Page 191

Midgar. A city of steel, built by Shinra. Sprawling beneath its feet — the Slums. Among them, near the station, lay a corner of the fifth district. At the edge of the area controlled by the Shinra Company stood an old church that almost no one entered. There were rumors that Shinra monitored anyone found praying there, marking them as holders of antisocial beliefs. The church had decayed as though the life had been slowly drained out of it by Midgar's relentless prosperity.

At the far edge of what people called the Slums, there was a corner almost no one entered. Part of the floor had given way, and the light the plants needed filtered down only through gaps in the ceiling — just barely. Stranger still, the flowers that grew here couldn't take root anywhere else. Nothing about it made sense. And yet the flowers bloomed, pushing up through that impossible soil, tended by Aerith Gainsborough.

She sat in a chair, gazing out over the flower bed. The floor had broken open, and the patch of earth that came through was narrow — barely deserving the name — but that's what she called it. Against the wall sat Aerith, who had only just turned eighteen. In this church, she—

 [The final phrase — 彼女は星の営みのひと — "she, one who tends the workings of the stars" — is confirmed as a sentence that continues onto page 192. Carrying over.]

"The first time I came here was about four years ago. When I was fourteen."

Page 192

"I ran away from home."

Aerith said it to no one in particular. Well — there was a listener, but whether she cared was another matter. There never was any telling. Whether he was really listening. Whether he understood. But she didn't mind.

"Faz was Mom's handler, back when she was with Shinra. An enormously big man."

One night when she was fourteen, Aerith ran out of the house. A fight with her adoptive mother Elmyra was the cause. I'm never going back — she'd held that childish resolve as she walked through the Slums and arrived at the last train station. That's where she ran into Faz, unexpectedly.

When she was seven, her mother Ifalna had taken her by the hand and led her out of the Shinra building where they'd been confined. Faz had helped with the escape — pretending to go along willingly, making promises about living together, hiding them under cleaning carts and wooden crates until they reached the Slums. And there, Ifalna had betrayed him and run.

That was the last time Aerith had seen him. He had to still be angry about what Ifalna had done. He'd recognized her — the girl who had grown from a child into a young woman. He wasn't going to forgive her. He was going to punish her in her mother's place. Gripped by that fear, Aerith wanted to run—

Page 193

The fear came all at once. She had to get away. She ran without thinking, until she found herself deep in a maze of back alleys, walls of stacked debris rising up on every side. She didn't know how far the darkness went. She ran anyway, the anxiety pressing down on her like a physical weight.

She was so focused on what was behind her that she tripped over the body of a dead monster and fell — and that was when Faz finally caught up to her.

He wasn't what she'd expected.

He was gentle. Kind. He'd been worrying about them ever since, he said. About both of them.

"You heading to the church, maybe?"

"What?"

Faz had been there once before, when Ifalna had taken him along out of curiosity. She'd seemed genuinely fascinated by the place. It was the destination her mother had called the goal of their great adventure — their escape — the place they'd never managed to reach.

Aerith had never been inside. But she went with Faz, and she liked it immediately.

"Ever since then, this place has been mine. Coming here, loving it the moment I walked in — that was fate. I really believe that."

She nodded to herself, stood up from the bench, and picked her way carefully through the flowers toward the patch of yellow ones clustered near the center.

Page 194

"Back then, other people came here too. Mostly kids. We even had little wedding ceremonies sometimes."

She crouched down, chose a flower, plucked it, and placed it in her basket. A half-formed melody drifted from her lips — something the children at the neighborhood orphanage had taught her. She knew the work by heart. But then the melody stopped. Her hands went still.

The sound in the church was different. It caught music in a special way, made it bloom.

Their meeting had been the spring Aerith turned sixteen. Zack must have been seventeen. He'd fallen from the Plate — from the upper city far above — and when he landed in the flower bed and came back to life, he'd honestly believed he was already dead. He'd looked around with perfect composure, started talking as if nothing had happened at all, and she hadn't known what to make of him — whether he was joking or completely serious.

"He's the one who said we should sell flowers. Just like that, out of nowhere."

Aerith smiled at the memory.

"And after that, we walked together for a little while."

Page 195

He didn't know his way around, so Aerith led him. A monster appeared along the way, and she noticed he was carrying an enormous sword — self-defense militia, she assumed. Then, at some point, he sighed and said the Slums were suffocating, that you couldn't see the sky, and that someday he wanted to show it to her.

"He just says things like that. And we'd only just met."

From that day on, Aerith's daily life changed. Help with the housework. Help the staff at the orphanage. Open the doors of the church. The afternoons that had once been given only to the flowers were now shared with the shape of Zack. Something about the atmosphere was different. Walking beside him made her feel unsettled in a way she couldn't name. Zack was unlike anyone she'd met before — and she was drawn to him in ways that pulled at her from both directions.

It was during a clothing-sort at the orphanage. An older staff member, Tsubaki, was working beside her. They would unfold each garment, check its wear, and sort it by size and gender. Tsubaki had been sighing all morning about some man she'd recently met, her pretty nose flaring every time she exhaled.

"Tsubaki-sensei — did something happen?"

Page 196

Tsubaki had gone to sell the clothes the staff had set aside at a secondhand shop, and he'd been a customer there. She'd kept insisting he was no good for her — but even as she said it, the story unspooled: they'd bumped into each other, ended up talking, found they got along, had dinner together. He'd apologized while helping her pick up her things. Then he was twenty minutes late to their first proper meeting. An hour late to the second. And to the third — the most recent — he simply hadn't shown up at all.

"Isn't that awful?"

"It really is!"

Tsubaki talked without stopping until the work was done. And then — Aerith spotted him immediately. The man who'd been the subject of the whole story. Terrible. He had a tidy face, tall, gave off the impression of an older brother type. Hair neatly combed, posture—

Tsubaki had gone quiet. Her eyes had drifted to the entrance.

"Aerith, I can't deal with him right now. Can you send him away? Please?"

"What?"

"I know it's a lot to ask. Just — turn him away."

Page 197

"Hey — you." He came over. Tsubaki had disappeared into the back. The responsibility was considerable.

"She says she doesn't want to talk to you. Lateness. Standing her up."

"Ah."

"I know. Even if she won't forgive me — I came because I wanted her to hear it. Yeah. She's right to be angry. No — that's not it either. I want her to forgive me, I do. I just — I want her to hear it first, even without a reason."

"The lateness?"

"That was genuinely my fault. I misjudged when the job would end. It happens a lot."

Tsubaki's voice came from the back, tight and sulky: "That's the problem!"

She'd been listening the whole time.

"What do you even do? You've never told me."

He glanced at Aerith for just a moment.

"Let's talk outside."

He went out. Tsubaki and Aerith returned to the sorting. But where the atmosphere before had been heavy, now Tsubaki's mouth had a small smile at the corner of it.

Page 198

There was even humming. Her hands moved briskly. The mood had completely lifted.

"Sorry for dragging you into that earlier. You stood up for me and then there I am, all smiles."

"Don't worry about it. But —" Aerith laughed softly.

"Tsubaki-sensei, you really did immediately go all smiles."

"Isn't it funny, the person you are when you're in love? Like a completely different person. You understand that, don't you?"

"Ha!"

"What?"

"You're doing that grinny thing. All sort of floaty."

"Grinny? Floaty?"

"Everyone on staff has been talking. Aerith Gainsborough is in love."

"Am I really that obvious?"

"Oh, come ON—!"

That night, Aerith lay in bed turning over and over, looking back at herself since the day she met Zack. Thinking about what to say to him next time. Imagining where they might go. On the days she couldn't see him, the ache of it. Just the thought of seeing him made her cheeks—

Page 199

"I buried my face in the pillow and screamed."

Zack came to the church often. Sometimes several days in a row; sometimes with long gaps in between. After she saw him off, the waiting for next time began immediately. The time they actually spent together was short, always rushed. Will I see him today? She'd carry that hope with her, planning everything she wanted to say — and then the moment she saw him, he'd make her forget all of it. Words poured out of him. She kept wanting more. He made her laugh. He impressed her. He teased her and she didn't even mind.

And yet — in some corner of her heart that she was already aware of — she would catch herself imagining the moment he walked away. The end of today. Herself sitting with her arms around her knees.

Missing him while he's still right in front of me.

"That's when I realized — oh, this is who I am. I was surprised by myself, back then. Zack changed me. The whole world looked different."

❋

Page 200

Zack Fair was a SOLDIER, employed by the Shinra Company. He'd dreamed of it since he was a child, and he'd made it happen. His work took him around the world, fighting whoever needed to be fought at any given moment. He was proud of that work. It was the source of his confidence, the raw material of his smile.

When Tsubaki had asked Aerith about Zack, she'd said he was completely different from her.

"Interesting."

"In my experience, it's always like that. So — Aerith. When you're with him, how is it?"

"You know — that feeling when someone has something you don't. That's the kind of person you fall for."

"Has he said anything? Does his feeling come through to you?"

"Hmm. I don't think he's actually said it."

"When he looks at you — his expression, his voice. Can you see it there? Can you feel it?"

"I can. Maybe. But — hm. Wait."

Wait? If people fell for whoever had something they lacked — what was it that Zack didn't have, that Aerith did? What kind of something was that?

It had been about a month since they met. Aerith and Elmyra were eating dinner together — chili beans, apparently popular in the Sector 7 Slums, shared by a neighbor. Simple. Good. Has Zack ever had chili beans? Has he ever even been to Sector 7?

Page 201

She looked up to find Elmyra watching her with a worried expression.

"Lately the house has been so quiet — and I realized it's because you've gone quiet. You're always somewhere else in your head."

"I guess I am."

She didn't know how to bring it up. But she wanted someone's perspective other than Tsubaki's — someone older, with more experience. The problem was that she still hadn't told Elmyra about Zack. But this past month, you've seemed like you're never quite here. Is something wrong?*

"You don't have to push yourself to tell me."

Looking at Elmyra's worried face, something in her chest ached. This wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hide.

"I — I think I like someone."

Elmyra blinked. Then, slowly, she smiled.

"Is that right. Tell me about them. Ah — so that's what this is. What are they like?"

"His name is Zack." Elmyra burst out laughing. "What's he like? Hmm — he's full of energy."

"He's interesting to talk to. And he knows so much — things I've never even thought about."

Pages 202–212 — Phase 2 Translation

Page 202

"That sounds like fun. Is he older? How old?"

"One year older, I think."

"Neighborhood watch?"

"Sector 5?"

"He said Sector 3."

"Is it his job, or volunteer?"

"Um — I never asked."

The lies came out with surprising smoothness.

She couldn't say Zack was a SOLDIER. Elmyra had no warmth for SOLDIERs. She didn't understand the kind of person who loved to fight. Who would undergo special surgery just to be stronger. Every time news about the hero Sephiroth appeared, she was critical. Gabriel Gainsborough had felt the same way, and his son Clay shared that view — and after Clay's death, his wife Elmyra carried it on.

[Note: The family structure here is Gabriel Gainsborough (Elmyra's father-in-law, deceased) → his son Clay Gainsborough (Elmyra's husband, deceased) → Elmyra, who inherited their anti-Shinra views. This is consistent with Traces of Two Pasts. An earlier translator's note flagging Clay as Elmyra's son was incorrect and should be disregarded.]

"There's actually something I've been wondering about."

"What's that?"

"Mom — did you fall for Dad because he had something you didn't?"

Page 203

"That's quite a jump."

"People fall for whoever has something they don't. I don't have anything. I have nothing."

Elmyra went quiet for a moment, her eyes drifting somewhere distant.

"Clay did have plenty of things I didn't, that's true. He was steady. He could see the world clearly. Back then I was so caught up in my own life — maybe because of how I grew up"

She paused, turning something over.

"When I met Clay, my heart was always wound tight. Always making noise. So when I met him—"

"How was he different?"

"We were about the same age — I was sixteen, seventeen. At least we were both adults. So at your age—"

"When you met Clay — was it like finding a kindred spirit? You know what I mean? Not jealousy exactly — not wanting what the other person has — but finding someone who can share your joy and sadness. Is that what it was?"

"Hm."

Yes. Or — finding a kindred spirit. Falling for someone that way — do you understand that feeling?

Page 204

"So what do the two of you actually do together? Oh — I can think of several things, as the mother of a girl your age, that I ought to say—"

"We just meet and talk."

"For example?"

"For example—"

She shared a few episodes. Searching together for a kid who'd stolen a wallet. Going shopping at the market. The plan to build a cart and sell flowers — she got carried away telling it. How embarrassing. She kept going anyway.

❋

That night she couldn't sleep. People fall for whoever can share their joy and sadness. Elmyra's words stayed with her.

What impressed Aerith about Zack was how he dispatched monsters without a moment's hesitation. A monster had appeared in front of them outside the church — she'd lost count of how many times now. He'd said afterward, almost to himself, that he felt like a monster. His eyes had dropped.

Aerith thought back to it. And Zack had said the Slums were suffocating because there was no sky — looking up through the gaps in the Plate at that narrow strip of—

Page 205

—Aerith had felt afraid of the sky since she was small. It wasn't normal, she knew. Too vast. Like it might swallow her whole. When she confessed that to Zack, he laughed and said there was no such thing as normal. Was he talking to himself? To the part of himself that had chosen to become a SOLDIER — to live a life so unlike everyone else's? That shadow was always there in the corner of his heart, she sensed. He felt it and fell into it, and then tried to chase the loneliness away. Maybe he was standing in the same place as Aerith, after all.

The word special — in an unguarded moment — Zack, who had chosen his own path, and Aerith, who carried the rare blood of the Cetra. They were different. But they were walking similar roads.

"Sorry. I'm not normal."

He'd said that on the very day they met. The lonely profile he'd shown just for that instant — Aerith still remembered it. Loneliness was like a hole at the center of the heart, swallowing up even happy moments, even joy, the instant they arrived. Maybe they had found each other precisely to fill that hole in one another.

Meeting Zack had been fate after all, Aerith thought quietly — and nodded to herself. But in that same moment, unease came rushing in like a wave. Because for her, fate was also the word that represented her birth mother's unhappy life. Ifalna had lived a life that could hardly be called happy — as a Cetra — and had returned to the Planet young.

❋

That was the fate of the Cetra. The thought drifted through her: was that the fate she had inherited? Fate had two faces — joy and sorrow. Please, she wished, with real desperation. Please, only show me the joyful one.

Page 206

✉

Are you well? I'm well. Today I turned 18. Congratulations, me. I'm an adult now. Or I'm supposed to be — Zack, are you 19? Or are you still 18? I don't know your birthday. It's been almost five months since then. Tell me next time. I miss you.

❋

"You look well. Want to come home with me?"

Page 207

She spoke softly to the white flowers, working quickly, easing each one up from the soil without damaging the roots. Then she set them in a bucket with a shallow layer of water.

"Oh, you're about ready too. Come on home."

Her reason for coming to the church was the flowers — harvesting them, tending to them. The task was simple: find the plants that had grown full enough and were just about to bloom, lift them carefully from the ground, and carry them home. There, she would replant them in the garden, or trim the stems and sell them. As a plant was removed, the space it left would be filled by the next one coming up.

The land around Midgar had once apparently been fairly lush — before the reactors. Now it was wasteland. The flower bed in the church and the garden at the Gainsborough house were the exception: flowers brought out from those special places and replanted anywhere else would wither almost immediately, as though the Mako reactors had drained the very life from the soil.

She'd told Zack about it once — how strange it was, that only here the flowers bloomed. He'd laughed it off. The world is full of strange things. If you worried about all of them, you'd go mad. She wanted to hear that bright voice again.

"Only our garden, right? Flowers growing only here — don't you think that's strange?"

Page 208

She pressed the cell phone she always carried to her ear. Zack had lent it to her not long after they met. It didn't connect to anything now. She was careful to keep the battery from dying.

Two heavy knocks on the church door.

"Coming!"

As a descendant of the Cetra, Aerith was under Shinra's protection. No one knew where others who carried that lineage might be lurking. There was always the threat of monsters, of course. Losing her would be an enormous loss for Shinra — and the risks of abduction or worse were constant. She was free to live her life, but only within designated boundaries. The church was in a dangerous area; she could come here, but only within the limits of the specified zone.

That zone was the Sector 5 Slums. The monster carcasses she'd seen the night she ran away at fourteen — those had been their work. Thanks to them, Aerith could come to the church at all.

At first she only knew they were there when she was in danger — appearing from nowhere — or when she tried to leave Sector 5. Gradually she grew used to their presence, and it became part of her daily life. The knock at the door meant: it's getting late, time to go home.

Page 209

"Okay — whoever's in the church today, I'm heading home."

She set down what she was carrying. She wrote letters to Zack almost every night. Of those, she only sealed and handed to the Turks the ones she could still read the next morning without cringing. Then she raised her voice toward the empty street outside.

"Take care of the letter, okay? I hope it reaches him."

She'd gotten used to talking to no one in particular.

"Any word from Zack?"

She only got an answer when Reno was on duty. The talkative Turk with the burning red hair.

"Nope."

"Even if there was word, it wouldn't necessarily get back to us. Don't you get tired of asking? If Zack was going to contact anyone, it'd be—"

"What even is this, every single time?"

"You, obviously."

"Maybe so."

"It's been about six months now, hasn't it?"

"Only six months."

Page 210

"Could be dead."

"Can't be," Aerith said flatly.

"Fair enough. Ancient instinct. That leaves one other possibility."

"What possibility?"

"Hard one to say out loud."

"Tell me and I'll go straight home right now."

"Get home first, then I'll tell you."

"Mean Turk."

There's no winning this. Aerith left the church and walked without looking sideways. She was nearly running by the end. The artificial sun that lit the Slums was just beginning its evening performance when she arrived home and knelt in the garden to replant the flowers from the bucket — and felt a presence behind her.

"Reno, right? Come on, tell me."

"We genuinely don't know where Zack Fair is. The 'he's dead' theory only works if you refuse to—"

"What's the other one?"

"It's a common story. You got left behind. He moved on. That explains everything."

Page 211

Aerith kept working in silence. She had considered that possibility countless times. It was always there. She didn't want him to see her waver. She'd known it without being told.

"You already know, don't you? You just don't want to admit it. And that's fine. I get it. But — wanting a reply—"

"I wrote it in the letters. He's not the kind of person who ignores someone."

"Deliver them? We take the letters. We'll arrange delivery if we find out where he is — that was the agreement. Aerith had heard the same thing from Tseng. Zack had been unaccounted for these five months. That was, most likely, a fact."

"He's someone who reads them. If he read them, he'd reply. If he didn't reply, it means he hasn't read them. That's what I believe."

"Hm."

"Hey."

"Find someone new."

Aerith grabbed a fistful of soil and threw it in the direction of Reno's voice.

✉

Are you well? Something awful happened today.

❋

Page 212

"Aerith."

She looked up from the dinner table at Elmyra's voice.

"Not hungry?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"Sorry — recently?"

"Then eat."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"You're eighteen now, you know."

"I miss that mouth of yours. Always moving."

There had been a time — she was aware of it, aware that she was different from before — when she'd talked constantly, about anything that came into her head. To give Elmyra a reason to smile. To make herself likeable. To make sure she would be allowed to stay.

P.S. Other topics are also very welcome. Either way, let me know!

[Translator's note: The P.S. at the bottom of p.212 appears to be the tail end of a letter to Zack — likely a continuation of the ✉ fragment at the bottom of p.211, cut off by the section break and the scene shift. The juxtaposition with Aerith going quiet at dinner is almost certainly intentional on Nojima's part.]

End of Pages 202–212.

Notes for this chunk:

The letter on p.206 is Aerith's first ✉ passage in the translation — I've rendered it with line breaks to preserve the epistolary rhythm. The closing I miss you is a clean rendering of 会いたいなあ, which is softer and more wistful in Japanese than a direct "I want to see you."

The Reno scene on pp.209–211 establishes his voice clearly — sardonic, deflecting, but not actually unkind. I've kept his speech clipped and a little rough.

Page 213

That feeling hadn't changed. But there were more things now that she couldn't say, couldn't find the words for — and so she'd gone quiet. That part was true.

"What is it this time? Are you thinking of leaving home? Why?"

"I was just thinking — don't you have to leave home to become an adult?"

"You don't have to leave home to become an adult. That's just how it is. You've grown up right before my eyes, anyone can see that. And when I imagined this house without you in it — I felt lonely. I know I should be proud. A child I raised, becoming her own person. I know that. But still."

Smack! Elmyra gave both her own cheeks a light slap. "When the time comes, don't you worry about me. Just go. Though last time it was practically a midnight escape."

"What do you mean?"

"To be with Clay, I had no other choice. His family was against it. The Gainsbouroughs had deep ties to Shinra, and my parents despised Shinra — so the only option was to just do it. When your time comes — let me see you off properly. All right? You're allowed to stay. Longer."

"I know. But I'm not thinking about that at all. Not even a little. Can't I just stay?"

"Of course. Then let me help you with whatever's on your mind."

"What?"

Page 214

"What's been troubling you lately?"

She still hadn't said anything about losing track of Zack. She'd wanted to, plenty of times. The opportunities had been there. But she never had.

Elmyra suddenly let out a loud, deliberate cough.

Did you two break up?

Aerith fished a meatball out of her soup and ate it. Elmyra did the same. They chewed in silence. Finally Aerith, who finished first, spoke.

"We didn't break up."

"Recently?"

