puppy

(  ❛ Troublemaker? Must've broken yer mom's heart . . ❜  )

Some people were being chased by rake wielding old men, others were being cornered and stabbed in an alleyway. Zack was different; Reno had thought that near a dozen times and the night was not yet over. He matched Reno's temper with innocent grins, and he presented questions which brought out the mischievous quirk to the Turk's personality. Even when he wasn't aware nor held any specific intentions, he sucked the prongs of the fork as his lips split wide into a grin. The fork was removed, plopped down into the near empty bad, and it was crumpled within his grasp as he spoke.

(  ❛ Sometimes the crime itself is fun. Sometimes you just break the rules for the chase, for the hunt. A way to tell the world and society it can go fuck itself . . and then it tries to fuck you back. It's fun when the planet tries. ❜  )

Naturally, the planet meant the people who inhabited it and set the laws. If he believed in karma and all that lifestream nonsense, he would actually mean the planet would try to kill him for all the harm he did to it. Yeah, it was fun being chased through the alleys by a pissed off gang leader, just as long as it didn't end with him bleeding out. He did like the thrill of the hunt— chasing and being chased. Other times it just felt good to give civilized society the middle finger for all the hurt he endured.

(  ❛ When someone says no, there are times you retort with yes . . not in a weird way. Ya' get it. Well, maybe ya' do. Sometimes, soldier boy— . ❜  )

He sidled up to Zack and slapped that hunk of meat he called a forearm.

(  ❛ You gotta steal that apple, climb a water tower, and fuck until your dick feels like it ain't ever gonna get up again, get it? Sooo, what's next? The clams or the burger? ❜  )

"So that's your thing, huh?" he mused. "The chase."

He rolled the bottle once more before dropping it neatly into a nearby recycling bin with a satisfying clink.

"I kinda get that part." His grin brightened almost immediately.

"Not... y'know..." He gestured vaguely. "Making people want to arrest you."

The image of angry MPs chasing him around Shinra Headquarters flashed through his mind, and he snorted.

"I think Angeal would actually kill me before the guards ever got the chance."

The thought amused him far more than it probably should have. When Reno mentioned his mother, Zack's expression softened for just a heartbeat.

"Nah. My mom usually knew exactly where I was… Because I wasn't very good at sneaking around."

He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out an almost bashful laugh. He laughed at himself without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"If I stole an apple, I'd probably trip over a fence on the way out, apologize for taking it, then end up helping fix the fence before I went home." He shrugged as though that sounded perfectly reasonable. "Doesn't make for a very successful criminal."

The next part caught him completely off guard. The slap against his forearm barely registered, though he still felt his cheeks warming up, compared to the sentence that followed. Zack's eyes widened just enough to give him away before a cough escaped from the back of his fist.

"...That's a very specific life plan. You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

He couldn't stop the laugh that escaped afterward. He shook his head, still smiling, equal parts flustered and entertained. There was no judgment in it—only honest amusement. Truthfully, Zack couldn't imagine living at that intensity every day. Training, missions, protecting people... that already made his heart race enough. Still...

There was something oddly refreshing about someone who simply said whatever crossed his mind. Maybe a little dangerous. Definitely exhausting. But refreshing… His gaze drifted over the bustling street again, watching people weave between food stalls beneath the warm glow of neon signs. Laughter floated through the air alongside sizzling grills and shouted orders. Midgar never really slept. It just changed shifts.

Then Reno's final question registered. Zack looked between the seafood stand and the promise of burgers farther down the street. His stomach answered before he could. Another loud growl. He looked back at Reno with an easy grin.

"Burgers first." He pointed farther down the street. "We’ve been talking about them since we got rescued. I wanna know if they're actually worth all the hype."

He nudged Reno lightly with his shoulder as they started walking again, his expression bright with that same infectious enthusiasm that somehow never seemed to run out.

"And after that..."

He spread his hands dramatically.

"You can keep introducing me to all the other food I’ve been missing out on."

The bottle of beer acted like a baby's bottle to pacify him, but if he wanted some clams he was going to fucking get them. Reno all about tore the SOLDIER's arm as he pulled him away from the crowd. He didn't know what to make the man, but if Reno had any sense of judgement, he figured Zack thought similarly of him. He wasn't a pile of dumb rocks— considering the qualifications of the SOLDIER program, that would either make him the perfect candidate for manipulation or utterly useless in the field. He took Reno's words, digested him, and didn't cringe away like an uptight country bumpkin nor did he break from the conversation like plenty of others within ShinRa. Reno was done with his beer and chucking the glass bottle in the nearest bin. It wasn't his fault the garbage bin was mostly full, and the bottle broke into hundreds of pieces.

(  ❛ You're too nice. You want food here, you go for it. We have money. Other people can fuck off and go elsewhere. ❜  )

Reno was going to throw in something about cutting off a chicken's head for a meal, but going on and on about country life ( at least what Reno believed to be true ) was in bad taste. His voice was edged with irritation, but there wasn't enough heat to have his words carry into stranger's ears. The redhead inhaled sharply like he was about to rant, but the breath just went into his lungs and something much more calm went out. The playful glint in his turquoise eyes were gone as he let go of Zack's wrist, only just then realizing he was holding onto the SOLDIER.

(  ❛ Whatever, man, let's go over here.... ❜  )

The next stop was a vendor selling roasted and seasoned corn in bags with optional lobster meat on top. Reno had his bag with the extra helping of lobster in his hands in no time. Despite the heat of the food and overly cooked crustacean, he was gulping it down like he was hungry . . and taking out some anger on the medley.

(  ❛ Crimes—. ❜  )

Reno pointed the plastic fork at Zack, choked on the corn, and then continued.

(  ❛ Aren't fun if you apologize for them. Ya' do 'em and roll with the punches. How many people actually committed any crimes where you came from anyway?. ❜  )

“…That’s one way to recycle,” Zack muttered under his breath, half amused, half impressed despite himself.

Zack followed without hesitation, letting himself be tugged away from the crowd and the simmering annoyance that had briefly risen around them. He adjusted his grip on his wallet mid-step, glancing back once more at the vendor with an apologetic little wave before fully falling into pace beside Reno again. He didn’t seem particularly bothered by the chaos. If anything, he looked entertained by it.

The comment about being too nice earned a quiet huff of laughter from Zack, more amused than defensive. He rolled his shoulders as they moved, easing back into that familiar rhythm of walking like nothing in the world was urgent enough to stress over.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before,” he said lightly, glancing sideways. “Usually, right before someone tries to convince me it’s a weakness.”

His grin tilted slightly.

“Still waiting for that part where it becomes a problem.”

Zack didn’t seem to mind being tugged around, although Reno’s touch sent a bit of sparks and warmth each time he seemed to be getting used to it, and he didn’t react or comment on it. He was enjoying himself overall, maybe a lot more than he even anticipated. Sure, he went out with some of the other SOLDIERs from time to time, but somehow this just felt different. He even drank the beer he was given with no complaints, for someone who didn’t particularly care for alcohol. 

Eyebrows raised in amusement at the comment about crime in his hometown. 

“I grew up in Gongaga,” he said easily, leaning slightly against the stall as he ate. “So… not zero. But I think our definition of crime was more like ‘stealing apples from the neighbor’s tree and getting chased by an angry old man with a rake. I wouldn’t say I was a criminal back home, but I was known to be a little bit of a troublemaker.”

He left out the part that he was also known for being helpful and kind, someone the village folk could call on if they needed help. 

“So I guess I’m still building my resume.”

Another bite. Then, quieter but still amused:

“You make it sound like you’re supposed to enjoy breaking rules for the sake of it.”

He chewed for a moment, eyes drifting over Reno as if trying to solve that idea without overthinking it too much.

“…Do you?”

Ignorant to the ways of Gongaga, he wouldn't be surprised ( perhaps slightly ) if the townsfolk were known to be terrific dancers. Of course that meant that whatever country dance they would be famed for would not exactly match the energy in Midgar nor the blood-pumping kind of dancing Reno liked to the engage in. It wasn't even about practice or skill; someone just had to have a sense of timing, rhythm, and be horny, more or less. So, Reno gave him that much credit, and in manifested with a modest nod and a roll of his shoulders.

(  ❛ You could be, sure. Grind up on a lot of people and farm animals back home, did ya? ❜  )

With every passive and polite sentence came a little bite; it was the law of the jungle. He really didn't mean it as an insult. A little jab, yes, but in Reno's mind it was entirely plausible country bumpkins would test out their hobbies on their pets and property. As a way to bridge their lines of conversation together and maybe see how many of Zack's buttons he could push, Reno ducked down comically before leaning in to poke the SOLDIER's belly. Naturally, his finger was met with hard abdominal muscles, and it brought a delighted little thrill in him. It didn't show in his face the slightest bit, so he poked again before standing straight up. He was a SOLDIER. Of course he was fit, but it felt nice feeling it. Those gleaming turquoise eyes looked straight into the country bumpkin's skull like he was going to dissect his brain with a single glance . . playfully, of course.

(  ❛ Here I thought you were hungry. I can shove a lot more than that. Come on. ❜  )

Reno didn't mean for his words to have any double meaning, but if the pieces fell in that manner there was no helping it. He acted like a tour guide of the city even though Zack mad been in Midgar for plenty of time. How much time? He really didn't know. Reno hadn't known Zack as a trainee or a 3rd class. One day he was just there— a new face in the hallways and gymnasium to have a good look at. ShinRa hadn't chewed him and spit him up yet. Part of the Turk wished the company wouldn't. Actually . . all of him wished Zack would stay a SOLDIER until a glorious death in battle. It made him think about his own demise, and boy, did he hope it happened before he got old, weak, and creaky in the joints.

Reno didn't mean for his words to have any double meaning, but if the Reno walked with all the bravado in the world as he led his new friend around, but it was a lot like a corrupt mayor taking what would be his security hound for a walk. They had not walked far from the train station when life hit them. The smell of gas, garbage, lots of different foods, and something vaguely burning that was not all that bad. Reno led him to the heart of it all— Restaurants with their doors open, eager for customers, and street vendors trying to outcompete each other by singing, yelling, or banging their cooking utensils against their griddles.

(  ❛ How about . . ❜  )

Abruptly, the redhead stopped and turned on the heels of his shoes. His eyes were on Zack, more calm and casual this time, as he made a little show of walking backwards while gesticulating with excitement.

(  ❛ We start with some deep fried fish balls, oh and these umami fries that I think are covered in seaweed or somethin', then there's like three burger joints but I would not trust one of them. This one place has wobster tails on these buns and like this thick, spicy sauce all over. Oh! Baked clams with beer. ❜  )

He didn't wait for a reply before he bolted to hit up the street vendor grilling up clams. The stand wasn't anything fancy, but there were painted cartoon clams all over the cart, and Reno elbowed a few people to get to the front where he already began ordering them some clams while grabbing two bottles of iced beer from a little bucket.

Zack didn’t even try to hide the way his face twisted at Reno’s remark. He recoiled just enough to put a sliver of space between them, nose scrunching hard as he’d just been hit with the worst smell imaginable. Shooting Reno a look that hovered somewhere between offended and incredulous. 

“We dance with people. Actual people. Preferably, those who can consent.”

There was a beat. Then his mouth quirked.

“…Midgar really got you thinking farmers are out there two-stepping with livestock, huh?”

The jab landed light but clean, his grin flashing right after to take the edge off. He wasn’t bothered—not really—but he wasn’t about to just let that slide either… The poke to his stomach caught him mid-comeback.

“Hey—!”

Zack jerked back, laughter breaking through despite himself as he swatted halfheartedly at Reno’s hand. He might be a little ticklish… sometimes… Another poke. Another laugh. His tone stayed easy, playful, but there was a spark there now—something a little sharper than before. Not defensive. Just… engaged. Like he’d realized he didn’t actually have to tiptoe around Reno’s antics. If anything, he leaned into it.

