Foreward:
This is a FF7 fanfic, and takes place before the Main Plotline of the game. For the record, "Jiyuu" means "Freedom". Each Japanese term will be explained once, usually at the top of the chapter it is first used in (i.e. - chapter titles), or explained by using context clues (like calling a teacher 'sensei'). If you have any questions, please pose them in a review and I'll try to clarify in future chapters. Also, please don't expect my typical style herein. I've tried to make this a Drama, but not specifically fangirl-oriented (no shoujo sparklies to be seen >.> not this time). Please read with an open mind. And, please, don't forget to review. Even a few words mean a lot to me.
~*Zerofoxie
moji: letter, character
The foundation of the project was founded years ago, even before Professor Hojo began his experimentation. Ideas brought forth by Professor Gast were set into motion by a team of scientists, who repeatedly failed to produce a properly-functioning specimen. But when Professor Hojo came across the documentation of the experiment, he took it upon himself to perfect it and produce a satisfactory result. This project was later called Project MOJI, in reference to the Roman letters Hojo tattooed upon his specimens...if they made it far enough to become a tattooable organism. Our story begins nineteen years into Hojo's experiments with this project, and fifteen after the being known as Sephiroth was produced.
He lay in the chair, almost in a trance-like state. He had undergone these treatments for as long as he could remember, so he had learned how to ignore the dull sting of the fluid which entered his body through the needle in his arm. He knew its purpose, as he had been told since the first day he existed. They were making him into something they needed. Always, always, it was about that place of ultimate happiness. And always, he was told that he would lead them to it. But he wanted nothing of it. All he wanted was his freedom, to be allowed release from his cage of misery if only for a moment.
He desired most that happiness. All the materia in the world could never amount to such a sublime feeling, or so he imagined often when he was back in his room, alone. Sometimes he was even thankful for his room, even for it being as empty and dark as it always was. He treasured the time when he could sit there and entertain such thoughts and dreams of being free, instead of the training or treatments he had to endure daily. His chance at freedom was drawing near, but his wings were still chained to Them. He was told that he would enter SOLDIER in the fall, and serve as a weapon of Shin-Ra. Yes, that was the name. Shin-Ra. They were the ones he was told to lead to their Promised Land. Their land of happiness. Their land of dreams. But...who would give him his happiness?
Is it really too much to ask? For my own freedom and happiness?
His eyes focused on a canvas sheet which covered what he imagined to be an array of experiments and tools. It had letters painted on it with white acrylic, but he could not read the entire label. All he could read was the English, which didn't help him at all. He cursed the scientists for not teaching him the language as he grew up, for they only recently decided to teach him how to write the bare-essentials of the major languages that he would need in SOLDIER. They did not teach him the complicated characters of one language, which he was quite thankful for because of how difficult and different they all looked. He was only bothered by the fact that he couldn't read this canvas sheet, a sheet he had looked at for years and years in curiosity. He feared asking the Doctor, mainly because of what happened the last time he questioned one of his experiments. The Doctor became enraged with his inquiry, and sent him away without a meal for the evening - his one meal for the day. That was the worst, too, to be left without food after treatment. It left him weak the next day for his morning training, and made the treatment even worse in the evening. The Doctor was in a better mood after that, though, because it made the boy more submissive. He needn't worry about any aggressions towards him after that, for the boy realized exactly what power the man had over his life.
But...what does that say? I want to know... he thought. If I don't find out soon, I'll be in SOLDIER...and I probably will never find out.
He felt his treatment's end drawing near, and closed his eyes. He always would fall asleep afterward, possibly from the mental anxiety it caused, or possibly from a merciful additive in the fluid that worked like an anesthetic. He never found out that day he asked, and figured he would recieve a more severe punishment than being starved if he ever asked again.
"So, are you understanding the material well?"
"Yes, teacher." He replied truthfully, and contemplated how to pose his question, without giving away why he was asking it. "Teacher?"
"Yes?"
"I...I was...wondering...if..you could help me learn..more."
The teacher's eyes lit up. "More? You desire to learn more? Interesting..." he made a note on one of the papers in front of him.
"Yes...I..wanted to learn more of that language with the weird characters."
"Chinese? Well, I suppose.."
"No, not Chinese. The other...that says it differently and has all the different sounds I had to learn."
