Le gasp and a half, it's back again! I've been essentially dead to the fanfiction world for what, a year or more, maybe? And now I've written and posted three separate fanfics within a month of eachother? With more on the way? What in the world is going on here?! ...Simple, really. Sephiroth has breathed new life into my dying muse - which is why two of the three and almost all of the upcoming are focused on him. And the only one that's not is centered around Vincent XD What can I say? I love me the Valentines ^^
So, with my ranting finished, welcome to my newest chapter fic, Heart of Wutai. Unlike most chapter fics I write, I'm only planning on this one having four or five chapters, maaaybe six, but I'm not entirely certain on that point. In any case, it's not going to be one of those 20+ chapters monstrosities that I still need to finish. *hangs head in shame* Now then. As I can't write and usually can't read without music, I feel the need to inform you all what was going on in my head while this was being created. I had one song on repeat all the way up until the line break, and that song was One Last Letter by Aviators, featuring Bronyfied. For those making faces, the lyrics were completely ignored, as I was focusing solely on the feel of the music. You can find it on YouTube pretty easily, and I very much recommend doing so :) Now, please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sephiroth or anything else you recognize from Final Fantasy VII. *sighs heavily* And it's probably a good thing I don't.
The sun beat down on the surface of the Planet, its rays of light scorching like fire - indeed, much like the fires, SOLDIER Second Class Sephiroth thought to himself as he watched the flames devour the enemy's fortifications. The acrid stench of burning hair and flesh permeated the once clear air that circulated through this place.
Wutai, he thought, casting a quick glance at his surroundings before refocusing his attention on the burning camp. The only 'free' nation left on Gaia. This is what becomes of those who will not be subjugated... as they would know, had they ever studied this world's history. Sephiroth did not let out a hushed sigh, and even if he had, it would have been unnoticeable to the rest of his squadron; none the wiser but himself. The Wutaian people were indeed a free-spirited people, despite the strict rules of their culture. Intelligence was not something the majority of them were lacking in, however, and those he had met in negotiations seemed reasonable enough. He failed to see, then, why they would insist on defying what was bound to happen, why perfectly competent men who could speak so calmly in meetings with President Shinra would turn right around and declare war as soon as they had returned to their homeland.
Though thoughts such as these were nothing new, Sephiroth had never voiced a one of them to anyone. His upbringing had taught him one thing, at the very least - to those who might be in possession of the answers he sought, he was viewed as tool; some hammer they could bring down on those they wished to smash or reforge on their figurative anvil. Save the deep but infrequent conversations he had begun to participate in with Angeal Hewley, occasionally joined by Genesis Rhapsodos, silence was Sephiroth's immutable policy on important matters.
The wind gusted once, powerfully, sending Sephiroth's unusually long hair whipping about his face; next to the anguished scream, it was the only warning they received. He whirled about immediately, already shifting to a defensive stance, the steel of his newly acquired blade flashing in the harsh sunlight. The earth trembled both from the deep, rumbling roar and the impact of creature's landing as the dragon slammed its hind feet into the ground, wasting no time in laying about itself, thrashing SOLDIERs with its powerful, spiked tail and spitting out quick jets of flame. It didn't take long for it to drop to all fours, still attacking with that lethal tail and adding in slashes with its front claws.
