OK, so, if you're reading this, you probably have debated with me on the FFVII board, and know that I aboslutely loathe Advent Children. If you don't know...well, now you know!
Anyway, I fancy myself as a writer. I write just about every day, and have since I was a little kid. After I played through VII for the first time, I really wanted to put a bow on the vague ending in my own way: With words.
Needless to say, like any good writer, I procrastinated. I waited and waited for my muse, and every time I thought it came, I found myself writing flat retreads of the original storyline. I searched sites like fanfiction.com for the recipe. Not to steal ideas, mind you--merely to see someone else do it well enough to inspire me.
Sadly, as we all know, 95% of all fanfiction is either written embarrassingly poor, or features the two male characters secretly falling in love with each other. Or, in the worst cases, both are true. And even the better ones usually are written because some fanboy (or girl, which struck me as odd) wants to see the romance that "should" have been in the game, and are completely hollow in terms of plot.
But then I came across this website, and little story by Lady Aerith. If you haven't read it, (and excuse what I am about to do) GO READ IT. She took the story of Final Fantasy and crafted her own world around it, rich with her own characters, and a rich plot that does not suffer from the ailments I listed in the previous paragraph. It truly is a story worth reading, as she captures the MYTHOS of the world, not just the setting. I firmly believe that is the key.
And thanks to her, I found my muse, for real this time. Again, I didn't rip her off (as you'll see if you decide to read this), but I was so inspired by her story that the words almost came out all by themselves.
Enough about me. You're sick of me. I can tell.
This story begins in Cosmo Canyon, where Cloud Strife has made his home for the last eight months. Nearly a year has passed since Meteor, and whle the rest of the world is still recovering, the once-prosperous mining town of Corel is preparing to celebrate a new holiday: The Beasting.
I should warn you: This story takes place in something of an alternate universe, where none of the Square-for-profit games (or movies) have happened. That means ignore Crisis Core, Before Crisis, After Crisis, During The Crisis, Eating Froot Loops Despite Crisis, and also ignore the flick-for-profit Advent Children, or any of the countless sequals Square is bound to spin-off, such as Advent Teenagers, and Advent Old Fogeys.
Now, if you haven't already clicked on the "back" button, here is my story, entitled "The Beasting".
***1***
Cloud Strife found mountain air invigorating. There was less of it up here, but it was pure and fresh; Cloud could imagine the stale air swirling up to the heavens to be replaced by whirlwinds of clean air every so often. The clouds were few and far between, but they were magnificent plumes of talcum-white. Everything about the world was wonderful when viewed from the cliffs above Cosmo Canyon.
Though the clatterbells wouldn’t ring for another hour or so, Cloud felt a rumble in his belly, so he headed back to the Canyon. He took the well-beaten path around the low-rolling hills, which avoided the steepest of the cliffs. He ran his fingers across the fossilized bark of the deadwoods as the path sloped gently downward.
There were few native to Cosmo Canyon among the two- or three-dozen folks who called the place home, but Cloud found that they all treated the place as if they had been raised here themselves, or maybe wouldn’t mind raising their own young here. From cooking to cleaning to helping make the next batch of pilgrims feel comfortable and welcome, everyone at the Canyon did their part.
A few of the women stayed busy around the cauldron at the fire pit as Cloud emerged from the path. They waived as he passed, the fat one named Gertie sang a hello. Her voice was like a wind chime, and he always found her pleasant.
Beyond the low-slung pit was the town proper. A collection of slate huts carved from the side of the cliffs served as small sundry and food shops, while another peddled various types of alcohol. Several more offered the local musicians a place to show off their talents when the pilgrims came through, while some even offered lessons in their particular vocation.
Along the western edge of town were the bamboo huts the pilgrims stayed in. The huts could sleep twenty, though that was hardly enough, so a miniature tent village had been erected just a little further down the cliff’s face.
Cloud made his way to the huts, one of which he had called home for the last eight months.
He pulled off his tunic and tossed it on his bed. There was no answering machine for him to check messages on. There was no phone, either. He lit the gas burner he had placed on a well-crafted slate table, mixed up a kettle of tea. He turned to the window. There was no television to watch, no satellites beaming endless hours of mindless entertainment into his home. His view was quaint, and identical to that of every guest of the Canyon; a glimpse over the shale floor of Cosmo Canyon and into the fire pit, with the opposing cliffs standing like giants as the backdrop.
Cloud plopped down on his bed, thankful that of all the things from the real world to carry over even to such a remote and naturalistic place as Cosmo Canyon, wire-spring mattresses and cotton sheets were it.
