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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr=class,lyric1]infinite in mystery is the gift of
[attr=class,lyric2]the goddess
[attr=class,bulk] Genesis wouldn’t say that he had been avoiding the apartment necessarily, but he certainly hadn’t made many appearances lately. Really, he’d been looking for any excuse to sleep somewhere else ever since Angeal had kicked in the door with a mortally wounded Sephiroth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his best friend—far from it—but what did you say to someone who had returned from the dead? Particularly when Angeal had wanted it. Maybe he didn’t even want to be alive again, and that was a hard thought to swallow with everything that had come after. Everyone was so much worse without Angeal in their lives.
Normally Genesis would have liked being the one who remembered the most, but not in this case. He didn’t want to have to tell Sephiroth that he’d completely lost it over being more monster than man and burned down a town. For that matter, he didn’t really want to have to tell Angeal that Genesis himself had built a twisted tribute to Loveless underneath their childhood home, made Zack run through it like a rat in a maze, and then attacked him to try to cure his degradation. In hindsight, perhaps those hadn’t been the sanest four years of his life. But it had worked. The goddess had healed him. He just wasn’t looking forward to rehashing the details with Angeal and having to see that disappointed face.
Ugh. Having a conscience now was the literal worst.
Since Genesis had been avoiding the apartment, Sephiroth and Angeal may have been a bit surprised one clear spring morning when he came bursting through the door at dawn. He wasn’t usually a morning person. “When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end, the goddess descends from the sky,” he announced to no one in particular as he slammed a bag of groceries down on the table. One or two dark red apples came spilling out, but he was in too much of a manic mood to notice. “Both of you get out here! I’m making apple juice and we’re going to Sonora.”
Digging through the pockets of his red leather coat, he slammed a brochure down on the table next to the stray apples. It was an advertisement for the Meltwater Springs up in the mountains of Sonora. It truly did look relaxing, and Genesis was forever ready for a spiritual experience. Privately he wondered if the springs could heal friendships on top of ailments.
“Both of you are depressing me, so we’re taking a trip.”
[attr=class,bulk] The morning had been a silent one. Sephiroth had woken before dawn as always, dressed, combed out the tangles in his hair, and then taken to silent meditation. He listened to the chirping of the birds outside his window and tried to classify their calls. It was spring – mating season – and they were particularly vocal at this hour. He sat with his legs crossed on the worn, patchwork carpet, letting his thoughts come and go like the cool breeze that fluttered the budding flower petals on the Provoan trees. He controlled his breathing like he controlled himself, and at exactly six am, he rose to his feet and started towards the kitchen.
They had enough money for coffee this month, and he had taken great care in selecting the foreign blends from the local cafe. In the end, he had chosen a dark roast with hints of a particular nut harvested in the forests of Kahiko Valley. In another life, the ShinRa doctors had warned him against the potential harm to his performance. Hojo had been disgusted with what he called Sephiroth’s caffeine addiction and had assaulted him with charts of data comparing his long-term endurance tests with and without the drug. Still, Sephiroth had kept this one indulgence to himself. Every morning, he would have his single cup of coffee if it was available or two cups of tea if it wasn’t. On the battlefield where supplies were often low, he would need an extra hour of meditation to calm his nerves.
He prepared the coffee grounds, taking a moment to appreciate their dark aroma. He set the water to boil. And then he heard a key in the lock of the front door.
Sephiroth turned his head just enough to see if it was an assassin or a friend.
It was Genesis.
The door burst open with enough force to send it ricocheting off the opposite wall as the SOLDIER came staggering in, quoting poetry in greeting as he dropped something on the table with a heavy thud. Sephiroth returned to his coffee. It was still a strange sensation – sharing an apartment even with his closest friends. He had always considered his space to be sacred. Genesis considered it neutral ground.
”Angeal isn’t up yet,” he said simply. He didn’t know why he said it, only that he needed to say something, even a self-evident something. If Angeal hadn’t woken before, he had no doubts that the sound of the door would have had him upright and grabbing for his sword. Genesis’ voice, likewise, was not meant to be missed.
