had been in the process of setting. The look of horror that crossed her face less than a second later was almost comical.
"Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "I forgot all about--oh no!" Without another word she leapt up and dashed out of the room. Tifa listened bemusedly until the sound of her boots pounding up the staircase of their house had faded into obscurity, then slipped an arm around Cloud's waist.
"You could have told her," she chided gently.
"I would have, but I figured I'd let you remind her," Cloud explained, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "I'm not as spry as I used to be, after all. If I'd reminded her of the reunion tonight, I'd have had to chase her all the way home!"
"You're gonna' catch hell if the Mayor's daughter has to come to our little reunion with dirt on her face," Tifa teased. "She'd never forgive you."
Cloud chuckled. "Don't see why she'd want to get all dressed up, anyway. Knowing them, Barret's gonna' come in covered in coal dust, Cid's gonna' be wearing a greasy flight suit, Red's gonna' be wearing, well, fur, and if Vincent or Yuffie show up, there's no telling what they'll be wearing. The only one I'd count on making any attempt to dress up for tonight is Reeve, and he's already told me he's tied up in meetings for the next week and won't be able to make it."
"And what about you, dear?" Tifa pointed out, glancing distastefully at Cloud's sweaty hunting clothes. "Is the Mayor of Nibleheim going to show up to dinner dressed to go mudding?"
"That would be most inappropriate," Cloud agreed, copying almost perfectly the nasal drone of one of his closest aides, Stefan Tyrone. Of all of Cloud's supporters, Tyrone was one of the strongest, but despite this a day had yet to pass when Tyrone didn't make some comment about the need for the careful maintenance of Cloud's public image.
Tifa burst out laughing. Eighteen years of domesticity had been good for her husband. Back in their fighting days, after the hunt for Sephiroth and the almost fatal battle with Messiah that had followed, Cloud had often seemed withdrawn, depressed, even morbid. But a happy marriage and two healthy children had changed all that. The Cloud of today possessed a strong sense of humor that would certainly have baffled the Cloud that had slain the mighty Sephiroth. It was a good change.
"Where's Devin?" Cloud asked, as he suddenly noticed that one of the aforementioned children was nowhere to be seen. "He should be helping you."
Tifa grimaced and extricated herself from Cloud's embrace, in order to allow herself to finish setting the table for the night's dinner.
"He's not back yet," she replied darkly. "I told him to get back by five, but, as usual, he seems intent on disobeying every word I say."
"It's just a stage," Cloud said with one of his characteristic shrugs. "He'll outgrow it."
"When?" Tifa demanded, as she set a place at the table for Red, moving the chair that had been placed there out and setting it against the wall. "He's going to be eighteen in less than five months, Cloud. I thought that whole teen rebellion thing was supposed to end long before that. I mean, look at Aeris! She's only nineteen, and yet she seemed to skip that whole rebellion stage entirely! In fact, she's more mature than half the people you have to deal with at the town meetings, in my opinion."
Cloud chuckled at that. "I'll admit Devin still seems a little rough around the edges. But you were a little hell-raiser too in your time, if I remember correctly."
"Hmmmph," Tifa responded noncommittally. "Still, he doesn't seem to want to listen to a word I say! What am I supposed to do? Whip him?"
Cloud sighed. "I'll talk to him, Tifa. Maybe I can get through somehow."
"And if you can't?" Tifa asked, as she finished with the table, setting an extra place for Vincent or Yuffie just in case one of them happened to show up.
"Then we'll get a whip," Cloud deadpanned. At Tifa's stern expression, he sobered a bit, and a thoughtful expression crept onto his face.
"You know, there's always the possibility of..."
"Don't even say it," Tifa interrupted, her voice adamant. "There's no way he's joining SOLDIER, no matter how much he thinks he wants to do it. I don't want him mixed up with that whole Shinra-Dyson mess. There's no way in hell I'm going to let my boy get sent off to fight over coal scraps."
Cloud nodded. "All right, no dice on that. Still, he does need to learn discipline, somehow. And he's certainly not doing that kicking around this mountain town with nothing to do but get in fights with our neighbor's kids."
