Disclaimer: I won nothing Final Fantasy and Death Note are property of their respective owners.

"Sephiroth proved to be uncontrollable for a number of reasons, Faremis," Dr. Hojo said as they trekked down yet another broken, gutted hallway. "My failings as a parent, however many they may have been, had nothing to do with Sephiroth's willfulness and pride. Sephiroth was uncontrollable because he was too potent. Too much force, too much energy, too much raw power was concentrated in a single person and this fueled his aggressive arrogance and disdain for authority."

"Of course I didn't mean he failed because of your parenting," Faremis said. Hojo waved his hand dismissively.

"Please don't apologize, as if I care that you insulted my parenting. That won't do anything but embarrass us both."

"I wasn't," Faremis said. They stopped before a metal doorway into another section of the lab, set aside from the others, winging out along the edge of the cliffs that plunged downwards into the northern crater valley dark with evergreens.

"Is this it?"

"He's in here," Faremis said.

"And his number?" A moment of silence. "You didn't give him a number, did you?" Hojo turned to see Faremis, feet planted firmly together, steeled in his resolve, determined not to be intimidated.

"I didn't," Faremis said. "I chose to encourage the family dynamic, and names are a large part of that." Hojo gazed at him with a narrow, slit-eyed suspicion.

"I see," was all he said. "Open up the door, then." Faremis touched the keypad by the entrance, then pulled it back.

"I need to check first. To see if he's…decent."

"Decent? Oh for god's sake—fine, fine, go ahead, see if he's decent, just don't take all goddamned day to do it." Hojo crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as Faremis tapped on the door. Clearing his throat, he called,

"Yazoo? We have—ah—company. We're coming in now." Faremis waited an extra moment by the door.

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Faremis?"

"Of course not—"

"Then open the door," Hojo nudged Faremis aside and opened up the door.

The small size and shape of the room was made all the more apparent in contrast to the few possessions scattered on the surfaces: a lamp made to look like a Wu-tai lantern, a statue of a deer drinking from a pool, a wooden jewelry box with a smudged mirror, empty of jewelry. The room had two windows. One was an observation window, bolted into the wall, that looked out into an adjacent hallway. This was discreetly covered with a faux embroidered red cloth bearing the image of a Wu-tai dragon in fraying thread. The other looked out into the valley. From this one, a cloth had been torn away; only a few tattered pieces were left, shriveled like empty chrysalis' on the curtain rod.

Yazoo was seated on the edge of the bed, profiled against the cool northern. His silver hair, falling down to his mid-back, lay flat and lusterless. He was holding a torn cloth in his hand. Hojo stepped into the doorway. Faremis remained behind him, waiting.

Hojo said nothing. He merely gazed at Yazoo who remained motionless, eyes fixed on the cloth in his hand.

Hojo closed the door again, without disturbing him. When he turned, Faremis was trembling. He was waiting for something, for anything and Hojo, knowing his desperate insecurity, contentedly let the moment for confrontation drift by them.

"Explain to me how he is designed to function," he said.

"What?" Faremis large eyes—big and wet, like a baby's—quivered as he spoke.

"The way the project was originally conceived, we were to split Sephiroth's genes into two separate clones," Hojo said, "thereby retaining all his power but divided into smaller, more manageable units. Where Sephiroth was one man who was far too powerful to be controlled, our little Sephlings would have all his power but portioned out into manageable bites. 041 is Sephiroth's intellect. 042 is his brute strength. Please explain to me what Yazoo is."

"He is the bridge."

"The bridge? Explain."

"041—Kadaj—Kadaj and Loz could not communicate," Faremis said. "There had to be a third, a go-between that facilitated communication between the brain and the strength for Spehiroth."

"I see," Hojo said softly. "And tell me, what is Yazoo? I mean, Kadaj is designed to embody Sephiroth's technical and planning capabilities, Loz his enormous physical strength. So tell me, if you please, what aspect of Sephiroth does our little Yazoo split off and himself embody?" Faremis large, wet eyes stared at Hojo with a quiet, anxious fear.

"His allure," Faremis said.

"His allure?" Hojo asked, lip curling. "You condensed and embodied my son's allure?"

"His charisma," Faremis said. "His men, they followed him, Hojo. They loved him, they, they would have died for him, they did die for him. I told you, Hojo, haven't I told you that the clones most vulnerable feature is their emotional centers? Kadaj and Loz were designed to work together: Kadaj planned, Loz carried out those plans. Well, I needed Loz to be obedient to Kadaj. Of course I did. I needed him to follow Kadaj's commands, but they had too much trouble communicating. The intelligence gap between them was too great; Kadaj talks in binary sometimes, and Loz has the vocabulary of a grade school child, that's how we made them, and we never though of such an obvious difficulty. We needed Yazoo, someone to go between the two, to help them communicate with one another. And Yazoo is Sephiroth's charisma, his allure; they both listen to him, both Kadaj and Loz, just like Sephiroth's men listened to him."

"I see," Hojo said. "So, rather than up Loz's intelligence just a bit or, perhaps, telling Kadaj to tone it down on the whole talking-in-binary thing, you opted for the third and, arguably, insanely more expensive and difficult option of creating a third clone to facilitate communication?"

"It was too late to modify the others—"

"It sodding was not!" Hojo snapped. "Kadaj was highly adaptable, highly modifiable!"

"This was the best way because it utilized their most vulnerable—"

"Bullshit, Faremis Gast," Hojo said. "I know exactly why—" But his anger, like most of his emotions, was short lived and easily pacified. They had reached the hall where Kadaj's room was located and he, on seeing Kadaj, was instantly entranced with him: arguably one of the most complex and intricately beautiful things, a fully functioning brain, that Hojo had ever built.

"I'm telling you Hojo," Faremis said. "I am telling you, it worked. It worked, it—"

"Why hasn't he responded to the inhibitors," Hojo asked, laying his hand on the glass. Kadaj remained in the middle of the floor, tracing his arcane binary curses on the witch's floor.

"We haven't been able to administer them," Faremis said. "He doesn't respond to tranquilizers and there is no way to get close to him."

"No way to get close to him?" Hojo said. In response, Faremis removed his jacket and showed his arm, wrapped up in gauze, blood leaking through the white-threaded mesh.

"It," he said, "is impossible to get near him."

"I believe you Faremis," Hojo said and, before Faremis could realize the set-up, he added, "I just thought maybe your whole happy-family-dynamic may have given you an in. I guess daddy is in the doghouse, eh? Nevermind. Grandpa is here now and grandpa does things a little differently."