Update: Wake

[sunnepho]

So I've got a job as a cake decorator of all things now. It's actually kind of fun, being paid to draw shit on cakes with icing. I like making cat cakes. And cherry blossom scenes. And I swear I'm going to sneak in some video game stuff at some point. (I'm already done a Pacman cake, but that's more pop culture by this point.) This is temporary, though, and will finance my desire to be a medical lab technologist.



Part 3. Those wings

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are property of Square Enix. No profit is being sought from the writing of this fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

I couldn't avoid canon progression for much longer without it getting ridiculous on me.

First, though, I apologize. I didn't have access to a beta for this until next chapter, so any and all screw ups up to and including this point are all my fault. Endless fighting is good and well in game, but not so exciting in text form. There will be room to breathe next time.

--

In the right light, at exactly the right angle, materia became translucent.

Normally, it captured the light that struck it inside the sphere, bouncing the photons back and forth, up and down, within the curve of its shell until it looked opaque, lit by an inner glow.

Cloud flicked his wrist, tossing the command materia up again.

At the apex of its flight, it hung, just for a moment, at the precise location, and sunlight lanced it. Light shot through, shattered beams of yellow that sprayed outward, banding the ground beside Cloud's head with its patterns of interference. The pattern shifted as it began its drop, and a ray scathed over Cloud's eyes. He flinched, but he didn't blink, and suddenly the light was gone, just before the materia tumbled into Cloud's hand, solid colour in a solid ball.

He tipped his palm, letting it roll into his fingers, and he snapped it back up into the air.

Flash.

Click. Swish.

Flash.

Cloud blinked, and he lowered his empty hand. He propped himself up onto his elbows and tilted his head back to see a wall of black.

Angeal nested the materia between two fingers, and he raised up his arm. He squinted as he peered up at the bright orb against the bright sky.

"You can see through it if you hold it up right," Angeal said.

"Yeah."

"Simpler than throwing it."

Cloud shrugged. He pulled himself to his feet, dragging a hand through his hair to dislodge bits of grass that spun as they tumbled to the ground.

"Soldier Third Class Hoffe left this morning."

Cloud frowned. "Did he ask for me?" He tugged the strap that held his sword's harness to his back, and it tightened with an obliging creak.

"No."

"Right."

Angeal lowered the materia, and he looked at Cloud, rolling the little ball around his fingers. "Cloud, you're turning into a recluse."

"Hey, if I go down there, they'll make me shovel chocobo shit or something. I swear the higher ups in the Regs have it in for me." He turned fully to face Angeal, and he grinned. "What, do I look like a recluse to you?"

"You look like an immature child who's experiencing loss for the first time."

In the silence, Cloud looked away.

When Angeal sighed, Cloud dipped his head, and the side of his mouth tugged. "When did you turn into my shrink?" he said. "Sir," he added.

Angeal snorted. "When I got saddled with a troublesome pupil like you." The First snapped his knuckles against the side of Cloud's head and dropped the materia into Cloud's hand in the same movement. "Come on," he said while Cloud fumbled with the sphere, "I haven't been training you enough lately if you've gotten mouthy on me."

--

Angeal's sword clashed against his and scraped up a shower of sparks when Cloud turned his wrist to deflect the pressure. As the First's sword dragged down his blade, Cloud ducked down and used the friction to shove himself into a pivot. He dug his heel into the dirt as he twisted, disengaging to swing his sword up and aiming his slash at Angeal's flank, where the Buster sword didn't cover his back.

He barely saw the movement before Angeal blocked him, broadsword angled over his shoulder and forcing through the progression to shove Cloud's strike off and to the side.

Cloud brought his sword up quickly to catch Angeal's down blow, and he felt his boots lift just a bit off the ground at the power behind the strike. He leaped backward, bringing his weapon into a two-handed guard as he recovered his balance.

When Angeal lunged, his blade a diagonal fissure of light, Cloud launched himself up into the air, corkscrewing to face Angeal's back. The First swung around, bringing his sword up.

No foothold in midair. He couldn't dodge. Cloud braced his weapon on the back of his fist, and he juggled it rapidly to block the quick succession of strikes. He threw the last blow upwards, pushing Angeal back a step and giving himself enough propulsion to flip back and away.

Cloud pushed off his back leg as soon as he landed, darting forward and feinting left. He dropped the tip of his sword when Angeal raised his weapon to block, weaved under, and smacked it against the flat of Angeal's blade. He switched hands, aiming for the brief hole in Angeal's guard, and he grinned.

Angeal's fist drove into his stomach a split second before the First bent his arm, brought up his forearm to catch him under the chin, and wacked Cloud flying across the training ground.

Cloud's breath rushed out of his lungs when he landed on his back, and he wheezed, ignoring the coolness of metal at his throat.

He scowled up at Angeal.

"Giving up?" Angeal said.

Cloud swiped out with his leg at the First's knee. It missed, but at the same time, he knocked Angeal's wrist upward with a fist and swung his weapon in a whistling arc, bashing aside Angeal's sword just enough for him to throw himself into a roll.

He came up into a crouch, and felt at his neck with his free hand. No bleeding. Good.

"Give up?" he rasped. He cleared his throat. "Funny."

Angeal laughed, adjusting the Buster sword on his back before raising his broadsword and stepping back into his stance.

Cloud caught a flash of movement in the corner of his vision.

Catlike green eyes, slits constricted against the bright artificial lighting, met his.

Sephiroth turned away, his long coat flapping out for a moment with his passage.

Angeal sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair, his blade dipping to rest against his boot. "It's alright," he said quietly, "he's been there for a while."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it." Angeal inspected the edge of the broadsword in his hands before slotting it back onto the weapons rack, under the tarp stretched out on heavy poles.

Cloud waited, watching Angeal stretch out his shoulders and roll his neck to the side. "Couldn't the General have wanted to talk to you?" he said.

Angeal paused in his cool down and looked at him.

"No," he said finally. "Probably not."

Cloud shook his head. "Did something happen?" he persisted.

"Cloud, focus."

