Chapter 49 - Finding Himself
September, 1991
Sephiroth stares at the meeting room door that stands between him and the new transfers. This is the last performance of the day. After this, he could go to his quarters. No eyes, no expectations, just the various reports that needed to flow out of him. He could stare at a wall as he did it. No one read what he wrote anyways.
Tomorrow will be more bloodshed.
But that is tomorrow and not today and he has learned to limp forward one day at a time. It's the only way to keep the pain at bay.
Twenty men wait inside the meeting room. Shinra shifts men around, trying to keep Midgar safe and being aggressive enough on the front line. The problem is that SOLDIERs and infantry kept dying.
Healing materia is in constant use but the causality number keeps rising. Nothing can stop it. These men would die as well. That thought hangs around his neck dragging him to a point of breaking.
The handle opens under his hand. The muttering inside cuts short. Shoes click together. Sephiroth raises his chin and walks in.
"Welcome to this part of the front line," Sephiroth says. The words used to vary but now the script is cemented in his head. He barely has to monitor himself.
The men stand in a double line. They stare at the blackboard in front of them like they have been trained. Sephiroth skates over their faces. They blend together. Determination, pride, excitement, none of it registers. Over the course of the next few weeks, he will start to pay attention to the ones that are not in the ground.
"I know training and experience has taught you the skills that you need." The words march out of him as he walks the line. Half of them have Second Class uniforms while the other half sported Third. Maybe he will see some of these people again.
"Wutai is smarter than you think. I want you to be careful and not to get cocky. I've seen men die for less." He keeps walking, intercepting hungry eyelines that pull on his hair and his clothes. They are meeting the Sephiroth, A First Class SOLDIER, the Devil of Wutai.
Sephiroth keeps a measured pace, trying to get to the other side of the room so he can turn around, walk back and leave. One SOLDIER is so excited that his finger twitches by his side. Sephiroth allows a small smile to that. The fidgeting increases but Sephiroth continues on.
He draws his eyes over the remaining set of SOLDIERs. "You will get a day to-"
The words halt out of his mouth. His toe scuffs against the tile. Sephiroth stops. He wakes up. None of the men move. Protocol keeps everything locked in place. He stares openly at the SOLDIER in the back corner. The man looks right back at him with a grin. Words bubble up in the SOLDIER's throat and he swallows them down.
The shock of what Sephiroth sees hurts. It feels like cold water has poured down his back, searing his skin. A physical shake comes through him and he blinks. Lack of sleep has gotten to him. He hopes and dreads that he is right.
He isn't.
Orlin continues to stand at attention and fight the growing smile on his face.
The familiarity stings him. He hasn't seen anything from his life in person since he left. Everything halts. What does Orlin see? Who does he see here standing in front of him? A foolish child playing dress up still? Sephiroth doesn't even know what he is wearing. It feels foolish to glance but he does before he can catch himself. It's a standard First uniform. Good.
Orlin's eyes tell him he knows everything that he is thinking.
Sephiroth's stomach drops. After their last conversation, is Orlin mad at him from escaping his questions? Is he just being polite? Is that why he is here?
The silence drags out. There are other men in the room, he remembers.
"Dismissed," Sephiroth says, "Go to mess. Eat dinner."
The SOLDIERs stay in place waiting for the rest of the speech that isn't coming for them. A few try to catch his eye but Sephiroth has no interest in them. They file out. Sephiroth stays in place. Orlin shrugs the formality but doesn't move with them. A few grumps come out of new men but the closing door muffles them.
He can't be real.
This must all be his imagination. Orlin is never coming to Wutai. He didn't want to. Sephiroth opens his mouth. The words don't come. One long whisper comes out of him instead.
Orlin walks towards him. His combat boots make noise on the ground. He's grinning stupidly. Things snap into focus: the way the uniform is new for combat duty, the line of materia running down the center of his blade, and even the one spot on the back of his cheek that he always forgets to shave.
A hand claps down on his shoulder, heavy and familiar.
Orlin is very real.
"Are you going to pass out or are you going to say hello, kid?"
The stars are the only consistent in Sephiroth's life. Even as he stares at them later that evening, they seem different. He can trace the constellations and name them as he sits on the training field later that night. The air is cold as it settles in a layer against his skin. His brain skims over all of this. It is inconsequential.
All he can focus on is the SOLDIER pulling himself up on the climbing obstacle next to him.
