CHAPTER 49: GRIT AND MERIT
Living in the slums of Midgar could be hard and unforgiving, but Tifa was grateful for every moment under Barret's roof. She never voiced her fear of being turned out, and he never mentioned anything about overstaying her welcome.
For two years, she floated on and blocked out the memory of any life before she came to live with him and his little girl. Reminiscing, even when unintentional, sent a raging river of emotion washing through her, weighing her down like a stone. Happy, sunlight filled days of childhood were so far away; the future she saw then had shone much brighter than anything she could imagine ahead of her now. So Tifa chose to wrap her memories up, neatly folding them away in a forbidden part of her mind, in a desperate attempt to erase her slate and start over. She couldn't be disappointed in the present if she had no pleasant recollections of a past life or lofty dreams to fall short of.
It took concentration to keep her focus on the future; it was much too costly to keep looking over her shoulder. How could she swim to the surface if she let her past drag her into the depths? With Marlene's chubby fists gripping her clothing, she could turn away from the burning agony of Aria's quiet death. With Barret's kindness and generosity, she was distracted from the suffocating grief that seeped from the gaping hole Cloud had left in her heart. Once in a while the dark hands of sorrow would grasp at her limbs and pull her back into her torment, but as weeks and months passed Tifa was getting better at turning her attention towards the future. Barret taught her that one couldn't advance when wading around in misery, and she had unnerving memories of Papa as a testament to that proof.
Papa was an empty man. That emptiness inside him had swallowed up the kindness and love and light she had shown him, never reflecting it back. She couldn't be like that.
When her mother died, Tifa had come to terms with it as time went by. But back then, she had had Cloud, Claudia, and Zangan to guide her and boost her confidence. Without those dearest to her by her side, it was impossible to accept the loss of her husband and daughter. She didn't have the bravery to face such heavy sadness alone, and so Tifa buried it deeper and deeper within her to focus on other things. Her muscles deteriorated and skills had dulled from disuse and she felt heavy with hopelessness, exhausted from all the years and their small victories and overwhelming misfortunes. It had been raining for so long in her life that all of her best attributes had turned to rust.
But that had to change; she couldn't remain as a shadow that wanders the endless dark.
Tifa trained her body as Marlene napped or was otherwise occupied, practicing her katas and exercises to rebuild the muscles and skills that she seldom visited since she had left her master. Not only did working out serve as a distraction, but one needed to be tough to survive in the slums. Tifa was determined to be able to protect Marlene when they were out and about, which was often these days. Equally important was the intention of joining AVALANCHE. Following Barret's example, she traded sorrow for rage and misery for revenge. ShinRA had ended the lives of those dearest to her, leaving her choking on the ashes of what could have been. If there was something she could do to cripple them, and help the planet in the meantime, Tifa would do it. These days, her secret thoughts were bitter and heated, blowing the embers of her spirit into a crackling flame.
Seeking privacy, Barret had started holding AVALANCHE meetings once a week in their shoebox of an apartment. They came in the evenings, twice per month, and Tifa would greet the crew and serve them something to drink before slipping away with the baby. At first, she was frightened, thinking that these people would be gruff and angry, like most of the people in the city were, and tried to stay out of the way. She kept Marlene occupied, but now that she was walking and talking some, it was easier said than done. Thankfully, the curious toddler was just about ready for bed by the time Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie came to call and Tifa could whisk Marlene off to the bedroom. She'd lay down beside the little girl, listening to the sound of her deep breathing as she slept and delicately stroking her soft brown hair. Tifa had passed so many hours of so many nights buried in Claudia's quilt in the dark, listening to their friendly banter and the serious planning that followed.
She didn't know much about the AVALANCHE trio at first, but she collected snippets of conversations like coins in a jar, putting these strangers together piece by piece. Some long lost part of her began to overcome fear and shyness, and Tifa found herself yearning to reach out to them. Barret never forbid her from being around them or coming out of the bedroom during a meeting (he never forbade her from doing anything except joining AVALANCHE), but she chose to stay tucked away, straining her ears and pretending like she could be part of them, too. If she could somehow prove her worthiness to Barret—make him see that she wasn't just a lost soul—maybe her chest wouldn't feel as empty as it did. Tifa imagined how wonderful it would feel to avenge her family, shedding grief like a snake skin, and finally feeling like she had made something of herself in this world.
