"So what'd it look like?" Barret asks.
The five of them stand beneath the docks, shaded from the hot sun and concealed from view. The cargo ship moors at the far pier, swarming with activity. They'd been fortunate enough to escape during the initial chaos of frightened sailors and confused officials before Shinra could instate a lockdown. Yuffie has vanished into town, citing that she had certain things to do. Like rob people, Cloud thinks.
Costa del Sol is a beach resort of blue skies, warm sands, and clear waters. Ferries transport daily from Junon and Shinra ships line the port, although only one currently occupies attention.
Cloud crouches at the shoreline, rinsing his hands and running his fingers through his hair. The iridescent ichor of that thing's blood had dried on him in splatters. He hasn't slept. He hopes nobody notices his hands shaking.
"It was tall," he says. "A massive body with tentacles. Nothing human. Couldn't have been."
Aerith lays in the sand letting the waves wash over her shins. Tifa paces, tapping her fists together.
"It could manipulate energy without materia," he continues. "And concentrate light into bursts of lasers."
Barret grunts. "And you corroborate all this, Red? Aerith?"
"Yes," Aerith says. "It was unlike anything I'd seen."
"And it smelled peculiar," Nanaki adds. "An odor that was not of this earth. It could have been an illusion."
Cloud looks at him. "It wasn't an illusion."
"That gas could have altered our chemical perceptions. We did encounter something in that engine room, but perhaps it was not as we experienced."
"The General was there," Cloud says. "He said something to me. Something about it being time for something. The time has come. I don't know what it could mean."
"Why didn't he kill you?" Barret wants to know.
Cloud can't answer because the General hadn't even attacked. The man had seemed preoccupied, hardly present.
"An illusion," Nanaki reiterates.
It felt real, yet Cloud recognizes that his own mind may not be so stable. The trail of corpses, the darkness, the lack of sleep—it could have all crafted this elaborate vision.
"No," Cloud says. "No, it was him." He can't let doubt beat him now, not when there is an actual clue to follow. "And that creature must've been what I saw in the Shinra Tower."
Tifa bites her lip. "So Sephiroth's been carrying that thing with him all this time?"
"Except it's changing," Cloud says. "The core of it was the same, but it's larger and it's grown some sort of head. A skull at the end of a bony neck."
Barret shivers. "Ugh, now it's got a head? Damn, this story jes' keeps getting worse. I'm about to say we quit this wild chase and focus on makin' Shinra pay for what they did to Sector Seven."
Cloud almost mentions Heidegger. Almost. All that feels like so long ago, though, in the wake of Jenova's stirrings.
Nanaki shakes sand from his paws and says, "This creature we encountered is explicitly tied to Shinra, though. If it was locked away in Hojo's labs, then it must be extremely dangerous."
"And whatever Sephiroth wants with it can't be good," Cloud agrees. He peels off his MP jacket and pants, tossing them aside. The others have long ditched their disguises, too. The clothes beneath smell of diesel.
"You think he's still lookin' for the Promised Land?" Barret says. "Like he was five years ago?"
Cloud doesn't know what to think anymore. Tourists walk by overhead in casual conversation, oblivious to the monster that slipped right past. The monster that is still out there, along with the General.
"An' if he is," Barret says, "why carry that thing along?"
Nobody answers. Jenova could be an Ancient, a guide to this fabled place, yet Cloud feels this is incorrect. Every sense from that creature is entirely different from what Aerith projects. And isn't Aerith of Cetra lineage? He glances at her as she pats Nanaki's mane. He doesn't know much about her or anyone he's traveling with, truly.
"One thing is for sure," Cloud says. "I'm going to follow it, and Sephiroth. There's something else going on, more than I think Shinra can comprehend. I can't walk away from it now."
Silence falls over the group. The smell of fried foods and pulled candy wafts from vendor carts along the beach, and the ocean lulls and crashes. Sailors grumble on the docks, and vacationers extol the weather. Cloud can't seem to get that thing's blood off his skin.
"Well, we don't even know which way it went," Barret says. "And I could use a damn shower. Ain't slept a wink on that ship."
Cloud keeps rinsing his hands. That creature—no, he knows its name, best to call it what it is—Jenova is capable of surviving outside that tank in the Shinra Tower. Had it always been able to do this? The only other time he saw it was in the Nibelheim Reactor, stored like a priceless gem on display. Inactive. Or so he thought. Had it moved then? Seen him then? Watched him…
"Hey," Tifa's voice breaks his thoughts. She's next to him, leaning in. "I think Barret's right. We could use a break. All the attention is on that cargo ship, so maybe we lay low for a few hours. Take a breather."
