Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Dreams ❯ Haunted ( Chapter 37 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: dracoqueen22 
A brief glimpse into Tseng's past... and Cloud meets a ghost.
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Drama / Action | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.08.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 286 | Status: Completed
A brief glimpse into Tseng's past... and Cloud meets a ghost.
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Drama / Action | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.08.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 286 | Status: Completed
Thanks to reviewers!!!
Ri: Mwa ha! It is part of my brilliant plan to keep you on the edge of your seat. But never fear! I shall not leave you in the lurch! More cutey-goodness is coming your way! Thanks!
ayachan: Thanks! Here's that meeting you were looking for!
Miko: Thanks!! Don't worry! I don't mind the lateness. I hope this chapter intrigues you even more.
(Voice in Head)
‘Internal Thought’
Chapter 37: Haunted
He had not had this dream in a long time, managing to bury the memory with all the others he did not want to remember. Tseng didn’t think it was fair that there were many such parts in his life he would rather forget. They very nearly or possibly did eclipse what few good and precious remembrances he did have. His life had always been nothing short of difficult, and he had come to accept that. Still, after managing to forget for so long, he did not want to be seeing the same dream again, like he was now.
He had been young then, barely five years old. Too young to be facing what he had, too young to understand much of anything. Yet, it was one of those events, one of the those monumental moments in anyone’s life that did not fade with time, only growing sharper as the years went on until each detail was ingrained in memory. As always, it began the same and this time was no different.
… Crying? Why is Mother crying? He wondered this to himself as he looked between his father and mother, little dark head swinging back and forth as he clutched onto his comfort toy, a small stuffed dog. They were in a building somewhere, the lights barely bright enough to illuminate everything around him. The carpet below him was a royal red and trimmed with gold, a detail he always remembered quite clearly. Tseng could smell the incense of the temple, that thick smoky scent that made him think of jasmine and hickory. An odd combination.
The child did not understand.
He looked around, silver eyes falling on all the people gathered. There were so many, more than he had ever seen in one place. He didn’t recognize anyone. Who were all these people? They all seemed angry and… scared? Father… he looked so sad. Why?
The boy tugged on the arm of his mother’s nearly starch white kimono, trying to get her attention. The fabric felt soft under his fingers, belying their stiffness. He could feel that clearly. In the same moment, his father’s hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed just once. The gesture was as real to him as the day it had first been felt. This made the boy smile up at his father because that usually meant that he was proud.
What had he done?
So why did everyone look so angry? And yelling… many faces screaming and pointing at his mother, eyes hard and faces drawn with accusatory glares. She winced at every new word and seemed to shrink into herself, no matter how tall and proud she attempted to appear. Tseng wanted to comfort her; he wanted to make that look go away but didn’t know how. He grabbed her hand and curled his tiny fingers in her slack palm. She acknowledged him with a tiny squeeze but then dropped his hold.
Ouch!
He whirled around, eyes wide as he grabbed his head, face scrunched up with pain. Someone had pulled on his hair hard. He caught a glimpse of a dark green fabric disappearing into the crowd of faces around but couldn’t say who had done it. He only knew that none looked friendly. He began to be afraid, fear curling in his belly as confusion settled in even further.
The adults were shrieking at one another over his head. He noticed his Aunt Mihari, his favorite relative, looking pale as her body shook. She seemed as if she wanted to help his mother but couldn’t. Why were there tears in her eyes? He was so confused.
And now father… he was arguing back, his face red and his arm gesturing wildly. Mother buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs, and the boy felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes, the hot feeling pushing at him and threatening to well over.
They had been dragged from their home, Tseng practically pulled across the ground his feet barely touching. The guards had held his father at shuriken and knife-point and gestured threateningly to make them obey. They were going to sit down to dinner. It was his favorite meal, and they wouldn’t let him eat. His stomach growled hungrily, but he attempted to ignore it in the face of his discomfort, in the face of the fear that was filling him with these confusing events.
Cursed… fallen… disgrace… these were the words that he heard whispered, that were cresting over and through him. Sometimes they were even yelled. Tseng didn’t really understand what they meant, but he knew they weren’t happy words, not with the way his mother looked or the manner his father had taken. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth, little hands tightening on his stuffed dog as he pulled closer to his mother.
The feelings were thick in the air, so heavy he felt as if he were drowning. It scared him more than the monster in the forest… and more than the haunting darkness. He didn’t like being in the inky blackness. He told his mother that the shadows moved and sometimes they talked. She told him not to be afraid, but he did not like the dark, even when it gently touched his hair or wrapped itself around him like a blanket.
The voices rose to a crescendo before suddenly dropping in volume. He looked around, surprised by the sudden quiet. Silver eyes took in the sight of everyone gazing at him, locked on his small form. He shrunk back in fear, hiding behind his mother’s sleeve.
“What about Tseng?” a loud male voice demanded. “What about the boy?”
His mother’s arm instantly wrapped around him as she shot the man a harsh glare. Tseng welcomed her touch, glad for the comforting gesture even as she spoke back to the accusing man. Her voice wavered, but her resolve was strong. He could feel his father’s presence beside them and knew that the three stood a united front… a united family.
“He knows nothing,” his mother responded.
Yet, her words were lost in the cacophony of anger and fear. They were afraid of his mother… but why? He didn’t understand why everyone seemed to hate them so much. He could feel it in their stares, and it hurt to see his kin look at him with such strong dark stares.
“There is no other choice!” insisted the loudest voice of them all. “The laws are clear. You are to be exiled.”
His mother bit back a sob, her hold on him tightening. “For no other reason than because I am different,” she muttered bitterly, “because you do not understand, and you fear.”
Exile? What did that mean? And why was Mother so sad? Why was Father suddenly angry?
