Aerith Gainsborough slowly made her way down the length of the passenger ferry Shinra-8. Like her companions, she was wearing the signature blue uniform of a Shinra trooper, along with the unmistakable "three-eyed" helmet.

Being at sea was exhilarating. Aerith had never seen the ocean before, nor stepped aboard a ship. In truth, the vessel was a modest one, living out its years of service transporting passengers and cargo between Junon and Costa del Sol. But in Aerith's eyes, it was an endless source of wonders.

Her curiosity led her up and down the passageways and ladders, exploring every corner she could find. She quickly learned that the ship's clientele─wealthy socialites traveling to and from fashionable resorts─did not take kindly to common troopers nosing about the passenger decks. Their cold stares drove her back down to the belly of the craft, where disorderly stacks of cargo cluttered the hold.

The end to her short-lived adventure was disappointing, but at least she wasn't alone. Tifa Lockhart, decked out in an identical uniform, smiled warmly as Aerith descended the stairs.

"I overheard a useful tip up on the deck," said Tifa.

From the woman's gentle appearance, Aerith would have never guessed what an amazing fighter she was. Tifa was an expert martial artist, able to throw punches faster than the eye could see and unleash all manner of deadly kicks. She could even jump right over opponents' heads with ease. And on top of it all, she was beautiful.

In their short time together, they'd faced countless dangers and close calls. Every time, Aerith had found great comfort knowing Tifa was at her side. Everything about her spoke of a true friend.

"One of the passengers was saying," continued Tifa, "that if you start to feel seasick, you should try chatting with someone. Helps take your mind off the rocking of the ship."

"Huh. That's interesting. Are you feeling seasick?"

"Not especially."

"Oh. That's good. Me neither."

The two fell silent.

It wasn't until a moment later that the light bulb went off in Aerith's head. Tifa had a curious tendency to hint at things rather than saying them outright, so as not to impose on others. The comment about seasickness was her way of saying she wanted to talk.

"No seasickness here!" announced Aerith. "But, um... wanna chat anyway?"

"I was hoping to learn a little more about you," confessed Tifa.

"Me?"

"I'm a really good listener, you know. Used to run my own bar and everything."

Tifa leaned against a stack of cargo, plucking an imaginary glass from the air, which she proceeded to clean with an imaginary cloth.

"Come on in and have a seat," she said, miming a deep bartender's voice. "Don't think I've seen you here before. First time at the bar?"

"Oh, wow!" exclaimed Aerith, followed by a giggle.

"You from around here?" continued Tifa.

"Nope! My home's in the Sector 5 slums."

"Is that so? Pretty lively neighborhood. That where you grew up?"

"Oh, um..." Aerith hesitated. "That's kind of... complicated."

Tifa immediately cut the charade. She was good at that─picking up on how her friends were feeling.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to pry."

Both Tifa and the rest of their companions had already heard the most important part of Aerith's story: that she was an Ancient and the last of her kind.

"No," Aerith rushed to say. "It's okay. Really. The question just took me a little off guard. Nobody's ever wanted to hear my story, and until now, I guess I'd never met anyone I wanted to share it with.

"So..." she continued, latching on to Tifa's arm and sidling in close. "Still up for it?"

"If you really don't mind."

"Not at all!"

To understand Aerith, it was first necessary to understand her mother. Ifalna was the last full-blooded Ancient, her father and mother both hailing from that long-forgotten race, which once served as stewards of the planet.

Unlike her forebears, however, Ifalna had spent a significant portion of her life tied to one location: she lived secreted away among the upper floors of the Shinra Building as a ward of the company, cooperating in research meant to rediscover the mysteries of her people. Ifalna was generously supplied with all manner of comforts inside her living quarters. Still, it was a life of confinement all the same.

For a young girl, it was all the worse. All of Aerith's earliest memories took place within those four walls; she knew nothing of how she and her mother first came to live there. Socially, her life was desolate: all adults going about adult business, with only one person Aerith could call a friend.

Lonny. He was two years older, the son of their caretaker, Marielle, who showed up each day to look after Aerith and handle the cleaning and other chores.

But life for Aerith took a dramatic turn in 1992, when she was seven years old. Images flooded her mind, unbidden and refusing to go away. They overloaded her senses, an assault of landscapes, faces, animals, and even monsters─none of which she'd seen before. The power of the Ancients, she'd later be told, had awakened within her.

Still young and lacking the discipline to control or ignore the mysterious visions, Aerith found herself compelled to draw. She re-created scenes on paper and even the walls of their quarters, leaving the contents of her mind open for anyone to see. At the time, she'd been convinced that the drawings could free her from the constant onslaught.

"Looking back now, I understand," Aerith told Tifa aboard the ferry. "I was a hostage, and to keep me safe, my mom was ready to do whatever Hojo said.

"But when Hojo found out that I'd inherited my mother's powers, he got greedy. He had a backup test subject now, which meant he could employ riskier, crueler methods─ones he hadn't dared when he believed my mother to be the last of her kind. Every day when Mom came back from the lab, I could see she was getting weaker. Pretty soon, she was on the verge of collapse."

As Hojo's methods grew crueler, so too did his demands on Ifalna's time. The professor and his staff seemed to have an endless list of tasks and experiments to run, and to get through them, they kept Ifalna in their lab longer and longer with each passing day.

Soon, she was being returned to her quarters in a wheelchair, too weak to support her own weight. On the worst days, Aerith would have to call the staff back at night, asking for someone to help lift Ifalna into bed. Usually, the one to come lumbering in was Faz.

Faz Hicks was a big man, in both frame and features. Everything down to his eyes, nose, and mouth was, quite simply put, large. Of all the lab assistants Aerith had seen, nobody else came close.

Perhaps because of that, it was Faz's thick arms lifting Ifalna from the wheelchair to her bed more often than not. Ifalna looked like a rag doll in his grasp, but his movements were gentle, and Aerith had always appreciated that.

At some point, Ifalna began to ask him for something to numb the pain, her voice sad and sweet. Aerith was careful never to say so, but she hated the coy tone of that voice. She wanted Ifalna to get better. She wanted things to go back to the way they'd been before.

"Please, Faz," her mother begged.

The requests must have stirred the big man's sympathy, for one day, with his back to the security camera, he fished a small vial and syringe from his pocket, wordlessly held them up for Ifalna to see, and secreted them away in a drawer.

"Nobody else can know," he emphasized in a low voice.

Later, Aerith watched as Ifalna carefully drew a dose from the vial in the blind spot directly beneath the camera. But she couldn't bear the sight of the needle sliding into her mother's arm. From then on, whenever the vial came out, Aerith ran to cower behind the couch.

To Aerith, events inside the room didn't have clear dates or a sequence. Every day blended into the next, such that she couldn't say exactly when the next big change came. She knew she was still seven. Beyond that, it was hard to say.

It was night, and she was burrowed under the covers in her mother's big bed, the way she always slept from the day she came to understand the surveillance camera and what it meant.

"Aerith," her mother whispered from beyond the duvet. "What if... What if we went on an adventure?"

Aerith considered this for a moment, then lowered her own voice to a matching whisper. "An adventure?"

"A big one. To somewhere far, far away."

"You mean outside?!"

The outside world. For Aerith, the prospect sparked curiosity and terror alike.

"Oh, how I've longed to go back out there again one day..." mused her mother.

It was a sentiment Aerith couldn't quite grasp, but she heard hints of sadness, like salty tears creeping into her mother's voice. She wanted to see what that feeling looked like, so she popped her head out from under the covers to peer at her mother. Ifalna sat with her face buried in the crook of her arm. The sleeves of her baggy dressing gown were rolled up to the elbows, exposing the awful red speckles─the countless scars left by day after day of secret injections.

"Without the men in white? And the needles? Would you get better there?"

"Yes, sweetheart... I think I would."

"If it'll make you better, then I'll do it. But how are we supposed to get away? The camera's always watching."

"Faz is going to help us."

"Why would he want to help?"

Ifalna paused for a moment before finally answering, "Because he's a good person."

The day it happened, everything started out normal. Ifalna was led away in the morning and brought back in the evening. This time, Faz was the one pushing the wheelchair.

"Hello, Aerith," he said in his deep baritone. "Everything's good to go. I've arranged a safe place for us to stay in the Sector 3 slums. You'll even have your very own room. It's not a large home, but it's all we'll need to start our new life."

He patted her arm and lumbered out.

Late that night─or very early the next morning, most likely─the alarm sounded. Ifalna slipped out of the bed and pressed a bundle of clothing into Aerith's arms, urging her to dress quickly. Aerith had never seen the clothes before and wanted to know where they'd come from.

"Faz," was all Ifalna said. She was hastily pulling on an unfamiliar outfit of her own. As soon as they were dressed, she grabbed Aerith's hand.

"Let's go."

"What if they catch us?!" wailed Aerith.

"Don't think about it. Just run."

Ifalna placed a hand against the door. It slid open with a whoosh.

"It's unlocked!" gasped Aerith. "How?!"

Her mother gave no response.

Ifalna closed her eyes for one deep breath. Then, with a decisive nod, she darted out into the hallway, Aerith in tow.

The corridor was empty. The piercing blare of the alarm filled their ears.

"Alert," announced a flat, metallic voice. "A breach in monster containment has been detected. All staff must immediately evacuate the lab... Alert. A breach in monster containment..."

Over and over, the message looped.

"Monsters?!" cried Aerith.

Ifalna didn't respond. She calmly assessed the corridor and, bearings established, broke into a brisk trot. Aerith had to run to keep pace, hand still held tight in her mother's grasp. But not a dozen steps in, she could already see Ifalna begin to weave slightly, fighting to maintain her balance. The burst of vigor as she darted from the room was all but gone.

They rounded the first corner. No staff members were in sight. Curiously, Aerith didn't sense any monsters prowling about either. All she saw was a lone cleaning cart abandoned in the middle of the foyer.

The cart's large metal frame sat atop four tiny casters. Long-handled brooms and mops poked haphazardly from a receptacle at one end.

Ifalna knelt and pressed her hands to one of the cart's metal sides, sliding it open to reveal the bottom compartment. Aerith had seen similar carts before, and all she could think was how very odd it was for the compartment to be empty. It was supposed to be full of rags and brushes and bottles of solvent. Even the metal shelves and dividers were gone.

"We'll hide in here," explained her mother. "I'll go in first."

Ifalna squeezed herself into the compartment, sliding as far back as she could.

"Now you," she called.

Aerith did as she was told, stooping low at the opening. Ifalna sat with her knees at her chest, arms squeezing legs tight to make space for her daughter. Aerith slipped in easily. In a way, it was almost fun. It wasn't nearly as cramped as she'd expected.

"We'll have to stay very still for a while, so make sure you're comfortable."

"I'll be okay like this."

"All right."

Ifalna slid the door shut from the inside, and the compartment was thrust into darkness. Beyond the thin metal veil, the alarm continued its incessant screeching, accompanied by the impassive looping message.

After what seemed like a very long time, Aerith sensed someone drawing near. The cart jolted slightly, and a voice from outside said, "It's me."

Ifalna replied ever so softly, "We're in your hands, Faz."

"Here we go."

The cart slid into motion, its casters emitting a low, constant churning as they rolled down the corridor floor.

