Chapter Twenty-Five
Fire and Water
The group reluctantly left Midgar behind, worried at the anguish that clearly showed in the faces of the inhabitants once they had learned that their beloved President—and his hard-worked for company—had been completely destroyed. However, Yuffie's common sense came into play here, and her persuasive words of "believe me, you wouldn't want to be found here when those people come looking for the killers" finally goaded them to take the Highwind back out of Midgar as soon as possible. Indeed, it turned out to be for the best, for no sooner had the Highwind lifted off (while the crewmembers who had stayed aboard throughout the entire ordeal jabbered off questions) when a crowd of people emerged onto the air pad, eyes filled with tears of anger or grief. Cloud felt guilt of the highest depth enter his heart, and knew that he would not hope of returning to Midgar without that pang returning. Besides that, he would probably get his head ripped off in the bargain.
"Where to, Captain?" the young crewmember filling in Dusk's pilot position asked once the Highwind was high above the city of Midgar.
"Allow me. I suggest that you head towards Nibelheim. Try and settle on the ledge within the enclosed valley nearby; it's bound to be a little tricky, but the Highwind will handle the water well enough." Bahamut had no need for the intercom, for his voice seemed to carry readily no matter where he stood within the cockpit.
Vincent had decided to forego his hiding place within the darkened conference room and instead sat by Dusk's side within her small room. He didn't pick up on Bahamut's transmission, being too far away—mentally and physically—for even the dragon's voice to reach his ears. The scratches Dusk had received from falling from the broken opening in the Lifestream-filled tank had been minimal, and most of the blood that had been covering her when she found them was Rei's and not her own. Neither Vincent nor Dusk moved, and a casual observer—if one could even manage to enter the locked room—would have supposed both to be dead or unconscious.
Vincent was listening to the steady thrum of the engines beneath his feet with half an ear; the rest of his attention focused on Dusk. The white-glazed materia charm hanging around her neck was still there and shone brightly within the light of the lamp Vincent had brought in. He glanced at it for a brief moment, and then lost interest and returned his eyes to Dusk's face.
His patient vigil was rewarded, and Dusk slowly roused from her sleep to find a familiar ceiling hanging above her head. Strange…I don't remember coming back here…
"You haven't been asleep for very long. Do you need more rest?" Vincent asked softly. Dusk sat up in surprise and stared at Vincent, blinking rapidly.
"Who's piloting the Highwind?" she asked finally, feeling the floor of the room vibrate pleasantly from running engines.
"One of Cid's other crew, I would expect."
Dusk nodded. "Where are we headed to?"
"Aren't you tired? Shouldn't you be going back to sleep?" Vincent asked.
"Shouldn't you?" Dusk returned calmly. "You have been getting precious little sleep just as well, big brother, and you know it."
Vincent paused, and then gave a short laugh that held a strange mix of sad nostalgia and harsh bitterness. "It's been a while since I've last heard you call me that."
"Hasn't it been." Dusk tilted her head to the side as she sat up.
There was a pause between the two before Vincent spoke again. "What made you think about that…interpretation of weapons back there?"
Dusk shrugged. "Some of it was the Captain, but it was only because his words about the Masamune brought back that dream I was having when I was asleep. A voice was talking to me while I was submerged in the Lifestream. It sounded…so sad while it was speaking that I probably would have cried if I had been awake. It was telling me about those perspectives on weapons, and then it began talking about Zeno as if it knew him really well. When it started talking about Zeno, though…its voice got even sadder if that was possible, and it seemed to be weeping from pain and sorrow. That was when someone punched a hole in the glass and I woke up."
"This voice…did it sound anything like the one in the North Crater?"
"You mean when Jenova spoke to us? No, it didn't." Dusk shook her head. "It wasn't her; I'm positive of it. This person's voice was the exact opposite of Jenova's, and, in a way…it sort of reminded me of Bahamut's voice. As if it knew things that I couldn't even hope to guess at, and had seen much more than anyone alive right now."
