Chapter 1: [Saga I: The Academy] – The Road to Midgar
Chapter Text
"Are you absolutely sure?" a woman in her late thirties asked as she wiped her hands dry with a dish towel and draped it over the rim of the wooden sink. She turned to face her teenage daughter at the small kitchen table, brushing a wayward strand of bright blond hair back into her bun. If you looked closely, a few streaks of gray threaded through her hair. She still looked youthful, but the shadows under her eyes told another story.
The girl stood, bringing her empty plate to her mother after finishing her meager breakfast of toast and egg. "It’s time, don’t you agree?"
Her mother set the dish in the sink and gently grasped her daughter’s arms. The resemblance between them was striking—both shared bright blond hair, fair complexions, lean builds, and eyes that glowed like sapphires. Yet her daughter passed herself off as a son: hair cut short into gravity-defying strands that haloed her head, plain brown trousers, a tan tunic, and boots completing the disguise.
"I hate to let you go, but in my heart, I know it is time," the older woman, Freya, said softly, her eyes full of both sadness and pride.
The Strife women came from a long line of Valkyrie blood, their traits—hair, eyes, and resilience—passed down through generations. Never had a son been born among them.
"What did you see when I was born?" the daughter asked, her voice low, almost pleading.
Freya shook her head. "I cannot speak of it."
"You cannot, or you refuse?"
Instead of answering, Freya pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace. Her breath brushed Cloud’s silky hair as she whispered, "I saw your future, Cloud. The road will be long and hard, but its end will be beautiful." She drew back, forcing a sad smile. "That is all I can tell you, my love."
Cloud sighed, nodded, and turned toward the window. "They’re here. I’d better go." She slung her bag over her shoulder and moved to the door.
"I must ask," Freya said, stopping her. Cloud turned, tilting her head in bemusement. "When you reach Midgar—will you continue the charade, or will you be true to yourself?"
Cloud exhaled. "I’ll continue it. You know how they treat women—especially women like us. Afraid of us. Eventually, they’ll find out, but not yet."
Freya nodded. "Yes. I’m glad you earned that scholarship." She stepped closer and pressed a small bag into her daughter’s hands.
Cloud opened her mouth to protest, but her mother’s firm look silenced her.
"Take it. You need it more than I do. I’ll manage here."
"But you must come to Midgar soon," Cloud whispered as she tucked the moneybag into her satchel. Freya only shook her head. Cloud’s eyes stung as she met her mother’s gaze, then turned toward the doorway. Their home sat at the edge of Nibelheim, the trail up the treacherous Nibel Mountains looming just beyond.
The town itself was idyllic, nestled at the base of the jagged peaks known as Gaia’s Spine. Despite the mountains’ ominous presence, Nibelheim appeared sweet and welcoming to outsiders. Yet beneath its calm exterior, the townsfolk clung to old superstitions. They feared women with blond hair and glowing blue eyes.
Both Freya and her daughter bore those traits. Originally from Midgar, they had moved when Freya’s husband took work at the mountain reactor. His untimely death left them stranded, unable to afford to leave. To protect her child, Freya disguised Cloud as a boy. Even so, contempt and suspicion shadowed them for years.
Freya wished for a gentler life for her daughter, but fate offered only this: a scholarship to the ShinRa Academy, where Cloud might finally escape Nibelheim and carve her own future.
"I love you," Cloud said, her voice thick with both longing and determination. "I’ll write every week. And if I can, I’ll send enough for you to join me in Midgar."
"I love you too," Freya whispered. "Promise me you’ll write."
Cloud nodded, and with one last look at her mother, she jogged down the path to the square where a green canvas truck waited.
Every year, near the end of summer, a lone ShinRa truck rolled into Nibelheim to collect recruits. A blazing red diamond logo marked its side, and two uniformed SOLDIERs with electroguns stood watch as hopeful youths from surrounding towns stretched their legs. For a short time, boys—and the occasional girl—could sign their names and board for Midgar, where their futures awaited.
ShinRa was Gaia’s largest corporation, its reach spanning Mako energy, government, and its own military. The headquarters dominated Midgar, a sprawling metropolis halfway across the world from Nibelheim, housing millions—nearly half the planet’s population.
"ShinRa recruits! Line up and sign your names here," one of the guards called, slapping a clipboard on the truck’s hood. Boys scrambled forward to scrawl their names.
Cloud strode up, signed quickly, and climbed into the truck’s back before doubt could take root. The vehicle rumbled out of Nibelheim, bound south through desert, jungle, and eventually to Costa del Sol.
The trip passed with skirmishes against roaming beasts, which the soldiers dispatched with ease. The recruits cheered; Cloud, however, grew pale.
Her blond hair bobbed as the truck bounced along uneven roads. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on the window while waves of nausea churned her stomach.
"Hey, you alright?" a brown-haired boy asked.
Cloud groaned. "I’ve never been good with long rides."
"We’re almost there," another boy said, pointing to golden sands through the back flap.
Costa del Sol bustled at the shoreline. SOLDIERs led the recruits toward registration. Cloud joined the shorter line for those with official letters, clutching her acceptance to the ShinRa Academy—a two-year scholarship she had fought hard to win.
At the table, a sergeant reached for her papers without looking up. "Forms. Papers. Whatever you’ve got."
Cloud handed them over, catching sight of a sharp-dressed woman in sunglasses—the unmistakable mark of the Turks. Her pulse quickened.
"Cloud Strife, male, fifteen, Nibelheim," the sergeant muttered as he wrote. He glanced up. "Consider joining SOLDIER alongside your academics?"
Cloud forced her voice steady. "No, sir. Not yet."
"Think on it." He tore off a slip and handed it to her. "Ticket to Midgar. Wait over there."
She drifted toward the harbor wall where other boys gathered, ticket in hand. Her gaze swept over ranks of uniformed soldiers: gray for sea, navy for land and air, cadets in blue and gray. She knew the ranks from her studies.
Should she join them? The idea tempted her—money, security, and a chance to bring her mother to Midgar. But the risk of discovery was too great. She wasn’t ready.
"Mind if I join you?" The boy from the truck—Luke, from Gongaga—slid down beside her.
They spoke easily: his dream of SOLDIER glory, her plans for science, his urging that she at least try training. He teased her about General Sephiroth, the legendary war hero, and spoke of the Mako treatments that forged the Elites. Cloud shuddered at the thought of being infused with Mako.
An announcement crackled: time to board. Luke tugged her up, racing for a good spot.
The sea voyage to Junon was long, and Cloud’s face shifted from pale to green, much to Luke’s amusement. From Junon, another truck carried them inland until, at last, Midgar loomed.
Cloud’s jaw dropped. Black walls stretched for miles, laced with humming violet energy to repel monsters. The ground around them was scorched gray, lifeless. And above it all, a massive plate loomed, shadowing the city beneath.
They passed the gates and entered the joint base, where recruits were processed in droves. Cloud waited hours before receiving her identification card, cadet uniform, and dorm assignment.
The barracks were sterile rows of white buildings, lawns cut in exacting squares. She found her dorm at last, muttering floor numbers under her breath as she climbed the stairs. At her door, voices greeted her.
Two men looked up as she stepped in.
"Hey, Reno, we got another one—he’s even got the hair!" one said with a grin.
Cloud smiled shyly, smoothing her unruly spikes.
The dark-haired man with glowing violet eyes introduced himself as Zack Donovan Fair, Class Two SOLDIER and Residential Advisor. The red-haired one was Reno Sinclair, Class Three SOLDIER, with his sights set on the Turks.
They showed her the bunks, trunks, and mismatched posters plastered with gum. A massive broadsword hung on the wall, dwarfing her.
Cloud introduced herself, careful to keep her voice steady. "Cloud Strife, from Nibelheim. Mako Science major."
Zack beamed. "Welcome, roomie. Just call me Zack."
Reno smirked. "Tell us about yourself."
As they spoke, Zack explained SOLDIER ranks, Reno boasted of Turk's ambitions, and General Sephiroth’s name arose like a storm cloud. To reach Class One, one had to face and defeat the man himself. Cloud listened wide-eyed, unsettled.
Later, after a tour and dinner at the Mess Hall, Cloud finally lay down in her bunk. Exhausted but relieved, she closed her eyes. The long road had begun.
Little did she know, it would change everything.
Chapter 2: [Saga I: The Academy] – The Making of a SOLDIER
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Zack hummed softly under his breath as he strolled down the hallway to his room. After a long, uneventful day at work, he was itching for some sparring practice to shake off the boredom. His thoughts drifted to his littlest, anti-social roommate, the fluffy blond-haired kid. He knew the youth was in their room, studying hard as always.
Grinning to himself, he thought back to how quickly he’d convinced Cloud to join SOLDIER. For cadets, it was almost impossible to make it past two years at the Academy without joining; the tuition alone was too steep. Part-time SOLDIER work came with a heavy discount, and the pay was just enough to cover classes. The deal was too good to refuse, and Cloud had been no exception.
With Reno’s help, Zack had gotten Cloud enlisted and secured a solid scholarship for the rest of his courses. Cloud had accepted his new fate without protest, though Zack remembered the air of quiet resignation that came with it. Later, he and Reno made a secret bet: once Cloud made Class Two, would he stick with SOLDIER or jump over to the Turks? He had the size and build for the Turks, but Zack ended up winning. Cloud admitted he didn’t think he’d last past Class Three anyway and planned to finish his degree, then find a normal job.
Still, Zack had been stunned by the kid’s natural ability. Hand-to-hand, swordplay—Cloud picked it all up with startling speed. Despite his small frame and not meeting the usual regulations, Zack adjusted the training to suit his strengths, building speed and agility instead of raw power. To his relief—and maybe a bit of pride—Cloud had signed on in time for Basic Training.
Zack paused at their door and eased it open quietly. Sure enough, there was Cloud, parked at the desk, papers and books spread around him. He leaned against the doorframe, grinning. From the very first time they’d met, he’d felt a strong, protective pull toward the kid.
He’d seen him through Basic Training personally and had been floored by his endurance. SOLDIER Cadets had it tough, but Scholar Cadets? They had to juggle training, classes, and duties simultaneously. From dawn till late at night, Zack drilled his recruits mercilessly, and Cloud never once complained. He was the smallest and youngest of the group, the only true teenager; most of the others were four to six years older. Yet he kept up. His endurance was inspiring.
Zack frowned briefly. Cloud wasn’t exactly outgoing, but he still managed to learn everyone’s names and have casual conversations. Even so, he never truly socialized with anyone except Zack and Reno. Their third roommate, Phil, only came around to sleep or shower and had his own circle of friends.
Watching him now, Zack thought about how closely he’d observed him through training and classes. He wasn’t just tough; he was brilliant. In nearly a century of ShinRa history, only a handful of people had accomplished what Cloud was pulling off: Roscoe ShinRa, the company’s second president; scientists like Gast, Hojo, and L. Brown; and, of course, the one and only General Sephiroth.
Shoving off from the doorframe, Zack padded closer. Cloud tensed immediately—he always knew when someone was behind him—but relaxed and kept writing. Zack leaned over his shoulder and spotted the book propped on the desk. Second-year material. He was way ahead of the rest of his class. Zack frowned.
Shaking his head, he plopped down on the bed.
“Boots,” Cloud reminded flatly, still writing.
Zack chuckled. “Promise—feet off the bed.” He kept them dangling.
The Dean had cornered him a while back about Cloud’s request to advance early. At first, she refused, and Zack argued for Cloud’s right to enjoy herself, maybe take it easy for once. Cloud complained she was bored and wanted to push ahead, so Zack went higher—speaking to professors and, finally, to Sephiroth.
The General surprised him by taking a personal interest. Sephiroth checked Cloud’s records, reviewed her progress, and approved the advancement, as long as Zack monitored her and made sure she didn’t burn out. Cloud had been thrilled, though she insisted on keeping her progress off the books and under the radar.