"No," he says, eyes on the water. "No, Sephiroth was on that ship with us. He can't have gotten far."
Tifa watches Cloud scrub his hands raw in the surf. There's no hint of that strange blood he described, yet he's not stopping. He looks pale. There are sunken hollows beneath his eyes. She hasn't actually seen him sleep.
She rests two fingers on his wrist, pausing the fevered motion, and lowers her voice. "You could use a break. What good are any of us if we're run ragged?"
He wants to pull away, but her touch is steady and warm. Reassuring. It halts the crawling under his ribs.
And she's right. Jenova could've crushed them. Sephiroth could've sliced him apart. He'd been lucky, and next time he faces either, he needs to be at his peak. The others do, too, if they continue to accompany him.
"Okay," he admits. He turns to the others. "Okay. We take a break. Try to figure out where Sephiroth could've gone next. Maybe someone in town saw something."
"Now you makin' some sense," Barret says. "I'm a canvas the town, catch a nap at the inn."
"Thank you, Cloud," Nanaki says. "I'm going to find somewhere cool to recuperate. My nose is drying out in this heat."
The two depart over the blinding white sands while Aerith stretches. She hauls her skirt into one fist and wades into the shallow water.
The ocean rolls beneath idyllic skies. Swaying palms drift shadows through the planks of the dock.
Tifa watches Cloud. The tension hasn't left his muscles, and he's hyper-focused on every peal of voices, every footstep above. This isn't the boy she remembers leaving town at fourteen. She cringes at all the junk Shinra's done to him. If only they'd known back then how it would all play out.
But while she's had years to rebuild her life and make peace that the man responsible for her father's death is gone, Cloud hasn't had that luxury. For him, it's only been months since the tragedy at Nibelheim, so the General's abrupt return isn't quite so unbelievable.
The demolition of Sector Seven keeps replaying in her head. She can't stomach whatever lengths Shinra will go through next to crush their little group. How much worse could it get?
"Maybe it's not worth chasing this shadow further," she says to him.
"This shadow," he responds, "is all I have."
He doesn't mean to say it aloud. It slips out in her presence.
Tifa watches the waves. "I know," she says. "But not forever."
Seagulls fly past, squabbling over a piece of food.
"As long as you're with us against Shinra," Tifa says, "we'll make it through."
"Was there ever any doubt?" He gives her a slight smile.
Aerith calls to them, "I'm going swimming. Wash this grime off. Wanna come?"
Tifa says, "Yeah, I'll go with you."
He wants to tell them to be careful, that Shinra spies could be lurking, though he's not sure if the science division (or whatever's left of it) even cares about Aerith or Nanaki anymore now that Hojo's resigned and Jenova is loose. Plus, he knows Tifa can defend herself and Aerith, if necessary. It's no use worrying.
"Have fun," he says. "I'm going to scope out the area. Hopefully find a clue."
"Hopefully get some rest!" Tifa quips, taking off her boots.
Cloud climbs onto the boardwalk. MPs march past without a second look, chatting about the darkened ship in the bay. He might as well be another tourist congesting the beach, and the locals don't seem alarmed either.
He heads to the shops first, thinking Nanaki was right about carrying an antidote. While his body is capable of cleansing at an accelerated pace, Jenova's poison could've been fatal for anyone else.
The bell above the door jingles as he enters.
Yuffie stands at the counter with a fistful of colorful marbles and a devious grin.
"Hiya, Cloud," she says, then returns her attention to the shopkeeper. "This here is my good friend, an ex-SOLDIER if you can believe that. Held to the highest of Shinra standards. And he can vouch for the authenticity of these materia. Right, Cloud?"
Her eyes indicate he better play along. He sighs and looks at the materia and is shocked to see that, yes, some of it is legit.
"Where did you get all these?" he asks. "Have you had these this whole time?"
He spots a mid-range Heal (which can cleanse poisons, not to be confused with Restore, as Cloud learned during training) and a blue linking materia which he doesn't recognize. There's a purple one in there, too. The rest are garbage, painted glass.
"Do you even know what you're carrying?" he asks.
"Of course, I do!" She smiles at the shopkeeper. "And I know they are worth a lot more than what I'm being offered."
