A/N: My life as of late is spent conquering fears. Or most specifically, triumphing over a paralyzing fear of driving after my accident two years ago. In the past couple months since graduating college, I've slowly gone from debilitating panic attacks just moving the car down the street and clutching the door while in the passenger seat, to getting my license and driving to a Starbucks by myself. At the end of those four miles, I was shaky but free. And so, I wanted to bring some of those thoughts and feelings into a story.
I've also recently taken up playing the game Champion Jockey: G1 Jockey & Gallop Racer, and became very inspired to write about racing after my horse suffered an injury after a series of impossible odds wins.
Enjoy my odd fusion of Final Fantasy VII and Gallop Racer storylines/mechanics in this, well, not quite crossover.
Shatterglass
By Catsitta
1. THE ACCIDENT
"Do you really think you can defeat me? On a yellow chocobo no less. This must be a joke, Strife."
Cloud clutched Fenris' reins in a white-knuckled grip. The worn gloves his mother gave him the day he became a jockey creaked in protest. Sephiroth was goading him. It was what the older man did whenever they raced against each other, be it during a maiden run or a ranked championship. Though normally the banter held little weight, as Cloud proved numerous times that he was not only a competent rider, but one of the best. In three short years, he went from a nobody begging his sponsor stable to let him ride their chocobos, to a household name that rivaled Sephiroth's own. But today, he was racing on one of the chocobo's he bred himself instead of one of his sponsor's mounts, and the bird's very coloration betrayed why the punters projected him coming in last.
It did not matter that he overcame odds like these before. On this very chocobo. What mattered was that Fenris' biological ability hindered them, and even flawless racing did not guarantee a placement above the bottom.
Sephiroth lifted his chin, green eyes glinting aqua in the dimmed lighting of the indoor facility. At his side was an impressive black chocobo that dwarfed Cloud's Fenris. The gelding clacked his beak, looking as superior as his rider.
"I've won against you plenty, Crescent. Today won't be any different!" Blue eyes blazed as the blond took a defensive step forward. Given the dramatic height difference between the two, Cloud needed to look up to continue glaring at his rival. Sephiroth arched an elegant silver brow. It was the closest the man ever got to showing emotions outside of antagonizing word play.
"We will see," he drawled, tugging at the reins to his chocobo as he walked past Cloud. "Do not forget our wager. I do so look forward to reaping the spoils of my victory."
Cloud blew a tuft of his rebellious hair from his face and crossed his arms. Sephiroth and his stupid bets and challenges. Ever since Cloud had the audacity to beat him in a race during his rookie year, the man constantly proposed ridiculous contests to test their skills. Each one was grander and more convoluted than the last. To think, Sephiroth was who Cloud aspired to become as a kid. He grew up watching the young prodigy taking on championship races at the age of eight. Eight!
He now understood that Sephiroth was the youngest person to ever receive and survive a mako infusion, which enhanced his senses and qualified him to be a jockey. Cloud himself almost did not pass the mako test, after a poor initial reaction to the injection, but he endured and started a career as a professional racer at the tender age of fifteen. A standard beginning point in the dangerous industry.
After his time spent climbing the ranks, the shine from his idol faded, and now he stood on almost equal ground, constantly striving to rub Sephiroth's stuck up nose in the dirt. The first thing the man did after losing to Cloud, was declare a challenge and call him a worthless upstart that would burn out after a season. Who wouldn't want to smear mud all over Mister Perfect's spotless self?
The blond yanked on Fenris' reins, eliciting an angry squawk.
"Oh! Sorry there, buddy." The tension in his body faded as he rubbed the chocobo's beak apologetically. "I shouldn't be so rough. Forget my strength sometimes. Mako's a crazy thing, yeah?"
Fenris trilled.
Cloud sighed.
It was time to get ready for the race.
.x.
The Gold Saucer was conveniently located in the middle of the desert. Not only that, but it was a desert notorious for its quick sand 'lakes'. Which meant that the surrounding area was so inhospitable, that the only way to reach the famous entertainment mecca, was by special transit. The tourists usually took the trolley system, which transported customers in a cart along cables. But others, such as the racers, had to navigate through the sands on a pathetic excuse for a road, and hope their vehicles and trailers weren't tipped by the frequent high winds.
