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year 5, quarter 3
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”Sephiroth.” The two met eyes, and for a moment, Sephiroth thought that the encounter might play out reasonably. And then Genesis through a bottle at his head.
Sephiroth reacted faster than the thought could connect, slipping sideways on instinct as the glass brushed past his bangs. It shattered against the wall behind him, showering him in red droplets and bits of glass. Sephiroth remained as expressionless as ever. He still had his sword at his hip. Though he doubted he’d need it.
Genesis was entirely unguarded, only half dressed with his coat missing. He didn’t have any armor or materia, and his hair was strangely limp without its usual styling. Had he caught him sleeping? There was a blazing rage in his eyes, the kind usually followed by fire and bloodshed, but it dulled quickly. Behind him, the wine slid down the wallpaper in rivulets.
”I thought you were dead.”
Sephiroth’s eyes pricked with surprise. More than the rage or the violence, this struck him far colder. It was simple. Plain in a way that Genesis never was. Sephiroth hesitated, uncertain. He couldn’t quite meet his eye.
”There was a diversion,” he said. It sounded unsatisfactory somehow -- as though he were missing something. Angeal would have told him what that was. He turned away.
”I met the Turks in Sonora,” he said. It was blunt. Self-evident. ”They promised me information, but led me into a trap. Once I’d neutralized their enemies, they talked.”
About what, he didn’t need to say. He wouldn’t admit that he’d come with questions on his past and left with nothing. He refused to mention just how well he’d been played. It was the only predictable outcome when setting oneself against the Turks in matters of deception and subterfuge. He’d left it with the only lead that really mattered. For this, even Genesis would have to forgive him.
Sephiroth closed his eyes, the weight of the words already on his shoulders. ”Angeal is alive.”
The monster was...delusional. Sephiroth smirked, listening to it screech about ’tasties’ all burned to ash. Did it mean his defection from Shinra? He’d heard it had ended in fire though to take vengeance for food…
Sephiroth touched his glove to his forehead, shoulders shaking with laughter. This wasn’t worth his time.
Before he could leave, however, the monster had worked itself into a rage. It howled at him like a feral animal, flailed its arms about, and then tilted forwards on its heels, unhinging its gaping jaw like a snake before-
Sephiroth’s eyes sharpened. He had an instant to move before it happened. Projectiles, firing from the target, hundreds of them in rapid succession. He dodged to the side, bracing himself for either the piercing impact or the brush of wind across his cheek, but it seemed his companion was nearly as fast. The threw herself in front of him, hair streaking behind her as she reached for her rapier, thrusting it out in front of both of them. There was a flash of light, the projectiles struck the solid magic, embedding themselves in the air like a pin cushion.
Sephiroth paused, glancing between them. A barrier spell? It was stronger than any protect materia he’d seen.
"Forgive me if I have overstepped my bounds. If this must be taken care of in an aggressive manner, could it please be done where those who cannot defend themselves do not become injured?"
’Overstepped her bounds? Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. The crowds were already scattering. The monster didn’t seem easy to dissuade. Sephiroth touched at the hilt of his sword.
Would he have to end it himself? He didn’t particularly care for the civilian cost. If anything, neutralizing this threat would do the entire town a favor.
But he wasn’t the only one to think it. Hardly a second had passed before another good samaritan threw himself into the fray. Sephiroth glanced between him (blonde, young, was that a tail…?), the girl, and the monster before he gave a soft, ”Hmph,” and took to the sky, willing gravity null as he landed lightly on the nearest rooftop. Would the monster follow him? Perhaps, but with the wall of pacifying spectators, it wouldn’t manage it. Sephiroth extended his wing, looking up to the sun before thrusting himself towards it.
A trick from Genesis. The return flight wouldn’t take long. He would find Genesis, follow Angeal’s trail, and then they would be reunited again. In the sky, at least, he would find no resistance.
How long had it been since Sephiroth had last seen Genesis? Weeks? It couldn’t have been more than five. Sephiroth felt his eyes ache with sleeplessness. In those weeks, he’d brought his body to the breaking point both from stress and his own rapidly firing mind. There could be no rest when his thoughts sparked with their own merciless precision.
Angeal. Where was he?
Sephiroth stopped outside the door, listening. He heard footsteps. Sephiroth had hoped that he’d find the apartment empty -- that he could have been the one to greet Genesis rather than the other way around. It seemed he hadn’t been so lucky. Knocking would mean giving Genesis the other hand. Entering would mean leaving himself vulnerable to attack. In that moment, the weight of their time apart fell heavily on his shoulders.
