Since making that vow by the wishing well, Cain’s life seemed to have found a clear direction.
He stopped deliberately avoiding his strength and began trying to control it instead.
He helped the adults in the village with even more heavy work, from hauling cargo to repairing fences, always careful, always trying to keep his strength at exactly the right level.
The villagers’ attitude toward him did not change overnight, but their open fear did lessen.
In its place came a kind of acceptance mixed with surprise and practicality.
And Tifa became his best calibrator.
“Cain, a little lighter…
Yeah, just like that!” In the backyard of the village tavern, Tifa was directing Cain to place a cherry on top of a cake she had carefully made using only one finger.
For Cain, who could easily lift an oak barrel, this was harder than carrying a hundred of them.
His fingertip trembled slightly, fine beads of sweat covering his forehead, his concentration so intense it looked like he was performing delicate surgery.
When the cherry settled perfectly into the cream without ruining the shape of the cake, Tifa clapped happily.
“That’s amazing!
Cain, you’re getting better and better!” Cain let out a long breath, a proud smile spreading across his face.
This feeling of being acknowledged warmed him more than any praise ever could.
But peaceful days never lasted long.
A sudden tragedy struck Nibelheim like a boulder crashing into a still lake.
Tifa’s mother, Mrs.
Lockhart, fell ill.
At first it was only coughing and fever, but her condition worsened quickly.
The village doctor could do nothing, forced to watch helplessly as her life slowly faded away.
Every day, Cain stayed with Tifa, watching her change from a lively, cheerful little girl into someone quieter and quieter.
He wanted to help, wanted to do something, but the strength he had once been proud of felt utterly useless in the face of sickness.
In the end, on a rainy morning, Mrs.
Lockhart passed away.
The sky was gray on the day of the funeral, as if it too mourned the gentle woman’s death.
Tifa wore a black dress.
She did not cry, she only stood there numbly before the gravestone, her small figure looking painfully alone.
Cain stood not far away, his heart twisting like a knife had been driven into it.
He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he did not know what to say.
In the face of death, every word felt weak and empty.
After the funeral, Tifa disappeared.
Mr.
Lockhart was frantic, and the villagers spread out to search for her.
A powerful sense of dread rose in Cain’s chest, and he almost immediately thought of one place, Mt.
Nibel.
He remembered Tifa once saying she had heard from the village elders that after death, souls crossed the mountain and went to a place called the Voice of the Planet.
“Tifa must be trying to find her mother.” The thought turned his blood cold.
Without a second of hesitation, he spun around and ran for Mt.
Nibel.
He tore through the familiar village paths, crossed the murmuring stream, and plunged onto the rough trail leading up the mountain.
The path was slick and dangerous, but he did not care.
The panic in his heart drove him faster and faster.
By the time he reached the abandoned suspension bridge halfway up the mountain, he saw the familiar figure he had feared he would find.
Tifa stood in the middle of the swaying old bridge, staring through the drifting mist at the far side, as if just a few more steps would bring her face to face with the mother she missed so badly.
“Tifa!” Cain shouted, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat.
Hearing him, Tifa turned.
When she saw it was Cain, confusion flickered across her face.
“Cain…
I…
I’m going to find Mom…” “There’s nothing there!
Come back!
It’s too dangerous!” Cain shouted anxiously.
He could hear the wooden planks under her feet creaking under the strain.
“No!
Mom is on the other side of the mountain!
I can feel it!” Tifa cried, emotion rising in her voice as she stubbornly took another step forward.
The moment that step landed, disaster struck.
One of the ropes supporting the bridge, already rotten from years of neglect, finally gave way.
It snapped with a sharp crack.
The whole bridge lurched violently to one side.
Tifa let out a scream as her body lost balance and dropped toward the bottomless cliff.
“Tifa!!!” Cain’s pupils contracted violently.
In that instant, time seemed to slow to a crawl.
He saw Tifa’s falling body.
He saw the fear flash through her eyes.
He saw her small hand reaching desperately into empty air.
Protect her!
That vow buried deep in his heart became pure instinct.
His body reacted faster than his mind.
His legs exploded with force, cracking the ground beneath him as he launched himself off the cliff like an arrow loosed from a bow, diving toward where Tifa was falling.
In midair, he thrust out his right arm.
A scorching, violent force surged from his right shoulder through his entire arm.
Blue light burst from beneath his skin, forming strange patterns, as if some ancient rune sleeping in his flesh had awakened.
