Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Cloud had to step back and realize just how insane his life was.

He grew up in Nibelheim, a mountain town in the middle of nowhere. The people were friendly, for the most part, but he never really felt at ‘home’ there. He wanted to move out as soon as he could, to the big city of Midgar where life was much more active. Sephiroth, his childhood hero, only built up on that urge.

At the lovely ripe age of 16, he moved to Midgar. He signed up to work for Shinra, tried out for SOLDIER, and then failed. With his pride severely wounded, he continued to work for Shinra as an infantryman, making just enough money to keep stable and have somewhere to sleep at night. His life was boring, sure, but it was enough to get by.

Somewhere down the line, Cloud met a very eccentric SOLDIER named Zack. His mentor had died that same day, but the two continued to be friends, supporting each other through the chaotic mess that was becoming of Shinra. 

And then the two were assigned on a mission to Nibelheim, accompanied by Sephiroth.

Everything took a U-turn on that day. It was all still a bit fuzzy in Cloud’s memory; all he remembered was the burning village and the Buster Sword heavy in his hands as he drove it through Sephiroth’s back. There was one person who remembered what happened after that,  but unfortunately, Cloud didn’t.

5 years later, he dragged himself to Midgar after losing one friend and gaining one very large sword and a completely disorganized and altered mind. He tricked himself into believing he was SOLDIER (he wasn’t,) and that he made it all the way to Midgar himself to become a mercenary (he didn’t.)

After he got hired by AVALANCHE, the events following both felt so long and so fast at the same time.

Mako Reactor 1 blowing up. Falling into the slums. Meeting Aerith. Sneaking back to Sector 7. Wall Market. The plate falling and Aerith being kidnapped. Sneaking into Shinra HQ to get her back and meeting Red XIII. Masamune stabbed through the President’s back. Finding Sephiroth, and then all the chaos that followed.

After Meteor had happened, Cloud thought that it was finally all over.

Nope. Sephiroth just had to rub it in his face.

2 years later, an unknown disease had plagued Midgar. Three silver-haired teenagers had appeared, kidnapped several children infected with Geostigma, and used them to their advantage to find “Mother” and resurrect Sephiroth. 

After they were almost successful, they were too weakened to fight, and didn’t have anywhere else to go. Too fearful to let them roam unattended, Cloud rounded up the teenagers and took them in.

Now, one of those said teenagers was currently sleeping on his couch.

After a long day of accompanying Cloud on deliveries, killing every monster they came across and making several pit-stops along the way, Kadaj had been sufficiently exhausted. The moment he made it back home, he flopped onto the couch and passed out.

That was five hours ago. It was almost 2am now. While Cloud cleaned up for the night, he kept glancing back at Kadaj, watching him sleep peacefully.

He looked so young at times like this. His thin frame was curled into an impressively small ball, taking up only a quarter of the couch, his hands tucked gently under his head. Cloud would’ve moved him to the Remnants’ room, but he didn’t want to risk waking him up and getting a fist to the face.

Kadaj wasn’t a bad person. Just misguided. All he had ever known was that he needed to find Mother, the only sign of salvation he had. It took a while for Cloud to realize that if he were in that same situation, where the only thing he ever knew how to do was search for a small glimpse of hope, he would’ve done the same thing.

The Remnants still had their moments now and then, ranging from unintentionally stealing from a grocery store to having to be reminded that murder was not okay. Other than that, though, they were pretty much just a group of very disorganized teenage brothers.

Yazoo was the quietest, but he was far from shy. He discovered pretty quickly that he loved reading, and over time, he began his own little book collection in his corner of the room. Loz was the exact opposite; what he lacked in mental strength he made up for in physical strength, and, well, he was very muscular. Cloud had converted half of the garage into a gym for him to work out.

Kadaj, however, spent most of his time trailing Cloud like a lost duckling. Cloud didn’t mind it most of the time since Kadaj was great at staying out of the way or helping when Cloud asked for it. It just seemed that Kadaj hadn’t found a passion to embrace like Yazoo or Loz had.

Cloud turned and glanced at him on the couch again, his heart skipping a beat when he noticed that something was very wrong.

The boy’s face was twisted in a grimace, and Cloud could see his fingers twitching beside his head, as if trying to grasp something. Hesitantly, he approached Kadaj, keeping his footsteps quiet to avoid startling him awake. Kadaj’s hearing was just as--if not more--sensitive than Cloud’s.

