Paper Tiger Burning

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.




I awoke to the sensation of Hojo against my body. Though my impulse to shy away was strong, I nonetheless stayed still. We lay in the bed alone. I heard Aerith in the kitchen.

I glanced down at my father, surprised he’d curled up to me after Aerith’s departure. I put off a lot of heat; perhaps he’d sought it. His hands clutched my hair in tight fists even though he seemed to sleep soundly. I wondered how a man afraid of hair could seek mine, or Aerith’s for that matter.

It felt odd to have him use me as a stuffed animal. I wanted nothing more than to shove him away, yet I didn’t.

I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. He made a sound of contentment as most of my hair slid over his body. It concerned me that he might be reverting to a childish mien. Shin-Ra would have no use for him if he became infantile. Though I could do without Shin-Ra (and I intended to), he probably couldn’t.

I couldn’t believe I worried about him at all.

“Is he gone, Syvas?” Hojo mumbled against my chest. “Is father gone?”

He thought I was his older brother, the potions maker in Gongaga.

“He’s gone,” I said quietly.

“Good.” The fervent reply raised the hairs on my neck. “I hope he never comes back.”

“He won’t,” I assured him, though I had no way of knowing what memory might be vexing him. “You can rest now,” I added.

Suddenly, Hojo stiffened. His fists unclenched. Slowly, he turned his head away from my pectoral to look at all the hair covering him. I moved it back so he could see my face. His black eyes blinked his confusion. Then, reality flooded his mind. He attempted to sit up. I uncoiled and aided his effort.

“I have an uncle,” I said.

“Yes.” Hojo answered softly. “I haven’t spoken to him in several weeks.” He brought a shaky hand to his face and rubbed his three-day growth of stubble. His subdued manner held no embarrassment for his weakness, just quiet surrender.

“What tipped you off that I wasn’t him?” I asked. “You believed it until I told you to rest.”

“You…have similar voices, but Syvas…” Hojo drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Syvas calls me by a childhood endearment.” His eyes slid around the room as if he’d never seen it before. I realized Hojo was completely coherent for the first time. Sleeping beside the flower girl all night must have healed him.

When I slept beside her, did she passively heal me too?

“I want to meet my uncle,” I said, feeling curious. “Do I have any other family?”

“Not that I know of.” Hojo absently rubbed the initial I’d put on his forehead.

“No grandfather or grandmother still living?”

“No, and be thankful for that.” Hojo grimaced. His quiet voice resounded with utter sincerity.

“You have an interesting collection of scars, father,” I said. “I take it my grandfather gave them to you?”

“Yes.” Hojo reached out to the window and drew the blind back so he could peer out into the rainy day. “He liked to make me scream,” he went on, his voice completely untouched by the memory. “I suppose my treatment of you came naturally. I understand the inclination for abuse runs in families.”

“How did he die?” I watched him carefully, alert for any sign that he hid something from me.

“Syvas killed him. He put poison in his liquor.” Hojo looked up at the grey clouds, his dark eyes quiet. “Mother followed not long after. She loved him despite his ways and died of a broken heart.” He swept his gaze downward before turning back to me. “Why are women so determined to succor evil?”

A short laugh brought our attention to the bedroom doorway. Aerith grinned at us. “Because no one else will,” she answered. “Breakfast is ready.”

We followed her to the kitchen. I kept a hand under Hojo’s arm, seeing he wasn’t at all steady. The aroma of strong coffee and waffles made my stomach growl. I seated my father as Aerith began setting out our plates. I caught a whiff of her scent as she bent close to me, and I closed my eyes in enjoyment.

“Maple syrup or blueberry?” she asked my father.

“Either, both, Aerith, thank you,” he said, surprising me. He hadn’t called her Cetra and he’d used his manners. He never used his manners. He talked to everyone the same way, rudely.

I watched in bemusement as Aerith poured maple syrup on his waffles first, then drizzled blueberry on top in the shape of a pi symbol.

“Sephiroth?”

“Blueberry,” I said, wondering what she would do to mine. I got my plate back. She’d made a heart on my food. I caught Hojo’s eye as our hostess wandered back to the refrigerator. Our identical, displaced expressions exchanged. I huffed a little laugh.

No one’s ever prettied up my food before, I heard Hojo think as he picked up his fork. It was the first time I’d heard his thoughts without a confused jumble of words and emotion.

Aerith put a bowl of blueberries on the table and sat between us. “You both look better this morning,” she remarked. “See how good it is to sleep? I’ll bet neither of you do it very much.”

