Work Text:
Things Cloud Strife would like to not deal with:
1. Replacing the plumbing of their toilet.
2. Talking to Rufus Shinra about the delivery the man kept hounding him about.
3. Deal with the fact that he apparently spontaneously grew wings.
Cloud had really thought he’d gotten over the fact that sometimes, his body was not his own. It wasn’t really the sort of thing most people ever had to think about and – at least according to Tifa – even less the sort of thing people just ‘got over’ but Cloud had left normalcy behind a long time ago. Somewhere between Sephiroth’s dramatic reappearance murdering the president and Kadaj trying to throw Rufus off the tower, he’d really thought that this fact had gotten through even the thick skull of a Strife.
However, even Cloud Strife, former puppet of the former war hero turned genocidal maniac who refused to stay dead Sephiroth, drew the line at growing wings.
At least they weren’t black.
This was the consolation he clung to every time his back exploded in pain or his wings spread feathers over half the bar or Tifa sighed because he accidentally smashed one of the glass bottles while turning again.
At least there were three of them, each a brilliant white that nearly hurt to look at, all on the same side but getting smaller the further down his back they were attached. Any way they differed from Sephiroth’s single black wing he’d take and as far as wings growing on humanoid people went, this was pretty far from it.
Still, the fourth smashed bottle and Tifa’s accusatory glance finally convinced him to deal with them. She deserved better than having to clean up his messes, both figuratively and literally. So he gets off his ass and contacts Shelke because if anyone currently still alive knew what kind of genetic nightmare Hojo could have cooked up for him with his experiments, it’d be her.
Turns out not even she knew because Hojo and digitization or proper scientific process went about as well together as Cloud Strife and keeping out of trouble. However, she still had an idea for how to fix his little feathery problem and that alone made the way out to her instead of dealing with Prick Shinra worth it.
“They have given him the designation - they call him Red,” she explained. “You know most of SOLDIER had perished by the time Heidegger took over the department after Sephiroth’s… defection at Nibelheim. The following years -” Cloud winced at the pointed reminder “- took out most of those that were still left. But Shinra was not thorough enough. A few managed to slip the cracks. From what I have heard of their chatter during my dives, he is the one they tend to go to when they have trouble with their bodies of the unusual kind.”
“Do you know who he is?”
Shelke shrugged. “He is Red. Some call him ‘Doc’ as well.”
Cloud narrowed his eyes. “Science department?”
“Unlikely,” Shelke rebuked. “SOLDIER has never trusted Science, Deepground exempt.”
“Even when they were desperate?” Cloud prompted. He has had more than enough prodding and poking for a lifetime during those five years with Hojo. Not even keeping Tifa’s bar clean would be worth the risk of a repeat.
“As far as I am aware with my reach, nobody matching Red’s description and age has ever worked for Shinra’s science department.”
Cloud sighed and accepted that that was as good as he’d get. “Thanks, Shelke.”
“It was no problem.”
First hurdle crossed, he now had to figure out how in the world he would be able to track down a guy who’s real name nobody knew, who’s face only knew a few and who – according to the chatter Shelke had picked up – spent most of his time in the Wastes.
After a few days of fruitless searching by taking a few deliveries that would require him to cross the wastes, Cloud had to admit defeat. It was just too big of an area to clear, even with it being as empty as it was. The only reason he and Zack got caught way back when was because an entire army went after them, they were injured and sick and had no idea where they were going. A single person, like Cloud, trying to find somebody who likely knew this territory like the back of their hand and seemed to be perfectly healthy? Not gonna happen.
So that left asking the other SOLDIERs since they didn’t seem keen on sharing the exact location of Red over even mostly secured lines. Not that Cloud could fault them for it considering all the kinds of spying Shinra had engaged in on the regular. Paranoia was just inevitable for ex-Shinra employees.
Unfortunately, that required him to actually show up to their houses in person.
It wasn’t that he was on bad terms with the resident SOLDIER population. He might have fought some of them during his time in Avalanche but Edge functioned on the basis of leaving the past in the past. He wasn’t worried about old grudges as much as it was just deeply, embarassingly awkward.
