#it’s about tifa and her connection to the piano and cloud’s memory of that connection

[daylighteclipsed]

Cloud’s interest in the piano in Rebirth feels so random and sudden, but I like to think it’s his subconscious trying to draw him closer to Tifa. Like his true self is trying to jog these very old childhood memories from when he and Tifa were friends, before he pulled away from her. Days of running back and forth to each other’s houses, when Tifa’s mom was still alive and teaching Tifa to play the piano. Cloud used to listen to Tifa play piano when they were little kids as, if you perform well in Tifa’s Nibelheim quest (My White-Haired Angel), he remarks that she sounds a lot better than he remembers lol It also feels very pointed that our introduction to the piano mini game is through Cloud’s flashback of Tifa’s room, and that the only time these mini game skills really matter for the player is during Tifa’s side quest, when she plays the piano in (the exact replica of) her room for the first time since she was a kid.

[spyder-m]

Rushing Back

Summary:  For as much as they had grown older, as much as they had changed, Cloud remained steadfast in his urge to protect her. An introspective deep-dive into Cloud and Tifa's affectionate moments from throughout the remake.

Ao3 / FF.net / Twitter

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Cloud constantly had to remind himself that Tifa had changed; that clearly, she could fight for herself now.

Though, the idea was difficult to grasp. For as much as she had grown, so much about her remained overwhelmingly familiar.

Her fingers were littered with callouses, her arms carrying strength and bruises he didn't recognise. They spoke of a violence at odds with the sweet Tifa Lockhart from his childhood, the girl who wore dresses and practiced piano in her bedroom.

Yet, that care and gentleness still permeated her every moment. In how she carried a sleeping Marlene up to her bedroom, in the meals and cocktails she lovingly prepared for her patrons at 7th Heaven, and makeshift family in Avalanche. In how she fought, not to callously inflict pain, but to protect the weak and vulnerable around her; to ease the suffering she recognised and had lived through herself.

Those distinct, ruby eyes may have been sharper, stretching out across less of her face, but they carried an unmistakable warmth, stirring the same, old butterflies in his chest.

Perhaps that was the reason he could never completely suppress the urge to protect her, to hold her like something fragile and delicate.

Because to him, in many ways, she still was.

Cloud couldn't help the worry he felt when Tifa volunteered to clear monsters out of Scrap Boulevard with him. Though, he was quick to catch himself, realising his concern was unfounded.

Tifa was part of Avalanche, a group that conducted bombing missions above the plate. She said she had been living in the city slums for five years, and seemed more than familiar with the area and the dangers that lurked there.

Still, it was jarring to see just how strong she had become; how easily she could fend off the monsters surrounding Sector 7.

He remembered her mention in passing that she wanted to train under Master Zangan, but couldn't have imagined she would take this naturally to fighting. Watching as she breezed effortlessly through another kata, Cloud grew disheartened, sensing that Tifa no longer needed him to save or protect her. That the promise they made together, no longer carry weight.

Despite the prodding it may have taken his younger, shyer self to accept, it had always been important to Cloud, something he was eager to let go of. Not when it had given him the determination and drive to become stronger. Not after it kept the connection between them alive, through their separation, through moving years and miles from the point it had been made.

As much as he worried about insulting her, about undermining her skill as a fighter, Cloud remained steadfast in honouring it, his body shifting faster than his mind could follow.

Instinctively, he would reach out to link a hand with her own at the slightest sign of danger. Helping pull her behind cover, catching her shoulder and drawing her closer to him.

It was these fleeting bursts of affection, he had for years felt starved of. Lost to the gaps in his memory. He sifted through hazy flashes of encouraging words and touches against his shoulder; an affection he could never properly place, or grasp onto.

That she seemed to reciprocate, only drew Cloud in deeper, making the habit harder to break.

As much as Cloud wanted to play cool and reclusive; to keep his newfound cohorts at a distance; Tifa somehow always managed to slip through the cracks.

Much like the little girl he remembered who would stubbornly seek him out, no matter how much he would try to shuffle by unnoticed; eyes trained anywhere but on her.

Somehow, she got through to him.

It didn’t hurt that her touch managed to ease the spasms and fits that were abruptly overtaking his muscles, the taunting voices and images flooding through him.

Unlike the vague flashes from his memory, that strong grasp, the scarred leather of her gloves, became a stable comfort he could root himself to.

It was… nice. A moment of weakness he allowed himself.

Around her, it didn’t feel dangerous to let his guard come down.

