Forgotten Daze
FF7 fanfiction
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It had been too long. Too long since he had seen his home, his house, his mother. The only friendly face in the entire town, yet he still missed it all. Despite the pain he knew would never leave his memories, each and every blow dealt to him still stinging in recognition, despite the self-loathing that boiled within him at the sheer thought of how things had been ... he missed it. He had left misery only to face it once more. He had never been too young to be unable to grasp such existential suffering, but only realized once he had another dream crushed that all pain in the world was universal, simply reorganized and placed back in a new situation, a new dilemma in life that would inevitably end the same.
It was depressing, yes, but to be able to accept such facts was something he took as a blessing. Ignorance may have been bliss, but it was only through another sorrowful understanding that he realized he had long since past that point when such things could be blurred and distorted in his own mind.
So no matter what he did, no matter where he went, things would always be the same. Whether he was home, being degraded constantly by the other children, unable to help anyone, let alone the one person he wanted to, letting that man take every once of his frustration out on such a defenseless child who didn't even bother to retaliate ... It was all the same. Adversity would face him everywhere, it didn't seem to matter what his plans for his own life were, the miserable hands of fate were around every corner, waiting just to make sure they could keep their grip on their pitiful little puppet.
And apparently, at least from what the boy gathered from the tirade his instructor had gone off on in front of him, doing his best to rip him to shreds in front of his peers, anything to break him down further in order to be built up again in correct fashion, those very hands now wept in their sadistic glory, gleeful in their ability to watch as his dreams fleeted further and further away.
It was almost ironic, how the man could think he was doing so well to destroy the boy's confidence, as he had already arrived at such a point, already a shell of a human being, a miserable entity trapped between being too young and weak to save even himself, and being too hardened by life to wish for his ill spent childhood back.
He wanted something, anything really, just something solid and reliable. Which, he assumed, were why his memories had reminded him of the home he had left so eagerly. Even if he could think of nothing worse than having to face his past again, the allure of something so familiar and so sturdy in his life was more than welcome.
"Strife!" He could feel the spit against his face as the instructor yelled his name, most obviously not for the first time. Cloud blinked slightly, the images fading away into his memories once again as he focused on the man in front of him. "I said, what is it that you want, boy?"
The other candidates watched the blond recruit from the corner's of their eyes, unable to turn their head from their perfect attention. Cloud stood as straight as he could, already far beyond broken by the rigorous training. To be asked such a direct question from their instructor was truly a holy thing; it was rare for the battle-hardened man to so much as single a student out, let alone recall their name. Cloud felt a mix of emotions as the color drained from his face, only to be replaced by the onslaught of blood filling his cheeks. He had been daydreaming, and had no idea where the critique against him had gone.
There was no way to avoid it, Cloud realized solemnly, trying not to swallow the lump in his throat visibly, unable to stop thinking about the punishment for such disobedience would be. "What ... do you mean, Sir?"
The instructor's face hardened, a thing the blond recruit hadn't thought possible, and the other few boys around him turned slightly, already too far involved in the personal attack their instructor had taken on the boy.
"I /mean/," The man stepped forward, stooping slightly to look Cloud in the eyes. "What is it that you want out of this? Why do you bother to keep up with this training? What's your motivation to do this? Why, Strife, do you want to be a SOLDIER?"
The man's voice had dropped in intensity, suddenly seeming as though the question actually held a vague importance to him. Cloud remained at attention, watching him with unflinching eyes. Such a stoic facade had helped him get to where he was, even if it did fail on occasion.
"I want to be stronger, Sir."
"Stronger?" The instructor stood back to his true height, looking down on the blond curiously. "Shit, boy, I've got /after shave/ stronger than you, /any/ sort of training would help, why are you so adamant to be a SOLDIER?"
"I ... " The original answer had been drilled into his mind, repeated to himself over and over, well into the night as he lay in his barracks nursing his wounds. He wanted to be /stronger./ He /needed/ to be stronger. That was all there was to it. All that was going to be revealed, anyway, especially to the man who had single handedly made it his purpose in life to watch the boy suffer.
