Rumors

by the infamous and notorious tocasia

2/4/2018

84. imaginary, shame, echoes for Seph&Zack Friendship 100 Themes

Sephiroth liked rumors. Usually.

tags: Tseng, AU, Sephiroth and Zack Friendship, shameless matchmaking, rumors, memories, the war in Wutai, something soft that shimmers, silly, vanity, interior monologues, the Shinra Times, interdepartmental rivalry, they always talk about who they like


It wasn't the usual place. Sephiroth wondered what they'd be able to talk about here. Under muted lamplight, tables teemed with customers pretending not to eavesdrop. The true color of the glassware was hard to discern. He looked again. Pale green.

He waited for Tseng to say something.

"I thought maybe we could just talk." Not work-related, then.

"Of course." They'd known each other for years; it wasn't that strange.

Tseng began with uncontroversial news, common knowledge disappointingly bereft of encoded messages. Frost had struck the orange groves south of Junon early this year, raising prices. There were reports of earthquake swarms near Cosmo Canyon.

"No serious damage, I hope?" Sephiroth asked, patiently.

"Not that I'm aware," Tseng replied. Which meant there wasn't. Good.

Neither of them ordered the fish. This was Midgar.

Tseng shifted in his seat. What was bothering him? There must be something. Unless this conversation was cover for a different scheme? Hmm. That might be a matter of mutual concern...

"I haven't seen Reno around lately. Is he alright?"

"He's out of commission after a run in with those nasty squirrel skunk monsters. Trickplays, I believe."

"Ah." Tseng would know his sympathetic wince wasn't false.

He'd stick with trivial topics too, until Tseng volunteered whatever information he wanted to share. "Any opinion on Reeve's plans for chocobo conservation?"

That earned a small smile and an expected answer. "I've nothing against it."

Their food arrived, its presentation elegant.

Tseng brought up another rumor. "They say the egg atop Fort Condor will hatch soon."

Whoever 'they' were, they'd been saying that for years. Sephiroth rolled his eyes.

"Ha. Indeed. But there seems to be more to it this time. They're billing it as the birding event of the century."

He couldn't allow himself optimism, not yet, not in the face of Tseng's terrible puns (okay fine, the puns were probably his own bad influence, but it was Zack's fault first). "This century? Then, perhaps a lengthy, wasteful campaign to gain access to the reactor won't be necessary." Yes, that would be a relief. Did Tseng feel the same? He watched closely for a sign.

There it was. The slight lowering of Tseng's guard. The reason for this meeting would be revealed...

Oh. Sephiroth's curiosity turned to pity, which he tried not to show. Love made fools of them all. He predicted Tseng's next question and preempted it.

"She and Zack continue to be insufferable lovebirds."

He'd find Tseng's downcast expression amusing if they weren't friends.

Consolation couldn't hurt. "What about Elena? She's obviously interested."

"She's... cute, in an adorable way. But we're coworkers and she's still new at her job."

"That's very honorable of you."

"I feel sorry for her, though. But this is best for now..."

"Maybe."

"You don't agree?" Tseng's honest surprise was a rarity.

"You're both Turks; you can keep secrets if you want to. Ask her to dinner when you're off duty, in case the chance never comes again."

"Heh. Morbidly romantic. It suits you."

"Zack says she likes steak."

"...thanks."

Every detail in the subsequent professional discussion of helicopter armaments was entirely fabricated.

The waiter refilled their glasses. They split the check.


Discreetly sucking a peppermint, Sephiroth stepped out of the restaurant...

...straight into the entrapping flash of cameras, because the idiot public forgot he was a war hero and not some other kind of celebrity. How secure the paparazzi must be in their ignorance, not realizing how tempted he was to correct them! How generous he was! Less than two years ago, they'd hailed him savior and given him their fear and followed him for it. He remembered, fondly, what they did not.


Masamune may have had a sheathe once. If so, he'd left it behind when he went to Wutai.

He'd taught the enemy to damn his name, carved a place for himself in their mythology. To them he was a demon with a cursed sword.

Angel. Blessed. Mother reminded him.

Rumors flew faster than carrion birds. Sephiroth loved the soldiers' stories. The way they spoke of him became his reason for fighting. Why not? It was better than any of Shinra's.


Sure, they could have one of him smiling.


The Seconds said that the only reason they were there at all was because he couldn't be everywhere at once.

