A/N: Summer seems to have flown by this year. I went away on holiday and came back to find this thing now has four hundred reviews. Wow. Thanks to everyone who has given feedback so far, and I hope you continue to say what you do and don't like about this fic. Now the Summer Hiatus is over and we're ready to engage thrusters once more.


49. Grandmother Willow


When Kairi is three there's a meteor shower. It's not unusual – there have been more and more lately, signalling that while the Heartless haven't ventured back into this world, they're still out there, still a threat they have to worry about in that nebulous way you worry about infectious diseases and hurricanes. Several blazes of light fall around Traverse Town during the small hours, signalling that yet another world has fallen, and setting up whispers that the Heartless will return and finish what they started here.

Sometimes Zack stares up at the night sky and wonders which stars will still be there tomorrow. There's always a vague clutch of something he doesn't like; an embarrassing feeling that makes him hope, horribly, that if any world has to be targeted next, then it isn't this one. His conscience usually kicks him for being so selfish, but if it came down to a choice, 'them or us', he'd struggle.

Heroes are supposed to work for the greater good, right? That's what makes them heroes. They're defined by their good deeds and their ability to never give up if there's something – anything – worth protecting and fighting for. So Zack feels like he's betraying a part of himself every time he looks at Aerith and Cloud, or Kairi, Tifa, Yuffie, or any one of the other friends they've made here, and thinks: Them. Definitely them. Not us.

On days after these thoughts, and especially after meteor showers, he goes out to personally find and comfort survivors who've fallen here. Guilt suffuses him whenever he has to look at their confused, anguished faces and hear them ask the same old questions: What happened? Have you seen-? Did you find-? Is there anybody else who survived? Anyone apart from me?

Them or us. Them or us. Them (I can't find my daughter, mother, sister, brother, lover) or us (I love you Zack; Don't look so glum, Hero; I'm a big girl now).

So the shower that falls a few days after Kairi turns three isn't anything more remarkable than a sharp reminder that the Heartless are still out there. Zack heads out the next morning for where the fragments fell, but it's Leon who finds the old woman. She's dazed and confused, and it takes both of them to guide her back to town.

Leon is surprisingly gentle. Zack has seen a lot more emotions from him than he ever used to think possible, but gentleness has never been high on the list. He doesn't lie and tell her "It's all right", or "You'll be okay", but he does keep a hand on her elbow as he manoeuvres her to the Survivor Centre.

The Survivor Centre is an initiative both Leon and Zack have put a lot of time and energy into. Seeing how the increase in world orphans is going beyond Traverse Town's limited resources (mostly confined to the goodwill of those already there), they decided months ago to set up a place where the newly landed can be taken; somewhere they can sit and process what has happened without also worrying where they're going to sleep. After an incident of one survivor, grief-stricken and overwhelmed, committing suicide, they also set about finding counsellors. Dr. Sweet's advice has been invaluable, and the place is now manned around the clock by a series of residents who know what it feels like to wake up and discover you and the clothes on your back are all that remain of your world.

The old woman isn't as frail in mind as she appears in body. By the time Zack brings her a second cup of tea she's nodding and sighing that she suspected something like this was going to happen. Her scattered wits are gathered up into a crocheted bag on a hook in her mind, leaving her free to peer around and comment that this place needs a good sweep with a broom.

She accepts her world's fate without difficulty, wincing once but absorbing the spasm into her many wrinkles. It doesn't escape again. Even Leon seems surprised, though the only indication is a slight thinning of his lips.

Even more surprisingly, the old woman sees this and understands what it means. She chuckles sadly. "I'm not cold-blooded, just practical. Don't misunderstand me. If I think too much about the enormity of what you've just told me, I'll go mad. Being practical seems a safer option. It won't change anything, but when you get to be as old as I am, you need to hang on to every marble you can. Besides, I can't say this was entirely unexpected."

Leon and Zack exchange a glance.

"The spirits have been whispering about falling worlds for some time," she goes on, unperturbed. "The barriers between worlds are becoming weaker as people's hearts get darker with selfishness and greed. There was a lot of selfishness and greed in my world, so it was inevitable it would be targeted eventually." She shakes her head, eyes melancholy. "If only they hadn't taken the princess away and had let that poor man live instead of using him as an excuse to start their silly war. Better yet, if only they'd let them stay together instead of separating them. All that needless fighting over scraps of land. She and he could've ushered in a new era of prosperity and harmony, but no, that would've been too easy. No matter how many generations pass, they never seem to learn that it's people who matter, not acres, or shiny rocks caked in dirt."

"Ma'am," Zack says, drawing her back from her memories.