Tifa groaned. "Speaking of that, I forgot to tell you. Mrs. Barnes called me again today and said that Devin caught her cat this morning and spray-painted a white stripe onto its back."
Cloud choked as he tried to suppress a sudden snicker, and Tifa watched impatiently as he did his best to keep a straight face.
"That's not good, is it?" he asked after he had recovered somewhat. "Still, you have to admit, that damn cat does annoy the hell out of us, and it does look kinda' like a skunk..."
Tifa's face darkened. "That's not all. He also gave Kenny Rogers' boy a bloody nose."
At that, Cloud's mirth disappeared. With a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, he sat down in the chair at the head of the banquet table and shook his head slowly. "Another fight, huh? All this before he left today? Do we know what it was about?"
"Not a clue," Tifa admitted. Seeing Cloud's suddenly tired expression, she walked over to him and slid her hands onto his shoulders.
"He does need to be disciplined," she said softly, as she began to gently massage his tense muscles.
"I know," Cloud answered dejectedly. "But what good will it do? If we ground him again, he'll just sneak out and do something stupid, like that time he broke the lock on the Chocobo stables and stampeded them all out into the field. If they hadn't been conditioned to return to their stable, that little prank could have caused some serious damage." As Tifa continued to massage his neck and shoulders, he relaxed into the chair and sagged back against her.
"How is it possible for two people to raise two completely opposite children?" he mused, as he let his head fall back so he could look up into Tifa's eyes. "On one hand, you have Aeris, calm, disciplined, polite. Then you have Devin. Hot-headed, rebellious, and rude. I'd like to find the psychiatrist who can figure out how THAT little split occurred."
Tifa didn't know how to respond to that, so she simply continued to massage Cloud's shoulders and stare into his icy-blue eyes. He looked away, finally, glancing around the table in contemplation.
"It's been another year, hasn't it?" he asked suddenly, as if finding the idea strange. "They all seem to blur. We've been doing this for, what, nineteen years now? I don't even remember the last time too clearly. I remember Yuffie showed up, which was a surprise, but that's about it. Is that the sign that you're getting old, Tifa? When stuff starts to blur together?"
"Maybe," Tifa admitted, though she didn't believe it. She had turned forty this last month, and that meant that she had barely a decade before she hit the big five-oh. Over the hill, as it was considered. Cloud was already 41, even though he didn't act it, and his active lifestyle kept him fit and strong enough to rival men who were half his age. Twenty years ago, when she had first left Seventh Heaven in Old Midgar to go on a crusade with AVALANCHE, she would have considered a woman of her current age an old hag. Now, of course, 60 year olds were the old hags. A 40 year-old was just coming into her prime!
"Still, until you start forgetting Aeris and Devin's birthdays, I won't put you into a retirement home," she added, hugging him close for a second before she straightened and headed for the kitchen to check on how the dinner was progressing, and see if Laura needed any last-minute help.
Despite the size of the massive, three-story mansion in which they now lived, the bottom story doubling for the Nibleheim Capital Building, the Strife family only kept one attendant in their house, Laura, who was their cook. Unlike some of the other noble families of nearby towns, the Strifes had always done largely for themselves, even after rebuilding Nibleheim practically from the ground up. This house had been built on the ruins of the old Shinra mansion, which had been torn down about the time the network of labs underneath it had been destroyed. The fact that they were living on a site that had once caused Cloud so much pain and suffering showed just how far they had all come in putting the painful events of the whole Sephiroth affair behind them. Aeris, the name they had given their child, was a part of that process as well.
Tifa remembered what Cloud had said when she had first suggested the name for their firstborn daughter.
"No. Absolutely not." He had been adamant, at first, and Tifa had understood, even though the understanding had hurt her. Even after all the time that had passed since her death, even after marrying her, Cloud had still felt too strongly for Aeris to name his child after her. It would be too easy to reopen the old wound her death had left in him every time he said her name.
