Manifestation
Chapter One

SIX MONTHS AFTER METEOR'S DESTRUCTION

The tinkling sound of the bell rang out as someone entered the store. A pair of chocolate-brown eyes looked up from some papers scattered on a desk and assessed the stranger. "Welcome to Nibelheim Inn, may I help you?" Tifa asked cheerfully, scooting her chair away from the desk and standing up with a stretch of her sculpted arms. She didn't miss how the customer - a young boy most likely in his teens - studied her body, clothed in a simple sundress with a scarf tied around the waist. A wave of resentment towards this action flashed through her, before she squashed the feeling and once more fastened a brilliant smile on her lips.

"Yeah, I guess I just need...a room for the night," the boy answered. He seemed to almost stumble over the words, as though his mouth were clogged with dirt. "Just for one night, please." Tifa narrowed her eyes and looked to the desk, picking up a clipboard with some notes jotted down on it.

"It looks like we have a room open. Here's your key..." She leaned over to snatch a key off a hook on the wall with a number painted on it. "You're in room number four. Please have a nice stay." The boy nodded before taking the key and heading for the stairs. Tifa winced as she watched him trip up nearly every single step. "What is he, drunk or something?" she muttered under her breath.

She shook her head and plopped back down into her seat. Sitting in front of her was the stack of bills for the month, ready to be paid...with money she didn't have. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, when she was still recovering from the shock after Cloud's rejection. Her heart had ached to be somewhere familiar, and drowning out her sorrows with cheap booze in a Costa del Sol apartment hadn't dissolved the pangs of her grief. So she had made up her mind to move back to Nibelheim and renovate the Inn, rebuilding the tiny structure to include more rooms, and start a business there. After all, just a few weeks after Shinra's downfall, the company workers pretending to live in the town had fled. Families were starting lives there anew, and she had wanted so badly to start anew. To forget everything that had happened, with Sephiroth, Aeris, Jenova...and Cloud.

But the cost of adding on a few more rooms had been much more than she had figured, and now she found herself stuck in debt. She couldn't just leave; she was barely scraping a living off of the Inn alone. She was truly and completely trapped, and still miserable. Her brilliant plan had failed.

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Later that night, Tifa stood up from the desk once more and clicked off the lamp. The clock on the wall nearby read 1:00 AM, and her brain was foggy with the need of sleep. She muffled a yawn with her hand and shuffled to the door behind her, opening it to step inside her tiny house. It was basically just a tiny kitchen with a few appliances and rusty pots and pans, a living room with a threadbare couch and a tiny bathroom off to the side. Her bedroom was up a short flight of steps, and she headed that way, climbing the short staircase to turn the doorknob.

Once inside her room, she instantly headed for the desk against the far wall, opening a compartment and sliding out a bottle of whiskey. Taking out a glass as well, already sticky with the scent of the alcohol, she poured herself a shot and downed it like a drowning man desperate for oxygen. She needed to forget.

Around six shots later, her mind was already beginning to fuzz over with the blissful release of being drunk. The whiskey soothed her nerves, numbed her feelings. Her head shot up as a knock was heard on her bedroom door, and she slid off the bed. "Who...is it?" she asked, slurring her words slightly. There was no answer, and her pretty features twisted into a scowl. She walked over to the door and opened it just a crack.

"It's me." She tried to focus her blurry eyes and then nodded. It was just the young boy from earlier, the one who had rented room number four.

"Yes...is there a problem, sir?" she questioned, trying to appear professional even though she knew she was tipsy. The boy's eyes narrowed and flashed as he once more took in her body, now in her tiny nightgown. She felt yet another wave of anger. She hated it when men looked at her like she was just some common slut. "Look, kid, do you mind? My eyes are up here," she snapped, crabby and at the end of her rope. "Now, is there something the matter with your room or what?"

His eyes focused on hers as she had asked, and she took a step back. They were black with rage, and...odd-looking, somehow. As though he were dead. Emotionless, save for the anger in them. A shudder overtook her body and she tried to slam the door shut on instinct. His eyes made her feel trapped. However, he moved quicker, and blocked the door with his hand.

"Let me in." His voice was cold and hard, and he shoved the door open with his shoulder. Tifa took a few more steps away from him, her heart pounding in her chest, loud as a drum. Now that she was away from the door, the boy had no trouble opening it the rest of the way. He began towards her, the black in his eyes growing even darker in menace. "Give me...what I want..."

He seemed almost zombie-like, his movements and speech all in a monotone. He continued towards her until he had her backed up against the desk, and his hand reached out and tried to fondle her chest. Shutting her eyes, Tifa reached behind her quickly, felt for the whiskey bottle, and raised it above the boy's head –

Gunshots suddenly ricochet around the room and Tifa instantly dropped to her knees and covered her ears. The air became hot and bloody and she heard the boy screaming in pain, before his cries were suddenly cut off. She hesitantly opened her eyes, almost afraid to see who had come to her rescue.

The first thing her eyes focused on was the body of the boy who had just tried to rape her. Tears leaked from her eyes and she tried desperately to gulp them away. She was aware of a red cloak in the room, and its familiarity tugged at her senses, which were numb with shock and whiskey. She lifted her head to meet the eyes of her rescuer, chocolate- brown meeting cold ebony. "Vincent..." she murmured, her face shiny and slick with her salty tears.

Vincent Valentine put his handgun securely back into its holster at his waist. He stepped over the dead body and offered her his hand, which she took after a moment's hesitation.

"Tifa, I'm afraid there's been a problem."

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Author's Note - Well, I'm going to end there. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll have the next one out soon. Sorry about the cliffhanger!