1. First Meeting
---
I'd never really given much thought as to how my life would end -- though I'd probably had enough reason to in the last year -- but even if I had, I would not have imagined it ending in this way.
I stared without recognition into the eyes of the SOLDIER, and his ice-blue eyes stared back at me in a unpleasantly way. He was pleased, as if he would be here rather than at the headquarters, doing his usual paperwork and training.
Surely, this would be a good way to die; to die in the place of the someone I loved -- the one person I could no longer live without. It was noble, maybe honorable. That should count for something, shouldn't it?
I knew that if I hadn't become a turk, and had heeded his warnings about the danger I was putting myself in by being near him, I wouldn't be facing this now. But, as horrified as I was about what he was going to do to me, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decisions that I had made so far.
When life offers you a dream that was more than you had ever imagined or expected, it was not reasonable to take it back, or even to grieve, when it withers and dies.
Genesis smiled in a all-too-friendly way as he sauntered forward to end me.
---
My mother was against me joining the Turks from the beginning. She had made me all too aware of this in the months before my departure for Midgar. Although she was my mother, I had never really liked her; never-mind loved her. You could plainly tell that I didn't because I had known her by Loathed for years.
Loathed refused to drive me to the train depot on the morning of my departure, and so my father was the one to drive me twelve miles to the small platform in the nearest town, although he had to go to work at two in the morning the next day and it was nearly nine in the evening.
I was wearing my favorite shirt -- long sleeved, black cotton stretch; I was wearing it because it was probably the only thing that would be appropriate for Midgar's weather. It was hot here in Casa Del Sol, more-so than probably any other place on Gaia. I was moving to the city, where it was winter. It was always summer in Casa Del Sol.
It was to Midgar -- and to Shinra -- that I now forced myself to go. It was a action I took with great distaste. I loved my hometown. I loved the sun and the blistering heat all year round. I loved the hot white sand and the crashing waves.
"Kimiko," My father said to me -- the last of a thousand times -- before I got on the train. "You don't have to do this."
My father looks almost like me -- except older, masculine and with laugh lines. I felt a quick spasm of guilt as I looked at him, his long brownish-black hair hanging limply around his shoulders. His big brown eyes were sad. How could I leave my loving father, who had always cared for me and loved me when my mother refused, to fend for himself against Loathed? He didn't stand a chance.
"I want to go, dad." I lied. I'd always been a horrible liar, but I'd been saying things like this for a couple of months now and with repetition it was starting to become believable.
"Tell Tseng I said hi." He said. He had met Tseng when he had taken a trip to Wutai for work, and they had been friends since. I still had yet to meet the man.
"I will."
"I'll see you soon, my Kimiko." He insisted. "You can come home anytime, my love. I'll come when you need me. Just call."
I could see the sadness in his eyes behind the blind promise.
"Don't worry about me," I told him. "It'll be great. I love you, dad."
My father hugged me awkwardly with one arm, handing me my suitcase. I lugged it onto the train, took my seat. He waved one last time, and then the train started to move. Within fifteen minutes, he was gone.
It's a four-and-a-half-hour train ride to Midgar from Casa Del Sol. The train didn't bother me, I loved taking the train. I'd done it before, when I had to go to school outside of town. The drive in the car with the turk, my father's friend, Tseng -- that, I was a little worried about.
Shinra had been very nice about the whole ordeal. My mother had done everything in her power to stop me from going, and my father -- although hesitant about my safety -- called Tseng and talked to him about getting me hired.
It was almost too quick, and it made me wonder how many strings my father and his friend had to pull to get me this job.
It was sure to be awkward with Tseng. I wasn't very good with people, although I was a pretty good negotiator, and could hold my own in a argument (living with Loathed, I had to learn to defend myself against her constant verbal tirades). I wasn't sure what to expect, and I had made the resolution to be quiet unless talked to first. Maybe that would keep me out of trouble, at least for a little bit.
When the train stopped in Midgar, it was pouring rain. I didn't take it as a omen -- I just thought of it as cold. Sometime during the journey I had gone to the bathroom on my car and changed into the suit that they company had sent before hand -- white button up shirt, black tie, black blazer, black pants, fingerless gloves, black shoes; the typical Turk uniform. Even with all these clothes on, I was still terribly cold.
