Vincent's mind drifted and he let it, his thoughts wandering wherever they pleased, nothing to restrain them. He had no reason to control them, no purpose for thinking about anything in specific. And yet, in the years that he had lain in his coffin, awake, his thoughts had always traveled back to the same person: Lucrecia. Even in his nightmares, he always thought of Lucrecia. It seemed that there was nothing he could do to stop that train of thought, and so he had ceased trying to.
She had told him that none of this was his fault, but if it wasn't, then who was there to blame? He certainly could not blame Lucrecia. She had only done what she had thought was right. But he had known it was wrong and he had done nothing. He had thought that if she was happy with Hojo and the Jenova Project, then he would let her continue with it. But he had known that it was wrong, known that something horrible would come of it. He had done nothing to try to save her, had only argued once on the matter. He should have protected her.
I let the one I loved, the one I respected most, face the worst. And it was true. It was true a thousand times over. Her suffering because of the Jenova Project, both before and after the birth of her son, was entirely his fault because he had not protected her from it. He had let her go through with it, regardless of the danger, merely because she would be happy for a short while. But Hojo had not cared about her at all. Once her usefulness had worn out, he had left her to die. And yet again, Vincent had known what a horrible person Hojo had been. Yet Lucrecia had loved him, or at least, she seemed to, and he had let the matter lie simply because for a short while, she would be happy.
Only for a short while. He cursed himself for the thousandth time. How could he have let her do that to herself? How could he have let Hojo and Professor Gast inject the Jenova cells into her body, when he knew what the consequences would be!? And Hojo had killed her, merely because she was a waste of his time, and because he no longer needed her. He had poisoned her. The Jenova cells had brought her back, but her mind had been ruined. It was only at the very end when Lucrecia regained her sanity enough to recognize him. And she had told him that it was not his fault.
She couldn't truly mean that, could she? It was not possible. He had abandoned her, left her to the ravages of the Jenova Project. And because of him, she had lost all possible chance of being happy, of living her own life, even. She never even got to hold her son, and barely even saw him. She was the only person who ever cared for Sephiroth, and she saw him but twice, at the most. How could Vincent even claim to love her, when he abandoned her so?
He was truly a monster. It was not simply the physical aspect, for certainly he could transform into different monsters when the time called for them. And certainly then his mind was altered to the bloodthirsty thoughts of such monsters. But he himself was a thousand times worse. He had claimed to love Lucrecia, but how could he when he had abandoned her? His heart must have been so cold that when he felt even the slightest bit of emotion, he immediately called it love.
But there it was, so strong, even after her death. Vincent knew that it was love, that it was not something else, but he could not explain why he had not protected her from the Jenova Project. It simply made no sense. The only plausible answer was that he was enough of a monster that even when he loved her, he still abandoned her. Vincent sighed, wishing that the thoughts of Lucrecia would cease to plague his mind. But he knew that they never would. He loved her too strongly for her to fade from his mind, and he had failed her too miserably for him to cease berating himself about it. He sighed once more and closed his eyes, sinking back into nightmares.
Vincent awakened, but dared not move. His whole body was in pain. He felt as though he was unable to move. What had happened? Hojo had shot him... shot him... but he was still alive. The wound must not have been fatal. But it hurt so much... He opened his eyes, found himself staring up at a stone ceiling. He blinked a few times, turned his head to his right, slowly, painfully. Everything hurt. Where was he?
He was lying on Hojo's operating table in the basement... He was gripped with a sudden fear. What had the scientist done to him? Vincent sat up quickly, wincing as he did so. He swung his legs over the side of the table, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. His left shoulder hurt, but the arm itself felt numb. He opened his eyes, holding the hand in front of him. He sat, frozen, looking at it in horror. Metal. His arm was metal, wickedly sharp fingers of metal, the shining joints going up to join his flesh at his shoulder. Vincent lifted his right hand, quivering, to touch the cold metal, half-hoping that it was not real, that this was a dream. But it wasn't. He felt the sharp reality of it.