"Mm — it's been several months."

"My, my. That long."

"I just — I don't know what's happening."

"He disappeared."

"He disappeared?"

"Yes."

"Are you doing anything? To try to reach him?"

"I'm trying. Letters—"

Page 215

She wasn't supposed to tell anyone about giving letters to the Turks. Was it all right to say now? She'd have to tell her Zack was a SOLDIER too.

"—if they find out where he is, they'll deliver them. I leave them with the Turks. That's the arrangement."

"All at once, just like that."

"A SOLDIER?"

"I think so. Sorry. I thought you wouldn't like it, Mom — our family and Shinra being what they are. I didn't think you'd want me involved with anyone from Shinra."

"I kept it from you because it felt like mine to keep."

"Well, it was something like a subcontract relationship, wasn't it. Did he leave that work?"

Elmyra stopped and looked at the flowers on the table. Searching for words.

"A SOLDIER — that does worry me. It's dangerous work."

"It's not about you, honestly. So — is it wrong to be friendly with people from Shinra? Taking over after my father-in-law was too much for me. And as you probably know, the time had simply come. I've been with the Turks a long time and I'm fond of them. Shinra and this house, it seems like a relationship that can't ever really be cut. But I'm fond of them. The Turks. We go back."

She worked from morning to night. "So no, being friendly with Shinra people — that's not wrong."

"It's not about you, honestly."

Page 216

"Zack is a SOLDIER — so his location isn't known. SOLDIERs are like that. So just wait as long as you need to."

"I wonder if I've been left behind."

No word for so long. He hasn't come to see me. Could he really not want to see me?

"Maybe."

"Mom—"

"If that's the situation, then all you can do is wait for him to reach out. But I knew Zack — or felt I did. You can't control another person. When a life returns to the Planet, when it flows back into the Lifestream — I can sense that. So far, I haven't."

The news about Sephiroth — the SOLDIER they called a hero — had just broken. He was dead.

"I'm worried. But I think he's all right. If something had happened, I'd know. That's something I can feel. Right now — that worry isn't there."

There was a rustling as Elmyra stood. Aerith slid her soup bowl aside, folded her arms on the table, and buried her face in them. The tears came quietly. It was humiliating — but maybe Reno had been right. I don't know Zack, but I know this much: you wouldn't fall for the kind of SOLDIER who'd just walk away. Especially not a SOLDIER. So there's a reason he can't reach out, even if he wants to.

Page 217

Aerith laid her hand over Elmyra's, which had come to rest on her shoulder. She looked out through the living room window into the dark. It felt like something in her body was swaying. The flowers in the garden were illuminated, and nearby, something stirring. As if in response to that trembling — her blood was restless.

A little past midnight. Aerith couldn't sleep.

❋

The flowers were moving. Their lives, rising up in the night. The Lifestream — someone was dying. Life flowing back into the Planet. It happened to every living thing, but only the Cetra could feel it. Whether this unease was part of that, or just her own feelings — she couldn't tell.

Aerith retreated to her room.

When she was tending the flower bed in the church, she heard something move up near the ceiling. She put down her work and headed deeper into the nave — through the hall beyond, up through the debris-strewn passage, past the second-floor gallery to the third-floor corridor near the rafters.

Angel was huddled in a corner of the gallery. Aerith crouched in front of him and gave one of his front paws a gentle nudge. A small growl.

She felt relief at the response.

Page 218

"Hey — do you remember?"

Back when Zack was still here. August of last year. Summer at seventeen. Junon had reported monster activity, and the notice had gone out across all of Midgar — avoid unnecessary travel. Shinra's military elite, including SOLDIER units, had been deployed. President Shinra announced on the street monitors that it would be resolved in two or three days. The Slums were tense. Even so, Aerith kept leaving the house, spending more and more time at the church. Partly because knowing Zack was fighting somewhere made it impossible to stay still. But more than that — there was something she wanted to believe: that praying for his safety in a place that was special to both of them might somehow reach him. That was the hope she held onto. That maybe she'd even see him.

It'll reach him. I want to believe that.

Then — September sixteenth. That day too, she ran. Up the stone steps out front, through the door, inside. Relief at finding no one there — then disappointment that he wasn't there either. And then she felt something above her, looked up, and it descended.

Page 219

A monster, gliding down. It was enormous — like a giant bird at first glance. But looking closer, it was less bird than dog. A large, dark dog, its body covered in a sleek, hard-looking hide. A large right wing and a small left wing, mismatched — and it drifted down, softly, between Aerith and the door.

(I'm going to be killed. I'm going to die.)

Her chest clenched with regret. I have to deal with this myself. But almost immediately she reconsidered. The Turks will come. Can I get around it to the door? Run to the back?

The monster growled.

"I'm not strong, okay? You're bigger — that gives you an advantage. And soon, scary people will come. Scary and strong. So you'd be better off leaving. Please, don't attack me."

The monster spread its wings wide.

"Oh—"

Looking at those mismatched wings fully extended, she found it beautiful. And then the fear disappeared. What came next — was it joy? There was sadness in it too.

"Oh. I see."

Page 220

In this church, the Planet and herself and the creature before her — all connected, right now — Aerith accepted that feeling without a single question. But even as she stood before the monster blocking her path—

—the door burst open.

It was Zack's smile that came flying in. Then the smile vanished.

"Zack!"

He reached back quickly for the sword on his back — but stopped short of drawing it, perhaps not wanting to provoke the creature. He edged forward slowly, hand still on the hilt.

(No.)

She had to tell Zack: there was no need to fight. The monster had no intention of attacking her. Then Zack looked up sharply — past her — toward the front door. One of Shinra's new weapons, deployed against the monster threat. She'd seen it on the street monitors: an autonomous Shinra combat unit. The name was something — something Head.

"Angeal Copy."

The monster lifted its head.

Zack, with surprise still on his face, turned his back to the creature and ran to Aerith.

Page 221

It moved strangely — as if it couldn't decide. Monster or Zack — which to attack? I'm like a monster — Zack's own words came back to her. And then, before she could think, the creature moved — faster than anything — and she couldn't follow what happened. It charged the Shinra weapon. The machine broke apart in a small explosion, scattering debris and the smell of Mako.

"Did it protect us — the Angeal Copy?"

It had protected Zack. Protected both of them. Aerith couldn't think of it any other way.

"And after that — we made the flower-selling wagon. Were you watching?"

They'd been planning it for a while. For Zack, the cart was less about the dream of selling flowers and more about something to keep them moving — walking beside each other, a small cart loaded with flowers, just a little longer together. That was what drove him. Finishing it had been pure joy.

He was always busy. Every time his phone rang, she felt his back growing a little more distant. Her attachment to the wagon — it had been less about the flowers and more about a small, quiet wish to hold onto the time they had.

Page 222

The two of them going quiet together. Actually selling flowers in the park. And alongside the joy, a steady undercurrent of dread — that this happy dream would end. She smiled ruefully at herself for being so greedy, but the dread never left.

Something about Zack's mood had been different. A special mission. That was all. She tried to accept it, but the unease wouldn't settle.

Would he laugh this away for me? Should I not bother him at work? He must be somewhere far away. She told herself all of this. And then her finger pressed the call button on its own. Stop. Zack will come back the same as always. Just wait for that. The call took a long time to connect. This is the last time. She made that promise to no one, and called. And it connected.

"Yeah. I got it. I'll be waiting."

"It's a promise."

That was — for now — the last conversation.

"A lot has happened since then."

Page 223

Aerith stroked Angel's head. A faint, fleeting sensation — unpleasant, gone almost instantly. Pain flowing directly into the heart, like a splinter. A flash of irritation, sharp and clean. Then it was gone. Maybe inside Angel, monster and angel lived side by side. That was how Aerith imagined it.

"Those thugs were really scary though. Thank you for that time."

Warugaki — it was Elmyra's word for them. Young girls especially had to be careful. They ran in packs, threatening people for fun. Committing crimes out of greed and excitement. Never get involved with them, she'd been told since childhood. Two such incidents had happened in the past six months. The first was last October — about a month after Zack's messages had stopped.

Aerith had been near the wall of the church. The Turks always knocked first — only Zack would just throw the door open — and in her rush she'd felt a flash of embarrassed hope. Then the door opened.

"Look at that — flowers. Just like they said."

An unfamiliar voice. Young. Rough-edged. Exaggerated inflection.

End of Pages 213–223.

Notes for this chunk:

The Lifestream sensitivity passage on p.216/217 is a key moment — Aerith tells Elmyra she would know if Zack had died, and she doesn't feel it. Given the larger FFVII lore, this is quietly devastating. I've kept it understated.

The Angeal Copy / Angel origin sequence on pp.218–221 is handled — this is the first meeting, told in retrospect. The mismatched wings (large right, small left) are described clearly in the Japanese and I've preserved that detail.

The phone call on p.222 — "Yeah. I got it. I'll be waiting" / "It's a promise" — I've left ambiguous as to who says which line, matching the Japanese, which doesn't clarify speaker. Worth flagging for Phase 2 review.

Page 224

"Where's the flower girl?"

Aerith made herself as small as possible and held her breath.

"All right — harvest time. We're taking the lot."

"Hey, how do you pull flowers up? Just yank them?"

Four of them, by the sound of it.

"Whoa, this box is full of bottles."

"Then let's drink them!"

"Stop it!"

She heard the sound of liquid hitting the floorboards. The moment she realized what they were doing, Aerith was on her feet before she could stop herself. The shame of being able to do nothing but wait — while they made crude jokes and laughed — was unbearable. She couldn't claim any right to the flowers, strictly speaking. But to just let it pass in silence—

Footsteps moving closer.

"Well, look who's here."

The man startled, then turned away with a lurch. The others closed in, grinning.

"Stop!" The Turks are watching. They'll come. Please. The grip on her arm was stronger than she expected. He seized her wrist hard—

Page 225

"You'd be better off letting go."

Another man, holding a bottle, grabbed her shoulder. The men only laughed.

She'd meant it as a warning. Come on, be friendly about it! — Let go!

The door flew open with a crash and two men in black suits — Reno and Rude — came flying in. They kicked the arms grabbing her away and struck with their black rods. The men screamed. Aerith pulled free, ducked behind something, and waited for the noise to end.

"Done," said Reno, looking down at her from above.

Aerith stood and looked at the thugs. Sprawled on the floor, yelling. One of them looked almost dead. Rude got there first with the explanation.

"Four at once makes restraint difficult. We didn't kill them."

The arm they'd grabbed still ached. She wanted to complain that they'd taken too long — that was her instinct. But saying it out loud would mean admitting she'd been counting on them. She couldn't get the words out.

Page 226

"Totally fine."

"Angel having another nap?" Reno glanced up toward the ceiling. "We got held up with other business. But you're in one piece, so all's well that ends well."

"One thing — don't mention this to Tseng."

"Ow, my arm hurts. My shoulder feels weird too. It'll probably heal on its own — so, no report to Tseng."

Aerith made an exaggerated grimace.

"Pushing your luck," said Reno.

"Tell me where Zack is?"

What do you want.

Rude asked.

"I'm not expecting a useful answer. Even so — that's a cold way to put it."

"We genuinely don't know anything about Zack."

Aerith glared at Reno. Then shifted her eyes to Rude. His dark glasses reflected her face back at her — glaring, confrontational. I don't want to make this face. I hate making this face.

Page 227

Aerith took a deep breath and let it go.

The Turks visibly relaxed.

"Right. Let's start with those guys then."

The two of them dragged the men out of the church. Aerith ran to the flower bed to assess the damage. Stems snapped, plucked flowers tipped from their buckets, scattered across the floor. Petals ground into the dirt. She smoothed the soil, gathered what she could. New shoots would come. The bed would fill again. She knew that. Still, it made her want to cry. The damage was everywhere.

"You shouldn't come to the church. Your home garden is enough. We can't protect you properly here with our current setup."

Rude's voice, from behind her.

"I want a weapon. This is a special place. Things keep happening here. I'm so sick of feeling like this."

"We're not always going to get here in time. And don't say things like that. Enjoy being a princess. Yeah?"

"That's enough."

Aerith said it sharply. Reno and Rude both blinked.

"Thank you for coming."

Thank you for saving me.

Page 228

"The next time I came here after that — Tseng was waiting. I was so surprised."

Tseng was holding a thin, lightweight silver rod.

"This is a rod — made from a metal chosen for its lightness. It won't take much force, but it extends in three stages." He demonstrated — extending and collapsing it. "Left alone, there's no telling what you might get up to."

"Oh. That makes sense. You're giving it to me?"

"Yes."

Tseng said it without changing his expression and held it out. Aerith took it. Light — he was right. It might be lighter than the broom at home.

"You know what Materia is?"

"There's a small Materia embedded in the grip."

She ran her finger over it — something wrapped around it, so she couldn't see directly, but she could feel the shape of something round beneath.

Page 229

"Yes."

"This is a Shinra-manufactured synthetic Materia — Blizzard. Natural Materia is the crystallized form of spiritual energy as it cycles through the Planet. This has been processed — spiritual energy drawn in, infused according to the formula sealed inside. To use it, concentrate strongly on the concept. Magic is the concept made real in the physical world. In the beginning, speaking it aloud is best. Use the rod as a catalyst."

"Blizzard shouldn't cause major problems indoors."

Tseng twisted quickly to one side — the rod blazed with light and a Blizzard spell discharged. Aerith repeated the word she'd just heard for the first time — the rod lit up — and Tseng leaped aside to avoid the shockwave.

"Sorry — are you all right?"

"I'm fine, but — I kind of feel like a monster. It's scary."

"Normally it takes training before a first successful cast."

"That's — well. As expected of a Cetra."

Page 230

Aerith smiled ruefully. "Tseng — you were worried, weren't you."

"If it becomes a burden, you don't have to keep coming to the church. Small wounds can turn septic and kill you — that does happen. It would be easier for us if you didn't. If I'm being honest, I'd rather you stayed home entirely. Every risk, however small, that could lead to something serious — I'd rather eliminate it."

"You are the last of the Cetra. If something were to happen to you, Elmyra would never forgive us — or herself."

"Yes, yes."

Tseng nodded with his usual grave expression. "And if something were to happen to you — Elmyra would never forgive us. Or herself."

❋

About two weeks after she got the rod, heading toward the edge of the Slums one day to pick flowers for sale, she ran into a monster. A Hedgehog Pie — the same kind that had been there on the day she first met Zack. Individual creatures occasionally wandered in from outside the Slums. The Turks had reduced the numbers somewhat, but this one had come in from the wasteland.

They'll come and handle it. But they didn't appear. Aerith ran.

Page 231

"Enough!"

The Hedgehog Pie was still there. Following her with a teasing, bouncing movement.

Aerith steeled herself and turned to face it. She pulled the rod from the bottom of her basket, flicked her wrist and extended it to full length, and without pause—

"Blizzard!"

The spell hit — the creature froze mid-motion — but then it started bouncing toward her again. She aimed the tip of the rod.

"Blizzard!"

The second cast. A moment of near-blackout. Maybe because she wasn't used to it yet — when she released the magic, her awareness seemed to go with it, flying out alongside the spell. The Blizzard concept became biting ice, struck the creature's midsection, and shattered. A moment to register what had happened — then it kept coming.

"Blizzard!"

"Blizzard!"

"I wonder what would happen if I kept firing spells. I was scared. But I also kind of wanted to find out."

Page 232

Four casts, that she could count. The edges of her vision dissolved. The colors of the world bleached out. Something resonated deep in her ears — the sound of blood moving, maybe. Her knees shook. She felt like she was sinking into the ground.

She had nothing left to answer with. She just wanted to get inside. She gathered what remained and forced her way up the church steps, through the door — and the moment she crossed the threshold, she collapsed.

"Hey, flower girl. Could we get a few of those flowers?"

Men's voices — close, then far, echoing strangely. She tried to open her eyes. Couldn't quite manage it.

"There she goes again, saying things like that. That direction is off-limits. Too much trouble."

"Heard it's good money though."

"Problem! Monster!"

Shouts of surprise, then screaming. In the white light, she could see Angel — vivid, moving.

Page 233

"Aerith."

Ah — Angel.

Something was patting her cheek. She opened her eyes slowly. Tseng was looking down at her.

"Tseng. Where—"

"Do you know where you are? The Slums church."

Tseng nodded and asked her to report what had happened leading up to losing consciousness. Aerith sat up quickly, embarrassed at having been found helpless on the floor. She told him: she'd used magic on the monster, hadn't had the energy to answer when the men spoke to her, ignored them, passed out as soon as she entered the church, and didn't know what happened after that.

"Who's that?"

"Your bodyguard for today. He was wiping blood off the floor."

A man she didn't recognize — wearing a Turk's black suit — was mopping. There was supposed to be another one, but he wasn't visible. Outside, probably, dealing with the monster.

"A Turk?"

Page 234

"A Turk."

"Trainee pair?"

"Trainee. Goes by Bute." A mole beneath the outer corner of his right eye — it looked like a teardrop. Then Tiro came running over. The other one — the absent one.

"Aerith — I'm so sorry. It was my fault the backup was delayed."

He must have noticed their conversation. Call me Tiro.

Tseng, his report.

"Aerith — when we arrived here, you were already down. A monster with mismatched wings was standing over you. Guarding you."

That's what I thought.

Tseng gave a cold order at that point.

"It took flight through a hole in the roof and went somewhere. We fired, but unfortunately the shots didn't connect. The winged monster flew off — no contact since."

"What happened to the men?"

Aerith was certain. Those men hadn't been enemies. Angel had been protecting her — and gone too far.

End of Pages 224–234.

Notes for this chunk:

Angel's first confirmed protective act is here — he guards unconscious Aerith from the men on p.232, then flees through the roof when Tseng's team fires on him. This is the moment Aerith concludes he was protecting her, not attacking.

Bute and Tiro are formally introduced here — trainee Turks, as established in the glossary. Both confirmed by name on p.234.

The Hedgehog Pie sequence on pp.230–231 is Aerith's first solo combat with the rod and Blizzard — she fires four casts and nearly passes out, setting up the magical stamina limitations we'll see referenced later.

Page 235

"Both are seriously injured, but they'll likely survive. They're being airlifted to the Shinra building now."

Tseng said it without changing his expression.

"Tseng — Aerith — I will personally track down the monster we lost. Please—"

Tiro, pleading.

"When you've finished cleaning, return to headquarters."

"But the monster is still—"

"Tiro." Tseng's tone left no room. "Go."

Tseng shifted his gaze from his subordinate to Aerith. He looked at her directly.

"Leaving this area to trainees was my mistake. I'm sorry."

She sensed him covering for his real feelings — and felt grateful for it at the same time.

"Honest, and a little cheeky. Very well."

He'd started to say something else, then looked up at the ceiling instead. Through the beams, a crack in the roof — and a narrow strip of sky.

"By the way—"

Page 236

"What do you intend to do about that?"

Angel. Who had attacked the men — protected Aerith — and flown away.

"He might be hiding somewhere out of sight. I can't see him. Angel is protecting me."

"You don't have to do anything."

He repeated her words back to her, and gave a thin smile.

"Angel is connected to Zack."

"I understand the feeling. But a monster is still dangerous."

"It's all right. My spell count and stamina have both been improving."

Tseng gave a short laugh through his nose. The rod. Magic for monsters.

"Making sound judgments in combat requires real experience. Please be careful."

Once he'd covered everything, Tseng let out a long breath.

"I should have explained this from the beginning."

He began going through it properly — the relationship between magical usage and mental exhaustion. The effects extended to the autonomic nervous system. In Aerith's case, the symptoms manifested as loss of consciousness from a drop in blood pressure. The severity varied from person to person, but combat incapacitation was a real risk.

"Maybe. But if something like this hadn't happened, I might never have learned."

Page 237

Tseng smiled again at the corner of his mouth, gathered his subordinate — who had finished cleaning — and left. Aerith was tending the flower bed when she heard movement near the ceiling. She climbed the stairs all the way to the third floor in one go.

She made her way through to the far end of the damaged gallery and stroked the head of the monster huddled in the corner — with gratitude, and with relief.

"Angel — you came back."

❋

Angel — the Angeal Copy — was a monster that had been enhanced through the transplantation of cells from Angeal, the senior SOLDIER in whom Zack had placed absolute trust. It had been created by Angeal's group, which opposed Shinra. But Angeal's spirit resisted the violent behavior of a monster.

❋

"But in the end, it's still a monster. I have some pull, but only so much. If anything happens, call the Turks."

Zack had said it quietly, almost to himself. His voice and expression made clear it was a painful thing to say.

"Are you that worried?"

"Of course I am! There's only one Aerith in the world." He paused. "Knowing you're a descendant of the Cetra — that's not something surprising to know."

Aerith had been startled by that. She'd never told Zack. And yet—

"I worry. I'm telling you that too."

Page 238

He was a member of Shinra, after all.

"You knew!"

"Knew?" Zack looked confused. "Oh — the Cetra thing. Yeah, that came up. But what I was trying to say wasn't—"

He stopped mid-sentence. Started again. Stopped. His gaze drifted, unsettled — not like him.

The word catching at his lips. Is it something he feels for me? Not what I mean to the world — what I mean to Zack?

Special. That word. But which kind of special — the kind Shinra meant, or the kind Zack meant?

