Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge wasn’t much to look at. Its weathered wooden siding peeled in places, and the roof sagged under the weight of too many rainy seasons. But it stood firm, a stubborn relic of a world that refused to crumble entirely. Cloud Strife had chosen it not for its charm but for its isolation, a place where the hum of Edge’s rebuilding efforts was just a distant murmur. It was a place to breathe, to think, and, now, to house three unexpected charges.

Inside, the air smelled of dust and fresh paint, a strange mix of neglect and renewal. Cloud leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, watching the morning light spill through a cracked window. His sword rested in the corner, no longer a constant companion but a reminder of battles not yet forgotten. Upstairs, the floorboards creaked under restless steps Kadaj pacing again. Loz and Yazoo were quieter, their presence in the attic marked only by the occasional thud or low murmur. Cloud’s life had taken a sharp turn, and he was still figuring out how to navigate it.

It hadn’t been pity that drove him to take them in. Pity was too simple, too clean for the mess of emotions that had surged through him when Kadaj’s hand clung to his arm at the end of it all, in the ruins of that final battle. There was something raw in Kadaj’s eyes, something human, fragile, and desperate beneath the venom and rage. Loz and Yazoo had followed, their loyalty to Kadaj binding them to this new, uncertain arrangement. Cloud hadn’t planned on becoming a caretaker, but here they were, four broken pieces trying to fit into a house too small for their ghosts.

The kitchen was sparse, just a table, a few chairs, and a stove that worked half the time. Cloud had spent the morning unpacking supplies Tifa had sent from Seventh Heaven canned goods, bread, and a few vegetables that looked like they’d seen better days. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d learned enough to keep himself alive. Now, he had to figure out how to feed three more mouths, each with their own shadows to wrestle.

Kadaj descended the stairs first, his silver hair catching the light like a blade. He moved with a predator’s grace, but his eyes were guarded, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t look at Cloud, just slid into a chair at the table, his posture rigid. The silence between them was a wall, cold and unyielding. Cloud had seen that silence before in himself, after Aerith, after Sephiroth, after everything. Kadaj’s guilt was a mirror, and Cloud wasn’t sure he wanted to look too closely.

“Breakfast,” Cloud said, setting a plate of toast and scrambled eggs in front of Kadaj. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Kadaj stared at the plate like it was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, then picked up a piece of toast, turning it over in his hands.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kadaj said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Play house. Pretend we’re… normal.”

Cloud didn’t answer right away. He busied himself with pouring coffee, the dark liquid sloshing into a chipped mug. “Eat,” he said finally. “You’re too skinny.”

Kadaj’s eyes flicked up, sharp and searching, but he said nothing more. He tore a piece of toast and chewed slowly, like he was testing it for poison. Cloud watched him, noting the way Kadaj’s fingers trembled slightly, the way his shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow. This wasn’t the Kadaj who’d wielded a blade with reckless fury. This was someone else, someone who didn’t know how to exist without a fight.

Loz and Yazoo appeared moments later, their heavy steps announcing them long before they reached the kitchen. Loz, broad and solid, filled the doorway, his eyes darting between Cloud and Kadaj like a guard dog waiting for a threat. Yazoo was leaner, his movements fluid, but his expression was a mask of quiet resentment. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the scene with a detached air.

“Smells like food,” Loz said, his voice gruff but not unkind. He sat heavily at the table, grabbing a plate without hesitation. Yazoo didn’t move, his gaze fixed on Cloud, as if weighing every action for hidden motives.

“Eat or don’t,” Cloud said, pushing another plate toward the table. “I’m not your maid.”

Loz snorted, already shoveling eggs into his mouth. Yazoo’s lips twitched, but he stayed where he was, silent and unyielding. Cloud didn’t push. He’d learned early that forcing things with these three was a recipe for trouble. They were like stray cats—too wild to trust, too hungry to walk away.

The day passed in fits and starts. Cloud spent the morning fixing a leak in the roof, the rhythmic thud of his hammer a counterpoint to the brothers’ uneasy presence. Loz followed him outside, offering clumsy help that was more enthusiasm than skill. Yazoo stayed inside, reading one of the old books Cloud had scavenged from a ruined shop in Midgar. Kadaj drifted, never settling in one place for long, pacing the living room, staring out the window, or lingering near Cloud without speaking.

By evening, the house felt less like a battlefield and more like a fragile truce. Cloud cooked stew for dinner , simple but hearty, it's the kind of meal that fills the air with warmth. They ate together, though “together” was a generous term. Loz ate like a man starved, Yazoo picked at his bowl with deliberate slowness, and Kadaj barely touched his, his eyes fixed on some distant point.

Cloud didn’t know how to bridge the gap, but he tried in small ways. He refilled Kadaj’s water glass when it ran low. He didn’t flinch when Kadaj’s knee brushed his under the table. He let the silence stretch, knowing words could cut deeper than blades. Kadaj noticed—Cloud could tell by the way his gaze lingered, uncertain but curious, like a spark trying to catch.

That night, the house was quiet, save for the creak of the old pipes and the distant hum of Edge’s lights. Cloud sat on the edge of his bed, the small room lit only by a single lamp. Kadaj’s bedroll was spread out on the floor nearby Cloud had insisted Kadaj stay with him, not the attic, though he hadn’t explained why. Maybe it was the way Kadaj’s defiance seemed to hide something softer, something that needed protecting. Or it just because Cloud not fully believe in Kadaj yet.

Kadaj slipped into the room, his movements silent, almost ghostly. He sat on his bedroll, knees drawn up, staring at the floor. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken weight.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kadaj said again, his voice barely audible. “You don’t owe us anything.”

Cloud looked at him, really looked, and saw the cracks in Kadaj’s armor, the way his hands clenched, the way his eyes flickered with something like fear. “I’m not doing it because I owe you,” Cloud said. “I’m doing it because I want to.”

Kadaj’s head snapped up, his green eyes wide, searching Cloud’s face for a lie. He found none, and that seemed to unsettle him more. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his throat working as if the words were stuck.

Cloud stood, crossing the room to crouch in front of him. He didn’t touch Kadaj, didn’t push, just let the moment hang. “Get some sleep,” he said softly. “We’ve got tomorrow.”

Kadaj’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Cloud thought he might bolt. But then Kadaj whispered, so low Cloud almost missed it, “If you stop… if you stop caring, I won’t survive.”

The words hit like a blade, sharp and precise. Cloud didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if he could. So he did what he’d always done—he stayed. He sat back on his heels, giving Kadaj space but not leaving, not turning away. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The house on the edge of Edge was quiet that night, but it wasn’t empty. For the first time in a long time, it felt like a home.

Chapter Text

The days in the house on the edge of Edge settled into a rhythm, fragile but steady, like a heartbeat finding its pace. Mornings were quiet, filled with the clink of dishes and the soft hum of the kettle. Afternoons brought small tasks fixing a creaky step, sweeping the porch, or hauling supplies from Tifa’s deliveries. Evenings were for sitting, sometimes talking, sometimes not. Cloud Strife had never been one for routine, but he was learning, day by day, how to build one for four.

Kadaj moved through the house like a shadow, present but untethered, as if he might vanish if he stood still too long. He saw himself as a ghost, a remnant of something that shouldn’t exist, and Cloud could see it in the way Kadaj’s eyes darted away, in the way he flinched at kindness. But Cloud kept showing up. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, just stayed, steady, like the house itself.

That morning, Cloud found Kadaj in the backyard, staring at the patchy dirt where grass struggled to grow. “Thought we could try a garden,” Cloud said, dropping a sack of seeds and a shovel beside him. Kadaj glanced at the tools, his expression unreadable.

“Why?” Kadaj asked, his voice sharp but curious. “What’s the point?”

Cloud shrugged, picking up the shovel. “Gives us something to do. Something to keep.” He started digging, turning the earth without looking at Kadaj, giving him space to decide. After a long pause, Kadaj grabbed a trowel and knelt beside him, his movements hesitant but deliberate. They worked in silence, the only sounds the scrape of metal and the distant hum of Edge.

By noon, they’d carved out a small plot, planted tomato seeds, and set up a rickety trellis for beans. Kadaj’s hands were smudged with dirt, his silver hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Cloud handed him a water bottle, their fingers brushing briefly. Kadaj froze, then took it, drinking deeply without meeting Cloud’s eyes. It was small, but it was progress.

Loz and Yazoo were finding their own ways to fill the days. Loz had taken a shine to Marlene, who visited with Tifa now and then. The big man was awkward at first, his hands too large for the crayons Marlene thrust at him, but he’d warmed to her chatter. They sat on the porch that afternoon, Marlene teaching Loz how to draw chocobos, her laughter ringing out when Loz’s bird looked more like a blob. “It’s artistic,” Loz grumbled, but his grin betrayed him. Cloud watched from the kitchen window, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Loz was healing, slowly, through simple things like crayons and a child’s trust.

Yazoo, quieter and more guarded, had claimed a corner of the living room as his own. He’d found a stack of old books in a crate Cloud had scavenged novels, histories, even a tattered poetry collection. Yazoo read with a focus that bordered on obsession, his long fingers turning pages with care. Cloud caught him muttering lines under his breath once, something about stars and sorrow, and wondered what Yazoo saw in those words. He didn’t ask. Yazoo would share when he was ready or he wouldn’t. Either way, the books kept him grounded, a tether to a world he was still learning to trust.

Dinner was stew again, but Cloud had added fresh herbs from Tifa’s care package, giving it a warmth that filled the small kitchen. Kadaj sat across from Cloud, picking at his bowl, his knee brushing Cloud’s under the table. Cloud didn’t move away, and neither did Kadaj. Loz ate with his usual gusto, while Yazoo stirred his stew absently, a book propped open beside him. It was ordinary, almost painfully so, but Cloud felt the weight of it. These moments were theirs, built from nothing but time and choice.

As the days passed, Cloud’s care became a quiet constant. He left a spare jacket on Kadaj’s bedroll one chilly evening, noticing how Kadaj shivered in his thin shirt. Kadaj wore it the next day, the sleeves too long, but he didn’t comment. Cloud noticed, though, and the sight stirred something in his chest something he wasn’t ready to name. He kept showing up, eating beside Kadaj, working beside him, letting the silence speak when words failed.

But Kadaj’s ghosts lingered. Late one night, Cloud woke to the sound of the front door creaking. His senses snapped alert, honed by years of vigilance. He found Kadaj’s bedroll empty, the jacket gone. Heart pounding, Cloud pulled on his boots and stepped into the cool night air. The stars were sharp above Edge, and Kadaj’s silhouette was just visible, moving toward the sparse trees beyond the house.

Cloud followed, his steps quiet but steady. He found Kadaj at the edge of a small grove, his back to the house, the jacket draped over his shoulders. Kadaj’s hands were clenched, his head bowed, as if the weight of existing was too much.

“You don’t have to follow me,” Kadaj said, his voice brittle. “I’m not your problem.”

Cloud stopped a few paces away, his breath visible in the cold. “You’re not a problem,” he said. “You’re not a burden, either.”

Kadaj laughed, a sharp, hollow sound. “You don’t get it. I shouldn’t be here. I’m… nothing. A shadow. You’d be better off without me dragging you down.”

Cloud stepped closer, his boots crunching on the dry grass. Kadaj flinched but didn’t turn. “You’re wrong,” Cloud said, his voice low but firm. “You’re here. You’re real. And I want you to stay.”

Kadaj spun, his green eyes blazing with something between anger and desperation. “Why? What do you see in me that’s worth keeping?”

Cloud didn’t answer with words. He closed the distance, his hands finding Kadaj’s shoulders, gentle but unyielding. Kadaj tried to pull away, but Cloud held firm, guiding him back until Kadaj’s back met the rough bark of a tree. Kadaj’s breath hitched, his eyes wide, searching Cloud’s face for a lie, for a reason to run.

“You belong here,” Cloud said, his voice steady, each word deliberate. “With me.”

Kadaj stared, his walls crumbling under the weight of Cloud’s gaze. His lips trembled, and then, for the first time, he broke. Tears spilled down his cheeks, silent at first, then accompanied by a choked sob. He tried to turn away, but Cloud didn’t let go, his hands sliding to cup Kadaj’s face, thumbs brushing away the tears.

“I’m scared,” Kadaj whispered, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to be… this. To be wanted.”

Cloud leaned closer, his forehead resting against Kadaj’s, their breaths mingling in the cold night air. “You don’t have to know,” he murmured. “Just stay. We’ll figure it out.”

Kadaj’s hands clutched at Cloud’s shirt, trembling but holding on. Cloud tilted his head, his lips brushing Kadaj’s forehead then move to the eyes want to eraser all the tear off, slowly Cloud press a kiss on Kadaj cheek a kiss so soft it felt like a promise. Kadaj froze, then melted into it, his fear giving way to something fragile and new. Kadaj welcomed that gentleness and kindness, tentative but real, letting himself be held, be seen, for the first time without running.

They stood there, wrapped in the quiet of the night, until Kadaj’s sobs faded. Cloud pulled back just enough to look at him, his hands still framing Kadaj’s face. Kadaj’s eyes were red, his cheeks streaked with tears, but he didn’t look away. For the first time, he looked like he might stay.

“Come home,” Cloud said, his voice soft but sure.

Kadaj nodded, a small, shaky movement, and let Cloud lead him back to the house. The stars watched, silent witnesses to a beginning.

Chapter Text

The rain fell in sheets, cold and unrelenting, soaking through Cloud Strife’s jacket as he trudged through the ruins of the Forgotten Capital. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone and moss, and the wind carried whispers of memories he’d rather not face. Aerith’s presence lingered here, in the crumbling pillars and the faint glow of the crystal pools, but Cloud wasn’t sure why he’d come. Restlessness had driven him from Edge, from the familiar hum of Seventh Heaven and Tifa’s quiet concern. He needed… something. Answers, maybe or just silence.

His boots sank into the muddy earth, each step echoing in the vast, empty city. The rain plastered his blond hair to his forehead, dripping into his eyes, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. He moved forward, drawn by an instinct he couldn’t name, past shattered arches and overgrown paths. The Forgotten Capital was a graveyard of memories, and Cloud was no stranger to ghosts.

Then he saw them.

Loz lay sprawled against a broken stone slab, his massive frame half-sunk in the mud. Blood streaked his face, mingling with the rain, but his chest rose and fell shallow, uneven, but alive. Beside him, Yazoo was crumpled on his side, his silver hair matted with dirt, his breath so faint Cloud almost missed it. Their weapons were gone, their menace stripped away. They were remnants, shadows of Sephiroth’s will, but now they were just… broken.

Cloud’s gaze shifted, drawn to a moss-covered pillar a few paces away. Kadaj was there, curled into himself, his knees drawn up, his head resting against the stone. The rain had soaked his clothes, and he shivered, his body trembling with each ragged breath. His eyes were half-open, no longer glowing with that eerie, otherworldly light. They were green, dulled by pain and exhaustion, but human. Just a boy, not a monster.

Cloud’s sword was heavy at his side, its weight a reminder of what he could do, what he should do. He knelt beside Kadaj, the mud soaking through his pants, and stared at the boy who had once burned with rage and purpose. “Why? You should’ve faded” Cloud whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. “All of you.”

Kadaj’s eyes flickered, focusing on Cloud with effort. There was no defiance, no venom. Just a faint, broken breath, and a look that held something Cloud hadn’t expected fear, maybe, or resignation. Kadaj didn’t speak, didn’t move. He just watched, as if waiting for Cloud to decide his fate.

Cloud’s hand twitched toward his sword, but he stopped. He remembered Kadaj’s desperation in their final fight, the way his voice had cracked, the way his hand had clung to Cloud’s arm, seeking something beyond destruction. He remembered Aerith’s voice, soft and forgiving, in the back of his mind. Not all battles end with a blade, Cloud.

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was guilt, or hope, or some stubborn refusal to let the cycle of pain continue. But instead of drawing his sword, Cloud reached out, his gloved hand brushing Kadaj’s shoulder. The boy flinched, a small, instinctive movement, but didn’t pull away. Cloud slid his arms under Kadaj’s slight frame, lifting him carefully. He was light, too light, his body trembling against Cloud’s chest.

“Loz, Yazoo,” Cloud said, his voice rough but steady. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

Loz stirred first, his head lifting, eyes bleary but alert. He pushed himself up, staggering, and moved to Yazoo’s side, hauling his brother to his feet. Yazoo swayed, his face pale, but he leaned on Loz, his gaze fixed on Cloud with a mix of suspicion and exhaustion. They didn’t ask questions. Maybe they didn’t have the strength. Maybe, like Kadaj, they were just waiting for whatever came next.

The journey back to Edge was long, the rain unrelenting. Cloud carried Kadaj, his steps steady despite the weight of the boy in his arms and the two remnants stumbling behind him. Fenrir’s engine roared through the storm, the bike’s headlight cutting through the dark. Loz and Yazoo clung to the cargo rack, their silence heavier than the rain. Kadaj’s head rested against Cloud’s shoulder, his breaths shallow but steady, and Cloud felt the warmth of him through the soaked fabric of his jacket. It was strange, this closeness, but it anchored him.

By the time they reached the house on the outskirts of Edge, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The house was dark, its windows like empty eyes, but it was shelter. Cloud kicked the door open, carrying Kadaj inside and laying him on the couch. Loz and Yazoo followed, collapsing onto the floor, too tired to care about the mud they tracked in. Cloud lit a lamp, its warm glow pushing back the shadows.

He worked in silence, methodical. He found blankets in a closet, draping one over Kadaj and tossing others to Loz and Yazoo. He boiled water, scrounging up towels to dry them off. Kadaj’s eyes followed him, half-lidded but aware, as Cloud knelt beside him, wiping the mud from his face with a damp cloth.

“Why?” Kadaj’s voice was a rasp, barely audible. “Why… save us?”

Cloud paused, the cloth still in his hand. He didn’t have an answer, not really. “Because you’re still here,” he said finally. “That’s enough for now.”

Kadaj’s lips parted, but no words came. He closed his eyes, his breathing evening out, and Cloud wondered if he’d heard him at all. Loz was already snoring, sprawled across the floor, while Yazoo sat against the wall, watching Cloud with a guarded expression. The house creaked around them, settling into its new role as refuge.

Cloud didn’t sleep that night. He sat in a chair by the window, his sword within reach, watching the rain taper off outside. The remnants were alive, broken but breathing, and he’d brought them here. To his home. To a life he hadn’t planned for. He glanced at Kadaj, curled under the blanket, his silver hair spilling over the couch. There was something fragile in his stillness, something that stirred an ache in Cloud’s chest. Not pity, not exactly. Something deeper, something he couldn’t name yet.

The dawn broke, gray and quiet, and Cloud stood to make coffee or maybe something strong enough to help him clear his mind. The house was no longer empty, and neither was he. It was a start or maybe a messy, uncertain one, but a start.

