Chapter Nine - Lost in the Whirlwind
Tifa stood at the precipice of the crater, the Lifestream churning violently below in a maelstrom of ethereal energy. An unnatural spiral of black clouds overhead seemed to pulse with malevolent intent, drawn inexorably towards the gaping wound deep in the Planet's surface.
Scarlet eyes drifted to Cloud, who gazed into the abyss with a distant, hollowed expression. The glow of his Mako-infused irises had dimmed, as if a part of him was lost in the swirling depths along with the Lifestream and its screaming memories. Tifa's heart clenched, remembering how vulnerable he had been last night, clinging to her like a lifeline as the weight of his fractured identity threatened to crush him. For a fleeting moment, the walls he had erected around himself crumbled, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the real Cloud—the boy she had grown up with under the starlit skies of Nibelheim, the boy who promised her safety and care under that same earnest glow.
But as swiftly as that moment of raw honesty had manifested, it vanished with the first light of dawn. Cloud retreated once more behind his stoic facade, his shoulders squared and jaw set in grim determination, the delusions that propped up his existence in the face of unspeakable truths returning with a harrowing mask. Yet Tifa could see the cracks in his armor—the way his chest rose and fell with strained breaths, the slight tremor in his gloved hands as they gripped the hilt of his sword - and it served to remind her of how broken everything was.
Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to stolen moments of tenderness—the brush of Cloud's lips against hers as they huddled together on the gondola at the Gold Saucer, the solid warmth of his body pressed close in the frigid air of Holzoff's cabin. The way he held her beneath gilded, silk-brushed sheets, the tremble of his muscles promising her the world even as her memory faded somewhere behind in Gongaga's green depths. In those rare instances, the weight of everything they shared hung between them, heavy with unspoken emotions and the bittersweet ache of missed opportunities that now she chased with teeth grit and fists furled.
The wind carried whispers of decay as Tifa's boots sank into ash-soft earth. Below them, the crater yawned wide, its edges crumbling like burnt paper. The Lifestream coiled beneath in emerald spirals—not the gentle glow from childhood stories, but something rabid, thrashing against invisible chains. Above, the sky had been stitched shut with storm clouds that pulsed like a fresh bruise. She could taste the mako sharpness coating her tongue, bitter as regret.
Her own memories were fragmented, lost to the haze of amnesia that clouded her past. Each recollection she managed to grasp felt like a hard-won victory against the encroaching darkness in her mind. But even as she struggled to piece together the shattered remnants of her own identity, Tifa couldn't help but feel that the key to unlocking the truth lay entwined with Cloud's own fractured psyche.
Cloud stood half a breath ahead, back rigid beneath the weight of his sword. His hair caught the sickly light, strands bleached ghostly where they brushed his neck. She remembered how those same strands had felt between her fingers two nights ago—damp with melted snow, clinging to her palms as he'd pressed his forehead into the hollow between her collarbones. A raw, wordless sound had escaped him then, something torn from deeper than bone. Now his silence was absolute.
She watched him now, silhouetted against the eerie luminescence of the Lifestream, and her heart ached with a longing she couldn't quite define. Tifa took a tentative step forward, her boots crunching on the rocky ground.
"Cloud..." she whispered, her voice nearly lost amidst the howling winds that whipped through the crater.
"We have to keep moving."
Cloud's voice cut clean through her chatter. Not the ragged edge he'd carried since Nibelheim's flames, nor the hollow monotone that sometimes swallowed him whole. This was colder. Smoothed. Like steel resting against a whetstone.
Tifa's gloves groaned as she flexed her hands. The phantom weight of his ribs beneath her palms lingered—how he'd shuddered when she traced the scar tissue spiderwebbing his back in Holzoff's cabin. The firelight had painted them both in molten hues that night, every hitched breath from Cloud echoing louder than the blizzard outside. By dawn, he'd rebuilt the walls mortar-quick, slipping into his armor of clipped responses and thousand-yard stares.
Cloud's eyes remained fixed on the chaotic dance of the Lifestream below, as if mesmerized by its haunting beauty. Tifa's fingers twitched at her sides, yearning to reach out and anchor him to reality, to let him know that she was here—that she would always be here, no matter how lost he became.
But the chasm between them felt insurmountable, a yawning void of unspoken truths and buried secrets. As much as Tifa longed to bridge that gap, to offer Cloud the comfort and understanding he so desperately needed, she feared that her own brokenness would only drag him further into the abyss.
So she stood beside him in silence, their shoulders barely brushing as they faced the impending darkness together. And as the Lifestream's eerie glow cast haunting shadows across their faces, Tifa prayed that somehow, someway, they would find the strength to confront the demons that lurked within and emerge unscathed on the other side.
Barret's gruff voice shattered the fragile silence. "This whole place smells like a damn death trap," he grumbled, his gun-arm whirring as he scanned the crater's edge for hidden threats. "Ain't no way we're gettin' outta here without a fight."
