The pot of happiness of a town was brimmed in waves of euphoria. The prodigal son had returned home and he was the man he set out to be. Bruised in the heart, battered in his smile, a solemn young lad was the product of a rigorous regime. Or at least that was what Cloud thought.
He carried his gunnysack and buster sword and had setted out for the home that he left behind years ago.
Years ago, he was told that being a soldier was like being a puppet of Shin-ra. he was told it wasn't true that Soldiers were honourable as they should be. His old man, normally a jovial man, angered him with a serious tone and this quote and he never talked to him for the following days that passed before time and mutual love washed away their enmity. But now, Cloud was the man the old man didn't envision. He was the pride of many. The old man was wrong.
Cloud remembered happy times in the town, sharing time with his guardian, Yuhuan, doing the laundry and watching puppet plays and old man who took him to everywhere to visit even though he wasn't like them. He was no longer angry with the old man but still didn't understand why he would hate the idea of being in the military so much.
Cloud had since forgotten much about Midgar, about the atrocities that occurred and the name Sephiroth was far from his mind. However, avoidance was never the answer. Sephiroth had struck again.
The town that laid before Cloud was no longer that of a jovial one, but of a dead one. Nothing stirred in this wasteland of red. The usual laughter was gone and no one was alive. It was a dead town. Happiness seemed so far away.
Cloud, confused as he was shocked, didn't know the culprit of this massacre. Pangs of sickness wrenched his stomach and uncontrollable tears started to well up his eyes as he lost control of his legs and fell on his knees. Losing control in a bitter wasteland was the only solace that accompanied him. His life, his past were all erased in a moment's madness by a man. Sephiroth.
He looked around and a sense of familiarity struck him in the mind. A piercing pain engulfed his enclosed mind and he was made to scream and howl in agony as hard facts were forced back into his thoughts as if coerced by an unknown force. Flashes of past memories of trees, branches, smell of the old oak came to his consciousness and he could see a white light ahead in an imagined world that seemed to bear answers to all his agony and pain. It was a blurry sight and he strained to get a clean look at the white light but it was not defined as most things were. Everything started spinning around in a whirl and he felt the ground beneath him open up and he fell continuously into a black hole. Suddenly, he woke up and he was on the ground, with a bad migraine and a nightmarish sight that didn't disappear even after a moment's unconsciousness. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes as he got up to his feet and walked shaking all over towards the battered place. The houses were destroyed in a fiery storm of emotions and what's left were messed up corpses and remnants of glass doors or shards and wooden pulps that were furniture.
Revenge was the blood that was spilled and it was all on the ground.