"Whatever happens, don't say a word," cautioned Faz.

After a moment, Faz quietly announced that they were about to turn a corner. A while later, they felt the front pair of casters lurch and then the back. Faz explained that they had boarded an elevator.

"There will be several of these," he said.

Aerith felt a curious sensation, as if she were falling in slow motion. It made her stomach roil, and she brought a hand to her mouth.

"Mom, I don't feel good..." she whispered.

"Hang in there. It'll be over soon enough."

The long, slow descent came to an end, and the cart wheeled forward again, but only briefly. There was another lurch of the casters, a pause, and the falling sensation returned: another elevator, just as Faz had said. And then there was another, and yet another.

At long last, Faz's deep, gentle baritone announced that they'd reached the parking lot.

A strange, unpleasant smell seeped inside the compartment, quite unlike the filtered air of their living quarters.

"Your cart ride's just about over," explained Faz. "Next comes a truck. Hurry onto the cargo bed. I'll help hoist you up."

The smooth churning of the casters changed to a grating roar, and the inside of the cart shuddered and rattled. It was almost worse than the elevators, but fortunately, it didn't last nearly as long. The cart came to a stop, and the compartment's panel abruptly slid open.

"Quickly now," urged Faz.

The lab assistant's massive hands reached in, plucking Aerith from the cart like a package in transit. In one fluid motion, he lifted her onto the bed of a waiting truck.

"To the back," ordered Faz, already turning to help Ifalna, who he lifted just as effortlessly.

"You'll see several wooden crates. One is empty. Get inside, and be certain to remember the lid. The truck's driver is my cousin. He'll deliver you to the rail yard, where your crate and all the others will be loaded onto a freight car. The train's final stop is the Sector 4 slums. Wait for me there."

"Inside the box?" asked Ifalna.

"No. You'll need to leave the crate behind. A friend of mine will be there to ensure your safe arrival. I imagine you'll be asked to wait somewhere near the station. Follow whatever instructions you're given. You'll find more details in this letter."

Faz pulled a folded scrap of paper from his pocket and gave it to Ifalna, his hand lingering on hers even after the message was safely in her grasp.

"Aren't you coming with us?" asked Aerith.

"I have to head back upstairs and join in the search. If they find out what I've done, I stand to lose much more than my job."

The truck's horn blared, underscoring the urgency of their flight.

"Goodbye for now," said Faz. "Oh, and you'll find food and water in the crate."

"How long should we wait for you?"

"I'll be there by the last train of the night. No later."

Then, to Aerith's astonishment, Faz bent his head and kissed Ifalna's hand. She glanced nervously from her mother to Faz and back again.

"Thank you, Faz."

The words were hardly out of Ifalna's mouth before the truck lurched forward, and soon they were speeding through the parking lot, the heavyset lab assistant vanishing from sight as they rounded a corner.

Ifalna and Aerith had to scramble on their hands and knees to cross the truck bed as the driver lurched madly through the parking lot. Once they reached the back, they found five identical wooden crates, larger in size than the cleaning cart. Ifalna pried open lids until she found the empty one, then lifted her daughter inside.

"It smells in here!" exclaimed Aerith.

There had been many unfamiliar odors since they left their room, many of them unpleasant, but this one was by far the worst. Aerith didn't think she could bear to be in the box for another minute, let alone a whole train ride.

"Try not to think about it. Your nose will adjust in time."

But when Ifalna hoisted herself over the side to join Aerith, she also wrinkled her nose.

"See?!" exclaimed Aerith. "I told you!"

The crate wasn't as cramped as the cart, but they still sat nearly face-to-face. Ifalna stuck her tongue out at Aerith, and the two broke into giggles.

As Aerith shifted around to find a comfortable position, her fingers closed around a large paper bag. Inside, she found a small flashlight, pouches of dried fruit and nuts, a heel of hard bread, and a canteen. There was also a thin envelope, which Ifalna opened to reveal a wad of wrinkled bills.

"Next, the lid," said Ifalna, as if to remind herself.

With a great deal of effort, she managed to tug the wooden lid up and over their heads, squeezing it shut once more. The inside of the crate was pitch-black when she settled back down.

"And now... Right. The letter."

Aerith heard the crinkling of paper as Ifalna unfolded the scrap of paper handed to her by Faz.

"Could you shine the light for me?"

"All right."

Aerith fished the flashlight from the bag by touch, fumbling her fingers along the smooth metal surface until she found the switch. The inside of the crate erupted in harsh white light. She angled the beam at her mother, casting a spotlight on the woman's pale complexion. Beads of sweat glistened on Ifalna's forehead.

"Mom? Are you okay?" asked Aerith.

Ifalna ignored the question.

"I'm going to read the letter aloud," she said. "It's very important that we both remember what it says."

"Okay."

"‘The Shinra Building is situated atop a structure known as the plate. Your destination is the slums, which are connected to the plate by railway. The crate in which you'll hide will be loaded onto a freight car. Once the train is underway, you're likely to observe flashes of red light inside the crate. It might happen several times, but you needn't pay it any mind. It is no cause for alarm.'"

"What's he mean about a red light?"

Ifalna sighed. "He writes as if I have no understanding of the outside world... though he's not exactly wrong about that."

"I'm scared. I don't want there to be a red light."

"Faz says it's nothing to be alarmed by. We have to trust that he's right."

"... Okay."

"‘After a time, you will feel the train level out. When it does, your destination is near at hand. You may hear announcements over the speakers. Before the train stops, climb out of the crate and wait by the door of your railcar. The final stop is called Sector 4 Undercity Station. When you arrive, a friend will open the door, and you must hand over the money I've prepared. Do not be afraid. Follow our friend's instructions and await my arri─'"

A sudden fit of coughing interrupted the last few words of the message. Ifalna turned away, pressing her mouth to her forearm.

"Aerith..." she managed to gasp in a brief interval between coughs. "The light... Off, please..."

Shortly after the truck came to a stop, Aerith felt the cargo bed rock and sway as workers jumped aboard. She heard the thumps and scrapes of crates slid to the edge and lifted from the truck. Little by little, the sounds drew nearer, and then it was their crate's turn, and they were being shoved and jostled, thrown and dropped. At one point, the crate even toppled onto its side. Mother and daughter bore the abuse in silence. Ifalna wrapped her arms tight around Aerith and kept one palm pressed against her daughter's mouth.

"It'll all be over soon," she soothed, her voice the faintest hint of a whisper.

After a while, there was silence. But they'd hardly breathed sighs of relief when a man's voice announced, "This one's goin' to Sector 4," accompanied by a loud thump that must have been his palm against the side.

The crate lurched into motion once more, other sets of rough hands and muffled voices directing it to the railcar. Ifalna and Aerith desperately braced their arms, legs, and backs against the sides of the crate and gritted their teeth.

With one final shove and a thump, the crate came to rest, and the heavy footfalls of the laborers faded away. They heard the great, heavy roar and squeal of a freight car door sliding shut. Again, for a time, there was silence.

When the train at last began to move, Ifalna switched the flashlight back on and laid it on the floor, where it bathed everything in a pale, otherworldly glow. They listened to the gentle, regular ka-clack of the wheels, a welcome change from the many cacophonies they'd endured since their journey began. Aerith soon began to nod off. She teetered on the cusp of sleep, briefly jerking awake once to peer at her mother. Even in the strange light, Ifalna's profile was as beautiful as ever.

Sensing her daughter's eyes, Ifalna turned and smiled.

Everything's going to be better now, thought Aerith. Her eyelids drooped, and at last she dozed. In her dreams, she found herself back in their living quarters, drawing one of her visions.

It was another of her mother's coughing fits that woke her.

"Mom? Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes..." Ifalna replied hoarsely. "Just... a moment."

When the coughing subsided and she'd calmed her breathing, she clasped Aerith's hand.

"I think the train has leveled out. The bars of red light seem to have stopped too. We must be near the station."

"The red light was real?! Why didn't you wake me up? I wanted to see!"

Ifalna chuckled. "When we read the letter, you said it sounded scary."

"It does sound scary," pouted Aerith. "But I still wanted to see it."

As if on cue, bars of light swept from one end of the crate to the other, momentarily dyeing everything inside a deep crimson. Aerith and Ifalna looked at each other with wide eyes.

"It happened!" exclaimed Aerith. "Everything's red!"

"Yes. Very red indeed," agreed Ifalna.

"It's not scary at all!"

Ifalna reached for the paper bag and proposed, "How about we eat something? It might be awhile before we get another chance."

She broke off a large hunk of bread for Aerith and ripped open the pouch of dried fruit.

Aerith readily dug in.

"I wonder if this is what a picnic is like," she mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

"What's a picnic?" asked Ifalna.

Aerith swallowed and replied, "Lonny told me about them. You pack up a bunch of food, head outside, walk for a long time, and sit down somewhere to eat. Actually, you don't even have to take food if you don't want to. But Lonny says he's only read about it. He's never been on a picnic either."

"Hm. Sounds complicated. But I imagine the walking must be fun."

Ifalna held out the rest of the bread. For a moment, Aerith only stared at it. The flashlight's weak glow outlined the ragged edge where it had been torn in half.

"Aren't you gonna eat some?" she asked her mother.

"I already did," replied Ifalna. "I ate a whole bunch while you were snoring away with your mouth wide open."

Aerith suspected it was a lie. Still, she puffed up her cheeks, pretending to be angry about the claim that she'd been snoring.

She'd finished the bread off when the train began to decelerate. Ifalna coughed again but clenched her jaw tight to stifle the fit; her shoulders heaved up and down with the effort.

"I'm okay," she told Aerith when the fit had subsided.

"All right..."

In truth, the frequency of her mother's reassurances only deepened her concern.

A muffled voice sounded from somewhere outside the crate. It was tinny and lifeless, like the alarm's looping message in the Shinra Building.

"Next stop... Sector... Under... Next stop... tor 4... city Station."

"Sounds like it's about time for us to get out of this crate," announced Ifalna.

She whacked at the lid until it popped loose, and then thrust it away. Once she'd clambered over the side, she leaned back in to help Aerith out.

The train had slowed, but it was still in motion. Aerith found that she had to plant her feet firmly to keep her balance as the railcar rocked gently back and forth.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "This is so cool!"

Ifalna, meanwhile, clung to the side of the crate.

"Aerith, honey?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever let go of that."

"Let go of what?"

"The way you find joy in everything."

"I won't," Aerith promised, though she wasn't exactly sure what her mother meant.

Ifalna was lifting the lid back onto the crate when she exclaimed, "Well, I'll be... Aerith, take a look at this!"

She pointed to a large shipping label affixed to the wood.

"What does it say?"

Ifalna read the label out loud:

"Hey! We're not hazardous material!" protested Aerith.

"Not very flattering, is it?" Ifalna replied with a laugh.

Their light-hearted moment was broken by a piercing screech: the train had engaged its brakes for arrival. Aerith's balance faltered, and she clung to her mother's legs to keep from falling.

"Aerith, I want you to stay quiet for this next part. Leave the talking to me."

She peered up at her mother with uncertainty. The smiles and laughter of a moment ago had vanished.

When the train came to a rest and the railcar's door slid open again, it was a young woman on the other side. She looked grumpy and impatient, and was dressed in a big baggy set of overalls. Everything about her looked filthy.

