Exit Familiarity

Cloud was once again back in the Weapons Department, still working on his weapon design, though he was beginning to think the combat star idea was one of the best he could have been offered. It made him re-think his opinion of Rufus a bit, at least as far as his awareness and intelligence went. Anything else was still up in the air. That Rufus obviously felt no threat whatsoever from having a sibling was a relief—while he'd already suspected Rufus wasn't opposed to them, he hadn't really imagined he might want to know and work with them, either. He'd even taken being told to fuck off better than expected, even when he was still at least a little (a lot) in the 'brat' phase.

Now, working out more of the details of how to fit blades of various sizes into a combat star without unbalancing it was an interesting challenge. Just by the nature of it and his familiarity with seven blades, he was left a question of how to balance them. Blade length was a thing, and the largest blade he wanted to use was being difficult, so he was thinking of paring it down. That would work while he was twelve, anyway, and it would give him time to work out another option while he was in the process of growing to need a larger blade.

He was interrupted by a familiar chuckle, and glanced up to see Scarlet leaning over his shoulder to examine his schematics. She looked amused, so he asked in annoyance, "What's so funny?"

"You missed a very obvious point in your blade-balancing," she replied in amusement, pointing to the longest blade drawn on the paper. "If you're re-designing a combat star to begin with, you may as well use hilts as well as blades, and if you make this long one with a sharp-edged guard, it could even serve as a blade itself. Then, this one would fit evenly across the star's base, leaving about six inches on each side to be blades. Every other one of these six would fit across the blade in pairs, a smaller with a larger, and if all your hilts had bladed guards, you'd easily be able to grab any of them by the hilt while still having blades. That gives you seven 'swords' on an eight-pointed combat star, and largely takes care of your balance. It also means most wouldn't readily realize you're packing swords and daggers in a combat star. I'd also recommend you use the folded-metal blade style of the Wutains if you go with metal."

Blinking, Cloud took a moment to process that, then looked back at his schematics for a minute before sighing and commenting blandly, "I'm an idiot."

"You're too familiar with a different type of weapon," the woman answered in reply, pulling a chair over to sit beside him. "It's something we all do instinctively—we're drawn to what's familiar. By being drawn to it, we also try to apply the familiar to unfamiliar circumstances and situations." She pointed at the schematics in front of him. "That's the result. Some people step past those restrictions of familiarity with greater frequency than others, which is why having someone else to bounce ideas off of is a useful thing. In the meantime, even those most able to get past the familiar on their own still sometimes get stuck on it, because that's part of our nature."

Again, Cloud blinked at her, then looked at the schematic again as he said slowly, "That's why you ask my opinion on some of the schematics."

"Yes," she agreed.

"So why me instead of the others here?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know who taught you engineering, but you don't work with it the same way most do," she replied. "Everyone here, or nearly, has the same training I do from Shinra Academy. That means we're all familiar with a certain way of doing things, and we all collectively have the same blinders on. You don't, so it's more useful for me to ask your opinion if I'm missing something than it is for me to ask theirs. Believe me, we've all tried this before."

Once more, Cloud blinked, then gave a small chuckle before he began laughing. The woman stared at him for a few moments, then just shrugged and sat back to wait for him to stop, both of them ignoring the attention they'd attracted. When he did, she just cocked a brow, clearly asking him to explain, so he told her, "I'm self-taught. A couple times, I asked someone I knew—an engineer, a mechanic—or I referenced a random engineering or mechanics magazine. Those were rare, and I was mostly just working out the hows and whys on my own. Instead of being pre-programmed to think 'it can't be done', I start looking for ways it could be done. If I don't already think it can't be done, then I don't discard something as useless or wishful thinking, like an idea which might allow it to work." She stared in amazement as he looked back at his schematics. "Until I hit something like this, at least."

"It's usually the most obvious option we miss, thinking it has to be more complicated," Scarlet offered in wry amusement. "Self-taught. No wonder it was the Turks. They like unconventional promise."

"That's true," the boy agreed in amusement, setting aside the papers to face her. "I don't think you came over to join me for that, so what did you need?"