Cloud hated traveling here because of that.
Once inside the building, he had to admit, it was awe inspiring.
There were hotels, restaurants, a casino, a theatre, an arena, and of course, a full chocobo race track. It was no less impressive to witness the twentieth time than it was the first. The neon lights. The constant pulse of music and activity. It was vibrant and alive!
As a small town boy from a village in the mountains, a place like the Gold Saucer was like an alien planet.
But he wasn't here to enjoy the sights. He was here to win what was perhaps the most difficult race of his life. It was a ranked championship ride. All participants navigated through the lower ranks to qualify for a chance at the title race. And his mount was a glaring anomaly amongst a sea of black feathers. Yellow chocobos like Fenris weren't destined to become champions, but Cloud had to rise above the odds. He had to win.
His career was at stake!
"All riders to their gates!"
Guiding Fenris to his designated gate at the start of the track, Cloud fought against the panic rising in his chest. Normally, the realization that he could lose a race, no matter how abysmally, was a mere disappointment. He hated letting his sponsors down when they allowed him to a ride one of their mounts at a race. Especially a prize black or, on rare occasions, a gold. This time, the feeling threatened to crawl through his blood and eat him alive like acid.
Stupid Sephiroth and his stupid wagers.
Shaking hands lifted to pull tinted goggles over his eyes. Indoor courses like these were filled with strobe lights and dizzying special effects—part of the many obstacles both jockey and chocobo had to overcome.
Cloud dared a glance to either side.
On his right was a friendly jockey a couple years Cloud's senior named Zack Fair. He was a light-hearted and goofy man with a head full of gelled up raven spikes. He looked and acted like your typical class clown. But appearances weren't everything. Otherwise he wouldn't be sponsored by the Shin-Ra stables, same as Sephiroth.
On his left was a sixteen year old girl named Yuffie Kisaragi. She transferred from the Wutai circuit to compete in the Continental races after winning the championship in her home country. Tiny but fierce, Yuffie was the only person in the race without Mako enhancements. Wutai did not require it of their racers, and the Continental League gave allowances for her due to her impressive record free of any accident or injury.
The blond wondered how she competed in such a dangerous sport so confidently when she knew that one wrong move could kill her. She had no defenses against injury, nor an enhanced healing factor. Her senses were also her own—no sensitive hearing or to make her aware of changes in her mount or in the environment. But here she was, perched on a chocobo in the gate beside his, fragile but fearless.
He pulled his gaze to the front, legs tightening marginally around Fenris' body. Cloud felt the chocobo's vestigial wings shift against his calves. The lights outside the track dimmed further than before, drowning the observers in hazy darkness. Their chatter fell into an anticipatory hush. This was it. He tensed—ready for the cue.
Suddenly, the low-lit track came alive with a flash.
It was coupled with the bang of gates slamming open.
"And they're off!"
In the second that these things occurred, Cloud spurred his mount into action.
Fenris leapt from the gate in an impressive burst of speed, taking the lead and placing a sizable distance between him and the rest of the pack. Cloud spared a glanced over his shoulder. None of the others were attempting to spur their mounts to catch up with his, fully aware that the yellow could not sustain his speed for long and his stamina pool was shallow compared to theirs. When they were ready to burst into action or gain advantage, they would. It was a matter of knowing how their mounts best ran in races, whether they relied on a steady lead (like Fenris) or preferred to remain at the back of the pack, closing rank in the final stretch as they employed their conserved energy to overcome opponents.
Cloud swallowed and laid flush against Fenris' neck and back.
The track glittered around them, a dream-like blur of neon and projections. The track sloped up, green light pooling beneath them to emulate grassy knolls. Fenris huffed, tiring but clinging to his arduous pace. Cloud could heard the others slowly closing the distance, unhurried in their pursuit. He gave the reins a slight jerk, urging the chocobo toward the inside curve of the track as they descended the slope.
The lights shifted blue.