Battle cries sounded from all around the silver-haired teen, as his commanding officer ordered the other men forward. He was meant to obey as well, but hung back, narrowed eyes flitting about, filing every one of the dragon's attacks into the part of his mind that allowed him to create such flawless strategies as he had been seen implementing from the war's beginning. While the others were batted aside, few landing a blow at all and almost none causing any damage to the beast, Sephiroth was studying, contemplating, formulating. The enormous dragon - obviously mutated in some way, for no other Wutaian dragon had ever been that size outside the people's ancient legends - seemed to follow a pattern of attacks: rearing back and raising up to breathe fire, slamming back down and causing quakes as efficiently as any materia, whipping its tail back and forth and raking its sword-like claws through the air. Sephiroth watched for a moment more, ensuring that he was correct, then rushed at his foe, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He was little more than a blur of solid black and fluid silver as he flew towards the dragon, deftly jumping over and around the obstacles that were his comrades-in-arms. A cheer, admittedly sounding more like a roar, was raised as two or three of the other SOLDIERs realized it was he who had blown past them, clearly heading to vanquish this foul beast. It came as little surprise to Sephiroth when the dragon answered the sound with another bellow of its own, responding angrily to what it perceived as a challenge. Though it was usually something he looked down on - what need was there to yell, really? - the battles this week had seen his opinion on the matter shifting, and he allowed himself a powerful shout as he brought the Masamune down against the dragon's claw in a ringing blow. The shockwaves that traveled up his arms from the sheer force of the clash awoke in him a battle instinct, a greater rush of energy than mere adrenaline could ever hope to achieve, and he threw himself at the creature. The thin, folded steel of his weapon become akin to a whirlwind as he spun around, dodging the dragon's every attempt to injure him while slashing at its less-defended areas, under its 'arms' and along its stomach; his opponent roared in anger and pain, shifting its position, obviously preparing to unleash a more vicious attack. He felt himself smirk.
The dragon lashed out at him with its tail, and Sephiroth leapt into the air to avoid it, flicking his left wrist so that the blade in his hand bit at the beast's face, near its snout. Yet another thunderous sound left its throat. Sephiroth could see the ground beneath him shake. A rush of wind not dissimilar to the first buffetted him suddenly; the dragon had spread its wings, displacing the air in its vicinity and thus displacing the fifteen year-old, whose face instantly contorted into a severe frown. Time slowed, and he watched the dragon bend its hind legs, clearly preparing to spring off the ground, the enormous wings stretching out and angling slightly skyward. The thing was going to fly, and considering that very few of the SOLDIERs in this unit had any sort of proficiency with firearms, the grassy ridge on which they stood could easily be reduced to the same state as the fortress it allowed them overlook. He would have to end this, he decided, before any more carnage occurred. Thus, feeling as though he had had ample time to plot his next move though in reality only a few seconds had passed, Sephiroth managed to manuever himself nearer to the dragon and latch onto its right wing. The leathery appendage was surprisingly sturdy - more proof in his eyes that the creature had been altered - and though the dragon thrashed wildly in an attempt to dislodge him, Sephiroth was able to swing himself towards the broad, scaly back of the emerald animal.
As soon as his weight vanished from its wing, the now furious dragon launched itself into the air. Though he would scarcely admit it even to himself, the breath was knocked from Sephiroth's chest as he slammed into its back, narrowly avoiding spines such as those decorating the tail of the monster. A brief, involuntary hiss out pain escaped the newly-promoted Second as he fought with the rushing wind to rise into a position he could actually use. The ridges that had but a moment ago threatened to impale him were revealed to be a boon; he hauled himself up with his right hand, his grip on both the dragon and the Masamune comparable to a vice. Carefully but by no means slowly, Sephiroth made his way along the animal's back, feeling as though he were on a ship in the most violent of seas. Fortunately, balance had never presented much of a problem to him, and so despite the tumultuous movement he approached the dragon's head, his blade at the ready.
Holding tightly to a shorter spine near the beast's shoulders, Sephiroth narrowed his eyes as he took his aim, his focus on an extremely small space where the scales connected; if he drove the point of the Masamune straight in, it should slide easily through the hide and into the brain of the animal, killing it quickly. He waited for another moment, eyes closed, feeling the way the dragon's body undulated until he was confident that he could perform the task ahead. Any mutated creature constituted a threat, as it could not be said with any surety that they would react to things the way their unaltered kin did, and Sephiroth did not want anything more to go wrong as a result of this dragon. He had taken note as he dashed toward it on the ground of how many men had fallen to it, and though several had simply been injured, the count was sufficient cause for alarm. Not that Sephiroth felt any. Their commanding officer and the rest of Shinra would, however, and so he raised the monstrous katana, aiming it directly at the spot he'd selected. The dragon's body surged up through the wind, and as it began to dip back downward, he struck.