She's trying to sell them. As long as she's not selling any of his, he doesn't care. He checks his wallet to purchase antidotes, but of course, he's low on gil.
"Ya know, we could use that Heal," Cloud tells her. "And what's the purple one?"
"Oh, this?" She holds up the violet orb. "Pre-emptive. One of the best."
She drops it into Cloud's hand, and a riotous flash envelops him. Static burns his brain. He's back in Nibelheim. This was a materia he'd been given for the mission, locked into his rifle. He can see it glimmering against the gunmetal, a drop of lucid color, as they step past the central water tower. Sephiroth is just ahead, leading the way.
"—and I even used it on my friend here to get the drop on him, to prove its effectiveness," Yuffie's voice dissolves the image.
The shop startles into view. Nibelheim is gone. The mountain air has vanished. Yuffie has plucked the materia away from him, tipping it between her finger and thumb while she talks.
"This one is dear to me, but I'm willing to part with it for a price," she's saying.
Cloud takes a breath, doesn't want Yuffie or anyone to notice the way his heart is racing. He keeps his expression blank. Then he walks out of the shop.
The door slams shut, and oppressive heat envelops him. He can't have these flashbacks hit so unexpectedly. He needs to get them under control. Somehow.
Rest, Tifa had said. Maybe that's all he needs.
With the pittance of his gil, he buys some food, negotiates a few hours at the inn, and takes a long shower. The bruising on his arm has become a dark line along one vein. He imagines it pulsating in rhythm to that hideous creature. This link, he knows, is real.
He tries to sleep. It's mid-morning, but everything is heavy. The cargo ship swims in his skull. The darkness of the engine room, all those unseens corners. It spirals. Haunting, nauseating. He wants to throw up.
Then his eyes snap open. Without realizing it, he's slept over four hours. He checks his phone, but there are no messages from the others. Surely everyone is relaxing, and he needs to collect intel on the General.
He stretches, feeling less outside of himself. The materia socketed in the broadsword has refreshed, too. The next problem will be getting more gil. It's never been a concern while working under the company, but now he's out. Maybe he can convince Yuffie to share her "earnings" or at least give him back his two-hundred.
Outside, the village is bustling. Afternoon sun shines from a cloudless expanse, and tourists pack the beach. Restaurants line tables and chairs beneath shaded awnings. He wanders through the resort, searching for anything amiss, any clue.
"—wearing a black cape," he overhears someone say. "Could be the same as what they're saying in Midgar."
Two men talk at an outdoor bar, umbrella drinks in hand. One wears a straw hat and sips neon booze.
"Over here? But Shinra said—"
"Do you really trust Shinra?"
"So where did you see him?"
"Walking straight outta town, heading west. Brushed right by me. It drew my attention because I thought who would wear such a thing in this heat? Full hood and everything."
"What a weirdo."
"Or a killer…"
"You're so brave, going right past him. Did you see his face?"
The first man shakes his head.
"You always have such exciting stories."
The pair divulge into other conversation, but the description of the black cape could only mean the General.
Cloud dials Tifa. No answer. So he dials Barret.
"Is Tifa with you?" Cloud asks at once.
"Calm down. And yes, she is. We gettin' a bite with Aerith and Yuffie."
Converging in one place is a bad idea, Cloud thinks. Could draw Shinra's attention, but Barret won't listen anyway.
"West," Cloud says instead. "That's where the General went."
"You sure? That can't be right."
"Why not?"
"It's jes' a barren wasteland. Ain't nothing out there but mountains. Ain't even any clear path outside the highway."
"Then we'll make one."
"He probably got on a boat," Barret says. "A ship goin' north."
Cloud disagrees. "Someone in town saw a black cape heading west. On foot."
He lets this linger. Barret is chewing food.
"Awright, meet up with us." Barret describes an outdoor cafe relative to the beach, then hangs up.
At last, they are making progress. A route is open, and it's imperative they don't let it close.
Cloud heads along the beach, past families carting coolers and children running with drippy ice cream cones. A sandy gust interrupts a volleyball game. There isn't the faintest trace of worry in anyone's expression, yet Cloud finds it hard to breathe.
The crowds on the sands taper off. A pocket of cleared beach opens up, furthest from the noisy vendors and racing kids. A pasty man reclines in a beach chair next to two gorgeous bikini-clad women.
Cloud freezes.
That's Professor Hojo.
And the women are head scientists at Shinra Tower. All three lounge in the sun with melted dregs of drinks thrust in the sand below their chairs. The brunette fans herself. Hojo is wearing swim trunks and a white shirt. His spectacles are dark, and there's a strip of zinc on his nose.