Chapter Text

The next day, Cloud decided to bring the three of them to Tifa's place. Hiding them was not a good idea, but bringing back the three threats they had worked so hard to eliminate was another problem. Cloud knew what he should do, and he knew how he should deal with them. But his heart was still filled with confusion. Did he hate them? He didn't know. Did he resent them? He couldn't answer that either. But feeling the unconsciousness and emptiness in Kadaj's gaze yesterday made Cloud unable to help but reach out and hug that body tightly.

The road back to Edge was a blur of rain-slicked asphalt and the low growl of Fenrir’s engine. Cloud Strife’s hands gripped the handlebars tightly, his knuckles white beneath his gloves. Kadaj was slumped against his back, too weak to hold on properly, his arms loosely wrapped around Cloud’s waist. Loz and Yazoo clung to the cargo rack, their silence heavier than the storm that had followed them from the Forgotten Capital. The weight of his decision pressed on Cloud’s chest, but he didn’t look back. There was no going back now.

Seventh Heaven’s neon sign flickered in the distance as they reached Edge, a beacon in the gray dawn. Cloud pulled up outside, the engine’s rumble fading into the quiet of the sleeping city. He dismounted, steadying Kadaj as the boy slid off the bike, his legs unsteady. Loz helped Yazoo, his massive arm supporting his brother’s slighter frame. They were a ragged group, soaked and bloodied, and Cloud felt the eyes of early risers peering from nearby windows.

Inside, the bar was warm, the air thick with the scent of coffee and polished wood. Tifa was behind the counter, wiping glasses, her movements pausing as Cloud pushed open the door. Her eyes widened, taking in the remnants trailing behind him. Kadaj’s head was bowed, his silver hair hiding his face. Loz stood protectively close, while Yazoo’s gaze was cold, distant, fixed on some point beyond the room.

“Cloud, what—” Tifa’s voice caught, her hands stilling. “Are you serious?”

Barret’s voice boomed from the back, where he’d been fixing a chair. “The hell is this?!” He stormed forward, his gun arm twitching, his glare fixed on the remnants. “You brought them here? After everything?”

Cloud didn’t flinch, though his jaw tightened. “They’re not a threat anymore,” he said, his voice low but firm. “They’re staying with me.”

“Staying?!” Barret’s fist slammed the counter, making the glasses rattle. “You out of your damn mind, Strife? These are Sephiroth’s leftovers! You think they’re just gonna play nice?”

Vincent’s voice cut through the tension, calm but edged with warning. He’d appeared silently, as he always did, leaning against the wall, his red cloak stark against the bar’s warm tones. “You’re risking everything,” he said, his eyes locked on Cloud. “They’re tied to him. You know that.”

Cloud met Vincent’s gaze, unflinching. “I know. But they’re not him. Not anymore.”

The argument hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, until a small voice broke the silence. Marlene stood in the doorway to the back room, clutching a stuffed moogle, her wide eyes fixed on Kadaj. She tilted her head, studying him, unafraid despite the tension. “He looks lonely,” she said softly, her words cutting through the room like a blade.

Cloud glanced at Kadaj, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. The boy’s shoulders were hunched, his hands clenched at his sides, as if bracing for rejection. Marlene’s words echoed in Cloud’s mind, stirring something he couldn’t quite name. Lonely. Broken. Human. That was enough.

“They get a second chance,” Cloud said, his voice steady, final. Tifa’s expression softened, though worry lingered in her eyes. Barret muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue further. Vincent only watched, his silence a warning and a concession.

Cloud led the remnants back to his house on the outskirts of Edge, a weathered structure he’d claimed but never fully settled into. It was sparse, with creaky floors and peeling paint, but it was his. He spent the day fixing it up, hammering loose boards, sweeping dust, and dragging in crates of supplies from Seventh Heaven. The remnants watched, silent and uncertain, their presence like ghosts in a place not yet ready to be a home.

Kadaj stayed in Cloud’s room, though Cloud couldn’t say why he’d made that choice. Maybe it was mistrust, a need to keep the most volatile close, where he could watch him. Maybe it was something else, something in the way Kadaj’s eyes had flickered in the Forgotten Capital, vulnerable and lost. Cloud didn’t dwell on it. He set up a bedroll on the floor beside his bed, tossing a blanket over it without a word.

Loz and Yazoo took the attic, a cramped space with slanted ceilings and a single window. Loz hauled their meager belongings up the narrow stairs, his movements protective, maybe almost possessive, as he glanced back at Kadaj. Yazoo followed, his steps silent, his expression unreadable. They didn’t complain, didn’t question. They just were existing in a space that felt too small for their pasts.

The first few days were a study in tension. The house was too quiet, the air thick with unspoken words. Loz hovered near Kadaj, his broad frame filling doorways, his eyes darting to Cloud whenever he moved too close. Yazoo kept his distance, claiming a corner of the attic where he sat with one of Cloud’s scavenged books, flipping pages without comment. Kadaj barely spoke, his silence a wall Cloud couldn’t breach. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at his untouched meals, or stood by the window, watching Edge’s skyline like it might swallow him whole.

Cloud didn’t push. He cooked simple meals, stew, bread, whatever Tifa sent over. He fixed leaks, patched walls, and left clean clothes for the remnants when their own were too tattered. Cloud didn’t know how to reach Kadaj, how to prove they deserved this chance. So he stayed close, watching, waiting, offering small gestures of care, a cup of coffee set beside Kadaj’s plate, a spare jacket left on his bedroll. Kadaj noticed his green eyes flickering with something unreadable, but he didn’t speak. 

At night, the house settled into an uneasy quiet. Cloud lay on his bed, listening to the creak of the floorboards as Kadaj shifted on his bedroll. The boy’s breathing was soft, uneven, as if sleep was a battle he wasn’t sure he wanted to win. Cloud stared at the ceiling, his mind turning over Marlene’s words. He looks lonely. Maybe that was why he’d brought them here, not just to watch them, but to give them something he’d once needed: a place to belong.

The house was silent, but it wasn’t empty. It was a start.

Chapter Text

The house on the edge of Edge was starting to feel less like a shelter and more like a home, though the change was slow, almost imperceptible. The creaky floors still groaned underfoot, and the windows rattled in the wind, but the air inside was warmer now, tinged with the scent of cooking and the faint earthiness of herbs drying by the kitchen window. Cloud Strife woke each morning to the same quiet tension, but it was softening, like a blade dulled by time. Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo they were still shadows in his life, but they were finding their place, one small step at a time.

Cloud had started giving them tasks, not out of necessity but because he knew idleness bred unrest. He’d learned that lesson himself, in the days when guilt and grief had kept him adrift. Structure, however small, gave purpose, and purpose kept the ghosts at bay. So he watched them, gauging their strengths, their hesitations, and handed out jobs like lifelines.

Loz was the easiest to direct. His strength was undeniable, and he seemed eager for something to do with his hands. Cloud sent him to help Wedge, who ran deliveries for Seventh Heaven, hauling crates of supplies through Edge’s bustling streets. The first day, Loz returned with dust on his jacket and a rare grin, recounting how Wedge had called him a “one-man chocobo.” Cloud nodded, hiding a faint smile, and noted the way Loz stood a little taller. The big man was finding his footing, one crate at a time.

Yazoo was trickier. He kept to himself, his silver hair a curtain between him and the world, his eyes sharp but distant. Cloud caught him lingering near the backyard one morning, staring at the patchy dirt where weeds fought for space. “Herb garden,” Cloud said, tossing him a pair of gloves and a sack of seeds Tifa had sent over. Yazoo caught them, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t argue. By afternoon, he was kneeling in the dirt, his movements precise as he planted rosemary and thyme. He worked in silence, but Cloud noticed the care in his hands, the way he pressed the soil gently, like it was something worth protecting. Yazoo was healing, in his own quiet way.

Kadaj, though, was a puzzle Cloud couldn’t solve. The boy stayed close, always within sight, but he seemed to exist on the edges of everything, watching, waiting, never quite settling. Cloud didn’t push him, not yet. He gave Kadaj the simplest task: sit on the porch, watch the rain, keep an eye on the stray cat that had started lurking near the house. Kadaj obeyed, his green eyes fixed on the gray sky, his silver hair damp from the drizzle. He didn’t complain, didn’t question. He just sat, still and silent, like a statue carved from sorrow.

The days passed in a rhythm of small tasks and quiet moments. Cloud cooked breakfast eggs, toast, sometimes bacon if Tifa sent some over. Loz ate with gusto, Yazoo picked at his plate, and Kadaj stared at his food like it was a foreign object. Cloud didn’t comment, just set a cup of coffee beside Kadaj’s plate and moved on. He fixed the house in the afternoons, hammering nails, patching leaks, while Loz hauled wood and Yazoo tended the garden. Kadaj watched from the porch, the cat curling up beside him, its purring a soft counterpoint to the rain.

Then, something shifted. Cloud didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the routine he was building. But Kadaj started doing things without being asked. One morning, Cloud found the blankets in the living room neatly folded, stacked on the couch where Loz had left them in a heap. Another day, the kitchen table was wiped clean, its surface free of crumbs and smudges. The stray cat, now a regular visitor, had a saucer of milk by the back door, and Cloud caught Kadaj scratching its ears, his touch tentative but gentle.

Cloud started noticing. He noticed the way Kadaj’s hands moved, quick and precise, as he folded clothes or swept the floor. He noticed the way Kadaj lingered near the kitchen when Cloud cooked, his eyes tracking the knife as it chopped vegetables, as if memorizing the motions. He noticed the way Kadaj’s shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, when the cat rubbed against his leg. And he noticed the ache in his own chest, a quiet pull toward the boy who was starting to fill the spaces of the house with small, unspoken acts.

One evening, Cloud came in from fixing a fence to find Kadaj at the stove, stirring a pot of stew. The smell was rich, herbs mingling with the warmth of simmering broth. Kadaj didn’t look up, his focus on the spoon, but his posture was tense, as if expecting rebuke.

“Smells good,” Cloud said, leaning against the counter. Kadaj’s hand stilled, his eyes flicking to Cloud, searching for a lie. Finding none, he nodded, a small, jerky movement, and returned to stirring.

Cloud watched him, noting the way Kadaj’s silver hair fell into his eyes, the way his sleeves were rolled up, revealing slender wrists. He didn’t know why he’d put Kadaj in his room, why he kept him so close. Mistrust, maybe, in those early days. Or maybe it was something else, something in the way Kadaj’s vulnerability called to him, a mirror of his own past. Whatever it was, Cloud felt it now, a quiet awareness that grew with each small act Kadaj offered.

Loz and Yazoo joined them for dinner, the table crowded but warm. Loz talked about Wedge’s latest delivery run, his voice loud but cheerful. Yazoo mentioned the herbs, saying the rosemary was thriving, his tone soft but not unkind. Kadaj ate slowly, his spoon pausing now and then, but he ate more than he had before. Cloud sat across from him, their knees brushing under the table, and neither pulled away.

That night, Cloud lay in his bed, listening to Kadaj’s soft breathing from the bedroll on the floor. The house was quiet, save for the distant patter of rain and the creak of the attic where Loz and Yazoo slept. Cloud’s mind turned over the day the folded blankets, the clean table, the cat’s saucer, the stew. Kadaj was trying, in his own way, to belong. And Cloud was noticing more than he’d expected to.

He glanced at the dark shape of Kadaj’s bedroll, the faint outline of silver hair catching the moonlight through the window. The ache in his chest stirred again, not painful but persistent, like a seed taking root. He didn’t name it or couldn't name it. But he felt it, and it was enough.

The house was settling, and so were they. One task, one moment, one breath at a time.

Chapter Text

The house on the edge of Edge hummed with the quiet rhythm of routine, a fragile harmony carved from small tasks and shared silences. The days had begun to blur together, mornings of coffee and toast, afternoons of repairs and gardening, evenings of stew and soft conversation. Cloud Strife moved through it all with a steady presence, anchoring the remnants Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo as they learned to exist in a world that no longer demanded their destruction. The tension of those first days had eased, not gone but softened, like a storm fading into a drizzle.

That evening, the air was cool, carrying the scent of rain through the open windows. Cloud returned from a delivery run for Tifa, his boots leaving faint mud prints on the porch. The house was quiet, save for the soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen where Loz was washing up, his low humming a rare sound of contentment. Yazoo was in the attic, no doubt lost in another book, the creak of the floorboards marking his presence. Kadaj, as always, was harder to pin down, a shadow slipping through the house’s corners.

Cloud climbed the stairs to his room, intending to grab a clean shirt before dinner. The door was ajar, a sliver of lamplight spilling into the hallway. He pushed it open and stopped, his breath catching at the sight before him.

Kadaj stood by the window, drying his silver hair with one of Cloud’s towels. The fabric was worn, a faded blue, and it looked out of place in Kadaj’s hands, too ordinary for someone who had once burned with otherworldly fire. His hair was damp from a recent wash, clinging to his neck in soft strands, and the lamplight caught the droplets, making them shimmer. He wore one of Cloud’s old shirts, too big for his slight frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight should have irritated Cloud that Kadaj was using his things without asking, taking up space in his room, but it didn’t. Instead, it stirred something warm in his chest, something he couldn’t quite name.

Kadaj noticed him, his hands pausing mid-motion. His green eyes met Cloud’s, unreadable, a mix of defiance and uncertainty. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching like a thread pulled taut. Then Kadaj lowered the towel, his lips parting as if to explain, but he said instead, “You didn’t ask why we’re still alive.”

Cloud leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossing, more to steady himself than to challenge. “You didn’t try to kill me,” he said, his voice low, steady. “That’s enough.”

Kadaj’s gaze flickered, searching Cloud’s face for a lie, a hidden motive. Finding none, he looked away, his fingers tightening around the towel. “It shouldn’t be,” he muttered, almost to himself. “We’re… remnants. Shadows. We shouldn’t be here.”

Cloud stepped closer, his boots soft on the worn floorboards. “But you are,” he said. “And I’m not sending you away.”

Kadaj’s head snapped up, his eyes sharp but vulnerable, like a blade dulled by doubt. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, just stood there, clutching the towel as if it were an anchor. The silence was awkward, heavy with unspoken questions, but it wasn’t cold. There was a warmth to it, a quiet understanding that neither could articulate yet.

Cloud broke the moment first, turning to grab the shirt he’d come for. “Dinner’s soon,” he said, his voice softer than he’d intended. “Don’t take too long.”

Kadaj nodded, a small, jerky motion, and resumed drying his hair. Cloud left the room, his heart beating a little faster than it should, the image of Kadaj in his shirt lingering like a photograph.

Dinner was simple stew again, with herbs from Yazoo’s garden, the table crowded with mismatched plates. Loz recounted his day with Wedge, his voice loud with pride over moving a stack of crates single-handedly. Yazoo ate quietly, a book propped beside him, but he nodded when Loz mentioned the garden, a rare acknowledgment. Kadaj sat across from Cloud, his knee brushing Cloud’s under the table, a fleeting contact neither addressed. He ate more than usual, his spoon moving steadily, and Cloud noticed, filing it away with the other small changes: folded blankets, wiped tables, the stray cat’s saucer.

After dinner, Loz and Yazoo retreated to the attic, their footsteps fading overhead. Kadaj lingered, helping Cloud clear the table without being asked. Their movements were a quiet dance, plates stacked, water poured, hands brushing once, briefly, as they reached for the same dish. Kadaj pulled back, his cheeks faintly flushed, and Cloud pretended not to notice, though the warmth in his chest grew.

That night, Cloud lay awake in his bed, the room dark save for the sliver of moonlight through the window. Kadaj’s bedroll was a shadow on the floor, his breathing soft and even, a rhythm Cloud had grown accustomed to. He stared at the ceiling, his mind turning over the evening, the towel, Kadaj’s words, the way his shirt hung loose on Kadaj’s frame. It wasn’t just guilt that had driven him to bring them here, to carry Kadaj from the Forgotten Capital, to give them a home. It wasn’t just duty or pity or some noble need to redeem them.

He wanted them to stay. He wanted Kadaj to stay.

The realization settled over him like the moonlight, quiet but undeniable. He thought of Kadaj’s unreadable eyes, his small acts of care, the way he seemed to hover on the edge of belonging, afraid to step fully into it. Cloud knew that fear, had lived it himself after Aerith, after Sephiroth, after everything. He’d been a ghost too, once, drifting through a world that felt too heavy to hold him. But he’d found his way back, piece by piece, and now he wanted to offer that to Kadaj. Not just a place to live, but a reason to.

He turned his head, his eyes tracing the outline of Kadaj’s form in the dark. He was curled on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, his silver hair spilling over the pillow. He looked small, vulnerable, not the remnant who’d once wielded a blade with reckless fury. Cloud’s chest ached, a pull he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t just want to save Kadaj. He wanted to know him, to see what lay beneath the shadows, to hold the fragile spark he’d glimpsed tonight.

The house was quiet, the rain a soft patter outside. Cloud closed his eyes, the realization settling deeper. It was awkward, uncertain, but warm. And it was enough.

Chapter Text

The house on the edge of Edge had settled into a rhythm, not perfect but steady, like a song played on a slightly out-of-tune piano. The mornings were filled with the clink of coffee mugs, the afternoons with the hum of small tasks, and the evenings with the quiet warmth of shared meals. Cloud had grown accustomed to the presence of Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo, their once-sharp edges softening into the fabric of the house. It wasn’t easy, but it was theirs, a life built from broken pieces, held together by time and choice.

That afternoon, Cloud stood in the kitchen, a worn apron tied around his waist, chopping carrots with a steady hand. Kadaj leaned against the counter nearby, his silver hair catching the sunlight filtering through the window. Cloud had decided to teach him how to cook, not because they needed more food, Tifa’s care packages kept them well-fed, but because Kadaj needed something to do, something to claim as his own. The boy had been restless lately, his green eyes flickering with a frustration Cloud recognized too well.

“Rice first,” Cloud said, sliding a pot and a bag of grains toward Kadaj. “One cup rice, two cups water. Easy.”

Kadaj eyed the pot like it was a challenge, his lips pressed into a thin line. He measured the rice carefully, his movements precise but tense, as if expecting the grains to betray him. Cloud watched, saying nothing, letting Kadaj find his way. The water went in, the pot went on the stove, and Kadaj turned the heat up, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Stir it a bit,” Cloud said, tossing carrots into a pan. “Keeps it from sticking.”

Kadaj nodded, grabbing a spoon and stirring with more force than necessary. The kitchen filled with the soft hiss of boiling water and the sizzle of vegetables, a domestic symphony that felt almost normal. But then the smell changed, sharp, burnt, and Kadaj froze, staring at the pot as if it had personally insulted him.

“It’s burning,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. He yanked the pot off the stove, the rice a blackened mess at the bottom. “I did exactly what you said!”

Cloud glanced over, unfazed. “You turned the heat too high. It’s fine. Try again.”

Kadaj’s eyes flashed, his hands clenching around the spoon. “What’s the point? It’s just rice. It’s stupid.”

Cloud set his knife down, wiping his hands on the apron. “It’s not about the rice,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “It’s about showing up. You’ll get it next time.”

