The Gentle Blade
Masamune respects life and won't ever kill needlessly. It's a gentle blade that protects and spares the innocent. A blade that likes to fight, but doesn't like killing.
Chapter 1: What Exactly Happened in Wutai?
Cloud was sure that he shouldn't have come here, but… a lot of 'buts' happened.
Zack insisted. 'You won't regret it, I promise!' – he assured, smiling widely. Cloud should have been wiser, he knew well this expression. It was a dangerous one, meaning either a stupid joke or serious problems. 'I have a surprise for you for passing the first exam, something reeeeeally special!'
Well, Cloud did pass somehow, and it was hard enough to feel the need to celebrate it. A drink or two with Zack would be enough, though.
'But.'
Instead of a quiet toast, Zack offered Cloud an escapade to the slums. They walked through endlessly long, dark alleys, like escaping some invisible spies, to the dingiest pub Cloud had ever seen.
And full of Turks, he noticed at the entrance. He spent enough time in Shin-Ra to recognize one at first, maybe second glance. There was just something around them, an aura of elegant secrecy, impossible to confuse with anything else.
"You really want to spend the evening among the Turks? We should rather stay in…"
"Relax, Spiky." Zack smirked, evidently hiding an ace up his sleeve. "Just take a closer look, your surprise is waiting over there."
He meant a suspicious person, sitting in the corner with an unusual drink in hand. As far as Cloud knew it was a rare alcohol from Wutai, made from rice. The smell alone effectively discouraged Cloud from tasting it.
The mysterious customer looked familiar, but also so different from his usual appearance, that Cloud blinked several times, sure that he was just seeing things. There was a Mako glow in the green eyes of the stranger, and his face looked unhealthy pale even in the shadowy room, but the rest...
A simple grey hoodie, not famous black leather coat, was confusing enough. How did the man manage to hide such long, silver hair under his clothes? If not alarmed by the eyes, Cloud would most likely ignore the guy, passing him by on the street. No, not really, he was too tall to fit into the crowd, but Cloud would give him probably nothing more than a curious glance.
Is he really…?
"Sorry to keep you waiting! Sephy, this is Cloud." Zack's words brought Cloud back to the reality. "He's a big fan of yours, so I took him along. He worked hard enough during exams to deserve a reward, don't you think?"
Wait… What?! Did he say 'Sephy'?
"Hello, Cloud." Sephiroth mechanically ended one drink and ordered another. He did not seem surprised or bothered at all. "So you've brought your friend here to ruin his dreams, Zack? How do you think he would feel, seeing me drunk on the floor?"
"Nah, impossible." Zack ignored the famous first's half-hearted complaints. "You can't get drunk."
"That's even worse," Sephiroth murmured under his breath, smiling faintly.
"But you do sleep on the floor, though."
"Just an old habit from Wutai. You won't understand."
"Sure. And you keep saying that I'm a puppy here. What's wrong, Spiky? Relax, take a seat."
Cloud swallowed. How could he just sit normally and have a drink with his hero? 'Hello, Cloud'? The great Silver General himself had said it just now? Was this even reality?
What did Cloud expect anyway – that Sephiroth would ignore his presence or throw him out of the pub? Or that he would wake up back in his bed in Nibelheim?
It looked like a feverish dream of a crazy fanboy, to be honest. Even more, when his idol moved right to make some space, so Cloud could sit comfortably next to him.
"Zack decided that I'm your present today," Sephiroth explained with a thin smile. "So… congratulations. You may ask any question you want, Cloud. I'm all yours."
He said it so naturally and politely that Cloud really believed that he had been rewarded. It can be a nice evening, he thought, trying to relax. Strong drinks ordered by Zack helped him a lot.
"Is it true that you can just manifest Masamune out of thin air?" Strange for the first question, Cloud knew it, but he was so curious he couldn't stop himself.
"Like that?" Sephiroth made a quick movement, gentle enough to not disturb anyone in the room (the Turks must have seen it countless times before anyway), and it just was there: long, magnificent blade, pure like the silver starlight, inseparably connected with its owner. "So it seems."
"Does its name mean anything?"
"It's a name of a blacksmith who forged it."
"Wutaian blacksmith," Zack added, smirking meaningfully. "And, before you ask, Spiky, the blade is so long because no man should wield it. This sword was forged as a gift for the Goddess."
"Oh?" Sephiroth smiled, pleased by Zack's explanation. "So you listen to my 'Wutaian babbling' sometimes? I'm honored."
