Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Kingdom Hearts. They belong to Squaresoft and Disney.

Author's Note: When I originally conceived this story back when I first played Kingdom Hearts, the initial concept was to incorporate a "Heart of Darkness" and "The Odyssey" storyline, tracking Cloud's journey through hell to reunite with Aerith. However, I was very hesitant to write a novel length piece of fanfiction, even though this was a story I really felt compelled to tell. So I opted for a more non-linear approach, something of a minimalist approach for a maximum payoff, as I like to describe it. Whether I succeeded or not is for the reader to decide.

I took great liberties with this story, borrowing from several of the games that Cloud and Aerith appear in for a more natural approach. But please understand that I consider Kingdom Hearts to be separate from Final Fantasy VII and the like. While the characters retain similar personality traits, they did not lead the same lives as they did in the other games, so if their backgrounds seem unfamiliar, that was intentional.

The Demon Without

If a man steps into the darkness of hell, how many steps can he take before he can no longer see the line, before he can no longer make his way back to the light?

That was the question Cloud Strife asked himself as he stood in the threshold of the Hollow Bastion library's doorway, face to face once more with the woman that meant the world to him.

It had been nine years since he had last laid eyes on her, nine long years without her in his life. As he gazed upon her, he could see that she had changed little in their time apart. If anything, she had only become more beautiful with time, her mahogany tresses a little darker than he remembered, her jade eyes wizened with age. She had shucked the red half-jacket she once wore, preferring the simple pink dress that hung from her body by two thin straps.

He took a few steps in her direction, she doing likewise, only to find that his feet reluctantly propelled him forward.

The steps he had taken to bring him to that particular place and time were not ones that he was overly proud of. He had traveled through the heart of darkness, had embraced its very essence, all for one more chance to set his eyes on the woman he loved. And now that he was here, now that he had achieved what he had sought for so long, what he had fought so desperately for, suddenly he was left with a feeling of unworthiness, as if he didn't deserve to be here with her now.

Heart, mind, body, and soul. The parts that constitute the entire being of a person. He had become a monster, an intimidating figure, given over to the darkness.

His hands were stained with the blood of innocents, his soul corrupted by the power of darkness, his position that of right hand man to the God of the Underworld. He glanced quickly at the gold clawed fingers that now made up his left hand, could feel the solitary leathery demon wing that had sprouted from his back of its own accord, concealed presently only by the tattered crimson cloak he had accessorized himself with.

He hadn't always been this thing. Once upon a time he was normal, human. Once upon a time he had gazed upon Aerith with natural blue eyes, not the bright blue Mako-infused eyes that revealed what he was, what he had become. The distance between the two of them rapidly dwindling, Cloud's fist clenched in nervousness as he recalled the first time he had set those normal eyes upon Aerith, before he became what he was now.

Heart, mind, body, and soul…

His fist struck hard and true, catching the mugger full in the face, knocking him back off his feet, causing him to crash unceremoniously in a heap on the ground, kicking up dust.

After that, one look into the hard eyes and intense features of the fist's owner was enough to spook the thug. Getting back to his feet, the punk turned tail and fled, his two partners-in-crime following closely in his wake, none of them once looking back.

When they had finally disappeared over the horizon, Cloud turned back to the girl he had just helped. She was young, about thirteen or fourteen, the same age as he, with long brown hair tied off in an elaborate braid by a pink ribbon and radiant eyes the color of emeralds, lending her a striking appearance. She wore a short-sleeved crimson red half-jacket over a light pink dress that ran the length of her legs, stopping to reveal a pair of ungainly burgundy boots that, while something of an eyesore, were far more advantageous for the daily grind in this kind of city environment. A basket carrying a surfeit of colorful flowers was slung in the crook of her arm.

It was love at first sight, and Cloud knew, even at such a young age, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had met the girl of his dreams.

He tried to speak, but any words he tried to issue forth only seemed to get stuck in his throat, though he wasn't completely sure why. "Are you all right?" he finally managed to squeak out, genuinely concerned. He ran his hand nervously through his blond spiky hair.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks to you." She smiled, and Cloud found himself absolutely captivated by how her face lit up with just the slightest curve of her lips. He quickly turned his attention to the ground in an effort to keep from staring at her beauty. "My knight in shining armor," she finished.

If only she knew the truth about him, he thought, about the demons in his past, the skeletons in his closet. The darkness that tarnished the armor.

"So what did those guys want from you?" he finally asked, slightly abashed, eyes still focused on the dusty ground, one booted foot absently kicking the other; a nervous gesture to be sure.

"The usual: money. Those ruffians hang out in this area, harassing the local vendors. I guess it was my turn again." She shrugged.

"So what's a young girl like you doing selling flowers anyway?"

"Making a living, of course." She constructed her response in such a way as to suggest that the answer was a fairly obvious one.

"What about your parents?" he asked, curious.

"I don't have any. Not anymore." Cloud detected a hint of sadness in her inflection, though it was slight enough to suggest that she had had plenty of time to come to grips with their passing.

But it seemed they had something in common. Cloud had lost his father before he could even remember him, and his mother had passed away a few years ago from a terminal illness. "Me neither," he responded, perhaps as a means of consoling her. He wasn't completely sure of the reasons himself.