Surely, Genesis would understand. If he would listen. If he was reasonable.
Sephiroth sighed before he reached for his keys, inserting them carefully into the lock. He knew that stealth was pointless here, but he moved instinctively. Quietly. Understanding and reasonable were not words he would have used to describe Genesis. He braced himself for a burst of fire and the flash of a sword.
The living room was empty. The coffee table was cluttered with a few discarded books. The shelf was slightly misaligned. From the kitchen, he heard the bubbling of poured wine. Sephiroth did not set aside his sword as he stepped lightly inside, footsteps hardly clicking on the dulled hardwood floors. He started forward, pausing at the kitchen doorway. Inside was a flash of red.
Sephiroth reached inside his pocket, feeling at the folded paper within. He knew how his intel would sound. Genesis had been certain he’d seen Angeal die, and yet…
And yet Sephiroth was not one to discard wherever the trail would lead him.
He stepped into the open, watching Genesis carefully. A single sudden movement could be the only warning of his unpredictable anger.
”Genesis.” It was all he said, simple and quiet. He didn’t know if there was anything behind it. A greeting? An apology? No. It was nothing more than what it was. Genesis would have to complete the rest.
Something struck him, and Sephiroth stopped, startled by the sudden, inhuman wail. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it barrelling towards him. The lack of sleep, he thought, or maybe his own distraction. Was it sleeplessness that tricked his mind into whatever had assaulted him now? No. The rest of the crowd had parted with the same alarm that he felt in his own eyes.
The thing was a monster waddling about in what looked like a chef’s hat and an oversized mumu. It was white as a corpse with gleaming, pupiless eyes and an oversized tongue spilling out onto what looked like a bib. For a moment, Sephiroth could only stare as it rocked on the ground, arms flailing. Then it drew itself up with unnatural speed and pulled out…
Was that a fork?
”YOU!” It gave another unearthly screech, its oversized tongue lashing out like a cobra’s. ”How you DO that?! YOU the reason why there no munchies in this place!”
Sephiroth blinked slowly. He’d known it had been a risk revealing himself. He’d known that walking through the crowds so blatantly was certain to draw the eye of assassins, but this...
This he could not have expected.
”Munchies?” Sephiroth closed his eyes, smirking. Was this some kind of joke? ”I think you're mistaken.”
He’d been accused of many things. Delusion. Murder. War crimes. But he could honestly say that this was new.
He’d started to move past it when a woman approached, her eyebrows knit in worry. A civilian, albeit a brave one. The rest of the crowd had scattered, choosing to watch from a safe distance if they chose to watch at all. Sephiroth gave a short ”Hmph,” casting his cold eyes on the monster. ”I have no idea.”
Sephiroth thought of him as he kept his eyes straight ahead, not caring who he saw or who saw him in return. Angeal. It was strange how the mere suggestion of his survival had been enough to break his focus. After a lifetime of training, he had thought there was nothing that could have swayed him from a mission’s end, but he had been mistaken.
For this and this alone, he would break his oath of vengeance. His hatred was nothing compared to the bonds of a friend.
Cissnei had not been what he’d expected. She was a Turk -- cold, calculating, and professional. Still, there had been something different about her. Something warm. It had disarmed him, and perhaps that had been his mistake. Did he really believe that Angeal was alive as she’d said? He wanted to. The slightest possibility was worth the distraction, but he knew well enough that her ploy had worked. He had come with the intention to spill blood. He had left without so much as a single question answered.
He hadn’t slept in three days.
Sephiroth didn’t ask for directions. The people of this city shied away from his gaze, clearing the path as a matter of instinct. Instead, Sephiroth searched it on his own, eyes sharp for the single clue he’d been given. He found it on the east side of town in a sector that was only barely reputable. The Siren. Sephiroth paused outside the tavern’s door, suddenly hesitant.
This was ridiculous. He knew it better than anyone, and yet…
Sephiroth pushed open the door. This was his mission now. He would not falter again.
He strode through the bar with perfect focus, ignoring the noise and the drunkards and the sudden hushed silence that met him as he passed. This place smelled of smoke and old liquor. He wouldn’t stay long.
He pushed towards the counter and waited silently. The tender didn’t notice at first, still filling another man’s beer from on draft. Then he turned around, saw him, and jumped. ”Oh.”