"An extra pair of hands. You'll get a better meal than cafeteria food out of the deal," she replied, her gaze both amused and intent.

"For what?" he asked, now very curious.

"I have a prototype in my office which isn't being cooperative, and I think you might be able to help get the pieces in the right places to make it work," she answered. "There are a few places where I'm finding I also need someone else to help keep parts in place while I'm screwing them down. I might need—around an hour or two of your time for that?"

"Sure," he agreed, still looking amused. They moved to her office to work on the prototype (which looked like a type of portable cannon and portable digging claw at once) and had lunch there while they worked. Once they were done, he got back to his schematics—and found all the pieces just falling into place. By the end of the day, all he needed to do was make the actual weapon.

MB

Genesis watched in vague bemusement as Kunzel created a warm, soft, cloth bed on the table for the Coerl kitten, then began feeding it the meat off his plate from the meals they'd stopped to get on the way back yesterday. Even with healing, the kitten was in rough shape and seemed happy to mostly just sleep and eat right then—though, it certainly also very much liked the meat and would follow it from the bed if Kunzel wasn't fast enough in pulling off pieces. It was almost painful watching the poor thing move. And, there was also the question of what they were actually supposed to do with the thing. While Genesis had been happy enough to say it was staying, he had no idea how to take care of it, and Kunzel seemed just as lost.

"Genesis—" Angeal began as he walked in suddenly, causing the kitten to make a distressed noise and dive into Kunzel's lap while both Kunzel and Genesis froze. "What's that?" he asked in surprise.

"What's what?" Zack asked as he slipped past the man to grin at Kunzel.

"A Coerl in the Slums shoved one of her kittens into Kunzel's hands," Genesis answered. "The rest of the family is dead, so the only one left is this one. And it's now Kunzel's."

"Yeah..." Kunzel agreed, gently petting the trembling kitten. "But what do I do with it? How do I take care of it?"

Angeal and Genesis traded amused looks as Zack grinned, "That's easy!" He moved over to kneel beside Kunzel, peering at the frightened kitten as he held his hand out in offering. "I think because Coerls get so big, you'd have to treat it sort of like a dog that has cat-like tendencies, like sleeping a lot, and wanting to hunt, being a hedonist...Um...So, like, feed it meat, which I think you were doing, but let it hunt when you take it for walks to relieve itself. While it's a kitten, it could probably use a litter box, but when it's grown up—which won't take long—it won't fit in one, and I'm not sure you'd like a litter box that big in here, anyway. That means walking it every day, no less than twice a day, unless you decide to make it a very big litter box. Otherwise, you won't have to do much except pay attention to it when it wants attention or figure out what's wrong if it's sick. And name it."

In the meantime, the kitten had begun to sniff Zack's hand, and when it stopped, it was more relaxed, though stayed where it was. "So, what just happened?" Kunzel asked curiously, having felt the kitten relax.

"You have to 'introduce' it to everyone you're friends with—usually animals and monsters know people by their scent, so letting it sniff our hands helps it to 'know who we are', and to 'know we're safe'," Zack answered, standing.

With a quirked brow, Kunzel asked, "Why do I suddenly feel tired?"

"A pet's a responsibility, especially a monster instead of a normal animal," Zack answered with a grin. "But you just took it from its home, so it needs to adapt to a new place and a new family. Once it does, you'll be all good."

"...Thanks, I think," the sixteen-year-old agreed a bit dryly.

"So, what's its sex and what are you going to name it?" Zack asked with a grin. "And can we eat now please, Angeal?" That produced snorts and laughs from all of the others, and Kunzel noted the kitten sniffing in the direction of the table.

"I haven't checked its sex yet..." Kunzel blinked, putting the kitten down on the table by the piece of meat it hadn't been able to eat before. As it decided to go back to the meat, he flipped its tail off to the side, then said, "I think it's female." Looking up at Zack plaintively, he said, "What am I supposed to name her?"

"That's for you to decide, Buddy!" Zack grinned in amusement again. "You could go with something simple like Spots?"