"Does it have something to do with the mass desertion the Director mentioned before we were sent here?"

Angeal hopped the fence around the training area, and he waved a gloved hand over his shoulder. "Nothing that concerns you."

"Angeal!"

The First stopped, framed by the darkness outside the corralled field, where the lamplight didn't reach. "It's almost over, Cloud," he said softly. "Mission tomorrow night."

The forest engulfed him.

--

"Strife!"

Cloud missed his landing. He'd been doing his morning calisthenics, launching his torso up off the ground and clapping his hands under his chest before catching himself. He thumped to the ground, twisting sharply so that it was his shoulder and not his face that made contact with the dirt. Grit forced its way under his tongue.

Travers snickered. "Jumpy, aren't you?"

Cloud rolled onto his back and glared. "That was deliberate, wasn't it, asstard?"

Travers flapped a lazy hand as he turned and glanced over the bivouac. Cloud rocked himself onto his shoulder blades and used the momentum of the swing to hop to his feet. He scuffed his boots over the ground absently as he walked, and he hung his arms over the rough wood of the fence, standing beside Travers. Personnel had been rushing around since early that morning, some distributing supplies, others running messages or rounding up manpower, shouting themselves red in the face.

Cloud could pick out the insignia on the belts of Soldiers easily. He frowned. "I heard about the desertion."

"Yeah," Travers said. He picked at a nail, flicking bits of gunk out toward the commotion down below. He shrugged a shoulder. "I asked around. There are only ten Second Class operatives on this front. Both of the Firsts are here with us."

Cloud blinked slowly, tracing the path of an officer, jowly chin jiggling as he stomped, with his eyes. "Asked around?"

Travers turned, and he watched Cloud. "What would you do," he said abruptly, "if Angeal left?"

Cloud whipped his head around, and his neck howled at the abuse. "What the fuck are you trying to say?" he snapped.

"The Firsts are heroes because of this war. It's hard to be sure who Soldiers are loyal to, the company or the people in it, until they have to make a choice."

"Are you calling Angeal a traitor?"

Travers stared. Finally, he tsked and jabbed Cloud in the arm with an elbow as he turned back to face the camp. "Forget it. You and your one-track mind wouldn't get what us adults talk about."

"Angeal values honour above everything else!" Cloud said hotly.

Travers didn't turn again, but Cloud saw his mouth twist drily. "Why do you think we're fighting this war, Strife?" he said.

Cloud eyed the Second suspiciously. "Wutai destroyed the reactor that the company was building."

Travers gave a muffled snort, and it turned into a gasping hyena laugh. He bent over and clutched at his belly.

"What?" Cloud demanded.

"Nothing, Strife," Travers said between wheezes. He swiped his thumbs over the corners of his eyes, and he waved his hand. "Forget about it."

Cloud hissed out his breath from between his teeth, and he turned around to lean his back against the fence. He tilted his head up to look at the cloudless sky. His voice flat, he said, "I get why people don't agree with what Shinra's doing. There's a reactor in Nibelheim and a lot more dead fish in the river now. We used to export natural materia, but then almost all of the springs dried up, and now we mainly export people. Everyone works for Shinra, you know." He raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the sun as he squinted. "All the kids leave."

Travers hummed.

"But we're the ones who decided to be here," Cloud said to the sky.

"Heard you're flying solo, tonight," Travers said, after a few seconds.

Cloud shifted, his shoulder blades scratching at the wood. "You know about it?"

"No shit," Travers said, gesturing at the activity down around the tents. "It's the big one."

"You're on this one, too?"

"Yeah," Travers grinned at him. "The General is taking Evans and me and the rest of us, and we're gonna go around and hit their centre of power hard while you and Angeal blitz the fort. We'll finish Wutai tonight."

There was a bird wheeling slowly, black against the sky, high above. It soared, its wings stretched flat and still. "Watch yourself," Cloud said.

"Yeah."

--

Cloud hacked down across the collar of the last Wutai private, shearing the long firearm he held in guard into two clean halves. The man crumpled.

"Ha!" Cloud swung his sword, spattering the body with fat drops of blood as he flicked it clean before tossing it into a sharp spin and sheathing it.

Angeal grunted behind him. "Quit goofing off and get over here."

Cloud stepped over the bodies and hunkered down beside Angeal, where he was crouching behind a boulder.

"Be a little more discreet, would you?"

Cloud fiddled with the thick leather of his gloves, checked the growth of his new materia, and he grinned. "So what's our attack plan? Should we split up? I could probably take these guys with a hand tied behind my back."

Angeal made an odd noise, a bit like a choked laugh. "Glad to see you've recovered your enthusiasm. You're going to need it. You're going in on your own."

"Huh?"

"You're on combat support tonight. I'll head directly to the centre of the fort to set the bombs."

Cloud felt his mouth fall open as he stared at Angeal. Slowly, it turned into a smile, and he nodded tightly. "Right. I can handle it."

"You'd better be able to," Angeal said, peering off into the darkness. "I recommended you for First."

When Cloud's hands fell slack and he didn't respond, Angeal turned his head and scowled.

"What are you acting so surprised for?"

Cloud opened his mouth. He closed it again.

Angeal turned his head away so that Cloud couldn't see his face, but his cheek pulsed like it was held still with great effort. He reached out, pressed a palm against Cloud's head, and shoved him away. "Well, I put in the nomination to Lazard yesterday. Don't make me regret it."

Cloud ducked his head out from under Angeal's hand. He looked up at the First, and then he smiled. "Yes sir!"

Cloud leaned his forearms against the rock, tipping forward to look up and down the trail. There was a tingle in his arm, like something had reached into his skin and twanged the nerves underneath. He winced, and he glanced to his side.

He made a strangled croak.

Bright blue eyes met his, the gentle swirl of mako haze in the iris. The man smiled crookedly, and Cloud glanced down to see where the man's arm, resting against the same stone, vanished where it touched his skin. The shape wavered, like the reflection of the moon in a pool of water that Cloud had stuck his hand into.