He smelled the water before Fenris' clawed foot splashed ankle deep into the next obstacle.
A blur of purple-and-red neon formed a blinking arrow, warning of a sudden change in the direction of the curve. Cloud bumped his heels against Fenris' sides, wanting to recover some of the acceleration lost in the water trap.
The blond glanced back again.
His heart pounded.
Leading the pack was Sephiroth, his impressive mane of platinum hair tied up in a tail, unfettered by a helmet. Unlike most racers, he did not wear any protective headgear, including the usual tinted goggles. That aristocratic face was hard to see from his distance, but Cloud could imagine the serious expression he likely wore. Or maybe it was mocking as he reveled in the prospect of Cloud losing.
Smug bastard.
Cloud focused again on the track, but his thoughts strayed. It was hard to keep them pinned on the situation when he could heard Sephiroth's voice in his head, his wager a poisonous promise.
"If I win the final race at the Gold Saucer, you will quit being a jockey forever."
He struggled to swallow in a breath.
"That's ridiculous. Why would I agree to such a thing? Chocobo racing is my life!"
The image of Sephiroth looming over him, an almost manic gleam in his glowing eyes, filled the forefront of Cloud's mind. He never threatened his rival's career in the past.
"Because, Strife, if you somehow win on that pathetic excuse for a chocobo...I will forfeit my sponsorship with ShinRa...to you. You will want for nothing. The best the stables have to offer will be yours to race."
"What makes you think you can even do that?"
"I know ShinRa. They will ask to become your primary sponsor should I step aside. You are the industry's newest little pet prodigy. Even if you do have to take a month leave every year due to that pesky mako intolerance of yours."
Cloud let out a ragged breath, blinking through the sweat streaking down his face. Sephiroth would not let him refuse the wager. The man essentially blackmailed him into agreeing, threatening to ruin his reputation and record should he say no. The only way to keep racing was to win here in the Gold Saucer—even if he did not care about gaining more notable sponsorship. He may have dreamed of working for ShinRa as a kid, but he was fond of the little stable who gave him a chance. His friends were like family. Win or lose they supported him.
So he was not going to let them down by losing here!
Gritting his teeth, he urged Fenris to pick up his pace. They were closing in on the last obstacle. The space bridge. It was a slippery glass straightway plunged in darkness. Save for the tiny array of shifting constellations, there was no light. It was here that many jockeys over the years experienced their downfall. Their mounts lost their footing and went crashing down, throwing the rider or worse, crushing them beneath their bulk. On rare occasions the impact even breaks the glass and causes a horrific chain reaction amongst the riders that came in behind them.
It could be a bloody affair that crippled chocobos and on a handful of occasions, killed the rider.
"Steady, Fenris," Cloud murmured as they reached the space bridge. He could feel the chocobo slowing, unable to gain proper traction. Sharp claws skid fruitlessly against the slick track. But they continued onward. Further. Further. Further. The blond reached for the whip strapped to his thigh. Many riders carried theirs in hand as they raced, but he preferred a securer hold on the reins.
The thunder of footsteps alerted Cloud of the pack closing in.
They were easily crossing the distance.
Should he fall behind an inch, he would lose this whole race.
He stretched his arm out, whip at ready. He had to wait for the right moment. That glorious sweet moment when the space bridge ended and the final turn opened up to the home stretch. He waited. One second. Two. His heartbeat drummed above the other racers as they gobbled up those last, precious feet between them.
Then the world went bright and Cloud brought his whip down.
His exhausted mount let out a squawk as he surged forward with newfound resolve, practically humming with adrenaline as he ran faster than before, as if temporarily ignorant of his own dragging fatigue. Cloud clutched Fenris' neck feathers, cheek pressed to his neck as he urged him to keep going. But even that burst of energy could not last forever. Fenris kept moving, but there was an odd stagger to his gait, almost as if he were lurching toward the finish line.
The pack they left behind seemed to pounce.
Through bleary, half-lidded eyes, Cloud could see Sephiroth pull up beside him, his mount at full pelt, slowly inching to take the lead.
He shook at Fenris' shoulder desperately.