The…Planet? Could it be? But why would it speak to Dusk so easily when it can't even reach Bahamut?
The Highwind abruptly shuddered throughout its entire frame and the floor dropped slightly from beneath Vincent and Dusk. They both fell over onto the ground in a loss of balance and a gain of surprise, the metal floor beneath their hands resuming its slow vibration before stopping entirely. Vincent glanced sharply up at Dusk, who met his eyes quickly with slight confusion evident from within the crimson orbs.
Vincent was out Dusk's door in a matter of moments, Dusk following him as quickly as she could while she tugged on her discarded outer jacket and grabbed her long sword, sliding it into its place at her side. They both burst into the cockpit, hands over their weapons, to find the huge window in front of the pilot's seat to be staring at a rocky, green-gray wall that seemed oddly familiar to Vincent. Cid was sitting on the ground, leaning against a sub-pilot's control panel with a hand clutched dramatically to his chest as if he had just suffered a massive heart failure. Bahamut leaned over him, a slightly amused expression on his hooded face. Cloud and Yuffie looked as if they were about to throw up on each other, one being as green in the face as the other, while Tifa helped them put their heads between their legs and told them to breathe as deeply and as steadily as they could. Shar, having the steady advantage of four legs, stood solidly nearby while Aeris used the lion-like creature's muscular body to lever herself back into an upright position. Vincent glanced back up at the main pilot seat and noted the brown-haired head of the substitute pilot leaning awkwardly to the side in the seat. Judging from the limpness and lack of movement, the young man had probably passed out. The rest of the staff, as he checked the rest of the room, was unhurt but recovering much in the same way as every other member of the staff, terrified looks wreathing face after face while they slowly pulled themselves and each other to their feet.
"Tricky landing, I take it?" Vincent asked dryly, dropping the grip on his gun.
Cid cracked open one eye and slowly released the bit of the chest area of his shirt that had been clutched in one hand. "Quite right. I think Dusk probably should have piloted that last bit and saved my heart from dropping dead at least twenty years too early."
"The pilot that was taking Dusk's place was just a tad bit too inexperienced," Bahamut added, nodding towards the subject who remained in his unconscious pose. "I don't think that the Highwind took any major damage, but in any case, we did reach our destination."
Vincent finally recognized the grain of the stone in front of the Highwind's nose; he should have, for he had been staring at it everyday for the past five years of his life. "Lucrecia's grotto?" he asked. "Didn't you try to speak with the Planet once already?"
"I'm not going to try again," Bahamut replied calmly. "The last attempt nearly placed me in Jenova's grasp, and quite frankly, I don't want that happening just yet. Over here, though, is a good place for specific types of communication. I need to get this done before we can start moving again."
" 'We'? So you've decided to travel with us again, or what?" Cloud asked, raising his head slightly from its previously lowered position.
"Yes. Especially since Sephiroth is now actively moving about the Planet, for with him always comes part of Jenova. I don't want any of you dying prematurely."
"How touching," Yuffie muttered under her breath before raising her voice's volume and directing it towards the group in general. "So, are we gonna get off of this airship and get onto steady ground, are should I start barfing again?"
* * *
Bahamut crossed his legs and stared intently into the small body of water before him. It was indeed small as lakes went, but its deceptive size hid the depths that reached to the ocean floor. He drew one portion of his hood across the side of his face, shielding his eyes from the glare of the setting sun that was slowly settling itself into the horizon, its upper half peeping into the valley formed by a splitting mountain range.
Cloud and the others, including the crewmembers of the Highwind, were inside of the rather spacious grotto Vincent and Aeris had lived together in for four years. Bahamut remained outside because (although he was too polite to say this out loud), despite the rush of water outside that washed away most scents with its fresh clarity, his nose was too sensitive to handle the crowd of humans—some of which hadn't bathed for quite a while.
Besides, it has been a while since I could sleep in peace, Bahamut thought. Perhaps sleeping under the stars again will calm my mind.
