Pater Familias

“Mira,” I heard my brother scolding softly. “Kanie isn’t a cat person.”

Mira made a chirruping sound.

“Oh, he is?” Syvas sounded amused. “Well, maybe for you, you glorious beast.” I felt the bed moving as Syvas leaned down to stroke the balefore. “And just maybe he’ll take one of your babies?’

Again Mira chirruped.

“I should have never given you that potion,” he murmured, but I felt him petting her. “You’re a shameless hussy, you know that?”

Mira’s tail curled around me again.

“Oh, you like Kanie?”

The tail tightened.

“Yes, I understand.” Syvas stopped petting her and stood back. “He’s a predator, just like you.” He touched my shoulder. “Wake up, Kanie,” he said softly. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

I stirred, not liking the contrast between sleep and consciousness. “Syv,” I groaned.

“I know,” he said in the most soft, gentle voice. “But, you must eat. Let go of Mira and come in to the kitchen. Your son and daughter-in-law have already gone, but Sakura and I are waiting on you.”

I wrestled up from glorious, comforting sleep. Yawning, I put a hand on Mira. “Your master is cruel,” I said.

Mira made sound low in her throat. She flopped back down and closed her golden eyes.

Staggering, I got up from bed and found my feet. I felt different. Meeting my brother’s eyes, I sent him a silent question.

“You’ll feel odd for most of the day, I’m afraid,” he told me. “But, you aren’t going to transform any longer, Kanie. No more mutations when you get angry. I couldn’t do anything about the color change, though, sorry.” He took me by the elbow and began walking me to the kitchen. “You’ll feel just a little bit weak the first few hours. After that you’ll be much stronger.”

He had to stay beside me. I found myself wandering into things the moment he would let go. I’d have felt alarmed if I didn’t have a fog in my head and my brother at my side.

Syvas draped one of his black robes around my shoulders. “Sorry, brother,” he said. “I didn’t think about you coming to breakfast half nude with a lady present.”

“I have on trousers,” I muttered.

“Yes, but some ladies don’t like scars and bare chests,” Syvas replied. He buttoned me up in the living room, making sure to secure the sleeves of the garment so I wouldn’t trail it in my food. “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt, but also avoid the problem altogether.”

I didn’t feel like telling him Sakura knew what my chest looked like. I let him lead me into the kitchen and sit me in a chair. A plate of eggs, asparagus and white sauce appeared before my eyes. I blinked at it, strangely unconcerned with food.

“Hojo? Are you okay?”

I turned to find the voice, discovering Sakura sat beside me. The concern in her eyes warmed me. “I’m fine, just under the effect of Syvas’ potion,” I told her, groping for my fork. “He’s rid me of my mutations.” I couldn’t get the damn silverware to stay in my grip. It fell onto the floor.

“Here, let me,” Sakura said. She speared a stalk of asparagus and dipped it in the white sauce. “I know it’s not very dignified to be fed, but you probably should eat.”

A left-handed person sitting on one’s right has a difficult time feeding another left-handed person. I kept trying to reach for my water glass just as she got food to my mouth. Syvas noticed. He tried to hide a smile and failed. “Dear me,” he said. “Are we all lefties?”

“Aerith’s ambidextrous,” I mumbled.

“Well, good for her.” Syvas put a plate of buttered toast between us. “An entire group of people familiar with the left-hand path.” His smile gleamed joyful mischief.

“Are you sure Hojo’s going to be alright?” Sakura asked, her voice low with worry. “It looks like he keeps forgetting to chew.”

“He’ll be fine tomorrow,” Syvas assured. “Today he’ll have to take it easy and do a lot of napping.”

“I’m right here,” I managed to say. “I’m a temporary invalid, not a permanent one.”

“See?” Sakura demanded. “He’s got the words but not the tone. Ordinarily he’d say something like that with a snarl on his face.” She fed me the last of the eggs, bypassing my attempt for the water again.

