20. Disaster at the Party

Money isn't as tight as it could be, since Mr. Snoops rented them the apartment fully furnished and both Aerith and Tifa are used to running households on a budget. Since arriving, everyone has stuck mostly to the basics, unconsciously unwilling to admit this is likely a permanent arrangement. Every however, connection they make, every root they put down, all of it increases their links with Traverse Town as their new home, but they each still have only two or three sets of clothes, including the ones they arrived in and the loans from Leon. None of these are exactly party material.

"How do I look?"

Zack tries not to focus too much on Tifa's chest, which is being shown to great effect in a frankly stunning cream dress. The only short skirt he's ever seen her in was her school uniform, and she's far beyond a schoolgirl now. This leaves him with relatively few places to look that won't make her think he's ignoring her or potentially earn him a slap for being a pervert. He concentrates so hard on her eyes it's like he's trying to pull them out of her head with only the power of his mind.

"You look nice," he says truthfully.

Something heavy lands on his back. "She looks freaking gorgeous!" Yuffie corrects, hoisting herself onto his back by hooking her arms around his neck and her legs either side of his waist, forcing him to grab under her knees so they don't both overbalance. "Man, Teef, Highwind sure has some funky connections."

"I know." Tifa turns to admire herself. "I knew he'd been around for years and knows practically everyone, but even the dressmaker? She's the biggest harridan I've ever had the misfortune to meet, but she was like putty in his hands."

"Methinks Captain Grumpy-Pants is a hit with the laaaadies," Yuffie croons, drawing out the vowel so it stops just short of sleazy. "Or at least those with low standards." She still hasn't forgiven him for Aerith's lecture, closely followed by Tifa's lecture, closely followed by a double-whammy lecture from Cloud and Zack about the evils of stealing. "And we don't have to pay for them?"

"We're borrowing them for a small fee. So that means no acrobatics tonight, and you have to be careful with any food you eat. If you stain these outfits that lady will have your guts for garters – literally."

"Meh, she'd have to catch me first."

"… Yuffie…" Zack wheezes. "Can't … breathe …"

"What? Oh, sorry Hero." She unhooks herself and hops down to amble into the girls' bedroom. It's the same size as the one upstairs, since all apartments in this building follow the same basic layout, but everyone fits in much better here. Mr. Snoops was also kind enough to provide an extra bed, and to procure a baby's cot from somewhere that left him looking harassed and talking in a hushed voice about his wife and 'the threat of babies'.

Zack wonders what Mrs. Snoops must be like, to reduce her husband to a quivering wreck at just the thought of her. Mr. Snoops talked about her once in something other than terrified tones, but what he said didn't leave Zack with a much better impression. Zack has always considered marriage to be about love and commitment, and while he's not stupid or naïve enough to believe that's always the case, the idea of marrying someone who terrifies you just plain confuses him. Marrying for politics, arranged marriages, even marrying for money and status – those he can understand, but Mr. Snoops didn't marry for any of those. It strikes Zack that maybe he married because he was too petrified not to.

"If you think Teef looks good, just wait until you see me," Yuffie promises, closing the door behind her.

Hollow Bastion parties were mostly formal affairs; old-fashioned and nothing like the things he's heard about in Traverse Town, where people organise street parties just to celebrate being alive. Zack reflects, not for the first, second, nor even third time, about how patchwork life was in Hollow Bastion. The magic distorting people's memories also made them blindly accepting of the impossible – and of their own hypocrisy. Their lives were a muddle of technology and old-fashioned superstition, with little rhyme or reason applied to what they would and wouldn't believe.

Zack remembers science lessons at school, learning about planets and the universe, and how the sun is really just a big ball of gas. He remembers dissecting leaves, reading books and eating up information even when pretending the pigeons screwing on next door's roof were more interesting. He also remembers how darkly suspicious people were of things beyond the protection of the wall. Children studied biology, maths and a few bits of philosophy, all of which was supposed to broaden their minds and develop their questioning skills. Then they toddled out of school into the same jobs their parents held, living and working and making families as if they'd never heard of any place but Hollow Bastion. Their curiosity died, their questions dried up and the blinkers that also kept them ignoring the castle went on.

It was as if they were sticking around like a herd of cattle awaiting the return of the farmer. Zack dimly remembers old plans he held of leaving to join the military, and how those plans simply dimmed the older he got, as the magic fastened its hold on his mind and tied him down in that mishmash of modern and antiquated living.

It wasn't even that people didn't understand what light bulbs were, or that there had to be more technology beyond their borders if the military were driving around in tanks full of explosive weapons; but somehow Hollow Bastioners prolonged their world view by just not thinking about anything that might disturb it. It was like anything outside their limited ideas of what was feasible simply ceased to exist. Once you left school science became a dirty word, the best way to get around had a saddle and its own heartbeat, and nobody thought it odd that Dr. Rui's surgery combined cutting-edge medicines with old wives' tales and superstition. Thinking back on how he could happily flip a switch without wondering what powered it, or where that power came from, makes him cringe. The castle unfailingly provided their electricity, their water, and everything else they needed for the simple price of their continued ignorance.