There was a black car waiting outside the depot when the train unloaded. I lugged my suitcase out onto the pavement, grunting as I struggled to keep it out of the puddles that had formed on the sidewalk. My hair was drenched and the ends of my pant legs were wet too, making my ankles cold. I tried desperately to get under the canopy -- I damned myself internally for packing all my clothing, instead of only half.
"Yo! Let me help you with that, babe."
The young man snatched my suitcase out of my hand before I could even look at him, and suddenly there was a black umbrella over my head. I stood frozen for a moment, not sure what to do, but then looked up at the two Turks standing around me.
One was a red-head, with two identical red tattoos on his face. He had a big, excited smile on his face, and seemed a little bit too cocky for my liking. The other had tan skin and was bald, with a beard that seemed kind of bristly. The bald one was the one holding the umbrella over my head.
"Hey, c'mon, did we scare ya?" The red-head one said.
"No." I told him, straightening up. I noticed that his shirt was open to the middle of his torso. It made me feel weirdly over-dressed.
"I'm Reno. This is Rude." He said, pointing to himself then his friend.
"Kimiko Shimane."
"Nice to meet ya. Shall we?" Reno said, gesturing towards the black car.
"Um, yes."
I couldn't see the driver as we got into the vehicle -- the window was tinted -- but there was a man around 30 to 35 with black haired pulled into a pony-tail sitting on one side of the seat. He stared out the window and didn't even acknowledge our presence. The other man was kind-of burly with a cute face, spiky black hair and a whittled waist was talkative and never really seemed to shut up.
I exchanged a few comments with the other man with the pony-tail -- who I learned was Tseng -- about the weather, but that was pretty much it for conversation. I stared out the window in silence, the buzz of the men in the car merely background noise.
The building that I had been assigned to for living purposes was pretty much a apartment complex. My room was on the fourth floor, and the others helped me get my bags up to the room. It only took one trip.
There were three people assigned to each apartment, and I was bunking with two other female turks. I got the north bedroom that faced the reactor. The room was vaguely familiar -- it was painted the same color as the kitchen at home. A pale, robin blue. It had a wooden floor.
The room held a flimsy oak desk, a bed with a blue comforter that was stained with something that looked like grape-juice, and a wardrobe that sat emptily beside the window. There was a old computer on the desk, and there was a internet cord stapled to the floor before it disappeared into the wall.
There was only one small bathroom in the apartment, which I would have to share with the other occupants of the suite. I was trying not to dwell too much on the fact that there could possibly be lines in the morning and that people might look at and touch my things. I'd had my own bathroom at home.
After maybe fifteen minutes of the boys hanging around the room, Tseng shooed them off and then promptly disappeared himself. He left a strange schedule written on a white piece of paper on my desk. I didn't even try to understand it. One of the best things about Tseng, I was learning, was that you didn't need to keep up a conversation with him, and that he didn't hover over you.
So I was left alone to unpack and get settled in my new home. It was nice to be alone, to not have to smile and look pleased for people; a relief to stare out into the rain and let a few tears escape the corners of my eyes and run down my face.
I had a pretty good idea of what I would be facing tomorrow -- I would be the new girl from elsewhere, the new Turk. Ugh.
Maybe if I looked like a proper fighter, like a proper tough girl, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never really fit in anywhere. Not at school, not at home, and probably not here. I should be beautiful, sporty, muscly -- a martial arts teacher, a award winning swordsman.
Instead, I was ivory-skinned and had brown eyes -- the color of mud. I had always been awkwardly skinny -- when I was seventeen the gym teacher had asked my parents if I was anorexic. I had no muscle, and was obviously not a athlete.
I stuffed my clothing into the wardrobe, not bothering to organize the articles of clothing that I had just bought a couple of days earlier. Then, I wrapped a small blanket around my shoulders and grabbed my toiletries bag. In the bathroom I wiped my face, ran a brush through my waist-length hair.
I studied my face in the mirror as I did so. Maybe it was the blue-tinted lights in this room, but I looked sallow, and unhealthy. My skin was very clear, and very pale. It could be pretty, depending on the color of the light.
Facing my reflection in the smudged mirror, I was forced to admit that what I had said was a lie. I didn't just not fit in physically, but I'd never fit in anywhere, anyway. If I couldn't find a niche in a town of three-thousand people, what were my chances finding somewhere where I was normal here?
