A\N: Hi! This story is for Tifa Week, and thus will be split into two parts: part one for the the birthday prompt, part two for the free day. The M rating is for the second part; also there'll be some angst, just a sprinkle for flavor.

Title is a line from an Emery Allen poem: "I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything / Maybe we're from the same star."

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Maybe we're from the same star

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part one

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Tifa meets her soulmate on her ninth birthday.

There is a lot of noise in the morning—cars and trucks and shouts and laughter. She goes to the window to check. She stands on her tiptoes and sees that people are moving into the house next to theirs. Her Dad joins her, bringing a chair over so she can better observe the bustle. As a blonde woman and kid get out of a car, her father lets out a surprised noise. Tifa turns her wide eyes to him.

"Do you know them, Dad?"

"Yeah," he says, still staring out of the window. He leaves it at that.

Tifa keeps on watching until the blonde kid goes inside the house with the woman. "Should we go say hello?"

Her father glances down at her as she gets off the chair. "Later. Let them settle in first."

While she is disappointed, she nods and goes back to her breakfast. The unknown people are all she can focus on—something about having a neighbor her age, someone she can play with, raises her spirits and anticipation builds within her. When her father says they can go say hello—finally—Tifa is bursting with energy; she almost runs down the sidewalk to the next-door house. To her delight, the kid is out front, playing with a soccer ball. He looks up at their approach, and Tifa's good mood plummets at the mean look he sends her. She slows down and waits for her Dad to catch up, now uncertain about meeting them. In answer, her father takes her hand, knowing she needs reassurance; he stops at the end of the driveway.

"You must be Cloud?" he calls out to the kid. "Last time I saw you, you were a lot smaller."

The kid frowns. "Who are you?"

Her father laughs, and Tifa isn't sure why. This kid is impolite and nothing is funny about bad manners; that's what her mother used to say.

"Could you tell your mother Brian Lockhart is here, Cloud?"

It takes a moment for the kid to twist on his feet and head inside. When he comes back, the blonde woman Tifa saw earlier accompanies him. Cloud's mother smiles, wide and friendly, and Tifa thinks of how much nicer she is than her son.

"Brian! It's been a few years."

Her father leads them up the driveway to talk with Cloud's mother; he tugs at Tifa's hand when she doesn't move, and she has no chance but to come along. Still, she stays at her Dad's side. She keeps an eye on Cloud as he ignores them, too busy playing with the soccer ball.

"Tifa," her father says, bringing her attention back to the adults, "this is Claudia Strife. She just moved back here with her son, Cloud."

Tifa retreats behind her father's legs a little, suddenly shy. "Hi," she whispers.

"Hi, sweetie," Claudia says with another warm smile. "Cloud, come over here, would you?"

Cloud puts a foot on the soccer ball to stop it from rolling away but stays where he is.

"Don't be rude." His mother's tone takes on a harsh edge. "Come say hello."

With obvious frustration, Cloud walks up to them, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. "Hi," he mumbles, kicking at the ground.

The adults fill the silence with their talk, but Tifa isn't listening; she stares at Cloud until he meets her gaze. To her surprise, he looks down at that. It reminds Tifa of how a friend from school always flees people's eyes, too shy to stand it. It's Tifa's turn to frown.

"Are you shy?" she asks out of the blue, surprising everyone. "Is that why you're rude?"

Cloud's eyes widen and his cheeks redden; he turns his head so he isn't facing her anymore. Claudia pats him on the head, to his annoyance.

"He is a little shy," his mother laughs as he pushes her hand away. "The move isn't helping. Why don't you two go play for a bit, get to know each other? What do you say, Cloud?"

Tifa holds her breath as she waits for his answer; he still isn't looking her way.

"Whatever." The word is a grumble, as if he feels the obligation to agree. He waves at Tifa to follow him. "Come on."

Her hesitation must show because her father gently pushes her forward. "Go on, Tifa."

After another moment of doubt, she walks over to Cloud, who resumed playing with the soccer ball.

"How old are you?" she asks when he doesn't speak.

Cloud gives her a quick glance. "Ten."

Silence falls again. Tifa wants to play soccer, too, but Cloud's attitude makes her too nervous to ask. So she sits on the grass and watches him bounce the ball around on his feet, sulking about how her birthday sucks so far. It's an eternity before he turns to her. His face is red again.

"Do you—uh, do you want to play?"

Tifa jumps to her feet, brushing off her clothes. "Yes!"

