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Final Fantasy 7. Tifa Lockhart: Journey to Midgar.	By : Nickamano Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 7306 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 7 is created and owned by Squaresoft, now Square-Enix. Nothing here is owned by me. It was created for entertainment purposes, and I am not profiting financially from the creation and online presentation of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
11. Costa Del Sol.
The Chocobo ran East right up to the continent’s Northern coastline and then expertly traversed the grassy clifftops following the smooth Easterly curve. At one point the large bird launched itself off the cliff as the land dipped low, maybe twenty feet above sea level. It flapped its wings and then, threw them out wide to slow and control its descent. Tifa feeling like she had left her stomach behind somewhere during the sudden descent. However, they landed on a beautiful golden sandy beach and, without missing a stride, the Chocobo zipped along, splashing ocean spray gloriously in its wake. It seemed to be enjoying itself tremendously and it had even Tifa laughing out-loud as she was splashed every now and then by kicked-up sea spray and droplets of the ocean itself. Brought on by the exhilaration of the speed, the refreshing salty ocean breeze, the wind whipping her long glossy brown hair out behind her, for Tifa, life felt suddenly glorious.

The beach made a sudden acute turn, like the tip of a finger, turning abruptly South and before Tifa knew it they were off the beach, back on the prairie. Sand and grass intermingled under the Chocobo’s feet and then another sudden drop and they were back on the sand again, racing along another beach, the Chocobo ‘wark’-ing loudly again and again. To Tifa the giant bird seemed to be having the time of its life.

And then everything came abruptly to an almost tumbling halt. The Chocobo skidded to a dead stop, its wide claws cutting deep furrows in the sand and almost tossing Tifa straight over its back. Confused, she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on and yet seeing nothing. She started to wonder if it was just the end of their trip as far as the Chocobo was concerned.

A little anxious, as she wasn’t sure where they were or where Costa Del Sol was in relation to her, Tifa shifted her weight and started to lift a long, supple leg but as if to keep her in place, the animal leapt suddenly backward, beating its little wings to aid in elevation. They came down where the grass ended and the beach began, a good twenty feet away. And then, suddenly from beneath the sand something erupted, right where the avian had previously been standing.

It was school of four Beach plugs, burrowing upward from beneath the beach into the open air and rearing up with a gurgling screech, their long spiny tails flicking threateningly.

Tifa put her hands onto the Chocobo’s broad shoulders and lifted her legs up and over, whipping herself into a momentary handstand before pushing off. She launched herself up and backward, away from the Chocobo, flipping herself in an athletic mid-air tumble to land lightly on her feet.

The Chocobo skipped backward a few more paces, ‘wark’-ing at Tifa. Keeping one eye on the approaching menace, she offered it a quick grin and tossed it another Reagan green, which it caught right out of the air in its beak.

“Thank you.” She said. “You should get back to your family now.”

The avian, crunching the long-leafed green in its huge, powerful beak, returned Tifa’s gratitude with a polite bow of its large yellow head and then whipped around and galloped away; not back the way it had come but due West towards some distant hills. Maybe that was a safer route back? Tifa thought, before turning around to face down the hissing, gurgling four-strong force of Beach plugs.

The strange, greenish-brown human-sized crustaceans had rounded bodies, hard shell-like flanks and long stinging triple-tails. Biologists couldn’t decide if they were more closely related to jellyfish or squid, they seemed to have traits of both. Predatorily, they tended to use a distraction assault, one of them would attack head on while the others would simultaneously try to dart around their prey’s flanks, attacking with their stinging tails and then getting close enough to bite.

Tifa didn’t give them a chance, using her speed and dexterity, she launched herself forward, keeping on the balls of her feet.

One of them leapt up at her, using its three tentacle tails like legs, trying to latch its sharp spiny teeth onto her flesh. She side-stepped it completely and slammed down with a hammer-fist strike onto one of the others, splintering its carapace and exposing it to the heat of the sun. Its exposed soft inner organs started to bake at once and it died almost instantly, shrivelling up to a small piece of mangled pulp. The standing Beach plug whipped around and precariously lashed out with one of its tails but Tifa pirouetted out of range and went for another on the back row. This time she chose to use a low axe-kick, shattering another’s carapace and half burying the dying creature in the sand.

