Chapter 6: Hope for a Better Life
"Happy Birthday, Sephiroth!" The four-year-old stares unimpressed up at the wide, but distinctly fake smile adorning Palmer's face. He is one of many executives that have come this evening to proclaim the same thing.
With the patience of a god, he endures these repetitive, mind-numbingly boring 'pleasantries', as Professor Hojo calls them. What a misleading name, there is nothing pleasant about overly dressed people, with overly noxious perfumes, expressing overly exaggerated and utterly insincere wishes for his wellbeing.
Sephiroth's dull visage successfully spurns Palmer from attempting any more 'pleasantries' with the child. Instead he turns to the adult beside him. "Congratulations professor Hojo on your promotion to head of the Science Research Department"
Professor Hojo turns away from another insincere well-wisher and smiles, if rather stiffly, at Palmer. "Thank you, and I look forward to working alongside you, Palmer, head of the World Exploration Program."
Palmer high-pitched laughs trills out in the great-hall, sounding not the least bit genuine to Sephiroth's ears. "As do I professor Hojo. Very much so!"
Another supposedly self-important person comes to greet Sephiroth. Unlike professor Hojo, Sephiroth does not bother to lie through his teeth for their unwanted attention and monotonous greetings. None of them are worth enough of his concern or consideration for him to care about their foolish and shallow games.
His soul oozes boredom in perfect agreement with himself.
Sephiroth glances up at the professor. For once it seems they agree on something; pleasantries are pointless and unpleasant guzzlers of time and effort. His energy is better spent else where.
…
Sephiroth slinks quietly out of the great hall where the celebration is held in the Shinra building. The silence flowing through the corridors his only companion. The hallways he walks are dark and desolate, the shadows only tentatively brushed by faint light slipping through the windows.
The silver-haired child stops to look through the glass stretching from floor to ceiling. It is a rare night outside for the clouds are absent and the sky appears as a dark abyss. Not a single star is visible. The aspiring city's efforts to illuminate the night having mostly resulted in blinding itself to the outside world.
It is late, but that farce of a celebration will continue for a while longer. The bright colours, fancy decorations, pompous music, elaborate word games and never ending supply of delicate foods and drinks does not deceive the child. The people are empty inside. Bloated goldfish with no meat or guts. Sephiroth knows he will find nothing of what he seeks in that crowd.
Instead he wanders without a purpose. His soul whispers warningly in remembrance of loosing its direction. Sephiroth knows, but the awareness of his loss weighs heavier on him this day. Closing his eyes, he lets the emotion wash over him; emotion shared by both of them.
He feels his legs move and evenly paced steps start to echo in the hallway. He knows not where his feet are taking him, but lets his whim guide him. Eyes closed, he uses his other enhanced senses to navigate through the familiar corridors, following unquestioningly. It is what he has done the entirety of his short life. With trusting faith, he follows his whims wherever and whenever they care to express themselves.
…
'Private': a familiar sign on a familiar door down a familiar, poorly lit hallway.
His soul is silent. It is Sephiroth who made his way here on this night. This door will not help him fulfil his purpose, nor has it any connection to it. But on this night he finds himself alone, his soul silent and an itching emptiness growing within his bones.
A small pale knuckle lifts itself from the boy's side to nock. A few moments later, Sephiroth hears a rustle from within. A stumbling thud against the door, followed by fumbling. The door swings open and an old man dressed in a long white shirt and floppy hat stumbles out, one foot in the hallway. He squints groggily down the corridor for a long while then looks down at Sephiroth.
The boy examines the man in his unfamiliar attire. The night-clothes do not reveal much of him, not unlike his janitor's uniform. It hangs unflatteringly limp on his form. Bare hairy calves and slippered feet reveal themselves underneath. Calves that are much thicker than what the young boy is used to associating with old men.
Curiosity peeked, Sephiroth places his fingers on the mans shin, just below the knee and the hem of the shirt. A child's soft fingers trace lightly over old dry skin as they slide up and over the knee, hiking up the white fabric as the boy curiously explores the outline of the thigh in the dim light.