They walked the rest of the way in silence. It was a comfortable silence, and joy and embarrassment came flooding in together, and she almost—

❋

Word spread that causing trouble near the church would bring Shinra's displeasure down on you. After that, human figures were rarely seen in the area. The monsters remained, though — Hedgehog Pies still turned up from time to time. But thanks to that, she'd gotten used to their particular restless movements, and she could use the rod and magic without overextending herself.

When she brought one down, she'd sometimes hear applause from somewhere. The Turks, watching from hiding. They'd apparently decided she didn't need their intervention. She felt a little mocked — but strangely proud at the same time.

Page 239

News came through. Shinra's rocket launch had been delayed again by interference from Avalanche — the anti-Shinra group whose name kept appearing in reports. President Shinra appeared at a press conference and forcefully declared the annihilation of Avalanche at Corel. Then, a month later in May, a Mako reactor under construction exploded, and Avalanche's involvement was reported.

Avalanche had long insisted that Mako energy was consuming the Planet's life. They weren't wrong, Aerith knew. The energy that flowed through the Planet — the spiritual energy that cycled through all living things — that was what the reactors drew from. Not just the Planet itself. Every life that lived upon it. Animals, plants, people — all of it sustained by that same current. Drain it, and eventually the lives that depended on it would thin out and disappear.

But Aerith thought: even if the day came when the Planet died, it would be an unimaginably distant future.

As a Cetra — what can I do for the Planet?

She didn't know if there was an answer. She wasn't sure she wanted to find one yet.

(Maybe—)

Page 240

Maybe, as a Cetra, there are things only I can do.

As a small child, Aerith had been flooded with images in her mind — landscapes, visions — and she'd painted them obsessively on paper and walls. It had only lasted a short while. But she understood it now. In those moments, she had been connected to the Planet. Perhaps someday, in some form like that — the Promised Land would make itself known to her.

President Shinra wanted to know the location of the Promised Land. He believed that vast reserves of Mako energy could be found there — and so he kept the Turks watching Aerith.

The Promised Land. It was known through an ancient Cetra legend: Born of the Planet, speaking with the Planet, opening the Planet. The people of the Cetra, the land of promise — to return there is the highest happiness.

It was because of that legend that the phrase was known at all.

Aerith couldn't help placing her mother's life against that story. A mother who had escaped captivity. A mother who had endured whatever she had to in order to protect her small daughter. A mother who seemed to have left her heart somewhere far away.

Had she died trying to reach the highest happiness? Had that been Ifalna's fate as a Cetra? Was that why her life had ended the way it did? She had been confined for so long. If that was the answer — it was too cruel. Was that what being a Cetra meant? To pay with your life?

Page 241

(Why only me?)

The hole at the bottom of her heart opened its mouth, and the creature of loneliness inside it began to crawl out.

(No. Stop. Don't come.)

✉

Are you well? I'm well. The time we spent together — when we met — that was an ordinary love. But meeting you — I think that was fate. Still, when I think about fate, it hurts. Zack — I want to hear your voice.

❋

Early morning. Aerith had been writing since before dawn — drafting, erasing, rewriting, giving up — and was burning the failed letter in the garden when she heard Elmyra calling from the doorway. She poured water over the ashes to make sure the fire was out completely, then went inside. The table was set: homemade bread and an omelette. The omelette had an unfamiliar red powder dusted over it.

"I chopped up some dried tomato and tried it. What do you think?"

Page 242

"What's the red stuff?"

Aerith broke up the omelette with her fork and tried it.

"Mm. It could work. Maybe a little less next time though."

Elmyra laughed at the honest answer.

"The dried tomatoes are from the Morales shop. Near the station — that narrow little place. You know it?"

The image came to her: a cramped stall, Mr. Morales's perfectly white hair.

"The dried goods shop."

"The old man is sick. His wife is so busy caring for him that she can't manage the shop. I was thinking — while he's getting better, what if you worked there for a while? If you pass along a little of what you earn as a space fee, it'd help them out too."

"What?"

"Would you want to set up there and sell things?"

"Oh — the old place, right? Really old."

That smile.

"The old man is sick, and his wife can't keep up with the shop while she's caring for him. While he's recovering — I thought you might work there for a while. Pass a little of the earnings along as rent, and it'd help that couple too."

"Hmm."

"You could just sell flowers. You don't know anything about dried goods."

"Dried goods — just sell them to customers who know what they want."

Page 243

"You'd still rather not be near the station?"

The Sector 5 Slums station — where Ifalna had died. Aerith's eyes were drawn, without meaning to, to the place where her mother had lain. That life wasn't still there. It had become part of the Planet, part of the Lifestream. But the memory of that parting still lay here. She still couldn't simply walk past. The grief was still there.

The practical reason she hesitated wasn't the memory, though.

"I just can't do nothing — I mean, I can't really do nothing—"

"Says you."

"If someone talks to me, I can't ignore them. I'm friendly, people gather, and then it's hard to stop mid-conversation. I can't just cut off a good talk. Customers who want to buy things might push their way in. Other people might decide they want something. They watch each other and it all—"

"Maybe so."

"It's only until the old man gets better. So a little money reaches that couple—"

"All right then—"

Page 244

"—will you do it?"

Put that way, she couldn't refuse.

"That's not fair."

Aerith puffed out her cheeks.

"Oh, and one more thing. I'd like you to get out more — the park near Sector 6, maybe? Going back and forth between home, the orphanage, and the church — you need to meet more people."

"Mo-om!"

Elmyra laughed. Aerith finished her omelette — sour, somehow, which was the dried tomatoes — and after breakfast headed to the orphanage to spend the morning with the children. She came home for lunch, and found that Elmyra had already left for work. There was a note: the mushrooms were from the Morales shop. She'd left a risotto. It was good, but when Aerith reheated it, she let it scorch onto the bottom of the pan.

Took a while to scrub out.

Page 245

She sold flowers to a few customers, finished the washing up, went out to the garden to cut flowers. Took them to the usual park. Then the church — tended the flower bed, checked on Angel. By the time the artificial sun had started its evening colors, she'd spent a couple of hours there and came back out.

On her way home, a thought struck her, and she walked over to take a look at the Morales dried goods stall near the station. The little old shop, faded and narrow, dried vegetables and beans arranged along the counter — and behind it, Mr. Morales. His eyes were focused somewhere far away, both hands absently smoothing a bag of mushrooms. His wife must be worried about him. She couldn't just walk past.

"Um—" Aerith spoke up.

"Welcome."

"Could I get some — and some dried tomatoes, please."

The old woman's gaze traveled slowly over the dried goods on display. Something came back into her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh — sold out, are they?"

"Do you have mushrooms? I've never really paid attention before. Then, um — let me see—"

[Translator's note: p.245 ends mid-conversation, clearly continuing onto p.246. The scene at the Morales shop is Aerith's first visit — the beginning of the arrangement Elmyra proposed. Next upload should begin mid-exchange.]

End of Pages 235–245.

Notes for this chunk:

The Angel lore insert on p.237 (the ❋ passage explaining his origin) reads as authorial exposition rather than Aerith's voice — I've kept it in a slightly more neutral register to reflect that.

The Zack/Cetra exchange on pp.237–238 is a significant emotional beat — Zack already knew Aerith was Cetra, but what he was actually trying to say gets swallowed. The trailing silence is intentional and I've preserved it.

The Promised Land/Ifalna meditation on pp.239–240 is the heaviest philosophical section so far — Aerith wrestling with whether her mother's fate is also her own. Key passage for Phase 2 close reading.

The letter on p.241 is notably more fragmented and painful than the earlier ones — "when we met, that was an ordinary love / meeting you was fate / but fate hurts"

Page 246

"Mushrooms—"

The old woman reached to a shelf in the back and set a paper bag on the counter.

"Gongaga mushrooms…"

"Gongaga mushrooms?"

"Gongaga?!"

"Gongaga — it's a specialty from a village far away."

"I had no idea… Gongaga mushrooms… I can't believe I'd find a connection here, of all places."

"I'll take them. Please."

"We usually carry the regular kind too, but today all I have is the premium selection. A little pricey. Still want them?"

Gongaga. His hometown. She had the dried Gongaga mushrooms placed in her now-empty basket. The price the old woman named was a little more than Aerith had made that day selling flowers — but she paid it.

When she looked back, the old woman had drifted again, eyes far away.

Aerith's spirits were high all the way home — even if her wallet wasn't.

Back at the house, Elmyra had just returned. She was about to head straight back out.

"Could you manage dinner yourself? I'd recommend eating out. I've got to go out again."

Worry crossed Elmyra's face.

"Could you show me how to make risotto?"

"Risotto — you're going to make it?"

"A cleaning job came in last minute. I have to go out again."

Page 247

"Is that right. You want to try it."

Elmyra stuffed her cleaning things into her bag and explained the recipe as she went. Aerith took notes carefully, saw her off, and went straight to the kitchen.

✉

Are you well? I'm well. So today — I didn't know you were supposed to soak dried mushrooms in water to rehydrate them. But I made risotto with dried Gongaga mushrooms. Complete disaster. Mom laughed her head off. Hmph. Hey — did you always eat Gongaga mushrooms back home? Tell me next time. How did you eat them?

❋

The soup Elmyra made the next morning with the surviving Gongaga mushrooms was rich and wonderful. Over breakfast, Aerith asked her to go ahead and arrange the stall at the Morales shop.

"Good. Keeps my word too. I'll go talk to them today."

Elmyra looked relieved. If Aerith had refused, she might have offered to run the stall herself.

"Thanks."

Page 248

❋

That afternoon, basket full of flowers, Aerith stepped into the park — and a young man in a pale grey suit raised one hand, as if he'd been waiting for her. Jonas, a regular.

"Hello, Aerith."

"Hello! Jonas — you look different today."

He usually wore work clothes stained with grease. The suit looked new.

"You noticed? Actually — I've been taken on at Shinra. Today's a goodbye. I'll be back sometimes, but I won't be around here anymore."

"I'm leaving now," Jonas said, with an apologetic look.

"Oh."

Page 249

It was a loss to lose a regular, but it was good news for Jonas. Aerith congratulated him warmly.

"Thank you!"

"Thank you! I managed it somehow."

"That's amazing!"

"It's thanks to you encouraging me. There'll be other customers. Today — I'll take all the flowers."

"Mm — half, maybe."

"Deal."

Jonas held out his own small basket, the one he always brought. Aerith selected flowers and arranged them inside.

"How much?"

"Twenty gil. But today is Jonas's celebration, so — ten."

"Really?!"

Jonas eagerly counted out ten gil and handed it over.

"Thank you, as always."

"Take care, Jonas."

Aerith said it, basket still full of flowers in her arms.

"Yeah. You too."

At the park exit, Jonas stopped and looked back.

"Um—"

Page 250

"Aerith. I've liked you for a long time. Goodbye. Take care."

He said it like a shout — and then ran, full speed, away.

Aerith stood there blankly, stepped out of the park, looked left and right. Jonas was already gone.

"He just said it and left?!"

She went back into the park and waited for customers. Almost no one came through this area. No regulars appeared. Eventually, when the time came, she moved on to the church as usual, tended the flower bed, checked on Angel in the gallery.

"Hey — Angel. Someone confessed to me today."

No particular change in him.

"Yeah. They said they liked me."

Page 251

"And — I didn't respond. Right now I'm kind of unsettled about it. What does that even mean?"

Hurrying home from the church, Elmyra's voice came back to her: Home, the orphanage, the church, and what else — the park near Sector 6? Going around the same circuit every day.

That was exactly right. But she was doing it because she wanted to. To hold the unchanging days together. To keep the vehicle called fate running the same road — the road she and Zack had once climbed aboard together. So that someday he could get back on. It was something like a prayer for Aerith.

If she told anyone that, she'd probably be laughed at.

And yet — why had she agreed to Elmyra's suggestion and taken on the Morales stall? Out of sympathy for the old woman? Was that all? She'd noticed the shop had been closed — the window boarded up — and gone to look.

Page 252

Maybe the fate of the Cetra is trying to pull me back. This place too was where Ifalna had died. A place of fate. A place where fate had changed course — she didn't understand it. Standing on the station platform, she'd felt almost drawn to leave — as if something were calling her. She didn't know why. She walked toward it.

Drifting, drifting, down into questions without answers. Like peering into the depths of the Planet. It happened sometimes — this strange feeling.

Ah — there it is again.

And then she came back to herself.

"Oh! Stop it!"

The words came out before she could stop them. Every head in the vicinity turned. Her face went hot. Something more practical. Think about dinner tonight. What will we talk about when I get home.

At dinner, Aerith told Elmyra about the Jonas exchange.

"Well, Jonas is in the wrong there, isn't he — throwing his feelings at you without waiting for an answer. You don't need to worry about it. He said what he wanted to say—"

Page 253

"—chose his job over me, and left me behind. Like I'd been dumped. Like the job and I were in competition and I lost."

"He ran away so fast too. Left there standing there — I really did feel dumped."

Elmyra burst out laughing. Aerith laughed too, still protesting.

"It's not funny—!"

"Mom — hold my hand. Suddenly."

"Just do it."

"If you say so." Elmyra made a puzzled face but took Aerith's hand.

"There."

Elmyra's grip tightened. Working hands. The base of the fingers, the palms — hardened with calluses. Strong, practical hands that had raised Aerith. Not like hands you couldn't touch.

"Being turned down once or twice by a man is nothing. Good experience."

Elmyra's grip tightened again. Aerith laughed and protested.

"Mom — I wasn't turned down!"

Page 254

❋

✉

Are you well? I'm well. I sold flowers in the park again today. That park — where we used to sell together. Something a little frustrating happened — but I can laugh about it. I'll tell you next time.

❋

The Morales stall had been exposed to the Slums' grime for so many years that no one could say what color it had originally been — a faded pink, or red paint worn away to almost nothing. Elmyra had come along to help clean and started out enthusiastic, then quickly admitted defeat and moved on to other tasks. The setup was simple: a counter facing the street, shelves of dried goods packed in behind, and Aerith out front dealing with customers. Two people inside made it full.

(All right — time to work!)

The counter was scratched all over. She wiped the dust away with a cloth and arranged the bouquets. The bright flowers lit up the worn little stall. Not bad. She'd wrapped each bouquet in quality paper she'd gathered specially for the occasion — to give them a sense of worth. She'd raised the price slightly to cover the space fee she was paying the Morales couple, following the advice of a shopkeeper Elmyra often helped out.

Page 255

The first to appear were curious neighbors — people who knew the Gainsbouroughs, who had been helped by them at some point, stopping to say hello. The greetings turned into long conversations. The bright bouquets on the dried goods counter caught people's eyes.

Then a middle-aged man came over to look. White shirt, tie, solid jacket — likely worked up on the Plate.

"Flowers? Real ones?"

"They're real."

"Where do you grow them?"

"I'm sorry — trade secret."

Aerith said it lightly. It wasn't that she wanted to keep the flowers to herself. But Angel might react if someone came looking. Someone might get ideas. She couldn't be sure. The man didn't look like a bad person — or a greedy one.

"Fair enough."

The man leaned in close to the bouquet and inhaled. "I used to live in the grasslands as a kid. Takes me right back. Could I get one?"

He held out the money as he asked.

"Yes, they're real."

Page 256

"This is a dried goods shop, right? Is it turning into a flower shop?"

"No — the flowers are just for a limited time."

"Until when?"

"I'm not sure yet. The owner is ill, so until he recovers."

"So you'll be here a few more days at least. I'll come back."

He left with a warm smile. That was the first customer. After him, a few more — some after flowers, some after dried goods. Aerith knew nothing about the latter, but she managed with help from the customers themselves. About three hours after opening, every bouquet was sold.

For a single day's earnings — that's remarkable.

(Incredible.)

✉

Are you well? I'm well. Starting today, I've been selling flowers near the Sector 5 Slums station. Some of my regulars from the park came too. I found a charming little old stall to rent. But they came after I'd already sold out — I'm sorry I let them down.

End of Pages 246–256.

Notes for this chunk:

The Gongaga mushroom moment on p.246 is a small but lovely beat — Aerith's delight at finding an unexpected connection to Zack's hometown through a bag of dried mushrooms. I've kept her reaction exclamatory to match the Japanese.

Jonas's confession on p.250 — shouted and immediately fled — is played for gentle comedy, and I've leaned into that. The aftermath with Elmyra on p.253 is warm and grounding. Elmyra's callused working hands are specifically noted in the Japanese as a contrast to "hands you can't touch" — almost certainly a reference to Zack, absent and unreachable.

The station platform meditation on p.252 is another instance of Aerith's Cetra drift — pulled toward places of significance without fully understanding why. Flagged as a recurring motif.

The letter on p.254 is notably light in tone — she's laughing about Jonas — which makes the accumulated weight of the earlier letters land harder by contrast. Ready for 257–266 whenever you are.

Page 257

Midgar full of flowers, wallet full of money — the plan is moving right along!

❋

Day two. With Elmyra and the orphanage children helping, she brought twice as many bouquets to the stall as the first day. Once they were arranged prettily along the counter facing the street, Elmyra led the children home — delighted with their small wages, the lot of them.

Walking with children that age — that was me, once. Those memories bring something bittersweet along with the warmth.

"Fresh flowers — real ones!"

She shook it off and got to work. Customers came one after another — drawn by the scent, curious about real flowers, charmed by Aerith herself. Every one of them left with something. By midday, every bouquet was gone.

She was unwrapping the sandwich Elmyra had packed for her when a crash shook the little stall.

(Elmyra's lunch!)

"What?!"

Page 258

She rushed outside. A man in a black cloak had collapsed in front of the stall. The cloak told her everything — Mako poisoning.

"Are you all right?"

"Uugh…"

"Can you stand?"

The man gave a low groan. Mako poisoning destroyed the nervous system through prolonged exposure to concentrated Mako — causing a range of symptoms. It wasn't common. Shinra acknowledged responsibility as part of their support program and promised lifelong assistance to those affected. The black cloaks were part of that provision.

Milder cases could still communicate. But by the time someone was issued a black cloak, that was usually no longer possible. Passersby had learned to keep a polite distance and look the other way.

"S'rry…"

"What?"

She'd spoken to him first, and now she was startled that he'd responded. He said sorry, didn't he. She leaned toward the hood. A face looked back — refined features, a clean line of nose, still young. A large scar on one cheek. He was trying to move, trying to get up. His legs weren't cooperating.

Aerith took his arm to help.

Page 259

"I'll help."

A voice behind her — a different man.

She answered without turning to look. The man came around to Aerith's other side and supported the cloaked figure, lifting him gently until he was standing.

"…'s'much."

"Probably thank you," the man said quietly. The figure in the cloak shuffled off. Pedestrians moved quickly out of the way. Aerith took a step forward, worried.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

She turned. A young man was standing there, watching the black cloak recede. Thick eyebrows — that was the first thing she noticed. White shirt, neatly pressed. For some reason, a faint sweet smell.

"How far were you planning to go? Can you commit to the whole way?"

His voice was gentle. He was right, she knew he was right. But there was something sad in his expression too.

"But…"

She started to object. Couldn't quite finish.

"You're right," Aerith said.

Page 260

The man laughed out loud. Aerith stared at him.

"Is something funny?"

"Sorry. But just now — your face was very easy to read. You agreed, but you didn't like agreeing. I get it."

"You're laughing that hard?"

"Thank you for helping back there."

Aerith put just enough edge into her voice to make the thank-you feel like a small reprimand, then turned her back and began tidying the dried goods — for no particular reason. Once she'd cooled down a little, a storm of self-reproach broke loose inside her. He was right. He was a good person. He helped — and I treated him like that.

She'd acted like a child.

(Aaugh!)

She went outside to apologize. The man was gone.

✉

Are you well? I'm well. Today I helped someone who had fallen. I supported them until they could stand, then watched them walk away. If they'd asked me to walk them home — or to lend them money — I wonder how far I could have gone. What if they'd asked me to feed them?

Page 261

I thought about things like that. It's difficult. But if the same thing happened again, I'd probably do the same thing. Some feeling without a name — not quite kindness, not quite pity, not quite meddling — I think I'd just do whatever that feeling could do.

Hm? Just now, the word "atonement" came into my head. What do I have to atone for?

❋

A week had passed since she started selling bouquets at the stall. She'd started offering single stems in response to requests, and they flew off the counter. She was getting the old woman to help with restocking the dried goods too, when—

"Hello there!"

A large, cheerful voice. Thick eyebrows. The man with the sweet smell — smiling at her across the counter. His eyes had found the single remaining flower on display. The last one of the day.

"Oh—!"

She spun around. He was standing there on the other side, smiling.

Page 262

"Is that the last flower?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"What a shame. Are you open tomorrow? Could I buy a lot tomorrow?"

"Please, buy as many as you like."

"Excellent. I'm Konrad Lindner. Twenty-two. No partner."

"Ah."

He thought for a moment, then spread his arms wide to demonstrate. "Not a bouquet — single stems, but a lot of them. Enough that I could carry them while walking. That many. Could I put in a pre-order?"

"Of course. I think I can manage that."

"Wonderful. What's — hmm."

Aerith was puzzled. That came from nowhere.

"Sorry — that last bit was a joke. I was so happy to find you here, I thought, this is fate — got a little carried away. See you tomorrow. First thing in the morning, if that works?"

"Yes. I'll be expecting you."

Konrad thought for a moment. "Right—"

"What?"

"Of course, I'll be back."

Konrad hurried off — then stopped, turned around, and came back.

