CHAPTER 21: STARTING FROM ZERO

There was a growing pile of clothing on Tifa's bed. Lately, dressing comfortably was becoming more and more difficult and she certainly didn't have time for this! Today was the big boat race on the river bank and she was meeting with Cloud to join the festivities—that is, if she could ever decide what to wear! She slipped on her bathing dress and stared at her reflection in the full length mirror. Nothing fit right anymore.

Now twelve years old, she had grown much taller since her last birthday. Her shoes pinched and her dresses were all too tight, especially around the chest. Tifa ran her hand at the fabric near her collarbone. Sensitive, tiny breasts now pushed against the bodice and they ached as the material chaffed against them. Tifa knew that adult ladies had breasts but wasn't sure how they got them. Before now, she had never given them much thought or knew what their use was until she saw Mrs. Nelson discreetly nursing little Sarah in the market. She supposed it was something her mother would have taught her about if she was still around.

Sighing, Tifa threw on her thin, yellow summer frock over her bathing dress and fastened the buttons, leaving the top one undone so her chest wouldn't feel so constrained. She nervously ran her hands through her hair, which draped down to her elbows. I guess this'll have to do. Her sandals didn't hurt as much as her closed toed shoes, so she slipped them on and made her way down the stairs. Hand on the knob of the front door, she paused at the sound of wood being cut in the basement. She had to try.

"Papa?" Tifa asked quietly from the top of the woodshop's staircase. The sound of sawing stopped, so she continued. "Are you going to the race today? Did you make a boat?"

"I don't have time for that sort of thing."

"I know; you work so hard. But you love to build things and I thought you might find it fun." She held her breath and gripped the skirt of her dress. She just wanted to see him smile again.

"I've got three hundred pounds of wood to cut for the Nelson house. I don't have time for fun."

"Ah, I see." Tifa awkwardly lingered for a moment, "…I love you, Papa."

The answering silence carved deep scars into her heart. Tifa let the back door of the house slam shut with a BANG.

… … …

Almost the entire population of the village was there at the bank of the river: picnicking, flying kites or playing card games as they enjoyed the sunny Sunday afternoon. Puffy, white clouds hung high in the sky and the sound of cicadas echoed across the valley. Cloud and Tifa hurried down the dirt path to join the others. The boy grinned as he held the tiny wooden sailboat they had made and Tifa merrily jogged behind him, gripping the strap of her leather pack as it bounced against her hip. She could see the crowd of men and boys gathered where the starting point of the race would be.

"Hurry! They're going to start without us!" Tifa panted as the pair sprinted towards the water's edge.

Cloud skidded to a halt at the starting line with Tifa on his heels, carefully setting their boat into the water. The sail had been made of a spare piece of Claudia's handkerchief fabric and the rest was unevenly constructed with bits of sticks and spare wood from Papa's workshop. It looked more like a raft than a boat, but it would have to do. At the sound of the whistle, Cloud let go of the boat, letting it drift into the river's lazy current along with the others. There was cheering and laughter from the crowd as a dozen or so little boats raced each other down to a finish line marked by a fishing net that was strung from shore to shore. Most of the racers followed along the shore as their creations drifted downstream.

"Oh no! Cloud, look!" Tifa pointed towards their little raft as it tilted to the side. Its uneven hull dipped below the surface, hampering its speed. Nearby, Jason and his father cheered as their boat took the lead by a small margin. A gust of wind quickened the pace of the race, sweeping Thomas's boat up as competition.

"Ah, darn it," Cloud huffed as their boat succumbed to the current and began to sink below the waves. Once the tip of the mast disappeared under water Tifa let out an amused giggle, prompting a half-hearted chuckle from her friend. A hand on both of their shoulders pried their eyes from the water.

"I guess neither of you should pursue a career as a shipwright!" Claudia laughed. "Nice try, you two! Maybe next year, you'll come out on top!"