“Then we will go with her! I will not send my wife away,” came his father’s firm voice.
“No, Hyuga, you cannot,” cried his wife, her voice pleading. “You and Tseng should stay… for him.”
The boy couldn’t see what was going on, but he knew his father was shaking his head. “No. He needs his mother more than he needs this. If you are to be exiled, then so shall we.”
Fading… swirling… his voice dripping away as the scene always changed with his father’s declaration, as if what happened between events was not important to his five-year old mind. The next instances blurred by, moving so quickly since his memory just could not process everything. Then the dream always ended with the same sad scene, the same heart-breaking hopeless-seeming event.
The salty smelling wind whipped about his face as his hands gripped the peeling and rusted railing of the boat. Tseng looked mournfully towards the shore of his homeland as his parents stood behind him, one hand on each of his shoulders. One of his own hands came up, to rub at the mark on his forehead. He still couldn’t get used to the heavy object that now adorned him.
However, he knew he would have to wear it for the rest of his life.
He looked up at his parents, who bared the same mark. His dad squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, though neither of them took their eyes from the retreating shoreline as the boat pulled away from Wutai.
“We will see Aunt Mihari again soon, right?” he asked, his soft voice carrying easily on the wind.
His mother chewed on her lip and lowered her head. “Tseng…” Yet, she said no more, and he knew the tears were coming. They fell so easily now, but she hid her face well, knowing that she was supposed to be strong. Strong for him and strong for what was coming.
Tseng turned his silvery gaze back to the fading stretch of sandy shore and felt a pressure in his chest, as if someone had taken his heart and squeezed. He didn’t understand what was going on or what had really happened over the past few days. He only knew that his mother had seemed sad lately and his father so angry.
“We do not need them,” insisted his father, his arm going around his wife’s shoulder. “We can do this without any of them.”
Tseng wanted to go home. He wanted his room with his friends and his family. He wanted his soft bed and to play out in the koi gardens. He didn’t want to go to Junon or wherever it was his mother and father were taking him. He already missed the smell of the temple or the special tea that his grandmother brewed.
They were given hardly any time to pack. He missed his clothes and his toys and everything.
He felt tears welling up behind his eyes. He didn’t want to leave his home. He couldn’t hold back the feelings in his heart as it felt like a part of him was dying. He wept, though silently, as he watched the last remnants of his home with his parents by his side.
He had never felt more alone.
Something in him broke at that moment, a part of him that he would forever hide away and locked deep inside so that no one could touch it. He began to feel as if a little piece of who he was had died… even to his five-year old self.
Tears spilled from silvery eyes, falling over his cheeks and splashing on the creaky wooden deck below them. He made no attempt to brush them aside nor did his mother either. It was as if she was saying it was fine for him to cry. His stomach clenched but not from sickness. His fingers again brushed over the mark on his forehead, and he couldn’t help but cry out aloud, as if his emotional pain had become physical.
The salty wind ruffled through his dark locks again, brushing across his tear-streaked face and blurring his vision.
Even at five years old, his mind he knew that nothing would ever be the same for him again.
Nothing.
Tseng awoke slowly from the memory-filled dream as he always did when he remembered such deeply hidden things. His mind came into alertness at a snail’s pace, barely registering his surroundings. He angrily wiped at his dry face, as if he could still feel the remnants of his tears and stared almost blindly into the dark towards the ceiling. There was a reason he buried his past the way he had, and he couldn’t help but wonder why the things he had concealed had suddenly decided to rear their ugly heads.
He rolled over and peered at the clock. He had only been resting for a few hours, but it seemed like longer. Sitting up in the make shift bed, Tseng idly rubbed at his forehead with his fingers fearing another headache. He noticed, of course, when said fingers brushed over the same mark from his memory. That had not changed with the years and nor would it… not even after his death. Such were the laws.
He sighed to himself and pushed his somewhat weary body from the couch, idly flipping on a light as he did so. He and Cloud had been taking shifts watching over the-man-who-claimed-to-be-Sephiroth, looking for signs that would either explain his presence or confirm his story. They slept in the employee lounge when they did so. Not much had come out of it, but neither was too eager to leave the man alone, even if he was behind bars.
Tseng grabbed his swords from the table and stepped out into the brightness of the hall. It was late in the evening, so most of the employees that Reeve had kept had already gone home for the day. There weren’t many that still worked for ShinRa, the new President finding that he didn’t need many to run a company he was trying to destroy. Those he fired, however, he did manage to find suitable jobs elsewhere so that they wouldn’t be thrust into the streets. Reeve was a good man.
The Turk made his way down the hall to the stairs, preferring them to the elevator. It would be quicker and allow him time to think rather than having to listen to that ridiculous music that they insisted on playing.
The man behind the bars still had not changed his story at all, and Tseng and Cloud had come to a stand still. There was not much more they could do except wait… but with everything that had been happening, time was not on their side. Someone or something was again trying to destroy the world, and if they didn’t find out who soon, there might not be enough left to save.
His boots clomped noisily on the steps as he wearily made his way downstairs, mind oscillating between the memories he hadn’t wanted to dream of and a man he used to know. Tseng didn’t know how to explain it, only that something told him that Seraph was telling the truth. He just didn’t know how to express that to Cloud without the blond flying off the handle. The ex-SOLDIER was feeling particularly excitable lately, not that Tseng though he couldn’t handle Cloud. However, the man had helped destroy Sephiroth the first time, which was not an easy task.
Sighing again despite himself and rubbing a hand along his brow to stave off the headache that always came with thinking too hard and pushing things aside, Tseng pushed open the door to the jail and quickly stepped inside. It was quiet.
Cloud was sitting in the chair, applying a whetstone to his sword as he stared thoughtfully at the wall. Sephiroth was asleep in the cell, though he did not look like his rest was sound. He was tossing and shaking, though the Wutaiian knew he could not be cold. The jail was on the same heating and air system as the rest of the building.
