Chapter Text
Today, every train station in Midgar was crowded with anxious citizens. Each of them held their breaths, pressing their hands to their chest as they silently prayed. Tifa Lockhart happened to be among those people, particularly those who brought gifts with them. In her hands was a bouquet of yellow daisies, recommended by her pen pal whom she had known since high school.
Tifa didn’t wait here within the crowds of people alone. Beside her was Claudia Strife, a mother who desperately bit her nails at every incoming train. The train tracks exhaled a gust of smoke, causing Claudia to gasp. Another train stopped. Tens of men and women exited the railcars, and floods of people raced to reunite with their loved ones. Of course, some people were left empty-handed, only assuming the worst. Claudia experienced the same turmoil once again when her rapid eyes failed to catch even a single glimpse of her son. Tifa’s gaze narrowed when the train departed. Noticing that Claudia bore the same expression, Tifa reached over to pet her back.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Strife. I’m sure he’ll come,” she consoled, forcing a melancholic smile.
“But that was the sixth train so far,” Claudia whispered, her eyes turning watery. “What if he didn’t make it? He was so excited to be a soldier, but...oh god...I can’t lose another one.” The mother lowered her head, clenching her chest harder this time.
Tifa found herself at a loss for words. What else could she say besides repeating herself? She shared the same worries as Claudia, but she tried to keep her composure.
He will make it, she thought, although she may end up like Claudia in a moment.
The length of the wait endured to the point of being agonizing. It took an additional forty minutes for the next train to arrive. This time Tifa followed in Claudia’s footsteps, closing her eyes, and praying to herself with the earthy scent of the daisies breathing along with her. It became a routine for everyone here involved, listening for the conductor’s affirmation and the doors opening in a whoosh.
As more soldiers stepped out of the train, Tifa struggled to open her eyes. The mere concept of it brought forth an instinctive response for her to never open them again. But alas, she broke through. And she was so glad she did.
Her surroundings blurred together as if nothing else was more important than the man who moseyed out of the railcar. She recognized that spiky blond hair anywhere. The sound of Claudia squealing with glee reassured her that her eyesight wasn’t playing a cruel trick on her.
Her Cloud Strife finally made it home.
“Cloud! Tifa’s here!” Cloud heard his mother yell for him.
“Just bring her here!” he replied, neatly folding his final pair of jeans then zipping his black suitcase. He moved on to his stash of DVDs which mostly consisted of historical documentaries, especially concerning the first Wutai War. A brief silence filled the room until a quiet creak from his bedroom door interrupted it.
“Heya. You wanted to see me?” Tifa timidly entered the room despite occupying it many times beforehand. Half of his bedroom was already tucked away into another suitcase. Suddenly, the semi-barrenness of it all struck a chord inside of her.
"Yeah. I want to talk to you about something,” Cloud replied, finally stopping to look up at her.
“You don’t need any help packing?” Before Cloud could answer, the teen girl already strolled over to one of his closet drawers. She pulled out a dusty action figure who wore the uniform of a typical Midgaran soldier—a black patrol cap, a camo jacket and pants, and black combat boots. “You wanna pack this?” Tifa teased, lightly giggling.
Cloud blushed and turned his head away with a scoff, “I don’t play with those anymore!”
“But you still collect them?” she asked, peeking further into the abandoned drawer that appeared to have more action figures since the previous time she went through it.
" Maybe,” he muttered, then he quickly changed the subject. “Do you wanna stay for dinner too?”
“Sure,” Tifa smiled. She closed the drawer but not before sneakily tucking the action figure into her dress pocket. She sat on Cloud’s bed, patiently swinging her legs back and forth.
Cloud cleared his throat. It was now or never to address the issue. He headed over to his nightstand and picked up a folded piece of paper which laid atop an open brown envelope with Midgar’s official seal.
“The draft letter says that I should leave by tomorrow afternoon,” he said. Tifa paused, the weight of the close timeframe instantly hitting her harder.