"Your babbling is still more interesting than Genesis and his 'Loveless' rampage. He just keeps saying the same quotes and you're… evolving."
The Silver General chuckled and Cloud had to admit that it was a soft, pleasant sound. He did not expect the hero of SOLDIER to be like this privately, but… he could like him even more now. As a person, flesh and blood, not a cool-looking figure from recruitment posters.
"You have a point here, Zack. But it looks like we lost Cloud somewhere between digressions. You have more questions, am I right?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind… H-how you're doing this? Is it a form of Materia manipulation?"
"Not really. It's complicated. Let's just say that there's a legend…"
"Wutaian legend," Zack pointed out, then laughed at Sephiroth, who rolled his eyes in response.
"…or rather a common belief, that a warrior's soul resides within his sword. At least part of it. I understand it as some kind of spiritual connection, but can't really explain this in more scientific manner without touching the topic of the Ancients and the Lifestream. Trust me, I would bore you to death with all the terminology."
"So you have spiritual connection to a sacred sword of Wutai? That's just… wow." Cloud shook his head in disbelief. "How did you find out?"
"It happened during my first deployment in Wutai, about eight years ago," Sephiroth answered shortly. Too bad that something, which sounded like a beginning of a great story, died with the next breath.
"So… What exactly happened in Wutai?" – Cloud wanted to know more.
Both First class SOLDIERs laughed at this innocent question, although Sephiroth was not really in the mood. He heard it too many times before and still had no answer. His hand moved involuntarily to a pendant on his neck - a small figurine of a winged sea serpent…
…
"I don't understand," the boy said, frowning. "Why am I allowed to be here? I killed many of your people."
"But you're not killing now, right?" The priestess was preparing tea again, a ritual Sephiroth strangely enjoyed. He, too, was attracted to small ceremonies, requiring precision in repeating the same, elegant movements. Just like his training with the sword, the Wutaian tea ceremony could bring him peace of mind. "Do you want to kill me, Sephiroth?"
"No," he replied, slowly but honestly. "I like to fight, but I don't like killing. Not if I don't have to."
"As long as you stay here you don't have to kill anyone. So there's no problem, correct?"
With her usual, calm smile, the priestess gave him a small cup. Sephiroth accepted, captivated by the wonderful aroma of the drink and gentle beauty of a person, who had prepared it.
"You just keep me imprisoned here, so I won't kill your troops and help Shin-Ra win the war."
"Sephiroth, dear. Do you feel like a prisoner here?"
"I… don't know."
…
I'd like to know myself what really happened there, Sephiroth thought, but out loud said only:
"If you don't change your mind, reach at least second class and become my trusted comrade, I'll tell you about Wutai."
"That's… a lot of 'ifs'," Cloud noticed, pretending to be focused on the glass in his hand.
"Yeah, but… wait! It's not fair, Sephy!" Zack made one of his 'offended puppy' faces. "You've never wanted to tell me about Wutai, but you made a promise to Spiky, just like that?"
Sephiroth gave him a suspiciously warm smile.
"Let's say that he reminds me of an old friend."
"Oh? Friend, you say? A man?" Zack winked. "A woman?'
But Sephiroth only chuckled, glancing at Cloud from behind his glass.
"No. A white chocobo."
Wutai, 8 years ago
How long had it been? Two weeks, maybe. But somehow it seemed like ages.
Humans were ridiculously fragile. Their flesh and bones shattered under Sephiroth's strikes, as easily as during the VR training. He should have been well prepared for war. He WAS well prepared.
Still…
The look in their eyes, when they fall. The smell of fear and smashed intestines. Hot blood of his victims on Sephiroth's skin. Can anyone be prepared for that?
They were dying so easily it felt almost unfair. Like if their lives meant nothing. But were everything they had. And he was the one to take them away. Why was he allowed to?
He was ordered to. Only orders mattered. No thinking. No doubts. Just following orders - that's what his teachers kept saying. They repeated it so many times, Sephiroth could now recite the rules even awakened in the middle of the night.
A SOLDIER is a weapon, he'd been told once, and now he really could feel like one.
Sephiroth wasn't officially a member of SOLDIER yet, but the Special Operation Unit S – their experimental party of infiltrators and scientists – was a part of Shin-Ra's forces and often cooperated with bigger units. Six fully armed men were following them around to guard their precious specimen outside of battle.
But Sephiroth knew the truth from the start. They were afraid of him. Those 'bodyguards' had been sent here to pacify the kid, as if Shin-Ra expected Sephiroth to start rampaging out of the blue.
