Author's Notes: I bring to you another story. I have to say, half of the muse for this came from just covering this time period in my history class. -Looks sheepish.- I know I should be working on Sweet Lullaby, but Microsoft Word really pissed me off last month when I lost a new chapter I'd written and then some. But this isn't the place to whine about it, so I'll introduce to you this fabulous little story I wrote, focusing on Aerith. For being set in such an early time period, I know I didn't follow the language very well, but whatever. And you might see a little anti-German sentiment possibly in this chapter and some to come (depending on how easily you get offended), but I really mean no offense if I do end up offending you. German propaganda back then was a lot worse than what I'm possibly going to do with it. But keep in mind it's only propaganda.
Warning: This is YURI. GIRLxGIRL. SHOUJO-AI. LESBIAN.... And possibly course language. Thank you.
War. It's a horrible, bloody, and dark thing that gives rise to the most gruesome side of humanity. Greed and hate are entirely powerful feelings that can utterly consume even the most innocent of people, and war is just the kind of incentive it needs to destroy the worth humanity has for a single soul.
A young girl in her late teens was sleeping in her bed. The silver moon was full, and its gentle beams cascaded down across the sleeping girl's delicate face from the large glass window. She tossed onto her side and her face drew into a frown. A green eye peeked open and she sighed, pulling the covers off her body as she made to get up. Her long white nightgown pooled around her as she stood and gazed out the glass window.
She couldn't sleep.
The girl had been having trouble sleeping for a while now; ever since the war started and her father had been drafted, the only thing she could think of was whether or not the new day would bring solemn soldiers with a note about her father's death to her doorstep—such a fear was only aggravated by the fact that he had failed to respond to the numerous letters she had sent him. Her mind was constantly pervaded by morbid thoughts that the Germans had brutally murdered her poor father as they had done to the Belgians, like the little pamphlets had said. Even at night where her mind and body tried to find respite from such stresses, she could only think of his gentle but gruff face, and the big smile he wore whenever she was around as if she was a treasure far greater than the riches of the Gold Rush or the jewels of Marie Antoinette.
A tear rolled softly down her pale face.
"Please come home, daddy," she whispered through a choked sob, gazing forlornly at the moon as if its silver beams could soothe away her woes.
It had happened. In her heart she knew it was so, but seeing the gentlemen in uniform hand her stepmother the letter while offering their condolences absolutely destroyed her.
Ifalna accepted the letter with trembling hands, and her whole frame was shaking as if she was suppressing a great emotional breakdown and by her will alone she was able to stand and take the letter. The girl came up behind her stepmother, putting a supportive hand on her shoulder before taking the letter and ripping it open herself. She read it aloud, though she already knew what it would say, yet her voice broke when she said that a body left on a battlefield had been recovered and was finally confirmed to be Gast Gainsborough.
When the soldiers left, Ifalna collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her worn face. The girl knelt down and embraced her, no longer able to suppress her own sobs.
"Oh, Aerith…" Ifalna whispered, clutching her stepdaughter. Her eyes had become vacant and empty though still wet, and Aerith would no longer see tears in her stepmother's eyes, nor any semblence of sanity ever again.
Aerith was able to move on. It was difficult for her, seeing as she had lost her mother, father, and even her stepmother in a sense who had succumbed to a mental breakdown, but she had the desire to continue living. Without her father's support or her stepmother's will to work, Aerith had decided it was time to marry and enter the workforce herself and start her own life. Her stepmother would be sent to live with some of her distant relatives who could give her the proper care she needed.
Aerith was a beautiful girl, with long flowing chestnut hair and the most piercing green eyes one could ever see—when she attended mass her priest often looked upon her with distaste and called it the sign of the devil, but it was a unique enough color to attract the attention of most of the young eligible bachelors in her area. In such a city like New York it was integral for Aerith to find her place before she was ripped apart by the rapid and callous city life, so how could she possibly mind the furtive glances cast her way by young men full of vitality and hope and money?
But one bright and sunny day, a friend of Aerith's by the name of Yuffie had stopped by her house. Aerith was prepared to greet her guest accordingly, but what she saw made her mouth drop.
"Y-Yuffie! You cut your hair!" Aerith gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She squinted slightly and leaned forward, gazing in disbelief at Yuffie's black bob. "And you-you—"
"I look like a boy," Yuffie answered simply, and she did. She was wearing rather plain clothing that Aerith recognized to belong to Yuffie's late father. However, she looked sharp—she even looked like a right little gentleman with the way she held herself.
"Why?" Aerith asked, aghast. There was something different in Yuffie's eyes, as if she had matured greatly to cope with the effects of the war.
"I'm joining the military." Her answer proved otherwise. "And don't try to convince me not to. I'm going to get those Germans for what they've done to my family!" Yuffie brought out a pamphlet Aerith immediately recognized to be written by the Head of the Committee of Public Information, George Creel. It was bright orange and called all patriots of America to join the military. Aerith felt her heart inexplicably pound with excitement at the patriotic call.
"I'm leaving today. I signed up a while ago, and I'm going to get trained up a bit and then I'm going to Europe to fight the Germans," Yuffie held a determined look on her now rather boyish face. "I lost my father, Aerith. I could never live with myself knowing that he has no sons who could ever defend his honor against them." Yuffie, who had been such a child, now held her radical emotions in check with a reserved front.