Sephiroth's glowing eyes widened, shock registering in them and across his face as he fell backward, though he righted himself in very short order by grabbing onto the shoulder-spike. It bounced off, he thought, pointedly not letting his jaw drop. The point of his sword had been angled precisely at the space between the scales. It should have gone in effortlessly! Instead, he had watched in complete amazement as his blade - the Masamune, which could cut through a door of solid steel! - simply bounced off the creature harmlessly, leaving it completely unscathed. And angry, he realized as a furious roar issued from the monstrosity's mouth. He was knocked off balance once again when it abruptly folded its wings and went into a steep dive. Holding almost desperately to the wrapped hilt of the Masamune, Sephiroth seized an even smaller spike with his right hand, the one he'd held before out now of his reach, and did his best to entwine his right leg between two behind him. The bottom of his left boot was too slick to give him any traction, but he fought nonetheless to find some sort of purchase on the dark green scales. The wind rushed intolerably loudly in his ears, Masamune singing as it fell through the air. Silver strands whipped all about, obscuring his vision at times and stinging his face at others. Growling deeply in his throat, Sephiroth tensed his right shoulder, taking a breath before attempting to haul himself forward.
His muscles screamed in protest - or would have, had he not been filled to the brim with the rush of battle, the heat surging through his entire body like no other thrill could. As it was, they welcomed the challenge, straining to support his weight as he pulled himself nearer to the dragon's head, inch by impossible inch. His boots slipped regularly as he tried to crawl, constantly fighting to keep himself pressed to the scaly armor rather than flapping like a pennant in the wind. Over the beast's side, he caught a glimpse of jagged stone. Mountains?, he wondered briefly before dismissing the thought to focus again on the task at hand. His speed was almost nonexistent, but the fact remained that he was making progress, slowly triumphing over the combined factors of the wind and the dragon's increasingly erratic flight patterns. From time to time the creature spun, wild corkscrews in an attempt to dislodge him; when it failed to work, it would flap its wings and climb almost vertically into the sky before folding them back to its sides and repeating the process.
At long last, Sephiroth was nearly back where he had started, close to the back of his adversary's head. Despite his excellent physical condition, the fifteen year-old was breathing hard, his heart pumping madly to get the blood flowing to his half-frozen limbs; the altitudes the dragon had reached coupled with the bite of the wind had done a number on him, whether he allowed himself to feel it at the moment or not. Green eyes narrowed in concentration as Sephiroth moved his left arm into position, the force of the air rushing past him working to rip the massive weapon from his hand. The dragon unfurled its wings and pulled up out of its dive, coasting horizontally for a moment. A quick glance downward revealed green-covered earth below them, no boulders of cliffs in sight. The dragon flapped once, preparing to ascend yet again. Roaring his own displeasure at the situation, Sephiroth struck, the Masamune whistling through the air to slice cleanly into the monster's leathery wings.
A scream issued from both their throats as the dragon lost both blood and its balance, fumbling to right itself and failing miserably as its left wing hung useless at its side, the partially severed half making a sickening flapping noise as they hurtled toward the earth. Sephiroth braced himself for the impact they were sure to make, gritting his teeth. The dragon thrashed wildly, its right wing working in a furious attempt to regain control of their literal downfall. Though they had been far, far above the Planet's surface, it took mere moments for them to reach it again. Seconds before the creature's body came into contact with the ground, Sephiroth forced his limbs into motion, leaping up into the air. The emerald mutant crashed down with a screech of pain, totaling the land beneath it as it skidded across the grassy expanse, its spines and body digging in and leaving a deep, uneven trench in its wake.
Off to the side and far behind, Sephiroth had managed to land, if jarringly, on his feet, and had immediately pushed his body forward again, determinedly chasing after the beast. He was only slightly disappointed when, upon reaching it, he found that it had been rather damaged in the fall. Its scales, apparently softer underneath, were scuffed and dirtied from plowing through the dirt, and blood was seeping from several spots that appeared to have been rubbed raw. It still roared at him when its enormous eyes came into focus, but otherwise did not threaten him. Sephiroth felt his eyes narrow and his forehead crease as he raised his sword, purposefully ignoring the emotion welling up inside him. This creature had not asked to be altered the way it had. More than likely its attack on his unit had been out of some animalistic sense of being threatened by their presence, or a basic territorial instinct. From where he stood, nothing this dragon had done seemed to have been in cold blood, and though he cursed himself silently, Sephiroth could not bring himself to end its life in such a way. It would be quicker not to cut its throat anyway, he reasoned, cursing again at the remorse shining in his eyes as he plunged his steel through one of the dragon's.
