Disclaimer: Square -- Big giant company with big giant piles of money and big giant all-inclusive rights to anything Final Fantasy.
Me -- None of the above.
A/N: Once again, this is late. A thousand apologies for that. One massive, colossal case of writer's block. Enormous. …I'm sorry. Feel free to throw whatever household appliance you may have handy at me. Go ahead. Maybe getting clocked in the head with a toaster would permanently take care of that writer's block…
Incidentally, I got a proverbial kick in the ass over this particular bout of braindeath (Can you do that? Actually get over it? I mean, it is dead…) after I beat Seph in Kingdom Hearts. It's sad that it takes something like that to get me going again, but at the same time, so very wonderful. ^_^
Oh, and I also apologize if the spacing's kinda stupid. I wrote this in a different program than I normally do. 'Kay, I'll shut up now.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Green. The color of jade, leaves, emeralds…acid…)
Sephiroth sat alone at a small circular table in the corner of the Academy cafeteria, staring placidly into the tall glass of water before him. His reflection in the clear liquid was small, blurry, and undefined at best, but his eyes, recently lit by a fresh, albeit miniscule, dose of Mako, shone like a pair of magic materia, hot with energy and neon-bright. They were also both eerily hollow, yet unfathomably deep at the same time, endowing them with a haunted glare that he'd been well aware of since he was a small child. He had also decided long ago that he hated that perpetual glow, because it only served as a reminder of what -- or rather, who -- had caused it in the first place.
(Nearly seven months it's been since I've seen him, yet I am not allowed to put him out of my mind.)
Suddenly losing his desire even for such a meager thing as a glass of water, he gave a soft snort and shoved the glass to the center of the table. He gazed at it a moment longer, contemplating what to do -- as a borderline SOLDIER First-Class, he was now allowed a fair deal of time on his own -- before deciding to just return to his room until yet another bout of tactical training exercises commenced in another hour and a half. He figured remaining in the cafeteria wouldn't make much sense; he couldn't even remember why he'd come here in the first place. He wasn't at all hungry, and, although there were plenty of other people to strike up a conversation with if he cared to -- which he didn't -- he would only end up staring at the water again, or perhaps the wall, thinking about too many things, trivial or not, and making himself upset.
He shot sharply to his feet, garnering furtive glances from a trio of lower Second-Class chatting at a nearby table. But no sooner had he started to push in his chair than someone loudly announced the arrival of a superior officer, initiating a brief cacophony of scraping, thudding chairs and scuffing boots as everyone present, Sephiroth included, snapped to attention facing the burgundy, double doors of the entrance.
The officer present, a tall, athletically-built man in his early forties with short, jet-black hair and the uniform decoration of a lieutenant general, stood not three feet into the room, scanning the mechanically sobered faces with pitch-dark eyes until he found the object of his perusal and ordered the SOLDIERs at ease.
"SOLDIER Sephiroth," he said as he neared the platinum-haired young man, completely ignoring the handful of other SOLDIERs who'd abandoned their various conversations out of curiosity and were congregating a few feet away, not even attempting to disguise their eavesdropping. "Second-Class, Fourth Level, right?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Come with me." The officer gave the simple command and strode back out of the cafeteria, snapping at the disappointed little gathering that if they wanted something interesting to listen to, they should get the hell out of SOLDIER and find some gossipy old grandmas to chat with. As Sephiroth followed him out, he couldn't help but let an amused half-smirk quirk his lips.
The officer stopped when they were both outside the cafeteria, moving to stand in an apparently useless, unoccupied little alcove on the opposite side of the hall. Sephiroth joined him, not even bothering to be formal and wait to be told.
"Lieutenant General Alen Merser," he introduced himself. "I am the current highest-ranking officer in SOLDIER, but I'm sure you haven't heard much of me, since for some asinine reason, the Company's elected to relegate me to desk jobs and training here at the Academy while the younger officers have it out in Wutai...but that's beside the point. I stopped being pissed-off at that a long time ago."