"Zack?" he said, just a whisper of sound. His eyes felt scratchy, like ants were crawling over his eyeballs and plucking out his hairs.

"What's that?" Angeal's voice was loud in his ear.

Cloud jerked, and the image was gone. He blinked rapidly.

"Are you alright?" Angeal said as he rested a hand on the curve of Cloud's pauldron.

Cloud's back tensed at the solid touch, and he turned to look at Angeal. "Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Thought I saw something."

"Someone named Zack?"

Cloud frowned, something stinging at the back of his palate. "I don't know anyone called Zack."

Angeal eyed him for a moment, and Cloud raised his hands.

"It's nothing, really."

"Hmm," Angeal said, turning back to the path. "You're not moping anymore, at least."

"I wasn't moping," Cloud said, settling further back on his haunches. "Just... thinking."

"And what did you decide?"

Cloud looked up at the darkened trees. Their leaves were waxy, reflecting silver in the moonlight, and the slow flicker of fireflies lit their undersides. The beetles were invisible when not luminescent, and so their disjointed paths jumped from patch to patch as they glowed and vanished in turn.

"I'm going to protect them," he said. "Every one." A breeze flapped at the leaves over their heads, making them judder loudly, but Cloud didn't bother raising his voice.

"Oh?" Angeal said, his voice mild. "You have no subordinates on this mission."

"Then I'll just have to protect you."

Angeal laughed. He stood up, planted a hand on the boulder, and propelled himself over it to land in the centre of the path. "Let's move." His footsteps crunched rhythmically over the gravel, implacably even.

A trio of ninjas dropped out of the branches overhead and tapped down with soft thumps behind him. They vacillated a moment, spun their weapons around until their lances pointed toward Angeal, and they lunged forward.

Angeal waved a hand briefly over his shoulder as he continued walking.

Cloud ripped his sword from its sheath and launched himself up, ignoring the deep groove he'd scored into the stone in passing.

He plunged onto the first private's back, bearing down with his knees and bringing up his sword. The blade bit into ninja's neck, knocking off his helmet and severing his spine. Spinning around and kicking up a shower of dust with the side of his boot, he thrust his sword through another private's gut when the man recoiled, an arm over his face.

The last ninja, a captain by his armour, stabbed toward his head with his lance, and Cloud twisted his sword, yanking it free as he ducked and pivoted. A quick swing, and the sergeant's weapon snapped. Cloud brought his arm up and around, and the man's head bounced once, clanking, as it hit the ground.

When he caught up to Angeal, the First was standing still in a small clearing, looking up at the pinpricks of stars above Mount Tamblin.

Cloud jogged to a halt. He looked at Angeal's back, and he turned his head up toward the sky.

"Embrace your dreams," Angeal said quietly.

"Angeal?"

Angeal glanced at him, and he shook his head, making a short dismissive noise. "Just talking to myself."

The First stepped forward, pushing past a tangle of low-hanging branches, and then the squat shape of Fort Tamblin sat quietly in the dark before them. Light spilled from several of the low windows, and aside from the flicker of torchlight, the fort was still. An expectant tension seemed to boil from the flattened ground, and Cloud's knuckles cracked when he tightened his fists.

He'd set up a snare once, outside a hare burrow on Mount Nibel, further up than the kids were allowed to wander. He remembered the strings of blood-rusted pelt hanging from the hare's foot. He'd stood still, staring up into sulfur-yellow eyes until the dragon had flicked its barbed tail and turned away, its awkward gait making it sway wide as it walked.

He closed his eyes, and he relaxed his fingers.

He kept his head low as he darted forward.

Angeal shifted, resting on a knee, and he reached over his shoulder. The Buster sword cut a gap in the sky, outlined in faded blue. He stilled, the grooves ornamenting the blade casting hazy shadows over its plane and reflecting a nebulous meshwork of light over the bridge of his nose. Angeal clasped his fingers against the dull edge before bringing the sword up to rest against his forehead. His fingers curved backward as they tensed, and quickly loosened again.

Cloud watched, waiting, until the First hooked the Buster back onto its hasp with a fluid chk.

"I've never seen you use that sword," he said.

"If I use it, it'll get dirty, worn, and rusted," Angeal said. He shook his head. "That would be a waste."

"Isn't it heavy, to carry it around like that?"

Angeal looked at him, a twist on his lips. "Worry about your mission, not me." He tilted his head up at the fortress. "Keep it stealthy. I'd rather not have the entire regiment stationed here rushing around looking for us until we're ready to blow this place sky high. Take down all enemy troops you encounter."

Cloud glanced at the dull gleam of the Buster sword briefly before nodding sharply. "Sir!"

"Mission start!"

--

Cloud sprang up, tucking his arms tight for speed. He kicked out a leg, slamming a boot against a tree trunk and using the recoil to spring up toward the fort's thick walls. Amongst the rustling of leaves shed to the ground, he dropped, bending his knees and catching his hands against the stone floor as he landed lightly.

There was a quick shout, and the tap of running footsteps as Wutai troops approached to inspect the noise. Cloud hopped a short fence at his back and pressed flat into the shadows. Breathing softly through parted lips, he darted off against the wall.

They were in an austere courtyard, the tall gates of the main stronghold overlooking the empty grounds and several covered corridors lining the outer wall. There was a Wutai private nearby, clenching his gun-lance tightly as he stared up at the walls.

Cloud reached out and clamped a hand over the man's mouth as he yanked him backwards and thrust his sword under the man's ribcage up to the hilt. He let the ninja sag off his blade to the ground, and he dragged the body behind an ornate pillar. Cloud moved on.

The next Wutai private gasped just as Cloud swung his sword through the man's neck, and the ninja beside him whirled around directly into Cloud's downward cleave. His blade bit diagonally into the man's collar, severing his spine. Someone saw him, and he raised his sword to block a flurry of bullets before launching himself into a roll and coming up behind the ninja. Dingy light flashed over his blade as he ripped it around, and he jumped again, dragging his legs high to avoid the jab of a long lance. Grabbing the shaft with one hand, he brought his sword down as he landed, and the wood splintered in his grip. Flipping the short stalk still attached to the lance head to shift his grip, he raised his arm and slung it as hard as he could toward the sergeant readying his firearm. It sank into the man's chest until the shaft was nearly swallowed.