The look Reno gave him… too intense, too close… should’ve been intimidating. Zack just met it. Held it for a second. Then grinned widely, the kind of genuine smile that met his eyes… The food list hit him right after, and just like that, his focus snapped cleanly away. 

“Wait! Hold on—” He pointed as Reno rattled things off. 

Too late. Reno was already gone. Zack huffed out a laugh and jogged after him, energy bouncing right back into place as the noise of the street swallowed them whole. The air was thick with heat, oil, salt—everything sizzling and alive. His stomach gave an immediate, traitorous growl. He reached the stand just in time to watch Reno cut straight through the line like it didn’t exist. Zack froze. Then, he slowly turned his head toward the people who’d just been bypassed. There was a collective shift in the crowd—annoyance, disbelief, a couple of outright glares—and Zack immediately stepped forward, hands lifting in surrender.

“Sorry—sorry!” He started, offering a quick, apologetic smile to the nearest group. “We didn’t—well, he did—but I didn’t mean to—”

He stopped himself, realizing he was making it worse. A sheepish laugh slipped out instead.

“Sorry,” he repeated, softer this time. “We’ve been stuck out in the desert all day. I think it broke his sense of… lines.”

That got a couple of reluctant smirks. Encouraged, Zack rubbed the back of his neck and added, “I can wait, if—if you guys were here first—” Someone waved him off with a tired shrug, more amused than angry now, and Zack’s shoulders loosened a fraction. “Thanks,” he said, genuinely grateful.

Only then did he turn back toward Reno—just in time to notice the beers already in hand. Zack blinked. Then leaned slightly, peering at one like it might explain itself. His gaze lifted, brows raising just a little.

“That part of step two, or are we skipping ahead?” He smirks. “And for the record,” he added lightly, “if step two involves more public crimes, I’m gonna need a heads-up so I can apologize in advance.”

Reno bent his knee, lifted his leg, and pressed the sole of his shoe against the structural metal pole keeping the bench bolted in place. He also dragged the pad of his pointer finger against the slightly cool metal, and he watched as he wiped away the rest of the smudges to replace their with his finger print. The redhead didn't want to toot his own horn . . that was a lie, but he was convinced he must have been the most interesting person Zack ever met. If Genesis or Angeal shared any of their lives with the SOLDIER, their lives were likely boring shit in comparison, heroic stories or otherwise. When Zack spoke again, Reno withdrew his finger from the pole and set his bright eyes on the naive SOLDIER. Both of their eyes were bright, different colours, but Zack's personality made his bright with energy; it was not the mako's doing. Who could resist the beach? And before Reno could control himself, not that he really would have given the opportunity, a burst of laughter escaped his mouth.

(  ❛ HA! ❜  )

It almost sounded mocking, then again almost everything Reno said was in a teasing-mocking tone. For those who knew Reno or grew to like him, it was more playful and honest than anything malicious. He could picture a very awkward country bumpkin waving his arms in the air out of rhythm and definitely out of the tone of the music playing. Was Zack not enthusiastic about anything? Reno had suspicions if he was offered to clean up a battlefield, bury the dead, that the SOLDIER would still be a little perky about the prospect.

(  ❛ I mean, it is better than being the sour grouch that refuses to dance. ❜  )

He waved his eyes across the rest of the train car as if accusing the rest of the SHINRA employees, the boring desk jockeys, of being those sour grouches. Reno didn't know them. Hell, he didn't care about them, but he had a feeling that people who had no aspirations in life were the most boring people to party with. They didn't acknowledge their presence or conversation which provided further evidence for Reno. Like sardines in a can, they stared blankly out the window, at seats, at the screens of their comm-devices, and several had their eyes closed for their pre-sleep nap. Did Zack think a burger at a greasy food stall counted as unwinding, or was he attempting to say he was interested in an actual night out. A partial night out considering drinking was, apparently, off the table for a mako-infused super soldier.

(  ❛ Yeah . . step one. Next time maybe we'll go to step three. Though if step one is food, is step three an alcoholic drink, Zacky? ❜  )

The train made several efficient stops with enough time to let people quickly in and out without stalling. Unless hungover or entirely exhausted, Reno wouldn't normally be able to get in a proper nap between ShinRa HQ and sector X with the efficiency the train provided. They finally arrived at their proper stationa, and the bright lights of the lively sector shimmered off all the windows of the train car even before their arrival. Reno went from lounging like a cat in the sun to a striking serpent; on his feet with a dramatic flip of his hair and beating Zack out the doors. He stretched and made a pleased noise as if he had been cramped in a tight space, though he was still sore and tired from their exhausting day in the desert. He rubbed at his stomach before fake stumbling over to nudge Zack in the ribs while a cheshire grin spread across his lips.

(  ❛ Ready to get stuffed, soldier boy? ❜  )

Zack did have friends, of course. Other SOLDIERs, people he trained with, laughed with. But even then… something about Reno stood out. Maybe it was the unpredictability. Maybe it was the way he didn’t fit into any neat category Zack was used to. Or maybe it was just that strange pull Zack couldn’t quite explain.

At first, he hadn’t expected them to get along at all. If anything, he’d figured they’d clash—too different, too opposite. And hey, maybe that would still happen. Maybe they weren’t meant to be friends. That was fine. At least he was trying. There was just something about Reno that Zack couldn’t ignore. Something he wanted to figure out—not in a dissecting, overthinking kind of way, but in that instinctive, gut-driven way Zack approached most things. If something felt right, he followed it. Simple as that. And right now? This felt right. Exciting, even.

Zack didn’t dwell on it too much. He never did. Overthinking usually just gets in the way of actually living. Still, there was a flicker of curiosity under it all—something that made him just a little more aware, a little more tuned in. Reno’s laugh snapped him out of it. Zack almost pouted—almost—but the expression melted into a grin just as quickly, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leaned back in his seat and shrugged.

“What?” he shot back, playful and bright. “What if I end up being the best dancer you’ve ever seen?”

He wiggled his brows dramatically, grin widening as he’d just made the most compelling argument of his life. For a split second, Zack’s gaze flicked around the train at Reno’s comment about grouchy people, like he might apologize on his behalf—but he stopped himself. Instead, he just laughed under his breath and shook his head.

“Hey, I’m with you on that one. Life’s too short to spend it being miserable all the time.”

Then came the nickname. Zack blinked. Zacky? It hit him a second later, and he had to bite back a louder laugh. His shoulders bounced once as he ducked his head, grin turning a little crooked—ears warming despite himself. He didn’t call it out. Didn’t tease it. But it stuck. He followed Reno off the train with that same easy energy, stepping onto the platform like he’d been waiting for this part all along. The city lights caught in his eyes as he looked around, then back at Reno, still smiling like he couldn’t quite help it.

“Hm… dunno,” he said, tilting his head thoughtfully at the mention of steps. “Depends.”

He leaned slightly closer as they walked, curiosity plain on his face.

“So what’s step two, huh?”

The question came out light, but there was real interest behind it—like he actually wanted to know the rules of this strange little game Reno had started. Then his stomach betrayed him. Zack paused mid-step, blinking as it growled loud enough to be heard over the surrounding noise. A beat, and then he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

how much harder would the little human's heart beat if the dragon would suddenly snatch him in his massive maw and . . devoured him. the great beast entertained the thought for the most ephemeral of a second. the thought was not born out of any sort of malice nor any hunger. it was human , in a matter , how a thought could prove be intrusive and short-lived. while in reality Sephiroth would not attempt to harm the human , a good scare might prove worth it. to remind the human of his place. to further cement himself in bitter isolation. very wrong, sephiroth— the deep voice in the back of his head reverberated. why save the human's home and offer another chance for connection if for naught?

why indeed. more amusing than his internal dilemma was the boy's external mannerisms. wandering and certainly not shy hands touched sephiroth in the most intimate of ways that the dragon was being tipped more into temptation to give the human a stern lesson. would sephiroth not act the same if he met another living dragon? he might be inclined if emotions from lonely to excitement stirred him into such boundary-breaking actions. maybe. humans were humans ; the world was their game board. by the time sephiroth came to a decision , the human was being too . . too innocent and pure of heart that the decision was made for him. and for a brief moment , the creature didn't know if he , himself , felt happiness , or he was growing the capability of feeling the human's emotions.

the dragon ridder and the dragon. sephiroth wrapped his tail closer to his body , and the massive appendage of muscle and gleaming scales very nearly touched the young human. fire did not rumble inside his stomach but laughter did — the closest thing a dragon could come to laughter with a little rumble and hot air expelled from his nostrils. sephiroth swiveled and positioned his head as much as possible to get a closer look at the man. yes , he was a man despite his child-like exuberance. the great dragon opted to lie his chin on the vegetation right beside the human , that way those massive gleaming eyes could look at him closely , so much it made him cross-eyed momentarily. he blew a very warm gust of air at his companion and watched curiously as hair spikes and clothes rippled with the force.

thanks for not eating me.

now , would he be able to feel the human's fear? without much warning beside the coiling shift of muscle , sephiroth lifted his head , peeled back his lips , and with extreme care picked the human up by the loose clothing at the back of his neck. he lifted him off the ground by the extension of his neck , however when he heard the material rip slightly , he whipped his head back to deposit the human on the broad surface between his shoulder blades. would the human be able to hold on? sephiroth's scales were smooth and not keeled , so he took it slow rising to his haunches , then to all four limbs , and then to a slow trot past trees that were dwarfed in his appearance.

“Whoa—!”

His hands shot out instinctively, fingers splaying across smooth scales as he scrambled to keep himself from sliding right off again. The dragon rose beneath him—slow, powerful—and Zack’s eyes widened so much they almost hurt.

“I’m on a dragon… I’M ACTUALLY RIDING A DRAGON!” He blurted with amazement.

The ground shifted as the dragon began to move, each step sending a rolling motion through Zack’s body. It was like sitting atop a living hill that had suddenly decided to walk. He clutched tighter, legs awkwardly trying to grip something, anything, while laughter bubbled helplessly out of his chest.

“This is… this is incredible!”

Wind rushed past his ears as the dragon trotted between towering trees, the forest bending and parting around the enormous body moving through it. Zack ducked instinctively as a branch swept overhead, his grip tightening as the dragon turned, his body swaying with the motion like a rider who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. That’s because he had no idea what he was doing, and he was no rider, even if he dreamt of being one for so long, and even if he was the best when it came to horse riding in the village, this was nothing like riding a horse!

And then suddenly his boots slipped.

“Uh—wait—hold on—!”

Too late. The dragon suddenly dropped down onto his haunches. Zack’s grip lasted about half a second. Then gravity remembered him.

“WHOA—!”

He slid… Right down the dragon’s long back like a child falling down a hill, arms flailing as he tried to catch himself. His boots scraped uselessly against scales before he tumbled the rest of the way down and landed in the grass with a surprised thud...For a second, he just lay there. Blinking up at the sky. Processing. Breathing a little hard…

Then he burst out laughing! He was not embarrassed or terrified, no he was absolutely thrilled!

“That was amazing!” 

He gasped, pushing himself upright with grass tangled in his hair and dirt smeared across one cheek. His eyes shot immediately back to the dragon—bright, excited, practically glowing.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” 

Zack said, breathless but grinning so wide his face hurt. He staggered to his feet, brushing grass from his trousers in quick, distracted swipes. The fall hadn’t discouraged him even a little. If anything, it had lit something in him… an even brighter spark of determination.

“You know what?” he said, rolling his shoulders like he was about to wrestle fate itself. “I almost stayed on.”

Almost. That meant it was possible. Zack’s grin turned downright mischievous.