In the end, it was the little boat built by Thomas and his father that reached the net first. Tifa watched him collect first prize—a brand new checker board and pieces—from her spot on the picnic blanket beside the tiny Strife family. Distracted by uneasy thoughts, the girl took a tiny bite of the sandwich Claudia had made her. She and Thomas hadn't been on very friendly terms since she had scolded him for fighting with Cloud. They were rarely alone together, and when they were something felt tense and strange. She watched as Thomas entered the tree line a short distance away and vanished out of sight, likely gathering some sticks on which to roast some snacks over the small bonfire his father had built. Tifa had apologized several times in the past and tried to make amends, but the boy seemed to be growing disinterested in her companionship as time went by. If she had hurt his feelings, she certainly hadn't meant to. Maybe she should try once more. She stood up, smoothed the skirt of her dress and wrapped the remainder of her sandwich in the small piece of cloth it had been packed in.

"I'll be right back!" she said before she sprinted off towards the forest.

Cloud watched her go with a frown. He had seen her watching Thomas and knew she was going to seek the boy out. The thought made him anxious—what did she want with that pompous bonehead? What if their meeting wouldn't go well and something bad happened? Thomas had been continually hurting the girl by neglecting their friendship and becoming distant. Cloud thought this was for the best, since nothing about that boy was good in his opinion. But he knew Tifa's was distressed by the abandonment of her friends, and he worried about her. Telling his mom he was going to make sure Tifa was alright, he rose to his feet and followed after her, making sure to keep a stealthy distance away.

… … …

"Congratulations on winning the race, Thomas."

Cloud shifted quietly behind the large trunk of a spruce, just meters from Tifa and that numskull that she called her friend for some reason.

"Eh, it wasn't a surprise. We won last year, too."

She nodded and uncomfortable moments of silence stretched between them before the girl found her voice again.

"Hey, Thomas…I wanted to say I'm sorry if there's something I've done to make you upset with me. I'm your friend...did I hurt you that day in my back yard? Or w-was it that time you…tried to kiss me?"

Cloud's eyes widened. He had tried to kiss her? What nerve! The blonde clenched his fists as an unfamiliar feeling surged in his blood. Jealousy? Anger? Anxiety? He wasn't sure.

"I really thought you were smarter than you are, Tifa. I mean, what would you want with that pale headed whore's boy, anyway? You hang around him more than with me."

"What? Cloud is—"

"What's so special about him? I hope it's something real good, because you'll live a peasant's life with that boy!"

From his hiding place, Cloud bristled with anger. How dare Thomas insult his mother! He hadn't talked to her a day in his life, how did he know anything about the woman who had raised him with her gentle voice and kind smile? He could handle the nitwit insulting him; he had done it for years. But his mother was off limits!

"He's my best friend…and his mother is nice and generous. Why do you speak so lowly of them, anyway?"

"Are you blind? They're riffraff and the whole village knows it. Heck, even your drunkard father knows it! You're not the same, Tifa. No, maybe you've always been like that—a freak just like them."

There was silence as Tifa stiffened. Anger bloomed in Cloud's chest and it took all of his control not to leap out from his hiding place and slug that arrogant face! His fists tightened and he held his breath until he heard Tifa's shaky voice break the stillness.

"I see…"

"Go home, Tifa. I don't want to spend my last week here being followed around by you. Mom says you're gonna end up and old maid."

His last week? Thomas was leaving? Cloud's silent prayer of many years had been answered in a mere sentence.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was tight with thinly veiled emotion.

"I've got an apprenticeship in Junon. My old man set me up with a glass grinder out there. I'm finally gettin' out of this place."

"Oh…good luck, Thomas."

There was crunching of twigs underfoot as Thomas turned to leave. Cloud peeked out from behind the tree, watching the back of Tifa's head as the bully headed in the direction of the river. She was frozen there in the still summer air, holding her breath as the cicadas sang in the trees. Thomas's voice rang out one last time through the grove.

"Don't wish me luck. You're the one who needs it."

