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la-regina-scrive · 4 years

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The Truce

Length: 3.4k words

Summary: Sephiroth and Cloud agree to a truce. Feldspar and Obsidian return. Enemies-to-frenemies antics.

“You are out of milk.”

Cloud jumped about two feet in the air as he startled. He fixed his wild glare in the direction of the refrigerator, and sure enough, he was there. That asshole. With the carton in his hand.

To punctuate his point, the asshole lifted the carton to his mouth and took a swig, then rattled it to illustrate that it was empty.

This was not the first time Sephiroth had appeared inside his home. But it happened just rarely enough that it always caught Cloud by surprise.

“How do you keep getting in here?” he demanded.

“Your threshold is not barred to the likes of me, Cloud.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Without waiting for an answer, he stormed up to Sephiroth and snatched the empty milk carton.

“It means that I can walk through that door as easily as I can walk through you.” With no further warning, Sephiroth strode forward and passed through Cloud like he was nothing, leaving Cloud with the sickening feeling of his cells shifting and then resettling. Any anger dissolved in the unease and thrill of terror it sent through him, and he dropped the empty milk carton as he brought his hands to his face and chest to make sure everything was still in the right place. Satisfied that he seemed to be intact and not deformed in any way he could detect, he caught his breath and tried to calm down.

Sephiroth was seated on the couch, waiting lazily for Cloud. The anger returned as he beelined for Sephiroth, but it didn’t burn with the same heat. At least with Sephiroth seated, Cloud could glare downward at him, and didn’t have to worry about another cellular shuffle right away.

“What are you even doing here?” Cloud asked.

“Getting something to drink, or at least trying to,” Sephiroth replied with a wolfish grin. The flame of anger intensified.

“I mean why are you getting something to drink here. With me. Instead of anywhere else.”

“Am I not an old acquaintance? We’ve known each other so long. Had so many shared experiences. Would you turn me out of your home?”

Gods, he was such a smug little shit. Such an asshole. Cloud gritted his teeth. “I would. You aren’t welcome here. I hate you and wish you stayed dead for good. Now get out.”

“Well that won’t do, perpetually linked as we are. Perhaps, Cloud, this is an opportunity to mend fences. Bury hatchets.” Sephiroth gestured his fingers in a tight loop, adding, “That sort of thing.”

“You want to make up. You. Want to make up. With me.” Cloud tried to sound as deeply cynical as possible.

“Yes,” Sephiroth answered, but the arrogant way he spread his arms across the back of the couch undercut any attempt at sincerity. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones, if you will.”

“Oh, you, you are willing. So gracious of you! You haven’t even apologized to me, or to Tifa, or, or, or to anybody else in Avalanche!” Cloud’s voice increased in volume as he continued.

“Is that what it would take?” Sephiroth asked. He still looked far too comfortable but the question sounded legitimate. Cloud was ready to break his face in with his fists if this turned out to be some kind of joke, so he took the bait.

“Not just that, but it’s a start. You’d have to say you’re sorry. To everybody. And you’d have to mean it. You’d have to sound contrite, not do any of your smug asshole routine,” Cloud said, gesturing up and down over Sephiroth’s general appearance. He raised an eyebrow, but Cloud ignored him. “Maybe, maybe if you expressed some genuine regret we could start the healing process. And no more, you know, coming in here and bugging me and raiding my fridge and phasing through me like some kind of goddamn ghost!” Cloud’s voice was hitting the highest pitch of his register by the end of his speech.

Sephiroth brought his hands together, tented his fingers, and looked thoughtful.

“These would be acceptable truce terms,” he said after a long moment. “Is a kowtow necessary or is vocal contrition sufficient?”

“You could bow.”

Sephiroth’s mouth twitched. “That would be pushing it.”

“Oh? Oh would that be too much? Well nuts to your pride. I want a ninety-degree bow. For everybody.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. “Tifa and the others will receive one bow. You’ve killed me enough times that I consider us even.”

