CHAPTER 10: FACING WEAKNESS

Fat flakes of snow lazily drifted through the air as Cloud escorted Tifa home from school. It was only half past eleven in the morning, but Tifa had fallen ill and needed to go home and rest. She had been quiet that morning as they walked to school together and Cloud had suspected something was wrong. Her endless, jovial chatter usually made his heart light enough to withstand whatever school threw at him each day and her silence disturbed him. Tifa had denied anything was amiss every time he asked, but when she excused herself during lessons to be sick outside the school house Cloud knew his intuition had been correct. If anyone knew what it was like to be sick, it was him.

He went to take her hand, but hesitated. It had been over a year since he and Tifa had gotten turned around in the woods and scolded by Mr. Lockhart and Cloud had done his best to stay out of his path ever since. After that incident, Tifa's Papa had forbidden him from holding the girl's hand and Cloud thought it was ridiculous. He was nine years old, for heaven's sake! What was the harm in it? It made the boy so angry, and he didn't quite know why. Cloud mused that maybe he deserved it after failing to bring her home before dark that one time. Despite how unfair it all seemed, he wanted to respect her father's wishes—even if he didn't agree with them. A shaky exhale from Tifa brought his mind back to the present. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her brow and her gaze was unfocused as she trudged along beside him.

"Come on, Tifa. We're almost there," he chose to put his arm around her shoulders instead. Tifa managed to nod and kept her head bowed low as he helped her forward. Her bad habit of leaving home without her coat had finally caused her to fall ill. Numerous times, she had met him to walk to school with one parent or the other on her heels, reprimanding her for going into the winter air without protection. The girl was unsteady on her feet and he noticed how pale her face was behind her maroon scarf. Cloud tightened his grip as he felt Tifa tremble and lean more heavily on him. In the moment, he felt so good to be able to help his friend, even in a small way.

"I've got you, don't worry," he reassured her.

"T-thank you, Cloud," she whispered. He smiled in return.

Winters were always harsh and long in the mountains. Cloud knew winters meant dry, frosty air that made it hard for him to breathe; winters meant constantly battling illness and sleeping near the wood stove with his mother for warmth. Now Tifa had gotten sick as well, and he didn't like that at all. In all the time he had known her Cloud had never known Tifa to get sick, not even a cough or sniffle! It was so unsettling to watch her struggle to stay upright. Whenever he got sick, his mother was always so worried even though he recovered every time. He recalled vague memories of the quiet room where his father had lain unmoving and thought maybe that's why Mom got so frightened. When he was old enough, he wanted to take his mother and move to someplace that was always warm. Maybe then he wouldn't get sick so often and Mom wouldn't always be afraid. After she recovered from her illness, maybe Tifa would want to come, too.

Cloud was relieved by the time he reached the Lockhart house and even more elated when Tifa's mother answered the door instead of her father. He explained what had happened and was thanked profusely by Lia before he returned to school. Cloud worried about his friend for the rest of the day, hoping that she wouldn't be sick for too long. He didn't want her to suffer, and he certainly didn't want to be alone with the bullies at school. He watched the clock with dread growing in his gut. For the first time, he had no protection from the bullies after school. The walk home wasn't a long one, but it was long enough to be caught and tormented. When Ms. Strauss finally dismissed them for the day, Cloud hurried to grab his lunch pail and books and head out the door. Maybe if he was fast enough, the others wouldn't bother him. He only made it ten feet from the school when a teasing voice called out to him.

"Hey! Chocobo-head!"

Cloud froze when he heard Thomas's voice, eyes wide. He hated this so much. If he ran, they'd catch him for sure—there were three of them and only one of him. Instead, he chose to be brave like the heroes and knights in those stories in his books. Slowly, he turned to face the bullies. He hadn't faced them completely before an icy snowball smashed into his face. Cloud cried out—half from surprise and half from pain. Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his thick sweater, he turned to glare at his aggressors as his heart pumped frantically in his chest.