… … …

Her sandals kept snagging on twigs as Cloud led her hastily down the forest path. He had started acting strangely after their picnic by the river. When she asked if he was alright, Cloud had avoided her question and asked if she'd like to go swimming. After helping to pack up Claudia's blanket and basket, Tifa let him lead her to their favorite spot by the stream. He was stiff and quiet, almost seeming angry, his fingers laced tightly between hers. Her mind was far from her body as Tifa stumbled along behind Cloud, barely registering her surroundings as the wooded world flew past her.

Inside her chest, her heart was heavy and broken from continuous rejection. Papa was right: even Thomas knew that no one would ever want to marry her. Was she really going to end up as an old maid? Tifa had never been a vain child, but even she didn't want to look at her swelling, awkward body anymore. Not only did she have unladylike interests like fighting—now she wasn't even nice to look at. In only three years, she'd be expected to explore her options when it came to marriage. If no one wanted her, she faced the dreaded fate of staying trapped in her father's house indefinitely unless she could somehow find a way to make enough money to justify emancipation. Her vision of a loving husband and a little baby of her own evaporated and was replaced with the image of endless days of hiding in the eerie stillness of her once happy home. The thought drew tight knots in her chest and made her eyes sting, but she swallowed her misery. Tifa was getting very practiced at hiding these feelings until she was alone. Only then would she let them escape, in the solitude of her dark bedroom.

Cloud slowed, and she glanced up. He had taken her to a small pond downstream of their usual meeting place. A drop of sweat slid down her temple and she gave him a weary smile.

"If you wanted to go swimming, we could've just stayed at the riverbank like everyone else," Tifa said, smiling wearily.

Her friend turned to face her with an unfamiliar seriousness, "We aren't like everyone else."

Cloud stripped off his shirt and boots to wade into the water. Tifa had worn her bathing dress under her yellow frock for this very purpose. Swimming was one of her favorite activities, especially on a sweltering August day like this, and she grasped at the fabric to pull her frock over her head when she paused. Cloud had already dipped beneath the surface, and Tifa watched as he popped up again in the waist deep water. His body had grown long and lean, though she had never taken the time to really look before. Now a teenager, she could see tiny muscles beginning to swell in his arms and chest. His jaw grew more sharply defined as his soft cheeks disappeared. Cloud was no longer the boney boy of their childhood. Even his voice was changing! Slowly, he was beginning to morph into a man. Her friend seemed more confident in himself than he ever had.

"Aren't you coming in?" he held out a hand to her.

She hesitantly removed her frock to reveal her white bathing dress, covering her chest with one arm while taking his hand. Unlike Cloud, the changes she was enduring made her more insecure than ever. Her tiny breasts must be strange looking compared the full bosom of a grown woman, and Tifa wanted to hide any of her imperfections. Giving the villagers any other reason to gossip about her would only make her life harder and her father angrier. Cloud was her closest companion—what if he saw the unfamiliar softness of her hips and the budding of her chest and felt strange around her? Thomas was right: she wasn't the same, and she couldn't bear the thought of Cloud discovering this fact and losing interest in her friendship.

Tifa met his eyes and he smiled encouragingly. She submitted as Cloud lead her slowly out into the water. In her head, she heard his words of comfort from a muggy, terrible night two years ago.

"I'm right here, you aren't alone."

She gasped quietly as the cool water washed over her hips and navel, bathing dress trailing behind her. Smiling, Tifa decided that she could trust Cloud to keep his promise, no matter how much she changed.

… … …

Quietly, the master watched the apprentice, observing her fluidity as she practiced the kanku sho kata.