Once the stove burner was lit, Sephiroth turned to see Genesis, fully clothed in his red coat with a crazed look in his eyes. On the table was a brown paper bag full to bursting with apples. A pamphlet of some kind was pressed under Genesis’ gloved hand.
Sephiroth blinked twice in surprise. His eyes flicked from Genesis to the pamphlet to the apples and then back to Genesis again.
”A trip,” he repeated without intonation. He had no idea what Genesis had been doing for the last month. He’d been more or less missing since the day of Sephiroth’s defeat at the hands of the feral SOLDIER. His wound still ached if he stretched in the wrong way, reminding him of his failure. Was that why Genesis had become so distant? Because he had saved Sephiroth’s life? Sephiroth was never one to let his fears or emotions show, yet still he couldn’t stop himself from questioning…
While Genesis had been gone, Sephiroth had fended off encounters from apparent enemies who claimed to know him. He had heard the same names over and again. Cloud. Jenova. He had always known that Genesis was hiding something, yet he had always feared to ask…
[attr=class,lyric1]infinite in mystery is the gift of
[attr=class,lyric2]the goddess
[attr=class,bulk] Sephiroth was making his morning coffee when Genesis burst in, and he looked entirely unimpressed by the big trip announcement. He did at least inform him that Angeal wasn’t awake yet though, so the red-haired SOLDIER huffed and briefly abandoned his bag of apples in favor of marching towards his best friend’s door. To his credit, he didn’t even hesitate outside of it, though he deeply wanted to. It had been close to a month since the pair had seen each other, after all. But instead of wasting time, he burst inside Angeal’s room, finding himself disappointed by the sight of an empty, neatly made bed.
“Apparently he isn’t here at all,” Genesis complained to Sephiroth as he returned to the kitchen. “Why is it that I can’t get rid of either of you except when I actually need you?” With that, he flopped down in a chair and draped himself around it like he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Which he hadn’t actually. Too many plans.
“Can I have a cup?” He tried to wheedle out of Sephiroth. The man was making coffee anyway, so he didn’t see that an extra mug would be much work. “With like. A lot of cream.” The silver-haired man was likely to take it black because he was ridiculous and the picture of manhood or something. That was fine. Genesis had nothing to compensate for unlike some people.
Sephiroth finally deigned to ask what he was talking about, and Genesis slowly oozed downwards until his chin was resting on his hands on the table. Trust Angeal to ruin his plans. “I wanted to take you both to the Meltwater Springs in Sonora. It’s supposed to be a lovely resort with a hotspring. But apparently it’s just us today…”
Not that they couldn’t go with just the two of them, but Genesis was still disappointed. He’d had a vision and he didn’t like last minute changes to his sudden impulses.
“My friend, do you fly away now? To a world that abhors you and I? All that awaits you is a somber morrow No matter where the winds may blow.”
[attr=class,bulk] To his surprise, Angeal did not emerge from his room, sword in hand at the possibility of a sudden attack. The reason was made clear enough when Genesis opened their friend’s door without knocking and then returned. He wasn’t there at all. Sephiroth frowned. Angeal hadn’t mentioned a mission, but he supposed that his friend’s more…altruistic mercenary work was unpredictable. He felt something of Genesis’ frustration as his friend fell back into a chair.
’Why is it that I can’t get rid of either of you except when I actually need you?’
Sephiroth was more concerned of the difficulties gathering them all in the same place together. It seemed logistically improbable which meant that there was either discontent or extreme misfortune between them. Sephiroth was inclined to believe the former.
”You have been gone for some time,” he said placidly. Genesis looked exhausted. Sephiroth had no idea why he had returned with a bag of apples. He had less of an idea why he insisted they go on a vacation now of all times. Genesis was, as ever, a being of emotion. An enigma to Sephiroth’s cold calculations and strict sense of order.
