Unspoken
By mihoyonagi
Chapter 11: Reward
The calming moonlight filtered through the slits in the blinds that lined the hospital's windows. Sephiroth walked, proud and tall, if not a little sore, down the hallway, pacing through moonlight and darkness alike. Only moments before, he had delivered the last of the color-coded boxes to their designated places about the hospital. He was, to say the least, very pleased with his own work. Not only had he not made a single mistake, he had been rewarded by many of the nurses with hand-baked goodies throughout the day to keep his strength up. One woman had brought him cake. Immediately, the silver-haired man knew the little slice of delight to be store bought; it tasted of fillers and air but, at the very minimal aspect, it had been moist and sweet.
Once again, he counted the numbers on the door as he passed them; fifty-four; fifty-five; fifty-six; Rej's office. Sephiroth rapped the back of his knuckles on the stained wood door and waited for a reply. The nurses and other faculty of the building had long since left the hospital for their homes and families. Somehow, Sephiroth knew that Rej had remained, if only for him.
"Come in," the reply sounded at last.
Slowly and carefully, Sephiroth opened the door to the doctor's office. Unlike the dimly lit hallway the general had only just traversed through, Rej's office was bright with artificial light. The doctor turned to face the man in his office. "I didn't expect you to work this late," he chuckled. "I suppose you finished it all, then?"
Sephiroth nodded. He had, indeed, finished all that had been set before him earlier that day. The dull ache in his back reminded him of such.
Rej produced a small envelope from his pocket and handed it to the silver-haired man before him. Sephiroth reached out to retrieve it, but paused when Rej refused to let go. "Take care of her, you hear? I can guarantee that you won't find another girl like her."
Puzzled, Sephiroth pulled the envelope out of Rej's grasp when the doctor finished his statement. There was a strange tension in the room, and though Sephiroth could not name it, he knew it was there, thicker than the air.
Rej's face softened slightly. "I didn't mean for that to sound so menacing," he confessed. "When the two of you were first brought in, I had a chance to talk to Aerith. Though she refused to tell me who you were, the way she spoke of you made me notice how incredibly caring and kind she was. Taking care of you reaps her no reward, as you may have noticed. You, just as well, receive nothing while constantly keeping her company."
Sephiroth paused to think of this. What the doctor said wasn't true, in the slightest. The flower girl had invited him to live with her; her reward for looking after him was his constant company. That was what she wanted, and that was what he provided for her, without really knowing it. While living with her, Sephiroth had learned many things he might have never given a second thought, such as the daily tasks of cooking and cleaning. While in the military, Sephiroth had never bothered with pots and pans and all of that. He would simply slay a monster in the woods, skin it, skewer it, and cook it over an open flame he brought forth using materia. He didn't miss any of it. Fully cooked and prepared food was far better than anything he had killed and ate like a cave man. Aside from that, depending on the monster, skinning was quite rigorous, especially with only a large katana to work with. Snapping out of his reminiscence, Sephiroth looked up at the doctor again. Rej's face had lightened considerably.
"I don't know if you have realized this, but your young friend seems very dedicated to you." At this point in time, Rej smiled. "It's your duty to take care of her in return."
Not knowing what else to do, mind completely blank, Sephiroth nodded to the doctor. The kind man's words had done more than confuse the general; they had left him utterly distraught. A strange feeling began to prickle inside Sephiroth's chest. Spinning on his heel, he quickly left the office, not bothering to look behind him.
'What was that about?' Sephiroth couldn't help but think as he exited through the automated front doors of the hospital. The moonlight beat down upon the path that was set out in cobblestone before him. Sephiroth began down it, hoping that a certain shop in town wasn't closed…
He quickened his pace.
The lights of the small gift shop were beginning to flicker off when Sephiroth stumbled into the store. The elderly woman behind the counter scowled as the bell hung on the door handle gave off a merry little late night jingle, but her face softened considerably when she saw whom it was who had entered. "What can I do your you, sweetie? Is Aerith in need of more recipe cards?"
Sephiroth shook his head. Days before, he and Aerith had wandered into the small store. Naturally, Aerith had befriended the elderly owner right away, and the small old woman had provided more recipe cards to add to the collection Aerith had only just gathered from the baker. This was no time for recipe cards.
"Well, then, what do you need?" Sephiroth ignored the small twinge of animosity that began to leak into the woman's voice. Pulling forth the small notebook from his pocket, Sephiroth scribbled a message in which he promptly presented to the woman.
'I am looking for a gift for her.'
The woman smiled. That smile, for some reason, made Sephiroth uneasy. "Take your time, dear," she offered. Such a statement didn't aid the feeling the old elderly figure gave him.
Sephiroth began to browse. What would Aerith enjoy as a gift? She seemed to like practical things- calendars, clothes, and gardening tools. Just as well, however, she also adored impractical things- flowers, cake, and hair ribbons.
