Unspoken

By mihoyonagi

Chapter 8: Curiosity

Sephiroth, elbow deep in dirty dishwater, scrubbed relentlessly the leftover hardened frosting of the piece of cake he had only just enjoyed from the fine china plate. It wasn't the best thing he had ever consumed, but considering he had never before tasted cake, he couldn't deny his new hunger for it. He officially understood why the bakery in town was always so populated; anything fresh tasted wonderful.

Care of the baker, Aerith had learned how to make fresh bread and cake only the day before. The elderly man had taken a liking to her, and was pleased when they walked into the store the previous day; he had been one of the people to help both the general and the flower girl to the hospital and was, therefore, very worried. While browsing through the store, she had stopped and peered over the counter as the baker started a new loaf, and was thoroughly transfixed. When the elderly man asked her if she could make anything, she laughed nervously and responded with, "only simple meals." The baker had smiled kindly at her, and then disappeared into the back. When he returned, he rewarded Aerith's honesty with a small stack of recipe cards. Not wanting to impose, Aerith at first turned the generous offer down. But, the baker persisted, and Sephiroth noted that the girl simply couldn't say no to kindness, no matter how she tried.

She was wonderful at handing kindness out by the truckload, but taking it was another story, or so Sephiroth had noted since in her company. It was - really- rather amusing.

Sephiroth pulled the plug inside the kitchen sink and let the water swirl down into the dark depths of the drain. He pulled the bright yellow rubber gloves from his hands and placed them under the sink, next to the dish soap and various other cleaning supplies. Sighing, the general pulled a dishtowel from the nearby drawer and began drying his and Aerith's plates. Placing them back in the cupboard, Sephiroth leaned against the countertop and crossed his arms.

Chores bored him, but doing something was better than nothing. Making his way toward the bookshelf, Sephiroth eye's followed the rows, right to left, the left to right, in search of a book. He didn't know what it was he was looking for, but he looked, regardless. A small glint caught his eye. Sephiroth turned his head to one side to better read the binding. The book's title was too worn to read, but what was left of the letters that had once formed words sparkled.

Pulling the book from the shelf, Sephiroth blew away the thin later of dust that had compiled atop its closed pages. The cover was worn, and he could no more read it than he could read what was on its binding. It was old, no doubt, but it was well held together, despite the passage of time and obvious abuse.

Tentatively, Sephiroth traced the outline of what words had once rested on the cover with his finger. The book wasn't bound in paper, but instead monster skin; thus the reason it had remained intact.

An old book with a worn title, bound in thick, resistant monster skin.

He was officially curious.

His curiosity, however, was momentarily averted to the scream that was admitted from outside. Not bothering to place the book back on the shelf, Sephiroth ran to the front door, grabbing Masamune from its resting place next to the door.

What was outside, however, was far from what he had expected. Aerith sat upon her knees in front of him, her back facing the general, arms crossed in a huff. Sephiroth's eyes fell to what he assumed to be her problem; a large, dead bramble bush in the middle of the side of the yard stood tall and unyielding to the small flower girl. She let out an exasperated sigh, and then fell on all fours, placing her hands on the stem of the bush. She leaned back and pulled with all her might, but the bush remained just as unyielding as ever.

Suddenly, her grip came loose and she fell, right out of her gardening gloves, and onto her back. Her eyes made contact with the tall man that stood above her. Sephiroth tilted his head ever so slightly. Aerith's face grew red as she scrambled to stand up. Still, Sephiroth watched her as she brushed off the excess dirt from her body.

She didn't bother to try to cover up anything with a false story; she came outright and told Sephiroth what she had been doing, despite his lack of question.

"I want to make a flower garden here, since you use the space in the back for your training."

Sephiroth tilted his head as he moved to inspect the bramble bush.

"But I can't have a garden surrounding something dead, and full of thorns. I can't pull it out, either; it's too big."

Kneeling to further examine the intruding bush, Sephiroth placed a hand to his chin in thought. Standing, he held out the book in his hand for Aerith to take. She peered up at him with a questioning gaze, but he waved the book in front of her and she took it at long last. Further moving his hand in front of her, he lightly pushed her backwards a few paces.

