#even more!

I don't hear near enough talking about this song

We get over this song way to fast

The skeleton of the fic basically followed Sephiroth having to save Midgar when werewolf-adjacent monsters run amok. Oh no! And because he’s like Jenovian or something he can’t be transformed- something in similar vein to how his blood can heal degradation in Crisis Core. I’m also 98% sure this was written in various study halls. My life is weird and my imagination is weirder.

(Tw for tryhard-edgy body horror <3)

~

"Stay back, clear out!" The officer struggled to be heard over the vicious tumult of bystanders and rain. He herded the flustered citizens away, beaming a flashlight upon the eye of the storm.

Assisted by both artificial and natural illumination, a body was revealed. Perhaps one would not even recognize it as such if not for the unmistakable and humanistic terror that had been seared into his or her features, raw and potent long after their eternal abduction.

"Move aside."

None of the witnesses dared to disobey the voice that sliced through the rabble. Everyone stepped aside, leaving room for Sephiroth and the lieutenant at his heels to weave through. Cries hushed to murmurs, all seeking solace in the SOLDIERs' presence.

"General." The policeman bowed his head in greeting, nothing short of maladroit due to the paralytic binds that took seize of his heart and mind.

There was no time for formalities. Sephiroth strode to the corpse's side, crouching down for a closer inspection. With the radiating emerald gleam of Mako, there was no need to take the offered flashlight. The sight was more than clear.

And it was hellish to put it lightly.

A man, no older than twenty, lay mutilated in the shadows of Midgar's freeway. Drenched in a river of both rainfall and blood, saturated crimson streams journeyed along the concrete, drawn by the gravitational pull of the sewers, filtering through the grates. His clothes were nothing but tatters, laced by ruby threads, revealing the art underneath—gaping lacerations that severed the arms and chest, cascading rents dammed by exposed tissue where bone was visible beyond the flesh, stripped clean of the muscle, fractured and dampened with marrow. The feast hadn't ended there: the throat was slashed in two, a once-strong larynx now resembling nothing more than a scissored cord, blood trickling from a yawning mouth, teeth stained pink, and amber eyes cavernous with engraved terror.

Sephiroth had no words to share. No exclamations of horror or curses to utter beneath his breath. No. He had seen such butchery before. But by the hands of a monster at that—a beast with five fingers, gifted with speech and reigned over the food chain, slaughtering others without reason or care.

No, this was a much different beast.

As Sephiroth straightened, his visage was carved from stone. Flurries of red of blue lights began blaring in the distance.

"S-Seph...?"

The warrior turned to face his friend. Zack was standing in utter silence, caged in his mind, sapphire locked darkly with the man who had moments before been alive, breathing, feeling... He met the unreadable emeralds with eyes of pain and horror, mist welling within them. So many questions flashed through them.

How... Why... What did he do wrong...?"

Sephiroth had no answers. He could only sigh in response, laying a firm hand to rest upon the younger man's trembling shoulder, inclining his own head in condolence.

Zack was pure. The death of those he had never met were still bullet wounds, ones that stung deep with guilt and hollowness. Sephiroth, in contrast, could spill blood untainted. Even if no one save Zack realized, he would do all in his power to ensure that death was a last resort when handling adversaries. However, he couldn't, and never would, fathom his friend's level of empathy. It was what drew him to Zack to begin with.

Sniveling, the brunet lunged forward, burying himself deep into the unwavering sanctuary of his best friend's coat, hidden from the venomous reality that was too cruel to fathom. He would process it, he knew he would... eventually. He was a SOLDIER, death was an inevitability. He knew that good and well.

But... just...

Sephiroth swaddled his arms around the quivering teen, much to the bugged-eye gawks of those not swamped in tears. He pressed him close to his chest, surveying the frail excuse of a body over the trembling shoulders. His eyes narrowed darkly. "What happened?" Sephiroth interrogated in a cool and urgent bark, propping his chin against Zack's hair.

"We're... unclear, Sir." The officer lowered his flashlight, stepping aside as two paramedics wheeled a stretcher into the tumult. They sputtered unintelligible swears upon digesting the wretched sight.

"Wait," Sephiroth intervened, drawing the workers' attention as they hovered a thick cadaver pouch over the corpse's form. They turned to the warrior, confusion written in their eyes.

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around his friend, Sephiroth withdrew his PHS and snapped a photo. "You may proceed; I will examine the injuries more thoroughly.”

They nodded silently.

Sephiroth watched them leave then. He watched them lift the gorged body into the ambulance, watched them fasten the doors, watched them speed through the rain and blood, watched the look of sheer disbelief and repulsion as they did so, destined to be ghosts in his mind. When he felt Zack quiver, Sephiroth returned his phone to rewrap the arm he had freed.

