Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

I had much fun with this chapter! :) Hm-hm-hmm...

To Europe

"You're leaving," she said in wonder, watching the tall, leather-clothed man with silver hair. She figured she should guard her face.

"I have matters to attend to. I will return afterwards for my sword," he said in a voice that reeked with cold authority. Once he had his sword, though, would he leave and never come back...?

"I got my eye on you," claimed John Smoth, moving to one end of his T-shaped wooden stand.

"Not for long," Sephiroth muttered as he turned and left.

Paige didn't know what kind of matters he had to attend to, but if he didn't insist on bringing his sword along, that must mean it was nothing dangerous. Not too dangerous, at least.

"Ah!" she exclaimed upon hearing the entrance door shut. He really was leaving? Right now, this very minute? Suddenly in a hurry, Paige ran to one of the big windows in the living room and looked for any sign of the man outside, but he was already gone. Only green fields and forests as long as her eyes could see. Some long seconds passed as she searched for him among the trees along the road. She grew annoyed at first, when she couldn't see him, then disappointment took over. He had left, just like that, and now she realized that deep in her mind, she had hoped he would at least offer her a semblance of thanks for letting him stay in her little house. A little too much to expect, perhaps.

Sephiroth inhaled the wind that rushed past him, holding back a smirk as he relished in the feeling of the air coursing around him. The sun was scorching and the wind was cooling, and above him the sky was so blue and open he occasionally found himself searching for clouds looming on the horizon, which he was quickly approaching. Below, the scenery was stunningly green, but he paid no attention to it – he was too high up in the sky to heed to the small details below, whether they were trees, houses or mountains.

He was flying – quite literally flying, although he had no wings.

A few times his flight was disturbed by airplanes, which made him dive lower or rise higher to get out of sight. The only sounds he could hear were that of the surging wind and the relentless billowing of his coat. The absence of his Masamune hovered in the back of his mind, but it was best not to bring it where he was going.

Many things could be said about Sephiroth, but none could call him a fool. He was not witless enough to think Shinra wasn't searching for him. Recently, he had considered the possibility of them using remnants to track him. It had come to mind when he watched the news and the news anchor had explained that several confused persons had been stopped at the borders of many different states and countries. Their description had matched the behavior of the remnants. And, carrying the same cells in their bodies as he did, the remnants would attempt to track him down and thus lead Shinra to him.

Which was why he was going to London.

Needless to say, Sephiroth was not a person who wasted time, so he had other matters to attend to at the same time. First of all, he would visit a bank and withdraw money. Having been in his position for as long as he had, he had plenty of money to spare. Until now, Shinra had provided about everything he needed, so his money had simply gathered interest for years. His bank account ought to hold everything he currently wished for.

Of course, if Shinra had dared to bar or close his bank account, he might have to do something slightly more drastic to get his hands on money. He needed it to buy clothes for himself that fit – he had no other clothes than those he was wearing. Also, after his long flight, a hotel room might serve him well.

Shinra needed to think he was in London, so if he felt up to it, he might even decide to show himself in public, to lead Shinra even more astray. Of course, withdrawing money in London would also lead Shinra closer to him if they were monitoring his bank account. If he overdid things, Shinra would become suspicious, but what damage could it do? After he left the city, they would have no idea where, nor how, to find him. As for the remnants, he would see to it that they were taken care of. He, too, could sense the cells of Jenova that they carried.

Paige was so bored.

She wondered where Sephiroth was and when he would return.

It was almost completely dark outside by the time he reached the western shore of Ireland.

For hours he had flown far above the surface of the waves at a speed impossible for any other human to achieve than himself – if he could be called human. He had never flown this far before. Never had he experienced such raw power surge through him so steadily for such a long time. It wasn't hard to guess why. His whole being knew with utter certainty that he had healed almost completely, and that he was on his way to openly challenge Shinra. Just the thought of it gave him a thorough sense of satisfaction. The unfamiliar, fresh air and the salty smell of the crashing sea waves were just an added bonus.

By the time he reached the shore of England, the air was not as refreshing, however, and there were a lot more airplanes – even a few helicopters. None spotted him, apart perhaps from when he noticed an airplane just in the nick of time to dive out of its view – his dive had been so low that people might have caught a glance of him from the rooftops in Plymouth.