"Ma'am? Now there's something I haven't been called in a while. Mostly I've been 'Aah, what's that?' and 'Run for your lives, these woods are haunted!' but you can call me Grandmother Willow."

"Zack Fair."

"I know, dear. You introduced yourself on the way here. I'm old, not brainless." Curiosity crosses her face, which then lights up in sudden understanding. She struggles to her feet. "It's been so long since I had to wear flesh, I've forgotten what half the sensations are. Could one of you boys please help me to the little girls' room?"

"Wear flesh?" Leon says as he takes her arm again.

"Yes, dear. The last time I had a human body was four hundred years ago, when I was a lot younger. Four centuries as a tree hasn't done me any favours physically. I keep trying to feel more my roots and straining my toes by wiggling them too much. Still, you learn to cope. Time and tide take on a different bent when you have a few centuries under your belt. Before being a tree I was a rock for a hundred years, and in my youth I larked about as a rosebush, with a few years here and there as a rabbit, and a handful of very interesting years as a moose. I've been around a bit, but a tree suited me quite well, until those Heartless uprooted me and tried to bore through to my heart. It was a case of transform as quickly as possible and just try to outrun the darkness."

"What -" Zack stops himself, embarrassed.

Grandmother Willow's eyes twinkle. "What am I? A spirit, a phantom, a life-force looking for a body, or a wandering soul – as I said, I've been called many things. Right now, however, I'm an old lady with a full bladder. Excuse me."

Later, Grandmother Willow talks to Dr. Sweet and assures him she doesn't need post-traumatic stress counselling, thank you very much. After a few centuries of watching humans kill each other, and then seeing nature take everything back again, you learn to deal with tragedy and accept that there's always a Something After. No, she assures him, she's perfectly fine, but a soft place to take a nap would be lovely. And if he could just bring her a living plant to talk to, so she can get a handle on this world, that'd be lovely as well.

Zack looks at Leon behind Dr. Sweet's back, but Leon shrugs.

"Not the most unusual thing I've ever seen either," Dr. Sweet says without turning around.

And Zack has to admit the same.


Aerith is shocked when she walks into the church and finds someone already there. "Oh!"

The old woman looks over her shoulder. "Ah, you must be the flower girl they told me about."

"I, uh … hello?" Aerith takes a few steps forward, thrown by her sanctuary being invaded. Nobody comes here except their little group, and even then only Leon comes on his own. Everybody else tags along with her. To find a stranger kneeling by her precious flowers is strange. "I'm Aerith."

"That's not what they call you," the woman says with a small smile.

"They?"

"The flowers." She gestures expansively at the delicate yellow winter jasmine and cheerful pansies Aerith's spent weeks protecting from the cold. Yule has been and gone, but a sharp frost retains its hold on Traverse Town every night, reaching even into the church and Rinoa's protected soil.

"The flowers … talk to you?"

"The flowers talk to everyone, but not everybody listens. I have a feeling you know something of what they say." The old woman taps the side of her nose. "But not the whole story. Hidden meanings to each bloom and colour are all very well, but I prefer a more direct approach." She bends her head as if to sniff a bright purple pansy. "They tell me you take care of them and have hands as gentle as … oh my. I believe this one has developed something of a crush on you, child." She rolls her eyes. "Pansies. So emotional."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"You can call me Grandmother Willow."

The name clicks. "You're the woman Zack found yesterday."

"Ah, your young man?" The old woman blinks, bending her head to a jasmine blossom. She blinks again, several times, and rapidly. "Well, now! Not your only young man." Aerith's stomach clenches, but the old woman only looks at her with bright and happy eyes the colour of new shoots through snow. "I thought humans had given up on polyamory when they invented marriage. I guess old trends really do always come around again if you wait long enough."

"Poly-what?" Aerith recalls what Zack said about this woman. She also remembers some of the things she, Zack and Cloud have done in the privacy of this church, amidst the giddy scents of her flowers, and flushes scarlet.

"Don't be embarrassed, child. I only wish there was more love in the world – or at least more was allowed to exist." She sighs deeply, despondently, as though referring to something else. "Oh my. I'm having a little difficulty … dearie, could you help me -?"

"Oh! Yes, of course." Aerith helps her up, unsure how hard to grip her arm. Grandmother Willow's bones feel light as a bird's, her skin parchment-thin with spidery blue veins bulging across the backs of her hands. Her pale hair is piled on top of her head in a bun, but tendrils have broken free and dangle around her face like branches.

"Thank you. They were right. You really are a nice girl." She pats Aerith's arm. "This body won't last much longer, but I'd be glad to leave such merry plants in your care. You've done a wonderful job with them. Jasmine are usually so snobby."

