"The application of basic physical concepts to biological systems. Topics include forces and motion, energy and metabolism, thermodynamics, and fluid dynamics."
[ : The Curriculum : ]
Chapter 3 | Physics
The first spears of sunlight were charging over the horizon as Cloud ushered Denzel, Wymer, Andrea and Marlene onto the dew-sparkling grass of the campus backyard. Winter semester's premiere week was concluding, the weather hot but bearably so, and already, during double-period the previous day, five students had broken his three-strikes rule; tossing incessant catty remarks and pointed insults that, admittedly, had their teacher chortling as much as they pissed him off.
Regardless of wit, rules were rules and this one he was especially proud of.
Whenever it had been Cloud's turn to watch the Friday detention group, he was irked by how bored the students looked, simply sitting at a desk waiting out the clock, the only real consequence to their actions being their asses falling asleep. Thus, when those in his class crossed the line, he preferred to conscript aid procuring materials. That could mean either accompanying him to the junkyard to haul scraps, dumpster diving for bits and bobs left over from the other labs or - as was the case today - chopping timber for the Sophomore's introduction to woodworking.
Two birds with one axe.
"Pick up the pace, people!" He called as they jogged through the trees towards his 'office' woodshed.
"I am not wearing appropriate shoes, Mr. Strife," griped Andrea from the back of the pack in his suave foreign accent, attempting to keep up on his tiptoes. "These are custom, patent-leather loafers!"
"Not my problem, Rhodea. Should have thought of that before calling Septina a-" He struggled to remember the exact jibe.
"That if she were any more inbred, she'd be a sandwich."
Hearing the quip for the first time, Denzel snorted so hard he nearly choked.
"Yes. That. That was bad and thus here you are. Moving on!"
"Why isn't Shinra gracing us with his presence?" Wymer complained, the slightly heftier kid already huffing from exertion. "He was the bitchiest one of us all."
On that point, Cloud would not argue. Rupert Shinra, as always, liked to toss pebbles into otherwise perfect machines. As the kid was one of the few who lived off campus, in a private estate supposedly of similar size to this very school but on the opposite side of Sector 4, he was exempt from such extracurriculars since the commute would have had him out of bed during what was technically the middle of the night.
"Shinra will be getting his own, unique detention." Cloud assured them, already daydreaming about that old motorbike husk he wanted dismantled and every piece, down to the screws, scrubbed of oil residue.
Just desserts would be served. Hot and greasy.
"Whoa. Hold up." Three-quarters of the way out, Denzel skidded to a stop and grabbed the back of Wymer's vest to force him to join, holding a hand up to his forehead to shield against the sun as he stared out onto the central sports field. With half the group immobilized, Cloud had no choice but to fall back.
"Guys. What's going-"
Then he heard them. The girl's senior field hockey team happened to have dawn practice that day. Their coach had likely chosen this unpopular slot for privacy since, as was league standard and due to the unseasonable heat, their uniform was but a green pinnie and very, very short black kilt. The result was more bare limbs than Denzel and Wymer had probably ever seen live and they reacted exactly how one would expect suppressed teenage boys to react. They were practically catatonic.
Cloud groaned. What shitty timing.
"Seriously?" Marlene, who had been far ahead of everyone, jogged back to see what all the fuss was about. "I'm missing coffee and cartoons with my dad to watch the testosterone-twins drool?"
"Suppose I'm not the only one concerned with slipping on hardwood today, hmm?" Andrea drawled with a salacious smirk, tapping the heels of his fancy loafers.
"Pretending I didn't hear that." Sidestepping the two functional teens, Cloud confronted Denzel and Wymer whose mouths were blatantly hanging open, gawking at the field as though it were the Promised Land. "Hey. Neanderthals." He snapped a finger in front of their faces to break the spell. "Eyes over here. We have a job to do."
"Sorry, Mr. Strife." They both sputtered.
One would think that would be the end of it, but as they made their way deeper into the woods, the two starstruck boys kept peeking over their shoulders. More than once, Denzel tripped over a root and full-on face-planted in the dirt. Cloud winced to think what may happen once either of them had an actual tool in hand.
"Okay my delinquents, listen up! I need boards and you need to be punished, thus here we are. You know I pride myself on efficiency."
As he reviewed the species they'd encounter and various other tips and tricks, Wymer and Denzel kept trying (and failing) to subtly glance behind them, Andrea was picking at his polished nails and Marlene, the only one paying attention, seemed to become increasingly distrubed. At the end of his lecture, her hand shot up like she was trying to catch a bullet.