The single-room hut was small, but he found the closeness of everything convenient. If he needed to pull the kettle from the burner, it was just a few steps away, and just about everything else was accessible from his bed. He reached for the little wicker table beside the bed and removed a tattered picture.
A girl, raven haired and stunningly beautiful gazed merrily at him from the thinly-laminated paper.
For as much as his daily walks through the mountains around Cosmo Canyon brought Cloud peace, he spent more time looking at this picture than anything else. More than the big sky around him, more than the majesty of the smooth cliffs, more than the friendly faces of the friendly folks he shared the friendly village with, he longed for the comfort of the familiar, and this picture was all he had of it.
The clatterbells followed shortly after the inviting scent of stew filled Cloud’s hut, bringing the little village to life.
***2****
Cosmo Canyon was, above all else, a scientific community. Upon making their pilgrimage, people with nothing more than a passionate interest in the study of life stayed to slake their thirst for knowledge, while some had spent years learning their disciplines and wished to put them to use here. They did so not because an internship at Cosmo Canyon would lead them to the high-paying jobs, but because Cosmo Canyon had been the only place in the world where science was not practiced in the name of profit.
While all of this meant scientific study would not die with the emergence of large corporations that paid scientists soley to publically discredit other scientists, Cloud found none of it terribly interesting. Standing in the dinner line meant overhearing a dozen conversations about things he knew nothing about, words he had no clue as to the meaning.
He held the hand-crafted wooden bowl out when he got to the cauldron, allowed for two hefty ladles of stew, and thanked the red-cheeked woman for the meal. She smiled, making her plump cheeks widen to a humourous level, and winked.
Most of the Canyonites milled around the pit, caught up in their conversations, but Cloud took his food back to his hut where he would eat alone. He didn’t find this to be a sad thing, as he had come here for solitude in the first place. Despite the remote nature of the Canyon, he had found little of it. So, when he wasn’t doing busywork in exchange for his housing, he escaped to the plateaus above; and when the village filled with chattering scientists, he squatted in his hut alone.
This didn’t mean Cloud never found time to chat up his neighbors, though. A lovely young girl by the name of Jena seemed to fancy his company, even joining him occasionally on his excursions to the plateaus. She was younger than him, thin but pretty, with light-brown hair, and a petite voice to compliment her petite frame. Cloud watched with some interest as Jena sauntered over to him, bowl in hand.
“Heya, Spikey,” She purred. Her wisp of a smile was wickedly attractive.
“Hey,” Cloud nodded in his I Could Care Less way.
Jena came through the narrow archway and sat opposite him at the table.
“OK, new question,” She said with a smile. “Got a spoon?”
Jena had taken to Cloud quickly after he arrived. Because he had been reluctant to discuss any matters Cloud-related, she convinced him that once a day she would come to him with a question about himself, which he would answer. He reluctantly agreed, and for the most part she hadn’t pried much. Over the last eight months Jena had learned the name of his hometown, the name of his first girlfriend, why he wore his hair that way, and countless other trivial tidbits.
“Yeah, be the burner. That was easy.” He said.
“Thanks. That wasn’t it.” She said, leaning over and grabbing the old metal spoon.
“It wasn’t,” He sighed.
“Nope. Eat your stew.”
“How can I answer the question with a mouthful of stew?” He smiled.
“How can you answer the question if I haven’t asked it yet?” She smiled back.
“I’m psychic. Was that the question?”
“No, but you already knew that. How’s that working out for you?”
“How’s what working out?”
“Being psychic,” She said, slurping a spoonful of broth. “I imagine it would get annoying, knowing what’s going to happen all the time.”
“You learn to cope. Was that the question?”
“Seeing as you’re not really psychic, no.”
“That’s too bad, because I could have gone on for hours.”
“I doubt you could go on for hours about anything. Why did you come here?” She said, her sharp green eyes holding steady to his.
Jena had big eyes, almost cartoonish in their size, but with her small frame they only made her cuter. They were bright, but not light, rather shining an emerald green. Deep and solemn, they belied her witty, outgoing personality.
“Because I like to eat alone.” He said.
“Yeah, you’re definitely not psychic. I mean, why did you come to Cosmo Canyon?” She said, this time with purpose, a contrast to the quick-tongued and snippy tone she typically had.
Cloud thought on this for a moment. He spooned a potato chunk and shoveled it into his gullet. He chewed thoughtfully. Jena had rarely asked a question he didn’t mind asking, though occasionally Cloud would think of ways to sugarcoat the truth behind his answer. He never lied; he just didn’t tell the whole truth, and only when the answer was something that would drastically change Jena’s opinion of him.