"Oh, how 'plain Jane' of you!" Genesis replied with suppressed laughter. "A Coerl deserves a much better name than that! Even Melody would be better."

It was Angeal who commented, "Genesis, that's a cat, not a singer."

"What? It's a good name!" Genesis replied with a theatrical pout.

Kunzel broke down into laughter at the banter, making the others look at him curiously, but when he stopped laughing, he said, "Thanks for the offers, but I want some time to mull it over. If I'm basically keeping her for life—Coerl families tend to stay together—I want it to be a good name just for her, something which suits her properly. I'm not just going to throw some random name at her."

The others traded looks, but then Genesis agreed, "That's what you should be doing, Kunzel. It doesn't mean we can't throw names at you to assess. They're ideas. They might spark something which leads to a name."

"...Okay, thanks," Kunzel agreed with a small smile.

"Now, why are you here, Angeal?" Genesis asked curiously, looking up at the man. "It obviously wasn't for this."

"No, but this was an amusing diversion," Angeal replied in amusement. "Zack and I are heading out on a mission to the other continent soon, and it's unknown when we'll be back. We're leaving right after lunch, so I had thought to invite you to join us. It looks like you already have your own food, though, and with your new house-mate, I don't think you could leave her behind. Have you told Lazard about her?"

"Yes," Genesis agreed dryly. "He's going to visit sometime today to see her and help us work out what we need. So far, she's mostly just stayed in whatever warm, soft place Kunzel put her, so she's only made a mess of some old clothes, but we need a better plan soon."

"If you think you could go with a litter box, even short-term, it will be easier if you start her with dirt—probably from the Slums—until she's used to it, then start slowly exchanging it with kitty litter," Zack offered suddenly. "She's used to doing her business in Slum dirt, so it's familiar to her, while kitty litter is foreign. And don't make a habit of moving the box—pick somewhere and leave it there, probably somewhere out of the way and not openly visible."

"Like a corner of the storage room?" Kunzel asked suddenly.

"Yeah, that would do. Just keep the door partway open so she can get in and out," the younger Third agreed with a grin. "And we should go soon, or we won't get to eat before leaving, right Angeal?"

"That's right," Angeal agreed with a faintly amused smile. "We'll stop by when we get back. Good luck in the meantime."

Genesis waved them off as Angeal led Zack out. He then looked at Kunzel and said, "If we can get Lazard—or anyone else—to get us the dirt from the Slums, I think we should get it that way."

"You are so lazy, Genesis..." Kunzel sighed in amused fondness.

"Hardly," he answered dryly, then shrugged. "I don't really want to have to take several trips to the Slums while carting around bags of soil and your new kitten, though. Do you?"

After pausing to think about the distance involved, the younger man gave him a wryly amused smile and agreed, "Okay, that's fair, and point taken." He watched as the kitten finished the meat, sniffed around hopefully for more, then softly padded back to the bedding to lay down again for more sleep. Once she had settled, he asked slowly, "Genesis...Do you think I'm actually...doing something useful?"

"Sorry—what are you talking about?" Genesis asked in reply, frowning faintly at the question. Kunzel had always been pretty self-assured, but that had sounded anything but, and it was worrying to hear.

For a long moment, the younger man was silent, but then he sighed and explained, "I don't feel like I'm anyone special, but all of you trust me. You all assume I'm supposed to know all about what's going on, and you don't really try to hide it from me. But I haven't done anything to warrant that..."

The red haired man's brows rose almost into his hair line. "Kunzel, look at me," he demanded. The younger man met his gaze warily, so he asked, "How many people are in your email list?"

"Um...Around..." Kunzel began. He then drifted off with a faint frown and took out his PHS. Checking the number, he repeated, "Five hundred and seventy-th—" then froze as his eyes widened.

"Okay," Genesis agreed, having expected that, or maybe even higher. "Why do you have so many?"

"...I just..." Kunzel began, brow furrowed. "I talked with people. We...got along, so I...asked to add them as friends...I had no idea there were so many..."

"How often do you get in touch with them, the ones with the biggest gaps?" the Commander asked curiously.

"...Um..." the younger man began, flipping through the list. "Other than only calling home once every few months...Most of these, the longest is about two weeks."

