This Bitter Earth

"Alcohol goes directly to the bloodstream, which is why it effects every system in the body."

Sephiroth peered into the glass. His cat-shaped eyes were fixated on the yellow-gold liquid swirling around inside it. He wondered how too much of something so innocent looking could be so dangerous.

"Alcohol is a nervous system depressant."

Sephiroth tilted his head back. His long silver hair grazed the dusty, wooden floor. Raising the glass to his lips, Sephiroth took one long gulp. He squished the liquid around his mouth and savored the acrid taste. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as the liquor glided down his throat. Sephiroth was tempted to frown but his face remained impassive even though the liquor scorched his throat and lungs. Sephiroth sighed and ordered the tension from his body to leave.

"Alcohol does not relieve depression - it makes it worse. In addition to being a depressant, alcohol is a chemical solvent, a local anesthetic and an irritant."

Sephiroth eyes narrowed at no one in particular. He was just feeling a little bitter. Due to the dangerously high amounts of Mako in his blood stream, his metabolism was amazingly high and the right to drink himself into a drunken stupor was denied. Could he even call himself a man if he'd not once gotten drunk?

"One third of all twelfth graders have been drunk in the past 30 days."

Was he even human? Small cuts on his body healed in mere seconds. Larger cuts and deep wounds healed in minutes. And fatal injuries only took a few hours where as it took most other people days -- sometimes even weeks to heal. Increased strength… increased intelligence…. increased healing abilities… increased magic abilities.

He wondered if they were signs pointing to him being something other than human. After all, he was the only the person in the world, as far as he knew, to have naturally silver colored hair.

I am part of you as you are a part of me.

And, Sephiroth thought bitterly, the only person to hear voices and have visions in the middle of the day. He chuckled to himself. Would it be any different if he heard them late at night or early in the morning?

How soon you humans forget. My son, do you not recognize your own Mother's voice?

"My mother is dead," Sephiroth whispered.

I am sorry I could never hold you, but my body was too weak. After all the experiments, I just didn't have the strength. Not to mention that horrible man took most of cells and implanted them in unworthy humans…

Sephiroth mentally frowned. For a moment, the voice sounded almost as if it cared and was truly regretful, but when she said the word 'humans,' her voice grew cold and hateful. "My mother is dead."

Stubborn child. You'll eventually learn the truth of your existence.

Sephiroth closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear voices. He didn't want to be praised for his strength. He didn't want increased healing abilities. He didn't want highly impressive magical abilities. He didn't want to be a genius. He wanted to be normal. Damnit! Why couldn't anybody understand that?

Sephiroth took another gulp from the glass and slammed it downed. The glass cracked just a bit. "When a person's blood alcohol level ranges from .02 g/100ml to .08 g/100ml he or she usually has a change in mood and may have trouble interpreting what he or she sees and hears."

"I don't think you have to necessarily be drunk for that to happen."

Sephiroth looked up. Standing about a foot away from him was the bartender. She was a young girl, no older than 18 at the most. Her ebony hair, which hung loosely down her back and was fastened at the end by red a rubber band, had a healthy shine to it. Her skin, like everyone who lived in Midgar, was very pale. She had hazel eyes that seem to shift between brown and red in the dim lighting of the slums. She wore red, high top boots. The left shoe had a metal brace on it. She wore an almost indecently short skirt, but at second look, he saw that she wore shorts underneath. She also wore red suspenders over a white tank top, and Sephiroth couldn't help but stare for a lingering second at her well-endowed chest.

The girl stared at him expectantly. Upon seeing that she had no intention of leaving, he said, "What?"

"Hey, I know you who are!" she yelled, "But don't you dare get haughty with me!"

The corners of Sephiroth's mouth turned upwards in a half-hearted smile. She was so unlike the gentle flower girl he had met. "It seems you have me at a disadvantage then. You know who I am, but you would be…?"

"I'm Tifa! And this," she said, with a wave of her hand, "is my bar."

