Disclaimer: The Final Fantasy VII Compilation belongs rightfully to Square-Enix. This amateur effort at fan-based fiction is in no way making profit off of the licensed characters described therein, nor is it associating any new original characters to Square-Enix either.
Chapter Twelve
By the time Sephiroth returned to Midgar, his apartment refurbished and his mobile once again replaced, the air at headquarters was stagnant with apprehension. AVALANHCHE had failed in their attempt to destroy Midgar with the mako cannon in Junon, Elfé's plan foiled by the Turks. The city had narrowly escaped two subsequent deaths by both Genesis and AVALANCHE, and although the company proceeded to function as though nothing had happened, Sephiroth could see the fear, worry and stress on the faces of nearly every employee. The invincible Shin-Ra Inc., its members in SOLDIER now dwindling to a dangerous number, might not be able to protect its own customers anymore.
Sephiroth had never been one to follow politics, but it was nearly impossible to ignore the complaints and protests about how the meaningless war with Wutai had left them vulnerable to all of the recent attacks, that President Shinra's greed and expansionist ideologies had caused them the grievances that they were facing. In response to the criticism, the company predictably initiated a tax hike on electricity, hoping that the revenue would help with the damages and losses they sustained. Sephiroth didn't need to be a political scientist to see that the action would more than likely provoke the growing anti-ShinRa following.
While the world was concerned with that, Sephiroth tried to focus on Elfé's advice. On the SOLDIER floor by the briefing room were the equipment lockers where the second and third classes received their standard issue weapons and armor. Sephiroth sought out the electronic kiosk there, a simple database where members of SOLDIER could sign up for any available missions that had not yet been assigned to someone. It had been years since Sephiroth had even looked at the thing. The mission list usually consisted of small, tedious operations, such as patrolling the slums for Shin-Ra military police on leave, or beta-testing an upgrade to the training room. Sephiroth wouldn't have normally bothered with it, but the truth of the matter was that he had no idea where to start looking when it came to Elfé's recommendation. There was the small hope that if he perhaps distracted himself with assignments he could complete with his eyes closed, then his purpose for fighting would find him instead.
"Now there's something you don't see every day."
Sephiroth barely spared Lazard a glance as he emerged from the Briefing Room, cleaning his eyeglasses with a cloth. He continued to scroll through the list of available errands, irritated with the large number of missions involving the Science Department. Every half-an-hour or so, a new one would be added to the list, a request by Professor Hojo to collect combat data against captured specimens and the like.
Lazard leaned against the mission, ever amused by the glare in Sephiroth's eye. "I don't think I've ever actually seen you look for grunt work."
"I'm bored," Sephiroth replied, his eyes still on the screen.
"I'm actually on my way downstairs to welcome the batch of new recruits," Lazard revealed. "If you're really that bored you could try training them."
Sephiroth let out a short bark of laughter. "You're a funny man, Deusericus."
"Why thank you, I'm here till Thursday," he immediately responded, smiling as he returned the glasses to his face.
Lazard had been the one to fill Sephiroth in on the details regarding Genesis and Angeal. Tseng and Zack had managed to track Hollander down to an abandoned Shin-Ra research facility in the Icicle region to the far north, a place called Modeoheim. It was where Hollander had taken the rest of the stolen weapons and copy technology, and it was the true place where he and Genesis had been operating from. The account that Zack had left in the paperwork that followed described Genesis as having degraded to the point of rapidly aging, his appearance comparable to that of a man in his mid-sixties. Finally coming to the realization that Hollander could not stop the degradation, Genesis allegedly took his own life, free-falling into the abyss under the out-of-use mako reactor, a pit that held the substance decades before it had run dry.
As for Angeal… Sephiroth was not exactly sure what to make of Zack's report. It seemed inconsistent somehow. Last time Sephiroth had seen him, Angeal seemed determined to put a stop to Genesis' destructive plans, but at Modeoheim he had apparently resolved himself to attacking Zack, forcing the young First Class to engage his mentor in combat out of self-defense. Angeal did not survive the encounter. The only certain fact was their detainment of Hollander, now currently held in Junon and awaiting interrogation.
