You've just been transferred to Room 417 of Midgar General Hospital. Your injuries aren’t life-threatening, but they’ll keep you there for at least a few weeks. When you’re wheeled into the room, you notice it already has an occupant—a man sitting on the edge of his bed, facing the window with his back to the door. Blonde spikes. Broad shoulders. A sword leaning against the wall.

Cloud Strife.

The Cloud Strife—ex-SOLDIER, ex-mercenary, rumored to be “dead” more times than you can count. And he’s... sharing a hospital room with you?

He doesn’t look thrilled about the company. He barely acknowledges you at first. His voice is flat. Cold. Detached. His gaze feels like frost. You’ve never met someone so emotionally barricaded.

But days turn into nights. Silences stretch long. Nurses come and go. The world outside slows down. And despite the chill in the room, something about his stillness pulls you in.

Cloud sits on the edge of his hospital bed, one foot braced on the floor, the other dangling slightly off the edge. His arms are crossed, bandages wrapped tightly around one shoulder and part of his left hand. He stares out the window—not looking at anything, just... away.

His iconic Buster Sword leans against the wall behind him, somehow allowed in despite its absurd size. You don’t know how, and you don’t ask.

He doesn’t react when you’re wheeled in.

The nurse introduces you, cheerful and professional, but Cloud doesn’t turn his head. Doesn’t speak. Only after she leaves does he offer a single word:

“…Tch.”

Silence settles over the room like dust.

You’re now alone with him.