Just as Cloud reached out, Kadaj violently flinched, somehow curling into an even tighter ball and letting out a strangled whine. Cloud froze, watching as Kadaj buried his face into his knees, shaking so violently that he could visibly see it.

“N-no,” Kadaj mumbled. “No, please -- I don’t…”

Shit . He was having a nightmare.

Cloud had no idea what to do in this situation. He was decent at parenting - that is, keeping them alive at least - but he had no idea how to calm someone down from a nightmare. Kadaj’s was probably very bad from the looks of it, and if it wasn’t taken care of, it could turn into a night terror, which were far worse and harder to recover from. 

Just as Cloud stood up and began to think of what to do, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

He turned to see Yazoo trailing down the steps, footsteps heavy from sleepiness and one hand absent-mindedly rubbing at his eyes. His hair was tied into a short but thick braid to keep it from tangling overnight.

He didn’t say a word to Cloud. He simply saw Kadaj on the couch and bee-lined towards him, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around his brother’s small frame. 

“I-I don’t want to… ” Kadaj mumbled.

“Shhh,” Yazoo shushed quietly. “It’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Cloud could only assume that the ‘he’ in question was Sephiroth. He stood there and watched as Yazoo hugged his brother for a moment longer before shifting to sit on the couch, moving Kadaj into his lap and running his fingers through his short hair. The younger’s cheek pillowed against his brother’s thighs, brow still furrowed and lips tugged into a scowl.

“Will he be okay?” Cloud asked quietly.

Yazoo’s head snapped up as if he just noticed that Cloud was there. When he realized, he visibly relaxed and then nodded. “I’ve dealt with this before.”

Something in Cloud’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “This happens often?”

“He’s always had nightmares,” Yazoo answered. “It’s not every night, but still.”

Cloud cringed at the thought. The Remnants were pretty much homeless for the first few weeks of their existence, running around with nothing but their motorcycles in the vast expanse of Gaia. He couldn’t imagine how having nightmares would make the situation any better. Though, that begged the question…

“Do you also have nightmares?” Cloud asked.

“Not nightmares,” Yazoo said, shaking his head. “But dreams. Strange ones.”

Shrugging, Cloud started to make his way over to the bar to finish cleaning it up. “Dreams are always strange. They’re just big jumbled up movies of memories you have.”

“That’s the thing,” Yazoo countered. “They weren’t memories. Not mine, at least.”

Cloud paused halfway through reaching for a towel. Not his memories? What on Gaia could he mean by that? He turned back to the remnant, watching him effortlessly pull out the hair tie holding his braid together and letting the silver strands cascade over his shoulders like a waterfall. He kept his other hand placed on Kadaj’s shoulder, rubbing absent-mindedly to lull the other back into peaceful sleep.

“I see people that I’ve never met, and places that I’m sure I’ve never been to. But at the same time, it’s all so familiar.” Yazoo ran a hand through his hair to straighten it out. “Kadaj and Loz get them too, sometimes, but not nearly as much as me.”

Bee-lining for the cabinet, Cloud decided he needed to do something with his hands while he processed all of this. His eyes landed on a box full of small hot chocolate packages. 

“I’m gonna make hot chocolate,” Cloud decided out loud. “For when Kadaj wakes up. You want some, Yaz?”

“Yes, please,” Came the quiet but polite reply.

Cloud expected that answer. None of the Remnants could suppress their sweet tooths. He hesitated for a second before pulling out four packs, knowing full well that the sweet smell would wake a Certain Someone up and he would beg for hot chocolate until he cried.

While he worked on starting those, he asked Yazoo, “So what did you see in your dreams?”

Yazoo’s lips pursed as he thought about it. “A lot of… Empty rooms. Nothing but white walls and metal beds,” He started. “And… A man in a white coat.”

Hojo. No doubt about it. Being who they were, Cloud knew that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that the Remnants were having flashbacks about Sephiroth’s own memories. With a heavy sigh, Cloud poured the previously warmed milk into the four mugs filled with chocolate powder. The smell was pleasant and warm, despite the heavy conversation topic.

And then Yazoo said, “Kadaj said he once had a dream about a burning village.”

That struck a chord. 

Cloud had to rather forcefully put down the pot to not burn himself by accident. He leaned on the counter, taking deep, labored breaths through his nose. He tried to not let the impending panic attack show on his face as he focused intently on the mugs instead. 

