Disclaimer: You wouldn't believe how hard I cried when I found out Square owned FFVII. And here, all this time, I thought I had. *sob*
A/N: I apologize for the long-ass wait. First it was finals, then some family stuff, and then my computer decided to get invaded by a cute little virus and temporarily cease its important functions, so…
Oh, to (hopefully) answer Chocobo Goddess' question: As I've got it planned now, this fic will be ending before the story of the game starts.
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(Cross slash…cross slash…lunge…forward strike…back strike…overhead…)
(…Boring…boring…boring.)
Stopping short of the seventh kata, Sephiroth slowly brought the Masamune level with his face, placidly gazing at the emerald reflection of his Mako-bright eyes on the narrow flat of the katana. A short moment passed, and a barely noticeable scowl quirked his lips.
(Even with this perfect sword…these kata are still so redundant!)
He abruptly swung around, bringing the blade in a level arc as he spun…and cut the movement short in less than a heartbeat, the cold tip of the katana a hairsbreadth short of severing an understandably startled officer's jugular.
The officer -- a major by the looks of it -- gave a thin chuckle and glanced down at the blade that had nearly claimed his life. "Glad someone's in control of that monster," he said, his voice somewhere on the edge between rattled and amused.
"You should be more careful walking up behind someone like that, Sir," Sephiroth warned. "I could have killed you." He lowered the Masamune, marveling a bit when he noticed a thin red score where he'd stopped the blade.
The red-haired officer chuckled again as the teenager removed the sword from its precarious position. "I see that. And here I thought six feet was a safe distance." He folded his arms across his broad chest, his azure eyes matching the verdant ones for intensity. "I am Major David Blacke," he said. "And you are Sephiroth…the young man that got Sergeant Bailey suspended."
Sephiroth said nothing, but the flash in his Mako eyes was more than enough to indicate his feelings about that situation.
"…Not that I say I can care," Blacke added. "You were acting in self-defense, so…technically, he suspended himself. Which is fine with me. I couldn't stand him myself. The man had way too much of a temper to be a good SOLDIER officer. Or a good SOLDIER, period. I still don't know how he got through…" He trailed off for a brief moment, seeing that the teenager was now clearly losing interest in what he was saying. "And now that I told you you're not in trouble for what happened to Bailey, I should get the hell out of here, right?" he smirked.
(You could have stayed the hell out to begin with and saved us both the time.) "I can't say as it really worried me about getting in trouble, Sir. Even if it had been my fault, the punishment the military would have given me would have been…(nothing compared to what my own father put me through)…negligible." Recalling the countless hours of hell Hojo had subjected him to, he wisely chose not to divulge the true reason for his nonchalance.
"Fair enough, I suppose." Blacke nodded and looked up at the wall clock, noting the odd hour. "Now, may I ask why you are training in the armory at four o'clock in the morning? Unless you had a night guard shift and got relieved of it early, you're not even supposed to be in here. The day guards don't have to start reporting in for another two hours, either."
"I couldn't sleep, Sir, so I thought I would do something constructive."
"Sleep isn't constructive?"
Sephiroth had a difficult time restraining himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation. This officer wasn't as obstinate and foul-mouthed as Bailey, that much was certain, but his dry attempts at humor were no less annoying.
"Not much for kidding around, are you, son?" The smirk had never left his face.
"Kidding around with a superior officer is a bit odd, Sir. And no, I'm not."
"Suit yourself," Blacke replied, shrugging. "I know a lot of officers don't appreciate humor from or with the enlisted, but I think it does a lot for morale, so long as it doesn't get out of line. Then it pisses me off, just like the rest." He strode past Sephiroth and retrieved one of the standard swords that was propped against the wall behind him. "Now, since you're clearly wide awake, and I have to be up anyway…care to spar? Show me what that unusable Wutaian sword is capable of?"
(More than you know…as am I…) "I practice alone, Sir. I don't think you want to see what the Masamune is capable of, either." He turned to face the Major, the cool ebon hilt of the katana tight in his grasp.
Blacke suddenly went sober. "Perhaps I do, young man," he insisted, stepping within range of the sword once again, his own blade raised in a cautious attack position. "Aside from Bailey, the armory master, and a handful of enlisted, no one's seen…"
There was a blur of singing silver, the sharp squeal of metal scraping metal…and the top half of his sword spun to the floor, sheared clean through by the Masamune.
