Unspoken

Unspoken

By mihoyonagi

Author's Note: This chapter is meant to be the diary that Sephiroth has kept for most of the story. I make several mentions of it, mostly in the later chapters, but it originates from one of the early chapters whereupon Sephiroth is disappointed to find an interesting-looking book completely blank. Simply felt I should clear everything up, just in case.

Chapter 44: Diary

January 23rd

I think, perhaps, I should start from beginning. I fear, however, that would be much too time consuming, so instead, to leave the past buried as it should be, I will only begin where it is necessary. Nowhere in this book shall I insert my name, for if someone from my past were to find it they would not, I am positive, believe whom it was writing. First thing, however, is first.

I am a walking impossibility, yet I lack a voice in which to tell my story with.

But because of the kindness and the selflessness of a certain flower girl clad in pink, I have returned. A promise was made, and I am never to return to the man I once was, or so shall I be smitten from this earth once more (though not at the end of the Buster sword this time).

It is, conversely, my wish to remain alive, so I shall keep my promise.

Upon my lap has been thrust both a burden and a gift. I am to protect the flower girl whom gave up her birthright of paradise to save me from the fiery pits of hell. It was not a wish, or a demand, or even a suggestion; I am protecting her, whether she knows it or not, because she is the only thing on the face of the earth to show me compassion. There is, of course, the underlying fact that if she dies, so do I, but that doesn't make me selfish. At least, I don't think it does. She keeps me company, and eases my wariness of the world, and so in her company I shall stay. She seems to enjoy my companionship, or at least I suspect so. There is no telling with this one.

Unfamiliar as these emotions are to a man like me, I cannot help but wonder what is to come of this peaceful life we have shared these past few weeks. Under the care and practical order of the kind doctor that save both of our lives, we were lent a cabin to stay in. The villagers here seem not to know who I am, and they have all taken a fond liking to the flower girl. It somehow makes me feel more at ease to know that she is happy with me in her company, despite the sins I have committed.

Every night before bed, she tells me that she forgives me, but these words have never been spoken to me before, and every night I am unable to react to what she says. One cannot begin to fathom how confused I am.

She should hate me, but she smiles at me like I've done nothing wrong.

Cake is another matter in which I do wish to speak of, though I fear letting my weakness for the sugary treat escape. The flower girl makes the best cake I have tasted thus far, but considering I've only had hers, as well as some from the bakery, I do not know how long that statement will remain truthful.

She has me, much to my own dismay as well as delight, doing chores to keep me busy. Between the walk we have in the morning through the forest together, and the regimented chores we each perform in the afternoon, I am, in the very least, content. Idle hands are the devil's workshop, or so I heard the florist in town say. I know much of the subject of the devil, though my devil isn't a pitch-fork-carrying red demon, but rather a monstrous conscious weighed down with the sins of a thousand men but with one sword. But I don't much like the florist, either; the way he looks at the flower girl makes me very uncomfortable, though I am unable to completely rationalize my thoughts as to why. I think, perhaps, it is because he only looks to her face when she is looking at him. The moment her eyes are turned, his eyes wander her body. I'd state the obvious fact, that humans are disgusting, but I now am one of them and mustn't generalize the population based on the actions of one man. After all, the flower girl is only half Cetra. I believe her human side is, perhaps, her kind side. The Cetra half of her is full of fire and the will to keep going.

Or at least that's what I think. I've never before stopped to think about things like this, so those reading this, if I ever deem this permissible for the eyes of others, I ask your forgiveness. Everything has been new for me lately.

I don't know what to do, so for now I shall simply remain in her company.

February 7th

She makes my insides stir with something I cannot name any more than I want to. I know not whether the feelings inside are good or bad, thus I refuse to act on them. Knowing not what to do is not a feeling I enjoy.

Today was her birthday.

I have never purchased a gift for someone. I attempted to make it practical, and she seemed to enjoy it when I presented the green hair ribbon to her for she wrapped her arms around me (only after scolding me for making her think I had abandoned her) and thanked me, then proceeded to tell me what she does every night: that she forgave me.