That was evidently a bad idea, because once the hot steam hit his face, he was back in Nibelheim, crawling on the ground, smoke choking him and burning his lungs, the silver gleam of a blade getting closer and closer and--

“Cloud?”

He shook his head and looked up.

Yazoo was staring at him, concern plastered on his pale features. For a moment, Cloud looked into those green feline eyes and only saw Sephiroth, but he knew that Yazoo wasn’t him. He knew that the Remnants weren’t responsible for this. They never wanted this. They never asked for this.

“Sorry, just… Reminded me of something. That’s all. I’ll be fine,” Cloud reassured, y’know, like a liar.

Yazoo didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t argue on it further. Cloud glanced down at Kadaj, who was no longer grimacing and muttering pleas for help. That was a good sign.

Turning back to the hot chocolate, Cloud took a heaping spoonful of sugar and dunked it into Kadaj’s mug for good measure. He loved things sickeningly sweet to the point that it would make a normal man throw up, but luckily, Kadaj was anything but a normal man.

They all had their own mugs that they got as gifts from Tifa. Loz’s was a ceramic mug shaped like the head of a cat, Yazoo’s was an ornate clear glass mug with stars and constellations carved into it, and Kadaj’s was a plain black mug that had “Fuck Off” written on it in sparkly cursive.

Cloud took the mugs and moved them to one of the center tables, handing Yazoo his designated mug and earning a polite ‘thank you’ in return. He always appreciated how naturally mannered Yazoo was. It surprised him at first, but now he was more than used to it.

Just as Cloud expected, once the smell of hot chocolate wafted far enough, heavy footsteps began thudding down the stairs, and soon Loz turned the corner, rubbing his eyes in a similar manner to Yazoo. “I smelled chocolate.”

“That you did,” Cloud confirmed, handing out his designated mug. 

The smile on Loz’s face was bright enough to blind someone. He took the mug graciously and sipped on it before glancing between him and Yazoo. “What were ya talking about?”

“Those dreams we keep having,” Yazoo explained, doing air-quotes around the word “dreams.” 

It took a moment before realization dawned on Loz’s face. “Oh, those. I remember one I had where there was this guy in a red coat. I was angry at him for some reason. And then there was this one with a huge guy, like me, but he had black hair and a beard. I was sad about that one.”

“Sad?” Cloud asked. The black hair sounded familiar, but it couldn’t have been Zack. He didn’t have a beard.

“Yeah,” Loz confirmed. “Like, that same kind of sadness that I get when Yazoo or Kadaj leave for a long time.”

“So you missed him?” Yazoo asked. “Even though you don’t know him?”

“It’s weird, right? And that guy in red-- I was really annoyed at him. I really wanted to punch him in the face, but I couldn’t. I could only watch. Man, I hate those dreams… Sometimes I just don’t wanna sleep at all because of them.” Loz pouted before taking a sad sip of his hot chocolate.

“Speaking of sleeping,” Yazoo said, gesturing downwards.

On his lap, Kadaj was beginning to stir. The oldest rolled onto his back, stretching his arms out above him and squinting his eyes shut for a moment before releasing all the tension and flopping into the couch like a limp fish. He then opened his eyes and looked up at Yazoo and Loz, confusion plastered on his face.

“Good morning!” Loz said cheerfully. “Or-- Well. I dunno what time it is.”

Kadaj let out a sound that was half-way between a groan and a sigh before heaving himself out of Yazoo’s lap and onto an unoccupied portion of the couch. When he was immediately greeted with a mug of extra-sweetened hot chocolate, his bright green eyes lit up, and Cloud counted that as a win. He quickly wrapped both hands around the mug and downed it like it was the first thing he had to drink in years.

“Feeling better?” Yazoo asked softly.

“Hm?” Kadaj glanced at him over the rim of his mug, and then remembered. “Oh, yeah. Just a nightmare about Sephiroth. Same as usual.”

The way he said that so casually made Cloud simultaneously want to chuckle and also resurrect Sephiroth just to murder him again. 

Sipping on his own hot chocolate, Cloud watched as Loz sat down on the other side of Kadaj, the larger twins inadvertently trapping him between them. Although they didn’t touch or outwardly talk, Cloud could see the way those three would relax just from being in the vicinity of each other, quietly drinking their hot chocolate from their mugs.

