Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a bright, sunny day in Midgar. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen overhead, and the air was crisp and pleasantly warm. Just as the President preferred. Which made this the perfect day to throw this event for the public to see.

In Sector 1, an arena had been put together out of a local sports stadium, providing proper seating and viewing for the game. Cameras were set up at every angle possible, and the proper protection was placed over the stands so no one would get hurt, maimed, or killed. The President, of course, was in the best seat with his Board members, watching the show unfold with glee as they eagerly placed bets and enjoyed refreshments, able to both watch the show from the glass window, and from the many screens that surrounded them.

The space was a bit smaller than the President would have liked. Something more like his room at the Gold Saucer would have been far better fitting. This was plebeian compared to what he was used to. It was rather cramped, what with most of his directors scattered about. Palmer had claimed a couch to himself, drinking butter tea. Heidegger and Scarlet had claimed comfy chairs on either side of the President, as they usually did, as though to enjoy the show together. Rufus and Veld were sharing a couch, oddly enough, making passing comments about when someone would fall. Lazard was sharing a couch with Director Tuesti, though neither man had spoken to the other. Professor Hojo, however, had claimed a chair and a table by one of the screens, taking idle and smug notes as he muttered to himself. It spoke of how cramped the space was that the President could hear every conversation happening around him, but given this had been thrown together in a week's time, he was impressed with how his Director managed to turn it around.

“A marvelous suggestion, Mr. Tuesti,” the President once again praised his Director of Urban Development, ignoring Heidegger and Scarlet’s attempts to drag him into a conversation. “And how did you come up with this, again?”

“A suggestion from an old friend,” the man said, massaging his temple.

The President nodded as the other man’s secretary returned with pain pills. It appeared that all the planning for the event and all the construction had left his Director with a rather terrible headache that would not go away. He even appeared to grow a few grey hairs from the strain of planning. Still, despite the pain, his Director seemed rather pleased with himself.

A fight club truly had been a marvelous idea.

Create an arena and have Sephiroth be the main opponent for the fight. Then open it for a free for all to Shinra, the public of Midgar, and anyone who wanted to come participate. Make it a seven day trial with a betting pool, and the game would be rigged to their advantage. 

The perfect plan.

In the arena below, Sephiroth had just felled another opponent. Not killed. The game wasn’t meant to be lethal. And anyone who could last a decent amount of time against Sephiroth was surely an asset worth looking into. After all, there were several benefits to just such an event. 

“How did you come up with this idea, Tuesti?” Scarlett stalked forward to stand by the man, who was dry swallowing his pills. “This doesn’t seem like your area of expertise, unless I’m mistaken?”

Reeve sat back, resting his head against the back of his chair. He didn’t open his eyes, though it was clear he heard every word.

“An old friend I had lunch with talked about some sort of underground arena down in Wall Market,” Reeve waved off. “He off-handedly mentioned something along the lines of ‘what do you think would happen if Sephiroth got involved’. And while I doubt I could convince him to go into battle in a place like Wall Market, the thought stuck with me.”

Scarlet looked unconvinced, but even if she chose to pry into Tuesti’s whereabouts, she wouldn’t find any trace of him in Sector 6. The President had much the same thought, though he found himself doubting that his shy little Director went anywhere near such a place. Reeve was by far the most clean director he had ever worked with outside of Professor Gast, and even the man’s strange disappearance made him pale in comparison to Tuesti.

“Then I suppose we have this friend of yours to thank as well,” the President mused, though everyone knew he had no intention of doing such a thing. 

“The next opponent has entered the arena,” Heideggar suddenly declared with that barking laugh of his. “Shall we place a few more bets?”

Reeve glanced up at the person entering the arena as the announcers they hired gave the next opponent an eager welcome. He waved off the woman dressed as a honey bee that was taking their bets, going back to massaging his head. The poor man couldn’t even enjoy his handiwork. 

A pity.

The President turned his attention back to the fight after placing his own bet, pleased to see that he predicted correctly as the fool didn’t even last a minute before Sephiroth cut the man down. 

His prized weapon was as stoic as ever, doing his duty as was required of him like the dog he was. The President was quite pleased with the results so far. He was showing his skill as planned, following his orders to perfection.

“You must be proud, Professor Hojo.” He turned to his top scientist.

“Of course I am, Mr. President,” Hojo declared with a sickening pride. “Sephiroth is my greatest creation. Nothing can stop him.”

Of that, the President was certain, even as he placed his bets on the next fool he knew would lose the fight to come. Honestly, it was almost unfair how Sephiroth was winning. The question now was, how would they keep public interest for the next seven days. Hopefully the Director’s headache would fade and they could have just such a discussion.

The President was going to milk this for every second it was worth.

A couple fights (if they could even be called that) later, and Director Tuesti appeared to be feeling much better. He had taken to wearing sunglasses to stave off the glare of the sun, but the Director approached the window and began to actively watch the happenings below. 

“I think,” Director Tuesti mused with a thoughtful hum, “that I’ll bet on this next one. This fight has the prospect to be rather… interesting, I believe.”

The bee clad woman who was taking bets startled for a moment before rushing over to take his bet as Sephiroth’s next opponent entered the arena. Intrigued by what had caught the Director of Urban Development’s eye, the other Directors, and even the President himself, moved closer to the glass window. 

And it was a rather bizarre sight to see.

“Is that man a Soldier?” the President asked the room.

“I’ve certainly never seen him before,” Lazard shook his head. “But I can check. Perhaps he is one of the ones who prefer to wear the helmet?”

“He’s not a Soldier I recognize,” Veld agreed with Lazard, already turning to the television that was doing a close up on the man. “But he has the enhancements for it.”

“The hair alone would be a give away,” Rufus remarked. “How strange.”

As everyone else remained distracted by the odd arrival, Reeve watched on, raising his drink to disguise a wicked smile crawling up his lips. 

—-----------------------------------

Sephiroth was completely and utterly bored.

Just a week ago, he had finished his recent “treatment” under Hojo and was sent back to his room where Angeal and Genesis were waiting for him to have a spar. They’d taken one look at him and ushered him into his apartment to rest. He’d promised to reschedule, even as his body was still adjusting, and they were meant to have their fight this coming Wednesday.

Those plans, of course, had been thrown off by a message demanding Sephiroth be available for the next seven days for Shinra’s latest promotional stunt. A fighting event, open to the public, where anyone and everyone could sign up to pit their might against Shinra’s mightiest weapon.

It was theatre, Sephiroth knew. A show to Midgar and all the world. Genesis had burst into insane laughter at the thought, and Angeal had simply sighed and told Sephiroth he wished him well.

There wasn’t anything the three could do about the situation, other than to promise to be worthy sparring partners later on in the week ahead. Orders were orders, and Sephiroth was trained to obey. 

“AND ANOTHER UPSET FOR OUR CHALLENGER!”

“THAT’S JUST TOO BAD! BUT OUR SILVER ELITE REIGNS SUPREME!”

The crowd burst into cheers as Sephiroth released a sigh, watching as his most recent challenger was carried off the field. 

There were hardly any that lasted a solid minute, let alone two. This entire event was promising to drag out for hours each day with barely a challenge to be seen. 

There had been a few who held their own. A young man named Kunsel had caught his eye. He’d managed to use his wits and mind to nearly trick Sephiroth on occasions. The fight itself had only lasted six minutes, but it was six minutes longer than most. Another man named Luxerie had managed to hold his own, constantly getting back up and throwing himself into the fray. His determination was something Sephiroth admired. This fight lasted four minutes. Both held quite the promise as potential First Class Soldiers in the future. Even the wild Third Class by the name of Roche had certainly surprised him. Though wild and free-spirited, Roche fought like he drove, constantly charging forwards and seeking the next thrill. This fight lasted two and a half minutes. 

They were nowhere near the level of challenge that Genesis and Angeal evoked in him, but they were decent enough, and Sephiroth had motioned to the three after their fights, a discreet gesture that only Genesis and Angeal would have picked up on. Those three had impressed him. Angeal and Genesis had noted their talent too, and Zack Fair seemed pleased by Kunsels performance.

Speaking of, his two dear friends and Angeal’s apprentice were watching from a balcony high up to the right of the President’s suite. Sephiroth had cast glances up there on occasions, but now he titled his head back and looked at his friends through half-closed eyes.

He was so utterly bored and they knew it.

“Just a little longer,” Angeal seemed to mouth at him, clearly pitying his position.

“Don’t encourage him,” Genesis huffed, not bothering to hide the way his mouth moved from Sephiroth’s inquiring gaze, a smug little grin on his face. “Perhaps if he gets bored enough the onlookers will get tired, too. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” Angeal seemed to grumble.

Sephiroth let a small smile take over his face, pleased by his friend’s banter, even if it was at his expense. Things had been tense between them, and while Sephiroth felt the effects of his own suffering, he was pleased to know his friends were enjoying themselves.

He would endure this torment so long as his friends could laugh at ease again.

“AND FOR OUR NEXT OPPONENT! A MAN SURROUNDED IN MYSTERY WITH HAIR LIKE A CHOCOBO, WELCOME THE ONE AND ONLY CLOUD STRIFE!”

The announcers were quite good at building up the opposing side, Sephiroth decided. He had to wonder where the President found them as they appeared to be professionals. It wasn’t his job to ask questions, though, even if he was curious. There were some mysteries he was to be kept away from, and it often wasn’t worth asking.

The announcers weren’t wrong, though. The man who was walking into the stadium did, indeed, have hair like a chocobo.

Sephiroth found it strange that he didn’t recognize this Cloud. The man was clearly mako enhanced as was the tale told by his sky blue mako eyes, and Sephiroth was somewhat surprised to see visible hints of green. He would have suspected mako poisoning, but every step this man made towards him was sure and unbothered. Sephiroth had never seen a man so adjusted to mako outside of himself, Genesis, and Angeal. It spoke to the strength and power this man held.

The man was clad in all black, a deeper color black than the Soldier First Uniforms, and half the uniform looked to be a mockery of just that same uniform. The First Class Uniforms being a recent design meant that this man had to be a Soldier if he were to know the ins and outs enough to recreate it in his own style.

A black turtleneck that was disrupted by a zipper straight down the middle. The pants, often cargo pants, were a looser fitting style. He wore a sort of apron off to one side, and old combat boots. Both arms were bare, and the left arm had a red ribbon tied around it. Even his shoulder pauldron was odd, as it was a sleek black with a wolf head in the dead center. It was as if he saw the outfit of the Soldiers and saw it lacking, choosing to keep certain aspects and throwing out others. Every point of this aspect seemed to scream that this Cloud was dissatisfied with Soldier. 

The man came heavily equipped, as well. Sephiroth counted at least six blades, and he wondered if there were more hidden away. And while Sephiroth didn’t know that many Soldiers outside of those in his immediate sphere of influence, the department itself was small. He would have at least heard about a Soldier who carried six blades around. Unless this was meant to be an enemy of Shinra. Which would make sense given the outfit, the blades, and the strange mako enhancements. 

But even that didn’t feel right. 

Hojo and Hollander were the only scientists who would have such skills as to enhance a man this much. They kept their research close to their chests. Destroying anyone who tried to get close. Even the recent problem with Avalanche and their Doctor Fuhito had proven that an outside doctor would have little luck truly recreating what Hojo and Hollander had accomplished. 

Perhaps this was a test from Hojo, then?

Again, that felt wrong. Hojo wasn’t one for memorabilia. And allowing any sort of pet project to wear something like a wolf’s head or a red ribbon would be strange. The fact that both were on the same arm seemed to mean something to this stranger. Everything about this man seemed to mean something. 

From the way he dressed to the way he walked. It was as if he was trying to convey one thing and one thing alone. 

He was here for a fight.

Sephiroth watched as Cloud reached behind himself at the waist and pulled loose a singular, large blade with an extra large hilt. There was something intricate about the design of such a blade that told Sephiorth the blade could widen, but not to the full length of the hilt for which it rested on. A strange weapon, to be sure. Perhaps the blades were connected? 

“Who are you, Soldier?” Sephiroth called to the man.

“I’m not a Soldier,” Cloud responded in kind. “And as for who I am? You’re about to find out.”

In the first second, Cloud took a stance. In the next, the man moved.

The speed alone shocked Sephiroth because no one had been able to move so quickly today. Having done lackluster battle after lackluster battle all day, Sephiroth found himself moving a little too slow for comfort, and he barely blocked the strike that nearly came down on his head. 

If Sephiroth had to guess, this man was at a speed close to that of Angeal and Genesis. But that felt like the wrong assumption. No one was as fast as Genesis and Angeal except Sephiroth, himself. And he was faster than them. For this warrior to be on par with his two friends was unheard of. 

Cloud also seemed ticked.

“I didn’t come here for  some boring fight,” Cloud growled like a feral Nibelwolf. “Fight me like the warrior you are!”

A warrior?

Not a weapon?

There was something in those words, at the mere distinction, that eased Sephiroth’s heart into this battle. He gave the gutsy Soldier a grin and launched him across the field, more than pleased when the man twisted in mid-air and landed on his feet like a cat who wouldn’t give up its nine lives so easily.

He would still need to hold back, of course, but this fight was already gearing up to be a worthy one. 

This time, Sephiroth was the one to spring forward, launching across the space and allowing Masamune to strike. A giddy elation rippled through his spine as Cloud blocked each furious swipe of Masamune with expert ease.

“Your blade,” Sephiroth called as Cloud jumped out of the way. “Does it have a name?”

“Yeah. Tsurugi.”

“Tsurugi. A fine name.”

Cloud seemed attuned to him. It was as if Cloud could anticipate the fact that Sephiroth was gearing up for a better fight, and was preparing as such. That was a surprising thought that made Sephiroth shiver minutely, as Cloud once more reached for the blades at his back, pulling out another blade that had a handle built into the side of the blade. A Hollow Blade, Sephiroth noted. Those were rare.

Dual wielding was not a common practice among Soldier. Angeal dabbled in it from time to time when he felt compelled to pull the Buster Sword into the fray, but most Soldiers followed in Sephiroth and Genesis’ footsteps, preferring a singular blade. This Soldier, however, seemed comfortable. He moved into a stance to accommodate the second blade with ease. Dual wielding was one thing, but even Angeal had to pause a fraction of a second to think about what to do. 

Just who was this strange Soldier?

Sephiroth found this was a question he was willing to risk asking, but not right now. Now, there was a true fight to be had. 

Their first round of strikes had been a test of the other’s skill. Both were clearly pleased with the results and Sephiroth found a thrill at the thought of the true game beginning. This had to be the fight he’d been waiting for. Even if it lasted a few short minutes, just the prospect of the game, having a worthy opponent equal to that of Angeal and Genesis, was something that had him brimming with excitement.

He moved first this time, as well, lunging at Cloud with an impressive swing that met with the barrier rather than his intended target. The audience let out a startled gasp as the barrier seemed to threaten to give, but the two ignored the sound. Cloud had launched himself into the air at the last minute and was now bringing his blades downwards as he twisted his body into an impressive spin. The first blade, Sephiroth managed to block, but the second Cloud used to springboard back overhead and land behind Sephiroth. 

Sephiroth spun around quickly, slashing Masamune through the air to try and distract Cloud. But Cloud moved expertly, blocking with his own speed before pushing Sephiroth back.

The feeling of being thrown backwards, his feet sliding across the dirt floor, was a feeling he only got during the occasional fight with a Grandhorn or a Behemoth.

And never to this extent. 

He’d been thrown halfway across the arena, a sizable gap between them that Cloud was quickly closing in.

There was a strange sensation building up in Sephiroth’s chest as their blades continued to clash over and over again. He had no idea how to describe the feeling it was portraying. But there was a tightness to his chest, and there were moments when it felt as though his heart stopped beating, followed by the sensation of his breath catching. His eyes burned with every move Cloud made, and Sephiroth yearned to meet every strike.

At some point in the fight, Sephiroth managed to disarm Cloud of the larger of the two blades. He feared the fight would soon be over, only to be proven wrong as Cloud made up for the action by pulling a blade that was smaller than the other two, but no less massive. A sawtooth blade. An interesting choice, and it had a twin at Cloud’s back.

The clash continued, on the ground, in the air. There was even a moment when they were using the walls of the barrier to launch at each other. 

The battle wasn’t without blood, either. Sephiroth got a strike across Cloud’s cheek, to which Cloud retaliated by nicking the tip of Sephiroth’s ear. A missed block resulted in a swipe of Masamune across the bicep on the arm opposite the ribbon. To which Cloud ducked low with the Hollow Blade and managed to swipe across Sephiroth’s shin. A well timed jab at Cloud’s lower back resulted in a well aimed slash across Sephiroth’s chest.

Sephiroth had never felt more exhilarated in his life. 

“You’re holding back,” Sephiroth accused, though it was playful, even to his own ears.

“So are you,” Cloud huffed, breathing hard, but grinning all the more as he landed on the barrier. “But I did promise a couple people I would make this fight last around an hour so they could win a bet.”

A wave of adrenaline crashed up Sephiroth’s spine and he launched.

Cloud decided not to block this strike, letting Sephiroth regain his balance before he nearly crashed into the barrier. Instead, he lunged forward and reclaimed his main blade. To Sephiroth’s fascination, rather than sheath the other two already out, he began to combine them into one blade.

Sephiroth couldn’t let the process be easy, now could he?

With only three of the six blades attached, Sephiroth launched again, this time Cloud chose to parry. Despite the incomplete blade, Sephiroth had to marvel at the beauty and strength of Tsurugi. The blades already attached were holding their own, not budging in the slightest, despite Sephiroth’s efforts to dislodge them with Masamune. It was a marvel, and fine craftsmanship.

“Tell me, who designed this blade of yours?”

“I did.”

“Truly?”

“It made for a nice hobby. I made my bike, too.”

Talking with Cloud in battle felt natural as it sometimes did with Angeal and Genesis. At least, when Genesis wasn’t trying to prove himself as the better Soldier. There was a natural ease to this broken flow of conversation, and Sephiroth could tell Cloud was a man of few words, naturally. A man of action over poetry. 

It made this fight all the more refreshing. 

“Hour’s almost up,” Cloud said and moved to the left sharply while throwing one of his blades at Sephiroth. 

The action was enough to startle Sephiroth, as he scrambled to kick off and match pace. He barely blocked the dagger, flinging it to the right and away from Cloud. 

To a fool, as most of the audience was, it would appear Cloud was running. Sephiroth saw it for what he was really doing. Buying himself time to put Tsurugi together.

The game had finally become a battle.

Cloud managed to get two more blades, the second sawtooth and a second dagger, attached to the main blade of Tsurugi. This left only the sixth blade to be attached by the time Sephiroth caught up, and he wasn’t about to let Cloud retrieve it.

The dagger lay a fair distance away and was clearly the piece that would lock the rest permanently in place. The gap by which the blade needed to snap into was big enough to fit Masamune in at least three times, and if Sephiroth timed it right, he could probably disengage the entire thing. He just needed to be quick. 

Focus. Move. Strike. And-

Sephiroth’s eyes widened as Cloud jerked right, expertly deflecting his timed strike and charging towards the last dagger on the field at a speed that had Sephiroth re-assessing.

Sephiroth was using his full speed at this point. He had no intention of hurting this worthy opponent. Cloud was a fine combatant, and he was far easier to dance with than Genesis or Angeal. Whoever this strange Soldier was, Sephiroth felt he finally found some he could comfortably spar with. A blessing he never knew he needed until this moment.

Still, he found, in this moment, that he still liked to win. So, yes, he was using his full speed. He would stop Cloud Strife from fully forming his blade and he would defeat the blonde before the hour was up. Just as was expected of him. 

And yet.

It happened in between blinks. 

One second, Sephiroth was charging Cloud with the intent to block him from grabbing the knife. Moving at a speed that was faster than Cloud could manage.  

The next saw the smallest of the blades, the final piece of the puzzle, disarming Sephiroth of his precious Masamune. 

Cloud had gotten to the dagger before Sephiroth could finish blinking. Somehow, he managed to move at speed Sephiroth wasn’t anticipating.

With a simple dagger, Cloud had managed to hook the flat of the blade under Sephiroth’s wrist and yank upward, forcing Sephiroth to release Masamune or risk having his hand chopped off. Choosing the former, and aided by the way the hilt of the dagger rotated to dig into his palm, Sephiroth did just that. He released Masamune and let her fly into the air.

Sephiroth… had never been disarmed before.

The audience around them went deathly quiet as Masamune sunk into the ground a short distance away. From those closest to the action, creeping up the stands to reach Genesis, Angeal, and Zack, curling up to meet the President’s suite; silence reigned supreme. 

(And in the President’s suite, Reeve Tuesti glanced at his pocket watch and grinned ferally.)

That strange feeling in his chest, the one he couldn’t explain, suddenly changed. His chest was still tight as Masamune was thrown from his hand. His heart raced wildly as Cloud clicked the final blade in place, creating a Buster-like-sword. And the feeling of power radiating off of Cloud as his Limit Break threatened to trigger sent a feeling of dread and awe through Sephiroth’s core. 

There were many firsts today. 

Never had Sephiroth met such a worthy and skilled opponent. 

Never had Sephiroth had such fun in a fight before. 

Never had Sephiroth felt as though a battle was a dance before.

Never had Sephiroth been disarmed before.

And never had anyone ever managed to move faster than Sephiroth before.

Sephiroth was barely processing as he made a move for Masamune, only to be thrown back by the flat side of the Buster sword at his chest. He hit the barrier with a loud bang that sent shock waves through the spell, threatening to break the thing, as the audience behind screamed and started to scatter. Sephiroth felt the wind knocked out of his lungs with the action.

He barely moved as Cloud charged forward, slamming into the barrier where Sephiroth had been standing and shattering the magic on impact with nothing but his blade. Again, Sephiroth made to lunge for Masamune, but Cloud was faster. Tsurugi swung at him, this time with the sharp end, but Sephiroth rolled out of the way. Cloud didn’t dare let up, following his own swipe with a flurry of attacks that were on par to his speed with Masamune. 

Maybe faster.

It appeared Cloud also wasn’t cruel, as he telegraphed his next swing at a slower speed, allowing Sephiroth the chance to slide under the blade and grab Masamune. It was as he managed to block Cloud’s next swing that Sephiroth realized Cloud had been toying with him. The pace increased and their swings grew faster and faster. 

Distantly, Sephiroth was aware of the crowd that had scattered slowly working its way back into the stands, despite the lack of protection. Sephiroth was pleased to see Cloud read his intention, or perhaps Sephiroth read Cloud’s intentions, as they both adjusted their fight to ensure they stayed away from the vulnerable audience.

Sephiroth wondered what Angeal and Genesis were seeing in this moment. There was no doubt in Sephiroth’s mind that Cloud was his equal. He could picture his friends now. Angeal would be watching in awe, especially since this Soldier used a Buster type sword, and he was bound to be glad Sephiroth had someone to spar properly with. Genesis would be jealous, and the thought made Sephiroth smile away.

Cloud, in response, pushed Sephiroth back.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Just a thought,” Sephiroth said. “My friend, Genesis, has always wished to best me in battle. He’s bound to be jealous of your skill.”

Cloud hummed. “Then I guess I better make him extra jealous.”

Cloud was his equal. That was something that Sephiroth had slowly come to terms with as they fought this last hour. Well, honestly, he believed the young Soldier to be more on par with Genesis and Angeal, and had only come to terms with Cloud being his equal in the last fifteen minutes. 

But in the time it took for his heart to beat just once, even that was thrown out the window of Sephiroth’s carefully compiled mind. 

At a speed that Sephiroth barely registered, Cloud was upon him. The swing was coming from below, and Sephiroth found that even if he did block, the strike would be painful. So to avoid being cut open, Sephiroth used his counter strike to propel himself into the air.

A mistake.

Because, in the end, Cloud was stronger than him. Faster than him. 

Sephiroth had only just stopped his ascent when Cloud suddenly appeared above him and began conducting a spinning technique where he leaned forward and seemed to gain momentum mid air as he spun in a circle, channeling all that pent up energy into his blade. That had him slamming the blade into Sephiroth and throwing him into the ground with a massive BOOM!

The shockwave alone shook the whole stadium as Sephiroth hit the ground, creating a massive crater beneath him that shook the whole stadium.

The thing was.

The thing was .

Sephiroth had an impressive reaction time. It wasn’t that Sephiroth never got knocked down. Just that he always had a way of springing back to his feet as though it never happened. It was a feat he was proud of. A skill he honed, himself. With his own skill and practice.

And yet… and yet… 

Cloud stood above him, having landed on his feet, with Tsurugi raised to rest a mere inch away from his neck. The entire stadium seemed to collectively hold its breath as they watched the scene before them in disbelief. Sephiroth didn’t dare move, panting through the loss of breath that came from being thrown into the ground.

It occurred to him, as he lay there with his life in Cloud’s hands, that this had truly all been just a game to Cloud Strife. 

This man could have killed him at any time.

The thought sent a shiver through Sephiroth, a feeling he was becoming oddly acquainted with. Laying there at Cloud’s mercy, Sephiroth thought he would be angry. Frustrated. It was a feeling he saw often on Genesis. Even Angeal shared the sentiment on occasions. Sephiroth was their better, and failure made them angry. 

But Sephiroth did not feel angry as he lay there, trying to remember how to breathe.

No. This wasn’t anger. It was a thrill . A giddy sort of bubbliness he had never felt before.

He lost.

He lost a fight! He lost against someone else who was better! Stronger! There was a soul out there who could best him, and here he stood! Sephiroth was ecstatic! He had never experienced such a thing before and he craved it like anyone craved oxygen. He wanted more of Cloud Strife. He wanted to see that Limit Break burst forth. He wanted to feel the agony of defeat over and over again. 

“THIS… THIS IS AMAZING! LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! RIGHT BEFORE OUR VERY EYES! THE GREAT SEPHIROTH HAS BEEN DEFEATED! THE CHOCOBO ACTUALLY DID IT!”

Around them, the people in the arena went absolutely wild. Cries of shock, surprise, joy, confusion, outrage. It was all so overwhelming. Sephiroth tuned out the thunderous cries around him to focus on that of Cloud still standing over him, even as he pulled the impressive blade away. 

He was in awe of this man.

Cloud was walking away.

“Cloud. Wait,” Sephiroth moved to pick himself off the ground. “Will you spar with me again?”

Cloud hadn’t gone far, a fact Sephiroth was glad for, when he stopped. The fight had done a number on Sephiroth. It was as though Cloud knew how to fight him, how to clip his wings, and he had used the last hour to do so gradually and efficiently. Sephiroth’s attempt to pick himself back up had rendered him back to his knees. His arms and legs were threatening to give out. 

But he needed to spar with Cloud again. Need to chase this beautiful feeling of loss. 

“Sorry,” Cloud said. “But I’m not sure if that will be possible. You see, I’m not Shinra. And I have no intention of becoming Shinra, either.”

Sephiroth’s eyes widened as that beautifully giddy feeling suddenly became a righteous fear. 

Cloud was leaving.

“Cloud-”

He pitched forward, his body failing him. He was about to learn what a faceplant was, he noted hysterically. Cloud had truly done a number on him, and that last strike, though still not bothering to use his limit break, had used all the strength and power Cloud had to make sure Sephiroth wouldn’t get up. It was a glorious feeling that he never wanted to end. And yet the source of that was leaving him behind. He couldn’t even follow. It was like a new form of torture, and Sephiroth was attempting to move. He would beg if he had to. He just didn’t want Cloud to leave.

Angeal, his savior, stopped him from experiencing his first faceplant, sliding into the crater and supporting all of Sephiroth’s dead weight. Out of the corner of his eye, Sephiroth could see Angeal’s “puppy” bouncing nervously from foot to foot. 

“Zack. Help me get him out of this crater!” Angeal barked at his student, to which Zack complied and lifted the rest of Sephiroth’s weight.

But where was the flash of red leather? Where was Genesis?

That answer came sooner than Sephiroth anticipated as Angeal and Zack carried him out of the crater. It was just in time to see Cloud launch Genesis into the barrier opposite the one that shattered, creating an impressive shockwave that shook the entire arena once more. 

Sephiroth could only assume what had been said and what had caused such a reaction. 

Cloud turned to meet his eyes one last time. Mako enhanced, but far more normal than Sephiroth’s own. Many dropped their gaze and refused to meet Sephiroth’s eye because of the unnaturalness of them. Yet here was Cloud Strife, the man who bested him, not breaking eye contact. And for whatever reason, a strange feeling in his gut, Sephiroth broke eye contact first.

A mistake.

Because Cloud bolted.

—----------------------------

In the President Booth, everyone seemed to be in an uproar.

Heidegger was barking orders into his phone. Scarlet was typing frantically into her tablet. Lazard was sending instructions to the guards. The three were in a frenzy trying to secure the stadium to prevent any sort of escape. 

“He’s not a Soldier,” Lazard suddenly declared to the room. “I’ve been through every Soldier record we have. There isn’t a single person who matches his make or description.”

The President’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Hojo.

“He certainly isn’t one of mine,” Hojo waved off. “I’d know if he was. I’ve yet to succeed in making anything even remotely similar to the perfection that is Sephiroth.”

“And yet, that perfection was bested,” the President quipped, turning away from Hojo.

The head of Research and Development scowled, clearly displeased with this outcome. A dangerous displeasure, as his colleagues well knew. Sephiroth was in for a world of hurt in the future, and none pitied him.

Veld had yet to return from his own capture efforts, so the President had little to turn to. Hollander was forbidden from being in the booth due to his most recent blunder. Palmer was shaking like a fool, holding his tea cup and being entirely unhelpful. Hojo was clearly not a good conversationalist at the moment and never had been. His son was far too smug for his liking, and the other three idiots were busy. 

And yet, to his surprise, Rufus stood and approached Reeve Tuesti. It occurred to the President that his youngest director had yet to move away from the window.

“A rather interesting fight, don’t you think, Tuesti?”

Tuesti’s head tilted to Rufus, still watching the strange Soldier in the arena. “I predicted as much. He seemed different from the others.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer his son had expected, nor was it the answer the President predicted.

“And what made him so different?” Rufus inquired.

“Because he wasn’t afraid.”