Everything comes back to the castle eventually, and the abandoned halls with their dark rooms and even darker secrets. What's going on in that place now? Zack isn't sure he wants to know.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Tifa's voice snaps him back to reality.

And this is reality, bizarre and garish but far more real than Hollow Bastion's identity crisis. Zack glances down at himself. "Uh, sure. The dressmaker didn't have anything for men."

Tifa purses her lips in dissatisfaction. "It's very … casual." It's not a good word; not the way she says it.

"It's clean," he offers.

"It's not a good thing if that's the best compliment you can think of."

"I'm comfortable in it. I don't like getting dressed up." He's not just saying that, either. Zack has gone too long thinking about ease of movement and whether he can run and jump without difficulty in whatever he wears. He's pure practicality with only a smidge of vanity – if he can fight monsters in it, it's fashionable, and there's very little that would convince him otherwise.

Which is why when Aerith walks out of the bedroom he feels like he's wearing an unwashed potato sack. "Wow."

"Wow." Even Tifa is impressed. "Red really suits you."

Aerith smoothes invisible creases from the close-fitting dress. "Really? I thought it was too bright. I usually prefer pastels."

"No, it's lovely. Those colours always make you look washed out. You should wear red more often."

Zack swallows the sudden lump in his throat. "You look incredible," he manages, wondering why his pulse is suddenly much louder in his ears and suppressing the little voice that answers him. This is Aerith, one of his best friends. He's seen her in dresses before. It's practically all she wears.

But nothing like this dress. Zack is as fashion-savvy as a sleeping tortoise, but the low-cut neckline and cinched waist uncoil something in his stomach that provokes a faint 'uh-oh' close to where his skull meets his abruptly ramrod spine.

Aerith smiles, but uncomfortably. "I feel like one of Kairi's crayons."

"Hm. Something's missing." Tifa examines her, and then steps up to yank the ends of the ever-present pink ribbon. It's threadbare from being worn all the time and rasps as it slides over itself, allowing Aerith's ponytail to unravel. Her hair falls in one huge hank, kinked into a wave where the ribbon was. Tifa fluffs up the flattened bit, using her fingers to comb out some of the knots and fan it around Aerith's shoulders. By the time she's done Aerith somehow looks completely different, even though the changes are actually only slight.

She pats the back of her head, as if looking for the missing ponytail. "Okay, now I feel completely like a dog's dinner."

"Don't be stupid. You look fabulous." Tifa spins her around. "Doesn't she, Zack?"

The pounding in Zack's ears is very insistent. "What?"

"She looks good, right?"

"Uh…" He swallows. "You both look great."

"See? I told you that you look fabulous." Tifa pats Aerith on the back, congratulating her for something Zack's not entirely sure of. "It's fun to dress up once in a while. Don't you feel better for wearing something different?"

Aerith hesitates, glancing at Zack with yet another expression he doesn't understand. He's beginning to feel adrift in all the oestrogen and special female codes. "Yes," she says, eventually but firmly.

Tifa nods. "When's Cloud getting back?"

"He should be home by now." Aerith frowns. "He and Kairi both."

"That's the cue for a knock at the door."

They wait expectantly.

Tifa sighs. "Or not."

The bedroom door crashes open, hits the wall and rebounds. They hear a distracted, "Fuck!" as it hits Yuffie in the knee and she hobbles into the room. "Not the dramatic entrance I was going for."

"I don't know," Tifa grins. "It was pretty dramatic. I thought ninjas had lightning-fast reflexes?"

"We do."

"And yet you were defeated by a door."

"You're asking for a shuriken to the face, Teef." Yuffie straightens to pirouette on one foot. Her skirt is long and flowing, and it fans out around her, then twists to embrace her tiny shape with its own momentum when she stops. It's actually more a gown than a dress – nothing like Zack has ever imagined her wearing.

Yuffie likes showing off a lot of skin, or at least never thinks about covering up more than is on view. He's used to seeing her long skinny legs and (considering how much food she eats) incongruously flat stomach. Her bare shoulders are as familiar to him as his own toes.

In contrast to this, Yuffie has chosen to cover up as much skin as she can, coupling her ensemble with gloves that reach past her elbows, a high neckline and a fan that dangles from a cord looped around her wrist. It's the fan that most makes him double-take. It's such an un-Yuffie-like object – it doesn't have a razor edge, can't be turned into (or used to launch) a deadly missile, couldn't stab through a wet piece of paper, and would break if she tried to hit anyone with it. It puts Zack in mind of a little kid playing at dressing up and grabbing everything it has seen adults wear, whether or not it's all appropriate.

The three girls make a full complement of hemlines – Tifa's stretches to mid-thigh, Aerith's is calf-length, while Yuffie's grazes the floor. Their colours, too, are individual; Aerith is vibrant in red, Yuffie strangely flamboyant in deep green, and Tifa's dark hair and eyes provide a neat contrast to the delicate cream of her dress. It's like being in a nest of some previously undiscovered breed of clucking, fussing, swishing animals. Zack's wearing-a-potato-sack feeling intensifies until he half wants to check his pecs to makes sure he hasn't turned into a girl himself.

