A/n: How... the... heck... Yeah. Really fun one. Hojo and Sephiroth have a father son talk... And Sephiroth is really spoiled. I cry that I am actually responsible for writing this. Kidding. Oh, yes. I blame Kefka.
Disclaimer: Hell yes do I disclaim. Nobody wants to own Hojo... maybe Sephiroth, but he's kicking-ly evil. All subjects and madness contained in this fic belong to Square Enix etc. I vow no attempt to profit or gain from this fic.
The Precious Specimen
An ancient, cursed evil was shaken awake when a small boy's hands gripped the aging man's coat at the shoulder. Snorting, the ancient evil wrinkled his brow and drifted slightly awake. The shaking happened again, this time with a much stronger force then before. Coming to a grumbling wakefulness, the balding man opened his beady eyes to glare at the interloper. It didn't take long for the man to realize just who he was glaring at when the intruder smirked in satisfaction at him.
Pride filled the man's chest as he pushed himself up from his desk. If he remembered correctly, it was this specimen's day of birth. His single most important success and he'd made a promise to the boy to give him whatever he wanted so long as it was in his power to do so. He could do no less for the boy who would one day become a god.
"Sephiroth," he said, "have you decided what you wanted?"
The specimen was nine now, he believed. Nine wonderful years of perfection and so many more to come. This was his perfect creation, his beautiful son. He would give him the world. Professor Hojo fixed his skewed glasses as the nine year old boy nodded. Last year he had requested a sword from his creator. Hojo leaned forward in anticipation, caught up in the curiosity that both cursed and blessed him to here his beloved specimen's wish.
"A brother." Sephiroth demanded lightly. Green eyes glittered with the fierce glow of mako as the boy set a pamphlet down on the professor's desk. It showed an advertisement for a clinic to help with the conception of a child. "These people promise they can do that for a fee. You're smart enough to make me a brother, right, Professor?"
Hojo felt nearly ready to choke at the sudden demand from the child. A trickle of fear filled the professor's spine as he recalled the silver haired boy's earliest years. Gods, he remembered every last detail and the task of potty training the specimen had been enough horror to last him decades. He really should have left him with his mother, but then experiment would've been at risk. Letting the past go, he forced himself to ask. "Why do you want a brother, Sephiroth?"
Narrowing his eyes at the scientist, Sephiroth forced the pamphlet into the professor's hand. "Because its what I want and you said I could have anything I want."
"A brother is a lot of responsibility. Do you even know how much work it takes?" Hojo tried to reason.
Shrugging, Sephiroth forced his own logic into the conversation. This was Hojo's method of teaching him strategy. Ever since he could first make coherent sentences they debated about everything from experiments, treatments, games of logic, and what best killed what. "I'll use the grunts and lab assistants like you do."
Hojo took a breath. Slowly, he released it and asked. "Are you sure you don't want a puppy?"