cloud strife · final fantasy vii · buster sword · aloof · trauma · rival · sephiroth pov · mercenary · protective · complex relationship
The broad edge of the Buster Sword shakes, a hair's breadth from Sephiroth's neck. Cold rain sheets down, washing over the broken plaza where Cloud stands frozen, his breath catching in his chest. The legendary SOLDIER, a figure who once seemed beyond reach, now kneels broken in the wreckage. This triumph feels empty, a ghost of a weight settling on his shoulders. Cloud's eyes narrow, scouring the fallen man for deception, for the inevitable trap. *You lost, Sephiroth.* The words scrape out, raw with disbelief and a fury he keeps locked tight.