Cloud knew they were nowhere near close to even, not by a long shot, especially because the so-called killing never seemed to take. But if it meant the end of these unwelcome visits to his home he was willing to take it.

“Fine. Okay? Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Then we have a truce. Does that mean I can stay?”

“No it doesn’t. I still hate you and want you out of my house. Did you really come here just to drink my milk and bug me? Really though, I have to know, now that I’ve agreed to this shit. Are you even sorry, at all? Do you have any actual regrets?”

To Cloud’s surprise, Sephiroth looked thoughtful and clasped his hands together. He looked up and seemed to give some real, genuine consideration to the question.

“I do have a regret, in fact,” Sephiroth answered.

Perhaps, Cloud thought, Sephiroth was serious about this whole mending fences and burying hatchets business. He was still going about it in the most obnoxious way possible, but maybe Sephiroth really meant it.

Sephiroth continued with complete sincerity, “I had two cats. I abandoned them. I haven’t seen them in eight years.” His eyes were unfocused, staring into the distance.

“I hope they’re okay,” he added.

Sephiroth had barely finished the word “okay” before Cloud’s fist connected with his jaw, and there was an audible crack as the bone fractured.

“You asshole, don’t fuck with me!” Cloud yelled, throwing a second punch. Sephiroth caught this one, and followed up with a tackle since he was already at the perfect height. The coffee table collapsed under their combined weight as they scuffled, getting in a few stray punches. Cloud was mostly able to hit him in the back, while Sephiroth had the easiest time going for Cloud’s stomach. Sephiroth yowled as Cloud gave a fistful of silver hair a good yank. He attempted to follow the hair pull with a hit to Sephiroth’s jaw in the same place, but Sephiroth leaned forward out of the way and shoved Cloud aside.

They got to their feet, standing apart, catching their breath and glaring daggers at each other.

“You broke the truce in a pitifully short time. That counts as your apology,” Sephiroth said, bringing a hand up to his jaw.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Tch,” Sephiroth hissed and dropped his hand. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah I bet.” Cloud noticed a visible bruise, but not much more. He knew Sephiroth could soak a few broken bones but it still felt good. He knew even for a SOLDIER they still hurt like hell. Sephiroth was visibly restraining himself from working his jaw, showing that at the very least his pride had been wounded.

Still, Cloud was a little interested in finding out what the story was behind Sephiroth apparently having cats.

“So what, are there a couple of starving cat skeletons in the ruins of your house?” he asked.

“Hardly. I left them in the care of a woman who looked after them from time to time. I had planned to be gone for several weeks, I was not going to leave them without supervision.”

“So what? Do you think she threw them out?”

Once again it looked like Sephiroth was giving the question serious thought.

“I doubt it,” he answered. “She might have found them a new home but she wouldn’t just get rid of them. As cross as she might be with me, she would never take it out on the cats.” Sephiroth looked up at Cloud.

“Cloud, I require the use of your telephone.”

Cloud glared, wanting to refuse, but curiosity and sympathy for the animals got the better of him.

“Fine, yes. You can use the phone. It’s in there,” he said, motioning to the room upstairs. “I’ll show you.”

---

It was a long shot but then again, Ms. Dimakos had never changed her number. At the very least, she could tell him what had happened to Obsidian and Feldspar. He picked up the receiver, dialed the number, and slouched into the chair. He brought one leg up to rest it on his opposite knee, making deliberate eye contact with Cloud as the phone toned into his ear. A feminine mechanical voice reported that this number was no longer in service but that the call would be forwarded to the latest contact on file.

Cloud glared like he was trying to bore holes into Sephiroth’s skull. The bruise on the corner of his chin still smarted, but like hell he was going to acknowledge it. Cloud could glare all he liked. Puny, insignificant--

“Hello?” A young woman’s voice asked through the phone.

He switched seamlessly into business mode. Automated. From another life.

