From Sixth: I felt like rewriting this because I guess the first version was dumb or something. The first versions of things are always dumb, aren't they? Anyways, it may seem crude and convoluted but I tried to smooth it as best I could with a fine toothed comb, all on my own. Naw'mean? And it'll suit me nicely until I get "better" and will want to perfect it even more. Or get a beta, whatever.

I feel so rusty. I began rewriting back in September and I just now finished it within the last three days or so, I dunno, I can't tell time. If that ain't procrastination of biblical proportions (exaggeration ahoy), I dunno what is. Well, it's not that so much as...motivation.

Because motivation... I hasn't it.

Also, Final Fantasy VII? I hasn't that, either. It should be fairly obvious, otherwise I wouldn't be here writing stuff. I'd be off making vidja gaems. And that be my disclaimer.

P.S.: One last thing, this one-shot is second in a trifecta of sorts, its entirety being Sephiroth's Christmas, Thanks/Thanks Again, and Lick of Innocence, in that order. Take that into consideration however you will. I'd almost think they were standalones, so potential readers needn't go out of their way to humor me and READ the rest just 'cuz I mentioned that. But they are all connected in the grand scheme of things. Just so you know~ The more you know~

- -

Winning wasn't about recognition or money. It wasn't about the triumph which he helped clinch for Shinra in the Wutai War. It wasn't about the show of strength or dominion.

In essence it concerned not a single thing.

Life would remain the same; still, he would drift on and on, thoughtlessly. The world felt less like a river than a machine: cold, routine, and systematic to the bitter end. Yet he didn't care. All he could do— all he would do— was live his given life, and live it to the best of whatever his ability might be, whilst waiting for no particular end. Or any end, at all. He'd live like a machine, Shinra-approved and manufactured.

Shinra-bound.

- - - - - -

The port-city of Junon was seasonably alive with the revelry and plans of festivities to come. The concrete streets bustled crazily with preparations for the homecoming and victory parades. Countless banners and streamers hung off the sides of buildings; lampposts stood adorned with humongous red ribbons; flags flapped in the idle sea breezes while raised to half-mast, emblazoned with the proud logo of the Shinra Weapons Manufacturing and Electric Power company. Military personnel scrambled here and there, mapping out courses for the impending displays. Soldiers in and out of uniform drilled and marched with vigor in the streets.

Sephiroth, himself a soldier, was not among them.

A marked Shinra jeep ferried him north through town. As he'd been summoned to the head office, so he allowed two chattering, young privates to meet and greet him, to fawn and take his hands in over-adoration before ushering him into the salt-flecked vehicle. While plowing the short distance from one end of Junon to the other, their eager attempts to make conversation with the lauded hero fell short. He wasn't a man to utter more than a few words if any unless he saw fit. This was no exception.

Sephiroth sat in general silence, arms folded, knees slightly apart but feet firmly planted on the floor of the jeep. His catlike eyes burned a near vacant glare between his vibrant escorts' heads. Their nervousness when glancing back to see if the SOLDIER was still there was clear. But their sense of pride and triumph persevered.

Enthusiasm flowed on.

The afternoon sun scintillated in the gold streaked skies of Junon, its strong rays beating down against the windows of the high sloping building that was the port-city's branch of Shinra Headquarters. The bronzed exterior was befitting of such a center of industry and power, as was the gigantic Mako cannon mounted upon its frame, spanning to the west over the harbor.

"Here we are, Commander. Head office requests your presence, ASAP."

The jeep came to a full stop at the elevator complex within the underpass that cleft Lower Junon in two. Sephiroth had only nodded his silver-headed understanding before sliding out of the vehicle into a long, careful stride towards the platform. The operators awaited him, one all smiles, the other a half, beneath their helmets.

He mused thoughtfully as the elevator lifted him closer to his destination. But in reality, he hadn't that much to think about. His superiors weren't calling on him for anything important. As far as he was concerned. Everyone ran around focused on the war with Wutai, and what remained of it following Shinra's final coup d'état; as well, some niggling matters regarding SOLDIER roused the company's internal machinery as a means to quash them. But Sephiroth's role was too fixed for him to completely worry about other things.

