Bang.
The sharp clang echoed in the colosseum as bullets ricocheted off Cloud's sword-gun. As far as shields went, it was a terrible one. The blade was barely thicker than both his arms and the gun add-ons only served to make the heavy weapon heavier. It was only because he'd trained with it for so long that Cloud could wield it with any semblance of grace.
Shots slipped past his shoddy defense, grazing his white sleeves as he charged forward across the sandy floor. It was a reckless tactic, for sure, to run headlong into a dozen men armed to the teeth with knives, guns, and bombs. There were no objects to duck and hide behind, no shelter from the oncoming onslaught. His plaid black vest would need even more patching after this.
Then again, no one had ever praised Cloud for his strategies. In fact, most told him he had a death wish.
His only counter was that he was efficient. No one could get to the enemy quicker than him and a few scrapes weren't enough to stop his mana-enhanced body. For all he hated his magic, it came in handy at times like these. Strengthening his arms, improving his stamina, enhancing his speed; there were few that could keep up with him when he went all out.
Cloud grunted as he attacked the closest guy, his sword coming down hard on the man's chest. His blade sliced through his opponent's padded suit as though it were paper. A shift in the air informed Cloud that another enemy was coming from behind. As the woman attacked, Cloud ducked and retaliated with a jab to her gut.
The audience cheered and screamed, a deafening roar that muted almost all other battle noises. Don Corneo's illegal fights were always to a packed crowd, not a single seat left empty regardless of who duked it out in the coliseum. The citizens of Midgar were desperate for some release while the government cracked down hard on anything that was remotely 'entertaining'.
And there were few fights as fun as watching Cloud make mincemeat of his opponents. Not that he cared for these battles; they were an utter waste of time. Unfortunately, the gambling paid the Don and the Don paid him, so there wasn't any choice but to enter the arena time and time again. By now he was used to the underground fights, the florescent lights bathing everything a sickly yellow.
At least he wasn't alone. From the corner of his eye, Cloud spotted a black cat sneaking around his opponents. Small and light-footed, no one noticed the feline as she weaved her way to the far end of the arena. The second she reached the last guy in the back, the cat morphed into a young, athletic woman with a cocky smirk. There had been a time when he wondered just how Yuffie kept her newsboy hat and tomboyish suit as a cat, but by now he'd long accepted it was just part of her magic.
Besides, if he asked any questions, she might mistake that as caring, and Yuffie was insufferable as it was.
Their eyes met and Yuffie grinned. She couldn't resist crowing as she knocked out two enemies with jabs to their neck. She had called herself a ninja when they'd first met and it was at times like these that he believed her. No matter how many times she had shown him the skill, Cloud had never been able to replicate it.
"Shit! There's another one!" a woman shouted as she looked over her shoulder and spotted Yuffie. She whirled on her heel, her gun pointing at Yuffie.
It was too late. Yuffie flung a dagger at her stomach and another at the gun's barrel. There was a soft bang as it misfired and the woman was down for the count.
That left ten people.
Easy pickings. Cloud wiped the blood from his lip before joining the fray once more. It was time they ended this.
-x-
Yuffie whistled cheerfully, her arms crossed behind her head as they left the colosseum. In the sunlight, she looked mostly human, aside from the odd whisker on her cheeks, the cat-like slit of her eyes, the way her short, black hair looked like two cat ears were poking out of them. Her nails were still razor-sharp in this form, something Cloud had learned the hard way during a poker game.
She grinned, revealing two sharp canines. "That was fun."
Cloud didn't bother dignifying that with a response, merely giving her a dry stare.
Not that he should have bothered; even his worst glare didn't work on her. Yuffie reached over and flicked his arm. "Geez, who pissed in your pants? Would it kill you to smile?" she chided, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't even a hard fight! You could have handled them alone and blindfolded."
His lips tugged unconsciously into a smirk.
Yuffie shot him a disgusted look. "You're terrible."
Cloud shrugged. What was he supposed to do, deny her accidental praise? The colosseum was full of the Don's guards, and those guards were the most average, forgettable men money could buy. If anything, Cloud had to lower his own abilities to give them a fighting chance. Or, at least to make it seem like they had one so people would still bet.
There was no point in discussing this further. He kicked a stray pebble as they headed toward the Don's mansion. The cobbled path was surprisingly empty; most pedestrians were inside watching the next match. Cars lined the street, their drivers having a smoke as they waited for the wealthier patrons.
Changing the subject, he asked, "How much did you take?"
Yuffie stiffened and averted her gaze. Her ears flattened slightly. It was almost comical how easy it was to read her. "Don't know what you're talking about."
