A/N: Oh my god, a chapter story? WHAT? Yup. A' I had actually intended for this to be a one-shot... But it shall be continued. Lord. Tifa's just too fun to write, though! =D
turning point: -noun ; a point at which a decisive change takes place; critical point; crisis.
Midgar was known for having fair weather, but today.. it was snowing. The chill nipped at Tifa's exposed arms and legs and more than once on this journey she had wished she had been able to change from her Mt. Nibel Guide uniform into something less.. revealing, but clothes required money and money was scarce enough already, especially to a traveling teacher and girl from the boondocks, so she begrudgingly wore the thin fabric and held her complaints.
Ahead of her, Master Zangan let curses loose under his breathe as he trudged along the muddy ground, because the snow that fell around them today wasn't the same sort as that which fell in Nibleheim. Not powdery and soft, but almost a sludge, laced with grime and made this way from pollution.
"Tifa! I can see the wall of Midgar!"
The elder man was pointing ahead, his beard trembling as he spoke, either from excitement or the simple fact that it was damn cold out here and why the hell was she still wearing this damned miniskirt?
"I can see." Tifa muttered, snippy from the weather. Zangan didn't even glance back at the girl, his footsteps picking up speed.
"Once we get here, you'll be set! You can start a new life!"
The brunette's eyes dropped towards the ground. She was a teenager, still a child back in Nibleheim, as much as she had denied it back then. It was a hard thought... a new life... when it seemed she was just starting her old one.
Tifa hadn't cried when she awoke the morning after Nibleheim burned... She found herself blinking awake in a makeshift bed on the floor of a cave, Zangan looking grave next to a fire that seemed to crackle too happily... No, she didn't recall crying. She did, however, remember being angry. So filled with rage that she felt sick to her stomach and wanted to destroy something.
The firelight reflected off of Zangan's wiry beard was pretty, she remembered thinking, and the warmth felt nice... But there was still that sickening heat in her gut and when the old man looked over to her, with those eyes of a father and that unbearable knowing look, she broke.
"WHY? Why did you save ME?"
Her voice shook and he looked away, his wrinkles seeming deeper and scars more vivid in the light.
"You... are my student. Like a child to me. I had to protect you." He stood and began tending the fire. "Most would say 'thank you for saving my life', Tifa."
Tifa's eyes averted and she pushed a woolen blanket from her, the roughness of the material scratching against her skin as she did so. She missed her room. Missed her soft quilt her mother had sewn for her. Missed her father. Her friends.. Her home... She chewed at her lip slightly, holding it in.. A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she tremblingly leaned into it.
"I... I wish I had died too..."
The strong hand on her collar tightened, squeezing painfully.
"Don't say such a thing, you spoiled child."
Zangan's voice was brusque, stern.
"If such was true... how would you get your revenge? How would you repay the man that caused you this pain?"
The girl tensed... revenge? Was that the solution she was so desperately searching for...?
She glanced towards her shaking hand, and pulled it into a fist. Yes. Yes, that was it. That's what would solve this... this anger... Her fingernails pushed into her palm in a manner that normally would have made her yelp out in pain, but today... since the fire... she was numb. Numb and angry and she would kill that man...
"Tifa? Hurry up!"
The martial artist had come to a stand-still, turning back to look at his hesitant student. Tifa shook her head- as if shaking the flashback from her mind- and started forwards again. The gate to the city was close, and the girl was beginning to notice the sheer immensity of Midgar. From here, she couldn't even see the tops of the skyscrapers on the upper plate, so different from Nibleheim where the largest building was the old manor... The air here smelled, muggy and stale and thick, obviously laced with pollution.
At the gate, stood a man, asking for 'keycards' to get in. Zangan pulled a small sheet of plastic from a knapsack on his hip and the man scanned it with a hand-held machine that reminded Tifa of a miniature cash register. Whilst she observed curiously, the feeling grew of a gaze on her. The man was gawking at her, his eyes greedily taking in her legs and exposed waist with scrutiny. She shifted, uncomfortable, and tried not to look at him. She figured this would be the start of many lewd expressions she would be given in this city...
Zangan, truly a saviour, wrapped an arm around his student and pulled her through the gate, away from the prying eyes.
The slums of the Midgar... smelled. No, seriously. Smelled awful. Tifa gagged when they entered Sector Seven, the scent of dead rats and people and beer and piss entering her nose all at once and who the hell could live here? She missed the mountains... the crisp air and scent of trees... This city was miserable. But... ShinRa was here. And that man. The man she had to kill. So, she would ignore the stench and grime caking her boots and snowy-sludge tracked in through the gate that was making it hard for her to walk without slipping and she would find him and kill him.
They met a man in the pub of a place called Wall Market, large and dark, with a gun grafted onto his arm. Tifa didn't know how he knew Zangan, or how the two entirely different men could even remotely be connected, but by the way her master light-heartedly called out "Barret!", she could tell they were friends, of sorts. 'Barret' was gruff, with a mouth like a sailor and a scent to match. He was brutal looking, tattoos on his muscled arms and dogtags around his neck. She caught a glimpse of the name on them, 'Dyne C-'.
"Dyne...? Who-?"
Tifa was cut off by a murderous look and Zangan's hand resting on her shoulder in a hushing manner. She supposed it was a fresh wound that she'd best leave alone...
The two men began to speak, about the Planet. How ShinRa was killing it, how the mako reactors were sucking out all the beauty of the world. She remembered the mako fountain in Mt. Nibel... thought of how it would disappear, just like Nibleheim, just like her dad, and Cloud, and her mother's warm quilt and her piano and the delicate flowers that bloomed by the well and oh god she hated ShinRa so much.
Barret was a terrorist. Of course, she knew of AVALANCHE. Everyone did. AVALANCHE was responsible for most of the anti-ShinRa acts that happened around the world... they killed a lot of people. Some deserved it. Others... didn't. Tifa didn't like death, hated it. Hated the pain that it brought her. But... she needed something.. something.. real. And death was very real, terrorism was real. And, with clenched fists and resolve and so much god damned RAGE, Tifa joined the number one terrorist organization in the world, in a place that stunk like shit and death, underneath falling apart metal where there should have been sky...
Sixteen, beautiful, and mad as hell. This was the start of Tifa Lockhart's new life.
A/N: So.. yup. Short introduction. Once again, I had intended this to be just a one-shot... =D R&Rs are appreciated.