A/N: this idea came from a roleplay with one of my current RP partners on Google+ (yeah, I have lame taste in social media) this incorporates little from the actual roleplay though. It's so convoluted at this point that basically, none of that will be included basically But we did something in the SefiKura section to sorta make them easier to roleplay as after a while of just countless issues and unsolvable clashes - namely, both of them got split into two because they had torn urges toward each other (though, Sephiroth did it intentionally and temporarily. Clouds is permanent.) So real quick, run down of the "splits'" names and personalities.

Cloud: the "original" Cloud. A feisty little spitfire, affectionately nicknamed "little shit" who constantly smarts off and starts fights, and rarely smiles.

Kura: (taken from the romaji "Kuraudo" also of note is it's similar in sound the the Japanese words kuro and kurai, or, black and darkness respectively. Kura itself means "treasure house" and as a name is considered is a bit...effeminate so it works.) more or less just plain old creepy ass puppet!Cloud. Except he's a bit… yandere. More than a bit.

Seph: the less evil one. Has bits of pre-nibelheim personality. He's still an ass, and still kinda cold hearted/cocky, but he's not playing the world like a giant chessboard or throwing space rock at it.

Firosu: (again, just taken from the name in romaji. But in this case, more because the "f" sound is sharper than "ph, and because of some chopping dialogue Cloud has in tactics. Just made sense in my head) is evil as all fuck. Will pretty much kill anyone who touches either cloud, as he has jealous tendencies (aka is a super high level yandere. To be fair, Cloud is a bit of a stalker so he falls into the yandere category too. Basically this is a foursome of Yanders, who are each a set of two alternate personalities of one or the other person) Also very murderous anyway. The sight and smell of things like blood, entrails, death, fire, fear etc excite him.

I do not own anything but the concept of the fic itself, which is shared.

Enjoy

-—_-—

Darkness. That is what he saw. That was almost all he had seen for months. And then he moved from his original darkness to a light. A strange one, a foreign one, not the light of his other self. He was floating somewhere, rather than simply locked in his own head, thrown away and hidden from the outside world. He'd seen the rest of himself be resurrected (and why would they shoot him? He didn't think they were supposed to) and of course, part of him was struck by guilt at the fact that he must've been left behind for a reason, but also, he felt slighted. Being removed from his own self was painful, and while the original didn't seem to know anything was missing, he felt the loss of his counterpart like an amputee does their missing limbs. Those two voices had continued to sound around him even after (He'd come to in the light then. Blindingly painful and glaring and hated.)

"We can fix him." Aerith whispered over his suspended consciousness. "As long as his taint can be removed, there's a chance." He opened his eyes, staring. The other side of him had spent two years pining over her, and he wasn't sure why. Girlish, small, so much pink on everything. And if he (master) hated her, then this mirror would too. She wasn't at all what he wanted. Neither was the other one there.

"We don't even know if he existed before then. Poor spike, I never knew he was this fucked up." Zack piped up. The small presence glared at him. He'd been there as long as his other half. He was as much the original as the other, he just took more to certain changes with the passing of time.

It went on for a week, Aerith pining over him like she thought he'd act like his other side. But they were as separate as they were the same. He held no love for her. He only loved one being, and he'd prayed since he woke to the blinding light that he would come for him. As it was he was stuck with worried brunettes and kindness that made no sense to him.

"I think we're making progress." Aerith would say sometimes, as though trying to convince herself. Zack would rarely fight her, but would stare at him sympathetically whenever she didn't look, muttering words such as "hopeless" and "poor kid." He didn't mind it much, (most of the time) understanding why he would, but it still irked him greatly on a subliminal level. He didn't want pity for being himself. But they just didn't understand that he was happier for his choices. So he went on the whole week mentally berating them and refusing to speak out of some weird concoction of hatred toward them, loyalty to him and his own rage at being treated like he was incapable of understanding himself. He knew who… no… what he was. So he sat and bore it, knowing one of these days he'd been rescued.

Then "one day" came. He heard something entirely different from the loathedhated voices he'd grown so used to. There was a sudden darkening of wherever it was they were residing (some part of the Lifestream he presumed but didn't know) that seemed to be caused by corruption of some kind, and it was so familiar to him that his nonexistent heart raced in excitement. Next came the words. Those fateful words that took him back to familiarity.