Nanaki crouched low to the ground, his keen senses attuned to the Planet's anguished cries. "The Planet is screaming," he murmured, his tail swishing anxiously behind him. "The wounds inflicted upon it run deep, and the Lifestream writhes in agony."
Tifa glanced over her shoulder, her gaze settling on Vincent's stoic form. The enigmatic man stood apart from the others, his crimson eyes narrowed as he surveyed the unnatural landscape. "Whatever force awaits us," he warned, his voice a low rumble, "it is warping fate itself. We must tread carefully."
Yuffie huddled close to Cait Sith, her usual bravado replaced by a palpable sense of unease. "Guys, I don't like this," she whimpered, her fingers clutching the robotic cat's arm. "It feels like something really bad is about to happen."
Despite the growing sense of dread that permeated the air, Cloud barely reacted to his companions' warnings. His voice remained eerily calm as he took a determined step forward. "We keep moving," he declared again, his eyes still locked on the distant horizon.
The others exchanged hesitant glances, their faces etched with worry and uncertainty. But as Cloud pressed onward, his resolve unwavering, they had no choice but to follow. Tifa fell into step behind him, her heart heavy with the weight of her own fears and doubts.
With each step, Tifa felt the chasm between her and Cloud growing wider, his essence slipping further away. She longed to reach out, to tether him to the present and remind him of the unbreakable bond they shared. But the words caught in her throat, suffocated by the fear that even her love might not be enough to save him from the darkness that threatened to consume him.
With a sudden burst, mako erupted in a geyser, tendrils whipping like enraged serpents. The blast lifted her off her feet. For three heartbeats she flew—hair lashing her cheeks, Yuffie's shriek shredding into Cait Sith's mechanical wail. The impact drove the world white. Jagged stone bit through her gloves as she skidded, every joint screaming. She felt herself lifted off her feet, her body hurtling through the air as the ground trembled beneath the onslaught. Pain lanced through her as she hit the rocky surface, her vision blurring at the edges as she struggled to catch her breath.
Tifa blinked, trying to clear the spots that danced before her eyes. The air had thickened, heavy with an unnatural presence that pressed down upon them like a suffocating blanket. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, her muscles screaming in protest as she scanned the area for her companions.
Her gaze landed on Cloud, his form crumpled a short distance away. Muscles strained and bled from gaping wounds that caught the angry, starlit sky. Fear seized her heart, and Tifa stumbled to her feet, ignoring the agony that radiated through her body. She half-ran, half-crawled to his side, her hand reaching out to grasp his arm.
"Cloud," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "Cloud, look at me."
His eyes met hers, but they were distant, unfocused. Tifa tightened her grip on his arm, trying to anchor him to the present. "We're here to fight Sephiroth, remember? I'm right here with you, Cloud. I won't let you face this alone."
Cloud remained silent, his expression unreadable. Tifa's worry intensified, her mind racing with the possibilities of what horrors Sephiroth might be subjecting him to in the depths of his fractured psyche. He flinched at her words, his body tensing under her touch. For a moment, Tifa thought he might pull away, but instead, he closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as if in pain. Cloud leaned into her touch, his eyes searching hers. For a fleeting instant, Tifa saw a glimmer of the man she knew, the man she loved, before the shadows of doubt crept back in. Gravel scored her palms as she scrambled forward. The air hummed, pressing against her eardrums like diving too deep.
He didn't flinch when she grabbed his bicep. Up close, the cracks showed—tremors beneath his skin, a vein pulsing wild at his temple. The scent of ozone clung to him, sharp and chemical.
Crimson light pulsed ahead, silhouetting jagged spires. Tifa's ribs throbbed in time. Each step chipped at memories: The precise tilt of his head when pretending not to watch her mix drinks from the corner of his eyes. Holding her tight against his body while her tears burned his sweater, face lit gold by the Sector 5 lamplight of Aerith's garden. How he'd mouthedsorryagainst her collarbone at Holzoff's cabin, fingers mapping vertebrae like counting prayer beads.
"You're shaking." Her thumb found the tiny mole above his elbow, a beauty mark she recognized from summer sunshine in Nibelheim, that had grown with every ligament and limb over the years. Real. Anchoring.
His exhale fogged faintly green in the misty northern air. "We need to go."
Reluctantly, Barret stepped forward, his gruff voice cutting through the tension. "Let me take the Black Materia, Cloud," he offered, extending his hand. "I promised I'd help carry this load back in the Forgotten City. Let me keep that promise."
Cloud's gaze darted between Barret and Tifa, uncertainty etched into his features. Tifa nodded encouragingly, her eyes never leaving Cloud's face. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the howling wind. "We're in this together."
With a shaky breath, Cloud reached into his pocket and retrieved the Black Materia. The orb seemed to absorb the light around it, its surface pulsing with an ominous energy. As he placed it in Barret's outstretched hand, a pained expression crossed his face, as if the act of relinquishing the Materia had torn away a piece of his soul.
Barret's fingers closed around the orb, his jaw clenching as the Materia's power burned against his skin. He met Cloud's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew the weight of the responsibility they now shared.
