The air in Nibelheim always carried a crisp edge, mixed with the fragrance of mountain pines and the faint, almost imperceptible metallic scent drifting from the distant mako reactor.
For the children who lived there, the world was made up of the wishing well in the center of town, the wooden houses surrounding it, and Mt.
Nibel, shrouded in cloud and mist all year round.
But for Cain, that world had one extra thing in it, an invisible wall.
“Cain, thank you so much…
Be careful.
Don’t hurt yourself.” Mrs.
Lockhart, Tifa’s mother, stood by the back door of her tavern, her face carrying a complicated mix of gratitude and unease.
In front of her, a boy who looked no older than eight or nine was unloading a barrel of ale from a wagon with a steadiness completely at odds with his age.
The oak barrel was wider than his upper body, heavy enough to make a grown man struggle, yet in Cain’s hands it looked like nothing more than an oversized toy.
He set it down firmly on the ground with a dull thud.
Cain looked up, revealing a face damp with sweat but bright as sunlight.
He grinned, showing two rows of white teeth.
“It’s fine, Mrs.
Lockhart.
This really isn’t heavy at all.” He was telling the truth.
To him, it really was light.
His right arm, just a little thicker and stronger than his left, seemed to contain an endless supply of strength.
“Cain!
You’re amazing!” A clear, bell-like voice rang out as Tifa came running out from inside, her two cute braids bouncing.
Her eyes sparkled with admiration.
Without the slightest hesitation, she ran to Cain’s side, patted the solid oak barrel with her little hand, then tilted her head up at him as if she were looking at a hero who could do anything.
Cain scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his cheeks turning faintly red.
In all of Nibelheim, only Tifa looked at him that way.
In the eyes of the other children, what he saw far more often was fear, distance, and that whispered word, monster.
“Hey, Cain!
Tifa!
Come play kick the can with us!” Several village children were waving from the square in the distance, led by a boy named Martin.
Tifa lit up at once and grabbed Cain by the hand, already tugging him forward.
“Come on, Cain, let’s go together!” But Cain hesitated.
He liked playing with everyone, but he knew things rarely turned out the way he hoped.
“Hurry up, Cain!
You can be it this time.
You’ll definitely catch all of us in no time!” Martin shouted, a trace of ill intent hidden in the provocation.
With Tifa insisting, Cain finally joined the game.
He stood by the wishing well in the center of town, turned his back to the others, covered his eyes, and counted loudly.
“One, two, three…” The children scattered, hiding behind houses and haystacks.
By the time Cain reached one hundred and turned around, the wide-open square was empty except for a lone metal can.
His task was to guard it while catching everyone who was hiding.
At first, the game went smoothly enough.
Cain’s speed and reflexes far surpassed those of children his age, and he quickly caught two kids who had not hidden well enough.
But just as he was about to go after Martin, who had hidden the farthest away, one of the children he had already caught seized the chance and sprinted toward the can, shouting, “I’m kicking the can!” Cain whipped around at the sound and charged forward on instinct.
He was so fast he looked like a black streak of lightning.
The moment the child was about to touch the can, Cain swung his foot too.
He only meant to tap it away gently and stop him.
But he forgot to hold back.
Bang!
With a deafening noise, the poor can did not roll a few feet like usual.
It shot straight into the sky like a cannonball.
It traced an absurd arc through the air, flying higher and higher until it became a tiny black dot and vanished into the forest at the foot of Mt.
Nibel.
Everyone was stunned.
The square fell completely silent.
The child who had run for the can dropped to the ground in fright, staring blankly up at the sky.
Martin stepped out from where he had been hiding, pointing at Cain, his face full of fear and anger.
“Y-you monster!
Where did you kick it?
That was my can!” “I…
I didn’t mean to…” Cain waved his hands frantically, trying to explain, but his words felt weak and useless under the frightened stares of the other children.
“Stay away from him.
He might kick us away too,” another child whispered, pulling his friend a few steps back.
“Monster.” “Monster.” The muttering turned into open accusation.
That invisible wall rose again between Cain and the others, cold, solid, impossible to ignore.
Cain stood in the middle of the square, sunlight falling over him, but it did nothing to drive away the chill in his heart.
He lowered his head and clenched his fists tight.
That right arm filled with strength now felt unbearably heavy and shameful.
“Cain didn’t do it on purpose!” At that moment, Tifa rushed in front of him and spread her arms to shield him, like a brave little hen protecting someone behind her.
She glared at Martin and the others.
“You’re the ones being mean!
Cain is just a little stronger than everyone else!
He’s always helping people, did you all forget that?” “That’s different!
He…” Martin started to argue, but under Tifa’s unwavering stare, he finally just huffed and stormed off with the others.
Soon, only Cain and Tifa were left in the square.
Cain still kept his head lowered, his long bangs hiding his eyes.
He could feel Tifa beside him.
He could smell the faint fragrance clinging to her hair.
But even that warmth could not fully chase away the loneliness in his chest.
“Cain?” Tifa called softly.
He did not answer.
Tifa took his hand and, without giving him a choice, led him to their secret place, the edge of the wishing well.
They sat side by side on the stone rim, their legs swinging gently.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the rustle of wind through the leaves.
After a long while, Cain finally spoke, his voice so quiet it was almost impossible to hear.
“Tifa…
am I really that strange?” There was a faint tremor in his voice.
It was the first time he had ever spoken the deepest fear in his heart aloud.
He could lift barrels heavier than most adults, and he could run faster than anyone else, but he could not tear down the wall called isolation.
Tifa turned and looked at him seriously.
The glow of the setting sun traced his profile in gold, and his long lashes trembled slightly.
She shook her head, her voice firmer than it had ever been.
“No.
You’re not strange at all.” Her gaze dropped to his right hand, the one that never seemed to know where it belonged.
Then she reached out and gently placed her own small hand over it.
His hand was big, warm, and full of strength.
“Your strength isn’t meant for destruction,” Tifa said, slowly and clearly, as if declaring a sacred truth.
“My mom said everyone has a reason for being here.
Cain, your power has to exist to protect something important, right?” Cain jerked his head up, staring at her in surprise.
Protect?
The word was like a beam of light, instantly illuminating the darkest corner of his heart.
He had never thought of it that way.
He had always seen his strength as something abnormal, a curse that only caused trouble.
But Tifa’s words gave it a completely new meaning, something bright and shining.
“Protect…” he murmured, repeating the word to himself as though something inside him were beginning to melt.
“Exactly!” Tifa nodded hard, her smile as radiant as the sunset.
“Like if bad people ever try to bully me, you can use that hand to protect me!
And if the village is ever in danger, you can protect everyone too!
Just like a hero in a story!” Looking into Tifa’s clear eyes, so full of trust, Cain felt his heart fill with a warm emotion he had never known before.
So he was not a monster.
In Tifa’s eyes, he could be a hero.
He turned his hand and clasped hers.
The right hand he had once thought of as cursed was, for the first time, carrying a firm promise.
“Yeah!” he said, nodding hard.
His voice no longer trembled, it was filled with a determination he had never felt before.
“I promise, Tifa.
I’ll get stronger, strong enough to protect you, to protect everyone!” The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the stonework around the wishing well, weaving them together.
Far away on Mt.
Nibel, the warning lights of the mako reactor began to blink like an ominous red star.
But neither child noticed.
In their world, there was only their promise and the way their hands remained tightly clasped.
Cain was Nibelheim’s strongman, the monster people whispered about.
But from this day on, in Tifa Lockhart’s heart, he was her hero.
And for Cain, that was enough.
Tifa was his whole world, the one light he would give everything to protect.