"You /what?/" The man made no attempt to soften his words, knowing quite well that he bordered dangerously close on what could break the small, weak recruits that came with a single hope and dream, a lifetime of hardship behind them. "All you've managed to do so far is /fail/ all your trials, /flunk/ all your exams, and make a /mockery/ of all we try to teach here! You're not even physically /built/ right to withstand any sort of fight, what the /hell/ is it that drives you on?"
"I ... want to be stronger, Sir."
The instructor watched the boy's eyes for a moment, unblinking and unfaltering in the gaze back, long since practiced at hiding all tell-tale emotion, before shaking his head slightly and stepping back. Cloud had meant the answer as truthfully as anything else in his life, and for once his unspoken adversary seemed to understand.
"All right, all of you get the hell out of here," The man motioned toward the group of boys, all releasing from attention, casting quick glances toward Cloud's unmoving figure. "Tomorrow's the big day, and I don't want any of you late. Attendance is mandatory, so don't fuck it up." He turned once more to Cloud, who remained in his spot. "I'm done with you too, boy. I expect to see you there tomorrow, but unless you spend the whole night training, I doubt I'll see you any time after."
The instructor left, the echo of the closing metal door somehow amplified in Cloud's mind. He stood in his spot, his eyes blank as he watched the floor, his thoughts completely silenced. Tomorrow was the day. The boy recognized the bitter humor with slight remorse, unable to find any emotion with which to acknowledge it. The first of the cuts, quite possibly the last day of his training. All of it would be worthless in the end, all of the pain and the sweat and the constant pushing ... all of it was for nothing.
--------------------------------
"You're not going?"
"Of course not," His friend's voice was as bland as usual, the boredom sliding off each word.
"It wouldn't kill you, you know. It's not like half of them aren't here for you in the first place. Most of them will be gone tomorrow night anyway, you should at least give them one last thing to try and achieve."
"They work hard enough just to get back at their instructors," the white haired man replied quietly, engrossed in the stack of files laid before him.
"Why do you think they signed up in the first place? Just to have the shit kicked out of them on every possible level? They're here because of /you,/ don't act like you don't know it."
"I'm not a goal in life, Zack," the man responded, organizing a pile of papers. Zack scowled from his position on the desk.
"I didn't say you were," the black haired man mumbled, opening a bottom drawer on the desk with his foot. "You just don't always have to be so anti-social, especially to all those poor kids."
"I'm not being anti-social," He replied, slamming the disturbed drawer closed and meeting his friend's glare. "I just have other things to do that are slightly more important."
"What, kissing ass in Shinra headquarters? You do that more often than they have prelim cuts, I fail to see how it's more important."
The man sighed abruptly, turning back to his friend. "Why exactly did you come here, just to see how far you could pester me?"
Zack grinned from the desktop. "As if you even need to ask," he answered, arching his back playfully as he watched his friend turn away, rolling his bright mako eyes in contempt. The man walked to the opposite side of the room, setting his stack of papers down among the files neatly strewn about the office.
"Why do you even bother to go?" He asked suddenly, turning to Zack with almost a hint of true emotion. The black haired SOLDIER shrugged, not quite finished grinning yet.
"Probably something to do with the fact that Shinra's run by a bunch of idiot faces in suits. None of them know how to judge a good soldier, not even the Turks. They're all too caught up in themselves to really care about any of them." Zack shrugged again, pulling his legs to his chest. "Most of the time the kids are chosen on how well they've done in their first week here, the instructors have no idea how to tell if someone has hidden talent."
"And you do?"
Zack brushed the comment aside with one hand. "Well gee, Seph, don't give me /too/ much credit or anything."
Sephiroth turned again, his friend's playful sarcasm all too commonplace. "You're really that interested in seeing all of them?"
The black haired man looked to the closed window for a moment, giving the question true thought. "Yeah, I am. I was no different from any of them, you know? I know what they're going through."
Sephiroth continued his work, seemingly unfazed, as a moment of vague understanding passed between the two. Zack may have been no different from the rest of the recruits, but the same couldn't be said for his white haired companion.
Words, thankfully enough, held no real importance between the two men. Battle hardened and experienced, they were of an elite group, and their often uncanny understanding of each other was frequently viewed as the true reason behind their victories. Just /why/ they seemed that way was debatable, but most other members of Shinra had long since decided to leave such subjects alone. It was probably something inherent in the Mako, and if it wasn't, well, no one really wanted to make assumptions about anyone who wielded a seven foot long sword, or a three foot wide one for that matter.