Kadaj glared, his frustration a live wire, but he didn’t argue. He dumped the burnt rice into the trash, his movements sharp, and started over. Cloud watched, noting the way Kadaj’s shoulders tensed, the way his fingers trembled slightly as he measured the water again. He was trying, even through the anger, and that was enough.

Meanwhile, the house was alive with its own small dramas. Loz, ever eager to help, had been tasked with moving furniture to make room for a new table Tifa had sent over. He’d been enthusiastic, too enthusiastic, and a chair had paid the price. Cloud heard the crack from the living room, followed by Loz’s sheepish, “Uh, Cloud? We got a problem.”

Cloud found him standing over a broken chair, its leg snapped clean off. Loz held the pieces like a guilty child, his broad face flushed. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I can fix it.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Go for it. There’s glue and nails in the shed.”

Loz set to work, his big hands clumsy but determined, muttering to himself as he tried to piece the chair back together. Cloud didn’t hover he knew Loz needed to figure it out, to feel useful in his own way. By evening, the chair was lopsided but functional, and Loz’s grin was brighter than the lamplight.

Yazoo, on the other hand, had claimed the herb garden as his domain. He was out there now, tending to the rosemary and thyme with a focus that bordered on obsession. When Cloud had reached for a sprig earlier, Yazoo’s glare had been sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t,” he’d said, his voice low but firm. Cloud had backed off, hands raised, and Yazoo had returned to his plants, his expression softening as he brushed dirt from a leaf. The garden was his sanctuary, and no one, not even Cloud, was allowed to disrupt it.

Kadaj, though, was different. He’d started waiting up late, lingering in the living room long after Loz and Yazoo retreated to the attic. Cloud would find him there, curled on the couch, his knees tucked in like a child, his green eyes catching the flicker of the lamp. They’d talk about nothing, really. The weather, the cat, the way Edge’s skyline glowed at night. Kadaj’s voice was soft, hesitant, but he spoke, and Cloud listened, his own words sparse but steady.

Cloud started noticing things. The way Kadaj laughed when he thought no one was watching—a rare, quiet sound that slipped out when the stray cat pounced on a leaf or when Loz tripped over his own feet. The way Kadaj curled up on the couch, his body small and guarded, but his eyes bright with curiosity. The way he’d linger near Cloud, not too close but close enough, as if testing the distance between them.

That night, after another failed attempt at rice, better, but still mushy. Cloud and Kadaj sat in the living room, the house quiet around them. Loz was upstairs, his snores drifting through the ceiling, and Yazoo was lost in his books. Kadaj was on the couch, his knees drawn up, the cat sprawled beside him. Cloud sat in the armchair, cleaning his sword, the familiar task grounding him.

“You’re not bad at this,” Kadaj said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. He gestured vaguely at the room, the house, the life they were building. “This… normal stuff.”

Cloud’s hands paused on the blade. “Neither are you,” he said, his tone soft but sincere.

Kadaj’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but his eyes were guarded, searching. He shifted, his hair falling into his face, and Cloud acted before he could think. He reached out, his fingers brushing Kadaj’s silver hair behind his ear, the motion absentminded but gentle. Kadaj froze, his breath catching, his green eyes wide with surprise. Cloud froze too, his hand hovering, the warmth of Kadaj’s skin lingering on his fingertips.

Neither pulled away. The moment stretched, heavy with possibility, the air thick with the unspoken. Kadaj’s cheeks flushed, just slightly, and Cloud felt his own heart stutter. He lowered his hand, slow and deliberate, but his eyes stayed on Kadaj’s, holding the connection.

“Goodnight,” Cloud said, his voice rougher than he meant. He stood, setting his sword, and headed for the stairs, his steps steady but his mind racing.

Kadaj didn’t move, but his voice followed, soft and tentative. “Goodnight, Cloud.”

The house was quiet as Cloud climbed the stairs, the warmth of that moment settling in his chest. They were learning each other, step by step, and it was enough.

Chapter Text

The house on the edge of Edge had become a haven, its creaky floors and patched walls holding a warmth that hadn’t been there months ago. The days were filled with small routines, cooking, gardening, fixing what was broken, and the nights with quiet moments of coexistence. Cloud Strife had grown used to the presence of Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo, their lives weaving together like threads in a worn but sturdy tapestry. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and that was enough.

That evening, the air was heavy with the promise of a storm. The sky over Edge was bruised with dark clouds, and the wind rattled the windows, carrying the sharp scent of rain. Cloud stood on the porch, watching the horizon, his blond hair stirring in the gusts. Inside, Loz was sprawled on the couch, whittling a piece of wood into something that might, with optimism, be called a chocobo. Yazoo was in the attic, his lamp casting a soft glow as he turned the pages of a book. Kadaj was in the kitchen, wiping down the table, his movements slower than usual, his green eyes darting to the windows as thunder rumbled in the distance.

Cloud noticed the tension in Kadaj’s shoulders, the way his hands paused mid-motion, but he didn’t comment. Kadaj had been quieter today, his usual small acts, folding blankets, feeding the stray cat, tinged with an edge of restlessness. Cloud had learned to read him, to see the cracks in his guarded exterior, but he didn’t push. Not yet.

Dinner was quiet, the storm’s approach muffling the usual chatter. Loz ate with his usual enthusiasm, oblivious to the growing tension, while Yazoo picked at his food, his eyes flicking to Kadaj now and then. Kadaj barely touched his plate, his knee brushing Cloud’s under the table, a fleeting contact that lingered longer than it should. Cloud didn’t move away, and neither did Kadaj, but the boy’s gaze stayed fixed on the window, where lightning flashed, sharp and sudden.

The storm broke as they cleared the table, rain hammering the roof like a thousand tiny fists. The lights flickered, and a crack of thunder shook the house, making the stray cat dart under the couch. Loz laughed, a low, rumbling sound, but Kadaj froze, his hands gripping the edge of the sink. His breathing hitched, too fast, too shallow, and Cloud saw it. The panic creeping into his eyes, the way his body tensed as if bracing for a blow.

“Kadaj,” Cloud said, his voice soft but firm, stepping closer. Kadaj didn’t respond, his gaze locked on the window, where rain streaked the glass like tears. Another flash of lightning lit the room, and Kadaj flinched, a small, broken sound escaping his throat. Cloud recognized that look those flashbacks, memories of battles and blood, of a past that refused to stay buried.

Without thinking, Cloud crossed the room, his hand finding Kadaj’s arm. “Come on,” he said, his tone gentle but unyielding. He guided Kadaj away from the sink, through the living room, and up the stairs to their room. Loz watched, his whittling paused, but he didn’t follow. Yazoo’s eyes lingered from the attic doorway, sharp but silent, before he retreated to his books.

In their room, the storm was louder, the rain a relentless drum against the roof. Kadaj stood by the window, his arms wrapped around himself, shivering despite the warmth of Cloud’s oversized shirt. The bedroll on the floor, where Kadaj had slept since the beginning, looked small and cold and uncomfortable to erase the panic growing inside Kadaj right now. Cloud didn’t hesitate. He pulled back the covers on his bed, his movements steady, and said, “Get in.”

Kadaj turned, his eyes wide, uncertain. “What?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor tonight,” Cloud said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Get in.”

Kadaj hesitated, his hands clenching, but another crack of thunder made him flinch, and he obeyed. He climbed into the bed, curling onto his side, facing away from Cloud. Cloud kicked off his boots and slid in beside him, keeping his distance, their backs to each other. The bed was narrow, the space between them small but deliberate, a boundary of trust not yet fully crossed.

The storm raged outside, wind howling, rain pounding, but the room was warm, the lamp casting a soft glow. Cloud listened to Kadaj’s breathing, uneven and quick, a mirror of the panic he’d seen in the kitchen. He wanted to reach out, to pull Kadaj close, but he waited, giving him space to find his own way back.

Halfway through the night, Kadaj’s voice broke the silence, a whisper barely audible over the storm. “I don’t know how to feel safe.”

Cloud’s heart clenched, the words raw and unguarded, slicing through the quiet. He turned, slow and careful, until he faced Kadaj’s back. The boy was still curled away, his silver hair spilling over the pillow, his shoulders trembling. Cloud didn’t think, didn’t second-guess. He slid closer, his arm wrapping around Kadaj’s waist, pulling him gently against his chest. Kadaj stiffened, his breath catching, but he didn’t pull away.

“Then I’ll stay right here until you do,” Cloud murmured, his voice steady, a promise carved into the dark.

Kadaj’s body was tense, a coiled spring, but slowly, so slowly, he relaxed. His hand found Cloud’s, fingers brushing tentatively before gripping tightly, as if anchoring himself. Cloud held him, his chin resting against Kadaj’s hair, the scent of rain and soap filling his senses. The storm outside seemed to fade, its fury no match for the quiet warmth of the moment.

Kadaj’s breathing slowed, growing even, and Cloud felt the shift, the absence of tension, the weight of trust settling between them. Kadaj curled closer, his body fitting against Cloud’s, his head tucked under Cloud’s chin. For the first time, Cloud realized Kadaj was asleep without nightmares, his face soft, unguarded, in the dim light.

From that night on, Kadaj slept in Cloud’s bed, the space between them shrinking with each passing storm. The bedroll forgotten in the corner, a relic of a time before trust or love or whatever it is between them. The house creaked around them, a witness to their quiet transformation, and Cloud held him, steady as always, until the dawn.

Chapter Text

Winter crept into Edge like a whisper, soft and unassuming, blanketing the city in a quiet chill. The house on the outskirts stood resilient against the cold, its windows frosted at the edges, the air inside warmed by a small fire Cloud kept burning in the living room. The days had grown shorter, the light softer, and the rhythm of life in the house Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had settled into something steady, a fragile balance of trust and care.

The first snow fell that morning, delicate flakes drifting past the windows, piling gently on the porch. Cloud stood by the door, his breath visible in the crisp air, watching the world turn white. Inside, the remnants, no, the three brothers, Cloud new family members were adjusting to their first real winter, each in their own way. Loz was the first to venture out, his boots crunching in the snow as he marveled at it like a child. “It’s cold!” he called, scooping a handful and packing it into a lumpy snowball. He lobbed it at the fence, laughing when it exploded in a puff of white. His enthusiasm was infectious, a rare burst of joy that echoed through the yard.

Yazoo, less impressed, lingered just inside the doorway, his arms crossed, a scowl tugging at his lips. “It’s wet and inconvenient,” he muttered, brushing a stray flake from his silver hair. “Why does it have to stick to everything?” But he stayed there, watching Loz’s antics, his expression softening when Loz managed to hit a tree with surprising accuracy. Cloud caught the hint of a smile, fleeting but real, and turned back to the house, leaving Yazoo to his quiet complaints.

Kadaj was in the kitchen, staring out the window, his green eyes tracking the snowflakes with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He’d been quieter lately, not withdrawn but thoughtful, as if the changing season had stirred something in him. Cloud noticed the way Kadaj shivered, his thin jacket no match for the winter’s bite, and acted before he could overthink it. He pulled a scarf from a box that he had brough from yesterday when he made a quick trip to the city, a soft, gray knit, nothing fancy, but warm and draped it over Kadaj’s shoulders.

“For you,” Cloud said, his voice low, almost gruff. “It’s cold out there.”

Kadaj’s fingers brushed the scarf, his eyes flicking to Cloud, searching for a catch. Finding none, he wrapped it tighter, tucking his chin into the fabric. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost lost in the kitchen’s warmth. Cloud nodded, turning to the stove to hide the faint warmth in his chest. Kadaj wore the scarf for three days straight, even indoors, the gray knit a constant around his neck, a quiet claim on something given freely.

That afternoon, they made soup together, a simple recipe Cloud had picked up from Tifa potatoes, carrots, a handful of herbs from the garden Yazoo had tended before the frost. Cloud chopped vegetables, his knife steady, while Kadaj stirred the pot, his movements careful but less tense than when he’d burned the rice months ago. The kitchen filled with the rich, earthy scent of simmering broth, steam curling in the air. Kadaj leaned over the pot, inhaling deeply, and Cloud caught the way his lips curved, a small, unguarded smile.

“Smells better than last time,” Kadaj said, glancing at Cloud, his tone teasing but soft.

Cloud’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You’re learning,” he said, nudging Kadaj’s shoulder lightly. Kadaj didn’t pull away, his gaze lingering on Cloud for a moment before returning to the pot. The moment was small, but it settled in Cloud’s chest like the snow outside, quiet, persistent, softening the edges.

Dinner was a warm affair, the four of them crowded around the small table, bowls steaming in the lamplight. Loz recounted his snowball fight with himself, his hands animated as he described a particularly good throw. Yazoo rolled his eyes but ate steadily, the cold outside making the soup more appealing than his usual pickiness allowed. Kadaj sat close to Cloud, their knees brushing under the table, the scarf still around his neck. He ate slowly, savoring each spoonful, and Cloud noticed, filing it away with the other small moments Kadaj’s laugh, his tucked-in knees, the way he’d started to belong.

After dinner, the house grew quiet, the fire crackling in the living room as the snow fell heavier outside. Loz had retreated to the attic, claiming he wanted to carve a snowball out of wood, while Yazoo sat by the window, a book in his lap, his complaints about the cold forgotten. Cloud spread a blanket over the couch, the fire’s glow casting shadows on the walls. Kadaj hesitated, then joined him, curling up at one end, his knees tucked in, the scarf a soft frame around his face.

Cloud added a log to the fire, the warmth spreading through the room. He sat beside Kadaj, closer than he’d meant to, their shoulders brushing. Kadaj didn’t move away, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression soft but distant. They sat in silence, the kind that didn’t need filling, the fire’s crackle and the snow’s hush enough to hold them.

Kadaj’s head dipped down on Cloud's lap, his eyelids heavy, his body relaxing into sleep. His silver hair spilled over Cloud’s lap, the scarf slipping slightly to reveal the curve of his neck. Cloud froze, his breath catching, then slowly, carefully, he reached out, his fingers stroking Kadaj’s hair. The strands were soft, warmed by the fire, and Cloud’s touch was gentle, almost reverent.

“I think I love you,” Cloud whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, so quiet they were barely audible over the fire. Kadaj didn’t stir, his breathing steady, lost in sleep. Cloud’s hand paused, his heart pounding, but he didn’t pull away. He’d said it, even if only to the flames, and it felt true, raw, unpolished, but true.

Kadaj shifted, mumbling in his sleep, his voice a soft murmur. “Don’t leave.”

Cloud’s chest tightened, the words a mirror to his own unspoken fears. He leaned down, his lips brushing Kadaj’s forehead, a promise he didn’t need to speak. “I won’t,” he murmured, his hand resuming its gentle stroke through Kadaj’s hair. “I’m right here.”

Kadaj curled closer, his body small and warm in Cloud’s lap, the scarf a soft weight against his chest. The fire burned low, the snow piling outside, and for the first time, Kadaj slept deeply, his face relaxed, free of the shadows that had haunted him. Cloud stayed awake, watching the flames, holding Kadaj through the quiet winter night.

The house was still, wrapped in the softness of the season, and they were together, safe in the glow of something new.

Chapter Text

Spring tiptoed into Edge, softening the harsh lines of winter with tentative green shoots and warmer breezes. The house on the outskirts stood steady, its weathered walls catching the morning light, the air inside alive with the scent of fresh earth and blooming possibilities. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had woven their lives into a delicate balance, each day a small step toward peace. The mornings were for coffee and quiet, the afternoons for tasks that grounded them, and the evenings for moments that felt like home.

That morning, the backyard was bathed in sunlight, the last traces of snow melted into the earth. Yazoo knelt in the garden, his silver hair tied back, his hands buried in the soil as he coaxed new life from the dirt. The herb garden he’d tended through the fall had survived the winter, and now he was expanding it, planting basil and lavender with a care that bordered on reverence. Cloud watched from the porch, leaning against the railing, a mug of coffee warming his hands. Yazoo’s focus was a quiet thing, a contrast to his usual distance, and Cloud respected it, keeping his distance.

Kadaj appeared beside Yazoo, his scarf Cloud’s gift still loosely draped around his neck, despite the warming weather. He hesitated, his green eyes flicking between Yazoo and the garden, as if unsure of his place. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice soft but curious, lacking the sharp edge it once held.

Yazoo glanced up, his expression neutral but not unkind. “Planting,” he said, gesturing to the soil. “It’s… calming. Want to try?”

Kadaj blinked, surprised, but nodded, kneeling beside his brother. Yazoo handed him a small trowel, his movements deliberate, and pointed to a patch of earth. “Dig there. Not too deep. The roots need space to breathe.”

Cloud watched, his coffee forgotten, as Yazoo guided Kadaj with a patience he rarely showed. It was a rare moment of bonding, the two remnants working side by side, their silver hair catching the light like twin reflections. Yazoo explained how to press the soil, how to water without drowning the roots, his voice low and steady. Kadaj listened, his hands clumsy at first but growing surer, mimicking Yazoo’s careful motions. There was no rush, no tension, just the quiet rhythm of earth and hands, a shared stillness that felt like a gift.

Loz wandered out, his boots heavy on the grass, a half-carved wooden figure in his hand. “You two playing in the dirt?” he teased, grinning, but he didn’t interrupt, settling on the porch steps to watch. Cloud caught the warmth in Loz’s eyes, a pride in seeing his brothers find something gentle, something theirs.

Kadaj paused, his trowel hovering over a small white flower, a fragile thing, its petals delicate against the dark soil. He planted it carefully, his fingers trembling slightly, as if afraid to break it. “I want something here to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “even if I don’t.”

The words hung in the air, soft but heavy, and Cloud’s heart clenched. He’d overheard from the porch, his grip tightening on his mug, but he didn’t speak, didn’t move. Kadaj’s vulnerability was a quiet wound, a fear of impermanence that Cloud understood too well. Yazoo glanced at Kadaj, his expression unreadable, but he nodded, pressing the soil around the flower with care. “It’ll stay,” he said simply, and Kadaj’s shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.

Cloud slipped away, unnoticed, his mind turning over Kadaj’s words. He spent the afternoon in the shed, working with tools and scraps of wood, his hands steady but his thoughts on Kadaj, the way his voice had softened, the way he’d planted that flower like it was a promise. By evening, he’d finished, carving a small wooden sign with careful, deliberate strokes: Kadaj’s Hope – Do Not Step On.

Dinner was a lively affair, the kitchen filled with the scent of roasted vegetables and bread. Loz recounted a story about a delivery run with Wedge, his laughter booming, while Yazoo ate quietly, his eyes flicking to the window where the garden lay. Kadaj sat beside Cloud, their knees brushing under the table, a now-familiar warmth. He still wore the scarf, a gray loop around his neck, and Cloud noticed the way it framed his face, softening his sharp edges.

After dinner, Cloud led Kadaj to the garden, the evening air cool and tinged with the scent of lavender. The others followed, curious, Loz’s heavy steps contrasting Yazoo’s silent tread. Cloud knelt by the white flower, setting the wooden sign into the soil, its carved letters catching the fading light. Kadaj froze, his eyes wide, reading the words: Kadaj’s Hope.

