Chibi: Ahh this is one monumental chapter. You'll see why. The next one is even more monumental, but this one ranks pretty high too. There's not long to go, now - about three more chapters. It'll be ending soon!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Please review!

Nine

"Tifa ... we're gonna go home now."

I pulled myself away from Cloud, dragged my face away from the warmth and support that was his shoulder, and felt his arms drop from my back quickly. I turned around, to find my brother, my father and Aerith stood before me, looking tired, and in Zack's case filthy, and very ready to just go home and go to sleep.

"What about Barret and Marlene?"

"They've got a place to stay," my father told me gently. "They're staying with some friends."

I would have suggested that they'd stay with us – we were their friends too, after all – but I knew that wasn't my decision, and frankly our house seemed to be full enough already. That was a weird thought, I realised. Our house had always felt so empty, since I was ten years old. Suddenly I was thinking of our house as a brimming hive of activity, which in reality I knew wasn't true. Aerith may have joined us, and settled into our spare bedroom, but that didn't make us and our house any more alive than we were before. We still hung like ghosts, we had paled and were unsure, lingering sentiments of my mother, Zack's mother, my father's wife. The spot that had been left open had been half filled by Aerith, making the occupants of the house an even four again, but that didn't really make the house full once more.

"Come on," Zack murmured, turning away and wrapping an arm tightly around Aerith. "Let's go."

As they started walking away, my father following them after giving me a small smile, I noticed that Zack was limping, but it looked like he was very determined not to put any weight on Aerith for support. I wondered if he was hurt more than he was letting on.

"Are you coming back to ours?" I asked Cloud softly. I didn't look at his face – just continued to watch my brother and father heading down the long path towards our house in the distance, where it resided on the very outskirts of the village.

"If that's okay," he said. I nodded, and was taken by surprise when his arm suddenly settled around my shoulders. Having just figured out how I felt only minutes before – that it was him, had always been him, could only be him – I felt myself grow stiff with hope, confused by his actions but desperate to see his intention behind them. "Sorry," he told me quietly, and his fingers dug into the skin of the top of my arm. "Just ... please. I need to hold onto something."

I understood, then, that like my brother, Cloud was hurt more than he was willing to let on. I felt hurt, too, though – despite the fact that they were aching, bruised and battered from battling with a fire, of all things, whilst my hurt was emotional, I felt as weary as he appeared. He needed to hold onto something. That made my face scrunch up in a wince of pain, my eyebrows knitting together as I stared determinedly at the path ahead of us. I was glad that he couldn't see my face. My hurt began melting away, though, as we began to walk, because unlike Zack had been doing with Aerith, Cloud was actually putting his weight on me and relying on me to support him as he struggled with his lethargy to put one foot in front of the other. The skin of his arm against the base of my neck was smooth and comforting. I didn't care that although I knew how I felt, I knew he didn't feel the same because there was Yuffie, still in the picture and still taking from me what I wanted – like she always did – because for the next ten minutes I was allowed the privilege of walking home with Cloud Strife leaning on me, his breath broken and ruffling the top of my hair. I was certain that I could feel his heart, pounding with a ferocity that had to have come with the exertion of moving, because he just seemed to be exhausted, but now, when I look back on it, I think that the frantically beating heart I could hear must have been my own.

Home was a blur – a weary, spent blur – when I got home, and for a time I wasn't entirely sure of what I was doing. I just let my feet pull me upstairs, let my hands work my body out of my work clothes and into a pair of shorts, a camisole, my father's cardigan, fiddling with my hair and eventually just leaving it in the high ponytail I'd tied it in for work, and then my feet were dragging me back down the stairs and I was seating myself down on the sofa, curling my legs beneath me and loosely training my eyes on the buzzing vision of late night television. I could hear the noise in the kitchen of Zack, Aerith and Cloud, who were no doubt sat around the kitchen table like always, sharing my father's whiskey and speaking meaningless words that I couldn't bring myself to listen to, to care about. If I really, truly, worked my hearing, I could hear the dull thunk of the keys of my father's typewriter in his study rising and falling.

