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.




“How could you just let them go like that?” I asked, pacing in front of Hojo. The two men had left an hour ago, but it felt like thirty years to me. I didn’t want either of them hurt and everyone seemed to conspire against me toward that end. “You know their history!”

Hojo watched me walk back and forth, eyes glittering but neither moving nor speaking. Sitting on the couch like a statue, arms relaxed, his calm demeanor irritated me.

“I mean, Sephiroth could advance into his genuine hatred of Cloud and go no further!” I pulled on a hank of my hair in frustration. “And if he stays there, how are we going to give testimony about Havars? He won’t know anything about what we did!”

Still, Hojo didn’t speak. He just sat there, eyes watching me intently.

Exhausted, I powered my body and my irritation with pure stubbornness. I could not, would not sit here and wait quietly, not knowing the fate of Sephiroth and Cloud. I went to the door, putting my hand on the knob. “I can’t stand this,” I announced.

Suddenly, I was lifted into the air. Hojo hefted me bodily, carrying my wiggling form all the way to the couch. I found myself thrust into the corner of it, Hojo looming over me. “You will sit,” he commanded. “I won’t have you burning yourself up just because you can’t stand not being in control.”

I gasped, offended he thought this was about me. “This is not about my not being in control,” I protested, attempting to rise. He pushed me back down and held me down with a hand on my shoulder.

“It is,” he insisted. “Stop struggling, Aerith.”

I wrestled with his weight a moment before my energy fizzled out. Tears seemed to just burst from my eyes as I realized Hojo would not let me go to the rescue of my friends. “I don’t understand,” I said, looking at him through a veil of water. “You don’t want Sephiroth hurt, I know you don’t!”

“Of course I don’t.” Hojo shook his head at me. “I don’t want him hurt and I don’t want you hurt. But you seem determined to hurt yourself just to prove you can fix everything.” He sat down beside and against me, pinning me between himself and the arm of the couch. “You can’t fix everything,” he stressed. “You aren’t going to interfere or attempt to heal either of them, do you understand me?”

I got mad. How dare he tell me what to do? I made another attempt at getting up. “You’re not the boss of me,” I hissed, reverting to childish means to get my point across.

“I am right now,” he argued, throwing out an arm and keeping me still. “You’re just like my son, certain you know what’s best for everyone twenty four hours a day.” He pushed a little, taking the fight out of me. “Well, surprise! You don’t know everything.”

“I should have left you crazy!” I closed my eyes, quivering with the urge to blast Hojo off the couch with my materia and my remaining strength.

He laughed. “But you didn’t,” he pointed out. “So you’ll have to heed me.”

Silent, I listened to my own breathing. My brain whirled with so many thoughts I could barely grab onto any of them, but underneath that my body twitched with irritation. I felt compelled to leave. If I could only go to the plate and make sure the fight didn’t progress toward a fatality for either man! But hateful Hojo wouldn’t let me get up!

Then, I felt him relax marginally. I took my chance and leaped up, determined to make my escape. Hojo’s arm went around my waist in an instant, pinning my arms to my sides and keeping me still against his wiry frame. “Stop this,” he said firmly. “Straighten up and use your head a moment instead of your heart.” He shook me a little, clearing the fog in my mind.

We stood there, panting.

“Listen to me, Cetra,” Hojo said. “Sephiroth’s advancement is exponentially doubling. He will indeed pass into his grudge against Strife, but it won’t last.” Hojo dragged me back to the couch and put me on it a second time. “Sephiroth has quite a few dangerous stages to move through before he becomes the man you know.” Hojo leaned over me, black eyes snapping. “Think for a moment. Strife is the only one who can handle Sephiroth. We’ll just make his job harder if we’re there.” He put his index finger so close to my nose I went cross-eyed just to look at it. “At any given point between now and the finish, he’ll probably hate you, or at least what you represent. His loathing of me has only just calmed. The prospective for disaster here is enormous!”

I blinked.

Oh Planet, he was right.

Confronted with the three of us, Sephiroth could go mad with hate.


Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Now I truly began to cry. Hojo was acting in everyone’s best interest and I’d been hurtful to him. Without his straight thinking I could have gone and made everything worse!

“Now, Cetra,” I heard him say uneasily, his voice uncertain but kind. “Here, don’t cry.” His hand clumsily patted my shoulder. “Everything will be fine, I’m sure of it.”

I clutched onto his old coat, crying harder. Everything seemed such a mess. I was tired; beyond tired, so tired I hadn’t been able to see something important right in front of my eyes. I could have ruined it all with my good intentions and need to officiate over everyone in my life. I was so arrogant.

Hojo gave one of his familiar, eternally expressive sighs, sitting beside me. I felt his arms go around me. “Alright, you go ahead and cry,” he relented. “If there’s one thing you taught me, it’s that crying does help sometimes.”

“I shouldn’t have said I preferred you crazy!” I sobbed. “And I thought you were being hateful!” I clutched him harder. “And I’m just so worried!”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m not offended.” He patted my head a little, obviously unsure of how to comfort. “Here, I have an idea.” He struggled up with me half in his lap and grabbed Sephiroth’s landline phone off the cradle. “Call Valentine and ask him to come by here. I’ll give him the electrical disruptor and you can send him out to watch.”

Eyes blurring, I punched in Vincent’s cell number.

“Yes?” his calm, rumbling voice answered.

“Vincent,” I said, sniffling a little. “Could you come by Sephiroth’s apartment?”

“Aerith?” Vincent was so quiet I believed I could hear him thinking. “Are you alright?”

“No,” I said, strangling. “I’m upset, I’m worn out and I need you.”

“I’ll be there in eight minutes.”

Click.


I’d nearly dozed off by the time the knock came. “It’s open,” Hojo said.

Vincent came in, pausing at the sight of me balled up nearly atop Hojo. His head tilted. If it hadn’t been such a somber situation I would have found his hesitation funny.

“Valentine,” Hojo greeted. “Would you get that small pistol off the side table?”

Vincent’s red eyes flicked to the disruptor. Still watching us, he crossed the room and picked up the gun. I saw him puzzling out its purpose. I was so tired now I couldn’t even talk to him. I hoped Hojo could manage.

“My son regressed mentally at the end of our excursion to Havars’ lab,” Hojo said, alleviating my concern. “In six hours he’s managed to struggle back up to the age of twenty. Strife came by to check on things and offered to fight Sephiroth in order to prompt his age advancement.”

Vincent nodded. “You both want me to make sure it doesn’t turn fatal, since neither man will find me openly hostile,” he guessed, pulling the chamber back on the gun’s battery. “Where are they?”

“The ruins of the fallen plate,” Hojo answered. “The disrupter won’t permanently damage either of them, but it will knock them out.”

Vincent nodded ever so slightly. His gaze went to me. “Is Aerith going to be alright?” he asked, concern in his dark voice.

“If she sleeps,” Hojo said. “Would you please cover us up with a blanket or something?”

Vincent walked into the bedroom, coming back with that chocobo feather quilt that Sephiroth had wrapped me in my first night here. An easy jerk of his arms unfurled it over me and Hojo. I thanked him with my eyes, but they were already closing…

“I’ll return with them both alive,” I heard Vincent promise.