Hojo was displeased.
Sephiroth's energy levels spiked, pushing the warrior closer to exhaustion. Hojo wanted to push his limits.
"Increase output by 35 percent immediately or you shall forgo all confectionaries for the next week."
A deceptively simple boy. Merely twelve, but so single-minded in his goals; he rarely needed extra impetus, yet his motives were unflinchingly bound to his emotional state. All of this, hidden behind a solid mask of professionalism; he was every anthropologist's dream. Entirely unlike that brat, Rhapsodos, and his lackey. Yes, they were a bad influence, those two. Perhaps limiting their contact with Sephiroth would be beneficial. Not completely, he didn't want stunt social development in its most crucial stages – social standing was crucial if he stood any chance of overthrowing ShinRa from the inside.
Sephiroth collapsed around two minutes later. Blood sugar levels critically low, slowed heartbeat, trembling and sweating; he showed signs of a diabetic coma. There he was, albeit struggling to get to his feet, but very much conscious. Extraordinary.
Hojo was only just beginning to scratch the surface when it came to the wonders of Jenova's legacy.
"Disappointing."
Sephiroth's head snapped to the observation chamber, a look of weariness crafted into his features.
"The task was to be completed within twenty-five minutes." Hojo informed through the speaker, "yet you failed to accomplish the assignment entirely. You may leave." Hojo could see the resentment clouding in the soon-to-be teenagers eyes, others may not spot it, but Hojo understood his son like no other.
Sephiroth would need to learn what it meant to be the strongest. Hojo's plans depended on it.