The endless babble of the waterfall was interrupted by the sound of someone emerging from it and stepping towards him. Bahamut pricked his covered ears momentarily, identifying the tread of the person as belonging to a male. It was too heavy for the stalking-swift, silent footsteps of Vincent, but more easy and sure than Cid's limping gait. All of the male crew of the Highwind walked more or less the same because of their similar lives that centered around the Highwind and manning the airship, and this person was not one of them.
"What is it, Cloud?" he asked when the person had hesitantly stopped about two feet away from him. He turned his head and saw that his guess had been correct, for the man in question was standing before him, brushing droplets of water off of his arms.
Cloud paused in his movements, cocking his head towards Bahamut. "How'd you know it was me?"
"No one else in our party walks like you," Bahamut replied simply. "Anyone with a careful enough ear can tell who you are, especially since you're the only person here who has the true step of a fighter."
"Oh." Cloud closed the distance between them and tentatively sat down beside Bahamut. Bahamut shifted his gaze once more to glance sideways at Cloud, studying the man's features more intently. Cloud had always had an angular, proud tilt to his face, but today his face seemed to have fallen out of that mode and into a slightly tired look that made Bahamut think of looking at a sleepy puppy. His glowing Mako eyes, when not the fatigued orbs that stared aimlessly over the small stretch of water before them, were as deep as the heart of a sapphire or a bottomless ocean, but their depth still did not suck in and trap the light as Sephiroth's did. Bahamut found himself comparing Cloud more and more to Sephiroth, but could not find much more similarities between the two. Cloud was much more emotional than Sephiroth, and his indifferent arrogance wavered from the stronghold of sentience within his heart—something that Sephiroth did not have. Physically, the two were also very different as well, except for the eyes. They both had the threatening look of a predator in them, but Sephiroth's more so than Cloud's. Cloud's piercing eyes held the look of a raptor eyeing up its prey below, but Sephiroth's staring eyes were those of an eagle striking.
"Um, Bahamut…" Cloud finally said, interrupting Bahamut's scrutiny. "You…heard what Dusk said back there in the Headquarters, right?"
"About weapons?"
"Yeah. Um, just what exactly did she mean by that?"
Bahamut smiled from beneath his hood. "She meant just what she said. Weapons are no more as evil as the hand of the person who holds them, and weapons are no more as good as the view of the person at which the weapon is pointing. Everything has two sides, and only certain lights of those two sides can be clearly seen by people. Very rarely has there been anyone who can see both sides of the weapon and understand and accept them. Those people who can must be very careful, for more often they are hated by both sides.
"This contrast between good and evil is portrayed everywhere, even in where I come from. I have always taught my siblings the importance of seeing both sides and not just the side that they want to see, but even then few have completely picked up on the concept. Ifrit is one of the more impossibly dense ones, and I know that Shiva understands it but is at a loss of how to apply it to herself. You see, those two are quite the mortal enemies—not just because they are two exact opposites of the Elements that they represent—fire and ice—but because they usually have two totally different views on how they see things."
"Can you…try and teach me?" Cloud asked hesitantly. "I think…I think that it would help with how I see things right now. And right now, I'm just really confused."
Bahamut reached up and firmly drew his hood away from his gray-tinted face, revealing his entire face in one of those rare moments. He smiled once more at Cloud, letting the approval travel through his gesture. "Well, you're the first mortal I've met in a while who's willing to try and see both sides of the mirror. The last 'student' I had was a long, long time ago…and she's long dead. She reminded me much of you in quite a few ways; you both think and act alike, anyway.
"What I always start with is the most simple comparison of natural opposites. This pair is fire and water, both with their virtues and downfalls. First, there is water. What are the characteristics of water, Cloud?" Bahamut leaned over and dipped his hand into the water before him, lifting a cupped hand full of clear water that slowly leaked out through the cracks in the dragon's fingers.
