Chapter Text
CHAPTER 7
He brought Tsurugi around, twisting his body like a compass to find the source. Dread rattled through him, the darkness gripping at his chest with a clawed hand closing around his heart.
A few moments later he heard it — the gentle swish of feathers as they moved through the air. The hairs on the back of his neck rose in response. He steeled himself, ignoring the growing dismay inside.
A blend of silver and black caught the corner of his eye and he pivoted on his heel to meet him. He brought his sword to the side on instinct, the muscle memory already starting collecting mana for a charged blade beam. The energy pulsed blue along the blade, filling the space in front of the church with a blinding light as it released.
Sephiroth dodged it smoothly, his wing folding in, dropping him to the ground in one fluid movement. Then it was fading, disappearing into mist as if it had never been there at all; the scatter black feathers dissolved around them like ash on the wind.
“Can’t you just—” Cloud ground out between surges of pain, one hand moving from his sword hilt to grip his head again with a wince. “Just leave me alone?!”
Why did his head hurt more? This wasn’t right.
Something wasn’t right.
“I don’t think that’s what you need right now, Cloud.”
“And how the fuck would you know what I need?” He hissed back, glaring. If he wasn’t afraid of destroying part of the Church, he would have charged with another attack already. But they were too close, too close, too close. And even if Aerith wouldn’t blame him for doing harm to the place, he would never forgive himself anyway.
Hadn’t he done enough to her? Hadn’t he—
Was that his mind, or was Sephiroth getting closer? His vision was swimming, the pain dialed up to unbearable levels. He shuddered under it, clenching his teeth as he tried to focus.
The scent of mint and green tea laced through the air, soothing in a way that felt intimate and foreign all at once. Sephiroth’s scent, he realized in a disconnected way, and immediately wanted to retch at the thought. He would not be soothed; Cloud’s hackles went only higher in response. The black encroaching at the edges of his sight fizzled like hot coals, distracting from the blur of silver and black stepping closer.
Come now, Cloud, aren’t you happy to see me?
He snapped his eyes around, looking for the source.
He knew it.
He knew it.
He was here.
Cloud focused his eyes enough to track Sephiroth again, following his movements with a wary sense of foreboding. He was only a few strides away — hands up and empty — outstretched in front of him in a gesture Cloud couldn’t place. His face looked wrong… he realized belatedly; what was that look?
Placating.
He couldn’t remember Sephiroth ever having an expression like it. He was too used to the smugness, the indifference, or the snarl of shock and frustration when Sephiroth finally knew he was going to lose. But never… this. Whatever this was.
“I said leave!” Cloud howled out, panic rising. A burst of Thundaga ripped from his hand so fast he barely had time to think before it had already been summoned — crashing bolts around them as static tingled along his every nerve. It tore apart the ground, narrowly missing the spire he and Zack had spoken at just the night before.
Then he heard Sephiroth sigh, something world weary in a way Cloud had never heard come from the man before. “The only thing that stops Jenova are pack bonds, Cloud. I’m here because I felt it — I felt you needing help.” He raised his hands again, waving them, showing again they were empty like it was a point Cloud had somehow missed. “You don’t have to tolerate me long, just until we can get one of the others here to help.”
“And why would you want to help?” he growled back. Sephiroth’s help always came in one flavor: manipulative. Like hells he was accepting anything the man offered. He would die long before he fell for it again. He almost wanted to laugh that Sephiroth would make the effort.
Oh Cloud, giving up so soon? Or still waiting for others to fight your battles for you?
“If you want to use that time to kill me,” Sephiroth ignored his comment, continuing on evenly,“so be it, but I was already out on an errand. I don’t have Masamune on me.” Cloud’s eyes darted back to the man, searching for the sword.
“Do you think I’m dumb, motherfucker? I know you can just summon it.”
He realized he was getting distracted again. Why was he even talking to him? He pivoted again, pulling at the genetic strings that had been so helpfully placed inside him for this very thing. It tightened in response to his attention, wrapped around his throat like a garrote. It hurt to even acknowledge it was still there at all. He gave it a tug halfheartedly.
