Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sneaking into Shinra Tower had seemed like a good idea at the time. Simple recon, Cloud had told himself. In and out, nice and quiet. It’s not like he hadn’t done this a thousand times before. So here he was, crammed inside a freezing metal air duct, trying to keep his breathing down to an imperceptible whisper, and—oh, right—absolutely praying no one would glance up. Perfect plan, right?

No one would ever think to check the ducts. Genius.

Except now, Commander Genesis Rhapsodos was in the building, right beneath him, and the guy was definitely checking the ducts.

Shit.

Cloud squinted through the slats, trying not to make any sudden movements as Rhapsodos strode into the room below, his long red coat trailing dramatically behind him. Of course, he had to look all heroic and brooding—here of all places. What were the odds?

Cloud swallowed hard, cursing his luck and, let’s be honest, his whole life at this point.

He pressed tighter against the duct, the stupid black wig itching under his headband. He’d thought the disguise was clever—totally not obvious. Tifa hadn’t even recognized him in it. Yet, with one glance up, Rhapsodos tilted his head, squinted slightly, and then— “Cloud?”

Heart. Sinking. Straight. Through. The. Floor.

Cloud froze, his brain firing off all kinds of panicked alarms. How? How in Gaia's name did Rhapsodos recognize him that fast? He wasn’t even blonde right now! The wig! The bandana! This was supposed to work, it was Vincent inspired!

But no. Of course not. Because why would anything go right tonight?

He stammered, his lips moving but producing nothing coherent. “Uh… what… no… I’m not—” But it was too late. Rhapsodos’ voice had cracked with disbelief and something else. Concern? Desperation?

The look in his eyes was raw, like he was trying to stop Cloud from running before he even moved. “Cloud, wait, just—please, don’t run.” Genesis took a hesitant step forward, his hand half-raised as if approaching a scared animal. His voice softened, laced with a strange mixture of relief and fear. “I—I thought I’d lost you again.”

Cloud’s disguise shattered like glass. His throat tightened, and for a second, he was frozen in place, unsure what to do.

Why did Genesis have to sound like that? Why did he have to look at him like he’d just come back from the dead? Cloud’s heart twisted in his chest, but now was definitely not the time to let that get to him. And what was worse? He had the audacity to feel… flustered. He scowled at himself, fighting off a wave of heat creeping up his neck. Why was he so thrown off? Maybe it was the way Genesis had looked at him—like he’d torn his heart out and stomped on it. Maybe it was something about that look that sent his mind spinning in very, very inappropriate directions. It was almost embarrassing. Or no, scratch that. It was actually mortifying. He had no time to be touch-starved right now.

This was not the moment to imagine anything physical. This was the moment to run.

Before he could pull his shattered nerves together, the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. No, not literally. But metaphorically, because of course, Sephiroth arrived. The other Sephiroth. Not his Sephiroth, but close enough to make Cloud’s skin crawl.

Awesome. Because one 1st class SOLDIER wasn’t bad enough.

Sephiroth didn’t exactly materialize from thin air like the version Cloud knew, but his presence was still unsettling. Cloud instinctively reached for Tsurugi—but oh, right. He’d left his sword behind to avoid being noticed. Brilliant move. Really, he was on fire tonight.

Cloud forced himself to stay still, watching as the two SOLDIERs exchanged glances. Yeah, they definitely knew it was him. Disguise officially, totally, completely blown. He glanced down at the small hunting knife tucked in his boot. He had that, and maybe a couple of weak materia spells, but let’s be real: a knife and some magic weren’t going to save him from the likes of these two.

His Confuse and Sleep spells were just about useless against guys like them now. They’d seen him pull those tricks before. Hell, they probably expected him to try it any second now. Which meant there was only one option left.

Running.

Without another thought, Cloud bolted. Like a coward. Like an absolute, embarrassing coward. He shot down the hallway, boots slamming against the cold floors, his heart pounding. Behind him, he heard Genesis’ voice, desperate and pleading this time, “Cloud! Wait—please, stop!”

He didn’t stop.

Cloud’s lungs burned as he tore around a corner, the stairwell looming ahead. Just a few more steps. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it and get out of this nightmare. But then he caught a sound—something familiar, something he really didn’t want to hear right now.

Zack Fair’s voice. Coming from the bathroom?

Cloud skidded to a halt and scrambled into the nearest vent, shoving himself back into the air ducts with all the grace of a cockroach. He sealed the cover shut, pressing his back against the cold metal, trying to breathe through the panic rising in his chest.

From his hiding spot, he could hear Zack’s voice, panicked, filled with genuine concern. “Cloud? Cloud, are you here? Hey bud…we just wanna talk…” Cloud’s pulse thudded in his ears. Zack was worried. His tone wasn’t frustrated like he’d expected. He sounded anxious, almost pleading. Why, though?

Zack’s voice carried on, his tone tightening. “Please, if you’re here, just—just come say hi, don’t you wanna see your old bud?.”

Cloud held his breath, every muscle tensed, as Zack’s voice faded, and the sounds of footsteps grew distant.He couldn’t believe he’d ended up in this situation. Again. Why did it always have to go like this? He should’ve listened to Tifa. She’d wanted to come, and he’d brushed her off, convinced that flying solo would make him less obvious.

But no. Here he was, hiding in air ducts while Genesis, Zack and freakin’ Sephiroth were hunting him down. Tifa didn’t even recognize him in this stupid disguise. How did Genesis see through it in two seconds? Cloud shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space, mentally kicking himself over and over. This was a disaster. No, worse than a disaster—it was an absolute trainwreck of his own making. And now? Now he was stuck here until nightfall, praying the SOLDIERs would leave before his muscles seized up and he had to crawl his way down sixty flights of stairs without being caught.

Again.

Fantastic. What could possibly go wrong?

Cloud let out a long, exasperated sigh, staring up at the ceiling of the vent. “Great plan, Cloud,” he muttered bitterly. “Really top-tier thinking. Nailed it.”

Chapter Text

Several months earlier

Cloud felt it the moment he stepped off the bike, the familiar hum of the engine fading behind him when he entered the quiet solitude of the church. He should have felt relief, a sense of return, but instead, there was an inexplicable pull gnawing at him, tugging him somewhere else. Somewhere far from Tifa, the kids, and the life he had built since the war with Shinra, Jenova, and Sephiroth.

Costa del Sol had been a routine delivery, and by all accounts, he should have been exhausted, eager to sink into the comfort of a warm meal and laughter. Yet, standing in that doorway, something in the pit of his stomach stirred restlessly. The church. It made no sense. He hadn't been there in months, hadn’t needed to. And the Geostigma? It had been under control for a long time. His family deserved his time tonight—Tifa deserved his time. Still, the pull was relentless, a quiet but undeniable force. Cloud ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake it off, trying to focus on what mattered.

"Cloud?" Tifa’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts. She was standing in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, her expression soft but questioning. "Everything okay? You’re back early."

Cloud nodded, though he couldn’t meet her eyes. His mind was already at the church, though his feet hadn’t moved an inch. “I...I need to go back out,” he muttered, the words feeling heavy and unnatural on his tongue.

Tifa frowned. “Go back out? You just got home. What’s going on?”

He hesitated. The lie came too easily. “I need to get more healing water from the church. Just in case.”

“In case of what? Cloud... we haven’t seen a Geostigma case in months. Is everything alright?” Her tone was gentle, but her eyes held a hint of doubt. She was always good at reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I know. I just... I want to be prepared,” Cloud insisted, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. The excuse was weak, flimsy, but it was all he had. Tifa sighed, wiping her hands clean, the uncertainty lingering.

"Alright... just don’t be long. The kids were excited to see you."

“I won’t,” he promised, even though he wasn’t sure. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, Cloud turned away before she could ask any more questions. With a few more quick kisses on the cheeks for the kids and goodbyes, he was out the door.

The unease crept under his skin as he left, brushing off the doubts that whispered in the back of his mind. The ride to the church was familiar, but today, it felt different. The closer he got, the heavier the pull became, as if something—someone—was waiting for him. His heart raced, and the rational part of his brain screamed for him to turn around, to go back to the life waiting for him. But his hands stayed steady on the handlebars.

As the church came into view, its weathered form stood against the skyline, still resilient despite the damage from Meteor Fall. The broken roof allowed streams of sunlight to filter through, illuminating the dust-covered pews. But Cloud wasn’t here for the building; his eyes locked on the shrine. The shrine he had built for them. Aerith. Zack.

He approached it slowly, the ethereal glow from the shrine casting soft, shimmering light around the room. Kneeling by the pool of healing water, Cloud pulled out a few empty vials and began to fill them mechanically. The routine gave him something to focus on—something other than the ache in his chest.

“Looks like you’re doing alright, huh?”

The voice was so familiar, so vivid, it made Cloud freeze. His grip on the vial tightened as he shut his eyes, letting out a breath. Zack. Of course, it was his imagination—just the way his grief resurfaced when he came here. “Still brooding, huh?” Zack’s voice teased. Cloud could almost see his smirk, that easy confidence.

Cloud scoffed softly, playing along in his mind. “You’re the one who didn’t finish the job,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ve been picking up after you for years now.”

Zack laughed, and it echoed in the empty church. “Yeah, well, I knew you could handle it.”

For a moment, the banter felt comforting, like slipping into an old jacket. The pain was still there, but it was distant, manageable. But then Zack’s tone shifted, growing serious. "Things are about to change, Cloud. You ready for that? Gaia has...a new- beautiful change for you. Just try not panic." Cloud blinked, the words cutting through his fog.

“What are you talking about?”

But Zack didn’t answer. The silence was deafening. Then, a warmth spread over his face, gentle and comforting, but wholly impossible. Cloud’s breath hitched as he opened his eyes.

Aerith.

She was there, cradling his face, her expression soft, her green eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored his own. “You haven’t been imagining it, Cloud,” she whispered, her touch lingering. Cloud’s heart clenched painfully, confusion mixing with a desperate, aching joy.

“Aerith... what do you mean? How is this—?”

Her smile was sad, knowing. “You’re stronger than you think. Zack and I... we’re proud of you.” Before Cloud could respond, the vision began to fade, Zack’s figure appearing beside Aerith, his arm slung casually over her shoulder. Cloud reached out, panic rising in his chest, but they were already slipping away.

“Wait!” His voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. “I didn’t— I didn’t get to say goodbye.” But it was too late. They were gone.

Cloud stood there, alone in the empty church, the glow from the shrine dimming as the sunlight shifted. He looked down, realizing the vials were already full. When had he filled them? His heart pounded in his chest as unease began to creep in. And then it hit him—a sharp, blinding pain that sent him to his knees, gasping for breath. His head felt like it was splitting open, memories crashing over him: Jenova. The Black Materia. Aerith’s death. He clutched his head, the world spinning as the pain consumed him. A single thought pierced through the chaos before everything went black. Is Sephiroth back? And then, nothing.

Cloud drifted weightlessly in the green glow of the Lifestream, his mind submerged in a strange, dreamlike trance. He could feel the pulse of the planet itself, Gaia, resonating through him like a heartbeat. Voices—soft, ancient, and infinite—whispered around him, swirling through the ethereal current. You are Gaia's Champion, they said, their words carried by the souls that had long merged with the planet. But even champions must make sacrifices. Cloud tried to focus, tried to understand, but his thoughts scattered.

"Sephiroth... he can't be allowed to return,” the souls of Gaia answered, their tone both soothing and sorrowful. “But to sever the final link, you must leave. The taint he left in the Lifestream lingers—only by sending you away can we protect the flow of life from his corruption.”

Cloud’s heart tightened. "Leave?"

“The Lifestream is no longer safe for you,” the voices continued. “Your connection to Sephiroth binds him to this place. If he is to return, it will be through you. You must be sent away, far beyond his reach, or all that lives will face his darkness again.”

A heavy silence followed, as if even the planet mourned the decision it had to make. Cloud closed his eyes, feeling weight of Gaia's will pressing on him once more.

Cloud awoke with a start, face-down on the cold stone floor of the church. The smell of flowers and dust filled his lungs as he pushed himself up, blinking against the light filtering in from the broken roof.

For a moment, he wondered if it had all been a dream—Zack and Aerith...Gaia?

He looked around, half expecting the church to feel different, but everything was the same. The pews, the altar, Aerith’s flowers—all untouched. A quiet relief washed over him. Maybe it had been a dream, just a figment of his overactive mind. He shook his head, trying to brush it off. He had promised Tifa he’d be back in time for dinner. He couldn’t let them worry.

As he moved to leave, he paused at the door, offering a soft, whispered goodbye to Zack and Aerith. With one last glance, he stepped out into the open air. And froze.

Midgar.

The towering, oppressive metal sky loomed over him, casting long shadows.

Cloud’s breath caught in his throat as his heart raced. Steel structures clawing at the dark sky. Sickly green light pulsed from the Mako reactors, illuminating the crumbling sectors below. Above, the upper city gleamed, untouched by the beneath. The Shinra Headquarters loomed in the distance, a dark, monolithic reminder of its power.

Cloud stood, haunted by the echoes of his future mixed with this past. Midgar was destroyed. His mind reeled. The healing pond, the shrine—it wasn’t there. Something was wrong. Cloud stood frozen, speechless, as the realization hit him like a freight train.

Gaia’s warning wasn’t a dream.

Chapter Text

Cloud crouched flat on the cold, cracked pavement, staring blankly at the plate above him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen that monstrous hunk of metal. Normally, it was a broken reminder of the destruction Midgar endured. But this time? This time it was intact. Pristine, even.

He blinked. Nothing changed. The plate, which he had definitely checked was half-buried in the church’s yard not long ago, now hung in the sky like some cruel mockery of the past. The sunlamps overhead hummed like the worst kind of nostalgia. Like being trapped in a dream, and not the good kind. The "trapped" part was key here.

“This isn’t my Midgar,” he muttered, voice hoarse as the realization settled in.

A weight pulled at his chest, tightening with every thought. Tifa. Marlene. Denzel. His family. His friends. All of them, gone. Not dead, no — just... unreachable. And promises, countless promises, cracked under the weight of this eerie new world. He couldn’t keep any of them now.

Vincent’s brooding silence, Yuffie’s relentless energy, Barret’s booming laugh—gone. There were no simple joys left to grasp onto, no hope that this might be some strange dream he’d wake up from. Instead, there was just loss. Denzel. The boy’s name echoed in his mind like an accusation, reminding him of what he was supposed to be doing: protecting, caring for them. But not here. Not now.

Suddenly, Cloud found himself clawing at the dirt, as if by some insane miracle, he might dig his way back to that world—to his world. He was on autopilot now, actions not entirely making sense to even him. The cold earth offered no answers, though, only more questions. He let his hands fall uselessly by his sides.

“Cloud…”

He froze. The voice was distant but familiar, reverberating in his skull, telling him he’d have to let go of the past, for now at least. His strength, the voice claimed, would be needed again. As if that hadn’t been his entire existence so far—fighting one battle after another, trying not to break under the weight of his own failures.

Eventually, he stood, numbness settling into his bones. There wasn’t time for wallowing; he knew that. There never was. Midgar—this strange, wrong version of Midgar—needed something from him, though he wasn’t sure what. But maybe if he threw himself into it, if he worked, the pain would dull.

He walked off, setting his sights on this unfamiliar city, a place that felt like home but... wasn’t. Not anymore.

As Cloud walked, his mind still tried to wrap around the absurdity of it all. The plate, the city, the people—all seemed too familiar. He hadn’t had the luxury of riding into this nightmare on Fenrir, either. His trusty bike was nowhere to be found. Which meant more time alone with his thoughts. Great.

His boots kicked up dust as he made his way toward the Sector 5 slums. The walk felt strange, like it shouldn’t have taken this little time. He almost forgot how the slums once looked, teeming with life despite their bleakness. But this version of Midgar? No monsters in sight. Odd. Shouldn't there have been something to fight, something to distract him?

Cloud glanced around, noticing the subtle differences but, somehow, it was too close to the real thing. The derelict pipe slide came into view, the same one where Aerith used to play as a child. Aerith. The memory stung. He could almost imagine her again, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, laughing, trying to lead him somewhere, and him following like an idiot.

“Familiar, but not quite known,” Gaia’s voice echoed again. So this was it? Some bizarro world with eerie Midgar parallels? He’d never been a fan of riddles.

He passed the station next, eyes narrowing at a giant Shinra billboard plastered with some nonsense about “helping Midgar rebuild.” Right. Helping. Like they hadn’t had their hands all over the chaos from the beginning. He couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity of it, though no one else seemed to notice. The people here walked around as if nothing had ever gone wrong, as if Meteor hadn’t nearly wiped them all out.

Cloud shook his head, cynicism creeping in.

But then, her words echoed again

Come on, let’s go Bodyguard!—Aerith’s words

—and the ache in his chest returned tenfold. He silently vowed that if she was out there in this twisted Midgar, no matter how wrong it all felt, he’d find her. He owed her that much. Even if she didn’t know him in this version of reality, he would protect her. The problem? He had no idea how.

Cloud’s thoughts drifted back to his enemies: Sephiroth, Jenova, Hojo… The list was depressingly long. He had no idea where any of them were, but something told him this wasn’t over. It never was. Sephiroth—always Sephiroth—and his twisted games, dragging Cloud back into madness time and again.

And then there was Zack. His name slipped into Cloud’s mind as he overheard a couple of SOLDIERs whispering about an upcoming mission to Nibelheim.

Cloud’s stomach twisted. No. Not again. He couldn’t let it all happen again. Sephiroth hadn’t fallen yet in this world, but Cloud knew it was just a matter of time before the man’s mind snapped, and that tragedy began its bloody cycle once more. But now, he had the chance to change things.

He wasn’t the same person he was back then. No, he was older, wiser, with far too many scars—both visible and not—to make the same mistakes. If Zack was still out there... if a younger version of himself was running around somewhere in this warped timeline, he had to stop it. He had to make sure the past didn’t repeat itself.

Lost in thought, Cloud didn’t notice the two SOLDIERs staring at him until one of them cleared his throat, eyeing him warily.

“Hey, you—what are you doing around here?”

Cloud froze, caught off-guard by the familiarity of one of the men’s faces. Honey-brown hair, mako-blue eyes—something tugged at his memory, something from long ago. Zack’s voice flickered through his thoughts, a faint echo of a friend’s introduction. The memory slipped through his grasp before he could catch it.

Cloud did his best to keep his cool, quickly mumbling something about being a delivery boy looking for a mechanic. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was the one he had.

The SOLDIERs exchanged confused glances but eventually let him go. Cloud walked off, head spinning with a hundred questions, but grateful not to be pursued. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that this world was playing by its own rules, and he was already dangerously close to getting caught up in them.

Not yet. Not this time.

Chapter Text

Kunsel stood frozen in place, staring at the empty street where Cloud had disappeared moments before. His helmet slipped out of his hand, but he barely noticed. His mind was far too busy trying to process what he'd just witnessed. Cloud Strife. Walking. Alive. How? How was that even possible?

"Kunsel?" Luxiere’s voice snapped him out of his daze, but the shock was shared. Luxiere, still gripping the railing of the nearby bridge for support, looked like he’d seen a ghost. Which, frankly, made sense, because Cloud had been dead for years. Zack had been hollow after losing him, and no one could have imagined—no, believed—Cloud would ever be seen again. Especially here, in the slums.

"Tell me you saw that too," Luxiere whispered, though his voice shook behind the visor of his helmet.

"I saw it," Kunsel muttered, running a hand through his hair. His mind raced, flicking through memories. The last time Cloud was alive, he’d been... well, dead. Buried. Nibelheim. Years ago.

Zack had barely held it together when he lost Cloud. Kunsel had watched his friend spiral, emotionally wrecked. And now, Cloud was here, wandering around Midgar like it was just another Tuesday?

"I—" Kunsel stammered, heart thudding in his chest. His first instinct was to find someone, anyone who might know what the hell was going on. "We need to tell someone." He looked at Luxiere, expecting his friend to be thinking the same thing.

"Zack?" Luxiere suggested hesitantly.

Kunsel blanched. "You wanna tell Zack? Today? It’s the anniversary of Cloud’s death. The last thing we should do is—" He stopped short, the panic twisting tighter in his gut. How do you tell someone that the person they’ve been mourning for years, is just… walking around?

"No." Kunsel’s hands fumbled for his PHS, fingers trembling. "Not Zack." He scrolled through his contacts, knowing there was only one other person who might understand, even if it was a long shot. With a deep breath, he dialed Tseng.

The phone barely rang once before the leader of the Turks answered. "Tseng."

Kunsel inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. "It's—It's Kunsel," he started, words rushing out in a panic. "I—I just saw Cloud. I swear, it was him, glowing eyes, sword—he looked like—like he’d stepped out of some weird dream or—or—he had this massive sword, swords?. He—"

"Kunsel." Tseng’s voice cut through the rambling —calm, direct, and blunt. "Take a breath. Explain the situation more clearly."

Kunsel swallowed, forcing his panic down as best he could. "Cloud is alive, Tseng. He was here in the slums, walking around. It—it makes no sense, but I saw him with my own eyes. Cloud Strife."

There was a long, measured pause on the other end. "Understood. I’ll handle it from here. Keep this quiet."

The line went dead.

Cloud paced at the edge of the slums, staring at a cobbled-together mechanic shop. Made of rusting sheet metal, plywood that had seen better days, and reinforced by makeshift beams, it was the kind of structure that had no right still standing, but somehow, it did. Inside, old car parts, half-dismantled engines, and tools were scattered everywhere. In the center sat a yellowing pickup truck, its doors wide open, a tool cart nearby.

Cloud’s eyes lingered on the truck longer than they should have. Stealing it wouldn’t have been hard. Old habits from his Shinra days tugged at the back of his mind, but he pushed them away. These people probably needed it more than he did, scraping by with what little they had. He had no right to take from them.

For now, he’d just wait.

From inside, the sound of a heated argument drifted out. Cloud tilted his head, listening. He probably shouldn’t, but old habits.

"Walker, you’re a damn fool!" an older voice shouted, hoarse with irritation. "How in Ifrit’s name do you mess up every. Single. Time?"

A younger man, clearly Walker, stormed out of an overturned oil drum they had repurposed as a living space. He clutched an overfilled sack of parts, muttering curses under his breath as he nearly tripped over himself. "I’m trying, old man!" Walker snapped back. "But these damn parts won’t fix themselves!"

Cloud stood awkwardly, watching as Walker stumbled around like a drunk squirrel, almost toppling under the weight of the sack. This was gonna be fun.

Approaching cautiously, Cloud cleared his throat. "You guys open?"

Walker whirled, eyes widening as they fell on Cloud. The first thing that registered was Cloud’s glowing mako eyes. Walker immediately panicked, stumbling backward, dropping the sack, and sending parts skittering across the ground.

"Wh-what the hell?!" Walker gasped, clutching at his chest. His back hit the wall of the makeshift shop as he edged away from Cloud, knocking over a metal cart in the process. Tools clattered to the floor with a deafening crash, sending a spanner skittering across the grimy floor. "Stay—stay back!"

Cloud let out a quiet sigh and raised his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture, though the sword on his back probably didn’t help.

"Relax. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just need a ride to Junon."

"Shop’s closed!" Walker practically squeaked, still looking like a startled animal. He backed up so far he knocked over an entire cart of tools, the clattering sound adding to the chaos.

Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose. This was gonna be harder than it needed to be.

A new voice joined the fray as Zeke, the mechanic, finally made his way out of the drum. He was older, with scruffy gray hair and a permanent scowl etched into his face. "Walker, stop flailin' around like a damn fish outta water." He squinted at Cloud, sizing him up. "You... You ain't one of those punks from before, are ya?"

Cloud blinked. "No. I just need a ride."

Zeke crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "What’s with the eyes, then? You some kinda SOLDIER?"

"No," Cloud replied flatly. "It's mako poisoning. I got over it, thanks to my friends." There was an edge in his voice, a subtle warning that he wasn’t in the mood for another long back-and-forth trying  to explain himself again and again to every slum-dweller about his eyes.

Zeke scratched his chin, squinting at Cloud with a skeptical look. "Mako poisoning, huh? Not many survive that. You must be somethin’ else."

Cloud shrugged. "I’m not."

Walker staggered to his feet, and kept a cautious distance from them—like a stray dog that wasn’t sure if it was about to get kicked. His eyes darted between Cloud and Zeke, his anxiety palpable.  

Zeke sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright." He turned to Cloud. "Look, kid, we’re closed," He scratched his head. "I’m headed to Kalm. Not Junon, but close enough. I could give ya a lift."

Walker, standing off to the side, made a noise halfway between a nervous cough and a whimper. "Uh, Zeke... I don’t think this is a good idea."

"Shut your trap, Walker," Zeke interrupted, not even bothering to look at him.

"But—" 

"Quiet!" Zeke barked, silencing him with a single gesture. "Look, we’re already headed that way. Ain’t like we’re goin’ outta our way for him." He glanced at Cloud, crossing his arms. "Like I said, headed to Kalm, not Junon, if you don’t mind the detour. It’s the best I can offer."

Cloud considered it for a moment. It wasn’t Junon, but it was a step in the right direction. 

"That’ll do."

Walker, still jittery, muttered under his breath, "This is a bad idea. This is such a bad idea." But Zeke didn’t seem to care about Walker’s endless anxiety. He was already focused on preparing for the trip, giving Cloud a once-over as if trying to determine whether this mako-eyed stranger was worth the trouble. Meanwhile, Walker stood to the side, wringing his hands, clearly unconvinced and nervously muttering to himself.

