DIFFERING ORIGINS

DISCLAIMER: FF7 and its related franchises do not belong to me. This fic is made purely for personal purposes, and is not meant for commercial distribution.

WARNINGS: Gen, OOC, AU, lack of canon accuracy, un-beta-ed

NOTES:

I've been out of fanfic for a couple of years (maybe more). My personal life has its ups and downs, which dramatically affects my own writing. Therefore, please be warned that this fic is incomplete. I can't guarantee completion, regardless of your threats, pleas, or demands. However, I hope that you still enjoy whatever I manage to post.

This fic will bear little resemblance to FF7 canon. It's primarily a writing exercise, so I apologize for inaccuracies.

My version of Wutai is Japanese-oriented. So I'll be mixing Japanese culture (what little I know) with Wutai, and any Wutaian names will be Japanese, except those given in canon.

I.

Cloud Strife's life went through a pivotal change when he was only six years old.

It was a simple change, but enough to dramatically alter future events.

It started on one frigid late winter day. The winds were brisk, sufficient to chill any unprotected flesh to the bones. The grounds were covered in inches of snow, and pine trees hung with icicles. The village of Nibelheim were preparing for a late winter feast, a custom specific to their village in anticipation for the coming spring. The adults, bundled in thick furs from head to toe, bustled from house to the townhall, carrying packages and bowls of steaming food. The townhall, a small building located next to the mayor's house, was decorated with scraps of brightly-coloured cloth and paper. The inside was lit brightly with a string of bulbs, thanks to Nibel's sinister Mako reactor, illuminating the two long tables slowly filling with food. Two large fireplaces, set on the back end of the hall a few feet apart, burned with thick logs. One was being used to prepare a cauldron of hearty meat and vegetable stew sufficient for 20 people, while the second had a spit of slowly roasting pig being rotated by one of the villagers.

Cloud, tiny and blond, was hovering outside the townhall. He was wistfully watching the younger village children as they played tag with each other. A few of the older children were coming and going from the townhall, proudly helping their parents to set up for the feast.

"Oi, Cloud."

The boy turned, surprised. It was Tifa and one of the other boys, Wren. Tifa looked impatient, while Wren was smiling at him. Cloud tentatively smiled back. "Hi," he offered shyly.

"We need help looking for Wren's chicken," Tifa announced. Cloud cocked his head to the side. "It's their family's gift for the feast, except Wren wasn't careful enough in taking it out of the coop. It ran off and we have to go find it right away so his mom can cook it for the feast."

"Um, okay," Cloud said unsurely. They had never asked him to help before. Cloud and his mother, newcomers to the village, were treated with deep suspicion and disdain by the rest of the village. It made it difficult and lonely for Cloud, even if his mother was able to help them live a good life thanks to their small farm and her work as village seamstress.

He followed them to the outskirts of the village, shivering. He pulled down his thick knitted cap on top of his ears and blew into his mittened hands.

Tifa pointed to the right, where the village led down a rocky trail to a stream and small forest. "You go over there. I'm going this way." She point forward, towards where the old bridge leading to the reactor was. "Wren will go that way." Last she pointed left, where the trail led up to small hill.

"Okay," Cloud repeated obediently. He set off down the trail, carefully clutching rocks to avoid slipping.

For the next two hours, Cloud hunted up and down the stream. Fearful and anxious to please, he grew increasingly upset at his inability to find the missing fowl. Finally, desperate, he began slowly venturing into the forest.

Now, Nibelheim children were taught general woodcraft, if only because the village was isolated and surrounded by mountains and forests of most sides. Cloud, however, knew little since the adults disdained him, and his mother was brought up in a coastal village. As such, it didn't take long for Cloud to get lost.

That night, the village was locked down due to a surprise blizzard.

By the time Cloud's mother and the villagemen found him the next day, Cloud had buried himself in a self-made snow cavern, halfway to hypothermia in a comatose state.

When Cloud woke up 3 weeks later, he and his mother were far from Nibelheim.