They found the remains of Aerith's garden on the third day after they returned to Hollow Bastion.
It was . . . well, a mess, unsurprisingly. Under the rule of dark, nothing had grown well - the hills outside the city, which had once been orchards and lush farmland, were now bare earth where they weren't glassy slag. Something had demolished the buildings on the north side of the courtyard in which she'd planted her garden. Scorched bricks, broken masonry and glass shards littered the bare ground. Only sere leaves and brambly stems told that anything had ever grown here. Leon glanced at Aerith, unsure what reaction to expect. She was strong - strong enough to bear up in exile for years without breaking or even losing the sweetness of her nature, stronger than almost anyone he knew - but this garden had been the heart of her, once upon a time.
Her face was drawn, but resolute. "Well," she said. "There's a lot of work to do, but it could be worse." She paced the margin of the garden, stepping over a pile of shattered clay shingles. "The important part is that it's ours again."
Leon felt a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth. "We'll help you. If you want." His gaze fell on Yuffie, perched on the dark frame of a blown-out window. "Right, Yuffie?"
Yuffie stuck out her tongue at him, then sprung down from the window. "Sure."
He knew she would, too. The garden had been Aerith's, that was sure, but it was a lynchpin for all three of them, now.