The last ninja shot at him from the middle of the courtyard, and Cloud ducked behind a chipped pillar, shrapnel and stone dust fogging the air briefly. Readying his sword, he cleared the low rail of the corridor in a hop and kicked off it to throw himself upward. He came down blade first, driving the point through the ninja's throat and into the ground as the man toppled backwards. He heard the cracks of gunfire, and wrenching his sword free, he rolled, bullets raising plumes of dust where his head had been. Cloud scrambled to his feet as he dashed for cover.

The gates were outlined by moonlight when Cloud peered out from a dark crevice. He saw a couple of helmeted forms crouched over their long guns over the heavy doors. The heads turned, quick little shifts, as they scanned the open space. Keeping his back to the wall, Cloud followed the rough stone. When he saw the narrow staircase winding upwards, he grinned.

Cloud flattened himself at the top of the stairs, slithering forward on his elbows and surveying the guards with narrowed eyes. He unchambered his Pre-empt, slid it into his pouch, and withdrew another smooth sphere. He slotted the materia into his bracer with a soft click, and he raised his hand.

He felt the drain of energy into the orb and cupped his other palm to shield the glow.

There was a series of sharp snapping noises, like the cracking of a thin frozen sheet, and jagged shards of ice magic collected over the snipers before driving downward, piercing through their helmets with short, brittle rasps.

"Out-ninja the fucking ninja," he muttered to himself.

--

Cloud slapped down a Wutai private's weapon, using the momentum to swing his sword around into a backhanded grip. He leaped forward as he brought his hand up and around, and a line of blood speckled the walls. Ragged lines began to trickle down, bleeding splotches into the flimsy material. He left the ninja where he fell and stepped forward. The floor was lined with some sort of dry woven mat that depressed with crinkly noises under his boots, and he glanced at the translucent paper walls with a frown. They were lit by a warm glow, probably the oil lamps he'd been seeing in some of the corridors.

He heard a clamour and the drum of footsteps in the distance behind him. Reaching out, he pushed at the dark wooden frame to his side.

It didn't move.

"Balls."

He tried another segment, and it slithered smoothly aside. He slipped in through the gap and the door frame whispered as he slid it shut behind him.

Cloud glanced around. Living quarters, he realized. Whoever decorated the place had been heavy handed with the hanging draperies. A low writing table was littered with rolled up papers. He pressed himself flat against a wooden partition, the edges of its slats digging into his back, and he listened as ninja thumped by the room.

He waited a while longer before crossing the room and reaching out for the sliding door.

There was a quiet noise behind him.

Cloud spun around, pulling his sword free from its sheath as he turned.

It was a small woman. She held a hanging lamp in one hand and the other was fisted tightly in the front of her loose robe. She stared at him, her scrutiny drifting from his eyes-the mako glow, he realized-to his broadsword. She inched backward, her mouth opening, but there was no sound.

There was an inquisitive noise from the low door at her back, and Cloud barely saw the man before he'd wrenched the woman behind him and stood, baring his teeth and fumbling for the sword at his waist. He snapped something imperious, the curt sounds of a challenge that Cloud didn't understand, and he pointed the sword at Cloud.

Cloud pressed his mouth tight, and he narrowed his eyes.

His wife said something shrilly, but the man shook his head. He raised his sword and yelled as he charged.

Cloud twisted his wrist and blocked the strike. The ninja's sword rattled against his. He stepped into the clash, holding his broadsword with one hand and pushing off to the side as he raised his other. He grabbed the back of the man's head and shoved downward as he brought up his knee. There was a loud, slippery crunching noise, and the man grunted as he staggered back, blood welling around his fingers and dripping onto his clothes from where he covered his nose.

The Wutai soldier snarled, placing his bloody hand back onto the hilt of his sword and settling into his stance.

He was fast. The man dashed forward, slashing his sword from the side. Cloud brought his weapon up, intending to block, but there was a harsh ripping sound before the long blade caught on the door frame and ground to a crawl against the wood.

Cloud let his knees buckle, and he sagged under the whistle of the ninja's sword. His grip was tight around the hilt of his sword, and he yanked as he fell. His broadsword dragged free and drove forward. The ninja dodged to the side, hopping back and twisting his body. With a vicious bellow, the man pivoted and thrust his sword forward as he rushed Cloud.

Cloud propelled himself awkwardly to his feet, and he reeled a bit as he raised a boot and pounded it against the side of the writing table. It flew, knocking into the ninja's shins with a solid crack. Cloud slapped the flat of his blade against the man's sword with a jarring clang, creating enough of a gap for him to lean in and shove his broadsword through the man's gut.

Cloud stared at the man's face, where dried patches of blood from his nose had crusted along his chin, painting a flaking residue. The ninja's sword dropped to the ground with a clatter.

Cloud stepped back, the ninja's limp weight straining at his grip. He looked up to where the woman stood. Her mouth worked, opening wide soundlessly. She swayed as she took a slow step.

He saw the sleek casing of the gun under her whitened knuckles a moment before she raised it in her arms and screamed and screamed.

Bullets ripped the paper walls to shreds as Cloud flung himself into the fragile material, the wooden frame splintering loudly as he crashed through. He rolled, coming to a halt only when he thumped against the opposite wall. He crawled to his feet and backed away, covering his mouth against the veil of rock dust raised by the barrage driving into the outer wall.

She was still screaming.

Cloud fingered the hard curve of materia in his pouch for a moment, and then he dropped his hand to his side. There were jumbled shouts and thudding steps coming down the corridor. He sheathed his sword and darted off along the hall, the roar of noise still behind him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

--

Cloud stopped in front of an open doorway framed by a heavy stone arch. He paused, turned an ear to the side, and he drew his sword, stepping into the blind spot to the side of the door.

