Chapter summary: Sephiroth's routine in midgard. His third birthday and a new acquaintance with a nobody.
Chapter 4: The Small Things in Life
[ μ ] – εуλ 1982 (October)
Sephiroth twists awkwardly in his seat to get a final good look at the snowy mountain town. In his short life, this is the first time he has left the Shinra Mansion grounds. He has never met any of the townspeople nor felt the desire to.
The sight of the water tower surrounded by quaint little houses sends an echo of memory through his soul. But he feels little attachment to this place - none since Gast left. His memories of the old man are the only ones worth remembering to Sephiroth. With that thought he turns around and looks out into the distance.
Midgar… His soul tugs at him. It is a familiar name. He can almost see it in front of him. It is where he must go. It is there his future lies.
As the little mountain town is swallowed in the horizon, it does not occur to the boy to even ask for its name.
./.
He stands next to professor Hojo in front of a long table with the backdrop of the Shinra tower's construction through the floor to ceiling windows. A group of men sit around it, all of them contemplating them. Or rather contemplating him, by the way they crane their necks to see him above the table. Though many a calculating glance is spared for the professor as well.
"So this is the one - the future of SOLDIER?" The deep gravelly voice breaks the silence. It is a big man with short black hair and beard who speaks. His face is angular and deeply lined though he doesn't seem old. A distinct sense of contempt comes over Sephiroth.
His attention is quickly drawn away, however, by a cultured voice coming from the man at the head of the table. A strong dislike creeps up Sephiroth's spine this emotion much more potent than for the first. "Come around the table so I can see you, little one."
Sephiroth obeys. The executives turn in their chairs for a better look at him as he walks by. "What an exotic look!" pipes one of the executives. Sephiroth glances at him; a man in a dirt-coloured suit, has a distinctly round shape. The big smile on his face doesn't strike Sephiroth as genuine. A rush of familiarity comes to him but he feels nothing other than the usual disdain and indifference.
"What a beautiful boy." This time it is another executive he passes. The man's girth is also a bit larger than what Sephiroth is used to. He is much taller and looks older, wearing a striped purple suit. His eyes evaluate Sephiroth as he walks by. This time there is no tug of familiarity from his soul and he mentally dismisses him.
Coming to a stop before the head of the table, he studies the man before him just as the man examines him. This man's body is also a few circles wider than usual and he wears another odd coloured suit. Sephiroth cannot quite place the colour which is between a purple and deep red. Though he has never seen it before, it is very familiar. Familiar, just like the blond hair and moustache as well as the smoky smell that wafts around him. "Tell me, boy, what is your name" The icy blue eyes study him critically.
"Sephiroth." he answers simply. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realises it is the first time he has spoken his name himself. It sounds strange coming from his mouth. Everyone that matters, and their flunkies, know who Sephiroth is.
"Hmm…" The man takes a long suck from his cigar. "Then, Sephiroth, do you know who I am?" His soul knows very well who this man is, it knows it so well it is on the tip of his tongue.
But he doesn't know it, not yet.
perhaps he could figure it out, however. He was not told the purpose of this visit. Only that they were going to Midgar where the new Shinra HQ is located. He knows where he is, he saw it on the ground where they landed the helicopter that brought them part way over the ocean.
A sign so achingly familiar to his soul. The first symbol he learned to recognise, the mark for its influence, power and property. Shinra. And this man, sits on that power. It is almost visible; the way he holds himself, the way the others defer to him even though they are confident people in their own right.
"You are the president of Shinra." The moment the words slip from his mouth he knows he is right.
The cunning man eyes the boy in front of him for a long moment. Suddenly a laugh comes bubbling out of the blond and he is soon accompanied by the Executives who laugh along with him. As abruptly as he started, he stops and the others are quick to break off themselves. Sephiroth privately thinks that whole scene was a totally pointless gesture.
The President leans forwards towards him. "Aren't you a smart boy? Yes, I am President Shinra. But do you know what that means, Sephiroth? It means that I am your master. What ever happens to you, it is because I have decided it. Whatever you do, it is because I have told you to do so. Do you understand?" The two lock gazes. Sephiroth is not surprised. This concept is familiar to his soul, though it rankles.
'Beware of Shinra. If you can, do not let them know what you are capable of.' Gast's last words come to him and Sephiroth nods once. and President Shinra leans back in his chair, pleased but contemplative. 'For now' Sephiroth silently promises to himself.
