The figure by the bonfire- Well, a figure of a kind. Six more arms than she might have expected but fewer than some of the worst kinds of Hollows she encountered. He was between her and her current salvation. Stoke the flame and she would tie herself to this flame too. Assuming he did not strike her down first. The figure whistled to himself as he laboured on something, the bulk of his body blocking her view. Could she creep by? Ignite the flame and risk him striking her? If she was fast enough she would at least come back here rather than a mile or two down the road. Wherever here was in relation to there- The endless cycle of death, rebirth, of liquid fire and burning embers, of a world familiar and alien had taken its toll on her mental geography. How long ago was the last bonfire?
The fire. It smoldered. He was not hostile. Or at least he did not seem hostile. Other creatures, other figures, charred and damaged, or armored beside fires had choked the heat out of the essential sources of warmth. This fire while subdued still burned as the others did when she happened upon them. She could do this. Unless this was another trick? An exception to the rules, the governing structure of this world - unstated, conjectured from stray observations and curious malformed comments from the few other residents of the world capable of speech.
The figure held something up and her heart skipped a beat. He was holding a wide sword, the blade nicked, tarnished and rusted though the edge was almost as bright and sharp as she remembered. Two circular holes were cut into the blade high near the hilt. A familiar weapon. His weapon. Aeris clambered up onto the plateau, loose stones clattering as she moved. The figure move languidly, unhurried, a glance over his shoulder and then an immediate re-focus on his task. Something to do with the Buster Sword.
Aeris grasped her staff in both hands and moved forward, waiting for his first movement. He could still attack; use her for an easy kill. She could not be worth much, but to some there was a sadistic pleasure in cutting down anything they found. Left or right-handed? Duck left of right when he moved? Practice and tireless repetition leant her more skill with her weapon than she ever had cause to develop in Midgar, but it was never enough for the next encounter - not truly. Always a moment of luck, a frantic strike, a-
“Stop hovering and rest,” the figure said, holding the sword up again, shifting the blade this way and that. Studying the edge. “I am not hollow.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And by the looks of things missy, neither are you.” He appraised her for another moment. “Closer than is comfortable however.” Another arm moved and delved into a pocket, a glowing ember tossed from a calloused hand to land beside her feet. "My name is Gilgamesh."
How long since her last? Too long to count – tempting to save this, but- Aeris snatched it up and pressed it against her chest, the chill dissipating well in advance of the proximity to the fire. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quiet from lack of use. "I'm Aeris." The figure nodded, barely paying her any mind as he returned his focus to the sword. Aeris circled the fire, still unwilling to quite trust him and kept the flames between them. The man was sharpening the sword, making the still sharp edge deadlier. And he had more weapons; a whole array lay beside him. Curious oddities; wide blades with what looked like the grip of a handgun; a straight sword with a jewel encrusted hilt- A long, narrow, curved blade; it looked- No. “Where did you get that?” She pointed to his work in progress.
Gilgamesh glanced at her and back down to the Buster Sword. “Found it.”
“Where?”
He looked at her puzzled. “Near the ruins of a city. Terrible state in which to leave something so powerful.” His hand tightened on the hilt. “Mine now; I’ve been searching for this one for a long time.”
“Searching for it? Wait, how long have you been looking for it?” Aeris still could not quite relax.
“Not sure anymore,” Gilgamesh said as he scratched his head with one of his six spare hands. “Time is all confused these days. Like places- But I saw this once when it was shiny and new – in the hands of another. Not sure why he left it behind, but…” He grinned. “Wanted it then, got it now.”
“The owner,”Aeris settled on the opposite side of the fire, trying not to stare at the Buster Sword or the thin blade. “Do you know where he is?”
The man shook his head. “Would have fought him if I knew. Regretted passing up the first opportunity. Would have taken the sword as my prize.” He cocked his head to one side. “Reckon he must have left it there. A tribute maybe?” He glanced between her and the sword. “You knew the owner?”
“I knew someone who used that sword. Once. He had blond hair and blue eyes. And secrets – a world of secrets. But that was…” Aeris waved her hand vaguely. “Like you said; time is confused these days. But I remember how it used to look.”
“Shiny. Sharp.” Gilgamesh grinned. He studied the blade for another moment, peering closer at the edge. A sigh. “I may not have the skill to repair this. But I know of one who might-“ He stared towards the sky. “ A long way, but-“ He looked at her again. “Unless you wish to fight for it?”
Another fight. And one she might win – eventually of course; success built atop a succession of failures. Might. No. What good would Cloud’s sword do her now? She shook her head. “I would think he would prefer to see it used.”
Gilgamesh nodded slowly. “Then I will take my leave.” He plucked each of the swords from the ground, sliding them into a harness of sheaths he slung over one shoulder. The thin blade – no, the Masamune – remained on the ground. Gilgamesh hefted the Buster Sword in his right hand. “You gave me information freely. I will not forget this.” He tossed something towards Aeris. Angular, and glowing white. Faintly warm to the touch. “If you need my help, you may call for my aid. Use the soapstone.”
Aeris clutched the stone. “Thank you.” An ally for the struggles ahead.
Gilgamesh glanced at the Masamune for a longer moment. “Take this if you wish; I have a new sword. Hasta-la bye-bye!” He grinned at her and reached out to the flames, his body evaporating to ash in a moment. The Masamune remained on the ground beside it’s scabbard. She waited a moment and then another, Gilgamesh did not return to the fire. Aeris circled the fire. The sword was heavy; heavier than she expected. Ridiculously long. A blade that had touched her blood, touched Tifa’s. But like the Buster Sword, somehow separated from the owner she expected. How had Gilgamesh could by this blade too?
No matter, the Masamune was now hers, though she knew little enough of sword-fighting. But like anything else in this limbo, it would come over time and repeated attempts to use it. She would learn how to wield the sword.