As Cloud turned away, his shoulders hunched against the bitter cold, Tifa felt a wave of despair wash over her. She watched him take a step towards the glowing center of the crater, his form silhouetted against the eerie light. Each step seemed to carry him further from her, from the life they had once shared.
Memories flooded Tifa's mind—a starlit night under the water tower, a stolen kiss amidst the chaos of the Gold Saucer, a whispered promise of a future together. Those moments, once so vibrant and alive, now felt like fading echoes, drowned out by the relentless march of fate.
But even as her heart ached, Tifa refused to lose hope. She had fought too hard, sacrificed too much, to let Cloud slip away. She would chase him to the ends of the earth if she had to, battling through the darkness that threatened to consume him.
As she watched Cloud's figure disappear into the swirling mists, the planet gawped shouts quaking the ashen earth, Tifa made a silent vow. She would bring him back, even if it meant descending into the very depths of hell itself.
For in the end, for her - he was the only thing that mattered, the only thing worth fighting for.
Cloud's mind reeled as he pressed forward, each step a battle against the warring voices within. A frightened, shy little boy trapped inside, crying out against the insistent bravado of a SOLDIER who had never actually made it. Sephiroth's influence clawed at the edges of this broken consciousness, a sinister whisper that promised power and purpose. Yet, beneath the siren call of the SOLDIER persona, Cloud's true self struggled to surface, clinging desperately to the fragments of his past.
Memories flashed through his mind like shattered glass, each shard a glimpse of the life he had once known. Tifa's gentle smile, the warmth of her embrace, the unspoken promise of a future together—these images danced amidst the chaos, taunting him with their fragility.
But even as he grasped at these fleeting moments of clarity, the fractures in his psyche deepened. The guilt and confusion over Aerith, the crushing weight of his own inadequacy, the insidious doubt that he was nothing more than a puppet—these dark thoughts swirled within him, threatening to consume what little remained of his true self.
"You are nothing," Sephiroth's voice echoed in his mind, a cold, cruel whisper that seeped into the very marrow of his bones. "A mere pawn in a game beyond your comprehension."
Cloud's steps faltered, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the insidious influence. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I am more than that. I am Cloud Strife, SOLDIER First Class."
But even as the words left his lips and drifted into the cold tendrils above, he could feel the hollowness behind them, the fragile facade crumbling under the weight of his own doubts. The SOLDIER persona, once a source of strength and purpose, now felt like a suffocating mask, a lie he had told himself for so long that he could no longer discern the truth.
Reality reassembled in migraine strobes. Cloud staggered, sword pommel grinding against what might've been rock or frozen screams. Tifa's palms pressed his breastbone, her breath coming in visible hitches.
"Others... gone." She craned her neck, crimson-lit irises darting across impossible geography. "How...?"
He knew. Felt it in the Jenova cells rejoicing along his marrow. This close to Sephiroth's cradle, the Planet's rules dissolved. Only willpower shaped reality now—and his mind was such fertile soil for nightmares.
Tifa,he murmured, her name a desperate prayer amidst the tempest of his thoughts.I'm sorry. I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not the hero you deserve.
The internal admission tore at his heart, a searing pain that eclipsed even the physical agony of his wounds. He had failed her, failed them all, and now he was nothing more than a broken shell, a shadow of the man he had once pretended to be.
As Cloud pressed onward, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his own despair, he could feel Sephiroth's presence growing stronger, the tendrils of his influence tightening their grip on his fractured mind. The battle within him raged on, a silent war between the man he had once been and the monster he feared he would become.
Yet, even in the depths of his anguish, a single spark of hope remained—a fleeting glimmer of light amidst the darkness. Tifa's love, the memory of their shared past, the promise of a future he had once dared to dream of—these were the things he clung to, the fragile threads that tethered him to his humanity.
As he stepped into the swirling mists, Cloud knew that the path ahead would be a crucible, a test of his very soul. But for the sake of those he loved, for the chance to be the man he had always yearned to be, he would face the darkness within himself and fight with every last ounce of his strength.
Cloud felt the ground beneath his feet give way, his body plummeting through a vortex of swirling energy. The voices in his head grew louder, clashing against each other like discordant notes in a twisted symphony. Images flashed before his eyes—memories of a life he had never lived, of a man he had never been, of lives lost that he'd thought he'd saved - they intertwined with the shattered fragments of his own reality.
As the world distorted around them, Tifa reached out, her fingers grasping for Cloud's hand, desperate to anchor him to the present. But the forces that pulled at them were too strong, and she felt herself being torn away, her voice lost in the maelstrom of light and sound.
When the chaos subsided, they found themselves in a realm of fiery colors and shifting shadows, the rest of their companions nowhere to be seen. Tifa's eyes searched for Cloud, her heart constricting as she saw him standing motionless, his gaze fixed upon the swirling abyss before them.
"Cloud..." she whispered, her voice barely audible above the thrumming of the distorted reality. "Please, come back to me."
