Denzel would recognize him anywhere. Even though the man was facing away, Denzel was positively sure it was Cloud. There was no way around it. The black sweater, the blonde hair, the massive sword. Denzel couldn't believe he actually carried his sword around in town like that. Wouldn't people be...nervous around a weapon like that? What exactly was Cloud anticipating to happen?

Denzel gulped, unable to move. Unable to breathe.

A patron in the cafe exited, and the bell above the door jingled. Denzel's muscles tensed, as though the blonde seated at the window would turn at the sound and see him. Turn and stand and pursue him. He'd catch him.

"Get out the way, kid," the patron sneered, shoving past, but Denzel wasn't listening and barely moved. He simply stared.

Cloud sat, coffee mug in hand, just looking out at the sea. The sheathed sword was resting across the chair next to him, easily within arm's reach. Occasionally, he glanced over to an empty table. Quite a few times he did this, actually. Denzel looked around the cafe. There was nobody else there aside from the waitress now. Cloud turned as the waitress approached with a coffee pot in hand. Yes, he could see the side of Cloud's face now. It was definitely him.

Breath out, Denzel told himself. Go back and get Barret. He'd know what to do.

But before he could move, another person entered the cafe. An older woman with hair tight in a bun and a sad look on her face. She didn't approach the counter nor order anything from the waitress. She went straight to Cloud and stood next to him, speaking, but Denzel couldn't make anything out.

Cloud said something to her and she sat down. The older woman was frightened, that much was obvious. She glanced around as if the walls would tumble down at any minute, and it seemed Cloud was asking her questions. Short questions. The woman started rooting through her purse, searching for something. An envelope. Denzel watched, fascinated. She slid the envelope across the table, and Cloud looked inside. Denzel couldn't see what it was, but Cloud deemed it satisfactory because he nodded. She stood, and Denzel saw her hands were shaking terribly. Denzel retreated as she exited the cafe.

When he peeked again, he immediately jolted away because Cloud had stood and was putting his sword onto his back. Run. Just run. To the safety of Barret and Marlene. To the airship. To Kalm.

But there was something else nagging in the back of his head. Some other part of him wanted, more than anything, to reach out to Cloud. To hug him close and feel that pain in his chest go away. To break down like Marlene had and have someone comfort him.

Cloud turned to the door and Denzel shrank away, but kept looking. He could see Cloud's face fully now. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale, more so than usual. Almost sickly. This worried Denzel suddenly. Maybe Marlene was right. Maybe he did need help.

No. Denzel reminded himself of that day he'd run, that day when Cloud had turned on him in a daze and nearly sliced his arm off. There had been nothing in Cloud's eyes when it happened. A blank stare. An empty voice. It was just a shell Denzel had seen. Something incapable of reaction, and Cloud had looked at the blood trailing from Denzel's arms as one examines an insect struggling on the hot concrete underfoot. It had been terrifying.

And now… Denzel watched as Cloud dropped a handful of gil on the table. It was clear he was about to leave. Denzel's heart raced even faster, impossibly so.

He frantically looked for somewhere to hide. Cloud would exit the cafe at any instant and then he'd definitely see Denzel. And then Denzel would either be cut apart by the phantom from his nightmares or he'd be comforted by the guy who'd found him half-dead near a church years ago. Both seemed equally likely, and Denzel wasn't about to take any chances.

He shoved himself in the alley between the cafe and its neighboring storefront. A puddle of garbage water covered his feet with a slosh, and he stood perfectly still, hoping the shadows concealed him. The bell on the door jingled and Cloud emerged. He stepped into Denzel's view, looking either way down the street. He adjusted the weight on his back and walked down the street, opposite the direction of where Barret and Marlene were undoubtedly waiting.

Denzel knew he could just leave and pretend he'd never seen Cloud. But what if Marlene was right? What if something awful had happened to Cloud?

Run. Just run away. Yet there was always a small piece of him that wanted badly to believe that Cloud was not a monster, but rather just lost in grief. Like all of them had been. Still were. Death made the living do crazy things.

The window of opportunity was disappearing. What were the chances he'd run into Cloud again? When was the next time he'd even be in Junon? Denzel didn't want to lose this moment, and if Marlene was right, then…

Making up his mind, Denzel left the alleyway and bolted down the street. He scanned the sidewalks. It didn't take long to spot Cloud again. The crowds actually fanned out around him, as though everyone wanted to make sure he went about his business unimpeded.