Zack smirked, remembering. He’d wanted to introduce the two of them, but it never seemed to line up. Still, Sephiroth always asked about Cloud’s progress when Zack stopped by his office, and Zack made sure to report faithfully.
At a personal level, though, Zack had noticed things that nagged at him. Cloud was closed off, guarded—too much like Sephiroth in that way. It was déjà vu: once again, Zack had taken it as a personal challenge to break through and earn the trust of someone determined to stay locked away.
At least Cloud trusted him more than most—even more than Reno, who was usually off with his own crowd, spending his free time at bars or chasing trouble.
Zack leaned over the desk. “Boring, eh?” he asked, nodding at the report.
Cloud glanced up, giving a faint smile. “There’s not much to write, and the teacher’s an idiot. He wants twenty-five pages, like we’re supposed to cover every detail in ShinRa’s history. I doubt he even reads them.”
Zack barked a laugh. “I did the same thing. Slipped in a little dirt about Dwight ShinRa’s sex life and still got an A plus. Priceless.”
Cloud chuckled softly, returning to her essay. “Yeah, but since I’m ahead of the class, I’m pretty sure he’ll actually read mine. So no junk for me.”
Zack shook his head, clapped her gently on the back, and went to hang his sword up. She tensed at the touch, and he sighed. Sometimes, he wondered if Cloud had been abused growing up; she recoiled from the simplest gestures, never letting anyone close. The thought left a hollow ache in his chest. He shoved it aside and made a silent promise to himself: whatever had happened to her, he’d be there. He’d help her.
He thought back to one moment in particular, only a few weeks after Basic Training—a memory burned in his mind.
Flashback
Zack bounced into the room after a long day, eager for some fun. “Cloud!”
He found the blonde already glued to the desk, nose buried in a book, scribbling away at an assignment.
“Jeez! Already working? No fun at all?”
Reno popped his head into the doorway. “Hey! Come on! There are games at the park right now. Let’s go!”
Cloud didn’t even look up, hand flicking dismissively as she kept writing. “Uh, maybe some other time.”
Zack and Reno exchanged a look. Mischief sparkled in their eyes, and they grinned in unison.
“I don’t think so!” Zack announced. With Mako-enhanced speed, he spun Cloud’s chair around before she could react. In the next instant, she was hoisted up over his shoulder, flailing in the air.
As they started toward the door, Cloud thrashed and pounded on his back. She was so light it startled him for a moment, but her shriek was what froze him in place.
“Hey! Dammit! Put me down! I don’t fucking want to go, so fucking let me down already!”
Zack met Reno’s wide eyes in shock. In three months, neither of them had ever heard Cloud swear, let alone scream.
“Whoa.” Zack quickly loosened his hold, setting her down. He stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t mean to.”
Her face twisted in horror and fury. Clutching her chest as if struck, Cloud bolted for the bathroom and slammed the door.
Reno’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s up with the kid?”
Zack shook his head, eyes still on the door, and waved him off.
Reno shrugged. “’K, see ya later. Hope he’s okay.” He slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Left alone, Zack sat heavily on the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the bathroom door. What the hell just happened? In only three months, Cloud had become so withdrawn—never letting anyone close, always guarding her space like a wallflower trying to disappear.
Cloud never spoke of his hometown or of his family. All Zack knew was that Cloud wrote a short, simple letter to her mother every week, with no details.
He clenched his fists. I’ll help you. Whatever happened to you, whatever’s still haunting you, I’ll help you—no matter what.
An hour later, the door finally opened. Cloud stepped out, pausing when she saw Zack still waiting.
“Finally,” he said. “About time you came out.”
She scowled. “I thought you left.”
Zack shook his head. “I couldn’t. I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He searched her face for some clue—anything.
Cloud looked away and shrugged. “Oh. You’re forgiven.” She sat back at the desk and resumed her work.
The dismissal stung, but Zack brushed it aside. He reached out and touched her arm, only to feel her flinch.
“Hey,” he said gently. “I’m here. If you ever need to talk… talk to me. I’d like to be your friend. Trust me.”
Cloud froze, her pen hovering midair. Zack gave her a soft pat on the back and stood.
“See you later,” he said quietly, before heading to his bunk.
Alone again, Cloud let her pen fall. A single tear traced her cheek as she whispered the word as if testing it on her tongue.
“Friend…”
End Flashback
Cloud set her pen down and looked up at the raven-haired man.
“I’m done for now. What’s for dinner?” she asked with a grin.
Zack smiled back. “Mystery globs.”
They both laughed, his deep tenor and her youthful alto mixing like mismatched bells. As they headed out together, Zack thought about how his stoic friend would be amazed by this kid someday. Grinning, he ran after her.
By the time they reached the Mess Hall, Cloud was chattering about her reports and classes. Zack blinked, surprised she had nearly finished all the assignments he’d seen her start only a few days ago.
“When are you getting your finals?” he asked as they joined the line for food.
“They want me to wait and take them with everyone else,” she said with a pout. “But what am I supposed to do until then?”
The expression tugged at him. Cute, almost pretty—and that thought still caught him off guard. He reminded himself: Cloud was a boy, a man now, in ShinRa’s ranks.
“Oh, I’ll talk to Sephiroth about it. He’ll arrange something. You can take them early.”
Cloud froze as the lunch lady dropped a lump of orange “mystery meat” onto her tray.
“Sephiroth?” Her eyes went wide. “He’s the one who told the teachers to let me get ahead?”
Zack nodded, nudging her forward when the line grumbled. “Yeah. After you told me you couldn’t advance, I went to him. He’s my friend, and you’re lucky—he was actually interested. Pulled a few strings.”
Cloud’s cheeks flushed as she showed her ID card to the next server. She muttered under her breath, “Pretty sure he threatened them for their lives.”
Zack heard and laughed outright, drawing odd stares. Following Cloud to a table, he grinned. “That’s Sephiroth for you. Don’t worry—you should be glad. He hardly spares anyone time, even me. Usually I have to bug him nonstop to get five minutes.”
Cloud looked up in amazement as they sat at a newly cleared table. “And you’re still alive?”
Zack chuckled while poking at a green glob on his tray. “You believe those rumors?”
She shrugged, taking a bite of the orange sludge—turns out it was just macaroni and cheese. “Mystery meat, my arse.” Her dry remark drew chuckles from nearby. “Still, with his reputation, the rumors aren’t hard to believe.”
“You’re not wrong.” Zack spotted a familiar mop of red hair. “Hey, Reno! We’ve got seats here!”
Reno wandered over with two others: a tall, bald man with a deadpan expression and a short blonde woman with cropped hair.
“Sit,” Zack said, gesturing at the space beside him and Cloud. “What’s new?”
“Won a three-on-three basketball tourney,” Reno bragged. “Elena’s team crushed the women’s barracks. Seven–three.”
“Crushed as in won the game, or crushed their faces into the pavement?” Zack asked, flicking a green ball across the table.
“Both,” Rude answered calmly, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Come on, that’s not true!” Elena protested, smacking his shoulder.
Reno cackled. “What about Smith’s bloody nose when you pegged her with the ball?”
“She got in the way. I was passing to Spiegel!” Elena rolled her eyes.
“Sure,” Reno drawled, chewing his food.
Cloud sat quietly, watching their banter with shy curiosity. She nibbled at her dinner and listened as the conversation drifted from basketball to tag football to dating gossip.
“So, what about that girl from Slum Five?” Reno asked, downing his drink.
Zack’s grin lit up. “She’s great. Wants me to get flowers from overseas so she can grow them in her garden.”
“Yeah, that garden’s amazing,” Reno said. “How’s she keeping it green through winter?”
Zack leaned in with mock secrecy. “Barrier Materia. Gave her an old one—still works.”
Elena gasped. “That’s against regulations! Issued Materia is for SOLDIER only!”
Zack waved her off. “Relax. I filed a report saying it was cracked, got a new one, passed the old one along. No one noticed. Don’t do it yourself, though. Come to me first.” He wagged his finger in mock warning.
From beside him, Cloud murmured, “I’m sure the General knew.”
Zack blinked, surprised she was still there—usually she left meals early. “Yeah, he knew. Didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t critical.”
Cloud’s faint smile flickered, then faded when Reno turned to her.
“So, you writing to anyone back home? Seeing anyone in Midgar?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. No one.”
Elena noticed the discomfort and smoothly redirected. “So, Zack, this girl. She the one?”
Zack shrugged, thoughtful. “I don’t know. She’s sweet, wonderful… but different. She says she hears the Planet. I thought she was crazy, but maybe it’s a gift.”
“Hear the Planet?” Reno frowned.
“Yeah. Says it’s like hearing crying—like it’s in pain.” Zack’s voice trailed off as he caught Cloud’s expression, which was distracted and distant.
Her gaze swept the Mess Hall, which was thinning out as dinner wound down. Then her eyes froze on the far exit.
Zack noticed the shift instantly. He followed her line of sight, and there he was: Sephiroth, clad in black, his silver hair catching the harsh cafeteria lights, standing like a shadow of authority while some poor Class Two cadet wilted under his scolding.
“Sephiroth, huh?” Zack’s brows rose. Turning back, he caught Cloud’s wide-eyed look. He’d seen that face a hundred times on recruits idolizing the General. But in Cloud’s eyes there was something more—deeper admiration, quiet respect.
“You wanna meet him?” Zack asked quietly.
Cloud’s cheeks flushed. “Uhm, no.”
Zack smirked. Sephiroth wrapped up his lecture, glanced around the room, and his jade eyes locked with Zack’s. A nod passed between them. Zack lifted a hand in return.
Cloud stiffened. They really know each other.
Then Sephiroth’s gaze shifted to her. For a heartbeat, Cloud thought she saw recognition—something sharp, something curious—before his eyes went cold and unreadable.
Cloud froze. A feeling she couldn’t name struck her—like remembering a melody she’d never been taught. Only when Sephiroth turned and left did she breathe again.
Zack didn’t miss a thing. Grinning, he nudged her tray. “He wants to meet you. After all, he’s already pulling strings for you in class.” He stood, carrying his empty tray to the return rack. “Come on. Kendo practice?”
Cloud nodded and fell into step beside him.
On the way to the gym, she asked, “Why are you teaching me swordplay? I don’t get that until second year.”
“Because you’re good,” Zack said with a smile. “And it won’t hurt to get ahead. You’re already speeding through your classes—same goes for combat. Kendo’s one of ShinRa’s core skills. Sephiroth and I are both masters, so I teach the basics.”
Cloud smiled faintly. “Thanks. I like swordplay more than anything else.”
“You’ve got real talent for it. Wanna hear a secret?” He leaned closer, whispering, “Sephiroth is awful with guns. Couldn’t hit a target to save his life.”
Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
Zack laughed at her innocent shock. “Really. There you go. He’s not perfect.”
“I knew that.” Cloud huffed. “No one’s perfect.”
Zack’s smile softened, his eyes distant with thought. “No one is, until you meet the one who feels perfect for you.”
Cloud frowned. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head. “Ah, you’ll get it someday.”
They entered the gym and made their way to the locker room. Cloud grabbed her gi and slipped into a bathroom stall to change while Zack changed outside. A few minutes later, they stepped out together, dressed in the standard white-and-blue ShinRa-issued gis with matching obi, their feet bare against the cool floor.
From there, they headed to the armory. Each picked up a bokken—a wooden training sword shaped like a nodachi or katana. Zack, as always, chose the katana and broadsword, the same kind he kept hanging in their dorm. Cloud lingered at the racks, scanning the rows of blades. She’d been trained to handle several types but felt drawn to the four-foot nodachi: a straight, slightly oversized blade, scarred from heavy use yet still carefully maintained. She gripped it firmly, and together they made their way into an empty dojo.
