Reunion is the end of...

by Lil_Dipper_Dippy

Summary:

Sephiroth faces an unforeseen predicament while at the front lines in the war against Wutai. There is a mysterious baby in his tent, one with startling similarities to himself in fact. Thus begins the upheaval of everything Sephiroth thought he knew about the world and himself as the infant throws him straight into the chaotic jaws of parenthood.

Elsewhere, after the events of Advent Children, a new conflict arises and threatens everything Cloud Strife had built for himself and all that he holds dear. Despite being unable to win the fight, Gaia refuses to let her Champion fall under the weight of this threat. Her Champion, although reluctant to accept the form of her aid and its price, does not refuse the mission given to him by the Planet. He will set things right, one last time.

Meanwhile, everyone else is wondering how to retain their sanity as the Silver General decides to adopt a baby despite having no experience in parenthood or childcare, in the middle of a war by the way, and an enhanced man of unknown origins is dead set on being an ecoterrorist with a vendetta.

Otherwise known as: Sephiroth adopts a baby and it becomes everybody's problem, especially Cloud's.

Notes:

Hello, hello, for any of you who do not know me, you may call me DipDab, Dip, or Dippy.

Welcome to the beginning of my "Sephiroth adopts a baby and it becomes everybody's problem, especially Cloud's" fic! Before we begin I just want to give people a heads up on what to expect.

As this is only my second fic on here so far, it is not beta read, and I am terrible at planning, this is going to be an adventure for everybody and definitely not a perfect one. Chapters will be added when completed but expect long wait times since I'm surprised I even finished this first chapter.

POV's will alternate between and in chapters at times so I've decided to name chapters after who will be the predominant POV throughout it: Solitude - Sephiroth's POV is the main one, Separation - Cloud's POV is the main one, and finally Suffering - Characters other than Sephiroth or Cloud is the main POV.

I have no true plan yet so I'll be adding/editing tags as I go but if they are super spoilery to the plot I will provide warnings at the beginning of each chapter in Author's Notes instead. Some warnings are just to cover my bases but are kind of expected due to canon, like adding the character death tag to cover those who are dead in Advent Children timeline. Regardless of what dark themes I want to explore in this fic whether they be my own ideas or from the canon story, I am writing to reach a happy ending for those who need that reassurance.

Alright, that should be everything for now. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Thoughts of Self Harm, Child Neglect

Mild Spoilers Ahead: For this one all I can really think of as warnings is that Kunsel and Sephiroth describe/think of violence that fit into the setting of a war and someone with a history as a victim of human experimentation. Kunsel momentarily recalls witnessing a fellow soldier getting shot in the head. Sephiroth recalls things done by Hojo, warning in the tags there for a reason, but these are stated more as facts than described like Kunsel's case. There is also a brief moment Sephiroth, has a pain induced thought of inflicting self harm to his eyes but quickly dismisses it because he knows it's an irrational idea caused by the pain he's in. Also maybe some unintentional child neglect on Sephiroth's part by briefly leaving an infant unattended while it's sleeping. That's all I can think of that may need warnings, but let me know if I should add any others I might've missed.

Chapter 1: Solitude

When a child’s crying goes unanswered, their needs unmet, eventually the baby ceases to cry.

 

Sephiroth is known for his adaptability to situations where his needs are unmet, his perseverance in the face of adversity, overcoming the odds even when they seem impossible.

 

And why wouldn’t he be? Such a state is that which his life has been in since the first moment he came into this world. Shinra knew how to stamp out everything superficial such as wants , as a weapon, a thing , does not have wants. A good weapon is kept functional for its duty and only requires minimal maintenance. Nothing more. Otherwise it is taken away to be decommissioned. So Sephiroth, the smart baby that stopped crying after only two weeks under Hojo’s custody, learned to keep his wants and desires secret. He knew to only permit his desires to revolve around what little Shinra doesn’t take away from him so that he can keep something . A sacred consistency within unknown hostile environments.

 

One of the secret wants he always struggled to keep hidden, especially from Hojo and that always earned him a sneer, was his desire to know about his mother. Searching for any scrap of information about the elusive vague impressions his mind had conjured up, then desperately clung onto the memory of her image ever since he lost that locket… A connection, a normalcy in his abnormal existence, that strange unknown that every human is gifted with by the sole act of being born- a family. 

 

Well, bestowed to all except Sephiroth it seems. Though to be fair, his attention remains fixated more so on the absence of his mother, Jenova, than any other. It remains his most dangerous want.

 

Perhaps due to the fact that this uncontrollable desire is rearing its disruptive head again, is why Sephiroth’s patience has grown abnormally thin. Or maybe that was just Genesis’ special skill.

 

Or both… Yes, most likely both.

 

The man considers such musings as Genesis lounges atop the couch he invited himself to sit upon within Sephiroth’s tent. The same tent where he was trying to fill out time pressing reports for their efforts here at the frontlines against Wutai. Orders to be given to other soldiers in leadership positions, orders to be given for rations and supplies, orders for weapons, orders for transportation, orders, orders, orders… that all seem to fall onto Sephiroth’s desk.

 

Of course when Sephiroth finally sits down to tackle the responsibilities, attempt to keep his men alive, this is precisely the time that Genesis, perhaps possessed by a cat, decides to waltz into his tent and flop gracefully down onto one of the sole couches within the army camp. He doesn’t understand why Genesis must lounge on his couch, and when he dared to question it, Genesis vows the lumpy yet thin cushions are somehow more comfortable than their cots and his couch is the best one “evidently,” as if that is self explanatory. Sephiroth highly doubts there is any true difference.

 

So there he lies. Sephiroth’s pen scribbles away at papers, while Genesis watches a noisy video Sephiroth is adamantly attempting to ignore as his eyes scan over the small printed letters in front of him. The growing ache within his head was just as displeased with the ear stabbing existence on his couch. The headache is throbbing as though someone was attempting to replicate one of the professor’s few experiments with brain damage recovery. Thankfully those had been one of the rare experiments Hojo truly held utmost caution towards in case his perfect specimen was damaged beyond repair…

 

At least Genesis had the courtesy to remove his boots before sprawling across his couch, feet included. Sephiroth is unfortunately rather certain such a courtesy is being given more to the couch itself than to Sephiroth.

 

A cackle bursts from Genesis at whatever his PHS screen is showing him. The fiery First Class, along with other soldiers, were currently all distracted by the rare spot of service for their PHS’ to receive while in Wutai, so many are making calls or texting their loved ones. Hence Sephiroth's musings towards his poor mood today at the reminder of what he lacks. Rather than do such a thing, Genesis took the opportunity to instead watch videos online about whatever scandals are occurring back in Midgar. As another cackle erupts from Genesis’ chest, Sephiroth’s grip tightens around his pen enough to nearly crack it. His self control is far too impeccable after a life under Hojo's care for him to damage an item involuntarily for something so mundane as a headache.

 

Yes, it certainly is both evaporating his patience…

 

A sigh nearly escapes Sephiroth’s lips, instead he sets his pen down, lest it burst and create an irreversible mess of ink across his papers (just in case), to momentarily pause his battle against the stacks of paperwork. Resisting the urge to massage at his own temple to try to relieve the building tension behind his skull is a fight he somehow wins. But just barely.

 

“Genesis.” He begins cautiously, as speaking while severely irritated is prone to failure in the elusive art of communication.

 

“Hmm?” Not even an upward glance is awarded to the silver haired First-Class. That is fine. He will be the responsible one. He will not be petty nor immature. Angeal will be proud of him.

 

“Do you not have something more pressing to be doing? We are at war at the moment, there must be several things that could benefit from your attention.” Okay, not to the best start, Sephiroth can taste his own leaking attitude within such word choice, certainly so with the extra dryness to his tone. Deep breath… he could do this…

 

With a flourishing twirl of his hand, otherwise known as a dismissive wave in Genesis’ body language he’s learned, his fellow SOLDIER huffs with minute exhaustion as though Sephiroth were the one being disruptive.

 

“I’m sure there are plenty of chores about the encampment that do not require the attention of a person such as I. How could we have any confidence in winning this war if the grunts can’t manage themselves to at least this degree?”

 

Another throb through his mind, a sharp scalpel slicing across his frontal lobe, forces Sephiroth to focus slightly more on his own breathing. Which he eventually uses as an attempt to regain some patience. He is not to lose his patience. Sephiroth has unwavering patience when necessary, otherwise a lot more people would probably be dead.

 

“If you are disinclined to act upon your duties as a Commander, at least do so somewhere it will not disrupt my duties.”

 

Fuck. That is not what patience sounds like, even he knows that. Angeal would not be impressed. And lo and behold, just as such a thought crosses his aching mind, Sephiroth hears a familiar gait heading straight for his tent. As expected it doesn’t take Angeal long to appear through the tent flap dangling in place of a door.

 

“-as though you are oh so above the rest of us!”

 

Double fuck. He probably should have looked more like he was paying attention to whatever rant he had inadvertently sent Genesis spiraling into. Except the pressure within his skull was continuing to gluttonously devour his senses, not diminishing at all in the weight of one of Scarlet’s blasted creations stomping atop his brain or its inclination to stab with Masamune’s precision after it had been freshly sharpened. 

 

“What’s going on here?” Angeal asks with a brow raised towards the ruffled feathered Genesis who screeches- gods above he may as well just split his own head in two, maybe then he’d get rid of this pressure. Right Genesis, pay attention- “Someone has a far bigger stick than usual stuck up his ass today, that’s what’s going on!”

 

“Genesis.” Ah, there’s the infamous Look of Disappointment Angeal has perfected in his time as a mentor to the other SOLDIERS.

 

With a soft wince at the next, truly impressive, shrill screech that erupts from Genesis, only partly towards his failure yet again to communicate with his fellow Firsts, Sephiroth finally caves and begins massaging at his own temple. Which does not go unnoticed by Angeal. His friend immediately walks closer; he must've done something to shut Genesis up for now if the lack of cursing and loveless quotes are anything to go by.

 

“Are you alright Seph? Another migraine?” The sound comes from Sephiroth’s left, wait, when did he close his eyes? Now that Angeal has pointed it out, yes this does feel similar to previous unfortunate migraine episodes. Enough for him to clench his jaw to prevent any unbecoming sounds the professor would be furious to hear if he were present. Except… there’s also a sharp fuzzy feeling that seems to be squeezing tighter and tighter around his mind.

 

“…Seph…ro…h?”

 

A heavy hand rests atop his pauldron and Sephiroth slowly works through the tension squeezing his eyes shut to forcibly relax enough so that he may pry free his vision again. Even through the pain and half his vision obscured by his own hand that’s clutching at his traitorous head, Sephiroth can make out the deep frown weighing down Angeal’s lips, how the man’s eyes flick back and forth from his own as though he could use them to see into his skull and locate the issue.

 

Perhaps if that were possible Angeal would have been able to see the owner of the voice that echoes through Sephiroth’s mind at that moment.

 

C̸̝̰̭̻̟͖̯̑͛̐͊̿a̸̡̡̳̬͔͔̙̹͋͐̈̕l̸̲̺͆͗̈̿̊͊̊͒̕ȃ̵͖̘͇m̷͉̂̇͛̅̂͌̕i̷̧̜̥̻̖͔͋̈͐̂̔͝t̴̢͚̼͇̫͔̰͌͐̈́̽̆y̵̦̞͌̚…̶̠͖̣̱̳̄́̄͊̑̓̍͘͠ ̴̹̯̙͖͉͚̆̉c̶̨̙̹͇͓͎͋̈́̂ò̶͍̥͇̙̞̫̼͔́̚͝r̴̢͆͌̑̽̏̏̂̈́r̷̥͓̺͙̝̊̂̓͠ͅu̶̟͙̦͍̅̋͘p̸̧̗̙̎͑̓t̶͙̭̜̳̲̮̠͔͉͋͒̃̃̓͘ę̸͖̇̆̐̅͒̀̚̕d̶̜͉͚͖̪̗̪̳̼̈́͐̉͂͘…̵̧͔͖͉͔̦̹̃̅

 

The feeling of static, endless needle points stabbing all across his brain, slams into him as though it were powered by a Thundaga spell itself. His hands clutch desperately at his own hair, teeth grinding together so hard he can hear the creaking bones over the beehive buzzing blanketing his ears.

 

Sephiroth cannot panic. He must remain rational. He must think.

 

What’s happening? A voice, yet Angeal and Genesis are not reacting to it- therefore a voice in his head. And pain. They are highly likely connected. Why is there a voice in his head other than his own? An unknown psychic attack of some sort perhaps. Pain. But there are no monsters nearby. Is it truly just one voice? Pain. The way it echoes makes it sound as though there is a cacophony of voices all overlapping into one. Pain, pain, pain-

 

“Yo… nt… ood…” Sephiroth squints at Angeal’s moving lips, for some reason the man’s voice sounds as if he were attempting to speak through the lab’s testing room glass window in the observation deck without using the microphone installed. Yet Angeal is still standing directly next to him, he shouldn’t sound so distant. Regardless, one cannot thwart spies from Wutai or collect valuable information during his own bouts of espionage if he were unable to read lips. So Sephiroth still catches Angeal’s full “You don’t look good.”

 

While being unable to hear Angeal’s voice, he continues to hear another.