A safe distance was essential, so Denzel kept at least an entire city block apart as he tailed Cloud. The blonde moved quickly, and Denzel struggled to follow a few times. There were several moments when Cloud looked back and Denzel was sure, so damn sure, that he'd been spotted, but then Cloud would continue as though nothing were out of place.

They descended to the lower tier, away from the crowded tourist areas, away from the shopping district and the hotels and the fancy restaurants. The streets were thinning, and Denzel began to doubt his plan. Just as he was about to succumb to his nerves and rush back to the safety of Barret and Marlene, Cloud stopped in front of an abandoned tenement. A handful of junkies had been hanging on the stoop, but they scattered once Cloud approached.

Cloud entered.

Denzel held back, unsure if he should follow. The junkies were shooting up in broad daylight and those passing by didn't even give it a second look. This was definitely not a good part of town. He cursed himself for being so stupid, but now that he'd gotten this far, he knew he had to go on. He expected somehow that someone, anyone, would point and exclaim his presence, but that didn't happen. Nobody paid him any attention at all.

So he entered the building. The door was completely missing its handle. Inside were scraps of garbage, rotting furniture, broken bottles, and torn fragments of clothing. It was a mess, and judging by the black soot on the walls, had once been on fire.

Slivers of light cut in through the boards in the windows and he could see clearly that there was a basement. An open door swung on its hinges directly down the hallway, inviting down into darkness. This must've been where Cloud had gone because the stairs and all other doors were undisturbed under a thick layer of dust and ash.

An alarm went off in his head, distant but pervading. A prelude to fear. Do not go into that basement.

Then he heard a scream. A man's voice yelled out in pain.

Denzel's heart jumped. Was that…?

The screaming came again, loud and terrifying, like someone having their arm wrenched off. Or worse. Cold fear pinned his muscles tight. There was no way he could go down there, but another curiosity grew under his skin. He wanted… well, he wasn't quite sure what he wanted. It was a vague desire to see what could cause someone to scream like that. A distant itch of pure intrigue.

Timidly, he approached the basement. A dim light was below. Wooden stairs terminated into concrete, anything beyond masked by a corner. He could hear voices. He could hear Cloud's voice! Yes, it was definitely him, but he was talking low.

Don't do it, Denzel. He could practically hear Marlene telling him this. You'll get in trouble!

But now Denzel had to know. There was no way around it. He needed to know…

One foot stepped down, then the other and the other. At the bottom he pressed his back to the corner, remaining out of sight.

Cloud was speaking, "—and I wish I didn't need to get involved here."

Denzel took a tiny glimpse, and immediately fell back. Cloud was right there, his back to the stairs, sword in hand dripping with red. The basement was a barren concrete square. A lantern hung on a hook, illuminating the squalid scene. There was a man curled in pain, blood leaking through hands wrapped over his abdomen. Two other men stood to either side of Cloud. One was twirling a dagger and looked right over just as Denzel had peeked out. Denzel withdrew and held his breath but there was no sudden movement, no shouts of exposure.

"I rarely get directly involved like this, you see," Cloud continued, "But you've purposefully evaded a contract you were assigned. Your actions exposed a supplier in Wutai and you killed a fellow associate."

Denzel's mind raced. He couldn't make sense of any of it.

"You understand it's like this for a reason," Cloud said, strangely calm in the circumstance, "If I didn't kill you then there'd be no order. There'd be no reason for anyone to follow any rules. We can't have that."

The sound of footsteps. Cloud was perhaps pacing now.

"F-f-fuck, man!" a desperate voice muttered, "I...I just thought -"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," Cloud interrupted coldly.

The swing of steel sliced through the air. A gurgling scream sounded so loud and gut-wrenching that Denzel covered his ears. An eerie silence followed.

Denzel remained glued to the wall, regretting every decision he'd ever made in his life that led to this point, standing here, listening to someone die. He prayed he was not making a single noise.

Cloud sighed. "What a waste."

"A waste of your time, sir," another man spoke now.

"Just tell Wutai it's been handled."

"Yes, boss."

Cloud would no doubt be coming up the stairs, and Denzel had no plan whatsoever. His stomach was churning in knots, ready to expel its contents all over the damn stairs.

