A/N:

Just something cute and thoughtful…and maybe a little sad.

Word Count: 1980

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Of Clouds and Chocobos

By Catsitta

Ever since he was a child, Sephiroth loved books. Within the pages was boundless information and pictures that could tell stories of their own. When he was very young, Professor Gast had been his caretaker, enriching the young boy's otherwise isolated life with his companionship. Amongst the cold, sterile confines of a laboratory, it was hard for a boy to blossom, especially one with a natural curiosity about the world beyond the walls. So Gast did his best to sate that curiosity with books and magazines of every variation, from fairy tales to textbooks, to novels and more.

Books did not dampen Sephiroth's burning desire to learn, rather, they enhanced it tenfold. He drank in every word, observed every image and by the time he was six, the boy had far surpassed the expectations of his caretaker. A genius, the scientist had proclaimed with pride, but any joy Sephiroth garnered from that title was snatched away by a dark presence. A man named Hojo, whom was responsible for the boy's physical health, had laughed in his face and claimed that the boy was no genius—that he was but a foolish child whom memorized a few facts from a book.

Disheartened, the boy fell into a state of depression. He wondered why Professor Hojo had to be so cruel. Why did he have to mock Sephiroth? Why did he have to hurt him with needles and force him to fight creatures much larger than himself? Why did he demean him at every turn, whenever Sephiroth found a glimmer of happiness in his prison of steel and glass?

It was not until Gast came in with a new book did his spirits lift. How could he stay sad when his favorite person offered to read him a story? His sadness fled as he listened to a bittersweet tale of love, freedom and tragedy.

It was about an angel, with blue eyes and wild blond hair, whom was all alone on the Planet. He had once lived high above amongst the clouds in the sky, but one day, during a storm, he had fallen from his home and his wings were broken. Unable to return to the heavens, the angel climbed to the top of the highest mountain in the land and made a new home, each day praying that he could fly again one day.

Many seasons pass, but the angel's wings do not heal. He was about to fall into despair when a stranger stumbles upon his home. It was a girl. He offers her his home as shelter from the bitter cold of the mountains and in return, she tells him of her many adventures and how she overcame the prejudice of her village against women by climbing mountains, slaying monsters and doing everything that they said only men could do. She also confessed that her life of traveling granted her freedom that no one else from her village ever knew.

The angel admired her bravery and envied her free spirit. He felt trapped because of his broken wings. He told this to the girl and she asked him to explore the world with her. He accepted.

From that day on, the angel did not feel burdened by his broken wings. He felt liberated, freer than ever before…but that freedom within his heart was lost when the girl fell deathly ill. He stayed by her side until she died, and with a broken heart, the angel wept. He wept and wept until he realized that he was flying. For the first time in years, he was flying.

Higher and higher the angel soared, until he reached the clouds. From them he crafted a shroud, before he returned to the girl's side. He then blanketed her in his final gift—it was a memorial only an angel could offer. However, instead of dissipating in the way that souls do in death, in a rain of green, there was a gust of wind and a flash of light. Then the cloud disappeared, leaving behind a small white bird that was as puffy as cotton.

A chocobo, the angel realized. And he then understood. Chocobos were independent creatures that thrived in the vast landscape of the Planet. Some could climb to the peaks of mountains, others could cross the sea, and then there were some that could reach every far corner of the world.

So when the day came that the girl-turned-chocobo was ready to leave, the angel let the one he had once loved have her freedom. And he returned to the heavens above, thankful for the gift that the Goddess allotted him.

Sephiroth read the story again and again after Gast left. In the years to come, it would be what held him away from the brink of despair after the cheerful Professor was proclaimed dead. Never before had his heart ached so much.

When he asked Hojo about the pain in his chest, the scientist told him that it was emotion and that it would best to leave such trifles behind. And eventually, the boy became a man, and that man knew it was best to heed the warnings of his new caretaker. Emotions were a weakness that could be exploited and any crack in his mental wall was another place in which Hojo could poke and prod at with malevolent pleasure.

But before he became a man that was cold to the world, Sephiroth saw the outdoors for the first time. He was ten and it was his first trial mission. It was hard not touch, taste and smell everything that he saw. After all, he was not in the polluted confines of Midgar or the sterile surroundings of the lab, no, he was amongst nature. Everywhere around were trees and flowers and grass, below his feet was rich earth and above him was the sky.

Oh, they sky! Sephiroth found that he loved the sky. He stretched out his arms in an attempt to embrace it, wishing that he had wings that could carry him away into the endless expanse of the heavens. That way he could be like the angel from the story, and explore than lands and fly higher than the clouds.