Sephiroth said nothing.
The man handed over the beer and approached him cautiously, trying for a forced smile. ”What can I do for you?”
”I’m looking for someone,” Sephiroth said. ”I heard he came here.”
”I’m sorry. I don’t give out information like that.”
”There was some kind of event. A…” Sephiroth’s eyes wavered. ”...blind...date.”
In that moment, he was sure he’d been lied to. It had sounded ridiculous in his head, but saying it aloud…
The bartender nodded slowly. ”Right. Zane’s thing.” He looked uncomfortable. ”There were a lot of people here for that. I was just a waiter then.”
”His name’s Angeal.”
”I don’t know him.”
”He has a big sword,” Sephiroth said dryly. ”No one but a SOLDIER could carry it.”
”Oh.” The bartender paused. ”Well now that you mention it…” He glanced behind him and then gave Sephiroth an uncertain look. ”Are you a friend?”
”Hmph.” Sephiroth closed his eyes. When the silence told him that this wasn’t a sufficient answer, he added, ”Yes.”
”Just a minute.” The man ducked behind the counter. Sephiroth heard the clinks of glasses before he emerged, a creased paper in his hand. ”Here it is. It won’t tell you much, but I guess you were right.”
Sephiroth reached out a hand, hesitated, and then took it. A single glance was all it took to catch his breath.
’Your Name: Angeal Hewley.’
He brought it closer, staring at those four words. It was his handwriting. Sephiroth recognized it in an instant. ’Angeal Hewley.’ He was alive. He was here. He was…
Going on blind dates apparently. Sephiroth would not have expected that.
Sephiroth didn’t say anything to the bartender. He just took the note, neatly folded it, and turned to walk out the door. The bartender called out to stop him, but Sephiroth didn’t listen. He had his evidence. Now he would follow where it led.
The city met him as he stepped onto the street, eyes squinting into the sun. Angeal. Sephiroth would find him by whatever means were necessary. And nothing would stand in his way.
Thanks Sephiroth. It's almost like you don't care about Cissnei at all
I knew mine was a special existence
Cissnei stopped him with a hand. She had conditions. Of course she did.
”I will not hold you to what Genesis did. However, when you first discovered things for yourself…” She paused. He’d already heard of the fires, and the massacre that had followed. He’d never heard the exact reason, but he’d never doubted it. Had he been under stress...Had his faith been shattered…
It was what he’d been trained for since birth. He felt nothing at the blood on his blade. It was like him. He wouldn’t have hesitated.
”We are in a different time and place now,” Cissnei said. ”I am not sure if you have been pulled from a time before that. But I will protect the people of Sonora and do not wish them further harm than what has been done today.”
He saw the resolution in her eyes and the truth behind them. Any enemy to this city was an enemy of hers -- and by extension, the Turks. Their truce was conditional. He saw the logic behind it.
”Hmph.” He had no reason to say anything. She knew exactly how dangerous he could become.
She warned him of his enemies. It was nothing new. There were always swordsmen out for revenge. For their people. For their country. For the devastation reaped on Shinra’s orders. He’d faced the wrong end of too many grudges to count. A few more meant nothing.
”Noted.” No matter how worthless her warning, it was a warning none the less. It meant well. It was at least worth a minimal response.
She offered him his past. Part of him wanted to take it. Why else had he hunted them but for answers? Still, another part of him -- a secret part -- resisted. No matter why he’d come, he had only one mission now. He couldn’t afford to be compromised by the unknown.
”A Valentine’s Day event?” His eyebrows raised. If there was anything to contradict her story, it was this. He couldn’t imagine Angeal ever going to something so useless of his own volition. Still, it was too specific a lie to fabricate easily. And too outrageous for someone of her intellect and cunning.
He mulled the thought over before finally giving a hum of acknowledgement. ”Provo then.” He walked by her without another word. He had what he wanted. He would waste no more time on feelings and reflections of the past.
Still, he paused as he reached the door. Was there anything else to say? It had been a chaotic night full of surprises and disaster. Cissnei had purposefully put him in the line of fire and used him for her own purposes. Still, she’d given him something that he couldn’t have imagined. Angeal. Alive.
”I have an apartment in Torensten,” he said. ”You can find me there.”
With that said, he opened the door and started into the cold and dismal night. It would be sunrise soon, he thought, and still he would press on. He’d found his focus, and his thoughts wouldn’t rest. Provo. Every minute he hesitated, was another minute that Angeal slipped further from his grasp.