It all happened to quick for even his mako enhanced reflexes to overcome.
The finish line was within arm's reach-
"FINISHED!" A horn blazed, announcing the end of the race.
-Cloud's world took a dangerous tilt. He could feel Fenris straining to keep upright, but his legs buckled, his weight crumpling. The blond yanked on the reins, desperate to correct the fall.
Fenris twisted.
Cloud slipped from his mount.
And the world went black in an explosion of pain.
.x.
"...loud...Clo...Cloud!"
Pain. He was in so much pain.
"Wake up! You gotta...up...Cloud."
Creeping. Popping. Twisting. He could feel the mako in his blood heating, burning away as it spurred his cells into action. His heart beat out a rapid tattoo. Muscles protested every shuddering inhalation of breath. Bones snapped audibly as sizable fragments were pulled into place, leaving the smallest particles to be dissolved into the bloodstream. He was hot. Boiling. Burning!
"Out of...way miss, we need...to the hospital."
"CLOUD!"
.x.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
White walls and the scent of lysol greeted him as he stirred awake. Blue eyes peeled open, sticky from sweat and tears. Cloud blinked. Sunlight trickled through a curtained window. He groaned, clamping heated lids shut to block out the stabbing rays.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He lifted a heavy hand and draped a leaden arm over his face. Cloud did not want to be here. He hated hospitals. Ever since breaking his arm as a little kid, he avoided the places as much as possible. Only time he ever voluntarily went in them were for his yearly mako boosters, and the following days were spent bent over a toilet, trying to keep enough food down to sustain him between feverish naps.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Why was he in a hospital now? He had his shot seven months ago. Cloud pulled his arm away from his face and struggled into a sitting position. He trembled. Everything hurt. From his toes to his head, it was as if someone rolled him through a human-sized drying press. Secured to his right arm were a number of wires and an IV tube. A solution that appeared to be saline mixed with mako dripped down from the fluid bag. No wonder his gut kept trying to roll into his mouth.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Cloud picked at the bandages securing the tubes and wires to skin. His head was a fuzzy muddle. Why was he here? What happened? He stilled as he heard the echo of approaching footsteps and the faint murmur of voices. A mundane would not be able to hear their words, but he could make out what was being said if he focused.
"Are you sure he's okay?" That voice was familiar. It...it belonged to his childhood friend, Tifa, a chocobo rancher who worked at the farm where his stable obtained its mounts.
"He's fine, Miss Lockheart." A doctor or nurse? She had a pleasant voice. Soothing.
"But he hasn't woken up."
"There is nothing wrong with Mr. Strife. The injuries he sustained are fully healed. His system is likely recovering from the shock of burning so much mako, and required rest. Once he is discharged, he will need some recovery time for the pain to subside, but within the month, he should be able to return to racing without a problem."
"Pain!"
"Think of it like an athlete working out too hard and becoming sore for a day or two. Mako can do miraculous things, but it does have its limits. will be sore, possibly even feeling flu-like as his body finishes its repairs naturally."
"Nothing permanent?"
"Not at all! He was really quite lucky. Had he fallen just a fraction of a degree differently, he would have broken his spine instead of just his collarbone, arm and ribs. If it weren't for the mako, had he survived the fall, he would be in a full body cast. As it is, there is no lasting damage."
Beeeeeep. Beeeeeeep. Beeeeeep.
Cloud felt his breath hitch and he clutched the cotton sheet over his legs. It all came back to him. The race. The final dash. The fall. It all played out in agonizing detail. The feeling of bones bending, bending, bending, then snapping at they gave way to pressure. His head slamming into the hard rubber flooring. Lights flashing and the crowd screaming. The weight of Fenris crushing down on his chest. All the air forced from his lungs like a punch to the solar plexus. His vision blurring out before snapping into darkness like an old camera shutter.
"Cloud?"
He returned to reality in a cold sweat.
Standing at the edge of the bed was Tifa, her garnet eyes wide as a smile stretched on her face. Her normally sleek black hair was in disarray, as if she'd slept and not brushed it out. Her skin was pallid with heavy circles beneath the eyes. And she was wearing the same clothes from race day—a pair of leather shorts, fingerless gloves, a white half-top and a zip-up, sleeveless black jacket.