A Wutai sergeant dashed through the arch, followed by two privates. They reached a junction in the corridors, and the sergeant raised a hand, peering carefully around the corner. He barked an order. When there was no response, he growled and turned around, just as Cloud stepped into his two-handed swing.

Cloud was wiping the congealing blood from his blade across the ninja's clothes when there was a sharp buzzing. He jerked, and he flipped open his PHS.

"Angeal?" Cloud said.

"I've finished setting the charges." There was a bit of static. "Come to the central area." Angeal paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was clear and dry. "Feel free to cause a riot."

Cloud grimaced. "I wasn't that bad."

"I noticed," Angeal said. "They still don't have a description of you beyond something about a demon. Good work."

"How do you know?"

"We're tapped into their radio system," Angeal said. "Anything to report?" he continued.

Cloud was quiet for a moment. He swallowed. "Nope, not a problem here," he said.

Angeal snorted. "Alright. I'll be waiting."

The line went dead.

Cloud stashed the PHS in his pocket as he stepped out into open air. He looked up at the ornamented doors of a central building, and specks of spray from the fountains tapped against his exposed skin.

When the voice cut through the muted chatter of water, he dropped into a crouch and raised a hand to his sword.

"First, a people weak in the pursuit of knowledge."

Cloud glanced around.

"Second, those protecting the Wutai homeland."

Cloud saw the girl, and he straightened, his arm falling.

"Third, an ugly Shinra Soldier!"

She took the steps in a wild leap, and she ran as if momentum was the only thing keeping her standing. She slapped her hands on her hips as she stopped in front of him, thrusting her chest out. Her knees looked bulbous against her thin legs, and a wide scrape oozed a film of dusty blood on her right shin.

"Prepare for your punishment!" she announced shrilly. "I'm Wutai's strongest warrior! With me here, you shall not advance any further!"

Cloud frowned, staring until she shifted her shoulders like they prickled. "You shouldn't be here, kid."

Her eyes went moon round. "You're the one who doesn't belong!"

"Look, I'm serious. We're about to blow the sh-blow this fort up. You should go home." He pointed at her leg. "Are you hurt? Can you escape alright by yourself?"

She glanced down before biting her lip and pursing her mouth up at him. "They said that someone killed the Dajiang in his room, and then they pushed me in here and told me to hide and I fell."

"The Dajiang is the guy in charge around here?"

She stopped in mid-nod, and her face contorted into a scowl. "I'm not telling you anything, Shinra scum! You're not blowing this fort up because I'm going to defeat you here and stop your progress!" She thumped her fists against Cloud's belt. "Take that!"

Cloud sighed. "Kid-"

The girl raised her fists again, and he caught a flash of metal between her knuckles. He snapped his hand up and closed his fingers tightly around her wrist.

She bit off a sharp cry as something tumbled from her hand. She tore her arm away and gave him a poisonous glare as she whirled and ran. Cloud bent down and picked up the sliver. He groaned, prodding at the dull edge of the toy, and he watched it bend like rubber under his hand.

There were shouts around him as ninja poured into the inner courtyard and pointed their spears at him, spreading out to try to surround him. One of them said something in a thickly accented voice muffled by his helmet, and Cloud drew his sword.

"Crescent unit?"

He ducked under a spear blow whipped toward his head, and he rotated into a slash. Splotches of blood splattered against his cheek just under his eye, uncomfortably hot as they started running, and he blinked reflexively. It smeared over the arm he raised to his face, mingling with the ratty coat of dust he wore.

"Start a riot, huh," Cloud said. He raised his sword in both hands, blade parallel to the ground, and he saw the glare of orange light belch from the blade as he charged.

--

The inside of the central pagoda was hollow and round, the ceiling stretching up out of sight. Red and gold walls shone under lamplight, but Cloud could see the patches of disrepair, the colour worn thin like cloth washed too many times.

"Angeal?" he called. He heard a breath of a muffled echo, and he stared up into the darkness above.

He saw the shift of indistinct shadows a moment before he dove into a roll, and the impact of something massive striking the floor made the walls quake and the ground jolt under his hands. Cloud saw the polished wood of the floor buckle and crack where the tomahawk impacted, mini mountain ranges surrounding a shattered crater. The giant grunted, tugging at the handle of his weapon.

Cloud felt the shift of movement behind him, and he twisted, digging a hand and a knee into the ground to push himself up and away. The huge foot had a woven mat of a sandal strapped to it, flapping off the heel as it clipped his side and sent him hurtling into a wall. There was a sharp slap as his back slammed into the wood, and Cloud thumped to the floor. He wheezed, spit running into his mouth, trying to draw breath into his deflated diaphragm, and he dug his fingers into his thighs as he dragged himself to his feet. He ducked and pushed away from the wall, more tumble than run, and a sweeping backhand passed over his head, sending up a gust of wind that buffeted Cloud's neck.

He kept moving, keeping to the wall and sometimes hopping up to cling to it like a fly sticking to glass before gravity caught on and he slid back down again. He felt around his ribs. Intact. Screaming like a bitch in heat, but intact.

The giants stomped around, their movements graceless and ponderous. They swung their axes at him, hard enough to crumple stone, but they'd managed to get in each other's way as they spun slowly, chasing Cloud, and the one that received a deep score over its bulky bicep keened loud and shrill enough that it felt like the wax was melting out of Cloud's ears.

He skidded to a halt behind them, and he raised his hand as they struggled to turn around without slamming their shoulders into each other or the axe-carved walls. Spitting fireballs hurtled toward the giants, splashing against their backs and filling the air with the greasy stench of seared flesh. They screeched and thrashed, the hard, blackened remains of the skin over the burns snapping apart like charcoal and oozing.

Cloud shot forward, narrowing missing a quick swipe of a bulky arm as he leaned into his sword, biting deep into the backs of the legs of one of the giants. His sword cut into the underside of one knee and sliced into the calf of the other leg. The monster collapsed, its arms rising to catch itself. It was too slow, and its face hit the floor with a hollow thud before its head bounced. The tomahawk that had been in its hand clattered, spinning a bit, as it jumped and skittered across the floor.

