I got all giddy at the thought of the FFVII remake and the demo update of FFXV (so fricking amazing, am I right? Ugh, I sobbed so hard. This is an ode to my favorite ships and as usual, it's never to be taken serious, okay? Have fun with it, I say!

hello again, cutie patooties~

This story could have started off by introducing a solemn Prince who's been woefully engaged to a Princess he does not want to marry or it could even begin with a soldier who is assigned to protect someone they don't want to, and even with a lonely, little bartender in a shitty relationship. However, these openings are far too overdone and instead this story is going to begin with a cat. (As only great stories do.) This cat, although, plump and quite pampered looking, was feeling ever the opposite. He was hungry, and also lost, but his stomach overpowered any logical need to be found.

Wandering through a poverty stricken neighborhood held little hope for our dear feline friend and he was a finicky eater. Only the best. Garbage was for peasants—lesser cats. He paraded around this ghetto with his furry head held high and tail straight up as if he owned every bit of the land beneath his dainty paws. Traversing through the muddied sidewalks until some smell parading in the air tickled at his sensitive nose. He stopped and turned to the small rundown building next to him.

Had this precious pussycat ever actually paid any attention to his surroundings, he would have heard a very large and stupidly designed motorbike headed in his direction. Scampering just in time to avoid this careless driver, the cat hissed at the boots of his near-murderer. As they dismounted and removed their goggles, the blue-green eyed cat stared up.

The motorcyclist stopped at the sight of a grey cat at his feet. He donned an almost expressionless face, yet the hints of surprise and confusion eased through his stoic facade. He bent down from his towering height and picked up the plump cat. Our cat companion was never one for being manhandled and wriggled out of his gloved grip only to scuttle into the opening door of this building carrying such an exquisite aroma from within. The driver followed with a sound of surprise after the creature, glimpsing with his heavy footwear.

The inside of the building, much to the cat's pleasant surprise, was empty. He rather enjoyed solitude, which would explain how lost he had become trying to escape the loudness of his own home. The inside was just as shabby as the outside, yet the owner must've tried very hard to prevent that simple fact. The floors were swept and the walls were clean and still the inside remained drab. All of this became utterly obsolete once the scent of promised delicacy wafted in from the back—a kitchen.

The driver had finally approached, he was rambling about something unintelligible in the cat's opinion. He didn't understand the man, nor did he care for their odd language. He simply required food and a warm bed. So, he let his nose guide him into the archway of the kitchen and could hear a soft hum of a woman. She was cooking something only describable as heaven.

The humans began interacting before the woman suddenly bent down to the cat's level. The furry cat sat on his haunches and peered into this woman's eyes with utter indifference. He meowed loudly, "I require sustenance, woman chef."

She smiled brightly, aw-ing and oo-ing, and her hand extended out to scratch his head, but having no desire for such invasions of privacy, the cat out a paw on her hand. Her burgundy colored eyes went wide and she giggled at his action. She stood up and continued mundane conversation that the cat knew was about him, even without full comprehension of their language.

He meowed once more, "Puny woman chef, do not ignore me."

She stopped in the middle of her sentence before walking towards the stove and grabbing a paper plate to pile of scoop of red and yellow bits onto a plate. She placed it in front of his paws and snuck a scratch behind his ears to which he shook his head at. The grey feline would have clawed her hands, but he was fully entranced by the wafting aroma that made his mouth water. This red and yellow mixture before him was the source of such divine smells and he couldn't help himself but to abandon all restraint and dig in.

"Cloud, care to explain the cat?" Tifa smirked at the hungry critter. "Not that I mind, it's just so unlike you to bring home pets."

"I didn't bring him home, Tifa," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "He ran in." The blonde haired delivery man, sighed, "Well, since my appetite is ruined, I'll be upstairs..."

He turned to walk out and Tifa bit her lip. She followed after him, "Cloud, it's not ruined, you're not gonna tell me what's been wrong with you?" He continued to turn the corner and up the stairs and she stayed a safe distance away at the base of the steps. She gripped the bannister and continued to talk in a shaky voice, confidence wavering with each of his steps. "Why don't you talk to me, Cloud?"

"Forget it, Tifa. Stop worrying," he blandly stated and disappeared upstairs. Tifa turned to go back to the kitchen, holding her upper arms. A sad expression melted off her face when she noticed the cat on the counter devouring the rest of the pasta. She jumped, forgetting she'd had a furry little customer.

"Oh! You must've been a hungry little guy, huh?"

She cautiously approached, even though she felt no ill vibes from the cat. Plus, she'd helped save the entire country, if she was afraid of a stray cat, she'd have to rethink her life. (You'd think an unofficial national hero would have a spiffier place, right?) he was purring loudly, clearly content with his dinner and Tifa smiled at that.

Leaning on the counter and carefully stroking his extremely silky fur, she wondered what his story was. She wondered if he was someone's family cat and if they were missing him. She wondered if he was an orphan and how her bar had managed to attract all misfits. She wondered if he had as many love life troubles as she did—no, he didn't, by the way—and if he'd ever did his home again. Then she noticed it. A thin grey collar, one that blended into his fur earlier. She'd missed it in her hurry to talk to Cloud as much as possible before the man sulked upstairs.

Her pale fingers found it and and twisted it around his neck until she saw it, a crystal tag. The name was laser etched into the small, sparkling blue stone. When her eyes strained to read the name, she had to do so twice. Choking on her spit a little, Tifa didn't know if she was amused, surprised, confused, or all three!

There etched into the blue stone:Sephiroth