She skipped backwards then reversed course, leaping forward again to close the space and taking the walking Beach plug by surprise, a downward elbow hammered it into the ground and then it was finished off with a carapace-smashing follow-up punch. Immediately, she wheeled around in time to catch the approach of the last of the amphibious animals. It lashed out at her with its stinger tentacles and they encircled one hand and wrist tightly but the armoured Leather Glove protected her from the sting. In retaliation, she grabbed the base of the triple-tail in one hand and its carapace in her other and ripped them apart. Crushing the carapace in her grip as she pulled, the thing died half-shredded and half-cooked by the exposure to the sun.

Tifa dropped it onto the beach with the rest of its school and headed inland, having barely broken a sweat.

East was the obvious direction to take and it proved accurate as after only a half hour’s wandering, she caught the sound of music on the wind. And bristling now with confidence, she hurried onwards across the grass. Dropping down a low cliff in the steppes, she followed a shallow rise to the peak and then stopped and glanced down at the tiny resort town before her, with its orange terracotta rooftiles, sun-bleached or white-washed walls and the golden-stone and brown-stone blocks that formed the archway/bridge entrance to Costa Del Sol.

The bricks of the entryway road, though it was more like a walkway really, were an eye -squinting sun-bleached yellow, and she strolled down under the wide archway, crossing its threshold into the small joyfully designed town.

Standing a step beyond the archway Tifa looked about with puzzlement. There didn’t seem to be anyone around at all. There was a large inn on her immediate left, beyond the steps that lead up to the bridge atop the archway. The same archway was the main thoroughfare to the docks and the harbour to the East of the town. The inn seemed to be where the fun and fast-paced musical melody was coming from. That, she decided, should be her first ‘port of call’. Forgiving herself the bad pun, she wandered up the sun-baked steps and strolled into the air-conditioned and surprisingly dark interior.

Inside the inn it was a sickly-merry façade of warmth and fun. Dark stained wooden panels made up the walls, floor and ceiling. Orange and yellow neon lighting and advertisements, as well as a huge jukebox to the right of the entryway added glaring electric colour. The darkness of the wood made everything feel cave-like, while the neon threw hazy garish colours in all directions. There were fake palm trees and cacti, a number of surfboards pinned to the walls, and a large wall-mounted painting of a white-sand beach with blue sky and palm trees. However, there were no people. No patrons, no staff, nothing. And the music was at full blast, practically deafening, the same fun-yet-repetitive tune playing on and on.

She stepped back out into the heat of the blazing sun, shielding her eyes as she walked into the middle of the town square and looked around. There was a football sitting there abandoned and a couple of odd, randomly placed market stalls dotted around, an outdoor restaurant to her right across the far side of the square and another inn barely fifty feet away to the left. And yet, no patrons, no staff, no one.

There was more music, tinny and echoing and half sabotaged by the noise of the crashing waves from the beach, which she could hear ahead of her down a flight of golden stone steps on the opposite side of the square. And then she saw movement on the steps, the bob of a head and then another, one head leaning in toward the other. And then someone stood up on the steps and stretched, glanced around, though not in Tifa’s direction.

Then he turned around and spotted her after all, took a look over at the outdoor market stall near the inn and then hurried up the steps and over to where Tifa was standing, looking confused.

“Help you miss?” He asked her half polite, half suspicious. “You want to buy something? That’s my stall, right there.”

He used an extended arm to point out the stall and raised eyebrows in expectant invitation. It was all unspoken, just the arm and eyebrows. Tifa didn’t really need anything, just a few answers but she allowed herself to be escorted over all the same. She quickly looked over the man who was in his forties maybe, round all over, though with a very noticeable rotund and on-display belly. His greying hair had been blonde once though still showed a hint of the colour of straw. He was wearing only some baggy khaki shorts and flipflops. His skin was gleaming and bronzed. Twenty years ago, he might have been fit and handsome, but that time was past.