“Okay, okay… round two.”

Before his brain had the chance to intervene, he jogged forward again, boots thudding against the earth as he reached for the dragon’s side. His hands found the familiar warmth of scales, and with the same reckless enthusiasm as before, he began clambering upward—using the powerful foreleg like a step, hauling himself onto the curve of the shoulder.

“Don’t move—no wait—actually you can move,” he laughed breathlessly, scrambling higher. “I just gotta figure out how to stick this time!”

He hooked a leg over the broad ridge of the dragon’s back again, chest pressed against warm scales as he wriggled into place like someone trying to sit atop the world’s largest, smoothest saddle. His arms wrapped around the dragon’s neck instinctively.

“There!” he declared proudly, though he was still slipping a little. “See? I’m learning!”

In this instance it certainly was not. The side of his mind containing reason and wisdom brought a sour cloud lingering over his head. He dreaded tomorrow, but for the night he had abnormal entertainment. Focus on that. Abnormal and surprising; the curious turn in dialogue had Reno's interest captured in a way that surprised himself. Zack, for a country bumpkin AND a beefhead, was quite introspective. Curiosity was perhaps due to his naivety, but he presented questions and information in an engaging and thought-provoking manner. Reno didn't speak immediately. Thoughts rolled around in his head, and it preceded the rolling and clicking of tongue against his teeth. Zack was asking for trouble.

(  ❛ It doesn't make things quiet for me, or sleepy, though I do eventually pass out if I get shit-faced. It gets loud inside my head. I want to yell and party and blow shit up and fuck. Finding someone to go feral with, that's a good way to unwind. ❜  )

There was no mistaking the actual words Reno said, but the Turk presented in a low, matter-of-fact voice while using the sound of the approaching train to create a wall between words and ears. Did Zack hear him correctly? Reno didn't watched his face only a few beats after speaking, then turned to the stopped train and was the first to step inside when the automated doors opened. Reno raised his hands to slap the handle bars before he sat down on the corner seats where he faced the interior of the train. He sat his thighs splayed, one foot on its side on the floor, and the other foot atop the seat next to him; he doubted Zack had wanted to sit directly next to him.

(  ❛ I smoke... ❜  )

He suddenly picked up the conversation again but waved his hand with annoyed flamboyance. There was history there that he didn't quite get into.

(  ❛ Errrr, talk with people, sometimes drink alone at my place with something playing in the background. When I can with work and all, I like the beach. ❜  )

But what did he do at Costa Del Sol? Drink, sunbathe, flirt, fuck, dance— oh yeah.

(  ❛ I like going to clubs. Drinking and dancin'. ❜  )

At first, his brain kind of… tripped over itself, like it needed a second to catch up. The words landed heavy and fast, wrapped in that low, casual tone, and for half a heartbeat, he wondered if he’d misheard—if the train, the platform, the whole damn city had swallowed some of it up. But no. He’d heard it.

His eyebrows shot up before he could stop them, eyes widening just a fraction as heat crept up the back of his neck. Not offended. Not scared. Just… surprised. Maybe more than surprised. There was something raw in the way Reno talked about it, something unapologetic and loud in a way Zack had never really allowed himself to be, at least not to that extent. Maybe he just never thought about it that way.

He stepped onto the train after him, movements a little slower this time, like his body was recalibrating. He chose a seat nearby—not directly beside, but not far either — and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, hands loosely clasped. He stared at the floor for a second, then glanced up again, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth as if he didn’t quite know what else to do with all that information.

“Wow,” he said, breathy with a laugh. “Uh… yeah. That’s definitely louder than my brain.”

His ears felt warm. He rubbed the back of his neck, but his smile stayed easy. Curious. Not retreating. He watched Reno settle in, posture loose, confident, like the train belonged to him just as much as the city did. Zack shifted his weight, bouncing his knee once before forcing it still.

“I guess that makes sense, though,” he added after a moment, voice thoughtful rather than flustered. “Different ways of blowing off steam. Yours just sounds… uh, intense.”

The train lurched into motion, lights streaking past the windows, and Zack glanced out briefly before looking back again… When Reno mentioned smoking, then beaches and clubs, Zack’s expression softened into something more reflective. He pictured it without really meaning to—sun, music, people moving without worrying about tomorrow—and felt that familiar tug of wanting to experience everything at least once. He knows he won’t like everything he tries, but still, he was curious to at least learn about others, and for some reason, Reno in particular intrigued him in a way he wasn’t used to. The closest thing would be the way he trailed after Sephiroth or Angeal like a stray puppy.

“Beach sounds nice…I don’t get out much unless it’s for work. Training kinda eats most of my free time.” He said honestly and shrugged.

“But dancing?” His grin widened, eyes brightening again. “I’m not sure if I’m great at it, but I’m enthusiastic. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

He leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms overhead before letting them drop, energy settling into something calmer but no less alive.

“Guess I’m still figuring out how to unwind... Maybe tonight’s just… step one.”

Getting an energetic puppy in uniform ridiculously intoxicated was not a goal of his. It was a question like any other, except Reno disliked the mundane formalities which regular people spat out like saliva. Who cared about the weather. Who cared about what sector someone lived in. Reno was interested in the salacious, the gritty, and certainly the abnormal, whether disgusting or soul probing. Zack Fair was playing game, so he wanted to peel the layers of his extroversion, his embarrassment, his time as a SOLDIER, his— nearly everything which was not commonplace in regular conversation. Reno also had a mental list of the things he assumed about Zack, and it was fun to go through the list and test his theories.

He was also more curious about the SOLDIERs than he would admit, but it was a fascination akin to pulling the legs off a spider and not the desire to befriend. Thoughts of roughhousing, dick measuring contests, and back stabbing circulated on his mind, yet all he witnessed was polite conversation or standard training practice. Surely it was all a front. Reno cocked his head to the side, arched a red eyebrow, and very pointedly eyed the SOLDIER up and down. Body language said it all— you, a lightweight? He thought the rural communities drank the most to erase the misery of farming, mining, and whatever else they devoted their entire lives. Body was re-positioned in its typical casual fashion, and his eyes danced around their sockets as he thought about the question. This time he wasn't viper-tongued and was more like the Reno who spent time with Rude.

(  ❛ I'll drink anything really though I'm not a hops fan. I'll drink a pitcher of beer if it's in front of me, but I won't order it. I like my drinks strong. . . ❜  )

He very nearly went to other places with that one yet continued in a normal tone of voice after picking up his concentration.

(  ❛ Dark and light liquor, shots of 'em, but mixed cocktails are fun. Something tropical. Something creamy. Something coffee-like. Go to though? Shots of vodka, rum, bourbon. ❜  )

The normalcy the Turk donned was dropped with the completion of his rant, and cat-like grin spread wide and easily on his face as if the previous him had been a doppelganger of his.

(  ❛ I like drinking A LOT. I like getting drunk. ❜  )

And this was the part where someone either made assumptions about his liver, or they aimed to get him drunk and . . forgetful. The elevator's hum slowed to eventual silence when the first floor was reached. Smooth and precise. Nothing beat ShinRa technology. Reno had already pushed himself off the wall before the landing and was the first to step through the opened doors. From there it was only a few meters to the front doors. A security guarded nodded to them both. Another security guard and two entering office workers looked at them before quickly looking away. An odd pair they made there was no no doubt especially with Reno in his gym clothes. The Turk walked backwards with a confidence of an idiot or of a man who walked the same route every single day. Clearly it was the latter.

(  ❛ Don't worry that spiky head of yours. I'm not about liquid dinners. We're getting something that'll bring up your body fat percentage. ❜  )

Tongue clicked against the back of his teeth, and turned back around to face forward when smooth slate turned into the brick steps leading to the bullet train. There was no formal station, just a waiting dock with benches and a roof overhang where other ShinRa employees waited for the next train's arrival. Fortunately the trains ran fast, and a distant rumbling announced the next train's arrival before the loud speaker announcement.

(  ❛ Slum food, or something a bit nicer. Y'know, something not wrapped in butchered monster guts? ❜  )

He followed out of the elevator without hesitation, offering a quick, polite nod to security and a friendly smile to anyone who happened to glance their way. The contrast between them wasn’t lost on him—Reno sharp and effortless, Zack bright and unmistakably SOLDIER—but he didn’t feel awkward about it. If anything, it made the whole thing feel kind of exciting, like stepping into unfamiliar territory with good footing.... When Reno joked about not doing liquid dinners, Zack laughed, an easy sound that slipped out without thought.

“Good,” he said lightly. “I’d be useless tomorrow if that was the plan. I still gotta train—can’t show up hungover and embarrass myself.”

Outside, the cooler air hit his face, and he inhaled deeply, shoulders loosening as the day finally started to feel done. He walked with that familiar bounce, energy still buzzing but no longer restless. As they neared the platform, he glanced around at the waiting ShinRa employees, then back again, his expression thoughtful but still warm.

He didn’t ask his next question right away. Instead, he rocked back on his heels, gaze lifting toward the tracks as the distant rumble of the train began to build. Then he looked back over, eyes bright with genuine interest rather than caution. Would Reno still be interested in hanging out even if Zack wasn't much of a drinker? He scratched lightly at his jaw, then suddenly asked...

“Why do you like getting drunk?” He laughed softly, not judgmental, just curious. “Is it just ‘cause it’s fun? Or ‘cause it makes things quieter for a bit?”

Zack shrugged, still smiling, tone open and honest.

“I mean, for me, stuff usually stays loud up here.” He tapped the side of his head once. “Even on my days off, I’m thinking about training or missions or what I could’ve done better. Drinking just makes me goofy, not exactly relaxed, or maybe sometimes it does if you consider getting super sleepy...”

The train’s lights appeared down the track, and Zack straightened, energy lifting again as it approached. He glanced back, grin returning full force.

“So yeah, if you’ve got the secret to actually unwinding, I’m all ears. I could use a new trick, though not sure I’ll ever get used to the taste.” 

It was a sick game. Would someone get pissed off, would someone turn to violence? Any reaction was better than apathy. He hated stoic people. People who barely lived a life despite being y'know alive. People more stuck up than Heidegger or old man ShinRa that their shit must have been compacted for more than a month. Funny enough, he ended up liking and being partners with a very stoic man. Rude had been a pain in the ass, then a tough nut to crack, then . . his most trusted co-worker and friend. A challenge he loved because Rude wasn't actually a stick-in-the-mud, and the micro expressions he displayed were almost like secrets that Reno was privy. Rude was the exception, and Zack's reactions were the goal. Just how far could Reno push him? Ahhh, it was fun.

(  ❛ Don't fill up on snacks. I won't be gone too long. ❜  )

Reno gestured, too, before turning for the elevator which took him down to the training floor where his locker was located. Truth be told, he did put more hurry in his movements than he normally would have. He was hungry and dirty, but he was also excited to continue playing around with the pup. So, needless to say, once he was at the locker room, Reno stripped down and took enough of a shower to clean the sweat, grime, and sand of of him. It wasn't much considering the desert rain did some of the work, but he still scrubbed, jumped out, dried, and dressed himself in his clean set of training clothes.

His hair was left untouched because that would've been a whole damn thing. He was still a little damp but hey, he had a date. Deodorant and one spritz of cologne, and Reno was jogging back to the elevators. He never wore his gym clothes out of the training room, so it was a little odd— clad in compression leggings, shorts, long sleeve ( and skin tight ) shirt, and training shoes all in shades of charcoal grey and black. He found Zack right where he left him. With fingers brushing through red spikes that definitely needed some care, Reno casually marched up to the SOLDIER with a smirk twisting his lips.