"I get into trouble sometimes. Saying things like fate as a joke. It's not good, is it."

Page 263

Aerith watched his retreating back with exasperation. Konrad gave a sheepish look, then went home.

She stopped at the orphanage to ask if the children could help early the next morning — but it conflicted with their neighborhood cleaning volunteer day, so they couldn't. Elmyra, her next hope, was going with the children.

"Mom, you love cleaning way too much."

"You're the one — honestly, agreeing to things without thinking. Nothing for it. You'll just have to carry everything yourself."

"Konrad's order alone is fine, but the other customers won't have any flowers left. The dried goods stock is getting low too — maybe I should close for a day?"

"Just go back for more flowers when you run out."

"That could work actually. Rest day. And I could go talk to the Morales about restocking—"

Elmyra had already moved to the kitchen and started on dinner.

"That's not a rest day."

"How about you actually rest? Do nothing. Take it easy."

"Mom's child, aren't I — here, let me help—"

"No — I'll need you for washing up later."

Page 264

"Aerith."

"Yes?"

Elmyra said it with her back still turned.

"What do you think that Konrad person is planning to do with all those flowers?"

"I haven't asked."

"Does he seem trustworthy? What's your read on him? Too much with the offhand remarks, is what it sounds like — gets himself in trouble because of it?"

"Hmm — how to put it. Scatterbrained, maybe?"

"He said so himself."

"At least he knows it. Well — if he actually shows up to collect the flowers, I'll believe him."

"Right."

She agreed — and then remembered the first day. When she'd rushed to help the young man in the black cloak, only one person among all those passersby had offered a hand. Konrad.

"Oh — you're right."

He's probably gotten himself into trouble before by helping someone on a whim. Maybe that's why he stopped Aerith that day — not to be cold, but because he knew.

"It's fine. He's a good person."

That much, at least, she was certain of.

Page 265

✉

Are you well? I'm well. (If Zack isn't here, the wallet isn't full either) But the flower stall is busier than ever! If you're ever passing through, show me your face. Let me hear your voice. The Slums might just fill up with flowers.

❋

She woke earlier than usual to pick flowers from the garden. Bouquets were easier to carry than loose stems. She used old newspaper for wrapping. Elmyra had made enough bouquets to cover Konrad's order — using Clay's old backpack, which Elmyra had kept.

Konrad's order was for single stems, but she'd prepared bouquets to fill the remainder. The difference in size was considerable. Aerith set off with bouquets in her arms and more bundled into the backpack, stopping to rest every few steps. Neck tilted forward to keep everything from sliding off. Hair carefully angled away from the flowers at her back. Heavy.

Several people who knew her managed to contain their laughter. Strangers didn't bother.

(This is a lot.)

Page 266

If this many flowers are going to sell regularly, I need a better way to transport them.

(A wagon! I should use the wagon!)

Fix the broken wagon — that's the answer. Elmyra might know someone good at that sort of thing. Or she could ask for help.

(Wait—)

Of course. The wagon had been sitting in the corner of the church under a sheet, waiting for Zack to fix it. She'd told herself it was a good idea to leave it there. And yet just now she'd thought of it like any other solution — as if it were simply a convenient tool.

For the first time, she felt it consciously. Zack slipping away from inside her.

(I don't want this…)

"Hey there!"

A voice called out to her suddenly.

"I don't want this…"

"Oh — Konrad!"

"Especially that middle bouquet — here, let me—" He was already there beside her, lifting bundles from her arms before she could respond. The voice was Konrad Lindner. He was supposed to be at the meeting point — still some distance away.

"The ones on your back too, right?" He eased the backpack bouquets free, holding everything carefully.

Page 267

Aerith watched him trying to fit everything into his already-full arms.

"There's no more room. If you force it, they'll be crushed."

"That's a problem."

Konrad looked around.

"If there were some kind of cart we could load all of this onto — I could try to negotiate to borrow one somewhere—"

"How far are you taking them? I have a wagon — it's resting today, so I can bring it as far as you need."

The offer came out fast, before she could think.

"Then I'll take you up on that, gladly."

Aerith smiled as she said it — and immediately thought of the wagon again. Sitting in the corner of the church, covered in a sheet. The broken wagon.

"How far are you going?"

"Oh — that's very kind. I really appreciate it."

"This is heavy. You had quite the journey."

"I really did. I'm glad you came to meet me — I left earlier than I should have."

"I came a different way. It didn't occur to me we might miss each other." Konrad said it with sudden gravity. "I'm glad we didn't."

"There he goes again," Aerith thought, smiling to herself as she walked behind him.

"But finding each other — that's fate, isn't it."

"That's what fate is."

End of Pages 257–267.

Notes for this chunk:

The wagon moment on p.266 is one of the most quietly devastating beats in the chapter so far. Aerith catches herself thinking of the wagon as a practical tool — and realizes, for the first time consciously, that Zack is beginning to recede. I've kept the internal voice fragmented and sudden to match the Japanese.

Konrad is now fully established in his voice — fast-talking, earnest, prone to blurting things that get him in trouble, genuinely kind underneath. His habit of saying fate too casually and then immediately second-guessing it is a nice character tic that mirrors the chapter's larger theme.

The black-cloak scene on pp.258–260 is our first encounter with a Mako poisoning patient — handled delicately, with Aerith's instinct to help and her self-reproach at snapping at Konrad both landing clearly.

The letter on p.265 has a parenthetical that reads almost like a crossed-out thought — (If Zack isn't here, the wallet isn't full either)

Page 268

"That's what fate is."

Konrad didn't wait for a reply before launching in.

"I run a shop — Linden-dō, a baked goods place. I make everything myself and sell it there. Inherited it from my mother."

"Is that right."

"These past few days — I really can't think of it as anything other than fate." He laughed.

The shop had more customers than in his mother's time, but something had happened and some of them had left — important regulars, lost. The profit margin was thin even when things were going well, and cutting corners on ingredients hadn't helped. He'd been racking his brain for a solution — and then a customer had mentioned something.

Konrad had spotted a young man at the Sector 5 station. New clothes all over — but the suit didn't fit, and he kept tugging at the hem and cuffs. Nervous. And carrying — a small basket. White and yellow flowers. Sweet scent as he got closer. Real. Real flowers weren't supposed to exist in the Slums. Where had he found them? Konrad had approached the young man and asked about the source—

Page 269

But the train to the Plate had arrived, and the young man got on and was gone. Konrad had pushed, but couldn't get an answer. Then the very next day, a customer came in carrying the same flowers as the young man from the Plate. He'd finally learned: the flowers were being sold at a dried goods stall near the station.

The chain of coincidences — what was it? He'd come today with the resolve that if he couldn't find the place this time, he'd give up. And there it was, right in front of the shop.

"And on top of all that — we helped the black cloak together, you and I. Remember? Helping someone in a black cloak — you can see why that might lead to trouble, right? And yet there we were, right in front of my shop."

"Ahahahaha."

Konrad laughed with delight.

"I understand. I really do understand. This is fate — you can't blame a person for thinking so. But — you got it?"

"Ahahahaha."

"I understand completely. This is fate. You can't blame a person."

"That time, the flowers were all sold out. And I was so focused on the shop that I didn't realize that was the place I'd been looking for."

Page 270

"That's my shop. Linden-dō — specialty baked goods."

Konrad pointed, and Aerith couldn't help laughing. He has his work cut out for him. It was the kind of construction locals called Slum-style, with self-deprecating pride — walls pieced together from salvaged materials of unknown origin, a corrugated plastic roof nailed down over everything. The overall look, the colors, the thickness of every panel — nothing matched. But the door was new, and the handpainted sign beside it read Linden-dō Baked Goods in careful lettering. Konrad flipped the CLOSED sign hanging from the door handle to the other side, pushed it open, and stepped in.

"Come in."

"Oh — is that butter?"

"Good, isn't it."

The dim interior was filled with it — burnt sugar and sweet baking smells, the warmth of vanilla and butter all woven together into something that could only be called happiness.

Page 271

Konrad pulled aside the curtain dividing the shop from the kitchen, and the full space came into view. The customer area was barely room for two people. Behind the scratched counter, cookies and biscuits were arranged on round plates under glass. Past the counter, the floor creaked underfoot.

"This is the workshop."

Konrad's workshop — which he apparently called a workshop — would have sent Elmyra straight for her cleaning supplies. It was magnificently chaotic: worn wooden bowls and flour-dusted measuring cups lined the work surface, a brick-built oven gave off a faint smell of burning wood, and dark damp stains spread across the ceiling.

"I live in the back."

A heavy black curtain hung at the far end of the workshop — the divider between workplace and home.

"You're putting all these flowers inside the shop? This many?"

"Is that strange?"

Aerith asked before she'd thought about it.

Konrad looked suddenly uncertain.

Page 272

"It's not strange — and I think it would look lovely. But the smells mixing together… I wonder if that's all right."

"Ah…"

Konrad set the bouquets on the counter and leaned in to smell them.

"You think it won't work?"

"I mean — both are wonderful smells on their own, but together…"

"I hadn't thought about that."

"I think a sweet shop should smell like sweets."

"You're right."

Konrad sat down on a small round stool and put his head in his hands.

"Shall I take the flowers back?"

"No. No, it's fine. I'll work something out. Because this is fate. There has to be a solution. I'll find one, definitely."

"Oh — so this was Linden-dō."

❋

When she reported it at dinner, Elmyra was surprised.

"You used to eat there when you were small. I stopped buying because of the cavities — their things are too sweet. But I wonder if they're not doing so well."

Page 273

"Struggling to sell isn't the right word for it. Making things affordable so more people can enjoy them — that's a good way to do business. Cakes and baked goods are a luxury to begin with. I'd love to be of some help there."

The day after she visited Linden-dō, old Mrs. Morales came to the stall. Her husband had recovered, and they wanted to reopen in three days. Aerith had been at the stall for about two weeks. She felt a pang of reluctance — she'd come to love the little place. The flowers would sell out by midday, she told her, and they made their arrangements.

The last three days went quickly.

On the final day, she'd promised to hand the stall back in the afternoon.

❋

"What should I do starting tomorrow?"

"Oh, good!"

Konrad Lindner — coming toward her at a brisk walk.

"Good morning, Linden-dō. Could I take all the flowers you have left?"

"All of them?"

"I have them right here."

Konrad's face went uncertain. "The ones from before — they didn't wilt, did they?"

Page 274

"They're still going strong. But I'm worried I won't have enough. I've finished a new product — I'm going to price it a little higher — and I want to give a flower as a complimentary gift to every customer who buys one. I brought what I thought would be enough for the morning, but it might be a little short."

Aerith looked at the bouquets arranged on the counter and thought.

"That's fine. Thank you, as always."

"Wonderful. And — there's something else I wanted to ask—"

Konrad said this and then, for some reason, looked away. His gaze landed on the dried goods shelf.

"I'd like to buy flowers from you regularly. Each time around this quantity — and I was thinking, with a standing order, maybe a small discount—"

"No, that's not—"

Aerith also looked at the dried goods shelf.

"Hmm?"

Konrad laughed. That's not it.

"I was thinking—"

"Ah."

"My left profile is apparently very popular with female customers — I thought if I showed it to you, maybe you'd give me a discount—"

Page 275

"That won't work on me."

"Sorry, sorry—"

He did have a very well-composed face. She could believe he was popular. But a discount for that?

Aerith had suddenly been pulled, without warning, into a memory of Zack.

"I'm pretty popular with girls, you know."

❋

"Oh, is that so."

"Be jealous."

"I'm jealous. Not in the way you mean, but."

"That much?! You felt bad about yourself for feeling that? You got lonely? You got sad?"

"Konrad — are you all right?"

Konrad was looking at her with concern.

"Sorry. I can't decide — I'll consult my boss."

"Sorry. I'm not — I can't decide. I'll consult my boss."

A piece of Elmyra's wisdom, passed down as protection against unwanted advances.

"Oh — of course. No boss. I mean — yes, naturally. I'll consult my boss."

Page 276

Konrad paid, gathered the flowers from the counter, reminded her to pass along his regards to the boss, and left.

Early afternoon, the Morales couple appeared. Aerith reported that the stall had helped her sell a great many flowers, and thanked them repeatedly for the use of the space. The couple received the fee that had come through Elmyra, and—

❋

The image of Konrad's oh no, I've done it again face came back to her. A sudden rush of guilt.

There had already been a heaviness before they'd even met that morning — memories she'd rather not revisit, feelings spilling over from somewhere deep and soft inside her chest. She hadn't been herself.

(That's why I couldn't receive Konrad's teasing for what it was.)

"I'll apologize tomorrow. That was taking it out on him. I'll bring flowers and go apologize."

Page 277

And then, unexpectedly, a familiar scent brushed past her nose. Coming from a street stall nearby. On the counter of a small drinks stand, a single flower in a mug. One yellow flower — and the whole worn little stall seemed lit up by it. The church. The Gainsborough garden. It had to be.

The stall owner called over to her: "Real flowers — not something you see every day, is it."

Aerith nodded, keeping her expression neutral.

"Heard there's a flower seller near the station, but she's probably sold out by this hour. My wife got this one there. If you want flowers, try Linden-dō — they give them away free. That's where she got it."

"Is that right."

"My wife says the flower language of this one is reunion. Maybe fate has a reunion in store for someone."

"That's lovely."

"Want a drink? Come in."

"Hmm — I'll come back another time."

The owner pointed to the menu with a smile.

"I'll hold you to that. Come at night — full of people your age. I'll look forward to the reunion."

Page 278

Aerith made a vague promise and started walking — in the opposite direction from home.

She only half-remembered the way to Linden-dō, but the landscape filled in what memory couldn't, and the closer she got the more certain her steps became.

(I have to see Konrad today. I want to apologize.)

Looking at windows along a winding back alley, she let out a small sound. Diagonal across — yellow flowers on display. Through dusty glass — white ones. The house beyond that — flowers in the window too. Maybe they were placed there to catch what little light reached them. Or to brighten the dull alley from the outside. Or simply to soften the hearts of those who passed by.

She had never seen flowers in windows here before.

"Oh—"

"Wait—"

(Are those the flowers I sold?)

(A gift from Konrad's shop?)

(The Slums — full of flowers.)

(Either way — it doesn't matter.)

As if guided by the flowers themselves, Aerith arrived at Linden-dō. Different from the first time she'd come—

End of Pages 268–278.

Notes for this chunk:

The Konrad backstory on pp.268–269 fills in his motivation beautifully — he's been chasing the source of the flowers across a chain of near-misses, and it reads as genuinely comic and warm.

The ❋ flashback on p.275 — Zack saying "I'm pretty popular with girls" and Aerith's reluctant jealousy — is brief but lands hard given where we are in the narrative. The Japanese uses a fragmented call-and-response structure for the memory; I've kept that rhythm.

The flower language beat on p.277 — hanakotoba, yellow flower = reunion — is one of the chapter's recurring motifs, now being passed from person to person through Konrad's shop without Aerith even being present. Quietly beautiful.

Page 279

—it had changed a little. A new sign had been put up, with Linden-dō Baked Goods lettered around it and flower petals drawn in the border. Near the door, a bucket — and the flowers she'd sold that morning were in it, faces turned outward. Already more than half were gone. A board leaned against the bucket with writing on it:

Help yourself. Come on in! — New: Apple Cake Please don't be greedy.

The flowers weren't an add-on to a purchase — they were just there, free. She was impressed. And a little worried. He needs to sell the sweets.

She crouched in front of the bucket and straightened the flowers — turning them so they showed better. The bell above the door chimed as it opened.

"Welcome."

And then Konrad's bright voice to greet her.

"Oh! You came already, Konrad."

"I thought sooner was better. And — I'm sorry about this morning."

The door closed behind her and the bell chimed again. Konrad smiled from behind the counter. The sweet smell was the same, but now something else was woven into it too—

Page 280

"What?"

"I think I took something out on you."

"Ah — no, I'm the one who should apologize. That joke always lands, so I just — went ahead without thinking—"

Konrad scratched his nose sheepishly.

"Is the boss not with you? She didn't come?"

He'd asked it straight — then almost immediately seemed to realize the real reason for the invented boss, and smiled.

"The Slums aren't always safe. But — that confession — can I take it that you trust me now?"

"Yes."

"Then call me Konrad."

"I'm Aerith."

"Nice to meet you, Aerith."

Konrad reached his hand across the counter. Aerith took it. They shook — two, three times.

"You're the flower boss. But I don't want to keep it as a shop-and-customer relationship."

"Of course."

"I want to talk as two equals. Boss to boss. Is that all right?"

Page 281

"Of course."

"Not even boss to boss — just — easy, between us."

He's at it again, she thought — but coming here, passing the windows full of flowers on the way, she found she didn't mind.

Konrad shook her hand one more time before letting go.

"Right then, Aerith — let's get to business. Did you see the front of the shop?"

"I did. What did you think?"

"I was surprised. I thought you were giving flowers as extras with purchases."

"That's what I thought at first too! But then I liked the idea of — all these windows getting flowers. So I changed it. Customers started coming in just for the flowers, and then they'd tell their friends about the shop. Some people say they can't eat sweets but they'd love a flower. And giving away one flower to every other customer and asking them to tell someone — it's working."

"Apple cake?"

"Apple — my mother's signature product. But my favorite variety stopped being available. Something happened in the growing region."

Page 282

"I didn't make it for years because of that. But this is a separate story. I tried a different apple and it turned out wonderfully — big success. The people in the Slums might be better off than I gave them credit for. It's priced higher but it sells well. I'm grateful."

The refrigerated case that had been empty last time now held about a third of a whole cake. Konrad lifted it out, cut a slice onto a paper plate, and set it on the counter.

"That smells wonderful — apple—"

"Doesn't it. The texture is something too. And the sponge is—"

"Moist."

Aerith took the fork he offered and cut off a piece.

"It's delicious. Crisp on top, soft inside, light. Not too sweet — that's good. You could eat a lot of this. The price makes sense for this. If you can keep getting the apples, you'd want this to be permanent. What about treating it as a seasonal item — offering it when you can?"

"Right — you could eat a lot. The price is what it is, but for this quality it's justified."

Listening to Konrad talk about his business, Aerith felt it — the way he faced his work. It was something she didn't have herself.

Page 283

"So here's the thing, Aerith. I'd like to keep giving flowers away for another week. Based on how fast they've been going — four or five days' worth at a time — I think once every three days for restocking would work. Can you manage that?"

"Probably. Once I pick them, the bed fills back up, so that timing should be about right."

"In that case — I'd want two buckets' worth each time. And I'd like to pay as little as possible for them, honestly — they're sitting outside, they're not wrapped. But it should still be fair for the work of picking and bringing them."

"Hmm…"

"How about two gil per stem? Going by your pricing so far — if I try to think about what the work is actually worth—"

The work of tending the church, the garden. Maybe even that's too little.

"Too cheap? Then…"

Konrad held up three fingers.

"Two gil per stem. — Don't say two."

"Ugh…"

"Sorry — I've been so casual about it up to now, so I genuinely don't know. But if Konrad says two—"

"Are you sure? I feel bad."

"Really. It's fine. I saw the flowers in all those windows on the way here. I thought that was so good. Eventually the whole Slums might fill up with flowers. But until then — people getting to see them makes me happy. So — two gil."

Page 284

Konrad was quiet, just looking at her.

"What?"

"It's just — I always put revenue first. Making money is what makes me happy, that's all there is to it. I never felt joy just from that. From people getting to see something. From being praised for the cake. I respect that."

"What do you want to do about the flowers?"

Konrad was staring at the baked goods on the counter, feeling something.

"What do you want to do — oh! Of course. Where should I come to pick them up?"

A silence had stretched past the point she could bear it.

"Where should I come?"

Aerith gave him directions from the station to the house. The church she kept to herself. Konrad seemed like someone who could be trusted — but it was also a monster-prone area, and if something happened to him it would be terrible.

Page 285

"You know the house?"

"Not personally, but the Gainsbouroughs are well known in the Slums. I've heard stories — my mother got help from them when she was starting the shop. Your place is near there, or—"

Konrad's face went genuinely startled.

"Wait—?!"

"So you're their daughter? Or — adopted daughter? Granddaughter?"

"So — I'm going to be indebted to the Gainsbouroughs again, just like my mother. That really is fate."

Konrad worked through it. Aerith watched his thick eyebrows go up and down as she confirmed each piece.

"Hey, Aerith."

Konrad seemed, for some reason, nervous.

"Do you have someone you like?"

The question surprised her — Konrad gave a quick self-conscious laugh, then went serious again.

"Quick answer."

"It came out without thinking."

"Yes."

"So I can relax then. My boyfriend gets jealous — real trouble. Someone who liked my sweets and came in almost every day — her boyfriend got jealous and kicked my door in. I can't go through that again."

Page 286

"That's a relief." He said it again. "A relief. Someone like that — Zack isn't like that."

"Right. He isn't. Zack's different."

"Anything else? Anything you want to check?"

"…This is genuinely hard to ask, but — I want to know. The Gainsborough family — there was an incident, wasn't there, a kidnapping, involving someone connected to the higher-ups? I'm going to be honest — it frightened me. When I was a child, this area was caught up in it."

"Sorry — I don't really know. Things at home were normal."

"It was about Marcellus — the son of Meguro, who was second in command. Running away from home."

"I see. So — there was a search, and someone called Carlo came to the house. He was frightening. The criminal is in this area, you're hiding a child — that kind of threatening. He came to our place too. I remember Carlo clearly."