Ifalna spoke cautiously. "Are you a friend of Faz?"

The stranger nodded.

"This is for your trouble." Ifalna held out the envelope they'd found in the crate.

The stranger clicked her tongue. "That idiot. I told him not to bother."

"Please. It's yours."

With a sigh, the woman snatched the envelope from Ifalna's hands and stuffed it into her back pocket.

"Off the train," she snapped. "Hurry."

The drop from carriage to ground wasn't a small one. Aerith could tell that even a grown-up would need help getting down, but the stranger was more concerned with scanning the area for onlookers than offering a hand.

"Okay," said Ifalna. "I'll go first."

She hopped down, vanishing from Aerith's sight. Aerith heard her feet thump against the packed dirt─along with a pained gasp.

"Mom!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Did you not hear me? I said hurry," repeated the stranger, her tone even sharper than before.

Aerith could hear her mother apologizing as she stood up straight, her head and shoulders again in Aerith's view. Ifalna held both hands out, and Aerith quickly flung herself into her mother's arms, afraid that any further hesitation would spark another reproach from the woman in the strange, oil-smeared work clothes.

Aerith leapt with such force that her mother nearly toppled over again. Ifalna swayed to one side, taking a few heavy steps to remain upright.

"I hear it's turned into a real shitshow up top," remarked the stranger. "You're supposed to hide in the container yard until Faz arrives."

She pointed to a part of the rail yard filled with tall stacks of freight containers.

"Careful around sundown. The place gets busy, people in and out to claim the day's shipments. Make sure they don't see you. The last thing I need is someone asking questions."

"How long until sundown?" asked Ifalna.

"Four hours, give or take."

The stranger made to leave, but Ifalna called out to her. "One more thing! Which direction to the Sector 3 slums?"

The woman jutted her chin to indicate, then hastily returned to her duties. It was clear she wanted as little to do with the two stowaways as possible.

Ifalna watched the woman go.

"Mom?" Aerith asked anxiously. "Shouldn't we hide?"

"Yes. You're right."

The stranger had reached the front of their railcar. Just before circling around, she turned to check on her two charges, scowling when she saw that they hadn't yet moved. She jabbed her finger in the direction of the container yard once more.

Ifalna held out a hand. When Aerith reached up to take it, her mother gripped tight.

"Are you ready, Aerith? This is where our big adventure really begins."

"Mom, why does your hand feel so hot... ?"

Ifalna smiled. "I'm just excited. That's all."

She began leading them to the rear end of the railcar. Aerith discovered that they'd been loaded onto the very last car of the train. When they reached the back, they paused and peered across the tracks. A squat station building sat in the distance, and Aerith could see the woman─Faz's gruff friend─walking in its direction. Ifalna waited until they saw her disappear inside.

There were other people near the building too. Judging by the uniforms, they seemed to be railway employees.

When Ifalna set off again, her daughter's hand still firm in her grasp, Aerith yelped in surprise.

"Where are we going?!"

Her mother was leading them in the opposite direction of the container yard. Aerith was beside herself with worry, but Ifalna would say nothing. She only squeezed Aerith's hand tighter and quickened her pace. Ahead, Aerith saw a chain-link fence, beyond which a seemingly never-ending stream of people traversed a wide dirt road.

"Mom?" she repeated, desperate for any explanation.

"See that fence? Let's climb it."

"Climb it?!"

The fence was nearly two meters in height.

"I can't! I've never done that!"

"We have to," coaxed Ifalna. "You don't want our adventure to be over already, do you?"

When they reached the fence, several pedestrians on the other side glanced at them, but no one stopped.

"You'll see," declared Ifalna. "This is going to be fun! First, reach both hands up as high as you can and grab on tight."

Her mother demonstrated as she spoke. "Now stick the toe of your left shoe into one of the holes."

Aerith whimpered. Why did they have to climb the fence? Why couldn't they just hide behind the containers like they'd been told?

Still, she lifted her arms and wrapped her fingers around the links, trying to match her mother's pose.

"Pull your weight up with your hands and stick your right toe into another hole."

"Okay..."

"Now reach your right hand higher and grab hold again. Good. Now your left hand."

"Oh!" exclaimed Aerith. "And next my feet, right?!"

Climbing a fence wasn't as hard as she'd imagined. In fact, it was kind of fun.

"Watch this, Mom!"

She scrambled up as fast as she could, the fence rattling loudly with her movements. Before she knew it, she was at the top, and there was nowhere higher to place her hands.

"Wow! Look at you, Aerith. Now swing one leg up and over."

Ifalna's words were cut short by a sharp shout.

"You there! Get down!"

Aerith turned to see a station attendant on the other side of the yard, waving his arms and running toward them.

She looked down. Her mother was still at the base of the fence.

"Mom!" she shouted.

"Hurry, Aerith! Over the top!"

"Climb, Mom!"

Ifalna's limbs began to work their way up. Each movement was agonizingly slow, and the station attendant was getting closer and closer.

"Stop!" he shouted again.

Aerith felt the eyes of the passersby, several of whom had slowed to watch the spectacle unfold.

It was all over. There was no way her mother would reach the top in time. As that thought entered Aerith's mind, she heard another shout, this time from the far side.

"Hurry!" A man, tall and startlingly handsome, had approached the fence. He reached a hand up to help Aerith over.

She hesitated. Who was he? A friend of her mother's? Did her mother have any friends on the outside?

"Go! Take his hand!" urged Ifalna. Aerith looked to her side, surprised to find her mother at the top of the fence, swinging one leg up and over. Somehow she'd made it─but the station attendant had also reached the base of the fence. He leapt with outstretched fingers, just a fraction of a second too late to catch Ifalna's other leg.

With one free hand, Ifalna grabbed the front of Aerith's shirt and pulled, trying to lift her daughter over the top of the fence. Aerith felt her weight shift dangerously far forward. Just as she was about to pitch over headfirst, a strong hand caught hold and carefully lowered her to the ground.

Ifalna hopped down after her, landing with a heavy thud and a gasp.

"Are you okay?" the handsome stranger asked, but Ifalna had erupted in another fit of coughs and was unable to answer.

Meanwhile, the station attendant had also begun to climb. He shouted at them through the links, "You're in for it now! Fare dodging is a felony!"

"He's right," the stranger admitted to Ifalna and Aerith. "But it happens so often that he's delusional if he thinks he can catch everyone who skips a train fare."

"Th-thank... you," Ifalna finally managed to say.

"My pleasure."

He slammed a fist against the station attendant's fingers, curled vulnerably around the links as he hoisted himself up. The attendant yelped and hopped away from the fence.

"Fuck off, Shinra," the stranger jeered. And then, as if the whole interaction had been the most ordinary thing in the world, he sauntered off down the street without another word.

Ifalna and Aerith were left alone in the acid glare of the station attendant, who was still panting heavily from his sprint across the rail yard.

"Could you tell us the way to Sector 3?" Ifalna suddenly asked the attendant. He and Aerith both stared at her incredulously.

"Why the hell should I tell you?!" he bellowed, loud enough to send Aerith retreating a few steps back.

"Good point. Sorry to trouble you," Ifalna apologized calmly, and, taking Aerith by the hand, set off down the street.

Aerith peeked back once to see the attendant still glaring, but soon they were lost among the endless stream of pedestrians, and she could see him no more.

"My, that was exciting," remarked Ifalna once they were well away.

Aerith looked up to find her mother beaming from ear to ear.

Mother and daughter trudged on for some time, traversing the Sector 4 slums. Ifalna seemed to want to put as much distance between them and the train station as possible, but as far as Aerith could tell, the station attendant had given up his chase, and nobody else seemed to be following them either.

As they walked, Aerith stared upward, overwhelmed by the great steel ceiling with its crisscrossed girders. Its size was hard to process, as was the fact that there was a whole other city on top of it─the one from which they'd just fled.

She thought of the great number of people up there, and of the Shinra Building, and of how just a short time ago they'd been way up there too.

"Better look where you're going. You wouldn't want to trip," Ifalna gently chided.

"Okay."

Aerith glanced to her sides. Of the many other people out and about in the slums, none were looking up. It seemed to Aerith that the plate was enough to leave anyone awestruck. But perhaps, given enough time, it simply became part of the background, eclipsed by more ordinary concerns.

There were lots of strange sounds too, most of which she couldn't identify. Sometimes, she'd hear angry shouts from among the jumbled neighborhoods. None of the other pedestrians paid any mind to those things either.

"Who was that man who helped us at the station?" she asked her mother.

"Someone who doesn't like Shinra very much, I suppose. I've heard there are a lot of people like that in the slums."

"Heard where? How do you know so much about the slums?"

"Oh, I asked around. Lots of little questions to lots of different people. I was picking up bits and pieces of information I thought might come in handy for today."

"Is that how you learned how to climb a fence?"

"It is. You'd be surprised what the lab assistants would say when Professor Hojo wasn't around."

"So they were actually good people all along?"

"Well, I don't know about that. They certainly felt bad for us, and I don't think they wanted us to stay locked up. But aside from Faz, none of them ever tried to help. Being a good person is about actions, not just words."

"Do you think Faz is okay?"

Ifalna didn't respond. Aerith waited, thinking her mother might be contemplating how best to answer, but when Ifalna next spoke, it was to say, "I'd like to rest for a moment. How about we sit down over there?"

She pointed at a small open space, around which several benches formed a loose ring.

Aboard the ferry, Aerith cast her eyes to her feet and frowned.

"The moment we sat down," she admitted, "Mom pulled out the little vial and jabbed the needle into her arm right there. I couldn't believe it."

"It must have been rough. For both of you."

When Aerith looked up, Tifa's eyes were glistening.

Mom would've agreed, she thought. This is a truly good person.

Back at that time in Sector 4, Aerith's own heart hadn't been nearly so accepting.

"I knew she was in pain, and that the medicine would bring relief. But all I could think about was me. I hated that she was doing it out in the open for everyone to see."

"You were young."

"Yeah. I was."

Aerith fell silent for a time. She had been young; of course she'd been self-centered and quick to judge. Yet she still had so many regrets, and she hated to write them off as things that couldn't have been avoided simply because she was a child.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, bringing her eyes back up to Tifa's. "Sorry, my mind kinda wandered off there... Want me to keep going with the story?"

"Please."

"After the injection, Mom seemed to get her energy back, and we kept walking. We must've walked for hours, only stopping every once in a while for a short break. Finally, we arrived at a sign that said ‘Sector 5 Undercity.'"

"Mom!" Aerith exclaimed. "We've been going the wrong way! We're supposed to be going to the Sector 3 slums!"

"No. This is right where I was hoping we'd end up."

"But what about our new home? Faz said─"

"Aerith, we can talk later. It's going to be dark soon, and we need to hurry."

"Hurry where? Where are we going?!"

Ifalna did not answer. She gripped Aerith's hand tight and quickened her pace. They continued in silence for a time, though Aerith's mind was a whirlwind of questions.

Finally, Ifalna said in a low voice, "I heard a story once─one that I hope is true. There's supposed to be a church in the Sector 5 slums. Long ago, people would gather there to worship God, but now it sits neglected. Nobody visits, which would make it a perfect spot for us to hide for a while."

