Chapter 10: Hated Body Art
Later Sephiroth sat on his bed holding his affronted hand gingerly. Hojo had allowed him to return to the old bunkroom that he and his friends had occupied for the first two years of school, as soon as the tattoo was completed. Sephiroth stared at his hand in disgust and shame, the black one still glistening wetly. The Roman numeral stretched thickly from just underneath his knuckles to almost the top of his wrist.
For now, he sat alone in the room, as the cleaning staff had not made it there yet. Looking to the empty beds around him, he was glad there was no one to witness his shame.
He hated the tattoo and everything it stood for. It made Sephiroth grimly aware of the fact that he was a slave. A slave to the will of Shinra and Hojo, and no matter how old or how strong he got, he could never escape them.
He rubbed the tattoo lightly wanting nothing more than to tear it away. Then it struck him, I'll take it away. Then I'll show them that no matter what, I'll come out ahead.
Jumping off of the bed, his eyes glowing brightly with wildness and a huge grin plastered on his face, Sephiroth ran out of the room and headed toward the science labs.
It didn't take him long to discover the box of scalpel blades stowed away in Mr. Heibert's desk. Taking one, he carefully replaced the box and closed the drawer, hoping that no one would notice, then went in search of a place that would be a bit more private than the bunk room.
With the day nearing into late afternoon, Sephiroth found himself in the boys' washroom, standing before a sink, looking himself in the mirror. The bathroom had already been cleaned, so he knew that he would have the place to himself for at least a few hours.
Taking the scalpel blade in his left hand, he poised it above the tattoo, hesitating momentarily at the irony of what he was about to do. Swallowing hard, Sephiroth set his jaw, affirming his decision and drew the blade lengthways down the back of his hand. Immediately, slightly iridescent crimson blood flowed from the wound.
Sephiroth watched as his blood dripped into the sink. It glittered jewel-like from his latest mako injection, on the white porcelain before disappearing down the drain. As he worked at the tattoo, the drip turned into a stream and then a river, until the entire sink was painted red. Still Sephiroth didn't stop and was barely aware when his body slipped to the floor, his head narrowly missing the edge of the sink.
Opening his eyes slowly, Sephiroth tried to remember where he was and what had happened. As his memories woke up, he brought his left hand to his head and sat up slowly. Looking about himself, he noticed that he was sitting in a pool of partially dried blood, the scalpel blade a few feet away.
Bringing his right hand up to his face, he slowly turned it. The violated skin had healed leaving not even a scar, but to his utter disappointment, the black one still stood out starkly against his pale skin.
"No," he moaned, reaching for the scalpel blade once again.
His hand faltered and he lowered the scalpel again, knowing that if the first attempt hadn't worked than undoubtedly the second wouldn't have much success either.
Picking himself up, he stared sorrowfully at the blood covered sink and floor. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that he was standing amidst a murder scene.
Going to one of the toilets, he flushed the bloody blade and set about cleaning up the mess, lest someone find it and begin to wonder.
Depositing the final bloody paper towel in the toilet and giving it one last flush, Sephiroth peered around himself, satisfied that the bathroom looked the same now as when he had first got there. Wondering briefly at the time, Sephiroth exited the washroom and found it to be early in the morning yet. Slinking back to the bunkroom, he changed out of his soiled clothes and then set out to find something with which to cover the horrid tattoo; the last thing he wanted was for his friends to see the hideous mark.
As he wandered through the hallways of the Academy, he tried to think of a believable story should anyone question his new tattoo. Thus it took him a moment before he realized the presence of the man that had stepped into stride with him.
Stopping, Sephiroth looked up at the man, who had also stopped, to find the Dean's kind face looking down at him.
The Dean smiled, his soft blue eyes twinkling. "Good morning Sephiroth."
"Good morning sir." Sephiroth replied politely, looking up at the Dean's tall figure.
"I thought you'd be out by the train station by now." The Dean said, a hint of humour in his deep voice.
"I'm looking for something." Sephiroth stated, before starting on his way again, reminded of the fact that his friends' train was to arrive soon and he had yet to find something with which to cover his hand.
