Chapter Text
It was a late, moody and dark evening when the Crescents arrived in Nibelheim. Cloud had been over at Mrs Blair’s house at the time, who had dragged him inside after he delivered her package, under the pretense of wanting to offer him some tea, only to end up pushing him into her kitchen and asking him to take a look at the leak her sink seemed to have.
Cloud couldn’t complain much. He hardly had anything to do after that, and he doubted anything else would suddenly come up, so he indulged her.
“Ah, you see, your mother and I go way back. She always did prefer her tea with honey — never sugar! And when the weather permitted it we shared walks around the village side by side. You were too young to remember it, but I was right there when you took your first step! Yessir, I was!”
He rolled his eyes and cut his sigh short, focusing instead on the unsteady piece of plastic that he had been attempting to wrap up tightly again — after he found and fixed the issue. Old furniture such as hers always needed maintenance, and old, widowed women like Mrs Blair didn’t have anyone to give them a hand.
“She used to always talk about you, you know, Cloudy-wolf? She never stopped! ‘Shoo, Claudia’, I used to tell her, ‘he’ll come visit soon’! And what do ya know, you always did!”
His back began to bite with a frustrating ache, the weathered wood below the counter digging between his shoulder blades.
“It’s a real shame, leaving us so young… I’ve always said this to you though, didn’t I? You may visit me whenever! I ain’t your momma, but I do like spoiling you whenever I can!”
With a huff, he pushed himself up. “Should be fine now,” he muttered, wiping the sweat off his forehead and reaching for the glass of water she had left out for him, by the teacup he had no intention of touching.
“Oh, it is? How wonderful! You’ve always been so good with your hands, Cloud! It’s a real gift, you coming back here and settling down. Folks like me need young men like you around, you know?”
He nodded along, not really interested in most of what she had to say, even though he knew his ma would have words for him, if had she known of his rude thoughts. He had been musing the same not five minutes ago, anyway.
Cloud had spent a lot of his early adult years on the run. Not hunted, of course, but he never did find a place to carve out of the world to call his own. With nothing but his motorcycle he traveled around and did gigs most people simply didn’t want to do. It was easy, freeing even, and he didn’t regret a second of it even now that the dream of it was over. As the years passed, and his mother fell suddenly sick, he returned home, and never found a reason to leave again. Even after she left him.
He still had connections with people from all over the Planet, and some, such as Zack Fair, even visited him on occasion. He knew that if he ever wanted to return to that life, he could just get on his mechanical saddle and simply… drive off.
For now though, he didn’t see the point. Sure, Nibelheim was hardly a welcoming community, and the people spoke too much about topics he’d rather leave in the past, but he managed just fine. His garage was turned into an actual mechanic and repair shop, and he was trusted by people to deliver letters and packages around the Nibel area during the slower days, driving people to the doctor in Corel or older men to their olive fields on the other side of the mountain when their cars broke down.
It was a simple, quiet life. One he didn’t know he had truly settled into just yet, but he enjoyed the solitude nonetheless.
Maybe it was because he was getting used to that quiet and easy routine that when the sound of tires slowly carrying a car up the concrete slope tugged at his attention. He turned to peer out of the window, Mrs Blair did too, her lips already parting in that countryside intrigue whenever anything new arrived. She even jumped when she more or less confirmed in her mind that it indeed was an unfamiliar sound, different from the growling tractors and the loud trucks most villagers used, brown eyes all but popping out of her skull in plain curiosity.
“That’s one fancy car, Cloudy. Where do you reckon they’re going?”
Mrs Blair was an old woman, and although she quite enjoyed lying to add more to a story that would suffice as it was originally, she never meant anyone any harm. That was most likely why Cloud never lost his temper with her; not when she lured him into her home to make him finish a chore by claiming she wanted to treat him to some baked good of hers or whatnot, or when she acted too much like an overeager child with no manners, or even when she spoke about his mom. With almost everyone else, that last one especially was a topic they didn’t dare breach in front of him. She was shorter than him though, her back curving forward with age, tired in a way only folks in Nibelheim seemed to be. People like her didn’t have much to lose, and she knew he respected her too much to show his mild displeasure with her openly.
“I reckon they’re here for Miss Tifa. She’s had quite the admirers coming after her ever since she set up her establishment, hasn’t she?”
Cloud huffed. He took a few steps closer to the window to watch the black car drive down the only road passing around the village. “They’re probably lost.”
“Oh, you might be right. Lotsa' folks end up stranded out there in the woods. They always send you out to fetch them, don’t they? Zander and his lot.”
“Sure do,” he mumbled. Not really a topic he wanted to get into. He knew Zander 'and his lot' openly disliked him, so they only really asked for his help when they knew it would inconvenience him the most. Or at least it felt that way, a lot of the times. Tifa always told him that he was looking too deep into a non-issue though.
“Well, don’t let me stop ya then! Let me pay you for your troubles and you can be on your way, get a head start on ‘em. Maybe if you tail them you’ll save them from getting their fancy car stuck in a ditch somewhere.”
