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Cloud’s eyelids fluttered in response to the heavy thud of boots on the wooden floor. Still half-asleep, he let out a muffled curse from beneath the bedcovers. How was it that a drunken Barret had snuck into bed like a shadow the night before, but now, sober, he was louder than a chocobo stampede?
Cloud blinked, trying to remember falling asleep. He couldn’t. His mind was too preoccupied with the one thing he could remember—the sting of Aerith’s rejection.
He hadn’t meant for things to go that way. They had just arrived in Kalm, exhausted from the journey. After some urging from Barret and Tifa, Cloud had allowed the drinks to flow more easily than he usually permitted himself. He wasn’t the type to drink to excess, but the intensity of the last few days—his conflicting memories, the ever-present shadow of Sephiroth—had made him reach for one too many.
That’s how he’d ended up outside Aerith’s door. The details were blurry, but he remembered the quiet of the hallway, the warmth of her presence as he entered her room, and how his body seemed to act on instinct when he kissed her. He had expected her to pull away immediately, to tell him to stop. But she hadn’t—at least, not at first.
Her lips had been soft, warm, and for a fleeting moment, he had felt something stir inside him—something real, something beyond the confusion that usually clouded his mind. But then she had pulled away, her hands gently resting on his chest to stop him, not forcefully, but with an understanding that made his heart twist.
Even through the haze of sleep, the feel of her hand imprinted itself onto him. Beneath the blanket, he unconsciously placed his own hand over his chest, where she had stopped him. His heart was still pounding, the ache of that moment lingering.
The thought of seeing her at breakfast made his stomach turn. The inevitable awkward silence, the forced small talk—did he really have to face her today? If it weren’t for Barret’s thundering boots, maybe he would have never woken up at all.
A final heavy crunch from the door signaled Barret’s departure, and Cloud reluctantly stirred. He lifted his head just enough to scan the now-empty room. Red was gone, too—apparently, they were all early risers.
He groaned and buried his face back in the pillow. Wasn’t anyone else exhausted? They had only defeated destiny a day ago, yet somehow he was the only one feeling it. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing sleep to take him again, willing himself to forget last night—if only for a little while.
But it was no use. Sleep eluded him, and with each passing second, the gnawing in his gut grew worse. The day had arrived, and whether he liked it or not, he was awake. Breakfast felt more daunting to him in that moment than whatever awaited them on their journey. What was Sephiroth planning? What had he meant by “seven seconds”? And how were they supposed to stop him? None of these questions weighed on him quite like the thought of facing Aerith.
The smell of Kalm’s famous breakfast drifted up from the kitchen, the scent of fried eggs and bacon cut through his fog of regret. The bitterness of last night lingered in his mouth, mixing with the sourness of the hangover. Maybe that could be his excuse—not feeling well, too hungover to deal with the morning.
But no. Cloud took a deep breath and swung his legs out of bed, feeling the cold wooden floor against his bare feet. SOLDIERs first-class didn’t cower from hangovers—or from anything else, for that matter. His gaze shifted to the Buster Sword leaning against the wall, the sunlight reflecting off its massive blade, casting long shadows across the room. For a moment, he considered it—an instinctive thought, as though even breakfast required him to be battle-ready. The temptation was fleeting. A huge sword at the table? Even he knew that would be a bit much.
With a sigh, Cloud pushed the thought away. He steeled himself, the familiar tension in his chest building as he prepared for the anguish that awaited. Whatever happened, he had to face it—hangover or not.
*************************************
“Well, look who finally decided to get up,” Barret bellowed, grinning as Cloud neared. “Slept off that hangover, huh?”
Cloud’s stomach coiled as he approached the large oak table, where Barret, Tifa, and Red were already halfway through their meal.
“Good morning,” Tifa added with a smile, though her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than usual. “How are you feeling after last night?”
Cloud’s chest tightened. Last night. Did she know? Had Aerith said something to her? His eyes darted across the table, searching for the pink ribbon that would signal Aerith’s presence—but she wasn’t there. Relief.
“Can’t remember, huh?” Tifa chuckled, though her laughter seemed strained, her gaze flickering with something unsaid. “You were pretty out of it when you left. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it back to your room or not.”
“Oh… right,” Cloud replied, forcing himself to relax. “I guess I did.”
Barret kicked a chair out offering it to him. “Come on, sit down. A cup of Kalm’s finest will fix you up. The three of us have been up for ages—can’t let a hangover slow us down.”
“Might I remark that not all of us had quite so much to drink last night” added Red, as he licked his plate clean.
Cloud slid into the chair as a tall black haired server arrived, pen poised to take his order.
“Good morning sir, my name is Broden and I will be your server today. What can I get for you on this morning?”
Cloud hesitated. The thought of eating made his mouth flood with acid, a bitter, burning sensation rising from his stomach. Before he could answer, Tifa jumped in. “What would you recommend for someone who overdid it last night?”
“Our very own Kalm Inn Special would do the trick—fried bread, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and beans. We call it ‘The Forgetter’s Breakfast’. Perfect for a rough morning!”
“I’ll just have black coffee,” Cloud muttered trying to swallow the acid back.