Aerith's eyes widened. "I remember reading about God and churches one time... Does God really exist?"

Ifalna considered the question for a moment. "God exists for those who believe. I'm told that the faithful sometimes feel a surge of strength after praying."

"What's praying?"

"I think it must be a little like when the Cetra speak with the planet. I don't know for certain. But if nobody visits the church anymore, I suppose that means that nobody believes in God anymore."

Ifalna smiled at her daughter. "That's too bad for God, but lucky for us."

"Are we going to wait for Faz at the church?"

Ifalna fell silent again but eventually shook her head.

"It wouldn't be right," she murmured, half to herself and half to Aerith. "I've already burdened him too much as it is."

"What about our new home?"

"It's not our home if we don't live there."

"Faz is going to be really disappointed..."

"Yes. Probably so."

"But you're okay with that?"

"As long as I have you, Aerith. You're all I need."

It made Aerith very happy hearing that. She still felt a little bad for Faz, and guilty that they hadn't followed his instructions. But if they didn't see him again, that would mean no new vials or syringes, and no more kisses on the back of her mother's hand.

"We'll have to find the station first," Ifalna announced. "To get to the church, I mean. The only directions I know begin from the platform."

"We could ask someone," suggested Aerith.

"No. I don't want anybody else knowing where we are."

Stuck as they were in the shadow of Midgar's upper level, the slums spent a long portion of each day with little light from the sun. To compensate, numerous large artificial lights were built into the underside of the plate; Ifalna explained that the people down here called them the "sun lamps." Only in the early morning and late evening did the residents feel the rays of the actual sun.

Aerith was baffled to hear it. The news also made her nervous: dusk was nearly upon them, and she felt certain that if they didn't make it to the church by then, something terrible would happen. What that might be, she couldn't say, but she knew she didn't want to find out.

"Look." Ifalna pointed. "That must be the station."

Sure enough, Aerith saw a platform, along which a waiting train was just stirring to life. The Sector 5 Undercity Station seemed much smaller than the one they'd fled; in Sector 4, there had been a proper station building and a big container yard. Here, Aerith couldn't find anything beyond the single, lonely platform. The street running alongside the station was much quieter too, suggesting that Sector 5 saw far fewer passengers.

"All right..." Ifalna mumbled to herself. "Where do we go from─"

Go from here, she'd probably meant to say. But the final word never made it out of Ifalna's mouth. Aerith's mother swayed, pitched forward, and toppled to the ground.

"Mom?!"

Aerith's shout drew stares from the little clusters of residents milling outside the station. But no one rushed over or made the slightest motion to seek help.

Ifalna's breathing was ragged. Aerith grasped her mother's arm and rolled her onto her back. Her skin was hot to the touch, and Aerith knew she must be running a dangerously high fever.

"Where's your medicine?" she asked. "I'll help you take a shot."

"All... gone..." whispered Ifalna.

What little hope Aerith still clung to drained away in that moment. She couldn't carry her mother. She didn't even know where the church was in the first place. What was she supposed to do now?

"Mom?" she asked again. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Ifalna's lips moved, as if trying to say something, but Aerith couldn't make it out. Aerith leaned close, waiting, but she only felt her mother's hot breath against her ear.

What should she do? What could she do? The panic must have been plain across her face.

When Ifalna did manage to speak again, she whispered what sounded like "I'm okay."

It was the same thing she'd been claiming all day long; it probably hadn't been true then, and it most definitely wasn't true now.

Why wasn't anyone coming over to help? Even at the Sector 4 station, there had been the tall stranger at the chain-link fence. Aerith peered around. What little interest she and her mother had garnered was fading fast; the bystanders were already looking away, returning to their own cares. Words and phrases flashed through Aerith's mind. My mother's sick. She has a fever. Please help us. Please! But none of her thoughts found a voice.

"I'm sorry, honey..." Ifalna murmured. "I didn't mean... to spoil our adventure..."

No! Stop! Aerith thought, and then her voice was spilling out in a burst of emotion.

"Don't say that!"

Ifalna neither moved nor responded, but Aerith heard a man clear his throat at her back.

"She sick?"

He was dressed in smeared, faded clothing.

"Help me move 'er over there," he said, jutting his chin in the direction of the station. "Can't have 'er blockin' the road."

The man didn't wait for Aerith to respond. He hunched down and slid a hand under each of Ifalna's armpits, then trudged backward, dragging the woman faceup across the dirt. In the process, Ifalna's shoes came off her feet. Aerith grabbed them and scrambled after.

"Be gentle with her, please!" she cried.

But the man continued dragging as before, his expression unchanged. When he'd propped Ifalna against the base of the station's concrete platform, he stepped back, brushing his dusty hands against his equally dusty trousers.

"Better find a doctor," he said.

"Where?"

"Hell if I know. But if it was my mother, I'd start shoutin'."

The man turned and did shout, in a loud voice that echoed across the station plaza.

"Any doctors round here?"

The inquiry found no response.

"Well, can't say I didn't try. Good luck, kid."

The man plodded off without another glance at Aerith or her mother.

A young, fashionably dressed couple descended the station steps. They stared at Ifalna without any hint of reserve, and Aerith heard the man whisper, "Daaamn... She's a goner, for sure."

"Are either of you a doctor?" asked Aerith.

The young man laughed and said, "Nope."

"Is that your mommy?" asked his date.

The two continued to fire off questions.

"Shouldn't you be trying to find help?"

"Doesn't she have any medicine you can give her?"

Amidst the barrage, Aerith recalled the lesson her mother had shared earlier that day. Being a good person is about actions. If there weren't any people like that here, she'd have to go elsewhere. She needed to find help.

"Hang on, Mom," she said. "I'll be right back. I'm going to find a doctor."

She ran. The worry she felt for her mother tugged at her legs and threatened to crush her altogether.

"Are there any doctors?!" she shouted whenever she saw a crowd. "Can anyone tell me where to find a doctor?!"

When she glanced back, the station was much farther behind than she imagined. She was debating whether to turn around, when the sound of laughter reached her ears. A large group of men and women was strolling toward her, obviously in high spirits.

I'll ask that group, she decided, and if they can't point me to a doctor, I'll run back to check on Mom.

But when she sprinted toward the group, calling out to them, the young man at the front suddenly wheeled around to face his friends. He walked backward, matching the group's pace and gesticulating excitedly as he shared some irreverent tale, oblivious to Aerith's approach.

"I told him where he could stick it," he laughed, "and guess what happened next? You're gonna love this. He said to me─"

The man jogged several steps back. Aerith scrambled to avoid him, but it was too late; her face smacked against his rear end, and she tumbled to the ground. Suddenly, the whole group's attention was focused on Aerith.

The man she'd run into declared, "Geez! What, are the orphans running night patrols now? Go to bed, kid!"

His friends erupted in laughter, and the group resumed its walk. Aerith struggled to her feet, listening forlornly as their voices faded into the distance. Feelings of frustration, sadness, irritation, and defeat welled up in her chest.

"Hey, there... You okay?" called another voice.

Aerith turned to find a woman watching her. The stranger's hair was gathered up into a loose half bun from which several locks had escaped, framing features that were soft with obvious concern.

"I'm okay," replied Aerith, "but my mom needs a doctor. Can you please help me find one?"

She realized she'd been crying and wiped the tears away with a dusty sleeve.

"Sorry. I live on the edge of the sector. I don't know any doctors around here."

Aerith thanked the woman and turned away.

As she hurried back to the station, she replayed the exchange in mind: Are you okay? I'm okay. It occurred to her that both question and answer were so automatic, they really meant nothing at all. How many times had she and her mother gone through the same exchange that very day?

"I'm sorry, Mom," she mumbled to herself.

She found her mother propped up against the platform as before, now with a blanket draped over her lap. To Aerith, the blanket seemed to prove that good people did exist in this place; one must have spotted Ifalna and offered what little he or she could spare to at least keep the woman warm.

Still, the pain was plain on her mother's face. Aerith's chest squeezed tight. She pressed a hand to Ifalna's forehead, quickly pulling back with a yelp. The fever was getting worse.

"Mommy... ?"

Ifalna's eyes stared blankly ahead, but she did respond in a tiny, trembling voice. "Aerith?"

"It's me, Mom. I'm right here."

The woman's gaze slowly swept to and fro, finally managing to find and focus on her daughter.

"This... is for you," she said, pulling a small cloth pouch from her pocket. "My father left it to me, whose mother left it to him, whose mother before left it to her. I'm afraid you won't find it to be of any use, but it has existed for a very long time. It connects the Cetra, linking us together."

Aerith's chest burned fiercely, and she declared, "No. I don't want it."

Somehow she knew that if she accepted the pouch, that would be the end.

"This life is over," whispered Ifalna, as if she'd read her daughter's mind. "Mommy has to... return to the planet..."

The small pouch trembled in Ifalna's outstretched hand. Finally, her fingers lost the strength to hold it, and it fell to the ground.

"Don't cry, sweetie. I'll always be with you... Always and forever."

"Mommy... !"

Another voice broke in. "Miss... Do you need help?"

Aerith looked up to find the same woman who had called out to her earlier, when she'd fallen. But before Aerith could answer the question, Ifalna abruptly leaned forward, grabbing the stranger's arm and uttering a desperate plea: "Please. Take Aerith somewhere safe."

The words were delivered with an intensity that was hard to believe from a woman who had moments ago been struggling simply to breathe. But once the words were out, her strength was spent. The husk once known as Ifalna fell limp against the concrete, its spirit having slipped free.

"No..." The word slipped from Aerith's mouth in much the same way.

In her mind, she heard her mother's reassuring voice: Don't cry, sweetie. Mommy has to return to the planet, but I'll always be with you. We are connected.

She knew. She knew it was true, yet her heart burned as if stung by a thousand tiny pinpricks, and tears streamed down her cheeks. A wail began in her gut, low and rising, and every part of her body quaked with agony.

She felt strong hands at her back, rubbing her, consoling.

But not a moment later, a shriek of metal pierced the quiet of the slums, and Aerith looked up anxiously to find the station in a flurry of activity. A train was pulling up to the platform, its brakes squealing as station attendants flagged it down.

"We need to go," the stranger said. She tugged hard at Aerith's arm, yanking the young girl to her feet. Aerith saw the cloth pouch from her mother lying in the dirt and hurriedly stooped back down to pick it up.

"It's not safe here," added the stranger.

The woman pulled on Aerith's arm again, urging her away from the station. Aerith recalled a similar moment, just hours ago, when she'd been tugged across the tracks toward a chain-link fence. Once more, she was being led to an unknown place.

Goodbye, Mom, she thought.

If Ifalna was right, they'd still be together. Aerith sensed that it was probably true. Even so, she would never again feel the warmth of her mother's body. She'd never feel her mother's arms wrap tight around her or have a chance to return the hug. Her mother would still exist, yes, but her life would take a new shape, swept up in another revolution of the planet's grand cycle.

She was struck by a sudden urge to return to Ifalna's side. She turned back and cried, "Mommy... !" but the stranger's hand pulled harder yet. The train had stopped, and its doors hissed open. Shinra uniforms spilled out: first troopers, followed by men in white lab coats.