“Yeah. All the guys are leaving,” she confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper.
It pained Cloud to see Tifa so withdrawn like this. She wasn’t too enthusiastic as he was when he revealed to her that the army drafted him into service. Her response replicated her current state—proud but conflicted.
“But I’m not like them,” Cloud dismissed, more light erupted in his voice as he listed his capabilities as a soldier. “I’ve worked so hard to prove that I’m exceptional, and they finally noticed. Now’s my chance to show what I can do!” He clenched his fists together, gazing at the ceiling with a confident grin. One of the rare moments where Cloud actually smiled, and it made Tifa smile as well, albeit sadly.
“I’m gonna be a soldier. And not just any soldier, but one of the best. Like Sephiroth!” Cloud sharply glanced at the wall that was coated with a bunch of war propaganda. In the center of them plastered an image of Sephiroth, fearlessly leading all the other soldiers behind him into a battle of victory. His long silver hair blew with the Midgaran flag beside him as if it were a comrade itself, and he raised his fist in the air with a shouting warcry.
“The great war hero, huh? Do you think you'll be all over the news like him?”
“I’ll try,” he assured, still staring at the poster with wide, auspicious eyes.
“But the last Wutai War lasted for about six years, right?”
Cloud returned to his standard frown. “Yep. So, I might be gone for a long time.”
The whole idea of waiting for Cloud to return home for possibly years, with the hypothetical situation of him not returning home at all honestly frightened Tifa. This opportunity to fight for the country meant so much to him, she understood that, but she wished he were more cautious about the whole ordeal. Behind his bed stationed a window with navy-blue curtains. The brink of twilight fell over the neighborhood, the blue starry sky with its orange specks inspiring her as it would for a naturalist.
Standing up, Tifa grabbed Cloud’s hands and clasped them into hers. As his eyes widened by the abrupt action, Tifa sheepishly lowered her head to the floor.
“Cloud, I-” She slowly raised her head to look at his face, only to find him confused. Flustered, she shook her head to retract her sentence. “Um, I know that many people here aren’t really...fond of you,” she began, thinking over all the fights that the boy faced with many students at their school. “And I know that you’re ready to show your dedication and prove them wrong, but…can you make me a promise?”
“Hm?” Cloud insinuated for her to continue, somewhat nervous about her next words.
“Will you promise that you won’t forget where you came from? That when we’re older, and you become a famous soldier...promise you’ll remember where your roots are? That things won’t change between us?”
Will you promise not to forget me?
“That’s silly, Tifa,” Cloud bluntly blurted. “Why would you ever think that things would change?”
"Please? Just promise me?” Tifa whined. Her ruby eyes were glossy. Hating to see his friend upset, Cloud complied.
“Fine. I promise,” he sighed.
Tifa heartily smiled, and the room darkened as the sunset descended further into the sky. Without thinking, she kissed him on the cheek. Cloud recoiled with a surprised gasp, rubbing the space where her lips touched him. Realizing what she had done, Tifa’s face burned, and she hid it in her hands.
“Oh my god! I’m sorry, Cloud! I don’t know what I was doing!” she sputtered, scurrying away to a far corner of the room, hateful words surfing in her mind.
Cloud turned his head away to conceal his spreading blush. Perhaps, Tifa believed that his reaction came off as a disgusted one. Secretly, he thought it was cute, but of course, his cool-headed self wouldn’t allow her to assume that.
“No, it’s okay,” Cloud managed to say, his blush finally disappearing.
Composing herself as well, Tifa heaved a sigh and ruffled her dress that started to wrinkle. Although her face was still painted red, Tifa approached him again. “Just...remember the promise, ok?”
When he nodded, Tifa took the figure out of her pocket and handed it to Cloud.
“Tifa I said-” he was about to protest, but she playfully shushed him.
“C’mon! Consider it as a souvenir from back home,” she insisted.
