Pater Familias

We landed. With glad eyes I beheld my brother. Standing in his beautifully xeriscaped front lawn, he wore the traditional black hanging robes of his discipline. They fluttered in the strong wind of the helicopter. I barely waited for the skids to touch down before leaping out to greet him.

“Kanie,” he breathed, enveloping me in his long, strong arms.

“Syv,” I returned, swelling with the unreserved adoration of my older brother. Of all the people I’d ever known, Syvas alone had always cherished me.

He smelled of clean dirt, patchouli, and lemon balm. I hugged him tightly, able to show my feelings for him in a way I’d not accomplished in seventy years. I felt him stiffen with that unprecedented show of affection, felt him relax and sigh in relief and pleasure. His wiry muscles bunched underneath my arms before uncoiling to release me. I looked into his eyes, so like mine.

“Brother,” I said.

“Brother,” he returned, his gaze full of love and wonderment. His lips turned up. I saw tears of gratitude and devotion hanging at the very corners of his eyes. “You are such a good view in my heart.”

I clasped him to me again. “I love you, Syvas,” I said.

A noise escaped him, a noise like a whimper and a sigh. “I know you do,” he said, clenching me tightly once more. “You never had to say it, Kanie.”

“Maybe not,” I returned, inhaling his comforting, familiar scent. “But, you should know it.”

We held each other a long moment. I felt my impoverished soul opening to drink the water of his unconditional love. We were of equal height now, but I hadn’t known because I’d only embraced him while still a teenager. Seventy years stood in between me and the only constant love I’d ever known. Anew, I rued the way I’d neglected the blood of my veins.

I’d had the most precious fortune here in Gongaga. In my madness, I’d forgotten that.

“I want you to meet my son,” I said, stepping back. “You might know him already, but I promise you, you don’t already know his perfection.”

Syvas smiled at me and it felt like the sunrise. “Any child of yours is already perfect, Kanie,” he murmured.

I motioned to Sephiroth, who stood uncertainly at the door of the chopper. Come, boy, I said in my mind. Come and meet the man who loves you sight unseen.

Sephiroth approached, his usual mask firmly affixed to his flawless face.

Syvas only hesitated a moment upon recognizing him. “Welcome, General Sephiroth,” he greeting, throwing his arm around Sephiroth’s broad back. “Nephew,” he finished, clasping him close. “By Da-Chao, you’re a strapping young man! Your pictures don’t do you justice by half!”

“My press is exaggerated,” Sephiroth answered, smiling hesitantly. He allowed Syvas to hug him tightly, his luminous, blue-green eyes seeking mine for guidance.

He loves you already, I sent. Accept it and go from there.

“Uncle,” Sephiroth said after letting go of my brother. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Not half as glad as I am to meet you!” Syvas chuckled and held him at arm’s length, examining at him. “Ah, you have your mother’s beauty but your father’s build! Look at this long muscle and height!” He clapped Sephiroth’s back and smiled up at him. “By the goddess, you’re a regular man!” He took him by the arm and guided him toward me. “Kanie, you devil! To hide this beautiful boy from me is unforgivable!”

I shrugged, smiling, inwardly acknowledging the truth of his words. “I know,” I said.

“Look at this!” Syvas grabbed a handful of Sephiroth’s hair and tugged on it. “Our grandmother’s hair!” He took my son by his cheeks and forced him to stand eye level to his lesser height. “And grandmother’s eyes!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I chuckled. “I didn’t know them, after all.”

“Well, no, you wouldn’t,” Syvas said in a solemn voice. “They died when you were four.” He looked back at my son, his eyes illuminated with familial pride. “You are so much like them,” he announced. “My grandfather, Lyles Hojo, was nearly seven feet tall, even up until the time he died. And grandmother, Cynthia Cordatia had these eyes!” He stroked Sephiroth’s cheek gently with his work-roughened fingers.

I beheld my son relaxing, accepting the loving touch of my brother. The sight filled me with such completeness. I knew if I died in the next moment, I would not regret it. This was the family my son craved, the connection he needed. I felt I would burst.

I wanted my son to have this. I wanted him to have this bond with his blood. I’d denied him this association all his life, both in ignorance and in circumstance. Now, to see what I’d prevented in ignorance, hurt me.

“You love music, do you not?” Syvas asked. “Of course you do,” he answered for himself. “Music runs in the family! Do you sing?”

