[Sector 5 – Before Dawn]
The slums did not sleep.Even before sunrise, the deep metallic groan of the upper plate hummed through the air, a constant weight on the chest. Steam hissed from cracked pipes. The faint rattle of rail lines carried in the stillness, accompanied by the murmur of early risers.
But here, in a forgotten corner of Sector 5, something bloomed that should not have.
A garden.
Aerith knelt among the flowers, her dress brushing the damp soil. Yellow, white, and soft pink petals turned toward her as if the faint shaft of light from the broken plate above existed solely for them. She hummed as she worked, fingers deftly pinching away dying leaves and brushing dirt from tender buds.
The air here was different. Lighter. Even the scent — fresh earth, faint sweetness — stood apart from the metallic tang of the rest of Midgar. The Lifestream's hum was stronger here.
She paused, closing her eyes, letting it fill her.
The hum shifted.
One comes.
Her brows furrowed. "…Who?"
A shadow that is not shadow. Not born. Not grown.
The sensation was unsettling — a ripple of something foreign in the familiar flow. The Lifestream's "voice" was never truly words, more a layering of emotion, impression, and meaning that her mind translated. But the unease was clear.
She looked down at her flowers, fingers brushing a petal as though it could answer her. "That doesn't sound… good."
The hum faded, leaving only the soft rustle of petals and the distant hiss of steam.
[Sector 7 – Departure]
In Sector 7, the air was heavier, the neon signs already flickering to life in the early gloom. Revenhart stepped out of Seventh Heaven, scarf pulled high, his eyes scanning the street with casual precision.
Narberal walked at his side, her posture straight, gaze hard enough to cut steel.
Shinra's presence had changed overnight. Two-man posts were now four-man. Patrol routes overlapped. Drones hung in the air longer before drifting on.
Someone issued new orders. My arrival did not go unnoticed.
"Revenhart-sama," Narberal murmured without looking at him, "permission to—"
"No," he said softly. "We observe. A response now would feed their curiosity."
They moved at an even pace, not hurried, not slow. Two strangers passing through the slums — nothing more.
[Checkpoint]
The first Shinra checkpoint was manned by young recruits, their armor too clean, rifles held like props.
"Papers," one said, his voice cracking.
Revenhart handed over a small pouch of gil without a word. The guard glanced inside, swallowed, and waved them through.
Currency — still the universal key.
Narberal glanced back once. "Pathetic."
"Common. Soldiers of a fortress city rarely face a real threat. They forget what vigilance is."
[The Streets of Sector 5]
The route between Sectors 7 and 5 wound through narrow alleys and wider avenues where the plate's supports loomed like iron giants. The deeper they went, the more the air changed — still metallic, but threaded with a faint, almost imperceptible freshness.
Children darted past, chasing a tin-can ball. A vendor shouted about morning noodles. A hunched man in a patched coat offered "lucky charms" from a table of scrap.
A boy bumped into Revenhart, small hand dipping toward his pocket. Revenhart caught the wrist without looking down.
The boy froze, eyes wide. Revenhart placed a single gil coin into his palm and released him.
The boy bolted.
Narberal frowned. "You let him go."
"He'll spread the word that we're not worth the trouble. Fear is one kind of protection. Debt is another."
[Sector 5 – A Different Slum]
Sector 5's slum had a different rhythm from 7's. It was quieter, the market smaller and more orderly, though still worn. The buildings leaned less, the streets slightly cleaner. And here and there, patches of green peeked through cracks — weeds, wildflowers, small signs of stubborn life.
The Lifestream's hum was more distinct here, a low, steady pulse beneath the noise.
Closer to the source… or less interference from the reactors.
They passed a rusted playground where a swing creaked gently. A handful of stalls opened for early customers, their owners giving the newcomers curious glances.
Then he felt it.
The pull.
Stronger than before, not sight or sound, but a pressure — a thread winding through the air and settling in his chest.
[The Garden]
He found her in the middle of a patch of flowers that had no business surviving in Midgar's poisoned soil.
The girl in the pink dress rose from a crouch, brushing dirt from her hands. Green eyes met his, bright and clear despite the slum's dim light.
The hum roared in his head for a heartbeat, and he felt — absurdly — as though something was measuring him.
Aerith tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You're… not from here."
Revenhart's scarf hid his mouth, but his brow lifted faintly. "And what makes you say that?"
"The planet told me."
