Disclaimer: Sephiroth and anybody else mentioned belongs to Squaresoft. And I will never have enough money to buy them. So don't sue me.
A/N: This is just a little piece from Seph's POV. Um…yeah.
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What am I? Just a SOLDIER? The great General? A killing machine?
How about a human being?
Apparently not. At least, not to them. Not to Hojo, not to Shinra…not to the people whose lives I ruined in Shinra's name…not to anybody.
I'm beginning to question my humanity myself.
But I must be. I have feelings. I've never been allowed to show them, but I do.
And I feel pain. Desolation. Confusion. Abandonment. Unpleasant emotions that no human being should have to silently endure for so long. I have, though, and continue to.
Why?
Because no one sees beyond the Masamune. I kill with it, and that's all that matters.
No one looks deep enough into the Mako eyes to see the heartbreak that's slowly eating away at me. Even if I could display it, no one would care. Machines don't hurt, do they?
Machines aren't tortured, either. They aren't abused by sadistic fathers. They aren't denied a childhood. They aren't forced into SOLDIER to prove a scientific point. They aren't punished when they show 'weak' emotion.
I'm the great and mighty General Sephiroth. Shinra's pride and joy. The personification of sheer, impenetrable power. Shinra doesn't stumble, or cry, or bleed. Therefore, neither should I.
And on the outside, I don't. I don't falter in the face of the enemy. I don't shed tears when a young SOLDIER is slain before he has a chance to truly know life. I don't bleed, because no one ever proves skillful enough to physically wound me.
But on the inside, I do all three. When I return to my apartment after battle, I return to emptiness…to nothing and no one. I fail before the foe that is despair, realizing I have no one to call a friend, and probably never will. I sit alone in the darkness…in the silence…and weep. I shed countless tears of anguish, not understanding why my life is as it is. And several times have I bled, taking the Masamune's killing edge to my wrists, meaning to be rid of my mortal shell.
And every time I recover, I weep still more. Life always manages to defeat me, as miserable as it is. One of the few things that can defeat me, yet it is the cruelest victor of them all.
When one is dealt such a bitter hand, one can't help but wonder why fate has deigned to cheat them of a true existence.
I can't help but think I'm cursed. That perhaps, way back before my memory even serves me, I did, or caused, something to deserve this harshness. It is the only way I can rationalize this hell I am trapped in.
But there is always the lingering, nagging twinge that convinces me otherwise. It wheedles me into believing there's a reason for my continuing to draw breath when the lone happiness I am able to find is hoping that when I cut myself and pass out, I won't wake up again.
I am an intelligent man. Which is how I know well enough that should I succeed in my attempts to sever myself from this world, no one would mourn my death. I…no…the General, would no doubt be honored in passing, but since I am just that, the General, no one will miss me…Sephiroth.
Yes. The General cries. He bleeds. And his soul hurts more than any human being's should.
But he is only the mightiest SOLDIER alive.
He is not a person.
I am, but people don't see me.
Why should they?
The world has the General, and that is all it needs.
It doesn't need another wounded soul trapped in a life it never wanted.
It doesn't need…me.