“Erm, where is everyone? This place is just about deserted.”
“Oh, down on the beach. Everyone. To a person. It’s our annual Grand Bikini Contest, you see. Very, very popular around here, people come for miles to watch and to take part. It always brings the whole place to a complete standstill.”
“I’m looking for someone. Zangan? Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

The man just looked frustrated that she wasn’t looking over his wares and he kept one eye on the steps leading to the beach, as though she was keeping him from the party, or whatever it was. Either way he didn’t answer her.

“Maybe I could just wander down there and ask around?”
“You don’t understand. Everyone’s here for the contest. No one will answer you. No one will even look in your direction. At least, not dressed the way you are.”

Tifa gave him a quizzical, suspicious look. The man rolled his eyes in response.

“It’s Bikinis people have come to see, beautiful women in beautiful bikinis.” He said slowly and carefully as though speaking to a child. “If you aren’t a beautiful woman in a beautiful bikini, you’re just a Bite-bug buzzing around making annoying distracting noises, if you’ll forgive the comparison.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating.” Tifa said.
“Go down there and ask you questions if you don’t believe me.” He shrugged.
“I’ll tell you what. You’re certainly a very beautiful young woman yourself.” He carried on, looking Tifa up and down. “And there’s no age limit so I’ll agree to wait here for five minutes. And when you realise you need a bikini before anyone will pay you the slightest bit of attention, I’ll be right here to sell you one. Only five minutes mind you! Not a second longer!”

The extended arm came out again, directing Tifa to the yellow stone steps and the beach and the people beyond it. Tifa Shrugged and headed for the steps… And came back three minutes later.

“No one will even look at me!” She gasped, actually as hurt as she was shocked.
“Told you!”
“That’s never happened to me before.” She groaned to herself.

Her complaint though murmured, was loud enough for the man to hear. He just shrugged and stared at her expectantly.

“This is ridiculous! All I want is to ask a couple of questions and buy a ticket for the ocean ferry.”
“Ferry’s not running until tomorrow. On account of the contest. Even the Captain and First Officer are down on the beach. Captain’s taking part!”

The extended arm once again swept across the strips of colourful fabrics on display.

“Anything specific catching your eye?”

Despite her resentment and incredulity, she found herself gazing over the selection of skimpy items. She’d never been to a beach before and so had never worn anything like this before. It was underwear to her, though she wasn’t against it in principle and her three minutes down on the beach had revealed everyone else was dressed the same way. She had looked out of place and overdressed amongst them.

It was starting to look like she had no choice. Of course, she could just book a room and wait until tomorrow. After all the time walking and riding on Chocobo, all the nights sleeping under the stars, in rocky caves or on the bare earth; she was desperate for a hot soothing bath and a soft comfortable bed. Then again, she had no doubts the inn keepers would be down on the beach and their inns would either be booked solid or be closed for the duration. She looked again over the stall holder’s wares.

“What does the winner get anyway?” She asked.
“Well, there’s no cash prize, but you get free spa treatment, surf lessons, a choice of pampering sessions and, of course, the prestige of being named ‘Bikini Princess’ for the next twelve months. You get your name engraved into the Solar Chalice, too… Oh, and you get to make a wish. And if the Mayor of Costa Del Sol is able to grant it, if it’s within his municipal ability… And budget, he’ll grant it for you.”
“Wow.” Tifa said, not terribly impressed. “Any other towns around here with an inn or a hotel?”
“Gold Saucer?” He shrugged. “There’s nowhere nearer. Can we hurry this up? I’m missing the festivities.”
“Fine.” Tifa huffed. “This one.”
“No, no, no.” He said, rolling his eyes. “That’ll be way too big for you.”

He, angled his head and looked her over slowly and carefully with an appraising eye.

“You’re only little aren’t you, other than in the one particular area…You’re what, a… 92-60-88?”
“I don’t know if that’s creepy or impressive…” She grumbled by way of confirmation.
“Its impressive.” He said with a defensive glower. “Now then… I’d say G-cup…”
“Now you’re going too far!” Tifa said, increasingly disgruntled and uncomfortable.

