64/100: Sacrifice. Weakly implied Sephiroth/Genesis
I have been dead these last few weeks. Brain dead, that is, struck by writer's block once again.... probably exhaustion from the mad rush leading up to Global Sephesis Day, so if needs be, blame xlightfromabovex. Anyway, I was watching ACC clips a couple weeks back (thank god for Youtube)... as much as I love Zack, I love Genny more XD
Disclaimer: Yes, I did alter canon but the characters are still not mine. And if this had really have happened in the film, I think I would have imploded.
Sacrifice
Just One Wish
Fighting Sephiroth was never going to be easy. Cloud never expected it to be. He was a First Class SOLDIER. The best SOLDIER. The strongest, most powerful man on the planet.
Then there was Cloud. Nothing. A country boy from the mountains. Too frail to make it into SOLDIER. So feeble his own mind tricked and lied to him. Too pathetic to save his friend. And too weak to save them now.
They met in brief clashes of more than swords and magic for there was raw emotion behind each retrospective swing. Hate. Betrayal. Anguish. And the pain of the burden Cloud never asked for. Why was he the chosen one?
Sephiroth was as strong as he was renowned to be, and then more – power invested in him from the Calamity. Fast, lithe and focused but still able to purr mockery. He was nothing.
Every move he made proved to be a mistake. Build up of magic dispelled in a second by the thin blade of Masamune through his chest. A pain like before… like the reactor, like the mountains, like Nibelheim. The scent of burning was strong in his nostrils as he gasped for air with screaming lungs. As still Sephiroth stood, unaffected, save his amusement, below him. He wasn't even out of breath. Not a hair out of place; nothing betrayed his preternatural existence.
Somehow, Cloud knew what happened next: that one move that he knew so well from avid observation as well as first-hand experience. Flung into the black sky, he suffered eight consecutive slashes in midair. Each one equal, fast, deadly. Aimed to a precise place, to inflict the most damage. Though Cloud knew this time Sephiroth chose the most pain. He laughed, low and thickly as his blade danced viciously over Cloud's young body.
Would Sephiroth have to be beaten eight times, just so he would die once and for all, and purge the Planet of his repulsive, menacing presence? If so, who would fight him the last four times? Because if Cloud somehow managed to find the strength to out-do Sephiroth rather than just manage to meet up to him, he would never raise a sword against another again.
When he hit the solid ground once more, it was hard. The cold, thick metal of the ShinRa building, now serving as nothing but a skeletal reminder of the dark past, crumpled under the force. He coughed, painting the monotonous grey scarlet red. It was hard to stand from the agony inflicted upon him, cuts to his forearm increased that weight of Tsurugi. But he dare not cast cura, only to have Sephiroth pull the same move again and again and again until he couldn't take the soreness from laughing so much.
And all he wanted was to go peacefully… into that field of endless flowers, where Aerith was… where Zack was… where his mother was, and where he would finally be—
"It's a shame, isn't it?"
A voice mused with lament. Deep and harmonic, the intense emotion in it brought it a step closer to music. Cloud's eyes flashed open, azure meeting with nothing but stark white dotted with soft black specks. Ebony feathers. Then he felt the presence behind him, similar to Sephiroth's and yet so very different. Softer, subtler, but just as commanding. There was a sigh before the enigmatic being spoke again.
"Sephiroth used to be a symbol of strength and power, heroism, hope, security, greatness and lo—" He trailed off, shaking a head of vivid cinnamon hair as he smiled to himself. Cloud could see everything, even though it was simply displayed through a voice. And then that voice turned harder. "And now he's just a nightmare; a way to get unruly children to sleep at night. A waste, don't you think?"
Cloud frowned as he tried in vain to pin the voice down to someone he knew. But there were only vague flashes of memories he doubted were his.
"You never knew the real Sephiroth… but it wasn't this… Never." A rounded face, handsome sharp features, bright blue eyes and clothes of the richest crimson were all things that flashed into mind, descriptions he remembered hearing in Zack's voice through the haze of mako poisoning.
"I want you to do a favour for me, Cloud." There was a swish of leather as the man turned. A hand was laid upon the blonde's shoulder, pulling him back up, but still he was facing away. "Save Sephiroth, don't let Jenova wear his mask… insult his memory like this."
"Why?" Cloud asked quietly. He tried to turn back the man held him still.
A laugh sounded out, light and beautiful. Fading away. It was easy to see why Zack spoke of this man, whoever he may be, in such a fond way, considering what had happened between them, in the latter years of the black haired SOLDIER's life. "I think you know why."
Cloud found himself pushed back into the burning scene of Midgar, a new strength in his heart – a different motive and emotion lingering, as passionate as the hate that burned from his own being – a gift that was almost agonizing as he tore away Sephiroth's wings.