Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII at all. That honor goes to other, lucky people, like Square Enix T.T
"Fated"
Summary: She was of unique heritage, separating her from the rest of humanity. He was isolated by choice, preferring loneliness to companionship. Perhaps their meeting was fated after all. Sephiroth/Aerith, set during Crisis Core
Prologue
Midgar.
The city that never sleeps, as it known throughout the world. The city of light, progress, and power.
Ruled by one company, kept in line by money, and guarded by those infused with mako.
The slums of Midgar were uncommonly deserted for this time of night. Usually the dank streets, surrounded by dilapidated buildings and grimy houses, were swarming with sinister figures and flashy women; with raggedy people and dangerous fights. The piles of junk and trash, which ordinarily were occupied by scavengers hunting through them for sellable items, were now void of human life. Even the dodgy taverns and frequented run-down pawnshops were empty, the absence of customers as painfully obvious as the extinguished lights and locked doors on the places.
It was a well-known fact to anyone who lived in Midgar: unlike the lifestyle of those who lived on the Plate, the one in the sector slums was dark and difficult--not one to be desired in any shape or form. The slums were the domain of those who had nowhere else to go, which was a significant percent of the population of Midgar. Essentially, anyone who wasn't employed by the Shin-ra Company was inevitably destined for the lower lifestyle that awaited them in the slums. Though the gap between the wealthy and poor in Midgar was deplorable, it was simply the accepted and regular way of life that had resulted from Shin-ra's dominance over the city.
However, it was clear that the absence of the usual shady ongoings was due to the abundance of monsters crawling throughout the slums, their bright eyes shining inhumanely and teeth snapping ominously. They crawled on the buildings, writhed on the ground, and circled in lazy, dangerous patterns through the stale air. They were the fearful beings preventing the inhabitants of the slums from emerging into the streets and leaving their homes, for fear of being caught and harmed by the prowling creatures.
Through the darkness, which was permeated only by the dull flickerings of light coming from the streetlamps, a sudden flash of sharp silver appeared, cutting through the air with a soft whistle. It was a strikingly swift and ill-omened noise, of little notice but terrible consequence.
In the next moment, ten of the deformed creatures collapsed dead on the grubby road, their eyes now dull without life. Dark, oddly-colored blood pooled on the street where they had been slain, staining the road in an ominous way.
The only sound marking their death was the clunk of heavy boots as their dark reaper walked away in search of more.
Several fiends fulfilled his wish, leaping forwards to take the place of the fallen monsters. They were larger than their predecessors, with hideous scales and large clicking teeth in mouths salivating for a brutal kill. Such an image would have been normally fear-provoking in most humans, but to a man hardened to most of life's monsters, it made little impact.
Threatening hisses surrounded the man with catlike eyes, his intense green ones shining even more demonically than any of the monsters'. They were mako-infused eyes—the sign of a skilled fighter and abnormal human, chemically-enhanced and genetically altered. To most people, the ones with such eyes were more terrifying than the monsters they killed. Such an opinion was not unduly founded, for those with glowing eyes were not known for their humanity or kindness.
He stood motionless, his looming, black-clad form seemingly unconcerned by the numerous monsters circling around him in wicked anticipation. The faulty light cast shadows on his tall, lithe figure, obscuring his face and cloaking his expressions.
The moment the man shifted the hilt of his impossibly long sword in his left hand the tense silence was shattered. They attacked with fervor, the snarls and howls emitting from the fiends echoing throughout the empty area in waves of sound.
With a sleek, deadly intent, the man disappeared from where he stood previously, barely visible as he clashed with the monsters, his sword flashing in complicated arcs and slices. His style was continuous, with each strike connected in a fluid motion of death and ruin.
The man was utterly sensuous in his fighting—a person who practiced it completely as an art rather than merely a killing method. Most were brutal in the way of the sword. This preternatural being was coldly efficient and breathtakingly fast in his unbroken dance with the fiends. There was no hesitance, no stopping or halted movements.