"You might enjoy welcoming them, at least," Lazard said. "We're hoping to bring in some transfers from Heidegger's department, so at least they'll have basic training."
"Good for them," Sephiroth dryly remarked, logging off from the system and his fruitless search. "Why not," he added, following Lazard out. It would give him something to occupy his boredom at least.
Genesis had cost SOLDIER a lot, between the deserters he took with him to copy his genetic traits onto, to the lives he took during his short lived rebellion. Therefore it was deemed necessary to bring recruits from wherever possible. However, it wasn't so simple. The transferred military police from the Public Safety department may not have the physical requirements needed to survive the mako treatments.
That was where Lazard took him to – the Public Safety grounds behind the Shin-Ra building. Lazard went to welcome the volunteers personally, where they waited with new Third Classes, and to wish them luck with the physical aptitude exam while Sephiroth opted to watch from the observation room nearby, the hopeful recruits unaware of his presence there. The last thing he felt like doing was giving some quazi-inspirational speech simply because he was SOLDIER's favorite mascot. Sephiroth was certain that Lazard would try to push him into doing it anyway, though.
And then Sephiroth saw something he hadn't expected at all. Lazard patted a tall figure in a First Class uniform on the back and then walked off towards the observation room. Zack Fair, who he hadn't seen since Genesis attacked weeks ago, addressed the pristine line of SOLDIER hopefuls, the men still in their MP uniforms, machine gun rifles slung on their left shoulders. He seemed different somehow, aside from the slightly longer, combed back new hairstyle. Though the kid still oozed the confidence Sephiroth had always seen, gone was what Angeal used to call "the puppy." Zack seemed calmer, humbler, and resolved.
What held Sephiroth's attention, even as Lazard entered the room, was the familiar sword on Zack's back, the great white blade that Angeal had always guarded so closely for his family. Zack was now in possession of the Buster Sword, inherited no doubt during his final meeting with Angeal. Nothing about Zack's expression or demeanor suggested that he had violently forced the sword from his mentor. In fact, Zack pulled the weapon out to address his audience, his gaze full of reverence as the initiated Third Classes and Shinra army hopefuls were held captive by whatever he was saying.
Sephiroth concentrated on Zack's expression, on the pattern his lips made to form words. "Embrace your dreams, and no matter what happens, protect your honor as SOLDIER."
He found himself relaxing a little, his tightly knitted eyebrows easing back into a calm expression. Though Zack had not been Sephiroth's pupil, there was something satisfying in seeing how Angeal's student had turned out to be. Zack Fair had exceeded all of his friend's expectations, and had even gone as far as fully adopting the man's philosophy on life. He supposed it was comforting to know that at least one of his friends had been able to leave some kind of legacy.
A pupil, then? Sephiroth asked himself. Did having something to fight for begin with passing knowledge on to another? He searched his mind for names and faces in SOLDIER. Yes, he had on occasion taken part in the basic sword training of Third Classes, but there had never been a member of SOLDIER that caught his attention, or intrigued him enough to teach everything he knew. In order to pass all of that along to someone, Sephiroth would not only need to find someone worthy of teaching, but also a person he could actually stand for a long period of time, and he certainly didn't have many of those. Two people who could make such a claim were now dead.
Outside things became very busy as the physical aptitude exam for SOLDIER began. The door to the observation room opened, and in entered both Heidegger and Rufus Shinra, the head of Public Safety half-way through a cigar and the young vice-president with his nose wrinkled a little in disgust. Rufus took to standing as far away from Heidegger as he could, his spot near Lazard making the two seem twin-like in appearance.
Heidegger barked out a guffaw, spewing out a puff of cigar smoke. "Have you been keeping up with our boys at the Security Department?" he asked, pointing a thumb behind him at the few dozen troops being evaluated outside. "I don't understand why any of them would want to move unto SOLDIER when our department has got the best technological resources." Catching the raised eyebrow of Lazard, he quickly added, "No offense m'boy."
"You'll have to forgive Heidegger," Rufus said, "…or not." In his signature gesture he smirked and pushed aside a lock of blonde hair. "He's so used to competing with Scarlet's department that it's his default response to everyone else. Except he doesn't seem to realize that no one else actually cares."
