MONSTERS (A Final Fantasy 7 Fanfic)

XII: What you Never Knew

The core of the planet was nurturing a God.

The silver abomination was a blight on Gaia, festering at its centre with little hope of its defeat. It was the fault of this cruel world for allowing him to exist, and now, he'd make sure it would deal with the consequences. Soon, his suffering would end, and he would become what he deserved to be.

Those racing to stop him would surely fail.

Threads of green twirled around him, feeding into his skin and giving him power. The meteor was coming to inflict the planet with a wound so great, that her only choice would be to heal herself with the lifestream. What of it that currently surrounded him was but a drop of water in the ocean's worth that would inevitably come, trying to heal Gaia– but only serving to nourish the blight, bringing forth his ascension.

Sephiroth looked down to his hands, fingertips glowing with the lifestream's essence. It was strange, how empty he still felt even after killing Hojo and Lucrecia. Perhaps his imminent Godhood would be the thing to make him feel better. Of course– he'd no longer be prone to such petty emotions. He'd be far above such things.

Only a few more hours to wait.

He pondered what a different life he would've lived, had Lucrecia been there to help him escape the labs. Even if he was an experiment, he at least would've been given freedom, no longer a pawn for Shinra.

Shinra... Zack. They'd only met because he was a pawn, a puppet, the face plastered on every poster in every city to advertise the joys of the Soldier programme to impressionable children. He'd been but a child himself, when he'd gone to war. And yet, even adults looked up to him for his strength and so-called 'heroism'. Not for a moment questioning why a company was so obsessively hell-bent on commodifying a mere child, sending them onto bloody battlefields for some illusion of glory. He was admired from afar, and feared from up-close.

Was there any creature more foolish than man itself?

He curled his hand into a fist. As close as Zack had gotten to him, even he was blind to Shinra's cruelty, as well as his own. Sephiroth knew, deep down, he'd never know despair as unbearable as what he'd felt in that terrible library, reading his own history.

But Zack, he'd been ignorant. Doctor Gast, the one man he'd trusted before Zack– he'd known everything . And still he left him to rot, for the simple fact that he was not a perfect little copy of the Cetra. What was there to say of Hojo and Lucrecia? One had tormented him his whole life, twisting him into their personal perfect specimen, and the other did nil to aid him once he'd been birthed. Apathy, cruelty, ignorance; what perfect traits for a trio of scientists to have.

Sephiroth was the perfect monster. Powerful, strange, and otherworldly. But, in his opinion, was man not the true monster?

He'd not chosen to be born a monster– what monster had? But so many humans were eager to become one, one far worse than he could ever be.

A warmth. He paused for a moment, ruminating on the sensation. It was familiar, very familiar. It was...

... Lucrecia.

He growled under his breath, a rumble of anger behind his growing smirk.

"Why are you here?"

He'd no need to ask how. The dissipation of the soul into the lifestream was rarely an instant one. It was unlikely she had the determination to remain the way he had, but it was still enough for her to force herself to avoid oblivion for the sake of... well, he did not know.

In many ways, he did not want to know.

"My son," her voice echoed around his ears, faint as a lost soul. "I've come for only one reason."

"Leave," Sephiroth hissed. "You'd be wise to, Lucrecia. The end is nigh for all– but that does not mean I cannot make things far worse for you."

"All this anger," Lucrecia said. "It is my fault. You grew up having a cold, lonesome life in which you never knew love."

"And you believe that matters to me?" he sneered. "My suffering only made me stronger. To love is to be weak. Now– leave."

His hand opened, dark energy twirling around his fingers. This conversation could be ended whenever he pleased, for he knew he had the means to destroy and absorb whatever remnants of Lucrecia's soul had come to torment him.

I should end this now.

And yet– for whatever reason, his arm remained frozen to his side.

"I've come to give you the unconditional love that you never knew. Love I withheld from you out of cowardice. I have no excuse."

Strings of green twisted together to form a pair of limbs attached to a humanoid body; a crude phantom of Lucrecia's form. They reached towards him, but froze at the sight of his twitching arm. A warning.

"Do not touch me."

"Monster. Human. Somewhere in between, somewhere beyond," Lucrecia whispered. "It matters not to me what you are Sephiroth, for you are still my son."

"I will destroy all that you are."

"Even if you hate me. Even if you destroy me, harm so many, set out to tear the world apart to satisfy your suffering– you are still my son."

Those strange arms reached out again– and, this time, Sephiroth made no move to resist as they wrapped around him.

Sephiroth was embraced, arms clinging tight to his form as a mother would hold her son. His emotions became a blur and he could barely keep up. Was it anger that was making his arms shake so? Rage that formed the burning sensation in his weary eyes? Why could he feel stinging tears threatening to leak?

He was completely frozen.

This is not me. I am stronger than this.

I must end her.

"Lucrecia," he growled threateningly, blinking quickly. His tears were meaningless, he needed to smite them, he needed to smite her. Within his hand formed the comforting feel of Masamune's presence as he summoned it. Dark energy flickered around the ever-obedient blade. It would take but one strike to tear this incessant soul apart.

"If you wish to destroy me," she whispered, voice cracking as if she was on the verge of weeping. "I will not resist. But, please..."

Her hold tightened, and the warmth grew ever warmer like gentle embers of a flame.

"Let us remain like this for a little while longer."

Sephiroth pressed his fingers against the Masamune's handle, feeling for its presence. The blade shone silver, black flames dancing around its form. It was right there, in his hand, ready to end this the moment he decided so.

But his arm felt heavy as if it was made of stone; his hold not as sure as it usually was. His eyes were an inferno, vision blurring the longer he remained in Lucrecia's embrace. And his heart was pained like it was going to tear itself apart. Unconditional love, the one thing that all yearned for, the one thing he'd been denied all his life– was it meant to be this strange? Was it meant to provoke one's most inner weakness, bringing forth for the whole world to see just how (((vulnerable))) he truly was, deep down?

Was it meant to be this painful?

He pressed his nails against the Masamune, through the thin fabrics of his glove. It was still there. Ready for whatever was to come.

A cold stream stained his cheek. His face blank, though his heart burned aflame. His fingers strained as they gripped his trusted blade. This was what he truly was, deep down, past the layers of draconian fury, cold apathy and blind hatred. Frightened, lost, and running from his truth.

In that moment, he hated Lucrecia more than anything in the world for forcing him to confront this fact. Yet even still, that tiny part of him continued to crave her, to be in her arms away from the pains he'd endured. But this brought him pain too. Was there nowhere to run from it, save for his impending existence as an uncaring God?

This was the first time he'd ever felt his mother's love. And as he glanced past her form, down to his blade– he wondered if it would also be his last.