Sephiroth looked perplexed, dropping his hands from their position of surrender, clearly aborting whatever soothing attempt he had been trying. His expression changed to one of sheer curiosity. “How would one summon a sword?”
Cloud wasn’t sure if it was a redirection, but it stuttered in his mind all the same. He didn’t know the answer, but it had never mattered to know. The man always seemed to do it — against all odds of possibility — the thing materializing in a swirl of smoke just in time to stab him with it. It was an inevitable truth of fighting with Sephiroth, he was never unarmed.
Was that only after he had died, though? Was that after the first, or second time he had killed him? A hysterical laugh bubbled up his closed throat, spilling over like a sob. Had he even killed him yet in this world? Did it matter anymore that he hadn’t?
He was at square one, and out of time to figure out the next steps to take. The despair threatened to overtake him right then and there, and the darkness at the edge of his mind hummed excitedly, expectantly, hungrily.
Why fight it? You know you’ll always lose to me in the end. I own you.
If his sword hand was shaking, he was ignoring it. He bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood, centering himself on it. Sephiroth and blood went together like the thunder before a lightning strike — one always foretold the other. The copped tang overrode the scent of Sephiroth and his own distressed, sour scent in the air. It pushed back the creeping edges of Jenova just a little for his sight to focus better.
Sephiroth waited patiently, though his brows pulled together ever so slightly as if he was concerned by the scent of blood. It was laughable to think, seeing as he was usually the cause of blood wherever he went — especially when Cloud was involved. “Perhaps our rematch can wait for another time. Maybe when… you’re in better health.”
There’s no one else for you to hide behind now. Your friends are gone, your allies are nothing.
The voice echoed in his head like a soothing purr, but it brought with it a mental barrage of agony. The hand that struck and mocked him, attempting to subdue and lure him at the same time. It expected him to just comply, to take the beating as his ‘punishment’ for resisting at all, and come quietly just to make it stop. But that wasn’t Cloud’s style, not anymore.
It’ll all go away if you just let me—”
“I said SHUT UP!” He bit the words out, but realized something else at the same moment.
Cloud hadn’t felt the pull of Reunion quite like this since his arrival in this new world. He hadn’t felt the inevitable hum that was unique only to Sephiroth’s pull. It was one of the first things he noticed, even, when meeting the man at the gate that day. And yet every day it had been growing louder and more ominous, now reaching a crescendo around his mind.
He tugged at the bond again, the one which felt coated in black ichor — burning to the touch with it’s intensity. He recognized it well; it was the one thing he loathed more than anything else, this tie to Jenova. However, it had been masking another bond behind it.
He reached for it now, the hidden one, tugging at it instead. In his mind’s eye, they almost merged, running so closely together. This new bond, though, was intertwined with a different source, threaded with silver light that faintly shone from its core. It was a gentle thing, like the soft grey of spider silk or a doves wing. It wasn’t even that easy to see without the light shining on it just right.
They were distinctly different; and how it had taken him so long to notice was nearly embarrassing to realize. This world’s bonds, he accepted now, were different in some way. He didn’t know much, but he thought he could use that difference to tell where to strike.
He had to get it right the first time. There would not be any chances after. Sephiroth didn’t allow for mistakes.
He shifted his stance again, squaring up directly against the General.
Cloud’s eyes sharpened, narrowing into a glare. If he squinted, just right in this light, he could see the image of Sephiroth was doubled. A silver sheen to his outline hid something else in it’s shadow, and he could see it just at the edge. In his vision, it was like an after burn of the man’s every movement was flowing through the air behind him with the smallest amount of stuttering lag behind it.
It wasn’t much, just slightly off time from the rest of him — as if it wasn’t sure what the real Sephiroth would do next and was trying to keep up to go unnoticed. Cloud wasn’t sure he would have even seen it at all if it weren’t for his enhancements.
He readied his sword hands again, adjusting the grip slightly, exhaling out the pain that threatened to bring him to his knees. Not now, not today. He would fight it with his last breath — anything but bow before the throne of this monstrous demigod.
