Johnny revved his black hatchback as he entered the gates of the Sector 5 Slums.
The smooth hum of the engine drew everyone's attention. In the Slums, the sight of a private vehicle was an anomaly. Residents usually walked, crammed into trains, or—if they were lucky—rented a Chocobo, which was already considered a luxury. A shiny private car? That was a rare spectacle.
He passed the bustling market, then slowed as he drove by the Leaf Orphanage. Johnny parked his car in the dusty open lot near the orphanage, the same spot where he usually parked his bike.
Johnny killed the engine, then stared at the vacant lot next to him for a moment.
In his mind, the dust and trash vanished. He saw a vision of the future: a warm wooden house. A yard filled with lilies. A place where he and Aerith could raise their children, close to Grandma Elmyra, close to the laughter of the orphanage children.
Johnny's face flushed; a faint smile etched itself onto his lips.
Funny, he thought. In my old world, I was just a mercenary, killing Apostles aimlessly. Here, at fifteen... I'm thinking about starting a family.
In this world, sixteen was considered adulthood. The ten-year-old orphans playing tag outside were only five years younger than Johnny physically. Yet, the soul inside this body felt as old as the ruins of Midgar.
Johnny glanced in the rearview mirror. He was wearing his father Garrick's best black suit. It fit perfectly, wrapping neatly around his muscles. Earlier that morning, his mother, Marilla, had tied his tie with misty eyes.
"It fits perfectly. Now go. Be a real man."
Johnny loosened his collar slightly. With his hair combed back and the black suit, he looked like a member of the Turks at first glance.
He grabbed a bouquet of wildflowers he had bought at the market, then stepped out.
His strides were steady as he headed toward the wooden bridge in front of the Gainsborough house. The sound of the artificial waterfall rippled in the background, but it couldn't soothe his racing heart.
In front of the garden fence, two women were waiting.
Aerith stood there, looking beautiful but keeping her head bowed. She wore the long pink dress Johnny had bought yesterday, paired with a maroon bolero jacket. Her hair was neatly braided.
Beside her, Elmyra stood stiffly. The woman wore a dark beige long-sleeved blouse and clutched a boxy handbag against her stomach. Her face was cold, expressionless.
Elmyra's eyes swept over Aerith's appearance, then stopped on the new dress.
"This dress..." Elmyra's voice was sharp. "Did he buy this too?"
Aerith looked down, not daring to meet her mother's eyes. "Yes, Mom."
Johnny's footsteps stopped right in front of them.
The atmosphere was heavy and silent. Johnny didn't speak immediately. He offered the bouquet of flowers to Elmyra with both hands, his head bowed in respect.
"Good morning, Mother Elmyra," he greeted. His voice was low and steady.
Elmyra stared at the flowers, then at Johnny's face. A flash of anger ignited in the middle-aged woman's eyes. She accepted the flowers roughly, as if snatching them away.
Then, without warning, Elmyra's right hand raised high.
Her palm was open, ready to strike Johnny's cheek with the full force of a furious mother.
"DON'T!" Aerith screamed, stepping in to block Johnny while sobbing. "Please, Mom! Don't hit Johnny! It was my fault! I was the one who asked him to take me away!"
Johnny gently but firmly grasped Aerith's shoulders, moving the girl aside. He refused to hide behind a woman's back.
Johnny stood tall before Elmyra again. He didn't flinch. He didn't close his eyes. Instead, he leaned his face forward slightly, offering his cheek.
"No, Aerith. Your mother is right," Johnny said calmly.
He looked deep into Elmyra's eyes.
"Mother Elmyra... I am the one in the wrong. I am a man; I should have set boundaries. I was the one who presumed to touch your daughter without permission."
Johnny placed his hand over his chest.
"I came here to take responsibility. If you want to slap me... do it. If you brought the kitchen knife you promised... stab me. I won't run. I won't flinch a single inch."
"But allow me to say one thing," Johnny's voice grew heavy, full of emotion. "I love Aerith. And I will lay down my life to protect her—from monsters, from Shinra, or even from your anger."
Elmyra's hand, still in the air, trembled.
She stared at the young man before her. She searched for doubt, searched for a lie. But all she found was steely resolve.
And that was when Elmyra saw it.
His eyes.
A few days ago, Elmyra remembered Johnny's eyes being dark—ordinary brown or black. But this morning, under the Sector 5 sunlight, those eyes glowed Green. A bright green with faint vertical pupils.
Eyes similar to Aerith's. Cetra eyes.
Elmyra's breath hitched. This boy... He has changed.
Slowly, Elmyra's hand lowered. She didn't slap him. Her anger mixed with sadness and fear for the destiny that might befall her daughter. Yet, she also saw honesty.
Elmyra let out a long sigh, squeezing the bouquet of flowers in her hand.
"Save your promises for later," Elmyra said coldly, though her eyes were slightly moist. "Now, prove your guts in front of your own parents."
Elmyra grabbed Aerith's hand roughly, pulling her past Johnny. Elmyra deliberately slammed her shoulder hard against Johnny's muscular arm.
Thud.
"Drive us," she commanded without looking back.
"Yes, Mother," Johnny replied, exhaling the breath he had been holding.
Inside Aerith's bolero pocket, Ivalera covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, though she felt pity in her heart. This morning was truly hell for her Princess.