This is derived from 'On the Way to a Smile: Case of Tifa. I always thought it would be fun to explore his awkward foray into the world of produce.

Cloud left the truck he rented from the budding city of Edge, the mid-morning air of Kalm cool and dripping with the scent of dew and nipping at the skin not covered by his black jacket or white shirt. It still felt strange to be wearing such casual clothing after wearing that threadbare turtleneck for so long, the shirt feeling like some etherial cloud draped on his chest. With the world still recovering from Meteorfall he supposed it would be a while before clothing production resumed, but he still kept a lookout for something more substantial to cover his body. Maybe something black, he preferred darker colors as it was.

The grey clouds from a recent weather front were beginning to break up and patches of turquoise peeked from behind them with golden rays of sunlight. The warrior enjoyed the sight, a morning he and his friends worked so very hard for just a few short months ago. Taking a deep breath of fresh morning air, he timidly walked towards the farmer's market situated in the middle of the little town.

Kalm was still filled with refugees from Midgar, though many were slowly making their way back towards the ruined city in a bid to restart their lives. Still others were suffering from a new illness that surfaced immediately after Meteorfall; the "Midgar Sickness" many had come to call it. The warrior had passed some of the sufferers, weeping black pus and suffering shooting pains and fever. He would look away, praying Tifa and Marlene would never contract the wasting disease. No one knew if it was contagious or even how it was transmitted yet, but if he could help it, he wouldn't take any chances with his new family. Barret would kill him in his sleep.

Cloud blinked as he approached the first stall, a rickety wooden structure with bins in the front. He had never in his life been one to go to a farmer's market, and when he had to go with his mother as a child he would all but ignore the produce in front of them and have his eyes wander towards other, more interesting things; maybe the lady selling fruit crepes or the man selling trinkets, or Tifa as she walked about visiting the stalls. At first with her mother and then by herself after the woman had died of an illness after a short time.

Now he came willingly on the behest of the girl next door that he now lived with, wondering why out of all the people on Gaia Tifa chose him to acquire provisions for the new Seventh Heaven. She could have chosen Barret or maybe hired some other person for this, but she chose him. Certainly he wanted to pull his weight for the new venture, and he liked traveling so long as he was the driver, but he was sure he was in above his head here. Spending four years in a vat of mako, spending a year in a mako poisoned daze and then suffering from it yet again in Mideel did a number on his brain; the fact that he never learned how to cook and never paid attention to what exactly went into his food didn't help matters at all.

He had a list, and the list had names on it. Names of vegetables and fruits he needed to buy for Tifa's bar. He didn't know what the hell most of them were. '...What does a 'carrot' look like?'

Cloud came up to the first stall, a middle aged farmer with a fluffy grey beard and a worn out straw hat greeting him. He looked down at the long list and tried, as casually as he could, to glance at the names in front of the colorful objects being offered in wooden boxes. 'It says 'carrots'. Is this right?' The spiky haired man slowly lowered his hand towards an orange stick, and looked it over with his eyes and fingers. It felt tough and dirty, and smelled of cool earth and a familiar sweetness; he assumed it was a root vegetable. "...This is a carrot?"

The farmer looked at him from under his straw hat. "Yeh, first crop o' the season, boy."

"Uh, I need a small crate."

The farmer grunted with a nod. "That'll be about five hundred gil, sonny."

Cloud frowned, looking at the vegetable still in his hand. "...five hundred for these?" he said in disbelief and doubt. They were pathetic looking things. This is what went into his food? He looked closer, turning it over in his hand. Tifa would have to clean these thoroughly before they went anywhere near a mouth.

"Not impressed...? Eh, alright, alright, three fifty!"

The warrior shook his head. "How about three hundred even?" He was going to have to talk to Tifa about these expensive vegetables.

The farmer held up his hands. "Fine, fine! Try'n not strain yourself, these crates are a good fifty pou-"

Cloud took a crate from the stall in his one hand as if he were balancing a pizza box. "Thanks." Ignoring the wide-eyed look of the farmer he went off to take the crate to the truck and start again on his quest for more vegetables.

'Mushrooms...aren't they poisonous? I don't think I've upset Tifa to the point she'd poison me.' He remembered seeing some brightly colored mushrooms in the forests near Nibelheim, his mother telling him they were no good for food. But here he was, walking towards the stall that had a large sign saying "mushrooms". Cloud's blue eyes wandered around the smelly stall, wondering why it smelled like dung. 'Maybe I don't want to know.' There were various types, some white or cream colored, others grey or brown or purple; they came in various shapes, or brains and buns and stalks with caps. A particular, curiously shaped mushroom held his attention as he looked down at the box holding them. 'It looks like a...' he glanced down at himself and then back up, a slight blush to his cheeks. 'Why does Tifa want these?' Cloud quickly buried his face in the list, hoping for a sign of what type of mushroom she wanted.