(  ❛ Alright, I'm starving. ❜  )

Let's go, boy very nearly flew out of his lips, but Reno played . . nice. He gestured Zack to follow him though the SOLDIER needed no guidance to elevators he was surely familiar with. The Turk watched the city lights dance off the glass of the elevator and the way it reflected off Zack's body as well. Not half way down Reno cut the silence with a probing question and more a probing gaze.

(  ❛ Ever get wasted on your free time? ❜  )

Still, his attention kept drifting to the elevator.

He glanced around the empty lounge, then back again, drumming his fingers once on the armrest before forcing himself to stop. Play it cool, he reminded himself. No need to look like he was counting seconds. He shifted forward instead, elbows on his knees, gaze roaming the room as if something fascinating might suddenly appear. He is just about to take out his phone when the elevator doors slide open again. Zack looked up immediately—then pretended he hadn’t been watching so closely. He pushed himself to his feet, posture straightening on instinct, a bright smile already tugging at his mouth.

For a moment, he allows himself to just stare at Reno, watching him come closer. Zack felt that awareness settle in his chest again, warm and a little fluttery, and he rolled his shoulders to shake it off.

“Hey,” he greeted easily, grin widening when Reno announced he was starving. “Good timing, I’m starving too!”

He fell into step beside him without thinking, long strides matching pace as they headed toward the elevators. The ride down felt strangely quiet, the hum of the machinery filling the space where conversation might’ve gone. Zack rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes flicking briefly to the mirrored walls and then away again.

When Reno finally broke the silence with that question, Zack blinked, surprised, before laughing softly.

“Wasted?” He echoed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… not really? I mean, I’ve had a drink or two. Mostly with the guys after training. But I’m kinda lightweight.”

He smiled, sheepish but honest, glancing sideways with an easy openness that hadn’t dimmed since the desert.

“I’m more of a ‘one beer and a lot of bad jokes’ kind of guy... Guess I like remembering the night the day after… What about you? What is your go-to drink?”

He was fully prepared for Reno to brush him off—maybe with a laugh, maybe with an insult—but when the redhead tossed back an easy sure, Zack’s eyes flew wide. His head snapped toward him so fast it might’ve counted as its own injury. A stunned blink, then a bright grin bloomed across his face, surprise tucked behind it as best he could manage.

It wasn’t that Zack liked everyone—he didn’t. But he did tend to get along with most people. One of his fellow SOLDIERs once called him “annoyingly charming,” and honestly? Zack couldn’t even argue. He liked making people laugh, liked cheering them up, liked easing tension even when he was exhausted or hurting. People who hated fun tended to hate him, but that was their problem.

Reno, though… Reno was different. Playful, but sharp-edged. Reckless, but deliberate. Comfortable in chaos in a way Zack had never seen. Maybe that was what intrigued him so much. Or maybe it was the fact that Reno was one of the single most gorgeous men Zack had ever seen… second only to Sephiroth, and barely at that. Zack quickly brushes those thoughts away like pesky flies.

When the helicopter finally landed, Zack was the first to hop off, boots hitting the pavement with a relieved thud. He didn’t even get the chance to toss another word Reno’s way before he was herded off for a full medical check. Thankfully, his injuries were minor. A few cuts, some scrapes, a bruise forming along his rib, but nothing major. They cleaned him up fast, gave him a hot shower, and a change of comfortable lounge clothes. The moment he was cleared, he was out the door, hair still damp, determined to track down Reno and make sure he was okay. Burgers could wait if the Turk wasn’t up for it.

He didn’t expect to be found first.

At the sound of Reno’s voice behind him, Zack jolted like a puppy caught stealing from the kitchen counter.

“Yeah! And you? Feeling better?” 

He asked, instinctively flashing a grin as he turned, giving the redhead a quick but thorough once-over. Shifting his weight, fingers brushing the back of his neck.

 “Still up for that burger and, uh…that shot?”

Eyes of a trained operative. Eyes of a killer. Eyes of a flirt didn't mess a single thing, so his mind to himself, and such a self-assessment was validating when he did pick up a little behaviour. Had the SOLDIER actually planned on leaving without Reno, if so why did it look like he was roaming the halls? As much as Reno wanted to get inside the other man's head, he allowed his thoughts to come down to a simmer. You don't need to overanalyze everything. He shoved his hands inside the clean pockets of the sweats he was wearing and was reminded he was both without underwear and without a shower, while the the optimistic SOLDIER looked fresh in several ways.

Maybe he didn't get his ass chewed out for the failure of the mission and would he? Reno merely assumed SOLDIER, what with being headed by Sephiroth, would be a strict circle jerk of power and accomplishment. They were alive and home, so he discarded thoughts of his own incoming punishment and redirecting his train of thought toward the positive. Puppy dog smiles and liquor — the positive, apparently. It was humorous considering how anti animals Reno was; a fact that would surely surface after a few shots of anything alcoholic entered his system. Reno's fingers moved through red spikes which certainly lacked their usual luster. Being in the ShinRa building without his trademark goggles attached to his head felt odd as well.

(  ❛ Could use a massage and a trip to the spa but much better, yeah. ❜  )

He decided not to be weird and answered plainly. Of course for Reno, even plain speech was peppered with his casual, almost effortless state of existing. Again those turquoise eyes zoomed in on all of those little mannerism which made Zack Fair Zack, as Reno came to know. Why the need to look away as colour stained his cheeks he had no idea. It was suddenly depressing that such an innocent person could get mixed up with ShinRa and the SOLDIER program of all things. Reno breathed out loudly and unconsciously scratched his dick through the pocket of the sweats.

(  ❛ I didn't get the chance to shower or anythin'. This ain't even mine. Mind waiting for me to clean up? I don't care if ya' just want to go though. Up to you. ❜  )

Reno did get impatient when he was hungry or frustrated or any time. Cleaning up meant going down to the locker room of the gymnasium, and Reno was fucking hungry and tired. The sweat suit he was wearing wasn't entirely dorky, but he did feel off wearing clothes that weren't his own. Boring grey on grey as if he was the poster boy for ShinRA. HA! Reno of all people, imagine! The redhead clicked his tongue against his teeth and waited.

Still, part of him hoped he’d done well enough that they’d keep sending him out on missions—maybe even some with Sephiroth someday. The idea alone made his chest tighten with something like excitement.

Then there it was again—that look from Reno. Sharp. Appraising. Almost predatory. As if he were about to pounce at any moment.

Zack tried to be indifferent about it, head tilting slightly as though trying to figure out whether he should be flattered or worried. Maybe both. He kept telling himself Reno probably looked at everyone like that… but it didn’t stop the shiver that tickled its way down his spine. Not a bad shiver—just one that made him very aware of the Turk’s presence. And maybe a tiny part of him wondered what he’d do if Reno actually did pounce. He told himself he could handle it. Yeah. Probably. Hopefully.

He tried to find a balance between not staring too much and not looking away so quickly that he seemed awkward. The fact that Reno hadn’t blown him off and was actually willing to hang out with him even after their disaster of a mission made Zack’s heart lift in a way he tried very hard to downplay. But it was obvious he was happy. Probably too obvious.

“I don’t mind waiting for you. Don’t have anything else going on today anyway. I’ll just be, uh… over here.”

The sound of the helicopter blades acted like white noise to Reno. He would have preferred to be in the cockpit but being inside the vehicle brought forth a sensation of relaxation. Of course being injured and knowing they were headed back to Midgar added another level of comfort. Reno wasn't ready to doze off however; he was surrounded by judgmental assholes ( yeah, he was convinced ) and Zack was proving to be decent company. A nudge to Reno, and those gemstone eyes were watching the disheveled puppy. Now that they were actually being rescued, the sound of a burger did not appear all that enticing, like feasting on old peanuts when there was caviar to be had.

Reno had never been shy or boyish, at least not where memory recollected, yet he recognized it with ease. Over the sounds of the pilot conversing, the engine, and the blades, it almost passed his hearing. Reno's brow furrowed as he studied the man who had helped him. He probably didn't have any friends in Midgar, and who knew what the SOLDIERs really got up to with their free time. Perhaps they were testosterone filled degenerates. Zack certainly was not however. As Reno studied him, the ShinRa medic looked between the two men before rolling his eyes. It wasn't his business. They would be touching the helipad at ShinRa HQ in less than an hour. As long as nothing happened. . .

(  ❛ Yeah, sure. Let's get some shots with it though. ❜  )

In an hour or two, would Zack Puppy Fair remain interested being around a very profane mouth? Reno knew his worth, yet he also knew he was an acquired taste. Even Rude, his partner and best friend, had initially disliked Reno and vice versa. The barely dressed Turk stretched in the medic's cot while refraining from making a noise of pain. He shut his eyes just for a little bit, and before he knew it hands on the triage cot jolted him awake. Eyes didn't need to see the city to know they were in Midgar safe and sound. Thank Ifrit's balls. He was being loaded out when Reno sat up, hissed with pain, and shooed away helping hands. He wasn't handicapped! Of course he required the medic to wrap an arm around his waist, but damn it if Reno didn't hobble his way out of the rooftop helicopter pad and to the elevator.

He had seen Zack's spiky hair at some point. The rest of the 3rd Class SOLDIERs were gone as well. A long and quiet descent with the medic was less than ideal, but within the minute Reno was being poked and prodded in the medical wing of headquarters. An injection of this, healing materia, some swabs, and Reno was feeling nearly brand new. Of course a recommendation came from one of the doctors that Reno avoid strenuous activity ( fat chance ) and seek some physical relaxation. Doctor appointed spa; he liked that very much. He was given a change of clothes as well, since he didn't quite feel like going to the locker rooms for his spare change of post-workout clothing. In the mirror, Reno fussed with his hair much to the dismay of the doctors and nurses.

Shouldn't they have been used to his antics? Reno wearing ShinRa sweats a little too large stepped out of the medical wing. He looked left and right, then he groaned. He moved down the hall and took the elevator to the level where the Turk's offices were located. Luckily neither Tseng or Verdot were around to chew his ass out; that would come the following day. In the shared office, he grabbed his mobile device where he had left it and turned on the device as he walked out. Ten new messages. Great. He let out a tired sigh which died in his throat when that familiar head of spiky black hair came into view. The puppy looked a little lost. Reno shoved his phone into the pocket of the grey sweatpants, and he strolled like a leopard up to no good toward the SOLDIER.

(  ❛ Did ya' clean that sand out of your... crevices? ❜  )

He was fully prepared for Reno to brush him off—maybe with a laugh, maybe with an insult—but when the redhead tossed back an easy sure, Zack’s eyes flew wide. His head snapped toward him so fast it might’ve counted as its own injury. A stunned blink, then a bright grin bloomed across his face, surprise tucked behind it as best he could manage.

It wasn’t that Zack liked everyone—he didn’t. But he did tend to get along with most people. One of his fellow SOLDIERs once called him “annoyingly charming,” and honestly? Zack couldn’t even argue. He liked making people laugh, liked cheering them up, liked easing tension even when he was exhausted or hurting. People who hated fun tended to hate him, but that was their problem.

Reno, though… Reno was different. Playful, but sharp-edged. Reckless, but deliberate. Comfortable in chaos in a way Zack had never seen. Maybe that was what intrigued him so much. Or maybe it was the fact that Reno was one of the single most gorgeous men Zack had ever seen… second only to Sephiroth, and barely at that. Zack quickly brushes those thoughts away like pesky flies.

When the helicopter finally landed, Zack was the first to hop off, boots hitting the pavement with a relieved thud. He didn’t even get the chance to toss another word Reno’s way before he was herded off for a full medical check. Thankfully, his injuries were minor. A few cuts, some scrapes, a bruise forming along his rib, but nothing major. They cleaned him up fast, gave him a hot shower, and a change of comfortable lounge clothes. The moment he was cleared, he was out the door, hair still damp, determined to track down Reno and make sure he was okay. Burgers could wait if the Turk wasn’t up for it.