The name, AVALANCHE, rolled fondly off her tongue. She remembered the day Papa had broken his leg and how in awe she had been of the power of moving earth. Avalanches brought devastation, wreckage, and ruin. If together, they could bring such a powerful torrent of destruction upon ShinRA, that terrible company could feel just a fraction of the pain she felt. Tifa longed to suck away their power and livelihood, leaving them as grey and dead as their mako extraction had made Mt. Nibel. All of the negativity from her loneliness, sadness, guilt and regret manifested themselves in the bitterness that burned behind crimson eyes. ShinRA would suffer, and she'd be there to help make it happen.
Until then, all she could do was take life one day at a time. Making hearty, home cooked meals and beating her makeshift punching bag made her strength return. Barret was kind, praising her, encouraging her, and buying her clothing and other small necessities. Her heart swelled when Marlene clung to her legs and felt complete when the baby cried in the night, only calming when it was Tifa who held her. On hot summer days, they'd spend a few extra gil on ice cream, which Tifa had never had before, much to Barret's delight. On cold winter nights, the three of them would huddle together in their heap of blankets. She'd listen to Barret tell her stories of his days in the coal mines as Marlene drifted to sleep in her lap. It was strange: a teenage girl living with an adult man and a little girl, but it was home now and that was all that mattered.
… … …
"Is that the place? That little one on the corner?"
Barret looked over the newspaper clipping once more before nodding. "Yeah, that's the one."
It was a tiny cottage on in a quiet area of Sector Seven. The newspaper ad had made it seem much larger, making the requested rent amount seem more reasonable than it actually was. They had no choice but to try and apply to rent the place: it was the only building of a respectable size in their measly budget. It was the last day of the open house, so they had taken the train through the slums to catch a glimpse of the place while they still could. Barret wanted something with at least two bedrooms and enough space to serve as an AVALANCHE headquarters of sorts. Jessie's equipment required more space than their current housing arrangement allowed, and Tifa and Marlene deserved their own bedroom. The toddler was growing quickly and Barret wanted something better for her: some space for her to run and stretch her little legs and a home that didn't resemble an over packed shoe box.
A real estate agent greeted them as they opened the door. She was a thin woman with her hair tied back in a tight bun, touting a clip board in her manicured hands. The woman showed them around, walking them through the living room, kitchen, then upstairs to the tiny bedrooms and bathroom before returning to the ground floor. Barret's grin told Tifa all she needed to know. When he disappeared with the agent into the study at the back of the house, Tifa put Marlene down and let her explore.
"Ti Ti!"
"Yes, Baby?"
She toddled over to a large piece of furniture against the wall, draped over almost completely with a fabric covering. With a giggle, Marlene crawled underneath. "I'm hidin!'"
Tifa turned around to see the toe of one little shoe peeking out from under the draped cloth. She gasped in mock surprise.
"Uh oh, where did she go?" Slowly, she walked around the room. "Is she behind the curtains? Is she under the coffee table? Did she hide beneath the rug?"
Quietly, she bent beside Marlene's hiding place, stealthily curling her fingers on the hem of the furniture cover. Pulling it upward with a sudden movement, Tifa roared as she exposed the girl's hiding spot. The baby shrieked and crawled away, but Tifa was frozen in place, mesmerized by what she had discovered. What she had thought was a sideboard or cabinet was actually an old piano. Slowly standing, she ran her fingers over a dusty key. An endless flood of memories threatened to rush in, but they weren't welcome and she suppressed them, erecting her dam and closing off the part of her mind as best she could.
"Oooh, look!" Marlene ran back, tiny shoes scuffing along the hardwood. "What's that?"
"It's…a piano. It makes music."
To demonstrate, she gently pushed on a key. Marlene's big brown eyes widened with awe as the sound softly spread throughout the room. She quickly broke into a grin, tugging on Tifa's pant leg.
"Again!"