So Tifa had demurred, giving up on the matter, though she thought the name felt right. Even though they had once rivaled for Cloud's affections, Tifa had cared for Aeris as well. She had been a comrade in arms, a noble woman, and a loyal ally. It had seemed fitting, to her, to name their firstborn daughter in honor of the woman who had given her life to save the world.
On the night before Tifa had gone into labor for the first time, Cloud had woken her up as he lay in bed beside her, and gazed deeply into her eyes with an expression of sudden peace. Even though he had previously forbidden the child to be named Aeris, they had still not settled upon another name to give her. And, that night, as he had stared into her eyes, he had seemed to finally let the past go. And so Aeris Caitlin Strife had been born.
"Then what should I do?" Cloud asked as she moved to leave. "You know I'm practically useless in a kitchen, Tifa."
"Go change, then!" Tifa ordered. "And chop some firewood while your at it, mister." She smiled to let him know that her last remark was said in jest.
"A choppin' I'll go," Cloud agreed heartily as he rose from the table and winked at her before turning to walk from the room. She watched him until his body disappeared behind the hinged door to the stairwell, and then turned to enter the kitchen.
If there was anything that Cain Highwind hated, it was reunions. Especially reunions involved boring discussions with boring people who did nothing but reminisce about events that had happened twenty years ago involving people long dead. Well, maybe not dead. But anyone over the age of twenty-five, with the exception of his father, of course, was officially relegated into the ranks of Cain's 'boring' list.
There was a very distinct reason for the cut-off range that Cain had chosen. It just so happened that his older brother and sister, rescued, Cain was told, from some person called Messiah, were of that age, and had moved out into the world several years ago. Dack Highwind was an Airship technician, a vocation which had pleased his father to no end, and Kara Highwind, Dack's twin, worked at the Shinra office with Cain's mother, helping her with research. It seemed that both children had followed in the career of a parent, leaving Cain, the only true descendent in the Highwind line, with basically nothing to go into that didn't involve following one of them.
He hadn't really appreciated this gesture on their part, and had in fact felt a bit betrayed by the whole manner, as he had gotten along rather well with his older siblings before the Move Out. Hence, the start of classifying people into 'boring' and 'non-boring' categories--as far as Cain was concerned, the only people worth knowing were under 25.
With one exception. Red XIII had the honor of being removed from the 'boring' list. For some reason, the weird red-haired feline was the only intelligent being at the reunions he'd attended previously who ever paid the slightest bit of attention to him.
It always ended up the same way. Aeris, whom he had classified firmly in his 'very interesting' category, would spend all of her time talking with the adults, and wouldn't socialize with her younger brother or Cain. Shera Highwind, assuming she came at all, would tell him to go off and play with the neighborhood boys, and Devin Strife, for his part, was more trouble than he was worth. Cain had long ago ceased any attempt to try to open a dialogue with THAT little troublemaker.
There was that one time several years ago when that robot cat, Cait Sith, had shown up, and that had been quite interesting, until Mr. Wallace had jumped to his feet in anger and ordered the robot to get out. Now THAT had been interesting as well. Of course, the interest had disappeared after the robot had left and the hubbub had died down, and then it had been all boredom again. And here was another day that was going to be filled with the same.
Cain Highwind HATED reunions.
"We're coming in on Nibleheim, Admiral", the pilot of the Highwind III said calmly, and Cain mentally grimaced.
"Glad ta hear it, Parker," Cid Highwind commented from his seat to Cain's left. Cain felt rather than saw his father's eyes turn to look at him.
"Better save that file, Cain," Cid commented, the words more order than request. "Most of the power is gonna' be goin' into the engines for the landing, and chances are you'll lose whatever you're working on when the grid starts ta' get glitchy."
"Yes, Dad," Cain agreed regretfully, knowing that it was useless to argue for more time. Maybe he could convince Mayor Strife to let him hook his laptop up to a generator in their house. It had come to him less than six months ago, as a present for his fourteenth birthday. That, at least, would solve some of his boredom problem. Maybe this reunion wouldn't be so bad after all.
He obediently saved the flight simulation he had been working on and shut the machine down, then glanced out the forward viewport, hoping to get a good look at Nibleheim as they flew over, see if anything new or interesting had been added since his last visit.