"Bow to my feet, lesser mortals," Yuffie proclaims. She takes one look at Aerith's hips and Tifa's chest and deflates like a balloon at a hedgehog convention. "Aw fuck! Way to take the wind out of my sails, guys. Hey, is that a slit in your skirt, Ponytail?" She pretends to swoon. "Little Miss Conservative is showing leg above her knees – the apocalypse must be nigh!"

"Don't use that word," Aerith replies.

"Which word?"

"You know which one."

"Maybe I don't," Yuffie insists wickedly. "Or maybe I do. Why shouldn't I use it? Cid uses it all the time."

"Cid is also a crabby fusspot with a paunch and five o' clock shadow at nine in the morning," Tifa shoots back. "Do you want those as well?"

"Why not? It might be fun to scratch myself and spit and nobody could say anything about it." Yuffie smirks and strikes a pose that's pure Cid. Given her current appearance, it's more than a little disturbing. "'You fucking kids stay outta my stuff or I'll twist off your fingers and use 'em to unclog my fucking drains'." She snorts back a lugie and makes as if to spit it onto the floor. The mouthful muffles her cry as Aerith and Tifa both lunge at her.

"Don't you dare!"

"You spit that and you can forget going to any party!"

They grapple for a moment, a mass of pretty shoes, pretty dresses and un-pretty exclamations.

"Ewewewewewewew! You made me swallow it!" Yuffie shrieks.

"Serves you right." Tifa pushes hair from her eyes. It has come out of the bun she twisted it into, and she helps it on its way by impatiently tugging out the few grips keeping it in place. "Phooey. It took me ages to pin all this into place."

Yuffie shoves her. Tifa totters in her unfamiliar shoes, grabbing at Aerith for support. Aerith, caught unawares, overbalances with arms windmilling. They crash to the floor in a tangled heap, landing on top of Yuffie, who squeals. Amidst the yelps and thrashing limbs a single shoe flies through the air.

Of course, this is the perfect moment for the door to open. Cloud walks in just in time for the shoe to hit him. He falls like a marionette with all its strings cut. When he sits up again there's a large red mark in the middle of his forehead.

Kairi stares at him. She's still holding onto his hand and yet, unsteadier on her feet than Cloud, she's the one still upright. "Fall down," she states solemnly. "Cowed fall down." She mispronounces his name slightly, but she's still understandable. She looks at the rest of them and says again, "Cowed fall down," pointing like they can't see for themselves.

"She wanted to try walking up the stairs on her own, just holding my hands," Cloud says, blinking at the scene before him. "It's why we're a little late. What's going on?"

"It's that girl-on-girl action you two strapping men have been dreaming about since you started living with such gorgeous examples of feminine loveliness," Yuffie says from somewhere in the pile. Aerith and Tifa hastily extricate themselves and Yuffie sits up, her hair askew but her leeriest grin firmly in place. "For the record, Ponytail's boobs are just as squashy as Teef's, especially when they're all in your face trying to suffocate you."

Aerith's face flames until she's almost the same colour as her dress. Tifa blushes too, but accompanies it with a not-as-gentle-as-it-could-be kick to Yuffie's exposed calf. Yuffie kicks back and then flips to her feet in a rustle of skirts.

"I thought we were supposed to keep these things clean?" she says.

"We are. This was a fluke." Tifa pats herself down and inspects the pale fabric of her dress for dirt. Remarkably, there isn't any, something attributable to the thorough job Aerith and Zack have done of the housecleaning. Zack may be untidy, but when Aerith chases after you with a duster, you learn to just take the stupid duster.

Kairi releases Cloud's hand to pick up the shoe. She wobbles over to Zack, completely under her own power, and holds it up for him to take. "Shoe," she tells him in a now-don't-you-forget-this-because-it's-very-important tone of voice.

"She's walking!" Tifa exclaims. "She's walking on her own!"

"You haven't seen that before?" Yuffie asks.

"No." Tifa deflates.

Apparently unaware of this, Kairi points with one fat little hand. "Shoe."

"Uh, thank you, Kairi," says Zack.

"Shoe." Satisfied, she nods and walks back to Cloud, falling down only once and not letting it deter her from her goal. She laboriously straightens her legs, walking her hands backwards towards her own feet until she can wobble upright again, and then completes her journey.

Zack looks down at the shoe. It's a strappy red thing with a stubby heel and closed toes. There's only one person it can belong to.

"That's mine," Aerith confirms, coming over to retrieve it. Her walk is lop-sided as she lurches on her one remaining heel. "I'm useless on these things. I don't know why I can't just wear boots like usual."

"Because this is a shindig, and you freaking well dress up for a shindig." Yuffie holds up a palm at Tifa. "I said freaking, that's not cussing, so neener neener neener."

"I wasn't going to say that." Tifa stares at Yuffie. "I was going to ask whether that's snot smeared all across your cheek."

"What?" Yuffie touches both sides of her face. "Aw, man! Eeeeew! It's in my hair too! Grossgrossgrossgrossgrossgross…" She disappears into the bathroom at a surprisingly fast pace, considering the length of her dress.