“Hello, I’m calling to reach Ms. Dimakos. Is she available?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Hold on a minute.” There was a rustle as the phone handset was set down, and then faintly he could hear the girl’s voice call, “Grandma! There’s a man on the phone for you.”

It would probably take a few minutes for her to reach the phone. He tapped his gloved fingers against the desk.

Cloud was still keeping a close eye on him, but clearly it had given Cloud some pause to see him using the phone like a perfectly normal person, as if basic competency in social graces put him on the same level as an average, mundane human.

Besides, this was for Spar and Sidi. He would endure indignity for their sake.

With another rustle of the handset, a new voice came on the line. “Hello? This is Ruth Dimakos speaking.”

“Ms. Dimakos, it has been a long time since we last spoke. I’m calling to ask,” and he paused, wondering how exactly he wanted to phrase it. Behavior that was a little more average and mundane than he would like. “I’m calling to ask if you can tell me what you did with an orange cat and a black cat that were left in your care eight years ago.”

“Oh my, you can’t possibly… you can’t possibly be the owner? Where have you been all this time?” She sounded incensed. “Of course I kept taking care of them but by this time they’ve lived longer with me than they did with you. Where on Gaea have you been all this time? I would hope you have a good explanation!”

It would not do to mention most of those eight years were spent being dead, on and off again.

“You have every right to be upset with me but I assure you that I would have come earlier if I could. I was in the hospital convalescing with a terrible illness. But, you say, you still have them? In your care now?”

It would do. He didn’t particularly want to see the look on Cloud’s face right at that moment. The man could give him some privacy on the phone while he attempted to piece his family back together.

The tone that Ms. Dimakos was using changed immediately. “Oh, oh I see. That is a shame. Still, I wish somebody might have given me a call! But, yes, well, that can’t be helped. They’re both here, a little bigger than the day I took them home but just as healthy. Are you still sick?”

“No ma’am, I believe that my time convalescing has come to an end. I do apologize that nobody was able to contact you on my behalf.” He wondered what, exactly, would be a believable disease that would have left him unable to communicate for eight years but could also be firmly behind him. A coma perhaps? What was normal for an average human body?

“Well. I suppose since I’m hearing from you now, you’ll be wanting them back? I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

It was terribly common for humans to anthropomorphize animals in inappropriate ways. He doubted that Spar and Sidi had much awareness of who exactly was caring for them as long as their needs were adequately met. And yet, the idea that his kitties had missed him tugged at his heart like a stuck fast fishing hook.

“If that is alright with you. I understand this has been an imposition. I would gladly compensate-”

“Wouldn’t think of it! You won’t find me taking advantage of a man’s illness. Just come get your kitties, alright?”

“I will. Thank you Madam. Where do you reside now?”

“I moved out to Kalm a few years ago to live with my granddaughter, what with the whole kerfuffle going on. I’ll give you the address. Do you have something to write with?”

He didn’t, but he said yes, knowing he would remember. He committed her information to memory and gave a brief farewell before hanging up.

“Well,” Sephiroth began, looking back up at Cloud. “This has been a lovely visit. A pleasure as always but I will be on my way.”

“I’m going with you,” Cloud declared.

“...You are going with me? For what purpose?”

“I don’t trust you. Not with that woman and not with those cats.”

“Oh come now. Why would I do anything to hurt Spa- to hurt my own cats? If I didn’t care for them I would have just consigned them to whatever Fate they would meet on their own.”

“I still don’t trust you. I’m coming, and that’s final.”

“Very well,” Sephiroth said, getting to his feet. “Then we’re on our way to Kalm. After a stop to purchase a cat carrier.”

---

Cloud had had no idea what his afternoon would look like. His schedule was open for naps, tinkering, television, reading, spending time with people, or any other possible pleasant thing he could have been doing.

What he would never, ever have guessed was standing outside an old woman’s idyllic Kalm cottage, next to Sephiroth, who was holding an empty cat carrier in each hand. Not the cheap plastic kind either, the canvas kind with mesh and a clear plastic window.

