The last thing Sephiroth wanted to see when he came back to life was Yen Sid's wrinkly face filling his vision. But beggars can't be choosers, and dead men should be grateful to be alive again.
"Which way did he go?" the wizard demanded gruffly.
Sephiroth groaned and propped himself up on his elbows. His head was pounding, and his newly healed skin had that tight, itchy feeling. And his black leathers were burned in places.
He sighed. They had been brand new.
"Which way?" Yen Sid repeated, his eyes growing darker with power. He looked like he about to cast a spell in every direction out of pure frustration.
"Gosh, I'd like to know who it was first, don't ya think?" Sephiroth looked over his shoulder to see the small Mouse King standing behind him, holding hilt of the oversized Masamune in his white gloved hand. "You feel okay, Seph?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Fine." Sephiroth took his weapon from Mickey and used it as a crutch to regain his feet. "I don't know where he went. And I didn't recognize his face."
Yen Sid's bushy eyebrow rose at that. "You imply you recognized something else," he said.
Sephiroth nodded. "His wing. Pure white, just like mine, but on his right side."
The king's eyes widened, and the royal Keyblade appeared in his hand. "Ya don't say?" he said, his easy reply at odds with his defensive action.
"We're wasting time here," the powerful wizard growled. "He could be anywhere in the castle now. We must find him."
"I'll do it," Sephiroth assured, sheathing his sword safely. "He was panicked, disoriented. He'll head for somewhere quiet and dark, someplace he can hide."
Yen Sid watched him carefully. "How do you know this?"
"I saw it in his face," the silver-haired man answered. That, and Sephiroth knew that this man was what Zack had been trying to warn him about. No, not warn, he thought, prepare. You won't be alone, Zack had said. Sephiroth longed to believe him. He readied a simple spell and shrouded himself in magical protection.
The wizard grunted in displeasure and crossed his bony arms over his chest. "Other spells could be more effective than Shell. He's a fire starter; you should use ice elementals to freeze him. Or silence him altogether."
"This will do," Sephiroth snapped. "If I appear too aggressive, he'll strike like he did before."
"Just be careful. We'll be right behind you if you need us," the King warned, placing a hand on Yen Sid's arm to stop his protest and hold him back. Sephiroth went on alone.
He paced around the courtyard, where most of the snow had already melted in the grass, turning the soil soggy. There was no sign of the intruder, no fresh footprints in the mud. Sephiroth continued on down the long western corridor. It was protected from the rising sun, still cast in grey shadows.
This is where I would have gone, Sephiroth thought, checking each room for the redheaded man. Who was he? And why did he seem so familiar?
"Zack," Sephiroth sighed as he opened the door to the empty library. His old friend's words made Sephiroth believe that this man was not an enemy. At least, not yet.
Though the fireball didn't exactly help.
Sephiroth stopped walking suddenly, freezing in the empty hallway. There was no noise, no sound of breathing, but he sensed a presence. His glowing green eyes fell on a small door that led to the cupboard under one of the staircases. It was the sort of small place that mops and brooms are stored; the sort of place someone might crawl into, naked, after falling from the sky.
Sephiroth opened the door slowly and peered inside.
A blast of fire deflected off the magic barrier surrounding him, but a few brooms weren't so lucky. Another stream of flames was easily dodged. Sephiroth sighed and looked again into the dark closet.
"Are you finished?" he asked.
Flashing eyes that mirrored his own glared back at him. The gravelly voice replied, "Come closer and we'll see."
"Don't be afraid," Sephiroth said, reaching his hand out slowly. The man in the closet remained motionless. His pale skin was covered in dirt and grime, and as Sephiroth got a better look, it seemed that the marks on his face weren't the only tattoos. There were black designs on his elbows, his chest, climbing up his ribs on his left flank.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he continued, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice that promised, "Yet."