"Hey Teef," Cloud murmured, surprised at how scratchy his voice sounded.
He braced himself for a leaping hug, but received a punch to the shoulder instead. Cloud gripped the spot and scowled.
"What was that for?"
Tifa sniffed and crossed her arms, "For scaring me. For scaring all of us! What gave you the insane idea to push poor Fenris so hard? No one expected him to win. Not even that cranky sponsor of yours, Barret."
"I...uh..."
"Ahem. Miss Lockheart, I'll have to ask that you try to avoid stressing Mr. Strife too much. He is recovering, after all."
Both Cloud and Tifa turned wide-eyes to the doorway. There stood the soft-spoken doctor Tifa conversed with before entering the room. Her long white coat hung over surprisingly pink scrubs, and her eyes were a shade of emerald rare to see outside of the mako enhanced.
"Hello, Mr. Strife. My name is Dr. Aerith Gainsborough. Might you be willing to answer a few questions for me while you're awake? Your fiancee can stay if you wish."
Cloud shot a questioning look at Tifa, who sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. So that was why the doctor was talking to her about what should have been confidential client information. This wasn't the first time his childhood friend posed as his significant other in some form or fashion. Though normally it was to appease his grandchild hinting mother who Cloud couldn't quite find the heart to tell that he just wasn't into girls that much. Or even guys for that matter. He figured one day he'd get married or something, have some kids, but right now...it just wasn't important. He was only eighteen! He'd figure out the specifics later.
"Sure, Dr. Gainsborough," he said, sliding his gaze back to the smiling young woman. She only looked a couple years his senior. Maybe she was one of those people who would look younger than their real age for their whole life.
As the doctor picked up a clipboard from a plastic bin on the wall, Cloud readied himself for what was hopefully a brief hospital stay.
.x.
"Looking forward to going home?"
Cloud flexed his hand, free at last from the machinery. He was stuck in this room for four days too long and was ready to get out of the Gold Saucer's emergency hospital and back to the stables outside of Costa Del Sol. Giving Dr. Gainsborough a nod, he tried to cover his lingering pain behind a weak smile. She probably didn't fall for it, but she grinned either way, patting his arm in a motherly fashion before offering him a hand to stand up.
"Your fiancee brought you clothes," she said as Cloud hoisted himself up onto his feet. He wavered but remained upright. "They're in the bathroom. Feel free to check out once you're dressed."
"Thanks."
As she turned to exit, and Cloud regained his center of balance, he heard her footsteps stutter to a stop, "Oh! Hello. I didn't expect to see you around. Are you here to take Mr. Strife home? He's ready to discharge."
Expecting Tifa, he looked to the doorway...and froze.
Skulking about was the last person he ever expected to darken his hospital room's doorstep. Sephiroth. His rival looked strange outside of his uniform, the pair of wire frame glasses on his nose an unexpected accessory given his dislike of wearing goggles. He stood with his hands crossed behind his back, looking oddly approachable in a loose black tee and faded grey jeans.
"...hn. I am simply here to discuss something with Strife before he returns home."
"You know the rules..."
"I do not require much time, Aerith. He is...a friend of mine. Just this once?"
Dr. Gainsborough huffed and used her clipboard to tap him on the nose, "Fine. But only because he's ready to discharge." Cloud ogled her in confounded awe as she strode out of the room as if she hadn't just 'booped' one of the most intimidating men on the planet. What was even more confusing was how unfazed Sephiroth acted as she departed, not even a brow lifted in arrogant questioning.
"Strife." That commanding voice cut through the little white room like a heated knife.
"What do you want?"
"I wish to discuss our wager."
"Oh," Cloud curled his hand, suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing around in a paper robe.
Sephiroth moved to stand near the little window, its diaphanous curtains allowing light to filter through in a gauzy glow. The shadow of some kind of potted plant could be seen through the white material, set on the sill as an adornment.
"Are you aware of the results?"
