July 7, MMVII

The Crossing

Cloud could only think of two outcomes: he is entering a dream, or he is dead.

But truthfully, Cloud knows he is dead. Or he could be dying, and he is on his way to his place of rest, wherever that may be.

However, the afterlife must have a sense of humor if it deemed him worthy of crossing through such a beautiful place. Never while he had been alive had he crossed a path so beautiful and shining, crafted of starlight and diamonds. His old world did not have such beauty, and never in his old life had he ever felt or thought so poetically. It was somewhat unnerving.

Cataclysms of color and starlight shine so vividly across the skies above and around him. Gaia's known prism of colors is no match for the countless, nameless colors in this sphere of existence. Stars and planets and comets and meteors swirl and fly past and around and above this sparkling road. The air is purer and cleaner, free of the thick smell of war and the pollution of cities. Far cleaner than his dying place.

And his clothes––the afterlife did indeed have a sense of humor. He's never worn clothes like these:

It was still his SOLDIER uniform, with the dark pants and sleeveless turtleneck but refashioned into something he definitely wouldn't have worn in his old life. Maybe in this afterlife, clothes are expected to be altered from what he last wore. Now, his gauntlet has sharp claws, and the bandage wrappings of his forearm now extend up and around his shoulder. The glove on his right arm is longer and with more wrappings extended to his bicep. He had two pauldrons over his left shoulder, one made of some sort of camouflage leather and the other pauldron fashioned from two thick sheets of metal and corkscrews. That same camouflage pattern was on the ends of his pant legs as well, cut shorter and more bandage wrappings covering his calves down to his sandaled feet. Purple garlands with orbs of Materia were fashioned all around him, and a torn cape hung behind him, held in place with a leather waistband.

Another change he notices is that he is no longer carrying the Buster Sword with him. Cloud understands how unnecessary weapons must be in the afterlife. He's meant to rest, to not think about sudden attacks or infiltrating enemy territory or the onslaught of bloodshed. But the sword has been with him ever since Zack handed it down to him once he was discharged. He feels off-kilter without its weight. He just hopes that his war buddies will find it along with his body before the enemies do in their territory so it can make it safely back to Zack.

Dying at twenty-four is too soon, but he was a SOLDIER of the Shinra Army. That didn't make him immortal. But now that he has time walking across the bridge of light, he has time to think about all the things he could have done in his life.

He has so many could haves and would haves and should-haves. He shouldn't have crossed the empty, muddy field without the proper intel of the new enemy territory. He could have led his team in the opposite direction and faced the rebel Wutain guerilla bands head-on instead of walking into unknown territory. He knew better than to do something so reckless––his pride and desire to make himself feel prouder and better about himself short-sighted his decisions. Damn him, he knew better. He should have realized he was walking into a death trap of tripwires and bombs. He shouldn't have brought those five other SOLDIERS with him. He was just under seven weeks of being honorably discharged. He would have been able to visit his mom after two years abroad and bring Jessie with him to introduce them to each other finally. He should have just gotten over his trepidation and just asked Jessie to marry him just before they last saw each other.

When they clean out his quarters, they'll find the ring in the drawer of his bedside table.

He shouldn't have snapped at Wedge two nights for confronting him about what happened the other night at the local bar.

Is this what you want, Cloud? For everyone to hate you for being an asshole? To hurt Jessie?! Well, congratulations because it's working!

Cloud tried to block out the memory of the poisoned words he spat at Wedge and shut his eyes at the image of Wedge's hurt and disappointed face. Cloud never apologized.

He should have been a better friend to both Zack and Aerith––he hadn't been a good one to them lately. Or to anyone. And much less a good boyfriend ever since he began purposely ignoring Jessie's calls and text messages after he was deployed on a mission in Mideel with Wedge and Biggs. Running into Pricilla at the local bar in Mideel of all places didn't help either as he allowed her to steer him into one of the bar's backrooms and had Wedge catch him just as he was walking out with her. Indeed, lately, he has been a shitty person towards everyone around him.