A short, awkward silence ensued, in which Blacke lost customary military composure and couldn't help but gaze stupidly at what had, mere seconds ago, been a very sturdy -- and very whole -- short sword.
"No, you don't." The cool, deliberate words brought Blacke's eyes up to meet a pair of piercing Mako emeralds that didn't show the least glimmer of surprise.
"Holy shit! That was mythril!"
"Yes, Sir, it was."
The officer shifted his attention back to what was left of the sword in his hand before dropping it to the floor like it was a scorching hot iron. "Damn," he murmured. "…Through mythril…!"
"Now if you'll excuse me, Sir, I was practicing…alone." Sephiroth didn't even seem to be even the least bit shocked or awed by what he'd just done with the massive katana. No…he knew what it could do, what power it held…what power he held…
"I can honestly see why your sergeant felt so threatened by you and that blade. I don't condone the way he handled it, but still…" Blacke stood still for a few minutes, deep in thought. When he at last spoke again, his voice was somehow teetering on the edge of triumphant, and it would have almost appeared as if he'd had an epiphany.
"You, young man, don't belong here. With a sword like that, you need to be cutting more than a perfect kata form. I think you need to take that katana where it was made." The Major headed past Sephiroth toward the door, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't go anywhere," he ordered. "I'll be back in a bit."
As Blacke disappeared through the armory door, Sephiroth looked down at the split sword, absently tapping the tip of the Masamune against the floor. (He acts…childishly joyful…as if he's made a big discovery.) he thought. (Indeed.)
In a sudden flash of anger, he gave the bottom half of the broken sword a sharp kick, sending it skidding across the room and clanging into a side wall. (I would have been 'discovered' a long time ago if that…prick hadn't barred me from anything and everything important. But…that doesn't appear to be so anymore.)
Sephiroth raised the Masamune and gave it a couple of slow, crisscrossing swipes. (Take this katana where it was made…Wutai. Of course…the war.)
(It's about time.)
---------------
Five o'clock. Sephiroth was still breezing through the base kata. He wasn't even concentrating on what he was doing anymore; his body knew the motions.
Six o'clock. The armory master arrived at precisely the instant the second hand clicked onto the twelve, and was, needless to say, a bit surprised to see someone training already at that time. He said nothing, but merely went about his duty of inspecting the mounted weapons and making sure everything was in order.
By that time, Sephiroth had begun to devise kata of his own and was steadily working through those, even going so far as to integrate them with the standard forms, performing them with such powerful and fluid movements that several times the armory master abandoned what he was doing to watch.
Another half hour ticked by, and finally Sephiroth stopped, gazing up at the clock with irritation shadowing his Mako eyes. It wasn't that he could be late for guard duty waiting like this; he didn't start until eight. But just the waiting itself…
(If I wasn't at the threshold of finally getting my chance, I would…)
"Whatever the hell it was that couldn't have been brought to my office -- later in the day, I might add-- had better be monumentally important, Major Blacke, or you risk a severe demotion!"
(President Shinra?) Sephiroth had heard the Shinra Company leader's voice only once before, but he could have picked out that harsh, stentorian bellowing anywhere.
As the armory master looked up from the sheared blade he was about to question the teenager about, Sephiroth turned to find Blacke striding in well ahead of the stout, red-suited CEO, who was so magnificently incensed that he couldn't begin to take long enough draws of his cigar.
"Again, I apologize, Mister President, but this could be…no…is monumentally important." He sounded like a giddy child; completely unbecoming for a person of his rank.
They both stopped in front of Sephiroth, and Blacke moved a bit to the side to allow for a better introduction. "I found him in here training a couple hours ago, so I figured it would be just as good a time as any to inform him of what resulted with Sergeant Bailey last week. Then I wanted him to show me what that Wutaian monster could do, and…he cut the mythril sword I'd picked up clean in half."
Shinra, who'd been staring coldly into Sephiroth's emerald Mako eyes in some attempt to sway the teenager to look away, snapped his attention momentarily to Blacke. "That's bullshit, Major. You don't cut mythril in half with another sword." He took another impossibly long draw from his cigar and resumed glowering at Sephiroth. "This scrawny-ass thing doesn't look like he could even cut butter, let alone mythril. Why in the hell are we letting kids like this into SOLDIER? I thought we'd set the standards a little higher."
