The dog was a six-month old pup, judging by the way his ears hadn't come up yet. And judging by the way he breathed like a black-lung chimney sweep, he wouldn't make it to seven months.

Tifa tended to him like an infant, bandaging his puncture sites all along his shaved hocks. That lab had bled him so dry that he should have had a blood transfusion. There were no vets this side of lowcity.

She laid him down on Cloud's bed in the basement, trying to get him to take food and water. Cloud didn't even have a say in the matter. He was banished to the sofa upstairs.

"Hah and you the one who rescued that red mongrel!" Barrett ribbed.

Cloud thought with a morbid knot of realism that he'd only be out a bed for one night, but in the morning when he felt bursts of warm, smelly breath right on his face, be blinked twice. The big red dog stood with nose inches from Cloud, chuffing to wake him up.

"What the?" Cloud muttered, and the dog wiggled in excitement. Healthy as a horse. Cloud saw that he held a rope in his mouth. "You like, almost died, and you want a walk, now?"

The dog could barely contain his excitement, wriggling his body from side to side while Cloud's eyes peeled to slits. He grabbed the rope, but the dog pulled with a great playful growl, dragging Cloud straight off the couch.

"Good lord!" Cloud yelled flopped on the ground, while the dog dropped the rope, pranced into the kitchen, and brought a huge bowl in his mouth. Cloud sighed.

The big red beast's back came up past Cloud's hips—and he was still a puppy! He had some wolf in him, maybe some Malamute in there somewhere as well, but the red Shepherd was unmistakable.

"C'mere Red, get at my heel. Are you trained?"

The dog came straight up to Cloud, who threw some kitchen scraps in the bowl.

"Sit!"

Red stood still.

"Lay down."

Still nothing.

"Roll over…do the Macarena…go make me a sandwich…"

Nothing.

"Okay, stay!"

Red stood there.

"Good boy!"

Cloud gave him the bowl, Red finished it in seconds. The thing ate them nearly out of house and home.

Out by the back porch, Red hugged Cloud's leg every step of the way tripping him up. Clingy bastard.

"Here Red, go fetch!" Cloud threw a stick and Red dashed after it at the speed of light. Literally, one second he was there, the next, vanished in a blur of fur.

What the hell, Dash Materia!

Red came back with the trunk of a sapling in his mouth, roots dangling on the ground. Cloud slumped halfway to the ground.

Red indeed had a Materia slot, byproduct of the lab. But Cloud couldn't get the ability orb out, nor could he replace it with anything useful. All the dog could do was run fast, and now Cloud couldn't even get the orb out for his own slots on his sword. Lovely.

"What the hell am I going to do with a dog?" Cloud thought out loud, while Red just sat there scratching his ear. A though occurred to him then, something one of Barrett's thugs had said on the train.

"Hmm, fighting eh?" Cloud grabbed a huge chain that he used for his motorcycle. "Come on, Red. Let's go for walkies!"

The mutt jumped up and down like a deer next to Cloud with a huge chain looped around his neck.

They walked down through Sector 6, still AVALANCHE territory. The tribal tattoo around Cloud's left arm granted him safe passage, depending on where he walked. The edge of Sector 5 however was not somewhere someone with his tattoo wanted to walk. They crossed over into Triad territory.

The neighborhood was just as scuzzy as the next, a shanty-town with sheet metal roof-huts iconic of lowcity Slums. A wall with a hole blown through it marked the entrance to the "Wall Market." Cloud walked through here all the time, with long sleeves.

It didn't take them long to notice they had shadows—thugs on all sides, walking in step with Cloud, tattoos of interlocking triangles. Cloud's adrenaline shot up as the circle got smaller. Finally, someone stepped in front of him.

"You lost kid?"

"No," Cloud responded.

"Who you lookin' for?"

"No one." A cocky streak flared in Cloud's spine, so unlike his quiet personality. He had to kick this up a notch. "But your mom's pussy will do."

That did it. Weapons shot out all around him. Cloud cringed afterwards at himself, where had that come from? Now he felt disgusting, like he deserved whatever came his way now. But some evil flash shoved those feelings aside like a huge hand, and Cloud flashed a mean smile like a hunter at play. Dropping the chain in his hand, he almost felt bad for the thugs in front of him.

"Alright Red, sick'em!"

He looked over to find the big red dog lifting his leg on a fire hydrant, and slumped halfway to the ground.

Then the weapons came at him, and Cloud's Buster Sword flew to his hand.