His fingers were so close to the other's arm, he could feel the body heat flowing off that marred skin. Slender fingers finally closed around the redhead's forearm, and instead of struggling, he gave a short gasp. Sephiroth felt a jolt run through his system as well, like some sort of current. He looked down at the crouching man, and saw that his eyes were cleared of their sparkling green fields. Instead, normal human eyes looked back, complete with black pupils, bloodshot whites, and green glass irises.
"Your eyes," Sephiroth whispered.
"Yours have changed," the redhead hissed back, pointing at his face.
"They did?" The swordsman lifted a hand to his cheek as if to check by touch, but he knew somehow that this man spoke the truth. He would have to find a mirror to evaluate the situation, but later. "My name is Sephiroth," he ventured.
"I know," the stranger shot back.
Sephiroth frowned and retracted his hand. "How?"
"Come on," the other snorted. "Everyone's heard of the Great Sephiroth." There was a wicked gleam in his eye. "They say you can kill anything."
"That was a long time ago," the silver-haired man said quietly. "Things have changed. But…you remember?"
The other opened his mouth, and Sephiroth could see the thousand questions he was about to ask, all boiling down to one thing: What's happened to me?
And Sephiroth didn't know the answer to that.
"Be like stone," a gruff voice said over his shoulder, and Sephiroth whirled to see the dark eyes of Yen Sid ablaze with magic.
"No, don't—"
But he was too late. He turned back to the redhead to catch the look of fear on his thin, pale face before his body went rigid and still, like a statue.
"Why did you do that to him?" Sephiroth snarled at the wizard.
"Because he is a danger to himself and the citizens of this castle, and it would be prudent to immobilize him while we have the chance," Yen Sid replied with a lofty air. "The King agrees with me."
"Your Majesty?" The Angel looked down at his liege, standing a little behind the sorcerer.
Mickey nodded gravely, his eyes still drawn to the captive's frozen face. "I know who he is, Seph. He's…well, gosh, I should say he was a very powerful person, working for the darkest of forces." The little mouse looked up at Sephiroth. "He was a Nobody, the Eighth of Thirteen."
Sephiroth glanced back at the stranger in the closet, his brow furrowed. He'd read about the Organization, and its ferocious members. But this one?
"He's an Angel," Sephiroth protested. "He bears a wing."
"It's an impossibility," Yen Sid railed. "A trick of the Dark Forces. A Nobody cannot become an—"
"I did." Sephiroth stood taller, towering over even the imposing wizard. "Who can pretend to know the logic of the Light?"
"You weren't a Nobody!" the wizard roared. "Nobodies are made from nothing, they return to nothing, they can't be something."
"But the wing—"
"There's a chance he could be a real Angel, sure," the King soothed. "But ya gotta admit, we should be careful with this one."
"What will you do to him?" Sephiroth asked, impulsively reaching for a slightly-singed dustcover on a hook in the closet. He spread the cloth over the man's bare shoulders to hide his nakedness.
"Nothin' bad," Mickey promised. "We just need to ask him some questions, find out what the heck is goin' on."
"I'll take him to an observation chamber, Your Majesty," Yen Sid said, whispering a spell to levitate the frozen youth. Sephiroth bit his tongue as the fabric around the man slipped, and tied two of the corners together to keep it around his throat. Then he could only watch him float away, a stone self, with Yen Sid leading him down the hall.
"You're eyes are back to normal," the King said suddenly. "What happened?"
"Not sure," Sephiroth said distractedly. "Sire, what's that man's name?"
"The Flurry of Dancing Flames," he answered. "Though, at times," the mouse sighed, "I've heard him called Axel."
"Axel." Sephiroth rolled the word across his tongue. It didn't feel anything like "Zack" or "Cloud" or "Aerith". Sephiroth couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.
Author's Note: Some of your reviews sound a mite worried, but please don't be. I swear there isn't any Disney character sexing in this story. All sexing will be humanoid on humanoid; call me old-fashioned. Also, I know this is slow going, but after this chapter, excitement and stuff starts to pick up, I promise, and everything will (sort of) start to make sense. Thanks for reading!