(A thing…)
"The standards are plenty high, President Shinra. And you can see the split sword behind him…"
"How the hell am I supposed to know this isn't a scam?"
(A scam…)
"Neither him nor I have anything to gain from trying to scam you on something like this. He's unranked, and I'm not looking to cheat my way any higher."
"This albino kid probably needs to fake stuff like this so he'll get somewhere!"
(Kid…fake…)
"Albinos don't have green eyes, President, Sir. And not being smart, but isn't that getting off the matter?"
"There is no damn matter! You dragged me out of my office at six-thirty in the morning to show me some sickly kid with a big flimsy sword that you claim cuts mythril, saying this is monumentally important?! I've had the Turks kill people for farces like this!"
(Sickly…) Sephiroth, who'd thus far stood silently as Shinra insulted him, would take no more. His jaw tight, he brusquely turned from the two men and kicked the remaining -- and pointedly unnoticed by Shinra -- half of the blade away, which nearly buried itself in the on-looking armory master's foot. (I've taken enough insults! From Hojo, Bailey, now him…everyone else ignores me…I'll not have it anymore!)
Without a word, Sephiroth stepped up to the swords that were propped against the wall, centering himself before them. Stirred rage had set his Mako eyes glowing like a pair of emerald suns.
The Masamune made a wide, quicksilver slash…
…And Shinra's tirade was silenced by the cacophony of seven mythril blades clattering to the floor, all of them cleaved in two.
"Well…damn." Shinra seemed a shade deflated by that display. Abandoning Blacke, he approached Sephiroth, carelessly flicking forgotten ashes from his cigar onto the floor.
The teenager, who had remained facing the wall, swung sharply about, his verdant orbs once again finding the President's dark eyes an equal match. In his grip, the Masamune practically hummed with the energy of its recent strike.
"What was your name again?"
(Bastard…insult me as if I weren't even present, then ask me my name after you see how foolish those insults were…) "Sephiroth."
A scarcely perceptible wisp of recognition flitted across Shinra's stern old façade. "Yes…Sephiroth. Of course it is," he chuckled bemusedly. "Of course." He leisurely puffed on the cigar a moment, his infuriation over having been stolen from his plush office to see something he'd naturally thought worthless greatly sated by a show of power that had soundly laid his gruff protestations to rest. Finally, his eyes not leaving Sephiroth's, he barked, "Major Blacke, what was it you wanted with this kid?"
Blacke hurriedly joined them, the subtle glimmer in his oceanic eyes belying the properly expressionless military mask he'd put on while he was around the head of the company that employed him. "I think he would be a great asset serving elsewhere, Mister President. As I am to understand, his former superior was arbitrarily restricting him to guard duty, but after seeing what he did with that katana…I can honestly say that, in regards to restraining him like that…that superior was the most incompetent ass I have ever had the displeasure of being aware of."
Shinra shrugged and broke Sephiroth's gaze. "Send him to the Academy, then. He'll be good for Wutai in a few months."
"Wonderful, President Shinra, but…if you don't mind my saying so, wasn't that an awful quick change of heart?"
Shinra, who'd started for the door the moment his sudden decision was voiced, didn't bother to stop as he answered, "I've got an eye for cons, Major, and he just proved to me this wasn't one."
Between puffs of his cigar, Shinra added under his breath, "And now that I know what he is…I think it's time to see if Professor Hojo's so-called super-SOLDIER can win me a war."
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A/N: It's been two months since I updated?! Good grief, I didn't think it'd been that long. Well, for those of you who were patient enough to wait for this chapter, thank you! I hope it was worth the wait, although I'm a little dissatisfied with it myself 'cause it feels kinda rushed at the end. I'd like to try and get one more chapter up before my winter break ends, but I'm not gonna promise anything, 'cause then I probably won't. ^_~
Oh, and I'm sure cutting through mythril like that sounds a bit extreme, but I'm basing that on something I read somewhere that said the Masamune had the 'power to maul anything and everything,' or something like that -- mythril included. I don't know.
