A/N:
Okay, it has been a while, hasn't it? Well, I updated! Hope you all enjoy and review.
Rating (Chapter): PG-13 (Language)
Word Count: 3,071
Disclaimer: To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."
Not Again!
By Catsitta
Chapter two: Life as he knew it
It was nearly a week before Doctor Fields released Sephiroth from the medical ward, and in that week he came to single conclusion.
He was not hallucinating.
To say the least, the feared General now turned Cadet, was far from pleased with his situation. He was small, skinny and long-limbed—adolescence personified—with big, child-like eyes (that were green, but lacking a slitted pupil) and scarcely a hint of muscle tone. A cast immobilized his left (and dominant) arm. And for some reason he could not stop tripping over his damn feet as he walked!
After the umpteenth misstep and awkward sprawl against the wall to regain his balance, Sephiroth was ready to start cussing for all he was worth. Pushing back his shortened, silver bangs, the swordsman once again set out on his journey to Strife's office. At some point, he his mind and body would sync up, right? After all, before this whole 'time travel', 'role swapping' incident, he was the epitome of grace and skill. Something like that came naturally…or at least, he thought it did.
As his feet determinedly tried to tangle up yet again, Sephiroth began to question that assumption. And upon hearing a snide voice bark from behind him, he began to doubt the very instincts that once made him a demon of war.
"Still can't walk straight, can you Valentine?"
Turning his head slightly, the ex-General saw a group of boys presumably his age, each wearing a Cadet uniform and a feral grin. Quickly, he analyzed the situation, weighed the odds and realized, for once, he was at a severe disadvantage. This new body of his was weak, klutzy and injured. For Gaia's sake, he could hardly walk! And the boys that stalked closer looked to be the stereotypical, testosterone heavy cannon fodder that liked hitting things repeatedly for no apparent reason.
Unfortunately, those brutes he was used to looking down upon or even ignoring, had all sights set on him. He was the spindly fawn standing motionless before a pack of hungry wolves…no, a pack of hungry mountain lions. Felines liked to play with their food before devouring it—savoring in the thrill of the chase as well as the kill. These boys, because for all their hulking frames, were just that, boys—children in the grand scheme of things—were looking to play with some weak victim before they left him bruised and unconscious in the hallway. But in the world of war, children died, consumed by the battle. Only men survived, standing tall amongst the fallen.
Bullies were not men. Never would be.
So Sephiroth straightened himself, lifted his chin and turned to face the gang that stood mere feet behind him. Looking weak or frightened would only incite action, and in his current condition, action of any sort was the last thing he needed.
"Leave now," he commanded darkly,"or you will regret it."
The biggest of the boys, a sandy-blond with thick chest and a trace of a beard, allowed his grin to sour into a smirk. "What exactly would you do, Valentine, hit me? Go ahead. Last I checked you couldn't even bruise little, pasty-face girl." His 'friends'—of whom there were four in total—snickered. "Or, wait, maybe you'll sic your daddy on me. Mr. Big-and-Scary that works for the company." The boy then added over one shoulder, "Who wants to bet he made up having a father working for ShinRa? Or if he does, he's just another bastard son that the man doesn't know exists."
Sephiroth visibly bristled. A father who works for the company? That left a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the implications. Did it mean his own father, from his previous life and world, abandoned him to Hojo's hands when he was but an infant? Where was his mother then? Jenova. Wait, no, she wasn't his mother. She was just another one of the Professor's lies. But still, who were his parents? And damn it, who the hell was Valentine?
"Ooh, I think I touched a sore spot, now didn't I?" The laughter that followed grated against Sephiroth's nerves. In fact, he was so annoyed, that this boy and his friends were put at the top of his list to die people, right above Doctor Fields and right below Cloud. Yes, he still wanted to maim the blond and spread his entrails from side of the continent to the other—nothing wrong with that. After all, he never had his chance to successfully squash the little pest once and for all; no, rather the little hero had to go and get himself killed in a motorcycle crash of all things!
Disappointments aplenty.
But, killing Cloud was a task for a later date. At this present point in time, survival seemed to be key. Hefting up his cast-heavy arm, the silver-haired warrior did his best to drop into a well-balanced fighting stance. There was no way he was going to go down without a fight or let himself be injured at the heed of some teenage bully.
"Hey look. Valentine is all riled up, now aint he?"
"I told you, leave me be." If only his voice would stop cracking. It was much easier to be intimidating when one's pitch did not skip from one octave to another at odd intervals.
"Now why would we do that? All we want to do is welcome you back from the mission and congratulate you for surviving." The gang of boys began to make a steady approach, their mouthy leader wearing his malicious intent like a mask.
Everything fell silent for the briefest of moments—making the air thick and heavy.
Suddenly, the tension broke with a loud CRACK as Sephiroth's cast connected with the first bully's jaw. Pain ricocheted up his arm, but the silver-haired warrior ignored it, long since accustomed to trudging through debilitating injury. He recovered as gracefully as possible, keeping on his feet for the first time today, and made to hit the boy again with his free hand.
