A/N: I had this in my head this morning and blasted it out at work! Don't tell my boss…In this tale, Cloud and Tifa are still very young.

Cloud didn't know how it happened. One minute he was walking home alone from school, and the next the prettiest girl on the Planet was walking beside him, her dark hair soft and shiny and swaying with each step.

"Hello," she greeted him, her voice as soft as her hair. She smiled at him, revealed small white teeth and something weird happened to his heart. It skipped or bounced or forgot to beat for a few seconds.

"H-hello," he answered, tightened his hands on the straps of his backpack. He could feel heat in his cheeks, knew it wasn't from the sun that was shining so brilliantly overhead.

"I'm Tifa," she announced with a nod. With a tilt of her head, she waited patiently for his response.

So he nodded too. "I know," he replied quietly and looked down at his feet.

Yeah, he knew her name. He could still remember asking his mom what her name was a long time ago, the first time he'd ever seen Tifa. There'd been a look in his mom's eyes when she'd answered, surprise and curiosity. He hadn't known it was because he never really talked much, and that when he did it was because of something important; he'd only been three years old at the time.

Tifa peered at him with a wrinkled brow, then shrugged and hopped over a slant of uneven pavement. "You're Cloud," she told him, and tugged on the buckle of her own backpack.

His eyes lifted from the sidewalk and he turned to stare at her in surprise. She knew his name?

He'd never talked to her before, didn't have the courage because she was always with her friends and her friends didn't like him much. The one time he had tried, he'd only managed to say her name before a boy had pushed him away. When Tifa had looked up in answer, the boy had waved as if it were him that had called for her, and they'd gone off together.

Cloud had watched as they'd disappeared and had experienced his very first real sense of fear. She hadn't seen him for he'd fallen behind a chair, but it had almost seemed like she had looked right through him. He never tried to talk to her after that; the thought that she would never see him scared him—a lot.

"You live next door to me," Tifa was continuing, oblivious to his amazement. She smiled at him again, and that weird bump in his chest happened again. "Can I walk home with you today?"

He managed to nod though his mind flooded with questions and he looked around nervously. Where were her friends? Why did she want to walk home with him? What if her friends saw them?

He couldn't ignore how his little heart tugged because she'd asked only to walk home with him that day, but it was ok.

Because any day with Tifa was so much better than the days he often did without.

Sometimes he wondered why she made him feel so weird. Maybe it was because when he looked at her, he thought he was supposed to belong to her—but that was even weirder. It was just…he was six. The only words he knew to describe what she made him feel were things like belong and whole and home.

"How come you never come play with us?" Tifa was asking him as they turned the corner to begin the last stretch home.

Cloud looked straight ahead, counted maybe five minutes before they reached her house. They'd already crossed the last street and the rest of the trip home was just a park path through a field. Five…he would try his best to stretch the time and decided to slow his steps. When she adjusted her pace to match his, he breathed a little easier. Maybe he'd get ten minutes..?

"I don't know," he replied to her question, then felt bad for lying because he did know. He wanted her to think he was brave so how could he tell her it was because he was afraid? Afraid she wouldn't like him. Afraid she wouldn't see him. But mostly afraid her friends would be mean to her, the way they were mean to him, if they thought Cloud was her friend.

He didn't like the way they made him feel, stupid and lacking, and he never wanted Tifa to feel that way. He looked around again, worried.

"You should come play," she invited, skipped. Her blue dress fluttered with her movements, her long hair flipping. "Especially when we race. I've seen you run and you're fast."

Cloud blinked again and came to a stop, his concern replaced with surprise. "You…you've seen me run?"

"Yeah huh." She paused too, and her small hands curled into fists. She pumped them at her sides. "Like this!" she explained as she mimicked him running.

He flushed while she jogged fiercely in place. She…she even knew how he liked to poke his tongue out a little, just a bit, into the corner of his mouth.

Shame washed over him as he watched her and he swallowed hard. He did that because it helped him focus but…she probably thought he was a freak. No one ran with their tongue sticking out.

"O-oh."

She suddenly stopped and locked her hands behind her back. Beneath her wavy bangs, she shot him a shy smile. "You look so cool when you're running. Someday, I'm gonna be cool," she shared, and her smile turned bravely into a grin. "And fast too!"

She thought he looked…cool?