That was it. That pink tattered hair ribbon annoyed the general, though he would never tell her; it was torn and ratted, and she needed a new one, desperately. Sephiroth looked to the old woman. She looked back at him, expectantly. Unsure of what else to do, Sephiroth pointed to his hair whilst making a rather flamboyant sweeping motion. The woman smiled expectantly and pointed to the far corner of the store. Sephiroth nodded in thanks and made his way across the creaking floorboards that groaned under his weight.
Somehow, he hadn't been expecting such a large display of hair ribbons. Why, on the face of the planet, were women always so picky? Different tastes for every one of them, he supposed, grudgingly. He began to sort through the various ribbons.
Never in his strangest dreams had Sephiroth ever thought there could be so many types, colors, sizes, and textures of one of the most pointless accessories on the planet. Sorting through the assorted ribbons, he shook his head, wondering how he had ever managed to dig himself into such a hole. Some ribbons were soft; some were coarse; some ribbons shimmered; others soaked in the light; some ribbons were pleasing soft colors; others were shockingly bright; Sephiroth hadn't the slightest idea what to make of it all.
'I should have bought a cake. That way, I could have enjoy the gift as well.' Had he the ability, Sephiroth would have growled. However, right at that moment, something caught his eyes.
A green ribbon had fallen on to the floor, forgotten and tossed aside. Kneeling down, Sephiroth retrieved the cloth and found, on further inspection, that it was rather beautiful. The emerald green color of the ribbon reminded him of the stark beauty of the emerald eyes of the flower girl. Turning the ribbon over, he found that it had been embroidered with dragons in thin, gold thread.
That was enough to catch his interest completely. Dragons were something Sephiroth was quite fond of, whether he admitted it out loud or not. Dragons represented strength in both physical and mental aspects. The epitome of wisdom and inner beauty, Sephiroth had been fascinated with myth upon myth that circled around the mythical beast. In battle, he had cringed when forced to slay one of the divine beings. It was, however, battle- either the creature was to die, or he would have to forfeit his own life to save it.
Clutching the ribbon tightly in his hand, Sephiroth turned and marched back to the front counter, gently placing fabric on the counter. The woman smiled. "I know she'll love that one," she all but giggled. Sephiroth paid the woman her said amount and quickly left the store after the ribbon had been placed carefully into a small paper bag.
The walk back to the cabin was quiet, to say the least. The chirping of the crickets reminded him that they kept him company as he walked. They didn't judge him, and in return, he didn't bother them. Allowing them to play their song, he slowed his paced and enjoyed the tiny orchestra that played for him in the moonlight. The grass around the path was as wet as it had been when he had left earlier that morning, and for the second time that day, Sephiroth was glad his boots were high.
He stopped when the cabin came into view. The outside light was on, spilling brightness upon the darkened earth. A slumped figure was crouched over the stump Sephiroth had cut clear the day before. The general could hear sharp intakes of breath, and he quickly grew wary of the situation. What was happening?
Apprehensively, Sephiroth approached the clearing, only just becoming aware that he had left Masamune in its snug place in the back of the coat closet next to the door. Bending low and taking small steps, he crouched closer to get a better look at the shaking figure on the stump.
It only took him a few moments to realize that it was, in fact, Aerith upon the stump. Her back was to him, her face in her hands, and she was weeping.
Stepping quickly out of the shadows, Sephiroth entered the clearing. When foliage crunched under the weight of his bulky boots, the crying Aerith looked up at the silhouetted figure. He heard the flower girl's sharp intake of breath as she turned to see who had intruded upon her small garden.
The general stood as still as a stone statue, small paper bag, ribbon safely inside, clutched tightly in his strong hands. Suddenly, almost in a fit of rage, he pulled his notebook from his pocket; walking toward Aerith's sitting figure, he presented her with his message.
'Who did this to you?'
Aerith peered curiously at the message scribbled upon the parchment in Sephiroth's handwriting for several moments. It was almost as if she didn't understand the question. Suddenly, however, her face contorted and Sephiroth gazed upon, for the first time, a completely furious flower girl. Taken aback, Sephiroth retreated as Aerith stood to meet him.
She held up a wilted flower. Sephiroth looked first to the flower, then to the petite woman who held it, and once more back to the flower. He slowly grew confused as a hot trail of tears burned down Aerith's face. She held up the flower that he had left her early that morning. It had meant to be a message, so to speak, that he would be back. Aerith, apparently, had taken his message differently.
"You! You did this to me! You left me! I can't believe you! No note- nothing at all!" Tears continued to fall from the porcelain skin of the flower girl. "I didn't know if you had left me for good, or if you just got sick of me and left for the day! How was I meant to know where you were? I wanted to go into town, but I was too afraid that you really had left! How could you make me worry like that?"