With a jolt the old janitor retreats back into his tiny room his hands fumbling to bring down the shirt. A different smell reaches Sephiroth's noes, the man's scent changing. Idly he tries to identify it as he observes the silhouette in the darkened room fumbling in search of something. Surprise and… embarrassment?
A flicker of a memory flashes before him. Small hands holding onto brown pants of a wide eyed, flushed lab assistant looking down at him. The man reaching hastily for the hem of his trousers that have slipped below his hips. Sephiroth blinks. Though the face is somewhat familiar, but his soul doesn't stir at the sight of him. The mans reaction is similar to the janitors though. Surprise, bewilderment and embarrassment.
Sephiroth dismisses the memory and returns his full attention to the old man who by now has pulled on his janitor's trousers. He sits slumped on his cot tiredly rubbing at one eye. He eyes Sephiroth with the other, not seeming to know what to make of the boy's unorthodox behaviour.
"You have strong legs, but you are old." The child says finally, trying to make sense of the strange association.
The man stills, then relaxes with a sigh, his smell returning to it's usual state. "I have worked hard all my life. Still do. Most people don't have cushy lives like the people in Shinra." He replies in a horse voice his accent even thicker than usual.
So this man is different from the people he knows. Or rather the people that Sephiroth knows are different from people like this man. The boy accepts this answer and quickly looses interest in the topic.
Silence falls between them with the old man sitting on the rumpled sheets of his cot in his darkened room yawning, and Sephiroth still standing in the dim hallway.
"Why come here? They celebrate your day in the great hall." The man tentatively asks while looking slightly dazedly down at his cot.
"None of them are there for me, it is for professor Hojo." The boy answers matter-of-factly, no emotion colouring his voice. "They are all boring to be with."
The man says nothing in response. After a while he turns stiffly to neatly straighten the covers on his cot. He jerkily pulls off his night-hat, folding it and laying it on his pillow.
Without a word he rummages in one of his backpacks then stumbles out of his room, closing the door. With another hand-covered yawn he shuffles his way down the hall. Sephiroth trails close behind once again not knowing where they are off to, but trustingly curious all the same.
…
Sephiroth recognizes the cafeteria, but the janitor continues straight through it to a discrete side door. It turns out their destination is the cafeteria kitchen.
The old man turns a switch and the lights flicker on unevenly in even lines along the big kitchen. Curiously the boy prowls the unfamiliar room while the older man busies himself with fishing out various equipment and ingredients.
Perhaps he would have been indifferent towards the common chores of humans, unrelated as they are to him. But Gast's mention of domestic tasks made him realize his own ignorance. He may not care, but he will not be ignorant.
It is an odd racket that call back the child's attention and Sephiroth wanders over to where the old man has busied himself at one of the high counter-tops and stares inquisitively up at him. The old man glances down at the boy then points at a tall stool tucked under a nearby table. Without a word Sephiroth fetches it.
Standing on the stool, Sephiroth finds the janitor is quickly grating a carrot; it's length swiftly shortening. The older man stops and glances again at Sephiroth thoughtfully. He offers him the grater and remaining half of the carrot. "Watch your fingers." That is the only instruction he gives. After silently supervising the boy for the first tentative strokes he turns his attention to another task, pulling out a bag of flour and measuring it out.
Grating carrots turns out to be surprisingly difficult, requiring a dexterity Sephiroth is not used to using on a cold root. His soul is silent, evidently as unfamiliar as he is with the task. Finally, he is done. Lifting the grater, he looks at the result of his hard work; a modest pile of grated carrot. A sense of satisfaction fills the boy. He is promptly handed a second one, this one whole. After a short moment of staring down the orange root Sephiroth sighs and resums his work.
…
Some minutes later find Sephiroth squinting at a small tin mold through a badly stained oven window.
The janitor moves away to a sink and starts washing the utensils. Sephiroth eventually walks over to investigate the new activity. The old man stops the water and hands him a large bowl and a tee-towel. Sephiroth receives them, contemplating the unspoken instructions, then goes about drying off the water. Again the movements are unfamiliar both to himself and his soul, proving more challenging than he first thought. Done with the washing the old janitor joins the boy in his drying duty.