"So, you keep a network of nearly six hundred people, and somehow keep in touch with them all without going longer than two to three weeks," Genesis affirmed, and Kunzel nodded, meeting his gaze again in puzzlement. "What kinds of things do they share with you?"

Kunzel's mouth opened, then closed. He looked down at the Coerl sleeping on the table, then replied vaguely, "Stuff."

"Shinra secrets?" Genesis asked in amusement. Kunzel flushed, and the older man said, "Kunzel, you are your own 'spy network'. We already knew that, and I let you this close because your unintentional network means you collect multiple seemingly unrelated pieces to several larger puzzles as a matter of course. Over time, you'd have discovered all of this, anyway. There was no point in hiding it. And that network, over time, fills in details even we sometimes don't know, especially when you start applying your investigative Turk qualities to the data. All of that is already in place, just by you being you. Exactly what made you think you were effectively worthless?"

After a long moment of silence, Kunzel blinked and repeated slowly, "It's...already in place..." Genesis just cocked a brow and waited for Kunzel to process the words, then the younger man breathed, "I had it all along and didn't even realize it! Why some people, but not others? Why these places at these times? Why this data over that data, even without pieces to tie it to? Why did certain things not surprise me to hear, as though I already knew?" He looked back at the older man's thoughtful gaze. "I had all those half-memories, too, but anything I did had always been subtle, so I didn't even realize I was doing it."

The explanation caused the red haired man a great deal of amusement as he realized, "That's true, isn't it? You always were subtle. But you haven't told me yet where your self-assurance went."

That caused another pause before he rubbed the back of his head with one hand and softly admitted, "I think that's a throw-back from what Dante did that I haven't quite gotten rid of yet..."

"How long have you known that?" the Commander blinked in surprise. "Other than this, you certainly haven't shown any signs of it."

"...It might have gotten worse if Tseng hadn't reamed me out for thinking that way last time I saw him," Kunzel sighed. "I didn't really realize something was wrong until then, either."

"...Your discussion in Wutain," Genesis sighed. "You should have told me then."

"...I wasn't even ready to face what Tseng said to me, let alone anyone else," Kunzel replied, sounding a bit amused. "So I avoided it entirely myself, and you had other things on your mind, anyway. I think—what you just did...helped. A lot."

"Okay," the older man agreed. "But next time, if you need to talk, tell me. I'm your Mentor for a reason—so I can help you past difficulties preventing you from reaching your potential. This qualifies."

"...Fair enough. And thank you," Kunzel agreed with a small, grateful smile.

MB

Vincent had finally gotten a Turk uniform made out of the same material which allowed his other clothing to transform with him, so he was able to look like a Turk. He kept his red headband, but took off the cape, and by default, he had to keep the one metal arm (though he'd just gotten a message to see Reeve in a couple days about it, leaving him puzzled). Otherwise, even his boots were now a light-weight black which was closer to the Turks' uniform shoe in design, and he had never felt more human since Hojo had begun experimenting on him.

Testing his new range of movement by 'training' the Shinra heir was also highly entertaining. Especially because he was effectively getting paid to toss him around like a sack until the sixteen-year-old brat decided to listen to him.

When he threw the younger man to the ground that time, the panting blond just stayed there, blinking at the ceiling as he tried to get his breath back. Finally, after a few minutes, he began pushing himself to a sitting position and asked, "How do you do that? It shouldn't be nearly so simple—it isn't as though I'm a raw beginner!"

Admittedly, that was a lot less 'brat-like' than the younger man could have behaved like, so Vincent sighed and offered him his gloved flesh hand. "Rufus, Veld asked me to be the one to train you so you'd realize what kinds of 'monsters' are out there, just waiting to take a piece out of you. They don't all look like monsters, either—most of them are human. Mako enhancements, for example, aren't exclusive to SOLDIER, and there are anti-Shinra terrorists who do their own experiments. Some people are also just truly that skilled, which means a Turk's level of skill. In my case, I'm the result of a lot of experiments which have left me with a virtually indestructible body. If you can even just hold your own against me, you'd probably be able to beat nearly anyone else."

