The time Aerith had was short and he didn't need to be told that twice, he made use of it as best as he could. In his former life he had tried to be resourceful since he did not have much for himself to survive.
He accessed the things he lacked and ranked them by priority. Currently two things sat at the top of his plate, the first being combat ability which almost everyone was already partaking in. After seeing the bloody battle on the first day they knew how much one needed to know how to fight, or at least defend themselves.
One thing that had been in Aerith's mind was the events of the first day when he was taken over by the white plague, no one seemed to talk about it which suited him very nicely. He would want that story locked away somewhere. The memory flickered behind his eyelids like white haze, then screams followed. He shook it off like dust.