Sephiroth’s eyes widened in sync with Cloud’s steeled resolve. He seemed to recognize that lethal, calculating look for what it was. Smart man. Cloud released a slow, steadying breath. In the next moment, he released the coiled tension from his legs, sword arcing high and singing as it sliced through the Midgar air.
“MOVE.” Cloud said it like a command, a final sentence, a signed death warrant on the dotted line. At the same time, he tugged at that darker bond, feeling the festering ooze of it respond in turn. The greedy hunger of its attention turned towards him, clinging to his fingers and pulling back, draining his very being in the milliseconds he held on to it.
Tsurugi sliced down, clean and true, just millimeters from Sephiroth’s head. He had listened and already been diving out of the way. Yet still there was resistance that met the sword, even though there was nothing physically there to hit. It rang out with a deafening screech, the violet hues writhing as the root like ties were sliced clean from their host.
He heard Sephiroth give a sharp inhale behind him, finally seeing what Cloud had been after.
There was a flash of red from the corner of his eye, and he spared only a quick glance to see Sephiroth holding out a Pheonix and a mastered Fire materia next to it.
“I knew you wouldn’t go anywhere unarmed,” Cloud snorted at the sight, but the humor didn’t reach his heart.
“Of course not. I’m not a cretin. I would never be with no weapon at all.” Sephiroth scoffed at the very concept, before adding on, “I just… was not willing to use them against you.”
Was that… sheepishness? Cloud nearly turned to look at him just to see the man’s expression and be sure. But the hazy, transparent miasma had taken a new yet familiar shape, and Cloud’s throat squeezed shut in response.
A Second Sephiroth stepped out of the center, all long limbs and darkness, confident turquoise eyes holding Cloud’s gaze like a predator locking on to it’s prey.
Sephiroth was graceful like a tornado touching down on the open plains, mesmerizing like a panther — his every movement flowing with the promise of lethality for any that dared move from their hiding spot. Cloud felt trapped by it, cornered suddenly, and the pressure from the intensity was pinning him in place.
The Sephiroth from his side, however, was not so enthralled, and only spurred on by what was more than likely disgust at the scene. The green sphere in his palm flashed, and a pillar of fire erupted in the spot before them. The Firaga burned Cloud’s eyes, forced to blink and look away from that hypnotic stare. The broken eye contact let him finally stumble backwards, away from the inferno.
Masamune flashed in front of him, swiping the flames away like they were not more than an annoyance. A candle to be snuffed, and not the highest fire spell they had access to.
His smug look was fixed in place, eyes watching him with a mockery of mirth. “So good to see you again, Cloud.” The words weren’t just heard; they were felt — vibrating with a sickening resonance. The cells Jenova had burrowed into like a tick acted as a conduit for the voice, and it echoed long past when it should have stopped. He could feel the man next to him tense under its invasion. Cloud was slightly surprised Sephiroth could see this all too, though he was the only other one with the highest concentration of J-cells in the area, so maybe he wasn’t. Maybe it was a hallucination, and they were sharing it through that sickening black thread Jenova called a bond.
Cloud swallowed, finding himself suddenly numb. His chest filled with nothing but grim determination at the scene — resigned now that his worst fears were confirmed. Sephiroth was inevitable; he knew better than to doubt that even for a moment.
“What are you even doing here?” he said in way of introduction, his voice steely. The fire still burned around them, choking him in a way that had nothing to do with the present and everything to do with another town, another night, with the same man framed by flames, the air punctuated by the sound of his mother’s screams—
”Surely you didn’t think you could escape me, Cloud.” The apparition’s mouth tilted up at the corners, his face too perfect to have a wrinkle of amusement, but it was there in his eyes all the same. That feeling resonated down the bond, taunting him, letting him know he was little more than a mouse, futilely struggling in an already sprung trap. ”Have you still not learned who your master is?”
