The village of Kisoz, which was built near the geographical feature after which it was named, was a small but thriving village which managed to stand out against the stony backdrop of its otherwise drab surroundings by means of numerous multi-colored decorations. Deeps shades of reds and oranges and yellows danced across the buildings, squares, and streamers which composed the settlement. It was a harsh contrast to the dull and faded greys and browns which littered the surrounding rocky wastes; the village stood out like a shining star in the darkness of the canyon's stony embrace.
Further beyond the village edge the immense visage of Mount Kisoz rose in vertical distance. The mountain's summit loomed just above the cloud tops, its jagged edges scrapping roughly against floating puffs of white. The cliff edge upon which the village was built had predictable weather, usually the summit either trapped or deflected passing rain clouds. From the cliff heights it was easy to see when a storm was coming and to take necessary precautions. However, this was not the case for weather at the cliff summit. From its looming heights, the summit produced weather that was neither hospitable nor predictable. For these reasons the villagers of Kisoz usually avoided the summit. Only the brave or foolhardy dared to test themselves against its heights and it was ever the duty of the village counsel to keep impetuous young boys from climbing its sheer faces and dangerous peaks in an effort to prove their machismo.
For Cloud his trip to the summit had nothing to do with proving his worthiness. The mercenary had seen enough of the bad life to know it was a journey he could endure. After his mission in Lasbruck with Leon had ended, Cloud had been contacted by a close friend and passed certain information. That information was the impetus for his current climb. The trip from Lasbruck to Kisoz had taken him three hard days at his normal speed, now the trip to the summit was taking just as long.
As the mercenary climbed he reached up to grasp at a small length of pink fabric, fingers tightening around the small fabric as he pulled it closer to his face. The cold of the mountaintop was beginning to get to him. The first day had been a combination of driving rain, snow, and sleet, only relenting when he chose a small cliff-side cave for the night. In the morning the wet mixture had hardened into treacherous ice flows which further impeded his ability to make good progress. For as much as the weather had impeded his climb, it was nothing compared to the wild-life. The carnivorous fauna that called Mount Kisoz their home had taken every opportunity to try and make Cloud their next meal; it only took a day or two for them to realize it was a wasted effort. The mercenaries' sword arm was strong and he was not to be overcome. The second night he'd eaten well on a mixture of assorted wild-life offerings.
Now, on the third day, he was just happy that Aerith had decided to take up knitting as a pastime. For all his armor and cloaks, his wife's knitted scarf seemed to keep him the warmest despite its small size. For anyone else the ascent to the summit would have been a fool's errand, but for Cloud, it was just another part of his continuing quest. It was just another part of closing the door on his past.
It was nearing sunset when Cloud finally made it to the appointed place. It was another cliff face close to the true summit of the mountain, an open area which spread out evenly until it eventually ran into a small downward taper. That taper grew drastically until finally the lip fall off to reveal a sheer face. 'It's just like him to pick a place like this'. Despite the harrowing climb Cloud didn't feel the slightest bit of exhaustion, instead, he felt as though he were full of energy. He felt charged to an electric edge. That energy just as quickly turned to anxiety when he finally laid eyes on the object of his latest dogged pursuit.
At the other edge of the snowy clearing, nearer to the sheer face a stoic figure stood which his back turned. Cloud's previous shock turned into instant comprehension, there could be no mistake as to the figure's identity. Clad in what appeared to be some kind of ancient, dark blue armor the unflinching figure had buckled at his side what appeared to be an almost comically long curved sword. The flashing blade of the figure's accoutrement matched the steely silver of his hair.
As Cloud moved closer his crunching footsteps drew the mystery figure's attention. The man swiveled easily, tossing an unconcerned glance over his shoulder before finally turning to face his expected visitor. Cool blue eyes settled on Cloud's own and when the figure spoke, it came in a sound like crushed velvet.
"I've been waiting for you, Cloud."
Despite the freezing conditions and driving snow the mysterious figure showed no signs of discomfort. Cloud, on the other hand, could feel the ice seeping deep into his bones. "It's so good of you to come for our. . . reunion." The man's smile was like something from a nightmare, it contorted his naturally picturesque features into a hollow mockery of satisfaction. "I've been looking forward to this meeting."