Cloud could feel Walker’s nervous gaze lingering on him, but he chose to ignore it. If anything, Walker’s fear reminded him of the countless others who had looked at him like he was some kind of walking threat. It was all too familiar. But he had no intention of causing trouble.

“So what’s your name kid?”

Cloud’s mind lagged. Name? His brain scrambled, buffering for something to say. 

“Uh, Sky,” he blurted out, cringing inside. Close enough, right?

Zeke raised an eyebrow but chuckled. “Sky, huh? Alright, 'Sky' it is.”

Cloud stayed silent, hoping Zeke would move on.

“Hell, with all the monsters out there, I could use someone who can swing a sword. You protect me, I get you to Kalm. Sounds fair?”

Cloud nodded. "Fair enough."

Zeke grinned, showing too many teeth. “Hope you don’t mind a bumpy ride, Sky.”

Cloud sat silently in the back of the rusted pickup truck as it rattled down the worn, dusty road leading out of Midgar. The towering metal skeleton of the city slowly receded behind him, and with it, the weight of the memories he wished he could leave there too. 

As they passed the ridge where Zack had died, Cloud turned his gaze to the horizon, refusing to look back. The moment always played in his mind, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Zack’s final words haunted him, even now: “You’ll be… my living legacy.” He bit the inside of his cheek, pushing the emotion down, burying it beneath the layers of guilt, loss, and regret that had become all too familiar.

He couldn’t let himself grieve. Not here. Not now.

His focus returned to the present—things will be different this time. He's going to protect Zack from Sephiroth in this strange world, no matter what it took. This time, things would be different. He would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Cloud leaned back against the cold metal of the truck bed, the steady rumble beneath him a distant hum compared to the weight of his thoughts. Sephiroth. The name gnawed at the edges of his mind, pulling him into memories he wished would stay buried. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as his stomach churned. The world outside the truck blurred past, but all Cloud could see were the faces of his friends. 

It had been an hour since either of them had spoken, Walker's eyes glancing at Cloud every few minutes. Cloud could feel his gaze but said nothing at first, too caught up in his own memories. His mind flashed back to the first time he was at Kalm with the others - they needed to rest for the night.

---

It was the first place they had stopped after leaving Midgar. Quiet, unassuming, and far removed from the chaos of the city. The inn was modest, but after what they’d been through, it felt like a reprieve.

Cloud was halfway finished telling the story of Nibelheim. Barret had been the first to break the silence, his voice cutting through the the room. 

“Maybe I’m missin’ somethin’ here, but everything you’ve said makes Sephiroth sound like a stand-up guy.” Barret scratched his head, his eyebrows furrowing.

Cloud exhaled, his jaw tightening for a moment before he spoke again. “He was.”

Barret’s fist clenched, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “And now he’s pure evil. Tryin’ to kill everyone on the damn planet. Help me understand this shit, man!"

The room went silent as Cloud continued. “We went back to the inn after the mission at the reactor. Everything seemed fine. But when we got there… Sephiroth locked himself in his room.”

Tifa chimed in, her voice quieter. “The mayor had been looking forward to having dinner with ‘bona fide SOLDIERS,’ so he didn’t take the news too well. My dad had to listen to him ranting for hours.”

Barret leaned forward, his interest piqued. “And Sephiroth? What happened to him?”

Cloud’s gaze drifted toward the window, as if he could still see the shadow of Sephiroth disappearing into the night. “He left. Didn’t tell anyone where he was going.”

Barret grunted in frustration, but Cloud wasn’t finished. His mind flashed to the Shinra Manor. To Sephiroth, lost in those damned books. The once proud, composed SOLDIER slowly unraveling as he delved deeper into the secrets of his past. 

“It was like something changed in him,” Cloud continued, his voice quieter now. “He locked himself away in the Shinra Manor for days. Reading. Studying. He found something—about Jenova, about his origins—and it broke him. By the time we went back to the reactor, he wasn’t the same. He was… consumed.”

---

Cloud blinked, snapping back to the present. Walker was watching him closely now, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. There was a strange look in Walker’s eyes—curiosity mixed with something Cloud couldn’t quite place.

"Hey, uh... Sky," Walker started, his voice hesitant. "Where you’re from... your friend..or you were ya’ll ever, y’know... curious about your soul mates?"

Cloud frowned slightly, unsure of where Walker was going with this. Soul mates? It wasn’t a term he was familiar with—at least, not in the way Walker seemed to be talking about it. But instead of admitting that, he simply shrugged as if he understood. "Not everyone finds their soulmate," Cloud said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Some go their whole lives without ever encountering them."

Walker’s brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask anything further, Zeke—who had been silent up until now—let out a gruff laugh from the driver’s seat. "Soul mates, huh?" he muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. "So you’re telling me no one where you’re from has ever met their soul mate? Absolutely no one?"

Cloud hesitated, feeling the weight of Zeke’s question. His mind raced for an explanation, and in the moment, he decided to double down on his vague response. "I grew up in a... very remote village," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "Most people would never even find it in the mountains." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Cloud wanted to smack himself. First his name, now this convincing excuse. He had no idea what soul mates really meant in this world, but he didn’t want to give away his ignorance.

Zeke snorted, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t press the issue further. "Yeah, sure. Sounds like a hell of a place, kid."

Cloud just nodded, letting the silence stretch out as he mentally kicked himself for fumbling through the conversation. He could feel Walker’s eyes still on him, but when he glanced over, the nervousness had returned to the man’s face. 

Walker shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his own guilt hanging between them. "I—I use to wonder about mine..but not after everything that happened."

Cloud raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to Walker’s words. 

His mind wandered back to their first encounter. The way Walker had reacted then… he had seemed terrified, almost irrationally so.

“Wh-what the hell?!” Walker’s voice had been shaky, and his eyes wide with fear as he backed himself into the wall of that makeshift shop. The sound of tools crashing to the floor as he scrambled to put distance between them still echoed in Cloud’s mind. He hadn’t even drawn his sword, yet Walker had reacted like Cloud was about to kill him on sight.

Cloud remembered letting out a quiet sigh, trying to calm the man down, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Relax. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just need a ride to Junon."

Cloud had chalked it up to the usual fear people had of SOLDIERs—mako eyes, the rumors about Sephiroth’s rampage, the unsettling power they were known for. People feared what they didn’t understand. But there had been something different about Walker’s fear. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Walker hesitated before speaking again, his voice cracking with emotion. “That person I hurt...back when I was a trooper. I never got the chance to apologize. He died, Sky. Because of me.”

The admission hung in the air, thick with guilt. Cloud knew that feeling all too well. His eyes softened as he looked at Walker, his voice quiet but understanding. “I know what it’s like to carry that. To wish you could make things right.”

Walker glanced up, surprised by Cloud’s empathy. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the shared weight of their regrets filling the space between them.

Before either of them could speak again, the truck jerked violently. 

“Shit!” Zeke's voice crackled, panicked. “We’ve got company!”

Walker scrambled to his feet, fumbling for his weapon. Cloud followed suit, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. He scanned the horizon, eyes narrowing as he spotted the approaching Behemoths—massive, snarling beasts tearing through the landscape.

“Got your big ass sword ready?!” Zeke shouted, fear rising in his voice. “They’re too close!”

Cloud's grip tightened on Tsuragi, his body coiled with tension as his eyes locked onto two 3rd Class SOLDIERs struggling to fend off a pack of Behemoths. They were protecting a red-clad figure lying on the ground, and something about the crimson coat tugged at Cloud’s memory—but there was no time to dwell on it.

The SOLDIERs were faltering, their movements sluggish, while the Behemoths were closing in with deadly intent. Cloud steadied his breath, and with a swift motion, he readied his sword.

“Already ahead of you,” Cloud muttered, drawing a second sword. “Let's mosey.”

Chapter Text

“Get your rifle out, boy!” Zeke hollered, a cackle rising in his voice. 

Walker, rifle in hand, looked nervously at Cloud. “You think we should… I dunno, maybe hang back?”

Cloud ignored the question, his focus locked on the scene ahead. 

The Behemoths were getting closer, their claws tearing through the dirt as they charged. The SOLDIERs were barely holding their ground. Cloud let out a slow breath, his grip on Tsurugi tightening.

Zeke leaned out of the window, his face wild with excitement. “What do ya say, Sky? You want us to soften ‘em up a bit? Walker’s got a good shot on him, don’t ya boy?”

Walker, still pale but gripping his rifle, nodded stiffly. “Uh, yeah, I guess I can—”

“No.” Cloud’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and certain.

Zeke squinted at Cloud, clearly unimpressed. “What do ya mean, no? We’re sittin’ ducks if we don’t—”

“Don’t do anything,” Cloud interrupted, his tone firm. “Just get me as close as possible. Then keep driving. Head straight to Kalm. I’ll handle the Behemoths.”

Zeke blinked, his face twisting into a mix of irritation and amusement. “You really think you’re gonna take down those monsters alone? You don’t even want a little backup?”

Cloud’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Backup’s more of a liability in this case.”

Walker looked between his father and Cloud, his grip on the rifle tightening. “Old man, maybe we should listen to him—he knows what he’s doing.”

“Pah!” Zeke snorted, yanking the steering wheel hard to the left as the truck sped toward the Behemoths. “I ain't drivin’ all the way out here just to let some cocky blond kid do the heavy liftin’ while we sit pretty.”

Cloud’s smirk vanished, his gaze hardening. “This isn’t a fight you can win, Zeke. Not with a rifle. Get me close, then get out.”

The old man growled under his breath but didn’t argue further. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel tighter. “You’re crazy boy, but this was the deal. I’ll get ya close.”

The truck rumbled forward, gaining speed as it careened toward the battlefield. Cloud stood at the back, watching the distance close between them and the pack of Behemoths. The beasts were massive, their thick, scaly hides reflecting the setting sun. 

Walker adjusted his rifle nervously, casting a glance at his father, “Are you seriously okay with this? Just letting him go in alone?”

Zeke shot him a sidelong glance. “Boy, that blond fool wants to play hero, let him. Me? I’m just glad we’re not endin’up a lunch pack for those beasts.”

Walker grimaced but nodded, trusting his father’s instincts. “Right… okay.”

Cloud caught their exchange and sighed, “Just focus on driving. Get me close, and then you’re out. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it!” Zeke called back, the truck now barreling toward the nearest Behemoth. “You just make sure you don’t get squashed, kid!”

Cloud didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the battlefield, already planning his approach. The two SOLDIERs were barely holding on, their swords clashing uselessly against the Behemoths’ thick hides. One of the monsters swung a massive paw, sending one of the SOLDIERs flying through the air. The other staggered back, trying to defend the unconscious man in red, but he was losing ground fast.

Cloud watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of irritation. SOLDIERs—always thinking brute strength was enough. No strategy, no coordination. It was like watching cadets fumble through their first real fight. 

The truck screeched to a halt just as Cloud signaled for Zeke to stop. “This is close enough,” Cloud said, his voice low. He jumped down from the truck bed, Tsurugi already in hand.

Walker leaned out of the truck, gripping his rifle as he watched Cloud stride toward the Behemoths. “Sky, are you sure about this?”

Cloud glanced over his shoulder, giving Walker a brief nod. “Go. Get to Kalm. Thanks for the ride.”

Walker hesitated for a moment, but Zeke was already revving the engine again. “You heard him, boy. We’ve done our part. Time to let the kiddo do his.”

With that, the truck peeled away, leaving Cloud standing alone against the hulking monsters. He squared his shoulders, Tsurugi gleaming in the fading light. The nearest Behemoth noticed him then, its red eyes locking onto the lone figure. It growled low, a deep rumble that shook the ground beneath Cloud’s feet.

“Let’s see how tough you really are,” Cloud muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a grim smile.

The Behemoth charged, claws tearing through the earth as it barreled toward him. Cloud’s body coiled with anticipation, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. He waited, biding his time until the Behemoth was just a few feet away.

Then, with a fluid motion, Cloud dodged to the side, Tsurugi slashing through the air in a wide arc. The blade connected with the Behemoth’s thick hide, sending sparks flying. The monster roared in pain, stumbling as Cloud's blade bit deep into its flank.

The beast swung its massive paw in retaliation, but Cloud was already moving. He ducked low, narrowly avoiding the blow, then sprang up, bringing his sword down with deadly precision. Another strike, another roar of pain from the Behemoth. Blood sprayed from the wound, splattering the ground in dark streaks.

Cloud pressed the attack, his strikes quick and relentless. The Behemoth tried to fight back, but it was too slow, too predictable. Cloud was always one step ahead, dodging and weaving through its attacks like a seasoned predator. Each swing of Tsurugi chipped away at the creature’s defenses, leaving it bloodied and staggering.

In the distance, the other Behemoths began to stir, noticing their comrade’s struggle. Cloud spared them a glance, his mind racing. He couldn’t take all of them at once, but if he finished the first one quickly…

With a final, brutal strike, Cloud drove Tsurugi deep into the Behemoth’s chest. The beast let out a final, agonized roar before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Cloud ripped his sword free, breathing heavily but steady. One down. Three more to go. 

 He charged.

Cloud’s blade arced through the air, landing a heavy blow on the Behemoth’s thick hide, the shock vibrating up his arms. He jumped back, landing on his feet with practiced ease. Despite the adrenaline coursing through him, he couldn’t help but notice something different—how much easier it felt compared to past battles. His mind flickered back to Bahamut Sin, the titanic beast whose power dwarfed any of these hulking creatures. That was a real fight, he thought, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth reminded of the efforts and coordination his friends put in to win. But before the memory could settle, he shifted his focus. Now's not the time.

As he recovered from the leap, the world tilted sharply. Cloud clenched his jaw, his stomach lurching in protest. The nausea hit him like a wave, and for a split second, the battlefield blurred. He stumbled, trying to will his body back under control. What the hell? His hand instinctively pressed against his stomach. The sensation was all too familiar—motion sickness. The kind Yuffie had always complained about. He half-chuckled, imagining her making a snide comment if she could see him now. But there was no time to dwell on it.

The distraction lasted longer than it should have, long enough for him to forget about the Behemoths entirely. A sharp yell from behind snapped him back into reality. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”

A 3rd Class SOLDIER, his voice drenched in disbelief, pulled Cloud’s attention to the looming danger. The Behemoth, despite the injury Cloud had dealt it, was far from finished. Its massive, one-horned head swung towards him, and its barbed tail lashed out with brutal speed. Cloud cursed under his breath, barely rolling out of the way in time. The tail struck the ground where he’d stood moments before, leaving deep scars in the earth.

Stop daydreaming Strife, Cloud scolded himself, irritation bubbling beneath his calm exterior. 

“You’re welcome!” Cloud shouted over his shoulder, sarcasm lacing his voice. “I’m saving your lives here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

One of the injured SOLDIERs grimaced, clearly unimpressed. “Saving us? You’re getting in our way!”

Cloud stood, shaking off the dizziness, readying his blade once more. He turned to face the disgruntled SOLDIERs, his voice dry with mock sympathy. “Oh, sorry. My bad. Guess I forgot to mention—motion sickness. It happens.” He cast a quick glance at the SOLDIER who had taken the worst hit, “But hey, at least I’m not the one who’s half-dead.”

The SOLDIER sputtered in protest, but Cloud had already tuned him out. His focus returned to the Behemoth, who wasn’t going to wait for him to finish quipping. The beast’s glowing eyes tracked Cloud, calculating its next move. Its enormous body tensed, ready to charge again.

This time, Cloud was ready.

The Behemoth lunged, its injured leg dragging slightly but still managing surprising speed. Cloud dodged to the side as the beast’s paw swiped at him, and in a fluid motion, his sword found purchase in its flesh. A deep gash opened along the creature’s side, blood pouring from the wound. The Behemoth let out a deafening roar, stumbling as it tried to regain its balance.

Cloud’s eyes flicked to the two other Behemoths, their glowing yellow eyes fixed on him. They moved cautiously, circling their fallen comrade. Their movements were slow, deliberate. Either they were trying to intimidate him, or they were smarter than they looked, trying to box him in. 

“Great,” Cloud muttered under his breath, “Shiva’s tits. Why couldn’t it be something easier, like Hedgehog Pies or Mus?”

The ground shook as the largest of the Behemoths charged forward, its massive form blotting out the sky for a moment. Cloud darted out of the way just as it barreled past, barely missing him. He countered, his sword flashing in a precise strike aimed at the creature’s exposed side, but the beast twisted at the last second. The blade skimmed across its thick hide, leaving only a shallow cut.

They were taking turns now, each Behemoth attacking in a rhythm that forced Cloud on the defensive. He couldn’t land a killing blow—there was never enough time. As he dodged and weaved between their attacks, he felt a pang of something like nostalgia. The coordination between the beasts was almost reminiscent of the teamwork he once had with his friends—Barret’s heavy artillery fire covering his flanks, Tifa’s fists flying in brutal combos, Aerith unleashing thunderstorms of spells. A bitter thought crossed his mind.

Those days are long gone.

Cloud shook the thought away. He couldn’t afford that kind of distraction right now. 

“I can help!” one of the SOLDIERs shouted. Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw the man raising his hands, gathering magic. A sense of dread washed over him.

“Wait, don’t—!” Cloud’s voice cracked like a whip.

The SOLDIER hesitated, confused. “What?”

“Behemoths! Their horns counter magic with a Mega Flare!” Cloud barked, frustration seeping into his voice. “You cast a spell, and we’ll all be toast.”

The SOLDIER looked bewildered, clearly not having been briefed on the basics. Cloud groaned inwardly. Shinra really needs to up their training program.

“Just stay out of my way,” Cloud grumbled, turning his attention back to the remaining Behemoths. “If you want to help, don’t get yourself killed.”

The Behemoths weren’t going to wait for another explanation. They circled tighter, one preparing to charge, the two stalking closer. 

Cloud stood poised, his grip tight on Tsurugi, eyes locked on the Behemoth ahead of him. He could feel the tension in the air, the kind that made his senses sharpen, his breath steady. He was ready to strike. He feinted right, aiming for an opening on the beast’s side. 

Just as he moved, the Behemoth dug its horns into the ground, sending a spray of dirt into the air, blinding Cloud for a moment. The creature used the distraction to retreat, leaving Cloud gritting his teeth in frustration.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, Cloud thought bitterly, wiping the grime from his eyes. Without missing a beat, he lunged at the Behemoth he’d mentally dubbed  ‘Goldilocks,’ a term Cid would no doubt use if he were here.

Cloud planned his strike, preparing to dodge and attack in one swift motion when—

Bang!

The sudden sound of a gunshot froze him mid-swing. His sword hung in the air as he registered what had happened. That reaction might’ve gotten him skewered if he were fighting Sephiroth, but thankfully, Goldilocks was just as startled. The bullet had hit the beast’s neck, lodging itself into its thick hide, causing purple blood to seep from the wound.

The Behemoth thrashed its head, trying in vain to shake loose the projectile, but the bullet was stuck deep. For a moment, Cloud’s frustration shifted to curiosity. He glanced around the battlefield, his sharp eyes scanning for the shooter.

Zeke and Walker are long gone, right? None of the nearby SOLDIERs had guns, and they certainly weren't in position to make a shot like that.

Then Cloud heard it—the unmistakable rumble of an engine, low and constant, rising above the snarling Behemoths. He whipped his head toward the noise and spotted a yellow pickup truck barreling through the dust. Walker was crouched in the bed, rifle braced against the side of the vehicle, his eyes locked on the Behemoths.

They didn’t leave? Cloud realized, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. His moment of surprise faded quickly as the ground trembled beneath him. The largest Behemoth, now aware of the truck, pawed the earth with fury, preparing to charge. Its massive body tensed, and Cloud could see the sheer power rippling through the creature’s frame.

“Dammit, they’re gonna get themselves killed!”

Just as Cloud prepared to move, another gunshot echoed across the battlefield. This one hit its mark even more precisely. The large Behemoth let out a deafening screech as it staggered back, blood spraying from a gaping wound in its eye. The shot was perfect—blinding the beast in one swift strike.

Cloud stared at the Behemoth, then back at Walker, who was calmly reloading his rifle. “Damn,” Cloud muttered to himself, a reluctant sense of respect creeping in. Zeke wasn’t lying when he said Walker was a good shot. In fact, Cloud figured Walker could give Vincent a run for his gil with shooting skills like that.

But there was no time to admire the hit. The Behemoth, half-blind and enraged, was now thrashing in wild, unpredictable movements, its remaining eye locked on the truck. Cloud tightened his grip on his sword and took a steady breath.

This ends now.

In one fluid motion, he leaped forward, charging headlong toward the Behemoth. 

As the cacophony of the battle raged for a brief moment his mind raced even faster than his heartbeat. Amid the chaos, came surging back with the memories of the people he had failed—the lives lost in another time, another place.

Zack. Aerith. Avalanche. 

They weren’t from this world, yet in his heart, they were just as real as ever. Despite everything, they didn’t know him here; they never could. That knowledge weighed heavily on him. Still, Cloud knew his fight was not for himself. It was for them—the people he loved and lost, the friends who had shaped him, and those he still carried with him. He had to protect them. No matter what world he found himself in.

The memories of Aerith’s mistreatment at the hands of Hojo burned in his mind, he wouldn't allow that again. Zack too, had suffered too much. This time, Cloud would be their protector, even if it meant facing the worst. 

Behemoth thrashed wildly, its rage amplified after losing an eye. It was distracted, furious. And as its two smaller comrades growled at the departing truck, Cloud saw the opening. 

Without hesitation, he charged. With an effortless leap, he used the back of one of the smaller Behemoths as a springboard. Vaulting through the air, he somersaulted and landed atop the largest Behemoth, slamming Tsurugi down with deadly precision.

The creature roared, its cry echoing through the battlefield as Cloud’s blade sunk deep into its back. Cloud didn’t flinch. He drove the sword further in, twisting it as the beast’s life drained away. He slit its throat swiftly, ending its misery. Even as the death cry grew pitiful, Cloud’s focus remained unshaken.

Goldilocks was dead. There were still two more.

Turning sharply, Cloud set his gaze on the remaining Behemoths, their fury evident as they pawed at the ground, still in shock from their comrade’s fall. He couldn’t give them time to recover, not with the stakes so high. With a deep breath, he tapped into the reservoir of strength buried deep within him. The familiar hum of power surged through his veins.

The blue light enveloped him, his Limit Break activated.

His target locked, the underhand swing of his blade connecting with force, sent the Behemoth crashing to the ground. The creature barely had time to react as Cloud unleashed his Omnislash, carving deep into its underbelly with brutal precision. He finished it with one final, decisive strike across its throat, and the beast slumped, lifeless.

One more. 

The last Behemoth, the most enraged, reared up in defiance. It raised its mighty arms, intent on crushing Cloud beneath its sheer weight. But in its rage, it made a fatal error—it exposed its vulnerable underbelly.

Cloud had seen that mistake before. He lunged forward without hesitation, burying Tsurugi deep into the creature’s gut. His Limit Break flared again, sending a shockwave of power through the beast as Cloud cleaved through its organs. With a final, devastating Climhazzard, he tore the Behemoth apart from the inside. The massive creature fell with a thunderous crash, defeated.

Cloud landed lightly on his feet as the last echo of battle faded. One of the 3rd Class SOLDIERs gasped, awestruck by the display of power, but Cloud didn’t turn to face them. His mind was elsewhere. The physical strain of the fight paled in comparison to the emotional exhaustion that clawed at him at the remember of his memories.

But Cloud didn’t have time to dwell on that. The Behemoths were dead, but there were still people to look after. He glanced back at the SOLDIERs, their eyes wide and filled with questions. They were staring at him—no, at his glowing eyes, the mark of someone who’d been exposed to mako, of someone with a SOLDIER’s enhanced abilities.

“I’m not a SOLDIER,” Cloud muttered, cutting off their questions before they could ask. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Instead, he pointed to one of the 3rd Class SOLDIERs, a young man struggling to stay upright, his injuries more severe than the others. Guilt gnawed at Cloud’s conscience. He should’ve acted sooner.

He walked over to the injured man, noticing the red-clad 1st Class SOLDIER lying beside him. The man’s snow-white hair and cracked, ashen skin were deeply unsettling, and the gashes across his side told the story of a vicious attack. As Cloud knelt to inspect him, one of the 3rd Class SOLDIERs, Ryu, stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Ryu challenged, blocking Cloud’s path.

Cloud, irritated by the interruption, shot him a glare. “Trying to save his life. It’s obvious none of you can - especially you.”

Ryu’s face reddened, but before he could fire back, The other 3rd Class SOLDIER, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let him help. We don’t want to explain to Commander Hewley why his mate died on our watch.”

With a reluctant nod, Ryu stepped aside, and Cloud knelt beside the injured man. Up close, the deep claw marks were obvious, but what caught Cloud’s attention were the strange scorch marks around the wounds. Something wasn’t right.

“Do you have Scan materia?” Cloud asked the 3rds. Ryu reluctantly handed him the materia, albeit with some confusion. Cloud activated it, and the readings were disturbing. The man’s body showed extreme signs of aging and decay despite his strength, reminding Cloud of Sephiroth’s clones.

Cloud frowned. “Is he… a clone?”

As Cloud knelt beside the dying man, he noticed something about him felt eerily familiar, as though Cloud had crossed paths with him before, yet the memory was just out of reach.

Suddenly, his eyes focused on Cloud, and a strange expression washed over his face—one of awe, almost reverence. “Little bird,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Cloud blinked, unsure of how to respond.