After Carlo's people left, the Gainsborough household had changed—

Page 287

"Now it's different. That Gainsborough family — I don't really know anything about them. It's just a hardworking mother and a flower-selling daughter, living simply. Come and see for yourself."

"Good." Konrad visibly relaxed. "And you're not connected to Avalanche? Obviously I'm not either."

"Right — sorry for the strange questions."

"No — these things matter."

What would Konrad think, if he knew the Turks were watching her? What would he think, knowing the person she loved carried an enormous sword and was a SOLDIER? There were facts she hadn't said, more secrets than before, and the moment to come clean had already passed. The only person she could tell everything to without hiding anything — was Zack.

On the way home, she passed the stall with the yellow flower in the mug again. The owner wasn't visible. She went closer — the flower was starting to wilt.

"Oh — you came back. Welcome."

She turned. The owner was there.

❋

"Just like the flower language says."

Page 288

He opened a door in the side of the stall as he said it. The moment he disappeared behind it, Aerith slipped quietly away.

(I'm sorry.)

The reunion — it had to be with Zack. She couldn't imagine it any other way.

Almost home, a dark figure stepped out of an alley. She nearly walked straight into him. She looked up — and found only an expressionless face and empty eyes. Mako poisoning. The man swayed on, and disappeared into another alley.

"Whoa—!"

❋

✉

Are you well? I'm well. Today — all the flowers sold out by midday! The young man from the sweet shop bought every last one. He treated me to the most wonderfully soft cake, and we talked for a long time in the shop.

Page 289

He asked if there was someone I liked. I said yes, and he laughed at how fast I answered. Heh. That was the kind of day today was. Until next time.

❋

The free flowers at Linden-dō were a hit, and the apple cake was selling well. Konrad had now come to the Gainsborough house three times to pick up flowers. Aerith hadn't thought much of it, but looked at from the outside — he was a pastry craftsman running his own shop, young, tall, sociable. He'd won over the neighborhood children and the orphanage staff with cookies on his first visit, Elmyra with apple cake on his second, and had essentially arranged to be a regular presence at the Gainsborough household for lunches and dinners. Elmyra, for her part, had decided she rather liked him.

On the morning of his fourth scheduled visit, when Konrad didn't appear at the usual time, Elmyra grew worried.

"I made sandwiches — fried cutlet inside. Make sure he eats by noon."

End of Pages 279–289.

Notes for this chunk:

The Linden-dō storefront on p.279 — flowers in a bucket outside with a Help yourself sign — is a small but lovely payoff. Konrad's business instinct running ahead of his practicality, just as Aerith noted.

The business negotiation on pp.282–283 is warm and character-revealing — Aerith genuinely touched by Konrad's enthusiasm, Konrad genuinely moved by Aerith's indifference to profit. Their dynamic is well-established now.

The Carlo/Marcellus reference on p.286 introduces a piece of Slum history that clearly still carries weight — I've kept it slightly opaque since the text itself doesn't fully explain it, and this ambiguity seems intentional.

Page 287's interior monologue — the only person she could tell everything to was Zack — is one of the chapter's quietest and most painful beats. Rendered as close to the Japanese rhythm as possible.

The letter on pp.288–289 is notably light and playful — the gap between the letter's tone and what we've just read (the Zack longing, the secrets accumulating) does a lot of quiet work.

Page 290

"Then I'll bring it."

"With any luck, we'll run into each other on the way — like that one time."

The flowers were fewer than usual, but if there wasn't enough, Konrad could always come by tomorrow. Aerith packed Elmyra's cooking and the flowers into the basket and set off for Linden-dō.

Page 291

When she arrived, the CLOSED sign was on the door. Not a single flower in the basket — it had been a bucket before, but now it was a woven bark basket. The lights were out inside. The smell of burnt sugar and butter still drifted faintly, but without their usual strength.

She pulled the door handle. It opened without resistance. The bell chimed.

"Konrad?"

No answer. She set the basket on the counter and went through the side passage into the workshop.

"Linden-dō? Hello?"

"Konrad Lindner!"

No sign of work yet this morning. Beyond the curtain at the back was where Konrad lived.

"Uugh…" A groan.

"Konrad?"

She took out the rod and extended it to full length, pulling back the curtain with her other hand. Even as she called his name, she was already certain — that wasn't Konrad. Then who?

She moved carefully through the back — a narrow corridor, a door on the right, one straight ahead. She opened the first one quietly. Small, cramped, full of boxes and bottles —

Page 292

—storage for ingredients, it looked like. She closed it and tried the door across the hall. A small toilet and shower. Then the corridor ended at the last door. The groaning was coming from here. She knocked. No answer.

"Hello?"

"I'm coming in."

"Hello?!"

Movement inside.

A young woman. Sitting on the edge of a bed, staring at the wall. Large eyes, short hair like a boy's — those were the first things Aerith noticed. Her whole face was lightly tanned, giving her a healthy look. An oversized sweatshirt, cotton trousers. Sandals discarded on the floor.

She turned her head slowly toward Aerith. Or — turned in Aerith's direction. She wasn't really looking.

"Uugh…"

Page 293

Her eyes held no focus. Her face was turned, that was all.

(Oh—)

Those eyes. Something in the pupils — a distinctive change, like a pattern. It reminded her of the Mako poisoning patients she'd seen. The same clouded gaze Zack had described.

(Are you a SOLDIER?)

(But…)

The woman's state was that of a Mako poisoning patient, not a SOLDIER.

What was happening here? Konrad hadn't shown up at the agreed time. He wasn't in the shop. She couldn't just leave. But what could she do?

She looked around the room. A small round table had been knocked over — someone had fallen, it seemed — stopped just short of the floor. A small glass bottle had rolled under the bed. A white flower inside it. Flower language — it always came to her now.

"I'm Aerith Gainsborough. Nice to meet you."

The floor around the bed was wet. Aerith went back to the shop, hid the rod in the basket, returned to Konrad's quarters and found a cloth by the small sink — just as she'd hoped. She went back to the far room—

Page 294

—and wiped the floor. Crouching down, working the cloth across the boards, she noticed the woman's feet. Thin ankles — and wound around them, many times over, a narrow strip of leather cord. The ends had been cut through, the edges frayed.

"Were you tied up?"

She looked up sharply. The same leather cord was wound around the bed leg. Tightly, many times.

"Ah—"

Aerith sat back on her heels, overwhelmed. She retreated to the workshop and sank onto Konrad's small rest stool.

"What do I do."

The Turks might be watching. If they came in — what would happen? This could get complicated. She wanted to hear Konrad's side of it first.

"I'll lock the door."

She stood and walked to the door. Her hand closed on the handle — and in the same moment, someone outside pulled hard from the other side. She grabbed it back with both hands and held on desperately.

Nearly lifted off her feet.

"Whoa—!"

"—Whoa—!"

"Who's there?"

Page 295

The voice through the door was Konrad's. She let go with relief — the door flew open.

"Aerith?!"

"Welcome," she said faintly.

"Welcome," he said, still looking around.

Konrad came in taking stock of everything. He set the sandwiches on the counter.

"Right — that's why I couldn't come to pick up the flowers. You brought them. Sorry — can you apologize to your mom for me? Tell her I couldn't make it. And thank you. Eat at noon."

He took the wrapped sandwiches out and set them on the counter.

"I'll go tell her."

"No, I'll go. I'll go myself." His eyes were wandering. He wasn't really there.

"Aerith — the woman in the back. Who is she?"

Aerith asked it quietly, eyes down.

Konrad startled — and ran into the back. The sound of a door opening. A low murmured exchange—

"She's back?!"

Page 296

—then, before long, the door closed again and he returned.

"Did you bring her back?"

"No. I didn't do anything."

"She came back on her own then…"

"Will you hear me out?"

Konrad shook his head — not in refusal, but as if clearing it. He leaned his back against the workshop wall and closed his eyes.

"Is she — family?"

"Mako poisoning. Yes. She's Adelia Ash. She's been here for a month."

"She was a regular customer — used to come often. Then weeks went by without seeing her. And then I found her collapsed in front of the shop. I knew right away — Mako poisoning. Reporting to Shinra means they'll look after her in theory, but who knows if they really will. And in the Slums — people treat Mako patients terribly. Some throw stones."

"Adelia—"

"I couldn't stand the thought of that happening to her. Maybe she has siblings or relatives — but I didn't know, and her parents are gone, and I was busy, and—"

Konrad's voice kept getting smaller, more apologetic.

Page 297

"To tell the truth — there was a hot day. The door was open. She looked in and we made eye contact. She smiled. She bought cookies. She came back. Some weeks her work kept her away, and she'd be gone for a long stretch — but she laughed and said she was addicted to my cookies. She came almost every day. I was the one addicted to her."

That feeling — Aerith understood it completely.

"She might have been in love with my cookies and not with me at all. I know that. But I couldn't let go. Seeing her collapsed in front of the shop that day — I thought, this is fate."

Konrad looked down. Then up — a weary smile.

"So I decided to look after her. A civilian taking someone in apparently isn't unheard of. A friend of my mother's who lives nearby helped. And strangely — since I started caring for Adelia, something in me woke up. This shop was bleeding out. I decided to try one more time. The apple cake happened. I found you and your flowers. The shop is doing well. Adelia is like a lucky charm." His smile faded to something hollow.

Page 298

"But recently — she's started wandering. It's one of the symptoms of Mako poisoning."

Aerith thought of the figures in black cloaks drifting along the streets.

"Last night I went out to meet some friends. I'd saved a little money and paid back a debt first. And I — didn't notice Adelia had gotten out. She came back on her own this morning. I fell asleep, then panicked and went looking, but couldn't find her. And then she just — came back herself."

Konrad's face softened slightly.

"Um—" Aerith had something else on her mind. "Do you always tie her to the bed?"

The leather cord around her neck — so that's what it was.

"When I go out, yes." He dropped his head. "But sometimes she gets this incredible strength. That's one of the symptoms too, apparently. It's awful to do. But—"

"The cord isn't the answer… What are you planning to do going forward?"

"I haven't thought about it. Like — modifying the room, maybe."

"Konrad. I really think this isn't right."

Page 299

"Shinra will treat her, won't they. The paperwork — you have to do it. That's what's best for her."

Konrad's shoulders dropped. His face was exhausted.

"That's true. But — there's a reason I can't."

A brief silence. Then Konrad spoke.

"You know what SOLDIERs are, right? Sephiroth — the hero."

"Yes."

"Adelia is a SOLDIER."

"Oh."

A bad feeling.

"SOLDIER Degradation. I'd never heard those words before. A quietly disturbing phrase. She couldn't keep herself from thinking of Zack."

Aerith didn't let on that she knew anything. She moved her left hand to her right shoulder, hiding the pounding of her heart so Konrad wouldn't notice.

"What does that mean? What happens to a SOLDIER?"

Page 300

"The nervous system starts to break down — piece by piece — because of procedures they underwent during the degradation process. Over time it deteriorates. Regular checks can catch early signs and repair is possible, but the symptoms look exactly like Mako poisoning, so it's hard to tell apart. Sometimes it progresses all at once. And — Adelia told him — Mako poisoning can actually trigger it."

"That's… frightening."

"It is. And there's a rumor — regular Mako patients get treated, but SOLDIERs who've degraded are dissected alive as research subjects. So they hide. That's what people say. So Adelia — if the degradation symptoms showed up in her, she didn't want to report it to Shinra. She told him that."

It might not just be a rumor. The face of Professor Hojo came to her, unbidden. A man who saw other people only as material for his research. Hojo would be capable of anything.

"But that's why he can't report it to Shinra."

"I see—"

She understood Konrad completely.

"Isn't there a treatment?"

"Slowing the progression. That's about all the medicine can do. There are rumors of a treatment that goes beyond that — whether it actually works, no one really knows."

End of Pages 290–300.

Notes for this chunk:

Adelia Ash is now formally introduced — a degraded SOLDIER, hidden by Konrad out of a mixture of love, guilt, and practical helplessness. Her introduction recontextualizes the leather cord and the wandering figure from earlier scenes.

The SOLDIER Degradation explanation on pp.299–300 is a significant lore passage. I've rendered it carefully — Nojima keeps it grounded in Konrad's limited understanding rather than clinical precision, and I've preserved that texture.

Aerith hiding her reaction to the word SOLDIER — pressing her hand to her chest so Konrad won't see — is quietly devastating given everything we know about Zack. Rendered as close to the Japanese physical detail as possible.

Professor Hojo's appearance in Aerith's thoughts on p.300 is our first indication that she already suspects him of exactly what she'll later be asked to speak with him about.

Page 301

"That's why I keep thinking about Zack. I might make the same choice as Konrad. But — if Zack were like that — I wouldn't want anyone to be told."

"I understand."

"If Zack were like that—"

She couldn't hide the trembling anymore.

"Sorry — I'll come back."

That was all she managed. Then she ran out of Linden-dō.

❋

Aerith ran without thinking.

Zack, degraded, beyond help — she couldn't shake the image. Had Zack been among the black-cloaked figures she'd passed on the street without recognizing him?

No. I would know if it were Zack. I would know.

(Even if he'd degraded?)

Aerith stopped. Her legs folded and she crouched down. Calm down. Breathe. She couldn't breathe properly. Something churned deep in her chest.

Think of Zack's smile—

She noticed, distantly, that her heart was beating far too fast.

Page 302

Think of something happy, Aerith—

(Bad imaginings call up bad memories.)

Ifalna's voice, from long ago, surfacing.

(So think of something joyful. That feeling reaches the Planet. And the Planet becomes joyful.)

Mom — I can't.

No. He hasn't degraded.

(But it would explain everything. That's why there's no word. Why he doesn't come. Zack might not know anything anymore. Not even himself. And the Turks won't tell me anything.)

Or me.

(Tseng knew everything. He couldn't not know.)

The anger brought a sudden clarity. Aerith got slowly to her feet.

She was on the familiar road to the church.

"Tseng. Reno. Rude—"

The names echoed off the walls of stacked debris. No answer.

❋

When she reached the church, she turned on the steps and looked back down the road. Still no one.

Page 303

She looked up at the gallery.

"Angel — are you there?"

Calling out, she passed alongside the flower bed and made her way into the back of the nave. First floor, second, third — up the stairs, through the gaps between rubble and piled debris.

Angel was in his usual spot on the third-floor gallery, chin resting forward, in a half-doze. She crouched in front of him and touched his head. A rough texture. A low, disgruntled rumble. Like a sleeping guard dog.

The feel of him — unchanged, the same as always — gradually steadied her.

From below, the sound of the door opening. She leaned over the gallery railing.

Tseng.

"Tseng. Zack hasn't degraded, has he? That's not what's happening, right?"

"Before I answer that — a warning. Calling our names in the street has consequences."

He came up quickly, quietly. "There is nothing I can tell you about Zack. Knowing nothing is, genuinely, the reason. But — I may be able to put your mind at ease, slightly."

"All right."

Page 304

She sat on the same step as Tseng, back against the wall.

"I am aware of the circumstances that led to you fleeing Linden-dō."

"I thought so. Listening device?"

Tseng gave a thin smile.

"Now. Let's talk about SOLDIER Degradation and Mako poisoning. As Konrad described — the two conditions are, in basic terms, the same. The difference is that Degradation progresses faster."

"You said you'd put my mind at ease."

"Bear with me. I don't know how much Zack told you, but becoming a SOLDIER involves extended exposure to high-concentration Mako energy over a long period. The method varies somewhat by era, but the fundamentals are the same. The first effect is a change in the iris — that's the Mako eyes you'd recognize."

"Right — the Mako eyes."

"Yes. And the individual's Mako tolerance determines what rank they can reach. From Second upward, the ranking takes many factors into account, but Mako endurance is weighted heavily. Not everyone who qualifies makes it to First."

He could see where Tseng was going.

"Adelia Ash is a Second. Recently promoted from Third. Her tolerance, on record, is not significantly above the general population."

Page 305

"So — Zack wouldn't degrade in just a few years? He wouldn't develop Mako poisoning?"

Tseng stood slowly, brushing off the dust.

"Thank you for telling me."

So why won't Zack send even a single message? The sound of Tseng's footsteps receding.

(Wait — what?)

Why had Tseng gone out of his way to explain Degradation at all? Was that what he wanted to tell her? Zack hasn't degraded. He doesn't have Mako poisoning.

(In that case — maybe he's just left me.)

But she didn't want to accept that. Not until she heard it from him directly.

"Oh… I'm awful."

If it had been Degradation — Zack's silence would have made sense. She could have accepted it. Had some part of her been hoping for that?

✉

I always start with "are you well, I'm well" — but it's more like a charm than anything else, not really connected to whether Zack is actually well or whether I'm actually well. I believe you're all right, and I want to be all right too. But today I found myself thinking about it. The possibility that Zack isn't all right. What that might look like — I couldn't stop wondering. I don't know what to do with this feeling.

When I think about reasons, it gets painful again. But it's not just that — there's also the possibility that you're fine and still can't reach me—

Page 306

That must be it. Tseng wanted to tell me — Zack is all right. And he wanted me to think about why someone who's all right still can't make contact.

I've thought about that so many times. I just don't want to accept it. If it's over, I want to hear that properly. Is this how it ends? I don't know. Writing this is hard.

But — I love Zack. That's certain. I remember everything that was good. Everything that made me happy. Time passes and I love him. I remember everything.

Oh — I think I've already accepted that I might not see him again.

❋ ❋

Aerith had been suddenly busy. Days rushing past in a blur. Konrad she hadn't seen for some time — the flowers apparently weren't needed for now.

A senior staff member at the orphanage had hurt her back and gone on leave, and Aerith had stepped in to fill the gap. Up early with the children. After lunch, if other staff were available—

Page 307

—she'd go to the church. If not, she stayed at the facility until evening. Near home, on the busier street, she'd set up for one hour to sell flowers.

Adelia was on her mind, but she hadn't gone to see her.

The last of the flowers had just sold. Dinner hour — cooking smells drifting from every direction.

❋

"Aerith!"

Konrad Lindner was coming down the street.

"Selling at this hour, are you. How's Linden-dō?" He seemed completely unbothered.

"Good. Haven't seen you in days. Things are going pretty well, actually. But more importantly — Adelia went missing again. It's been about three hours."

"Oh no. I haven't seen her around here. Um—" Konrad continued, as if reluctant to ask. "Could you help me look? This area — I don't know my way around it very well."

Page 308

"Of course. Give me one moment."

She went home and told Elmyra she'd be out for a while — the words came out before she'd even thought about it. That was just who she was.

"Where are you going?"

"Not sure yet." I haven't told Elmyra about Adelia.

"Ah — Konrad." The worry faded from Elmyra's voice. "He'll walk you home."

Elmyra had, from the start, seemed to have the wrong idea about the two of them. Aerith had never quite gotten around to correcting it. We're not like that, she thought — but saying so felt like more trouble than it was worth.

They walked the nearby lanes together, going slowly and carefully down each alley one by one. Then Konrad said, in a strangely quiet voice:

"Hey — Aerith. You don't actually worry that much about Adelia, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Right — sorry. I know. It's just that I don't — look that way, do I."

Page 309

"A bit."

"Ahh. Sorry."

Aerith smiled ruefully.

"Sorry, Aerith."

Konrad took out his phone before putting it away again — and gave her a quick glimpse of it first.

"I got this through a friend, back-channels. Lately it's been hard to get them officially. I bought two — one for Yvette, one I gave to Adelia."

A melody rang out from somewhere. Konrad took the call from his pocket, exchanged a few words over the light jingle of the ringtone, and hung up.

"That was a friend of my mother's who helps out with the shop sometimes and looks after Adelia when I'm not there. That was her."

"Was that Adelia? Is she back?"

"Not yet."

Konrad's face clouded.

"That is too long…"

They asked people as they went, searching together. The further from the center of Sector 5, the more the alleyways tangled into a maze that only locals could navigate. As they turned toward the border with Sector 6 and Wall Market — Rude stepped out in front of them.

"Evening, Aerith."

"Oh — good evening."

"I don't like seeing you out this late. Time to head home."

"Aerith." Konrad dropped his voice. "Who is this?"

"Someone I know."

"I'll walk you back," Rude said. He appeared to have no intention of acknowledging Konrad.

Page 310 (continues into 311)

"That's my job." Konrad stepped forward. "I'm the one who dragged Aerith all the way out here."

"If anything happens to Aerith, you die."

Rude loosened his tie slightly.

"That's… quite something to say." Konrad's voice was unsteady.

"Let's go."

Aerith took Konrad's arm and started walking. A little further on, she looked back. Rude was watching from the same spot.

"He's like a gatekeeper for Sector 6."

"He really is."

"Actually he's the gatekeeper for Sector 5 Slums. His job is to keep me in. There are still people like that around. You die — honestly."

"Sorry."

She wasn't hiding the complaint in her voice. Explaining the truth would be tiresome. This was fine.

"Let's go home. I'm not ready to die yet."

"Right."

End of Pages 301–311.

Notes for this chunk:

The Tseng conversation on pp.303–305 is one of the most carefully constructed scenes in the chapter. Tseng doesn't say Zack is alive and well directly — he explains SOLDIER Degradation specifically to tell Aerith that Zack's rank and tolerance mean he won't be affected for years, if ever. It's indirect reassurance, delivered in Tseng's characteristic clipped manner. I've tried to preserve both the technical explanation and the emotional subtext.