Finishes his task Sephiroth idly watches the man drying the last beater, when a familiar sent calls away the boy's attention. His pupils constrict and his head whips around towards the oven. In realization Sephiroth pads over to peer through the window. "Carrot cake." He says in appreciation. He hadn't made the connection, hadn't realized what they were making.
The old man joins Sephiroth, squatting beside him. "My wife, son and I used to make this on our birthdays." He says softly, then continues after a pause. "It's been a long time since I made it."
A sent from the man distinguishes itself becoming denser and the boy examines him carefully, trying to identify it. Contracted pupils in the faded blue eyes and subtly drawn out facial features among the wrinkles. Sorrow, that is what he senses.
Sephiroth returns to quietly squint into the oven.
They continue to watch their small cake grow and turn a darker brown. The smell of sadness gradually fading as the odour of their joint endeavour grows stronger.
After a while the old man stands up stiffly and goes about heating some water, leaving Sephiroth to watch over their work.
…
In a warmly lit, lavish room people dance in elaborately tailored clothes. The great hall filled with music, the sound of chatter and laughter. Guests gorge themselves on delicate food made by artisans and served with gold embellished porcelain and fine silver ware. All of it in supposed celebration of a certain silver haired boy.
Unnoticed by all of the pompous guests, said birthday boy snuck away some time during the night. Many floors below the great hall he sits, still wearing his delicately tailored costume, on a cold countertop in a desolate and coldly lit industrial kitchen. Besides him leans an old man against the countertop, wearing a worn white nightshirt over a janitor's uniform pants and well used slippers.
The man who was sleepily pulled out of his closet by the boy is little more than a stranger, at most a neutral acquaintance. They sit unspeaking with a cup of fennel tea in one hand and half of a small cake in the other. In quiet mutual appreciation of their modest – just enough for two – home made cake and un-presuming tea, they celebrate together. The only sound coming from quiet sipping and the hum and flicker of the cold kitchen lights.
For the first time this night the boy is content. The cloying itch of emptiness that had grown within him finally appeased.
./.
Sephiroth turns the folded paper letter in his hands. He doesn't need to open it to know who it is from. No one else sends him letters. The boy glances up at the blue suited man who gave it to him and gives a knowing smile, tucking it away in his pocket. "Professor Hojo hasn't read this." He might have smelled it otherwise.
"He has not read it." Veld confirms stonily.
Satisfied, Sephiroth starts to turn away to find a quiet spot to read his letter when he notices a change in scent. Turning back, he looks at the Turk suspiciously. "You are not lying?"
"Professor Hojo has not read the letter." Veld repeats himself. Sephiroth tastes the air carefully while eying the adult. The smell is still there. But because it is just his second interaction with the man he cannot yet pinpoint the associated emotions.
He recalls other Turks having a similar smell when he tried to question them. One of them in particular, left a strong impression on him.
"Veld." The man blinks in acknowledgment. "There was a Turk who tried to kick me." The boy starts of by explaining, not quite knowing where he wants to go with it.
Veld stiffens. "I apologise; I will report this to my superior. Please tell me when this happened and the Turks appearance."
Sephiroth is surprised by his reaction. This is not what he is going for. "No, there is no need. It happened when I was looking for you the last time we met. It was…" he hesitates looking for the word to express himself. "It was fun."
Such a foreign word. The games the lab assistants put him through have almost always been a bore. The exception to the rules only capable of keeping his interest for a short while.
The thrill and excitement he felt when that man attacked him, however... Nothing could compare to the exuberance he felt at the time.
Something wells up inside him at the thought, flighty like leaves yet heavy as rain. "I want… More." The last word is spoken with emphasis, his soul shivering in anticipation.
Veld doesn't respond for a long while. "You want to learn how to fight?" He asks finally.
Sephiroth eyes light up his pupils constricting. A swell of thrilling excitement passes through his soul. "Yes, fight!" The words slip out in a forceful hiss, almost a snarl even with his young voice and a feral grin spreads over his face.
Veld is taken aback and disconcerted by Sephiroth's intensity, but recovers quickly. "I shall convey your desires to my superior and discuss this with professor Hojo. Good day to you."
