Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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For as disjointed as the people of the world had become after the the falls of both Meteor and ShinRa itself, the news of a cure for Geostigma spread like a wildfire. Travelers made pilgrimages to reach the old Church and the pool of purifying water that lay within from all corners; people from as nearby as Kalm and as far away as Wutai trickled in through its open doors for months. Most who appeared were unafflicted - there to collect doses of the water for sick friends or family who were too weak to make the journey themselves.

After around a year, the church became quiet once again. Hundreds of people still came to leave gifts of thanks at its doors, but they never stayed for long. Geostima sufferers were few and far in between.

After two years, it had been a straight ten months since Cloud had seen the black stain of Geostigma with his own eyes, and the last one he'd seen had been on the brink of death. On principal, he kept three small vials of the church's water safe in his pocket just in case he ran into someone that needed it. He hadn't really expected to use one, though - by now people that needed the cure had gotten it, or they had died off. It was a depressing ultimatum, but one that was unfortunately true. Geostigma was painfully taxing on the body, eating away at all it's defenses slowly until it completely consumed it's victim. Hell, Cloud knew the pain firsthand. The idea that someone could still be alive after two whole years while suffering under Geostigma's curse was nigh unbelievable.

At least that's what Cloud had thought.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Rushing forward with one hand already reaching wildly into the padded pouch inside his vest, Cloud dropped to his knees next to the man convulsing on the ground. He nearly pulled away in horrified surprise when he caught sight of the man's skin - every inch of it he could see was mottled purple and black.

"Shit," He hissed under his breath. He didn't have enough water for this. The vials he had would probably only cover around half of the man's skin, and that would be spreading it very thin. Gritting his teeth, Cloud shook his head. He'd do everything he could.

When he'd (grudgingly) accepted the delivery job to pick up 'something of a sensitive matter' from the old Nibelheim mansion for the Turks to get them to shut up and leave him alone, this was the last thing he'd been expecting. Suspicious weaponry, definitely. Questionable information, almost certainly. But a squatter? One afflicted with Geostigma, on top of that? And Cloud had no doubts that this man was the thing the Turks had sent him to 'collect.' He'd caught sight of the old First Class uniform under the man's ridiculous coat, and that was enough to make the hairs on anyone's neck stand on edge. It was no wonder they'd been bothering him about this for weeks - they must have been practically dreading confronting an Ex-SOLDIER First by themselves, even a sick one. It was possible that the man was just wearing clothes he'd found in the mansion - as Cloud himself once had - but something in his gut told him that this man wasn't to be underestimated.

Pulling the first vial out from his vest and popping the cork off, he gingerly gripped the man's arm. The muscles were taut with stress under his fingers, and Cloud could feel them seize as the man groaned. "If you can hear me, I have a cure, alright? I have to pour it onto your skin, and with how far your Geostigma's gotten it's gonna hurt more before it feels better, so hang on and try not to bite through your tongue."

The only response Cloud got was a croaked mumble. Good enough, he figured, and splashed the contents of the vial straight onto the man's face. For a few awful moments, nothing seemed to happen.

Then, like a switch had been hit, the man suddenly choked out a rasping cough that slowly increased in volume until he was all but howling. The blackened skin that the water had touched began to glow with the soft green of the lifestream and disintegrate. Cloud watched it crawl slowly from the man's face, and almost jumped when fingers snapped around his wrist with enough force to snap it if Cloud had been unenhanced. Forcing himself to relax, Cloud waited in silence for the blessed water to do it's job.

After what felt like hours, the man finally began to quiet. His grip on Cloud's wrist eased sightly, his breaths coming in deeper. The black stain had receded from about half of the man's face, and Cloud guessed that the skin hidden by the man's coat was similarly affected.

Leaning in slightly, Cloud bit his lip. "Are you alright to move? There's a bed right in the other room, and it might be nicer there than on the floor here in the hallway."

The man opened one eye for the first time, and the telltale glowing blue iris of a SOLDIER met his own. It regarded him cooly with a wary air of mistrust, and Cloud sighed. "Look, it hurt, I know it hurt. But-" He cut himself off and slipped his arm from the man's grasp. "Hold on, I'll be right back. I can show you." Cloud nodded to the man on the ground, and without waiting for an answer he got up and ran down the hall into the bedrooms. Pointedly ignoring the open passage to Hojo's old lab, he beelined for the bathroom and grabbed the mirror off the wall.

