Pater Familias

To keep our day as low stress as possible, I went online and ordered the groceries instead of trying to pencil that in on a day we’d be buying clothes. I asked they come delivered to Sephiroth’s apartment. He remained young and I considered it his job to carry things for me.

Sakura balked at shopping in the first place I chose.

“Oh no,” she said, folding her arms and refusing to get out of the cab. “Have you ever shopped in that place? There’s nothing under five hundred gil in there.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I would not revert to her Neanderthal boyfriend’s form and simply yank her out of the vehicle, no matter how tempting it seemed. “Taph’s is perfectly fine to someone who has lottery winnings in the bank,” I said. “If I must wear flannel I refuse to look like a sod-digger.”

“What’s wrong with digging sod?” Sakura gave me a look that would have destroyed the Sister Ray in five seconds.

I’d done it now. I’d pissed off a botanist. Of course she’d find nothing wrong with digging sod. Feeling like an idiot, I handed the cab driver a hundred gil note and got out of the cab. “Fine,” I said, opening her door. “I’ll shop for myself in here. We’ll go somewhere else if you insist upon it.”

“What’s wrong with digging sod?” she repeated, getting out and slamming the door. The cab driver hit the gas, glad to be rid of us. We’d argued about footwear all the way here.

“Nothing, if you like that sort of thing,” I said, attempting discretion. “But, I’ve never enjoyed it. I worked a garden for many years while growing up; it was our principle means of eating. I promised myself I’d never do it again and I haven’t.”

“Oh.” Sakura began to blush. “I forgot you’re from Wutai.”

“I’m delighted you did forget,” I said, taking her by the arm and steering her into the shop. “It shows you can stop thinking of me obsessively.”

“You can be such an ass,” she hissed, trying to yank away from me. “And, your ego is over the top.”

“I’ve had eighty-four years to develop this ego,” I answered, tugging her toward the men’s section. “As for my being an ass, I think you knew that.”

She remained quiet as I sorted through flannel shirts that didn’t fall into that gaudy check-pattern I so loathed. So determined was she to keep her anger, she failed to notice my throwing a few into the cart in her size. Feeling smug, I took us over to the denim and started trying to find appropriate jeans. I really didn’t like jeans either, but they proved durable and warm.

“So help me,” I heard my son’s voice say, “I’ve never seen you wearing jeans. I’ll probably drop dead.”

I looked over to see Sephiroth and Aerith in the very next aisle. Aerith waved, obviously quite happy to see us. “Hi, Hojo, Sakura!” she said cheerfully. “We had the same idea, I see.”

“Aerith is enjoying spending my money,” Sephiroth explained. His eyes traveled to Sakura, who looked a little embarrassed. “I see Miss Leijanna is not of Aerith’s inclination to spend, spend, spend.” He paused. “How fortunate for you, father.”

Aerith slapped his arm. “You won’t want to wear your usual outfit all the time,” she said. She grabbed him by his sleeve and started tugging him toward the women’s clothing. “See you later, Hojo, Sakura!”

“Goodbye,” we both said at once. We looked at each other. Sakura grinned. “She rules him with ease,” she commented.

“Sephiroth likes bossy females,” I clarified. “Not overpowering, domineering females, but ones that know what they want.” I put three pairs of jeans into the cart. “And, you obviously like me to be domineering, so get some clothes.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, looking much like my son for a brief moment. She put two pairs of men’s jeans in her approximate size into the cart. “Happy?”

“Thrilled.” I took us over to the shoes. I should expect a reformed rich girl to loathe shopping; however, I felt this struggle akin to quieting a rowdy specimen. Since I couldn’t dose her with Hypnocol, I had to utilize my patience and powers of persuasion.

Although, dosing her with a milder, benevolent hallucinogenic might prove entertaining to me. Perhaps I’d be able to hear her thoughts with drugs other than alcohol. I couldn’t continue to press liquor upon her anyway; the entertainment value and information gleaned wouldn’t balance out against alcoholism.

Would I cross that line?

I looked at her. She had a pair of boots in her hand, frowning at the price tag. They seemed high quality. She put them down, taking up another, less expensive pair. Slowly, she sat to take her track shoes off. Her long, brilliant hair obscured my view of her lovely face.

No. I would no sooner make a project out of her than attempt to take my boy back to the labs. Some things, some people became sacrosanct. This lesson came hard to me. I’d lost my wife and son to this truth. I had Sephiroth again, but we would never have the sort of relationship we could have.

He feared I would make another Number One with this woman in front of me. I wouldn’t. Never would I experiment on my own flesh again. Neither would I make any female, a lover or wife, or not, a carrier for my diseased ambition. Even had I the inclination, I would never see a woman behind glass and not see Aerith.