Ignoring the protest, the man’s fingertips slithered back and forth over the colourful fabric items.

“…This… No…” His fingers paused over one item in day-glow green and orange. Then moved on. “…This one, I think.”

With a smile, he plucked out a little one-piece garment in sapphire blue and crystalline white and handed it to her. It was ludicrous, little more than a scrap of elastic. Two loops that came together at a single point.

“This is a sling or slingshot style. Very popular at the moment. I think it’ll suit you magnificently.”

His casual suggestion barely made it into Tifa’s attention while she took the tiny, slightly shrivelled looking item from his glistening, tanned hand. His words didn’t really sink in as she stared aghast with increasingly enlarging eyes at the so-called garment.

“I am not wearing that!” She replied, practically stamping her foot. “Haven’t you got anything a bit more… Substantial?”
“It’s a bikini sweetie. It isn’t supposed to be substantial. You’d better get a move on, the stage parade will be starting soon, and I ain’t missing it!”

He was already shuffling out from behind the stall, his feet taking him back to the yellow stone steps, even while his head and his attention were still on Tifa.

“You can get changed in the inn.” He said nodding at the whitewashed two-storey building behind his stall. “There’s a bathroom, last door on the left…”
“…And you can pay for it later, but if you win it’s on the house, as long as you plug my stall!” He threw back at her as he departed for the beach.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this...”

Five minutes later Tifa popped her head out from the entrance to the inn, hiding her body behind the door.

“This is obscene! Don’t you at least have a wrap or something?” She called.

Of course, there was no one in sight and she knew there would be no bringing him back to his stall. Tifa cursed to herself.

“I can’t go out like this… Can I…?” She mumbled, as embarrassed as she was exasperated.
“I could always set fire to one of the buildings, that would bring them running, surely…”

There came muffed, tinny, unidentifiable voice-over from the beach, followed by a great wave of yelling, whistles and applause that cut through the muffled tinny music.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Tifa grumbled to herself.

She huffed, deferred, reassessed and then tossed away her indecision, huffed one last time and then stormed barefoot and practically naked down the inn’s steps, across the yellow stone square and down the yellow stone steps to the soft, warm sand of the beachfront.

Tifa was acutely aware of the tightness of the two-inch wide elastic straps that pressed down firmly against her full bosom. The two-inches doubled to four as they met the curves of her breasts, though still only just covering her nipples and areolae, and then quickly thinned back down to two-inches again immediately below her jutting opulence. It felt strange, tight and cinching at the tops of her shoulders and the front curves of her breasts, and then not touching her at all until it met the firm curve of her pubic mound at the front and delved tight into the cleavage of her ass cheeks at the back. It also squashed and hugged the delicate lips of her vulva but at least they were covered and there was no chafing or biting, at least not yet.

She grew immediately and acutely aware of eyes locking onto her as she slipped between the assembled groups of people and made her way toward the increasing din of the tinny loudspeaker and the elevated wooden stage. There were more and more eyes on her, and gasps and whispers. And also a few too many desire-ridden groans, appreciative hums, low colourful curses of impressed-ness and the like, which brought a delicate flush to her cheeks and a silent oath that if any one tried to put their hands on her she would lose it and crush them.

She did hear a couple of critical sentiments muttered, more from the female half of the gathered audience, about her being pale, or having an uneven tan. And it occurred to her that her abdomen, arms and legs would be more tanned than the rest of her. Though, it being winter, she didn’t have much of a tan at all. There was also one comment about her unfeminine level of muscle tone. However, that comment was shot down but a half dozen defenders. She didn’t care, either way, about how she looked. she just wanted to get this over with.

She started to question random people about Zangan but again no one would respond. She was just told to get up onto the stage and be quick about it. And despite herself, Tifa found herself hurrying to the wooden steps that led up onto the stage where she could now see at least two dozen other attractive women from early teens right up to early forties, in a variety of bikini styles and colours, most of them with an array of tans from a kind of varnished pine, to copper to a deep mahogany. There were of course, maybe a third of the bikini clad women with naturally dark complexions that were deeper shades than the darkest of the tanned girls and also two girls that were from the far western continent of Wutai.