And it was then that he felt something stir inside of him, some other presence that he had never felt before. It felt... almost evil. What had Hojo done to him!? He felt his cells shift, his entire body changing, accompanied by an unbearable pain. He lifted his twisted head and let out a howl of pain, in a voice that was not his own, but a deep, animal growl...
The creature that had once been Vincent jumped off of the table, crouching low, head swiveling about, long serpentine tail slashing the air, fangs gleaming in the dim lamplight, fierce eyes shining with bloodlust. The vision of this monster was in tones of red and black. It turned its eyes upon a figure entering the basement, there was the sound of several loud gunshots, and everything went black...
When Vincent awoke again, he found that he could not see. He blinked several times, but still saw nothing but black. He lifted his right hand upwards and found himself touching a wooden ceiling... No, not a ceiling. He felt around him some more, felt the velvet lining. A coffin. He was in a coffin. And... he couldn't breath. His eyes widened in fear and he tried to push the lid off, but it was too heavy... or Hojo had sealed it on tight. Or... had they buried him alive? No... There was a room outside the coffin, he could tell that much. And it was then that he realized that he had stopped breathing already. If he had had a heartbeat, it would have skipped a beat, but he felt at his neck, found no pulse. Was he dead? No, he couldn't be dead.
He yelled for help until his voice was hoarse, but no one heard him. When his voice gave out, he banged against the lid of the coffin with his metal claw, only stopping when he realized that no one would ever hear him. His efforts were futile. Hojo had hidden him well. Damn that Hojo... Vincent thought of Lucrecia, prayed that she hadn't died-or worse, been given the same treatment as he. He was alone... so alone. It was dark in the coffin, he could see nothing. Involuntarily, he touched the metal claw, shuddering at how cold it felt. How could this be happening to him? What other horrors would Hojo commit? Lucrecia, I have failed you... Then a wave of sleep overtook him and he sank into nightmares...
Vincent opened his eyes, staring up at nothingness for a moment. How many times had he relived that nightmare? He didn't know... It didn't matter. He listened for a moment, hearing voices. There were strangers in the mansion, in the basement... He heard the heavy door creak open.
"Woah..." The voice was that of a teenage boy, one who had probably come with his friends to explore the old Shinra mansion. There had always been rumors of the place being haunted and Vincent knew that the rumors stemmed from his existence here.
"What is it, Mark?" a girl's voice asked.
"There's like a coffin in here," 'Mark' replied. Vincent heard footsteps as the teens walked over to his coffin. There were three of them-he could tell by the sound of their feet, but the third had not spoken. He decided that he had waited long enough. Five years had past and it was time. He lifted his arms, started to push the lid off to the side. "Woah! Watch out, Meg!" the boy exclaimed. "It's moving!" Vincent pushed the lid of the coffin aside and sat up, looking about. He identified Mark at once-the boy was standing at the end of the coffin, staring at him with wide eyes. Two girls stood farther back, staring at him, looking frightened.
Vincent pushed the hair back from his face and brushed some dust off of his crimson cloak. There was light coming from somewhere. Someone had brought a lantern and placed it on the floor. He glanced at it, then skimmed his eyes over the three before him. They cringed from his gaze. People always found red eyes disconcerting... Vincent stood and leapt nimbly out of the coffin, landing first on the lid, then jumping to the floor. The three looked startled as he turned to them. "What are you doing down here?" Vincent asked in his low, soft voice. His tone was as emotionless as it always was, as was his expression.
One of the girls took a hesitant step forward. "We, um, we were just exploring, sir," she explained. "We thought..."
"You thought that it would be fun?" Vincent said calmly. "This mansion is dangerous. You will find only nightmares here."
The girl nodded dumbly and there was a silence as his blood-red gaze bore into her being. She gulped and looked down, mumbling, "Sorry..."