I stayed up later than everybody that night. I had never done that before. As the youngest in the family, I had always found myself as the first to retreat to bed in the evenings, and typically (if he was home) Zack would follow some time after me and then, finally, my father would flick out his study light, drain his glass and heave himself upstairs. It was routine, it was order, it was normal for us and we never questioned it – just followed it. But now the routine was wrong, was messed up, was going backwards, because around half eleven I suddenly heard my father turn out his study light, give a sigh, and close the door, his footsteps heavy and detached on the stairs. After that, I heard Aerith saying her goodnights, and she poked her head around the door that separated the living room from the kitchen (our living room was long – the length of the hallway and the kitchen after it combined – and so it had two doors; one that opened into the hallway, and one that opened into the kitchen), and told me the same. Her voice seemed to shake as she did it, which immediately caught my attention – she was firm, our steady Earth in the mess of my family, and a tremor as she spoke was completely uncharacteristic. When I looked closely at her face, I saw that she wasn't smiling, like usual. She just looked sad and tired. She disappeared after my father, and so it was just me, my brother and Cloud left downstairs as the night grew older. I could feel myself growing older with it. I was fifteen but I felt so much older, sat in the living room watching television and ignoring the soft burr of their voices in the kitchen. I felt like I had lived through centuries. I felt like I had seen all that there was to be seen in this life – when in actuality I knew nothing.

"You're up late." My gaze flickered from the television screen to Zack, who was crossing the lounge to sit on the sofa opposite mine, and Cloud was following after him. They both had glasses of whiskey in their hands – like always – and Zack offered me his. I took it and sipped from it deeply, handing it back to him and rolling the taste around in my mouth with my tongue. "So ... watching something interesting?"

"Not really," I mumbled. I stretched my legs out in front of me, balancing them in the air and wriggling my feet that were returning from a state of numbness with painful awareness. I scratched absently at my knee, and when I glanced over to the other sofa, I saw Zack watching the television, and saw that Cloud's eyes were on my bare, out-stretched legs.

I realised, then, that I wasn't wearing what I normally wore around Cloud these days. The shorts were the only exception – come summer I wore shorts every day, if I could – but the slim fitting camisole clung to my skin and was so unlike the baggy t-shirts that belonged to my brother and father that he must have grown used to seeing me in. I wondered, and I wonder now, if the fact that I had chosen to dress differently that night, following the fire, my realisation of my feelings, and the way he leaned on me on the walk home, was a sub-conscious decision to try and get him to notice me. That made me feel embarrassed – it seemed cheap, to use my body and accentuate my curves and breasts to catch his attention, but now that his eyes were on me, subtly roaming my form as I pretended not to notice, and feigned joining Zack in watching the television screen, I felt a heat in my stomach that made me pleased that I had attracted his attention in that way.

After about forty minutes of near silence, as we sat watching the television screen with eyes that each seemed to hold some kind of sadness, Zack finally stood up. He leaned over and reached out a hand, as though to ruffle my hair, but he seemed to think better of it and stopped before his hand reached my head, and he pulled it back with a strange reluctance that I chose not to question. I wouldn't have minded, I wanted to tell him. Honestly. It makes me feel safe when you do that.

"I'm gonna crash," he said shortly, and he gave us each a nod. "Cloud, you wanna stay over?"

"I should probably go home," he murmured, but he made no motion of rising from his seat. Zack nodded again, and then he left the room, his feet sure and familiar on the footsteps like a well-wound clock.

For around a further five minutes, Cloud and I sat in silence. Then, suddenly, he stood up, and began heading towards the living room door – the one that led to the hallway. He stopped, before he went through it, and as he turned to look at me I could see his hand was clasped tight around the edge of the door, as though he was clinging to it for support.

"Good night," he murmured – in a voice so soft and quiet that I almost missed it. Then, before I had time to return it, he was gone, the front door closing behind him and I was left sitting on the sofa, shocked by his abrupt exit and wishing that I could have left the house with him.

It took my father just under a week to complete his new book. My father's editor, Zack and I considered this to be a great feat, but he just shook his head and told us that he couldn't fight against inspiration. Those words, as we sat in his editor's office in Junon, waiting to hold a meeting with his publishers, made me think back again to the incident with me, the hallway, and my mother's piano, and whether that had anything to do with this sudden surge of inspiration that he couldn't battle.

The night after he had spoken with his editor, exactly a week after the fire at Seventh Heaven, my father called Zack and I into the kitchen. Aerith was already there, sat at the table smiling as my brother and I seated ourselves down in the chairs we always sat in. My father sat down, too, opposite me at the round table, and he told us that he'd been given an advance by the publishers on his book, and that he was setting aside two parts of it for Zack and me.

