Anywhere but here: Becoming Sephiroth: Final Fantasy VII: Fanfic

[sanctum_c]

Title: Becoming Sephiroth
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Sephiroth, Jenova, President Shinra
Rating: Teen
Length: 2406 words
Content notes: Warning: blood, violence, death
Summary: Based on some head-canon courtesy of a discussion with raaj of just why Sephiroth returns when he does so in the game's plot and how Cloud's cell is opened.


He floated in endless white, only dimly aware of the passage of time and never able to truly gauge just how long it had been since his arrival. It didn't matter; he'd learnt too much to be concerned with such mundane trifles. He'd almost learnt all he needed to fulfill Mother's objectives and more besides. If he remained here long enough he would know everything. For now the Lifestream still was carefully guarding certain secrets; secrets he needed to know.

A distant resonance caught his attention. He'd felt an increasing number of them over his time here; some distant, barely discernible against the babble of voices that surrounded him. Others were stronger, coherent sensations that he felt gradually drawing closer. One in particular was more vivid than the others; it had once been two resonances but the second had abruptly vanished while the other had grown increasingly strong. He'd observed it curiously, not quite understanding what it was or what it meant.

The resonance fluctuated over time, becoming stronger and weaker by fractions until inexorably it intensified and suddenly he recognised it; the invisible connection that linked all Jenova cells. Knowledge flickered inside his head, time once again gaining meaning and duration. It had been five years since Zack Fair tried to thwart the mission Mother requested of him, five years since that blonde trooper cowardly impaled him on Zack's sword, five years since that same trooper had overpowered him in his weakened state and thrown him down into the Lifestream. The thought that once enraged him now merely amused him; that traitor would not have anticipated anything could survive the Mako. Nor could it have guessed at the boon he had granted the true ruler of the Planet.

Mother's voice whispered just on the edge of his hearing, guiding him, teaching him; he learned that he could use Jenova cells as extensions of himself. He reached out with his mind as directed, reaching across distance, attempting to link himself with the resonance. A connection was made and then he blinked into blackness. The resonance chimed with almost unbearable intensity; it was almost on top of him. On top of him? Wasn't he linked to the resonance? Mother's voice whispered explanations and interpretations of circumstance.

He was linked with what was left of her body, the empty shell now given consciousness once again. The darkness then was due to his own actions; he had decapitated mother's body at the reactor, intending to take her with him as he began her preparations. The form he now inhabited therefore had no sight. He made to withdraw before Mother whispered again; this body was powerful. It had lost none of its potency in the years of imprisonment, the years of study. He smirked anew as Mother described the body's potential; a conduit for his will, a vessel he could use to search the surface for his answers and directly gather the disparate fragments of her former self. The body was malleable, fully capable of assuming whatever guise he desired. He saw its potential then: he could remain in the Lifestream with the endless knowledge of the Cetra and still walk the Planet.

He concentrated anew; Mother's body slowly beginning to alter. It was painstaking work at first; the cells were like hardened clay after so long without a mind to control them. But much like clay as he worked them they became increasingly flexible. He did not wish to give himself away; not yet and certainly not while his control was still so tenuous. He formed new eyes in the wound atop Mother's neck and for the first time in five years, the headless body gained the ability to see once more.

He was in a metal chamber, surrounded by harsh white light. He extended his reach out to the body's senses, chemical pathways now connecting and relaying the oppressive chill of the space. Nerve threaded throughout the body as he examined the state Shinra had left it in. Aside from the head which lay with him, it seemed complete and whole; not that even severe damage had much chance of slowing Mother's form.

It was more than enough for him to begin. Whatever had resonated with him and called his attention here had moved away, but he could still feel it close by. It was in motion again, drawing away from him vertically. The other resonances were still distant, but now he could sense each one with a much greater clarity. Could he control them too given practice? He would need to experiment. He let time wear on as the resonance passed closer to him and then away once more; he would investigate that when able.

The lights outside dimmed and the resonance remained still. He finally began to truly mould and change Mother's body: a new head formed up out of the vacant neck as long damaged and unusable arms reformed. Muscles flexed and he reached out with talon like fingers, sinking them effortlessly into the surface ahead of him. With a surge of effort, he tore the heavy door away from it's frame, letting it fall away from him with a heavy thud. He staggered out of the chamber, his frigid skin steaming in the warmer air.

He paused, looking around his surroundings, curious as to where he now was. It did not take long for an unwanted familiarity to come crashing in; this was Hojo's lab within the Shinra building. A lab in which he had spent far too much of his childhood, poked, prodded and tested by the cackling, twisted scientist. Anger washed over him at the thought. He was no longer bound by social conventions or mundane rules; in this resurrected form he could resume his revenge against the traitors who crawled on the Planet's surface, in particular those who'd once had him at their beck and call.

He stared at the mottled skin of his arms and legs, a new desire running through him; he would come to them like a ghost out of their pasts. Striding with tottering but increasingly confident steps he crossed to the nearest reflective surface, finding a section of stainless steel in the cluttered laboratory. He studied the otherworldly feminine form mirrored there and then concentrated. Silver hair erupted from his head and cascaded down his back. His chest flattened, now forming itself into a sheet of sculpted muscle. His skin cleared and darkened to his former colouring as his face now gained a nose, a mouth, ears and teeth. He revelled in his new self, a new version of him. Almost unbidden the uniform he had been wearing five years ago now formed around him, and after a moment of concentration he reworked the Masamune into existence.