For his part the mercenary stood tall. Cloud's fingers easily found the hilt of his Buster sword in a swift, practiced motion. All in one movement the weapon was unholstered and brought to bear, wide edge presented menacingly to his opponent. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Sephiroth." Cloud's voice was even, but tinged with a malicious edge. His eyes told the story, bright blue and burning with a vengeful energy.
The two stood still, sizing each other up as the snow of the peak battered at their armor. It was Cloud who made the first move. Time seemed to slow down as he approached, his mind focused fully on the origin of his unhappiness. His blade swam through the air with a speed that seemed impossible for a weapon of its size. Lightning strikes flowed with a swiftness that belied years of practice, but it was all to be for nought.
Just as quickly and with even more ease the stranger, Sephiroth, maneuvered his blade to deflect each blow in turn. It was no small feat; with elegant precision and a hint of smug satisfaction Sephiroth's thin instrument threw off each mighty blow of the Buster sword in turn. "Come now Cloud, is that really the best you can do?" With a twist of his wrist Sephiroth brought his own weapon, the Masamune, to bear against his opponent. In what seemed like only a second the weapon hummed invisibly, its strikes to quick for the eye to see. Ribbons of blood sprouted from fresh nicks along Cloud's arms and legs, forcing him back.
"Face it Cloud, you're as empty as a puppet. Without me you never would have grown as strong as you are." Masamune hummed again, this time biting even deeper gashes into Cloud's retreating form, forcing him to his knees. "Pathetic. I had hoped by now you'd have become a suitable vessel, but I suppose I'll have to use her after all." This time when the Masamune struck, it screamed for blood. Cloud could feel the cold, unfeeling steel as it entered his body, lifting him from the snow. The blade was turned a bit and he could feel himself moving; soon there was nothing beneath his feet.
In a supernatural feat of strength Sephiroth held his blade over the cliff edge, keeping Cloud impaled upon its length long enough for one final, parting word. "If you survive, then find me again. Hate me with all your heart. Struggle, until you become strong enough to overcome me." Sephiroth let his wrist tilt forward, the tip of the Masamune dipping downwards. With a sickingly wet 'schick', Cloud felt himself slide down the sword and into the white abyss below.
In the days after Cloud's disappearance the usually upbeat bustlings of the Gainsborough household ground to a rather abrupt halt. For Yuffie, it was a strange time. For all her life she'd only known Aerith as a woman of optimism and activity, always widdling away at this or that project. If it was sewing a new pair of socks for Cloud it was tending to a few flowers in the garden. Lately the routine had ground to a dead stop. Aerith had closed the flower shop temporarily and taken to long stints of sitting by the small fireplace. Yuffie knew her friend was trying not to worry, but it was clear after her previous outburst that she was having a difficult time coping with Cloud's absence.
"It's a dangerous job." Leon had said one evening, when the two of them were out of the house. Yuffie had found him sitting out by an old tree in a pasture behind Aerith's house. Leon sat down below with his back resting against the oak's sturdy trunk. Yuffie had taken to one of the lower limbs and was absently kicking her feet when he'd decided to speak. "Working for the organization pays well, but it has its risks. He may not be coming back."
Yuffie had known how treacherous the job could be from the beginning, but deep down she'd forced herself to repress the thoughts. She'd always kept her mind of the mission, running from place to place. As long as she was running she was free, as long as she was running she didn't have to think about the consequences, about not making it back. But now Squall. . . Leon, had said the silent part out loud.
"Cloud's strong, he'll make it back, I know he will." Her words were little more than a whisper, spoken more to reassure herself than anyone else. Leon didn't respond and for about a minute the silence settled between them. Then, finally, "You're drawing yourself in too deep." The words hung for a moment, as Leon rose to his feet. Yuffie could hear the rustle of his clothing as he gathered up the gunblade at his side. "It's too late for Cloud and I, but you could have a future outside this business. Something to think about." And then he was gone, striding back down the lightly beaten path to Aerith's house. Yuffie remained at the tree a moment longer to consider Leon's words. She'd never really thought about leaving the organization, despite the tough times they'd given her. It was hard work, but even with the threat of mysterious assassin's chasing her tail Yuffie doubted she'd be happy if she gave up the adventure that came along with her work. Plopping back down to the ground, she took a moment to dust herself off before making chase, back down the path to Aerith's house.