"Ah, I see." The Dean nodded in understanding. "Perhaps something with which to cover that?"
Sephiroth stopped again, his left hand immediately going toward his right hand. Stupid, stupid! He berated himself; you should have at least covered it with your sleeve.
"Don't worry. I think I know what you're looking for." The Dean said, the humour gone from his voice to be replaced with pity. "Follow me."
The Dean started forward again and Sephiroth hesitated unsure of weather or not to trust the man, but then slowly followed as he realized he didn't have much choice.
The Dean led them to his office and, after indicating to Sephiroth to take a seat, removed a box labelled 'Lost and Found' off the top of a tall bookshelf. Taking a seat behind his desk, he began rummaging through the box, humming softly. A few minutes of rummaging and the Dean produced a set of white cloth gloves from the box and, tossing them to Sephiroth, ordered him to try them on.
Sephiroth knew instantly that they would be too big, but did as ordered anyway. "They're too big." He remarked before setting them on the desk.
The Dean began rummaging again and produced another two sets of gloves. "Well that's it." The Dean stated sadly, setting the box on the ground.
The first pair was a set of soft black leather gloves that were by far too small. The second set was a pair of old brown leather gloves that had obviously seen better days.
"Well?" The Dean questioned, his blue eyes observing Sephiroth intently.
"The brown ones would fit, but my fingers are too long." Sephiroth remarked, placing the gloves back on the desk and gazed solemnly at his hands, watching as he deftly moved his fingers about.
"That all?" The Dean questioned, this time opening the drawers on his desk. Removing a pair of scissors, the Dean took the battered brown gloves and set to work shearing the fingers off, whistling the same tune he had been humming moments before.
"But... don't those belong to someone?"
"At one time." The Dean stated, not pausing in his task. "But they've been in this box for a very long time. So I don't think anyone will mind.
"There," the Dean said, passing the now fingerless gloves back to Sephiroth.
Sephiroth took the gloves and was happy to note that they now fit comfortably as well as hiding the awful tattoo. Looking back up at the Dean to thank him, Sephiroth found him pulling a paper from another drawer. The Dean passed the paper and a pencil to Sephiroth, "I want you to trace your hand for me," the Dean ordered, indicating the paper in Sephiroth's hand with a nod of his head.
Sighing impatiently, Sephiroth did as ordered and then handed the pencil and drawing back to the Dean.
"Thank you," the Dean said, taking the paper and studying it intently. "You should get going now or you'll miss your friends' train."
Sephiroth nodded and, standing up quickly, moved to leave before the Dean called him back.
"And Sephiroth," Sephiroth turned back to see the Dean put the paper down and watch him with a piercing gaze that Sephiroth found slightly uncomfortable, making him feel like he had done something wrong. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I want you to come see me."
"Ah, yes sir." Sephiroth answered nervously.
"I mean it Sephiroth. Now matter how big or small... you come to me first." The Dean's voice was oddly serious, his tone commanding, and yet Sephiroth felt that if he could trust anyone, that it was this man.
"Yes sir, I will," he replied, his tone more steady this time.
The Dean smiled and nodded. "Good. Now you'd best be off."
Sephiroth nodded and quickly exited the office; the last thing he saw was of the Dean's grey head bowing to study his handprint again.
New blood joins this earth
And quickly he's subdued
Through constant pained disgrace
The young boy learns their rules
With time, the child draws in
This whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all his thoughts
The young man struggles on and on, he's known
A vow unto his own
That never from this day
His will they'll take away
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been
What I've felt
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub thee "Unforgiven"
Unforgiven by Metallica
eta-narudoragon: Hmm… Yes… Cassandra. If you think that's sad, just wait! And yes, Yeah for Sephiroth!!! I can't wait until I finish the whole Academy part, then we can get to the real fun and good news I have most of that typed up already. Well, ta ta and can't wait to here from you.
Kitty(): I'm not sure if you made it this far, but I'm guessing not since I haven't received any more reviews from you. Anyway…. I resent the fact that you think this is a Mary Sue. If you actually did keep reading, I hope you've changed your mind. If you didn't… well that's your loss then, eta-narudoragon and Marimba are enjoying it.