"You want to goal or shoot?" he asks once she's joined him.

"Shoot," is her immediate answer. "But we can switch after."

Cloud looks glad at her suggestion; they set up an imaginary goal in front of the fence separating their houses and take turns shooting the ball. Though they aren't keeping track of the goals, Tifa can tell she's the one in the lead, and the hidden, competitive part of her loves it. It surprises her to see Cloud doesn't mind losing, not like some of the boys at school. The more they play, the more relaxed he becomes, and he even smiles when she scores. It makes her smile back.

Her Dad calls for her as she is the goalkeeper, distracting her for a second, but it's enough not to notice Cloud's kick until it's too late. The ball collides with her head, and she lets out a noise of both pain and surprise. She hears shouts and gasps and people coming near, but her eyes stay closed as she folds unto herself, a reflexive action. But it's the sharp flare of pain on her forearm that causes her to cry out more than the hit to her head. She pushes against what is causing her to hurt until it lets go. The pain doesn't ease, not yet, and when Tifa opens her eyes, she sees her dumbfounded father and Cloud's shocked mother. And then Cloud, who stares at his left hand with astonishment and fear. Tifa glances at her arm—there is nothing where she feels the acute sting.

Claudia moves abruptly, kneeling next to Cloud and grasping his hand in hers, looking it over. "What did you feel?"

Her worried tone snaps Tifa's father out of his stunned state. He hauls her to her feet and tucks her against his body. "Are you okay, Tifa?"

She nods despite her confusion. Yes, her arm hurts, but it's starting to fade away. "Dad, what happened?"

"It burned," Cloud says, alarm seeping into his voice. "When she grabbed my wrist, it burned. Mom, what does—"

His mother says something Tifa can't hear, and this time when Cloud looks at her, there is wonder in his eyes—but the fear also hasn't dissipated.

"We'll head back," her father says, drawing all eyes to him. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Claudia." His statement leaves no place for questions. He grabs Tifa's hand and pulls her along with him towards their house.

Tifa turns her head, a part of her—deep, deep down—feeling like she shouldn't walk away. Cloud is still on the ground talking with his mother, but his gaze doesn't stray from hers. It's only once her father and her have entered their house that Tifa senses a tightness in her chest, like something is missing and she can't breathe properly without it. That's what she tells her Dad, and he sighs before signaling at her to sit on the couch next to him. Once she does, he grasps her arm, his movements delicate as if he's afraid to hurt her. Tifa doesn't say the pain went away because that's not true—it just migrated to her heart.

When her Dad asks if she knows what soulmates are, Tifa says yes—everyone knows what soulmates are. They are people fated to be together for life. Her answer brings a sense of sadness to her father's expression, but he hides it as he tells her that is what her and Cloud are. Tifa can only blink at him with a strange fascination, as if expecting him to say it's a joke.

"I have a soulmate?" she whispers once it's clear he is serious.

"Yes." Her Dad turns her arm up so she can see the spot Cloud touched. "When your soulmate touches you the first time, it hurts. That's what happened when Cloud grabbed your arm, isn't it?"

She nods, and fear swirls through her, at last showing up. Nothing about this had seemed too scary before learning Cloud is her soulmate. "And I grabbed his wrist. Dad, what does it mean? Does it mean I have to marry him?" She makes a face. "I don't want to."

Her father laughs at this. Tifa once again thinks there is something sad about him as he speaks, "Of course not, Tifa. You'll never have to marry anyone if you don't want to."

She lets out a sigh, relief loosening the tension in her shoulders. "Then, what does it mean?"

"It means… It means nothing for now," he says, releasing her arm. His voice is the same as when he scolds her, so she knows this is serious.

"Okay. But I can talk to him, right?"

For some reason, the notion of not seeing or talking to Cloud again worsens the ache in her chest. Tifa doesn't understand what it means, and she hopes it'll go away in time.

"Yes, of course, Tifa." Her Dad hugs her, brief and tight, and then gets up. "Let's finish your birthday preparations."

All this soulmates business almost made her forget today is her birthday. The excitement for her party in the afternoon returns, and she shoves the thought of Cloud away. She follows her Dad in the kitchen; together, they decorate the house and bake a cake. By the time her friends arrive, Tifa has forgotten what happened this morning, too distracted by the joy she feels to care about her throbbing heart.