Concluding how stubborn Tifa could be sometimes, Cloud accepted his defeat with a grumpy sigh. After the boy stuffed the figure into the deepest part of one of his suitcases, the two friends resumed their packing adventure until dinner was ready. He just had to remember to place the toy into a more ‘comfortable’ pocket once the girl left.
Five years later and here her friend stood, his hands gripping his two suitcases and his gaze locked to the ground. Bizarre how much he had grown in her eyes.
In contrast to his hair that failed to change, the first thing that Tifa noticed about him was how tall he had gotten. He reached at least above six inches. Even though they hadn’t seen each other in years, Tifa contemplated over the origins of his growth spurt. A white scarf shielded the lower half of his face. He wore a long, navy-blue coat and dark jeans with black winter boots. Despite the heavy layers, the cold still nipped at his skin as the color of his narrow cheeks glowed a rosy pink.
What caught Tifa off guard the most was his eyes. They have always been a royal blue, but somehow it appeared deeper. So hazy and stoic that she could have drowned in them. It was like it lost something, but what, she wasn’t sure.
“Cloud!” Claudia burst into tears and ran over to her son who didn’t even have time to register what faced him. The ecstatic mother practically jumped into him with her runny face diving into his chest. The startled soldier tensed his shoulders. “Thank god, you made it! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t—my dear Cloud I—Cloud!” she tripped over her words, suddenly forgetting how to form a coherent sentence.
Cloud’s eyes widened as he peered down at his mother, but he quickly fell into a stone-face.
“Hey Mom,” he deadpanned. Tifa’s lips tightened once she heard how deeper his voice had gotten too. More gruff and raspy.
Cloud allowed his mother to continue squeezing and shaking him, not even making the effort to return the hug. Due to her being so overwhelmed, Claudia didn’t mind too much. When she finally released her son, Cloud’s eyes finally met Tifa’s. The scarf concealed his mouth, so his expression was almost unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he was happy to see her—whether if he smiled or frowned. All she could decipher was his eyes. The blues brightened a little bit.
Tifa walked towards him, clenching the bouquet even tighter. She gently smiled and handed him the flowers, “Welcome home Cloud.”
“Today is a good day for Midgar. Our soldiers have returned safe and sound to their families and loved ones. To honor their service, we must show our gratitude and devotion to—”
“Cloud!” Cloud’s head shot towards the direction of his mother, breaking his attention from the television. She applied butter to her loaf of bread before continuing, “I was asking if you liked your food.”
Cloud’s glare returned to his plate where he only took two bites of his roasted chicken and zero on his rice and bread.
“It’s good,” he shrugged, finally taking a bite of the rice mixed with vegetables to solidify his statement. Admittedly, it sparked a pleasant tingle in his mouth.
“Tifa made the rice. It’s great, isn’t it?” Claudia grinned in Tifa’s direction, the young woman giving a bashful chuckle. Cloud hummed in response and proceeded to pick at his food with his fork.
Is he bored? Tifa thought, off-put by his aloof behavior.
A nice dinner waited for Cloud when he returned home, cooked by the two women themselves. Once the table was set and served, Tifa and Claudia conversed as normal after they prayed. But the soldier barely made any contributions to the discussions. Whenever Claudia asked her son about his time in the war, Cloud would stiffen and give vague answers. He seemed completely uninterested, so his mother eventually dropped the topic.
Every news channel spoke about Midgar’s victory against their second war with Wutai. The two countries often engaged in bitter conflicts for the sake of being territorial towards certain natural resources. Due to Midgar’s advantages in terms of supplies, soldiers, and a unified nationalistic attitude, it was only natural for Midgar to succeed yet again. Although Cloud refused to elaborate on his experience in the war, most of his focus lied on the television screen. He held onto every word that the news reporter gave, and Tifa could’ve sworn that his body shook a little.
Speaking of his body, Tifa observed the state of it more clearly thanks to the withdrawal of his coat. She had to admit; he definitely took good care of it over the years. As to be expected from a soldier. He kept his skinny figure, but his arm muscles were more defined since the last time she saw him. She had to hide a blush when he took off his coat when they arrived at his house before dinner.