"This is for you to spend on whatever you see fit," he said, and I knew as he spoke the words, that this was some kind of test – to see what we'd decide was fitting for us to spend his hard earned money on. When he told us how much he'd set aside, I was shocked – I had never even been able to comprehend owning so much money at just fifteen. My mind was blank and void of ideas of what to spend the money on – my only ideas for now was just leaving it to stew in the bank, and by the look of surprise on Zack's face, it looked like he was thinking the same thing too – and all I could think was that my father's book had to be really, really good to have provided him with that kind of advance payment.

As I sat there at the kitchen table, with my father, brother and Aerith, a smile stretched out on my face – not because of the money, but because he'd done it, he'd earned it, he'd gotten past it all after five years and now, maybe, we could too.

They each smiled with me, and Zack started laughing, and suddenly we were all laughing, and I felt a happiness in me that had been dead for so long and now erupted into my chest with a heat and swiftness that almost hurt but I revelled in it, enjoyed it, relaxed in my family's happiness.

The next day, I couldn't have remembered that happiness even I had tried.

The morning started out like any other morning that summer – I awoke to sunlight tempered with clouds, I stumbled downstairs and made breakfast with Aerith, ate with my family and showered and dressed. I contemplated going for a run, so I dressed in a pair of shorts, a black sports bra and, almost as an afterthought, pulled a loose, stretched white vest over the top that hung lightly. The weather was sunny and crisp, and for a while, before I began my run, I stood outside in the garden, ignoring the goosebumps that were rapidly rising on my arms like flesh that had been left behind by feathers, and I took my time as I fiddled with my hair, pulling it up high into a ponytail, and messing about with my fringe before deciding to just leave it as it was. I remember thinking how unseasonable the weather was, how autumn seemed to be coming far too quickly and that we had barely even gotten a taste of summer weather – when I look back now on that summer, the thing that jumps into my mind first is rain. It was only the end of August. In around two weeks, I would be going back to school. No doubt Cloud would be returning to Nibelheim soon.

We have a large oak tree in our garden, and the fact that on the ground at its base were dozens of acorns, still in their bases with short stalks protruding from the bottom simply reaffirmed my thoughts that the summer was nearly over. I picked one up, feeling it slip with ease out of the woody stand, and I rolled the acorn itself around in my hand, examining the green flesh with curiosity. I fumbled with it for a while, noting the smoothness with which it tumbled around in the shell of my hand and bumped between my fingers, and I threw it up in the air a few times, catching it with ease.

"Hey,"

Zack's voice startled me. I had just thrown the acorn up into the air, and when he spoke I jumped slightly, and missed its landing. It dropped to the floor and I sighed, bending over and scrabbling loosely for it. As I was bent over, I suddenly felt a sharp swat against my backside.

"What the-"

I stood upright immediately, looking round at Zack with confusion, as he had been standing behind me. He was holding himself awkwardly, now, and his face started colouring slightly with the realisation of what he'd done.

"Why on earth did you do that?"

"I ..." he shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the ground and refusing to meet mine. "I ... I don't really know."

I stared at him for a moment, feeling confusion push and pull at the contours of my face, until finally Zack raised his head and frowned, giving me a look that was partly unreadable, and also partly said I'm sorry. He didn't say the words out loud, but we both felt them.

Everything was floating in the air with a heaviness, like dampness, and I could feel it pressing down on us, on me, flooding through every open crevice in my body and filling me with an uncertainty and uneasiness that made me want to shudder.

"Tifa," Zack murmured, staring upwards at the sky that was the same colour as his eyes. "How do you feel about Cloud?"

"I ..."

I didn't have a chance to finish my sentence, and I still don't know, even now, if I would have opened up and told him that I had recently come to the understanding that, despite the fact that I still didn't know him very well and had only met him at the start of the month, Cloud was rapidly becoming the most important person in the world to me and I knew now that I would do and give anything to be able to protect him in some way. I might have just said that Cloud was a friend – his friend – and nothing more. I might not even have answered him. I don't know, because as I was mustering up the effort to say something, anything, my phone started ringing a cheerful, annoyingly upbeat tune from the pocket of my shorts.

