As always, big thank you to silver-doe287 for beta'ing this chapter đź’™

Enjoy!


One Year Later

This far south, the dirt was the same color as old blood. The rust-covered soil covered everything— the road, the windows, the walls, Rain's sleek coat, and Tifa's leather boots. When Tifa dismounted and began striding towards Cosmo Canyon's only bank, she left scarlet footprints in her wake.

One year had passed since the last time she had seen Cloud. One year, during which time she joined Cid's bounty hunting crew and began chasing the Simmel crew up and down the western continent. One year of the Simmels always being one step in front of her. Some days, it felt like hope was the one thing keeping her going.

It looked like hope would have to sustain her a bit longer.

"This is the place?" she asked Cid, who nodded brusquely. The earlier humor he had on the ride here was gone, replaced by the grim expression of a man heading somewhere he'd rather not. Yuffie, always by his side, was pulling a similar face. Only Vincent and Red looked relatively at ease as they strode up to the bank's tattered exterior.

The building was originally nothing fancy, but now it was little more than a ruin. Its solid-oak doors had been ripped off their hinges and lay discarded to the side, while the interior had been painted with arching sprays of red. Tifa knew better than to hope that the red was just more dirt.

"Well," Cid said after a lengthy pause, "might as well go inside."

Yuffie cringed back. "Do we have too?"

"You want to get to the bottom of this or not?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Yuffie glanced back towards the bank and grimaced without speaking further. Tifa didn't blame her. She wasn't looking forward to this particular job, either.

Vincent wordlessly took a step forward, with Red at his heel and Tifa right behind. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and when they did, she fought to keep horror off her expression. If it looked bad from the outside, then the inside looked even worse. There were bodies everywhere. Some were discarded to the side like toy dolls, while others were stacked up almost neatly, one on top of the other, like a collapsed deck of cards. Their eyes, Tifa distantly noted, had all been closed. Small mercies.

"Heavens," Cid murmured, sounding strangled. "What in the nine hells…"

Tifa felt faint as she gazed at one of the nearby bodies– a woman with a gunshot in her head, her limp hand splayed for the door. "I thought the mayor said the bank got robbed," she finally said.

"Not just robbed," Vincent said.

Yuffie gagged from the doorway, and Tifa's stomach abruptly twisted. She cast her gaze towards the ceiling, one of the few placed untouched by the carnage, to avoid being sick. It was painted with an ornate starry scene, and her eyes traced its many constellations as she pushed down her nausea.

Red sniffed the air. "This way," the wolf said, his speech warped from his elongated canines, and without another word, he lopped behind the front counter to the back vaults. After a pause Tifa went after him, figuring that any excuse to leave the lobby's bloodbath was a good one. Vincent joined while Cid and Yuffie loitered behind— doing what, she couldn't say. Spewing, most likely.

The deeper they strode into the vaults, the darker it became. It reminded Tifa of a mausoleum:; the walls were carved from hard stone, the air was cold and dry, and the vaults themselves were like sealed tombs. Most of the vaults were open, yet their insides were strangely pristine. Stacks of paper money still lined the walls while cloth bags of coins were in neat piles along the walls. Whatever Sephiroth and his gang were after, they didn't find it there.

Tifa mentally filed that insight away for later.

The short hallway eventually branched in two directions, with one path leading right while the other went left. Red tilted his nose into the air, inhaled deeply, and then padded towards the right path.

"Where are you taking us?" Tifa asked. Even though she whispered, her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet.

"It smells fresher this way," Red replied, his tone nonchalant, as if he was discussing the different ingredients in a sandwich. "I also hear noises. People, whispering."

Vincent's expression sharpened. "Survivors?" Survivors had been few and far between lately.

"Hm. Yes." Red stopped in front of one of the vaults, one of the few that had remained closed. Its heavy, circular door remained tightly locked; or at least, gave the impression of being so. He sat down on the cold tile and said, "Here."

Tifa gave the door a once-over, but it looked like all of the others. "This the one?"

"Yes. Inside."

Well, who was she to question it? Together Vincent and Tifa gripped the spoke handle and began twisting, only to abruptly realize that there was no need. The door groaned open as they pulled, and revealed a group of survivors huddled in the dark within. Most were human. Some were the same brick-red wolf species as Red. All were dirty and terrified, with too-pale faces, too-wide eyes, and blood speckled across their skin and clothes.

Tifa's heart squeezed painfully at the sorry sight of them. "It's okay," she whispered. The one nearest to her, a child, flinched back at the sound of her voice. Her heart contracted further. "You're safe now. The— The bad people are gone."

"The Simmels?" came a creaky voice from the back.

Tifa squinted into the gloom and located the owner of the voice: an older man, his face worn and weathered with time. "Gone," she confirmed, and tried to sound happy about it.

"They're gone," Tifa said again as she helped one of the survivors out of the dark— a young woman, with blood streaked through her honey-blonde hair. Her hands were shockingly cold. "You're safe now."