I finally put an email addy up in my bio, so feel free to email me if you want.
Thank you!!
A/N: I apologize for the long-ass wait. First it was finals, then some family stuff, and then my computer decided to get invaded by a cute little virus and temporarily cease its important functions, so…
Oh, to (hopefully) answer Chocobo Goddess' question: As I've got it planned now, this fic will be ending before the story of the game starts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Cross slash…cross slash…lunge…forward strike…back strike…overhead…)
(…Boring…boring…boring.)
Stopping short of the seventh kata, Sephiroth slowly brought the Masamune level with his face, placidly gazing at the emerald reflection of his Mako-bright eyes on the narrow flat of the katana. A short moment passed, and a barely noticeable scowl quirked his lips.
(Even with this perfect sword…these kata are still so redundant!)
He abruptly swung around, bringing the blade in a level arc as he spun…and cut the movement short in less than a heartbeat, the cold tip of the katana a hairsbreadth short of severing an understandably startled officer's jugular.
The officer -- a major by the looks of it -- gave a thin chuckle and glanced down at the blade that had nearly claimed his life. "Glad someone's in control of that monster," he said, his voice somewhere on the edge between rattled and amused.
"You should be more careful walking up behind someone like that, Sir," Sephiroth warned. "I could have killed you." He lowered the Masamune, marveling a bit when he noticed a thin red score where he'd stopped the blade.
The red-haired officer chuckled again as the teenager removed the sword from its precarious position. "I see that. And here I thought six feet was a safe distance." He folded his arms across his broad chest, his azure eyes matching the verdant ones for intensity. "I am Major David Blacke," he said. "And you are Sephiroth…the young man that got Sergeant Bailey suspended."
Sephiroth said nothing, but the flash in his Mako eyes was more than enough to indicate his feelings about that situation.
"…Not that I say I can care," Blacke added. "You were acting in self-defense, so…technically, he suspended himself. Which is fine with me. I couldn't stand him myself. The man had way too much of a temper to be a good SOLDIER officer. Or a good SOLDIER, period. I still don't know how he got through…" He trailed off for a brief moment, seeing that the teenager was now clearly losing interest in what he was saying. "And now that I told you you're not in trouble for what happened to Bailey, I should get the hell out of here, right?" he smirked.
(You could have stayed the hell out to begin with and saved us both the time.) "I can't say as it really worried me about getting in trouble, Sir. Even if it had been my fault, the punishment the military would have given me would have been…(nothing compared to what my own father put me through)…negligible." Recalling the countless hours of hell Hojo had subjected him to, he wisely chose not to divulge the true reason for his nonchalance.
"Fair enough, I suppose." Blacke nodded and looked up at the wall clock, noting the odd hour. "Now, may I ask why you are training in the armory at four o'clock in the morning? Unless you had a night guard shift and got relieved of it early, you're not even supposed to be in here. The day guards don't have to start reporting in for another two hours, either."
"I couldn't sleep, Sir, so I thought I would do something constructive."
"Sleep isn't constructive?"
Sephiroth had a difficult time restraining himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation. This officer wasn't as obstinate and foul-mouthed as Bailey, that much was certain, but his dry attempts at humor were no less annoying.
"Not much for kidding around, are you, son?" The smirk had never left his face.
"Kidding around with a superior officer is a bit odd, Sir. And no, I'm not."
"Suit yourself," Blacke replied, shrugging. "I know a lot of officers don't appreciate humor from or with the enlisted, but I think it does a lot for morale, so long as it doesn't get out of line. Then it pisses me off, just like the rest." He strode past Sephiroth and retrieved one of the standard swords that was propped against the wall behind him. "Now, since you're clearly wide awake, and I have to be up anyway…care to spar? Show me what that unusable Wutaian sword is capable of?"
(More than you know…as am I…) "I practice alone, Sir. I don't think you want to see what the Masamune is capable of, either." He turned to face the Major, the cool ebon hilt of the katana tight in his grasp.
Blacke suddenly went sober. "Perhaps I do, young man," he insisted, stepping within range of the sword once again, his own blade raised in a cautious attack position. "Aside from Bailey, the armory master, and a handful of enlisted, no one's seen…"
There was a blur of singing silver, the sharp squeal of metal scraping metal…and the top half of his sword spun to the floor, sheared clean through by the Masamune.