She was no older than sixteen, though Cloud had never asked her how old she actually was. Jena had never offered it, either. For as smart as she was for a girl of her age, he had no doubt she would sour at the discovery of what he had done, what he had been, before coming to Cosmo Canyon.
What was interest on her part would become pity, and Cloud would have none of it.
“Peace and quiet,” He finally said, stirring the meat and potatoes with his spoon.
“Well, you sure came to the wrong place,” She said, still looking at him. Studying him.
“Maybe, but I didn’t know that before.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” She asked.
“I thought you already asked your question.”
“I did. Now we’re just talking.”
“So talk.”
“Now you’re being stubborn.”
“Is this a conversation, or a case study?”
“More like observational humor. Why aren’t you eating?” Jena said, lowering her head to tease his gaze to her.
“You sure have a lot of questions today.”
“Is this a case study?” She smiled.
“Observational humor. I think I caught it from you when you sneezed.”
“I didn’t sneeze.”
“You will. I’m psychic, remember?”
***3***
When people had first come to Cosmo Canyon, they discovered a village carved out of the valley, yet had been untouched by human hands. Caves had been crudely cut out of the rock and shale, and a community had risen where no man had ever set foot.
The cat-like beasts that inhabited the canyon were hulking things, intimidating at first sight. The explorers who first made contact with the beasts learned quickly that beasts they were not, rather a completely intelligent race previously unknown to the rest of the world.
The diaries of those who first came to Cosmo Canyon tell stories of the explorers teaching the natives their language, allowing for the exchange of information, and shortly thereafter, the sharing of ideas.
The natives accepted the explorers, allowed them to share the village as their home. With them, the explorers brought tools to carve out more intricate domains, and as thanks for this, the natives allowed the explorers to carve out a vast series of caves and tunnels and rooms in which they could make their homes.
Years passed, and the cohabitation of Cosmo Canyon led to a strong friendship between the races, and when the time came, a fierce loyalty. The time came less than a century ago, when a tribe of barbarians known only as the Gi tried to invade the Canyon. History has never written of the Gi beyond the war of Cosmo Canyon; it isn’t known when their campaign started, or where it was headed. All that is known is that the history of the Gi ended at Cosmo Canyon, along with most of the canyon’s natives.
The humans suffered major casualties as well, fighting alongside their friends. The defense of Cosmo Canyon lasted a month’s time, and cost them greatly. When the Gi were thwarted, few were left to tell the story.
But life would find a way, and not long after the war, the canyon had become what it would remain until today–a community of discovery, where people came to study the nature of life. This wartime pact to dedicate this place to learning birthed a philosophy: The Study of Planet Life.
Cloud wandered the great caverns cut by those who were here first. The full-time residents of the canyon lived in these halls, carved in the belly of the plateau. Cloud was not looking for companionship among them, however; he was looking for one of the shopkeepers that peddles wares not suitable for the pilgrims to see.
His name was Tonu, and he sold weapons out of a modest room near the top of the cave maze.
A year ago, business was booming for the native of Wutai, a small villa on the Western-most continent. The traditional pilgrims who came to the canyon in search of enlightenment were replaced by rugged men and women in search of sacred weapons to wield in the their own personal wars, an edge to carry into battle against the rogue beasts that once stalked lands across the planet.
A year ago, the world changed. Cloud had been at the center of it, and had lost much along the way. When the last of the beasts had been vanquished, and their creator smote, Tonu’s business had dried up, and he felt loss of his own. What little patronage he had left was primarily of the hunter type; bows, arrows, quivers, nothing special.
But Cloud had been here before. He knew Tonu’s stock was exotic, and Tonu knew he could trust him. Besides that, Cloud had gil, something which had grown scarce in the last year.
Cloud knocked on the heavy wooden door. “Tonu’s Toys” was carved into its face.
Tonu was a slovenly man, as near-perfectly round as a human being could be. His hairline had retreated to the edges of his scalp, leaving a few long strands behind, like trees stand in a village as a reminder of the forest that once was.
Tonu rubbed his belly under his stained gray tank top, exposing the hairy overhang. He smacked the last tastes of dinner from his lips.
“Cloudy,” He said, as was Tonu’s standard greeting for him. “You look like you need somethin’.”
Cloud smiled. “Maybe. What’s for sale?”
Tonu’s eyes brightened, a smile with too-few teeth crept across his lips.
“Kid, that’s music to my ears.”
Tonu led Cloud into the dusty room, asked him to excuse the mess. The floor was littered with crates upon crates, while the walls were adorned with racks of bows and knives and other standards of the hunter trade. A table squatted along the one bare wall, an empty bowl on it.