"Aerith… He's here." Zack had said. The split image didn't question who. He could feel it reverberating within himself, the undeniable need to be with this entity, the singing call that overtook him, familiarlovedunyielding. He swore that his breathless, no longer existing, lungs breathed the name softly out into the encroaching dark waiting to envelope him. He had only been in the light for a week, but he'd wished for this ceaselessly that whole duration, and seeing it now was "breathtaking" enough for him to almost serenade his whisper of that name.

"Sephiroth" was all he needed to say. There were no other words, as he had no doubts his own joy was shared as they pressed together. He could faintly hear those two pleading with him not to go, but since when had he cared for that...for them? They were his other half's friends, not his. He'd only ever had one purpose, one desire, and he had no hesitation or misunderstandings of it. He celebrated his rescue, happy to see the man hadn't shed his own memories just yet (as that was the only way to survive in this place) because it meant he was still remembered and appreciated, and because it meant he could admire the tall stature and feline features the man possessed, as those weren't cast off either (since he knew they had been last time). His staring was met with a smirk, one so familiar he felt his "heart" flutter.

"Good toy." Was purred into his ear. They were far enough away now that he couldn't hear those two over the thousands of voices, souls rushing past, around, through him, but he could see them sigh in disappointment as he leaned upward for the taller to kiss him. Those arms wrapped around him possessively as the man dragged him away.

A week later the man had asked him.

"Do you still feel your other half's thoughts and emotions at all?" He could see the real question in those eyes. Does he think of me often? They asked him, almost pleading (well demanding was more accurate) with their vivid intensity.

"I don't quite sense them a lot anymore, but I'm sure he misses you as much as I did." The gaze that met him seemed placated, but uncertain. "Surely you could just remind him to do so, besides." And that response was rewarded with a wide smirk.

""I could couldn't I?" The purred response came. It was only a year and a half later when they formed together, the location familiar. Icy wind blew at the top opening, miles and miles above them so secure in the deepest part of the crater.

He kept having dreams lately. They'd started a couple weeks from when he'd woken to light and Aerith's voice, then opened his eyes to the interior of the church. When he'd been denied death, after all his fighting. Given a second chance. At first, the dreams had been calming ones, Aerith and Zack waving at him. Then, there was a sudden shift. He didn't know why it always happened this way. He'd get comfortable in his life, and suddenly, the nightmares came back. Nightmares full of silver and black and acidic jade. Nightmares in which his loved ones all died while he was helpless to defend them, or, on other occasions, where he himself was the one to drive the blade into their neck. The dreams were always hyper realistic: he could feel sinew yield, bone snap, blood ooze or squirt onto him, warm and wet and sticky. He always woke up with a racing heart, that horrible voice echoing in his ear. What it said didn't matter, always some small praise, some utterance of that mocking nickname . What mattered was that the voice was back and that could not mean anything good. Never had before, at least. Which meant it couldn't be good now.

He was tired of running on little to no sleep, tired of what little sleep he got being so riddled with nightmares that he felt more tired when he woke. He'd been better for months after Aerith sent him back out, since he'd woken up in the church. But suddenly, things just… He growled, punching his pillow. It wasn't right. He was supposed to be whole now! It had been a year, the nightmares had come nine months prior. He'd been forced to move out, had gotten his own house in Edge to hide it, not wanting to make Tifa worry by hiding in the church again, not wanting to stay at the bar where she could see. It also meant there was no one here to see him in his current state. He sighed, mulling over the events of this particular nightmare.

In the nightmare, he'd fallen into a hole. Except, this one wasn't an ordinary hole, it was the crater. And down at the bottom, well, what could it have possibly been other than the very being haunting his sleep. The man had simply smirked at him. The familiar ringing in his head started. He walked forward. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't look away. The familiar sensation of losing control of himself was too much, and those eyes watched him with calculated amusement. Unlike the previous nightmares, there was no bloodshed. No dead friends. All that happened was a predatory grin coming down to claim his lips, and a voice saying "I'm back, doesn't that excite you?" and something told him the man didn't mean just in his head. That this was a proclamation that he had returned to life yet again. Cloud shuddered, the voices he'd forgotten being accustomed to flowing into his mind once more. (have to go. Have'ta go to him, to go there. Need to. Have to. Must)

He wasn't sure if he really trusted the dream, but… If it was true and he didn't check for him…well, he'd be screwed. Fucked. Most likely right in his already fragile mind until it shattered and he finally caved in. And that thought was precisely what found him in the Church an hour later, dappled colorful light streaming through the stained windows and dancing across his face. The pool of water from the rather powerful Great Gospel limit that Aerith emitted from the lifestream a year ago during that climactic battle was still clear and mostly untouched. He traced a finger along the top. The flowers' smell grew stronger.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't prevent him from leaving again." A gentle female voice whispered. He reached back, grabbing her ghost hand without much thought. "It's alright." He said. "I'll deal with it." She gave him a dainty hug before fading. He whispered out across the water. "Thank you."

