Ding-Dong-Ditch; The first wonder of Nibelheim; A hearty breakfast;
Goodbyes and Gratitude; A small problem; Who are you?
Intimidation tactics
The morning air was cold in the mountains' shadow, the sun not yet cresting the high peaks or drowning the last stars in its light. Even the few hardy birds that dwelt on Mt. Nibel had yet to wake and sing as Tifa crept out of the Strifes' house. Her father might have been overprotective and bull-headed, but she'd loved him and the memory of finding him dead at the foot of the Nibel reactor with a bloody Masamune embedded in the ground beside him still made her heart ache. She'd pulled the long blade loose and gone after the man responsible, but she'd never stood a chance. A teenager half-blinded by grief and rage, wielding a seven-foot katana she hadn't the slightest training for? Looking back at it, she was incredibly lucky, both that she'd lived through her foolish attack and that Master Zangan had taken her away from the reactor before the arrival of Shinra personnel.
Now she hoped for a glimpse of her father before she left. It went against their original plan, to get into and out of Nibelheim as quietly and quickly as possible, but that idea had been scuppered when young Cloud stepped out from behind his boulder. Their presence was known now, and watching Cloud last night, interacting awkwardly with his mother, Tifa had longed for her own reunion with her parent. She'd spent all night drowsing restlessly, unable to fall fully asleep, haunted by the twin images of Denzel's crumpled body on the mountain path and her father's corpse outside the reactor. Loss came so swiftly, so unexpectedly. She was cautious enough to realize that actually speaking to her father was a terrible risk, but who could begrudge her the chance to just see him, healthy and alive?
She took several last deep breaths to calm herself, then walked up the steps to her childhood home. Tifa lifted her fist to the wooden door and knocked. It was very early - maybe no one would answer. She and her father had never been early risers. Should she knock again? As she was hesitating, she heard light footsteps heading for the door. Tifa bolted. This knock-and-run strategy was a childish prank, but she didn't have time to come up with anything better. She held her breath, peering through a knothole in the fence that separated the Strife's property from the Lockhart's. The door swung open, and at first she saw nothing. Cursing her angle, she debated whether she could risk moving. Then a small, dark-haired figure in a blue cotton nightgown peered around the door, looking for whoever had knocked.
Tifa's breath caught. Unlike when she'd seen Cloud's younger self, she had a hard time recognizing much of herself in the girl on the porch. This little girl, with her confused pout growing deeper as she saw no one, didn't look back at Tifa from mirrors. Her mother had died of sickness, but she hadn't seen her town aflame or her father's bloody body. She hadn't had to make a living in the slums. She hadn't seen a city plate dropped, thousands of people crushed or trapped, in an attempt to kill her. She was naive, her status and her father's relative wealth shielding her from even the mundane horrors of life in poor and insular Nibelheim. All the same… Tifa knew her.
The girl's head turned back toward the door. Tifa pressed closer to the fence, the rough wood harsh against her skin. A tall man with sharp eyes and a crisp mustache stepped onto the porch, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. Tears stung at Tifa's eyes, but she couldn't bear to blink and lose even a single, precious second. He was wearing his favorite robe, a quilted red thing with patches on the elbows. He just kept mending it over and over, saying that it was too comfortable to ever get rid of. A part of her wanted to run forward, wrap her arms around him and that ridiculous robe, and never let go. Yet the larger part of her, the survivor, reminded her that, no matter how much this man looked like her father, he wasn't. This man had his own daughter, whom he was steering back inside.
The door clicked shut, and Tifa stood up from her crouch, sighing. Bittersweet though it had been, it was good to see him again. Perhaps the image of him standing on the early-morning porch could replace her last memory of him, cradled bleeding in her arms. The birds had begun their first songs of the day as she headed back inside the Strife residence. The scent of bacon guided her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Strife was making a farmer's breakfast of potatoes, bacon, ham, eggs, onions and tomatoes. The unpeeled potatoes were already boiling in the pot, a testimony to how long she'd been outside. Vincent and Cloud seemed to be helping as well, gathering items to set the table.