Cloud accepted the gil and thanked her for the tea he left cold before exiting her home. The street lamps slowly buzzed alight, the soft scent of mako flaring up now that the sun was down and people started retiring back into their homes. Or rather, that would be what they usually did. Instead, as he started pushing his motorcycle forward (he saw no reason for turning the engine on when he was this close to his home), he noticed more and more men walking along the line of houses, around the water tower, then up the small hill steps by the dirt road.
“What’s got them all excited?” he asked Tifa when he reached her house, just a few steps away from his.
Tifa had been the ‘new’ returnee for a while now, and although people had gotten used to her charm, she herself still didn’t think she truly fitted back in just yet. Cloud knew that was bullshit, but he also knew that nothing he said would ever convince her, so he didn’t bother trying anymore.
So, side by side they stood, awkward like ever as neither dared to join in, watching the crowd move along like there was some sort of unscheduled parade.
“Apparently someone’s come to stay over at the manor by the edge of the village.”
“Oh. That car we heard, circling around.”
“Yep… Denzel heard it and came out running. Didn’t manage to see them, though. Bummer, I’m curious!”
“Go follow the herd, then,” Cloud huffed, already pushing his bike forward.
“Ha-ha. I remember some of my manners, thank you very much!”
“Where’s Denz now?”
“Somewhere in said herd, I assume. We have our own spy gathering intel, we’ll learn more about the newcomers soon, don’t you worry!”
“Sure,” he huffed out, shooing her away when she offered to help him open the garage door for him. She had more important things to do, surely, so he didn’t let her waste her time on him.
From here, he could just barely see as lights flickered from between the trees, in the manor’s lowest floor, quiet and dark ever since he remembered himself, coming to life. Multiple people could be heard whispering through the night as he closed the garage door and took out his keys.
Honestly, he was a little curious too. Not to the point that he’d get up and go and stare like a nosy journalist or something, but still. His ma had told him a few stories about the little girl who grew up there, so he knew that at least some years ago the place had been lived in — unlike the stories that were being whispered between kids nowadays, that claimed that it had been abandoned for generations and that only ghosts entered it these days. His mad had told him that the girl moved out one day, and soon enough the old couple who lived there passed away from age. His mother hadn’t even been eight before the manor had been abandoned and forgotten, left to be nothing more than a dare between children during the Pumpkin Fest.
Which would be soon, he realized. They were deep into autumn at this point, and the weather was getting colder and colder up here. Always a welcome change of pace. The one thing he truly didn't miss from the south was how warm it always was.
He lit up a cigarette and took off his shirt, throwing it in the laundry basket as he passed by the bathroom. If whoever came out here came to stay, he’d meet them soon enough. Small village such as this, it was hard not to. Then again, maybe they’d get tired of all the intrusive neighbors and take off before the sun got up again. Maybe Cloud would be woken up by someone knocking at his door to ask him to go pick them up after their fancy car indeed got stuck in a ditch.
He hoped not.
Sephiroth tried to ignore the unease all those eyes on his back caused, choosing to focus instead on the kids, who had been absolutely unruly the whole day. They hadn’t taken well to the car, which was to be expected considering their ages and all the baggage they were transporting — metaphorical and literal both — but even so, he had been pretty clear in his plea for some understanding he had thought.
He wasn’t given any. Loz, the oldest and loudest of the three, kept messing up the directions, the map half-torn in his clumsy fingers. Yazoo kept sobbing, refusing to even attempt to give him his aid, and when Kadaj (who in his defense was far too young to be able to contribute) started weeping and needed to be fed, refused to do his part and forced Sephiroth to stop the car to do it himself. On the side of an unfamiliar and lonely road, while he took care of the youngest, the other two somehow ‘forgot’ to relieve themselves, so by the time they finally reached Nibelheim and the village’s lights guided them the rest of the way, nothing but whines echoed through the car about how they needed to ‘go’.
And now, they were here, after driving all the way around the small houses, through the dirt road that seemed like it barely saw any use. The manor that strange man had given him the keys to — right next to the hospital bed his mother had been dying on —loomed over him while the kids whined about having to carry their traveling bags inside, as what felt like a million eyes watched them.
Kadaj sobbed against Sephiroth's chest, Yazoo tugging on his hand demandingly to hold his, all while Loz stumbled and almost fell flat on his face against the cobblestone flooring that decorated the patio before the main entrance.
“Grab the keys from my pocket, Loz.”
Loz did, his fingers grasping Sephiroth’s belt and feeling around his pants for a moment until he found them.
“Put them in the lock and turn it. You know how to unlock a door, don’t you?”
Maybe he was overestimating the kid. Loz just kept sobbing, wiping his face against his forearm, wetting his shirt. The keys shone and jingled in his small hand as he had his fingers clumsily wrapped around them.