Forgiveness is a concept I still do not understand. I have a feeling, however, that the more I spend in her company the more I will learn. Much to my own dismay, there is far more to life than I ever thought possible. If I were to state the obvious, that life is complicated, it would be a vast understatement, though I am sure those reading this have already figured that much out.

March 15th

I saw him today in the market, the one who stole my life. It was only fair that he did what he did to me before; I, after all, practically ruined his life. Shinra dealt a major hand in that as well, but I cannot push all the blame onto them. When I saw him, I believe I felt panic (I've never know what it is to feel complete panic before, so I am only remotely certain that is what I felt). I picked up the flower girl, threw her over my shoulder, and ran to the cottage as fast as I could.

She seemed elated over the prospect of seeing her old companion again, but I, on the other hand, was anything but. So, in an act that seemed very out of character for her, she forced me upstairs and into hiding.

That boy may have saved the earth from me, but he is as thick as ever. We were all in the same room, and had he bothered to scout everywhere, like I had trained him in Soldier, he would have seen the flower girl and I huddled up behind the door. I am, however, grateful he neglected his training. Go figure- a short attention span is the reason I am alive.

We left the house, thereafter, the flower girl clutching my hand and leading the way through the woods.

I seemed to have broken my ankle when we were running through the woods. My memory is hazy, and all I remember is fear and pain, so I am not sure of its certainty. The girl, knowing half of those on the docks, struck some deal and got us onto a boat that is taking us far from what I had begun to call home. She healed me up, right as rain as the ship men tell me, and would hardly leave my side.

What a silly thing to do. Who would care enough to worry over me? I've survived much worse than broken bones, that much I know. Does she?

As it turns, our home was in Mideel, which explains the warm weather in the middle of February (you know, I hadn't thought of any of that until the flower girl pointed it out to me). We are now on our way to the coast of Midgar. It will be cold, no doubt, in the north. I am not looking forward to it.

March 16th

I hate boats.

March 18th

I still hate boats, and am glad we are off that god-forsaken rusty tub of scrap.

We walked from the coast to Midgar and were lucky enough to arrive in the junk-heap some people call a city before nightfall. It's rather cold, compared to Mideel. I haven't told the flower girl of my unease of the place- many Shinra employees wander the streets, and what would happen if one were to recognize me? Though the flower girl's heart and intentions are pure, I don't think she thought this over very well.

It seems I have fallen in line behind a woman, without knowing it. She was the one who decided to run away from the once-hero, simply for my sake. No plan of action (of that I am sure), she merely took my hand, what little we could afford to carry with us, and ran to the docks. I dread thinking of what would happen had we not been able to catch a ride off of the island.

Trudging through the grasslands, she talked to me about her past and what she remembered about living in Midgar. It is incomprehensible to me that such a gentle, pure thing grew up surrounded by hatred, greed, and filth. They say that you cannot grow flowers in Midgar, but it seems they know not of what they speak, for I have met one.

She knew a comrade of mine, the closest thing to a friend I ever had (aside from her, of course). She dated him, but she won't say much else about the time they spent together. I am unsure as of the reason, but it slightly agitates me. It is, however, none of my business, and thus I pushed it none what-so-ever.

I met two small children, friends of the flower girl before she had left town years ago, when we wandered into a shabby old church the flower girl informed me she liked to spend her time at. The oldest looked sickly, as most children in the slums do, but the youngest was plump, rosy-cheeked even, and too curious for her own good. As mute as I, the girl took my hand (you wouldn't believe how small it felt within mine) and forced upon my head a ring made of flowers.

I felt like the silliest thing to grace the planet when she planted a little kiss on my cheek, yet I wouldn't trade such a feeling for my life.

It is indeed frightening what children can make us feel.

March 25th

I have never felt a more profound mix of emotions as I had last night. Apparently, much to my own great surprise, the flower girl could hear the planet back when we were in Mideel. Now, however, she is unable to -to which I have a theory, but I haven't shared with her- the lifestream had broken through the planet years before, when Weapon attacked, and while Mideel had been rebuilt since that time, traces of the lifestream were still abundant everywhere, giving her a strong connection with the planet- or at least that is what I think.

I kissed her- not as a lover would, but as the child kissed me a few days before- upon her forehead as she wept last night over the loss of her 'friend.'

