Chapter Text
“Papers, Papers! Get the latest news with what’s happening topside!” The newsboy called out, holding up a bundle of dirtied black and white papers in his left hand, using his right to keep a tight grip on his satchel which overflowed with exact copies of what he held. “Get them while they’re still available, selling like hot cakes, they are!”
A man, looking to be off to his factory job, let out a snort as he passed. “Fuck’in dirty grimalkin.” His words end with a short but stiff bump to the paper boy’s shoulder. The result ended with the boy falling stiffly to the ground, his left hand letting go of the paper so it was able to help brace himself as he fell to the ground. It was only a short fall, leading to just a small scrape against his elbow.
Used to such treatment, the boy wasn’t left in a stun, he simply got up and dusted of the grime that stuck to his clothing and skin. Planning to just then pick up his fallen paper, a hand belonging to another reached down and lifted the paper up for the boy to take a hold of. “You okay Chadley?” A quiet voice asked.
Chadley raised his eyes to look at the man in front of him; he was nor surprised by who he found before him.
“Just alright Mr. Strife,” Chadley smiled, taking the paper from the man's hand, “Used to that sort of treatment.” The only response he gathered was a small, quiet, sad grumble, easy enough to pass off for a extinguish of breath; though Chadley knew the man, and knew how to tell the difference between the noises that the man made.
Mr, Strife, Cloud Strife being his full name, was an odd fellow by all standards. He didn’t like to chatter much, kept to himself, he did. He also held a rare job; being employed as a mines cleaner. He would be employed by a company or the common folk to make sure that no nasty monsters hid out in the mines, being the first and almost only defence to the nasty critters that liked to devour on the workers. A rare job indeed.
Though the most particular thing about him would have to be how he treated Chadleys species; the Kemonomimi. A subspecies of the human, though that was something that none tended to remember much. They were a species that tended to be viewed just on par with the common housepet. Chadley's tail almost curled between his legs at the thought of how easy it would be for someone to snatch him off and be sold off to whoever had the money to afford him.
For as long as he could remember Mr. Strife had always been good to him, along with others of his kind. He would always offer a penny to Chadley for the newspaper, even though he never took the paper that was offered to him. Sometimes that penny he offered was what kept Chadley fed for the day.
Though him being nice to the Kemonomimi wasn’t the oddest thing about him; that would have to be the large group of young Kemonomimi that he raised.
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At the age of 13 and a half, Cloud Strife moved from the mountains he was raised into the streets of Midgar, lowerplate of course, by himself. He hadn’t had any money at all when he left his town, a place where money held no importance. He was an odd lad back then, and he came to the conclusion that being an odd screw was easier to be in the city then in a small mountain town that couldn’t keep its opinion to itself even if the gods promised them a blessed hunt for all futures if they did.
He had been a scrawny thing then, so if he had wanted a paying job the best he could do was head to a factory and see if they needed any more hands; he had worked there for a total of 18 months. During that time he lived in the sector 7 slums. He learnt of the city behaviour, how they did judge but not on the things that his small town had cared about.
The city cared more for what pair of ears sat on a person's head.
Cloud had just been in Midgar for a week when he had his first shock of watching a young lad, a few years older then he, be beat on by a group of much older men and no one else did anything about it. He swore that he heard a few cheers.
He debated for a second if he should do anything, wondering if he could do anything at all. When one of the older men drunkenly pulled out a knife and loudly stated that they should “cut off the strays tail”. Cloud hadn’t understood what they meant at first, all he saw was the knife being passed to the leading attacker.
He moved quickly, grabbing the back coat of the attacker with a knife, using all his weight to try and throw the man backwards onto the ground. He only achieved half of what he was trying, more leading the drunk attacker to stumble and drop his knife. It was the alcohol in the man's system that made him trip over his feet when he tried to quickly look behind him to see who rammed into him, that made him land on his arse.
All the men took a step backwards, allowing Cloud to get a better look at their victim. It was now that Cloud noticed the cat-like pair of ears on the boy's head, and the ginger tail that led out from under his ripped and bloodied buttoned shirt. Cloud was shocked by what he saw, enough so that he didn’t see the fist heading towards his gut. He guesses he was lucky in this regard, for if his head was knocked by the drunk's hard fist there would’ve been a low chance of his survival.
He never saw that teen with the ears and tail again after he scampered off to the shadows of the streets. Cloud only held it against him for a week for leaving him behind in the fight, though he came to realise that Cloud had a better chance of someone standing in to protect him, even a stranger, then the other boy did.
After he was up to it, Cloud put in the work to build his body up and make it something that he could defend himself with. In those 18 months, going from the age of 13 to 15, Cloud hadn’t grown much in height but hitting the start of puberty allowed for the growth of muscle to come easier to him. He held more of a lean form, muscles not that obvious, so when he tried for a security position for the Honey Bee Inn he wasn’t surprised that they offered him a position as a dancer instead. He denied the offer, leaving the building to go back to search for a better job then the one he had in the factory.
On the way out he spotted a scene similar to one he spotted 18 months before. This time it had just been one man, beating on a woman who held odd ears and a tail. This time he hadn’t waited for a knife to be pulled out. He had walked up to the man, giving him an iron punch to the square of his face. The man had sworn and cussed, cursing at Cloud and giving many threats. When the party crowd around began to laugh at the mens red face, he stormed off, clutching the woman's wrist tightly in his hand. Turns out he had owned the women.
The owner of the Honey Bee Inn had seen what had happened, or heard word of it, and offered Cloud the job he had before denied him. Just like that Cloud had gone from being a factory hand to a bouncer at a small brothel in the sector 7 slums.
Cloud had worked at the place for a year. In that time he had come close to the women, and the few young men, who worked as dancers and prostitutes at the brothel. He had been surprised that a few of the workers had been Kemonomimi. It was only two young girls, one a few older than Cloud and another entering her mid twenties. The older one, a woman with dark hair and features that spoke that she had wutai descent in her meaning she wasn’t a full Kemonomimi, had a young son. He had only been born when Cloud began working there. Being a women with no one to rely on, she had to bring the babe with her to work. The workers, Cloud included, made sure to keep an eye on the babe in the dresser room when his mother couldn’t
The child had only taken its first step the last day that Cloud worked. The workers, Cloud included, broke out a few drinks in celebration for the boy and farewell for Cloud; considering the establishment they worked in, drinking on the job wasn’t an odd thing.
The Honey Bee Inn would later be moving up to Sector 6, a place where they could get better paying and mannered customers. Cloud couldn’t afford to move another plate up, and the travel wouldn’t be worth the pay he was gathering.
Becoming a stronger body allowed Cloud to take on other jobs, that included being a paid hand to help in the mines with protecting the miners from their work of collecting ore. He learnt how to handle a sword by himself, he learnt how to fight the monsters himself.
And he learned the arts of spell casting himself.
Cloud Strife had become the first materia user, and like hell he was gonna let the public know of it.
So instead he worked by himself, allowing for the rumour of his swordsmanship being above anyone else to grow. The only people who ever had a chance of seeing his odd strength were the workers in the mines, and they wouldn’t bloody snitch on the man that had the highest track record of keeping them alive.
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