The man was still where Cloud had left him, though he had maneuvered himself into a sitting position. His long hair was matted and dirty; it hung over his shoulders and face in disarray like a tattered shawl. Cloud could see the same single blue eye fixed on him through the man's fringe.

"Here." Cloud held out his hand with the mirror, and angled it so that the man could see his face. For a split second, the man's features twisted in surprise that was quickly masked again. One of his gloved hands came up to lightly brush the cheek that had been cleared by the water. He mouthed something that Cloud couldn't make out.

"Can you speak?" Cloud asked as he handed the mirror over. The man held it up to eye level, inspecting the side of his face that was still dark with the sickness.

The man glared at him from the corner of his open eye, and he set the mirror down against the wall behind him. He opened his mouth and let out a harsh slew of coughing. Cloud winced in sympathy. "I'm sick-" the man ground out. "- Not an imbecile."

Cloud sighed. One sentence, and he could already feel a headache coming on. He was going to kill the Turks. "I wasn't saying that you were. I just didn't know whether or not you'd still be able to talk after all that screaming."

The man raised one shaky hand to make a wide sweeping gesture. "Well, obviously, I am." He said. "And, I was not screaming." He counteracted his own point by leaning more against the wall behind his back and struggling over a coughing fit that Cloud could hazard a wild guess was a result of the screaming.

"Whatever you say." Cloud muttered, and shook his head. "How do you feel?"

"As if I was just run down by a Behemoth." The man sniffed haughtily. "And you said it would hurt, earlier. That did not hurt. That was agony."

Cloud winced. "Sorry about that. There's not much else I could do. With your Geostigma as far as it's gotten, it'll be miserable to tear out."

"Geostigma? Is that what you call it?" The man asked, drawing out the name of the disease as if testing it on his tongue. "The planet's scar - an interesting name."

"You didn't know what it was called?" Cloud blinked. That was new.

The man scoffed and looked away.

It was odd, but not surprising, really. The man must have been avoiding towns and cities with the way he had settled in the old mansion, and Cloud could think of a thousand and one valid reasons for someone with mako eyes that still wore the First Class uniform to be doing that.

"Can it be cured? Completely?" The man asked with the air of someone that was trying to act like the answer to their question was inconsequential.

Cloud nodded, and the man sagged with a sigh. "I can't do it here, though." He motioned to the empty vial that lay on the ground beside them. "I have two more of those on me, but that probably won't be enough to completely cure you, and if it's not totally gone it'll keep coming back."

The man sat up ramrod straight. "Give me the other two, then. Now."

Cloud stared. Is this guy for real? He thought incredulously. "No, no way. You need some time to rest before you do that again. Twice."

"I don't need resting time." The man snapped, but there was an unmistakable quiver of relief in his words.

Resisting the urge to massage his temples in frustration, Cloud grabbed the empty water vial and tucked it away back into his vest. "Alright, so you don't need it. Take it anyways."

Again, the man regarded him with a cool look of calculation. Coming to some sort of decision, he turned away and closed his eye. "Fine."

A few moments passed.

"...Do you want to go rest in one of the beds?" Cloud asked.

The man moved to get up, but sunk back to the floor within seconds. He stared at his legs with a frown. "... No. Here is fine." He said decisively.

"... Do you want help moving to the bed?"

"No."

Cloud waited. "Oh, for-" He ground out, and leaned forward and slipped his arm under the man's shoulders and heaved him to his feet. "Come on, we're putting you in the goddamn bed."

The man made an awkward squawking noise, but didn't resist as Cloud used himself as a crutch to help him stumble into the mansion's master bedroom and let him drop onto the king-sized bed.

"Rest for as long as you want to. I won't go anywhere. When you're feeling better, I'll take you back to Midgar."

The single blue eye peered at him again. "... Midgar? Midgar is in ruins."

Cloud nodded. "It is, but there's an old church there. The water from there cures Geostigma."

The man made a curious humming noise. "Odd, indeed." He was quiet for so long after that Cloud almost left the room. He was about to turn around when the man's scratchy voice spoke up again. "And why would you go through the trouble to aid me to Midgar? You could just leave now. An old sentiment towards a commander, perhaps?"

"... What?" Cloud grunted in confusion.

"You were in SOLDIER, were you not? Your eyes are unmistakable - do not think that they escaped my notice."