 

L̴̺̜̱̫̺͙̉́͌̋̚ͅȩ̷̰͚̈́͋̉͝͝g̴̛̜̬͙͙͒̄̐ä̶̢̛̝̲͖̭́͌͐̐ḉ̴̩͇̠̉̑̎̑y̸̳̜͎̜͉̆͒͜ ̶͚̩̟̮͎̱̇̈́͊̂̿̚ȍ̶̮f̵͈̾̓ͅ…̵͕̰̬͈̭̭͉̏̄ ̴̪͖́̓̇̓ḥ̷̢̲̍̀̒̽͘ę̶͙̭̯̣͋̏͐̋̅̎͝r̵͕̀̃̃o̶̧̢͈͉̼̲̓ĕ̸͉͍̼̥̓̾̇͘̕ͅś̶̛͉̺̬̠͂̊̔̏͜͝…̷̖͈̭̻̲͓͗͑̊͑͘

 

The buzzing in his ears tries to drown out the voices, despite them being spoken directly into his own mind, Sephiroth finds it hard to piece together the sounds with all this… interference? Does it act similarly to radio waves? Radios certainly become staticy and muffled should there be too much distance from a proper source. Where could the source for this be coming from?

 

C̵͉͚̠̣͚̱͗̏͌̇̔̚h̶̡̹̳̩̳̲̭̬͍̺͓̣̍͗͗̾̓ͅạ̸̢̢̛̜̟̏͌̑̎̇͌͒̚ͅo̶̡̢̨̹͖̫͎̲̬̫̕s̷͍̿̀̚…̸̘̎͝ ̵͇̻̩͂̿̀̌̀̋͝b̶̨̡͇̤͓̲̺͖̱̣̙̗̝͉̜̆̎̊̉̆̌ͅó̴̡͕͕̱̭͖̿̓͂̇̎̀̊̚ŭ̸̙̻̼͓̼̙̦̍̓͊̈́̈́̀͆͑͋́̒͝n̶̢͉̪͕͓̪̜̹̯̻͉̿̄͋̈́̓̉̅͂̽̈́̎̈̚̚d̷̨̡̨̮͓͚̭̰͙̰͕͐̋͋͌…̴̼͚͍̮̉͌̽̃͆̇̓̾̐͊̉̚͝

 

Sephiroth stumbles out of his chair, forcing himself to scan his tent for a potential source through the pain- a monster, someone with an unknown materia, a new poison or toxin spreading in the air, anything - and is met with nothing apart from two worried faces and their moving mute lips. Perhaps this attack has a longer range than-

 

A hiss escapes from between his teeth, that pressure trailing further out now, specifically around his eyes, the pain a whisper across them until it grows and grows, as though a silent threat to burst the blood vessels there. Should he pluck out his own eyes? They will regrow. No that is a foolish pain hindered plan, he is still on a battlefield, blinding himself here is unacceptable. The professor would have him on the surgical table for daring to even think something so stupid even if he doesn't do it to check that Sephiroth’s brain is truly intact.

 

 

R̴͙͓̺̼̟͊̓̈̃́̎̓̎̊̓́̌̆̂͘͠ͅẻ̸̡̨͙̘̣̗͔̹̙̦̽̂̀̊͛͂͘m̸̛̮̙̲̄̃̃̂́̑̊̈̃̒̕ơ̸̟̟̱̜͍̱̭̥̟̩͎̥̦̬̱͙̾̃̿̀̿̀͑v̴̢̹͔̪͉̰͔̤̙̟̖̈́́̌͋͐̇̿̇̂̅͋̍̎̕͠ë̶̝̩̪͇͈̺̦͇̰̲̱̽̀̂̽̾̎̅͑̈̋́̈́͠ ̸̧̱̜̠̭̩͇̭͈̳́͊͒̿̿̏̃̋̿̏̏͂̓͠t̸̢̧̠͖̲͈͈̪͎͉̩̩͆͆͐͆̓͂͐̌̄̂̑́̚͝͝h̴̡͍͂̽̉́̈́͊̐̕͝͠ę̸̡̢̧͖̳̥̟̟̯̣̟͔̅͋͗́ͅ ̸̬͈͎͌̃̎̈́̕r̴̙̭̟͔̟̙͌̌ọ̴͎͔͖̩̪̻͖́͆̈́͛͗̃̀̂͝t̴̨̰̙̲͉̭͓͈̿͆̂̉́͗͑͊̇͛̿̃̈͘͘͝.̸̡̺̩̥͈͕͉̗͎̯̠̥͈͐̈́̐

 

 

And just like that it all ceases. The pressure, the static, the voices. Sephiroth nearly falls face first into his own desk from the sheer relief, hands snatch both his arms to become the harness that prevents such an outcome as his legs fail him. The feeling of a cool leather glove against his chest draws Sephiroth’s harried attention, he notes the light sheen of sweat across his skin, the faster rise and fall of his chest, and the fact that the leather is red.

 

“Sephiroth…?”

 

Ah, Genesis. His voice is a much more welcome sound compared to minutes ago- how much time has passed throughout the entirety of the attack? A warmth along his face trails down his chin and he watches as a dark splat of red meets the unmoving leather clad hand supporting his torso. Sephiroth can even see the swirls of mako green within the dark red. It’s a familiar sight.

 

“Your nose is bleeding.” Angeal states the obvious.

 

“Yes it is.” Sephiroth confirms anyway.

 

A flurry of green light washes across his vision as Genesis casts a Curaga, immediately the magic stops the flow of his bleeding nose and he takes tissues offered by Angeal to clean up his face.

 

“We’re taking you to the medical tent. That was not an ordinary migraine even for you.”

 

Silence draws a pause across the room. Should he…

 

“All that awaits you is a sombre morrow, no matter where the winds may blow. I know that look, Sephiroth, we are taking you there, you will let them make sure you are not about to collapse and die, and it is not negotiable.” Genesis commands and with a flourish of his hand, casting a fire to the pile of bloodied tissues with a sniff.

 

He feels his lips twitch into a near twist before he smooths it back out, facts are prudent in these situations, “I am not going to collapse and die.” Even if it is startling how quickly the pain arrived and receded just now, he feels… fine.

 

Before he can do anything else, Angeal’s hand returns to his arm and there is a look on the man’s face he has seen on occasion and this is when he knows he will only waste what little energy he has left if he fights their concern.

 

Angeal has entered what he recalls Genesis dubbing “Mother Hen” mode.

 

…

 

As much as Sephiroth hates visiting any type of medical personnel, he truly did not fight his fellow Firsts as they dragged him across the camp to the medical tent. Only for it to turn out that the trip is completely unnecessary. He felt much the same as he did before the… attack(?) occurred. Yet Sephiroth quelled any potential protests within himself as such a random attack, should there be signs of further issues to his functionality, could certainly lead to compromising his efficiency and success here at the front. He didn't dare share that he heard voices and left out some details here and there. Sephiroth knows all too well that his condition will be reported to Hojo, and if it is possible he is not going to allow the professor another excuse to call him back to Midgar's labs when his men need him here more.

 

After the medics have deemed him fit to return to his tent, nothing of note to be said about Sephiroth’s condition despite the… episode, Sephiroth finds himself falling into an unignorable exhaustion that demands rest so fast he may as well have jumped off the Shinra building’s roof. Shaking off any further concern from Angeal is the true challenge, no matter how many times he's faced his mother hen tendencies in the past. If it continues longer than today, he will soon have a perfect indent of Angeal’s face on his glove from pushing the hovering face away from him.

 

So he decides to take a quick nap at the very least. After resting he can hopefully awake in an hour or two to continue fighting against his mountains of paperwork. Sephiroth will not tolerate falling behind when there had already been the distraction of Genesis’ presence to hinder his progress even before this migraine issue.

 

Drawing back the fabric that creates his doorway and strolling inside his tent, despite the alarming episode that occurred here earlier, has his shoulders relaxing however minutely and a siren call of that promised nap has his feet carrying him to his bed without stopping.

 

The gods must be tricksters, laughing down at him, for more to happen today to foil his simple plans of conquering paperwork.

 

Instead of seeing the pristinely made bed (which Genesis had called an absolutely hellishly uncomfortable, to anybody other than Sephiroth, military cot monstrosity with bare bone blankets) he’d left behind this morning, he spots a lumpy disruption. Sephiroth doesn’t dare blink in case the image before him… well, actually, he thinks perhaps his sanity would be restored if he blinked and it disappeared-

 

Sephiroth blinks once. 

 

He removes his hand from Masamune’s hilt now that it appears it is not secretly a bomb from their enemies. Except the truth of the matter could be considered worse than a bomb.

 

He blinks once more.

 

Nope. Still there.

 

The swaddled infant currently sleeping on his bed is still there.

 

After a few more minutes of blankly staring at the infant’s sleeping face, a few more testing blinks in case it’d disappeared on its own, Sephiroth decides to take action.

 

With a spin on his heel, Sephiroth whisks out of his tent. The night air is grounding in its chill as his glowing gaze swiftly scans the softly illuminated camp.

 

Some of the soldiers milling about the camp near his tent pause at the sudden appearance of silver hair and black leather. Sephiroth’s eyes are darting around the many faces staring back at him, but none appear to be worried as a family member would be if their infant were missing... Neither are there any attempts to smother smiles or laughter which indicates a prank (not that many have the courage to play pranks on him apart from Genesis and Angeal)... but that leaves Sephiroth with still no answers to the odd occurrence sleeping in his tent.

 

“...sir?”

 

Sephiroth’s eyes snap to the Third-Class SOLDIER, who to their credit manages to keep their flinch minute enough to not be blatantly rude, “Soldier.” He acknowledges.

 

With a brief glance to the other SOLDIERs nearby the Third-Class gathers up courage, “Uh, are you alright?” Belatedly the SOLDIER tacks on, “Sir.”

 

“I need a perimeter sweep and once it’s completed the results are to be reported directly to me.” At such orders the seriousness on the surrounding soldiers’ faces settle into place as professionalism takes hold but before the SOLDIER could dismiss himself, Sephiroth adds on, “And do so swiftly.” Who knows how much of a head start the child’s deliverer has had to escape, although the most reasonable conclusion is that the child appeared while he was away at the medical tent… is the child connected to the migraine and voices at all? Before Sephiroth can dwell on such thoughts long, the SOLDIER salutes and spins around to walk their way and direct the others nearby able to assist with the sweep.

 

With that matter settled for now, the First-Class escapes back into his tent away from any prying eyes. Which leads to a rare miscalculation as it sends him directly back to the predicament he has yet to understand how to proceed with going forward.

 

There is no example for the First-Class to reference when it comes to such a situation as this. Though he supposes at the very least he knew not to look to Hojo of all people for assistance when it came to interacting with- well, anyone (or any thing for that matter). Which leaves only Angeal as any possible reference to draw upon. Genesis can barely be trusted with full-grown adult soldiers some days, at least in regards to keeping them from earning a fireball thrown their way, let alone an infant so he is out too.

 

With this conclusion, Sephiroth slowly approaches the small bundle on his bed. As he finally stands directly beside the infant he poses the most important question to himself for such an unfathomable situation.

 

What would Angeal do?

 

Panic. 

 

Yes, Angeal would panic over the baby being in such a dangerous location as an army encampment within a war zone in the middle of enemy territory. The survival of children is of great importance. Which means Sephiroth must first confirm it is alive and healthy if it is to survive such conditions until it is relocated.

 

Leaning forward draws a silver curtain around the baby (how is it this small? Was he ever so small? That seems nigh impossible though he understands rationally infancy is how all humans begin life) while Sephiroth observes the slow but steady rise and fall where the infant’s chest should be located under the mass of fabric it is imprisoned within.

 

A successful confirmation that the infant is alive. But… How does he confirm whether it is healthy? With only one frame of reference, he observes the infant as he would any soldier on the battlefield for signs of injury.

 

Hoping it will lead him to the answer, slit pupils sweep over the small body and assess the exposed skin poking out from its odd attire and imprisonment method. The pale skin has a faint rosy flush on chubby cheeks while the baby’s mouth is occupied with a small… pacifier that’s what they were called. Its tiny nose, now that he pays it more attention, sounds to be whistling softly in a mockery of a true snore with the infant’s pleasant sleep. Then there are the near sand white strands of hair- or rather fuzz atop its head where a nightcap with miniature chocobos prancing across the light blue fabric does not obscure the hair from view. Poking out from the top of the blanket wrap is a shirt collar that matches the child's hat. Finally the darker blue blanket, lacking any chocobos or other designs, wrapped snugly around the baby’s body does not appear to be hindering its breathing so Sephiroth assumes it is alright to leave it be for now.

 

Except Sephiroth still has next to no experience with infants to reference from for what can be considered ‘healthy’ of all things… Deciding on the next best thing, he removes a golden materia from his person, the orb is a stark star against the black of his leather gloves as he rolls it into an empty slot in his bangle. Sephiroth then raises his hand and casts an assess. Assess readily tells him that there are no obvious ailments or detrimental effects upon the child so he takes that as confirmation enough that the baby is in fact healthy.

 

Before the young man can take pride in completing the basic steps in affirming the healthy continued existence of the baby bed thief, the child squirms. Freezing in place, Sephiroth doesn’t dare breathe as the tiny form wiggles about, a scrunched expression wrinkling its face accompanied by a hefty huff from such little lungs.

 

What would Angeal do? Leave the child be for it to settle or offer it comfort of some sort? 

 

Sephiroth’s fingers twitch in uncertainty as they hang uselessly at his side until finally he decides to use his own experiences for such an instance. Awaiting the wild animals or monsters to settle to sneak past them when their discretion is top priority but the deaths of the wildlife is needless seems to be an appropriate experience to use. Thus, he waits.

…

…

…

The silence continues as the baby settles once more a lack of any further changes to its surroundings leaving it to resume its peaceful rest. Sephiroth only remembers to breathe when he hears footsteps arriving towards the entrance to his tent. Ah yes, the patrol.

 

With a quiet flutter of his duster, the General makes his way out of his private section and back into the office end, arriving at the flap of his tent just in time. As he is not willing to tolerate any potential disturbances to a certain bed thief, Sephiroth pulls the flap back and exits the tent with an expectant look sent down to the panting Third-Class soldier before him.