Broden gave a rye smile. “Ah, yes, we call that one ‘The Regretter’s Breakfast.’ Right away.”
He placed a steaming mug down infront of Cloud, the clay adorned with an intricate design of folk flowers traditional to the region. Cloud took a sip—it was good, but he knew it would take the entire mug to feel even remotely human again. His gaze drifted to Tifa, who was absentmindedly picking at her food, seemingly deep in thought. There was a quiet heaviness in the air between them. Cloud could sense something was bothering her, but the dull ache in his skull was too distracting.
“Good service here, don’t you think?” She said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was light, but Cloud could sense the effort behind it. “It’s nice to feel welcome somewhere after everything… An establishment like this, so inviting and warm, it makes me think about Seventh Heaven, you know… what it could’ve been.”
Her words trailed off, a trace of sadness pulling at her expression. Barret spoke up with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Tifa… yesterday was for grievin’. Today’s for fightin’. We gotta look forward, not back.”
He turned to Cloud, his tone shifting. “What about you, SOLDIER boy? What’s the plan?”
Cloud opened his mouth to respond, but before he could answer, he felt another presence at the table. His heart compressed as Aerith appeared, her smile gentle but her eyes holding that same knowing look from the night before. “Morning, everyone,” she greeted, sliding into the remaining empty seat beside him.
“Morning, Aerith!” Tifa said, her usual warmth returning. “I’m sorry we started without you. I was going to wake you, but you looked so peaceful.”
“That’s ok.” Aerith replied “To be honest, I was grateful for the lie in. I could have slept for days.”
Cloud’s pulse quickened as she settled next to him, her leg brushing his lightly, sending a shock through him. Instinctively he leaned back, folding his arms as a way to shield himself from the overwhelming rush of memories—the sweet saltiness of her lips, the warmth of her body. He closed his eyes, but this only sharpened his senses. She smelled of rose water—she must have showered, an idea that devastated his self control all over again. He felt powerless to the thoughts that now poured into his head. Aerith naked in the shower, steam curling around her soft curves, her drenched hair sticking to her body, water rippling down her skin. He wanted to press his fingers onto her and trace every drop. He wanted to pull her soaked body close to his.
But then, just as quickly, the memory of her hand on his chest came crashing back—her gentle push. The fantasy dissolved. Why had she stopped him?
He forced his eyes open, willing himself back into the present. His pulse raced, and a flush of heat crept up his neck. With great effort, he refocused on the conversation at the table, determined to shove the unwelcome erotic thoughts aside.
Broden’s attentive return to the group was a welcome relief.
“Good morning miss” he said leaning towards Aerith, “can I interest you in a heart warming breakfast today?”
“Thank you” she replied “I’ll just have a black coffee.”
“Most certainly! Another ‘Regretter’ it is.”
*************************************
Barret let out a deep sigh of satisfaction, pushing away his empty plate. “Kalm’s legendary breakfasts do not disappoint!”
Cloud stared into the bottom of his coffee cup. He hated to admit it, but the coffee had been a remarkable potion. With each sip, the tension that had gripped his head since waking slowly loosened, leaving thoughts to manifest with more focus—ready to think about what needed to be done.
“Listen,” he said, his voice commanding the group’s attention. All eyes turned to him. “We have to stop Sephiroth. When we fought the whispers, and walked through that portal… I saw things.”
“You mean that vision of Red running with those other lab-rat-dogs?” Barret asked, his brows knitted in confusion. “I saw that too. What the hell was that?”
Red XIII lowered his head, his tone heavy with loss. “That was a glimpse of tomorrow, had we failed to defeat the whispers. Those ‘lab-rat-dogs’… they were my children. The children I was destined to have, but now, that future is gone.”
His fiery ears pressed back, and his gaze dropped with composed sadness. Aerith reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on his paw. Red met her eyes, his own glossy with grief.
“Then why in the hell did we walk through that portal?” Barret asked, still puzzled but with more sensitivity this time. “Why change things if it was gonna take away what you had?”
Red’s voice was calm but resolute. “Because it’s not just my future that changed. It’s all of ours. We’ve altered the planet’s destiny.”
“I saw something too,” Tifa chimed in, her voice contemplative. “A massive ball of fire, hurtling toward the planet. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but now… could that have been the planet’s fate? Did we stop it?”
“No,” Aerith’s voice rang out softly. “We haven’t saved it yet. When we defeated the whispers, we didn’t change the future—we only made it possible to change. What matters now is what we do next.”
Cloud listened quietly. He too had seen something he hadn’t shared—a figure kneeling in prayer, materia sinking into water, and a shadowy form in a silver lake holding something lifeless. His thoughts churned as Sephiroth’s voice echoed menacingly in his head: “Seven seconds till the end. Time enough for you, perhaps? But what will you do with it?”
Shaking the words from his mind, Cloud refocused, his tone sharpening. “We need to regroup and get moving. Sephiroth’s out there, and we can’t let him slip away.”
Barret folded his arms, his face drawn with frustration. “No shit, but where do we even start? That silver-haired psycho could be anywhere, and we ain’t got no clue where he’s headin’.”