Hojo’s shoulders assumed a guilty slant.

I nearly laughed out loud. Aerith had taken the place of Hojo’s mother. How the mighty will fall.

Hojo shot me a withering look. Amuses you, does it, boy? He thought at me. We’ll see how amusing I find it when this girl puts a ring on your finger.

I felt my eyes widening. She’d never marry me, I though back with heat.

Wouldn’t she? She cooks for you and she actually cares for you. She’s mending your sick, deranged old dad; I think that counts for something.

She’d do that for anyone, I sent back. And that was true. If she could heal the pair of us then she could bear to heal anyone.

Would she let someone else paw her?

At this I glanced at Aerith. She hummed a little as she cut her waffle into tiny, exact pieces. Her contrast to Hojo couldn’t have been any clearer; she was a vision of smooth, effortless beauty and goodness. She actually glowed. Her aura of healing and compassion made her an absolute flame. She felt me staring and turned her head, a ready smile for me on her pink, full lips.

“Would you let someone else touch you the way I do?” I asked her bluntly.

Aerith’s smile faltered. The seriousness of what I asked reflected in her balsam eyes. “No one’s ever touched me the way you do,” she said quietly. “I don’t wish to let anyone else attempt it.”

I looked back at my father. It felt like going from day to night. His sharp, angular face with black stubble, black eyes and hair stared back at me.

See? He thought. Take some advice from your horrible old father. Put a ring on her finger before someone else does. You can’t pass this one up. Not only is she forgiving and beautiful, she’s actually able to spread her legs for you. She’d give you an heir, too. She’d probably have as many children as you wanted.

Hojo looked pointedly down at my heart-covered plate.

He couldn’t have rammed his point home more effectively with a hammer.

You just want test subjects, I shot back sourly. I wasn’t quite ready to believe in Hojo’s reformation. It would take a lot of consistent behavior for me to be certain.

Sephiroth, I couldn’t withstand the sort of children you’d sire, Hojo replied. Not that you’d ever ask me to baby-sit.

“So much mental chatter,” Aerith murmured. “I’m glad I can’t read minds.”

We both eyed her. She continued to cut her waffles in those maddeningly perfect squares. She put a blueberry in the center of each square before covering the plate in a flood of maple syrup. “I shouldn’t eat this,” she announced. “But my sweet tooth is killing me.”

We commenced breakfast. I covertly watched her, mulling over what Hojo had said all the while.

“What shall we do about Havars?” Hojo asked, looking to me. “Just as importantly, what shall we do about the Shinra Twosome?” He put his fork down to grab his coffee, his eyes moving over both of us. “The Cetra isn’t going to have much of a life trapped in this apartment, and you aren’t going to have much of a life if Lucas Havars manages to get control of you. Shin-Ra controls both threats.”

“You said Havars didn’t need financial backing,” I reminded him. “What makes him answer to Shin-Ra in the first place?”

“Shin-Ra is probably providing him with children,” Hojo answered. “You don’t imagine it’s really all that easy to abduct a great many at one time from the wilds of Wutai?”

I thought of my own, bleak childhood. Of all Hojo had done to me, I knew he’d never come close to killing me. Hojo had refused to work with Havars because the man used children. It made him a hypocrite, but things like hipocracy never bothered my father.

I thought of Eldon’s little girl.

I thought of Jannae and Johan, the children of Arthur Warburton.

A flash of something unpleasant swooped through my belly.

“Killing Havars would solve a few problems,” I answered.

“You’d have to be awfully slick about it, boy,” Hojo replied. “No one could know you’re to blame; Shin-Ra’s successfully made you into a household name again, though a tarnished name. If you want a normal life you’ll have to always pretend you aren’t a killer anymore. You can’t leave people skewered upon various things with your Masamune, looking like butterflies with a distinctive push-pin.”

The analogy made me smile. Too, the memory of pinning the elder Shinra to his desk made me smile.

“The military is a good place for you,” Hojo went on, jerking me back from happy remembrance. “But the military as run by Rufus Shinra is dangerous.” His eyes cut to Aerith. “Cetra,” he probed not unkindly. “What do you think?”

Aerith sighed. “I think all men are made for killing each other, that’s what I think,” she replied softly.

Her observation quieted breakfast. After a few minutes Aerith got up and fetched the coffee pot, refilling our cups. “What about you, Hojo? Shin-Ra employs you as well.”

