Relocated from The Seventh Heaven forums. For Brunette S Angel and all the other members of the forum. Love you guys.

Warnings: Violence, language, possible Yaoi/Shounen-Ai in later chapters. Plans could have this story go more than one way. Lol. I do not own Final Fantasy VII, or any of the characters or content within. I do, however, own my computer, and the twisted imagination that spawned this piece of work.

Taking this one as it comes.

--

I can remember the house I grew up in, as clear as the stream that ran beside it as I'd gazed into it of a night time and imagined something… bigger… My town had its fair share of conflicts and trivial disputes, but its nature was overall that of a placid kind. Nothing ever happened to boost the adrenaline, nothing cause a stilling of the heart, a stirring of the blood, a catching of your breath… Nothing ever made you feel as if you were truly alive. My house had its fair share of conflict on its own, the fights, the constant arguments and clashes of dominance. Even with the chaos that seemed to surround me, nothing ever seemed to change. That was, until the war.

I lived with three other men. My father, a somewhat lenient parent, was of strong mind and body. His work as a temple guard demanded a fit physique and strong moral bounds, something that my father had produced in large quantities. He always repaid his debts in the times he had been humble enough to accept a loan, and he followed customs and traditions almost religiously. He had always been as stubborn as a mule, and it was something my siblings and I had come to accept, knowing that despite all this, he had a lot of love to offer. My uncle and his son lived with us also. My uncle was, and forever shall be, a selfish individual who prided himself on his hedonistic lifestyle and the lavish amounts of money he spent on his son; all this whilst living in the home that his brother owned and maintained.

Perhaps the biggest concern was my uncle's son himself, Kodin, who looked to be heading down the same path of his father from a very young age. Kodin was five years my junior, but respect for his elders was a concept foreign to him, and ultimately a disgrace to the village we lived in. By the age of four he'd begun to growl and snarl at the village elders who dared to offer him a smile, and he had gone on to bite me in brawls and even times of peace by the time he was six. He had barely hit fifteen when war broke out, and although he'd matured beyond his growling and biting phase, he had replaced those with the use of crude words, backchat and an increasing level of violence. My uncle, ever the detached parent, had palmed him off to the military when he became too much of a nuisance. My father, ever the concerned parent, had begged me not to follow. I did, however, fearful of my cousin's safety despite his attitude, and very much [i]because[/i] of his attitude.

Military training turned out to be just what we both had needed. Kodin quickly gained the discipline and guidance his father had not bothered to provide him, enough so that I had stopped denying our bloodlines. For me, it offered an energy source, a spark of life I'd yet to have been offered, and I took it graciously.

"You're a machine," Kodin had whistled one afternoon after a training session. I'd offered a small smile and a slight ruffle of his hair.

"You're still young, class C may prove to be the same for you," I remarked, and he grinned.

"You won't be C for too long, the way you're going."

He had been right. I moved up to B class within a week, and found myself to be one of only three under the age of twenty four. I fought, and I fought hard, and I had never been afraid to fight even a little dirty to get the upper hand on my training partners. Each training exercise, each mock battle, each exam was effort to the highest degree. To me, perfection was a goal, not a myth.

"You're wearing yourself out," Kodin had frowned at the campfire one morning, "I hope you're not heading down Rebecca's path…"

Rebecca, my sister, had strived so hard for perfection that she had turned to dishonoring our family in her attempts to achieve it. My father had demanded she leave our house and never return, his respect and rose-tinted image of her finally dissolved. I held some resentment towards my sister, even as I wrote to her in Rocket Town and eagerly awaited news of her current life and if anything at all had ever changed. In the end however, I'd no longer envied her as I'd done as a child. She'd aimed for perfection and gained little more than a deep seeded misery behind the façade of happiness she created for herself and the others around her. She was a shell of what she could have been, and her hunger for the seemingly impossible had destroyed all that she'd once held dear.

I'd turned to Kodin on his last statement and frowned slightly, and he offered little more in his body language than a small shrug.

"I'm just saying, don't break yourself trying to break others," he shook his head, "I'd prefer you weren't booted off to Rocket town as well, postage is expensive."