Still, she stared at him with bewilderment, book safely in hand. Sephiroth moved in front of the bush and exhaled softly. Slowly drawing breath, he pulled his sword from its scabbard. He heard Aerith gasp behind him as Masamune glistened in the early afternoon sunlight, completely bare. With a motion of his body that made it look as if he was made from some viscous liquid, Sephiroth cut the stem of the thorny plant. For a few seconds, everything was still; not even the birds in the trees twittered as they usually did. Then, a creaking grown was admitted from the plant as it fell to the ground.

Again, Aerith gasped. Sephiroth sheathed his sword and turned to her, outstretching his hand so as to take the book from her.

For a moment, she simply gazed deeply into his eyes. Then, she handed him his book and bowed her head. "Thank you very much." What, really, was there left to say?

He nodded, though he knew her head to be down too far for her to see such an action. Taking back his book, he slowly walked back into the house. Sephiroth, not knowing what else to do, made his way upstairs and to his room. He closed the door behind him, tossing the book to the bed. Peering out the window, Sephiroth watched as Aerith, gardening gloves adorning her tiny hands, pulled the thorny bush to the edge of the woods and out of her way. Then, spade in hand, she began to dig a border for her garden. The general leaned against the window frame, intently watching the small woman outside.

How strange it was to him that another being could put so much effort into something so meaningless. What good were flowers? Flowers could not be eaten, flowers did not provide shelter from the sun; they were completely without significance, unless she planned to use them for decoration.

But what was the point of that? There was a florist in town, just two shops down from the bakery. Just as well, visitors never came anywhere near their cabin.

Was it, perhaps, just something for her to do? Sephiroth contemplated such a notion. It did, after all, make sense. What else was there to do?

Sephiroth's brow furrowed. Perhaps she wanted to stay permanently in the house. He further contemplated such a notion, but found it rather difficult to comprehend. The past few weeks had been the longest he had ever stayed in one place. It was fine, for the time being, but staying in the cabin for the rest of his days did not seem very appealing.

Aerith stood below him and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She had already arranged piles of dirt into organized rows and had removed all off the unwanted weeds. Sephiroth continued to watch her as she pulled of her gloves and placed them on the stump upon which the bush had once stood.

"Sephiroth, I'm going into town for a bit!" She hollered into the open door. He heard her loud and clear, but he stayed glued to the spot, watching the top of her head through the window. "I'll be back in about an hour!"

He tilted his head as he watched her go. How strange that she didn't invite him. It would be the first time she ventured into town without his company. For a second, Sephiroth felt uneasy. But his anxiety was soon washed away as his mind drifted to the town she was about to travel into; everyone in the settlement knew them, and everyone, it seemed, went out of their way to make the flower girl happy.

Sephiroth averted his attention to the book on his bed. It seemed out of place on the neat, tight sheets of the bed, and the general looked at the strange book with the same curiosity as he had regarded Aerith's actions before. Making his way to the bed, he sat down. He picked up the book and ran his fingers over the cover like he had earlier. Yes, it was definitely monster skin. Of what kind, he couldn't be sure; the book could have been made anywhere in the world before it decided to settle upon the bookshelf in the cabin of the kind doctor.

A very strange sensation ran through Sephiroth. Should he open it? It was a book, after all, and therefore meant to be read. But other questions tugged at Sephiroth's mind, and he found his curiosity of the book, rather than what the book was about, rise. How old was the book? Who had it belonged to before the doctor? What kind of monster skin bound it? Sephiroth could feel a slight smile tugging at his lips, something that had never before happened so genuinely or easily.

He was truly curious, over a simple book.

Well, it didn't matter what the book was about; Sephiroth crossed his legs and prepared to open it. For some strange reason, his heart sped up. Was the book full of secrets, like where the best treasure could be found? Or could it be all about monsters, where to find them, how much gil they carry, or what items they often take from travelers? Was it someone's diary?

The last thought thrilled him for some unknown reason. Knowing about the past, even if not his own, was something that Sephiroth enjoyed. It was more combat related than one might think, however. Mistakes were something Sephiroth did not enjoy making. His biggest mistake had been underestimating his opponent, a mistake that had lead to his ultimate demise. If it was a diary, he could read up on the person's mistakes and be sure that he himself would never commit them.