 

“S-Sir, perimeter sweep is done. Nothing of note spotted, sir. Should we do the sweep again?”

 

Sephiroth’s lips purse softly along with a minute pinch to his brows as his gaze flicks back at his tent for less than a second. How unfortunate. It seems this situation is much more complicated than he had anticipated. Especially when he wishes to eat his dinner and then get sleep off his exhaustion from the migraine before they attempt any missions the following day to gain more ground. Oh and the fact that if this is a missing child, its caretaker would most likely want it returned as soon as possible.

 

Catching a whiff of the sweat practically pouring down the young Third-Class (did the boy think he would get into trouble if he took too long?) Sephiroth figures that if there were no evident signs of an intruder, one he’s beginning to suspect must be a fellow soldier or other Shinra personnel with access to the camp, it is not worth further pursuit at this time. Just as he opens his mouth to inform the young man of his decision, the sound of a certain baby sneezing may as well be a thunderclap in the quiet only filled by the Third’s heavy panting. Despite Sephiroth knowing that his hearing and that of a Third’s are in different leagues, even an ordinary civilian might have been able to catch it.

 

Sephiroth attempts to provide a convincing expression of calm, outwardly not reacting even minutely to the sound, and can only hope the Third didn’t hear that, “No, it is not a concern should you find nothing. Simply a precaution. Dismissed.” Sephiroth answers, hoping to shut down any opportunity for the encounter to continue lest the Third start asking questions.

 

The Third-Class salutes with a strong “Sir!” Before going back to whatever duties the General had pulled him away from. Sephiroth returns into his tent and with the privacy of his own quarters, he allows the weakness of a sigh worthy of the day's chaos to finally escape past his lips. All that’s been made clear is that there is no simple solution to this predicament and no clear cause. Even if the child were somehow connected to his migraine, why would they have such a powerful weapon capable of incapacitating him be revealed solely to leave behind an infant on his bed? It doesn’t make sense.

 

To find himself with little guidance left to navigate this odd turn of events, Sephiroth strides back over to his desk, sits himself down and begins to think.

 

__________________________________________

 

Kunsel may not have the same aspirations of becoming a First-Class like his fellow Third-Class SOLDIERs, like c’mon he’s just become a Third, why does he need to already start thinking about First? But his lack of typical SOLDIER aspiration is not due to a lack of confidence with his own skills. Nope, he knows himself pretty well and those Shinra tests only go so far and have huge gaps that make it too easy to start overlooking a person's true strengths and potential.

 

As soon as Sephiroth had ordered him to do a perimeter sweep, he knew something must have happened to raise The General’s caution. He nearly grabbed a weapon right then and there to look for the threat that had caught the First Class' attention. And despite being caught off guard by the General’s appearance (yes he was walking past the tent but everyone kind of knows Sephiroth likes privacy when he can get it and doesn’t come out unless necessary which only further proves his point that something was wrong) Kunsel treated the sweep as seriously as such a situation called for. They were at war after all. He hasn’t been on the front long, it was long enough to learn some hard truths though, like how even a seemingly ordinary perimeter sweep can turn into a sniper bullet to your buddy’s head. Followed by the fact that even before you can register the bright splatter of marble bone and pink brains that had had a name is gone, armed fighters are charging at you seeking more blood to- 

 

No stop thinking about it.  

 

So when he returned with nothing of note to report, he tried not to let the sense of uselessness take over, nor the incessant itch that it would be his fault if his comrades died because he couldn’t pick up a threat in time. The incessant itch to find out is more irritating than a week’s worth of mud and blood attempting to become a second skin, somehow they are always bypassing Kunsel’s clothes and helmet and getting everywhere like sand. It didn’t help that sometimes there was also sand from Wutai’s many beaches.

 

He’d kill for a shower. And when he’s in a literal battlefield, that’s not as unlikely of a scenario as it once was back in Midgar.

 

Anyway…

 

Interestingly enough though, Sephiroth himself didn’t seem too surprised that nothing came from the perimeter sweep. Not that Kunsel would dare think he could read Sephiroth of all people perfectly.

 

Except… maybe- just maybe - Kunsel thought that at some point during their conversation Sephiroth looked… well, the only word that comes to mind is startled . Nah. That couldn’t be. Sephiroth has probably never been caught off guard before. Kunsel must have been seeing things.

 

Just like how he thought he heard a tiny sneeze from inside Sephiroth’s tent, he must have been imagining it.

 

It was probably just Hewley or Rhapsodos if anything; they always linger around Sephiroth at some point when they are in close proximity. This is one of the rare moments where all three of the famous trio are at the front, Sephiroth and Genesis are on their rotation, whereas Hewley had been asked to escort important supplies, thus he is only momentarily away from the Shinra Building. At least that's what Kunsel could find out from the gossip so far. So Kunsel finds that Hewley or Rhapsodos being the cause very probable, he is prepared to dismiss the interaction from his mind, when his traitorous self dares to not let it drop.

 

But what if it had been someone else? A Wutaian spy or scout?

 

Kunsel grins a little at the ridiculousness of the idea that anyone could sneak up on Sephiroth or manage to sneak into his tent. Yup, wouldn't happen.

 

There. It’s settled. 

 

With a clearer mind and lighter step now that he wasn’t gasping for air after overestimating his stamina a little so as to not keep Sephiroth of all people waiting, Kunsel heads towards his original destination: food.

 

Yeah the rations and MREs are a test in their own rights to who can really cut it at Shinra but sometimes, like today, they pilfered fresher food from abandoned farmlands that Wutai hadn’t been able to entirely burn down before they reached them. So it was a rare treat of real food, though it wasn’t going to last for long with SOLDIER appetites and an army’s desperation for lost normalcy during a war.

 

Even if you weren’t the information collector type like Kunsel, it’s pretty easy to find your way to the food by the sheer volume of the tent compared to the rest of the camp. So he hears his destination before it even comes into view amongst the identical green mass of tents surrounding it. Kunsel ducks into the mess hall tent and is happily surprised to see some food still left! Yes! Just as he prepares to get in line he spots familiar red and black silhouettes from out the corner of his eye.

 

There they were with their unmistakable attire and even more unmistakable swords, sitting at one of the smaller tables as the pair whisper to each other throughout their meal. A very fierce conversation by the looks of it but even he's not dumb enough to try to listen in on those two. Besides, they were practically on top of each other with how close they were sitting together and their faces near pressed cheek to cheek. They'd notice him asap even if he tried blending into the background. Though he no longer wonders why people gossip about how close the pair truly are. It doesn’t change the soft frown that takes over Kunsel’s lips as that incessant little voice of his comes back.

 

Hewley and Rhapsodos... They were both here.

 

So… who was in Sephiroth’s tent?

 

__________________________________________

 

Routine is an essential tool to a human’s mental capacities to function within the turbulent state of being that is living. Animals and monsters alike have their own routines, eat, mate, reproduce, sleep, die. Humans do all of those things as well, although some are done more often than others, differing from person to person which they indulge in most.

 

After sneaking swiftly in and out of the mess hall for something not quite so tasteless as his Hojo approved provisions, once he noticed a lack of both Angeal and Genesis’ presence within and an assurance the mysterious infant would continue sleeping without supervision that is, Sephiroth pilfered some tolerable sustenance. Then he promptly swept back towards his tent to not leave a certain anomaly alone too long.

 

One may ask, why hasn't Sephiroth told anyone of the presence within his tent? Sought out assistance to resolving this breach in security? It is a simple answer really. This may be a test. It is not uncommon for the professor to drop abrupt tests, experiments, and missions to complete on top of whatever other tasks Shinra demand of him to complete. In this case, the professor may be testing how well he can keep a person alive while in an active war zone or perhaps Shinra wants to get pictures of him keeping the babe safe and slap on another false story of heroism. Perhaps the professor even made something to induce a psychic attack to distract Sephiroth and they could place the child in his quarters. So when it comes down to it, finding assistance can wait. Either this is a Shinra induced issue which will be explained to him in due time. Or it is not the scheming of Shinra and he remains without a current lead to what is going on. The latter option will need time to investigate and the best course of action is to not draw more attention than he already has lest the mastermind behind this odd turn of events decide they must flee if they haven't already.

 

Therefore he can eat dinner and sleep first, then deal with the larger issue at hand in the morning. It has been a long day and he will be more efficient in whatever tasks he must handle in the morning than any futile efforts attempted this evening. Or at least that's the excuse he has prepared should any question him.

 

With a soft sigh that may or may not be from mild contentment or resignation or both, Sephiroth leans back in his desk chair as he rests the fork down atop his cleared tray.

 

Now that his stomach is no longer empty, his mind is slowly becoming clearer with the energy being sapped away from his stomach's contents… meaning Sephiroth has to face the presence within his bed once more. The smaller issue at hand that continues to perplex him... Does he sleep on his couch while the infant continues to hijack his bed?

 

It takes far too little time to walk from his makeshift desk of a folding table to his cot to assess the situation in whole. By the time the trip is over, his mind still has yet to come up with any thoughts. All except one when he finally looks at his commandeered cot.

 

Red. They’re so red.

 

Uncertain how to proceed, Sephiroth sits on the edge of the cot, next to the babe staring up at him, and does the only thing he can think of, “Hello, I am Sephiroth. Are you capable of speech?”

 

The baby blinks at him with sleepy curiosity, but does not wail or become fearful. That is what occurred rather frequently when Sephiroth had been told to take pictures with infants once upon a time. Shinra’s PR team quickly ceased those attempts with how each infant screamed in fear when he’d hold them or even simply get too close. To have this lack of reaction… an odd warmth seems to swell within his chest and there is a sort of anticipation- excitement perhaps? At the very least he already deems children far more enjoyable when they are not testing their auditory torture on his enhanced ears.

 

“Ah.” The baby replies, Sephiroth decides that regardless of the act of responding, it is confirmation to the child's lack of proper speech due to a failure to use proper vocabulary. He watches as the baby begins wiggling about within its swaddle, its brows quickly scrunching up as its grunting and squirming seem near futile to escape.

 

As the baby’s frustration grows and grows alongside the redness flushing across the babe’s face, the oval pupils constrict as it releases a mighty cry and yanks its arms free, “Aaah!”

 

Sephiroth’s breath catches at the sight of slit pupils, his heart stuttering and his blood pumping with Shiva’s touch until he can no longer move, not even to blink.

 

Despite not fully escaping the blanket, the infant heaves itself into impressive roll then crawls its way towards Sephiroth. The crawling would prove less ineffective had its chubby legs not still been confined. Only when the infant grabs hold of Sephiroth’s hair without fear, using the silvery rope to pull itself up onto its feet does it- smack its face directly into Sepiroth’s stomach guard as its balance fails the child.

 

The baby falls back onto the cot with wide stunned eyes, its gaze snapping up to Sephiroth’s own still stunned face, seeking something from him that Sephiroth could never guess and therefore cannot provide.

 

A familiar scrunch to the baby’s face warns Sephiroth before the tears even begin to collect in those vibrant and so very expressive eyes. A foreign sensation settles within Sephiroth’s gut and despite his mind remaining blank, his hands reach out with intentions that are a mystery even to Sephiroth himself.

 

The teary babe hiccups but before it can begin its sobbing or wails, it notices Sephiroth’s gloved hands and oddly enough, presses its face into the leather covered palm and nuzzles into the stranger’s touch as though it were familiar instead. Going so far as to wrap its arms around his wrist to keep it there, only to become distracted by his bangle. Sephiroth tentatively caresses the small face, his hand easily encompasses the small skull, he could pick up the baby by its head if he truly wished- such a terrifying thought immediately has Sephiroth applying only the barest of pressures as he strokes his thumb along the warm chubby cheek to rid it of tears.

 

Hoping a quieter tone may soothe the babe, Sephiroth asks softly, ”Are you hurt?”

 

”Eeehhh…” The infant complains but thankfully keeps itself from creating too much fuss, shiny bangles appear effective in deterring tears. And despite its choppy movements, arms lacking any smooth motion, the baby swipes at its own face as though it wishes to rid itself of the tears as well. All it manages is to remove the chocobo cap atop its head, leaving the mass of wild white strands uncovered. When it deems its own efforts futile, the crimson eyes droop and blink sleepily, to which the child directs a grunt and scowl at some unseeable force within the empty air.

 

“Oh.” Finally the pieces click within Sephiroth’s mind, how odd how apparent it seems now. If a child is tired, caretakers rock them to sleep. A leather clad hand cups the child’s head, as he witnessed civilian parents do while he passed them by, or even employees within Shinra itself showcasing their new offspring to their colleagues. Typically the children (toddlers was the term wasn’t it?) from the failed attempts at photographs were older and capable of holding their large heads up on their own without issue. This baby seems slightly younger still… So yes, he will support the head, their necks remain weak for quite a while he remembers. Even if the infant can hold its own head up, it would be similar to any newly worked muscles, strain can occur if not given breaks, therefore he will take that burden from the child when possible. 

 

Sephiroth calls to mind the instructions on proper holding positioning from his rescue mission training for civilian lives, or rather the rescue of important employees and their family's. Although that was a considerably small percentage of his training… He is uncertain if that is due to Shinra’s negligence towards civilian lives, their priority for him to destroy the enemy before any true rescue of any sort is necessary, or if they were truly important then the Turks would sooner be called to handle the situation than Sephiroth.

 

Regardless, Sephiroth recalls the moments buried through the years and uses them now as a reference in such an unforeseen situation. When he lifts the child into his arms, he can’t help but be shocked at the barely noticeable weight that settles there. He may as well be holding a thick stack of reports from his desk. Unlike any paperwork however, the baby squirms in his light grip with displeasure, “Aaaeehh!”