It's too late to think about such things. Mercy, even, to leave it all behind. He wasn't exactly sure if his presence––his absence––made a difference. Not enough to try to repair the harm he'd caused to everyone around him.

Frankly, he should have been on his way to some hellish purgatory.

Somewhere within, he feels a dull ache.

But Cloud is curious as to why he is here, amongst such beauty and wonders. Shouldn't he be burning in some form of unbearable hell or just sitting in an empty void? Or even just no longer existing? Well, he supposes that it no longer matters where he ends up.

The young, hotheaded boy from Rocket Town with dreams of acceptance and pride––what happened to him? Once, he was the boy who wanted to prove himself to all the bullies who'd hurt him and to the town who scorned his mother. He was someone who hid his intelligence from everyone who believed him to be stupid and surprised them all when he graduated with top marks so that he could smugly rub it in every single one of their faces. He became one of the youngest members ever to join the Elite SOLDIER Squadron led under General Sephiroth. Cloud worked harder than anyone to achieve those dreams; he found his name mentioned in the newspaper more times than he could count, found good friends, a partner he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, a career that opened countless doors for him–– Cloud didn't know where that man was anymore.

Perhaps he slowly died along the way after witnessing countless unnecessary deaths in war.

Zack offered to take him to therapy, insisted on it, and warned him never to ignore mental health treatment. But Cloud ignored it––SOLDIERS were fearless and showed no weakness. At least, that was what he grew up hearing throughout his childhood when he first heard about SOLDIERS and the Great War Hero, Sephiroth. He thought that if he even dared to mention that he was looking for help, everyone back home would find out and go back to looking down on him. So he joined SOLDIER and was immediately recruited by Sephiroth himself, already feeling like he was on his way to glory and acceptance. He carefully watched his idol, joined him on his missions, and started copying almost every little thing Sephiroth did. Sephiroth kept things to himself and never failed to execute any orders given to him. And so did Cloud. Though he wondered if Sephiroth, too, felt bits and pieces of himself crumble away.

Cloud sees that he is drawing near the end of the sparkling path. He sees no crossroads, no gate, no door, no stairs, no one to greet him. As if all he needed to do was take a step forward, to allow the dull ache within him to tug him, and he would freefall forever through this abyss of stars and planetary beings. He'll accept this ending. It wasn't like he had a choice in the manner anyway.

Cloud looks towards his left and marvels at the remarkable cosmic beast of beauty before him—branches of lightwaves and color weave across the sky from a central point of light. The stars and planets are bowing before it. He wonders if this is the place he learned about in an Ancient Cetran Civilizations and Religions class he took in university, where he learned about the myths and legends of the extinct race of people. One of the legends claimed that the creation of this universe and universes far beyond were born and willed into existence in a place called the Edge of Creation, ruled by Eternal Celestial Beings and Planetary Spirits who lived even beyond immortality. Who were––are immortality. Or so the legends said.

Will they visit him before he reaches the end? Will they judge his misdeeds and his character before he takes the final plunge? For some reason, the possibility of such a meeting makes him feel aggravated. Resentful. He might even spit at their feet if they showed up.

Cloud stops just before the end of the path, looking down only to find nothing below. He will indeed be in free fall for who knows how long and sees no boundary beyond the miles of starlight.

He looks behind him to see the miles of starlight he has traveled. This path stretches so far across this large expanse of starlit sea. The sight makes his chest––his soul?––ache. He's discontent with this feeling and turns away again to the abyss below.

One step. Cloud needs only to take this one step. He is not afraid.

He takes one last look at the stars, the planets, the comets, and the cosmic beast—a little bit of beauty to carry with him for his freefall into eternity. A shooting star flies past him.

Cloud steps forward.

Only he isn't free falling.