Cloud winced, fighting the urge to clap his hands over his ears. The shrieking continued, and he made an awkward hopping backpedal when the other giant swiped at him with its axe. Edging around the fallen giant and darting up to the monster's head, he paused, looking down at the beady eye, shot through with streaks of red, when it trained unblinking on him.

When he stabbed downward, the point of his blade caught briefly on the juts of the giant's spine. His arms vibrated as the sword rasped over bone, and the weapon jerked when the resistance suddenly passed, tearing a wide gash in the skin.

The giant made a short whimpering noise, quickly drowned out by the enraged bellow behind Cloud. He swung around his pinned sword to face the other monster, and he dragged hard at the handle as he looked up at the descending axe. The giant's hand twisted as it dropped, Cloud saw. Either as a defect of its training or because it intended to squash him like a cockroach with the flat of the axeblade.

"Move!" he growled, yanking again at his sword.

It barely jiggled.

"Fuck!"

Cloud let go of the hilt, springing back a couple of steps before jumping straight up, tugging himself into a flip for height. Just as he dropped, touching for a moment down on the flat of the tomahawk, the giant shifted into a sideways swipe and yanked his feet off balance as the weapon moved.

Shouting, Cloud thudded to the ground in the wake of the monster's swing. He rolled, bringing his knees up and ignoring the sting in his ass, and he made a clumsy dash for the wall. Running up the surface and kicking off before he started to skid, Cloud reached out as he flew, fingers snagging on the giant's collar, and he jolted to a halt.

The giant gagged and choked, and it began to spin around like a dog chasing its tail.

Cloud gritted his teeth tight, and he wound one of the armour straps attached to the giant's shoulder around his hand. The edges of the hard leather dug into his palm when he released the other hand and brought it up, materia blazing violently at his wrist.

Thunder rained down, point blank, upon the giant's head, the crackling and sizzling sounds fusing with the giant's scream to form an ear-splitting soup of noise that made Cloud's bones buzz. His fingers were going numb. He poured his strength into the materia until it was incandescent, its heat permeating his bracer and boring what felt like a hole through his skin.

The giant was still screaming when it collapsed to the floor.

Cloud wrenched his hand free of the straps and hopped a few steps away before he let himself fall to the ground. He lay flat, staring up where the ceiling vanished above and cradling his hand at his chest while blood rushed back into his fingers and made them sting and hum. He tried to bend his knuckles.

He hadn't felt this shitty since the time his cadet corps had gotten their hands on a Thundaga for the first time and the bastard beside him had misfired and sent a bolt earthing through Cloud before blowing the reinforced steel door off its hinges. He pressed his shoulders into the cool planks of the floor, and his head swam like someone had pulled the plug out of the bottom of his brain and it was swizzling down the drain.

The giant made another croaking noise, and then it was silent. The splintered floor creaked under Cloud's back as he gulped at the air.

"Impressive, to have survived the Vajradhara."

Cloud tensed, his eyes flitting back and forth over the shadows along the walls. "You gonna show yourself?" he said, after a moment.

There was a patch of movement, and Cloud focussed on the glitter of gold in the ninja's armour, murky in the weak light above. He'd seen that dragon before.

"Crescent unit, wasn't it?" Cloud said, pulling himself to his feet. "I just wasted a bunch of you guys outside."

"For which you shall pay," the ninja barked. "I am Crescent unit Plenum, commander of the Full Moon, and I will avenge my team!"

"Bullshit," Cloud said loudly. "What did you do, hang around out of sight while you sent your team in to get slaughtered?"

There was a jarring thump, and Cloud's back hit the wall. He'd brought up his hands in time to close the fingers of one hand over a bare portion of the shaft of the ninja's gun-lance, and he braced his other wrist against the flat of the lance blade, shoving upward as Plenum bore down on him.

"Don't you fucking preach to me about honour," the ninja rasped, his voice low and the formal lilt to his speech gone. "I learned my honour in the streets of Midgar and under the thumb of Shinra, and every fucking day one of you honourable assholes tried to shove my head through a wall because of the colour of my skin."

Cloud strained against the lance, trying to slide his feet back to give himself enough leverage. "You're a Soldier," he hissed. "You're a traitor!"

Plenum laughed, sharp and hoarse. "If you're going to point fingers and call names, you'll be here for a while. There are plenty of us 'traitors' in this war."

"What are you-"

"They were pretty surprised, too, the other team of Soldiers."

Cloud narrowed his eyes. "What other team?"

"Soldiers die just as pretty," the ninja said, nearly singing his words.

Cloud shot forward, winding his arm around the shaft of the gun-lance and jerking up his elbow. The wooden shaft crunched, splitting into raggedly fletched pieces, and Cloud slapped the blade aside and surged, his fingers digging into the ninja's throat as he hooked his heel behind one of the man's knees and shoved.

He bared his teeth and pinned the ninja to the floor, staring down at the helmet knocked crooked by the impact.

"What other team?"

Plenum didn't say anything, and a wide grin edged over his face as his head shifted just a bit, as if he was looking over Cloud's shoulder.

Cloud launched himself to the side, rolling and bringing his knee up to push to his feet just as the third giant pounded into the ground. The ninja had turned onto one shoulder before the giant's foot landed on his torso, snapping his ribs like glass and deflating his head like a squashed, overripe grape. The spray hit Cloud's uniform a moment before the giant swung its flail and the iron head the size of a dinner table connected with Cloud's stomach and lifted him off his feet.

His head snapped back and cracked against the pillar behind him when he rebounded off of it, and he sagged to the ground.

Cloud looked up at the giant shuffling toward him, arm raised to crush, and he squinted hard against the black edges to his vision. His legs felt like jelly, quivering and flopping back down as soon as he tried putting any weight on it. The blackness swallowed him.

"Oi, you're not giving up, are you?"

Cloud jumped, and he pried his eyelids open. His arm shook as he raised it, and he grabbed his wrist with his other hand as every materia studding his bracer flashed to life.

The flail had already begun its descent.