“Business is good?” Cloud absently asked, admiring the quality of the weapons despite the grungy room. The wooden ones looked slick with laquer, while the metal ones shone as if they had just come off the assembly line. For as sloppy of a man as Tonu was, he certainly held his wares to a higher standard.
“Yeah, right,” Tonu said, taking a seat on one of the double-stacks of crates. These particular crates were marked “Bowline Inc,” a well-known producer of quality wooden bows. Cloud had a feeling that if anything was in those crates, none of it was of Bowline make. “I’m as rich as President Shinra.”
The reference forced Cloud to fight a shiver. Shinra was a name he’d rather soon forget.
“Anyway, what can I do for ya? You look like–“
”Like I need something, I know.” Cloud said, still gazing at the racks of weapons on the walls.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Somethin’ wrong, kid?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Kid, those are the prettiest words I ever heard in my life!”
Always the salesman, Tonu went into his spiel about how much a man needs a good bow (of course, Tonu hovered around the expensive rack, and the conversation hovered there as well) and even pulled a couple down to show Cloud how easily they pulled despite being the strongest string on the market.
“You don’t want a bow, do ya, kid?” Tonu realized, letting the expensive bow hang at his side.
“I don’t even know why I’m here, honestly. I just...I don’t know.”
“Well, what are ya huntin’?” Tonu said, wandering towards a stack of crates in a corner of the room.
Cloud gave him a cautious look. Tonu knew Cloud was no hunter. In the eight months he had been here, Cloud had never bought a weapon here, and even talked to Tonu about how ridiculous he found the idea of hunting, when food could be bought at stores, ordered in restaurants.
“Is it big game? ‘Cuz I might have what ya need for big game.”
“Tonu...?”
“Yeah, it’s big game. I knew it. Well,” He sighed, taking a crowbar from the stack of crates, and jamming it under the lip of one. He cranked until the squealing top was free, and reached in.
The small, military-issue rifle Tonu removed from the crate was brand new and gorgeous. But to Cloud it was hideous, cumbersome and constraining. He hated guns, and treated them like a plague.
“No?”
“No.”
“Fine, fine. Well, that’s the most expensive shit I got in here. And the best, too. They won’t let me sell ‘em, but I figured I’d make a special exception for you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Cloud said, a sly smile sliding across his face.
“Wha? Like I’d like to ya?”
“Is there a code word, or something? Last time I bought something heavy, you were legit, so I’m a little behind on the rules.”
“Kid, I don’t know what yer talking about.” Tonu protested, but not convincingly.
Cloud nodded slowly.
“Hey, times change, OK? The shit you bought–not that it was shit–went by the wayside when everything went down. Sold like hotcakes. I swear!”
“Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping to lighten my pockets a little, but nevermind.”
“A little?”
“Or a lot.” Cloud shrugged.
“How much is...a lot?”
“Depends on what I find. But I came to the wrong place. Sorry to waste your time, Tonu.”
Cloud turned to leave, but Tonu stammered a protest. Satisfied with the knowledge that he had found Tonu’s soft spot, Cloud faced him again, only hanging halfway in the door.
“Just hold on a second. Close the door, would ya?”
Cloud obliged. Tonu waddled over to the table he had eaten his dinner at, shoved it out of the way. With a grunt, he lowered himself to all fours, and fingered a crack in the wall. As Cloud watched, he noticed that the crack went up from the floor, across a few feet, then back to the floor. Stone slid against stone as a grunting Tonu pulled the slab away from the wall. A dark, gaping hole was left. Tonu reached in.
He removed a dusty black case. It was the width of the hole, and nearly as long as a man. From his knees, Tony brushed the dust and dirt from the case, revealing a dull shine. Carefully, he lifted the lid of the case, and Cloud watched a gleam dance in Tonu’s eye. He reached into the case, and held its contents at eye level.
The blade glistened in the room’s dim light, it’s hilt wrapped in cloth the red-brown color of blood. It was this moment that Cloud understood why Tonu sold weapons; it had nothing to do with the money, or at least that wasn’t the reason he started. It was his affinity for them, his appreciation of the beauty a weapon could possess. He held the sword with care, as if it were a king’s newborn son, and offered it to Cloud.
Cloud stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the long, sweeping blade, crafted with care into a slight curve. He reached for it, but Tonu pulled it back at the last moment.
“Where’s the gil, kid?” His harsh voice killing the atmosphere.
“I have it. What do you call it?”
Tonu’s eyes fell to the sword again. “Morimoto Honsu tempered this steel a thousand years ago in the village that would become Wutai, and he called it ‘Sorrow’,” He said eloquently, then, “Shit’s a beaut, ain’t it?”
“Sorrow...”
“That’s what I said, kid. Is this what yer lookin’ for?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” He said absently.