The other girl stepped in front of her, looking angry. "But just what do you think you're doing here, anyway? And in a coffin, too. What are you, a vampire or something!?" Vincent shook his head minutely. "And what was the big deal about scaring all of us?"
"I did not mean to startle you," he said softly, "but you would have opened the coffin anyway." Vincent shifted the cloak on his shoulders and he saw the girl's eyes travel to his metal claw.
"Just what are you, anyway?" she inquired, looking a bit nervous now. Vincent stared at her with his crimson gaze for a moment, then turned to leave.
The boy stepped in front of him. "Hey, where do you think you're going? You should at least give us an explanation." Vincent shook his head and started to walk around him, but his path was blocked again. "Come on, vampire-boy."
Vincent lifted his eyes to Mark's face. "I have some business to attend to. It would be easier if you just stayed out of my way."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat?"
"No," Vincent said curtly.
The braver girl walked over to them. "You haven't even told us who you are."
"Neither have you," Vincent stated calmly.
"Fair enough," she said. "I'm Kelly." She pointed over to the other girl. "That's Meg, and this is Mark." Vincent nodded, but made no move as though to speak. "Now, who are you?"
He remained silent for a moment, then replied, "My name is Vincent Valentine."
"Valentine?" Mark said, incredulous. "What kind of name is that?"
"It is my name, and I see nothing funny about the matter."
"Weren't you with that guy, um, Cloud Strife?" Kelly ventured. Vincent nodded. "Then what are you doing down here?"
Vincent sighed. Too many questions. "You are wasting my time." He pushed Mark out of his way with his metal arm and walked out of the room, turning down the hallway. A faint noise from the ceiling caught his attention and he quickly whipped out his Death Penalty, shooting the creature before it even had a chance to attack. The vampire bat fell limply to the ground. Vincent walked on, lowering his gun. The stairs weren't in any worse condition, which was good. No loose boards to worry about. Five years was a much shorter period of time than before. Perhaps fewer things will have changed, he thought. Then again, so much had changed within the short period of time that I was awake before...
"Hey, Vincent," Kelly called after him. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" He continued walking, oblivious to the three. He heard her run up to him, saw her walking along by his side out of the corner of his eye. "Well?"
"I have no reason to tell you," Vincent said.
"Aw, come on!" Kelly persisted. "I bet wherever you're going there's gonna be a lot of adventure, right?"
Vincent did not even glance at her. "I know not what to expect, but danger surrounds me. You three should go back to your homes."
"But I've heard stories about you guys. You were, like, invincible!" she exclaimed.
Vincent shook his head. "I do not mean danger for myself. I mean danger for anyone else." Finally the girl seemed at a loss for words and he continued up the stairway, leaving her behind. He exited the mansion, squinting as the afternoon sunlight shone in his eyes. The dirty windows of the mansion filtered out most of the light, but his eyes soon adjusted. He glanced around, seeing a few villagers standing in the streets, staring at him, looking fearful. Vincent merely turned to look northward. Would Sephiroth appear there? Near Northern Crater? The quickest way to get there would be to fly... He did not wish to involve anyone else in this, especially not Cid. The man would not understand. Vincent would use his own methods of getting to Sephiroth...
The snow was swirling around him, too thick for him to see anything. He took a step forward, the wind pushing against him, icy air defying his every move. But he made his way through it anyway, the snowflakes stinging his face, silver hair tangled with tiny crystals, slapping at his face... He hefted the long sword at his side, held up a black-gloved hand to wipe the hair and snow from his face. Through a lull in the storm, he thought he saw a town... but the moment passed and the wind picked up once more, screaming in his ears, thickening the air with white.
He made his way towards the village, trying to keep a straight course, fighting against the wind. After what seemed like an eternity, the wind died down, the snow fell lightly, and the town came into sight again, a little to his right. He turned that way, looking down to make sure that the sword was still clasped in his numb hand. It was still there and he nodded to himself. It was perhaps the only link he had to his past now... There was a feeling that he got from the blade, as if it were alive, but that was impossible.