"I know!" she exclaimed excitedly and clapped her hands. Her eyes sparkled, bright and clear. He could feel himself being creepy when he didn't blink, watched her and forgot to breathe. She was just so…pretty. And her eyes, they were like rubies, like the ones his mom wore in her ears.

"How about let's race, Cloud?" Tifa asked him. "All the way home!"

She wanted to race him? All the way home? He hesitated, torn between needing to please her and needing to just be with her a little longer.

But when she looked at him just so, that excited plea in her eyes, he only had one answer.

"O-ok," he agreed, thinking hard as another dilemma arose. His eyebrows drew together as he wondered what he should do.

Was he supposed to win so that she thought he was fast? Or was he was supposed to lose so he wouldn't hurt her feelings? His mom always told him that he had to figure out what was more important when he had too many choices.

He sighed, knowing the answer.

She wasn't going to think he was fast anymore—but at least she would smile when she won. He brightened at that.

Except she was too smart and she cut into his thoughts.

"You can't let me win, ok?" Tifa was telling him, almost as if she had read his mind. He looked at her curiously, wondering if he'd spoken out loud, but she just pointed to the sidewalk. "You have to run like you always do so I can see how fast I can run too. I might not beat you but I'm gonna try really hard. Can this be our starting line?"

He looked down, noted the split in the sidewalk blocks that she was indicating, and couldn't help but feel pleased that she'd asked him. Sometimes people just decided things for him because he didn't talk a lot, but Tifa didn't. She asked.

"Ok," he repeated. He looked down at her sneakers quickly to make sure the laces were tight, then glanced at his own. Satisfied, he lifted his chin and shyly returned her eager smile.

"Woohoo!" she squealed. She grabbed her backpack straps tight, tugged them across her chest so the pack wouldn't bump her as she ran, and he mirrored her actions. "Do you wanna count to three and then we'll go?"

He shook his head fiercely. He didn't want her to think he was cheating.

"Do you want me to?"

He almost nodded, because he did want her to—but then another idea struck him.

"Maybe we can count together?" he blurted before he lost his nerve.

Together. Something seemed to settle inside him when he thought of him and her and…together.

He reminded himself to ask his mom if maybe something was wrong with him because his heart kept doing that skipping thing with Tifa around. It was especially crazy this time, because she smiled and her eyes sparkled at him.

"That's a great idea! On the count of three."

He nodded and together, he and Tifa chanted:

"One…two…three!"

He took off as quickly as he could, could see Tifa right beside him as they started down the windy path, and was amazed by her speed. He knew he was fast and the fact that she was able to keep up with him was awesome. But he'd just gotten started.

It wasn't too long later that he moved ahead of her. Her legs were longer than his even though he was the tiniest bit taller but Cloud liked to run, ran all the time, and he knew just how hard and when he could push himself. Soon, he lost sight of her in the corner of his eye.

It wasn't until he was almost to the dip in the path that took them home did he realize Tifa was no longer running at all. He slowed down enough to turn back and look for her, then came to a skidding halt—both his feet and his little heart—to see that she had collapsed a few yards back, having fallen somehow.

"Tifa!" he called, and ran twice as fast to her side, sliding to his knees beside her. "Tifa!"

"I-I fell," she told him quietly. Her backpack was hanging strangely so he reached out and helped her wriggle free of it, set it down alongside them. Slowly, he helped her sit back until her legs were outstretched in front of her.

"Are you ok?" he asked anxiously, his heart pounding—and he knew it wasn't only because of their race. As his eyes caught sight of her scraped knees, bleeding just the tiniest bit, and it made his stomach hurt.

"I'm ok," she answered, dusting off her hands. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and for long seconds, they both peered at her grazed knees silently.

"What happened?" he asked. He wanted to hold her hand as it seemed to be shaking, the way his mom held his whenever he hurt himself—but he didn't know if he should.

"My backpack was too heavy," she replied, and black-cherry eyes slid to the purple offender.

Cloud nodded, understood what she was trying to say. Her hold had probably loosened on the straps of her pack and it had bounced, throwing her off balance. It had happened to him before.

"I guess I'm bleeding," she murmured softly, her voice slightly uneven.

He didn't like the feeling it gave him to hear her sound so scared, wanted to make her feel better but didn't know how, so furrowed his eyebrows and hit the backpack with a small, closed fist. "Stupid backpack," he muttered.

She seemed startled by his reaction, her big eyes growing wide. Embarrassed, he started to stammer an apology but then the sparkle returned to her gaze, glinting them like rubies again, and her lips turned up once more.