There was the sound of air parting over oiled steel.

The flail, jerked off target, thumped to the ground beside Cloud's leg and caused the floor to shudder. Slowly, the giant crumpled.

Cloud watched Angeal straighten, the edge of the Buster sword gleaming like placid water in the lamplight. The First kept level eyes on the fallen giant while he hooked the Buster back onto its harness, and he reached out, tugging Cloud's sword free from where it was lodged in a trunk-sized neck as he passed. He stopped in front of Cloud.

The walls of his airway felt like they were fused together and sliding, grating apart with skin curdling slowness.

He raised his head, hacked like his lungs were stuffed with dust, and he tried again.

"Wasn't it important that you didn't use that sword?" Cloud said.

Angeal looked at him hard for a second, but there was a smile on his lips when he stretched out his hand.

"Come on."

--

Every step jarred Cloud's ribs. He shuffled to a pause, his eyes squeezed to slivers, and he wrapped an arm around his side, drawing in a deep breath that sent the nerves in his side into a frenzied dance.

"Sit down." Angeal's voice was short.

Cloud shook his head. "Just catching my breath."

"Cloud," Angeal snapped. "Sit down."

There was a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Cloud's legs wobbled. The mountain path was cut flat, and the smooth bark of trees rose up out of raised banks on either side. Cloud leaned against the damp grass, and it quickly soaked through patches of his uniform and prickled his skin.

Angeal's fingers prodded his side, and he twitched.

"Stay still," the First said. He flattened a wide palm. "Feels solid," he said after a while. "Probably just strained."

"Said I was fine," Cloud said.

"Really?" Angeal said, a moment before his fingers tightened.

Cloud nearly bit through his tongue cutting off a yelp.

"You've been seeing and hearing things for weeks, Cloud."

Cloud didn't respond. His hand fisted in the fabric of his uniform.

"Either you talk to me or I submit a request for a psych eval when we get back."

"I'm not crazy," Cloud said loudly.

The fire had died down behind them, and with a brittle crunching sound that echoed through the valley, a piece of the fort's roof collapsed, sending up a flaring geyser of sparks. An agitated beetle of some sort thumped against the side of Cloud's head and buzzed its wings furiously, tangling itself further. Wincing, Cloud reached up, closing his fingers around the tapered edges of the insect's shell, and it panicked in his hand as he pulled it out of his hair. He threw it into the air, watching as it tumbled and dropped like a stone before catching itself on its wings and zipping away into the leaves.

Cloud wiped his palm against his pants, and he shrugged. "I'll figure it out."

Angeal's jaw tightened, shifting under his skin, and he trained flat eyes on Cloud.

There was the roar of an explosion down the path. Blue smoke ballooned out, rising up over the trees.

Cloud shoved off the embankment. Angeal had already vanished around the bend in the path, and he leaned forward a bit, testing his knees. Pulling his sword free as it ground in its scabbard and grimacing at the dirt coating the blade and rasping at the movement, he flicked his wrist a few times, spinning the sword until he was satisfied, and he ran.

The gutted shell of a military truck lay on its side, spitting tongues of flame and stinking of burning rubber. The neatly tailored jacket of the man flanked by MPs was singed black at the edges, curling crisply as he crouched behind the base of the truck. One of the MPs snapped a cartridge into place and rolled to his knees, turning and sighting along the barrel of his gun.

There was a flash of dull red, and a short, shrill sound. The MP slumped.

His killer waved his wide daggers, weaving sinuously as he shifted from foot to foot. The red-tinted helmet turned to Cloud, its movements languid and jerky in turns.

Cloud raised his sword.

Angeal slashed upward, the broadsword in his hands catching the curved edge of the daggers and scraping loudly.

"Get Director Lazard out of here!" Angeal snapped, glancing over his shoulder at Cloud before thrusting forward, disengaging his blade, and bringing it around into a crushing sweep.

"I'm not gonna just leave-"

The First slammed his fist into a throat. "Go, Soldier! I can handle this!"

Cloud snapped his mouth shut, and he sheathed his weapon with a sharp click as he bounded over a pair of legs, one of the knees bent the wrong way, poking out from under the truck. Skidding a bit on the loose leaves underfoot, he grabbed at a thin shoulder. "Director!"

Lazard twisted around. "Soldier Second Class Strife!" He ducked at the sound of a fireball pounding into the truck and sending tall flames licking up at the boiling sky.

Cloud heaved the man to his feet, his back straining as he leaned forward, pressing his hand against the Director's nape to keep their heads down low. "Move, sir! I'll accept all praise later."

Lazard gave a short laugh, more cough than anything. "True, you performed most admirably during your mission to capture Fort Tamblin. Your strategic actions in seeking out the commander of the fort threw the enemy forces into disarray and prevented them from launching a coordinated counterassault."

Cloud's mouth thinned.

The sound of gunfire was still loud behind them, but the smell of smoke no longer stung the back of his throat. He turned his head to the side quickly and spat, sooty phlegm glistening blackly on the ground, but his grip on the Director's arm never faltered.

Lazard's mouth twisted into half a smile, and he cleared his throat before he continued. "In short, you skilfully supported Angeal as a diversionary force and successfully allowed the main combat unit to take the enemy's final seat of power. Congratulations."

The cool air of the forest path raised bumps on Cloud's skin after the heat of the gas fire. "Thank you, sir," he said tightly.

His PHS whirred, vibrating in his pocket, and he snatched at it.

It was mail from Kunsel.

Answer my fucking messages! What's going on over there? Are you alive or not?

He tapped his thumb over the keys, and they chimed softly upon depression.

Busy. War.

He watched the little envelope icon swoop across the screen cheerily, and for a brief moment, he considered hurling the thing at a tree. He pressed another button.

The words "No new messages" flashed at him a couple of times before the screen flipped back to his map. The casing creaked as Cloud's fingers tightened.

"Soldier?"

Cloud stashed the PHS into his pocket. "Sorry, sir."

"Director!"

A couple of scouts stood just off the path, and they threw their hands up in salute.