I left it for a moment, as the noise echoed throughout the garden, because I wanted to look at Zack – look at his face, see why he had been asking me that question, but the ringtone began to reach a frustratingly jolly crescendo and I submitted, pulling the phone out of my pocket, opening it and jamming it against my ear.

"Hello?"

"Tifa," Yuffie's voice sounded dead on the other side of the call. "I need you to come by my house."

I frowned. We may have not talked so much in the last few weeks – I couldn't bring myself to talk to her, after seeing her and Cloud together at her party, and then in the window of the bar as I stood outside in the cold and rain – but Yuffie had been my best friend for the majority of my life, and because of that I could immediately tell that something was wrong. Her breathing was hazy and wavering, she sounded lost and sad and she just sounded wrong. She didn't sound like the Yuffie I knew.

"Yuffie, what's wrong?"

There was a noise in the background, like a grunt, but I couldn't tell if it came from her or someone she was with.

"Just come," she asked weakly. "Please ... I-" she cut off for a moment as there was an indistinct murmuring in the background, but her voice swiftly returned. "-I have something I want to show you."

"Now?"

"Yes ... come now, please."

"O-okay," I said awkwardly. The call was ended on her side abruptly, and I slowly withdrew the phone from my ear. Zack looked concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"I'm not sure," I murmured. I slid the phone into my pocket. "She wants me to go to her house. Says she has something to show me."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well ... be careful," he said.

I had already started walking down the garden path, towards the road that would lead me up to Yuffie's house further up in the village. I nodded over my shoulder as I walked.

"Always," I told him.

Within twenty minutes I was knocking on the door to Yuffie's significantly larger-than-most house. There was no answer, but that wasn't too unusual. For a long time, I'd been more than welcome to let myself in and find her inside. I noticed that her parents' car was gone from the driveway, but that wasn't unusual – they both worked long, heavy hours and so Yuffie was constantly left at home on her own. When she didn't answer the door after a few minutes, I hesitantly opened it myself, letting myself into the vast entrance hall and shutting the door behind me. The memory of her wavering, uncertain and very uncharacteristic voice was still very fresh in my mind.

"Yuffie?" I called out.

"Upstairs," she replied. Her voice sounded strangely muffled.

I frowned – I knew her, I knew this wasn't right – but regardless, I just shook my head and began making my way up the stairs to her bedroom, absently looking at the few photographs that lined the walls on the journey up.

Her bedroom door was closed, and I knocked loosely on it before twisting the handle and pushing it open. "Yuffie?"

"Tifa, go – run!"

The door was suddenly slammed shut behind me, and I realised that we were not alone in the room. Kadaj Shinra was standing behind me, his hand tight on the door handle, keeping me inside, and he was grinning.

"Please – don't hurt her!"

I turned my attention to Yuffie, and I realised why her voice, when she'd called down to me from up the stairs, was so strained – she was being held back by an arm around her neck, and another around her waist, and those arms belonged to Loz.

"What's going on?" I asked, and I was pleased that my voice stayed steady, and didn't shake.

"I was hoping that you could tell me," Kadaj said slowly. He was moving away from the door, forcing me to walk backwards across the room as he advanced gradually towards me. Suddenly, two hands shot out from behind me, holding me in much the same position as Yuffie. A sweep of hair that brushed my bare shoulder told me that it was Yazoo.

"What are you talking about?"

I chanced a glance at Yuffie's face; she looked scared and upset, her eyes wide and shining as she fought back frightened tears. There was a rapidly growing red mark on the side of her face, which as it matured began to take the shape of a handprint.

"Three weeks ago, Yuffie had a party," Kadaj was saying. He stepped right in front of me, and very gently wrapped a hand around my upper arm. There was almost no pressure beneath his touch – it could almost have been viewed as an affectionate gesture – but as he spoke his next words, his grip tightened with sharp painfulness that made me cry out at the suddenness. "She cheated on me!"

"No," I whispered. "She didn't, honest ..."

I wasn't doing this – lying to Kadaj Shinra's face, which in itself was a very dangerous action – for her, for my best friend, but for Cloud, to protect him, but what Kadaj said next stunned me so much that all my opinions of Yuffie, of my best friend who I had gradually come to lose almost all respect for, rapidly changed.

"Now Yuffie here has been keeping quiet," he said, his hand still tight around my arm. "Hasn't breathed a word. Refuses to give me a name. And that's why you're here."

