Sephiroth glowered at the water tower that loomed over him in the centre of the town. Of all the things that had happened to him, or had been done to him, rather, this was probably the worst. Well, probably not worse than some of the things Hojo had done to him in the lab. He hoped it wouldn't be, at any rate. Still. A man pulling a cart attracted his attention, and his eyes went wide. A cart! Next thing they'd be telling him that there were no cars at all here and he'd be stuck ... he spun on his heel and fixed his stare on the truck that was pulling away, pleading with the driver with his eyes.

Veldt smiled widely and waved at him. "Enjoy your summer, Sergeant! Perhaps next time you'll reconsider before disobeying orders."

"No! Wait!" he yelled, tossing his bags aside and starting down the mountain road after him. "You can't leave me here! You can't ..." his voice trailed off into nothingness as the truck sped up. Veldt waved once more, then his hand disappeared inside.

"Shit!" He kicked a rock, sending it skipping down the road after the truck, then stalked back to his bags. Yanking them up off the ground with far more force than was necessary, he surveyed the town again. How dare they send him to a place like this! And for what? He was leagues better than any of the old SOLDIERs! Why should he have to listen to what they said?

"Sephiroth?"

"What?" he barked, whipping his head around to glare at a portly man in coveralls.

The man laughed. Laughed! At him! "They said you were a prickly one," he said, still chuckling. "I'm Robert Lockheart, the mayor 'round these parts. You can call me Bob."

Sephiroth fixed him with his most intimidating glare. The mayor? What kind of mayor wore coveralls?

"Come on," he said, paying no heed to Sephiroth's glare. "I'll show you where you'll be living."

Grudgingly, he shouldered his bags and followed the man. He had half a mind to take off and spend his summer foraging in the woods. That would at least teach him something useful—not that he didn't already know everything he needed to about survival, but it would still be better than being stuck in Nibelheim all summer. Even the name sounded backwater. He had a feeling, however, that if he did disappear, Bob would be on the line to Colonel Taisha in a heartbeat and he'd be dragged back for something worse.

He kicked another rock and smiled to himself when it clipped the old codger's heel.

"Watch out for loose rocks," Lockheart said, glancing over his shoulder. "We're planning to fix up the roads this summer. Your colonel said that was something you'd be happy to help with."

Sephiroth bit his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. He wasn't going to waste his breath arguing. There was no way they could make him do it, and SOLDIERs did not do roadwork. As he followed the mayor down a winding road that led through thick trees and an open field, he noted that it did indeed need work; deep ruts were worn into it, and there were pot holes large enough to take out a vehicle's axle. That didn't mean he was going to help; they could hire a road crew.

"How much farther?" he asked. It was good that he was going to be out of the town centre, and hopefully away from the people, but he didn't want to spend all his time hiking back and forth for every little thing.

"Just around the bend and up the hill. There's a bicycle in the shed that you're free to borrow when you don't want to hoof it. I'll give you the key."

Sephiroth gritted his teeth and said nothing again. A bicycle? Did they think he was a child? After a further five minutes of walking, they approached a rickety-looking shack sitting in a field of weeds and old spruce trees. The bright yellow flowers with big brown centres that seemed to compose the outer walls of the building were half as tall as he was. "What are those things?" he asked, making his distaste for the things plain.

"The flowers? You've never seen sunflowers before?"

"Sunflowers?"

"They turn their faces towards the sun every morning, and follow it throughout the day. They'll be taller than you by the end of summer."

"Can't anything be done about them?"

Lockheart's smile wavered for the first time. "You mean you don't like them?"

"They're impeding visibility. If they're going to grow bigger, there will be no way to determine if anyone is hiding among them. They could also hinder an escape route, or bring an infestation of insects, or—"

For the second time that day, the mayor laughed at him. He compounded the insult by slapping his shoulder in what Sephiroth expected was meant to be a jovial manner. "Hinder an escape route! I love it! If you find the assassins are beginning to be a problem, you can cut them down, but until then, leave them be."

He seethed quietly as he was led through the weeds to the side of the house, where a door was creaking in the breeze.

"Looks like the kids have been using this as their hideout again," Lockheart said. "I'm sure they haven't made too much of a mess of it, though. You'll be able to fix it up to suit yourself." He pushed the door open all the way and gestured for him to enter.

