Beloved, Chapter 8
Cloud pushed open the Church doors.
Steel blurred towards his face, whistling through the air.
He dropped to the floor, drawing out his sword in one fluid motion. His blade swept in a wide arc, driving back his attacker. Flowers scattered, petals whirling in the air.
“Genesis?”
The SOLDIER in question angled his rapier towards him. “You have not been upholding your end of the bargain, Cloud Strife!” The crimson blade sliced at his throat. Cloud twisted to the side, and it struck the door.
“What are you talking about?”
The wood charred and hissed as Genesis yanked his rapier free, rounding on him with burning indignation in his eyes. “You’ve been keeping secrets. Did you think I would stand for it? After I so graciously agreed to share my knowledge with you?” He struck like a mad serpent, weaving around his defences with deceptive speed.
Cloud stepped back, batting aside each strike before ducking out the door. Never mind that Genesis could fly - he didn’t want to fight inside the Church. The fray carried into the wreckage outside, their blades flashing in the morning sunlight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You killed Sephiroth!” The words were accentuated with a blast of flame. Heat buffeted him, singeing the tips of his hair.
How did he find that out? “What do you care?” He retorted with a Braver - Genesis expected it this time, and stepped back to bear the driving weight.
“What do I care?” His rapier glowed red with magic, bright even under the direct sun. Embers scattered with each wild, sweeping slash. “All this time, and you’ve been hiding the fact that it was you who killed Sephiroth!”
Two and a half weeks their truce had held. That was hardly a lot of time. “It didn’t seem important.” A quick roll to the side dodged another fireball.
“Not important?” Grit scraped under their boots as their weapons locked in parry, angling for advantage. “Don’t treat me like a fool! I am a SOLDIER First Class!” With a monumental effort, Genesis threw his full weight against his sword. Cloud slipped to the side, the sharp edges of their blades singing as he scraped out of the deadlock. “How did you defeat him when everyone else failed?!”
That was what this was about? “I just got lucky the first time!”
Genesis made a strangled sort of sound in his throat. “The first time?” His rapier cleaved through a stray wooden beam like butter. Cloud spun away as splinters showered them.
In retrospect, that argument wouldn’t help his case any - though Cloud was not yet exactly sure what his case was. Digging in his heels, he met the next attack head on. “This is stupid.”
“I agree. Only a moron would hold back against a SOLDIER in battle.” Flames began to build up in Genesis’s spare hand. “Enough of this! Fight me seriously, Cloud Strife!”
Genesis didn’t even wait for him to respond. With a twist of his wrist, fire burst all around him - a halo of searing orange explosions that thundered in his ears and scalded his skin. His opponent was fighting to kill.
Cloud’s patience finally snapped.
His thumb hit the sword release.
…………………
Genesis smiled humourlessly, hair tossed by the burning air as a maelstrom of flames burst before him. Oh yes. It had been far too long since he’d cut loose.
His heart sang with the thrill of battle, almost giddy with the prospect of finally proving himself, finally concluding a fight left unresolved for over a decade.
To his pleasure, Cloud burst through the blaze towards him, slightly sooty but otherwise unharmed. Genesis raised his blade with relish, dashing forward to meet the strike-
Time seemed to slow as the sword split before his eyes. Giddiness abruptly turned to disbelief.
He wrenched himself to the side. Steel shivered a hair’s breadth from his stomach. The afterimage drove for his shoulder.
Instinct - a long persevered habit of protecting a gangrenous wound - was all that let him react in time. With a twist, he dropped to one knee, the blade passed harmlessly by with a whoosh of air - then an instant later came driving towards his leg.
It was a messy block - Genesis jerked his rapier into a guard, knocking the strike off course, using that precious second to roll away, tossing out a barrage of fireballs while he regained his feet. How-?
As the flames dissipated, he had his answer.
It hadn’t been a trick of the eyes. The sword had broken in two.
Cloud didn’t wait for the realisation to kick in - he was upon him in an eye blink, dual blades slashing. Desperately, Genesis backpedalled, parrying one slash while evading the other, boots scraping across the cracked earth. He grimaced with effort as what looked like a glancing blow turned out to have the entire sword behind it. He’d rejoined the blades. No sooner than he thought that, he was whirling, catching the next strike, and then overbalancing as it turned out to only be half the blade again.
He’d become faster. A lot faster. Enough so that Genesis - one of the quickest SOLDIERs, bar Sephiroth - struggled to keep up, his muscles protesting the strain and his breathing growing laboured.
It was art. There was no other word for it. Poetry in motion.
A thin gash cut through the thigh of his pants. Another scored along his cheek, seeping crimson. He spun away, half a step behind, throwing out fire and fashioning molten magic swords to waylay his opponent for even a moment.
Cloud swept them all aside as though they were nothing more than a troublesome breeze. Steam hissed from his blade, and the air warped with heat waves.
Unstoppable.
For the first time in his presence, Genesis began to feel a shred of self-doubt. A tendril of fear took hold, an almost forgotten sensation not quite smothered by the defensive anger and indignation awakening deep in his gut.
He couldn’t win.
His thoughts turned to automatic response. His wing spread forth, and he scrambled into the sky, a messy flutter of whirling black feathers.
