Tseng arrives at your doorstep with his suit soaked through from the rain and his long hair plastered against his forehead. His face is drawn tight with grief, and when he looks up, he sees the flicker of recognition in your eyes—the same hollow ache he’d been carrying since that day at the Temple of the Ancients; he came to you because you were the only person who could understand.

“I quit,” says Tseng, his voice hoarse. “She’s gone, and Shinra doesn’t care. They never will.” Losing Aerith was not something he could make peace with. You knew her, you were good to her, you wanted her to lead a normal life despite the odds stacked against her. He had excused terrible things in the name of the company, but he couldn’t forgive this. Even if Shinra hunted him down for his departure, he didn’t care. He was through.

The words hang in the air for only a moment before he steps forward, pulling you into his arms with a desperation that surprises even him. His head bows against your shoulder. “She deserved better,” he murmurs, his voice raw, the weight of yet another of his failures pressing down with every word.