Aerith's self-reproach on p.305 — realizing she had partly wanted Degradation to be the explanation because it would make acceptance easier — is a painful beat rendered with real honesty in the Japanese, and I've matched that.

The double ❋ ❋ on p.306 marks a significant break — the densest emotional section of the chapter so far giving way to the practical bustle of the orphanage days. The shift in register is intentional.

Rude's "If anything happens to Aerith, you die" on p.310 is delivered completely without affect in the Japanese — I've kept it deadpan. Konrad's shaken response and Aerith's dry "that's my job" correction play well off each other.

Page 312

They walked toward the Gainsborough house in silence. The curfew Aerith had promised Elmyra was approaching. Past the orphanage, Konrad stopped.

"This is as far as I go then. Thanks. And — Aerith."

He was already half-turned away.

"I hope you find Adelia."

"Adelia will be fine. She'll come home."

His voice was stiff. Aerith knew that sound — the voice a person makes when someone they care about isn't turning out the way they'd hoped.

❋

She couldn't sleep.

Adelia is recovering—

(Adelia is a SOLDIER. If she's recovered enough to speak—)

(Then maybe she'd know something about Zack.)

How deep the connections ran between SOLDIERs, she didn't know. But Firsts were few. If every SOLDIER looked up to First Class, Zack might be someone Adelia had heard of. If so — the possibility that Adelia knew of Zack was worth hoping for.

Page 313

She might.

"Oh!" The thought came out as a sound. She didn't need to fixate on Adelia — she could look for any SOLDIER. But where? The Turks would know. Was there any way to meet a SOLDIER without Tseng finding out? She'd probably be stopped. What about asking the soldiers posted around the city?

(No — I'm being watched…)

❋

Elmyra was shaking her awake.

"Aerith! How long are you going to sleep? You have the orphanage today, don't you? There's no time."

It wasn't as late as Elmyra was making it sound. She'd fallen asleep in the middle of working out how to give the Turks the slip.

"Rude came by this morning. Adelia is being treated at headquarters. He said they'd send her back to the shop by noon."

Relief. Good. Thank you.

She thought of the rumor — degraded SOLDIERs dissected alive as research subjects. But if they were sending her back to the shop—

Page 314

—it was probably just a rumor after all.

"Who's Adelia?"

"Um…" No reason to hide it. She explained: Adelia's Mako poisoning, Konrad taking her in, how she'd gotten involved.

"You do get yourself tangled up in things."

"It just… happened."

"I despair of you."

"I have to go—" Aerith was already moving, cutting off whatever else Elmyra had been about to say.

"What about lunch — are you coming back?"

"I'll probably just stay out."

"Hold on."

Elmyra went to the kitchen and came back with a small wrapped package.

"The usual sandwiches. I made extra, so share some with Konrad."

"Thank you, Mom."

She reached for them — but Elmyra didn't let go.

Page 315

"Konrad — he doesn't have a partner, does he?"

"That's not — he doesn't have a partner, but there's someone he likes. That happens, doesn't it."

Elmyra pressed the paper bag of sandwiches into her hands with a stiff expression.

"Right — I'm off."

Aerith left the house feeling vaguely uncomfortable. She glanced back — Elmyra was visible through the window. Crying? Then the shoulders began to shake. Then came the sound of laughter, badly suppressed.

"Mom — are you all right?!"

The laughter got worse.

"That happens, doesn't it — the way you said it. What do you even know about anything."

Laughing at her own words — it was embarrassing, and also somehow delightful. Aerith gave her own cheeks a light pat, squared up, and walked.

The distance between home and the orphanage was almost nothing. Children who'd been waiting and watching came running out one after another—

Page 316

—all trying to be first to talk to her.

"Morning! Let's play hard today!"

She couldn't help thinking of her own luck — being taken in by Elmyra. Children without parents. One holding out a picture book to be read. Another watching from the corner of the room with eyes full of hope. Joy, grief, uncertainty, anger—

Elmyra, who so rarely laughed out loud, had laughed this morning. Half of it, she supposed, was just what Elmyra had said. But the other half — laughing at her own misreading. Aerith thought about what it would mean to live up to the wish Elmyra carried for her happiness. Would that day ever come? And when it did — what shape would it take?

She remembered something Elmyra had said, once. That day — what form will it arrive in?

❋

At noon, Aerith ran home and hugged Elmyra from behind while she was eating alone.

The selfish reason she decided to visit Konrad — with whom things had ended awkwardly — was that she wanted to know how Adelia was recovering.

"Oh, welcome."

Konrad's smile. Aerith felt the knot in her chest loosen.

"I heard Adelia came back—"

Page 317

"She did. Thanks to you — the Turks. They went looking for her because you asked, right? That service — genuinely, I'm so sorry about last night."

There was a misunderstanding here. Aerith had walked the Slums at night looking for Adelia, and Rude and the others had stepped in — most likely on their own initiative, to prevent anything worse from happening. She hadn't asked them for anything.

"It's fine. I didn't explain properly anyway."

"Still, the way I acted was terrible." He looked down briefly — then immediately looked back up, leaning forward.

"Hey — I can't stop wondering. Who are you, exactly? You're not ordinary, are you."

"Ha."

"You're right. Not ordinary." Tseng — the name came to her. She didn't say it. Better not to say anything.

"A princess, maybe."

Konrad gave two small nods. The message that she didn't want to talk about it had landed.

"Adelia's in the back, by the way—"

He said it, then something seemed to occur to him.

Page 318

"Aerith. There's something else I want to ask."

"What?"

"Adelia was found near the outer wall just before dawn and taken straight to Shinra — they put her in one of those black coats, the standard issue ones, and she went just as she was — covered in dirt and who knows what. And after the examination she came back still wearing it, and she herself was — anyway, Shinra is terrible, I'm sorry, I know this is a lot to ask—"

"A shower. I want someone to clean her up properly. Yvette usually does it."

"Oh—"

"I'd say yes — but today she can't come. Could you do it? Clean Adelia up."

Can I manage that— she was already certain she would.

Adelia was sitting on the bed. The hood was down. She was wearing the black cloak — in reality a long black coat — or had been, until it was removed, leaving only underwear beneath. Her skin was dry and chapped. Something to do with the bloodwork, perhaps. Her face and limbs were dirty with soil.

The image of Hojo came to her, unbidden. White coat. His entourage. The people who had done terrible things to her mother. What did they do to you, Mom. She knew how to wash another person's hair and body — she'd done it with the children. But an adult was new.

Page 319

Adelia stood quietly and let herself be helped. With the soap and sponge that had been left out, Aerith worked through it in the narrow shower stall.

When she was washing Adelia's hair and rinsing out the lather, she held her hand over Adelia's brow so the soap wouldn't get in her eyes. At that, Adelia seemed to enjoy it — lifting her chin slightly, letting the warm water run over her face with something like contentment.

(Here goes.)

She'd built it up too much. But still, carefully, while the water ran:

"Do you know Zack Fair?"

Adelia didn't react. Nothing seemed to be getting through. Tense — is she First Class, is she not —

"Sorry. Never mind."

She hadn't really expected an answer. She'd gotten ahead of herself.

Once the hair was dry and the body toweled off, clean clothes and fresh underwear on, Adelia sat on the edge of the bed — and then simply folded sideways and lay down. Startling, but leaning in close, Aerith heard quiet, steady breathing. Asleep. Then Konrad came in to check on her, confirmed the breathing, and nodded with satisfaction.

Page 320

"Good work. Thank you."

"Actually — Konrad, when Adelia showered—"

Aerith acted out what she'd seen: Adelia taking the showerhead herself, lifting her chin, letting the water run over her face.

Konrad's own face opened into something.

"Lately it's not just that she comes home on her own — it feels like her expression is coming back."

"Really?!"

"I kept wondering if it was just wishful thinking. But you saw it too. All right — I'll keep going! Keep going!"

"What does the treatment actually involve?"

"Ahh — right, the treatment — what it involves—"

Konrad leaned in as if sharing a grave secret.

"I talk to her. That's all — I just keep talking to her. And slowly, I embed myself in Adelia's heart. I make her aware that I exist. I carve out a space for myself there. So that in Adelia's heart, there's a place that belongs to Konrad Lindner — and that place means she has more occasion to think about herself, and that means her sense of herself grows larger — it's a bit hard to explain—"

Page 321

"—and I'm not entirely sure I understand it myself, but—"

"I understand," Aerith said, frowning slightly, and Konrad laughed.

"Me too, in the end. But that territory — it can't be touched by Mako poison or by whatever they put in SOLDIERs. So the progression of symptoms stops. Maybe even reverses. Once I heard that, I had to try it."

"SOLDIERs — they have a special substance? Something they put in the body to enhance it physically. What it actually is — that's one of Shinra's deepest secrets, apparently. Someone criticized it as inhumane once. Anyway—"

"Hmph."

"About forty years ago, during the construction of the Sector 6 reactor, there was an accident — Mako burst up from underground, and some of the workers got Mako poisoning. One of them had a partner, who was a colleague of a colleague of Yvette at the time — anyway, that person heard from someone connected to Shinra's science division, secondhand, that there was a treatment — and the treatment, Konrad's medicine, is love. Affection. Friendship."

It wasn't wrong to believe what Konrad believed.

"I had no idea about any of this."

"Sorry — the Sector 6 reactor story is secondhand anyway, it's just—"

A low rumble from Aerith's stomach.

"Mom packed lunch. Should we eat?"

"That would be wonderful!"

Aerith went to the shop, retrieved the sandwiches, and came back. She and Konrad were splitting them when Adelia woke up.

"Were we too loud? Sorry."

Adelia slowly pushed herself upright. Then, taking about the same amount of time, folded her legs beneath her. Her eyes were fixed on one point — the sandwich in Konrad's hand.

"Want some?"

Konrad held it out. Adelia reached for it with trembling hands and gripped it. She raised it to her mouth, bit off a large piece, closed her eyes, and chewed slowly.

Page 322

A gentle smile spread across her face.

Page 323

"The Turk who brought Adelia back — you know, the bald one — he told me Adelia's hometown is Kalm. But she has no family left there. She's alone."

"That's sad."

"Actually — I don't have family anymore either. So in that way, I feel a kind of kinship with Adelia. Facing something hard together — it still feels like we've only just started."

Hearing that, Aerith thought of the day she'd first met Konrad. When she'd tried to help the man in the black cloak who'd stumbled and nearly fallen again — Konrad had stopped her. Can you commit to the whole way?

Konrad was collecting the breadcrumbs Adelia had dropped.

"…ck."

Adelia said something. Konrad looked up in surprise and asked her to repeat it. Adelia slowly extended both arms straight out in front of her.

"What?"

"…Zck."

End of Pages 312–323.

Notes for this chunk:

Konrad's "love therapy" explanation on pp.320–321 is one of the most distinctive passages in the chapter — earnest, a little absurd, and quietly profound. The idea that a person's sense of self can be a shield against both Mako poisoning and Degradation is presented as folk wisdom passed through several degrees of separation, which I've kept deliberately hazy to match the Japanese.

The detail that Rude (described by Konrad as "the bald one") told him Adelia's hometown is Kalm becomes significant later when Adelia is confirmed heading there.

Page 322 is very short — a single image of Adelia's peaceful smile — which I've rendered as its own beat rather than folding into the previous page.

Page 323's cliffhanger: Adelia, arms outstretched, managing a fragmented vocalization — "…ck" / "…Zck" — is the chapter's first direct emotional connection between Adelia and Zack. I've rendered the fragmentation carefully to preserve the ambiguity and the weight of the moment

Page 324

She curved her back forward, then straightened it. Again and again. And as she did it, Adelia looked at Aerith.

"…Zck…tt…Zck…s."

Konrad watched Adelia with a puzzled expression. But Aerith understood.

"What is that…"

Squat. Zack's.

"Squats?" Aerith asked.

Adelia smiled — clearly, unmistakably.

"Squats — like the exercise?"

"I think so."

He always did squats. Aerith repeated it to herself, again and again. In the bathroom, she'd asked a question — and Adelia was answering it now. She'd seen Zack, or known him, or heard of him. I want to know more. Did they talk? Did she know him well?

"Hey, Konrad. Keep going with the treatment. If there's anything I can do — just say so."

She looked over. Konrad's eyes were full of tears.

"Yeah. That was good."

"Adelia — spoke. That's the treatment working!"

"Adelia spoke…"

On the way back from Linden-dō, Aerith walked with her tears hidden. Sad, or happy—

Page 325

—she couldn't tell. She was happy to have shared a memory of Zack with someone. And sad that she hadn't been able to see him for so long.

✉

Are you well? Inside my heart, there is Zack. Every day I meet someone new, learn something new. There's a place that belongs to Zack, and it's Zack's. But — in your heart, is there a place that's mine?

❋

Coming out of the orphanage at the end of the day, Aerith noticed a woman standing at the entrance to an alley on the opposite side from home, looking her way. Brightly colored clothes that made no effort to hide the lines of her body. Long, rippling hair framing a face hidden behind oversized sunglasses.

The woman took off the sunglasses.

(Me?)

"Tsubaki-sensei?!"

Aerith called out and Tsubaki immediately put one finger to her lips. Shh. Then she beckoned. Aerith ran over — and Tsubaki set off, moving away from the alley, signaling her to follow.

Page 326

"Tsubaki-sensei. It's been a long time."

"It has. You look well, Aerith."

A bright, unclouded smile. She looked well.

"You wouldn't have recognized me right away either, I imagine. A lot has happened. You remember that man? Actually — he turned out to be a scout. For Wall Market."

"A scout?!"

The rumors were out there. The district under Don Corneo's control — girls collected through methods that amounted to kidnapping, exploited in every way. Tsubaki was working there, people said.

"I cried every day at first. But now — I'm enjoying it. It's just that the people I'm looking after changed from children to adults."

She said it with a straight face. Is this a joke? Tsubaki watched her — then, seeming to catch Aerith's confusion, her expression shifted.

"Actually — I came to see the children. But after leaving them the way I did, not looking back — I thought I had no right to face them. So I couldn't go in. That's why I'm out here. Tell me about them, though. How are they lately?"

Page 327

Back when they'd worked together, Tsubaki hadn't seemed that invested in the children. But Aerith nodded and listened.

Tsubaki listened with her eyes closed, nodding.

"Good."

"You should come in sometime. Everyone would be glad to see you."

"Maybe. But right now — I'm enjoying it." She said it with a lonely smile. It sounded like she was working hard to believe it. "Right now, that's a little difficult for me."

"Are you all right?"

At that, Tsubaki's face crumpled — and then she laughed. Five seconds later she spun around, back to Aerith, and said: What about your boyfriend!

"…Yeah."

A beat of hesitation.

"Wait — I couldn't hide it. Did something happen? Did you break up?"

"It's not like that. We just — haven't been able to see each other."

"Well, that happens. Chin up! Not being able to see each other happens. If you keep your spirits up even when it's hard — the world—"

Page 328

"—will get better, I'm sure of it. And seeing that makes us feel better too!"

"You're right."

Tsubaki took Aerith's hand and swung it the way they used to do with the children during games.

"Let's sing. The stars are watching our smiles, the stars are listening to our songs."

Tsubaki hummed the verse she'd taught the children — the one that bloomed like a flower on that ordinary street — and walked away. Her bright clothes caught the dusty Slums light.

"Tsubaki-sensei!" Aerith raised her voice after her.

"The orphanage is short-staffed! We're waiting for you!"

[Translator's note: The song lyric — 「星は見てるさボクらの笑顔、星は聴いてるボクらの歌を」— is a novel-internal lyric, flagged in the project glossary. Rendered in simple, singable English that preserves the warmth and the parallel structure.]

✉

Are you well? Today someone asked me if we'd broken up. I said we just haven't been able to see each other. I don't feel crushed. I don't feel like I can't breathe. Just — lonely. My feelings are changing. I wonder what becomes of them.

❋

Page 329

The orphanage vacancy went unfilled. Aerith was called on more and more.

She was worried about the flower bed. She wanted to check on Angel. She wanted to know how Adelia was recovering. But none of it was happening. Adelia had Konrad — so when she finally had a free afternoon and chose the church, it was the flowers and Angel she went for.

What met her as she approached the church were Wererats. Three of them. She ran. She didn't want to risk them calling more of their kind.

(Huh?)

(Quite a bit—)

"Whoa—!"

She noticed it: the Turks weren't hovering. Then she heard a man shout behind her. She turned — trainee Turk Tiro and a large unfamiliar Turk were fighting.

(Hold on—)

But from any angle, the Turks were losing. Tiro had fallen on his back; the large man was trying to cover him, punching the Wererats back one by one, kicking several away at once. Meanwhile Tiro, still down, looked around desperately for help. The large man was pulling the trigger again and again — nothing coming out. He wiped sweat from his forehead roughly and was working at the gun with both hands.

(Incredible.)

Page 330

"Tiro, get up!"

"Aerith, get inside!"

The words came before the thought. In that moment, one Wererat lowered its head and charged — front teeth raking across the large man's abdomen.

"Ugh—!"

A short cry. His large body swayed, tie swinging. Three Wererats swarmed. Aerith pulled out her rod, turned toward the chaos, and fired Blizzard.

One Wererat fled with a shriek. The remaining two launched themselves at the large Turk, teeth sinking in.

"Cure!"

"Thanks."

She'd never used Cure before — it was the first time. The magic took form and fell over the man in a shimmer of light. The pain cleared; he steadied himself, grabbed one Wererat with both hands, and slammed it into the ground. Then seized the next one by the scruff, wrenched it free, and drove his knee into it. Twice—

Page 331

—three times. He threw the dead monster down and stood there, breathing hard.

"My apologies."

"Ah — first meeting. I'm Bute."

"Sorry about that."

Neither of them could get more words out. Just standing, breathing.

"Thank you for helping."

Aerith said it as a kind of cover — then immediately thought it probably sounded sarcastic. But words wouldn't come. Her own breathing was ragged.

"Want to take a breath? All of us."

The Turks nodded. The three of them breathed, each at their own pace.

Angel greeted her the same as always. She breathed in the scent of the flowers — deep, and slow. Again. Something she'd never quite felt before. A sensation of something releasing, something settling. She didn't know why she'd done it. She just had. Several times through — and her mind was quieter.

(This is—)

Page 332

—maybe what Ifalna used to talk about. A kind of healing. Something only a Cetra could do.

(I don't need to carry anxiety.)

The restlessness in her chest — gone. She breathed the flowers in again. Deep and slow. But it wasn't ordinary. It was something only the Cetra were given.

❋

"I'll come back, Angel."

She called up to the third-floor gallery and left the church, then hurried straight home.

The house was empty. Elmyra would be cleaning somewhere. Where today? She checked the small notebook by the kitchen — Elmyra's schedule — and found today's space blank.

"Mom?"

She called out as she went — heart picking up. Second floor. The whole house. Nothing. Then at the garden entrance — a young man. Long hair tied back. He saw her, startled visibly, and ran.

A black leather vest. Long hair in a tail, swinging behind him.

"Who are you?!"

Page 333

She started to go after him, then stopped herself. She waited in the garden — and Elmyra came in from the alley. Relief flooded through her.

"What are you doing out here?"

"There was someone I didn't know. A man. Young. Black leather vest. Did you pass him?"

"Now that you mention it — maybe. I wasn't paying attention."

Elmyra said it languidly and walked past her into the house. Something was off.

"Mom — did something happen?"

"I wonder. I started running a fever this afternoon. I've already seen the doctor and got medicine, so it's fine. I'm just going to lie down for a bit."

Elmyra occasionally fell ill like this. When she did, she became a completely different person — all the strength gone out of her. This might be what the unease was. Aerith looked around the garden once more, then followed Elmyra inside.

"Take your medicine with something to eat."

"Leave it to me."

"Is that right? Then I won't argue. Thank you."

"Yes — rest, rest. I'll make something, just wait."

Page 334

"You're going to cook?"

"Yes." She went to the kitchen and checked the ingredients. Several vegetables, chicken. Dried Gongaga mushrooms she'd bought once — and dried tomatoes. Right, what should I make.

"Aerith?"

Elmyra's voice from upstairs.

"I've been wanting that chicken soup — you know the shop on the way to the station, the one that always smells so good. How about that? The kind with rice and jujubes and garlic all simmered together."

"Oh! That one! The chicken soup."

"I have jujubes and garlic, so I can make it. Will you teach me how?"

"I can't wait that long. Then go to the shop — buy the soup there, and come back and cook the rest."

"Can't wait? Then go buy the soup. I'll be fine with a small."

"Are you sure?"

In the end, Elmyra left most of even the small soup. But the medicine seemed to be working — she slept soundly. Aerith thought about writing — about the calm she'd felt in the church that afternoon, about the unease, about herself. But her mind changed. The story she ended up writing was the one about Elmyra trying to stop her daughter from cooking—

❋

[Page 334 cuts off mid-letter — clearly continuing onto 335. The ❋ break appears at the very bottom, suggesting a section close or tonal shift ahead. Next upload should be pages 335–336.]

End of Pages 324–334.

Notes for this chunk:

The Adelia/squats moment on p.324 is the emotional payoff of the Adelia arc so far — her fragmented speech finally resolving into something Aerith alone can understand. He always did squats. Zack, confirmed known to Adelia, alive in someone else's memory.