Zack sat still on the desk top, watching Sephiroth file through his reports intently. A hint of mischief began to brew behind his strong blue eyes as he gazed at his friend's back.
"Whatever you're thinking," Sephiroth mumbled, "don't."
"Jesus," Zack let his feet fall off the desk once more, his face downcast. "I don't know if it's worse that you're absolutely no fun, or that you're just plain creepy sometimes." Sephiroth made no attempt to reply, and Zack's scowl deepened. "Tight ass Shinra bitch," He mumbled, glaring away from his friend's back.
Sephiroth finally sighed, turning to the other man with a glare as pure as anything, the intense mako eyes enough to freeze any man. Zack sat on his desk, legs straddling the corner, grinning up at the white haired SOLDIER. "Why exactly do you bother coming here--"
"If all I'm going to do is try to get a rise out of you?" Zack's wide grin never faded. Sephiroth crossed his arms, watching his friend. "Well, I've come to the conclusion that you're good for just two things ... "
"A target for your insubordinate banter and tasteless humor?"
"That's one, yes," Zack's smile finally began to fade slightly into something much more devious as he watched the other man. "Do you want to know the other?"
The look in Sephiroth's eyes failed to change from their slight disdain, but his head cocked slightly, already well aware of what the other man had been building up to. "No," He said quietly, letting his green eyes close slowly as he attempted to conceal what could very well have been mild amusement, "I'm fairly sure I know what you mean, and I resent being used for your own devices."
"Like hell you do," Zack said quietly, his eyes still smoldering as he smiled something truly wicked to the other SOLDIER.
Sephiroth shook his head, a failed attempt to feign his lack of interest, barely hiding a slightly bemused smile, the rare, human emotion enough to speak louder than anything he could have said.
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Failure. Cloud hadn't been brandished with the word too often in his short life, yet there was something about the word that resonated deep within him, as if it could sum up his entire existence, as if it would play an important role in his future.
Such introspective twaddle was getting old, and Cloud let himself roll onto his side once again, staring at the large clock on the barracks wall. It was an hour before dawn of his final day in training, and the young blond had yet to drift off into any sort of slumber.
A few of the other boys began to stir around him, most too anxious to stay asleep for too long. Unfortunately enough for Cloud, he couldn't say he understood how they felt. His anxiety was something wholly different, and while it had fueled most of the recruits on, all of them barely able to contain their excitement for the upcoming events, all it managed to do was bore a hole deeper into the blond, destroying everything around it until even the memories he used to comfort himself with blurred into obscurity.
As long as he had accepted his fate, there were no means left to hurt him further. He would be cast aside in a few hours, by those he had poured himself out to in order to try and achieve what they wanted, no less. The rejection meant nothing to him anymore, he had long since understood it was inevitable. Apathy was truly a great thing.
There was nothing that could help him any longer, nothing that Cloud believed in, anyway. He had been jaded far too long to believe he deserved any sort of miracle, even if it was the only thing that could save him.
Cloud pulled his pillow out from under his head, pressing it down on the side of his face hard, in an attempt to silence the noise and the thoughts rushing about inside his head, and waited for the sun to rise and his day to begin.
--------------------------------
"I said, you're a miracle," He repeated, walking through the door. Zack watched him from behind, attempting to smooth down his tussled hair.
"How so?"
Sephiroth turned to him, his icy facade back in place. "You must be the first man in your position to keep up a positive outlook on life. Even after everything you've been through, and everything you've seen, your personality refuses to be destroyed."
Zack grinned, the observation a very obvious, and very rare, compliment from the white haired man. "Gee, really? A miracle? See, I would have said I was just some marvelous wonder. A Shinra phenomenon. A SOLDIER marvel. A really god damned--"
"Zack."
"Hm?"
"Goodbye."
Zack grinned again, raising a hand to wave his friend off. He may have been going off little to no sleep, but there was something about the day ... The black haired soldier, however common it was to see bubbling over with enthusiasm, felt something ... well, /good/ about it. Zack spun around on his heel, turning away from the other SOLIDER, and began making his way to the training rooms.