"We must be soul mates, then," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Well… um…" he stuttered, at a loss for how to respond, kicking at his boot again, and found himself surprised by how much he genuinely liked the idea.

She gave him a playful smile, obviously very amused with herself. "Relax. I'm just teasing you."

"I… uh… I know." He responded sheepishly, doing his best to recover gracefully, though quite sure he was failing nonetheless.

"So what about you?" she asked.

"What about me?" he replied quizzically.

"Wait, don't tell me." The girl began to circle around him, slightly hunched to lean forward, arms behind her back, fingers intertwined to keep them there, peering at him attentively from all angles, as though she were sizing him up. Every once in a while she would stop and lean more towards her left, then to the right, to more closely scrutinize him.

When she had completed one revolution around him, she finally stopped, straightening her back, her expression unreadable. "So what are you running from?" she finally asked, assurance in her tone.

"What makes you think I'm running from something?" Cloud riposted, almost too defensively, he was quick to note.

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Something about you suggests that there is something you are trying to leave behind."

"Is it that obvious?"

The girl shook her head. "Not to most."

Cloud turned his back to her, taking a couple of steps away, hanging his head in shame. "I hurt someone," he confessed, "very badly." He had almost killed him, in fact.

"Because he was in your way." She did not phrase it as a question.

"How did you know that?" he asked incredulously, glancing at her once more over his shoulder, impressed that she was able to glean so much information from his circumstances without him once uttering any sort of explanation.

"I am not like most." She gave him a coy smile, though she kept her tone serious enough so as not to make light of his confession. "So did she live?"

Again, Cloud was amazed at this girl's ability to read his mind.

"Yeah, barely," he answered. The girl had fallen into a coma, all because he was not strong enough to save her, to stop her from falling. "But it was my fault." He angled his face away from her again, sadness creeping into his tone. "That's why I left."

"Hey, it's okay." He heard her step towards him, felt her hand suddenly on his shoulder, finding it comforting, soothing, as if a simple touch were enough to absorb the pain he felt inside. "This is Hollow Bastion, the place where dreams come true. Leave the past behind, embrace the future."

He faced her once again as she removed her hand from his shoulder. "You make it sound so easy."

She shook her head once more. "Life is only difficult if you let it be," she stated, almost profoundly.

Cloud cocked his head to the side. "Just who are you?"

It was more of a rhetorical question, but the girl seemed to treat it as a straightforward query. "My name's Aerith Gainsborough." She stuck out her hand in greeting, clearly intending for him to take it.

They were almost inseparable from that point on. The healer and the destroyer; the savior and the protector. The angel and the demon.

"Cloud, Cloud Strife."

But the demon without…

He took hold of the hand extended towards him.

"Come with me if you want to live," the owner of the proffered hand stated, both assurance and encouragement in his tone.

Cloud lay on the ground, propped against a wall, bleeding crimson, watching his life pour out of him. His left hand clutched firmly to the wound in his abdomen, applying as much pressure as he could in a futile effort to staunch the blood flow. Despite his helper's insistence, Cloud was quite certain there was nothing that could save him from death's cold touch.

He was mistaken.

There was one recourse, one saving grace, one chance at surviving long enough for Cloud to one day see Aerith again, and this man before him, Sephiroth, Hollow Bastion's most famous Soldier, the most renowned war hero of his day, could provide that balm. But there was a price. Heart, mind, body, and soul.

The demon without…

The black creatures came at him from all sides, pouring out at him in droves. The Heartless they were called, as he would one day discover in the not too distant future; evil creatures born from the darkness that resides in every heart.

All he needed to do was act as a decoy, to provide a long enough distraction for Cid to get his gummi ship off the ground, to ferry Aerith, among others, away from danger, away from the Heartless. Away from Cloud.

This was to be Cloud's last stand, his shining moment, his final act of love. It was funny how empty it felt, how scared Cloud found himself, knowing he was not long for this world; that Aerith's life would continue without him in it.

But he had no time for such thoughts. They swarmed at him, scratching and clawing, a pool of blackness ever expanding and infinite. His large buster sword cut them asunder, one after the other, yet still they came at him, still they persisted in their goal to overrun Hollow Bastion and all that stood in their path.

Cloud's cuts were effective, but they were too slow for the speedy Heartless, the limits of humanity what would ultimately do him in. A claw raked across his cheek, followed by a nail to his gut. Fresh blood poured from the open wound, and Cloud knew that it was a mortal blow.

He stumbled back, hands gripping at his injury as the Heartless continually pried and poked at him, biting and clawing as his sight became foggy, his head light. He fell against a wall, scraping his back as he slid along it. He glanced upward to the sky, could make out Cid's gummi ship launching towards space and the infinite beyond. He reached his hand out toward it, as if somehow he believed it could save him. He wondered if Aerith was watching him at that moment, if she could see him reaching towards her as the Heartless continued their assault on him, wondering if she was proud of him for what he had done.

And then all he saw was darkness as the Heartless consumed him. But they didn't swallow him whole, suddenly distracted by something that was rapidly approaching them. Cloud could make out the tall figure's form, the dark leather of the man's armor, the silvery sheen to his long flowing hair, the glint of steel on the long thin blade that could only be the Masamune. Sephiroth. Cloud's idol was to ultimately be his savior.