This Cloud Strife had been walking away from Sephiroth, leaving him behind in the crater, when Rhapsodos approached. The President found himself getting closer to the window to better watch as Rhapsodos waxed his usual poetics and insults.It wasn’t a surprise when Strife had enough and launched Rhpasodos into the barrier opposite the one that was already broken. Nor was it a surprise when Strife suddenly turned and locked eyes with Sephiroth.

It was a surprise when Sephiroth looked away first.

The man threw himself at Rhapsodos, who had slid down the barrier into a heap on the stadium floor. His rage had clearly been invoked because the fool made to charge at Strife. Only to be thrown into the barrier a second time. And to add insult to injury, Strife launched himself at Rhapsodos, planting his boot firmly into Rhapsodos stomach and shattering the barrier with the impact, alone.

“I want him found!” the President barked at his directors, even as he knew he would never find the man. Call it a hunch, but they had underestimated this Cloud Strife, and now he was beyond his grasp. Not that President Shinra would let the impossible stop him from making his people try anyways. “Bring him to me at once!”

—---------------------------

Cloud Strife, despite his bright blonde hair, managed to disappear into the crowd. Most of the Turks and infantry had been assigned to the barrier that was already broken, or to the entrance, assuming one of the two would be the best exit. A mistake as they watched in surprise as Strife made his own daring exit. 

It took time for Reno and Rude to find the idiot again, and by the time they had, the mysterious mako enhanced man was on a motorbike. The likes of which they’d never seen before, which meant it wasn’t one of Shinra’s. 

“This just got way more interesting,” Reno mused as the man met his gaze and smirked. “I’d say he just issued a challenge.”

“Easy, partner. This man just took down Sephiroth.”

“Yeah. Maybe he did. But I bet you he’s never gone toe to toe with a Turk. Let alone two.”

Strife still hadn’t broken eye contact as he revved the engine and sped away. Reno could feel the thrill of a chase bubbling inside his gut as he moved to follow after Rude. Several Soldiers were quickly deployed to follow Strife, including that Roche guy who had fought Sephiroth just hours earlier. 

Reno didn’t pity the guy having to go after this strange Soldier after a fight against the strongest Soldier. Well, that was debatable, he supposed. This new stranger did just beat Sephiroth, so did that make him the strongest Soldier?

Whatever. 

Reno was just glad he’d get the chance to wipe that smirk off his face.

By the time they got into the helicopter and were up in the air, it was revealed that their mysterious Cloud Strife wasn’t actually making any plans to leave the city. In fact, one of the Soldiers who had decided to stay behind Roche pointed out that he wasn’t trying to lose them, either. He was just… leading them on a merry goose chase. 

“What the heck is this guy's angle?” Reno grumbled as Rude was the one to pilot them to the marked location. “Come in. Beat Sephiroth. Play games? I don’t buy it.”

“Neither do I,” Rude agreed. “But whatever his game is, we need to catch him fast.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Roche is already conducting several layers of property damage,” Rude informed his partner. “In fact, it seems like our Cloud Strife is leading him away from civilian homes to minimize that nightmare.”

Actually, now that Reno thought about it, the last set of coordinates had been narrowed down to a series of Shinra owned warehouses rather than the surrounding civilian household.

“I’ve got eyes,” came the voice of Cissnei as Reno finally put his headset on. “No clear shot, though. He’s managed to lose Roche.”

Reno spotted the spiky blonde hair zipping in and out of several warehouses. Because of the angle they were entering the scene from, he could also see that it wasn’t so much that he lost Roche, but that a series of sharp movements involving a lot of hip swaying had forced Roche to crash into a metal support beam. Strife was a skilled biker, and his bike’s design proved that. 

“But it looks like Zack Fair is on the hunt,” Reno mused with a pleased hum. “Glad they sent someone more competent at their job.”

“Fair might actually be able to catch him,” Rude agreed. “Might even talk him into joining.”

That would be fun. Then Reno could really beat the smirk off that smug face.

—---------------------------------

Zack had been just as stunned as the rest of the Midgar to watch this strange Soldier beat up Sephiroth. And he was just as stunned as the rest of Soldier to learn that this strange man wasn’t even a Soldier. So when Director Lazard personally called him and told him to hop on a bike and catch this strange man, he left Sephiroth with Angeal and a couple scientists, and made chase. 

This guy was pretty cool, after all. He wanted to learn more about him. Maybe get some pointers. 

Cissnei was kind enough to patch him into the Turks’ comms so he could pinpoint the location. Not that he really needed it. Roche was a wild one, and he left a pathway a mile long. He did pass the poor guy as his bike exploded, but that wasn’t what he was supposed to be focusing on. 

“Zack. I think he’s spotted you,” came Cissnei’s warning. “He’s playing games with the others, so be careful.”

“You let a Soldier onto our comms, Ciss?” Reno whined. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful,” Zack said as he came face to face with Cloud Strife.

Cloud revved his engine, tilting his head a bit like a curious chocobo. It was a tempting little taunt if ever Zack had seen one, and he was more than willing to give chase. Zack moved first, racing towards Cloud and taking a sharp turn when Cloud sped away. 

“Wait, I just want to talk!” Zack called over the wind. “Promise!”

“Lose your tail!” came the challenging words from Cloud.

In response, Zack took his helmet off and chucked it.

What followed this action was a series of fast pace fancy driving that had them zig-zagging in and out of the warehouse district. Funnily enough, there were several hidden tunnels connecting the warehouses together, and Zack could only imagine that this chase scene looked like something out of a classic Stamp Cartoon. A fact that wasn’t helped when Zack accidentally lost sight of Cloud in the maze of tunnels and was doing his best to try and get on the same path again.

Then, finally, Cloud came to a stop in the middle of one of the warehouses.

“Yo!” Zack made sure to stop a fair distance away, not wanting to spook his charge. “That was some real fancy driving! You’ll have to teach me, sometime!”

Zack dismounted his bike, a show that he didn’t wish to keep up their game of tag. Cloud didn’t dismount, but he seemed to relax, leaning casually against the bike. That was a good sign. Maybe they could actually talk!

“It was really cool what you did back there! Think you could teach me that, too?”

“I don’t think I’ll be teaching you anything, Zack,” Cloud said fondly. “Believe me, beating Sephiroth is easier than it looks. It just takes a certain level of spite.”

Zack cocked his head, “What does that mean?”

Cloud huffed, almost like a laugh. Zack was going to assume it was a laugh. He was also going to assume that Cloud was smiling. It looked like a smile. It was real tiny, though. Hard to see from this distance, even with enhanced vision.

Oh. This guy’d been hurt before. Hurt real bad. Zack really just wanted to pull him into an embrace and keep him safe. He wasn’t sure why the feeling was so strong, but Cloud was looking at him so fondly. Zack noticed Cloud’s voice was much softer than before.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Cloud shrugged, sitting back up. “Don’t worry about it, though. Just remember, if you really want to beat Sephiroth, it takes a certain level of spite and the urge to just go feral.”

“Spite and… being feral?”

Those felt like words to live by, actually.

“Hey, tha-!”

Before Zack could finish his thanks, Cloud had gripped the handlebars and zipped away, off into another tunnel. Zack debated giving chase, but given how confusing these things were, he decided that was stupid and made for the door with his bike. He waved to Cissnei, signaling he lost the guy, and prepared for whatever frantic lecture Angeal was bound to give him in his panicked state of having two of his friends downed.

—---------------------------------------

It was well into the night by the time the wheels of Fenrir graced the presence of the Sector 5 church. Cloud pushed the doors open with a gentle hand, bracing for the gun that was immediately shoved in his face.

“I’m back,” he told Barret with a huff. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Barret grumbled, stowing his gun arm away, and using his robotic arm to drag the bike the rest of the way inside. “Now get your butt over there. We need to settle a debate.”

Tifa was kind enough to pass Cloud a plate of food piled high. He gladly settled himself on the floor between Tifa and Aerith, watching as Yuffie and Cait Sith bickered back and forth about something.

“You were so totally cheating!”

“So were you, lass!”

“I don’t hear you denying it!”

“We tried a card thing to pick who would go next,” Nanaki explained as he stretched himself out at Cloud’s feet. “It backfired. Yuffie, Cait, and Vincent were all cheating.”

Cloud shot a look to Vincent who was being awkwardly quiet in the corner. Honestly, the list didn’t surprise him.

“Everybody shut up and gather round!” Cid suddenly called into the church, coming back from one of the back rooms with an empty bottle of Banora White in hand. “I’ve got a plan.”

He had them all gather in a circle, excluding Cloud, who already had a turn. With a grin at the others, he grabbed the bottle and gave it a spin, quickly scampering back into their newly formed circle.

There were several cries of protest when the bottle finally stopped.

Chapter Text

It was late at night, or perhaps it was early morning. It was hard to tell because the moon was still high in the sky and there was no trace of dawn anywhere on the horizon. Not that anyone could see the horizon with the fog that covered Midgar. Reeve scowled at it, wishing that the sun would just come up as he stirred his coffee with one of the little stir-sticks. Not that he needed to stir things. The coffee was black. Like the sky. And how Vincent claimed his soul to be. 

Reeve was exhausted.

Reeve turned around in time to see Heidegger slam his fist on the table. Scarlet startled so badly she fell out of her chair. Lazard jumped to his feet. Palmer jolted away and knocked his cold butter tea to the floor. Rufus sat bolt upright. And even the President seemed to startle at the action. The only ones who didn’t react were Veld, Hojo, and Reeve himself. 

Reeve sighed, taking a long swig of his coffee as Heidegger went off about accusing Scarlet and Lazard of some mess.

How they’d even got to this point, Reeve didn’t know. He’d been zoning out for most of it. They’d stopped talking about the actual issue hours ago, and the meeting was dragging on pointlessly. Probably because they were all too tired to think straight.

Maybe he could just shut his eyes and get away with chatting with Vincent. He definitely wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

“Director Tuesti.” And those plans were dashed with one address from the President. “What do you think of the situation?”

“Me, sir?” Reeve cocked his head curiously as all eyes turned to him.

“This was your idea,” Scarlet seemed to nag, relieved that she was finally away from Heidegger’s incessant blaming. “What do you think of the matter?”

“Ah.”

What did he think? Were there any thoughts right now? Thoughts were kinda not a priority in his head. Only coffee. He’d need to fix that. What thoughts should he have?

He took a pointedly long sip of his coffee to collect his thoughts, shutting his eyes to momentarily glimpse through Cait’s eyes to see the plans that were drawn out and spread out before his creation.

“I think…” Reeve lowered his cup, already wishing he could just turn back around and make a second cup. “I think we should continue on with the arena.” 

The President had to hold up a hand to stop the others from having an outburst. Reeve swallowed another gulp before the President motioned him to continue. 

“The public is already enjoying the game,” Reeve motioned to the ratings he had handed to the President halfway through the meeting. “And not just in Midgar. The live broadcasting was a hit from Junon to Cosmo Canyon and the Gold Saucer. Continuing that now would not only encourage our popularity, but bring in more contestants, and therefore more money. We’d be spending less on PR because the fans of the game would be interested enough. Canceling the program would mean less money in our pockets, and I know we were all upset by yesterday’s earnings after the bet.”

“And what of our strange Soldier?” Heidegger demanded.

“Would continuing not encourage him to come back?” Reeve snarked right back. “If this is some sort of… escaped project, or whatever you’ve all been going on about, the chance to beat Sephiroth again might be just enough to bring him back and to the forefront. Besides, we know how he operates now. It can’t be too hard to find the threat, can it?”

“And if he beats Sephiroth again?” Veld asked.

“Then I’d say “well done” to whoever managed to create someone that strong,” Reeve said, the words tasting like bile in his mouth. “But that’s not my jurisdiction. This could have been a fluke, or someone could have made an impressive bio weapon to outdo us. Though this being something “out of house” seems unlikely.”

The last comment successfully got the attention off Reeve and back to the pointless bickering and blaming. Reeve settled into the chair, nursing his ever worsening headache at the sleep deprivation. His migraine had left him, but the headache throbbing against his skull wasn’t much better.

He was aware that Lazard, Veld, and Rufus were all eyeing him, but he couldn’t care less. Maybe he should have gotten more coffee before he sat down? It was too late now, of course. 

He could just shut his eyes for a little bit, right?

Time seemed to pass slowly as Reeve chose to let his mind drift over to Cait, focusing instead on the breathing of his beloved companions as they slept, and basking in the presence of Vincent sitting beside him. It was nice, just taking a moment to match his breathing with his loved ones. Under normal circumstances, it would have been enough to will him off to sleep. But there were some times it wasn’t enough. Like right now, as he was forced to keep one ear open on the conversation.

“Mr. President, I would like to use the day to further work on Sephiroth after his… failure. ”

“Of cour-”

“You can’t do that,” Reeve piped up, startling Scarlet into dropping her coffee all over her chest. 

Woman wasn’t even aware he was awake. She probably assumed he had nodded off like Palmer had. Reeve couldn’t find it in himself to feel any pity. That coffee was clearly cold.

“And why does it matter to you what I do with Sephiroth?” Hojo sneered.

“Because Sephiroth is always off his game the day after you ‘spend time’ with him,” Reeve said, getting several looks of shock from around the table. “Everyone knows this. If you spend all of tomorrow? Today? Experimenting on him, then he won’t be fit for the next match.”

“I don’t believe that’s-”

“Director Tuesti does have a point, Professor Hojo,” the President interrupted. “Perhaps it would be best to wait until after the events are over. I forbid you from ‘working’ on Sephiroth until the matches are over.”

Hojo proceeded to fix Reeve with a deadly glare. Reeve, however, ignored the man in favor of going to get more coffee. There wasn’t much else Reeve would be able to do, and that was just fine by him. For now, he would drink his beloved nectar of the goddess and prepare for the nap Annette would make him take.

—------------------

It was another bright and sunny day outside. Not that the people of the Sector 5 slums knew that. Their world was constantly full of the false sun given to them by Shinra, and covered by their steel grey sky. For those who didn’t venture above the plate, it was all they knew. But the people of the Sector 5 slums knew it was a nice day, regardless. As a result, the people gathered around their televisions and radios. Those without, gathered around the giant screen in the center of the slums, eagerly waiting for the big event.

Only to be bitterly disappointed.

“Due to the destruction of the barrier, Shinra is conducting emergency construction protocols to place better safety measures around the stadium. As a result, today’s match will be postponed. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Awww! Come on!”

“But we were so excited!”

“Well, yesterday’s fight was rather intense.”

“That just means tomorrow's fight will be even better, right?”

“This sucks! I want to see Sephiroth fight like he did with the chocobo!”

The rumors and whispers spread wildly through the Sector 5 slums, just as they did everywhere else. The key difference, however, was that those whispers managed to reach the ears of a young woman with vibrant green eyes, and the two children walking by her side.

“Aerith! Aerith! Did you hear? The fight’s been postponed!”

Aerith paused in her walk to greet the cluster of children running over to greet her. In her arms were two baskets, one full of flowers, and the other carefully covered in cloth. A slight breeze swept her hair around, making her bangs fall like a halo around her face. She gently brushed the stray hairs away with a fond hum, crouching to greet the children with eager smiles. Beside her, Denzel and Marlene also came to a stop, though poor Marlene bumped into her with a sleepy yawn.

“I heard,” Aerith told them with a bright smile. “Guess we’ll just have to wait till tomorrow for more excitement, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Sephiroth was so cool! He cut through everyone with his sword! Like swish swish! ”

“His hair is so pretty!”

“But did you see the guy with the puzzle sword?”

Beside her, Denzel gripped her wrist as his metaphorical hackles rose. 

“He was the best, wasn’t he?” the words were said a bit too forcefully to be genuine awe, but the other children hardly noticed.

“That guy was awesome!”

“What was his name again?”

“I think it was Chocobo?”

Aerith burst into giggles, shaking her head and resting a hand on Denzel’s shoulder before he could get upset. “No. His name was Cloud, remember? Cloud Strife. 

“And his sword is called a fusion sword, ‘cause it can fuse into one big blade!” Denzel added eagerly, slipping back into that adoration for his adoptive father that never quite died.

“Yeah! That’s it! Cloud!”

“He was my favorite!”

“Do you think he’ll come back and fight Sephiroth again?”

Most of the kids who were staying here right now would all leave Sector 5 to go find work elsewhere at some point or another within the next few years. Aerith found her smile turning a little sad as she spotted Bruno a short distance away. He lived a good, honest life after Meteor. Had really bonded with Cloud when Kunsel introduced them, and he even helped expand the delivery business after a while. Aerith was proud of the man he would become.

And Oats! Oh, he was so small. Toddling over to Aerith and latching onto her dress with one hand sucking on his thumb. He, like many other kids, had sought sanctuary in the new Leaf House in Edge, created in the honor of Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge by Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart, and Barret Wallace. He became a sort of leader to the new kids, and helped look after them. 

Speaking of Biggs.

“Aerith, hey! You headed out?” came the grinning smile of Biggs as he brushed off his apron. 

It was so different from the Biggs she glimpsed briefly due to platefall. That Biggs was all worry and hard edges, scared to lose, yet willing to fight for what was right. This Biggs had chosen his current battle, and that was teaching kids and raising them. 

“I’m headed to the church, again!” Aerith said brightly. “And I’ve got that radio you lent me, so even if they decide to start the fight again today, I’ll still be able to listen in. But while we’re all stuck waiting, Denzel, Marlene, and I brought these flowers for you to help keep the kids busy.”

Biggs took the offered basket with a relieved smile. She could tell the kids had to be driving him up the wall with their inability to focus on their schoolwork. His apron wasn’t tied right, and his hair was starting to lean a little to one side with how he’d been running his hand through it. Poor guy.

“Hey, by the way, love the new dress,” Biggs offered with a fond nod. “What made you decide to change it up?”

“Oh. Just a promise to someone I met.”

Aerith smoothed a hand down her button-front pink jean dress. Just the other day she had been wearing her usual white sundress with the blue accents. It had to be a funny change, to see her looking so different. The red jacket she wore with the outfit probably clashed with the bright pink, and she’d definitely gotten some odd looks at the fact that she’d left most of the buttons undone at the bottom. 

Though she may have also gotten odd looks because of the two new children she started walking around with. Oh well!

“Welp, see you later, Biggs! Be good for Mr. Biggs, okay kids?”

“Yes, Aerith!” came the chorus from the children as she walked toward the church.

The path to the church led through the train station, which was slowly starting to fill up now that the population was sure that there wasn’t any special event to keep them from their jobs. Everyone still needed to get back to work. 

The trio paused by the gate so Aerith could retrieve her staff, handing her cloth covered basket to Marlene, while Denzel reached into the same crevice to pull out a rather large dagger. Aerith watched the crowd, waiting for someone to notice the similarities to the blade used yesterday in the last fight, and when no one did, she ushered the children into the back alleyway.

“Make sure you hold onto that blade, Denzel,” Aerith instructed softly.

“Got it,” Denzel nodded, lifting the knife of First Tsurugi in the way Cloud had taught him. “I’ll protect us!”

Marlene giggled as she continued to cling to Aerith’s skirt. “You can do it, Denzel!”

These two children. They warmed Aerith’s heart. 

Marlene’s giggling encouragement was followed up by another yawn that had Denzel frowning. Aerith gave him a gentle pat on the head, urging him forward. It was cute to watch as he shifted the knife to one hand and reached out to clasp Marlene’s free hand in his own. Guess she would be doing the real protecting.

To think, just a few weeks ago, or, well, eight and half years in the future, Cloud and Tifa had finally signed those adoption papers. Took them long enough. 

But now all that hard work was undone in the blink of an eye when Gaia got the bright idea to send them all back in time.

Aerith wasn’t grumpy about it. Nope. Not at all. She especially wasn’t grumpy about the fact that Gaia had used her as the source to do so. Why would she be grumpy about that?

“Just remember to leave the drakes to me,” Aerith reminded Denzel softly. 

“I know!” Denzel nodded. “Tifa would scold me if I tried to fight a drake.”

Denzel did his best to guide Marlene through the roads, dragging her to hiding places when they were attacked, and making sure she wasn’t dead on her feet. Which was a good thing to distract the boy with. Denzel wasn’t meant to be born yet, not for another couple years. Yet even at the ripe old age of 10, he wasn’t meant to be fighting, not seriously, at least. She hoped neither Denzel nor Marlene ever actually needed to use the skills Cloud and Tifa had taught them.

Poor Marlene was absolutely exhausted, and the knife soon found its way into Denzel’s belt loop so he could give Marlene a piggy back while holding their precious cargo in the basket around his arm.

This, of course, left Aerith to do all the fighting as they took the back alleys to the church. Not that she minded. It was good practice. 

Felling the last drake, the trio stepped out into the clearing that was just before the church. The monsters around the church had already been cleared out, so Aerith saw no reason to stop Denzel as he let out an excited laugh and sped off towards the entrance. By the time Aerith joined them, Marlene had finished knocking out a pattern in the door, and Denzel was pushing the doors open.

“We have biscuits!” Denzel cheered into the church.

“Bout time!” came the gruff voice of Cid as he took a cigarette out of mouth, threw it to the floor, and stamped it out. “That all you bring us?”

“Well I couldn’t exactly carry a five course meal here just between the kids and I, now could I?” Aerith teased. “We did bring some tea bags, like Tifa requested, though!”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Cid grumbled, and went towards the back of the church.

“HA! I knew she’d have tea!” Yuffie shouted from the rafters, waving a finger at one tiny feline a distance away. “Better than your nasty coffee!”

“You take that back, lassie!” Cait Sith shot back, dangling from the chandelier he was obviously using to stay away from Yuffie. Probably another game of chase to work out energy, much to Cait’s protest. “Coffee’s the best! Admit it!”

“You can’t drink coffee! You can’t drink anything!”

“Both of you get down from there and quit your yelling.” Barret stepped directly under the chandelier. Then he turned to crouch down in front of Marlene as she slid off Denzel’s back. “How you doing, Marlene? You look a little tired, pumpkin?”

“Was counting all night,” Marlene said with a grin and a yawn. “We got lots and lots, daddy!”

“I knew you would, sweetheart!”

“Denzel, would you like some breakfast?” Nanaki came up beside the boy, a fond smile on his face as he relieved the boy of the knife at his hip, setting it beside the door before continuing to speak. “Cloud and Vincent are cooking some drake meat. I’m sure it will go well with the biscuits.”

At the mention of Cloud, Denzel took off to the room behind the church, Nanaki chuckling as he followed behind. The two had grown fond of each other after a short vacation in Cosmo Canyon. Nanaki was probably Denzel’s favorite uncle next to Vincent. Not that Cid, Barret, or Reeve needed to know that.

It was Tifa, her best friend, who finally stepped forward to greet Aerith. 

“Hey, thanks again for getting that tea,” Tifa greeted. “And for watching over the kids.”

“They were no trouble at all!” Aerith beamed. “I think Mom kinda enjoyed having them over!” 

“I can imagine,” Tifa laughed. “Care to join us for some breakfast?”

Just as Nanaki had told Denzel, Cloud and Vincent were cooking the meat of a drake. It was nice to see the two so relaxed. Neither had been given the chance to let their lives calm down. It hadn’t been that long since Cloud was cured of Geostigma and Vincent had been separated from Chaos. With the adoption, along with trying to help the remaining Deepground Soldiers and Shelke, the two had their hands full in the future, and now all that work was wasted.

The two were visible from the door to the back of the church to the left of the flowerbed. Aerith’s feet carried her past her most precious treasure, hand clasped in Tifa’s. Denzel and Marlene had taken to tending to her flowers recently, keeping them nice and healthy for her.

Over the last week, Aerith had taken to avoiding her flowers because they were, well, to put it mildly, loud.

And it wasn’t their fault. Really. It wasn’t. She hated that she was having to distance herself like this. Her flowers were her first and oldest friend. But they were connected to the planet and that meant they were connected to Gaia.

This was quite the problem because-

“AERITH!”

Aerith winced, instinctively leaning closer to Tifa as her mind went sorta fuzzy. Her free hand flew up to her throbbing forehead. Tifa reacted on instinct, tugging Aerith away from the flowers and through the door. 

“You okay?” Tifa asked, voice soft.

“Yeah. Just a little head rush, you know. She was kinda loud today.”

Aerith shook her head for good measure, making sure the static in her mind was gone. When she opened her eyes again, Cloud was standing before her, a hand outstretched with a soft, fond smile on his face.

Aerith found herself smiling as she accepted that hand and allowed herself to be pulled into an embrace that left her feeling warm and protected. Reminding her that she was here with her friends. Tifa joined the hug from behind, successfully cocooning Aerith in one of her new favorite places to be. 

“Hungry?” Cloud asked softly. 

“Starving,” Aerith said, giving a genuine grin. “We may or may not have swiped the biscuits and run off. We thought for sure we’d be late for the first match after we stayed up so late last night.”

“Why’d you do that?” 

The question was asked as Cloud and Tifa pulled away, creating a space for Yuffie to flying tackle Aerith with her question and her embrace.

“We were counting Marlene and Denzel’s earnings,” Aerith chirped as she threw her arms around Yuffie. “They made a lot of gil.”

“Oh yeah?” Barret asking, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “How much did ya make?”

Marlene took a minute to finish chewing and to swallow before answering, a mischievous little grin breaking out on her face.

“20,000 gil!”

Aerith could only giggle as the others burst out in several exclamations of shock. 

Considering that Marlene and Denzel had only started with the measly 200 gil Aerith had received from selling flowers over the week in between meeting the others at the church, she had been kinda surprised too. But it appeared that Marlene and Denzel had proven to be rather dangerous at the betting pool. 

And to think, this all started because Gaia decided that, in order to save the Planet and her people properly, she would send them all back in time. 

Well, they had all been quite content in their lives, thank you. Sure, Aerith wasn’t with them, but they had won. They beat Sephiroth. They stopped Jenova. There wasn’t anything wrong. Life was slowly starting to flourish as Gaia recovered. There was no reason for any of this.

Aerith had been against it. She’d argued vehemently on behalf of her friends, throwing out every excuse in the book because they did not need to relive their traumas again. Not when everything was good. 

Guess Gaia decided that wasn’t enough. The needs of the few, even those few beloved by the Planet, fell to the needs of the many, she supposed. Or maybe just Gaia’s needs in general.

So here they were. They’d all arrived about a month ago, waking up in the place of their younger selves, confused and lost, surrounded by lost loved ones who didn’t recognize them, or who could tell something was off. 

They were all forced to run to Midgar and seek shelter. Some of them alone, some of them in confused groups. Aerith had welcomed each of them with open arms, soothed their fears and tears, and explained what Gaia had done to them once they were all together. 

The next day, someone had shown up with “special” brownies. 

No one was claiming responsibility.

They were angry, tired, desperate, and very, very high. A terrible, terrible combination, but one that had apparently involved a lot of conversation that actually got written down on a giant poster board now hanging in the back of the church. Where they had gotten a poster board that large was beyond Aerith, but she wasn’t going to question it.

In their grumpy and deliriously high state, the group had lamented that if they could just “fight” Sephiroth, it would all be over and they could do what they wanted with the Reactors. “Easy peasey lemon squeezie”. 

(No. Seriously. They made a note in the bottom left hand corner in Tifa’s handwriting that said just that.)

The poster board itself was a very detailed map of a sports stadium in Sector 1. It had arrows full of “improvements and modifications” that would need to be made. On the outside edges of the poster were their names, with a list of skills and challenges that could potentially be used against Sephiroth in one on one fights. 

Because in their angry, tired, high state, they had decided that the best, and only course of action was to beat up Sephiroth. Each of them getting a turn to vent that anger at Gaia on the being that had caused so much pain.

They were jokingly calling it “Reeve’s Fight Club” because Reeve was the one who would need to be in charge, and the only one who wouldn’t be able to fight or spend much time with them. Plus, he was the one who would need to implement the entire thing. So “Reeve’s Fight Club” was a fitting name, even if he hated it.

It had been so easy, too. And another round of mysteriously appearing brownies had them furthering their plans and how they would each beat up Sephiroth.

Day 1 was complete, and now they just had to hope Reeve could keep the ball rolling.

—------------------------

The science floor was one of the highest floors in the building, right above the conference floor for Hojo’s convenience. And yet, despite the height and the better technology offered on the higher floors, the labs might as well have been as cold, dark, and sometimes damp as a cave at the bottom of the ocean. 

Hojo’s private lab wasn’t much better, and even Sephiroth found a slight chill settling over his bare skin as he waited patiently for the professor to return.

“This is ridiculous, Sephiroth,” Genesis said as he messily chucked a thin blanket at Sephiroth’s face. “You’ve been in here alone since early evening, and now it’s the next day entirely!”

At some point in what had to be early morning, Genesis and Angeal had marched their way into the lab and forced their way into Sephiroth’s company. He was grateful for it, at first. The wait for Hojo to come back had been long. But that relief changed when Genesis kept… nagging.

“The President requested an emergency meeting just as Hojo summoned me,” Sephiroth repeated for the fifth time. “I was told to-”

“Yes. Yes. Told to stay put like some dog-”

“Genesis,” Angeal snapped.

“You could have gone home and rested!” Genesis seethed. “And instead you’ve decided to test whether or not a Soldier can get hypothermia!”

“I was told to stay until he returned,” Sephiroth declared after a moment's pause. 

He supposed it was probably a terrible idea to mention that Hojo had tried to test whether he could get hypothermia or not. Several times. Just like tested every other possible thing that could potentially bring Sephiroth to his knees. He could confidently say that he would survive, but he had a feeling Genesis would dismiss his words as him bragging.

He didn’t want to be here.

Long had he given up trying to explain that to Genesis and Angeal. Both kept attempting to encourage him to rebel. To ignore the summons given to him. The problem was, this was his father. It was a painful secret to have to admit, but there was little he could do about it, and yet Angeal and Genesis still hadn’t understood. So he’d given up trying to explain. 

“If Hojo gets his way with you today, you’ll hardly be able to fight,” Genesis was still grumbling. “And then what? The main attraction gone?”

“That’s not going to happen, Genesis,” Angeal cut off. “Right, Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth stayed silent, knowing full well it could and might actually happen. But there was, again, no point trying to explain any of this to Genesis and Angeal.

These were the moments where he longed for Glenn, Matt, and Lucia. The trio that had seen the trauma and lifestyle he was born into and rescued him. 