"Shoe," Kairi punctuates from the doorway, although this time it means 'Cloud, get up, you're blocking the door and I want to go out again.' She tries to push past him towards freedom, but he picks her up as he gets to his feet. "Shoe!" Kairi wails. "Shoooooe!"

"Nope, you're not going out again until you're dressed for José's party."

She immediately brightens. "José!"

"Her clothes are laid out for her," says Aerith. "Tifa, can you check to make sure Yuffie didn't leave anything on the bedroom floor?" The last time Cloud gave Kairi a bath and went to fetch her nightclothes, he found Yuffie's underwear scattered about and blushed so hard he actually burst a blood vessel in one eye.

Tifa verifies that the way is clear and Cloud goes off to complete his duties. They're working on the idea that if they indulge Kairi's desire to walk, she'll be tired enough to fall asleep without fussing too much and sleep so deeply they can stay at the party with her. To this end, Kairi's day has been a non-stop round of outings and disallowed naps. She's a little grumpy, but so delighted at the thought of seeing José, who always gives tickles her with one of his own feathers to keep, that there haven't been too many temper-tantrums.

"Zack?"

Zack looks back at Aerith. "Yes?"

"My shoe?"

"Oh! Yes. Sure." He bends down.

"Actually, I just meant for you to hand it to me."

"This works too. Lift your foot up." He slides the sandal-thing onto Aerith's foot, but freezes when he pushes a little too hard and she braces one hand on his head to stop herself falling over again. It's ungainly, and she pulls out a few hairs, but it also means his face is pressed almost to her stomach.

A peculiar sensation uncoils in Zack's own belly, like butterflies and that borderline awareness when you're sick that you may be about to throw up. He's entirely too aware of her soap-and-flower scent, and the sound of her breathing just above his head – utterly, jarringly, worryingly aware.

"Are you all right, Zack?" Tifa asks. "What's taking so long?"

"Aerith's making me bald."

"Whoops." Aerith releases his scalp and he stands, rubbing at it to cover his alarm.

He looks at Aerith, recognises the face he's looked at for most of his life. He knows the feel of those hands smacking the back of his head and what her voice sounds like when she's thoroughly ticked off. He's seen her cry, seen her at her lowest ebb, lied to her about the taste of her tea and had unfortunate snowball fights that left them both smelling of unseen dog faeces. He has argued with her, teased her, been exasperated with her, and even thought he hated her for being so bossy and sucking the fun out of everything when they were kids. She's his best friend along with Cloud. He's lived with her for years, for goodness' sake. There's no mystery to her, she's just … Aerith.

So what's with the sudden butterflies?

"Are you okay?" she asks, concerned.

"I'm fine. I … guess I'm just going to miss José more than I thought."

Aerith frowns – and well she might, since he knows José mostly in a peripheral way – but nods. "He's certainly made being in Traverse Town a lot easier. The transition between Hollow Bastion and here would've been much different if we hadn't had him to talk to. Cid, Merlin and Leon, too." She nibbles her lower lip. "I hope they don't want to leave as well."

"Fat chance," Tifa snorts. "Cid's like a turnip – all root. It'd take being put into another meteor shower and forcibly thrown out of this place to move him again. Intolerant grump."

Neither Aerith nor Zack are fooled by her words. Tifa has grown closer to Cid than any of them, and he seems to care a lot for her in return – albeit in his own rude, bad-tempered way. He'd sooner chew the tail off a skunk than admit it, but he does have elements of 'gruff pushover' in him after all where Tifa is concerned. Zack gets the feeling she's unconsciously using him as a father-figure substitute, and despite his faults Cid gets Zack's vote as a better candidate than Mr. Lockheart. He's not sure what Cid gets out of the relationship, but so far it's working, and Zack can't see any reason to rock the boat.

"You can't predict other people," Aerith points out. "We've not been here long enough to know anyone enough to guess how they'd react in any given situation."

"Cid would swear at it," Tifa says firmly. "Whatever else he might do, he'd cuss it for all he's worth."

Neither Zack nor Aerith can argue with this.

"It feels like we've been here far longer than we actually have," Aerith muses. "Doesn't it feel like that to you? It's almost like Hollow Bastion and everyone there was just …" She waves her hands. "It's echoey, like it was all a dream. José is a giant parrot who walks about like a person and smokes a cigar. When did that stop being impossible? When did it stop even being incredible? When did it become normal to see a dragon and say good morning to it instead of running away? Don't you guys ever wake up and wonder which part of your life is the dream part? Because sometimes I find it hard to tell the difference."

"Maybe that's the spell over Hollow Bastion talking," Tifa suggests. "It might be worth talking to Merlin about it – that magic messed with our minds and with the memories of everyone old enough to know what the town was like before it was cast. We can't be too careful where that stuff's concerned."

"It'd be useful if Merlin was going tonight," says Zack, "but he said he doesn't know José as more than a face in the street."

"And he hates parties even more than Cid does," Tifa adds.

Yuffie marches out of the bathroom. Her hair is pinned into as elaborate a style as she can manage, which isn't very elaborate at all. The short locks stick up at odd angles, coaxed into grips and protesting loudly at such ham-fisted treatment.