Logically, Cloud supposed, it made sense. He shook his head. "No, I was never in SOLDIER. I'm just helping you because you need it, and I'm the only one here." He had no intention of telling the ex-SOLDIER that the Turks had sent him. To be honest, he really had no intention of even reporting that he'd found the man to the Turks themselves. If they want dirty work done, they can do it themselves, Cloud mused. They probably already knew, anyways.

The man's face twisted in anger. "I do not appreciate lies - especially stupid ones. Your eyes tell truths louder than your voice can attempt to cover them."

Cloud sighed and shrugged. "Whatever you want to believe. I'll be in the room next to you. Shout if you need anything." He turned to leave, but stopped before he crossed the door. "I'm Cloud. Cloud Strife."

When no response came from the bed, Cloud shrugged again and moved forward. He only got a few steps before the man called out one last time.

"Genesis Rhapsodos."

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Chapter Text

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Over the course of the rest of that day and night, Cloud repeatedly popped into the master bedroom to check and make sure his odd charge was still breathing. Genesis was fast asleep (or at least pretending very well) every time he looked. At three in the morning, when the moon hung high in the sky and shined down softly through his open window, Cloud had been wide awake for hours with no sign of sleep coming.

Sleeping inside the old mansion would be hard enough even by himself - shit, just being there made his gut roll and his skin prickle - but with someone he didn't know in the room just next door? An ex-SOLDIER, at that? Cloud's creeping paranoia wouldn't be letting him get to sleep any time soon, that was for sure.

Pushing himself to his feet, Cloud took a moment to work the kinks from his neck. The last time they'd been in the mansion, AVALANCHE had pulled everything of use from it's rooms. Cloud wandered around anyways, checking around to make sure no Potions or Ethers were left behind. In the kitchen, he found a nearly empty shelf of canned food - beans, fruits, soups. Just in case, Cloud took everything that seemed safe to eat and shoved it in a bag. He grabbed a pan from one of the kitchenware racks too, and tucked it away. The drive back to Midgar would take at least three days if he went fast, but fast was what Fenrir was built for. Genesis would have to eat to keep up his strength - Cloud suspected with no small amount of worry that if he'd shown up even a week later, the sleeping man would probably be a dead one. The single dose of healing water had only picked away at Genesis' infection - without a full treatment from the Church, his Geostigma would return with a vengeance.

Morning creeped up on him slowly. The sun cast a dusty glow into the rooms with windows nobody had closed, and small particles of light dancing through the air gave the whole mansion a surreal feeling; like something out of a warm storybook. Cloud's skin crawled, though - the thought of what was under them and what had happened there made it impossible to enjoy the light atmosphere. A soft creak on the stairs had Cloud slinking back into the main hall of the mansion to meet an awake Genesis. Though Cloud could see that the Geostigma had already reached back across a few centimeters of skin that he'd cured, Genesis still looked far better than he had the night before - the rest had probably done him good, however reluctant it may have been.

The day before, it had been hard to catch a proper look at the man. Between the horrid lighting in the hallway they'd been in and the pressing matter of Genesis' Geostigma, Cloud hadn't managed to get much of an idea of what Genesis looked like besides bright blue eyes and matted light hair. Now, though, the soft orange light trailed in from the window behind the ex-SOLDIER, illuminating his features. If it hadn't been for the black stain of Geostigma and the unkempt state of his waist-length hair, Genesis probably would have looked like the kind of attractive people that starred on T.V. dramas and movies. Again, he had only the one eye open, and Cloud wondered if the other one hurt too much to use as it was on the side of his face that was covered with Geostigma.

"You're up?" Cloud asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you feel well enough to head out?"

Genesis gave an over-exaggerated eye rolling motion, and nearly pranced down the stairs. "Don't ask stupid questions. I feel stronger than I have in months." He brought his fist up to eye level and clenched it hard, the red leather of his glove pulling tight. "And you are assuming much, Cloud Strife; that I am simply going to accompany you while I know nothing of your motives." Almost all the traces of the coughing and hoarseness in his voice from the day before were absent. He sure sounds like he's feeling better, Cloud thought to himself.

Cloud sighed. He could feel a headache coming on already, and he wondered if his conscience would forgive him if he just left Genesis here. Probably not, he groaned to himself. "I'll tell you where the Church is, and you can take the vials - but do you really think you can make it all the way back to Midgar by yourself?" He deadpanned. "I'm not sure you have much of a choice."

Genesis leaned back, his single open eye widening a bit. An angry frown twisted across his face. "You had best hope that your bite is as big as your bark - but, you do. . . have. . . a valid point."

