Why had he done it? He'd never know. It was just there, he had to hand over the materia. Then he had fallen, coming slowly to his senses. He had failed his friends by handing over Sephiroth's deadliest weapon right to him. The Black Materia… it would be the undoing of the world, and it was all his fault.

He wondered, as he looked down, what it would be like to splash into the Lifestream itself. He doubted he'd live through it. More than likely, it would suffocate him, returning his spirit to its emerald depths. It would be nice to die, finally. He hadn't wanted to live much lately, so dying was a welcome alternative. He saw it get closer.

His life was flashing before his eyes. Surely, he was going to die. Childhood, adolescence, adulthood, it was all there, and it was all going to be gone forever. A pity, he thought. He wanted to remember….

Then he hit. It was just more air, but air that warmed and supported him. It was like a bed after a long, hard day. He sank into it and it embraced him like a lover, soothing his very soul to calmness and contentment. However, to sleep would be too easy. He had to fight and to claim his memories as his own and make sure they were worth remembering.

My name is Cloud Strife, and I want to save the world. It was his identity. It was all he had left. His body was floating away; he could no longer feel it. As he sank deeper into the roiling river of souls, his grip was loosening on reality, on his own reality. He held on tight.

My name is Cloud Strife, he thought hard, defensively. My name is Cloud Strife. I was born in Nibelheim. My father died when I was little. I grew up with Tifa. Tifa… she was something else tangible and real. It was all he needed. The green glow was seeping into his mouth and nose; he made no move to stop it. It flowed into him – through him – so the circulation of the planet and his own respiratory and circulatory systems were all one and the same. I grew up wanting to be in Soldier. I did it. I was First Class….

The memories flew before his eyes, at first three-dimensional and in full color, until suddenly they stopped. His brain didn't really hold that memory; he didn't remember becoming First Class. He remembered telling people about it, but he didn't ever remember really being it. As he sunk into memories, gave up on repeating himself, something weird happened.

Someone else had the reigns of his brain. His nervous system became one with the heart of the planet. The Lifestream, flowing through him, penetrated him even deeper. It rifled through his memories, his joys and pains, losses and gains. There was no emotion, just a surge of knowledge, of experience. Even gentleness.

Just as the boy was beginning to relax, he realized that he had nothing to relax. He was completely losing himself and his body. With a jerk, he tried to recapture himself. His name, the first step was to remember his name….

My name is Kiranou, and I wanted to find my home. It was his new identity. The flashes of greenery, of woods and hilltops, a desperate search for home, struck him. He was a young wolf, just freed from his mother, and forced into a world who didn't want him. He had fought; he had been through so much before he had found a home. It was a safe place; a small territory, and with only one or two casually interested females. But it was home, it was all he needed. He had achieved his goal.

Cloud, at once, suddenly knew everything of what it was to be the wolf named Kiranou. He had been witty, for a canine, and made up for his lack of size with sheer audacity. It got him his territory in the end, when he caught the oldster that used to have his territory in a trap. Kiranou had fathered a few sets of pups, ones he barely cared for except that they'd continue his lineage. Then he had died in his due course, in a fight with a much younger wolf. Such was life.

Cloud felt pity for the soul, what was left of this one creature. It bubbled in his mind, Kiranou's consciousness brushing this and that, commenting on Cloud's interests and abilities. He praised the accomplishments, mourned the deaths, and in the end, wished his new host luck towards his goal. Cloud was grateful. He had wondered if he really was on the right course.

My name is Twinfoil and I wanted the sun. Both of them had a newer identity. There was no vision this time, just the knowledge that there was darkness when there should have been light. They were always so cold, down there. They had never grown beyond the first sprout. Dying had been slow and downright terrible. There was nothing but birth and death for Twinfoil.

This was a new voice, a scarily young voice. This entity that slipped in with Cloud died young and rebellious. It was an angry spirit. Twinfoil thought, it had been robbed of life, of a full life like Cloud or Kiranou. It wished ill upon its creator, its father and mother; the tree that had forever towered over it and never let it grow. The tree's spirit was not in the Lifestream. It, accursed thing, was still alive.

There was sympathy in whatever Cloud used to think of as his heart. That was impossible now, of course… he had no body, he was little more than a spirit like the rest. But he felt deep-rooted pity and sympathy for the piteous thing, robbed of life so young.