“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind being asked to sub in, and it would be interesting to see that strange Soldier from yesterday. Especially if I could manage to best him in battle.”

“Genesis. Please.” Angeal seemed close to giving up.

“That won’t be possible,” Sephiroth shook his head. “The man known as Cloud Strife made it clear that this would be the first, and only fight he would be participating in. When Zack lost him, my hope of sparing again went with him.”

There was a pause where Sephiroth could tell both Angeal and Genesis had stopped breathing. He didn’t bother to look at them, and instead chose to fold the blanket and lay it on his lap. Once he had smoothed out every crease, he looked up to see Genesis and Angeal were still staring at him. 

“Are you… are you saying you genuinely enjoyed the match?” Angeal asked, brow raised in surprise. 

“ Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess .”

“I have never lost before,” Sephiroth said. “Hojo always ensured I would never lose, and if I even came close, I would suffer the consequences and go again. So to have felt the… the joy of defeat? To get even a taste? It was a joy I hadn’t realized I needed in life.”

“You mean to tell me you enjoyed having someone defeat you?” Genesis demanded.

“Yes. It was a wonderful experience. For a long time now I believed I was… subhuman, if even that. A creature for Shinra’s use. A weapon that could not be beaten. And in some cases, I believed myself a monster. To know that I can lose, that there is someone else out there better than me, it gives me joy. And I hope I get to clash blades with Cloud Strife again, whether as friends or enemies doesn’t matter, so long as I get the choice.”

Genesis and Angeal both looked as though they wished to say something more, but the doors quickly flew open, and the two whipped around to watch as Professor Hojo stormed in. Sephiroth kept perfectly still as he noted the doctor’s tense posture and quickened pace. Hojo was one who normally moved at his own preferred speed, often holding up others, so if he was rushing back, he was most displeased.

“Get out!” Hojo snapped into the lab, though not bothering to look at anyone.

Genesis and Angeal moved to leave, only pausing at the door for a second before leaving Sephiroth alone. He sighed, sliding the blanket under the table and preparing to lay against the bed.

“What are you still doing here!?” Hojo rounded on him. “Get out!”

“Profe-”

“The President has decided that the matches will continue, despite your great failure,” Hojo growled low in the back of his throat. “I am forbidden from fixing this fatal flaw until the event is over. Now leave, Sephiroth. We will deal with your failure later.”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Sephiroth stood quickly, collecting his clothes and the blanket, and following after the way Angeal and Genesis had come. He was glad to find his friends waiting for him, though Genesis still looked peeved.

“Sephiroth,” Angeal asked gently. “What you said back there? Do you really think yourself a monster?”

Right off the bat, then. 

Then again, he should have guessed Angeal would latch onto that particular thought. 

“What else was I supposed to think,” Sephiroth asked, his voice softer than it had been in a long time, revealing the pain and vulnerability he felt. “There has never once been a soul who could beat me in combat. There has never been anyone who can measure up to my skill, and for all Genesis’ claims, I doubted there was ever going to be someone who could best me.” 

Who could stop me if my power became too much?

Genesis made an affronted noise at the claim, clearly ready to argue. But Sephiroth let out a low chuckle, reaching out to grip Genesis’ shoulder as he smiled.

“And yet my fears were proven wrong,” Sephiroth said. “There is a man who can defeat me, and I am sure, one day, you will be able to do the same, Genesis.”

“Don’t you ever forget it,” Genesis quipped, pushing Sephiroth’s hand away and leaving.

Genesis didn’t leave in the foul mood he arrived in, much to Sephiroth’s relief. If anything, there was a skip in his step and a sway to his arms that seemed floaty. He seemed to glide with more bravado as he went. Sephiroth couldn’t help the small laugh as he saw the joy in his friend’s movements.

“Do you really think Genesis will surpass you,” Angeal inquired, voice low so Genesis wouldn’t hear. 

“That, Angeal, will depend entirely on Genesis and how far he’s willing to push himself.”

Angeal snorted, moving to walk by Sephiroth’s side as they both left the science floor in favor of the elevator. 

“Still, makes you wonder what Strife went through to make him that strong,” Angeal muttered, his hand going back to grip the handle of his beloved sword. “He was clearly a skilled swordsman. I’ve never seen anyone dual wield like that. And the way his sword was combined to become a buster.”

“The blades together are called Tsurugi. Six parts. He claimed to have made it himself, along with the bike he escaped on.”

Angeal let out a long, low whistle, impressed. “Roche has been going on and on about that bike. He’s not even upset his bike crashed because Strife was clearly the better driver. He’s more intrigued with the thought of getting to properly race the man.”

“The property damage alone would be astronomical,” Sephiroth pointed out flatly.

Angeal let out a put-upon sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sephiroth could guess that Angeal had been the one dispatched to retrieve Roche off the streets. From what Sephiroth understood, the damage done to the city was terrible and Roche had been the one who’d conducted the property damage. They owed Cloud Strife a favor because he had minimized the damage by going to the warehouse district.

He was such a strange man, and Sephiroth found himself puzzling over everything he’d clocked about him during their fight.

“Angeal, we-”

The elevator came to a stop before Sephiroth could finish speaking, and the two found themselves faced with the start of all this. 

Director Reeve Tuesti of Urban Development stepped into the elevator with only the slightest pause to take in the sight of the two Soldiers staring at him. Director Tuesti raised his mug of steaming coffee in salutations.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for Urban Development.

“I wouldn’t know,” Sephiroth responded in kind.

“Neither would I, but I’ve been told it’s the thought that counts,” Tuesti hummed, tipping his mug back to drain half the cup. Angeal was staring at the man like he’d grown a second head, and Sephiroth was sure the steaming liquid had to have burned Tuesti’s taste buds. “No rest for the weary, or so I’m told.”

“Hojo said you were up all night,” Sephiroth prompted.

“Most of the board has been awake for at least 27 hours,” Tuesti sighed, using his free hand to count for a second. “Me? I’ve been awake for the last… 38? 39? I’m not sure. I lost count.”

He downed the rest of his mug like he was taking an excessively large shot, to which Angeal made several aborted motions as if he was going to stop Tuesti, only to decide there was no safe way to extract the cup from the man. Sephiroth watched on in baffled confusion. Glenn, Matt, and Lucia conspired to let him have sips of their coffee from time to time after they found out he never had it, and Sephiroth had been left unimpressed. His enhanced taste buds made the taste horribly bitter to his tongue, even with Glenn’s atrocious amount of creamer. The heat of Lucia’s pure black coffee had scalded his tongue so badly it was a mess trying to hide from Hojo. The only one who had slightly bearable coffee was Matt, and that wasn’t saying much. He never saw the need to drink coffee after those three tastes, even after he was assured that most people drank it for the purpose of getting energy. The caffeine had never done much for him anyways. 

He wasn’t sure it did much for Director Tuesti either, but the man didn’t seem to care.

“Sephiroth,” Tuesti spoke as he lowered the mug and the doors began to open. “Walk with me to my office?”

It wasn’t  a question, but it wasn’t an order Sephiroth needed to acknowledge either. It was an odd mix of authority and granting permission for Sephiroth to accompany Tuesti to a place that was technically a sanctuary for the man. It would be a lie to say Sephiroth wasn’t intrigued. 

“Of course, Director.” Sephiroth inclined his head.

Tuesti’s face scrunched up in distaste and he waved a hand as if swatting a bug.

“Please, call me Reeve. Director sounds too formal.”

The two stepped out of the elevator, leaving Angeal alone to return to the Soldier floor. There were a few people who seemed to startle at the sight of Sephiroth on the UD floor, and Sephiroth found himself surprised that Tuesti - Reeve - hadn’t done the same. Normally the man would cower and avoid his eyes. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation.

Somehow, Sephiroth knew that wasn’t it.

Reeve’s secretary, however, didn’t bat an eye as Sephiroth approached with her boss. 

“I’ve got a team already dealing with the repairs. The stadium is being fixed, and a backup stadium is being repaired in Sector 2. You are to have this conversation with Sephiroth and then you are to get some sleep, Director.”

“Of course, Annette.” Reeve smiled. “We won’t be long, and then you can bully my coffee away from me.”

“I already did. The cup you drank was decaf.”

Reeve suddenly looked at the mug as if it had betrayed him, glaring at the now empty contents and setting the mug down grumpily, but not harshly, on Annette’s desk. The woman looked all too smug to reclaim it and shoo Reeve into his office.

As they stepped into the office, Sephiroth cast one last glance at Annette.

“You… let your staff treat you this way?”

Reeve snorted. “What, like they care about my health? Absolutely. I was hired young, like yourself, Sephiroth. I was fourteen, joining a company I didn’t understand and taking on a task I didn’t fully comprehend. I was 16 when I designed my first reactor and took over the construction of Midgar and I worked myself to the bone. Annette has been with me since the beginning. Sometimes I think she’s the only thing that kept me sane.”

He sounded… so fond of her. The way he tilted his head towards her direction, yet wouldn’t look towards her. Though he followed that soft look up with a roll of his eyes and a smile on his face.

“You know, Sephiroth, as Veld likes to remind me constantly, there isn’t any dirt on me.”

This was a strange shift in conversation. 

“So I’ve heard.”

It was true, too. There was an old saying in Shinra that claimed “all Shinra Directors are Dirty, Nasty, Crooked, Crazies With No Morals”. It was also well known that Veld had changed that statement to say “All Shinra Directors Are Crazy” when Reeve came along.

“Veld was only mildly annoyed when he did finally find some dirt on me, because according to him, it doesn’t count,” Reeve rounded his desk, choosing to sit in his chair. “And the dirt Veld found was the fact that my father likes to make ‘special’ brownies.”

Sephiroth blinked. Special brownies? What was that supposed to mean? And why was it something Veld would consider dirt but not dirt? What could make brownies special ? He supposed if one…. Oh.

“You figured it out,” Reeve laughed, something fond and bright in his eyes. “You see, my father makes these brownies after work and stashes them away for long days when he knows he needs to wind down. Taught me the recipe and everything. Made me swear never to tell mom. Joke was on him, though. Mom knew all about it. Dad was just always too under the spell of the brownies to notice a couple were missing.”

“Is there… a point to this director?” 

“Yes. I made three batches at the beginning of last week, met some friends, and woke up yesterday out of a haze and have misplaced all three pans and a serving tray.”

Sephiroth blinked. Again. 

He was so utterly confused.

“The point is.” Reeve made to stand again. “I messed up and I put you in a position you probably didn’t want to be in. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t what Sephiroth had been expecting in the slightest.

“I will admit I was… upset about the process, and… rather bored,” Sephiroth confessed. “But the last match. That was the greatest fight I have ever had the pleasure to experience. I have never lost before, and I found the feeling quite thrilling. If your strange game brings that stranger back, or perhaps it draws out more who can beat me, I would not be opposed.”

“That’s good to hear, because I may still be a little high, this time on sleep deprivation, and I somehow convinced Shinra to keep going.”

Again with this odd behavior. 

Perhaps Reeve truly was just that out of it. Maybe the Director was far more daring when he didn’t have to worry about his own head. Whatever the reason, Sephiroth couldn’t deny that he was a little on edge.

“Let’s make a deal,” Reeve offered. “You keep fighting, and I’ll see what I can do about making sure each and every day of fighting you go through is worth your while.”

There was a shiver that shot up Sephiroth’s spine at the thought. The mere idea that there were others out there who could beat him? Preposterous. At least, as of yesterday it was. But now there was a chance. A real, honest to goodness chance. Sephiroth would even get down on his knees and beg Minerva for such a thing to be true. 

“Then it’s a deal,” Sephiroth agreed.

The two shook on it. Just for good measure.

Chapter Text

Black dress shoes tapped quickly against the floor as the man made his way through the Urban Development floor. His black suit was surprisingly rumpled at the collar, something that was rather out of character for him, though everything else was perfectly immaculate. Even the ponytail he had recently started pulling his hair back into didn’t have a single hair out of place.

Most cowered away from his presence, some watched him with curiosity, and a select few greeted offered him a nod of acknowledgement. He ignored them all as he made his way down the rows of rooms and desks, stopping before one desk in particular. 

“Annette,” he greeted, keeping his voice light. “Is Reeve awake?”

Annette regarded him coolly, brow pinched in that way that was clearly frustrated to have even heard the question. If he had to guess, it was a clear reminder that her boss was an active workaholic who had probably been in his office since before she even woke up. 

“He slept yesterday, at the least,” Annette huffed a fond little sound. Not that she could ever be frustrated with Reeve for long. “Honestly, Tseng, why he came up with this idea is beyond me.”

Tseng inclined his head in acknowledgement of Annette’s silent plea. She was just as confused by this turn of events as the Turks were. Which was saying something. Annette had a tendency to see what was going on in Reeve’s head before the Turks did.

She kept talking, ignoring his acknowledgment.

“He’s been working extra hard since he got the green light. He’s got back up stadiums. Plans all laid out for if things go wrong. He has hospitals lined up to offer aid to any potential injured. Theaters and cooling centers prepared for if the heat or rain gets in the way. It’s an absolute nightmare in the office.”

In Reeve's own office, perhaps. The rest of the floor seemed relatively tranquil considering the massive project they were undertaking, the work delegated perfectly so as not to overwhelm any one person. If anyone was going to be experiencing any sort of issue, it would be Reeve. In all the time Tseng had known Reeve, he had never once shown himself the same care he showed others.

Tseng inclined his head towards Annette once more and moved to knock on the door with a soft rap. To anyone else, it was a gentle friendly knock. But not to Reeve Tuesti, who immediately threw open the door and dragged Tseng inside, slamming the door behind them.

“I don’t have much time before I need to get to the booth.” Reeve flapped his hand. “I have to double check all these documents because of those accursed brownies. Did you know I made three whole batches and lost three serving pans because of it? I’m a mess, Tseng, but what do you need?”

Tseng eyed the office with a critical stare, taking in everything in minutes. To the untrained eye, the mess would have been a headache to pick through. But despite the sight of papers strewn about, pill bottles scattered across a barely seen desk, and several different screens open and running different programs, Tseng could tell each and every thing had a designated place. Reeve had simply turned his office into a hub of productivity, utilizing every nook and cranny to do so. 

“You appear to have planned everything out to the letter,” Tseng mused, moving to stand over a series of notes that appeared to be about… hospital generators? “Annette seems to have been driven up the wall this time around.”

Something in Reeve’s posture stiffened, and Tseng turned himself to see what had set Reeve off. The thing about Reeve was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. It was often easy to read the man. 

Yet staring at Reeve now, nothing made sense. 

There was a pained, forlorn look about Reeve. The way he seemed to smile without smiling. The way his eyes seemed to be seeing absolutely nothing. The way he seemed to sag oh so minutely it was barely noticeable with how he was standing. There was a slight tremor to Reeve’s hands that had never been there before, and everything about this screamed wrong.

“One of those talks, huh?” Reeve chuckled out a pained, grating sound. 

Was Reeve… was Reeve calling him out on the interrogation?

Reeve wasn’t a fool. Never had been and never would be. But once upon a time he had been naive. Veld had quickly taken Reeve under his wing, taught the boy to thrive and survive. When that lesson was drilled into his head, Veld had thrown Tseng at Reeve with the intent to make him more cut-throat. 

Yet Reeve maintained his heart. 

A good pure honest soul who wanted to provide for the world, to make it better. He wasn’t blind to the cruelty and crimes of Shinra, but he had deemed his current position the best place for his talents to be used for just that. Had Reeve not been just as crazy as the rest of the board, Tseng would have claimed Reeve had no place among them.

So it was strange that Reeve was suddenly calling Tseng out on their little chat. 

“And what sort of talk do you think we’re having?” Tseng chose to test the water.

“You only ever come to me with that knock for two reasons, Tseng: To interrogate me when you think something is off - in which case, you do most of the talking and I pretend like I don’t know what’s up - or, you come in here like a ghost and refuse to say a word, sit at my desk as I ramble about anything and everything, and then you leave without a word. I’ve come to you with that knock more than you’ve ever come to me. I can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve actually needed that knock.”

“Reeve-”

“I know why you can’t, Tseng.” Reeve shook his head. “It’s why I dreamed up Cait. To… to let myself be a kid again, and to have someone who could…”

Reeve turned away from Tseng and began typing away at one of the many tablets he had set up. 

“Problem?” Tseng inquired.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” Reeve answered quickly. “You know, this is the most funding I’ve received in years. I intend to use it well.”

Tseng’s eyes widened. The budget for this event was astronomical. Funding had been pulled from several of the other branches of Shinra to make this happen, and science had taken a massive hit to their funding as a result. And Reeve, who had learned to create under a strict budget…

“You proposed this on purpose?” Tseng questioned.

“What?” Reeve’s head shot up.

“You planned this to steal funding from the science department.”

Reeve frowned, opened and closed his mouth a few times. 

“Uh, no. I hadn’t even… thought of that. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking when I came up with this idea. But these influx of funds, Tseng. I can do something with this. Maybe I can’t fix the ruins of Sector 6, nor can I truly fix the slums, but I can do subtle things. Create things to make life better. That’s always been my dream, Tseng. To make life better. For everyone.”

“I know,” Tseng said, something soft in his voice.

This was the Reeve Tuesti he knew. This was the bright-eyed, strong-willed, brilliant minded man Tseng had the privilege to work alongside. Whatever the reason Reeve had planned this convoluted event, he was at least using it for the good of the people. Of that, Tseng could be sure.

An alarm went off somewhere, causing Reeve to suddenly panic as he rushed about in a flurry of movement, snatching up papers here and there. 

“Let me guess. That was your second alarm?” Tseng teased.

“No! It was my third! I’m going to be late, Tseng !”

And Tseng laughed. Bright and free in a way that Reeve just naturally dragged out of Tseng. The man hissed in response like a feral cat, serving to only make Tseng laugh harder. It was something he needed to work on. Hiding these emotions. And yet he only truly had difficulty doing so around Reeve. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford, but for just this moment, he would enjoy it.

His laughter prevented him from seeing things clearly. 

Like the pained, forlorn smile Reeve was giving him while he scurried out the door, papers in hand. A smile made as if he was remembering something he would never have again.

But Tseng had his own things to worry about, and as his laughter died, he quickly got back to work. It was practically instinct to find Veld’s name in his contacts and dial the number. His phone was to his ear before it even had a chance to ring, and the person on the other end answered swiftly.

“Director Veld speaking.”

“It’s me.”

There was a cold flatness to his voice, now, the usual cheer and life he carried around Reeve replaced with icy professionalism. There was a reason Tseng had been assigned to look after Reeve, and it was because even amongst the Turks, Tseng was one of the best.There was a reason Tseng had been assigned to look after Reeve. Tseng was one of the best, even amongst the Turks

“And?”

“He met with friends, ate three whole batches of his brownies, and came up with the idea for a fight club.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “No mention of these ‘friends’ I take it?”

“He’s been dodgy about them, sir,” Tseng confessed, “and I can think of no one that he might be referring to.”

Veld was silent. 

“On the other hand, there doesn’t appear to be any ulterior motive.”

“Oh?”

“The only suspicion I might have is the funding, but Reeve seems overwhelmed by the sudden influx of money,” Tseng noted as he looked back to where he had seen papers about hospital generators. To his surprise, he found those papers were some of the ones Reeve grabbed. “He’s managed to do quite a bit with the excess.”

“So what you mean to tell me is that Reeve created a fight club and did so with mystery friends, and you think nothing is wrong?”

Well. When it was put like that.

“In all honesty sir, he…”

“What? What did he do, Tseng?”

Tseng had never once hesitated to answer his superior. He was the best at his job. Veld had chosen him to be second in command. Tseng never once acted in uncertainty. 

So why was he acting like this now?

“Sir, he… he called me out on my interrogation of him.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. The sort of sound that never came out of Veld’s lips. 

Veld had been on edge ever since Reeve concocted this strange plan of his. There were certainly times when Veld had been uneasy. Mostly when one of their own had gotten hurt, but this was a different sort of unease that Tseng wasn’t sure how to take. 

“Be careful going forward, Tseng.”

“Sir?”

“If anything else happens, report to me immediately.”

The call hung up, leaving Tseng utterly flabbergasted for the first time in years.

—---------------------

There were yet more Soldiers again today. 

Sephiroth had hoped that because someone outside of Soldier had defeated him, more non-Soldiers would appear to challenge him. However, it appeared that the President was keeping it a secret that Cloud Strife wasn’t a Soldier. 

He could understand such a decision, but it left Sephiroth with barely a need to think with each opponent he faced. 

He also had to admit that Reeve’s promise still bothered him. How could the man possibly guarantee that every day would have a match worth his while? He’d been so excited when they first made the deal. Just the thought of that thrill and excitement from just two days ago made his body tremble with anticipation. He longed to experience the feeling of losing all over again. It was an addictive sort of joy he’d never encountered before. 

But could the good director really keep such a promise?

Sephiroth turned to look at the President Suite where he knew Reeve would be. He’d heard that the man was working diligently to prepare for each possible event, even when he was meant to be enjoying himself. 

It wasn’t the first time Sephiroth had looked up to the upper room and been met with disappointment, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

The next three fights passed in a blur. Present the opponent. The announcers would mock said opponent. Sephiroth would defeat the opponent in one move. The opponent got carried off the field. Repeat.

He sighed, looking first to Genesis and Angeal, who were just as bored as he was, then back to the President window. He wasn’t expecting to see Reeve in the window this time, either. But if he could just-

His breath caught in his throat. 

Reeve was in the window.

He was standing beside the President, and he’d probably been dragged there by the man. It was clear, even from this distance, the President was intoxicated. The President was gesturing to the field below, a wicked grin on his face as Reeve grimaced and shook his head. 

“You should enjoy this moment, Reeve!” a lesser man would have been unable to read the President’s lips with how much he seemed to slur his words. “Watch your handiwork first hand!”

Reeve’s head was turned just enough away that Sephiroth couldn’t read his lips. There was a pinched look to Reeve’s expression as he was forced to look over the stadium. Sephiroth imagined whatever answer Reeve gave was placating and not what Reeve truly felt. 

It was still strange to think he could call the Director of Urban Development by his first name and his first name alone. Generally, that was a sentiment carried out by friends, or close acquaintances. As a director, Reeve outranked him, so he had always been told to address the directors by their title.

Now that he thought about it, he’d never had reason to spend time with the Director of Urban Development. Yet in those few moments they had together, Sephiroth found himself stepping into a strange new world. A world where a secretary was worried for her director. Where a director appeared to be on open, friendly terms with his staff. For as nice as Lazard was, there had always been a strange sort of distance between their director and Soldier. 

Sephiroth was shaken from his musings as a new opponent walked into the arena. 

He missed this one’s name, but that was alright. He fell to Masamune’s bite just like the others. It appeared most of the good challengers had come the day before, and the men today were simply Soldier hopefuls looking to make a name for themselves. 

Not that Sephiroth could blame them. Soldiers Roche, Kunsel, and Luxerie were looking towards promising futures simply for lasting longer than a few minutes. Though Roche’s desire to remain as the “motorcyclist” division would no-doubt hold him back.

He cut through the next five opponents before daring to glance back up at the Presidential Suite. 

Reeve was still at the window, overlooking the battle with a furrow to his brow. Though given his present company, Sephiroth was fairly certain the flow of conversation was what had Reeve concerned. 

Director Veld of the Turks was standing beside Reeve, the President long gone. The director was cleverly turned away so that Sephiroth couldn’t read his lips, but his posture was relaxed. Sephiroth frowned as the furrow between Reeve’s eyes seemed to melt away into an easy laugh, turning to Director Veld with a teasing smile. 

It was dangerous to be friendly with Turks. Everyone knew that. Was Reeve truly as naïve as people claimed?

It was another two opponents before Sephiroth could look up again at the booth, but when he did, he saw Reeve was finally looking directly at him.

He was smiling.

—----------------------------

The President was already intoxicated. 

Reeve couldn’t have cared less that it was about mid afternoon, no one should be this intoxicated this early in the day. The President seemed to be of the mind that no one could beat Sephiroth today. Every single Soldier had been checked. Every single Soldier was registered, and each of them were simply Soldiers hoping to make their mark and climb the ladder. 

Not a single Soldier was out of place.

Which meant that the President and his other directors were back in high spirits. 

Reeve, however, was on the floor, typing away at several devices and trying to finish up the last minute plans for the coming week. He’d finished four of the nine projects already, decreasing his workload significantly. He was also grateful to have such wonderful friends who were bouncing messages back and forth with him about improvements or faults. 

“Reeve! My boy! Come here!” the President declared brightly as he hauled Reeve up to his feet with sweaty hands. “You-you shouldn’t be on the ground! Come! Come!”

Reeve found himself being dragged over to the window, clutching his phone to his chest as he absently noted Veld moving to glance over his notes and work. He didn’t get to see what Veld was doing with the notes he was finding, but Reeve was glad to say none of said notes were incriminating in any way.

Still, did he have to use this opportunity to make sure Reeve wasn’t some sudden terrorist or something? Why did he have to deal with the drunk President?

Reeve found himself dragged in front of the window, overlooking the arena below. Sephiroth was cutting down yet another opponent, causing Reeve to grimace and hide his face so the Soldier First wouldn’t see.

“You should enjoy this moment, Reeve! Watch your handiwork first hand!”

“If you say so, Mr. President,” Reeve awkwardly laughed it off. “I’ll do my best to appreciate all the effort I’ve put into this.”

And he would appreciate it. Just not yet. 

The President gave him a drunk-harty pat on the back. “Good! Good! You make sure to enjoy this, Reeve! Stay right there where I can see you!”

Reeve sighed, turning back to look at the arena, only to quickly look away again. He’d seen too many people fall to that blade to truly be able to appreciate the grace before him. There was no fun to be had in such one-sided fights. They were simply a slaughter. 

He still remembered Cloud on Advent Day. Watching as he disappeared through Cait’s eyes. Just minutes before watching a battle that was tearing Cloud to shreds. It had been one thing for Cloud to fight the Remnant known as Kadaj on his own, but fighting Sephiroth alone? The storm kept them from getting closer. Sephiroth hadn’t wanted interference.

Part of him feared this was a bad idea; this overall plan made on pure spite, Spicy Banora Apple Juice, and “special” brownies. But they were all stronger than they were when their journey began. That was why they’d been sent back in time to begin with. Gaia wanted things to be better, and who better than her supposed saviors to make that happen?

Not that they were asked about their opinion on the matter.

Reeve shut his eyes against the memories, allowing his mind to drift and merge with Cait. It was easy to keep part of his consciousness present in the room after the Deepground Incident. Having split his mind between so many Cait’s just to keep things going, this was like child’s play.

Most of the Soldiers in the waiting room had cooed over Cait, believing he had been a simple toy left for their amusement. Others had given him a wide berth. A few had been foolish enough to attempt to touch Cait, getting a nasty shock from Mog that would send others into a fit of laughter. 

The number of people waiting had slowly dwindled, and Cait had a sinking feeling he would be the only true challenge today. They’d hoped one of the other Firsts would at least give Sephiroth a more serious fight today, but that didn’t appear to be the case.

Oh well. 

Reeve couldn’t help the smile from creeping across his face as he felt Cait’s eager anticipation. 

“You seem chipper.” 

Reeve tilted his head back to see Veld had finished his snooping and was now at his side. The man seemed rather relaxed. Shoulders drooped, a lazy grin on his face one could have mistaken as fond, and curious tilt of his head.

Reeve knew the act well. Once upon a time it would have relaxed him.

This was the “faux care” mask Veld put on sometimes. Not that Veld didn’t care. It was just that Reeve had grown up around Veld much like he had Tseng. He could see the differences in behavior. Plus, Veld’s true method of care was to run around like a headless chicken, demanding answers, getting aggravated over every little thing, and hovering like a mother hen.

Reeve preferred that Veld to this one.

“Just thinking of something good is all,” Reeve answered with a shrug. “Find anything interesting?”

Veld’s entire mask shuddered and he seemed to blue-screen for a second. It was back in place before anyone else saw, but Reeve would hold onto that memory for years to come. 

“You have quite a few pet projects,” Veld acknowledged, something proud seeping into his voice. “Though I must admit, I’m curious to know how this particular thought came about.”

As Veld spoke, a giddy spark shot through Reeve’s mind, and he found himself turning back to the arena to look directly at Sephiroth. His smile grew tenfold on his face as those slitted mako-green eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, just something silly.”

—--------------------------------

Something silly?

That was a strange way to respond to a Turk. Sephiroth still wasn’t sure what Reeve had been discussing with Director Veld, but he knew that last phrase had been directed at him. 

Why would Sephiroth need to know something was silly?

“AND NOW! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE! AS WE INTRODUCE THE MYTH! THE LEGEND! CAIT SITH!”

Where had the President found these horrible announcers? It was becoming rather obnoxious having to listen to them.

But, wait, hadn’t Reeve been in charge of the set-up? So did that mean he found these insufferable announcers?

Sephiroth shook the thought from his head. He had another opponent, and he knew better than to disappoint the watching audience. Though a name like Cait Sith was certainly odd. He didn’t recall there being a Soldier by that name.

The gates began to open slowly and dramatically like they always did. Sephiroth found the waiting rather boring most times. Precious seconds ticking by that could be used to get this whole thing over with. He was well aware the number of people willing to fight him was dwindling. He wasn’t sure how Reeve planned to keep up appeal, but that wasn’t his business, now was it?

Sephiroth released a sigh as the gate finally opened, closing his eyes as he listened to the footsteps bringing his opponent ever closer. 

Why did…?

Why did they seem to squeak?

They were also impossibly close together, like that of a toddler taking overly large steps in too big shoes. But there was a confidence in those steps, and a lightness to them that no child would ever manage. 

Sephiroth’s eyes sprang open and he found himself utterly speechless by the thing approaching him.

Was that… a cat?

It was a cat, yes. As much as Sephiroth wished to rub his eyes and rid himself of the strange marvel before him, he knew it was no hallucination. The strange cat waltzed forward with a spring in his steps, and a sway to his arms as he moseyed on over. 

Once the initial shock of the sight went away, Sephiroth let himself really look at this strange sight. This… tuxedo cat with brown boots, giant white gloves, a red cape, and a crown. He was carrying a strange megaphone, and left at the gate was… a fat toy moogle?