Genesis would never make it on his own, that much Cloud was almost certain they both knew. He had no clue how long Genesis had been hanging around the mansion, but with the way he'd barely been able to move the day before, Cloud had a sneaking suspicion that he'd been hanging around for a long time, unable to move on anywhere else from weakness. Even his current strength was on a timed limit - in a few days Geostigma would be sapping it away again like sand slipping through his fingers.

What it boiled down to was that if Genesis wanted to live, he would have to follow Cloud.

Cloud almost winced at the thought. "Look, I'm trying to help. I promise."

"And I should trust the word of a man that has already lied to me?" Genesis cocked his head to the side, arching up the eyebrow on the side of his face untouched by Geostigma.

Groaning, Cloud shook his head. "I didn't lie. I was never in SOLDIER." He'd come to terms with that fact, but he couldn't stop a bitter note from affecting his voice anyways.

Genesis looked at him silently for a long moment, an inquisitive light in his open eye. ". . . I will drop this for now, but you will tell me the truth." He stated, certainty hard in his voice.

Cloud didn't miss that Genesis was implying they would have time to talk again, which meant he had conceded to going with Cloud. He breathed a sigh of relief, and shrugged. "Do you need to get anything before we go?" He asked.

"Anything I was searching for here is long gone, now." Genesis said. He glanced around the main hall slowly, as if double checking his words to make sure that he wasn't forgetting anything. His attention snapped back to Cloud, and he shook his head. "Let us go, then."

Cloud frowned. "What were you looking for?" He could think of hundreds of different things someone like Genesis could have been searching for in the old mansion, and didn't like any of them.

Genesis regarded him cooly and mimicked Cloud's earlier shrug. "When you feel like telling me the truth about your eyes, maybe I will tell you." He said smartly, and brushed past Cloud. He pushed the door open with a forceful shove, and stalked outside.

Cloud sighed, and followed the man out the door.

Genesis stopped in the patio and looked around. "Where is your vehicle?" He asked.

Cloud pointed to Fenrir, the enormous gleaming bike parked under one of the only bits of shade in the area.

The other man looked slightly startled when he followed Cloud's finger, and looked back towards Cloud as if trying to see if he was joking. "You can not be serious." He bit out.

Narrowing his eyes, Cloud straightened his back and stood taller. He drew the line at insulting Fenrir, dammit. "Is there something wrong with my bike?" He asked slowly, voice icy.

"That thing looks like a death trap." Genesis said, eying it nervously.

Cloud rolled his eyes. "It's not a death trap. I'm a good driver."

"I might rather just take my chances with the disease."

Cloud stared at him for a few moments before shrugging and walking forwards and climbing onto the driver's seat on the bike. "Your funeral." He called back. If Cloud was right, in a few moments-

There was an indignant squawk from behind him, and the sounds of someone running. Suddenly, Genesis swooped back into his field of vision, waving one of his hands around awkwardly. "Wait, wait, wait-" He awkwardly climbed on behind Cloud and circled his arms around Cloud's stomach. "I did not say that I was not coming. I am coming, Cloud Strife. A little motorcycle ride is a trifle for a SOLDIER First Class." He muttered the last bit under his breath, but Cloud's hearing picked it up anyways, and he stifled the sudden urge to laugh.

"So you were a First, then." Cloud said as he started up Fenrir and revved the engine loudly. The arms around his stomach tightened just a fraction of an inch.

"Of course I was a First. I'm wearing the uniform." Genesis said crabbily.

Cloud didn't bother explaining himself, and began to putt forward slowly. He rolled softly through the town, keeping his head down and trying not to look at any of the eerie buildings.

"I thought this little place was burned down?" Cloud's passenger asked offhandedly.

Cloud nodded. "It was."

Genesis fell quiet again. When they pulled out of the front gates, he spoke back up. "ShinRa?"

Cloud nodded again.

"Hmm." Was the only response he got.

Once the road was clear and open, Cloud - a bit vindictively - stepped on the pedal as hard as he could. The little yelp in his ear was worth every bit of gas wasted.

---

As the day wore on, Genesis eventually seemed to relax. After his first stunt, Cloud tried to keep his driving as careful and even as he could to make it easier on his passenger. He was far more used to driving, as Tifa called it, 'maniaclly with a death wish.'

It was easy to tell that Genesis had gotten used to the bike – the calmer he got, the more he talked.