 

Is it... offended? It is acting rather like Genesis, the man himself makes any felt offence known immediately, no matter the hour. His guess is confirmed. The round legs of the child spring out to force the point home, as though Sephiroth would be staved off by some squirming or the kick of an ordinary child of all- A well placed kick to his stomach guard momentarily stuns Sephiroth as the blow hurts. Not only is there pain, he can already tell, referencing another of the innumerable tests by the professor and countless missions, that it will bruise for however brief his enhanced healing will allow for it to last.

 

How the-

 

All thoughts swirl into an unknown abyss as Sephiroth tries to make sense of how an infant could possibly have the strength to accomplish such a feat. Even if Sephiroth had been caught unawares it remains what should have been a near impossible accomplishment for this scale of pain reception. Only Angeal and Genesis have had the strength to even come close to matching his own. The two fellow Firsts would be the ones most likely to wear him down overtime with their blows if they ever managed to land them properly, but by now with the significant gaps between them all… the pain of their blows have lessened. Especially compared to their younger years when Angeal and Genesis received injections before Hojo upped Sephiroth's own dosage. Those few days remain the most noteworthy in regards to Angeal's and Genesis' efforts during their sparring matches against him. So for a baby to be able to land a kick that registers on Sephiroth's desensitized pain receptors, leaves him with only one question.

 

If the infant is this strong already, how strong will it be when fully grown?

 

With a butterfly-like flutter of long dark lashes, Sephiroth’s gaze fixes itself on the infant still squirming with little grunts in his unrelenting grip.

 

No harm done. Forgiveness for an infant’s flailing at such an age is appropriate as far as he’s aware, as infants have no proper form of communication and far less controllable motor functions.

 

Perhaps… 

 

Perhaps this is another similarity they share, along with their unique eyes. Does that make this child another of Hojo’s projects to clone him? None have come close to replicating Sephiroth, he knows that as a fact due to the professor’s own gloating during Sephiroth’s testing. But the professor was also a part of that group as well… Depending on the day he would occasionally grumble about none of his other specimens coming close to Sephiroth’s success despite those previous bouts of gloating. It is an odd mix of pride and exasperation. Though he did not know much more than the fact that Hojo wished to create more SOLDIERs and continued to take DNA samples from Sephiroth to make these attempts. A selfish part of Sephiroth hadn’t thought too much about it.

 

Until now that is.

 

The man carefully sets the child down upon his lap so he doesn't accidentally drop the child. Its feet and hands continue to jab at Sephiroth’s own limbs as the man begins sorting through crumbs of information Hojo spilled here and there about his other specimens. There are... only three possibilities that Sephiroth can entertain for these odd circumstances. The professor has succeeded in making a noteworthy clone or specimen following similar parameters to Sephiroth's own development, this child is from that elusive side project the professor refers to as Deepground, or someone else has created a specimen of Sephiroth's caliber. Regardless of the child's origins, none of these speculations explain why or how the child got here. Unhelpfully, this whole situation is leaving his mind light and swirling, but he doubts it's solely due to this brief lack of oxygen due to his stunned state. Sephiroth knows he can go without oxygen for up to an hour due to the underwater training and respiratory system testing he’s undergone, which makes the lightheadedness a somatization response.

 

”Eh beh mmeh.” The baby babbles nonsensically as it plants its feet atop Sephiroth’s thighs and using the leather straps crossing atop his chest, the infant hoists itself upright once more with its face flushing effort but keeps a wary attention to how close its head comes to Sephiroth’s body.

 

Unfortunately, the baby fails to not smack into him again. Sephiroth can’t help the brief minute quirk to his lips as the forehead smacks into his chest. At least it’s not the hard leather of his stomach guard again. The babe seems to agree as it doesn’t draw away in pain but instead lifts its head, further tickling Sephiroth’s skin with the soft hairs atop the babe’s head, to stare up at Sephiroth with curiosity matching the man’s own unwavering slit pupils.

 

“…You have eyes like mine.” The man murmurs the observation to life, as though it were a secret he was forbidden from acknowledging, to the child. Hojo would have scoffed at his obvious observation and called him boy in that way that always felt like the sting of a scalpel to some unseen part of his body.

 

“Mmeh?” The babe wiggles about again until its hand clenches around its blanket to promptly shove the fabric into its slobbery mouth.

 

Charming, Sephiroth thinks dryly.

 

A contrast of colour amongst the blanket’s dark blue catches the man’s attention, with red thread a similar shade to the babe’s own eyes, swirling letters spell out-

 

“…Claude.”

 

Immediately the baby’s head snaps up, a startling awareness present in the crimson stare that is unmoving from Sephiroth’s visage. Adding further to the startling awareness, the babe- Claude questions, “Eh?” As though it were in lieu of an older human’s, ‘Yes?’ should their name have been called.

 

His mind once again whirls as he tries to find any information within his memory about the intellectual development and sense of self showcased within infants. He highly suspects this is an unordinary circumstance. However, he is known for not being the most aware of ‘ordinary’ things, let alone in relation to child development. It also doesn’t help that he doesn’t know the actual age of the child on his lap.

 

Claude’s face does that quickly becoming familiar scrunch to its light brows and small nose, then drops the blanket, some blue darker than the rest with the added baby slobber, to nuzzle against Sephiroth’s chest with a “Mmph.” That may… be a growing sense of boredom, or perhaps a… request for affection…? The only thing that seems clear is the child expecting him to respond in some way.

 

It is an odd sensation to feel the brush of skin against skin. Even more so when the skin of children is significantly softer than that of adults from the rare moments Sephiroth recalls being touched by another without a leather barrier between them. Sephiroth cannot determine whether it is… a good sensation or a bad one. There is a stiffness in his shoulders and he has to actively keep his hands loose instead of flexing around the child he is holding upright. It would not do to accidentally crush the child’s minuscule ribs. Slowly, with the same delicate touch required for defusing bombs, Sephiroth snakes his arms around the child, one under its rear in case its legs tire, the other behind its back so it will not tip over.

 

The child’s touch remains. In fact this Claude presses even closer once it is enclosed within Sephiroth’s arms, its face continuing to rub its cheeks against the bare skin of Sephiroth’s chest that his duster exposes. One small hand wraps around one of his leather straps again for balance while the other feels along everything within reach, leather, skin, metal buckles, his stomach guard…

 

In spite of being at the mercy of the child's groping, the mind boggling softness cannot remind him of bony hands pulling, prodding, or splitting him apart. Claude’s fingernails are trimmed to be blunt and so they do not remind him of the scrape of steel as they drag along his skin when the baby adjusts its clumsy grip on his leather straps. And the smell of baby powder along with a… Sephiroth gives another tentative sniff, jasmine and rose, perhaps some type of berry as well? He is not an expert on plants, but those are his best guesses for the remaining scent of the child’s shampoo. Either way, Claude’s scent is worlds away from disinfectants, mako, and bleach constantly sailing through the cold sterile air of the labs.

 

Yes… worlds away from Shinra, Hojo, and battle. A baby that shares inhuman eyes like his own. Strength no baby should be able to possess. Pale hair, albeit not entirely like his own with the feathery sort of attribute to it rather than lying flat. Although that may change as the baby grows. 

 

Perhaps Claude will look more like Sephiroth as time goes by... The thought sends a silent ripple of anticipation throughout him, similar to the first time he had experienced a true snowfall. It had not been a discovery, no, far too many simulation battle tests due to Hojo’s meticulousness for him to not be aware of snow and its dangers. 

 

And yet… 

 

Sephiroth recalls the utter quiet of the snowflakes as they fell straight from the grey clouds to the winter monochrome earth, for there was no wind nor breeze to sway them on their downward journey. So Sephiroth had stood still, as the world seemed to do, allowing the snow to be all that moved within the united stillness. Each snowflake an icy kiss against his red tinged skin from the air’s chill, his eyes never leaving the large clumps of snow as they descended towards him like white feathers.

 

What could he have possibly anticipated in such a tranquil moment? He wasn’t sure, and he still isn’t. But as Sephiroth had allowed himself a moment to feel the world around him, his heart began to quicken, his lips twitching though he kept the movement at bay, and the clarity of that brief moment of tranquility has never faded from his mind. Even the memory of the white snow painted red under his feet from his completed mission did not distract him from pondering over the odd reaction he had had with a calm fascination.

 

Then the moment broke as he saw Angeal watching him, with the same look in his eyes as when he’s trying to comfort dying soldiers. He’s still not sure what that look means. Except even then, Sephiroth felt a distance carved between them that even now he struggles to understand or at least ignore. The next time he experienced a snowfall, he did not spare a thought towards the fleeting flicker of that same anticipation, instead he kept his feet moving without slowing his pace. And well, eventually, that light flutter in his chest died. Snow was snow. Nothing more.

 

So even in this moment, Sephiroth does not understand the anticipation he feels towards this child. At least not until the words escaped the cage of his teeth and the world seemed to stop for them this time, stilling a world of battle, blood, fire and death, a world that knew him as a perfect weapon, a demon.

 

”You’re like me.” A forgotten child whispers through Sephiroth’s lips, to this stranger named Claude.

 

The babe tilts its head up at Sephiroth, munching on its own closed fist until it decides to offer comforting pats to the man’s chest, leaving glistening handprints against his skin.

 

Charming…

 

__________________________________________

 

Within an unknown mako spring…

 

He wakes.

 

Static and fog block his memories. Yet it is… Familiar, this feeling. 

 

Out. He needs to get out. 

 

His mind is unable to process his own body, its sensations, as one moment he is floating within the glittering pool, the next he is climbing up its bank. He doesn’t remember moving.

 

Remember… he has to remember… to breathe.

 

In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three. Good. No issues.

 

For a moment, he can’t look away as the spring green drops fall from the ends of his hair, from the bottom of his locket, and from the tip of his chin to fall between his squelching leather boots and burst like shattering diamonds.

 

There is… something else he needs to remember. It’s important. More important than remembering to breathe. His gaze drifts back to the locket swinging gently around his neck, a wolf's paw print engraved along the smooth silver.

 

What’s important…?

 

Why is it important to him?

 

Who… is he?

 

Champion. The Planet answers. How he knows it's her, he’s uncertain.

 

As though someone were increasing the brightness on their PHS screen, a glow grows stronger and stronger from within the spring.

 

Calamity Queller. She calls him, her voice not just in his mind, but in the air he breathes, the grass hugging his boots, the ground beneath his feet… in the mako clinging to his skin and weighing down his clothes.

 

Slowly his head turns to look over his shoulder guard at the mako spring, and he is met with the sight of swirling dust like tendrils. The tendrils flow through the air in invisible streams to coil around him. The glow intensifies for a moment until the cyclone falls apart like sand and disappears into nothingness.

 

All at once, Cloud Strife remembers.

 

He remembers who he is. He remembers what he has to do.

 

One last time… 

 

He repeats the promise to himself as he unhooks the Fusion Sword from his back and with a flick of his wrist flings off the layer of mako along its blades.

 

With a deep breath and sword in hand, Cloud Strife sets off to play a hero one last time.

 

Then everything will finally be over… no more ghosts to chase.

 

Sephiroth’s story will come to an end, for good.

Notes:

Woohoo! You made it to the end!

Thanks for reading the long ass introduction to my messy first attempt at a FF7 and Sefikura fic! The stage is set and chaos shall soon follow, muahahaha.

More is on the way but I can't promise every chapter will be this long. For this one I just felt that this was what I had wanted to write so this is how much I wrote. I am a write by the vibes kind of guy, which is part of the reason I can't keep a writing schedule to save my life.

I adore this story even if I don't know all of it yet so I'm looking forward to where it will take me.

Chapter 2: Solitude Washed Away

Summary:

Sephiroth realizes he doesn’t know anything about childcare. This has consequences.

Claude has yet to learn Stranger Danger. This too, has consequences.

Notes:

Eeeeyyyy! I did it! Another chapter! I sort of mildly hate this chapter but no more nitpicking for me, I want to get to the good stuff.

I did not expect this chapter to be pretty much just as long as chapter one, that being said it might feel longer as this one is all just Seph’s pov. We’ll get some more variety in the next one tho!

Chapter Warnings

CHILD ENDANGERMENT, baby spit up/vomit, near death of an infant, beginnings of a panic attack/panic attack, graphic depictions of violence, mention of past animal death/cruelty, intrusive thoughts of violence towards a baby.

As always let me know if I missed anything that should be added to the list. I try to cover my bases but warnings always make me question everything I think I know. If more in depth warnings like chapter one are wanted just let me know and I’ll add them somewhere.

There are steps one must take to care for a child. 

 

Sephiroth has no clue what these steps are. 

 

Nor does he know how he’d accomplish them while in an encampment of SOLDIERs waiting to strike another attack against Wutai. Sephiroth recalls that there is some usable service (ignoring the memory of a certain redhead as to why he knows that) for his PHS and opens it to begin his investigation. 

 

Chubby short fingers immediately enter his line of sight as Claude also attempts to join his research attempt by grabbing for his PHS with some more mild babble (which reminds Sephiroth to cast a Silence around them so no sound escapes from within the tent). 

 

It is easy to thwart the attempts by keeping the PHS out of reach while typing his first inquiry into the search tab for the internet with one hand and holding the child still with the other.

 

How to take care of an infant. He types as Claude begins to try crawling up his arms to reach for his prize but is easily sat safely back atop his lap.

 

Sephiroth blinks at the millions of search results and glances down at Claude who has, in the lack of a PHS to entertain them, taken to Sephiroth’s hair in a bid to try eating it. The baby blinks up at him innocently, maintaining eye contact as it takes another handful of hair into its mouth.