"I'm all de-snotted and ready for action!"

Tifa nods towards the closed bedroom door. "We're just waiting for Cloud and Kairi."

"Cool. I'll fetch Grumpy Guts." Yuffie wrenches open the front door and beetles upstairs, fists bunched in the front of her skirt to keep herself from tripping over and knocking out all her teeth.

Cloud and Kairi are ready when she comes back, grinning in a slightly manic way.

"He's not there?" Aerith says gently.

"He's a bas-… man," Yuffie replies, eyeing Kairi. "You men all need a kick in the crotch to remind you to be where you say you'll be when you say you'll be there. Hero, are you really going to take that big-ass sword with you to a freaking party? You and that thing have an unnatural connection. Do you hump it in private or something?"

Zack, long used to Yuffie's babbling, brushes it aside.

Finally they all make their way out of the building and set off for the location José gave them, alternately jabbering and trip-trapping across the cobbles and down the darkening streets. Evening comes early in Traverse Town, regardless of season, casting everything into eerie twilight that looks like it needs a fog to soften its hard edges. It's the same in the morning – pre-dawn grey light clings to the world, allowing the sun through with resentful slowness.

They hear before they see; a mixture of whoops and music closely followed by clapping hands. It feels like José has invited the whole of Traverse Town. Things are in full swing when Zack and his little posse arrive. The street is lined with trestle tables covered in food and bowls of clear orange liquid. Bunting has been hung from the streetlights and colourful streamers sway in the breeze made by breathlessly dancing bodies. Near the fountain a small area has been cleared and some residents have brought out instruments to replace the recorded music. Zack recognises a few of them, but others are from worlds where 'music' has a very loose interpretation and alternately resemble plumbing and small mangled animals. At least one sounds like it too, but the overall effect is festive. Clearly José doesn't want anyone to mourn him going.

"Wow," Tifa breathes.

Cloud eyes a large red and yellow paper horse, dangling from a streetlamp, which someone is trying to hit with a piece of wood while blindfolded. "Is this what parties are supposed to look like? Hollow Bastion was sure missing out."

"Pretty!" Kairi cries, as the horse explodes in a shower of flowers and sweets. "José! José!"

"Boa vinda, little sugar lump." José disentangles himself from a crowd of people and ambles over. He's still wearing his straw boater, but has swapped his regular jacket for a red one that clashes horribly with his feathers. "Ah, Miss Aerith! We are a matching pair tonight!"

Aerith smiles. "Hello, José."

"You all look wonderful," he beams at them, until his eye falls on Cloud and Zack. "We are aiming for casual chic this evening, my friends?"

"We, uh, didn't know what to wear," Zack says, half apologetic. "We're not used to parties like this."

"Then allow me to educate you." José grabs his hand and spirits him away into the thick of the festivities. "Come, come, everyone! The night is young and I wish to enjoy my time with you all."

The night is still young, but Aerith feels about a hundred years old. She finds a seat on the fringe of the crowd and sinks gratefully into it. The others are all still laughing and dancing – mostly badly, since there aren't any steps to speak of and they're just moving as the bizarre music takes them. She spots one or two glints of martial arts in Tifa's movements, but they're stylish when masked in cream fabric and a carefree smile. Everyone looks so alive and free – the first time they've all been so honestly happy since they got to Traverse Town. It makes Aerith happy too, even though these stupid shoes are killing her.

"First time in heels?"

She turns to a woman who has also sought refuge from the crush of bodies, though her reason is more obvious. Her belly is swollen with pregnancy.

"You're new in town, right?" the woman asks with a friendly smile.

"Relatively," Aerith replies.

"I think I've seen you around. You have a daughter, right?"

Aerith has given up sputtering when people say this. Despite the different eye and hair colour, and the fact their faces look nothing alike, most of those who spot her with Kairi assume they're related. Given that, if Aerith ever does have children, she'd want them to be like Kairi, she's not offended. "She's not actually my daughter; we just ended up here together and kind of adopted each other."

"We?"

Aerith nods at her friends. Cloud is holding Kairi's hand in one of his and play-acting a tango. He's so much better with her than anyone suspected, though with his natural gentleness maybe they should've. Kairi is happy to boss him about and he's happy to take it. Beside them, Yuffie gyrates like her limbs have been snapped off and sewn back on too loosely. She wiggles her fingers in Kairi's face. Kairi tips back her head in a laugh that's swallowed by the noise of the crowd.

"She's adorable. Is that her father with her?"

"No, we're none of us related."

The woman nods, but there's a sadness to it, and the way her hand slides over her abdomen causes Aerith to wonder whether her own family are with her. So many people in Traverse Town are here because they've lost their worlds, Aerith reminds herself, and they all have stories of people they've lost.

"I'm Aerith."

"Chicha. I recognise your name. People talk about your group a lot. It's unusual for so many to survive this far. Usually there are only one or two survivors when a world dies. I've heard some pretty strange rumours about how so many of you lived to tell the tale. It's nice to find out you're pretty normal – no second heads or antennae or anything." Her smile is tired but genuine. Aerith finds herself liking this woman. Chicha reminds her of Elmyra. They have the same kind of innate motherliness and wry humour. "So what world are you from?"

