Notes: I haven't exactly done much research into Shisui's character yet; I only have his portrayal in "I Will Love You Always" to go on, so please keep this in mind.

Warnings: Expect major spoilers for both series. My stories are generally more character-driven than plot-driven, so there's that. Also, this is undeniably silly.

Disclaimer: Naruto and FFVII belong to Kishimoto and Square Enix, respectively, and the title comes from "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons.

I.

Shisui comes to consciousness harshly, lungs gasping for breath and attempting to expel non-existent water from his parched esophagus, and it takes him entirely too long to realize a few key things. Firstly, he is very much alive, despite his carefully planned out suicide via 'drowning'. Secondly, his senses are dulled, and his thoughts are sluggish; near death experiences generally cause a spike in awareness and heart rate, so he surmises he's been drugged quite heavily. And, thirdly, an unrecognizable (but undeniably friendly) voice has been murmuring assurances to him (presumably) since he became aware of his surroundings.

The sharp intakes soon dissolve into hacking coughs, and the owner of the voice, still spouting "It's gonna be okay, Spikey"s, moves closer and begins rubbing his back soothingly. He doesn't have it in him to flinch away, and so he and the other person remain in that position until his coughs putter into nothing. His breathing soon regulates itself again, and he attempts to ascertain the state of his body. Despite the influence of whatever is running through his system, he can tell that he's most probably malnourished, which explains the stomach pains and dry mouth.

"Hey, uh, Cloud, you with me, little guy?" Then there's that unfamiliar voice. Shisui wasn't labeled a prodigy for nothing, and (despite his recent failures,) his abilities in combat and intel gathering are nothing to sniff at. Thus, it wouldn't make any sense for him to forget someone's voice, much less that of a friend. Upon realizing that his eyes had been squeezed tightly closed, he opens them, and an equally unfamiliar face greets him.

Well, Shisui had already deduced the fact that he didn't know this man. No, the reason for his slack-jawed response to the sight is simply because during his last clear memory before this confusing turn of events, he gave away his remaining eye to Itachi. He shouldn't even be able to see the young man staring at him with such concern.

Unbidden, his free hand (the other one being used to prop himself up on the ground behind him) shoots up to his face, and, heedless of the guy hovering over him worriedly, he stares at it in bemusement. Setting aside the fact that Shisui can't recall his hands being gloved, he comes to the obvious conclusion that someone had revived him and, while he was out of it, given him new eyes (and gloves.) Itachi didn't know about his second plan; he hadn't told anyone. If Shisui didn't know any better, he'd pin this on Danzo, but that paranoid bastard wouldn't have come after Shisui himself. And the lake had been empty save for him.

He's broken out of his musings by a strong grip on his shoulder, and his apathetic gaze follows the attached arm up to its owner's distressed face. "Cloud, buddy, are you okay? Do you understand what I'm saying?" The undisguised anxiety in the man's pleading reaches Shisui through his languid fog, and, not wanting to chance another coughing fit, he merely nods slowly.

The effect of his response is immediate as the man visibly slumps in relief. Running a hand through his wildly spiky hair, the guy breathes out, "Thank God!" Then, apparently realizing something, he hastily leans forward and inspects Shisui intently. "Do you remember what happened?" Gesturing his own gloved hand at Shisui airily, he elaborates, "To make you like this, I mean."

It takes him a few moments to process the question before he shakes his head. The man seems at once slightly disheartened and thankful for Shisui's ignorance; nevertheless, he presses on, "Okay, so General Sephiroth—You know who he is, don't you?"

He doesn't know anyone by that name, and what a strange name it is. He shakes his head, and the man says, "Oh, well, he went crazy for some reason and attacked us. I got knocked out pretty quickly, and next thing I know, I wake up in a Mako tank with you right beside me." His face scrunches in anger here, and Shisui struggles to figure out the significance of a 'Mako tank.'

As if sensing Shisui's confusion, he explains, "That's why you're so out of it. I was okay 'cause I already had some in me, but you never touched the stuff, you know?" Well, the mystery of his lethargy has been solved, but so many more questions have appeared in its place. He's never heard of this 'Mako', and, unless Danzo has been keeping even bigger secrets (which Shisui wouldn't put past him), Konoha hasn't heard of it either.