The field is empty at midnight and perfect for the two of them to talk privately. The classroom wasn't a good place nor did either one of them have the time. The walls have ears inside but here Sephiroth can't see anyone for a mile.
They were safe and alone.
"So I brought you a couple things," Orlin says as he sits next to him on the large wooden vault. The wood creaks. Sephiroth can't believe it. Even after knowing this information for a few hours, it takes seeing him to make sure it wasn't his imagination.
A bag appears between them. Orlin smiles like he is an old friend. Is he? Sephiroth isn't sure. He's worried so much. Still, the easy energy soaks into him. He almost wants to touch Orlin to confirm it. This could all be a dream, a cruel accumulation of stress and loneliness. Maybe his meds have stopped working.
The slats move under Sephiroth's thighs as Orlin works the zipper on the bag's top.
Orlin is in front of him. There is no denying that.
"…why are you here?" Sephiroth asks.
"It was an easy decision. I beat them to the punch really. Suckers," Orlin laughs, "Shinra is going to enlist all SOLDIERs if they want to or not and someone needs to keep an eye on you. So between me and Mariella, we were able to get me deployed here, with you."
"To keep an eye on me?"
"Kid, we were concerned. Still are." The laugh falls away in his voice. It turns soft and honest. "That's why I'm here."
Part of Sephiroth wants to ask who the "we" is. How many people does it include? How many sets of eyes are on him? It sinks heavily in his chest. He looks away at the mud and counts the grass trying to grow. He is fine. He's been doing alright. There is nothing to worry about. He shouldn't cause this kind of attention. He needs to do his job and keep his face blank. What happens in his mind doesn't matter anymore.
Orlin pokes his shoulder. "There. That . That is exactly why I am here. You and your big brain are getting yourself in too much trouble but first, this."
Two white plastic containers come out of the bag. That must have been most of what was in it because the bag collapses without them. The smell perks Sephiroth's attention. It hits him. The ginger, the clove, the sesame seed oil, these are the smells that throw him back into Orlin's apartment after a hard day.
He ignores the chuckle from Orlin as Sephiroth reaches over and peels off the lids. The Wutain noodles are hot and steam in the air.
"How did you-" Sephiroth starts.
"I make friends fast."
"It can't be from he-"
Orlin cuts him off again. "No, this is from our place. Back in Midgar. The takeout survived the flight. Somehow."
"How? SOLDIERs don't get to carry food or many personal items here." The words tumble out of him as Sephiroth takes the container, staring at something that he was never going to eat again. The plastic is warm and soft to the touch.
"Your medicine is due to come in, right?"
"In a few days." He glances up.
"So I get to deliver a 'care package'. I may have added a few things to the box. You look like a kid in a candy store. Now eat it before it gets cold. The cook took a lot of convincing to heat it back up." The container gets traded for chopsticks and Orlin sets up the other container: braised pork and rice. This is their order. This is the food that they used to get when he was a kid.
Homesickness gets him. It locks him up and throws everything out of alignment. He feels his age again. He's young and alone but suddenly not alone and that makes it worse. He is paperthin against this war. Sephiroth leans back and closes his eyes. Control waivers but wins out.
"I'm not hungry."
Orlin talks around a bite. "Yeah and I'm the president of Shinra. You are skinny. Eat."
What will tasting it do to him? The smell almost made him cry.
"I'm okay."
"Well, fine, you are going to sit here with chopsticks in your hand and watch me eat this because I know what the standard shit is like and this won't come around again."
It's true. Food has turned into a means to an end. He can't remember what was in the last few meals put in front of him. He knows he ate it and then he was no longer hungry. The food sustained him through the day. If he did not eat enough, his performance suffered. He has already eaten dinner. He doesn't need this. He can wait this one out.
Orlin does eat, saying nothing. Sephiroth finds himself swallowing and unable to ignore it. The stars only hold his attention for a moment. The reports left to write seem pointless. His stomach starts to ache. He is going to regret this opportunity. The food is terrible here. That realization strikes him as if it is a new piece of information. These containers smell like everything that he was forced to leave behind.
And he wants it.
Orlin doesn't even pause as Sephiroth leans over and pulls a few noodles out of the container. The brown sauce drips onto the obstacle underneath him. A few chopped carrots get lost. Sephiroth hurries the food along. It doesn't give him a chance to get ready. The soy sauce, the oils, the richness, it throws him back before the blood and screaming.
It almost makes him sob.
It is so familiar.
Where everything is so wrong, this hurts and fills him.