The boy was not sure of why they feared him so much, but he knew that six men couldn't possibly stop him. Not that he was planning something, but the thought itself was... heartening. He would survive, he promised Mom to come back safely. Sephiroth liked to fight, apparently, but he liked many other things, too. And war was not one of the most pleasurable activities he could imagine.
First he was shaken, he'd been told that even adults usually were. Mom called from Midgar to calm down, although he did not understand, why she felt the need to apologize. She did nothing wrong, it was the company's fault.
Or maybe the world itself went crazy?
Anyway, two weeks should be enough to get used to death, noise, fatigue and constant stress. Sephiroth wouldn't say he became accustomed to the situation, rather felt numb. Apathetic. It was better this way. Pretending that he had not memorized faces of every single fallen comrade was just easier. He could do nothing to bring them back to life. He could only try to save as many others as possible.
Unlike members of his own unit, common troopers liked Sephiroth. They were nice to him, some even thought of the boy as of Shin-Ra's army mascot. Others as of their savior. Few must have seen in the silver-haired child a resolute younger brother. They called him 'Sephy' and he had nothing against it – Turks and the lab staff had been using that nickname all the time.
But their kindness made everything much harder for Sephiroth. Watching them die later was unbearable.
The boy sighed, trying to focus on the current mission. He was staring blankly through the helicopter's window, fighting the urge to call Mom, just to hear her calming voice again. The troopers would laugh at him, maybe even call him a crybaby. He smiled, remembering what Mom used to say in such situations: 'No one would dare laugh at you, soldiers love their mothers. They would be jealous that you can call me, nothing more'.
"Sephiroth, get ready." His commanding officer for this mission winked, probably trying to cheer the boy up. "No need to be nervous, we cover you."
I'm not nervous, just tired, Sephiroth thought. But it would be… rude, right?... to say it to someone, who tried to be nice. They may never see each other again and, although Sephiroth didn't care for small pleasantries, he had learned that other people did. So he only nodded and stood up, readying for the jump.
He'd been told that the Wutaians cut off an entire street by demolishing few buildings. Probably an important commander had been gathering men for counterattack there, so Shin-Ra needed to act quickly and as discreetly as possible. Sephiroth had been fighting almost constantly for the last three days, but he was the best for the task.
Approach from above, scan the surroundings, kill the commanders, return to the base. Then get some rest as your reward. Simple as that.
The sword seemed too heavy in his hand, when Sephiroth crouched in the entrance, ready to jump. He did not like this blade, too broad and unwieldy. Using it felt like throwing a wooden board, not a swordplay. It was not compatible with his speed, but could withstand the power of his strikes, so, after breaking so many good weapons, he was not really in the position to complain.
"At least take some Materia with you, boy!" The officer assisted Sephiroth for the first time, he could not even imagine that someone would jump out of the helicopter just like that.
"I…" 'I don't need it!' – Sephiroth wanted to say, but remembered that he supposed to be polite. "I almost forgot. Thank you."
He reached out for a shining orb, but did not make it in the end. Violent turbulences hit the helicopter, turning it around in the air, and Sephiroth, despite his inhuman reflex, simply fell out of the vehicle. He had no time to even catch a breath before hitting the ground.
Sephiroth was standing – barely – on the pile of rubble, analyzing his current situation. He was wounded, alone, his communicator crushed to pieces and sword broken, stuck in the dead body of an unknown Wutaian monster.
What had exactly happened just a moment ago? Till now the boy operated purely on instinct. He needed to calm down and think what to do next.
It was not a turbulence, but an attack. Sephiroth considered himself lucky that he fell to the street. Probably no one inside the helicopter survived the explosion.
Again, people who were kind to him died. Just like that. Like if their lives mattered nothing.
Enduring the pain and pressure during the impact was not really a big deal. Sephiroth was good at falling. His body could always naturally find the best position to land relatively safely, almost as if he was secretly a cat. A twisted ankle was not a high price for his life, after all.
The most serious problem was the creature that had smashed the helicopter, then charged at Sephiroth to finish the job. It was not a summon, but a real dragon, probably some kind of a local species the boy had never heard of. It looked like a brown flying serpent, was surprisingly intelligent and able to cut off the entire district, smashing the buildings with its tail.
And – last but not least – it was a venomous species.
Sephiroth was sure that the creature did not manage to bite him during the fight, yet he must have been scratched by a strange spike on the monster's tail. The boy was immune to most poisons, but still felt dizzy. Maybe he was just exhausted and needed more time to fight the harmful substance in his circulatory system? He should examine the corpse for any piece of knowledge that might help him recover faster.