The big man turns to Professor Hojo and waves him over. "He looks much older than three, he looks almost as old as my son Rufus. Tell me, how are the new results from the SOLDIER treatments going?"
The professor nudges up his glasses. "They are going well, as I said in my report, there is a marked improvement in physical strength and reaction time as well as regeneration. Unfortunately, the child is too young still to use Materia without risk for his well being. So we are unable to establish the baseline on his ability. There have been no significant lasting side-effects that we could establish other than what we dub the 'Mako shine' in the eyes. Though it is like I suggested that Sephiroth reacts particularly well to Mako, I think that we should soon be able to establish a proper formula that would work on normal human specimens. We should be ready within a month to start such experiments – with your permission of course."
President Shinra leans back in his chair with a satisfied smirk on his face. "Your work for this company has been very promising, professor Hojo." The professor comes to attention at this. "I expect much from you in these coming months. You have my permission to start experimenting for the SOLDIER program as soon as your formula is complete. If you do well I might just make you head of the Shinra Science research department instead of Professor Hollander. The current temporary replacement for Professor Gast has proven herself quite incompetent."
A smile graces the face of Professor Hojo. "You are dismissed. I expect you to get to work immediately." He waves a hand towards the door and Hojo hurriedly thanks the President and ushers Sephiroth out through the door.
./.
[ μ ] – εуλ 1983 (January)
Under the stark white lights of the lab, Sephiroth watches Professor Hojo. His face is emaciated, his clothes hang too large on his body, his skin is pale and dry and his hair is matted and greasy. He has changed so much. He looks like a different man. He's been working hard ever since he came to Midgar.
Not many people like Professor Hojo here. Not many people liked him before either. In fact, the only one that seems to care for him, give him the benefit of the doubt, and go out of the way to protect him when Sephiroth expresses his disdain, is Gast. What irony that the only man who ever defended Professor Hojo is also the one that he dislikes the most.
Sephiroth's attention drifts over to a glass of water - one of the assistants brought it for the boy. On a whim, he idly slides it over the table towards Professor Hojo. Curiously, Sephiroth watches the mans attention shift to the glass. Slowly, almost disbelievingly, they lift to meet Sephiroth's slit-pupils.
A flicker of emotions passes over Hojo's face. His pupils dilate and his breathing quickens slightly. Experimentally Sephiroth sniffs the air exploring the capabilities of his new enhanced senses. The smell in the air has changed, sharper and heavier. He sifts through his memory. Anxiety? Fear?
With a slight tremble in his hand the Professor nudges his glasses up his noes and returns back to his papers. He ignores the glass of water in spite of his parched lips.
After a moment of thoughtful staring, Sephiroth slips off the chair and walks away.
Does Hojo dislike people who treat him well?
…
Green eye's stare through a glass. It has been emptied of it's contents while Sephiroth was away. Idly he observes the lip prints on it's edge, definitely not those of a child's. Professor Hojo is still hard at work, his lips no longer as parched. He studiously ignores Sephiroth though he seems slightly uncomfortable with the tiny boy's presence beside him.
Sephiroth studies him carefully as he climbs onto a chair and retrieves the empty glass. He slides off the chair and turns away with amusement, revelling in the man's discomfort. What power such a small gesture holds over this man.
A smirk slinks onto Sephiroth's face as he hears Professor Hojo exhale behind him. Who knew showing care to a tormentor would be such fun?
./.
[ μ ] – εуλ 1983 (february)
A current of ice cold heat pierces into him. His soul hums at the sensation's familiarity. His stomach churns and the world spins and tilts around him. He gathers his awareness into his consciousness, watching detachedly at the world warping.
Every now and then he snatches something from the foreign lifestream-like substance snaking through his body. Something he recognises as lost echoes from his soul - a feeling, an emotion or a fragmented idea. Sometimes it's almost enough to form a blurry image or a word, tantalising him with promise of answers, but never delivering.
It is tormenting, painful and nauseating, but he doesn't mind it too much. It takes his attention away from the tedious nature of his company.
./.
[ μ ] – εуλ 1983 (June)
Sephiroth stares at a pastry. An almost round shape with it's bottom part encased in some kind of paper. On top is a carefully sculpted white… blob of toothpaste?
It is a gift from Professor Hojo. One that he shoved into Sephiroth's hands before hurrying off to continue his work, muttering a short "Happy third birthday." The smell is slightly reminiscent of the Carrot cake he ate with Professor Gast, but mostly of something else.