"For what, silly?" He heard. He smiled faintly, hearing her echo her words from almost exactly a year ago, to the day.

"For not blaming me." He said gently, a tad of humor in his voice, love, sorrow, acceptance. "For helping me gain forgiveness from myself."

"Well, someone had to get the message across. You are rather dense at times, no matter how cute your pouty face is." A male voice answered for her.

"Zack, If you make a pass at me again, I might find a way to punch you through planes of existence."

"Love you too chocobo ass."

"Zack stop, this was a serious moment." But Aerith's tone was light, and her giggling voice, and the feeling of their presence faded, so he took the moment to gather his thoughts.

He decided to take a bottle with some of the water, as it retained all the power of her final limit. Something he might need to do this. The temporary invincibility and full healing properties of it would be extremely helpful at any rate, not to mention that it did a number on any cell mutations Sephiroth could throw at him. He was honestly amazed it did anything at all, since the cells themselves wouldn't go away, but it was useful all the same. And he had a theory it might have some very painful affects on the being himself, as he was the source of the corruptions that had caused the disease originally. Nodding to the memorial he left in the flower bed, saying a wistful "goodbye" to the two of them, he exited the ruined building, hopped on Fenrir, checked his compartments for the proper supplies, and drove off to Junon.

"You're other half is coming to us." The taller male whispered down. The mirror image of Cloud looked up.

"You think we can make him understand this time?" The blonde asked, tentative.

"Highly unlikely, as much as I would love for him to finally join us. No, I simply felt that you should be given your own name, as I can hardly call both of you Cloud. Afterall, I never had the chance to name you three years ago when I learned of your existence." The taller all but purred.

"I get to have my own name?" the smaller figure asked, wistful and anxious, clearly eager to learn his new name.

"Of course, even the simplest of toys still deserves a name. And you're my most useful one. A name is simply necessary by now." The explanation made a lot of sense to the small figure, as he nodded fervently in agreement, looking positively joyous. He felt honored to finally be given his own identity. "Does anything strike you?...Hm, I suppose not, you aren't at all creative, are you? But that's alright puppet, you don't need to be.." Pausing from his rambling to think, the silver haired male hummed, deep in thought. "Should be similar to your origin, hm? And have a sensible meaning. Cloud in wutaian is Kuraudo, did you know that? Kura would be sensible as a name for you. Do you like that name?" Kura, as he liked the name, nodded.

"It's perfect, master." He replied happily. He had his own name! He couldn't wait to tell his other half!

"Now, there is another matter. You are still quite nude, and I am unsure how to clothe you. As you have few preferences of your own, I have taken liberties to dress you after my own tastes. As your other side likes purple, but as of now no longer wears it, I have decided you should wear purple tops at all times, unless I give you one that is otherwise colored. I will create a facsimile of an outfit for you for now, until we can find you real clothes." And with a flourish, the shadows at their feet spiralled up to encompass his smaller companion, forming into tight leather shorts, and a loose, longsleeved purple sweater. Thigh high socks and clunky black boots made up the bottom, and around Kura's neck formed a leather collar with a metal hoop on the end, presumably for a leash. Apparently satisfied, Sephiroth motioned to a pool where Kura could view his own reflection, which the blonde promptly did. He smiled a little, thinking somewhere in the part of his mind that belonged more to his counterpart that he looked relatively doll-like. He smiled at his reflection happily, waiting for the arrival of the other, so he could show him.

"Ya mean to tell me ya drove two whole days and spent another on a boat ride jus' ta get here and ask for The Bronco? Shit blondie, shoulda just called and asked, I'da picked you up myself if I'd known.* The taller blonde scratched his head a little as he spoke, oil splotched shirt belying his previous activities as well the workbench of tools beside him could. An unlit, as of yet, cigarette bobbed in his mouth,

"I was in such a hurry to get here I completely forgot my phone. I didn't think about it really." Cloud answered, eyeing Cid. "Besides, Fenrir needed some good use like that. Gods know I needed the ride."