He did his job, and when that was done, he'd do another. He was a good soldier. No resistance, few if any thoughts, quick to act with precision and severity according to the situation. If, in hearing this from someone else's lips, they would also say that he was the best. The best. His duty and prestige left no room to concern himself with others, much to his relief and little often dismay.

In the midst of his pondering, Sephiroth had hardly noticed the elevator stopping. It was only the rush of air and sudden view of the main lobby that roused him.

He sighed.

The main lobby, like the rest of town, was busier than he liked. These blue collared men and women skittered like ants between their desks, but chattered like riled apes. Yet, he maintained a steady posture, his usual smooth, wooden face, and made way to the stairs that would take him up to the head office.

She watched him with a careful, sneaky little pout. She could stare all she wanted, because in a place like this she didn't look so odd. No one heeded her presence much. At best, she was just another "child" of that madman.

They'd pity her and allow her momentary peace away from the usual horror.

"Mm-hmm." She bounced out of her seat and scattered quickly through the lobby towards the elevator in his wake. Junon's streets awaited her.

"Welcome, sir. You are cleared for entry."

Sephiroth bee-lined past armed security and pushed through steeled double-doors to the chambers beyond.

Along the way, the air began to smell thick with cigar smoke and fine cologne, tinged with a hint of cured, high-quality leather warmed by the sun. As he entered, the sun's glow overwhelmed him, the light creeping over inch after inch of the head office in geometric slants across the oriental rugs, no doubt spoils from earlier ventures into Wutai. And from a brief scan of eyes, bookshelves and glass-covered displays of fancy ornaments lined the walls. He exhaled sharply in remembrance of these sights and smells— sounds he found negligible— for having been in their presence since childhood.

Sephiroth grimaced.

"Ah, here's our shining star."

"Sir." He nodded his salute rather than throw his entire body into it. It was an informality he appreciated amongst his less than savory superiors, especially the short and burly uniformed man as he rose from a nearby leather-backed chair and waddled his way towards him.

"Gyahaha, at ease, soldier."

Heidegger was commander of Shinra's military power, otherwise sweetly known as the Department of Public Safety, and impromptu usurper of SOLDIER's direction. He was rotund, gruff, and rough around the edges. The man even sported a telltale scar over his right eye and the beginnings of a wily beard, lending something of a menacing air. To Sephiroth, himself, he was hardly menacing so much as eccentric. And that eccentricity aided his general incompetence; it was a wonder Shinra let him stay on their payroll.

"Now, you're wondering why you've been called here today, eh? Gyeheheh." Heidegger chuckled as he drew near Sephiroth's left side. He flicked the end of his bushy, brown beard and nodded to himself as if he'd just won a prize for some masterpiece he'd no hand in making. Typical. "As you may or may not have known, we kept tabs on certain soldiers whom we thought deserved a little more out of life. Heh."

"Should Heidegger ever happen to cut to the chase," a voice arose," he means to tell you that you are one of those men…of course."

Sephiroth was loath to acknowledge the additional presence.

Forgotten was his petty disregard of life and the living. Whatever unsolicited sense of superiority thrown his way by this weasel masquerading as a scientist was returned twofold. Save for his consistence in mad science, Hojo garnered no more respect from the soldier than a fly on the wall. And, if only it were so easy to swat him…

"Gya… I wanted to build up suspense, you greasy spoilsport—"

"Useless drivel."

"In any case," Heidegger rumbled, turning in a slow about-face to Sephiroth. He slapped a heavy paw on his armored shoulder, beaming a grin full of wan yellow teeth the result of countless cigars. "In any case… I would assume you knew this was inevitable. This is, after all, your one and only calling, gyaha. You've been bumped up to general, my man! If they haven't been before, your salary and benefits are tiered to the top, and perhaps bonuses abound in the immediate, foreseeable future, eh? Ha. There's nothing greater…below President Shinra and I, of course, gyehe."

"It is an honor, sir," Sephiroth replied in a low soldierly tone.