Cloud looked up when he walked in but didn’t say anything. Tseng took the seat next to him and calmly observed the former General’s restless sleep before he spoke.
“Has he been like this since I left?”
The blond shrugged. “More or less. He was sleeping fine and then… that, though he did quiet some about ten minutes ago, but it soon started up again.”
“Should we wake him?” Tseng queried, a very bizarre gleam in his eyes.
Cloud shook his head. “No, he might say something through the nightmare. Besides… they might even prove his story.”
Tseng exhaled slowly and sat back in his chair. “We do not have time to keep this up. We either trust him… or we do not. With the mysterious enemy around us, we could use his help, or if not, we could find a better way to keep him locked away so that he is no longer a threat.”
The blond frowned and stopped sharpening his sword, hands relaxed on top of the blade. “It’s times like this I wonder why it’s me that found the power to save the world,” he commented.
Tseng turned silvery eyes towards his companion but said nothing.
“Why couldn’t it have been someone of wisdom, like Nanaki, who was given the task? Someone stronger than me? But then, perhaps there is a reason for everything.” He Cloud shook his head. “Bugenhagen would have had the answers. He would have just looked at him and said, ‘Ho, ho, ho, he’s a fake,’ or ‘Ho, ho, ho, it’s really him’, but he’s gone. Vincent could have looked straight through him and found the truth. But me, I’m grasping for straws here.”
“You are different then they,” responded Tseng carefully. “You have a connection to him that they do not. You knew him before,” the Wutaiian added in a strange tone.
Cloud shook his head. “Not all of our connections are obvious as some.”
The Turk furrowed his brow in confusion, not sure as to what the blond was talking about. However, before he could ask him to clarify, Sephiroth burst into consciousness in the cell, sitting up with a startled cry and grasping about him as if reaching for his sword. The two men watched in shock as his hand groped around and only came up empty as his shoulders heaved with every breath.
Tseng was sympathetic, considering his own attempts at sleeping.
They couldn’t see Seraph’s face since his back was to them, but they continued to pretend as if they weren’t watching, while they observed him. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side before he suddenly laid back down, without even saying a word. It was as if he were attempting to pretend nothing had ever happened.
Cloud and Tseng exchanged a wordless glance before the blond stood, returning his sword to its stance against the wall and stretching.
“I’m going to attempt to sleep now,” the ex-SOLDIER said in a quiet voice to the Wutaiian, his blue eyes occasionally flickering over to the still somewhat trembling Sephiroth. “But you are right… we can’t continue to drag this on. We either trust him, or we don’t.”
“What is the bigger risk?” the Turk wondered aloud.
The blond sighed. “I can’t say. Perhaps when I wake up I’ll have the answers.”
Tseng inclined his head but said nothing more. With another glance towards the man in the cell, Cloud headed for the door that the Turk had just come from not moments before. He left his sword behind, not needing it for the time. He opened the door to step into the hall…
… And came face to face with a crystalline-eyed ghost.
Cloud’s eyes widened in surprise as he gasped and took an unconscious step backwards. Tseng glanced up in concern as yet another man who should have been dead came into the room, a most familiar grin on his face.
“What’s a matter, Spike? You aren’t happy to see me?” questioned the newcomer, his energy completely filling the tiny jail. He darted forward and wrapped his arms around the slack blond, giving him a hug that completely overwhelmed Cloud. The swordsman could only mechanically return the gesture, still in awe as Zack pulled back and ruffled his hair affectionately.
Tseng rose as the blond continued to gape, a group of people coming in behind Zack, which included Aeris, Elena, and Denzel.
“What…?” was all that Cloud could say as his eyes flickered between the newcomers, occasionally darting into the cell before landing on his former best friend all over again. “But you’re dead!”
Elena snorted. “Yeah? And so was Sephiroth, but that didn’t stop him!”
Zack’s grin got even wider if that were at all possible. “Oh yeah! Seph’s here?” He looked around, eyes finally landing on the huddled man behind the bars who had uncurled himself to turn and see what all the ruckus was. A look of shock was registered in his moss green eyes. He appeared completely dumb-founded.
“Zack?” came the almost hoarse question.
The blue-eyed man laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Geez, one guy comes back to life, and everyone stands there gaping like a fish.”
“What is going on?” demanded Tseng sternly, struggling to take control of yet another impossible situation. Things were getting even more confusing then before. Did no one stay dead anymore?
Elena jerked a thumb in the grinning Zack’s direction. “He showed up at the church, boss. Aeris said she knew him, so I didn’t kill him. He said that he wanted to come here. That’s the short of it.”
“But why?” asked Cloud. He hadn’t moved from his initial stance, still in shock even as Aeris came to him and hugged him in greeting. He was glad to see his friend alive but wasn’t sure if he could believe it, just like he wasn’t sure if he could trust Sephiroth’s return.
“The Planet sent me!” exclaimed Zack proudly.
Accusing eyes turned towards the man behind the cell. “Then why is he here?” demanded the blond. “He is really false, then?”
The dark-haired man held up his hands. “Hold on, there. I didn’t say all that now. Seph might be here for an entirely different reason.”
Tseng rubbed his temples, fearing another headache. “Forgive me, but how can we even trust that you are real and not a product of some ploy?” he questioned of the newcomer.
“It is him,” answered Aeris before Zack could even speak. “Hephaestion has told me that he is supposed to be here.”
“And him?” asked Elena, inclining her head towards Sephiroth, who had said nothing more than Zack’s name since the former SOLDIER had arrived. “What are we to do with him, then?”
“Seph!” Before anyone could respond, Denzel’s voice cut through the din. He extricated himself from Aeris’ grasp, shot a glare at Cloud and rushed to the bars of the cell, a big smile on his face.