He's standing on his two feet, gravity pulling him down as he stares down at himself in a reflective pool of water at his feet. He looks around, splashing and creating noise that ruins the peace and tranquility above and all around him.

The stars––they are far above and beyond him. The glittering path of stars that he walked upon just moments before now spans across the sky.

High and above him where he finds himself standing in the center of a crater.

Water marshes covered in floating, lush greenery, steady streams flowing across, and grey rock blanket across the flat expanse of the crater's basin. The greenery extends sporadically across the slopes of the crater. The sky, this place, is suspended in forever sparkling twilight in light hues of lavender, pink, peach, and nightly blue, with the stars still shining bright.

Cloud looks around the area. There's no one here with him. He at least wanted to see his father. He never knew the man, only that he passed away when he was a baby. According to his mother, although she passed on her coloring, Cloud looked just like his father. He wanted to find out if that was true.

In his old world, he wanted nothing more than blessed silence and lack of company. He got what he wanted in his place of rest. But the ache he experienced on the shining path has returned tenfold. He feels so incredibly lonely and sorrowful. And he doesn't know why.

He tries to look up again at the sea of stars, but the sight anguishes him. He realizes that his vision is blurred, and now he cannot stop the stream of tears that fall across his cheeks. He viciously wipes them away, only to find the water at his feet reflecting the glittering sky. He rushes out, scrambling to get away from the sight of the stars. He is not in control of his emotions or his actions. He has no explanation for this unprecedented range of emotions clawing from deep inside of him.

Now, Cloud wants to scream. But it finally occurs to him that he has not uttered a word since he left his world behind––not even a grunt or a sigh. So he tries to speak, to make any sound come out from him.

He opens his mouth, but no sound emits from his throat.

He is now afraid.

Maybe the freefall would have been a better ending for him. At least there, he would be in control of his feelings; he may have been able to utter words and would only have to watch the blur of the stars pass by him as he fell.

He runs across the basin of the crater. He runs only to see the sight of the stars reflecting in the waters he is now running across. The tears return, along with a feeling of immense sorrow and anguish that has no explanation. No reason. No purpose other than to torment him.

Have his emotions from his old world come to claim him at last? Is he to pay for retribution here? Is he to keep his memories so that he will never escape the sins of his past? Has he lost his ability to speak forever to be lost in the confines of his thoughts and memories?

He reaches the slopes and does not slow down. He only runs and runs up, unsteadily climbing his way up towards the edge of the crater. The tears won't stop, and there is a tug pulling at his heart that is unbearing on his nerves, so much that he shakes and trips his way up to the edge. He can't stand it. He can't stand this inability to control his body's reactions or his heart's emotions. Perhaps this place was hell after all—a place of deceived beauty in exchange for lack of control over himself and his body.

He pulls himself up and keeps on running for the edge of the crater.

He reaches the edge of the crater, falling to his knees as he gulps down air into his lungs, but still, no sound comes out from him. For a moment, Cloud thinks that the reason he can't hear himself make sound is that he must have lost his hearing as he made the crossing from the starlit path to this plane.

But no. Cloud hears a faint zephyr flow past him.

Down below and stretching beyond the horizon, he finds nothing but grey bedrock. No green life or waters exist beyond this crater. And he downright refuses to be stuck in this place.

He looks across to the other side of the crater, where there is no sun in the sky, but the light emits from the west. Perhaps he will find paths and roads that will take him away from this place on the other side. There has to be an escape from this hell.

He runs, runs, runs. He pushes himself to run faster. Finally, the tears have stopped, and a different emotion is surging from deep within him. He nearly jolts at the realization that he can name it.

Rejoice.


Tifa had arrived not too long ago, sitting comfortably on a makeshift seat from a few slabs of rocks she pushed together to watch the soft twilight in front of her and the expanse of stars above her.

Well, as comfortably as she could with this outfit.