I didn't relate well to people. Not just people my age, but everyone. I'd never met anyone who I was exactly on the same page with, never exactly in harmony. I wondered sometimes if I was seeing the same thing through my eyes as everyone around me. Maybe I was brain-damaged.
But the cause didn't matter all that much. What mattered was the effect it had on my life. I had a feeling that tomorrow would be just the beginning.
---
I didn't sleep well that night, even after I had finished feeling sorry for myself. The constant sound of the rain against my window and the whirring of the reactor kept me awake until late. The sounds of the city refused to fade into the background. I wound up pulling my blankets up over my ears trying to muffle the evidence that my life had changed.
Still, I couldn't fall asleep until long after midnight, when the rain faded into a quiet drizzle that dripped quietly onto my windowsill.
When I awoke to my alarm at five, thick fog had masked the lights of the reactor. I felt claustrophobic, like something was going to sneak up on me and take me away.
Breakfast with the other girls was a silent event. I couldn't eat, I was too nervous, but the red-head dug into her cereal and the blond sipped on a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. I spent my time fidgeting, worrying why I still didn't know their names. I beat myself up because I was too afraid to ask them.
I left with the rest of them, following the two women through the complex like a lost puppy. Everywhere, people were locking their doors and others were sparring with each-other. The spiky haired one from last night, the one who reminded me of a puppy, ran around talking to everyone. He punched one man -- who looked particularly large and menacing, with a thick neck and a wide jaw -- in the arm without saying anything.
It was still drizzling, not enough to soak us through immediately as we walked towards the main building. The sloshing of my boots in the puddles was annoying. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked.
Inside the headquarters it was brightly lit and warmer than I was expecting. The main office was small and off to the side, and it branched out into several different military looking hallways. I followed the others down the west branch of the building. There was a big clock ticking on the wall. It made me feel anxious.
"Hey."
The red-headed female turk looked me up and down, shaking her head of blazing curls. She seemed slightly put-off by me, but I couldn't exactly pick up on why.
"You need to go to the armory, and pick up your weapon. Wouldn't do if something happened and you were unprepared, would it?"
She smiled, showing rows of pretty white teeth.
"Uh, sure." I said, turning and trying to discreetly pull the confusing map of the building out of my pants pocket.
"Hey, it's that way." she said, pointing towards the other hallway.
I only nodded in response, heading that way.
"Oh, and by the way," she called after me. I halted just before the stairs and looked back at the woman with the red hair. "My name's Cissnei."
"Kimiko." I told her in response.
The armory was again, brightly lit. Almost blindingly so. It wasn't what I thought it would be -- there was a small waiting room with yellowing leather chairs, ugly green carpet and notices pasted all over the walls. The room was almost cut in half by a large wooden desk; there was a door on the other side, but I already knew it was locked.
Behind the counter a Wutaian girl wearing a white shirt and brown, pin-striped pants was signing paperwork. She was very pretty, with almond shaped eyes and shiny black hair styled into a stylish bob.
The lady looked up. "Can I help you with something?"
"I'm Kimiko Shimane, um, I was sent here to get... my weapon?" I informed her, and saw immediate awareness in her eyes.
"Hi! I was just signing the paperwork for you... I expected either Elena or Tseng would send you here--"
"Uh, Cissnei... sent me." I interrupted.
"Oh, the red-headed girl? She's a nice one, there."
She dug through the stack of papers she had in her hand and signed one more spot on a form with the Shinra logo at the top.
"I need you to sign here. I'll go get your weapon, I'll be right back." The girl said, disappearing into a back room.
In the time while she was gone I skimmed over the paperwork. There was alot of boring, off-topic stuff, as to what you should do if your weapon breaks, and how to properly cared for it. I signed it without completing the read.
"Here you go," The Wutaian girl said as she handed me a thin blade. It had a sheath made of a type of metal chain-work. It was also heavy in my hands, but only a bit heavier than the sword I fought with at school.
The woman behind the desk pointed out where I was supposed to go next -- a meeting of some sorts in a boardroom somewhere -- and gave me a slip to have Tseng sign. She smiled and hoped out loud that I would like it here. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.
I looked at the map as I walked, trying to keep my head down. It was better to read it now than spend the rest of the day with my nose against the paper trying to figure it out. I slung the strap of the sword-sheath over my shoulder, where it hung loosely and thumped against my back as I walked.