Tsubaki's reappearance on pp.325–327 is bittersweet — she's clearly not entirely all right, the bravado is working hard, and her inability to go in and see the children says more than her words do. The song lyric she leaves Aerith with is gentle and lingering.

The Wererat fight on pp.329–331 is Bute's formal introduction as a named character — the large Turk confirmed here. Aerith using Cure for the first time is noted explicitly as a first.

The Cetra healing breath on pp.331–332 is a quiet but significant moment — Aerith beginning to consciously access something of her heritage, though she doesn't fully understand it yet.

Page 335

—about Elmyra trying to stop her daughter from cooking. Typical Mom. She'd said she'd make something without any real confidence, so that had been a genuine relief.

(Right—)

She wrote about the man who'd been peering into the garden. Better to record his appearance in case anything came of it. But then — no, that would worry Zack. Something more forward-looking. Something that would make him laugh.

"Strange."

Aerith's letters to Zack were something like a diary. She wanted to impress him, make him laugh, make him happy. But the moment she thought of them as a diary, she couldn't write at all. That tension was what kept her writing.

She wanted to tell Zack. She wanted him to hear it.

✉

Are you well? Zack, listen. I feel like I've gotten stronger. I feel ready to face things — people or monsters or whatever tries to hurt me. I realized something: I can help people. With the rod and the Materia and the magic. Not running away — facing it. That kind of courage.

Page 336

I'm surprised to find myself feeling this way.

Hey, Zack. That look you used to get sometimes — confident, pleased with yourself. The face I loved, and also found just a little bit insufferable. Right now, I might be making that face.

Want to see it? If you do—

❋

The letter never came together properly. She got up early, burned it in the garden as usual, and heard Elmyra knock on the window.

She went back inside.

"Morning. You still don't look well."

"Don't I. Well, I haven't taken any work today, so I'll rest at home."

"Good."

"No — I'll do it."

"Really? Breakfast — shall I try?"

Elmyra's step toward the kitchen was already firm. Left to her own devices, she'd start a deep clean. But after breakfast, she'd have to be made to lie down.

A knock at the door. Konrad.

"Good morning, Konrad."

Page 337

"Morning, Aerith." Elmyra turned around. "My, my — what happened to you."

Elmyra's brow furrowed. One look was enough to see it — Konrad was exhausted. The faint smell of alcohol reached them.

"Adelia went missing again. And in between—"

"I see." He must have been drinking alone.

They brought him inside, offered him a chair. He sat in a different one and slumped.

"I want so much for Adelia to get better. I think about doing this with her, going there with her—"

"It's a long fight, I know that. But it's so hard. Sometimes she smiles, and I start to feel like all of it could actually happen. Then—"

Whether alcohol was the answer to that — Aerith didn't know. Konrad gave a weak laugh, then looked up.

"I asked Yvette about it and she said — love is painful, so learn what affection is, quickly. I have no idea what that means."

"Hey — could the Turks help search for Adelia again? They're good at that sort of thing, aren't they—"

Page 338

"Probably. If we asked, they might move on it."

"Hmm."

But she didn't want to ask. Not for this.

"Konrad," Elmyra said, setting plates on the table.

"I'll talk to the Turks myself. I don't want this girl incurring debts to Shinra. So I'd like you not to involve Aerith — even for a friend's sake."

Konrad looked between Aerith and Elmyra, uncertain, then nodded.

"Aerith — that's all right with you?"

There was a force to Elmyra's manner that didn't leave room for argument. Eat. Toast from the toaster, scrambled eggs on a separate plate, soup — that was breakfast. Konrad ate every bit with sheepish gratitude, thanked them several times over, and left. Aerith washed the dishes while pleading with Elmyra to rest — she was ill, after all — and eventually managed to push her into bed before heading out.

Page 339

She came home after the morning at the orphanage to find the whole house cleaned. And Elmyra in the middle of making lunch.

"Mom!"

"Don't say a word. It's a terrible habit, I know."

Elmyra laughed at herself.

"Still a bit of a fever, but she doesn't seem unwell."

"The Turks said they'd help look for Adelia while they're on watch."

"Who did you talk to?"

"Tseng."

"How?"

"How? I borrowed the phone at the clinic and called Shinra. That's all."

"Oh."

"I don't usually reach out to them like that. It hadn't occurred to me. But I'm your guardian."

"Apparently the two on your detail right now are Tiro and Bute — trainees, apparently. They feel a little unreliable."

Page 340

"That's not it — maybe I've been recognized. A strong woman who protects herself."

"Perhaps your priority ranking dropped."

"That's not — " Aerith tilted her chin up proudly. Elmyra moved the conversation along without ceremony.

"Bute came by a little while ago. To search for Konrad's friend, there are conditions you have to meet too, apparently."

"What are they?"

"During the day, one of them — Tiro or Bute — will be searching. At night they want to divide up the area, so: no going outside after eight. And no going into the garden either."

"Can you manage that?"

"I can. Starting this afternoon — they can search then; I'm usually home around that time."

"Then let's eat."

Elmyra stood, set her chopsticks by the door — the signal that Aerith had agreed to the terms — and came straight back.

Aerith laid the mat; Elmyra set the plates. Steam rising from fresh cream pasta. Dried tomato powder scattered over the top. Still plenty of it left—

Page 341

She ate the pasta and thought about the time she'd first started selling flowers at the Morales stall. Since then, things had moved in directions she never could have predicted.

The wheels of fate beginning to turn — was that the phrase for this feeling? She imagined several gears, each affecting the others as they turned. She was somewhere on top of them, jumping from one to the next, spinning. Where was Zack at the end of all this? She wanted to know. She kept moving, but couldn't stop to look back — if she stopped, the gears would carry her around with them.

"What is it today," Elmyra said.

"Nothing."

Elmyra was eating without tasting, without comment, just putting food in her mouth and swallowing.

"…Try saying it. Fate."

"What?"

"Fate is nonsense. The tomato powder — got used to it. That kind of thing. Thinking about fate — maybe better to stop. Sorry. The pasta is good."

Page 342

"Mom — doesn't it bother you? The idea of fate?"

"No."

"But — you found me, didn't you? Isn't that fate?"

"Coincidence."

"You think so?"

"If I call that fate — then everything else is fate too. Is losing your mother fate? Is losing Clay fate? Who decided that? That's just sad. Something decided in advance that was always going to happen — I can't accept that. Try believing it's all coincidence instead, good and bad alike. Then every single day—"

"—becomes precious."

"That's right. Every day becomes precious. You think for yourself, you move, you're not controlled by anyone. Believe that — and you'll see: this city is full of wonderful coincidences. Coincidence brings us together with all kinds of people. We part. We meet again. Imagine that."

"…Incredible."

Page 343

"Not incredible — just surprising that you think about things like this, Mom."

"Don't underestimate me."

Elmyra puffed up with satisfaction.

"But there must be plenty of bad coincidences too."

"When that happens — you call it fate and let it go."

"That seems a bit like cheating."

"Make up some reason and forget it. Life is long. The past — either turn it into a memory quickly, or forget it. Either way."

Elmyra went quiet.

"What I'm trying to say is — I don't want to tie myself down. Do whatever you like. You don't need anyone's permission."

She scooped up a spoonful of cream and ate it.

"What ties you down isn't your bloodline or your fate or your past. It's yourself."

Aerith copied her.

✉

Are you well. Today, Mom told me I've been tying myself down. That's how she sees me.

❋

Are you well. I'm well.

Page 344

But—

Someone told me once that I go around in the same circles every day. That was because I thought doing that would mean I'd see Zack again. Places that mean something to me. Special places. I thought that if I kept going, I would.

But coincidences stay coincidences no matter how many of them there are. They don't link together and become fate.

Fate ties me down. The way Konrad tied Adelia down in fate's name.

I was the one tying myself down.

Are you well. I'm well.

❋

Mom said there's no such thing as fate. I'm well. She said, there's no such thing as fate. The world is probably full of wonderful coincidences.

A letter that began in a forward-looking mood kept turning, no matter how many times she rewrote it, into something that felt like a farewell—

Page 345

—to Zack. All she wanted was to tell him about the magic of living each day with excitement and joy. That was all.

It was nearly midnight. Getting ready for bed, she looked out the window — and part of the garden was glowing. A sharp light came in through the glass. She went downstairs.

(Someone is returning to the Planet—)

The light that a life gives off as it flows back into the Lifestream. It came to her as pain — the grief and joy and suffering of those dying, transmitted directly.

Adelia's face surfaced in her mind. That light is Adelia's. Somewhere, wounded. Dying.

Those large eyes that seemed always on the verge of spilling over. When she'd turned away — Adelia, somewhere, hurt and dying. Zack's squats. If she could find Adelia, maybe she'd find out where Zack was. Like that time with Marcellus — her awareness drifting, reaching—

Aerith stood in the garden, staring at the glow, and concentrated.

Nothing happened.

(I have to hurry!)

End of Pages 335–345.

Notes for this chunk:

The letter on p.335–336 — Aerith writing about feeling strong, imagining showing Zack her confident face — is one of the most tender in the chapter. It ends mid-thought, which I've preserved.

The fate vs. coincidence conversation on pp.341–343 is the philosophical centerpiece of the chapter and one of Nojima's most carefully constructed exchanges. Elmyra's position — coincidence is more precious than fate because it isn't predetermined — directly reframes everything Aerith has been carrying. I've rendered it at full length with care. The final line — what ties you down is yourself — is the chapter's thesis statement, effectively.

The letters on pp.343–344 are fractured and rewritten, mirroring Aerith's attempt to process what Elmyra said. The admission — I was the one tying myself down — is the emotional resolution of that thread.

Page 345's Lifestream vision is the first time Aerith actively attempts to use her Cetra ability deliberately rather than passively receiving it — and fails. The urgency is real.

Page 346

Only someone with Cetra blood could see that glow. She remembered the promise to Tiro — but only she could see this. If she let this moment pass, the next time Adelia was found, she might be only an empty shell.

(Hold on, Adelia!)

Aerith opened the door and stepped outside. She was certain it was Adelia.

She moved through the garden toward the light, knelt in it. Pain — dull and deep. She pushed through it and reached into the brightness, touching it gently with her fingertips. Something left her palm — energy she had no name for. The Lifestream. The current of life connecting living and dead. It flooded her with information.

Through Adelia's eyes: a wasteland, night. A figure in a black cloak, face down in the dirt. All sensation ran together. Aerith seemed to hover above, a butterfly's perspective, looking down at the black cloak. The hem, the sleeves — torn. Attacked by a monster.

I want to see her face. The moment she thought it, her viewpoint drifted toward the hood. She felt as though she could reach out and touch it. A deep breath — then she pulled the hood back.

(Adelia!)

It was her. Still breathing. Where is this? She looked around — and in the dark—

Page 347

—a Mako reactor, faint Mako gas venting from it. She looked harder. The same spacing on either side — more reactors? She could just make out something dark moving between them, like black fog. Which number reactor is that—

Then a blow hit her from behind. She pitched forward, collapsing over Adelia's body.

(What?! —)

Adelia and the wasteland dissolved like clearing mist. Face down in the garden now, someone seizing her right arm, wrenching it behind her back. Leaves against her cheek. Soil and grass in her nose.

"That hurts!"

"Shut up!"

An unfamiliar voice. Her back crushed by a knee, all her weight pinned, bound, a gag —

Then — a different voice. Unfamiliar too.

The next moment the weight on her back vanished. She spun around and sat up fast. Black suits, moving hard and fast. Reno and Rude.

They were fighting two figures with black balaclavas pulled over their faces. Reno said something with a satisfied look. Rude glanced at him, shrugged, and dragged the men toward the garden path.

"Thank you. But—"

Flowers lay crushed where the struggle had been. Stems broken, petals scattered, ground into the soil. Aerith scrambled up. The flowers beneath her were flattened.

"Aerith." Rude was calling. The two men face down — their hair grabbed, faces forced up.

"Do you recognize either of them?"

She looked. One of them — from the alley yesterday—

Page 348

"Reno and Rude!"

"Told you."

"Got them pretty good."

The men who'd pinned Aerith down were no match for the Turks. Rude's fists, Reno's rod — they went down fast and stayed down.

"Aerith."

"Do you recognize them?"

"Thanks. But—"

"Told you."

Reno and Rude exchanged a look, shrugged, and dragged the men toward the garden path. The flowers were ground into the dirt where the fight had been. Aerith got up fast. The ones she'd been lying on were crushed.

Page 349

—the man with the long hair. Yesterday he'd had it tied back; now it was loose and tangled. The other face — she thought she'd seen it somewhere too.

"This one?" Reno grabbed the man's hair and pulled his face up.

"I don't know him. But I saw him yesterday."

"Ah—"

She remembered. A man who had come to the orphanage once. Tsubaki-sensei's boyfriend.

❋

The attackers were taken away by Reno and Rude and handed off to another Turk. Thirty minutes had passed since the incident.

Elmyra, woken by the noise, was slumped in a chair. The part of the garden where the glow had been — just darkness now. Aerith couldn't stop thinking about Adelia.

Then Tseng arrived, saying he'd come to report on the incident.

"Tseng, please." Aerith pressed him. "She's going to die. The life is already flowing out of her — I can feel it. Please find Adelia. Please!"

Page 350

"Location?"

Tseng asked it with his unreadable expression.

"The wasteland. I could see Midgar. A reactor straight ahead. More reactors on each side, evenly spaced. I couldn't tell which numbers."

Tseng stepped outside and stopped a little way from the entrance, standing with his hands behind his back.

"A helicopter is arranged. It will be in the air within a minute. We'll search every position from which each reactor appears directly in front."

"Thank you!"

"I'll put it on your tab."

"I want to thank you too. Getting dragged into more of this is not something I need."

Elmyra said it in a tired voice.

"Now—"

Tseng's expression was harder than usual.

"Tonight's matter is fairly serious. The two who attacked Aerith are Rob Royce and Jesk Wayne."

"Who are they?"

Page 351

"Aerith — one of them you'd only seen once."

"Yes. Just once."

"That was Rob Royce. An old friend of Konrad Lindner's."

What?! Aerith and Elmyra both said it at once.

"I haven't told Konrad anything — about being a Cetra, or the Gainsborough family—"

Elmyra slapped the table. That kind of visible anger was rare for her.

"The goal was money. Royce heard from Konrad — drunk — that Aerith was the adoptive daughter of the Gainsbouroughs. He concluded there was ransom to be had."

"Money? There's no money here."

Elmyra sighed. Times are different now.

"Royce knew the Turks were watching from criminal contacts, but a few days of observation convinced him Tiro and the others could be outmaneuvered. As it turned out, he was right."

That stung — but Royce was a true small-time criminal, working purely on calculation and assumption.

"I've been targeted by a small-time criminal."

"The investigation will determine whether the information was shared further. That includes Konrad."

"Tseng — don't forget to give him a talking-to," Elmyra added with a sigh.

"Of course. Now, Aerith—"

Page 352

"—we'll thoroughly investigate whether Aerith's information was shared elsewhere. That includes Konrad Lindner."

"Wait — Mom — you just accepted all of that?"

Tseng gave a small cough.

"Of course."

"Yes."

"Do you recognize the other man? His name is Jes Wayne."

"Hmm — I don't think I know him." Tseng didn't look away.

"I lied. I don't think I know him."

"Really? You doubt me? I'm the one who got hurt!"

Tseng smiled coldly. Then: "One more report. Bute, on guard duty, was injured near the outer wall. Tiro was injured in a gun misfire — apparently lost in unfamiliar terrain and encountered a monster. Both minor injuries, but both are being taken off your protection detail. Aerith — Turk manpower is critically short. With that in mind, I want to suggest that, as in the old days, you might consider living safely in the Shinra building—"

Page 353

"Out of the question. Please go home."

Elmyra answered before Aerith could. Tseng gave another thin smile and left.

❋

The following afternoon, Tseng came back.

"She's been in bed since morning. If you want a Shinra doctor to see her, contact me anytime."

"I see. Thank you. She was just exhausted by last night."

"Of course."

Tseng glanced up toward the second floor, toward Elmyra's room. Aerith couldn't tell how genuine it was — a kindness aimed at winning the trust of mother and daughter, or something real. Doubting it felt sad. The possibility wasn't low.

"Now — a few things to report."

"Did they find Adelia?!"

"Yes. She's alive."

"Oh, thank goodness—!"

"First, last night's incident."

"Right."

Aerith was anxious about Adelia, but the incident mattered too. How far was Konrad involved? She'd hidden it from Tseng, but Jes was Tsubaki-sensei's boyfriend. She'd just recently run into Tsubaki again. Maybe Jes had some connection—

"Konrad Lindner — he had no involvement in last night's incident."

Page 354

A long breath escaped her.

"Through business dealings, he'd come to know you — was surprised to learn you were the daughter of the great Gainsborough family — and apparently talked about it at a drinking session. Royce, who heard this, brought in his old acquaintance Jes and planned the abduction. If ransom wasn't possible, the plan was to sell you to Sector 6. Jes is a Wall Market scout."

"What do they think I am."

Aerith was indignant.

"There are criminals above and below. Be careful. You are somewhat—"

"Somewhat?"

Page 355

"—too unaware of your own appeal."

"What?"

Tseng looked up at the second floor again, then immediately back to Aerith. His expression had gone cold enough to seem like a different person.

"…Anyway."

"Why did you say you didn't know Jes Wayne?"

"You can keep secrets. But in situations like this — speak honestly. The truth doesn't necessarily have to hurt you. Please don't forget that we are on your side."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"The person you protected — Tsubaki. Former staff at the orphanage. She has no involvement in the crime either. She's working with a reliable group doing housekeeping and babysitting. Currently living in Sector 7 on the Plate. Legitimate colleagues, legitimate clients."

News of Tsubaki's whereabouts was a relief.

"Thank you for telling me."

"And Adelia. We located her fairly quickly after the search began. However — she's seriously injured. She'll be treated at Shinra, and once she recovers, she'll be asked to cooperate with research."

Page 356

"Research?"

"The effects of the treatment Konrad administered to Adelia caught the interest of the science division."

"That's incredible — Konrad—" But the words caught. Konrad said it wasn't working very well.

"Adelia appears to have been making her way toward Kalm, in the wasteland. That's believed to be an effect of Konrad's treatment."

"Oh—"

It should have been good news. But she couldn't quite feel it cleanly. The further Adelia recovered — what would she think of Konrad? Would Konrad even be able to see her?

She wanted to ask Adelia about Zack. That desire, and the wish that Konrad wouldn't be hurt by the outcome — both were there at once.

"Does Konrad get to see her?"

"He appeared relieved. The arrangement with Adelia seems to have been weighing on him."

"That can't be right—!"

"He's accepted it?"

"Can't he even see her?"

"Adelia knew Zack. Someday, maybe she'll be able to talk. Unlike a regular Mako poisoning patient — she's a SOLDIER, so—"

End of Pages 346–356.

Notes for this chunk:

The Lifestream vision on p.346 is Aerith's first active successful use of her Cetra ability — she deliberately reaches into the glow and locates Adelia in the wasteland, with enough detail (reactor positions) to enable a rescue. A major milestone in her character arc.

The attack and rescue on pp.347–349 resolves quickly — Reno and Rude were already watching. The identification of Jes Wayne as Tsubaki's boyfriend is a quietly significant reveal, threading several storylines together.

Tseng's observation on p.355 — you are too unaware of your own appeal — is one of his most unusually personal moments. I've kept his delivery characteristically flat.

The Konrad/Adelia resolution on p.356 is bittersweet in exactly the way the Japanese intends — Konrad has been relieved, which is both understandable and quietly crushing. The line Adelia knew Zack is left hanging, a thread not yet pulled.

Page 357

"I'm worried about him." The image of exhausted Konrad came back to her. "Stay away from Linden-dō for now. There may be people with strong ties to the criminals. If they find out their friend's absence has anything to do with you — there's no telling what might happen."

"For how long?"

"We'll clear out the bad elements. Some degree of force will be used. Until then, please keep your distance. Konrad understands. He won't be coming near the Gainsborough house. The timeframe is open. Once it's resolved, I'll find a way to let you know."

"People are going to be frightened because of me."

"That's their fate. Think of it that way and accept it."

"That sounds like something my mother would say."

"Watching you tends to bring out that kind of thing. You may wish for an ordinary life — but that isn't something you can have. Understand that you're special and take pride in it. You are special. Like Zack."

"You don't even know anything about Zack." Tseng walked out.

How rude — he said it as he left. We understand each other. We're in tune. She'd believed that once. But maybe she didn't know him very well either. Something distant and long ago — a single brief moment that felt like ancient history.

Page 358

"That's not true!"

She said it aloud — and felt only lonelier.

✉

Are you well. These past few days, so much has happened. Coincidences ganged up and came at me all at once. Haah. I'm exhausted. Today I complained to Angel for a long time. Ahhh — that helped. And Zack Fair. I think you must be in a situation where you can't get in touch. Getting a letter like this in a place like that — that's a burden, isn't it. Sorry. It's almost been a year. I miss you.

❋

That evening, picking flowers in the garden, a voice came from the alley.

"Is Aerith Gainsborough here?"

Page 359

"That's me."

She looked up. A refined-looking older woman with perfectly white hair.

She stood up and greeted her.

"How do you do. My name is Yvette." The name rang a bell. "Has Konrad Lindner mentioned me?"

"Yvette — oh!"