A short, awkward silence ensued, in which Blacke lost customary military composure and couldn't help but gaze stupidly at what had, mere seconds ago, been a very sturdy -- and very whole -- short sword.
"No, you don't." The cool, deliberate words brought Blacke's eyes up to meet a pair of piercing Mako emeralds that didn't show the least glimmer of surprise.
"Holy shit! That was mythril!"
"Yes, Sir, it was."
The officer shifted his attention back to what was left of the sword in his hand before dropping it to the floor like it was a scorching hot iron. "Damn," he murmured. "…Through mythril…!"
"Now if you'll excuse me, Sir, I was practicing…alone." Sephiroth didn't even seem to be even the least bit shocked or awed by what he'd just done with the massive katana. No…he knew what it could do, what power it held…what power he held…
"I can honestly see why your sergeant felt so threatened by you and that blade. I don't condone the way he handled it, but still…" Blacke stood still for a few minutes, deep in thought. When he at last spoke again, his voice was somehow teetering on the edge of triumphant, and it would have almost appeared as if he'd had an epiphany.
"You, young man, don't belong here. With a sword like that, you need to be cutting more than a perfect kata form. I think you need to take that katana where it was made." The Major headed past Sephiroth toward the door, clapping him lightly on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't go anywhere," he ordered. "I'll be back in a bit."
As Blacke disappeared through the armory door, Sephiroth looked down at the split sword, absently tapping the tip of the Masamune against the floor. (He acts…childishly joyful…as if he's made a big discovery.) he thought. (Indeed.)
In a sudden flash of anger, he gave the bottom half of the broken sword a sharp kick, sending it skidding across the room and clanging into a side wall. (I would have been 'discovered' a long time ago if that…prick hadn't barred me from anything and everything important. But…that doesn't appear to be so anymore.)
Sephiroth raised the Masamune and gave it a couple of slow, crisscrossing swipes. (Take this katana where it was made…Wutai. Of course…the war.)
(It's about time.)
---------------
Five o'clock. Sephiroth was still breezing through the base kata. He wasn't even concentrating on what he was doing anymore; his body knew the motions.
Six o'clock. The armory master arrived at precisely the instant the second hand clicked onto the twelve, and was, needless to say, a bit surprised to see someone training already at that time. He said nothing, but merely went about his duty of inspecting the mounted weapons and making sure everything was in order.
By that time, Sephiroth had begun to devise kata of his own and was steadily working through those, even going so far as to integrate them with the standard forms, performing them with such powerful and fluid movements that several times the armory master abandoned what he was doing to watch.
Another half hour ticked by, and finally Sephiroth stopped, gazing up at the clock with irritation shadowing his Mako eyes. It wasn't that he could be late for guard duty waiting like this; he didn't start until eight. But just the waiting itself…
(If I wasn't at the threshold of finally getting my chance, I would…)
"Whatever the hell it was that couldn't have been brought to my office -- later in the day, I might add-- had better be monumentally important, Major Blacke, or you risk a severe demotion!"
(President Shinra?) Sephiroth had heard the Shinra Company leader's voice only once before, but he could have picked out that harsh, stentorian bellowing anywhere.
As the armory master looked up from the sheared blade he was about to question the teenager about, Sephiroth turned to find Blacke striding in well ahead of the stout, red-suited CEO, who was so magnificently incensed that he couldn't begin to take long enough draws of his cigar.
"Again, I apologize, Mister President, but this could be…no…is monumentally important." He sounded like a giddy child; completely unbecoming for a person of his rank.
They both stopped in front of Sephiroth, and Blacke moved a bit to the side to allow for a better introduction. "I found him in here training a couple hours ago, so I figured it would be just as good a time as any to inform him of what resulted with Sergeant Bailey last week. Then I wanted him to show me what that Wutaian monster could do, and…he cut the mythril sword I'd picked up clean in half."
Shinra, who'd been staring coldly into Sephiroth's emerald Mako eyes in some attempt to sway the teenager to look away, snapped his attention momentarily to Blacke. "That's bullshit, Major. You don't cut mythril in half with another sword." He took another impossibly long draw from his cigar and resumed glowering at Sephiroth. "This scrawny-ass thing doesn't look like he could even cut butter, let alone mythril. Why in the hell are we letting kids like this into SOLDIER? I thought we'd set the standards a little higher."
