Paper Tiger Burning

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.




“Can I help you?” the flower girl asked as I started taking fish fillets out for thawing. “I’m starting to feel pretty useless.”

I glanced at her. She stood close by, sightless, the light caressing her skin and making her hair glow. With her small hands clasped together, her lips parted and her body leaning toward me, she seemed eager but restrained.

My cock twitched.

I could think of one use for her that she wouldn’t like at all.

“I’m making rice and steamed green beans with the fish,” I said, “so no. But if you’d like you can sift through the black beans I plan to put in the slow cooker for tomorrow. I always find rocks in the bag.” As I spoke I put a bowl on the counter with the package of beans.

The Cetra nodded quickly, looking happy to be doing something. She quickly found the bag and sat down on the chair we’d left at the counter while tending to the breakfast clean-up. As I ran a sink full of cool water to defrost the fish in, I watched her carefully sort rocks from the beans. Her clever fingers easily found the foreign material, even without her eyes.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” she asked

I considered that. Talking wasn’t really my forte. Still, she had a pleasant voice; I liked the sound of her. “Tell me about Valentine,” I said.

“Vincent,” she sighed. “The most unhappy of all of my friends.”

“He was a Turk,” I prompted. I drained the sink and filled it again. I didn’t feel like waiting long on this fish. My belly kept growling. I focused on that to avoid thinking about Hojo, which made my hunger more acute.

“Until he got mixed up with Hojo,” the girl agreed. She paused. “Sephiroth, if I talk about Vincent you’re going to learn something that might upset you even more than learning Hojo is your father.”

I felt my shoulders slump a little. Taking down a mortar and pestle, I quickly began crushing rosemary and lemon zest. “Then tell me later,” I said finally. I didn’t believe I could bear another revelation. “Talk about something else.”

“Ok.” The girl finished sifting the beans and set them aside. “You say you eat mostly a vegetarian diet? Have you always?”

“No, just since my…revival.” I drizzled a mix of sesame and olive oil over the now thawed fish and rubbed the herbs in before setting them in the hot pan. The rice looked halfway done and the beans nearly finished. Good. My hunger reached epic proportions.

“Hm.” The flower girl drew her feet up to the seat of her chair, resting her chin on her knees. “Have you noticed anything else different?”

“Noise bothers me more.”

The Cetra bit her lip. “I guess it’s time for your body to change. Everyone goes through it. Some people develop allergies or get rid of old ones. I’ve noticed a distinct intolerance for chemicals and heavy grease.” She smiled a little. “The noise issue is most likely just you getting fed up with people. I don’t think you’re very social.”

I smiled as I flipped the fish over, knowing I was safe. She couldn’t see me. “I’m sure you’re right, flower girl,” I replied. “But you don’t irritate me. You comport yourself quietly and with grace.”

“You haven’t seen me dance,” she joked. “I’m all over the place. I have as much coordination while dancing as a drunken sailor on land.” She sniffed the air. “Dinner smells good. I haven’t had fish in ever so long. Hojo kept feeding me some sort of liquid slop.”

“The nutrient shakes,” I said. “I was nine before I ate anything remotely solid.”

“You’ve had an awful childhood, haven’t you?”

“If I discuss it, I’ll snap,” I confessed. “I’m not the most stable person.”

“Your core is iron,” she argued quietly. “Many people don’t survive Hojo. However, I’m not interested in making you talk about painful things; I just need to know what to avoid, I suppose.”

“I might get angry with you,” I said, “I might even scream and make threats, but I’m not going to carry them out and I’m not going to hurt you.” I began filling our plates as I spoke. I wondered if she would believe me. I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

She smiled sadly as she accepted her plate. “Sephiroth, you didn’t even hurt me when you killed me. I felt nothing but impact.”

*************************************************************************************

I brought my paperwork into the kitchen and spread it out over the table while the girl cleaned up our lunch mess. She hummed while she washed dishes. I discovered the sound of her actually made my work less tedious.

She was pleasant, this little Cetra. I could see why Cloud had mourned her so much. With her honesty, gentleness and agreeable nature she probably had balanced him out quite a bit.

I needed to give her another shirt to wear.

Her legs seemed to go on forever. I could see the curve of her slender hip quite easily. She had such a delicate looking body, curvy but not overly so. Her feet were high arched. I wondered if the cool floor bothered her.

“So, how are you going to divert Sheila?” she asked suddenly, smiling a little. I realized she was teasing me. Incredible that she felt bold enough to do that… “I mean, she seems awfully determined,” the girl went on. Her smile faded. “Too determined… like she has a motive other than sex.”

I considered that. While it was true Sheila seemed the lustful type, she did seem terribly aggressive. “You don’t think my appearance is enough?” I asked, honestly intrigued.

“It probably is, but what I know of Sheila Shinra makes me think there’s something more.” The girl dried her hands and walked to the table, sitting across from me. “Don’t misunderstand me; I know how you look even if I can’t see you right now. And, your status is something most women would love to ally with. But she has to understand you aren’t a playboy. You’re a soldier. What would she gain by sleeping with you other than bragging rights?”

“Nothing,” I admitted. “But the bragging rights have been enough for a few others.” I put my pen down and looked at my guest. “You suspect her on the issue of the hidden microphones?”

“I suspect anyone with the last name of Shinra,” the girl answered.

“You are wise to,” I replied. “But in answer to your original question, I have no idea how I will continue to divert her. I will not pretend my sexual orientation swings the opposite way; I come into contact with a lot of soldiers who would love to hear that.”