An almost cold-like feeling washed through Sephiroth's veins. What was it he was experiencing? Was it guilt for making her worry because of him? Or perhaps it was the fact that she had waited for him all day, and long into the night. By the look on her face, worrying was all she had done that day, save for crying, of course. He should have left a note.
But how was he to know that she would react so to the flower he had left? He had meant it to be a show of trust- he would return before the flower wilted. By the way the flower in her outstretched hand looked, the poor thing hadn't left Aerith's hand all day.
Why had she worried so much about him? Was she truly that afraid of being alone? Honestly, was his company worth keeping; it wasn't as if he was a good conversationalist.
Sheepishly, Sephiroth began to scribble in his notebook once Aerith's frantic breathing had returned to a normal pace. Cautiously, Sephiroth held out his new message for Aerith to read.
'Happy Birthday.'
Aerith's face immediately let fall the fit of fury that had taken over it only moments before. A new trail of tears blazed down her face, but this time, she smiled, tentatively. "How did you know?" The mood had obviously lightened considerably.
Sephiroth shrugged and scribbled a new message in his notebook. 'I saw the calendar and took a wild guess.'
Aerith wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, weakly smiling. "Oh." That was all she managed to squeeze out. Based on what Sephiroth could interpret, given her facial expression, she was feeling rather awkward over having yelled at him when, in the long run, he had been trying to do something nice.
Sephiroth held out the hand that contained the small paper bag. Aerith looked at it, puzzled. "For me?" It was astonishment that filtered freely through her voice. Her face filled with surprise. Sephiroth merely nodded.
Carefully, Aerith took the bag from Sephiroth's outstretched hand, still holding her flower in the other. Almost afraid of what it was the bag contained, Aerith slowly unfolded it and pulled out its contents for the entire world to see. The gift stole the breath right out of her chest.
"It's beautiful," she whispered into the night air. She looked up at him, her eyes alight with emotion. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"
Sephiroth wasn't entirely sure what happened next, but as soon as he had finished blinking, he felt Aerith's small arms wind around his waist. Her face was planted firmly against his lower chest, and based off the way she was shaking, Sephiroth knew she had started to weep once more.
An extremely tight feeling exploded inside Sephiroth's chest. The sensation was as new to him as walking on the moon might be for a kitten. He felt the need to do something, but his limbs had suddenly, much to his own dismay, gone completely numb. Why did he feel the way he did? The feeling welling up inside of him was nearly as confusing as the woman wound around his waist!
Pulling back with a slight giggle, Aerith unwound her arms from around Sephiroth's waist. What was the faint color that tinted her cheeks to a lovely rosy hue? Why did it feel as though there was a source of heat on his face?
Aerith placed the ribbon and flower between her teeth as she reached behind her head and undid her hair. Begin ever mindful to keep the braid complete and not disrupt it, Aerith attempted to tie her new green ribbon in her hair. She, however, failed miserably. Turning around, she let her back face the man with platinum hair. "Will you help me? I seem to be disabled, at the moment."
Furrowing his brow and glad that she couldn't see him do it, Sephiroth set about tying the dragon-embroidered cloth into Aerith's hair. Though, like many other things he would never admit to out loud, Sephiroth noticed the softness that was Aerith's hair as he set to tying it up and how very much alike it was in regards to his own hair and the texture of it all. If there was one thing Sephiroth still took great pride in, it was his long, sleek, silver mane. He believed it to make him a more ominous presence in the company of enemies. Even monsters fled from him. But Aerith's hair, while it felt as soft and wonderful as his did, wasn't meant to be added as a fear factor upon her person; it was simply how she was. Besides, he somehow doubted that she would look good with shorter hair.
Slipping out of his strange little dream world, Sephiroth finished tying a very delicate bow.
Aerith turned again to face him. "I bet you are hungry, huh?" She smiled up at him, genuinely. "Well, I guess we will be eating late tonight!" turning on her heel, Aerith wandered into the house, hurriedly.
Letting out a small sigh, Sephiroth pondered what had occurred in the span of a few minutes as he stood still in the garden. He peered up at the moon, hoping for answers, but the pearly orb simply hung in the sky as it always did, not offering advice, but not judging the man's discord, either. When she was pressed firmly against his chest, tears of apparent happiness streaming down her face, Aerith had whispered something into the folds of Sephiroth's shirt.
"I forgive you."
It was always the same, night after night.
But this time, Sephiroth felt it had meant far more. Her eyes, after all, had been so full of emotion they leaked upon his clothes when she pressed against him.
Sephiroth, again, questioned himself.
What did it all mean?
The moon hung in the air, quietly watching him as he let out another small sigh. It was still there when he fell asleep hours later, but even then, it offered nothing- only, and always, light.