When he finally approached London, he'd had his fair share of airplanes and went straight to the closest bank. He was lucky it was still open – it was past closing time already. The majority of those who worked overtime there watched him closely while he was there, and he was certain that half of them held their hands close to the alarm buttons he guessed were hidden all over the bank. He held back his dark annoyance, though, and requested for them to hand over the money that were rightfully his. After this, he would like to rid himself of his money-related credit and debit cards and such (which Shinra could use to trace him), so he asked to withdraw as much money as possible. A lot of fuss was made about it, because he had nothing to carry it in, and it was so much he couldn't carry it without looking suspicious. Not that he looked normal to begin with, he added in his mind when he caught some people staring.

In the end Sephiroth was so sick of wasting time that he bought a couple of bags from a few people who worked there. They didn't complain or argue, obviously – the bargain was in their favor, and even if it were not, a glare would no doubt be enough to change their minds.

After that he found a hotel, checked in and dropped off his money.

Saturday morning, Paige was busy wallowing in self pity. Well, that, and milk and cereals and warm chocolate, true to her milk-aholic nature. Her anemia would worsen for sure, if she kept this up.

School, she thought bitterly, the word sounding hoarse and shadowy in her mind.

Only two nights separated her from her first day of another year of school. To tell the truth, the lessons weren't that bad, and the teachers were interesting enough. What worried her was her fellow school students – her classmates in particular. This year, like all the others, would start with the declaration of who was to be the ravenous school princess and the handsome school prince. All the other students would be forever stamped as background characters.

Personally she didn't mind being in the background. It allowed her to blend in. She preferred it, actually.

But it was never particularly easy for her to blend in when Solomon was around. Solomon, the son of her karate teacher. Solomon, the guy who was always so frighteningly kind to her. Solomon, whose wavy hair was so blond his hair was almost white, and whose eyes were so blue that the sky was a gray poop or something in comparison.

Solomon held the title of school prince.

The attention he gave her never failed to get her in trouble with the army of girls who served the school princess.

She sighed deeply with a great ache inside, then turned on the news channel with a helpless feeling while drinking milk. At least she didn't have to keep up her face facade for the moment.

Sephiroth had not bothered to buy a proper bag for his money. The ones he brought from the bank were too small, and too many. Instead, he had bought a big, black trash bag of plastic, in which he now carried his money around. No matter where he went, people turned after him. It never ceased to satisfy him when people looked into his face for a second too much and he looked back, causing them to flinch and turn away. He'd already visited all the shops he needed to visit, and each time – without fail – the shopkeeper's jaw dropped when he or she saw Sephiroth open his "wallet": the plastic bag. He had bought some clothes, as well as different things he deemed necessary for the not-so-distant future. Soon he was back in his luxury hotel room again, still angry after yet another maid had tried to visit his room to clean it or to offer him food.

The room service was unnecessary. He wished to be left in peace.
Or, he wished his room to be left in peace. Personally, he wouldn't mind attention – to fool Shinra.

Now for his plan.

Smirking, he left his room and walked up to the roof, from which he jumped and raced through the air. Relishing in the rush of adrenaline, he flashed a dark smirk and steered in between the tall buildings with great speed, flying low. People saw him, no doubt, but he doubted they could see what he was. They only saw a blur.

The second he found the building he was looking for, he charged straight towards it and crashed through one of its large windows.

Once he was through, shattered glass and screaming people were everywhere, but he could tell nobody were hurt. They were frightened, obviously, and quickly escaped his path when he strode forward. He was in a building where news were being broadcasted around the clock. Thinking back, Sephiroth should probably have waited until the afternoon or something like it, so that there were more watchers. He wanted to get out of London soon, though – before another maid tried to lock herself into his hotel room to offer room service. Where was the "Do not disturb" sign when he needed one?

Clearing his mind, Sephiroth marched straight to the floor and the room in which the news were being broadcasted. They were going live.

Perfect.

Now, of course, if Sephiroth had chosen to wear his usual clothes and appear on television, he would never again be left in peace, no matter where he decided to live in the future. Therefore, he had effectively equipped himself with more normal clothing. Only Shinra would be able to tell that it was him. That said, his new, temporary appearance was not something he particularly enjoyed.