At fifty eight years old, Master Zangan had seen many things in his life. He had been born with an incessant itch to travel, to explore, to experience and to learn. Since he could walk, he had been taught the art of self-defense by his father and older brothers, using it as a way to make a living once he grew old enough to be independent. In the forty seven years since he left his birth place in the grasslands near Junon harbor, he had taken on over one hundred students around the world. Most had begun their training as children and endured intense lessons for a short amount of time before Zangan got restless and migrated to settle in a new place. After several years of teaching a spirited, raven haired pupil in the oppressive humidity of Gongaga's rainforests, he had decided to head north to the refreshing briskness of the mountain air and a new apprentice. Routine, as usual.

However, Tifa's situation was anything but normal, and for the first time in his life Master Zangan was unsure about how to act. He had begun to suspect some tension in the girl's family life when she'd be nervous to ask her father for necessities like clothes or footwear, and how she often seemed reluctant to go home. Zangan's suspicions were all but confirmed when he'd spot small bruises on Tifa's wrists and along the hem of her collar. Last winter, there had also been a purple bruise on her cheek. When he had asked what happened, she had nervously replied that she had been hit in the face during a snowball fight. But her master knew better.

"Hyah!" the girl cried out at the appropriate time of the exercise, performing swift and disciplined moves she had memorized to perfection.

Brian Lockhart had stopped paying for her lessons two years ago after he had angrily confronted him, shouting about how it had been his fault that the villagers knew about Tifa's training—something they had agreed to keep secret. Tifa wasn't told about any of that and he kept instructing her as if nothing happened. There was guilt in Zangan's heart. If he hadn't broken the stiff local customs by taking on a female apprentice, maybe Tifa wouldn't be enduring her current situation. The child hadn't understood the repercussions of stepping out of social norm each time she had asked to be taught; would she understand the reason behind her isolation? He had made the mistake of assuming she would've grown tired of martial arts in a week or two, but she wouldn't give up after all this time. Zangan admired her spirit.

"Good girl. Feel each movement in every muscle; let everything flow from your core."

He saw her close her eyes in concentration, slowing her movements just enough to focus on grace and strength. Out of every student he'd had, he felt Tifa could use the training to center her mind. Although resilient in her own way, the trials she faced would require a strong understanding of her own self-worth to endure. But there had to be more he could do to save the girl from a life of abuse and emptiness, right? Where did the line between teacher and parent begin to blur? This was a situation that needed to be approached with utmost care.

The tremendously conservative nature of Nibelheim had shocked him at first, but what should he have suspected from such a remote place? The isolated little cluster of villages in the area seemed to be forgotten by time, slowly catching up to modern conveniences. However, the local customs and values took even longer to progress. Zangan knew that reporting Tifa's abuse may not bring about any positive results. But it had to be addressed, even if it was just to give her some reassurance. When Tifa had finished her kata, he praised the elegance of her performance and asked her to sit in front of him. He asked for her hand and his student complied, inquiry flashing in her eyes. Zangan turned her palm upwards and gently ran his fingers over the pale bruises on her wrist. She stiffened instantly.

"Your father is struggling, Tifa. But you shouldn't suffer for it, my dear," he said softly.

Tifa's silence told him all he needed to know. He let the girl draw back her hand and she hung her head low to the earth, hair falling over her face.

"Forgive me, Master. I lied to you." His sharp eyes noticed the tremble in her frame.

"Tifa, look at me." Hesitantly, she complied. "Thank you for being honest with me. None of this is your fault. "

The girl fought to keep her expression neutral as she nodded, but Zangan knew her like the back of his hand. She didn't believe him at all.

"W-what are you going to do? Please…don't tell anyone."

The man considered his options. At this point in time, the martial arts master was a highly respected individual due to his age, experience, and protection from the increasing number of monsters descending from Mt. Nibel in recent years. Commenting to others on the household of another man would be taken as unnecessary meddling. The old man worried that extreme retaliation by Brian could end up with him turning Tifa out of his home or forbidding him from continuing to teach her. That wouldn't do.