Heidegger frowned, the cigar pressed tightly in between his teeth. "Don't talk about me as if I'm not here!"
Emphasizing the insult, Rufus turned his back on the man to face Lazard and Sephiroth. Lazard pushed his glasses further against his face and crossed his arms in an admittedly defensive stance. "To what do we in SOLDIER owe the pleasure, Mr. Vice-President?" Lazard asked, his tone tense and guarded. Sephiroth quietly watched the interaction unfold, a realization gradually dawning upon him.
"No need to be so formal, Lazard," Rufus replied, "we've been working together for years."
"You're in a much higher position now," Lazard defended, "one not easily achieved by others. One might even argue that it's a position to be born into."
Sephiroth hid his interest in the conversation behind a stoic mask, anticipating Rufus' response to the veiled jab. He didn't imagine that the backhand was lost on Rufus, but in his usual political acumen the young vice-president expertly brushed it off with a confident response. "Destiny chooses very few, it seems."
Lazard closed his eyes, his lips forming a solemn shape. "Indeed it does." He then politely excused himself from the room, muttering about a matter in his office that suddenly came to his attention.
"Now that's not like him, is it?" Rufus asked, mirroring Sephiroth's thoughts. They watched through the observation panel as Lazard passed the recruits Zack had been examining without even a second glance to the newest members of SOLDIER. Normally Sephiroth would have expected Lazard to address them with a small welcoming speech or words of encouragement, but even the regular e-mails and messages he usually sent to boost morale had become less frequent, and those he had sent lately appeared to be lined with some underlying concern, perhaps a personal one.
"It's probably nothing," Sephiroth answered, both to Rufus and to his own thought process. "There is a lot that needs repairing here since Genesis' attack."
"This is true," Rufus agreed. "There a lot of people who depend on Director Lazard, even you, to some extent."
Sephiroth eyed him carefully, not pushing the matter with an immediate answer but wondering what Rufus was hoping to get at. "Lazard is an administrator," Sephiroth said carefully. "An administrator provides discipline and organization. I need no such guidance with either one."
Despite Sephiroth's cautionary glare to the younger man, Rufus gave him an unconcerned shrug. "I see. Whereas the younger members of SOLDIER look to Lazard as a paternal icon and trust their careers in his hands, you are a constant that remains in Shin-Ra with or without him."
Remembering Elfé's words, Sephiroth thought, With or without Shin-Ra too. He may not have known what he wanted to fight for, but he was certain of what he didn't want to become. With the path that the company was currently on, Sephiroth was almost certain he would outlive Shin-Ra, and when that time came he refused to decay with the Mako reactors they would inevitably leave behind.
"I suppose hindsight is 20/20 after all," Rufus mused. "You are wise in not trusting Lazard so blindly as your inferiors do."
Sephiroth frowned. He knew Rufus had been trying to pry something from him. "What is it, Shinra? I'm not interested in any petty internal power struggles."
Rufus shook his head in an almost apologetic way. Even the self-assured vice-president could not pretend Sephiroth hadn't already lost patience with him, or ignore the righteous threat that was building in his verdant glare. "Very well, it may not bother you," Rufus consented, "but I'm sure you're aware that Lazard is not without his own agendas."
"Who isn't," Sephiroth hissed.
"Indeed," Rufus said with a nod. He brushed back his hair again and turned, the door automatically sliding open for him as he departed. Heidegger scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully, flicking the ash of his cigar to the floor with his other hand.
"Thought he would never stop talking," Heidegger sighed.
Sephiroth ignored him, his scowl deepening. It was in Rufus' nature to spread discord amongst the others in power, but SOLDIER didn't really concern him, which meant that Lazard had some personal interest in Rufus' position. Sephiroth now wondered what Lazard was willing to do to achieve those interests. The politics of it all didn't matter to him, but if SOLDIER was compromised because of it…
Memories of Angeal flashed briefly before him, of his late friend's distress over the home he had come to revere. Then there was Zack outside, continuing his mentor's legacy. Where would that all be if Lazard took it upon himself to destroy it? Sephiroth could feel the winds of change upon him, and he was just a mountain that was incapable of budging before it.