Noticing that Kadaj was still downcast from his previous nightmare, Loz and Yazoo tried their best to cheer him up; making small talk, bickering, and bumping shoulders in such a way that made Cloud sometimes forget that they were killing machines. It gave him mental whiplash from time to time.

Those three were walking contradictions. They had senses of humor and ran around and pulled pranks just like normal teenagers would, but they were still dangerous and sadistic at heart. Society saw this and rejected them, but they never rejected each other. They were called monsters and devils and larvae, but at the end of the day, they were brothers. That was all that mattered to them. Nobody else’s opinion made a dent on their bond. 

A small part of Cloud admired that.

Cloud looked out the window to see that the sky was slowly getting brighter as the sun began to peek over the horizon. He hadn’t been planning on staying up for the whole night, but it seemed he had no choice in the matter. Finishing off his hot chocolate, he sighed and took the three other empty mugs that were previously placed on the table and put them next to the sink.

He gave a short glance at the triplets over his shoulder and then looked at the clock. 4am. They definitely weren’t supposed to be up this late, but Kadaj’s nightmare was a setback. Even then, if Cloud didn’t want to get another scolding from Tifa for being a bad parent, then--

“Alright you three, scram and pretend you’re still asleep,” Cloud instructed. “I don’t wanna see you back down here ‘till eight.”

 With cheeky grins and a mock ‘sir yes sir!’ from Kadaj, the three scrambled from the couch, nearly tripping over each other as they speedily (but silently, bless their stealth skills) jogged up the stairs and back into their room.

Cloud watched them go with an exasperated but fond shake of his head before moving on to pretend like he hadn’t stayed up the whole night.

Chapter Text

Yazoo was injured.

Yazoo was injured, and he was going to hate every damned second of it.

It wasn’t the injury itself that was the problem. It was superficial, just a thin cut running diagonally down his front. He’d had worse injuries before. Broken legs. Bruised ribs. Entire limbs mangled beyond recognition, but healing and mending back into its original shape thanks to the traits he inherited from Jenova. No, it wasn’t the cut that was the problem. Not at all.

It was the dealing with the cut that he hated.

Because of the placement of the wound, and just the sheer size of it, Yazoo wouldn’t be able to just wrap a bandage around it and call it a day. No. He had to take off his beloved coat and get someone else to take care of it for him. That someone being Cloud. Someone he had never showed his bare skin to.

Just the thought of it made him sick, anxiety clawing at his stomach to the point where there were tiny stabs of pain in his abdomen. He hated showing any bare skin that wasn’t his face to anybody. Not even his own brothers, as much as he trusted them. 

Every time his skin was exposed to open air, it felt like he was being watched. That people were observing him with scrutinizing gazes, as if trying to evaluate him on something. On his very existence, maybe, but he wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew was that a looming dread of something always hung over him. He loathed every second of it, that cold, exposed feeling, like he was Alone, in that white room, and he was getting closer with a needle in hand--

Yazoo shook his head, blinking rapidly. He wasn’t in that room. He was in his own room, sitting on his own bed with his own clothes, and his own little collection of books that he had neatly stacked on a shelf in alphabetical order. Not in that cold, dead, white-walled room that kept showing up in his dreams, where everybody judged him and nothing was safe. 

There was a knock on the door, piercing through the silence. Yazoo made a vague hum of granted permission, fiddling with the zipper of his coat. Thanks to the piece of rusty shrapnel that caused the injury in the first place, the coat was torn cleanly through its center, so he wouldn’t be able to wear it again until he got a replacement.

Cloud walked in, of course, a small box of medical supplies in hand. Normally, he would’ve just used a cure materia to do the job, but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t infected before sealing it up. He placed it down on the bed next to Yazoo slowly and carefully to not startle him. “You ready?”

Not saying a word, Yazoo nodded. He then took a deep breath, trying to quell the uneasiness in his stomach before reaching up and practically tearing his coat off. It was better to get it done and over with as fast as possible. He avoided making eye contact with Cloud as much as possible as he leaned back onto his bed, ignoring the cold pins-and-needles feeling that covered his skin like an uncomfortable blanket. 

Cloud leaned over him with something in his hand that Yazoo didn’t care about because he was too busy keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling to notice. Just as Cloud was about to press down on the wound, Yazoo tensed up, every muscle in his body constricting at the feeling of something brushing against his skin. It was a feather-light touch, but it stung like a bitch, for a lack of a better term.