“You heard me,” Kadaj said, his voice a mix of surprise and something softer, almost shy.

Cloud stood, brushing dirt from his hands. “I did,” he said, his tone steady but warm. “It’s yours. It’ll stay.”

Kadaj’s gaze flicked from the sign to Cloud, his green eyes shimmering with something unspoken. Then, without warning, he stepped forward, rising on his toes to press a quick, soft kiss to Cloud’s cheek. The gesture was natural, uncalculated, and it caught Cloud off guard, his breath hitching. His hand touched his cheek, warmth spreading under his skin, and he looked at Kadaj, whose face was flushed but steady, no trace of regret.

Loz let out a loud sound of suprise, breaking the moment, his face from curious turn to suprise and then is the face of a big brother when he sees a hateful guy stealing his precious little brother . “What the...” he called, cracking him hand, try to reach the two and teach Cloud a lesson becasue of what he still have no idea. Yazoo stop Loz, he made a small noise of protest, his arms crossing, but Cloud caught the faint curve of a smile on his lips, quickly hidden as he turned away.

Kadaj ducked his head, his flush deepening, but he didn’t pull back, his hand brushing Cloud’s briefly, a quiet claim. Cloud’s heart raced, but he didn’t shy away, his own lips curving into a rare, soft smile. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice low, meant only for Kadaj.

They stood there, the garden around them a testament to their shared stillness, the white flower a small beacon of hope. Loz’s grumbled faded into the background, Yazoo’s smile lingered in the shadows, and Kadaj’s kiss was a spark, bright and warm, in the quiet of the evening.

The house waited, its windows glowing, ready to hold them through another season.

Chapter Text

The house on the edge of Edge had become a sanctuary, its walls holding the quiet warmth of shared meals, small tasks, and late-night talks. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had carved out a life together, fragile but real, each day a step toward something none of them had dared to name. The mornings were soft with routine, the evenings heavy with trust, and the nights filled with the comfort of Kadaj sleeping close, curled against Cloud’s chest in their shared bed. But even sanctuaries could crack under the weight of the world outside.

That afternoon, Cloud had taken them to Seventh Heaven, a rare outing to help Tifa with a delivery backlog. The bar was bustling, filled with the clatter of glasses and the hum of voices merchants, drifters, and locals swapping stories over cheap ale. Loz was in his element, hauling crates from the back with the help of Marlene and Denzel, their laughter booming as they stacked supplies. Yazoo lingered near the door, just look, he not in mood of help and beside Loz had done everything, his silver hair a quiet contrast to the chaos. Kadaj stayed close to Cloud, his green eyes scanning the room, his posture tense but guarded, like a cat ready to bolt.

Cloud was behind the counter, helping Tifa sort inventory, when he noticed Kadaj’s gaze fix on a group of men at a corner table. They were rough types, scarred and loud, their voices carrying over the din. One leaned forward, his words slurring but sharp. “Strife’s a fool,” he muttered, just loud enough to cut through the noise. “Keeping monsters in his home like they’re pets. Those remnants’ll turn on him, mark my words.”

Kadaj froze, his hands clenching at his sides. Cloud saw it, the way his eyes darkened, the way his breath hitched, a storm brewing beneath his calm. Before Cloud could move, Kadaj lashed out, his foot catching a nearby chair and sending it crashing to the floor. The bar went quiet, heads turning, and Kadaj’s voice was a low, venomous hiss. “Say that again.”

The man smirked, undaunted. “You heard me, fucker. You’re trouble, monster, puppet. Always will be. And why you don't die, you deserved that”

Kadaj’s hands trembled, his body coiled like a spring, but he didn’t strike. Instead, he turned, his silver hair whipping behind him, and stormed out, the door slamming in his wake. Cloud was already moving, ignoring Tifa’s worried glance and Loz’s confused, “What happened?” He pushed through the crowd, his heart pounding, and stepped into the cool evening air.

Kadaj was halfway down the street, his steps fast and uneven, his shoulders hunched against the weight of the words he’d heard. Cloud followed, his boots steady on the pavement, calling out, “Kadaj, stop.”

Kadaj didn’t slow, his voice cutting through the dusk. “Leave me alone, Cloud.”

Cloud caught up, his hand finding Kadaj’s arm, gentle but firm. “Not happening. Talk to me.”

Kadaj spun, yanking his arm free, his green eyes blazing with a mix of anger and pain. “Why? So you can tell me I’m not what they say? You think I’m better...but I’m not!” His voice cracked, raw and desperate, and he took a step back, his hands clenching into fists. “I’m a remnant, Cloud. A monster, puppet. You heard them. They’re right.”

Cloud’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed steady, low. “They don’t know you. They don’t see what I see.”

Kadaj laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed in the empty street. “And what do you see? Some broken puppet that you think you can fix? I’m not your project, Cloud. I’m not...” He stopped, his breath hitching, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not worth this.”

Cloud stepped closer, undeterred by Kadaj’s anger, his own frustration rising but tempered by something deeper. “I never said you had to be better,” he said, each word deliberate, cutting through the storm between them. “I never asked you to be anything but you. That’s enough, Kadaj. You’re enough.”

Kadaj stared, his defenses crumbling, his lips trembling as the fight drained out of him. “You don’t get it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you. I’m scared I’ll ruin everything.”

The words hit Cloud like a blade, sharp and precise, and he didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, pulling Kadaj into his arms, his hold firm but gentle, grounding. Kadaj stiffened, his hands hovering as if unsure where to land, but then he broke, a sob tearing from his throat. He clutched at Cloud’s jacket, his face buried in Cloud’s chest, tears soaking through the fabric. Cloud held him tighter, one hand resting on Kadaj’s silver hair, the other steady on his back, shielding him from the world.

“Then I’ll hold you until the fear is gone,” Cloud murmured, his voice soft but unyielding, a promise carved into the quiet. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Kadaj’s sobs were raw, unguarded, each one a release of the weight he’d carried fear, guilt, the shadow of his past. Cloud stood steady, his arms a fortress, the street around them fading into insignificance. The voices from the bar, the whispers of “monsters,” were nothing compared to this, the truth of Kadaj’s tears, the warmth of his body against Cloud’s, the trust that held them together.

They stayed like that, wrapped in the dusk, until Kadaj’s sobs faded to soft hiccups, his grip on Cloud loosening but not letting go. He pulled back just enough to look up, his green eyes red-rimmed but clear, vulnerable in a way Cloud had rarely seen. “I don’t want to lose you,” Kadaj whispered, his voice barely audible.

Cloud’s hand moved to Kadaj’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You won’t,” he said, his gaze steady, holding Kadaj’s like an anchor. “We’re in this together.”

Kadaj nodded, a small, shaky movement, and leaned into Cloud’s touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Cloud guided him back toward the house, their steps slow, their hands brushing as they walked. The night was cool, the stars peeking through the clouds, and Edge’s lights glowed in the distance, a reminder of the world they were building within.

Loz and Yazoo were waiting, their concern unspoken but evident. They return to their home, their sanctuary, the place with full of care and peace that they build together for months. The place where the broken chair had been fixed by Loz, its lopsided frame a testament to his effort, and Yazoo’s herb garden was untouched, a silent boundary respected. Where the little flower "Kadaj Hope" still stand strong and grow. They didn’t ask about the bar, didn’t press for details, but Loz’s hand rested briefly on Kadaj’s shoulder, and Yazoo’s gaze softened, just for a moment.

Kadaj didn’t speak as they climbed the stairs to their room with Cloud, but he stayed close, his presence a quiet plea. Cloud’s bed welcomed them, the bedroll long forgotten in the corner. Kadaj curled against Cloud’s chest, his breathing steady, and Cloud held him, his arm a shield against the fears that lingered.

The house was quiet, its walls holding their story fights, fears, and the promise of tomorrow. They were learning, step by step, and it was enough.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge settled into the gentle rhythm of late autumn, its windows catching the golden light of shorter days, the air crisp with the scent of fallen leaves. Inside, Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo moved through their shared life with a quiet ease, each day a small stitch in the fabric of their healing. The brothers’ bond, forged in fire and reaffirmed in the Forgotten City, was a steady hum beneath the routine. But something new was stirring in Cloud, a change he couldn’t explain, a pull toward Kadaj that grew with every glance, every moment.

Cloud had always been aware of Kadaj, from the moment he’d carried him from the ruins, his silver hair damp with rain, his body fragile but alive. But lately, he noticed small things, details that slipped past his guard and lodged in his chest. In the mornings, Kadaj hummed softly while cleaning, a tuneless melody that filled the kitchen as he swept the floor, his movements fluid, almost graceful. Cloud would pause, coffee mug in hand, his blue eyes lingering on the way Kadaj’s scarf, still worn despite the season, swayed with each step, the gray knit a soft frame around his neck.

In the evenings, Kadaj read by the fire, a book from Yazoo's collection propped on his knees, his silver hair falling across his eyes. He’d brush it back absently, his fingers delicate but sure, and Cloud would catch himself staring, the glow of the flames catching Kadaj’s green eyes, making them shimmer like the lake in the Forgotten City. He’d look away, his jaw tightening, but the image stayed, a quiet ache he didn’t understand.

That afternoon, Cloud returned from a delivery run, Fenrir’s engine still warm as he stepped into the house. The kitchen was quiet, Loz was out, Yazoo was in the backyard whittling something under the oak tree. Kadaj was at the counter, pouring hot water into a cup, the steam curling in the air. Cloud set his pack down, expecting to make his usual coffee, but Kadaj turned, sliding a cup toward him without a word. It was tea, warm, sweet, just right, the way Cloud liked it, though he’d never said so.

Cloud froze, his hand hovering over the cup, his eyes meeting Kadaj’s. “You made this for me?” he asked, his voice low, almost cautious.

Kadaj shrugged, his lips curving into a small, shy smile. “You always drink coffee,” he said, his tone light but warm. “Thought you’d like something different.” He turned back to the counter, wiping it down, but Cloud saw the faint flush on his cheeks, the way his fingers lingered on the cloth.

Cloud took the cup, the warmth seeping into his hands, and sipped. It was perfect, the sweetness balanced, the heat soothing. He watched Kadaj move, humming that soft tune again, and felt something shift, a warmth in his chest, not just from the tea, but from the care behind it. Kadaj hadn’t been asked, hadn’t been prompted. He’d noticed Cloud, too, in his own quiet way.

Dinner that night was simple, stew again and bread, the table crowded with their usual chatter. Loz recounted his day, his voice booming as he described a crate that nearly toppled him, earning a rare laugh from Yazoo. Kadaj sat beside Cloud, their knees brushing under the table, a now-familiar contact that sent a quiet spark through Cloud’s skin. He tried to focus on his food, but his eyes kept drifting to Kadaj, the way he tore his bread into small pieces, the way his smile flickered when Loz teased him.

Yazoo noticed. He was at the sink after dinner, washing dishes with his usual precision, when he spoke, his voice low enough that only Cloud could hear. “You watch him too much,” he said, his green eyes flicking to Cloud, sharp but not unkind. “Be careful.”

Cloud stiffened, his hands pausing on the plate he was drying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his tone gruff, but his heart raced, Yazoo’s words cutting too close to the truth.

Yazoo’s lips twitched, a faint smirk. “Sure you don’t,” he said, turning back to the dishes, but his glance lingered, a silent warning and acknowledgment. Cloud didn’t respond, finishing the task in silence, but Yazoo’s words followed him, a mirror to the change he couldn’t ignore.

That night, Cloud lay awake in their shared room, the house quiet save for the soft creak of the walls and Kadaj’s steady breathing beside him. The bed was warm, Kadaj curled close, his silver hair spilling over the pillow, his face soft in sleep. Cloud stared at the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head, his thoughts a tangle of memories and feelings he wasn’t ready to name. He thought of Kadaj’s humming, his hair falling across his eyes, the tea waiting for him, small acts that felt bigger, heavier, than they should.

He thought of the ruins, of carrying Kadaj’s broken body, of the promise he’d made to give him a chance at life. He thought of their nights together, Kadaj’s nightmares fading, his trust growing, the way his smile lit the room. Cloud’s chest ached, a pull he couldn’t deny, and he whispered into the dark, his voice barely audible. “I’m in trouble.”

Kadaj stirred, mumbling something in his sleep, his hand brushing Cloud’s arm, a fleeting touch that sent warmth through Cloud’s skin. He didn’t wake, and Cloud didn’t move, his eyes still on the ceiling, the weight of his words settling over him. He was noticing Kadaj, more than he should, more than he knew how to handle, and it scared him, not because it was wrong, but because it was real.

The house was still, the autumn air cool through the open window, and Cloud felt the change, a shift he couldn’t explain but couldn’t ignore. Kadaj’s presence was a light in his world, a quiet healing for wounds he’d carried too long, and he wondered, in the dark, if he was the same for Kadaj.

Outside, Loz’s snores drifted from the attic, and the stars watched, silent witnesses to the slow burn of something new. Cloud closed his eyes, Kadaj’s warmth beside him, and let himself feel it, just for a moment, before sleep claimed him.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge was wrapped in the quiet of a late autumn evening, the air cool and sharp with the promise of winter. Inside, the living room glowed with the soft light of a fire, its crackle a steady heartbeat beneath the calm. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had settled into a life that felt like a fragile gift, each day a step toward healing old wounds. Cloud’s awareness of Kadaj had grown, a quiet pull that stirred his heart, and Kadaj, in his own way, seemed to feel it too, their connection deepening through glances and silences that held more than words.

That evening, Cloud sat on the couch, a worn blanket draped over his knees, his hands resting idly as he stared into the fire. Loz was in the kitchen, clattering dishes as he tried to master a recipe Tifa had sent, his low grumbling mingling with the occasional laugh. Yazoo was upstairs, his soft footsteps pacing the attic, likely lost in a book or whittling by the window. Kadaj appeared quietly, a cup of tea in his hands, the gray scarf still looped around his neck, a constant reminder of Cloud’s gift. He hesitated, then sat beside Cloud, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

Neither moved. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a spark through Cloud’s skin, his breath catching in his throat. He kept his eyes on the fire, afraid to look at Kadaj, afraid of what he’d see or what Kadaj would see in him. Kadaj stayed still, his own breathing steady but shallow, as if he felt the weight of that small contact too. The space between them was charged, a tension in the smallest thing, a moment that felt bigger than the room could hold.

They sat like that, shoulders touching, the fire’s warmth wrapping around them. Kadaj sipped his tea, the cup’s faint clink a soft counterpoint to the crackle of the flames. Cloud’s hands tightened on the blanket, his heart racing, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t dare break the fragile connection. Kadaj’s scarf brushed his arm, the knit soft against his sleeve, and Cloud felt it, the quiet care in Kadaj’s presence, the way he chose to sit close, to stay.

The moment stretched, unbroken until Loz called from the kitchen, “Cloud, you want to try or not?” His voice was loud, jarring, and Cloud exhaled, the tension easing but not fading. Kadaj set his cup down, his shoulder shifting slightly, but he didn’t move away, his eyes flicking to Cloud’s for a brief, unreadable moment.

“I’m coming,” Cloud said, his voice rougher than he meant, and stood, the blanket slipping to the couch. Kadaj stayed where he was, his silver hair catching the firelight, his expression soft but guarded, as if waiting for something Cloud couldn’t name.

Dinner was a lively affair, Loz’s stew surprisingly edible, though heavy on salt. Yazoo joined them, his sharp gaze noting the way Kadaj sat closer to Cloud, their elbows brushing as they passed the bread. Loz teased Kadaj about his scarf, earning a playful swat, and the table filled with their easy banter, a warmth that grounded them all. But Cloud felt the echo of that shoulder touch, a quiet hum beneath the noise, and he caught Kadaj’s glance once, brief but warm, a spark that lingered.

Later, they returned to the living room, the fire still burning low. Loz had retreated to the attic, claiming he needed to “fix” a carving that looked more like a lump than a chocobo, and Yazoo was back at his book, leaving Cloud and Kadaj alone. They settled on the couch again, the blanket shared between them, their positions mirroring the earlier moment. Cloud reached for a glass of water on the table, his hand brushing Kadaj’s by accident, a fleeting touch of fingers against knuckles.

Kadaj flinched, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. His hand stayed where it was, trembling slightly, his green eyes wide as they met Cloud’s. The contact was brief, gone in a heartbeat, but it left a warmth in Cloud’s chest, a tension that was both thrilling and terrifying. He muttered, “Sorry,” his voice low, and grabbed the glass, his fingers tight around it.

Kadaj didn’t respond, but he shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Cloud’s again, deliberate this time. “It’s fine,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost shy, his eyes on the fire. Cloud’s heart stuttered, the weight of that small gesture settling over him, a quiet step toward something neither of them was ready to name.

They stayed there, the silence comfortable but charged, the fire’s glow softening the room’s edges. Kadaj’s humming started, a faint melody that Cloud had come to recognize, and it lulled them both, the tension easing into a quiet warmth. Cloud’s eyes grew heavy, the day’s weight catching up, but he didn’t move, Kadaj’s presence a steady anchor.

That night, Cloud dreamed. He was in the house, but it was different, brighter, warmer, the air filled with Kadaj’s humming. Kadaj was there, close, his silver hair falling across his eyes, his smile soft and unguarded. Cloud reached out, his hand cupping Kadaj’s cheek, and leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was gentle, warm, real. It felt like healing, like coming home, and Cloud’s heart soared, a lightness he hadn’t known in years.

He woke with a start, his breath uneven, the dream’s warmth lingering in his chest. The fire had died to embers, the room dark save for the faint moonlight through the window. Kadaj was asleep beside him on the couch, curled into Cloud’s side, his head resting against Cloud’s shoulder, his mouth slightly parted. His silver hair spilled over the blanket, his scarf loose around his neck, and his body was warm, relaxed, trusting in a way that made Cloud’s heart ache.

Cloud didn’t move. He sat still, his arm pinned beneath Kadaj, his eyes tracing the soft lines of Kadaj’s face, the curve of his lips, the faint flush on his cheeks, the peace in his sleep. The dream lingered, its kiss a ghost on his lips, and Cloud felt the truth of it, the pull toward Kadaj, the way he was healing him, piece by piece, with every touch, every glance. Kadaj’s presence was a balm for Cloud’s scars, and he wondered, in the quiet, if he was the same for Kadaj.

The house was still, Loz’s snores faint from upstairs, Yazoo’s book closed on the table. The moonlight watched, a silent witness to their slow burn, and Cloud stayed, Kadaj’s warmth against him, letting the moment hold them both.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge stood quiet under a late autumn sky, the air sharp with the chill of approaching winter, the leaves a mosaic of gold and crimson on the ground. Inside, Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo moved through their shared life with a delicate balance, their days filled with small routines that stitched together their healing. But beneath the calm, a tension was growing, a slow burn between Cloud and Kadaj that neither could ignore, their hearts caught in an internal conflict, fear of love, fear of ruin, fear of breaking the fragile peace they’d built.