Genesis asked for coffee and then slid down his forearms until he was curled over the table, looking suddenly like a dejected cat. Sephiroth felt a tinge of his own unease. He wished that Angeal were here. He would know how to decipher Genesis’ sudden mood swings. Perhaps he would be able to talk sense into him.
”Why…did you want to go to a hot spring?” He heard the hesitance in his voice. It sounded like weakness.
The water whistled where he’d placed it on the stove, and Sephiroth took the opportunity to turn away from him, busying himself instead with the coffee he had promised himself. Genesis had asked for his share. Sephiroth prepared a cup only for himself, but left the rest out in case Genesis deigned to pour a mug on his own. From his verses of poetry, it did not seem likely that Genesis would have the willpower to so much as stand.
Loveless, Act III
Sephiroth sat perched in the chair across from him, holding the soothing warmth of his mug in his hands as he tried to ignore the chaos of the apples spread on the table between them. It was…difficult. Sephiroth longed to place them neatly in the pantry.
”You don’t need coffee,” he said. ”You need sleep.”
[attr=class,lyric1]infinite in mystery is the gift of
[attr=class,lyric2]the goddess
[attr=class,bulk] Sephiroth remarked that Genesis had been gone for a while, and the red-haired SOLDIER idly traced a finger along the table since his head was already down. “Three’s a crowd, so they say.” It hadn’t used to be like that, but maybe they’d never be normal around each other again after everything that had happened. He only managed around Sephiroth sometimes because the general acted like nothing had changed. Or to be more accurate, maybe nothing had changed to him. He certainly didn’t seem to remember even Genesis’ defection. Let alone Angeal’s suicide or his own descent into madness. In a way, Genesis almost envied him.
Sephiroth asked why he had wanted to go on a trip, and for once Genesis was quiet as he settled his chin on his arms and watched his friend pour himself a cup of coffee. Of course he did not get a mug for Genesis like he’d asked, but he found he didn’t have the energy to complain about it. “I thought it would be easier on a trip. Normal…” He didn’t have any snark left to add something on to his comment like he normally did, and he hated how vulnerable that made his voice sound. It didn’t help when Sephiroth evaluated him with a slow glance and pointed out that he needed sleep.
Well no shit.
“How didn’t I think of that? Clearly all my problems are now solved,” he said dramatically, coming back to himself a bit with that small spark of annoyance at his friend. Scowling, he sat up and took one of the apples into both his hands, looking it over broodingly like it was the cause of all his problems. In some ways, perhaps it was.
“You know, I thought I was over both of you. I really did. It’s been four years for me. And it turns out I haven’t moved past anything at all. Did you know that Angeal killed himself because he didn’t want to be a monster like me? And you-...” Genesis broke off, gripping the apple tighter before he decided that he was too exhausted for this. Too exhausted to pretend everything was fine between them.
After a moment, he held the apple up to Sephiroth in a mock offering of how they had faced each other in the Niblheim reactor. “My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess.” He had been so confident that day, toying with his friend’s feelings a bit too much. It was different now. He was just so tired of their reactions to the news that the three of them were the same. Monsters. Just three birds of a feather.
[attr=class,bulk] Sephiroth held his steaming mug of coffee in both hands. He found the warmth pleasant, and though it was still too hot to drink, the dark aroma was somehow soothing on its own. It was a kind olfactory mental association as the scientists of Shinra would have said, but it was calming all the same. He needed that stability if he was going to deal with Genesis while he was in one of his lower moods. Patience was key.
Genesis responded to his suggestion with sarcasm. It seemed unnecessary. If Genesis already knew that he needed sleep then why was it that he’d wanted to take them all across the country instead? Sephiroth refrained from saying so, however, choosing silence instead. There were many aspects of his friend’s behavior that he simply could not understand and perhaps never would. In times past, Angeal had been their translator. He wished he could translate for them now.
Another sweep of emotion seemed to cross his friend as he suddenly found the will to sit straight again, scowling as he took an apple dramatically in both hands. For some reason, he looked almost angry at the fruit as he went on. Sephiroth frowned.