He paused for a moment, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Anyway, I just got a phone call about you from none other than President Shinra himself. Seems he's taken notice of the fact that in seven months you've managed to best most every officer here, the majority of them being twice your age and having twice as much experience, make our tactical simulations look like they were designed by infants, and go from a nobody here on recommendation to a SOLDIER Second-Class, Fourth Level that the newbies are scared shitless of and the officers have a healthy respect for. I suppose someone who can do all that and shear through swords and rifle barrels would get such high recognition, eh?"
(I should hope so.) "Yes, Sir. It's a shame my first commanding officer didn't care to acknowledge my abilities, Sir; otherwise I would have done all of that much sooner." (But I couldn't help it that he was a no-talent, dead-end hack who was too threatened by me to give me any credit.)
"You've got a lot of confidence. That's good; you'll need it." Merser chuckled dryly and folded his arms across his broad chest. "See, it seems that the President wants you in Wutai, pronto. He wouldn't even tell me why, but he wants you ranked and shipped off by the end of the week. I don't know where he gets off sending all you young brats over there, or why he requested you in particular, regardless of the skill you have with a blade and all...but I'm not really in a place to question him about any of it. In any case...Sephiroth...he said it was my responsibility to see to it that you get to First-Class A.S.A.P., and there's really only two ways to do that, one of which would require you spending the rest of the year -- or more -- here and making the rank the old-fashioned way, which obviously isn't an option in this case. The other way..." He trailed off, letting his gaze wander from Sephiroth, and heaved a gusty sigh. "...The other way...is a procedure we don't commonly put into practice anymore. Since President Shinra wants it, however, I have to oblige him."
Lieutenant General Merser met Sephiroth's luminous emerald eyes again, his expression totally devoid of the subtle geniality it had only minutes ago possessed. "A duel."
The cold glow of his Mako orbs betrayed the heat of thrilled anticipation that melted into Sephiroth's veins at the sound of those two words. "A duel, Sir." Even his voice did nothing to relay his true feeling.
"Yes...a duel. A long time ago, when a SOLDIER's commendation was questionable, or when something dire necessitated it, he would be able to secure that commendation if he defeated an officer, of higher rank than him but lower than or equal to the rank the SOLDIER in question was trying to obtain, undeniably besting him in a one-on-one, hand-to-hand fight. We rarely do that anymore, not only because in most cases, it's not necessary, but because it frequently got out of hand, and either the officer or the junior SOLDIER were killed or severely injured. It usually wasn't because the junior was unskilled and unable to fight the superior properly, but the superiors tended to get madder than all hell and go after the juniors unprovoked, and of course he'd have to defend himself, and...ah, I'm sure you get the idea. We've pretty much eliminated it 'cause it got too ugly."
"I see, Sir."
"Well, to make a long story short, then…since I'm currently the highest-ranked SOLDIER and one of the few officers you haven't beaten hand-to-hand, you will duel me. Go get that hell-forged katana of yours and report to the courtyard in half an hour."
In the blink of an eye, Merser's expression darkened from sober to deadpan heartlessness. "But know this," he began, his suddenly cool tone more than a little threatening, "As do all the other officers here, I respect you and what you can do, as far as you'd like to take that. I am also agreeing to this because President Shinra demanded it, and as much as I may think he's an incompetent, money-grubbing ass, he is the president, and what he says goes. But sword-shearing katana or no, I do not fear you. And I will not hold back, just because this is something the president wants. You'll use all your skills, or you'll get badly hurt and fail miserably. That is a damn serious promise…Sephiroth."
Merser left at that, brushing past the young man and marching back down the hall. Sephiroth remained where he was a moment longer, moving out a step to watch the officer walk away. "Likewise...Sir," he hissed.
--------------------------------------------------
The courtyard was much like the armory, only twice the size and half as orientated to weapon display and storage. The floor was concrete -- cold, archaic, and unforgiving, clearly meant to teach a SOLDIER how not to fall or stumble. The walls, in stark contrast to the somber, steel-gray floor, were white-washed brick, and proudly bore numerous scars and gouges from previous training sessions and duels. Several dozen swords, mostly ornate showpieces too dull and unbalanced to be useful in actual combat, adorned those walls, intermingled with a handful of elaborate, obsidian-hued rifles, which were also, for the most part, useless.