I was shocked into silence – she hadn't betrayed him. She'd kept quiet, for his sake. The Yuffie I thought I knew only looked out for number one – herself – and yet here she was, protecting Cloud Strife, a boy she'd kissed and possibly done more with at a party three weeks ago. She was holding back his name from a boy who would surely kill him.

"Tell me!" Kadaj snapped suddenly. I vehemently shook my head and he made a queer, growling sound and then his hand swung back and connected with jarring force with the side of my face. I tried my best to keep silent, just let my head snap to the side and stare at the ground with deep, heaving breaths, thankful that my fringe covered my terrified eyes from Kadaj's view, but a short cry slipped out of my mouth that hung in the silence.

Kadaj shook his head.

"I can't hold it," he almost moaned. Loz was shaking his head, too, but his action was more persuasive and ruling, like he was trying to dissuade Kadaj from something.

"Hold it, Kadaj," he said. His arms were still tight around Yuffie, whose gaze was on the floor. Her head had fallen forward and she hung limp, like a doll being held upright. "Just get the name, and then we'll go and find him and sort this out."

Kadaj's eyes flickered towards my face.

"I'll get it," he breathed heavily, his mouth hot against my ear. "She just needs a little ... incentive."

And with that, Yazoo had released me from his hold and suddenly I found myself being dragged forward and pushed down to the ground. Yuffie's shouts were echoing in my ears like plaintive bleats from a sheep as Kadaj's hands were suddenly burrowing down and dragging my vest up. I adamantly fought back – slapping his hands away and kicking my feet in the direction of between his legs – but he slapped me sharply again and then my hands were being pulled up, above my head and being pressed firmly to the ground, and I assumed that they were being held there by Yazoo.

"Get off, stop it!"

The button on my shorts was being snapped open, the zipper was dragged down and as I squirmed, still kicking out with blows that he dodged impressively, I saw him rear back and begin opening the zipper on his trousers.

"You want this, I know you do," he spat.

"Please, leave her alone!" Yuffie wailed helplessly.

"Just get the name, Kadaj," Loz muttered.

He was easing his trousers down, now, and I could see his underwear and that he was straining against it, and as he moved closer down upon me, his hands tight around my thighs, all I could think about was that I probably deserved this – I was the one who had been desperate to lose my virginity – and now, at fifteen and at the hands of Kadaj Shinra, I was going to regret my wish for the rest of my life.

It pains me, even now, knowing that it was me – I said it, I did it.

As hot fingers began roughly pulling my shorts down, a final leap of desperation tumbled out of my throat that made me gasp and sob as soon as I'd said it.

"Cloud Strife ... it was Cloud Strife."

Kadaj grinned widely.

"I knew it," he whispered.

But still his fingers were moving and he was pressing down against me.

"No!" Yuffie yelled, her shout ripping through the silence that had been cast over us all as soon as I'd said it, done the unthinkable. "She gave you the name! J-just leave her alone!"

Kadaj raised his eyebrows, and he pulled back, away from me, kneeling on the ground and doing his trousers up again, his eyes trained on Yuffie's weak, sobbing form that was only being held upright by Loz's firm grip.

"Fine," he said, standing up and pulling on her wrist, his fingers wrapped so tightly around it that it was a wonder that the wrist didn't snap under the force of it. She gave a soft whimper. "You're coming with us." He looked sharply at me. "You tell him ... you tell Strife, to meet me, and that if he doesn't," he suddenly pulled his shirt aside and I saw something sticking tucked into an inside pocket – a glint of metallic warning. He had a gun. "If he doesn't, then I'll blow her brains out."

"What the-" it all seemed so unreal, like a dream; this was Gongaga, things like this - guns, rape and death threats - didn't happen here. But the fire in his eyes made me all too certain that he would be true to his word. I knew I had to take him seriously, and so I felt I had to ask: "Where?"

He looked around almost wildly for a destination, and then he found one and gave it. "Up the mountain," he said, and he seemed to be panting as Yuffie still struggled against his hold. "You know where." He said these last words meaningfully, very pointedly – and I did know, I knew exactly where. Then, he was leaving.

"No – Yuffie -"

"Tifa!"

Kadaj Shinra was bundling my best friend out of the door, and Yazoo and Loz were following him, leaving me, shaking and weak like a newborn deer, in a pathetic little heap on the ground.