“You’re not even real,” Cloud spat, knowing at least this to be true. Sephiroth was here, but he wasn’t here. This was some cruel trick of the mind, a manipulation of Jenova’s thrall maybe, but not real. If Sephiroth had truly been here, he would have brought his sword up to meet Tsurugi already. They’d be halfway to the Wastes, clashing under an empty sky, splattering the barren ground with blood like a cruel painting. Sephiroth didn’t stall, it wasn’t in his nature despite his propensity for monologuing — he wouldn’t stall unless he had no other choice.
”Oh? You think so?” A lazy, catlike smile finally spread across his face. Cloud felt a hollow pang in his chest at the sight, a tightness right between his ribs under a twice healed scar. The ghost’s hand outstretched, inviting him closer. It reminded Cloud of those biology texts from Denzel’s homework; he was like an angler fish luring prey with false promises and soothing light, right into a deeply fanged smile. ”Would you like to change that, Cloud?”
His name was always said like a curse, like a caress, and Cloud hated hearing it at all when coming from Sephiroth’s mouth. He gritted his teeth, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain of his grip. “Not really, no.” He glanced sideways at the other Sephiroth — Seph, Zack had called him — and found him frozen in time. Cloud’s sky blue mako eyes were snapping between the two. He watched the spector step closer, pinning him in place with a trance from the Jenova cells and those glowing, slitted eyes.
“What a shame. Well, if you don’t want to celebrate our reunion… I’m sure I can find a new guest.”
Cloud was moving forward in a blur, swiping ice along the edge of his blade and cutting through the remaining fire, through to the ghost’s fragile form. The phosphorescent mist displaced for a moment again, too thin to make a shape again in the air for a moment. Cloud took the opportunity, turning on the ball of his boot, dashing to grab the living Sephiroth by the elbow and hauling him behind. They were flew around junk piles and up the church stairs in the span of a few seconds.
Seph looked dazed, blinking rapidly as he stumbled along behind Cloud. He kicked open the doors in time to see the Jenova fueled nightmare start to fizzle back to life, its joints snapping and reassembling without real sound. A kicked marionette, standing up again when it’s strings were jerked. It’s eyes twisted around until it was sharp on them again as it’s focus. Seph, who he realized belatedly he still held onto, made a slightly horrified choking sound. Cloud found he agreed, and he shoved the man through the door, stepping in behind just in time to slam it shut.
The demon banged against the doors, rattling them so hard in the frame Cloud worried if they’d hold. It was howling again, its anguish punctuating the day with inhuman sounds as it writhed back and away, reduced to mist and ash without a J-cell rich host to latch onto.
They panted for a moment, leaning into the resulting quiet within the church. For a few minutes they were silent, and the only sounds they could hear were their own franticly beating hearts gradually returning to something resembling normal.
“We’re safe here, I think.” Cloud said, finally straightening. “The church is sacred ground for the Lifestream.” He waved a hand around it vaguely, probably not clarifying anything at all with the gesture. “It’s why I sleep here. Mostly.”
“What—… What was that?” Sephiroth finally stumbled to the side, clutching his head. He sat down heavily on a pew, the wood creaking in response. “Why did it look like that?”
“Jenova shapeshifts.” Cloud spoke over his shoulder, finally striding closer to the center of the nave. He sat himself in a spot facing the doors, but close to the flowers. Mostly it was for him to ground himself along the soothing touch of the Lifestream. Its power was real, and just like when Holy was summoned to repel Meteor, it protected this place in a way that made it impossible for Jenova to fully enter.
“You said it wasn’t real, though. And Jenova is real.” Sephiroth looked at him pointedly. “If it isn’t real, how did you know it was there? How did you fight it? Explain.”
“Have you really never felt Jenova before?” Cloud raised his eyebrows in surprise. Had everyone else really just had a relatively peaceful experience, except him? Maybe it came with Sephiroth’s attention more than Jenova’s.
Sephiroth took only a moment to think, but shook his head just once. “Not like that. We’ve seen the degradation happen, but it’s like a disease. A madness that takes over, at its worst.” He stood then, striding closer to where Cloud had hunkered down on the floor. “But it’s never been… sentient. Nor directed and malicious, not like that.”