“Then make with the gil.”
Anyway, I fancy myself as a writer. I write just about every day, and have since I was a little kid. After I played through VII for the first time, I really wanted to put a bow on the vague ending in my own way: With words.
Needless to say, like any good writer, I procrastinated. I waited and waited for my muse, and every time I thought it came, I found myself writing flat retreads of the original storyline. I searched sites like fanfiction.com for the recipe. Not to steal ideas, mind you--merely to see someone else do it well enough to inspire me.
Sadly, as we all know, 95% of all fanfiction is either written embarrassingly poor, or features the two male characters secretly falling in love with each other. Or, in the worst cases, both are true. And even the better ones usually are written because some fanboy (or girl, which struck me as odd) wants to see the romance that "should" have been in the game, and are completely hollow in terms of plot.
But then I came across this website, and little story by Lady Aerith. If you haven't read it, (and excuse what I am about to do) GO READ IT. She took the story of Final Fantasy and crafted her own world around it, rich with her own characters, and a rich plot that does not suffer from the ailments I listed in the previous paragraph. It truly is a story worth reading, as she captures the MYTHOS of the world, not just the setting. I firmly believe that is the key.
And thanks to her, I found my muse, for real this time. Again, I didn't rip her off (as you'll see if you decide to read this), but I was so inspired by her story that the words almost came out all by themselves.
Enough about me. You're sick of me. I can tell.
This story begins in Cosmo Canyon, where Cloud Strife has made his home for the last eight months. Nearly a year has passed since Meteor, and whle the rest of the world is still recovering, the once-prosperous mining town of Corel is preparing to celebrate a new holiday: The Beasting.
I should warn you: This story takes place in something of an alternate universe, where none of the Square-for-profit games (or movies) have happened. That means ignore Crisis Core, Before Crisis, After Crisis, During The Crisis, Eating Froot Loops Despite Crisis, and also ignore the flick-for-profit Advent Children, or any of the countless sequals Square is bound to spin-off, such as Advent Teenagers, and Advent Old Fogeys.
Now, if you haven't already clicked on the "back" button, here is my story, entitled "The Beasting".
***1***
Cloud Strife found mountain air invigorating. There was less of it up here, but it was pure and fresh; Cloud could imagine the stale air swirling up to the heavens to be replaced by whirlwinds of clean air every so often. The clouds were few and far between, but they were magnificent plumes of talcum-white. Everything about the world was wonderful when viewed from the cliffs above Cosmo Canyon.
Though the clatterbells wouldn’t ring for another hour or so, Cloud felt a rumble in his belly, so he headed back to the Canyon. He took the well-beaten path around the low-rolling hills, which avoided the steepest of the cliffs. He ran his fingers across the fossilized bark of the deadwoods as the path sloped gently downward.
There were few native to Cosmo Canyon among the two- or three-dozen folks who called the place home, but Cloud found that they all treated the place as if they had been raised here themselves, or maybe wouldn’t mind raising their own young here. From cooking to cleaning to helping make the next batch of pilgrims feel comfortable and welcome, everyone at the Canyon did their part.
A few of the women stayed busy around the cauldron at the fire pit as Cloud emerged from the path. They waived as he passed, the fat one named Gertie sang a hello. Her voice was like a wind chime, and he always found her pleasant.
Beyond the low-slung pit was the town proper. A collection of slate huts carved from the side of the cliffs served as small sundry and food shops, while another peddled various types of alcohol. Several more offered the local musicians a place to show off their talents when the pilgrims came through, while some even offered lessons in their particular vocation.
Along the western edge of town were the bamboo huts the pilgrims stayed in. The huts could sleep twenty, though that was hardly enough, so a miniature tent village had been erected just a little further down the cliff’s face.
Cloud made his way to the huts, one of which he had called home for the last eight months.
He pulled off his tunic and tossed it on his bed. There was no answering machine for him to check messages on. There was no phone, either. He lit the gas burner he had placed on a well-crafted slate table, mixed up a kettle of tea. He turned to the window. There was no television to watch, no satellites beaming endless hours of mindless entertainment into his home. His view was quaint, and identical to that of every guest of the Canyon; a glimpse over the shale floor of Cosmo Canyon and into the fire pit, with the opposing cliffs standing like giants as the backdrop.
Cloud plopped down on his bed, thankful that of all the things from the real world to carry over even to such a remote and naturalistic place as Cosmo Canyon, wire-spring mattresses and cotton sheets were it.
The single-room hut was small, but he found the closeness of everything convenient. If he needed to pull the kettle from the burner, it was just a few steps away, and just about everything else was accessible from his bed. He reached for the little wicker table beside the bed and removed a tattered picture.