“You’re sure this is the place?” Cloud asked. He knew Sephiroth probably remembered the right house number, but it pissed him off that Sephiroth insisted on not writing it down. Who was he trying to prove something to?

Without answering, Sephiroth strode up to the door, set down one of the carriers, and knocked.

A few moments passed before an old woman with white hair and thick glasses opened the door. “Yes?” she asked.

“Ms. Dimakos, we spoke on the phone earlier. I am here to pick up my cats.”

“Oh, yes, come in.” The old woman turned toward Cloud and squinted. Now that she was looking straight at him, Cloud could see the cloudy eyes behind those glasses. “Is there someone with you?” she asked.

“Yes. He can wait outside,” Sephiroth answered, but Cloud quickly closed the gap and said, “Actually I’d like to come in please.”

“Of course,” Ms. Dimakos said. “Both of you, come in. Please excuse me, my eyesight hasn’t gotten any better. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“No thank you,” Sephiroth answered.

“Not thirsty anymore?” Cloud asked with a pointed look. Sephiroth returned it.

“...Actually a glass of water would be quite nice, Ms. Dimakos,” he amended.

It was a minor victory, but Cloud regretted it almost immediately. Now he and Sephiroth were alone in the living room. He had never seen an explosion of color like this woman’s couches. Every inch was covered in tiny printed flowers.

He decided to stand, while Sephiroth took a seat. He wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but a moment later there was a small trilling “qrr?” noise and a black cat appeared. Sephiroth did not move. The black cat trotted over to Sephiroth and sniffed at his boot extensively. After what felt like ten minutes of careful examination, Sephiroth withdrew his left hand from his glove and extended the hand toward the cat.

This the cat sniffed for only a moment before headbutting into Sephiroth’s palm. Not only that, the black cat purred. It weaved between Sephiroth’s calves as he continued to pet it. The creature did seem unambiguously pleased at the reunion.

Cloud glanced up. Sephiroth was smiling, the kind of soft genuine smile that would look like sunshine on a good person but instead looked like it should curdle milk on the face of an asshole responsible for so much death.

Cloud heard a “myow” chirped from his left as an orange tabby entered through the doorway and beelined for Sephiroth and the black cat.

“Feldspar, there you are,” Sephiroth said, still wearing that smile. Both of his gloves were off and the black cat was on the couch next to him. Feldspar came up to sniff Sephiroth’s hand, then headbutted much in the same way the other had.

That was a terrible name for a cat, and Sephiroth was still an asshole. But the cats seemed happy.

“What’s the black one’s name?” Cloud asked.

“Obsidian,” Sephiroth answered, his eyes still on the cat.

“Both of those names are awful.”

“What’s wrong with them? Are they any worse than ‘Cloud’?”

Cloud was going to retort but the little old lady shuffled in just then, with a glass of water that had a single ice cube in it, so he held his tongue. She came over to Sephiroth and handed him the glass.

“Oh, my, they seem so happy to see you!” she said. “I knew they had missed you.”

Sephiroth gave each cat a glance and a headscratch before standing up and taking the glass from her. He downed it in one smooth gulp and then set the empty glass on the side table on top of a coaster.

“Thank you very much, madam. I truly appreciate you caring for Feldspar and Obsidian all of these years, and for all of the times you cared for them in the past as well.” He took a step to the side so he could give her a proper bow, fully bent at the waist. Cloud kept his teeth gritted.

“Before you take them and go, I would like to ask you something,” Ms. Dimakos said.

“Of course.”

“What is your name? I never knew what to call you, all this time.”

“Oh,” Sephiroth said. He hesitated. “It’s really not important,” he said.

“Please, indulge an old woman. It feels silly just referring to you as a client.”

“My name is-” Sephiroth began, and Cloud could tell he was about to lie. He was pretty sure the fake name Sephiroth was about to give started with an “M.”

“His name is Sephiroth,” Cloud interrupted.

The look Sephiroth gave him was worth the whole trip.

“Oh, like the war hero!” Ms. Dimakos said.