He snorted. Yuffie was an excellent thief and a good partner, but she was a shit liar. She couldn't even bluff her way through a card game. "I might as well have been fighting alone. So, how much did you take?"
She glared at him but it didn't last long. As usual, Yuffie couldn't resist the chance to brag. Smirking, she pulled a heavy purse out of her pocket, the bag jingling from the weight of the coins within. "Enough for a couple rounds of drinks, at least. Don't know why they carried so much when they're just fighting."
Cloud snatched the bag before she could hide it again. It was like prying teeth forcing her to share her gains. "Good job."
"You could at least smile when you say that." Yuffie pouted, smacking him lightly on the arm. "You're either annoyingly cocky or annoyingly brooding. Would it kill you to—" Her head cocked and he could see the gears rotating in her mind. She was about to say something inane again. "Wait, is it cause we're working for the Don? I don't like these fights either, but what're you gonna do? He owns like half the town."
It was a fair point. If they pissed off the Don, they'd have a hard time finding another job in Midgar. And she wasn't wrong either. He hated being shackled to that greasy slimeball.
"We should leave," Cloud muttered under his breath. There were other towns, other opportunities.
"Huh?" Of course Yuffie heard, her senses were far keener than his. "Did you just—"
"You're late," a man interrupted.
Before they'd realized, they had reached the Don's mansion. It was a gaudy yet imposing structure. Golden doors with a bright red frame greeted them, the colour scheme screaming noveau riche. The inside was even more hideous, with mismatched expensive goods just there to show off wealth. Cloud was grateful he never had to enter the place. Standing in front of it all was a lanky, silver-haired man, his eyes partially hidden by the flat cap he wore. Leslie looked as bored as ever as he leaned against the door. "We'll give you your winnings in the evening."
Cloud glared. They could have told him that before he'd walked all the way here. "Seriously?"
"Not my rules," Leslie replied apathetically. For someone who handled most of the Don's backroom affairs, he didn't seem to care about either his boss or his job. He shrugged. "The calculations are after all the bets are tallied."
"Aww, come on." Yuffie grumbled, her cheeks puffing. "I wanted to celebrate."
"Celebrate tonight then." Leslie rubbed his neck. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing pale, muscular arms. With his average build, he wouldn't last long in match against Cloud. "The Don wants you to check the security at his usual spots. He's expecting something to happen this week."
Immediately, Cloud rejected the job. "No, I'm—"
"Very excited to do it!" Yuffie chirped, elbowing Cloud in the gut. When he glared at her, she hissed, "You can't blow this till after we get our paycheck. I've already spent a mint here."
"That's your problem," Cloud retorted, rubbing his side.
"Our problem," Yuffie snapped back. "We're partners." She turned to Leslie with a smile. "We'll do it."
If Leslie had an opinion about the argument, he didn't let it show. Pushing off the wall, he straightened and ambled off to the colosseum. "Meet me at the Seventh Heaven bar at nine. I'll give you the details then."
-x-
A haze of smoke filled the crowded bar. A woman sang slowly and seductively, her voice a breathy whisper. People chattered, their drunken voices creating a cacophony. All in all, it was a place Cloud did not want to be in. There were too many people and not enough exits.
And the smoke brought back more memories than he cared to admit.
He slouched on a purple sofa, his foot tapping the wooden floor impatiently as he waited for Leslie. The man had told him to come here and he was late. Ten minutes late. And Yuffie had already disappeared, more interested in fun than the job she'd forced on him.
When he got out of here, he was going to learn how to skin a cat.
"Cloud?"
Hearing his name, Cloud looked up, expecting Leslie or Yuffie. Instead, there was no one around him, no one turning to him with some nonsensical banter. He scanned the bar, double-checking that he hadn't missed Leslie, that those silver—
Warm amber eyes met his.
He'd know those eyes anywhere.
Tifa.
Immediately, he felt nauseous, bile rising to his mouth. He jerked his eyes away, unable to keep contact. Despite sitting, the room swayed. Cloud could smell something burning. He should get out. He needed to get out.
"Cloud!"
This time, he recognized her voice, the familiarity with which she said his name, the peals of desperation in it.
When he refocused on her, it was too late to get up and run. Tifa was already pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes glued on him.
-x-
It was Cloud. Tifa couldn't believe it. It had been years but he still looked the same, with that ridiculous spikey blonde hair and lost, sullen expression. If anything, he had gained muscle over the years, his scrawny frame filling out. Despite his seated position, she was certain he was taller now too.