With a heavy sigh that he did not bother trying to hide, Sephiroth withdrew the blade, the light in the animal's eyes having darkened. It was dead. Acting solely out of habit, he pulled a cloth out of the pocket of his coat, bringing it to the Masamune's blade to clean the blood from its surface. He gasped involuntarily as his shaking fingers, still stiff and cold from his trek into the sky, met the edge of the sword; blood bloomed an impossibly vibrant crimson against the ghostly pallor of his skin. Growling lowly in the back of his throat, Sephiroth extended his right hand toward the dragon's corpse, shivering and despising it as he called forth the power of the glowing orb nestled in the slot on his bracer. He felt his energy level get lower, but paid it little heed, knowing he would recover in short order, focusing instead on the flames that, at his urging, were beginning to overtake the form of his enemy. Within a short time, he stood beside a blazing bonfire that served not only to thaw him out, but as a signal for his companions as to his location.
Sephiroth almost started at that thought, mentally berating himself as he scanned his current surroundings for any sign of them. How could he have been so stupid?! He'd never made the mistake of losing track of them before! Had the cold numbed his brain as well? Fingers that had at last gotten comfortably warm again combed briefly through silver tresses before tossing them over a black-clad shoulder. It wasn't likely. He had simply allowed himself to get too carried away in his battle with the dragon, and now... His eyes beheld scenery that was entirely unfamiliar to them, though he realized after a moment, a grim expression forming on his face, that the steep, rocky mountains to the southwest of him had once been to the northeast. The dragon had flown him over them - it was no wonder, then, that he'd been so cold; several of the peaks were clouded, but the snow sitting atop them could still be easily perceived.
Another sigh grudgingly left his mouth, this one decidedly resigned as he considered the facts. He was alone. The rest of his unit was far across the mountains, inaccessible to him. The smoke from the burning corpse was likely garnering the attention of the Wutaians rather than other SOLDIER operatives. And there was absolutely nothing for it but to start traveling and hope that he could make it somewhere closer to his or another squad before he was discovered by the enemy's forces. In a way, he supposed that it couldn't have been avoided; after all, he had most certainly not been in control of the creature he'd killed, and given that no one in his squad had been carrying a ranged weapon, his method had likely been the only way to get rid of the thing. He glanced up at the body from his position in the grass, where he sat cleaning the gore from his sword. The smell it gave off was horrendous, and he could see it blackening as the flames licked at it hungrily. Even given his natural proficiency with materia, it had taken an unusual amount of effort to set it aflame. Whatever alterations had been made to it had clearly made it somewhat resistant to magic. If his comrades, with their sloppy techniques wielding spells, had attempted to bring the dragon down with their own materia, they'd have only succeeded in killing one another while the beast looked on. A wry smile curved his lips as he envisioned it: he and the dragon, standing on opposite sides of the battlefield, watching and casting one another amused glances from time to time as the magic-deficient Seconds fried eachother.
When the magic-induced flames began to run out of flesh to burn, Sephiroth rose to his feet and returned the Masamune to its sheath, looking over the landscape with a critical eye. He had a vague idea of where he was from the maps of the island he had studied, but when seeing it in person, much of Wutai looked the same, so he couldn't be confident that he was correct. Nonetheless, he started off, plotting a course in his mind's eye that should take him around the normally uncrossable mountains. The journey should not take more than a few days if he kept his pace steady - a good thing, as he did not have an overabundance of supplies. His items were still in his possession, including, he had found with a grimace, the packets containing that hideous excuse for food Shinra provided them with while in the field. One of these days, he was going to have to do something about them; he was rising swiftly through the ranks of the army, and it could not be long before he was promoted to First Class. With any luck, that would provide him a chance to fix things somewhat for the lower classes. The Firsts 'in charge' now had decided to laugh and revel in the amenities they had been granted rather than use their influence to do their comrades any kindnesses.