Paige was about to switch to a more exciting channel when something interesting happened. The two news anchors seemed genuinely terrified for some reason. They stared past the cameras in disbelief, or perhaps confusion, which gradually grew to fear. She soon found out why.

A man stepped into the screen slowly, behind them.

"Don't turn off the cameras," said the man. The news anchors' eyes flickered, but they didn't dare to turn around.

Paige's eyes bulged. A terrorist? But he wore a formal-looking suit... Instead of a shirt, though, he had a hoodie inside the jacket. The hood effectively covered the man's head and face, except his jaw, mouth and nose. Was this a trick, some sort of show? The man was tall and looked almost as muscular as Sephiroth. Paige's eyes snapped to the sofa spot Sephiroth used to sit in and watch the news, then mentally slapped herself for thinking of it. For a second she thought the man on the TV looked like Sephiroth, but thought better of it. The news channel was broadcasting from England somewhere. Sephiroth couldn't possibly have gotten to England overnight. Not from here, from Canada's bushes, with no car and no intention to use his money anywhere Shinba or Chinra or whoever it was could trace him.

The overly suspicious news broadcast-hijacker-man-person spoke.

"I'm only here to inform my former superiors that they're making a mistake, trying to trace me," the man on the TV said, slowly and deliberately, his voice all smooth and velvety. The black suit and the gray hood fit him, Paige figured, and mentally slapped herself again. What if he was really dangerous? What was he planning? Her eyes were glued to the screen, and her ears must be thrice their usual size, she felt. But, that voice...

"...I still have the Black Materia," he continued, even quieter this time. The two news anchors beside him looked like they were peeing their pants.

"Takin' chances. I got my eye on you," declared John Smoth, leaning forward to look at the TV screen too. He rustled his feathers.

"Shh," Paige urged, but there was no need, apparently, because suddenly the hooded man seemed to be in a hurry to leave.

Security guards ran after him off the screen, and the last they saw of the escaping man was a smirk. Paige rose to her feet, immensely annoyed that she couldn't see what was going on behind the cameras. She was just about to switch to another news channel to see if they were already on the spot outside the building, but stopped. Four different mini-screens appeared on her small television. One screen showed the two news anchors, who were now busy commenting like crazy. The second and third screen showed the building from the outside, from different angles – on one side of the building she saw a broken window. The last screen showed the broken window from the inside.

Then another window broke on the side of the building as something crashed through it – a black ball or object.

Paige sat on her knees in front of her tiny flat screen television, everything about school forgotten.

"Holy calamity! Scream insanity!" screeched John Smoth, flapping his wings this time.

The thing that had practically erupted through the newly broken window was the hooded man.
And now, that man was flying all over the place.

Flying.

"Unholy freaking crap," she muttered. A movie trick. A commercial for Pepsi or Coke or something. It just had to be.

"Shut yar mouth," commanded the parrot, in a voice very much like that of her mother, although her quiet mother would never say something like that.

Sephiroth had never seen this many wide, round eyes, nor had he ever been given this much attention. He also wasn't so sure if it was smart for this many helicopters to be crowded in the small airspace around him. In between the helicopters used by news broadcasters, he had even spotted a military helicopter, which only pleased him more. He was holding his hood down with a hand, but just in case it flew off during his windy escape, he'd purchased a large beanie. Despite himself, he'd swallowed his pride and stuffed his hair in it to hide it. The suit he was wearing felt unusual and not comfortable to fly in, but there was no helping it.

With no more hesitation, he maneuvered in between buildings at top speed – none of the helicopters stood a chance in their pursuit.

Once he was certain he'd shaken them off, he raced back to the hotel to pick up his things. They were many, though, and heavy. He stood in the bedroom for some seconds, thinking. As his gaze fell on the bed, he had an idea. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Sephiroth tore the bed sheets off the bed and decided to use only the one that had covered his duvet. The duvet clothing worked as an even bigger "bag" than the large plastic trash bag he already had for his money. Before long, all his money, his new and old clothes, and his items were in said duvet sheet. Sephiroth wished it were another color, such as for instance black, rather than being covered by expensive white-on-black baroque-style patterns.

Nothing of his was left behind for others to trace.

He left through a window and was out of London in a matter of minutes. Needless to say, he was rather visible carrying the full duvet sheet. It slowed him down as well. If he moved too fast, the sheet would undoubtedly be torn asunder. To add to that, with all the people of London in the streets, it was only a matter of seconds before somebody took a picture of him with a cellphone and sent it to the first news agency they could think of.