Sephiroth scanned the room carefully, taking in the posters that had been pinned to the walls, the thin books with colourful illustrations scattered among empty cans and snack packages, and the stack of short boxes by a little table. A large black beetle crawled out of one of the packages and scuttled off to a dark corner. "Not too much of a mess?" he asked in a carefully level tone.

"Well, we all know how kids are!" The mayor slapped his shoulder again. "I'll leave you to it! Here's the key, and the one to the shed as well; it's just around back."

Before Sephiroth could form any sort of protest, Lockheart was gone, whistling an off-key tune as he strolled down the road. He slammed the door behind him and threw his bags down, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process.

"Shit!" He didn't bother taking off his boots before stomping into the room, kicking crap out of the way as he went.

"Mom says that's a bad word."

Sephiroth spun to his left and saw a little boy peering at him from behind a partially closed door. "What are you doing in here?"

"Hanging out," the boy replied. He opened the door all the way, allowing Sephiroth to see beyond him into what looked like a bedroom.

"Well, get out! I live here now." The boy just stared up at him with wide blue eyes behind his wild hair that was nearly the colour of the stupid sunflowers. Sephiroth's lip curled into a snarl, and he grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and tossed him outside. He waited just long enough to see the child roll—rather skillfully—as he landed, then he slammed the door again and locked it.

He shoved some of the garbage to the sides of the room to make space for his things, then unzipped his largest bag.

"I'm Cloud. What's your name?"

Turning to the voice behind him, Sephiroth fixed him with the same glare he had given Lockheart. Cloud just sat there expectantly, not looking the least bit perturbed. Did no one in this town realize who he was?

"How did you get in here?" Sephiroth demanded to know.

Cloud pointed to the bedroom, and when Sephiroth got up to look, he noticed the wide open window and the screen lying on the floor next to it. Dead leaves and dust covered the bed and gathered in the corners. He stormed across the room and slammed the window shut. It didn't even appear to have a lock! Resolving to find a length of wood that he could use to wedge it shut, Sephiroth returned to the main room to evict his unwelcome guest once more, only to find him rummaging through his bag.

"Get out of that!" He grabbed the boy by the collar again and hauled him away. The bamboo practice sword they had given him to take followed.

"Wow! Are you a ninja?" Cloud waved the sheathed sword around, apparently oblivious to the fact that Sephiroth was dragging him towards the door again.

He snatched the sword away from him—it may have been a poor replacement for Masamune, but it was all he had. "Get out, and stay out!"

The third time Sephiroth found himself glaring at Cloud's wide blue eyes, he simply sighed. "Why won't you go away?"

"Because we're friends. So, are you a ninja?"

"Don't be stupid, of course I'm not a ninja. If you're going to be in here, go sit in the corner and don't talk."

To his great shock, Cloud actually went and sat leaning against the wall with one of the illustrated books, remaining quiet while Sephiroth began to unpack his things. He placed the calligraphy set he had been given as he was leaving on the little table. While practicing his penmanship seemed like a dull task, it might be the only thing he'd have to keep him occupied here. He attempted to dust out the wardrobe he found in the bedroom, but gave up quickly and shoved his clothes in despite the dirt. What did he care if everything was filthy? Colonel Taisha wasn't going to pop by for an inspection.

"What's peddling?" Cloud asked when he came out for another load of clothing.

"What?"

"This word. What's it mean?" He turned his book and pointed to a page where the scenes appeared to be drawn in smaller panels within the page. Three mice were conversing, with white ovals above their heads depicting their dialogue. Cloud's chubby finger hovered over the middle panel and Sephiroth leaned in closer to see.

"Peddling. It means selling."

"Thanks." Cloud turned the book around again and propped it up on his knees.

"What is that?" Sephiroth asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "I've never seen a book with pictures like that before."

"You've never seen a comic?" Cloud had a look on his face like he couldn't quite comprehend the cruelty of such a fate.

Sephiroth shook his head. "What does it teach you?"

Cloud laughed. "It's just for fun."

"For fun?"

"Here, you read this one." He shoved the comic he had been reading into Sephiroth's hands and picked up another, then moved over so Sephiroth would have space to sit beside him.

Unsure of what else he could do, Sephiroth sat and opened the comic. He turned the pages much quicker than Cloud as he read about the mice searching for one of their own, and before he knew it, he had reached the last page which read: To Be Continued.

He shut the book. What an utter waste of time. The tactics the warrior mice used had been sound, but there was certainly nothing of value in it for him.

"Want the next one?" Cloud held out another comic with an equally low page count.