And his destroyer.

The Soldier struck with pinpoint precision, with such incredible strength, moving at inhuman speeds, cutting a swath through the Heartless that surrounded him. The arc of the man's swing came within millimeters of bisecting Cloud, clearing off the Heartless that remained behind to prey on Cloud's rapidly dying form, but there was no doubt in the injured man's mind that the near miss had been intentional and pre-planned. Sephiroth was just that good. He made Cloud's valiant attempt at holding off the Heartless seem amateur in comparison.

He reached his hand out, hovering over Cloud, a daunting figure. "Come with me if you want to live," he commanded, his cadence a deep vibrato. Even his voice was imposing.

Cloud gripped the man's cold gloved hand in his own. "Why?" was all he could utter, at a loss for why the great Sephiroth would want to help him.

"Your story does not have to end here," he stated simply, pulling them both into a black vortex that Sephiroth had magically created with a wave of his hand. Perhaps if he had been more conscious at the time, Cloud might have wondered how the man could create such a thing.

But at the time, all that mattered was living, all that mattered was Aerith. His story would continue, his quest to reunite with Aerith only just beginning.

But the demon without gives rise to the demon within.

It starts at the center, buried deep down inside, dispersing itself and spreading throughout the body, one cell at a time, ever expansive, ever enveloping. Ever darker; taunting him, possessing him, slowly destroying him even as it healed him, piecing him back together.

The foreign agent crept into his bloodstream like poison, coursing through his veins with resolute purpose, breaching his body's defenses, pain following closely in its wake, lingering behind as it leap-frogged from cell to cell, transforming the old, awakening the new, stabbing sharp daggers into his heart and sadistically twisting them around and around.

The coldness was all encompassing, skin prickling, hairs standing on edge, a seeping chill washing over him, exacerbating the pain. Frozen sweat causing sticky fingers, clammy hands. Nausea overtook him, bile in his throat, the desire to curl up into the fetal position and die inviting, yet ever elusive.

Fists contracted in syncopated rhythm with the spasms of muscles, muscles straining to keep his limbs in one piece. He could feel his wounds closing, could feel cuts healing over with renewed flesh. Once dead fingers came to life, bone protruding through flesh, calcium deposits building upon one another, strengthening, once fleshy digits now razor-sharp claws.

Then like a thunderclap it ripped through the flesh and sinew of his back, leather and scales, flaps opening and expanding, unbearable pain the lone wing's companion.

And then nothing. Pain receding, numbness pervasive, overtaking his body, sweeping through him like a phantom. The transformation was complete, the demon within released. And all he felt was numbness.

"Does it still hurt?" Aerith asked, concern evident in her inflection.

Cloud's only response was an indifferent grunt.

He was seated on the grease-stained stone floor of old man Cid's hangar, legs splayed out in front of him, his back propped against the alien coldness of Cid's latest project, a ship composed of a material known only as gummi blocks; a ship that Cid claimed would enable him to one day "navigate the stars".

Cid was an expert mechanic who owned a garage on the outskirts of Hollow Bastion, consigned to the duty of maintaining the king's fleet. Cloud thought Cid to be something of an old kook, a little rough around the edges at times, but deep down inside an insatiable dreamer with a heart of gold. Cid had a great fondness for Aerith, as most people were wont to do, and as a result, had also taken a shine to Cloud ever since the soldier-in-training had become her steadfast protector. More often than not, he would allow Aerith and Cloud to use his hangar as a meeting place where the two could hide away from the rest of the world for a while.

Presently, Aerith was hovering over Cloud, meticulously tending to the gaping wound in his left shoulder, an injury he had earned when a fellow trainee's sword had skewered him during a routine training exercise earlier that day. This particular instance had not been the first time Cloud had required Aerith's healer's hands to patch him up. At fourteen, as a trainee gunning to become part of the elite Soldier class of Hollow Bastion's army, Cloud had emerged from several training sessions with more than simply scrapes and bruises. But Cloud always believed that any injury he could walk away from, any pain he could tolerate or overcome, only served to make him that much more capable of becoming the strongest Soldier the world had ever seen.

"Of course it doesn't hurt," Aerith quickly corrected herself, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "What was I thinking? You're a big, strong warrior, like the great Sephiroth. Pain is only for the weak."

Cloud's most embarrassing admission was that in moments such as this one, with Aerith close to him, the sugar-coated lilt to her voice soothing, the flowery fragrance of her hair that he caught a whiff of every time she leaned in closer intoxicating, in spite of the cavernous wound in his left shoulder, the pain was inconsequential and unaffecting. Somehow, though, Cloud always found himself at a loss for words in her presence, so again, he answered with a monosyllabic, "Hmm."

"But you might be interested to know that you do have a weakness," she stated with resolute seriousness, gently mopping his wound with a disinfected cloth. "It took me a while to figure it out, but I think I've finally discovered it."

"Hmm?" he inquired, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"You talk too much, Cloud," she teased, unable to maintain a straight face any longer.

"Hmm," he acknowledged, the hint of a smile cresting his lips.

"See what I mean?" she beamed. "You're so expressive."

In truth, he knew that he didn't need to talk, that she understood him regardless of whether he opened his mouth or not. She had him pegged from the start.

