The fact that Zack was a big Midgarian Star fan wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret; tales of his (overacted) drama fests over the disqualification of his favorite contenders were common and, by this time, so overtold and built upon that most of them already deserved the status of legend. No one was particularly surprised when he interrupted an impromptu video-game tournament in his dorm room to catch the first elimination rounds of the newest season, and most visitors already had an excuse ready when he insisted they watch along.

            “No, really!” Zack would say. “Hot girls! And sometimes hot girls who can sing! And in the last season there was this poor old missus who kicked everybody’s asses. She had the coolest voice ever!”

            Of the three that stayed, Cloud had never watched MidStar (as it was popularly called). While he was willing to give it a try since Zack seemed to like it so much, the other two were there just for the amusement of making witty comments while bad contestants were flayed live on TV.

            “I wonder if Letty’ll make it back this round?” commented Zack, excited, when the theme song started. He fumbled with the remote control and almost didn’t hit the record button on time.

            The first contestant was a rapper/street-dancer, who whacked his head hard when he tried to do a headstand in the middle of his number.

            “Now imagine if he had broken his neck for that, live,” said Jeff, and the boy’s gasping chuckles turned into pained cringes and furious shuddering.

            The second was a high school cheerleader, or at least someone dressed as one. She proceeded to try and lead a cheer with the audience, but her shrill voice and general peppy, stuck-up attitude didn’t generate much of a favorable response.

            “She had nice tits, at least,” Jeff commented, off-handed.

            “They kinda looked like a padded bra to me,” said Zack, and at the other boy’s curious looks, continued. “You can kinda tell the difference when you’re enhanced.”

            “So that’s why you wanna be a SOLDIER!” Jeff turned to Cloud with a big grin, and the latter could only glare as well as he could while blushing fiercely.

            The third was alright; a pimple-laden, nerdy looking guy who was able to carry his tune without any mishaps, but who wasn’t impressive enough to make it to the finals. The fourth was a ventriloquist, starring in an opera duet with his shriveled witch doll. Cloud had a big grin in his face by the end of that number.

            “He put a young woman’s voice in the witch!” he laughed, clapping along with the TV’s audience without any shame. “I don’t know why, but that just makes it funnier.”

            “Yeah, I’m guessing he’ll make the semifinals at the very least,” Zack grinned back at him, inexplicably pleased with Cloud’s happiness. “I knew you’d like this! It’s always fun to watch.”

            Cloud nodded, but when he turned back to the TV, his jaw went completely slack; his happy, flushed countenance seemed to melt. Zack turned to the TV as well, wondering what could have brought about such a reaction, and— oh. Oh.

            It was a girl, still walking over to the contestant’s spot. Instead of the usual sparkly dress and high heels, she wore a tank-top, baggy pants and what he easily identified as fighting boots. She wasn’t even swinging her hips, or shining a thousand-watt smile; instead, her face was intensely serious and her strides so full of purpose it wouldn’t surprise Zack if she walked right over to the audience and kicked someone in the nads. Without mentioning her two talents. Big talents.

            Certainly worth dislocating a jaw over.

            “Are those padding too?” Jeff asked exactly what Zack was expecting him to.

            “One hundred-percent flesh, my friend,” he answered, glancing sideways at Cloud, who still looked like he’d been slapped with a fish. Ooh, the fun he’d have teasing him over that.

            On TV, the girl was finally in front of the judges, and the introductions had started.

            “What’s your name?” asked the host.

            “Tifa Lockheart,” she said.

            “Is there anyone you’d like to dedicate your song to?”

            Those were the only two personal questions asked in the elimination rounds. Any further questions would be asked in the next rounds, ending with full-blown interviews during the finals.

            “Yes, but I shouldn’t say his name here,” she answered, and only her tense shoulders betrayed any kind of nervousness.

            “Isn’t it going to be your parents?” he asked, curiously.

            “My mother is dead,” she said, “and my father… we had a falling out, of sorts.”

            There was much nodding and shuffling of paper from the judges – Tifa Lockheart had already established herself as a beautiful girl with an interesting personality and history. Now she only needed to show some voice or dance talent in order to be sponsored to death.

            Zack loved MidStar, but he didn’t have many illusions about it. It was as fair as an open contest broadcast live went, but – mainly in the elimination rounds – anyone who seemed to be a possible target of attention was carefully nudged ahead. Attention led to speculation, speculation led to rumors, rumors led to popularity, and popularity led to money. A young, motherless girl who had a “falling out” with her father and stalked to Midgar for a talent show – that was the stuff of drama. Rumors would probably be showing up on the internet that very night.

            “You may sing,” said the host, stepping back while the headlights focused on the girl. The first chords started, and the name of the song she chose flashed on the bottom of the screen.

            She leaned forward into the microphone, almost carefully, lifting her hands in an unconscious gesture as the sharp lights deepened the creases and shadows of her shirt. That little shift alone must have given her half the points she needed.

            Don’t you forget about me

            Don’t you forget about me

            We were soft and young

            In a world of innocence

            Zack nodded to himself. She had a very good voice, not balls-out amazing, but not easily achieved either. She also clearly knew music, instead of being a bathroom singer like other contestants.

            Don’t you forget about me

            Don’t you forget all our dreams

            Now you’ve gone away

            Only emptiness remains

            He glanced to the side. The three of them were listening in silence, eyes glued to the television. Jeff was biting a knuckle, a habit he always slipped into when concentrating hard. Cloud’s eyes had a very suspicious, watery sheen, and even Josh, who Zack had privately thought to be gay, seemed very intent on the TV.

            The song was apparently short on lyrics; she had now started on a long vocal undulation that was sure to cement the judge’s impression of her abilities, as she barely stopped to breathe and shifted notes easily and smoothly. After some orchestral arrangements and repeating of the two previous verses, the song was over, and she stood still as the audience – and Cloud – clapped their hands.

            The judges pressed their buttons, and a long line of circles was drawn around the stage – she had been unanimously approved. More clapping ensued; she left the stage with a small smile and a noticeable spring in her steps.

            “She did it,” said Cloud, breathlessly. “Tifa…”

            “Mmm…” hummed Zack, trying to hold back a grin. “Me thinks the girl already has a fanboy. Thinking “website” now, Cloud?”

            “Two fanboys!” interjected Jeff, flippantly. “I nominate myself President, and Cloud, Vice-President of her official fan-club.”

            Josh laughed as Cloud covered his face with his hands, flushing from his neck up. Zack slapped his shoulder in a friendly manner.

            “Don’t be that way, Cloud,” he smiled. “She’s a good singer. You’ll have an excuse to fanboy her other than booooobeeeeeeeees.”

            Zack waved his fingers, as if mimicking a ghost, and Cloud buried his face even further into his hands, instead of smacking Zack’s shoulder like he usually did. Zack’s grin widened, the poor boy had it bad.

            Several months later, he’d think back on that day and wonder if he should have known then.