"One of them saved us," a different survivor said, a red wolf with beads braided behind one of their ears. "A- A man. With short, white hair. Told us to get in here, to hide. And then… And then we heard…"

Their voice choked off, and Tifa's eyes flicked back to meet Vincent's. White hair. This wasn't the first time they've heard reports of a Simmel that matched that description. It could be Kadaj, but maybe– and oh, how Tifa hoped– it was actually Cloud. Cloud's hair wasn't white, but it was a very pale blond. Maybe in certain lighting…?

Vincent placed a hand on the wolf's head and said, his voice a low rumble, "You are safe now," and Red nuzzled the wolf's head in comfort before guiding them outside. Tifa pushed aside her thoughts– later, later– and instead helped Vincent and Red round up the others before guiding them outside the building.

They used the hidden worker's entrance, to avoid the carnage strewn across the lobby. From there they went to a nearby doctor's house so the survivors could get treatment and then, after a brief much-needed reprieve, the three of them went back to the bank. Only Cid still remained inside. Yuffie was sitting on the stone steps leading up to the entrance, a smear of sick drying out beneath the sun beside her. Near her was Cosmo Canyon's mayor, an elderly human man named Bugenhagen.

Seeing them, he rolled towards them using a large mobile chair, visibly tense. The chair might have been green at one point, but it was now permanently stained red from the local soil. "Well?" he demanded as they approached. "Have you found the Simmel bastards? Or any survivors? Any hints, or clues, or any other oddities you have discovered?"

"We have not found the perpetrators," Vincent replied coolly, dust pillowing his footsteps, "but we did find survivors, which we escorted to your doctor." Bugenhagen sagged in relief. "We are still searching for clues."

"Thank you," Bugenhagen rasped. "Yes, of course, please continue. Thank you." He abruptly grimaced and began massaging his heart. "No one bothers with the Simmels anymore, not since their new member turned out worse'n all the others—" Tifa, knowing that the new member was likely Cloud, clenched her jaw to keep from arguing— "but I thank you all the same. Your efforts here will not be forgotten."

"No thanks necessary."

But Bugenhagen did not seem to have heard; rather, his expression blazed with a religious-like fervor. "One day we'll find and hang'em all," he ground out. "All of 'em. With their bodies swingin' from the gallows, maybe— just maybe— this small countryside of ours will finally know some thrice-damned peace."

Tifa bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Not all of them, she wanted to say, but that kind of talking wouldn't do her any favors here. Instead she managed a thin, "Maybe," and headed into the bank to help Cid with… well, whatever he was doing. Maybe it was rude to leave a conversation so abruptly, but she figured hauling Bugenhagen up by his worn-out robe and shaking him until he understood that it wasn't Cloud's fault would be worse. Far worse. She needed to stick to the lesser evils.

Cid was standing near the back, beside one of the piles of bodies. A travel-worn gingham bandana covered his nose and mouth. "Damn it," he cursed as Tifa approached. He wiped his brow, his skin pale and clammy. "Hells, this is worse than the last time."

"What did you find?" Tifa asked, trying to breathe shallowly. Cid shot her a flat gaze and then swept his arm around them, vaguely gesturing at the bodies and the blood. She amended, "Besides that."

"Hells, I don't know." Cid crossed his arms over his chest. "This don't make any sense. Sure, they're missin' their wallets and jewelry, but everything in the vault is still there. It doesn't fit the pattern."

"What pattern?"

Cid explained, "Back in the day, Sephiroth would only hit remote places. Things like… Caravans trekking across the desert, travelers, and maybe the odd town or two. Never something high profile enough to get the proper authorities chasin' him and all, but enough to make a name for his crew. But now…" His voice trailed off, and he helplessly gestured to the room— or rather to all the blood, which splattered the walls and pooled between the tiles. "Sephiroth ain't no stranger to murder as we know, but this… this is somethin' else entirely."

"I agree." Tifa turned to the new voice just in time to see Vincent striding into the lobby, his black cape sweeping above the ground with every step. "This isn't their usual style. It is clear that they are looking for something in particular, but as for the rest of it, these unnecessary deaths…" He delicately sighed. "I cannot help but feel that there is something almost ritualistic about it."

Ritualistic, Tifa thought faintly. That was a word for it. Massacre would be another.

Vincent continued, "We agree that Sephiroth has become… shall we say, more prone to extreme, religious-like fantasies since he had been locked up in Midgar. Correct?"

"Right," Cid agreed, though he didn't sound happy about it.

"The vaults were all mostly full too, which makes me think they were looking for something," Tifa said, then on a gut feeling, asked, "Haven't we received reports where the survivors mention that they overhead Sephiroth say the word mother? Do you think that's related?"

Vincent brow furrowed. "Hmm. Yes. Though I do not know if he's referring to his birth-mother, or someone else entirely."

Tifa considered this. "I… don't think Cloud knows his mother. All he's told me is that he's an orphan, that his parents had died when he was very young, and he barely remembers them."

"And Cloud had never mentioned a mother or father to me either, in the brief time he stayed with me," Vincent said, frowning. "But if they had passed away while he was young, then perhaps Sephiroth does remember them. Hence the 'mother'."

"So what?" Cid cut in. "Sephiroth is looking for his mother in bank vaults?"