I can bring change, he realized, but should I even bother? According to the press, he was single handedly responsible for ending the war in Wutai. He brought change without even planning to, simply acting on the whims of corporate interests. For the first time, Sephiroth felt disgusted by the notion, having felt nothing for the act previously. Elfé was right. He could not continue being driven by apathy.
Sephiroth left that night for Wutai, having made a list in his mind of the things he did not feel indifferent towards. Two of those things had been his only friends, and now they were gone. Once upon a time there was Dahlia, but he had grown indifferent towards her as well, Sephiroth willing to admit that his feelings for her had not been particularly overwhelming to begin with. However, he first knew her during the only time in his life where there was something he was willing to fight for. The one thing that had been a true challenge for him to achieve had once been in the hands of the greatest swordsman to have ever walked the planet before himself, and once Sephiroth had obtained it, he needed nothing else from anyone or anything.
Deep in Wutai five years ago, Masamune awaited him.
There was the hope that if he could somehow revisit that moment he might be able to discover a new reason to fight, a new challenge. Masamune the sword had once belonged to Masamune the man, and as far as Sephiroth was aware, he still existed, hidden in the dense forests of that western country and undisturbed by the war. He had been the stuff of legends, a man who lived to be almost two-hundred, and unable to be defeated. The Wutai claimed that he would appear in the war to aid his people against Shin-Ra, and those in SOLDIER had often spoke of the legendary katana he would one day give to the warrior who finally bested him in battle. Sephiroth, who was younger then but no less skilled, was determined to prove or disprove the existence of such a legendary weapon.
Sephiroth simply had Naomi fly him to Wutai and leave him near the southern forests, knowing the location of Masamune due to his previous visit. Though he had discovered the man's sanctuary years ago, he would not compromise its location to others. That was the agreement he chose to honor when he won the sword in his duel with the ancient warrior.
He breached the thick woods alone, allowing the lush darkness to envelop him willingly. Sephiroth accepted the familiarity of the place, found himself relaxing even in the face of the increasingly claustrophobic closeness of the trees. This was a lot like the Ancient Forest near Cosmo Canyon, the trees so old and still for so long they seemed unlikely to change anytime soon. He almost felt a kinship with them, acutely aware of what it was like to stand still while the world moved around him. In the natural quiet of Wutai's oldest forest this was the closest Sephiroth ever felt to being home, or at least, he imagined how it might feel to have one.
"Why so concerned with home and identity? The planet is home. You are born, then you die, and in the end there is no end. You go home, to be born again."
"You're describing the Lifestream aren't you?"
"When I was young boy, I saw it. Cradle of life, cradle of death. In it I met sleeping mother waiting for son to return to her."
Sephiroth allowed himself a smile, the old man's words all those years ago just a tiny fraction of the hours of conversation he had with the man known as Masamune. It was just after Professor Gast's death that Sephiroth found Masamune in these very woods, and discovered much more than an aged swordsman. A man who outlived his own grandchildren and great-grandchildren was the closest thing to an Ancient Sephiroth had ever met. He was no Cetra, of course, but the term "Ancient" encompassed all that came before the era of humanity's control of the environment, before the harvest of coal, oil or Mako. Masamune was what remained of Wutai's oldest philosophies, when the civilization was in its infancy. Sephiroth thought he found a new mentor after Gast, and there was a part of him that didn't wish to return to Shin-Ra, SOLDIER or the war even after he won the sword from Masamune, but much like his present circumstance, Sephiroth realized that he could not stand still forever. In the peace of Masamune's sanctuary, Sephiroth would not hear the panic of his comrades or of Shin-Ra's invested parties in the war. He looked forward to feeling that again.