Red XIII nodded, his tone measured. “Barret’s right. We need to gather ourselves first. Kalm has resources—supplies, merchants. We should take the time to prepare our weapons and stock up. Rushing in unprepared would be reckless.”
Tifa nodded in agreement. “I heard the materia store here is one of the best.”
Cloud paused, considering their words. "Alright. We’ll stock up and prepare. But we can’t stay here long. Sephiroth won’t wait for us."
*************************************
After breakfast, Cloud headed to his room to retrieve the Buster Sword, the lingering effects of his hangover having started to fade. The buzz of the breakfast conversations still echoed in his mind - Red’s solemn reflections, Barret’s determination, Aerith’s... A knock at the door broke his thoughts. Cloud exhaled, was it her? He opened the door, it wasn’t.
“Tifa,” he greeted, standing there awkwardly for a moment. He felt both relieved and disappointed.
Tifa smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Hey. Feeling better?" she asked, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.
“Yeah. The coffee helped,” Cloud muttered, running a hand through his hair. He shifted slightly, unsure of where to stand. The tension between them felt heavier now that they were alone.
“I figured” she replied more softly. ”I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me to the materia store? You know, stock up before we head out?”
Cloud nodded slowly. "Sure. We need to be prepared."
Tifa leaned against the doorframe, her toned arms crossed casually, but her posture betrayed her unease. "Look, Cloud, about last night… you seemed pretty out of it. Are you sure you're okay?"
Cloud froze for a moment, her question hitting closer to the mark than she knew. His mind flashed back to Aerith—a moment he’d rather forget, but couldn't. “I’m fine, Tifa.”
Her brow furrowed, frustration rising to the surface. “I get it, Cloud, but you know you don’t have to carry everything by yourself, right?”
Cloud avoided her gaze, the weight of her words making him feel more exposed than he was comfortable with. “Yeah… I know.”
An awkward silence hung between them. Tifa bit her lip, clearly wanting to say more.
“Cloud,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “Do you even remember what happened last night?”
“What do you mean?” he replied confused. He felt a rush of cold inside, did she know about the kiss? The thought brought with it a swell of guilt he couldn’t quite understand.
Tifa sighed, her crossed arms tightening her chest as she met his gaze. “We talked… out on the roof terrace? I confronted you about your accusation?” She paused, watching his face for any sign of recollection. “You suggested I died back in Nibelheim. That now I’m some kind of… imposter!”
Cloud’s stomach tightened as the memory began to stir, the fog of the previous night starting to clear. He had met her in the hallway on the way back to his room—the wound of Aerith’s rejection still fresh. Tifa had wanted to talk. He had followed her upstairs to a roof terrace overlooking the flickering lights of Kalm. He could almost hear her voice in his mind—her anger, her hurt. She had lifted her shirt, the moonlight illuminating her milky skin and tracing the jagged scar along her ribs. It wasn’t just proof of her survival back on Mount Niebel—it was her exposing her deepest insecurities, her fragility.
“How could you think that of me, Cloud?” she had challenged him, her voice shaking with a pain he so rarely saw her release. Then, in the haze of alcohol, reeling from his own rejection, Cloud found himself move closer to her. His hand reached out, his fingers landing softly at her waist. He brushed his thumb lightly over the purple ridges of the pain that was etched into her skin. It was as if by touching it he could somehow make both of their hurt disappear. The intimacy of the moment startled him, he knew he had crossed a line. What was wrong with him? Tifa tensed under his touch, and he snapped his hand back.
It all came flooding back now, and he felt a deep sense of guilt. He had forgotten. Last night had been such a blur, but that moment—that confrontation—should have stayed with him.
“I remember,” Cloud said, though his voice sounded more certain than he felt. He glanced at her, seeing the hurt consuming her body, and it made him feel even worse. He placed a tender hand on her shoulder “I know you’re you, Tifa. I know.”
Tifa’s brown eyes searched his for a long moment, as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth. She looked like she wanted to believe him, but he could see a suspicion was taking root within.
Cloud’s heart moved quickly. Inside, a familiar nagging doubt crept up on him—the same unease that had followed him for years, the uncertainty that plagued his fractured memories. What if he was wrong? What if the version of her in his mind wasn’t real?
But he forced those thoughts down. Tifa was Tifa—his oldest friend. The one who always saw the good in him, the one who found him in Midgar and helped him back on his feet, the one who was always there for him. That was all he needed to believe right now.
“I’m sorry,” Cloud added, the words thick in his throat. “About what I said. I… I didn’t mean it.”
Tifa nodded slowly, her expression softening, but the sadness still there. “I know.”
The silence was deafening as they stood there caught in a web of unresolved emotions. Finally, Tifa took a deep breath and gestured toward the door.
“Let’s go to the store,” she said, trying to sound lighter.
Cloud nodded, grateful for the change in subject. He reached for the Buster Sword that was resting against the wall. The weight of it on his back was a comfort, grounding him as he tried to push away the tangled mess of his thoughts. "Yeah, good idea."