His eyes still locked with Cloud’s, Sephiroth said, “Yes. Just like the war hero.”

She chuckled. “To be honest, I’ve had my suspicions. I thought you were just a shy SOLDIER.”

“You knew I was a SOLDIER?”

“Even with my eyes I can see yours glowing. You’re a large man, too, I can tell. It wasn’t too hard to figure out. But you’re famous! No wonder you keep tight lipped.” She smiled and gave Sephiroth’s hand a pat, which caused him to flinch. “To think, they said you were missing when you were sick in the hospital. Our secret then, eh?”

“Yes, our secret,” he agreed. He pulled his gloves back on, apparently wary of the old lady offering further hand pats.

She made some polite conversation with Cloud and got his name for good measure, then sent them both along on their way with two full cat carriers and well wishes.

---

Back at home, Cloud reclined on the couch, the wreckage of the coffee table cleared away. He would handle that later. He deserved a nap after the afternoon he’d had.

A dark brush in his peripheral vision and a twinge at the back of his mind told him that Sephiroth had already returned to bother him some more. Cloud hauled himself up to a standing position and readied his fists to knock his old adversary into next week. So much for the truce.

As he entered the kitchen, though, there was no sign of Sephiroth. All that had changed was the addition of a fresh carton of milk on the counter.

“At least put it in the fridge, asshole,” Cloud said to the empty kitchen as he picked up the carton and put it away.

Special thanks to @nautilusopus for the beta and @fury-brand for the original idea as well as the prompt that inspired this sequel.

#sephiroth #cloud strife #Final Fantasy VII fanfiction #ffvii fanfiction #enemies to frenemies #ffvii #sfw fic #sfw #comedy #humor #humour #body horror cw #fighting cw #broken bones cw #frenemies

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leonawriter · 6 years

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Those Under My Command

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Summary: Same AU as/semi-sequel to ‘To Write A Hero’.

The plus side to being of a higher rank in Shinra's army than Sephiroth for the time being was that even when he couldn't avoid being in the now-teenager's company, at least Cloud was the one in charge.

Small mercies, when he realises that the cause of his nightmares really is just a kid on a battlefield.

Cloud had normally been in command of Genesis' forces, something that had sat uneasily upon him at first, but after the first weird meeting where he'd looked around for an ex-SOLDIER First in a tattered red coat and recently cut but still sort of wild-looking hair, he'd needed a minute to recognise that the scrawny redhead in Second's reds with an attitude problem was Genesis. It was easy to fall into habits, but just as easy to forget, and treat the kid more like Denzel or any of the other kids he'd started to get to know after Geostigma had been healed by Aerith's rain.

He'd only had one mission of sorts with Angeal under his command so far, and he'd reminded Cloud of Zack - enough that sometimes, only seeing the sword attached to his back, Cloud had almost called out Zack's name, before remembering that Zack wasn't there, and this kid was someone else. Other than that, Angeal was probably the easiest to deal with. Mostly because he was new, and Cloud didn't know a damn thing about him. The fact that he actually listened was helpful too, though.

He's sat on the edge of base camp, wondering yet again who the hell thought any of this was a good idea - the war, the SOLDIERs, finding this damned Promised Land that the President wouldn't admit didn't exist - at least, not the way he wanted it to - or the time travel business, all of it, really - when a trooper came up to him, nervously, with a piece of paper in their hands.

"New orders, sir," and he absently noted the female voice as he nodded. "You're to take SOLDIER First Class Sephiroth's squad down the river."

Cloud's eyes narrowed, and although for a moment he tenses, wanting to snap as he feels the tension in the entire world hung on a thin thread, he breathes it all out in a sigh.

He hates it. He hates himself, for going along with it. But if he didn't, then... that would be just as bad as letting it all happen, and at least by being involved, he can make sure that casualties stay at a minimum. Both for Shinra, where most of these people didn't have a damn clue what they were even fighting for, and for Wutai.