Well, it wouldn't take him long to get through it, and he was mildly curious about the traitor. "I guess," he grumbled, refusing to admit out loud that he was interested.

"Hellooo in there!" A voice from outside startled both of them, and Sephiroth hastily scrambled to his feet, tossing the comic on top of the large stack that he had finished reading. The sun was low on the horizon behind the foothills to the west when he opened the door, but the shocking passage of time took second place to what appeared to be the entire village on his doorstep.

Mayor Lockheart was at the head of the pack with a rag tied around his head and a mop on his shoulder. "We're here to help get you settled in. Go fetch a bucket of water—oh! I see you've met Cloud! He'll show you where the buckets are."

Sephiroth felt a tugging at his hand and stepped in that direction. Cloud pulled him outside and towards the back of the house, and as he went, the hoard descended.

"That's ... my ... don't ..." He stared helplessly as some people began to go through his bags while others began attacking the floors, walls, and ceilings with brooms and dusters.

"Let's go get a bucket," Cloud said, dragging him away from the violation of his privacy.

They fetched a bucket from the shed. Sephiroth saw the accident waiting to happen that he supposed was his bicycle, and vowed then and there to never touch the thing. Water was retrieved from an ancient, rusty pump in the yard, and he made a second vow to boil everything. By the time they returned to the house, the garbage had been cleared away, and all the comics, toys, and posters were in a box. Someone snatched the pail from him, and someone else shouted for a fresh garbage bag. Still another person yelled for Al to bring up a new screen for the bedroom window.

"Cloud, did you kick the screen out?" A woman with hair to match Cloud's leaned through the doorway and fixed him with a glare.

"Did not!"

"Well there's a hole in it that I'd say is exactly your shoe size. You know how to pop out a screen properly."

"I didn't!" Cloud looked up at him, pleading with his eyes much the same way Sephiroth had earlier in the day.

"Really?" Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "Then how did you get through?"

"The screen was already out when I climbed in! It's been out for ages!" He seemed so earnest—almost like he would burst into tears—that Sephiroth relented. He didn't want to deal with tears.

"Maybe it was a squirrel," he said, causing Cloud to beam, though the moment he said it, he imagined a squirrel infestation in the attic and grimaced. He shut his eyes, wishing he could also shut out the noise of so many boisterous people, and allowed himself to be shoved back outside.

Barely an hour had passed before Sephiroth was invited back inside what he had thought was his own house. The change was remarkable. Cobwebs had been swept away, the floors had been polished, and there were actual furnishings now. His practice sword had been carefully placed atop a short book case, the manuals he had brought with him were arranged on the shelf below, and the calligraphy set was laid out on the small table, along with a pristine sheet of paper, ready for him to begin practicing.

"Cloud, run down and get the pot of stew I set aside for Sephiroth," the yellow-haired woman said. "It's in the red ceramic pot. Use potholders; it's hot!"

"Ha! Now I know your name!" Cloud leaped up, punched his fist in the air, and took off at a mad run, his little feet pattering loudly on the dirt road.

"We'll be taking off now," Lockheart said, wiping some dust and sweat off his forehead. "If you need anything else, just give a holler."

Sephiroth looked around at all the people who were slowly beginning to disperse. He didn't know what to say or do. Did he have to thank them, even though he hadn't asked for their help? He supposed it would be proper.

"Thank you. For ..." Sephiroth waved his hand at the house, unable to bring himself to express gratitude for having his private property rooted through, but he did appreciate the assistance with cleaning up. "I don't understand why so many people came."

It seemed that Lockheart was going to make a habit of slapping him on the shoulder, and it made him miss his armour. That discouraged people from touching him. "We don't have many people move out this way, so a new face is exciting. Especially one from the big city. I think you'll fit in well here, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth snorted as the man turned away. He had absolutely no intention of fitting in here. He would serve his punishment, then go back to Midgar and forget Nibelheim ever existed.

"Cloud will be back shortly with some supper for you," said the woman who was most likely Cloud's mother. "I'm Alde Strife, by the way. Thank you for being kind to Cloud; he doesn't have a lot of friends."

He gave a half-hearted shrug; somehow he failed to see how throwing the boy out the door twice constituted being kind, but then, his mother hadn't been around to see that. It didn't surprise him to learn that Cloud didn't have a lot of friends; the boy was obnoxious!