"Havin' trouble decidin'?"

Cloud looked up to the stall owner studying him with an amused look on her elderly face. "I...I need mushrooms for a bar and..."

The stall owner laughed. "Oh, don't know which to get?" She gripped one of the mushrooms the warrior had been studying moments ago, his blush deepening. "This one's popular as an aphrodisiac 'round these parts, but it's a good mushroom regardless of what fellas think about it!" She shook it in her firm grip, and Cloud grimaced.

"I'm not the cook, just the delivery boy!"

The stall owner lowered the offensive mushroom. "Oh. The owner didn't specify? Hm. Well, I still have a crate left of my button mushrooms. Establishments like the ones around here usually buy those." She said with a grin.

Cloud nodded, still uncomfortable. "I'll take it."

The stall owner gleefully took the offered gil and handed him a box, then placed a small bag on top; the warrior gave her a curious look. "A sample of those mushrooms you were eyein', son!"

"...Thanks." He quickly went back to the truck, his ears burning from blush. He never wanted to see mushrooms again after this. He continued on for several hours, wandering around and making acquaintances with both food and people; he never understood why people seemed to want to talk to him, not that he minded it. Cloud had to admit most of the things on the list weren't that strange when he took a good look at it, and some of the staples were easily picked out and the price haggled. Three fifty pound bags of rice, a large bag of sugar and one of salt, several containers of chilled meat. He still had one last vegetable to find however, the food slightly elusive.

'Lastly...Broccoli?' What the hell was broccoli, and what did it look like? Cloud looked about, ignoring the nagging in his head to examine eggplants(what the hell is an eggplant?) or radishes. After a while he spotted a sign with the word on it, and what looked like a drawing of a green tree outline behind it. The warrior quickly made his way to the stall, a young teen nodding a greeting towards him.

"Y'lookin' fer broccoli?"

Cloud nodded. "Yeah. You got a crate?"

"A few." He frowned. "Ain'tchu gonna look over the produce first afor buyin' it?"

The spiky haired man paused and looked down at some of the green things offered at the stall. He really just wanted to leave at this point and let Tifa sort out what he bought, mentally exhausted as he memorized all those blasted vegetables. "Yeah, I guess I will." He picked up what he hoped was broccoli, and looked it over. "Looks like a little tree..." he mumbled to himself. Cute.

The teen laughed. "They do, don't they?"

Cloud gave a shy grin. "I need a crate."

A money exchange and a few moments later Cloud had Tifa's broccoli under his arm, walking towards the truck. The back was filled with whatever bizarre things Tifa requested, things he had absolutely no idea he had eaten in the past; it was almost scary the amount of trust he put in others to feed him, Gaia knows he couldn't cook an egg to save his life. He stuffed it in the back and then took off his jacket and tossed it into the passenger seat of the truck, then took out his sunglasses and put them on. The sun was bright and warming up the formerly chilly town.

His stomach grumbled as he thought about Tifa's food, and he glanced about for a quick bite to eat to hold him over until he reached Seventh Heaven. He eyed a stall selling riceballs and he walked towards it, observing the different varieties. Kalm used fish and fish products often in their food, and riceballs were no exception. Cloud rubbed his chin as he looked over the choices offered. Salmon, roe, chicken and pork belly. "Hey. Can I get a salmon?" He held out a hand with a few bills in it.

"Yeah, here ya go." The food stall owner handed Cloud a paper wrapper holding a large ball of rice wrapped in seaweed. He looked at Cloud with an appraising eye. "You goin' to Edge, sonny?"

Cloud nodded after biting into his meal. "Mhm."

The middle aged man tapped his fingers on the counter. "Say, would you mind deliverin' a small package for me? My daughter is staying in Edge and her mother and I wanted to give her a care package, but there's no mail runs after all that happened," he waved towards Midgar, "and it's dangerous to make the trek alone. I can give ya money for it..."

Cloud swallowed his bite and shook his head. "How about a free lunch next time I'm in town?"

The stall owner beamed. "For this, several. I owe you for this, sir!"

"Sir...? My name is Cloud." He felt uncomfortable being called 'sir'. The middle aged man chuckled and they spoke while Cloud finished his lunch, then handed the package to him along with an address written down on paper. Cloud waved goodbye and disappeared back into the crowd of townspeople as he made his way back to the truck.

Finally back in the driver's seat he secured the package on the floor of the truck so as not to jostle it too much before putting on his seat belt and turning on the engine. Watching for pedestrians he carefully drove out beyond the walls of Kalm and began humming a little victory tune for surviving his first encounter with grocery shopping.