*************************************
The streets of Kalm were a tranquil contrast to the bustling chaos of Midgar. Cobblestone pathways crisscrossed the town, winding between quaint houses with ivy-clad walls and old stone chimneys that puffed lazy streams of smoke into the open blue sky. The soft hum of daily life filled the air, accompanied by the smell of freshly baked breads and sweet fruits. Some merchants were beginning to set up their stalls along the central square, as locals walked leisurely, exchanging pleasantries as they passed by. Above it all, Kalm’s famous clocktower stood tall, its face weathered by years, silently marking the slow, steady pace of life in this peaceful town.
The sounds of life accompanied Cloud and Tifa as they walked to the materia shop, but the noise felt distant compared to the silence that lingered between them. Cloud couldn’t help but steal a few glances at her, unable to ignore the quiet energy she carried. Despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface, Tifa always moved with grace and dignity, even when she was upset.
Her long, velvety hair swayed gently with each step, and Cloud noticed how the brisk walk seemed to help her unwind. The fresh air cooled her off, the way the crisp mountain breeze would calm her down when they were children. Still, the earlier confrontation clung to him. She had been bottling so much up inside. Maybe she was missing her typical release—pummelling fiends with her fists. In hindsight, the figurative punch she'd thrown at him the night before made more sense, a sign of her pent-up frustration finally spilling over.
At first glance, the materia shop was an unassuming building tucked between an array of other shops. Its stone facade, weathered with age, was half hidden by creeping vines and small, glowing lanterns that hung from the awning. A large panelled window dominated the front, showcasing a mystical hanging display of materia that pulsed faintly with an inner glow. Inside the daylight filtered through the orbs, creating an almost magical dance of colors on the shop floor. Every corner of the establishment glowed a different hue—deep reds, shimmering blues, vibrant greens, all casting ethereal lights across the shelves. In the middle of the shop stood the centrepiece, a rotating alter proudly displaying rarer, more exotic materia, their auras swirling like miniature galaxies.
“This is incredible” Tifa gasped. Cloud was silent, but his eyes widened with quiet amazement. They wandered the aisles each investigate the enchanting displays with more detail. Tifa perused over to a glass cabinet lined with sphere after sphere of twinkling purple materia, orbs of enhanced Luck, Magic, Speed glistened next to their labels. Cloud, meanwhile, gravitated toward the sapphire blue materia—they shimmered with the same intensity of his own eyes. He scanned them carefully, looking for something useful.
The shopkeeper, an older man with greying hair, approached them with a friendly smile. “In search of something specific?” he asked, eyeing the two with curiosity.
“Just stocking up for a trip,” Cloud replied.
“I’ve never seen so many different kinds of materia all in one place!” Tifa added, awe radiating from her voice.
The shopkeeper nodded proudly, glancing at the shelves of glowing materia. “Most of what you see here is lab-grown,” he explained, tapping the edge of a nearby display. “Shinra’s been producing these for decades now. Good quality, but nothing like the real thing.”
“Real thing?” She replied curiously.
The merchant grinned, as if excited to share a secret. “Naturally occurring materia, deep within the planet. It’s much rarer, formed over centuries by the Lifestream itself. More powerful than anything Shinra could ever make, but harder to find. Most folks have never even seen one.”
Tifa picked up a red orb, turning it over in her hands. “But these still work, right?” she asked.
“Oh, they work, alright. Just saying, if you ever find a piece of natural materia… well, you’ll know the difference.”
Cloud exchanged a glance with Tifa, but the silence between them persisted. They browsed a little longer, filling a basket with new materia neither of them had ever encountered. They would have plenty of time to practice on the journey ahead. Tifa placed their selection on the counter to pay and the shopkeeper eagerly obliged, polishing each one delicately as he packed them up. Cloud watched from a far, with the lingering tension between them the urge to escape was strong. He waited for the right moment to excuse himself, when suddenly, Tifa spoke up.
“So, uh… these lab-grown ones,” Tifa started, picking up a small yellow Chakra materia and holding it up to a nearby light. “Do they come with an expiration date or something? Because, I swear, I bought one of these from another shop back in Midgar, and it barely lasted one encounter with a Toxirat.”
The shopkeeper chuckled, shaking his head. “No expiration dates, miss. Though I’ve heard some folks say that if you don’t talk to the materia enough, they get shy. They stop working altogether!”
Tifa raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Shy materia? Now that’s something Shinra doesn’t advertise.”
“Absolutely! They get embarrassed if they’re not in the spotlight,” the shopkeeper said, his tone light but filled with humor. “That’s why I keep the ones in need of attention right at the front there,” he gestured to the window display smiling “they get all the glory they desire from the passersby! Keep ‘em close, talk to ‘em, and they’ll do wonders for you.”
Tifa laughed, and even Cloud found the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Tifa said, handing over the gil. “Maybe Cloud here should give it a try too. I’ve seen him go through materia like socks.”
Cloud rolled his eyes, unable to resist a small grin as the tension dissipated. “You’re not serious.”
“Who knows?” Tifa shrugged with a mock-serious expression. “Maybe your Cure spells would work faster if you gave them a pep talk.”
The shopkeeper laughed, handing them their purchase. “It couldn’t hurt!”
For a moment, the heavy atmosphere that had weighed on Cloud and Tifa since the night before seemed to lift. The awkwardness from the Nibelheim conversation and Cloud’s memory receded, at least on the surface. They exchanged a glance, and though the past was far from resolved, there was a quiet understanding. Humor had bridged the gap between them, if only temporarily.