"Uh…well, mortals, at least, can't live without it for very long, and its color is usually pretty clear unless it's been disturbed. Too much or too little water isn't good, because too much can cause a flood that can wipe things out while too little causes a drought. It can extinguish fire, too." Cloud furrowed his brow as he paused in his train of thought, trying to dredge up more information.
"That's all good and true," Bahamut congratulated Cloud. "But water has more characteristics than that. For one, it's true that, while water can be clear…just look at the color of all that water below you, Cloud."
Cloud craned his neck downwards. "It's blue."
"Look." Bahamut lifted another handful of ocean water up, where it once more took on a clear tone. He tilted his hand and let the water slide back into its place of origin inside of the deep blue ocean water. "See what water can do? By itself, water can be so clear, but when it joins, it can turn into something different. It also can take on two other forms besides this liquid one; the solid form, ice, and a gas form."
"Gas?" Cloud looked up at Bahamut curiously. "But you can't see it, can you?"
"No, you can't, but it's still there. You're breathing that very gas in and out as we speak. So you see, water is a very tricky substance as well, besides its apparent clarity. That clarity is what gives water its power to soothe and calm, for it has the power to show people what they want to see and see things that other elements can't. Water is also deceptive as well as helpful, however. Look at your image in still water, and it will show you as you are. But if that still water is ever disturbed, your reflection is distorted and pulled out of proportion, showing you things that don't even exist about you. This is the deception of water."
Cloud leaned over once more curiously, finding another one of him staring back at him with the same tiredness that he felt in every inch of his body. Abruptly, Bahamut slapped his hand on the surface of the still water, and Cloud's reflection went in all directions, disappearing for a moment before rejoining into a wavering parody of what he had seen in the water before. It reluctantly pulled itself back into the firm reflection from before, but the image of the grotesque disassembling of his reflection's body remained in the back of Cloud's mind.
"You see?" Bahamut asked as Cloud nodded slowly. "Water may seem inviting at first, but its calm tranquility can just as easily turn into an angry tidal wave, or its warm waters into an ocean of freezing cold. However, water is slower and more patient than some of the other elements and had a tendency to be more useful as well.
"Fire is what is named as the counter of water, as they both have the power to affect and hurt each other. A small, controlled fire cannot do much harm other than to give off a welcoming glow of heat to warm those who come to its side. But fire is quite fickle and, unlike water, is extremely quick to change into a hungry, greedy inferno. Fire is angered quite easily and is quick to actions and hardly ever thinks of consequences. It demands fuel to nourish itself and keep itself alive, yet while fire depends on its source of food, it burns with a fierce and determined light—the will of someone who wants to live. Fire, though, is not as clear as water, and cannot see things in the same way that water can. Fire is very one-sided, for its own smoke obscures its sight. It's stubborn and angry at times and must be handled with extreme care." Bahamut raised his hand, letting out a sibilant hiss that was immediately followed by a burst of flame appearing in the palm of his hand. The flecks of water that remained there sizzled and evaporated in the presence of the fire.
"When strong enough and at a large enough advantage, fire can even defeat water, but more often it is water that has power over fire. But water is not always as strong and angry as fire is, and has a tendency to be more docile. Yet when water is angered, it can overcome and destroy everything in its path." Bahamut closed his hand with the flame nestled in it, neatly cutting off the fire's supply of oxygen and extinguishing it as readily as a splash of water would. "There is another lesson to this, and that is that the personalities of fire and water are everywhere, not only in those named elements. Specifically, however, fire and water balance each other out, and are the two different sides of the weapon. Sometimes fire is at the mercy of water, and sometimes it is the other way around, but both sides never see the right of the other side; just the wrong. That is the same with humans, and that is what Dusk was talking about."
"I…think I understand now," Cloud said slowly. "If I try hard enough, I can understand why Sephiroth is doing what he's doing, but…I can't bring myself to forgive him for his beliefs."
"Dusk said something else, didn't she?" Bahamut asked, brushing his hand against the ground he sat on. He paused, glancing sideways at Cloud.
Cloud hesitated and then started when he realized that Bahamut was waiting for an answer from him. "Uh, yeah. I wasn't really listening, though."