The man continues, rather somberly if sincerely, "I managed to break us out, but don't ask me how long we were in there. I'm glad you can't remember any of it, Spikey." Ignoring the (what he assumes is a) nickname, Shisui wearily shifts in his spot and meets the measured glance thrown at him. "It's been a few months since then, and you've been in a coma until now." The man's lips quirk at the last statement, apparently grateful Shisui is no longer a useless rag-doll. He can't exactly blame the guy.

Still, though informative, none of this explains how Shisui 'survived', or, perhaps more pressingly, why this man is confusing him for this 'Cloud.' He toys with the idea of speaking for a moment, hand rising to rub his neck absentmindedly.

"Oh! Here," the man speaks up from his side, pulling out a cylinder container and holding it out for Shisui to take. He does so upon registering its purpose, inwardly lamenting the effects of the drug on his cognitive abilities, and he happily gulps down half of bottle's contents, relishing the taste of water after what seems like an eternity without it. When he has his fill, he wipes away the drops escaping down his chin. He spots a fond smile adorning the face of the other man, most likely in response to Shisui's childish behavior.

He takes this time to actually scrutinize his unknown companion. The man, though rather visibly muscular, sports a youthful appearance, what with spiky, obsidian hair slicked back away from his face save one unruly lock, a boyishly charming grin, and glowing, blue eyes. Change the eye color, tack on a perpetual scowl, and you'd have an Uchiha. He fleetingly considers the idea that this man has a dojutsu (because shining eyes are considered strange even in the Leaf Village) before disregarding it. Shisui isn't even certain the guy's a shinobi.

Once again, his sun-kissed compatriot breaks the silence. "All better now, bud?" His gaze hasn't left the haggard Uchiha throughout their various interactions or even Shisui's bouts of contemplation, and his hands keep twitching at his sides, as if he isn't sure what to do with them. From what Shisui's gathered so far, the other man seems to be the talkative, gets-along-with-everyone type, and the restlessness displayed thus far indicates his associate's preference for action.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he comes to a decision after concluding two things. First and foremost, if this guy is a shinobi, which Shisui very seriously doubts, he isn't a very good one. Secondly, he continues upon letting out a noiseless exhale and pinning the other male with a considering look, as long as he's vulnerable to the heretofore unknown substances in his bloodstream, this man is his only source of both information and necessities. A quick glance at the cave around them only serves to steel his resolve.

Mouth set, he clears his throat and then asks, tone carefully neutral, "Who are you?"

He does not notice the crestfallen expression of the other man at his perceived amnesia, nor does he realize his mouth has fallen open comically in the shape of a small 'o'. No, his only concern at the moment involves neither of those things. Dehydration and lethargy can only contribute so much, after all. The timbre of his voice is smooth and deep, but the question he'd uttered was breathed with an inherent monotone and was a pitch off.

Flummoxed, he suddenly remembers his gloved hands and then studies his body for any more incongruities. His torso is clothed in a high-collared vest, complete with a set of shoulder pads and some sort of armor around his midsection. His standard issue pants have been replaced with sweatpants made of the same material as his shirt, and matching boots adorn his feet in place of shinobi sandals. He belatedly realizes his outfit matches that of his companion, piece for piece.

Well, his clothing change could be explained away by the fact that his normal attire would have been drenched along with him during his tryst in the lake, and his arms are the same slightly tanned shade as his memories.

He moves automatically to grasp the forehead protector he already knows isn't there, and his hand clasps around hair instead—Hair that should, by all rights, not be there. Shisui had hair long enough to curl over his hitai-ate, sure, but his forehead had remained bang-free. Now that it's been brought to his attention, his hair couldn't possibly be long enough to rest against his cheek, and yet two shocks of it have been and are doing exactly that. Mechanically, he seizes one of them and brings it into his line of sight.

Blonde. Not dark brown. He tugs experimentally, and, ouch, yep, that's attached to his head.

Shisui reflexively reaches for his chakra to dispel the Genjutsu, and he is swiftly reminded of why he'd been staving off doing so to begin with. On top of his drugged state, he is suffering from severe chakra depletion. He winces at the backlash, and a wave of fatigue washes over him, leaving an ache in his limbs and a stinging pain in his chest. And there's that theory scrapped; the only way for an illusion to work is by feeding off of or interfering with the victim's chakra flow. Considering his weakened condition, such cautionary measures wouldn't even be necessary, anyway.