A hiss of air. Three crashed to the ground, clouds of dust and stone rising up as they did so.
A sideways rush of silver. The air was filled with the bodies of monsters flying backwards from the force.
A form clad in pitch black leather wading through the destruction to collide in battle. Eight more entered into the void of death within the span of a few mere seconds.
Loose strands of silver hair swirled around the fighter as he abruptly turned, thrusting his weapon through a sly monster attempting to sneak up behind him. His shadowed face stayed expressionless as its rank blood splattered against his cheek, providing a stark contrast against his alabaster skin.
Behind him, countless carcasses littered the street, a testament to the man's integral strength. There was no sign of exertion or weariness about the figure, not even after the skirmish that had just occurred.
For the first time that night, a semblance of characterization was on the man's precisely sculpted face as a smirk danced upon his lips. His face marred by blood, but impossibly beautiful and strong at the same time, surrounded by death—it was a fearsome sight to behold, had anyone been there to see it.
He surveyed his prey with disdain, lowering his sword as he coolly observed the slaughter he had just carried out. Clearly, he was unaffected by the picture of death laid out in front of him.
He quickly turned the body of one of the monsters over with his black boot, examining it thoroughly. Though its size was large, that was no indication of power. And given how easily it had been defeated, the fiend clearly was a low-level one, hardly one worthy of anyone's notice, or of his time.
Sephiroth allowed a small, derisive snort to escape him. This was what he had been sent out for? How absurd.
He felt mildly insulted, though his green eyes held some mild amusement at the situation. A regiment of inexperienced troopers could have done the job just as well as he was capable of doing. These were all monsters that were hardly lethal and poor quarry. Though they were a hazard to civilians, to any soldier trained in fighting they were easy prey.
But maybe the scared bureaucrats had felt the need to reassert their authority over him after that last meeting. He had overridden a direct order of theirs with no consequence and little effort.
He was, after all, a SOLDIER of Shin-ra. Despite his high ranking as General of the military and SOLDIER, he was still as much of a lowly servant as the greenest trooper. He had never held any rose-colored fantasies about that part of Shin-ra, at least, unlike many of his colleagues.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair distractedly. Perhaps for all of his immense power and prestige, which he was fully aware frightened more than a few of the higher ups, they had sought to remind him he was under their command. President Shin-ra, that idiot Heidegger, Scarlet—they delighted in sending him on menial tasks occasionally. Lazard had apologetically and with no small amount of fear in his eyes given him this assignment.
But really, their idea of punishment was laughable. Ordering him to go to the Sector Five slums to take care of the monster breeding problem? How petty. He had better ways to occupy his time than playing their pointless political games. Such as devising ways to get rid of Hojo without anyone tracing it back to him.
It was a shame that Genesis and Angeal were elsewhere, Sephiroth idly mused. The night would have been far less dull had they been here as well. Undoubtedly Genesis would have promptly turned the monster slaying into a contest, while Angeal would relentlessly preach about the sacred duty they had of upholding the peace of all of Midgar, and lecture them for their disregard of the mission. Hmph. He must be bored to an extreme if he was actually longing for the antics of Genesis and Angeal's long-winded speeches.
Sephiroth shook his head at his friend's continual competitiveness with him, then glanced around him quickly in a brief scan of the area.
If he could locate the nest where these trifling annoyances were spawning from, then this ridiculous 'mission' would be over much sooner. And the sooner he was done with it, the sooner he could attend to the mountain of paperwork that was patiently waiting for him on his desk back at headquarters. While not a particularly appealing thought, it was better to get rid of it as soon as possible (maybe he could coerce Zack into doing it for him. The energetic kid seemed to be willing to do anything asked of him). Besides, he was currently experiencing the urge to find the idiots who had sentenced him to this pointless endeavor and introduce them to Masamune in a most painful way.