Her smile faded, though her glow did not, concern once more creeping into her features. "This will probably leave a nasty scar," she stated as she continued her soothing ministrations of his injury.

"I'll survive," he casually brushed her concern aside, a little false bravado thrown in for good measure.

"You almost didn't," she chided him lightly in that motherly way she had about her. "A few more inches and it would have been your heart. You were fortunate."

"I was slow," Cloud responded matter-of-factly. He had been. Not fully accustomed to the large and cumbersome buster sword he had fallen in love with the moment his hand had clasped the lengthy hilt, a slow parry had almost cost him his life, only split second reflexes managing to displace the wound from his heart to his shoulder.

Aerith leaned in closer, focusing on his injury, her face but mere inches from his own, her soft lips a ripe target. The urge to kiss her was near impossible to resist, Cloud's own lips craving nothing more than to brush up against Aerith's, to communicate his desire in a way that words never could. But Cloud managed to exert every bit of self-control in his arsenal in order to stop himself, to control his longings for the amazing woman that sat before him.

In the end it was fear that stayed him; fear that held him from affecting their dynamic, from changing everything that they were to one another. It seemed fear had always been Cloud's most powerful motivator; fear of failure, fear of rejection. Fear of losing the one person that was his sole reason for existing.

A bubble of silence seemed to surround them in that moment, the comforting quiet seeping in, Aerith's gentle exhalations a marked contrast to Cloud's ragged breathing. He could make out the beating of her heart, a lyrical metronome pumping in syncopated cadence with his own. The two of them were in a world all their own, distant, dwelling on differing thoughts far a-field, yet somehow, congruously, together, closer than any two people could get to one another without being one and the same. Cloud could feel his eyelids sealing gently as Aerith dabbed at his cut, allowing himself to get lost in his own reverie, to soak up the warmth of Aerith's presence; her presence that suppressed the darkness that threatened to surround him.

Aerith was the first to break the silence, her intonation despondent. "Cloud?" she asked. "Do you ever wonder what will become of us when we're older?"

Cloud's eyes slowly opened, taking in the light once more. He took very little time to construct his response, his answer almost one of reflex, as if to think anything else would be ridiculous. "Sure. You'll be a famous healer and I'll be a world-renowned soldier."

Aerith shook her head slightly, stopping her cleansing of his wound. "I know, I know," she replied off-handedly. "But what I mean is; what type of people will we become? What will the paths we take in life mold us into?"

This time Cloud paused for a beat before responding honestly, "Never really thought about it."

"I think about it all the time." There was no disguising the melancholy tone of her voice.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

Aerith once more continued to tend to his wound, as if to distract herself from her answer. "I don't know. I guess I just worry."

"About what?"

"About you," she confessed, her head turning away slightly, eyes focused on the ground rather than his own. She absently pushed a wayward tendril of chestnut-colored hair behind her right ear. "About us. Will we still be in each other's lives ten years from now?"

Secretly, that was Cloud's greatest fear, that one day Aerith would see through him and realize that she deserved so much better than what a screw-up like him could offer her. He often questioned why it was that someone as insightful as she had not already realized it. But he shirked his insecurity, if only for her sake, and asked, in such a manner as to suggest that she was crazy to think otherwise, "Why wouldn't we?"

"I don't know." She shook her head again. "People change as they get older. Experience shapes us in unpredictable ways."

"What does your heart tell you?" Cloud was not prone to making decisions based on feelings, not generally one to follow his heart, but he knew that Aerith was. Aerith was a dreamer, a romantic, passionate and spiritual, with the ability to perceive the beauty in even the ugliest of things in life. That was where she and Cloud differed. But nonetheless, Cloud would often make the attempt to indulge her in matters of the heart, to allow her to openly speak her heart's thoughts. Her heart had never seemed to have led her astray yet.

"I don't know," was the only response she could give, and Cloud noted that perhaps that had been the first time her heart hadn't provided her with a solid answer.

Cloud wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he too let his line of sight drift to the stone floor, focusing on a particularly large grease spot a few inches off to the side of him.

She dabbed once more at his wound, slightly less focused, and managed to strike a sore spot. He flinched in response, gritting his teeth.

"Ah, so it does hurt. So Cloud Strife is human." She managed to give him a weak smile, perhaps in an attempt to alleviate their discomfiture. "Not quite like Sephiroth after all," she stated playfully.

"No one is like Sephiroth." He paused, crooking his head to the side a bit, before stating in a sardonically cock-sure way, "Well, not yet, at any rate."

"No, not yet." She graced him with one of her rarer smiles, one she reserved solely for him. "But if you keep insisting on using a sword twice your size, you may never," she rebuked him, half-serious.

"One day I will." Cloud gazed into the distance, as if he were looking into his own future, a slight tug at the corner of his lips. "One day I'll be just like Sephiroth," he proclaimed.

Her response was quiet, barely audible, gentle yet mournful. "Why can't you just be Cloud?"

Heart, mind, body, and soul…

"Cloud doesn't have what it takes," Sephiroth reproached, mercilessly thrusting the large Masamune sword into the gut of the man that lay dying at his feet. "Is that what you want me to tell our employer?" he finished.