It was, for lack of a better term, awkward in almost all sense. Confusion assaulted me as she wrapped her tiny arms around me and cried, but there was nothing more I could do that could comfort her until she feel asleep in my arms.

I am at a loss.

April 3rd

We left Midgar this morning and headed for Kalm, which was celebrating the change of the seasons and the destruction of meteor. I acted as a child would, am completely ashamed of myself, and found out that I would much rather watch the reflections of fireworks in the flower girl's eyes than I would real ones.

I am surprised these new feelings in me haven't caused some sort of spontaneous combustion, for at times going down in a flashy ball of fire seems most appealing considering my given circumstances, though I'm not sure what would be done with my boots or my sword after I bit it for they are fire proof.

April 5th

We arrived at the small ranch located near the Mythril Mines. The thunder and lightning was so intense outside that the flower girl and I were forced into asking for lodgings in the chocobo barn. The two children who had been set in charge of the ranch while their guardian was away were, to say the least, friendly.

Chocobos wear shoes, apparently.

I helped the flower girl feed a cube of sugar to one of the birds, and I must say that I've never before noticed how soft her hands are. We talked, or at least communicated as much we could with me lacking a voice, of forgiveness, and she smiled at me as she always seems to do as of late. I find myself growing quite fond of it.

As always, I know not what to make of her.

April 6th

After cooking the children breakfast, we left the ranch and managed to catch a chocobo of our own. Upon crossing the swamp, we were attacked by the Zolom. I tired to direct my companion to the cave ahead of us. The flower girl, who had apparently not understood my directions, jumped off the bird soon after I did. It was, however, just as well for fighting in mud proved to be more difficult than I remember. If not for her quick thinking and strong magic, I would have more than likely lost my life due to the snake's puncture wound to my arm and the profuse amount of venom that quickly caused my body to go numb and my vision to blur.

She, on the other hand, overexerted herself. I was forced to carry her from the swamp to the alcove geographically known as the Mythril Mines. There, I built a small fire to warm her feverish body.

Though I was completely aware of what I was doing, I could not help but give into the urge to run my fingers through her hair while she lay unconscious. There is something there, something alluring and frightening all at once, that I cannot explain. How I wish I had the words to, for I feel that once the feelings are explained rationally I might be rid of them.

We were again forced to hide, however, as her old friend seems to be looking for us yet. Persistent bastard, I'll give him that, albeit a bit dim. I feel a large amount of pity for the poor woman that accompanies him, given the fact that she must put up with him on a constant basis.

Feeling pity now, am I? Great Shiva, next they will say I have gone soft.

In case I forget when I read this over again, that last line was sarcastic, or at least my best attempt at being so. Sarcasm is something I should try picking up, really. My attempt at sarcasm makes the flower girl smile- I rather like it when she smiles.

April 10th

Aerith was kidnapped in Junon. I'm at a loss for words, as well as rational thought, and have nothing of import to state as of yet.

April 11th

I am stuck in a cramped hotel room with a young boy whose sister was kidnapped in the same manner as my companion. We followed the kidnappers to Wutai, where I suspect a slave ring of some dishonorable repute is being held.

So help me Ifrit- if they lay but one hand on her…

April 11th (continued)

Kimonos are not comfortable to wear. I will never request the flower girl to don one. Ask not how I know this; it's too terrible for me to speak of as of now.

Also, I will never look at grapefruits the same way.

Ever.

April 13th

The flower girl is safe, as are the boy and his sister.

I must confess that there is something heavy weighing about my chest- I kissed the flower girl. I know not fully what came over me, but one kiss lead to another and another – and oh Shiva she is wonderful.

And yet, I feel as though I tainted her. Callous, war-stained hands such as mine should not touch something so precious and pure. I pulled back from the kisses she so willingly gave back to me as if they had burned. It felt as though something had flashed across my mind, some remnant of the faded hope of being happy; I am not accustomed to feeling as though I want something, but being unable to know what it is. Perhaps the thought of being happy is but a lost memory for me, and my sub-conscious tried to scare me from falling too deep so I would not be disappointed. After all, any and all of the happiness in my life has only been stolen away.