She arrived here in a short gown of sheer blue and aqua silk layers, dusted in glitter and sparkles. She might be a bit crazy to think so, but she swears that the rhinestones and sparkles are stardust and diamonds. Delicate, floral string trimmings support her bust and over her shoulders. There is black lace trimming along the edges and the bottom of the long skirt from behind. Black stars and crescent moons pattern the front of her dress. A cream fabric laced with more black trimming circles her waist with a gold crescent moon ornament attached on the side of her hip with dangling teal tassels. She wears billowing sleeves made of the same blue and aqua silk and dangling crescent moons at the ends. A black netting of thick thread wraps around her right leg, and she is wearing platform sandals patterned with more stars and crescent moons. A headdress of gold chains with more star and crescent moon charms and a black rose lay perched atop her head. Her hair is long and dark again in this place.

The gown is a far outcry from the purple nightgown she was wearing before she passed on. But it is the most beautiful gown she has ever worn.

Tifa thought Heaven would be much brighter. Ever since she was a child, she imagined Heaven to be a place of bright sunshine with magnificent clouds and green hills, walking upon streets of gold and jewels. She had thought that maybe her mother would be here, waiting to greet her and lead her past grand gates of pearl stone. Or perhaps they would stay and wait for her father.

She never imagined that night could still exist after death—a place of quiet, sincere beauty with the light of the stars to guide her steps.

Then again, she did walk across a road of stars before she arrived. Her journey through that plane of galaxies and supernovas and planets and all the beauty of space was breathtaking, so to come here to a land of rock was a bit of an anticlimax. She had traveled up from the basin of the meteor crater to reach the outer edge. She even slipped out of her shoes to be able to walk through the water marshes before she reached the rocks. She hated every minute of that unbearable climb, silently mourning for her bared feet.

Indeed, it wasn't what she had imagined of Heaven, but she was perfectly content to spend her afterlife here. Underneath a blanket-filled sky of brilliant starlight. Not even the last Nibelheim night sky she witnessed before her death could compare.

She was glad she made the hidden prairie of Nibelheim her place of rest just before death claimed her. She was tired of hospital beds, chemotherapy, bitter medicine, and empty promises from the doctors of finding better treatments. The cancerous tumor in her left breast had developed into an irreversible disease when she finally returned for a yearly check-up after her first battle with the other tumor in her right breast. As a teenager, she knew cancer would be passed down to her from her mother's side. But to develop it as young as twenty-two was not what she or her father were expecting.

But she fought it. She fought for a little more than a year, with her father and her friends supporting her. Rude had never left her side and encouraged her to have a mastectomy when she initially hesitated. She had been afraid of losing more of her femininity after losing all of her long, dark hair when she underwent her first rounds of chemo. And dear Rude had shaved his hair off with her––she did prefer him with a shaved head although she did sometimes miss his lovely curls and the ponytail he wore to maintain it.

And she won. She felt victorious after her first battle. She finished school in Midgar, graduated, opened up her bar in Edge, and watched it flourish. She made time to be with her boyfriend, her father, and her friends. Life was beautiful. She started to gain confidence in her outward appearance despite the shorter locks and the ugly scar underneath her breast. She and Rude had plans to marry after that evening in their apartment, he knelt on one knee and presented her with a ring of rose gold with a heart-shaped diamond in the center and sparkling diamonds around the band. There was no need for her to go back to the hospital. There was no need to return to bleached floors, white walls, and despair.

Had she not ignored her doctor's letters that arrived in the mail reminding her to visit her doctor for her check-ups, she could have prevented the disease from developing from her right breast to straight across to her other and deep down into the muscles and lungs.

She had been irresponsible. And she had put all of her loved ones through that sorrow once more. Her doctor had recommended all sorts of treatments, suggesting traveling to Wutai or Mideel for new case studies of new medicines and treatments in development. She ignored those offers, refusing to put such a heavy burden on her father. She closed down her bar to be able to afford her new treatments and all the medicine prescribed to her––she had to relearn about Midgar's ridiculous health care system and overly expensive pharmaceuticals.

