Disclaimer: I don't claim characters or copyrighted products that aren't mine. I do claim any concepts, plot, etc. that are.
First off, I'd like to state that I would never kill Cloud… offscreen. I'm always suspicious when characters bring back news of someone's death and that's that. Please enjoy and review!
Chapter Thirty-Six: La Cetra
Just so that no one thinks I'm a thief, like my little brother, I'll have it be known that the clothes from the boxes I found in the secondhand boutiques' back alley doors were not stolen, they were traded. I left my white robes in their place, and I'm sure they're infinitely more valuable than the wrinkled button-down shirt and slacks that I took.
Far enough away from the shops to make me feel less guilty, I sit on a bench and watch the people go by, whether by walking or skateboarding or, further off, riding the trains. Setzer lives somewhere around here, but I can't bring myself to go up to his doorstep just yet.
Well, I didn't want to stand out, and I certainly got what I wanted. I practically blend into the wall, as long as no one looks at my face. The slacks are in particularly terrible condition—they look like they've been through an avalanche. But I needed the fabric to be weak so I could alter the slacks for my tail, so I shouldn't complain.
The tail. No one else that I know, apart from my brother, has a tail. Granted, some people from the Garden—like Sephiroth—had weirder appendages, like a single wing.
No one ever knew what the fight between Cloud and Sephiroth was about. It was a bit of a pastime, actually, to make up stories about what had happened. Sephiroth had killed one of Cloud's friends. Cloud had tried to kill Sephiroth and Sephiroth was out for revenge. Sephiroth was kind of an odd one, honestly. He spent all of his time in the library up at the mansion, and when he looked at you, you didn't want to return the favor.
I suppose there was darkness in his heart, because when Chaos came the first time around, it snapped up Sephiroth's heart like he had been waiting in line.
But anyways, eventually those stories became something of a fantasy and took on a life of their own. Laid out on one of the terraces overlooking the waterfalls that defied logic, we would make up dreams that couldn't possibly be real, like Cloud and Sephiroth had come from a different world far, far away, a world with armies and soldiers, bloodshed and death. We even took names from the volumes of mythology in the mansion's library, and gave those places names, like Nibelheim. Midgar.
Over the years, Cloud's story just became sadder. One day, I said that I didn't want to play that game anymore. The story about Sephiroth being artificially created, about Cloud being forced to become a test subject along with his friend. And especially the part of the story where Cloud had suppressed his own memories and believed that he actually was his friend. Even now, that part still strikes an unpleasant chord in me.
Why did that Mateus ask me what my brother's name was? Did he ask because he knew that I couldn't give him an answer even if I wanted to?
It's just there, an inexplicable gap in my memory. Everything else is perfect except for that one little shameful smudge.
If I hadn't looked up right then, I would have stayed on that bench for another hour maybe before going on to do who knows what. But I do look up, and I see spiky blond hair that I would recognize a mile away.
He strays away from the crowd; even as I watch him in disbelief, he rushes past on the way to a shadowed street running between buildings. Cloud, you died. You shouldn't be here right now.
I stand up. "Cloud!" I shout. But he doesn't even look back.
All of my running is good for something. Three blocks later, I skitter to a stop when I realize he's not going anywhere. He's been chasing somebody, and that somebody is a man in a black leather jacket. My heart skips a beat; no one had seen one of them since the worlds had come together again, except for… her. But she was different. She didn't wear black, she wore white. White, head to toe. A little like my robes.
I crouch behind a pile of crates that smell like oil and sawdust.
"Wait up a second," Cloud says, placating, to the man in black. It's his voice. It's Cloud. This is impossible. He must be some kind of doppelganger created by Chaos. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. About… you being a puppet, and not knowing any better. That was pretty low of me."
The man in black shrugs. "You were right," he says quietly, looking at the ground. "Listen, can we not take this time to pour our guts out? The only reason you see me instead of Sephiroth is because I wanted to warn you. Stop trying to save me. Believe me, I'm not worth it."
I cringe a little from behind my hiding place as Cloud practically tackles the man in black and grabs him by his collar. "Kadaj, I don't care that we wasted the last days on our world trying to kill each other. If you say that you're not worth it, then it'll start to be true."
Kadaj is his name? Why does that name sound familiar? I can't place it, but it lingers in the peripheral vision of my memory, like a word I didn't quite remember correctly.
For a moment, they look like they're going to start a fight. But then Kadaj tells Cloud, "Don't try to make me feel better just so that I'll get rid of Sephiroth for you."
Cloud flinches, but doesn't let go. "You don't have anything else to say?"
Kadaj sighs bitterly; he grasps his hand over Cloud's. And then he says softly, so softly that I can barely hear, "It wasn't supposed to be this way. I was supposed to do what Mother wanted, and everything was supposed to go as planned. I wasn't supposed to start seeing things from your side. I wasn't supposed to think for myself."
That's when all those made-up stories come rushing back to me. Cloud—the Garden's Cloud, the Cloud that was born and raised in the Garden, and died for the Garden—is talking to this person who isn't like anyone I've seen before, and together they're speaking about the fantasies that we wove as if they were fact.
Cloud lets Kadaj go, and Kadaj pulls his hand back as if he's been shocked. Kadaj opens his mouth to say something, but then changes his mind. He turns his back on Cloud, and begins to walk away.
Shaking his head, Cloud goes after him.
"What are you doing, following me?" Kadaj shouts back, nearly hysteric. "You don't know if he'll come out or not. If he does, he'll hurt you. He'll hurt me too, but it's not like he wouldn't anyways."
"You don't want me to get hurt?"
Kadaj stops. "Cloud, do you know how many of your friends would be dead if I hadn't stuck my neck out? Let's start with Bartz, the one who stayed by you when Sephiroth wanted to say 'hi'. And how about Tidus? Do you think Sephiroth ordinarily would have left the job unfinished? And Cecil?"
I gasp. I can't help it, I'm terrible at this stealth thing.
They both stop speaking and turn in my direction; I know they aren't looking my way because they think the sunset's pretty. If I don't stand up now, I'll just look even more suspicious than I do already.
But if this phantom of Cloud knows Cecil, then maybe this was the Cloud that Cecil had meant. As I gather myself to my feet, I call out, "Cloud, you're alive?"
Kadaj rolls his eyes. "It's just one of the inhabitants of this world. They saw your face and thought you were a ghost," he mutters. "You need to keep a lower profile, 'fallen hero'. Maybe cut that hair of yours."
"Is that why you're following me…?" Cloud asks me reluctantly. "Because I'm a ghost. We're both ghosts. You're seeing me because you need to let go. I'm not coming back, so fight and… don't let my death be in vain," he adds after a moment of consideration.
Kadaj smirks. "Someone's done this before…"
I stare at the both of them blankly. "Honestly, I would feel better if you were a ghost, but I'm guessing that's not actually the case. Cecil told me to tell you 'the second self', whatever that means."
For some reason, that makes Kadaj bolt. "I'm not supposed to be hearing this," he explains before he turns on his heel and runs off.
"Kadaj!" Cloud calls after him, and then looks at me. "Good work, Cecil," he mutters under his breath. He stares at me in dazed shock. "I guess you already know who I am. I don't know where we're going just yet, but you're coming with me."
Am I crazy if I genuinely think that this Cloud is not the Cloud I knew, but the Cloud that we dreamt up those years ago in the Garden in our fantasies?