Cloud watched the fuss for a moment. He scuffed his boots over the pebbled ground, resisting the urge to check his silent PHS again, and he said, "I'll, uh, go back. Help Angeal."

Lazard tipped his head. "Go."

Cloud jogged a few feet before he stopped. He frowned, and he turned to Lazard. "I encountered an enemy ninja who suggested that the main unit experienced difficulties," he said, slowly.

Lazard's face gave nothing away. "The mission was a success," he said quietly.

Cloud waited.

"But casualties were high."

Cloud felt his shoulders grind together with the effort of staying still. He nodded.

--

Cloud splayed a hand against a tree, and the thin vertical cracks running through the bark pinched at his palm. He dug the fingers of his other hand into the tightly stretched flesh over his ribs, and it hurt like something was trying to claw its way out of his skin with little pronged nails, but the pressure was a welcome distraction from the nagging ache. He closed his eyes. He'd be damned if he was going to limp around like three-legged dog.

He took a slow breath, and he straightened his back.

He'd only taken a few steps before the growling started.

Cloud twisted, his hand rising to his sword, and he leaped backward as the thing surged toward him and raised its paw to rake down. Heat seared through his arm, and he tugged his elbow in tight, glancing down at the row of tears in his skin, running the length of his forearm. Hissing through his teeth, he shook the dribbles of blood to the ground. The thing's claws extended and contracted, digging narrow gashes into the dirt. Cloud watched it as it pranced, springing from side to side, and its leonine mane bobbed under the lashing of its long, thin tail.

He jumped over the next swipe, his sword arcing a wide circle as he dragged it around and up, flaying open the thick hide covering the monster's foreleg and exposing cords of muscle shot through with netted veins. The monster bellowed, swinging its body around to whip its tail towards Cloud's throat. He kicked out, but the snake-like tail bent on impact, spiralled around his leg, and wrapped itself around his other boot before it yanked his feet out from under him.

With a yell, Cloud toppled. He curled in midair, bearing down with both hands on the backhanded grip he had on the hilt of his sword. He lay still, his jaw still vibrating with the force with which his teeth clacked together when he landed on the beast's barbed vertebrae, and as the monster's back sagged, its lungs collapsing under his weight, he slid off onto the churned earth. His sword stood swaying by his shoulder, wedged between the monster's ribs.

The claw marks on his arm were raised like bars, sealed shut by the fluids oozing from the scratches.

Cloud clenched and released his fist, and a small trickle of blood beaded off his wrist. He stood, reaching out for his sword.

"Shit."

Lion beasts crowded the mountain trail. One leaped, sailing over his head as he dove. Cloud came up running.

"Shit!"

The thrum of his pulse thundered in his ears, a counterpoint to the yowling at his heels. He saw the prone forms on trampled grass, and he hurdled them a moment before a blaze of light scorched his eyelids. Heat roared past him, and the offensive scent of burning fur crowded into his nostrils.

He heard the screeches behind him as he thumped to the ground and skidded his knees raw. Charred ashy heaps littered the trail, and the monsters that hadn't been swallowed by the fire whimpered as they scrabbled to escape.

Cloud stared as Ifrit tilted his horned head to the sky and roared, strands of flame clinging to his massive fists and twining turns around his crimson arms. Cracks split the earth with sharp pops as it desiccated in the furnace.

Ifrit fixed Cloud with slitted red eyes.

Ignoring the reek of singed skin peeling, Cloud reached for his broadsword. His lungs screamed for air, but he held his mouth closed against the sear at the back of his throat. Squinting his parched eyes nearly closed, he tensed.

A blast of pressure rolled flames like a wave, and Cloud flung his arms over his eyes.

The Masamune glowed like a ripe forge. It streaked, leaving light trails emblazoned into Cloud's cornea and silent heat muffling his ears. He watched Ifrit jerk, suspended for a moment with his hooves lifting up from the ground.

Noise slammed into Cloud's eardrums and froth-like fire blared through the clearing as the summon's body disintegrated into pure energy.

Cloud's hands burned, pressed hard into the levelled earth, and warmth dripped slowly from his ears. Fragile clinks and pops sounded as charred bark cooled and shrivelled, mostly drowned out by the sound of his violent heaving.

His hand shook when he lifted an arm-fuck it had crusty blood all over it-and swiped it over his mouth, and he looked up.

Sephiroth rested the Masamune against a thigh as he crouched over the bodies fused to the ground by melted armour. The helmets were distorted, their surfaces glistening oily like liquefied plastic, but their shapes were familiar.

Cloud opened his mouth, and a harsh croak came out. He swallowed. "These guys aren't Wutai," he said.

Sephiroth reached out and tugged off a helm. It rocked a bit, its dented surface settling against the ground.

It was Soldier issue, tainted a deep rust colour.

"Genesis," Sephiroth muttered, bent over the slack face.

Cloud craned his neck to see. "The missing First?"

Sephiroth didn't respond, hooking his fingers under the latch of another helmet. An identical face tipped onto a blister-split ear. A scowl creased over his mouth, and Sephiroth tilted his head. "Where's Angeal?" he said.

Cloud dragged himself to his feet, shuffling in a slow circle. He stiffened. A deep rut stood in stark relief against the surface of the boulder squatting in the path, a patch of crinkled grass in its lee. Soot covered it, and it was sticky to the touch. If he canted his sword, he could see the matching abrasion on its blade, fresh scratches painted over top of it since.

"Tch." Sephiroth stood. "He's gone with them."

Cloud spun around, his teeth pressed tight enough to ache. "Angeal would never-"

"Angeal is a traitor." The sharp words cut into his.

Slowly, Cloud pulled the curl of his lip down.

Sephiroth held the Masamune close to his hip as he moved, and Cloud watched the echo of moonlight off the blade. The glare made his vision fuzz.

The leather of his gloves rasped over his knuckles as his hand squeezed against the furrow left in the stone at his back. Cloud screwed his eyes shut and hammered the side of his fist into the rock.

--

TBC

I'm still three chapters behind because of my laziness. It'll get done. At some point.

Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.