Giggling after each time a note sounded, the baby asked for Tifa to continue again and again. With a soft sigh, the older girl smiled. "Alright, but only if you dance!"
"'Kay!"
She inhaled, resting her fingers in position and willing a long forgotten skill to return. A happy squeak sounded from Marlene when Tifa suddenly began to play. Slender fingers gracefully brought to life the jauntiest rondo she could remember, sending the carefree tune bouncing through the stale air of the old cottage. Enthralled, the baby jumped and skipped, her little laugh tinkling through the air like a merry little bell. She twirled about in the clumsy way toddlers do, captivated by the way the skirt of her dress plumed outward as she spun. Marlene loved that little yellow dress, which Tifa had artfully pieced together with some fabric scraps and an old sheet. She spent many dull afternoons embroidering tiny pink flowers on each pleat.
Tifa craned her head around to watch as she danced, committing to memory the way her smile turned up those chubby cheeks and made her brown eyes squint with glee. The joy of having Marlene in her life lifted years from Tifa's eyes and chased the weariness from her bones. The light radiating off of the little girl helped Tifa scrape up pieces of joy scattered throughout the days. Like that little yellow dress, she sewed them together, creating a protective cloak of patchwork happiness that she could hide within when unwelcome memories knocked at the door. For now, it was enough.
She stopped playing suddenly when the heard the door to the study click open and Barret's heavy footsteps. Marlene may have pouted at the abrupt lack of music if she hadn't been so excited to tell him about the instrument.
"Dada! Look!" She ran to him, wrapping her tiny fingers around one of his large ones. "Music!"
Barret humored the baby and feigned interest in the piano, but Tifa could instantly see that things hadn't gone as planned. The adults took turns thanking each other for their time before Barret, Tifa and Marlene stepped back out onto the dirty street. The tension in Barret's shoulders told her all she needed to know.
"She turned us down, didn't she?" Tifa reached a hand out to rest it on her friend's shoulder.
"Yeah," he snorted, scooping up Marlene. "Askin' too much for a deposit an' her realtor's fee was ridiculous! Back in Corel, you could buy a giant house with the kinda money they're talkin'. All these damn fees and she warned that the rent would go up after the end of a one year lease. We don't got that kinda giI."
Tifa followed alongside him as the man marched in the direction of the train station, mumbling about losing another whole day on the fruitless mission of finding a new home. She felt so powerless. Even though she had refused taking payment from Barret years ago, she wished that she could help him earn a living. Maybe if she could watch Marlene during the day and work at night once Barret came home, TIfa could finally feel useful and worthy of the precious security she had these days. Experience had taught her that here weren't many respectable jobs she could get without a high school diploma, and after what had happened last time she was afraid to try to waitress again. Any time she brought up the idea to Barret, he'd snort and shake his head before asking if she was a glutton for punishment. The truth was that she wanted to help their financial security. Tifa yearned to show Barret that his kindness wasn't taken for granted. Every time she tried to express her gratefulness, she always felt like it wasn't enough to show how much it meant to her.
Barret had saved her life, in more ways than one, and she'd be forever grateful.
Marlene didn't seem to be discouraged by the situation. She turned this way and that in Barret's arms, waving and smiling and calling out to most people they passed. Her merry, sing song voice was such a contrast to the grey world around her, like a brightly colored bird singing amidst a gloomy fog. It was fascinating to watch Marlene develop from an infant into a small human being with her own personality and unique characteristics. As a baby, she had been tired and cranky (until her body recovered thanks to the goat's milk). Her big brown eyes had first mirrored Tifa's uncertainty, but as time passed she was able to see the baby's true nature emerge. Now that she was two years old, Marlene was joyful and ambitious, hoping to spread her happiness to everyone she saw. Tifa couldn't help but wonder what Aria's personality would have been. Would she have danced to the piano or would she have shyly clung to her mother's leg? Would she prefer apple to Marlene's favorite snack of banana? Would she have lost those golden highlights in her light brown hair as she aged? It was impossible to know these things, but Tifa still felt like a bad mother for knowing so little about her own child.