"Who are you?" Cloud asked, his voice low and edged with uncertainty.

The man stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering. "I am the great..." he rasped, his sentence a struggle to finish.

Cloud felt an inexplicable pull—memories he couldn't quite grasp, but ones that seemed buried deep in the haze of his past.

Genesis, a voice echoed to him, the name stirring something within him, though he couldn't pinpoint what.

Suddenly an onslaught of images flashed - of a figure in red, poetry spoken aloud, and an endless obsession with something he couldn't quite remember. Yet it was all fragmented, incomplete.

Genesis gazed up at Cloud, his voice softening. "Have you come to collect me at the end?"

Cloud frowned, feeling the weight of those words, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "I … you... but you feel—" Cloud paused, frustrated with the lack of clarity. "You feel like someone I should know."

Genesis gave a weak smile, his breathing shallow. "The Goddess ….has given me… this blessing .. for our paths have crossed... in a place beyond this moment."

Cloud didn't reply, but the sense of déjà vu gnawed at him, unsettling and persistent.

Behind him, the other 3rd Class SOLDIERs were finally stepping forward. The first one, Ryu, spoke up with an annoyed huff, but there was a mix of awe and suspicion in his tone. "Can you help him?"

Cloud gave him a quick glance, his focus still on Genesis. "Yeah," 

Shaking his head, he quickly got to work.

Chapter Text

The distant rumble of a truck engine broke through the chaos of the battlefield.  “You alright kid!?”

Cloud glanced up just in time to see Walker and Zeke’s vehicle screeching to a halt, dust swirling around them as Zeke leaped out, urgency etched on his face.

“I’m fine, need to help him.” Cloud replied, his voice sharp. “We’re trying to stabilize him.” He gestured toward the fallen SOLDIER, who lay crumpled on the ground, his white hair stark against the dirt.

Genesis

Kneeling beside the dying man, Cloud held up the scan material he received from the 3rd class soldier, he felt the weight of Genesis’s injuries pressing down like a vice.

“Oh thy blessed - the Goddess…” the man breathed reverently, his lips trembling. “She has ..shown my….Little bird… perhaps - my deliverance …to the lifestream?”

Cloud blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Little… what?” He searched the man’s face for any signs of head trauma, trying to shake off the disorienting aura around him. The Scan had shown he was not fine, He was slowly bleeding out from the half-cauterized claw marks on his side., there was signs of decay as well “What happened to you…?”

The white-haired man chuckled, a sound that seemed out of place amid the chaos. “Tweet for me my… little bird, it always ruffled your feathers… when I call you that.”

“Uh… what?” Cloud felt a flush creeping up his cheeks, but he shook his head to dispel it.   Focus. He’s clearly delirious.

“Oh, my dear…” the stranger murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, reluctant to divulge why he referred to Cloud as a bird. “I never imagined… I’d stand before you again…” His fingers cling tightly to Cloud’s sweater, a desperate grip as if fearing that letting go would cause Cloud to vanish. “You’ve always… been far too gracious… far too gracious… to a weary soul like mine… I don’t… I don’t deserve your generosity… yet I will savor it… ravenously… like a parched man longing for water…”

“You’re talking a lot..for a dying man…” Cloud retorted dryly, trying to mask his discomfort, unsure how else to handle this exceedingly strange conversation.

Yet those mako-blue eyes remained locked on him, warmth etched across the man’s face. “I’ve missed you so much… your sharp tongue… your irreverent charm—” He paused, a triumphant smile breaking through, as if Cloud had unwittingly played into his scheme. “And… what I would give, my love… to hold you… in my arms once more… to hear you whispering… my name again…”

Cloud’s eyes widened, completely taken aback. “O-Okay! I get it!” Cloud winced, needing an escape route right now when he heard awkward coughs behind him. He forgot about the rest of current company.

“—in pleasure,” the man finished, winking with a seductive confidence that seemed almost surreal given his condition. “You always… were an easy blush…” His gaze softened, blissfully unaware of Cloud’s mounting embarrassment. “I’m relieved… that hasn’t changed…”

Heat flooded Cloud’s face. He’s flirting while bleeding out? By ifrit’s horn someone knock him out. He knew he should focus on the life-threatening wounds, but this bizarre moment …

“Look. You’re hurt. Can you just stop talking for a moment so I can assess your injuries—”

“Your eyes…” the SOLDIER interrupted, drawing in a shaky breath that ignited alarm within Cloud. “Your eyes… Oh, my little bird… How I’ve yearned… to see them shine like that…” His hand began a slow, trembling ascent up Cloud’s chest, as if tracing a path to something far more intimate. Cloud felt the instinct to pull away, but he was paralyzed, barely daring to breathe.

“… You’re breathtaking…”

Cloud tried to ignore him to look at his injuries. His eyes lowered to the man’s bloody  hand on his chest - and he stiffened.

‘You’ll be… my living legacy.’

As the memories surged through him, Cloud was transported back to that final moment. He stared down at his hands, trembling and stained with the crimson remnants of Zack's life, the vivid blood contrasting starkly against his skin. Zack's bloody hands had thrust the sword to his chest.

“Z-Zack...” he murmured, panic rising in his throat as the reality of the scene sank in.

“For the both of us...” Zack’s voice, though faint, carried  weight.

“Both...of us...?”

“That's right. You're gonna... You're gonna...” Zack’s strength faltered, but his resolve burned brighter than ever, even as his life ebbed away. “...live. You'll be...my living legacy. My honor, my dreams...they're yours now.”

Cloud’s heart pounded as he absorbed the gravity of those words, but all he could focus on was the blood—Zack’s blood—soaking into his hands.

His hands let the blade as they went slack. “I’m...your living legacy.”

Genesis’s hand slipped down as he smiled at Cloud, and that single gesture shattered his resolve. “Z-Zack…?” he croaked, the name escaping him before he could stop it.

The man scoffed beneath him, dragging Cloud back to the present with the sound alone. “I’m dying …the great genesis …is dying in front of you,” the man growled, eyes narrowing. “All you can think about… is the Puppy.”

Cloud realized that tone—it’s teasing, yet frustrated . This isn’t Zack , he reminded himself. But the abrupt shift from Zack’s presence to this stranger’s fervor left him breathless.

“Goddess… I’m sorry, love…” the man faltered, his scowl melting away to reveal the sorrow pooling in his eyes “I… I shouldn’t have let it come to this… I’m consumed by anger… so much anger.” He brushed away tears that Cloud hadn’t even noticed, and a heavy weight settled in Cloud’s chest—this man was suffering beyond words. “But that’s no excuse… It’s cruel… it’s so cruel of me… to unleash it on you, little one… Even now… even after everything we’ve endured… I can’t seem to stop myself… from hurting you…” His voice trembled, thick with the burden of unspoken guilt. “The others… they refuse to admit it… Not to my face… at least… But I know… I know they must blame me too… For if it weren’t for my failings… you’d still be…”

“Please,let me help you.”

The red SOLDIER hesitated, searching Cloud's eyes as if looking for salvation. When his breath finally steadied, he let his hand fall from his sweater, sinking heavily into the dirt. “Goddess… I’ve never been able to deny you anything… little one…” Cloud grunted, feeling overwhelmed. He needed to act, to pull this man from the abyss. Gently, he lifted the man’s coat over his shoulders, only to hear a moan that echoed with both bliss and agony. “Oh… to feel your hands… on me again…”

“Stop talking,” Cloud snapped, his face burning with embarrassment, a fierce warmth flooding his cheeks.

The man chuckled softly, the sound trembling as it escaped him, and Cloud couldn’t tell if it was born from humor or the weight of his injuries. “Your wish… is my command…”

As Cloud worked in silence, carefully using one of Tsurugi’s blades to cut the man’s uniform open, the urgency of the moment settled around them like a blanket. Every movement felt significant, charged with the weight of unspoken words.

But when Cloud finally pulled the sides of the man’s sweater back, he froze. The deep, dark tendrils creeping from the bandage on his shoulder twisted like shadows, wrapping possessively around his bare chest. “Shit.”

Cloud cursed under his breath, recognizing the signs of Jenova's corruption. His heart raced as he realized what this meant. He could save him, but only if he acted quickly.

“Hang in there,” he murmured, determination flooding his veins. The bizarre flirtation, the confusion—it all faded.

Cloud should have known. The signs had been there for a while—his wounds that refused to heal, his weakened vitality, his decaying body. No black pus oozed from sores yet, but there was no mistaking it: Jenova’s influence. It wasn’t Geostigma, not exactly, but Cloud recognized this all too well. Jenova's taint had a way of lingering, twisting, corrupting in ways that haunted him.

Reno’s careless words from months ago echoed in his mind .

The dim glow of the overhead lights gave Seventh Heaven a quiet, almost peaceful ambiance. It was after hours, the bar was closed, and the only sounds in the room were the soft clinks of glasses and the occasional murmur of conversation. Cloud stood behind the bar, wiping down the last few cups with slow, methodical movements. Upstairs, Tifa was putting Marlene and Denzel to bed, the faint hum of her voice barely audible over the quiet.

At one of the tables, Reno and Rude sat with half-empty glasses, their jackets discarded and ties loosened, a rare moment of relaxation for the two Turks. Reno leaned back in his chair, his feet casually propped up on another, while Rude sat more upright, but still far more at ease than usual.

“This place cleans up nice after hours,” Reno remarked, swirling the last bit of his drink before knocking it back in one swift motion. “You ever think about running a bar, Cloud? Full time, I mean. It suits you, y'know?”

Cloud glanced up from the bar, giving a faint smirk but not replying. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but with the bar empty and the night winding down, he had no reason to hurry Reno and Rude out.

Reno, sensing the lack of conversation, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He looked at Cloud with an expression that was far too serious for a man who had already had more than a few drinks. “Blondie, serious question. Ever heard of SOLDIER degradation?”

Cloud paused, lowering the cup he had been drying, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Degradation?” he asked, his voice low. “What are you talking about?”

Reno raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a grin. “Aw, I’m surprised. Something you don’t know. It’s the dirty little secret of the program, man.”

Cloud’s frown deepened. SOLDIER had many secrets, but this wasn’t something he’d ever heard of. He shook his head slowly. “Never heard of it.”

Before Reno could say anything more, Rude, who had been quietly sipping his drink, leaned forward, his deep voice cutting through the air. “Degradation is what happens when a SOLDIER’s body starts breaking down. Jenova cells… Mako exposure. It eats away at them over time.” He paused, adjusting his sunglasses slightly, though the dim lighting made them unnecessary. “SOLDIERS aren’t invincible. Eventually, their bodies can’t keep up with the enhancements. The cells start to fail, and they… deteriorate.”

Cloud’s grip on the glass tightened slightly. He’d seen the effects of Mako poisoning, the way it could twist and break a person, but degradation… It sounded like a slow, inevitable death, something far worse than any battle he’d faced. His mind flicked to SOLDIERS he knew once upon a time— Roche, Zack, Sephiroth—and the realization that maybe, even if they hadn’t fallen in battle, this degradation could have been waiting for them.

“So,” Reno chimed back in, cutting through the heavy silence, “you’re telling me the great Cloud Strife doesn’t know about this? Damn, man, and here I thought you were Gaia’sChampion.” He leaned back in his chair with a teasing grin, his voice dropping to that familiar mischievous tone. “Would be a damn shame to lose that sexy ass of yours to degradation.”

Cloud went back to wiping down the counter, ignoring the Turk’s comment, but Rude shot his partner a look over his glass. “Reno,” he muttered, a familiar reprimand, one that had been delivered countless times before.

“What?” Reno feigned innocence, throwing his hands up. “I’m just saying! Strife’s got a lot going for him. Be a tragedy if he started falling apart on us.”

The Turk had said it half-jokingly, but now Cloud felt the weight of the truth behind it. The degradation, the slow unraveling—it was happening, just as Rude explained.

Bruises that wouldn’t fade, the tremors running through the man’s body, and the slow decay. The man lying before him might have been a SOLDIER once, but now he was something else. Cloud recognized the influence behind it all. Jenova. Even if this wasn’t the exact same sickness that plagued others, her fingerprints were everywhere.

Cloud grit his teeth, pushing that thought aside. Good thing he had filled those vials of healing water. At the time,it was a terrible excuse used to help him escape giving Tifa an explanatio, but here, in this moment, the terrible excuse felt like a blessing in disguise. New world, new rules, he thought grimly.

He heard a pained grunt from Genesis lying beneath him, another harsh reminder of the urgency of the situation. Cloud opened the case containing the vials, his fingers moving swiftly. “Here,” he muttered, pulling one out. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Normally, Cloud would’ve simply poured the water over the wounds, letting its magic do its work, but this man’s condition was worse than anything he had seen. He wasn’t sure if that would be enough.

The man’s lips curled in a tired smile, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Water won’t help me,” he rasped, voice a fragile echo of what it must have once been. “The only thing that can save me… is the Gift of the Goddess. I’ve searched… another listing of…my failures …”

“Consider this a gift from the Goddess,” Cloud interrupted, surprising himself with how desperate the words sounded. His mind flashed back to Aerith—the way her smile lit up everything around her “Personally delivered by the Planet’s handpicked florist.  She could make flowers grow anywhere in the slums.”

“Flowers… huh…” The SOLDIER’s voice softened, a wistful note threading through his labored breaths. “That sounds… like something - the Puppy’s flower girl.”

Cloud tensed, recognizing the reference. That confirmed it - Aerith was here in this world somewhere. Hopefully in Midgar’s slums, selling her flowers. He swallowed down any rising emotions. He didn’t have time for that. “Please,” Cloud urged, his voice quieter but no less insistent. 

The man blinked slowly, as though considering Cloud’s words. Then, with a weary smile, he said, “For you… I’ll try.” He whispered, his gaze never wavering from Cloud’s, not even to blink as he parted his lips obediently.

Cloud released a shaky breath. What was it about this man that made him feel so… unsettled? He should just knock him out and get this over with, should push aside the feelings that tangled in his chest. It would be easier that way. But he couldn’t do it. Not when the man looked at him like that—like Zack had, in his final moments.

“Swallow,” Cloud instructed, tipping the liquid into the man’s mouth.

At first, Genesis tried, but his body wasn’t cooperating. He gagged, his throat convulsing as the water slid down the wrong way. One of the younger SOLDIERs watching nearby called out, panicking, “He’s choking!”

Cloud didn’t react, ignoring the frantic voice. Instead, he pressed two fingers against the man’s throat, guiding him through it. “Come on,” Cloud urged softly. “You can do this.”

The man’s body shuddered, his chest heaving as he struggled to swallow. For a moment, Cloud thought he might lose him right then and there. But with great effort, the man finally managed to gulp the liquid down, his breath coming in ragged gasps once it was done.

“There…” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what you think... that water will do... but it can’t help... I’m already—”

The man’s body tensed violently, cutting off his sentence as a spasm ripped through him. His eyes squeezed shut, his hand clawing at his chest like he was trying to tear something out from within. Cloud knelt beside him, watching helplessly as the man gasped for air, each breath more labored than the last.

Cloud’s stomach twisted. His eyes lingered on the SOLDIER’s face, on the way his expression twisted in pain.

“Are you crazy? You’ve made him as good as dead!” Ryu, one of the SOLDIER 3rds, shouted, disbelief coloring his tone.

Cloud ignored him, forcing his focus on the man in his arms. The SOLDIER groaned, a sound filled with pain, and Cloud’s heart clenched, memories of Zack's last moments flooding back.

Just as despair began to creep in, the man jerked violently, and for a terrifying moment, it seemed death had claimed him. But then—miraculously—the color began to return to his face, the dark tendrils of corruption evaporating like mist. Cloud blinked, stunned. It’s really working?

His thoughts were interrupted. He could hear bickering behind him.

Walker was leveling his rifle at a 3rd SOLDIER. “One more step and I’ll drop you like I did those behemoths on the truck!”

Ryu, red-faced and trembling with rage, stomped forward, fists clenched, his hot temper getting the better of him. “You don’t scare me, Walker! You gonna play dirty pranks on me?!” Walker flinched, “you’re infamous at HQ.”

Cloud could feel his patience wearing thin. He didn’t have time for this petty power struggle. “Enough!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the argument. Both men turned toward him, their anger momentarily interrupted by the force of his words. “I don’t care who’s tougher, just give me a damn healing materia. I know you have one—it’s SOLDIER standard to carry at least one in a squad!”

Ryus’s grip on his rifle tightened, his expression conflicted as he fought to keep his nerves in check.  “I don’t have it,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes still locked on Walker. “General Rhapsodos better be oka —”

Before another round of insults could fly, Rowan stepped forward. His hand reached into his pack, and he pulled out a small, glowing orb. “Here,” he said as he held out the green sphere. “It’s General Rhapsodos’ materia. I’m carrying it for him.”

Cloud took the materia from Rowan, his eyes widening slightly as he felt its power. This wasn’t just any healing materia—it was fully mastered, brimming with energy. He could feel the weight of experience embedded in it, as if it had been used countless times before. Impressive .

Summoning the materia’s magic, a soft green light surrounded the wounded SOLDIER beneath him, knitting together the torn flesh and sealing the wounds.

Cloud stood, his jaw tight as he looked between Ryu and Walker. “I don’t give a damn what your problem is, but stop making a fuss when I’m trying to help. Don’t even think of threatening Walker or I. We’re the ones who took down the Behemoths.”

Ryu muttered something under his breath, but he stepped back, glaring at Walker as he did. Walker, for his part, simply slung his rifle over his shoulder, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his body hadn’t eased.

Cloud pocketed the materia, his frustration still simmering but at least channeled into something productive now. “Majority of his wounds are healed, but it’s still best to give basic aid” His voice left no room for argument.

Walker stepped forward, rifle handed off to Zeke, a first aid kit now clutched in his hand.

Walker approached hesitantly, his face drawn and uncertain. “I don’t want him to die,” he said, his voice low but firm. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Cloud sensed the turmoil within him.

“Thanks,” Cloud said, taking the kit. He offered Walker a gentle reassurance, noticing the weight pressing down on his hunched shoulders.

Despite his words, the haunted look in Walker's eyes remained, echoing the conflict within. Cloud felt a pang of sympathy but knew this wasn’t the moment. Instead, he returned the first aid kit and patted Walker’s shoulder awkwardly.

“Do you really not know Commander Rhapsodos?”

The name stirred something distant in Cloud’s mind, a flicker of recognition buried beneath the fog of his fractured memory . He repeated it slowly, “Rhapsodos…” A faint spark ignited, but it eluded him. “No. Not personally- he was delirious, mistook me for someone else”

Walker’s expression darkened, a shadow of conflict crossing his features. “I think I know who he was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cloud interrupted, “He’s lost a lot of blood and needs to rest.”

Walker frowned but didn’t respond.

With a deep breath, Cloud shifted his attention back to Genesis. As he applied bandages, painful memories of Zack surged to the forefront of his mind—The parallels between their circumstances pressed on him like an anchor.

“Is he going to make it?” Ryu asked, his raging bravado faltering.

Cloud glanced at the man’s still form and then back at the SOLDIERs. “He’s a fighter. We just need to get him to Kalm.”

The SOLDIER nodded, relief flooding their faces. But the moment was fleeting. Rowan’s voice broke the tension again. “The bikes… they’re destroyed.”

Cloud’s stomach sank. Without their motorcycles, getting the man to Kalm quickly would be nearly impossible. “Fantastic,” he muttered under his breath.

Turning to Zeke, Cloud asked, “They can hitch a ride with us?”

Zeke’s response was curt. “That’s up to him.” He gestured toward Walker, who remained tense.

After a moment of silence, Walker nodded, determination returning to his features. “Let’s get him to Kalm.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The market was already alive, with desperate shoppers and a variety of vendors taking advantage of the recent Behemoth attacks. Some stalls offered “miracle potions” and overpriced tonics, while others hawked junky scraps meant for item crafting. The one catching Cloud’s eye was a flamboyant materia seller set up on a pile of crates, flaunting his wares with a smug grin that grated on Cloud’s nerves immediately.

“Alright, alright! Don’t shove, people!” the seller barked, lifting a glowing green orb in his hand and waving it around. “Cure materia, fresh off the line! Save your life, this one will. Gonna cost ya, but what’s a few extra gil against a Behemoth’s fangs, huh? Don’t want another casualty, do ya?”

Cloud pushed through the crowd a bit, watching as a young, nervous shopper clutching a handful of gil stepped forward, looking torn. The seller raised his eyebrow, flashing a grin that reminded Cloud too much of Reno’s smug face, and something inside him snapped.

“Hey,” Cloud muttered to the shopper, just loud enough to catch his attention, “don’t waste your gil. He’s not giving you a good deal on that, especially for a basic Cure materia.”

The shopper glanced at Cloud, then back at the seller, uncertainty plain on his face.

The seller narrowed his eyes, directing a scowl at Cloud. “And just who do you think you are, blondie?” he sneered. “Think you know a good deal? The man’s gotta eat, you know. Or are you one of those noble types who think honesty alone’ll keep monsters at bay?”

Cloud crossed his arms, holding the seller’s gaze. “Honesty wouldn’t hurt. But I guess that’s not exactly in your playbook.”

The seller let out a mocking laugh, leaning closer to Cloud. “Oh, we got a hero here, folks! If you’re here to preach, maybe throw on a cape while you’re at it. I’m just doing what I can to keep this town going—or would you rather see me in rags, giving out freebies?”

Cloud felt his patience fraying. This guy had all the charm and sincerity of a swindler you’d find on the sidelines at the Underground Colosseum.  Inwardly, he sighed, thinking, And to think Zeke suggested I’d get a good deal here.

The seller wasn’t done, though. He shot Cloud a sly look, lowering his voice like they were old buddies. “But hey, hero,” he said, glancing around as if sharing a secret, “if you’re in the market for something special…” He held up a small sack of monster parts—claws, fangs, and chunks of hide. “Got a prime set right here from last night’s catch. Don’t get any fresher.”

Cloud eyed the bag, recognizing the parts instantly. “Last night’s catch?” he said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “So, you mean the Behemoth I took down right outside of town?”

Cloud’s gaze wandered over the slime merchant’s stall, catching on a modest pile of parts mixed in with junky trinkets and scraps of mismatched metal. He blinked as the gleam of gun parts glinted under the morning sun—barrel extensions, scope rings, even a few trigger mods. Though rough, he could tell these were pieces for rifle guns. It only took a bit of tinkering and a keen eye to enhance a gun’s performance with parts like these.

Huh. Not bad for a slime merchant, he thought dryly, brushing his hand over the pieces. He knew a few basics, thanks to a certain obsessive red-garbed gunner he’d once traveled with, a man who treated his weapon as reverently as Cloud did his sword or his bike. A bit intense, but one thing was clear from watching him: true shooters respected their guns the way warriors respected their blades.

And Walker… he considered, thinking back to the awkward, hopeful kid from last night. Walker had a level of precision and care that showed. He’s really as sharp a shot as Zeke said, he’ll know how to handle these parts.

The thought sparked something—an idea forming in his mind. If Walker had the skills to use and upgrade these pieces, they might actually be worth grabbing.

The seller’s face twitched, but he recovered quickly with a smirk. “Well, look at you, big shot. If you want ‘em, take ‘em off my hands. At a fair price.”

Cloud felt his patience snap. If the guy was going to profit off his work, he might as well take what he wanted. He reached out, swiping the gun parts in one smooth motion.

“Hey!” the seller shouted, his face twisting in outrage as he tried to grab Cloud’s arm, but Cloud sidestepped him with ease, the bag of parts now in his hand. “You can’t just—!”

“Consider it a community donation,” Cloud said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turned on his heel and strode away, ignoring the sputtering outrage from behind him.

But his victory was short-lived. Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud caught sight of a familiar figure standing calmly amidst the crowd. Tseng, one of Shinra’s elite Turks, his gaze fixed intently on Cloud.

Shit, Cloud thought, his stomach sinking. Just when things were getting good.

The Turks had an uncanny sense of timing, and Cloud knew from experience that Tseng wasn’t someone to mess with lightly. Every encounter with him since Sephiroth’s death had reminded him that Shinra’s interests—and grudges—ran deep. Tseng’s impassive gaze was steady as ever, and Cloud knew he had to avoid a confrontation here; drawing Shinra’s attention in this crowded space would put too many lives at risk.

From behind, the seller’s indignant shouts faded as Cloud slipped through the crowd, doing his best to put distance between himself and the Turk. He didn’t look back until he was several streets away, blending into a side alley. For the moment, he’d managed to lose him.

Cloud slipped behind the house, eye twitching as he took in the scene beyond the side window. Of course, he thought, half-amused, half-irritated. There was Rude—Shinra’s stoic wall of persistence—standing by the door, his usual shades glinting under the light. How many of those sunglasses did the man keep stashed in his suit? And just behind him was someone who looked suspiciously like Elena, though older, with a harder gaze. Could it be her? She wasn’t even in the Turks yet, he thought. At least, not in my world’s past.

He ducked out of view, keeping close to the house as he tried to piece together their reason for being here. It wasn’t long before he could hear bits of their conversation through the thin wall, catching snippets of voices just above a murmur.

Inside, Zeke was leaning casually near the door, shoulders loose but his stance protective, clearly trying to block any full view into the house. He was talking with the two Turks, face smooth, masking any nervousness.

“So, what brings Shinra to Kalm?” Zeke asked, voice easy. “Not a place you’d normally expect Turks to visit, y’know?”

Rude said nothing, his gaze coolly tracking over Zeke, though Cloud noticed his eyes dart briefly to Walker, who was hanging back, looking small and nervous behind his dad.