"Run," commanded the woman, and when she saw that Aerith was frozen with indecision and fear, she swept the child into her arms and broke into a sprint.

The woman didn't let go until they neared the heart of the slums. Finally, panting hard from the exertion, she set Aerith down as gently as she could and asked, "Can you walk?"

Aerith responded with a single sullen nod.

"I'm sorry. I know you would've liked to say a proper goodbye."

Aerith shook her head.

"We did what we had to," said the woman, though it was obvious she was torn. "We never would've gotten you away otherwise."

Aerith let her silence be a response.

"Oh, you poor thing..."

"I'm not sad," protested Aerith. "Mom just returned to our planet."

"Yeah, that's what some people believe. Even so, it's still hard, right? You must be sad about having to say goodbye."

"I'm not," Aerith repeated, with another forceful shake of her head. "I'll see her again."

"I see... Well... How about you come over to my place for the time being? You can lie down and cry it out when you're ready."

"I didn't, though," Aerith announced in the cavernous metal confines of the cargo hold. "Elmyra thought that after the shock wore off, I'd cry and cry. But once I'd left my mom's side, I didn't shed a single tear."

Tifa regarded her with disbelief.

"You saw my home, right?" Aerith continued. "You and the others stopped by when you passed through the Sector 5 slums."

"Yeah. We did."

"I bet you couldn't believe all the flowers."

"It was definitely a surprise."

"The day I first showed up, the flowers were there to greet me. I could feel them welcoming me on behalf of the planet. And I could feel my mom too. So I didn't need to cry. All I'd left behind at the station was an empty shell. My mother was still right beside me."

Tifa tilted her head, looking more puzzled than ever.

"I know," replied Aerith. "It probably sounds really weird."

"Mysterious, maybe, but not weird."

"Thanks. I had a feeling you'd be able to accept it. That's what makes you so easy to talk to."

Aerith swallowed against the lump in her throat. Anxious to change the subject, she exclaimed, "Hey! So what did you think of my house? Pretty big, huh? I mean, at least for the slums."

"Yeah. It was really nice. Well cared for, I guess is the best way to put it. For a second, I almost forgot we were in Midgar, let alone the slums."

"Right?" Aerith grinned. "Actually, the house originally belonged to Elmyra's father-in-law. He was kind of an influential figure in Sector 5. Like Don Corneo, if Don Corneo wasn't evil."

"Is that even possible?"

"Um, never mind! Bad example!"

"Ugh, now I've got Corneo's ugly, puffy face stuck in my mind..."

"Sorry! Forget all about him! Try and imagine someone more... refined. A gentleman. Basically any face other than Corneo's."

"I'll try."

Tifa scrunched up her face with determination, but she ultimately relented with a giggle.

"What is it?" asked Aerith.

"Now that I think about it, I'm not sure I've spent much time with any guys I'd describe as gentlemen."

Though Aerith didn't yet know much about the slums, she could tell right away that Elmyra's home was a special place: the house and surrounding garden were brimming with life. An abundance of plants covered every bit of the terraced ground. There were even flowers! To a girl who had never seen blossom nor bud outside vase or planter, it was an astonishing sight to behold.

A walking path lazily meandered its way through the garden, sloping up and down, its packed dirt lined sometimes with stones and other times with wooden planks laid crosswise. The moment Aerith first set foot upon it, she felt as though her arms and legs were being gently caressed by unseen hands. The sensation didn't spark anxiety or fear; rather, a mellow calm seemed to envelop her heart. (Or perhaps her mind─it was hard to be certain.)

"Is someone there?" she asked.

As if in response, a gust of wind rushed by, sweeping fingers across her cheek and filling her with joy.

Elmyra Gainsborough glanced back to check on the girl. Aerith had learned the woman's name as they walked the long and tortuous route from the Sector 5 Undercity Station.

"Did you say something?"

"No. Nothing."

"Hmm..." Elmyra resumed walking, and added, "Lot of green here, don't you think? One of the few corners of Midgar still in its natural state, left over from before the city was built. When the season's right, the whole place is full of flowers. The ones you see now are just the beginning."

Aerith imagined the entire space teeming with red, white, and yellow blooms. A bright smile spread across her face.

"If anything, there's too many," continued Elmyra. "You wouldn't believe all the bugs they bring. I've tried to trim some of the plants back, even pulled some up by the roots, but the darn things are persistent."

"I think it's wonderful just the way it is."

"Well, you're in luck, then, 'cause I've thrown in the towel. These days, they grow however they like."

Past the fields rose a stately wooden structure that Aerith would in time come to know very well. Elmyra's home was topped with a red roof that looked like a great big floppy hat, with two triangular windows jutting out from the second story.

They stepped up onto the small patio, and Elmyra pulled open the home's large, stately double doors, beckoning Aerith inside. For the briefest moment, Aerith hesitated. Her entire day had been a long string of firsts, many of which she couldn't have begun to imagine from the confines of Shinra HQ. But this first was different. She was about to step inside another person's home. The very idea weighed on her like a dark, heavy stone.

When she mustered the courage to follow Elmyra inside, she was spellbound by what she found. Beams of real wood crisscrossed the ceiling. A wooden table and chairs sat in the center of the front room. The walls were full of windows. All of it seemed an incredible luxury compared to the cold, sterile surfaces of her former living quarters. The furniture, dishware, pots, produce, and even the mops and brooms all seemed to stir and whisper, overloading her mind and leaving her panting for breath.

Unaware of the turmoil behind Aerith's reaction, Elmyra could only smile.

"You sure are a strange one, aren't you? Anyway, I was thinking about your options as we made our way over. We got you away from those men at the station, but there's still the question of what to do next.

"You noticed the orphanage on the way, I hope? There's a whole slew of kids living there already, and the housemother would no doubt welcome you too. But the talk around town is that the orphanage has ties with Shinra. And from what we saw at the station, I'm guessing you're not too fond of the company."

Aerith nodded vigorously.

Elmyra heaved a sigh. "If that's so, all the more reason to tread carefully. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly in a good spot to help you draw up any big plans. I've got a lot going on as it is. So... How would you feel about staying here with me for now? We'll ride it out and deal with the problems as they come."

Aerith nodded again.

"Then it's settled. Let me show you the upstairs."

A staircase curled up along the edge of the front room. Elmyra bounded up the steps two at a time: she seemed to have a rather impatient disposition. Aerith scrambled after her, but Elmyra's foot was already tapping by the time she managed to reach the second-floor landing.

"I'm thinking it'll be best if you stay up here."

"Okay."

"To be honest, this household gets more than its fair share of guests. If I suddenly had a little girl running around, people would notice, and it might raise a few eyebrows. Worst case, word could get back to Shinra.

"Eventually, in the mornings and late evenings, it'll be safe enough to sit with me downstairs, and I'll be sure to call you down as often as I'm able. But aside from that, could you promise to stay here on the second floor, at least for a while?"

"... How long is a while?" asked Aerith.

Elmyra's brows knit, and her arms folded against her chest. All the laughter in her eyes was gone.

"Be honest with me. It's not just your mother Shinra wants, is it? They want you too."

Aerith understood the question, but she wasn't sure she had an answer. Was Shinra looking for her? It seemed likely, when she reasoned it out. With her mother gone, Aerith was the last remaining Cetra.

"Yeah... I mean, yes, ma'am."

"No need for ‘ma'am,'" replied Elmyra. She seemed to think for a bit, then concluded, "If that's the case, you're better off staying hidden until Shinra gives up the search."

The idea of Shinra ever giving up seemed terribly unlikely to Aerith. She certainly didn't want to live on the second floor of Elmyra's house for the rest of her life.

Elmyra noticed her gloomy frown and tried to offer reassurance. "You won't be up here forever. People eventually give up. It's human nature."

"Yes, ma'am. I mean... yeah."

Downstairs, a doorbell rang. Now it was Elmyra's turn to grimace. Aerith tensed. Had the troopers found her already?

"Stay here, and stay quiet," cautioned Elmyra. She adjusted her hair and smoothed her clothing before hurrying down the stairs.

Aerith crouched on the landing, balling herself up as tight as she could.

I won't make a sound, she told herself. They won't even hear me breathe.

No sooner did she hear the click of the front doors' latch than a storm of angry shouts filled the house.

"Where the hell've you been?!" demanded a male voice.

Aerith nearly lost her balance; she had to thrust a hand out to keep from toppling to the floor.

"Oh, so now I'm supposed to keep you informed of my every move. Is that it?" came Elmyra's sharp response.

"You were the one who wanted to meet up!" raged the man. "Come by in the evening, you said! You think it's funny to keep me standing around with my thumb up my ass?!"

"I said I might be around in the evening. I didn't promise you a single thing. Not that it matters, anyway. You can show up day or night, and it won't do you any good."

"All I need is a signature and a fingerprint, and I'll be outta your hair. How many times you gonna make me say it?!"

"Say it as many times as you want, the answer won't change! There are rules and procedures for this kinda thing. I'm not on board unless Meguro is. You could have my signature and my fingerprint in blood and it wouldn't do you any good. If Meguro thinks you forced me, he'll run you out of the sector. So if you want to have a long, successful career, you'll shape up and do this the right way."

"Damn it all! This is bullshit!"

"Keep talking like that and I'll wash your mouth out with soap. Now go on. Get."

"Bullshit! Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!"

"Last warning. Scram. And I'd suggest you think real hard about your behavior."

The front doors slammed shut, and Aerith heard the muffled cursing of the man as he departed.

A moment later, Elmyra ascended the staircase, looking more tired than ever.

She sighed deeply and said, "Carlo Kincaid. Real piece of work, that one. But don't worry. Most of the guys who come by know how to mind their manners."

Aerith was given the bedroom that had, until two months prior, belonged to Gabriel Gainsborough, the patriarch who built the house. Health troubles had left him bedridden for a time, eventually leading to his passing. But the room was clean and orderly, and to Aerith, at least, it contained no lingering sense of death.

"I know it's not very inviting," Elmyra had apologized after explaining, "but it's the only spare room I've got... Er, well, there is another, but it's full of clutter."

Aerith wasn't bothered in the least. Quite the contrary, the room seemed to welcome her.

That first night, Ifalna appeared at the head of her bed.

"I'll be praying for you," she said with a smile. "Praying that Elmyra comes to love you as much as I do."

Traces of fatigue still lingered in that smile─the same exhaustion Aerith had seen in her mother during their long trek through the slums.

"How were you able to come back?" Aerith asked.

"I never went anywhere at all," replied Ifalna. "You and I will always be together. We are connected."

She felt her mother's hand brush against her forehead, and finally she found peace. Aerith fell into a deep, restful sleep.

The following night, Ifalna appeared yet again.

"How was your day?" she asked. "Are you getting along with Elmyra?"

"I'm not sure... She made breakfast and brought it to my room. She sat down to eat with me and left me some bread for lunch. But after that, she headed out, and I was alone until she came back. And then it was time for dinner. But... she looked so tired. She didn't seem to want to talk, and if we don't talk, I don't know how we can become friends. What should I do?"

"Everything will be all right. Elmyra's in a tough spot at the moment, but I think you might be able to help."

"Help how?"

"Be with her. When she's overwhelmed and looks like she might cry, sit at her side, like you used to do for me."