Cloud had been restless all day, his thoughts tangled since waking with Kadaj curled against him on the couch, the memory of that dream-kiss lingering like a ghost. He’d taken Fenrir to Seventh Heaven, needing distance, needing Tifa’s steady presence to ground him. The bar was quiet that afternoon, the lunch rush over, the tables empty save for a few regulars nursing drinks. Tifa was behind the counter, wiping glasses, her dark hair tied back, her eyes warm but perceptive as Cloud sat on a stool, his hands clasped around a coffee he hadn’t touched.

She noticed his silence, the way his jaw tightened, and set the glass down. “What’s on your mind, Cloud?” she asked, her voice gentle but direct, a friend who knew his shadows too well.

Cloud’s eyes stayed on the coffee, his fingers tracing the mug’s rim. He opened his mouth, then closed it, the words heavy, unfamiliar. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I think I love him,” he said, the admission raw, vulnerable. “Kadaj. But what if touching it ruins everything we built?”

Tifa’s hands stilled, her eyes softening with understanding. She leaned on the counter, close enough to offer comfort but giving him space. “You’re scared,” she said, not a question but a truth. “Of losing what you have with them all of them.”

Cloud nodded, his gaze lifting to meet hers, his blue eyes clouded with doubt. “They’re a family, Tifa. Kadaj, Loz, Yazoo, they’ve got something… unbreakable. I’m part of it now, but if I mess this up, if I push too far with him, it could break everything. For him. For them. For me.”

Tifa’s smile was small, warm, a light in her uncertainty. “Love doesn’t always break things, Cloud,” she said. “Sometimes it’s what holds them together. Kadaj trusts you. You’ve seen how he looks at you, how he stays close. That’s not nothing.”

Cloud’s chest tightened, memories flashing, Kadaj’s shoulder against his, the tea he made without asking, the way he’d curled into him in sleep. “What if it’s not enough?” he asked, his voice rough. “What if I’m not enough?”

Tifa reached out, her hand resting briefly on his. “You’re enough for him,” she said, her tone firm. “Just be honest. With him, with yourself. You’ve both been through too much to hide from this.”

Cloud nodded, the weight of her words settling over him, but he didn’t respond, his thoughts still churning. He finished his coffee, the warmth grounding him, and left the bar, Fenrir’s engine a steady hum as he rode back to the house, Tifa’s advice echoing in his mind.

Meanwhile, Kadaj was in the backyard, sitting on the steps under the oak tree, his knees drawn up, the gray scarf loose around his neck. The air was cool, the leaves crunching under his boots, but his thoughts were heavy, his heart racing with a question he couldn’t shake. Loz was inside, doing his carving project at the kitchen table. He said he needed to make something nice for Marlene, his laughter drifting through the open window, but Kadaj needed Yazoo, needing his sharp insight, needing his quiet truth.

Yazoo appeared, sensing Kadaj’s mood, his lean frame settling beside him on the steps. His green eyes flicked to Kadaj, noting the tension in his posture, the way his fingers twisted the scarf’s edge. “What’s eating you?” Yazoo asked, his voice calm but probing.

Kadaj’s gaze stayed on the ground, his silver hair falling across his eyes. He swallowed, the words fighting to escape, then spoke, his voice soft, hesitant. “If I told him I wanted more… would that ruin the peace?”

Yazoo paused, his eyes narrowing, but not with judgment, understanding, sharp and clear. He sat down, turning to face Kadaj fully, his gaze piercing. “Peace isn’t real if it silences your heart,” he said, his voice steady, cutting through Kadaj’s doubt. “You’re not a remnant anymore, Kadaj. You’re you. And you deserve to want.”

Kadaj’s breath hitched, his eyes lifting to meet Yazoo’s, shimmering with fear and hope. “What if he doesn’t want it?” he whispered. “What if I push him away? What if it breaks… us?”

Yazoo’s expression softened, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual reserve. “Cloud’s not like that,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “He’s stayed through worse than your heart, Kadaj. He’s stayed for you. For us. If you feel this, it’s because it’s already there, between you.”

Kadaj’s hands trembled, his fingers tightening on the scarf, Cloud’s gift a quiet anchor. He thought of their shoulders touching, the brush of Cloud’s hand, the warmth of waking curled against him. He thought of the ruins, of Cloud carrying him, of the life they’d built, fragile, yes, but strong. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible, raw with vulnerability.

Yazoo’s hand rested on Kadaj’s shoulder, light but steady. “Good,” he said, his lips curving slightly. “That means it’s real. Don’t hide from it.”

Kadaj nodded, his chest loosening, Yazoo’s words a light in his uncertainty. He leaned against his brother, just for a moment, drawing strength from their bond, then stood, brushing leaves from his knees. “Thanks,” he murmured, his smile small but genuine.

Yazoo got up and returned to the house. He needed to finish his book about how to grow other varieties of plants. Yazoo wanted some more fruit trees in the garden, Kadaj loved fruit, so did Loz, although he wouldn't admit it, adamant that meat was the only thing that gave him extraordinary strength. But his eyes followed Kadaj, soft with pride. “Go find him,” he said, his tone teasing but warm, and Kadaj laughed, a soft sound that carried into the house.

Cloud returned as the sun set, the sky a blaze of orange and purple. He found Kadaj in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup, his humming filling the air, a melody Cloud now knew by heart. Their eyes met, brief but charged, and Cloud felt it, the tension, the pull, the fear and hope that mirrored his own. Kadaj’s scarf swayed as he moved, his silver hair catching the lamplight, and Cloud’s heart ached, Tifa’s words echoing: You’re enough for him.

Dinner was quiet, Loz’s stories filling the space, Yazoo’s sharp glances noting the unspoken between Cloud and Kadaj. They sat close, their knees brushing under the table, a small touch that held a world of possibility. Cloud’s hand rested near Kadaj’s, not quite touching, and Kadaj didn’t pull away, his fingers still, waiting.

The house settled into the night, Loz’s snores drifting from the attic, Yazoo’s book open by the fire. Cloud and Kadaj stayed in the kitchen, cleaning up, their movements a quiet dance. They didn’t speak of their fears, their wants, but the air was heavy with it, a slow burn that was healing them, step by step, touch by touch.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge was bathed in the soft hush of a late autumn night, the air cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke from the fire inside. The windows glowed, casting warm light onto the porch, where the world seemed to pause, holding its breath. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had woven their lives into a quiet rhythm, their days filled with small acts of care that healed old wounds. But tonight, the slow burn between Cloud and Kadaj was a flame ready to spill, its heat too strong to contain.

It had been a long day, Cloud running deliveries for Tifa, Kadaj helping Loz with a repair on the fence,and  Yazoo quietly tending to a new batch of tea leaves drying in the kitchen. By evening, they were all tired, but the house felt alive, warm with their presence. Loz had retreated to the attic, his snores already drifting down, and Yazoo was by the fire, a book in his lap, his silver hair catching the light. Cloud and Kadaj stayed in the kitchen, a soft melody playing from a small radio Tifa had lent them, its notes weaving through the air like a gentle thread.

Kadaj had made tea, as he often did now, setting a cup in front of Cloud, warm, sweet, just right, before sitting at the table with his own. The gesture was familiar, a quiet care that had become their language, but tonight, it felt heavier, charged with the unspoken. Cloud sipped his tea, his blue eyes flicking to Kadaj, noting the way his scarf hung loose, the gray knit brushing his collarbone, the way his fingers traced the cup’s rim, delicate but sure.

They’d started folding laundry together, Loz’s oversized shirts, Yazoo’s neatly pressed jackets, Kadaj’s sweaters, Cloud’s worn tees. It was mundane, almost absurdly so, but the act grounded them, their hands moving in a quiet dance. The radio played on, a soft ballad about lost roads and found hearts, and the kitchen was warm, the fire’s glow seeping through the doorway.

Their hands brushed as they reached for the same shirt, Cloud’s fingers grazing Kadaj’s, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through them both. Cloud froze, his breath catching, but he didn’t pull away, his hand lingering, the warmth of Kadaj’s skin a quiet shock. Kadaj’s eyes widened, his green gaze meeting Cloud’s, shimmering with something raw, fear, hope, want. The moment stretched, the radio’s melody fading into the background, the world narrowing to their hands, their breath, their hearts.

Cloud swallowed, his voice low, barely audible over the soft music. “I want more,” he whispered, the words spilling out, raw and unpolished, a confession he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Kadaj froze, his hand trembling beneath Cloud’s, his breath hitching. “More of what?” he asked, his voice shaking, soft but urgent, as if afraid of the answer but needing it all the same.

Cloud’s heart raced, but he didn’t look away, his hand moving to clasp Kadaj’s, firm but gentle, grounding them both. “You,” he said, his voice steady now, the truth laid bare. “I want you, Kadaj.”

Kadaj’s eyes widened, his lips parting, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to want you,” he whispered, his voice breaking, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. “I thought… it would ruin everything.”

Cloud’s chest ached, the vulnerability in Kadaj’s words a mirror to his own fears. He let go of Kadaj’s hand, only to reach out, his fingers cupping Kadaj’s cheek, his thumb brushing the soft skin beneath his eye. “I’ve been trying not to want you for months,” he said, his voice low, rough with emotion. “But I can’t. Not anymore.”

Kadaj’s tears spilled, silent and shimmering, but he leaned into Cloud’s touch, his eyes fluttering closed, a small, trembling smile curving his lips. The distance between them closed, slow and inevitable, their breaths mingling in the warm air. Cloud leaned in, his lips brushing Kadaj’s, gentle, breathless, a kiss that felt like a promise, like healing, like home. Kadaj kissed back, soft but sure, his hands rising to clutch Cloud’s shirt, anchoring himself in the moment.

The kiss was brief, a tender spark in the quiet kitchen, but it held everything, their fears, their hopes, their love. They pulled back, their foreheads resting together, their breaths uneven, Kadaj’s tears wet against Cloud’s fingers. Cloud’s hand stayed on Kadaj’s cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles, and Kadaj’s smile grew, fragile but real, his green eyes shining with a light Cloud hadn’t seen before.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Kadaj whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his hands still gripping Cloud’s shirt. “I didn’t know I could… want this.”

Cloud’s lips curved, a rare, soft smile that reached his eyes. “Me neither,” he said, his voice warm, steady, a vow in itself. “But we’re here now.”

They stayed like that, close, the laundry forgotten, the radio’s melody a soft backdrop to their quiet. The house was still, Loz’s snores a faint hum, Yazoo’s book untouched by the fire. Kadaj’s tears slowed, his body relaxing against Cloud’s, and Cloud held him, his hand sliding to Kadaj’s hair, smoothing the silver strands with a care that felt new but right.

The moment was theirs, a confession that spilled everything, love, fear, the healing they’d found in each other. Kadaj’s past, his pain, the weight of being a remnant, seemed lighter in Cloud’s arms, and Cloud’s scars, his losses, felt softer in Kadaj’s trust. They were falling, slow and sure, into something that could hold them both.

Kadaj yawned, the day’s weight catching up, and Cloud chuckled, a low sound that vibrated between them. “Come on,” he said, standing, his hand still holding Kadaj’s. “Let’s finish this tomorrow.”

Kadaj nodded, his smile lingering, and they moved to the living room, the fire’s embers casting a soft glow. They settled on the couch, Kadaj curling close, his head against Cloud’s shoulder, the scarf a soft barrier between them. Cloud’s arm rested around him, a quiet claim, and they drifted, the music fading, the night holding them close.

Yazoo glanced up from his book, his green eyes sharp but soft, noting the way Kadaj’s hand rested on Cloud’s knee, the way Cloud’s fingers traced Kadaj’s scarf. He didn’t speak, but his lips twitched, a silent approval, and he returned to his book, letting them have their moment.

The house on the outskirts of Edge was warm, its walls holding their love, a slow burn that was healing them, kiss by kiss, touch by touch. They were together, and that was enough.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge was alive with the clamor of a winter afternoon, the air sharp with the scent of spices and sizzling oil, the windows fogged from the heat of the kitchen. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had settled into a life that felt like a warm embrace, their days filled with laughter, small tasks, and the quiet love that bound them. Cloud and Kadaj’s relationship had deepened, their love a steady light that warmed the home, but today, the spotlight was on Loz and Yazoo, whose sibling rivalry had sparked a cooking competition that turned the kitchen into a battlefield, and left Cloud and Kadaj caught in the crossfire.

It started at breakfast, when Loz boasted about his “legendary” stew, only for Yazoo to roll his eyes and claim his herb-crusted fish was “art, not food.” The argument escalated, forks waving, until Kadaj, sipping his tea, grinned and declared, “Fine. Prove it. Cooking competition. I’m the referee.” Cloud, halfway through his coffee, choked, sensing trouble, but Kadaj’s mischievous glance sealed his fate. “And Cloud’s the judge,” Kadaj added, his voice teasing, his green eyes sparkling with delight.

By noon, the kitchen was a war zone. Loz, his sleeves rolled up, commandeered one counter, his massive hands kneading dough with a focus that rivaled his fightting skill. Yazoo claimed the other, his lean frame moving with precision, chopping herbs with a knife that glinted like his Velvet Nightmares. The air was thick with competing aromas, Loz’s savory meatloaf, Yazoo’s fragrant spices, and the brothers’ banter, sharp but playful, filled the room.

Cloud sat at the table, his arms crossed, trying to look neutral but feeling like a chocobo in a stampede. Kadaj perched beside him, his gray scarf loose around his neck, his silver hair catching the winter light through the window. He leaned close, his shoulder brushing Cloud’s, and whispered, “This is gonna be fun,” his voice warm with mischief. Cloud’s lips twitched, but his blue eyes flicked nervously between the brothers, praying he wouldn’t have to pick a side.

Yazoo worked with an artist’s focus, his dish a delicate arrangement of seared fish, drizzled with a sauce that smelled of lemon and thyme, garnished with tiny sprigs of parsley. He plated it with care, his green eyes narrowing as he adjusted a leaf, his expression as serious as if he were aiming a gun. “Perfection,” he muttered, sliding the plate toward Kadaj, his smirk daring Loz to compete.

Loz, undaunted, presented his masterpiece, a heart-shaped meatloaf, glazed with a rich tomato sauce, surrounded by mashed potatoes piped into clumsy rosettes. “It’s hearty,” he declared, his grin wide, his hands on his hips. “Food that sticks to your ribs. Not that fancy nonsense.” He set the plate beside Yazoo’s, nearly knocking over a glass, and Kadaj stifled a laugh, his hand covering his mouth.

Kadaj inspected the dishes, his eyes gleaming with mock solemnity, his scarf swaying as he leaned forward. He took a bite of Yazoo’s fish, chewing slowly, his hum of approval making Yazoo’s smirk widen. Then he tried Loz’s meatloaf, his eyebrows lifting, a soft “Mmm” escaping his lips, and Loz puffed out his chest, shooting Yazoo a triumphant glance. Cloud shifted in his seat, his hands tightening, sensing the trap closing.

“Well?” Yazoo asked, his voice smooth but edged, his arms crossed. “Who wins, little brother?”

Loz leaned in, his bulk looming. “Yeah, Kadaj. Pick the best.”

Kadaj’s grin widened, his eyes flicking to Cloud, a spark of mischief that made Cloud’s stomach drop. “I’m not choosing,” Kadaj said, his voice light but firm, leaning back in his chair. “Cloud will choose.”

Cloud’s eyes widened, his breath catching. “What?” he said, his voice rough, his gaze darting between the brothers, who turned to him with expectant stares. Yazoo’s smirk was sharp, Loz’s grin unrelenting, and Kadaj’s laughter was barely contained, his hand resting on Cloud’s arm, warm and teasing.

“Uh,” Cloud started, his mind racing, sweat prickling his neck. He looked at the plates. Yazoo’s elegant fish, Loz’s hearty meatloaf, both impressive, both made with care. He thought of Loz’s booming laughter, Yazoo’s quiet approval, the family they’d built. He couldn’t choose, not without risking a riot. “They’re… both good,” he said, his voice cautious, his hands raised in surrender. “I can’t pick.”

Loz’s jaw dropped, his hand slamming the table, rattling the plates. “Both? That’s a cop-out!” he bellowed, but his grin betrayed his amusement.

Yazoo’s eyes narrowed, his smirk twitching. “Coward,” he said, his tone dry, but he leaned back, clearly entertained.

Kadaj burst into laughter, bright and unrestrained, his head tilting back, his scarf slipping slightly. “You’re hopeless, Cloud,” he said, his voice warm, his hand squeezing Cloud’s arm. “Fine. No winner. We eat together.”

Cloud exhaled, relief washing over him, and Kadaj’s laughter was a balm, his love a quiet anchor. The table was set, the dishes shared, and the kitchen filled with their chatter, the tension dissolving into warmth. Yazoo’s fish was light, its spices perfectly balanced, earning nods of approval, even from Loz. Loz’s meatloaf was rich, comforting, and Kadaj took an extra slice, his teasing grin aimed at his brother. Cloud ate quietly, his knee brushing Kadaj’s under the table, their closeness a steady pulse beneath the noise.

Loz recounted his cooking mishaps, his hands waving, nearly knocking over the water pitcher, while Yazoo’s sharp retorts kept the laughter flowing. Kadaj leaned against Cloud, his shoulder warm, his scarf brushing Cloud’s hand, and Cloud’s fingers grazed Kadaj’s, a soft touch that grounded them both. Their love was woven into these moments, shared meals, sibling rivalries, the quiet joy of family.

As they cleared the table, Kadaj caught Cloud’s hand, pulling him close, his lips brushing Cloud’s cheek in a quick, playful kiss. “You’re terrible at judging,” he teased, his green eyes sparkling, his smile shy but bright.

Cloud’s lips curved, his hand resting on Kadaj’s waist, a quiet claim. “You set me up,” he said, his voice low, warm, and Kadaj’s laughter was soft, a sound that lit Cloud’s heart.

Yazoo, drying a plate, smirked over his shoulder. “Get a room,” he said, his tone dry but fond, and Loz guffawed, nearly dropping a glass, his grin wide enough to light the kitchen.

The house settled into evening, the fire crackling in the living room, the dishes done, the competition forgotten. They sat together, Kadaj curled against Cloud on the couch, Loz planing on his a new project a new cooking recipe maybe or build something for his family. Yazoo reading by the fire. The winter night was cold, but the house was warm, its walls holding their family, a love that laughed, teased, and healed, one meal at a time.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edgewood glowed under a spring afternoon’s sun, the air warm and sweet with the scent of blooming clover and fresh earth. The trees along the lane were heavy with new leaves, their green tips swaying in a gentle breeze, and the distant hum of Edge city felt like a soft echo of the season’s renewal. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had woven their lives into this vibrant spring, their home a haven of laughter and love, where Cloud and Kadaj’s deep bond shone steady, and the brothers’ antics kept the days lively. But today, Loz’s latest obsession, a fortress-worthy back fence had turned the yard into a chaotic masterpiece, pulling everyone into his grand vision.