I peeled my lips back from my teeth and bared them at her. “Happy?” I growled.

“Better,” she replied, promptly shoving asparagus toward my face.

Once breakfast concluded, Syvas took me by the arm again and led me outside. “Come with us, Cherry Blossom,” he said quietly. “Grab a few blankets, would you?”

It seemed I stumbled over the brightly lit grounds for an hour before we reached Syvas’ destination. I looked dumbly down at the lawn chair, a faint memory of Costa del Sol surfacing in my numbed brain. Shiva, I’d gotten laid that weekend. I couldn’t remember all their names now. Sheri, Donna and…Terri? Mary? Oh well, there were four of them, I knew that. We’d broken the beach chair. Come to think of it, I’d broken my elbow too. Sheri took martial arts…

“Sit, Kanie,” Syvas said, pushing me down into the chair. I collapsed into it and stared up at the green canopy of leaves over my head, catching glimpses of a brilliant blue sky.

“Umm, Syvas? There’s a big cat following us.” Sakura moved to stand almost between my brother and I.

“That’s Mira.” Syvas covered me in blankets. “She won’t hurt you. She’s coming out here to protect Kanie while you and I explore my greenhouse.”

“We can’t leave Hojo like this!”

“I assure you he’ll be fine. Mira wouldn’t let anything happen to him. We’ll only be gone a few hours.” Syvas set a pitcher of ice on the ground beside me. On my chest he laid my cigarettes and a few joints. My lighter he tucked into my hand. “Besides, a man needs peace and solitude when his mind journeys inward.”

A few blinks later and I only had the cat for company. I put my hand on her head and petted her. “Hello again, Mira,” I said. She still felt like silk. Her rumbling purr vibrated my hand. “You’re a good kitty.”

She bumped me affectionately.

I felt emotionally distant from the things that occupied my mind. Slowly, I lit a smoke and inhaled. The blue vapors danced and curled, drifting up toward the green and blue covering overhead.

I drifted for time unknown before I heard something. I moved my gritty eyes to see Vincent Valentine standing over me, the tatters of his red cloak whipping in the breeze. Those crimson eyes stared down into mine. Slowly, he bent down and removed the burned filter from between my fingers and tossed it aside.

Taking my smokes, he shook one out and lit it before tossing the pack back to my chest. Mira paid no attention to him whatsoever.

“Valentine,” I greeted, watching him stand there and smoke. “I’d offer you a chair but I don’t have one.” It occurred to me I wouldn’t have heard him approach me at all if he hadn’t wished it. He could have killed me and left before anyone could see or seize him.

Valentine frowned. He leaned over me, placing a cold thumb under my eyebrow, lifting the lid to examine my eye. “You’re drugged, Hojo,” he said.

“My brother’s doing,” I explained, wondering why I hadn’t recoiled in fear when he touched me. “He’s purging me of mutinogenic transformation.”

“I see.” Valentine blew a plume of smoke, looking at me thoughtfully. “I came to see if you wanted to visit Lucretia.”

“She’s dead,” I replied.

“No, she isn’t. She’s trapped in a cavern.” Valentine flicked away the half-finished cigarette. “But, she might as well be dead. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, doesn’t react to anyone.”

“Then why do you visit?” I dipped my hand into the pitcher of ice and got a cube of manageable size, putting it in my mouth.

“Because she has no one.” Valentine squatted beside me, his eyes boring into me. “Did you even love her?”

“Yes, but she didn’t love me.”

“How do you even know? Did you ever ask?”

“I couldn’t ask her that.”

“Why not?”

“She would have laughed.” I sat up a little to spit the ice out. “My perfect little scientist liked to laugh.”

Valentine seemed to frown again. “She married you.”

“I filed for divorce right after I shot you,” I told him. “If I’d been thinking clearly I might have shot her, too. She fucked you everywhere she could, even in my office, if you’ll remember.”

Valentine looked away, his head jerking with the movement. His shoulders hunched.