Cloud wasn’t a SOLDIER. Not like they were. For all the knowledge he gained from Zack, it was sharply obvious whenever he tried to talk to one of them that he had not the slightest idea about how SOLDIER had worked. They might share the same mako eyes, might share the stares of distrust from the general populace on the streets, but he wasn’t one of them. It didn’t help that everybody knew him as a SOLDIER First, nowadays, and as it turned out, the ex-SOLDIERs were damn protective of their Firsts. Zack’s name brought him a bit of respect with some people and saving the world – from Shinra – some with others but nowadays most of them just wanted to settle down and forget about Shinra, SOLDIER and monsters. Cloud, who walked around with a giant sword on his back for his deliveries, did not help in that plan.
So it didn’t come as a surprise to him when the first two doors were shut in his face as quick as they opened. The third and the fourth – a tall man with spiky black hair that reminded him uncomfortably of Zack and a wiry woman with touches of red in her hair - at least pointed him into a direction and gave him a name. The fifth door turned out to actually be the person in question and when Cloud banged against the door, it opened to a young man who looked like he’d aged prematurely. A lot of SOLDIER did. Something about the mako treatments they were given. Maybe even the Jenova cells injected during their treatments.
“Kunsel?” Cloud asks, meeting the dark eyes of the man in front of him. He had floppy brown hair that curled in soft waves over a perpetually frowning brow like he was constantly deep in thought. Something about him struck Cloud as familiar.
The man blinked. “Strife. You weren’t who I expected to show up today.” He glanced at Cloud’s coat – too hot for the weather but he wasn’t about to walk through half of Edge with his mutated wings on display – and the dust sticking to his face and stepped aside. “Come in for a moment.”
Cloud stepped in.
The house wasn’t very big. It was one of those simple one-story homes that had cropped up all over Edge because they were quick and easy to build. The door opened directly into a living room with the kitchen right behind it. Two more doors led to side rooms. The furniture was sparse and obviously meant for only one person. One of the three chairs had a broadsword leaned against it.
“Sit down and get rid of that coat. Don’t worry, the house is secure. Not even Tuesti has eyes here.”
Now that Kunsel was talking about surveillance, Cloud finally managed to place why he’d looked familiar. He had consulted for Reeve at the WRO before, something about an information network and also on the subject of the remaining SOLDIERs.
Trusting his gut instinct of just going for it, Cloud shrugged the coat off and let his wings – awkwardly bundled under there with Tifa’s help and a few layers of cloth – snap outwards.
Kunsel sighed behind him. “I thought it’d be something like this.”
He turned to the little kitchen, otherwise looking completely unfazed. “Water? I’d offer you tea but you already look half-melted.”
Cloud simply nodded and attempted the difficult maneuver of trying to place himself on a chair without either crushing his wings or knocking something over. Having the hero of the planet come into your home just to knock over some priceless heirloom would have made the situation even more awkward than it already was. Thankfully, Kunsel had a taste for big armchairs with lots of empty space around them.
“Here.” Kunsel placed a glass of blissfully cold water into his hands. “So, wings.”
Cloud took a sip and raised his eyebrows at the other SOLDIER over his glass. “You don’t seem surprised.”
Kunsel snorted. “I’ve seen more of those wings than I ever wanted in a lifetime. Mostly surprised they’re not black, honestly.”
Cloud shuddered. “Me too.”
Kunsel’s eyes softened. “I assume you’re here to seek help for them?”
Cloud shrugged. “Don’t think they can be helped. But I wouldn’t mind a few tips in how to deal with them. I heard about a Red?”
“Ah.” Something indecipherable changed about Kunsel’s face and his expression melted neatly from masked concern into realisation. “Of course.”
Cloud frowned. “Problem?”
“No. Just that I didn’t think that far.”
“Word on the street says you know where he is?”
“I can tell you where he’s likely to show up. He changes his living arrangements faster than President Shinra used to throw parties.”
“Where?” Cloud takes another sip from the clear, cold water.
Kunsel’s eyes narrow as he studies Cloud’s face. Cloud fights his instincts to remain still and not run off like a prey animal in the gaze of a predator.
If it came to it, he could take Kunsel with ease.
It takes Kunsel no more than a few seconds to apparently find what he was searching for. “You’re a SOLDIER even if you were never SOLDIER. You have a right to know.” The earlier playfulness has disappeared from his face. “But this is for SOLDIER only.”
Cloud bristled, the unspoken implication clear. Secrecy about their methods had always been a Shinra thing and despite everything that happened, every SOLDIER was still ex-Shinra.
“He’s not a threat,” Kunsel promises and Cloud would love to believe it. “Red just likes his privacy like we ex-SOLDIER types tend to.”