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the void, shattering the silence like a hammer against glass. Sephiroth stepped forward, his silver hair cascading down his back, a smirk playing across his lips. Tifa immediately moved in front of Cloud, her fists clenched, ready to defend him with every fiber of her being.
But Cloud, as if drawn by an invisible force, stepped around her, his eyes locked with Sephiroth's. Tifa's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the two men, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy in the air. She could see the war raging within Cloud, his fractured mind screaming, tearing him apart from the inside.
"You've done well, Cloud," Sephiroth said, his voice a razor's edge. "But it's time to stop pretending."
Cloud's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his features. The world twisted once more, and suddenly they were standing in the streets of Nibelheim, the village untouched by the flames that had once consumed it. Tifa's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the scene before them—a memory from five years ago, a turning point in their lives.
As they watched, Sephiroth entered the village, flanked by two Shinra grunts. But instead of Cloud, the SOLDIER who walked beside them was a man with black hair, his features achingly familiar. Zack Fair, Cloud's friend and mentor, strode into Nibelheim, his presence a jarring contradiction to the memories Tifa held dear.
Cloud's eyes widened, his lips parting in a silent gasp. The sights before him made little sense, betraying the trembling and frayed edges of memories he held on to that said so much. Tifa could feel the tremors that ran through his body, the foundations of his identity crumbling beneath the weight of Sephiroth's illusion. She reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm, a desperate attempt to tether him to reality.
"This isn't real, Cloud," she whispered, her voice quivering. "It's just another one of Sephiroth's tricks. Don't let him get inside your head."
But even as the words left her lips, Cloud could see the doubt that clouded her eyes, the unspoken questions that hung between them. What if Sephiroth was right? What if the memories they had clung to, the stories they had told themselves, were nothing more than a fragile web of lies?
Did Tifa know?
The illusion shifted once more, and they found themselves standing on the mountain bridge, its wooden planks creaking beneath their feet as rain battered and stained the earth and skies. Tifa's breath caught in her throat as she watched the scene unfold, a twisted mirror of the past they had both endured.
The bridge swayed and groaned, its ropes straining against the weight of the figures who traversed its length. And then, with a sickening crack, the wood gave way, sending splinters flying through the air like shrapnel. Cloud's eyes widened as he watched Zack leap forward, his hand outstretched, grasping for the grunt who teetered on the edge of oblivion.
But it was the other figure that drew his gaze, the one who tumbled into the abyss below, his body limp and unresisting. Even from a distance, she recognized the shock of blond hair, the Shinra infantryman uniform that had haunted her dreams for so long.
"Cloud..." Tifa breathed beside him, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cloud stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the scene that played out before them. His mind was at war, rage tearing a battle between the fractured pieces of his mind. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides, as if he could will the illusion to bend to his own memories.
"This isn't how it happened," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "I was there. I remember..."
But even as he spoke the words, he could hear the uncertainty that lurked beneath them, the seeds of doubt that Sephiroth had so carefully sown. He tried to ignore it, feeling as reached for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, a silent reminder of the bond they shared, one that was slipping through their fingers.
"Cloud, listen to me," she said softly, her eyes searching his face. Crimson orbs that reminded him of precious jewels sparkled against the Lifestream's angry greens. "No matter what Sephiroth shows us, no matter what lies he tries to feed you, I know who you are. I know the man you've become, the hero you've always been."
Cloud's gaze flickered to hers, and for a moment, he felt his resolve strengthen, felt his soul soften by her belief. But Sephiroth's mocking laughter echoed behind them, silver wisps like raindrops taunting his window floating along the wind. Inside, the boy that knew Tifa, loved her for all those years, recoiled behind the SOLDIER whose expression hardened in doubt and fear, his eyes turning back to the illusion that taunted them.
"I... I don't know what to believe anymore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I was... it's all falling apart."
"Then we'll find the truth together," she said, her voice steady and strong. "We'll keep fighting, keep searching, until we uncover the answers we both need. And no matter what happens, Cloud... I'll be right here with you, every step of the way."
Cloud's fingers tightened around hers, a silent acknowledgment of the strength she offered. But inside, his mind continued to lose the battle to doubt and the whispers of a silver-haired demon, his heart beating its way out of his chest.
As the illusion dissipated, Cloud found himself staring at his own reflection in the still waters of the river. His face, once a mask of determined resolve, now seemed fractured and uncertain. Sephiroth's words echoed in his mind, each syllable a shard of ice piercing his already fragile sense of self.
"You see, Cloud," Sephiroth purred, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down Cloud's spine. "You were never the hero of this story. Merely a puppet, dancing on strings woven from stolen memories and falsehoods. Failures that day, just like your failure on the altar."
Cloud's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The blood that had formed around Aerith's wound pooled his vision. He wanted to scream, to deny the truth that lay before him, but the words died in his throat. How could he refute what his own eyes had shown him?
Tifa's hand on his shoulder was a lifeline, a tether to the reality he so desperately wanted to cling to. "Cloud, don't listen to him," she pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. "Remember our promise, under the stars that night? Remember how you helped me find my own lost memories?"