The woman—Elena?—stepped forward, her posture just short of aggressive. “Oh, just following up on some…unusual activity,” she said smoothly, a slight smile curving her lips. “There was a recent Behemoth attack, and our sources tell us it was neutralized by someone with impressive skill. Maybe even…someone familiar with Shinra operations.” Her voice was pointed, and she watched Zeke closely for a reaction.

Zeke chuckled, shrugging his shoulders with feigned ignorance. “Well, it’s true, we’ve got some talented folk around here. Just trying to survive, same as everyone else. But a Behemoth’s a big deal. Not many would step in to take it down unless they had no choice.”

“Indeed.” Supposedly Elena’s smile tightened. “We were hoping to locate this person and deliver a message of gratitude from Shinra. It’s not every day a civilian has the skill to protect one of our highly valued… assets.”

Cloud felt a pang of irritation at her words. He knew exactly what she meant. Cloud felt his jaw clench, irritation bubbling up. Assets? He knew what that word meant. He’d seen it used too many times by Shinra, a word that reduced people to tools—nothing more than expendable things to be used and thrown away. His thoughts flickered to Genesis, to the delirious man he saved. The way Shinra referred to him as an asset—just another object to be manipulated—made Cloud’s blood boil. Shinra Humanity at its finest, huh? The hypocrisy of Shinra always struck a nerve.

He can’t wait to dispose of President Shinra and his board excluding Reeve. At least Rufus is able to grow a conscious after some beatings from Gaia herself. If he isn’t able to take down Shinra this time on his own, he can try to manipulate leadership to his friend …and the prissy prince …after some behavioral therapy.

Zeke tilted his head. “Well, if I see anyone walking around with Behemoth blood on their hands, I’ll be sure to tell them you’re looking,” he replied, smooth as ever, though his posture remained guarded.

Rude finally spoke, his tone even. “We’d appreciate it. We’re just here to…ensure everything’s safe.”

Mrs. Gray, standing close by, observed the interaction with calm eyes. Her gaze flicked briefly to the window, catching Cloud’s reflection. Without a word, she held up a notebook in her hand, angling it just enough for him to see the words scrawled hastily across the page: Leave now. We’re fine. Stay safe.

Cloud held her gaze for a moment, then glanced at Walker, who was peeking nervously from behind his father. The boy’s discomfort tugged at him, and Cloud’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t stick around, not if it meant putting them all in Shinra’s crosshairs.

Crouching down by the window, he raised the sack he’d snatched from the market and gestured to Walker, mouthing, “For him.” Mrs. Gray’s eyes softened, and she gave a barely-there nod of understanding.

Inside, Supposedly Elena continued her probing. “Are you sure? Someone around here must’ve seen something.” She eyed Zeke, her gaze calculating. “After all, the person who killed that Behemoth might be of…interest. Maybe you’ve heard something?”

Zeke only shrugged. “Like I said, if I spot anyone who looks like they’ve been wrangling Behemoths for fun, I’ll point them your way.”

Supposedly Elena’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could press further, Rude cut in. “Emma.” His quiet voice held a warning edge, and she sighed, clearly dissatisfied with how much information they were getting.

With one last glance around, Rude’s gaze again landed on Walker, who shifted uncomfortably, shrinking a bit under the Turk’s silent scrutiny.

“Right,” Emma said finally, her tone annoyed as she turned back to Zeke. “If you happen to spot anything suspicious, let us know.” She flashed another tight-lipped smile. “We’ll be around.”

As they turned to leave, Cloud took one last look through the window, catching Zeke’s reassuring hand on Walker’s shoulder as he murmured something soothing. Mrs. Gray offered Cloud a small nod, barely noticeable but full of encouragement, and he felt a swell of gratitude. They’ve got this handled.

Cloud took a final glance at Rude’s shiny bald head, stifling a laugh despite himself. Guess, he thought, amused. Some things never change.

With that, he turned and slipped away from the house, following a winding path out of town and toward the open fields beyond Kalm. He had a sense of direction now, a plan forming, and hopefully, enough distance to keep the Turks off his trail for a little while longer.

Tseng stood near the door, his fingers lightly resting on the brass handle. He knew he didn’t have enough to work with—The mystery assailant’s weapon, his capabilities , and the mysterious circumstances surrounding his escape—but there was still something about this place that felt... off.  His subordinates were deflected of answers with ease that most civilians fail to counter, he wasn’t going to leave without pushing for more.

Behind him, Rude stood silently, arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever. Emma, standing slightly apart from him, kept her eyes scanning the room, her fingers twitching in subtle anticipation as her hand leisurely rests over her companion gun resting on her hip. A habit she developed since training days years ago. Tseng appreciated the silence from his colleagues; they knew their role here was one of observation now.

Tseng stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, as he eyed the graying man before him. Zeke wasn’t one to play a pushover; instead, he wore the attitude of someone who had spent too many years dealing with people like Tseng to be intimidated. Tseng had a feeling this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Zeke was a cranky old man who clearly had little patience for the Turks' methods, and it wasn’t long before Tseng got a taste of that.

Zeke squinted at him, sitting in a chair with his arms folded tightly across his chest. He looked like he’d been expecting this visit for some time, but wasn’t exactly pleased by it. Beneath that exterior, Tseng could see the nervousness in his eyes. Zeke was playing a careful game—people who thought they could talk their way out of a corner.

"Zeke," Tseng said, his voice steady as he turned to face him. "It seems that several of your neighbors mentioned seeing a... blonde man, dressed in black, with a large sword. Odd, wouldn’t you say? Since you’ve been so insightful to my associates about the man who killed the Behemoths, perhaps you’ll be more inclined to share about your guest." Tseng stood across from him , his posture relaxed, but his eyes cold and calculating. He wasn’t here to play games.

Zeke didn’t appreciate the Turks’ presence in his home, and it was clear in every sharp word that escaped his lips. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t nervous. He just didn’t want to be bothered.

“So, you’re here asking about some kid with a big sword, huh?” Zeke grunted, his tone a mix of sarcasm and annoyance. “Guess the Turks got nothing better to do, do they?”

Tseng didn’t flinch. “Sky Fair,” he said, his voice steady. “We both know he is the man who killed the Behemoths. Blonde hair, black clothes, large sword. Sounds too much of a coincidence, doesn’t it?” His gaze didn’t leave Zeke’s. “Where is he? A few of your neighbors confirmed they saw someone matching that description leave your house.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “Blonde hair with a sword—hell, sounds like half the people who pass through town .” He waved his hand dismissively. “So, what, you think just because someone’s carrying a sword like that, they’re special?” His lip curled into a sneer. “Get a grip. You’re chasing shadows.”

Tseng wasn’t backing down. “I don’t think it’s a shadow. I think it’s the truth. Your neighbors didn’t make up stories. They’re all saying the same thing: someone matching the description of our objective left your house. They weren’t wrong.”

Zeke’s face twisted with annoyance, but he didn’t crack. “I don’t know anything about this swordsman, and I’m not gonna help you waste my time on this nonsense. You got that?”

Tseng’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t just stubbornness; it was deflection . Zeke knew something, and he was deliberately playing it cool. Tseng wasn’t here for pleasantries, and Zeke’s attitude only served to fuel his resolve.

“Tell me,” Tseng pressed, “do you know anything about a man who’s connected to Commander Raspados - Cloud Strife? You wouldn’t want to get mixed up in this mess, would you?” Tsung noticed Walker stiffening in the corner the moment the name left his lips.

Zeke shot Tseng a glare. “The First SOLDIER?” he scoffed. “You really think this kid is involved with your army? Yeah, sure, why not. Let’s throw in some other nonsense while we’re at it.” Zeke’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair. “You think I’m gonna tell you anything? You think you can just waltz in here and start making demands? This is my home, Turk. Don’t forget that.”

Tseng didn’t blink. He could feel the pressure building, the tension thickening in the room. Zeke wasn’t giving him any solid answers, but his frustration was starting to slip through. Tseng shifted his focus to Walker, who had been twitching in the background, trying to keep himself out of the conversation. Walker looked like he was about to crumble under the weight of the interrogation. His hands were shaking, and he kept shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

Tseng turned toward him. “Walker Kacho,” he said, his voice direct. “You’ve been here the entire time. You know something.”

Zeke now stiffened as Walker froze, both shocked to hear their family name being addressed or how they knew them , they forgotten who they’re dealing with.  Walker froze at the Turk, his eyes darted toward Zeke for a split second, and he swallowed hard. “I—uh... I don’t—” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just... I don’t know anything about this Cloud person.”

Emma who had been silent the entire time scoffed at his reaction. Rude pointing a look at her.  Tseng raised a brow. Surely he knew who they were correct? They’re very aware of history with Cloud Strife.

Tseng took a step forward, his tone firm. “You’ve been here the whole time, Walker. You must know something. This isn’t the first time you've seen someone like him, is it?”

Walker’s breath caught in his throat. His voice grew more frantic. “I—I’m not—I don’t—please, I don’t know—”

Zeke, who had been watching the exchange in growing irritation, suddenly snapped. He shot to his feet, his chair screeching violently across the wooden floor. “That’s enough!” Zeke barked, his eyes blazing with fury. “Stop hammering my son with these questions!” He pointed an accusing finger at Tseng, his voice low but laced with barely contained anger. “You think you can come in here, disrespect my family, and force answers out of us? In my home ? No way.” He was standing now, looming over Tseng, his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t get to treat us like criminals just because you’re on some wild goose chase!”

Tseng didn’t flinch, but his expression hardened. He’d seen this kind of thing before—angry fathers defending their children, especially when they knew something they didn’t want to reveal. Zeke was on the edge. Tseng could feel the pressure, the tension in the room. It was only a matter of time before Zeke snapped, but Tseng wasn’t going to be intimidated.

Before the situation could escalate further, Mrs. Gray entered the room with a cheerful smile, pretending to be oblivious to the rising tension. She placed a small notebook on the table, letting out a little huff of effort as she sat it down. “Dinner’s just about ready, everyone!” she said brightly, her voice filled with warmth. “Stew, bread, a little dessert... I hope you all stay. You’ve been working so hard, and there’s plenty to go around. Don’t be shy now, gentlemen. Come, sit down! I insist.” She waved her hand, gesturing for the Turks to come closer.

Tseng gave a polite but distant smile, his expression carefully neutral. "Thank you, Mrs. Gray. But we’re in the middle of something urgent. I’m afraid we’ll have to pass on dinner this time."

Zeke, now visibly annoyed, muttered something under his breath about "too much damn company, nosey ass neighbors" as he stepped back, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

Tseng turned to leave, his voice smooth and calm. "We’ll be in touch, Mr. Kucho. I’m sure we’ll have more questions soon. And don’t worry, I’m certain your neighbors have more to say than you’d like."

As the door closed softly behind them, Tseng gave one final glance at the old house, the feeling of unfinished business hanging in the air. His mind was already working through the pieces, and Zeke’s snappy attitude only confirmed that the man knew more than he was letting on.

Rude and Emma followed him out.

Beside him, Rude adjusted his sunglasses, his expression unreadable but alert, while Emma glanced around with a mixture of irritation and weariness. The hours they’d spent questioning Kalm’s townsfolk had yielded little more than vague hints and roundabout denials.

As they made their way down the street, Tseng’s phone rang. The name “Reno” blinked on the display, and with a sigh, he answered it, bracing himself for whatever chaos his colleague might be calling to report.

“Reno. Report,” he said coolly.

“Hey, boss. You’re not gonna believe this one,” Reno’s voice loudly crackled with amusement on the other end. “Our favorite little blond decided to give us the slip about…oh, an hour ago. Real smooth, too. Either he’s got eyes in the back of his head, or someone around here warned him.”

Tseng’s jaw tightened. The timing was too convenient, and Reno’s report only confirmed his suspicions he spotted target earlier in the market.

“An hour? And I’m only hearing about it now?” Tseng’s voice was sharp, icy.

“Hey, cut me a little slack, would ya? I was dealing with… well, let’s call it a ‘colorful encounter.’ Ran into a shopkeeper with enough attitude to make Heidegger look polite. Real piece of work, that one.”

“Guessing this was more ‘chat’ than ‘intel,’ huh, Reno?” Emma interjected with a smirk.

“Oh, you wound me, Gun,” Reno replied, feigning hurt. “It was totally legit! This guy was convinced he’s the ‘real victim’ in all of this. Claims his precious materia and some gun parts got stolen by a ‘hero poser.’ Said Shinra owes him for his trouble. Hell, he was about two steps away from handing me his expense report.”

Emma snorted, while Rude managed a faint smile.

“And this is useful because…?” Tseng’s tone was dry.

“Hold on, hold on. Mr. Grumpy actually had some useful tidbits. Said he saw the guy leave town.”

“Did this shopkeeper give any details?” he asked.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘details.’ He had plenty of insults for Shinra. Mostly colorful variations on how we’re all a ‘bunch of backstabbin’ bureaucrats,’ mixed with some choice words about Shinra’s ‘sense of responsibility.’ Sounded like he’d spent the morning practicing in front of a mirror,” Reno chuckled.

“Sounds like you’re best friends already,” Emma said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

“You could say that. Wouldn’t shut up about his shop being ‘cleaned out,’ like it was some sacred institution. Said he got his hands on some ‘expensive materia’ and tried to charge me double just for the thrill of holding it.”

Rude smirked, and even Emma chuckled despite herself.

“And where exactly is this illustrious establishment?” Tseng asked, exasperation creeping into his tone.

“Small corner stall at the edge of the market. If you can’t find it, just listen for someone cursing Shinra loud enough to rattle the windows. Name’s Vic. Short, mean, and about as charming as a cactus.”

Tseng’s brow furrowed, “Fine. I’ll go take a look. Try not to get sidetracked any more than you already have.”

Reno just laughed, the line going dead.

The shop was exactly as Reno had described it: a makeshift stall of scrap wood and crates cramped, cluttered with equipment scraps, materia, and some items, echoing with a muttered stream of curses that spilled out. Tseng stepped up, immediately feeling the weight of the shopkeeper’s glare. The man was short, stocky, and looked like he’d chewed on gravel for breakfast.

“Don’t got nothin’ for Shinra here,” the man muttered without looking up. “Not interested in your ‘business,’ and sure as hell don’t want your money.”

“I’m not here for your hospitality,” Tseng replied calmly. “I heard you’ve had trouble with a… thief recently?”

The shopkeeper’s head jerked up, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Tseng, then Rude and Emma standing off to the side.

“Figures. Shinra shows up after something happens, where we’re an hour earlier?.”

“I’m not here to argue. I just need information.”

“’Course you do,” the man grumbled, crossing his arms. “Shinra’s got all the answers, except when it actually matters. This guy swiped me, rifled through my stock, and made off with some precious materia and parts for a gun I was rebuildin’. Left me with nothing but scraps.”

“You mentioned you saw him leaving town, which way?”

“Maybe I did. Or maybe I just saw some shadowy figure slinkin’ around, muttering to himself like a man with secrets.—sound familiar, Shinra?”

Tseng’s gaze sharpened. He’s tired of the gaslighting he’s been dealing with all morning. His voice tensed “Where did he go?.

Noticing the shift in air, he caved “….South exit, probably southwest…” the shopkeeper scowled.

Emma bit back a laugh, while Rude’s neutral expression softened into a faint smile. The swindler shopkeeper, undeterred, continued to rant, throwing out words like “corporate thieves” and “Shinra lapdogs” in their direction.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tseng replied with a calm nod.

With one last look around the cluttered stall, Tseng gestured for Rude and Emma to follow. As they turned to leave, Vic’s voice followed them out the door.

“If you catch him, you tell him I want my stuff back!”

Outside, Emma shook her head with a grin. “That guy’s a real piece of work.“

“Stubborn and stupid to the end, doesn’t want to admit when he’s scared,” Rude murmured.

Tseng’s mind was already elsewhere, thoughts spinning as he pieced together the morning events. ‘Fair’ had slipped through their fingers.

“Think we’ll find him before he’s long gone?” Emma asked.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Tseng replied. “One way or another, we’re going to have our answers.”

As they left the shop and stepped back onto the market street of Kalm, Tseng felt the weight of unfinished business settle heavily in his mind. They were outmaneuvered this time, but he wasn’t planning on making this final. This game was far from over.

By the time Cloud reached the plains outside of Kalm, the sun had already climbed high, casting its bright light across the quiet expanse of fields. Cloud took a deep breath, allowing the warmth to wash over him, though the tension in his mind didn’t quite fade. His run-in with the Turks still lingered, but for now, at least, he had a bit of space.

The sun was warm, and at least for now, things seemed peaceful enough. The only thing Cloud had to worry about now was not being followed by Shinra—or dealing with any more greedy merchants.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the small red materia orb he’d snatched earlier from the slime merchant’s stall. As he turned it over in his hand, his irritation flared once more. The merchant had been a complete fraud, selling things he clearly didn’t understand the value of. Cloud had to admit, he was curious. The merchant had no idea that the orb he had was Summoning materia. He probably thought it was just some random piece of junk to sell for a quick buck.

Cloud snorted to himself. If he knew what he was really holding, he’d charge triple the price for that thing. What a moron.

He decided to give it a shot, using the materia right then and there. Cloud focused his energy into the orb, expecting a simple summoning. To his surprise, two creatures materialized before him—a Chocobo and a Moogle.

The Chocobo, though slightly dirty and ragged-looking, stepped forward, flapping its wings excitedly, and gave a loud Kwawk! Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Huh," he muttered, inspecting the bird. "Not exactly what I was hoping for, but... not bad, I guess."

The creature flapped its wings again, making a noise that sounded more like a grunt than a real kwawk before it sidled up to Cloud and nudged his arm with its beak, a playful glint in its eyes.

Cloud stared at the Chocobo for a moment, the way it was acting so carefree and, well, kind of like a stubborn little idiot. It reminded him of someone.

Cloud’s lip curled into a smirk. Yeah, I get it now.

He reached down, patting the bird on the head with a soft chuckle. "You’re a lot like Zack, aren’t you?"

The Chocobo blinked, looking at him with those big, innocent eyes, then let out another Kwawk! like it was agreeing. Cloud shook his head, laughing quietly.

“Yeah, you know what? I think you are,” he said to the bird, his tone almost affectionate. “I’ll name you Zacke. Maybe not as creative as some other names, but it fits. You’ve got that same energy, I guess.”

"Zacke—Z-A-C-K, with an E, people might get confused." Cloud grimaced slightly, feeling the need to clarify. He really didn’t need anyone asking about the bird’s name later, as if it was some sort of tribute to—well, never mind.

The Chocobo tilted its head as if trying to understand him, then bobbed its head once more.

Cloud sighed, leaning down and rubbing the bird’s neck. "Alright, Zacke, with an E. Looks like we’re stuck together now, okay?"

The Chocobo gave another kwawk, as though agreeing.

Cloud chuckled to himself. "I’m talking to a bird now. This is my life. But at least you're a good distraction from everything else," he muttered, his voice softening. "Zack always did know how to keep things interesting. Maybe you can do the same."

Before he could think too much about it, there was the small Kupo from the Moogle that had appeared at his side, hovering happily. Cloud blinked, momentarily distracted by the creature’s antics. Cloud raised an eyebrow, eyeing the tiny creature as it zipped around him, doing flips in the air.

It landed with a soft “Kupo!” at his feet, giving him an almost cheeky look. Cloud sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, alright. You’re not exactly what I had in mind for company, but... fine." He scratched the back of his neck. “Just... don’t make this weird, okay?”

The Moogle gave another Kupo, and then, with a surprising swish of its tiny wings, it flitted away from Cloud and behind the Chocobo, its body almost disappearing into the shadows as it looked around, clearly on guard.

Cloud’s eyes narrowed. "Alright, you’re sneaky. I’ll give you that." He paused, then looked at the Moogle seriously. “Just stay out of sight when there are people around. Deal?”

To his surprise, the Moogle nodded and then - poof - it vanished in a cloud of sparkling mist, disappearing like a ghost.

Cloud blinked, then grinned despite himself. “Well, this is definitely a new strange,” he muttered under his breath. He remembered spending hell chasing disappearing moogle in their shenanigan games when he needed to get their approval for their stores, but -

"Traveling with a Moogle summon…definitely new."

He looked down at the Chocobo, who was pecking at the ground and idly flapping its wings. “Guess it’s just you and me, Zacke," Cloud said with a sigh. "And your magical friend.”

The Chocobo gave another Kwawk!, clearly happy to be on the move. Cloud shook his head in disbelief. 

He straightened up, giving Zacke a final pat on the neck. “Let’s go. We’ve got a ways to go and hopefully fewer Turks in our future.”

Cloud took a deep breath, ready to move forward, his odd little team of companions beside him.

Chapter Text

The low hum of the car engine reverberated through the cabin, the rhythmic sound almost comforting in its repetition. The road ahead stretched empty, almost desolate, under the dull flicker of streetlights. The Turks were used to the hum of urban chaos, not this isolation. Tonight, it felt like a heavy silence that hung thick in the air.

Elana’s voice cut through the stillness. “This is a waste of time,” she muttered, the edge of frustration creeping into his normally steady tone. “We could’ve taken the chopper straight to Junon.”

Tseng didn’t even glance in her direction. His hands gripped the steering wheel, steady and sure. “And notify our target our whereabouts ?” His voice was calm, but the weight of experience carried every word. “Our target knows we’re after him. If we charge in too recklessly, he’ll be gone before we can even confirm his location.”

Rude cocked a brow, a slight frown hung. “We know he’s heading southeast. Verdot last saw him take this route.”

“That doesn’t mean we know where he’s headed next,” Tseng countered, his voice sharp with authority. “We need confirmation. Cissnei and Two Guns are in Junon waiting, but we have to cut off his escape route if he decides to flee.”

Elana’s humph was the only response, but Tseng could feel her skepticism. She wasn’t wrong. The situation didn’t feel right. But it was what they had to work with.

From the backseat, Elena shifted, her voice laced with doubt. “This ..seems wrong.”

Tseng glanced in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “What does?”

Elena hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. “Cissnei had a point. He saved one of ours. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Tseng’s face remained neutral, the weight of their past decisions thickening the air between them. “You weren’t a Turk then.”

Elena stiffened. “I know the history,” she said, her voice quieter. “Avalanche infiltrated Midgar disguised as Firsts—Angeal, Genesis. They tried to assassinate the President.”

Tseng’s gaze darkened as he took a slow breath, his hand tightening around the steering wheel. “That’s the official story. But the truth is, they came much closer to succeeding than anyone outside Shinra knows.”

 A long silence settled in the car. Tseng’s mind drifted back to that night—the chaos, the blood, the sense of impending doom. The alarms had blared through the corridors of Shinra HQ, and he could still hear the echoes of boots pounding against the floors. He could still see the blood splattered across the hallways, He could still feel the President’s presence in his soul, the only constant in the world falling apart around him during his race to get to his Soulmate in time.

Tseng didn’t often admit aloud, but in moments like this, he couldn’t deny it. No matter the weight of their mission or the blood on their hands, the President was one of his two priorities—always.

“Elena,” Tseng said, his voice breaking through the stillness, “Have you heard of a man named Hollander?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, Reno calls him ‘that lumpy hackrabbit.’”

Rude’s quiet snort from the backseat made Tseng’s lips twitch upward, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of humor, not tonight.

“Hollander,” Tseng continued, “was a Shinra scientist. He worked his way through the ranks, but when the position of head scientist was passed over him, he defected. Went to Avalanche with his tail tucked between his legs.”

 Elena leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Why? What did he want?”

Tseng’s voice dropped lower, his words carefully measured. “He wanted more than just a position. He wanted power. Specifically, Jenova cells.”

Elena’s eyes widened. “Jenova cells?”

Tseng nodded. “What we didn’t know at the time was that Hollander had been collecting samples of Genesis and Angeal’s blood. He had been working on cloning them, perfecting the process. He believed he could create a new army of soldiers—just like the ones Shinra had, but better.”

The weight of the words hung in the air as Elena processed the information. “Wait…so the infiltrators weren’t really them?”

Tseng’s gaze never left the road ahead. “No. They were clones. Nearly perfect replicas. In every way, except for one thing.”

Elena blinked, confusion still written across her face.

Elena screamed in shock, “CLONES?!”

 The sudden outburst was so loud that both Rude and Tseng winced.

“But…if they were clones, why didn’t they succeed?”

Rude was the one who answered, his tone unusually soft. “Reno.”

Tseng turned his head slightly, catching the quiet sorrow in Rude’s voice. “Reno threw himself into the fight. He used his body as a human shield to buy us time.”

Elena’s breath hitched as she processed the weight of Rude’s words. “That’s why he…” she trailed off, her mind clearly reeling.

Rude nodded, his lips tight behind his sunglasses. “The scars. That’s why he wears the tattoos—to cover them, to prove he’s the real deal.”

Elena fell silent, staring at her hands, the weight of their conversation pressing on her chest. Then, with a slight smirk, she broke the tension. “So, that explains that tat kink Rude.”

Rude spluttered, clearly caught off guard. He adjusted his sunglasses, despite the darkness in the car. Tseng sighed deeply, his voice sharp as he cut in. “Elena.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, though her grin didn’t fade. “Right, right. No personal talk on the job.”

The lighthearted moment passed quickly, leaving Elena in thoughtful silence. “Still,” she said after a beat, her tone serious again, “If the target’s a clone, why would he save Genesis? If he was with Avalanche, wouldn’t he just leave him behind?”