Genesis thought…he’d been over them?
Sephiroth felt a tinge of some unfamiliar emotion cross his heart. It was…an unpleasant sensation. Something like annoyance. Something like anger and grief rolled into one. His lips pursed.
Still, he said nothing.
Genesis wasn’t finished. He implicated Angeal in the man’s suicide. Then he turned his attention once more to Sephiroth before trailing off, the feelings invoked clearly too much for him. Sephiroth watched his friend patiently though he felt his patience waning by the second. Genesis held up the apple as though he expected Sephiroth to take it.
”My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess.”
And there it was. Another sensation though this one was far more familiar. The striking blade of a memory, cloaked in fog and best left forgotten. Sephiroth felt the pain creep into his eyes. He averted them, frowning and confused and wishing for once that he could simply remember.
The memory was causing Genesis pain. Why couldn’t he share it with him?
Genesis had stood before him once, elevated on a set of metal stairs as he held out the same fruit though then it had been the distinct purple color of his native village. He’d quoted his play more earnestly then, not dripping with a mockery born from anguish. And then there was that word…
Monster.
Sephiroth’s grip on his mug tightened. The smell of his coffee was no longer as inviting as it had once been.
Words wanted to come. His very being struggled against them. It was as though something inside of him rejected the notion, perhaps a self-protective survival instinct deep at his core. He didn’t want to know the truth. And yet…
Sephiroth forced his way past his own instincts, past the security of his amnesia, and quietly asked the very question he’d been holding onto since his meetings with forgotten adversaries had gone awry.
[attr=class,lyric1]infinite in mystery is the gift of
[attr=class,lyric2]the goddess
[attr=class,bulk] Sephiroth was quiet for a long time while Genesis felt like he was going to crack with emotion. It was boiling up and pressing at his lips, and he just knew he was going to say something he shouldn’t. Except then his friend softly asked the last question that he had been expecting.
The red-haired SOLDIER stared up at him for a moment, his grip loosening on the apple until it thudded on the kitchen floor and gently rolled away. Genesis didn’t stop to pick it up.
“Oh.” He let out a breath of air through his teeth. “I thought you didn’t remember.” Then again, he had been gone for a bit. Of his own volition, but perhaps some of Sephiroth’s memories had returned to him in that time. Zack had also warned him that some others from Gaia had made their appearance on Zephon lately. Maybe they had done something stupid like poking the sleeping summon that was Sephiroth’s memories.
“What doesn’t have to do with Jenova when it comes to us three?” He asked finally, drawing his legs up into the kitchen chair with him so that he could wrap his arms around them. His wing was stretched uncomfortably tight against his back in this position, but somehow that felt appropriate. It was the part of him that he owed most to Jenova after all. Even just her name was like a suffocating behemoth standing between them.
“Three friends go into battle. One is captured. One flies away. The one that is left becomes a hero.” As Genesis summarized Loveless, he looked up at Sephiroth tiredly. “Angeal certainly flew away, didn’t he?” For once, Loveless didn’t seem like enough for what he was trying to say. Someone more artistically-inclined might have been able to read between the lines, but he had a feeling that Sephiroth would only be annoyed by his roundabout answers. Still, his mood was dour and his mind was running in circles so he couldn’t make himself stop. “I always wanted to be the hero. But in the end, I know what I was.”
The prisoner. And a monster, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the word. Not when it had gone so badly last time.
“I-...” He hesitated, feeling like he wouldn’t be able to take it back once he’d said it. “I knew what part I played then too. The last time we talked. And I took it out on you.”
[attr=class,bulk] At that one word, Genesis’ expression changed. Gone was the tight-lipped anger. The frustration. The mania. In its place was a kind of empty shock. His hands loosened involuntarily, and the apple fell from his grip with a soft thud.
”Oh,” Genesis said when reason seemed to come to him again. ”I thought you didn’t remember.”