A girl, raven haired and stunningly beautiful gazed merrily at him from the thinly-laminated paper.
For as much as his daily walks through the mountains around Cosmo Canyon brought Cloud peace, he spent more time looking at this picture than anything else. More than the big sky around him, more than the majesty of the smooth cliffs, more than the friendly faces of the friendly folks he shared the friendly village with, he longed for the comfort of the familiar, and this picture was all he had of it.
The clatterbells followed shortly after the inviting scent of stew filled Cloud’s hut, bringing the little village to life.
***2****
Cosmo Canyon was, above all else, a scientific community. Upon making their pilgrimage, people with nothing more than a passionate interest in the study of life stayed to slake their thirst for knowledge, while some had spent years learning their disciplines and wished to put them to use here. They did so not because an internship at Cosmo Canyon would lead them to the high-paying jobs, but because Cosmo Canyon had been the only place in the world where science was not practiced in the name of profit.
While all of this meant scientific study would not die with the emergence of large corporations that paid scientists soley to publically discredit other scientists, Cloud found none of it terribly interesting. Standing in the dinner line meant overhearing a dozen conversations about things he knew nothing about, words he had no clue as to the meaning.
He held the hand-crafted wooden bowl out when he got to the cauldron, allowed for two hefty ladles of stew, and thanked the red-cheeked woman for the meal. She smiled, making her plump cheeks widen to a humourous level, and winked.
Most of the Canyonites milled around the pit, caught up in their conversations, but Cloud took his food back to his hut where he would eat alone. He didn’t find this to be a sad thing, as he had come here for solitude in the first place. Despite the remote nature of the Canyon, he had found little of it. So, when he wasn’t doing busywork in exchange for his housing, he escaped to the plateaus above; and when the village filled with chattering scientists, he squatted in his hut alone.
This didn’t mean Cloud never found time to chat up his neighbors, though. A lovely young girl by the name of Jena seemed to fancy his company, even joining him occasionally on his excursions to the plateaus. She was younger than him, thin but pretty, with light-brown hair, and a petite voice to compliment her petite frame. Cloud watched with some interest as Jena sauntered over to him, bowl in hand.
“Heya, Spikey,” She purred. Her wisp of a smile was wickedly attractive.
“Hey,” Cloud nodded in his I Could Care Less way.
Jena came through the narrow archway and sat opposite him at the table.
“OK, new question,” She said with a smile. “Got a spoon?”
Jena had taken to Cloud quickly after he arrived. Because he had been reluctant to discuss any matters Cloud-related, she convinced him that once a day she would come to him with a question about himself, which he would answer. He reluctantly agreed, and for the most part she hadn’t pried much. Over the last eight months Jena had learned the name of his hometown, the name of his first girlfriend, why he wore his hair that way, and countless other trivial tidbits.
“Yeah, be the burner. That was easy.” He said.
“Thanks. That wasn’t it.” She said, leaning over and grabbing the old metal spoon.
“It wasn’t,” He sighed.
“Nope. Eat your stew.”
“How can I answer the question with a mouthful of stew?” He smiled.
“How can you answer the question if I haven’t asked it yet?” She smiled back.
“I’m psychic. Was that the question?”
“No, but you already knew that. How’s that working out for you?”
“How’s what working out?”
“Being psychic,” She said, slurping a spoonful of broth. “I imagine it would get annoying, knowing what’s going to happen all the time.”
“You learn to cope. Was that the question?”
“Seeing as you’re not really psychic, no.”
“That’s too bad, because I could have gone on for hours.”
“I doubt you could go on for hours about anything. Why did you come here?” She said, her sharp green eyes holding steady to his.
Jena had big eyes, almost cartoonish in their size, but with her small frame they only made her cuter. They were bright, but not light, rather shining an emerald green. Deep and solemn, they belied her witty, outgoing personality.
“Because I like to eat alone.” He said.
“Yeah, you’re definitely not psychic. I mean, why did you come to Cosmo Canyon?” She said, this time with purpose, a contrast to the quick-tongued and snippy tone she typically had.
Cloud thought on this for a moment. He spooned a potato chunk and shoveled it into his gullet. He chewed thoughtfully. Jena had rarely asked a question he didn’t mind asking, though occasionally Cloud would think of ways to sugarcoat the truth behind his answer. He never lied; he just didn’t tell the whole truth, and only when the answer was something that would drastically change Jena’s opinion of him.
She was no older than sixteen, though Cloud had never asked her how old she actually was. Jena had never offered it, either. For as smart as she was for a girl of her age, he had no doubt she would sour at the discovery of what he had done, what he had been, before coming to Cosmo Canyon.