"Mr. Strife, are you seriously insisting that we kill a tree?" she asked, voice wavering. "Isn't this whole campus, like, endangered?"
"I'm asking you to gather wood, Marlene. Wood is renewable, unlike other materials, as long as we don't over indulge. Check this out." He gestured to the north side of the shed and they all made their way around the corner to find over twenty saplings planted in neat little rows. Marlene gasped and ran over to them, gushing as if there were actual babies. "We use one, we plant two. That's how we survive as a species. So go find me a suitable candidate, not too old, not too young, not too hard, not to soft-"
"That's what he sai-"
"Knock it off, Andrea. Call me over if anyone finds something suitable and we'll fell it together. Andrea, Marlene: search anywhere. Wymer, Denzel: head north."
Both their faces dropped in disappointment. North was the opposite direction of the field hockey players. "Why do we have to-"
"Because it's too much paperwork to send you home without all ten fingers attached." He handed them both axes, blades down, handle up. "Trust me, it's for your own good. Now go."
After they scattered, Cloud took a moment to check-up on his other wards; the trees. As he caressed the leaves and ensured there were no signs of rot or pests, just like Aerith had taught him, he thought of Ruvie Tuesti missing the first week of school, making it official that she had no plans to return as it would be impossible to catch up. Ruvie was the one who had helped him acquire the saplings, live plants being rare and impossibly expensive around Midgar.
Tightening a burgundy and gold striped ribbon, the Tuesti colors, which held the stick-like trunks to a bracing pole, he wondered yet again if she really was 'knocked-up' like Cid Highwind hypothesized. Then the notion was dropped like a rotten potato.
It was none of his business.
Only here, surrounded by nature just beginning to blossom, could he admit that he, perhaps, missed the kid. The group's balance was off without her calming, determined presence wrangling them into line, inspiring everyone to focus and learn. Marlene was definitely more snippy and Denzel fumbled whatever tool he was in the midst of using whenever her name was mentioned.
Whatever personal reasons were dire enough for her to be pulled out of school in the middle of the Junior year, it sucked. It completely and totally sucked.
"Found a good walnut!" he heard Denzel yell from somewhere deeper in the trees.
"On my way!" Cloud called back, sweeping the area for the saw he usually kept lodged in a chopping block.
He was still searching for it when his gaze happened to wander above the tree-line to the back of the school building. All that was visible from this vantage point were the temple turrets and one central terrace he knew led to the Headmistress' office. Throughout Heidegger's tenure, Cloud had never concerned himself with being watched as the man wasn't exactly the type to appreciate fresh air and nature. He should have figured that Tifa, a fellow born-and-raised country girl, would have different inclinations.
Though the sky was still shaded in burnt oranges and pinks, there she was, one leg up on the wrought iron handrail as she stretched, wearing fitted violet yoga clothes including shorts so small and tight that no single crease was left to the imagination.
Cloud couldn't help it. His eyes got stuck and would not, for the life of him, move.
It proved necessary to amend the declaration he had made earlier in the week, after seeing her in layers of silk and polyester. The heart shape of her face may not have changed much, but the body up on that terrace was not the same one he had explored in Nibelheim. That girl, though tantalizing when they were both teens, had been on the mere cusp of true womanhood: her hips had been slim, chest shapely but humble, muscles toned from various sporting endeavors but not defined. Not like this.
Present day Tifa may as well have been carved from marble. Even from a distance, he could see the bulge of her triceps and deltoids as she linked hands behind her back and pushed her chest out. The eastern light brought the ridges of her abdominals into sharp relief and her breasts...Holy. Even tempered by a sports bra, their profile was richly convex. Appreciating the unadulterated power and femininity of her shape, his heartbeat automatically swung on an uptick, tongue tasting of dust and sparks, fists clenched in frustration that they were empty. He was about to rip his gaze away, vowing to be more respectful and less weird, when Tifa folded over so that the crown of her head touched her toes. When those evil shorts rode up even higher, he swore every drop of hot, rebellious blood in his body started clambering down toward-
"Son of a-!"
Cloud found himself wrestling the embrace of a prickly young pine that he had walked straight into the arms of. Only his glasses saved him from being blinded.
Fortunately, a handful of sharp needles to the face proved to be just as effective as a cold shower.
"Heyyyyyy! Mr. Strifeeeee?" Denzel bellowed in a sing-song from a few paces away as Cloud mussed bits of bark out of his hair. "Eyes over here, ehhhhhh?!"
