Put Your Lights On
10.04.05
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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.
This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.
Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.
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Chapter Twenty
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"What are we going to do?" Toriko asked Sephiroth as soon as they were back home. Outside, the mob had disappeared, having been swayed from their rage by Sephiroth's trumped-up story.
"Well," Sephiroth said, unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it onto the couch. "I expect we'll take about two months for you to 'learn' Continental—and then you'll go to school." He paused. "Do you want to go to school?"
"No," Toriko said emphatically. She had no desire to be around normal children whatsoever; they were cruel. Sephiroth nodded his agreement.
"Good," he said. "We'll make it three months, then; by that time, all the schools will have been in session too long to accept untried students."
Toriko nodded. "But what will I do if I'm not in school?"
"Improve your Continental," he said with a small smile. "But no; we'll figure out something." He paused for a moment and looked at her, his green eyes speculative. "How would you like to learn how to fight?"
"What, me?" Toriko exclaimed.
"Yes, you," Sephiroth said, his eyes sharpening. "You're my daughter, after all, and people are going to expect things of you."
True… "What kind of weapons?" Toriko asked, the image of the Masamune flashing through her mind. She tried not to shudder; every inch of that seven-foot blade was scary, and she didn't want a weapon like that.
"After all, I don't really want to learn how to fight... Just being able to defend myself would be enough."
"Considering your Wutaiese heritage," Sephiroth said, "I don't think you're going to get very tall; five foot six or seven at the most. Most swordsmen are large like me, so you're going to need a weapon with reach."
"Like a spear?" Toriko asked, gathering the impression from his mind.
"Probably," he agreed. Holding a hand up, he said, "Hit me."
Toriko gaped. "Wha... No!"
"On my hand," he said patiently.
"I couldn't strike you!" Toriko protested. "You're my father!" "And you'd probably pulverize me, besides..." She added silently in her head.
"This is to test your strength," he said. "Now make a fist and hit me."
Toriko reluctantly approached, balling one of her hands into a fist. Sephiroth glanced at it.
"Tighter," he said. "I don't see any tension in your hand." Toriko complied. "Good. Now put your weight behind it and hit me like you mean it."
Toriko lifted her fist and wondered where she could find the aggressive drive to do what he was asking her. Gingerly she threw her fist forward and winced as her knuckles smacked against his palm. She shrank as Sephiroth looked down at her.
"Do I have to attack you?" He asked in a dreadfully calm voice.
Toriko threw another punch, harder this time. Sephiroth lifted his other hand in a silent but eloquent gesture. Panicking, Toriko leaned back and hurled her weight forward, slamming her fist into the palm of his hand. For a moment, she was terrified she had hurt him; once, in a rare fit of temper, she had hit a counter in Hojo's lab and stared in horror as the ceramic counter had fractured, splintering into a million lines. She had the impression of the same thing happening to Sephiroth's hand just before a wave of pain suddenly exploded from her jammed wrist.
"Ow!" She squeaked, leaping back and clutching her injured hand. Far from being injured, Sephiroth had injured her simply by being unyielding.
"Not bad," he said, nodding thoughtfully and letting his hands drop to his sides. "You're at the level of a second-class SOLDIER right now."
Toriko nodded, her lips pressed together as she stifled her whimper of pain. It was second nature, to be silent in times of suffering. Sephiroth glanced at her wrist.
"It'll be fine in a moment," he said, and Toriko looked at him in surprise.
"You heal quickly too?" She asked even as the pain receded from her joint.
"Very." He said. "Sometimes it's inconvenient. Once I didn't immediately tend to a gunshot wound and later the flesh closed over the bullet. I had to reopen it and dig it out."
Toriko winced. "Did you really have to?"
"The bullet was lodged in my bone," Sephiroth replied. "It was rather uncomfortable."
Toriko couldn't imagine how that must have felt. Sephiroth tilted his head and studied her for a moment.
"You might be able to handle twin swords," he said. "Normal women don't have the upper-body strength to use them, but you're stronger than even most men—and you'll only get stronger with time. It's necessary that you harness that."
"Why?" Toriko asked, trying not to sound like she was whining. "I don't plan on fighting."
"The fight will come to you," Sephiroth said so seriously that Toriko looked up at him, alarmed. "When it does, you must be prepared."
Toriko swallowed, an inexplicable chill brushing over her. "Yes, Father. When will we start?"
"Immediately," he said. "Let's see how flexible you are."
Hojo had been very keen on keeping her physically fit, so Toriko could perform any number of acrobatic tricks and contortions. Sephiroth nodded as he gleaned this from her mind.
"Not bad," he said. "And your endurance?"
Hojo had seen to that too. Thanks to endless hours on a treadmill, Toriko was capable of running all day, measuring about ten miles an hour.
Sephiroth nodded. "Again, not bad. Did he try you out with materia?"
"Only once," Toriko said. "He wanted to see if I could call Fire, and I ignited his hair."
Sephiroth's brows shot up. "He knows better than not to set up a containment field when giving a subject materia."
"He did until I convinced him I couldn't do it," she replied, smiling at the memory. "He stepped in to take it from me, and I blew his horsetail off."
"You should have gotten the scalp," Sephiroth said, but smiled anyway.
"I'll do better next time," she said, smiling back.
Sephiroth leaned on the counter, idly picking at the buttons of his shirt. "You're coming with me to work tomorrow," he said. "It's the day I make the inspection of the Midgar Garrison, and you'll see the armed forces in action. Observe them carefully; I want you to be able to mimic everything you see."
"Everything?" Toriko exclaimed.
"As much as you can," he said, looking at her. "Observational learning is quite a powerful tool. It's best if you start training yourself to use it."
He was certainly asking a lot of her... Toriko swallowed and bowed. "As you wish, Father."
"Let's eat," Sephiroth said. "Would you like to learn how to cook?"
Toriko perked up. Now that was a skill more useful than fighting. "Yes," she said, trying not to sound too eager.
Sephiroth smiled, seeing through her subterfuge. "Change into some other clothes," he said. "You could get messy."
Toriko ran into the spare room, which was going to become hers in short order; Sephiroth hadn't said so, but it was his general feeling. Toriko paused for a moment in the room, suddenly aware of a strange feeling that had come over her. It wasn't fear or sadness or even anger; it was much too calm for that. She couldn't even say she was happy, though she definitely felt good. What was this odd feeling?
"I think it's called 'pleased," Sephiroth murmured quietly.
Pleased. Yes, that sounded right. Toriko smiled and changed her clothes.
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Author's note:
He really would have hit her if she hadn't punched. Sephiroth doesn't think it's wrong to hit people, let alone children in particular. Pain was used on him to make him cooperate, so Sephiroth thinks it's the normal thing to do. Toriko thinks it is as well, considering her circumstances and the place of women in traditional Wutaiese culture. Luckily for both of them, he didn't have to. Isn't fear a wonderful thing?
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