Another year and a half of fighting, but her body couldn't overcome it. She had grown so tired. Rude knew that time was not on his side when he found out that chemo was not helping, nor any of the treatments she underwent. He wanted to get married as soon as possible. To him, it was his only way of providing her just a little bit of happiness in her bleak life.

But Tifa hadn't wanted to do that to him. To make him a widow so soon after marriage sounded cruel to her. If he did marry, she wanted it to be for life with someone who would grow old with him. But, gods knew how much she wanted to say yes.

Even while she rejected him, Rude continued to stay throughout her entire process until she eventually departed to her father's home in Nibelheim. That final goodbye outside of her apartment building…

I wanted it to be you, Tifa. For life and beyond.

I love you, too.

Please, let me come with you.

Be happy, Rude.

She didn't want to extend their goodbye. If she had allowed him to accompany her to the airport, he would have taken his chance to buy a ticket and leave with her. She had watched his figure grow smaller in the rearview mirror, and she silently wept and brushed her tears as Marle had taken her to the airport. Her friend, her mentor, and her mother figure sent her off with a kiss on the forehead.

Her father waited for her at the airport, standing tall and brave as he greeted his sick daughter. But when they arrived home, he broke and begged for forgiveness for not finding a cure for her.

She made the most of her borrowed time. Every moment, every second of the borrowed time she had left. She baked and cooked dinner with her father, read and finished a trilogy, took long walks in the Nibelheim horse trails and forest, visited the local bakery for their famous chocolate chip cookies, and wrote all of her final letters for her loved ones.

For Yuffie, she let her young friend know about the large assortment of Materia she found in one of the Nibel Caves during her walks. The amount of Materia she found would help to aid Yuffie's dissertation when she finished her studies of continued Materia usage to enhance the human body. She let her spunky friend know in her letter just how proud she was of her.

She left a check in the letter she wrote to Kyrie to donate on her behalf for The Women's Resource Center at The Leaf House Community Center. Her outspoken and loud friend had become a community organizer for Under Plate city dwellers and advocated for all citizens in Midgar, regardless of gender, to get checked for breast cancer after she witnessed Tifa's first breast cancer journey. She knew her friend would continue to do work in the Under Plate Community and advocate for healthcare for all the Under Plate people.

And to Rude...she left behind a piece of her heart, her final words of encouragement to join the TURKS Division, and her wish for him to find happiness.

On her final night on Gaia, she felt death beckoning her to sweeter slumber. But she didn't want to be in her bedroom. She wanted one final night beneath the Nibelheim sky. So she pressed a long kiss to her father's forehead as he remained deep in sleep and more kisses to her sealed letters. She left a note for her father to let him know where she had gone and just how much she loved him.

Perhaps it was a little over-dramatic and cliche for Tifa to choose hidden Nibel Prairie as her resting place. But she had loved the stars for too long to be apart from them. And sneaking out at night was child's play. Growing up, she would sneak out her window at night, and she would spend hours trying to count the millions of stars far above, share secrets with the moon in her teenage years, and make wishes to every falling star she ever witnessed. When Tifa moved to Midgar, how she missed that irreplaceable scenery, such sorrow and longing haunted her while she lived in the city––she had never been able to explain this inexpressible love she had for the stars and the night sky.

She loved the way she parted: her mother's shawl over her long, purple nightgown, the wool beanie her father gifted her for Yule covering her bare head, laying atop the soft grass, the light wind carrying the lovely smell of wood and evergreen, and the stars beckoning her to let go.

So to be here, in her place of rest, closer and yet still so far away from the stars, was more than she could have ever hoped.

Even if she was alone––that she didn't understand.

Why was she out here alone? Shouldn't there be someone here with her? Her mother should be here at least. Someone to keep her company while she waited for the beloved she left behind in the world of the living. She felt too lonely. She didn't like the thought of being out here alone, but she would try to make do with the company of the stars.

