Chapter Fifty-One: The Beginning

"She can't do that," Genesis said. "You crippled her."

"She just did," Angeal whispered. "Is it possible…?"

"No," Sephiroth said, pale as bone. "I saw the wound myself. She will never stand, never walk—"

But across the world, as if in response to her husband's challenge, Hana slowly put one foot forward and slowly, with a wise and sad smile on her face, walked to greet the man bearing the crown.

"How-?"

Sephiroth pulled a milky white materia from his pocket, staring at it intently. "Is it possible?" he asked himself in a whisper.

"What is that?" Genesis asked.

"I tried to heal her," Sephiroth said, and the lump in his throat was visible. "…I failed."

"Are you sure?" Angeal asked.

Sephiroth kept the materia cupped in one palm but raised his eyes to the screen.

She was walking. She had already descended from the dais and to everyone's astonishment, met the crown bearer in the middle of the aisle.

The commentators were going wild, speaking in tones hushed in reverence for the moment but rapid with confusion. No one needed to be told that this was a breach of protocol. The guards around her palanquin were armed and made to follow immediately, but Hana stilled them with a hand and a single word. She stood alone amid the throng, unguarded, but never stronger. When she was face to face with the courier holding her crown of phoenix wings, she smiled, and spoke in clear Continental.

The commentators, at least, were speechless, as were the three SOLDIERS watching the proceedings from half a world away. Behind her, the translators regained themselves enough to start quietly translating her words into her mother tongue, their whispers echoes of the oath of their empress.

"I, Yukihana Kazehawa, with the gods of Wutai and the Continent as my witnesses, take the throne of Wutai with an oath to rebuild this nation, to preserve our heritage and unite my people after the most divisive war our country has ever known. We have surrendered, but we are not fallen.

"As the Phoenix of Wutai, I will rebuild this nation from the ashes as I, myself, have arisen reborn from the fires of this bloody war. I vow to be the servant of Wutai for as long as she may need me. To her I pledge all the strength of my body and mind and will.

"But as of my heart…."

And then she closed her eyes, and the world waited. The power flowing around her, while not lessening in intensity, began to change. Her face softened, her eyes sad, but on her lips was the smallest smile.

"I cannot pledge my heart, for I have already sworn it to another."

Sephiroth choked.

Hana raised her eyes to look directly into the camera. "Fate is cruel, but it is as I have said," she said to her husband before the world. "We have surrendered, but we have not fallen. And I will fight for what remains until the end of time.

"I will never give up on you, Sephiroth."

This vow hung as heavy as any of her others, and all were solemn in their wake.

It was more than power that made her radiant this day, it was love, raw and naked in its purest form, blossomed at long last.

"No one will crown me," she said to the throne bearer, voice not loud but filling the room. "I take this throne for myself."

And with that, Hana took the crown and placed it on her own head.

It was done. She was announced as empress and the world applauded as she took upon herself the three emblems of the kingdom – a sword, a ring, and a seal.

Angeal turned off the TV before the commentary could follow.

"She gave her vows in Continental," Angeal said. "Everyone will think that's a sign that they really have fallen to ShinRa. She's just undermined her own vows."

"Don't be dense, Angeal. She could care less about ShinRa or the rest of the world. She did it for you," Genesis said, looking to Sephiroth who did not tear his eyes away from the blank TV screen. "She spoke in Continental so you could hear her oath from her own lips."

"I know," he said.

"She is sworn to Wutai," Angeal said softly. "And you to ShinRa."

"I know," Sephiroth said again.

"I can't help but think that this is unwise," Angeal said. "This is about more than just the two of you now. This involves nations – the world."

"I know, and so does she," Sephiroth turned from the TV to face his friends. "Both of us have surrendered to our own fates, she said it herself. As to whether or not we have fallen…." Sephiroth paused, thoughtful. "I will leave that to her judgment for the time being. She would know better than I."

"You're not giving up either," Genesis said. "Why?"

Sephiroth smiled. He did not need to affirm his commitment or answer the question. "Come on, there is work to be done. The fight is just beginning."


Vance had really hoped that he would not have to go this far.

It was Sephiroth's fault, he asserted to himself as he whisked under cloak through the slums of Midgar. He had given him the chance to return his sister, and then he had arranged a convenient way for him to walk away from her. It had taken him months to dredge up that information about Jenova, only to have it stolen from him by his father once it was compiled. The thought still made his blood burn. Had that information remained in his hands, he knew he could have made the General pliant instead of going berserk.

He didn't know whether his father or Sephiroth was more at fault for his sister's wound.

The stunt at the coronation didn't fool him. He didn't have a true explanation for how she had walked, but he had an inkling of what had given her the strength in that moment, and it would be temporary. When she sat on her throne she would not be able to rise again.

Not without his help.