Disqualifying one preposterous excuse after another, Cloud merely frowned while Denzel and Wymer dissolved into chuckles.
Touché, fellow Neanderthals.
Touché.
"I swear, it's like herding a bunch of horny cats!" Zack muttered while grabbing two bowls of rice pudding from the dessert case, dropping one on his tray, the other on Cloud's.
Apparently, his friend had an equally difficult morning getting through a classic love scene with his English Lit. Junior class, who kept giggling and making lewd double entendres the entire time. The current theory was that the lawn has been sprayed with aphrodisiac instead of pesticide over the break.
"They're teenagers," Cloud excused quietly, eyeing a nearby table of arm-wrestling freshmen before reaching for a second pudding bowl to complement his potatoes and toast. "Isn't that how they always are?"
"Sure but...it's Act III of Loveless, man! That first scene is, like, the reason I do what I do. Wish they'd get their shit together and let its romantic brilliance marinate a little between wisecracks. That's all."
"Yeah. I get it." Sliding over to the cash, they scanned their staff IDs prior to heading up the staircase to the staffroom which overlooked the long, gleaming steel tables occupied by students. "I'm teaching the Sophomores basic carpentry during double-period this afternoon. Got ten detention slips already pre-labeled with 'made one too many wood jokes'."
There was no need to expand on how rife with opportunities the subject was and yet, for unknown reasons, Zack felt the need to try.
"Hard wood. Soft wood. Drill. Grind. Butt joint. Hmm. I do not envy you, friend. Try not to roll your eyes so hard they fall out of your face. Ooo, and let's not forget the elusive dove-tail joint."
"Dove-tail joint?" Having pushed open the door with his shoulder, Cloud held it for Zack to shimmy through with his much more overladen tray. "How is that dirty?"
"Dove?" He made a bobbing motion with his neck. "Tail? Joint? You know what I mean."
"I really don't."
"But you can imagine…"
"Nope. Have no desire to even try."
"Well excuuuuuse me for attempting to expand your horizons."
Cloud pressed his lips together, unwilling to be pulled into that argument and possibly wrangled into another humiliating date.
Weaving through the other staff members, they soon found Aerith munching on a chicken salad at Cloud's favorite, shadowed, corner table with the wonky leg. Seemed like the medic had decided to humor him at last, even though she had to shove a paperback novel under the shortest foot to keep her food from sliding to the floor. Cloud felt a mere pulse of affection for her efforts.
The stage was set to become the same, boring lunch period as always. Except for one, excessively loud difference.
"Heya Strife!"
Yuffie Kisaragi, the Headmistress' assistant, was sitting in his spot.
"What are you doing here?" he spat a lot more gruffly than intended. Thankfully, Yuffie was immune and stuck out her tongue.
"Now now, can ya blame me for escaping? I used to eat at my desk so that I could catch up on my Wutain soaps but, nowadays, the boss keeps requesting a 'quick favor' every two minutes. I can hardly get two bites in my mouth let alone find out if Miyaka accidentally married her fiancé's twin!"
"Sounds rough," Zack sympathized after sliding into the seat beside Aerith. "Not the twin thing, the other thing. I guess this crazy curriculum revamp she's pushing for has everyone running around like chocobos with their heads cut off."
"Mm-hmm," Aerith agreed, poking listlessly at her food. "She even asked me to draft a board proposal for updating some of the med bay standards. Not that I don't believe certain parts can't be improved after a hundred years, it's just...the temple teachings insist…"
"Hey." Sensing her discomfort, Zack dared to reach over and squeeze her hand. "If it bugs you, maybe talk to Mireille about it after tomorrow's service, hmm?"
"Yes. You're right. She'll know what to do." Bright smile screwed back in place, Aerith looked up at Cloud who was still standing by, awkwardly clenching his tray. "You know Cloud, since the school's service with Domino doesn't appeal to you, you're always welcome to join my temple down in the Sector 5 slums? I promise, Primaress Mireille isn't at all like-"
"Not interested," he interrupted brusquely.
"Oh. Okay then. N-Never mind."
Glaring, Zack kicked out the last remaining chair; the one with its back to the room, even though he knew Cloud hated not being able to survey his environment. Something in the guy's eyes though, vivid blue like the center of a candle flame, prompted Cloud to get over it and get over it fast. Few things truly pissed Zack off, but someone snapping at the woman he loved - especially when she was just being her kind, generous self - was definitely one of them.
"Sorry," Cloud muttered, accepting the offered seat. His tone was genuine enough that Zack expelled his fury in one deep breath before turning towards the new member of their posse.