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FF7 fanfiction
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It had been too long. Too long since he had seen his home, his house, his mother. The only friendly face in the entire town, yet he still missed it all. Despite the pain he knew would never leave his memories, each and every blow dealt to him still stinging in recognition, despite the self-loathing that boiled within him at the sheer thought of how things had been ... he missed it. He had left misery only to face it once more. He had never been too young to be unable to grasp such existential suffering, but only realized once he had another dream crushed that all pain in the world was universal, simply reorganized and placed back in a new situation, a new dilemma in life that would inevitably end the same.
It was depressing, yes, but to be able to accept such facts was something he took as a blessing. Ignorance may have been bliss, but it was only through another sorrowful understanding that he realized he had long since past that point when such things could be blurred and distorted in his own mind.
So no matter what he did, no matter where he went, things would always be the same. Whether he was home, being degraded constantly by the other children, unable to help anyone, let alone the one person he wanted to, letting that man take every once of his frustration out on such a defenseless child who didn't even bother to retaliate ... It was all the same. Adversity would face him everywhere, it didn't seem to matter what his plans for his own life were, the miserable hands of fate were around every corner, waiting just to make sure they could keep their grip on their pitiful little puppet.
And apparently, at least from what the boy gathered from the tirade his instructor had gone off on in front of him, doing his best to rip him to shreds in front of his peers, anything to break him down further in order to be built up again in correct fashion, those very hands now wept in their sadistic glory, gleeful in their ability to watch as his dreams fleeted further and further away.
It was almost ironic, how the man could think he was doing so well to destroy the boy's confidence, as he had already arrived at such a point, already a shell of a human being, a miserable entity trapped between being too young and weak to save even himself, and being too hardened by life to wish for his ill spent childhood back.
He wanted something, anything really, just something solid and reliable. Which, he assumed, were why his memories had reminded him of the home he had left so eagerly. Even if he could think of nothing worse than having to face his past again, the allure of something so familiar and so sturdy in his life was more than welcome.
"Strife!" He could feel the spit against his face as the instructor yelled his name, most obviously not for the first time. Cloud blinked slightly, the images fading away into his memories once again as he focused on the man in front of him. "I said, what is it that you want, boy?"
The other candidates watched the blond recruit from the corner's of their eyes, unable to turn their head from their perfect attention. Cloud stood as straight as he could, already far beyond broken by the rigorous training. To be asked such a direct question from their instructor was truly a holy thing; it was rare for the battle-hardened man to so much as single a student out, let alone recall their name. Cloud felt a mix of emotions as the color drained from his face, only to be replaced by the onslaught of blood filling his cheeks. He had been daydreaming, and had no idea where the critique against him had gone.
There was no way to avoid it, Cloud realized solemnly, trying not to swallow the lump in his throat visibly, unable to stop thinking about the punishment for such disobedience would be. "What ... do you mean, Sir?"
The instructor's face hardened, a thing the blond recruit hadn't thought possible, and the other few boys around him turned slightly, already too far involved in the personal attack their instructor had taken on the boy.
"I /mean/," The man stepped forward, stooping slightly to look Cloud in the eyes. "What is it that you want out of this? Why do you bother to keep up with this training? What's your motivation to do this? Why, Strife, do you want to be a SOLDIER?"
The man's voice had dropped in intensity, suddenly seeming as though the question actually held a vague importance to him. Cloud remained at attention, watching him with unflinching eyes. Such a stoic facade had helped him get to where he was, even if it did fail on occasion.
"I want to be stronger, Sir."
"Stronger?" The instructor stood back to his true height, looking down on the blond curiously. "Shit, boy, I've got /after shave/ stronger than you, /any/ sort of training would help, why are you so adamant to be a SOLDIER?"
"I ... " The original answer had been drilled into his mind, repeated to himself over and over, well into the night as he lay in his barracks nursing his wounds. He wanted to be /stronger./ He /needed/ to be stronger. That was all there was to it. All that was going to be revealed, anyway, especially to the man who had single handedly made it his purpose in life to watch the boy suffer.