Quickly he strides away, trying not to think about the hungry gaze he finds so misplaced on a child. His disquieted thoughts whisper to him as the Turk's nickname for the boy comes to mind. Perhaps even on a human?
"I'll come back tonight to retrieve your letter." Veld calls over his shoulder. Sephiroth watches him go without replying, his soul still doesn't recognize this man's behaviour. The boy's eyes fall back to the folded paper in his hand and a smile of anticipation graces his lips.
Dear Sephiroth
Happy birthday! Though it may have passed by the time this letter arrives, I hope it finds you well. It's been two years since I last saw you in person. I would say that time flies, but I feel that I have done more in these two than I have done for the past ten in Shinra!
I'm glad you are enjoying your lessons and it pleases me that you have such a strong desire to learn. I have learned much myself since I last wrote to you! I feel young again, this traveling and search for knowledge and wisdom is what my passion truly is.
You asked me to tell you more about those energy channels. I will do my best, however I myself have had difficulty understanding this concept and can only tell you what I myself have been able to make sense of.
The Channels themselves are called meridians. These meridians are connected to the physical body through so called acupuncture points. Supposedly these points have an integral connection with the body to the extent that applying pressure may either heal or disable the body part or organ it is related to. For this reason, the practice of acupuncture is used in medicine.
Through the meridians runs a sort of vital energy called chakra. Interestingly enough they also claim that chakra is used to fuel materia usage, which is what we would call Mana.
My journey has been eventful. Cosmo Canyon was not entirely what I had expected and has broadened my mind greatly. I met with the old scientist I told you about. The knowledge he shared with me on the planet and the Lifestream astounded me! Though his sources were rather unorthodox, I have been looking into them.
He was a peculiar looking man, of small stature with a long, straight beard and wearing robes similar to the masters of the arts that I observed in Wutai. He floats around on a green orb which contains some combination of linked Materia that he channels Mana to. Apparently he needs it because he can no longer walk due to is age. It turns out he is over 110 years old!
I have learned that there used to be another humanoid species that lived in the area. But it was unfortunately wiped out after going to war with the guardians of Cosmo Canyon, a species that is almost extinct now. I saw the surviving members of this tribe and at first I thought they were monsters tamed by the inhabitants! They looked like red Kalm Fangs but more powerful and flexible without the distinctive mane and a flaming tails. Imagine my surprise when they spoke to me! Apparently their species is highly intelligent and long lived. I had never heard of them before. It is sad that they are endangered though. I truly hope they will survive in future years. It would be such a loss if they went extinct like the Cetra did.
An old friend of mine once advised me to go to Cosmo Canyon, long ago. I now wish I had heeded his advice and gone when I was younger. If I had known some of the things I have learned here… And both that tribe and Guardians would have still been around back then, but alas I was proud. Now that tribe is gone and only two children remain of a noble species.
After Cosmo Canyon I passed through a jungled area and came across a bustling village where Shinra has built one of its Mako reactors. It seems the Jungle is teeming with life and the monsters living in it are quite peculiar. Though most are not very dangerous they can inflict quite particular status ailments. Most notably, stop, slow and frog. Yes, frog. There's a local monster that can turn people into frogs. I even saw it happening to one of my escorts. One of the local biologists I visited in the jungle is fascinated by them and tends to go out of his way to be turned into one in attempts to get a deeper understanding of these creatures. I wish him the best of luck in his endeavour.
I have just arrived in Corel. Though I hear that Shinra is encouraging the residents to let them build another Mako reactor it is a coalmining town and they hold strongly to their ways. I remember the days when Coral coal was widely used. Now only the villages around Mount Coral and Coral itself use it. Perhaps it's just as well. I suspect the mine is starting to become depleted. It's also quite dirty, turning the houses and surrounding plant life around it black from it's smoke. I remember the research results that Shinra financed on the health effects of coal, most notably causing quite serious problems with the lungs, and heart, as well as damaging the eyes if in close proximity to it's smoke. I'm sure you can learn more about it if you ask someone over there.
I'll be heading toward Costa Del Sol and taking a boat from there to Junon. Send your next letter there.