"It is quite the honor," Hojo felt compelled to reiterate. "For being the best of the best, nothing less is acceptable."

"Promotion ceremonies take place a week after homecoming where everything will be moved to Midgar."

"It's obvious that he can hardly contain his enthusiasm, nevertheless he's doing a good job," the scientist remarked, his nasal voice a touch sardonic. In the brief moment of silence that followed, he audibly pushed his spectacles up his broad wedge of a nose and folded his arms over each other in thoughtful hauteur.

- -

Sephiroth had been returned to the barracks following his meeting with Heidegger.

Or rather, he voluntarily returned halfway before jumping out of the still moving jeep. His slack-jawed escorts slowed to a crawl when they saw what he was going to do, then watched him nervously while parked in the middle of the street as he strode back to Junon's north end.

The sun set slowly, too slowly on the waters' western horizon. Sephiroth approached the enclosed concrete railing that separated the street from air. He gazed down below to the beach. The polluted beach. He saw as well as anyone what Junon was doing to the poor village upon which it was built. It wasn't his problem. All the same, it came as a shame to the soldier. Something as small and weak as this settlement to be crushed under Shinra's foot, it was a fair shame.

"Hm."

There was a tug on his leather-bound arm.

He twisted slowly to see who demanded his company all of a sudden.

At first, Sephiroth's eyes caught on empty space, which left him a little less than confused. The slightest movement flickered just below his line of sight, forcing him to step back.

It was a girl.

At first, it was just a girl. Sephiroth scoffed derisively that this waifish thing could get the better of him. By way of an impulse, he glowered at her, a dark gratuitous glower; but just as soon as that look had overcome his face, it faded to clear wonder. He tilted his head to one side and narrowed his feline eyes against the tiny frame of the girl that stood before him. There was something familiar about her. And it wasn't only her appearance that stirred this particular air between them, with hair and skin not unlike his.

"I've seen you before somewhere…"

A big smile beamed out of her face.

"…what do you want?"

She waved a hand at the soldier, unfazed by his suspicious glare. She even ventured reaching for Sephiroth's hand, which he quickly withdrew out of immediate surprise in her little action.

Don't you remember me? Has it been a really long time?

"What was that? You?"

The girl frowned and took a step back, a mirror to his reaction of her arrival out of thin air not moments ago. She shook her head and huffed, disheartened at the man. He could only return her youthful scowl with another. This exchange of familiarity was appalling. There were few, if any, that knew him on anything above the acquaintance level. Sephiroth was content to keep it that way.

"I must ask…who do you think you are?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He snorted and started to walk away.

Wait, don't go!

That infantile voice, as it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, was easy enough to shrug off. The cries of children he'd grown to ignore. Even his own in earlier days.

Are you still so bitter? I thought…you would have changed, if only a little bit…

Sephiroth's agitated departure slowed to a halt, his once tightly clenched fists now loosening. There had been a time when he was called bitter. He couldn't remember by whom, or even when…until now. It had to have been this very girl, of this he was sure. It was her. Or it was fairly possible. If so, then she hadn't changed in the decade or so since that cold, wintry day in Midgar, where they had both met under Hojo's lamentable care.

He glanced over his shoulder and down at the girl. Quietly, he asked, "What was your name… Drana, was it?"

You remembered! I'm so happy. I was scared you forgot me, even after what you did for me. You didn't get in trouble, did you?

The memory was blocked.

"I can't recall."

I…I'm sorry.

"Don't."

You wanna walk with me? I'd really like that … if you aren't busy.

Drana's eyes were unusually large for a child's. It might have been the angle at which he viewed her that tricked his own eyes. Down and askance. Innocence outlined in youth. That's what it was. And it unnerved him to an uncertain extent.

The soldier's glare came harsh. Were there ever a time when he felt threatened by the unknown, it was here, now, sealed in the form of this fragile looking little girl. Apprehension years in the making. He clenched his fists harder than before. The heavens help him if he had to fear the presence of creatures smaller and weaker than he. But she… Those eyes, that small echo of a voice, even that sickeningly sweet smile of one so far unsullied by the harsh elements of reality.