Tseng considered her question, his eyes narrowing. “It could be a tactic,” he said after a moment, his voice low and calculating. “A way to confuse us, make us think he’s Cloud Strife.”

He glanced back at Elena through the rearview mirror. “Tell me, if you saw someone who looked like Two Guns—someone who moved like her, sounded like her—could you pull the trigger?”

Elena opened her mouth, then hesitated, the weight of the question settling in.

Tseng didn’t need her to answer. He already knew. She couldn’t..

The quiet understanding passed between them, a silent acknowledgment that this mission was far more complicated than any of them had realized.

Tseng’s voice cut through the silence once more, sharp and unwavering. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a clone or not. It doesn’t matter if he’s with Avalanche. What matters is that he’s dangerous. He’s powerful. And if he won’t align with Shinra…”

His words trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

The road stretched on, endless beneath the tires, in that moment, Tseng allowed himself the briefest thought of the President, his connection to Cloud Strife—vowing that he would never let anything happen to him again.

Zack woke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest.

Then he saw him—Cloud, tangled in the sheets beside him, his golden hair an absolute mess, skin still warm from sleep. Relief washed over Zack so intensely that for a moment, he couldn’t do anything but stare.

Cloud was here. Not a fading memory, not a distant regret— here.

Zack let out a shaky breath, a grin pulling at his lips. “ You’re real, ” he murmured, mostly to himself.

Cloud stirred, brows furrowing as he blinked blearily up at him.

Zack instantly smiled at him,”Morning Sunshine.”

His voice was still thick with sleep, but his tone was unmistakably dry. “ You snuck into my bunk again, didn’t you? ”

Zack sputtered. “ What? No—I was here first! ”

Cloud snorted, rubbing a hand over his face. “ Uh-huh. So I’m just supposed to believe I sleepwalked over to your bed? ”

“ Exactly! ”* Zack shot him finger guns, grinning wide, but that only earned him an even more unimpressed look.

“ You’re going to get us both in trouble, ” Cloud muttered, shifting to sit up, but Zack caught his wrist before he could.

“ Wait— ” Zack hesitated, suddenly unsure how to say don’t go without sounding desperate.

Cloud eyed him, still half-asleep but sharper now. “ What? ”

Zack swallowed. He thought back to the moment he first saw Cloud’s name etched onto his skin—the rush of realization, the sheer certainty that this was it. That Cloud was his.

He’d nearly sprinted across the barracks right then, half out of his mind with excitement. But at least this time, he remembered Genesis’s advice.

“Subtlety, Fair. If you charge in like a wild chocobo, you’ll spook him.”

Zack forced himself to take a breath. “ Man, I can’t believe this, ” he finally said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You really stayed. I was kinda scared you’d bolt. … stay a little longer? ”

Cloud studied him for a long moment, then sighed, flopping back onto the mattress. “ You’re weird, ” he mumbled.

Zack laughed softly, tension melting from his shoulders. “ Yeah, yeah. But you love me anyway. ”

Cloud huffed but didn’t argue.

Zack didn’t even try to stop the grin from stretching across his face.

Maybe Genesis had been onto something after all.

That was when Cloud went still beside him.

For a moment, Zack thought he’d just drifted back to sleep—until Cloud turned his head slightly, his brows drawn in confusion. His eyes darted around the dimly lit room, lingering on the furniture.

“…Wait.” Cloud sat up, looking around again. “ This isn’t the barracks. ”

Zack smirked. “ Oh, look at that. He does have object permanence after all. ”

Cloud shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat—mostly because the realization was just settling in. His already sleep-mussed hair seemed to puff up even more as his face turned a shade closer to Ifrit’s flames.

Zack grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “ Well, now that you’re awake, we can have that talk about how I successfully coaxed my little chocobo into following me home last night. ”

Cloud groaned, burying his face in his hands. “ Don’t call me that. ”

Zack chuckled, rolling onto his side to face him. “ What? It’s true. I even played nice, just like Genesis told me to. And hey, it worked. ” He shot Cloud another set of finger guns. “ We got a little frisky, didn’t we? ”

Cloud, still mostly hiding his face, reached out blindly and smacked Zack’s shoulder. “ Shut up.”

Zack just laughed. “ Aww, don’t be shy now. I mean, technically, you came willingly. Eventually. ”

“ Zack . ”

“ Cloud . ” Zack wiggled his eyebrows. “ My bed’s always open for you, you know. ”

Cloud groaned louder, but the redness in his ears was impossible to miss. Zack would’ve teased him more, but Cloud finally peeked up at him through his fingers, something softer in his expression now.

Zack smiled. “ Relax, Spiky. No one’s here to get us in trouble. ”

Cloud let out a slow breath, then, after a moment’s hesitation, let himself relax against the pillows again. Zack wasted no time pulling him close, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“ See? ” Zack murmured. “ Told ya. I take good care of my chocobo. ”

Cloud muttered something unintelligible but didn’t push him away.

Zack smiled against Cloud’s lips, his heart pounding as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Cloud’s breath hitched, his fingers hesitantly brushing against Zack’s chest before gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Zack felt like he was floating, warmth spreading through every inch of him. Cloud was his. Finally, truly his. And this time, nothing would take him away—

Except, apparently, reality.

Suddenly, the warmth was gone, the soft sheets beneath him replaced by something far less comfortable.

Zack’s eyes snapped open—

—And found himself kissing cold, hard metal.

He froze. For a long, agonizing second, his sleep-addled brain tried desperately to make sense of the situation. This wasn’t Cloud. This wasn’t even a person.

It was Kunsel’s helmet.

A helmet that, somehow, had ended up wedged between their cots.

Zack’s stomach plummeted.

Before he could even react, a hesitant voice broke through the stunned silence.

“Uhh… Zack?”

Zack’s whole body jerked upright as if he’d been electrocuted, eyes wide with sheer horror.

Kunsel stood at the entrance of their tent, still dripping slightly from where he’d just washed his face at the nearby stream. His hair was damp, his gear only half-done up, but most importantly—

He was staring directly at Zack.

At Zack, who had very clearly just been making out with his helmet.

Zack gawked at him. Kunsel gawked back.

The silence stretched.

“…Sooo,” Kunsel started, his voice slow, measured, like he was trying to defuse a landmine, “should I… be concerned?”

Zack made a noise that was probably meant to be a denial but came out more like a strangled wark of a dying chocobo.

Kunsel blinked. Then, very deliberately, he pointed at Zack—more specifically, at Zack’s lip prints now visible on the metal.

“Dude.”

Zack immediately threw the helmet to the side like it had personally betrayed him. “ IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! ”

Kunsel crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Oh? Because from here, it definitely looked like you were about to confess your undying love to my headgear.”

Zack buried his face in his hands. Holy Ifrit’s flaming asscheeks.

Kunsel, the absolute menace, wasn’t done. “I mean, hey, if you’ve got a thing for guys in helmets, I’m sure I can set you up with one of the troopers—”

Zack lunged at him, tackling him straight out of the tent. “SHUT UP, KUNSEL.”

Kunsel cackled all the way down.

Zack and Kunsel groaned as they finally untangled themselves from the heap of limbs and dirt outside the tent. Kunsel shoved at Zack’s shoulder, voice low but insistent.

“Would you shut up?! It’s still early, and as far as I can tell, we’re the only ones awake.”

Zack blinked, glancing around. Sure enough, the rest of the camp remained undisturbed, the soft sounds of sleeping soldiers the only thing breaking the quiet morning air. He let out a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Heh… sorry.”

Kunsel rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as they ducked back into their tent. Zack barely had time to sit down before Kunsel turned to him with an all-too-amused expression.

“So, be honest with me,” Kunsel started, crossing his arms. “Should I go ahead and request a tent switch? ‘Cause first, you mistakenly kissed me in your sleep, and now I walk in on you making out with my helmet? ”

Zack groaned, throwing himself back onto his cot. “Oh, come on! That was one time!”

Kunsel smirked. “Was it, though?”

“Yes!” Zack shot back, before his brain betrayed him.

Because suddenly, something important struck him.

He hadn’t dreamed of anything but Cloud’s death for a long time.

But this time?

He dreamed of Cloud alive.

Happy.

With him.

His heart pounded. Why? What changed?

“Uh-oh,” Kunsel drawled. “That’s your thinking face. Should I be worried?”

Zack barely heard him, his mind racing. His stomach twisted with something he couldn’t name—hope, dread, something in between.

Kunsel waved a hand in front of his face. “Zack? Hellooooo? Gaia to Puppy?”

Zack snapped back to reality. “Huh?”

Kunsel deadpanned. “You just went full SOLDIER mode. Very unsettling. Usually, you’re all ‘friendly golden retriever,’ but for a second there, you looked dangerous. ”

Zack forced a grin, shaking off the lingering unease. “Nah, just—just remembering something.”

Kunsel raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And does this something have anything to do with you trying to fuse your soul with my headgear?”

Zack groaned, flinging his pillow at him. “Drop it, Kunsel. ”

Kunsel laughed, dodging effortlessly. “No way. This is prime blackmail material.”

Zack scowled. “You’re the worst. ”

“Yep,” Kunsel agreed cheerfully. “And you love me for it.”

Zack flopped back onto his cot with a dramatic sigh, staring up at the canvas above. His mind still lingered on Cloud—on the dream, on the fact that, for the first time in forever, it hadn’t been a nightmare.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… just maybe…

It wasn’t just a dream.

Chapter Text

The Mythril Mines were silent, save for the occasional distant drip of water and the faint rustle of unseen creatures moving in the darkness. The Turks moved carefully through the winding tunnels, their footfalls light against the damp stone.

Rude and Elena had gone ahead, slipping into the mines first while Tseng trailed behind, ensuring they weren’t followed. Fiends lurked in the shadows, their glowing eyes flashing briefly before slinking away, sensing that these intruders were more trouble than they were worth.

Rude’s voice crackled softly through Tseng’s earpiece. “We’re in position. No sign of the target yet.”

Tseng pressed a gloved finger to his earpiece. “Understood. Maintain stealth. We can’t risk alerting anything down here—not just the fiends.”

He could hear Elena breathing steadily, clearly on edge but keeping it together. “You really think this is him ?” she whispered, voice barely audible.

Rude answered first. “Doubt it.”

Tseng remained silent for a moment before finally saying, “That’s what we’re here to determine.”

It had been a long time since Cloud Strife had disappeared—long enough that Tseng had come to accept that he was gone for good.  He was written off as dead, despite the evidential proof of a limp body killed off by the very hand of the dead’s own soulmate. Even buried… At least that’s all the Soldiers knew. They never learned that the Turks faked the body in the burial.  Cloud Strife’s original body went missing. Disappeared, no trail left behind. Which adds more to the concerns of their  current target. The thought of some experiment crawling out of the past wearing his face was… unsettling, to say the least.

They pressed on, moving deeper into the tunnels, navigating the crumbling pathways and rusted minecart tracks that had long since been abandoned. A faint, pink flickering light became visible ahead—firelight. Someone was here.

Tseng raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. He gestured toward the flickering light up ahead, and Rude nodded, understanding the silent order. They would split up—Rude would circle around, while Tseng and Elena would approach from the front.

Elena exhaled slowly. “Showtime.”

Tseng shot her a warning look, and she straightened.

Together, they crept closer, sticking to the shadows. The flickering pink light was—a small moogle?

The moogle hovering around a chocobo snuggled next to -

Spiky blond hair caught in the pink light.

Elena inhaled sharply but kept quiet this time.

Tseng’s grip on his gun tightened. Even from this distance, he could see the unnatural glow of Mako-bright eyes.

He gave the signal.

Rude struck first, emerging from the side and cutting off any escape. Tseng moved forward with his gun raised, voice sharp and controlled.

“Don’t move. We’re taking you in.”

The figure tensed, head snapping up. Eyes wild. Ready to strike.

Not Cloud. He never had those sort of eyes.

But close enough to send a chill down Tseng’s spine.

Cloud’s mind reeled.

No. Not again.

He was standing in the middle of Nibelheim’s town square, just a few feet away from the familiar, rusting water tower. His heart pounded as his eyes darted around, taking in the sight of his childhood home—the cobblestone streets, the warmly lit windows, the distant scent of fresh bread from the bakery. The air here smelled the way it always had—earthy, crisp with mountain winds.

But something felt off.

He turned, pulse hammering in his ears as his gaze locked onto him.

Sephiroth.

Cloud stiffened, every muscle in his body tensing instinctively, waiting— expecting —that all-too-familiar, invasive gaze. The weight of Sephiroth’s obsession.

But it never came.

Instead, the man stood with his arms crossed, listening—not to Cloud, but to her.

Tifa.

She stood just a few feet away, hands on her hips, exuding the same stubborn confidence he remembered from childhood. “The guide job’s set,” she said, her voice bright, determined. “I’ll be taking you up the mountain tomorrow.”

Cloud inhaled sharply.

This is wrong.

This had already happened. Years ago.

He was supposed to be just another nameless trooper here. Hiding behind his helmet. Swallowing his words.

Not this.

His fingers twitched at his sides, his body moving on instinct to reach for something— a weapon? A shield? —but he wasn’t wearing his usual gear. He was clad in the old blue infantry uniform again, the weight of the standard-issue rifle strapped to his back.

He felt trapped in it.

Like a ghost of himself.

Tifa was still talking, gesturing toward the mountains in the distance, completely unaware of the war raging in Cloud’s mind. “The weather’s been weird lately, but I know the safest paths,” she assured Sephiroth. “I can get us to the reactor without issue.”

Sephiroth nodded, calm and impassive. “I’ll trust your expertise.”

Cloud flinched.

No eerie smirk. No piercing stare directed at him. No cryptic remarks.

He doesn’t even notice me.

Cloud’s heart slammed against his ribs.

This wasn’t like the other times.

No whispers in his ear. No voices clawing at his mind.

Sephiroth was just… standing there. Discussing logistics. Like none of that had ever happened.

Cloud took a half-step back, his breath coming too fast.

What the hell is this?

The lines between past and present blurred, and his mind scrambled to make sense of it. He wasn’t sure whether to run —from Sephiroth, from this town, from this memory —or force himself to stay still, to study what was happening.

Was this a dream? A hallucination?

Or was something — someone —showing him this?

His pulse pounded, and he tried to will himself to calm down.

But then—

A voice.

Soft. Familiar. Wrong.

“Cloud, sweetie, take that thing off. You know it’s rude to hide your face from your own mother.”

He turned sharply.

His childhood home stood before him, its front door open.

And there, standing in the doorway, was her.

His mother.

Smiling. Waiting.

Her hands reached for his helmet, gentle, patient.

Cloud froze.

His chest felt tight, his breath coming in shallow pulls.

His name left his lips in a whisper, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears.

“M-Ma…?”

The world around him flickered, distorting like ripples in water.

His mother’s soft laughter filled the space between them, and a small, feathery weight nudged against his side.

A familiar kweh broke the moment.

Cloud’s eye twitched.

His mother smiled. “Oh, he’s adorable! Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Cloud blinked. Turned. Stared.

There, standing beside him—inside his mother’s house—was Zacke.

The chocobo.

Cloud opened his mouth. Closed it. Dragged a slow hand down his face.

“…How the hell did you even get in here?”

Zacke tilted his head as if confused by the question.

His mother, still unfazed, clapped her hands together. “Zacke, was it?”

Cloud exhaled through his nose, long and suffering. “It’s Zack. With an E. ”

She nodded approvingly. “Zack with an E. ”

Cloud nodded back, proud.

The absurdity of the moment should have made him relax. Should have made him laugh.

But something inside him knew—

Knew —

This wasn’t real.

And then—

The world shattered again

Cloud felt warm.

The weight against him was solid, comforting in a way that sent a confusing rush through his chest. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, a firm body pressed close to his own, and soft breath tickled his ear.

His mind—his real mind—screamed in confusion, but his body wasn’t his to control.

His fingers twitched against bare skin. He felt his muscles shift, stretching lazily, as if this was normal, as if waking up in someone’s arms— in Zack’s arms —was something that happened all the time.

It wasn’t.

What is this?

His own body betrayed him, tilting back into the warmth instead of pulling away. He wanted to move, to sit up, to shove Zack off him and demand to know what the hell was happening, but his limbs refused to listen.

He was trapped.

Not physically—no, Zack wasn’t holding him down—but in something much worse. A dream? A memory?

But that didn’t make sense.

Because this never happened.

And yet—

Zack shifted, humming sleepily against his shoulder. Cloud could feel the vibration of it. His body—this other him —sighed in response, sinking deeper into the hold like it was second nature.

Cloud’s real mind reeled.

He didn’t remember this.

He couldn’t recall a single moment in his past where he and Zack had been like this. No teasing advances, no stolen nights together, no waking up wrapped in each other. Zack had always been close, always been affectionate, but not like this.

Not where he kissed along Cloud’s shoulder, murmuring half-asleep nonsense with a smile in his voice.

Not where he held him like he was something precious.

Cloud’s stomach twisted violently.

“Morning, Sunshine.”

Zack’s voice was thick with sleep, rough and warm and so damn real.

Cloud—this other Cloud—made a small sound in response, something soft and familiar, something that belonged to someone who loved Zack in a way Cloud didn’t remember ever allowing himself to.

And Zack—Zack lit up.

Even groggy, his grin was bright, like he’d been waiting for that reaction. He dipped his head lower, his nose brushing against Cloud’s cheek, his breath warm against his skin.

“Man, I still can’t believe this,” Zack murmured, his hold tightening just slightly, as if securing Cloud there. “You really stayed. I was kinda scared you’d bolt.”

Cloud felt his own lips twitch upward. A faint smile.

No.

No, I wouldn’t—

But Zack chuckled, nudging his forehead against Cloud’s, close enough that their breaths mingled.

Cloud’s heart was pounding. His fingers— not his fingers, not his hands, not his body —lifted, brushing against Zack’s bare shoulder.

Zack’s gaze softened.

It was the way he looked at him, like he knew every inch of Cloud, like he knew this moment was real and shared and theirs.

Like it had happened before.

Like it had always been happening.

Cloud wanted to scream.

Because this wasn’t his memory.

It wasn’t real— it wasn’t real—!

His lips parted, and he could feel words coming—

Something was about to be said—

But the world shifted.

The warmth vanished.

Zack disappeared.

And Cloud woke up—

A sharp, grating “WARK!” split through Cloud’s spiraling thoughts like a blade.

A moment later, something yanked his hair. Hard.

Cloud barely had time to react before he lost his balance, tumbling forward and sprawling onto the damp cave floor. His breath left him in a sharp gasp, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

And then—

A shadow loomed over him.

Cloud’s pulse spiked. His breath hitched.

Mako-blue eyes—vivid, bright, alive —stared down at him.

His heart clenched so painfully it felt like it might crack his ribs.

“…Zack?” he whispered.

For a single, excruciating second, hope flared in his chest. That this was real.

His fingers twitched, reaching.

But instead of warm skin—

Soft feathers met his palm.

Cloud’s vision sharpened, the haze of grief lifting just enough for reality to set in.

It wasn’t Zack.

It was Zacke.

The large, feathery summon tilted its head at him, bright eyes full of concern. With an affectionate coo, the chocobo nudged its beak against Cloud’s shoulder, trying to comfort him.

Cloud exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a brief moment to ground himself. His heartbeat still thundered in his ears.

A small, hovering blur zipped into his vision.

The Hitchhiker Moogle —the second half of his summon—floated beside him, little paws gesturing in frantic motions, clearly worried.

Cloud forced a small, tired smirk. “I’m okay,” he murmured. “Just… give me a second.”

The moogle crossed its tiny arms, huffing out a tiny “Kupo!” of skepticism.

Cloud huffed a laugh through his nose, finally sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he felt where Zacke had yanked him awake.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, giving the chocobo a halfhearted glare. “That hurt, you know.”

Zacke let out a chirp, completely unapologetic, before nuzzling against Cloud’s side again.

Cloud sighed, rubbing his temple. The adrenaline was still fading, his thoughts still struggling to untangle the mess of dreams, memories, and reality.

Then another thought struck him—one that made his exhaustion shift into wary confusion.

His summons… were still here.

Out. Manifested.

Even though he hadn’t been channeling any mana into the materia.

His gaze flickered between Zacke and the Moogle, his frown deepening. That wasn’t normal. Summons only remained active while infused with energy from the caster. Once that link was cut, they should’ve vanished back into the materia.

But here they were. Watching him. Worrying over him.

And for some reason…

They weren’t leaving.

Cloud’s stomach twisted slightly. Something wasn’t right.

“…The hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath.

Cloud froze.

Footsteps were coming in.

Three people.

He tensed up ready to pull Tsurugi.

“Don’t move. We’re taking you in.”

Chapter Text

The Mythril Mines were deathly silent, save for the distant sound of dripping water. Shadows stretched long and deep, the cavern shrouded in almost complete darkness—except for the occasional glow of mythril ore embedded in the walls.

The stones pulsed faintly, casting scattered patches of light, but it wasn’t enough to truly see.

For the Turks, at least.

Cloud sat motionless against the cold rock, his fingers curled loosely around the hilt of Tsurugi. His breathing was steady, his eyes open, watching. Even in the near-blackness, he could see perfectly—every detail, every movement, every shift in the air. The Turks were at a disadvantage.

Cloud tensed, muscles coiling, ready.

A dim beam of light swept across the cavern as the Turks moved cautiously forward, their steps careful but purposeful. The mythril ore flickered with their passing, painting ghostly reflections on the wet stone walls.

“Don’t move. We’re taking you in,” Tseng’s voice cut through the darkness, calm and authoritative.

Then his flashlight caught something unexpected.

A blue eyed chocobo blinked  at him, feathers ruffled, inches from him.

“…Kweh?”

Tseng hesitated. His gun lowered—just slightly.

Cloud moved.

In a blur, he ducked under the light’s beam, already closing the distance. His sword was in his grip, but instead of slashing, he drove the hilt of Tsurugi hard into Tseng’s gut.

The Turk staggered back with a sharp exhale, his finger twitching over the trigger but unable to fire in time.

The moment of chaos was enough.

The chocobo, sensing the shift in tension, let out a shrill cry and lunged at Rude, its talons scraping against the stone as it threw its weight forward.

WHAM!

Rude took the full force of a very determined chocobo tackling him square in the chest.

“What the—?!”

He stumbled, forced back a step, his balance thrown.

Elena reacted fast, her gun snapping up—

Only to have a blur of white fur and a red pompom launch at her face.

“Kupo-kupo!”

Elena yelped, jerking back as the moogle flapped its tiny arms wildly, hovering inches from her eyes.

“What the hell —?!” She swatted at it, barely keeping her gun steady.

Cloud didn’t hesitate.

Vanishing into the darkness, he moved like a phantom, silent, unseen.

Tseng recovered first. His flashlight beam cut through the black, searching.

Nothing.

Then— movement.

Rude twisted at the last second, instinct kicking in. Cloud’s foot lashed out, aiming to sweep him off his feet, but Rude pivoted, taking the hit and shifting his weight.

A powerful fist shot forward.

Cloud barely ducked in time. The air whistled past his ear, Rude’s strike missing by inches.

No gun. Just raw strength.

Cloud twisted, using the momentum to slam his elbow into Rude’s ribs, forcing him back.

Tseng fired.

The muzzle flash lit up the cavern for half a second—just enough to see Cloud’s form before he disappeared again into the darkness.

“Damn it,” Tseng muttered, quickly adjusting his stance.

Elena finally batted the moogle away, huffing in frustration as she swept her flashlight over the cavern.

“Can anyone see him?!”

Cloud exhaled quietly, pressing against the cavern wall.

They were relying on their lights. On sound.

But he didn’t need either.

Cloud weaved through the dim light, using the patches of mythril’s glow to his advantage, striking from the darkness before slipping away again. He lashed out with Tsurugi’s blunt edge, aiming to disarm rather than maim, but the Turks weren’t just holding their ground—they were adapting.

Fast.

Tseng barely reacted to the pain in his gut before shifting back into position, feet steady, body poised. Rude recovered from the chocobo’s surprise attack, rolling his shoulders as he squared up. Elena finally got the moogle out of her face, scowling as she leveled her pistols.

The Turks locked eyes for the briefest of moments.

Then they moved.

Tseng struck first, closing the distance with lightning speed. His fist snapped forward in a precise jab—Cloud barely tilted his head in time, feeling the force of the air just brush past his cheek.

Rude was already following up.

He slammed his fists together, the air around them shaking as he charged up.

Cloud’s enhanced reflexes kicked in just in time. He braced as Rude drove his fist into the ground. The impact sent a shockwave through the cavern, the very earth beneath them exploding upward, sending shards of rock flying.

Cloud launched himself back just as the force would have sent him skyward, flipping mid-air before landing in a crouch.

His eyes darted to Elena—just as she threw something.

Stun grenade.

The moment he saw it, he moved.

Cloud darted to the side, skidding behind a stalagmite as the grenade detonated . A burst of blinding white light flared, followed by a concussive shock that rattled the cavern.

Elena was already switching tactics.

Her pistols snapped up—

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

A concentrated beam of energy shot toward him. Cloud twisted his body, barely dodging as the blast carved a deep gash into the stone wall behind him.

No time to breathe.

Tseng was on him .

Cloud barely brought Tsurugi up in time as Tseng struck with a rapid series of blows—elbow, knee, kick—each hit precise, controlled. Cloud blocked, countered, trying to create an opening.

There.

He swung.

But before his blade could connect, Elena was there.

She kicked off the cavern wall, twisting mid-air as she fired —air?