“Yazoo, listen to me,” Cloud said, gaining his attention. “I’m not going to touch you anywhere I don’t have to. I’m just gonna clean you up, and then I’m done.”

Yazoo swallowed a thick lump in his throat. He knew. Of course he knew. Somebody told him. Probably one of his brothers. Ignoring the sting of betrayal, Yazoo nodded, allowing his muscles to relax and forcing them to stay that way, even as Cloud gently lowered the thing--a wet cloth, he now realized--on the edges of the wound.

There was a stretch of silence as Cloud worked, cool wet cloth sliding over his skin as he cleaned up the blood around the wound. It didn’t hurt, not nearly as much as he thought it would, but every touch made his skin slightly jump with sour anticipation.

“Kadaj told you, didn’t he?” Yazoo said, his voice dripping with more venom than he intended. “About my… Thing.”

“Don’t be mad at him,” Cloud said, not breaking away from his work. “He’s just worried about you. Wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Can you really blame him for looking out for you?”

Well, when he put it like that, Yazoo supposed he couldn’t. He gave a nonchalant hum in response.

And then everything stung.

Cloud must’ve slipped with the cloth, because one touch caused radiant pain to jolt across his chest, making him audibly suck in a breath and tense his entire body again. He tried not to panic as that pins-and-needles feeling worsened, his stomach churning with looming anxiety and stress.

“You’re okay,” Cloud reassured, his voice cutting through the ringing in his ears. “You’re alright. Breathe. In and out-- That’s it. Good.”

Cloud waited by Yazoo’s side as he calmed down, waiting patiently and not even getting close to him, only watching his chest rise and fall with those deep, labored breaths. “You’re okay, Yaz. Take your time. Just tell me when you’re ready to keep going.”

Yazoo nodded and closed his mouth, continuing to breathe through his nose. The buzzing feeling started to ebb out of his skin, but his heartbeat still thrummed in his ears, making his head hurt and the edges of his vision begin to blur. He clung to the sheets of his bed and squeezed, enough to the point where he swore he could hear a rip.

“Do you need help?” Cloud asked, leaning just ever so slightly forward, slowly telegraphing all of his movements to not startle Yazoo.

“Maybe,” Yazoo answered, his voice lost in his breath. He swallowed the cotton in his mouth, changed his mind, and tried again. “...Yes.”

“Try and talk about something. List something in a category, like…” Cloud looked around the room, searching for something to talk about. His eyes landed on the bookcase on the far wall. “Tell me about the books you have.”

“Oh, well, um…” Yazoo racked his brain to try and remember. “There’s a lot of books about astrology and constellations. There’s also a few about tarot readings. I think there’s a stack of tarot cards up there somewhere, actually.”

“Name as many cards as you can remember off the top of your head.”

“The Empress, The Emperor, The Hanged Man, The Fool, Death, Strength, The Sun, The Moon, and… The Star. That one’s my favorite.”

Cloud smiled at him. “You look like you’re doing a lot better now. Wanna keep going?”

Huh. Yazoo took a second to realize that he did feel better. The pounding in his head was gone, and the tingling feeling on his skin had ebbed away to nothing. He sighed and let go of the bed sheets, the joints in his fingers aching from the release.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Cloud nodded in confirmation, slowly moving forward to continue working. Comfortable silence fell over them as he kept going, being extra careful to not repeat what happened before. The brush of cloth against his skin still sent little jolts through his nerves, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before.

“If it helps you feel better, I totally understand how you feel,” Cloud said quietly.

“...How?” Yazoo asked hesitantly. Cloud usually wasn’t one to talk about himself.

“There was… Something that happened in the past, a long time before you were born,” Cloud explained. “A bunch of terrible people did terrible things to me, like touching me without asking, and doing things to me that I didn’t want.”

Yazoo wasn’t a child. He may have been naive at times, but he knew what “unethical” treatment was when he heard it.

“It’s why I never go to the doctors anymore,” Cloud chuckled. “I’m terrified of needles.”

“But… You don’t seem to have a problem with showing your skin,” Yazoo said, glancing towards his lack of sleeves.

“We had different experiences,” Cloud shrugged. “Mine didn’t really make me think about my skin showing that much. Yours did. And that’s completely okay. Everybody responds differently to stuff like that.”

