This Bitter Earth
Forgotten Memories
Hey.
Hey.
It's been awhile.
Awhile since what?
Since that day.
Huh?
Yeah, you don't remember.
Should I remember?
Yes. It's sort of important.
Why don't you tell me then?
Because… I can't. Cosmic rules and all.
What happens if I remember?
I don't know.
Why am I so scared of remembering?
What are you scared of?
I'm scared…
Yes?
Of…
Go on, go on.
Myself.
Really?
Yes.
You should be.
What's going to happen?
The Destruction.
The Destruction of what?
Yourself.
I think…
What?
That I'll..
Hmm?
Blame society.
Green eyes shot open. Sephiroth sat straight up, breathing as if he had just run fifty miles. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and leaned against the black, leather couch he'd fallen asleep on. Sephiroth raised his hand and stared at the number one tattooed on his right hand. Normally, he wore his gloves to cover the ever-present reminder of his true origins. Whenever he went home though, he would take them off. After all, there was no one else there to witness him in his moments of weakness.
Sephiroth reflected on his childhood. He figured out at an early age that his life wasn't normal. Everyday of his life up until he turned eighteen, he received daily injections of Mako that always made him deathly sick for a couple hours. He didn't mind at first because Professor Gast was the one to see him and the old man treated Sephiroth like a son. Gast would always sit with Sephiroth until his sickness passed.
However, one day when Sephiroth was about six, Professor Gast wasn't there to give him his shots. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Finally, he summoned up the courage to ask Hojo. The crazed scientist told him that Gast had died while on an expedition at the Northern Crater. Sephiroth never thought it was possible to feel so utterly alone and sad. The only kind person to ever treat him humanely had died. Life took away his happiness… Sephiroth wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come. His pain was his alone and he would keep it to himself.
Hojo took over after Gast died and he was never gentle when giving Sephiroth Mako injections. The effects of Mako were so painful to his young body that tears would form against his will. Hojo would tell him that soldiers never cried and give him a good smack or two across the face. The next day, though, there would always be some sort of toy waiting for him in his room. Sephiroth wasn't sure if it was Hojo's way of saying sorry or his caretaker's way of apologizing for the way things were.
As a young child, life was lonely and repetitive. Days would be spent locked in a room with bars over the window. For six hours, each day, he was tutored. Sometimes, Hojo went over lessons with him. Other times, it was complete strangers who couldn't pronounce his name properly. "No, no boy!" they would shout, "Are you completely stupid or are you just trying to irritate me further? And what sort of name is Seth-e-broth anyway?" Sephiroth would just sigh and turn his head. It didn't matter how many times he told them his name. They never remembered.
The only thing he could do during his younger days was sit and wonder what the sun would feel like against his skin. He wondered what it would be like to interact with other people besides scientists and soldiers. He even wondered what it would be like to have his mother bake him cookies and ask him how his day went.
All his life, he was told that he was going to become the greatest general in the history of the Planet. Nobody ever told him that he didn't have to become the greatest general ever. Nobody ever told him he was smart enough or talented enough to pursue other interests. He never knew there could be something else besides the military in his life. So, he did what everyone said he was capable of doing. He didn't regret it though. Something in his blood longed to fight. There was something almost orgasmic about being thrown into the heat of battle, fighting for dominance. And always, always… the smell of blood and the terrified screams cast a spell over him and drove him to battle as if his life depended on it.
It is a characteristic of my people. Your descendents. The Cetra!
"Shut up."
How could you be this cruel to your own mother?
"My mother's dead."
I most certainly am not!
"My mother is dead."
Stubborn child. Tell me, what is your mother's name?
"Jenova," Sephiroth replied, sounding as he if was dreaming, "Hojo said her name was Jenova."
Stubborn child. These filthy humans are holding me captive! They've experimented on you and I like mere animals. Avenge. You and I can take this world together!
"No."
You can become a god! No more pain for you… no more loneliness.