“Well, that part I can at least help explain,” Cloud exhaled, looking away as the other’s approach sent his heart rate back up again. Stupid instincts. Saving him one moment and afraid to be close to him the next?
Sephiroth, thankfully having probably scented Cloud’s unease, took a seat a few rows away. His eyes, however, lost none of their intensity of curiosity. It was that hungry look in his expression — the one that always wanted more from Cloud than he was ever willing to give, but was ready to do whatever he could to take it, anyway.
“In my world… you— I don’t know.” He hesitated, suddenly feeling unsure about this entire conversation.
“Cloud, be honest with me. I know what it is I saw out there,” Sephiroth said dryly. “I’m assuming things went terribly wrong, wherever you came from.” Cloud could see that some of the questions that were burning in Sephiroth’s mind had been partially answered. Whether it was because Cloud didn’t hate him specifically, or just the existence of a double who could make Cloud hate him by proxy, he wasn’t sure.
Cloud swallowed, nodding and steadying his resolve. It was going to come up at some point, regardless, did it matter whether it was now or later. “Something happened when you got too close to Jenova. You could hear her call, I think. And Hojo left you notes about it in the Shinra Manor basement. Trying to push you closer to the edge I think. The things that he wrote… I read them later, they were just blatantly wrong. Words to rob you of your humanity.” They locked eyes across the distance. Cloud’s hand brushed the edge of a petal, echoing the movement Aerith had done when she told him the story of her people. Grounding him in the present, hoping the flames in his peripheral stayed away. “So you believed what research you read. And… stopped being human.” Cloud shrugged at that. He couldn’t give any more details on what had gone through the General’s mind to lead up to his fall from grace, but he could guess, based on the end results.
They were quiet for a few moments, Sephiroth contemplative, seeming to turn over the words in his mind. “That nearly happened here, too.”
Cloud’s attention snapped up at that, alarm bells ringing through his nerves like lightning bolts.
“But… Genesis and Angeal pulled me back. Brought me into their world, and showed me how much more to a human life there was.” He looked distant, eventually rising to move. Cloud felt restless at it himself, contemplating the fork in the road destiny had granted him in this world. The result was dramatic there, and he wasn’t even the one who had become a parasetic demi-god.
How would his own fate have changed if someone, anyone, had been able to reach Sephiroth on those nights when he had locked himself away in that basement?
“Wait, are you… wearing sweatpants?” Cloud said, slightly affronted but belatedly realizing he was derailing the entire course of conversation. He didn’t exactly regret it, though. Now that he wasn’t battling against an inner tide of anxiety, he took a moment to look closer at the man. Sephiroth’s hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, with the long bangs still framing his face; they style hid the change at first glance. His clothes were still black, but more casual — not the patterns or materials of a typical high ranking SOLDIER uniform.
It probably wouldn’t have come as such a shock if he had bothered to look any sooner, but it felt like Jenova had been clogging every synapse he had access to until a few minutes ago. He couldn’t really be blamed for the oversight — not when he was focused on trying to stay alive for few extra minutes.
“… Yes?” Sephiroth replied from where he now leaned against a pillar, only slightly closer to the flower bed. The sunlight was gentle today, its harsh midday glare softened by the plate. It made him appear more realistic, the sharpness of his nose and jaw less pronounced. The light playing across his features, and without his standard leather uniform, he looked human. It was more human that Cloud had ever had a chance to see him as. He realized most of what he knew about Sephiroth had been postmortum, after running him through with the unforgiving edge of Zack’s Buster.
“It… suits you, I think.” Cloud added, quietly. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him, and he took that as a sign to elaborate. “Well, at least you don’t look like a walking Shinra advertisement this way.”
Sephiroth said nothing for a while, shifting his turquoise eyes away and to the ground. He had noticed that the man did that more often now — looking away so as not to stare too long.
Maybe he had felt the consuming intensity of the gaze from the other Sephiroth, and reached a reasonable conclusion on why it made Cloud’s skin itch and his sword hand tighten. Either way, Cloud wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth by asking.