 

Wonderful. Baby slobber in his hair. Hopefully that washes out.

 

But that does give Sephiroth an idea for more efficient direction with his second search request after scrolling through some options to his first search result. There was… quite a lot to account for actually. He will focus on those most important to the child’s survival first and foremost.

 

What do babies eat?

 

Scanning the information he is provided for a few minutes, Sephiroth comes to an easy conclusion.

 

He does not have breast milk. This will be a high hurdle to overcome should they not acquire some soon somehow.

 

Apparently breastmilk is the main form of sustenance for an infant until it is approximately six months old, and even then that is when one can introduce the baby to solids, not toss out the milk from their diet entirely. Formula is another option apart from milk directly from a lactating mother’s breasts, only they have neither.

 

Sephiroth’s eyes drift back to Claude who has now deserted the silver strands as a chewing toy to instead show interest in Sephiroth’s numerous belts with shiny metal buckles, feeling along the grooves or tugging at them until impatience earns them some slaps and whatever “Bah bah nnaaaahh!” Is supposed to mean.

 

He does not know how to check whether Claude is of an appropriate age to feed solids to. He certainly doesn’t want to starve the child, yet how is he to know whether or not solids would be a possibility until… Sephiroth found a proper alternative?

 

With a few more searches Sephiroth creates a brief checklist to estimate the infant’s age.

 

Holding their own head up? Check.

 

Able to stand up on their own? With some assistance for balance, yes, Claude can in fact stand.

 

Capable of speech? 

 

Sephiroth attempts once more to get Claude to speak but it is clear that one is a no. Even with the previously startling recognition towards their name, only incoherent babble is ever returned.

 

Are any teeth coming in?

 

Claude reasonably fusses as Sephiroth presses a finger into the child’s mouth to feel for any teeth. Hmm… no, no teeth yet. 

 

“Gnn!” Pressure builds around the tip of his finger and Sephiroth stares down at the baby chewing on his finger with a rather impressive scowl. Perhaps he has unintentionally insulted the baby? 

 

Sephiroth tilts his head at the sight but does not relinquish his finger, even with his leather glove it is a curious sensation, certainly not painful- ah! This must be the so-called teething mentioned. If it will assist the child to relieve any aching gums, Sephiroth sees no reason to prevent the behaviour. 

 

Perhaps he can improve the experience a bit…

 

With the faintest of brush of a blizzard spell to his glove, Claude squeaks in surprise before returning their gums to his glove with renewed gusto and… mlem-ing sounds? 

 

What an odd little creature. But Claude now has a sufficient makeshift teething toy. A swell of pride rises in Sephiroth’s chest for accomplishing this small victory. Although it just as swiftly recedes.

 

Proper nourishment for the infant remains an issue.

 

As Sephiroth wiggles his fingers to entice the child, those slit pupils expanding before gums latch around a chilled leather clad finger, he wonders. He wonders about the child, its origins. He wonders about why he has not attempted to at least bring the infant to Angeal for some… most likely proper advice on caretaking.

 

Except when he entertains the idea of letting anyone know of this child, they all conclude with the same predictable outcome.

 

Claude would be taken from him. There is a high probability he’d never even see Claude again afterward.

 

That thought… feels unacceptable? He has to keep his fingers from reflexively clenching around the child in a flare of displeasure and a burning mine echoing through his being.

 

Sephiroth stares down at the pale haired infant chewing on his fingers. The glow to the baby’s eyes reminds him of the few times he’s been able to witness blood moons while deployed out on a mission or to Wutai when he had yet to return to Shinra before nightfall on a random day at the proper time of year. Despite the contrasting colours between them, those pupils are still reacting to movement just like his own would.

 

They are not the eyes of a human.

 

They are Sephiroth’s eyes.

 

“Claude.”

 

The infant looks up at him while continuing to chew against his fingers, a lack of interest causing the eyes to become half lidded, perhaps even drowsy.

 

A gnawing sensation begins to chew against Sephiroth’s stomach much like that of Claude’s treatment to his fingers. In a small whisper Sephiroth can’t help but ask, “…what do I do?”

 

Claude’s stomach grumbles, displeasure pulling the child’s brows together where they had previously been slack with relaxation. A more ferocious albeit still harmless bite to his fingers is answer enough.

 

For now it is enough direction to distract Sephiroth from the odd reactions he is having to this child. A mission. He is good at completing missions.

 

Time to find food. Somehow.

 

…

 

It is rather simple to fashion a makeshift sling to place the infant into by combining Sephiroth's numerous belts and Claude’s blanket. He certainly didn’t expect to use the straps along his chest to hold a baby instead of simply keeping his stomach guard in place.

 

Using another minor blizzard spell, this time on the pacifier forgotten on his cot, Sephiroth believes Claude to be as comfortable as can be while leaving Sephiroth with as much mobility as possible.

 

Wrapping Claude securely in the blanket had been… more challenging than expected with a wiggling body and kicking feet. Sephiroth hadn’t wanted to use too much strength and harm the child somehow, and the sound of Claude’s giggles as the babe yanked its leg free from Sephiroth’s attempts to confine it- had given Sephiroth enough pause for Claude to use the distraction to its fullest.

 

It took Sephiroth twenty minutes to finally wrap the child up.

 

Now for the biggest threat to his plan.

 

“Claude.” Yet again the infant looks up at him, those soft hairs tickling his skin as they blink up at him. “Mn.” Is the sound given in response.

 

His lips part before words are fully formed, then they press closed again. Will the child even understand anything beyond its name?

 

There isn’t any reason not to try, he supposes.

 

Sephiroth tries again, “We must be stealthy. We can’t draw attention to ourselves. I ask that you remain quiet until we are a safe distance away from the camp.” With only a brief moment more of hesitation, Sephiroth draws a finger to his lips (glove having been cleaned of any previous baby slobber) and speaks in a whisper to demonstrate, “Quiet. Yes?”

 

All he receives in return is Claude’s eyes flickering between Sephiroth’s eyes to his finger before slowly blinking. Then Claude rests their head against his chest once more and seems to melt further against Sephiroth with a soft sigh in a silent sign that it is ready to go.

 

Sephiroth supposes that is all he will get and can only hope for the best and suppresses any nerves that dare to try to spark any emotional hindrances.

 

So with a baby strapped to his chest and some supplies tucked away in a small pack on his back, they begin their first joint mission: sneak out of the Shinra encampment in search of food for Claude.

 

He removes any light within the tent before leaving so as to give off the impression that he is asleep. There isn’t much point to do anything else as someone willing to enter the tent would see through a lumpy shape on his cot rather quickly if there were a true emergency.

 

Sneaking past even his fellow SOLDIERs is a simple task for Sephiroth. Claude is the sole wildcard really, along with the possibility of Angeal, or rather Genesis, going to his tent for some reason while they are away.

 

As Sephiroth slips through the dark of night towards the edge of the camp, moving swiftly to reduce the chances of Claude losing patience and making a sound, he nearly wonders if Claude has fallen asleep with how quiet the infant remains. Except that is disproven when Sephiroth takes a brief glance down at the baby, Claude’s head swivelling back and forth as the camp entices their attention- and yet no sounds.

 

The night’s air is cool. Cool enough he is thankful for the child’s blanket to keep it warm, as Sephiroth can only do so much even if SOLDIERs run hotter as their baseline compared to unenhanced individuals. They have yet to surpass the part of spring where summer’s influence begins in full swing. He hopes his materia can keep whatever chill there is at bay, as he doubts he can escape another visit to medical without drawing the Professor’s attention, let alone one that won’t reveal his new companion.

 

He wonders if they will finally put an end to this war or if there still remains years of tearing Wutai apart until there is nothing left or Shinra grows tired of throwing the money necessary for a war at the wounded country.

 

Only when Sephiroth has trekked them into the forest, the camp growing smaller by the second with his inhuman speed, and he leaps over a large rock formation, does Claude’s squeal of delight at the rush of air and weightlessness finally break their vow of silence. The baby wiggles with energy until Sephiroth places a hand to its back to still them, not that it does much good.

 

He may as well have strapped a frog to his chest with how much Claude wiggles. Thankfully the child’s restraints hold strong.

 

Instead of continuing forward, he takes a moment to remain atop the rock formation. His eyes scan the moonlit darkness, the shadows cast by trees and brush to pick out enough details to follow his mental map of the area. Sephiroth keeps an ear out for any noises that may indicate they had been heard and when nothing of note is discovered, he gently pets the child’s head (as his research deemed positive reinforcement to be of high importance for infants), “Good baby.”

 

He should probably confirm the child’s sex to stop using terms such as it to refer to the infant, but he dreads the moment he will have to put his diaper changing research into practice. That is for later.

 

Right now they are to find food.

 

…

 

Their collection of strawberries is quite a success if Sephiroth says so himself as he scans their haul. Even without the assistance of his companion, with his sense of smell as a guide and observing the conditions where previous bundles grew, Sephiroth gathered an acceptable amount of fruit to create some form of sustenance for Claude until he could think of a better option.

 

Now to rinse them off to ensure they’d be safe for Claude’s consumption. Well, safer. 

 

The research demanded appropriate attention to hygiene and cleanliness as infants are much more susceptible to germs until their immune system has built itself up properly. Although, apparently he must find a middle ground to ensure Claude is introduced to germs and dirt for his immune system to know how to build itself.

 

Babies are terrifyingly and refreshingly challenging in a way Sephiroth continues to yearn to one day also find in battle.

 

Through the collective sounds of animals, chittering insects, and other nocturnal activity, Sephiroth follows the sound of water to a wide river.

 

Even with the blanket of the night’s darkness, Sephiroth can make out the clarity of the water and follows its movement towards a louder flow until they stand near the base of a small waterfall.

 

It’s a peaceful spot with smooth rocks and pebbles making the riverbed and lines the riversides, whereas larger rocks, some still rough others worn to smoother and no doubt slippery surfaces from the constant erosion, frame the waterfall itself both at the top and bottom of the eighteen feet drop. It's not the most secure place, he notes, as his boots crunch across the rocks, his eyes scanning the treelines, and staring up at the top of the waterfall where a monster, enemy, or other predator could hide before attempting to strike.

 

But it remains the safest point to gather water from without venturing too far into unknown territory (regardless of how many maps he memorizes this is unfamiliar terrain). So Sephiroth quietly sets up the tools he brought along with them, collecting some of the water into the pot with a quick dip under the waterfall and then casting fire underneath where it hangs above while rinsing the strawberries a few times as he waits for the water to boil.

 

Claude continues to sleep throughout, his cheek still squished against the pillow that is Sephiroth’s chest and the small even breaths tickling the man’s bare skin settles any previous nerves. The sensation is a reminder the baby is still living after all. A reminder that Sephiroth hasn’t failed to keep the little one safe… yet.

 

Despite the previous interest shown to their changing surroundings, the child could not defeat the battle against the gentle sway of Sephiroth’s gait and the sound of his heartbeat thumping steadily into the babe’s ear.

 

Even now as Sephiroth takes in the sleeping face, so soft in its peace and cast in a gentle orange glow from the fire, something warm blooms between Sephiroth’s ribs and he nearly misses that the pot’s water is boiling with how long he stares. 

 

Refocusing on the important task at hand, Sephiroth quickly plucks the green stems from the strawberries and dumps them into the pot to be boiled. Boiling the berries is both a further precaution against germs and to soften the fruits further since Claude lacks the teeth to chew properly, his gums will only be able to squish things rather than tear things apart. Ensuring there are minimal chances for choking is Sephiroth’s priority.

 

It doesn’t take the strawberries very long to boil to the consistency he seeks, aided by the pot’s spoon mashing up the berries further so it is more of a… strawberry stew? Sephiroth tilts his head slightly but decides it isn’t necessary to give a proper title to the mush.

 

Now that the food is prepared, an unfortunate hurdle presents itself.

 

Sephiroth has to wake Claude to eat.

 

A sharp barb of refusal imbeds itself in Sephiroth’s gut deeper and deeper as the man glances nervously between the sleeping baby’s peaceful face in the fire’s soft glow and the makeshift meal he has prepared.

 

Instead of waking Claude just yet, his hands instead begin to remove his many accessories and even his leather coat, though when Sephiroth’s fingers pinch the end of one of his leather gloves he briefly wonders if it’s truly necessary…

 

A glance towards the prepared meal, the child still strapped to his chest, and then to his leathers, he comes to a reluctant decision. Peeling off the leather gloves and setting them safely aside with the rest of his clothes, hopefully out of the messy baby range. Babies being very messy and uncoordinated with their attempts to eat was a frequent warning when he had researched their options for Claude’s temporary meals.

 

Sephiroth doubts strawberries would do his leather any good either. He will only keep his pants and boots on so that should there be any attack, he’d at least be able to fight while not completely nude.

 

The sensation of the soft but resilient baby blanket against his bare fingers without the barrier of his gloves has Sephiroth briefly mesmerized by the texture. The red stitches that spelt the child’s name had certainly been done by hand but he’s uncertain if the blanket is handmade or manufactured… The blue fabric seems to have a faint shimmer to its fibres.

 

Did I ever have a baby blanket? Sephiroth ponders. He strongly believes that he had a blanket when he was a baby, at least blankets for within his crib perhaps, but he doubts he ever had a blanket of sentimental value such as the one Claude had mysteriously appeared in.

 

Although… it wouldn’t surprise him if there was one at one time and Professor Hojo tossed it away when the time came that Sephiroth outgrew it. The Professor had been very strict about any possible distractions that could arise from material possessions.

 

Ah, but he shouldn’t delay any longer on pointless musings when Claude’s stomach continues to remain empty.