“Denzel!” exclaimed the former General in surprise as he stood to his feet. “You are here, too?”
The little brunet nodded. “When are you coming out?”
Green eyes flickered between Denzel and Cloud as he moved to the bar and knelt down so that he could speak to the boy face to face. “Soon… I promise.”
“It’s amazing,” whispered Aeris in awe, leaning in towards Elena as they watched the two interact. “He got attached so quickly.”
“Okay, kiddo,” interrupted Zack, picking up the small boy by the arms and depositing him back next to Aeris. “Let me talk to Seph for a minute.”
Denzel made to protest, but a look from Sephiroth silenced him. He nodded silently and went back to clutching on to the flower-girl. Everyone else watched quietly, unsure what to expect as the two former friends stood on opposite ends of the bars and regarded each other.
“You are yourself,” commented Zack, crystalline blue eyes flickering over the features of the man who had once been his best friend. “The madness is gone.”
Sephiroth lowered his gaze, instantly feeling ashamed once again for his actions. “Yes.”
Something flickered across Zack’s face as he regarded his friend. The emotion passed quickly before he turned towards Cloud. “Let me in the cell.”
Tseng frowned. “I’m not su-“
“Either let me in or let him out!” insisted Zack a bit more fiercely. “I don’t care which. I will break down these bars if I have to.”
“Zack-“ began Aeris, trying to calm him down.
“No,” responded the dark-haired man before she could even finish. He shook his head. “What I have to say is not going to be said through a wall of iron.” There was a look on his face that told he would have things no other way.
Tseng looked to Cloud, wondering what they should do… if things were going to get violent. The blond regarded his friend with a strange expression, something shining behind those mako eyes before he exchanged glances with the flower-girl and nodded.
“Do it,” he said, returning his gaze to Tseng. “I trust him.”
The Turk shrugged elegantly. “Very well,” he said, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out the key to the cell. He unlocked it quickly, pulling open the door so that Zack could enter. The spiky-haired man grinned at him, blue eyes shining as he moved through the door, coming face to face with the man that had once tried to kill him.
They stared at each other, standing no more than a few feet apart as everyone who was watching held their breath, wondering what it was Zack had to say. There was a moment of silence before Sephiroth shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I am so very sorry. I…” he faltered, not sure what else to say.
Zack regarded him for a moment before stepping forward quickly. The former General moved backwards in surprise, having only the brief thought that his friend was going to strike him, not that it wasn’t what he deserved.
Instead, Zack grabbed up his best friend in a hug. Sephiroth was momentarily surprised before he slowly returned the gesture, not used to physical contact that wasn’t in the midst of battle.
“I’m glad you are back,” murmured the dark-haired man, his head buried in the General’s shoulder.
And truly he was. The look of madness he last remembered seeing in Sephiroth’s eyes was gone, replaced by a sad sort of clarity for everything he had done.
“You… do not… hate me?” questioned Sephiroth as Zack finally released him from the nearly rib-crushing hug.
The crystalline-eyed man raised a brow. “Should I? It was not you who killed me, but that fucking maniac Hojo and his gang of cronies.”
Sephiroth flushed. “Yes, but if I hadn’t destroyed Nibelheim and gone mad… Hojo wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get a hold of you… or Cloud for that matter,” he said in response, gaze momentarily flickering over to the blond. It was then that he noticed everyone else that was watching.
They had quite an audience. He couldn’t help it. He flushed even brighter and turned away, hating for the moment that he was behind bars.
Zack laughed, immediately catching the look. He turned towards the others and winked before shuffling up to his friend, shouldering him and leaning in conspiratorially.
“So I hear you’ve got a kid,” he whispered. Raising a brow as Sephiroth’s eyes widened and looked to him in shock. “Who’s the father?”
Sephiroth looked mortified, shooting the others a quick glance over his shoulder. “Zack!” groaned the former General in irritation.
“Anyone I know?” continued the crystalline-eyed man with a wiggle of his brows. “I bet I know who you would like it to be,” Zack added charmingly, leaning forward. He beamed and chuckled. “I never knew you had it in you.”
Sephiroth shook his head and brought a hand up to his face. He found, to his horror, that he was blushing profusely, even as he felt everyone’s eyes burning onto him. He was distinctly glad that he had his back turned to the others.
The dark-haired man started laughing again before turning towards their group of observers. “Can we get out of here now? Or are we still going to play the, Sephiroth-can’t-be-trusted game?”
All eyes turned in Cloud’s direction, as if the decision was entirely his to make. And perhaps it was. Maybe as the man who led the group that defeated Sephiroth the first time, he was the only one with enough knowledge to make the right choice.
Yet, for the blond swordsman, it was something he did not want on his shoulders.
Cloud sighed and rubbed his forehead before slumping back down in his chair. “I don’t know what to do or think,” he admitted.
(It’s alright to fear,) came the most familiar voice that he thought he had quieted earlier. (Trust in your friends, and it will be fine.)
‘I’m not afraid of him,’ Cloud insisted. However, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the other… or himself.
(No, you are afraid of your heart.)
“Cloud?” Aeris’ questioning voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up. She had noted the strange look on his face. “Are you alright?”
The blond nodded. “I’m fine. What are we to do?”
Tseng and Elena exchanged glances but before they could answer, a sudden loud noise cut them off. An alarm blared, accompanied by flashing orange and red lights, nearly blinding those gathered. Denzel’s hands automatically clapped over his ears as he winced.
“What’s that?” asked Aeris, looking around in confusion. Her brow furrowed as she attempted to block out the noise.
“It is the evacuation alarm,” Tseng explained, already moving to unlock the cell once more. “However, only Reeve has the authorization to issue one. Elena, get everyone out. I will see what is going on.”
