Eternal Rivals: Cloud vs. Sephiroth

[Tasuke]

“I will never be a memory...”

The tingling pain of his gashes is secondary to Sefirosu's annoyance, inspired by Kuraudo's euphoric elation. As he hovered above the decimated Shinra construct, awash in the spilling aurora of heaven, he glares at the charlatan with wide-eyed displeasure. It appears as though the puppet had deluded himself into believing his victory is somehow meaningful.

Nauseating defeat stings for mere moments before the flap of Sefirosu's wing robes him and pulls him back into the abyss; the all-swallowing blackness reserved for unsettled spirits. It's there he will fester 'til inevitable rebirth. Thrice has he suffered shame at the hand of a worm, and the fourth shall be retribution penned by his own cruel hand; his will shall see to it.

A few years pass before all the marionettes are calm in their beds; even the resourceful misfits who war against him futilely. They had forgotten to revere his name and fear his return. But the time had come, his mind roused by the royal timbre of his dear mother when she told him to wake. Deep within the northern wound of ancient days, he hears her call and stirs from slumber; the earth trembles in anxiety; the heavens darken and weep in travail; lightning cracks and writes electric melody with thunder the drums of a godly welcome.

From the mouth of the crater bubbles a taint; black, matted cancer flowing over its lips like a gurgling geyser. It gushes a watery exclamation, a tower of listless obsidian whose mist speckles the scar and reveals the harbinger of future afflictions. The spire recedes, but the hovering figure left behind takes humanly shape and color. First is the wet flesh and second the soaked crown of long, silver hair. Twin bangs fang over the finely cut curves of his face before it's incised with a pair of cat-like, tourmaline green eyes. Leather sews itself over his body, left open at his chest and capped with stainless steel pauldrons that vein with running water.

Amidst a deep breath of refreshingly stale air, Sefirosu parts his arms and turns the palms upward in celebration; he leans his head back with closing eyes while his mouth parts in the greatest of grins. Then his deep, rumbling tone voices the prologue of his ultimate revenge, spliced by a thunderclap and opening eyes. “Are you ready... Cloud?”

[Kuraudo]

An ominous pillar of light transcends the wintery depths of the Northen Crater. A foul energy that snuffs out the worldly and heavenly vibrance of Gaia. This malevolent force summons a certain someone to ward off a threatening revival. Kuraudo Sutoraifu, the planet's #1 champion, returns to the icebound land. The supposed resting place of Sefirosu; the One-Winged Angel.

No one knows why he's back or how he avoid being assimulated into the Lifestream. But here he stands as if nothing happened. One can say that his resilience is uncanny, able to triumph over any obstacle. Another would advocate Sefirosu is the incarnation of revenge, driven by ill will. His dark recrudescene means only one thing: to finish what he started.

A week before meeting his rivalrous opposite, Kuraudo had dreams about Sefirosu. Rather, he bawls out to the ex-SOLDIER psychically for a decisive showdown. It was impossible. There's no way he can be alive, but Kuraudo questions whether Sefirosu had risen from the grave. He took it upon himself to find out the truth, and embark upon a lone journey.

He heads for the WRO (World Regenesis Organization) base first after calling Reeve Tuesti, the company's founder and the one who engineered Cait Sith. Kuraudo asks Reeve if he could help him see a way to the North Crater. He clues him in on the details which leaves Reeve in awe. The former chief of Shinra's Urban Development gladly assist Kuraudo, and offer to send some of his troops as back-up. The ex-SOLDIER declines, saying that an air carrier will suffice. The rest must be done solo.

Through the use of Fenrir, a WRO pilot and her aircraft, Kuraudo arrives at the stormy and crepuscular north. Any doubts he had before getting here vanishes like danger to the faint-hearted. It wasn't a dream. Sefirosu is back. All the evidence he needs is there sparkling before his blue eyes. What really brings it home is when the collumn of black light ushers in the brunt of this deathly venue.

Kuraudo doesn't hesitate to ready himself for a long-fought battle. His footing comes at shoulders' width with the complete First Tsurugi in both hands. When Sefirosu queries him from several yards away, the squatting, fierce-mugging ex-SOLDIER responds. "Let's finish this! And this time you won't return!" This is his promise to Gaia; to everyone; to himself.

[Tasuke]

The repetitive resonance of a helicopter alerts Sefirosu of an approach that managed to subtly overpower the drums of ongoing thunder; perhaps the carriage of the puppet he yearned to gut afresh. He turns toward its source, merely a growing speck on the horizon as it approached him. Fibers of his being, the very cells of Jenova stir like wild, teenage infatuation; nothing can conceal Kuraudo's presence upon the aircraft. A sinister grin graces his handsome face at this wonderful truth; Kuraudo has heeded the beckoning of nightly visions and chosen to die cold and alone, without the touching embrace of his female sweetheart as he draws his final bleeding breath.

In time, the low-class stands before his superior, armed with the mechanical cleaver while his ride departs into the rainy darkness. Sefirosu's gelid and ecstatic stare stabs into Kuraudo like a fireplace sticker; one thousand times and more had he envisioned flaying the fluke like a fish, and the imaginings are made all the more delicious when Kuraudo opens his stupid mouth.

“Let's finish this! This time you won't return!”

A darkly deep and long chuckle escapes his throat; he shook his head slowly. “Cloud, Cloud, Cloud... how long before you finally understand...”

The airborne SOLDIER supreme assumes his trademark posture, his hands brought alongside the left side of his face while they clutched a yet invisible object and legs slightly tucked in. His brand is birthed with a riveting sound of sea green flame, that perfect arc called Masamune cut into flat existence and aimed at the bull's eye he drew upon Kuraudo's chest.