And yet, I want to reach out and hold her, but I am afraid to…

Safety is my first concern at this point in time, however, and I will be able to sort out my thoughts once we are out of town and safe.

It has been nearly a week since the flower girl last told me she forgave me. I worry.

April 17th

We managed to seek passage on a fishing boat heading to the outskirts of Rocket Town. We will be there by tomorrow or the next day.

My great dislike for boats continues.

April 18th

We made it safely to Rocket Town, but on out way out I was faced with someone I am not accustomed to; a rather upset flower girl. She yelled at me for the first time, and outwardly admitted that she wished to be selfish. Upon our entering Rocket Town, we stumbled upon the information that her pilot-friend had a new-born son.

Here I was, beginning to believe that she was more saintly than those they preach about under the steeples. She is human, as am I.

I think, perhaps, I understand her better now. I think, perhaps, her imperfections are why I seem to care so deeply for her.

But great Shiva almighty, what does one like me know of romance, or the way to a woman's heart?

April 20th

I asked her, with much deliberation beforehand it is to be added, what I meant to her. She, as she often manages, easily turned the question against me. I answered it as truthfully as I could manage.

She means more to me that she sees to know.

Admitting confusion, with a look of fret set across her face, she turned from me and told me that she still needed time to think. Perhaps it is better this way. I would rather she take time and be truthful to herself before she answers any question of mine, especially whose meaning could be taken a great many ways.

I am, as I have so often found myself as of late, a stranger to emotions. I suffered from a bit of an outburst.

My frustration wasn't caused by her words, but, rather, my inept ability to screw things up. I wish I had the courage to tell her how I feel. Even if, by chance, things were to stay the same, I should think that I would feel less the part of a coward for keeping such a deep feeling hidden inside of me.

Until I am able to confide in her the words I wish, I vow to, at the very least, stay by her side and protect her as best I can.

Her own behavior was caused by the want to see her friends again, a feeling I envy and do not blame her for.

I wish there was more I could do than silently vow to stay by her side. I'm the hero of a war for Ramuh's sake, and I can't even tell a woman my true feelings.

In the least, she has reassured me that if I were to leave her side, she would miss me. That is, for now, enough.

I rather think that I've gone soft.

May 8th

There is little I can write with my unsteady hand that would make much sense to any others than I.

I met two of the flower girl's friends, the little ninja girl and the ex-Turk.

Turns out the old Shin-Ra man used to know my mother. In fact, it appears he was very much in love with her.

Long story short, I met my mother two nights ago. Her grave was made of crystal.

I still am uncertain as to what I should feel now. My heart is overflowing with sorrow and anger alike, for she was never there for me when I needed her as most children might remember of their mothers, yet I am somehow filled with a slight sense of comfort knowing the truth of my past. It's not a dignified sense of comfort, let it be known, but more of a slight sense of heavy relief, as if something profound had been removed from its resting place on my chest.

My entire life I had been fed lie upon lie. The truth, quite honestly, hit me like a bucket of cold water, moving near the speed of sound. I was the outcome of a twisted experiment and of unrequited love, not of test-tubes and manually structured DNA.

She was beautiful. It's no wonder the Turk fell so hard for her.

It's a far cry from Jenova, which is something to gain from this I am to assume.

I wept for the first time I can ever recall. I wept for her, and for the past, and I suppose for me as well, two moons ago. Everything is still spinning fresh in my mind.

It still hurts. The truth hurts like hell.

May 13th

We threw a belated birthday part for the flower girl. I bought her a ring, set upon a chain, but I don't quite think she understands the depth of my gift. I know she isn't one for overly superfluous objects, but it felt to me that the ring was the right present to purchase for her. I suppose one could say that I followed my heart.

She wears it around her neck so beautifully. It's fitting, really. A ring has always meant to symbolize the never ending journey: life, if you will. How ironic that I buy her such a gift when our lives are so closely connected. I'm not talking of the life and death sort of circumstance we are in, with out lives being connected to one another by force, but rather of the fact that she and I have seemed to have formed something else: deep friendship, understanding, and trust.

Yet, I worry. Even if she were to know how I truly feel, would I have it in me to always keep her happy?