Almost too eagerly, Sephiroth flipped open the cover. The page was blank. He flipped to the next page. It, too, was empty. Another page. Nothing. Another. Nothing. Another. The entire book was blank.

A wave of disappointment washed through Sephiroth's veins. He glared down at the book in his hands as if it had committed an atrocious sin.

Then, an idea slowly formed in his mind. Perhaps he should use it as a diary. He had never tried actually writing down his thoughts, or even personal experiences, and ever since his voice had abandoned him the inside of his mind had been a complete jumbled jungle of reflection and deliberation. Even the tiniest of ideas made a large impact on the general. Before, he hadn't given the slightest damn about anything other than his ambition, but time, or so it seemed, was standing still while he and the flower girl occupied the small cabin in the woods, and because of such, his mind had started to wonder about things that never had appealed to him before.

Why did the fireflies dance in between the trees in the dark, right before bed- who were they searching for? Why did the morning smell different than the evening? Why did the rain always make the day better? Why did fresh things taste so wonderful? What were the tunes Aerith hummed as she dutifully performed the chores no one asked her to do? Why, if Sephiroth had murdered her, did she care for him? Why, every night before bed, did she let the emotions fall from her face and tell him that she forgave him?

The downstairs door opened, releasing Sephiroth of the web of thought he had only just woven himself into. "I'm home!" Aerith's chipper voice called up the stairs as the general heard the door shut. "Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth closed the empty book and tossed it upon his pillow as he stood and strode out of the room, making his way down the stairs. He watched as Aerith placed a rather large cardboard box upon the island in the kitchen, wild grin spread across her face. "Come here- I have something for you!"

Creasing his brow, wondering what in blazes she was talking about, Sephiroth closed the last few feet between them as the small flower girl began to dig inside of the box. She apparently found what she was looking to give him, as a mischievous grin appeared upon her face as she hid whatever it was she wanted to present to him behind her back.

"You have to close your eyes, because it's a surprise!" Sephiroth was sure she couldn't hold in the child-like giggle that escaped her lips, even if she had wanted to.

He rolled his eyes and glared at her, not feeling up to her silly game.

Still, she beamed up at him. "Close your eyes!" she repeated. "And hold out your hands!"

Sephiroth sighed, but did as he was told for lack of a better idea. Perhaps she bought him more cake- she had, after all, laughed when he swallowed his piece nearly whole earlier that day, hardly chewing the spongy delicacy and nearly suffocating. What could he defend himself with? He had never tasted cake before, and it was good. Not the best, he was sure, but delicious regardless.

The general felt something hard and square be dropped into his hands, along with a few, long, skinny, hard objects. Right away he knew what she presented him with wasn't edible, but he opened his eyes all the same and looked down at the present she bought for him. Inside his large palms lay a small, green notebook, accompanied by several pencils and a few pens.

Looking up at her with curiosity, Sephiroth's facial expression asked a question his voice could not- 'what the hell is this'?

Aerith let out another child-like giggle. "It's a notebook for you, so you can write down things you want to say to me so I may read them, instead. I mean, since your voice is gone and all…"

Sephiroth was rather taken aback. Her thoughtfulness blew his mind past its current standing and further out into space. He had no voice, but now, because of her cleverness, he had something nearly as good.

However, Aerith took his silence for something else. Her expression fell, and she lowered her head. "I'm sorry. It's kind of dumb, huh? I guess I really didn't think it through. I just thought…" Sephiroth watched her bite her lip, her cheeks turning slightly pink for the second time that day in his presence. "I… I'll start dinner."

Aerith turned on her heel and suddenly made herself very busy with what she had brought home in the box.

It took several moments for Sephiroth to realize that time was still moving, despite how slow his mind was functioning. He placed the notebook on the counter and flipped open to the first page. Uncapping one of the pens, Sephiroth scribbled something quickly, and then moved to where Aerith stood beside the sink. Almost hesitantly, he held out the notebook, allowing her to read what he had written.

She looked up at him for a moment and then gazed down at his messy handwriting. Squinting her eyes, Aerith slowly read what he had written. She smiled up at him. "Would you mind setting the table?"

Sephiroth nodded and set the notebook down. Upon the first page was a short message.

'Thank you- you have given me a voice.'