“Well you know how great of a cook Tifa is. That’s why her bar is a popular hotspot in town,” Claudia said.
“Huh? You managed to open Seventh Heaven?” Cloud asked, truly curious now. For as long as he could remember, it was practically Tifa’s dream to open a bar just as it was his dream to join the army. She constantly talked about it. Claudia smirked to herself, knowing that this was a way to get some sort of a response out of her son.
“Yeah. I opened it last year,” Tifa confirmed. She playfully glared at him and placed her hands on her hips. “What? You thought I wouldn’t be able to do it?”
“No, I just…wasn’t it a little difficult?”
“I had to raise a lot of money by working a few jobs here and there, but some people here were kind enough to give me some support. Like your mother, who I’m still very grateful for.”
Claudia nodded, pausing a little to swallow her food. “We’ve known each other for how long, dear? Of course I helped you!” The widow always considered Tifa as a daughter, so she didn’t hesitate to assist her.
“That’s good to hear,” Cloud said. Tifa looked at him in surprise, taken away by the kind words. Although it wasn’t much, it still comforted her.
“It really is great,” Tifa agreed, shyly smiling.
“You should take Cloud to Seventh Heaven tomorrow. I’m sure he’d love to see what you’ve done with the place,” Claudia suggested, looking at Cloud expectedly.
“Hm…” Cloud poked at his food again, growing slightly irritable that his mother would mention that so quickly.
“Is that okay? I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Tifa asked. Cloud had just returned from the army, so he must have been exhausted after all. Maybe that was why he looked so glum. After years of countless fighting, it was only reasonable that he probably desired some time to himself. Tifa didn’t want to steal too much of his energy away. When Cloud stayed unresponsive, Tifa accepted that as her conclusion. The dinner table fell into another awkward silence with nothing but the sounds of clanking utensils and the following news report to accompany it.
“Now, we take this moment of silence to mourn one of our best soldiers known in Midgar’s history. It has been confirmed by our military forces that Sephiroth has indeed passed away in battle,” the news reporter’s words echoed throughout the room, immediately catching their attention.
“What?!” Tifa gasped while Claudia cupped her mouth in shock. Various photographs and artwork of Sephiroth littered the screen, the news broadcast even providing footage of him earning the Medal of Honor after the first Wutai War. He was Midgar’s symbol of hope, and to hear the news that he perished in the war possibly brought a wave of devastation for everyone in the country.
“That’s terrible. I remember how much you used to look up to him, Cloud,” Claudia muttered. “I’m so sorry.”
But Cloud didn’t reply. His eyes were glued to the screen, completely enlarged. His ears buzzed as he watched the video of Sephiroth bowing his head as President Shinra wrapped the medal around his neck.
Did he wish it were a noose? So that his neck turned purple as spit furiously sprinkled out of his mouth?
He started to shake, harshly scraping his fork along the bottom of the plate. The room around him darkened as Sephiroth opened his eyes and glanced at the audience. At the watchers at home.
At him.
Tifa jumped at the brutal screech that came from her right. When she turned to face it, Cloud roughly pushed himself out of his chair.
“I’m done eating,” Cloud claimed, rushing to the kitchen to wash his hands.
Claudia tilted her head, “So soon? You barely touched your food.”
“I lost my appetite,” he grumbled. His hands toppled over the other as he scrubbed them together, his vision becoming as fuzzy as the soap in his hands. Tifa and Claudia gave him pitying stares. They both understood that the death of your idol could be hard to digest.
“I’m going to my room.” The aggravated tone in his voice almost made Claudia laugh, based on the many times it made him sound like an angsty teenager. Considering he kind of was one in the past.
“Your room is empty besides your bed, silly. Tifa, why don’t you help Cloud unpack his things? I’ll clean everything up.”
“You’re sure you don’t need any help?” Tifa asked, standing up alongside her.