As Tifa got up onto the stage, she got a couple of appraising looks from the other contestants, a couple of jealous annoyed looks and a couple of welcoming smiles and waves to come closer toward the middle of the stage.

And then the Master of Ceremonies, who Tifa assumed would probably be the Mayor, became distracted by the movement in his peripheral vision, turned, and caught sight of Tifa. His eyes bulged wide, he stammered over the microphone, and then to everyone’s shock, dismay, elation, and to most of the other girls on the stage, disgust. He sang out:
“And we have a winner!”

He hurried over, grabbed Tifa by the upper arm, who seemed to have forgotten about her vow to knock out anyone who put their hands on her, and dragged her over to the transparent podium.

“What’s your name beautiful young lady?” He sang.
“Erm… Tifa, Tifa Lockhart...”
“Congratulations! You are the undisputed victor of this year’s Solar Chalice Bikini Princess of ’05. Please, come up here and say a few words to your breathless, captivated audience.”

He backed away a couple of steps and Tifa hesitantly took to the transparent podium. The whistles, whooping and applause were momentarily overwhelming, and she found herself smiling, embarrassed and yet warmed by the sudden adulation of the crowd. After a minute or two of the appreciative din, the Master of Ceremonies leaned in toward the microphone to calm the crowd and beg them to “let our stunning young winner speak.”

“Erm, thank you. Thank you all. It’s an honour… Erm, I’m actually here for some help, I’m looking for a man…”

She was drowned out by a sudden escalation of the previous appreciative din, whistling whooping and hollering, mixed in with laughter. And she had to give them another moment before carrying on. She gave a nervous laugh.

“Erm, a specific man… A martial arts teacher in his fifties, called Zangan. I’m sure some of you will have heard of him, he is quite famous, I believe. If anyone who knows him or has any news about him could you please come and find me at the inn on the far side of the square, I’ll be very grateful.”

The appreciative whooping, hollering and whistling took up again with a whole new dimension of passion, though it had also taken up a rather more raucous degree as well, that had Tifa momentarily on the back foot. She leaned into the microphone one more time to mutter a final half-hearted “Thank you.”

And then she stepped back and looked to the Master of Ceremonies, who smoothly took over again and continued with the stage performances, bringing forward the second and third place runners up, and then the honourable mentions.

Tifa stood around for a couple of minutes but then hopped back down to the beach and tried her best to skirt around the edge of the crowds, intending to get back to the inn and change back into her own clothes as quickly as she could.

However, people were surprisingly engaged with the ceremony, and everyone wanted to congratulate the lucky winner with chaste kisses on the cheek and more than a few hugs. The kisses were okay, people would lean in lips first, but the hugs she was quickly suspicious of. More than once a fist would be clenched in preparation for when she felt a hand on her bottom or coming up to caress one of her breasts, or squeeze her unnecessarily tightly. However, each time she was surprised and gratified by the lack of illicit contact, the hugs by both men and women were both careful and only came into contact with her middle of her back or her shoulder blades and there were no instances of squeezing her body against theirs. They all seemed to be impressively reverent, respectful and warm-hearted towards her.

Except for one tiny old man, sporting a bald head and long, white waxed whiskers, who barely came up to her bosom with his short stature. Unfortunately, it was the same for his eyes and his attention. She found herself in front of him and he was staring at her sling-bikini, and then before she realised, his hand came up and pinched the fabric where it was stretched away from her midriff, directly beneath the underside of a breast. He stroked his fingers up and down along the smooth elasticated fabric.

“Mmm, that’s lovely, that is. Lovely colour and texture. I admire your taste my young beauty, tee hee hee…”

And then his fabric-caressing fingers started to slide further and further up, as he got to within an inch of the exposed undercurves of her large breasts, Tifa’s fist clenched and cocked ready to lay the old pervert out cold, but a couple of the other audience members turned well-wishers got to the old man first and dragged him away, blocking him behind a wall of their own bodies.

