2 June 1990
Sharp pain coursed through the side of his head. His ears rang with the sounds of boots stomping against the hard tile, and, as he managed to sit up, he heard the shouting.
"Go, go, go—move! MOVE!"
The blond opened his eyes and, through blurry vision, he saw his fellow infantrymen rushing to a pile of duffel bags on the floor. He wobbled to his feet and ran along with them, grunting when he was shoved back. He tried to push his way between two boys and was shoved back again; this time he hit the back of his head against the floor with a loud pop. The blond whimpered loudly in pain as his vision blurred, but, out of desperation, he pushed himself up and back onto his feet, making one last effort to get through the crowd.
After a moment of frantic searching, he finally got his bag and scurried back to his bunk, still unable to see straight. He sat down and closed his eyes, groaning in pain under his breath.
"Bag drill is over! Let's move!" he heard the drill sergeant yell.
Cloud let his bag go and rubbed the back of his head as he opened his eyes and followed the rest of the recruits out and into the training room. He automatically walked to his assigned spot and awaited instructions, even though he knew by now what was coming next.
"Drop and give me two hundred! All of you!"
Cloud first knelt, then got into position and started his push-ups. By the time he reached thirty, his arms were burning and he was huffing for breath, once again reminding him how grossly out of shape he was. He wheezed his way up to 128 before his arms gave out.
The drill sergeant kicked Cloud sharply, making him yelp and get back up. He felt sweat dripping down his face and arms, and his hands threatened to slip and slide against the inside of his gloves.
When he finally went down and up for the two hundredth time, he felt faint and just about ready to pass out. He licked his lips to moisturize them and panted heavily. His arms and legs shook as he stood up, his body threatening to topple over and leave him in a dehydrated, sweaty heap on the floor.
But the best part had yet to begin.
If Cloud had any water left in him, he'd have cried when it came time to run laps in the field outside. Nobody was allowed to stop or even slow down. It was not his first day doing these exercises, by any means, but no matter how optimistic he tried to be, it just never got any easier.
He couldn't take it anymore. He fell again, too exhausted to even grunt when the sharp pebbles dug into his skin. He vomited and coughed weakly as he struggled to remain conscious while the hot sun burned his sensitive, pale skin. He laid there for what felt like forever until the whistle blew and he and the others were officially allowed to stop.
He wasn't entirely conscious when he somehow picked himself back up, but he did notice that more than half of the recruits were also eating dirt. The fact that he wasn't alone didn't make him feel much better; he was too tired, miserable, and parched to feel anything but shitty.
The blond trudged back inside with the rest, and when he received his water rations for the morning, he guzzled a good three quarters of the entire thing in one go.
His stomach felt like it was going to pop. He burped and groaned, feeling faint and nauseous as he waited for the water to settle in his stomach.
For the hundredth time that week, he wondered if any of this was worth it. He'd never felt so much pain and exhaustion happening all at once, not even when Kadaj and his brothers ganged up on him to fight him all at once.
But it was too late to go home. He was stuck here for at least the next four years, no matter how badly he wanted to leave...unless he were to be discharged.
He sniffed and tried to control his breathing. No, no, he worked too hard to get this far. Besides, trying to sabotage his chances was probably more trouble than it was worth.
Cloud looked over to the other boys. Some of them couldn't even be called boys – some were huge, nearly a foot taller than Cloud. Many had some form of facial hair, though none had more than stubble due to appearance regulations.
There was so much diversity here, Cloud had to try his hardest to not stare. In Nibelheim, what few children were there had slightly tanned but still very pale skin and either black or brown hair. Midgar, however, had so many more people, and with so many different shades of skin and hair color.
One of the bigger recruits met his gaze and glared. "You got something you want to say to me?"
"No," Cloud mumbled.
The hulking beast of a man – the blond refused to believe he was anywhere close to his age – sauntered over to Cloud. He grinned down at the blond and said casually, "Speak up. I can't hear you."
"I have nothing to say to you," Cloud said, averting his gaze out of habit. The tension made him anxious and reminded him too much of a certain other person.
"I think you do have something to say to me. I want to hear it."
"It's nothing," Cloud insisted. He tried to walk away.
He froze when the other recruit grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly.
"I want to hear it," he repeated.
Cloud pulled away, gritting his teeth when the other man refused to let go. He looked up from the corner of his eye and saw the other recruits staring at the both of them.
His arm was squeezed harder. Cloud held his breath to avoid making a pained noise. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end a little.
"You tell me right now, or I'll take it out of you."
Confused and frustrated, Cloud tried to think of something to say.
He clearly didn't think fast enough. His reflexes acted on his behalf and made him duck to avoid the swing from the other recruit, and he yanked himself out of the iron grip before jumping away afterwards.
Adrenaline pumped through his entire body, and he struggled to calm down as memories played through his head. The other recruit looked at him with disbelief.
Panting, Cloud backed away and followed the group out as they were ordered to return outside for more drills.
His body and mind were exhausted that night, but he couldn't find it in him to pass out. He was still tense, both from the training and from the fights. He swore he could still feel eyes on him, even as he laid there in his bed and heard the soft breathing and occasional snoring coming from the other recruits.
His arms, legs, and back were in agony. He couldn't think, but he couldn't stop thinking.
Everyone in his group must have hated him. He had no idea why, but he was convinced. It was a repeat of Nibelheim, this time with copious amounts of physical training on top of it.
In spite of everything, it was his heart that hurt the most. He shuddered in pain and discomfort as his memories of Sephiroth put him to sleep.
Started: 2016年12月20日（火）
Finished: 2017年1月15日（日）
Uploaded: 2017年1月20日（火）
Hi. Unfortunately, I'm still alive.
That's it, that's all I have to contribute.
Next chapter: either a time skip or something from Sephiroth's point of view, since Cloud's experiences will get very repetitive very quickly.
PS: Rewrite, yay or nay? This fic has just reached its fourth birthday as I upload this...