Apparently, Sephiroth did not have much patience for fools, nor did he suffer them. A most charming part of his no-nonsense and decisive personality that had frightened more than one newbie trooper during training and missions.
But, that aside, he was wasting precious time merely standing here. He was simply going to have to put up with the annoying whims of those in charge for the time being, and finish this.
Just as he turned to search elsewhere for the monster's nest, a startled cry broke the blanket of silence surrounding him. It was soft and had been smothered abruptly, and was coming from quite far away, but Sephiroth's keen hearing picked it up instantaneously. One of the many perks of being a Mako-enhanced SOLDIER.
He swore quietly as he began rapidly moving towards a distant alley where the sound had seemingly emerged from. What foolish civilian had gone out tonight, when there had been a televised warning issued about the monster problem? And even if they hadn't heard it, couldn't people use their eyes to see how dangerous the streets were? Sometimes Sephiroth honestly, albeit cynically, wondered where some people kept their brains, if they even had any.
His feet barely contacted with the ground as he swiftly covered the length of the street in an exceedingly short amount of time. Buildings blurred in Sephiroth's peripheral vision as he continued moving at inhuman speeds, though his senses were as attuned to everything as ever. He rounded the corner of the street, grasping more firmly onto Masamune as he did so, and entering into the trash-ridden alley that branched off of it.
It took him only a short moment to absorb what was happening: someone's small body was sprawled on the ground, besieged by about half a dozen massive, winged monsters.
Masamune was once again lifted up in preparation for battle, and Sephiroth wasted no time in striking. Though clichéd, the beasts had no idea of what hit them.
One of the monsters looked up in what might have been surprise when something flew by it, impaling a fiend near to him. In less than a second, a black form quickly flickered into being next to it, a powerful kick delivered to its head and sending it haphazardly flying into the wall behind it, splattering against it messily.
The other four hardly had time to attack before they were bisected with the Masamune with a merciless efficiency, their bodies dropping heavily one after the other.
Still holding up his sword in ready anticipation of another attack, a visual sweep of the area told him there were currently no other monsters to be found. He had taken care of them all, for the moment at least. With that, Sephiroth smoothly crouched down next to the person lying on the cold stone ground, his eyes hastily checking over the still being. His silver eyebrows raised in a motion of surprise at what he saw there.
So this was the utterly foolish civilian who had decided to go out, completely unarmed, in the dead of night when the slums were filled with animalistic enemies. It was a woman. A quick glimpse at her young, sweetly innocent face quickly corrected that statement. No one with such a face was a woman. No…it was clear that it was just a teenage girl, hardly out of childhood most likely.
He reached out a gloved hand and lifted her thin wrist, feeling for a pulse with a practiced air. She was obviously hurt, but with his trained eyes he realized it was nothing life-threatening. He had gotten there fast enough to see to that.
However, he evidently hadn't been fast enough to ensure that she escaped totally unscathed. He grimaced slightly as he glanced over the girl's body. Her slim arms and legs were marred with little scrapes and reddened cuts, and her brightly-colored, girly dress had been raggedly ripped by the bird fiends near the shoulder, allowing perfectly pale skin to be seen.
If there was one thing Sephiroth despised, it was seeing innocents harmed in the course of fighting, such as this girl. Call it his SOLDIER's pride, his honor, but Sephiroth still detested exposing uninvolved people to the more revolting side of life that was composed of carnage and obliteration. No, that was reserved for people specifically built to deal with such things. People like him who were hardened to the nastier part of the world that kept carefully hidden within the darkness and shadows.
Just what had someone like her been doing, roaming the streets by herself? Unless she was brain-dead, surely she would have realized the idiocy in her actions. And for a girl who looked like this one, even if no monsters had been around, there were still plenty of other despicable characters stalking the streets in the night.