Sephiroth had spent much of his time at the Academy here. In between the tactical training sessions and simulations, he had frequently returned to the courtyard, Masamune in hand, to further perfect a skill and technique he already knew so well. The feel of that proud katana in his hands -- a powerful, quicksilver extension of his own body, he'd often thought -- pleased him when not much else would. Having it with him, in his control, made him temporarily forget all else, all the hell he had had to endure to get far enough to receive what was so rightfully his.
But now, he knew, would be the last time he would be in this place for a very long time, if not forever. He had little doubt that the lieutenant general was exceptionally skilled; he was the highest-ranked SOLDIER, and it didn't require much reasoning to realize he must have attained that rank through personal achievement, and not this rare, direly-necessitated dueling. However, little doubt though he had for the officer's skill, he had absolutely no doubt about his own.
He would best Merser as he had so many others and would be in Wutai in a matter of days, just as he wanted, and just as President Shinra demanded.
Sephiroth arrived at the courtyard before Merser, Masamune sheathed at his hip. His slender fingers idly gripped the hilt as he entered, taking note of the twenty or so lower officers and the scattering of enlisted that were gathered opposite the door. Nobody acknowledged him as he entered, although several of the younger SOLDIERs visibly cringed at the sight of him.
(Witnesses, I suppose...perhaps mere spectators...)
He reached the center of the courtyard and prepared to wait, but a split second after he had come to a halt the ancient steel doors behind him squealed open, and in strode Lieutenant General Merser. A massive, crystalline broad sword, set with a single piece of coldly glittering spell materia, was strapped across his back. That same frozen indifference that had so spontaneously hardened his face half an hour ago remained, a granite mask not easily read or seen through.
"Well, since I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants to get this over with," he began, shooting a brief glance beyond Sephiroth and pointing toward the cluster of waiting SOLDIERs, "I'll explain how this works. These duels require witnesses, which I shouldn't have to explain are those officers and enlisted, and they'll make sure this doesn't get out of hand. And speaking of getting out of hand, no intentional killing strikes or attacking when the other is down."
"No intentional killing strikes, Sir? Since we're using real weapons, wouldn't there be a chance for accidental killing strikes?"
"Not against me, there isn't," Merser replied with a haughty little smirk. "We use real weapons because it's pretty much a given that at this point in SOLDIER, you should know well enough how to defend yourself against them. And if you don't, then…I guess you didn't deserve the chance for a promotion after all. It isn't like this is a melee."
"Of course not."
"Just remember what I said…Sephiroth. This is mandated by President Shinra, but I'm not going to let you just walk away with a promotion. If you're going to exceed my rank, then you need to prove to me you deserve it."
"I do, and I will, Sir," Sephiroth replied evenly, drawing the Masamune.
"We'll see about that, young man." Merser reached back for his sword, easily pulling it free and bringing it over his shoulder.
Sephiroth lashed out with Masamune even as Merser brought the broad sword to bear, a bit angered but somehow not surprised when the officer's sword held, halting the katana with a hollow clang.
(I expected as much.) Sephiroth lowered the katana and took a step back. (Someone of his caliber would know enough to not bring a blade I can cut through.) "A fine blade, Sir," he growled.
"I'm glad you like it," Merser laughed derisively. "I told you you'd have to work for this. That monster of yours isn't going to cut through my Diamond Buster Sword like mythril or steel. Now…let's start this…and see if you can beat me the old-fashioned way. En garde!"
Merser launched into a bold offensive rush, whipping the massive sword in a singing flurry of criss-crossing slashes, forcing Sephiroth back on his heels as the young man deftly intercepted every strike. He narrowly ducked beneath Merser's last high swipe and thrust the Masamune straight up. Feeling the two swords catch, he quickly switched to a two-handed grip and pushed the blade out and away, shoving the Buster Sword back as he snapped to his feet in a half-spin.