"I...no. No one's told me anything," Cloud confessed. He vaguely recalled Tifa's scolding earlier in the week. He wasn't sure if her words implied a win or not. When Barret dropped by over the past couple days, it was to tell him off for being a risk taking punk. Not in an unkind way, the cursing was just how the gruff man showed he cared. "Not even my sponsor."
His rival jockey turned so that his back was to Cloud, his lean frame silhouetted by the morning glow, "Then allow myself to be the first to congratulate you on your win."
"I won?"
"Indeed. You took the title on the back of that yellow runt."
"I see..." Cloud looked away and reached out to brace his weight against the wall. The bathroom door was just a couple inches from his palm. "Y'know, I won't hold you to that ridiculous wager you made me agree to, Crescent."
A pause.
He only heard his heartbeat.
"Don't be foolish. I proposed the wager in earnest, do not make a liar of me."
Cloud let out an exasperated snort, "I don't want your sponsor. If ShinRa wants me as their jockey, I'll let them come to me on their own. Not because their golden boy made a stupid bet. That...and if I'm to properly beat you to become the jockey of the year, then I need to do so with you at your best. ShinRa chocobos and all."
Sephiroth shifted, tilting his head toward Cloud, "You are a fool."
The blond smirked, "Says the man that tried to wager his lifelong career on a race. At least I have other options if I have to retire. Do you even know how to do anything else?"
His rival bristled, green eyes narrowed.
"Thought so," Cloud said. A small frown furrowed between his brows. "Hey Crescent, do you know the doctor? You're not exactly the first name basis sort."
"Hm? It is generally considered polite to refer to one's family members as they request."
"Family?" Come to think of it, Aerith's eye shape and arched bangs resembled Sephiroth's.
He rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, "We are cousins."
Suddenly, the temperature in the room cooled as the older man turned fully around and regarded Cloud with a look far more serious than before. It was the kind of expression your parents wore when trying to explain that your grandfather was sick and probably wouldn't live to see the new year.
"Strife, if no one informed you about the race, then you are not aware of Fenris' condition either, are you?"
"Fenris? What's wrong with my Fenris?" Cloud took a step toward Sephiroth, but the strain and the surprise took the strength from his legs and his knees buckled. He threw his arms up to stop his fall, but two strong arms wrapped around him, stopping his descent. The blond stared up at his rival, who adverted his gaze.
"I am not fully aware of the situation. I am not affiliated with any of your stables, but I was there when your accident occurred. From my observations, it appeared the chocobo suffered some kind of injury, similar to a torn achilles tendon in humans. His legs quite literally collapsed beneath his weight and he fell in a peculiar fashion...It is entirely possible I am incorrect, that it was simply exhaustion that caused the fall. But if he did sustain such an injury..."
"He would never race again."
"That is an optimistic outlook."
Cloud clamped his eyes shut. Racing chocobos that suffered crippling injuries from accidents were often euthanized for humane reasons. It was a kinder fate than to allow the animal to suffer through pain for the rest of their life or without their ability to perform basic functions.
"Strife?"
"Thanks for telling me...I...I think I know why no one talked about the race much. I raised Fenris since he hatched from an egg. I trained him. I was the only one who raced him. And...and I..."
'I broke him. I may have even killed him. Just because I wanted to win a stupid bet. What's my career over another's life? Sure, I would have had to quit racing, but I know how to fix stuff. I'm a certified mechanic for Gaia's sake!'
He felt a hand lay against his shoulder. Lightly. Hesitantly.
"Your friend must be wondering where you are," Sephiroth said. "I should leave you to get dressed and discharged from the facilities." He paused. "I am late in my return to Midgar. It would be best if I made haste as well."
After righting the blond so that he could stand on his own, he strode past Cloud, booted feet silent against the tiles.
"Crescent—"
This time, his rival did not stop or turn. He kept walking, vanishing from sight. Cloud stared at the doorway for a long second before shuffling into the bathroom. He needed to change into real clothes. Reality and its consequences could be figured out later.
tbc
A/N: (Thanks for reading! Please comment and review~ Updates will occur weekly since this story is nearly complete. It will have three main parts and an epilogue. See y'all next week.)