Unspoken
By mihoyonagi
Chapter 22: Alone
Through the night, the din of the crowd had grown louder and louder as people tried to talk over the live music that jumped around the stage in the middle of the square. Sephiroth, both amused at the musician's actions and a little more than disturbed, watched with much interest. Humans, he mused, were interesting creatures. Yes, while in name and body he was also considered human, his inability to speak left him to feel alienated in a crowd that hummed with excitement and chatter. Aerith, having taken to the excitement quite well, led the way through the maze of bodies that filled the streets. Vendors shouted at her to buy their products, and, being kind, she stopped and chatted with what Sephiroth felt to be every single one of them.
It was obvious the locals had taken a quick liking to her.
Still, for some reason he couldn't quite understand, he felt as though they didn't belong in Kalm. Perhaps it was the amount of people, the festivities, or the fact that he felt Mideel to be their true home, but Sephiroth didn't want to stay anymore then they had to.
However, watching Aerith smile that beautiful smile of hers made him a little less anxious to leave. While he walked, his feet buzzed from the amplitude of noise the speakers in front of the stage were giving off. It made him uncomfortable, but he knew there was nothing that could be done for it.
The cobblestones stilled their humming and fell silent to the night again; the music, and nearly all of the people, had stopped. Suddenly, all the lights around the city went off and an amazing explosion of light burst into tiny starlight-particles and scattered across the sky.
Sephiroth had seen fireworks, but he had never actually stopped to watch them. This time was no different, however. It wasn't his lack of interest that caused him to ignore the fire in the sky; he was more prone to watch the lights reflect in Aerith's eyes when she wasn't paying attention.
He was bothered by this in a way. Never before had he ever paid so much attention to something, especially a person. A strange tugging in his chest told him the feeling wasn't likely to go away. It was almost painful.
When the fireworks dimmed, and the lights of the lamps posted at each street corner blinked to life, illuminating the night with a dim, soft, glow, Aerith looked up at him and smiled. "Ready for bed, then?"
Sephiroth felt his face grow hot, and he silently hoped she had not caught him looking at her with such intensity. Suddenly, he felt very silly. He avoided her gaze all the way back to the hotel.
Upon entering, Sephiroth shed his boots and headed straight for bed, having bathed earlier that evening before he and the flower girl had set out to enjoy the festivities. Aerith, following his example, freed her own feet from her boots and crawled under the covers of her bed.
"Sephiroth?"
He rolled over slightly in the dark, enough to make the springs of his bed creak loud enough to signal that he was listening.
"I forgive you."
It was whispered.
Sephiroth closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions tore at him. Why did she insist on telling him that? He had heard it before, every night since they had been brought back, save for those few days in the hospital, but why wouldn't she understand? Forgiveness was far too great a thing to ask for, let alone for her to grant it to him. Sephiroth felt as though he couldn't take it- as though it wasn't his; that he had done nothing to earn it.
He was as much infuriated with her words as he was softened by them. She, truly, meant no harm. Kind and warm, Aerith was the type of person to not judge another by their actions, but rather, what lay in their heart.
What, then, was repressed so far in the heart of the swordsman that it took the eyes of another to see?
Sephiroth sighed, rolled over, and fell into a fitful sleep.
Long past the break of morning, Sephiroth rolled out of bed. Used to the comfort of his old mattress back in Mideel, the bed of the inn was, to say the least, lumpy and unfitting for most living things. He cursed himself for not paying the extra hundred gil for a nicer room, then pushed it from his mind. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he rubbed at his eyes and yawned.
Aerith exited the bathroom having only just finished blow-drying her hair from her shower. "Good morning," she chirped.
Sephiroth nodded once, attempting to keep his eyes open. He couldn't recall ever being so tired and sore.
Aerith scrunched up her face, and the general assumed she was attempting to hold in a laugh. "Anyway," she sighed. "I figured we could leave today. For some reason, I get the feeling that you're really not enjoying yourself too much."
Feeling more than a little guilty, Sephiroth scribbled a note to her. 'I don't mind what we end up doing. Whatever you decide is fine with me.'
She smiled at him, half-heartedly. "I don't suppose you'd mind, then, if we waited until after the closing ceremony to leave? It'll only last a few minutes, and I was hoping to see it."
Sephiroth shrugged in response, absentmindedly.
Damn cheap inn mattresses and their aftereffects.
The crowd, having only grown in size since the night before, was huddled all around the stage in the middle of the town square. After gathering all of the belongings from their small room of the inn, Sephiroth and Aerith joined the massive sea of bodies.
The speakers suddenly hummed, and a high-pitched screeching sound was emitted from them. Several people in the crowd, namely those closest to said speakers, covered their ears in protest and grumbled something awful about the sound technicians behind the stage.
"Kalm natives, visitors, and guests alike; today, it seems, is our last day together," boomed the voice of a large man, center stage, wearing a ribbon across his wide chest proclaiming him mayor of Kalm.
Sephiroth's eyelids dropped on several occasions during the mayor's speech. Too tired to care what the man had to say, he nodded off a number of times. He didn't bother to open his eyes until he heard Aerith gasp.
When the general looked over, he saw that her face had been drained of much of its color. Following her gaze across the crowd, Sephiroth noticed a small brunette woman in a light green dress, holding the hand of a young girl no more than ten.
Sephiroth nudged Aerith to pull her from her stupor. She looked up at him, color receding back into her cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, Sephiroth silently asked if all was well.
Aerith blinked a few times, obviously in need of a moment to compose herself. She let out a small sigh, then shook her head. "Do you see that woman over there? In the green, with the child?"
Looking back to where the pair stood, fingers interlocked, Sephiroth nodded.
"That's my mom."
Sephiroth's gaze snapped back to Aerith, shock and confusion having apparently taken over his face.
"Not my real mom, of course. She's by foster mother, but at least now I know she's alright." Aerith turned, and started toward the entrance for the town, despite the fact that the mayor still continued with his speech.
Once out of the city gates, Sephiroth pulled his notebook out, fighting with himself over what question that was wracking his brain to ask her. Why hadn't she wanted to see her mother? Humans were social creatures, and accustomed to family. Why, then, had Aerith merely walked away from what family she had?
Before his pen could touch the paper, however, Aerith huffed out a sigh and turned to her companion. "I know what you're going to ask, so don't bother writing it down." She seemed aggravated, and Sephiroth felt, suddenly, sheepish. "I'm dead to her, as terrible as it seems. Tifa, Barrett, someone; they must have told her. What would it be like if I were to just march right up to her and hug her? I'm dead, Sephiroth. I'm alive, but I'm dead."
Her eyes seemed to shimmer with moisture, telling Sephiroth that she was going to cry. Not knowing what to do about it, he merely gave her a sheepish look and shifted his weight.
She couldn't help smile at him, choking back a sob. "Before you even think of it, just know that I don't blame you."
Sephiroth tore his gaze from hers. How could she not blame him? Was it not his sword that ran her through? Was it not his very hands that drove the blade that severed her soul from her body? And she didn't blame him?
She was either more forgiving than Sephiroth though, or very stupid.
He greatly doubted the latter.
"Come on," Aerith sighed, wiping the corner of one eye with her sleeve. "We better get going."
Sephiroth didn't make eye-contact with her again, but he nodded his head to inform her that he heard.
They set out with the warm sun beating down on them.