When all Cloud had known and devoted his life to in Shinra had turned and left him for dead, it was reassuring to learn that there was still something, someone, he could place his trust in.

With that feeling becoming almost staple to his survival, Cloud needed to reassure himself that Tifa was alright, that she was alive, by feeling her, solid and warm, in his arms.

He was overcome by the desperate urge to hold onto the last remaining connection to his sense of self, his home and memories, everything that had been lost in the flames that night.

He was still haunted by the memories of the last time he'd seen her, a crumpled, broken form slung at the bottom of that reactor's stairwell. Of having to carry her limp body away to safety, cursing that he couldn’t have arrived sooner.

The image would flash through his mind whenever she faced a moment of peril, stirring him into action. A self-conscious reminder to make up for lost time and failed efforts, for all the years he had been missing.

Yet, even then, Cloud sensed that though he'd grown stronger, it still wasn’t enough.

Now that he was older, he understood the fault in their idealised, naive promise. That their young minds perceived only the world through a lens of black and white and that things weren't always so simple. The root of Tifa's strife ran deeper than dangerous monsters needing to be slain.

Cloud could only become more conscious of how little wielding a sword did to ease Tifa's pain.

A sentiment never more apparent than the day that Shinra dropped the plate.

He could only watch, powerless, as Jessie’s life faded before their eyes, feeling the weight of her body slump deeper into his arms. Though never much for talking, he had hoped, desperately, that maybe his words could give her something solid to cling onto; a reason to continue to living.

But it didn't change anything, did nothing to soothe the tears streaming from Tifa's eyes, the hollow ache they woke in his chest.

The burning realisation that he had, once again, been too late. That, even if they had made their escape fast enough, their collective efforts wouldn't have been enough to save them.

That feeling didn't dissipate, not even when they returned to Elmyra's house.

From the creak of her door and languid footsteps descending down the stairs, it seemed that for all the strain she had been placed under Tifa could not rest peacefully. That finding Marlene, and even Wedge, unharmed and safe had not been enough to ease the loss of her friends.

The trepidation could no longer hold Cloud black, his concern and desire to help her, overwhelming. He stayed on her trail, at a distance, eventually finding her standing among one of Aerith's flower beds.

At the sight of her, a small part of Cloud was overcome by regret, wishing that he had stayed put. Any reason he could avoid having to stomach the hurt that radiated from her expression; the light in her eyes he had come to depend on, flickering away.

Her head dipped against his shoulder, yielding under the pain and exhaustion that weighed upon it, shivers wracking through her entire body. The brave, cheerful facade she had kept up, finally cracking.

Cloud was frozen, caught between flashes of fear and anger; shocked that someone as strong, as bright as Tifa could be left so broken. That on a planet overrun with people so callous and cruel, someone as undeserving as her would suffer, over and over.

For the second time in her life, everything had been stripped away from her. The home that she had had to rebuild from scratch, her town, her loved ones, even before the old wounds could properly heal.

First Nibleheim, now Sector 7. For the little he could recall of that horrific night, Cloud never realised it was an ache Tifa still carried with her.

Yet those words confirmed it, her voice cutting at his chest.

"They took everything from us. Again."

After the tragic blows that had wracked her life, one after the other. All the anguish, the grief she had not had the time to release, spilt over.

She had rushed into his arms briefly on top of the pillar, lingering barely long enough for him to register the feeling, the warmth it sparked in his chest. In a lighter moment, it would have been something he revelled in.

Now, there was a sudden, unfamiliar intimacy about the gesture, her heart laid bare before him. A vulnerability she tended to hide away from others.

In a way, it made sense that she would turn to him, allow him a glimpse at this side of her. He was the only one who knew the full extent of her suffering, the one who bore the same scars of Nibleheim's destruction.

Perhaps the most fitting person to give her comfort.

As Cloud's hands hovered, rigid and unsure, he could only think of how little he had changed. How he still felt like the same boy who had not known how to comfort Tifa, in the wake of her mother's death.

The memories burned together, the ricketty bridge collapsing, Tifa falling, the weeks she spent comatose, a reminder of how his hesitance had stopped him from keeping her safe. How he could have stepped in and helped her, but had been too shy.

Cloud shook his head, adamant not to let it happen again. He couldn't ignore her, not when she had actively sought him out.

With a sudden burst of determination, Cloud's arms surrounded her tightly, hoping that the strength he had forged could ease the burden; could offer, at least, the silent reassurance that she would not have to fight alone.