"You /what?/" The man made no attempt to soften his words, knowing quite well that he bordered dangerously close on what could break the small, weak recruits that came with a single hope and dream, a lifetime of hardship behind them. "All you've managed to do so far is /fail/ all your trials, /flunk/ all your exams, and make a /mockery/ of all we try to teach here! You're not even physically /built/ right to withstand any sort of fight, what the /hell/ is it that drives you on?"
"I ... want to be stronger, Sir."
The instructor watched the boy's eyes for a moment, unblinking and unfaltering in the gaze back, long since practiced at hiding all tell-tale emotion, before shaking his head slightly and stepping back. Cloud had meant the answer as truthfully as anything else in his life, and for once his unspoken adversary seemed to understand.
"All right, all of you get the hell out of here," The man motioned toward the group of boys, all releasing from attention, casting quick glances toward Cloud's unmoving figure. "Tomorrow's the big day, and I don't want any of you late. Attendance is mandatory, so don't fuck it up." He turned once more to Cloud, who remained in his spot. "I'm done with you too, boy. I expect to see you there tomorrow, but unless you spend the whole night training, I doubt I'll see you any time after."
The instructor left, the echo of the closing metal door somehow amplified in Cloud's mind. He stood in his spot, his eyes blank as he watched the floor, his thoughts completely silenced. Tomorrow was the day. The boy recognized the bitter humor with slight remorse, unable to find any emotion with which to acknowledge it. The first of the cuts, quite possibly the last day of his training. All of it would be worthless in the end, all of the pain and the sweat and the constant pushing ... all of it was for nothing.
--------------------------------
"You're not going?"
"Of course not," His friend's voice was as bland as usual, the boredom sliding off each word.
"It wouldn't kill you, you know. It's not like half of them aren't here for you in the first place. Most of them will be gone tomorrow night anyway, you should at least give them one last thing to try and achieve."
"They work hard enough just to get back at their instructors," the white haired man replied quietly, engrossed in the stack of files laid before him.
"Why do you think they signed up in the first place? Just to have the shit kicked out of them on every possible level? They're here because of /you,/ don't act like you don't know it."
"I'm not a goal in life, Zack," the man responded, organizing a pile of papers. Zack scowled from his position on the desk.
"I didn't say you were," the black haired man mumbled, opening a bottom drawer on the desk with his foot. "You just don't always have to be so anti-social, especially to all those poor kids."
"I'm not being anti-social," He replied, slamming the disturbed drawer closed and meeting his friend's glare. "I just have other things to do that are slightly more important."
"What, kissing ass in Shinra headquarters? You do that more often than they have prelim cuts, I fail to see how it's more important."
The man sighed abruptly, turning back to his friend. "Why exactly did you come here, just to see how far you could pester me?"
Zack grinned from the desktop. "As if you even need to ask," he answered, arching his back playfully as he watched his friend turn away, rolling his bright mako eyes in contempt. The man walked to the opposite side of the room, setting his stack of papers down among the files neatly strewn about the office.
"Why do you even bother to go?" He asked suddenly, turning to Zack with almost a hint of true emotion. The black haired SOLDIER shrugged, not quite finished grinning yet.
"Probably something to do with the fact that Shinra's run by a bunch of idiot faces in suits. None of them know how to judge a good soldier, not even the Turks. They're all too caught up in themselves to really care about any of them." Zack shrugged again, pulling his legs to his chest. "Most of the time the kids are chosen on how well they've done in their first week here, the instructors have no idea how to tell if someone has hidden talent."
"And you do?"
Zack brushed the comment aside with one hand. "Well gee, Seph, don't give me /too/ much credit or anything."
Sephiroth turned again, his friend's playful sarcasm all too commonplace. "You're really that interested in seeing all of them?"
The black haired man looked to the closed window for a moment, giving the question true thought. "Yeah, I am. I was no different from any of them, you know? I know what they're going through."
Sephiroth continued his work, seemingly unfazed, as a moment of vague understanding passed between the two. Zack may have been no different from the rest of the recruits, but the same couldn't be said for his white haired companion.
Words, thankfully enough, held no real importance between the two men. Battle hardened and experienced, they were of an elite group, and their often uncanny understanding of each other was frequently viewed as the true reason behind their victories. Just /why/ they seemed that way was debatable, but most other members of Shinra had long since decided to leave such subjects alone. It was probably something inherent in the Mako, and if it wasn't, well, no one really wanted to make assumptions about anyone who wielded a seven foot long sword, or a three foot wide one for that matter.
