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Part 2
Sephiroth followed Kate down one of the orphanage's upstairs hallways, adding it to his growing mental map of the building. Open doors lined the hallway, letting him see that each room was the same as the one before; six beds sitting perpendicular to the far wall, a small shelf to the left of each and a wooden chest at the foot. The beds themselves were neatly made and covered with mismatched patchwork blankets.
Kate led him to the end of the hallway then turned into the room on the left, stopping at the far end of the room in front of a bed no different from the others. "This will be your bed for the duration of your stay with us," she said, gesturing at it. "Clothes – we'll provide that now that we have your size – go in the chest, folded neatly, as do any private items. Anything else – such as books – go on your shelf. Meals are served at eight, noon, and six in the cafeteria on the first floor. There is a toilet just down the hall; full bathing facilities are downstairs. You are expected to keep your area neat, but coming from the army I don't think that will be a problem."
"I am not army. I am SOLDIER."
"Whatever. You should be fine. Do you have any questions?"
He looked around the room, then back at her. "There are five other beds here."
"You have five roommates. We try to keep similar ages together, so they're all eight."
"But I'm not."
"There's nothing we can do about that; I'm sorry."
A near-silent sigh. Great; he was supposed to share his personal space? Growing up as he had, he'd never had to do so. Even during SOLDIER training, he'd always been given special allowances due to who he was. And he'd certainly never been around children! How advanced were normal eight year olds? Could they speak yet? A horrible thought – they were toilet-trained, weren't they?
Oblivious to the thoughts running through his head, Kate smiled gently. "Lunch isn't too far away; someone will come to show you the way when it's time to eat. Until then, why don't you take the time to get settled in. I'm sure that in a few days, you'll find that it isn't really as bad as it might seem right now."
On that note, she made a hasty departure while he was still standing there staring at the extra beds, horrible thoughts running through his head.
Enough. He shook himself, pushing the thoughts from his mind with an effort. No use making things up; he'd see the reality for himself before too long. The imagined monster was always – all right, mostly – worse than the reality.
Another put-upon sigh, then he moved to his assigned bunk. He sat down on the side of the surprisingly-comfortable bed, sitting the toy bear he had been given down against the wall that ran down one side, then closed his eyes and let himself fall back onto it, careful to keep his still-booted feet off the blankets, his head landing on the pillow with a muffled crunch.
Blue-green eyes snapped open, even as one snowy brow rose in question. 'Crunch'? Since when did pillows crunch? There was no pain in his head, so he hadn't injured himself, but even so. Crunch?
He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at his pillow, for the first time noticing the little pile of multicolored paper that sat there. Now what?
He sat up facing the pillow, one leg curling up to let him sit more comfortably, though still keeping his feet off the covers – he should probably just take his boots off – then reached out and pulled the little pile to him, flipping through them quickly.
Various renditions of 'Welcome, Sephiroth' in untidy scrawls greeted him, along with more stick-figures and poorly-drawn people than he'd seen since he'd last taught a Third-Class reconnaissance course. Why...?
A small, confused shrug, then he placed the papers onto one of the empty shelves and lay back down, staring up at the white-painted ceiling and trying to relax. It was hard; he felt like he should be up, should be doing something. Well, he supposed that was because he should. He should be on a truck headed to Nibelheim with Zack; not lounging around in bed at some orphanage! He was SOLDIER!
A deep breath. Calm down. Calm. Think of Hojo's reaction. A wry smirk. Yes, that works. He could just see the miserable excuse for a man turning various shades of enraged. Beautiful. He felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. He sank further into the pillow, closed his eyes and let himself drift.
oOoOo
"Sephiroth?"
Blue-green eyes snapped open at the call even as he sat up abruptly, hand automatically going for the Masamune – which just wasn't there. He scanned his surroundings, searching. Where was it...? Stopped as he took in the sight of the other five beds the sensibly-dressed young man standing by the door, memory coming back in a rush. He was at an orphanage because Hojo had felt the need to prove his stupidity beyond a shadow of a doubt. Right. He remembered.
"Sephiroth?" the man asked again, taking a cautious step further into the room. "I'm Kevin. Kate sent me; lunch is ready." He lifted a bundle that rested in the crook of one arm. "I brought you some clothes, and some house shoes. I hope they fit; we've never had anyone quite your... size... before."
The white-haired man said nothing; rising from the bed to take the bundle from the other man. He looked down at it as he carried it back to the bed, frowning as he saw just what it was that he held. He had never worn clothes like that in his life. Well, the t-shirt was a bit similar to the plain things he'd been given to wear as a child by the scientists, but none of those had featured the colorful image of a cartoonish bird and the words 'I (heart) Chocobos'. At least the jogging pants seemed plain enough, as did the socks and shoes.
Another sigh; it seemed to be his day for them. At least none of the other SOLDIERs would see him.
