Kadaj raised his head. He was so tired. He hurt, inside and out. He could see it in his blonde counterpart, his older brother—Cloud was tired, too. But, truly, Kadaj had wondered, ever since Sephiroth brought it up during their fight. Where did Cloud find the strength to move forward? How was it that they, both of them born of the same mother, Kadaj himself bolstered with the full force of a past horror reborn—how was it that Cloud could overcome such incredible odds, and not only pass, but win?
Whatever Cloud's secret strength was, it wasn't anger or sadness or even Mother herself—Kadaj had already tapped those dry, and still Cloud had emerged victorious. And deep inside, Kadaj had known that Cloud would win, too, for his strength ran from a tainted source with a toxin that would build and build inside of him, a silent serpent rearing inside, until, at last, it would kill him to use it. Cloud's strength—was pure. Incorrigible. Stainless, eternally everlasting.
Why? Kadaj felt like crying. But he had to set a good example. He couldn't afford to cry—for Loz and Yazoo. They couldn't see him break down, because Mother was still unhappy. Her voice remained silent, her emotion impassive, even now, after all of his suffering and sacrifice. And then Kadaj remembered what Shinra-brother had done. Mother was gone for good because of that act, that bizarrely selfless sacrifice from Rufus Shinra—the one man that Kadaj was sure had truly given up all morals in pursuit of glory and ultimate power. The man without a heart had suddenly learned to love, and in that brief moment, had ruined everything.
Kadaj's face twisted. It wasn't fair. Cloud and Tifa and Marlene and Denzel, and all of their steadfast allies; Rufus and Reno and Rude, and the other two whom he had tortured half to death, but still would not speak—where did they get it? How did they find the capacity to move forward in life with such determination, as much as they were scarred and crippled and hurting inside?
Kadaj screamed and ran forward, blinded by pain and fatigue. Cloud still somehow remained in his 'ready' stance, calm and prepared for Kadaj's charge. It was too much—Kadaj swung his double-bladed katana with the last of his energy, flailing more than slashing at Cloud.
Sephiroth's careless treatment of his body suddenly took effect, and Kadaj's breath was stifled by pain. Kadaj helplessly collapsed, his sword dragging listlessly behind him. He felt himself falling—and then an arm, gentle but steady, caught him. Kadaj gazed up at his savior—and of course. Cloud.
The feeling ebbed from him as he lay there, little by little, starting with his fingers and feet and creeping up into his arms and legs. It was a blissful oblivion, a warm nothingness that eclipsed the pain and the worry and the horrible feeling that he might have let Mother down. It felt…good to let go.
But Yazoo and Loz. He had to stay for them. They would be lost without him. Letting go would mean forsaking and abandoning his precious brothers-in-arms. Kadaj struggled to keep his eyes open, to make his limbs obey…but the melodious call of the Lifestream beckoned more strongly than reality, and he could only watch bitterly as the world spun away…
"It's okay. You can let go now, if you want."
Her voice…so kind. So gentle. So tender.
"Mother?" he murmured, his gaze focusing above.
Her hand extended towards him, she smiled. Brown hair, loving face, and eyes green enough to bring the life and love of the whole Lifestream full circle. Sephiroth was wrong. This woman had already conquered the foul corruption of Geostigma with love. Geostigma—and Kadaj was surprised to feel shame in bringing it to the planet—would never be a part of the Lifestream. As if she knew it all and forgave him for all his deeds, the woman smiled. Ready to go?
Kadaj smiled back. He hoped she didn't mind that he was so weak. She didn't seem strong enough to lift him up…but he reached out to her anyway. He wanted so badly to be a part of that beautiful celestial collage of voices and faces and smiles. Kadaj could feel Cloud's unbelieving gaze on him as he lifted his arm to the sky—and in that moment, Kadaj was astonished as he realized that he was using that strange strength. The power that lifted his arm to the heavens stemmed not from him, nor from Mother, but somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere so full of love and acceptance that it spilled over and it cleansed Kadaj, making him sweet again.
Kadaj smiled again, finally free. He knew where they had gotten their strength.
…And Kadaj wasn't sure in his last moments whether the drops trickling down his face were the blessings of the sky or tears from his own eyes, at last.