Yours truly
Gast Faremis
This letter from Gast is marvellously long and Sephiroth is happy for it. He reads the letter over once as usual, simply for pure enjoyment. His eyes widening in particular at someone being over 110 years old, though his soul corroborates the notion. Which it also does at being transformed into a frog.
Meridian channels, chakra energy and the connecting acupuncture points are new terms to Sephiroth and his Soul. Conversely the thought of Materia and Mana are intimately familiar, as if it were a fact of life. He recalls hearing those terms, often in conjunction with the term magic, though he had never cared to find out about them. He knew what magic was; a power to rend the earth, to set it aflame, to flood it with water and bring lighting down upon it. From the moment Gast had first told him about it his Soul had acknowledged its power, yet in his young life, Sephiroth had never seen it performed.
How do these concepts translate to his own experiences? Chakra and mana, Vital energy that flowed in meridians where his soul seems to dwell and apparently a fuel for materia. To the silver-haired child there is only the soul that dwells in these channels. However, never having seen Materia in use, Sephiroth reserves continued enquiry for another time.
He wonders about the acupuncture points. From Gast's description they seem to be located on the physical body. The memory of a too flexible neck under his fingers and the warm blood on Gast's cheek comes to him. Back then he had instinctively known where to look for entrance into the channels. Perhaps they are the physical counter parts to the seals that separated the soul from the Lifestream? Though twisted, the spiritual realm could often reflect the physical one. Or at least a parody of it. Or perhaps it is the other way round. Realising his diverging thoughts, the boy returns his attention back to the contents of the letter.
110 years seems enormous to Sephiroth, he is only a little older than 4 years after all. But his soul shrugs it off as if it is nothing, as if it is older. When the sense of great experience floods into him through his connection he accepts the concept easily and his thought's stray to the next subject of his interest. Namely the strange talking beast with its flaming tail.
His soul stirs at the description. But unlike before it is not the usual indifferent familiarity, but a trembling, light tug.
A clue, an important clue.
Sephiroth drops all of his activity and goes in search of more information on these guardians of Cosmo Canyon.
…
It turns out no one he could find knows anything about these creatures, though Professor Hojo expressed an interest in them. Instead, Sephiroth decides to resort to another more indirect method. Grabbing a packet of colour pencils someone had given him but he had never used and a sheet of paper, he walks of to the Shinra library.
Flipping through the pages of a heavy bestiary he quickly finds the section on Kalm Fangs. A fairly weak but tenacious quadruped living in the wastelands around Midgar.
A red Kalm Fang, but larger and more flexible with a burning tail and without the distinctive mane. That is how Gast had described them.
To Sephiroth's surprise drawing turns out to be a lot harder than he thought it would be, much like grating carrots and drying kitchen utensils, requiring a dexterity that he is not used to using. But in the end he manages to draw a recognisable semblance of a red Calm fang leaving the neck area vague and undefined.
He examines the picture; the tug from his soul is much stronger though faltering. Placing the tip of the pencil on the paper he clears his mind trying to grasp onto the fragments shared through his connection. Slowly he traces the outline of his picture creating a short neck and powerful bust.
Again Sephiroth looks at the picture. His soul hums quietly in his mind.
There is still something wrong. Though Gast said they did not have manes the neck looks too naked. With eyes fixed on the picture the boy drops his red pencil and moves to pick up another, sketching out a brown zigzag along the back of it's neck.
Sephiroth is not entirely satisfied with the results but realizes that the features are distinctly similar to the creature his soul remembers. While filling in the mane, he decides to send it to Gast in his letter and ask about its resemblance.
Author's notes:
I keep forgetting to mention this so I'll say it now. I am happy to see that there are so many who like this story enough to come back and read it after each update as well as alert and favourite it. I am aware that there's quite a way to go before things really start happening and Sephiroth start meeting more familiar faces. Hopefully you'll enjoy the next years of Sephiroth's life and I can promise there will be some excitement in Sephiroth's childhood.
I realize it is easier for me to keep the quality of the chapters if they are shorter, so it is unlikely there'll be a chapter as long as the last one.
Next chapter: Insight into the Professor behaviour.