If anyone knows anything about Sephiroth, it would be him. Cloud shouldn't talk to Hojo. Doing so could put the entire party at risk, but Hojo isn't part of Shinra anymore, nor does it look like he's in Costa del Sol in any official capacity.
He watches as one of the women says something to Hojo. She lifts her empty plastic cup.
Cloud should leave, walk away, pretend he never saw the professor here, and yet he cannot. This is the only person who has information about Jenova.
Hojo picks up the empty cups and walks towards the boardwalk. Cloud keeps out of sight and watches Hojo stroll to an outdoor bar. He orders a round of drinks. Then he goes to the restrooms.
Cloud follows without a specific plan. He just wants to corner Hojo and make him talk.
The restrooms are a separate building from the bar, decorated with bamboo and colorful wooden slats. Hojo enters. Cloud hesitates, but the chance is too great to pass up. When he enters, the restroom is almost empty. Hojo stands at a urinal with his back to the door. Another man is at the sinks, but after one look at Cloud's demeanor, the man rushes out.
The door slams. Cloud blocks the exit as Hojo walks to the sink.
Hojo finally looks up and sees Cloud behind him in the mirror.
"Oh," the professor remarks without surprise. "Of course, it's you."
Hojo sighs, flicking water from his hands.
"Of course you aren't dead. I told Heidegger it wouldn't be easy to kill you."
"Sephiroth," Cloud says, cutting right through the bullshit. "You told me he was dead."
Hojo grabs a towel from the dispenser. "He was. He is."
"So what the hell happened in the Shinra Tower?"
"You tell me," Hojo replies, wiping his spectacles clean. He examines them in the light, wipes them again. "You're the last one President Shinra met with, from what I'm told. And then the poor man turns up dead." He tsks. "Cloud, do you really think—"
"Jenova. It escaped. I want to know what happened to it and how. What is it?"
Hojo begins laughing. It's a shockingly cruel sound. The timbre of it resonates a deep-seated apprehension in Cloud, a strange fear.
"What's so funny…"
Hojo contains the cackle. "I was just reminded of a certain theory I have. Hmm, yes, I'm curious. What are you doing here in Costa del Sol?"
"What are you doing here?" Cloud counters, not ready to answer anything for Hojo.
"Hmm, compelled, were you?"
"Answer my question."
Hojo chuckles. "It should be obvious what I'm doing. I'm on vacation!" He spreads his arms wide, showcasing pallid skin. His smile fades into a sneer. "After that little twat Rufus forced my resignation, why not have a little me-time?"
Cloud hesitates, confused. "So you aren't following Sephiroth?"
Hojo eyes him with a greedy examination that leaves Cloud unsettled.
"Are you?" Hojo asks.
The two stand on edge. The professor won't give anything up, and Cloud should've known. It's only riddles and vagueness.
Cloud tries again. "Jenova. What is it and why does Sephiroth want it?"
Low laughter rumbles in Hojo's chest. Cloud reaches to his hilt.
"Answer me!" Cloud says.
Hands on hips, Hojo simply smiles. "Or what? What are you going to do, Cloud? You haven't got it in you. Too soft, we always knew. You never made First-Class. I read your records."
Cloud draws the sword anyways, keeping one foot on the door to block anyone's entry. He doesn't care to explain to Hojo what he was capable of doing to Heidegger.
"Things have changed," Cloud says. "I'm not Shinra's anymore."
"Ah, but you are still mine…"
The way Hojo says it shoots unease through him.
Hojo goes on, "We both aren't Shinra's anymore. All my years of research, decades of my life spent at the company… thrown out like garbage. The way you were when I found you."
"Jenova," Cloud repeats, trying to stay on track. He doesn't want to talk about Nibelheim. Or think about it. "What is that thing? I saw it aboard a ship. It had...changed. Tell me what it is!"
The sword tremors in his hands. Hojo notices.
"You already know what it is…" the professor replies.
"Stop talking so cryptically!"
"A calamity from the stars," Hojo recites. "That's the official record, anyways. In truth, it's my life's work. My genius has achieved monumental advances in biological enhancements, all stemming from the mother cells."
"...Mother?" The word thunders in Cloud's head.
"Sephiroth being one of them."
Cloud lowers the sword. "So he was made from its cells," he says, remembering the General's frenzied late-night research in the Shinra Mansion at Nibelheim. Just before he went insane.
