This was...totally random and inspired by absolutely nothing.
Kinda sad. And dark. And...well, I don't believe I've ever written anything like it.
-I do not own Crisis Core...-
I am a soldier.
I am trained to destroy who I am told is the enemy. I am trained to desire freedom for my people.
I am trained to leave behind my family and friends. I am trained to leave all emotions that do not feel hatred on the doorstep of my home. I am trained to know how a gun works.
I am a soldier, and I have been trained to take on every challenge that arises.
I am trained to die for a cause I believe in; a cause I am told is the greater good.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
The streets of Banora were quiet, which was normal in the small town. Leaves from the Banora trees blew across the ground, the wind creating spirals of dirt to look like a mini tornado, and rotting apples fell to the ground. The blue apples would fall and split open to reveal their insides or they would roll to the bottom of the trees they had come from.
White as paper, the trees would arch themselves and meet a tree on the opposite side of the pathway that led to the small town. Their leaves would hang low so, if you're tall enough, you'd have to duck underneath them. When the wind blew through the twisted branches, the trees would almost sing to anyone on their way into town.
Zack Fair, a Soldier visiting home for the first time in almost a year, had come to visit his mother in Banora but, as usual, had stopped to sit beneath the swaying trees. He let his head fall back against the smoothened bark and his eyes slipped closed as a smile crept over his lips.
Beside him, a friend he had met along the way also leaned against the tree. He didn't ever talk too much, and his eyes were always wide and questioning. His blond hair would move with the wind, never falling out of its spiked shape.
"You know something?" Zack had asked, never opening his eyes to look at his friend. "To be honest, this is probably my favorite part of visiting my mom. Sitting under these trees, I mean."
The blond wouldn't say anything to the darker-haired Soldier. He would just sit silently, looking over the expressions that Zack's face would shuffle through while he sat and took the time to think. Occasionally the blond would look away, at a rock he had picked up somewhere during Zack's babbling or at a forgotten apple nearby.
Zack would shift in his spot, though, and the blond's blue eyes would quickly move to make sure the Soldier hadn't been disturbed somehow. And when Zack didn't move or show any signs of discomfort, the blond would look away and back down to whatever item had made its way into his hand.
"Cloud?" Zack would ask, turning so he could see the blond's face. His bright blue eyes would be heavy with sleep and his blond spikes would be mussed from the tree he was leaning against, his neck craned in a way that would make anyone else uncomfortable and his arms would be limp. The rock he was holding onto would have fallen from his palm and back into the dirt.
And Zack would smile. He would turn back to how he had been sitting before he turned to look at his friend and he, too, would sleep for a while.
He would dream about the last year he had spent fighting, and all the challenges he had to overcome, and he would dream about the day when he had first found Cloud. He wouldn't ever forget it; because of all the challenges he'd faced, Cloud may have been the toughest to crack.
Zack always loved a challenge.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
It does not take long for a fire to spread, or for a simple wound to become fatal.
It does not take long to light a match you take from the box you found hidden by a gas powered stove. It does not take long to figure out that, when someone you had trusted stands in the center of a room with a smile on their face that you had never seen before, they had turned against you.
It does not take long for the fingers holding the match to release their grip and tear your world apart.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
They would continue to visit the tree every single day they spent in Banora. They wouldn't ever get tired of seeing the same thing all the time. If anything, they had used the tree as a way to grow closer to each other. From another guy on the street to a comrade. From a comrade to a friend. From a friend to a brother.
Zack would exclaim that it would feel like they had stayed beneath the tree for season after season, even when it had only been three days. It wouldn't have seemed as long if he had been with Angeal or any other Soldier. They were harder for Zack to talk too. But talking to Cloud was like talking to a, less talkative and slightly more confused, version of himself.
He could talk to Cloud until they both fell asleep beneath the tree. Then they would sleep for hours and hours, until Zack's rumbling stomach woke him up and made him want food. He would get up, shake Cloud awake, then they would return home for food.
But it had only taken those couple of hours they had slept away for the entire town of Banora to burn.
Zack's blue eyes reflected the fire like a mirror as he watched even his own house collapse underneath the flames. He had run forward, trying to hurry to his house, and been cut off by what he described as the image of a familiar face disappear into the blackened smoke that arose from the scattered ashes of Banora. He would be distracted by the face; a taunting look surrounded by locks of light brown hair. It would hold his gaze for less than a minute, and he would be running again.
He would make it to his home, Cloud following behind him with a horrifed look on his face, and he would find another familiar face standing in the center of the flames. The face would hold a look of anguish, it would be saying 'forgive me', and would be surrounded by hair similar to that of Zack's own color. And, through it all, the fire would reflect off of the metallic item that was left in the face's wake.