Cloud looked away from Sephiroth, down at the man kneeling before him, listening to the man's wracking sobs and sickening pleas to spare his life. Yet as much as Cloud wanted simply to do the job he was paid to do, wanted simply to play the role of mercenary that he and Sephiroth had cast themselves into, a part of him felt like giving in to this man's plea for mercy. A part of him felt sickened by the actions the two men had taken here today.

Gazing at the blood that lined his blade, Cloud pondered loudly, "Have you ever stopped to wonder if what we are doing is right?"

"There is no right or wrong," Sephiroth insisted as he pulled his sword free of the corpse in front of him. "Just the job."

"But what if the job we're doing is wrong?" Cloud shrugged. Or was this what was required of him to find his way back to Aerith?

Sephiroth shook his head at Cloud, his tone matter-of-factly. "That isn't for us to decide."

"And the innocent we kill?" Cloud queried, wondering what this man pleading before him had done to have earned such a fate.

"No one is innocent," Sephiroth stated adamantly, "We all hide a darkness in our hearts."

"Some of us don't hide it," he said, making it all too apparent that he was referencing Sephiroth. At that moment, Cloud found it hard to believe that he had idolized this man that stood before him, this dark knight he had partnered himself with since the fall of Hollow Bastion.

Sephiroth pointed a long finger at him. "While others stubbornly pretend it does not exist." He shook his head, his tone neutral. "But we are all a mix of light and dark, black and white."

"And where do you and I fall on the spectrum?" Cloud questioned, curious as to how exactly Sephiroth perceived their role in the grand scheme of things.

But all Cloud received were more questions and a non-definitive answer from Sephiroth. "Where we fall depends on who we associate with."

"So what does that make us?"

"Mercenaries." Sephiroth stabbed his large blade into the already dead man's gut once more, just for good measure. "Now finish the job."

The demon without…

Cloud kicked the man in front of him over, raising his sword high in the air for the killing blow. "It's finished."

From the ground, eight long years later, Sephiroth made one final plea. "It is never finished. Don't you understand?"

Cloud nodded, still holding the large blade above his head. "I understand. I understand that you are my darkness, just as Aerith is my light; that I am the shade of grey." He was the man trapped in the middle.

"But if you kill me, you become the darkness." It was a cry for mercy, that much was apparent to Cloud, yet the man's cold voice hid that fact well.

Cloud hesitated for a second, pondering Sephiroth's last words, then finally shrugged in acceptance. "So be it."

With that, he plunged the blade down into the man's heart, snuffing out the life of the dark Soldier once and for all.

He brought his eyes to bear on Sora, peering into the bewildered eyes of the young boy he had just saved from Sephiroth.

But in reality it had been Sora that had saved him, shortly after the first time they had fought. Sora, who was so much like he once was, whose naïve quest to become a hero was so similar to the dream Cloud had once had for himself; Sora had helped him back on the path to redemption.

"Hey, are you all right?" the brown-haired boy asked, genuinely concerned.

Slumped on the stone steps by the entrance of the Coliseum, Cloud supposed he looked like a man who had the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders. In reality it had been a tad bit lighter than that. "Yeah," he responded.

Once upon a time, he might not have been able to claim as much, having survived being crushed by Cerberus' large paw, the price he paid for sparing Sora's life, only because of the demon blood that now flowed through his veins, the gift of a second chance granted him by Sephiroth so many years ago; nine years that now seemed like an eternity.

"So why did you go along with him, anyway?" Sora inquired.

Why did he go along with Hades, God of the Underworld? Why did he agree to kill a man he had never met before, whose innocence or lack thereof had been an irrelevant topic? The answer was simple.

"I'm looking for someone. Hades promised to help." He was searching for a way back to Aerith, searching for his light. But somewhere along the way he had lost sight of it, at some point he had lost sight of himself. "I tried to exploit the power of darkness, but it backfired. I fell into darkness, and I couldn't find the light," he confessed, becoming all too aware of just how far he had fallen in his quest.

"You'll find it," the exuberant boy stated with assurance in his inflection. "I'm searching, too." He spoke in such a manner as to suggest that only if Cloud could find his light, so too could he himself, as if their destinies had become intertwined. Cloud could not have known at the time just how true that thought really was.

"For your light?" Cloud finally asked. The boy nodded, and that was when the disparity struck Cloud.

With the notable exception of the brown colored hair, it was almost as if he were staring directly through the looking glass of time, directly into the mirror of his youth. They were so similar, he and Sora, cast into a role that perhaps they were not ready to play, yet had no choice but to perform. So alike, and yet so different. For the kid still retained the one thing that Cloud had lost by the time he had reached Sora's age: innocence.

Cloud could never reclaim his innocence, could never find redemption for all of the atrocious acts he had performed. But the boy still could; Sora still had a chance to save himself, if only he kept his light within his sights. "Don't lose sight of it," he entreated.

Then he took his leave, his path clear once again, seeing life once more through the eyes of an innocent.

"How about a rematch sometime?" the jovial boy asked, desperately wanting to prove himself the hero he wished he could be. "Fair and square, no dark powers involved."

The boy had nothing to prove. Cloud ran a hand through his spiky hair, then continued his march. "I think I'll pass."