His eyes narrowed as he observed her face. It was the typical pretty countenance of a young girl, and she couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old, but at the same time there was something…oddly angelic about it. Almost as though she had an otherworldly purity that was not often found in these times. Her closed eyes were characterized with long, dark lashes dusting her skin, and her small, pink mouth looked as though it was probably tilted up in a smile most of the time. A frown would seem…rather out of place on such a face. Her face was delicately pale and smooth, and surrounded by clouds of chestnut-colored brown hair which were mostly secured in a long braid. A single cut was oozing crimson blood on her forehead in a light, unbroken trickle, a beautiful highlight against the glowing whiteness of her skin.
But that wasn't what concerned him, though he felt uncomfortably odd merely by looking at her. It was extremely discomforting, but…he could have sworn that he had seen this girl somewhere before, and it highly irked him that he couldn't remember where. Every feature, every detail of her limp face nagged at the edges of his mind, dancing beyond his reach. He racked his memory, searching for any sort of previous meeting or the like, but came up with nothing. For a man who had a photographic memory, and could glance at items once and know them intricately, this was an exceedingly irritating first experience.
He traced the features of her face with his gaze intently, his mind rapidly attempting to place the face with a name, but still continuing to have no success. Well, he rationalized, it was probably meaningless anyways. Just an odd game his mind was playing with him. At any rate, he would dwell on it later, after he was done here and back at headquarters.
He set her hand back down, having found a reassuringly strong pulse in her body. She would live; she was only unconscious for now. Now, the remaining question was what to do with her. Sephiroth was essentially lost as to what his course of action should be. He had no idea, despite her odd familiarity, who she was or where she lived. Unfortunately, leaving her here was out of the question.
From her clean appearance, with the exception of her scattered wounds and sullying dirt from the alley covering her, he guessed she came from a nicer area of the slums, if there even was such a thing that existed. She most likely had a family that was worrying over her disappearance right at this moment as well. Perhaps a loving mother and father who were frantically searching for her whereabouts. Sephiroth had heard that most parents tended to worry incessantly over their children's well-being most of the time, about whether they were safe and happy. He wouldn't know, having never experienced anything like it firsthand.
He sighed, wishing to be over and done with this business quickly. Because of the distraction this girl had caused, which had effectively sidetracked him from his mission, he still had to find and eradicate that damn nest of monsters.
The best thing to do now was probably to just wake the girl up and get her home as soon as possible.
He grabbed hold of her shoulder and shook her gingerly, trying to jostle her awake. Seeing as he didn't exactly have any water on him, and if he slapped her face he'd probably bruise it even more than it already was, shaking her was the best option for bringing her back to consciousness.
Her body moved sluggishly as he shook it lightly, her form continuing to be limp and unresponsive to his attempts at waking her. He scowled slightly, his thin silver brows drawing together, willing the girl to get up.
His eyes focused on her face abruptly as her eyelids fluttered a little, giving out a sure sign that she was finally coming around. A soft moan escaped her lips as she parted them, and she began to stir on the ground restlessly.
She would probably be fully coherent in about a minute or so, but it was best to begin trying to reorient her senses by speaking to her.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Though it was possibly the most clichéd line ever, Aerith was sure she was dreaming. No, she wasn't only sure, she was absolutely, completely, without a doubt, positive that she was dreaming.
The last thing she really remembered was trying to take a shortcut through the slums to get home. She had stayed far too long at the church, tending to the flowers there with infinite care, and it was already dark outside when she noticed what time it was. She had frantically run out, chastising herself for forgetting the time and panicking over making her mother worry about her and scold her for being irresponsible again. After all, having lived in the slums all her life she knew better than anyone the dangers of wandering around too late at night. There were all sorts of creeps and shady people inhabiting the streets during the evening hours, and being around them was not a good idea.
She had only gotten a few streets away from the church, and then she had been attacked by those awful monsters, and the entire world had immediately gone black. She shivered just remembering it, the way their horrible beaks had felt, scratching her, tearing at her…
And now she was trying to open her eyes, but she wasn't sure if she was actually awake. Seeing as she was feeling pain, she thought someone might have rescued her, but then again, maybe she was dead?