Mostly, it was pointless chatter; it seemed like once Genesis felt like he'd exhausted a subject, he moved onto something else. Anything to fill the quiet space, Cloud guessed. He didn't bother responding to much, though that apparently suited Genesis just fine – Cloud's unresponsiveness didn't deter him one bit.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Cloud could officially say that he knew the intricicies of relations between the deceased ShinRa higher ups, two different interpretations and half of a third of the poem LOVELESS, a whole slew of tips and tricks on charging a Fire materia, what the best restraunts above-plate had been, and last but not least - which shady Wutuian slums market stalls had sold the strongest coffee.

It didn't escape Cloud's notice that Genesis avoided talking about anything personal. He made no mention of friends, family, or any stories about his life besides which LOVELESS performances he'd been to. (And what ratings he'd given them – not many got anything above a five.)

When he felt like talking, Cloud filled in the occasional silences that Genesis left him with basic information about the current state of society. Genesis had confirmed Cloud's hunch that the man had been living under a rock – he'd buried the confession under a wave of blustering and an insult or two, but it had come out all the same.

Genesis listened quietly when Cloud did talk; only stopping him to add the occasional comment or question. He'd known, obviously, about Midgar's destruction – but Edge had come as a surprise.

Once Cloud's words began to slow awkwardly, though, Genesis picked the conversation back up from his end and ran with it. It was odd, and not what Cloud was used to at all. Most of AVALANCHE avoided pointless small talk with Cloud – even Yuffie had trouble keeping up a conversation with him sometimes. He didn't blame them; Cloud had a way of always dragging things back to depressing topics or just shutting down altogether and answering with nothing but grunts and nods. Once this happened, the conversation would slowly die down into nothing.

Genesis talked enough for the both of them – it was both startling and almost relaxing, in a way. Cloud didn't feel pressured to keep talking; if he quieted, Genesis would enthusiastically pick up the slack and erupt into another lengthy lecture on whatever his mind had stopped on. Genesis himself seemed to just enjoy talking. Even though most of the topics Genesis went off about were less than interesting to Cloud and his mannerisms overdramatic and downright rude at times, the constant feeling of someone there that came from all the chatter was. . .

Nice.

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Chapter Text

By the time the sun had completely fallen behind the looming mountains in their wake, Cloud had pulled over and began to set up camp for the night. Genesis stood awkwardly to the side, watching Cloud work to assemble the tent he kept inside Fenrir's storage compartment for long trips. He hadn't offered to help, and Cloud certainly hadn't asked. The tent wasn't hard to pitch; it was a simple setup of stakes and a tarp that had to be pinned down to them. Cloud had kept it specifically for that reason – in the days when AVALANCHE had been running all over the Planet fighting Sephiroth and ShinRa, they'd had more nights than he could count on both hands where it had taken the entire group at least a whole hour to figure out how they were supposed to set a new tent up.

“Your motorcycle is... fast.” Genesis' voice drifted over from where he was standing.

“Yup.” Cloud nodded, using his fist to hammer one of the plastic stakes into the ground.

Genesis sniffed. “I... am no fan of motorcycles, however – yours has proven me wrong. You are a competant enough driver, if mad. I-”

He trailed off long enough that Cloud looked up from where he'd moved on to the third stake. Genesis caught his eyes and smirked. “-I like fast.”

Cloud snorted and went back to hammering. “If you like fast, then why don't you like motorcycles? They're way faster than cars.”

“I do not care for cars, either.” Genesis muttered, clicking his tongue.

Cloud raised an eyebrow. “What, do you get motion sick? I do – the only thing I can ride without feeling sick is Fenrir.”

Genesis shook his head. “No. It is not sickness, per say, but I dislike the feeling of being in motion without... moving, myself.”

“... Isn't that just motion sickness?”

Rolling his open eye, (extra dramatically with a full shouldered shrug, as if to make up for the fact that he could only roll one) Genesis gave an exasperated sigh. “No, no, no. It is not a physical sickness. I do not get nautious. I do not worry that I will be hurt on them – I am -was- a SOLDIER, First Class. It would take more than a motorcycle crash to truly harm me.”

Cloud sat back on the balls of his feet and squinted at the other man. Genesis was lying through his teeth, Cloud thought incredulously. It had died off fast, but the hesitation and slight fear that Genesis had displayed when they'd started riding hadn't been faked.

“You just hadn't ever ridden one before, had you?” Cloud asked.

Genesis jerked and opened his mouth to argue, but nothing but a sigh came out. He rolled his shoulders. “No, I had not.” He muttered. “Ange- An old friend of mine had one once, though.”