Narberal's eyes narrowed. "Revenhart-sama—"
He held up a hand. "Noted."
To Aerith, he said, "Does the planet talk to everyone?"
"No," she said, voice light. "Just some of us."
The pull between them didn't fade. If anything, it sharpened.
[The Garden – Probing Words]
Aerith stepped closer, the hem of her pink dress brushing flower stems without crushing them.
"You feel… layered," she said. "Like there's something real, and something on top of it. The surface is human. The rest…" She trailed off, as if weighing whether to finish the thought.
Revenhart met her gaze steadily. The disguise skill is functioning. But she's reading past it, or sensing the underlying form.
"I've been told I'm complicated," he said.
"Mm. The planet doesn't like complicated," she replied with an almost playful tone, though her eyes were serious. "But… it also doesn't want you gone."
Pragmatism from the planet itself? Interesting.
Narberal's voice was sharp. "You speak as though this 'planet' is a thinking being."
Aerith glanced at her. "To some of us, it is. Always has been."
They spoke of simple things for a few minutes — flowers, weather, the little differences between sectors — yet each answer was a test. Aerith's questions probed for origin, affiliation, intent. Revenhart's replies offered truth wrapped in ambiguity.
When she asked, "Where's home?" he said, "Farther than the train runs."
When she asked, "Do you work for Shinra?" he said, "No."
When she asked, "Are you dangerous?" he said, "Not unless someone insists."
[Shinra HQ – The Board Reacts]
Miles away, in the top floors of Shinra HQ, multiple departments had eyes on the same grainy camera feed from Sector 5.
Reeve tapped a pen against his teeth. "We have an unknown interacting with Gainsborough. That's… concerning."
Scarlet lounged in her chair. "If he's interested in her, perhaps he's an Ancient too. Imagine what the science department could do with two specimens."
Hojo's laugh was low and unpleasant. "He's not of the planet. The Lifestream moves around him like oil around water. But the girl's reaction… she sees something familiar."
Heidegger snorted. "Who cares what he is? If he's not with us, he's against us. We've got the Turks for this."
Palmer raised a hand half-heartedly. "If he's from… space… maybe he knows about rockets?"
Nobody answered him.
[Turks – Rooftop Analysis]
On a rooftop overlooking the garden, Reno leaned on a pipe, goggles pushed up. "Boss, you sure you don't want me to just go say hi?"
Tseng's voice in his earpiece was firm. "Not yet. We watch. We learn."
Rude, silent as always, lowered his binoculars. "She's comfortable with him."
"That's the problem," Tseng replied. "She's comfortable too easily. But this one—"
Reno smirked. "—don't look like the type to sell flowers."
[The Escort]
When Aerith finally straightened, she brushed her hands on her dress. "Well, it's not smart to stay in one place too long. Want me to walk you out?"
Revenhart considered. "It would be safer if I walked you."
She smiled faintly. "Suit yourself, Mr. Revenhart."
They took the winding route back toward her home. Shinra patrols slowed as they passed, eyes tracking the unlikely pair. Narberal's hand hovered near her weapon more than once, but Revenhart's slight headshake kept her in check.
Aerith hummed a quiet tune. The Lifestream pulsed faintly in response, and Revenhart caught himself matching his steps to its rhythm.
"You hear it too, don't you?" she asked softly.
"…Sometimes," he said.
"Then maybe you're not as foreign as you think."
[Elmyra's Welcome]
They stopped at a modest house tucked into a quieter corner of the sector. The door opened before they knocked.
Elmyra Gainsborough looked them over — first her daughter, then Narberal, then Revenhart. Her eyes lingered on him, sharp despite her polite tone.
"Friend of yours?" she asked Aerith.
"Just met," Aerith said cheerfully.
"Mm." Elmyra stepped aside just enough to let her daughter in, but not enough to invite the others. "Thank you for walking her home."
Revenhart inclined his head. "A pleasure."
The door closed with a soft click.
[Northern Crater – The Silver Shadow Stirs]
Far to the north, the Lifestream churned in a great frozen cavern. Sephiroth stood in its center, eyes closed, senses stretching far beyond the ice.
A ripple.A current that did not belong.
Not human. Not Cetra. Not monster. Something else.
The flow shifted around it like water avoiding a jagged stone.
Interesting.
His lips curved in the faintest smile.
Let's see if the stone cracks… or sinks.