Spouts of raw energy erupted from the ground at Cloud’s feet, forcing him to abandon his strike against Tseng and retreat .

She has materia embedded in her guns. Smart .

The moment he turned to Elena instead, Rude stepped in.

A brutal punch collided with Tsurugi, sending a powerful vibration through the sword as Cloud skidded back.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip.

They were covering each other’s weaknesses perfectly.

Just like Avalanche.

He’d forgotten how good the Turks were as a team.

No wasted movement.

No hesitation.

They moved with practiced synergy, almost instinctively falling into each other’s rhythms, forcing him to stay on the defensive longer than he liked.

Cloud tensed, eyes scanning, calculating.

He could take them down.

But he’d have to start trying.

For real.

Cloud exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on Tsurugi. His stance shifted, weight settling lower, muscles coiling like a predator preparing to strike. He’d been holding back, trying to end this without fully engaging—but the Turks were too good.

They weren’t just fighting separately.

They were fighting as one .

Which meant he had to stop underestimating them.

The cavern pulsed with the faint glow of mythril ore, but Cloud didn’t need the light. He could see them—every breath, every shift of their stance, every flicker of motion.

Time to end this.

Cloud launched himself forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet.

He was fast .

Faster than they were ready for.

Tseng barely brought his arms up before Cloud was on him. The first strike came from the side —not straight on, as expected. Tsurugi’s blunt edge slammed into Tseng’s ribs, sending him skidding back.

Cloud spun mid-motion, shifting targets—

Elena fired, but he twisted around the bullets, closing the distance before she could retreat.

She was good.

But he was better .

Cloud knocked one pistol aside with his forearm, then vanished .

Elena’s eyes widened—

Too late.

Cloud reappeared above her, descending like a meteor. His sword came down in a devastating arc—

Elena barely dove aside, but the sheer force of impact shattered the ground, sending dust and debris flying.

Rude lunged in, fist cocked back, aiming to catch Cloud as he landed—

Cloud twisted in mid-air.

One hand on the hilt of his sword, the other snapping out—

A smaller blade detached from Tsurugi’s frame.

CLANG!

The blade met Rude’s punch head-on, steel and muscle colliding in a flash of sparks.

Rude grunted, pushing back with brute strength, but Cloud wasn’t done.

Using the momentum, he flipped backward, sheathing the small blade back into Tsurugi mid-air before propelling himself off the cavern wall.

Acrobatics.

It was like he was flying .

He twisted, adjusting the angle—

Rude turned, bracing for impact—

But Cloud wasn’t aiming for him.

He threw a second blade.

It whistled through the air, forcing Elena to jerk back before it embedded itself into the cavern wall.

Cloud almost teleported , gripping the embedded blade, using it as leverage to swing himself down at her.

Elena barely got her arms up before Cloud kicked her square in the chest, sending her sprawling.

Tseng was back on his feet.

He moved fast—one second behind Cloud, the next already in close quarters.

Cloud met him head-on, sword against fist.

Tseng struck in rapid succession—blows aimed to incapacitate, not kill.

Cloud matched his speed, parrying with the flat of his blade instead of the edge, their fight turning into a deadly dance of precision and reflex.

Then—

Tseng feinted .

Cloud recognized it too late.

Tseng’s kick caught him in the side, knocking him off balance for just a second—

Rude capitalized.

Cloud barely had time to brace before Rude’s heel came crashing down like a hammer.

The impact sent him slamming into the stone, dust and rock erupting on impact.

Pain flared up his spine.

His fingers tightened on his sword.

Fine then.

He lifted his head.

The glow of mako burned in his eyes.

Then he moved .

Tsurugi split apart in a flash of steel, smaller blades detaching as Cloud vanished from sight.

The darkness exploded with motion.

A blade struck at Tseng from one side—another from behind.

Rude’s instincts kicked in, his arms coming up to block —

But Cloud was already above him, Tsurugi reforming into a single massive blade in his grip.

He descended in a blur.

The cavern shook with the impact.

Dust filled the air.

When it settled, Cloud stood, sword resting over his shoulder, breath steady.

The Turks, still standing, but shaken.

They stared at him, realization setting in.

He wasn’t holding back anymore.

Cloud tilted his head.

“Still want to keep going?”

The battle was over.

Cloud stood amidst the unconscious forms of the Turks, rolling his shoulder as the last remnants of tension left his muscles. His breath was steady, his grip on Tsurugi loose as he slid the blade back into its harness with a quiet click .

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the soft kweh of Zacke, the chocobo emerging cautiously from the sidelines. The big bird waddled over, nuzzling its feathery head against Cloud’s arm, its movements a mix of excitement and concern.

Cloud huffed a quiet chuckle, running a gloved hand down Zacke’s neck, scratching the spot he knew the bird liked best.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

A familiar kupo sounded next as the moogle fluttered down, pom-pom bouncing, tiny arms wrapping around Cloud’s head in what could only be described as a hug.

Cloud smirked, giving the little thing a pat.

“Thanks for the assist,” he murmured, amused at how the two had actually helped in the fight.

The Turks, though—

He glanced down at their unconscious forms.

He’d have to be more vigilant.

Even when outnumbered, they’d pushed him more than he liked to admit. If he hadn’t gotten serious, that fight would’ve lasted much longer than it needed to. They were still as sharp, efficient, and dangerous as ever.

Still, their mistake was challenging him here , in the dark.

That, and losing .

Which meant they wouldn’t be needing some of their things for a while.

Cloud crouched, rifling through their pockets, making quick work of the search. Between Rude and Elena, he came up with 2,500 gil, an elixir , and two armbands—one a tri-colored mix of titanium, gold, and bronze , something built for solid defense, and the other a more elegant gold and onyx design.

The ruby set in the center caught his attention.

It reminded him of Tifa’s eyes.

Cloud stared at it for a second longer before tucking it away. He’d hold onto it for her , if he ever saw her again.

Tseng, however—

Cloud pulled a credit card, a PHS , and car keys from his coat.

No Gil , no materia, nothing worth keeping for him to make use of or pawn off for extra Gil.

Still, Cloud twirled the keys between his fingers, considering.

If the Turks had driven here, somewhere in these mines, there was a Shinra car waiting for them.

He could take advantage of that.

Cloud smirked to himself as he pocketed the PHS, and shut it off, repeating the process with the other two devices he found on Rude and Elena.

He’s going to throw them out in a pit somewhere along the way. It wouldn’t take them long to track him down again, but this would definitely buy him time.

As for Tseng’s car keys…

Cloud tilted his head, scanning the cavern for the perfect hiding spot.

Something just inconvenient enough to make Tseng really regret bringing a vehicle into all of this.

He looked around til his eyes fell onto his Chocobo.

….

“Are you hungry boy? We have a few gyashi greens..”

Cloud wasn’t exactly sure if a summon is supposed to eat but it seems like it’s possible with the way Zache was staring at him.

Hmm.. yea this could work.

He had dilly-dallied long enough , as Tifa liked to put it.

It was time to get moving.

The dinner was good—better than good, really. The mashed potatoes were seasoned just right, the fried chicken crisp on the outside and juicy on the inside, and even the green beans were tolerable, despite Walker’s usual distaste for them.

But despite the warm meal and the familiar comfort of home, tension sat thick between them like an unwelcome guest at the table.

Walker barely touched his food at first, his hands trembling slightly as he toyed with his fork. Zeke could see it—he was slipping, shutting down, retreating into himself like he used to when Zeke had first taken him in. The Turks’ visit earlier had rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

Zeke’s mother, never one to let silence fester, took charge. “Eat,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. 

Walker flinched, but he obeyed. He picked at his plate, then slowly, methodically, began eating. Zeke wasn’t sure if he was hungry or just forcing himself, but either way, he wouldn’t argue.

The conversation continued, tension creeping back in as Zeke finally voiced his frustration. “How could you invite them in, Ma? Turks, Ma!” he protested, voice tight with disbelief.

His mother, unbothered as ever, merely hummed in acknowledgment. “And? He didn’t mean any harm, dear.”

Zeke nearly choked. “Didn’t mean any harm? They rattled Walker!” He gestured across the table at the young man, who was still picking at his food with a distant, vacant look in his eyes.

His mother arched a brow. “Exactly.”

Zeke stared at her. “What the hell are you saying?”

“Language,” she chided, sipping her tea. “That Turk—their leader—wasn’t cruel. Just… tense. If you paid attention, they wanted to frazzle us. I reacted exactly as they expected. If we had done anything different, it would’ve confirmed their suspicions about us.”

Zeke exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He hated how his mother was always five steps ahead. She saw the bigger picture in ways he struggled to, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

She always did like playing games with people.

The conversation shifted when she turned her attention back to Walker, noticing his plate only partially empty.

“Walker, dear, you’ve barely eaten. What’s wrong?”

Walker flinched slightly at being addressed. His grip tightened on his fork as his breath hitched. “I-I didn’t m-mean to h-hurt h-him!” he stammered suddenly, voice raw with emotion.

Zeke’s frustration vanished in an instant. His chest tightened at the sheer panic in Walker’s voice, at the way his fingers trembled against the silverware.

Damn it. He hadn’t even realized how bad Walker was spiraling.

“You didn’t hurt anyone, kid,” Zeke reassured quickly, forcing his tone to be softer.

Walker shook his head violently, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. He wasn’t here—he was somewhere else, trapped in whatever hellish memory had its claws in him.

Before Zeke could figure out what to do, his mother acted.

“Walker,” she said firmly, reaching across the table to gently take his hand. “You are not excusing yourself until you eat. And I won’t sit here and let you starve yourself again.”

Her tone left no room for argument, but it wasn’t cruel. It was steady. Certain.

Walker swallowed hard, looking between her and his plate. His lips pressed together, and after a long, shaky pause, he finally nodded. He picked up his fork and slowly—hesitantly—finished his food.

Zeke let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

When the last bites were finished, Walker set his fork down and mumbled, barely above a whisper, “Thanks for the meal…”

His voice was so quiet it made Zeke’s stomach twist with concern.

His mother, however, beamed at Walker like he’d just said something profound. “Aww! Anything for my favorite grandson!”

Walker blinked. “I’m your only grandson.”

“Exactly!” she said cheerfully.

Zeke groaned, rubbing his temples. “Ma, can we not do this tonight?”

She ignored him, instead clapping her hands together. “Now then! Walker, dear, could you clean up Sky’s bedding from last night?”

Zeke immediately scowled. “You’re already giving the boy more chores.”

His mother’s expression didn’t waver. “My house, my rules. You have chores too.”

Zeke grumbled under his breath, already knowing she had an ulterior motive. “…Fine. Whatever you say, Ma.”

Walker got up to grab the bedding, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Zeke’s mother leaned in, voice low. “Go to the side window,” she instructed. “There’s a bag. Get it.”

Zeke frowned. “Bag?”

She simply gave him a look. “Sky left it.”

His breath caught in his throat. Sky.

Without another word, he pushed back from the table, heading for the side window. He found the bag easily, tucked beneath the frame and hidden from view. His gut twisted as he pulled it inside.

By the time he returned to the kitchen, his mother was already clearing dishes, her expression unreadable. Zeke set the bag down between them and hesitated only a moment before opening it.

His stomach dropped.

Shotgun parts.

Zeke swallowed hard, glancing up at his mother, who was watching him carefully. “What the hell…?”

“A gift,” she said simply.

He gave her a look. “A gift?”

She nodded. “For Walker.”

Zeke ran a hand through his hair. “Christ.” His mind raced. Sky—whoever the hell he really was—had left this behind for Walker. Why? Did he know something they didn’t?

His mother, as if reading his thoughts, sighed. “We don’t open this can of worms tonight,” she said quietly. “The boy’s been through enough.”

Zeke clenched his jaw but nodded. She was right. Walker was barely keeping it together as it was.

“I believe Sky sees something special in our boy, and I think there’s a lesson here he wants him to understand.”

Zeke looked confused

“Sky’s sword looked ..complicated but special. Wouldn’t you say?”

Zeke could only nod.

Chapter Text

The metal of the apartment door groaned as Sephiroth braced his hand against it, intending to leave. He had places to be—meetings, duties, responsibilities that required his attention.

What he didn’t anticipate was Cloud Strife.

The blonde stormed into the room, hands pushing against Sephiroth’s chest—not hard enough to move him, but enough to make a statement. Sephiroth blinked down at him, not in shock but mild exasperation. The door clicked shut behind them, cutting off any chance of escape. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Cloud’s voice was sharp, but there was an unmistakable flicker of uncertainty beneath it. His eyes, normally bright, were dark with frustration.

Sephiroth’s expression remained impassive. “I have a meeting.”

Cloud scoffed, crossing his arms. “Bullshit.”

Sephiroth’s patience wavered, though his face betrayed nothing. “Cloud, I don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, you don’t have time?” Cloud echoed, stepping closer. “You sure as hell had time before. But ever since—” He hesitated, fingers twitching where they rested against his biceps. “Ever since the mark appeared, you’ve been acting like I don’t exist.”

Sephiroth’s gaze flickered—just for a moment—but Cloud caught it. He always did. “I’ve been busy,” Sephiroth said simply, his tone carefully neutral.

Cloud’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You think I’m stupid?”

Sephiroth exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “No. But I think you are being irrational.”

Cloud bristled, taking another step forward. “You—! Look, I don’t care if you think this soulmate thing is some kind of mistake. But you don’t get to make any further choices until you have that final discussion with me.”

Sephiroth remained still. If he moved, if he reached for Cloud, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. Cloud stared at him, eyes searching, frustration warring with something else—something more vulnerable. “Was any of it real?”

Sephiroth hesitated.

Cloud swallowed, voice dropping. “Did you mean what you said? That I—” His throat bobbed. “That I mattered to you?”

The words twisted in Sephiroth’s chest like a blade.

“Yes,” he admitted.

Cloud exhaled sharply, but the relief was short-lived. “Then why?” His voice was hoarse now. “Why the hell are you running from me?”

Sephiroth’s fingers twitched at his sides. “Because I will hurt you.”

Cloud blinked. “What?”

Sephiroth clenched his jaw, debating how much to reveal, how much to hold back. “I want you,” he said finally, voice low, measured. “And if I allow myself to have you, I won’t stop.”

Cloud’s brows drew together. “…You’ve been avoiding me because you’re afraid of what? Wanting too much?”

Sephiroth said nothing.

Cloud exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “So I’ve been told.”

Cloud sighed, dropping his hands. “You’re not some out-of-control monster, Seph.” His gaze was steady now, determined. “I trust you.”

The words hit Sephiroth harder than they should have. He had spent his life being revered, feared, used. Trust was something rarely given to him freely.

Cloud tilted his head slightly. “You’re not gonna break me.”

Sephiroth looked down at him, feeling the tenuous thread of his resolve fray.

Cloud’s lips curled into a small smirk. “Now, are you gonna stop being an idiot and kiss me, or do I have to do everything myself?”

Sephiroth moved before he could think. He never made it to that meeting.

.......

Genesis had been the one to find them, hours later. Sephiroth barely reacted when the man stepped into the room, a sharp-tongued reprimand already forming—“Is the great General Sephiroth too good for his duties?”—but the words stopped cold when Genesis took in the scene before him.

Sephiroth, tangled in the sheets, Cloud draped against his chest.

Genesis tilted his head, lips curling into a smirk. “She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. I’m rather enjoying the show.”

Sephiroth had rolled his eyes. Cloud had thrown a pillow at Genesis’s head.

Sephiroth stood at the edge of the docks, staring at the ocean, though he wasn’t truly seeing it. The sound of approaching footsteps barely registered.

“Brooding again, are we, Sephiroth?”

He didn’t react, though he knew who it was. “Aerith.” His voice was calm, even.

Aerith Gainsborough hummed as she stepped up beside him, resting her elbows on the railing. “You know, if you keep staring at the water like that, you might turn into sea foam.”

Sephiroth spared her a glance, unimpressed. “A fascinating theory.”

Aerith grinned. “Thought so.”

He sighed, looking back toward the horizon. Aerith tilted her head. “Avoiding your brother again?”

Sephiroth’s expression didn’t change. “Kadaj is an adult.”

Aerith raised an eyebrow. “Is that why he and Zack are trying to one-up each other in a ‘who loved Cloud more’ contest?”

Sephiroth hesitated. “…I don’t want to know.”

“Oh, but you do.” Aerith’s smile was all too knowing. “They’re planning a Marlboro hunt.”

Sephiroth exhaled through his nose. “That is reckless.”

Aerith shrugged. “Yeah, well. Zack’s reckless.”

That, at least, was true.

Sephiroth was silent for a moment. “And Kadaj?”

Aerith hesitated, then sighed. “Zack loved Cloud. Kadaj… idolized him. Or obsessed over him—it’s hard to tell, sometimes.” She tapped a finger against the railing. “Zack wanted Cloud to be happy. Kadaj wanted Cloud’s attention.”

Sephiroth’s grip tightened slightly. Aerith studied him. “And what about you?”

Sephiroth glanced at her. “What about me?”

Aerith’s expression softened. “How did you love him?”

Sephiroth didn’t answer right away.

The truth was… he didn’t know anymore. Once, he had thought he was protecting Cloud by staying away. Then, he had thought he was protecting him by holding him close. And in the end, none of it had mattered. Sephiroth looked back toward the sea. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Aerith hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe not.” She nudged his arm lightly. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Sephiroth didn’t answer. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but weighted with understanding.

Aerith leaned against the railing, tilting her head up toward the sky. “You know, when Cloud died… Zack asked me if there was ever a chance  the Lifestream would let him go.” She smiled wistfully. “Like, if he fought hard enough, if he loved Cloud enough… maybe the planet would listen.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly.

Aerith exhaled, voice quieter now. “But that’s not how this works.”

No, Sephiroth thought. It wasn’t.

Aerith reached out, touching his wrist lightly, drawing his attention. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know.” Sephiroth looked down at her, searching for the catch, the ulterior motive. But there was none. Just warmth, just understanding.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Aerith smiled, stepping back. “Well. If you’re done brooding, I think you have a couple of idiots to deal with.”

Sephiroth sighed. “Yes. Apparently, I do.”

Aerith’s laughter followed him as he turned toward the city, toward the problems waiting for him.

The mythril mines stretched deeper than Cloud had anticipated, the veins of luminous ore casting a faint glow along the walls, pulsing with eerie, cold light. He had moved swiftly after dispatching the Turks, pushing further into the mines with Zacke and the Moogle at his side. He had hoped the encounter with Tseng and the others was the only interruption he’d have to deal with, but he should have known better.

He could hear them before he saw them—Shinra troopers, stationed further ahead. The steady murmur of voices bounced off the cavern walls, accompanied by the occasional metallic scrape of weapons being adjusted or boots shifting against stone. Cloud pressed himself against the rough wall, signaling Zacke and the Moogle to stay low.

Eight total. Four asleep.

They were huddled near the remnants of an old mining operation, surrounded by scaffolding, broken machinery, and abandoned crates. A busted Sweeper lay slumped against a pile of ore, its metal limbs frozen mid-motion. Perfect cover. Cloud considered his options. He could take them out quickly—a few well-placed strikes, silence them before they even knew what hit them. But Vincent’s words echoed in his mind: Stealth is survival. A fight you don’t have is a fight you don’t lose.

Wise words, considering the amount of words Vince shares in long conversations.

He exhaled slowly and waited.

Tucked behind a rusted-out mining scaffold, Cloud held his breath, keeping one gloved hand pressed against Zacke’s feathered chest to keep the bird from shifting too much. Crouched low, the chocobo pressed against his side, body rigid with the effort of staying still. The Moogle nestled against Zacke’s back, its ‘kupos’ silent —probably sensing the tension in Cloud’s muscles as he listened in on the conversation unfolding ahead.

The troopers, awake, too deep in their meal-ration-fueled debate to notice the two sets of glowing mako eyes watching them from the shadows.

“Watch it, Klein! ” one of the troopers snapped as the blond nearly choked on his food. “I don’t wanna be the one to report your death to that maniac of yours. ‘Here lies Klein poisoned by Shinra’s finest cardboard-flavored protein mash.”

Klein coughed, thumping his own chest while waving off the concerned hand that reached toward him. “ Roche isn’t mine, ” he muttered, voice hoarse.

Cloud blinked.

Roche? As in Roche?

Cloud had dealt with a lot of eccentric people in his life—Sephiroth’s god complex, Hojo’s mad scientist act, Don Corneo’s everything —but Roche? Roche was a category. The man was like a sentient explosion, fueled by mako, adrenaline, and an unhealthy obsession with speed. He fought like every battle was a dramatic duel to the death, flirted like he was starring in his own one-man show, and had exactly zero regard for personal space. Cloud had spent most of their encounters dodging both Roche’s bike and his enthusiasm , and honestly? He wasn’t sure which one was more dangerous.

Cloud barely stopped himself from peering over the crate again, but curiosity gnawed at him. This…Klein—was tangled up with Roche? And not just Roche being Roche?

“Kinda hard to claim that when the man has your name tattooed on his wrist,” another trooper—Ford—pointed out, unimpressed as he scraped at his tin of rations. “Klein. Come on. He went out of his way to get your name inked into his skin—practically forced the tattoo artist, if Valdez is to be believed.”

Klein flinched, but his voice remained steady. “He doesn’t have a soul mark.”

“Neither do you,” Ford shot back, jabbing his fork in the air. “And yet here we are.”

Cloud exhaled slowly through his nose. There it is again… the soul mate business Walker and Zeke were trying desperately to make him comprehend.A tattoo wasn’t exactly a soul mark, but it was definitely a choice. Roche wasn’t exactly subtle about his affections. He went full throttle, figuratively and literally. But even Cloud think’s this is a bit odd.

“Man, I don’t know what you see in him,” another trooper—Roberts,  grumbled—muttered. “Roche is… Roche. ”

“Yeah, no shit,” Torres cut in, leaning back on his hands. “He’s got the personality of a grenade and the impulse control of a headless chocobo. Not to mention the old ‘ fascination with certain blond trooper’ .”

Klein tensed.

Cloud arched a brow. Okay. Now this was getting interesting.

“That’s not—”

“You do know that, right?” Roberts cut him off. “The guy was obsessed with Cloud. Used to talk about him constantly. Challenge him to bike races. Lose. Then challenge him again. It was practically his religion. ”

Klein clenched his jaw, but Ford intervened before he could respond. “It’s not that simple,” he said, casting Roberts a sharp glance. “Roche and Strife were friends.”

Cloud’s skepticism shot through the roof. Friends was a strong word.

“Yeah?” Torres snorted. “And yet I distinctly remember Roche riding up to base one night, revving his engine loud enough to piss off the entire barracks, and dramatically declaring that ‘ Cloud Strife is the only rival worthy of my tires!’ ” He gestured wildly. “Not ‘my best friend’ or ‘the guy I respect’ but rival. ”

“Because that’s just Roche,” Ford reasoned. “Everything is a race or a challenge to him.”

“There’s a fine line between rivals and Roche’s version of rivals.” Roberts folded his arms. “So what happens when he finally realizes that Klein isn’t Cloud?”

Klein flinched again, but Roberts wasn’t finished. “What if this whole thing is just another one of his delusions?” he pressed. “Maybe he’s in denial—maybe he’s just convincing himself that Klein is the person he lost. Because guess what? Roche might not have had a soul mark with Cloud, but he sure as hell wanted one.”

Cloud inhaled sharply.

Oh. ...... That was…something.

Klein opened his mouth, closed it again. Looked down at his barely touched rations with something tight in his expression. Cloud recognized that look. That doubt. That internal war between wanting something and knowing it might not be real. “You’re wrong,” Klein muttered. But it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t confident. It sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself.

Ford sighed. “Look, Klein. We’re not saying he doesn’t care about you. It’s just—”

“It’s just that I think the guy’s a reckless dumbass who probably loves his motorcycle more than any person alive,” Torres interjected bluntly. “ And I hate that he never uses the damn brakes.”

“ Thank you, Torres,” Ford deadpanned.

Torres shrugged. “I had to put it out there.”

Klein dragged a hand down his face. “You guys don’t understand,” he muttered. “Roche is…” He trailed off, but Cloud already knew.

Roche was everything. He was energy, recklessness, adrenaline. He pushed people into his orbit and kept them there whether they wanted to be or not.

And Klein—Klein wanted to be there.

Cloud could hear it in his voice.

“You really like him, huh?” Ford’s voice softened slightly.

Klein hesitated. Nodded. “I do.” There was a lingering.

“Then I hope it’s real,” Ford said, quieter now. “I really do.”

Roberts looked unconvinced. Torres still looked annoyed. And Klein looked like he was balancing on the edge of something dangerous and choosing to stay there. Cloud exhaled.

Well. This was not what he had planned on learning today.

Cloud’s stomach twisted, but he didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He moved, fast and silent, slipping past the troopers as they continued their conversation. He felt a bit bad for Klein but that’s something the kid will have to tackle on his own.

He wondered though…

There was something familiar about Klein, but Cloud couldn’t place it. A nagging itch in the back of his mind, a memory blurred at the edges. He caught himself frowning, searching his brain for any recollection—had they crossed paths back when he was a trooper? Had they trained together? But no matter how hard he tried to grasp at the thread, it slipped through his fingers. 

Just another casualty of too many mako baths.  It left an uneasy feeling in his gut. Because if Klein was someone from his past, and Cloud couldn’t remember him… then what had happened to him back in his original world?

Zacke followed his lead perfectly, crouching low, its tiny wings barely making a sound. Cloud guided them forward, finally taking advantage of the bickering troopers to mask any noise they made.

