[cloud isn't sure he wants to fight sephiroth, not like this. there is still suspicion and hatred boiling beneath the surface—except that something is different now, a molecular, tinny push outside the edges of reason that made sense.]

[the hand on the hilt stays where it is, but uncertain and without drive.]

It won't.

[he concedes, falters a moment, then grapples again for the right words.]

What I fought was a monster, not your mother. [ah—] I've killed you once before. With my own hands. You're still flesh and blood, no matter what Hojo would have you believe. I may not know him like you do, but we all know the shit that goes on in Shinra behind closed doors.

If you let that be your truth, then you're not your own man at all.