(A thing…)
"The standards are plenty high, President Shinra. And you can see the split sword behind him…"
"How the hell am I supposed to know this isn't a scam?"
(A scam…)
"Neither him nor I have anything to gain from trying to scam you on something like this. He's unranked, and I'm not looking to cheat my way any higher."
"This albino kid probably needs to fake stuff like this so he'll get somewhere!"
(Kid…fake…)
"Albinos don't have green eyes, President, Sir. And not being smart, but isn't that getting off the matter?"
"There is no damn matter! You dragged me out of my office at six-thirty in the morning to show me some sickly kid with a big flimsy sword that you claim cuts mythril, saying this is monumentally important?! I've had the Turks kill people for farces like this!"
(Sickly…) Sephiroth, who'd thus far stood silently as Shinra insulted him, would take no more. His jaw tight, he brusquely turned from the two men and kicked the remaining -- and pointedly unnoticed by Shinra -- half of the blade away, which nearly buried itself in the on-looking armory master's foot. (I've taken enough insults! From Hojo, Bailey, now him…everyone else ignores me…I'll not have it anymore!)
Without a word, Sephiroth stepped up to the swords that were propped against the wall, centering himself before them. Stirred rage had set his Mako eyes glowing like a pair of emerald suns.
The Masamune made a wide, quicksilver slash…
…And Shinra's tirade was silenced by the cacophony of seven mythril blades clattering to the floor, all of them cleaved in two.
"Well…damn." Shinra seemed a shade deflated by that display. Abandoning Blacke, he approached Sephiroth, carelessly flicking forgotten ashes from his cigar onto the floor.
The teenager, who had remained facing the wall, swung sharply about, his verdant orbs once again finding the President's dark eyes an equal match. In his grip, the Masamune practically hummed with the energy of its recent strike.
"What was your name again?"
(Bastard…insult me as if I weren't even present, then ask me my name after you see how foolish those insults were…) "Sephiroth."
A scarcely perceptible wisp of recognition flitted across Shinra's stern old façade. "Yes…Sephiroth. Of course it is," he chuckled bemusedly. "Of course." He leisurely puffed on the cigar a moment, his infuriation over having been stolen from his plush office to see something he'd naturally thought worthless greatly sated by a show of power that had soundly laid his gruff protestations to rest. Finally, his eyes not leaving Sephiroth's, he barked, "Major Blacke, what was it you wanted with this kid?"
Blacke hurriedly joined them, the subtle glimmer in his oceanic eyes belying the properly expressionless military mask he'd put on while he was around the head of the company that employed him. "I think he would be a great asset serving elsewhere, Mister President. As I am to understand, his former superior was arbitrarily restricting him to guard duty, but after seeing what he did with that katana…I can honestly say that, in regards to restraining him like that…that superior was the most incompetent ass I have ever had the displeasure of being aware of."
Shinra shrugged and broke Sephiroth's gaze. "Send him to the Academy, then. He'll be good for Wutai in a few months."
"Wonderful, President Shinra, but…if you don't mind my saying so, wasn't that an awful quick change of heart?"
Shinra, who'd started for the door the moment his sudden decision was voiced, didn't bother to stop as he answered, "I've got an eye for cons, Major, and he just proved to me this wasn't one."
Between puffs of his cigar, Shinra added under his breath, "And now that I know what he is…I think it's time to see if Professor Hojo's so-called super-SOLDIER can win me a war."
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A/N: It's been two months since I updated?! Good grief, I didn't think it'd been that long. Well, for those of you who were patient enough to wait for this chapter, thank you! I hope it was worth the wait, although I'm a little dissatisfied with it myself 'cause it feels kinda rushed at the end. I'd like to try and get one more chapter up before my winter break ends, but I'm not gonna promise anything, 'cause then I probably won't. ^_~
Oh, and I'm sure cutting through mythril like that sounds a bit extreme, but I'm basing that on something I read somewhere that said the Masamune had the 'power to maul anything and everything,' or something like that -- mythril included. I don't know.
I finally put an email addy up in my bio, so feel free to email me if you want.
Thank you!!