Alde and Lockheart walked together down the road, chatting about the weather and snow runoff. Sephiroth had half a mind to lock the door again, but had a feeling that Cloud would find a new way into the house regardless. And he was hungry. He supposed he should be grateful as well that somebody had thought to feed him. So he sat on the step and waited in the gathering dusk while trying to tune out the din from what he assumed was crickets until Cloud finally appeared at the gate lugging a small pot.

"It's about time," he snapped and strode over to the boy, snatching the pot from him. "It's probably cold by now."

"I got hungry on the way," Cloud said with a grin. "Mom says you can heat it on the hob if you need to."

"You got hungry? You mean you ate my—?" Sephiroth snatched the lid off the pot. Inside was a hearty stew with meat, a variety of vegetables, and what looked like barley. The pot was barely two-thirds full.

"I got hungry! It was really far, and I didn't have a snack this afternoon," Cloud protested. "There's still lots."

Sephiroth noticed wetness gathering in the corners of Cloud's eyes and his rapidly reddening face. "It's fine," he muttered, hoping to stave off any bawling. He had heard a child crying while he had been patrolling in Midgar once, and he had no wish to experience it again. "Come on, you might as well stay while I eat so you can take the pot back."

Cloud sniffled and pulled a spoon that appeared to have been licked clean out of his pocket, holding it out to him.

He sighed loudly and took the spoon, then led the way into the tiny kitchen. A single gas burner was propped up on a wooden crate. There was also a small refrigerator and, much to his relief, a sink. He found a clean spoon in a drawer and passed the used one back to Cloud. There was nowhere in the kitchen to sit, so he returned to the main room and sat on the threadbare, but clean couch someone had supplied. Cloud crawled up next to him, and Sephiroth couldn't quite bring himself to shove him away. He settled for ignoring him while he ate.

By the time he had scraped the pot clean, Cloud had fallen asleep on his shoulder, much to his annoyance. He didn't bother trying to not disturb him when he stood to go wash the pot; he'd have to wake him anyway to send him home. Cloud simply tipped over into the vacant space he left and continued sleeping.

He managed to not swear too loudly when he scalded himself with the hot water. Teaching Cloud 'bad words', as the child had put it, would probably earn him a lecture from Colonel Taisha. Although maybe Cloud wouldn't be allowed to harass him if he did. That would bear some consideration. When the dishes were washed and dried, he returned to the main room and roughly shook Cloud.

"Wake up. You have to go home now."

Cloud yawned and stretched. "Did I fall asleep?"

Sephiroth refrained from asking if he was stupid, and shoved the pot into his hands instead. "Take this back with you."

"Okay," Cloud mumbled sleepily. He staggered to the door and struggled for a few moments putting on his sandals.

"Can you get back all right by yourself?" Sephiroth asked when he opened the door and realized there were no lights along the road.

"No problem. Thanks for playing with me today."

An unpleasant feeling in the back of his mind made him grab Cloud's collar as he was about to head out the door. "Wait. I'll walk you back." Nobody here seemed to be concerned about monsters, but he didn't think it was right to let a ... Sephiroth frowned at Cloud. Two? Five? Ten, maybe? Probably not. How were you supposed to tell the ages of children? He didn't want to be blamed for a child's death, at any rate.

"You'll walk with me?" Cloud perked up, all traces of sleepiness gone from his face and posture.

"Just to make sure nothing happens. I don't want to."

Cloud didn't appear to have paid attention to that last part, and he danced around giddily while Sephiroth put his boots on. "Did you know that the fireflies are going to come out soon? We can catch them together. I'm really good at catching them. I'll show you how. Hey, let's go see if the oroar's out. There's a really good spot nearby."

"I'm just taking you home," Sephiroth said in what he hoped was a stern tone.

As soon as he stood and took the pot from Cloud, his hand was grabbed by Cloud's warm, slightly sticky one, and he was dragged out the door. "Come on, it's not far!"

"No, we're going—"

Cloud dropped his hand and ran off in the opposite direction of the town, and Sephiroth was forced to follow. He'd really get it if he let the boy wander off into the wilderness. Didn't his mother care where he was? Didn't he have rules to follow? And punishments if he broke them? A stint in Hojo's lab would do him good.

"Hurry! Don't look until we get there!" Cloud picked up his pace, then darted off the road and scrambled loudly through a thick cluster of bushes. "This way! This way!" he called.