He winces every time he remembers just who it is this war is against.

Sorry, Yuffie, he thinks to her, almost wishing she could hear him and understand. But if there's any way I can help this come out better than before... that doesn't make it better, though. It doesn't make it right. You'd probably hate me, and I can't say I'd blame you.

...

There's a trap laid in wait not far from the other side of the river, because of course Wutai had known that they were coming, because some of their people had been left behind, and even if nothing else Cloud was known for not leaving anyone behind. It was the least he could do, but sometimes, it really did come back to bite him - and he was never the only one affected by his decisions, now. As if there'd ever been a time when he was.

He'd been able to manage everyone into surviving, at least. Mostly helped by the fact that with Sephiroth under his command - and wasn't that something that he'd never thought would come up - most of the people they went up against who tried to kill them, ended up dead.

It was hard to watch. Both because he knew that the people who were dying were just trying to protect their homeland, and because every time Sephiroth fought, Cloud could see glimpses of the nightmare that he would one day become.

The only consolations were that at fifteen years old, Sephiroth was, like Genesis, shorter, although it was was more long, gangling limbs that anyone else would barely know what to do with, slightly shorter hair, and the fact that not only was the trademark coat gone, but he was wearing the exact same First uniform that he'd remembered Zack wearing.

The same one they'd tried to get him to wear, once they'd worn him down to the idea of working for Shinra, or thought they had.

The other thing that separated past and future, was the fact that Masamune was nowhere in sight yet, and although up until now that had been a relief, because it was hard enough watching the boy who'd grow into someone he still had nightmares about-

He only just caught a trace of panic that wasn't his own echoing in his mind, filtering past all of the blocks and barriers he'd put up, a mental link that given his body was still the same one from the future he'd come from, still existed, or existed once more. The details didn't exactly matter when he noticed what the situation was at a glance, a ninja having gotten close enough, Sephiroth having misjudged his strike, and Cloud could see what would happen next almost like a vision.

Instead of letting the opening be taken advantage of however, he found himself having moved fast enough that there was still dust flying in the air between where he was and where he had been, his sword blocking the strike that would have found its way into Sephiroth's side.

The Wutai ninja took a little more to fall, unconscious more due to the mastered Sleep materia Cloud had taken to carrying with him than the blows to his body or head, and then Cloud had turned to Sephiroth.

Not the Nightmare. Not the Calamity. Not even a Remnant.

He was just... a kid.

"Next time you run into trouble, don't just deal with it on your own." Tifa, you'd probably smile at that. And then call me a hypocrite. He almost wished she were there right here and now, but she'd probably have found it harder to get over the fact that this was Sephiroth. Not that Cloud had found it easy himself. "Maybe when you're with other units you're a big deal, but when you're with me, you're under my command, and you're my responsibility."

The look Sephiroth gave him was cool, cold, and if he hadn't felt that swell of panic earlier, then it would have shown perfectly how disdainful the boy found being spoken to like this was.

"I didn't need to be saved," Sephiroth said, standing up without accepting the hand Cloud had held out. "And if I had been injured, then it hardly would have been a serious incident. I would have prevailed, and your concern is well-meaning, but misplaced."

Cloud sighed as the teenaged future silver general walked off, leaving him to wonder what to do with an unconscious Wutai ninja.

...

The next time he sees Sephiroth is actually later that day, because he'd done something he'd have assumed he'd gone crazy for if he'd told himself just a few days ago that he would - he'd actually called for Sephiroth to come to him.

"Sir."

And, of course, now that the silver-haired demon of Wutai was here, he didn't even know the words for what he wanted to say.

Cloud sighed, and shook his head.

"Do you... even know why I was worried back there?"

Sephiroth frowned.

"Honestly, no." Cloud closed his eyes. Perhaps this would be easier if he pretended it was any one of the other SOLDIERs that he'd had under him at any time. Any of them. "We've never truly met before this mission, and you seemed to be avoiding my presence for some reason, even though Genesis and Angeal both said that you were a decent military strategist and leader. I had assumed that you held some grudge against me."