The demon within…

"You're throwing away a fortune," Hades responded, obviously surprised that Cloud would outright reject the very generous offer he had just made.

"Money only gets you so far," Cloud riposted. He would know. He had spent close to nine years working as a mercenary, the first few with Sephiroth before the two had a falling out, using the money he earned from assassinations and sword-for-hire jobs to book passage from world to world, hoping that each one would be where he would finally find Aerith. For nine long years, that method had proven fruitless. A new strategy was in order.

"Come on. Is a life really worth so much?"

Cloud shook his head. "This isn't about life," he stated matter-of-factly. "This is about mutual gain. You want my skills; you need to up the ante."

Hades seemed taken aback, flinching at the evenness of Cloud's tone. "Geez, you're a cold one. I see your reputation is well earned." He took a step closer, reaching his arm around Cloud's shoulders, as though the two of them were life-long friends. "So what are we looking at here?" he asked, pointing a finger in Cloud's direction.

Cloud shrugged the God of the Underworld's arm off his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "I was told you could help me find someone."

Hades didn't appear bothered by Cloud's gesture, but took a step back anyway, a wicked smile gracing his features. "I see my reputation is also well earned." He looked both ways, as if to check if anyone were in earshot, then leaned in a bit closer, his voice just above a whisper. "Say I help you find this person, then you'll kill him for me?"

Cloud unsheathed the sword from his back, plunging the blade into the ground. "Consider him dead," he promised emotionlessly.

Heart, mind, body, and soul…

He gripped the hilt of the blade, pulling it free from the soil as he watched the lone black feather float to the ground, a looming shadow appearing behind him. He turned, lightly pushing Sora to the side as he stepped forward towards his nemesis, the one and only Sephiroth. "So we meet at last," Cloud stated evenly.

"I was searching for you too," Sephiroth responded in kind, the lone black angel wing on his back stretching out towards the heavens.

Cloud flexed the lonely demon wing on his back, preparing for the moment of truth, the final showdown between the two arch-enemies, the showdown of fate from which only one would emerge with their life. "As long as you exist, I can't wake from this nightmare. You are my darkness."

Sephiroth gestured widely. "If that's so, I shall draw you into the darkness," he promised, "Into the nightmare that forever deprives you of light, from which you can never awaken." He began to reach for his sword.

Cloud readied his own sword for battle, feeling the pent up energy within him begin to circulate, red electricity flickering around him, Sephiroth doing likewise, his charge blue, pebbles caught up in the static field between them rising a few inches off the ground.

Then the two charged simultaneously, large swords clashing, throwing off sparks. Again and again they traded blows at inhuman speeds, neither one yielding, neither one getting the upper hand on the other.

Finally they separated, circling each other, both warriors searching for the other's weakness. Cloud charged, pushing Sephiroth back. But as he attempted to strike again, Sephiroth vanished in a swirl of black clouds and feathers, appearing once more behind Cloud. But he did not attack, instead beckoning Cloud to come to him, mocking Cloud's inability to pull the same trick.

Again, Cloud charged, a pointed strike that Sephiroth easily bullied to the side. Recovering quickly, Cloud brought his sword back in line to catch Sephiroth's retaliatory swing. He parried another blow on his right side, then pressed his own offensive, hammering away to the left, then right, then finished off with a down strike that Sephiroth caught easily on his large thin blade. Normally Cloud would have attempted a kick to the gut in this situation, but given the size of their swords, distance was also his enemy.

The two broke apart again, sizing one another up, neither man on the verge of tiring yet. After a few paces, Sephiroth charged. Cloud swatted the sword to the side, shoving it with his right hand gripping the hilt of his own sword, his left arm coming free as he spun inward towards Sephiroth, catching the ex-Soldier below the chin with his elbow, a powerful shot that would have rendered an ordinary man unconscious. But Sephiroth was no ordinary man, and in so being, recovered quickly and gracefully, shoving Cloud back in the direction he had come. Cloud just barely managed to get his bearings back, raising his sword to block Sephiroth's counter-strike as he came out of his spin.

They rushed each other, blades clashing together, both pushing inward at one another, trying to gain leverage, faces mere inches from one another. Cloud gnashed his teeth in the face of his nemesis. Sephiroth responded by positioning his foot behind Cloud's leg, bowling him over backward. Adapting quickly, Cloud rolled backward, pushing himself up into a hand spring, pushing off the ground to land back on his feet. He instantly dropped to one knee, catching Sephiroth's down strike, angling his sword so that his enemy's sword glided off the blade toward the ground, then came up swinging. Sephiroth jumped back to avoid the blade, but only partially succeeded, acquiring a diagonal slash across his chest from the right to left.

Using the wounding blow to his advantage, Cloud leapt high into the air, higher than a normal human could, telegraphing a downward strike that he knew Sephiroth would easily parry. But at the last possible second, Cloud pushed against the air with the lone demon wing on his left side, corkscrewing in the air, changing his angle of approach towards Sephiroth, coming in from the right instead of head on. But Sephiroth was fast, stopping Cloud's blade from bisecting him by mere inches.