Sephiroth’s brow furrowed. Then he had been hiding something. He’d been hiding it since the moment they’d first met in this unnatural new world. He’d known that Sephiroth’s memory was incomplete. He’d known how it had frustrated him, and yet…
Sephiroth watched him carefully, eyes cool and calculating. Genesis was, perhaps, the only one who could give him the story in full, and yet what he said left him with more questions than answers.
”Us…three?” Did he mean the three of them? But what did Angeal or Genesis have to do with this? The way that he had heard it told, Sephiroth’s unnatural state had stemmed from experimentation, and while the thought turned his stomach, he couldn’t call it a complete surprise. He had been raised in Shinra’s laboratories, after all. Whereas Genesis and Angeal…
Had something become of them after the Wutai War? Had Hojo...?
Genesis pulled his knees to his chest, somehow managing to perch on the kitchen chair with his arms wrapped tightly around them. He looked like a child, defensive and scared. Sephiroth felt a sudden rush of anger well inside of him. What had Shinra done to them?
What had they done to his friends?
As always, Genesis answered with Loveless.
This time was different, however. These were no direct quotations, but a summary. Sephiroth knew the play, of course. He knew the poem better than he wanted to admit. Genesis identified them all with the characters of Loveless. At most times, Sephiroth might have found himself irritated with his friend’s delusions, but he could feel nothing now but that anger, beating like a drum within his chest.
His fingers twitched for a sword that was not at his side. He longed to spill blood on their behalf.
Genesis looked vulnerable in a way that he never was. Genesis was often haughty. He was often hot-headed. He used words as a weapon and followed it with his blade. This was not the Genesis he knew so well, and the sight overpowered all else.
”I was no hero,” he muttered because he couldn’t merely ignore something so personal to his friend, no matter how irrelevant it might seem. That name, Jenova, had unlocked something in Genesis that had been long sealed away.
”You and Angeal,” he said slowly, ”Did they…?” But he didn’t know how to find the words. Perhaps because there were no words for what Sephiroth had experienced. Perhaps because he had never told them of his past. It had defined him, molded him to meet Shinra’s every expectation, and yet he found no reason to dwell upon it.
Until now, at least.
”I thought it was only me.” His voice was quiet, hushed like a secret made manifest. ”You came from Banora. So how…?” His chest tightened again. With fear. With rage. With all the thoughts he never allowed himself. With the memories he wished had been purged instead.
[attr=class,lyric1]infinite in mystery is the gift of
[attr=class,lyric2]the goddess
[attr=class,bulk] Sephiroth seemed shocked that he and Angeal were involved in this too, and Genesis could only shake his head at that. “We all have wings, don’t we?” He supposed that they had never really talked about why. Maybe it was easier to just ignore the obvious. Particularly when his friend had been suppressing some of his own memories.
Honestly, Genesis himself was more eager to argue with Sephiroth’s nonsense that he had never been a hero than to talk about what had happened to the three of them. “Yet how many people looked up to you? Including me before we met.” He’d never really told Sephiroth that before, but he’d greatly admired the young SOLDIER when they were kids. Genesis had yearned to escape from Banora and go to Midgar, and Sephiroth was the youngest SOLDIER ever allowed to join. It was only natural that he’d idolized the younger boy. Until he’d learned first-hand how infuriating he could be at least.
Sephiroth asked slowly if Shinra had experimented on him and Angeal, but it was the question of why he hadn’t told him anything that made Genesis look away. “I didn’t know. Not until my injury during our sparring accident when I sprouted a wing. Then Hollander told me everything.” The words were slow in coming, but it was better to start with himself than to outline what exactly Jenova was. That was where he’d failed Sephiroth last time. He’d told him that Jenova was a monster without making it clear that his friend wasn’t the only casualty of Shinra’s experiments. He had a second chance at this, and he had to be honest this time.