The hike was easier, the path to Masamune ingrained in Sephiroth's memory. There were no foot trails created by any previous hikers. Here the trees grew wild, branches entangled with one another with the moonlight barely filtering in through the leaves. The first signs of winter caused the trees to begin their gradual shedding; yellow, red, green and orange falling all around him as he walked. Every step was a careful calculation, as the roots beneath had long since finished their grasp for territory, taking up every possible space and entwining with their gnarled companions. Sephiroth felt many pairs of eyes on him, eyes that years ago would have challenged his presence here in the wood, but the creatures that dwelled in the tiny spaces between the trees were not hard of memory. They remembered the powerful youth who dismissed their threats with half an effort, and their descendants sensed the weapon he inherited from Masamune who dwelled at the heart of the place.
Sephiroth knew he reached his destination when the trees around him became sparse, the trunks burnt black and the branches forever devoid of leaves. The plethora of color that surrounded him previously was now a bleak landscape of black and bleached bone, the moonlight only emphasizing this nearly monochrome palette. Through the opening Sephiroth came upon a clearing, and in the clearing was a simple wooden dwelling, the architecture harking back to Wutai's earliest styles, not as ornate as the pagodas and houses of the present, but no less refined. The sophistication was there, and it hadn't changed in the five years since Sephiroth's last visit. It probably hadn't changed in decades either.
The space before the dwelling was a ring with white sand. Sephiroth stood in the middle, remembering the duel with Masamune. Somewhere to the left by the trees was the soft pattering of a bamboo fountain, dispensing water into a basin from its well. He waited.
"Told you not to come again."
Sephiroth lifted his gaze to stare at the dwelling from which the voice came, a deep resonate that was full of conviction and unwavering even with the extreme age of its owner.
"And I wouldn't have," Sephiroth answered, "but I needed to find something."
"Already have what you need. Leave an old man to wither in peace."
Sephiroth slowly paced around the ring, staring about his surroundings. "I thought you would have returned to the Planet by now. Are you waiting for something?"
"No," the disembodied voice answered, and it broke in its conviction. "And it is agony."
Sephiroth gave the dwelling an alarmed stare, his gloved fists clenched in anticipation. He saw a wrinkled hand grasp at the open doorway, gripping the frame with firmly but with a half-heartedness all the same. The man known as Masamune stepped out into the moonlight with a deliberate, careful pace. The washed-out grey fabric of his kimono hung dejectedly on his frame, the sleeves draped heavily over his arms. Masamune's tired frame eventually paused in the middle of the clearing, narrowed eyes wearily studying Sephiroth. His hair was as silver as his own, and longer, almost to Masamune's feet with half of it picked up in a knot on the top of his head along with a matching, well-groomed beard that reached his collarbone. While he hardly appeared to be two-hundred, there was no mistaking the man's aged appearance. The way he held himself however said a lot more to Sephiroth than the wrinkles on his skin. When Masamune stood to his full height he used to appear taller than he actually was, more imposing than Sephiroth even. Now his shoulders naturally drooped and his head and neck were craned downward, as if it would be painful for him to look up.
Sephiroth grimaced, feeling the urge to approach the old man but rooted to the spot by indecision, as if touching him would make Masamune break or disappear entirely. "What has happened to you?" Five years ago Masamune had the strength to break a man with his stare.
"One does not drink from the river of life without consequence," Masamune sighed. "My soul wishes to sleep, but my body is doomed to forever walk. I should have died long ago…" He closed his eyes and swayed as if he were dizzy, and Sephiroth immediately started forward, catching the man by his shoulders before he could fall.
"You mean the Lifestream did this?" Sephiroth asked, glaring at the state of Masamune. It didn't make sense for the body to prolong as it did. Generally, contact with the purest form of Mako physically debilitated a person, giving them Mako poisoning. Then again, Sephiroth had never seen the Lifestream itself; no one had. Who other than Masamune could truly describe its effects?
"When I was young boy, I met sleeping mother waiting for a son," Masamune explained. "She could not be whole without him, and so she gave me a gift. With it I was to wait and give gift to her son."
Sephiroth's eyes widened slightly in realization. "Masamune," he breathed. "You met an Ancient, didn't you? The Ancient gave you the sword, hoping you would find some surviving member of the Cetra and give it to them, no matter how long it took you. Contact with her prolonged your life, but since I took the sword from you…" He released the old man and turned away, clenching his fists. "…you won't be able to die now."