Once everyone has left, Tifa goes in the backyard, still basking in the good spirits this afternoon brought her. Her father stays inside, watching TV and occasionally checking on her. Tifa sits on the deck and gazes at the stars. In the darkness, with the sound of the TV drifting through the open door, she remembers the stinging sensation that set fire to her arm. There is no trace left behind where Cloud touched her—nothing to prove they are soulmates. Tifa grimaces. What does having a soulmate do, anyway?

Noise on the other side of the fence draws her attention; two of the panels are missing, and she sees Cloud walk by. She is up on her feet and near the fence before she knows it. She looks into their backyard, surprised to see how empty it is until she recalls they moved in today. Cloud is lying on his back, his hands crossed behind his head; Tifa imagines he is observing the stars just like she was a minute ago. The thought makes her happy.

"Cloud," she calls out, voice low. "Hey!"

He sits up fast as if surprised but finds her immediately and stands up. Tifa considers it a victory when he comes to stand on the other side of the fence despite his silence.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

Cloud chews his bottom lip, then says, "Yeah. Are you?"

She nods. "Did your mom explain what happened?"

His eyes drop to the ground. "Yeah."

Tifa's heart falls at his disheartened posture, and she can't help her next words. "Are you sad about being my soulmate?"

"What?" Cloud's head snaps up at her question. "No! That's not—I don't even know you." He lets out a long sigh. "I just had a bad day."

"Oh," Tifa says with a slight frown, unsure what to make of his other comment, "that's not fun. I would have invited you if I had known."

"Invited me?"

Tifa smiles. "Today is my birthday. I turned nine."

Cloud blinks several times like he doesn't know what to say to that. When he opens his mouth to speak, she expects he'll say 'happy birthday', but he says, "Sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to hit you."

"Don't worry, I know that!"

"Okay, well…" He rubs the back of his head. "Just to be sure."

Tifa laughs at his reaction, finding it a little sweet. It's not often that the boys at school apologize for anything. Cloud blushes and turns his head away to hide it.

Her curiosity gets the better of her. "What were you doing earlier?" At his puzzled expression, she adds, "Were you watching the stars?"

"Uh, yeah." He clears his throat. "You can't see them like that in Midgar."

"Wow, you're from Midgar? That's so far!"

Cloud faces her again. "I was born here, but I don't remember much."

"I've never left Nibelheim," Tifa says, pouting.

"It's small." Cloud shakes his head. "But we have a bigger house here."

"Are you going to stay here?" The question leaves her unbidden. There's something scary about the idea of him not staying, even if Tifa can't understand why.

"Yeah," he says, "I don't think we're gonna go back to Midgar."

"Okay. That's good. I was looking at the stars, too." A glimmer of interest lights up Cloud's face, encouraging her. "Wanna watch them together?"

Cloud throws a glance over his shoulder. His new house is dark except for a faint light on the second floor. "Sure," he says. He doesn't ask her to come over on his side of the fence and instead crosses into her backyard through the hole formed by the missing panels. He grunts as his sleeve catches on splinters of wood but dislodges it without ripping it. Once he's through, he rubs his wrist where the splinters scratched it. Tifa notices it's his left hand—the one she grabbed this morning.

"Does it hurt?" she asks as they lay down on the grass.

"It's just a scratch."

"No, I mean, you know…" Tifa keeps her eyes on the stars. "When I touched you earlier."

Cloud keeps quiet for a minute, then says, "Does it still hurt for you?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"That's good, right?"

"I don't know." She hears his frustrated sigh. "Mom just said not to worry about it."

"My Dad said I don't have to marry you." At his snort, she adds, "He also said it doesn't mean anything for now."

They observe the sky for a while, the noise from the TV still playing in the background.

"I think Dad fell asleep," Tifa says, wondering why he hasn't come out to check on her in a while.

"My mom's sleeping, too. She was really tired."

Tifa turns right to look at Cloud, although he keeps his gaze up. "Can I see your wrist?" Her voice is soft; she's not sure why it scares her that he would refuse.

It takes Cloud a moment to raise his arm so she can see the underside of his wrist. Like with her arm, there is no mark, no scar to spell out their would-be connection.

"I wonder why it hurt," she says even if she knows he won't have the answer.

"So we'd know, I guess. Can I see yours?"

She sits up; Cloud follows suit. "Nothing. Just like you," she says as she pulls back her sleeve to show him.

He places his wrist next to her forearm as if to compare, careful not to touch her. Tifa contemplates him as he gets that mean look again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Cloud goes to pull his arm back, but Tifa reaches out and grasps his wrist. It's both interest at what will happen and at what is bothering him. This time, there is no pain—there is nothing, in fact. This is no different than when she grabs her friends' hands or hugs her father. Cloud's surprised expression tells her it's the same for him.

