Something must have gone wrong, but he could not for the life of him think of what. Sephiroth had not heard the voice of the planet. True, he was only five, though he looked at least eight, but every test had proved negative. Although he was one-third Cetra, and was twice as mature, twice as developed as any other child his age, it seemed the experiment had been a failure. It was hard to believe his beautiful, green-eyed boy could fail at anything. All the same, the report had been sent. Sephiroth would not be leading anyone to the President's beloved Promised Land that flowed with makou energy. Hojo didn't much care about that at this point. It was a disappointment to be sure. He and Gast and Ifalna had all wanted to see what insights the child had to offer regarding the Cetra, but none had been forthcoming. Gast had suggested that perhaps he was too young, that they might have to wait until adolescence set in before Sephiroth would begin to exhibit any latent abilities. Ifalna, rather tellingly, had remained silent. She thought her secret was safe, and it was in so far as Hojo was not about to tell anyone else that she could hear the voice of the planet while his son could not.

Had Lu been here, she might have been allowed to take Sephiroth home. Perhaps they would have been a happy family. Not a normal one, to be sure, but happy in their way. He and Lu had been happy. It had not been the sort of wild, passionate romance so often depicted in the cinema, but he felt confident in saying that they had been happy together if only for a few short months. Maybe Sephiroth could have been sent to school; taken out of the lab and put in amongst other children, peers, friends. But Lu was not here. She was gone. And now Ifalna and Gast were leaving too.

"NOW he approves your funding? After four years?"

"President Shinra wanted to be sure, just as we did," Gast told him, stuffing files into a box. "I know it's disappointing, but maybe Ifalna and I can discover the missing piece. We still don't know terribly much about the Cetra. If we can uncover more, maybe we can help."

"Maybe," Hojo reluctantly agreed. "And what about Sephiroth?"

"He still has you," Gast had smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine."

And then they had left. Both of them. Gone, just like that. His only friends, his only family, the only other people in the world who had been there from the beginning. Well, that wasn't strictly true. There was still the Turk, but he wasn't going to be any help, just a nuisance. Inwardly, Hojo sighed. Some things never changed.

'A nuisance, yes,' she agreed. 'However, he may yet be useful. The child is still too young, far too young.'

"Too young for what? To hear your voice? To understand?" For months Hojo had been hearing her voice himself, the many makou and Jenova self-treatments finally paying off. At one time he'd thought she was simply the voice of his own doubts, but now he knew better. The Cetra was speaking to him as she'd once spoken to her own people; thought to thought, feeling to feeling. He still missed Lu dreadfully, but with Jenova in the back of his mind, he didn't feel so alone.

'Yes, too young to hear, to understand, but he will. He will be great, a prince among his people. All others will look to him for guidance, for protection, to lead them.'

"Do you think so?"

'Of course, our love. But the child, our son, he must be taught. A prince without strength and wisdom is no ruler at all. He must be trained, tested. He must learn. We shall teach him.'

The use of the royal 'we' had thrown him at first, but she had been queen among her people. It only made sense that she would still speak like a monarch. But she was not the ruling party he needed to persuade.

"Perhaps. First we'll have to see what President Shinra says."

"The boy has not heard the voice of the planet, then?" President Shinra remarked, setting the report on his desk. "That's disappointing."

"He hasn't heard the voice of the planet YET," Hojo insisted. "Sephiroth is only five. In every other aspect he is above and beyond developmentally. As you can see in the report, he looks and behaves more like a seven or eight year old despite his age."

The President nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, very impressive. However, the goal of the project was to revive the Cetra."

"With respect Mr. President, there is not yet any proof that we haven't. We have no idea if the Cetra were born speaking to the planet or if it is something they grew into. Indeed, it might be a mark of adulthood. Sephiroth may not hear the planet's voice until he's thirteen or so." There was every indication that Sephiroth would probably begin puberty around ten or eleven, but there was no need to rush. Hojo wanted every advantage, every second he could gain for the boy.

The President nodded congenially. "I see. You're right, of course. I had not meant to imply that the project should be scrapped. Sephiroth is an exceptional child, after all. I suggest adding him to the SOLDIER program. He's already above average strength and intelligence. Physical training would be good for him."

"Indeed, Mr. President," Hojo began, amazed at the steadiness of his own voice. "The SOLDIER program would benefit from such a candidate."

"Good, have the boy transferred to Deepground."

Hojo felt his mouth go dry, his insides cold. It took an active force of will not to swallow. Deepground, so named for its location on Old Midgar soil, deep within the bowels of the new Shinra building, had a decidedly sinister reputation. It had started innocently enough as an intensive care unit for mortally wounded soldiers. Now however… If the rumors were true, if the reports were to be believed, it had mutated into something else entirely. Yes, he had given his own child to the Jenova project, but infusing a baby with the cells of an ancient race of other humans was one thing. What happened down there... He'd read about the little girl who had taken to stabbing her keepers with forks and pencils because she no longer felt pain herself, about the little boy who'd pulled his mother into a black hole upon leaving her womb, and his elder brother who wore chains so heavy they would have crippled a behemoth but only barely restrained his unnatural strength.