"She said that while Sephiroth is evil, the child inside of him is the weapon that Jenova is wielding. Understand?"
"Sort of like an onion?" Cloud guessed. "Masamune is Sephiroth's weapon, but Sephiroth is Jenova's weapon. It's just layers inside of layers."
"More specifically, Zeno is Jenova's weapon," Bahamut corrected. "Zeno, and not Sephiroth." His eyes narrowed, staring at a point within his mind's eye. "Sephiroth himself may go along with that onion analogy of yours. On the outside, he's Sephiroth, but on the inside…there's something there that the original Sephiroth did not have."
"Like what?"
"I have another speculation, Cloud. The Planet brought Aeris back to counter the rebirth of Zeno, but although they were both 'born' around the same time…she is notably younger than he is. I was wondering why that was so for a while now—I think it may be because of changes on the inside of them that their creators either went through with or chose to ignore. You've lived with Zeno ever since he was born, Cloud. Have you noticed anything strange about him?"
"Uh…he's way too smart intellectually, he reads too much, he's too calm, he's deadpan, he's strong, he's fast, he's a damn good fighter, he has no interest in girls despite his age…" Cloud ticked off each point on his fingers.
"Now compare him to the Aeris that's alive right now."
Mystified, Cloud closed his eyes and tried to remember everything he could about the present day Aeris without getting her mixed up with the endearing flower girl from the past. Too often, he caught himself about to name something that the Aeris from the past had but the Aeris now didn't, and more than once he found himself naming something that both girls shared. "Well, she's more naïve, she's not as good of a fighter, she's fascinated with the littlest things, she has a wider range of emotions—"
"There! You see?" Bahamut interrupted triumphantly. "The Planet did something that Jenova didn't do, and that was to grow Aeris' emotions at the normal pace of her age maturity. Forgetting the fact that she was born four years ago, Aeris is normal for her apparent age in terms of physical and emotional appearance. She looks, acts, talks, and thinks like a twenty-two-year-old, much as how she did in her previous life. Zeno is a different matter, however. Now matter which way you look at him, even if he appears to be even older than you are, he has the emotional capability of a four-year-old. Jenova grew only his intellect with his body, making him smarter, stronger, and faster—but completely under her control. You see, human four-year-olds are at the age where they still follow their mothers around willingly and do whatever they are told to do. This was the type of manipulative control that Jenova wanted over her 'son'. Because of her 'mother-son' bond with Zeno, once she had his mind in her grasp he was hers for the taking. This wasn't necessarily true for the Sephiroth of before; I have no doubt in my mind that he was on the brink of frustration with humans when he found Jenova, and he was very much in control of his emotions. This time, Zeno is truly the weapon in Jenova's hands—a thinking, living, breathing weapon." Bahamut looked closely at Cloud with his crimson eyes, the livid expression that had grown within the orbs throughout the length of his speech giving way to a soft, regretful look of gentility that surprised Cloud. "And much loved by the ones he is being ordered to hurt the most, I suspect."
Cloud jerked his head away from Bahamut's eyes, keeping a restraining mental grip on the tears of frustration and sorrow that were threatening to angrily flow from his eyes. "He is Sephiroth," he growled in a cutting, harsh voice, his back stiffening. But Cloud couldn't keep that pose for long as he slouched down again, bowing his head and closing his overflowing eyes, willing the tears to dry themselves away. "Or…so I keep telling myself. Vincent said…that I would only be hurting myself if I kept referring to him as Zeno. It's so true that it hurts too much for me on the inside." He clenched a fist and pressed it against his beating heart, gritting his teeth as the knuckles of his hand bit into his chest. "Sometimes I think that if I just keep everything that I feel on the inside, like how I did before, then everything will be okay. But at night, I dream about being able to bring the real Zeno back home with us, even as I relive Aeris' death over and over again. I…don't want that to happen again, but…" His voice trailed off as his fist began to tremble uncontrollably, driving itself at his heart once more. "But…"
"But you have every right to think that," Bahamut interrupted softly, placing a gentle, fatherly hand on Cloud's shoulder. "Cloud, you shouldn't keep your emotions on the inside of you like that. I've seen mortals do that before, and in the end when they've held those fears and worries inside of them for too long with no one to talk to, they always either end up destroying themselves or the people they care for the most. There are always people around you waiting to hear your side of the story—you just have to look for them first."