"Yeah, stupid backpack," she echoed, copied his movement and hit the pack. She glared at the thing.

He smiled a little at that, but looked back down at her knees and noticed that while they were both scraped, only one had been scratched hard enough to bleed. Would she be all right to walk home, he wondered.

"Let's get going," he heard her tell him, and she began to struggle to her feet.

He picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder as he came to stand beside her, watched worriedly as she finished rising. Was she really ok? He frowned heavily when her knees wobbled.

"It feels like its burning," she shared with him.

Burning? Something sparked in his memory and he nodded, thinking he might have a solution.

Dropping down to his hands and knees, her purple bag sliding off his shoulder to slouch beside him, Cloud leaned forward and blew gently at her scraped knees, hoping his cool breath might soothe her wound.

"Cl-Cloud?" Tifa asked, but he didn't answer, just blew again. Sometimes it hurt too much that it took more than one try. And just to make certain, he blew a third time, soft and slow, making sure the air was calm as it smoothed across her exposed skin.

When he was satisfied, he quickly pushed back to his feet, his blue eyes questioning. "Does that feel better now?" he asked hopefully, adjusted their bags on his shoulders.

She didn't answer for a long time, so long that the hurt in his stomach came back, and the color drained from his cheeks. He dropped his eyes from hers, ashamed and frustrated at himself for thinking he could fix her hurts.

But…then he felt small arms wrap around his torso, small hands trying to embrace him and his backpack and her pack too. He felt warm lips kiss his cheek, hard and sloppy, just like the hug she was giving to him.

"Thank you so much, Cloud," she told him, squeezing fast. "That fixed everything."

And he knew she was telling the truth when her eyes sparkled bright as diamonds and her smile beamed sharper than the sun and she skipped alongside him all the way home—her hurts forgotten.

"Cloud!"

Cloud blinked at the sound of his name. "Huh?"

Ruby eyes rolled. "You stopped walking and the kids are already at the park," Tifa informed him, gesturing toward Marlene and Denzel who were busy sailing high on the swings. "What on Gaia were you thinking about?"

He paused, struggling to find the right words. And wasn't that a surprise.

"Do you remember the first time we spoke?" he asked after awhile, matching her strides as they began walking again.

Dark eyebrows knitted together over a face that was more, so much more, than the "pretty" his six year old mind could've come up with. "The very first time? No," she answered after he'd nodded to her question.

He hesitated, blue eyes considering. He wasn't surprised Tifa didn't remember, nor was he angry. Maybe a little disappointed but how could he blame her? It had been a long time ago. They'd been but children. Even as smart as Marlene was, he doubted even she could recall the first time she'd met someone at the age of five, never mind being asked about it in eighteen years.

Besides, how ironic was it that he would be upset Tifa couldn't remember her past.

"It's nothing," he finally replied lamely, tamping down on the disappointment. He'd always known she hadn't given him more than a passing thought when they were kids. And he'd thought he'd come to accept it because it was now that mattered. Tifa loved him now, and that was what was important.

The woman in question gave him a sidelong glance, then shrugged her slender shoulders and continued walking in silence.

But the sting of doubt wouldn't be tamed, kept clamoring that he at least try to remind her until he blurted finally, "Wanna race?"

Her expression was filled with surprise when she looked at him, ruby eyes questioning. "Race? Right now?"

It was his turn to shrug. "What better time would there be?" he asked, then wanted to punt himself in the head at his slightly sharp tone. What in Ifrit's name was wrong with him, he thought as Tifa shot him an assessing look.

He schooled his expression into one of simple curiosity, kept his eyes focused on the ground in front of him.

"Ok," she agreed, and her voice sounded tentative.

Ashamed at himself—hadn't he just reasoned that he didn't blame her?—he lifted his gaze and opened his mouth to apologize—

To see his Tifa jogging furiously in place, pumping her arms with her tongue tucked delicately into the corner of her mouth. Her eyes gleamed mischievously like rich jewels.

"Minx," he told her, felt his lips curving. And the doubt he carried dissolved like mist.

"Catch me if you can," she challenged him in a sing-song voice as she darted away, her long, long legs carrying her swiftly across grassy knolls. He let himself simply enjoy watching her before giving chase.

And when she fell this time, it was because he tumbled her beside him, and when she kissed him this time, it was a reminder that she had always loved him too.

And that fixed everything.