If only he could remain unfazed by the sight and sound of her, be as a mountain of intractable strength, then…

"Nngh."

"You …" Sephiroth glowered harder at Drana as she clung to his arm like some over-affectionate leech. This time, he didn't bother shrugging her off. What good would it have done? "What is it?"

You look like something's wrong.

"How would you even begin to know that?" he asked, sneering. His pauldrons started to grow heavy on his shoulders. Or was it something more bearing down on his body? The soldier couldn't grasp what caused the feeling, though he had yet to actually try.

You can make that face to hide it all you want… But it'll come out, no matter what.

"What are you? Tell me, now."

Take a walk with me. Please?

Drana smiled warmly at Sephiroth who, of course, dismissed it with little more than a turn of his head towards the gold-streaked sea. A light tug on his arm drew his attention back towards the waifish thing at his side.

Just this once? Please? Then, I'll never ask again, okay?

"… make it quick."

Drana's mismatched eyes lit up like the most mysterious, faraway stars. She looked as though she'd jump out of her skin and fly away in grand delight to the next plane of life.

-- --

They were quite the odd couple as they strolled, albeit forcibly along by the girl, down the peopled streets of Junon. Sephiroth found his eyes prone to darting about like a cautious cat's, a stalker feeling stalked. Every person that he and Drana passed was one too many that witnessed him in her company. The girl held his stiffened arm as if she were his child, or worse, some puerile lover. Either way, it appalled him. It disconcerted him to be seen with anyone as close to him as she was, but there was nothing he could do short of physical harm. And even the seasoned soldier knew that, with the media watching him so closely, it would make for bad press.

And he wasn't like that … was he?

"Mnh." Drana gestured her tiny hand towards the buildings that were steadily being decorated for Shinra's victory parade. Sephiroth only shrugged in response. Unlike the rest of the company, he held little to no interest in the celebrations to be thrown in recognition of the company's triumph in the war. The girl wouldn't let it rest; she pointed at everything that caught her eye, tugging endlessly on his arm as an effort to draw him from silence.

He growled under his breath.

You're so quiet. You don't want to talk about anything?

"I have nothing to say," he replied succinctly.

You're not wondering anything? I am. Look at all the people and the pretty ribbons and flags. Wouldn't it be fun to talk about them?

"You can't talk. You're only echoing in my head, which I discount."

Dis…count?

"Detest," Sephiroth said, adding, "dislike."

B-but, it's the only way I can … since what that bad man did…

"Then you are a freak of nature. Not unlike myself, I admit."

No, not a freak. That's not a nice word. I don't want to be a freak. Do you?

Drana's white-haired head hung low, but her grasp on Sephiroth never once faltered. She felt like an anchor in every sense of the word. There was no need to say it aloud. He'd think about it for a time then allow it to recess into the back of his skull. The soldier glanced down at the girl eventually.

He said nothing. Sephiroth gazed longingly at the girl in her simple, white dress. He recalled the days— though vaguely — of his youth confined within the walls of Shinra's main offices in Midgar. Within the labs. He recalled seeing her, imprisoned like a test tube animal among Hojo's private collection. He, himself, didn't have a tube; the boy was privileged because of his 'incredible potential'. But what future lied in store for Drana had he not freed her from the mad scientist's clutches? Would she have ended up like him or some creature far worse? Now, neither would ever know, lest again wound up as Hojo's personal guinea pig. Somehow.

Questions other than what might have been began to swirl about the soldier's mind. Small ones, large ones; personal and impersonal. Drana was a mystery and he was compelled to know more. He had to know why out of so many people in this gods' forsaken world that she chose to attach herself to him, whatever being attached meant to either of them.

Sephiroth groaned inaudibly. This aimless walking grew evermore frustrating by the minute. Drana clung to him as if it were her destiny to become grafted to his arm like new, alien skin. There was no action without reason. She had to have been leading him around for more than just a good time. If in fact she cherished his company, it would be the day stars fell from the sky and landed on his head, destruction imminent. Embellishment aside, it puzzled him to the core.