Forcefully, she tore herself from those thoughts and focused on the street. Aside from the rush hour foot traffic of people heading to and from the train station, this area of Sector Seven seemed to be quite calm and full of residential buildings instead of clustered businesses of Sector Four. Tifa glanced at the assortment of dilapidated houses lining the dirt road. They were all dull in color, made of warping wood or crudely constructed tin or metal siding. Before she moved here, she could never have imagined such a place, since it was so different from the red roofs and white washed walls of her vibrant hometown. Nibelheim seemed like a distant memory; it was like a guilty pleasure that was hard to abstain from indulging in. Nothing good would ever come from longing for her past, and so she pushed and pushed to keep the memories safely shut away.
Tifa thought that repressing these things would get easier as time went by, but keeping it all to herself made her feel like an ever inflating balloon. She didn't want to think of the possibility of popping and losing all of the progress she thought she'd made. Besides, if Barret knew the details of her life, would he suddenly decide that she wasn't worth the trouble of keeping around? If she told him that she had been responsible for getting her mother sick, driving her father into despair, and being unable to give life to her daughter, could he ever find any value in her aside from Marlene's babysitter? She wanted to be more to him. She wanted to be close friends and a partner in AVALANCHE. If he saw how ugly she really was beneath her desperation and sadness, Tifa was sure he'd fire her on the spot. Would he really want someone like her influencing Marlene? And so, she made sure to swallow every haunting memory and painful thought, praying that he'd never ask too much about her past.
"The hell's goin' on over there?"
Tifa raised her eyes to find what Barret had seen. They were almost to the train station when they saw a large group of people gathered in front of a building. It was a two story structure made of splintering wood and some haphazardly laid bricks. Despite its somewhat sloppy appearance, it seemed sturdy and was one of the largest buildings on the block. There was a burly man on the wrap-around porch, facing the crowd. His biceps bulged as he stood with his hands on his hips, his thick beard splitting where his teeth flashed in a grin.
"Aren't any of you brave enough? Come on! Show me a challenge!"
Curious, Tifa turned to walk toward the people. To her surprise, Barret followed. She tapped a man on the shoulder once she was standing on the edge of the crowd.
"Excuse me, do you know what's going on?"
"Owen is sellin' his bar, but he doesn't want money for it. He's lookin' for the thrill of throwing his weight around and wants to fight someone for it."
"You mean, like a fist fight?"
"I guess so."
She had heard of unorthodox things like this happening in the slums. Cloud used to tell her stories of the strange situations hed happened upon during patrol, but she'd never seen very much of it first-hand. Maybe this was the saving grace they were looking for? Tifa turned to smile at Barret, who frowned as he read her thoughts. "If you think I'm going up there, you've got another thing comin'!"
"The place certainly looks big enough to live in. If it's an old bar, I can cook food and serve customers to help you make money! Come on, Barret! You're just as big as he is!"
"If he's basically giving this place away to anyone that can beat 'em in a fight, it must be a piece a'shit."
A challenger approached, and the crowd surged with excitement. Owen's opponent was a lean young man with wiry muscle and short black hair. They decided to fight right there on the wide porch, and everyone watched as the he took hit after hit, seemingly intimidated by Owen's size and agility. Tifa memorized the larger man's attack pattern.
Jab. Jab. Hook. Jab. Jab. Hook.
She bit her cheek to keep from crying out of frustration as the young man failed to block, failed to yield when struck, and failed to catch himself when he fell—all elementary lessons as far as she was concerned. Owen was fast for his large size, but Tifa knew of a dozen ways to take him down. He was swift, but Tifa knew that she was swifter: in body and in mind.
It wasn't long before the young man gave up, enduring Owen's triumphant cackle as he walked away with a bloody nose, cradling his injured shoulder.
"Who's next?!" Owen boomed in a show of arrogance and braun.
Tifa turned to flick her eyes up to search Barret's face. He looked back at her with a hard face, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. If there was one thing he hated, it was arrogance. If there was a chance he could knock this guy off his pedestal, he would! And a big place to live would be a huge bonus.
"Can we at least ask about it?" Tifa asked.
Barret huffed, keeping his stubborn frown. "Fine."
