Unspoken

By mihoyonagi

Chapter 12: Interruption

Slowly, Sephiroth opened his eyes and greeted the new morning sunlight that trickled through the window with a tremendous yawn and a languid stretch that would make the most agile of felines jealous. Turning his head toward the small clock hung upon the wall across his room, he sat up suddenly, realizing what time it was; he had slept in nearly two hours past his normal waking time of dawn. As he peeled off the feathered comforter, something caught his eye as it fell to the floor. A fresh pair of clothes had already been laid out for him by the ever dutiful Aerith. Furrowing his brow, Sephiroth pondered how she could have slipped into his room without waking him; his attuned senses should have woken him up. Had he the ability, Sephiroth would have grumbled over how careless he had become. His senses were beginning to dull simply because he had become comfortable in the presence of the flower girl.

Standing up, Sephiroth pushed the rest of his thoughts from his head as he dressed. He could hear the clanking and banging of pots and pans down the stairs and decided, perhaps, it was time to descend and see what his pink-clad flower girl was up to. When he appeared upon the bottom step, Aerith looked up and smiled over the counter at the man whom stood with one hand on the stair railing.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," she twittered. "Have a good rest?"

Sephiroth nodded, awkwardly. He had, strangely enough, slept rather well.

Suddenly, the small egg-timer that sat near her on the counter began to ring, signaling to the brunette that whatever it was that was inside the oven had finished baking. Scurrying to the oven, Aerith pulled a steaming pan of cinnamon rolls and placed them on the cutting board. She pulled off the oven mitts that adorned her tiny hands and looked back up to the man whom now stood in front of her. She smiled at him once more.

"Once they cool off we can eat them."

Sephiroth nodded as Aerith turned away from him, placing her oven mitts back into their proper drawer. His eyes then fell to emerald ribbon embedded in her lush chestnut locks. Sephiroth couldn't deny that the color was one that looked good on her; even a blind man would be able to tell such a thing. It, however strange as it was, pleased him immensely to know that it had been he himself who had picked out such a fetching gift. The way her eyes had lit up the night before when she had pulled it out of the small paper bag -not a proper way to wrap a gift, he was certain- had done something to him. He wanted to see that same look on her face more often. Seeing her happy and pleased was one thing; he wanted to see that breathless smile on her countenance again. Seeing her so happy had, oddly enough, made him happy.

Pulling Sephiroth out of the mess of thoughts he had entangled himself into, Aerith's voice sounded, informing the general that the cinnamon rolls were fit for consuming, that being just what Sephiroth was hoping for. Cake was good, but it was far from a breakfast food. Cinnamon rolls were the next best thing so early in the morning, especially the way Aerith made them.

Breakfast was consumed in what had become normal fashion for the pair, and the afterward way in which it was cleaned; Aerith made it, and thusly Sephiroth cleaned it up. He was, at least, thankful that there were only two of them. Such a small number of people dining meant that dishes remained small in number, no matter the meal. Aside from it being common courtesy, considering it was Aerith who had cooked it, doing the dishes for her was, in a way, silent thanks. 'The meal was good, so let me clean it for you because you've done enough' sort of thanks, really. He felt she understood, at least, and that he didn't do it out of mere want; it was payment, so to speak.

"I am going into town today." Aerith threw out the comment, knowing it wouldn't surprise the silver-haired man who was up to his elbows in dirty dish water.

He, however, rebounded with a look of curiosity mixed in with boredom. Sephiroth knew that there was nothing they needed at the moment; their food supplies were anything but low, and they both had all they needed for the time being.

She smiled up at him, knowingly. "I just want to visit with the townspeople. I stayed cooped up all day yesterday because I was hoping you'd come back. It didn't occur to me to even talk to anyone in town and see if they had seen you. I was just…"

Sephiroth didn't need her to finish her sentence to understand what she was trying to say; she was so scared that he had left her the day before that all logic had completely fled her mind and left her to cry on the stump outside. Something unfamiliar and almost painful struck Sephiroth's chest when he thought of how he had made her worry all day. He should have left a note…

"Would you like to come with me?" she proposed, leaning against the counter beside him.

Sephiroth pondered for a moment. He had, after all, worked from dawn until dusk the day before; a day of relaxation was in order, was it not? He nodded, returning then to the dishes in front of him.

When said dishes had been properly washed, dried, and placed in their respected places within the cupboards and drawers, the general and the flower-girl made their way down the stone path and into town. Sephiroth noted that it was again the weekly porting day- many ships from foreign continents, countries, and cities made their way to the coast and harbored in the bay. Trading ships full of foreign treasures bobbed in the water next to vessels wanting only supplies to take with them. Foreigners with dark skin talked with the owners of shops while tourists took pictures of wildlife. All the while, Aerith and Sephiroth moved in between the masses.