The cat was robotic. 

Of that, Sephiroth was certain. The gears were near silent, and the design was flawless. But this wasn’t a normal cat. And it wasn’t some experiment of Hojos. Whoever had created this strange contraption had done so with such love and care. 

It wasn’t that machines were banned from the competition. It was just that Sephiroth had been told to destroy any robot or contraption that anyone used. Even such a masterpiece as this. It was a shame he had to get rid of it.

The cat came to a stop before him, offering a hand.

“Hello! Mah name’s Cait Sith!”

What…was Sephiroth supposed to do with this?

It looked like a handshake was being offered. Which wasn’t uncommon between opponents. He used to start every spar with Angeal this way. He recalled Kunsel from the other day had started the spar much the same way.

He reached out to shake hands with the creature.

“Sephiroth,” he replied in kind.

The cat grinned wide, a cute little thing full of giddy excitement. 

“Nice tae meet ya, Sephiroth!”

His accent only seemed to add to his general cheeriness. This wasn’t the usual fan reaction Sephiroth usually got whenever he met someone who was excited. This was a natural thing that seemed to bleed from the robot’s very being with such joy and excitement that Sephiroth found himself offering a small smile back.

The cat was practically bouncing on his toes when he saw the smile.

“Ye have a nice smile, lad,” Cait Sith declared, drawing his hands across his lips to emphasize his own grin. “Lets see if ah cannae draw that out wee bit more. Mind if ah have the first go?”

Was this cat seriously asking him if it could go first?

Others had asked the same. All in jest, of course. He always let them go first. But there was something about the way this cat asked him that seemed different. 

“By all means,” Sephiroth permitted.

Cait Sith jumped into the air with a “Ah-ha!” sound, pumping his little fist in joy, and clicking his heels together for good measure. It was an adorable sight to watch, and Sephiroth couldn’t help but feel as though this little cat belonged on a stage production rather than the arena.

The cat's grin was suddenly mischievous.

“ Silence .”

A spell?

It was no secret Sephiroth was immune to most magic. Sure, a fire or an ice or a thunder could hurt him, but it was always more like a graze. And status effects never once took hold. Ever. Sephiroth could only sigh and prepared to remind the cat that this was futile.

The words didn’t come.

No. That was impossible.

There was no possible reality in which the spell took over. There was no way this… this toy had somehow managed to cast status magic over him. Hojo would often brag and gloat of how perfect Sephiroth was, how not even magic could truly harm him, and no status would ever slow him down.

Yet Cait Sith had somehow managed the impossible with a sly little cheshire grin and a simple magic spell. The carefree whimsy that seemed to dance around Cait Sith was replaced with deliberate mischief. 

Contrary to popular belief, the spell “Silence” didn’t physically silence a person. Sephiroth could still talk had he wanted to. The issue here was that Sephiroth found himself at a clear loss for words.

The thing about “Silence” was that it completely cut a person off from using magic. Sephiroth had heard Genesis grump about the spell on the occasion where some lucky soul had managed to cast the spell on him. He’d never truly cared to listen to that particular rant; something he was coming to regret at this moment.

Sephiroth knew the exact moment the spell took hold because it felt as if something in his very being shifted with the slam of a door. That same door was locked tight and insulated at the same time, preventing Sephiroth from reaching that part of himself. 

Finally, Sephiroth understood why the spell was called “Silence”. 

His entire being seemed to shut itself down, cutting him off from a crucial part of something that made him feel sub-human. Magic was not a common tool he preferred to use, but he was skilled with it. Expertly so. 

Yet with a wave of magic, and a whispered word, all of that was gone. The voice and sensation that accompanied his ability to use magic was suddenly gone, and Sephiroth found himself faced with a severed connection to one of the most powerful weapons of his arsenal.

He hadn’t realized how connected he was to magic until it was gone .

It was like an entire part of him simply ceased to exist. A voice that had always been there, that he’d learned to ignore, vanished as though it were never there to begin with. It was like his entire body was muted to the gentle thrum of materia that was ever present. He had a moment of panic when he realized he could no longer sense the materia on Genesis, but he knew the man was still there, watching with a frown. 

“This is…”

“Ye alright, lad? I promise this cat didn’t take yer tongue!” Cait Sith crooned in glee.

It was a terrible pun, and Sephiroth might have rolled his eyes if he could find the words to express what he felt.

“Just a wee spell,” Cait Sith declared with a little hop, putting a finger to his lips to hush him. “Our secret, of course! For now!”

Sephiroth had a strange feeling it wouldn’t be a secret for very long. 

“Yer turn!” Cait cheered, spreading his arms wide. “Go on, lad! Ah’m waiting!”

Sephiroth supposed this was where it ended. As entertaining as being statused was, Sephiroth did have a job to do. That job meant destroying this marvelous robot standing before him.

He raised Masamune and lunged, already mourning the fate of this creature. It seemed so sentient. So full of life in a way Sephiroth could never understand. He wanted to learn more from the creature, but…

But…

Masamune only cut through air. 

Sephiroth’s head whipped left then right before finally spotting the creature. Cait Sith waved excitedly.

“Try again, lad! Ye’ll get me next time fer sure!”

What?

Cait Sith had moved. It avoided his blade at the last second. That was so strange. He’d never seen anything dodge him like that, especially not at that speed. 

No. Wait. There was one other who had managed to evade him. Just a few days prior.

Sephiroth turned to face Cait Sith, adjusting his stance and lunging. He moved at a speed faster than last time, keeping his eyes fixed on the strange cat. He raised the blade to cut through the cat, but just seconds before it could make contact, the cat ducked into a ball and rolled out of the way.

It rolled out of the way!

Sephiroth found himself skidding to a halt across the stadium floor, staring at the cat in disbelief as it popped back up halfway across the field.

“HAHA!” Cait Sith boomed. “That was a good go, lad! Ah’m impressed!”

How interesting. 

The strange robot creature had an impressive dodge ability. Curling into the ball-like shape, it could roll away at an impressive speed and reach unknown distances. Sephiroth wasn’t fool enough to believe that the creature had truly played its full hand. 

Whoever had created this strange robot was a genius. If… a bit comical. 

They had given Sephiroth a true and honest hunt.

“I see, now,” Sephiroth called to the creature. “You are the promised fight that Reeve made to me.”

Cait Sith’s tail twitched as he gave a rather amused grin. 

“Ah might be, lad.”

“Then… shall we truly commence this battle?”

Cait let out a vibrant little laugh. “Ah’ve been fighting since we shook hands, lad.”

That was a challenge if Sephiroth ever heard one. In the next second, Sephiroth had lunged again. 

Once again, Cait Sith dodged.

This would be a very interesting hunt, indeed.

—----------------------

Reeve watched the fight with a critical eye. He followed Sephiroth’s movement, before switching to Cait’s perspective at the last minute. With Reeve’s signal, Cait would quickly dodge out of the way. It was a secret joint effort, and one Reeve had no intention of giving up. Especially not to Veld, who was watching Reeve carefully.

“You seem rather intrigued by this fight.”

Reeve didn’t answer verbally, but he tilted his head towards Veld in acknowledgment of the statement. 

“Wh…wha he do’n’?” 

Reeve didn’t bother to face the drunk Heidegger as the man practically plastered himself to the glass. Reeve was fairly certain the man was drooling, and he winced slightly as he directed Cait away from Sephiroth once more.

“This is strange behavior from Sephiroth, I must say,” and that was Hojo offering his rather unhelpful opinion. “Now if only I had been allowed to work on him-”

“With all due respect, Professor, Sephiroth is doing quite well, all things considered,” Reeve cut the rat off with a clipped tone. “And if you truly knew Sephiroth as well as you claimed you did, you’d notice he is being rather tactical about this unknown opponent.”

“Oh? Do tell, Director Tuesti.”

Yes. Lovely. Of all the people who decided not to get drunk, his options for proper conversation were Veld, Hojo, and Rufus Shinra. And now he had Rufus standing at his side, peeling Heidegger off the glass by his shirt collar and watching the battle below.

Rufus urged Reeve on with a dramatic wave of his hand that was far more reminiscent of Rufus’ early days. Reeve supposed these were the early days, so it wasn’t entirely out of character. 

“Please, Director. Do tell us what you see.”

Reeve resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Rufus’ mock interest. He had to keep himself mostly focused on the fight. Need to guide Cait through-

No. Cait would be fine. He didn’t need to mother his Cait Sith. His beloved creation was more than capable of handling himself. With a tired sigh, Reeve released the reins to Cait Sith and faced Rufus.

“If you watch the robot carefully, you’ll notice the Cat never dodges at the same second, nor does it roll away at the same distance. If I had to guess, Mr. Vice President, I would assume that Sephiroth is testing his opponent to see where and how he can corner the creature.”

“You think Sephiroth is trying to hunt the thing?” Rufus inquired.

“I came to much the same conclusion, Mr. Vice President,” Veld came to Reeve’s defense. “He is testing the thing. Trying to gauge its capabilities. Whoever created such a design should be well pleased that they have elicited this sort of reaction from Sephiroth.”

Reeve was more than pleased. And the show had only just begun.

—-----------------------------

The game continued like this for some time. Sephiroth lunging and Cait dodging. This might have been a rather boring spectacle for the audience to watch with such repetition. Sephiroth would lunge. Cait Sith would roll away. Rinse. Repeat. 

Except, in a shocking turn of events, Cait Sith managed to roll up the barrier.

He managed to roll a good distance up. Perhaps a good 15 feet up in the air, just popping up on the barrier like one of those cartoons some of the younger Soldiers talked about watching. Sephiroth could have charged after the thing, but he had a plan of his own.

The cat hovered in mid air for a moment, dancing on the barrier as he did so.

“Cannae catch me!” the cat taunted.

Sephiroth knew that wasn’t true. For all things that went up had to come down eventually. It was only a matter of time. He just wasn’t sure why the cat looked so smug about it. 

The next part seemed to happen in slow motion, as Sephiroth would later recall.

As gravity took over for Cait Sith, Sephiroth prepared to strike, raising Masamune to meet the cat head on. Cait, however, had other ideas, and he lifted the strange megaphone to his lips and suddenly began to shout.

There was a sort of magic behind the shout, Sephiroth realized distantly. Of course, the close proximity caused his ears to ring, but the jolt that shot through him as the sound took effect like a status effect caused Sephiroth to go absolutely rigid. It wasn’t that he was being paralyzed, it was more the fact that he had this sudden feeling of pain that caused him to freeze.

A mistake.

In the next second, Cait Sith had landed on his face and dragged one of his clawed hands from the left side of his forehead, across his face, and ending at his right cheek, drawing blood as he went before launching off Sephiroth’s face and landing a short distance away to shake the red off his claw.

The cat looked beyond smug.

Impossible. 

The cat had truly drawn first blood. A strange hush fell over the crowd as Sephiroth raised a hand to his face, touching it only briefly before pulling it away to see the streaks of red that came away.

He’d underestimated his opponent, and it cost him first blood.

How strange.

Sephiroth turned to the cat, who was sitting in a little crouch that was almost cat-like. It’s little tail was swishing back and forth behind it as it seemed to wait for him to get with the program.

“I suppose this is my punishment for not taking you seriously,” Sephiroth called to the cat.

“Oh, lad. We’re done being serious. Now the fun can start!”

Cait suddenly surged forward, rolling towards Sephiroth with a vicious laugh. Sephiroth prepared to raise Masamune to strike as the cat got closer.

“MINI!” Cait hollered as he jumped out of his roll just 6 feet from Sephiroth.

And suddenly, Sephiroth wasn’t holding Masamune.

He was… weaponless…

This had never happened before.

He’d never been disarmed with magic before. Let alone with a status effect. He still held Masmamune in his palm, but the blade was tiny. He’d used Masamune for so long, and now the weapon had been rendered useless by an impossibility.

There was something about this fight. Something that sent an eager thrill through Sephiroth that felt reminiscent of his battle with Cloud Strife. 

In his distracted state, Sephiroth missed the fact that Cait Sith had rolled under his legs. It was yet another mistake that cost him as the creature jumped back to his feet, springing into the air and digging his claws into Sephiroth’s back. He then used his claws to propel himself upwards and throw something into Sephiroth’s face. 

It wasn’t painful. In fact, it appeared to be thin slips of multi-colored paper that drifted softly to the floor. Some of the paper stuck to his bloodied face, and a few others caught in his jacket, shoulder pads, and hair. Sephiroth reached up to grab one piece, only to find that he was right. It was small thin slips of multi-colored paper.

Confetti, he believed the stuff was called in this form.

“C’mon, lad! Have a wee bit of fun with it! Show the audience what ye can dae without that nasty sword!”

Closing his fist around Masamune, Sephiroth decided to oblige the cat. He lunged forward, slamming his fist into the ground rather than the cat. The ground crumbled under the force, but Sephiroth paid it no mind. He had a cat to catch, a chase to be had. 

Distantly, as he chased Cait about the stadium field, he knew he was tearing the ground apart. Chunks of ground littered the air, creating little nooks and crannies Cait took great pleasure in using as hiding spots. 

It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that was exactly what Cait Sith wanted .

In fact, it took his sword re-growing and the weird fat Moogle he noticed earlier coming up for Cait Sith to perch on for Sephiroth to figure it out. 

“Another toy?” Sephiroth questioned.

“Mog’s mah pal!” Cait Sith beamed from his perch atop the fat moogle creature. “Mah partner in crime, so to speak. But fer this fight, he’s one of mah weapons!”

“I see. That is acceptable.”

Sephiroth was honestly intrigued to see where this fight would go.

Sephiroth quickly found himself subjected to Mog’s capabilities as Cait Sith tapped Mog on the head, and several plushies were suddenly launched at Sephiroth. Sephiroth knew better than to believe they were normal stuffed animals by now, and he quickly cut through the things.

Only to be showered in a spray of white powdery dust.

He shut his eyes in time to prevent any of the substance from getting into his eyes, but the rest of him was coated.

“Flour?” Sephiroth inquired as he tasted the white substance on his lips. 

He forced his eyes open in time to see that Mog had launched Cait Sith at him. He raised Masamune to block Cait’s attack, only to poke the strange orb he’d been holding. The result was the popping of a water balloon, soaking Sephiroth and his flour covered body so that he was covered in a sticky sort of substance. 

So utterly baffled by the event, he nearly missed the fact that Mog was now throwing more things at him until he cut through those plushies and was then covered in feathers. Now, not only was he covered in wet, sticky flour, but he had become covered in white feathers. He supposed that his appearance resembled that of a deranged chicken.

At least their audience seemed amused by the sudden turn of events.

“Ye look stunning, lad!” Cait Sith crooned from his new perch. “Love to see that look in the papers!”

It would certainly be a spectacle. He wondered how his fan club was handling his new look? The thought of their horrified expression at his ruined “beauty” amused him greatly.

Why was he thinking about them?

Sephiroth shook the thought away, unable to stop the slightly bewildered laugh that fell past his lips as he picked at his hair. 

“How strange this all has been. You have quite the knack for taking me off guard. A rare feat.”

Cait Sith seemed to bloom under the praise, stretching his chin high.

“Well, there’s certainly more where that came from! Shall we continue?”

“We shall.”

Cait Sith’s tail did a strange little swishing movement. 

“Then come catch me!”

Gladly.

Cait ducked under the rock he had been perched on. Sephiroth followed after him, ducking under the rock and appearing on the other end of the crater just in time to see Cait disappear under another rock. Sephiroth gladly gave chase, glad for the sudden shift to something more normal in this fight.

Distantly he noticed Mog had seemingly vanished in Sephiroth’s moment of confusion. To add to the oddness, he couldn’t pinpoint the robot, either. How strange? But that would not distract him from ending this battle as he normally would.

Which was clearly wishful thinking as Sephiroth ducked under the fifth rock in this merry chase, only to find the floor was no longer under his feet. He would have simply sped past the hole, but the sound of Cait Sith’s laughter caused him to drop down into what appeared to be tunnels. 

They were some sort of service tunnel below the stadium, Sephiroth realized. An electrical room of some sort below the stadium. Perhaps as an emergency evacuation of power grid to keep the stadium running while hiding all the impurities of it. 

How had Cait Sith known these were here?

“Good! Ye’re just in time!” Cait Sith called, waving from a… table(?) covered in some pink frilly tablecloth. “Have a seat, lad! Mog’s got you a nice damp towel.”

There was Mog, standing before him holding a towel out to him. It was both damp and warm, much to Sephiroth’s surprise. 

The sudden shift in mood was a bit odd. Having gone from Cait Sith outright attacking him, to seemingly using pranks to attack, and now this? What even was this?

This whole fight was giving him a headache.

But the towel felt heavenly against his face. It also helped to remove the goo and blood from his face and hands. Given how uncomfortable the combination was against his skin, it was a beautiful relief to remove even some of the gunk. 

“Here. Have another while Ah pour us some tea!”

Tea? Why did they need tea?

Mog took the nasty towel and placed it in a bag that had clearly been used to bring these strange things down here, before offering a second wet-warm towel from a small pyramid of them on the edge of the table. Now that Sephiroth was wiping off his clothes and hair, he noted that the table was decorated with a bouquet of yellow and white flowers. There were also rather intracat little tea cups at the table, each decorated with flowers similar to those on the table. Cait was busy using a steaming kettle to fill a teapot decorated similarly to the tea cups.

“Care tae join me?” Cait Sith motioned to the seat across from him.

Sephiroth hesitated, nearly dropping the rag.

Was this another tick? A trap? But why go through all the trouble of taking Sephiroth away from prying eyes? He wished some part of this fight would make sense. 

“I am… unsure of what I would be joining.”

“Why, a tea party, of course! A wee birdy told me ye’ve never been tae one before!”

It was true. Sephiroth had never been to a tea party before. There were many things he’d never gotten the chance to do in his life. For all that Glenn, Matt, and Lucia tried to correct, there was much they had never been able to rectify.

“Why?”

“I wanted tae go on a picnic with ya, but that’s a wee bit hard tae do,” Cait Sith lamented, though the cat didn’t let it get to him for long. “So mah friend recommended we try this! She used tae do them all the time!”

The Cait Sith he had just been fighting was mischievous, and dare he say whimsical. There was a ferocity to him that excited Sephiroth as the cat found new and intriguing ways to throw Sephiroth off. He wasn’t sure what this was yet, but Cait Sith seemed different. 

Curious was perhaps the best way to describe the cat’s mood. The element of whimsy was still there as Cait Sith hummed and set the kettle aside. Perhaps it was the shift in Cait Sith’s mood that drew him closer. The vibrant, inviting aura of child-like wonder that replaced the viscous mythical prankster as his tail swished softly behind him, carefully keeping with the rhythm of the foreign song Cait Sith hummed.

“The song,” Sephiroth whispered. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Mah friend made it,” Cait Sith informed brightly, seeming to beam with pride in a way Sephiroth wished to earn. “It’s called ‘No Promises Tae Keep’.”

“It’s lovely,” Sephiroth said as Cait Sith went back to humming.

Mog was setting down a batch of pastries that smelled absolutely heavenly. The sheer smell alone was enough to cause Sephiroth’s knees to buckle as he sank into the chair. Mog came up behind him, then, using another towel to continue de-gunking Sephiroth’s hair.

Sephiroth thought he might cry. 

When was the last time someone had been this kind to him?

Cait Sith reached over to Sephiroth’s tea cup, pulling it close enough that he could safely pour the tea without risking a spill. Once it was moderately filled, Cait Sith set the kettle down and reached for a matching set of a sugar bowl and cream jug that Sephiroth had missed upon first inspection. 

“Milk or sugar?” 

“I am… unsure,” Sephiroth confessed. “This truly is my first tea party.”

“Then try it as is and we’ll go from there, lad. No reason to not try all the combinations.”

It was a peaceful time, sipping the tea concoctions Cait Sith cooked up. Sephiroth found he preferred the tea with at least a third of the cup filled with milk because it soothed the natural bitter taste that bothered his taste buds. If this was what tea tasted like, then he by far preferred it to the nasty flavors of coffee. At least, when it was prepared in this specific way.

Cait Sith filled his first tea party with mindless chatter. Speaking of events in Shinra that Sephiroth had never even heard about. He found it clever on the Cait Sith’s part that the creature failed to mention anything that would have given away who his maker was. He had information and rumors from every single department, and even some nasty secrets, too. Sephiroth might have been worried had he not been so relaxed.

A small timer went off as Mog’s eyes flashed red, and Cait Sith let out a sad little sigh. Sephiroth felt his heart sink a little as he realized this pleasant little moment was coming to an end.

“Sephiroth, Ah’m glad we got to have this,” Cait Sith said earnestly. “Ye seem like a good lad! Ah hope ye truly enjoy each and every day of this event!”

“Thank you,” Sephiroth nodded sadly, looking pointedly down at his tea cup.

“Now let’s go out with a bang, shall we?” Cait Sith suddenly enthused. 

Before Sephiroth could properly look at Cait Sith, the creature had once again cast a status spell. 

“Frog!”

Sephiroth had never been turned into a frog before. 

It was exhilarating. 

Cait Sith rushed them back up the strange hole in the stadium and proudly displayed Sephiroth to the crowd as an impressive firework show clearly came to an end around them. The gasps reached Sephiroth’s ears, but he hardly had time to focus on them. Cait Sith was tossing him around, treating him like a prop in some stage performance. It made him dizzy in a way that excited him. He’d never been dizzy before either! This was all so new and exciting and he was going to lose again!

He could just picture Angeal and Genesis’ surprised faces, and that alone made him grin.

The act ended with Cait Sith removing the spell with Esuna, leaving Sephiroth to suddenly have to adjust to being human again. The crowd only shrieked and gasped wildly at the sight of the Sephiroth stumbling over himself as Cait bowed. 

Not that he was given much time to regain his bearings. 

In the next, and last, second of consciousness, Sephiroth was only vaguely aware of Cait Sith laughing eagerly as he ducked under Sephiroth’s legs and slashed at his knees, drawing more blood and causing Sephiroth’s legs to buckle. He was quick to sit atop Mog’s head, the latter of which was bringing a plushie down on Sephiroth’s head.

And then he was drifting in darkness.

—---------------------------

The audience found themselves watching in stunned silence as a plushie full of bricks knocked their esteemed Hero of Wutai unconscious. The action caused the bricks to tear the plushie apart and scattered around the General’s head, one such brick landing on his forehead after he’d been knocked unconscious. It would leave an impressive bruise. 

It was painfully silent as everyone waited for Sephiroth to get back up, and it took a minute too long for the announcer to begin the count that would determine the winner of the fight.  

“LA-LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE WINNER IS CAIT SITH!”

It was the proceeding uproar that was the biggest mistake. For as the crowd went absolutely mad, Cait Sith kicked Mog into gear, and the two vanished under the same rock they had emerged from with Frog-Sephiroth. 

Reeve watched the chaos unfold from the safety of the President’s booth. He had a lovely front row seat to watch as Angeal, Genesis, and Zack all rushed the field to check on Sephiroth. After a moment, Angeal signaled that Sephiroth was fine, much to the crowd’s relief. 

But then, Genesis being Genesis, did some sort of flourish to signal towards the rock Cait had disappeared under. Angeal was quick to restrain him in a headlock, much to Genesis’ shrieking protest. When Angeal refused to let Genesis go, Genesis decided to play dirty, pointing at Zack and then at the rock.

Zack was clearly elated and moved to give chase. But Angeal lunged for his pupil, pinning him to the ground. Yet another mistake as he loosened his hold on Genesis. The Firey First took the opportunity to vanish under the rock and into the tunnel.

“Veld,” Rufus was the one to break Reeve’s concentration. “As my father and several of our directors are incapacitated, I suggest you send people after the cat. Director Tuesti, if you would please prepare for the next event tomorrow. I’ll wrap up things here.”

Reeve took that to mean he could leave. He gave a quick nod before moving to grab his stacks of papers and his electronic devices he’d left scattered in the corner. Veld was already taking charge of his Turks and Heidegger’s army, while Lazard was ordering Soldiers to be on the lookout. Reeve was glad he didn’t have to be a part of that particular mess.

The drive back to the tower was slow due to the crowds in the street, but Reeve took the time to prepare the stage for the next big performance that day. 

Upon arriving at the tower, Reeve made a bee-line for the elevator that would bring him closest to his office. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised when someone fell into step with him.

It wasn’t until the doors were closed and the elevator was moving that Tseng spoke.

“I wasn’t aware you had actually built the Cait Sith model. The last we spoke of it, you were still in the designing stage.”

“I don’t always tell you everything, Tseng.”

The elevator opened, stalling all conversation. The walk to the office was quick and brisk, thankfully uninterrupted. Despite the burning question he knew his team had, they could all tell that there was business to be had between the two men.

Tseng was the one to close and lock the door to his office, as Reeve went back to scattering his papers back into their proper place. 

“You have hardly ever been one to keep secrets,” Tseng accused as Reeve proceeded to round his desk and dig in a drawer. “This isn’t a time to keep silent, old friend.”

“On the contrary, I believe it’s the perfect time.”

Reeve dropped the folder he pulled from the drawer on the table. Curiosity piqued, Tseng crossed the room and picked up the folder. It was rather satisfying to see the look of confused concern become one of terrified horror.

“This is-”

“The blackmail you gave me three years ago,” Reeve mused, sitting behind his desk. He motioned to the chair, feeling delighted when Tseng seemed to drop all decorum and sank into the chair. “Yes. It is. I think we both knew at the time that I would never use such a thing, but needs must.”

Tseng swallowed, looking at Reeve with an expression that rendered him completely to Reeve’s mercy.

“Why?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry, I’ll tell you everything,” Reeve gave Tseng a soft little smile as he rested his chin on his intertwined hands. “But I know you, Tseng. I know where your loyalties lie. I know what you would do with what I’m about to tell you, Tseng. So I hope you’ll understand why I needed to use this. Why I needed to keep you silent.”

Reeve turned to look out his window, staring in the direction of Reactor 1. 

“I think it’s time for a Grand Finale, that’s all.”

—-------------------------------

Genesis found Cait Sith easily enough. It wasn’t hard when the strange toy seemed to leave a breadcrumb trail of confetti and streamers. Genesis barely gave the items a second thought as he was joined by Soldiers and Infantry alike in his merry chase.

To his surprise, the thing sought sanctuary in Reactor 1.

“Spread out!” Genesis commanded the troops. “We must find this cat!”

He was going to beat this cat up. And once he did, he would prove to the world that he was better and stronger than Sephiroth! It would be a glorious day in Midgar when he finally surpassed his old rival.

Or so he believed.

The thing about Reactors was that they were heavily guarded. The first obstacle of trying to find this Cait Sith was the fact that they were confronted by another round of troopers who were covered in glitter. The fools opened fire on Genesis and his men, and they were forced to seek cover. 

The issue of fellow troopers opening fire on others was an issue that happened a total of five times in their attempt to move further inward. Each time, Genesis threw a Sleep spell at the men, successfully knocking the men out. The problem was that this spell knocked everyone in front of him unconscious. The trail of confetti and streamers disappeared behind a giant metal door that could only be opened with code. Not to be deterred, Genesis cast a Thundaga at the door, causing it to malfunction and explode. The door was effectively ruined.

Walking further into the Reactor only brought them face to face with more confused troopers, and a couple baffled scientists who had been called to figure out what exactly the strange cat had done. Many of the troopers made to attack. Genesis found that constantly using magic to make people sleep and then using thunder to open the doors was rather taxing on his magic. It was far easier to just shoot a fire spell at the door to blow the thing to bits, and effectively blow away the troopers standing in his way. He was aware the property damage was going to be astronomical, but he simply didn’t care.

Not that any of these stupid doors mattered. All that mattered was the flow of Mako.

And catching this clowney cat.

Only, walking further relieved them of the troopers, but it put them in the crossfire of Scarlet’s defense line. These abominations of technology couldn’t tell friend from foe, and while they appeared to have let the stupid cat right on through, they were firing wildly at Genesis and his men.

“Destroy them!” Genesis ordered.

“Uh, sir?” one of the troopers tried to speak up.

“Did you not hear me! That cat is getting away! There is no telling what he’d do once it gets to the mako! Destroy these robots immediately!”

The rest of the men followed suit as Genesis descended further into the reactor. 

He could see the mako, could taste it on his tongue as he reached the place where the mako pooled around him. There was no sight of the fat moogle anywhere but he could see Cat slumped over the control panel below. 

Launching himself over the railing, Genesis launched a Firaga spell at the cat. He allowed himself a moment of elation as the spell hit, lighting the creature into flames. But that joy was short lived as he realized the thing hadn’t exploded into gears and wires and sparks.

“A plush!” Genesis raged.

“ALL SYSTEMS DRAINING”

What?

Genesis glanced wildly about, noting that the mako of the reactor was indeed draining back into the planet. Everything around him was slowly shutting down, and a glance back at the false cat revealed that the Firaga spell had caused the stuffed animal to activate some sort of mechanism to shut down the reactor.

No.

No! NO! NO!

The cat had bested him as well. This wasn’t meant to be possible! He was meant to reign supreme in this battle! Yet he had been tricked by a court jester!

Feeling his rage only grow, Genesis allowed his limit break to burst forth, lashing out at the stuffed cat and further destroying the reactor around him. His limit being named Apocalypse felt fitting as the reactor seemed to begin to combust in a ring of pink fire as lightning rained down from seemingly nowhere.

The Reactor began to melt around him. Had Angeal not appeared seconds after Genesis began his tantrum, the Reactor might have destroyed all of Sector 1 and 8. However, the damage had already been done, and there was an explosion.

—----------------------------

“HA HA!” Cait cheered as he re-entered the church from the rooftops. “That is how ye do a show!”

The members of Avalanche gave him a round of applause. Some of them were still dressed in trooper uniforms they swiped days ago. 

“You were great, Cait!” Aerith cheered. “That was really fun!”

Cait bowed before hopping back to the ground. 

“And the people of the Sectors?” he inquired.

“All safely evacuated.” Yuffie did a mock salute that Cloud had taught them. 

Cloud casually poked her in the side as he made his way over to Cait, causing Yuffie to spasm and trip over into a heap on the ground. Yuffie gave a little squawk as a few of the others burst into laughter.

“How’d your test go?” Cloud asked softly.