’I’m coming.’ Sephiroth looked up to consider the sky. In seconds he had joined it, fading into the night on a shadowed wing.
That was enough to give Sephiroth pause. For that brief moment, all of her poise dissipated into pure emotion. She touched a trembling hand to her chest. ”How…?” Her voice rasped before she tried again. ”How can I tell you anything when you will not believe a word I say?”
For not the first time that night, Sephiroth was thrown. He hadn’t expected weakness from a Turk -- let alone insecurity. Turks were cool, calculating, and above all professional. Turks did not cry.
And yet Cissnei did.
Sephiroth felt uncertainty creep into his eyes. Her previous plays at warmth could have been deceptive, but this was not. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t their style.
“I am not your enemy…unless you make me your enemy,” she said. Her eyes were hot with passion. “Maybe you have been hurt by Shinra, but so have the Turks. Don’t act like you and your friends are the only victims!”
She raised her voice, and Sephiroth glanced away. He knew that he wasn’t the only victim. Of course he knew though he had never particularly cared. He knew Genesis and Angeal. Anyone else was estranged to him, and he’d been trained never to make connections.
Still, the thought that the Turks were victims of Shinra…
It hadn’t crossed his mind.
”Tseng…” Had he ever felt like a victim? Sephiroth doubted it. The man was stoic, competent, and devoted to his work. Disloyalty wouldn’t have so much crossed his mind. Then again, he supposed others could have said the same of him.
“We tried to help you and the others,” she said. ”But we had no idea what was going on. Why anyone was defecting. That’s why I was sent to follow Zack.”
That felt wrong. Why would any of them have helped him? Zack, maybe, but not him. His stomach turned with unease.
Had Tseng really…?
She shook her head. “I am sorry we acted too late. The only person Tseng and I could help in the end was Zack and an infantryman. And even that…I failed.” She gave a bitter smile. She still blamed herself. Whatever had happened, she felt its weight.
Despite her frustrations, she told him what he wanted to know -- or some of it at least. He’d heard about what Hojo and Hollander had done. The thought had filled him with a kind of muffled rage when spoken from Genesis’ tongue, but he felt numb now. He had accepted it, he thought, or pushed it back so far that it might didn’t matter anymore. Genesis and Angeal had been tampered with. Genesis and Angeal were like him…
His fist tightened. No. He had never wanted that.
”Genesis is alive,” he said quietly. ”He’s made a recovery.”From degradation. He remembered the word muttered by Hojo in his scientific fervor. ’Cellular degradation is always a possibility,’ he’d said. ’In which case the subject could be compromised.’
He hesitated. Part of him wanted to give some comment on her feelings. The other wanted to stick to business and leave her personal life very much alone. Still…
”If you are not my enemy then we could assist each other.” He glanced away. ”For Tseng.” That was the only explanation he needed. If the man had risked disloyalty for his sake then Sephiroth owed him a debt. As much as that was worth.
He felt suddenly tired. It clouded his eyes. ”Where is Angeal?” he asked again. ”That’s all I need to know.”
He couldn’t tell whether it was a tactic, competence, or something softer. In fact, he couldn’t tell anything from her expression except that she took his words seriously. His fist tightened under her scrutiny. He felt like he was under a microscope. He folded his wing tightly back into place.
”Past. Future. I think they are irrelevant concepts.”
It wasn’t the answer he was looking for. She was stalling for time, and yet he couldn’t say that he wasn’t interested. Different timelines? His eyebrows knit together. Such thoughts were beyond him, and in most ways irrelevant. There was nothing to do but act in the present and plan for the future. Theorizing about useless concepts like that were…
Not entirely invalid given the circumstances, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
She spoke of Genesis. Slightly better. He doubted that he kept his secrets for anyone’s sake but his own. Genesis was a selfish man, and Sephiroth had never known him to act in any other way. Not for him and not for anyone else.
But if he was wrong…
”Angeal is dead?” She turned her head to the stock of liquor and wine. ”Interesting. He was oddly alive for a date. Only last month too.”
”What?” Sephiroth stopped -- frozen, staring. His breath caught, and for that moment, there was nothing else. Angeal? Alive? It felt wrong, like something he had dismissed long ago. But if she was right...If she wasn’t lying…
”He’s…?” He couldn’t finish it. The words were lost to him. There was only that echo: Angeal. Angeal. Angeal.