He takes a small bite and chews tentatively. It is cold and tastes very different. It's much sweeter and has a hint of something unfamiliar; mellow and bitter. The white thing just tastes sweet. He takes another bigger bite. His eyes widen as something cold and slimy enters his mouth. Some kind of cream fills the centre. It has an odd yellowy tinge to it dotted with tiny black specks. It too, is sweet though that mellow bitter taste is much stronger.
He looks up, there is no one in the room only stacks of papers and glowing monitors. The walls are whitewashed and stark from the neon lights. There are no windows. He is alone.
Sephiroth shuffles over to the nearest bin and tosses the half-eaten cake in. He doesn't mind the taste, but he doesn't want it.
He stares a moment into the wastepaper bin. Reaching down, he carefully picks out a small card board box. Applying his knew reading skills he enunciates the big print scrawled over the box. "Love-less De-li-ca-cy".
Loveless, it sends a shock through his soul. He can almost hear someone speaking. A man, he thinks, but then it's gone. He keeps soul-searching for a moment longer, but when there's nothing more to be had, he returns to his investigation.
He squints at a small handwritten label "Van-ill-a cr-eam muff-in". No tugs from his soul.
Curiosity satisfied, Sephiroth reunites the cardboard-box with its previous contents in the wastepaper bin and walks of in search of a window.
…
The clouds in Midgar are different. They cover the sky in a perpetual grey dome. At night they glow a pale green-blue from the Mako Reactors. They are achingly familiar to his soul, but not in the right way. They are not his Cloud.
The clearing of a throat sounds behind him. Disinterestedly, Sephiroth turns around and sees a janitor watching him. He has seen this particular one before, but like most people whom his soul doesn't recognize, he has ignored him.
The Janitor beckons to the toddler. This is different.
Curiously Sephiroth walks over to him giving the man a second look. He is old, his hair is thin and sparse on his head and his fair skin looks wrinkly and somehow worn out.
Without a word the man turns and walks away; pulling his cart along with him. Sephiroth follows.
The man stops a floor down along a branching and poorly lit corridor. He opens an inconspicuous door with a 'Private' sign on it. Flicking a switch, he walks into the room leaving the door open.
Curiously Sephiroth follows him into the doorway. It is a tiny room filled mostly up by a cot, a low table and some backpacks stacked upon each other. A single light-bulb dangling from the ceiling lights the room.
Moving to the table, the janitor fishes out some paper cups from one of the backpacks. Sitting down on the cot next to the low table he unscrews the lid of a thermos and pours the steaming liquid into one of the cups. Putting down the thermos he holds it out to the boy.
Enticed, Sephiroth enters the room and takes the cup. A familiar smell reaches his nostrils. Familiar, not to his soul but to him. "Fennel tea." he states, somehow surprised.
The man pours himself a cup of tea and gestures to the cot for Sephiroth to sit. He speaks for the first time in a strange melodic accent. "Sorry. No carrot cake." Sephiroth sits next to the janitor sipping the aromatic drink. The man pays him no mind while he savours his tea.
Restless and dissatisfied: that was what he had been all day. Yet those emotions are now absent and he feels inexplicably content. 'They are meant to be appreciated together in friendly company. All who share the meal become equals in their enjoyment.' Gast's words comes to him again in this moment as janitor and something more than a child sit together.
During the blessed time it took to drink a cup of tea; they sat in silent appreciation.
…
"Why do this?" Why does this man go out of his way to drink tea with a stranger? Not for work and not for friendship. Why does he care? Sephiroth doesn't know.
The janitor sets down his cup on the table calmly. He does not look at Sephiroth when he speaks. "Heard it was your birthday. Saw you alone." He stands up and moves toward the door. Sephiroth hears the last words as he grabs his cart and walks off. "No child should celebrate this day alone."
Author's notes:
Lot's of thanks goes to Samantha Vi Tenebris who's suggestion to bring in an OC with a more important role led me to putting more work in creating some. The first one has already made his appearance. These OCs will have minor roles, but will have an effect on Sephiroth.
I've gotten a lot more respect for janitors since I read 'The little guy', lot's of thanks to the author for pointing out the story telling potential of this job. 'The time it took to drink a cup of tee' is a little private joke to myself that refers to certain translated web novels. I think it's a Chinese measurement of time for about 10 to 15 minutes. Only in these stories they use it in almost any context. The time to end a battle, the time to go from one place to another, the time to find the toilet…
Next chapter: Letters from Gast and meeting Veld.