Cloud took the time to busy himself, kneeling by the flowerbed and pulling a sword cleaning kit from under a nearby pew. He still hadn’t had an opportunity to get all the gunk from out between the gears, so he focused on it now.
“They controlled everything about me for a long time.” Sephiroth’s voice eventually cut through the air again, but calmly, like a man carefully dissecting a vegetable instead of Cloud’s liver. “What I ate, what I wore, who I could speak to, what I could do in my ‘free time’.” He didn’t sneer visibly, but the subtle frustration leaked into his voice.
“What changed that?” Cloud prompted, swiping at the mechanism to pull apart the puzzle like pieces of Tsurugi, starting on the largest piece first. The repetitive motions lessened the sour pitch smell that still hung in the surrounding air.
“Genesis and Angeal, again, actually.” Sephiroth huffed, tilting his head back as he gazed up at the rafters. “I couldn’t disobey Hojo. That instinct had been trained out of me early on. But they could… and they did. He was not their maker, and had no real direct power over them or their care without being seen as meddling with another scientist’s projects.
“I still worried about them invoking his ire, none the less. One day going to far for me, and falling into his hands.” His eyes closed, and Cloud found himself momentarily captivated by the sight of him so… exposed. Defenseless. Worried. He’d never seen the General with any expression beyond bland indifference — or psychotic delight.
He shook his head, blinking away the vulnerability he wasn’t sure he wanted to be seeing on his enemy. Even if… they had found some sort of truce here in the church. If Jenova grabbed him again, it would still be Cloud’s hand forced to finish the job, there was no way around that. He didn’t want to relate.
“They showed me what it was like to have something more than a mission. To be more than a project, a box of achievements to check off the list for Hojo.” Sephiroth smiled, just a little, the expression tugging at the corner of his lips. “They dragged me along to try new things, learn about the world, find a way outside of those lab walls. And through the bond… I knew I could trust them.” He lowered his head again, growing quieter behind long curtain like bangs. “Still, I feared that attachment. Shinra had taken so much away. I was afraid to call anything ‘mine’ would just be like putting a target on their back myself.”
Cloud kept quiet, intrigued by the questions that rose to the back of his mind. The ‘what ifs’. Could the Sephiroth from his world have faced similar… treatment? Cloud only knew him as the lauded war hero, the shining jewel centered on the president’s crown. Then again, his first act in the afterlife had been to run the President through, pinning him to his very desk. That certainly didn’t speak well about their relationship.
It felt… unfair, now, to compare this Sephiroth — one who wore his hair up and worried about his soul mates — to the one who entwined with Jenova into something horrible and haunting. Now, if only he could get his body to believe that.
Did he even have Genesis or Angeal, to see as peers back then? Cloud didn’t know. He couldn’t remember anything really from ‘the before’ days. And even what he could remember, he couldn’t trust to not just be a Zack memory he’d adopted as his. He thought Zack of one or both of them, at some point in the labs. But it had been years down there… they spoke of many things.
Sephiroth’s even voice brought him out of his thoughts, his hands starting up again where he had unknowingly paused along treating the blade.“Eventually, I just… didn’t care anymore what Shinra thought. That was when Hojo had enough, and took me away from them. He couldn’t control them, but he could do whatever he wanted with ‘his subjects’. And by all rights, I was R&D property.”
Cloud couldn’t contain the disgusted sound he made. His nose wrinkled soon after at the forlorn cashmere-like scent of Sephiroth’s emotions as they hit him.
He could empathize with that, even if he didn’t want to. He had no small amount of experience being on the wrong side of legalities when it came to the R&D department. When you signed your life to Shinra, you signed away any of your rights to bodily autonomy. Of course, no one knew just what all that meant, that is until they had no other choice but to find out.
They were teenagers — barely old enough to be deciding what they wanted to do with their future, let alone signing paper or holding rifles at foreign ‘enemies’. And Shinra used their inexperience with the world to their full advantage. Certainly, their lack of knowledge in general didn’t help. Most were underplate kids or country bumpkins like himself or Zack. Hells, for most, Common probably wasn’t even their first language. No one knew the depth of the grief that would be the result.
