Edit: Fixed some typos. I've reread this chapter at least a dozen times, and yet they seem to multiple as soon as I hit publish. Ugh.
Happy Friday! I hope that everyone has had a good week. As always, thank you all so much for all of your reviews! I wasn't sure how everyone would take the weekly updates as opposed to daily, but so far everyone has been very kind and understanding about it. Thank you so much! In return, I'll do my best to keep the weekly chapters as high-quality as possible :)
Also, I loved that so many of you picked up the subtle differences in Cloud's psyche compared to canon. These subtle differences will have a butterfly effect throughout the rest of the story, which I'm so excited to write for you all! And I know I keep saying this, but it's so much fun to read your take on the story: what you expect will happen; what you're looking forward to; what you like, and especially what you don't (as long as your respectful about it, of course!) Fun fact: if you somehow manage to convince me that your idea is better than mine, and you use some solid examples to back up your stance, I may just incorporate it into the plot ;) Just saying!
Enjoy the chapter!
"Well, we're here."
Tifa flicked on her apartment light, and a lamp flickered before basking the small room in a warm, golden glow. It room itself wasn't much to look at. There were no decorations of any sort, nothing that indicated that it was hers or that it had been hers for just about five years now. What little possessions she did own were small. Tidy. The bare minimum. Coupled with the stack of unopened boxes left over from years ago, it occurred to Tifa that it looked like she had just moved in… or maybe she was just about to move out. Well, I guess it doesn't really matter, Tifa thought, stifling a frown. It's better than nothing. Flashing Cloud a brief smile, she continued, "I know it's not much, but... make yourself at home."
Cloud nodded from his spot against the wall, but Tifa got the sense that he hadn't really heard her. He looked… well, exhausted. His teal eyes were dull and glazed as they slipped over the room, but he didn't seem to be really seeing anything. That, coupled with the faint trembling of his knees and hands, his pallor skin, his blank expression…
Tifa tore her gaze away. He looks sick, she thought, and not for the first time. A familiar worry twisted within her. He had seemed so… so scared at the train station. He had even slapped her hand away, told her not to touch him, and then his small gasp when he finally recognized her, his relief. Like he had thought that she had been someone else.
But who? Tifa thought, chewing her inner cheek. Who would he be so afraid of?
Her eyes pricked, but she quickly blinked the sudden emotion away. That wouldn't help her now. She needed to focus. "Anyway," she continued, clearing her throat, "the bathroom and shower is over here." She opened the door to the simple restroom and added, "The water heater doesn't last very long, so if you want a hot shower, you better do it quick. Towels are here -" she tapped on one of the cabinets behind her "- and I think I have a spare toothbrush here… oh, I do." She pulled a toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet, grateful that at least something went right today. "I'll set it beside the sink for you. Shower is all yours. Oh, and let me find you some clothes..."
Cloud's gaze, nearly luminous in the faint light, tracked her as she reentered the main room and went through the laundry hamper. She tried to ignore how intent his stare was, how piercing, or how exposed it made her feel as she held up one of Biggs' green-shirts and a pair of black pants. "It's clean, I promise," she said, holding the articles of clothing against Cloud's thinner frame. "And it looks like it'll fit, too," she added, pleased. "Good. I had hoped they might."
Cloud head tilted as he blinked at the clothes, as if he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. "Clothes?"
"Well, you can't go around wearing that," Tifa teased.
Cloud's brow furrowed, a subtle expression, and he glanced down at himself. Blinked at the gray shirt and pants, all dirty and scraped from wherever he had come from. "Right," he finally said.
"Right," Tifa repeated, and placed the shirt and black pants on the bathroom counter. "I'll just put them right here, okay?"
"Okay."
Tifa paused at his tone and stole a glance at him, only to blush when she noticed that Cloud was still staring at her. Suddenly, she would have given just about anything to know what Cloud was thinking. Like if he was happy to be here. Or if he was happy to see her.
Tifa, realizing that she was also staring, tore her gaze away. "Anyway," she continued, impatiently pushing her hair behind her ear, "like I said, the clothes should fit. But we can go shopping tomorrow and get you something better." She glanced at him, her ruby eyes bright and seeking. Searching for a reaction. "How does that sound?"
