Notes: Not mine, obviously. Inspired and dedicated to SF. Allusions to TsengxSephiroth, Rufus is about twelve. Part of the larger ongoing arc Finding Beauty and I shall never finish.


Pastime

The boy is a skilled chess player despite his small quirks that often give away his moves. He always chooses to be white, moves his knight first, and attacks with his queen. It is nonetheless fascinating to watch him once and again defeat the great General Sephiroth. Letting the boy win, Sephiroth would tell others, but he finds himself once again bested by the young ShinRa heir.

'You've been practicing,' he observes, moving to replace the pieces for another match.

'I had a very skilled teacher,' the boy returns, almost smiling as he does. He enjoys this company, and the undivided attention he gets from the general whenever they engage in such matches, and Sephiroth cannot help but return the slightest of smiles as he thinks of how Rufus has progressed.

'If you continue this way, perhaps, I should find a use for you on the battlefield.'

Rufus makes a small sound in the back of his throat, too dignified to truly laugh, his hand sweeping out to take the first of Sephiroth's pawns.

Flattery, something Sephiroth has learned the boy enjoys likely because he has never heard such words of encouragement from his father. A foolish mistake, Rufus is very intelligent for his age, perhaps too intelligent. He thinks for a moment that he should have found a more suitable pastime for the child; something that would not further set him apart from his age. He supposes it doesn't matter. In the end, Rufus has been raised for one thing only. To rule ShinRa, and the president had sent the general to his son for the sole purpose of teaching him discipline. He had overlooked the fact that Rufus might enjoy the company.

'General,' the words break both their concentration, and shatters this small world of calm contentedness

Rufus looks up. A Turk. He's seen him in the halls: tall, deadly, with the sleek grace of a cat. Fascinating, those men with shiny pistols, and a lifestyle often glamorised.

'Tseng,' Sephiroth breathes, hand withdrawing from his rook, the utter formality of the encounter lost as cat-like eyes meet glittering black.

Just because he is young, does not make him stupid. He knows what that look means, and quickly finds himself suddenly jealous because this Turk is taking away his chess partner. This Turk is more important to the General, more important than him—

The Turk glances to the boy for the first time, eyes dark and unreadable. Rufus stares back, barely concealed fury raging in blue eyes, wanting to say something, anything, to tell this Turk that he will have to wait because no one steals Rufus Shinra's playmate. And Tseng raises one perfect dark eyebrow in challenge.

Rufus' hand goes white, tightly clenched around a pawn, but he says nothing.

'General?' the Turk asks with the barest of impatience, his eyes never leaving Rufus'.

'Forgive me, Rufus. It appears I am needed elsewhere,' he doesn't bother to look at Tseng as he rises fluidly from his seat and offers the boy a slight nod of respect. 'We'll have to continue our game later.'

'Of course,' comes the cool reply, light eyes at last leaving the Turk to settle on the general once more.

And then Sephiroth sees it, the hint of jealousy. The barest blossom of something that could in time prove dangerous. Yes, he should have found a more suitable pastime for the boy, something that didn't involve scheming.

Tseng is out the door by the time Sephiroth tears his gaze away from Rufus, and he lingers a moment longer.

Rufus sits in the quiet aftermath itching to throw the pawn still clenched in his hand, and takes several calming breaths before gently setting the chess piece back onto the board to finish his game.

One day, he determines, he will not be so easily ignored.

fin