"Morning," she greeted, her voice still a little rough with suppressed emotion. "Are the others up yet?"
Looking up from the silverware, Cloud answered, "Denzel and Cloud are still getting ready."
"Not morning people?" she teased.
Cloud shook his head as he walked past her to the small dining room. "Cloud was up before Denzel, but decided to wait for him."
It was odd hearing Cloud talk about his younger self, and judging by the way he shifted as he spoke, it was awkward for him as well.
"What about Yuffie?" she asked as Cloud laid down the silverware while Vincent set out the plates, an oddly domestic scene. "I'm sure she's not ready to go yet."
Cloud's mouth twitched. "I thought of that, so I told her about the first wonder of Nibelheim. She's out retrieving it now."
Tifa started to set out the glasses, pulling them from a wooden cabinet. "The wonders, huh? It's been so long, I've forgotten what they are. What's the first one? It must have been good to get her up."
"How the water from the tower always came out red."
She paused for a moment, lost in memory. "You know, it's odd now, but I simply accepted that as a fact of life when we were kids." She set a glass down with a soft thunk. "Why would Yuffie be interested in that though?"
"Because a Phoenix summon is what's dyeing the water," Cloud stated.
"A materia in the water tower?" Tifa blinked at him. How could a powerful summon like that have ended up in such a strange place? "Did someone hide it there?" Cloud only shrugged. She tilted her head, as another thought bothered her. "Did coming back here help you remember that?" she asked in a soft voice.
There was a long uncomfortable pause before Cloud answered, his voice equally quiet. "It's one of Zack's memories. Being in this house, I've been getting a few of my own, but…"
Without saying anything else, he slipped out of the room. Vincent, who'd been a silent red shadow as they talked, also went back to the kitchen. Left alone, she silently berated herself. Talking with Cloud could be difficult at times, never knowing when you might touch on something painful. Of course he never got angry when it happened, he just - ran away. Evasion wasn't all he was good at; wallowing in guilt was another of his specialities. For all Cloud's physical strength, he was surprisingly fragile emotionally. For Tifa, who faced her griefs head-on, his constant retreats were frustrating in the extreme, but she was never sure how far it was safe to push him. Rather than pursue the subject, she sighed, and headed out to go find Yuffie before trouble did.
Trouble, Yuffie had decided long ago, made a habit of following her. She could admit that she brought about half of it on herself, but the other half was completely not her fault. How was she to know the people in Nibleheim got up freakishly early? Or that they owned really big dogs? Seriously, the dogs were about the same size as the local wolves, with attitudes to match.
She crouched behind someone's chimney, with a hundred pound mutt barking and scratching below her, and contemplated her options. Cloud had woken her at an unholy hour, letting her know about a summon materia ripe for the taking. She'd been in such a hurry to grab it, she'd left without any useful equipment. Heck, she was still in her pajamas! The dog snarled up at her - its teeth were huge - and she wished she'd brought along some dream powder. Its owner would be coming out to check on it soon, and she knew Cloud and Tifa wanted to keep a low profile.
What to do, she mused. She'd intended to work her way along the roofs until she reached the one nearest the water tower, but with the dogs barking and stirring each other up, she didn't have time. She looked at the long stretch between herself and the tower. She might make it… or she might end up as dog food. Yuffie shook her head, banishing the thought. No way, she was too awesome for that to happen.
Collecting herself, she judged the gap, prepared herself, and leapt. Inches below her, she could hear the dog's teeth snapping shut. She landed precariously on the plank platform surrounding the water tank and windmilled her arms, smirking once she caught her balance. From a crouching start, she bounded up the tank's side, then, teetering on the wooden rim, she peered into the reddish water. Sure enough, there was a glinting red summon materia submerged inside, just as Cloud said. She took a deep breath before plunging into the icy water. The mountain might be in the middle of summer, but nights were still cold at such high elevations. The water up here never got warm. Wrapping her hand around the crystal, she kicked off the bottom of the tank. She broke the surface with a whooshing gasp and clambered back up, digging her fingernails into the rough wood.