Kiranou had other thoughts. He said that death was a part of life. Why, some of his pups had died infants. It was part of the game. Some live, some die. The key was to make more than were stolen away. He had no pity. Predators were like that.

Cloud found himself caught within the confines of his own brain, and two distinct entities in there with him. They were at odds, a wolf and a tree, both conscious and willing to argue over the meaning of life as he watched and listened and felt.

As he watched, he became aware of others. They were indistinct and vague. Some whispered their names, whispered so low he couldn't hear anymore. They gasped of ages past. They were only a hundredth of what that used to be, having lost parts of consciousness and voice to other souls, newer conglomerations that the Lifestream churned out as needed. Every new soul was nothing but the recycled pieces of dead ones. Every soul had suffered losses and rebirths. Only the recent-dead could name themselves and their stories.

As Cloud tried to listen, tried very hard to remember the times when there was nothing but sea and heat. When souls were microscopic, just hoping to find their simple prey before they divided. He saw the world as an amoeba did, as patches of safe and unsafe. He felt the need to part and wrench apart himself so that he could continue living. He realized how hard it was to be simple.

At that point, Cloud felt something new. It was a hefty spirit, a powerful creature that had only recently passed here. He could feel shame, sickness, and pain. It was that fresh. He could see blood, the entity's blood as it was seen in its dying eyes before it faded away. It was a corrupted soul, ancient and forgotten by all.

My name is Dargile. No, that's wrong… my name used to be Aphazarkil. I… I just wanted to be myself again. It was a new, powerful identity. He was low and aggressive, a monster. But before, he insisted feverishly, he had been a Cetra. It was only when he had gotten sick that he had changed, beyond his senses and beyond recognition. He remembered his friends, faces of his past before he had lost them all, one by one, to the virus. After that, he had been lost himself.

But this was not to die. Death was too easy. This virus corrupted them all. All the Ancients were violated by Jenova's virus and turned into monsters. Monsters! The proud Cetra, destroyed by a simple disease….

All were silenced by this booming feeling of disappointment. Not a single spirit could find words for a second, knowing that they were in the place that was in the most danger from Jenova. The Lifestream was her target and her goal. Every soul within it feared that she would tap into it and draw them all out, to be used as fuel. It was bad enough to be burned for electricity by ShinRa….

My name is Stephanie, and I wanted to be successful. She had worked for ShinRa. She had gotten some great breaks and was rising in the ranks. She had a husband and children and was well down the path towards a career. After growing up in Midgar and clawing her way out of poverty, she felt she deserved to use the planet as it had once wanted to use her. Then a tragic accident ended her life and she ended up here.

Aphazarkil did not comment, but his anger and dislike was evident. Twinfoil scoffed in its own way. Kiranou offered his approval, but it was cold and almost indifferent. Stephanie had succeeded in her life. That was enough for him. Cloud was just trying to remember.

ShinRa… he had had something to do with ShinRa in his life. He couldn't remember what. He knew his dislike for them was more than just inherited from his current company. They had wronged him in his life. But he just couldn't remember. Everyone was in the way, in his head…. And they weren't alone.

My name is Rayne, and I wanted to escape. She had been caught in a dead-end job in the slums, and was carrying a child with no father who would help. So she had run, run away, and –

The memory stopped. Rayne apologized; her soul had gone into something else already! She couldn't tell any of them much more. She remembered a death by fire and a few sunny evenings of her childhood. That was all she had to offer.

My name is Disseriv and I changed the world. He was a confident member of the colony, a rebel in a world where one had to conform to survive. All the guards were always watching him when he went out to forage. They were the ones who fulfilled the Queen's orders to have him beheaded. He remembered being alive being able to see his dying body twitch. The world of ants was dangerous and bloodthirsty. Rebellion would not be tolerated.

My name is Cassie and I just wanted my kittens to be safe. A fellow mother, Cassie had been out on a farm, a young feline adept at catching mice, until that tom stud came along. She had her kittens, washed and cared for them, but when her friends, the tall ones, found them, they disappeared. She looked and looked, but there was no trace of the kittens left except for faint remnants of scent on the tall ones. She almost died of grief. The second and third times it happened, however, she understood, and she had run away.