Unfortunately, his one shot was gone and his no longer mako-enhanced reflexes were just too slow. The boys swarmed him, making loud taunts as they rained down a flurry of blows that brought him to his knees.
Surprised by his own failure, Sephiroth hesitated as he was hefted to his feet and dragged into a side hallway. Before he could even wonder what was going on, the bully leader stood before him, sneering despite his swollen, bleeding mouth and bruised jaw. "Make him kneel." The teen growled and Sephiroth found himself thrown onto his hands and knees. Fingers curled violently in his silver locks, pulling sharply up. "Look at me, bitch."
Bitch? Who in Gaia's name did this brat think he was dealing with? He was Sephiroth, the great one-winged angel and harbinger of death. It was he who summoned Meteor. He who nearly destroyed the Planet. It was he who almost ascended into godhood! He was nobody's bitch.
Clutching his cast close against his chest, the silver-haired warrior attempted to stand, only to have a booted foot plant itself between his shoulder blades. The weight was more than his one, non-dominant arm could handle, but Sephiroth held fast. He refused to break, though his muscles screamed in protest and threatened to give out from beneath him without permission.
"Think you're tough, do you?"
"I am the only survivor of my last mission," Sephiroth pointed out with strained sarcasm. "Counts for something."
A scowl overcame the teen's features and he twisted the clump of hair he gripped in his fist. "Shut up. I didn't say you could talk, now did I?"
Sephiroth responded by spitting into the bully's face. He was much too close, after all, if he was able to do so. Seeing look of sheer rage that overcame the teen's features was well worth having his own jaw slammed against the metal floor. Then again, with the world spinning, it was rather hard to orient himself in the hallway and see all the possible plans of attack his enemy might make.
Fully prepared to be yanked up again by his hair and beaten to an inch of this body's death, for whatever reason, Sephiroth was mildly confused when his hair was abruptly released and the weight on his back lifted. Well, that was until he heard another voice from the past. A voice belonging to none other than Zack Fair.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"S-sir! W-what are…I mean…" the bully stammered.
"All of you, names and rank, now!"
It took five minutes, but the Cadets divulged their names, rank and a great deal of other information that no one cared about. Much of it was idolizing garble that Sephiroth grew used to and learned to overlook in his days as General.
After they were all shut up and sent on their way (to be dealt with appropriately by their commanding officer), Zack came to crouch beside him and carefully helped him to his feet. Knowing he could not be in the best of shape, Sephiroth allowed for his hair to shroud his face. It was humiliating to be this powerless…to be this physically weak. He could never remember being overcome by an untrained group of children before.
He was a weapon crafted for war…he could cull armies with sweep of his arm and smirk. There were days where he and Masamune bathed in the blood of the enemy as they danced a dance as old as mankind itself. That of man and his weapon, the very tool that was an extension of his inner and physical self.
But…he was not that person anymore. He was just some kid. Some faceless, nameless trooper. A weak, awkward Cadet. He was…he was like Cloud Strife from the years before he became the world hero. Just another reason to hate the new General. A tally mark on a list a mile long.
"You okay kid?" What was everyone's obsession with calling him kid? At the very youngest, he had to be at least fourteen. The military was strict about the age requirements, the only exception being himself since he had been born into the company to be a SOLDIER. So if he was no longer the exception…
"I'm fine."
A gentle hand lifted his chin and bright, aquamarine eyes peered into his own of green.
"No, you're not, kid." Zack said,"So, you know the drill…Name, rank and what the hell happened."
"Sephiroth Valentine, SOLDIER Cadet…as for what happened, I'm not quite sure. I left the medical wing at o'six hundred hours in order to report to the General for debriefing. The other Cadets intercepted and then proceeded to assault me. Their motivation for attack is, as of yet, unknown."
Zack blinked and scratched his head,"Damn. You really are Valentine's kid, aren't you?"
"What are you trying to imply…sir?" Sephiroth noted the blue First Class uniform the other was wearing and knew that he had to refer to him as a superior officer…for now. From what he could recall, Zack was only sixteen when he received his promotion to First—the youngest in history aside from himself. In many ways, that youth showed. From the disarray of raven-spikes that made him look like a hedgehog, to the boyish wonder that always over took his features, to the confused sense of what's right and what's honorable he no doubt likely still possessed.
"Well. Just that you're like your father. Met him once, heard he had a kid in the military and wondered what that kid was like. Looks like I found out, huh?" Zack grinned.
"Do stop referring to me as 'kid'. I have a name, sir." It came out as a growl. How he hated dealing with the idiocy of mortals.
"Oh…sorry." His grin never faded. "Didn't mean anything by it, Seph."
Seph. How long had it been since anyone had called him that? It cowed Sephiroth's anger rather quickly, leaving the ex-General feeling empty, almost lost. He never knew many people who dared to call him by the shortened version of his name. There had only been three. Genesis, Angel and Zack. His three friends…his only friends…friends he no longer had… No, no longer needed, he corrected, but for some reason, the statement felt empty.