They began with their usual ritual: stretching, loosening stiff muscles, and settling into the rhythm of practice. Soon the dojo echoed with the crack of clashing bokkens and the swift scuffle of bare feet. Zack’s Mako-enhanced strength and speed gave him the edge, but Cloud countered with agility, her smaller form darting around his strikes.
“Good, you’re gaining,” Zack said after landing a smart hit across her upper arm. He knew it would bruise later, but saw how quickly she adjusted, ready for his next attack. At this rate, he thought, she could make a solid Second Class—maybe even First, given time.
After nearly an hour of bokken drills, they switched to the nodachi and katana. The sparring shifted into something like a dance, strikes and parries flowing in rhythm, their blades slashing and locking with practiced precision. Zack found himself enjoying it more than expected; Cloud mirrored his movements almost flawlessly, absorbing and correcting mistakes with startling speed.
At last, they broke apart, both lowering their weapons. Cloud bent double, panting and dripping sweat, while Zack barely glistened, his stamina buoyed by Mako.
“You’re doing well,” he said, handing her a bottle of water. “Feel like taking on tougher partners soon?”
Cloud shrugged, catching her breath. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Keep this up and improve a little more—you could take on Sephiroth in a couple of years. I know I’m trying.”
Cloud blushed faintly and laughed. “Let’s see you beat him first.”
“We’ll see.” Zack nodded toward a massive weapon propped against the wall. “Want to try the Buster Sword?”
Cloud eyed the blade, its surface shimmering unnaturally under the lights, veined with twisted patterns, glowing bluish rather than gray. Mythril. She had thought such a weapon would be impossibly heavy, but with training, she knew she could at least lift it.
“I guess.” She stepped forward, gripping the hilt and hauling it up. A grunt nearly escaped her throat, but she bit it back. Once she adjusted her grip, the weight seemed more manageable.
Zack smiled with pride as she moved into a stance. She parried an invisible opponent, thrusting, blocking, and twisting her lithe body with surprising grace. He offered the occasional correction, watching her improve in real time.
After a quarter hour, she stopped, chest heaving. Carefully, she returned the blade to its rack, wiped the sheen of sweat from the metal, and dabbed at her damp golden hair with her sleeve.
“I guess I’ll head back to the dorm,” she said quietly.
“Sure. Next time, same sword?” Zack asked as she packed up.
Cloud nodded, murmured a soft goodbye, and slipped out the door.
“That’s Cloud Strife you’ve been telling me about?” a baritone voice asked from the shadow of the dojo.
Zack started, turning toward the sound. “General Sephiroth.”
The man stepped into view, dressed in black kendo clothes, even his feet bare—a rare sight for anyone but Zack. A scowl crossed his face at the formality. “Cut the formalities. So that’s your little roommate?”
Zack chuckled. “Yeah, that’s him. Cute little thing, isn’t he?”
Green eyes rolled. “He has good swordplay. His stance is strange, though. Familiar.”
“I know. I can’t place it—it’s different.”
“It’s Nibel fighting stance. Very old, almost ancient. From what I’ve read, it’s usually carried by the women, not the men.”
Zack’s eyes went wide. “You mean he’s using the Ancient stance? And what’s with the female part?”
Sephiroth’s gaze sharpened as he examined the swords left on the floor. “He didn’t just pick this up here. He must have learned before—perhaps from his mother. You said he’s from where?”
“Nibelheim.”
The silver-haired man’s eyes narrowed with dislike. “Nibelheim… there’s an old reactor there.” He stepped into position, bokken in hand, the weapon nearly as long as his legendary Masamune.
Zack mirrored him, settling into a stance. “Yeah. The Nibel Mountain Reactor, high up in the range. I’m not sure if you’ve been there.”
“Not recently. I don’t remember. Have you?” They circled slowly, easing into a parrying rhythm.
Zack’s wrists moved deftly, his bokken clicking against Sephiroth’s. “Once in a while. It’s a quiet town. The people don’t like ShinRa showing up—they usually hide indoors until we leave.”
“Yes.”
“Seems it makes Cloud even more mysterious, doesn’t it?” Zack pressed as their movements quickened, bokkens cracking louder now.
Sephiroth nodded. “Since you first told me about him—his pace through academics—I found it unusual. No one his age could advance that way unless they had prior Mako exposure.”
“Mako. Always the blasted thing,” Zack muttered.
“Still… with his swordwork and combat skills, I suspect something in his background is driving this. It’s not ordinary.”
Their sparring escalated into real combat. Zack swung, only to have his strike deflected.
“He’s emotionally fragile,” Sephiroth said between clashes. “I’d hate to see anything bad happen.”
“Care about him, do you? That’s unusual for you.” Strike. Defend.
“Hey, he’s a special case.” Parry. Thrust.
“Granted.” Sephiroth lunged, only to have his blade diverted. “You’re building a limit break.”
“So are you.”
The General’s eyes widened slightly—Zack was right. He was nearing his first limit break, while Zack was already pushing into his third.
“You’re holding back.”
“I mean to. I’m trying to break into my fourth.”
“What type?”
“Omnislash.”
“That’s high level for Class One.” Sephiroth’s tone sharpened as he shifted into trance, channeling his first-level break. Zack, in turn, initiated Omnislash.
The dojo exploded in brilliant colors. Energy flared, blades clashed, and the rhythm of their spar turned furious and blindingly fast.
At last, both slowed, the aura of their limit breaks fading. Sephiroth lowered his weapon, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Welcome to Class One. You’ve made it.”
Zack froze, jaw dropping. “You’re serious?”
“You defeated me.” He lifted his bokken, snapped it down to a nub, and touched his neck, where a dark bruise was already forming.
“Oh, crap!”
“My thought exactly. And ow, that really hurt.” Sephiroth chuckled, tossing the ruined bokken aside and rubbing his neck.
“It’ll be gone in a couple of hours.”
“True. See me tomorrow for—” He rolled his eyes and waved dismissively, clearly irritated. “—paperwork. You’ll start soon. Don’t worry, it won’t interfere with your schedule. The rest is up to you.”
Zack nodded. “Thanks, man.” He swigged from a bottle, then passed it to the General. Together, they surveyed the dojo: floor gouged, walls splintered.
“Think they’ll get mad?” Zack asked.
Sephiroth’s chuckle rumbled low. “I’ll tell them a monster rampaged in here. Don’t worry. Worth it.” He tossed the empty bottle back with a smirk. “It’s been lonely in the Elite.”
Zack shook his head, catching the bottle. “Why don’t you spar with him someday?”
“Maybe. Level him up more, and I’ll consider it. It would be an interesting change.”
“He’s not good enough yet?”
“Almost. But he’ll do well if he keeps at it. Train him more with broadswords—he has the knack. Likely taught before. The Buster Sword itself was designed in Nibelheim.” Sephiroth’s eyes flicked toward the door. “Go check on him. He’s back, watching us.”
Zack’s stomach dropped. “He what?”
“He didn’t hear us. He always watches when we spar.”
“You never told me!”
Sephiroth’s lips curled into a half-grin. “I don’t mind. It’s probably why he’s improved so quickly.” With that, he turned and strode out, black hakama swirling, silver hair trailing like a banner.
Zack sighed, hefted his bag, and gathered the swords to return them to the armory.
From the shadows of the adjoining dojo, Cloud rose silently. She had first stumbled upon Zack and Sephiroth sparring by accident, returning one night for something she had forgotten. Since then, she had come back again and again, hidden and unseen, to watch their movements. Each session sharpened her study—and with it, her admiration for the General grew into profound respect.
She hurried back to the dorm. Her two other roommates were already asleep. Quietly, she slipped into the shower, then climbed into bed, exhaustion pulling her toward sleep.
Just as she began drifting off, something hit her in the face. Swatting at it, she found a rolled-up sock. Looking up into the darkness, she caught the faint glow of Zack’s Mako eyes peering down from the top bunk.
Scowling, she muttered, “Hey, I’m trying to sleep here.”
Zack chuckled softly. “Hey.”
“What?”
“Enjoy watching Sephiroth and me spar?”
Cloud froze. “He… he said I always watch you?”
“Yeah. He always knows things. I didn’t realize until tonight—he told me.”
A silence stretched between them until Cloud squeaked, “Uh… sorry?”
“Don’t worry. He said he doesn’t mind. I don’t either.”
“Really?”
“You’re getting a lot of lucky breaks with him. Normally, he wouldn’t go out of his way for anyone, and he definitely prefers sparring in private.”
Cloud shifted uneasily. “Really, I didn’t mean to.”
Zack climbed down from his bunk and sat beside her. Cloud edged over, making room.
“Well, I know you take every chance to watch him,” Zack said. “You’re not the only one who admires him.”
Cloud’s gaze dropped to her blanket. She traced idle patterns across the rough cloth with her finger. “Oh.”
Zack frowned. “Care to tell me why?” His voice was curious, not scolding. Propping himself on one elbow, he studied her. To Zack, the moonlight softened her spiky hair, casting her face in faint silver. He caught himself noticing her fine nose, the small full lips, the way her expressions shifted between childlike fragility and a startling maturity. Her azure eyes were blank, masking whatever lay beneath.
After a long silence, Cloud sighed. “I don’t know why.” She wanted to say it was respect, or even a crush, but neither word fit. It felt older than that—like something written into her bones, a thread tugging her toward him no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
“No? Usually people who admire him have reasons.”
Cloud shifted to face him, her expression questioning.
“Oh, most want to be like him,” Zack explained. “Some—usually girls—have crushes. Others want his strength, his fame… he’s just that kind of figure.”
“What about you?” The quiet question surprised him.
“Hm. When I first met him, I was cocky. Challenged him to a fight. I didn’t even know who the great General Sephiroth was back then.” Zack laughed at the memory. “He laughed in my face and wiped the floor with me.”
Cloud smiled. “So, you became friends.”
“You could say that. I’ve never seen him talk to anyone else the way he does with me. He hardly bothers with people at all, and he doesn’t share much about himself.”
“Kind of a guy who keeps to himself?”
“Yeah. But…” Zack trailed off, thoughtful.
Cloud tilted her head, resting her chin on her knees. “But what?”
The lieutenant sat up and tapped her nose. “You’re like him.”
Cloud blinked. “Eh?”
“You keep to yourself. In all the time I’ve known you, you won’t let people get close—or even touch you. He’s the same way.”
“Oh.” Her voice was faint, dazed.
“Hey, kid, you okay?” Zack asked gently.
Cloud blinked, then smiled. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“All right. Go to bed.” Zack patted her head before climbing back to the top bunk and curling up with his back to her.
They were alike in many ways, yet opposite. Sephiroth lurked like a shadow, while Cloud was like the sun—shining, but always hiding behind clouds. Zack knew then they had to meet properly. If they did, they’d get along famously.
He lay awake a little longer, musing on Cloud’s fascination. It wasn’t an obsession; it was study—respect from a distance. And Sephiroth hadn’t rejected it; he seemed amused, even encouraging. That alone was unusual.
Sephiroth rarely smiled, yet with Zack, he sometimes did—dark humor, mischief slipping through. Tonight, though, Zack had seen another spark: the General’s interest in Cloud’s stance, in the way the kid moved unseen in the background.
Something Sephiroth had said nagged at him. The stance Cloud used—the Nibel stance—was practiced by women. Zack had heard of it only in myths: the legends of Valkyries. He shook the thought away, saving it for another time.
He concluded there was something unique tying the two together. Letting the thought drift, he allowed sleep to claim him.
Below him, Cloud was lost in her own musings. She remembered Sephiroth vanishing into the shadows after sparring. At that moment, she finally understood Zack’s words earlier.
“Yes. There you go. Sephiroth isn’t perfect, no matter how much he seems to be.”
“I knew that. No one can be perfect.”