 

Gently he rubs his finger against the babe’s cheek, the child’s brows scrunching up slightly but remains undisturbed otherwise even as he murmurs, “Claude, you must wake up now, it’s time to eat.”

 

“Mnn.” Claude turns their head away from the disruptive touch and attempts to continue their sleep, but Sephiroth will not allow the baby to escape a step essential to its survival.

 

It would make the most sense to undress the child as well, to spare them from soiling the only clothing the child possessed at the moment. Perhaps the movement and change in temperature will assist in waking them as well, Sephiroth hopes.

 

With how wiggly Claude is naturally, he’d thought that taking the clothing off the baby would be simple.

 

No. Instead there is another unexpected hurdle to overcome.

 

Claude only seems to wiggle more as Sephiroth’s fingers brush along the sides of the baby’s incredibly tiny torso. Soft giggles reaching the air despite the infant’s unconsciousness. It only grows in volume as he continues until it’s the same laughter as when he attempted to properly swaddle the baby in his tent. The giggles ring through the air as Sephiroth’s fingertips feather along the child’s smooth skin to remove the onesie from now kicking and jerking legs recently released from the blanket’s confines.

 

Sometimes those kicks connect with Sephiroth’s own flesh, earning a furrowed brow at its continually baffling force. The lingering aches have him wondering if there will be any bruising or if it will be another case of his healing factor correcting any unfortunate damage to Shinra’s multi-million dollar weapon by the time he checks it next.

 

In the brief time of his distraction, Claude having awoken had begun imitating some sort of flailing octopus or squid perhaps and has now wiggled themself free with only their diaper to remain.

 

A sense of dread settles into Sephiroth’s stomach as he realizes the smell coming from said diaper… the less he recounts the following panic and actions, the better.

 

Angeal would most likely have a heart attack if he were ever to learn of it and never trust Sephiroth near Claude again.

 

Both the man and the baby are far more awake and far more harried than before as they return to the small fire and pot, particles of magic drifting through the air and fading behind them. Though Claude keeps sending him looks that seem an odd mix of both peeved and perhaps concerned towards his floundering new caretaker.

 

Genesis would be proud of the amount of embarrassment Sephiroth drowns in from the child’s expression of scrunched brows, an angled frown with mouth parted in astoundment, and unending skeptical side eyes, and would likely crown Claude for his achievement.

 

At the very least, the strawberry mush has certainly cooled and is safer for a baby’s consumption than the boiling state it had been in previously by the time they are finished rectifying the momentary disaster.

 

All he will allow himself to acknowledge from the preceding events is the discovery that Claude is, in fact, a he. Relying on names to indicate a person’s sex is terribly unreliable no matter how confident one thinks themselves to be. A younger Sephiroth had quickly affirmed as much through observation of the scientists within the labs and their name tags alongside overhearing conversations between them about such matters.

 

Well, now that that is handled, back to the attempt at getting Claude to eat his strawberry… something.

 

”Will you forgive me for my transgressions with this peace offering?” He asks the boy atop his lap as he brings forth the bowl of strawberry mush and scoops a small amount onto the spoon. Claude watches the bowl with enough curiosity to distract him from any slights, “Ae?”

 

Sephiroth brings the bowl out of the child’s reach as the hands grab for it, though he hopes that means the baby is plenty interested in the food, “I’ll hold it. Your motor functions are less suited to the task.”

 

This does nothing. As soon as the bowl is back in front of them, Claude lunges forward and grabs the bowl hard enough Sephiroth would have to pry the small hands off to free it. And of course that’s when Claude completely ignores the spoon hovering before him and shoves a hand directly into the strawberry mush. With a soft sigh of defeat Sephiroth simply instructs, “In your mouth Claude, in it.”

 

Strawberry pieces clutched in hand, the juice running down what could be mistaken as a bloody fist, begins to coat Claude’s arm in sweet red. Sephiroth watches with rapt attention as Claude does in fact bring it to his mouth, the tiny fist disappearing inside-

 

Claude jolts at the taste and the expression that follows is highly likely one of disgust, his fist snapping free of his mouth and he stares at it with as much silent accusation as he did Sephiroth moments ago.

 

“Bah bah bah.” The baby babbles.

 

The saliva and strawberry slathered hand then slaps against Sephiroth’s stomach with a wet splat.

 

He stares at the slobbery red hand print left on his bare skin and sighs much more heavily. This must be what they meant about the babies being messy. Just treat it like any other mission, he reminds himself… He supposes he prefers strawberries to mud and blood.

 

“Here Claude…” Another attempt to use the spoon fails, Claude showing no care towards the utensil when his hands can grab plenty of strawberry to transfer it into his mouth.

 

Each time, the baby makes the same disgusted face before teething at the mush, smacking his lips, and then swallowing.

 

And yet, each time Claude grabs more from the bowl.

 

Sephiroth takes in the messy hands, juice dripping from Claude’s elbows onto his leather pants and Claude’s own lap, and then the neglected spoon into consideration.

 

Curiosity gets the better of Sephiroth and he brings the spoon to his own mouth and makes a face himself at the initial burst of the near sour sweetness, it’s not as though he had sugar on hand for his nighttime culinary experiment. It’s still edible and not terrible, especially compared to Shinra’s rations. Fruits are also rather difficult to mess up when the only step is to boil them.

 

“Aaaah- mmm-maah.” Sephiroth glances down at Claude who hums around his mouthful of strawberry fingers but his eyes are watching Sephiroth with rapt attention, jumping from his mouth to the spoon in his hand.

 

Oh. Babies do not feed themselves. And if Claude has been breastfed or even bottlefed until now… perhaps he doesn’t know what a spoon even is.

 

The man feels a bit foolish for forgetting such a thing, as well as that babies mimic what they observe around them to learn… 

 

So filling the spoon with another dip into the bowl, Sephiroth watches as Claude tracks the spoon the entire time, and the baby grabs a new fistful of strawberry to mostly drop on his belly. Then Claude’s head tilts up again to watch as Sephiroth puts the spoon into his mouth and eats the strawberry. A few blinks and then Claude shoves his own strawberries into his mouth.

 

“Good boy.” Sephiroth rubs Claude’s back with the hand that is keeping the child steady while he praises him. The boy simply dives into the bowl again with more baby babble.

 

But when Sephiroth brings the spoon towards the bowl, Claude clumsily grabs for it and so Sephiroth relinquishes his hold from the spoon as Claude scoops up strawberry-

 

And it immediately plops back into the bowl.

 

Claude still brings the spoon to his mouth anyway, despite having lost its cargo and humming as he tastes the strawberry juice that remains.

 

How inefficient, he thinks, while the sight warms his stomach at the same time.

 

Sephiroth nearly drops the bowl with the force Claude uses to shove the spoon back in with, both of them earning a splatter of red speckles from the spray. The man keeps his eyes shut as Claude squeals in delight at the carnage, but inwardly Sephiroth cringes at the juice and fruit pieces no doubt clinging to his hair now.

 

Maybe it wasn’t overkill to make as much as he did if most of it was going to end up on them rather than in Claude’s stomach.

 

“Some of this is meant to go in a jar for your breakfast tomorrow, you know. Don’t be wasteful.”

 

A red doused hand makes yet another stark handprint against Sephiroth’s pale abdomen, followed by giggles that sounded anything but innocent. The gummy smile that overtakes Claude’s face as he smears more strawberry across Sephiroth’s body makes any protests he may have remain unspoken.

 

“Aaeee heh gehhhhg.” The little boy gurgles. Sephiroth has no idea what it might mean but the smile remains at the very least, so it’s probably good.

 

Instead he simply watches, trying to find what is so fascinating and hilarious about smearing fruit on him. The jabbing fingers and hands aren’t exactly pleasant nor is the fruit's stickiness yet he can’t bring himself to end the child’s entertainment either.

 

Ah, that’s it, Claude is playing.

 

“Are you having fun? I believe this can be considered finger painting, though your materials of choice are… unique.” Not that he has any true experience with art himself. Genesis has certainly made plenty of comments about his lack of knowledge and appreciation towards the arts.

 

“Eh beh beh meh deh…”

 

“Is that so?” It feels a bit silly to talk to the baby who doesn’t know how to speak properly, even when advised by those searches, but it is… a bit relaxing. He does not have to worry about missing social cues or a lack of common knowledge others ordinarily possess or even know what his conversation partner is saying. Claude is a baby, they do not know things, and that is acceptable. 

 

Sephiroth wonders briefly why it becomes more and more shameful as a person ages to not know things. There is too much knowledge in the world to be contained within one sole person, no one will know everything. Even Hojo.

 

“Will you hold it against me if I don’t know… how to be normal?” His fingers try to keep Claude’s hair out of his face by tucking it behind his ears but it proves pointless as the tufts either bounce back into the feathery sections or are too short to remain tucked in the first place. “I won’t be able to teach you how to be normal as it has been made clear I am very… abnormal.”

 

Claude, having found some artistic vision, paints the canvas of the man’s body with strawberry instead of eating it or paying Sephiroth's confession any mind. His lap and chest give him the appearance of one recently mauled by a bear, whereas Claude may as well have been caught in the explosion of a strawberry filled bomb. Which considering what occurred is not too far off from the truth.

 

Retrieving the forgotten spoon in the bowl, he brings another few bites to Claude’s mouth, “More?”

 

The child does some odd tapping with his fingers but perhaps the sticky sensation is drawing Claude’s attention now.

 

With dramatic bites, the baby eats it, that same face of disgust as his first attempt to eat the mush following. Sephiroth would have figured that Claude would be used to the taste by now. Ah but that is unimportant, the painting is yet to be complete, so twisting around, with one hand Claude smears a thorough arc of red across Sephiroth’s chest while in the other, ruby drops roll between the clenched fingers and down a chubby arm until it reaches his mouth. 

 

Another face. 

 

Yet he does it again. And again. One hand painting, the other for eating. Occasionally making a face.

 

It’s slightly fascinating. Sephiroth recalls the moments he had first encountered foods outside of the lab’s… nutrition focused… things. Some had been life changing with the first bite, others entirely unpleasant, and then there was… what Claude seems to be doing.

 

It’s nice to not be the only one who finds some foods odd, even when it’s something as common as a strawberry.

 

Rubbing the child’s back in what he hopes is… encouragement, Sephiroth hums, “I wonder when you’ll be able to eat pasta… hopefully soon. It’s very good, I think you’ll like it as I do.”

 

There’s no chance for a response as they finally reach the point where Claude doesn’t want more. The refusal comes as a sharp snap of his head away from the spoon and a smack from his hand to get it away from his face. Sephiroth nearly loses hold of the spoon entirely with the strength that continues to surprise him, as well as the both slippery and sticky juices that coats his fingers. 

 

“Full?” 

 

Claude looks up at his face, instead of continuing his work of art, and Sephiroth watches the baby raise his hands and flick them in a sloppy attempt at… something? Is that the same motion Genesis does when he ‘shoos’ people and things away? How would a baby know how to shoo things already?

 

“Is that a… yes? You are finished eating Claude?”

 

“Mm eeeiiii ngh.” Another hand flick when he catches sight of the spoon still hovering in sight, except this time it clicks.

 

Sephiroth blinks in surprise at the use of Common Sign Language, but if the baby knows how to say ‘Finished’ then he would trust the child’s judgement on the matter.

 

Setting the spoon and bowl aside, he takes in their messy- well- everything and takes a moment to contemplate their next course of action.

 

“I believe I have to burp you now that you’ve eaten. Then we will clean ourselves.”

 

Claude doesn’t seem to be paying attention, simply pressing his hands against Sephiroth’s skin here and there while babbling. When Sephiroth carefully takes hold of the child and lifts, Claude’s legs start to kick and another smile takes hold, “Eeeehhhh!” 

 

Sephiroth freezes as Claude’s hands grab for him, and in his moment of hesitation the baby’s tiny hands cradle his face, both pairs of slit pupils fattening as they stare at each other.

 

“Mmm mehh meh mn nnah.” Claude tells him as he wiggles excitedly, fingers pinching Sephiroth’s cheeks painfully enough he nearly winces.

 

“Please do not vomit on my hair.” Is all Sephiroth requests before placing the child against his chest but a bit over one shoulder. With one hand he sweeps his hair over his vacant shoulder, Claude grabbing for the hairs sliding out of reach, then he begins gently patting Claude’s back. 

 

Sephiroth can only hope he’s doing it right. Claude certainly wouldn’t be able to tell him. It is a bit of a relief that he can see about teaching the child some other common signs at least if there is already some previous knowledge established.

 

Should he be worried that the baby knowing sign language could be a way for a spy to communicate to their handler? 

 

There is an itch in his mind and gut that many ordinary people, had Sephiroth had anyone to speak to about such a thought, would most likely say that Claude, the undetermined amount of months old baby, is not in fact a possible spy.

 

A wet burp cuts through the quiet night air, and the smell of stomach acid has Sephiroth closing his eyes in resignation as he feels the warm spit up on his shoulder and rolling down his back.

 

His hair not becoming a victim is all he can focus on to remain positive, it would have been a nightmare to try to wash out in a river of all places…

 

That only makes it minimally better to have a baby spit up on him; he inwardly laments as he feels the warm fluid glide down his back. The smell alone is a challenge, though it’s not as bad as others he’s come across, it remains unpleasant enough that his nose scrunches up in displeasure.

 

“…I’m beginning to wonder if you are part malboro.”

 

“Aee.”

 

Sephiroth decides to take that as confirmation enough.

 

…

 

With all the messy activities done away with, Sephiroth grabs the few bathing items, and the bangle with a fire materia to keep the chill away for them, that he had brought with him and walks them towards the river’s edge. Claude is once more showing signs of fighting against sleep now that he has a full stomach, but Sephiroth hopes the baby won’t send him those looks should this wake him up a bit.