He entered the town, walking past two children in thick jackets who had paused from their play to gawk at the swordsman. He stopped momentarily, blinked at them curiously. They turned and ran back into a nearby house, dropping their snowballs, slamming the door shut tight behind them. The man frowned slightly and continued down the path, stopping in front of a large building with a sign reading 'Inn.' He opened the door, walking inside, tracking snow onto the wooden floor. The innkeeper turned to him, about to say something, but just stood there, mouth agape, eyes staring.
The black-cloaked man frowned in confusion. "Is there something wrong?"
"A-are you..." The innkeeper gulped, took a breath. "S-Sephiroth...?"
The black-cloaked man shook his head minutely. "Who is Sephiroth?" The shorter man's eyes slid to his sword, then looked back up at his face. He quickly looked away from the green-blue gaze and stared at the floorboards instead. "Who is Sephiroth?" the swordsman insisted.
The innkeeper did not look up. "He... he looked just like you..."
The black-cloaked man frowned, shook his head. "That explains nothing. Why are you so afraid of me?" The innkeeper gestured towards the long sword at his side. The swordsman looked at it, hefted it. "This? Did... did this 'Sephiroth' kill people?"
"Yes-but... only Sephiroth could wield that sword... the Masamune," the frightened man told him.
The black-cloaked man stroked the handle of the blade with his thumb. Masamune. He looked back at the shorter man. "What happened to Sephiroth?"
"He..." The innkeeper gulped, eyes wandering to the sword once more. "He supposedly died. Five years ago. But..."
The taller man nodded. "But now I am here... You think I am this 'Sephiroth'? How could he come back from the dead?"
The frightened man wrung his hands nervously and shook his head. "I-I don't know. But... but he did it before."
The swordsman frowned, brushed a silver strand of hair from his face. "......I was going to ask if you could give me a room-to rest."
The innkeeper shook his head. "I don't want you scaring away my customers."
The black-cloaked man sighed, nodded, and turned back towards the door. The innkeeper hopped back as the long blade of the Masamune swung around behind him. The swordsman opened the door, flinching slightly as he was greeted once more with the icy air and a small flurry of snow. He walked back out into the cold, looking over at another pair of children sledding down a nearby hill, apparently oblivious to him as yet. How carefree they looked... He shook his head, walking up the hill, seeing the two children run out of the corner of his eye, the sled falling to lie, forgotten, at the bottom of the hill. He paused, then continued over the hill, down a little dip, and past several more houses.
He left the town, heading in a direction which he thought to be south. He could see mountains to his left and up ahead of him and turned to follow a more southwesterly path. The snow in the air thinned, then stopped altogether and he felt even more alone in the huge field of snow, the town now out of sight, the mountains the only landmark in the miles of white. He concentrated on the snow beneath his feet, trying not to pay attention to the isolation of the place. He grasped the Masamune tighter, trying to glean some sort of comfort from the weapon. It did little good.
He came to a patch of glittering snow, sparkling in a ray of sunshine. The swordsman looked up at the sky, not stopping, seeing a patch of blue showing through a gap in the white clouds. He looked back down at the snow beneath his feet, watched as the fluffy white was kicked up by black boots. The sunlit patches became more and more frequent until there were no clouds in the sky. And still the mountains inched slowly closer. After a while, he noticed some tracks in the snow-chocobo tracks. He looked around, didn't see any of the birds, and continued onwards.
The sun was setting behind the mountains to his left, and still he walked, the monotonous movement of his numbed feet kicking the snow. He could tell now that he was almost past the range. He turned to the southeast, looking back down at his feet. The snow was getting thinner and thinner. Soon, he could see the tips of grass blades sticking up from the white. Still, the swordsman walked on. It was growing warmer now, more of the grass becoming visible above the snow. He lifted his head, saw the thinning edge of the snow, the grass, slightly browned, showing through holes in the snow, then dominating the landscape. As he continued southeast, the grass regained its color, turning to a rich green.