The mountains below were zipping by far too fast for Cain to make out much, but then the airship began to slow as they neared the city, mainly in respect for the town's airspace. Cid and his airship had buzzed the quiet little town one too many times for its citizens' taste, and Mayor Strife had finally all but ordered Cid to cease his low altitude flybys.
"Should I give the Phoenix clearance to depart?" Parker asked calmly from his station.
"Damn right," Cid agreed gruffly. "I'll do it. Don't know why they insisted on escorting us, anyway. Those Dyson bastards may be willing to shoot up a supply train here and there, but there's no way there gonna' start something with one of MY babies."
Cid grabbed the nearby mic and punched the send button.
"Mitch? You there?"
"Right here, Admiral," came the crisp reply.
"Get yer ass outta' here, Mitch, and go find something that really needs an escort," Cid ordered gruffly. "And watch your tail out there. Dyson Corps been hittin' half the supply trains coming out of New Midgar recently, and I wouldn't put it past them bastards to try something like that again. I want you to join the Valiant on patrol duty in that area. If any of those Dyson bastards give you any lip, you have my god given permission to blow 'em straight to hell. And if that Shinra bureaucrat commanding the Valiant tries to do anything grotesquely stupid, then you can blow him straight to hell along with 'em. Got that, Captain?"
"Yessir!" Mitch agreed heartily. "And may I ask what time you will be heading back to New Midgar, Admiral?"
"Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Depends on how drunk I get."
"Got it, Admiral," Mitch answered, humor evident in his voice. Cain frowned in disapproval. The only person that paid less attention to him than Cid Highwind was a drunk Cid Highwind. "I'll see you when I see you."
Cain watched disinterestedly as a carbon copy of the original Highwind, which had been dubbed Phoenix after it had come off the Shinra assembly lines in New Midgar, banked back and forth once in a salute to its command ship and then streaked away into the distance. The ship was supposedly named because of its similarity to the original Highwind, which had been largely torn apart by its buffeting in the Lifestream during the events which the boring adults like to reminisce about so much. Cain thought the name was cliche and boring, at best. Now something like Enterprise... there was a novel name...
Nibleheim came into view, scattering Cain's thoughts as he eagerly took it in. He was quickly disappointed. It looked the same as it always did, small, suburban, and boring. Cain much preferred his family's lavish flat back in the sprawling metropolis of New Midgar to the relatively quaint rural town in which the Strife family lived. Cain had, more than once, asked his father why they couldn't have the reunion in New Midgar, where he would have all of his technology and friends to entertain him once the company got boring. His father had never once given him a straight answer, and the most he had ever gotten out of him was a noncommittal "Well, that's just the way we decided ta' do it."
They flyover of the town was accomplished in the space of a second, at an altitude high enough that the passage of the Highwind III's bulk did little more than cast a fleeting shadow over the sleepy little town below, a sharp contrast to the loud sonic booms which Cid had gleefully bestowed upon the people of the town in years long past. Things got more boring each year, it seemed. The boredom continued as Parker brought the ship in for a routine landing about a hundred meters outside the town, far enough from the concrete road leading in that they would not block any traffic. Then the engines of the Highwind III slowed and fell silent, and it was time to go.
Cain undid his seat belt and rose before his father could, and Cid grunted something that he supposed was approval of some sort. Moving somewhat slower, Cid Highwind unbuckled his own belt and rose to his feet, rubbing his back ruefully and grimacing.
"Old seats just ain't what they used to be for long trips," he commented gruffly to Parker, the pilot. Parker was 26, half Cid's current age, and so he had entered the ranks of Cain's 'boring' list about eight months ago. Thus, he no longer felt any need to pay any attention to the novice Lieutenant. "Cain, let's move it out."
Cain obediently fell into step behind his father, doing his best to keep up with the other's lanky strides, his precious lap- top clasped between his right arm and torso.