Sephiroth didn't waste a second, bringing the Masamune in a descending diagonal slash, swatting Merser's abrupt horizontal swing away and nimbly countering with one of his own. The officer sprang back, but Sephiroth followed, plunging toward him with a hail of rapid, blurred slashes and stabs of his own. Merser was hard-pressed to parry successively, difficult as it was to continually follow the young man's motions, propelled as they were by a dangerously controlled, simmering fury.
Sephiroth knew, even as he fell into a definite rhythm, that he'd be leaving himself wide open to counterattack now if he let up or allowed a flaw to disrupt his movements, so he hastily decided to break his own momentum. There was no room for any weakness or miscalculation; he'd leave nothing for the skilled officer to exploit.
He cracked the Masamune hard against the cutting edge of the horizontally-level Buster Sword. Then, in one smooth motion, he lunged forward and ground the katana's flat against the Buster Sword's, forcing the huge blade low, and planted a foot lightly atop the angled flat, vaulting from it in a wide-arcing back flip that put him well out of Merser's immediate range.
Having spotted the telltale flare in the officer's materia as he leapt, Sephiroth landed in a one-handed handspring and brought the Masamune to bear the instant his feet touched the floor again, wheeling it in a complete circle in front of him and deflecting the crimson burst of fire that exploded at him.
(That was only…the weakest Fire spell…ah, damn!)
No sooner than he'd stopped the whirling silver blade did Mercer rush through the dissipating cinders of the Fire spell he'd invoked, ramming the broad side of his sword into Sephiroth's stomach, pinning the katana's flat and the young man's arm as well, driving him brutally hard to the floor.
Several tense moments passed, eliciting numerous remarks of both concern and derision from the onlookers as Sephiroth remained where he'd fallen, his emerald eyes shut and his breathing heavy as he tried to recover the air that had been knocked from his lungs. Merser, in accordance with the unwritten rule that he couldn't finish the duel as he would in normal combat, lowered his blade and stepped back to wait for the young man to concede or resume the fight. He readied himself for the latter.
(Stupid…so…damn…obvious…) Sephiroth slowly, carefully, sat up, mentally berating himself for falling for such an elementary ploy. He opened his eyes and glanced down at his sword arm, keenly aware of a sharp, hot pain that burned all the way through his shoulder, noting with more than a passing interest that he still held the Masamune fast despite such a tremendous impact. Had his grip on it been that unrelenting, or had the magnificent katana simply not allowed itself to be dropped…?
Shaking such foolish thoughts from his head, he rose staggeringly to his feet, switching the Masamune to his left hand as he did so. The onlookers' comments gradually quieted as he looked first to them, then deliberately shifted his gaze to the Lieutenant General. The officer let his mask slip for a split second to offer him a vaguely arrogant smirk.
"Nice little trick, there, young man," he said. "But if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were underestimating me. A move like that…you weren't thinking I'd actually let that window of opportunity slide? Don't tell me SOLDIER's gotten so bad that they don't even teach basic strategy…"
"SOLDIER has nothing to do with it, Sir. It was a simple lapse in judgment, and there will never be another like it."
"You'll be dead if there is. I used the flat of the blade there; were we on the field, you would've been cut in two, just like all those blades you demolished." Merser shifted impatiently. "Now…I'm sure you're hurting, but I'd bet money there's no chance you'd concede to something that simple."
(I will not concede…period.) "No chance in hell, Sir." Absently flexing his rapidly numbing arm, Sephiroth narrowed his hotly glowing green orbs and pointed the Masamune straight at the officer. "I will be promoted, and I will go to Wutai. And not because President Shinra demanded it; I deserve that much, and I will prove to you…and whoever else doubts me…that I do!" He glared down the length of the katana, the intense jade boring deep into the officer's dark eyes. The ink-black eyes, so much like Hojo's…
(…No. Enough.) He snapped the katana once to the side and brought again into a two-handed grip, a scarcely perceptible cringe passing over his features at the movement. "Then, Sir, if you don't mind…I'd like to finish this." Raising the sword level near his shoulder, he slid into a ready stance.
