When Tseng's alarm rang at the usual 5:40, he reached out to it to turn it off. He had actually been awake for while, but could not sleep anymore because there was too much on his mind, but there was no particular reason to get up earlier than usual, so, opposed to his usual habits, he had stayed in bed and let his thoughts drift.
First on his mind was Sephiroth, whom he had neglected to check up on the day before. He was worried about Sephiroth's condition, but he just could not take any more the day before and no one had specifically ordered him to care for him. He had fallen out of the habit of babysitting the SOLDIER quite a long time ago, and most people would not even remember now that they had been friends once.
After the alarm was turned off, Tseng swung his legs out of bed. His simple black, Wutaian-style robe he had been sleeping in had slipped as he was tossing and turning in the night. He pulled the robe back into shape and looked around the room. It was still quite dark, aside from the greenish glow emitted by the mako energy powering the city, but the sky in the horizon was starting to lighten. It was another sight Tseng quite enjoyed, although he knew most people could not relate to it.
Second on his mind was his current long-term assignment: keeping Rufus in check and keeping him sane in his solitary confinement. He could not allow Rufus manipulate him. Maybe it would be better for him to be relieved of this duty. Although it was perhaps too early to give up. Although Tseng genuinely tried his best to balance his duties with kindness toward President Shinra's young successor, he somewhat enjoyed the power dynamic, regardless of its ill favor.
After making his bed, he went to the kitchen and checked his cleaning schedule. He was not very thorough with cleaning, but he was very diligent in following his schedule. And he could not stand dirt and clutter in his private space. Or any space, for that matter. He kept a few minutes free every morning to clean a part of his apartment in rotation. It was not enough, but it was the best he could do.
Cleaning the kitchen gave him more time for introspection, and his third thought was of the beautiful young woman in the slums who had cried over her boyfriend the day before, and it was partially his fault, probably, as far as he could tell. He had just wanted to help Zack, but somehow, anything or anyone he touched, broke. His job was the only thing he was actually good at. But he still made up his mind to give Zack a talking to today. He could not bear to watch his comrade taking out his anger on Aerith. She did not deserve any of this. Just thinking about confronting Zack about Aerith made his heart beat hard in his chest. He did not want Zack to know about his involvement in Aerith' situation, and he had no idea how to address the issue without giving everything away.
When the cleaning was done, he went to the bathroom, slid his robe off, revealing his slender body, his hair falling down past his shoulders. He stepped into the shower, shaved and washed his hair. In a way, Zack and Aerith had been an embodiment of Tseng's idea of a perfect relationship. Although it hurt to see her with another man, he was happy for her to have met someone like Zack who put up with her every whim (most of the time). Someone who did not know what she was, and to whom it would not matter. Someone who could and would protect her when the time came. Even from Tseng himself, if need be, although he hoped it would never come to that.
After drying off his body, brushing his teeth and drying and brushing his hair, he went back to the kitchen, still naked, and prepared a cup of coffee with milk and sugar. Back in his bedroom, his closet was full of duplicates of the same black suit, white shirt, black pants, and black tie. Working six days a week on average, he barely ever wore anything other than the Turks' uniform. He picked purple shorts to wear, put on his pants and shirt and neatly tied the tie around his collar. He picked up the hangers his clothes from yesterday were hung from and put them into a separate section of his closet for used clothes. He had his clothes picked up once a week for dry cleaning. The pick-up day for dry cleaning was the day after tomorrow and his closet was getting full.
He went back into the bathroom, brushed his hair again and tied it in his usual ponytail. His hair was getting quite long, but he could not make up his mind if he wanted it shorter or longer or just like that. It was not an issue as long as it was not getting in the way of his work. Figuring out what he wanted was a lot harder for him. After putting on moisturizer, he finally picked up a small brush and painted the small, red huadian between his brows. It was another thing he had started appreciating only after reaching adulthood. The company did not reprimand him for openly appreciating Wutaian culture, so long as he remained loyal and adhered to the Turks' uniform regulations. He suspected that keeping loyal Wutaians in the company was some sort of propaganda move to demonstrate Shinra's power over their enemy, but it did not matter for him.
He mustered his face one last time, went back to the kitchen, set his coffee mug on the table and sat down with his phone. He checked the news and his messages while sipping his coffee. Angeal and Genesis had been officially pronounced dead months ago, so there was nothing on the news about them. He raised his eyebrows as he opened a news page about Sephiroth being on hiatus for special training, featuring one of the staged photos that had been taken last year for possible future cover-ups. Sephiroth's mental stability had always been an issue. Less so in recent years, but the more he grew in power, the more an extended unavailability of the most powerful of Shinra's combatants could trigger speculations of declining power and incentivize anti-Shinra activities. The Shinra company was very concerned about the public perception of their military power, and they did not hesitate to use shirtless pictures of the young, much admired, SOLDIER to quench rumors before they even began. Only few people would suspect that Sephiroth was actually moping in his room. It had worked in the past, and it would work again.
Tseng closed his phone, finished his coffee quickly, got up and rolled up his sleeves. As he was washing his cup, his thoughts continued to wander. Moping was not the right word to describe Sephiroth's current state. At least, the top brass were taking his situation seriously. But he knew that they would ultimately not do anything to actually help him. He placed the cup on the otherwise empty rack to dry, dried his hands and wiped away the splatters of water on the counter. As he hung the dish towel up to dry, the phone he had left on the table rang. A slow day after all the commotion yesterday would have been nice, but there was always more work to do, and he hardly ever could take an actual break.
He stepped around the table and picked up the phone. It was Chief Veld. "Sir?", he spoke into the phone. Veld never beat around the bush when relaying orders: "Bring Sephiroth to the research department before noon today." Tseng suppressed the urge to advocate against the order and instead inquired: "Anything else I should know?" The chief knew exactly what he was getting at, and after a short pause, he replied: "You have permission to get SOLDIER Fair's help if necessary." Tseng rolled his eyes and was glad that Veld could not see it.
That order seemed simple enough on first glance, but there was a twist. And the twist was not that Sephiroth was afraid of needles. Although Tseng would not be able to force Sephiroth into going, he was still the person with the highest chance of success in this futile undertaking. It was always difficult to make Sephiroth do anything he did not want to do, but he hated the research department with a passion that would confuse the uninformed onlooker, considering that he owed much of what made him the successful SOLDIER he now was to them. Tseng had a few guesses as to why, but Sephiroth kept the reasons to himself, and Tseng would soon find out about them. "Understood", he confirmed. "Good luck", Veld closed as he hung up. Tseng stared at his phone for a second, debating his options. Chief Veld was hoping, just as everyone else did, that Zack would follow into Angeal's footsteps. Angeal had been the key to keep Sephiroth in check in recent years. But him suggesting to get Zack's help now, after their common friend had not even been gone for a day, was pushing it too far.
He rolled down and buttoned his sleeves, slid his phone into his pocket and put on his suit. Checking his appearance in the mirror one last time, he put on his gloves and shoes, grabbed his gun, and stepped out of his apartment.