As they exited the shop, Tifa looked up at Cloud, her smile softer now, more genuine. “Guess we’re all set, huh?”
“Yeah,” Cloud said, his voice lighter than it had been all morning. “Thanks for… that.”
Tifa waved it off, pretending not to notice the gratitude in his tone. “No problem. Just try not to blow through your materia before we even leave Kalm, okay?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll do my best.”
They stood there for a moment before Tifa shifted slightly, “Ready to head back?”
Cloud hesitated.
“Actually,” he said, his tone carefully neutral, “I think I’ll stay out here for a bit. There are a few things I want to check out around town.”
Tifa looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she nodded, her smile returning. “Okay. Just don’t take too long. We’ll need you when we head out.”
“Yeah, I’ll catch up soon,” Cloud promised.
As Tifa turned and walked back toward the Inn, Cloud watched her go, feeling both relieved and unsettled. Their friction had been smoothed over for now, but the unresolved emotions—both about their past and the kiss with Aerith—still simmered beneath the surface in him.
He turned away from the shop and wandered down the cobbled streets of Kalm. He needed time. Time to sort out the tangled mess in his mind, to make sense of the memories that didn’t quite fit. And maybe, just maybe, a few moments alone would help him figure out what he wanted—both for the journey ahead and for himself.
*************************************
Kalm was the oldest inhabited town in North East Gaia, its exact founding lost to time. Shira’s archaeological department had reported that the earliest buildings had been erected whilst the Cetra’s still dominated the Grasslands. The lyme ashlar walls that had once been a golden hue had faded over centuries to a muted grey, but they remained as strong as the day they were erected—a steadfast symbol of the early human settlers’ need for protection against invasion.
Strategically close to the ocean, Kalm initially thrived on fishing, but over time, the channels that had been built to support its industry transformed into a network of quaint canals that wound gracefully through the town. Once essential for trade and sustenance, these waterways now served as picturesque backdrops for tourists. In high season, crowds from Midgar flocked to pose on stone bridges that arched gracefully over the water, but this morning the town was quieter. Locals went about their routines—fishing or playing Queen’s Blood over coffee at open-air cafés.
Cloud, wandered alongside the canals, watching the sunlight dance across the water’s surface, creating a pattern of shifting golds and silvers that reflected playfully onto the stone walls of nearby buildings. Small wooden boats bobbed up and down and there was an occasional splash of oars cutting through the glassy water. The rhythm was hypnotic and for a moment Cloud felt some form of peace. Kalm stood in stark contrast to the colossal industrial machine of Midgar, yet it was only a short distance away. He had heard you could see the Midgar reactors from the top of the Clock Tower. He wondered whether you could see the devastation of the fallen Sector 7 plate too? The thought shattered the tranquility, and Cloud’s brief peace dissolved into a familiar heaviness.
As he turned a corner, Cloud spotted Red XIII perched near a small fountain. The large, red-furred beast sat in a patch of sunlight, his fiery tail swaying lazily. As if sensing Cloud’s approach, Red lifted his head, a look of ancient wisdom in his yellow eyes that always unsettled Cloud just a little.
“Cloud,” Red said in his deep, rumbling voice, rising to his feet. “You must have finished gathering materia, I’m sure you came across some interesting finds. The materia merchant of this town is known across Gaia for his impressive collection. I remember meeting him once at a trade fair in my homeland, Cosmo Canyon. Quite the sense of humor, if I recall?”
“Sounds about right” Cloud replied with a mild smirk.
“I’ve been thinking…” Red continued in a more reflective tone, “I never properly thanked you for saving me from Hojo’s lab.”
Cloud shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the praise and the memory of some of the horrors he had witnessed in those fluorescent lit laboratories. “We were just getting you out of there.” he replied. “You didn’t deserve what he was doing to you. No one does.”
Red XIII shook his head, his expression serious. “It wasn’t just freeing me from the cage. It was freeing me from the life Hojo had planned for me. You and the others gave me something I hadn’t had in a long time: a chance to choose my own path.”
Cloud wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t heared this level of emotion from Red, they had only known each other a couple days. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’re all in this together. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Maybe not. But know this, Cloud—I intend to stay with you. On this journey. Not out of obligation, but because I choose to. Hojo… he would have made me a tool, just like he does with all his experiments. You saved me from that fate. Now, I fight with you.”
There was something reassuring in Red XIII’s words. Cloud gave a small nod. “I’m glad to have you with us.”
Red XIII inclined his head. “I trust you’ll need me before this journey is over. I’m ready for whatever comes next.”
With that, Red XIII settled back into his resting position, his fiery tail flicking behind him. Cloud watched him for a moment before nodding and turning away. The conversation left him feeling a little lighter, knowing that Red XIII’s loyalty wasn’t out of debt but out of choice.
As Cloud walked toward the center of Kalm, he found himself thinking about the people around him—the ones who chose to fight beside him, just like Red XIII. But there was still a lot Cloud couldn’t shake, a lot he needed to face.