"I…"
I am your Mother! I feel in my soul the depths of loneliness… I know the pain you've had to endure. You're training was always tougher… you were always neglected and some days sent to bed without anything to eat. After your Nana left, nobody cared. Nobody cared. Alone.. pain.. Sephiroth…
"Where are you?"
I… can't keep… the connect… up. She… evil… Cetra… binding my…
Sephiroth closed his eyes and waited. There was nothing inside his head but his own thoughts. Alone. Again.
Sephiroth stood up and crossed the distance from his couch to long the glass wall on the other side of his apartment. He looked down at the streets buzzing with life. He had always been the silent observer… always watching life like some sort of god, but never interacting with the people.
Sephiroth placed his right hand on the cold glass. His eyes shined brightly. "Who am I?" he whispered to himself. "Who was my mother? What about my father?"
Sephiroth slid his hand down the glass. He no longer saw the couples holding hands and stealing kisses. He no longer saw SOLDIER cadets hanging near a bench. Nor did he see the groups of teenagers just milling about.
Instead, he saw himself attending school for the very first and last time in Nibelheim. He saw himself being pushed out of a black truck and left alone. He saw himself holding his books and walking up the broken, concrete steps. Pushing open the double doors, he walked through the long and silent hallway. He sat for what felt like hours as the principal stared curiously at him while listening to someone on the other end of the phone. He'd murmur 'okay' and 'I understand' every so often.
After the principal hung up, he didn't kindly take Sephiroth by hand and lead him to class. He grabbed Sephiroth roughly by the shoulder and pushed him down the hall.
"I know all about you," the principal told him. Sephiroth remembered how odd that sounded because he didn't know anything about himself. He just knew he existed and everything else was like some sort of passing dream turned nightmare.
Sephiroth remembered sitting in class, trying hard to make himself disappear. All the curious stares and whispers made him feel uncomfortable. He remembered recess, where all the children gathered on the small playground. Sephiroth stood under a tree, watching all the kids and trying to ignore the rude remarks by them. He was good at ignoring people.
But there was a girl, Sephiroth remembered, with long, dark hair and hazel eyes that sometimes turned a reddish color depending on the light. Everyone flocked around her and they all laughed and played together. He also remembered a boy with blonde hair that would stare at the group of playing kids but never join them. And the girl would sometimes look at the boy as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. Never, never did she look at him… not until…
Until… rocks were thrown at him.
FREAK!!
LOSER!!
STUPID!!
Look at his eyes! They're glowing.
I know! He's so weird!
Nobody is supposed to have silver hair!
I don't know… it's kind of cool.
Oh, you like him! Tifa likes freaks!
EWW!! I bet he scares his own mama!
He's worse than Cloud!
At least Cloud looks normal!
But he's still a bastard!
Cloud…
Hey, what's the new kid's name?
Sephiroth.
What kind of stupid name is that?
Nothing's normal about him.
Shouldn't talk about Tifa's boyfriend like that.
He's not my boyfriend! He's… not…
What?
Normal.
Sephiroth leaned his forehead on the glass, wishing that he could pass through it and fall… just fall down, down, down… down into oblivion. He wished he could just stop existing, but he knew it was impossible. If nothing else, the constant pain reminded him that he existed.
'Tifa was right back then, even if she doesn't remember me,' Sephiroth thought, 'Who am I, Tifa? Do you know?'
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A/N: I hope that was better than the last chapter as this one was written while I was at work. Oh yes… I can't go back and add the chapter translations in. Or rather, I'm too lazy to go back and add them in. But I will note the chapter translations right after the title from this point on. I'm glad you like the prologue, SolarCloud. The prologue was my favorite too, and I intended for the entire story to continue on in that style, but somewhere along the line, it took on an entirely different direction. Here are the previous translations of the chapter titles in order:
Prolouge – Before the Beginning
Chapter 1 – It Begins With A Dream
Chapter 2 – Visions of A Dream
Chapter 3 – The Flower Girl (or Girl of the Flower)
Chapter 4 – Seventh Heaven (or Seventh Sky)
Chapter 5 - Talks Between the Men