A quick glance over his shoulder, then cold eyes narrowed. "Do you mind?" he ground out, seeing the other man still there, and staring.
"Wha-? Oh! No! Sorry!" the man stammered, turning his back. "Please, go ahead."
"Hn."
First on was that evil shirt. As much as he hated to admit it, it was a good fit, comfortable, warm enough, and helped to relieve the subconscious tension that being half-naked in a strange place had given him. Not that he would admit it, of course. The rest of the clothing was similarly adequate, though strange against his skin considering that he'd spent the greater portion of his life in skin-tight leather and this was anything but.
His leather pants and boots he folded neatly and placed in the chest, though not without a pang.
That done, he walked over to the other man and together they made their way down the hallway, then down the stairs toward the yet-unseen cafeteria.
"So," the young man said quietly as they went down the stairs. "You're Sephiroth?"
"Yes."
"So what's that like? Did you get teased a lot?"
"What?"
"You know, for being named after him. The Sephiroth. The most kick-ass guy ever." A small pause. "I guess it can't be that bad, if you'd grow your hair out and get the dye-job just to look like him."
"Pardon...?"
"Come on! You have to know about Sephiroth! The posters of him are everywhere; Shinra's poster-boy!"
"There are posters...?"
"You bet! I have the whole set! Every single one that's out so far, and the action figure!"
"Action figure? What's an action figure?"
Kevin stopped dead. Turned. Stared at him. Shook his head. "Man, you really did have it tough." He started walking again. "After lunch, I'll show you the play-room. We've got tons of action figures there. There's even a few Sephiroth ones, but none in as good shape as mine!"
oOoOo
Lunch at the cafeteria was an ordeal that he had the sinking feeling he was just going to have to get used to.
Being who and what he was, he was used to having all eyes on him when he chose to eat in one of the cafeterias in the Shinra complex set aside for SOLDIER use. He usually tried to avoid it, but he was obligated to spend a certain percentage of his meals with the men, in order to 'promote fellowship' or some other such corporate nonsense. He had gotten used to the way the noise in the room would dip sharply for a time after he entered the room, the way every pair of glowing eyes followed him with respect and a sort of almost-awe. And though they were SOLDIER as well, and would talk about him to each other in low tones when he was there, none of them ever tried to engage him in conversation. None until Zack, anyway.
But those were SOLDIER, and trained to respect authority.
These were children, and under no such constraints when it came to him.
"Why's your hair white?"
"Your eyes are weird. Are you sick or something?"
"Ha, ha! You've got hair like a girl! Nyeh, nyeh!"
"So what's your name?"
"I can turn my eyelids inside-out without touching them! Wanna see?"
"You're not saying anything. Are you one of those mutts, the guys that can't talk?"
"It's mutes, moron."
"Is not."
"Is too."
And he'd though Zack was the epitome of irreverent babble; these children were a hundred times worse! He'd have to apologize the next time he saw the man.
May it be soon!
"Hellllooooooo?"
oOoOo
Later that night, lying on his bed in the darkness illuminated only by a thin line of light that leaked in around the cracked-open door and bled in through the windows from the streetlights, the deep breathing of his five sleeping roommates echoing rhythmically through the room, Sephiroth considered his situation.
He would, he decided, be able to tolerate it, if not enjoy it. If this was what a vacation was like, then he was glad he'd never had one before. He'd been assured by multiple staff members that once the novelty wore off, the children would leave him alone more.
He could only hope.
True to his word, Kevin had indeed shown him to the play-room and liberated a Sephiroth action figure from the confused mess that was one of the toy boxes. He still couldn't define the feeling that had washed over him when he held that bit of vinyl and plastic in his hand and stared down into a very poor, molded approximation of his own face, dressed in an equally-questionable rendition of his typical apparel, accessorized with a tiny, blunted, bendable rubber Masamune with the bad silver paint-job. It was horror, but so much more as well. One was currently on his shelf, sitting on his little stack of welcome-papers.
Shinra was going to have a lot to answer for when he got back!
Assuming he got back.
No, he couldn't think like that! He would get back. The Shinra lawyers were unrivaled, and it was in the President's best interests to get his best fighter back as soon as possible. Wasn't it?
And even if it wasn't, he knew he could rely on Zack. Zack, the only man in the SOLDIER program that treated him like an actual person rather than some idol on a pedestal. Zack, who after imposing himself on the General for the first time one lunch hour had proceeded to drag him into a massive food-fight that had him washing vegetable matter out of his hair for a greater portion of the afternoon, then had the guts to join him again the next time he went to the mess for lunch.
Doubtless, Zack would come up with some crazy scheme that would boggle the minds of all involved, but somehow actually end up working. In some way, at least, and typically the least expected.
He could only hope that the Shinra lawyers could work this out before Zack was due back from Nibelheim.
TBC...
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Hmmm... that reads a bit like a filler-chappie, doesn't it? Can't be helped, I suppose. So, what did you think?