Forcing himself to calm down, he looks to his frazzled acquaintance and demands, in that unnaturally monotonous voice, "Who do you think I am?" He doesn't consider this man to be a threat (i.e. the one responsible) because his actions thus far have been nothing but genuine. Whether or not the friendly demeanor will remain when Shisui reveals his true identity remains to be seen.

The man picks up on the peculiar wording almost instantly and inquires in return, "Who do you think you are?"

Raising an eyebrow in response, he points out, "I asked you first."

Smiling faintly, the guy capitulates, apparently unwilling to delve into such a childish argument. "I think you're Cloud Strife, my fellow 'backwater' buddy." His words are slightly mocking, and Shisui figures the last bit was meant to spark some recognition from him. As it is, Shisui doesn't have any shared experiences with this guy, and he's never lived in any of the 'backwater' villages littered across Fire Country.

The odd dialect doesn't escape his notice, either. The man called him 'Cloud Strife', not 'Strife Cloud', and he'd thought it odd that some of his words had rolled off of his tongue weirdly when he'd spoken earlier. And not only have his appearance, voice, and speech patterns changed, but the guy in front of him has slightly foreign features as well. The only noticeable differences between villages have little to do with facial structure, and they have a unified language.

It's becoming apparent that, despite the seeming impossibility of it, Shisui has ended up in a rather precarious situation far away from his home.

II.

Zack doesn't know whether to be elated or freaked out.

Cloud finally woke up—really woke up—and that's great 'cause with the little guy asleep, he's had way too much time to dwell on depressing things, and talking to himself got old fast. And, you know, his best friend isn't catatonic and creepily unresponsive anymore. So he should be ecstatic, right? Except Conscious Cloud isn't all that different from Unconscious Cloud, and it's all he can do not to shake his buddy into full wakefulness.

Zack's always been surrounded by people, has been socializing since he learned how to string two words together, and he's not ashamed to admit that this whole situation has been weighing down on him and ruthlessly stomping out his natural optimism. And that's not even getting into how much being on the run from the company he once idolized has affected him. He honestly can't help but to fidget anxiously as he waits for Cloud to get himself together.

So when the blonde's first words are "Who are you?" Zack is understandably distressed.

'Seriously?' and 'Are you kidding me?', along with a multitude of other asinine exclamations, are swallowed down with difficulty, and Zack settles for allowing Cloud to inspect his clothing in peace. Meanwhile, the ex-Soldier's mind is running rampant with possibilities. He hadn't been surprised when his friend hadn't remembered the fight with the ex-General or the experimentation because, as he'd mentioned, Cloud hadn't been exposed to Mako beforehand. Zack can barely recall either, and he'd been pumped full of the stuff.

Admittedly, he has no idea what the experiments were for or what they were meant to do, but if the greenish-blue glow of Cloud's eyes are any indication, then it obviously has something to do with his old division. Considering the fact that his friend's eyes resemble Sephiroth's, that could only mean the former cadet and, most likely Zack as well, have levels of Mako that rival that of the renegade First Class. Could that stuff have any negative effects on the memory?

He abruptly focuses on the younger boy—Man, now, it seems—who is leveling Zack with an assessing gaze from his slouched position against the wall of the cave. Not a moment later, Cloud practically commands, "Who do you think I am?" What? That's a weird way to put it. It's almost as if he's implying that Zack's memory is the one that's faulty. Mako can't... alter memories, can it?

Deciding to test this theory out, he turn the question back on the guy. "Who do you think you are?"

Unamused, the little guy quirks an eyebrow and retorts, "I asked you first." And it's such a Cloud thing to do that it manages to bring a small smile to his face, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"I think you're Cloud Strife," he informs the other male, almost teasingly, adding, "my fellow 'backwater' buddy" in the hopes of stirring his memory or something. His face doesn't light up in remembrance, and Zack is forced to consider the very real possibility that Cloud's memories have been, if not tampered with, then instinctively repressed in order to protect himself from the trauma. Nevertheless, technically, the two of them are strangers at the moment, and Zack has gone too long without a proper conversation to let this news be anything more than a minor nuisance.

Heedless of Cloud's lapse in attention, he extends his hand, and when his amnesic comrade looks up, Zack introduces himself cheerfully, "Zack Fair."

End Notes: Considering all of my other ongoing stories, this fic won't exactly be a priority. However, I am excited to write for it, which is always a good thing, and updating should be considerably easier since chapters will only average 2k or so. *she says every time she posts a new story* Anyway, let me know what you think, and if you actually want me to continue.

Leave a review?