"But how will I know when I've found the right person?" Cloud mumbled.
"When your heart says so."
The acrid smell of smoke abruptly ended the short silence between the man and the sub-human, biting through the inside of Cloud's nose with a series of painful nips. Cloud flung his head and shoulders back, sharp gaze following the trail of smoke that led past the mountain range behind their backs. He was on his feet in an instant, just behind Bahamut's quick rise as they both stared up the mountain face.
"What in the world is going on…?" Bahamut muttered, eyes widening alarmingly as a fresh, thick burst of dark black smoke joined the first column.
Cloud had grown up in this area, even venturing down into this very valley before his mother forbade him to do so anymore. He frowned and oriented himself, trying to recall what would lie beyond the western mountain range.
More of Mount Nibel…and…
Cloud's head snapped straight up, his glowing sapphire eyes enlarging themselves with despair.
"Nibelheim!"
* * *
The moments that followed were in a complete blur from Cloud's point of view. His cry of shock and terror pierced even the liquid laugh of the waterfall, bringing Tifa, Aeris, and Vincent out at full throttle. By the time the trio had reached the place where Bahamut and Cloud and stood just seconds before, the two men were scrambling up the rocky side of the mountain, Bahamut just a few handholds behind Cloud.
Cloud kept his eyes locked on the trail of smoke just ahead of him, ignoring the rocks that sliced into the palms of his gloves and drew thin lines of blood. He could too clearly recall the path of blood and its cause back in the Shinra Headquarters, and in his frightened mind's eye, the smoke column was all too quickly turning into that same trail of blood. He continued onwards, almost considering throwing his sword off of his back at one point, for it suddenly seemed too heavy and bulky for him to scale the side of the mountain as quickly as he wanted to. Cloud ground his teeth together, hands somehow finding handholds and booted feet scrabbling against the rocks that came loose and occasionally rained down upon the heads of his friends.
All of this he ignored until he had reached the top of the mountain after what seemed like an eternity, hands bleeding through the tears in his gloves and congealing in the leather fingertips. His chest rose and fell with each labored gasp for air as his eyes settled upon the town before him, praying that what he had seen flashing in his mind wasn't true.
A blast of unbearably hot air accompanying a flickering orange-red glow met Cloud's eyes. The hometown he had promised himself that he would return to someday was completely ablaze, burning so strongly and brightly that even from his vantage point he felt as if he had just entered the depths of Hell. Cloud heard Bahamut move beside him before Tifa climbed over the mountain, moving up to Cloud with a puzzled expression on her face.
"Cloud? What's going—oh, God, no!"
Tifa's startled exclamation brought Vincent quickly over the mountain, reaching down to help Aeris up. He turned his head and caught sight of the dancing flames, freezing for a moment before he continued helping Aeris. Once up, Aeris, too, saw the fire and could do no more than a token attempt at rising from her hands and knees.
"Oh, no," she whispered. "Dad—the people…what about the people?"
What about the home I swore to protect? Cloud thought despairingly. What about everything I grew up with?
As if to mock him, while he watched, the hungry, greedy flames crept even over the stone set into the center of Nibelheim and burn into the wooden platform of the well that still stood there, a towering sentinel of gray. It burst as the flames touched the metal container perched upon the wood, spilling its precious collection of water onto the fire around it and extinguishing a mere portion before being completely consumed and evaporated. The same well he had the fondest memories of for his childhood—the well that had bravely continued standing even when Nibelheim was burned down the first time. And, most of all, the well that he and Tifa had made their promise to each other on that fateful night Cloud had decided to join Soldier.
