Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Mother's Milk ❯ Full Story ( Chapter 1 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Akilika Q 
Why did the final battle play out like it did? Fixed some errors and added a disclaimer Mar. 12, 2004
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 03.08.2004 | Updated On: 03.12.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 609 | Visits: 668 | Status: Completed
Why did the final battle play out like it did? Fixed some errors and added a disclaimer Mar. 12, 2004
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 03.08.2004 | Updated On: 03.12.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 609 | Visits: 668 | Status: Completed
Author's Note: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, am not afiliated with Squaresoft, and am using these characters and situations without permission.
"Mother?"
The voice is weak, a specter of what it once was. The darkness swallows it up nearly immediately.
Sephiroth is confused and even a little bit frightened; for the first time since he can remember, he feels truly alone. She isn't there. She's . . . gone? Why would she leave him now?
"Mother, speak to me."
A little more assertive this time, but still hollow. As the words die, Sephiroth finds the strength to grimace. She really isn't there. Gone.
What happened? Their goal wasn't achieved, and he knew that nothing short of death would keep her from it. Who . . .?
Him. He took her. He killed her, just like all his ancestors had tried. Because of him . . . that worthless traitor. That empty excuse of a human--useless even as a puppet. Mother had cast him aside because of this, and he had come back and slain her.
Jealousy. That boy . . . he had been jealous. Jealous of everything Sephiroth and Jenova had planned, everything they would reap. The boy wouldn't succumb to reality, so he destroyed it.
He had destroyed everything.
Sephiroth got to his feet in the blackness, sword in hand. Even without Mother . . . without Meteor . . . without anything, he was Sephiroth, descendant of the Ancients and legendary warrior. If all humans were not to die today, he could still take out just one.
He made his call. And he laughed--a small, tinny chuckle made almost in spite of himself.
A small part of Sephiroth was unsure. He felt weak--weaker than he ever had. His limbs were heavy and unfamiliar. How long had it been since Sephiroth had fought alone?
But that thought remained locked well away. At that moment, the human--the traitor--sped into sight. He was in perfect view, despite the darkness; this scene was one that needed more than eyes to see.
Sephiroth lifted his sword, a cold smile on his face.
Within moments, that smile was gone.
The traitor moved with alarming speed and strength; Sephiroth fell almost immediately beneath the barrage, unable even to bring his sword up in time to block. Blood coursed down his face and body, and even has he struggled to his feet, he knew; even the proudest part of him had to admit that it was over.
Power coursed around him, but not his own. The Lifestream beat at him, threatening to tear him apart.
It had been so quick, so effortless--how had he been so weak? No traitor, no human should have been able . . .
But Sephiroth was human. And with Mother gone, completely and totally . . . that was _all_ he was. A mere human, and one who hadn't so much as lifted his sword in the last five years.
It was over. The man known as Sephiroth ceased to be; only the Lifestream remained.
Jenova lent strength to all of her children, through her domination. She--not Hojo, _she_--chose the fitting vessels and rewarded them, strengthened them when they served her well. The others, she shattered.
Sephiroth was strong because of Jenova. Cloud was strong despite her. In the tunnels of the psyche, where physical presence was nothing and strength of will supreme . . .
It was only a reject that could have survived.
"Mother?"
The voice is weak, a specter of what it once was. The darkness swallows it up nearly immediately.
Sephiroth is confused and even a little bit frightened; for the first time since he can remember, he feels truly alone. She isn't there. She's . . . gone? Why would she leave him now?
"Mother, speak to me."
A little more assertive this time, but still hollow. As the words die, Sephiroth finds the strength to grimace. She really isn't there. Gone.
What happened? Their goal wasn't achieved, and he knew that nothing short of death would keep her from it. Who . . .?
Him. He took her. He killed her, just like all his ancestors had tried. Because of him . . . that worthless traitor. That empty excuse of a human--useless even as a puppet. Mother had cast him aside because of this, and he had come back and slain her.
Jealousy. That boy . . . he had been jealous. Jealous of everything Sephiroth and Jenova had planned, everything they would reap. The boy wouldn't succumb to reality, so he destroyed it.
He had destroyed everything.
Sephiroth got to his feet in the blackness, sword in hand. Even without Mother . . . without Meteor . . . without anything, he was Sephiroth, descendant of the Ancients and legendary warrior. If all humans were not to die today, he could still take out just one.
He made his call. And he laughed--a small, tinny chuckle made almost in spite of himself.
A small part of Sephiroth was unsure. He felt weak--weaker than he ever had. His limbs were heavy and unfamiliar. How long had it been since Sephiroth had fought alone?
But that thought remained locked well away. At that moment, the human--the traitor--sped into sight. He was in perfect view, despite the darkness; this scene was one that needed more than eyes to see.
Sephiroth lifted his sword, a cold smile on his face.
Within moments, that smile was gone.
The traitor moved with alarming speed and strength; Sephiroth fell almost immediately beneath the barrage, unable even to bring his sword up in time to block. Blood coursed down his face and body, and even has he struggled to his feet, he knew; even the proudest part of him had to admit that it was over.
Power coursed around him, but not his own. The Lifestream beat at him, threatening to tear him apart.
It had been so quick, so effortless--how had he been so weak? No traitor, no human should have been able . . .
But Sephiroth was human. And with Mother gone, completely and totally . . . that was _all_ he was. A mere human, and one who hadn't so much as lifted his sword in the last five years.
It was over. The man known as Sephiroth ceased to be; only the Lifestream remained.
Jenova lent strength to all of her children, through her domination. She--not Hojo, _she_--chose the fitting vessels and rewarded them, strengthened them when they served her well. The others, she shattered.
Sephiroth was strong because of Jenova. Cloud was strong despite her. In the tunnels of the psyche, where physical presence was nothing and strength of will supreme . . .
It was only a reject that could have survived.