It started at dawn, when Loz surveyed the old wooden fence, its slats weathered but sturdy, and declared it “a security risk.” “Not secure enough,” he’d muttered, his broad shoulders squared, his green eyes glinting with determination. By mid-morning, he’d hauled in a pile of cinder blocks from a salvage yard, his truck groaning under the load, and armed with a trowel and mortar, he’d begun building what he called “the ultimate wall.” The backyard, once a sunny patch for Yazoo’s garden and Kadaj’s lounging, was now a construction site, the ground littered with tools and dust.

Yazoo noticed the chaos from the kitchen window, his lean frame tensing as he saw the wall’s shadow creep over his garden, a tidy plot of basil, thyme, and early lettuce, lovingly tended for his cooking. He stormed outside, his silver hair tied back, his green eyes sharp with irritation. “Loz,” he said, his voice calm but cutting, “your monstrosity is blocking the light. My plants need sun, not a bunker.”

Loz paused, a cinder block in his hands, his grin undaunted. “Plants are tough,” he said, setting the block with a thud. “This wall’s gonna keep us safe. You’ll thank me when we’re not invaded.”

“Invaded by what?” Yazoo snapped, gesturing to the quiet yard. “Bee, Bugs...? The lettuce isn’t plotting against us.”

Kadaj, lounging on the porch steps in a loose sweater, his silver hair catching the sunlight, watched the argument with a grin, his legs stretched out. He’d been reading a book of how to keep you love alive, but Loz’s project was far more entertaining. “Let him build his fortress,” he called, his voice teasing, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s kind of cute.”

Loz beamed, missing the sarcasm, while Yazoo shot Kadaj a withering look. “Don’t encourage him,” Yazoo said, but his lips twitched, a sign he wasn’t truly angry just inconvenienced.

By afternoon, the wall had grown to three meters, a gray monolith that loomed over the yard, its surface rough and imposing. Yazoo’s garden was half in shadow, his muttering audible as he fussed over his plants, relocating pots with a precision that rivaled his gun work. Loz, undeterred, kept stacking, his shirt damp with sweat, his humming a cheerful counterpoint to the clink of his trowel.

Kadaj, never one to stay idle, had an idea. Without asking, he raided the shed and few minutes later he emerging with cans of paint bright blue and gold. He set up on a ladder, a brush in hand, and began painting the wall, sweeping bold blue strokes across the cinder blocks, adding gold swirls in a chaotic, vibrant pattern. His sweater was flecked with paint, his hair tied back loosely, strands escaping to frame his face, and his grin was wide, unapologetic.
Loz paused, staring. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion.

“Making it pretty,” Kadaj said, dipping his brush in gold, adding a flourish that looked like a comet. “Your wall’s too boring.”

Yazoo, adjusting a basil plant, glanced up and snorted. “It’s still blocking my light,” he said, but his tone softened, amused by Kadaj’s audacity. “At least it’s not gray anymore.”

Cloud returned home late that afternoon, Fenrir’s engine growling as he pulled up, his delivery run for few cuntomers out of Edge done. He stepped into the yard, his blond hair catching the spring light, and froze, his blue eyes widening at the sight before him, a three-meter cinder block wall, painted in wild blue and gold swirls, dominating the backyard. Loz stood proudly beside it, trowel in hand. Yazoo was rearranging his garden pots with a scowl, and Kadaj, paint-splattered and grinning, waved from his ladder.

“What…the hell is this?” Cloud asked, his voice flat, looking at the 3-meter wall that wasn’t there yesterday nor this morning when he leave the house. Then his gaze moving from the wall to Kadaj, who looked far too pleased with himself.

Kadaj climbed down, brushing paint from his hands, his sweater clinging to his frame. “It’s abstract,” he said, his voice light, his green eyes dancing with mischief.

Cloud raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “It’s insane.”

Loz crossed his arms, his grin wide. “It’s fortified,” he said, patting the wall like a pet. “No one’s getting through this.”

Yazoo, setting down a pot, muttered, “No light’s getting through either,” but his smirk betrayed his amusement, his irritation fading in the face of their chaos.

Cloud shook his head, a rare chuckle escaping, and crossed to Kadaj, his hand resting briefly on Kadaj’s waist, a quiet touch that grounded them both. “You couldn’t just plant flowers?” he teased, his voice low, warm, his eyes soft with love.

Kadaj leaned into him, his smile shy but bright. “Where’s the fun in that?” he said, his paint-flecked fingers brushing Cloud’s arm, a spark of their bond in the spring air.

The argument over the wall continued over dinner, the kitchen filled with the scent of Yazoo’s herb-infused soup, salvaged from his garden’s survivors. Loz defended his fortress, waving a spoon for emphasis, while Yazoo countered with plans to trellis vines to “reclaim the light.” Kadaj, sitting close to Cloud, their knees brushing under the table, laughed at their bickering, his joy a light that warmed the room.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Kadaj said, his voice teasing, his hair catching the lamplight. “It’s my wall now. I painted it.”

Loz guffawed, nearly spilling his soup, while Yazoo’s smirk sharpened, his spoon pausing. “Your wall’s an eyesore,” he said, but his tone was fond, his green eyes soft with pride.

Cloud sipped his soup, his hand resting on Kadaj’s, their fingers intertwined, a quiet claim. “As long as it doesn’t fall on the house,” he said, his voice dry but warm, earning a laugh from Kadaj, bright and unrestrained.

The evening settled, the dishes done, the fire crackling in the living room. They gathered there, Loz sketching plans for “wall upgrades,” Yazoo reading by the fire, Kadaj curled against Cloud on the couch, his sweater still paint-flecked, his head on Cloud’s shoulder. The spring night was soft, the yard’s new wall a testament to their family, chaotic, vibrant, unbreakable.

The house held them, its walls alive with their love, their laughter, their healing, and the backyard, now a riot of color and stone, was theirs, a slice of life that bloomed with every season.

Chapter Text

The house on the outskirts of Edge was touched by the gentle warmth of a spring, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming cherry blossoms and the soft chirp of sparrows settling in the trees. Cloud , Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had built a life that bloomed with the season, their home a haven of love and shared moments. Cloud and Kadaj’s romance was a steady light, grounding their days, but today, an accident at Seventh Heaven would shake their family, drawing them closer and revealing to Kadaj the depth of his bond with his brothers.

The trouble began in the late afternoon, when Loz, ever eager to help, was hauling crates of supplies at the bar. Tifa had received a large delivery, bottles, produce, and heavy sacks of flour, and Loz, with his massive strength, took on the heaviest loads, his grin wide as he stacked crates in the storeroom. But a misstep on a slick floor sent a crate tumbling, pinning his leg with a sharp crack that silenced the bar’s usual chatter.

Tifa called Cloud, her voice calm but urgent, and he was there in minutes, Fenrir’s engine still warm as he rushed inside. Loz sat on the floor, his face pale but his grin forced, sweat beading on his brow. “Just a scratch,” he said, his voice rough, but the angle of his leg told a different story. Cloud knelt beside him, his blue eyes steady, his hands gentle as he checked the injury. “We’re getting you to a clinic,” he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Kadaj and Yazoo arrived soon after, summoned by Tifa’s call, their silver hair catching the bar’s warm light. Kadaj’s green eyes widened at the sight of Loz, his light jacket slipping off one shoulder, his hands clenching at his sides. Yazoo’s expression was calmer, his lean frame tense but composed, his green eyes sharp as he assessed the scene. “What did you do, you oaf?” Yazoo asked, his voice dry, but his hand rested briefly on Loz’s shoulder, a silent comfort.

Cloud and Tifa helped Loz to Fenrir’s sidecar, a makeshift stretcher, and Cloud drove him to a small clinic in Edge, the spring air cool against their faces. Kadaj and Yazoo followed on foot, their steps quick, the cherry blossoms lining the path a soft contrast to their worry. At the clinic, a no-nonsense doctor examined Loz, diagnosing a sprained knee and a deep bruise, but no fracture. “Rest, ice, and no heavy lifting for a month,” she said, fitting Loz with a brace, her tone brisk but kind.

Kadaj and Yazoo waited in the clinic’s small lobby, the air sterile, the chairs hard. Kadaj sat with his knees drawn up, his silver hair falling across his eyes, his fingers twisting the hem of his jacket. He trembled, a quiet shake that Yazoo noticed, his sharp gaze softening. “He’s fine,” Yazoo said, his voice low, steady, his hand resting on Kadaj’s arm. “Loz is too stubborn to break.”

Kadaj nodded, but his eyes were distant, his trembling unchecked. He thought of Loz’s booming laugh, his clumsy carvings, his heart-shaped meatloaf, small things that had become anchors in their life. He thought of Yazoo’s quiet care, his sharp teasing, the way he’d held him in the Forgotten City. The fear of losing them, of their family unraveling, gripped him, a cold weight in his chest. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t know...you all...meant this much to me.”

Yazoo’s hand tightened, a rare warmth breaking through his reserve. “We do, you too. Meant very much to us” he said, his tone soft, a truth shared in the quiet lobby. “We’re family, Kadaj.”

The doctor emerged, confirming Loz’s stable condition, and Cloud wheeled him out, Loz’s grin returning, though tempered by pain. “Told you it was a scratch,” he said, his voice lighter, his brace clunky but secure. Kadaj stood, his trembling easing, and rushed to Loz, his arms wrapping around him in a quick, fierce hug, his face buried in Loz’s shoulder.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Kadaj muttered, his voice muffled, his silver hair tangled against Loz’s shirt. Loz’s grin softened, his massive hand patting Kadaj’s back, gentle despite his strength.

“Come on, I’m tougher than that, this is nothi..ouch ouch” Loz said, his tone warm, his eyes bright with pride. Yazoo smirked, leaning against the wall, his relief quiet but clear.

Cloud watched, his blue eyes soft, a quiet pride in his chest. He’d seen Kadaj’s growth, his journey from remnant to brother, to lover, to family, and this moment, Kadaj’s fear, his love, was a testament to their healing. He stepped close, his hand brushing Kadaj’s, their fingers intertwining, a silent anchor.

They returned home as dusk settled, the spring sky a soft pink, the cherry blossoms glowing in the fading light. Loz propped his leg on a stool in the living room, grumbling about the brace but accepting Yazoo’s offer of tea. Kadaj fussed, bringing pillows, his light jacket discarded on the couch, his green eyes still shadowed but warm. Cloud lit the fire, the room filling with its gentle crackle, the house a haven once more.

That night, they gathered on the couch, Kadaj sitting between Loz and Yazoo, his knees drawn up, his silver hair catching the firelight. The air was quiet, the spring breeze soft through the open window, and Kadaj took a breath, his voice low but steady. “You two… mean something to me now,” he said, his eyes on the fire, his words raw, vulnerable. “I didn’t see it before. But you’re my family.”

Loz’s grin was wide, his hand ruffling Kadaj’s hair, earning a playful swat. “Always were, little brother,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes misty again. Yazoo’s smirk was soft, his hand resting on Kadaj’s shoulder, a silent agreement, his green eyes warm with pride.

Cloud watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame, his blond hair soft in the firelight, his heart full. Kadaj’s words, his love for his brothers, were a victory, a healing that echoed their own. He crossed to Kadaj, sitting beside him, his hand finding Kadaj’s, their fingers intertwining, a quiet claim. Kadaj leaned into him, his head on Cloud’s shoulder, his smile shy but radiant, their love a light that held them all.

The house was warm, the cherry blossoms’ scent drifting inside, the fire’s glow a mirror to their bond. Loz’s snores started, his leg still propped, and Yazoo’s book lay open, his eyes on his brothers, soft with care. Kadaj’s past, Cloud’s scars, they were lighter now, softened by this family, this love. The spring night held them, a slice of life that bloomed with every moment, unbreakable and true.

Chapter Text

The bar on the outskirts of Edge glowed with the festive chaos of a spring evening, Seventh Heaven transformed into a mini carnival for the kids and the crew, its walls draped with colorful streamers and fairy lights twinkling like stars. The air was warm with the scent of blooming honeysuckle drifting through open windows, mingling with the sugary aroma of popcorn and cotton candy. Cloud, Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo had woven their lives into this vibrant season, their home a sanctuary of love and laughter, and tonight, they joined their friends in a celebration that brought Edge’s heart to life. Cloud and Kadaj’s romance was a quiet flame, but the carnival’s sparkle would draw out a blush and a secret keepsake that warmed Kadaj’s heart.

Tifa had planned the event for weeks, turning the bar into a playground for Marlene, Denzel, and the local kids, with stalls, games, and music to delight the adults too. The idea was to raise funds for the orphanage, and the crew Barret, Yuffie, Cloud, and the brothers pitched in with enthusiasm. Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz were tasked with running a photo booth, a corner of the bar decked out with a backdrop of painted clouds and stars, a pile of silly props like hats and glasses waiting to be used. Tifa had given them matching shirts, bright green with “Carnival Crew” printed in bold yellow, and they wore them with varying degrees of pride.

Kadaj’s silver hair caught the fairy lights as he adjusted the camera, his green eyes sparkling with amusement, the shirt slightly loose on his lean frame, tucked into his jeans. “This is ridiculous,” he said, holding up a feather boa, but his grin betrayed his enjoyment. Yazoo, his hair tied back, smirked, his shirt pristine, his lean hands sorting props with precision. “You’re just mad you look good in green,” he teased, tossing Kadaj a pair of oversized sunglasses.

Loz, his shirt stretched tight across his broad chest, was already posing with a fake mustache, his grin wide as he waved at passing kids. “This is awesome!” he boomed, his brace from his recent injury barely slowing him, his enthusiasm infectious. The brothers’ banter filled the booth, their bond a warm thread in the carnival’s chaos.

Cloud lingered nearby, helping Barret set up a dunk tank, his blond hair soft in the bar’s glow, his blue eyes flicking to Kadaj often, a quiet smile curving his lips. Kadaj caught one glance, his cheeks warming, and busied himself with the camera, his fingers brushing the lens, a shy spark of their love in the festive air.

The bar was alive with activity. Yuffie ran a game stall, ring toss with prizes like teddybear and other stuffed, cheating blatantly, her grin unapologetic as she “accidentally” nudged rings onto pegs. “Winner!” she crowed, handing a toy to a giggling kid, her pile of prizes less and less due her own rules, but she happy because the kids all have their prize and all happy. Tifa, behind the counter, served lemonade and hot dogs, her smile bright, while Barret, testing a folding chair, got stuck, his massive frame wedged tight, his curses muffled by Marlene’s laughter. “Help me out, Cloud!” he growled, but Cloud’s chuckle only made him grumble louder.

Denzel shone at the ring toss, his focus sharp, winning a small moogle plushie that he gave to Marlene, earning her beaming smile. Marlene, with a table of her own, made “love fortune” cards, her crayons scribbling hearts and stars, her pigtails bouncing as she handed them out to anyone who passed.

At the photo booth, Kadaj snapped pictures of kids in pirate hats, couples with fake mustaches, and Tifa striking a dramatic pose with a crown. When Cloud wandered over, his hands in his pockets, Kadaj grinned, waving him into the booth. “Your turn, hero,” he teased, his voice light, his green eyes dancing with mischief.

Cloud raised an eyebrow but humored him, sitting on the stool, his expression stoic until Kadaj tossed him a cowboy hat. “Really?” Cloud said, but he put it on, his lips twitching as Kadaj adjusted it, their fingers brushing, a spark that warmed them both. Kadaj snapped the photo, the flash catching Cloud’s rare, soft smile, his blue eyes locked on Kadaj. The printer whirred, spitting out two copies, and Kadaj, with a sly glance, pocketed one, tucking it into his jeans before handing the other to Cloud.

“Souvenir,” Kadaj said, his voice casual, but his cheeks were pink, his heart racing at the secret keepsake, a piece of Cloud to carry close.

Cloud’s gaze darkened briefly, a knowing look, but he took the photo, his fingers lingering on Kadaj’s, a quiet promise for later. “Sneaky,” he murmured, his voice low, warm, and Kadaj’s blush deepened, his grin shy but bright.

The carnival rolled on, the bar filled with laughter and music, a local band playing upbeat tunes on a makeshift stage. Barret, finally freed from the chair, manned the dunk tank, his roars of mock outrage echoing as kids splashed him. Yuffie’s stall ran out of prizes, her cheating earning playful boos, but she just laughed, tossing candy into the crowd. Denzel and Marlene darted between stalls, their arms full of trinkets, their joy lighting the room.

Marlene approached the photo booth, her hands behind her back, her eyes bright. “Kadaj, I made you something,” she said, holding out a “love fortune” card pink paper covered in glitter, a heart drawn around the words: You’ll marry someone with spiky blond hair.

Kadaj froze, his cheeks flaming, his green eyes wide as he read the card. Loz guffawed, clapping Kadaj’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over, while Yazoo’s smirk was sharp, his slow clap a teasing echo. “Good call, kid,” Yazoo said, his voice dry, his eyes fond.

Kadaj stammered, his fingers clutching the card, his blush spreading to his ears. “Thanks, Marlene,” he mumbled, slipping the card into his pocket with the photo, his heart racing at the playful prophecy, the image of Cloud’s spiky hair vivid in his mind. Marlene beamed, skipping off to her table, unaware of the warmth she’d sparked.

Cloud, catching the exchange from the dunk tank, crossed to Kadaj, his hand resting lightly on his waist, his lips brushing Kadaj’s temple. “What’s got you so red?” he teased, his voice low, his blue eyes glinting with amusement.

Kadaj swatted him, his blush unrelenting, but he leaned into Cloud, his smile shy, radiant. “Nothing you need to know,” he said, his voice teasing, his hand brushing Cloud’s, their love a quiet pulse in the carnival’s noise.

The night wound down, the kids sent home with prizes, the bar quieting as Tifa counted donations, her smile wide at the orphanage’s windfall. Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz packed up the photo booth, their matching shirts rumpled, their laughter soft. Cloud helped Barret dry off, his chuckles rare but warm, while Yuffie planned her next prank.

Back home, the house was warm, the spring breeze carrying honeysuckle through the windows. Kadaj sat on the couch, the photo and card in his pocket, his silver hair loose, his green eyes soft as he leaned against Cloud. Loz and Yazoo sprawled nearby, recounting the night’s highlights, their bond a steady light. The carnival had been chaos, but it was theirs, a family that laughed, loved, and healed, blooming with every spring night.

Chapter Text

Don’t Let Him Fall

The night before their final stand hung heavy over Midgar’s ruins, the air thick with the scent of rust and decay. The city’s broken skeleton sprawled beneath a pale moon, its light casting jagged shadows across the rooftop where Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo sat. The remnants, bound by a purpose that burned in their blood, were silent, their usual fire dimmed by the weight of what tomorrow would bring. The wind whispered through the shattered spires, carrying echoes of a world they’d never truly known, and the three brothers, remnants of a greater will, clung to each other in the stillness.

