Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, SquareSoft does. I only own the
phrasings of this story.
A/N: This is the beginning of a short sequence of memories. They will relate to the main story, but can stand on their own. This will tie in to the ending of the story. I decided to take a detour from the main story when was having a hard time coming up with ideas with the adult Tifa and Cloud. This memory is of when Cloud and Tifa are thirteen or fourteen.
Interrupted by Fireworks by KyuuketsukiShounen
Memoirs of My Hometown, Part 1: My Side of the Window
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Was there ever a time when you looked through a window, wanting nothing more than to be on the other side?
------------------
"Hey, look! It's that spikey-headed dork," a boy snickered, nudging his friends. They all laughed at the miserable subject of conversation, trying not to be too obvious. But still, Cloud knew it was him that they laughed at. He walked faster now, hoping he would be able to run away with no more injury than a harsh word or two. He braced himself for the usual showering of rocks and empty wrappers and other detritus.
Would it ever be any different? Of course not. Because he was Cloud. That spikey-headed dork. And them? They were the those guys, the ones that everyone was nice to. Not that anyone wanted to be nice to them, but you would have the feeling that it would be to your advantage to be nice.
"Hi Cloud!" A girl waved at him, genuinely smiling, eyes brilliantly sparkling, and hair blowing in the wind. Her? She's Tifa. The girl everyone was nice to. Not for the same reason as those boys. She was one of the few kids in the town who had risen in the teenage hierarchy without clawing her way up.
So then, what was her secret? She was nice. She was gracious. It would have been hard to dislike her, let alone hate her. Her genuine charm had shot her up into the clouds with the other members of the 'popular' crowd. She was perfect to each and every one of the boys. Cloud was no exception.
Still, there was some confusion as to how one would define a perfect person. To the boys who lived to push others down, it meant someone who had a prominent family, was photogenic, and had a body to kill for. Cloud valued those things, but in his dictionary, all you really need is a good heart. And Tifa surely had that.
If there were one thing about Tifa that one would diagnose as a flaw would be her naivety. All the boys thought she was perfect and she had no idea.
As she walked past Cloud, the rest of the boys all crowded her, pushing in closer and closer. She giggled and laughed her pixyish laugh and all the other boys laughed with her. Cloud rolled his eyes and continued on his short walk back home. When he a few yards away, he glanced back for just a split second. He turned back, hurrying away. He felt even more alone now, than he had felt before.
-------------------
Later that day, a little after the sun had set, Cloud emerged from his house, and climbed onto the well. It was a usual habit of his. He would sit there and watch the stars come out. This night, he looked into the well, seeing his reflection looking back at him in the surface of the water.
He frowned and picked up a rock, throwing it into the water and blurring his image. "Why am I so weak?"
'Later, you will be stronger,' a small voice at the back of his mind answered him.
Splash. Another rock into the water. "That's too long! I need to be strong now!" He demanded, angrily facing his reflection, only to find it just as furious. As if by plan, the front page of a newspaper fluttered in a sudden breeze, resting at Cloud's feet. He picked it up to find another face looking back at him, but this time it wasn't a reflection. It was the face of the Great Sephiroth.
"Sephiroth..." The young boy muttered under his breath. Sephiroth, the head general of SOLDIER. And it seemed like a switch flicked in the young boy's head. "That's it! I'll join SOLDIER!" He jumped to his feet, newspaper spread out in his hands. His mind moved quick, mapping out his future. "I'll be a SOLDIER! First-Class or nothing.... yeah..."
A cold breeze raced past, chilling Cloud. He sat back down and kept on imagining. His voice started to slow down a little. "I'll be strong! Stronger than anyone here in Nibelheim..." He paused, unconsciously dropping the newspaper. He clenched his fists as he envisioned it all. "I'll be stronger than everyone. Even Sephiroth. And then... maybe then... she would see..." His cheeks reddened, perhaps from the sudden chill that had arrived, or perhaps from his yearning, or perhaps both.
It was already quite dark, but Cloud could see Tifa's room. It was lit up, bathed in a golden light from a well-placed lamp. She was there, with those friends of hers. Some sat on the floor, while some in chairs, and one on her bed, flipping through a magazine. He watched them laugh together and he knew he would never be part of their group. He winced at the thought and turned away.
He went on with the fantasy. "And when I'm strong, everyone will like me," his voice began to waver, just slightly. He talked slower, less excited now. It was no longer a wish to shout to the heavens above. Now it was a mere muttering of a dream to himself. "And if I see someone, standing there all alone," he sniffled, "I'll help him. And talk to him. And he'll be my friend."
His breaths turned ragged, and he kept his eyes open, trying hard not to cry. He drew up his legs and watched his breath turn visible in the bitter evening. His gasps were shallow and rapid, but not from the frigid air.
"And I won't let anyone laugh at him. Or throw things at him. Or hurt him." He had barely the will to let out the last words before he collapsed, sobbing and clutching his knees to his chest. He sat there, crumpled.
It certainly was a cold night in Nibelheim. The delicate flakes fluttered down, slowly covering everything; onto the houses, onto the streets. And onto the pitiful frame of a boy, shaking with misery.
Yes, it was snowing in Nibelheim.
------------------
Was there ever a time when you looked through a window, wanting nothing more than to be on the other side?
------------------
A/N: I feel sad now. If I've made you sad, also, I'm sorry. But don't worry. Cloud will be happy. Feel free to review or e-mail me, or both.