He shoved Marlene into her arms as he barreled through the crowd, Tifa following closely behind in the path he cleared. She could feel dozens of pairs of eyes upon them as they marched up to the porch steps. Tifa halted at the bottom step as Barret strode forward, purpose and pride in his posture.
"Think you got what it takes big guy? Entry fee to fight me is five hundred gil." The man grinned and took of puff of his cigarette before looking Barret over from head to toe. "Wait-you're disqualified! Use of a weapon is against the rules."
"I don't need no weapon to kick your ass!"
"Unless you can detach it, I ain't fightin' you! So turn around and go back where you came from."
"I'm not gonna use it. You have my word!"
"I don't trust your word!" Owen snapped, twirling his finger to cue Barret to turn around. "Come back tomorrow without your gun attachment or it looks like you're outta luck, pal."
Tifa was sure if Barret got any angrier, steam would come out of his ears. Seeing his muscles tense and his jaw tighten with rage, she stepped forward and grasped his arm. "Come on, Barret. Forget him, he's not worth it."
"I can't just let him talk to me like that!"
"You can and you will!" Tifa tugged his arm so that he spun to meet her smiling face. "Don't worry, I've got a plan."
... ... ...
"Please, Barret!"
"Are you crazy? He's three times your size!"
She had pleaded with him since they'd boarded the train back home, over their dinner of canned soup and well into the night. Barret couldn't understand why this girl would walk so willingly into injury and humiliation. Tifa was always willing and ready to help with anything, but this is where he drew the line. He had no idea where she got the notion that she could do any damage against a burly oaf like Owen, but her tiny physique had him doubtful and his protective instinct forced him to refuse any serious consideration of her request. However, it didn't seem to deter her. Hour after hour, she politely petitioned her desire to fight for the dilapidated bar. He was a bit perplexed, since Tifa rarely ever expressed want for anything, and certainly never carried on about it like she was doing now.
Marlene had been put to sleep hours ago. The pair sat on the worn couch: Tifa's knees were curled up to her chest with her back pressed against the armrest and Barret was sunken into the cushion on the other side, slouching with fatigue from the day's work and arguing with his babysitter.
"I know I can take him! We need this, Barret. We could fix that place up and run a business to support us and AVALANCHE. We'd have a place to ourselves and more room for meetings!"
He looked her head on and took in her scrawny limbs. The lean muscle he found there didn't inspire much confidence in him. It was so strange that Tifa, who seemed to have such little confidence in herself in almost every aspect, suddenly thought she could fight and win against a large brawler. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.
"You're gonna get hurt and I'm gonna be responsible. We'll keep lookin' for a place…"
"But we've been looking for months and we can't afford what we need. I can do this. I know I can."
Her eyes found his and demanded understanding. It occurred to Tifa that this involved two great risks. One was that if she could convince Barret to let her try, there was a precious five hundred gil at stake. The other risk was that in revealing her fighting abilities, he could ask where she had learned these things, and Tifa was afraid to give up such information. She had started anew, here with Barret. Thinking of what was before was unbearable, speaking about it was inconceivable. Not only would her heart be bleeding, but she would be revealing just how wretched she was, and Tifa couldn't bear that. Could she trust that he'd still care about her?
She had to. Barret had done so much for her that if she could do even one small thing to help him, it would be done in a heartbeat. Now this large possibility loomed before them, and she couldn't back down. Not only could she help out a dear friend, but perhaps proving her worth in this way could convince Barret to let her join AVALANCHE!
"I know it seems strange, but I can fight. I can win, Barret!"
Barret rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and let out a breath. "Why are you so sure y'can take on that jackass an' beat 'em?"
"Because...because I grew up learning martial arts. I trained under my master for years, practicing on monsters and the like." Crimson eyes flicked downward to study her scarred knuckles. "I studied his movements when we watched him today. I'm confident I could defeat him."
"How come you never said nothin' 'bout being a martial artist?"
"You've never asked."
He fixed her with a mock scowl as he ran his fingers over his short, dark beard. A brief silence stretched out between them, and Tifa fixed unwavering eyes upon him. She hoped he would say something, anything, to quell the anxiety rising in her chest. Did he think it was improper of a lady to have such a skill? Would it change their relationship now that he knew?