Once again on the dry planks, she was faced with making it back to the Strife's house, sopping wet, and with that dumb dog and now its owner still in the way. Leaping back onto the roof of the house she'd originally launched from was out; the angle wrong and too obvious. Disgruntled, with her back pressed against the tank's side, Yuffie considered how best to make a run for it.
After peering over the edge to check where the dog's owner was, she shimmied around to the other side of the tank. Seeing that side all clear of onlookers, she gently let herself down before hightailing it to the closest fence to hide behind. No one seemed to have spotted her. Perfect. She took a moment to admire the red materia clutched in her shivering hands. She fed a smidgen of energy into the orb, producing just enough heat to warm her hands back up. Thank Leviathan that Phoenix was a fire affiliated summon; Shiva would have frozen the tank solid.
Sneaking behind the houses, she thought over the significance of a town that would have been burnt to the ground in a few years, then rebuilt, holding a phoenix summon. Was it a sign? Yuffie didn't consider herself particularly superstitious, though many people back home in Wutai were, but she thought there was a lot more to materia than just their practical use. If the group hadn't taken other actions to change things, like burning Jenova, would simply removing this summon have prevented Nibelheim from being destroyed? Or at least kept it from being burnt and reborn?
She was surprised to see Tifa coming towards her around a corner. At first, Yuffie thought the older girl was coming to scold her. She instantly decided to pin it on Cloud. After all, he was the one to mention the summon, completely setting her up. Before she could launch her defense, Tifa handed her a towel, clean but scratchy and worn. She didn't care, it was dry and could make her dry. That was all that mattered to her in that moment.
"Thanks," she accepted through chattering teeth.
"Of course. You're lucky were not here later in the year." Tifa gave a shake of her head before turning back to the Strife's home "Come on, breakfast will be done soon. We'll need to eat fast if we want to be gone before anyone else wakes up."
By the time they came in through the back door, everyone else had already started in on the hearty looking breakfast. At this point Yuffie's stomach started to chew at her spine. Dashing up the steep narrow stairs to their borrowed room, she threw on some dry clothes. Then, channeling the smallest, most controlled Tornado she could, she tumble dried her soaked clothes. Despite her care, the window in the room still rattled ominously, while every thing loose and light weight was tossed around. With that done, she stuffed her belongings into her pack, dropped it by the door, then jumped down the stairs, making Cloud, on his way up, duck to avoid being kicked in the head.
"Yuffie," he said solemnly.
She turned to look up at him, expecting to be scolded as he and Tifa had taken to doing after becoming parents. Instead all he did was repeat Tifa's earlier admonition. "Eat fast, we're leaving soon."
Sweet, she'd gotten out of being lectured twice today. Running into the dinning room where the others were still seated, she threw herself into the chair next to Spike, startling him. In the middle of the table on a folded towel sat a large cast-iron skillet. Removing the heavy lid revealed steaming golden brown potatoes and eggs, dotted with the reds of crisp bacon, savory ham and fresh tomatoes. The aroma of pepper, onion and bacon was coiling in the air.
Yuffie frowned slightly. What was it with the West and big breakfasts? Sure, it smelled and looked good, but it would weigh her down. This was the sort of meal you had after you were done for the day, when you had time to curl up and digest. Still, not one to do things on an empty stomach, she took a modest serving.
"Um… Yuffie?" Spike wavered.
"Humm?" Yuffie cocked her head to look at him, mouth full of egg.
"Thanks for yesterday. For playin' with me, and bein' so nice."
Yuffie beamed at the kid. "Of course! I'm a nice person, no matter what some people say. I'm more than nice, I'm awesome!"
Across from her, Tifa rolled her eyes.