Sephiroth raced straight up in the air, side by side with the countless looming buildings and skyscrapers. Moving vertically at high speed, he continued straight up, heading for the clouds. Helicopters followed him from below.

At that he uttered a short laugh, smirking briefly before he plunged into the cold, wet clouds. Instead of breaking through them to bask in the morning sun on the other side – and becoming an open target for all the helicopters – he fled southeast. He was already soaked, and he had no doubt a lot of the things in the duvet sheet were wet as well. At least the money were still protected by the plastic bags. His leather coat was worse off. As for the suit, hooded sweatshirt and hat he wore, he could not care less.

Now for the next step of his plan. He was going to try to shake off the remnants. Just as they knew his location, he could pinpoint theirs. Their presence was weaker than his by far, though, so he would have to put in some effort.

Then he would return to his Masamune.

Paige groaned with exasperation.

Just when the news channel helicopters thought they had lost the hooded man, he appeared again, carrying a stuffed black- and white-patterned duvet. Then the guy simply flew up into the clouds and vanished. After that, several news anchors on several different news channels had cursed the clouds and blamed the weather for the man's successful escape.

"Damn, must feel good to be a gangsta'," said a certain bird. Paige sent him an accusing glare.

The news of the flying man became known worldwide in a matter of hours. There were already enormous rewards waiting for whoever knew where he might be. People everywhere speculated about where he was from, who he had been talking about during the news broadcast, and even what he was. Some claimed he was an alien, others claimed he was some sort of angel, others again insisted that human experimentation had to be the explanation. What on earth was this Black Materia he spoke of, some asked, and how did the 'former superiors' fit into the picture?

Of course, the news reached Shinra as well.

The few remnants who were still out there, those who hadn't yet been caught at borders, train stations, airports and whatnot, had turned in the direction of London.

Hojo was both thoroughly pleased and furious at the same time – he felt very smug about the uproar Sephiroth had caused, but he also knew it was going to be difficult to get him back to Shinra, to Russia, when he was this healthy. His wounds had healed well. To add to it all, he had openly challenged Shinra.

Sunday evening, Paige was a wreck of nerves. She half lay, half sat in the two-seat sofa in the living room, her nails digging into the leather seats. There were no milk products left in the house. Now the television was off, and the news about the flying man were temporarily forgotten (by her, at least), as she was quite preoccupied with thinking about the next day.

The good things were that now she knew a little karate, which she could use to threaten (at least verbally) the school princess' loyal subordinates. If the need arose, she could use it against Solomon too. That would be difficult, though, since he was a more skilled than her in karate. By far.

The bad things... They were many. First off, last year's (and most likely this year's) school princess had made Paige her eternal enemy because Solomon hung around her too much. Second, Solomon was too kind and nice for her to be rude in return, because if she did, he'd feel hurt and all his fangirls (and the school princess' subordinates) would be furious with her. Third, she'd have to convince her P.E. teacher that she was able to attend Physical Education classes, despite her own father's vigorous attempts to explain that she had anemia and couldn't handle physical exertion at all. Fourth on the list, her anemia might become troublesome in more than one way no matter what she tried to do. Fifth, it was a looong way to school: she either had to use her feet, or her ancient and rusty bike, or the 200 percent overcrowded, overloaded Bus of Doom (always starring Solomon, fangirls and other frightening creatures).

She breathed in slowly, then sighed so deeply John Smoth rustled his feathers in a goosebumps-like fashion.

"I got my eye on you," he squawked.

"Mhm," sounded her response.

"I would be ashamed if I were not aware of that by now," said a third person. Paige started and jumped to her feet and swirled around, her face quickly locking in a dark, bored, sick-looking mask at the sound of the voice she had come to known so well the last couple of weeks.

"You," she said simply – not exactly the warmest of greetings. Sephiroth was still wearing his leather clothes, which seemed oddly damp. Other than the dampness, he looked just like he'd looked when he left. He was still tall, still wore black leather, his dark silver hair was still long, and he still had muscles. Looking at his face, she also recognized (without difficulties) the daggers that were his eyes.

He'd no doubt come for his sword.

R.R.

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