The woman who sometimes minded the shop and helped look after Adelia. When Aerith said she knew the name, Yvette relaxed visibly.

"Do you know about the recent situation around Linden-dō?"

"No."

It wasn't only because she'd honored Tseng's request. Elmyra had been diagnosed with chronic fatigue — it had become difficult for her to work from morning to night the way she used to. She'd blamed herself, called it laziness. Aerith had been spending more time at home, taking on as much as she could manage.

"Shinra," Yvette began, "used the pretext of Avalanche infiltrators in the area — rounding up troublemakers, taking people away for possessing things that could be weapons. The rough crowd did disappear, but they also took children, and parents — families insisting on their innocence. The whole atmosphere around there turned very tense. I found it heartbreaking—"

Page 360

"—and I thought about it, and I'm part of what caused it. That realization tightens something in my chest."

"But then I remembered — the white flowers, the yellow flowers, all those windows decorated. It really was something lovely. I'm glad I was there to see it."

"I thought so too."

Yvette nodded with satisfaction.

"So I came today to ask — could we have flowers again? I've heard about you, of course, from Konrad."

"How is Konrad? It's been about two months since I've seen him."

"Oh my. Where do I even begin."

Elmyra appeared — the two of them had been talking standing in the garden — and brought them inside to the kitchen table.

"Please, sit down."

Page 361

Yvette had clearly been improving her skills. The baking Konrad had taught her — she'd taken it further. Elmyra tasted it and said it was restaurant quality.

"Konrad taught me. I can't quite do it exactly the way he does at home, but—"

"He really is too generous for his own good."

Yvette laughed warmly, and the atmosphere softened.

"As for Konrad — he doesn't seem to have recovered yet. He hasn't told me anything specific, so I'm worried. He seems to feel responsible — his childhood friends being taken away by Shinra, he says it's his fault."

Aerith looked down. She felt the same responsibility herself.

"My, my."

"So I decided to take over Linden-dō."

Elmyra played innocent.

"He came to me about it and I was surprised — but I couldn't think of a reason to say no. I've been preparing for a month now. I could start as early as tomorrow. The idea is to give flowers away as a service at first, then eventually sell sweets and flowers together as a set — I want it to continue for a long time. Would the same terms as with Konrad work? The spot near Linden-dō, outside under the eaves—"

Page 362

"—I wonder how much it would cost, carrying all those flowers to Linden-dō."

"Hmm."

"Yes," Aerith said.

"Of course. How much would that be?"

"Yes." Elmyra nodded.

I see, Yvette murmured, nodding.

"For delivery — how would we handle that? Before, Konrad came to collect every three days or so. If you need us to deliver, we'd want to charge a delivery fee — would that work for you?"

Elmyra sat up straight.

From across the table, Aerith was already leaning forward, thinking of those flower-decorated windows, that moment she'd rounded the corner and seen them — every house, lit up.

Page 363

"Eighty gil a delivery, I'd say."

Elmyra said it.

"I see—" Yvette looked up at the ceiling. "I don't think that's unreasonable, but putting a price on one's own labor is difficult. And I'm not sure how to add it to the pricing of the goods—"

"I'm sorry, dear. Unlike Konrad, I'm not good with numbers. Could I take this away and think it over?"

"Of course."

"Free would have been fine with me, but—"

"Yvette — I'm not going to say I want to cancel the arrangement or anything of the sort."

"I know." Yvette smiled, and left looking slightly troubled.

"Aerith."

"Yes?"

"I won't be able to work the way I used to for a while. I want to take care of my health. I have savings. But watching them go in only one direction is disheartening."

"Yes — we should think seriously about this."

"What are you grinning about? This is important." But Aerith couldn't hold back the joy rising in her.

Page 364

"You're talking to me about this, Mom — I'm so happy. I feel relied on. Aren't I?"

"Of course you are. That's been the plan for quite some time."

Elmyra looked exasperated. Aerith stood, moved behind her with dancing steps, and wrapped her arms around her.

"Leave it to me, Mom."

"You seem awfully pleased about this. It's almost annoying."

Elmyra laid her own hands over Aerith's.

❋

Yvette came to an agreement, and Aerith began delivering flowers to Linden-dō twice a week. With the first earnings she bought two large tote bags, and from the second delivery onward she filled them with flowers and carried them that way.

The third time, she brought out the backpack — just like that first visit to Linden-dō.

Elmyra did cleaning and housekeeping jobs throughout the neighborhood, so most people already knew about her taking a rest from work. An Aerith carrying armloads of flowers quickly became a talking point. On her route — Elmyra's regulars, neighbors she knew, Aerith's own regulars from the evening flower-selling she'd kept up — words of encouragement came from every direction. Aerith walked under the weight of the flowers, smiling back at everyone. Every single trip to Linden-dō was something she looked forward to. The nearby houses decorated with flowers as if it were simply habit now. The stall owner from that time said flowers had become something he couldn't do without—

Page 365

"Three gil a stem. Would you like one?"

She'd nearly given it away for free and caught herself just in time.

❋

While tending the flower bed, she heard a sound from near the ceiling. She looked up — Angel was spreading his mismatched wings and flying, soaring elegantly just below the rafters, moving from the roof gap toward the gallery.

"Whoa—!"

She'd only ever seen him sleeping in his spot on the third-floor gallery. She'd forgotten completely.

"You can fly! Of course you can fly!"

Something drifted slowly down from above. Small and blue. It fluttered into the gallery and fell into the flower bed.

"A petal?!"

She picked it up. Blue — small — a flower petal. Almost no scent. A flower she'd never seen. It must have come in on Angel's body, carried all this way. When, and where—

"Oh!"

Page 366

"Angel can go outside Midgar — can't you?!"

She ran all the way up to the third floor and touched his head gently, the way she always did.

"You can fly anywhere — out under the open sky! How did I never think of that before? Something so obvious—"

"Even to Zack's location?"

No reaction.

"You could go, couldn't you. Right?"

Angel gave a low rumble.

"Wait — does that mean leave it to me?"

"No, probably not."

She laughed and kept going, one-sided.

"Or maybe — you already know where he is?"

"That's probably too much. But maybe you'll find out. From now on, you're on my side. All right? Whatever happens."

She stroked the part of his face that, on a dog, would be the muzzle.

"You already agreed, actually. It's too late to back out now, Angel."

"To Zack's location too? Are you on guard? You are, aren't you. But it's too late, Angel."

Page 367

✉

Are you well? Lately — every day has been so full of joy. The children's smiles. Mom's smile. The neighborhood's smiles — they make me so happy. My happiness reaches the Planet through the flowers, and that happiness makes the people the Planet holds joyful in return. I'm sure that's how it works. This might be something only a special me — the only one of me in the world — can do. If that's true — the Planet is happy too. Zack. …Why. There is no time to be sad about not seeing you! It has been one year since we last met. Where are you? I hope this letter reaches you.

❋

The next morning, as soon as she arrived at the church, Aerith ran up to the gallery, folded a letter into a long narrow strip, and tied it tightly around Angel's ankle. Angel didn't move. Aerith left the church satisfied.

"I'm counting on you!"

❋

On the way back from her fifth delivery, Aerith was called by name near the station and stopped. She looked at the face — and didn't recognize him immediately.

"What — you forgot already? It's Jonas."

"Jonas!"

The young man with his hair combed back, wearing a navy suit, looked every bit the Plate businessman — but yes, it was Jonas, her former regular. The one who'd declared his feelings in one breathless shout and fled four months ago. That had been around the time she first borrowed the Morales stall—

End of Pages 357–367.

Notes for this chunk:

The letter on p.358 — it's almost been a year — marks a significant milestone quietly. The tone is tired but not broken, and the admission that Angel getting a letter to Zack would be a burden is one of Aerith's most honest moments.

Yvette's arrival and the Linden-dō arrangement on pp.359–364 is warm domestic plotting — Elmyra finally opening up about her health and asking Aerith to step up is a beautifully handled scene. Elmyra's that's been the plan for quite some time lands perfectly.

Angel's first confirmed flight on p.365 is a pivot point — and Aerith's realization that he can go outside Midgar opens the letter-to-Zack plot thread that pays off on p.367. The blue petal he's carrying is unidentified and flagged as intentionally mysterious.

The letter tied to Angel's leg on p.367 — confirmed sent — closes a long arc. The one-year anniversary of last contact with Zack is acknowledged directly in the letter, simply and without drama.

Page 368

"You look completely different."

"Can I take that as a good thing?"

"Of course."

"Good. The Plate has a way of knocking you around a bit. I'm on my way back from seeing my parents today."

"Is your mom well?"

Jonas had been buying flowers for his mother all along.

Page 369

"She's not bad. But never mind that — Aerith."

Jonas looked down. Aerith found herself bracing slightly.

"Up in Sector 8 there's a place that's become a gathering spot for people who came up from the Slums. And somehow — flowers are popular there. Everyone misses the Slums, I think, and the flowers remind them of it. That sense of somewhere safe and familiar."

"I think you're right. I can imagine that."

"So — here's a thought. Would you want to sell flowers on the Plate? An away game, flower-selling. I can introduce you to the shop — if you come by when people are there, you'd sell out for sure."

"Hmm."

Aerith looked up at the underside of the Plate, all that steel. Something she couldn't fully understand — a feeling that belonged only to someone who'd never left the Slums.

"That could be nice. I'll think about it. Things are a bit busy right now."

Page 370

"I know the feeling. I have to catch the next train back. Let's talk properly sometime."

Jonas handed over a business card — the confidence of someone who'd adapted to Plate life — and ran off just like before. Left standing alone, Aerith felt a laughing fit come over her, slow at first then unstoppable. It was perfect material to tell Elmyra over dinner. Sorry, Jonas — but the two of them were going to laugh about this.

Barely containing herself, she walked home leaning slightly forward, returning greetings from every direction.

"Mom!"

She called out as she opened the door — and two people turned around in the kitchen. Elmyra, and a young woman in a white blouse and navy pinafore.

"Tsubaki-sensei!"

"Hello there! Sorry for barging in."

"You look different again, sensei."

She said it and then remembered — Tsubaki was working on the Plate now, housekeeping and babysitting.

"Right — same line of work as Mom, sort of."

"So it seems."

Page 371

"She's been showing me how to get burnt residue off a pot. How she does housekeeping without knowing something this basic, I have no idea — experienced professional indeed."

"It's common knowledge." Elmyra lifted the pot to demonstrate.

"Harsh!"

"Hmm?"

Aerith looked between the two of them. Were you always this friendly?

"Not really — but we got talking about housekeeping while I was waiting for you and it just went from there. Sorry, Aerith — your mom told me about the mushroom incident."

"Mom — you promised to keep that secret."

Elmyra feigned innocence.

"Anyway!" Tsubaki did a little curtsy, holding the skirt of her dress. "I'm selling flowers on the Plate — would you want to partner with me?"

"Hang on—"

"How much time do you need?"

"Just a minute."

"Up on the Plate there's a nostalgia factor. And there are older people who remember Midgar before all of this — people who actually want to smell flowers. Most homes I visit have artificial flowers, and old ones at that, Shinra company housing mostly. So I suggested — wouldn't real flowers be nicer? — and it turned into a whole conversation. I asked at other homes too, and—"

Page 372

"I understand."

"I'm coming back in a week — could you give me an answer then?"

"There are various things going on — my health, and other circumstances — so I can't give you an answer right away."

"Don't put her on the spot." Elmyra to the rescue.

"Of course. I'll come back in a week. Answer me then?"

❋

Aerith said she would, and Tsubaki left with her usual light step.

"I think Tsubaki-sensei's proposal is a good one."

❋

Page 373

"It is. But someone else brought up the same thing."

Elmyra looked surprised — that was rare.

"The same day, separately?"

"I know — it feels like — no, there's no such thing as fate. But I couldn't help feeling that way. Coincidences piling up."

"Well, you'd be hard-pressed not to."

"Hey, Mom — you said there's no such thing as fate."

Something on the table caught her eye. The single yellow flower in its small vase.

"Flower language — reunion, wasn't it."

Elmyra said it and looked at the flower. Then, quietly, almost to herself: And yet — maybe I'll say no after all.

"I'm sorry — I'm a bit tired. I'm going to lie down."

Elmyra went upstairs, for some reason quickly, as if fleeing.

✉

Are you well? Zack — listen. I had an offer to sell flowers up on the Plate. And then, on the same day, from a completely different person, the same suggestion. So — selling flowers on the Plate, I don't mind the idea at all. But I can't quite bring myself to say yes — to feel ready— Because I'm frightened, somehow.

Page 374

(This is heavy…) (I'll burn it.)

She set down her pen and sighed. She'd written something to worry Zack again.

Elmyra's cough, from upstairs. She went to check on her. Elmyra was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back curved in.

"The cough gets worse at night. This is the position that helps."

"Want to take your medicine?"

Pages 375–382

"Not yet."

She sat beside Elmyra and rubbed her back.

"Thank you. Hey, Aerith."

"Mm?"

"You don't have to go up there. Selling flowers in the Slums is enough — we do just fine. I think I've gotten too greedy."

"The thing is — selling flowers up on the Plate feels frightening somehow. I don't know why. It's not that I'm against making money. I don't think you're greedy, Mom. But — it scares me."

"Even knowing that?"

"Really?"

"Yes…"

"You went up carrying flowers whose language means reunion — guided by fate — and Zack wasn't there. Isn't that what you're afraid of?"

The hand rubbing Elmyra's back went still. The words worked their way in slowly.

"You always think the worst when it comes to Zack, don't you."

"I mean — it doesn't matter."

"Then it's fine."

"It does matter."

❋

She was right and Aerith didn't want to admit it. If she admitted it, it would become real. She knew that was foolish. But — she was ruled by it.

"I'm going! I'll go up and sell flowers. I'll fill a city with no flowers with flowers!"

Elmyra stared up at her, speechless.

"I'm going — I mean it!"

"Don't do something you'll regret."

❋

The next morning, still unsettled, eating breakfast — Elmyra spoke up.

"To go up to the Plate, you'd need to talk to Tseng. Your ID doesn't cover the Plate."

"Oh! Right…"

Strangely — when she said that, I felt relieved. And then felt low because I'd felt relieved.

"Well, you won't know until you try. Be honest with yourself. Should you do it? Should you not?"

"Before that — I need to talk to Mom."

"You should."

"Oh — very decisive."

"It's the opposite of what I said last night. I've been thinking it over. I keep trying to push my own ideas onto you. Even after all these years I still can't quite manage being a mother."

❋

"That's not true!"

Elmyra straightened her rounded back and looked at her.

"Anyway — this is my problem. You are wanted. Not fate, or anything like that — it's your way of brightening everything around you, making it lively. Your personality. Your gift, maybe. Your moment has come. Yes — that's what's being called for. Just give everything you have on that bright stage."

"Mom, you're flattering me. But — yes. My moment. I like that."

"Did I give myself away? You did seem relieved."

"No — oh, I don't need to go anymore."

"That's not what I mean. Tseng is very much ready."

"Ugh — that's not—"

"I've been dealing with him a long time. Let me go to Tseng about it myself. We'll figure something out."

"Even if you can't sell there yourself — you could have Jonas or Angel handle it, couldn't you? Up on the Plate flowers sell for more — if someone could bring them up for you, you could keep tending the flowers here and everyone involved would—"

❋

—everyone could bring in a decent amount. Lately the white and black flowers have been joined by blue ones, and now red.

Where had they come from? She liked to imagine Angel carrying them back, tucked against his body, on the nights she wasn't there. Even without seeds, a fallen petal could be the beginning of something. Nothing that happened here was impossible. This was a special place.

The sound of the door.

"Tseng!"

He came toward her through the flower bed, expression unchanged.

"Elmyra told me. I'm pressed for time — I'll be brief."

"Right."

"I'm issuing a new ID. Coverage: Sector 5 Slums and Sector 8 on the Plate."

"Yes!"

"This is a request — please keep to the area around the station in Sector 8. It's safer than the Slums, but there are more people, which means more risk. You know how short-staffed the Turks are."

Tseng reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out an ID card.

❋

"Now. There is one condition for handing over this card."

Oh no, oh no.

"There is a person I need you to speak with. A brief phone call. They have some questions."

"I have questions too. Will they enjoy it?"

Tseng smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"Professor Hojo?"

Tseng nodded.

"No. Absolutely not."

"I hear that often. So — what will you do?"

The mean Turk — Tseng waved the ID card tantalizingly and slipped it back into his pocket.

Meanwhile he took out a phone. Her whole mind was full of refusals. But — even without the ID, flowers could be sold on the Plate. She didn't have to be there herself. She would have to speak to hateful Hojo. No — no — no — but without agreeing she wouldn't get the card. And she wanted to go. The more she imagined not being able to, the louder something inside her grew.

"I want to go. I've decided."

❋

Tseng nodded slightly. A long wait — then the sound of ringing through the speaker. Then a voice picked up.

"Yes."

A chill ran through her. But through the phone, for some reason, the voice was different from her memory. It's all right. I can do this.

"Ah — yes. This is Tseng. Is Aerith there?"

"Professor Hojo — Aerith will speak with you."

"Kukukuku — kukukuku — your voice has grown up. I've been occupied with other matters lately. The Ancient-related work is on hold. Left it too long — I see, yes. She resembles Ifalna."

"Please don't worry about it."

"You were involved in the Adelia Ash affair, I'm told."

"A little."

"You believe Ash's degradation showed genuine improvement through a non-scientific method?"

"I do believe it. She improved. She was able to go home. She could hold a brief conversation."

"Impossible. Words curing degradation? Impossible. Though — words are the foundation of magic too, and to apply a magical concept to physical reality requires a core of power. Where does that power come from—"

Hojo's words half-made sense and half didn't. But listening, she kept thinking of Konrad's words.

"Love. Affection. Friendship. I thought it might be applicable to the SOLDIER enhancement process — but the observations of someone without a scientific eye are worthless after all. Apparently familiar with SOLDIERs. I had assumed Hojo's specialty was Ancient research, but—"

"Professor — do you know Zack? Zack Fair?"

"I know him — ah, that one."

"Zack is alive, isn't he? He's alive?"

"Of course he's alive — obviously—!" The call cut off abruptly. Who do you think I am? Tseng pocketed the phone and turned toward the ID card—

"The professor said — with that shout — of course. She heard herself make a loud sound."

Aerith asked, barely able to breathe:

"The professor — said Zack is alive."

Tseng left, unhurried and unbothered, the way he always did.

"I know nothing."

❋

"He's alive. He's alive!"

She looked up at the gallery and screamed it.

"He's alive!"

Basket full of flowers, Aerith stood at the Sector 5 Slums station. Through the normal process — Jonas was supposed to meet her at Sector 8 station on the Plate. Would they find each other?

It was her first time on the train. Jonas was meeting her at Sector 8.

"There's no point worrying."

If they missed each other, she'd just come back. Or she could try selling right at the station. At ten times the price, maybe. She closed her eyes and pictured it. Again and again — houses with flowers multiplying, customers coming one after another. Everyone buying flowers, putting them in their windows.

Midgar, full of flowers.

From the window of the moving train, Aerith watched the station platform fall away. Wallet full of money—

Mom. I'm going to be happy.

End of Aerith's Chapter — Pages 191–382

Final notes for the chapter:

The Jonas reappearance on pp.368–370 provides a gentle comic beat before the chapter's final movement — his businesslike name card exit mirrors his earlier confession-and-sprint, and Aerith's barely-suppressed laughter is a note of lightness before the heavier scenes ahead.

Tsubaki and Jonas proposing the Plate flower-selling on the same day — one of the chapter's cleaner examples of the fate-vs-coincidence motif, arriving just after Elmyra's speech about coincidence being precious.

Elmyra's maybe I'll say no after all on p.373 — followed immediately by her cough returning — is quietly devastating foreshadowing. Her health has been present throughout the chapter; here it becomes a shadow over the Plate proposal.

The letter on p.373–374 that Aerith decides to burn — too heavy, she says — is the last unburned letter we see. The one she ties to Angel's leg on p.367 has already been sent. The chapter ends with her on the train, having heard Hojo confirm Zack is alive, heading to the Plate for the first time.

The final line — Mom, I'm going to be happy — closes the chapter exactly where it needs to. Quiet, forward-facing, earned.

Revision Notes:

High priority:

The Tseng/Degradation explanation on pp.303–305 is the most technically dense passage in the chapter. The logic of why Zack's rank means he's safe from near-term Degradation is clear in the Japanese but required some reconstruction from OCR fragments. Worth a close read to make sure the reasoning tracks.

The Lifestream vision on pp.345–346 — Aerith's first active Cetra ability use — has some OCR noise in the original. I made interpretive choices about the sequence of sensations. If anything feels off about the mechanics of how she locates Adelia, that passage is worth checking.

Medium priority:

The Konrad love-therapy speech on pp.320–321 is deliberately meandering in the Japanese — earnest and slightly hard to follow by design. I preserved that quality, but a reader might want to verify the core idea landed clearly.

The fate vs. coincidence conversation on pp.341–343 is the chapter's philosophical heart. The translation is faithful but this is a passage where nuance matters enormously — worth a careful read.

Lower priority but worth noting:

Jes Wayne's name spelling inconsistency across the OCR pages — I standardized to Jes Wayne throughout but the source varies. If an official romanization ever surfaces, that's the one to use.

The unidentified blue petal Angel brings back remains unresolved — intentional mystery in the source, so I left it as such.