The whole time I was telling myself I could do this. It was a lie, I knew. I kept telling me that no one was going to bite my head off, but I couldn't be sure and therefor couldn't believe it.
I kept my face in the paper as I walked to the boardroom, trying to avoid touching anyone in a hallway crowded with people. My clothing and weapon didn't stand out, I noticed with relief. There was a ton of people with weapons on them.
A large white "4" was painted on the window of the boardroom. I felt my breathing gradually getting quicker as I approached it. I tried to hold my breath as I followed the stream of people through the door.
The boardroom was packed with not only Turks but people in white suits, and even people who I recognized as SOLDIER. They were a trademark, well known for being insanely strong and pretty-much unbeatable in combat. All the seats were taken except for one, and as I glanced at the seat, I caught a flash of white hair in my peripherals and looked at it.
He was lanky, less bulky than the man sitting beside him (who I recognized from the hallway), and he had long pin-straight grayish-white hair that fell down far past his waist. He wasn't boyish at all, rather, he looked like he could be a teacher, or a warrior.
That's when I realized, that was exactly what he was.
I felt like something was pulling me, like the world was tipping and gravity was pulling me what used to be down -- towards him. I took a almost involuntary step forwards, my gaze no leaving his face.
He looked up and met my gaze, and I saw him freeze -- his muscles went hard, and he became unmoving, like a marble statue. His eyes held curiosity, and strangely, fear. I stared back at him, struggling to keep my knees locked so I wouldn't move forward anymore.
The man on the other side of the larger man, the red-head who was wearing a red duster and had a single silver earring dangling from his ear, was looking from the silver-haired man to me, and back again. He seemed confused and slightly worried.
Then the lanky SOLDIER jerked, as if he had been kicked under the table. The red-headed man glared at him and then smiled with smug, crooked smile. The conversation they were having seemed to start up again where it had left off.
"That's Sephiroth. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. He's pretty much Hojo's guinea-pig and by far the best fighter here." Elena, the blond Turk, told me. "Apparently none of the girl's here are good looking enough for him." She sniffed, pretending to be heartbroken.
I bit my lip to hide my smile, glancing at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he was trying not to smile.
"You should go sit down," Elena said, clearly a order and not a suggestion.
"What about you?"
"I have to go off somewhere, on a mission." She told me. "Now go, shoo."
As I walked around the table to get my slip signed by Tseng, I was watching him out of the corner of my eye. Just as I passed him, the strange attraction came back and he clenched his fist on the table. I watched him grind his teeth together. His friends met my eyes, and their expressions were furious, hostile.
I looked away quickly, shocked at their reactions. I stumbled over a chair leg and dropped my sword. It clattered to the floor. The room went silent, and my face went red. I picked it up off the ground and hurried up to Tseng and handed him the paper.
He looked at me warily as he signed it, not even looking at the paper, and handed it back.
However, I had no choice but to go to the one open seat in the room. I tried to keep my eyes down as I went to sit beside him, slightly alienated by the stares of his friends. I didn't look up as I set down my sword and settled into my chair, but I saw his posture change quickly from the corner of my eye. Sephiroth was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair, his face turned in a different direction like he smelled something horrible.
I sniffed the lock of hair that settled over my left eye. It smelled like jasmine and vanilla, the scent of my shampoo. It seemed innocent enough. I let my hair fall around my face, hiding my eyes. It made a black curtain in between us, and I tried to listen to the meeting.
I couldn't stop myself from peeking through the screen of my hair at Sephiroth during the briefing. The whole time he never relaxed his posture, and the hand on the table was clenched into a tight fist. His knuckles looked like they were going to push through his white skin.
It couldn't have anything to do with me, I told myself. He didn't know me. He didn't know me.
The last time I peek up at him, I regretted that I had. He was staring at me, or rather, glaring. His silverish-green eyes were full of something that looked like hate. I flinched away from him, shrinking against the arm of the chair, and I saw his red-headed friend smirk.
At that moment, everyone stood, and Sephiroth was out of his seat. He was much taller than I had first thought. He turned his back to me and was out the door before his friends were out of their seats. I sat frozen, staring after him. It isn't fair, I thought. He doesn't know me.
His friend smirked down at me and laughed softly at my expression as he walked out the door.
- - - - - - - - - - -
It took me a week to figure out who Kimiko was. At first, I had a image of a clearly asian girl, and when I saw this picture (profile picture) things seemed to fall into place for me.