*************************************
The townspeople of Kalm—so-called Kalmians—were renowned for their welcoming, homely demeanor. Despite keeping his head low, Cloud had lost count of how many greetings he’d received while passing through the village that morning. A merchant, standing in the doorway of the weapon store with a pipe in hand, had enthusiastically complimented the sword slung across Cloud’s back. Further down the street, a woman called from her balcony, warning him to watch out as she watered the vibrant pink flowers trailing from her windowsill. Even some of the more somber faces had invited him to play a round of Queen’s Blood, a gesture that, though simple, felt genuine.
For Cloud, though, the friendliness felt overwhelming. Used to disappearing into the chaos of cities like Midgar, where anonymity came easy, here in Kalm, he felt exposed. The warmth of the locals, while well-meaning, left him feeling slightly out of place, as though he didn't belong in their world of calm familiarity. He wondered if he would have drawn less attention had he left his mercenary gear at the Inn. But even the thought of walking the streets without his sword and armor left him feeling vulnerable in a different way—naked to the world in ways he wasn't comfortable with.
“Cloud!” Came a familiar low bellow from a nearby doorway. He turned to see Barret, his broad frame taking up much of the entrance to the tavern, The Serene Duke.
“C’mere Merc, Let me buy ya a drink” he called signalling him over.
Cloud grimaced slightly, his stomach twisting at the thought of alcohol after last night. “I think I’ll pass on that. Still recovering from… whatever I was drinking.”
Barret let out a booming laugh, clearly amused by Cloud’s rare admission of weakness. “You? Hungover? Damn, that’s a first. Fine, fine, I guess morning drinking ain’t the done thing in this place anyhow. How’s about lunch? Ain’t no good fightin’ on an empty stomach.” Before Cloud could protest, Barret waved over the bartender, shouting their order “Two of those Kalm pies you folks rave about! And don’t skimp on the meat!”
The bartender, a man with a carefully trimmed chevron moustache, soon returned with two plates. Each held a golden-brown pastry adorned with delicate leaf patterns and topped with a bright orange turret jutting from the center.
“Err… what is it?” Cloud asked, staring at the odd dish.
The bartender’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Ah, this, sir, is our local delicacy—Munttoren. A delicious pie filled with rich meats and seasonal vegetables”
“And, er… that?” Cloud gestured toward the penetrating item.
“Ah yes, the Zegham Carrot represents our beloved Clock Tower that stands majestically over the town.”
“I see.” Cloud replied unconvinced.
“Smells mighty good to me” Barret retorted tucking in enthusiastically.
Cloud’s hunger had returned somewhat by now and he picked at the pie with intrigue. The buttery pastry flaked in his mouth, the rich gravy coated his tongue, and the gamey flavours warmed the pit of his stomach. The meal was just what was needed to regain some strength.
Barret leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. “Not bad. Not bad at all. If I’d known the food out here was this good, I’d have taken a real vacation. Bet Marlene would’ve liked this too.” His voice softened, and a hint of sadness crept into his tone. “She deserves more time with her daddy. If she only knew how much he misses her. It ain’t right, you know? Leavin’ her behind.”
Cloud glanced at Barret, feeling his own perspective shift. Beneath the gruff exterior, Barret was carrying just as much weight as the rest of them—maybe more.
“You’ll bring her here one day,” Cloud offered, unsure of what else to say.
Barret gave a faint smile. “Yeah… maybe one day.” He sighed, shaking off the melancholy before focusing back on Cloud. “But enough about me. What about you? You’ve been lookin’ like you’re carryin’ the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Cloud shifted uncomfortably, Barret had never asked him about his feelings before. “I’m fine,” he muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.
Barret gave him a knowing look, his eyes sharp. “You’re full of it, you know that? I saw you last night, chasin’ after Aerith up to her room.”
Cloud’s stomach dropped.
Barret chuckled, his tone teasing but kind. “Nothin’ wrong with that, kid. I was young once too. And Aerith... there’s somethin’ special about her, ain’t there? She reminds me of someone I used to know. The spirited type, always speakin’ her mind, but with a heart of gold. Yea, girls like that, they don’t come ‘round often. But hey, you’re not short of options, are you?” He let out a roaring laugh and gave Cloud a hearty slap on the back. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll make sure Tifa don’t find out.”
Cloud stared at Barret, taken aback. His mind raced, trying to process whether Barret was being serious or just trying to get a rise out of him. The idea of Tifa finding out anything about him and Aerith sent a chill down his spine.
Noticing Cloud’s discomfort, Barret waved it off with a grin. “Relax, man. I’m just messin’ with ya. Whatever’s goin’ on, you’ll figure it out. Just don’t let it eat you alive, alright? And whatever you do—don’t break any hearts, we’ve got a long journey ahead. As we say in Corel ‘don’t shit in the car you’re drivin’.”
That hardly reassured him and he sat there mute. Barret, sensing his unease, patted him gently on the shoulder. “Tell ya what,” he said, his voice softening, “take another walk around town. Clear your head before we set off again. Trust me, it’ll help.”
Cloud hesitated but nodded. “Yeah... maybe I will,” he murmured.