"Uh…" Aerith honestly can't think what to say to this, but she doesn't have to. Grandmother Willow pats her skirt down and draws in a breath.

"Right. Now where can I find this Kairi girl the flowers have told me so much about? I'm quite interested to meet her."


Kairi loves Grandmother Willow. No sooner is the old woman through the door, she's sitting on her knee, telling her in great detail about her latest crayon masterpiece. Such simple affection is commonplace – Kairi is a friendly soul with room in her smile for anyone and everyone – but it soon becomes apparent that she's developed a special affection for the kind old lady who isn't really an old lady at all.

To be truthful, nobody is entirely sure what Grandmother Willow is, but she's so caring and placid, with such sensible advice always on hand, that nobody's willing to press her. She's there and she's a survivor, just like them, and as long as she isn't any danger (a ridiculous notion, as anybody who gets to know her can soon attest), they're happy to leave it at that.

One thing that characterises Grandmother Willow is that she loves stories. She knows so many it almost defies belief, until people remember how old she is. In her world, she explains, there were many tribes and each one had its own lore – customs for how to behave and legends about how the world came to exist. She knows them all, or so it seems, as she sits and tells an open-mouthed Kairi all about shrewd Coyote, who stole fire to give to the first people so they wouldn't die of cold; about Glooskap and his people, the Wawaniki; and about the origins of the wind and the colourful spirits that live within it.

"Story!" Kairi cries whenever the old woman comes to visit, and Grandmother Willow smiles, sits, and tells yet another new tale.

Cloud and the other adults linger to listen sometimes. Something in Kairi's curiosity stirs Grandmother Willow, and there's more than just fondness for this scrap of red hair and skinned knees. Memories dance in her eyes when she looks at Kairi, and she hugs her tightly and often. Cloud's a little jealous at first, but seeing Kairi's happy face dispels his feelings, just like seeing his smile and Aerith's dispels Zack's guilt.

Eventually, however, the stairs to their apartment become too much for Grandmother Willow's knees. By this time she's gained her own house in town, sharing with a few other, much more dignified old ladies who sniff at Grandmother Willow's many plants, and the way she always leaves the windows open so wildlife can creep into town and into her home. Animals are drawn to her, sensing something in her that calms and takes away their fears of manmade buildings and tempting them into Traverse Town when they'd usually give it a wide berth.

"There's nothing that can compare to a wild fox nudging you awake as it sits next to your hearth," she says with that enigmatic smile she sometimes wears, as though she's in on some huge secret nobody else is even aware of.

She insists the stories continue even though her old bones can't make it to their apartment, and so Kairi is brought to see her several times a week. Where other children her age would rather be out playing every waking moment, as soon as anyone mentions Grandmother Willow she's on her feet, having abandoned whatever else she's doing, and is standing at the door ready to go.

"I love Grandmother Willow," she proclaims when Aerith kisses her goodnight, and again when Yuffie plays Ninja Wars with her across the furniture. "I love Grandmother Willow's stories."

"She's a very sociable young lady," Grandmother Willow herself informs Cloud one day, months later, when he falls asleep in one of the old ladies' stiff-backed armchairs, exhausted from a recent trip to Saunterville. Kairi bounces on his stomach to wake him up, which doesn't strike Cloud as very sociable at all.

"He's just like Sleepy Tortoise," she says, looking over her shoulder at Grandmother Willow. "From the story. You'll never win any races like that, Cloud."

"You need lungs to win races," Cloud wheezes.

Grandmother Willow laughs like a drain at Kairi's baffled expression. "Kairi, dear, why don't you go and fetch the tin of biscuits? They're on the side just there, and the lid's already off. You can have first pick, if you like."

"I like biscuits. They're yummy. I like Aerith's cookies best, but your biscuits are nice too, Grandmother Willow." Kairi bounces off Cloud, relieving his chest of all air once more, and hurries to make the important choice between coconut macaroon and chocolate digestive.

"She certainly is a special young lady," says Grandmother Willow. "You should be proud of her."

Cloud, still breathless, can only nod.

"She knows how to listen with her heart. That's a very rare talent." She gets a contemplative look. "I wonder if you understand just how special she truly is."

"Excuse me?" Cloud finally rasps.

"Oh, nothing. Just the ramblings of an old fool."

Cloud isn't deceived for a second. Grandmother Willow may be old, but she's no fool. There's extra weight behind her 'special' and it makes him pull himself up in his chair and lean towards her, elbows on his knees. "Kairi is very special. She's also very important to me. To all of us." He allows the hidden meaning of this to sink in.