In the wake of the shrill alarm and lights, everyone was more than quick to comply.
***
Review please! I promise, the next four chapters are kick ass!!
Ri: Mwa ha! It is part of my brilliant plan to keep you on the edge of your seat. But never fear! I shall not leave you in the lurch! More cutey-goodness is coming your way! Thanks!
ayachan: Thanks! Here's that meeting you were looking for!
Miko: Thanks!! Don't worry! I don't mind the lateness. I hope this chapter intrigues you even more.
(Voice in Head)
‘Internal Thought’
Chapter 37: Haunted
He had not had this dream in a long time, managing to bury the memory with all the others he did not want to remember. Tseng didn’t think it was fair that there were many such parts in his life he would rather forget. They very nearly or possibly did eclipse what few good and precious remembrances he did have. His life had always been nothing short of difficult, and he had come to accept that. Still, after managing to forget for so long, he did not want to be seeing the same dream again, like he was now.
He had been young then, barely five years old. Too young to be facing what he had, too young to understand much of anything. Yet, it was one of those events, one of the those monumental moments in anyone’s life that did not fade with time, only growing sharper as the years went on until each detail was ingrained in memory. As always, it began the same and this time was no different.
… Crying? Why is Mother crying? He wondered this to himself as he looked between his father and mother, little dark head swinging back and forth as he clutched onto his comfort toy, a small stuffed dog. They were in a building somewhere, the lights barely bright enough to illuminate everything around him. The carpet below him was a royal red and trimmed with gold, a detail he always remembered quite clearly. Tseng could smell the incense of the temple, that thick smoky scent that made him think of jasmine and hickory. An odd combination.
The child did not understand.
He looked around, silver eyes falling on all the people gathered. There were so many, more than he had ever seen in one place. He didn’t recognize anyone. Who were all these people? They all seemed angry and… scared? Father… he looked so sad. Why?
The boy tugged on the arm of his mother’s nearly starch white kimono, trying to get her attention. The fabric felt soft under his fingers, belying their stiffness. He could feel that clearly. In the same moment, his father’s hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed just once. The gesture was as real to him as the day it had first been felt. This made the boy smile up at his father because that usually meant that he was proud.
What had he done?
So why did everyone look so angry? And yelling… many faces screaming and pointing at his mother, eyes hard and faces drawn with accusatory glares. She winced at every new word and seemed to shrink into herself, no matter how tall and proud she attempted to appear. Tseng wanted to comfort her; he wanted to make that look go away but didn’t know how. He grabbed her hand and curled his tiny fingers in her slack palm. She acknowledged him with a tiny squeeze but then dropped his hold.
Ouch!
He whirled around, eyes wide as he grabbed his head, face scrunched up with pain. Someone had pulled on his hair hard. He caught a glimpse of a dark green fabric disappearing into the crowd of faces around but couldn’t say who had done it. He only knew that none looked friendly. He began to be afraid, fear curling in his belly as confusion settled in even further.
The adults were shrieking at one another over his head. He noticed his Aunt Mihari, his favorite relative, looking pale as her body shook. She seemed as if she wanted to help his mother but couldn’t. Why were there tears in her eyes? He was so confused.
And now father… he was arguing back, his face red and his arm gesturing wildly. Mother buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs, and the boy felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes, the hot feeling pushing at him and threatening to well over.
They had been dragged from their home, Tseng practically pulled across the ground his feet barely touching. The guards had held his father at shuriken and knife-point and gestured threateningly to make them obey. They were going to sit down to dinner. It was his favorite meal, and they wouldn’t let him eat. His stomach growled hungrily, but he attempted to ignore it in the face of his discomfort, in the face of the fear that was filling him with these confusing events.
Cursed… fallen… disgrace… these were the words that he heard whispered, that were cresting over and through him. Sometimes they were even yelled. Tseng didn’t really understand what they meant, but he knew they weren’t happy words, not with the way his mother looked or the manner his father had taken. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth, little hands tightening on his stuffed dog as he pulled closer to his mother.
The feelings were thick in the air, so heavy he felt as if he were drowning. It scared him more than the monster in the forest… and more than the haunting darkness. He didn’t like being in the inky blackness. He told his mother that the shadows moved and sometimes they talked. She told him not to be afraid, but he did not like the dark, even when it gently touched his hair or wrapped itself around him like a blanket.
The voices rose to a crescendo before suddenly dropping in volume. He looked around, surprised by the sudden quiet. Silver eyes took in the sight of everyone gazing at him, locked on his small form. He shrunk back in fear, hiding behind his mother’s sleeve.
“What about Tseng?” a loud male voice demanded. “What about the boy?”
His mother’s arm instantly wrapped around him as she shot the man a harsh glare. Tseng welcomed her touch, glad for the comforting gesture even as she spoke back to the accusing man. Her voice wavered, but her resolve was strong. He could feel his father’s presence beside them and knew that the three stood a united front… a united family.
“He knows nothing,” his mother responded.
Yet, her words were lost in the cacophony of anger and fear. They were afraid of his mother… but why? He didn’t understand why everyone seemed to hate them so much. He could feel it in their stares, and it hurt to see his kin look at him with such strong dark stares.
“There is no other choice!” insisted the loudest voice of them all. “The laws are clear. You are to be exiled.”
His mother bit back a sob, her hold on him tightening. “For no other reason than because I am different,” she muttered bitterly, “because you do not understand, and you fear.”
Exile? What did that mean? And why was Mother so sad? Why was Father suddenly angry?
“Then we will go with her! I will not send my wife away,” came his father’s firm voice.
“No, Hyuga, you cannot,” cried his wife, her voice pleading. “You and Tseng should stay… for him.”