Zack sat still on the desk top, watching Sephiroth file through his reports intently. A hint of mischief began to brew behind his strong blue eyes as he gazed at his friend's back.
"Whatever you're thinking," Sephiroth mumbled, "don't."
"Jesus," Zack let his feet fall off the desk once more, his face downcast. "I don't know if it's worse that you're absolutely no fun, or that you're just plain creepy sometimes." Sephiroth made no attempt to reply, and Zack's scowl deepened. "Tight ass Shinra bitch," He mumbled, glaring away from his friend's back.
Sephiroth finally sighed, turning to the other man with a glare as pure as anything, the intense mako eyes enough to freeze any man. Zack sat on his desk, legs straddling the corner, grinning up at the white haired SOLDIER. "Why exactly do you bother coming here--"
"If all I'm going to do is try to get a rise out of you?" Zack's wide grin never faded. Sephiroth crossed his arms, watching his friend. "Well, I've come to the conclusion that you're good for just two things ... "
"A target for your insubordinate banter and tasteless humor?"
"That's one, yes," Zack's smile finally began to fade slightly into something much more devious as he watched the other man. "Do you want to know the other?"
The look in Sephiroth's eyes failed to change from their slight disdain, but his head cocked slightly, already well aware of what the other man had been building up to. "No," He said quietly, letting his green eyes close slowly as he attempted to conceal what could very well have been mild amusement, "I'm fairly sure I know what you mean, and I resent being used for your own devices."
"Like hell you do," Zack said quietly, his eyes still smoldering as he smiled something truly wicked to the other SOLDIER.
Sephiroth shook his head, a failed attempt to feign his lack of interest, barely hiding a slightly bemused smile, the rare, human emotion enough to speak louder than anything he could have said.
--------------------------------
Failure. Cloud hadn't been brandished with the word too often in his short life, yet there was something about the word that resonated deep within him, as if it could sum up his entire existence, as if it would play an important role in his future.
Such introspective twaddle was getting old, and Cloud let himself roll onto his side once again, staring at the large clock on the barracks wall. It was an hour before dawn of his final day in training, and the young blond had yet to drift off into any sort of slumber.
A few of the other boys began to stir around him, most too anxious to stay asleep for too long. Unfortunately enough for Cloud, he couldn't say he understood how they felt. His anxiety was something wholly different, and while it had fueled most of the recruits on, all of them barely able to contain their excitement for the upcoming events, all it managed to do was bore a hole deeper into the blond, destroying everything around it until even the memories he used to comfort himself with blurred into obscurity.
As long as he had accepted his fate, there were no means left to hurt him further. He would be cast aside in a few hours, by those he had poured himself out to in order to try and achieve what they wanted, no less. The rejection meant nothing to him anymore, he had long since understood it was inevitable. Apathy was truly a great thing.
There was nothing that could help him any longer, nothing that Cloud believed in, anyway. He had been jaded far too long to believe he deserved any sort of miracle, even if it was the only thing that could save him.
Cloud pulled his pillow out from under his head, pressing it down on the side of his face hard, in an attempt to silence the noise and the thoughts rushing about inside his head, and waited for the sun to rise and his day to begin.
--------------------------------
"I said, you're a miracle," He repeated, walking through the door. Zack watched him from behind, attempting to smooth down his tussled hair.
"How so?"
Sephiroth turned to him, his icy facade back in place. "You must be the first man in your position to keep up a positive outlook on life. Even after everything you've been through, and everything you've seen, your personality refuses to be destroyed."
Zack grinned, the observation a very obvious, and very rare, compliment from the white haired man. "Gee, really? A miracle? See, I would have said I was just some marvelous wonder. A Shinra phenomenon. A SOLDIER marvel. A really god damned--"
"Zack."
"Hm?"
"Goodbye."
Zack grinned again, raising a hand to wave his friend off. He may have been going off little to no sleep, but there was something about the day ... The black haired soldier, however common it was to see bubbling over with enthusiasm, felt something ... well, /good/ about it. Zack spun around on his heel, turning away from the other SOLIDER, and began making his way to the training rooms.
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