I'd bit back my laugh at that, merely giving his shoulder a slight squeeze and prodding the fire with a stick. It was nice, this sense of brotherhood between him and I. Secretly, it was something I'd always hoped to achieve, but had yet to reach. Now, Kodin was becoming a man, and a valuable and well respected member of our family. My father had stopped by to the military training field one afternoon and given me a small katana that his father had given to him. It had the Emperor's seal on the hilt and was beautifully carved with the figures of Da Chao. He had also bought a pistol with him, a much newer item, yet still with its own history. As he'd handed it to Kodin, he'd smiled and ruffled his nephew's hair.

"This weapon was once used by a Westerner when he'd come to Wutai in his attempts to assassinate our Emperor. I had managed to take the gun from him and use it against him," My father had laughed then, till his eyes brimmed with tears.

"I'd held it to him and he'd wet his pants," Father had laughed, wiping at his eyes, "I laughed so hard I was unable to kill him."

Despite being a temple guard, my father was yet to ever kill a soul. One way or another, he had found reasons not to kill. That, he had said, was a job for the more ruthless of his workmates. For him, apprehension, not execution, was his job.

Two weeks of B class, eight weeks less than the norm, had seen me promoted to A class. Shinra was our enemy, we were told, but my father's words had always been a form of guidance through my life, and they had reverberated through my ears once more.

"An enemy is not deemed by his title, his uniform, or even his family name," My father had said sternly one afternoon, "Only by his actions against you as an individual."

This had surprised me, as Wutai tradition demanded that any man who had committed a crime against one's family, had vengeance sought upon him. If not him, those he worked for, worked with, or those he bore blood ties to. This was the first time I had heard my father speak for himself, from experience, rather than the traditions he loved and cherished. My father believed that the only exception to this was war. He believed that any man choosing to fight in a battle and take the lives of another, had made his choice, and had committed his actions. He'd said that if our enemy had been Shinra, and a Shinra soldier had taken the life of unknown countrymen to me, he was the enemy of another. But if a Shinra soldier had taken the life of Kodin or any other individual whose passing would bear me pain, he became an enemy of my own. He said this also to Kodin, who I'm not sure had paid as much attention as I had, enthralled in the idea of action above all else. I was twenty years of age now, yet to meet a single person who I could truly deem my enemy under my father's words. Undoubtedly, I hoped I never would. Yet, with the promise of adventure and adrenaline, I signed up for deployment.

Every week there was a group of A class warriors sent to Midgar. Two groups waited before us, several more behind, and it was only then that I began to truly question war. I was the youngest to ever make A class, and then A class elite forces, but there stood no man on our sidelines that was over thirty. Many of them would never return. Even with these thoughts, there only came questions, not fear. No, the first time I would feel fear was when they came to our soil, unannounced, unexpected, and unstoppable. The image would forever be burnt into my mind of armored masks with glowing green eyes, electronic weaponry as yet unseen by our culture, and the bloodthirsty look of unwavering determination as they swept through our ranks. I first came to understand the word SOLDIER that day, and that there was far more of a difference between them and the normal kind than the capitalization of letters.

Then, he came, a towering force amongst his men, face expressionless as his blade killed my countrymen with effortless ease, his eyes creased slightly, even as they flashed with a fiery intensity I would later learn was not entirely mako. His motions? They were liquid, beautiful, flawless… perfection…It was that day that I first came to understand that even the elite had its elite, and that Gods need not be immortalized in stone to forever be remembered.

It was that day I would come to put meaning to the name Sephiroth.

There'd been a ceasefire called, a temporary truce as our emperor extended his offers to Shinra for negotiation. Shinra took the extended hand and came with his General, and with a large group of his third class army. The orders were passed down quickly and quietly to Wutai's A Class elite. Kill Sephiroth. Without their General, their army would fall. Sephiroth, as it was known, was not an easily replaceable figure. The world would see that Shinra's power only extended to that of Sephiroth's; that the General was the true force behind the company, and Shinra Inc. would collapse. Twelve of us traveled by cover of night, entering the complex that Shinra had had set up for our guests to sleep in. The Third Class group fell swiftly in their sleep, an entire force removed and returned to the planet with no more of a disturbance than a muffled groan of startled surprise and pain. Him though, he knew we were coming. By whatever force guided him, he was well aware that we were coming, and we sought his blood.

He was standing armed and seemingly laid back as we entered the building he was residing in, his eyes sweeping across the group as they approached, slight reluctance lacing his eyes.

"You should leave now," He warned, his voice rich, deep, commanding, "While you still can."