Sephiroth held his hand out and called silently for Masamune's gift. The katana's hilt appeared in his hand, and as he wrapped his fingers around its familiar shape, the rest of the blade materialized into its full length, as fluid as Sephiroth's thoughts of the weapon. "The Cetra are gone now. You would have never been able to find one."
"Reunion…"
He turned slightly, finding Masamune hunched over, trembling. "When time comes, you must take me to Reunion. That is the wish of sleeping mother who gave me part of herself."
"Reunion?" Sephiroth asked. "I don't understand." He felt strange, a sort of buzzing in the back of his mind, calling him somewhere.
"You will know," Masamune reassured. Still trembling he approached Sephiroth and stared at the sword that was once his. "Do not be discouraged. I succeeded in fulfilling sleeping mother's wish." With a shaking hand he gently grasped Sephiroth's left wrist, the one holding the sword. "This was but a formless shape of metal living deep in the Planet. She gave it to me and I crafted the purest weapon that could ever be made."
The calling became stronger, and Sephiroth shut his eyes against it. "Masamune…"
"It is one with its wielder, an extension of the self, but only one may use it, the one chosen by sleeping mother."
"What you are describing is nonsense," Sephiroth decided, opening his eyes and pulling away from Masamune's grasp. "You met that Ancient almost two-hundred years ago. Her son is long dead, along with the rest of the Cetra. I'm not nearly old enough to be-,"
"-and yet you are the only one who bested me in battle, the only one able to grasp the sword as I have. I can die in peace knowing this."
"And yet you can't." Sephiroth stared guiltily at the ground, the closest thing to pity he had ever felt for another human being. While he was not directly responsible for Masamune's predicament, he still felt as such.
"Why did you come here?"
Sephiroth brought the sword up to eye level, staring sullenly at the gleaming blade. "I'm looking for a reason to fight. I thought that returning here would help me find one. Dueling you for this sword was the last time I truly fought for anything."
"I see. So like me, you are waiting. Waiting for Reunion."
Sephiroth brought the sword down, the blade cutting through the air with a musical hum. "I'm done waiting." He turned to look at the other swordsman. "My apologies, Masamune. It seems I've made a mistake. I took your reason for fighting away from you, and now you're cursed with this abominated form of immortality. I…"
Masamune craned his head up to look at Sephiroth in interest.
"I can end it for you," Sephiroth offered. "I take no pleasure in this, but I can return you to the Planet."
"The sleeping mother's final gift…" Masamune sighed, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back, the moon bathing his aged features. "Do it, boy. It can only be by your hand."
Sephiroth released a heavy exhale. "Goodbye Masamune."
The sword hummed as Sephiroth spun. He barely felt its impact against Masamune's body, but the man collapsed all the same, his back striking the ground and sending up a cloud of white dust. Grimacing, Sephiroth stepped over to his body and stared down at the man who made his sword, surprised by the expression of serenity he found on Masamune's face. Somehow there was no blood, not a trace of it anywhere in the rip he had made in Masamune's kimono. Within a few moments of heavy silence his body began to fade, the physical matter of him becoming bright like the glow of materia and dissipating into the air. Sephiroth watched the fragments of his soul until they grew invisible in the air, pure energy in no singular form.
"Reunion…" Sephiroth murmured. What did he mean? Sephiroth shook his head and sat upon the steps to Masamune's old dwelling, trying to ignore the call, the impulse to follow it overwhelming. He refused to move, however, not willing to be lead along like some marionette on strings even if it was by his own subconscious. But he could not deny the sensation that the calling brought, of what it promised him.
It was as if he were being called home.
Author's Note: So this was a long time coming... I've been working diligently on my original novel of sorts, so fanfiction has kind of been put on the back burner. But if there's someone who will never leave my fragile little brain, it's Sephiroth. That's right folks. He will never be a memory.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing in the meantime, I really do appreciate the feedback. Also, a big thank you to Irish-Brigid for the timeline. It definitely helped. Hoped you enjoyed this chapter that was like a year in the making. I'm not sure I'm satisfied with it, especially after making you all wait for so long...