(I want to let Readers know that in Final Fantasy VII Remake, and based on what I've checked online, Johnny and Aerith can be the same age (both are 22 years old when ff7 remake started). However, in this story, they are both 13 years old.)
(FF7 AERITH THEME MUSIC PLAYING)
The girl heard the heavy thud of Johnny's boots on the wooden floor. Slowly, she straightened her back and turned around.
She wore a simple light-colored dress—common attire for slum children. Yet, somehow, the dust and grime of Sector 5 seemed hesitant to cling to her.
Her skin was pale yet flushed with life, a sharp contrast to the gray, industrial world surrounding them. In a place where faces were hardened, exhausted, and slick with oil, her features possessed an unreasonable softness. Her jawline was delicate, her nose small and straight, and her lips curved into a thin, sincere smile. Her long brown hair cascaded gently, partially tied back with a distinctive light green ribbon. Her emerald eyes were crystal clear, seemingly reflecting the sunlight piercing through the church roof.
When their gazes met, time seemed to freeze for Johnny.
In his past life, Guts had seen beautiful women in palaces and fierce women on the battlefield. As for Casca, her beauty had been that of a war commander: wild, bathed in sweat and blood—a beauty born of the resilience to survive hell.
However, the girl before him possessed an aura that was entirely different. She didn't look like an arrogant noble, nor a hardened soldier. She looked... pure. Like the lilies surrounding her, blooming defiantly even while the world outside was full of poison.
Suddenly, Johnny felt a stinging heat rush rapidly from his neck to his ears.
His heart, usually steady even when facing hundreds of soldiers, now raced with no clear rhythm. His right hand, calloused from gripping iron swords, awkwardly squeezed the strap of his backpack. His feet were glued to the floor.
The Black Swordsman was blushing.
Johnny's face turned a deep shade of crimson, clashing violently with his spiky red hair and his usual fierce expression. He wanted to look away, but his eyes were locked onto her.
'Damn it...' Johnny thought in panic. 'Why is my face burning? Is this enemy magic? No... she's just... smiling.'
Aerith tilted her head slightly, studying the boy with the giant sword on his back. Surprise registered on her face for a moment, but then a playful smile touched her lips as she noticed the flush on Johnny's cheeks.
"Hellooo," Aerith greeted. Her voice was soft and crisp, echoing beautifully in the wooden chamber. "You finally made it."
At that same moment, the sensation of the Lifestream exploded between them. It wasn't a destructive blast, but an invisible, magnetic wave.
For Aerith, the noisy voices of the planet's spirits that usually crowded her mind suddenly fell silent, as if respecting the presence of Johnny's dense, powerful soul.
For Johnny, the dark shadows of the Eclipse and the screaming memories of the past that always lurked in the corners of his mind were suddenly driven back by the warm light radiating from her existence.
They both stood silent, feeling the strange gravitational pull of their souls. It was as if two puzzle pieces from different universes had just found their match.
Aerith stepped forward, lightly hopping over a row of flowers, and stopped right in front of Johnny. She leaned her face in slightly, staring at the flustered boy.
"Your face is all red, Mr. Big Sword," Aerith teased, giggling softly. "Is the air too hot for you? Or... are you surprised to see a flower girl like me?"
Johnny stammered, his tongue tied. His courage—the same courage that had slaughtered the Blugu, Cripshays, and monsters earlier that morning—evaporated into thin air.
"I-I... n-no," Johnny answered stiffly, his eyes darting wildly to look anywhere else—at the floor, at the leaking roof, anywhere but those green eyes. "I'm just... tired from the long walk. That's all."
Aerith laughed again, a sound that made Johnny's chest flutter strangely. She then extended her clean, petite hand.
"My name is Aerith," she said warmly. "Aerith Gainsborough."
Johnny took a deep breath, trying to scrape together the remnants of his dignity as a former raid commander. He wiped his sweaty palm against his cargo pants, then hesitatingly accepted the girl's hand.
"Johnny," he replied softly.
As their skin touched, the wind rustled gently inside the church, scattering yellow petals around them. The bond had been forged.