Cloud perks up at that without meaning to, catching another of those strange glances from Kunsel in the edge of his vision. Even with Kunsel’s reassurance, there had still been a lingering suspicion that ‘Red’ had been Science Department. “He’s SOLDIER?”
Kunsel shrugs. “Used to be. Like we all.”
“Not from the Science Department?”
He actually laughs at that. “I would pay for you to say that to his face. Although I would recommend ducking after because he’ll probably try to fry your ass for it.”
Cloud snorts. “He can certainly try.”
Kunsel lets the matter drop without much resistance. “How well do you know the Wastes?”
“Good enough.”
“There’s a plateau about three hours on Chocobo out from Midgar’s old south entrance. You know what I’m talking about?”
Cloud swallowed the uncomfortable feeling crawling up his gut. “Yes.” He knew that particular plateau all-too well.
“Get there by early afternoon. If Red hasn’t shown up by dusk, he’s not there. In that case, get back here and I’ll try and figure out something else. There’s still some Shinra Science documents I haven’t gone through yet.”
His wings instinctively recoiled at the mention of Science and Cloud only barely avoided smashing them into one of the two half-empty storage cabinets leaning against the wall.
“Or not. Message understood loud and clear.” Kunsel winked, taking the bite out of his words. “But seriously, dude, we can figure something out.”
Cloud shrank back, suddenly uncomfortable. “Thanks for your help. And the water.”
“’Course,” Kunsel answered and plucks the now empty glass from his grasp. “Good luck on your search. And a word of advice: If Red starts throwing Fira spells, just duck, he’ll get over it.”
Cloud huffed. “I’ll try to avoid getting burned to a crisp.”
“Don’t worry, he hasn’t tried to kill anyone for a week at least!”
***
From: Still not a Turk
If there is a surprise arrival at the usual spot anytime in this week, please don’t roast him.
For you are beloved by the goddess,
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.
From: Red
I make no promises.
To find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber.
***
It actually took Cloud two more days until he could get off early enough to make it to the plateau in time. Wings didn’t bring food on their table or support 7th Heaven on their own and they also didn’t stop him from still taking deliveries. There were a few requests in the line that couldn’t wait much longer too so he kills two tonberries in one strike. It did mean two more days of back pain and feathers everywhere but he was a SOLDIER. He could deal.
Mercifully, the sun was burning down on his head by the time he made it up to the plateau. He didn’t think he could have handled it, being back here during rain. Too many memories lingering under the surface. The taste of blood in his mouth.
Instead of an army, the plateau was empty. He hadn’t been back here since he took the Buster Sword to the church. The place seemed strangely lonely without it. Just another ordinary, forgettable part of the Wastes, now that the last reminder for Zack’s heroic deed was gone.
It felt wrong, but also right at the same time. Zack might have died here but he deserved better than be immortalized at the place of the worst moment of his life. The Buster Sword belonged in the church, where Zack’s heart had resided.
“Enjoying the view?”
Cloud has drawn the Fusion sword before he can even properly blink. With his senses SOLDIER-enhanced, he should have been able to hear any car and/or motorcycle and/or chocobo arriving here and the plateau had been empty when he arrived.
And yet, at the other end, framed against the vast emptiness of the Wasteland, stood a man. He wore a red shirt in a cut popular in Edge and light pants with a coat loosely slung around his shoulders. His hair – a bright shade of red with some paler strands - was cropped short, far shorter than Kunsel’s had been. His eyes were blue and piercing, glowing with the eerie light of mako treatments.
“So that’s what Kunsel meant by a surprise. Hero of the dawn indeed.”
He’d met the other man for five seconds and he could already tell he was entirely too invested in his own dramatics.
“Red, I presume?” Cloud crossed his arms and demonstratively leaned himself against Fenrir after having put the sword back.
“That’s what I’m called, these days.”
So he liked dramatics and hearing himself talk. Even though they couldn’t be more different in appearance, Cloud was uncomfortably reminded of Hojo.
“Kunsel sent me,” Cloud offered. “I’m…”
“The trooper,” Red cut him off.
It wasn’t the first time that somebody called Cloud that. Between higher-ranked Shinra personnel sneering at the army grunts, Hojo asking over and over how a simple trooper had killed his prized specimen and everybody else having an opinion on him, Cloud had heard himself being called a trooper probably more than his actual name at this point. But something about the way Red pronounced the word made it sound different. More like Red was saying the trooper, not a trooper.