Tifa saw Cloud take a wavering step forward, one bleeding hand stretched out as if he were trying to stop the inferno engulfing their hometown with that one motion. She was also the only one who saw Cloud immediately fall into a run down the side of the mountain, arms and legs moving frantically to keep up with his downward motion. His long strides were marred by stumbles and the slide he took for half of the way down with boots and hands clutching the mountainside in an attempt to slow his momentum. Tifa threw herself after him with no second thought, ending up sliding most of the way and landing on her stomach at the base of the mountain. She looked up to see Cloud standing before her, now bleeding in more places than just his hands, staring mesmerized at the dancing flames that were destroying every moment of their lives as children. It was true that this Nibelheim was no more than a prop Shinra had set up to allay suspicion from the quiet town and that the "inhabitants" were no more than Shinra employees set up as Nibelheim natives. But Tifa's heart still ached as she watched her own house finally disappear completely beneath the blue-tinged flames that crackled with malicious glee.
She was barely aware of the others sliding down beside her as she pulled herself to her feet, now just as transfixed by the sight as Cloud was. She, too, was scratched and bleeding from her reckless tumble down the mountain, but she ignored them with the same absentmindedness that Cloud expressed.
I…never got to go home…
The fire mesmerized Vincent as well, but for a different reason. In the far back of the town was a huge mansion just beginning to collapse upon its foundations that were being eaten away by the fire. This was the mansion the former Turk had been shot and killed in, and then reconstructed and revived by his most hated enemy. He had lost thirty years of his life in a state of sleep and consciousness, meditating upon his sins and thinking up of every way he could possibly receive revenge upon Hojo. Vincent laughed softly in the back of his throat, a rasping, grim chuckle that no one caught—and luckily, for his laugh was no noise to be enjoyed by grief-stricken ears.
Finally, the nightmare is destroyed for good.
Only Aeris and Bahamut kept their eyes flicking left and right, watching and waiting for something to happen.
The hairs on the back of Aeris' neck prickled instantly a moment before the tall, slender, black-clothed shape stepped calmly from the heart of the fire, cold emerald eyes fixed unwaveringly upon Cloud. He stopped a foot from the edge of the blaze, his pale skin for once given color by the rosy glow of the fire illuminating his form. In one hand was the Masamune, dripping with fresh blood just as it had been when the people of Reeve's company were slaughtered in cold blood.
"Sephiroth," Cloud whispered in a hoarse voice.
Sephiroth's long silver hair snaked about his head like living things in the heat waves of the inferno, obscuring his face for a mere instant. When they had settled down again, his stoic face from before had changed. His thin, pale lips stretched into a seemingly innocent smile while his eyes narrowed and sparkled from within with light intensified by his sinister glee. Cloud stared back, incredulity growing within his heart—disbelief that anyone would dare to smile while fresh blood stained his blade's edge and his hands.
Anger flushed through Cloud's mind, overtaking any apprehension or doubts that he had held within before. His right arm flung over his shoulder, hand scrabbling madly for his sword's hilt while he charged headlong at the man before him. Tifa's surprised shriek was overtaken and drowned out by the cry that forced its way out of Cloud's tightening throat, resting heavily against his tongue for a bare moment before prying his mouth open and freeing itself into the hot, thick air surrounding him. It was the angered roar that a taunted animal made, tempered by the grief and heartbreak Cloud had carried within him for so long. The words were incomprehensible and garbled together in his rage, but their meaning carried well enough through the tensing muscles in Cloud's arms as he brought his sword forward and the glow in his Mako eyes that overpowered even the inferno's light.
Cloud's sight quickly narrowed down to his target, his heart becoming as cold and indifferent as a stone in the bottom of an ice-covered lake. He dug his boots into the ground and sprang forward, swinging the Ultima Weapon in a sideways arc whose strength and momentum no one could hope to evade, much less block successfully and still contain enough power to counter.