Kadaj perched on the edge of the rooftop, his knees drawn up, his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. His green eyes were distant, fixed on the horizon where Edge’s lights flickered, a world apart from the chaos they’d been born into. He was quiet, too quiet, his usual sharpness dulled by something unspoken. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching as if grasping for a certainty he couldn’t find. The Souba lay beside him, its blades glinting, a silent promise of the fight to come.

Yazoo sat close, his lean frame graceful even in stillness. He held a small comb, its teeth worn but functional, and worked it gently through Kadaj’s hair. The act was tender, a rare softness in a life defined by edges. Yazoo’s movements were deliberate, each stroke smoothing the tangled strands, his own silver hair falling over his shoulder as he leaned forward. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to, his touch said enough, a quiet anchor for the brother who carried their purpose like a weight.

Loz sat a few paces away, his broad shoulders hunched, his Dual Hound across his lap. He wiped it with a cloth, again and again, the motion mechanical, almost obsessive. Everything was already clean and ready for the fight, it gleaming in the moonlight, but Loz kept at it, his eyes fixed on the task, avoiding the gazes of his brothers. His hands, strong enough to shatter stone, moved with a care that betrayed his unease, the cloth catching on calluses as he worked.

The silence stretched, heavy but not empty, filled with the unspoken bond that tied them together. They were remnants, fragments of Sephiroth’s will, but in this moment, they were more; they are brothers, bound by something deeper than their creator’s intent. The moon watched, pale and unjudging, as the night pressed closer.

Yazoo broke the silence first, his voice low, almost lost in the wind. “If one of us dies…” He paused, his comb stilling in Kadaj’s hair, his eyes flicking to Loz. “Protect him.”

Loz’s hands froze on the cloth, his jaw tightening. He didn’t look up, but his voice was steady, rough with conviction. “I’ll carry him if I have to.”

Kadaj’s head snapped up, his eyes sharp, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. “You won’t have to,” he whispered, his voice fierce but fragile, like a blade on the verge of breaking. “I’ll finish what we started.”

Yazoo and Loz exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. They knew the truth, even if Kadaj refused to see it. Tomorrow’s fight was a crucible, and none of them might walk away. Kadaj’s fire burned brightest, his will the sharpest, but it was a flame that could consume him. They saw it, the fragility beneath his defiance, the boy beneath the remnant, and their hearts ached with a love they’d never been taught to name.

Loz set his Dual Hound aside, the cloth falling to the rooftop. He shifted closer, his bulk a steady presence, and rested a hand on Kadaj’s shoulder. “We’re with you,” he said, his voice softer than usual, the words heavy with unspoken promises. “Always.”

Kadaj’s lips trembled, but he didn’t pull away. He leaned into Loz’s touch, just slightly, his eyes dropping to the rooftop, where the moonlight pooled like water. Yazoo resumed combing, his fingers gentle, finishing the task with a care that felt like a vow. The wind stirred, cold and sharp, but the three of them were warm, their closeness a shield against the night.

They didn’t say goodbye. The word was too final, too heavy for the bond they shared. Instead, Kadaj shifted, turning to face his brothers. He reached out, his hands finding theirs, and pulled them close. They pressed their foreheads together, a silent communion, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Kadaj’s eyes were wet, though no tears fell, and Loz’s grip was firm, steadying. Yazoo’s touch was light, but his presence was unyielding, a quiet strength that held them together.

They stayed like that, three against the world, breathing as one. The moon hung above, a witness to their unspoken love, their fear, their resolve. Tomorrow would come, with its blades and blood and chaos, but tonight was theirs. They were remnants, yes, but they were also brothers, and that was enough.

The rooftop was silent save for their breathing, the wind carrying their moment into the night. They didn’t speak again, didn’t need to. The touch of their hands, the press of their foreheads, said everything, love, loyalty, a promise to hold on, no matter what came next.

Chapter Text

If I Disappear First

The air in Midgar’s ruins was thick with the promise of violence, the sky above a bruised gray, heavy with the weight of the coming battle. The remnants Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo stood on the edge of a crumbling plaza, the city’s shattered bones stretching around them. The hum of their motorcycles lingered, engines cooling in the dust, but the real storm was in their eyes, their hearts, their hands that gripped weapons with a purpose that burned like fire. Minutes remained before the fight that would define them, before Cloud Strife and his allies would meet them in a clash of steel and will. But for now, it was just the three of them, brothers bound by something deeper than their creator’s intent.

Kadaj stepped away from the others, his Souba strapped across his back, its blades glinting in the dim light. His silver hair whipped in the wind, his green eyes sharp but shadowed, carrying a weight that hadn’t been there the night before. He turned, his movements quick, almost urgent, and gestured for Loz and Yazoo to follow. “Come here,” he said, his voice low, cutting through the distant rumble of thunder.

Loz and Yazoo exchanged a glance, their instincts honed to Kadaj’s every shift. Loz’s massive frame moved first, his boots crunching on broken stone, his Dual Hound feel heavy on his arm. Yazoo followed, his steps silent, his lean figure a contrast to Loz’s bulk. They joined Kadaj in a shadowed corner of the plaza, where a shattered pillar offered a fleeting shield from the world’s eyes. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of rust and rain, but the space between them was warm, alive with their shared presence.

Kadaj’s gaze flicked between his brothers, his lips parting as if the words were fighting to escape. He swallowed, his hands flexing, then spoke, his voice soft but fierce. “If I disappear first… please don’t cry.”

The words landed like a blade, sharp and sudden, cutting through the silence. Loz’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening, and he stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “You think I’m gonna let you go alone?” His hands clenched, the leather of his gloves creaking, his protectiveness a wall against Kadaj’s words. “Not happening, Kadaj. We’re in this together.”

Yazoo’s reaction was quieter, but no less intense. His green eyes, so like Kadaj’s, shimmered with something raw, almost broken. “Don’t you dare act like you’re disposable,” he said, his voice trembling at the edges, a rare crack in his composed facade. He took a step forward, his hand hovering as if to reach out, then falling to his side. “You’re not just… some tool. You’re us.”

Kadaj’s breath hitched, his defiance faltering under the weight of their words. He looked at them, Loz, solid and unyielding, ready to carry the world for him; Yazoo, sharp and steady, his tenderness hidden but fierce. They were his brothers, his everything, the only constants in a life born from chaos. He reached out, his hands finding theirs, cupping them with a gentleness that belied the fire in his soul. “You’re all I ever had,” he said, his voice breaking, barely above a whisper. “You’re all I ever loved.”

Loz’s growl softened, his massive hands enveloping Kadaj’s, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid to break him. Yazoo’s fingers tightened, his usual restraint giving way to a quiet desperation, holding on as if he could keep Kadaj from slipping away. They stood there, hands clasped, a triangle of strength and vulnerability, their silver hair mingling in the wind. The world around them, the ruins, the battle, the purpose that drove them faded, leaving only this moment, this love that no one had taught them but that they’d forged themselves.

They didn’t speak for a long moment, the silence heavy with the truth of Kadaj’s words. They knew what was coming, the fight that might consume them all. Kadaj’s fire burned brightest, his will the sharpest, but it was a flame that could burn out. Loz and Yazoo felt it, the fragility beneath his resolve, and their hearts ached with a protectiveness that went beyond duty. They were remnants, yes, but they were brothers first, and they would fight for each other, no matter the cost.

Loz broke the silence, his voice rough but steady. “We’ll keep you safe,” he said, his eyes locked on Kadaj’s. “No matter what.”

Yazoo nodded, his composure returning but his grip still tight. “We’re not losing you,” he said, his tone firm, a vow carved into the air. “Not today.”

Kadaj’s lips curved, a small, bittersweet smile. He didn’t believe he’d survive, he couldn’t, not with the weight of their purpose pressing down, but he believed in them, in their strength, their love. “Then fight with me,” he said, his voice steady now, the fire returning. “Let’s finish this.”

They nodded, their hands still clasped, their resolve hardening. The battle loomed, its shadow creeping closer, but they faced it with a ferocity born of their bond. Kadaj’s words had lit a spark, not of fear but of purpose, they would fight harder, fiercer, because they were all each other had. They released their hands, stepping back, but the connection remained, a thread that no blade could sever.

The plaza around them stirred, the distant sound of engines and footsteps signaling the approach of Cloud and his allies. Kadaj adjusted his Souba, his movements fluid, his eyes blazing with determination. Loz hefted his arms, his stance solid, ready to shield his brothers. Yazoo checked his Velvet Nightmares, his fingers steady, his gaze sharp. They were ready, not just for the fight, but for each other.

They didn’t say goodbye. They didn’t need to. Their love was in their eyes, their hands, their shared breath. They turned toward the battle, three against the world, and fought with a strength that came from knowing they were never alone.

Chapter Text

Learning Peace

The room behind Seventh Heaven was small, tucked away from the bar’s bustle, its walls worn but sturdy, smelling faintly of wood polish and spilled ale. It was a temporary space, a haven Cloud Strife had secured for Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo after pulling them from the ruins of the Forgotten Capital, broken, bleeding, but alive. The remnants, once driven by a burning purpose, now existed in a quiet that felt foreign, their lives a fragile thread stretched between what they’d been and what they might become. The days were soft but tense, each brother grappling with the weight of survival, their bond a lifeline in the unfamiliar calm.

Kadaj was silent, had been for days. He sat by the room’s single window, his knees drawn up, his silver hair a curtain over his face. His mako eyes, once sharp with defiance, were dull, staring at the alley outside where Edge’s life moved on without them. He didn’t speak, didn’t eat much, just existed, a ghost in a body that refused to fade. The Souba was gone, left behind in the ruins, but its shadow lingered in the way his hands twitched, as if searching for something to hold.

Yazoo was a blade, sharp and unyielding. He kept to the corners, his lean frame tense as always since he step his foot into the place. Always be on high alert when anyone who came near them, near Kadaj, Tifa with a tray of food, Barret with a gruff check-in always face with Yazoo’s cold glare, his voice a low warning. “Stay back,” he’d say, his hand hovering near his hip, as if the world was still a battlefield. But with Kadaj, he softened, his sharpness dulled by a care that ran deeper than his instincts. He watched his brother constantly, his eyes tracking every shift, every sigh.

Loz couldn’t stay still. He paced the small room, his heavy boots wearing a path in the floorboards, his broad shoulders brushing the walls. Loz’s hands flexed, restless, as if he needed to break something to feel whole. He’d mutter to himself, half-formed thoughts about the bar, the city, the strange quiet that pressed on them. But his eyes always returned to Kadaj, a silent vow to keep him safe, no matter the cost.

The nights were hardest. The bar’s noise faded as Edge slept, leaving only the creak of the building and the distant hum of the city. Kadaj’s nightmares came like clockwork, his sleep broken by gasps and whimpers, his body curling tight as if to shield himself from unseen blades. The first time it happened, Cloud had been in the bar, helping Tifa close up, but Loz and Yazoo were there, their instincts kicking in before the door could open.

Loz was the first to move, his pacing forgotten. He crossed the room in two strides, his massive frame gentle as he knelt beside Kadaj’s cot. Kadaj thrashed, a choked cry escaping his lips, his hands clawing at the blanket. Loz didn’t hesitate, he scooped Kadaj up, lifting him like a child, his arms a fortress against the dark. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” Loz whispered, his voice rough but soft, rocking Kadaj slowly. His hands, strong enough to shatter stone, held Kadaj with a tenderness that seemed to defy his size, his cheek pressed against Kadaj’s silver hair.

Kadaj’s cries quieted, his body still trembling but calming in Loz’s hold. Yazoo watched from his own cot, his eyes sharp with worry, but he didn’t interfere. He knew Loz’s strength was what Kadaj needed now, solid, unyielding, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Loz kept rocking, his whispers a low murmur, words less important than the warmth of his presence. “You’re safe, little brother. I’m here.”

By morning, Yazoo took his turn. He sat beside Kadaj, who was awake but silent, his eyes red-rimmed from the night. Yazoo held a small comb, its teeth glinting in the dawn light filtering through the window. Without a word, he began brushing Kadaj’s hair, his movements slow and deliberate, smoothing the tangled strands with a care that echoed their nights before the battle. Kadaj didn’t protest, his shoulders relaxing slightly, his gaze still fixed on the alley but softer now, less haunted. Yazoo’s touch was a ritual, a silent promise that they were still here, still together.

Cloud saw it all. He’d come to check on them each day, bringing food, blankets, whatever Tifa could spare. He lingered in the doorway, his blond hair catching the light, his blue eyes taking in the scene—Kadaj’s silence, Yazoo’s sharpness, Loz’s restless pacing. He saw the nightmares, too, waking one night to Kadaj’s cries and finding Loz already there, rocking him, Yazoo watching like a sentinel. Cloud didn’t intrude, but he stayed, leaning against the wall, his presence a quiet support.

He understood, more than he’d expected to. This wasn’t control, not some remnant of Sephiroth’s will. This was devotion, raw, unpolished, a love forged in the chaos of their creation. Loz’s strength, Yazoo’s care, Kadaj’s vulnerability, they were brothers, bound by something deeper than blood, and Cloud felt it resonate with his own past, his own losses. He thought of Aerith, of Zack, of the family he’d pieced together with Tifa and the others. He saw the same in the remnants, and it stirred something in him a resolve to give them a chance, to let them find their own peace.

Kadaj’s nightmares didn’t stop, but they grew less frequent, Loz’s arms and Yazoo’s comb a steady anchor. One morning, Kadaj spoke, his voice hoarse but clear, asking for water. Yazoo fetched it without a word, his glare softening as he handed it over. Loz stopped pacing, his grin breaking through like sunlight, and clapped Kadaj’s shoulder gently. “There you are,” he said, his voice warm with relief.

Cloud watched from the doorway, a tray of bread and soup in his hands. Kadaj’s eyes met his, brief but searching, and Cloud nodded, a small gesture of acknowledgment. Kadaj looked away, sipping the water, but the moment lingered, a quiet thread between them. Cloud set the tray down and left, giving them space, but his thoughts stayed with Kadaj, the boy who’d clung to him in the ruins, the brother who carried his family’s love like a weight and a gift.

The room behind the bar was small, but it held them, three brothers learning peace, one moment at a time. The alley outside buzzed with Edge’s life, but inside, it was quiet, save for the soft stroke of Yazoo’s comb and Loz’s steady whispers. They were healing, together, and that was enough.

Chapter Text

Dinner for Three + one

The house on the outskirts of Edge glowed softly in the evening light, its windows warm against the cool spring dusk. The air carried the faint scent of blooming wildflowers, mingling with the hum of the city in the distance. Inside, the small home that Cloud Strife shared with Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo was alive with the quiet rhythm of their new life. A life built from tentative steps, shared silences, and the unspoken promise to keep going. The brothers, once remnants driven by a destructive purpose, were learning to exist in the gentle cadence of routine, their bond a constant in the shifting world around them.

Cloud was late that night, delayed by a supply run that had stretched into the evening, Fenrir’s engine growling as he pulled up to the house. His jacket was dusted with road grit, his shoulders heavy with the day’s work, but he paused on the porch, catching the warm scent of something cooking, vegetables, herbs, a hint of broth. It wasn’t Tifa’s usual care package, delivered with her knowing smile. This was different, unfamiliar, and it stirred a quiet curiosity in his chest.

He pushed open the door, his boots soft on the wooden floor, and stopped, taking in the scene before him. The kitchen table was set, not with the usual mismatched plates, but with a deliberate care, three bowls, three spoons, a small loaf of bread sliced neatly in the center. The room was lit by a single lamp, its glow casting soft shadows on the walls. Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo were there, their presence filling the space with a warmth that felt almost sacred.

Kadaj sat at the table, his silver hair catching the lamplight, his mako eyes now turn into a soft green eyes half-lidded but brighter than they’d been in those first days behind the bar. He was wrapped in a blanket, his posture relaxed but fragile, like a bird testing its wings. Loz sat beside him, his massive frame hunched slightly, a spoon in his hand as he gently fed Kadaj a sip of soup. The big man was humming a low, tuneless melody, soft and soothing, his eyes fixed on Kadaj with a tenderness that belied his strength. Each motion was careful, deliberate, as if the act of feeding his brother was a vow renewed with every spoonful.

Yazoo stood nearby, leaning against the counter, his lean figure a quiet contrast to Loz’s bulk. He was folding napkins, simple squares of cloth, but he handled them with a precision that bordered on artistry, each fold crisp and exact. His silver hair was tied back, his expression focused but soft, his green eyes flicking to Kadaj now and then, ensuring his brother was comfortable. The soup was his doing, Cloud realized, noting the careful arrangement of herbs on the counter, the pot still steaming on the stove.

The brothers didn’t notice Cloud at first, their world narrowed to the table, the soup, the quiet hum of Loz’s tune. It was a moment so complete, so self-contained, that Cloud felt like an intruder, his breath catching at the intimacy of it. He stood in the doorway, his pack still slung over his shoulder, and watched, his blue eyes tracing the scene the spoon in Loz’s hand, the napkins in Yazoo’s, the faint smile on Kadaj’s lips.

Kadaj’s gaze lifted, catching Cloud’s, and his smile widened, a rare, genuine grin that lit his face. “I’m taken care of,” he said, his voice soft but clear, a teasing lilt beneath the warmth. He leaned back slightly, letting Loz guide another spoonful to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Cloud’s.

Loz paused his humming, glancing at Cloud with a nod, his grin lopsided but welcoming. “Made dinner,” he said, gesturing to the table, pride evident in his voice. “Yazoo’s idea. I helped.”

Yazoo didn’t look up, his fingers finishing the last napkin fold. “You stirred,” he said dryly, setting the napkin beside Kadaj’s bowl. “Barely.” But there was no bite in his words, just the quiet camaraderie that came from years of knowing each other’s edges.

Cloud set his pack down, his movements slow, as if afraid to break the moment. “Smells good,” he said, his voice low, steady, but there was something softer in it, an acknowledgment of what he was witnessing. He crossed to the counter, grabbing a bowl for himself, but he didn’t sit, choosing instead to lean against the wall, giving the brothers their space.

The meal continued, the brothers’ focus returning to each other. Loz resumed his humming, feeding Kadaj with a patience that seemed endless, while Yazoo sat at the table, his own bowl untouched as he watched Kadaj eat. Kadaj took each spoonful, his movements slow but steady, his grin fading into a quiet contentment. The room was filled with small sounds, the clink of the spoon, the rustle of Yazoo’s napkin, the soft crackle of the fire in the corner. It was ordinary, almost painfully so, but to Cloud, it was extraordinary.

He’d never seen such a quiet, perfect love. It wasn’t romantic, not like the warmth he felt when Kadaj’s eyes met his, or the ache in his chest when they slept close. This was different, blood-deep, bond-deep, a forever kind of love that had survived battles, ruins, and the weight of their creation. Loz’s humming, Yazoo’s soft smile, Kadaj’s grin, they were acts of devotion, each one a thread in the tapestry of their brotherhood. Cloud understood it, saw it in the way Loz’s hand steadied Kadaj’s bowl, in the way Yazoo’s eyes softened when Kadaj coughed lightly, in the way Kadaj leaned into their care without hesitation.