Cait nodded to himself. “The tea party went tae plan! And ye were right! Sephiroth is just a wee lad. Not an evil bone in his body!”

“Can’t believe you took all our tea to share with Sephiroth,” Yuffie grumped. 

Cloud ignored her. “The memories of how Zack and Sephiroth acted around each other?”

“I’d say there’s some truth tae them, yet! Though, given his interactions with Reeve, Science has got a tight leash on him. If memory serves correctly, I do seem tae recall a time when Genesis Rhapsodos tried tae get Sephiroth tae try his recipe for Banoran Apple Juice, only tae be rejected. Hojo’s got everything aboot Sephiroth under his thumb, even his meals!”

Cloud’s face seemed to spasm and shutter off as he quickly stood up and moved to talk in hushed tones with Aerith. The two had been chatting about something since Cloud’s fight with Sephiroth, and the group knew they’d share when they felt ready to. 

Clapping his hands together, Cait turned back to the rest of Avalanche.

“Good! So, who’s next?”

“Guess we gotta spin the bottle and find out.”

Chapter Text

It was early dawn, so early the sun had yet to rise in the sky. Hojo could be seen grumpily throwing a silent tantrum in his seat, having been shut down on his opinions several times during the discussion. Heidegger looked green as though he would throw up at any second but was marvelously keeping it in. Scarlet had only done parts of her makeup and the sight of her was absolutely abysmal to the point someone had grabbed the emergency fire blanket and thrown it over her face. Palmer was half asleep, and the front of his suit was covered in butter and tea stains from the amount of times he’d dropped his cup. 

But there were those who were more active participants. Reeve Tuesti would throw out comments here and there as he worked furiously on his laptop, tablet, and phone. This was the only time the president dared allow such devices in a meeting as the man did damage control for an entire Sector and a half. Lazard had a similar tablet in front of him as he quickly tapped through several clips from last night, also on the President’s orders. Rufus sat beside the President, diligently taking notes at his father’s side. 

The President himself was nursing a migraine but he was staring directly at Veld of the Turks.

“Say that again.”

“There were no casualties in Sector One or Sector Eight,” Veld repeated slowly. “Shortly before the tournament began, the Reactor workers released a statement about a mako gas leak near the Reactor and a call was placed to have the people evacuated to the theaters near the edge of town where a live broadcast of the fight took place. Food and drink were provided as compensation. We have yet to find out who issued such an order, but it saved lives.”

Not that the President cared about the lives saved. Veld knew the man too well to believe he cared about the fact these supposed terrorists had saved lives. The President just had too much of a post-drunk migraine to shriek his woes and fury to the boardroom. Veld counted himself lucky that the man’s temper was quelled for the time being.

Still, it was funny to see the man turn red in his fury. If there had been casualties it would have been easier for PR to spin the disaster against these unnamed terrorists. They could still spin the story to their favor, but the lack of casualties meant the sob story wouldn’t “stir” as many hearts. 

This was going to be a PR nightmare and Veld was forever grateful he didn’t have to deal with it.

“Sit down, Director,” the President hissed to Veld before switching victims. “Reeve.”

“I have a stadium in Sector 2 prepped and ready for just such an emergency. I had a feeling that the other Firsts might put on some sort of a show, anyways, so I thought it best to make sure there was a stadium prepped as a back-up arena in every single sector.”

The President was immensely pleased about this, his dour mood giving way to an eager, mischievous grin. Veld didn’t have the heart to remind the man that he lost a rather large sum to the betting pool the night before.

It might have been funny, though.

“Well done, Reeve. Now, Heidegger. Lazard. Has the order been given.”

“Grahahahaha! Of course, Mr. President. My troops have been ordered to be on standby and on the lookout for anyone and everyone who might resemble that rogue soldier, or anyone carrying the strange toy cat.”

“My Soldiers who are not participating are also primed and ready to go in case there is a sighting, and there are several of them who will be standing guard around the stadium in case something else strange happens,” Lazard was quick to add.

“Excellent. Anyone who can defeat Sephiroth is in our best interest to apprehend. They can enjoy a nice stay in science. And have we vetted today’s line-up?” the President turned to Veld.

“Every Soldier who is participating today is in fact a Soldier. Every robot drone has been vetted and checked. There are a couple non-soldiers, but they are all Shinra employees.”

“Wonderful. Then let’s have a nice, clean win today, shall we?” the President clapped.

That was that, then. 

Veld glanced at Reeve, noting that the man hadn’t dared to discuss any plans of fixing the reactor or repairing the damaged homes in the city. Which was strange. Normally Reeve would have been all over such a thing. He’d been begging to fix up the broken Sector 6 plate for years. And yet he was surprisingly quiet as he swifty packed up his devices and bolted from the room to head to his office. 

Now that Veld thought about it, Tseng was meant to have talked with Reeve last night. Yet his star apprentice hadn’t checked in last night. That was odd. He immediately sent off a quick text to Tseng, demanding to see the man as he walked out of the boardroom. 

Veld didn’t flinch when Tseng stepped out of the shadows and stood at his side as though he had always belonged there, though his presence was a bit of a surprise. He assumed that Tseng was still tailing Reeve.

There were things to be done, though. They would simply have to walk and talk. Tseng was more than capable of such a task.

“Status?”

A demand more than a question.

“I cannot, sir.”

Veld paused, barely having gotten a few steps away from the conference room.

A refusal?

That was not the response Veld had been expecting and any plans to move somewhere better for chatting were instantly stunted by the sudden blue-screen his mind seemed to be conjuring. Had Tseng truly just refused him?

“Tseng.”

“I cannot, sir,” Tseng repeated himself. “I have been sworn to silence.”

Veld pondered that for a moment. Not that the words were making any sense. It took him a moment to process what was being said, and then actually put it into a phrase that worked with his perfect little picture of the world.

“Reeve swore you to silence?”

“Yes sir.”

“He told you things.”

“Yes sir.”

“Terrible things?”

“I can’t tell you that, sir.”

The answer, then, was yes. Reeve Tuesti knew of something terrible or was plotting something terrible, and he had so effectively silenced Tseng, Veld wasn’t allowed to know about it. That was a terrifying thought.

“I see. And how strong is the blackmail?”

“The strongest, sir.”

If Veld had been drinking coffee, as he so wished to be doing right now, he would have spat it out. He’d feared the worst. When Reeve of all people had suggested this barbaric event, Veld knew something was wrong. But any and all searching into Reeve’s whereabouts over the last couple weeks led to dead end after dead end. The only clues he had were special brownies and three missing baking pans. 

Which meant he had absolutely nothing.

And now he was trapped with this. Answers just beyond his fingertips. 

“Right. Tseng. I think we both deserve a vacation.”

“Sir?”

“Not now, of course. We do have a job to carry out. Costa del Sol might be nice this time of year. Perhaps we should buy tickets for the second this is all over.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“No. You’re right. Costa del Sol might not be far enough. Maybe we can go check on the new settlement in Nibelheim. Visit an old friend’s grave.”

“Sir? Are you alright?”

“Of course, of course! Just thinking ahead, Tseng. Nothing to fret about.”

“Thinking ahead to what, sir?”

“The apocalypse, of course.”

Tseng visibly blanched, nearly knocking over a potted plant in the process.

“I always knew Reeve would snap one day,” Veld concluded as he began to look up flight plans for Nibelheim. “Maybe we can stop by Costa del Sol for a few hours. Just to unwind and accept our fate. What do you think, Tse-”

Veld cut off his rambling when Tseng let out a “Sir!” that was more horrified squeak than anything. 

Any and all further conversation was abruptly cut off as Palmer finally managed to hobble out of the boardroom and into the open lobby. He’d clearly spilled more tea on himself, and the grease stains from the butter weren’t doing him any favors. Veld absently wondered if Palmer would manage to wake up enough to change before the next fight. Hojo followed out behind Palmer, shoving the fatter man out of the way and causing him to land flat on his face, spilling the last of his crime to caffeine all over the floor.

“It appears the President has once more denied Hojo’s request to work on Sephiroth,” Veld mused, unable to stop the grin from creeping up his face. “I suppose that’s one good thing that came of this.”

Tseng seemed to compose himself at the change in subject. Poor lad was having such a hard time with it all. Perhaps Veld should have prepared him for the end beforehand.

“The scarring from Cait Sith is still on his face,” Tseng rattled off expertly. “We believe the scarring is still present on his back, as well. He seems to be quite elated by it, and both Angeal and Genesis have recommended he see Professor Hojo about it. Sephiroth has refused.”

“His first permanent battle scars,” Veld chuckled fondly. “I’ve watched that kid off and on for years to assess his progress as Shinra’s weapon. Still, the sudden scarring is strange. Do we still have the list of materia Cait Sith intended to use in the fight.”

Tseng handed it over on a small slip of paper just as Veld expected him too. He had a feeling his Turks had been poring over the list the entire time, watching the replay of the battle to try and figure out what changed. No man had ever managed to use a status spell on Sephiroth, and yet Cait Sith had used a handful of them in the span of 36 minutes, and a good chunk of that time had been consumed by an underground tea party during a firework show.

Veld skimmed the list once, committing every aspect to memory before accepting a tablet from Tseng that gave a replay of the entire fight.

“Everyone has taken turns studying the footage, sir. We’re still unsure of how the robot managed it.”

It took Veld eight minutes.

“There. He used Esuna with the handshake. It must have been a powerful one.”

“But what would that have-”

“There is an ability the Ancients used to have. It was called Peerless. It prevented status magic from working on a person. Sephiroth was supposedly born with this ability. But that information is classified. How did Cait Sith learn of such a thing?”

Tseng didn’t betray a word. Veld was rather impressed with how he managed to recover and conduct himself. He’d trained his apprentice well.

Palmer had finally managed to pick himself groggily off the floor as the elevator opened nearby. A Shinra trooper exited first, followed by a woman with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a mustard yellow turtleneck with dark khaki pants. Overtop of that ensemble was a lab coat. Veld immediately assumed she was someone from science looking for Professor Hojo. However, the woman was quick to wipe off her glasses and approach the struggling Palmer.

“Director Palmer, sir? I must speak with you.”

“What? Who-? Oh! It’s you, Shera. Why are you here? You should be in Rocket Town working on the Rocket!”

“But… but sir! I’ve been trying to reach you all week! I-!”

“I don’t have time for your emails, Shera. Solve it yourselves.”

“But sir! Our pilot and lead engineer is-!”

“I said I don’t care!”

Palmer waddled into the elevator looking at any moment like he might keel over. He was flapping a hand at Shera as if that would truly shut her up. Then he used his other hand to reach into his pocket and pull out a sticky ticket that he thrust at the woman.

“Here! Why don’t you take this and go check out the games! Once this madness is over then I might consider talking to you!”

The elevator closed then, nearly taking Palmer’s fingers with it. The poor woman was left to stand beside the confused trooper, who looked as if he wished to comfort the woman but was unsure how to do so.

Veld felt pity for the woman. Anyone stuck with Palmer was bound to be stuck behind slammed doors and a lack of effort on the man’s part. Veld and a few of the older Turks had been trying to find evidence that he was embezzling funds, but they had either fallen in combat or gone missing. They didn’t have the man-power to pick up where they left off.

Veld’s hands twitched as though they meant to grab a cup of coffee. But alas, he had yet to grab the delectable beverage.

“To continue our conversation earlier, sir, we have learned that Sephiroth has begged Genesis and Angeal to purchase him several boxes of tea.”

“I see. Did they agree?”

“They asked to know why Sephiroth didn’t just order them, himself, to which Sephiroth informed them that Hojo had full and total control of his funds. The two believed he was joking until they checked the records. They’ve been in a, how did Reno put it? Frenzy?  Since last night. Shotgun claims Angeal ordered several boxes of tea out of guilt.”

Lovely. That was exactly what Veld needed.

He desperately needed a coffee. Or a smoke. Something to take the edge off.

“Then I suppose I need to go conduct damage control,” Veld straightened his suit and turned back to the conference room. “Wish me luck, Tseng. I’ll need it.”

As Veld ducked back into the room, he was surprised to see Reeve had come back to the conference floor, now lacking his papers and devices, and accompanied by his beloved secretary, Annette. The two approached Shera, seeming to strike up a casual conversation with the woman. 

Veld also noticed that Tseng tensed at the sight, but Veld had bigger fish to fry than to worry about Reeve socializing.

—------------------------------------------

“You're touching your scars, again,” Angeal chided, swatting Sephiroth’s fingers away. 

The other man had at least the sense to look chastised, though he quickly reached up to brush his fingers against the scars once more. The smile they brought to his lip was fond, almost relieved to find them still there. 

The trio of Firsts and Angeal’s young apprentice were all sitting in the booth of the stadium in Sector 2 as they awaited the arrival of the President. This gave Sephiroth plenty of time to enjoy the chamomile tea Angeal had managed to obtain for him the day before. 

It was heavenly. He would forever be grateful to Cait Sith for such gifts.

“Oh for Gaia’s sake,” Genesis huffed, yanking Sephiroth’s hand away from his face and nearly spilling Sephiroth’s precious tea. “The scars may be mostly healed, you buffoon, but messing with them could agitate them and cause them to become infected!”

“Would they shave off part of my face?” Sephiroth asked in awe.

“ NO !”

It was true. Sephiroth had stayed up horribly late to watch as the scar slowly began to heal and close up on his face. He was terrified that the scar would vanish, and his two friends bullied him into going to sleep that night. It was only Angeal and Genesis bullying him into bed, and Angeal buying several boxes of teabags that led Sephiroth to sleep.

The two collapsed shortly after, and were awoken early the next morning to see how elated Sephiroth was to still have the faintest streaks of pink scars that stood out in stark contrast to his already pale skin color. The elation was further built upon when Sephiroth discovered a delivery of assorted teas outside his door.

“Just stop touching them!” Genesis roared in frustration.

“But what if they go away?”

“Sephiroth. You are hyper aware of everything . Can you not feel the strange way your skin stretches?”

“I can. Yes. But it’s different than feeling it with my fingers.”

Genesis let out a sound of furious distress before dropping Sephiroth’s hand and strutting to the other side of the room. Angeal debated going to try and soothe Genesis’ frustration, but found his attention interrupted by swatting Sephiroth’s hand away from his face once more.

“I think they’re cool!”

Angeal bit back a sigh, pinching his nose as he shook his head. 

“Zack,” Angeal fell back into his “scolding-teacher” voice. “We’re trying to discourage-”

“You truly think so?” Sephiroth cut him off, rounding on the eager and excited puppy.

“Yeah!” Zack was practically bouncing in place, and Angeal half expected Zack to start doing squats. “It looks like you went up against a really ferocious beast!”

“I do not believe Cait was all that ferocious,” Sephiroth muttered to himself in thought.

“Yeah, but you could tell people you got it from a ferocious beast,” Zack grinned. “It's not like anyone else knows what Cait did to you below the stadium except us, right?”

To Angeal’s horror, Sephiroth was nodding along. He could have sworn Sephiroth was practically vibrating in his seat. Actually, he was vibrating in his seat. Zack was vibrating, too. 

This time, Angeal did sigh.

“Both of you. Please. Settle down.”

The fact that both his best friend and his student looked at him in confusion caused him to sink into a chair, rubbing at his face like a put-upon parent. He certainly felt like one.

A knock on the door stopped any further discussion, though it also stopped Sephiroth from touching his face any further. Small mercies, Angeal supposed. Sephiroth did not seem bothered by the knock, so Angeal hoped he wasn’t opening the door to some foolish fan or something.

No. Definitely not a fan or attacker or anything else odd.

Tseng stood in the doorway looking as poised as ever, holding a nondescript envelope in front of him. Beside him was his recent partner in training, Cissnei. Angeal had noticed that she had been hanging around him and Zack, recently. She appeared sweet and innocent but she knew her job and she knew how to execute that job.

“Tseng,” Sephiroth greeted. “What can we do for you?”

“Actually, Sephiroth, it’s what we can do for you.”

Tseng crossed the room in five short, graceful strides, coming to stand before Sephiroth with not a hint of emotion in his expression. He offered the envelope to Sephiroth. To Angeal’s surprise, Sephiroth seemed rather confused by the thing and though he accepted it, he flipped it over several times before noticing the seam. To which he began to pick at it.

This went on for roughly three minutes.

“OH!” Genesis growled, marching across the room and producing a letter opener from a pocket. “Here! You fool! Use this to slide it across the top half of the envelope! Honestly, you act as if you’ve never received mail before!”

“I haven’t.”

Genesis looked as though he had swallowed a lemon, and his face was turning as red as his coat.

“You! Are so! Infuriating!”

Those words echoed throughout the room as Sephiroth successfully managed to open the letter on his first try. Zack was already leaning over Sephiroth’s shoulder as he watched a small rectangular piece of paper slide out of the hole. 

Zack let out a low, loud whistle. “That is a lot of zeroes.”

“I…” Sephiroth was frowning at the small slip of paper, he flipped the thing over, bringing further confusion to his features. “I have no idea what this is.”

“A check, Sephiroth. That is the amount of money you have received with your very first paycheck.”

“Wait. First?” Zack balked “Sephiroth. THE Sephiroth has never received a paycheck? Ever?”

“He has not,” Tseng answered curtly. “And you would do best to keep that to yourself, Zack Fair. That information does not leave this room. Director Verdot had done quite a bit of bargaining with the President to acquire that. Your new bank account information and cards will be delivered to your room by tonight. I trust Angeal and Genesis can supply the proper explanation.”

Angeal quickly held up a hand before Genesis could lash out. 

“We’d be glad to.”

“Good. Then I suggest those participating in today’s event get to their place. The President is-”

“Can I buy tea with this?”

Everyone turned to see Sephiroth was practically vibrating in his chair, holding up the check with what might have been stars in his eyes. Angeal had never seen Sephiroth’s pupils dilate before. Ever. But they were pretty close to doing just that at this moment.

“Yes. You can order tea with the money, but you have to cash the check first,” Cissnei informed Sephiroth with a beaming smile. “Perhaps it would be best to leave the check with Angeal until he shows you how to use it?”

Sephiroth seemed to consider that for a moment before springing to his feet and handing the check to Angeal. Cissnei was a goddess-send in that moment, and he would thank Gaia herself for the girl’s tact.

Angeal safely tucked the thing away. He hoped that would be the end of it, but as Sephiroth walked towards the door, a strange grin fell on Cissnei’s face before it vanished just as quickly.

“Sephiroth, sir?” 

Sephiroth paused, turning to look back at Cissnei with curious, bright eyes.

“I think your scars look beautiful.”

Angeal took it all back. Cissnei was a menace and he didn’t like her.

—-----------------------------------

Sephiroth was well aware there was a sort of giddiness to his actions today. Even the crowd seemed to pick up on it as each poor soul fell to his blade. None of the fights were any fun. However, the promise of getting this over meant he could go home and order tea. And then he could try more tea. Then he could find a favorite and Hojo couldn’t stop him for the whole rest of the week! Having money to your name was great!

So he was a little giddy. He was allowed to be giddy today. 

But wait. Perhaps he should try to be financially responsible. Most people only get a paycheck once a week, sometimes once a month, right? He’d read about that before. It was entirely possible this would be the only paycheck he ever got. 

Angeal had already bought him several teas already. Maybe he could just ask Angeal what teas he bought and then buy the ones not ordered. But, wait, if this was to be his only paycheck, that might be a problem.

If he did find a tea he liked, he’d want to stock up on it and then hide the contents somewhere Hojo would never find it after the week was over. 

Sephiroth flicked his wrist, delivering a well timed strike that cut through a strap on the robot that was marching towards him. The entire creation fell apart in one solid slice of his blade.

The pieces of the poor broken robot were swiftly removed from the arena. Sephiroth found himself impressed by the sheer number of people willing to submit their creations to the fight. Especially given that Sephiroth had full permission to destroy them given the contract each person had to sign. 

Then again, it was just like Shinra to put that sort of clause in the fine print. 

Not that it was Sephiroth’s problem. He had his orders.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! BOYS AND GIRLS! AND ANYTHING IN BETWEEN! ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE THE MAN OF FLAME AND CRIMSON HIMSELF! GENESIS RHAPSODOS!”

Sephiroth’s thoughts about tea and the fights came to a halt as one of his dearest friends sauntered into the arena with that cheeky grin of his. His Rapier was already drawn, and Sephiroth could see the materia already primed and ready to be used in this battle. 

“Angeal tells me you’ve been distracted, my friend,” Genesis called across the field. 

Sephiroth did NOT pout. Hojo would have a conniption if Sephiroth even dared, and it would be a month before Sephiroth ever saw the light of day again. But from the growing smirk stretching on Genesis’ face, he was doing a near equivalent of the action. 

“I’m… I suppose I am excited,” Sephiroth concluded as he tried to think through the emotion. “I didn’t realize that one could find such simple pleasures such as tea. I suppose I now understand why you so long to purchase so many copies of Loveless.”

Genesis’ head cocked to the side fondly, the teasing grin melting away. “I suppose Angeal and I can ensure Hojo never finds your precious tea, Sephiroth. For a favor, of course.”

“Of course,” Sephiroth hummed. 

“Good. Then give me a fight worth all the money I am going to be wasting on you!”

And with that, Genesis kicked off the ground and charged forward, bringing his blade in a dramatically wide arc across his chest, and then bringing it back the opposite direction as he got closer. Sephiroth easily raised Masamune to block the strike. He met Genesis’s gaze over their blades, their twin smiles mirroring each other as Sephiroth forced Genesis to fling back the way he’d come, watching in satisfaction as Genesis dug his heels into the ground as he skid backwards.  

There was a warm satisfaction whenever Sephiroth fought Genesis or Angeal.

It wasn’t the same as the time he fought Cloud Strife. That eager desperation to meet blades with a man who could match him strike for strike was a sensation Sephiroth realized he’d never feel with anyone else. 

It certainly didn’t match the utter and bizarre bafflement that accompanied his defeat to Cait Sith. He still wasn’t sure what to think about that clash of blades other than the fact that the aftermath had tickled the itch Cloud left behind, and the robot’s uncanny ability to predict him and dodge him was something no other creature had managed before outside of Cloud, let alone to dodge him every single time . 

But the sensation he felt with Genesis and Angeal still filled him with warmth. Only now that he had been in two situations where he lost did he realize that strange warm sensation was hope. Hope that one day his two friends would surpass him and leave him behind, giving Sephiroth a new goal, a new desperation.

Genesis broke left, coming up on Sephiroth’s side, to which Sephiroth easily turned to meet the strike. Genesis, however, delivered blow after blow, forcing Sephiroth to block or risk getting cut. 

Sephiroth was pleased to see Genesis had improved in his speed, leading Sephiroth to exert more effort in order to keep up. It still wasn’t the same as with Cloud, but the glee Sephiroth felt as he noted his friend was improving bled into the fight. 

These little play fights brought Sephiroth such glee as he jumped away from Genesis, goading his friend to give chase. Despite the fact that Sephiroth knew he was stronger, he could pretend that they were evenly matched, that there wasn’t some part of himself holding back. 

They danced around the arena like one of those stage plays Genesis claimed to loathe and nitpick. 

Sephiroth had a feeling that if he ever made such a statement to Genesis’ face, the man would try to kill him. 

Eventually, Genesis pulled back, chanting under his breath as he activated the runes on Rapier, causing the flame to alight. The crowd gasped and awed in excitement as the flames danced through the air. 

Then Genesis lunged once more, and the flames sparked as they met Masamune, threatening to curl around the blade and snake down Sephiroth’s arm. Not that Sephiroth minded a few burns. Still, he flicked his wrist and sent the man careening away. 

Genesis’ foot barely touched the ground before he launched himself off the ground once more, spinning in mid air with his flames creating a halo around him before he brought his blade back down. The flames decorating Rapier seemed to pan out like wings as the blade was once again blocked by Masamune. 

“Shall I make things hotter, my friend?” Genesis inquired with that playful grin of his.

“By all means,” Sephiroth responded in kind. 

The thing about Genesis was that he learned from every battle he lost, and then he created such beautiful tricks and tactics to prove he could. He found ways to make himself better.

It was one of the things that Sephiroth so admired about his dear friend. He found ways to thrive and grow despite his defeat.

Oh. 

So that was why…

Genesis released several fira spells that burst forth into balls of flame. With a wave of his hand, the fire began to move and dance around until it surrounded Sephiroth on all sides. 

Ah. This would be interesting. 

“Well done, Genesis.”

Genesis only huffed at the praise and began to move his arm about. The flames charged at Sephiroth in groups of two, none coming from the same direction In order to ensure that he prevented any single flame from striking him, he had to move at a sharp speed, constantly keeping an ear out for where the flames swished through the air to pinpoint where they would strike next. Had Genesis allowed the flames to charge all at once, he would have been trapped in an explosion. 

A thought to suggest later. When Angeal wasn’t listening or watching. 

But the result of this tactic created a very noticeable wall of flame and smoke that hid Sephiroth from view. Perhaps it was meant more as a distracting tactic than to harm, but Sephiroth had been trained like this for years. 

It was easy to pick out when and where Genesis landed in the confusion of the flames. 

In the next second, Sephiroth pounced through the flames and smoke, hooking the flat part of Masamune around Genesis legs and sending him tumbling to the ground. It was easy enough to pin Genesis to the ground as the announcers quickly began the countdown that would signal the end of the battle. Genesis would be upset with him, later. But the President would be upset with him if he lost on purpose. 

Their twenty minute spar had been long enough, and quite satisfactory, too.

“AND THE WINNER IS SEPHIROTH! WITH THAT IMPRESSIVE BLOCKING DISPLAY! GIVE THE MAN A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!”

Sephiroth hummed as he unpinned Genesis and helped his best friend to his feet. 

“Another botched attempt at the spotlight,” Genesis grumbled. “One of these days, Sephiroth, I will beat you.”

“I know you will,” Sephiroth hummed fondly. “We know it's possible, now. So I expect you to work all the harder to defeat me.” He paused, tilting his head. “You know, I’ve always admired that about you.”

“Oh?”

“You have tasted defeat so many times and yet you have gotten back to your feet each time. A lesser man would have given up years ago. As Shinra’s perfect weapon, I never had such hope or reasons to improve. I simply… was. I believe I admire you all the more, now that I understand.” 

Genesis stared at Sephiroth incredulously before turning away with a huff. “You can be so stupidly poetic sometimes, you fool.”

“It truly would be a great honor to be defeated by you, Genesis.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Genesis grumbled and sauntered out of the arena. 

Huh. His ears were strangely pink. Was he sick?

—-------------------------------------

Annette hummed to herself as she finished prepping the tea. The lovely aroma was a nice change to the coffee many of the people in the office drank. The two steaming mugs filled the room with a lovely scent of Earl Grey. 

It was nice to have someone who could appreciate the nicer beverages in life, and Shera was such a darling. Annette was pleased Reeve opted to introduce them. 

“These have been going on all week?” Shera asked as she observed the screen.

“Oh! Yes,” Annette frowned at the screen. “Believe it or not, but Director Tuesti came up with this idea. Though it’s certainly gotten us quite a bit of funding we’ve never had before.”

“I heard Director Tuesti managed to create generators that don’t run on mako,” Shera said. “On my way here, I ran into a group who was re-purposing the wind turbines near Kalm, and those “Solar Farms” in the waste caught my ear.”

“Oh! Yes! We’re quite proud of those! Director Tuesti designed them, himself, and used the funding to get several going. Because of the extra funding, we managed to have enough back up generators up and running to keep Sector 1 afloat after the loss of the Reactor.”

Annette smiled as she found herself gushing over Reeve’s latest and greatest creation. From what Reeve had told her, Shera was a great mechanic and inventor who was in the Shinra Space Program. Annette had expected some rough and tumble girl, only to find the timid and bubbly Shera. Sweet, kind and considerate Shera who was more than happy to listen to Annette brag about her beloved boss.

Annette adored her.

Shera’s attention had suddenly gone back to the screen as Genesis Rhapsodos, Soldier First, walked into the arena. Annette didn’t mind, though. Soldier First, Rhapsodos was said to be a rather skilled swordsman, and his fight was broadcasted to be promising. He was certainly a force to be reckoned with but as always, the fight ended in a swift loss. It was certainly enough to appease the audience, and Annette was pleased to see Rhapsodos was not overly upset by his loss. The property damage that man could cause when he threw a tantrum was atrocious, as evident by the broken reactor in Sector 1.

“Well, that was certainly entertaining,” Shera hummed as she brought the cup to her lips. 

Shera was her kindred sister, Annette decided. She adored this woman. 

“Why did it take us this long to meet, Shera? Do you not come to Shinra to meet with Director Palmer?”

Shera shook her head. “That man prefers to video call from the safety of his own office. Probably for the best because Cid would tear the man a new one if they ever spoke in person. I had hoped Cid had come here, but… and he’s been so bright recently.”

There was a strange little flush to Shera’s cheeks as she seemed to recall something. It was rather cute, and Annette was more than happy to interrogate another woman on their love life. 

Except, then the announcers came back, and their voices echoed through the entire department.

“LADIES! GENTLEMEN! AND THOSE IN BETWEEN! PLEASE WELCOME OUR NEXT CHALLENGER! A MAN AIMING FOR THE STARS BUT STUCK ON THIS CRUEL PLANET! CAPTAIN! CID! HIGHWIND!”

Shera’s cup suddenly shattered as it hit the linoleum floor.

—-------------------------

Sephiroth found himself confused. 

This… Cid Highwind had sauntered onto the field much the same way Genesis had, but unlike the showy dramatic way Genesis held himself, Cid Highwind moved as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Which was odd for one of his opponents.

The man was dressed like any number of off duty pilots Sephiroth had encountered over the years; flight jacket tied around his waist, and goggles pushed up. His plain blue shirts was splattered with grease stains, implying he had just wandered into the arena from the maintenance bay by accident. The only evidence to the contrary was the weapon sling lazily over his shoulders. 

The spear was taller than Highwind, a black rod with tape wrapped around three places. The button, up near the tip, and roughly in the center. Highwind seemed rather comfortable with the thing, leaning on one leg as though the spear were helping him keep balance on a strange, invisible tightrope. 