Blood sprayed from the Masamune as it seemed to move of its own volition to stop the Ultima Weapon's path before it had even touched Sephiroth's targeted side. A shower of sparks accompanied the metallic clang of steel biting against steel as Cloud's extra momentum let his sword slide against Masamune's well-sharpened edge. Cloud was on one knee a moment after his sword met Sephiroth's, gritting his teeth and blinking in bewilderment as tremors shook his sword and arms. Sephiroth remained perfectly still and immobile, not in the least bit shaken by the tremendous contact between the two formidable weapons.
Cloud recovered as quickly as he could, rolling away from the Masamune and springing to his feet, bringing his cleaver-sword around in a path aimed for Sephiroth's head. Instead of blocking, Sephiroth merely tilted his head away from the sword as its tip whistled through the air by his cheek, biting instead into the ground and not through his neck as Cloud had hoped.
"Nice try," Sephiroth remarked in an icy voice. The skin in the cheek that the Ultima Weapon's tip had gone by abruptly split, creating the tiniest cut that leaked a drop of crimson red blood. He reached up and touched it, wiping the blood drop away with a casual flick of his finger and bringing the finger to his tongue to lick it clean of his own blood. "Very nice try. But your moves are too predictable."
"Shut up," Cloud growled angrily, whipping his sword out of the furrow it had plowed through the earth. "I got first blood."
"Only because I let you," Sephiroth returned without batting an eyelash. "Next time, first blood will be mine."
"Next time, it will be to the death."
"So be it. And now, I am afraid, I must bid you farewell." Sephiroth raised Masamune in a mock salute to Cloud as his form began to fade and disappear from the plane. "Oh, and I would tend to those hands of yours, Uncle," he added before he completely faded out. The stress he put on the last word bit harshly into Cloud's ears, all memories of the way Zeno had lovingly referred to him when he had still been a child gone with that one scathing word. "Otherwise, the next match won't last as long as I hope it will. Where would the fun be in that?"
"Where indeed," Cloud muttered as he watched Sephiroth's ghostly outline shimmer away. He collapsed to his hands and knees, all adrenaline that had powered him earlier suddenly gone and leaving him feeling decidedly drained.
"Cloud? Are you okay?" Tifa appeared beside him, touching him on the shoulder. "Cloud?"
"I'm fine." Cloud waved Tifa away as he began to pull himself painfully to his feet.
"Cloud, what's this?" Bahamut reached out and touched Cloud's nose bridge with one finger. When he pulled it away, the finger was clearly stained with fresh blood, the source from whence it came oozing even more blood in a trickle down both of Cloud's cheeks and dripping from his chin.
"When did…" Cloud began in disbelief, staring at the stain on Bahamut's finger and swiping at his nose with the back of one hand.
"Cloud, don't. I'll clean it for you later." Tifa pulled Cloud's arm down, staring intently at the wound. "It's not too deep, but it might get infected if you don't watch out."
Cloud let out an animalistic growl that emitted from the back of his throat. "That's the least of my worries right now. And how the hell did he manage to get a swipe in on me?"
"That one last 'salute' he gave you," Vincent said suddenly. "I believe that that was it. All he did before was block and dodge, and the only time he moved his blade anywhere near Cloud's face was when he 'saluted' him. That must have been when he got a hit in."
"How? I didn't even see him touch Cloud," Tifa exclaimed, blinking in astonishment.
Bahamut shook his head. "He was proving that he really did let Cloud get that first hit on him. He could have easily decimated him even before Cloud made his first attack, but then again…" His voice changed, dripping with sarcasm and unchecked anger. "Where would the fun be for him in doing that?"
"Is that him speaking or Jenova?" Cloud asked softly, pulling himself to his shaky legs. "He hates us now, even more than how much we loved Zeno. But is that hate his own or what Jenova instilled inside of him?"
Bahamut regarded Cloud with crimson eyes suddenly gone tired and sad with age. "Weapons never hate on their own, Cloud. It's the wielder that affects the weapon, usually not the other way around."