"Ha ha! Got you good!" Jim cawed, holding his sides and laughing. The others quickly surrounded him. Cloud swallowed hard.

"You know, I was going to bring Tifa home," Thomas said. "What makes you think you're the right one to walk her to her house? You're so weak! You couldn't take care of anyone—you can't even take care of yourself!"

Cloud inhaled slowly, blood sliding from a cut on the bridge of his nose where the snowball had hit him. Anger bubbled up inside him. Don't hit anyone. Don't hit anyone. Don't hit anyone.

"Ms. Strauss asked me to," Cloud replied in a careful imitation of tranquility, trying not to show the rising degree of his discomfort.

"Teacher's pet!" Jason tittered. Jim cackled and Thomas moved to grab the collar of Cloud's sweater. The blonde's blue eyes widened as he felt himself being tugged forward, dropping his primer and lunch pail to grasp at Thomas's strong wrist, using all his strength to try to pry himself free. He tugged and squirmed but the older boy was too strong. Cloud gulped and trembled, closing his eyes and trying to prepare himself for whatever came next.

"Who's a teacher's pet?" said a stern voice from behind them.

The bullies balked and Cloud was dropped to the cold cobblestone. Ms. Strauss's frizzy brown hair blew in the wind and her skirts fluttered behind her. Cloud had never been so happy to see his teacher in his life.

"Go on home, now. Leave him alone before I tell your parents!" she scolded.

"Yes, ma'am," Thomas replied, flashing Cloud a scowl before retreating with his friends. Jim made sure to kick Cloud's lunch pail before sprinting off into the village. Cloud noticed his legs were trembling as he tried to get to his feet. Ms. Strauss bent to pick up Cloud's belongings and help him up from the snowy street.

"Are you alright, Cloud?"

"Uh—yes, ma'am. T-thank you, ma'am," he stuttered, embarrassed and flustered. He excused himself and quickly ran, leaving his confused young teacher standing in the street.

Tears stung Cloud's eyes as he ran through town square. It wasn't right—none of it was. He hadn't done anything wrong! All he had ever done was what he'd been asked to do and what he thought was right. He tried to go through life unnoticed and yet trouble always seemed to find him. No matter how hard he tried he would never be good enough, would he? Mom had always said that he was handsome and that she was proud of him. But she was his mother. She had to say that.

The boy reached his little home in mere minutes but couldn't bring himself to go inside. He wiped the cut on his face with the back of his hand, smearing blood across the freckles on the bridge of his nose. The breath hitched in Cloud's throat and he ran around the rear of the house. He threw his belongings on the back step and hastily climbed the pine tree near his mother's garden. Once he was high enough to be hidden by the thick pine branches, he leaned against the trunk. Drawing his knees to his chest, he buried his face against them and wept. The frigid wind that blew from the north constricted Cloud's lungs as he took sobbing, uneven breaths. He pulled his sweater more closely around him for comfort and buried his face in the knit sleeve to keep his tears from freezing his eyelashes shut. Sometimes, he wished that he would disappear. He didn't mean anything to anyone. Yes, his mother loved him. Before, it had always been enough. But something had change inside him and he now he felt empty—so empty and worthless and invisible.

Sure, his teacher had helped him and Mrs. Lockhart was kind, but did they didn't yearn for his presence or seek him out. Aside from his mother, was there anyone who really valued him? Life was so incredibly lonesome. No one knew his heart and that knowledge left him feeling so hollow and unfulfilled. Would anyone miss him if he was gone? Cloud lifted his face just enough to peek above his woolen shirt sleeves to gaze through the branches at the house next door.

Tifa loved his heart, right?