Yuffie grinned and shoved a potato into her mouth. She thought it was really cool, seeing this young soft side to Cloud before he became a grump. She wondered how this younger version might grow up. They had already changed his future. Following that line, what would her younger self be like, if they really could put a stop to the war? A world where her father wasn't always in a war counsel, hearing about the deaths of their warriors, the steady loss of lives and land. Where she wouldn't grow up surrounded by so many guards to sneak away from. She may end up being less skilled as a result, but the exchange, her skills against many lives of her warriors and her people, would be worth it. Her people wouldn't be broken, forced to abandon their pride and their honor to survive. To become a cheap tourist attraction for Western society.
The scraping of chairs caused her to look up from her plate. Vincent and Tifa were both standing, collecting their plates. Mrs. Strife also stood, swiftly taking the plates from them. Tifa thanked her, then turned towards Yuffie and Denzel.
"I'm going to go get our packs, you two hurry and finish. We should have left by now." She glanced at the window, where morning light was gently filtering in.
Yuffie waved her on. She'd eat faster if the food wasn't so dense. It felt like she was eating a sponge or brick. A tasty sponge or brick, sure, but this was not a fast meal. Denzel and Spike seemed to be inhaling theirs, but Yuffie didn't think she was going to able to finish. When Tifa and Cloud came back down she gave up, pushing her plate forward.
"Time to go?"
Cloud gave a nod, and they all followed him down the hall to the back door. He put his hand on the knob, but turned back before opening it, eyes scanning the house before settling on their hostess. Yuffie flinched and looked away from his eyes. Cloud, like Vincent, closed himself off and hid his emotions. But unlike their friend, he'd never been able to keep his feelings from showing through his eyes. Love, hope, sorrow, nostalgia, regret. A lump formed in Yuffie's throat. She was lucky that even when her country had been taken from her, she still had her home, her father. Even if they hadn't always gotten along. She had never lost him.
When Cloud spoke, his voice was raw and broken. "Thank you, for everything."
Mrs. Strife looked stunned and confused at the show of emotions. Yuffie knew that the woman couldn't understand the true gravity of the moment, never would, but that didn't stop her from reaching out to Cloud. Maybe to hug him, certainly to try and comfort, but he turned away and went out the door quickly. Denzel ducked out next, followed by Tifa. The martial artist at least stopped by the confused woman, giving her a reassuring smile. "We'll look after him." Then she too was gone.
Cloud's mom wasn't the only one looking unsure. Spike shifted awkwardly, uncertain about the suddenly somber mood. Without thinking about it, Yuffie pulled the boy into a hug. It took him a moment to realize what was going on before he returned the gesture, clinging tightly.
"Hang tough, kid." She gave him a cocky grin as she pulled back. "You're going to grow up awesome."
Letting go, she went out into the cool morning air. It was lighter now, and dew had collected on the tarps they'd laid down over the garden last night. Behind her, she could hear Mrs. Strife admonishing Vincent to look after them properly. Yuffie didn't catch all of what she said, because she noticed something was missing from the garden: three nearly ten feet tall bright gold birds. She saw the others all clustered at the corner of the house, peering around towards the front. She called out, "Hey, what gives? Where are the birds?"
Denzel shushed her, then waved her over with a sheepish expression on his face. "We kinda have a problem."
Curious, she squeezed in to have a look. Just inside the front garden gate, surrounded by the birds, was a dark-haired little girl. White blouse, blue denim shorts, and so unmistakably Tifa.
Cloud was not ready for this. He still felt too raw - seeing his mother alive and well, being a stranger in the home he grew up in, fending off the curiosity and youth of his younger self. Last night had been a minefield of questions. Denzel had answered most, and he was pathetically grateful, but that also piled on more guilt. What sort of parent ran away and made their son fight their battles? He really wasn't a role-model. He'd failed and let Denzel die. Just like he had failed Zack and Aerith. It wasn't much consolation that the phoenix down had worked, he had still let it happen.
And there had been the reactor, and the memories of the last time he'd been in that place. He had avoided it all this time for a reason. Fear, betrayal, desperation, rage, the first bite of Masamune. When entering this time, he'd been keenly aware of Jenova. As soon as he set foot inside, he'd felt her. Static, an itch, a pull under his skin, in the back of his mind. Felt the consuming flames as he watched her burn, screaming inside his head. He had tried to reach out to her. Vincent and Tifa had held him back. And before all that, the manor. Drowning in green memories, some his, some not.