The villagers had mostly turned a blind eye towards Brian's increasing withdrawal from social functions and tendency to drink with friends well into the night. At first, their pity for the broken Lockhart family had shielded him and Tifa from critical eyes. But now that four years had passed since Lia's death, the gossip about the drunkard man and his strange daughter were whispered about constantly. Zangan knew Tifa was skilled enough to defend herself from her father's abuse—it was her love, loyalty and respect that kept her submissive. Confronting her father would be a breach of social formalities that he would risk if he thought it would really help her, but there was no way of knowing if he'd do more harm than good.

There was really only one thing he could do.

"Worry not; you are in control. Whenever you face such hardships, remember what I taught you about centering your mind. Rest in the knowledge of your strength and your worth and find serenity there," Zangan said, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

"I'm here, Tifa."

… … …

There was a crowd in the lobby the inn. Cloud had come for the same reason as the rest of them—Mr. Taylor had purchased a large television shipped all the way from the city! It was strange for anyone in the area to be able to afford such a luxury. Most houses in Nibelheim still didn't have basic electric amenities and when they did, it was used for little more than lamps or electric ice boxes. He was shocked when Tifa had told him about the it, excitement twinkling in her eyes. She had said she'd sit next to him tonight. Cloud had heard of a television before and knew that he could see video of the things he heard about on the radio. There was supposed to be a news broadcast at seven in the evening. The open windows did little to ease the summer heat combined with the stuffy air of the tightly packed room.

Claudia chose to take a seat along the wall and her son slipped in beside her. His dinner churned in his stomach. Since last week's boat race, he hadn't been able to get Thomas's words out of his head. His bullies always seemed to have something to say about his mother or lack of a father. The village was never very warm towards Claudia and he was beginning to put the pieces together to why that was so. He wasn't deaf to the hushed, crude conversations the older boys had at school (though he couldn't help crinkling his nose with disgust) and now had some sort of understanding about how he came to be born. For the first time in his life Cloud was becoming quite curious about the person who Mom had loved. He wanted to ask her about what kind of man his father really was, but his words always held fast in his throat.

"Oh! They've turned it on, Cloud!" Claudia said, nudging him excitedly.

The crowd's chatter quieted in order to hear the broadcast. Once in a while, the faulty Nibelheim electricity would flicker, making the screen blink. A monotone male voice narrated some happenings from around the world, eventually updating the spectators on the war. Cloud's gaze didn't waver from the television once Sephiroth was mentioned, but thoughts of the hero made his mind wander. Thomas had begun to bully Tifa, too—berating her only living parent as well and he wanted so badly to protect her from that torment. Cloud had been thinking about what it meant to be a man. It had frightened him when he realized that he had no mentor in this area. In a few years, he was supposed to get married. He couldn't imagine being married to anyone but Tifa, but there was no way Mr. Lockhart would ever allow that.

How could he be a good husband if he never had his dad around to teach him? How could he be a good parent if he never had a chance to see how a proper father should act? The men in the village hunted for meat for their families, while all he could do was fish. They worked for a living in their various trades then came home to play with their children. Cloud couldn't learn a trade from his deceased father and he'd barely ever seen a baby, aside from his teacher's little daughter. Would Mom even understand if he tried to ask her about this?

The whirling thoughts stopped when he saw video Sephiroth on screen in full color. The narration told of his status as a war hero and of the battles he had won singlehandedly. Cloud was enraptured with the strength of this man, a SOLDIER, first class. If he could be that strong, maybe the village would see that he was worthy of their attention and approval. Maybe then, he would be worthy of having Tifa as his bride one day. For as far back as he could remember Cloud could never imagine facing life without her by his side.

"He's so cool!"

"How did he get so strong?"

"Look at that sword!"

The boys were chatting amongst themselves, pointing at the screen with glee. Thomas had left for Junon the day before, leaving Jason and Jim content to ignore him—that was fine with him. There'd be less fighting now that their ring leader was gone. The kids let out a collective groan when the video switched to a shot of President Shinra. No longer transfixed by the silver haired warrior, Cloud let his gaze shift around the room.

Tifa had never come.