After eying him for a moment, the younger man reached up to take his hand, and Vincent pulled him to his feet. That time, the blond didn't just try to jump right back into battle, he stood still and assessed the man in front of him. "A cane does no good against you," he finally said. "My gun isn't strong enough. Well, I didn't actually expect it to be, either. Veld wanted me to learn unarmed, even though it's also ineffective. And my new twin daggers normally don't stay in my hands long enough for me to find out if they work. What's the point of this, then?"

Vincent's brow rose and he asked in reply, "What are you here for, Rufus?"

"To learn to defeat opponents," Rufus answered plainly.

For a long moment, Vincent just looked at him, then said bluntly, "That's not what you were told. Try again."

"What other purpose would there be?" Rufus asked in annoyance.

While Vincent's first instinct had been to—disabuse—him of his error, he held back as he remembered some of the other Turks he'd met. Turks he'd trained. This wasn't about 'correcting a mistake', it was trying to make them see the intrinsic flaw in how they were thinking.

"Fine, tell me how training is a competition, then," the older man finally said.

"Because that's how you know the level of your skill—if you can beat the master, then you're a master," the blond answered.

"Are you your father in disguise?" Vincent asked in annoyance. At Rufus' completely puzzled (and horrified) look, he went on, "Your father once said exactly that thing to Lady Shinra when she tried teaching him to fight. She quit because he wouldn't let go of the idea that competing with others, being 'better than' others, was the be-all-end-all of existence. Only the weak need to compete with others in the name of proving their power, and the rest of us only use our power to stop the weak from destroying everyone else. Are you quite certain you want to follow your father's footsteps, or are you going to look deeper?"

That left Rufus floundering and uncertain as he asked, "But doesn't competition bring out the best in others?"

Raising a brow, Vincent asked, "Who would you say are stronger—the Turks or SOLDIER?"

"...Turks can kill SOLDIERs if they really need to, so wouldn't it be the Turks?" the younger man asked.

"That's true," the shapeshifter agreed. "But that depends on your definition of 'strength'. No Turk is physically as strong as a SOLDIER—if one were to catch one of us, one not like me, that Turk would be crushed. Our 'strength' is in our skills, not how much weight we can lift. How do you think we develop them?"

"By fighting each other," the blond answered bluntly in annoyance.

As Vincent was about to throw up his hands and tell Veld he quit, he recalled that Sirra and Verde had a score to settle and had planned a match. And there were always some Turks doing some sort of training. "Come with me. I want you to watch a few things—just to watch." He then led the way to the room where Sirra and Verde were. The match had already begun, and the two fought entirely viciously until they were both bloody and had collapsed in exhaustion. There was also no obvious winner, not by both their states. Once it was clear they were done, Vincent led Rufus to the other room, where three other Turks were training.

In that match, a two-on-one, it was intended to develop instinct to react to an attack a person couldn't see. The battle was intense, but went longer because the two attackers (Lenno and Leana) weren't trying to defeat their sparring partner (Reno, as the second newest addition to the Turks), so weren't taking opportunities to end the match. Whenever Leana, as the rear attacker, got a hit on Reno, they would pause and restart, but it wasn't enough to say the match had 'stopped'. It was less intensive and focused on skill, not winning—there was no winner or loser.

"Rufus," Vincent said, turning to face him as the three stopped and the two older Turks sat down to talk with Reno about his progress. When Rufus turned to look at him, he said, "You saw a match which was fighting to win, and saw what that led to." He then motioned to the room where the other three were sitting and added, "You've also seen a training match the way the Turks do it. Until you can accurately tell me the differences and work out which one was actively more valuable, I won't train you further. However, I'll be available for you to talk with during the times we've set aside for your training."

"But then you aren't doing your job to train me," Rufus scowled.

"This is, in fact, also training," Vincent replied evenly. "If you can't answer correctly, you'll never be able to be anything more than a thug and a bully. Even Veld won't overrule my decision, so I suggest you take the task seriously."

He then left a stewing Rufus Shinra to his own thoughts.