Soon, he couldn't take it anymore.

But before he realized it, Sephiroth had been led from Junon down to the fishing village the port-city kept in check below its shadow. It was a wonder he didn't notice the change in scenery sooner. So preoccupied was he with mulling over and cursing the girl that his awareness was compromised. On the battlefield, this would have spelt doom for any self-respecting warrior. A smart enemy took any and all opportunities to strike while one was down.

Perhaps this was Drana's plan from the start.

What are you thinking about?

"Is it really your business?" he questioned with a snort.

I was only asking…

"Speaking of which. What is it you want from me? Why are we here? There must be a rhyme and reason to all of this and you are neglecting to tell me." Sephiroth's sharp brow furrowed. He was like a fair, green-eyed hawk ogling its prey atop the highest perch. Drana shrank at his lethal-looking expression although, contrary to her discomfort, never let go of his arm.

I … I just like you. I feel warm and safe and … I just wanted somebody to be next to…

"Lies. What could a child— or whatever you are— see in me?"

It's just what I feel. You feel good.

Sephiroth scoffed. This girl was in no way a perfect judge of character— far from it— to be able to say what she did with a straight face. Her ignorance was staggering. He was good. He laughed at the concept. If he didn't know where or with what he truly belonged, why would she?

"Do you know just how naïve you sound? I want the truth," he uttered, his eyes so narrow and intent on slicing through Drana's supposed little ploy. She rightfully squirmed like an injured rodent from his gaze, but he found it hard to tell if it were because of him.

If, if anyone's naïve here, i-it's you. Drana finally released the soldier's arm, stuck her tongue out at him and dashed off into the village's dirty streets, down to the shady beach on the west end.

Bewildered, as well as fuming, Sephiroth stood in place for what seemed an eternity. Normally, he would have been unfazed by a child's babble, but a few unseen fingers pointed to Drana being a little more than a child. He considered it nearly a blow to his ego of typically unbending iron. Yet, he detected an ounce of hilarity to the situation. Bitterness, naivety, these were the most amusing things he'd ever heard. The soldier could have wrung her neck. Her tender, little neck…

"What has she been doing all these years, just to turn up now?" he mumbled to himself. He thumbed his chin in thought, watching the girl from afar.

Sephiroth began to think, to doubt, to second guess.

And it was all due to her.

In any other case, he would have never given more to Drana than a single thought out of the many he'd wasted so far on her. Not even one more bat of his eye. But now, he was forced to foster this sudden fascination on this girl who'd refused the normalcy everyone else wore so well around the soldier. She had to be special, just like him. And it enchanted him, exhausted him. It even found a way to anger him.

Sephiroth found it all to be sorely out of his character.

Walking down to the beach was out of character.

Squatting at the shore was out of character.

Looking into Drana's blue and green eyes was out of character.

"You came here to torment me, didn't you?" Sephiroth asked, his brow furrowed but devoid of any real tension. Drana's big eyes widened at him, wavering over him hesitantly. "That's what you intended, isn't it? Don't deny it. That is exactly what you wanted."

I-I dunno what you mean. I'm just…

Sephiroth closed a hand over the girl's slender arm, squeezing just hard enough that she'd know he meant business, wanted the truth and wanted it now. "What do you want? Why are you here? Why me?"

It's hard to tell you. I don't even have the right words, myself … Please.

"Wrong answer."

No! I'll be leaving soon. I'm, I'm going home where I'd be safe…

"Home?"

When I get there, I'll know what it is. Home, where I belong.

"Tell me," the soldier said. "Why haven't you grown? Why are you still a child?"

Hehe … I, I don't know. Maybe it's just not time yet?

"Are you even human? What are you?"

Um-

"What are you? What did Hojo do that killed your ability to speak?"

I-

"Why are your eyes two separate colors?"

Please-

"No more questions?" Sephiroth scoffed, throwing Drana's arm back at her. He shifted away on the tips of his toes then rose to his feet. "You can answer every single thing I throw at you, but you refuse. Practice what you preach, Drana. Obviously, I'm not the only who would keep buried the things that may need to be said. What an enormous hypocrite for such a little girl."