“Sorry about him, Miss Lockhart. He’s just a filthy old myopic pervert.” One of them said.
“That’s okay. I’d really like to get changed, though.” She said.
“Oh sure, we understand, c’mon we’ll part the waves for you.”

The group led her through the rest of the throng, a few well-wishers pushing to the fore to offer personal congratulations, and a number of embarrassing yet mildly flattering announcements of how beautiful her face and body were. She did her best to accept the compliments with good grace but she had often felt her attractiveness was due, mainly, to her mother’s genes and not something she had any personal responsibility for. So, saying ‘thank you’ always felt odd to her.

She ascended the yellow stone steps and then hurried over to the inn where she had left her clothes. Fortunately, they were still where she had left them and she hurriedly redressed. Finally, she made her way, feeling much more comfortable, across the square to the first inn, the gaudy-cave, where she found a table, a delicious meal and free drinks until midnight waiting for her.

Young men started to arrive within minutes of Tifa being led to her table, but the stall vendor who had sold her the bikini pushed to the front, shocked that she was back in her normal clothes already and reminding her that she owed him some kind of photo opportunity that he could use to promote his wares. Tifa offered to pay for the bikini instead but he wasn’t to be put off, at least not until a group of four of the young men came forward. They were already put out that their first-in-line audience with the new hottie had been interfered with, and they grabbed him by his arms and legs, whipped him up off his feet and carried him outside, warning him off before hurrying back to Tifa’s table.

Of course, another of the young men in the line had attempted to take advantage of their momentary stepping out of the line; which was now trailing all the way out of the inn, and had declared himself the new front of the queue. He had also already taken the chair opposite Tifa and offered to buy her a drink.

The other four reappeared and, immediately taken aback that they had lost their places at the front of the line, had picked the young man up, chair and all, and thrown him out as well.

Tifa, trying to eat her meal in peace and still thinking about the questions she wanted answering, watched the whole performance with bemusement until finally, she found herself sitting opposite the first of the four young men. She smiled at him politely and asked him about Zangan. He shrugged, saying he’d never heard of the old fella and then proceeded to insult Zangan and Tifa as well, by obstinately asking why she was wasting her time with some old geezer when he was ready and willing to take her on.

She sent him packing and then the next one, laughing at the first, stepped up and took his place. He was more open, admitting straight away that he had never heard of Zangan and asked her out on a date. She politely turned him down. He made a second attempt indicating that he was well off and had good prospects and could make her happy and comfortable if he just gave her a chance. She repeated her refusal, this time through slightly gritted teeth and he shrugged and left.

This performance repeated itself all afternoon, Tifa was approached over a score of times by men of varying ages and degrees of politeness. And two young women, who thought maybe all the men were reading her wrong. Of the total, sixteen were just there to ask her out, three were there for autographs, and only three had ever heard of Zangan. She had the most pleasant conversations with two out of these latter three - the first of which was a long-time acquaintance of the aging martial arts teacher. However, he confessed to neither having seen or heard anything from the man in over a year. The second had reported to having taken Zangan out on his boat to the islands to the south of the Midgar continent but that had been three years earlier and he hadn’t seen him since. Then he had asked Tifa out as well, saying he had a good fishing business that paid well and would happily look after her. Of course, Tifa had politely let him down.

The third was the short, myopic pervert from earlier who assured her that he knew Zangan and had spoken to him only a week earlier. However, when Tifa asked him to describe Zangan, it was obvious he had no clue who he was. Then he offered to show her the time of her life upstairs, and he promised that it would be such a good time that she’d beg for his hand in marriage just so she could enjoy the daily repeat-performances that he promised her would be a guarantee, should she agree to his proposal. She blushed at his crass directness but still let him down gently. He tried again.