"Does every world have a name?"

"Mine doesn't. Didn't." Chicha sighs. "Kuzco calls it Kingdom in the Sun, but I've never liked that name. I remember rainy days so fierce they nearly washed my whole village away down the mountain, but he has a pretty narrow point of view. To him, his kingdom was the whole world. I guess that's what comes from being a selfish teenager, though I think living with me here is wearing down his rough edges now."

"Kuzco?"

"In the flesh," says a nasal voice by Aerith's shoulder.

Aerith turns and jolts at the sight of a creature with four shaggy legs and a ridiculously shaped neck and head. Its face is only inches from her own. The startling intelligence in its broad eyes changes to irritation, judging by the way its tail flicks from side to side. The closest she's ever seen to something like it before is a nameless monster that once tried to scale Hollow Bastion's outer wall despite its cloven hooves. Angeal took care of that one, but this one seems much more harmless.

"Who's the chick, Chicha?"

"This is Aerith, one of the new bunch."

"Really?" The creature squints at her. "She doesn't look abnormal. Hey, baby, how'd you like to dance with a studly llama-emperor?"

"Llama-emperor?" Aerith repeats, envisioning an entire empire of these creatures. She's gotten used to animals who walk upright like humans, but this is a new one and she's still processing being talked to be the lovechild of a donkey and a rag mat.

"Kuzco, we've talked about this," Chicha scolds. "You're not an emperor anymore. You haven't been for a long time."

"But I am still a llama," he pouts. "What's up with that, anyway? How come you haven't found me a cure yet?"

"Because I've been a little busy being heavily pregnant."

He snorts. "Like that's an excuse."

"You could always ask Merlin yourself."

"He insulted me."

"You ate one of his books. One of his expensive magic books."

"Hello – I'm a llama! It's what I do. I can't help it. It's part of the whole total-omnivore gig."

"Excuse me," Aerith interrupts. Their banter sounds like it's been enacted many times before. "You know Merlin?"

"Who doesn't know that old coot?" the llama grunts. "You do realise most of Traverse Town's refugee population stick around because they hope a powerful wizard like him will be able to get them home someday, right? Thicky McThick and the Thickoes don't get that their worlds don't exist anymore to get home to."

Chicha winces. "Thank you, Kuzco, for once again being the height of sensitivity."

"What?" He glances between the two of them. "What? At least lifting my curse is possible. I'm not living with false hope."

"Me neither, but remember when we talked about being sensitive to other people's feelings?"

"We have a lot of conversations where you tell me I'm an ignorant jerk with the compassion of a bent horseshoe. Refresh my memory about which one you mean. And while you're doing that, remember to mention how I'm living with you to help lighten the load when you finally drop the sprog."

"It's not due for a while. I could remember to mention how you're mooching off me until then."

"And I could remember to mention how opposable thumbs would be really handy for when it does finally happen."

Aerith's head whirls. "I'm thirsty. I think I need something to drink." She gets up, intending to fetch one from one of the bowls of orange liquid. "Would either of you like something?"

"Actually, that'd be lovely," Chicha replies.

"Not me." Kuzco raises a front hoof in a very human gesture. "Apparently punch makes a llama's digestive system do a great impression of a whirlwind. I had a bucket of water before. Plus, can't hold a glass." He shoots a look at Chicha. "No thumbs."

Cloud watches Aerith detach herself from her strange new friends. He recognises the woman from when he has travelling around town making deliveries, and the creature with her can often be seen pacing around, muttering to itself, eating weeds and then spitting them out again. They're the only survivors from their world and Cloud feels sorry for the woman, faced with raising a child alone in a strange land. He should've known Aerith would draw her to them, or be drawn to them.

"This party is pretty busy," Zack comments. They lost sight of José after he showed them around and introduced them to people whose names and faces they instantly forgot. As host, José's duties extend beyond just them. He's a popular guy, judging by all those who've come to see him off. Or maybe this party is just an excuse to enjoy themselves.

"Nothing like back home." Cloud is vaguely surprised that he can say this without the usual stab of homesickness. Is Hollow Bastion fading from his heart so quickly?

"I keep thinking I'm going to accidentally stab somebody," Zack goes on, gesturing at the Buster Sword on his back. "Too many people too close together."

"It pays to always have a weapon to hand."

They both turn to see Leon, who is impervious to the dancing around him. It's like he's been transplanted into the setting without his consent and, inasmuch as he can look uncomfortable, he does. H e holds his gunblade like it can protect him from the swelling happiness.

"Squall!" Yuffie launches herself at him, clasping her arms around his neck. "Wow, you actually turned up. My flabber is gasted."

"It's Leon," he snaps, but the words die on his lips when he looks over the top of her head.

Tifa, abandoned by Yuffie, slips between people to follow her and join them. Her pale dress is conspicuous against the backdrop of other colourful partygoers. Her hair brushes her shoulders, looking tousled but not scruffy. Tifa has always had an ability to look great no matter what she wears, Cloud thinks.