“No one is, until you meet someone who’s perfect for you.” Zack’s words echoed, though he had been thinking of a green-eyed, russet-haired woman in Sector Five.
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, you’ll understand someday.”
Cloud hadn’t expected to understand so soon. To her, Sephiroth’s flaws were perfect. That realization frightened her. Feelings had taken root—dangerous, impossible feelings. She crushed them down, deciding they weren’t worth the risk to her life.
Notes:
This chapter was difficult to edit due to its numerous redundancies. I was pretty bad with that a long time ago... I hope I don't do that anymore... (cringes).
Chapter 3: [Saga I: The Academy] – The Valkyries of Nibel
Chapter Text
General Sephiroth sat in his office, drumming his fingers against the desk. His gaze lingered absently on the computer screen in the far corner, where the names and statistics of cadets and SOLDIERs scrolled in steady lines. Few had advanced to Class Two, and none to Class One.
The steady tapping of his fingers stopped. A moment later, the clack of keys filled the quiet office, followed by a series of electronic blips. The display shifted to a profile—blond hair, sharp blue eyes. A cadet whose name he had heard more than once.
Sephiroth leaned forward. Zack had tried several times to arrange an introduction, but missions and paperwork always intervened. At first, Sephiroth had dismissed the boy as unremarkable, yet something about him tugged at his attention. Even secondhand, the mention of the Nibel Fighting Stance had piqued his interest.
Two years had passed since Sephiroth first heard of him—a cadet intent on advancing through the program at his own pace. Zack often spoke of the boy during training sessions or sparring bouts, and Sephiroth had noticed how protective Zack had become. Despite his promotion to Class One, Zack still chose to remain in the dormitories, explaining once, “I’d rather keep him under my wing until he feels free to soar on his own. He needs some guidance, and I want to be there.”
Sephiroth respected that loyalty. He could also see, line by line, the evidence of Cloud Strife’s progress on the glowing screen. The cadet had compressed his first and second years of academic training into a single year and was already nearing the completion of his fifth. A bachelor’s degree in Mako Science was behind him, and he was now pursuing his master’s.
Physical training, martial arts, kendo, and strategy—Cloud excelled in all of them. Sephiroth’s frown deepened when he reached the section on current duty assignments. Cloud was serving as a guard in ShinRa Headquarters, a posting far beneath such talent.
“Why is he working a lowly job? He deserves better.” Sephiroth scrolled further, one eyebrow lifting as he read the designation aloud. “Class Three, Level One Sergeant. He should already be in Class Two by now. Why is he not?”
As if summoned by the question, the office door opened and Zack strolled in, humming.
“Hey General, what’s up?” Zack asked as he sat down in the chair opposite Sephiroth.
“Why is Strife in Class Three and working as a guard on the fourth level of ShinRa Headquarters?” Sephiroth asked. He quickly worked on the computer, pulling up past files.
Zack’s eyes widened as he leaned to look at the screen on the desk. “No idea. You’re serious?”
“It says here.” Sephiroth gestured toward the monitor. “Didn’t he tell you?” He returned to the screen and kept reading; his frown deepened as he scrolled further.
“No, he’s busy all the time and not under my legion anymore. He’s working under Lieutenant Stifer’s legion.”
“Lieutenant Stifer?” Sephiroth’s voice carried a razor’s edge. “That fool is unfit to guide anyone beyond mediocrity. Strife deserves better.” He exhaled and returned to the computer, clicking away at the keyboard. “Strife was never nominated for promotions. I’m going to change that, put him under your legion, and I want you to personally train him for Class One.”
“You think he should be in Class One?” Zack’s eyes widened further.
“Yes. He should be. I can’t do much unless he passes the tests to Class Two first. But he will have to be under your legion.” Sephiroth continued typing, changing data, and transferring Cloud’s files.
Zack slumped in his chair and flipped through the files he had brought with him. “He’s graduating in a few weeks with his Master. He said he wasn’t sure if he would get the Doctorate. If he does, he’ll have to work under Dr. Hojo for an apprenticeship, since he’s the only one pursuing a doctorate in Mako Science.”
“Has he had any Mako Treatment yet? It doesn’t say here,” Sephiroth asked, still focused on the computer.
Zack pursed his lips as he tapped his chin. “I don’t know of any. I only see him half the time now. I would have known if he got sick lately. No, I don’t think so.”
“Find out why he’s majoring in Mako Science. I think it has something to do with his past and with his being from Nibelheim. There is no record of his family or anything in the file.”
Zack nodded as he closed the folder and placed it in the completed assignment basket on Sephiroth’s desk. “He never talks about his past; he has a surviving mother in Nibelheim and is the only family member he has. Other than that, he has some problem with other recruits here on the compound. Reno informed me that there’s a group of SOLDIER from Nibelheim giving him trouble.”
Sephiroth nodded as he pushed himself away from the desk and faced Zack. “Cloud is being transferred to your legion. Sign up for your own apartment as soon as possible, because it will be down to you two at the barracks. Your other roommates are transferring to other legions soon, too. I believe one of them is going for Turks, am I right?”
“Yeah, Reno. Been training under Tseng lately.”
“Tseng? That’s a very high place in Turks.”
“Something like that. When are you going to be free?”
The silver-haired man waved his hand. “I’m busy. The only time would be the Ball. I have to attend.”
Zack smiled. “The Ball—good excuse to drag Cloud there. He skipped the last two years.”
“I noticed.” Sephiroth rose from his chair and moved to the shelves that lined his office walls, full of scrolls and books. He pulled a volume out and turned to Zack. “I’m finished for the day. I have to go see Dr. Hojo for an appointment.”
Zack wrinkled his nose. “Can’t get out of it?”
“No, or he will send the entire SOLDIER upon my ass, regardless of me being the General.”
The raven-haired man chuckled as he got up to follow Sephiroth out of the office. “What you got there?” He gestured to the book in Sephiroth’s hand.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to read this book for a while. Mythology of Nibel Mountain: The Valkyries of Nibelung.”
Zack took the book and read the title. “Valkyries of Nibelung. Too bad those women are myths. Be nice to meet one—hear they’re really beautiful.”
Sephiroth nodded mentally, adding, Like a certain person. Then he shook his head.
They parted from the building where Sephiroth’s office was, Zack heading toward the Knoll, a high grassy park near the library. He knew he would find Reno and the others there since it was lunchtime. Sephiroth went toward the vehicle hangar of the Fortress Compound to retrieve his transport for Midgar, where Doctor Hojo’s lab was. All the other recruits received their Mako Treatment at the Fortress Compound’s Medic Wing, unless they were required to be seen by Hojo himself.
Zack found Reno sitting on the grass with Rude and Elena.
“Hey, guys. Where’s Spikey?”
Reno shook his head, mumbling around a sandwich. “Dunno, he said he was going to be at the library today.”
“All right, what’s the grub on the menu today?” Zack dropped onto the grass.
Elena scowled. “Mystery Meat. Liver. That’s why we have this.” She tossed him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had made.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
“I know.” Elena laughed and bit into her own sandwich while Reno and Rude argued quietly about sports.
Zack munched on the sticky-sweet sandwich, his mind drifting. Valkyries of Nibelung? That’s right—Sephiroth had wanted to look into it since that night. An old mythology tied to Nibelheim. Why would it matter to Cloud? Suddenly, like a ball smacking him in the head, the thought struck. “Ow…” He tossed the ball back to a group of cadets playing tag-ball. Nibelheim! Cloud’s from there… but what does that have to do with him? He’s a guy… Zack frowned, frustrated that the sudden revelation led nowhere.
Reno nudged him in the ribs. “Look, there’s Cloud.”
They glanced up to see Cloud walking down the winding path, arms full of books, reading one after another.
“There he goes again, burying himself in schoolwork,” Reno muttered.
“Yeah, he’s working on his Master’s,” Zack said offhand.
Gasps came from the three, and they chorused in amazement, “Master’s!”
Zack laughed. “Amazing, eh?”
“How old is he?” Rude asked quietly, watching the blonde steer clear of a couple of cadets.
“Seventeen,” Zack answered, remembering it had been two years since Cloud came into their lives.
Reno frowned as he took the last bite of his sandwich. “He even got the book…”
Zack whipped his head toward him. “What book?”
Before Reno could answer, three men—bigger than Cloud—stepped into her path, blocking the way. Cloud closed her book with one hand, face stoic. The leader spoke, and Cloud replied with cool nonchalance. Zack rose from the grass, recognizing them as part of the Nibelheim gang that always harassed Cloud.
The leader moved forward threateningly, Cloud stepping back. At something crude, the man said, Cloud flinched. The other two laughed like hyenas, and Cloud nearly stumbled. Anger twisted her face as the man drew back his fist.
Zack charged in with his usual cheerful façade. “Hey, Cloud!”
All four heads turned. The three men backed off quickly, plastering on fake innocence. Cloud’s anger eased as she saw Zack approach.
The leader—Second Class Sergeant Lockhart—grinned. “Hey, Fair, just offering Strife some help with those books.”
Zack’s eyes narrowed dangerously, making the man flinch before forcing a smile. “Oh, thanks for trying to help. I’ll take it from here, since I needed to talk to Cadet Strife.” The three left without much fuss.
Cloud huffed, shifting the books in her arms. Zack grabbed a couple. “Never listen, do they?”
“No.” She scowled, avoiding his eyes.
“You know you can report them.”
“No.”
“That’s breaking regulations, you know.”
“I said no. I don’t care—I can handle them.”
Zack scowled. “Something’s going on, and it’s clear they’re bothering you. I’ll report them myself.”
Cloud’s eyes flashed. She snatched the books back. “Since when did you become my mother?” she snapped, storming away.
Zack rubbed the back of his neck, watching her go. “Gee… I’ve never.” The memory of Sephiroth’s rare temper flashed through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Me either,” said a voice at his side. Reno had joined him.
“You know the book I was talking about,” Reno went on. “It’s a box of chocolate—and you were holding it.”
“What?” Zack asked, baffled.
Reno chuckled, and the two returned to the grass. “Every month, he goes out with that book-box, every day for a week. Comes back with it, empty. Then he goes out and does it again.”
Zack blinked, finding it all pointless. “So he likes chocolate. Leave him alone.”
Reno waved a hand. “No, no—it’s for psychology class. Had to pick a subject to study and write up a report.” He waved his arms when Zack glared. “Anonymous! Totally anonymous! The teacher never knew it was him!”
Elena waved a cookie. “If Cloud were a woman, I’d say PMS. But no—he’s a guy, so it’s just weird.” She looked back at her cookie only to see it vanish—straight into Reno’s mouth. She scowled at him.
Zack buried his head in his hands and groaned. “You guys… I don’t know what’s worse, that Nibelheim gang or you.”
“At least we don’t mean him harm,” Rude said quietly.
The First Class shook a finger at them. “Stop this and find someone else to pester.”
“Maybe we’ll pester you next!” Reno called after him as Zack walked away.
Zack’s prediction was right; he found Cloud in their room, sitting at the desk as usual, nose buried in a book.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading,” the blonde replied without looking up.
“Reading what?” Zack asked as he dropped onto the bed, propping his boots on the frame. He craned his neck to see the title on the spine. “Cinderella?”
Cloud’s cheeks flushed pink. She quickly closed the book and set it on the desk. “Yeah. It’s one of my favorites. Found it in the library—this version’s a little different from the one I read before.”
Zack laughed and folded his arms behind his head. “Speaking of balls… are you going this year?”
“No.” The reply came sharp and immediate.
Zack groaned, throwing his hands up. “Man! The last two years, you didn’t even make an appearance! Well, as your superior, I’m commanding you to go.” He stopped mid-rant, his eyes flicking from Cloud to the book on the desk, then back again. Something clicked, the earlier jolt from that ball in the park echoing like a spark in his mind.