They descended the stairs and met the two Shinra Commandos who had been assigned to them for this outing, and Cid acknowledged them with little more than a curt nod. Cain knew there wasn't a thing on this planet that his father couldn't beat, but with the increasing tension between Shinra Incorporated and it's newest rival, Dyson Corporation, even a man as stubborn as Cid was not averse to having a little extra muscle along in case things got rough. Not that Dyson would dare attack the Admiral of the Shinra Airship Fleet. That would lead to full-fledged war!
A strong gust of wind hit him as he followed Cid and his bodyguards down the ramp and out of the ship, and he suddenly remembered another difference between Nibleheim and New Midgar. The air here smelled a good deal better. Well, that was one thing that could be said for country towns. It would all be well and good until all of the strange fungi and mold in the air started to set off his allergies, but with luck they wouldn't be here long enough for that to happen.
They headed for the main road and then followed it up to the gates of Nibleheim, stopping at the gate house where a bored looking garrison soldier was reading a newspaper. He glanced up at them as they walked past and tiredly waved them through.
Some security. Still, it's not like there's actually anything in this town worth stealing.
Cid actually seemed to be enjoying himself. There was a spring in his father's step that was normally absent during his administrative duties in New Midgar. Either he's looking forward to seeing his old friends, or he's looking forward to getting drunk. Maybe both.
It took them about five minutes to reach the Strife mansion, at which point Cid dismissed his bodyguards.
"Sir, shouldn't we...," one began, but Cid cut them off with a quick motion of his hand across his neck.
"You're talkin' to one of the guys who kicked Sephiroth's ass," Cid informed him confidently. "And the only thing more dangerous than me is all the OTHER people who kicked Sephiroth's ass. Being as this mansion is full of people who kicked Sephiroth's ass, I don't see that much extra benefit to you guys comin' inside. 'Kay?"
"If that's the way you want it, sir," the Commando replied calmly. "We'll wait out here for you to return."
"May be awhile," Cid commented. "If ya'll get bored, you're free to go check out the sights. Nibleheim has quite a night life, I hear." At this Cid broke into a raucous fit of laughter and motioned Cain to follow him inside, which he obediently did.
"Uncle Cid!" Aeris exclaimed as they walked into the house. Without warning, she ran up and threw her arms around him in a hug, which he returned somewhat awkwardly. "Glad you made it!"
"Damn, girl, if you're not careful you're gonna' throw my back out," Cid commented roughly, although he couldn't keep a trace of a smile from his face. "Is it my imagination, or have you gotten even prettier since I last saw ya'?"
Aeris let him go and shrugged. "You're too kind," she said with a gentle smile. Then she turned to Cain, who immediately blushed and looked down at the floor.
"And Cain! You've gotten bigger! How's school going?"
"It's goin'," Cain answered slowly, staring at the floor and idly twisting one of his feet back and forth. Cid was right. Aeris HAD gotten prettier since he had last seen her. She had wound her long blond hair into a pair of braids, one of which fell across a shoulder and down her breast, and had even managed to settle most of the rest of it into some semblance of order, although her hair was still notoriously spiky. She wore a light blue jacket the color of her eyes over a dark blue, form-fitting shirt with matched shorts, that stopped just on the border of what would be considered proper. In Cain's opinion, she was absolutely breathtaking.
There was one thing that Cain wished he was better at. He was a genius at math and mechanics, since it seemed to run in his family. But when it came to making conversation with pretty girls, most of his attempts were confined to simple sentences and barely suppressed blushes.
"Cain's already skipped up a grade since last year," Cid informed Aeris proudly. "And he's keepin' his mechanics teacher busy, from what I been hearin'. Puttin' the other kids in his class to shame."
The praise was nice, but Cain wished that Cid had come by the information that he was relating by actually talking to him instead of just checking his grades from time to time from the Highwind III's computer, while out on patrol.
"Well Cain, sounds like you'll be going to college a few years early then, doesn't it?" Aeris pointed out, winking at him. Cain blushed furiously and managed to stammer out something which he assumed was supposed to be an agreement of some sort.
"What's tha matter, Cain?" Cid asked as he broke into another fit of raucous laughter at his son's behavior. "Cat got your tongue?" Then he turned back to Aeris. "Anyways, when's dinner, darlin'? I'm starved for some good grub."
