‘Y’know, Cloud,’ Denzel said, calling over the roar of the wind, ‘it’s days like this that make it awesome to be alive. Don’t you reckon?’ As if to highlight the point, Denzel yanked his bike into a short wheelie.

‘Hm,’ Cloud replied.

‘Oh, come on! Look, the sun, the sky, the breeze, the open road…c’mon, you can see it, right? Right?’

‘I’ll agree if you’ll shut up.’

‘I will. Agree.’

‘Fine, I agree.’

‘That’s better. So? I was right.’ The pair fell silent as they banked their motorcycles into a curve, winding their way around a stand of gnarled trees, spraying a screen of brown dust into the parched air. The young teen grinned as he found himself on the inner curve, and he used it to pull a little in front of his friend and mentor.

‘This isn’t a race, you know,’ Cloud called, and then coughed as he received a faceful of Denzel’s dust. He’d probably have been blinded, too, had he not been wearing a pair of goggles that had stopped bullets in their prime.

‘I guess you’re right.’ Denzel pulled a little to the side and slipped back in line with Cloud, so they rode side-by-side again. ‘I can’t see you when I’m in front, anyway.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘Of course. It’s tragic. An icy dagger of coldness straight to my heart. I’ve been spending time with Barret, can you tell?’

‘Clear as a golden, shiny wire of hope,’ Cloud deadpanned.

‘What? He actually said that? That one must’ve hurt.’

They fell into companionable silence again, listening to the thrum of the bikes beneath them and the sound of the wind whistling in their ears. Denzel basked in the freedom that Shin-Ra’s demise had let flood into the world. Here he was after all, barely into his teens, riding a motorcycle through the countryside and girt with a sword he knew how to use. He closed his eyes, confident in the straight road and his own refined reflexes, focusing on the feeling of the wind in his face and through his hair…

…which wasn’t to say he was making light of his work. His mind soon turned to the important cargo he carried; vials full of the healing water that now resided in the church, still clear and pure despite the years it had sat sparkling there. People the world over still needed this cure. Those crippled by Geostigma could not reach it themselves, and their friends and relatives would likely be killed trying to brave the hostile countryside, full as it was of monsters and bandits. So it had fallen to them to bring hope to this new world as it struggled to find its feet.

‘Reeve and Johnny didn’t get it totally right, you know,’ Denzel finally said, his eyes opening and fixing on the endless brown road ahead. Cloud spared a curious glance at him.

‘What?’

‘Reeve and Johnny. They said to me once that the people who could ease pain were important now, not the ones with the guns and swords, and that kids should keep the adults motivated, not fight.’

‘Hm.’

‘Yeah, well, like I said, right and wrong. If we weren’t running around with guns and swords, we couldn’t ease pain. Ironic, huh?’

Cloud frowned. What had brought this on? Sure, Denzel had often been lost in thought in his younger years (thanks in no small part to the traumas he’d been put through), but it was a habit that had died out over time as the young man found his place in the world.

‘But you see,’ Denzel continued, ‘if you hadn’t been in the army and all that, you wouldn’t have been able to teach me all the stuff you did, and if you didn’t teach me all the stuff you did, I couldn’t have helped people. I think Reeve was wrong to rule certain people out like that. ‘Cause in the end, even something as evil as Shin-Ra’s army can help repair the world. Funny, huh? Life’s so full of random stuff like that.’

‘What’re you trying to say?’

‘What’s your reason for carrying on, Cloud?’

This question caught Cloud off-guard, but still he answered without hesitation.

‘To protect what’s important.’

Denzel nodded. ‘Mine too. The way I figure it, you have to think of strangers as people, just like your friends. You have to pretend you know them, and think of their lives and all that, like they’re not just 2D people in the background. ‘Cause when you think about it, strangers are just people who might be your friends someday.’ Denzel took his eyes from the road and stared long at Cloud. ‘You were no different after all. One day I didn’t know you, and then a couple of chance coincidences later, BOOM, there we are, friends, for life, I hope.’

Cloud didn’t reply, partially because he’d been shaken by the apparent thought Denzel had put into all this. Most of all, though, Cloud was surprised at how Denzel’s musings seemed to be giving shape to his own subconscious thoughts. He would have missed having Denzel in his life, and to think that the chances that had brought them together had been so fragile…

Hadn’t he told Sephiroth, after all, that there was nothing on the Planet that he didn’t find important? Here was a case in point.

Cloud’s thoughts turned to his own past, searching for the reasons he’d once lived by. They were few, back in the youth he spent in Nibelheim. But he’d joined the army to try and make up for his weaknesses. It was a reason, but it was one that could only bring pain to others in the long-run. Perhaps the drive to find a reason was simply too strong, too ingrained in the human mind. Perhaps, then, it was a sign of the changing world that Denzel had been trained as a savior where Cloud, at nigh the same age, had left to train as a killer.

Finally they slowed as they drew to a split in the dry road, and a faded sign failed to declare which way the diverging routes led. But Denzel and Cloud already knew, and they prepared to part ways, coming to a stop to say goodbye. Cloud removed his goggles and looked into the sky, reading it as mid-afternoon. Finally he lowered his gaze, and his heart skipped as he found Denzel staring at him.

‘It’s so scary to think, if I hadn’t met you, I couldn’t even have noticed it. I’d never have known what I was missing.’ Cloud simply matched his gaze but stayed silent.

‘Cloud, whatever happens now, I want you to know I’m so glad I met you. Even if some bad guy turns up tomorrow and tears the world apart, or even if I just end up crashing and dying or something, I’d be satisfied knowing I had a chance to be your friend.’

‘Denzel, don’t…’

‘Heh, don’t worry. I know this sounds weird, but it’s just something I had to say. I don’t want to regret not having said something later, you know?’

That sentiment struck a deep chord within Cloud, and he found himself unable to hold Denzel’s gaze, instead diverting it to the dry grass by the roadside. His thoughts turned to Zack; a friend even in his time of shame and failure, and even when it seemed he’d never be himself again—but gone before Cloud could ever offer his thanks. More than once he’d stood at the grave marked by Zack’s old sword and expressed his gratitude aloud, but to no reply.

Suddenly, without having detected a thing, Cloud felt something soft press against his cheek. By the time Cloud could turn his head at the sensation, Denzel had remounted his bike, licking his lips and wiping them. Cloud simply stared, nonplussed. Denzel had…what, pecked him on the cheek? His brain shorted out and made a strange crackling noise at the thought, even as his insides coiled themselves into an intricate weave.

‘Just a little something toward my purpose,’ Denzel said by way of explanation. ‘Motivating the grown-ups and all that.’ He grinned impishly as he revved his bike, winking at the speechless Cloud, and spun his bike in a donut to align himself with his new route.

‘We can talk more later,’ Denzel added, facing away. ‘I…I think I still have some things left to say.’

And with that, he accelerated away. Cloud watched him go, his eyes glued to the retreating bike, until only billowing dust marked the boy’s passing. Even then, Cloud’s eyes remained on the clouds as they settled. Finally he adjusted his goggles, and mimicked Denzel’s actions, turning his bike toward his own path, facing in the opposite direction. He revved his bike once, twice, and let if fall silent.

‘Yeah, me too,’ he muttered, and pulled away.