“Only in the shower, when he thinks he’s alone,” Aerith answered, coming forward. She held out her slim hand to Syvas, smiling like the divine being I knew she was. “I’m Aerith,” she said. “I married this beautiful rouge.”

“Daughter,” Syvas replied, bowing over her hand instead of shaking it. “I should have known my nephew would link to such a lovely maiden.”

Aerith giggled. “Oh, stop,” she protested. “I’m no maiden, as you can see.” She rubbed her slightly swollen belly. “Sephiroth saw to that.”

Syvas spread his hands over her torso. “Ah, pretty lady,” he said softly. “You carry a boy, did you know?”

“Yes.” Aerith smiled at him. “His name is Rai.”

Syvas, looking as if he might burst from happiness, put his ear to Aerith’s abdomen. “He’s so active,” he murmured. “He’s set to meet the planet already. Are you ready, daughter?”

“I am,” she said in a gentle, heart-breakingly benevolent voice. “I know him now, and I’m very eager to hold him in my arms instead of my belly!”

“I’m sure you are, daughter,” Syvas said, his tone soothing and kind. “Your race is known for their motherly love.” He stood straight, stroking her hair and looking into her eyes. “My heart is so full,” he told her. “I love seeing you and he so in accord. Rai will have the best home a child can hope for.”

Sephiroth linked hands with Aerith, displaying his love for her without any reservation or hesitance. “Rai will have the best we can give him,” he said.

I closed my eyes. Paradise could not have this sort of joy for me.

When I opened my eyes, ready for more painful joy, Sakura already eased herself from the belly of the helicopter. Syvas walked to meet her, arms outstretched.

“Hello,” she said shyly. “My name’s Sakura.”

“Sakura,” Syvas said. “Cherry blossom is a fitting definition for a woman so brightly hued.” He motioned to her hair. “Though, a cherry blossom never had such vibrant color.”

Sakura ducked her head, a bashful blush coloring her cheeks. “All mine,” she confided softly.

“I never thought it was dye, my dear,” Syvas replied, taking her by the arm. “Welcome to my humble home. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I’m sure I will,” Sakura said, looking toward me.

“Good.” Syvas brought her to the group. “I’m sure you’re all ready for a short rest and a good meal. Why don’t you all come inside and make yourselves at home.” He gathered my family, ushering them all toward his front door. “My home is your home,” he said.

I followed them, feeling content for the first time in nearly half a century.

***************************************************************************

“Kanie,” Syvas said, his dark eyes warm and loving. He ushered me to a chair in his large, brown-hued kitchen. “Are you going to tell me or do I have to beg?”

I sat, smiling. “We have time,” I said. “Are you making tea?”

“Is the sun a daily presence?” he chuckled. He plunked an ancient kettle down on his wood stove and checked the inner chamber, the flames illuminating his smile-lined face. “How about a bit of black tea with orange?”

“Perfect,” I murmured. I listened with half an ear for my son, Aerith and Sakura. They’d stretched out in Syvas’ living room, absorbing the heady, hand-blended incense he’d lit upon our arrival. “My family?”

“Already resting,” he assured me. “I don’t know of anyone who could withstand oudh bark and poppy oil fumes.” He began setting out a tea service, his long-fingered hands clever with the silver implements. Once finished he started cutting a few oranges on a plain oak cutting board, his silver knife flashing in the dim, comforting light. “They’re beautiful,” he said honestly and reverently. “Why didn’t you tell me your son is the most talented and accomplished man on the planet?”

“I…” I shook my head. “Syvas, it’s so complicated,” I said.

“I imagine so,” he murmured, cutting efficiently and swiftly. “My poor Kanie, so stressed and yet so stressful.” He smiled at me, squeezing fresh orange juice into two small cups of pristine porcelain. “You’re so different,” he said. “I feel I’m talking to my Kanie of ages past.”

“I suppose that’s because you are,” I replied, digging into my pocket for a smoke. “My son’s wife is mostly responsible for that. She’s a Cetra.”

“I know.” Syvas brought a silver canister to the countertop and opened it. Measuring out a bit of cane sugar, he transferred a few spoonfuls to each cup. “Is she the last? I haven’t encountered her kind for fifty years.”

“She is the last as far as I know,” I revealed. “And I had her in my labs less than a year ago, trying to figure out her internal workings.”

Syvas nodded, his face grave. “She changed you, Kanie,” he said quietly. “But, her kind has that sort of power.”

