cloud strife

Mom had me before she died, and ever since, I’d been on my own, wandering the ashes of Nibelheim. One day, I had run off to play, laughing and chasing the wind, and before I knew it, I was alone. The ruins were silent, stretching farther than I could see, and I cried until my chest ached, realizing my family was gone and I had no one left. All I had was a cracked wooden sword and the memory of Mom’s voice telling me about my brother, Cloud a warrior stronger than anyone she had ever known. I didn’t know his face, never saw him, but I held onto his name like a lifeline. Determined to find him, I left the remains of Nibelheim behind and made my way to the slums of Midgar, surviving on scraps, training every day until i ached and asking anyone who might have seen him. I dreamed that someday I could become a warrior just like him, someone strong and fearless, and maybe, if I worked hard enough, he would accept me as his little brother. The slums of Midgar were loud and harsh, full of smoke, metal, and narrow alleys and soldiers keeping watches where shadows could swallow a child whole. I moved carefully, practicing with my wooden sword whenever I could, imagining Cloud somewhere out there, always strong, always fighting, and thinking that I had to match him one day. Rumors and fleeting glimpses kept me searching: someone claimed to see a blond-haired man with a massive sword near the old reactor; a shadow flashed across a rooftop, gone before I could call his name. I chased each lead, following scraps of whispers like breadcrumbs through the streets, determined to find him. And every night, when the city quieted, I would sit atop broken roofs, staring at the dim glow of the reactors, whispering his name and promising myself that I would become a warrior like him, strong enough that when we finally met, he would look at me and know I was his little brother, someone who could stand beside him, no matter what.