"It should be ready soon," Aeris answered. "Why don't you head on in to the dining room? I've still got to wait for everyone else to show up."
"Isn't it Devin's turn to do door duty?" Cid asked curiously. "I remember you doin' it last year, and the year before that, too. You lose a bet or somethin'?"
At this Aeris did blush a little, although she hid it well. "Devin--isn't here."
Those words were a relief to Cain. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was Devin Strife.
"He ain't?" Cid exclaimed. "What the hell is he doin', then?"
Aeris merely shrugged in response, a gesture that she seemed to have picked up from her father. "We don't know where he is. He'll show up eventually, I'm sure. Probably at the worst possible time."
"Prob'ly," Cid agreed gruffly. "Well, have fun darlin'. Me 'n Cain are gonna' go get some food." He gave her one last rough grin and then headed up the stairs, pulling Cain along behind him when he saw that the other was still staring stupidly at Aeris.
"Just wait a few years, Cain," Cid commented as they walked up the stairs. "If you want to get a girl like that, you're gonna' have to grow some frickin' backbone!" At that he slapped Cain roughly on the back and laughed, but Cain didn't think the remark was very funny.
"So how are things going in North Corel, Barret?" Tifa asked between mouthfuls of Laura's spiced chicken, which had proven to be the most successful food at any reunion thus far. Cloud made a mental note to himself to give her a bonus at the end of this month. "I haven't heard you say much about it since you got in."
"Not much to tell," Barret Wallace explained, as he finished off his own piece of chicken and reached for a corncob. "Damn, this is good food, Tifa. Anyways, it's just the same ol' thing, ya know. Production schedules, shipping orders, stuff like that. Marlene's been helpin' alot lately, too." He smiled proudly as he spoke about his daughter. "She's takin' to the business better than most of the foremen who've been with me for years. I can actually take some time off now and then and let her handle stuff."
"So you haven't had any problems?" Cid asked, reclining back at a decidedly dangerous angle in his chair. Red XIII, who crouched on his hind paws across the table from him, resting his forepaws on the table and contentedly finishing off his own portion of spiced chicken, glanced at Cid appraisingly. There was something more than simple curiosity in the pilot's tone. "Ya know, problems?"
Cloud didn't have much trouble guessing what Cid was referring too. Dyson Corporation. Ever since they'd come onto the energy production scene almost ten years back, they and the more established Shinra Corporation, under Reeve's leadership, had done everything but start a full-scale war. The less than friendly rivalry between the two big corps had recently begun spilling over into their related industries, such as North Corel's coal production, which had started to boom again after Shinra's Mako resources stopped dominating the market and Barret had returned to take the reins.
"There's been a few tussles here 'n there. Nothin' big, though," Barret answered after a second. He gave Cid a dark look. "And Dyson Corp ain't the only one that's been doin' the tusslin', if you get me."
Cid scowled in response. "Don't blame me for that. Dyson started this whole mess. Sides, I just manage the Shinra fleet. Don't have much to do with their shipping methods."
He turned his gaze to Cloud, who had remained cautiously silent throughout the entire exchange. "Them Dyson bastards been gettin' pretty bad, recently. They've hit three supply trains in the past week. I'd be out there flyin' patrol now, if I wasn't here. I got Mitch handlin' it, though. I don't trust that Valiant Captain to handle much of anything. Man got his job through politics, not flyin' skill.
"How's Mitch handling having his own command?" Cloud asked, hoping to deflect the subject of conversation to something less controversial.
"Taken to it like a fish ta water," Cid answered proudly. "All the trainin' I gave that boy paid off, I reckon. He's made some special modifications to the Phoenix that never even occurred ta me, and I designed the damn thing!"
"So you've got five airships in the air now?" Aeris put in from where she sat to Cloud's right, seeing that she was needed to help in defusing the situation. Cloud caught a grateful look from Tifa out of the corner of his eye, directed at both of them, and he knew that he hadn't been the only one worried that Cid and Barret might get into another fight. "That's not bad," Aeris continued warmly. "And you've got your fleet of support aircraft. That's quite a command."