Unfortunately, on this outing, he made the mistake of pointing out to Hojo that one of the clouds looked like a chocobo. The scientist laughed at him and yanked at Sephiroth's shoulder-length, silver hair. It was the favorite thing for Hojo to do when he was mocking the boy for some flight of fancy or another.

It would be months before Sephiroth saw the sky again.

But when he became a SOLDIER at thirteen, he saw the sky almost every day. Never did he again admit to his cloud watching, in fear that his peers would think less of him and mock him. Soon, however, cloud watching became the only pleasure in life. At fourteen, he was shipped to Wutai to fight in the war. By fifteen, he had climbed the ranks faster than any other man before him…but he had also bathed in more blood than many of his superiors.

He was a demon, his fellow SOLDIERs whispered and his enemies spat with disdain. He was not human.

By the time he was given the rank of General, Sephiroth agreed. He couldn't possibly be human. But he couldn't be a demon, he decided one day after the war had ended and he was staring out of his office window. He was special. He was…he was an angel. A fallen angel. One who dreams of returning to his true home in the heavens but was trapped in the realm of mortals.

After all, demons did not have friends. He had two. It wasn't much, but for years it proved to be enough. Genesis and Angeal were faithful and strong, and Sephiroth never dreamed that they would stray from him. But when Genesis defected from ShinRa and took Angeal with him, the young General felt his heart break for the first time since he lost Gast. Everyone he loved seemed to be destined to be taken away.

Angeal's student, Zack, offered his wounded heart some relief in the form of brilliant smiles and boundless energy. They both mourned for the same men, but the boy smiled through the pain and kept Sephiroth from falling into the depths of no return.

Often, after his friend's reported deaths, Sephiroth would disappear for hours on end. Only he knew where he went or why he was going. Upon his mount, a black stud chocobo everyone believed to be named Nightmare (he was actually named Cloudy, but that isn't a very impressive name for a feared General's steed now is it?), he rode off until he reached the cliffs that overhung the proud, festering city of Midgar. There he would sit, watching the sky, wishing he could fly away and never return.

Little did he know that his obsession with cloud watching would define him in his future.

After all, who could have predicted that when he fell into madness in Nibelhiem that a boy named Cloud (of all things) would defeat him in battle and send him plunging into the Lifestream? Who could have known that this same boy would become the plaything of Hojo and become a failed Sephiroth clone? Who could have predicted that the boy would become a puppet to Sephiroth's will as well as a hero, striking down the heaven seeking warrior time and time again?

Clouds were always Sephiroth's obsession. They were the very essence of freedom and hope. To be among the clouds was the rise above all despair, weightless and unbound. This boy, this little hero, was seeking what his name entailed. Sephiroth knew it from the first time he spied the boy after his return from death. He was weighted down by his confusion and doubt; he was like a raincloud heavy with guilt he refused to part ways with.

It was fascinating to watch Cloud. It filled in the cracks in his heart in ways that Jenova could not. With Cloud, even if it was in the heat of battle, Sephiroth felt complete. He felt like a god…a dangerous thing for a fallen angel to feel. It made him careless and estimate the boy.

But Cloud was not a boy…no, not after their first encounter. He was a man. No…he was a clone of Sephiroth. That made him part angel. A half-breed, perhaps.

During their final encounter, Sephiroth could not help but be entranced by the strength of the chocobo-haired blond. The boy, despite his heavy heart, seemed to fly through the air, just like he, but no wings held him aloft. Sephiroth's own, newly gained angel wing held the promise of the heavens upon them. But the wingless half-breed cut him down, scattering ebony feathers through the air.

As Sephiroth fell to his knees, shadows consuming him, he looked to the sky above. During the battle between them, he had commanded the clouds. They were a vortex of gray and black, heavy with rain's promise. So different from the puffy white ones from the story or the ones he watched before his fall into madness. It was in the final moment that everything came into clarity.

His eyes focused on Cloud.

This boy. This half-breed…he had a chance to ascend into the heavens above. He had within him the purity…the light that had once been Sephiroth's guiding beacon in all the sorrow. One day, he would have the chance to embrace the clouds in the way that Sephiroth desired but never could attain. It was then that he realized something.

Cloud was his light.

Cloud would preserve him.

But only through death could the darkness that weighted the fallen angel down, be lifted.

Only through Cloud…would Sephiroth be able to touch the sky.

-fin-

A/N: ( Thank you for reading! Please review and check out my latest poll. )