"Fuck, the speed you pulled up here sounded like you almost blew the engine. I'll lend ya the Bronco, but yer bike ain't flyin' in it. You leave fenrir with me, and I'll give 'em a tune up, eh? Get on you spikey ass." Cloud answered with a smile that didn't extend past his eyes. Actually smiling with his mouth was too expressive for him it seemed.

"Thanks Cid." He said, turning toward the small plane. "I mean it."

"Ah, don't mention it kid."

The flight proved longer than he remembered, but that could be because the recently repaired plane wasn't quite as fast as the Highwind or the Shera (it still warmed his heart that Cid and Shera had married after they got around their differences, and that he'd named his new ship after her.) The oceans north of rocket town were cold, and cold meant they produced more wind high up. At least, as he was piloting himself (Cid had taught him the basics) he was too distracted to get all that sick from the rocky motions of the plane fighting with the air currents. It improved slightly as he reached the northern continent, looking down to see the bone village in the middle of what appeared to be another excavation. (Odin's beard, the sheer amount of treasure he himself found there was overwhelming enough. What had that place been before?) he continued his path, slowing respectively over the sleeping forest, and glancing somberly at the Forgotten City. Knowing the Bronco needed a small break, he stopped in Icecicle. He refused to climb the glacier again, just stopped in the inn for something warm. Mead, chocolate, cider, it didn't matter. Just something warm and sugary that he could drink to lift his spirits before getting to the nitty gritty of the situation. In the end he settled for a warm cider, (the alcohol variety) and some food very similar to what his mom would've cooked for him as a child. (After all, settlers of Nibelheim had come from the cold northern lands, where rich fatty foods were key to survival.) Porridge with cabbage and roast meat wasn't the fanciest or best tasting meal he'd had, but it was warm, familiar, and welcome. The sweetness of the cider helped wash it down at any rate, and soon enough he was back in the Bronco.

He parked it right on the peak of the glacier, climbing down the last foot the the entrance of the crater, before sliding down. He navigated the caves entirely on memory, avoiding the dark dragons and master tonberries he came across until he reached the end of the normal part. With now aliens waiting for him, he jumped straight to the core, ignoring the Zombie dragon that meandered toward him. Sure enough, an all too familiar presence enveloped him before he reached the bottom, invisible forces easing him down and pulling him into the core where the man stood. The heart shaped platform in the center was dark, no trapped Holy spell to cast a light this time. He allowed his eyes to meet those poisonous emerald ones, as he was telekinetically placed on the same platform with the other entity. He heard shuffling behind him, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of the silver demon before him.

"What took you so long, Cloud?" Sephiroth drawled out in his normal sensual sounding purr of a voice. Cloud ignored him, getting right to the point.

"What do you want, Sephiroth?" He kept his voice level, bored. The man met him with a smirk, as per usual, flamboyantly raising his whole arm in a grandiose gesture Cloud had not even a guess as to the meaning of, before the same hand of that arm came forward to caress his face.

"Why must you always ask, as though you hope I might answer you differently. What I want, what I'm after hasn't change, Cloud. Only the means by which I intend to achieve it." For emphasis, the man brought forward his other hand, tossing an object in the air and catching it.. Cloud shuddered as he recognized the object. It was perfectly round, the deepest shade of black imaginable, and pulsed with a deep purple hue.

"Is that….?"

"Don't worry Cloud. I can not use it anymore. Merely here for the sheer nostalgia." With a chuckle, he threw it at the blonde, who reflexively caught it with ease. "And you, naturally, complete the picture. Hand it back over, Cloud."

"I'm not here to play your mind games. Get to the point." Cloud retorted.

"Now now, what's the fun in that? You're supposed to play along Cloud. Have you forgotten?" the hand on his cheek tightened, almost hostile. "I suppose I'll have to remind you, won't I?" Sensing immediate danger to his mind, and his personal free will, Cloud uncorked his canteen of holy water and threw it on the man before him, no noticing the smaller body that pulled him back as he did until after his head went fuzzy. The last thing he saw as he blinked out was...himself...but shorter. Barely five feet tall, and with eyes that looked more like the demon on the other side of the room. Then he knew nothing.