Cloud blinked at her. Blinked and stared, as if he was trying and failing to process the question, before his chin tilted into something like a nod.
That was good enough for her. Relief warmed Tifa and eased the tension in her shoulders, tension she didn't even know she had. "Great," she continued. "Also, I don't really much food here, so I'm going to drop by the bar for a bit and pick something up. Okay?"
At that, something like apprehension flickered across his face. The mako in his eyes burned a bit hotter, a bit brighter, as if there was a fire churning behind them. "You're... leaving?"
"Only for a few minutes, I promise," Tifa reassured, but suddenly she wasn't sure if it was such a good idea. His voice was been so quiet, his expression so vulnerable – it was as if they were suddenly back on the Sector 6 train platform, and he had just realized she was actually there instead of... whoever he thought she was. Biting her lip, she asked, "Will you okay by yourself?"
Cloud's lips twitched into something like a frown, but then it was gone and he was nodding – a faint jerk of his head.
"Sounds good." Tifa watched him for a moment, her throat tight. "I'll only be ten minutes tops, okay?" Regret flickered through her, but Cloud did say that he would be fine by himself. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like she didn't trust him or something. Reaching for her keys, she continued, "And when I do come back, I'll have something for dinner." She paused at the door. "Anything you're craving?"
Cloud's head tilted to the side and, after mulling over the question, shook his head. But then he paused, glanced at the floor, and his trembling fingers fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater. Tifa froze; she recognized that look. It was the same look he had given her a lifetime ago, back when he wanted her to meet him at the water-tower. It meant that Cloud wanted to tell her something, desperately, but wasn't entirely sure how. The memory was so achingly bitter-sweet, that Tifa was smiling without realizing it.
"Tifa..." Cloud's voice was quiet, so quiet, and Tifa found herself straining to listen. "Are…" His gaze jumped to hers. "Are you... sure?"
Tifa blinked in surprise. "About what, dinner? Of course," she said, her tone teasing. "I'm not going to bring you here and not feed you."
"No, that's..." Cloud's gaze flicked to the wall, and his expression minutely shifting into one more like defeat. "Not… dinner."
Oh. He didn't have to say anything more. Tifa's smile softened as she realized, He's asking if it's okay if he stays here. And the realization warmed something within her, something she had thought was buried, though she didn't exactly know why. "Of course I'm sure," she told him, and her tone left no room for argument. "In fact..." Her voice warmed, grew a little quieter. "I'm more sure about this than anything in a long while."
Cloud's eyes jumped to her, and his expression flickered into something more like concern. "Tifa..."
"No buts," Tifa said, cutting him off. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. I don't know what happened to you… before this," she added, biting her lip, "and you don't have to tell me. Truly. But… But just know that I'm here for you. Okay?"
Cloud blinked, uncomprehending, and stared at her a moment too long before color kissed his cheeks – the only indication of his embarrassment.
When Tifa realized that he wasn't going to further comment, she said, "I'll be right back." Disappoint stung her chest, but she was quick to shake it off. She had no right to be disappointed with him. That wouldn't be fair. "Anyway, when I'm gone, help yourself to the shower," she added. Opening the door, and inhaling the distinctly sour Sector 7 slum scent, she glanced over her shoulder and repeated, "I'll be right back. Ten minutes tops."
Cloud's gaze flicked to her. The mako was still burning bright, so bright that the sea glass green nearly overshadowed his natural blue, before the glow faded and he managed a faint nod. Tifa smiled in return – What does that glow mean? - and closed the door behind her…
...only to lean right back into it, drop her head into her hands, and swallow her sigh. The door was rough and hard against her back. Thoughts and emotions spiderwebbed in her mind, a thick tangle that she didn't have the energy to work through right now.
What was wrong with her today?
Seventh Heaven was a short, two minute walk from Tifa's apartment, and she knew it so well that she could have walked it blindfolded if she had to. Dirt pillowed her steps as she walked its length, and her brow was furrowed, her sight turned inward. She hadn't really wanted to go to Seventh Heaven tonight, and not because she didn't like the bar. In fact, she loved the bar. She loved everyone who came in, loved the busyness it brought, loved the conversations she'd have, loved listening to music playing through the old jukebox.
But at the same time, she had wanted a break from it all. It was why she went to the Sector 6 market. It was why she had bought so many groceries, and why she had even splurged on a bottle of wine. She just needed to take a step back from Avalanche and everything that came with it. The bombing mission. The lectures on how the Planet was dying, how Shinra was sucking the Planet's life dry, and how they were the only few people standing between it and destruction. Sometimes it became too much.
She was so deep in her thoughts, she had pushed the Seventh Heaven door open without really noticing who was here. "Tifa!" Biggs grinned at her from behind the counter and her head snapped up, surprised at the exclamation, before her expression smoothed into a smile.
"Hi, Biggs." Tifa navigated towards the bar counter, where Biggs was standing on standby. Glancing around the bar, and noting how few tables were busy, she asked, "Quiet night."
"Don't you know it." Biggs leaned against the counter with a sigh, but there was no denying the faint smirk to his lips, or the way the lights danced in his brown eyes. It was obvious how pleased he was with the quiet. It was no secret that out of everyone in Seventh Heaven, Biggs enjoyed working behind the counter the least, with the possible exception of Barret. But that was no surprise. Tifa didn't really know what Barret liked, besides his daughter Marlene and blowing up Shinra reactors, of course.
Tifa took a seat at the bar. "Having fun back there?"
Biggs rolled his eyes. "Alway," he drawled, "but I don't think you came here to talk to me." A smirk brightened his brown eyes. "What can I help you out with? A drink? Food?"
"You know that I always like talking to you, Biggs," Tifa teased, playing along. "But yeah, I actually came to grab some dinner."
"Dinner?" Biggs glanced at her, surprised. "But didn't you go to the market today? The one at Sector 6?"
Does everyone know about that? Tifa wondered with a frown. Who told him - Jessie, maybe? "Yeah, but…" Tifa shrugged, a harsh gesture. "Let's just say that there was some excitement getting back, and I may or may not have dropped all of my groceries."
It was as if a bomb had gone off.
Biggs went deathly still, and suddenly he seemed more statue than man. "Excitement?" he finally repeated, in the same way someone would say, Someone died?
Tifa winced at her poor word choice. In their line of work, excitement typically meant that something terrible had happened, like their cover had been blown or someone had been injured. It definitely did not mean meeting old friends you thought were dead, and dropping your favorite basket in the process of getting him home.
Tifa glanced at her hands, at her scarred knuckles, and suddenly wished that she was wearing her gloves. "No... not that kind of excitement." She offered Biggs a small smile, which he only scowled at. "Actually, everything turned out pretty well. Even though I lost my groceries."
Biggs exhaled, a harsh hiss of breath. "Thank god. You had worried me for a second there. Though sorry about your groceries," he added as an afterthought.
"I'm sorry too," Tifa laughed. "I had been looking forward to them."
"I bet." Biggs shifted his weight to his other foot. "But anyway, that's why you're here. You need some dinner." There was a sudden shift in the conversation and he leaned forward, his hands splayed on the hardwood counter. His lips twitched into a smirk, and he continued in a deeper, huskier voice, "What, exactly, can I get for you this fine evening?"
Tifa could help but laugh, even as she rolled her eyes at him. Though Biggs hated working behind the counter, Tifa secretly thought that he enjoyed playing the role of the aloof, mysterious, suave bartender. He even did it surprisingly well too, not that she would ever tell him that. It would definitely go straight to his head.
"I'm not sure," Tifa replied. Her gaze skimmed the counter behind Biggs, her eyes flicking across the refrigerator, the wine cooler, the oven, before finally resting on the stove. Jerking her chin towards it, and the pot simmering on the burner, she asked, "What are you cooking back there?" She couldn't help but notice the way the steam curled out of it, almost like morning mist… And is that turmeric I smell? she thought, inhaling.
Biggs glanced over his shoulder before turning back to her, grinning. "Garden Curry. My speciality," he added as his grin sharpened. "Made with only the finest of ingredients."
Tifa rolled her eyes at his sexy-bartender tone. Despite being a simple dish, Garden Curry was secretly her favorite in the slums. It was basically potatoes and roasted vegetables seasoned with schier turmeric, a common spice, and it had a distinct earthy, spicy flavor that she couldn't get enough of. "That sounds great," she said honestly. "Can I get two of those? Maybe to-go?"
Biggs glanced at her side-eye even as he reached for plastic containers. "Two?" he repeated. Sexy-bartender tone was gone, replaced by something that Tifa couldn't quite identify.
"Not all of it's for me," Tifa said quickly. "I have a guest -"
She regretted her words the moment they left her mouth. Biggs' eyebrow arched so high, it was almost buried by his red headband and brown hair. A knowing smirk immediately followed. "A guest?"
Tifa scowled at him. "Not like that. He's -"
"Your guest is a he now?"
"He is an old friend of mine," Tifa finished, piercing Biggs with a glare. "A friend."
Biggs only laughed. "Okay, okay! If you say so." He scooped some of the curry into the containers, chuckling to himself. "Yeesh," he continued, but then a smile, soft and nostalgic, curved his lips. When he turned back to her, the teasing had vanished entirely, and in its place was something she couldn't identify. It threw her off-guard. "Old friend, huh?" His voice had a wistful quality to it.
"Yeah..." Tifa leaned her elbows on the counter, unsure what to make of this sudden change in conversation. "That's right."
"You know..." Biggs handed her the two containers, a soft smile dancing on his lips. "I'm glad for you." Tifa lifted her head at the honesty in his voice, surprised, as he continued, "I've been worrying about you, you know. We all have."
Her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, before closing it once again. Out of all the things he could have said, that hadn't been what she had been expecting. "Worried?" she finally echoed. "About me?"
"Yeah." Biggs shot her an apologetic smile. "We can tell you don't really like the bombing idea. Or even any of the stuff before that, actually. You've always seemed a bit… how do I say this..." He ran a hand through his short hair. "Guarded, maybe? Like you were waiting for the ground to fall out from under you."
Tifa dropped her gaze and clutched the curry containers tighter against her, tighter still, until the warmth seared her hands and warmed the front of her crop top. Biggs wasn't wrong. In fact, he was right. So incredibly right, but to have to said so openly, so point blank... it had hit her like a gunshot and had stolen her breath away. She worried her lip. Had I always been so obvious?
"Is your friend staying here long?" Biggs asked, drawing her back into the conversation.
Tifa blinked away the memories she had lost herself in. Blinked, and tried to focus on the warmth that seeped through the thin plastic containers. "Yeah," she said, and managed a smile as recalling Cloud's nod. His promise to stay a while. Her promise to be back in ten minutes. "Yeah, he will be."
"Good." Biggs smiled at her from across the counter. "Maybe you can bring him over tomorrow, and introduce him to everyone."
Suddenly, Tifa could no longer feel the curry's warmth. "But tomorrow's an Avalanche meeting," she pointed out.
"So?" Biggs replaced the lid on the pot. "A friend of yours is a friend of ours. And Avalanche needs all the help it can get," he added.
Tifa felt her heart stutter. This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to come to the Seventh Heaven tonight. All it took was one slip, and suddenly everything was about Avalanche again, about the bombings, about their crazy dream of saving the Planet. And not to mention that introducing everyone to Cloud, and vice-versa, was a terrifying thought. Tifa leaned back on the bar stool, suddenly feeling a bit trapped. What would Cloud think about her joining Avalanche? What would he think of her reasons for joining? Or – and this was the worst of all – what if she ended up dragging him into this chaotic, messed-up world? God, she was going to help them bomb a Shinra mako reactor in two days. People could die.
Tifa bit her lip. Cloud doesn't need to be involved, she decided. He clearly had his own problems on his plate, and she couldn't stand the thought of making it worse. What if he got hurt? What if he died, just like her parents, like everyone else in their hometown?
And yet… and yet…
"Tifa, if you really hate it that much," Biggs said quietly, "you don't have to."
"It's not that," Tifa immediately lied. Lying was coming easier and easier these days, and she suddenly found herself looking at Biggs, smiling at him, forcing herself to nod despite the guilt burning her throat. "I'll think about it," she promised.
She instantly knew that she'd regret it.
Zack laughed as Cloud sat on the ground, scowling as he picked twigs out of hair. "It's not that funny," Cloud practically growled as he threw another stick on the ground. It bounced once before resting beside his leather gloves, which looked as if they had gone through a blender. The rest of his infantry uniform hadn't faired much better. The blue fabric was stained green with grass and leaves, and while his knee guards had provided some protection, his elbows hadn't been so lucky. The cloth had torn, and the skin behind it was scraped and bruised. Cloud's scowl deepened as he twisted his arm to inspect the wound. Behind him was the source of his misery; a motorcycle, the engine long dead, the hull crashed against a tree.
"Come'on, Spikey," Zack said, clapping a hand on Cloud's back. "It was a little funny."
Cloud glowered at him. "No it wasn't," he snapped, which only made Zack's grin broaden. Readjusting his knee guards, Cloud muttered under his breath, "I could have died, you know."
Zack laughed at how melodramatic Cloud could be. "No way you would have," he said, and jerked his head towards the bike… and the divot leading up to it. "It was just a little fall."
Cloud's jaw dropped. "I totaled the bike!"
"No you did not," Zack drawled. Though, truth be told, it had been an impressive fall. Zack wasn't sure how Cloud had even managed it, but one moment Cloud's expression shifted from joy to horror, and then the next thing Zack knew, Cloud had hit the ground and the motorcycle had ended up against the tree. It had happened so quickly that it was almost impressive. "Listen," Zack continued, "the paint may be a little scuffed, and there may be a little dent, but who cares? It was an old bike."
"It's broken!"
"Nah, it's not broken. We'll just roll it back to the garage, dust it off, and it'll be like it never happened." Both of them knew that it was a blatant lie. It would take much more than a quick dusting to make the bike look decent, but then again, it was a Shinra infantry bike. At least one of those broke a week. "Really," Zack said, patting Cloud's back, "it's not a big deal."
When he had asked Cloud earlier in the day if he had wanted to use the spare bikes to go to town – they had a rare reprieve from their current mission, and it could not be wasted under any circumstances – Cloud had surprised him by saying that he couldn't go, because he didn't know how to drive. That no one had ever taught him. And he had sounded so sad while saying it, so mortified and embarrassed, that Zack had offered to teach him right then and there.
As it turned out, teaching Cloud how to drive a motorcycle was far more exciting than anything happening back in town. Zack tried and failed to suppress a smirk, which had Cloud's scowl deepening. Who would have thought?
"Zack, be honest with me," Cloud suddenly said. The tension in Cloud's voice snapped Zack out of his thoughts, and he then noticed that Cloud was staring at the crashed motorcycle, his blue eyes wide and worried. The scowl was gone. So was his mock outrage, and without turning, Cloud murmured, "How screwed am I, really?"
Zack blinked in surprise. "What?"
"What do you mean, what? I crashed a motorcycle! I broke it!" With that Cloud turned to him, his blue eyes big and bright beneath the midday sun, and Zack was once again thrown off by how sensitive Cloud could be. That despite Cloud's dry sense of humor, and the occasionally morbidly dark quips that had Zack snickering in meetings, Cloud wasn't nearly as aloof and untouchable as he wanted others to think. That underneath it all, he was really just a kid.
Hell, they were all just kids.
"They're going to kick me out, aren't they?" Cloud continued, biting his lip. The way he said it, it was as if it were the worst thing in the world. Worse than dying even, but for Cloud, Zack got the sense that that was partially true. Cloud always had strange priorities.
Zack reached forward to ruffle Cloud's hair, and was immediately concerned when Cloud didn't push his hand away. "They're not going to kick you out," he promised. "Don't worry about a thing. We'll be just fine."
"Well of course you'll be fine," Cloud stated matter-of-factly. "You're in SOLDIER." He tried to smile at Zack, but it didn't reach his eyes and something shifted in his expression, shifted into something a little darker, and he dropped his gaze. Zack frowned. He knew that look, and knew that it meant that Cloud was about to say some self-deprecating nonsense. "I'm just in the infantry," Cloud continued, and he shrugged, sad and small. "They don't exactly give a shit about me."
"Aw Spikey, don't say that." Zack ruffled Cloud's hair again, but like before, Cloud didn't react. "I give a shit about you. Us country boys have to stick together," he teased. But when Cloud didn't return his grin, or didn't even offer a dry comment about being a backwater country boy, Zack switched tactics. "How about this?" he said. "I'll take the hit for this one, and you won't have to worry about it. Will that make you feel better?"
Cloud's head jerked up, the alarm plain in his eyes. "What? No Zack, you can't." He shook his head, horrified. "You can't do that. You'll get in trouble."