“See, Valentine?” I said. “She didn’t love me. How could she feel love for me while letting you put your cock to her twice a day for nearly a year?” I laughed and lit another cigarette. “I hope she treated you well. She wouldn’t even touch me.”

The ex-Turk closed his eyes. “She always held a part of herself back from me,” he murmured, “the part that belonged to you.”

“Funny, that’s what I came to believe.”

“You were cruel to her.”

“No more so than she was to me, Valentine,” I replied. “How do you think it feels to live with infidelity like that, hm?”

“I don’t-.”

“Just answer the question.”

Valentine faced me once more. “It hurts,” he said softly. “It hurts knowing your woman goes to another man.”

“You’re damn right it does.”

He went silent.

I watched the leaves dancing with the smoke…

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


“Father.”

Once again I opened my eyes to see my son. “Hello,” I mumbled. “Valentine gone?”

Sephiroth scanned the clearing, his eyes seeming to miss nothing. “There is no one here but you and this cat.”

“Must have imagined it.” I groped the blankets and found something that felt like a cigarette. Not knowing or caring, I lit it. Ahh, not a cigarette. “Get the seeds for my brother?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth bent and picked me up carefully, tucking my blankets close. Cursing, he held me with one arm to retrieve the plethora of cigarettes and joints he’d let fall to the ground.

Unconcerned, completely trusting my son’s ability to keep me aloft, I puffed away. Smoke billowed up in his face. He coughed. Shoving my stash into his pocket, he proceeded to carry me across the lawn.

“Is the marijuana part of Syvas’ healing regimen?” he asked snidely.

“Apparently,” I replied, blowing more smoke in his face. I would get Sephiroth to smile if it was the last thing I did today.

“Shiva,” he swore. “You really are a junkie.”

“And why not?” I posed. “It won’t hurt me.”

“It doesn’t harm me to drink poison, but you don’t see me doing it.” Sephiroth carried me into the house. We’d traveled a lot of ground very quickly. Either that or the trip out hadn’t taken as long as I believed.

“Yes, you’re a paragon of virtue,” I declared, waving my arms. “Slaughter the world before breakfast but don’t dare smoke a spliff!”

Sephiroth stopped abruptly to just stare down at me. His lips twitched. Suddenly, he chuckled. “You’re a cheeky old bastard.” Gathering me more tightly, he continued to carry me through the living room. “But, you have a point.”

Mission accomplished. I’d gotten my brat to smile and laugh.

With the greatest care, Sephiroth carried me into the bathroom and sat me down on the closed toilet. “Can you bathe by yourself?” he asked, looking discomfited.

“Do I need to bathe?” I sniffed myself. “I don’t stink.”

“You’re covered in ash, your hands are filthy and there are leaves in your hair,” he answered. He plugged the tub drain and turned on the faucets. “You have resin under your fingernails and you haven’t brushed your teeth today.” So saying, he plucked my toothbrush off the sink and ran it under some water. Taking up the toothpowder, he liberally applied it and handed me the brush. “And, you’ve almost got a beard.”

I shuddered. I’d tried to grow various forms of facial hair for effect and never liked any style. The goatee came the closest to inoffensive. Lurching up, I shoved the toothbrush in my mouth and stared at my reflection. I looked hellish.

I grabbed for my razor, but Sephiroth intercepted, taking it up before I could even grasp the handle. “First, your teeth,” he ordered. “And if you think I’m letting you use a straight razor in your condition, think again. I’m the only one allowed to slit your throat.”

I laughed, spraying toothpowder and spit on the mirror. My attempt at cleaning it off only resulted in a smear.

Sighing, Sephiroth cleaned off the mirror. He checked the temperature of the water and shut the faucets off. “Hurry up, dad,” he said. “I’m not thrilled at the idea of bathing you anyhow.”

“Then send my pretty Cherry Blossom in here,” I said, rinsing and spitting afterward.