The Buster Sword would be sticking straight up from the floor boards.
Cloud would stand in the doorway of his temporary home, and he would watch as Zack carefully made his way to the metallic gleam that held his eyes. When his hand fit around the grip of the sword he would turn to leave, pull the sword free, and almost make it out when his eyes would catch something else they should have never had to see.
Her body was lying on the floor like she had been carelessly thrown there, like a doll no one wanted. Her face was burned to such an extent that she was hardly recognizable. Her eyes had burned to nothing and her mouth hung open while the skin surrounding her once pink lips burned and turned to ash before the blue eyes that watched with disgust. Her hands were burned to almost nothing; the once white bones charred a deep black. Her arms and fingers outstretched like she was reaching for him. For help.
He had turned away, his stomach, although void of food, wanting to empty itself. He could feel the flames at his back as he pushed his friend from the doorway. Cloud was pale and frozen in place. His bright blue eyes were wide in fear and confusion as the Soldier lifted him off the ground and threw him over his shoulder. "We have to get out of here," he heard Zack shout over the noise of the burning buildings.
How could all this have happened so quickly?
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
No matter where you go, you cannot escape the images that penetrate your mind.
They follow you. They haunt you.
It hurts to breathe sometimes. And the scars that have appeared on your arms, your back, your chest, even your face, they never go away. They remind you of the past, they remind you the past is real. If you keep looking at them, they keep taking you backwards in time.
If you keep going backwards in time, you'll never get anywhere in the future.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
The two had run from Banora the day of the fire and they never once looked back. Cloud had to travel on Zack's back because the images had scarred his mind so badly he couldn't walk without getting dizzy.
Zack would stop every couple of miles, or so, to get sick. He watched his mother burn with his house. With his town. He knew who was behind it all, too, but he just couldn't believe it. Someone who taught him all he knew, someone who he looked up to with the utmost respect. It had to be a trick. Some sort of trick was being played on his mind.
This trick made him feel like he was broken; like he was weak. Like this trick affected his mind in ways that it shouldn't have been able too. Zack would break down sometimes and he would lean against the sturdiest thing near him. More often than not, he finds himself leaning his head on Cloud's shoulder while the blond tries to rid his own mind of his reoccuring nightmare. Time after time, he finds himself leaning against Zack as well.
Cloud would listen to Zack's whimpering occasionally, too. His voice would be shaky like he were in terrible pain or he'd been sobbing uncontrolably just a second before he decided to speak. He would talk about how pathetic he was for leaving her to die that way. About how they should turn around and go back to Banora. Look for the survivors. Look for the murderers.
The blond wouldn't respond in any way whatsoever. He would sit completely still, hardly blinking, hardly even breathing, like he would pass out at any given time. He would sometimes look down at Zack's arm or leg, whichever was in view from the corner of his eye. He would count every scar he saw; every burn, every gash, even any bug bites he happened to see. The bug bites were alright sometimes. They would make the blond think of the two of them sitting beneath their tree.
The gashes would make him think of all the trouble he'd caused Zack in the past. The very first time they met Cloud was so weak he couldn't even properly open his eyes or even make a noise. So Zack had to carry him everywhere he went, he would slow Zack down so he couldn't get away from anyone that tried to attack him.
The burns just made him see Zack's mother, burned and discarded on the floor of their home. He would think about the look on her face as she burned and he would think about the look on Zack's face when he watched it all happen. He would open his mouth to get air instead of breathe through his nose because just the memory of the fire left him breathless.
Then Zack would move, and Cloud would start to fall. He wouldn't ever catch himself, though, because he knew Zack always would. He would grab his arm and pull him up until he was standing. The blond would try to focus his eyes so that he could see everything around him, but Zack would quickly pull him up onto his back.
This time, however, when he started to fall he hit the dirt. It rose around him in a cloud, making his eyes hurt and his throat dry out if he had accidentally swallowed some of it, but he still tried his hardest to look up at his friend. The Soldier had been braced and ready to attack, the Buster Sword at the ready.
The two were surrounded.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
Their faces are all the same, every single one of them.
They cover their eyes so you cannot see what it is they are thinking. They cover their mouths in case you happen to have some kind of a gas on you. They hold their guns high until they are at level with their eyes and they point at you. And they wait to see what you will do.
If you choose to fight, they put up a good show. They keep you on your toes at all times, for sometimes when they discard their guns they pull their own swords from their sheaths.
If you choose to run, they do not hold back. They fire at you until they are sure that you cannot move anymore. They show no mercy; they kill unarmed women and even children.
If you do nothing, they take the time to torture you.