Sephiroth looked around. The bar, once loud with noise, quieted as he entered. Everyone knew immediately that he was the General of Shinra. If the hair was not a dead give away, then the legendary Masamune that he carried told all. Snorting with disgust at the drunks and poverty-stricken people of the Slums, he seated himself in the darkest corner and ordered his drink.

Though no one dared confront him, his reputation alone didn't stop the hateful glances thrown his direction. In fact, with the way the bar tender looked at him when he first entered, he thought that if looks could kill, he would have been on the ground gasping for his last breath. But now, she stood beside him with a ---friendly?--- smile.

"Tifa? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No. But I am curious as to why the Great Sephiroth would be in slums?"

Sephiroth shrugged casually. "Sector Three reactor was bombed. An estimated 200 hundred people were killed in the explosion, and countless reports of injuries keep coming in. People are screaming for justice and my services have been requested. You wouldn't happen to know anything?"

Sephiroth noticed the Tifa's eyes widen slightly. She shook her head furiously. "No, I don't know anything."

"Nothing?"

The girl shook her head.

"Pity," Sephiroth sighed. He could tell she was lying. "The people who were responsible must be heartless idiots."

"AVALANCHE is not heartless!" she yelled.

She gasped and threw her hand across her mouth… a gloved hand with metal knuckles and materia slots Sephiroth noted. She's a fighter, Sephiroth thought, she's connected somehow. Tread carefully. "So, you live in Sector Seven?"

"Yes," she said, "After all, I do own the bar. Remember?"

Sephiroth nodded absently. "Tifa's Seventh Heaven. What ever happened to the other six heavens?"

"I've heard that before," she laughed, flashing him a heart-warming smile. "Look, I was worried. You were talking to yourself."

"Thinking aloud to myself."

Tifa shifted her weight to her left foot. "You were reciting random facts about alcohol to yourself. You seemed depressed and so things must not be all apples and oranges on top of the Plate. Are you okay?"

"You're not originally from Midgar, are you?"

Tifa gasped. "How did you know?"

"Well," Sephiroth said, arching an arrogant eyebrow, "You have a slight country accent. It must have been real thick, but I'm guessing you've been here for while."

Tifa's eyes flashed with anger. "I moved here four years ago after my father was killed. A Mako reactor malfunctioned."

"And your mother?" Sephiroth whispered.

His voice was so soft and low that Tifa nearly missed the whispered question. She bit her lower lip and glanced behind her. There was a little girl working the bar. Tifa smiled and looked back at Sephiroth. His eyes are green… like dull emeralds, she thought. Sephiroth's eyes were downcast and he stared at the empty glass. He had a slight frown on his face and it appeared as if he were a million miles away.

"My mother had cancer. After my father died, we moved here to Midgar to stay with a distant relative. My mother died a year later."

"It hurts. Doesn't it?"

"Yes." Tifa watched him carefully and kept her voice even. "What about your Mother?"

Sephiroth seemed to instantly change. His face harden and the dull glow in his eyes brightened. "My mother's dead."

"Oh," she replied, and quickly realized that a change in the subject would be... safer territory to tread on. "What's your poison?"

"Arsenic."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Sephiroth replied, "I must leave. Business and all that."

Sephiroth stood and reached into his pocket. He threw some money on the table.

"That's too much," Tifa said.

Sephiroth merely shrugged. He gently pushed Tifa aside and strolled towards the old-fashioned, swinging doors. Sephiroth paused a moment, and for all appearances, seemed to be staring intently at the doors. He glanced back at Tifa, looking slightly confused.

"Good-bye, Tifa," Sephiroth said in a rather pleasant voice. And then he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Tifa cocked her head to the side. A chill ran down her spine and she knew --she didn't know how she knew, but she knew-- they would meet again.

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A/N: Things are moving a bit slow. I've thought about the pairings; it's going to be AeriSeph! I'm a die hard fan of that particular pairing, but I might work in a bit of romance between Tifa and Sephiroth. I actually got something in mind. The next part probably won't get written for a good little while because I got finals coming up pretty soon. I saw Bringing Down the House the other night, and it was very funny. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. Everyone, go see it!