“She’d take one look at you and run. You look like a vaudeville villain in monk’s robes.”

“Then send Syvas.” I dropped the toothbrush and began struggling with the robes.

“Syvas had an emergency. Some old man in what passes for town here, fell and needed a bone knitting potion.”

“Aerith, then,” I suggested. “She wouldn’t be impressed or disturbed.” I got the top button undone but the next one confounded me.

Sephiroth slapped my hands out of the way and took over. “My wife could miscarry just looking at you,” he growled. “Besides, she’s out in the greenhouse, soaking up all the plant life. She so rarely gets an opportunity like this, and I’m not disturbing her.”

He stripped me efficiently and nudged me toward the tub, grabbing my glasses at the last moment. I lowered myself into the water, sighing aloud at how good the hot water felt. I didn’t get to luxuriate. Sephiroth turned a sprayer on and tugged out my hair tie. Water ran all over me.

“How much of this behavior is related to joints and how much is the remedy uncle Syvas gave?” he asked.

“I’ve just had one joint.” I covered my eyes as my son shampooed my hair. “Am I really so bad?”

“You’re…scattered,” Sephiroth grunted. He rinsed my head and applied a conditioner. “I don’t even know what you’re thinking.”

“An untold crime.”

“Don’t be snide.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re a difficult old man, you know that?”

“You’re awfully cocky when I can’t tattle on you to your wife,” I answered.

“I should let go and allow you to drown.” Sephiroth rinsed me again. Taking up a nail brush, he squatted by the tub and proceeded to clean my hands. I felt his eyes on my chest. “Did your father do all that to you?” he asked.

“Yes.” He must be looking at those slowly fading scars.

“With a shovel?”

“It was more like flat-head spade.”

“Why have the scars not healed?”

“I have no idea. Syvas treated me. I believe he had to use a cruder potion, sacrificing finesse for speed. I almost bled out.”

Sephiroth dipped my hands in the water to clean them off. Standing, he tugged me upright and wrapped a towel around me. I looked down and saw the bath water looked very murky.

Again I found myself seated on a closed throne. Sephiroth began mixing shaving powder in a mug. “I’ve never done this,” he muttered. “I don’t have facial hair.”

“I know.” I didn’t understand why. He had plenty of hair on his head.

He soaped me, slathering the cream on thickly. Testing the razor on his thumb, he then turned the water on in the sink, adjusting it to a slow trickle. “Do you go against the hair or with it?” he asked, poising the razor over my jaw.

“Against it,” I murmured, trying not to get shaving cream in my mouth.

Sephiroth carefully applied the blade. I sat very still, seeing how nervous this made him.

For long minutes he worked, his eyes completely upon my skin. Then, his eyes flicked up to mine. “You trust me utterly, don’t you, father?”

I smiled.

He released a breath and continued. “Your heart rate hasn’t increased at all,” he muttered. “In fact, it’s slowed.” He scraped around my mouth before moving to the other side of my face. “Shiva,” he complained. “Your hair is as thick as the fur on a dire wolf.”

“It used to be that way all over, until an idiot dropped me into a chemical bath.”

Sephiroth glanced at my arms. “Yes, I remember you had hairy arms.”

“I had hairy everything,” I said bitterly. “I liked it, too.”

Sephiroth’s lips curled in amusement. “Lost your masculinity, did you?” He rinsed the blade and tilted my head back so he could work on my neck. “Well, no use crying over lost hair.”

I made a mental note to put a depilatory in his shampoo and see if he cried. But no, I wouldn’t do that. I’d grown to appreciate his mane.

“I thought you had an aversion to hair,” he went on. “You whacked mine off every chance you got.”

“Only because the female techs couldn’t stop touching it; I fired the one I caught braiding it in cornrows.”