For the vision in front of her was far too surreal to be true, and not a dream. There was an unbelievably beautiful visage bent down over her, a pair of strikingly glowing green orbs gazing intently into her face. The being (for while it appeared to be a male, it was too remarkable to be called a mere man) had a face akin to one being sculpted from the smoothest marble imaginable by a talented artist. He had high cheekbones, and the skin was flawlessly pale, the light cast on it causing it to almost glow.
She deplored her blurry vision, and fought to keep her eyes open and focused, though it was difficult.
He was both frightening and dangerously alluring in his alien perfection, and his raw beauty. The most intriguing part of this creature wasn't even completely to be found in his looks, Aerith mused drowsily, her mind still distorted from the pain of her wounds. It was in the fact that his face was so completely lacking any sort of emotion or expression. His features were faultless, but were somehow made less wonderful by the coldness on this person's face. She could only wonder if whatever was holding her was human, or if it was only another monster. She had never seen a human to be like this, so she truly wasn't sure.
Belatedly, she focused on his lips, and realized they were moving, forming words. She struggled to direct her mind to hear his words, desperate, for some reason, to hear his voice. She was certain it was just as enticingly beautiful as the being's features.
She wasn't disappointed. Her eyes slipped close again, though she struggled to keep them open, resulting in a flutter of her eyelids. His voice, whoever's it was, was fearsome to her, such a contrast it was with most of the voices of the men she knew in the slums. She was mostly acquainted with very old men and their rusty, faltering voices, or the young boys of the slums who called out greetings in their eager, youthful tones.
But this voice…it was low pitched, clearly belonging to a man, and no mere boy or teenager at that. It was the type of voice which Aerith, in her rather sheltered childhood, had never before been exposed to before. It was firm, assured, and, to her subconscious amusement, sounded a little impatient. So, her savior with the emotionless face of a seraph could indeed feel and be expressive?
With an effort, she pieced together his words, though everything seemed to be hazy. He was…asking her to wake up? Was that it?
That alone pierced her distorted thought process.
Yes, she had to wake up. She had to get home. She grew a little disgusted with herself, for what was she doing getting starry-eyed over someone while Mom must be going out of her mind with worry about her right now! She could just imagine her mother now, crying and pacing in front of the window with fear, not knowing if her only daughter had been kidnapped by the Turks or been mugged and beaten on the streets like so many others. It would be pure selfishness to not try and get home as fast as possible.
Aerith moaned as she tried to lift her limbs, wincing a little from the movement. She gave up when she felt a gloved hand grasp her arm, holding it still in her efforts to get up.
"Can you hear me?"
Though her eyes were now shut tight from exhaustion and pain, the voice's words reached her ears with perfect clarity. Aerith nodded as best she could in response, determined to focus on answering as opposed to attempting to move. Everything would be all right if her mysterious savior could just get her home. Usually she would never trust anyone like this, but she just didn't have the strength to do it herself right now. Hopefully this wasn't someone who worked for Shin-ra. Hopefully this wasn't just another ploy to capture her.
"Where do you live?"
Oh. She needed to answer that out loud. She coughed a little, wondering why her throat hurt so much. Or maybe it was her head that was hurting? Anxiously, she wondered if it had been bruised or damaged by the monsters at all. Rasping, she managed to get out, "Sector Five…" before she winced in pain, acutely feeling the parts of her body where she had been hurt. Now she knew—her hands were stinging horribly, and her legs felt strangely raw.
"Take it slowly, little one."
Aerith was startled at the small term of endearment that fell from his lips, inhaling a quick breath of air that nearly made her choke. Trying to ignore how much she ached, she tried again, her words halting and clumsy. "Sector Five…do you know…the little market?"
"Yes."
