Author's Notes: Given the circumstances of this chapter, I wouldn't be surprised if people complained about it... but it's totally random... and I wanted to write in it.

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He was immensely pleased that Cloud was finally more relaxed around him. Sephiroth couldn't have been more excited if he was sure Hikaru was finally gotten rid of.

The corridor echoed with his footsteps as he moved carefully among the statues, toward the window. Outside it was raining heavily, curtains of rain washing back and forth across the street below like liquid phantoms. The spattering of water from the eaves was dulled by the windowpanes and the thick, ancient walls.

Mr. Rin was waiting for him just inside the parlor room where the window shades were open, trying to let in as much light as the storm could allow. Sephiroth found him seated in a luxurious chair, wrapped in an immense blue blanket, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly messed up. His skin looked like yellow powder... Sephiroth paused at the edge of the chairs gathered around a formidable fire in the hearth. The parlor room was immense, with a rising ceiling with rafters and a single chandelier hanging above their heads, reflecting the orange light in its thousands of precious gems. An oriental carpet was on the floor, many dragons guarding the hem and a single star in the middle.

He touched the back of a chair, looking at Mr. Rin.

"You aren't well," Sephiroth murmured quietly. He hardly spoke to his benefactor at all these days - Cloud told him he hadn't been feeling well of late. "Haven't you seen a white magic user?"

"There are none to be found," Mr. Rin wheezed. He shuddered violently as he restrained his coughing to inside his blanket. When he was finished he was that much more flushed, but not in a healthy way. "I wanted to speak with you, and I keep you in confidence on this matter, Sephiroth."

Immediately, the silver-haired man straightened. His eyes sharpened and he nodded stiffly, uncomfortable in the presence of illness.

Mr. Rin said, "Cloud has told you of my sickness. But he hasn't told you that there is no cure for what ails me, boy. It has taken me awhile to understand, but... as I see it, I am very much dying. There is no way to understand the reason for it."

"Mr. Rin--" Sephiroth began, his eyes sparkling with worry.

"Don't worry too much about it. You will take over my business."

"What?! But I am nowhere near qualified to handle such a large business. I don't know the first thing about it. I know you think I may be the perfect candidate, but I'm sorry. I don't think I can do it."

"You're the only candidate." Mr. Rin's gaze hardened slightly. "Cloud could manage it on his own for awhile, but he wouldn't last long without you. As soon as I'm going, I know that you might leave and never come back. You wander far, don't you? To different places..." The man once again broke down into a fitful bout of coughing before he sunk back into his chair and stared hollowly at the ceiling for a few minutes. Finally he reached over to motion toward the end table closest to Sephiroth.

"That is for you and Mr. Strife." Sephiroth took it. "In three days, I want you to open it. Don't open it before, or after that time. Three days, to the hour." Mr. Rin smiled grimly before calmly telling him he could go about his business.

Sephiroth left the room with his numb fingers holding the envelope. It was a plain, yellow envelope sealed with Mr. Rin's business insignia with hot wax to secure it. He wanted to talk to Cloud now... or Ansem. Dearest Light, Ansem wouldn't come now anyway... he was probably too busy preparing for whatever miracle he had in mind to work.

If Mr. Rin was dying and wanted to leave his business to himself and Cloud, it meant that he was to stay here no matter what else happened. It didn't leave much room to deny it. He owed Mr. Rin much, as well, and he would honor his wishes to the best of his ability. But it was so troubling! How long had the manager of the most successful business in the world been sick? Why didn't he tell him how serious it was sooner? Perhaps he didn't know he was dying until recently.

He brushed his hair out of his face as he stepped up to Cloud's bedroom door. He knocked as he slipped the envelope into his deep coat pockets. He waited.

Cloud opened the door. He was wearing a loose-fitting robe, secured with a broad band of the same material, tied in front of him. An ordinary pair of socks covered his feet. His room was slightly messy, Sephiroth noted as he stole a glance around... clothes on the floor, a few books scattered around on the dresser and the nightstand had a few papers on it. Only one corner of the room was clean, and it was dedicated for his working objects, such as his weapon and his outdoor clothes.

Sephiroth looked at Cloud again. Without speaking Cloud reached over to pull him into his room by the arm, nudging the door shut with his foot.

"He told you?" Cloud whispered. His voice reminded him of a dying breeze in autumn. Melancholy. Sephiroth was a little agitated that Cloud was told first, but quickly pushed that foolishness aside.

Sephiroth nodded, reaching to take Cloud's arm whose hand was still holding onto his arm. The blonde's eyes were red and tired, and he had a scent like salt-water from his tears. Sephiroth rubbed his arm for awhile before Cloud pulled it free and cleared his throat with a decidedly bright red blush.

"He was like a father to me," he blurted suddenly. "I've lived here for almost ten years and now... now he's... dying on me already!"

The silver-haired man nudged him over to the bed and sat down next to him, hugging him close. Cloud was now sobbing again with earnest, just as he probably had done for awhile. He'd never known a man to cry so much... except Cloud, a history ago when he was a young SOLDIER candidate. He brushed his fingers through his soft blonde hair, knowing somehow that it ought to comfort him more than anything else. His shirt was slightly damp from where Cloud's breath had puffed against him.

After awhile Cloud became quiet. "Did he say anything?"

"Yes...we're to open this letter in almost exactly three days," Sephiroth replied.

"Can't read it now, obviously," the other answered as his friend presented the packet of paper. Cloud then placed the letter next to the bedstand on top of a pile of booklets. He sighed, cleaning his eyes out with his sleeves. Finally he looked up and smiled nervously at the man. "You going to stick around all night?"

Sephiroth allowed himself to crack one of his infamous, impeccable smirks. He pulled his foot up and slipped off his boot, and followed up with the other..dropping them near the foot of the bed. "Hey, that's not a bad idea."

Cloud smiled back a little, brushing a hand over his blonde hair, tousling it back into what he thought was some semblance of neatness. His contentment was distinct in the slight rise of his eyebrows, the smoothing of the lines that was caused by his emotional troubles. He helped him slip his coat off and hung it on the corner edge of the bed.

Sephiroth slid his body over the blankets, tucking himself comfortable against some of the soft plush pillows, and almost immediately realized how good it felt to lay down and look at Cloud, with honest, understanding eyes. His mind was focused on the letter, but was easily distracted when Cloud made himself comfortable against his side with an arm around his neck. His face was nestled in his shoulder, his eyes closed and his delicate lashes twitching occasionally against his skin.

He knew there was no way he could truly take the pain of Mr. Rin's death away. Cloud would be scarred from it for a long time...just another scar to his collection of emotional trauma. Sephiroth gritted his teeth and stroked the man's back lovingly, and promised to do his best to fill that space in his life that had been so empty for too long, like a drying lake where there had once been innocence and life once upon a time.

Before he knew it, lulling himself with silent reiterations of his oath, he had fallen asleep to the sound of the rain - and Cloud's soft, sweet breath and the thudding of his beautiful heart.