And his eyes…had his eyes always been that bright? That blue?
"Tifa?" Jessie asked, waving a gloved hand and breaking her out of her reverie. "You okay?"
Cloud looked like a deer in the headlights, like he would bolt at the slightest trigger. There was no time to lose. Tifa leapt over the bar, ignoring Jessie's surprised yelp. All but running to the table, she called out, "Cloud!"
He stared at her wide-eyed, as though he were rooted at the spot. Part of her feared that he'd disappear like another dream if she looked away.
She couldn't imagine why he looked like wanted to run.
"It's really you, right?" Tifa asked, pushing past a drunk woman to reach him. Before he could react, she grabbed his hands. They were warm. He was real. This was real.
Cloud flinched at the contact and averted his gaze. She was grateful he didn't pull away. Without the contact, she was afraid she was imagining their reunion. Quietly, he mumbled, "Yeah. It's been a while."
A while? It had been years. Years where she had wondered if he was still alive. The thrill of a reunion was replaced with a familiar boil of rage. Why was he acting like a sullen schoolboy, like it was a punishment to be here?
Tifa clenched her jaw and pushed the bubbling anger down. That could be saved for tomorrow, under the sun when she felt strong and invincible. Maybe he was just shocked. Maybe he needed time. Right now, all that mattered was the fact that her childhood friend was alive.
"Yeah, it has," she agreed, forcing a smile. How did you survive? was a question she desperately needed to ask. The fire had destroyed both of their homes, their families. When she had woken up in the hospital after, alone and orphaned, no one had known where he'd gone. If he'd even survived, or if he were lost in the ashes.
Had he missed her? Did he ever return to their hometown? What had happened since then? Even more questions sprung as she stared at him.
Yet, Cloud still looked like a skittish colt and she could feel it in her bones that he'd flee if she pushed too hard. Besides, the bar was not the place for these personal questions. Around them, Tifa could see her customers discretely leaning closer, trying to hear. Information was currency in this town.
She didn't want her personal life being sold for a quick buck.
Tifa forced herself to relax. "I didn't know you were in Midgar. You live here too?"
"No, just passing through." And still, Cloud didn't look at her. His hands felt clammy in hers, his voice strained. If she felt for his pulse, she was certain it would be running a mile a minute. "It's a temporary job."
"Right," Tifa replied, remembering what Jessie said. "As one of the Don's men."
It bothered her more than she cared to admit. Not that she hadn't done some unscrupulous jobs herself, in order to survive. Sometimes, there were no other options, especially for penniless orphans with few skills and fewer connections. Still, nothing felt as sleezy as the Don. Even thinking about him made her crave a bath.
Either way, that was neither here nor there. Another thing she could deal with tomorrow. Tifa gestured at the bar. "I work here, at the bar." She giggled, rubbing her neck nervously. "Though, I guess that was obvious."
"A little," Cloud agreed, his lips upturning slightly as he finally met her eyes.
It wasn't like his shy smiles as a kid, but it was something. Emboldened, Tifa pressed, "Where are you staying? Do you need help around town?" She patted her chest. "I could guide you around. I know the best places to get your gear or food."
And just like that, he shut back down. His head dipped slightly, his line of sight moving from her eyes to somewhere just beside her. "I'm just here for work."
He couldn't hold her gaze. Tifa tried not to think about it. There were more important things to focus on. Cloud's skin was pale and there were circles under his eyes. It didn't look like he'd been eating or sleeping well. "How long are you working for the Don?"
Cloud shrugged nonchalantly. "It depends on how long he needs me."
A tendril of hope curled within her. She could work with this. "You'll need more work after, right?"
Hesitantly, Cloud nodded. "I guess…"
She tightened her grip on his hand. "Do you have a business card? I know some people who could use a bodyguard."
Cloud jerked his eyes back to hers now. She can't read his expression. "That isn't—"
"And there's other people who could use someone in your line of work," Tifa pressed on, refusing to let him push her way any further. "Don't worry, this is what friends do, right?"
Cloud paled even further and he flinched again. "Friends." A brief flash of pain crossed his face as he stood up, yanking his hand out of her grip. Despite that, he pulled a card out of his pocket and plopped it on her waiting palm.
She didn't look at it. The second she looked away, he'd leave. "Are you okay?"
"It's nothing," Cloud replied. The conversation was shutting down. He shifted his weight. "I need to go."
"Wait—"
Tifa couldn't get another word in edgewise before he pivoted and disappeared through the crowd. The only proof that he had even been here at all was the card on her hands. She wrapped her hands around the lifeline tightly.
Just what had happened to him?