 

He doesn’t think he can survive a cranky baby so soon.

 

“Beh beh beh beh beh- baaaaaah.” Seems to be the sounds Claude entertains himself with as Sephiroth’s feet quietly slosh through the running water until he is in deep enough the cold water licks at his knees. The leather of his pants is no doubt angry at him for its treatment tonight. Though he left Claude’s clean cloth diaper where it’d remain dry so the cleaning could be thorough as he’s unaware of when the last time the child would have been cleaned.

 

“It’s bath time now.” He announces, uncertain if the baby would recognize the word.

 

Claude watches the river sweep by with interest and continues to do so as Sephiroth carefully lowers him towards the water. Only, once they have neared the surface, Claude decides to snap his legs up to his body and whine at the water.

 

Sephiroth pauses, eyes jumping from the babe to the river’s flow, and can’t help wondering if he should continue or not…

 

But it’s more efficient to simply wash Claude all at once. Efficiency is why he is sprayed down with hoses after his mako treatments in the labs, even when it hurts and is bitingly cold.

 

It’s faster and doesn’t waste precious time.

 

Taking a moment to strategize, Sephiroth decides to lower Claude so that the babe’s face is skyward to keep it out of the water and his nose directed with the flow of the water so it will sweep over, not directly into, the tiny nostrils should the child need to be dunked.

 

“Aeehh.” Claude protests and begins to wiggle like a worm in Sephiroth’s hands, his little head tossing back and forth along Sephiroth’s pillowing palm while the kicking legs nearly dislodge him from his left hand’s hold under his hips.

 

Then Sephiroth adjusts his grip, laying Claude in the cradle of his right arm, to start gently rubbing a soapy cloth to clear the red juice from the child’s face. 

 

“Baaaah, beeeeeee, mmnph.” Whatever babble Claude had started halts into another scowl and grumbling huff as the cloth dares to touch his face. Claude’s wiggling only intensifies as he cleans, hands trying to bat away his efforts with a scrunched up face that reminds Sephiroth of the diaper disaster, so he informs the baby, “Please stop moving, Claude, you must cooperate. It is difficult to-”

 

Claude heaves himself into a full body toss. 

 

And just like that, the baby is no longer in his hold. 

 

The lack of weight in his hands may as well have seared itself onto his skin. 

 

Thorns heavy as stone coil in his throat as the last thing he sees is a tiny hand sinking below the river's surface.

 

One blink and all signs of the child have vanished.

 

He needs a plan- grab the baby- but the river’s flow- ten seconds-

 

Distantly he hears a chime from the labs. Hojo’s command follows as always.

 

“Water rescue, boy. Get to it.”

 

Instinctively, his body reacts to the phantom sounds echoing off of the sterile walls of his mind. 

 

Sephiroth dives into the water and forces his eyes open. His arms and legs propel him forward. 

 

No delay can be made. 

 

Here and there are the flash of fish, their scales shimmering even under the moonlight with Sephiroth’s enhanced vision. 

 

Until his hair blocks his sight again and he snaps his head to clear his view.

 

As he fights back his floating hair, there is a sharp panicked desire to tear it all from his scalp. Just as he reaches up-

 

A body that doesn’t shimmer.

 

Three seconds. An automated voice reminds him.

 

Sephiroth lunges through the water, startling all aquatic life away. His fingers snap like a trap around the creature. Stones press against his feet as he finds the bottom of the river and he stands up. A sputtering cough filled wail pierces the night by the time his head breaches the surface alongside the child held above his head.

 

The sound may as well have forged a blade with his error to pierce his heart with how it twists in pain.

 

Despite knowing his capabilities in underwater training, Sephiroth gasps for breath all the same, the heat from his eyes burning them beyond just the sting of the river water he tries to blink away.

 

“Foolish boy! What results did you expect with such idiocy!?” Comes the Professor’s phantom criticisms.

 

His chest grows tighter and tighter by the second as though a hand were squeezing and pinching inside of him, twisting organs together to see if they’d untangle on their own or not. 

 

He had hated that test.

 

They had ended up in the deepest parts of the river, he notes. The water is now up to Sephiroth’s chin as he stands on the tip of his toes, holding the flailing baby above his head under Claude’s armpits to ensure he no longer touches the water at all.

 

Claude continues to cough between his screams as Sephiroth wades them to a part of the river where he can stand flat on his feet again.

 

Only when the water reaches just beneath his ribs does he finally allow himself to pause and lower Claude into a hug despite the continuous fight of limbs and wiggling. For whose comfort does he do it? He’s not sure.

 

“Pathetic.”

 

Sephiroth’s hands hold the babe close to him, laying them chest to chest while the child’s head rests against his shoulder, just as he learned for burping. His fingers curl around Claude more firmly than he’d have dared before, fear warring with the idea of Sephiroth not holding tight enough but also the fear of holding too tight. 

 

His heart stutters with adrenaline and a dizziness clouds Sephiroth’s useless mind. Chills wrack through his body despite the fire materia still functioning as it should, threatening to send his teeth chattering. 

 

The sound of sloshing follows him as his shaking body starts their return to the slower shallows, rather than remain so deep. Through the trembling strides, he can only blankly stare at the traitorous waters that nearly stole the child he is holding away.

 

Killing children even without an order from Shinra now are you? A phantom of what may have been Glenn’s voice criticizes, or maybe it's Angeal’s disappointed tone with that underlying anger when faced with dishonour. Perhaps it was both.

 

The unceasing crying, though painful to his ears, is far better than the water induced silence.

 

His legs fail him before they’re fully out. Sephiroth’s crashing weight creates angry waves around them until it once more settles to reveal the water hardly even reaches the tops of his outstretched legs where he now sits. 

 

The young man folds himself around the baby in his arms in a terrible makeshift cocoon with his heavy drenched hair unintentionally blocking the babe’s view of the river. But despite the continued wails, the clear fearful thumping against his chest that's too weak to be his own racing heart, Sephiroth can’t quite seem to get enough air in his own lungs, despite not being the one who nearly drowned-

 

What air he had drawn in from short little gasps, it does not reach his lungs as it turns into a hitch, his lip foolishly begins to tremble and his vision blurs.

 

How pathetic. He isn’t sure if that’s his own voice or the Professor’s. The words are deserved either way.

 

Claude continues to cry against his shoulder, his face red from the strain, unceasing tears only distinguishable with the heat that sears into his skin rather than the river’s chill. Small fingers dig painfully into his bare flesh while flailing legs try to escape either the man’s hold or the river itself with occasional headbutts to his shoulder or chin. But enduring the pain is the least he can withstand for such a horrendous failure.

 

“I-I’m sorry…” He whispers desperately, there isn’t enough air left in him to speak louder, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Sephiroth repeats over and over into the child’s ear, despite knowing Claude probably won’t hear it over the little boy’s terror.

 

There they remain together, undressed and soaked, trying to survive the raging fear that threatens to drown them both like the river had threatened to do to Claude just now.

 

…

 

Eventually the crying settles into soft little hiccups with each inhale hitching with the threat of another sob that doesn’t follow. Sephiroth removes the evidence of his own traitorous tears from his face when his mind reminds him they cannot remain at the river all night.

 

The baby could become sick if they remain in the water at night like this for too long even with a fire materia at hand.

 

He also has to get them back to the camp and hopefully still have time to sleep at some point, though Sephiroth can certainly go without sleep longer than Claude. He hopes the baby will sleep through the day for now to keep suspicions at bay until he can make a better plan for… whatever it is he’s going to do.

 

Thing is, Claude still needs to be bathed.

 

With a deep breath, Sephiroth stands up to retrieve a new rag as the original was no doubt swept away by the river in his rescue of Claude. Meanwhile, he discovers the bar of soap managed to survive with a toss to dry land he doesn’t remember throwing it to but he picks it up with subdued relief anyway.

 

There is no fuss from Claude as he moves around. The baby is undoubtedly exhausted from all that crying, which means Sephiroth should keep an eye on whether or not he becomes dehydrated along with signs the fall into the water may become a bigger issue.

 

Now the true issue at hand.

 

Whether or not Claude will refuse to return into the water for the much needed bath.

 

This time Sephiroth refuses to go further than the shallows for Claude’s washing. The young man sits himself down before curling his legs into a makeshift fence to prevent the baby from being swept away while keeping his hands mostly free.

 

When the drowsy babe is lifted away from Sephiroth’s shoulder, he gets to take in the sight of the tear stained, snot trailing, red eyed (not from their natural colour), flushed face of Claude. A shaky sniffle draws the whole heart aching ensemble together as the sleepy eyes droop under the weight of the day’s events. Or rather the night’s events.

 

Another urge to hug the child close nearly overtakes him but Sephiroth remains strong and lowers Claude back into the water between the makeshift baby fence. 

 

“Mmh, mmmn, nnn.” Claude sleepily whines as he weakly struggles to get away from the water touching him as he is sat in front of Sephiroth. 

 

The exhaustion keeps the upset subdued so Sephiroth determines he shall not have the baby in longer than absolutely necessary. He will clean Claude so fast he won’t realize they’re even in the water.

 

Quickly lathering the wet rag, he balances the bar of soap onto one of his legs as he starts cleaning away all signs of strawberries from Claude’s body.

 

In the midst of the whimpering and futile struggles from both the water itself and the cleaning cloth, Claude’s chubby arm swipes through the air and knocks over the bar of soap, causing quite a splash with a plunk sound. 

 

The baby startles awake, flailing but thankfully this method of washing proves effective as it keeps Claude from tumbling under the water again and simply tumbles against his leg instead. Though he does look a bit ridiculous in such a position, much like an odd sleeping position he caught Genesis in once with his mountain of pillows.

 

Wide red eyes snap to Sephiroth’s face, who has frozen as to not instigate any further fear or startling actions, which leaves the man and baby staring at each other again.

 

Until Sephiroth finally asks, ”Are you alright?” That is.

 

Claude blinks, pushes himself back upright rather than half sprawled across Sephiroth’s leg, then stares at the bar of soap still sitting under the water. When no tears or screams follow, Sephiroth plucks the bar of soap with his fingers and places it back atop his leg, near his hip where it's less likely to slip now that it's fully wet.

 

Only before he can even continue washing him, Claude has batted the bar of soap back into the water with another plopping splash.

 

“Hmmmnn.” Is the considering hum that Claude provides before picking up the bar of soap and dropping it, again.

 

“This is the strawberries all over again, isn’t it…” The exhaustion now creeping up on Sephiroth himself is evident in his tone as he stares blankly at the baby.

 

Which he supposes isn’t a bad thing. A distraction to focus on during lab visits surely made it easier, at least for Sephiroth. A distraction for Claude as he bathes is certainly more likely to be an ally than an enemy right now.

 

So Sephiroth continues carefully wiping Claude down. Then he wipes himself down thoroughly and efficiently before tackling the issue of their hair.

 

“Daaa heee py!” Claude regales as the soap is jerked left and right, up and down, and makes a vaguely star-shaped pattern- if it weren’t piloted by an infant perhaps.

 

The bar of soap has become a bath time toy, baby babble following some unknown story as Claude dips and drops the bar into the water before lifting it high up into the air and crashing it back down with a big splash.

 

Only after Sephiroth briefly swaps the bar of soap with a river rock to get to washing their hair does he find another error in his judgement as Claude then shoves the rock into his mouth.

 

Now it's Sephiroth’s turn to drop the soap, frantically trying to tug the rock in Claude’s mouth free without injury, “No, no, Claude, that’s not for eating.”

 

Claude disagrees.

 

It takes five minutes to finally do away with the rock.

 

Except next thing he knows, the baby is trying to eat a handful of small pebbles he has managed to snatch within his tiny fist.

 

“Claude, please-”

 

“Baeh beh baauuhhh huaaa-” The tiny hand makes a swift jerk towards the babbling mouth and that's how Sephiroth is faced with yet another challenge.

 

More rocks. The bar of soap gets a good chomp. Rocks again. All fought back until Claude’s frustration truly takes hold and he smacks the water with an angry “Eeeeh!”

 

The resulting splash douses them both thoroughly. Claude pauses. He smacks the water with his hands again. Sprays them both with the airborne water droplets once again.

 

Then truly diabolical giggles erupt, “Aehehehehe!”

 

Babies are rather terrifyingly resilient and fragile all at once, Sephiroth concludes as he swipes water from his eyes.

 

Now that Claude has a distraction via the once terrifying water and splashing, Sephiroth’s task in washing their hair becomes much easier and much more difficult at the same time.

 

Sephiroth decides to not dip Claude down in the water to rinse his hair off, lest it ruin the baby’s cheer by reminding him of the earlier scare. Instead, Sephiroth scoops some water into one hand and uses the other to keep it from running down onto Claude’s face- well as much as Sephiroth can with Claude constantly smacking the water as if he were trying to imitate Leviathan and be just as wiggly.

 

The distraction becomes less effective during the time Sephiroth is running his own soapy hands through his hair to hopefully rid it of any strawberry stains- though it’s not too big of a deal if not since well… it is a war and its red.

 

As Sephiroth is rubbing his hair together carefully to properly wash it yet try to avoid any knots, Claude’s attention suddenly snaps up towards him- nearly becoming an owl with how quick his head snaps back towards Sephiroth to see what he’s doing.

 

The young man freezes under the intense scrutiny of an infant of an unknown amount of months- who looks at Sephiroth’s face, looks at his fingers in his hair, then decides he must help.

 

Pinching fingers dig into Sephiroth’s skin once more as grip holds, hissing winces following a few of them, to haul Claude up onto his feet to reach the soapy tips of Sephiroth’s hair, “Paaa-eeee uurgh.” 