Sephiroth followed him at a more careful pace. His initial fear that the bushes were probably poison ivy was assuaged when he noticed that there was a small path leading through them. And Cloud did appear to know where he was going, despite it being in the entirely wrong direction. He wondered what the oroar was, and why they were in such a great hurry to see it.

He caught up with Cloud at the base of a rock formation that appeared to break out above the treetops.

"Up here!"

"No, you can't climb that in the dark. Do you even know for certain if you're going to see this oroar of yours?"

"You don't know until you look," Cloud responded. He scrambled up the rock using his hands to help balance, then turned around partway and offered his hand to Sephiroth. "It doesn't hurt to try. It's best from here if its out."

"Until you fall off and break your neck," he grumbled. He climbed up to Cloud's level and took his hand—more as a safety precaution than out of any desire to touch the thing again. Cloud pulled him on until they approached the top of the formation, where he broke out into excited squeals.

"There it is!"

Sephiroth glanced up to the sky where Cloud was pointing and his breath caught. "Oh, the aurora."

"That's what I said. Pick me up so I can see better. No fair that you're taller."

"That won't make a difference," he said, but crouched down to get Cloud to stop pulling at him. The boy climbed onto his shoulders and clutched tightly at him. It wasn't like he weighed a lot, so Sephiroth grudgingly stood, keeping a careful grip on his knees. At least this way he couldn't run around.

"Isn't it pretty?" he asked.

Sephiroth tilted his head back to gaze up at the colourful lights dancing across the sky. "It is. Don't pull my hair."

But even the painful tugging on his hair couldn't quite distract him from the phenomenon. He had never seen anything like it, and he lost track of how long they stood on the rock tip. He only looked down once the lights had faded away.

"Aren't you glad you looked?" Cloud asked as he began carefully picking his way back down. It was more difficult with Cloud on his shoulders, but Sephiroth felt he had a better chance of getting him home with no further distractions if he continued to carry him.

"I suppose I am."

"It's better in winter, but mom won't let me stay out late then. Plus it's cold!"

"Well, you're probably out too late as it is. I wish I still had my PHS." That had been confiscated, along with Masamune and his materia, before his exile. Maybe he should get a watch. Not knowing the time set him on edge.

"What's a PHS?"

"A portable phone."

"There's a phone at the drug store. Or we can make tin can phones. I've got some good cans saved. Do you have any string? Maybe Tifa has some. Then we'd have to make it a three-way phone. Maybe there's string in the bits and bobs box."

Sephiroth ignored the babbling until they got to the village proper, then he was forced to pay attention to Cloud's attempt at directions.

"Here!" Cloud swung his leg towards a small house with a wide porch. A lamp in front of the door had moths swarming all over it, blocking out half the light it gave off. He lifted Cloud off his shoulders and set him down on the porch just as the door opened.

"Cutting it mighty fine tonight, young man," his mother said. She was wearing a robe and slippers and had her hair done up in curlers.

"We saw the oroar!" Cloud shouted.

"Did you? Well, I suppose that warrants staying out a little late. Now get your butt into bed."

"Goodnight, Seph!" he hollered as he scampered past his mother, who ruffled his hair as he went. "See you tomorrow!"

Seph? Tomorrow? Sephiroth sputtered in indignation as Alde turned to him.

"Thanks for bringing him back in one piece. He's a bit of a handful, but he's the only one I've got."

"I apologize for being so late. I don't have my PHS and lost track of time. He insisted that we see the aurora."

Alde shrugged nonchalantly. "It's summer. He's out the door at dawn and shows up again when he's hungry. The rule is supposed to be that he has to be home before I go to bed, but he's caught on that I don't go to bed until he's home."

Sephiroth had to stop himself from saying anything. He probably wasn't supposed to judge how other people parented, but he found it rather appalling that Alde would just let her son run off for the entire day. What would have happened if he had left Cloud to return on his own? "Thank you for the meal," he said to change the topic. "It was extremely good."

"Not a problem." Alde took the pot back with a smile. "Bob tells me you've never had to cook for yourself. I'll send Ricky—Bob's eldest along in the morning with some breakfast and lunch for you. He'll be a bit quicker at it than Cloud."

"I appreciate it."

As he crawled into bed that night, it occurred to Sephiroth that he had never been obligated to express gratitude as often as he had that day. Having to depend on others for assistance was aggravating. It was one day done, at least. He pulled his survival knife out of the drawer next to his bed and notched a vertical slash in the wall. "Only fifty-nine more to go."