“The company can be separated from the owners,” Hojo said dryly. “The question is how to do it.”

“It requires careful consideration,” I said at last. “We have three separate but dependant enemies. Sowing dissent between them will weaken them as a whole. Also, we cannot allow them to perceive us as a danger.” No more games for me. No more pretending mental imbalance or prodding Rufus.

“You let me know what you come up with,” Hojo said in a mild tone. He focused on his breakfast fully now, but his eyes seemed clouded. “But don’t come to the labs. Don’t give Havars the chance to interrogate you.”

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

“Sir?”

I looked up at Eldon. “Yes?”

“Lucas Havars is in the foyer. He wants to see you.” Eldon shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable. “He says he won’t leave until you see him.”

“Does he?” I pulled a smirk. I didn’t fear the man. Hojo could fear him all he liked, but I feared very little in this life. Perhaps I should talk to him, see what he wanted from me. “Show him into my office, Eldon,” I said smoothly. “Leave the door open. Listen in all you like.”

“Yes, sir,” Eldon murmured, smiling a little.

In a moment I raised my eyes to see a light eyed, dark haired man entering my private space. His grey eyes washed over me, my office and my furnishings swiftly. “General Sephiroth,” he said.

“Mr. Havars,” I greeted in return. “What can I do for you?”

Havars chuckled. His swarthy face and thick lips held a tinge of pink. “The elusive General Sephiroth,” he said by way of repeating his greeting. “You’re a hard man to track down.”

I instantly disliked him. It made my gut squirm to imagine the countless children this man had ruined. I was too close to being a ruin myself to not take exception to him. “Not so hard,” I argued quietly, sizing him up. He seemed young, just like I’d heard. Yet, I knew him to be similar in age to Hojo. His muscle mass, while respectable, had a flat quality. His eyes shifted back and forth in the room restlessly, as if he constantly scanned for anomalies. “I’m usually in my office between one and five in the afternoon,” I continued, bring his gaze back to me.

“Not for the last week,” Havars countered.

“I’ve been ill,” I said.

“Indeed? I didn’t think it possible for you to become under the weather.” Havars sat across from me on the other side of my desk.

“No one is perfect,” I murmured, resting my elbows on the desk. “And there are many different types of illness a man may succumb to. Now, what did you come here for?”

Havars laughed again. “To the point, aren’t you?”

“I’m known for it,” I responded.

We stared at each other a beat too long for polite discourse.

Havars quirked a grin. “Where is Professor Hojo?”

“Professor Hojo, as I understand, is on sick leave,” I answered. If not for Aerith my father would be dead, not just sick, and it would be this man’s fault. I wondered if he missed the assassin he’d sent. Probably not. Hired killers were a gil a dozen in Midgar. “But you’re in his department,” I went on. “Someone should have informed you, surely.”

“Oh, I’ve been informed,” Havars answered, waving his meaty hand. “But I thought you might know more, considering you’re his…project.”

So, he wanted to play it this way?

“Professor Hojo is only my designer, not my keeper,” I said softly. “Nor do I keep him. I cannot enlighten you as to his health.”

Havars grinned. “You’re a well-made thing, aren’t you? You speak well, anyway.”

I realized Havars didn’t consider me sentient. He didn’t think of me as a person at all, just a construct of Hojo’s. His arrogance and short-sighted attitude grated against my nerves. I’d had quite enough of people considering me two dimensional. Perhaps I’d been guilty of having a limited personality in the past, but not anymore. I felt things now, felt things deeply. Still, if Havars wanted to deal with me as a thing and not a person, I could oblige him all too well.

“You’re asking me for an opinion on myself?” I asked lightly. “I thought you were here to discern Professor Hojo’s status.” I could kill him for thinking himself superior to me. Only by the warnings of my father did I hesitate to summon the Masamune. My sword could kill a god; surely it could kill this vermin on the other side of my desk. So many problems would end so quickly with just a short, sharp thrust to his belly.

I didn’t even require a real reason.

“Yes, do give me your opinion on yourself,” Havars replied, taking out a small notebook. “As your maker’s supervisor I’m obligated to check his work.” He scribbled my name down, underlined it and looked back up at me. “You don’t have a last name, do you?”

I smiled coldly. “You can put Hojo down, if you like,” I said quietly. “He is my maker, after all.”

Havars chuckled, obviously quite amused. He obligingly wrote Hojo after my name. “I didn’t expect you to have a sense of humor,” he admitted, actually making a notation of it. “A sense of humor is usually hard for a construct to learn.”