Denzel forced his shaking legs to move, carefully — quietly! — up the stairs, one creak at a time. At any moment he was expecting Cloud to grab his backpack, but somehow the three men remained in the basement. Denzel reached the top of the stairs and ran out, eagerly filling his lungs with outside air.

And what now? Cloud was definitely not in trouble, and he knew the phantom Cloud in his nightmares was very real. The cold vacant expression that had cut towards him that one afternoon was no temporary state. It was the man himself. He'd fallen into something far worse than ever imagined.

Denzel hid behind a truck parked in the street, terrified.

Cloud soon exited the building, alone, sword sheathed, though there was a light spatter of blood on his right arm. He walked off as if nothing at all had just transpired, and Denzel fixated on his form until he disappeared. Trying now to build up the courage to follow and perhaps, just maybe, confront him or more likely crawl into his arms crying and wishing that none of this were real, Denzel stepped away from the parked truck.

Immediately, hands grabbed him from behind and threw him against the hood. Denzel flailed in defense. It was one of the guys from the basement that had been with Cloud, the one twirling the daggers. He had short black hair and a lanky body, and his eyes shone dimly with drugs.

"Hey, I saw you, kid," the man snarled, "Yeah, you were watching us just now. You were in that building right there." He pointed at the decrepit place.

Denzel shook his head. "N-n-no way! I was just walkin' by!"

The man pulled a dagger and held it against Denzel's neck.

"I think you were spying. Who's paying you, kid? You better start talking right now!"

Denzel forgot all about the dagger in his own backpack, forgot all about Marlene and Barret and Cloud, even. His brain frantically tried to reason a way out, but the blade against his throat muddled any sane thoughts. He could say nothing. He could do nothing.

"Not talking, huh? Someone hired you, and I intend to find out exactly who."

The man put his other hand in his pocket, and Denzel felt his stomach curl, heart pumping insanely fast. This must be what a heart attack feels like, he decided. But the other man withdrew only a cellphone.

With one hand, the man dialed and put the phone up to his ear. The dagger was still pressed into Denzel's neck.

"Hey boss. I found someone snooping around the building. Spying on us."

Oh fuck. He's talking to Cloud. Denzel knew it. There was no way out of this now. Cloud would see him and there'd be no choice but to… to… do what, exactly? Denzel had no idea. Surely Cloud wouldn't hurt him, but he'd already hurt him once before and at this point nothing was off the table.

"He's a kid," the man replied over the phone, "I don't know, thirteen or something. But he won't talk. Won't say who sent him. Want me to just kill him or you wanna interrogate?"

Then the man frowned.

"But he's—"

Another silence as he listened. His eyes narrowed on Denzel.

"Yeah, okay, boss. I understand. No problem." He hung up, upset with whatever he'd been told. "Looks like it's your lucky day, kid."

Suddenly, a shadow emerged behind the man, a tall foreboding figure. A recognizable silhouette...

"No," a familiar voice spoke, "It's your lucky day, punk."

The man with the dagger turned, but had zero time to react as a metal fist grabbed his shoulder. Barret threw the man a solid ten paces away and then protectively stood in front of Denzel.

"Get the fuck outta here, before I reconsider not ending your miserable life," Barret spat.

The assassin just smiled and stood, then raised his hands as though in mock surrender and retreated down the block.

Marlene hugged Denzel hard.

"Why did you run off?" she demanded, "What are you doing in this part of town? We were so worried!"

"Yeah." Barret gave Denzel a reproachful look. "You seriously lucky we jes happen to look down here for you. You should never run off like that. 'Specially not in a city like this."

But the boy was still catching his breath and couldn't reply. Marlene finally released him and gazed into his eyes.

"That guy was gonna kill you!" she said, "Was he trying to rob you? Why'd you disappear on us?"

Still Denzel said nothing.

"What you expect, Marlene," Barret huffed, "He learn this sorta shit from Cloud. Jes run off and have everyone worried."

This burned Denzel as he never wanted to be compared to Cloud. Not like that. He glared up at Barret.

Barret continued, unperturbed, "Les get you both home. I'm jes glad ain't nothing bad happened to you."

"Vanilla cake." Denzel spoke the two words softly.

"...What?" Barret looked down at him.

Denzel nodded.

"Let's go home and have that vanilla cake. For Marlene's birthday." He tried to smile, but it dissolved quickly as hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

Barret knelt and hugged him.