He didn’t expect to be found first.

At the sound of Reno’s voice behind him, Zack jolted like a puppy caught stealing from the kitchen counter.

“Yeah! And you? Feeling better?” 

He asked, instinctively flashing a grin as he turned, giving the redhead a quick but thorough once-over. Shifting his weight, fingers brushing the back of his neck.

 “Still up for that burger and, uh…that shot?”

precisely as expected , urgency and excitement took the physical form of a human man , and though sephiroth was a massive creature he could hear that thrilling panting overcoming the human. massive ears for a massive hunter , but perhaps the great beast was imagining it — what it would feel like to be completely enthralled by a singular thing. some amusement was born as he watched and heard what the human had to offer. very much like watching a newborn fawn view the world for all it is beauties and not yet the horrors. sephiroth was not a nurturing creature but just then he felt something beyond the ordinary. it could have been ego, yes . . or sephiroth was also delighted to meet him , a dragonrider.

it was difficult to decipher in that very instance what the dragon was feeling because unlike the human , he had never dreamed of meeting a dragonrider nor was his life filled with any sort of longing. deep down it was a farce for all creatures even those solitary wished for companionship or a mate. dragons existed without dragonriders while dragonriders were simply human without those majestic creatures. of all the humans roaming the planet of course it the was the boy who so dutifully tended to the isle and who looked so absolutely jubilant. it warmed his heart to a degree but caution was not gifted to the wind , and despite what he may have felt a dragon's face made for excellent bluffing.

serene he appeared. regal above all.

while the human was a static ball of merriment and smiles. no one had ever smiled at sephiroth. it was strange going from complete solitude and secrecy to openly amusing a human's fascinations. and how bold the human continued to act! he spoke from the heart and for that sephiroth could fault him not. however he assumed prematurely that bond between dragon and rider was set and done. there were other dragons in history , those that refused any rider , who would have turned a man to ash for just as much. fortunately sephiroth was not cruel. fortunately sephiroth was lonely without really knowing but curious above all.

this connection felt warm in a way which hummed in his brain like waking up to the sun's full might. thus as prideful as the creature may have been , he did not snap from the unasked touch. the human was brave and perhaps stupid and perhaps in a sort of love. but was it A fascination or where they meant to be dragon and his rider? there was too much sephiroth did not know , however like all living creatures he , too , felt instinct. it kept him alive for centuries and it brought him to the human this day ; the previous day had only been foolish emotion.

sephiroth blinked slowly as he looked at this dwarfed human while hearing his words and hearing what instinct or magic was telling him. i feel like i've known you forever. what an odd creature. one full of hope ; sephiroth had known this for all the years he watched him — zack. of course in his dragon form sephiroth could not respond but would he have . . did he wish to answer for that matter? was this zack expecting a response? sephiroth craned his massive head to the side and blinked at the boy before he dropped his head to gaze inquisitively at his company. could zack feel what sephiroth was feeling?

He’d expected many things—maybe a growl, a shift of wings, the dragon simply flying away again—but not… this. Not the great creature lowering his head until it rested atop one massive forelimb, the weight of his skull settling into the earth with a thrum Zack could feel in his bones. Not the slow blink—heavy lids drawing down over eyes that had held the sky itself in their depths. Not the quiet, unbothered confidence of a creature inviting presence without a single word.

It stole Zack’s breath more effectively than any roar.

He stood very still, his heart fluttering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The realization that the dragon wasn’t going to just disappear hit him like a tidal wave. Feeling overwhelmed but also relieved. He took a tentative step forward. Then another. The dragon didn’t stir.

Zack swallowed, eyes darting from the creature’s folded wings to the gentle rise and fall of his breath. Even relaxed, he was enormous, and Zack felt as small as a mouse beside him—yet somehow, that smallness wasn’t frightening. It felt right. Natural. Like fitting into a space he hadn’t known was meant for him. 

He moved slowly to the side of the dragon’s massive head, close enough now that he could see the subtle shifts of color across each scale, shimmering almost. His hand hovered uncertainly. 

“I… I don’t want to bother you,” he murmured, cheeks warm. “I just want to learn. To understand you. If you’ll let me.”

The only answer was another slow breath, deep and steady—almost a sigh. A patient one. Maybe even amused. Zack’s smile tugged wider. Okay. That was permission… wasn’t it? He eased closer until he could finally… finally rest both hands gently along the side of the dragon’s jaw. The heat beneath the scales pulsed against his palms, steady and alive. Zack exhaled shakily, overwhelmed by the sheer realness of it, the power humming just beneath that smooth, impossibly strong exterior.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, voice catching with emotion he didn’t quite have the words for.

His hands slid down the curve of the jaw until he stood so close his shoulder brushed warm scales. Something inside him—bravery, foolishness, instinct—pushed him further. With a shaky exhale, he leaned forward, stretching his arms as far as they could reach, and…hugged the dragon’s head.

Zack didn’t know if it was stupid or presumptuous. Or utterly insane. He just knew it felt right. Like his heart had been waiting for this warmth, this presence, this wordless acceptance—his entire life. He pressed his cheek against the smooth scales, hands splayed wide, eyes falling shut as the bond pulsed once more beneath his skin, bright and sure.

If the dragon had wanted him off, he could have flicked his head and sent Zack sailing into the trees. Zack was aware that he could still do that and should be careful, but despite knowing he could very well be risking his life being so close to a dragon, he couldn’t seem to pull away. If anything, he just wanted to be closer, to learn everything there was to learn about the beautiful dragon before him. 

When he finally does pull back, it's only to admire the dragon some more and trail his hands over more of the dragon’s scales, along its neck and down one of the dragon’s legs to its claws. Zack walks around the whole dragon, gently touching here and there, clambering over its tail to get to the other side faster, only to repeat his inspection until he is once again in front of the dragon. He runs both hands down the scales one more time before then, just leaning his forehead against the dragon’s side, smiling to himself

“Thanks for not eating me.” He jokes with a wide grin.

Did the grump even appreciate it, what the rest of them could only attain through technology? Reno could have gotten high on the rush of endorphins filling his brain. He wouldn't be rotting away in the desert to face a long and gruesome following day. It's not that he didn't have hope they would be scooped up and, at least, finish part of their mission, but it would be a truly terrible trial, Zack or no. As bruised as the Turk's ego was, and soon to be severely battered, he didn't push away the offered help from both men. What were they thinking? Oh, look, the veteran Turk got injured, but Zack Fair was fine. The redhead was truly unhinged. Riding high because he was saved prematurely while simultaneously being pissed off that Zack was flaunting his perfect body.

The Turk's face was wrinkled with displeasure, but anyone could have just blamed his injuries. Despite the help and the presence of the medic, Reno still put forth his energy to not look like a useless muppet. He walked with them, and he sure as hell hauled himself up to the helicopter . . partially. Reno would put forth any effort to not look like a whining bitch even if it foolishly handicapped him. He had to, absolutely had to cling to any scrap of pride, however his odd sweet-and-sour mood didn't get in the way of much needed yapping.

(  ❛ What, d'ya' get sand in your dick hole? ❜  )

Again the medic didn't give them anything. When compared to his usual company, it was like Reno was right at home at the Turks office. Partially strapped in and with the medic going over his body as though Reno was some sort of pin cushion, the redhead angled his head to spy on the 3rd Class SOLDIERs guarding the doors of the helicopter. They knew the area was hostile but still they decided on a premature evacuation. Question is, who ordered it? That and other questions were best saved for when they touched ground at headquarters. For the moment, he craned his head to look at Zack's stupid happy face. What did the punk think?! Idiot. Cute moron. He spoke like he carried the whole fucking weight of the assignment on his shoulders. Sure, he did carry Reno, but it rubbed the egotistical Turk the wrong way.

(  ❛ Yeah . . and I'm gettin' drunk and laid tonight. What me to get your laid as some sort of reward? ❜  )

He knew the SOLDIER pup would stammer and reject his co-workers words, however he allowed his mind to wander. Fat chance he would ever accept but what if.

Still… he could feel warmth creep up the back of his neck, that little flutter of bashful embarrassment that came from getting hit with something he wasn’t expecting. He tried not to smile… Too late. A small huff of a laugh escaped him, soft and incredulous. He shook his head, eyes dropping for a heartbeat before lifting again, warm and bright despite the teasing shove.

“Man…” he murmured, rubbing the side of his neck sheepishly. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

His voice wasn’t scolding—just amused and a touch shy. He shifted in his seat, boots braced on the floor as the helicopter jolted. His gaze drifted to the desert fading away beneath them, then back to the redhead slouched beside him. It lingered—longer than he meant it to—drawn by the exhaustion tugging at him, the bruises, the stubborn fire still burning behind those eyes even now.

Zack exhaled, light and a little bashful, and nudged the edge of his boot against Reno’s—barely there, just a tap. His fingers fidgeted with the strap on his thigh guard, a nervous energy with nowhere to go. He wasn’t exactly flirting, but something hovered close to it. Too soft, too sincere, too warm to be anything else, even if Zack didn’t realize it. He met Reno’s eyes again, steady this time.

“Honestly? I’m just glad we’re both getting outta here in one piece. That’s enough reward for me.”

The rotors thundered above them, wind rattling through the open side doors. Zack’s shoulders finally eased, tension bleeding out now that adrenaline wasn’t holding him upright. His grin softened, losing its edge.

“…But hey,” he added, a touch shy, almost boyishly hopeful, “if you still want that burger later… I’m not gonna say no.”

it was not trouble which found the creature in slumber but something did find and capture him. a spider's sticky web of consciousness. while any winged creature would thrash against the hold , he succumbed to the trip his mind— offered rather forced. he always dreamt of the past or what his imagination perceived was the past. hot dragon breath , the isle nursing dozen of dragon eggs , winged silhouettes dominating the skies. that night he dreamt of . . the present and the possible future. the clamour of voices , banners holding the dragon insignia , and distinct hands touching scales and scaled and then nude bare flesh. when the warmth and light of dawn woke him a grogginess bubbled inside his mind like gasses erupting in swamp waters. definitely unpleasant.

unlike gaseous bodies of water rich with vegetation and nutrients , waking anything except refreshed was the oddity. sephiroth was not one to jump to any brash conclusions ; he knew the events of the previous day were responsible for the quality of his dreams and sleep. how long before bandits , empires , and pirates came searching for him? how long before the villagers would come to either dread his existence or beg for his aid at the smallest of inconvenience? ultimately — what was power if not applied to the world? sephiroth snorted a long and heated breath strong enough to stir bushes and shrubs while silencing insects.

birds and small mammals kept clear from him as he , unusually , remained in his bed of grasses well past dawn. it was utterly boring just lying about when the day was ripe for movement. a warm breeze danced in the sky like a finger , or a claw , urging him to seize the day. sephiroth appeared more like a wolf pup fresh out the den than a gigantic dragon in the way he slowly rose to the four trunks of his legs. as if to distract from reality and the eventuality of the future , sephiroth continued his lumbering morning rise by preening the scales of his front legs he was capable of reaching. hawks crying in the distance mocked him. no , sephiroth was imagining things.

he cursed his well-developed brain and how it continued to conjure image and thought one after the other. did deer or beetles think as he , as humans did? adamantly he marched to the slope of the mountain where he used the sharp angle as a literal jumping off point. sephiroth allowed his elegant body to fall with wings tucked like a shooting star , then his wings shot out and the lift created took him soaring back high. the day was spent flying , hunting , and bathing in a land bound body of water which became something of a second home to him. it was like any other day except it was the exact opposite. he was thinking and thinking too much. thinking of what was to come but more importantly his thoughts were consumed over the dragon rider.

dragons were not possession and were not meant to be ridden , but there was an unspoken symbiosis between dragon and dragon rider though not all of either class were equal. not all who were dragon riders could ride a dragon like sephiroth , and not all dragons liked being ridden regardless of the human. it was his longing for ancestry which drove him mad , yet when he really thought about it , not any dragon rider could capture his mind as the young human did. dedication , kindness and empathy made the human unique. sephiroth couldn't shake the sensation of their first official meeting out of his mind. after eating and swimming , sephiroth , the great beast , returned to the dragon isle and was . . surprised the human had not returned.

he had been so eager even by remaining well-past the sunset. he had expected the human to be at the isle by morning. perhaps he had desired it. it was ridiculous and foolish. sephiroth did not desire , and most of all he did not wait except for the changing seasons. thought . . what else had he do but bathe in sun shine? where isle vegetation grew thick into trees , he lied hidden from plain view and relaxed. lizards bathed in much the same way where rock sat uncovered on the isle. dragons were apex predators , so the sound of incoming company did not evade his senses. the dragon , with lids shut over eyes still , waited until the presence made itself known. the dragon rider.