I picked up the first pair of boots. “Something wrong with these?” I asked.

“The tongue is too short,” she grunted, stepping into a boot. “The laces will get underneath and strangle my foot.”

I accepted that answer. If she’d said anything about the price I’d have made her try them on. “You might need something with a thicker sole,” I murmured, having a look around.

“I know what she needs.” Aerith appeared at the end of the aisle, sans Sephiroth. “She needs gardening boots.” In her hands she clutched a very familiar style of footwear. “Fortunately I can get them in the proper size now,” she said, winking at me.

I stopped her as she drew parallel to me, handing her my credit card. “You two shop,” I said, relieved someone else would handle Sakura’s pesky, irritating aversion to shopping. “Where is Sephiroth?”

Aerith gave me a wide-eyed look of amusement. “Thrilling the people in the food court above us,” she said, pointing up. “They want to feed him for free and he won’t accept it. I left him drinking a slushie beside a statue.” She looked at Sakura, her smile broadening. “You know you’re going to need good socks, right?”

I left them gladly. No matter how much I admired women and understood their language, I’d never be one, thank Shiva. Let them do their girly talking, spend my money and get things accomplished. I’d sulk with my son.

I found him leaning insolently underneath a statue of Da-chao, iced drinks in a rainbow of flavors slowly melting at his elbow. All over again I felt such pride looking at him. A beam of sun made his silver hair radiate. His strong, broad shoulders bore the weight of two sling bags, the straps of which dug into the leather patches on his black sweater. He looked like a god standing there, attempting to nourish himself with humanity’s unhealthy wares instead of manna. A truant god, slumming.

He had a gaggle of giggling admirers standing close by, but none of them had the bravery to venture close. His green eyes glittered. Every so often they’d reflect the flash of a cell phone camera. The public loved my son. Only his reputation as a paparazzi-hater kept news hounds at a distance.

I got a taste of his fame while approaching him. Several cameras flashed in my direction, disorienting me.

“It’s better if you blink often,” he informed quietly. “If a flash takes you off guard, just blink rapidly.” He held out his hand, took me by the shoulder and guided me to stand beside him. “You have your choice,” he said, his voice slightly ironic, slightly amused and very, very slightly pissed off. “There’s the red shit, which tastes like cherry alcohol vapor.” He pointed to the appropriate cup. “The yellow tastes like banana barf. The blue is a mystery, but the green is very definitely coffee-mint.”

I shuddered. “What did you end up with?”

“I drank the chocolate mint; it looked exactly like mako and I couldn’t help myself.” Sephiroth shot a glance at the slushie stand, where an obviously infatuated teenage boy stood staring with doe eyes. “He’s calling it Mako-Mint, actually; said he’d made it with me in mind.” Sephiroth sighed heavily. “I’ll send the men here for their nasty, iced confections. Maybe Jules over there will find a suitable replacement for me.”

I picked up the banana barf, finding his summation apt. “You must get tired of being beautiful and breaking hearts,” I said, not able to help teasing him.

“Screw you, father,” he said, his expression unchanging. “You made me like this.”

“I had nothing, and I mean nothing to do with your looks, boy,” I said, taking a small sip of my drink. “You’re handsome on your own merit, not mine. Granted, your remarkable physique is related to mako engineering, but your pretty face isn’t.”

“Really?” Sephiroth’s hopeful voice made me look up.

“Really,” I vowed. “You just happened to get the best of my looks and your mother’s.”

Sephiroth’s eyes showed pleasure for a moment before clouding. “I always wonder if my successes are entirely from mako,” he said softly.

“Not by a long shot, son.” I drank more of the revolting slushie, wincing. If I didn’t have such a thirst I’d happily leave it alone. “But, don’t think of it as mako-tainted success. If anything, that mako makes you closer to the planet than anyone, except your treasure of a wife.”

Sephiroth smiled and several people gasped. More flashes went off.

“Why is it,” he said, “that fame makes a person public property? I might as well be this statue. I’ll bet by tomorrow everyone on the planet will think I’ve taken up Wutainian religion.”

“It is a holy effigy,” I pointed out. “And, I am Wutainian.”

“Anyone who knows me understands I’m a godless atheist.” Sephiroth seemed to force his way through the rest of his drink.

“If it’s so horrible, why drink it?” I asked.

“Because Jules will commit suicide if I don’t,” he answered, giving a little snort. “Yet another SOLDIER-hopeful entering the program because of me. He starts his training in two weeks.”

I made a mental note to be kind to the poor young man when he came through for his first mako treatments.