The girl bit her lip, seeming to stifle a laugh. “I’ll just bet,” she said after a moment. “And you can’t cast suspicion on your virility either; the news would be public sixteen seconds after it left your lips.”

“The life of a high profile sociopath,” I murmured. “But no, I’m not going to claim my equipment doesn’t work. No one would believe it anyway. I’m seen to be perfect.”

“Oh yes,” the girl said dryly, and I knew she had to be rolling her eyes under that blindfold. “No man is ever supposed to not be in the mood anyway. I’m sure in your case it’s tantamount to blasphemy!”

Amused, I propped my chin in my hand and looked at her. “I never expected you to be this candid,” I confessed. “For some reason your image comes as a shy, retiring girl.”

“It’s easier to speak my mind when I don’t have to meet your eyes,” she said, blushing. “Blindness can be liberating in some ways.”

“I’m aware of it; I used blindfolding techniques during the war,” I replied. “Am I a hidden confessor, then? Someone you can show your weaknesses?”

“I’m hopelessly outmatched with you, Sephiroth. What good would it do to dissemble? I might as well be open.”

She was easy to talk to. It almost dismayed me how smoothly she drew me out of myself, but rather than be troubled over it, I felt enchanted. It was just so new, so different. Boredom dominated my entire life. Talking to her didn’t tire me. By now I would have been crawling the walls trying to entertain and care for someone else, too, but instead I anticipated her to entertain me.

Extraordinary.

Perhaps Jenova had sensed I would find her interesting. The Cetra’s only threat had been her ability to use Holy; Jenova could have allowed me a non-lethal method to stop her. It bore thinking about. Maybe the Cetra’s threat had not been so much her mastery of Holy and her communion with the Planet, but her talent at taming beasts. I couldn’t question Jenova, naturally, but I would consider this idea seriously.

“Flower girl,” I said. “What is your name?”

“Aerith,” she replied.

“Beautiful,” I murmured. “It suits you.”

She turned her head, blushing again. Charmed, I watch the pink flush of blood spread all the way down to her throat.

She was nothing like Sheila. Point of fact, she wasn’t anything like the women I’d known. I’d dealt with shallow creatures, women who’d painted their blushes on their cheeks because they had no real ones to display.

I suddenly wanted an excuse to touch her. My eyes fell on her broken, ragged nails and the solution came to me. “I’ll be back in a moment,” I told her.

I retrieved my nail clippers and file from the bathroom cabinet, taking a bottle of heavy lotion as an afterthought. Pausing on the way through the living room, I changed the channel on the television to make it seem more like I sat in the living room. When I returned to the kitchen Aerith was waiting with her hands clasped together demurely. I slid a chair closer to her and sat. “It seems a shame,” I said. “You can do so much with your hands and yours have been neglected of late.”

She parted her lips in surprise. Touching the tips of her fingers, she grimaced. “Oh dear,” she murmured.

“Indeed.” I leaned closer. “Give me a hand and I’ll correct this oversight.”

Her face averted, her blush deepening, Aerith shyly offered me her left hand.

“Are you left handed?” I asked, taking her thumb first.

“I’m ambidextrous,” she answered. “It came in handy with learning the staff.”

“I’m sure,” I replied, slightly impressed. I was excellent with a sword no matter which hand I used, but I was predominantly left handed and couldn’t write with my right. Carefully, I began clipping a rounded shape to her nails. She had beautiful hands; long, slim, elegant. “What made you take up the staff?”

“Oh, it’s mostly a defense weapon,” she answered, seeming to become more comfortable. “I’m not very aggressive. Plus, it’s nice to have a little support when walking.” She paused. “You have very warm hands.”

“High metabolism,” I said, picking up the file. Her topic switches certainly came fast. “It’s higher than it used to be, interestingly. Cold has never been a problem, but I notice I get hungry more often than I did before. My hair grows faster too.”

“Can I ask a personal question?” Aerith began to blush again.

“Yes.” I filed carefully, enjoying the feel of her fingers. I usually hated holding someone’s hand. My flesh tingled slightly…

“You keep your hair very long…”

“A slap in the face to Hojo,” I said. “He shaved me bald every six months. I swore I would grow it out to spite him.” I finished her left hand and took her right. “It worked. He foamed at the mouth when I returned from basic training. What most people miss about Hojo is that he’s a walking mass of neuroses. He hates hair. He only wears his long because he forgets its there; his personal hygiene leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Well, it’s good that you could get him back even in small ways,” she said. “I did notice he had a hang up about his lab coat. Sometimes he would come in on his days off, dressed in casual clothes yet still wearing that infernal coat. I even saw him on the beach in Costa del Sol wearing that thing.”

“I think he sleeps in it,” I said. “If he ever remembers to shower, he probably still has it on.”

She giggled. “What a mental image,” she said.

I finished her nails and began pushing back her cuticles. Noticing she seemed a bit fatigued, I went quickly but carefully. “Are you tired, flower girl?” I asked.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “I don’t feel as sore as I used to, but my energy flags out fast.”

“Let me put some lotion on your hands quickly so you can take a nap,” I advised. I hated to let go of her, but I had to allow us both some distance. Though all this touching pleased me, I knew I could get pushy about it. I didn’t want to frighten her.

I’d done quite enough to make her never want to come near me.

Very soon she was on her way to my bedroom. I capped the lotion bottle and sat there in front of my abandoned work, thinking of the potential lying down in my bed.