… … …

The hot broth of the potato soup did well to warm the chill in Cloud's bones and chase some of the gloom from his heart. Mom hadn't asked about the fresh scab on his nose or why he had come home so late from school. For that, he was grateful. He had told her about how Tifa had become ill that day and that he had walked her home but mentioned nothing of his bullies. Mom had enough to worry about without being burdened by his inability to get along with his peers. Cloud was sure that if his mother knew how badly the others treated him, she'd be embarrassed! She worked so hard to afford his clothes and shoes and book that he couldn't bear to see disappointment on her face. And so, he kept his misery to himself.

Claudia had finished her soup and rejoined her son at the kitchen table with a heap of fabric in her arms—a dress Cloud had seen her working on that morning. She flipped her long golden hair over her shoulder before she began to stitch the collar of the unfinished garment. The little battery-powered radio above the sink was broadcasting news about the ongoing war in Wutai. Cloud loved to listen to the radio and learn about things from faraway places. It excited him to hear about the how ShinRA's soldiers were fighting gallantly against Wutai's troops. He wasn't sure why there was a war and what they were fighting for—those details didn't matter when there were brave heroes to hear about.

"Oh—Cloud, they're talking about him! The great Sephiroth has done it again," Claudia grinned across the table at her son, who straightened in his chair. She noticed Cloud's spirits seemed to lift a bit when he heard the name of his hero escape her lips.

"Mom, he's so amazing! At school, I heard that he took on a whole battalion on his own," Cloud gushed.

"Is that so? He must be very strong," she mused as she studied the way Cloud's eyes shined as he spoke of the soldier. Violence and war weren't subjects that Claudia thought were good material for conversation with her nine year old, but there were few other things besides Sephiroth's heroism that made the boy smile like that.

"He is the strongest man in the army! No one can do what he does," the boy said, unable to hide a small smile as he stirred his soup with his spoon.

Cloud knew all about Sephiroth. He was no ordinary infantryman, but a member of ShinRA's elite SOLDIER program which composed of a small group of super soldiers of varying classes. According to his classmates, these men had superhuman strength, speed and senses—the best of the best! And Sephiroth was the strongest amongst those in the SOLDIER program. Naturally, he ranked first class. Wouldn't it be amazing to be a hero like that? Cloud doubted that Sephiroth ever worried about bullies or got his lunch stolen from him.

Mother and son listened through the static as the news went on to describe victory after victory on the battlefront.

… … …

Cloud shivered underneath his blanket. His mother had put a hot brick under the sheets at the foot of his bed to warm his feet, but it wasn't doing as much as he hoped it would. The boy sighed and drew the comforter around his shoulder and stepped out of bed—he'd have to spend another night in front of the wood stove. Cloud paused before heading to the stairs and looked towards the window. Was Tifa alright? She had seemed awful sick and Cloud was worried. On his windowsill, the jingle bell glinted in the moonlight. The window opened easily with a soft jerk of his wrists.

He tugged gently once, twice, three times and waited with his head leaning out into the frosty air. The snow was still gently falling, settling on his eyelashes as he watched for movement from Tifa's window. Her lamp was out and the room was dark, but still Cloud waited. Long minutes stretched by and he finally decided to close his window and give up. It was the first time she didn't answer when he rang and it left him feeling terribly lonesome. The blonde quietly headed down the stairs, dragging his comforter along. He curled next to his mother who had made a makeshift bed next to the woodstove in the kitchen.

Tifa would probably be too sick to go to school tomorrow, he knew. Without her by his side, the bullies would do their best to make him miserable and he was already exhausted just thinking about how to avoid them. Cloud felt selfish and rotten when he thought of not going to school since his mother worked so hard to get him there. But it would be nice to stay out of sight until his companion was feeling better. If he was strong and brave, he wouldn't be in this predicament. If he was as tough as Sephiroth, the others would leave him alone—maybe even want him around!

He had been thinking of what it might take to be a hero when he grew up. Cloud had asked his mother about the army and she said he would need a paper stating that he finished his studies—a diploma. If he was diligent and studied hard he could pass his final exams, earn his diploma and join the army if he wished. Cloud drew in a deep breath: he'd have to be brave tomorrow.