My name is Tohoshi and I don't remember who I was… but I had a name.

The voices were getting fainter as they crowded in, all calling out what they were trying not to forget.

My name is Teren and I wanted to actually be happy. My name is Melantha and I wanted to be remembered. My name is Mike and I wanted to be a rock star. My name is Bicar and I wanted to be better than my brother. My name is Lamont and I wanted to find what was lost. My name is Seville and I wanted to be left alone. My name is Cary and I wanted to be popular. My name is Margo and I wanted a family. My name is Kedris and I wanted everything. My name is Toomin and I had all I wanted, except to keep it forever. My name is Pinaera and I wanted to be the best.

It was his turn. He knew it. But he couldn't speak. All the other thoughts crowded out his own, pushing them aside like unwanted garbage and refuse. He stammered.

My name is… is…. He couldn't do it.

He was too much to be just one name. He had a dozen names, twenty, a hundred, a thousand! He was a face in a pool, a passing reflection that was just a tiny piece of the whole. He was Kiranou, Twinfoil, Aphazarkil, Stephanie, Rayne, Disseriv, Cassie, Tohoshi, Teren, Melantha, Mike, Bicar, Lamont, Seville, Cary, Margo, Kedris, Toomin, Pinaera, and a million others besides. He was old and young, mobile and immobile, sightless and full of vision. He felt and reacted to everything that every soul had ever experienced, it was flowing in his brain, firing every synapse at once. Everything was opening and closing, thoughts and emotions and memories were buzzing, like he had, a locust in a storm. He'd forgotten who he was in favor of remembering everything. Every Ancient now-dead housed his or her memories in his fertile mind. Every dead human was giving him tips and the learning of their lives. He knew how to thrive as a bacterium, because he was all of them, too.

My name is Zack, and yeah, yada yada, I wanted stuff, but you guys are crowding Cloud. Give him some air. He's not ready yet. Zack had grown up aching to be a hero. He had gone off to join Soldier as a boy and was soon promoted to First Class. He was a great fighter and had a grace and ease that everyone admired. He'd suffered for the last few years of his life, though.

It was a very familiar story, and a familiar reflection Cloud saw in Zack. That was his story, the one he'd adopted. Now he could tell it like it was his own.

"Except it's not," Zack's voice, in his head. "It's my story. I'm the Gongagan. You're from Nibelheim, kid. Snap out of it. You don't belong here." Cloud felt pity, pity for this preserved body tossed into the realm of the dead. "Look, kid," Zack said, "you need to go. You haven't gotten what you wanted yet."

But not everyone did, though. The general consensus among the spirits was that, like Twinfoil, some died before they could achieve their goals. Why did Cloud get to go? Was that his name? Cloud? He tried it out –

My name is Cloud. Cloud Strife. I wanted…. He hesitated.

My name is Aeris Gainsborough and I wanted to save the world with you, Cloud. She was a strong girl in unlikely and unfortunate circumstances. She was selling flowers on the corner, she was falling in love, and she stayed in love until the day she died. But she was not like the rest. She was as powerful as a Cetra, but uncorrupted and younger. Her youth was her strength. Cloud liked her.

"Cloud, we're all rooting for you," she said. "You won't remember this. But you're Cloud Strife, no one else, and you want to save the world and your friends. You want too many things to say shortly. You want safety, you want attention, you want love, you want your mother, you want Zack, you want me, you want to go to the past, and you want to move on. You want to be forgiven, but you've done nothing wrong." A flood of warmth washed over them all as Cloud felt himself pulling away, separating.

"You'll be okay," the soft whisper continued.

Zack was there for a moment longer. "Take care, kid."

He wanted to reply, but the connections were dying out. Only the ghosts of people and memories remained. He was pack leader and he was a dying sprout, but those were things of the past. He was suddenly physical again. Nothing seemed to work right, as if he'd been re-assembled in a hurry and by unsteady hands. His eyes were probably in the right place, but they were fuzzy and he saw only shadows. He managed to make out a vague shape. He wanted to communicate somehow. Did his voice work? His throat felt like it was a million miles away, and that there were obstacles that would impede the sound. However, he felt he could do it. There was no way to find out but to try.

"Gurk?"