We paid little heed to his warning, and hesitated no more than necessary. He fought with grace, with slightly less reluctance, and yet he continued to hold remorse with each of my countrymen slain. I'd stayed back briefly, watching, scoping for flaws, weaknesses, not foolishly assuming that this man would be an easy task, like so many of my comrades had. I held my blade and at ease, as he straightened from a sweeping slice of his blade, another Wutaian elite falling, and his eyes met mine squarely. They had fallen, and his katana wielded eleven more souls into its blade.

"Sephiroth."

"Yes."

He had not moved towards me, several metres separating us, yet his eyes watched me with sharp curiosity.

"You did not rush into battle," he noted, "You stayed back and you analyzed my movements."

"So If I should fight you, I may do so effectively, yes."

He faltered slightly, his mouth parting a few moments before his words were capable of forming.

"You show no anger towards me despite me taking their lives," He said softly, a gloved hand sweeping the room, "Why?"

"Remorse. I have felt it as I have slain your men, General," I explained, "And I see it now as you survey the fallen bodies of mine."

His eyes were calculating and cautious, though I saw an undeniable respect he seemed to be in no rush to hide. So it was mutual. He must have seen it too, as he straightened slightly, his eyes sweeping me in a fluid movement.

"You respect me also, warrior," He said quietly, "After everything I've done…"

He seemed mildly confused for a moment, before he continued.

"Does this mean we do not fight? Do you not wish to fight me?"

"On the contrary, it makes me want to fight you more," I nodded, readying my sword, remembering all too well what the blade represented. My fingers ran over the emperor's seal, and I felt a little more empowered in the face of my greatest opponent to date.

"…Work for us," Sephiroth proposed, "Skills of your caliber can surely only be suppressed here. It's a shame to see talent go to waste."

"I either fight here, or I die here," I replied, and he let out a small "hmph" of amusement, before he came for me.

His blows were strong, his speed was incredible, but his maneuverability was hampered slightly by his muscular frame. His mako enhancements gave him strength and power, but his connection with the planet was clouded by something impure, and so he overshot. It was likely that this would not have been a problem had he been fighting anyone but me. I dodged a blow and managed to swing my blade around to nick his abdomen, watching as the blood slipped from his wound with a heavily green tint. We both paused, his eyes widening with an impressed surprise, before he launched his next barrage of blows that effectively knocked me to my feet, his sword then pressing firmly against my throat.

"Do it…" I murmured, a soft smirk creeping across my lips as the adrenaline pounded through my veins. For me, this feeling was perfection. The fear of death. Yet, with that feeling, death seemed almost meaningless.

"No," he said softly.

"Oh?"

"I have never once been wounded by another's blade," He explained, "It would be unjust to end your life."

"I told you," I smirked, "I fight here, or I die he-"

I never finished.

--

Six hours later, I woke, held captive in a Shinra holding truck and being told by the driver that Sephiroth had knocked me out with the hilt of the sword. Apparently, he said, I was lucky to be alive at all, and that Sephiroth had never been known to be the giving type.

"You'se bin givin a second chance at yer life, I says," The driver drawled, giving a nod of his head, his mere tone and abuse of his own words reminding me why I'd hated the English language. But, the Emperor had commanded we learn it. Not to blend with the Easterners, but to be able to fight back when they ever dared insult us. And quite often, they had. They'd come as ungrateful tourists to our lands, their words as sharp as their glares as they scrutinized our appearances, our differences. War was a matter of when, not if. The driver of the vehicle came to a sudden stop, and I sat defiantly as he demanded I head to the door. No matter, the door was flung open abruptly as three men with the glowing eyes and weapons stood there, smirks licking at their lips.

"Lookie here boys, a scared little mousie then," One remarked, "Maybe we should teach him some ov the words here in Midgar hey?"

His fellow snickered as he uttered a "Fuck ya, Wutaian scum, how ya like that? Can ya say that ya piece of trash? Say it with me now..."

I spat on him.

"You're not worth the ground you walk upon, you disgrace to Gaia," I hissed, as he wiped furiously at the saliva rolling down his cheeks and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me against the door of the truck. Had I not been handcuffed I would have killed him then and there.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" He barked, his eyes blazing, and that adrenaline spiked through me again.

"Set me down hick. Can you say that you piece of excrement? Should I speak slower? Ex-cre-ment… Say it with me…"

That got him fired up, and he kneed me in the stomach and smacked the back of my head with the butt of his gun as I fell to the ground, smirk now toying along my lips. Perhaps the Emperor knew what he was talking about.

