Nanaki had been aware of the difference between his and human lifespans for decades. With Bugenhagen's passing it had torn to the forefront of his mind, a persistent thought he'd found necessary to cordon off from the rest of his self by giving it its own name and identity. Now things were different. He would hesitate to say it was because he knew better; he had simply experienced many deaths that had been inevitable. There had been many elders among Cosmo Canyon's population once. It was almost an entirely different people now, but the elders lived on through the knowledge they'd passed down. There was some comfort in that, and in Vincent's keeping of his promise that they met once a year where Midgar's remains stood. Nanaki could already see the new life moving into the city in the form of plants he couldn't name. He imagined Aerith would have been pleased, if she didn't have a hand in their growth already. He could see that future when he ran up to a Midgar unrecognizable from now, but with Denah's return he knew he would not be running alone. The passing of time was no longer so dark.

And yet there was an uncomfortable frisson, an echo of the old fear, when he padded through the door and smelled the sickness in his friend. He forced himself past that and nudged the weathered hand that hung off the bed.

"Mm…? Nanaki." Cloud's voice was quiet as it had always been, but now there was a rasp to it. "You didn't have to come."

The way your son spoke on the phone, even you should know what is happening, Nanaki thought with a twitch of his tail, but held his tongue on the exasperation, mild in light of Cloud's circumstances.

"Thank you."

"This isn't a time you should be alone."

"I'm not." Nanaki knew this was true, as he had passed Denzel's family on the way in. Marlene was surely on her way as well. He also felt that Cloud was not so much arguing with his reason for being there as affirming something important to himself, even in that contrary way.

Cloud has always been contrary, so it's really no surprise.

His friend jerked violently as a coughing fit overtook him. Nanaki drew closer but waited it out, knowing there was little to be done for such a thing; however the closer proximity did draw his attention to something he thought he should have noticed sooner.

"You're trembling."

"I can't get warm enough…" Cloud made it sound like a mild exasperation, but at the same time his shaky fingers gripped another handful of blanket. Nanaki thought it must bother him very much. Though they continued talking neutrally, Cloud wondering aloud about the Canyon and Nanaki asking after Marlene and Denzel, each shiver and tremor was carefully noted by dark eyes. He would have to tell Denzel to get more blankets. But then he thought of Rin and Pazu, the Nibel cubs he had once cared for, and wondered if a different way might help more.

"I see," he said when Cloud paused in a story about his grandchild, and added "Excuse me," before putting both his front paws up on the bed. Good. There was just enough space.

Cloud laughed once, soft and surprised. "What are you doing?"

The forepaws halted. "I simply thought…"

"…Jump up. It'll hold."

The bed creaked as Nanaki's hind legs propelled him on but indeed held. Cloud pulled his arm back and Nanaki laid down by his side, flicking the brilliant warmth of his tail directly between them. The changes in his friend were even more apparent up close. His chest looked sunken and frail, and his skin was paper thin. His eyes were rheumy, though the irises still shone brilliantly. Other changes were not so abrupt: his hair had dulled to white and grown a bit long over the years, and time had softened his expression, too. Those changes, Nanaki was used to. He was still Cloud. But time moved differently for humans. Cloud was nearing the end of his life, while Nanaki was still in his prime.

His friend didn't seem concerned by this kind of thought, instead simply curling toward the warmth with a small sigh. He had to be tired of trying to be strong. At least this much could be done for him.
"A little like last time…"

Nanaki had no idea what he was talking about at first. They had never laid next to each other like this except—once. A very long time past. "You're thinking of that?"

Decades ago, early in AVALANCHE's travels, they had fallen asleep together while camping. It would have been nothing of note if not for the position they'd woken up in: curled toward each other, Cloud's hand in his mane as if to pet a dog.

"Tifa and Aerith must be laughing again."

Nanaki snorted. "They would." Unspoken was the thought that they really had been humorous back then, both putting on a face of indifference to mask their need for companionship. The incident had been embarrassing, and Nanaki recalled he'd been particularly aloof that day to make up for it.

So much foolishness, looking back at it.

"I'll say hello for you," Cloud offered.

Nanaki's chest ached. It had been a long time since they had seen Tifa, or Cid, or Reeve. Even longer, Aerith. And though Cloud had lived his life well these past years, he also sounded so relieved for the chance.

This time, the 'please stay' remained in Nanaki's chest, and he said only, "If you would." He would howl when the breath stilled, but Cloud did not need mourning. He was dying as he should, as a hero going home.