Cloud's gaze met hers, searching for the certainty he so desperately craved. But even as he looked into those warm, familiar eyes, he could see the flicker of doubt that lurked beneath the surface.
Sephiroth's laughter cut through the air like a knife. "Ah, but even your dear Tifa hesitates to defend you, Cloud. Can you truly blame her? After all, who would want to put their faith in a mere facsimile of a man?"
Tifa flinched as if struck, her hand falling away from Cloud's shoulder. Cloud felt the loss of her touch like a physical ache, a hollowness that spread through his chest and left him feeling utterly alone.
"Tifa..." he whispered, his voice breaking on the syllables of her name. But even as he reached for her, Sephiroth's voice cut through the air once more.
"Let me show you, Cloud, what truly lies in Tifa's heart."
The world around them shifted and blurred, colors bleeding together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. And as the new illusion took shape, Cloud felt his heart sink with dread, knowing that whatever lay ahead could only bring more pain and uncertainty.
Cloud turned to Tifa, his heart overflowing with a tumultuous mix of love and desperation. Her hesitation cut through him like a blade, mingling with the fractured thoughts of his true self and his crumbling soldier persona. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes as he spoke, his voice raw with emotion.
"Why are you so scared? Don't worry about me. I'm all right," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. "No matter how confused I am, I'll never believe a word that Sephiroth says. It's true that sometimes I can't figure out who I am. There's a lot of things muddled up in my memories. But, Tifa... you said, 'Long time no see, Cloud' right? Those words will always support me. I am the one you grew up with. I'm Cloud of Nibelheim. No matter how much I lose faith in myself, that is the truth. That's why you shouldn't be so scared. No matter what anyone else says to me, it's your opinion that counts..."
Cloud's chest heaved with the weight of his confession, his feelings colliding between the inadequacy and failure he felt deep inside and the desire to uphold the fracturing of his ideal self in the soldier persona. He searched Tifa's face, desperately seeking a glimmer of the unwavering faith she had always shown in him.
But Tifa remained silent, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she struggled to find the words to refute Sephiroth's lies. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken fears and doubts, and Cloud felt himself crumbling under the weight of her hesitation.
"A first-class SOLDIER would've protected everyone," Sephiroth went on, the black leather of his gloves shimmering against the moonlight and the North's snowy tears. Cloud's pupils swallowed blue irises as the words floated over him. "Not let the whole town burn."
The vision changed again. Furnace winds. Mom's scream. Tifa's own voice, raw from smoke as she screamed her father's name.
Her hand on his shoulder fell away as he crumbled, his hands finding his skull and crushing. Her voice was distant, serene, but floating away from him, abandoning him alone with the discordant confusion of the people inside of him.
Suddenly, the scene shifted once more, and they found themselves inside the deepest cavern. Rufus, Hojo, and Shinra soldiers arrived, their presence a stark reminder of the forces that sought to control and manipulate them. Blue walls of ice rose up on every side of the cavern, caging them inside a frozen hell his mind nor his body could escape. The others finally reappeared, restrained by Shinra's forces, powerless to intervene as Hojo's laughter echoed off the rock walls, his amusement at Cloud's turmoil a twisted mockery of the young man's pain.
Sephiroth's taunts grew more vicious, each word a barbed arrow aimed at Cloud's fragile sense of self. He painted a picture of Cloud as nothing more than a failed experiment, a puppet dancing on strings held by unseen masters. And as Tifa wept, unable to challenge Sephiroth's lies, Cloud felt the last remnants of his identity slipping away, lost in the maelstrom of his fractured memories and the cruel machinations of those who sought to control him.
It was Hojo's satisfied laughter, though, that told Cloud all he needed to know.
The air tasted like burned ozone and crushed granite. Tifa's palms stung where she'd skinned them catching herself during the latest tremor, but the pain felt distant compared to the jagged edges of Cloud's smile. That smile—all wrong, like porcelain stretched over cracking ice—didn't reach the mako glow burning behind his eyes.
For three seconds, everything held. Then Cloud turned, and Tifa saw the boy who'd promised her loyalty and the very moon in the sky. The man who'd held her tight through Midgar's ruins. The ghost who'd kissed her under the Gold Saucer's false stars and shivered in her embrace while his ego flatlined.
His thumb brushed the apple of her cheek, calloused and warm.
Cloud's expression softened, the weight of his own brokenness etched into the lines of his face. He turned to Tifa, his hand trembling as he cupped her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers in a gesture of intimate despair. A single tear slipped from his eye, tracing a path down his cheek as he whispered, "Tifa... I'm sorry. You've been so good to me. You deserve so much better. I hope... I hope one day you get to meet the real Cloud."
His lips brushed against her forehead in a tender kiss, a final act of love and apology. Then, with a voice that seemed to come from a place far away, he demanded the Black Materia from Barret. The larger man hesitated, his eyes darting between Cloud and Tifa, before reluctantly handing over the gleaming orb.