"Mm, yes and no," Hojo replies.
"So what is it, exactly? This calamity?"
Hojo exhales loudly, done with all this rudimentary explanation.
"Get out of my way, Cloud. You wouldn't comprehend even if I told you, and you're ruining my buzz. You let loose my precious specimens—oh, yes, I know all about that—and now you're trampling all over my vacation. Can't you respect that I'm not here to answer your petty, dumb questions?"
The rebuke throws Cloud into silence. The threat of the sword has to become real if he's going to pull any answers from Hojo, which he isn't sure he's ready to do.
"I should turn you over to those Shinra idiots," Hojo says. "Sound the damn alarm and make you pay for wrecking my lab. But I can't suffer the joy that would bring Heidegger and Rufus. So why don't you move aside and just disappear? Let me go pick up my drinks and return to my beautiful ladies."
Intensity stifles the air between them. There's a moment when Cloud thinks he won't let Hojo go. All those answers inside that intellectual brain, waiting to be spilled.
"And don't you have someone to follow?" Hojo taunts. "Across the mountains, perhaps?"
To the west…
"How did you—?"
"I don't," Hojo says. "Not really." Then he breaks into laughter once more and moves outside the potential arc of Cloud's sword.
Cloud wants to say more, to squeeze anything else from this man, but the conversation is over. Hojo has kept control the entire time.
"I'll be seeing you again, I'm sure," Hojo says at Cloud's shoulder, and then he departs.
Cloud stands alone, flustered, yet answers can't come from a dead man. He'll need to seek another means of figuring out the truth and trust that Hojo won't relay his existence to anyone at Shinra.
Once outside, he spots Hojo returning to the beach chairs with drinks in hand. There's no sense hanging around. Hojo won't help, and Tifa and the others are waiting. The man in the black cape can't be far.
He wants to dissect Hojo's words, tearing out any small meaning he can. Confirmation that Sephiroth was part of Shinra's experimentation and that Hojo's been studying Jenova for decades, though, only deepens the mysteries.
"Yo, Cloud!" Barret yells from the corner cafe. He sits with Aerith, Tifa, and Yuffie at a table littered with empty coffee cups and plates.
"Can you not shout my name like that?" Cloud says once he's close.
"Ain't nobody care 'bout your damn name. Get over yo'self."
Tifa and Aerith look refreshed and radiant. Even Barret seems in better spirits after a short rest. Yuffie is counting out gil.
"Where did you get all that?" Cloud asks her.
She peers up. "I told you. I sold some materia." Then she produces a couple of colored orbs from her sleeve. "And then I stole it back."
Of course. He spots the Heal in the mix. She hands it over to Aerith.
"Just in case I get incapacitated or something," Yuffie says. "Probably best if someone else carries at least one from my favorite stockpile."
Aerith slots the materia into her telescoped staff. "Thanks, Yuffie. That's very kind of you."
The ninja gives Cloud an innocent look, but Cloud isn't buying it. Not yet. She's got another agenda; he's sure of it.
"So where to next?" she asks, cupping the gil into her wallet.
"West," Cloud says. "And we need to go now." He doesn't want to tell them he's spotted Hojo, and he doesn't want to chance Hojo or the scientists recognizing Aerith or Nanaki. With that unique fiery tail, their companion is bound to draw attention. "Where is Nanaki?"
"Waiting outside of town," Tifa says. "He said sand kept getting in his fur."
Barret takes one last bite of his sandwich. "I don't think headin' west is the right move. Ain't nothin' out there. No reason to go that way, even for a dead General."
Cloud's not going to engage with Barret. "You can stay here if you'd like. Though I'm sure by the morning more Shinra officials will arrive to investigate the cargo ship. Sephiroth went west, so that's where I'm going."
"Fun," Yuffie says.
Tifa pinches Barret's arm. "You just don't want to walk across the desert."
"You damn right I don't."
Cloud grabs the remnants of a doughnut off a plate. "C'mon," he says between chews. "Let's go."
The gang departs, stocked up on supplies and rejuvenated. Costa del Sol carries on. The sun bears down, and the rugged mountain path opens up. It's highways straight through, heavily trafficked by Shinra trucks.
They decide to rent a vehicle, using Yuffie's acquired funds, but all that's available is a dirty old pick-up truck. The group piles in, and soon the resort town is a spot against the diminishing azure ocean, and shades of pine replace the gentle vibrant palms.