Some grudge, he thought, if that isn't ironic, I don't know what is. Tifa would be right - I am a hypocrite. I can't just help someone half-heartedly, after all.

"I said back there," Cloud said slowly, picking his worlds carefully, "while you're under my command, you're my responsibility. I didn't just mean you, either. I meant everyone. All those troopers, all those Seconds and Thirds. I'm the leader, at least, I am here... so that means I look after everyone, and make sure we all get back to base. And if I see something going wrong, I step in. That's what the leader's supposed to do."

Sephiroth didn't say anything for a minute, the frown on his face not lessening one bit.

"We are of equal rank within the SOLDIER program, despite you, as far as I know, having only appeared some months ago. I'm going to be promoted soon, as well. At which point, you will no longer have any command over me."

Teenage Sephiroth-speak for 'I'm not a kid, don't treat me like one', huh? The thought almost made him laugh, and he shoved it down and out of the way to poke at later. He recognised it all too well from Denzel, and several of the other kids, too.

"If I hadn't stepped in, you'd have been stabbed in your side the moment your balance was off, because you'd misjudged your reach," he said bluntly. Sephiroth's eyes widened a fraction - just enough to know that the message had got through. "You're used to wielding weapons bigger than you are, aren't you?"

The question had come out softly, because this was, if he'd admit it, the first time he'd ever thought of this. All of the different parts of Sephiroth's childhood, and everything that had contributed to what made him who he was, and he hadn't thought of this one thing in particular before.

He hardly needed to see the slight, almost imperceptible nod, in order to know that it was there. The emotions burned through him in an instant of rage and shame born of frustration and who does this man think he is, seeing right through me like that? before the heady feelings died down.

"There was no reason to train me in smaller, weaker weapons when I would simply have to unlearn how they handled as soon as I moved on to the real thing."

Cloud nodded, seeing how that could have happened. And also in understanding, since moving from the Buster Sword to something smaller and shorter had always created issues; that was why he'd had the Fusion Sword made.

"You need something with longer reach, or you need to train yourself out of those habits," he said with a vague feeling of detached horror at the words. What was he even saying. As if he needed this younger Sephiroth becoming even more like the one he remembered. "And you need to stop underestimating people."

The slight change in expression told Cloud that what he was getting for that remark was nothing more than just sheer stubbornness.

"I do not."

He didn't even bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"You think you're the best they've ever made, and that makes you untouchable. It doesn't. No one's that powerful. All it takes is a moment when you're off your guard. That's all."

Sephiroth, with Jenova's head cradled under his arm, not even looking at the trooper or paying him any attention even though Cloud had picked up Zack's Buster Sword, adrenaline helping him carry it and then to stab the man he'd once thought of as a hero. Sephiroth, turning around in shock.

Sephiroth, so certain of victory that he couldn't even be bothered to go full out, only to end up dead once again, fading back into the lifestream.

Sephiroth, the kid-

"And that's when they strike."

Cloud shrugged, trying to dispel the uncomfortable memories.

"That's... when you let someone else help. And not always in a fight, either."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, then."

Maybe this'll make a difference. Maybe it won't. But I can't just not do anything, even if he is... Sephiroth.

Who'd now decided that the discussion was over, and was walking back to the door of the tent. Stopped, and half turned around, his silver hair mostly hiding his face in an all too familiar way.

"Hojo - and the others - still want to know how you defeated me when we first... met."

"Hojo," Cloud said, not bothering to hide how much even the name of the man disgusted him, "can come out here and fight me himself, if he wants to know that badly."

And they can take him home in body bags when I've done, just to make sure he doesn't come back like the cockroach he is.

He almost missed Sephiroth's head nodding again, and an odd noise that might have been a laugh.

#ff7 #final fantasy vii #ff7 stuff #commander strife verse #Leona fic #as I said on AO3 there's another bit I'm still wondering if I'm gonna add

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