Cloud arched a brow. “You’re not my superior,” she deadpanned.
To her horror, Zack laughed. “Oh, but I am. Regulations, you know—you’ve broken enough of them already.” He got to his feet and began pacing, his tone playful but his eyes sharp. “You defied my order earlier. And now… I’ve just realized something.”
Cloud stiffened as he turned back, pinning her with his gaze.
“If you confess, I’ll overlook the rest. I’ll take care of you here at ShinRa.”
She blinked, feigning blankness. “Confess what?”
Zack stepped closer, and Cloud instinctively leaned back in her chair. He studied her a moment before sighing. “You’re good—too good.” Then, softening, he added, “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. But you’re going to the ball, one way or another.” He pulled her dress uniform from the trunk and laid it across the bed. “Wear this, or whatever you choose. Keep the secret too long, and someone else will figure it out. Tell me, and I’ll help you. You’re too good to lose over this.”
Cloud’s face went pale. “Yes, sir.”
Zack nodded. “By the way, you’re being transferred out of Stifer’s legion into mine—General’s orders.”
She gaped. “What the—?”
“After graduation, after the Ball, you’ll be taking your Class Two tests. Once you pass, the General wants you moved straight into training for First Class as soon as possible. Yeah, General’s orders too—just don’t let that out yet. I’d like to see Stifer piss around about that. He’s been dying to get to Class One for eternity.”
Cloud scowled and looked away. “I don’t want to.”
“If you love Cinderella, then you’ve got to go to the ball.”
“What does Cinderella have to do with anything?” she shot back.
“She went to the ball—so should you. Maybe you’ll find your prince or whatever,” Zack teased, tapping the book.
Cloud rolled her eyes, masking her nerves. “I’m not interested.”
Zack grinned at the faint flush creeping across her cheeks. “Ohhh, about a certain someone…”
“No! No, no, no, no! I am not hearing this!” Cloud slapped her hands over her ears while Zack laughed.
“All right, all right. Just go.”
“I still don’t want to go to the stupid ball.”
“You’re going, and that’s final,” Zack said, voice dropping into firm command. Then, gentler, “However you want to go, no one will know who you are.” With that, he left the room.
Cloud slumped back in defeat. Zack would drag her there regardless, kicking and screaming if he had to. She opened the book again, staring at the picture of Cinderella in her gown. Maybe he was right. She could go as herself, and no one would notice. Quietly, she decided she’d slip into the city mall that weekend to find something to wear.
In the hallway, Zack leaned against the wall. He knew the truth now: Cloud wasn’t a boy, but a girl—and she wasn’t ready to admit it.
So much like Sephiroth, yet different. Both guarded, both distant. He cared for her, worried about her future. And Sephiroth… Sephiroth was getting too close to the truth, even without meeting her.
Shaking his head, Zack stepped outside into the late light, muttering, “A box of chocolate… geesh.” Then he glanced toward the sky with a smile. “Saturday, I’ll personally make sure you go to the ball.”
At Headquarters deep in Midgar, Sephiroth tried to make himself comfortable in the battered dental chair. Tubes ran from the stand beside him, one feeding the green-glowing substance of Mako into his arm. He shifted against the cracked leather, a book balanced in his hand: The Valkyries of Nibelung. Feeling the usual wave of dizziness that came with treatment, he pressed on, eyes moving down the page.
“In elder days, it was told that Nibelheim was the dwelling of the Nibelung, who kept their vigil at the foot of Mount Nibel, standing watch before the mountain’s gate. They were named the Children of Mist, born not of the Cetra nor of the Calamities of the Sky, but of the Ancient race of Gaia herself. While the elder races waged their wars for five centuries uncounted, the Nibelung remained unseen. Hidden within the veils of cloud and stone, they endured, guarding the heart of the Planet.
They called themselves Valkyries, and by oath eternal swore to defend Gaia from all who would profane her. Most were women—fair of hair and eye, their beauty terrible and unearthly. A few bore differing hues, yet all shared the gifts of their line: the strength of their mothers, the wisdom of their fathers, and the skills of every ancestor added unto them, that each generation rose greater than the last.
Of men, there were but a few. The first was Odin, lord of the mountain, son of Alexander the Judge and true son of Gaia, brother to the first Valkyrie, Jenova. In later days, others were born, and their names are kept in the records: Michael, Gabriel, Raziel, Uriel, Ramiel, Sariel, Metatron, Jophiel, Anael, Jeduhiel, Simael, Haniel, and Luciael. In all, fifteen men named themselves sons of the Valkyries. Yet the scrolls foretell a sixteenth, whose name is withheld—for he is the one prophesied.”
Sephiroth’s eyebrow arched as he read on. Odin and Alexander are both rare Summon Materia. But the others? Thirteen left unaccounted for… Could they be?
A nurse approached quietly, changing out the bag of glowing liquid. “Sorry, sir. The Doctor ordered extra doses. Please let us know if you feel anything out of the ordinary.”
Sephiroth answered only with a glacial look. She blanched and hurried out, leaving him to his reading. His thoughts drifted: This Strife kid… from Nibelheim. Yellow hair. Blue eyes. It can’t be. Myths, nothing more. And yet… there’s still the unnamed one.
“Reading mythology, eh?”
The oily voice drew his eyes upward. “Doctor Hojo.”
The man slithered into the room, gaze flicking to the Mako bag feeding into Sephiroth’s veins. “How is it coming?” He tapped the side of the bag with long, bony fingers, then nodded at the book.
“The book, or the treatment?” Sephiroth asked flatly.
“Either.” Hojo smoothed back his lank black hair.
“Book’s interesting. Treatment’s fine.”
“Interesting.” Hojo plucked at the book’s spine with a bony hand. “Valkyries. Romantic nonsense. They never existed.”
Sephiroth’s silence was sharper than words.
“Even the Cetra. Calamities of the Sky. Whatever they call themselves. All foolish. Worthless. You shouldn’t waste your time on myths.”
“I’ll read whatever I want, Doctor Hojo.” Sephiroth ground the title against his teeth, making it clear the conversation was finished.
“You’re free to go after this bag,” Hojo replied airily, and slipped out.
Sephiroth rolled his eyes and turned back to the book.
Chapter Text
Reno found Zack in the dojo at the end of his kendo class. He waited as the older man finished cleaning the room before approaching him by the lockers. Zack greeted him with a wave.
“Hey, what brings you here?” Zack asked as he gathered up his gear to put away in the storage room. “You don’t usually show up unless you need something.”
Reno rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “You’re always right. I need to talk to ya about Cloud. I found out some things.”
Zack’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like it when Turks stuck their noses where they didn’t belong—but then again, that was their specialty. He pushed into the locker room and headed for the showers, Reno trailing him. “What things?”
Reno paused at the low wall that separated the showers from the lockers, resting his arms on it. “Some of my contacts dug into why the Nibelheim gang’s got beef with our Cloud.” He smirked as Zack rolled his eyes and turned on the water.
Zack ducked under the spray, scrubbing shampoo through his hair. Since stumbling on Cloud’s secret, he’d suspected the gang’s motives. He’d just hoped Reno wouldn’t get close enough to piece it together.
“What did you find out?” he asked, rinsing off.
Reno shrugged. “They’ve been harassing Cloud since they were kids. Lockhart’s got a personal grudge—something about his sister getting hurt—and he pins it on Cloud. I don’t have the whole story, but it runs deep.” He sighed. “They called him a freak.”
And there it is. Zack grimaced, reaching for the soap. “A freak? How? He’s smart, adaptable, sure—but that’s not freakish.”
Reno tossed him a towel. “That’s part of it. But one of the gang mentioned Nibelheim’s old history—something about Nibelung myths.”
Zack raised an eyebrow as he dried off. Too close. “Just myths,” he said flatly.
“I agree. But you know how superstitious the people there are. They put stock in those old stories.”
Zack hummed as he pulled on his shirt and socks.
Reno eyed him, squinting. “You know something.”
Zack chuckled. “You’re perceptive.”
“Give.”
Zack shrugged, deciding to throw him off. “It’s just the Valkyrie myths. You remember that from history class.”
“Yeah.” Reno nodded slowly. “Valkyries—the goddess-like women who guarded Mount Nibel?”
“Exactly. Pale, golden-haired, blue-eyed. Traits you don’t see often.”
Reno frowned, then his eyes went wide. “Cloud. Blond, blue eyes… Damn. That’s why they’re riding him?” He groaned. “Over his looks? That’s messed up.”
Zack shut his locker with a clang. “Whack reason, yeah. Anything else?”
Reno scrambled off the bench to follow him out. “Some background. Cloud’s parents weren’t from Nibelheim. His old man was a ShinRa mako scientist stationed at the Nibel Reactor; he died in an accident around the start of the Wutai War. His mom stayed, but the town never accepted her. People said she scared them. Files didn’t have much more—dead end.”
Zack stopped short, making Reno bump into him. He gripped the redhead’s shoulder, voice firm. “Reno, stop digging into Cloud’s past. If he wants to talk about it, he will. Leave it. As for the Nibelheim gang—I’ll bring it up to General Sephiroth.”
Reno blinked. “General Sephiroth? Come on, isn’t that a little much?”
“Not when the General’s already got plans for him. I’ve got orders to move into an apartment and take Cloud with me.”
“Shit!” Reno sputtered. “The kid’s getting trained for Class One?”
“Something like that.”
“Knew he was good, but not that good. Damn.”
Zack gave him a sidelong look. “I hear you and Rude got into the Turks.”
Reno smirked. “Yeah. After the Ball, we’re in. Elena’s being scouted too, but she’ll need a couple years. We’ll help her train. She’s good in sports, but combat? Total klutz.”
“Yeah?” Zack held the door open. “You’d all be solid in SOLDIER, but Turks suit you. Any date for the Ball?”
Reno shook his head. “Wanted to ask Elena, but she’s already taken.”
“By who?” Zack asked, following him up the stairs. “I figured she’d end up with you or Rude.”
Reno chuckled. “It’s Tseng.” He grinned at Zack’s choking gasp. “Swear I don’t know how it happened. Tseng never seemed the dating type, but Elena’s had a crush forever.”
Zack laughed. “Better luck next time, huh?”
Reno shrugged. “Guess so.”
They found Cloud in the dorm room as usual—reading, studying, and humming a soft tune neither Zack nor Reno recognized.
Zack leaned toward Reno. “Anything else I should know?”
Reno leaned against the doorway, eyes on the kid. “Nope. Good luck digging into his past.”
Zack waved him off and flopped onto the bed beside the desk, grinning. “Cloud, you’ve graduated. Why are you still buried in books?”
Cloud stopped humming, smirking as she lobbed a crumpled paper ball at him. “Not studying. Just browsing Doctorate requirements, deciding if I should bother.”
Zack shot up so fast he cracked his head on the bunk above. He yelped, while Cloud and Reno burst out laughing. “Ow! Shut up, both of you!” He rubbed his head, scowling. “Why a Doctorate? If you go that route, you’ll barely see SOLDIER. We need you.”
Cloud’s smile softened. “I was just looking. I don’t think I’ll go for it.” She held up a brochure. “You have to apprentice under someone in the field.” She grimaced. “And there’s only one.”
“Hojo.” Zack flopped back on the bed with a groan. “Yeah, he’s creepy.”
Cloud nodded. “Exactly. I’d rather stick with SOLDIER. It’s more fun.”
Zack chuckled. “Thought so. You’ve got the talent for it. Who knows? You could be the next General.”
Cloud shook her head. “Not likely. You’ll be a General long before I ever would.”
Zack shrugged. “Guess we’ll dream on.”
Reno snorted. “Speaking of dreams, I gotta meet Rude.” He slipped to the door, throwing Zack a pointed look and mouthing, Find out more and tell me later.