He wanted out, gone from this place. He was half tempted to use a chocobo lure to bring the birds away from the younger Tifa, but decided against it. She would just follow after them. As the Mayor's daughter, she wouldn't get in trouble being in someone else's yard. And as he'd seen with his own self yesterday, a kid's curiosity wouldn't be deterred simply by the birds walking away. Why was she even up this early? The Lockharts weren't known for rising with the sun. He didn't get long to contemplate his bad luck before he heard his younger self coming up behind them. Undoubtedly he was wondering why they hadn't left yet.
The younger one peeked curiously around them, then squeaked in surprise. "T-Tifa?"
There went any hope of leaving unnoticed. Though he didn't blame the boy. It had been a dream of his, to be friends enough with Tifa that she'd come over to his house.
Hearing her name, the young girl looked up and beamed at them, full of delight. "Cloud! When did you get chocobos?"
His younger self shuffled forward. "They're not mine," he explained.
It was very odd watching the two kids interact. Suddenly, he felt old. Tifa, next to him, laced her fingers with his and rested her head on his shoulder. Her voice was gentle, full of warmth. "You were a cute kid."
"So were you," he replied instinctively.
She smiled at him, dimples appearing in her cheeks. "I'll remember that. But right now…" she nodded toward their counterparts. His was trying to wave them over. In frustration Cloud raked his hand through his hair. Best to get this over with.
He studied the contrasts between themselves and their counterparts as he approached. Just a few years difference between them, but he and Tifa were taller, with more defined muscles. His younger self was a skinny, scrappy thing with bony elbows and scraped knees; the younger Tifa was softer than his Tifa, slightly pudgy with baby fat and an easy life. Their faces were gentle and open, curious. No trace of wariness, no old scars mental or physical. In their small lives, though their concerns and troubles must seem quite large, there was no omen that presaged the nightmares he and Tifa had lived through.
These kids were going to grow up differently, with different lives. Cloud almost stumbled as the thought struck him. He'd thought of it, just a little, back aboard the Shera, during the planning. But it was different, now, to think of it while looking at these young, unjaded faces. Where would they go? The Shinra? It might not survive, and SOLDIER was even less likely to. He couldn't see his younger self staying here in Nibelheim. What would he do? Run deliveries, be a mechanic, race chocobos? Or something completely different? And what of Tifa? What future stretched before her?
Standing next to them now, he felt his frustration at the delay subside, bemusement and a strange sense of awe overriding it.
His double smiled proudly at them. "Cloud, this is Tifa! Tifa's double-, um, doublejer!" the kid stumbled over the odd word.
Cloud frowned slightly. Doublejer? He looked at the others confused. Was it bad that he couldn't understand his younger self?
"I think you mean doppëlganger," Yuffie supplied.
Tifa's counterpart was obviously lost in this conversation. "I'm a what?"
His younger self clarified. "You two," he said while pointing between the two girls, "look alike and have the same name." The kid was beaming at this point. Cloud reflected that this was probably a highlight in his life thus far. Adventures, and a chance to impress the only kid in the village he really liked.
The young girl seemed to consider her older self, playing nervously with her hair, twisting the tips of the dark fringe. "We do?" she asked.
"Yeah! So do the two of us!" His counter part grabbed hold of his hand and Cloud tensed, but nothing happened. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but he'd paid extra attention to avoid getting close to his younger self the day before, just in case. Being part of Project S made him leery, and yesterday in the reactor had only reinforced his paranoia about his transferred alien cells. Could the J-cells or S-cells rub off on his younger self, infect him somehow? What about memory transferal? As gently as he could, he detached himself from the other's grip, not wanting to prolong contact. Just in case.
"Cloud, I'm sorry, but we have got to go." At the boy's crestfallen expression, he continued, "We'll meet again, I promise." He would like to keep an eye on his family from this time just to make sure they were okay, and that his actions didn't screw things up for them.