Leon's eyes widen. He looks openly stunned. "Rin-"

A scream pierces the air.

The dancing falters. So does the music. The scream comes again, louder this time because of the sudden quiet. It's thin, terrified, and comes from within the crowd.

A woman points to the top of the fountain. "Heartless!" she screams.

A stampede would be more organised than the party crowd when it moves. The sight of those first disc-like eyes and twitching feelers sparks a hundred terrible memories – all those who have been attacked by Heartless, lost loved ones to them, and eventually seen their worlds die because of them. Just talking about them alternately stirs hatred and glacial fear. Those who have always lived in Traverse Town have heard enough about Heartless to also panic. The effect of their sudden appearance is both electric and devastating.

Within seconds the party has broken up and people are running in all directions, unmindful of whatever is in their way. Tables are turned over, decorations tumble, and more than one body stumbles, to be caught under the rush of feet. The screaming is almost an afterthought.

"Hey!" Cloud yelps, abruptly separated from his friends. He's swept along and can't even see Zack, whom he was nearest to. Instinctively he covers Kairi's head and works to keep her protected from sharp elbows. In their terror nobody is careful of a single child.

Cloud hears a roar and sees Leon scaling the side of the fountain, using the stone carvings as footholds. He swings his gunblade up and lays into the first Heartless with a ferocity that borders on crazed.

"Cloud! Kairi!" Tifa works her way through the crowd towards them, knocked sideways several times but somehow keeping her feet. She ploughs into Cloud and propels him to the edge, where the rushing bodies are fewer.

They each press their backs against the wall, knowing they should also be running but scanning for their friends. Tifa is uncomfortably close. Cloud can feel her breathing. Some of her hair gets into his mouth.

"Did you see where Zack went?" he asks. Kairi whimpers in his arms and he shushes her, stroking her head and pressing her against his chest and the comforting thrum of his heartbeat. It's what his mother used to do for him when he was small, and it's worked before when Kairi is upset at bedtime. She quietens a little, but the commotion is obviously terrifying her.

Or maybe it's the sight of the Heartless that has her shivering and burying her face in Cloud's shirt.

"I lost him and Yuffie when everyone went wild," Tifa shouts above the noise.

Leon roars again. They look up to see him knocked from his perch by the sheer number of Heartless pouring out of the empty air. A green smudge bounces up the fountain, swinging a folding chair. Yuffie cracks a bunch of Heartless with it. The force of the blow makes them to explode. She twists around, opening the chair and slamming it shut like a mousetrap around those attacking Leon. Unencumbered, he grabs a stone horse's head and swings himself around to land beside her, and they swat and slice like a single creature with four legs and two heads.

It's not enough, though.

Heartless decant into the fountain's base like water. They're so slow, but they move with conviction as they clamber over the side and swing their antennae to seek out prey. People injured by the frantic crowd try to crawl away on all fours or lay on the floor, moaning. The Heartless aim for these first.

Something black and silver streaks across the cobbles. As the first wave turn to dust, the thing has already moved on to the second, faster than the naked eye can follow. It takes a moment and a brief pause for Cloud to realise it's Zack. Cloud's mouth falls open. He has never seen his friend move like that before.

Zack also looks shocked when he finally halts, holding the Buster Sword ready and glancing around at the settling piles of black dust. His mouth moves in the beginning of question: "What the-"

One of the fallen people disappears, a stray Heartless's hand buried up to its elbows in his chest. It shudders and splits, another Heartless peeling out of its spine. They bump feelers for a moment, establishing contact, or maybe communicating through touch since they have no mouths. Then they turn on Zack.

Lunging forward, Zack makes a great diagonal sweep that cleaves through several Heartless, including the two moving towards him. Others are also coming towards him, but most chase the crowd – easier prey to swell their numbers so they can take on someone who actually fights back.

Even as fear for Zack's safety stabs into him Cloud realises that he, Kairi and Tifa have to move. It would be too dangerous to expose Kairi to close-quarters fighting. She's small and vulnerable, and it's up to them to keep her safe. Aerith would never forgive him if he put her ahead of Kairi, but Cloud's gaze still rakes over the scene, searching for the only member of their group he hasn't yet seen.

He spots Aerith when the animal in front of her yelps with a human voice. Aerith darts forward, away from the pregnant woman she's been shielding, and whaps the attacking Heartless away from the llama using an empty punch bowl. The glass shatters, shards dulled by black dust. Having lost her only weapon, Aerith returns to supporting the woman. Their escape is hindered by the woman's difficult breathing and the way she keeps clutching at her belly. Cloud is instantly transported back to the day in the marketplace when Anemone Caspian went into labour.

He's torn. Part of him wants to shove Kairi into Tifa's arms and go to Aerith, but another part of him knows this would be a stupid idea. Yet another part of him wants to go to Zack and Yuffie, even though they can obviously take care of themselves.

Kairi clings desperately to his neck, whimpering. He tries to balance impulse and reason in his head and comes out with a hodgepodge of both, equally laced with self-reproach like a spiked bowl of punch. "Tifa, Aerith needs help."