"I never said she wasn't. The very idea – preposterous. You've been missing too much sleep with all your travelling, young man." Grandmother Willow looks at Kairi again and raises a loose fist, as though considering resting her chin on it but then thinking better of the idea. Her arms are thin beneath her shawl, her legs even thinner under her skirt. She doesn't get out much anymore and her muscles are becoming wasted. It's a little disturbing to see, since she's so swaddled in clothes and blankets she looks like she rolled in glue and then threw herself at her wardrobe. "In all my centuries, I've met only a handful of people with a genuine ability to listen with their hearts. The last one was my princess, who was precious to me the way Kairi's precious to you." She shakes her head, but Cloud hears the muted ache in her voice. It's about the only time she ever shows genuine sadness, when she talks about 'her princess'.

"Do you miss her?"

"Terribly. She could've saved our world, given half a chance. But no, the evil in the hearts of others put paid to that. Sometimes the light of a single heart can shine through the darkness and drive it back – it only takes one star to lead you home when you're lost, after all. But sometimes one heart can overflow with goodness and light and still be just one heart. A single matchstick can't hold back a bursting dam, no matter how brightly it shines." She bites the tip of one finger in thought. "I wonder which will be the case this time?"

"Grandmother Willow." Kairi plunks the biscuit tin unceremoniously on her lap. "There aren't any macaroons," she says like it's a major oversight, and her little scrunched up face sends the old woman into fresh fits of laughter.

These stop, however, when she coughs so violently that Kairi steps away from her, eyes wide.

Cloud is out of his chair and at her side in an instant, but she bats him away. "Don't fuss so, I'm all right. I wasn't able to construct a body with much life left in it when those accursed Heartless uprooted me. I'll be fine, don't worry. There won't be much more of this."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cloud asks, alarmed, but she says nothing more on the matter, just reaches for Kairi and pulls her with difficulty onto her knee.

"Now tell Cloud, young lady, how do we listen?"

Kairi pats the side of her head and her front. "With our ears and our hearts," she intones, with even more solemnity than she treated the problem of the missing macaroons.

"Good girl. Now, how would you like to hear the Sioux story of Unktomi and the Arrowheads? I don't think I've told you that one before…"


Cloud thinks about Grandmother Willow's words well after the end of the visit, and even after Kairi has gone to bed that night. When he retires himself he doesn't sleep, but lies with his hands under his head, staring at the ceiling in silence until Zack leans over.

"You've been awful quiet this evening. Well, more than normal. What's up?"

"Zack, do you think Kairi's special?"

"That's a dumb question. Of course she's special."

"How special?"

Zack frowns. "How long is a piece of string? I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Something Grandmother Willow said. It got me thinking."

"About …?"

"Keyblades."

Zack withdraws his hand and props himself up, bed sheets pooling around his waist. "What about them?" he asks carefully.

"She said Kairi has the ability to 'listen with her heart', and that only her lost princess could do that. She also said some stuff about one heart trying to hold back the darkness. It made me think about … well, about Kairi's future."

"She could just be rambling. She is ancient."

Cloud just looks at him without blinking, until Zack drops his gaze. "When have you ever known Grandmother Willow ramble when she's not telling a story?"

"Okay, point taken. So that's what's bugging you?"

"I don't know what's bugging me, exactly." Cloud scratches the centre of his chest. The skin there is smooth and unblemished, but still prickles like a scab waiting to be peeled off. "I just wonder sometimes whether Aerith was right, and what that might mean for Kairi."

"There's no point worrying about stuff that may not even be an issue," Zack advises, pushing hair from his face but keeping his gaze trained on Cloud's frown. "Kairi's never shown any further indication of using a keyblade, right? And the Heartless haven't attacked in over a year, so she's pretty safe from them. Nothing about her has drawn them here like we worried it might, which is quite a large sign that she isn't some chosen child who's supposed to fight the darkness all on her own."

"I guess. But that first time was a doozy of an indication, don't you think?"

"There are other possible explanations for how we got here, Cloud. It doesn't have to be because of her. There's so much more we know now than we did back then, and amongst all that there's bound to be a more believable explanation than Kairi being able to call on an ancient weapon nobody's even sure exists anymore. Well, outside legends, at least. It could be something really simple we just haven't heard about yet, and Kairi's a normal little girl who had a lot of bad shit happen to her when she was really young but came out of it with a great personality anyway. I'd say that makes her special enough, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose so." Still, Cloud gnaws on his lower lip until Zack leans in to cover it in a kiss and his mind becomes occupied by something else entirely.


To Be Continued …