Tifa screamed, her voice raw with anguish as she reached for Cloud, desperate to pull him back from the brink. But he didn't even look at her, his gaze fixed on the Black Materia in his hand, as if it held the answers to the questions that haunted him. He moved like a man in a trance, each step taking him closer to the edge of the abyss.
Her scream tangled with the Black Materia's keening wail. Lifestream tendrils lashed upward, coiling around Sephiroth's crystalline prison in a grotesque mockery of veins. She lunged, fingertips grazing frayed belt straps, before the floor buckled violently.
For one suspended moment, she saw him whole—spikes of blond hair catching the emerald hellglow, lips shaping words lost in the maelstrom. Then the chasm yawned, swallowing him whole along with the last echoes of Nibelheim's boy.
Rubber soles squealed against shifting stone. Barret's arm hooked around her ribs. "Move, sister! Whole damn mountain's—"
The sentence drowned in an earth-rending shriek as the first Weapon erupted—a colossus of obsidian scales and molten joints. Shinra troops scattered like ash flakes, Rufus barking orders from the Highwind's open bay. Tifa ran blind, the taste of Cloud's apology still salt-bitter on her lips.
Her boot caught an exposed root. Time bent—Sky tilting. Ground rising. Then nothing but white silence.
Cloud stood before Sephiroth's crystal, his eyes locked on the figure within. "Sephiroth... So we finally meet again," he said, his voice eerily calm, a stark contrast to the chaos that raged within him. With a steady hand, he slipped the Black Materia into the crystal, watching as it pulsed with an unholy light.
Purple, black, and red energy surged from the crystal, engulfing the cavern in a maelstrom of power. The ground shook beneath their feet, and the air crackled with an electric charge. Sephiroth's form began to shift, his features twisting into a grotesque mockery of the man he had once been.
As Sephiroth awakened, the crater erupted, the Lifestream tearing through the ground in a violent upheaval. Tifa watched in horror as the world around them unraveled, the very fabric of reality straining under the weight of Sephiroth's malevolent presence. And at the center of it all stood Cloud, his eyes vacant, his soul lost to the machinations of a madman.
Tifa's heart shattered, the pieces scattering like the shards of the crystal that had once held Sephiroth. She had failed him, failed to be the anchor he needed in the tempest of his own mind. And now, as the world crumbled around them, she could only watch as the man she loved was consumed by the darkness, a puppet dancing on the strings of a twisted fate.
Tifa lunged forward, her fingers stretching out to grasp Cloud's arm as the chasm widened between them. For a fleeting moment, her skin brushed against his, a whisper of a touch that held a lifetime of unspoken emotions. But it was too late. Cloud's face, once a canvas of conflicting emotions, now stood vacant, his eyes hollow and unseeing. And then, he was gone, swallowed by the abyss that had opened up beneath their feet.
The ground convulsed, the tremors intensifying with each passing second. Deep within the bowels of the Planet, the WEAPONS stirred, their ancient forms awakening from their slumber. With a deafening roar, they burst forth from the crater, their colossal bodies tearing through the earth and sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
Chaos erupted as everyone scrambled for safety, their screams lost amidst the thunderous cacophony of the WEAPONS' emergence. Tifa found herself swept up in the tide of panic, her feet pounding against the ground as she ran alongside Barret and the others. In the distance, she caught a glimpse of Rufus and the Shinra personnel, their faces etched with a mixture of awe and terror as they fled towards the Highwind, the massive airship looming like a beacon of hope amidst the destruction.
As they neared the Highwind, Tifa's vision began to blur, the edges of her consciousness fraying like a tattered cloth. She stumbled, her body betraying her as exhaustion and grief took their toll. The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was the ground rushing up to meet her, and then... nothing.
Tifa finds herself adrift in a sea of white, the world around her a blank canvas devoid of form or substance. It is a place she had visited before, a realm that exists between the boundaries of dreams and reality. The air hums with a gentle energy, and she can feel the warm caress of the Lifestream against her skin, its tendrils wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.
In this ethereal space, Tifa's mind wanders, her thoughts drifting like leaves on the surface of a still pond. Memories of Cloud flood her consciousness, each one a bittersweet reminder of the bond they shared. She sees him as he had been in their childhood, his eyes bright with innocence and his smile untainted by the weight of the world. She sees him as he was now, a broken man struggling to piece together the fragments of his shattered identity.
Tears stream down Tifa's face, each one a silent prayer for the boy she had loved and the man she had lost. In the depths of her heart, she clings to the hope that somewhere, buried beneath the layers of manipulation and deceit, the real Cloud still exists. And she knows, with a certainty that defied logic, that she will stop at nothing to bring him back, to save him from the darkness that threatened to consume him.
The white dreamworld dissolves, giving way to a familiar scene that tugs at the corners of Tifa's memory. Her boots meet solid ground where there should've been none. Neon letters smear across her vision: SECTOR 7 STATION. The memory unfolds wrong, edges bubbling like film left too close to flame. There he is, sweat and steel stench overwhelming the Mako-tinged air. The Sector 7 station materializes around her, the air thick with the scent of exhaust and the distant echo of trains. Her heart skips a beat as she sees him, a figure crumpled on the ground, his blond hair matted with dirt and sweat.