"Of course." Merser settled back a bit.
Sephiroth started this round, snapping forward in an ethereal flash of platinum, driving the Masamune so forcefully into the Buster Sword with a swift diagonal slash that Merser knew would have knocked the giant blade clean from his hands had he not had such a fierce grip on it. He rocked backward further still as the young man drove hard at him with a triplicate of the same brutal strikes.
"Ridiculous," he murmured, barely deflecting a sudden low swipe that would have taken him off his feet. "The force of my attack had to crush something, yet he retaliates as if that attack hadn't even happened. Perhaps another..."
"No more spells, Sir," Sephiroth suddenly interrupted, his cadence unfaltering. "We're done."
"What?" The officer dodged another high strike and swerved to the side. "No one's..."
"..You will." Sephiroth fluidly altered Masamune's course to follow Merser, purposely curving the blade to sail above the officer's head to bring it this time in a sharply rising arc. He whirled with it but stopped the blade straight in the air for an instant - an instant in which Merser could have sworn the katana began to glow a faint blue - before snapping straight into the air, turning another revolution to face the officer.
Meeting the lieutenant general's mildly startled gaze, he held it rapt for the split second it took him to reverse the blade in his hands and drive the razor tip downward fiercely against the defensively-raised Buster Sword…and piercing it.
With a sharp snap followed by an eerily musical cacophony as of splintering glass, the Diamond Buster Sword shattered in a burst of iridescent crystal shards.
The dislodged spell materia clanked to the floor, bouncing several times before rolling to a stop against Sephiroth's boot not a second after he'd landed. Ignoring the rising murmur among the witnesses, he stooped to retrieve the green orb, and after sheathing the Masamune, crunched across the short distance of splintered diamond to hold it out to a duly shocked Lieutenant General Merser, who was gazing stupidly at the ragged remains of his prized Buster Sword.
"What…in the bloodiest hell…was that…?" He flung the useless sword handle to the floor and looked up at Sephiroth. "Even…diamond…doesn't stand up to you?!"
"Obviously not…Sir," the young man replied without intonation. "Your materia."
Merser slowly took the proffered sphere from Sephiroth's hand, turning it over a few times between his fingers, his weathered face contorting in deep concentration. He finally looked to Sephiroth again, having apparently arrived at his hard-sought conclusion, and a huge smile, this one not of sarcasm or malevolence, turned up his lips.
"Well, I'll be doubly damned!" he declared. "No one's ever stood up to the Diamond Buster Sword so well, let alone stand up to me like that. And destroying the damn thing, too!"
"I told you I would earn this victory as you said, Sir."
"Well…shit. Heh." Merser shook his head and tucked the materia in his pants pocket. "I have to concede then, seeing as how you wrecked my blade in record time. Even with that little slip-up…you've got me convinced. I think I need to give the president a call and tell him I'm not the highest-ranked anymore."
"Sir?"
"I've only dueled a junior once before, and that was ten years ago. He didn't stand a chance against me, but I did allow him a menial increase in rank because he showed so much potential. You, though…I think it's safe to say you've gone way beyond just having potential. You've taken your skill with that katana and rammed it so far down my throat I'd be a blind ass not to give you proper due."
"Seriously, though, Sephiroth…" The lieutenant general's smile faded into an expression treading a thin line between sad and proud. "I'd be lying if I said this didn't piss me off to lose to you. I'm madder than all hell. But being the military man that I am, I do know enough to put my feelings aside in matters concerning SOLDIER and its leadership. You defeated me, and by rights of the duel code, you ascend to my rank or higher. I can tell you already know which you're getting."
"They'd better not chain you to a desk when you get back from Wutai, though, or they'll have me to deal with."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Can you tell I don't write fights very often? Ugh…yuck. Bleh. .
I am trying my hardest to get back on a regular updating schedule. I've got a billion and one things going on right now, not to mention all these nagging little fic ideas that have a nasty habit of distracting me from this fic… Anyway, I hope not to disappoint, so for all of you who so kindly read and review this…thank you, and I'll try not to keep you waiting so long again!