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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
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21. Kalm.
Entering Kalm felt like walking into an upmarket version of Nibelheim. It had the same overall layout, and a similar style of building design. It even felt calm. A lovely stone-built little town of a bygone age. However, unlike Tifa’s home village, everything here was bright and clean and polished. Fully paved blue-black granite slabs had long ago been worked into a series of interlocking circular patterns, forming an artistically paved ground. The visible woodwork was all carefully maintained and varnished. All visible paintwork seemed to be constantly maintained and touched up as well. There was no evidence dust or grime blown in from outside, and no litter.

The feature forming the centre of town was some kind of industrial complex or assembly, Tifa wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was a Mako-fuel redistribution node, supplying the town with the overflow of Mako energy from Midgar? She wasn’t aware of Kalm having its own reactor. Or maybe it was a leftover generator of some kind, from the pre-Mako age? Either way, the tall engineered construction of iron and copper piping, of cylindrical containers, of pistons and regulatory pressure dials and control levers, formed an eye-catching centre piece to the granite paved town square. And around it, forming the boundary of the town square, in a wider circle was the core of the town’s buildings; shops, inns, centres for commerce and local government, all the usual necessities.

The remainder of the town grew outwards from the centre in concentric circles with narrow streets and little twisting alleyways separating and linking the different areas, the promise of more shops and services, no doubt intermingled with domiciles. It had been a sea-defence fort-town at one point, and still had high walls topped with crenallations around two thirds of the ocean-facing sides of the town.

There was an inn to Tifa’s immediate left and she could see shops across the other side of the square> There was a little single-sided precinct-mall along the upper floor of an attractive raised stone thoroughfare. She could even see a small laundrette underneath the arches that formed the lower half of the thoroughfare. That would be handy too. Though first a room for the night, a long hot soak in a bath, and then a hearty meal in a local restaurant.

Room and bath, meal and clothes-clean all but wiped out Tifa’s leftover Gil. However, an opportunity presented itself as she emerged from the clothing cleaners. There were neatly pinned flyers on notice boards all over the town, advertising the shops and services, town meetings, a couple of petitions requesting signatures. However, while on the way in she didn’t pay much attention to any of them.

Tifa enjoyed the little nostalgic tinkle of the laundrette’s door’s bell, as she helped the well-hinged door to close smoothly, having given them all of her clothes (other than what she had on) for a deep clean and dry. And then Following the pleasant sound of the door’s bell, picked up a distinctive meow and quickly looked up and around her with focussed eyes for the owner of the voice. The quaint red brick arches were braced with thick wooden supports. Squared off, smoothed, darkened with age and sealant, and then varnished over and over again. However behind and between the wooden skeletal support structure, were old weather-worn bricks. They were of the older style, long and shallow rectangles of rust-coloured rock. However, there were little dark hollows between where a vertical wall met the underside of an arch, or a narrow shelf where a brick arch, angled away from a horizontal wooden support. And in one of those deeply shadowed hollows, barely visible, was the dim grey shape of a little white cat. Cats were assumed to be a distant relation to mogs, Tifa’s father’s books had informed her of such, and that memory took her straight back to the white stray she had all but adopted back in Nibelheim. Reaching up both hands, Tifa tried to coax that cat down from its hiding place.

“Here, pus-pus-pus…” She gently cajoled.

The cat gave a whining meow in response and turned around in its little cubby hole, though Tifa remembered enough about the cat from her home village, that had often been sickly and yet had, on more than one occasion, attempted running off toward mount Nibel. She had learned its mannerisms through careful observation and all that knowledge came back to her with this little feline. She managed to coax it down with her soft voice and pleasant demeanour, as well as a little dried meat from her store, some of which she had transferred to the small hip pouch she kept alongside her drinking flask.

Cuddling the cat while heading back across the town square to the inn, she spotted a little water colour painting of a similar looking white cat on one of the billboards and went over to get a closer look. It was a handmade flyer:
“Mittens is lost, she’s all white except for front right paw and tail tip are grey. Small reward for return. Please help, I really miss her!”
Tifa glanced at the cat in her arms, noted the matching grey patches and then looked back to the flyer. There was a name and address - Tomi the tattoo artist, third circle, eastern upper elevation. Kalm. Tifa immediately changed direction and made her way to the address.

It was a tiny place, in between two larger shops. And it almost looked as though the larger two had crushed the little tattoo parlour between them, leaving it little more than a booth. Tifa, keeping a soothing hand laying long gentle strokes down the lithe little cat’s lean back, had to elbow the door open. There came the sweet tinkling of a tiny door’s bell.

The room beyond was little more than a plinth with a cash register, a plush adjustable chair and the two side walls that were filled with framed examples of artwork, and a corner-set floor to ceiling bookshelf of bound books, probably of tattoo designs.

From a ‘door’ made from strings of beads filling a second doorway at the rear of the shop appeared an attractive dark skinned young woman with striking short spikey red hair, a blue leather jacket over a revealing and plastic-looking bodice that matched the colour of her dyed hair, and a tiny pair of blue denim shorts with the button unfastened. Her long shapely legs, sheathed in fishnets, ended in dark blue boots with red laces. Her chest and neck were adorned with tattoos, as were the backs of her hands. And on closer inspection, Tifa realised that the fishnets weren’t fishnets at all, but tattoos of vines in a loose network, spiralling upward and covering all of her legs from the tops of her boots to the tops of her thighs. She smiled at Tifa even as her eyes lowered to the small white cat.

“Mittens!” She cried, rushing forward, tears already flowing. “Y’found Mittens! Oh, bless yer! Bless yer!”