Sephiroth sighed. He let go of the luggage he held on his left, setting it on the dusty floor, and reached for the keys himself. When Loz didn’t understand the gesture, he curled his fingers inwards multiple times. Eventually he got what he was asking for, cold metal reaching his naked palm.
“Dad… They’re all looking…”
“That, they are, Loz.”
The key fit perfectly into the lock, the door still not budging after one twist, nor after the second. Only after turning it four times did the old wooden door groan, Sephiroth needing to hit it with his shoulder a few times before it popped open. The dust that had settled on the door shook loose and puffed inward, somehow still visible in the darkness of the vast living room.
Home.
“Dad…” Yazoo whispered.
“It’s an old house. He said that nobody has stepped foot inside it in years.”
“Dad, it’s scary…”
He wished he could rub the bridge of his nose, but his hands were both full.
He could admit it, though. He could admit that yes, it was scary. It was scary for multiple reasons and none of them were truly in any of their little minds. Firstly, Sephiroth doubted it even had electricity yet, even though he had signed the papers before they had managed to escape Midgar. Secondly, it was awfully dirty, and he was certain at least one type of animal must have found a way in to nest during the early autumn months.
Besides all of those though, the kids were still… kids. They were scared of ghosts, of stories his mother whispered to them in the dark, trying to make them stop thinking about their actual physical pain. Sephiroth instead was…
He was tired, and this place was far too vast to explore at such an hour, with no light source to boot. It was not safe, and he had put too much trust in the hands of a stranger, but he had no other choice. He had come this far, he rationalized to himself.
Loz helped push the luggage he had left on the floor inside, and Yazoo stuck right by his hip, holding on his thigh tightly. Sephiroth, with one final sigh, walked inside and closed the door behind them.
“Dad!”
“Just give me a moment, Loz.” He reached into his pockets again, finding the lighter he had kept with him purely for survival reasons, only using it to light up their portable mako stove.
It was… even bigger than it seemed from the outside. A wide double staircase stretched towards the second floor, rooms sprawled both on their left and on their right. There were sheets, dirtied and melting, covering most of the furniture, adding even more to the creepy ambiance as shadows danced all around. The walls were filled with paintings and photographs, but Sephiroth had no interest in wasting any moment on them at the time.
“Loz, Yazoo. Can you hold onto your brother for a little while?”
“Don’t leave!” Yazoo protested, but when Sephiroth turned to him, he spread his arms to carry Kadaj in a breath. They were all small, but undeniably stronger than they should be for their age.
“I am not leaving. I will look for candles. That there is a couch — it is just covered up, and I bet the one behind it is one too. We will sleep here, and with the morning’s light, we will start exploring and settling down. How does that sound?”
“Bad! I’m scared!”
“There is nothing to fear.”
“Easy for you to say! You’re a dog! Strong!”
He grit his teeth. Seeing as how there was no way to get through to them, he simply let them cling by his sides and allowed them to move along the tall and dark hallways with him.
He found candles, as he had expected. Slowly but surely, they lit them up and then arranged them around the entrance area of the manor, showing more and more of someone's forgotten history, a stranger's past life that had been offered to them for seemingly… nothing in return. Nothing but his mother's dying gaze.
Truthfully, he did not want the sun to rise again. He did not want true light to bathe the land, to show him just what his new life was going to be — for who knew how long.
“There it is,” he muttered as softly as he could, only for the others to jump and hiss in fear at his voice anyway. At least they had water, he figured as he heard the toilet flushing after the two older ones took turns inside.
His PHS was dead, so it was only by habit that he checked it as they all settled together on the old and creaky couches. Kadaj was in his arms, sleeping quietly for once as he got to stretch and hold onto Sephiroth to his heart’s content. Yazoo and Loz were embracing each other on the furniture right across from them, already fast asleep too. It had been a long journey here.
It had been a long week, rather. A long month. He had no true plan for how he'd manage to carry on in this new and unfamiliar life that awaited him, always with his glance thrown over his shoulder, always afraid of the shadows that lurked in such a small and isolated village.
Nobody knew them here, he had to repeat in his mind over and over again. Nobody cared who they were, where they came from.
With a sigh truly unbecoming of him and his upbringing, he settled the boy onto the couch and got on his feet. As quietly as he could muster, with shuffling shoes against old and weathered carpets, he reached the front door, where they had left most of their bags. After a few moments he found the blankets he had stolen, pulling them out and ignoring the mess he left behind, clothes and towels spilling out onto the cold floor. Too tired to pay it any mind right now, he simply shuffled back to the couch, leaving trails in the dust.
None of the kids stirred when he tucked them in. They didn’t complain when he took off their shoes. Not even Kadaj, who simply curled onto himself and let out a quiet whine when Sephiroth slid next to him, pulling him onto his chest again.
He didn’t know what he’d do, how he’d manage to handle them on his own.
All that he knew was that he was tired.
He shut his eyes and tried to let the cold mountain’s night lull him along. Even if tomorrow’s sun was inevitable.