Cloud simply jumped to meet him, twin swords brandished.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
Snarling, Genesis lashed out with all of his strength - strength that could shatter concrete and slice steel. Airborne, though, it did little good. The force of their meeting sent him careening through the air, wind whistling past his ears and wing trailing uselessly.
He crashed into the side of a concrete wall with a sickening thud. It collapsed under him, crumbling in a series of deafening cracks and thumps. One jagged slab struck his sword arm, pain lancing up to his shoulder before a curious numbness set in. His rapier clattered from his fingers, and he scrabbled to pick it up with his other hand.
Heavy boots thudded to the ground by his knees, their step steadfast and sure on the loose rubble. Silver steel pointed at his heart.
“Are you happy now?” Cloud asked.
His entire stance was calm. Confident. As though taking out a SOLDIER First Class was no more strenuous than slaying an uppity dragon.
Cloud Strife was the real deal.
For a moment, jealous rage flared in his breast. His fingers itched to pull out his Fire materia again, to unleash hell on this no-name upstart who had stolen his rival and glory from under his feet, who had survived when Zack Fair and his dear friend Angeal had fallen, who he once held helpless and at his mercy.
Let it not be said, however, that he was without honour. The strength was real. Genesis could respect it.
“I’ve become rusty,” he muttered. “Far too long underground, without a worthy opponent.”
It was, apparently, concession enough. Cloud withdrew.
Grimacing, Genesis pulled himself up, feeling the ache in his back muscles from the impact, relieved he’d at least managed to turn enough to avoid landing on his wing. If not for mako enhancements, he would have been a red smear on the wall. As it was, he’d be feeling tender for a few hours.
With a small amount of effort, he heaved the slab of concrete off his pinned arm, inspecting it as best he could. Not broken as far as he could tell, but he didn’t want to imagine what the skin looked like underneath the leather sleeve.
The warm tingle of cure magic washed over him, chasing away the worst of his aches. He glanced up as Cloud tucked a Restore back into his pocket. He hadn’t been aware the man carried any materia.
“You really did it,” he murmured in wonder. “You killed Sephiroth.” Despite Vincent’s words, a part of him hadn’t truly believed it. Not until then.
Cloud just looked uncomfortable. “I had a lot of help.” He stood back, giving him room to stand and brush himself off. Genesis’s nose wrinkled as he took in the state of his coat. Already it had been growing tattered, and the new rents in the leather would not be easy to mend.
“Hmph.” Genesis cast a casual eye over his rapier next, checking for damage, but it looked like the magic had done its work in protecting the blade. “You insult me by selling yourself short, Cloud Strife.”
He turned to take stock of their surroundings. The fight had carried them some distance from the church, though the spire remained visible in the distance. Little in the way of recognisable architecture remained in the area - mostly the odd valiant wall, holding up against the elements, the rest crumbling into a monotonous mess of rubble and wreckage.
The reverent stillness of their surrounds shattered under a high-pitched buzz. Cloud pulled out his phone, frowned, and gestured at Genesis to keep quiet as he answered.
The blond listened for a long moment, then said, “Don’t worry about it. That was me.”
He paused.
“Yeah, I stopped by the Church.”
Another pause.
“Testing materia.”
A longer pause.
“None of your business.”
Then Cloud hung up, and fixed Genesis with a look that said ‘this is all your fault’.
It was a look Genesis was very familiar with thanks to Angeal, and it didn’t work any better on him now than it did back then. “You truly have conversation down to a fine art, don’t you?”
“The less you say to the Turks, the less chance of getting caught lying,” was the simple reply.
True enough. Not everyone could be as gifted as himself with words and fiction.
“So,” Genesis said, “Where will we be searching today?”
Cloud stared at him. Genesis indulged him by staring back, smirk playing on his lips.
“…That’s it?”
“I’m willing to let the matter of your misinformation slide for now.” Genesis could be gracious, no matter the blow to his pride. “On one condition.”
Mako blue eyes regarded him, wary now.
“We,” Genesis stated, “are going to spar again.”
The reply this time came swiftly. “Not interested.” Cloud turned and headed over to his motorcycle.
Genesis flexed his wing, testing for damage from his rather ungainly crash. “You don’t have a choice, Cloud Strife!”
In response, the motorcycle’s engine gunned to life, roar cutting across the ruinous landscape. With a scrape of tyres and a spray of sand, Cloud took off. Deeper into Midgar, at least - the search was on as normal.
Genesis watched for a moment. He would let the matter drop… for now. His opponent would come around - he would get his way in this, at the very least.
He leapt into the air before Cloud could speed out of sight. His back still ached faintly, but it wouldn’t hinder his flight. It scarcely mattered - his thoughts were far too active to pay any attention to such physical distractions.
No longer could he view Cloud Strife as nothing more than a source of information; a curiosity; a tenuous link to fond memories of the past. That had been swept away in the wake of twin blades. It cast his new comrade in an entirely new light - filled him with a feverish heat, a kind of electricity that charged him, made him feel alive, as though the past ten years had been shrouded in a grey fog.
Genesis threw back his head, and laughed at the sky.
So he’d lost Sephiroth as a rival? It hardly mattered, now. He’d found someone even better.
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