"Claudia!" A masculine shout came from the front of the Lockhart's yard. Cloud had to peer around Nijoror to see Mayor Lockhart standing on his porch, clearly displeased to find three large chocobos in his neighbor's yard. Cloud groaned. This was not how today was supposed to go. Moments later, his mom came out onto her own porch, looking very unimpressed with the world.
"Good morning, Brian, you're up early. Is there a problem?"
Lockhart ignored the slight jab, staring at the birds with bristling brows. "Claudia, how the hell did you manage to buy three chocobos without my knowledge?" His gaze shifted, and softened just a degree. "And Tifa, get out of that yard. I've told you not to go over there."
The girl pouted. "But, Daddy!" she protested, placing a hand on Freyr's scaled leg, clearly not wanting to leave.
Mrs. Strife folded her arm across her chest and drew herself up to her full petite height. "What I do and what I buy is my business, Brian, not yours. Though to answer you, the birds, they aren't mine and they are leaving." She turned her head and sent a low key glare at him. He nodded. It was past time to go. But the Strife luck was notorious for being bad.
Mayor Lockhart was crossing his yard, the better to glare over the fence. "And who are these people?" He glared suspiciously at Vincent before casting a glance at the others and freezing, face slackening in shock. Tifa had stepped back, putting Nerthius between herself, her younger self, and her father, both Clouds were still standing together. The mayor recovered himself, beetle-browed and blustery. "Claudia, since when did you have a second brat?"
Cloud clenched his fists. Next to him, his younger self did the same. Neither spoke. Cloud didn't trust himself to not say something he would regret later, either by upsetting his mom, Tifa, or messing the plan up more that it already was. To his surprise the one who spoke up was the younger Tifa.
"Cloud's not a brat, he's nice." She stepped in front of the two of them, shielding them from her dad. Cloud was speechless. He couldn't recall any childhood instance of Tifa standing up for him like this. "And their gah, gang doubles. I have one too." She stumbled a little over the strange word, but spoke proudly, grabbing hold of Tifa's arm and pulling her out from behind the hen to show her dad.
Lockhart started, and almost reached over the fence, like he was trying to grab his daughter away from this strange revelation. "Gang double?" he questioned, eyes fixed on the two girls. His daughter stared back at him defiantly, but the older Tifa flickered her nervous gaze around the yard before ending staring fixedly at a bushel basket-covered plant. The basket was slightly askew, clearly having been pulled around by curious chocobos overnight.
Yuffie huffed loudly, pushing herself to the front of the group. "Doppëlganger. It's pronounced dop-pel-gäng-er. Come on, people, I didn't learn this language so I could teach it to its supposedly native speakers!"
Cloud's mouth twitched. At least some things were still predictable. Yuffie's outburst at least helped him relax. He unclenched his fists and flexed the stiff fingers. "Mayor Lockhart, we're leaving, not causing trouble." He was just tall enough to see over the fence. Curtains were twitching in neighboring windows, the town's other residents watching the latest drama unfold at the Strife household.
"Not until I know what is going on. Who are you kids?" Lockhart demanded, moving to block the front gate as if he thought they were going to ride the birds bareback right through the middle of town.
This time Tifa answered, brows drawn together at her father's action. Her voice was firm, if quieter than usual. "We're just passing through. Mrs. Strife was kind enough to let us stay the night."
"And they have a lot of traveling to do," his mom added meaningfully.
A worn voice interrupted her. "Claudia, what have you gotten yourself into now? Stealing business from the inn?" The elderly couple who lived on the Lockhart's other side came walking up, probably to see what the Mayor had been yelling about. "We get so few visitors, you should be ashamed of stealing guests from -" They faltered as they arrived at the gate, staring at Cloud standing beside his counterpart. "Well, of course, unless it's family," they amended, eyes riveted to Cloud. His skin crawled as they inspected him. It was too similar to Hojo's labs in the past, like he wasn't human but a curiosity, a specimen.
"What's this, a group of orphans?" Now that one set of neighbors had joined the conversation, the rest were coming out of the woodwork. "Is that one yours? Left him behind in Junon?"