"For it had to have been over in just a moment, right? Blink and you'd miss it. You watched, saw the General's inevitable victory in slow motion because it was so fast. You had no true sense of time. Had you really been there on the battlefield? Did you even exist at all?

And then you were so grateful to be alive. That you were not His sacrifice.

You'd go back to carrying equipment and munitions across the Hades-forsaken continent like the good little trooper you were, the lifeblood of the army flowing along the supply lines as it should, not spilt today."


Sephiroth kept walking, the memories punctuated by insolent snapshots instead of gunfire, less damaging but unfortunately unanswerable.


"So... make First Class and then you won't die just for talking to General Sephiroth."

"It can't be that bad or he'd never be able to do his job."

"Good point."


The press followed him all the way to the front doors of Shinra HQ, where the guards on duty (the guards! Ha!) finally provided incentive enough for them to get lost.


"The General works really hard you know."

"He's the reason there aren't behemoths under Midgar."

"Uh... actually..."

"Then he's the reason they don't come up here."


Train of thought unchanged, Sephiroth reached the cool, dark, welcoming privacy of his apartment. He collected rumors about it, too, being long immune to imaginary accusations of vanity. In his presence the mundane became mysterious. Let them talk! He'd laugh.

They said his room was...

...It was a fiery hell with a Mako swimming pool and an altar to catch the blood of his victims.

...It was an eyesore of a bachelor pad to put even Corneo's to shame, complete with a neon stripper pole and a heart-shaped bed, the sheets hot pink with psychedelic flowers.

...It was all done up in silver and black like everything else.
(He could see how they might think so.)

...It was a personal torture chamber.
(Why would he need that when the labs were right there?)

...It was a concrete cell.
(It wasn't. There was carpet.)

They said that...

...He never slept. Or that he was rugged and slept on the cold hard floor even during peacetime.
(No, he most certainly did not! He'd learned to take what luxuries he could when he could.)

...Rufus was his lover.
(No. He couldn't come up with a way that could benefit him.)

...He had a top secret admirer with spiky yellow hair.
(Nope. No one said that. Which seemed weird, somehow.)

...The bed was soft and heavenly! The sheets were silk. There were fifty thousand pillows!
(Not that many.)

They'd probably be disappointed. It was a bedroom. He kept it neat. There were books.

It was a normal bed, king size so he could stretch out on it. They would not be disappointed to learn that, so he made sure they did not find out.

...with a normal sword rack above it. And a normal bedside table, with a normal vase of fake geraniums that always tried to get dusty (but they never won, oh no) next to the lamp with the burnt out bulb he hadn't bothered to change and the globe that he got from that nice blond woman in Nibelheim. As with many small and decorative objects, now that it had found its way to him, it was like he'd always been meant to have it.

Everything as it should be, he fell asleep.


He awoke suddenly, in early morning quiet, alert. Something was wrong.

There was someone in the hallway outside his apartment. Waiting. Shuffling. Nervous, excited. Trying to be stealthy in shoes they weren't used to wearing. Completely out of their mind.

Thanks to the Turks, it'd been a while since any of his fans made it this far.

Sephiroth took the replica of Masamune and went to answer the door.

She was tall, with long black hair. Not nervous enough. Her neck structure was more masculine than most. She wore expensive cologne but it didn't match her natural scent as well as it ought for the price.

"I had to hurry to get here first!"

A deep voice, not unattractive...

A familiar smile...

"Zack? Why are you dressed like that?"

"The ad said 'bride' and I thought I'd try my luck."

"What are you talking about?"

"Aww, am I in a void-where-prohibited group?"

Sephiroth blinked. He was too tired for this. "I wish you well in your endeavor, whatever it is. Tell me the story later. Now go away."

"You mean... it isn't true?" Cute and pleading eyes. Seriously?

"...?"

"The rumor that you're looking for a bride."

"WHAT?"

Zack held up today's edition of the Shinra Times, hot off the press, as proof. On the front page was...

"You hadn't heard it? Oh, Seph, I'm so sorry." He clearly wasn't. No one could laugh like that and be sorry.

"Why are you sorry? Did you start it?"

Zack regained his composure remarkably fast. "No sir."

It was a good costume. Bonus points if Zack had intended it as a rescue. His friend was just full of surprises. "You know, straightened, your hair is quite long."

"Yeah, Tseng helped me out."

"He was part of this, too?"

"Yep."

"He started it, didn't he."

"Yep." A quick admission...

Sephiroth sighed. "Help me think of my revenge."