Cloud instantly countered his momentum, spinning around to his left to try to catch his enemy's open right side. But again Sephiroth was too fast, managing to catch Cloud's attack, pushing him back. Just as Cloud recovered enough for another swing, Sephiroth vanished in a swirl of black. Cloud reacted with split-second timing, throwing his sword over his shoulder, covering his back just in the nick of time, as Sephiroth appeared behind him already in motion to cut him in twain.

Cloud rolled forward to get clear, then turned to face the dark mercenary once more. He charged, blades clashing again, feet planted firmly as both men pushed their swords together, trying to upset the other's balance. Hoping to catch his enemy off guard, Cloud released his left hand, quickly punching Sephiroth directly in the trachea.

But Sephiroth again seemed unaffected, taking advantage of the fact that Cloud was pushing with only one hand, shoving Cloud back, then knocking his sword back with an upward swing. He finished off with a slash to Cloud's chest, left to right.

Cloud backed off, gripping his chest, his adversary clutching his throat. Eventually, Sephiroth charged again. Cloud parried his strike, then swatted the man's sword to the right, taking advantage of the situation, moving in with lightning speed, ramming his metal studded shoulder guard under Sephiroth's chin, catching him off guard, knocking him back. Finally the advantage was his. But just as he went to finish his enemy off once and for all, Sephiroth managed to cheat death once more by vanishing in a puff of black smoke.

But he could only cheat death for a few seconds more. Predicting that the soldier would appear behind him once again, Cloud gambled, thrusting his sword backward along his left side, rewarded with the sickening sound of bones cracking, sinew tearing as the sword rang true.

Cloud unsheathed his sword from Sephiroth's body, then turned to see a surprised Sephiroth glancing down at the wound in his chest, his sword still held aloft above his head, ready for the killing strike he never had time to make. As if in slow motion, the man dropped to his knees, sword falling beside him, bleeding crimson, Mako eyes locked onto the cold eyes of his killer.

"It's finished," Cloud coldly proclaimed.

The demon within…

"Now, don't blow it. Just take him out," commanded the keeper of the dead.

Cloud had been leaning against the wall, awaiting his next match in the tournament, watching Sora and his two partners fighting as a team. They fought well as a cohesive unit, but they had weaknesses that could easily be exploited. It surprised Cloud that Hades should be so concerned by them. "The great god of the Underworld is afraid of a kid?" He shook his head lightly. "Sorry but my contract says –"

"I know! You think I don't know? I wrote the contract!" Hades gestured wildly, "I know it says you're only required to kill Hercules in this tournament. But you've gotta fight that kid to get to him." He pointed his long blue finger at Sora a little ways in the distance. "Come on. It's like that old goat says: Rule 11: It's all just a game, so let loose and have fun with it," he reasoned, punching at the air as if in a mock fight, "I mean, a casualty or two along the way is no big deal, right?"

Cloud ignored the question, strutting away to take his turn in the tournament. Would he kill the boy as Hades had instructed? He'd decide that when the time came.

As the distance between him and Hades increased, he managed to overhear the man utter one last sentence, and half-smirked beneath the cowl of his crimson cloak. "Geez. Stiffer than the stiffs back home."

Back home. Sociopath, they had called him back home. Weak fool!

Darkness descended, like an ominous cloud it cast its shadow upon him as he ran into the blackened tunnel. He had been running for days, his determination and resolve the only thing fueling him, driving him towards his future, towards Hollow Bastion, escaping his regretful past, the curses and insults of the townspeople nipping at his heels every step of the way.

It's all your fault!

It wasn't really his fault, or at least he hadn't been the instigator. He had tried to stop it, had tried to help the unfortunate girl. He had been just as much of a victim as she had. And yet they blamed him anyway.

Irresponsible!

They turned on him in an instant, strangers and friends alike, pinning the blame on him, shouldering him with the responsibility of what happened to the girl.

Who was he kidding? He had no friends. At thirteen years old he was the same as he had been when he was born: alone. A loner. A misfit. A weak fool who fought with the other kids to prove his strength, in the end only deluding himself as to how untrue that perception of himself really was.

How could you do such a thing?

He really hadn't intended to take it that far. He hadn't meant to hurt him that badly, hadn't anticipated almost ending his life. But the boy had been in the way, had been stopping him from helping her. In the end, he doomed them all.

You brought this on yourself.

The tunnel extended on for what seemed like infinity, the darkness enveloping him, driving him on, away from the past. But the further he ran, the more his stray thoughts ran rampant, the more he realized that he could never outrun the darkness he was shrouded in, could never outrun his worst enemy.

Heartless Demon!

But there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Her name was Aerith.

The demon within; the failure without.

Grabbing her wrist, he led her through the crowded streets, through the maze of bodies as people ran in all directions, fleeing from the attacking Heartless.

They made their way towards Cid's hangar, towards the aircraft that was their only hope for escape, for Aerith's escape really. Cloud knew that he would not be catching this flight. His destiny lay elsewhere.

"Hurry up and get your asses aboard," Cid chided, half-mockingly. "We've been waiting all day for your sorry butts." Only a man like Cid could joke around in even the darkest of times.

Releasing her wrist, Cloud paused to let Aerith ascend the ship's ramp, and then just stood there, not making a motion to enter Cid's craft.

Realizing that he wasn't following her into the gummi ship, Aerith stopped and slowly faced him, as if delaying what she knew to be the inevitable truth. "You're not coming with us, are you?" she finally asked, her calm voice belying the turmoil she must have been feeling on the inside.