Tifa rushes to Cloud's side, her hands trembling as she cradles his head in her lap. His eyes flutter open, glowing with the telltale signs of mako infusion. At that moment, she sees a flicker of recognition, a spark of the boy she had once known. But it is fleeting, replaced by a vacant stare that sent a chill down her spine.
"Cloud," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "It's me, Tifa. I'm here."
He blinks slowly, as if trying to process her words. "Tifa?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the din of the station.
She nods, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes, it's me. It's… it's been so long."
Awareness floods him, eyes softening, eerie glowing mako blue fading behind the cerulean of childhood. Her heart stutters, cheeks warm with youthful memories of water towers and stars. She takes his hand in hers, helping him to his feet, and he leans against her, a warm, welcoming smile pulling lightly at pained features. So long they have been separated, but the spark in the air when they touch reminds her that this reunion must be ordained by fate.
The scene shifts, the station fading into the warm glow of Seventh Heaven. Tifa finds herself in her bar, Cloud seated at the counter, his eyes fixed on a mug of steaming liquid she's prepared. She approaches him, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor.
"Hey," she greets gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
Cloud looks up at her, his expression distant. "I... I don't know. Everything's a blur."
Tifa sits beside him, her heart aching at the confusion etched on his face. "It's okay. We'll figure it out together."
They talk, their words punctuated by long stretches of silence. Tifa listens as Cloud recounts fragments of memories, his brow furrowed in concentration. She notices the inconsistencies, the gaps in his recollection, but she doesn't press him. Instead, she offers words of encouragement, her touch a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone.
"Thank you for helping me earlier," she comments lightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "With carrying those crates of liquor. I don't know what I would have done without you."
A flicker of a smirk, stoic and smug, crosses Cloud's face. "No biggie," he quips.
Tifa nods, her heart swelling with gratitude. "You were a big help, Cloud. And it got me thinking... maybe you could work as a mercenary, taking on jobs to help people. You've got the skills, and I know you've got the heart for it."
Cloud looks at her, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You think so?"
"I know so," Tifa said, her voice firm with conviction. "And I'll be here to help you, every step of the way. We can take on jobs together, watch each other's backs."
A faint smile tugs at the corners of Cloud's mouth, the first genuine expression of emotion she had seen from him since their reunion. "I'd like that," he said softly.
As the dream begins to fade, Tifa holds onto that moment, the warmth of Cloud's hand in hers, the flicker of hope in his eyes. She knows the road ahead would be long and treacherous, but with each step, each shared memory, she would guide him back to the light. Back to the man she knew he could be.
.
.
.
The dream shifts, colors swirling and blending until a new scene materialized before Tifa's eyes. She finds herself lying in a bed, the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. Beside her, Cloud lay asleep, his features peaceful and untroubled.
Moonlight lacquers the curve of Cloud's spine. Tifa counts the scars intersecting his shoulder blade—four parallel lines, faded silver—while his breathing deepens into sleep rhythms. Her fingertip hovers above the longest mark, close enough to feel body heat radiating from damaged skin.
Tifa watches him, her heart aching with a mixture of love and uncertainty. In the quiet stillness of the moment, she can't help but wonder about their relationship, about the unspoken feelings that lingered between them. Before she could stop herself, the words slip from her lips in a whisper.
"Do you love me, Cloud?"
Suddenly, Cloud stirs, his eyes fluttering open. Tifa freezes, realizing he had been awake all along. Panic grips her, and she quickly tries to cover her tracks. "I mean... do you love Marlene?"
Cloud looked at her quizzically, his blue eyes searching her face. After a moment, he nodded. "Of course I do. I just... I don't always know how to talk to her, you know?"
Tifa feels a wave of relief wash over her, but it is short-lived. As she looks into Cloud's eyes, she realizes that she is no longer observing the dream from the outside. She is living it from Cloud's perspective, seeing through his eyes, feeling his emotions.
And in that moment, she knows the truth. Cloud had heard her original question, had understood the real meaning behind her words. She can feel his love for her, a deep, unwavering affection that he struggled to express. He knew he loved her, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, tangled up in the scars of his past.
Tifa reached out, her hand cupping his cheek. "It's okay," she murmurs. "I understand."
.
.
.
The dream shifts once more, and Tifa finds herself standing in a sunlit room, her hands resting on the swell of her pregnant belly. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she felt the warmth of Cloud's breath on her neck as he places a tender kiss on her cheek.
Warmth pools low in her abdomen, insistent as a ticking clock. Cloud's palms bracket the swell beneath her navel, his chin hooked over her shoulder. They watch sunset bleed through fractured stained glass, casting rubied light across a cold, concrete city.
"Ginger tea," he murmurs against her earlobe. "For the nausea."
"Since when do you read pregnancy books?"
"Since you started sleeping through breakfast." His lips graze the hinge of her jaw. "Priorities change."