“They call me Cloud, these days,” he mimicked Red’s mannerism instead.
To his surprise, the other actually laughed. Normally, the haughty types got all annoyed when you mocked them. “The reports about your humor weren’t exaggerated. I see. No wonder Kunsel warned me to let you live.”
Cloud rolled his eyes at the arrogance. “Good luck with that.”
Red ignored his challenge and instead spread out his arms. “No fighting today. We Ex-Experiments have to stick together. What brings the hero of the planet to my humble abode today?”
Cloud silently raised an eyebrow at that and Red shrugged, the playful expression wiped off his face. “Just because Hojo took less of a personal interest didn’t make SOLDIER any less of one. What did he do to you?”
Cloud shrugs off the coat in response, glad for the relief in the scorching sun.
Red, in difference to Kunsel’s nonchalance, is stunned as he sees the wings for the first time. Weird. Kunsel had mentioned that he’d seen wings before and Red seemed to be their go-to doctor for weird SOLDIER shit. Surely he’d seen wings before?
“I have not seen one of those in a while.” Cloud had to hand it to him, he recovered quickly at least. “Normally, Hojo’s experiments tend to end up with more scales.”
Cloud shudders at the mental image. “Don’t know if it was the Professor or Jenova. They just appeared randomly, about a week ago.”
Red’s eyes narrowed. “Unless… You were not born here in Midgar, correct?”
Cloud snorted. “I’m from Nibelheim. Nothing Shinra about that town.”
Except the old mansion and the creepy laboratory and the reactor but Red didn’t need to know about any of that.
“Your mother?”
Cloud swallowed. Even after all that time, it still stung. “She never even visited here.”
“Then I doubt it was actually Hojo’s experimentations. The only cases where the Science Department gave people wings happened when they were experimented on before they were born.” The derision and disgust in Red’s voice mirrored the feelings bubbling up in Cloud’s throat. For Shinra’s Science Department, truly nothing had been off-limits.
“Why now, then?” he wondered out loud, deciding to shelve this new, horrifying revelation for when there were drinks at hand. “Jenova is gone.”
Red shrugged. “One case I know of, it was an injury that caused it. Another, proximity to someone else with J-cells. I am no scientist but there does not seem to be a pattern to it.”
Well those were just great news.
“Kunsel said the same thing, about having seen wings like mine before,” Cloud prodded. “Is there anyone around who got rid of them?”
Red laughed, short and bitter. “Nothing short of a scientist and a few knives.”
“No,” Cloud stated without even having to think.
“I assumed so. Follow me, then.”
Cloud stared back. “Where to?”
Red rolled his eyes. “My house. Sacrifice at world’s end, sure, but I’m not teaching you how to control those wings without somewhere decent to sit.”
***
[1 new message from Red]
He has Angeal’s wings.
***
The ride to Red’s home turned out to be surprisingly short. After a bit of grumbling and a quick text message, Red accepted Cloud’s offer of riding on Fenrir and they got there in under an hour. How Red had gotten to the plateau without any mode of transportation of his own – and without walking because those boots would have led to him breaking his neck trying to scale a cliff – would remain a mystery.
The house was nothing extraordinary. Just a simple building out of wood, tucked in a corner of the range of hills, with a little garden and two trees next to it. It reminded Cloud most of all of Elmyra and Aerith’s home before Meteor levelled most of Midgar. There were no flowers but one of the trees was carrying purple apple-shaped fruits.
“Alright,” Red said after he jumped off the motorcycle. “First lesson: how to pull in your wings because otherwise you’re not going to fit inside.”
Cloud raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said nobody could get rid of them.”
“I’m not suggesting you get rid of them, I’m telling you to use those muscles you’ve got. I thought you were SOLDIER, you should know how to do that.”
“I must have been too busy not getting murdered by Shinra’s military to absorb the lesson about wings,” Cloud shot back, rolling his eyes.
Red huffed but – with visible effort – let it go. “Stretch out your arm.”
Cloud stared at the clearly insane man in front of him.
Red dramatically turned skyward. “I’m not an expert, Strife, but that’s what the Commander used to say. Just do it.”
Cloud did it and felt very stupid.
“Now fold it back in and just...focus on the muscles in your back. They’ll know what to do better than your brain obviously does.”