Cloud shook his head, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, taking in both his buster sword strapped to his back and the approaching Heartless in the distance simultaneously. He tried to keep his voice even, to not betray how scared he was at that moment. "Someone has to buy you time."

In her heart, he knew she wanted to ask why it had to be him, why he had to be the one to sacrifice himself. But in that same organ, she also knew precisely why it had to be him. It had to be someone, and he was the most qualified for the task.

She took a step closer to him, looking him up and down, as if sizing him up, as if admiring what she laid eyes upon. Then she smiled, a sight Cloud found heart-wrenching as it finally dawned on him that this was to be the last time he would ever see her smile. He engraved the image in his mind, knowing the indelible image would be his greatest motivation, the thing that drove him on when all hope was lost.

Then a lone tear rolled down her smooth cheek. Cloud reached his callused hand out to her, catching the tear on his thumb, tenderly stroking her cheek as he wiped the moisture away. She glanced up at him in awe, her luminescent green eyes sparkling, unaccustomed to such outward displays of affection from him. He saw her lip quaver, teardrops pooling around the irises of her eyes. They sealed shut as she hung her head, hot tears cascading down her cheeks, dangling on the cleft of her chin before finally plummeting to the ground.

Cloud leaned in, his own eyes closing in mimicry of Aerith's, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, his hands intimately holding the sides of her face, fingers partially buried beneath the hair behind her ears. He brushed away a few more of her tears, then moved in, fear no longer a burden, his lips melding with hers in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing to a rhythm known only to them. It was a dream, the climax before the denouement, the end all and be all to Cloud's purpose.

And yet he finally relented, drawing his lips away, foreheads still touching, their breath ragged, faces hovering close to one another. He could feel her heart, could feel his own hammering against his ribcage, wishing this moment didn't have to end. He opened his eyes, noted that Aerith had not. "I wish we had more time," she spoke, her voice low, almost pleading, choking back a sob.

"We have all the time in the world," he promised with a whisper, hot breath against her cheek, a rare smile creasing his lips. He was rewarded with open eyes and a loving smile. He kissed her quickly once more, then reluctantly disentangled himself, stepping away, his hands gliding down the length of her arms, getting held up on the crook of her fingers, before one final tug broke the chain. And then she was gone.

He stood stalwartly watching as she ascended the ramp, watched as she took a seat next to a brown-haired man who appeared to have a nasty gash across the bridge of his nose. Their eyes remained locked the entire time, up until the moment Cid shut the ship's hatch, her eyes repeating the same message over and over; two simple words: "I know."

His eyes: "I will find you. I promise. Whatever the cost."

The cost: heart, mind, body, and soul.

The demon without…

But now he stood before her once more, his head hung in shame. It was not something he expected, had not been how he dreamed the two would reunite. What should have been his happiest moment became his most shameful moment of reckoning.

Because the truth presented itself then. Face to face with Aerith once more, Cloud found himself confronted by his own demons, forced to acknowledge the sins he had committed. He had taken on the powers of darkness, had done things he deeply regretted, all in order to find Aerith again.

For years he had thought that Sephiroth was his adversary, had believed the Heartless were his enemies. But he had been mistaken. His own worst enemy was and always had been none other than himself. He knew the truth now.

He knew that he was weak, a failure. He had descended into the darkness of hell and emerged from it, only to ultimately fail. For it had not been he that found his way back to Aerith, but due in part to Sora sealing the door to Kingdom Hearts, thereby restoring the universe to the way it had been before the Heartless threatened to take it over. Only because of Sora had he managed to make his way back to Hollow Bastion, back to Aerith.

How would she respond, he wondered, learning of the horrible deeds he had performed? How would she react to the demon that had become a part of him?

She was leaning forward before him, hands clasped behind her back, peering through him, into his heart and soul, knowing at that moment all that he had done without him ever having to utter one word.

He finally looked up at her, expecting the worst. Instead she took her time, grabbing his clawed hand in hers, turning it over and studying it. Her hand then moved up the length of his arm, stopping at his cheek, brushing her thumb along it, her ministrations soothing, Cloud's eyes closing in both comfort and shame.

She removed her hand, and Cloud opened his eyes once more, cleansed. He gazed into the depths of her emerald eyes, could feel the warmth radiating off her. Her lips curved into a smile, a smile that she reserved solely for him. And then her lips were brushing against his, taking Cloud by surprise. His initial impulse was, strangely, to resist, to pry her away and tell her of all the horrible deeds he had committed, to plead that he didn't deserve her love.

But he didn't resist, instead giving in to her affection and healing touch. For that was when he understood, that was when he knew what it was that Aerith had seen in him, why she could forgive his transgressions so readily. One thing still burned brightly inside of him.

The demon without gives rise to the demon within.

Heart, mind, body, and soul. The parts that constitute the entire being of a person.

Cloud had given up everything he owned, every last thing of value he possessed, things that he knew he could never regain fully, all in order to find his way back to the light. Everything he owned had blackened, everything became steeped in darkness. Everything, that is, except his heart. It was the one thing that forever remained illuminated.

The reason for that was because his heart was never his to give away. It was Aerith's.