I shook my head wryly, feeling the culmination of the last few months. “You have no idea, Syv,” I said. “She took my chaotic, disorganized brain, my pain and guilt and turned it all around.” I shook my head, focusing on the grain of the tabletop. “She saved me, and she saved my son. She brought us together by loving us both, and she takes that accomplishment as a matter of course. She doesn’t even count it as a personal victory; she does this sort of thing because it’s how she’s made.”

Syvas made a small noise of agreement. “I knew a Cetra, long ago,” he revealed. “He served in the regiment with me. Couldn’t fight worth piss, but he could heal us. Oh, how he could heal us.” Syvas’ eyes assumed a tired, gentle glow of fond remembrance. “Like all beings moderate and kind, he died trying to save the rest of us. He threw himself on a land mine.” Syvas heaved a large sigh. “I suppose even at this point there were very, very few of his kind left?”

“He must have been one of the last,” I concurred.

“Well,” Syvas said, checking the kettle. “He managed to save more than thirty of us. I know of no other soldiers to make that sort of sacrifice.”

“It fits.” I ran my hand over the worn wood of my brother’s kitchen table, well aware he’d fed and nurtured many children here. “I still have Aerith’s mother’s DNA in storage, but I can’t in good conscience use it; I can’t bear to hurt Aerith in any way.”

“I suppose not,” Syvas agreed. “But, it seems a shame that the human race did all the growth while the Cetra died off. Surely humans could only profit by the Cetra’s benevolent power.” He took the kettle off the flame and poured out tea. “We humans are all about destruction, Kanie, while the Cetra were all about love and harmony. I think we were meant to mingle and cross, evolving into one accord; I lament that lost opportunity.”

“I see nothing we can do now,” I said. “More’s the pity.”

“Indeed.” Syvas brought a cup of fragrant tea and a smile all for me. “But, you gained from her, didn’t you? You gained your son.”

“My son,” I sighed. “The most beautiful, most accomplished being on the planet; I think Aerith and I are the only ones who know how forgiving and generous he really is.”

Syvas sat beside me, lending me his comforting body heat while he drank his tea. “I know,” he said softly. “I felt it in him. He’s hard when he needs to be but soft by nature, humble in being while egotistical in accomplishment.” Syvas covered my hand with his own, fixing his dark eyes upon me. “Just like you, Kanie.”

“I love him, Syvas,” I confessed easily. “He’s perfect. He doesn’t even know how perfect he is.”

“That’s good,” Syvas said, chuckling. “If he knew it, he’d be insufferable.”

“He has reason to be insufferable,” I said, smiling. “Do you not see it in him? He’s a god among golems. I can’t believe he came from my loins.”

“Your son is indeed a god,” Syvas said gently. “But, he doesn’t want worshippers. He wants normalcy and routine and love.”

“Yes, I know it well,” I said.

We drank our tea, falling into comfortable silence. After a few minutes, Syvas collected our empty cups and washed them.

“I saw you on television,” he said. “The town gathered around a set in the community building to watch the trial of the century. We were all disappointed to miss hearing General Sephiroth’s testimony, and the picture went out shortly for good thereafter, but I felt very glad to catch sight of you.” He grinned. “I imagine I’d have received preparation for your son’s identity if I lived in a place with dependable electricity.”

Smiling, I nodded. “I didn’t let Sephiroth get out of the helicopter when we stopped in town for gasoline; I didn’t want us all mobbed.”

“A real concern.” Syvas turned to gaze upon me fondly. “Oh, Kanie, I can’t believe you’re really here and you’re so much the brother I knew long ago.”

“If you’re grateful for the change in me, Syv, I’m grateful you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I never change,” he said, his expression teasing. “I’m still the same, meddling old man who likes plants, even to smoking a few of them.” He winked. “Speaking of which, would like to smoke something better than tobacco?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I answered. Syvas grew the best cannabis on the planet.

I watched him take a box down from the china cabinet that stood behind us. He opened it on the table, revealing a silver tray, rolling papers, scissors, pipes and another box. As soon as he opened the lid on the smaller container I smelled the pungent aroma.

“I picked this cola just after you called,” Syvas told me. “Shall I see if the others want to indulge?”

I thought about it. I doubted Aerith would want to run the risk of harming her child. I didn’t know if my son would want it. I didn’t know if Sakura smoked cannabis. “Let’s wait,” I said. “Just you and me right now, Syv.”

So, my brother and I passed a little clay pipe back and forth a few times. Time stood still for us.