He wanted to bite back because Red’s arrogance was reaching unbearable levels but the sudden disappearance of weight on his back had him stumble forward. Red didn’t catch him, simply staring at him with crossed arms when he had steadied himself again. A single white feather clung to his shirt, the only part that betrayed what just happened. A smug smile curled his lips.
“Told you so.”
Cloud rolled his eyes. “How much of that was guesswork?”
“You wound me,” Red gasped dramatically.
“You were the one who said you weren’t an expert,” Cloud pointed out and Red huffed in defeat. “Pride is lost, wings stripped away, the end is nigh.” Reading Cloud’s confusion correctly, Red added: “Loveless, Act II. You’ve never read it?”
“Heard about the play,” Cloud answered. “I was a bit busy at the time.”
“The ecoterrorism. Right.” The smile on Red’s lips was playful. “I do hope you helped making President Shinra’s last days insufferable.”
The inside wasn’t any bigger than it looked from the outside but now that the wings were gone, at least Cloud could fit through the door. The furniture was even more sparse than in Kunsel’s home: Only a chipped table, a bank, a comfortable reading chair that looked extremely out of place, a dresser and a little fireplace that doubled as heating and cooking place were visible. A door leading to a second room must be the bedroom.
Red walked straight to the dresser and opened it. Cloud took half a step forward without meaning to as he realized that it was full of materia of all colours. Red plucked out a yellow and a green one out of the chaos without hesitation. Before he closed it again, Cloud spotted at least a dozen more green ones, a few yellow and blue and three red ones.
“Summons?” he asked Red as the other man turned around again.
Red shrugged. “I’ve always been better with materia than with swords. Those are just a few I’ve picked up during travels. Ifrit and the like.”
Cloud could feel a smile creep up on his face for the first time since he met Red. “I’ve always been privy more to Shiva and Leviathan.”
Red dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Good choices.” He raised the two materia, now neatly slotted in a bracer on his wrist. “Sense and Cleansing. I’d like to make sure it’s really just the wings and no other mutations.”
He didn’t wait for an answer and just cast. The magic washing over Cloud was impressive, at least. He knew that Red had to be powerful to cast summons but this cast proved his suspicions. Interesting. SOLDIERs, in his experience, tended to rely much more on pure strength. He’d have to ask Reeve, later.
Instead of talking about his thoughts, he took a step back. “It’s rude to cast without asking.”
Red looked back unapologetically. “If I’d ask every time I’m about to do something, we’d never get anywhere.”
“That’s a terrible reason.”
“From where I’m standing, you came to me.”
“Still a terrible reason.”
“At least now I can tell you that the rest of your body is fine,” Red countered smugly. “Just the wings for you, not the full package.”
Now he’d awakened Cloud’s curiosity, earlier conversation forgotten. “What would be the full package?”
Red winced. “Not important to you, saviour of the world.”
“You’re not exactly making me want to trust you, Doc,” Cloud pointed out.
“I’m not here to inspire confidence, I’m here to teach you how to live with your wings,” Red snapped, barely leashed anger leaking through. His fingers gripped the materia bracer tightly. “So unless you want to go dig up Sephiroth’s grave and rather ask his decomposing corpse, I’d suggest listening.”
Cloud raised his eyebrow. “You don’t have wings.”
“I used to serve under somebody who had wings,” Red said, much quieter this time.
Cloud mentally flipped back through their conversation. “The Commander?”
“Commander Hewley.” Melancholy tinged the way Red said the title, the way Cloud heard himself say “SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair” sometimes. “He’s not alive anymore, if you’re wondering. No grave for him you could dig up for answers.”
Ironically, Red looked much younger with the raw expression of loss on his face, only half-masked by the old grief in his eyes. “Legend shall speak of sacrifice at world’s end,” he quoted, eyes half-lidded. “Honor and dreams were always Hewley’s thing. I can tell you what he used to do. It might help.”
Cloud swallows his own grief. The price of freedom is steep. Whatever happens, protect your honor as SOLDIER. “Sure.”
“You know the most important trick already. Now, for keeping them clean, you have to…”
***
From: Still not a Turk
Sorry for not warning you. I didn’t realize.
From: Red
My friend, the fates are cruel
From: Red
I can see why Fair liked him.