In that moment, Tifa sees a glimpse of their future, a vision of the life they could have together. A life filled with love, with laughter, with the warmth of a family. It is a future that seemed so close, yet still just out of reach.
"This doesn't scare you?"
Cloud's arms constrict briefly—a human vice. "Different kind of mission."
Laughter bubbles up, sharp with unshed tears. "No save points."
"Don't need 'em." His hand slides upward to cradle the curve where life quickens beneath skin. "Got the best backup already."
As the dream begins to fade, Tifa clings to that image, holding it close to her heart. She knows that the path ahead is fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she also knows that she will fight for that future with every fiber of her being. For Cloud, for their unborn child, for the love that burned bright within her soul.
No matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter how dark the shadows grew, Tifa will never stop believing in the power of their connection. She would be Cloud's guiding light, his anchor in the storm, until they could finally find their way home to each other.
.
.
.
The sting of antiseptic yanked Tifa into consciousness. Her eyes snapped open, the remnants of her dreams still clinging to the edges of her consciousness. She blinked against the harsh fluorescent light that flooded the room, her vision slowly adjusting to her surroundings. The cold, hard surface beneath her reminded her that she was far from the warmth and comfort of her dreams.
Barret's gruff voice broke through the silence. "You're finally awake. Been out for a week, Tifa."
She pushed herself up, her body aching from the prolonged stillness. Tifa's mind reeled as she tried to piece together the events that had led them here. The crater, Sephiroth's taunting words, Cloud's broken expression as he handed over the Black Materia—it all came rushing back in a dizzying torrent of memories.
Tifa's gaze drifted to the small window in their cell, her heart heavy with the weight of their predicament. As she approached the glass, her breath caught in her throat. There, hanging ominously in the sky, was a sight that chilled her to the core.
Meteor.
The massive, flaming rock loomed above the planet, a testament to Sephiroth's twisted ambitions. It was a harbinger of destruction, a countdown to the end of all things. Tifa felt a wave of despair wash over her, threatening to drag her under.
But as she pressed her palm against the cool glass, her mind drifted back to the dreams that had sustained her during her unconscious state. The tender moments with Cloud, the promise of a future together—they were more than just figments of her imagination. They were a reminder of what she was fighting for, of the love that bound them together even in the darkest of times.
Tifa's resolve hardened, her jaw set with determination. She turned to face Barret, ready to plan their next move, when the sudden sound of the cell door opening shattered the quiet.
The door hissed open on pneumatic hinges. Rufus Shinra stepped inside, his pristine white suit a stark contrast to the dingy surroundings. A smirk played across his lips, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and disdain.
"Miss Lockhart!" His smile could frost the Corel desert. "How kind of you to rejoin our narrative."
Tifa's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her muscles coiled with tension. She met Rufus's gaze head-on, refusing to be cowed by his presence.
"What do you want, Rufus?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her.
Rufus chuckled, the sound devoid of any genuine mirth. "Straight to the point, I see. Very well, then. Best not delay the inevitable."
Tifa stared, the smugness radiating off of him like gamma rays. Her eyes narrowed as he continued to belabor the matter with his faulty smirk, approaching her, his fingers tracing the cold steel of her gurney.
Rufus paused beside the cot, examining rumpled sheets with detached curiosity."Notice the craftsmanship," he quipped, admiring Meteor's silhouette through the window. "Sephiroth always did have an artistic flair. Pity about the collateral damage."
He turns, sunlight glinting off the shotgun's gold filigree and the white threads of his coat. "But every catastrophe needs scapegoats. Your execution broadcast should buy considerable public goodwill."
"Execution?" Tifa repeats as Barret slams his disarmed gun-arm into the windowsill.
"Hojo's latest reports suggest Sephiroth has accelerated the planetary decay beyond even his projections. Estimates give us seventy-two hours until critical failure."
Tifa's knees remembered buckling under collapsing plateaus. "Your point?"
He turned, ice-blue eyes reflecting Meteor's bloody glow. "My board members prefer extinction to admit they backed the wrong deity. I find myself in need of heretics."
The weight of Rufus's words settled like a stone in Tifa's stomach, but she didn't flinch. Not as Barret cursed under his breath, not as Meteor's crimson glow bled through the tiny window, not even as the guards behind Rufus reached for their weapons.
Her heart pounded, but her mind was sharp.
Her fingers flexed at her sides, aching for the hilt of her gloves, the weight of a fight. Not yet.
Tifa met Rufus's gaze head-on, searching for the lie in his cold, calculating stare—and finding none. This wasn't a game. He meant it.
Tifa exhaled slowly, pushing down the fear clawing at her throat.
They had faced impossible odds before. They had fought gods, ghosts, and the weight of fate itself.
And now, with the world crumbling around them, she would do it again.
Tifa set her jaw, lifting her chin as she took a single step forward.
"Then I guess you better find yourself some heretics," she said, her voice steady, steel-edged.
Because she would not die in this cell.
Not while Cloud was still out there, lost in the abyss.
Not while there was still time to bring him back.