"Why don't you tell me what's annoying you?" Tifa doesn't let go of his wrist. "Are you mad that you have a soulmate?"

Slowly, he extends his other hand to touch her forearm. His fingers brush her skin as if he's afraid of what could happen. But still nothing. He pulls back, and Tifa releases her hold on him.

"I'm not mad," he says. He sounds a little far away, almost lost to his thoughts. "I'm not even sure what a soulmate is, anyway."

"Hm, well, I've heard it's someone you're supposed to spend your life with. But that sounds like marriage." She wrinkles her nose at the idea.

When Cloud laughs, it shocks Tifa; he doesn't seem like a boy who laughs a lot, and she realizes it's because he found her funny. She smiles and giggles.

"I don't think it's marriage," Cloud says, a hint of mirth still in his voice. "It has to be different."

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

Tifa leans forward a little, inciting Cloud to do the same. What she is about to say feels like a secret. Maybe it's because of the way the adults dismissed what Cloud and her are supposed to be—or maybe it's because she's afraid speaking too loudly will carry her words on the breeze and they'll be lost forever. This is between Cloud and her, and no one else.

"We could find out together."

"Being soulmates?"

"Yeah! If no one will tell us, we'll have to figure it out."

Cloud frowns, but then his features clear. "You're right."

Without knowing why, Tifa heart beats faster and faster in her chest—but it's not the same pain she experienced this morning, not that tightness that made it difficult to breathe. This is a good pain, she thinks, almost like when you're too excited that you feel sick—you know it'll be worth it in the end.

"We should promise," she whispers.

"Promise what exactly?"

She says nothing as she grabs his wrist again. The flow of his pulse drums on her thumb, a hurried rhythm she recognizes as her own. There's something both comforting and terrifying about that. And yet, Tifa tightens her grip.

"To find out together."

"Alright," Cloud says. Though he says it softly, there's no uncertainty in his voice. "I promise."

"I promise, too," Tifa echoes.

She's reluctant to slant back and let go of his wrist, but after a moment, she does. Cloud stares at her hand as it retreats to her side.

"I should go back." The admission sounds loud in the dark.

"Yeah, of course," Tifa says, a little disappointed, but keeping that to herself.

They both stand, and Tifa watches him go through the hole in the fence again. He crosses on the other side, but stops, then turns around to face her; he waves at her to come closer. Curious, Tifa does.

"Did you—" He hesitates and bites his lip. Finally, he carries on, "This morning, when you left, I felt weird for a while."

Tifa's eyes widen. "Like you couldn't breathe well?"

"Yeah, that." Cloud sighs, his relief palpable. "That must be part of being soulmates, right?"

"I guess so," Tifa says. "We'll know soon enough."

His eyes stray to his house as if worried about something. "Yeah, I guess."

Tifa can understand he wants to leave, so she says, "Goodnight," before backing away with a wave.

"Hey!"

She twists around, a foot on the deck's first step. "Yeah?"

Despite the dimness, she swears she sees his smile. "Happy birthday."

Her own smile grows; her disappointment evaporates. "Thank you."

The TV is still playing when she slides the door shut. Her father is sprawled in his armchair, his muted snoring heard once she turns off the TV. Tifa knows that when her Dad is snoring, it means he won't wake up, so she grabs the throw on the couch and drops it in his lap in hopes he won't be cold.

In her room, under her covers, Tifa stares at her ceiling and the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to it. They're not as pretty as the ones in the sky, but they've always brought her a certain serenity. It's a slice of the universe belonging to her and her alone.

Her arm stings suddenly, a flash that goes away just as quickly. It's not as bad as it did this morning, but enough to make her wince. Tifa brings it up and sucks in a breath when she takes in the elongated eight-pointed star mark on her skin. She runs her hand over it, amazed and frightened; her skin is smooth where the mark is. It's almost like a tattoo, she thinks, like her Dad's on his shoulder. For a second, she wonders if maybe it is the same—if maybe her Dad has a soulmate too.

Because that has to be it, right? It has to be a kind of soulmate mark. She can't conjure any other explanation for the unforeseen manifestation of a tattoo where Cloud touched her. Tifa releases a loud breath and lets her arm fall back to her side.

"We'll figure it out together," she promises to no one.

Above, the stars glow as the only witnesses.

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