The boy couldn’t see what was going on, but he knew his father was shaking his head. “No. He needs his mother more than he needs this. If you are to be exiled, then so shall we.”
Fading… swirling… his voice dripping away as the scene always changed with his father’s declaration, as if what happened between events was not important to his five-year old mind. The next instances blurred by, moving so quickly since his memory just could not process everything. Then the dream always ended with the same sad scene, the same heart-breaking hopeless-seeming event.
The salty smelling wind whipped about his face as his hands gripped the peeling and rusted railing of the boat. Tseng looked mournfully towards the shore of his homeland as his parents stood behind him, one hand on each of his shoulders. One of his own hands came up, to rub at the mark on his forehead. He still couldn’t get used to the heavy object that now adorned him.
However, he knew he would have to wear it for the rest of his life.
He looked up at his parents, who bared the same mark. His dad squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, though neither of them took their eyes from the retreating shoreline as the boat pulled away from Wutai.
“We will see Aunt Mihari again soon, right?” he asked, his soft voice carrying easily on the wind.
His mother chewed on her lip and lowered her head. “Tseng…” Yet, she said no more, and he knew the tears were coming. They fell so easily now, but she hid her face well, knowing that she was supposed to be strong. Strong for him and strong for what was coming.
Tseng turned his silvery gaze back to the fading stretch of sandy shore and felt a pressure in his chest, as if someone had taken his heart and squeezed. He didn’t understand what was going on or what had really happened over the past few days. He only knew that his mother had seemed sad lately and his father so angry.
“We do not need them,” insisted his father, his arm going around his wife’s shoulder. “We can do this without any of them.”
Tseng wanted to go home. He wanted his room with his friends and his family. He wanted his soft bed and to play out in the koi gardens. He didn’t want to go to Junon or wherever it was his mother and father were taking him. He already missed the smell of the temple or the special tea that his grandmother brewed.
They were given hardly any time to pack. He missed his clothes and his toys and everything.
He felt tears welling up behind his eyes. He didn’t want to leave his home. He couldn’t hold back the feelings in his heart as it felt like a part of him was dying. He wept, though silently, as he watched the last remnants of his home with his parents by his side.
He had never felt more alone.
Something in him broke at that moment, a part of him that he would forever hide away and locked deep inside so that no one could touch it. He began to feel as if a little piece of who he was had died… even to his five-year old self.
Tears spilled from silvery eyes, falling over his cheeks and splashing on the creaky wooden deck below them. He made no attempt to brush them aside nor did his mother either. It was as if she was saying it was fine for him to cry. His stomach clenched but not from sickness. His fingers again brushed over the mark on his forehead, and he couldn’t help but cry out aloud, as if his emotional pain had become physical.
The salty wind ruffled through his dark locks again, brushing across his tear-streaked face and blurring his vision.
Even at five years old, his mind he knew that nothing would ever be the same for him again.
Nothing.
Tseng awoke slowly from the memory-filled dream as he always did when he remembered such deeply hidden things. His mind came into alertness at a snail’s pace, barely registering his surroundings. He angrily wiped at his dry face, as if he could still feel the remnants of his tears and stared almost blindly into the dark towards the ceiling. There was a reason he buried his past the way he had, and he couldn’t help but wonder why the things he had concealed had suddenly decided to rear their ugly heads.
He rolled over and peered at the clock. He had only been resting for a few hours, but it seemed like longer. Sitting up in the make shift bed, Tseng idly rubbed at his forehead with his fingers fearing another headache. He noticed, of course, when said fingers brushed over the same mark from his memory. That had not changed with the years and nor would it… not even after his death. Such were the laws.
He sighed to himself and pushed his somewhat weary body from the couch, idly flipping on a light as he did so. He and Cloud had been taking shifts watching over the-man-who-claimed-to-be-Sephiroth, looking for signs that would either explain his presence or confirm his story. They slept in the employee lounge when they did so. Not much had come out of it, but neither was too eager to leave the man alone, even if he was behind bars.
Tseng grabbed his swords from the table and stepped out into the brightness of the hall. It was late in the evening, so most of the employees that Reeve had kept had already gone home for the day. There weren’t many that still worked for ShinRa, the new President finding that he didn’t need many to run a company he was trying to destroy. Those he fired, however, he did manage to find suitable jobs elsewhere so that they wouldn’t be thrust into the streets. Reeve was a good man.
The Turk made his way down the hall to the stairs, preferring them to the elevator. It would be quicker and allow him time to think rather than having to listen to that ridiculous music that they insisted on playing.
The man behind the bars still had not changed his story at all, and Tseng and Cloud had come to a stand still. There was not much more they could do except wait… but with everything that had been happening, time was not on their side. Someone or something was again trying to destroy the world, and if they didn’t find out who soon, there might not be enough left to save.
His boots clomped noisily on the steps as he wearily made his way downstairs, mind oscillating between the memories he hadn’t wanted to dream of and a man he used to know. Tseng didn’t know how to explain it, only that something told him that Seraph was telling the truth. He just didn’t know how to express that to Cloud without the blond flying off the handle. The ex-SOLDIER was feeling particularly excitable lately, not that Tseng though he couldn’t handle Cloud. However, the man had helped destroy Sephiroth the first time, which was not an easy task.
Sighing again despite himself and rubbing a hand along his brow to stave off the headache that always came with thinking too hard and pushing things aside, Tseng pushed open the door to the jail and quickly stepped inside. It was quiet.
Cloud was sitting in the chair, applying a whetstone to his sword as he stared thoughtfully at the wall. Sephiroth was asleep in the cell, though he did not look like his rest was sound. He was tossing and shaking, though the Wutaiian knew he could not be cold. The jail was on the same heating and air system as the rest of the building.