Petty people should never be granted a position of power, Sephiroth groused, quickening his stride. Most likely it had been caused by more of the Wutaian monster population, but there was a strange sound coming from nearby, and if it was other humans, he might be be able to save himself the trek around the mountains' base. It only leads to someone else's suffering. The sounds were getting closer, and Sephiroth pushed his musings to the back of his mind, unconsciously shifting his stance and beginning to stalk towards the origin rather than walk, his heavy boots making no sound against the earth.
The moon was but a sliver in the sky, the stars scattered around it almost seeming brighter than the night's primary source of light. Sephiroth lay on his back, arms behind his head, the Masamune on the ground beside him in such a position that the hilt was in easy reach. Not that he expected to need it. The teen rolled his eyes slightly. As he'd thought, he was virtually alone in the wilderness, the Wutaian fauna his only companion. After dispatching the small flock of Thunder Birds, Sephiroth had continued on his path, stopping only when he could no longer deny that he was hungry. After choking down some of the almost inedible rations, he had decided to stop for the night. The mako injections had granted him improved eyesight, and he could have kept moving, but didn't see much point in it. Unlike certain beasts prowling around Midgar, the Wutaian monsters seemed to retire with the sun, leaving him with little risk of being attacked. He had seen no signs of human habitation anywhere nearby, so an attack from the Wutaian people was not looking any more likely. Sephiroth shifted his position, resting his head on his right hand, and bringing his left to rest somewhere nearer to his blade. No matter what the odds, caution was never a bad thing, he thought before he let his eyes slide closed.
The next day brought more of the same: Sephiroth traveled in solitude, offing the monsters that dared to attack him and 'keeping his eyes peeled', as Angeal had said once, though Sephiroth hadn't really understood the phrase, for any signs that was not the only human in the vicinity. The leather clothes he wore became less than desirable as the heat of the sun bore down on him, the Wutaian humidity only serving to worsen both the situation and his mood. Muttering darkly about the necessity of it, he had stopped briefly to dig around in his bag of items, pulling out a black shirt that could serve as a shield between his skin and the unpleasant interior of his coat. He yanked it on over his head, becoming severely irritated with his predicament. Why couldn't they be waging a war on the Northern Continent? Cold, he could handle. Heat, as he was learning, he could not. His sleep was broken and disjointed that night as the cool winds did their best to chill him, slipping malevolently across his damp skin.
Upon awakening stiff and unhappy the next morning, Sephiroth was even less pleased to discover that his item bag had somehow developed a hole; thinking back, he could remember the exact moment it had happened, the claw of a creature having ripped the fabric as it lunged past him from behind. Though he had killed it not an instant later, the damage had been done, and Sephiroth had assumed that it was his coat that had taken the abuse. Growling, he stuffed the bag and its meager contents (which amounted to a grand total of three MREs, two hi-potions, and an ether) into his coat pocket. At least if anything else fell out while he was traveling it would land in his pocket, he thought sourly. He largely hated himself for it, but in light of all that had happened, he was forced to admit that Professor Hojo was right for once. He was a foolish child. No man would have made the kind or amount of idiotic mistakes he had in the last few days.
A shadow hung over Sephiroth's heart and mind as he set off once more, forgoing anything for breakfast now that his supplies were so limited. He could survive on one meal a day, particularly since he had only been eating two before. As long as he didn't fight any more dragons, he thought darkly, he should still be able to reach a Shinra outpost or checkpoint before he ran out of food. Then again, maybe a dragon was just what he needed. Another mutated beast might ferry him back across the mountain range, and this time, he would know how to kill it. Giving in to an angry, childish impulse, Sephiroth began kicking at rocks he found in his path, measuring how far he could launch them and finding an odd satisfaction in hearing them break apart when they landed. Mako injections. They did do wonders.
A frown flitted across his face when the last rock he kicked did not shatter like the rest. What-? His thoughts were interrupted before they'd even had a chance to get started by the sound of the stone's belated demise reaching his ears. Sephiroth moved at a jog around the corner; his chosen path had led him into a twisting pass between the mountains, and he had expected the rock to smash into the mountainside like all the rest. When he got to the place he had calculated the rock would hit, he saw why it hadn't.