What was interest on her part would become pity, and Cloud would have none of it.
“Peace and quiet,” He finally said, stirring the meat and potatoes with his spoon.
“Well, you sure came to the wrong place,” She said, still looking at him. Studying him.
“Maybe, but I didn’t know that before.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” She asked.
“I thought you already asked your question.”
“I did. Now we’re just talking.”
“So talk.”
“Now you’re being stubborn.”
“Is this a conversation, or a case study?”
“More like observational humor. Why aren’t you eating?” Jena said, lowering her head to tease his gaze to her.
“You sure have a lot of questions today.”
“Is this a case study?” She smiled.
“Observational humor. I think I caught it from you when you sneezed.”
“I didn’t sneeze.”
“You will. I’m psychic, remember?”
***3***
When people had first come to Cosmo Canyon, they discovered a village carved out of the valley, yet had been untouched by human hands. Caves had been crudely cut out of the rock and shale, and a community had risen where no man had ever set foot.
The cat-like beasts that inhabited the canyon were hulking things, intimidating at first sight. The explorers who first made contact with the beasts learned quickly that beasts they were not, rather a completely intelligent race previously unknown to the rest of the world.
The diaries of those who first came to Cosmo Canyon tell stories of the explorers teaching the natives their language, allowing for the exchange of information, and shortly thereafter, the sharing of ideas.
The natives accepted the explorers, allowed them to share the village as their home. With them, the explorers brought tools to carve out more intricate domains, and as thanks for this, the natives allowed the explorers to carve out a vast series of caves and tunnels and rooms in which they could make their homes.
Years passed, and the cohabitation of Cosmo Canyon led to a strong friendship between the races, and when the time came, a fierce loyalty. The time came less than a century ago, when a tribe of barbarians known only as the Gi tried to invade the Canyon. History has never written of the Gi beyond the war of Cosmo Canyon; it isn’t known when their campaign started, or where it was headed. All that is known is that the history of the Gi ended at Cosmo Canyon, along with most of the canyon’s natives.
The humans suffered major casualties as well, fighting alongside their friends. The defense of Cosmo Canyon lasted a month’s time, and cost them greatly. When the Gi were thwarted, few were left to tell the story.
But life would find a way, and not long after the war, the canyon had become what it would remain until today–a community of discovery, where people came to study the nature of life. This wartime pact to dedicate this place to learning birthed a philosophy: The Study of Planet Life.
Cloud wandered the great caverns cut by those who were here first. The full-time residents of the canyon lived in these halls, carved in the belly of the plateau. Cloud was not looking for companionship among them, however; he was looking for one of the shopkeepers that peddles wares not suitable for the pilgrims to see.
His name was Tonu, and he sold weapons out of a modest room near the top of the cave maze.
A year ago, business was booming for the native of Wutai, a small villa on the Western-most continent. The traditional pilgrims who came to the canyon in search of enlightenment were replaced by rugged men and women in search of sacred weapons to wield in the their own personal wars, an edge to carry into battle against the rogue beasts that once stalked lands across the planet.
A year ago, the world changed. Cloud had been at the center of it, and had lost much along the way. When the last of the beasts had been vanquished, and their creator smote, Tonu’s business had dried up, and he felt loss of his own. What little patronage he had left was primarily of the hunter type; bows, arrows, quivers, nothing special.
But Cloud had been here before. He knew Tonu’s stock was exotic, and Tonu knew he could trust him. Besides that, Cloud had gil, something which had grown scarce in the last year.
Cloud knocked on the heavy wooden door. “Tonu’s Toys” was carved into its face.
Tonu was a slovenly man, as near-perfectly round as a human being could be. His hairline had retreated to the edges of his scalp, leaving a few long strands behind, like trees stand in a village as a reminder of the forest that once was.
Tonu rubbed his belly under his stained gray tank top, exposing the hairy overhang. He smacked the last tastes of dinner from his lips.
“Cloudy,” He said, as was Tonu’s standard greeting for him. “You look like you need somethin’.”
Cloud smiled. “Maybe. What’s for sale?”
Tonu’s eyes brightened, a smile with too-few teeth crept across his lips.
“Kid, that’s music to my ears.”
Tonu led Cloud into the dusty room, asked him to excuse the mess. The floor was littered with crates upon crates, while the walls were adorned with racks of bows and knives and other standards of the hunter trade. A table squatted along the one bare wall, an empty bowl on it.
“Business is good?” Cloud absently asked, admiring the quality of the weapons despite the grungy room. The wooden ones looked slick with laquer, while the metal ones shone as if they had just come off the assembly line. For as sloppy of a man as Tonu was, he certainly held his wares to a higher standard.