Barret grinned, raising his glass of water in a mock toast. “That’s the spirit. And hey—no more drinks ‘til we take care of Sephiroth. Deal?”
“Deal,” Cloud replied quietly, before stepping out of the tavern.
The sun was high in the sky now, and the streets bustled with people going about their day. Cloud glanced around, contemplating which direction to walk next, his thoughts askew. A pang of guilt gnawed at him, Barret's offhand remark about not telling Tifa had hit a nerve. Why did it bother him so much? Cloud didn’t want anyone to know about the kiss with Aerith, but especially not Tifa. His mind raced with uncertainty—did she already know? Maybe that explained her irritability earlier in the morning.
Cloud felt defensive. So what if he’d kissed Aerith? It didn’t matter, did it? There was nothing between them—he knew that now. It had been one-sided, a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Yet the conflict still weighed heavily on him as he began to move again, slipping into the crowd, hoping the anonymity would help him escape the turmoil churning inside.
*************************************
The crowd carried Cloud further north into town, where the market was in full swing. The once-quiet streets now buzzed with life, and although he was relieved there were fewer greetings, the sheer noise of the market was deafening. Voices clashed in the air as grocers shouted out specials on fresh produce, their carts overflowing with colourful fruits and vegetables. A fishmonger waved a large orange specimen in Cloud’s face, attempting to make a sale, while a nearby chocobo squawked, pulling a cart of giggling children behind it.
Further ahead, an older man dressed in a worn waistcoat approached Cloud with a crooked smile. "Care for a charm, son? Keeps the spirits away." He held up a small, hand-carved talisman, the wood weathered but intricately detailed. Cloud hesitated, unsure whether to decline or accept, but the man winked and placed it in his palm, curling his fingers around it. "No harm in a bit of luck, eh? You look like someone who could use it. This one's on the house."
The talisman felt rough in Cloud’s palm, its surface smoothed from years of handling. "Thanks," Cloud muttered, pulling his hand away, not entirely sure why he had accepted it.
“Plenty more interesting finds down that way, young sir” the old man added, gesturing toward a westerly side road. "A friend of mine deals in rare items—things you won’t find here in the market. Crooked shop full of antiques, just past the Clock Tower. You can’t miss it. Tell him Godfried sent you."
The man gave him a final knowing smile, a mystical glimmer in his eye.
Though uncertain, Cloud welcomed the opportunity to escape the thickening crowds and veered off down the side road as suggested, the market noise fading behind him.
At the end of the narrow, winding road a majestic stone tower rose proudly as the town’s central landmark. The grey stone facade was crowned with an enormous gold clock face, delicate engravings that glistened in the afternoon light. The steady ticking of its hands echoed faintly in the air, like the heartbeat of the town, threading through the distant hum of voices and footsteps. Cloud slowed his steps, momentarily captivated by its grandeur. But as his gaze drifted downward, his breath caught—standing near the base of the clock was a familiar chestnut-haired figure. His heart tightened.
Aerith stood there swaying gently as though lost in thought. She hovered near the doors, seeming to hesitate, her gaze occasionally drifting around, almost as if she were waiting for something—or someone. The scene felt strikingly familiar to Cloud. He remembered the first time he had seen her on Loveless Street, wandering about with her basket of flowers. Back then, she had seemed so out of place in the chaos of the city, yet completely unaffected by it, like a flower blooming in the cracks of the pavement. At that moment, he never could have imagined how much she would come to mean to him, or how quickly those feelings would take hold.
But now, those feelings caused him nothing but pain. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. What had he been thinking last night? Cloud lingered in the shadows for a moment longer, watching her from a distance, unsure of what to say—or if he should say anything at all. But fate seemed to make the decision for him.
A passerby, hurrying along the narrow road, brushed past him abruptly, knocking him off balance. Caught off guard, he stumbled forward, stepping directly into the street—right into Aerith's line of sight. She looked up immediately, her mesmerising green eyes locking with his. Her soft expression brightened, and before Cloud could even gather himself, she smiled and called out his name.
Embarrassment flushed his face as he raced to straightened up, awkwardly brushing himself off. His mind flashed back to the kiss—how she’d rejected him and how foolish he had felt afterward. Of course she’d rejected him. He had come on too strong, too fast. How had he let himself fall for her so quickly? And now, as if things couldn’t get worse, he was literally stumbling at her feet. The weight of her gaze settled on him, warm yet uncomfortably steady, making the heat in his cheeks burn even brighter.
“Cloud, are you alright?” she called again, her voice light and cheerful, waving him over. There was no turning back now.
Cloud approached Aerith, his steps slowing the closer he got. He couldn’t meet her gaze, not after last night and this humiliating fall. In that moment he felt too big for his body, clumsy and useless. Desperate to break the silence, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the words tumbling out without grace: “What are you doing here?”
The question hung in the air, sharper than he intended, cutting through the quiet in a way that made him wince inside. He immediately regretted it. But Aerith, in her usual way, diffused the moment like sunlight breaking through clouds. She smiled, her eyes dancing with that playful glint he had come to expect from her. “I’m not sure, really,” she teased, her voice light as a breeze. “I guess I was waiting for you.”