It goes down warm in him but lodges against his heart. Sephiroth goes for another bite. The effect doesn't change. Carefully, he pulls the large container closer to him. He is hungry.
He forgot food can do more than be sustenance.
Thinking slips away. He needs this.
Only when he sees part of the bottom of the large container that he remembers himself. He's been stuffing the food down like a new recruit. Orlin has stopped eating. The chopsticks are balanced out on his thigh. His eyes staring in the direction of Wutai. A few insects sing off in the distance.
Sephiroth's stomach aches but he only slows down and eventually stops. His chopsticks click against the plastic rim as he sets them down.
"Better?" Orlin asks without looking.
Sephiroth realizes he is better. He's more settled, more solid, more of himself next to Orlin. Even at night, the bad memories hold less weight. Orlin leans over and snags a piece of pork. He glances up at him.
"Well, you look better."
"I was fine."
That earns him a half laugh. "Come on, let's walk it off. Plus I need to get killing off my mind. It's been a while since I've been fighting Wutai."
Orlin shoves off, landing on the packed ground. He packs the food back in the bag and starts walking. Sephiroth doesn't get a chance to argue. It's odd to be told what to do. He's been leading so much. It's a relief almost to not make a decision. Dropping to the ground jolts his stomach. How did he eat so much?
They walk the instructor path around the obstacles. They don't talk. Sephiroth keeps checking, still in partial disbelief. The gravel crunches under their feet. They should go back to base to rest and prepare for the attack tomorrow. There have been so many that Sephiroth struggles to remember the specifics. Was this the attack on the supply chain? No. That was a few days ago now.
Sephiroth shakes his head.
"I saw a few cute nurses coming in," Orlin says on their second lap. He eyes him sideways. "A couple cute guys too. Don't you hate how quickly mako heals?"
Sephiroth pushes his hands in his pockets. "There isn't time for such things."
It's true. He's been so overwhelmed. He hasn't looked. He hasn't thought to. The only connection he has kept up is with Rafi. How could he make a romantic connection with anybody when his hands are getting soaked with so much blood?
"Oh. There is always time for such things."
"Not to me."
"Well, alright."
They fall back into silence. Orlin hasn't dated to his knowledge. He has barely spoken about Professor Gast or any other person. It's always been about Sephiroth and the touch is always light.
The walking clears the pain in his stomach. The companionship makes everything less. The strain in his back unrolls. The clouds clear from his mind. He sees his actions and the bodies that have been piling up on both sides. He can list all the reasons that he was the one that put them there.
The base starts to come into view as they naturally circle back to it.
"Orlin," Sephiroth says and hates the shake that he hears.
He stops a few feet in front of him and has to turn back to see him. "Yeah?"
Sephiroth holds the words in his chest. The ones that tell him how many people he has killed and how he should feel bad for it but can't seem to find the way. How part of him whispers inside how good it is to end another's life. How complicated everything is now. How this war has been the best and worst thing that has happened. How he is losing himself. How he is finding himself.
"Thanks for coming," Sephiroth says.
Orlin waits. A second of concern breaks across his smile before it disappears. Then he comes closer, digging in his pocket. "I got something else for you. It was supposed to be a graduation present and then I was thinking of sending it to you for your eighteenth birthday but when I found out that I would be coming early, I decided that now was the right time."
A white materia comes out of his pocket. "I can't handle it. I don't want it. I want you to have it."
Sephiroth blinks. This materia has passed down through Orlin's family, carried over from where it was originally found and refined in Wutai. He's seen it in use a few times. It's powerful. Orlin's swearing trying to control the magic inside was even stronger.
"None of my family members want it. I'm the last fighter and even I don't feel like fighting." Orlin pushes it into his hand. "So you are going to take care of it. Maybe you'll be better at it than me. If not, just carry it for good luck. Got it?"
The materia is cold and smooth. It flickers awake in the back of his mind before Sephiroth shuts it out. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out but a choke. It's been too much. He is cracking. He doesn't have the strength for this kind of gift. His fingers wrap around it and then he drops his hand to his side.
He tries to count the grass, the little pebbles, the scuffs on his shoes, anything to keep the emotions at bay.
The shaking starts.
And there is nothing Sephiroth can do about it.
Orlin pulls him into a hug. A hand wraps around his head, pulling him even closer. Sephiroth can't lift his arms so he just leans in, allowing his head to be buried in the standard Second shirt. His face stings as he fights back the tears.
"We're going to make it through."