It was then that he caught sight of the ocean, a glimmer of deep blue on the horizon. He walked towards the beach, something inside him wondering why he was not being attacked. And something answering each time, They are afraid. He reached the beach where the grass was choked by the sand, walked along side of it, facing eastward, towards the darkened sky, watching as his shadow in front of him faded into the rest of the darkness, watching as night claimed the land. And still he kept on watching, looking now at the moon in the sky, seeing each individual star appear in the vast expanse of black. He knew that there was a wide plain ahead of him, that he was only halfway to wherever he was going. There was a town there. He knew that much. But who lived there, what they did, what the town was called-all of that was lost to him. His memory failed him. What memory? All he knew from before was cold and darkness...
Katrina ran up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her and quickly locking it. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes, the tears streaming down her face. She hated her parents! She hated them! How could they even think of sending her to live with her grandfather!? She hated him even more! He was weird, not to mention the fact that he never cared a whit about her. But her parents had made up their minds, whatever the reason. She supposed that they wanted her to get a job in Junon. She was the right age for that sort of thing, but...
She could hear her mother on the other side of the door, trying to console her, but Katrina wasn't paying any attention to the words. She was busy figuring out how to sneak away... She would leave that night, sometime after midnight, after her parents had gone to bed. But where would she go? The only other village on the Northern Continent was Snow Village, unless she managed to get transportation to some other place. Other place... like what? Maybe she could go to Cosmo Canyon... but she would head to Snow Village first, since she was incapable of getting to the other continents...
Katrina packed a few of her possessions. She didn't really have much of importance, so she just packed a change of clothes and some food she happened to have in her room. She waited in her room until the sky outside was dark. She put her ear up against the door, listening, but she could here nothing. She slowly turned the knob, pushing the door open, then closing it behind her, making sure to lock it again. She slipped down the hallway, grabbing her coat and hurrying out the door.
Luckily, there were no excavators out that night. They didn't get as many visitors as they once had, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. The town had grown a bit and a few houses had been added, including the one that her family lived in. They had moved in from Midgar after Meteor had destroyed their home there.
She hurried out of the town and set off westward, towards Snow Village, her coat draped over one arm, her bag slung over the other shoulder. She looked up at the sky. A full moon hung in the black air, stars dotting the sky. It was beautiful, and she was glad to be walking under such a sky. She smiled a little and wondered if anyone else was looking up at that same sky. She continued walking, staring up at the sky, her feet falling into the monotonous pattern of walking.
After she had walked for a few hours, a sound to her right caught her attention and she looked in that direction, a slight twinge of fear running through her. A pair of gleaming yellow eyes shone in the darkness and the creature stepped forwards. It was wolf-like, and its grey fur shone dully in the moonlight. Katrina took a step backwards, cursing herself for not bringing any weapons. Behind the creature, she could see several more pairs of eyes. The thing suddenly ran forward to pounce on her and she turned away, shutting her eyes tightly. She heard a faint rush of air, but nothing happened.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and turned to look. The wolf creature lay on the ground a few feet away from her, neatly cut through the middle. She swallowed a little and looked around, not seeing any of the other creatures, nor anyone else. A figure that she had not noticed before straightened from his position crouched on the ground near the still form of one of the wolves. She could not see very well in the dark, but she could see his glowing blue-green eyes, the silver hair, and the long, shining blade of his sword. He started walking towards her.
Katrina gasped and took a step backwards. "S... Sephiroth...!?" she exclaimed. Everyone knew what he looked like... but how could he be alive? Hadn't that Cloud person killed him five years ago?
He stopped, looked at her, looking somewhat confused. "You think I am Sephiroth, too?" he asked. She nodded dumbly, her eyes flickering to the sword. He shook his head. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just saved your life, do you think I would contradict myself?"