He gave a short laugh instead. Weak. His strength had left him. ”He doesn’t date,” he said. Or at least he hadn’t. That he knew of? It was hard to imagine.
Angeal, catching eyes on a woman. Angeal, making the suggestion. Angeal, sipping wine and wondering what would come of it. It was wrong. Angeal was not Genesis.
His thoughts were so clouded that he hardly heard her speak. Zack. Monsters. Angels. It slid off him like rain. There was only one name that caught. Hojo.
A side effect of the planet? He watched her warily. He didn’t know what it meant, but Hojo had done...something. He’d known that to be true, but hadn’t he known of Angeal’s death? He didn’t want to hear it.
”You’re here,” he said. An agent of Shinra. ”And the rest of the Turks.” Working together like bees in a hive. Against him -- or using him at least. How could he trust them? If they still served Shinra…
She touched him.
Sephiroth stiffened, all other matters forgotten. His eyes turned cold as he watched her grip. He didn’t need her pity.
”Genesis is protecting himself,” he said. There was no need to dress it up into something it wasn’t. There was something that Genesis wanted forgotten. Whether that was a denial, a provocation, or his own mistakes, Sephiroth couldn’t say. He wrenched his arm away from her. That was enough.
”It’s better than nothing,” he said and then paused. What was it, exactly, that he wanted to hear? His past, yes, but after all that she’d said…
His voice weakened. ”Where did you meet Angeal?” That was most important. Despite everything, despite the odds, he had to know. ”Is he...well?”
Cissnei paced behind him, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She was cautious. Testing. It was a smart tactic, he thought, and one that more could employ. Say what he would about the Turks, they knew how to navigate a delicate conversation. He was outmatched in this and this alone.
A place to start. That would give her the advantage. It put the weight of the question on him. The shift of power twisted his lips into a smirk. In a battle, it was imperative never to be put on guard. Not without a plan at least.
A plan. This was unfamiliar territory. How was he supposed to take the upper hand?
She gave him a moment to think, but no longer than that. He heard a hint of amusement in her voice. ”Also, if you don’t like what you hear, try not to kill the messenger.”
He felt a hint of laughter as well. He couldn’t help it. The joke was humanizing. ”No promises,” he said, smirking faintly. He turned and fixed his eyes on hers. Would it set her off balance or merely soften him? It was a risk he was willing to take.
”I don’t remember my past. Or...my future?” His smirk turned dry. ”I’ve reconvened with Genesis, but he’s hiding something. He isn’t hard to read.”Not if you knew his poems, at least. His friend wore every emotion blazing upon his sleeve. They were a fiery contrast -- black on red. He still didn’t quite understand what drew them together. Their history with Angeal, perhaps.
He glanced to the side. ”Angeal is dead,” he said. ”Genesis and I fought. I defected. And I was pronounced dead in action.” He let out a short breath that was almost like a laugh. ”It...feels right. I know I’ve lived it, but my memory…” He scowled.
”Was it Hojo?” He was quiet. ”My memory. This…thing.” He unfurled his wing only slightly. He felt exposed. Ashamed. ”If I defected, they would keep me alive. As a specimen.”
He considered them like motes of dust on wine glasses. Since he’d woken in this strange place, he’d found nothing but questions. Where was he? What was he? What had happened, and Genesis…?
Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. Genesis in particular felt wrong. They had never been so close -- so dependent -- and every reverent line of poetry brought another twinge of unease. He breathed questions -- questions that Sephiroth did not want answered. Some part of him instructed Sephiroth to demand his friend speak the truth, but he couldn’t. For some irrational reason, he couldn’t, and so he was here. Biding his time.
That was what the Turks were for.
He’d waited for three hours in a back room that smelled of softened wood. The bounder recognized him, and perhaps on instinct, let him through without a word. Sephiroth knew that this too was likely a trap, but he had never been one to shy away from them. He had made his position as clear as the consequences. He would have his answers no matter what blood he had to spill.
One way or the other, Cissnei would speak.
Sephiroth did not sit. He simply waited, arms crossed, eyes thoughtful. When the door finally creaked open, he didn’t bother to turn his head. She revealed herself.
”I thought you would get more comfortable in the bar,” she said. Sephiroth’s eyes cooled.
”No.” He had no time for small talk. His patience had burned away with the smell of her smoldering office. He would waste no more time.
”You said you knew my past.” His fingers clenched into black leather. ”Talk.”