“I remember that.” Sephiroth finished shaving me and grabbed a washcloth. “Instead of undoing the braids, you just shaved it all off.” He cleaned me up and wiped the razor, giving me an intense but mysterious look. “You never had other people do that,” he said softly. “In fact, you didn’t let anyone else tend to my hygiene except for the decontamination showers.” He handed me back my glasses.

“I didn’t trust anyone to look after you, not even Gast.” I attempted standing and failed.

Sephiroth helped me up, guiding me into my bedroom. Sitting me down, he grabbed a pair of drawstring pants from my suitcase. “Step in,” he told me, kneeling. I obliged. He pulled them up, then me, finished and yanked the towel away. “Are you cold?”

“No, but I expect I will be in a few minutes, when my core temperature goes down.” I still felt floaty, but not as badly as before.

My son again pawed through my suitcase. Finding an undershirt, he tossed it to me. “Will that be enough?”

“Probably, but I’d feel under-dressed.”

He waited until I’d put on the undershirt before putting my arms through another. “You have to be hungry by now,” he muttered. “It’s long past lunch and approaching supper.”

“I could eat.” I didn’t feel hungry at all, but Sephiroth tended to nag about my meals.

“Alright.” He buttoned me up, rolled my cuffs back a little and aided me to stand once more. I leaned on his strong shoulder, allowing him to grip me by the elbow and steer me all the way back to the kitchen.

Sakura sat at the table, a mess of papers scattered before her. She looked up and saw us, her face brightening. “Hi,” she greeted. “You look much better, Hojo.” Her gaze went up to my son and back down quickly. She gathered her papers into a semblance of order as I sat beside her.

“I understand I looked a fright before,” I answered. Looking at the top paper I saw a drawing of a plant. She’d apparently been sketching some of Syvas’ vegetation.

“Not a fright,” Sakura corrected, “just a bit disheveled. Odd to see you that way; you’re always well groomed.”

Sephiroth snorted, walking by us for the ice box. I knew what crossed his mind. Sakura hadn’t seen how untidy I could become while absorbed in my work. But, disinclined to embarrass me in front of my prospective paramour, he let the issue slide.

I met those pretty grey eyes, appreciating her. She liked, even anticipated my company. Very few people, if any, had ever preceded her. At this point I didn’t care to know what she saw in me. I leaned in slowly, kissing her forehead. “Beautiful girl,” I murmured. “Are you entirely sure you want charge of me?”

Sakura, her cheeks pink, nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

“I like that idea.” I snaked an arm around her. “Is it too early to speak of being exclusive?” Holy Ifrit, her curves felt good.

She drew in a sharp breath. N-no,” she stuttered, her eyes going wide. “I’d…like that, Hojo.”

“Even though I’ve not proven I’ll be worth your time as a lover?” I leaned in, breathing the scent of her fiery hair. Shivering, Sakura became pliable in my arm. That small show of surrender made my blood heat to a boil.

“I’m sure you won’t frustrate me,” she answered. “You told me you wouldn’t.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

I bent to kiss her again, but Sephiroth appeared beside us with a plate, plunking it down on the table. “Father, tend to your stomach before you tend to wooing,” he ordered. His eyes went to Sakura. “My apologies, Miss Leijanna,” he said in a softer tone. “He’s not quite as capable as he seems right now. I understand his enthusiasm, but he can’t even walk by himself.”

Sakura’s blush became a violent red. “I didn’t expect-.” She stopped and tried again. “That is, I wasn’t looking for him to-.”

“I know.” Sephiroth offered her a friendly smile, surprising me and no doubt her as well. “Would you mind helping him eat? I need to find Aerith.”

“Of course.” Sakura quickly picked up a knife and quartered my sandwich. “I’ll be glad to help.”

Thinking my son had become a horrible cock-blocker, I scowled at his back.

“Oh, don’t be mad at him,” Sakura said soothingly. “He doesn’t know you and I haven’t…”

“I’m sure he suspects,’ I said, taking up a piece of the sandwich. “But, I have to admit. The way he treats me makes me believe he’ll be a wonderful father.”