"Seph? You okay?" Zack, in his usual, overly touchy-feely self, placed both hands on either of Sephiroth's shoulders. "Oh…right! You don't feel comfortable with your superior officer calling you that. So how about this, you call me Zack and we'll call it even. I hate all those 'sirs' anyway. Makes me feel old."
Blankly, Sephiroth stared at the raven-haired teen. How could he have possibly forgotten how insufferably chummy Zack had been? Nothing discouraged him, not even threats and regular thrashings in combat. The SOLDIER was just a bouncy ball of energy and joy that liked bounding into everyone's life. He was the kind of person determined to make even the most stubborn and anti-social of individuals his friend. And, he was good at it. Very good.
"Here, let me help you back to the medical wing. You don't look so good."
"I am to report to the General." His words sounded hollow even in his own ears.
"Fine. You report and then go back to the hospital. I'll make sure you make it there and back safe."
"I don't need anyone to protect me."
Zack's smile hardened into something thoughtful, analytical, concerned.
"What kind of friend would I be to let you wander off alone in the shape you're in?"
And with that, there was no room for argument as the First latched onto Sephiroth's good arm and began to pull him in the direction of General Cloud Strife's office.
000X000
"Lieutenant." Cloud looked vaguely surprised when Zack burst into the room with Sephiroth in tow. "And Cadet."
"Hey Spike. Found myself a lonely Cadet looking for you."
"I see…leave us Lieutenant."
Zack chuckled, yanked the silver-haired teen behind him and proceeded to dump Sephiroth in one chair and sprawl out in another. "You should know better than that, Spike."
A tiny smile formed on Cloud's lips,"I can still hope that one day I will not regret promoting you." Then, the smile disappeared as he turned his sights on Sephiroth. There was something piercing about those feline, mako-tainted blue eyes. "Valentine. You appear to have obtained a few injuries since our last meeting."
"Some kids in his class jumped him on his way here," Zack cut in before Sephiroth even had a chance to speak. "I caught them before any lasting damage could be done."
"I see…" The blond General made an interested sound, but did not press the issue further. "You know why you are here, Cadet. Tell me what you remember."
"Nothing, sir." And that was the truth. "I recall no explosion, no mission or…anything actually. Who I am, aside from my name, is lost to me as well."
Cloud sighed,"Figures as much. The one person capable of telling us if AVALANCHE was involved in the attacks cannot remember his own date of birth…"
"Afraid not, sir."
"Do you remember which room in barracks you live in at least?"
"No."
"What program you are enrolled in?"
"SOLDIER I believe."
"Where you were born?"
"…Midgar?"
Cloud gave Sephiroth a strange look and shook his head.
"As much as I hate to say it, Valentine, I'm putting you on leave until you remember at least basic personal information. If you cannot remember those facts, then I loathe to think of what you can recall of basic training."
"Wait! I'll fall behind in my classes." Sephiroth exclaimed, knowing he needed some plausible excuse to stay right where he was. After all, his physical body needed training even if his mind was still that of the best General to ever lead ShinRa's army. That, and if he was on leave, then he would have to exit the compound until it was over. Where would he live? With a cast on one arm, no mako and no weapon—he would be killed.
"I am not retracting my decision, Valentine. In fact," Cloud motioned at Zack, "please inform Tseng that Vincent's son is here."
Vincent's son? Valentine…That meant…His father was Vincent Valentine? The very Vincent Valentine that joined the little hero in his quest to save the Planet? How had he not made the connection before…but that…it was impossible!
Too busy having his brain short circuit from the sudden realization he had made, Sephiroth never noticed Zack leave. Nor did he notice when the door opened again, two pairs of feet echoing against the floor rather than one. It was not until an unfamiliar hand fell upon his shoulder that he broke from his hazy denial.
Flicking his eyes up, he found himself staring into the face of a man he hated for his mere association with Cloud. Crimson orbs met his gaze steadily. What in Gaia's name was going on? And what was Sephiroth supposed to do? How was he supposed to react?
"Sephiroth." Vincent murmured in his deep, half-there voice. "Come. It's time to go home."
"No."
Another hand, just as human as the other instead of encased in a gauntlet of gold, came to rest on his other shoulder.
"You will continue your training here at a later date. Now, come. I do not have time to play games."
"It's okay, Seph. When you come back, I'll make sure you're all caught up in no time! Promise." Zack chimed in, but his attempts to break the tension failed.
After all, it was not every day that one learns his father is a Turk.
With great reluctance, Sephiroth stood, realizing that he did not quite match his supposed sire in height. Rather, he fell about three inches short, placing his own stature at that of five foot nine.
"I'll hold you to that, Zack." The silver warrior said, his voice soft with discomfort, his eyes never leaving Vincent's.
The Turk nodded curtly to him and to the SOLDIERs in the room before turning and walking away.
Cloud was already absorbed by some document or another and was shuffling through papers on his desk. Zack waved meekly before going to stand beside the General to point out various lines of interest. Alone, in many senses of the word, Sephiroth did as he was told and followed Vincent.
A/N: (Review please! Also, still looking for a beta. Always looking for a beta it seems…)