The spear was clearly well loved. Polished and shiny. The tape looked new, and the tip of the spear had clearly been sharpened and polished semi-recently. Yet while the spear was clearly well used and loved, the numerous materia slots were oddly barren. Strange. It was one thing for Cloud Strife, a Soldier like man, to keep his materia slots empty. It was another for this unenhanced individual to follow in those footsteps. The lack of materia would be a severe handicap for a normal human looking to challenge any Soldier, much less Sephiroth.

Then there was the fact that Cid Highwind wore a red ribbon around his left arm, just as Cloud Strife and Cait Sith had. Sephiroth’s gaze practically gravitated to the oddness of the thing. Twice was a coincidence, but thrice? That was the beginning of a pattern.

The strangest of all, was that even after the match was announced, the man hadn’t moved. They had just been… staring at each other… for the last minute and thirty five seconds.

The crowd was restless. It had started as anxious whispers that steadily grew in intensity. With his enhanced hearing, Sephiroth found himself subjected to the wave of silent voices, the roughness of the sound grating on his ears. Eventually, the people grew impatient, forgoing their whispers and getting louder and louder until they were nearly shouting. It wasn’t long before someone from the audience gave a shout;

“JUST FIGHT ALREADY!”

And yet, Highwind didn’t bother to move. He stood there, lazily twisting his spear in circle on his shoulder as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Sephiroth was so utterly baffled by this man’s obliviousness and decided it was time to do something.

“Are you waiting for something?” Sephiroth decided to ask. 

“Yep!” Cid Highwind grinned like they were having a casual conversation on a Sunday. 

“And that would be?”

“Ladies first.”

Ladies?

Sephiroth had no idea what this man was talking about. Was he drunk, perhaps? High? There didn’t appear to be any trace of any sort of chemical or likewise on his person that Sephiroth could smell. The man smelled of grease, and maybe of the wind over Midgar, but nothing else noticeable.

“I am afraid I don’t understand. Though I suggest you strike soon, Cid Highwind.”

“I already told ya I was waiting on you!”

“I must insist you go first.”

“I ain’t a woman!”

“Neither am I?”

“Ya got the hair for it! So come on, kid! Ladies first!”

Oh. Oh! The man was trying to goad him into a fight. Was that it? It was different from the way Genesis would try to taunt him. Still… that was rather… hurtful. Sephiroth was proud of his hair, and he found himself touching it at the comment. Were there others who thought something similar? 

Was this… what being self-conscious felt like?

It was a rather unpleasant feeling.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU JERK!”

“HIS HAIR IS FLAWLESS!”

“KICK HIS BUTT SEPHIROTH!”

The sounds of protest from the audience caused Sephiroth to still, glancing up at the eager crowd who was rushing to his defense. He’d never paid much attention to his fanclub other than when Genesis spoke about it. He wasn’t permitted to interact with them or speak with them unless PR asked him to. Hojo and PR normally did all the work with his fans. He had no idea they were so supportive of his choice.

There was a sudden chant of “KICK HIS BUTT!” going around the stadium as more and more people spoke up in his defense. It was somewhat overwhelming and Sephiroth found himself shifting his focus to his opponent.

But Cid Highwind seemed amused by all this.

“Well, kid. Ya gonna keep them waiting or what?”

Clever. Cid Highwind had placed Sephiroth in a situation where he was effectively trapped by the likes of his fans and the society around him. Whether planned or not, Sephiroth was impressed. If the red ribbon meant what Sephiroth believed it to mean, then he would be in for quite the fight. 

“Who am I to refuse my fans,” Sephiroth admitted with an incline of his head. 

Then he lunged.

He waited till he was close, not wanting to hurt Highwind too much, but knowing that the crowd wouldn’t be satisfied with simply knocking the man on the ground. The poor man didn’t stand a chance, and Sephiroth truly felt sorry for him. 

Masamune swung through the air, momentarily reflecting the sunlight into Sephiroth’s eyes. Not that it bothered him. He simply needed to swing his beloved blade in such a way that he could knock Highwind out with the least amount of damage possible. 

He could practically hear the sound of Masamune cutting the wind, even if he couldn’t see how she flew. He never grew tired of her beauty and grace. She had been his longest standing companion and she never once failed him.

CLANG!

Until this moment.

Sephiroth blinked for a moment, trying to process the source of the sound. Looking into Highwind’s face, he could see that earlier smugness hadn’t faded at all, and he was now mere inches from the man’s face. No longer was Highwind’s spear resting lazily on his shoulders, but was instead braced in front of him in a defensive position.

Highwind had blocked him.

Sephiroth’s mind was reeling. No unenhanced human had ever done such a feat before. And yet here was this man, standing before him, with his spear preventing Masamune’s attack from getting any closer. Not even the aftershock had blown Highwind away as he held fast against what might as well have been the weight of a boulder being thrown at him, ready to squash him where he stood. He was smug as smug could be, matching Sephiroth’s gaze.

“Impossible,” Sephiroth breathed. 

“Oh yeah? Try it again, kid. See where that gets ya.”

Sephiroth released the clash between blade and spear, sending himself a few feet back to try and gather his bearing, kicking up dust as he slid. Cid once more took a lazy stance as though he hadn’t just blocked Masamune of all blades. 

She was the strongest, greatest blade ever created. A weapon of heroes, he had once been told. None could beat her. Not without suffering the consequences. Sephiroth’s strength alone should have been enough to make this man collapse. It was one thing for an enhanced individual to meet his every strike, and another for a strange robot to dodge. 

But to just… block his strike?

Impossible.

Who was this strange man? Did he have ties to Cait Sith and Cloud Strife? Was that why he wore a similar ribbon?

Sephiroth had a feeling Cid Highwind would not answer such questions. He also had the sinking suspicion that the man would simply mock him for asking.

Grimacing, Sephiroth moved. Faster this time. He needed to know if this had been a fluke, or-

CLANG!

No. It wasn’t a fluke.

Sephiroth had attacked from the opposite side this time. He was naturally left handed, so there was far more power in his swing this time around. This time, the sun didn’t blind Sephiroth, and he watched in awe as Highwind twirled the spear in hand and braced to take the blow. The shockwave that followed, caused Highwind to move three centimeters to the left of where he stood, even succeeded in kicking up dust. But the strike itself had done little, and the barrier once more trembled under the ringing clang as Highwind’s clothes blew as if ruffled by a strong wind. 

“How is this possible?” Sephiroth marveled. “You are unenhanced.”

“Yep! But believe me, kid! Ya don’t get to learn to be a pilot without learning to weather a few storms.”

Highwind, no, Captain Highwind had managed to block his strikes because he knew how to weather storms? What an odd statement.

“What nature of captain are you, Captain Highwind?”

“Me? An air pilot. Owner of the Tiny Bronco flight industry, Head Air and Space Engineer of Rocket Town, and the First Man into space!”

A pilot and an engineer. And the man chosen to be the pilot for the trip into space. An impressive resume, to say the least, but it didn’t explain why the man was here. And how he managed to block every blow.

“You are an intriguing man, Captain Highwind.”

Captain Highwind made a face. “You say ‘Captain’ like I’m some stuffy old man! Just call me Cid!”

What an interesting man.

Not as interesting as the fact that the spear and blade were still locked as they were apparently chatting. 

Again. He needed to see it again. 

Sephiroth momentarily threw himself backwards, but didn’t give Cid time to recover. Instead charging forward with Masamune already poised to strike. Like a master of his craft, Cid twirled his spear around again, and managed to block Masamune at the last second. Highwind’s clothes blew back from the force of taking the blow head on, but the man himself seemed unbothered despite how the air rang with the clash, and the barrier rumbled and shimmered around them. 

Again. 

Sephiroth didn’t bother to draw back completely this time, instead raising his blade to cut from the right. Blocked. Followed by a swift swing from the left. Blocked. He struck from an angle, starting the bottom right and swinging towards the upper left. Blocked. He brought his blade down on Highwind directly from above. 

Blocked.

Sephiroth flung himself backwards once more, then quickly charged as he had before. His strike would involve less finesse than his fans preferred, but it would strike true. At least, it should have. Except Highwind’s spear twirled to not only block, but to bat the blade away. Sephiroth was quick to correct his stance as Highwind took a step forward against the aftershock.

Sephiroth was amazed at the sheer strength and resistance this man held, even as he caught himself from tripping in a way that would anger Hojo. 

WHACK!

Only, he ended up tripping anyway as something slapped aggressively against the back of his head.

Had…

Had Highwind just hit him upside the head with the butt of his spear?

“Ya ready to take the kiddie gloves off, yet?”

Sephiroth had prevented himself from falling flat on his own face. But he had certainly stumbled, and Captain Highwind had definitely hit him on the back of the head. It was… utterly ridiculous. And yet the rush of such an action had Sephiroth suddenly giddy. The earlier joy of being able to purchase tea came back to him in waves as he readjusted his grip on Masamune. 

In the next instance, he spun on his heels and dragged Masamune through the ground, itself, before flicking it upwards, delivering a blow from below. Blocking the blade would be difficult but not impossible, and-

Highwind had just managed to pin Masamune using the spear. 

Absolutely incredible. 

Highwind wasn’t done.

In the next second, Highwind released the blade, spinning himself along with his spear, using the momentum to propel himself upwards in an impressive leap that sent him practically flying into the air. The man’s head nearly brushed the top of the barrier, which was quite a ways up. Roughly 190 feet, if Sephiroth calculated correctly. 

Captain Highwind was descending quickly, laughing with eager glee as he used his body to slow his descent ever so slightly. Had this been a normal man, Sephiroth would have declared the Captain dead on impact. 

But he wore the ribbon the others did. Sephiroth was beginning to think that it really did mean something.

A fight was a fight, though. The President would be sorely disappointed if Sephiroth didn’t react, and he might even take away Sephiroth’s brand new paycheck! He couldn’t have that!

With the worry for his beloved yet-to-be purchased tea collection, and the thrill of the battle coursing through his adrenaline enticed mind, Sephiroth chose to meet Highwind mid-air. He pushed himself off the ground, poising Masamune to strike once more.

Sephiroth couldn’t stop the gasp of awe as Captain Highwind blocked the strike mid-air. 

Not only did he stop the strike while they were clashing in mid-air, he also used the momentum to propel himself over Sephiroth’s head, changing the course of his descent. 

WHACK!

That hit to the back of his head was a little harder and Sephiroth rotated in mid-air to glare down at the Captain as he reached up to touch the spot he’d been whacked. The action was a mistake, because Captain Highwind had already reached the ground and was already pushing off the ground to reach Sephiroth again.

To Sephiroth’s horror, he quickly realized that the Captain hadn’t needed to use the momentum to jump the first time around. The man was upon Sephiroth in seconds, spear raised and ready to strike. Sephiroth raised Masamune but found his precious blade batted away with the butt end of the spear, and before Sephiroth could raise his blade once more to block Highwind’s strike, the tip of the spear was dragging across his face, right over his nose and below his eyes, from left to right, as their bodies flipped in mid-air.

Sephiroth barely managed to land on his feet, while Highwind landed with the grace of a jumping Behemoth, kicking up dust and dirt all around the two of them and blocking them from view of the audience. 

His face was slowly becoming wet in certain places. Sticky, too.

Lifting a hand, Sephiroth found that the strike had left a long cut across his face, and Sephiroth was now bleeding. Sephiroth whipped around to stare at Highwind as the dust cleared away. The man was standing a few feet away, once more back in the pose he had started the fight in.

Cocky. Laid back. Spear slung across his shoulders.

Highwind had drawn first blood. 

A spike of pure joy shot through Sephiroth as he realized his prediction was right. Highwind could defeat him. 

“That’ll sure leave a nasty scar,” Captain Highwind let out a low, pleased whistle. “Got ya pretty good!”

Sephiroth hummed, turning to fully face Captain Highwind. 

“I don’t scar.”

A redundant statement, given that Cait Sith’s scars still remained on his face. But this was not his battle with Cait Sith, but rather a strange cocky pilot.

“Not normally, no. But ya see, Cait did some fancy little magic thing on ya. That strange healing ya got. It’s been a bit stunted. Will probably wear off by the end of the day, but if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’ll leave a lovely little scar by the time your system kicks back in.”

Cait Sith. This man knew Cait Sith intimately to call him simply “Cait”. He knew what Cait Sith had done to cause the scars, too. Any lingering doubt in Sephiroth’s mind was gone, and now he had answers as to why Cait Sith’s wounds had scarred. Vague answers, but still answers. He hoped these scars would stay for the rest of his life!

Highwind could give him more scars. 

The thought enticed Sephiroth, and he found himself raising Masamune without much thought behind the action. The only thing he really cared about was the promise of more scars. He wanted to wear them proudly! To display them for all the world to see! 

He could get scars. He could be defeated. 

Just like everyone else.

“Well look at that,” Captain Highwind teased. “Ya look like a kid in a candy store. Ya finally ready to have some fun?”

“Yes.” 

Sephiroth practically flew forward, raising Masamune to attack. Naturally, Captain Highwind blocked the attack. That didn’t stop Sephiroth. He was determined to get more scars from the man. He danced around the battlefield, slash and cutting and swinging his blade, trying to tempt the Captain to act on the attack once more. The man, however, refused to budge. Each strike and swing was met with a block by the spear. Highwind seemed amused by their little song and dance and continued to beat Sephiroth upside the head every now and then. Sephiroth swore each strike was stronger and harder than the last. Sephiroth simply went faster. Struck harder. Did everything in his power to make the Captain switch to the offensive. 

And yet, Captain Highwind did nothing but whack him.

At one point, Sephiroth launched the Captain back into the air, attempting to follow him, but finding he could not gain quite enough momentum to reach the height Captain Highwind could reach. This only proved to fuel Sephiroth’s frustration at the lack of attack, and as Captain Highwind began his descent, Sephiroth once more lunged up to meet him mid-air.

Sephiroth could see it in the man’s eyes the second their gaze locked.

Captain Highwind was done with this fight. 

“It’s been fun, kid. But I’ve got things to do!”

No.

As Masamune met the spear, the Captain had decided he was done with blocking and proceeded to use the momentum of their clash to not only block, but to send Sephiroth shooting into the ground. The throw was brutal, but Sephiroth managed to catch himself, causing the ground to crack beneath his feet much the way it had with Cloud. 

Sephiroth turned to look for Captain Highwind once more, only to discover the man had landed behind him.

WHAM!

For a second Sephiroth’s vision swam.

There was a steadily growing sting on the back of his head, and all his nerves seemed to be traveling through his body and focusing on that singular aspect of feeling in his body. It hurt far more than the other whacks had, and Sephiroth was starting to think that had been Captain Highwind’s plan all along.

“Ya know, your hair’s not half bad, kid. Really cushioned a lot of those blows. You must maintain it real nice.”

He was only distantly aware of his body crumpling to the ground as his vision went black.

—--------------------------------

The crowd was deathly quiet as they waited for Sephiroth to get back up. 

Except he didn’t. Not even when Captain Cid Highwind poked the man in the head.

“Yep! He’s out!” the pilot called out with a wave to the President Suite. “Guess I won!”

Angeal wasn’t entirely sure what happened next other than the fact that the crowd went absolutely feral. It started with someone loudly shrieking “NO” to Captain Highwind’s statement. Which was then followed by several people sharing the sentiment in varying degrees.

“HE CAN’T LOSE TO SCUM LIKE YOU!”

“HOW DARE YOU WIN WHEN YOU MOCKED HIS PRECIOUS HAIR!”

“GET UP SEPHY GET UP!”

“YOU RUINED HIS PERFECT FACE!”

“HOW COULD YOU HIT MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT!?”

“SOMEBODY KILL HIM!”

The crowd seemed to grow in protest until the noise became a loud, undignified roar of pure fury that was hard to decipher the many voices that screeched and yelled their spiking fury. Angeal was getting closer to the arena when the sound of repeated and mismatched thudding reached his ears. He finally broke into the open only to stare in horror as about a hundred dedicated fans had gotten up and were aggressively throwing themselves against the barrier.

It was pure chaos. 

So captivated by the crowd and the utter chaos around him, Angeal nearly missed Captain Highwind altogether. Had Genesis not called out;

“ANGEAL! YOU FOOL! ABOVE YOU!”

Angeal would have had no idea that Captain Highwind was landing directly behind him. 

Not one to waste an opportunity, Angeal lunged for Captain Highwind with the intent to drag the man away from the mob, to both protect him and bring him to Shinra. But Angeal had never been a match for Sephiroth. Why he thought he could catch this man was beyond him.

Captain Highwind twirled his spear once, successfully knocking Angeal’s hand away, and then gave a second twist before he jammed the butt end into Angeal’s chest. The strength behind such a move surprised Angeal, and he found the air suddenly rushing out of his lungs as he was shoved backwards a good sixteen feet. Far enough away that he had to force his breathing to work again before he broke into a mad sprint to catch up with the pilot.

The Captain was fast, but not nearly fast enough to outrun two Soldiers. Which was why the head start was to his advantage. He’d clearly already trounced Genesis while Angeal had been trying to get into the arena. Genesis had an already fading bruise to the face, and he at least had the decency to flip Sephiroth over and check his face if the blood on his glove meant anything.

The halls of the stadium weren’t winding or crooked by any sense of the word. They were mostly a straight shot to any and all exits, and they were ridiculously wide, allowing Shinra to station guards all along the pathway. 

So why did the troopers look confused to see them.

Angeal skidded to a halt, Genesis mimicking the action when he realized Angeal had stopped. 

“You! Trooper! Did you see a man with a spear come down this way?”

“Um… no? Should I have?”

Angeal’s eyes widened as he whipped back around and raced back to the arena. He’d assumed Captain Highwind would try to make a straight shot out, but now he wasn’t so sure. What could this man’s endgame be?

There were stairs near the entrance to the ring, the same stairs Angeal had descended to get to the entrance. He hadn’t thought about them, but either he or Genesis should have at least checked to make sure Captain Highwind hadn’t used them. He was a fool for not checking.

Angeal’s phone started ringing. 

“Zack! What-?”

“Your guy is on the roof of the stadium!” Zack rushed out. “He’s just waving at the crowd. Looks like he’s saying something, but nobody can make out what. There’s a news helicopter trying to get close and- Oh! Oh DANG! Okay! That was kinda cool!”

“What, Zack? What was cool?”

“He jumped on it! It was so cool Angeal! He just launched himself off the roof of the stadium and threw himself across the air and grabbed onto the helicopter!”

“He’s commandeered a news helicopter!” Angeal hung up and turned to Genesis. “We need to track it. Now!”

They weren’t the only ones who thought it was a good idea to follow the helicopter, though. The angry mob had made its way out of the stadium and into the streets in time to watch Captain Highwind take the helicopter. The streets were quickly blocked by an angry hoard of people chasing the helicopter that was making a bee-line for the Sector 2 Reactor. A feeling of dread sank into Angeal’s stomach as the Shinra troopers found their attention redirected to doing crowd control. 

“Angeal! Genesis! Quickly!” came the voice of Tseng as they gaped over the crowd of people. The man was hovering near the edge of the crowd, hovering a few feet in the air, outside the range of normal unenhanced citizens. “We need to get to the Reactor before the mob does!”

Neither needed to be told twice.

—-------------------------

“I’ve got identification on him, Mr. President,” Veld was saying as he kept his gaze pointedly fixed on his phone. “Captain Cid Highwind is our top aerospace engineer in Rocket Town, and the person who was chosen to be the pilot for Shinra’s space voyage. Palmer’s division.”

The coward trembled and made a sound of distress from his seat, tea cup clacking against its saucer as Palmer’s hands shook. The President’s thunderous glare turned on the man, causing him to squeak like a wheezing mouse, spilling his tea all over himself as he dropped his cup.

“Pal-mer,” the President said slowly, dangerously.

“I-I-I-!” the blubbering idiot couldn’t get a word out. “I had no idea-I swear- I didn’t-!”

“I expect an explanation or answer, Palmer,” the President tsked.

“I-I-I-! The lady! One of my- one of my other workers! She’s here! In Midgar! Looking for Highwind! They might be in cahoots! I-I-I had no idea at the time! I swear! But I gave her a ticket! She should be here somewhere! Her-her-her name is She-Shera!”

Beside Veld, Reeve’s glass of water shattered in his hand. Not that anyone but Veld noticed because the President was too busy barking orders, demanding that someone go find this woman named Shera. A problem because all available hands were trying to stop an angry mob from descending on Sector 2’s Reactor. Heidegger and Lazard were doing damage control, so the President ended up ordering Scarlet’s lackeys to go and find Shera.

“Out of curiosity,” Veld kept his voice low so only Reeve would hear. “Will they find the woman?”

“No.”

And that was that.

Veld found out later that there was, indeed, no sight of Shera. Shortly after Cid Highwind had shown up on the TV, Reeve’s assistant, Annette had escorted Shera away from all the chaos. The woman had left Annette’s company to head for the stadium. Any and all footage of the woman was gone beyond that moment in Urban Development.

Veld was impressed.

And absolutely terrified.

—----------------------------------

The only reason any of them saw it was because they were following behind in the Turk helicopter. The helicopter they were chasing flew over a few of the taller structures, and as they passed, just out of view of the mob, Captain Highwind made his escape. Jumping off the helicopter and onto the nearby rooftops. The helicopter continued on its path, but Tseng quickly made a bee-line for the Captain.

Angeal and Genesis were quick to jump from the Turk helicopter as they came upon Captain Highwind. 

The good Captain was proving to live up to his reputation as he stopped in his tracks and twirled his spear to block both Rapier and Angeal’s secondary blade from coming down on him. With a great heave, Captain Highwind sent the both of them stumbling backwards, skidding a few feet across the rooftop.

“Are you quite done playing chicken?” Genesis demanded. 

“Was never playing to begin with!” Captain Highwind shot right back. “Just needed an easy way out here to get the mob off my back! Wasn’t expecting the crowd to turn into a bunch of zombies over a comment about the kid’s hair and a scratch to the face.”

Captain Highwind at least had the decency to look sheepish about cutting open Sephiroth’s face. He reached up to scratch the back of his head, getting a worried look on his face.

“Think he’ll be mad about that?”

“He’s ecstatic,” Genesis gripped. “He’ll be insufferable if it scars!”

Captain Highwind shrugged off his sheepishness and opted to give them a lazy grin. 

“Welp. Should probably get this over with. I’ve got places to be!”

And with that, Captain Highwind leapt into the air and immediately brought his spear down on the propeller of the Turk helicopter. Genesis and Angeal were left to gape in horror as the propeller sparked and shrieked before it slowed its spin, taking Tseng crashing towards the ground. Angeal rushed towards the edge of the the side to see that the angry mob had quickly scattered at the sight of the helicopter, and that Tseng had managed to get out of the helicopter in time. 

Genesis was giving chase to Highwind, who had landed on a building opposite the street.

“He’s like an overly hoppy rabbit!” Genesis growled. “Angeal! Launch me!”

“What!?”

“Stop arguing, you fool! He’ll get away!”

Angeal really didn’t like this, but he pulled the Buster off his back and let himself use the flat part as a sort of platform. He spun in a circle twice, building up momentum, before allowing Genesis to jump onto the blade and launched him across the street and to the rooftop next to them. Captain Highwind was already a good distance away, but Angeal had no doubt that Genesis’ use of spells and mako strength would allow him to catch up with the man.

He made to follow, just in case Captain Highwind decided to jump the length of the road again. But as he went, his phone began to ring. He tried to keep pace as he followed the pair.

“Angeal, here! I’m in pursuit!”

“Good. Keep eyes on him as long as you can.”

Director Veld was calling him directly? Angeal hadn’t even been aware the Director had his number. 

“Director! Tseng was-”

“Tseng is safe on the ground, thanks to your pupil’s quick reflexes,” Director Veld cut off. “There are Turks coming to your location. Just stay on the line.”

“Roger!”

He had pretty much caught up to Genesis, speed wise. And Genesis was nearly on top of Captain Highwind. They’d have the man in seconds, especially if Genesis managed to stop Captain Highwind from jumping over the next ledge. 

They were getting strangely close to the edge of Sector 2. 

Angeal chose that moment to look back at Captain Highwind. Despite the fact that both Angeal and Genesis were basically on top of the man, he looked pleased. And it was only then that Angeal realized the man was holding something he quickly tossed away.

There was the sound of several loud bangs from off in the distance, close to the Shinra building. Angeal, distracted by the sound, whipped around in time to see several parts of the Shinra Airspace division warehouses go up in smoke. 

In his ear, Veld broke into a series of cursing and yelling.

By the time he whipped back around, Captain Highwind was making to jump. Genesis, naturally, made to match his pace and snag the man out of the air. 

Only for Captain Highwind to fake him out and instead tip forward and into the alley below. Genesis, like Director Veld, broke out into a string of curses as he landed in a messy heap on the other rooftop. Angeal barely managed to skid to a stop, hoping to catch a glimpse of Captain Highwind as he emerged from the alley. 

No such moment happened.

“Angeal! Talk to me! Have you caught him!” Director Veld was barking into his ear.

Genesis had scrambled back to his feet and made to stare down into the alleyway, yelling obscenities as he searched desperately. Deciding that was getting him nowhere, Angeal watched as Genesis launched himself after Captain Highwind.

There was a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Negative. We lost him.”

Those words were followed by a terrified chorus of shrieks, followed by Reactor 2 exploding. 

Captain Highwind was gone, and boy had he left a statement.

—-------------------------

It was late, past midnight, when the door to the church opened. Taking a quick glance around, Cid noted that Aerith had already gone home with the kids. Which made sense. Kiddos like that needed an early bedtime. He was a little disappointed to see that almost everyone else was asleep.

Barret was sprawled out on one of the pews, practically dangling off the dang thing. Nanaki was lying curled up in front of the flowers with Yuffie passed out, head pillowed on his stomach. Vincent was awake though, and was leaning against the wall near the entrance as though waiting.

“You’re late,” he accused.

“Got lost.”

Vincent hummed in that grumpy way of his before gliding forward and towards the back of the church. Cid followed, already smelling the scent of cooking meat on the smoldering fire.

Tifa sat beside it, keeping the embers burning as Cloud lay sleeping in her lap. 

“Hey, Cid. Glad you made it back,” Tifa hummed, keeping her voice low. “We kept dinner warm for you.”

Things were peaceful after that. Cloud slept on, oblivious to the world around him. Gaia knew the kid needed moments like that. Tifa kept him soothed, gently carding her fingers through his hair as she leaned against the Fusion sword buster form. Vincent sat on Cid’s other side, eyes closed as he meditated or did whatever it was he normally did. Tifa was the one who broke the news.

“Reeve sent a message a few hours ago. Shera showed up at Shinra looking for you before the event started.”

Cid swallowed, remembering the days he woke up. Those beautiful blissful moments when he treated her as he always did. At least, as he always did in the future. He’d been enjoying the way he could suddenly make her flush all red and bright until the illusion had been shattered. 

“She alright?”

“Reeve got her somewhere safe.”

Cid nodded, giving a sniff and swiping at his nose. “Right. You lot spin that bottle before you passed out waiting for little ole me?”

Tifa grinned, something a little dark in the look.

“Sure did!”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense! Who’d it choose?”

Chapter Text

The truck practically rattled as it drove through the dry, barren land that surrounded Midgar. It was a relief, when they finally reunited with pavement and the ride smoothed out. The truck was so crowded with people, everyone ran the risk of bumping heads with their neighbor. Shinra’s strange new game was drawing people in from all over Gaia, many hoping for a chance to defeat the great hero Sephiroth.

Barely four days ago, someone had done just that. 

A blonde woman sat clutching a newspaper she’d found in Kalm just yesterday, staring at the three faces carefully cropped to sit side by side in one frame. One was a man perhaps a few years younger than herself, grinning with a cigarette in his mouth, the other was a robotic toy cat, dancing atop a toy moogle. 

But the third was of a man who was staring at the camera with what many would mistake to be a disinterested nature.

Claudia knew better. 

He seemed relaxed in the photo. More relaxed than she had ever seen him before. He was sure of himself, in mind, body, and with the task he was about to complete. There was a calmness to him, too. Despite the confusing situation, Claudia found herself proud of the man her boy had become. 

The truck pulled to a stop, and the driver quickly opened a flap and turned to shout at them.

“Alright! We’re here! You’ll go get your temporary IDs at the building to the left! Don’t lose them!”

Claudia swallowed, clutching the paper close to her chest as she shuffled along with everyone else to the edge of the truck. She was most grateful to her companion for helping her down from the truck, giving him a tired, weary smile. 

“Thank you, Brian.”

Brian sniffed, but beckoned Claudia to follow. The entire trip had been tense between them. First the incident on the mountain and now this? Claudia was lucky Brian agreed to let her come along. 

They followed along the crowd of people going into the city, getting their IDs, and moving on through the line of people to await temporary housing. They were told they were to remain in the Sector 6 Slums, for it was all they could afford. Claudia wrung her hands, waiting for someone to come greet them and take them to where they would stay. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous, but everything about this place set her on edge.

She felt like the entire station was watching her.

It probably was. Claudia found herself tightening the scarf around her blonde hair. And what she wouldn’t give for a pair of sunglasses to hide even just some of her features. Her son looked too much like her, and the whole reason she was even wearing the scarf was because someone had asked if she was related to the “Rogue Soldier” as they traveled through Kalm.

Her son wasn’t supposed to be old enough to be a Soldier. Her son wasn’t supposed to have left home. 

Her son also wasn’t supposed to have suddenly become an adult seemingly overnight, and yet that was the situation Claudia found herself in. 

To think it had already been a month since that fateful day. A day that started like any other. She’d woken up convincing herself to face the day as she always did. Things had changed since the incident on the mountain, but she was determined to try and make the best of things for Cloud’s sake. When her son failed to wake up for breakfast, Claudia had gone to his door to wake him.

Instead she’d found a blonde man standing in the middle of her son’s room. 

Back then, she hadn’t seen the resemblance. She hadn’t seen the spiky blonde hair cut short. The piercing blue eyes, tainted green by mako. The familiar jaw that mimicked her husbands. The only thought in her mind was the fact that there was a stranger in her son’s room.

He’d been crying. A singular tear fell down his face as he met her gaze.

She had screamed.