May 16th

Word hit us that the dim-wit was hot on our tail again, so we left the flower girl's friends and made our way out of town with the promise of returning for a visit sometime soon. I suppose the ninja wishes for another excuse to throw a party again, which I cannot blame her. The festivities from the night before were rather, well, exciting.

I've never been one to attend parties, other than those the old Shin-Ra president commanded I attend. Those parties, however, were full of stuffed shirt, pompous, ignorant old men and the women who flocked to their riches like moogles to Kupo nuts. I always hated parties where a tuxedo was standard dress. I suppose I merely abhor useless people.

The sun is setting now, while the flower girl and I prepare an early supper. We need to travel to Cosmo Canyon before it becomes too dark to travel.

The ex-Turk gave the flower girl a parcel before we left town. I have a terrible feeling regarding it, but I've tried to keep myself closed about the matter. The flower girl seems genuinely curious and excited about it, and I wish not to ruin her mood.

May 18th

I fear she hates me. I truly, deeply, am beginning to believe I've been fed more lies to pacify me. Forgiveness and compassion seem distant.

I feel so numb, as if my world is beginning to freeze.

Inside the package she was given was the truth of her past.

My father killed her father, and he ruined her life. She screamed at me, too, telling me how she thought it to be ironic how my father made her life a living hell, taking all those dear to her away, that it was only fitting when I killed her, as I was seeming to finish my father's work.

I held her, pinned her up against the canyon wall, and she screamed at me more. She beat her tiny fists against my chest and let her sorrow ring throughout the canyon walls. I took all I could, I let her cry on me, but now I feel so hated.

She cried all night and well into the morning. Her face is slightly swollen from her weeping, even in sleep. I fear she sleeps now only because of exhaustion.

She hates me, I can feel it. Her kindness: had it merely been an act? Had she forced herself to smile at me, time after time?

I feel so lost.

I feel so cold.

May 20th

The port town of Costa del Sol was reached before midnight, thanks to the flower girl's young yet wise friend in the fire cat. He lent us transportation, and it proved to allow us good time in making it clear across the continent. We've procured boat tickets, and are heading back to Mideel.

The flower girl claims she wants to head home in an effort to clear her mind and gather her thoughts.

I can't deny her such a wish, and so I'm stuck on a boat for the next three days. Her company was once welcomed, her warm smiles brightening the mood. I've always liked the way she would speak to me, even if I could never vocalize my responses, and would tell me the stories of her past.

Now, however, she merely stares blankly out the window. I doubt she knows I hear her crying at night; had I not been formerly trained to listen so closely and intently to the night, I would never even suspect her weeping. Still, she remains distant and I am at a loss as of what actions to take.

She talks to me still; she doesn't ignore me when I wish to acquire her attention. Her company, however, is unwelcome in the fact that it seems like she is straining herself to be around me. I wish not to make her uncomfortable, yet there is nothing else I find myself able to do in while in her presence other than let her to her own thoughts.

May 21st

I still hate boats. Hate. Hate! HATE!

May 24th

I've come to the hardest crossroad in my life, and have decided on the path that will break both of our hearts.

No more talking in codes: I speak my heart now.

Aerith, I can't be without you, and for that simple reason I am willing myself to leave your side. You'll never find happiness with me in your life. We'd forever be on the run, always fearing who we'd be spotted by. I can offer you nothing but eternity with Cloud at our heels.

You know, just as well as I do, that he would never understand. I can't put you in danger by remaining by your side.

He's managed to follow out heels this far: there is little doubt in my mind that he'll follow our trail back here and seek you out.

Hate me if you must, Aerith, but understand that I do this only for you. I could never, in a million years, willingly place you in harms way.

I ask that you don't try to find me after I am gone. Learn to forget, and simply move on with your life. I'm sure Cloud and the others miss you. What of your mother?

How strange it is that I was the one who stole your life in the first place, and now wish I could be the part to make you happy.

I wish only happiness for you.

Before, when you would tell me you forgave me just before we would fall to sleep, I was not sure I deserved it.

Now, I am certain I don't.

You've torn my world apart, and built me back up as a better person.

Aerith, I love you.

I truly, deeply love you with all of my heart and soul.