“Yeah, right,” Tonu said, taking a seat on one of the double-stacks of crates. These particular crates were marked “Bowline Inc,” a well-known producer of quality wooden bows. Cloud had a feeling that if anything was in those crates, none of it was of Bowline make. “I’m as rich as President Shinra.”
The reference forced Cloud to fight a shiver. Shinra was a name he’d rather soon forget.
“Anyway, what can I do for ya? You look like–“
”Like I need something, I know.” Cloud said, still gazing at the racks of weapons on the walls.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Somethin’ wrong, kid?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Kid, those are the prettiest words I ever heard in my life!”
Always the salesman, Tonu went into his spiel about how much a man needs a good bow (of course, Tonu hovered around the expensive rack, and the conversation hovered there as well) and even pulled a couple down to show Cloud how easily they pulled despite being the strongest string on the market.
“You don’t want a bow, do ya, kid?” Tonu realized, letting the expensive bow hang at his side.
“I don’t even know why I’m here, honestly. I just...I don’t know.”
“Well, what are ya huntin’?” Tonu said, wandering towards a stack of crates in a corner of the room.
Cloud gave him a cautious look. Tonu knew Cloud was no hunter. In the eight months he had been here, Cloud had never bought a weapon here, and even talked to Tonu about how ridiculous he found the idea of hunting, when food could be bought at stores, ordered in restaurants.
“Is it big game? ‘Cuz I might have what ya need for big game.”
“Tonu...?”
“Yeah, it’s big game. I knew it. Well,” He sighed, taking a crowbar from the stack of crates, and jamming it under the lip of one. He cranked until the squealing top was free, and reached in.
The small, military-issue rifle Tonu removed from the crate was brand new and gorgeous. But to Cloud it was hideous, cumbersome and constraining. He hated guns, and treated them like a plague.
“No?”
“No.”
“Fine, fine. Well, that’s the most expensive shit I got in here. And the best, too. They won’t let me sell ‘em, but I figured I’d make a special exception for you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Cloud said, a sly smile sliding across his face.
“Wha? Like I’d like to ya?”
“Is there a code word, or something? Last time I bought something heavy, you were legit, so I’m a little behind on the rules.”
“Kid, I don’t know what yer talking about.” Tonu protested, but not convincingly.
Cloud nodded slowly.
“Hey, times change, OK? The shit you bought–not that it was shit–went by the wayside when everything went down. Sold like hotcakes. I swear!”
“Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping to lighten my pockets a little, but nevermind.”
“A little?”
“Or a lot.” Cloud shrugged.
“How much is...a lot?”
“Depends on what I find. But I came to the wrong place. Sorry to waste your time, Tonu.”
Cloud turned to leave, but Tonu stammered a protest. Satisfied with the knowledge that he had found Tonu’s soft spot, Cloud faced him again, only hanging halfway in the door.
“Just hold on a second. Close the door, would ya?”
Cloud obliged. Tonu waddled over to the table he had eaten his dinner at, shoved it out of the way. With a grunt, he lowered himself to all fours, and fingered a crack in the wall. As Cloud watched, he noticed that the crack went up from the floor, across a few feet, then back to the floor. Stone slid against stone as a grunting Tonu pulled the slab away from the wall. A dark, gaping hole was left. Tonu reached in.
He removed a dusty black case. It was the width of the hole, and nearly as long as a man. From his knees, Tony brushed the dust and dirt from the case, revealing a dull shine. Carefully, he lifted the lid of the case, and Cloud watched a gleam dance in Tonu’s eye. He reached into the case, and held its contents at eye level.
The blade glistened in the room’s dim light, it’s hilt wrapped in cloth the red-brown color of blood. It was this moment that Cloud understood why Tonu sold weapons; it had nothing to do with the money, or at least that wasn’t the reason he started. It was his affinity for them, his appreciation of the beauty a weapon could possess. He held the sword with care, as if it were a king’s newborn son, and offered it to Cloud.
Cloud stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the long, sweeping blade, crafted with care into a slight curve. He reached for it, but Tonu pulled it back at the last moment.
“Where’s the gil, kid?” His harsh voice killing the atmosphere.
“I have it. What do you call it?”
Tonu’s eyes fell to the sword again. “Morimoto Honsu tempered this steel a thousand years ago in the village that would become Wutai, and he called it ‘Sorrow’,” He said eloquently, then, “Shit’s a beaut, ain’t it?”
“Sorrow...”
“That’s what I said, kid. Is this what yer lookin’ for?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” He said absently.
“Then make with the gil.”
Last edited:
