Chapter 45 - A Weapon, Promised and Delivered
May, 1991
I did it. I completed high school early.
Sephiroth reads back the text that he sent Rafi ten minutes ago. It's been read but like everything else he's sent, it goes unanswered. He leans back in his chair and stretches before looking at the clock. It's past four in the morning again. He shouldn't be so used to seeing that time. The headache pounds in the back of his head. It's not left him for days. The throb is part of him now. It's the cost for what he's done.
His phone buzzes and he eyes it. Orlin tells him to come over tomorrow after PR stuff for drinks. He is apparently an adult now.
Sephiroth sighs and stretches. He won't bother to correct him. There is one more step left in graduating. He has to walk across that stage and officially earn his diploma. The paper will be in his hand.
Then this life will end and the next one will start.
He should feel like celebrating but his back is too sore. Clarence booked him for events nonstop after Shinra deemed him recovered. It delayed him finishing the remaining homework. That is why it has taken more time.
Sephiroth has been calm in front of the camera, urging civilians to join the war efforts and assuring them that the victory is well in hand. He doesn't know if it is close to true. Each interview is carefully crafted and sometimes rehearsed. Recently, Sephiroth learned to laugh on cue. It isn't his laugh. This one is cold and low in his throat. It is supposed to sound deadly.
A higher percentage of women than ever before have been enlisting.
Clarence gives him a knowing smile when it is announced at the end of the month wrap up.
Sephiroth doesn't like to think about it. They don't advertise that women aren't allowed to enter SOLDIER. It's a strict rule by Professor Hojo. If they are coming to be with him, they are going to be disappointed with behind the line or administrative jobs. The rule is not up to him and he has express orders not to say anything about it on camera.
The chair creaks under him and he looks at the last sent email. The last paper was a compare and contrast paper for his literature class. Hopefully, Rafi has been doing well without him. He's tried to see her but she's made herself elusive.
One of his many texts has explained the nature of confidential information, information confidential to him. He has decided that he can't imagine telling someone what happened. The paragraph long text is not good enough for her. It is one of the few times that she did respond back with laser quickness.
Confidential or not, can you just tell me that something different happened?
It is a slippery slope. If he says yes to that, slowly but surely, the rest will come. His I wish I could tell you turns into her disappearing again.
Still, he tries to be happy as he crosses the room to his bed. The spark in him is so small that it doesn't ignite. It gutters in exhaustion.
All that hard work amounts into this quietness. No one is here to celebrate with him. When he tells Mariella, she will give him a relieved smile. Orlin will hug him and do his best but even then, Sephiroth will see the stress of the brink of war on him. Rafi isn't even answering her phone.
He sets his alarm for seven and crawls under the sheets. All he has to be is a body at school. Maybe he will try to make it a goal to stay awake the whole time.
In the darkness, the pressure works against his head. War is coming. He will be out there. He will be killing. Shinra will be watching to see if they have picked the right golden boy. Can he do it? Will Dinand be right? Can he even take another's life like that? The unknown stretches beyond him in the blackness of his vision until it swallows him whole.
Director Lazard calls him for a meeting a week later.
Even though Sephiroth knows what it means, it takes hearing the words to impact him.
"Sephiroth," Lazard says calmly from across his desk, "The situation is changing. Wutai has started building equipment that could take down ships. They are becoming more aggressive the more that we push them. War is going to come quickly."
Sephiroth nods. Nothing crosses his face. He's been preparing for this.
"And even worse, because we have been stalling, Wutai spies have bleed us dry. They work on Shinra staff. The desertion rate has never been higher and now they are taking things with them. Even with the Turks working around the clock, the recovery rate is 80%. We need to move forward and soon. SOLDIER needs you to start preparing now. I'm calling you for duty."
Sephiroth fights himself, holding his chin high to keep the fear from rising into his eyes. The signs have been coming. Why is he still surprised?
"Luckily, you have completed your high school requirements early. Congratulations." Lazard smiles. "I don't think I know another person who could have done everything besides you. Especially given your last month."
"Thank you, sir." He tries to take in the praise but it falls away.
Dinand is smiling behind Lazard. He's not there but Sephiroth can see him anyway. Sephiroth hasn't earned these words. Dinand forced him into them. The man took away the normal teenager and shaped him into someone that Shinra wants to send to the front line.
He's their weapon.
As promised.
Sephiroth hates it.
"Since your high school education is complete. We'll take you out of school. The rest of this week you will be briefed on the current situation. Expect to be on a plane to meet your men by Thursday."
"Thursday? Of this week?" Sephiroth asks too quickly.
Lazard wakes up his computer. "Yes, the date is the 23rd."
Sephiroth swallows. "I'm signed up to graduate on Saturday, the 25th, sir."
His heart rate ticks up. He pushes it down. He doesn't need an episode on top of everything else. The drugs have been working well but stress makes them less efficient.
Lazard hums and reviews a report on his desk. "It's been reported that you've already received your final grades and submitted them to us."
"Yes, but I need to graduate, to cross the stage, to get the diploma." Something new comes into his voice. It's tinny and high. He hates to hear it.
The director's head tilts. "Well, yes, there is always a ceremony but we can send you a copy of the diploma from here if you'd like. It's not necessary to the war effort to have you participate in graduation itself. PR didn't want to focus on your education. It makes the public more comfortable with you, not knowing that you are seventeen."
Sephiroth's fingers weave through each other in his lap. The mask falters. He's not going to make it. They're going to send him early. He tries to take a breath through his tight chest. No suit. No gown. No person calling his name. No cheering. No dinner at a special restaurant after. It's falling through his fingers.
The last piece of his life is taken away. He can't argue. This is his commanding superior. He's a SOLDIER. He's not a teen anymore. He's not his own anymore.
"I understand," he says and breathes evenly, the only thing he can concentrate on. Anything else might send the house of cards falling down.
Lazard's blue eyes flicker between him and the computer screen showing his file. Sephiroth tries to sit tall in his seat. His knuckles have gone white. Dinand smiles in a sick curl in his imagination and the Sephiroth blinks him away. His stomach moves threateningly.
"Does the ceremony itself mean something significant to you?" Lazard asks it neutrally but the question tightens the vice grip on Sephiroth's throat. He should say no. It is his obligation to say no. As a SOLDIER, he works for Shinra. He is being paid to do exactly what they say without any complaint. His conviction wobbles.
He looks at the blacked out screens behind the director. The view outside says nothing. Cars move on the highway in precise lines. He needs to say no. Graduation shouldn't mean anything to him. He's suffered through it, stayed up late for it, worked too hard for it. He should be ready to get rid of it.
But the thought of not getting to walk across that stage breaks him in two.
It hurts and he hasn't slept.
"It does mean something significant to me." Sephiroth pauses, surprised by his own words, and recomposes himself. "It's the first thing…I've accomplished on my own."
He's ready for the reprimand.
He is being childish. He is being dumb. He should understand the priorities of the situation that they are in. How dare he put his own needs in front of the company's?
No words come. Lazard's expression doesn't change as he leans back, thinking. Sephiroth desperately wants to apologize. He doesn't. Apologies are a form of weakness. Lazard's fingers tent near his face and those eyes look like he is organizing everything that he could say.
Sephiroth thinks about making eye contact but it is too confrontational. He examines the lines on the back of his monitor. Lazard still stares at him. It'll be only a few more minutes until he would say that he is going to send him off anyways. He'll get the diploma. That should be satisfactory. It would have to be.
"I'm going to make a call. Can you step out?"
Sephiroth stands and nods automatically. His body leaves the room without him. He feels like he hovers in that question until he's sitting in the small personal receptionist's office. Slowly, he returns to himself as he stares at the blank screen of his phone. The secretary has his phone to his cheek. He can't remember if the chair made noise or if the door had clicked behind him.
What does that mean? Lazard is making a call?
A more sinister thought comes to him. Did he just say no to the Director of SOLDIER? The word itself hadn't left him but the sentiment was the same. It sent a shiver down him. He had to be more careful. If he wasn't a good SOLDIER, they might send him on a suicide mission like they tried with Orlin. They might kick him out of the program. Doubtful but he couldn't put anything past Shinra.
The secretary's eyes flicker to him and barely Sephiroth can hear the phone chatter with two voices. The secretary presses a button and hangs up.
Lazard is talking with someone about him and his foolishness.
Maybe they will demote him before he starts.
The secretary is in his thirties and is too old to give any idea of what is happening. Instead he writes a note on a pad of paper and goes back to sporadically typing on his computer. A cup of coffee steams next to him. Sephiroth shifts in the chair. He will remain calm. His phone goes in his hand and he checks his texts. Rafi hasn't sent him anything. He mulls over sending her the news but he can't quite believe it yet himself.
He will be leaving soon.
Even knowing that it is coming doesn't make it easier.
He has been out of Midgar but that doesn't help. This will be a war. He will be a First. The responsibilities will be enormous.
A light flashes on the desk in front of him.
"He's ready for you." The secretary moves and buzzes the door.
Sephiroth hurries back. The handle is heavier as he pulls it and goes in. Lazard's chair is empty. He pauses. Glasses clink and he finds Lazard to his left pouring himself a drink from a cabinet. His shoulders are loose and he smiles at Sephiroth from the side.
"Take a seat. I'll be there in a moment. Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine."
It is strange to see the man doing something so normal. He has always seen him giving orders or directing the department. There is a rumor that he never sleeps or eats. He is always working and making sure to direct with an ease that comes with being on the job. He wants to have that feeling. He needs to work as hard as Lazard. Perhaps he can have that effortlessness too. Sephiroth realizes that he is standing staring at Lazard filling his glass.
Before he can turn away, Lazard catches him and his eyebrows raise.
"I suppose you are eager for the answer," He says smoothly and takes a drink before leaning back against the cabinet. "We still need you in the West. This week, you will be briefed. Since SOLDIER and R&D work in conjunction with you, I had to call them. I needed Dr. Haynes approval."
This is going to come down to Mariella. Sephiroth's mouth goes dry. She should say yes but she's been so proud of him for joining the active efforts.
"She said yes. A few days will not break us at this point and several generals are already working the troops. There are small skirmishes along the outer borders but the true war has yet to begin. You can leave Sunday morning but I expect you to work hard in the meantime."
Mariella said yes. It makes sense but the weight lifts off his shoulder. She already promised to go to his graduation. She's also said they've got reservations at a fancy restaurant with a private room so Sephiroth doesn't have to worry about the press. Orlin has already hinted on a present.
Sephiroth can't help the smile on his face. His knees go jello. It's a warm relief for him. He's going to be able to complete his dream. The hard work he put in will mean something more than just a diploma sent through the mail. He gets to be cheered at not for being a First Class or representing SOLDIER. He will get a moment that he earned for himself.
He shouldn't be smiling.
He's a professional but Lazard's face breaks into a small smile before he takes a drink.
Lazard waves. "Please don't believe that requests like this will be fulfilled again but I have seen how hard you have been working-"
The phone rings. Lazard frowns.
"One moment. Sorry. He wouldn't send anything through unless it was important."
Sephiroth wouldn't have minded anything at this point.
Lazard takes the call half leaning on his desk. The glass gets set down immediately. His eyes flicker to Sephiroth as the voice on the other end comes through. It is smooth and cold. Sephiroth can't hear words but he knows it anyway. Invisible needles prick his skin as he moves quietly to the guest chair. He doesn't sit in it. He can't do that. His fingers work the leather on the back. The voice continues to berate Lazard.
Tension fills Lazard and finally Professor Hojo's voice stops.
"Of course."
The line goes dead.
Lazard studies the back of the phone.
"He's sending me to the front." Sephiroth can't wait. If this is where they are going, he needs to know now.
Lazard winces and sighs. "Professor Hojo needs to see how a SOLDIER of your caliber does on the battlefield so he can adjust the exposure of the in-progress SOLDIERs."
Sephiroth's anger doesn't reach his face. It pools in his stomach, livid and wild. If that is the truth, they would have sent him weeks ago.
"You leave in the morning and are going directly into one of the conflict points. Your first battle will be tomorrow."