The Storm Brewing Between Us
Author Note/Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy, as for whose POV it is. I think that is up to the reader.

It was raining the day you die.

Quick flashes of lightning highlighting our forms for a couple of seconds before it go completely dark again, followed by loud roars of thunder.

But despite the storm brewing around us, with rain, thunder, and lighting, it doesn't stop the inevitable storm brewing between us.

And both of us know one of us is going to die tonight.

We aren't the same people who we use to be, we both have grown colder due to the circumstances of the war.

I've killed several of your people, just like you've killed several of mine. Perhaps that is the reason why we hate each other now.

Whatever was between us before the war began was gone like a flash of lightning spread across the dark sky. We aren't the same individuals now, eager to seek at companionship, friendship, because of similar experiences of seeing the light.

Another flash of lightning spreads across the sky, and it's almost like a signal between us to start fighting.

Our swords clash, coated in magic unique to our us, and only us.

But regardless of the fact we are alike in so many ways, but we both know by the time another flash of lightning crosses the skies.

One of us will be dead.

Because regardless of any feelings we may have had for each other in the past, the past is gone, and the only thing we must focus on is the present and the future.

Another flash of lightning and blood spills to the ground.

I was the victor.

My weapon of choice clatters to the ground disappearing on impact as I kneel next to your dying form. We may have hated each other because of circumstances, and where our allegiances lie, but for the moment that doesn't matter anymore.

We were friends before the war began, and perhaps that is reason why I kneeled by your side, waiting for you take your dying breath. Saying sentiments a person may say to a dying friend, even though we haven't been friends for a long time.

For a minute I swear I see a flash of gratitude cross your eyes, before you pass into the afterlife.

The storm brewing between us is over.

-fin.