With all he had heard of Zackary's Cadet friend, Angeal knew it was only a matter of time before the boy made an appearance in the book, so he wasn't surprised when he opened it one day to see blond spikes spread across the page.

Everything he had heard of the teen had painted a picture of a sweet young child in his mind. Eyes bright and hopeful like you would expect from someone striving to be a hero. Zack always told him animatedly how cute his young friend was, describing him as the little brother he never had, displaying an inherent desire to protect him.

Conversations with other soldiers who had encountered the child and instructors from his classes had supported this image of a naturally quite and often shy figure of reasonable talent who was typically very polite and reserved.

That was not the boy he was looking at now.

He absently noted this was the only subject he had seen in the book so far where the person wasn't smiling. Even Genesis had worn a weak sad smile as he lamented his inner struggles.

Here a steely frown set delicate features into a look of stubborn defiance.

Over the last few months Angeal had heard several people comment on these eyes, not least Zack. He had been told they were beautiful. But staring into them now Angeal felt like he was drowning. They held no warmth or sparkle as many of the other images had. This gaze was fierce and harsh like a storm over the ocean.

Mesmerising.

After some time the SOLDIER managed to pull his gaze away from those eyes to look at the rest of the image and was horrified to see pale skin, which exposed through torn clothing ws marred with an assortment of angry cuts and bruises. The boy looked like he had been through a war.

And Angeal would know, having seen plenty of people who had.

He had.

Strife had been drawn seated, his back up against a wall as he sat on the ground, one leg extended out and the other drawn up to his chest, arms draped loosely around the knee. The arms themselves were littered with scratches and what were very clearly defensive wounds.

The protective instincts of the honourable SOLDIER surged up until his eyes returned to that face.

Although as damaged as the rest of the body that face was set like stone.

The kid was clearly in pain but Angeal felt no pity.

Not when he was gazing into eyes so intense they looked like they could stop an army in it's tracks. This was not someone who needed pity.

The words below the image were different to those on previous pages, the soft gentle cursive he had grown so fond of was gone. Instead it looked as though the pen had been dragged across the page in anger, pressing just short of too hard.

Almost tearing the paper.

"Let them do their worst, I'm harder to break than they think"

Angeal was inclined to believe him.

I had planned to put others before this one but I'm having some serious writers block with this fic. Might go back and add some later.