“No worries. It’s not even that much. You two just go on ahead,” Claudia waved off, picking up their plates.
Tifa nodded and followed Cloud in retrieving his suitcases. Passing through a short hallway, the soldier sluggishly twisted the knob of his bedroom door and trudged himself through the door frame. For a moment, he silently stood there, taken aback by how barren it looked. A sudden heaviness sank in his chest like he couldn’t even comprehend that he used to live here. The same bed with a freshly laundered black blanket and grey sheets. The same wooden faded end tables. The same window with its navy-blue curtains. Waiting for his return.
The two spent the next hour unpacking his belongings. Tifa seemed to have a knack for remembering exactly where everything was, surprising even Cloud for how it slipped his memory. In one of the suitcases’ compartments, Tifa pulled out the action figure that she forced Cloud to take with him.
“You still have this?” she asked, both glad and amused.
“I mean, what else was I gonna do with it?” Cloud huffed.
“C’mon, I think it’s cute that you still kept it,” Tifa laughed before realizing what she said. She shook her head with a tiny blush.
When they finally replicated Cloud’s entire military fantasy, Tifa added a finishing touch of her own. She placed a blue vase atop one of Cloud’s end tables with the yellow daisies inside. Next to it stood the action figure.
“There,” she sighed, taking a step back to admire their handiwork. “Whaddya think?”
Cloud only shrugged, “Yep, it’s all the same.”
The window revealed the sky, twilight swimming over it. It did so every night, but Tifa still found it breathtaking. Its beauty somehow always encouraged her to act in a way that she may have been hesitant about before. She almost laughed at how eerily familiar everything felt. Her standing here with her childhood friend who stared at her blankly.
“I’ve decided to go to Seventh Heaven tomorrow,” Cloud spoke up.
“Really?!” Tifa exclaimed.
“I believe I promised a friend that nothing would change. We’d pick up where we left off so…” he trailed off, tucking his hands in his pockets.
“Oh...right.” Honestly, Tifa almost forgot about the promise. Throughout the years, Tifa disregarded it as an impulsive response to the sadness that she felt about her childhood friend leaving for the army. But the fact that he actually remembered the promise made Tifa want to squeal like a fangirl. “I can’t believe that I dropped that on you way back when.”
“Five years is worth catching up. I figured I owed it to you.”
“You don’t have to owe me anything. You had a duty, and you stuck to it.”
“I’ll go at seven, tomorrow night,” Cloud quickly ignored her statement.
“Sure. Seven works.” The bedroom dimmed as the sun dug deeper into the horizon. “Well I’d love to keep catching up, but it’s getting pretty late, huh? I want you to get some rest. You’ve got a big day coming up!”
Cloud grumpily hummed, finding himself disappointed that Tifa was leaving so soon. Granted, she did have work the next day. He unknowingly tensed up at the thought of being alone.
“One more thing…” Tifa gained the courage to immediately hug Cloud, closing her eyes into his chest. He stiffened as her smaller frame pushed against his. A part of him expected to feel gentleness, but one full of malice hidden behind it. His hands instinctively reached for her shoulders, ready to shove her off. Even if he knew he couldn’t, and that it was pointless. But the longer he stood there, the more he found a reason to stop himself. Tifa’s hugs held something purer, a warmth that felt correct. How could he forget that? “I’m really glad you’re back, Cloud. You don’t know how much I missed you.”
Attempting to relax his body, Cloud reluctantly wrapped his arms around her, easily placing the tip of his chin atop her head. “I missed you too,” he replied.
Tifa softly chuckled and released the hug. “See you tomorrow, then,” she said, leaving Cloud by his lonesome.
His body remained in that same spot, the shadows in the corners edging closer along the walls. His eyes surveyed the room. Every poster, every flag, every book. It immensely irritated him as his heartbeat quickened. It was disgusting. How could his younger self have been so blind? Anyone could have mistaken his determination for stupid ignorance. Somebody could have guided him to a different path, revealing the truth of war. Yet he fell for it like a good little soldier and kept going anyway.