Ignoring the name that Genesis had slipped on, Cloud nodded and put the finishing touches on the tent. With a harsh tug, he checked that it wouldn't collapse during the night. “All done.” He said, and turned back to Genesis. “What was your friend's bike like?” He asked.

Genesis eyed the tacky tent apprehensivly, but continued speaking. “Nothing like yours. It was much smaller, for one. He did not ride it often.” He stared at the ground, seemingly lost in thought. “He crashed, once. Almost lost his hand.”

“I'm not surprised. I crashed a lot, too, when I first started riding.” Cloud confessed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Genesis fixed him with a disdainful look. “Not the best thing to be telling your passenger, no?”

Cloud shrugged. “I got better.”

“Apparently.” Genesis tipped his head slightly in Cloud's direction. They fell silent, the awkward conversation dying down again. Suddenly, Genesis motioned loosely with his hand towards the tent. “And this is where we will be sleeping, I suppose?” He asked with disdain, as if he was looking at a trash heap instead of an (admittedly) rickety tent.

“Unless you want to sleep out here, then yeah. It is.” Cloud grumbled, and ducked under the entrance flap. “I don't have another one, but this one's probably big enough.”

A scoffing sound came from outside, and Cloud felt a strong urge to roll his eyes and sigh. Shaking his head, he waited as Genesis crouched into the tent behind him. The other man looked around the tent with a single eyebrow raised, and huffed. “Well, it is bigger than I imagined.” He said, and pulled a face. “Though it will be a bit of a tight fit.”

“It's not meant for two people.” Cloud shrugged. “I really only travel by myself nowadays, so I've only got this tent and one blanket. Sorry.”

Genesis eyed him. “You were not aware that you would be having a 'guest'. Do not apologize when you have done nothing wrong. It is a sign of submissiveness – you are a SOLDIER, and you are strong. The strong do not submit.” He said evenly, his single open eye never leaving Cloud's. “And- for the love of the Goddess-” He jerked his hands into the air. “- cease that infernal shrugging!”

Cloud leaned backwards, frowning. “You were complaining. I apologized. And-”

“I have been counting. You have shrugged exactly seven times in the last thirty minutes.”

“-And why am I suddenly not allowed to shrug?” Cloud groaned and turned around to drag his blanket from his pack.

“It is a lazy motion! Use your words! One shrug, two shrugs- fine! But you cannot communicate through only shrugging!” Genesis crossed his arms tightly.

Cloud closed his eyes and counted to three. “Go to sleep.” He ground out, and layed down on his side with his back turned to the other man.

Genesis spluttered but, thankfully, fell quiet. After only a minimal amount of shuffling, he laid down behind Cloud, their backs pressed together from lack of space.

“... You are not worried about something sneaking up on us in here?” Genesis' voice trailed up from the other side of the tent again and Cloud almost groaned out loud.

“No. I'm a light sleeper.” He whispered.

The answer was apparently enough for Genesis, as there was no response.

---

Cloud awoke to a strange thumping noise and angry muttering.

Cracking one eye open, he looked around. The warmth at his back was gone, his ornery passenger mysteriously absent from the tent. Cloud bit back a sigh and crawled outside. The sun was barely crawing into the still-dark sky.

Genesis was kneeling before a dead tree stump with his sword in one hand, and his matted mess of hair in the other. He had his hair pressed down against the stump, and was hacking at it with his sword.

“What... are you doing?” Cloud asked in exasperated confusion.

Genesis jumped, and twisted around to see Cloud. He looked awkwardly between Cloud and the sword in his hand and his hair against the tree stump. “It was- becoming a nuisance.” He said in a painfully fake calm tone, a light dusting of red beginning to color his cheeks.

“And you're just- cutting it. Cutting it off.”

Genesis nodded sharply, his face beginning to match the hue of his coat. “Yes, well- it was very heavy, and on the motorcycle, well.”

Cloud stared. “So you're cutting it off. With your sword. At-” He glanced at the sun again. “- Five in the morning? Maybe?”

“I would have been done an hour ago, but cutting it evenly is, ah. Harder. Than I thought it would be.” Genesis paused awkwardly, and eyed the sword in his hand again. “Especially only being able to open one of my eyes. I almost cut off my finger.” He muttered the last part under his breath, but Cloud's ears picked it up anyways.

“... Do you want help?” Cloud asked, at a loss.

Midgar couldn't come fast enough.

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