And Sephiroth… had never even been granted that opportunity to say no. Not with Hojo for a father. He would bet gil it was never even a question at the dinner table… ‘What do you want to do when you grow up?’ There was probably never a chance, to become anything else — to think of his life as anything more than a weapon of war. Shinra property. Something sour twisted in Cloud’s gut. He tried not to think of Denzel, plopped on a battlefield, not being allowed to make friends or form healthy bonds either.
Then, how could Sephiroth trust anyone, after that? Cloud knew the dilemma too well, but even he had his Ma growing up.
When all your life was pain caused by the hands of others, kindness felt like a trap, a trick to get under your guard. It was a foreign thing, a luxury afforded to those with ‘normal’ lives.
A million questions flew through Cloud’s mind at once as he moved on to the next blade. The deeply serrated edge turned over and over in his hands, his eyes unfocused and unseeing.
He couldn’t help feeling like there were answers for him there, in more of Sephiroth’s story. And wasn’t that ironic? The one he hated — the one he avoided the most — perhaps knowing how to navigate his very situation the best.
But maybe, that was why he felt so unsure to begin with. Sephiroth here was an unknown — the demon you know versus the demon you don’t. He knew he couldn’t trust Sephiroth, and yet here Sephiroth was, trusting him. And while the benefit may be for his soul mates continued existence, it didn’t feel manipulative.
Some part of him protested at it, hissed at him from getting too calm. It would rather keep pretending he was fighting a battle worth winning than to acknowledge… maybe he was on the wrong side, now.
Him asking anything of Sephiroth felt contradictory, almost painful in the way his anxiety pulled back on his curiosity with shaking, silencing hands. The feeling of his pulse picked up again, like he was cornering himself with this argument. Was he ready for that? To give up what hatred had kept him going? To extend a hand in empathy instead of a sword?
It was unimaginably difficult. It was like tearing at the calloused walls of his own heart — the ones he had built after years and years of relentless manipulation from someone with the very same face. Could he risk it?
He pushed the feelings aside for now, emboldened by the safety of the Church’s familiar space. The church had shielded him repeatedly. Maybe, just maybe, this holy place — with its own sturdy walls and gentle light — could lend him its reassurance through this challenge, too. Maybe if he let down the walls just for a little while, they would still be there for him after.
“How did you…” He plunged forward, digging the cloth into the edges and grooves of the sword. His voice felt dry, the words tumbling and awkward. “You know, work through that? Zack said you killed Hojo, but afterwards…” He trailed off, uncertain what he was really asking.
If Shinra or Sephiroth of his world had taught him anything, it was that simply destroying that which hurt you wouldn’t just make the problem go away. How did his life change so much, to make the man before him instead of the one from his nightmares?
Sephiroth merely hummed in response, seeming to know what he was getting at. “It wasn’t easy. And… I never could have done it alone. I tried of course, at first. I insisted this was a problem like any other, and I just needed to work it out on my own.” His eyes found Cloud’s again, but it was brief, fleeting. “But they showed me a different way. And as loath as I was to admit it, it helped to have someone there to keep challenging my beliefs, to prove them wrong.”
He paused, considering his next words. “And I had to keep trying. Genesis calls it ‘keep showing up for casting calls,’ I guess. That each day is new — yesterday’s failures are not guarantees of today’s results.”
Cloud let out a small huff of amusement at the dramatic metaphor, something that suited easily what little of Genesis he had come to know. Understanding passed between them. It was quiet, just the smallest reverberation that ran along the silver thread he could feel as their bond.
It was a tentative thing — that bond. Fragile, and so inherently different from the possessive threads Jenova used that it was easy to see them apart now. The bonds they spoke of here — that Aerith insisted were valuable and important — they weren’t likely things used to control. They weren’t selfish or dominating; weren’t puppet strings tied to his hands, forcing his head to turn only towards Sephiroth and bind him to that overpowering will.