He was whole again, feeling the world around him, the chill air of the lab, the feel of the metal floor beneath his boots. There was a slight numbness across his form, a slight disconnect between mind and body. He presumed this was simply due to distance, and paid it no mind; it was already fading. Mother's body was now effectively a second skin. First things first; he needed to know what that resonance was. He pivoted smoothly on his heel, stalking out of the lab, the root etched into his memory from years past. A technician looked up as he entered the corridor, eyes widening for a moment before the Masamune robbed him of his life.

He watched with amusement as the body ceased its futile struggle; another soul to be added to those he would eventually consume. The guard he met outside the prison cells was barely awake when the sword skewered him with precision, nothing but a faint gurgling coming from his throat. The resonance was close now, this cell? No, this next one. The chamber was secured with an electronic lock and he searched the downed guard, finding the requisite card clipped to his belt. Swiping it through the reader he let the door open and stepped over the threshold, halting in surprise.

On the cell's single bunk was a dark-haired girl who seemed strangely familiar to him. He couldn't precisely place her, but he felt as if he should know her, had once known her. He did not dwell on that for long as the other occupant of the cell, sat slumped against the opposite wall, drew all his attention. He recognised that same shock of blonde hair. Would he still have those same blue eyes; one of the last things he remembered seeing before he plummeted into the Mako? Unexpectedly, improbably, impossibly; that same trooper still lived. That same trooper was also the source of the resonance, and as he reached out he could feel what that body felt. The discomforting feel of a cold metallic floor beneath him as his mind swirled with a confused mass of memory and nightmare.

Should he take his revenge against this man, this boy, who had so slowed his plans or thank him for depositing him into the treasure trove of knowledge that was the Lifestream? Prior to that he had never even heard hints of something like the Black Materia and the knowledge it held. He examined the trooper's body, extending his mind to shift one of the sleeper's fingers. It was awkward, exhausting, but it moved. He could indeed control the resonances. It was an order of magnitude more difficult than Mother's body; manipulating a proxy via a proxy was a complex task. Potentially he would have to override the resonance's consciousness as well before he could dictate it's actions. He could do it though, could see how to. He would need more time to practice first, more time to finesse the skill. But the potential was staggering.

He'd let this puppet live for now; i could be useful later. His goal at present was revenge against the traitors that had so shackled him in his former life. He considered dismembering the sleeping girl, but dismissed the idea. An angry puppet might be harder to control; let him sleep, wake and be unaware of what lay in store. Let him escape his confinement never knowing he was a tool to be called upon when needed. He left the cell open, and continued around the corridor. The door to the stairwell was locked and the guard's key-card would not open it. No matter. He tried to sink his fingers into the surface as he had in the lab, but the composition was different or the surface thicker. He could not simply tear through it.

Frustrated, he stalked back to the lab and forced the specimen elevator up to the next floor. There were more technicians here. He took their lives with brutal slashes, trailing blood and gore as he ascended the building, finding more and more humans. More and more traitors. Traitors who could not be allowed to live. These vermin were part of the organisation that had once hidden his true greatness from him; forced him to battle mundane petty wars for their economics when he was capable of so much more. Now they lay broken and still in his wake.

He approached the top of the tower, unsurprised to find President Shinra still working at his desk. This one he would truly make suffer. He crossed the floor in seconds, watching in delight as the President's eyes widened in surprise, then shock and finally fear as he saw the figure approaching him. "S-Sephiroth!" he blurted before the silver-haired figure's fingers were around his throat.

"President Shinra," he sneered.

"I-I-I thought you were dead," choked the blonde man, wild-eyed and panicked.

"No. I have merely slumbered. I return to you now as the rightful ruler of the Planet. Your reign is over Mister President," he said with a hissing emphasis.

"Please. We- I could help you."

"Help me?" he chuckled, low and menacing. "I need no help from Shinra."

"I can get you money," the man pleaded, fingers clawing at the hand that held him.

"I have no need of it. I need not food, shelter, sleep or companionship."

"The Promised Land!" the terrified man blurted. "We can tell you everything we know about it."

"It's location?"

The man looked distraught. "No, but-"

Sephiroth scowled, fingers tightening as he interrupted. "I know more than Professor Gast even guessed at. If you cannot provide me with it's location you have nothing to offer me. I assure you that Shinra will never set foot in the Promised Land. It is something neither you nor your company will ever possess."

"Then what do you want?" Fear was now giving way to annoyance and dismissal. He remembered the President at swanky dinners he'd been forced to attend as the de facto world leader had elaborated how he kept the Midgar populace in check; anyone could be bought was his boast. He probably believed that despite his words the figure before him was simply angry and a sufficiently large payment would see him leave or return to the Shinra fold. Neither appealed in the slightest.

"I want your life." He watched the President process the information, eyes widening once more, voice squeaking a protest. Sephiroth smashed the man down onto the desk and with a flick of his wrist slammed the Masamune down through him, pinning the President into place. He knelt beside the still struggling form, it's hands desperately grasping for the sword even as it's life ebbed away in choking coughs.

"Goodbye, Mister President. I will see you again. And soon."

He rose and strode to be balcony that encircled the tower's upper floor, his next course of action clear; seek out the Black Materia. But where to start? He knew that it was somewhere on the Planet, hidden away by the same Cetra that had once crafted it. But where to start? Not here at least. He stepped up onto the rail and jumped forward, arcing through the air towards the city's edge. Remarkable; Mother's body could alter the effect even gravity had upon it.

He felt the resonances within the city respond to his movement overhead, their motion arrested before they began moving, however slowly, towards him. He smiled as he landed and then began stalking across the wasteland away from the mako city, his puppets following inexorably as he began his search for the ultimate destructive magic.