He glanced at his mom. She'd been to Junon? She'd never mentioned that before. In fairness, she had never talked much about her life before he'd been born. She frowned and set a hand on the young Cloud's shoulder, her reply an icy "No". It was irrational, but it hurt him to hear that. Of course, she wouldn't know. From her perspective, she had a kid and it wasn't him. This woman wasn't his mother, and that would have to be okay. He was a grown man, even if he didn't currently look it. He'd come to grips with his own mother's death years ago. He just felt bad that she had to go through this because of him being here.
Thankfully, someone in the swelling crowd brought up a new question. "By the mountain, where did you get gold chocobos?" One man pushed his way to the front to inspect the birds. His comment brought on a fresh round of muttering. Cloud couldn't fathom why though. Why would the residents of Nibelheim care about gold chocobos? How would they even know about them? The man continued, "Wasn't it a gold that won the Breeders Cup?"
"The longshot, yeah. I bet good gil on a blue in that race. Lost it all."
He listened to the old men rib each other. Was that what all this was about? The races they'd entered their birds in, in Costa del Sol. He hadn't thought racing a popular sport in Nibelheim, but if thought hard, he could vaguely remember people sitting at the inn clustered around the tv, cheering at times. He hadn't cared back then. It hadn't been nearly as exciting as news reports about SOLDIER, and the other kids, if they saw him watching, would tease him, commenting about his "long-lost family" or "why don't you go back to your flock?".
"Claudia, I thought you said you had no relation to that stable. If you took my husband's gil,you should return it." One woman demanded.
His mother's frown, somehow, deepened, but Yuffie was quick to butt in. "The betting doesn't work like that. Owners don't get what the crowd bets, they get the purse."
Not unless they bet on their own birds, Cloud thought. They had made a lot of gil on the Breeders Cup. He hadn't checked how they'd done on the later races, content to find out once they had a better PHS signal. That, and after one of their jockeys got into an accident and a new one had been assigned to them by the track, he'd been leery of making contact while near Nibelheim. Call him paranoid, but weird accidents followed by quick unknown replacements made him suspicious. Best to get out of the area, away from possible trouble, then confirm who the new jockey was.
"Besides, she's not the owner," Yuffie continued before Cloud could stop her.
"Oh, and how would you know that?"
"These birds here are ours," Cloud quickly interjected, before Yuffie could claim ownership of the racing birds. He added, "This is clearly a small town - if the Strifes owned Chocobos, you would have known before now." Nothing but what really mattered stayed secret in this town. Much like Shinra in that respect.
"And you are?" the unfortunate gambler asked. The crowd's attention, which had only ever been partially deserted by the chocobo question, snapped back to Cloud.
Shit. He'd already given his name to the Strifes; he couldn't lie in front of them. He thought frantically. "Wallace. Cloud Wallace."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Yuffie give him a sly grin. She was definitely going to tell Barret about this later.
"And the rest of you?" someone else pressed.
"Yuffie, Vincent, Denzel and Tifa," Yuffie flippantly introduced the others. "And you are?"
But the man didn't answer. Instead he blurted, "Tifa! That can't be right."
The villagers stood muttering to each other, their eyes growing unfriendly, darting between the two Clouds and the two Tifas. "It can't be a coincidence." "A trick?" "These are strange times." "Spies come to steal and replace our kids." The theories grew more and more outlandish. Finally someone asked Tifa, "And your last name?"
Tifa quickly glanced at him, before giving a small, polite smile. "Wallace."
Both of their counterparts gaped at them, while Mayor Lockhart choked "You're related?" Cloud wondered what horrified thoughts were running through the man's mind.
"No." She shook her head. "It's a common last name where we're from."
"And that is?" the man glared.