The wall of the mountains had fallen away, opening up onto a sort of plateau. An uneven, weathered path, clearly carved by runoff from the craggy peaks during rains, led down the cliffside into a valley. Sephiroth frowned as his eyes scanned it. He hadn't been expecting this. He flicked through his inventory of mental maps, searching for the valley, but found nothing; many of Shinra's maps of the Wutai area were vague and hardly helpful. Holding back an aggravated noise, he glanced around again, and this time his eyes narrowed. There was smoke rising from somewhere down below. As this section of Wutai was rather wooded, he couldn't tell what the source of the smoke rising over the trees was. He shifted, feeling the Masamune's familiar heavy weight center him. More alert than he had been before, Sephiroth headed down the incline. Upon reaching the bottom some fifteen minutes later, he cast a glance around. There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see, and so, jogging once again, he turned in the direction of the smoke, wondering vaguely what would be waiting for him when he found its source.
~.~.~.~
The sound that left Sephiroth's throat was something of a mixture between a sigh and a growl. Before him lay the blackened bones of a ruined village. Off to the side of it was a mound of dirt that was clearly a mass grave, more than likely filled with bodies of whatever Wutaians had died here. Most in Shinra would have had no problem whatsoever with leaving the bodies for scavenging monsters, but they had standing orders not to do so, as the infantrymen, lacking SOLDIER enhancements, tended not to fare so well against the varieties of beasts such carnage drew the attention of. The sigh/growl threatened to escape again, but Sephiroth stopped it before it passed his lips, turning away from the smoldering settlement with disgust. There was nothing he could do about it now, and little he could have done in any case had he been there before it was torched. Sephiroth released the tension that had been building in his muscles as he approached the smoke's source. There was no threat to him here. Given that the place was still very warm, though, Shinra might be somewhere nearby, and so Sephiroth started to the west, following faint impressions of boots in the hard ground.
Judging from the sun's position in the sky, it was shortly past midday when Sephiroth, still on the trail of whomever had left the tracks, heard a small sound. Someone is following me, he thought, taking care not to change anything about the way he was moving. If they didn't know he was aware of them, he would have a slight advantage when they tried to leap out of the greenery at him. For whoever it was tailing him was making their way through the small trees and bushes to his right, not so much keeping pace with him as lagging behind, though clearly trying to keep him in sight. The thought crossed his mind that it may be an animal or beast of some sort that had yet to gather the courage to come at him, but he dismissed it almost instantly, knowing somehow that his follower was human.
He went on for several minutes, listening with a slight scowl as his inexperienced stalker stumbled along in his wake, unable to keep from wondering who on Gaia this sloppy person was. The amount of noise they were making was ridiculous. At last, deciding that this had continued for long enough, Sephiroth sprang into action. In one fluid motion, he had spun to face the shrubs and the person hiding within them, drawing the Masamune out of its sheath and pointing it in their direction. His actions were rewarded with a startled squeal, followed by a stream of high-pitched, nearly unintelligible Wutaian.
Sephiroth very pointedly made a habit of not revealing his emotions to other people. Even Angeal and Genesis, whom he had tentatively begun to think of as 'friends' rarely saw any indication how he was feeling. However, upon lowering his katana and coming face-to-face with big, dark eyes set in a small, pale face, he could not keep his own eyes from widening in shock. The child babbled at him again, scooting away from his sword, and Sephiroth's emotional dam came close to bursting.
"No," he said aloud, as though it would banish her from his sight. "No!" he repeated angrily when nothing of the sort happened.
It just HAD to get worse.
Et... voila! ;) Sephiroth is so much fun to work with when he's younger. I apologize if he seems a bit out of character, but personally, I don't care if you ARE Sephiroth; if you're a fifteen year-old boy, you have emotions. A lot of them. Thus my reasoning behind his behavior. Anyways. Sooo, what do you think? Good bad yes no? I can't wait to get to work on the next chapter, but I hope I'm not the only one enjoying this. In any case, I'd be glad to know your thoughts, so drop me a review if you've got the time or the inclination. And before you ask: no, it's not Yuffie ;P Just a random kid I made up. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed yourselves!
~destinykeyblade