Their first stop was, of course the bakery. The elderly man behind the counter greeted Aerith with his usual bright smile. The pair twitted as the elder of the two kneaded a fresh batch of dough behind the counter, Sephiroth content to simply lean against the bakery window and wait, watching the crowd pass by. Something glistened in the sun outside the bakery window, and Sephiroth had to squint to keep from going blind. He didn't need another disability heaped on top of the one he already had. As soon as the light had appeared, however, it vanished. Browsing the crowd from the inside of the bakery, the general furrowed his brow in concern. That flash of light had seemed so familiar…

A light touch on the general's shoulder nearly scared his brain, in which had only just been in deep thought, right out of his platinum-covered head. He turned and watched a small smile spread across Aerith's lips. "Did I scare you?" Was she teasing him? She only received a glare in return.

"Well, anyway- I'm all done here. I just want to stop by the florists to say hello, and then we can go home." Aerith began to walk in the direction of the flower shop, Sephiroth close at her heels.

Sephiroth took note that the streets were unusually crowded as he and the flower girl walked through the street toward the florist's small shop. The weather was, he noted, extremely warm considering it was only February, meaning that the town they walked through was located somewhere near the equator. From this idea he thusly drew the conclusion that tourist season had just started. Such an assumption would explain all of the people walking with cameras in hand, hordes of children running and shouting at their feet.

The same flash radiated in the bright late-morning sunlight. The light forced Sephiroth to close his eyes and stop, momentarily blinded by whatever the brilliant illumination was. When he forced his eyes open once more, Aerith had already arrived at the flower shop at the end of the lane and was looking around for the location of her companion. It wasn't the flower girl that caught Sephiroth's attention, however.

It was the large mass of spiky blonde hair that was drifting through the crowd that stole Sephiroth's attention. The glare had undeniably come from the colossal sword strapped to the back of the blonde.

Blood turned to ice and hatred melted away into fear, only to be frozen in the limbs of the silver-haired swordsman. Sephiroth couldn't move; all he could do was feel, and he was feeling enough; a torrent of emotions he had never known tore at his being as he stood dead still in the middle of the road, completely frozen with fear where he stood, yet unnoticed by the young blonde who walked the streets. The general officially knew what it was to fear. Oh, don't be fooled; he still hated the blonde with every fiber of his being, however, fear outweighed the want for revenge and blood considering it was the very blonde that slowly was walking in his direction who had succeeded in killing him.

The only thing that ripped Sephiroth from the near blinding-fear that ran through his veins was Aerith's voice calling out his name. Again and again she called out his name and once she spotted him she extended her arm over her head and waved in his direction. "I'm over here, Sephiroth!"

The blonde turned at the mention of such a name. Sephiroth didn't understand for one second why he began to run, but his feet were, thankfully, working faster than his brain was at the moment, and his legs pounded beneath him. Aerith, looking horrified as the general ran toward her, let out a sharp squeal when Sephiroth, all in one languid motion, bent down and picked her up, never once faltering his pace. He didn't dare look behind him for fear of just who might be following him, but he didn't stop running until his feet brought him to the door of the small cabin in the woods.

When he had, indeed, stopped, Aerith wiggled and struggled to get out of his grasp. Sephiroth didn't pay attention, however, and merely unlocked the door and all but tripped over the door frame as he struggled to get inside. It was only when the door was tightly shut did he bother to let Aerith down. He placed both of his hands on ether side of her while he panted heavily. She stood and faced him, hands brought up carefully in front of her, clasping one another. His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed while he gasped for air, only inches away from Aerith as he leaned against the door to regain his breath.

"Sephiroth?"

As it always did, her voice brought him back to reality. Her large emerald eyes were filled to the brim with worry and curiosity. Quickly assessing the position in which he had pinned her to door, he pulled back and freed her, shocked at his own rashness; aside from carrying her to the hospital when they had first arrived back on the side of the living, he hadn't touched her. Having been to close to her, he felt, suddenly and strangely, awkward.

"Sephiroth, what is it?" her voice begged for an answer. "Was there danger? Should we warn the villagers?"

Shaking his head, Sephiroth pulled out the notebook in which the flower girl had so thoughtfully provided for him earlier. He scribbled something, and then shoved the notebook in her direction.

'I am the only one in danger.'

"Sephiroth, you're not making any sense." She shook her head and handed him back the notebook.

He tore it from her hands, becoming frustrated. He jotted down his message and gave the book back to her.

Her eyes lit up in a way Sephiroth had only seen on one other occasion; when he had given her the ribbon which sat contently in her hair. An unsettling feeling erupted inside Sephiroth and if he wasn't completely sure it was a physical impossibility, he could have sword his heart had sunk into the pit of his stomach.

He had written only one word. To Sephiroth, it was a dreadful prospect. To Aerith, it was delightful.

'Cloud.'