There followed five minutes of Tifa standing there feeling awkward, as well as filled with happiness-by-proxy, as she watched the young tattoo artist gushing and weeping over the safely returned cat. The cat who reluctantly tolerated being fawned over, no doubt fully expecting to be paid back later with a nice steamed fish or some other gourmet treat.

“Oh, thank yer, thank yer, Miss! Where’d yer find ‘im, anyhow?”
“Hiding in the arches, down near the square.” Tifa replied, smiling patiently.
“Naughty kitten, gave me such a fright!” The young artist gushed.

And then glancing to make sure the parlour’s entrance was properly closed, she allowed the little slender cat to step down from her lap and go stalking around the place.

“Nah then, what kinda tattoo’d y’like, anything yer see, completely free’r charge.” The young artist said with a wide, welcoming smile.

Tifa just looked at her, eyes suddenly wide, with incomprehension.
“Or if you’ve somethin’ more personal in mind? I’ll see what I c’n do.”
“So, the reward is a tattoo?”
“Course, babe. M’only a lil shop, can’t afford a cash prize, but I’m a very good tattooist. Won prizes n’all!” She said with a wide, honest grin.
“Erm, I’m not sure. I never thought of having a tattoo…”
“I c’n do yer somethin’ real tiny, outta sight, if yer like. Nape’er the neck’s a good place, so it’s under yer ‘air. Hurts like hell mind. Though you look like a tough one, for a pretty girl. Lovely figure on yer, too.”
She added with a sly grin.

“Thanks.” Tifa replied with a bemused smile. “Anything you recommend?”
“Well, love-hearts and vines ‘n stuff ’re mi’ special’ty... Lemme just check on Mittens, you have a lil think…” She said, and then disappeared into the back room.

Tifa had a little wander around, looking at the scores of coloured ink drawings. She didn’t spot anything specific but there was enough artistic inspiration to develop an idea she liked. It wasn’t long before the young artist reappeared, with a sketch pad and a little pencil case. She went over to her plinth, dropped the pad onto it and then pulled a small ink pen from the cylindrical fabric case.

“I have an idea…” Tifa said uncertainly. “…Will you tell me what you think of it?”
“Describe it t’me, I’ll sketch it fer yer.”
"Okay, I'd like three inter-linking love-hearts please, the middle one around the size of your thumbnail, I guess… That's for my parents. I’d like that one broken in some way, like, shattered… And then two smaller ones, one on either side, for the other two loves in my life, who have both left me...”
“Oh babe. That’s rilly sad…” The young artist said, sympathy brimming in her saucer-eyes.

And then she lowered her head and got to sketching.

“I’ve lost both my parents, and the other two… well… At least one of them is in Midgar, maybe both, so I'm hopeful..."
“You gonna hav'ta choose or somethin’?” The artist asked, now working away with a number of pencil crayons.
"One of them's a childhood friend I haven't seen in five years, so everything might be different now... I love Zangan, that’s the other guy, but that ended abruptly and he might not take me back..."
“He’d be a fool not to… How’s this?” She asked, holding up the sketch pad.
“Oh, that’s perfect, you’re a great artist. I love the way you’ve shattered the middle heart.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“Would that be okay? I’m not asking too much for a reward?”
“Are you kidding? I’d cover you back with a full colour Shin-Ra diamond for bringing me Mittens.”

Tifa grunted, a dark look crossing her lovely young face.
“I’d probably kill you if you did.” She murmured.

Then she felt bad and attempted to apologise but the artist just laughed and brushed off her flustered apology.

“Don’t sweat it babe.” The artist grinned. “Plenty around here not fans’a them assholes. Some even say they ‘organised’ the disaster ‘ere that ended up them comin’ out with their Mako reactors. Put a whole lotta people outta their jobs.”

She led Tifa to the chair, rearranging the mechanical device so she lay forward over it, face down. And then Tifa dragged her hair together and the artist pinned it up and hooked it out of the way. Finally, she shaved the little wispy hairs from the nape of Tifa’s neck, disinfected the rectangle of flesh that was to be her easel and then got down to work.

It took an hour and was pretty painful, but for Tifa it was nothing much. She used some of Zangan’s thinking techniques to pull her mind away from the discomfort and put it elsewhere.

Afterwards, a touch the artists’ Restore Materia sealed the work and healed the scabbing completely.

“There. All done.” The young artist said. “I’m pretty proud of that.”

She took a photograph of the tattoo and passed the instant snap to Tifa who was sitting upright in the saddle-like seat working her fingers through her hair. She gushed at the result, which was smaller in width than her little finger and looked exactly as she had imagined. The artist had even added a little loose knot of leafy vines behind it, like a picture frame.

“Oh yes, that’s perfect! That’s fantastic! Thank you so much.”
“Yer more’an welcome, babe.” The artist smiled. “Least I could do.”
“You stayin’ ‘round here for long? We could maybe get a drink, I’m busy tonight but tomorrow…”
“I’m sorry, I would but I’m only here overnight. I’m heading for Midgar in the morning.”
“Midgar! Well, a mate a’mine’s going there in the mornin’, selling some bits ‘n pieces to some contacts. I could get ‘im t’take you along, get you through the checkpoints. And it’d only take an hour in his truck.”
“Oh, that would be great. Thank you so much.”
“You be at the carpark just outside a town a seven tomorrow, I’ll tell ‘im to look out fer yer… What’s your name babe?”
“Tifa, Tifa Lockhart.”
“I’m Tomi. Lovely t’meet’cha.”
“You too Tomi. And thanks again.”
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Final Fantasy 7. Tifa Lockhart: Journey to Midgar.