He upslashed two coming at him, one after the other, then jump-spun to throw everyone back. One thug rushed in a downward scimitar swing. Cloud diverolled out of the way, coming up into a sweeping arc-slash that beat the thug's scimitar clear out of his hands. A flowing down-bash knocked him to the ground unconscious. He slip-parried away from the thug's swipe that followed behind him. A monumental powerslash sent the guy flying back into his buddies, splaying all of them across the ground. They were just border guards anyway.

The thugs picked each other up, threw arms over shoulders, and hi-tailed it out of there. Cloud staggered back, sweat dripping from his brow, and drove his sword into the ground. Slumping down cross-legged, heaving great gasping breaths, he peeled his eyes to slit and talked to the hunk of tungsten carbide in front of him.

"Hi Sword. My name's Cloud. I'm 5'9 and weigh 150lbs. Looks like we already have something in common."

Cloud ran a hand through his hair. He really sucked at these heart-to-hearts.

"Look, I know your last master was like a Space Marine, Angeal was the size of a refrigerator after all, but I'm like an ice-chest, and my back hurts. I'm not saying you're fat, you're beautiful. It's just that I'd rather not be swinging around my body-weight all the time. Is there some way you could, I dunno…lose weight? For me?"

With hand clasped in begging prayer, he waited like he actually thought something was going to happen. After a long moment of silence, he slumped his shoulders. Then, a thin ray of light streaked across the blade, running down through the crevasses that locked like puzzle pieces in the cured metal. Cloud froze, and in a flash, the sword broke into seven floating shards that hovered around him in a circle. He leapt up, taken aback, seven more swords flew around him like a weapon menu screen.

"Haha!" he laughed elated, eyes popping out of his sockets. "Wow, did Angeal know his sword could do this? Probably not!"

The Fusion Swords hovered in chaotic dissonance as Cloud chose one that fit his own size better.

Buster Sword, meet the Stunner Blade.

This would be the blade Cloud selected to fight with, until another suited him.

Satisfied with his choice, the other swords fused back into the Buster Sword as Cloud slung it back over his shoulder. It even felt lighter.

"I guess when I want to fight, I just pick the sword I want."

A triumphant nod, and Cloud lead Red through the Wall Market to finish their walk. It was a shortcut out of Sector 5 anyway.

The market place buzzed with scuzzy life, slum kids running and dealers dealing. Stands and kiosks sported anything a buyer could possibly want, from weapon upgrades to armor insets and healing potions. A scalper sold fake tickets to some play about a canary, and real tickets to the play that had its own avenue above the Plate; Loveless.

Then, Red lurched his chain out of Cloud's grasp and ran across the street.

"Hey, Red!" Cloud ran after him, but the dog didn't go far. He slowed to a trot at a merchant's blanket splayed on the ground, and stepped over arrangements of flowers to go to the seller. Cloud found a girl in a white cloak with indigo trim like airstreams seated cross-legged on the blanket, her hand stroking the red dog's long muzzle to calm him. Cloud grabbed the chain and yanked him back.

"Sorry." He said. She didn't utter a word.

"These gypsies are the problem," someone muttered behind him in passing. "Don't encourage panhandlers."

He saw that Red had trampled a lot of her flowers, leaving petals strewn out on the old picnic blanket. But she did not protest, instead she caught him staring at her bouquets.

"A flower for someone special?" she spoke in a soft monotone like sad music. "One dozen for one dozen."

Cloud just stood dumbstruck, entranced as if some spell had ensnared him. After a long moment, he spoke in a similar monotone.

"Uh…I would, but there's no one special in my life."

She stood up then, lithe and illusive, arced to one side like a flowing brush stroke in that sable white cloak.

"Well, perhaps just one, for a SOLDIER."

She plucked a single marigold from a bouquet and offered it to him, outstretched arm like a sweeping ivy vine in the cool dusty breeze. Her hood pulled low, he couldn't see her eyes, but a tress of auburn hair flecked out from under her cowl. His hand moved on its own, some otherworldly force lifting his arm for him to take her flower. His fingers brushed hers for the swiftest moment, sending a jolt through the core of his being like the familiar warm feeling of going home. He fumbled in his pocket for a gil and gave it to her, unable to take his eyes off her. She was just a gypsy girl.

There was nothing left to be done, so he gave her a nod and walked on, pulling his red dog at his heel. The feeling of eyes on his back swept the curve of his neck, and he glanced over his shoulder. She was walking out into the middle of the avenue in a slow stride, eyes still hidden under the tuck of a white cowl, but fixed on him with a sense other than sight.

He felt her, a deep connection that stirred in his darkest core. It scared him. He shuffled on, tugging at Red's chain.

Meanwhile, downturned eyes remained transfixed on a tungsten Buster Sword.

.

[Received Fusion Blades]