Cloud looked up when he walked in but didn’t say anything. Tseng took the seat next to him and calmly observed the former General’s restless sleep before he spoke.
“Has he been like this since I left?”
The blond shrugged. “More or less. He was sleeping fine and then… that, though he did quiet some about ten minutes ago, but it soon started up again.”
“Should we wake him?” Tseng queried, a very bizarre gleam in his eyes.
Cloud shook his head. “No, he might say something through the nightmare. Besides… they might even prove his story.”
Tseng exhaled slowly and sat back in his chair. “We do not have time to keep this up. We either trust him… or we do not. With the mysterious enemy around us, we could use his help, or if not, we could find a better way to keep him locked away so that he is no longer a threat.”
The blond frowned and stopped sharpening his sword, hands relaxed on top of the blade. “It’s times like this I wonder why it’s me that found the power to save the world,” he commented.
Tseng turned silvery eyes towards his companion but said nothing.
“Why couldn’t it have been someone of wisdom, like Nanaki, who was given the task? Someone stronger than me? But then, perhaps there is a reason for everything.” He Cloud shook his head. “Bugenhagen would have had the answers. He would have just looked at him and said, ‘Ho, ho, ho, he’s a fake,’ or ‘Ho, ho, ho, it’s really him’, but he’s gone. Vincent could have looked straight through him and found the truth. But me, I’m grasping for straws here.”
“You are different then they,” responded Tseng carefully. “You have a connection to him that they do not. You knew him before,” the Wutaiian added in a strange tone.
Cloud shook his head. “Not all of our connections are obvious as some.”
The Turk furrowed his brow in confusion, not sure as to what the blond was talking about. However, before he could ask him to clarify, Sephiroth burst into consciousness in the cell, sitting up with a startled cry and grasping about him as if reaching for his sword. The two men watched in shock as his hand groped around and only came up empty as his shoulders heaved with every breath.
Tseng was sympathetic, considering his own attempts at sleeping.
They couldn’t see Seraph’s face since his back was to them, but they continued to pretend as if they weren’t watching, while they observed him. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side before he suddenly laid back down, without even saying a word. It was as if he were attempting to pretend nothing had ever happened.
Cloud and Tseng exchanged a wordless glance before the blond stood, returning his sword to its stance against the wall and stretching.
“I’m going to attempt to sleep now,” the ex-SOLDIER said in a quiet voice to the Wutaiian, his blue eyes occasionally flickering over to the still somewhat trembling Sephiroth. “But you are right… we can’t continue to drag this on. We either trust him, or we don’t.”
“What is the bigger risk?” the Turk wondered aloud.
The blond sighed. “I can’t say. Perhaps when I wake up I’ll have the answers.”
Tseng inclined his head but said nothing more. With another glance towards the man in the cell, Cloud headed for the door that the Turk had just come from not moments before. He left his sword behind, not needing it for the time. He opened the door to step into the hall…
… And came face to face with a crystalline-eyed ghost.
Cloud’s eyes widened in surprise as he gasped and took an unconscious step backwards. Tseng glanced up in concern as yet another man who should have been dead came into the room, a most familiar grin on his face.
“What’s a matter, Spike? You aren’t happy to see me?” questioned the newcomer, his energy completely filling the tiny jail. He darted forward and wrapped his arms around the slack blond, giving him a hug that completely overwhelmed Cloud. The swordsman could only mechanically return the gesture, still in awe as Zack pulled back and ruffled his hair affectionately.
Tseng rose as the blond continued to gape, a group of people coming in behind Zack, which included Aeris, Elena, and Denzel.
“What…?” was all that Cloud could say as his eyes flickered between the newcomers, occasionally darting into the cell before landing on his former best friend all over again. “But you’re dead!”
Elena snorted. “Yeah? And so was Sephiroth, but that didn’t stop him!”
Zack’s grin got even wider if that were at all possible. “Oh yeah! Seph’s here?” He looked around, eyes finally landing on the huddled man behind the bars who had uncurled himself to turn and see what all the ruckus was. A look of shock was registered in his moss green eyes. He appeared completely dumb-founded.
“Zack?” came the almost hoarse question.
The blue-eyed man laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Geez, one guy comes back to life, and everyone stands there gaping like a fish.”
“What is going on?” demanded Tseng sternly, struggling to take control of yet another impossible situation. Things were getting even more confusing then before. Did no one stay dead anymore?
Elena jerked a thumb in the grinning Zack’s direction. “He showed up at the church, boss. Aeris said she knew him, so I didn’t kill him. He said that he wanted to come here. That’s the short of it.”
“But why?” asked Cloud. He hadn’t moved from his initial stance, still in shock even as Aeris came to him and hugged him in greeting. He was glad to see his friend alive but wasn’t sure if he could believe it, just like he wasn’t sure if he could trust Sephiroth’s return.
“The Planet sent me!” exclaimed Zack proudly.
Accusing eyes turned towards the man behind the cell. “Then why is he here?” demanded the blond. “He is really false, then?”
The dark-haired man held up his hands. “Hold on, there. I didn’t say all that now. Seph might be here for an entirely different reason.”
Tseng rubbed his temples, fearing another headache. “Forgive me, but how can we even trust that you are real and not a product of some ploy?” he questioned of the newcomer.
“It is him,” answered Aeris before Zack could even speak. “Hephaestion has told me that he is supposed to be here.”
“And him?” asked Elena, inclining her head towards Sephiroth, who had said nothing more than Zack’s name since the former SOLDIER had arrived. “What are we to do with him, then?”
“Seph!” Before anyone could respond, Denzel’s voice cut through the din. He extricated himself from Aeris’ grasp, shot a glare at Cloud and rushed to the bars of the cell, a big smile on his face.
“Denzel!” exclaimed the former General in surprise as he stood to his feet. “You are here, too?”