Zack tossed the paper ball at him as he left, then turned back to Cloud, watching her stack papers. “So why Mako Science? Really.”
Cloud hesitated, lips pursed. “I guess… I liked it?”
Zack shook his head, grinning. “That can’t be it. It’s one of the hardest, most boring fields in the program. There’s gotta be another reason.”
Cloud leaned back in her chair. “My father was a ShinRa scientist. Mako research. I guess I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Maybe.”
“Yeah?” Zack sat up straighter. “Was he around during the Wutai War?”
Cloud shook her head. “No. He died right around the time it started. Reactor accident up on Mt. Nibel.”
Zack winced. “Damn. So it’s been just you and your mom ever since?”
“Yeah. We lived on the path leading to the mountain, away from the rest of town. Near the old Manor.”
Zack’s brows lifted. “The ShinRa Mansion?”
Cloud nodded. “That’s the one. I was always told to stay away—too creepy. But… someday, if I ever go back, I’d like to see what’s inside. I’ve always had a feeling something’s hidden there.”
“Something’s there, all right. It’s where Hojo holes up whenever he disappears.” Zack grimaced. “Don’t know if he’s been around lately.”
“I don’t plan to ask.”
They chuckled, the tension easing, and their talk drifted toward Cloud’s future training—preparing for Class Two, and eventually, Class One.
The day of the Ball crept up on everyone—everyone except Cloud. For her, the week had dragged unbearably, each day lost in stacks of papers and books. She had already graduated, yet still worked through final projects out of habit. Even the sample assignments for a Doctorate she no longer intended to pursue lay scattered across her desk.
The door slammed open, and Cloud jumped, wide-eyed. Her breath caught when she saw Zack in the doorway, dressed in his full Class One formal uniform, katana gleaming at his hip, a severe look on his face.
Her frown deepened. “It’s Saturday?”
“To the shower. Now!” The sharp order cracked like a whip. Instinct took over—she shot to her feet and saluted before bolting into the bathroom, door slamming behind her.
Zack smirked as he strode into the room. Propping open her trunk with his polished boot, he lifted the neatly pressed formal uniform, smoothing the fabric with deliberate care. The black, spit-shined boots came next. As he worked, the sound of running water cut off in the bathroom. Something white at the bottom of the trunk caught his eye. He pulled out a box, flipped it open, and smiled. So that’s her plan.
Box in hand, he called toward the bathroom. “Cloud. Come out. We need to talk.”
The door cracked open, her damp head peeking through. “Zack?”
“Come out.” His voice softened, but the edge of command lingered. He lifted the box slightly. “I know.”
Her eyes widened, and the door clicked shut again. Moments later, she stepped out wrapped in a towel.
Zack forced his face into neutrality, though it took effort. Without the bindings or uniform to hide her, Cloud looked utterly transformed. Damp hair clung to her face, the towel pressed tight to her chest, bare legs revealed for the first time. She wasn’t the spiky-haired cadet he’d known anymore—she was a striking young woman.
Cloud stared down at her feet, voice small. “Am I going to be expelled?”
“No.” His tone gentled. “I figured it out last time we spoke. No one else knows—and after tonight, no one will.” He held out the box. “I can see what you’re planning. You’ll need a date.” A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Cloud’s head jerked up, startled. “Really?”
“Yeah. Officers are allowed to bring outsiders as dates. I don’t have one this year—my girlfriend couldn’t make it.” He sighed, then met her gaze. “You deserve to be yourself—if only for one night.”
She took the box carefully, staring at it before a shy smile touched her lips. Wordlessly, she slipped back into the bathroom.
Staring at the door after it closed, Zack finally understood. Cloud’s insistence on privacy—always dressing alone, never showering with the others—suddenly made sense. He remembered the time Reno had barged into the bathroom, mistaking it for Phil. Cloud’s ear-splitting shriek had cracked the mirror, and Reno had stumbled out crab-legged, clutching his ringing ears. All he’d seen was steam. Zack had once wondered how a young cadet could hit that pitch. Now he knew. He chuckled at the memory and turned back to the task at hand.
He laid her SOLDIER formal out on the bed—though it wouldn’t be worn tonight, and set the issued ceremonial katana beside it. “Pity it won’t be used,” he muttered.
The bathroom door opened a few minutes later, and Cloud stepped out. Zack’s jaw went slack. She wore a pale blue gown with a fitted corset bodice, delicate lace edging along the neckline, and a flowing skirt layered with a draped overskirt. Her damp hair hung loose around her face, and she smiled at him shyly.
She’s beautiful… otherworldly. If the legends were true, I could almost believe she carried Valkyrie blood, Zack thought, momentarily undone.
Cloud fingered her hair uncertainly, a comb in hand. “I don’t know what to do with this. It’ll just stick up.”
“Here,” Zack said gently, taking the comb. He stepped behind her, gathering her short hair into a neat ponytail, twisting it into a simple bun, and leaving soft strands to frame her face. Moving back around to meet her eyes, he gave an approving nod. “There. You’re very beautiful. No one would ever connect you to SOLDIER Strife.” The contrast was jarring.
“Think this is okay?” she asked, tugging lightly at the gown before slipping into white slippers and pulling on long gloves.
Zack fastened a pale blue velvet choker around her neck, grinning. “It’s perfect. Suits you.”
Her cheeks colored. “Thank you.”
“Beautiful,” he said simply, tilting her chin up. His voice softened. “Thank you for trusting me with your secret. You’re more than a comrade—you’re my soul-sister.” His laughter faded into something steadier. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her eyes brimmed, but she smiled through them, wiping one away. “Thank you, Zack. Just for tonight, right?”
“Just tonight. Be true to yourself.” He wrapped a shawl gently around her bare shoulders.
“So, that’s it?” she asked.
“Not quite.” Zack pulled a small pin from his pocket and gestured to the uniform laid out on the bed. “This.” He affixed the diamond insignia to the collar. “Congratulations. You’re officially Class Two SOLDIER.”
Cloud gasped softly.
Zack straightened, smiling. “As your superior, I probably shouldn’t say it early—but come Monday, you’re under my orders.” He shrugged playfully. “Shame you can’t show it off tonight.”
Cloud laughed faintly. “Thank you. SOLDIER Cloud Strife is off duty.”
“Don’t thank me. Sephiroth made the call—you passed your tests with flying colors. He wants you working toward Class One.” Zack offered his arm.
Her eyes widened as she slipped her hand into his, and together they stepped out of the room.
Zack and Cloud took a jeep from the fortress compound through the underground tunnel to ShinRa Headquarters, buried deep in the heart of Midgar.
Upon arriving, Zack guided her into the elevator, and they rode toward the upper floors where the grand ballroom was located, just below the presidential offices. Cloud stood by the glass wall, gazing out over the sprawling city as the elevator climbed. It stopped several times to admit more passengers. She turned to Zack, noting how striking he looked in his Class One uniform—nearly all black, with the long knee-length jacket trimmed in deep royal blue. The insignia on his collar gleamed like polished silver. He looked every bit the elite SOLDIER. She smiled when he caught her watching.
At last, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, revealing a ballroom awash in dazzling light. Cloud gasped. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above the polished floor, and the vast chamber was filled with uniforms, gowns, and glittering jewels. SOLDIERs of every rank mingled with Turks, executives, and ShinRa dignitaries. Nearly all the women wore elegant evening gowns, their silks and satins in sharp contrast to the uniforms.
She stared in awe until Zack touched her arm, gently leading her forward. “Welcome to the ShinRa Winter Ball,” he said with a smile. Then his brow creased. “I can’t call you Cloud tonight, right?”
Cloud blinked, remembering. “Oh. My name is Cloud Sorano Strife… you can use Sorano.”
“Sorano,” Zack repeated warmly. “Lovely.” He led her further inside, nodding and waving as acquaintances greeted him.
Cloud tugged nervously at her gloves. “Oh gee…” she muttered, acutely aware of the glances following her.
“You’re lovely,” Zack said matter-of-factly. “They’re staring because they’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”
“Stop,” Cloud whispered, flustered.
Zack only laughed. “Come on, let’s see if anyone’s bold enough to ask you for a dance. Though I think plenty will.”
Before she could argue, he swept her into a quick step across the floor, explaining the traditions of the Ball as the music carried them. She tried to listen, but the rhythm and the whirl of dancers pulled her in. She laughed as Zack teased her, spinning her out and pulling her back in with practiced ease. He spoke of something called the Ring of Dance, but only half of it reached her through the rush of movement and music.
When the song ended, Zack bowed with a grin. Cloud, catching on, curtsied quickly, as did the other women on the floor. She glanced toward the buffet tables, where clusters of women whispered behind fans and cast pointed looks her way.
“They think you’re the Cinderella of the ball,” Zack teased.
“No,” Cloud protested. “I’m not here to find a prince. I’m your date, remember?”
Zack’s gaze shifted across the crowd, and his grin widened. Cloud rose on her toes to see what had caught his attention—then froze. Across the ballroom, framed by space as if no one dared come too near, stood General Sephiroth.
Her stomach flipped. Zack had been trying to arrange this introduction for weeks, and now—
Zack glanced back at her, noting her expression of shock and horror. He smirked. “I think you’re wrong. I’ve found your prince.”
Cloud’s cheeks flamed. “No!” she sputtered, fumbling with her gloves as the blush deepened to crimson.
Zack chuckled softly. “Would you like to dance with your prince?”
Her answer was to whirl around on her heel and stalk off toward the buffet, leaving Zack grinning behind her.
The raven-haired man shook his head with a smile and shouldered his way through the crowd toward the General. As always, Sephiroth stood apart—an island of space no one dared to enter—radiating the silent command to be left alone. He looked every bit as intimidating in formal dress as he did in battle. His attire differed little from his usual: black from collar to boot, a dark grey turtleneck beneath a trench-length jacket, the only changes being the absence of shoulder guards and the presence of the six-foot Masamune sheathed at his hip.
Sephiroth inclined his head in the barest acknowledgment, a subtle invitation for Zack to approach. He sipped a tall flute of champagne.
“General Sephiroth.” Zack snapped a salute, then relaxed when the General returned it with a curt nod and a stoic, “Zack.”
Zack ignored the ice-cold stare. He’d long since learned that in public, Sephiroth played the part of the unfeeling war god, especially at the social circuses President ShinRa forced him to attend. Grinning, Zack leaned in. “Having fun yet?”
A faint glare. “Do I look as though I am?”
“I don’t know. Your idea of fun’s still a mystery to me.”
The corner of Sephiroth’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “My idea of fun is to massacre this room.”
Zack’s eyes went wide. “Then give me five minutes to pick who I’d like spared from your bloodthirsty blade.” His gaze flicked warily to the enormous sword at Sephiroth’s hip.
A low chuckle. “Mm. You said you were dragging the kid here. I don’t see him.”
Zack rolled his eyes. “He bailed. But I did bring a date—my little sister…” He glanced toward the buffet table where the blonde had been a moment before and cursed under his breath. “Damn it, she’s gone again.”
Still sipping, Sephiroth’s brow rose. “Little sister? I was under the impression you were an only child. Gongaga, wasn’t it?”
Zack’s frown melted into a grin. “You’re right. She’s not blood. Just a friend, more like family. I figured she’d enjoy herself tonight—and maybe you’d like her too. Short, shy, pretty. Blond hair, blue eyes. Don’t think there’s anyone else like that.”
“I suppose not.” Sephiroth’s brows knit faintly at the description. It had to be a coincidence.
“So,” Zack prodded, “you going to join the Ring of Dance?”
The glare he got in reply could have frozen mako. Zack threw up his hands. “Right, not your style.”
“General Sephiroth! You are going to be in that Ring of Dance!”
Both men turned. President ShinRa strode toward them with predatory amusement in his eyes. Both Zack and Sephiroth groaned inwardly. They knew that look—another scheme to humiliate his finest SOLDIERs.