"East…from there…is a house, with flowers. Please…" She said softly, her strength continuing to failing her. Even through her closed eyes, spots still dotted her lids, making her dizzy. She was feeling so, so tired. And what a waste—she had met an angelic creature, like the ones in the stories Mom used to tell her, and couldn't even find the energy to speak to him. "Please…"
And how she longed to hear his voice some more…soon the dream would end and she would wake up in reality…there weren't any people as wonderful and beautiful in reality…
"Rest. You'll soon be there."
She couldn't stop the tiny smile that naturally gifted her lips upon his words.
"Thank…thank you."
Though she couldn't see it, upon hearing her whispered thanks, a brief look of surprise crossed her dark seraph's face. Aerith sighed quietly as she felt her awareness of the world slowly begin to fade away, her last thought being of distressed regret, for she didn't think she would ever see this being again.
With the prospect of green eyes and moonlit skin haunting her dreams, Aerith fell away into the emptiness of unconsciousness.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sephiroth quickly stood up, the petite body of the girl securely encased in his arms. He had enough information to get her home now—he wouldn't have to waste any more time here.
He glanced down at her as he strode out of the alley, remembering her gentle, pained voice and her softly spoken gratitude. It had been a voice of unadulterated innocence, the likes of which he had never heard before.
He remembered her smile, for despite its smallness it lacked the superficiality that characterized so many other people's—he had clearly been correct in assuming she was one to be constantly wearing a smile of some sorts. It had been practiced, easy, uncaring of who she bestowed it upon…
He shook his head cynically, wondering if she had even recognized who he was through her delirious pain. Most people were usually more concerned with getting away from him with their lives intact rather than thanking him, after all.
How truly odd…
Sephiroth shook his head, ignoring the direction his thoughts were heading in. Well, it wasn't his concern. He wouldn't see her again after this night, regardless.
He navigated his way through the streets of the slums with ease, though his pace was slower and more careful, so as to not hurt the girl more than she already was. The market she spoke of wasn't, to his knowledge, extremely far away—it shouldn't take more than the span of a few minutes to reach it and then proceed to her house.
Though he wasn't overly worried about the monsters in the area, Sephiroth still kept his sense keenly attuned on his surroundings, his catlike eyes taking in each and every shift of the shadows. The girl was a liability, for if they were attacked it was going to provide a bit of a challenge to fight with her in his arms.
He smirked. But not impossible. Maybe just a minor hindrance.
…
…
…
…
He stopped once when he finally came upon the girl's house, as per her vague directions. It was a highly…unusual structure to be found within the slums, he observed, his keen eyes missing nothing. It was a quaint little house, tucked away in a garden full of white and yellow flowers.
The flowers were what captured his attention the most.
How unusual. He didn't think that any plant life could even be kept alive in Midgar, let alone grown. What was so unique about this section of Midgar?
The lights of the house were shining brightly, so obviously whoever the girl lived with was waiting for her to come home. He shifted her in his arms, and moved cautiously towards the house. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten whoever was in there with his surprise appearance.
After all, General Sephiroth arriving, uninvited and unexpected, at the late hours of the night usually meant whoever he was paying a visit to was going to lose their life. Or their sanity. Whichever came first.
His boots made heavy imprints in the dirt as he walked up to the front door, stirring up the dust.
Quickly, Sephiroth raised a fist, knocking firmly on the door.
He waited for a moment, then raised a hand to knock again—
Only to hastily pull away as the door was flung open, and a figure emerged from the house.
It was an older woman, perhaps in her early forties, with brown hair tied up in a bun and clothed in a housedress. Sephiroth could only assume that it was the girl's mother, even though they didn't share much physical similarity. The girl was slim and petite, this woman was stocky and had a weathered face.
He waited impatiently for her to notice the human in his arms.
The woman's eyes fell on him in confusion first, and, predictably, seemed to be startled at who was at her door. "Yes? How can I—Aerith!" Sephiroth sighed as the woman let out a shrill cry and threw herself at him, clearly aiming to get to the little female currently in his grasp.