He could see it, how the dark goddess was doing an imitation of connection by creating the false bonds. Jenova used it only to hook into her prey and drag them back to her waiting, endlessly hungry maw.
Cloud noticed that as he became more aware of the distinction between the bonds — feeling his way through the darkness of his inner world for those parts that pulsed as ‘other’ — the headache had eased. The heaviness wasn’t weighing on his shoulders in the same way, and his movements had smoothed along the blade.
It was likely linked to how far Sephiroth was, how respectful he was being of Cloud’s discomfort. The boldness that had possessed him to grab the other in their flight for the Church was not held against him, not used as permission for expecting more of him. That, and Sephiroth was not dressed up for battle, not hovering possessively in the corner of his eye. He could look away, and the man would still be there. And wasn’t that a small comfort?
“Why do you stay, then? In Midgar… with Shinra, I mean.” Cloud felt it was a reasonable question. He knew he couldn’t stay in Nibelheim, too many memories haunting him. And if Sephiroth had been nothing but an object , a weapon, while in the Tower…
“Angeal says we can only create change from the inside. We are the leaders in Midgar among the military. If we were to defect, it would be chaos. And we would be no closer to the answers we need for degradation. The Tower has the resources we need.” Sephiroth sighed, an oddly resigned sound to come from someone who was known as the world’s strongest man. Maybe even the strongest still struggled with marital compromises.
“Okay, sure, stay in Midgar. But why work for them? Why the Tower?” Cloud could only imagine how seeing those lifeless walls felt when you were always under a microscope, either literally or figuratively, with Rufus and the Turks. “You know the Reactors are killing the Planet, right? They burn the Lifestream. Hojo may be dead, but every second, Shinra is giving Jenova the keys to the castle.”
Sephiroth pushed away from the pillar at that, moving only a few steps closer, hesitating to move further in his bubble. “I have read the papers on Planetology, and there isn’t enough research to back those claims they make. There are plenty of thriving towns centered around Reactors.”
Cloud’s eyes flashed, his scent turning harsh and frigid in his anger. “Really? You can’t be serious.” He snatched up another blade. “After all you’ve seen, you don’t notice how Midgar is a wasteland? It’s a monument of death and greed.”
Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at that. “There is nothing in the records to say it was once anything else.” His tone felt curious more than insulted, at least.
Cloud lifted an eyebrow back, all challenge. “And who wrote those records? Shinra paid archeologists, looking only for the ‘Promised Land’?”
Sephiroth did not reply right away, simply turning his ear towards the door as they both heard footsteps approach. “If you have proof of mako energy hastening degradation, I’m all ears. Otherwise, it will just have to wait.”
Cloud sighed, shaking his head. He supposed, if nothing else, Sephiroth was consistent in his single-minded focus.
There was a quiet knock on the door. Angeal peaked his head around the corner, eyebrows raised. “Well, no one’s dead,” he remarked dryly. Zack shoved past him down the aisle at a run. The scent of honey and violets and spring rain hit him in an overwhelming mix just before Zack did, nearly bowling him over with the force of his hug crushing his shoulders.
“You were missing, and Sephiroth didn’t come back from his errands, and we thought—” Zack rambled, and Cloud choked around a mouthful of spikes.
“Zack, ease up. I need to still need my arms working so I can finish up my sword—”
He heard more than saw Sephiroth and Angeal chuckling off to the side, their own reuniting hug more sedate.
It took an embarrassing amount of time — but eventually, Cloud disentangled himself enough from Zack’s enthusiastic hug in order to look them both in the eye. “Did either of you… — I don’t know — have anything weird happen while we were here?”
Angeal gave them both a curious glance, crossing his arms. “Not that I know of?” Zack gave a shake of his head, still buried in Cloud’s shoulder, not yet ready to come up for air. “We actually were coming by to hear more about Genesis’s plan for removing Jenova cells.”
“Good.” Cloud concluded, deciding now wasn’t the time to debrief on their ‘encounter’. Sephiroth looked no more interested than he did to elaborate on the suspicious question. “Well, let’s get to it.”