As I lay there sobbing softly, holding my arms tightly against myself like some sort of broken embrace, I remembered the party, the morning after, stepping out into the dawn with Aerith, my brother, and Cloud, and the ghost of a cockerel's crow haunted my memory again. I remembered the words I'd thought to myself, and how I had reflected on the previous night's happenings – an image of Yuffie on Cloud's lap, their heavy breathing and the pain that had flooded my chest in despair. That is for betrayal. Who would the traitor be?

I let out a pained cry, hating every part of myself for being so weak – so helpless. I couldn't protect him; I couldn't do what I'd been so desperate to do for him.

Me. I was the traitor.

It was raining when I left the house. It took me a while to pull myself together, to coerce myself into a sitting position and then to finally force myself to stand and will my legs to move, to work, to take me forwards and down the stairs and towards him. I was still sobbing – soft, trembling little ones that kept me holding myself tight – as I stumbled forwards, mud splashing up at my legs as I took every painstaking step closer and closer home. I didn't even know if he'd be there, surely the logical place to start searching would have been at his own house, but I was so confused and angry with myself that all I could think about was getting myself back home and how I was going to explain to him what I had done – that I had done the worst possible thing, that I'd betrayed him.

My front door swung open too easily at my touch, and I staggered inside, slamming it shut behind me, and then my legs suddenly gave way and I clutched desperately at the wall beside me as a fresh wave of sobs took over me and I stood there for a few moments, shaking and crying and trying to keep myself up until finally, my legs stopped quivering and I felt like I could move forward.

When I reached the top of the stairs, what caught my eye was the open door of the guest bedroom. I edged closer to it, and found Zack and Cloud sat inside, on the bed. Cloud was sitting beside my brother, looking distinctly uncomfortable, whilst Zack was almost doubled over, his hands shaking violently and his breathing cutting short rapidly so that he kept drawing great, desperate gasps.

"What's going on?"

"She's gone ... Aerith's gone."

"What?" I crossed the room, away from the doorway until I was standing in front of the two of them where they sat on the bed. My first thought was that Kadaj had come and taken her, had kidnapped her, but when I actually thought about it I realised that he wouldn't have had the time to get down here before me, kidnap my brother's girlfriend, and get out of here without someone noticing. I saw, clutched in his hands, a sheet of paper. When I glanced around the room, I saw that it was as bare as it had been when I'd first shown Aerith in, at the start of the month.

"She's left ... she just up and went, and left me a note. She says it's for my own good."

"What the hell-"

"-What happened to you?"

Cloud's soft voice sliced through my exclamation and made Zack look up suddenly, and his eyes widened as he took in my appearance. I glanced down, saw the bruises on my thighs, the rings of red around my wrists, and felt the head radiating from my cheek – no doubt I had a handprint that matched Yuffie's.

I looked desperately at Cloud, trying to make him understand with my eyes.

"Kadaj ... he – he tried to ... he was going to-"

Zack swore suddenly and his fist clenched around the paper in his hands, crushing it, as he realised what I was saying and what his best friend had done – or had tried to do.

Cloud was standing up, his face contorted with what looked like anger. "I knew this would happen," he was saying. He started heading towards the door when I cried out to him – if he had feelings for Yuffie, like I was sure he did, then I had to deliver my message.

"He's got Yuffie," I said weakly. "He's got her ... he wanted me to tell you. He said for you to meet him up-up the mountain. He'll kill her if you don't. Cloud, I'm so sorry-"

Cloud was crossing the room again, in opposite direction – towards me. He pulled my face towards his and kissed me.

"It's okay," he said, and then he was gone, out of the room, down the stairs, and the front door was left banging in his wake.

My knees gave way, again, and I found myself sat on the floor, Zack's eyes on me and wide with surprise, and I knew then that I was still here, still in the room I used to play in, with the border of ducks chasing each other along the top of the walls, almost touching the ceiling. But I wasn't six years old anymore, playing with my brother in a nursery and trying to fly high. I was older, I was sat in a spare, mostly unused bedroom and I was shaking.

I was fifteen. I was still a child.

Chibi: well - there it is. I guess it's what some people have been waiting for! Poor little Tifa thinking he liked Yuffie. Heh.

Well, I hope it was okay. Please review I beg of you. Please.

Haha well okay, see you soon for the next chapter!

xx