Out of nowhere, she felt a ripple in the atmosphere. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and her heart was beating a little bit faster. Something had arrived at this place, but when she turned and swept her gaze across the circumference of the crater, she found nothing. But she didn't feel alone.

Suddenly, her sight was blurry. She blinked only to feel trails of tears streaming down her face. She gently wipes her tears, confused at this sudden change in her emotions. She feels sadness and anguish and delight and anticipation within her. She carefully rises to her feet, mindful of the platform sandals she's wearing and now finding them cumbersome as she tries to walk over rocks.

A pulse ripples into her soul, and she feels its fear and anxiety. Tifa tries to search for the source of that pulse across the crater––her soul is trying to find it. Something within her wants to wrap around that pulse, comfort it, and protect it from its fear.

She wants to––

Tifa gasps sharply at the warmth building in her. She wants to wrap that pulse with love.

She's going crazy. This place is driving her mad. Her father always made a point to let her know of her strange infatuation with the stars and all the things found in the night. It might be finally starting to get to her, but why here? Love is outpouring within her for no one but this strange ripple of existence that suddenly disturbed the peace she found here upon her arrival.

She wants to run towards that pulse so she can confront it to leave. Or to draw it into her embrace.

Tifa feels that pulse drawing closer. That pulse is beating with fear and anxiety.

She's terrified. She has no idea from which direction it is coming, but she runs.


Cloud has already raced across half of the rim of the crater.

His fear is swallowing him whole. Loneliness is threatening to engulf him. This lack of control of his body shakes his nerves, and he doesn't know how to escape it.

He stops to draw in gulps of air because his lungs are exhausted from hyperventilating and running. He's terrified that he can't even utter the sounds of his own lungs' breathing in precious air from his damn panic attack. He still has yet to find a path that will take him away from the crater. He's longing to leave while this place demands that he stay a little while to torment him.

Something starts to burn in Cloud's chest. Something brutal and beautiful, peaceful and heart-wrenching, joyful and painful. His damn soul is begging him to look around. But there is nothing here.

He picks up his pace as he starts running again. He's drawing closer to the horizon brightened by twilight. There is still nothing and no one in this place with him. He still sees no paths or roads.

Until he feels, more than sees,...something. He halts violently, nearly falling to his knees.

With so many emotions warring in his heart and his thoughts loud in his head, he can't fully comprehend it. But this something is demanding he acknowledges its existence.

He draws in calming breaths to silence himself, to listen. He can't hear anything aside from the soft breezes. He traces his gaze along the edge of the crater and still sees nothing. But this something is here. And it's somehow familiar to him. He feels his heart tingle with utter joy, and his heart is tugging at him to keep looking for it.

Whatever it was, he had been searching for a long time for it.

Forgiveness, an answer, a who, a what, a how, a why––it was to be found here.

He somehow knows that it is looking for him too.

But it's running away––Cloud panics. It's leaving him behind, and his heart viciously twists at its desire to put distance between him, and he can't bear it. He wants to scream in grief, and he thinks he'll be able to if this something leaves him. Cloud senses it departing from him, but he has no idea in which direction.

And he throws logic to the wind and starts running closer towards the brightened horizon with twilight fading.


The pulse is in terror again. It's filled with a panic and anguish and grief that is too much for Tifa to bear. And she feels it fleeing––or searching? She's not sure, and she doesn't know what to do. Her head is heavy with dizziness, and her heart is hurting.

Where else could she go to search for it?

There was nothing but rock, the water marshes in the crater's basin, and the stars above.

She turns back sharply and decides to dash in the opposite direction. She has yet to realize that twilight has faded for the stars and the moons and all planetary beings in the sky to shine brightly above her in wait.


He's drawing closer. Cloud knows he is. He is a moon locked in orbit to find and forever follow this path straight to it.

