wounds mar my skin, painting pale flesh in streaks of crimson, tearing through my clothes, so that i am covered in my own blood and gore. and i heal so slowly, worn down and exhausted from the battle i had so easily thrown myself in, using my body as a shield for the woman i have come to hold close to my heart, my blade a shining metallic silver that protects her from harm. yet it scarcely protects me, as i come out the victor with injuries as my prize and an anguish in my wake, for aerith does not appreciate all that i have done for her.

and it's such a silly thing that she does not wish for harm to come to me when it is to protect her, because had she not wished for me to be her hero? had she not brought this title upon me, when i was so tired and exhausted from all that gaia has thrown at me, and continues to throw at me. i am gaia's champion, and the planet continues to expect that i will be a sturdy warrior, an unshakable protector.

so i don’t understand why aerith comes to me with anger in her voice and worry in her face, distraught that i had thrown myself in front of her so easily, so willing to face unimaginable dangers, and to face those horrors alone. i do not understand, when she sees him in me, a whispered pain that she spoke of all that time ago, of my eyes bringing back memories of the past. i think that maybe, he had been her hero once, and aerith has soon started to call me her hero as well. so what am i to do, but to follow in the footsteps of a figure aerith held so dear to her heart, so that i too may be held that closely as well.

"i'm sorry," i whisper through exhaustion, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer so that i may slump against her. "i wanted to protect you, to keep you safe." i need for her to be safe, so that she may be a beacon of light at the end of the road paved in crimson and corpses, someone to look forward to seeing, to holding in my arms just as i am doing now. i need her to be that for me, just as she has placed the title of hero so gently on my crown. i wonder if she knows how heavy it weighs me down, if she knows that i have begun to drag my body around beneath that crown lest it crushes me till i am hardly but a speck of flesh on the ground.

i bury my face into aerith's shoulders, uncaring that my skin is still slowly and painfully stitching itself back together, that i have not stopped bleeding and that i am staining her red as well. i do not wish for the anguish that she presents to me, for her to be worried enough to yell at me, to grab me and shake me until i may see reason in her words. and i get it, i do. had their roles been reversed, then i would not wish for aerith to put herself in harm's way for me. and yet this is not the situation at hand, and i hope it will never be. i hope that i will always be the one with swords piercing my flesh, with my limbs being torn piece by piece off my joints, that i will be the only one to suffer torments, so that aerith will be spared the brunt of the pain.

what a shoddy hero i am, that i can not even speak to aerith about promises to ease her worries, to soothe the pain that she feels now. they would all be empty promises that i would never be able to live up to, because i would die for her, i would die for her as many times as i am able to just so that she may live. i will take as much pain as i am able to endure, pain that would not be able to endured, all so that aerith may live peacefully. i will not promise her a word, but i nod my head while buried in her neck, so that she may know that i have understood her. so that i will not have to speak to her instead, for i know that no words that come out of my mouth will be ones that she wants to hear.