Dammit. He didn't want to be mauled by an emotional woman. He had no idea how to deal with this sort of thing—that was Genesis' area of expertise, the most openly charismatic and utterly smooth-talking one of the three friends. If he could just cut off her panic… "Ma'am—"
To his displeasure he was interrupted by a series of frantic questions. "Is she hurt? Is she alright? Oh, wherever did you find her?"
"She's fine—"
"I keep telling her not to stay at that church of hers for so long!"
"If I could just—"
"—what I'm going to tell that girl when she wakes up—is that blood?"
"It's only—"
"Oh." The woman stared hard at him, as though seeing him for the first time. Hastily, she stepped aside, pushing the front door wider to accompany his size. "Please, bring her in quickly."
Sephiroth had to forcibly stop the irritation from leaping onto his face, succeeding in maintaining his stoic mask. Being ignored like that was a rather…novel event. Not many people ignored Sephiroth and lived to tell the tale, seeing as it was never a wise idea to ignore a six foot five man renown for his swordsmanship. Nevertheless, he followed the woman as she led him into the house.
He felt distinctly uncomfortable as he laid the girl down on a small couch positioned near the front door, as the atmosphere inside was so cheery and warm. There were brightly colored rugs and curtains, and a warm fire was crackling in the stove in the kitchen. Behind him, the lady was fussing about, turning on lamps and rummaging through shelves and cabinets.
Sephiroth, understandably, was unsure of what to do with himself in such a place, having never had a home of his own before. The closest he had ever been to having one was when he had visited Genesis' and Angeal's houses in Banora. The warmth, the obvious love and tender care, was making him uneasy and out of place.
The elder woman was already attending to the teenage girl on the couch, a little first-aid kit lying open at her side. He smirked a little at how blatantly ignored he was being, though it really had no effect on him. It was understandable that a mother would be concerned over her child coming home in such a state, or so he had heard. Clearly, he wasn't needed anymore, so it should be alright to just take his leave now.
Fully intending to get away unnoticed, he had reached the door quietly and had started to slip out when he was interrupted by the woman.
"I'm sorry, I've been ignoring you. It was terribly rude of me. But thank you so much for bringing my daughter home."
"It was nothing."
"Well…thank you all the same." Sephiroth almost blinked in confusion when the woman turned to him from where she was kneeling, looking at him with concern. "Are you hurt, young man? Do you need anything before you go?"
Young man? Sephiroth nearly snorted at that. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember a time when anyone had treated him like a child, much less called him that. Still, he couldn't find it in him to be rude to someone who looked as though she honestly cared.
"Ah…no. I'm not in need of anything."
The woman nodded, and then switched her attention back to patching her daughter up. "I can't thank you enough for what you did. She's my treasure." Sephiroth glanced down to where the girl lay, her skin already appearing rosy and healthier in the light of the fire and the care of her mother. "Truly. Aerith and I are indebted to you."
Sephiroth strode towards the back of the house with his catlike footsteps, quickly stepping towards the door again and this time making it without interruption. "That is not necessary."
Startled, Elmyra turned once again, her mouth open to reply to his rather hard statement.
She was met with an empty room, save for herself and the unconscious girl draped on the couch before her.
So, this is my first fanfic regarding the Final Fantasy VII universe. I've been a fan of it for a long time, so I guess it was only a matter of time before my love of it resulted in a fanfiction hehe ^_^. So…it's set in the Crisis Core universe, a little before, after, and during, and will be following canon for the most part. The only different thing, of course, is that it is a Sephiroth/Aerith story. This originally came from the idea that Sephiroth was first designed to be Aerith's first love, rather than Zack. I no lie, you can look it up on the fansites where they have all the interviews with the creators and what not :-) . Darn, AeriSeph came so close to being canon! :P
So, please review, I'd like to know what people think of the story, and if I should continue with it. Thanks!