"But... I never saw you cry, Mom. Did you really used to feel like that?"

"Yes, from time to time."

Aerith waved her gloved, armored hands apologetically. "Uh... Sorry. I should probably back up."

For the past several minutes, Tifa had been regarding her with a mystified expression.

"At that point, I still thought they were just dreams. I figured I'd fallen asleep and was talking to my mom inside my head."

"... Now I'm even more confused. You're saying they weren't dreams?"

"It's something the Cetra can do. We become one with the lifestream as it courses by. And through it, we can talk to other people, even if they're really far away. At least, we can under certain circumstances."

"That's incredible..."

"Yeah, I guess it is, huh? But I've pretty much lost all that. If I'm in a place where the energy's really concentrated, I can still feel the connection, but the rest of the time, I don't feel anything at all."

"Huh."

"It's hard to say if it's a relief to be free of it, or if I miss it. In any case, back then that ability led to all kinds of misunderstandings with the people around me. I guess people thought I was a pretty weird kid."

It was Aerith's third day in her new home. The sun lamps were off, and the real sun was well below the horizon, but Elmyra had yet to return from her daily outing. Aerith hadn't eaten anything since noon, and that meal had only consisted of a bit of bread and soup. She was famished. She didn't know how much longer she could bear it.

I could go downstairs and look for something to eat, she thought. But she quickly shook her head. She'd promised to stay on the second floor. She didn't want to risk upsetting her host. What if Elmyra asked her to leave?

But I'm really hungry. Maybe I could─

Just then, she heard the click of the front doors.

"It's me," announced Elmyra. "I'll get dinner ready and bring it up."

From the tone of her voice, it was obvious the woman was in a very poor mood.

"Thank you," called Aerith, but she got no response.

She sat in her chair quietly, listening to the sounds from the kitchen─a quiet clink of metal, followed a while later by the bubbling of a pot coming to boil. When the meal's savory smells began to waft up the stairs and into her room, Aerith pulled out the small folding table from her closet, setting it up as she'd seen Elmyra do the day before.

At last, Elmyra appeared at her door, carrying a tray on which sat a loaf of warm bread and two bowls of baked beans.

"Sorry for the wait," Elmyra said.

Aerith gasped when she caught sight of the woman's face. A large bandage stretched across her right brow and down to the corner of her eye.

"Just took a little tumble," Elmyra said, her voice flat. "Nothing for you to worry about."

She set the tray down on the table, mumbled something to herself as she sat, and began eating in silence. Apparently, she had no intention to expound upon the incident.

Aerith, unsure what else to do, summoned the biggest smile she could muster and announced, "It looks delicious!"

If nothing else, she could at least try her very best to make the meal a cheerful one.

"Mmm! It is delicious!" she added after her first bite.

"Came from a can."

"Well, then canned foods are delicious."

"Great. Tell it to whoever made the stuff."

"Where do canned foods come from?"

"Some Shinra factory. Quit talking and eat, would you?"

The possibility that they owed this particular meal to Shinra quickly dampened Aerith's spirit.

Elmyra, seeming to regret the admonishment, added, "I don't like it either, but it's near impossible to get by if you swear off Shinra products altogether. I can bake my own bread, but the flour and the electricity for the oven are still coming from Shinra. You gotta compromise somewhere."

"What's a ‘compromise'?"

"Means you gotta pick your battles. Now I'm serious. Less talking, more eating."

Irritation had crept back into Elmyra's words. Aerith wished things could have gone differently. But given that her efforts to brighten the mood had failed spectacularly, she figured she might as well try asking one of the real questions on her mind.

"I will," she promised, "but could you please tell me one thing? Where do you go every morning after breakfast?"

Elmyra paused, a spoonful of beans halfway to her mouth. Her gaze held on Aerith for a moment, then dropped just as suddenly as she resumed eating. Aerith hadn't been able to read anything in her expression, and she was all out of ideas about how to keep the conversation going.

She'd relented and resolved to eat the rest of the meal in silence, when Elmyra spoke up.

"Used to lug this table outside for picnics, y'know."

Her voice was gentle and forthcoming.

"Picnics!" exclaimed Aerith. "I've heard of those!"

"Well, as close as you can get to a picnic in the slums, anyway. Someplace away from the crowds, but not so remote that you'd run into monsters. Just a quiet spot to sit outside and munch on some ham and cheese sandwiches. Maybe with a beer or two to wash them down."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah. It was."

Elmyra's expression clouded, and for a moment, Aerith panicked. Wanting to keep the happy conversation running as long as possible, she asked, "Did you go by yourself?"

"Of course not."

Elmyra set the heel of bread back on her plate, stood, and walked over to her own room. She returned as quickly as she'd left, with a framed photo that she held out to Aerith.

Aerith immediately recognized the photo's small folding table. On one side sat a man, and on the other Elmyra. The two leaned in shoulder to shoulder, facing the camera. Aerith didn't recognize the man, but he had a stout, rugged build and a face to match. It was a stark contrast to Elmyra's thin, almost dainty figure. Both wore big, wide grins.

"Clay Gainsborough," said Elmyra. "Gabriel's only son... and my dear husband."

"Husband?!" exclaimed Aerith. "I know that word too! It's someone special! Husbands are special to wives, and wives are special to husbands!"

That made Elmyra laugh.

"Yeah, well, there's my special man," she said. "When he gets back home, be sure to call him Clay. He'll like that. He's good with kids. I know he'll be just as happy to have you here as I am."

"Where is he now?" Aerith asked, still peering at the photograph.

When Elmyra didn't respond, she looked up to find the woman very nearly in tears. Still, Elmyra was quick to force a smile for Aerith's sake.

"Shipped off to fight in the war. I got a letter a while back, though. He's accumulated some leave and is coming to visit. Except, well... He was supposed to arrive six days ago, but there's been no sign of him and no further word. I was on day three of my wait when I met you."

Everything suddenly clicked.

"That's where you've been going every day!" exclaimed Aerith. "You've been sitting at the station, waiting for him."

"That's right. Morning till evening. Just sitting and waiting, like a damn fool."

Aerith shook her head fiercely.

"I tried contacting HQ here in Midgar," Elmyra said, "but no one can tell me anything. Troop movements are classified, they tell me. I try to explain, but they just keep parroting that one line over and over."

"Your husband's a Shinra trooper?"

"Right again. And yeah... I know. I probably should've told you that up front. Sorry." Elmyra sighed. "Frankly, this whole family's more or less built on Shinra's back."

Aerith felt herself starting to tense up. She returned the photo to Elmyra.

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna hand you over to the company, and Clay won't either. I don't know what kind of trouble you're in, but I'm not about to forget the way your mother looked at me. Far be it from me to deny a dying mother her final wish."

"Thank you," said Aerith, bringing her hands to both cheeks in an attempt to hide her worry.

Elmyra only stared at the image in the frame.

"The neighborhood was starting to resent the Gainsborough family. Shinra treated us too good, they said. That's what drove Clay to enlist; he was doing it for his family's future.

"Gabriel tried to stop him, but the son was just as bullheaded as the father. From the day Clay turned in his papers, the two never talked again. I was the one running back and forth between them, keeping the family business running."

"Did Clay and Gabriel not like each other?"

"Well, you know what they say. Sometimes fathers and sons are too alike."

That puzzled Aerith. It seemed to her that family members who were alike should get along very well. But from the way Elmyra's face softened when she spoke of her husband, Aerith had to believe the best of Clay. If he was a Shinra trooper, then maybe not all Shinra troopers were bad. Maybe Clay was one of the good ones.

"Enough about me," said Elmyra. "Isn't there anything you'd like to share? Are there things I should know about you if you're going to be staying here?"

Aerith could think of many things Elmyra probably ought to know, but she hesitated, unsure how much of the truth was safe to divulge.

She recalled her mother Ifalna's many anecdotes about the Cetra.

I am a descendant of the Cetra, she thought, trying the words out in mind. The people the world know today as the Ancients.

Elmyra was a good person. Aerith had no doubt of that. The woman didn't just say nice things. She acted. Already, she'd done a great deal to help a little girl who was, quite frankly, still a complete stranger.

And Aerith felt that Clay was certainly a good person too. In the photo, he'd worn the same gentle, honest smile as Elmyra.

But if she were to tell them she was an Ancient...

It seemed the kind of information that might change how people perceived and treated her. The scientists employed by Shinra had been desperate to uncover the secrets of the Ancients. They'd often seemed friendly enough on the outside. But peel back that layer of kindness, and Aerith feared many would turn out to be just like Professor Hojo, ready to cut off skin samples and stick her with needles and who knew what else.

"My mom and I..." she began, trying to choose her words carefully. "We were captured by a mad scientist. He locked us up in the Shinra Building and experimented on Mom. That's why she got sick. If Shinra finds me, they'll experiment on me too. So I want to stay. I like it here. I like the house and the garden and everything. I don't care if we have to eat canned food made by Shinra. I won't complain. Just please... let me stay."

Elmyra's mouth hung open. After a long moment of silence, she reached over the small table and grasped both of Aerith's hands tight.

"Is that all true? No... I shouldn't be asking that. Of course you can stay. I promise to do everything I can to help you feel safe here. So how about I sit down and we finish our meal?"

Elmyra took her seat, and the two resumed eating in silence.

When they were done, Elmyra said, "We're having a guest over tomorrow. It seems like a good excuse for me to cook a proper lunch. Heaven knows how long it's been.

"I like cooking, really. It just feels like a lot of trouble to go to when it's me living on my own. But now that you're here..."

"I like cooking too!" exclaimed Aerith. "I want to help."

"Hmm... It might still be a little soon to have you down on the ground floor."

Aerith slumped. But she quickly perked back up, asking, "The person coming over tomorrow, what's he like?"

"Hm? It's Meguro. One of the number twos."

"Number two what?"

Elmyra chuckled. "Don't worry. I'll explain it all tomorrow. He's coming over to talk business."

Elmyra stacked the dishes and carried them out. At the top of the stairs, she peered back at Aerith and casually asked, "Aerith, honey... You do miss your mother, don't you?"

Aerith cradled the bulky trooper helmet in her arms, running a finger up and down its sharp angles.

"At the time, I didn't feel lonely or sad or anything like that," she confessed to Tifa. "I got to see Mom nearly every night, just before I went to bed. Even on the nights she didn't appear, I knew we were still connected through the planet. That thought helped keep me going.

"And there was one other thing too: the materia Mom left me in the little cloth bag. I mean, it was kinda useless. I tried all sorts of things to get it to cast a spell or something, but it just sat there, emitting its soft white glow. Even so, having it near seemed to bring me peace."

"Sounds like it wasn't so useless after all."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

Aerith touched a hand to the ribbon tied at the top of her long braid. Even now, her mother's materia was with her.

"And someday you'll get to pass it down too," said Tifa. "I wonder what kind of person she'll be."

It took Aerith a moment to understand. When she finally did, she replied, "You know what?"

"Hm?"

"I'd honestly never thought about that."

Perhaps there'd come a day when she wasn't the last surviving Cetra. She found the idea a bit surprising, and her eyes held on Tifa as she mulled it over.

Tifa fidgeted and hurried to add, "Sorry. That was a weird thing to say. Let's get back to your story. I'd love to hear more. Like, what was this ‘one of the number twos' business all about?"