Cloud ate his soup standing, the warmth of it grounding him, but his eyes stayed on the brothers. He thought of Kadaj’s nightmares, of Loz’s arms rocking him, of Yazoo’s soft voice only for Kadaj. He thought of their hands clasped before the battle, their foreheads pressed together under the moon. This was who they were not remnants, not monsters, but brothers who loved each other with a fierceness that no blade could cut.

Kadaj finished his soup, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Better than yours, Cloud,” he teased, his grin returning, a spark of his old fire. Loz laughed, a booming sound that filled the room, and Yazoo rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched, a smile he couldn’t quite hide.

Cloud’s mouth curved, a rare smile of his own. “We’ll see about that,” he said, setting his bowl down. He moved to clear the table, but Yazoo waved him off, already gathering the dishes with his usual precision. Loz ruffled Kadaj’s hair, earning a playful swat, and the room settled into a comfortable quiet, the brothers’ bond a steady pulse beneath it all.

Cloud lingered, watching as Kadaj yawned, his blanket slipping slightly. He felt the now, familiar pull toward Kadaj, the quiet promise of their shared nights, but tonight, he saw something else, a family, whole and unbroken, caring for each other in ways he was still learning to understand. He stepped outside to the porch, the cool air a contrast to the warmth inside, and looked at the stars, his heart full of a quiet awe.

The house glowed behind him, holding the brothers’ love, and Cloud knew he was part of it now, a witness to something eternal.

Chapter Text

Little Brother’s First Cold

The house on the outskirts of Edge stood quiet under a gray spring sky, the air cool and damp from a recent rain. Inside, the small home that Cloud Strife shared with Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo hummed with the gentle rhythm of their shared life mornings of coffee, afternoons of small tasks, evenings of quiet moments that felt like family. The brothers, once remnants bound by a destructive purpose, were finding their place in this new world, their bond a steady anchor through the uncertainties of peace. But even in their fragile calm, a sneeze could unsettle the balance, and Kadaj’s stubbornness was its own kind of storm.

Kadaj woke that morning with a stuffy nose and a dull ache in his throat, his body heavier than usual. He tried to hide it, as he always did with weakness, pulling on a loose sweater and Cloud’s gray scarf, the knit still a comforting weight around his neck. He moved through the kitchen, wiping down the counter with a cloth, his movements deliberate but slower, his green eyes shadowed by fatigue. He coughed once, muffling it in his sleeve, and glanced around, hoping no one noticed. But Yazoo’s sharp gaze was already on him, his lean figure pausing in the doorway, a cup of tea in his hand.

“You’re sick,” Yazoo said, his voice calm but unyielding, his silver hair catching the morning light. He set the tea down and crossed to Kadaj, his eyes narrowing as he studied his brother’s face. “Your cheeks are flushed. Lie down.”

Kadaj scoffed, turning away to scrub the counter harder. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice thick with congestion. “It’s just dust or something.”

Yazoo’s hand was on his shoulder before he could protest, firm but gentle, guiding him toward the living room. “Don’t argue,” Yazoo said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

Kadaj grumbled, dragging his feet, but he let Yazoo steer him to the couch, where a worn blanket was draped over the armrest. He sank onto it, crossing his arms, his scarf slipping slightly as he glared up at Yazoo. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he said, but a sneeze betrayed him, loud and unmistakable.

Loz, who’d been polishing his boots in the corner, snapped to attention, his broad frame filling the room as he stood. “Sick?” he said, his voice laced with panic. “Kadaj’s sick?” He dropped the boot, his eyes wide, and rushed to the closet, pulling out blankets six of them, a chaotic pile of wool and fleece that threatened to bury the couch. “You need to stay warm,” he said, draping the first one over Kadaj, then the second, his hands clumsy with urgency.

Kadaj squirmed under the weight, his voice muffled. “Loz, I can’t breathe under all this!”

“Better than freezing,” Loz said, adding a third blanket, his brow furrowed with worry. He turned to the kitchen, his boots thumping on the floor. “Soup! You need soup!” He grabbed a pot and a ladle, rummaging through the pantry for ingredients, his movements frantic but determined.

Yazoo rolled his eyes, but his focus stayed on Kadaj, kneeling beside the couch to press a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up,” he said, his voice soft but edged with concern. He stood, fetching a damp cloth from the sink and placing it on Kadaj’s brow, ignoring his brother’s weak swat. “Stay still.”

Kadaj groaned, sinking deeper into the couch, the blankets and cloth making him look smaller, more vulnerable. “You’re both smothering me,” he grumbled, his eyes half lidded but glinting with exasperation. “I’m not dying.”

Yazoo’s gaze sharpened, his hand pausing on the cloth. “We lost you once,” he said, his voice low, steady, but heavy with the weight of memory. “We’re not doing it again.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unyielding, a reminder of the ruins, the battle, the moment they’d thought Kadaj was gone forever. Kadaj’s grumbling stopped, his eyes widening, then softening. He looked at Yazoo, then at Loz, who was struggling with a can of broth in the kitchen, and his defiance crumbled. “Fine,” he muttered, pulling the blankets tighter, his voice barely audible. “Fuss if you want.”

Loz returned, holding a ladle of soup that looked more like a stew, thick with mismatched vegetables and a questionable amount of salt. “Open up,” he said, sitting on the edge of the couch, the ladle hovering near Kadaj’s mouth like a weapon. Kadaj stared at it, then at Loz’s earnest face, and sighed, taking a tentative sip. It was too hot, too salty, but he swallowed, wincing slightly.

“Needs work,” Kadaj said, his tone teasing but soft, and Loz’s grin was bright enough to light the room.

Yazoo snorted, adjusting the cloth on Kadaj’s forehead. “Don’t encourage him,” he said, but his lips twitched, a rare smile breaking through his calm facade. He settled beside Kadaj, pulling a book from the table, a collection of old myths, and began reading aloud, his voice a soothing cadence that filled the room.

Cloud was out, but the brothers’ care filled the house with a warmth that didn’t need his presence. Loz fed Kadaj another spoonful, humming a tune that was more enthusiasm than melody, while Yazoo’s reading paused only to check Kadaj’s temperature, his fingers light but precise. Kadaj let them fuss, his grumbling replaced by a quiet acceptance, his eyes drifting closed as the warmth of the blankets and their care lulled him.

When Cloud returned that afternoon, the house was quiet, the fire crackling low in the corner. He stepped inside, a bag of supplies in hand, and paused, his blue eyes taking in the scene. Kadaj was asleep on the couch, bundled in blankets, his silver hair damp with sweat, the scarf still around his neck. Loz sat beside him, a ladle in one hand, a bowl of questionable soup in the other, his head nodding as he dozed. Yazoo was slumped against the couch, the book open in his lap, his hand resting on Kadaj’s arm, a silent guard even in sleep.

Cloud set the bag down softly, his lips curving into a faint smile. He saw the love in their actions the blankets, the soup, the book a devotion that ran deeper than words. He thought of Kadaj’s grin at the dinner table, of Loz’s arms rocking him through nightmares, of Yazoo’s comb smoothing his hair. This was their family, forged in fire and ruin, and Cloud felt a quiet pull toward Kadaj, a warmth that was both familiar and new.

He grabbed a spare blanket, draping it over Loz and Yazoo, careful not to wake them. Kadaj stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and met Cloud’s gaze. “They’re impossible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but fond, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Cloud knelt beside him, brushing a damp strand of hair from Kadaj’s face. “They love you,” he said, his voice low, steady, a promise in itself. “Rest.”

Kadaj nodded, his eyes closing again, and Cloud stayed, watching over the brothers who’d become his home.

Chapter Text

We Still Follow You

The house on the outskirts of Edge stood bathed in the soft glow of a summer evening, the air warm and heavy with the scent of blooming night flowers. Crickets chirped in the distance, their song mingling with the faint hum of Edge’s lights on the horizon. Inside, the home that Cloud shared with Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo was quiet, the day’s small tasks done, the plates from dinner stacked neatly in the sink. The brothers, once remnants driven by a singular purpose, had woven their lives into this fragile peace, their bond a steady pulse beneath the rhythm of their new existence. But even in the calm, doubts could surface, and Kadaj’s heart carried shadows that the summer light couldn’t fully banish.

Kadaj stood on the porch, leaning against the railing, his silver hair catching the moonlight like a faint halo. His green eyes were fixed on the stars, distant and unreadable, his hands gripping the wood as if to anchor himself. The gray scarf Cloud had given him months ago hung loosely around his neck, a soft contrast to the tension in his posture. He’d been quieter lately, not withdrawn but pensive, as if wrestling with thoughts he couldn’t voice. Loz and Yazoo noticed, their gazes lingering on him during meals, their steps softer when he was near.

Loz was the first to join him, his heavy boots thudding on the porch boards, his broad frame filling the space. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes on Kadaj but his expression guarded, as if waiting for his brother to speak. Yazoo followed, his movements silent, his lean figure settling on the steps, a small knife in his hand as he whittled a piece of wood a habit he’d picked up to keep his hands busy. The three of them were together, as they always were, but the air was heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Kadaj broke the silence, his voice soft but steady, cutting through the night’s hum. “You don’t have to stay with me anymore,” he said, his eyes still on the stars, avoiding his brothers’ gazes. “You’re free now. You don’t… owe me anything.”

The words landed like a stone in still water, rippling through the quiet. Loz’s arms dropped, his fists clenching, and he stepped forward, his voice a low growl. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, his hand slamming against the wall, the wood creaking under the force. “You think we’re here because we have to be? You think that’s what this is?”

Kadaj flinched, his shoulders hunching, but he didn’t turn. Yazoo’s green eyes lifting to Kadaj, sharp and piercing, a storm brewing beneath his calm. “You’re not our mission,” he said, his voice low, steady, but laced with a rare intensity. “You’re our brother.”

Kadaj’s grip on the railing tightened, his knuckles whitening. He turned, finally, his eyes meeting theirs, shimmering with doubt and something deeper fear, raw and unguarded. “Even now?” he asked, his voice breaking, barely above a whisper. “Even… after we lost everything?”

Loz’s growl softened, his hand falling from the wall, his eyes wide with a mix of anger and pain. Yazoo stepped closer, standing beside Loz, their presence a united front, a shield against Kadaj’s words. Yazoo’s gaze locked onto Kadaj’s, unyielding, and he spoke, his voice clear, cutting through the night. “We didn’t lose you. That’s everything.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with truth, a vow that echoed their clasped hands before the battle, their foreheads pressed together under the moon. Kadaj’s breath hitched, his eyes glistening, and he took a step forward, then stopped, as if afraid to bridge the distance. “I led you into ruin,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I was supposed to… finish it. For us. And I failed.”

Loz crossed the porch in a single stride, his hands finding Kadaj’s shoulders, gripping them gently but firmly. “You didn’t fail us,” he said, his voice rough but warm, his eyes burning with conviction. “You fought for us. You always did. And we’re here, Kadaj. Right here.”

Yazoo moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Kadaj’s arm, his touch a quiet contrast to Loz’s strength. “We followed you because we wanted to,” he said, his tone soft but unyielding. “Not because of him. Not because of some mission. Because of you.”

Kadaj’s lips trembled, his defenses crumbling under the weight of their words. He looked between them, Loz, solid and fierce, his hands a steady anchor and Yazoo, sharp and tender, his eyes a mirror of his own. They were his brothers, his everything, the only light in the chaos of their creation. He reached out, his hands finding theirs, a mirror of that night in the ruins, and held on, his fingers trembling but sure.

They stood there, hands clasped, the porch a small haven in the vast night. The stars watched, silent witnesses to their love, a bond that had survived battles, loss, and the weight of their past. Kadaj’s tears fell, quiet and unashamed, and Loz pulled him close, his arms enveloping both brothers in a fierce hug. Yazoo leaned in, his forehead brushing Kadaj’s, their silver hair mingling in the moonlight.

Cloud stepped onto the porch, his boots soft on the wood, a bag of supplies from Seventh Heaven slung over his shoulder. He’d returned from helping Tifa, expecting a quiet evening, but paused, taking in the scene. The brothers’ embrace, Kadaj’s tears, the raw love that filled the air. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, his blue eyes soft with understanding. He saw the depth of their bond, not as remnants but as brothers, and it stirred something in him, a quiet respect, a warmth for Kadaj that grew with each moment he witnessed.

Kadaj noticed Cloud, his eyes flicking to him, red rimmed but steady. He didn’t pull away from his brothers, but his lips curved, a small, fragile smile. “They’re stubborn,” he said, his voice hoarse but fond, a teasing spark beneath the tears.

Cloud’s mouth twitched, a faint smile of his own. “Good,” he said, his voice low, steady, a quiet promise of his own. He set the bag down and leaned against the railing, giving them space but staying close, his presence a silent support.

Loz loosened his hold, ruffling Kadaj’s hair with a grin, earning a weak swat. Yazoo stepped back, but his eyes stayed on Kadaj, soft with relief. The porch settled into a comfortable quiet, the brothers’ bond a steady hum beneath the night’s sounds. Kadaj wiped his eyes, his scarf slipping slightly, and leaned against Loz, his body relaxed for the first time in days.

The house waited, its windows glowing, holding their family three brothers who’d chosen each other, and a man who was learning to be part of it. They were still here, together, and that was everything.

Chapter Text

The Graveyard

The Forgotten City lay silent under a pale autumn sky, its ancient ruins cloaked in mist, the air heavy with the scent of moss and memory. The crystalline trees shimmered faintly, their light dimmed by time, and the still waters of the lake reflected the broken spires like a mirror of the past. Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo stood at the edge of the ruins, their silver hair catching the soft light, their presence a quiet contrast to the chaos that had once defined this place. The brothers, once remnants bound by Sephiroth’s will, had come here to face their ghosts, not to fight, but to let them go.

The journey had been Kadaj’s idea, voiced one quiet evening in the house on the outskirts of Edge. He’d spoken softly, his green eyes distant, his gray scarf a soft weight around his neck. “We need to see it,” he’d said, and Loz and Yazoo had nodded, their agreement unspoken but absolute. Cloud had offered to come, his blue eyes steady with understanding, but Kadaj had shaken his head. “Just us,” he’d murmured, and Cloud had stayed behind, his hand brushing Kadaj’s briefly, a silent promise to wait.

Now, in the heart of the Forgotten City, Kadaj stood still, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. His hands hung at his sides, fingers twitching as if reaching for the Souba that was no longer there. The lake stretched before him, its surface unbroken, but he saw it as it had been rippling with rain, stained with blood, the place where he’d fallen, where he’d thought it all ended. His breath hitched, and he sank to his knees, the earth cool against his palms. “This is where I ended,” he whispered, his voice raw, barely audible over the soft hum of the ruins.

Loz and Yazoo were at his side in an instant, their movements swift but gentle. Yazoo knelt gracefully, his lean frame a quiet shadow, his silver hair falling over his shoulder as he rested a hand on Kadaj’s back. “No,” he said, his voice low, steady, cutting through the weight of Kadaj’s words. “This is where we started over.”

Loz dropped to one knee beside Kadaj, his massive frame grounding, his hand finding Kadaj’s shoulder with a care that belied his strength. “Let’s leave our shadows here,” he said, his voice rough but warm, his green eyes fierce with conviction. “And walk home in the light.”

Kadaj’s head lifted, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, meeting Yazoo’s, then Loz’s. He saw their love, their resolve, the brothers who’d carried him through battles and nightmares, who’d stayed when everything else had crumbled. The Forgotten City was a graveyard, yes of their past, their pain, the will that had shaped them, but it was also a birthplace, the moment Cloud had pulled them from death’s grasp, giving them a chance to be more than remnants.

Yazoo reached into his coat, pulling out a single black feather, its edges frayed but unmistakable, a relic of Sephiroth’s presence, a symbol of the will that had bound them. He held it between his fingers, his gaze steady, and Kadaj’s breath caught, understanding dawning. Loz nodded, his hand tightening briefly on Kadaj’s shoulder, and they stood together, moving toward the lake’s edge.

Kadaj took the feather from Yazoo, his fingers trembling but sure. “This isn’t us anymore,” he said, his voice soft but firm, a vow to himself as much as to his brothers. He held it over the water, the feather stark against the pale light, and Loz produced a small flint, striking it to spark a flame. The feather caught fire, its edges curling, the black turning to ash as it burned. Kadaj released it, and the ashes fell, scattering across the lake’s surface, carried away by the gentle ripples.

They watched in silence, the flame’s glow fading, the mist swallowing the last traces of the feather. It was their goodbye, not to each other, but to the will that had defined them, the shadow that had lingered too long. The Forgotten City was still, its ancient hum a witness to their closure, their choice to walk away from the past.

Kadaj’s tears fell, quiet and unashamed, and he leaned into Loz, his body small against his brother’s strength. Loz wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, his other hand resting on Yazoo’s shoulder, drawing him in. Yazoo’s touch was lighter, his fingers brushing Kadaj’s hair, a familiar gesture of care, his eyes soft with relief. They stood together, three against the ruins, their bond a light that no shadow could dim.

“We’re free,” Kadaj whispered, his voice steady now, the weight of the city lifting from his chest. “We’re us.”

Yazoo’s lips curved, a rare, genuine smile. “Always were,” he said, his hand lingering on Kadaj’s hair, smoothing a strand with quiet tenderness.

Loz’s grin broke through, wide and warm. “Let’s go home,” he said, his arm still around Kadaj, his voice filled with a joy that echoed in the mist. “Cloud’s probably pacing by now.”

Kadaj laughed, a small, bright sound that cut through the stillness, and the brothers turned, their steps light as they left the lake behind. The Forgotten City faded into the mist, its ruins a memory rather than a chain, and they walked together, their shadows left behind, their path lit by the promise of tomorrow.

Cloud was waiting when they returned, leaning against Fenrir outside the house, his blond hair catching the evening light. He straightened as they approached, his blue eyes searching Kadaj’s face, finding the peace there, the tear streaked but steady gaze. Kadaj stepped forward, his scarf swaying, and Cloud’s hand found his, a brief, grounding touch that spoke of their quiet bond.

“You okay?” Cloud asked, his voice low, meant only for Kadaj.

Kadaj nodded, his smile soft, his brothers at his back. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm with certainty. “We are.”

Loz clapped Cloud’s shoulder, his grin undimmed, while Yazoo offered a nod, his expression calm but open, a rare acknowledgment. They moved into the house, the warmth of the kitchen welcoming them, the scent of bread Tifa had sent over lingering in the air. Kadaj stayed close to Cloud, their hands brushing as they stepped inside, a silent promise of their growing love.

The brothers sat together, sharing bread and stories, their laughter a new light in the house. The Forgotten City was behind them, its shadows burned away, and they were here Kadaj, Loz, Yazoo, and Cloud building a life, one moment at a time.