Her words, so simple and kind, wrapped around him for a brief moment. “You have?” The hopeful question slipped out before he could stop it. Aerith smiled gently, her expression soft, but he couldn’t tell what it meant. Had she been serious, or was it just a lighthearted tease? The uncertainty gnawed at him.
She turned, tilting her head up to the Clock Tower, her expression full of quiet awe. “Pretty amazing, right? Someone was telling me it was built back when the Cetra were still around… kind of cool huh?”
“Yea” Cloud managed to respond, though his voice was flat, distracted.
Her gaze drifted back to him, softer now. “Cloud, I was meaning to find some time to talk to you…”
He knew what she wanted to talk about, but the thought made his stomach churn. The rejection had been hard enough—he didn’t need a post mortem.
“It’d be nice to find somewhere private,” she added, her eyes flicking toward the towering structure above them. “You want to climb the clock tower together?”
Cloud hesitated. He didn’t, not really—but at the same time, he did. He wanted to be with her, to feel close to her. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked inside, a small burst of bravery.
“Sure, let’s” he replied, surprising even himself.
*************************************
By the time they reached the top of the clock tower, the air felt heavier than the wind that swept through. The sun cast long shadows across Kalm, but Cloud could barely see the peaceful scene below. His thoughts were all over the place, every breath felt tighter as he stood next to Aerith. The weight of the previous night hung between them, an invisible chasm neither of them could cross.
Aerith leaned against the stone railing, her gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of Midgar. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How small it looks from here,” she said softly, her tone almost detached.
Cloud nodded, barely hearing her. His heart hammered in his chest. All he could think about was how much he’d messed up. How could he have let his feelings spill out like that? He wanted to apologize, to explain that it wasn’t just the alcohol, but the words felt trapped in his throat, strangled by his own confusion.
“Cloud…” Aerith turned to him, her eyes searching his face.
His heart sank, and he braced himself, shame and regret constricting him.
“…Did something happen between you and Tifa?”
The question caught him off guard. “What?” He stammered, confused.
“Don’t look so shocked,” she smiled “we’re roommates you know?”
“She say something?” he retorted defensively.
“Not about you two, no.” Aerith shook her head. “Still, I can tell… You two mean a lot to each other. I just... I would’ve given anything to have a friend like that growing up. Don’t take her for granted.”
Cloud’s confusion quickly gave way to frustration.
“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” he blurted out, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice.
Aerith stayed silent, and it only made the tension worse. This wasn’t the Aerith he knew—her coyness was aggravating. Why was she bringing up Tifa? Why hadn’t she mentioned the kiss? The weight of it all pressed down on him, and he reached for the railing, feeling dizzy.
“Look, about last night…” His voice cracked, the words barely holding together.
“Cloud, it’s okay” she interrupted.
“No, it’s not, I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You were right to stop me.”
Aerith’s eyes met his, her expression warm, without a trace of judgment. “You were vulnerable,” she said softly. “I couldn’t take advantage of that.”
Cloud clenched his fists at his sides, the leather of his gloves wrapping tight around his knuckles. His gaze dropped to the stone beneath his boots, he wanted it to give way. “It wasn’t just the alcohol,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What I did, Aerith… I meant it.”
A long silence stretched between them, the wind the only sound that filled the space. Aerith searched his face like a lighthouse, looking for something steady amid the haze. The gentle evening breeze swept wisps of her fine hair across her delicate face. Her expression was hard to read—part warmth, part sadness, as if she already knew where this conversation was headed, but didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“I know,” she said, stepping closer to him. “But I also know that you’re carrying so much, Cloud. I think…” she hesitated “until you figure that out… I don’t think you really know what you want.”
Her words cut deeper than he expected. Cloud looked up at her, his chest bound by her comment. There was something so calm, so understanding in her voice, as if she wasn’t pushing him away but guiding him toward something he couldn’t yet face. “How can you be so sure?” he asked, anguish thickening his words.
Her lips curled gently, that same knowing smile that made him feel exposed, like she could see right through him. “Because I see it in you, Cloud. You’re still trying to figure out who you are. And that’s okay. You don’t have to rush this.”
Cloud swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words sink in. He hated that she was right—hated that she saw through the layers he had built up around himself. But more than that, he hated that he didn’t have an answer for her. He wanted to say that he was sure, that his feelings for her were real and clear. But everything—his past, his fractured memories, the shadow of Sephiroth—was still so messed up inside him.
“What if I never figure it out?” he asked quietly, closing his eyes.
He felt the warmth of her fingers arrive gently on his arm, grounding him back in reality. “You will,” she said softly. “I believe in you.”
For a moment, Cloud allowed himself to believe her—to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could figure it all out. But there was still a part of him that feared what he might find when he did.
Aerith stepped back slightly, her hand slipping away. “When you’re ready,” she said with a small smile, “I’ll be here.”
Cloud looked up at her, his throat tight, his eyes wet with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. He wanted to pull her close, to kiss her, to tell her that he didn’t need more time, that he wanted her now, forever. But the truth was, he couldn’t. He knew she deserved more than his uncertainty.
For now, all he could do was nod, acknowledging her words and the unspoken promise between them. They would face whatever came next together—but until Cloud found himself, the rest would have to wait.