In an unexpected turn of events, Aerith was invited to join Elmyra and the visitor for lunch the next day. When she came down the stairs, Meguro rose from his chair and extended a hand. Aerith accepted it gingerly as she regarded the man with scarcely concealed astonishment. Meguro was a very large, very round fellow, likely much older than Elmyra and possessing bright, laughing eyes.

"This is Meguro," Elmyra said. "One of Gabriel's right-hand men, an old friend of Clay's, and my trusted adviser."

"Hello... I'm Aerith."

The great big man smiled at her. "Elmyra told me your story. Seems you've been through quite a lot."

Surprised, Aerith looked at Elmyra.

"It's all right. He's someone we can trust. And even if I hadn't said anything, he was bound to pick word up somewhere. When Shinra comes storming the station, people talk, and Meguro has his ways of finding things out. I figured it was best to introduce you sooner rather than later."

In truth, Aerith wasn't exactly pleased; the circumstances through which she'd arrived at Elmyra's home were supposed to be secret. Still, the cat was out of the bag, and there wasn't much she could do about that now.

"Aerith," began Meguro, "my sources tell me that your escape has caused quite the kerfuffle at Shinra HQ. The fallout has led to a string of rather unsavory crimes here in the slums: reprobates whisking young girls off the streets, hoping to make a quick gil by claiming they've found the girl Shinra is after."

Aerith frowned. "But how can they make money by kidnapping the wrong girl? Shinra knows who I am. They're not gonna be tricked into paying for someone else."

"Right you are. But when Shinra has its eye on something, others tend to turn their heads too. It might not be so hard to deceive an unscrupulous slum lord who's blinded by his own greed."

Meguro shifted his heavy frame to face Aerith more properly. "You must be, what, six? No... Seven."

"That's right. Seven."

"Mm-hmm. I have a daughter who's just your age. Her name is Ronna. So you see, these kidnappings trouble me on a very personal level."

The man cleared his throat and continued. "I'd like to propose a different course of action. Rather than hiding, why not come out into the open? You'd play the part of Elmyra's daughter, accompanying her as she goes about her day. When people see the two of you together..." Here, he pointed a finger at Elmyra. "... all you need to do is say, ‘This is my daughter. I had her before Clay and I got married.' Explain that a relative was kind enough to raise the girl but that now Aerith's come back to live with you."

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on now," protested Elmyra. "What does any of that accomplish?"

"The goal is to show Aerith's face out in public, where your neighbors can see her. That way, they'll come to know her and recognize her as part of the community. If she lives hidden away upstairs, no one's likely to notice or care if Shinra or a kidnapper tries to make off with her. Think about it. You know most everyone in the sector. If the neighborhood believes Aerith is your daughter, they'll look out for her."

"All right, I see where you're going. But couldn't we accomplish the same thing without claiming I've had an illegitimate kid all this time? We could say she's the daughter of some cousin of mine or an orphan I took in on behalf of the House."

"The orphanage is right next door. There's no reason for them to ask you to take a child in when she could just as easily live there, which means the story would invite unwanted questions. But a daughter of one of your relatives... Yes. I think that could work. Seems more natural that way too. There's only one hitch."

Meguro narrowed his eyes and regarded Elmyra carefully.

"It'll hit much harder if people hear Aerith calling you Mother, just as I called Gabriel Father."

He shifted his eyes to Aerith.

"I grew up an orphan too, you see. Gabriel took me in and treated me like his own son. So, with all that said, what do you think of my plan, Aerith? Are you willing to live as Elmyra and Clay's daughter, at least for the time being?"

"I'd like that."

In fact, she thought it was a wonderful idea. As things were, she felt certain that no resident of the slums would intervene if she ever needed help─her frantic search for a doctor the other evening had made that very clear. But if she were to become the daughter of Elmyra Gainsborough, perhaps she'd be able to live in safety in the slums after all.

Elmyra still seemed to be mulling the proposal over. Aerith prayed fervently for her agreement.

"It's a solid idea," admitted Elmyra. "But Aerith's not the only issue at stake here. This would affect the Gainsborough family as a whole. It isn't something she and I should decide on the spot."

"Then take your time. I'll let you both sleep on it, and we can pick this up later. At any rate, when Aerith does head outside again, she ought to think about using a different name."

The last point sent Aerith's mind reeling. Change her name? She didn't like that idea one bit.

"Now, let me ask you something else," Meguro said, looking at Elmyra. "That little number above your eye. Carlo's work, I assume?"

"No use hiding anything from you, is there?" Elmyra glanced sidelong at Aerith as she replied.

Meguro responded with a triumphant snort. "The young man's proving to be quite a headache," he said. "I can't for the life of me comprehend why he believes himself a contender when a new spot opens up."

"With Gabriel out of the picture, he figures now's his chance. Gabriel was never too keen on the kid, but Clay's got a soft spot for him. Better yet, while Clay's away, it's me and you who'd give the go-ahead. He seems to think I'm some delicate little flower that'll break down sobbing and agree to anything the second he brandishes his fist."

"I suppose I'll have to make sure we're running an especially tight ship for the next while." Meguro's expression grew taut. "Clay does intend to succeed his father, yes?"

"That's why he requested leave. He wanted to be here in person to talk the process over with you."

"Goodness. Certainly that's not the main reason he's visiting. All this is just a convenient excuse for him to find his way back to his darling wife's loving arms."

Meguro followed his own quip with a hearty laugh, and he rose to leave.

"I'll deal with Carlo," he said. "As for the succession, I'm inclined to agree with Clay. Let's save that discussion until after he's back in town."

Aerith glanced at Tifa, trying to judge what other details might need filling in.

"After Mr. Meguro went home that day, Elmyra explained the Gainsborough family business to me. See, Gabriel built his name by organizing people. When a construction site needed manpower, Gabriel was the guy who could round up an army of day laborers on a moment's notice and set them to work. The way Shinra put it, he was a contractor."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with the type."

"It can be a shady business, but Gabriel had a reputation as one of the good ones. He was doing it for a long time too, right since Midgar was first being built. There used to be lots of competition, but as soon as the plate was finished, the other contractors used the money they made to go live topside in comfort. Only Gabriel and his men stayed in the slums.

"Gabriel saw it as a strategic move, and it paid off. See, all the infrastructure to support the plate is found down in the slums, right? So if Gabriel was the only real game in town, it meant that every major repair or new construction project in the undercity went straight to the Gainsborough family. And if you were a laborer, Gabriel's organization was the one you wanted to work with because that's where all the good jobs were."

Aerith traced a triangle in the air with her finger.

"Here's Gabriel," she told Tifa, pointing at its apex. "He was the ‘number one'─the head of the family business." Aerith indicated a portion of the triangle slightly farther down. "Under him were Clay and Meguro, his ‘number two' men. And below that were six others, the ‘number three' men, each with their own stable of tradesmen and unskilled labor ready to assign to Clay's and Meguro's projects. Carlo, the guy who roughed up Elmyra, was a young worker Clay had taken under his wing. He didn't have any position in the hierarchy, but he was gunning to someday become a ‘number three.'"

When Meguro had left, Elmyra came to stand behind Aerith and rested her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Do you understand what's going on?" she asked. "This is a big decision. One you shouldn't rush. Most of this family's business comes directly from Shinra, and my husband is a trooper in Shinra's army. Knowing all that, are you certain you still want to stay?"

Elmyra waited patiently for Aerith's response. Her expression was serious, though not unkind. It occurred to Aerith that this was one way in which Elmyra was very different from her birth mother; she did her best to keep Aerith involved, even in difficult, grown-up matters. And it was precisely because Elmyra tried to honor her desires that Aerith felt compelled to think carefully before answering.

"Shinra's our client," continued Elmyra, "but that doesn't necessarily mean we agree with the way the company runs the world. Don't get the wrong idea about that."

Aerith would have been lying if she said that living in a home with such close ties to Shinra didn't bother her. But if that was the line she drew, it would mean she had to find somewhere else to live.

What am I supposed to do? she thought. What do I want to do?

She looked up at Elmyra. The woman's hands were rough and callused, a world away from Ifalna's smooth, creamy skin. Her hair was dry and limp. She appeared haggard, and the bandage remained affixed just below her temple, the bruised skin on either side looking red and tender. Elmyra had only been at the station to wait for Clay, hoping against hope that today was the day her husband finally arrived. Instead, she'd run into Carlo, and now had the injury to show for it.

Elmyra stared back. This woman─this stranger─was determined to help Aerith along the path of her own choosing, despite all the hardships she was grappling with in her own life.

With a gasp, Aerith realized there was another, far more important question that she should have asked long ago.

"Do you mind me staying?" she blurted. "Are you really okay having someone like me in your home?"

Elmyra smiled. "Of course you're welcome. I'd hoped you felt that from the moment you stepped in the door."

Aerith stood and clutched Elmyra's legs in a tight embrace, uncertain how else to express the abrupt sense of relief and joy on hearing those words. Her cheek pressed against the woman's stomach, and she felt Elmyra's arms pull her in tight, one hand gently rubbing her back in large circular motions.

"I've never raised a kid before," she confessed. "And neither has Clay. But it's not like we started out knowing how to run the family business. We watched, and we learned.

"So... I might not always understand you, and I'm sure we'll have our bumps along the way. Might even come a day when Shinra finds you. But if they do, we'll put our heads together and come up with a solution. Clay, Meguro, me, and you. Especially you, Aerith."

Aerith shifted slightly, nuzzling her forehead into Elmyra's stomach.

"Do you think you'd be able to call me Mom? You don't have to mean it. I don't ever expect to replace your real mother."

Aerith tried the word out, face still fast against Elmyra's belly.

"Mom."

"What was that, honey? I couldn't hear you," teased Elmyra.

"Mom."

"Getting closer. Try once more."

"Mom?"

Elmyra laughed. "I can tell I'm going to need some time to get used to it. But... it might not be half bad. How's it feel for you?"

Aerith gazed up at Elmyra's gentle eyes.

"Not half bad!" she mimicked, prompting such a great peal of laughter, it seemed the air itself was dancing with joy.

That night, Ifalna appeared yet again. When Aerith related the events of the day, the woman closed her eyes and nodded, a satisfied smile on her lips.

"That's wonderful," she said. "I'm very happy for you, Aerith."

"But... Mom? I... I just want to say I'm sorry."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause..."

All at once, the guilt rose up and choked her.

"You needn't worry yourself about my feelings," assured Ifalna. "Focus on enjoying your new life. Did you two decide on a new name?"

"Elmyra says I should choose it for myself."

"I see. Well, be sure to put plenty of thought into it. Whatever name you choose will be the one to set you free."

"I know, but..."

The thought of abandoning the name she'd come to know and love filled her with immense sorrow.

"To me, you'll always be Aerith," said Ifalna. "My darling little Aerith. Nothing can ever change that."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

The vision of Ifalna wavered slightly, and Aerith called out frantically, not wanting her to go. Not yet.

"What if Clay feels differently?" she asked her mother. "What if he doesn't like the idea of me staying in their home, or gets angry when he hears where I've come from? What if he tells Elmyra to send me back to Shinra?"

"Somehow I don't think Elmyra would have chosen to marry a man like that."