"So. Despite the lunch time lack-of-drama, how's working for the youngest, first female Headmistress this school has ever known?"
As if she had it stored inside her for hours if not days, Yuffie let out the longest, loudest of groans.
"Haaaaaard! Unlike Heidegger, the pure-bred peacock, Lockhart actually does things." She stabbed at her shepherd's pie between sentences, as if it were to blame. "Honestly, I get exhausted just glancing at her schedule and to-do lists. On top of the infamous curriculum and budget updates, she humors paranoid parents, debates with board members, organizes bake sales and dances and cafeteria menus, yells at maintenance at least once an hour to finally get those damn air conditioners fixed. And she does it all wearing heels."
"Wow. You make her sound like a superhero," Zack said with legitimate astonishment, side-eyeing Cloud. "Quite the impressive woman."
"Yeah, well, the jury's out on the 'woman' thing. I don't think she sleeps." Shaking her head, Yuffie glanced towards the doors as if legitimately worried the Headmistress would traipse through and drag her back to the office by the hair. "Did I mention she also runs five kilometers and does yoga every morning at dawn? Seriously, how?! Why?! There's being an overachiever and then there's being a freakin cyborg."
"She's always been like that," Cloud added, mindlessly stirring his pudding. "Since we were kids."
Too late, he realized what he had inadvertently confessed. Glancing up, all eyes were fixed on him, Aerith and Yuffie's wide with shock while Zack - goddamn Zack - leaned back in his chair with hands cradling his head, vibrating with suppressed laughter.
"How would you know?" The assistant inquired with a cocked eyebrow.
Re-focusing on his food, Cloud hoped the question would dissolve like a passing storm upon them sensing his reluctance. In any other cluster of people, it probably would have. Zack, however, was clearly still a smidge pissed and Yuffie never let anything go, picking scabs to the point of scarring.
"They are from the same small town and went to school together," Zack explained to get the ball rolling, ignoring his friend's death glare. If this was to be payback, then it was mighty fucking petty.
Yuffie gasped in delight. "Really!?"
"She was a year below and we weren't close or anything," Cloud was quick to explain, praying that would be the end of it. Alas...
"Oh, please tell me something juicy! I know all about the academic prizes, the clubs, the martial arts trophies, valedictorian, etc.. But only you can validate if she's ever done anything human and stupid like eat glue or drunkenly fall out a window."
At a loss of how to respond, paralyzed by social tension, Cloud could only stare into the abyss of mashed potatoes and pray to drown in it. Aerith, Goddess bless her, attempted to come to his rescue.
"You're barking up the wrong tree, Yuffie," she insisted with an approving grin. "Cloud doesn't believe in gossip."
"What's there to believe in? It's the unearthing of facts, not the Solstice Goblin!" Shuffling her chair closer, Yuffie shoved her gargantuan ego into Cloud's bubble, making him feel like a hen cornered by a yappy fox. "At least tell me who she dated in highschool. Girl like that certainly had her pick and I need to know her inclinations. Overly buff or lean or fluffy? Brunettes, redheads or blondes? Quiet nerds who spin poetry or sex-in-slacks jocks who can't read but can rock your world?"
Goddess almighty.
With his eyes, Cloud tried to solicit help from Zack, but the guy was still chuckling, perfectly at ease watching him squirm like a worm on a hook.
Yuffie was losing patience. "If you don't tell me, I'm just gonna dig up your yearbooks. Those things are all digitized nowadays for archival purposes, so unless you want me checking out your highschool stats, you may as well-"
The girl missed her calling as a goddamn spy. Cloud fell like a house of cards faced with a leafblower.
"She had been seeing a guy in my class. Summer Solstice Festival King and Queen two years running. Sporty. Popular." Mentally flipping through the yearbook, he tried to say no more than would be obvious, as Tifa's face often saturated the special event pages. "It ended some point around the time I left for college, and I haven't seen or spoken to her since. The end."
Unsatisfied, the ruthless assistant made one final lunge. "If they were such a hotshot couple in a small town, even you must have heard what happened? Did someone cheat? Ooo, did she cheat?"
Cloud closed his eyes and took a deep breath to remain calm.
"You have your info, Yuffie." Aerith interjected, sensing him nearing the breaking point. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, leave him be."
"But none of this helps at all! What did-"
Abandoning his tray, Cloud stood and marched toward to exit without a word.
Certain facts, much like the Solstice Goblin, should stay dead and buried.
Yuffie's interrogation nagged him well into the next morning.
