Disclaimer: Not mine.
Tifa: Holidays
Midgar was Tifa's escape. She had nothing left at home- no, nothing left in Nibelheim. This slightly run-down tavern in the depths of the Sector Seven slums was her home now, bought with the money she inherited from her father. At first, customers had tried to take advantage of her, thinking a young girl would be easy to fool. But Tifa found she enjoyed having to stay alert for the trickery of her patrons, and they rarely got one over her.
More than anything, the relatively busy custom of her tavern stopped her from having to think too much about the circumstances under which she left her birthplace.
At first it was novel. But as time passed, Tifa saw less and less of the good spirits in which people in the slums seemed to live, and more and more despair. ShinRa neglected the people of the slums, aside from a few forlorn notices from the department of Housing and Development, and the situation was only getting worse.
She wrote a few letters to ShinRa, receiving only a few form-letter responses to her complaints. And still the slums stayed slums, the roads filthy and the light poor. Nothing was changing. And Tifa found that she had an increasing need to do something with her life.
So a few weeks before her eighteenth birthday, she began to seek out rebel groups.
It was not exactly a rebel group she found. Instead, it was one angry man and his baby daughter, obviously adopted. Tifa could sense there was a story behind that, but he didn't tell and she didn't ask. After all, she didn't tell him about her encounter with Sephiroth, nor the real reason she looked with such interest at newspaper articles about SOLDIER.
She never would, either. After all, that's what she came to Midgar to forget.