He glided through the slums like a shadow, winter's air following in his wake. People kept a wide berth, he noticed with a smirk. Rumors of his army and their intentions had permeated the underbelly of Midgar as much as the rank and the filth. He was the slums now, and he would be ignored and reviled as such until he made his move.

The thought sent a thrill of adrenaline through him.

ShinRa would pay. They would all pay. But none so much as the beloved Silver General.

He did not slow his advance in reverence of the place he approached. The building of stone, somehow untouched by the decay of the slums, was not sacred to him. He cared nothing for the workmanship or meaning of the church, only that inside was housed the key to bringing the General to his knees.

He threw open the wooden doors and cocked his gun. "Come quietly," he commanded. "And I will assure you your life…for a while, at least."

The lone resident, a brunette young woman in a white dress tending to a small crop of flowers, looked up in shock to see the face of her captor.


Milda waited in the lobby while the women around her scuffled about in alarm. Her news was urgent, but she was immune to the anxiety that filled this place.

"Are you sure about this?" Ria asked again, wringing her hands. "I-If what you say is true, and General Sephiroth really is in such danger—"

"It is true," Milda said.

Ria gulped, face pale. "—Then what can we really do?"

It was a valid question. Ria's family was wealthy, certainly, as were many other of the girls' relatives, but few had any ties to ShinRa's elite, or any strong enough to halt the tidal wave that was coming at any rate. They met in Ria's home, a large vacation home at the edge of the plate. While food and fashion and unquestionable devotion were in excess, military might and political power were sadly lacking.

"You are the only ones that can help," Milda said. "Sephiroth needs you all."

The girl's eyes were wider than the tea saucers. "Yes!" she chirped breathlessly. She straightened as if at attention. "Everything the Silver Elite has will be devoted to protecting him!" Ria scurried off and worked to rally the other panicking girls, her own anxiety as they mobilized an offensive only barely in check.

Milda smiled at her fervor. It wasn't the usual way to fight a war, she was aware, but there were some who said that the pen was mightier than the sword, and loyalty was worth a thousand soldiers.

She could no longer write for a journal run by ShinRa; the message would never get out. But with a flood of fans storming the city, using all their influence to pull every strong they could, they could expose what was happening within ShinRa and put a stop to it.

She set down her tea on the marble table and picked up her photos again. She leafed through the pictures she had captured of the General over the years in secrecy, thinking deeply about all he meant to her. More than sparing her life, twice, he had given her a family and a chance to pursue her dreams, things he never had himself. All she had ever had was because of him, and she owed him far more than her life.

She would work as long as she lived to repay her debt as best she could, knowing it could never be even close to reconciled in full.

A recent picture caught her eye and she sobered, running a single finger over the wing sprouting from the General's shoulder. She had been angry at first that ShinRa would do such a thing to him. More than the pain of its insertion, it had made him something less than human, something unnatural, something that had changed him forever.

But despite the trauma, all the blood and agony, she had learned that it was beautiful.

She smiled at the sight of the raven plumage against the silver of the General's long hair. A black mark on the immaculate General? No. It was something more. Something that made him more than human, that enabled rather than crippled, freed instead of confined.

Something very like the ebony haired woman who stood beside him even when she was a world away.

Black on silver, she thought to herself with the first genuine smile she had allowed in a long time. Who would have thought it would be so right?


End of "Black on Silver"

To Be Continued in Book 2


A/N: Surprise! It's finished! Actually, it's only just starting, but this book is finished.

This is a good place for me to break because we already had a climax. I feel like there needs to be some space and emotional separation before the plot can continue. But don't worry, there is plenty more to come!

I will take this opportunity to comment on the title of this book, in case it wasn't clear enough in the ending segment.

I always tried to draw parallels between Hana and Sephiroth's wing. Both were acquired in less than desirable circumstances, and both were life-altering events. In both cases there was a degree of denial about the effect it would have on their lives - Hana and Sephiroth keeping polite and marked distance in their marriage, and Sephiroth continuing on like nothing had happened after he gets his wing. Overall, he pays very little attention to his wing, and it was always Hana who brings it back into the conversation, the same as she did with their relationship while Sephiroth repeatedly remained aloof. And of course, cheesy as it is, in the end, it is Hana who has freed him, and turned his wing into something as beautiful and liberating as the power of flight, just as she has turned their marriage in name only into a real romance.

The original idea for this title came from a mental image of Sephiroth's hair entwined with hers, and the idea of her being a "black mark" on him that he never desired, just as his wing was. Yeah, using his hair is cliche, but it's honestly his trademark, and the idea of entwined hair implies real intimacy as opposed to the farce of a marriage they entertained for so long.

I hope to cement the symbolism a bit more as I continue to revise.

I hope you enjoyed the story and I appreciate your support. At the end of the story, I would love to hear any further suggestions. I have already started revising the earlier chapters and more will come until this whole work has been renovated.

The next book will be posted and the story will continue after I undergo another major move - this time across the world.

Thank you. I would not be a writer without my readers.

-Flutist Girl