A scintillating flash of lighting cleaves the lamenting sky and kisses his steel with glittering glow.

Then he moved toward Kuraudo in a graceful glide above the snowy rocks below and earth-rattling thunder filled his final words. “I will always come back for you...”

[Kuraudo]

"Shut up!" clamors an angry Kuraudo. Each encounter he has with Sefirosu, his hatred is rekindled. A burning resentment that rages like Greek fire in response to a certain day. Back when he canonized the Class 1st SOLDIER before Nibelheim, his hometown, went up in flames. Many lives were taken that day at the hand of Sefirosu, and for that, he'll never forgive him.

At the crack of thunder, the villainous SOLDIER bounds forth with fantastic speed. Almost as if he's skiing along the mountainous slopes with little or no effort. But his facile approach causes Kuraudo to spark one of his own. A staunch leap whose force sends a snowy cloud in its wake. It almost appears that he's flying, portrayed by the waver of his spiky-blonde hair and swarthy apparel.

The First Tsurugi remains secure in his gripping palms, and pushed more to the corner of his right side. In its reflection, the face of the sword, is a cultivating darkness; the backdrop. It's lit by flashes of lightning, veining across the northen skies. And with every glimmer, the body of Sefirosu is shown within its glossy countenance. Closer and closer.

It's only a matter of moments until these powerhouses collide.

[Tasuke]

Kuraudo's fierce animosity is like a succulent wine to the SOLDIER commander, a saccharine flavor to be unhurriedly savored. The low-class reject is already suspended upon the twine, poised to dance like the doll he is. Crackles of flickering darkness call for a slicing of strings and before all is done, Sefirosu will wholeheartedly oblige.

Veering a bit to his right, he buys an increase of room. The three-yard length of Masamune affords excelling striking space, brought to bear when its wielder shifts its position for an opening slash performed in passing: a two-handed swipe from Kuraudo's left side, a swift yet graceful, upward diagonal from seven feet away and marked for the abdomen. It whispers with a metal fluting as it moves, the prelude to a more deadly medley; only Kuraudo can direct where the music goes from here.

[Kuraudo]

At Kuraudo's riposte, the First Tsurugi is lowered. It rides around waist level before it is lifted in the path of the Masamune. His own double-handed strike makes an acclivous left, opposing its slim-bladed cousin. Both weapons clash, but the ex-SOLDIER's retaliative hit could possibly award him a gambit. Being that his attack had more backing; more pull behind it. And because his swing comes from underneath, congruent with Sefirosu's slanted side-to-side slash.

If proven successful, the blow will clear a way for Kuraudo to pass freely. When he lands, both boots would slide upon the cold, rocky surface as he turns and rebounds from the assault. A feasible outcome if Sefirosu chooses otherwise.

[Tasuke]

A solitary pang of metal began the foreplay, merely a flirtatious kiss betwixt two competing steels in a harmless proem. The sound electrifies Sefirosu's systems with fresh adrenaline as he continues several meters past Kuraudo, seven in total. At that mark, his boots bury into the snowy floor and he smoothly turns his left side toward the pretender while directing his ringing Masamune to the fore. Its upturned curve comes to face level with a slight downward slant, the hilt put parallel with his sinistral ear with centered point posed in Kuraudo's encroaching person. Sefirosu's knees bend ever so slightly, his salacious leer crazed and unblinking upon his timeless enemy.

Statuesque, the stage is now set. Kuraudo is voicelessly beckoned to engage just as before, to foolishly exhaust himself; unfortunately, there would be no fluke repeat of triumph. Presumption and conceit both burned in the fire of Sefirosu's murderous spirit, and although playtime had only just commenced, he intended to create a confection exclusively short and sweet.

[Kuraudo]

The First Ken stays firm in the vise of his gloved hands. It, as usual, lies flat on his right side near chest level as he runs feverously. Like an ending to a story, Kuraudo closes in on his nemesis who stands jelled to the ground. And like any good fable, Sefirosu keeps the suspense on tenterhooks. Not making a move until the moment seems proper.

Lightning ignites the sky again, flashing from a distance on both sides. It's the outward manifestation of the rage dwelling within the ex-SOLDIER. Even thunder, booming and rumbling in the background, personifies the outcry of his woes.

[Tasuke]

Kuraudo's footsteps crunch a perfect tempo into the snow. Seamless; exhilarating; meshed into a sweet bolero of rolling thunder. Refraining to grin became a struggle for Sefirosu, who could quiver because of the sheer thrill lacing what will be their finest, final hour. Even Gaia herself shakes the earth beneath them as another, sun-bright flash of lightning and loud crack of thunder fray the arctic air.

But the SOLDIER doesn't budge. Let Kuraudo come and perform the opening notes of a signature anthem, an ominous composition which begins with a chime.

[Kuraudo]

Crushing the snow with rapid feet is the ex-SOLDIER. He's rushing in to downsize his silver-haired nemesis with a hefty assault. And unlike their wintery battlefield, the farness that sets them apart steadily melts away. Reduced to five yards and counting.

At three yards, the First Tsurugi is engulfed in a spiritual shroud. A bluish-green aura that's known as the 'magic light' or mako energy. It's the result of Kuraudo's inner strength rising to the surface. Or rather the live illustration of being enraged. This form of power causes the fusion swords to seperate from the mainblade. They all shoot behind Kuraudo only to gather in a ring formation.

At two yards, one of the auxiliary swords darts out from the bunch. It was the switchblade that takes the first plunge, and spears its way to Sefirosu. But will this harpooning attempt stick into the waist of its target? The proceeds are malleable.