"Nah, Angeal won't care. Believe me, he has too much on his plate to care about one stupid bike," Zack stated. It was another blatant lie, but Cloud didn't need to know that. Angeal would never pass up on an opportunity to remind Zack about honor and responsibility. In fact, Zack thought he could hear Angeal's speech right now. "It'll be fine," Zack grinned, trying to think of something else besides his oncoming lecture. "I swear it."
Cloud only shrugged. And he looked so pitiful, sitting on the ground all dusty and scraped up and bruised, that Zack's expression softened. "Don't worry, Spikey," he continued, and went to ruffle Cloud's hair again – but this time, Cloud scowled at him and batted his hand away. Zack immediately grinned - it looked like Spikey's going to be okay. "Like I said, don't you worry your pretty chocobo head," Zack said. "I'll protect you."
I'll protect you.
Zack's dark eyelashes fluttered open and he inhaled a harsh, ragged breath. His dream was already fading away, and with it, the warmth of the sun against his skin. The crisp mountain air whispering through the field. Cloud looking up at him, dirt on his cheeks and his blue eyes reflecting the sky above them, his expression torn between worry and relief.
Cloud's gone.
The realization hit Zack like a blow to the gut. His chest ached; his throat squeezed tight, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. He sat upright, his bandages tightening, and the covers pooled at his waist. Cloud's gone, his mind repeated. And he had no idea where Cloud was, or if he was okay, or if he was afraid and hurting. Zack'smhands balled on the sheets. What if Cloud's scared, or… Horror twisted his stomach, twisted like a knife, and Zack leaned forward to rest on trembling arms. Or what if Hojo found him again? What if -
He shook his head, a violent gesture. No, he told himself. No what-ifs. Don't think like that. He opened his eyes. Aerith said that Cloud was just visiting a friend. And if Zack trusted anyone, he trusted Aerith... even if he wasn't sure what she meant, exactly. Cloud didn't exactly have many friends.
In fact, Zack thought, pinching the bridge of his nose, I may be Cloud's only friend right now. Even back in the infantry, Cloud had maybe three other friends besides Zack. Cloud probably had some more friends back in Nibelheim, his hometown, but… well, Zack was pretty certain they were all dead after the town burned to the ground. Dead and buried. Zack's eyes glazed; sometimes, he thought could still smell the smoke in the air. Could still hear the screams as people burned alive, and Sephiroth...
Zack grit his teeth against the unwelcome memory and forced himself to sit upright. Forced himself to get out of bed. He needed to focus on the future, and he obviously wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight. Might as well be productive. Maybe even get some training in, like squats or something, before he met with Tseng in the morning.
And then I'll go with Reno and Rude to find Cloud, Zack recalled, remembering his and Tseng's earlier conversation. He stood upright as pinned his gaze on the bed beside his. The empty, cold, hospital bed. And then I'll find Cloud, he swore as he crouched into the first of many squats. His blue gaze was bright and hard. I swear it.
So I thought changing the update schedule would allow me to write multiple chapters per week, and therefore make my life easier, but what actually happened is that I stressed over this chapter for the entire seven days before uploading. RIP.
But anyway, this chapter lays down the groundwork for the next chapter, so my apologizes if it was a little on the slow side. There's just so much to cover before we reach the FF7 gameplay. If you're curious, my goals are to solidify Cloud's new persona, flesh out his and Tifa's relationship, explore Zack's goals and how he deals with trauma, and also get to know Zack and Aerith's relationship before the craziness of FF7. In other words, I want a solid foundation to build the rest of FF7 on. We're almost there, I promise.
Anyway, I had initially written Zack's POV so that he dreamed of Hojo's lab and all of the horror that went along with it. But then it occurred to me that we're going to hit that whole thing hard later in the game (remember that they literally go through Hojo's lab in canon, which will be an absolute clusterfuck to write btw), so I decided to go for something a little happier. Plus, I thought it was sweet if Zack had taught Cloud how to drive :) The canon story never really got into that, besides that "it was standard training" or whatever, but I felt that we could do a little better than that.
Next chapter, Cloud is introduced to the rest of Avalanche while Zack begins the hunt for his best friend.
Chapter 9 will update on June 5th. Stay well, and see you then :)