“I have a highly developed sense of humor,” I said, sitting back. I picked up the mangled paperweight to my right and began mashing it like a ball of stress putty. It creaked and groaned loudly. “I would have to develop a sense of humor, don’t you think?” I asked him, noting how his eyes followed my clenching hand. “I’ve died and been resurrected three times now. I think that’s the height of humor.”

“Do you?” Havars wrote some more, his brow furrowing. “What’s so funny about being killed and reanimated three times?”

“Not reanimated,” I corrected. “Resurrected.” I dropped the paperweight back down on my desk. “I refuse to stay dead.” I smiled at the scientist. “My will to live and Hojo’s ingenuity prevent my tombstone ever being carved. Don’t you agree that there’s an element of comedy in that?”

Havars shrugged. “Not really.”

“Perhaps if you were in my place you’d appreciate it more,” I replied. “Hojo and I could enlighten you if you wish.”

Havars’ eyebrows rose until they disappeared under his hair. “Are you offering to kill me and have Hojo bring me back to life?” he asked, his voice disbelieving. “I don’t believe that’s prudent or possible.”

“Possible, yes,” I answered. “Prudent, no; I could certainly kill you but I doubt Hojo would voluntarily resurrect you. He’d have to be forced, I believe.”

Havars released a shaky laugh. He scribbled furiously in his notebook. “Would you be the one to force him, General Sephiroth?”

“No. When I kill people I mean for them to stay dead,” I answered.

Havars slid his pencil behind his ear and regarded me. “Are you threatening me?”

“I never bother with threats,” I replied. “Threats are for the weak.”

Our eyes met and held.

“What have I done to you that you’re so hostile?” Havars asked after a moment of squirming under my gaze.

“Haven’t you read my charts?” I asked.

“Your charts are nowhere to be found,” Havars answered. “I can find no paperwork on you at all.” By his tone I knew he’d really, really looked. He’d probably sent his hit man in to kill Hojo and steal all the papers he could, figuring they occupied his apartment when he couldn’t find them in the labs.

“Ah.” I nodded. “I suppose it’s hard to keep paperwork on me. I have a propensity to destroy things. You work in the second Shin-Ra lab, you know, and this compound we’re sitting in is the third. I have quite a temper.”

Havars swallowed nervously. “If you’re as volatile as you claim, why are you allowed to work here?”

I shrugged. “I believe Rufus would rather have me where he can see me. I get up to all sorts of mischievous behavior if I’m not given directives.” I stood up, watching Havars’ eyes track me to the window. “Hojo made me to be a killer, a destroyer. I’m surprised you don’t know that, Mr. Havars. I’ve cut a path across the world. Being a native of Wutai you should understand that quite well.”

“Shin-Ra sent an army to decimate Wutai,” Havars replied slowly. “You were not alone.”

“You’re quite correct,” I admitted, leaning my back against the window. With the sunlight streaming in from behind I knew I would be a silhouette now, and Havars would not be able to see my face except for my glowing eyes. “And I had nothing against Wutai. Point of fact I rarely have anything against anyone.”

“Yet you’re obviously prejudiced against me,” Havars said. “Has Hojo set you against me?”

I smiled even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I’m Hojo’s magnum opus, Mr. Havars,” I replied. “But surely you know Hojo better than I do. I’m just a construct, aren’t I? I couldn’t possibly have an opinion.”

Havars blinked. His eyes wandered my form a moment. “He made you very, very well,” he said. “I have to give the kook credit. You’re leaps and bounds beyond anything I’ve made.” He went back to writing in his notebook. “I want to know how he did it, how he made you.” He paused. “And I want to know how he keeps bringing you back to life.”

“I’m afraid I can’t enlighten you.” I stepped out of the sunlight. “The sword doesn’t tell the blacksmith how to wield a hammer.” I went to the bottle on my side table and poured a measure of orange liquor into a glass. When I handed it to him he visibly forced himself not to shrink back. “But I can tell you Hojo guards his methods. You’ll likely never know how he made me.”

Havars drank the full glass. “Why didn’t he make more than one of you?” he mused aloud. “If his methods are so dependable, if the end result is so perfect, why not continue?”

I chuckled. “Why indeed?” I sat back down, looking at Havars overtop steepled fingers. “Ask him. And when you get an answer, do enlighten me. I would have enjoyed a few brothers and sisters to play with. I’m sure we could have had a grand old time. I do get tired of breaking ordinary toys.”