The sight of stars pain him, but this it is the only star his soul will ever follow.


She is still running and searching. She won't stop until she finds it.


Long ago, and many lifetimes after, a Princess of Stars and a SOLDIER met in death. They meet once again in passing.


Cloud halts.

He hears it––her halt.

His eyes widened. He's not sure if he just saw a vision or her ghost.

He's afraid to turn around––to find himself tormented and to not find her there and be forever haunted by her image and never see her again.

He hears a gasp and a soft whimper. Cloud thinks he is whimpering too because he can finally release sound and finds he doesn't care. Tears stream down his face, but he has to know. He has to see if she is real.

He turns slowly, his face downturned in trepidation and nerves and fear. He sees a pair of feet adorned in platform sandals, and his gaze traces long, toned legs. She is wearing her royal gown of blue silk fabric encrusted with stardust and diamonds and her family's emblem of the Crescent Moon pinned to her hip.

He swallows as he raises his eyes to take in her lovely face: her lips, her chin, her nose, her eyes––not even the purest of rubies or Materia in Gaia could compare. But there are unending tears in her eyes that are streaming down her face and staining her cheeks. How his soul aches at the sight of those tears.

He could never find words to describe everything about her. Words were of no match to her beauty. Even with her immortal grace gone, her ethereal beauty still brightens the world.

The Heavenly River painted across the sky above them glows unnaturally brighter above at their reunion.

"Tiferet."

There is no other name or word he cares ever to speak.

She is frozen, eyes unblinking and shining with sorrow and remorse and disbelief. Joy and love are warring in her gaze. She, too, doesn't believe in the truth of this moment. And he is afraid to do anything else in fear that this moment will be ruined forever and snatched from them.

"...cloud?"

Such pain in her voice, and what he wouldn't give to take away that pain that has no place in that beautiful heart of hers.

"Cloud?" she whimpers. "Cloud? Cloud, Cloud, Cloud. Cloud!" She rushes without an ounce of care, nearly tripping, as she wraps her arms around his neck and tightly as he twirls her in a heavy embrace.

She's here.

She's here.

Tiferet is here.

She is in his arms again. But, gods, he wants to believe that he will never let her go again.

"Tiferet," he gasps in gentle elation. Her scent swamps over him––such a pure, clean scent. Every heartbeat, every blink, every muscle movement, his every word overflows with her. She's gasping in laughter and sobs into his neck, and she is unable to contain the torment of passion within her. What is left of what she once was, glows from deep within her. Her skin is shining purer than the moon and stars.

"You're here," she cries, tears matting into his skin.

"I'm here." He is crying into her hair.

"And you are with me."

"I am with you."

He needs nothing more than this beautiful love she has given him and has always given to him and has always filled him and has always cleaned his soul—all of her love given to a mortal man.

They fall to their knees, but he quickly gathers her into his lap before she scrapes her knees against the rock. She grabs fistfuls of his shirt above his heart, weeping and gasping his name over and over again. He presses his nose deeper into her long, luxurious dark tresses. He rubs soothing circles on her back and presses light kisses into her hair.

Her scent triggers an onslaught of memories returning to him––of her memories and his memories.

Memories of a lifetime ago––

Of a planet of starlight settled amongst the brightest of galaxies.

A green planet living off of a conscious, green stream of life.

A bright, burning, threatening star.

How Cloud hates to remember why they are here. Why this moment, this reunion, no matter how beautiful and fulfilling it may seem, is far crueler than anything he has experienced in his life––in his lives. Of why he always has, and always will, hate the stars. How the stars won't ever let them escape their sin.


Author's Note: This fanfiction is created with heavy inspiration and direct elements from "Your Name", "Sailor Moon", and "Faith (The Great Doctor)", and direct source material from Ila Baratolla's Tifa Mature Outfit Celestial Redesign and Cloud's SOLDIER Redesign.

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