If you were stuck, taking too long to think of a plan, it was game over.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
His bright eyes scanned the masked faces of the enemies as he wondered what would happen next. He didn't want to move from where he was; he was too afraid too. No matter how uncomfortable he was in the dirt he couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe loudly. If he did, there was a chance that they would strike, without so much as a warning.
He couldn't bear to see Zack get hurt for him again.
The blond stayed silent as he looked from face to face. They were all the same. They were too much alike. And then, hidden behind all the rest, there was a face, Cloud saw, that wasn't masked. The face was pale. Long. The eyes set on top of darkened shadows like the man hadn't slept in months. His hair had fallen down the sides of his face, it was long. It was light. It almost seemed silver in the sunlight.
As quickly as Cloud had spotted him, he was gone. His face had fallen into the line of masks and goggles; and that's when Cloud looked up at Zack. His blue eyes seemed dull and still as they watched the spot where the man stood before. The Soldier swallowed hard and gripped the Buster Sword so hard that Cloud could here the rubber of the grip against his gloves, despite the clicking of enemy guns and other weapons. Even over the voice of one of the men.
"We have you surrounded," he called, hoisting up his gun.
Cloud heard Zack chuckle, the nervousness coming through his laugh slightly. "I think that's a bit obvious," the Soldier said half-heartidly.
The man gave an irritated grunt. "Do you think you're funny, Soldier?" he asked angrily.
Zack didn't say anything after that. His nervousness had shown through enough to make the man laugh at him. "You're gonna die here, scumbag. You and your little friend there." The men started coming closer. They moved until they were not even ten feet away from where Zack and Cloud were.
Panic had risen inside Cloud, and he turned over so that he was lying on his back. His blue eyes moved until they locked onto the eyes of his friend, and he began to panic again. There was a hidden message behind his eyes. One that the blond needed to figure out on his own. Luckily it didn't take long.
His breath caught in his throat and he tried his best to sit up, but he wasn't fast enough. He wasn't strong enough. By the time he was sitting upright, Zack had charged the line of men. His sword cut through as many men as it could manage, while the screams of the Soldier cut through the air. He swung his sword in every direction imaginable, hoping that he would get enough of the guys to get out of the trouble alright.
Bullets ripped through the air, the sound hitting Cloud's ears and making his ears ring and his head hurt. Some flew right into the Buster Sword as Zack whipped it around. Some graced his skin in a way that drew blood from the Soldier's arms and shoulders. Some hit his skin head on, making small holes that let rivers of blood flow freely down his skin.
He grunted in pain, feeling himself get hit twice in the right arm and once in the left leg. Have to be more careful, have to be more careful, he kept thinking, taking a second to push a strand of midnight blue hair from his face. "Is that all you've got?" he asked cockily, regretting the mouth he had been given.
"Not one to keep quiet, are you, kid?" another man asked.
Zack shook his head, a smirk painted on his lips. "Nuh-uh. I'm not one for giving in, either!"
Cloud watched as he charged again, this time straight into the line, and he began to hold his breath. Even Zack couldn't make it through something like that unscathed. Nor did Cloud expect him too.
It didn't take the men long to throw Zack back out and into the dirt. They ran forward and kicked him in the gut, making sure he wouldn't be able to move, and they took the Buster Sword from his injured hand. Zack didn't fight back. He let his head fall into the dirt, his blue eyes looking up at Cloud.
They were hazy. Laced with pain. Blood started to leave a trail from the corners of his mouth and from all of his wounds. He looked as though he wanted to cry out that they won, that he gave up. But that wasn't Zack's style.
And Cloud knew that.
The dark-haired Soldier smiled at his friend, his teeth stained red like his arms and hands, and mouthed something to Cloud. Something Cloud could barely make out. 'For you'.
The men didn't take a second to rethink what they were doing, or even give him a chance to take another breath. Cloud heard them reload their guns. Cloud saw a man raise his hand. Cloud saw that man drop his hand and he heard that man shout, "Fire!".
Cloud heard nothing but the bullets in the air.
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~
I am a soldier.
I am trained to destroy who I am told is the enemy. I am trained to desire freedom for my people.
I am trained to leave behind my family and friends. I am trained to leave all emotions that do not feel hatred on the doorstep of my home. I am trained to know how a gun works.
I am a soldier, and I have been trained to take on every challenge that arises.
I am trained to die for a cause I believe in; a cause I am told is the greater good.
And that is why I, Zack Fair, First class Soldier, gave my life that day.
For you.
Oh, wow. That was a pretty suckish ending.
This whole story is pretty dark for my taste/style, but I hope it was somewhat enjoyable?
Reviews are welcome, so long as they aren't too mean. :)