“So you are here,” he breathed.

He started toward the sound, boots brushing through grass and fallen leaves, every step drawn by that invisible pull humming faintly beneath his ribs. The air felt different as he neared the Isle—charged, alive, and almost as if everything around him was just as excited as him. The forest opened before him, and there, half-shrouded in dappled light…was the dragon. Zack stopped dead in his tracks. The creature lay stretched across the earth like a mountain that had chosen to rest. Sunlight spilled over scales of silver and pale steel, gleaming like tempered armor. The air shimmered faintly around him, heavy with warmth and so many different sensations, feelings, and senses he couldn’t quite grasp yet. Zack couldn’t move for a long moment. His throat was dry, his heart loud in his ears. It wasn’t the kind of beauty he could comprehend—it was the kind that demanded reverence. The kind that rewrote the air. When he finally remembered to breathe, it came out as a quiet, awed laugh.

 “You’re real, you’re really real!"

The more he stood there in the dragon’s presence, the more grounded he felt. Like something he’s been missing just clicked. As if the world finally made sense. He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze for a moment—not in submission, exactly, but in respect..

 “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just… needed to see you again. To make sure it wasn’t a dream.”

The dragon didn’t move. He didn’t need to. The air between them vibrated faintly, like a plucked string. Zack could feel it—something alive and wordless, threading through his chest. He placed a hand over his heart instinctively, where that strange warmth pulsed strongest.

“You feel that too, don’t you? Whatever this is…”

Zack hoped he wasn’t just going crazy, wasn’t just so excited that he was creating something out of nothing. He took a careful step closer. Then another. Standing right before the dragon. Zack knew. Not how, not why, but simply knew. That they were connected. That something ancient and quiet had woken the night the dragon touched his soul. Zack stopped a few paces away, his voice hushed, reverent.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said, almost to himself. “But I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Slowly, as though guided by something greater than courage, he lifted a hand and extended it toward the dragon. The air between them shimmered faintly. His fingertips brushed the edge of a scale, smooth, warm, alive. It wasn’t just touch. It was like… communion.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, Zack felt everything... the earth beneath them, the wind around them, the endless sky above... and through it all, the presence of the dragon, vast and uncontainable. It filled him without consuming him.. It was shocking enough that he pulled his hand back, but he didn’t pull back far. Only to make sure the dragon was okay with his proximity. After a moment of just admiring the beautiful dragon, he clears his throat and speaks again.

“My name is Zack. I was wondering uh, have you always been here or where did you come from?” 

One did not crush the other, and one did not suffocate the other. Simply, it was nice. Amusingly nice. In fact it made Reno smirk, but it was a pale, almost anemic thing compared to the cocky expression he typically donned even in slumber. Truthfully, Reno didn't feel as bad as the worried puppy deemed. Had he never been in war? No, of course he had not; Zack was likely younger than the Turk. Reno had never been in an actual war, but he had been stabbing people by the age of ten. He had been beaten, tortured, left for dead, and loathed by both of his parents. Well, that was life.

Well, that was being in the desert with a man he had never worked with previously. Damn, he was cute. Fuck was the boy doing in SOLDIER dirtying his hands with bloody ShinRa work? ShinRa was meant for the savages whether the employees chose to believe it. It was not Reno's place to rip a valued employee from ShinRa's bloodstained blood soaked fingers, not when the Turk's fingers were the ones holding onto the naïve country boy. His fingers on Zack, and Zack's fingers on him. A dry chuckle was produced as his hands left the SOLDIER's wrists.

(  ❛ It's just the desert heat and the fire. I'm fine. Who knows better than me? ❜  )

Reno must have been delirious though, for thoughts were suddenly filled with images of treating the young pup to a nice reward. A kiss to shut his concerned mouth. Country boy probably never kissed anything but a chocobo or a pet rabbit. He knew he was delirious because those images were appealing. Another dry chuckle came out, and Reno recoiled like a cat receiving too much attention. He pressed his palms to the stone ground of the cave to lay down; perhaps a rough ground would help the ache in his back. Doubtful.

(  ❛  Listen here, newbie. I've had my teeth bashed in. My knuckles smashed. My—. ❜  )

He stopped short. Only his partner was privy to private information and even then the bald man had never received a history book regarding the redhead. It wasn't deeply personal, but it could quickly go down a teeth and blood littered drain. He wanted a soft bed, a stiff drink, and maybe something warm and stiff beside him. Zack didn't have the chance to coddle him nor did Reno have the opportunity to quell concerns with stories or a smirk lacking finness. The storm was gone but not the excitement. Natural wind died and born was the wind forced for revolving blades. There was nothing stealthy about helicopters, and that was probably a dominant reason Reno licked piloting them— LOUD.

There was no mistaking it for anything else, and the poor bastard tweaked his damn back as he whipped around to get a better look outside the mouth of the cave. He hissed out with displeasure and something in his mind went fuzzy. On his belly, Reno's knuckles turned white against the stone. Fuckfuckfuck. Did they have to run or scramble back into the heart of the cave? Even if they did retreat, the fire acted like a beacon, similar to the ShinRa headquarters building. Think fast. Think fast! There was a boulder in his stomach acting like an anchor. Adrenaline was slowly climbing, climbing, and climbing. Then, with the helicopter hovering over the desert with search light like a vigilant eye, Reno recognized it. The dread inside of him softened. It did not die away completely, not until the circulating helicopter grew close enough that the Turk recognized the ShinRa logo on the side of the doors.

(  ❛ Ah. . . HA! Look! ❜  )

They were not going to spend a miserable night in the desert after all. Reno could have run out of the cave like a mad hell-cat except . . the obvious. Help was coming and Reno was almost completely naked. Shiiit. He looked down at his chest and then over at Zack. Gingerly he moved to his knees while suffocating a groan of pain as thoughts ran like a rushing river inside his brain.

(  ❛ Run out there and make sure they see you! It's ShinRa! ❜  )

He didn't have the time to question why search and rescue was coming; their helicopter was not scheduled to arrive until noon the next day. Reno used the time to hobble over to the back of the cave like some sort of pathetic and hobbled tortoise. It was fine; no one was looking. Not yet. He scraped his knees bloody and grainy reaching the gut of the cave whereupon he donned his rain-soaked shirt and trousers, though he bothered not with his blazer or socks or shoes. His lip bled with the penetration of teeth into flesh as the Turk forced himself to his feet. There was no fucking way they would catch him crawling over like a worm. He was weakened. That was all. Slowly but surely, using the walls of the cave as a life-line, he maneuvered out of the cave. The helicopter had touched down on the sand with blades still circulating, and three masked 3rd Class gunners stepped out from the helicopter with weapons on the ready just in case. He would have that soft bed and stiff drink tonight after all.

When Reno muttered that he was fine, Zack didn’t buy it for a second. Still, Zack held his tongue and gave him a half-smile, the kind that said “Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.” He figured arguing would only make the guy more stubborn. Turks were like that, right? Professional pains in the asses with good suits and worse habits.

He was about to inch a little closer just enough to lend some warmth when something in Reno’s expression stopped him cold. For a split second, the Turk’s eyes flickered with something Zack couldn’t name, something that made the back of his neck prickle. Then, just as quickly, Reno snapped at him. Zack blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “You really don’t like being taken care of, huh?” he almost said—but before he could, the world outside shifted. That noise. That wasn’t the storm.

Zack’s head jerked toward the cave mouth, and his whole body lit up with energy. His instincts kicked in before his thoughts did. He shot to his feet, heart pounding in excitement. 

“That’s—wait, that’s us!”

Reno barely had time to bark an order before Zack was moving. 

“You got it!” 

He shouted over his shoulder, already sprinting toward the cave’s opening. The wind from the approaching helicopter whipped against him, carrying sand and grit that stung his skin, but he hardly noticed. He was too busy waving his arms and yelling like a man possessed, grinning through the chaos. The searchlight caught him full in the face, bright as midday, and Zack threw an arm up to shield his eyes, but the sound of the rotors was the sweetest thing he’d heard all night. The chopper tilted in acknowledgment, angling toward the cave. He laughed, adrenaline fizzing in his chest. He turned back toward the firelit shadow behind him—Reno, stubbornly upright, half-dressed, and still managing to look like trouble even bleeding and bruised. Zack rushed back, breathless with energy. 

“We’re saved!” he said, flashing that sunny grin. “Guess we do get to have that burger after all, huh?”

Without waiting for permission, he slipped an arm around Reno’s waist and hauled him up, careful but firm. They didn’t make it far before a medic rushed in from the mouth of the cave, shouting orders over the roar of the helicopter. Sand whipped around them in biting gusts. The medic grabbed Reno’s free arm, steadying him, while another checked Zack with a quick sweep of their eyes. “Any serious injuries, SOLDIER?” Zack shook his head, grin still wide despite the fatigue creeping in. 

“Nah, I’m fine,” he said, voice bright, almost teasing. “Just sand in places I didn’t know sand could go.”

The medic didn’t laugh, and Zack almost pouted… He forced a chuckle under his breath as they were led toward the waiting chopper, his hand still steady at Reno’s back.

 “Told you, man,” he said quietly, flashing him another grin. “No one’s dying on my watch.”

a new kind of life entered the world , and it was not the birthing of a new dragon , but it was special all the same. a birth similar to a new draconoid cracking shell to take first breath ; it was the union of dragon and dragon ridder. and was the human aware of the generational power lying inside his veins? for this human acted so boldly as if the great silver beast was his. no fear nor trepidation was found within footing. any hesitation present was pure thrill ; sephiroth did not require his human form nor years among the humans to feel it. as thunder rolling brought excitement to severely droughted lands , the thundering pace of the boy's heart signaled glee.

the tremendous and gloriously beautiful dragon could have bared ivory teeth or snapped hot breath in order to let the human's place be known , however sephiroth was not that kind of creature. he did appreciate respect , and respect meant distance. the human boy lacked respect or was it . . the only way he knew how to demonstrate his gratefulness? sephiroth stiffened , and every muscle , big or small , tightened beneath glimmering scales. it was momentary. it did not pass with a blink but with several breaths. fear was not the motivator , instead it was shock — a lack of contact with humans.

sephiroth had walked among humans long ago but had never been touched by one and certainly not in his dragon form. he expected very little like the brushing of fern against a claw , but sephiroth did feel it. a lone human hand. just as the human felt strength inside the dragon , the dragon found it mirrored with the human. it was more than strength as well. the dragon rider blood was powerful in a way sephiroth never experienced , but there was no denying the pull between man and creature. the fact was plain like moon and sun , yet the planet did not come to be in a single instance. a dragon's lifetime of healthy apprehension would not fall under the tide of . . of human persuasion , no matter if it was fate.

at the very least , the boy who touched without receiving permission was polite in the words ushered. sephiroth did not speak and it was almost as if he thought it was nothing major. it was tremendous. consequences would be had , but until then the magnificent creature coiled his neck in order to bring a behemoth head close to the human. an eye as tall as the boy stared but not as predator eyeing prey. it was . . matter of fact perhaps leaning on the side of gentility. several seconds stretched into eternity then returned to the sensation of quick passing seconds.