Finally, he spoke.
"It's a lot of gil for the entry free, you know."
"I know. I have three hundred left in my savings, that's it. I'm willing to use it if you can let me borrow the rest." She shifted where she sat, leaning closer to him. "Do you trust me, Barret?"
Tifa wasn't used to asking such direct questions. Her face was growing hot and her fingers clenched and unclenched in her restlessness. Barret remained still, staring at the wall, before slowly turning his head to look at her. Defeated, his shoulders sagged and a dramatic sigh escaped his mouth.
"I trust you, little lady."
With a small, relieved laugh, Tifa grinned. "Alright! I promise, I won't let you down!"
"But if he lands one hit, I'm draggin' you outta there. You hear me?"
They settled down in their makeshift beds for the night. Tifa was tired, but could barely close her eyes with excitement. Long after Barret began to snore, she lay awake, staring into the blackness. This was her chance to prove herself! She could finally use what she spent so many years learning to help the people she cared about! After the devastation she had experienced, she was finally starting to feel a bit secure. No longer was she floating in space, hopelessly grasping at nothing without gravity to keep her grounded. Barret seemed happy to keep her around, and they had built a friendship out of loneliness and pity. But she loved him, like she loved Master Zangan, like she had loved her own father, and hoped that he held her in the same value. Marlene looked at her like she would her mother, and Tifa's heart sang with each show of affection from the little girl. She had this little rag tag family going for her, didn't she? Surely she could face tomorrow's fight with confidence that, no matter what happened, she'd be alright.
... ... ...
The crowd was smaller today, Tifa noticed.
Owen was back on his porch throne, mocking the gathering of people and demanding a challenge. It wasn't until this moment, as she cut through the crowd, that she felt nervous about the whole ordeal. But with Barret at her back, and so much riding on this opportunity, she couldn't let fear get the best of her. She waded through the indistinct murmurs of the people, trying with all her might to keep herself from succumbing to her trembling heart. She could do this. Fighting this man would be a piece of cake compared to her master or the monsters on Mt. Nibel, but it had been so long since she had sparred with anyone else that she couldn't help her uneasiness. Master Zangan's voice called out to her from a long buried place in her mind, telling her that she would never win if she focused on her doubts instead of victory. She clenched her fists, snug in her leather fighting gloves, and steeled herself before climbing the porch steps. When the crowd saw her, chuckles and muffled laughter rippled among them. She centered her mind, letting the jeers and cackles bounce off her as she locked eyes with Owen.
"Well, well, well! What do we have here?" he snickered. "You're the first little girl to challenge me! Shouldn't you be in school? Turn around, sweetheart! I don't fight children."
"I'm eighteen. I'm no child."
She watched the spit fly from his mouth as he bellowed, laughing theatrically. No smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she calmly endured his ridicule. Tifa continued to watch as Owen tried to rile up his audience, pointing out her tiny hands and feet, lean limbs and young face. Before long, she tossed a small satchel of gil at his feet.
"Enough, Owen. Here's the gil for the entry fee."
Despite his surprise, he bent to pick it up and counted it in front her. "You're serious about this?"
Tifa stretched the muscles in her arms in response, closing her eyes in concentration. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly as she moved into a fighting stance: hands raised to guard her face, knees bent, weight forward on the balls of her feet, head lowered.
"Dead serious."
The crowd whooped with excitement, and Owen fixed his face with a cocky grin. "Alright! Don't come crying back to me when I knock your pretty teeth out."
Wooden boards creaked beneath her as she shifted her weight and she held her breath as she waited for him to strike first. When he did, it was lightning fast. The punch was aimed at her face. She felt his fist swish past her skin as she tumbled forward, dodging and swinging out her legs to try to kick his out from under him. He seemed to predict this and swung his torso around towards her, reaching out and catching a handful of her black hair. Using the momentum from her sweep at his legs, she spun, arcing her back and sending her right leg upward to collide with his jaw.
He staggered back, the shock causing him to let go of her hair. Owen raised his hand to where she had struck, slack jawed and wide eyed. The man bristled with anger and embarrassment; he had learned the hard way that there was a surprising amount of force behind her delicate looking limbs.
