![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fandom: FFVII
Characters/Pairings: Cloud/Sephiroth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some opponents never fade away.
Notes: The prompt was specifically unromantic, and technically it's not a pairing in this case, but I'm counting it as one. The prompt called for chanbara as an inspiration, and so I ended up with this. Also, I still kind of love the look of Cloud's sword in Kingdom Hearts, even if his outfit is ridiculous. XD This also reminds me of the post-apocalyptic FFVII post-game fic that my ex wanted to write with me, only not full of stupid.
His sword had more bandages than he did these days. The bike had broken down a few miles back due to lack of fuel, and Cloud found that the tiny town in the distance didn't seem to be coming up any closer on the horizon. It wasn't as if he were wandering through a desert; they had made prisons of deserts hidden by amusement parks before, but no longer. Everything had to be lush and green, and the people had taken so many pains to make it so.
It made his head hurt, sometimes a sharp pain behind his eyes.
The world had grown, and he had found himself wandering. He had a place in it once, when the sky was less clear and the trees less high. Before deserts became lakes and the buildings covered in vines.
Cloud had stopped wrapping his wrists when the humidity had made keeping the rust off his sword a daily chore; the wrapping slowed the decay enough, protecting it from the moisture. And he'd long since stopped wearing the uniform for a soldier, but the shape of it had remained in his threadbare sleeveless shirt and dirt caked pants.
The rustle in the brush was too loud for a small creature, and too small for a monster. He spun and pulled the sword from its holster in a practiced movement, narrowing his eyes.
The figure was barely recognizable in this state; long dirty hair chopped unevenly and tied back as an afterthought, long coarse coat and mud-caked boots. If Cloud didn't know the eyes, glowing faintly under the shadow of a brimmed hat he would have assumed it was any other wanderer.
"Cloud Strife." It rasped, and Cloud himself correcting the pronoun, for nothing human spoke that way.
"Sephiroth." His response was more matter of fact than it had been years ago. Emotions had long since dried up for his long time adversary, leaving only a bandaged sword and shoulders tensed for a challenge.
If Sephiroth had let his appearance go, he had certainly kept the Masamune meticulously clean. As any good warrior would, be they ghosts or not. And like every time; they would fight. There was no other way for their meetings to go.
They were both feral nomads now, though Cloud always took note of how the once elegant steps and slices of his opponent got more erratic, like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, just moments before death. No fear, but only instinct, and Cloud had long since become the superior swordsman.
Cloud lost more of the boy he used to be each time, as well.
He only had to roll his shoulder to make the Buster wrench the Masamune from Sephiroth's hands, narrowing avoiding as it spun out of control, the edge just kissing his cheek. Cloud didn't have to bother to raise his blade to Sephiroth's throat, even his madness knew when it was over.
"Hey mister? You lost?"
Cloud blinked, and looked over at the girl, who looked over with large eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He then looked back where Sephiroth had been standing, and found there was nothing but some matted vegetation and a sting on his cheek, as if the man had placed a mark with acidic lips upon him.
Cloud shook his head. "Lead me to the village."
He unwound a bit of the bandages on his sword to raise to his bleeding cheek, and ignored the dark laughter in the distance.
Characters/Pairings: Cloud/Sephiroth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some opponents never fade away.
Notes: The prompt was specifically unromantic, and technically it's not a pairing in this case, but I'm counting it as one. The prompt called for chanbara as an inspiration, and so I ended up with this. Also, I still kind of love the look of Cloud's sword in Kingdom Hearts, even if his outfit is ridiculous. XD This also reminds me of the post-apocalyptic FFVII post-game fic that my ex wanted to write with me, only not full of stupid.
His sword had more bandages than he did these days. The bike had broken down a few miles back due to lack of fuel, and Cloud found that the tiny town in the distance didn't seem to be coming up any closer on the horizon. It wasn't as if he were wandering through a desert; they had made prisons of deserts hidden by amusement parks before, but no longer. Everything had to be lush and green, and the people had taken so many pains to make it so.
It made his head hurt, sometimes a sharp pain behind his eyes.
The world had grown, and he had found himself wandering. He had a place in it once, when the sky was less clear and the trees less high. Before deserts became lakes and the buildings covered in vines.
Cloud had stopped wrapping his wrists when the humidity had made keeping the rust off his sword a daily chore; the wrapping slowed the decay enough, protecting it from the moisture. And he'd long since stopped wearing the uniform for a soldier, but the shape of it had remained in his threadbare sleeveless shirt and dirt caked pants.
The rustle in the brush was too loud for a small creature, and too small for a monster. He spun and pulled the sword from its holster in a practiced movement, narrowing his eyes.
The figure was barely recognizable in this state; long dirty hair chopped unevenly and tied back as an afterthought, long coarse coat and mud-caked boots. If Cloud didn't know the eyes, glowing faintly under the shadow of a brimmed hat he would have assumed it was any other wanderer.
"Cloud Strife." It rasped, and Cloud himself correcting the pronoun, for nothing human spoke that way.
"Sephiroth." His response was more matter of fact than it had been years ago. Emotions had long since dried up for his long time adversary, leaving only a bandaged sword and shoulders tensed for a challenge.
If Sephiroth had let his appearance go, he had certainly kept the Masamune meticulously clean. As any good warrior would, be they ghosts or not. And like every time; they would fight. There was no other way for their meetings to go.
They were both feral nomads now, though Cloud always took note of how the once elegant steps and slices of his opponent got more erratic, like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, just moments before death. No fear, but only instinct, and Cloud had long since become the superior swordsman.
Cloud lost more of the boy he used to be each time, as well.
He only had to roll his shoulder to make the Buster wrench the Masamune from Sephiroth's hands, narrowing avoiding as it spun out of control, the edge just kissing his cheek. Cloud didn't have to bother to raise his blade to Sephiroth's throat, even his madness knew when it was over.
"Hey mister? You lost?"
Cloud blinked, and looked over at the girl, who looked over with large eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He then looked back where Sephiroth had been standing, and found there was nothing but some matted vegetation and a sting on his cheek, as if the man had placed a mark with acidic lips upon him.
Cloud shook his head. "Lead me to the village."
He unwound a bit of the bandages on his sword to raise to his bleeding cheek, and ignored the dark laughter in the distance.
Tags:
From:
no subject
From:
no subject