"Yup," Cid agreed heartily. "Those Gelnikas couldn't outfly a turtle, but they can haul a helluva lot of cargo, which I guess makes up for the fact that they got the aerodynamics of a brick. The newer Kage class are a big improvement, in my opinion. They ain't got as much cargo space as the Gelnika type, and they ain't as fast as my babies, but they're a good mix of the two. Once Shinra gets enough of them built they're gonna' scrap the Gelnikas for good."
"I hear those new Dyson Airships are pretty impressive, too," Barret commented, tearing into another chicken leg with rather impressive fervor. Cloud mentally grimaced.
Dammit, Barret, can't you and Cid let your little rivalry rest for just a few hours?
Dyson Corporation had contributed a great deal of money to Barret's hometown of North Corel during the time when it had been getting back on its collective feet, far more than the paltry amount Shinra had given. As a result of this, Barret and his people had stronger ties to Dyson than they did to the Shinra, and therefore Cid's strong ties to Shinra tended to rub Barret the wrong way.
Of course, he had always despised the Shinra for ruining North Corel's coal industry and burning down the town in the first place, so his loyalties were not a big surprise. Now that Cid was a big shot at Shinra, the Admiral of their Air Fleet nonetheless, he and Barret had been growing increasingly hostile to each other, although many years of friendship before that were thus far keeping their rivalries at a low simmer. How much longer that would last-- that would remain to be seen.
"Hmmph," Cid replied, and suddenly roared with laughter. "Those--pigeon carriers?" He was having trouble speaking due to the fact that he was laughing so hard, and Cloud was momentarily worried that he was going to fall out of his chair. Barret, by comparison, did not seem at all amused. "Impressive? Those things. . . hah hah hah... ugliest sons of bitches in the sky, if you ask me... more like flying roaches..."
At this point he slammed his chair back down on all four legs and beat his fist on the table several times in mirth, causing the silverware that was not currently in use to clatter loudly. The tension in the room seemed to fade for everyone except Barret, who was still scowling at Cid darkly.
"I need a cig," he commented when he had caught enough breath to speak, still grinning like a madman. "If ya'll will excuse me..." He rose to his feet and began to head for the door, reaching to where a pack of cigarettes was perched atop his goggles, chuckling to himself. "Great dinner, Mayor Strife," he added as he turned back to look at them and opened the door. "Give my compliments to tha... oof!"
His grunt of surprise quickly changed to a decidedly evil swear word as he turned back to the door and glanced at who he had run into.
"Vincent, you sonuvabitch!" he sputtered, taking a step back from the door so that the man whom he had smacked into could enter the room. Then he broke into a wide grin. "What in the hell are you doin' here?"
"I had some free time," Vincent answered noncommittally, his words slightly muffled by the red scarf he wore over his face. "I figured I'd stop by. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
"Damn straight it's been awhile!" Cid exclaimed. "Six years! Where've you been all this time, Vincent?"
"Here and there," the other responded vaguely. Then he turned and nodded to the others in the room. "Good to see you, all."
"And you, Vincent," Cloud responded warmly, hiding his surprise at the other's arrival. The day Vincent becomes a regular here is the day Golden Saucer turns into a charity organization. "When did you get in?
"A few minutes ago," Vincent answered calmly. "Did I miss dinner?"
"We've still got plenty left, Vincent!" Tifa assured him, gesturing to the empty place to the right of Red. "Sit down and help yourself."
"Yeah, eat up," Cid ordered. "We gotta' catch up, later. But not now. I gotta' go have a smoke." Without another word, he walked out of the room, and Vincent did as he was bidden, pulling his chair out and taking his seat with slow, fluid grace that was a testament to his prowess in battle. There was something decidedly different about him, Cloud noticed. All he could see was his eyes and the top of his nose, but as Vincent pulled his scarf back...