"Oh, yes. Japanese. Our sister language. I can see why you'd want to learn more, considering that fact. It's writing is harder than English to learn, I'm afraid, and will use up valuable time."
"But...I want to learn. Please, sensei?"
The teacher smiled. "Sensei? Well...yes, it will take up time, but I'll try to teach it to you. You may end up finding Kanji necessary to know on your travels."
"It's called...Kanji? Those letters?"
The teacher chuckled. "Yes, those 'letters' are Kanji. I'll present my proposal to the good doctor, and see if he'll extend my time for another hour each day."
"Another....hour?" he scowled in disgust. Aren't six hours of language every day enough?
He lay in the chair confortably, but trembled from either fear or excitement. He usually didn't react at all to the insertion of the needle, so he figured it must be out of excitement. He had learned a new set of Kanji but a few minutes ago in class, and eagerly anticipated reading the canvas sheet. His earlier lessons proved futile, none of the characters matching what was painted ever so carefully on the sheet. But today, he had high hopes. His fighting lessons were cancelled indeffinately-he was now only required to practice for an hour in the morning with other SOLDIERs-and the spare time opened was dedicated to his language lessons. He was told he was almost 3/4 of the way complete with his Kanji lessons, what with the new hundred he practiced today. His teacher, and even the doctor, was amazed at his progress. Then, of course, dedication was what pushed him to memorize all those horrible characters, and perservereance forced him to keep them straight.
Other than the slight tremors, he tried his best to hide his excitement from the Doctor and his few assistants. He began to feel the sensation of the liquid melding with his blood, and waited for his audience to clear away from his view of the canvas. His excitement multiplied greatly as one of the assistants left his side, and he shivered with anticipation as another turned to leave as well. The doctor, of course, took notice of this behavior, but only observed the shivering of his 'specimen' and dismissed it as result of his recent abundence of language lessons. He dismissed his second assistant, and left the room himself to carry on other experimentation.
He stared at the canvas with the greatest interest, browsing his memory for matching characters. He found one that seemed to fit the painted character almost perfectly, and kept it in his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to remember anything resembling the second character, visualizing every character with the same number of strokes. And then, he remembered it. It came to him out of nowhere it seemed. He didn't even recall learning the character, but he knew that's what it read. The characters suddenly seemed simple to him, as though he should have known them all along. They, together, read moji, a simple word, indeed. Letter. But, why did this sheet say that? What business did the Doctor have with letters? Wasn't his teacher supposed to be in that business?
His curiosity got the best of him. He gathered up the mobile machine in his strong arms that was pumping the solution into his blood -taking care to not disturb the needle in his flesh and vein- and cautiously made his way over to the canvas nearby. Luckily, his training taught him how to move about quite stealthily, even when bearing his treasured Masamune, so silence was child's play to him. He approached the canvas, and setup the machine he was holding on a shelf a few feet away. He grabbed at the right side of the canvas, and pulled it aside with great care -so as not to disturb whatever lie behind it.
He gradually revealed, little by little, small glass vials. These vials were full of a greenish fluid, and a small yellow organism. Some were labeled and in different sizes, others were not and simply marked with an X, then the Kanji for zero, "rei". He pulled the canvas sheet aside further, and unveiled another, much larger vial. It obviously held a larger organism, and was filled with more of the greenish fluid. He pulled aside the rest of the canvas, eager to learn what was inside.
Light finally filled the vial. He could see inside what appeared to be a girl, about the same age as himself. She was clothed in a blackwetsuit, the sleeves on which were discarded to make way for the intravenous system that was inserted in each of her thin arms. Small tubes were attatched to the needles: one slowly pumped a glowing teal fluid into her, and the other appeared to pull blood from her at regular, brief intervals. On her abdomen, more tubes were attatched, but their purpose was not appearant because they were not clear like the other two.
He watched the girl with wonderment. She floated, as if unharmed by time, in this strange fluid. He assumed that she had been there for some time, and wasn't coming out soon, either. So...the Doctor did this? Strange...
He stared at the girl for minutes more, then rummaged around quietly in search of a file, of which he never found. He sighed, defeated, and noticed something he had not seen before. A dark tattoo on her shoulder.
A Roman character? He read it aloud. "I remember this. Alpha."
Bubbles rose form the floor of the large green tube, and the girl opened her eyes.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from Final Fantasy Seven. If I did, I would be filthy rich and not have to worry about being sued. So don't sue me, okies?