It was the fourth day after Yuffie had arrived back at Viele Bahnen that news about Cloud finally came. It was sealed in a fine cream envelope and delivered by a spikey haired youth with an oversized instrument. "Demyx is the name!" He'd said in a bright and cheery tone, a welcome site around the increasingly dreary Gainsborough household. The letter had been addressed to Yuffie and sent from a mailer in Kisoz Cliffs.
In silent apprehension Yuffie, Leon, and Aerith gathered around the small kitchen table as Yuffie tore into one side with the sharpened edge of a kunai. The letter inside was written in a beautiful, flowing print; backhanded cursive that was all of illegible to Leon's eyes, but clearly interpretable by his female companions.
'Dear Yuffie,
I'm not sure when this letter will reach you, but I had hoped to write you under better circumstances. I know you've been pestering me about meeting Ms. Aerith and I think now will finally be the time. A few days ago a man went up to the Mount Kisoz summit. Some of the villager's tried to dissuade him but he said he was on a mission. Yesterday one of the villager miners found him unconscious in a snow drift. I've been keeping him here at my house and he's making a good recovery, but he when he first woke up he asked me to send you this letter to let you know where he is. He says his name is Cloud and that he knows you and Ms. Aerith. He isn't well enough to travel yet, so he's asked for the both of you to come in person, if possible.
Best love, Kairi'
Yuffie read the note out loud and by the end a decidedly joyous mood seemed to have filled the household. Leon was his usual dower self, but both Yuffie and Aerith were ecstatic with the news. There was no time wasted in making preparations and by midday the three companions had hit the road to Kisoz Cliffs.
It was a dark meeting room in one of Lasbruck's Organization safehouses. Usually the place was kept under lock and key, reserved only for stowing agents who'd attracted too much attention. Tonight, however, it served the purpose of hosting a secret rendezvous between Organization heads. The various men who inhabited the room wore expressions which ranged from stoic, to apprehensive, to disinterested.
There were four men: One was standing near a small, lit fireplace at the far end of the room, golden eyes staring absently into its consuming flames. A blue haired man with an impressive facial scar sat at a small table, fingers absently flipping through the day's reports. In comfortable arm chair, another silver haired man, albeit this one sporting an unamused grimace and missing an eye. Finally, there was a blonde man with numerous piercings leaning against a side wall who was consumed with the endlessly shuffling of a deck of cards.
The man by the fire, Xemnas, was the first to speak. His voice came out in a low, bass tone that instantly drew the attention of the room's other occupants. "Have we heard anything from our little bird?" His interrogative hung in the air for only a split second as the others deciphered its meaning, then the man with blue hair, Saix, spoke. "No, he's been silent since his arrival at Yemac-til. His reports have stopped coming in, there's a possibility he's been neutralized."
It was then that the one-eyed man, Xigbar, that spoke up. "It's just as well, saves me the trouble of doing it myself. You put someone on traitor-watch and it's only a matter of time before they flip themselves." As he spoke, Xigbar proceeded lazily with the checking of his mysterious weapon. The instrument was pointed and connected to what appeared to be some kind of ammunition magazine. To the casual observer it appeared to be nothing more than a strangely shaped hunk of steel but for the men in the room, those who knew its true function, the lethality of the weapon was never in question.
"Perhaps not. If another pawn has been eliminated it may turn the tides of the game against us. Better to keep as many pieces on the board as possible." This time it was the man shuffling the deck, Luxord. "I hope you know we're quickly running out of aces."
The disagreement between the three men was evident and perhaps the argument would have proceeded further if not for the intervention of their leader. Xemnas spoke again in his baritone. "I agree with Luxord's assessment, losing Axel at this early stage does not bode well. We'll send another. Saix, I leave the selection to you. If Axel has flipped to the other side, then have him eliminated."
At these words Xibgar couldn't help but grin. His palm found the side-bolt on his weapon, forcing it back to chamber a live round. "Well, well, if it isn't finally about to get exciting around here!"