Katrina relaxed a bit. "I... I guess not. But... you're not... Sephiroth?"
The swordsman shook his head. "I don't know who I am."
"Oh. Well that's good... I think..."
He tilted his head. "Why is that a good thing?"
She blinked. "Well, you see, if you were Sephiroth, you'd probably just kill me right now..." She eyed the Masamune again. "But you saved me instead... Umm... thank you."
The man before her seemed unsure how to react to this. "You're the first person not to be afraid of me," he said, sighing a little.
"Well, I am... sorta..." Katrina admitted.
"What were you doing out here? It's dangerous for someone like you."
She looked down at the ground. "I... was... um, running away from home..."
The swordsman nodded. "Where did you plan on going?"
Katrina was mildly surprised that he didn't think what she was doing was wrong, but realized that if he didn't know who he was, then there were probably some other things that he didn't know. It was just as well. "I want to go to Cosmo Canyon, but since I can't get there, I was gonna go up to Snow Village..."
"I just came from there..." he stated.
"What's your point?"
He shook his head minutely. "I can't just let you travel alone. You're vulnerable."
The girl in front of him nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "I guess you're right."
He studied her for a moment. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a soft grey sweater that was a little large on her. A long green coat was draped over her one arm and she had a bag slung over her other shoulder. She had short brown hair, curving inwards just under her chin, neatly framing her face. Her eyes were of the same color as her sweater. He supposed that anyone else might call her 'pretty,' but he didn't really know what to think. "Well, no use standing here doing nothing. Let's go." The swordsman turned and began walking back the way he had come.
The girl trotted after him. "Yeah, um, I'm Katrina," she told him. "I guess I can't ask your name, huh?" The swordsman glanced at her, then shook his head. "It must be frustrating, not knowing who you are...... Especially when you look like Sephiroth."
He nodded minutely, keeping his gaze straight ahead, watching the horizon. "I remember nothing. There are people who tell me that I am Sephiroth, and they are frightened of me, but I don't even know who he is." He shook his head. "But... what if I truly am Sephiroth? Does that even change anything?" He fell silent and continued walking westwards. Katrina said nothing, but he could feel her eyes on him, studying him intently, as though looking for something.
After several hours of walking together in silence, they came upon a small clump of trees, and the girl stopped. "Umm, hey, can we stop for a while? I'm kinda tired..." The swordsman nodded silently and watched her as she lay down on the ground near a tree, using her pack as a pillow, and closed her eyes. He himself merely leaned against a tree and looked up at the sky, striving to remember anything, anything at all. But what he recalled he could make no sense of. A flash of red wings, a pair of bright green eyes, the silhouette of someone with a sword.
He shook his head and cleared his mind of thought, watching as the black sky slowly lightened, keeping on a grey color. In the east, a golden light began to creep through the sleepy sky, setting it afire with the beautiful colors of sunrise. Blue stretched out across the heavens as the sun rose, a glory of yellow light, quickly becoming too bright to behold as it climbed the sky.
The black-cloaked man looked down at the sleeping girl, wondered when she would wake up. Well after sunrise, Katrina stirred, and opened her grey eyes. For a moment, she seemed confused, but then her gaze focused on him and she gave a little start, jumping to her feet as she grabbed her bag. She blinked at him a few times, then grinned sheepishly, relaxing. "Sorry... I forgot that you weren't... er... nevermind." The swordsman shrugged. It made little difference to him.
In fact, nothing seemed to matter to him. He was outcast of everyone and everywhere, and only this one girl seemed to accept him for who he was, not who he used to be. He sighed and motioned for her to come along before he began walking again. His life now consisted merely of travelling it seemed. The days spent wandering through the snowy wasteland, and now his time with Katrina. Perhaps that was all he was good for. But something told him that there was much he would have to do yet.