“President ShinRa, I don’t—”
The President cut him off with a raised hand, wagging it in Sephiroth’s face. The General’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing with the urge to cut the offending limb off at the wrist.
“You are going to dance, that’s final. Or I’ll pull your rank.”
“Yes, sir.” Sephiroth inclined his head, the picture of obedience, though Zack caught the venom beneath it.
“Ooh…” Zack muttered, wisely averting his eyes.
Sephiroth set his glass on a passing tray and turned to leave, but not before smacking the back of Zack’s head in passing. “He will never pull my rank.”
“Oww!” Zack yelped, rubbing the spot as he watched the General stride away. The crowd parted before him. Shaking his head with a grin, Zack scanned the ballroom until he spotted a familiar flash of blond hair. Cloud—or Sorano, tonight—was ringed by a gaggle of cadets, looking utterly overwhelmed.
“There you are, Sorano!” Zack cut in smoothly, flashing the young women his trademark smile. “Excuse me, ladies. I’m stealing this one.”
Cloud let out a breath of relief as Zack pulled her free from the circle of giggling cadets. “Zack… thanks,” she whispered as he steered her toward the center of the room.
The crowd shifted, gathering in formation. She spotted the General standing off to one side, alone as always, and then noticed something strange—none of the SOLDIERs around her carried their weapons. Even Sephiroth’s Masamune was missing.
Zack unbuckled the katana from his belt and set it aside with a grin. “Let’s put this away for now.”
“What’s going on?” Cloud asked, just before Zack spun her into place beside two strangers. SOLDIERs formed two concentric circles, lining up in neat rows.
Zack grinned. “We’re joining the Ring of Dance. Don’t worry, I’ll explain.”
He quickly outlined the tradition: two circles facing each other, hands linked side by side. When the music began, the outer ring stepped left, the inner ring right, moving in time as the tempo quickened. When the music stopped, so did the dancers—whoever stood opposite became your partner for the next song. Gender didn’t matter; it was all part of the fun. The game runs six songs—three dances in all, with the last one slow and romantic. SOLDIERs often joked when paired with comrades, especially about who ended up leading.
“Zack…” Cloud’s voice dropped into a whine as her eyes darted toward the nearest exit.
But Zack’s grip was firm. “Relax. It’s fun. Who knows—maybe you’ll meet the prince of your dreams.”
Her horrified look only widened as two men beside her caught her hands, smiling reassuringly. Across from her, another woman winked playfully. Groaning inwardly, Cloud swore she’d make Zack pay for this later.
The music struck up, and the line lurched into motion. “Come on, it’s easy—just follow me,” the man to her right urged, pulling her along.
Soon the two circles spun in opposite directions, feet falling into a steady rhythm as the tempo climbed. Laughter and shouts filled the ballroom. Faster and faster the dancers moved until Cloud’s head spun. Despite herself, she began to laugh, caught up in the whirlwind of steps and voices.
Abruptly, the music slowed. The circles stilled, leaving her facing whoever fate had chosen. Around her, the silence broke into cheers, teasing, and good-natured ribbing. She caught whispers: the General had finally been swept into the game—and, for once, with a girl rather than another comrade.
A snicker escaped her at the thought. She turned to see who stood before her.
Her breath caught. “Oh…” she gaped, eyes going wide at her new partner.
Notes:
As the story was one of my earliest projects, a “baby story” I carried with me for over 25 years. It shaped not only my writing but also my identity as an author. That’s why my username is Cloud_Sorano—a name born from this project and the character who has been with me through so many years.
Chapter Text
After leaving Zack behind, still rubbing his sore head, Sephiroth strode toward the center of the ballroom where the lines for the dance were forming. Seething inwardly and quietly plotting the President’s demise, he took his place with the stiff precision of a soldier reporting for duty.
Two hands slipped into his, and he glanced down to find women on either side of him, gazing up in breathless awe. Both wore vivid red gowns, their grip eager. He was silently grateful for the barrier of his gloves.
The music swelled, and the circles began to turn. Sephiroth followed the woman on his left, mimicking her steps until the pattern settled into instinct. He committed one more note to memory: never again would he allow himself to attend a social trap that left him this exposed—President’s orders or not.
His movements flowed with flawless control, every pivot and step infused with the same balance that guided him in battle. Around the circle, flashes of familiar faces swept past—Zack grinning as always, a handful of officers from his own division. And then, through the blur of shifting color, something unusual caught his eye: a shock of bright, Chocobo-yellow hair. Uncommon, unnatural.
A cadet, perhaps. Yet the image lingered. Against his will, his mind flickered back to the Valkyries of Nibelung—the very myths he had been researching of late.
The music ended, and a ripple of commotion swept the room. Sephiroth dreaded the next part: the paired dance with whoever fate had set before him. He blinked, registering that his partner was short, nearly a head and a half below him. His gaze dropped, and he masked the flicker of surprise. A young woman. One he had never seen before.
She looked shy, almost demure, with golden hair gathered in a small bun and eyes of startling sapphire. The Valkyries returned to his thoughts unbidden as he studied her. She wore a pale blue gown that matched her coloring, making her seem almost unreal. This must be the ‘sister’ Zack mentioned.
Their eyes met, and something inside him stuttered. His pulse quickened, and a strange, unfamiliar warmth unfurled in his chest. Innocence and light radiated from her in a way that struck him as impossible. No makeup, no affectation—just the soft glow of her skin, her wide, unguarded eyes. She looked at him with horror first, then denial, as if searching for a way out. Most women clung to him, desperate for his notice. But this one blushed furiously, eyes darting everywhere but his.
The music swelled again. Sephiroth bowed with formal grace and extended his hand. “Shall we?”
“Whoo!” Zack’s voice cut through, and Sephiroth glanced up to see him whirl past with a laughing woman in his arms. His eyes widened at the sight of Sephiroth’s partner, then he winked before spinning away.
Sephiroth sighed and felt a soft hand slip into his. “Why the hell not?” the golden-haired woman murmured, her other hand hesitating before settling near his elbow—she was far too short to reach his shoulder.
A strange urge to smile tugged at him. He placed a guiding hand at her waist and led her into the dance. Her eyes stayed stubbornly on his chest, so he broke the silence. “So fate chooses you. You must be the one Zack called his sister.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered softly.
He eased his voice. “I’m not one for formality. You know my name.”
“Yes. General Sephiroth.”
“Then, while we dance, you may use it. We share a friend, after all. And I’ve not been told yours.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she finally looked up, just enough. “Sorano.”
He let the name roll on his tongue. “Of the sky. Fitting.” The meaning settled into him, deep and oddly familiar, as if he’d spoken it before in another life. They moved together with effortless harmony, her steps aligning perfectly with his. The folds of her gown whispered around their ankles, making them appear to glide.
Wanting to hear her voice again, he asked lightly, “Zack never mentioned you. He spoke often of his friend Cloud Strife. Do you know him?”
“Yes. He is… my twin brother. He told me you were responsible for his advancement. Thank you.”
Sephiroth faltered for half a beat. Twin? That wasn’t in any file. “I didn’t know Strife had a sister. Records list only his mother.” He didn’t press, but the explanation sat uneasily with him. Records could be falsified; secrets buried. He’d confirm it later.
She shrugged faintly. “You could say I’m a family secret. My hometown made life hard for my mother and me. I wouldn’t be on record.” Her tone closed the subject with quiet finality.
Pieces fell into place in his mind—Nibelheim, the myths, Zack’s insistence, the aura she carried. Perhaps the old tales weren’t just tales.
Her eyes caught his again, and for a fleeting moment, he felt something impossible—comfort. The purity in them rivaled the sky itself, a serenity he’d never known in Midgar, nor within ShinRa’s walls. He felt… at home.
The music ended too soon. Regret pulled at him as she slipped away quickly, vanishing back into the forming circle. He returned mechanically to his place, face stern, but his mind burned with the memory of her sapphire gaze. He searched for her golden head in the blur of dancers, scowling inwardly. Why had she unsettled him so?
There was more to Sorano than met the eye. Something rare. Something precious.
As the dance slowed before the next turn, Sephiroth glimpsed Sorano across the opposite circle. For a fleeting instant, he thought she smiled at him.
The music ended, and the world seemed to still as he found his new partner directly before him. His own surprise mirrored hers.
“Sorano.”
Cloud’s mouth formed an “O.” She swallowed hard. “Who’d have thought?”
Sephiroth’s lips curved faintly as he bowed, offering his hand. “Shall I have this dance… again?”
Cloud’s smile was soft, shy. Without words, she placed her hand in his, and once more they moved together across the floor. To her amazement, the stoic General seemed to open up, offering small laughter and unexpected kindness—rare glimpses of a side few ever saw. And though she tried to deny it, the attraction stirring in her grew stronger.
Not far away, Zack was in his element, sweeping a new partner across the floor, cracking jokes, his grin flashing. The first woman had been mischievous; this one was bolder, talkative. His easy charm matched either. Yet part of his mind drifted, amused at the thought of Sephiroth dancing with Cloud not once but twice. Fate? He caught flashes of silver hair, tall and unmistakable, moving with the poise of someone born to command. Curious, Zack steered his partner closer for a better look.
Sephiroth danced with flawless grace—of course, he did. But what startled Zack was the partner: small, golden-haired, keeping perfect pace as though she had always belonged at his side. His eyes widened. “Cloud?”
“What about clouds?” his partner asked innocently.
Zack pasted on a bright smile. “Never mind.” Inside, though, he was already plotting how mercilessly he’d tease Cloud later for pulling off not one but two dances with the General.
Meanwhile, Cloud let herself be carried by Sephiroth’s lead again. This dance was quieter, more intimate, each silently admiring the other without daring to voice it. She risked a glance upward, studying him closely. His features were sharp, sculpted—an aristocrat’s nose, curved lips that could look cruel but softened when he chose, lashes so dark they cast shadows over his brilliant, catlike eyes. His skin was flawless, pale bronze stretched over fine bone.
She lingered on his eyes—icy jade, piercing and endless. A shiver ran through her as she felt she could drown in them, trapped forever in green depths that were paradoxically both chilling and comforting. Familiar, somehow, like a dream she couldn’t quite recall.
The song ended too soon. Sephiroth bowed, silver bangs falling forward to shadow his face, and in that veil Cloud caught something startling: a genuine smile. Then the moment ended, and they parted to rejoin the circle for the final dance.
Cloud slipped back into line, pulse racing. To her shock, she found herself wanting—aching—for another turn with him. She forced the thought down. Odds were slim anyway. Best not to think on it.
Her musings were shattered when a warm hand squeezed hers too firmly. She looked up to see Zack, laughter already dancing in his eyes.
“What?” she hissed.
Zack only chuckled, flashing a knowing grin. “Two times in a row… That’s something.”
Heat flooded her face again. “Shut up.”
“Come on, you know the saying,” Zack teased. “If someone ends up with the same partner three times in a row, it’s fate!”
Cloud’s head snapped toward him, voice sharp with panic. “What does that have to do with me? I’m supposed to be Sorano, remember? Just for tonight. One night.”
Zack shrugged, his grin wide. “Still counts.”
She tried to yank her hand away, but the circle had already begun moving again. If she pulled free, the entire formation would collapse like dominoes, and humiliation wasn’t worth it.
Zack leaned closer, his tone still playful. “Have to admit, though—you two danced better than anyone else on the floor.”
Cloud scowled. “So what if I can dance?”
Zack only laughed harder, hollering with delight as the pace quickened. Others joined in, the ballroom echoing with cheers and stamping feet. The music thundered with bass, rattling the chandeliers, before cutting off abruptly.
The lights dimmed. A hush swept the hall as the next melody began—soft, slow, romantic. A few groans and giggles rippled through the rings.