They had almost made it to the next tunnel when Torres abruptly stood.

“ God, this is so stupid! ”

Cloud froze.

The other troopers turned as Torres stomped toward the edge of the chamber, frustration clear in his voice. “Oi, Torres! Don’t go wandering off on your own!” Ford called.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ babysitter, Ford!”

Cloud exhaled through his nose. That might… be a problem . With the trooper taking a stroll through their escape route…

Doesn’t matter no time to dawdle

He motioned for Zacke to follow—only for the bird to let out a small, happy chirp.

“Kweh!”

Cloud clenched his teeth, immediately pressing a hand over Zacke’s beak.

“Shhh!”

Robert jerked his head up. “Did you hear that??”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Nice try, Robert , but I’m not falling for that again.”

“No, I swear I just heard a Chocobo!”

Ford smirked. “Really?  In the mines? You’re losing your touch, man.”

Robert looked genuinely distressed. “I’m serious! ”

“You’re just paranoid,” Ford said. “Careful, or we’re gonna start calling you The Trooper Who Cried Chocobo. ”

“You wouldn’t…”

“Wanna bet?”

Cloud didn’t wait for the conversation to continue. He guided Zacke into the next tunnel, the sounds of the troopers’ voices fading behind him.

Bear the entrance  of the corridors of the mythril mines, the Turks gathered in a rough, makeshift huddle after Strife’s devastating ambush. Their PHS were gone, their materia pilfered—leaving them with nothing but a few pathetic potions.  Tseng rifled through his pockets with a measured, wry tone. “The keys are gone”, his voice low and laced with quiet irony.

He turned to his comrades, each held a face of dread, realized how fucked they are at the very moment. They have no way to contact for backup, call a helicopter, and are almost defenseless against fiends if they head deeper in the mines.

Not completely defenseless but it’s pretty stupid to travel deeper without any proper gear and precautions. So they were stranded. They need those damn keys.

Thank you Cloud Strife.

After an hour of crawling through the barely lit passages, Elena’s impatience finally broke the silence. “This is asshat! He’s fucking screwing with us,” she snapped, her tone a mix of disbelief and anger. Rude merely grunted, his expression grim as he surveyed their losses.

Their search took an unexpected turn when there was a sudden squishing sound—

Rude stepping carelessly over uneven ground—planted his foot squarely in a fresh pile of monster excrement. A mocking jingle rang out as their car keys clattered amid the filth. his boot sank into the foul mass with a sickening squelch, and he cursed under his breath, face twisted in disgust—the Turks definitely reached a new low.

Elena nearly exploded. The stench was overwhelming, and with a huff that bordered on indignation, she waved her hand wildly  to dispel the smell. “Thi-this!” she shrieked, her voice slicing through the tense silence. “Damn it him!  My PHS! —need to immortalize—for Reno!” Her rant sent a ripple of annoyance through the group, punctuated by exasperated glances from Tseng and Rude.

The Turks were nursing their bruised egos, caught in an intensely messy, all-too-human moment of disgust and derision.

Rude’s eyes widened in disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he hissed.

Tseng couldn’t help but let a dry chuckle escape. “The target clearly has a twisted sense of humor.“ With a resigned sigh, he added, “We regroup with the others, cut him off before he reaches Junon, and then report to Rufus. He’ll want to know that Strife isn’t just an elusive ghost—”

Elena scowled, still eyeing the keys with a mixture of disgust and determination. “I’m not touching those,” she grumbled, “saying that now before you pull the order.”

Tseng and Elena both look at Rude.

…..

“Fine”

They prepared to track down their elusive target—and reclaim their stolen pride.

Chapter Text

Torres walked away from the campfire, his boots crunching against the loose gravel as he put as much distance as possible between himself and the others. He didn’t need to listen to that conversation any longer— Klein this, Roche that. It was a damn mess, and he was done pretending it didn’t irritate the hell out of him.

He muttered under his breath, scowling. Why do I even care?

He didn’t. He shouldn’t.

And yet, the more he tried to shove it down, the more it gnawed at him.

He kicked a loose rock with more force than necessary. It skittered across the cavern floor, landing somewhere in the dark.

Klein was an idiot. That much was obvious. Roche was a lunatic—no question there. But why did it bother him so much? Why did the mere mention of them together make something twist inside him?

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. It’s not about them. It’s just—

His thoughts hit a dead end. Because if it wasn’t about them, then what was it?

Torres clenched his jaw. No. He wasn’t going down that road. He wasn’t some lovesick idiot, wasn’t getting pulled into their disaster. He hated Roche. That was it. End of story.

His fingers twitched.

Then why does it feel like a lie?

He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he leaned against the cavern wall, willing his mind to shut up. Klein was a fool for getting close to Roche. Torres was just trying to make him see that. That’s all this was.

Nothing more. Nothing personal .

Klein and Roche.

Roche and Klein.

Damn, he missed Cloud.

They weren’t the closest friends, but having him around made Klein and Roche less… weird.

Torres sighed, and closed his eyes, all he saw was that reckless grin—

And it wasn’t clear who it belonged to.

He continued his pace through the dimly lit corridors of the mine, the soft glow of the moss barely illuminating the jagged rock walls. His thoughts remained a tangled mess, looping between his irritation and the nagging feeling that he didn’t want to name.

Then, something brushed his shoulder.

Torres flinched, spinning around, rifle halfway raised.

Nothing.

His eyes darted around, scanning the empty tunnel. His heartbeat ticked up a notch. Alright. Maybe I need sleep.

He turned back and took another step—

His rifle strap suddenly loosened.

He barely caught it before it could slip off his shoulder. His pulse jumped. “ What the hell? ” Then, his helmet jerked forward.

“ SON OF A—! ”

He whirled around, rifle raised, but—again—nothing.

A slow, creeping unease slithered down his spine. He swallowed hard.

He wasn’t alone.

But there was no sound—no footsteps, no breathing. Just the stillness of the cave, stretching out in all directions.

Torres exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “ Nope. Nope, I need sleep. ”

He took another step forward.

Something bopped him on the back of the head.

Torres froze.

His fingers tightened around the rifle, his body going rigid. His breath came in short, controlled bursts. He forced himself to turn, inch by inch.

Nothing.

“ Alright, ” he muttered, voice low and tense. “ Whoever’s screwing with me is about to catch a bullet. ”

Only silence answered him.

Then—

A faint noise. Soft, but unmistakable.

A quiet, muffled kweh.

Torres went stock-still.

His breath hitched. His ears strained to pick up any movement, but all he caught was his own pulse hammering in his skull.

His grip on his rifle tightened. That was definitely a chocobo noise. And unless one of the guys back at camp had lost their minds and decided to drag a bird underground, there was absolutely no reason for him to be hearing it in the mines.

Then— absolute silence.

At first, he thought it was just his paranoia playing tricks on him.

But then, as the seconds passed, the weight of the stillness pressed down on him.

Torres barely had time to process it before a deep, earth-shaking rumble vibrated through the cave floor.

His instincts screamed. His stomach twisted with a sharp, primal unease.

At first, he thought it was a cave-in—a distant rockslide somewhere in the tunnels. But then the sound came again, closer this time, like something immense was shifting, dragging itself free from the cavern walls.

The dim light from the glowing moss barely reached the jagged rock formations ahead, but something moved within the darkness. Something huge.

A low, grinding noise— stone scraping against stone —filled the cavern, sending a sharp spike of dread through his gut.

Then, molten embers flickered in the blackness, like a pair of burning eyes slowly opening.

Torres took a step back, rifle raised. His pulse pounded in his ears.

What the hell is that?

The darkness stirred. A massive form lurched forward, dislodging itself from the surrounding rock with a shuddering crack. Dust and debris rained down as thick, hulking limbs emerged— limbs that shouldn’t have been moving.

The ground trembled beneath its weight.

Torres’s breath hitched. His mind scrambled for an answer, for some kind of recognition of what he was looking at.

Then, those burning embers—its eyes —snapped onto him.

A heavy, oppressive force settled over his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. The creature moved, the grinding of its limbs sending shockwaves through the tunnel.

Torres’s legs locked in place. His throat constricted.

And then—

The thing lunged.

Klein felt the entire interrogation like a gut punch.

“Do you guys… think I’m nuts?”

Robert scoffed. “Open your damn eyes. He wanted Cloud back then, but Cloud had his own soulmate, and now that Cloud’s gone, guess who he latched onto? You. The poor, blond, bargain-bin substitute.”

Klein clenched his fists.

“Robert, cool it!.”

“Are you purposely being oblivious?,” Roberts ignores Fords “ Jesus you’re lucky you have your looks.I feel bad for Torres.”

“Okay, first of all,” Klein snapped.

But Ford sighed, rubbing his face. “Look, Robert is an ass, but he’s not wrong. Roche might think you’re his soulmate, but he thought the same thing about Cloud. And you know how that ended.”

Klein flinched. He did.

Roberts, ever the wildcard, shrugged. “Ya know, maybe he does like him.”

Fords gave Robert a look. “ Aren’t you one of the anti-Roche in this mess?”

“I support drama,” Robert said, smirking. “Messy drama.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “You’re both ⸻.”

A bloodcurdling scream shattered the conversation.

Ford bolted upright. “Shit—”

Klein grabbed his rifle, shaking off his spiraling thoughts. “What the hell was that?”

Roberts was already moving, gun in hand. “Sounded like Torres!” Fords and he kicked the others awake to move—

They ran, boots pounding against stone as the cavern walls closed in around them. The flickering firelight barely reached this far, and the deeper they went, the colder it got. Klein’s heart hammered against his ribs.

“Torres!” Ford called, voice tight. “Torres, where are you?!”

No answer.

Klein’s stomach churned. Not again. Not again.

Then they found him.

Limp body. Torres’s rifle lay nearby, bent like it had been crushed in an iron grip. Klein’s breath caught as his eyes widened —toward the hulking thing looming in the shadows.

He barely had time to process its sheer size before the firelight caught its metallic sheen. The creature shifted, its jagged, steel-like body groaning under its own weight. “What the fuck is that?”

Ford paled. “Mythril Golem.” His voice was grim, steady in a way that made Klein’s stomach drop further. “We walked into its territory.”

The golem’s glowing eyes locked onto them, its plated fists shifting as it stepped forward. Each movement sent a deep tremor through the ground. Klein barely had time to register the sound of Roberts cursing before the golem let out a low, mechanical growl—then charged.

“Move!” Ford barked.

Klein dove, barely avoiding the massive fist that slammed into the ground where he had just stood. The force of the impact sent shards of rock flying.

Robert fired his rifle, bullets pinging harmlessly off the golem’s armor. “Bullets aren’t doing shit!” He yelled.

Klein scrambled for cover, gripping his rifle so hard his fingers ached. His mind raced. Torres is dead. Roberts is next. We’re next.

The golem turned toward them again, its massive form blocking the only exit.

No way out.

Ford yelled into his communicator, his voice sharp with urgency. “Command! We need backup now! We’ve got a—”

Static.

Reinforcements weren’t coming fast enough.

The golem’s fist slammed down , barely missing Klein as he scrambled backward. Shit, shit, shit—

Ford fired his rifle, but the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the creature’s thick plating, barely leaving a scratch. Instead of slowing down, the golem roared in fury , its glowing eyes burning brighter.

“We need to fall back—” Ford started.

But Torres’s body was still there.

Klein’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to make it out.

Then, Roche’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Speed, my friend! Fearless!”

Klein exhaled sharply. Be fearless.

He grabbed a rock and hurled it straight at the golem’s face.

“Hey, ugly!”

The rock clanged off its metallic skull. The golem’s head snapped toward him.

Ford gawked. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Klein forced a grin , gun raised. “Buying us time.”

The golem let out a deep, grating roar. ⸻

Klein fought like hell.

Ducking, dodging, firing— he was moving like Roche. Fast and unpredictable.

For a moment, he believed he could do this.

Then, a mistake. He was distracted .

A pink blur flickered in his peripheral vision— small, winged, fluttering past.

What…?

The golem struck.

The back of its fist caught him mid-dodge, the sheer force lifting him off his feet.

A sharp, cracking pain exploded through his ribs as he slammed into the cavern wall. The impact stole the air from his lungs.

Klein hit the ground hard. His rifle clattered from his grip. His vision blurred. His limbs felt too heavy to move.

Before he could process it, the golem roared again, its massive form shifting to finish him off.

Then— a flash of steel.

A streak of yellow hair.

A blade, massive and precise, cutting through the air.

The golem reeled back, sparks flying as metal clashed against metal.

Klein’s gaze drifted , unfocused, toward their rescuer.

Familiar. That hair.

No way…

The battle raged on, but Klein’s body betrayed him.

His eyelids grew too heavy.

The last thing he saw was the swordsman moving like lightning, striking the golem with impossible speed— keeping it away from the fallen troopers.

Then, darkness swallowed him whole.

Cloud tore through the cavern with all the speed his legs—and his obnoxiously fast chocobo—could manage, hauling ass toward the exit.

North exit? No, south? He couldn’t remember. The layout of the Mythril Mines was a blur, and he didn’t have the luxury of stopping to figure it out. His only concern was putting as much distance between himself and the Turks as humanly possible.

And, of course, keeping his loud-ass, curious bird from giving away his position.

“ Kweh! ” Zacke flapped his wings enthusiastically, apparently thrilled by their daring escape. Cloud not so much.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it down,” he muttered, gripping the reins tighter as they weaved around stalagmites and uneven terrain.

If the Turks weren’t already planning to cut him off outside the mines, they’d definitely be reconsidering now. He had to move fast.

But then he spotted something ahead—someone, actually.

A lone trooper.

Cloud skidded to a halt, pressing himself against the rock wall. Zacke, however, took an extra few steps before realizing whoops, his human wasn’t moving anymore. The chocobo turned back, tilting his head quizzically.

Cloud narrowed his eyes. He recognized the trooper—Torres, wasn’t it? The one who had seemed particularly bitter about Roche earlier.

Cloud frowned. He forgot about him… not ideal. Alright, options.

Knock him out. A solid choice, but risky. There was no telling how long Torres would be unconscious, and leaving him alone in the mines with fiends lurking around felt—okay, maybe not completely heartless, but still kinda messed up.

Sneak past. Normally easy. Except for one tiny issue: the giant bird. Zacke was anything but subtle, and no amount of sneaking would hide the fact that a chocobo was just there, standing in the middle of a dimly lit cave like some ridiculous omen.

Cloud sighed, rubbing his temples.

As if on cue, something small, white, and incredibly unhelpful floated away from his side. Cloud’s stomach dropped.

“ No. No, no, no. ”

The moogle summon drifted closer to Torres, who was still standing there—completely unaware of his impending torment.

Cloud stiffened. “ Don’t you dare. ”

The moogle turned, and dared.

With a cheeky twirl, it disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the faintest shimmer of magic in the air.

Zacke, completely oblivious to Cloud’s growing horror, let out an excited kweh! and hopped a little, clearly thrilled by whatever nonsense was about to go down.

Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose. I hate my life.

At first, Torres didn’t notice anything. He was still caught up in the existential crisis he was having.

Then—his rifle strap suddenly loosened.

Torres blinked, gripping it before it could slip off his shoulder. “What the—?”

Before he could process it, his helmet suddenly jerked forward, like someone had yanked it from behind.

“ What the hell!? ” He spun around, but of course, nothing was there.

Cloud, from his not-so-safe distance, watched with the growing dread of a man who had long lost control of the situation.

He tried frantically signaling to the moogle.

Come back here, you little—

The moogle waved cheerfully.

Cloud switched tactics, desperately miming NO, STOP, BAD SUMMON.

Zacke, misinterpreting the whole thing, got super into it, flapping his wings excitedly and bouncing in place.

“ KWEH! ”

Torres tensed at the sound, his hand going to his weapon.

Cloud froze.

Torres hesitated, then shook his head. “Nope. Nope, I need sleep.”

Cloud let out a quiet breath of relief.

Then the moogle struck again. A small, mischievous pom-pom bopped Torres on the back of the head.

“ SON OF A—! ” Torres whirled around, rifle raised, but again—nothing.

Cloud nearly ate his glove trying to stifle his groan.

Torres’s breathing was getting heavier now, his fingers twitching. “ I swear to Ifrit, if someone’s messing with me, I will— ”

The moogle floated lazily past him, unseen.

Cloud clenched his fists, preparing to physically fight his own summon if necessary.

Then he noticed something.

Torres, now beyond irritated, had started mumbling something under his breath about Roche being the bane of his existence.

But Cloud wasn’t listening anymore.

Because the mines had gone silent.

No chittering fiends in the distance. No rustling of smaller creatures in the dark. Even Zacke’s usual excited kweh-ing had quieted. Cloud’s grip tightened on his sword.

Torres, too lost in his own thoughts, hadn’t noticed yet.

Then, a deep, unnatural rumble vibrated through the ground.

Torres froze. His annoyance melted into confusion. He turned his head slightly, finally picking up on the change in atmosphere.

Cloud didn’t breathe.

The rumble came again, closer this time, accompanied by the sound of shifting stone—

Cloud’s stomach twisted. That’s not good.

Then, he remembered.

The hulking shadow pulled itself free from the rock wall, dust and debris cascading from its massive frame. Two burning embers of molten light blinked open.

Oh, this is cranky boy. Barret would be very happy he remembered that stupid name.

Torres, however, had no clue what he was looking at.

Cloud saw the exact moment panic settled in—the way Torres’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening on his weapon.

Then, the creature moved.

A deep, guttural grinding sound echoed through the mines as it took its first step forward. The cavern shook.

Torres’s chest rose and fell sharply. His hands trembled.

The golem’s eyes snapped onto him. Torres sucked in a sharp breath.

And screamed.—

A blur of pink and white darted through the chaos, barely visible against the cavern’s dim glow then a sudden gust kicked up dust and loose rock, sweeping through the cavern like a storm. The golem, mid-swing, hesitated as the wind howled, disrupting its balance.

And in that fleeting moment, the tiny creature its move. Cloud’s eyes narrowed as he watched his moogle, impossibly light, ride the wind. It swooped down, Torres lifted into the air with the gush of wind. The sudden force of movement jerked Torres’s body, his limbs flailing limply before his he was knocked into the ground— the jolt knocking him out cold.

Unexplainable summon with Inexplainable magic.

He’s thanking any and all Gaia’s that’s listening for it.

But that relief was short lived, the rest of the troopers arrived. Cloud’s stomach twisted as he saw them rushing back in.

Idiots.

They barely made it into cover before realizing what they were up against.

One of them wasted no time, unloading bullets into the golem’s plated torso.

Cloud clenched his jaw. Wrong move.

The Mythril Golem didn’t feel pain like an organic enemy. It didn’t bleed, didn’t stagger. Golems had no vital points. Shooting center mass was pointless.

It only pissed the thing off.

The golem let out a guttural grinding roar and swung hard. Cloud watched, dread pooling in his gut, as one of the troopers wasn’t fast enough.

The golem’s fist connected. The trooper was sent flying, their body crumpling against a rock formation with a sickening crack.

Cloud’s grip on the Tsuragi tightened. He was about to charge in when—

A reckless blur of motion darted into the open.

Cloud’s stomach dropped.

Klein.

Cloud barely processed the way the kid moved—his steps fast, and confident, too reckless.

Shit.

Cloud whistled sharply. Zacke, his ever-loyal Chocobo, was already in motion.   “Bodies. Now!”Cloud didn’t even need to give a full command. The bird understood. He sprinted across the battlefield, weaving past debris and dodging the golem’s swings with ridiculous agility.

Zacke let out a sharp “Wark!” and skidded to a stop by Roberts’s body first. With practiced ease, Zacke gripped the trooper’s uniform in his beak, heaved him up, and took off, carrying the unconscious trooper to safety.

Cloud didn’t wait for Zacke to return. Klein was still facing off with the golem mid-swing.

In a single fluid motion, he surged forward, sword raised. Metal met metal.

The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the cavern, the sound of the clash reverberating through the stone walls. Sparks scattered from the blade’s edge as Cloud blocked the golem’s crushing strike —the sheer weight of it nearly forcing him to the ground.

But Cloud gritted his teeth and held firm.

Klein was still on the ground. Defenseless.

With a sharp inhale, Cloud twisted his grip, angling the sword.

And then— he struck.

Chapter Text

Sounds fragmented around Klein—pops, crackles, muffled shouting. Everything warped and distant , like he was hearing it through water.

He was floating.

No— he was freezing… burning?

Something inside him felt like it was scorching ice from within, radiating out to every nerve ending. A dull awareness nudged at his senses, but Klein clung to the void, desperate to sink back into unconsciousness.

A voice cut through the haze. “Move!”

A blur of a face entered his field of vision, but Klein barely registered it. Instead, he tried to make sense of the shifting shadows before him —flickering sparks, erratic movement, the distant glow of something massive and unnatural.

His mind grasped at an absurd thought. Was he watching Mogzilla?

It had that same surreal, high-budget monster movie quality —flashes of green and hulking, shifting mass, explosions sparking against an unstoppable force.

“Klein, move, dammit!”

The name barely registered.

He groaned, shifting slightly— agony tore through him. His body screamed in protest , pain erupting along his side. His vision wavered , spots of black threatening to pull him under again.

But the shouting wouldn’t stop.

“Almost there! Just hold on—”

Klein barely had time to process the words before another deep, earth-shaking roar reverberated through the cavern. A shadow loomed, something colossal shifting in his periphery.

Then, suddenly—

“FIRE!”

Gunshots rang out, adding to the chaos. Someone cursed. The air felt thick . More movement. More shouting.

Klein’s senses flickered in and out like a failing signal.

Then—a piercing wail.

His sluggish mind latched onto the sound , something high-pitched and oddly distressed.

Klein’s vision snapped into sharp clarity just in time to see the impossible.

A Chocobo was kicking the shit out of Mogzilla.

His battered, aching brain short-circuited.

The bird was aggressively flapping its wings and landing rapid, pinpoint kicks against the monster’s enormous form. Klein blinked. What kind of new Mogzilla sequel was this?

“What the hell is that thing doing?” someone yelled nearby.

Klein, still dazed, exhaled in pure wonder. “This is the best movie ever.”

The golem —because that’s what it really was, even if his mind refused to fully grasp it— reared back. The Chocobo hopped away at the last second, peeping in alarm.

It tried to puff up intimidatingly. “Kwehhh—!”

Klein nearly lost his grip on reality.

The golem wasn’t impressed. Its fist came down.

A burst of frost split the air.

Ice spiked up from the ground, locking the golem’s massive hand in place just inches away from crushing the tiny Chocobo.

Klein stared.

A figure— not the Chocobo —stepped into his blurry vision. A massive sword. A single, precise strike.

The golem reeled back, the sheer force of the attack splitting its rocky plating.

Klein felt like he was watching a cutscene. The blond warrior stood firm, sword lowered. His stance effortless, calculated. Klein’s gaze dragged upward, catching glimpses of that familiar hair again.

His breath caught.

“…Cloud?”

The warrior stilled.

Klein didn’t see his expression—his vision was already fading again, the weight of his injuries dragging him back under. The last thing he felt was a deep, aching sense of déjà vu.

And then—

Darkness.

Blood dripped down Ford’s face, warm and thick, pooling into the collar of his uniform. His head was pounding , his skull cracked open somewhere along the way , but he had no time to stop and think about it.

He was too busy dragging Klein’s half-conscious body across the cavern floor.

His boots slid against the loose gravel, slipping in the blood  smeared across the ground. Around him, the shattered remains of their squad were trying—some failing —to get the hell out of the golem’s kill zone.

Gunfire rang out, sharp, desperate bursts , bullets pinging harmlessly off the fiend’s rocky exterior. Useless. The troopers were panicking.

Ford tried to do a headcount as he moved, but his vision blurred in and out , making it impossible.

Klein was muttering something , voice slurred. “Best…movie ever…”

Ford gritted his teeth. What the fuck is he talking about?

A boom shook the cavern— another strike from the golem.

Ford staggered , glancing around in a frantic daze. Where was Robert?

His breath hitched when he spotted one of his troopers crawling across the ground —dragging his own half-destroyed body with his arms. For a second, Ford thought the guy had no legs.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He pushed forward, dragging Klein harder. He had no idea if Robert was still alive, no time to get to Torres’s body — And one by one, his team was dying. Being crushed like precious, fragile ceramic.

Robert couldn’t move.

The world was spinning , his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. The weight of rock, blood, and pure hopelessness pressed down on him.

This was it.

He was going to die here in these godforsaken mines, and no one was going to dig him out.

No retrieval. No funeral. Just another KIA, name carved onto a cold-ass plaque.

And for what?

He didn’t even know what this mission was really for. Some shady reconnaissance job. They were supposed to be looking for something.

Something important. But what?

Robert had never asked. He always left the briefings to Ford.

Now, it felt like the dumbest decision of his life.

Because now , he was going to die without even knowing why.

His fingers twitched , barely registering feeling. His legs were dead weight. His rifle was a few feet away , just out of reach.

The golem roared —a monstrous , earth-rattling sound.

Robert forced himself to focus on the battlefield.

Chaos.

Gunfire. Screams. Bodies.

And—

A Moogle.

The tiny creature was zipping between the debris , ducking under falling rock, and somehow not getting killed.

What the hell is going on?

Then his eyes landed on something else—

A lone fighter, standing against the golem.

Robert froze.

The figure moved with precision , sword clashing against fist, rock, and dust.

Robert’s breath stalled in his throat.

The way the fighter dodged and countered , the flow of movement , the ice bursting from his blade—

His dead friend was taking on a fucking rock monster.