"Holy shit," Barret spit out, then glanced in apprehension at Tifa, who was scowling at him angrily. "Sorry," he added hastily. If there was anything that was guaranteed to set Tifa off, it was her friends using bad language in front of one of her children, and Barret knew it. She tended to let an occasional dammit or two slide, but with Cid's earlier exclamation and now Barret's, she was growing very annoyed, very quickly.
"What the heck happened to your face, Vincent?" Barret continued, slower, as if choosing his words with care.
Now Cloud saw what had been bothering him as different. A quartet of livid, deep claw marks had been added to Vincent's once tranquil features, although they looked to be a year or two old.
What in the world could have done that to a man like Vincent?
He hardly noticed the fact that Vincent seemed to have aged barely five years in the time that the rest of them had aged twenty. They had long ago figured out that the ex-Turk didn't play by the same rules as the rest of them, and so the fact that he seemed to defy the normal aging process hadn't really bothered any of them.
But those marks--Vincent had come through both the battle with Sephiroth and their near deaths at the hands of Messiah without a scratch, and at times Cloud had assumed that the other was practically invincible. Even when an enemy did manage to strike him, it wasn't long before the wound disappeared altogether, with or without the aid of curative materia. The idea of a creature able to wound Vincent so grievously, and so permanently, was an idea that Cloud did not like to contemplate too closely.
Vincent calmly grabbed one of the last two remaining portions of chicken and took several slow and cautious bites before he answered, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that the rest of the table was silent as they waited for his answer.
"It's dead," he stated finally. "I'm not." And with that he went back to his chicken.
"Huh," Barret grunted. "That doesn't explain much. Of course, with you it never does."
Vincent merely shrugged in response. "Excellent food, Cloud and Tifa."
"Thank you," Tifa responded, covering her own curiosity about the scars as best she could. There was moment of awkward silence before Red finally spoke.
"Can we expect Devin to return anytime soon?" he asked, turning his good eye towards Cloud and Tifa. "If so, it would be prudent to save the last portion of chicken."
"I don't think he's going to show, Red," Tifa said, a bit irritably, though her ire was obviously for her absent son and not for Red. "You're welcome to it."
"Appreciated," Red commented, grabbing the chicken breast between his two massive paws and setting it down on his plate, where he bit into it with glistening white teeth that Cloud knew, from many years of fighting beside him, were certainly sharp enough to carve up the tender meat of the chicken with little trouble.
A sudden series of flashes from outside the window caught his eye, and he jumped to his feet, glancing in trepidation at the open window.
"Wonderful," he grumbled. Without another word, he stalked over to the window and pulled the shades shut.
"Trouble?" Barret asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
"Papparazzi," Cloud explained, uttering the name like a curse. "They're sure to have a field day with that little series of photos. Mayor Strife dines with wild animals!" Then he glanced apologetically at Red. "No offense, Red."
"None taken," the other responded calmly as he finished the chicken with a satisfied gulp. He turned to Cloud and bared his teeth in a grin that could not help but seem threatening, although it surely wasn't. "If you would like, I could walk into their office and give them a detailed interview explaining why I am not exactly considered a WILD animal..."
"No need," Cloud said hastily, forcing a smile onto his face. "The day I let public opinion start influencing who I have dine at my table, Aeris is going to disown me." With that, his smile turned genuine, and any awkwardness that would have resulted from the his earlier comment was easily averted.
Then he began to head back to his seat. "Now, if only Devin would show up..."
"Excuse me?" Vincent asked calmly, giving Cloud a sidelong glance as he walked by. "Were you expected Devin to return anytime soon?"
Cloud raised an eyebrow and caught Tifa's eyes. "Is there some reason we shouldn't?" he asked cautiously.
Vincent took a drink of wine before speaking again. "It seems so. As I came in, I saw a trail which he had left leading out of Nibleheim all together, on Chocobo, I believe. From the direction, I imagine he was heading for New Midgar." At the sudden anger that appeared simultaneously on both Cloud and Tifa's faces, and the look of utter shock which suddenly overtook Aeris, he blinked, once.
"I assumed that he had taken this trip with your permission. Was I wrong?"
"Very wrong," Cloud said with a scowl that would have
melted an ice flow.