We stood there together a few more minutes, slowly working our way through the nasty beverages. Our audience did not tire of us. I marveled at their lack of anything better to do, but Sephiroth, apparently quite accustomed to this phenomenon of rubber-necking, placidly ignored everyone.

I’d probably inured him to such behavior anyway; he’d lived in a glass walled cell with people looking at him constantly. I recalled his complete apathy to spectators by the age of six. Still, one could occasionally piss him off.

One time in particular stood out in my mind. I’d taken him out for exercise and a routine medical screening. Eager for his run in the training rooms, he’d dragged me along with little heed to my protests. At that age he’d been as strong as me.

A newer intern, a foolish man who’d already caused me more accidents and mishaps than anything else, had intercepted us.

The interns’ first mistake centered around his complete disregard for Sephiroth’s state as a living, breathing boy with thoughts and feelings. His second mistake had been to grab him unexpectedly. Even I’d known better. I always showed Sephiroth what I meant to do, and even though he didn’t like ninety percent of my meddling, he tolerated most of it. Only Gast and I could do anything with him, probably because I remained a constant face and Gast a kind one.

I remembered acutely not being able to pry Sephiroth’s hands from the intern’s neck. Knowing he’d made up his mind, I stepped back and let him choke the man to death. I couldn’t prevent it, after all, and he’d proven a useless team member.

A bloodless first murder for my son, but a thorough one.

“Your thoughts circle around your mistakes like carrion around a corpse,” Sephiroth commented, tossing his empty drink container into the nearby receptacle. “Now that your inner workings are so audible, so clear, I’m remembering many things I’d forgotten.” He gave me a look so reminiscent of his early days, I shivered.

“I don’t know how to block you, son, I’m sorry,” I said.

“I don’t think you can.” Sephiroth gave the next slushie a nudge, as if contemplating drinking it. “But, I don’t mind hearing you. Like I told you, you never lie to me in your thoughts or with your mouth. Reading your mind is like listening to you speak, though with more brutal efficiency.” He picked up the cherry alcohol vapor slushie and started in on it, masterfully containing a wince. “You never lied or made promises, which I respected even when I hated you.”

I flinched, but Sephiroth hadn’t finished.

“But, you’re wrong about why I listened to you as well as Gast.” Sephiroth abandoned the slushie, turning his head to fully face me. “I understood you knew more about me than Gast. I enjoyed his company because he smuggled candy to me, and because he treated me like a little boy instead of a project. Still, you always explained what you meant to do, even when I didn’t ask. You didn’t talk down to me.”

“You were still a prisoner,” I said, feeling more and more in contact with my monster of yesterday.

“Being born in captivity isn’t the same as being captured in adulthood.” Sephiroth shrugged eloquently. “I knew I wouldn’t get out. I appreciated knowing what came next; it gave me the chance to figure out how to deal with it. Gast, believing ignorance bliss, wouldn’t tell me anything. He related to me like any other child, which I wasn’t. I don’t believe I would have been like any other child had you raised me outside Shin-Ra labs.”

“Likely not,” I relented, letting go of one, tiny part of my guilt. “Mako doesn’t make you smart, Sephiroth, and neither do Jenova cells. You began showing preternatural intelligence by the age of four months. By six months you could speak four-word sentences.” I remembered I still carried him with me everywhere I went at this point. I’d read to him from chemical bottles, signs and reports, noticing he absorbed my voice and the language like a sponge.

When he tired of learning to read, and slept, I often looked down at him in awe and a feeling of success. That tiny infant sleeping in a sling around my neck had such potential. I hated that he wasn’t mine. But, he still had Lucretia’s blood, and I loved her enough to cope with Valentine being his father.

If only I’d known. I might not have treated him any differently; I didn’t know. Insanity gave the world a chaotic slant.

“I don’t know that I could have raised a child I believed belonged to my cuckolder,” Sephiroth said in a very quiet voice, mindful of our spectators.

“I wasn’t noble,” I argued quickly. “I had a lot invested in you.” Granted, I’d been unable to harm a little baby, but that didn’t make me a good person. “And, you were never, ever boring. Every day brought a surprise from you.”

Sephiroth sat on the low wall, tugging me down to sit beside him. “You’re starting to look a little green,” he said. “Sit and breathe normally. I don’t think these people could take the sight of your Jenova form.”

I forced my breathing to follow a three-in, three-hold, three-out pattern. I felt Sephiroth put his hand on my shoulder. The solid weight of it brought me great comfort. Every so often someone took another picture. I supposed the family scene irresistible to the more soft-hearted ones.

My son.

My forgiving, unbelievable son. He had more beauty than even he knew.