In the next instant, the strange man had jumped out the window of her son’s room. Around the same time, a woman, who looked remarkably like Thea, had emerged from the Lockhart house. She’d run straight to the strange man as Brian came out of the house screaming and making demands. The strange man had wrapped his arm around the strange woman, who was crying and hiding her face in the man’s chest. The entire town woke that morning to Claudia’s screams and Brian’s shrieks. 

The entire town was also made to witness as a red blur of a cloak came flying out of nowhere and surrounded the two before disappearing into the woods.

Tifa and Cloud had vanished in the night. The town mourned, the daughter more than the son, and life moved on. 

Until four days ago, when that same strange man reappeared bearing her son’s face.

This man was the only clue she had to the whereabouts of her son, and maybe even to Tifa. And now here they were, hoping beyond hope that there was something, anything,  that would assure them Cloud and Tifa were alright. 

Claudia let her gaze drift back down to the newspaper that she’d crumpled so many times. It was a waste of what little money they had. She knew she couldn’t afford it. And yet, this picture gave her the best picture of that man she’d seen. Sure, the screen was nice, but this was different. 

There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in her mind that this was her son.

He was older. More mature and muscled. He looked both pained and relaxed at the same time. Whatever had happened to make her boy like this, she wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and keep him close. 

She hadn’t told Brian of her surety, yet. 

If Cloud truly was this man, then that meant the woman Brian had said such cruel things to was his daughter. Claudia doubted Brian would believe her until he could see the woman properly with his own eyes. 

This city was large. Larger than the two of them. But they would find their children and not even Shinra could stop them!

She hoped.

“We should start searching,” Brian said flatly. “Someone here must know something about that man and what he and that woman did to my daughter.”

No mention of Cloud. Never a mention of Cloud. Not since the mountain. 

“Where do we even begin to look?” she asked rather than voice her thoughts. 

“We should-”

“Excuse me,” a warm, friendly, kind voice called from nearby. “But would you both happen to be Brian Lockhart and Claudia Strife?”

The man standing in front of them was dressed in a conductor uniform. He had kind, hazel eyes, and a warm disposition that accompanied his smile. He had black hair and a goatee to match. He looked to be the same age as Claudia, herself, but there was an air about him that screamed exhaustion. The poor man had probably been on his feet these last five days. 

“Yes. That would be us,” Claudia nodded quickly. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“Actually, I’m here to help you!” the man said. “We’re trying to get everyone off the streets for the event. Well, the visitors, at least. We’ve got some accommodations for you. Once you’re all settled, you’re free to search the city.”

“Oh, well that’s very nice,” Claudia breathed, relieved. 

That was one less thing to worry about, at least. With a place to return to, they’d be able to search the city more freely.

“Now if you would both follow me,” the man beckoned them further into the city.

Brian pushed past Claudia, brusquely gesturing to the man to lead the way. She hadn’t considered that her stay in Midgar would be for so long. But now that the reality was slowly setting in, she realized that meant remaining in Brian’s company until their children were found. 

In all honesty, Claudia wasn’t sure she’d survive his scorn for that long.

“By the way,” Brian spoke up, voice far kinder as he addressed their guide. “You haven’t told us your name.”

“Oh, you can just call me Reeve!” 

As Reeve led them towards a train station, Claudia momentarily turned to look back the way they’d come. To her surprise, the place they’d been standing moments ago was occupied with several people in blue suits. The sight caught Claudia off guard, and she quickly turned back around, matching her pace to the two men in front of her.

She wasn’t sure why, but those suits made every nerve in her body tense and tingle all at once.

—----------------------------------

It was quite possible Sephiroth had ordered too much tea with his new paycheck. It was also quite possible Sephiroth had drunk far too much tea in the last thirteen hours. Not that he would say as such. And it wasn’t like he had enjoyed every type of tea, either. 

Peppermint was much too strong a flavor, and he would have to find some poor soul not in Soldier to dump the tea onto. The taste of mint in general grated on the enhanced taste buds of a Soldier, and that wasn’t something Sephiroth wanted any of his men to suffer. Black tea was a gamble, he discovered. It was much nicer when soothed with milk, but it bordered on the same strong taste that coffee had. Chamomile was delightful, he decided. And Green tea had a strange flavor. Earl Grey was his preferred at the moment.

He was pleased to find Genesis agreed with him as the man sat across from him at Sephiroth’s barely used breakfast table early that morning, the two enjoying the lovely blend from the fresh pot Sephiroth had made. He was glad Angeal had been so willing to allow him to borrow his tea kettle until his own tea kettle arrived in the next few hours. 

“The fans truly are going mad!” Genesis huffed fondly as he continued to scroll through his PHS. “Your ‘perfect’ face marred by such a brute who went as far as to insult your hair has gotten the people on a riot.”

“And that riot is why Urban Development is struggling to set up a new arena,” Angeal quipped back blandly. The man stepped out of Sephiroth’s bathroom with a warm, wet rag he offered to the silver haired man. “And the reason things are stalled in the first place.”

Sephiroth took the rag and gently rubbed it over his face, taking a moment to relish the new scars that decorated his skin like a prize. He’d been so afraid they’d just up and disappear overnight. Yet he’d woken with glee to discover the lovely ragged patterns still present. 

The fans, however, had been less than pleased with the sight.

Genesis had appeared at his door ridiculously early, snapped a quick photo and posted it to the “Silver Elites” fan page before Sephiroth could get out a “good morning”. He’d invited Genesis inside after that. Angeal had come by with Zack shortly after to chew Genesis out and check on Sephiroth. And, of course, that lecture was interrupted by a call from the President, himself.

“What time is that Doctor supposed to be here?”

Sephiroth paused in scrubbing his face to peek over the rag. Angeal was standing at the window, watching the fog outside. He didn’t seem to be aware of the glare Genesis was sending him over his tea. 

“Why must you kill the mood, Angeal?” Genesis griped, setting his tea down with a huff. He turned to look at Sephiroth with mock pity. “My friend, the fates are cruel!”

Sephiroth sighed, setting down his own tea cup so he could fold up the rag. 

“This Doctor Rayleigh the President requested come attend to me will be here soon,” Sephiroth informed his friend. 

“Why are you fretting so much, Angeal?” Genesis asked. “It is just another doctor.”

It was never “just” another doctor.

Not that saying anything like that would convince Genesis and Angeal of anything. It had become increasingly clear to Sephiroth that his two friend’s relationship with the Science Department differed from his own experiences.

Angeal let out a long, put-upon sigh. “I don’t know. Perhaps I’m just paranoid. It was one thing for a random Soldier to appear out of nowhere and attack Sephiroth and beat him. It’s an entirely different thing altogether to learn that there are normal humans and robots that can defeat you. What if there are others?”

“Well, I mean, isn’t that great for Sephiroth?”

The three firsts turned to face Angeal’s protege. The young man was sprawled out on the floor, having been pouting in a sad little puddle when Angeal refused to let him have any tea. But now Zack was sitting up, ever attentive and head tilted to the side like a curious little thing. 

“And why would this be a good thing, Fair?” Genesis questioned scathingly.

“Well, like, Sephiroth’s been bored with all these fights, right? Like, sure, you and Angeal can hold your own and give him a real fight, but if I was the strongest and the best at everything and no one could beat me, I’d be real bored with all these fights. So having someone who can beat you would be pretty awesome! That means I can keep improving! And, like, who wouldn’t want to beat the people who beat Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth could only blink in surprise.

Why had he never spent time with Zack Fair before?

Here was a man who seemed to understand things about Sephiroth at just a glance. Zack had continued to surprise him at every turn in these last five days. Perhaps he was loud and outgoing and far different from the people Sephiroth was used to. And yet Zack Fair had perfectly encapsulated how Sephiroth felt in such a way that Sephiroth had been unable to explain. 

And he’d done it so simply.

The moment was ruined as Genesis scoffed.

“What an imagination you have, Fair. Who in their right mind would want to be beaten?”

Zack seemed to wilt. And to Sephiroth’s surprise, seeing Zack sad made Sephiroth feel sad, too. He’d have to figure out how to slip him some tea. Maybe that would cheer Zack up. Now how to do that without Angeal noticing?

A knock on the door served to disrupt Sephiroth’s scheming, and he felt himself instantly sit up straighter. An action that did not go unnoticed by his two friends, or by the young Soldier on the floor. 

The doctor didn’t bother to wait for Sephiroth to answer the door, instead letting herself into the room. The woman who entered was young, he supposed. Certainly older than himself, but younger than Hojo and Hollander. She wore a blue slip dress under her lab coat, and she was wheeling a cart full of medical equipment. She wasn’t looking at them, instead trying to ensure none of her equipment toppled over.

“Well that’s quite rude, don’t you think, Doctor,” Genesis chirped with a bitter bite of distaste on his tongue. “Entering someone’s home without their permission.”

The doctor’s head whipped up in surprise at the sound of Genesis’ voice, and she let out a startled gasp that was rather satisfying. It was oddly nice to hear a doctor be left so off balance. 

Still on the floor, Zack shuffled closer to Sephiroth, looking ready to spring to his feet at a moment’s notice. The action was almost protective, and it gave the doctor pause as she pretended to fix her glasses. It was clear the presence of three other Soldiers rattled her.

“Doctor Rayleigh is simply here for a routine check-up,” came the voice of Tseng from behind the woman, who startled once more. “And I am here to ensure that the check-up remains just that.”

“Of-of course!” the doctor squeaked and scurried into the room so Tseng could follow.

“Is it normal for doctors to just barge in here without your consent?” Genesis inquired, eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Yes. It is a normal occurrence. Though most of the doctors don’t bother to knock.”

Dr. Rayleigh flushed but said nothing as she began to sort through her equipment and lay it out on the dining table. Sephiroth was rather surprised to see some of the equipment left on the cart. Wasn’t this meant to be a routine check-up?

“This will be a little more than routine,” Dr. Rayleigh quickly rushed back. “We will need samples of the scar tissue to figure out why they’re not healing.”

“Of course,” Sephiroth said.

He tapped Zack twice on the shoulder, prompting the boy to stand down and allow Rayleigh to approach. Zack scuttled to the side just enough to give the woman room to work. It was quite touching.

Dr. Rayleigh made to begin, only to pause as she noted the tea sitting beside Sephiroth. She grimaced at it, picking the cup up and making to move towards the sink. An action that caused Sephiroth to wilt. She’d surely see the kettle and toss its contents as well.

But having decided he was going to keep surprising Sephiroth today, Zack plucked the cup from Dr. Rayleigh’s hands and clasped it firmly between his own. The doctor took a second to realize her hands were empty, blinking owlishly as she found the cup with Zack. Dr. Rayleigh opened her mouth as though to speak, but ultimately decided against it as she glanced towards Tseng.

Going back to her supplies, Sephiroth watched as the woman seemed to contemplate something before setting out more supplies. Genesis was already leaning forward, observing the supplies with a critical expression.

The procedure started out as it normally did. Dr. Rayleigh checked his blood pressure and his reflexes. She had him stand, checking his muscle density, height, and weight. Then she had him sit once more as she tested his vision, hearing, and a few of his other senses. All standard things he was used to.

She had him go to the bathroom to get a urine sample when Genesis spoke up.

“Is that truly necessary?” Genesis grumbled.

“Sephiroth’s natural healing ability was stunted. We need as many samples as possible to figure out why this has happened.”

“But a urine sample?” Genesis scoffed. “How often are these samples taken?”

Sephiroth chose to ignore the rest of Genesis’ griping. It was just further proof that his own procedures were different from that of his friends.

Upon returning with the sample. Dr. Rayleigh continued to collect her samples. She took a few swabs from his mouth and nose. Took a fingernail sample, and an earwax sample. When it came time for the blood, Sephiroth prepared his arm and allowed the doctor to begin. Dr. Rayleigh laid out her vial and began to fill them one by one.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Si-

She didn’t even get time to start the sixth vial before Angeal, of all people, got annoyed and decided to speak up.

“Isn’t that enough samples?” Angeal was the one to ask.

“Professor Hojo has asked me to gather what was required-”

“Which should have been two vials at most,” Tseng was the next to speak. “Enhanced or not, a lesser man would faint after this much blood was drawn. Or do you expect him to pass out during the fight so Professor Hojo can get him back in the lab?”

Dr. Rayleigh flushed red and quickly put away her samples and materials.

Then it came time for the DNA sample. 

Using a scalpel, Dr. Rayleigh carefully scraped along the bridge of his nose over his gift from Cid. She went deep, though Sephiroth expected it, going so far as to draw blood.

The second the scalpel pulled away, Sephiroth felt himself jolt, hand reaching up to his nose. The three Soldiers around him acted instantly. Zack shoved Rayleigh away from Sephiroth. Genesis was yanking rapier from his scabbard, and Angeal was quick to grab Sephiroth’s hand and pull it away from the cut.

The effects must have been visible if Angeal’s expression was anything to go by.

“It healed,” Angeal gaped in surprise, causing everyone in the room to turn towards Sephiroth in shock. 

Sephiroth knew it had healed. He could feel the tingling sensation of his skin carefully knitting itself back together.

Everyone, even Tseng, quickly moved to crowd around Sephiroth and stare at the spot on his nose that had already healed itself. After a moment of staring at something that wasn’t there, Dr. Rayleigh hesitantly reached out and ran her fingers gently along his nose, trying to feel for the incision she just made. When nothing but the old scaring stopped her finger, the Dr. released a sigh.

“It appears your greater healing ability is back to working order. Professor Hojo will be pleased to know!”

“Then why are the scars still there?” Tseng inquired.

“If-if I had to guess it would be because his body healed normally the first time around. It’s possible that-that the reason the scars are still present is because the scars have become a natural part of his features. They might heal with time now that his healing ability is back, though I-I suspect Professor Hojo will have to encourage that healing.”

Oh. That was disappointing.

He rather liked his scars.

There were only three days left, including today, and then Sephiroth would be robbed of the greatest trophies he had ever received. He would have to enjoy the next few days with his scars before the pain came to fix his imperfection.

“I would… like to keep them,” Sephiroth found himself saying.

He shut his eyes quickly after the words escaped. The words of an impudent child. Afraid of their parent taking away their favorite toy. It was a sensation Sephiroth was familiar with, well aware the only possessions he truly carried were his sword and his hair, and even those could be taken if Hojo so chose. 

Dr. Rayleigh would surely tell Professor Hojo of his foolish, childish behavior. 

“I think he should keep them!”

All attention suddenly turned to Zack.

“What? I think they look cool!” Zack waved at Sephiroth’s face. “Can you imagine getting battle scars like that? It’s every guy’s dream!”

And once again, Zack Fair surprised Sephiroth. It was amazing how Zack could just… be. How he could be in the moment and understand that what was happening was in Sephiroth’s mind without any effort.

Zack was smiling at him, a bright knowing grin as he seemed to bounce in place. Sephiroth found himself standing, meeting Zack’s gaze. 

He wasn’t aware he was practically bouncing with Zack until Angeal clamped a hand on his and Zack’s shoulder.

“Calm down. Both of you.”

Sephiroth stilled, turning his attention back to Angeal and his exasperated expression. Had he done something wrong?

“You’ll need to remove your coat again, Sephiroth,” Dr. Rayleigh butted in. “And you’ll need to sit down and lean against the table. I need to get samples of your spinal fluid.”

Dr. Rayleigh was holding a rather large syringe. The type of syringe Sephiroth hated with a passion. But it was not his job to complain. Sephiroth carefully began to remove his coat and gear so the doctor could easily reach his back and get what she needed.

Just as Sephiroth was pulling off his coat, two hands clamped onto his forearms and yanked him backwards.

“WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING!?”

And that was Genesis, standing in front of Sephiroth with Rapier drawn and pointed at the doctor, who quickly stumbled backwards in fear, dropping the syringe to the floor.

“I-I’m getting-getting samples!” she stuttered out.

“From what!?” Genesis shrieked.

It took Sephiroth a moment to realize Angeal wasn’t interfering with Genesis’s tantrum. It took another second for Sephiroth to realize the reason Angeal wasn’t interfering was because he was the one holding Sephiroth by the shoulders.

“Are you insane!?” Genesis was continuing to shriek. “You weren’t even going to numb him!?”

“Numbing agents wear off too fast,” Sephiroth chirped helpfully.

“Shut up!” Genesis hissed.

“You’re not sticking that thing in his back,” Angeal chose to speak, suddenly passing Sephiroth to Zack. “That sort of procedure needs to be done in a medical facility, and the few times I’ve had it done, I’ve been both nauseous and dizzy. What in Gaia’s name possessed you to think that was a good procedure to do now!”

“Professor Hojo said-”

“Professor Hojo was told to do a ‘regular’ check-up on Sephiroth. A normal check to determine the cause of the scarring. But he was also informed he wasn’t to have anything done that would mess with Sephiroth’s potential during the fight. As you already have your answers, Doctor, I suggest you finish this procedure post haste. The public is waiting.”

Dr. Rayleigh flinched at Tseng’s biting tone from just behind her shoulder. She didn’t bother to look at the speaker, quickly packing up her things instead. With her metaphorical tail tucked between her legs, Dr. Rayleigh fled with her cart of tools, leaving the four men alone in the room.

“I don’t understand why that woman thought she could get away with such a thing?” Genesis hissed.

“She had to be insane,” Angeal said as he helped Sephiroth put his clothes back on.

“Why would she not? It’s a typical procedure I endure every three days.”

Angeal, Genesis, Zack and Tseng all froze.

And then Genesis shrieked at him.

“What does that even mean!?”

“Getting a spinal fluid sample is part of my regular check-ups. Actually, I normally have far more done during my check-ups, as Professor Hojo wishes to be thorough. This was probably the shortest check-up I’ve ever endured.”

Sephiroth had never seen his friends look at him in such horror like they were now.

—------------------------------------

Unfortunately, the VIP booth in the Sector 3 stadium was even smaller than the Sector 2 booth, which did nothing to help the President’s ire at having lost two whole Sectors to a loss of power.  But as usual, the games were going much the way anyone expected. Sephiroth faced an opponent, and quickly dealt with them. 

To the surprise of the President and his true cronies, the interest in the fight had only escalated. Now there were more than just Soldiers facing off against Sephiroth. Troopers, robots, and everyday civilians were lining up in the arena just to get a taste of beating Sephiroth.

They were all fools, of course. No one could beat Sephiroth.

Well, except the Strangers. 

And that was the odd part. These people the Turks had dubbed “Strangers” were practically nobodies. A robot cat. A pilot and engineer. And an enhanced man with no records other than that of a child from Nibelheim bearing the same name. Veld had his men working diligently, and yet they had nothing on this strange trio. They were strangers to Shinra, strangers to this world, and strangers to each other, as far as anyone could tell. 

What was even more frustrating was that Reeve seemed to have expected these Strangers. Which, yeah, sure, Veld probably should report that. It technically meant Reeve was turning traitor to the company. 

But if Reeve Tuesti was turning traitor, then all of Gaia was doomed. There was no hope of anything.

Reno’s “inside man” in Costa Del Sol had better be legit. Veld would much rather enjoy the last days of his life in peace, thank you very little.

As Veld lamented his potential vacation once this mess was all over, the door to the booth opened, and Veld immediately clocked his star pupil. It was such a shame Tseng would never live up to his full potential as the one in charge of everything. Veld had such high hopes for the kid.

“Sir,” Tseng motioned Veld further back into the room.

Bad news, then.  

“We lost them in Sector 6,” Tseng informed him, handing over a tablet. 

The pictures were uncanny. Swiping through the tablet, Veld found that each picture of the woman was more and more alarming. From her shock of blonde hair, to her facial structure, there was no doubt in Veld’s mind that this woman was related to Cloud Strife from the first day. 

“What do we know about her?” Veld inquired as he flipped over to what documents Tseng had been able to find.

A couple birth certificates. One being the child’s birth certificate for Cloud Strife they had found earlier. Medical records, bare-bones due to being in a backwater village. Information on her profession, her marital status. None of it relevant to their search.

“Claudia of Nibelheim, sir. She was traveling with a man named Brian Lockhart. From what we understand, they were searching for their lost children.”

Claudia looked far too young to be Cloud Strife’s mother. A cover, perhaps? No, that didn’t feel right. Veld would need to sleep on this one.  

“Pardon me, gentleman, but might I interject for a minute?”

That overly cheery tone. The faux amusement. It made Veld’s skin crawl. Especially now that he knew the end was nigh.

“Of course, Reeve,” Veld turned to the kid he’d watched grow up. “What do you need?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that Professor Hojo arrived late, and that he seems to be in quite the foul mood. I assume he didn’t get what he wanted?”

Tseng shook his head. 

“Dr. Rayleigh is dead.”

Reeve nodded, titling his head like a curious cat. “I imagine that’s what he wishes you to believe.”

Why did this man suddenly have to be so ominous? Veld already knew the end times were here! This wasn’t helping!

Before the conversation could continue further, a sudden startled hush seemed to fall over the crowd outside, and the onlookers inside the room. Reeve’s attention quickly turned to the crowd, peering over Heiddeger’s head to see what had gotten everyone so stunned.

“EVERYBODY GRAB A DRINK, CAUSE THIS GIRL CAN’T SERVE EM TODAY! LET’S WELCOME THE ONE AND ONLY LIGHT OF MY LIFE! MISS TIFAAAA! LOCKHART! BARMAID EXTRAORDINAIRE! GIVE THE LOVELY LADY A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!”

And to Veld’s horror, Reeve smiled. Cruel and sinister like an amused cat.

“Ah. There she is. Excuse me, miss, I’d like to make a bet.”

Veld wasn’t even sure it would be worth it to rally the Turks at this point. At this point, it was a lost cause. And when you couldn’t beat them…

“Tseng,” Veld said, digging around in his pocket for his wallet. “Go put a bet on whatever Reeve is betting on in my name. I want that vacation money.”

“Of… course… sir…”

—----------------------------

The announcement had been distasteful, to say the least. Sephiroth could practically hear the men drooling over this woman. But the woman walking towards him walked with the grace and confidence of a woman used to being cat-called and ignoring it. 

She was an average sized woman, in height, at least. Sephiroth could see what assets had clearly drawn the announcer's attention, but that wasn’t something he felt like gauging. He supposed she met the beauty standard, with her bright ruby red eyes, and long brunette hair, but Sephiroth found himself uncaring for her looks. 

Tifa was dressed in black. A pair of black leather shorts with a black leather cape skirt, where the back nearly brushed the stadium ground. A black leather vest over a white tank top. A pair of black sneakers.

This wasn’t the type of opponent he was used to. 

Yes, there had been other women opponents. Some in Soldier. Some in the troopers who had taken to trying their hands. But a female civilian? This was different. Sephiroth half expected the woman to start freaking out and trying to grab onto him or something. He was surprised none of his fans had thought to do as such yet.

She continued to stride forward until she was just a short distance away from Sephiroth, looking him in the eye with a fierce determination. It made Sephiroth rather uncomfortable, like he was being judged for some sort of crime.

“Tifa Lockhart, correct? You are… a bartender?”

Miss Lockhart seemed to tilt her head, giving Sephiroth a once over. Whatever she was searching for, she appeared not to find it.

“That would be me!” Miss Lockhart gave him a fond smile. “I’ll be your opponent today.”

There was a red ribbon around her arm. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but the red ribbon appearing a fourth time? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Still, this woman was…

“You are unarmed.”

“Yep,” Miss Lockhart laughed as she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a pair of leather gloves that she easily slid over her hands. “Weapons aren’t really my thing.”

She gave the glove on her left arm an extra little tug, and wiggled her fingers around. The action was that of a playful threat, but Sephiroth found himself growing wary the longer she stood before him. Even with the ribbon on her arm, perhaps his theory was incorrect. He would cut this woman down in a second if he used Masamune.

“Miss Lockhart, if you insist on hand to hand, then allow me to do the same.”

Tifa Lockhart was already taking several steps backwards, seemingly trying to find the perfect place to start. There was an excited little smile on her face as she seemed to find a spot that was just right. 

“Actually, I’d prefer you use your sword for this fight. While I’m sure you’re trying to be kind and considerate with your offer, it would be rather insulting for you to be at only half your game.”

Sephiroth’s brow pinched as he gave her a once over. There really didn’t seem to be much to her.

“But this seems to put you at a disadvantage. I assure you I am well trained in hand to hand combat. You will not be disappointed.”

This did not deter Miss Lockhart in the slightest. She gave him a calm, knowing smile as she went through a series of quick stretches.

“How about a deal? If at any point after the next five minutes, you think I can’t handle myself, you can switch to hand to hand combat. If I can handle myself, you honor my request that you keep using your sword.”

It didn’t feel right to accept such a deal. Very few had lasted longer than two minutes. For Miss Lockhart to want five minutes of being subject to Masamune? That was a bet she would lose. There was nothing remarkable about Miss Lockhart that he could see. But his eyes kept drifting to the red ribbon on her arm. Of the promise that could bring. 

Perhaps it was worth the bet.

“Very well, I accept,” Sephiroth agreed as he took a stance, raising Masamune so that it was level with his head, prepared to strike at a moment’s notice. “Shall we begin?”

The young woman fell into a stance of her own, spreading her legs into a position similar to that of boxers, and raising her fists much the same way. It was clearly a well practiced beginning position. Sephiroth half expected her to strike first, but it was clear this woman understood patience. And her calm little smile was quite the invitation.

Sephiroth lunged.

All he needed to do was deliver one strike. One simple strike and Miss Lockhart would be down. He would make sure the wound was light. Just a whack with the flat of his blade. He poised Masamune to attack and send the woman flying.

He wasn’t expecting Miss Lockhart to duck under his blade.

A foolish move. Sephiroth could simply twirl Masamune back around to meet her as she stood back up. He did so. Preparing once more to strike her with the flat of his blade. She was quick, he would give her that. But Sephiroth was nothing if not prepared to adjust to faster opponents. 

That was not what happened.

Miss Lockhart spun herself around mid-crouch and caught his blade against her heel. What followed, all seemingly in slow motion, was that Miss Lockhart kicked off the ground, doing a flip and pinning Masamune to the ground under her heel. In the next second, to Sephiroth’s stunned shock, Miss Lockhart was bringing her other leg up and over in an impressive arc and control of movement. 

His face stung.

He also wasn’t looking at Miss Lockhart anymore.

“SWEET GAIA! THOSE WERE SOME MOVES! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

Had she just… kicked him in the face?

“TIFA LOCKHART EVERYONE! THE WOMAN WHO KICKED SEPHIROTH!”

She had kicked him in the face!

Sephiroth turned his face back around in time to see her hop off his sword with a grin, planting her hands on her hips.

“Not bad for a girl, huh?”

Sephiroth’s hand went up to his cheek where the stinging was coming from. To his surprise, the action caused him further pain, even as he felt the wound healing as it should.

“You are unenhanced,” he responded dumbly.

Tifa grinned tilting her head with a fond smile. “Yep! Just hard work and dedication!”

It was the ribbon. It had to be! Not that Sephiroth would dare tell anyone about his little discovery. The ribbon was just discreet enough that no one else would notice. Probably just how this strange band liked it. But there couldn’t be any coincidences in Sephiroth’s mind. This was real. This ribbon was the symbol Reeve left for him to identify his most worthy opponents.

“First Cloud Strife, then Cait Sith, then Cid, and now you, Miss Lockart. Will wonders ever cease?”

“Tifa,” she corrected. “If we’re gonna fight, we might as well be on a first name basis, you know?”

That was fine by Sephiroth. Not that he had a last name to provide.

“Tifa, then,” Sephiroth agreed. 

Then he moved. Jerking to the left and swinging Masamune upwards. Tifa was quick to move with the blade, avoiding the strike. She didn’t bother using the same trick twice, instead, sliding across the ground and getting in close proximity to Sephiroth. When she was just inches from Sephiroth she pulled herself into a crouch and spun upwards, once more diving into a flip, arching her body backwards. Her foot connected with his chin, sending him flying backwards a few feet as his head was snapped upwards.

This time she didn’t give him a chance to breathe.

His feet barely had time to touch ground before he was throwing his head away from her fist. Strike after strike, Sephiroth was forced to dodge. The close proximity made it difficult to raise Masamune without the risk of hurting her, and she wasn’t letting up on her attacks. Something told Sephiroth that waiting for her to tire out wouldn’t do him any favors. As each strike of her fist got closer and closer to connecting, Sephiroth knew he needed to act. 

But he didn’t wish to hurt her.

Once more using the flat of his blade, Sephiroth flipped the blade in his hand and brought his hand to his chest before arching Masamune upwards. Thankfully, Tifa caught onto his plan immediately and threw herself backwards. Had Sephiroth actually meant to harm her, he had no doubt the scar that particular strike would have left would have been deadly.

Which was perhaps why it was so odd that Tifa managed to time the action of gracefully arching backwards so perfectly.

Masamune’s blade sang just centimeters away from connecting with Tifa’s skin, not even bothering to graze her shirt. Sephiroth found himself startled by the sheer power by which Tifa flipped away, tucking into a roll, and then skidding across the stadium floor with such ease.

It was exhilarating. 

Sephiroth could tell Tifa was testing the waters just as much as Sephiroth was. If these couple seconds were so thrilling, what must a real match against Tifa be like? 

He had to know. He needed to find out.

“You asked for five minutes,” Sephiroth declared, standing up straight as Tifa did the same. “But you have proven your point in mere seconds. I’m impressed.”

Tifa didn’t respond. Though her smile was kind, it was also inviting. Prompting him to strike again. She didn’t bother to get into a stance this time, just waited. It was a challenge all its own. One Sephiroth was eager to oblige.

Once more, he lunged.

He had been testing her before, putting just enough effort into his strikes so as not to harm her, but still put on the show required of him. Now he allowed himself a little more than the bare-minimum. 

Tifa was quick to match his strikes. 

Rather than do slow, deliberate strikes, Sephiroth went for quick, frenzied swipes. To his pleasure, Tifa was swift at dodging, blocking, or deflecting his attacks. The way she moved, it was clear she had been well trained. 

Sephiroth couldn’t say he recognized her fighting style. Which was odd. He’d trained in as many forms of combat as Hojo could find for him to train in. It appeared to be a combination of skills with a few added twists here and there. It allowed her to match each strike of his sword with her bare palm or the bottom of her shoe. 

And it gave her the power to plow past his attacks and deliver a swift kick to his side that sent him flying to the right.