***
Surprisingly, the things Red told him all turned out to actually work. Actually moving the wings regularly got rid of his back pain. Taking the time to groom the feathers like he would his hair made them less itchy. If he concentrated, they moved the way he wanted them to. He even dared to try out the flying and nearly gave Reeve a heart attack when he arrives at the WRO headquarters per wing instead of Fenrir. It was pretty shaky and he’d take the motorcycle every day of the week but it was still awesome that he even could. In spite of a part of him thinking about Sephiroth the whole trip, it was certainly a one of a kind experience.
Being at headquarters also reminded him of something he wanted to ask ever since he had returned from Red.
“Reeve, do you still have records about Shinra employees?”
Reeve barely looked up from the form he was busy filling out. “We might in the archives. Why?”
“The man who told me how to get my wings to work. He mentioned somebody else who also had them. A ‘Commander Hewley’.”
That does get Reeve to look up. “You’re sure he said Hewley?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t need records then. I can tell you. He was ex-SOLDIER, right? Your ‘Red’?”
Cloud nodded in confirmation.
“There was only one person he could have meant. SOLDIER First Class, Angeal Hewley.”
Somehow even now, a week later, the words ‘SOLDIER First Class’ struck Cloud in the chest with the aching feeling of loss. They’d both been missing a First and never even knew.
“The name sounds familiar,” he admitted out loud. “But I can’t place it.” It must have been during his trooper time where all the memories were messed up and mixed with Zack’s or just straight up missing.
“He was a part of the SOLDIER First Trinity. That’s how Shinra advertised them, at least.” Reeve had completely abandoned the form in favor of talking to Cloud now. “Hewley had been a trusted commander of SOLDIER for most of the Wutai War but in the early stages of the Genesis War, he suddenly left. Shortly after, he was killed in action.”
Cloud remembered the way Red had said ‘no grave’. “Shinra?”
“Fair, actually.”
That gets him to raise his eyebrows at Reeve. The man shrugged. “If I remember correctly, he took out both Hewley and his friend, Rhapsodos, during that mission. The war itself went on for a bit longer though. Didn’t know he had wings.”
“Rhapsodos.” That name rang a bell in his empty memory. “They were friends?”
“According to the briefing I got, it was assumed Rhapsodos defected first and Hewley followed him. They grew up together and joined SOLDIER together as well.”
Their eyes met and Reeve furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t mean…”
“He had red hair, didn’t he?”
Instead of answering, Reeve started up his computer. Barely a minute later, he pulled up a personnel file, stamped with a big ‘K.I.A.’ “That was him.”
“That’s him,” Cloud confirmed at the same time.
Reeve closed the file again and buried his head in his hands. “The Science Department never could clean up after their messes. Damn Copies.”
Cloud vaguely remembered the Genesis Copies who’d terrorized Junon what seemed like several ages ago. “You think one of them slipped through Shinra’s fingers? But they never seemed very...human.”
“There were a few,” Reeve said. “They might have gotten more freedom with the death of their creator.”
Cloud sighed. He didn’t want to ask this but: “What do you think the best course of action is?” His wings, loosely folded on his back, rustled uncomfortably.
Reeve sighed in tandem. “I don’t know, Cloud.”
***
From: Still not a Turk
Tuesti just asked me about you. I’d suggest finding a new place to stay.
From: Red
Understood.
Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
From: Still not a Turk
It doesn’t matter how often you quote this poem, I’m still not going to learn it by heart.
From: Red
But you’re quoting it back at me :)
From: Still not a Turk
I hope they burn down your house.
***
When Cloud, Reeve and a contingent of WRO guards arrived at the house, it was already nothing but burning smolders. The strange tree in the garden was gone, as was most of the building. From what little Cloud could see through the half-collapsed structure, it looked like the house had been cleaned up before somebody – Cloud thought of the drawer full of materia and sighed silently – had set it on fire.
Cloud looked at Reeve.
Reeve looked back.
Cloud shrugged in the universal “what are you gonna do” gesture.
And if he looked up at the sky when they left – if he spotted a figure too big for a bird and moving too fast for anything else than a winged creature with just a hint of red – then that was his own business.
And if he came home to a single piece of paper pinned to his pillow with a black feather, then that was also his business.
(It read: I’d suggest doing your back stretches twice a day. It’ll help. Don’t forget the oil. Below it lay a tiny, unmastered Cleansing materia with a second note that just said “Emergencies”.
Cloud tucked it into a drawer beside his bed and smiled.)