The storm ceased to quell. Even as people were instructed to leave, even as tape was bordered around the sidewalk, even as streets were obstructed, Sephiroth's boots were fixed in cement.

He and Zack stood there, silent amidst the downpour, both wondering why they couldn't have just been outside to prevent it all. Prevent an innocent life from being stripped away.

He had again failed.

He couldn't protect anyone.

Never.

x~x~x~x

Sephiroth’s head was dipped, silver bangs dismal and wilting as he trudged down the empty ShinRa corridor. His boots tried to counter the painful silence, echoing heavily in the wake of his doleful movements.

He stopped when footsteps padded behind him. The clumsy and shaken motions said it all.

"I told you to go to bed.”

When Zack was only a few feet behind the other, he dug his hands into his pockets, pivoting uneasily. "I... don't think I'll be able to sleep."

The warrior glanced over his shoulder, frowning. "Try."

Zack ignored him. "Where are you going? It's just as late for you as it is for me!" He was still noticeably shivering as he spoke, the macabre images refusing to fade from his mind's eyes, clear and potent, stuck on repeat.

Sephiroth raised his chin, contemplating an adequate response. "I have been trained to go nights on end without sleep, and I have crucial investigating to do for the safety of everyone in Midgar. You have seen enough for one night. Rest." And with that he continued down the lonely, uncarpeted hall, leaving no room for further protest.

Not that it ever mattered to Zack. He balled his hands into fists. No... he wasn't going to be left behind. He wouldn't. If he couldn't handle a single murder, then what was he doing in SOLDIER? What was he doing standing behind the planet's strongest warrior, wearing a First Class belt, honored as the General's assistant? What kind of Lieutenant was that? What kind of friend  was that?

"No," Zack called after the other, his voice shooting out like a double-edged spear, pricking his own heart for how harsh it sounded. But he carried on. "I'm not just gonna curl up under the covers and let you clean up everythin' by yourself. We both saw what the Hell happened out there. Yeah, I was scared, but so what? I'm a SOLDIER, dangnabbit! You're not the only one who deserves to risk things! You've done it for me, for everyone, so what makes you think that anyone can't do the same for you?"

Sephiroth had once again paused in his tracks. For a long while neither spoke, the fire in Zack's eyes settling into embers of fierce determination. Sephiroth saw this as he turned around, saw the hesitation dying in the flames. He stared Angeal's puppy up and down. No. "puppy" wasn't fit for someone so resilient, someone who had been struck by everything from hurricanes to infernos, acknowledging the fear yet being able to sweep it aside for the well-being of others.

And at that, Sephiroth couldn't help but feel a bubbling sense of pride.

"Well..." A small, heartfelt smile stretched across his features. "You really have grown."

Zack, in spite of the circumstances—in spite of everything—found himself smiling. He jogged up to the other, his grin broadening as he realized Seph was waiting for him.

"So." The aqua orbs were glistening under a new light, already feeling the anxious weights lifting now that he stood beside his friend. "Where we heading?"

"Professor Price," Sephiroth explained, his tone now guarded and businesslike. He tapped the button for the nearest elevator, letting Zack slip inside before following. "Whatever attacked that civilian, it was no man. Only an animal could mutilate like that."

Zack listened attentively, swallowing. "I'd say. Do you think maybe it was just some freak accident? I mean... maybe a monster just wandered out from the slums...?" His chest tightened. If that was the case, then... Aerith...

"That was my initial thought process." Sephirorh eyed a flickering light on the ceiling. "However, myself—and you—have been down there on multiple occasion. To my knowledge, there isn't a creature capable of that amount of utter bloodshed."

"Yeah, true..." Zack scratched his head. "So you think the Professor'll know what coulda done... that?"

"That is the idea, yes." They shuffled out of the elevator and down the corridor, one not different than all the rest if one was to dismiss the vile and asphyxiating stench of raw Mako. "I have a photo for evaluation."

"Smart, smart. Hopefully-"

He was cut off when Sephiroth froze in his tracks. Zack, scuttling at a decently fast pace, rammed against the sturdy figure. "Bud...?" He craned around to follow the other's gaze, staring at nothing but a closed metal door. The same one they had previously entered, the same one with Professor Taylor Price plated over Hojo's name. "Hey, are you-"

And then the scent hit.

It barraged into his nose in a hostile and merciless greeting. Something rusty and bitter, spiteful and foul. Something all too familiar, and all too real.

Blood. It was blood. Lots of it.

Sephiroth was three steps ahead. He whipped out his key card, practically slamming it through the receiver as he barged through the door, Masamune poised and ready to slash.

Fave flower: I always feel so bad when people ask me, because I really don't know! I've never found a flower that I've been fully in love with or feel like it represented me or anything... I've always like snapdragons, lilies, and lotuses?