It was exhilarating.

As he planted his feet, Sephiroth took a pause in their fight, pleased to see Tifa did the same.

“Tell me, Tifa. This style of yours. I’ve never seen it before. Does it have a name?”

There was a flash of surprise on Tifa’s face, before she began to smile. Something warm and fond about Tifa’s taking over her expression as she gave a slight bow. Like honoring a memory.

“My master called it Zangan style,” Tifa informed him. “He spent his entire life learning different techniques in order to find the best way to train the body. I’ve studied his teaching diligently since I was a teenager, though I’ll admit, I put my own spin on his teachings here and there. I doubt he meant for his teachings to lead me here.”

She didn’t seem to regret being here, though. Something that made Sephiroth feel warm. Even if her master might have disapproved, she’d come to show him he could be beaten. 

“Then I suppose you wish to prove to your master how far you’ve come. Shall we continue our show?”

“Gladly!”

This time, they lunged at the same time.

—-------------------------------------

After the fourth disgusting comment Hojo had made about the woman in the arena, Veld would admit he had tuned out the world around him. The fight itself was rather interesting. An unenhanced woman fighting Sephiroth with nothing but her shoes and a pair of gloves? She was an ideal Turk candidate for sure. 

He could just do without the commentary.

It probably couldn’t hurt to tune back in-

“How lovely. Her form. Her posture. The way she moves. She would be absolutely perfect to carry Sephiroth’s child!”

Nope. That was a mistake. A very big mistake. 

He just needed to escape into his thoughts again. Get that disgusting visual out of his mind. He was on a beach. Relaxing in Costa del Sol. Sipping a nice martini as the world burned around him. He would gladly offer Reeve a toast for finally snapping and ending the world right then and there. Veld was close to doing so himself if Hojo didn’t shut up.

Speaking of the bringer of the apocalypse, Reeve hadn’t stepped away from the window. Tseng was still at his side, watching the fight beside his best friend. Veld tilted his head to get a better look at the two. 

There was a sort of tension to the two of them, one that had convinced Tseng to start talking, by the looks of it. Which was odd. Veld was well aware that whenever Tseng and Reeve were in the same room, that Reeve was normally the one to do the talking to get Tseng to calm down and ground himself. It was odd to see how the tables suddenly seemed to have turned. 

Distantly, Veld was aware that Hojo was saying something else disgusting and creepy.

And that comment was suddenly followed by Reeve’s coffee mug shattering in his hand.

Other than Hojo’s grotesque cooing, the booth became deathly quiet as all eyes turned to Reeve. Even the president looked surprised by the sudden noise and the person said action came from.

“My apologies,” Reeve gave a very fake, very flat, business-like smile. “The stress of it all has been getting to me. If you don’t mind, Mr. President, I’d like to get another mug.”

The President gave his permission absently, turning back to the stadium to continue to watch the fight. Not that anyone in the booth could enjoy the experience with Hojo’s rambling. Reeve was quick to leave the booth, probably intending to take his sweet time as he went. Lucky kid. Still, Veld watched Reeve’s back until he left, Tseng trailing at Reeve’s side.

The moment proved something Veld had been wondering.

Reeve knew these people. Cloud Strife. Cait Sith. Captain Cid Highwind. And now Tifa Lockhart. He clearly cared about them, as well, if the mug crushing was anything to go by. But what Veld couldn’t figure out was how they all knew each other, or how Reeve knew them.

This mystery was becoming more and more frustrating.

Oh well. Veld supposed it wouldn’t be his problem for much longer. The world wouldn’t last much longer, anyways.

Veld turned back to the fight. This Tifa Lockhart truly was a skilled individual. Veld had never seen someone fight the way she did. If he had to guess, she was merging several different fighting styles. There was some martial arts in there, mixed with a form of boxing, and a few other brands of fighting Veld could vaguely place. And yet she appeared to be adding her own, unique spin to the style while merging them together. Or perhaps she had a master who preferred this strange style. There was a grace and beauty behind her kicks, like that of a dolphin. But it was clear that with each punch she managed to land that she had the strength of a soldier. 

Veld would have to look further into it, assuming the world didn’t end tomorrow.

There were only two days left, after all. What was the worst that could happen?

Again, Hojo made some vile disgusting comment about Tifa Lockhart that Veld was actively choosing to tune out. Honestly, Veld wished Ms. Lockhart would just wrap up the fight and relieve them all of their suffering. 

“Will you stop your obsessive squawking?!” 

Hojo suddenly went silent as Scarlet violently shut his laptop, cutting off his data feed and recordings. He was glaring at Scarlet, now, but at least his commentary had stopped. 

Reeve and Tseng re-entered the booth at this time, pausing in the doorway to observe the interaction. However, Reeve seemed to decide the events did not require his full attention, and he made his way over to the window, Tseng still trailing beside him. 

It was almost funny to see Tseng fretting so much.

“Well, as it just so happens, I do still have work to do. As someone has cut off my ability to work on my best subject, I must-”

“Hojo,” the President’s voice washed over them, causing everyone to hush. “If you cannot keep your comments to yourself, then you will no longer be allowed to observe, either.”

Hojo gave a little “hmph” and sat back in his seat. He made to grab at his laptop but Scarlet slid it away from his grabby hands. The sharp glare on her face threatened the corruption of said save file if Hojo dared go against the president’s order. 

Just when Veld was sure he’d be witnessing a different sort of fight, the audience outside gave a collectively sharp gasp. This was followed by the President, Heidegger, Palmer, Lazard and Rufus all shooting to their feet.

Glancing at Reeve, well, Veld had never seen Reeve so relaxed before. 

Just what had happened?

Glancing into the arena, Veld quickly assessed the situation. Sephiroth was a fair distance away from Ms. Lockhart, and from the look of it, his hand was shaking from where he was holding Masamune in a vice. The man was on the ground, seeming to breathe heavily. 

No. Not heavily breathing. Sephiroth was wheezing. 

And Ms. Lockhart was…

Well, she looked… kind of distraught.

—-----------------------------

The fight had been going so well. With each strike one managed to land, the pair would quickly pick up speed and strength. Together, they worked a perfect dance of revealing their true strength, putting on a show worthy of even Genesis’ high standards.

Though Sephiroth was sure Genesis would be jealous of the woman.

Sephiroth was thrilled with the way the fight was going. Both sides had gotten in strikes, much like he had with his fight against Cloud Strife. Sephiroth had to admit his favorite part was when Tifa managed to grab his sword arm and suplex him. 

He hoped this day never ended.

But then there was a shift in Tifa’s demeanor. 

He wasn’t sure what caused the shift. One moment, they were both smiling, and Sephiroth even allowed himself the chance to laugh. The next moment, something in Tifa’s body seemed to straighten. Not so much tense. Sephiroth wasn’t really sure how to describe the shift, but the best word he could come up with was “serious”. While Sephiroth was growing closer to using his full strength and speed, he assumed Tifa was growing close to doing the same.

He was proven wrong. 

She crouched down below his blade, repositioned her feet, and sprang forward and past his defenses. Sephiroth felt like he, himself, was moving in slow motion while Tifa seemed to be moving at a basic walking speed. He only had a couple seconds to panic as he realized he couldn’t keep up before Tifa’s fist landed squarely into his chest.

Sephiroth wasn’t sure what happened, but one second, he was being punched, and the next he was rolling a fair distance across the field. It took him a second too long to scramble to his feet and stop his tumble. 

He was… a good fifteen feet away from Tifa, perhaps further. 

And why was it so hard to breathe?

He quickly attempted to inhale, only to find that it felt like his chest was caving in on him. Instinctively, he reached up to claw at his chest, hoping to remove whatever was clogging his airway. But that hurt. There was actual, physical pain blooming in the area where her fist connected with his chest. It was so different from the feeling of Tsurugi cutting through his skin, or that of Cait Sith’s claws tearing him apart. There was even a different sort of distinctive feeling that accompanied the blunt feeling of Cid’s spear hitting him upside the head over and over again. 

Even as Sephiroth could feel the injury healing itself, and his ability to breathe returning, he found himself at a loss of air in his awe. 

Tifa Lockhart had struck him. Had hurt. With her bare hands.

Could she do it again?

Sephiroth tightened his grip on Masamune and lifted his head. It was still difficult to breathe, but that was alright. He’d relish the sensation while it lasted, and he was well used to fighting through the pain of any injury. 

But looking at Tifa, he found the girl had dropped her stance and was staring at him in horror, hands covering her mouth as she stood frozen those many feet away. She appeared to be rather mortified.

Sephiroth felt his heart drop for a second, but then Tifa was moving towards him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she was saying as she approached at a brisk pace. “I did not mean to hit that hard. Are you alright? Nothing’s broken, is it?”

Even if it was, he was already starting to heal, so what did it matter?

No. It didn’t matter. But Sephiroth found himself gripped by a rage he didn’t understand. 

Sephiroth forced himself to stand, well aware he was still wheezing just slightly, fixing a glare on Tifa. That was what Genesis did when he was upset with someone, right?

“You were holding back?”

“I-. Yes. You were holding back, too.”

“I don’t want us to hold back,” and Sephiroth was glad the wheeze in his voice was going away, now. He had to prove to Tifa that he could handle a genuine fight with her. “Have we not proven we can match each other’s strength and skill. I would implore you to give this fight your all. Please.”

People were supposed to say please when they wanted something, right? Sephiroth wasn’t sure. He hoped he wasn’t being too cruel or rude. He simply wanted her to understand his true desire. To enjoy this fight to its full extent.

Tifa paused, tilting her head in a curious little fashion as she looked him over. It was as if she was seeing through his soul, trying to find the answer to a question he couldn’t comprehend. It made him anxious, and he found himself awkwardly shifting onto one foot. 

“Okay,” Tifa agreed, voice firm. “We’ll go out. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Absolutely.”

He couldn’t afford to hesitate. Tifa had to understand his sincerity in this matter. There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to go all out in a fight with Tifa. Just as he had done with Cloud Strife. 

“Alright,” Tifa slowly pulled back into the same stance she had started with. “Then… on your mark!”

Quickly getting into a position of his own, Sephiroth raised Masamune. He took one final breath to ensure he had properly healed. And then, with all his strength and speed, he lunged one final time. 

The strike should have been quick and simple. Enough to render Tifa flat on her back a fair distance away had it actually connected. But as Sephiroth giddily expected, Tifa would not be claimed so easily. She first ducked to the left, before springing upwards and flipping herself upside down, curving over Masamune’s blade. Just as she began to descend, she grabbed onto Sephiroth’s arm with both hands, twirling herself around his arm and getting a leg up and onto his shoulders. Sephiroth was quick to reach up and grab her, pulling her off his back before she could trap him in a choke hold, and preparing to launch her across the field. He spun them both in a circle once before throwing her. 

To his satisfaction, she landed against the shield, causing it to pulse once with the impact. She caught herself differently than Cloud did, One leg out and the other to brace the full impact, before using the stretched leg as her springboard. And in the next breath, she was pushing off the wall and lunging at him. 

It should have been a full force frontal attack. One Sephiroth could have easily deflected. And he intended to do so, charging forward to meet Tifa Lockhart head on. 

Sephiroth was a fool to ever think anyone in this group would be that easy.

In mid air, Tifa adjusted her own stance, curling up just enough that she could land, light footed, on Masamune’s blade. As Sephiroth attempted to shake her off, she used his movements to launch herself upwards, flipping gracefully like a dolphin, before arching back downwards in a spiral.

Sephiroth moved to deflect, but had to crane his head upwards to see where Tifa was descending from. And by then, it was too late.

He heard the crunch before he felt her boot him square in the face. 

It was followed by a pain so intense that Sephiroth staggered, allowing Tifa to jump off his face and land gracefully a couple feet away. Not that Sephiorth saw any of that. The pain… the pain was so intense. So breathtaking. 

And then he was slumping into a heap on the arena floor, unconscious.

—----------------------------------------

Impressive.

That felt like an understatement compared to the show Tseng was just witness to. 

Like the others before her, Tifa Lockhart had proven to be a force to be reckoned with. An unarmed, unenhanced woman had just sauntered into the arena and beaten Sephiroth with nothing but her bare hands and feet. Even if the gloves were specifically tailored to enhance her strength, as Tseng suspected, the performance she put on would be one for the history books. 

Tseng risked a glance away from the arena to look at Reeve, only to freeze.

Reeve was covering his mouth with his hand, making it hard for anyone to see his expression at a glance. There was a slight pinch to Reeve’s expression that some might have mistaken as discomfort. Maybe even distaste. Tseng liked to think he knew Reeve better than surface expressions. Even with the hand covering his mouth and Reeve’s excellent practice in proving he could school his facial features, Tseng could see what Reeve truly felt.

Reeve was beaming with pride.

Behind them, everyone else was scrambling, hoping to capture Tifa Lockhart for their own purposes and goals. But Reeve wasn’t the slightest bit nervous about the going ons behind them. Which meant there was a plan.

Down below, Tifa was already making her way towards the exit. 

“She isn’t going to make this easy.” Tseng said.

Reeve chuckled, finally dropping his hand from his face. “No. She won’t. And that will be her greatest asset.”

She would be underestimated, Reeve meant. Which was true. Despite her clear display of skill here, the people sent to follow her would be fools. Perhaps Reno and Rude would be able to match her skill, but Reeve seemed too confident in her ability for Tseng to trust that conclusion.

Tifa Lockhart was standing at the exit, hand resting on the barrier that had yet to drop. Tseng knew there were several Soldiers and troopers on their way to intercept Ms. Lockhart at the entrance. He also knew they weren’t there yet because Heidegger hadn’t believed Ms. Lockhart would actually win. 

Ms. Lockhart raised a fist back and let it fly forward towards the barrier.

As her fist connected, the barrier shimmered once. Tseng found his eyes widening in horror as the image of the barrier became visible to the naked eye. This was only for a couple seconds, but it was enough time for Tseng to register their fatal flaw. 

Sometime during the fight between the pair, the barrier had weakened. Tseng could guess the moment it happened, perhaps a planned maneuver, to when Sephiroth launched Ms. Lockhart at the barrier at full speed and she hit the barrier with her full weight and momentum. 

And in the next blink, the barrier shattered.

“Tseng,” Veld’s voice held all the order Tseng needed to hear.

But Reeve held the blackmail, as Veld knew, and Tseng titled his head subtly towards Reeve. Reeve, however, gave him a smile. 

“Have a nice chase,” Reeve approved, much to Tseng’s dread. “Oh, and thank you, Tseng. For returning the favor.”

Tseng inclined his head to Reeve and moved to follow Veld’s orders. He really wasn’t looking forward to the property damage that was going to happen this time. 

—-------------------------

Angeal’s heart was pounding as he raced onto the field, not letting anyone stop him from getting to Sephiroth’s side. Three knock outs in three days. Cloud Strife had been somewhat kinder, keeping Sephiroth conscious in his fight. But, then again, Cloud Strife had kept Sephiroth conscious as if to prove Sephiroth’s life lay in his hands. But still, at least Cloud Strife’s actions weren’t buffeted by Sephiroth’s faulty healing ability.

Angeal dropped to one knee, sliding to a stop beside Sephiroth as his friend slowly began to sit up. He was quick to steady Sephiroth, preventing him from standing up, as Sephiroth gripped his face.

The action was more confused than painful, so Angeal let himself relax just a bit. But then Sephiroth was turning to him. Nose bleeding and crooked, and eyes so wide and awed that Angeal tensed all over again.

“Is this what affection feels like?” Sephiroth asked through the blood pouring into his mouth.

It was a good thing Angeal’s mother insisted he carry a handkerchief everywhere, Angeal thought absently as he put the cloth just under Sephiroth’s nose. Yeah, that was definitely broken. Tifa Lockhart certainly hadn’t held back her punches. 

And then Sephiroth’s question registered in his mind.

“I think you’re experiencing a cracked skull,” Angeal informed his friend dryly. “You might have a concussion.”

Angeal had never seen Sephiroth show interest in anyone. Ever. And now some girl came along, beat Sephiroth up, and his friend suddenly had a crush?

That was something he preferred not to think about.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Sephiroth’s head at this moment. He was clearly still dazed, and perhaps a little pale from the pain. But the color was coming back, and Sephiroth was beginning to focus on his surroundings again.

Wait. His nose.

It was definitely broken. Even without the scar further marring his face, it was painfully clear Sephiroth’s nose wasn’t where it should be. Without someone to reset Sephiroth’s nose, it would heal crooked, which meant it would need to be rebroken. Given his still strange healing ability, Angeal had a feeling that rebreaking the nose would be a problem. And with science barred from touching Sephiroth, there was bound to be a painful healing process when the seventh day was finally over. 

Something about the last couple days told Angeal that if Sephiroth walked into science with a broken nose, there would be problems. 

It was the only logical explanation Angeal could come up with later to explain why his next instinct was to reach forward, grab Sephiroth’s nose through the handkerchief, and yank the part back into place.

Sephiroth let out a groan, but allowed the action to happen. 

Though, when Angeal pulled his hand away, he had to wince.

“Did you fix it?” Sephiroth asked, something bitter and put-out in his tone.

“...yes?” Angeal choked out his reply.

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth as though to speak, only to pitch forward violently as the entire ground seemed to shake a tremble as though taken over by a giant Earthquake, and the sound of something screeching filled the air.

Sephiroth and Angeal whipped around at the sound, trying to find the source only to gape in horror as something large began to disappear.

“Was that Ifrit?’

—----------------------------

Angeal and Genesis were moving as soon as Sephiroth was declared down by the announcers. Zack barely got a glimpse of Tifa Lockhart busting through the barrier before he was chasing after the pair. Only for the two to break off from each other.

“Zack!” Angeal called over the pounding feet of soldiers and troopers heading towards the entrance. “Follow Genesis!”

Welp! If that was what Angeal wanted, Zack would comply!

He raced after Genesis, confused as to why the other was running towards the exit while every other force was running towards the stadium entrance. Listen, Zack wasn’t dumb. He knew Genesis was obsessed with being better than Sephiroth. And if Genesis could beat one of the people who beat Sephiroth, well, that would definitely move him up the chain of command. 

So why was Genesis running away from the fight?

The streets were practically empty as they made it outside the stadium. Which meant it wasn’t hard for Zack to quickly pinpoint the lone figure sliding into a truck and slamming the door shut. She got the car started before she turned to look at the two of them, giving them a little wave and a smile, before Tifa Lockhart peeled out of her parking spot and raced away.

“I knew it,” Genesis laughed giddily. “Hurry, Fair! We must give chase!”

Genesis didn’t give Zack much of a chance to process what was happening. He just grabbed Zack by the arm and dragged him away. The next thing Zack knew, they had commandeered a Shinra issued vehicle, and Zack was the one driving as they chased Tifa through the streets.

 They’d already made it through Sectors 4 and 5 and were entering Sector 6 when the Turk helicopter flew overhead. Genesis was quick to note the helicopter, and a sinister little grin spread on his face.

“Oh no you don’t, darlings,” Genesis practically purred, lifting his materia bracer. “This one is mine.”

Now. Again. Zack Fair was not an idiot. He could be impulsive at times, yes. And that impulsiveness tended to land him in sticky situations. But Zack Fair was not an idiot. And sometimes his impulsiveness came in handy.

Like now, as he slammed his foot on the brake as Genesis leaned out the window and summoned Ifrit.

The fiery summons appeared just in front of Tifa’s truck, causing her to quickly swerve or risk being burned to death. Even the helicopter had to bank right to avoid getting destroyed. Only, rather than curve inward and to the right towards the Shinra building, Tifa chose to go left. Zack could feel the scream of horror that punched out of him as Tifa drove off a man-made cliff.

He didn’t bother putting the car in park as he bolted out of the driver's seat and raced to the edge of Sector 6. The thing about Sector 6 was that back during construction, one of the support beams had become unstable and collapsed. The President had never cared to fix the damage. Only the innermost layer of the giant Midgar pizza slice called Sector 6 still existed. 

The rest was a straight drop!

“THE GOAL WAS TO CATCH HER! NOT KILL HER!” Zack found himself shrieking at Genesis as the man followed at a brisk pace. 

“Well how was I supposed to know she would jump off a cliff?” Genesis huffed.

“By not forcing her to choose between Shinra and a cliff!”

Zack had finally made it to the edge of the cliff, Ifrit hovering just behind him, clearly unsure of what to do. It was a testament to Genesis’ own mood at the sudden turn in the situation. Zack could practically hear his heart beating in his chest as he looked over the edge of Sector 6 and into the rubble of the slums.

“Oh no…” Zack breathed, feeling his heart drop.

The truck had already hit a piece of concrete. Still slightly elevated off the ground, but definitely not doing Tifa any favors. Not to mention, the truck had done a nose dive and the entire front end was crushed into said concrete. There was no way anyone could survive that, could they?

Genesis approached Zack’s side, staring down into the slums below. Zack didn’t dare look at Genesis, afraid he’d punch the man if he saw his expression. 

This entire thing was insane. 

How could anyone just drive someone to their death like this?

THWIP

Wait. What was-?

Lifting his head, Zack quickly looked around for the source of the sound. It took a bit of looking, and he had to lean forward just a bit, but he found it. Found her.

He let out a startled gasp as he caught sight of Tifa Lockhart descending just a few feet away. She was using some sort of grappling hook to lower herself further down the edge using the remaining debris.

But she was alive!

Zack let out a happy, startled laugh as Tifa continued her descent down the rubble of Sector 6. He felt his body sag just a little in sheer relief as he sat back and turned his head to the sky. 

Good. He was glad she was alright. Sephiroth seemed real fond of her like he was fond of those other three. He was sure Sephiroth would be upset if one of them died. Honestly, Zack kinda wanted to meet the rest of them in person, too. They just seemed so cool and-

“Well well well,” Genesis cooed. “Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess. Catch her, Ifrit. Show her what it means to burn with my desire.”

Zack’s eyes snapped open in horror, just in time to see Ifrit jump over the edge. He didn’t bother to turn and watch whatever chaos was about to unfold, instead whipping his head around to look at Genesis. 

The man looked near sinister, grinning wickedly as his hand hovered in front of him, condemning Tifa to a fight that could kill her and nearly did. The crash alone was a death sentence, but the cause was a summons. Could Tifa even take a summons? 

“What the heck…” Zack whispered, slowly pushing to his feet, “IS YOUR PROBLEM!”

The last half was screamed to the heavens as Zack’s fist sailed forward, catching Genesis square in the jaw and launching the man a fair distance away. Zack didn’t bother with the repercussions. Tifa was alone, on unstable ground, and about to face Ifrit alone. 

Fighting Sephiroth was one thing. At least Sephiroth had control. At least Sephiroth wasn’t actively looking to kill someone. Zack had no idea what was going through Genesis’ head, but none of this was safe or sane!

Zack had a very small window of opportunity to catch up and get to her aid. 

So he jumped right off the broken edge of Sector 6. 

Thankfully, he timed that jump just right and he managed to grab onto the helicopter skids as the Turks flew overhead. The added momentum caused the helicopter to tip at first, but the Turks were pretty skilled at this sort of thing so Zack wasn’t worried. 

He had to find Tifa!

Spinning around, Zack looked below, trying to scope out where Tifa had gone. Only to realize Ifrit had already found her. The summon was shooting fire at her left and right and Tifa was, so far, successfully dodging the attempts. But they were getting closer and closer to the inner plate, and Tifa seemed to be making a bee-line for Sector 7. 

A particularly well aimed blast of fire had Tifa ducking further inward and closer to Sector 7. Only, rather than keep running forward, Tifa suddenly stopped, seeming to stare at something Zack couldn’t see.

Above Zack, the door to the helicopter opened, revealing an annoyed Reno. He quickly reached down towards Zack, grabbing onto his arms and yanking him up.

“Get in!” Reno quipped angrily. 

Zack didn’t need to be told twice as he scrambled inside, quickly making for the front so he could continue to watch the chaos unfold. Ifrit was gearing up for another attack. And to Zack’s horror, Tifa was clearly choosing to stand her ground. 

Rude, who was piloting the helicopter, sucked in sharply.

“If that attack launches, it will hit the support pillar at the edge of Sector 7,” Rude rushed out. 

“What!?”

“Shoot! We have to knock that thing down!”

Zack could only stare in horror as the situation went from bad to worse with just a few simple words. Not only was Tifa about to go up in a fiery blaze of glory, there wasn’t anywhere near enough time to send out a distress signal to Sector 7, let alone to evacuate that entire sector. 

He was utterly helpless and useless all at once.

There had to be something he could do! But what?! What!?

Tifa suddenly took some sort of weird pose, standing straight up with her feet together, and bringing her fist in front of her face with her head bowed. There was almost some sort of weird glow to her fists. Almost like…

“Move! Now!” Reno barked at Rude, coming to the same conclusion Zack had. 

Rude didn’t need to be told twice, quickly banking away just as Tifa managed to launch herself at the same time Ifrit began to release his flames. Despite the fact they were moving away, Zack managed to see the events unfold as they happened.

He watched as Tifa lunged off the ground, seeming to fly forward like a comet or a shooting star! She sailed through Ifrit’s flames and straight towards the summons, rearing her fist backward and slamming it straight into Ifrit’s chest, following that up with a second strike that was just as fast, if not faster, than the first. Time seemed to still for just a moment before the shockwave of the strikes sent a ripple outwards, causing the helicopter to be blown around wildly, and for all of Midgar to shake like it was taken by an earthquake. 

Ifrit released a wail of pain as it went flying through the air at the strength of Tifa’s limit break. Zack was aware the summons had hit something , but it took both Reno and Rude to get the helicopter back under control, and by that point, the summons was already fading away; defeated. 

By the time they managed to right the helicopter, the damage had already been done. 

Ifrit had landed partially on top of Reactor 6 just before it disappeared. 

Another Reactor was completely and utterly destroyed.

“Well, boss ain’t gonna be happy about that,” Reno grumbled, rubbing at his head.

And then they were interrupted by a giant WHAM from somewhere below.

—---------------------------------

Genesis was fairly certain he’d just made a rather terrible mistake. 

One moment, he was descending into the fray, and the next, he was being thrown to the ground below by the force of the woman’s attack. Thankfully he was a skilled Soldier and had been thrown about by Sephiroth far too many times to count. It was rather easy to regain his footing and search for his prey. 

Only his prey had quite the bite.

“I take it the summons was yours?” a feminine voice called out, entirely unimpressed.

Genesis turned around, finding Tifa Lockhart standing behind him with her arms crossed, and equally unimpressed glare on her face. Up close, Genesis could see why the announcers had liked her. She certainly had the proper assets to make any man swoon. But she also didn’t look like much close up. How had dear Sephiroth lost to someone like her?

“Do you have a problem with that, my dear?” he asked with an eager smirk.

“Ifrit nearly hit one of the support pillars in Sector 7,” Tifa stated, a growl to her voice, something dark and threatening. “Had this gone any further, countless people could have died.”

Genesis scoffed. “As if Shinra would have cared. All he cares is that his champion reigns supreme. And, assuming the other three were your friends, Shinra now has a vested interest in the four of you. Now, if I happen to defeat you…”

The wrong thing to say, Genesis realized seconds later. Seconds too late.

“You know, we gave ourselves rules when we agreed to participate in these fights against Sephiroth. One of those rules was that we wouldn’t use our limit breaks.”

There was a blue sort of aura pulsing around Tifa now as she took several slow, deliberate steps forward. 

“So let me make something absolutely clear to you. I don’t care what Shinra thinks. I do not want anyone to die, and I’m not going to let some foolish poster child wannabe take lives just to get what he wants.”

“I beg your pardon? Poster child wanna-”

“Right now, I’m already at my next limit. And you are not Sephiroth.”

She moved with the grace of a dolphin, Genesis thought absently. The blue aura of her limit seemed to burst forth like water, seeming to mock the fire that followed Genesis all his life. Each strike of her fist or her feet was done with a grace and sleekness that was like a dance all its own. She didn’t dare let him escape his punishment. 

As soon as it started, it stopped, and Genesis found himself thrown through several walls of debris, left to crumple to the grounds of the slums below, staring up at the foggy sky above as if to mock him.

Distantly, he registered the pain. But it was nothing compared to the grace of the one-sided battle he’d just endured.

—------------------------------------

Tifa trudged up the steps to the church, allowing herself one last stretch. Cloud was standing in the doorway with Aerith, the two seemingly chatting easily as they awaited her return. Their attention was quick to shift to her as her feet hit the stairs. 

“Tifa!” Aerith cheered, quick to race to meet her. “You were amazing! I actually went into town to watch your fight on the big screen! It was amazing!”

Tifa let out a fond little laugh as Aerith took her hands, tugging her up the steps and into the safety of the church. Cloud was quick to fall into step at her other side, taking one of her hands from Aerith as they entered the church. 

She was back earlier than originally anticipated, but Tifa had no doubt news of her battle with Ifrit had reached the others, just as her battle with Sephiroth had. She had to let go of Cloud and Aerith, though, as the minute she stepped into the church, she was tackled by two children who didn’t yet reach her waist. 

“You were amazing, Tifa!” Marlene cheered.

“Yeah! You broke Sephiroth’s nose!”

Tifa’s eyes widened as she whipped around to Cloud. 

“I did?”

“Highlight of my day,” Cloud informed her with a wry smile. “Now come on. We set up a makeshift shower and you get to be the first to try it out. Then Yuffie wants us to spin the bottle so we can figure out who’s next. She’s pretty confident it will be her this time.”

“Speaking of, where are the others?” 

“Where else?” Aerith grinned. “Out practicing. Plus we need dinner for tonight, so they’re monster hunting. Should give you enough time to get cleaned up before we figure out who’s next!”

“Alright! Alright! I’m going! We can spin the bottle once I’m done! Now show me how this shower works!” 

And then Cloud was leading her towards the back of the church as Marlene and Denzel gushed about Tifa’s fight with Aerith. A scene so surreal, Tifa couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, even with her earlier bad mood. 

“Feeling better?” Cloud asked, lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah. Much better.”

“Good, because there’s something you need to know,” Cloud said, the amusement dropping from his voice. 

“Huh?”

“Tifa. Our parents arrived in the Sector 6 slums today. Reeve got them out, but-”

Tifa felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her feet. 

“My… dad saw?”