A third time our eyes linked. I could not easily pick his thoughts out of the air, but observation told me more than mind reading ever did. I saw him wondering how close I was to Hojo, how loyal. He wanted to know more than he admitted, including Hojo’s current state. My father’s blood decorated the apartment yet he’d obviously felt well enough to call in sick time. And, the hit man was no where to be found. Havars wondered why my sick time and Hojo’s overlapped.

Havars cleared his throat. “Let’s try another vein of thought,” he offered. “How often must you report to Professor Hojo to maintain your abilities?”

“I am complete.” I let my eyes wander over Havars unhurriedly. “Still, I’d be very, very upset if the only doctor capable of treating me disappeared,” I murmured. “I think it’s safe to say I’d be murderous if something happened to him.”

Havars put his pencil down. His grey eyes shifted a bit in sudden fear. “I see,” he said.

I wanted this man to know a gruesome fate awaited him should he make another attempt upon my father’s life. Hojo’s life was mine to toy with, and mine only. “Do you?” I picked up the paperweight again. “Professor Hojo is important to my continued well-being; he knows how to handle me when I’m not so capable of making good decisions. You might say his presence prevents a lot of indiscretion.” I mangled the piece of metal a little more, swiftly, making it shriek and groan. “I know Rufus certainly values Hojo’s management of me. And, I’m sure he’s aware that I wouldn’t respond so favorably to anyone attempting to take his place.”

Havars licked his dry lips. “You’re very loyal for a construct,” he murmured.

“I’m practical,” I corrected. “It’s easier to keep Hojo than to replace him.”

“So, it’s safe to say you won’t rely upon me for your…anger management,” Havars said.

“I don’t think it wise to rely upon you for that,” I answered. “Hojo is the only person who can control me when I get…puckish.” Complete lie, but Havars would never know that. Even should he check he would only hear of how I went to the labs when I felt…off.

Havars checked his notebook. “One more thing,” he said. “You brought charges up against Sheila Shinra for attempted rape, sexual assault, and trespassing. Have these charges been answered?”

“Not as such,” I admitted. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Havars gave me a look of disbelief. “Why go to all the trouble of pressing these charges upon her and then let them ride?”

“Rufus doesn’t want me to make waves, I suppose,” I said, dropping the paperweight once more. “But he knows to keep her away from me. I will kill Sheila if I have to deal with her in any way other than a purely professional capacity.”

“I see.” Havars scribbled something down. “What did she use to incapacitate you?”

“A modified roofie that she stole from Hojo,” I answered easily. Let him think only Hojo could cook up a drug able to take me down. “But I’m immune to it now, having had it in my system once; it’s part of the brilliance of my design. I don’t fall to anything more than once.”

Except Cloud Strife…

Havars rose from his chair. “Well, this has been less informative than I imagined, but still a useful conversation,” he said, placing his empty liquor glass on the desk.

“Indeed,” I said. I stretched out my forefinger and shut my office door with my mind. Time to take off my gloves. I didn’t especially feel like letting Havars go yet. He didn’t yet understand how seriously I took his attempts upon Hojo’s life. “Stay just another moment,” I bade him.

Havars looked at my closed door. His eyes swung back to me with reluctance. Still, the gleam of appreciation and interest for my special ability made his eyes less fearful. “How did you do that?” he asked. “The Jenova cells?”

“You’ll have to ask Hojo,” I answered quietly. “But no, on second thought, don’t. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Havars put his hands on the desk, leaning toward me slightly. “Why don’t you want me talking to Professor Hojo? Are you afraid he’ll tell me things that might make your position around here less lofty? After all, if I know how to handle you, it makes you weaker, doesn’t it?”

I smiled. “I’m not concerned with weakness.” I gestured to the chair. “Please, sit down again.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Very well.” I stood up and walked around my desk, coming to stand directly before the man. I towered over him. I stared down into his grey eyes, noting some fear as well as some defiance. “Stay away from Hojo.”

“Or what?” Havars asked. “I’m his supervisor. It is my job to interact with him.”

Again I smiled. “You didn’t grasp a bit of my warning to you, did you, Mr. Havars?”

“I’m not all that confident a construct would be able to warn or instruct me upon anything,” Havars replied, inching back.

“Of course, you’re right,” I said. “Good afternoon. Be so kind as to shut the door behind you on your way out.”

Havars quickly left. I leaned on the edge of my desk, thinking of the possible ways I could get the man to lead me to his test subjects…