It was really the worst possible moment to be surrounded by enemy forces. They did not kill him immediately, though; he even managed to free the remnants of his sword from the dragon's body. Their commander must have felt confident in his territory, because he decided to speak to Sephiroth first.
"Shin-Ra must be desperate to send children to war."
"I'm not a chil… Well, guess I am." The boy tried hard to stand straight, but his arms went limp. He was so tired, with all his energy focused on the poison in his veins. "But it doesn't mean that I can't defeat you now."
The commander's eyes widened in surprise. What a bold thing to say in front of an enemy army! What was wrong with this child? Maybe it was not a child at all, just one of Shin-Ra's genetically modified monsters? He looked like a miserable teenager with a broken sword, too big for him to wield, but the air around him was highly suspicious.
"Boy, you do notice all these guns pointed at your head, right?"
"Of course. And the snipers, there and there." Sephiroth sounded bored, when he pointed out the snipers' hideouts. "And two… no, three of your assassins, there, in the shadows. You must be important to have them with you."
Soldiers murmured something in disbelief, their commander seemed impressed as well.
"How…?"
"These 'ninjas'… that's how you call them? They're almost undetectable, I must admit," Sephiroth continued, his voice emotionless. "But they can't hide their body temperature."
His adversaries tensed visibly. Sephiroth could sense their fear, but didn't care this time. He didn't come here to make friends.
"Boy, if you really can kill us at any moment, why don't you?"
Words like 'tactical disadvantage' crossed Sephiroth's mind. He had already analyzed the possibilities and was sure that he would survive eventual battle, but it was not worth the effort. The poison slowed him down, he would probably receive two or three bullets… Risking a shot in the head was not a good idea with a twisted ankle and two broken ribs.
No, he promised to take better care of himself. If Mom ever finds out what's he been thinking, she will be both sad and angry.
Sorry, Mom.
"I wasn't ordered to," Sephiroth replied at last, then focused on the suspicious movement far in the alley behind the enemy leader's back. "So you've been waiting here for someone?" – he asked, raising an eyebrow at the most unlikely person to meet on the battlefield.
First a strange, but surprisingly pleasant scent reached his nostrils – some kind of perfume, perhaps. Then a tall, slim figure in a white robe emerged from the shadows behind the commander's back. It was a woman with long, black hair and the gentlest expression Sephiroth had ever seen.
She's important, the boy thought, observing the reaction of the Wutaian troopers. All soldiers would probably fell to their knees before the mysterious woman, if not the order to observe Sephiroth. She's the reason why they destroyed the street, even the dragon tried to keep her safe.
This woman is THE TARGET.
The boy tensed at this realization. This was it, one death to save many lives. One death to end this stupid war and go back home to Mom. All of this within his reach… if he only wasn't so tired right now.
"Izayoi-sama, you shouldn't…" The commander tried to say something, but the woman stopped him, slowly shaking her head.
"I follow the voice of the Goddess, Captain. And the Goddess wants this child to be safe in the Temple of Leviathan." She turned to Sephiroth and asked him directly: "Will you come with me?"
The boy blinked, not really sure what was happening around him. Her request seemed irrational at first, but he quickly calculated all the options he had and… it was really the best one at the moment. He needed to survive, recover from the poison, regenerate broken bones. After that he would think about targets and returning to the base. One task at a time, top priority first. The Turks were probably already on the move, so...
"As your prisoner?" – he asked, his gaze cold and cautious.
"As my guest."
The priestess did not try to deceive him, Sephiroth realized with astonishment. Even without his weapons, he still was able to free himself quite easily, they risked much by taking him to their base. Did they not fear that he would betray and kill them anyway?
Apparently not. There was something weird going on, for sure, something Sephiroth more felt than understood.
He nodded and dropped the remnants of his sword, then blushed slightly, remembering about good manners.
"I... gladly accept your offer."
The woman smiled and reached out her hand to the boy, inviting him into the new, unknown world.
Just to clarify - the story itself is quite old and has no connection to Ever Crisis. It may look like it was inspired by the game, but no. Crazy AU all the way, with Sephiroth being the good guy and a hero, and having real friends (not without struggle, though). Drama and adventure will be here, still.
I've grown emotionally attached to this story, and thus got trapped in the rewriting hell (I'm still not satisfied with the result, sadly. Probably I will never be, English is not my native language, so I suffer here a lot.).
And, of course, I own only my stupid ideas and terrible writing.