Tifa follows the line of his pointing finger. "But…" she starts until she sees his eyes. He's begging her and she can't refuse him. "Can you get Kairi away on your own?"

Cloud nods and Tifa takes off, vaulting over the debris without a thought of her short skirt. Halfway there she grinds her shoes against a particularly large cobblestone, snapping the heels off so she can go faster. Her dark hair streams behind her, and it's this that Cloud keeps seeing as he holds tight to Kairi and runs in the opposite direction to his friends.

Blood pounding and sword feverish in his hands, Zack cuts his way through the Heartless trying to escape the fountain. Above him, Leon and Yuffie dance over the stone carvings. Zack has never thought of furniture as a good weapon before, but Yuffie uses her chair to devastating effect. Leon's expression shifts between grim and bared-teeth fury, the most concrete emotion Zack has ever seen on him. Leon uses his gunblade like an extension of his arm, but his movements are still solid and human.

Zack can feel his connection with the Buster Sword like a sparkling explosion. It's the same bond he always feels, nestling in the back of his mind and flaring up whenever he uses the sword, but so much more intense. The heat of battle has set all his nerve endings alight, as though holding each one in a candle flame until they convulse. His feet move him where he needs to be sooner than his mind can register where that is. His grip on the hilt crackles with energy. He moves faster, leaps higher, slashes more devastatingly than should be possible. He's alive with the power of the sword. Heartless fall all around him, and still he keeps going, seeking, slashing, killing. This is what the sword was made for, to kill and kill and kill –

No it isn't, it's for protecting, not mindless destruction. He swore to Angeal he'd use his training to protect people. He's a hero, not an assassin.

But it's so good at this; surely this is what it was forged for, before nobleness and all that crap got in the way –

No, no, that's not right, can't be right, mustn't be right ...

Angeal!

Zack's thoughts are a scrambled mess of combat, Angeal's code, and his ties with the sword, until it feels like he's the weapon, and could cleave apart his enemies with his bare hands if he just reached out to touch them. Battle-awareness slams into him from all sides, assaulting his senses until he almost suffers white-out. For a second he imagines Angeal beside him, but when he looks there's nothing there. He's confused, but his body keeps moving with unerring accuracy.

"Aerith!"

Who's that? Who just shouted?

A pale figure, blurring in his peripheral vision – female in a white dress. Who was wearing the white dress? A darker figure leaps down from above; man-shaped, not Heartless. Zack recognises them both, but proper awareness slips away from him. They're not enemies and his brain stops discerning after that.

Zack blinks, aware he needs to refocus his mind. For a moment the unthinkable happens and he falters, swaying under the force of the Buster Sword's magic. His senses are blitzed. He's bewildered, unused to the sudden strength of the link. His heart jackhammers. The pause almost costs him his life when a Heartless, as if it can hear the thundering, comes up behind him and fastens onto his back.

"Hyaaaaaaa! Death from above!" Yuffie lands on top of it, squashing it and popping its head with her heels. Her long skirt has been shredded and the trailing bits torn off – probably by her, the tears are too even to be accidental. She's wearing a pair of shorts underneath.

Bizarrely, given the seriousness of the situation, Zack thinks, How Yuffie.

"Yo, Hero, quit spacing out or you're dead."

"I…" He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. His hands tremble with the need to fight, but he realises with a jolt that there are only a handful of Heartless left. Did he do that? His throat is clogged and Yuffie's face blackened with a film of dust.

She twirls her folding chair like a bo-staff. "I'm so good it's scary," she crows, eyeing the remaining Heartless. "Ladies first." She takes several steps back, and then launches herself at them in a great running leap.

Zack's muscles clench to follow but he forces himself to take stock of the situation first. A few partygoers lay horribly still, and there's a knot of people near the overturned refreshment tables. Tifa and Aerith are among them, unharmed, with Leon competing with Tifa's ready stance like a knight defending a cluster of princesses. A semi-familiar glow flares above them – Aerith's magic at work, although it's different than usual. Zack wonders who's been hurt and why there's a flower –

"Fair!" Leon barks. "Behind you!"

Zack doesn't even think. He swings his arms in a smooth arc. The Heartless falls in two rapidly dissolving pieces.

Now isn't the time for sight-seeing, but the magic of the Buster Sword is strong within him. Zack feels sick under its insistent pressure. His ears pound with his own pulse and his feet feel kind of numb. There's a dull ache in his head and chest, but the pain feels far away, like he's not totally connected to himself.

When the last of the Heartless finally fall, so does he. On his knees, the hilt of his sword pressed between his palm and the ground, he noisily throws up before collapsing onto his side, mind throbbing and vision frayed at the edges. He hears someone call his name but can't identify who it is. His heart throws itself against the inside of his ribcage. It hurts.

And then suddenly the insistent beating … stops.

Darkness swamps him.

"ZACK!"

To Be Continued …

Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs

"Mine doesn't. Didn't." Chicha sighs. "Kuzco calls it Kingdom in the Sun, but I've never liked that name."

-- The Emperor's New Groove was originally called Kingdom in the Sun as a working title. True fact!