"Get up!" he barked, hitting the back of my head once again. I blacked out momentarily, snickering groggily.

"It's difficult… to do so… when you keep striking me down…" I remarked. He raised his gun again and I braced for a hit that never came. Instead, the gun hit the ground, and my tormenter fell silent. I raised my eyes as a shadow fell over me. Sephiroth.

"Enough," He said dangerously, as the SOLDIER fumbled for his gun and nodded.

"Should I see any of you strike this man again, you shall deal directly with me," He continued, "By the book or not, depends on your actions at this moment."

They nodded hurriedly and stood rigidly, saluting as Sephiroth extended long gloved fingers to just below my shoulder and pulled me up by my arm. He met my eyes for only a moment, seemingly making sure I was conscious, before pushing me in front of him and guiding me into the nearby building.

"It would be wise not to try anything, warrior," He said quietly, as I felt the tip of his blade at my lower back, as my hands had just been toying with my cuffs. Escape… Sephiroth had made it impossible. As he lead me into a cell and ordered the guards to keep an eye on me, he held my gaze once again.

"If things go how I plan, this will only be temporary," He said flatly, before turning to the guards, "When I say a close eye, I mean as close as is possible. He's not your average PoW."

With that, he left, no further glance in my direction, even as I spat out a string of Wutaian curses. He caught me off guard however, as I came to learn that he could speak fluently in my own tongue. He stopped slightly, then replied with an "It would be wise to show courtesy, or I'll not use the hilt next time."

I resigned to the corner of my cell, and watched him leave, a small smirk on my lips.

--

SOLDIER was the most highly respected and commonly, the most despised, organisation within the Eastern world. They were a highly organized and structured force with some of the world's strongest men, enhanced by mako to the point that they were almost machines. It had been difficult for me to imagine controlling the planet's power for war and for battle, but I knew that if she were to disapprove, SOLDIER would not have remained for as long as it had. I came to learn much about SOLDIER, with Sephiroth visiting on an almost daily basis. He seemed to find me as somewhat of an experiment, and when I had asked if he did, he merely nodded slightly and gave the explanation that he was still determining what it was about me that made me tick. When I asked why, he fell silent and smirked slightly.

"In due time."

It was his response to many of my questions. When did he see the war ending, would there be peace between my people and his, would there ever be a way to breach the divide? And always, 'In due time'.

He was brutally honest, however. He never spared details, nor did he fabricate the truth when I asked specifics about the war, or asked him to tell me his experiences of war and battle. He did nothing to soften the blows. He had said once that Wutai was strong as an enemy, but we were a weak people amongst ourselves. I never believed it to be true. On one of his visits, Sephiroth sat a little quieter than usual and bore the news of Kodin's death, and the tale unraveled itself in the General's brutal details. For once, I'd wished he'd done something, anything, to soften the blow.

The Emperor had seen those with Midgarian blood in them to be traitors within the army, a weak link in his impenetrable chain. Kodin's mother, like my own, had come from Midgar's sister town, Kalm. We were now filth within our own homeland. He had been killed by the men he once fought alongside. Sephiroth's tale continued, each blow hitting lower in my chest, my stomach. My uncle, enraged with the grief of his son's death, had attacked the Emperor. It was a crime of treason in the eyes of our leader, and was punishable by death. My father remained alone in our four bedroom house, not one of his housemates bound to return.

"Devyan?" I'd said simply, my mind reeling, my chest constricting.

"He is safe. His wife and son begged they leave, should your Emperor discover his bloodline…"

Devyan, my brother, had been a monumental aspect of my life. Frequently, I'd turned to him for support, for guidance, as the eldest sibling and nine years my senior.

Our childhoods had been much the same, overshadowed with my father's beliefs that Rebecca was the blessing from Gaia. He'd lived with us until he was 26, before moving out with his then fiancée and conceiving their first child 2 years later. Now, he was on the run, persecuted by those he loved and protected, hunted by those he'd believed and cherished. Wutai had killed my cousin, destroyed my uncle, isolated my father, and deserted my brother. I had just recently turned 21 when my father's words had haunted me, and I'd made my first enemy.

--

A/N: Lemme know if you like, etc. I brought this story here to see if people would like to read more, basically, after I decided I want to make it into a multi-chap. PLEASE join the forum for more one-shots by me and other fanfic writers on there. You HAVE to be a member to read some boards, so join, join, join!