Tifa glanced behind the counter, to the entrance to the back vaults. "Or maybe he's not looking for his birth-mother at all," she said after a pause. "He's never mentioned a mother before Midgar, right? Or at least, we haven't heard any reports like that?"

Vincent was watching her with an unreadable expression. "That's right."

"So," Tifa continued, gaining momentum, "maybe 'mother' isn't Sephiroth's actual mother, but a title of some sort. Or maybe something happened in Midgar while he was locked up, and he went… well, mad."

Cid hummed, deep in thought. "Prisoners going mad in Midgar's jail ain't exactly uncommon. Though," he continued, pulling a face, "most people already have a few screws loose when they enter."

Tifa scuffed the ground with her boot. "Right." Even she, living as remotely as she had been, had heard the rumors regarding the infamous Midgar jail: those who entered rarely came back out again, the prisoners often killed each other in fits of frenzy, and the screaming could be heard even from outside. There was also the unsurprisingly rumor that the place was haunted. "And Midgar is also where he met the three other Simmel members too, correct? Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz?" Just saying Yazoo and Loz's name made her heart race in an ugly way, the memories of them suddenly attacking her on the farm sending adrenaline buzzing through her veins like a nest of angry hornets, but she pushed past it. "Don't you think it's strange how they had the same slitted eyes?"

"The same eyes as Sephiroth does now," Vincent added, his voice dark.

Cid suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Ah. And his eyes weren't like that before Midgar."

"Exactly." Tifa's gaze swiveled from Cid to Vincent. "Maybe while he was there, something else happened. Maybe he saw something over there that changed him, made him more twisted and strange."

Vincent's brow furrowed. "Saw something… Such as a spirit?"

Cid's gaze skipped across the room. "One helluva spirit."

"It might be far-fetched, but it would explain…" Tifa glanced at the bodies around them, and quickly looked away when her stomach threatened to rebel. "Well, all of this."

A sudden hand clapped on her shoulder, startling her. When she turned, Cid was giving her a wry grin, though it was a bit strained given the surroundings. "Guess we'll just have to ask Sephiroth what the hell happened when we catch him."

When, not if. Tifa clenched her hands into fists and nodded. "That works for me."

"Glad to hear it." He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before letting go. "So!" His voice echoed through the large room. "Who wants'ta help me dig some graves?"


By the time the bodies were properly buried with the help of the townspeople, the sun had sunk low in the horizon and stars now speckled the sky. The crew had all been given inn rooms free of charge courtesy of Bugenhagen, and now Tifa found herself curled up by the window, the wooden chair uncomfortable beneath her and the glass pane cold against her temple. It was long past time to go to bed, but she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

Her gaze dropped from the constellations twirling overhead down to the letter she was holding. It was from Zack, and apparently it had arrived a few days prior to their arrival in Cosmo Canyon.

A weak smile curved her lips. That was Zack– always one step ahead.

She angled the letter close to the window, and began reading by moonlight.

Tifa, the letter began in near illegible writing.

I hope this letter finds you well. We've been hearing stories of hardship in the south, even back here on the ranch. They say that people have gone missing, towns are being left for the ghosts, and that supplies are running low because merchants refuse to trade down there any more. They say it's because of the Simmel gang. Hope they're wrong, but I have a feeling they ain't.

Speaking of. If the Simmel gang did hit the C.C. bank, then they'll likely hit the railway next. There's a big one that connects C.C. to the Golden Saucer— I reckon they'll be around there, maybe waiting for a high profile mark. If they didn't, then I figure they'd go further south to somewhere more subtle. Gongaga is somewhere down there. May be worth taking a look, just in case.

Either way, I'm sure you have it covered. Wish I was out there too but since I'm not, smack the back of Cloud's head for me when you next see him. He deserves it for causing so much trouble.

Aerith and Elmyra also say hello. Aerith also says to be careful. You know how she worries.

With Love,

Zack

Tifa read and reread the letter, the inked words made darker beneath the moon's pale light. Next is the Golden Saucer, she thought as she carefully folded the letter. There was no doubt in her mind that the Simmels would strike there next. After all, Zack had been right every single time this past year. The man had an uncanny ability to determine the likelihood of Sephiroth's next target, and if it wasn't for him, Tifa and the rest of the crew would have lost the Simmel gang's trail long ago.

Tifa turned her gaze back towards the stars. The question burning in her mind wasn't whether the Simmels would strike there next. Thanks to Zack's letter, she already knew they would. What she was wondering was what, and who, she would end up finding there.

Cloud, hopefully.

The thought made her chuckle. She always seemed to be relying on hope these days.

Setting the letter aside, she pulled a fresh paper out of her saddlebag and began penning her own response.


This chapter fought me from beginning to end, like it was a real proper struggle, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out! This is the first chapter of the final arc, and my goal is to wrap up by chapter 16 with the possibility of an epilogue. That's the plan anyway, but we'll see what happens haha

If you're enjoying the story, I post all of my writing previews & chapter updates on my twitter (Rand0mSmil3z) and, most recently, my tumblr (rand0msmil3z) !

Until next time, I wish you all nothing but the best 🌻