His mouth met his fingers, and his teeth stuttered along his nails. He was afraid to look. Dreadfully, Cloud focused his eyes on the forbidden poster. The one he used to ogle, the one he used to admire, the one he used to want to become. If only. If only they knew the reality behind Sephiroth’s death. He should be relieved, right? That everyone around him excused it as just another tragedy in the fields of battle? That Sephiroth’s name went down with honor? His skin was saved, and his loved ones looked at him with adoration—not horror. Everything stayed the same. He should be satisfied.
How fucking pathetic that you think you deserve them.
Cloud’s entire body trembled. He wanted to crawl onto the floor and curl into himself. It felt safer down there where he didn’t have to get up again, only to be taken down twice as hard. All that was missing was the third black eye he had that month, the busted lip, the dislodged shoulder. He remembered refusing to let his tears break because crying in front of him would only earn him a sharp slap. Behind him, Cloud heard the click of the front door. It prompted him to shut his own door immediately. The solitude left him both relieved and lonely.
A smooth, calculating voice whispered in his ear as if he stood right beside him.
“I know it hurts, Cloud,” Sephiroth’s smile never wavered. The young soldier couldn’t recall a time when he ever frowned. That detail frightened him. He struggled to pick himself up, his cheek already bruising. Sephiroth tenderly petted the top of his head, his grin growing larger when he flinched away from his touch. Licking his lips at the sight of a fearful Cloud with teary eyes, Sephiroth thought he looked truly delicious.
“But know that I’ve felt far worse than the pain you’re experiencing now. If you vow to become the best, then you must learn what this feels like. Your tolerance will be more advanced than the other soldiers. I thought this was what you wanted? If you cannot handle this, I will choose another pupil,” Sephiroth’s catlike eyes narrowed with glee when he saw Cloud lower his head in shame.
“N-No. I’ll keep going…I-I want to be just like you,” he stuttered, clutching onto Sephiroth’s hand to help balance him to his feet. He repositioned into his previous fighting stance, his fists shaking. Despite all the ruthless blows that Cloud took, he still held that persistent flare in his eyes. Even if it appeared more ghostly, and the dread was far more prevalent. Sephiroth humorlessly chuckled, hearing these types of words from him so many times before. “You’ll be a great hero, Cloud,” Sephiroth purred, dashing at the blond in a ferocious speed then grasped his neck.
Gritting his teeth, Cloud stormed towards his Sephiroth poster and ripped it into shreds. He was gone now. He should be happy. Cloud performed the same treatment on the other posters. He tore his historical DVDs from their shelves, shriveled his many Midgaran patriotic pennants, ripped the pages out of his war books and autobiographies from actual soldiers, amputated the joints of his soldier action figures. Including the one that Tifa made him keep.
All her hard work that she did to set up his room in its former state, ruined by his own hands. Cloud bit his knuckles as immense guilt washed over his body.
She was always so sweet, thinking about others before herself. Too bad she’s wasting it on someone as horrible as you.
The air suffocated him. His body desperately shivered. He wanted to feel something, anything other than what he was feeling right now.
Cloud gave an expectant glare at his shaking hand. Lifting his shirt, he snatched a part of his side. His nails dug into his skin, far deeper than he anticipated. Letting out a weak groan, Cloud stuffed his shattered dreams back into his suitcases and meekly climbed into his bed. He didn’t need his mother worrying over him, asking him a bunch of ridiculous questions as to why his room was such a mess. He would secretly throw everything away later.
The blanket pinched his cold skin. He focused on this numbness, blocking out any other emotion that came with it. He taught him long ago to ignore all that.
So, Cloud kept scratching his skin. When it began to feel less grading, he slapped himself in between scrapes. The combination brought a strong sting. He laid in a bed that barely even fit his pitiful body anymore, his feet almost dangling at the end of the bed. Everything he once had in his room was gone. Except for a blue vase potted with yellow daisies.