No, Hojo vowed to himself. No, Sephiroth would not have the likes of THEM for playmates.

Manners and decorum had been drilled into him as a child; courtesy and honor above all else. Therefore, he closed his eyes and nodded, making a small bow out of the gesture.

"Actually, Sir, I'd like to keep him here."

The President blinked and frowned, not angry so much as confused. "The Science Department? Why?"

"I've seen the files on the current program," he said, allowing himself a sneer. "Chaos. It's not experimentation so much as mucking about blindly without rhyme or reason. True experimentation is methodical, intentional, deliberate."

"Get to the point, Professor."

"Mr. President, every experiment needs a control. Sephiroth will be that control. He's already twice as tall, as strong, and as smart as a child his age should be. It's possible he may yet hear the voice of the Planet as he matures. Let him be trained here, privately, away from the others in Deepground. After all, you'll need a general to command all these SOLDIERS."

The President stared at him with narrowed eyes and then nodded thoughtfully. "You raise a good point, Professor. Very well, have the boy trained separately, and we'll see in a few years if he's fit for command."

"Thank you, Sir."

Hojo nearly melted with relief once safe inside the glass confines of the elevator. Allowing himself to slouch against its transparent wall, he tried to steady his breathing, to calm his racing heart. That had been too narrow an escape, and he was not yet done fighting for Sephiroth's safety.

'Peace, our love, peace,' Jenova's voice drifted around him like music, as did the sensation of arms around him in an internal hug. 'The child will be safe. No harm shall come to him. We will teach him, train him. He will learn to defend himself and all shall fear his might and wrath.'

"I don't know about that," Hojo chuckled weakly as the elevator slowed to a stop with a 'ding'. "How am I supposed to train a five-year-old for SOLDIER? Yes he can read and write above level, but he's still a baby. MY baby."

'He need not conquer nations today,' Jenova soothed, sounding amused. 'Must not every journey begin with a single step? Put a wooden sword in his hands. Let him train with the other raw recruits. Will your sit-ups and push-ups harm him?'

"No," Hojo agreed, breathing finally steady. "No, of course not."

'Besides,' she went on, 'There is always the Other. If you fear for our son's safety, you can always test him first.'

He didn't mind her referring to Sephiroth as hers. He was, after all, one-third Cetra. She had reason to be concerned about him, and she did have a point. Although the first attempt to conduct an experiment on the Turk had ended in disaster, it had also yielded some interesting results. Apparently the Turk was profoundly allergic to Jenova, but at the same time he'd survived a supposedly fatal disease that had eradicated the Cetra as a species. He should have died. Indeed, everyone- himself included- thought he had. Except the Turk had miraculously revived in the midst of his own autopsy, which had been rather awkward for all parties involved. There was extensive damage to be repaired, but the Turk's body had accepted all manner of foreign tissue- a lung, a liver, bone and skin grafts, and gallons of blood- with only the same, unique complication each and every time: a physical manifestation of a different guardian creature. Or, in layman's terms, a new limit break.

The demon Chaos he had anticipated, considering the Turk had a summon materia implanted in his heart. The other three had been more of a surprise. The Turk had survived Geostigma, but not without sustaining some damage. His liver had needed to be replaced. Not just a lobe, all of it. Out of curiosity, he'd selected something different out of the inventory of organs. It was not the right blood type, not even the right species, and yet the Turk's body had accepted both the foreign flesh as well as the blood. Once he was well enough, he'd taken the Turk out of the makou tank to see what would happen. A Behemoth had happened, a species once thought extinct. If he could bring back a Behemoth, surely his son would grow to hear the planet, to hear his mother's voice just as Hojo himself did? The incident had cost the Turk several ribs that had had to be replaced. He'd taken the skin and bone from a man who'd suffered his own scientific misfortunes. When that creature had surfaced, the force necessary to take him down had cost the Turk a lung. He replaced it with one from a woman. She wasn't much to look at when she came to the front. Indeed, Hojo felt rather sorry for the poor creature, but he couldn't very well take her out of the Turk's body now that she was part of it. Jenova was right. Whatever he threw at the Turk, he would recover from. The other beings in his body would keep him alive. A useful quality, considering what he would soon have to do.

Deepground began its training young. The children there were only a year or two behind Sephiroth and were already undergoing combat training. He'd seen what they were being subjected to in order to build their endurance, their immunity, their ability to bear up under pain. Sephiroth would be expected to undergo similar training. Hojo swallowed hard. It would have to be done, but better by his hand than the savages who made their home around Reactor Zero. They were not parents, they were not even teachers. At best they might be considered commanding officers, but 'jailors' was closer to the truth. They did not care about these children, not the way he cared for Sephiroth. Well, discipline was part of being a parent. It would have to be done, but in this case, it would be done in love.