Aerith considered Yuffie's words. Millions of mothers and daughters and sisters lost fathers and brothers and sons not only in America, but in Germany as well. Families were torn apart across the world because someone, somewhere, failed to see eye to eye with someone else. If even one person could try to restore justice and faith between warring nations amongst the million cursing for death for reasons that may seem logical at first, but when sincerely considered seem so trivial and superficial, Aerith knew her purpose in life would be complete; the war to end all wars, like President Wilson had said, would be the most glorious achievement she could fathom. There would be no more useless pain or suffering for reasons nobody really fully understood or could quite grasp.
"I'll come with you," Aerith answered after a long, labored moment. Yuffie's eyes widened in surprise.
"But you didn't sign up for it," she protested, her mouth twisting in concern.
"If anything they'd be grateful for one extra troop." Aerith defended, and she motioned Yuffie inside. "I want you to cut my hair."
"What?" Yuffie questioned with disbelief as Aerith sat down.
"Do it." Aerith said firmly. She had to get this over with before she lost her nerves. "The scissors are in the bottom cupboard." Yuffie reluctantly retrieved the scissors.
"Are you sure? If they find out you're not a boy …" Yuffie paused, stroking Aerith's long chestnut-colored hair.
"Look who's talking," Aerith replied with a smirk, nodding to Yuffie's ebony bob and boyish attire. Yuffie sighed with resignation and began cutting off Aerith's hair. For the briefest moment, Aerith felt a stroke of despair when she saw a thick brown lock of hair fall before her eyes. Once a sign of her great beauty and pride, the chestnut strands began falling limply onto the wooden floor. She squirmed uneasily in her seat as she felt the scissors brush across the nape of her neck, and then across her face to trim her bangs so they weren't too long. It was done, and Aerith would have to suck it up and follow through with her decision.
"It's a little scruffy, but it'll do," Yuffie nodded to herself, observing Aerith. Aerith got up and hurried to the mirror in her bedroom to see.
"My head feels so light," Aerith remarked, combing her fingers through the messy locks. Yuffie giggled.
"But it's a good feeling, isn't it? I'll get a bandage so you can wrap your breasts and you go get some of your father's clothes." Yuffie paused at Aerith's miserable look. "I'm sorry, but you'll get to avenge him." Aerith didn't care for her words.
When Aerith was finished dressing, she was amazed. Her feminine appearance gave her the look of an attractive youth, but it was simply astounding to see herself transform into a boy.
"Just bring a little," Yuffie said and kicked an empty rucksack towards her. "We don't need much."
Aerith nodded as Yuffie went to wait outside in her father's black automobile. She began packing her possessions with a hint of reluctance; her fingers brushed across a family portrait in her room and she packed it with a twist of her mouth. She looked nostalgically around, realizing that this would probably be the last time she saw this house. She sat down on her bed, loving the feel of the lumpy mattress that she had vehemently claimed to hate beneath the quilts Ifalna had made her. Aerith touched the top quilt, a very pale yellow, and decided to pack it. However, it wouldn't fit and Aerith put it on her bed, feeling hot tears cloud her eyes. She picked her bag up and hurried from her room and into Ifalna's and her father's bedroom.
Ifalna was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting, with a desolate look on her face that easily told she was too absorbed in the torments of her mind to notice Aerith, who going through the bureau and packing select clothes from her father that could fit her. When she was finished, she knelt next to her stepmother and took her hand.
"I'm leaving now. I don't know when I'll see you again, but there's some leftover pork in the refrigerator. " Aerith knew she probably wouldn't touch the food. "And your cousin is coming to get you in two days, so take care of yourself until then." Aerith leaned forward and kissed Ifalna on the forehead. Ifalna's gaze slowly rose to Aerith, and confusion flashed briefly in her sad eyes. She continued knitting and lowered her gaze to follow her work.
"It's me, Aerith," she explained, lowering her head to try and meet Ifalna's gaze. She simply shook her head and focused on her work. "Don't you recognize me?" Aerith whispered with a frown.
"I'm sorry, little boy. Do I know you?" she whispered back in a broken voice, though her vacant eyes never really saw Aerith. She felt her eyes sting with tears.
"I'm not a boy! It's me, Aerith!" She exclaimed, grabbing Ifalna's face with her hands and forcing her gaze up. Aerith's eyes were wide and frantic. Ifalna shook her head once more and continued knitting. After a moment, she paused in her work.
"I'm waiting for my husband to return," Ifalna muttered, putting her knitting aside. "He went to Europe so he could fight the Germans. He should be back any day now," Ifalna said with an encouraging nod.
"Daddy's dead," Aerith said, astonished.
"You're such a wonderful young lad," Ifalna continued, pinching Aerith's cheek as if she were a friend's child whom she hadn't seen for a very long time. "Are you going to war? I'll bet you'll make your mother so proud!" Ifalna smiled in a slightly deranged way before picking up her knitting once more.
"I'm not a boy! I'm Aerith! Your daughter!" Aerith said, tears that she had been trying to suppress finally rolling down her thin face. Ifalna didn't seem to hear a word she said and began humming an old song to herself. Aerith gazed at Ifalna, her expression unreadable, before she stood up and walked slowly out of the house and into Yuffie's car. She cast one last pained glance at her home, and knew that she had left her childhood behind.
I'm seriously tempted to give Bill and Tom Kaulitz a cameo appearance in this. Is anyone digging that? Or have I just gone mad?
5 reviews and I shall gladly write the next chapter of Sweet Lullaby. :D Ergh...-cough- and this.