Robert stared.

That’s Cloud Strife.

His brain rejected it. It was impossible.

Cloud had never fought like that.

When the fuck did he get this good?

When the fuck did he learn magic?

Robert’s mind short-circuited even further when something yellow and feathery entered his line of sight.

The Chocobo. The same one from earlier.

It stared at him. Robert blinked. “…Hey, man.” The Chocobo tilted its head.

“Listen, uh…” Robert swallowed, vision swimming. “I don’t suppose you have a med kit in those feathers?” The Chocobo blinked. Robert wheezed out a laugh, half-delirious. “Didn’t think so.”

The bird inched closer , tilting its head as if… considering something. Then, to Robert’s shock, it gently nudged him.

Not a peck. Just— comfort.

Robert swallowed. And then, before he could react—

The damn bird grabbed him.

“WHOA—WAIT—”

In one smooth motion, the Chocobo hauled Robert onto its back like he weighed nothing. Then, it ran. Straight through the battlefield. Right under Cloud and the golem.

Robert’s heart nearly exploded as they sprinted through the chaos.

Above him, Cloud blocked another of the golem’s monstrous swings , the impact sending sparks flying off his blade. Robert gawked —Cloud was right there.

Alive.

Fighting.

Real.

What the actual fuck.

The Chocobo kept moving, dodging debris, its eyes sharp, its movements too smart to be just a dumb bird. Robert’s head spun.

It wasn’t just saving him.

It was saving the others.

And as they swept past another fallen trooper, the bird grabbed him, too. Robert’s stomach twisted.

This bird is smarter than half our unit.

He looked up at the battle again—at Cloud, at the impossible fight—And for the first time in his life, he had no goddamn idea what was real anymore.

Ford barely managed to drag Klein to the sidelines of the cavern , collapsing onto the rocky ground. His breath came in ragged gasps , every limb aching , every nerve screaming from exertion and pain.

His vision swam as he looked back at the impossible fight unfolding before him.

His brain refused to process it.

Former trooper Cloud Strife.

He was moving like something out of a legend , deflecting the golem’s strikes with inhuman precision , his sword catching the dim light of the cavern.Every clash sent sparks flying , the sheer force shaking the ground with each impact.

Then Cloud used magic.

A blast of ice erupted from his sword, the jagged frost latching onto the golem’s rocky limbs, slowing its movements.

Ford’s stomach lurched , gagging on disbelief. This wasn’t possible. And yet—

KWEH!

Ford jerked violently at the sharp cry, twisting around just in time to see—

The same fearless, crazy bird from before, sprinting toward him. It was carrying two bodies. One of them was Robert.

“ HOLY SHIT! ” he choked, breath hitched. The chocobo skidded to a stop, lowering its body gently to let the injured men slide off. Then, without hesitation, it turned and bolted racing straight back into the war zone.

He scrambled over to Robert, his hands shaking. “ Robert! ”

Robert groaned, his face twisted in pain. He blinked up at Ford, dazed. “…Fuck, man,” Robert rasped. “Did we die?”

Ford laughed . Robert’s eyes fluttered weakly , searching. “Klein?”

Ford gritted his teeth , shifting so Robert could see. “ He’s right here ,’” barely managing to focus on Klein’s unconscious form beside them.

Robert exhaled shakily. “Good,” he muttered. Ford swallowed hard. His throat felt tight —a lump forming that he refused to acknowledge.

He glanced back at the battle.

The golem roared , its frozen limbs cracking, breaking free , its next attack swinging fast and hard. Cloud dodged with impossible speed , flipping over the incoming fist before slamming his sword down in a brutal counter. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the cavern. The remaining troopers, all wounded, all barely holding on , could do nothing but stare. Some looked shocked. Some looked in denial.

One even muttered, “I must be hallucinating.”

Because there— right in front of them— all who has eyes

Cloud Strife was alive. And he was fighting alone against something that had wiped out half their team.

Then—

“ TORRES! ”

The shout snapped them all back to reality.

Ford whipped his head around. There— barreling toward them at full speed was the Chocobo again. With a pink glowing moogle trailed behind it. The little creature flitted above Torres’s limp body , its tiny form barely visible in the dim cavern light. The Chocobo skidded to a halt , carefully lowering Torres to the ground beside Robert.

Robert, barely holding onto consciousness, let out a weak chuckle.

“You didn’t have a medic kit, ” he muttered, “but this is just as great.”

Ford let out a shaky breath. His chest ached with something too big to name.

Because Torres was alive.

Barely breathing, fucked up beyond belief , but alive.

Call him selfish—he knew that most of their unit wasn’t making it out of this.

But his friends—His team— Were still here.

All thanks to the man who wasn’t supposed to be.

Ford glanced back at the battlefield, at the impossible, unbelievable sight of Cloud standing alone against the golem.

The moogle flitted closer, its tiny wings buzzing with urgency as it stopped right in front of Ford’s face. Its pink glow flickered erratically, almost like it was trying to communicate something. Ford, still struggling to wrap his head around everything, squinted at it in sheer confusion. His mind was still half-frozen in shock, still catching up to the reality of Cloud Strife being alive —but now, he had to deal with a goddamn moogle getting in his face?

The creature let out an insistent “Kupo!” and waved its tiny arms in a way that made Ford feel like it was scolding him. Then, without waiting for him to react, it zipped away, leaving behind a soft, glowing pink trail. The light shimmered in the air, stretching toward a section of the cavern that Ford hadn’t even noticed before.

His dazed brain barely had time to register the implication.

The moogle wasn’t just flying around randomly. It was showing them the way out.

Ford turned, glancing at Robert, who was still slumped against Torres, his breathing ragged. The other troopers—those who could still move —were beginning to take notice of the moogle’s glowing path. Eyes wide with exhaustion and pain, they hesitated , torn between blind panic and the desperate hope of survival.

Ford didn’t hesitate. “ Follow it! ” he rasped, his voice raw from shouting, from pain, from the sheer insanity of this situation.

One by one, the remaining troopers began to push themselves to their feet, those who could still walk stumbling after the light while others helped drag their injured comrades along. Ford ordered for extra hands to carry Robert while he gritted his teeth as he hoisted Klein onto his back, ignoring the burning protest in his muscles.

The moogle zipped ahead, its soft glow illuminating the cavern walls, leading them toward the exit Cloud had likely planned to take before their disastrous fight with the golem. The air felt thicker here, filled with the lingering tension of battle and the weight of something that shouldn’t exist —because Cloud Strife, a man Ford had mourned , was currently still out there , locked in a fight against a monster they had no chance of defeating.

Ford turned his head for a final glance back.

Cloud was still moving, still fighting like a force of nature , dodging the golem’s massive swings with inhuman precision. The battle was brutal—Cloud’s sword clashed against solid stone. Somewhere in the chaos, Ford caught a glimpse of the chocobo weaving through the debris , returning to its rider.

The moogle fluttered ahead, leading them deeper into the tunnels , the glow of its pink magic their only guide in the darkness.

The air outside the mines was heavy, thick with exhaustion and the stench of sweat, blood, and dust. The surviving troopers sat in various states of disrepair—some lying flat on their backs, others propped against rocks or one another. A few still clutched at their wounds, waiting for whatever half-assed medical aid Ford could provide with the limited supplies they had.

Ford was kneeling beside Robert, running a quick but practiced hand along his spine and legs, pressing lightly in places. Robert barely reacted.

“Anything?” Ford asked, his voice carefully measured.

Robert took a slow breath. “I can feel pressure, but… no pain. No tingling. That’s bad, right?”

Ford exhaled through his nose. Yeah, that’s bad. But he didn’t say it. “It could be swelling. You might get feeling back once we get you to proper medics.” If you’re lucky.

Robert let out an exhausted, humorless chuckle. “Right. If I’m lucky.”

A few feet away, Torres was breathing in shallow gasps, his armor dented in a way that made Ford suspect broken ribs—or worse, internal bleeding . Klein was still unconscious, though his breathing was steady.

Ford glanced around at what remained of their unit, taking silent stock. Too many missing. Too many unaccounted for. He knew, deep down, that most of them weren’t going to be found alive.

Before he could dwell on it, a familiar sound cut through the quiet.

Kweh.

Robert tilted his head slightly. “No way.”

From the direction of the mines, Zacke came trotting toward them, feathers dusty but otherwise completely unfazed by the nightmare they had just crawled out of. The chocobo carried himself with pride , as if the fight had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

And behind him—

Cloud.

The ex-trooper stepped out of the cavern’s shadows, his expression unreadable as his eyes flicked over the group. He looked untouched by the battle, save for a few scuffs on his pauldron and the lingering tension in his stance. If he was injured, he didn’t show it.

Robert let out an awkward breath of laughter and wheezed, “Your chocobo is a damn smart bird.”

Cloud blinked, his gaze shifting to Zacke, who had stopped next to Robert and nudged his head against his chest. There was a long pause before Cloud simply said, “Yeah.”

Robert snorted weakly. “Not much of a talker, huh?”

Cloud didn’t answer, but his eyes lingered on Robert for a beat longer before shifting to Ford. His gaze was sharp, assessing—not in recognition, but calculation .

Ford felt his throat tighten.

There was no doubt in his mind. This was Cloud.

And yet, the way he stood there, the way he looked at them like they were just strangers —

Ford didn’t know how to bridge the gap. He had mourned this man, buried him in his heart , and now here he was, very much alive, but… different. The Cloud he knew had been a shy, stubborn bastard who get ruffled as easily as the bird that resembled his hair.

This Cloud was quiet. Aloof.

Before Ford could even think of what to say, Cloud moved, stepping forward and pulling something from his belt. Without a word, he pressed a handful of potions and a few green orbs of Materia into Ford’s hands.

Ford stared. “…What?”

Cloud ignored the question, reaching into his pocket and producing a PHS device —one of the newer models Shinra issued. He tossed it to Ford, who caught it instinctively.

“Give me a ten-minute head start,” Cloud said, voice flat. “Then call Shinra for help.”

Ford’s jaw tightened. That was it? No explanation? No acknowledgment?

“Cloud—”

But Cloud was already turning away.

Cloud didn’t waste time. He reached into his pockets, pulling out whatever stolen supplies he had left—potions, ethers, a handful of curatives swiped from the Turks. He’d already given them Materia, but this would help tide them over until Shinra’s medics arrived. That was all he could do. That was all he would allow himself to do.

He handed the last of it to Ford, who accepted the items in stunned silence, his fingers tightening around the supplies like he couldn’t believe Cloud was just giving them away. Cloud didn’t explain, didn’t look at him too long. He didn’t have the luxury of lingering.

Some of these troopers wouldn’t walk away from this the same. Some wouldn’t walk at all. He didn’t let himself dwell on it. The way Robert struggled to move, the bruises mottling the unconscious Klein’s skin, the broken, uneven rise and fall of Torres’s breathing—it all burned at the edges of his mind, threatening to pull him into something he couldn’t afford to feel.

Instead, he focused on what he could control.

The stolen PHS.

The moment Shinra saw Tseng’s name lighting up on their call logs, they’d answer immediately. No hesitation, no bureaucratic delays. Not when their precious Turks were involved. The troopers would get their rescue, medical attention, a way out of this mess.

And as a bonus? Questions would be asked. How did a lowly grunt get their hands on the Turk leader’s personal line? What exactly happened down here? It would rattle Shinra, if only a little, and in Cloud’s book, that was another win.

Zacke gave a small grunt beside him, shifting impatiently, waiting for his rider to get moving. Cloud reached out, running a hand briefly through the chocobo’s feathers before stepping past him. His boots crunched against the dirt and stone as he moved away from the troopers, putting distance between them, between the weight of their injuries and what could have been his injuries if fate had played out differently.

Ford looked like he wanted to say something, wanted to call out, but Cloud didn’t give him the chance. He kept walking. Kept moving forward. He had what he needed. And he needed to be gone.

Chapter Text

The slum sewers of Midgar were as vile as ever—thick, damp air clung to their skin, the scent of rot and something disturbingly acidic wafting through the tunnels. Somewhere in the distance, the muffled splashes of boots and the occasional clang of metal against stone echoed off the grimy walls. Aerith, however, had long since learned how to tune out the unpleasantness of their surroundings in favor of the absurd scene playing out in front of her.

Kadaj and Zack were, for lack of a better term, being ridiculous.

They moved like overenthusiastic children, darting ahead of one another in an impromptu competition to see who could take down the most sewer fiends. A stray Garm lunged from the shadows—Zack leaped in front of Kadaj dramatically, pointing at the beast like he was calling dibs. Kadaj, not to be outdone, kicked him in the shin and took the kill himself. Zack yelped, swore revenge, and charged at the next group of fiends with exaggerated flair.

Up on a dry ledge, far from the chaos of sewer water and monster entrails, Aerith and Sephiroth stood in relative peace. Aerith leaned lightly against a rusted pipe, watching Zack and Kadaj’s ridiculous competition with an amused smile. She sighed fondly, rocking back on her heels as she turned toward Sephiroth, who stood rigidly beside her, arms crossed, the ever-present glower on his face only deepening.

“Didn’t we come down here to stop them?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

Sephiroth didn’t immediately answer, watching as Zack overdramatically declared his victory over a sludge-covered Creeper, only for Kadaj to shove him into a pile of discarded junk in retaliation.

“We did,” Sephiroth finally admitted. “But as foolish as this is, they need it.”

Aerith tilted her head, considering him.

“Kadaj has too much pent-up grief,” Sephiroth continued, voice quieter now. “Zack is under too much stress. We all are.”

Aerith hummed in agreement, turning her gaze back to the chaotic duo ahead. Watching Zack and Kadaj squabble like toddlers in their terrible twos, she couldn’t help but smile.

“They really are adorable, though,” she mused aloud.

Sephiroth scoffed. “That is not the word I would use.”

Aerith chuckled, but then, as if led by instinct, her gaze softened as she regarded Kadaj more carefully. Her fingers curled slightly, deep in thought. “Kadaj… he’s lost, isn’t he?” she murmured. “He doesn’t know where he belongs, just like before.”

Sephiroth said nothing at first, watching as Kadaj lunged at another fiend, his movements quick and aggressive—too aggressive. Fighting like someone with something to prove. Someone who doesn’t know where else to put his emotions.

“Yes,” he admitted after a moment. “That is his nature. He was created with a purpose, but without guidance, without someone to ground him, he latches onto whatever he can. Cloud was that. Now…” His silver brows furrowed. “I’m not sure.”

Aerith bit her lip. “Do you think I could help him?” she asked hesitantly. “Not like Cloud, but… in my own way?”

Sephiroth tilted his head slightly. “That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether he’s ready to accept help,” Sephiroth said simply. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of knowing in it.

Aerith exhaled slowly, nodding. “I guess that makes sense…” She didn’t sound discouraged, only thoughtful.

A flicker of movement caught Sephiroth’s eye— Zack, dodging past a leaping fiend, grinning as he clashed blades with Kadaj in the chaos.

“…It’s the same for Zack,” Sephiroth found himself saying.

Aerith blinked, turning toward him. “Zack?”

Sephiroth’s expression darkened slightly. “Kadaj is lost in his grief. But Zack… he takes on too much. Always has.”

Aerith followed his gaze, watching Zack move with his usual flair, laughing as he parried Kadaj’s attacks mid-fight. It looked playful on the surface, but Sephiroth could see it— the strain in his shoulders, the heaviness in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

Aerith frowned, realizing it too. “He’s always trying to be strong for everyone…”

Sephiroth nodded. “Even when it’s breaking him.”

The Midgar slums always stank, but the sewers were another level of foul. The air was thick with rot, stagnant water, and the unmistakable stench of blood—fresh and old.- Zack didn’t seem to care.

“C’mon, Kadaj! That the best you got?!” he called, vaulting off a crumbling ledge and bringing his sword down on a writhing mass of fiends. The blade sliced through flesh and bone, sending a spray of dark, putrid blood into the air.

Kadaj—drenched in filth, and grinning like a wild animal—laughed. “You talk too much, hedgehog.” With unnatural grace, he twisted through the air, twin blades flashing in the dim sewer light as he cut down two more creatures in one fluid motion.

Zack groaned. “Damn it, that’s two more for you!”

“They’re like children,” she mused.

Sephiroth crossed his arms. “Children don’t typically turn slaughter into a game.”

Aerith cast him a sidelong glance, the corners of her lips twitching. “No, but they do throw tantrums when they lose.”

As if to prove her point, Zack let out a loud, frustrated groan as Kadaj took down another fiend. “Oh, come on!”

Sephiroth sighed. “Your child is losing.”

Aerith giggled. “He’ll survive.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of battle echoing around them.

“You don’t like him,” Aerith said suddenly.

Sephiroth didn’t need to ask who she meant. He kept his gaze on Kadaj, watching the way the young man moved—too fluid, too precise. He wasn’t just fighting; he was enjoying it.

“He reminds me of something best left buried,” Sephiroth admitted, his voice unreadable.

Aerith hummed. “He’s not him, you know.”

Sephiroth said nothing.

Aerith turned fully toward him, studying his face. “You don’t trust him.”

“Its hard too, with how he’s been in the past few years.”

Aerith let out a soft breath, something between understanding and exasperation. “Sephiroth…”

Before she could say more, Zack’s voice rang out.

“Okay, I swear that one didn’t count! I was distracted!”

Kadaj smirked, twirling his blade. “Excuses, excuses.”

Aerith laughed, shaking her head. “Should we step in before they start swinging at each other?”

Sephiroth exhaled sharply. “Let them have their fun. But if he starts losing by too much, Zack may actually throw a tantrum.”

Aerith beamed at him. “ That’s an easy solve. Just slather him in kisses and he’ll melt like puddy .”

Aerith nudged Sephiroth’s shoulder, a gentle motion, but enough to pull him from his thoughts. He blinked, glancing down at her, silver hair shifting slightly as he turned.

“You’re being broody again,” she teased lightly.

Sephiroth exhaled sharply through his nose, something between acknowledgment and mild exasperation. “I wasn’t aware I had stopped.”

Aerith smiled at that, soft but knowing. “You try to act like all this doesn’t affect you, but I know better.”

His gaze flickered back to the battlefield below where Zack and Kadaj continued their chaotic dance of competition, flitting between playfulness and barely restrained aggression.

“You’re standing tall for them,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “Angeal , Gen…Yazoo, Loz, and Kadaj.”

His fingers twitched slightly, but he remained silent.

“You all lost him,” Aerith murmured. “Cloud was their brother, but he was your—”

Sephiroth’s jaw tightened.

Aerith softened her tone. “—one of the only people who truly understood you.”

Sephiroth looked away, unreadable, but she didn’t push.

“And Zack,” she continued, gaze shifting back to the scene below. “He lost his best friend, his soulmate.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You lost your soulmate, too.”

Sephiroth went still.

Aerith turned to him again, studying his face carefully. “Cloud was one of the only people who could stand beside you. Who saw more than just ‘Sephiroth, the general,’ or ‘Sephiroth, the legend.’”

He didn’t move, but his fingers clenched against his arm.

“You’re not just standing tall for your brothers,” she murmured. “You’re standing tall because you don’t know what else to do.”

A long silence stretched between them, heavy but not unbearable.

Finally, Sephiroth spoke. “What choice do I have?” His voice was low, quiet, but there was something raw beneath it. “I am their foundation. If I falter, they fall.”

Aerith hummed in understanding. “I know how that feels.”

Sephiroth tilted his head slightly, regarding her with narrowed eyes.

Aerith sighed, shifting her weight against the rusted pipe. “Tseng, Rufus… They’re the same.”

At that, Sephiroth raised a brow.

“They’re my soulmates,” she explained, glancing up at the damp ceiling. “And when we lost Tifa…”

Sephiroth watched as her hands tightened slightly.

“Rufus throws himself into his work,” she said softly. “He becomes sharper, colder—like if he just controls everything harder, he can fix it.” She shook her head. “But it’s just him trying to keep himself from feeling it.”

Sephiroth could see that. Rufus had always carried himself with an air of composure, of quiet calculation. The idea that he would try to control his grief made a disturbing amount of sense.

“And Tseng…” Aerith’s voice turned almost fond, but there was a deep sadness behind it. “He still carries on, as professional as ever, but he looks over his shoulder more now. Lingers too long at places that remind him of her.” She exhaled slowly. “He tries not to let it show, but I see it. Every time he looks at me, I see it.”

Her fingers curled slightly as she whispered, “I remind them of her.”

Sephiroth was quiet, watching her.

Aerith turned her head, meeting his gaze. “Just like you remind them of him. ”

The words settled between them, a quiet understanding forming in the dim sewer air.

Aerith let out a small, humorless chuckle. “We’re both playing the same role, aren’t we?” She gestured vaguely. “The bridge. The one who stays standing while everyone else is falling apart.”

Sephiroth didn’t answer immediately, but he knew she was right. He had spent years keeping Yazoo and Loz from spiraling, from losing themselves in their grief. He had been a pillar for Kadaj, whether the boy admitted it or not.

And Aerith…

She had been doing the same for Rufus and Tseng.

Sephiroth exhaled, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “It is an exhausting burden.”

Aerith huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah… it is.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Sephiroth frowned. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like the way her usual brightness dimmed, the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Aerith was one of his few friends. He didn’t want her sinking into grief—not because of him.

He struggled to think of how to fix it.

Sephiroth was not a comforting man. He had never been good at soft reassurances or gentle words.

His gaze flickered downward.

Zack.

The way Zack laughed as he fought, the way he lived despite everything—

He had seen it before.

Angeal, exhausted after another long day of mentoring, shoulders heavy with responsibility.

Genesis, brooding after a failure, lashing out with sharp words.

And Zack—

Zack always found a way to break through it.

Sephiroth recalled how Zack would whine and pester Angeal until he cracked a smile. How he would shove a book in Genesis’s hands and force him to read some ridiculous passage out loud until the redhead gave in with an exasperated sigh.

Zack didn’t fix their problems. He didn’t pretend to understand all of it.

But he made it lighter.

Sephiroth exhaled sharply. He could try.

He glanced down again, watching Zack narrowly dodge Kadaj’s blade with an exaggerated leap.

“…You know,” Sephiroth started, tone entirely too neutral.

Aerith blinked, looking at him. “Hm?”

“If you cheered Zack on, he might actually win.”

Aerith gave him a confused look, then glanced back at the battlefield—just in time to see Zack faceplant into the sewer water.

She snorted.

Sephiroth crossed his arms, gaze unreadable. “A strategic encouragement could tip the balance.”

Aerith bit her lip, barely holding back a giggle. “You want me to coach him?”

Sephiroth tilted his head slightly. “He responds well to praise.”

Aerith laughed, bright and full. “He’s living true to his Puppy name.”

Sephiroth shrugged. “The nickname is a title by this point.”

Aerith shook her head, still smiling. “Alright, alright.” She cupped her hands around her mouth.

“GO, ZACK! YOU CAN WIN IF YOU REALLY TRY!”

Zack, still soaked and scrambling to get up, perked up immediately. “You really think so, Aerith?!”

Kadaj groaned. “Oh, for Ifrit’s sake—”

And just like that, Zack launched himself back into battle with renewed vigor.

Aerith turned back to Sephiroth, amused. “That was your grand plan?”

Sephiroth, watching the scene with mild approval, simply nodded. “It was effective.”

Aerith giggled. “You are learning.”

Sephiroth sighed. “One must adapt.”

Aerith beamed at him. And in that moment, her light had returned, just a little.

Sephiroth let himself relax—just a fraction.

The sudden buzz from within Sephiroth’s jacket made him pause. He reached into his coat, fingers wrapping around the familiar device—a sleek, custom-made PHS . But it wasn’t his.

He flicked it open, recognizing the identifier. Rufus.

With practiced ease, he answered. “Sephiroth.”

A beat of silence. Then, cool and composed as ever, Rufus’s voice came through.

“…That isn’t Zack.”

Sephiroth cast an idle glance downward, watching as Zack clashed swords with Kadaj, their duel more akin to a wild playground fight than anything resembling proper combat.

“No,” Sephiroth replied smoothly. “Zack is… occupied.”

Another pause. Then, with the faintest trace of irritation, Rufus asked, “Occupied where ?”

Sephiroth’s lips twitched faintly. “The sewers.”

The silence this time was significantly longer.

“…You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke,” Sephiroth stated plainly.

Aerith, who had been listening in, pressed a hand to her mouth, barely stifling a giggle.

Rufus heard.

“…Was that Aerith?” His voice was sharp, laced with unmistakable disbelief.

Aerith’s giggles only increased.

Sephiroth exhaled through his nose, shifting the PHS slightly. “It was.”

A slow inhale on the other end.

“…Why,” Rufus said, voice tight with barely restrained exasperation, “is my dear soulmate in the slums’ sewers with you?”

Aerith grinned, leaning closer to Sephiroth and speaking loud enough for Rufus to hear. “Oh, you know~” she teased. “Bonding time. Getting closer with our dear friends. Enjoying the lovely ambiance~”

There was a sharp sigh on the other end.

Sephiroth found himself idly amused. “You disapprove.”

“I loathe the idea,” Rufus corrected flatly. “Aerith, why are you letting them drag you into such filth?”

Aerith gasped dramatically. “I chose to be here, thank you very much.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Sephiroth’s grip on the PHS was relaxed, a rare flicker of amusement in his expression. “You sound concerned, Rufus. ”

A sharp, unimpressed scoff. “I am concerned. Because you and Zack have a habit of turning casual outings into catastrophes. ”