“Look, you’ve got tits to die for, honey and I wanna fuck ‘em all night tonight. No wait, hear me out… Then tomorrow I’ll fuck your pussy and the day after that I’ll fuck your sweet ass… The day after that I can guarantee you a sweet one-million Gil modelling deal at the famous ‘Corneo’s Beauty Modelling Agency’, that’s up in Midgar’s Sector Five. Yeah, you heard right, the Capital City! In less than one week you’d be a millionaire living in upmarket Midgar, Sector Five no less! What d’you say? It’s the best offer you’ll hear today and it’s only on the table until sundown…”

Tifa stared at him incredulously. Her patience shot and temper really fraying. She was about to rebuke him a lot more strongly than the previous time when he put a hand up silencing her before the first word came out.

“Of course, you should also know. If you were to turn me down it’d only take one quick PHS call to the Don and I’d make sure you never get so much as a foothold in the modelling business. You’d spend your days waiting tables and getting those tits and that ass felt up by drunken customers from dusk till dawn. All night, every night. Of course, you’d have to allow it because you need the tips, ‘cause your wages will be utter shit. So, three short days of fucking me, taking my big dick in every hole, and then you’ll be set for life, a million Gil and a top modelling career in one of Midgar’s top sectors. So, what d’ya say babe?”
“Okay gramps, I’ve been polite and I’ve listened to your crap. Now, you have five seconds to get out of my sight or you’ll be the first person to be the recipient of my Beat Rush technique. And you should know, the tree I practiced on is just tooth picks now. Imagine what it’ll do to your brittle old bones!”
“Right bitch! Okay. I’ll leave you, but my offer’s still open until sundown if you change your mind. And you really should, you know… But I’ll warn you, after that insult and your threats, if you do come crawling to me for the modelling gig, I won’t go easy on yer, I’ll make you earn it and no mistake.”

And then he got up off the chair and stormed out, muttering to himself. “Goddamn fucking kids, these days offer ‘em a little something in the way of help and they throw it right back in yer face, ungrateful little trollop-slut… Whore… I ought to…”

Tifa stared at him as he stormed away, barely maintaining her own self-control, until he was out of earshot and finally out of sight.

She let out a long calming sigh and then gulped down the last of the tall glass of carbonated sweet-orange-something, with adornments of straw, fruit slices and little paper parasol. It just tasted like watered down treacle to her, and not in a nice spirit-mead way, much more chemical. A huge step away from the natural food and drinks she had grown used to.

She thought about the little old pervert whose afterimage was still making her squeamish, and found herself wondering if that had ever actually worked on any of the previous winners of this ridiculous contest.

Even as she was considering the possibility the waitress came over, gushing and blushing at the same time. And as she cleared the table of its plates and cutlery, Tifa politely thanked her for the meal. It hadn’t been bad, a little spicy for her palette and she could have certainly done a better job with those ingredients than the resident cook, but it filled and soothed her.

She asked the waitress if she happened to know if and when the ocean ferry would be taking bookings for passage to the Midgar continent. The young woman gushed with excitement about Tifa going overseas and that she herself had once dreamed of going travelling, exploring the delights of Midgar but it wasn’t to be and now she was stuck here waiting tables.

Tifa dismissed a momentary idle wondering if this waitress had herself fallen victim to the old pervert, maybe even rebuked him and was now suffering the consequence. She didn’t bother asking. However, the young woman was overly chatty and somehow acted as if she was starstruck or something. And Tifa had to ask her question about booking passage on the ferry a second time before she got the answer:

The Captain and First Officer would be enjoying themselves on the beach but the ocean ferry was scheduled to depart at midnight and that she would be able to book passage at the booth at the harbour whenever she wanted to, now that the contest was over.

So Tifa thanked the waitress for the free meal and drinks and then headed over to the other inn where she took a room and reserved the singular bathroom for an hour for later in the afternoon.

She went over to the harbour to book and pay for passage on the ferry. And then she headed out of town to train on the prairie for a few hours, before heading back to the inn and soaked herself in the relaxing bath. Afterwards, she bathed properly, cleaning off the sweat, grime and sand, before slipping into the comfortable single bed in her room and getting a few restful hours sleep.
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Final Fantasy 7. Tifa Lockhart: Journey to Midgar.