"Why you little-!"
He approached again with a cross punch, aimed for the side of her head. Tifa admired his speed, but his movements became more and more sloppy as he tried to outpace her. After fighting with the swift and agile master Zangan, Owen's movements seemed clumsy and elementary. He continued aggressing her, sending out punch after punch in a flurry of meaty fists. She panted as she dodged, for as easily as she could read his movements, she was still out of practice. The relatively confined space of the porch made her feel claustrophobic and trapped. Tifa tried her best to center her mind and focus of Owen and how she could make the best of her environment.
Jab. Jab. Hook. Jab. Jab. Hook.
Anticipating the opening he left behind when he threw his right hook, Tifa dodged and swung her leg in a powerful roundhouse kick, grunting as the heel of her boot collided with his neck. With a roar of shock and pain, Owen crashed to the wooden floor boards, shaking the porch with the force of his impact.
"You little bitch!" He snarled as he jumped to his feet. "I'll kill you!"
She heard Barret cheering for her among the sea of voices and it gave her the nerve to continue. Someone believed in her, despite the many things about her that made her feel like she had no value. So much was riding on this! She couldn't let Barret, Marlene and AVALANCHE down! Adrenaline and courage coursed through her veins as she stood at the ready, waiting for her opponent to bear down on her again. When he did, she was ready. He advanced in a barrage of attacks, feet and fists striking out again and again. Tifa blocked as many of the blows as she could, her arms jarring in their sockets every time she did, narrowly dodging injury every time she didn't. She panted with effort, fatigue starting to pull at her muscles, despite the adrenaline surge. The porch railing was almost behind her now as he continuously pushed her back, cornering her against the edge of their makeshift arena.
But Tifa knew what to do. She caught a glimpse of the hate that emanated from Owen's eyes as he continued to rush her in a blur of motion. His anger blinded him and he threw caution to the wind, giving Tifa the opening she needed. She thrusted her left arm between them, turning to the side and trapping Owen's arm against his own chest before elbowing him in the face. He stumbled backward, pawing at his bleeding nose, but Tifa didn't relent. With a cry, she threw a powerful uppercut at his chin. There was a crunching sound and a spurt of blood as he grunted with the force of impact. Before he could completely recover, Owen threw a wild punch in her direction. She caught his arm and used his momentum to flip him over her head and send him hurtling through the air. Floorboards smashed into his back, forcing the air from his lungs in a rushing wheeze.
Her breath came in short puffs, taking in what she had done. Owen tried to sit up, groaning. His jaw was already starting to swell and his white teeth were bathed in crimson. She watched as he spat out a mouthful of blood and a tooth, looking at her with a stunned expression. The roar of the crowd pulled Tifa from her daze. There were cheers and laughter crackling through the air. Tifa expected Owen to try again, fueled by humiliation, but he didn't rise to his feet. He wiped a forearm across his lips, leaving a thick red smear across his bare skin.
"Freak!" He cried, slowly finding his footing. He swayed where he stood and cradled his injured face with his palm. "Get the hell away from me!"
"Not without the deed to this place," Tifa said, relaxing out of her fighting stance and holding her chin high. "I won fair and square."
Fists planted firmly on her hips, her chest swelled with a fragile sense of pride. Owen finally looked at her, the weight of defeat and embarrassment weighing down his features. Vulnerability pulsed in his brown eyes as he looked her up and down, taking in how he had lost to such a small opponent. He had felled a dozen men as large as himself, but he was helpless against a tiny young woman. She seemed more like a cat than a human being, with her impeccable balance and movements so fluid and precise. How could someone with such a childlike face and petite frame best a man like him?
"Who are you?" He asked, incredulous.
"I'm a student of the best martial arts master in the world." She commanded respect as her eyes locked with his. "My name is Tifa. Tifa Strife."
...
A/N: I almost goofed and wrote "Tifa Lockhart" at the end, haha. I really love writing little Marlene, and the contrast between Barret and Tifa's speech mannerisms. They really are such a strange little group-they're all so different! I miss writing Cloud, but Marlene and Barret are a fun replacement for now. :)
Hope you enjoyed! R&R please!