"Yeah..." replied Aerith. Then more decisively, "Yeah. You're right."

Her worry eased, though it did not dissipate entirely.

"I wonder what's taking Clay so long to get home."

"Good question. Perhaps I should see if I can find him. Would you like that?"

"Yes. Please."

It was morning the following day. Aerith was seated at the table downstairs, a cup of tea in her hands. Elmyra was sitting too. A light rapping came at the door, and through the glass they saw an elderly man, slight of frame, his skin tanned from long hours in the sun and lined with deep wrinkles.

His name was Butch, Elmyra quickly explained as she rose from her seat, and he was one of the six "number three" men in Gabriel's hierarchy. When she opened up, she greeted the man warmly.

"Butch! Good morning! I wasn't expecting to see you so early."

"My bad," the man apologized. "Must've gotten the hour mixed up. You want me to come back later?"

"No, no. It's fine. Come on in."

Elmyra fetched a sheaf of papers─timelines and permits for one of their contracts, she'd told Aerith as she readied them that morning. Butch flicked through the pages, gave a satisfied nod, and stuffed the sheaf inside his tattered old briefcase.

"Who's the girl?" he asked.

"Ah, that's right," answered Elmyra. "I haven't introduced you yet. A cousin of mine passed away recently. Her daughter's come to live with me."

"She don't got a father?"

Elmyra, usually calm and composed, was all but tripping over her words.

"Hm? Oh, um... he's not exactly in the picture, I guess you'd say."

Butch turned to Aerith. She'd never seen a face so weathered and deeply lined. The man's eyes, now narrowed with suspicion, seemed two more wrinkles among the rest.

"What's your name, little lady?"

The question caught Aerith unprepared, not least because she'd been so focused on his complexion. She opened her mouth, uncertain how to answer, and out tumbled the first name that came to mind: "Ronna."

The moment the name slipped from her lips, she knew she'd screwed up. Ronna was the name of Meguro's daughter. Butch had to know that.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Butch," she continued shakily. She glanced at Elmyra, who looked just as panicked as Aerith felt.

Butch laughed. "Well, I'll be. That's some coincidence."

He nodded thoughtfully, features again relaxed and betraying no hint of incredulity. It was hard to say whether he'd picked up on Aerith's panic.

"Well, it was nice ta meetcha, Ronna," he announced, bobbing his head once at Elmyra and turning to leave. He shut the doors carefully and sauntered away down the garden path, leaving Elmyra and Aerith alone in the kitchen, hearts still pounding fast.

Elmyra clutched her head in her hands. "Oh, this is bad..."

"I'm sorry... I should've picked a name yesterday."

"No, it's my fault. Butch is always running early. I should've known to have you stay upstairs this morning, and..."

Elmyra's composure quickly returned. She knelt so her eyes were level with Aerith's. "What I'm saying is, I should've been prepared for this. Picking a new name's a big decision, and I'd been so concerned about leaving the choice up to you that it didn't occur to me you might need some guidance. I mean, of course you do. You're so grown up, I start to forget you're only seven years old."

Elmyra rose and grabbed a broom. She began sweeping the kitchen floor with short, agitated strokes, all the while mumbling to herself, "... Needs my help... 'Course she does... She's just a little girl... "

Aerith had seen this behavior a few times before: whenever Elmyra was upset, she went straight for the broom. Chores seemed to be her way of calming down and focusing her mind.

When the brief storm of sweeping was over, Elmyra put on a fresh pot of tea and invited Aerith to another cup.

"Our next visitor is Rodin. He's a number three, same as Butch. Comes across kinda flaky, but he's got it where it counts. He's a good kid."

"He's a little kid? Like me?"

"No, no. I just call him that because I've got a good decade on him. Anyway, Rodin's not due till sundown. In the meantime, I'd like to go check the station, just in case Clay arrives. Could you stay up on the second floor until I get back? I hate to make you hide, but I think we've both just learned a hard lesson about avoiding unexpected interactions until we're ready."

"Okay."

"Eventually, we'll get to a point where I can take you with me when I go out."

"I don't mind. Really. I like it upstairs."

"Take some time to think over that new name of yours. We'll just have to bring Butch in on our little secret. Not that Ronna's a bad name, but it's not too late to come up with something else."

Elmyra smiled and added, "I'll be thinking too. And when I'm back, we can share our ideas."

She left strict instructions not to open the door for anyone while she was gone─not even Rodin. Aerith wasn't even to respond if a visitor called out, asking if anyone was home. It reminded her of a picture book she'd once read, about a mother squirrel who warns her seven little baby squirrels to keep the door closed while she's away finding food. When Aerith recalled what happened to the baby squirrels in the story, she quickly scurried up the stairs, anxious to avoid the same fate.

Aerith had planned to start thinking up her new name as soon as she reached her room. Instead, she found herself thinking about the deep wrinkles of Butch's face. Someday, she decided, she'd like to touch them, to see what they felt like─although this spark of curiosity admittedly startled her.

She thought about Meguro's great big stomach too. What on earth had he stuffed it with for it to grow so large? If she poked it, would it be soft or hard? Was his daughter, Ronna, big and round like he was?

And if she did come up with a new name, would the name she'd told Butch come back to haunt her? Would Meguro be angry that she'd copied his daughter's name? What about Ronna herself? What was she like, anyway? Would Aerith have a chance to meet her someday, or maybe even become her friend?

Her thoughts wandered on like that, punctuated by moments in which she nearly nodded off, until she realized evening had already arrived and heard the latch of the front door, followed by the sunny timber of Elmyra's voice.

"Come on downstairs!" the woman called, and Aerith wondered, hope against hope, if the long-overdue reunion at the station had finally arrived.

Aerith noisily bounded down the steps, finding Elmyra at the bottom holding a large paper bag in either hand.

"Welcome home!" Aerith chirped.

"Thanks, baby."

"Welcome hooome!"

"I heard you the first time," Elmyra said with a laugh.

She set the paper bags onto the table, and Aerith peered inside to find them full of all sorts of unfamiliar fruits and vegetables.

"Got the urge to browse through the markets for the first time in ages," explained Elmyra. "Found some good deals on produce. How about you? What did you get up to?"

"I was thinking about Ronna," admitted Aerith. "What's she like?"

"Ronna's a good girl. I'm sure you'll have a chance to meet her soon."

Elmyra turned to the kitchen, placing vegetables on the shelves, while Aerith continued to ask questions about Ronna.

Aerith couldn't help but notice as the bounce faded from Elmyra's voice and the smile from her lips. Clay wasn't with her. He must've not shown up at the station after all.

When the doorbell interrupted the unhappy atmosphere, Aerith was relieved, and she suspected that Elmyra was too.

"That'll be Rodin," said Elmyra.

Rodin turned out to be a tall, skinny young man of about twenty, with big blue eyes and wavy blond hair.

"'Sup," he said as the door opened, followed by a casual nod to Elmyra.

The moment he stepped inside, his attention turned to Aerith.

"Hey, Ronna," he said. "Nice to meet ya. I'm Rodin."

Aerith was too stunned to react. He'd called her Ronna. Why?

Meanwhile, Rodin had opened the bag slung over his shoulder, producing a thin book that he held out to Aerith.

"Here. Butch wanted you to have this."

"Oh. Thank you," she replied hesitantly.

The cover of the book read Let's Have Fun with Letters in oversized type. Aerith's cheeks involuntarily puffed. The book covered the writing systems common in Midgar. She knew its contents well already because she'd been assigned the same primer for her lessons in the Shinra Building.

"Oh? Not your cup of tea?" Rodin scratched his head. "Sheesh. Well, don't tell Butch. He picked it out himself, and he's a lot more sensitive than you'd think."

"I appreciate the present," Aerith fibbed. "I just don't like studying."

"Ahh... Well, that makes two of us. I'm pretty good at reading, but ask me to write something, and..." Rodin exhaled loudly. "Especially if it's a big word, you know? I dunno why we can't just spell everything more simple."

"Rodin," cut in Elmyra, "could we please not put ideas in the child's head?"

She looked at Aerith and continued. "All right, um... Ronna. How about you go upstairs and study? The grown-ups have to talk business now."

Aerith did her very best to give a bright reply, then fled to the safety of the second floor. Having everyone call her Ronna made her feel terribly ill at ease.

Rodin did not seem to stay long. When he was gone, Elmyra came upstairs, apologizing for coming home so late, leaving them no time to discuss Aerith's name before Rodin's arrival.

Elmyra sighed. "Well, how do you feel about Ronna? Has it grown on you?"

"It's a pretty name," replied Aerith.

"Shall we stick with that, then?"

"Yeah."

Aerith paused for a moment, feeling the gentle rocking of the ferry as it made its way across the open sea.

When she spoke again, she said, "I take after both of my moms, I guess. How Elmyra and I settled on the name Ronna so easily, that's one way we're alike. I mean, there are more names out there than any of us could even begin to imagine, and who's to say one's better than any other?

"So I figured, let's just go with it. Things'll work out. Elmyra showed me how to be like that."

Tifa laughed. "But you're Aerith now, right? I take it the new name ended up causing some problems?"

"You have no idea... Believe it or not, my life has been at least as bumpy as yours."

Aerith sighed, and Tifa patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.

It was the day after her name had been decided. She woke up as Ronna, and in the morning they met with Marvin, and in the evening it was Roger, and the next day it was Bauman and then Louis.

Every one of Gabriel's number three men brought some kind of gift or treat for "Ronna." The made-up story spread like wildfire throughout the family business, and overnight she was a person of note: Ronna, a cousin's daughter now in the care of Elmyra Gainsborough, who was running things on behalf of Clay, who in turn stood in for Gabriel until the succession was formally resolved.

Soon, Aerith's little second-story bedroom had transformed from the drab monochrome of its former elderly occupant to a whimsical hodgepodge of primary colors, overflowing with children's toys and books.

Aerith was especially fond of the animal-and-plant trivia card sets gifted by Bauman. She'd secured Elmyra's permission to tack them to the walls, and she'd sit for hours gazing at the many mysterious, wonderful shapes that the planet's life took.

That wasn't to say she was less enamored with the dolls, trinkets, and other gifts; the whole experience of getting presents was new and exciting and made her heart dance with joy.

In any case, between the twice-daily meetings─once in the morning and once in the evening, the guest almost invariably one of the family business's number three men─Elmyra continued to spend the afternoons away from home. Aerith assumed she was visiting the station as always, but Rodin confided that as of late, she'd been seen walking about the slums, asking after anyone who might resemble her husband. In desperation, it seemed she'd begun entertaining the idea that Clay had in fact returned to Midgar, but that he was wandering the sector, unable to come home for some reason.

"That was the night," Aerith said.

Tifa nodded quietly at her side.

"It was dark, and I was already in bed. My mom had just come to visit─Ifalna, I mean. She looked upset but didn't say anything. She only stared in the direction of the hallway. So I got up, opened the door, and saw that the lights were on downstairs. When I climbed down, I found Mom─Elmyra─washing dishes at the sink. She was really going at it. Just scrubbing away, like she was irritated or anxious and trying to forget.

"The air in the front room was thick with the stink of dirt and weeds. And then I seemed to hear... Well, it was like a voice. And I could see a trooper at the door."