And then, before he could even begin to understand it, the dragon moved. With a shudder of wings and a rush of air, it lifted from the earth and soared into the heavens once more. His hair and clothes fluttered from the lingering wind, and his chest heaved for a moment. Above him, the deep violet sky swallowed the final trails of silver and teal light, as though trying to hide the miracle that had just been. His hand hung in the air for a moment longer, fingers outstretched toward the empty heavens. Slowly, he pressed that same hand to his chest, over the furious rhythm of his heart. He could still feel it—the echo of the dragon’s power, the warmth, the pulse, the nameless something that refused to fade. Not just awe. Not gratitude. Something older, older than blood, older than the mountains themselves.

The forest seemed to breathe with him. The wind whispered through the leaves, and the stars blinked faintly above. He drew in a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of earth, sap, and the faint trace of smoke. It felt as though the dragon had left a fragment of himself here, lodged in the quiet… and inside Zack’s chest.

He sank into the grass, sitting cross-legged in the soft earth. The ground bore gentle scars from where the dragon’s claws had pressed and curved arcs in the soil. Reverently, Zack brushed his fingers over one. Real, he told himself

“Guess you’re not just a story anymore... You’re really out there.”

Tilting his head back, he searched the sky again, tracing invisible paths beyond the stars.

“You’ll come back, right?”

He asked quietly, though the only reply was the murmur of wind through the branches. Still… something inside him stirred in answer. A spark. A pull. A bond invisible but unbreakable, humming just beneath his ribs—alive with a sudden spark like a flame. It ached faintly, not with sorrow but anticipation. He knew, with a certainty that reached beyond reason, that their paths would cross again.

When the night deepened and the forest found its voice once more, insects, the distant sound of an owl… Zack finally rose. He brushed the grass from his trousers, eyes still lifted toward the stars. The dragon had changed something. No—everything... The world felt wider now, as though some ancient current had been stirred awake. And he, reckless and ordinary as he was, had been chosen to stand at the heart of it.

He turned one last time toward the direction the dragon had flown, and a small smile curved his lips. Then, with a deep breath, he faced the shadowed path that led home.

By dawn, the world felt almost normal again—almost. Zack had checked on his family first thing. His father still hadn’t woken, but his breathing was steady, his color returning. Relief loosened something tight in Zack’s chest. He spent the morning helping his aunt and siblings with chores and fixing the damage from the attack, as well as assisting a few of the villagers, though his mind was elsewhere, caught between memory and wonder.

When midday came and the others paused for lunch, he slipped away. He rode out toward the Isle, tying his horse to the familiar old tree before taking the rest of the way on foot. His heart thudded with quiet excitement as he neared the clearing.

“Hello?! I’m back! I’ve got so many questions! I don’t know if you can talk or not, but I know you can understand me…”

prepared for slumber , colossal dragon took the form of a domesticated ( partially) feline , using leaf litter and twigs as bedding. with the sky blurring deep orange into black , the chattering animals ceased bending his ear for slumber of their own. noise of the chaotic and almost excited forest was replaced by the hissing of insects who were primarily unawares of the dragon's clamor. sephiroth was not tired , but he required the calm and solitude to sift through his thoughts. actions and consequences. all the peace and tranquility that was his life was completely shattered. news would spread and dragon hunters , on top of travelers , would flood the area to catch a glimpse ( and more ) of sephiroth. he saved a village but perhaps doom it and himself in the process.

dragons were proud creatures , and he had not resorted to secrecy due to any sense of fright ; he had wanted to be left alone. after all , the majority of his life had been spent in solitude with no mother , father , or dragon rider at his side. his life had not been entirely without other dragons , but trees had grown towering from the last time he flew with other dragons. pride meant being known. pride meant contributing to the world in some aspect just as every animal and plant. his mind was a mess , but the noise of it all was cut clean and quickly by squeaking— the familiar voice of the ebony haired dragon rider. sephiroth lifted his head off the ground and craned his gigantic head.

the human's voice carried , however the distance between them masked the fragility and rawness of the human's gratitude. crickets were animated in their chatter while disregarding the moment between dragon and human , elsewise all was quiet. sephiroth's teal eyes penetrated the darkness and waited for the silly human to leave. the silly human with dragon rider blood. sephiroth's exhalation quieted crickets as the force of the gust swayed bushes to and fro. the great beast sat up and back on his hindquarters , he waited a little bit more , then decided once and for all to make way past the dense trees and into the sky. he took off with more gentility , allowing his body to drop before he unfurled his wings , and glided effortlessly from his makeshift perch down towards the isle.

Perhaps it wasn’t even his dragon, not the one he had imagined watching over the Isle all these years. Just a traveler of the skies, a fleeting dream. The thought left a hollow ache behind his ribs. With a soft sigh, he lowered his head, closing his eyes as the faint wind brushed through his dark hair. 

But then— A rustle. Leaves shuddered. Branches swayed. The forest itself seemed to inhale. Zack’s eyes flew open, heart hammering as his gaze swept across the shadows. And then he saw it. Something vast moved through the trees with impossible grace, each motion deliberate, majestic. The air shimmered faintly as evening light caught on scales of silver and teal, like water reflecting starlight.

Zack’s breath caught. His entire body trembled—not in fear, but in awe. A deep, radiant warmth spread through him, a pulsing energy he couldn’t name, couldn’t contain. Every heartbeat felt like a drum summoning ancient memory. The dragon descended and then landed with unexpected grace. Zack couldn’t move at first. His brain lagged behind the wonder his eyes drank in. Then, suddenly, he was laughing—bright, breathless laughter bubbling out of him as if the world itself had just split open with light.

He ran! Sprinted as hard as he could. He didn’t think—he couldn't. His legs moved of their own accord, driven by instinct and joy. The sheer size of the creature should have terrified him, should have pinned him where he stood. But fear had no place here. Not for him. He stopped only when he was close enough to feel the dragon’s breath—warm and steady, carrying the scent of smoke and earth and something older than time.

Zack tilted his head back, eyes wide, trying to take it all in— the shimmer of scales that shifted hue with every flicker of starlight, the coiled grace beneath its stillness. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Only a shaky laugh that caught somewhere between disbelief and reverence. Slowly, his hand lifted—hesitant, trembling. Inches from the dragon’s snout, he froze. The creature’s eyes met his.

They were vast oceans of teal, deep and knowing. The world seemed to still around them. Even the insects stopped their nocturnal chorus, the forest holding its breath. Time stopped.

Zack’s heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might burst. He didn’t understand it! This flood of joy, this ache of recognition—but it filled every corner of him. The air itself seemed to hum between them, the same hum he had always felt on the Isle but stronger, alive. Tears stung his eyes. He let out a small, incredulous laugh that broke into something softer, almost a sob.

Finally, his hand found the courage to close the space. Fingers brushed against scales—warm, so much warmer than he thought it would be, smooth, impossibly solid. His breath hitched as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the dragon, letting its warmth envelope him.

“Thank you. If it weren’t for you… my family, my friends—they’d all be gone. I owe you everything.”

He stayed like that for a while, eyes closed, hand still pressed to gleaming scales. He could feel the creature’s quiet strength beneath his palm, steady and vast like the heartbeat of the world itself.

dragons were born from the cracking of the sun at its set. they fledged and survived at night while gazing at the moon during its fullest wondering if it was home. mother sun and father moon , so the story was told by sephiroth's mother as it was told to her as a young dragon , and so on and so forth. just as geese instinctually knew where to fly with the coming winter dragons knew the story of the birth of dragons and presumably learned from generation after generation of parent. perhaps that was not instinctual at all except sephiroth held no memory of his mother save for a feeling and a whisper of a voice. to be nurtured. to be loved. to have family , but sephiroth was the only living dragon in existence presumably.

as far as humans were concerned , dragons were long extinct having faced the ravages of infertility and poaching after the end of the dragon rider line. dragons were more than the humans which mounted their scaled backs and took care of their eggs. apparently not. if there were any dragons on this part of the continent , surely sephiroth would have found another of his kind. he was , without any doubt , the largest dragon in current and past existence. a massive behemoth of beauty and terror who perhaps reaped the benefits of solitude. however if a creature as massive as sephiroth existed , the largest terrestrial animal , and humans falsely believed them all to be dead that meant there was hope.

all sephiroth knew was solitude and loneliness with mother sun and father moon as his only sources of companionship. if it was just a matter of desperation , sephiroth could have easily shifted his appearance and lived among the humans. how long had he lived in his dragon form? centuries perhaps. the seasons changed but they often passed in a blink of an eye. there were autumns he slumbered through and springs spent in the ocean. time a fickle thing without any doubt. sephiroth hunted , fed , and isolated himself away from the infestation of humanity. in a way he betrayed his dragon heritage for being a dragon meant more than draconoid form ; he had no one to teach him nor guide him. sephiroth's life was his own. how melancholy.

like any creature from aves to canid , his claws did grip for any semblance of home even if his home was long taken over by rodents and dust. the sun cracked open on the draconoid isle. century after century it was told molten dragon breath evaporated all the water surrounding the isle in order to bridge the boundary between dragon and dragon rider. verdant was the isle now ; too accessible to human interaction. deer and owls roamed freely where they had not before ( for fear of being devoured ) , and that only bothered sephiroth meagerly. he worries not warding the creatures away. the most pesky of creatures were of course the humans , and he could not understand why they enjoyed exploring and destroying every crevice on the planet.

his home was a grave site to the past but not in complete ruins— in part to sephiroth's miniscule contributions and in greater part to ironic human intervention. intervention with black spires for hair and flesh like a new peach. it , the human , was his sole source of crass entertainment he had for how many seasons? the human did not make the journey to the draconoid isle every day but when he did , sephiroth watched a with a keener eye than all predatory birds combined. a massive creature curled up in camouflage and watching. watching. the dragon watched as the human ran off vandals and even tousled with one or two. watched as he scrubbed away any signs of crude defacement. watched as he . . seemed to treat the isle like it was his own home with care. sephiroth watched as the human then turned more man than boy , but it was still boyish with the ardor and devotion it demonstrated toward the long dead isle.

it wasn't dead entirely , not with the presence of the human and not with sephiroth's existence. the two of them.

having recently feasted , sephiroth licked the blood and sinew from massive jaws as he curled into himself much like a feline after feast save for being incredibly massive and scaled. his scaled flesh tingled with pleasant warmth as he settled into the tree bound mountain face. another perfect cranny in the world. the world meant for dragons. well-furred creatures scurried in the treetops without fear for the dragon as slumber began to envelop his body. the creatures of the forest did not change their habits at all but sephiroth's inner ears twitched to life and eyelids larger than boulders opened in a millisecond. the smell of smoke carried in the wind but with the intrusion of humans on the world , it alone was of no concern , but then came the desperate cries. prayers on the tongue of the devoted human , and prayers meant for the gods and the dragons. they were deaf or gone , but sephiroth heard. my village! my family!

the sun broke to give birth to dragons — a heart broke to bring the dragons back.