A/N: This is the beginning of a short sequence of memories. They will relate to the main story, but can stand on their own. This will tie in to the ending of the story. I decided to take a detour from the main story when was having a hard time coming up with ideas with the adult Tifa and Cloud. This memory is of when Cloud and Tifa are thirteen or fourteen.
Interrupted by Fireworks by KyuuketsukiShounen
Memoirs of My Hometown, Part 1: My Side of the Window
------------------
Was there ever a time when you looked through a window, wanting nothing more than to be on the other side?
------------------
"Hey, look! It's that spikey-headed dork," a boy snickered, nudging his friends. They all laughed at the miserable subject of conversation, trying not to be too obvious. But still, Cloud knew it was him that they laughed at. He walked faster now, hoping he would be able to run away with no more injury than a harsh word or two. He braced himself for the usual showering of rocks and empty wrappers and other detritus.
Would it ever be any different? Of course not. Because he was Cloud. That spikey-headed dork. And them? They were the those guys, the ones that everyone was nice to. Not that anyone wanted to be nice to them, but you would have the feeling that it would be to your advantage to be nice.
"Hi Cloud!" A girl waved at him, genuinely smiling, eyes brilliantly sparkling, and hair blowing in the wind. Her? She's Tifa. The girl everyone was nice to. Not for the same reason as those boys. She was one of the few kids in the town who had risen in the teenage hierarchy without clawing her way up.
So then, what was her secret? She was nice. She was gracious. It would have been hard to dislike her, let alone hate her. Her genuine charm had shot her up into the clouds with the other members of the 'popular' crowd. She was perfect to each and every one of the boys. Cloud was no exception.
Still, there was some confusion as to how one would define a perfect person. To the boys who lived to push others down, it meant someone who had a prominent family, was photogenic, and had a body to kill for. Cloud valued those things, but in his dictionary, all you really need is a good heart. And Tifa surely had that.
If there were one thing about Tifa that one would diagnose as a flaw would be her naivety. All the boys thought she was perfect and she had no idea.
As she walked past Cloud, the rest of the boys all crowded her, pushing in closer and closer. She giggled and laughed her pixyish laugh and all the other boys laughed with her. Cloud rolled his eyes and continued on his short walk back home. When he a few yards away, he glanced back for just a split second. He turned back, hurrying away. He felt even more alone now, than he had felt before.
-------------------
Later that day, a little after the sun had set, Cloud emerged from his house, and climbed onto the well. It was a usual habit of his. He would sit there and watch the stars come out. This night, he looked into the well, seeing his reflection looking back at him in the surface of the water.
He frowned and picked up a rock, throwing it into the water and blurring his image. "Why am I so weak?"
'Later, you will be stronger,' a small voice at the back of his mind answered him.
Splash. Another rock into the water. "That's too long! I need to be strong now!" He demanded, angrily facing his reflection, only to find it just as furious. As if by plan, the front page of a newspaper fluttered in a sudden breeze, resting at Cloud's feet. He picked it up to find another face looking back at him, but this time it wasn't a reflection. It was the face of the Great Sephiroth.
"Sephiroth..." The young boy muttered under his breath. Sephiroth, the head general of SOLDIER. And it seemed like a switch flicked in the young boy's head. "That's it! I'll join SOLDIER!" He jumped to his feet, newspaper spread out in his hands. His mind moved quick, mapping out his future. "I'll be a SOLDIER! First-Class or nothing.... yeah..."
A cold breeze raced past, chilling Cloud. He sat back down and kept on imagining. His voice started to slow down a little. "I'll be strong! Stronger than anyone here in Nibelheim..." He paused, unconsciously dropping the newspaper. He clenched his fists as he envisioned it all. "I'll be stronger than everyone. Even Sephiroth. And then... maybe then... she would see..." His cheeks reddened, perhaps from the sudden chill that had arrived, or perhaps from his yearning, or perhaps both.
It was already quite dark, but Cloud could see Tifa's room. It was lit up, bathed in a golden light from a well-placed lamp. She was there, with those friends of hers. Some sat on the floor, while some in chairs, and one on her bed, flipping through a magazine. He watched them laugh together and he knew he would never be part of their group. He winced at the thought and turned away.
He went on with the fantasy. "And when I'm strong, everyone will like me," his voice began to waver, just slightly. He talked slower, less excited now. It was no longer a wish to shout to the heavens above. Now it was a mere muttering of a dream to himself. "And if I see someone, standing there all alone," he sniffled, "I'll help him. And talk to him. And he'll be my friend."
His breaths turned ragged, and he kept his eyes open, trying hard not to cry. He drew up his legs and watched his breath turn visible in the bitter evening. His gasps were shallow and rapid, but not from the frigid air.
"And I won't let anyone laugh at him. Or throw things at him. Or hurt him." He had barely the will to let out the last words before he collapsed, sobbing and clutching his knees to his chest. He sat there, crumpled.
It certainly was a cold night in Nibelheim. The delicate flakes fluttered down, slowly covering everything; onto the houses, onto the streets. And onto the pitiful frame of a boy, shaking with misery.
Yes, it was snowing in Nibelheim.
------------------
Was there ever a time when you looked through a window, wanting nothing more than to be on the other side?
------------------
A/N: I feel sad now. If I've made you sad, also, I'm sorry. But don't worry. Cloud will be happy. Feel free to review or e-mail me, or both.