Cloud groaned too, bracing herself. She turned to see who her partner would be—and froze. Her eyes went wide in disbelief.
Across the circle, Zack caught sight of her partner at the same moment. His jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing like a fish before he finally managed a stammer, then a smirk. “Ooh…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Third time in a row?”
Cloud and Sephiroth both shot Zack identical glares. He only grinned, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before turning back to find his final partner. When the circle shifted, he ended up facing a man. Zack barked a laugh.
With exaggerated flourish, he bowed low. “Hi there! I’m Zack. What’s your name?”
The man faltered, clearly not expecting theatrics, then rolled his eyes. “Rory.”
Zack clasped his hand with mock gravity, and the two waltzed off in a comical saunter, laughing the whole way.
Sephiroth, however, turned back to Cloud. His jade eyes softened as he extended his hand again with formality. “Last dance. May I?”
Cloud placed her hand in his, trying not to notice how steady and warm his grip was. “I suppose… why not?” She let him draw her close, her pulse hammering in her chest. “Still, this feels… weird.”
Sephiroth tilted his head. “Weird?”
She flushed, glancing away. “Third time in a row. Zack said something about that.”
“Ah.” A faint curve touched his lips. “Old superstition. Three dances with the same partner, and you’re destined for one another.” His raised brow and roguish smile sent her heart into another tumble.
Cloud’s gaze darted toward the floor, cheeks pink. In the back of her mind, she could almost hear Zack’s teasing voice: You’re getting way too comfortable with the General.
She cleared her throat. “You’ve done this before?”
“The game?” His eyes glinted faintly as he shook his head. “No.”
Her curiosity slipped out before she could stop it. “Why now?”
For a beat, his smile faded. She worried she’d overstepped, but then his voice came low and even. “The President insisted.”
Her brows rose. “And if you’d refused?”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, surprising even him. He glanced down at the golden-haired young woman in his arms and realized, with mild astonishment, that she’d managed to slip past his defenses. Instead of irritation, the sensation was… comforting. “He’d threaten to pull my rank.”
Cloud winced sympathetically. “Ouch.” She offered a small smile as he spun her in an elegant turn, skirts flaring around their ankles like pale blue waves.
Zack glanced over his shoulder and found the two talking as if they had known each other for years. The sight eased him—Cloud wasn’t withdrawn as she so often was. Something about the General, he thought, drew her out. Curious, Zack promised himself he’d figure it out. Soon. With a wince at the headache creeping in from overthinking, he turned back to laugh at one of Rory’s jokes.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” Sephiroth asked, steering the conversation forward. He wasn’t one for long exchanges, yet with Sorano, he found himself wanting to talk, to listen, to linger.
Cloud bit her lower lip as she thought, a gesture almost comically endearing. “My mother taught me, a long time ago.”
He smirked faintly. “Then I presume she must be an excellent dancer.”
“Yeah,” Cloud said with a small nod. “I’d like to think so too.”
They twirled across the floor in perfect rhythm. Sephiroth’s gaze flicked toward the open French doors leading to the balcony. Without breaking stride, he guided her there, shutting out the music with a quiet push of his foot as the doors swung closed behind them.
Cloud frowned softly when they stopped beneath the black, starless sky. He released her only enough to shift their hands but kept his hold as he led her toward the railing. Settling himself on the stone ledge, he left her standing close before him, their joined hands a striking contrast—his gloved grip enveloping her small fingers. For a moment, it looked almost protective.
The muffled hum of the orchestra floated from behind the glass. Cloud slipped her hand free and perched beside him on the railing, gaze drawn to the dancers spinning in the ballroom beyond.
Sephiroth studied her profile, wondering why he had brought her here of all places. He knew the answer, though—he wanted a moment alone. His eyes flicked briefly to the garden below, then back to the girl beside him. Why had Zack never mentioned Sorano before? She was a mystery.
He remembered her claim of being Cloud Strife’s twin. Strife was what, seventeen? This young woman looked very innocent—blue eyes wide, nose delicately upturned, lips soft and unguarded. Kissable.
He caught himself staring and blinked. Did he actually want to kiss her? The thought startled him. Yet the longer he sat beside her, the more tempting the idea became. For the first time, he realized—with a jolt—that he was interested. Not in women generally, but in this one.
Cloud closed her eyes, swaying softly to the music as she listened, letting her guard down for the first time that night.
Sephiroth hesitated. His hand hovered halfway, fingers flexing against the leather. Then, almost without thought, he tugged the glove free. The soft thud of it falling against the stone ledge felt louder than it should have. For a moment, he studied his own bare hand—unfamiliar, vulnerable—before reaching forward.
His palm cupped her cheek, warm skin meeting his for the first time. A faint tingling shot through him, startling in its simplicity, yet irresistible.
Cloud’s eyes fluttered open. The green of his gaze locked onto hers, softened in a way she had never seen before—tender, unguarded. She froze, caught between the instinct to pull back and the curiosity that rooted her in place.
Her breath caught. Every instinct screamed that he was too close, that this was dangerous. And yet another voice rose inside her, quieter but stronger, urging her not to move.
The decision was taken from her. Sephiroth bent his head with sudden certainty, lips closing over hers in a kiss that was both alien and inevitable.
She gasped, but instead of retreating, she leaned in. Heat flared, spreading like fire through her veins. His arms wrapped around her, steady and strong, while his other hand cradled her face. The kiss deepened, her lips parting in permission, their tongues tangling as she tasted the faint trace of wine lingering on his breath.
For Sephiroth, the moment was disorienting. His mind—disciplined, ruthless—shattered into fragments. This wasn’t strategy, nor curiosity, nor the cruelty he had long since mastered. It was honest, unbidden, and it unsettled him more than battle ever had. And yet… it felt right. Familiar, as though he’d been here before.
He tasted defiance and innocence tangled together. When at last they broke apart, her breath trembled against his cheek.
He studied her, his hand still cradling her face. His voice was low, uncharacteristically unguarded.
“Who are you?”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “No one. Really.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice came quieter still, a confession he hadn’t intended to make.
“I want to see you again.”
Her sapphire eyes opened, and he saw only sorrow in them. “I can’t,” she whispered. She slipped from his hold and rose to her feet. “I’m sorry. You’ll never see me again.”
She backed away, murmuring apologies as though they were wounds she could not heal. He remained seated, strangely rooted, watching her retreat as if some unseen thread were being cut. When at last she fled through the doors and vanished into the press of bodies, Sephiroth reached out—too late.
The balcony felt colder without her. He sat there a moment longer, hand still half raised, wondering why the loss of a stranger had left him feeling hollow.
Zack, after being shoved aside, caught sight of Cloud darting into an elevator. His gut clenched. He turned, searching for where she’d come from, and spotted the balcony doors ajar.
Outside, Sephiroth stood motionless, the city lights painting silver over his hair. For once, he didn’t look like the untouchable General. He looked… lost.
Zack’s heart twisted. He had never seen that expression on his friend’s face. Carefully, he stepped out.
“Sephiroth, what happened?”
The General lifted a hand vaguely, shoulders sagging in rare defeat. “I don’t know.” His voice was low, distracted. He paced the balcony, sharp boots whispering against stone.
Zack perched on the railing where Cloud had sat moments ago. “Hey.” His voice softened, probing but careful. “Something happened. Can you tell me?”
The mask snapped back into place—cold, flat, practiced. “It’s not important.” Sephiroth’s tone cut like a blade as he turned toward the doors.
Zack sighed, but didn’t move. He knew better than to push. Still, when Sephiroth stopped halfway, head bowed, then turned back, Zack felt a jolt of relief. The General returned and sat beside him.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Sephiroth admitted at last, his voice quieter.
“Start from the beginning,” Zack said gently.
Sephiroth frowned, staring at his bare hands. He usually wore gloves, but now the pale skin and the tattooed number glared back at him. He remembered the warmth of her cheek under his palm and felt that strange tingling again. “It’s a game, isn’t it?” He nodded toward the ballroom doors.
“The dance?” Zack shrugged. “It’s a game—unless you make it something else. So why bring her out here?”
“No idea,” Sephiroth said, his voice distant. “One moment we were talking. The next…”
“The next what?” Zack pressed, his tone sharp with unease.
Sephiroth’s eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. “…We kissed.”
Zack nearly toppled backward off the railing. He caught himself, then leaned forward, shouting, “You kissed her?”
“She responded.” The General’s voice was even, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of confusion.
Zack’s jaw dropped. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You don’t just kiss her! Damn it, Sephiroth, she must be completely thrown off. Do you know how shy she is? How long it took me to get her to trust me? Her life before Midgar was a nightmare. She’s fragile!”
Sephiroth frowned, rising to his feet. “Then why didn’t you tell me? You barely have time to leave headquarters. She claimed to be Strife’s twin—and from Nibelheim. None of it adds up.”
Zack met his glare evenly. “I met her through Cloud. Yes, she’s from Nibelheim, and yes, life was rough. But she’s wonderful if you give her time. I care for her like a sister. I didn’t want to see her hurt. That’s why I thought you should meet her—and Cloud. I figured you’d understand him.”
Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You and Cloud share things. Personality, drive, that… weight.” Zack waved a hand. “Forget it. I just don’t want him ending up bitter and alone. He deserves better.”
The words hit home harder than Zack realized. Sephiroth turned away, then back, his voice low. “…So he won’t end up like me.”
Zack’s smile faltered. “You’re not alone. You’ve got friends.”
“Name five.”
“Uh…” Zack scratched his neck. “You’ve got me.”
“Only you,” Sephiroth muttered.
“Can’t fault me for trying to widen the circle,” Zack said with a crooked grin.
Sephiroth exhaled slowly and sat again. “She and I were fine. It would have worked. Wouldn’t it?”
“You forgot to stop,” Zack countered.
“I’ll apologize.” His eyes darkened. “But she said I’d never see her again.”
Zack sighed as he watched his friend’s head drop. “I’ll talk to her, see what I can do. But I gotta ask—was it good?”
For a long moment, Sephiroth said nothing. Then, almost reluctantly, a faint curve touched his mouth. “It was… different.”
Zack raised a brow. “Different how?”
Sephiroth’s gaze lifted to the night sky, voice quiet. “…Warm.” It left me unsettled.
Zack froze, startled by the honesty in that single word. “Warm, huh? That’s saying a lot coming from you.” He stood, brushing off his pants. “I’ll find her. Maybe she’ll listen.” He gave a wave. “See you later.”
Sephiroth inclined his head, watching Zack disappear into the crowd. Left alone, he flexed his bare hand, remembering the warmth still clinging to his palm.
Notes:
So, just curious — what was your favorite part of this chapter?
This whole story started years ago with a bit of Cinderella inspiration, and this chapter was the spark. It’s grown way beyond that now, even after 25 years, but I still think the “fairy-tale” vibes linger here.
Liz_Blizz on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 07:44AM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Sep 2025 04:19AM UTC
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articuno13 on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Sep 2025 03:51AM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Sep 2025 04:21AM UTC
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articuno13 on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Sep 2025 04:25AM UTC
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articuno13 on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 05:09AM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 05:21AM UTC
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articuno13 on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 05:13AM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 05:38AM UTC
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articuno13 on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 06:04AM UTC
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throwhardest on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 08:34PM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Sep 2025 09:53PM UTC
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articuno13 on Chapter 3 Mon 15 Sep 2025 07:40PM UTC
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randomnamenottakenalready on Chapter 5 Thu 18 Sep 2025 01:25AM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 5 Thu 18 Sep 2025 07:02AM UTC
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randomnamenottakenalready on Chapter 5 Thu 18 Sep 2025 07:14AM UTC
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Cloud_Sorano on Chapter 5 Thu 18 Sep 2025 07:34AM UTC
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randomnamenottakenalready on Chapter 5 Thu 18 Sep 2025 08:23AM UTC
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