Y, you're right. I'm sorry … But I don't know as much as you think I do. It's true, or I would have told you. Honest.

"I'm done here." Sephiroth turned on his heels to depart from the nasty, shadowy beach, catching a glimpse of the girl wilting like a flower in his wake. The sight somehow pained him, but he wouldn't abide her company any longer, not while she babbled on about nothing and failed to give him any semblance of what he wanted to hear. He was annoyed, bemused, and worst of all detested these feelings and more that roiled inside of him. It had to end.

I'm sorry…

"… Hmph." He didn't look back, though he was tempted to do so the farther he walked away. To see Drana sitting there, cradling herself on the polluted sands as if she were the loneliest thing in the world.

When she wasn't.

But, but I wanna say thank you, too … Thank you for taking me away from that bad man, so I can live free. I hope you live free, too. I hope you have a good life, okay?

"And with that, you've condemned me."

Sephiroth returned to the upper layers of Junon, back to his only element amongst Shinra. Evening approached the city full throttle; the eclectic night life was beginning to rear its head slowly but surely. He took his place in the barracks, which were empty save for a few straggling officers whom, like him, had decided their time was best spent away from the parade's preliminary efforts.

The soldier occupied his own spacious quarters abutting that of the others. The room was lit only by the lamp at the corner of his desk, with oblongs of jaundiced light cast upon the desktop and spilling down onto the red carpeted floor. Sephiroth hid from the light, next to a shelf at elbow's height filled to the brim with books, medals, and random trinkets that he'd collected over the course of his life in the military. One stood out among the rest, a miniature candelabrum of sorts, carved from rock and crystal. It had been a gift from the late Faremis Gast, a treasure that the great scientist had acquired from the ruins of the Forgotten Capital. He'd fostered it in secret from a young age, knowing that Hojo detested anything from the hands, mouth and mind of Gast.

Next, there sat a worn, wooden box. Its exterior had been chipped at with many a sharp object. The soldier picked it up and stared at it through the darkness. It was so plain, apart from the single motif of a flower embossed in the lid.

After all these years, he'd kept this silly box. He had never been obliged to do so, far from it; then again, the niggling urge struck him with every thought that arose, too, to throw it away. Much like the candelabrum. As though embodied within them were glimmers of hope outside his existence as SOLDIER. As though…

Sephiroth wasn't that gullible. Not anymore.

What childish thoughts.

"'Thank you,'" he repeated to himself. "I saved you … Now, when will I be saved? This box, this box … Your thanks. It means…"

Sephiroth opened the lid slowly. A tiny, clay angel ascended from its dark depths, placed upon a pedestal that spun as a faint melody played on the air. The hidden mechanisms that churned out the quiet music would skip and repeat certain notes, due to wear and tear. Yet, it always managed to play through its short entirety.

"It means nothing. Your company meant nothing. You will fade from around me, as all things do. People and places. Selfish. Leaving me behind."

The soldier shut the lid of the box home and squeezed it tight between his gloved hands.

There was a knock at the door.

"Yo, Seph, you in there? The guys are going out for a drink. I think we all need one after the hell we had to trudge through to win this damn war. C'mon, don't be a wet blanket."

Sephiroth continued to bear down upon the box. Its wood began to splinter, the flower popped out of its relief in the lid, the hinges clattered mutedly on the floor. Tiny springs and cogs bounced upon the desktop and rolled into the darkness beyond its silhouetted edges. He dropped the mess on the carpet and stepped on it, grinding clay wings into a fine powder underfoot.

Impulsively, he reached for the candelabrum and aimed to smash it as well, but he stopped before he knew what he was about to do. The soldier clutched it firmly, lowered his hand, and turned to set it back in its place on the shelf.

"No," he whispered, "no."

"Seph?"

He showered an intense glare on the broken music box at his feet and hissed his exhaustion over the matter. He was done here. Before heading towards the door, Sephiroth spoke as if his voice were laced with acid. "No thanks."