52/100: Hero. Angeal/Genesis.
It's pride not honour. And it's honour not honor... honestly...
Many thanks to Ice who inspired this!
Disclaimer - Don't blame me for despising American spellings. I'm English, I have every right to embrace the letter U. Also, these sexy characters are not mine. No matter what the drink tells me.
Hero
The Other Promise
"Angeal." Genesis glanced over to his life-long friend and lover from his comfortable position amongst the pillows of their bed.
The man in question did not raise his head from his laborious task but simply slowed down the repetitive motions of his hand – smoothing a thin cloth over two-tone silver metal.
Genesis shifted, crawling over to the end of the bed on all fours and sitting like a cat at the foot of it. "You've never used that thing. Your father gave it to you so you can use it."
"It is being used," was all Angeal said.
"But not properly," Genesis retorted indifferently. "Not like a sword should-"
"Swords are a symbol of pride, Genesis. I take care of mine." He ran his large, bare hands down the shiny surface, clearly seeing Genesis' frustration reflected in it. He smiled and continued.
"Pride is an important thing, Genesis. A man can possess all the strength in the world, but…" Genesis silently mouthed every word, knowing this little monologue off by heart as well as he knew LOVELESS. Hell, he'd heard it enough times over the years since Angeal got the 'pride' bee stuck in his bonnet when they became SOLDIER Cadets.
Sighing with a slight roll to his dark sapphire eyes, Angeal propped the Buster sword against the painted wall and stepped over to his redheaded friend.
Back then, as the man approached, Genesis' attention was spent undivided on him; now, though, there was just the sword. Angeal was dead… he had been for over 10 years now… and only now was the grief that had been all but absent during the desperation of the degradation, taking its toll upon the redhead.
The sword was just a shell; a meaningless blade stuck halfway into the ground serving no purpose. That was what it had become. Use had brought the wear, tear and rust that Angeal had always feared. Weathered down by the elements, it was just one more shape out in the desert.
The redhead fought back the threat of tears, clutching tightly on the hilt of the great sword to save himself from falling to his knees. Was this all that physically remained of Angeal in this world? The only thing that Genesis could reach out and touch as he replayed an eternity's worth of memories?
"A man without pride is a man without meaning." Genesis finished off Angeal's old favourite excuse for polishing the blade for hours on end and raised his face to the blue sky. Closing his eyes, Genesis could hear the loud purr of Fenrir's engine approaching.
Strife.
He was the one… the one to leave the sword out here; to cause this… this affront to everything Angeal ever believed. The redheaded SOLDIER flexed the fingers of his right hand, calling forth his own blade – the scarlet Rapier. More than a manifestation of pride, which Genesis preferred to convey in his appearance, his sword was his strength and a reflection of himself.
Flinging flamboyancy and his theatrical nature aside, he simply summoned the sword and let his arm hang by his right side.
"Without pride, a man is nothing," he whispered, reopening his eyes and lowering his head once more.
The motors of the great black bike ceased, replaced by lightly trodden steps. "What are you doing?" The blonde asked. He stopped a few metres behind the silent redhead. Blue eyes caught on the crimson blade as it seemed to pulse with some form of magic that felt far less than auspicious. Cloud gripped tightly to one of the many swords that made up Tsurugi.
"Do you know what this sword represents?" Genesis said coldly as he turned completely to face the smaller, younger male. He saw the confusion that crossed those boyish features momentarily, before he swallowed and lowered his hand from his sword.
"This is where Zack died… I…" Cloud started but trailed into silence when the look in Genesis' azure eyes changed; hardened.
"You. Zack chose you to be his legacy. Not this sword." Genesis stepped closer. His eyes were focused solely upon Cloud; he did not care where he trod. Rapier was raised; the runes etched deep into the metal smouldered white, growing brighter and brighter with every inch that the distance between the two decreased. "The Buster Sword was never meant to serve as a memory – a legacy – but never a memory. Can you comprehend that?"
To an equal pace of the redhead's advances, Cloud backed away; he didn't reach for his sword again. After losing two people he held dear to him, he knew what was going through Genesis' mind all too well. Painfully well. "Genesis, Zack told me that the sword was his pride and his dreams… I completed those dreams, but I have none of my own."
"None?" Genesis was just slightly shocked. The hero of Gaia was just… what kept him going?
The moment was evanescent; gone in the blink of an eye. "Then the sword goes to someone who has dreams and pride." The redhead stopped and stood up straight. He brought his right hand up to his chest, adopting a pose with his weapon that Angeal had meditated in the moment before entering a battle. It was a rare moment of pure contemplation, when the mind could be filtered into the blade that would become their protection. For Genesis, once he thought of his strength; of the thrill of battle and the adrenaline he had thrived upon. How things had changed since the days of ShinRa…
"You want to fulfil your promise to the Goddess; to save the Planet and become a hero." Cloud walked behind Genesis in his reverie, but his voice changed as he spoke, growing deeper and deeper and adopting another accent, one with that slight Middish countryside twang. The voice had once been the only one Genesis heard for days upon end – it was the only voice that he could never ignore for even a moment, no matter how annoying it seemed at times. His mako blue eyes snapped open and Rapier fell back down to his side in a heavy arm. "Angeal," he whispered, staring blindly at the unearthly form of his dark haired lover.
Angeal smiled slightly, in the way he reserved only for Genesis. "Take care of it?" The SOLDIER held out his right hand, one that was wrapped securely around the hilt of his prestigious sword. "Goddess knows you've seen me so many times you know how," he laughed wholeheartedly. Genesis couldn't help but join in, even if he was always close to breaking into tears.
"I… I promise I'll never use it."
"I should think so too," came that characteristic dry humour. "And Genesis," Angeal leaned forwards, enough to breathe into the redhead's ear, and for a moment, it was as like he was alive again. Genesis wanted to reach out and embrace his friend, but the fear that it would break the spell was too great. For now, he thrived, like he would have to for the rest of his life, on the smallest things. "Even without your pride, you always meant everything to me."