It was barely seven on Saturday and his phone kept buzzing, most likely with Zack's apologetic offers to join Aerith's Sector 5 temple service or at least hitch a ride into the city. Nevertheless, he didn't think he could handle even his mother in his current state.
He felt too restless. Too angry. Too much energy to expel, no thanks to the vial he had emptied the night before.
He waited, wearing a hole in the carpet of his studio unit as he paced, until the bells summoning faculty and students to the temple rang out. Only then did he dare to dress, pulling on the usual blue button down since they were the only shirts he owned, but forgoing the unnecessary glasses, slacks and tie for a pair of jeans instead. Shoving a piece of toast down his throat, he headed to the woodshed for some much needed distraction. Even with the detention group's assistance, they had only had enough time to cleave half the walnut tree into logs. Plus, he had been told that staying active was important.
Arriving at the clearing sometime around ten am, hearing the choir chants from the temple wafting over the field like the stench from a bog, Cloud got to work. He had sawed off a mere single section when his shirt started sticking, no thanks to the sun beating upon his back.
Aiming to avoid laundry for at least one more day, he didn't think twice about unbuttoning and stripping it off, hanging it on one of the nails hammered into the tin siding. The day was as sweltering as usual and promised to only get worse the closer it got to noon.
After sawing the remaining half tree into quarters, he dragged the logs over to the chopping block to prepare for splitting. Dripping with sweat while sharpening the axe, he was proud to note that he wasn't at all tired yet. Oddly, he felt more energetic than ever, itching for the adrenaline rush of singing steel, twitching muscles and a job well done.
So went another hour, until the sun was at its highest and most threatening point in the sky.
Swing, crack, toss, next. Swing, crack, toss, next.
Before he knew it, he had run out of logs just as the temple bells rang out to announce the end of service. Perfect timing, as most students and staff claimed post-temple Saturday afternoons for pleasures beyond the campus gates, and Cloud knew he'd have the place practically to himself with no one to judge his perhaps strange little habits. Maybe he'd even get out to the nearby junkyard and exhume new parts for both his own project and the advanced students'.
Breathing heavily, Cloud returned to the woodshed to hang up the axe and smirked at the piles of what appeared to be scrap metal spread out over the floor like autumn leaves. It was almost enough.
He could hardly wait.
After filling his water bottle from the sink and grabbing a clean rag, Cloud wandered over to the saplings' side and poured half over the back of his head, allowing the excess dribbling down his arms to be absorbed by the earth; a poor man's shower to deal with the worst of the stickiness before replacing his shirt.
He had just started rubbing the rag over his neck, massaging out a few kinks, when he happened to glance up toward the school.
Tifa was on her terrace again, this time with a steaming mug of tea. She wore a fitted grey pencil skirt and white blouse buttoned up all the way to the throat where her gold halo was pinned, hair in a knot at the base of her head, presumably fresh out of temple service. It was the same chic yet modest monochrome he had glimpsed her wearing all week, having nixed mini-skirts or anything that had a chance of accidentally revealing a bra strap, red or any other color. If he hadn't been, perhaps unconsciously, looking out for her, she would have been camouflaged against the backdrop of the building's stone. Especially because she appeared to be frozen, as still as any gargoyle, barely blinking as she stared at his modest little woodshed clearing. Or, more specifically, stared at him standing in said little clearing.
Cloud swallowed thickly. Then, unsure of what else to do, he waved the white cloth above his head in awkward acknowledgement.
Tifa jumped, yanked out of her trance with such force that the tea sloshed out of her mug, all over her hand and front of her blouse. Swearing loudly enough that it echoed across the field, she pulled the stained, burning material away from her chest and hastily scampered back to her office.
Alone again, Cloud could not restrain the crooked grin tugging at his lips even while hoping she hadn't hurt herself too badly. He supposed his body too had changed over the years, especially thanks to months of swinging the axe and those long jogs to the junkyard, dragging a hundred pounds of metal back to campus several times a week. One could only imagine her surprise in comparison to the lanky teenage frame she had once been familiar with.
It all served to prove that regardless of age or income or living situation, in many ways the two of them - nay, everyone - would always be the same stupid kids.
**Author's Note**: I would like to dedicate this chapter to Perlmuttt who made such a glorious fanart of this story that it encouraged me to post chapter three ASAP. The slow roast continues, but I hope the mysteries are still as intriguing. As always, I am forever appreciative of readers' constructive criticism, concerns or screams of frustration in comment/review form. Many thanks for reading! Also happy to chat on Twitter AmeMayonaka.