Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, and hobbits invented golf. I swear.
A/N 51, in theory a time when people start thinking about retirement. Retired people play golf, company executives play golf. Shin-Ra employees work for a company and therefore play golf, I never said a word about them enjoying it.
Sephiroth looked down the long green field at the tiny yellow flag in the distance before looking somewhat dismayed at Zack, Lazard and Tseng. The other three were looking rather comfortable in slacks and polo, Sephiroth however had flat out refused to change out of his normal coat, he looked rather out of place wearing a black polo, black leather pants, and his favorite coat.
Shaking his head he examined his club, "so all I have to do is use this pathetic excuse for a weapon to hit that little ball all the way to that little flag?"
Lazard nodded, "sounds simple when you put it like that but its harder then it looks."
"Come on Seph everything'll be just fine!" Zack exclaimed clapping Sephiroth on the back.
He sighed looking forelorned at Tseng, "We must all suffer through this new tournament. You are not alone." The Turk replied.
Sephiroth sighed turning his attention to the little white ball at his feet; it seemed so insignificant and pointless. "I wish I had my sword," he muttered raising his club one handed, looking more like he was about to cut the ball in half then hit a golf ball. He had his utmost concentration on the ball, imagining it was Hojo's head that he was about to lop off was certainly helping.
"Don't forget to say four!" Zack shouted.
Sephiroth faltered glaring at Zack, "in the middle of my backswing?!"
"Sorry," Zack winced smiling.
Sephiroth shook his head looking back at the ball returning to his stance, focus; just imagine its Hojo's ugly little head and you're going to bash it all the way to Cosmo Canyon. With that image in mind he swung, the force alone of the club on the ground snapped the metal rod like a twig. He missed hitting with the face of the club and hit the ball with the rod, despite the mishap both ball and club head went flying down the fairway.
They sailed well past the flag and over to the tee box of the second hole, he could see a geyser of red off glimmering in the sun near there. Tseng shook his head silently, Zack was on the ground in hysterics, Lazard sighed, "I think that's a new course record."
"I think that's a new world record," Zack managed as he wiped some tears off his face.
Tseng jumped into the cart, "though I think you may have hit someone."
"Oh…" Sephiroth sighed climbing onto his seat, Zack and Lazard sat down to see if it really had happened.
Tseng drove off to the next tee box and parked near the river of blood. They got off to see Hojo's body, headless, yet clutching his crotch in the fetal position, confetti of cranial confections sprayed in a crimson and grey fan behind his headless shoulders. The club head was lying clutched between Hojo's knees while the ball was a few feet beyond the bloody mess embedded in the hill of the next tee.
"Good thing you didn't yell four!" Zack laughed.