The little brunet nodded. “When are you coming out?”
Green eyes flickered between Denzel and Cloud as he moved to the bar and knelt down so that he could speak to the boy face to face. “Soon… I promise.”
“It’s amazing,” whispered Aeris in awe, leaning in towards Elena as they watched the two interact. “He got attached so quickly.”
“Okay, kiddo,” interrupted Zack, picking up the small boy by the arms and depositing him back next to Aeris. “Let me talk to Seph for a minute.”
Denzel made to protest, but a look from Sephiroth silenced him. He nodded silently and went back to clutching on to the flower-girl. Everyone else watched quietly, unsure what to expect as the two former friends stood on opposite ends of the bars and regarded each other.
“You are yourself,” commented Zack, crystalline blue eyes flickering over the features of the man who had once been his best friend. “The madness is gone.”
Sephiroth lowered his gaze, instantly feeling ashamed once again for his actions. “Yes.”
Something flickered across Zack’s face as he regarded his friend. The emotion passed quickly before he turned towards Cloud. “Let me in the cell.”
Tseng frowned. “I’m not su-“
“Either let me in or let him out!” insisted Zack a bit more fiercely. “I don’t care which. I will break down these bars if I have to.”
“Zack-“ began Aeris, trying to calm him down.
“No,” responded the dark-haired man before she could even finish. He shook his head. “What I have to say is not going to be said through a wall of iron.” There was a look on his face that told he would have things no other way.
Tseng looked to Cloud, wondering what they should do… if things were going to get violent. The blond regarded his friend with a strange expression, something shining behind those mako eyes before he exchanged glances with the flower-girl and nodded.
“Do it,” he said, returning his gaze to Tseng. “I trust him.”
The Turk shrugged elegantly. “Very well,” he said, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out the key to the cell. He unlocked it quickly, pulling open the door so that Zack could enter. The spiky-haired man grinned at him, blue eyes shining as he moved through the door, coming face to face with the man that had once tried to kill him.
They stared at each other, standing no more than a few feet apart as everyone who was watching held their breath, wondering what it was Zack had to say. There was a moment of silence before Sephiroth shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I am so very sorry. I…” he faltered, not sure what else to say.
Zack regarded him for a moment before stepping forward quickly. The former General moved backwards in surprise, having only the brief thought that his friend was going to strike him, not that it wasn’t what he deserved.
Instead, Zack grabbed up his best friend in a hug. Sephiroth was momentarily surprised before he slowly returned the gesture, not used to physical contact that wasn’t in the midst of battle.
“I’m glad you are back,” murmured the dark-haired man, his head buried in the General’s shoulder.
And truly he was. The look of madness he last remembered seeing in Sephiroth’s eyes was gone, replaced by a sad sort of clarity for everything he had done.
“You… do not… hate me?” questioned Sephiroth as Zack finally released him from the nearly rib-crushing hug.
The crystalline-eyed man raised a brow. “Should I? It was not you who killed me, but that fucking maniac Hojo and his gang of cronies.”
Sephiroth flushed. “Yes, but if I hadn’t destroyed Nibelheim and gone mad… Hojo wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get a hold of you… or Cloud for that matter,” he said in response, gaze momentarily flickering over to the blond. It was then that he noticed everyone else that was watching.
They had quite an audience. He couldn’t help it. He flushed even brighter and turned away, hating for the moment that he was behind bars.
Zack laughed, immediately catching the look. He turned towards the others and winked before shuffling up to his friend, shouldering him and leaning in conspiratorially.
“So I hear you’ve got a kid,” he whispered. Raising a brow as Sephiroth’s eyes widened and looked to him in shock. “Who’s the father?”
Sephiroth looked mortified, shooting the others a quick glance over his shoulder. “Zack!” groaned the former General in irritation.
“Anyone I know?” continued the crystalline-eyed man with a wiggle of his brows. “I bet I know who you would like it to be,” Zack added charmingly, leaning forward. He beamed and chuckled. “I never knew you had it in you.”
Sephiroth shook his head and brought a hand up to his face. He found, to his horror, that he was blushing profusely, even as he felt everyone’s eyes burning onto him. He was distinctly glad that he had his back turned to the others.
The dark-haired man started laughing again before turning towards their group of observers. “Can we get out of here now? Or are we still going to play the, Sephiroth-can’t-be-trusted game?”
All eyes turned in Cloud’s direction, as if the decision was entirely his to make. And perhaps it was. Maybe as the man who led the group that defeated Sephiroth the first time, he was the only one with enough knowledge to make the right choice.
Yet, for the blond swordsman, it was something he did not want on his shoulders.
Cloud sighed and rubbed his forehead before slumping back down in his chair. “I don’t know what to do or think,” he admitted.
(It’s alright to fear,) came the most familiar voice that he thought he had quieted earlier. (Trust in your friends, and it will be fine.)
‘I’m not afraid of him,’ Cloud insisted. However, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the other… or himself.
(No, you are afraid of your heart.)
“Cloud?” Aeris’ questioning voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up. She had noted the strange look on his face. “Are you alright?”
The blond nodded. “I’m fine. What are we to do?”
Tseng and Elena exchanged glances but before they could answer, a sudden loud noise cut them off. An alarm blared, accompanied by flashing orange and red lights, nearly blinding those gathered. Denzel’s hands automatically clapped over his ears as he winced.
“What’s that?” asked Aeris, looking around in confusion. Her brow furrowed as she attempted to block out the noise.
“It is the evacuation alarm,” Tseng explained, already moving to unlock the cell once more. “However, only Reeve has the authorization to issue one. Elena, get everyone out. I will see what is going on.”
In the wake of the shrill alarm and lights, everyone was more than quick to comply.
***
Review please! I promise, the next four chapters are kick ass!!