Touching Steel

by Thyme In Her Eyes

Author's Notes: Just to disclaim, I don't own these characters. Anyway, this is ficlet is another entry of mine for the CxA Forum's 100 Themes Contest, written for the theme "Sword". Enjoy, and please leave feedback.

-- TOUCHING STEEL --

In the end, it's too easy. His sword slices through Jenova's inhuman and foul body, severing flesh, cartilage and bewilderingly-placed bones effortlessly. The force behind him, the raw emotion pushing him forwards and tearing him to pieces, turns the fight into a slaughter but he's past caring or noticing that. All he wants is to keep fighting, to keep his mind and body fixed on lifting his blade, rushing, jumping and then swinging it in arcs at his opponent before bringing it down with devastating force. Flesh and muscle tear, and Cloud cleaves the rest apart with ease.

He keeps closer to the creature than he should, or would if this were a normal battle, not caring how much higher he's running the risk of being hurt. Physical counter-attacks lacerate him, but they fail to force his grip on his sword-hilt into loosening. Magical attacks tear through him till he can hardly keep going at such a pace, but as he falters and grabs his side and pain runs in sharp streaks all through his body, Cloud feels exactly how he wishes he always could. Alien blood spatters on his face, congeals in his hair, and soaks and stains his clothes, but it isn't her blood anymore and that's all that matters.

Cloud wishes it could be slower, that he could spend forever this way. He wishes that he could scream, that his arms could always burn with the effort of driving his blade forward and piercing the monster's core. He wishes it could take an endless journey of pain, fury and grief to push his sword all the way through Jenova's heart. Taking another cut, disappointment hollows him as his enemy's body gives easily and he feels his weapon slide through a tangle of flesh and vital veins as if it was nothing. The creature is weakening now, maybe dying, and all Cloud can do is desperately prolong the battle, hoping that with the next silver swing of the blade, less nerves will be cut. That maybe with the next blow he'll hit a sinew that will take a red and raging eternity to snap.

Again and again, as blood and tears he doesn't realize he's still shedding flow, he wishes he could push and push and never stop this burning. That he could drive the blade home forever; not breathing or thinking about anything except the scorching pain of his muscles and the heavy and aching feel of his weapon as it takes his revenge and plunges through the monster in his path.

But the battle doesn't last forever. The pain of water-magic chokes him one more time and then ceases altogether, and then it's only his own tears assaulting his skin and ripping through him. Rage and focus trickle away and he can't hide behind it anymore. His wounds are healed by concerned and heartbroken friends, and the pain rises and rises. Her death and the devastation of losing her collides with him again and the second impact is no kinder than the first.

He turns and the sight of Aeris' limp and broken body hits his eyes. Useless, his sword drops from his hands and clatters against the ground.

-- FIN --