the trees and vegetation were accustomed to sephiroth's size and movements , however the animals stirred nervously when his body roused with unfamiliar speed. the forest was tense and waiting for the climax of the play. he dug his claws into the ground and tensed the muscles of his hindquarters. potential energy turned kinetic energy more powerful than canon fodder. animals yelped and screamed and the trees yelled too , so powerful was the motion of the dragon launching into the air that whiplash hit the surrounding area. too long had the earth not felt the natural disturbance of dragon movements. sephiroth flew low to the ground though massive beating wings were thunder in the horizon.

dreadful to those who were ignorant. the verdant isle was interrupted by not only sound by sight as the gigantic body of the dragon suddenly emerged from behind the mountain of the isle where once hundreds of dragon eggs lied nestled in their own nests. a magnificent beast he was among the green— a silver unlike any other on earth were the colour of his scales and it caught the sun's shine like a mountain of precious gems and metals. blinding but demanding attention. he was not merely silver however , his scales were were secondarily teal and the earthy hue was only visible in the broadness of sunlight. where his scaled tail reached its narrowest end the green-blue hue was more prominent than silver.

contrasting the cool colours , his ventral scales were warmer and shone creamy-like to rival all the pearls in the ocean. the human would be able to see it all— the incredible splendor as the dragon stood atop his birth-home. from such a great height the human was incapable of seeing those massive eyes of teal and serpentine pupils , but it could see the human in detail he had never seen previously. those ebony spirals for hair , work-tanned flesh , eyes holding the reflection of an ocean , and. . . a scar on his cheek. dragon rider , sephiroth's blood hummed. a pollinator meeting flower. a seedling reaching first sunlight. sephiroth studied him quietly until quiet was forced to death.

neighs of terror from the mounts and gasps of shock from the blood-stained humans who rode the horses captured the dragon's fearsome attention. there was blood , so much rushing blood , and for the apex predator it was like a trigger to kill. smoke curled warningly out from the dragon's nostrils as he desired more than anything to set the men alight into pyres of warning ; the horses did not deserve such a fate even if sephiroth could feast from their charred flesh upon his return. smoke curled darker and more threateningly before the opening of razor-toothed maw , and sitting at the base of his throat was the sun itself but an angry sun. a fireball twisting and turning as if yearning to be unleashed.

horses screamed and nearly bucked off their riders , but sephiroth did not release the ball of fire. it served a warning. tremendous webbed wings darker than the rest of his body as though stained by soot shook both the earth and the sky as he took to the sky. he flew slow and deliberately over the group of marauding fools. if the threat of immolation did not frighten enough , the powerful gust of wind sent them running away from the dragon home. one unfortunately rider was bucked off after much struggle and snapped his neck upon impact. the pillagers rode wildly back in the direction where they came from until their horses foamed at the mouth from struggle. sephiroth beat his wingers until he lifted higher into the sky.

one second hovering the next he shot away from the pleading human and the isle like the true marvel of nature dragons were. fast — incredibly fast given his tremendous size. what was leagues to humans even on horseback were mere seconds to dragons , and sephiroth honed in on the sight and smell of fire , easily pinpointing the human's home he was so ardently praying for. only fire continued to stir for humans turned into stone. utter awe compelled them all even those humans with ill-intentions. what a magnificent glory! the return of the dragons! there was only one dragon however , yet sephiroth was enough for three if not four.

breath took solid form and could be captured for that moment in human history. as sephiroth's already massive body descended and grew all the more massive , people remembered they were just humans in the presence of a dragon. awe became poisoned with fear as villagers darted way ( but still insisted on watching ) , and pillagers dropped torches , weapons , and stolen items to flee for their lives. most of them anyway , those who had brains and not spoiled eggs inside their skulls. two men threw torches at sephiroth yet the fire-gleam of the torches only brought out the brilliance of scales as it bounced off him like fly against boulder. sephiroth was careful to not step on any homes as he pressed forward while children cried and smoke dominated.

sephiroth swept great head to and fro with maw open and blew hot air ( not fire ) against violently-lit fire with a strength that threatened to blow roof from home yet only completely suffocated fires. one pillager who stood his ground hit sephiroth's foot with a pole axe , and the weapon shattered like a children's toy. sephiroth's teal eye engulfed him. fear made the murderer soil his breeches but it did not end there for him. the magnificent beast so accustomed to the taste of gore in his mouth moved like his viper relative but with the stern gentility of a crocodilian. the sight and sound of the man being picked up in the mouth of the dragon instilled tremendous fear. sephiroth could hear it and thought the humans weird. no blood gushed through his teeth— no death was at hand , not yet.

the man thrashed and struggled inside the warm and wet mouth. a mouth that surely smelled of ancestral death. sephiroth curled his neck , reared his head , and then flung his head to the side while opening his maw which sent the trespasser flying through the air like living ammunition. the gore would be too far away for the villagers to see , but the explosion of blood and limbs was close enough to the human's retreating comrades who they and their mounts screamed. the second human who had stood body-to-claw against sephiroth had run away from village and his comrades in a maddened state of panic. the ground trembled and villagers cowered as sephiroth almost seemed to saunter about like new ruler.

silver and teal tail whipped around with care as more jets of hot air were produced to put out one flame after the next. a strange mixture of muffled noises and silence overwhelmed the village. most children were afraid but not all as some openly stared while enveloped in the arms of mother or father. sephiroth spared no looks as he leaped with great agility away from the village , taking step after step , crushing bushes under foot before he reached the runaway warmonger. one second he was a man panting , and the next second he was pressed bone , organ , and blood on the earth. sephiroth leapt from the ground and great wings propelled him into the sky.

if the pillagers believed they would be released with little warning they were gravely incorrect. as felids toyed with their near-kills , sephiroth hovered above the fleeing scoundrels until the fright of his presence caused rider after rider to be bucked off horseback. in one instance , a horse tumbled with its rider and broke its leg during the panic. all twelve fallen men and one injured horse met a dragon's fire. a mere whisper of fire and death gripped them from bright fire to black meat. sephiroth stomped on flamed grass , trees , and corpses until no fire threatened the woodlands. the rest of the marauders were allowed to continue living and sephiroth watched them until tree cover obscured their bodies.

sephiroth spared no further glances towards the village or the justice he instilled , for he again took to the skies with several bounds of powerful legs. he flew with no urgency but openly soaring. a dragon who did not bother hiding ; it was futile. he spun in circles and touched tree tops with the tips of his toes for the simple pleasure of it as he returned to his distant mountain crevice for much needed solitude. sephiroth did not return to the dragon rider wherever the boy was. tranquility and flattened grasses awaited him on the mountain face though the rodents gave him an earful for such a dramatic exit.

Dragons.

To everyone else in their humble countryside village, dragons were nothing but myth. Ashes of a long-dead age. But for Zack, dragons meant hope. They meant home. A piece of himself he’d never known but longed for with every heartbeat. He absorbed every story, every legend, not as fantasy but as memory... something ancient stirring deep within his bones. When he was old enough, his grandfather took him to the Isle—the resting place of dragons and dragon riders. Zack still remembered the first time his boots touched its soil. The air itself seemed alive, thick with an ancient hum that wrapped around him like an unseen welcome. Something deep inside him had awakened that day, a thrumming rhythm he couldn’t name but somehow knew. He didn’t fear it. He embraced it.

Even after his grandfather’s passing, Zack returned to the Isle often. He cleaned the moss from carved stones, tended to the wildflowers that grew through cracked memorials, and spoke aloud to the ghosts of his ancestors. Sometimes he even spoke to the dragons themselves, as though they lingered in spirit just beyond the veil. And at times— when the wind carried a strange warmth or a shadow rippled across the trees... he swore he was being watched. Not in alarm. But in quiet guardianship. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Still, it was comforting.

The villagers found him a little odd, perhaps too dreamy for a man his age but he was respected. The Fair family name carried weight; his father was the village head, stern and proud, and Zack’s natural charm softened even the most skeptical hearts. He was the one people came to when their horses fell ill or when the children clamored for stories by the fire. His laughter was bright, his spirit restless, and though he bore the pressure of lineage, he still carried that boyish gleam in his eyes… the kind that made you believe in impossible things.

That morning began like any other on the Isle. Zack spent hours wandering through the ruins and forested slopes, soaking in the quiet. By the time he turned to leave, dusk had begun its slow descent, and the horizon blazed gold. He mounted his horse in a strong dark bay and gave a soft pat to its neck. The horse’s ears flicked. Then the horse reared with a sharp whinny, nostrils flaring as if catching some distant scent. Zack’s smile faltered. What was it?... The answer came with the wind—smoke.  And beneath it, a sound no one could mistake. Screams. Dread knifed through his chest before his eyes even found the rising plume.

“...No.”

He didn’t think. He moved.  Kicking hard, Zack urged the horse into a hard gallop, the landscape blurring around him. The air grew hotter, darker, and the sound of chaos swelling in his ears. Please—let them be safe. Let everyone be safe. If only the dragons were still here, he could have reached them in a heartbeat. Please! 

 And then—  A thunderous roar shattered the sky. Zack looked up, and every dream he’d ever clung to came alive. A dragon!

A living, breathing dragon—a silver-and-teal colossus wreathed in sunlight, wings vast enough to cast entire fields in shadow. His breath caught, tears stinging his eyes.

“...You’re real.”

Most men would have fled. But Zack only felt awe, relief, joy.  The dragon wasn’t a harbinger of destruction—it was a promise answered.

He spurred the horse onward, following the creature’s flight toward the village. By the time he arrived, the air burned with smoke, the acrid scent of blood and ash mixing thick in his lungs. But many of the flames were dying, smothered by something immense—someone immense. Zack barely had a moment to marvel before chaos found him again. Raiders still roamed the outskirts, looting what remained. One charged him from the side. In a fluid motion born from instinct, Zack swung low, hanging off the horse’s flank to snatch an axe from a fallen man. He pivoted hard, cleaving through the nearest attacker before the man could strike a fleeing villager.

Another came. Then another. He hopped off the horse. Zack fought with fierce precision, less trained soldier, more desperate protector. When the last of the attackers near him fell, Zack turned, panting, eyes searching for that glimmer of silver. The dragon loomed in the distance, wings spread wide like a god descending from the heavens. Every movement shook the ground, every breath a gale. Zack wanted to run to it! To see it up close, to speak to it but duty anchored him. He turned toward his home, where cries still rose.

By the time the dragon departed, silence swept the village like a sudden winter. Smoke curled lazily into the night sky. The warmth that had filled the air moments ago was gone, leaving Zack feeling strangely hollow.

He found his father beneath a collapsed beam—alive but barely conscious. Zack and a few villagers dragged him inside, where a healer worked quickly. His younger siblings clung to him in trembling silence while their aunt, Anabel, muttered quiet prayers over the wounded.

“Luckily,” she whispered, rubbing a hand over her face, “there weren’t many casualties. Thanks to you... and that creature.”

Zack caught her eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Not a creature,” he murmured softly. “A dragon.”

She scowled, looking too tired to argue. “Call it what you want… but don’t you dare--”

 Zack was already standing, carefully lifting his sleeping siblings onto their beds. “It saved us. I have to thank them.”

“Are you mad?! You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” Zack said, flashing her that same reckless grin that had gotten him out of trouble since he was ten. “Keep an eye on Emi and Alex for me, yeah?” And before she could stop him, he was gone.

The night was deep and windless when Zack reached the Isle once more. His horse’s sides were lathered in sweat, his own breath short and hot in his chest. He dismounted, boots crunching against damp grass, the air charged with something ancient and alive. The moon hung full above, silvering the stones and the lake beyond.

“Hello?!” Zack called out, his voice echoing into the dark. “I know you’re here!”

The forest answered with silence. His heart thundered, that same old hum now a wild, pulsing drumbeat inside him. It was as if his very blood remembered something his mind had forgotten.

“I just—” his voice cracked, eyes scanning the shadowed cliffs, “I just wanted to thank you. For saving them. For saving us.”