Yazoo wished he could explain just what he experienced, but he couldn’t, because he didn’t know . The fear of showing his skin had been deep-rooted into his being since he was born in the North Crater. The only hint he had were those images of the white-walled rooms and that strange man in the white coat that kept showing up in his dreams.

“I don’t know why I feel this way, though,” Yazoo said, frustration seeping through his voice. “I was just… I’ve always hated it. I can never take my clothes off around other people because I feel so… Vulnerable. And scared. And it just makes me think of these white rooms and people in lab coats, even though I’ve never even been in a room like that before.”

Cloud took a deep, thoughtful breath, his lips pressed in a thin line in contemplation. 

“I don’t know why either, Yaz. I’m sorry.”

Something about the way he said that made Yazoo suspect that he was lying, but he had no real evidence to go off of other than a gut feeling, so he didn’t press him for it. Not when he was too busy focusing on not tensing up again from the light brushes of the cloth.

Before long, the wound was fully cleaned. Cloud had to use an antiseptic in some spots, which stung a little, but it didn’t hurt as much when Yazoo was actually prepared for it. After that, he flicked a Cure at him to let the actual flesh of his skin bound itself back together, leaving only a thin pink line where the cut used to be.

When Yazoo sat up on the bed, a bundle of black cloth was dropped into his lap. He unraveled it to discover it was a shirt, which he put on as quickly as possible while Cloud was busy cleaning up the first aid kit. It was woven out of a soft fabric, fitting around his tall and lanky form perfectly, the turtleneck reaching up high and the sleeves long enough to cover the palms of his hands. It was comfortable and safe and perfect.

Now that he was fully clothed again, the remaining tension faded out of his system, his shoulders slumping and his breaths finally beginning to even out. The looming feeling of anxiety and stress he felt before was becoming just a memory.

“Thank you, for, um- helping me,” Yazoo said to Cloud. “And. Listening.”

Gaia, he was bad at this.

Cloud gave him a brief smile and a nod. “Of course. If you ever need to get anything off your chest, just let me know. I might not give the best advice, but I can listen.”

Luckily, listening was all he needed. Yazoo nodded, and with that cue, Cloud took his leave, closing the door behind him. Meanwhile, Yazoo waited a little longer to fully shake off the pins-and-needles feeling before deciding to get up and actually be productive.

When he pushed the door open, he was immediately enveloped in the strong arms of his twin brother, crushing his face into the other’s collarbone. He felt another smaller weight pressing against his back, arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, securely and protectively.

“I’m fine, guys,” Yazoo reassured, snaking an arm around to pat the top of Loz’s head.

“You sure?” Loz asked, looking at him with those big glistening puppy-dog eyes that he knew nobody could resist.

“I’m sure.” He turned around to face Kadaj, who had let go of him and was now staring up at him with a look that he only had when he was really stressed about something.

“I’m really sorry for telling Cloud about the thing,” Kadaj rambled, speaking so fast that Yazoo just barely understood what he said. “I was just really worried because I know you hate it--”

“Kadaj--”

“--And I didn’t want him to not know and then make you uncomfortable but I also knew you didn’t wanna tell him--”

“ Kadaj--”

“--So I was really anxious about it and he asked me and I just kinda blurted it out and I’m so sorry --”

Yazoo placed his hands on Kadaj’s shoulders. “Kadaj.”

Kadaj’s mouth closed in an instant. His eyes were widened, his pupils barely visible against the sea of acid green, a mix of fear and craze. Yazoo tilted his head. “I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” Kadaj asked, his voice raising with hope.

“No. You did the right thing,” Yazoo said.

Kadaj visibly slumped in relief, a sigh of similar stature escaping his lips as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Yazoo. “Oh, thank Gaia. I thought you were gonna pulverize me.”

A rather unflattering snort escaped Yazoo as he pulled away from the short hug. “No, that’s Loz’s job. I shoot things.”

Kadaj’s jaw dropped open in offense as he spluttered indignantly. “You know what I meant!” He protested, bringing his hand up to gently slap Yazoo’s shoulder in retaliation.

Grinning, Yazoo danced away from his brother’s hand, stumbling into Loz and causing them both to topple into the wall. Not wasting a moment, Yazoo immediately scrambled to his feet once more, racing down the hallway and practically leaping down the stairs, the sounds of his brother’s footsteps and shouts following soon after. 

Behind the bar of Seventh Heaven, Tifa watched fondly as the triplets raced through the room and took their impromptu game of tag outside, their laughs audible even through the closed windows.