Wrapped in that blue glow, his right hand seemed to grow firmer, harder, almost taking on a faintly inhuman shape.
I’ve got you!
He roared the words in his heart.
At the last possible second, just before they would have plunged into the ravine below, he caught Tifa’s hand.
The arm wrapped in blue light erupted with shocking strength, forcibly stopping their fall.
But the immense impact still sent them smashing hard into the cliff face.
Cain twisted his body to shield Tifa.
His back slammed into the rock with brutal force, and blinding pain tore through him, nearly knocking him unconscious.
But he still held onto her with everything he had, his other hand clawing frantically against the rock face for anything that could slow them down.
At last, the two of them tumbled onto a gentler slope and came to a stop.
Cain felt like his whole body had been torn apart, especially his back and the arm that had unleashed that power.
Both hurt so badly they were almost numb.
He struggled to look down at Tifa in his arms.
Her eyes were closed.
She had already passed out.
A terrible wound on her forehead was still bleeding steadily.
“Tifa…
Tifa!” He called to her desperately, but the girl in his arms gave no response.
Fear, fear unlike anything he had ever known, seized his heart.
He had saved her, but he did not know how badly she was hurt.
He did not know whether she would…
He could not bear to finish the thought.
Using the last of his strength, he lifted Tifa into his arms and began the long, agonizing walk back down the mountain.
Every step sent tearing pain through the wounds on his back, but he ignored it.
He only knew one thing, he had to get Tifa home.
He had to get her treatment.
When he appeared at the entrance to the village, covered in blood and carrying an unconscious Tifa, everyone who saw him froze in shock.
The next few days were endless torment for Cain.
Tifa never woke up.
Her father brought in the best doctor he could find, but the situation still looked grim.
Cain himself had been badly injured, yet he refused to rest.
Every day, he stood outside Tifa’s house like a silent statue.
The villagers started whispering again.
This time, it was no longer just monster.
Now the word was something more complicated, ill omen.
They said it was Cain’s bad luck, his curse, that had caused all of this.
Cain did not argue.
He simply endured it in silence.
He knew that if he had been stronger, if he had stopped Tifa sooner, maybe none of this would have happened.
A week later, late one night, Tifa finally woke up.
When Cain heard the news, he stumbled to her bedside as fast as he could.
What he found was Tifa lying there with heavy bandages wrapped around her head, her eyes hollow and distant.
She looked at him, but there was none of the closeness she once had for him, only blank confusion and distance.
She…
did not remember.
The doctor said the severe trauma to her head had caused her to lose most of her memory, especially everything related to her mother’s death and the fall from the cliff.
Cain felt his heart sink into the abyss.
That night, he went alone to the wishing well in the center of town.
This was where they had made their vow.
It was the proof of their friendship.
The water in the well reflected the cold moonlight, and it reflected his lonely figure too.
He raised his right hand, the same arm that had burst with blue light that day.
It looked normal again now, but the faint stab of pain still running through it reminded him that everything had really happened.
He had saved her, but he had also made her suffer terribly.
He had even taken away precious memories she could never recover.
“Not enough…
Still nowhere near enough…” he murmured to the water.
His strength was still far too weak.
His strength had not been enough to stop tragedy.
His protection had been clumsy and violent.
He lifted his head and looked toward Mt.
Nibel in the darkness.
On the other side of that mountain lay a wider world.
He had heard of a company out there called Shinra, and of the strongest warriors they commanded, SOLDIER.
They were said to be capable of anything.
They were true heroes.
A thought began to take root inside him and spread like wildfire.
He had to leave.
He had to find true strength, the kind of strength that could control everything, the kind of strength that could perfectly protect the people he wanted to protect.
He never wanted to see Tifa hurt again.
He never wanted to see that pain and confusion in her eyes again.
“Tifa…” He spoke toward the well as if making a new vow to the sleeping girl.
“Wait for me.
I’ll come back.
Next time, I’ll become the real hero you wanted me to be.
A hero…
who can protect everything.” After saying that, he looked one last time toward Tifa’s window.
The light there was still on.
Then he turned away without hesitation and vanished into the night of Nibelheim.
The vow by the well had changed, from protect you to leave so I can protect you better.
The boy set out on a journey in search of power, never knowing that the road ahead would lead him into an abyss of cruel fate.
What he left behind was a girl who had lost her memories, and a promise, I’ll be back soon, that he would never be able to keep.