 

Then a small hand smacks at Sephiroth’s hair, Claude patting along the hair but also periodically looking up at Sephiroth’s face as though searching for… something?

 

Taking a moment to consider the actions… 

 

“It’s your turn to help me wash my hair? Is that it?” He inquires softly. Then Sephiroth wraps an arm around Claude’s waist, while the other brings a section of hair to Claude’s hands and gently pushes the hands together then pushes them down in a- well- somewhat washing motion at least.

 

“Bah ah miii deee~.” Claude sings, at least it sounds more like singing than usual with its higher pitch, though Sephiroth wasn’t told what ages a child could be capable of singing by his research earlier.

 

When Claude deems Sephiroth’s hair ‘clean’ enough, he holds onto Sephiroth’s arm for balance before dipping down to the water, grabbing a fistful, then emptying the fist over Sephiroth’s hair.

 

Only a few drops make the trip.

 

But Claude is determined and keeps doing it while Sephiroth can’t help watching with a smile at the ineffective method of choice. Though he is aware of their time constraints, as well as how Sephiroth has been scolded plenty before for inefficiency, he can’t bring himself to correct Claude’s imperfect attempt.

 

Of course there is more babble to accompany the task, more repetition of the earlier sounds, which only makes his suspicions towards a song being involved grow, “Bah ah miii deee.” But it's followed by a new verse, “Daaaah ooee dee!”

 

“May I help?” He asks while scooping a handful of water in his free hand and watching the suds slip free of his silver strands. It’s not nearly as effective as dipping his head into the water but Claude does a squeal, short and shrill, before stomping happily at the progress.

 

Excited enhanced baby stomps in water are quite effective for dousing them thoroughly in water.

 

“Heeeee!” Claude squeals again, until erupting in more giggles that creates feathery bubbles within Sephiroth’s chest to hear, neither of their lips able to fall from their smiles.

 

“May I rinse it all out now or are you still in charge of this mission?” Sephiroth teases, though the baby is unlikely to understand that.

 

So when Claude looks between Sephiroth’s hair, the water, then tries to tug the hair down to the water, he simply does as he’s silently told and lays down enough for Claude to continue his mission in washing Sephiroth’s hair.

 

Of course as soon as he’s down, Claude falls onto his butt in the water and the small wave washes right over Sephiroth’s face and most of his hair that has yet to touch the water.

 

The baby laughs at whatever expression has squeezed and pinched his face.

 

With a silent sigh through his nose, Sephiroth remains still as he is thoroughly doused by Claude’s enthusiastic splashing and head pats that may have some water droplets involved.

 

After plenty of powerful waves and sprays, Sephiroth has earned himself a mouthful of water, so he spits it out much like a fountain spout.

 

That earns a halt to his baby hair washer’s task and instead chubby fingers start jabbing into his mouth curiously, “Eeeh!?” 

 

What high quality customer service, Sephiroth dryly muses as Claude discovers his teeth, perhaps in revenge for his own earlier prodding.

 

“Aaaaaiii-nnn!” The baby demands of the ‘Demon of Wutai’ though he only makes sense of the demand when the hand smacks at Sephiroth’s mouth.

 

“That is not a polite way to ask for things, Claude. But as I have… performed poorly today, I will refrain from correcting the behaviour caused by-” More smacks with a ‘aaaah’ sound accompanying them, “-your excitement…”

 

Red eyes track him intently as he turns his head, dips the corner of his mouth into the river water, then returns his head straight up to become a human water spout.

 

“Eeee-hehehehe,” Claude approves, clapping his hands at the sight even. The demand for more is another smack of a palm but to Sephiroth’s chest this time. Which he supposes is better than his face at least.

 

“If this is capable of impressing you, I’m nervous for how you will react to materia’s true capabilities.” A shiver runs down his spine at the thought of a baby obsessed with materia much like Genesis.

 

They do not need more than one pyromaniac.

 

As he becomes a spout once more, he watches Claude’s round eyes staring in awe of the water and wave a hand through it- that must be unsanitary as it was just in his mouth- and he wonders if he could at least get Claude’s interest directed towards a water or ice materia.

 

That way he’d at least have an on hand fire extinguisher for Genesis’ stray fireballs.

 

The outrageous mental image of an angry Genesis’ reaction to a baby casting a materia to cancel out his fire has Sephiroth nearly choking with how the laughter flies out of the cage of his teeth. And apparently Sephiroth’s laughter must sound funny as Claude bursts into a fit of giggles himself.

 

Rosy cheeks, flushed from joy rather than fear, and the gummy smile that reaches the sparkling strawberry sweet eyes has Sephiroth enchanted by the sight of Claude so happy.

 

That’s how he should always look. And as soon as he thinks the words, Sephiroth agrees wholeheartedly.

 

The warmth and peace that washes through him at that moment has the words spilling out before he can prevent them, “Is this fun?” Sephiroth asks the baby. Although, a piece of himself seems to thrum with a silent answer of its own.

 

Claude evidently does not answer. 

 

Not in any intelligible way at the very least. No Claude just stares at Sephiroth’s own smiling face before leaning forward to lay his head against the man’s chest, “Nnn. Mmn.”

 

A yawn overtakes the baby, Claude burying his face against Sephiroth’s warmth as his eyes become half lidded under the weight of sleep’s swift demand.

 

A thorn of disappointment at the thought of returning to his tent digs into his heart with a surprising amount of strength. But he still announces, “It’s time to go back.”

 

He hesitates only a moment before sitting up, ringing out the water from his hair, carefully drying it with materia, then gently scooping up his new companion. Claude shifts slightly in his hold but doesn't make much of a fuss apart from looking around to where they were going. 

 

Apparently returning to their items is boring so the baby plops his head back against Sephiroth’s shoulder with disinterest. A rather hefty ‘haah’ of a sigh follows, as though lying down was such an arduous task. It doesn’t take long for mild irritation to overtake Claude when he is once more confined to clothing. Although, once he is wrapped within his blanket and set within the makeshift carrier, it’s near instantaneous that sleep wins, Claude loses.

 

“Good baby.” He murmurs into the soft freshly cleaned tufts of hair atop the baby’s head. He doesn’t dare to call the brush of his lips against Claude’s head a kiss even in his own mind.

 

…

 

The trip back to the camp is much the same as leaving it.

 

Maybe he should be concerned about how easy it is for him to infiltrate Shinra’s encampment unseen and undetected but he is a standard not easily met. The Professor made sure of that.

 

Only once he and Claude have made it to his cot, does he allow himself to finally relax. Though he does throw up another silencing spell on the tent before he forgets. Then he takes off all unnecessary items, the pack, the makeshift carrier, other belts- and those that will be uncomfortable for him or Claude to sleep with and finally collapses (very carefully and mindfully as there is a baby) onto his cot.

 

Sephiroth lays Claude down and gently pats the blanket bound bundle next to him then shifts into a comfortable position himself. One where he can keep an eye on Claude a little longer until sleep truly claims him, though he will keep it light and not a deep liberation from consciousness, as it is still a war. And it’s a baby.

 

Both are equally unpredictable.

 

So there he rests, staring at the once bed thief and now bed sharer sleeping next to him. Not much has happened since he’s discovered Claude, truly, all he’s done is discover Claude, changed a diaper, fed the baby, then washed the baby, but he feels like the day was as eventful as missions he’s had that remain of note in his memory.

 

Tonight is also possibly the first time he has shared his bed with another. He can’t confidently claim that Claude is the first to (albeit involuntarily) trust him like this, he has far too many gaps in his memory through the years for him to know for certain.

 

Not even Angeal or Genesis have. Certainly they have had to sleep close to each other for proximity reasons in certain missions through the years but they never shared bedrolls, cots, bunks, beds…

 

Sleep is when a person is most vulnerable.

 

The cot wasn’t exactly spacious to begin with despite its size being more accommodating to his own size but Claude is very small despite having to lie on his back.

 

Thankfully Sephiroth had asked the internet how he is to allow Claude to sleep properly. He doesn’t exactly trust his own judgement when Claude almost- he forces himself to go through some meditative breathing to keep the feeling swelling inside at bay.

 

Anyway, Sephiroth had no idea a simple sleeping position could pose such a difference in life expectancy of infants. It’s sleeping. It helps that now that they’ve returned to camp he can pose any questions through his PHS again, and then follow up questions to whatever answer he’s found.

 

Humans are ridiculous.

 

The more he learns about ordinary human development (as he is further reminded his own development was anything but) he can’t help wondering how humans even survive as a species.

 

He also makes sure to look at tips for bathing infants to prevent future mishaps such as at the river… Shame still tries to suffocate him through an invisible hand when he thinks about it, and a part of Sephiroth wishes it would continue to bring pain for his utter failure. Claude doesn’t deserve pain or punishment, but Sephiroth does.

 

Despite his enthusiasm for more vital information for his new found role, it’s not long before sleep calls upon him without any room for argument.

 

Sephiroth curls around Claude’s prone form, confident he will not move in his sleep due to past experience, to create a barrier so that if the baby somehow moves despite being swaddled, he will not fall off the cot.

 

Maybe once he’s bigger we can teach him how to wield a sword, Sephiroth wonders as he recalls the small hands now tucked snuggly in the blanket. With those enhancements and those eyes… 

 

Claude isn’t going to have an easy life, but maybe Sephiroth can help by providing him with lessons he’s learned, maybe even make it easier to learn than the Professor’s much more… difficult teaching strategy of toss-Sephiroth-at-the-thing-and-expect-perfection way of things.

 

It’s not an easy life to be like him in this world, but Sephiroth has managed and he can ensure Claude does it even better than him. They can even do things together! He certainly wants to introduce Claude to all his favourite foods once he’s able to eat solids. Candy will have to be a secret they share as Sephiroth’s own consumption of candies is technically mostly prohibited.

 

Claude hasn’t ridden a chocobo before, he hasn’t mastered any weapons, hasn’t killed his first monster, he hasn’t even spoken or written words yet, or found books that interest him like I enjoyed the books Gast once read to me about the planet and space…

 

There were so many possibilities! So much for Sephiroth to show Claude, to watch Claude experience, and to be the guide that Sephiroth wished he had had after Gast had abandoned him.

 

With each new idea bursting to life in his mind, the more Sephiroth’s smile grew, the more warmth began to fill a space he typically felt only a cold emptiness or a nothingness from.

 

This feeling won’t last when Shinra takes the baby away from you. Something always takes this feeling away from you… if you don’t do it yourself.

 

That warm bubbly feeling inside Sephiroth’s chest is swiftly hollowed out at such a reminder. He didn’t need his memory to replay each and every instance to further prove that voice’s point, his error with the river is plenty on its own.

 

But he remembers Professor Gast, he remembers Glenn, Lucia, and Matt, remembers his locket with a picture of his mother, Rosen- 

 

He’ll never forget Rhadore… 

 

There are plenty that follow after Rhadore, and even before he had arrived at the island that is no more.

 

Sephiroth remembers a little blue bird he had enjoyed watching fly outside a window of some… house, yes, a house as the labs don’t have windows, being slid across a metal table. Then Professor Hojo’s familiar clinical and hideously gleeful tone demanded he perform a dissection on the creature while listing each part and function when he was five years old. 

 

He’s not sure why he thinks of that blue bird when there are plenty of other… examples…

 

Yet he still recalls the feeling of its soft feathers- one of the softest things he’d ever touched at that point- how its heart had hammered beneath the flesh and ribs between his fingers, pecking at him fiercely until his blood stained its body as it tried to escape… 

 

And he remembers how the pop of bones felt when he snapped its neck then laid it flat against the operating table. When he had picked up the scalpel, the Professor had given him that smile that had always made Sephiroth feel proud to earn it and as though he were placing his own head between the jaws of a monster, hoping it wouldn't bite.

 

Sephiroth still doesn’t know how to feel.

 

The warring emotions throughout the dissection had not hindered his steady monotone recitation of the bird’s anatomy. He had known Professor Hojo hated stuttering and blubbering even then, and from that point on he knew any emotion must be instantly squashed lest it manifest and lead another creature to take the bird’s place under the scalpel, including himself.

 

Perhaps like the bird he would be ordered to snap Clau-

 

A sneeze snaps Sephiroth’s attention down to Claude. The baby’s face is scrunched up from the sneeze itself until it melts away back into that of peaceful sleep. Unknowingly entranced, he traces the bridge of the tiny nose with the tip of his finger. Fascination over the sheer… smallness of the baby overtakes him as the whole of that tiny nose is barely as long as the tip of his pinky to the first knuckle.

 

How is it even capable of breathing when it's that small?

 

His touch follows the lines of the baby’s face, the smooth near white brows, down a temple to circle a round cheek, then following the tiny jaw until it can circle the other cheek, back up the temple, across the brow, and then down the nose.

 

Claude doesn’t stir. In fact he doesn’t even twitch in his sleep under Sephiroth’s touch. It’s a bit ridiculous to feel some tension release, the fear of rejection lessening but a fraction, when the one in question is deeply asleep. But he does. Every moment there he doesn’t have to face rejection, difference, or fawning in some form is precious.

 

Perhaps… he won’t be hated by this child even when he does fail. Perhaps he won’t be left behind by Claude, at least for a while, after all babies need people for many years don’t they?

 

He can only hope.

Notes:

Woohoo! You made it to the end of another chapter!

Thanks for waiting and for reading!

As I mentioned before, update times will be unpredictable but I hope I can keep this stuff interesting enough for people to want to continue reading regardless.

See you next time (n.n)/“

Bonus commentary as a treat: Some of Claude’s dialogue has actual meaning behind it (mostly to keep myself entertained) but is hidden behind the forever mysterious language of babies and my notes heh.