"Midgar," Denzel jumped in ,"and we really should be getting back there, so… bye." He cast Cloud a glance seeking approval. Cloud nodded back. Activating his chocobo lure, he led the birds back behind the house to where the packs were, without looking back towards the crowd. He wasn't comfortable about leaving his mom to deal with the fallout, but they'd already stayed far too long, and the questioning could only get worse. Saddling Freyr for Denzel, he could still hear the buzz of the villagers talking out front. He also heard the smaller footsteps of kids approaching them, crunching in the rocky soil.
"Hey chocobo-butt, see your family came to visit," the first of the bullies called out. The three behind him snickered. The lead was a tall boy, around Denzel's height and about twelve if Cloud figured correctly. He and his friends had made what he could remember of his childhood miserable. They usually hadn't actually followed him into the fenced yard, though - perhaps because the adults were all distracted out front, they were feeling bolder than usual.
"What do you want, Aric?" his counterpart challenged. He was a foot shorter than the older boy, but his chin was up, his fists knotted, his chest puffed out. He looked ridiculous, like a bantam rooster picking a fight with a hawk. Tifa had told him, when trying to help him remember his past, that he had been a scrappy kid. Never backing down, and getting beaten to a pulp because of it. Watching now, he could tell the bullies didn't consider him a threat, just a form of entertainment. Before things could escalate any further he called out, "Hey Cloud, come here for a moment."
The younger boy's body jerked towards him, curiosity propelling him, but aggression and defensive kept his eyes locked on the bullies for a few seconds longer before he finally looked at Cloud. "Umm… what is it?" Cloud twitched a hand, beckoning, and the younger boy walked over with a cautious look at the local boys.
"Hah, the freaks look identical," Aric jeered. But before anyone else could add another comment, Cloud casually unslung First Tsurugi from its harness.
That got everyone's attention. Even Vincent, who so far today had been more an observer than an active participant, was now on guard. Ignoring them, he focused his attention on his younger self. The boy was eyeing the massive sword with interest. "I want to show you something." He walked over to Fenrir, opening the side compartments with a click. Behind him, he heard the boy gasp - and behind that, a quickly bit-off curse from one of the bullies.
"Watch," he instructed as he began to disassemble the sword. First the twin short swords, hilts snapping into place before he slid them into their spots inside Fenrir. Next, the twin long swords with deep cutouts along the blades to catch and hold his opponents weapon, followed by the hollow blade with its extended arm guard. Glancing over to the bullies, he was satisfied with their fascinated yet wary expressions. They wouldn't be giving them any more problems but for good measure he pressed the release on the base blade, opening it into battle mode, before resting it on his shoulder.
In a low voice so the others wouldn't hear, he spoke to his younger self. "Versatility is often better than strength. Having multiple options and knowing what they are and how to use them will serve you better than rushing in on pure aggression." He nodded towards the bullies. "You're faster than them, right?" The boy nodded yes. "Then run."
His counterpart looked shocked, then angry. "But -"
He cut him off. "Learn the terrain, get them split up so you can fight them one on one. Aim for their knees and ankles, their arms and wrists. Don't aim to hurt them, aim to make them so tired they can't keep after you. If the others show up, don't stay for an unfair fight, run." He would have liked to add more, but he heard the distant sound of rotor blades bouncing off the mountain peaks. He shot a quick glance toward Vincent. It seemed the gunman had also picked up on the sound.
"I believe it is time we go," the man said.
"Yeah." Cloud turned to the others. "Mount up." He closed the side compartments on Fenrir, returned the base blade to its resting form, and slung it into the harness on his back. Straddling his motorcycle, he looked again at the young boy who shared his past. "We'll meet again. And - I'm sorry for any trouble us being here might cause." Without waiting for the other to reply, he revved the bike and was gone through the back gate, the rest of his party following after. The last thing he heard wasn't his younger self calling goodbye, but the town's photographer running after them.
"Wait! I never got a photo!"
*Notes
Claudia and Brian are their canon names. Though we're not fond of either, we are trying to stick as best we can to canon.
Doppëlganger is a German word with a sinister meaning; a malevolent entity that looks like and replaces someone, but has since been hijacked by English to mean a look-alike without any of the negativity of the original word. We made a slight nod to this with one of the villager's reactions.