“I was born in Midgar and taken in by the Shinra science department. Angeal’s mother—Gillian—was a scientist who infused herself with Jenova’s cells. They grafted Gillian’s cells into me, but they never bonded with my genes entirely. That’s why I was degrading. My cells were unraveling. I was considered a failure and given to a family in Banora.” The words were ashes in his mouth. That’s what his life amounted to after all, didn’t it? The first Jenova experiment and nothing but a failure at that. “Angeal inherited her cells naturally when he was born. He was a success, but Gillian took him with her when she left for Banora. And they only let her take him because-…” Genesis gripped his legs tighter before looking up at his friend. “Because Hojo had come up with an even greater success.” It was obvious what he meant, but the answer was still painful between them. Only one of them had to suffer their childhood with Shinra, and Genesis almost felt like he could echo Sephiroth’s question. Why didn’t you tell me? The silver-haired man had never hidden his past necessarily, but he had certainly downplayed it.
Seeking comfort in Loveless, Genesis muttered his favorite stanza under his breath. “My soul, corrupted by vengeance Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey In my own salvation And your eternal slumber.”
[attr=class,bulk] Sephiroth didn’t find it productive to argue with Genesis about the meaning of Loveless. It was a meaningless exercise at the best of times, but now, with his heart pounding rage and adrenaline in his ears, he could only process one thing. ’Yet how many people looked up to you? Including me before we met.’
Genesis…had looked up to him?
The thought had never occurred to him before. Haughty, above-it-all Genesis who had, as far as Sephiroth had known, lived a life free of torment had idolized him. Genesis, who had joined Soldier at the age of thirteen. How old had Sephiroth been then? Young. A child. Was that why Genesis had approached him all those years ago? It seemed impossible, yet Genesis’ admission only fueled the pain at Genesis’ fate.
Genesis hadn’t known of his own origins until his hospitalization. He spoke not of Hojo, but Professor Hollander, a scientist who Sephiroth knew considerably less intimately. Genesis spoke slowly, hesitantly, as though the words were dragged from his mouth. Sephiroth’s brow furrowed. His throat tightened. And Genesis told his story.
Sephiroth felt his breath catch, ragged and uneven. The science department. Cell infusion. Degradation. The phantom smell of antiseptic overtook the earthy tones of his coffee, and he placed the mug on the counter, only faintly aware that his hand was shaking. He needed to meditate. He’d been taught how to manage these feelings, and yet…
”And they only let her take him because…because Hojo had come up with an even greater success.”
Sephiroth stared at him. He felt nauseous. No. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be…
”I didn’t…” he started, but that felt insufficient. ‘I didn’t know?’ Of course he hadn’t known. If he had, he would have…
Would have…
Sephiroth turned and began pacing. Something, anything to get out the restlessness inside of him, that horrible strangled feeling that threatened to break his composure. If he did…
No. He’d locked away that memory deep inside of himself. He’d locked away all of them. They were unproductive. They would only distract his thoughts.
”Jenova,” he muttered, pacing back and forth through their kitchen like a caged animal. ”Hojo told me it was my mother’s name. I still don’t know who or what she is.”
Something whose mere cells had power. Something which Shinra longed to control. Something they had grafted onto children. Prototypes. All for…
’I must say, Professor Hojo, that this is your best work yet. The subject has excelled in every metric! Before long, we might just have a weapon that will finally bring down those brutes in Wutai.’
Sephiroth stopped pacing. His nausea rose again, closing tight around his throat.
”If you’d told me,” he said. ”I would have defected.”
He understood now Genesis’ desire to burn it all. He understood everything except for why they had left him behind.
”You didn’t trust me.” His hand rose up to his forehead, steadying himself. ”You and Angeal were…close. You didn’t trust me.”
He had been called many things since his promotion to First. He was used to hearing the whispers through the streets of Midgar. ’Shinra’s lapdog,’ they’d called him. He hadn’t known that his friends had thought the same.
”Why?” His voice was rough in a way that it never was as he asked that single question. Why? It was an accusation. A plea. If they truly had thought him nothing more than Shinra’s perfect soldier, their weapon, and nothing else…
His mind was a flurry of thoughts. They leaked through the cracks in composure and manifested in pain. He was powerless against them. If he lost control…
