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 sound of a loud engine and a stiff breeze. Opening my eyes I spied helicopter blades whirling over my head. Hojo still had me in his arms and we were walking toward Sephiroth’s apartment building. Already I felt a little stronger, but not by much.

“We’re going to Sephiroth’s apartment first,” Hojo informed, seeing I’d opened my eyes. “He still has the key, thankfully. Neither you nor I can phase through solid walls without him and I’m sure he doesn’t remember how to do that.”

“How did he take the great outdoors?” I asked, turning my head to look for Sephiroth. Currently, he walked just ahead of us, his shoulders, neck and back as stiff as a board.

“He functioned through it,” Hojo said. “But I think the helicopter ride is what helped. He liked flying.”

“I can hear you,” Sephiroth commented, sounding distracted. His head turned this way and that as he took in our surroundings.

We entered the building. Hojo handed me to Sephiroth and punched the elevator button. I looked up into Sephiroth’s beautiful, aqua eyes as he looked down into mine. His arms tightened around me just a bit. “You’re very pretty,” he said in a soft voice. “Your eyes are like the plants we flew over, except that they glow a little.”

“I have mako, just like you,” I clarified, smiling.

“Were you in SOLDIER?” Sephiroth took me into the elevator car.

“No.”

“I experimented on her just like I did you, Sephiroth,” Hojo said, punching the third floor button. “But I didn’t give her J-Cells.”

Sephiroth continued to look down at me quietly. I loved his innocent, appreciative expression, seeing myself through his eyes. He had no lust for me, just honest pleasure. It assured me. He liked the way I looked even without his libido urging him on.

“He treated you badly and he’s still your friend?” Sephiroth asked. “Why?”

“Because he’s sorry for what he did and he apologized,” I answered. “Hojo was very sick in his mind when he hurt me.”

“Was he sick when he hurt me?” he asked, stealing a glance at his father.

“Yes.”

“But he’s better now.” Sephiroth brought his full attention back to me. “And you made him better.”

I took the smallest instant to just admire Sephiroth’s logical, precise mind. He seemed to forget nothing. Still, we’d both apparently forgotten large chunks of our past, strangely.

“I helped him,” I said, “but he wanted to get better. He didn’t like who he was and he worked to change himself very hard.” I reached out, patting Hojo on his shoulder. The scientist gave a small noise of relief at my contact. “Hojo is trying to be a good man,” I went on. “And now that he’s not ill it’s a lot easier.”

Sephiroth waited until we stood outside his apartment to ask his next question. While Hojo dug the key out of his son’s pocket, Sephiroth pinned him with his eyes. “What made you so sick?” he asked bluntly.

Hojo thrust the key into the lock, sighing. “I don’t know, boy,” he answered. “Maybe it was my father’s drunken abuse. Maybe it was genetic. I’ve thought about it and nothing stands out as a clear reason.” He opened the door, stepping back to let us precede him.

Sephiroth carried me inside and just stood with me in his arms while his eyes scanned the large living room. I weighed zero to him and it showed. Gaze lingering on nothing in particular, he breathed deeply. “This place smells like you, Aerith,” he commented.

“It’s the perfume you gave me,” I said. “You can put me on the couch if you like.”

Very gently, Sephiroth placed me upon his leather sofa. He then stepped back and resumed looking around. His beryline orbs tracked his father’s progress to the other sofa before hesitating on a mirror hanging on the far wall. He walked to it swiftly and looked at his reflection.

Hojo and I held our breaths.

For a long, long moment Sephiroth studied himself. He took off his coat, letting it drop heavily to the floor, and stood looking at his body and face. Slowly, he tilted his head. I saw neither sanction nor disapproval in his gaze.

Curiosity only held him. Vanity did not peek out. I wondered exactly when his ego had taken charge.

Slowly, he angled himself so he looked at Hojo in the glass. “Why is my hair so white and so long?” he asked.

Hojo half-smiled. “You seem to prefer it long. The color is a mystery.”

“White is not a color,” Sephiroth argued absently, combing through his locks once with his fingers. “White is the absence of color.”

“I’ve always thought that was a stupid summation,” Hojo groused under his breath. “The definition of color depends on what one can see. You don’t look at something white and think that it’s no color at all.”

Sephiroth’s mouth quirked up a little. “But you’re the one who told me that white isn’t a color,” he pointed out. He turned away from the looking glass abruptly.

“I make mistakes,” Hojo said in a tired voice. He walked toward the kitchen. “I’m cooking a light meal,” he announced. “I’m starving.”

“Make pasta,” Sephiroth ordered in a very preoccupied sort of tone.

“Right.” Hojo caught my gaze. Very deliberately, he rolled his eyes. I clearly understood his message; Sephiroth was domineering even at this young age.

Smothering a smile, I nestled deeper into the couch. I still felt exhausted. I regretted Sephiroth wouldn’t think to hold me right now, that he wouldn’t be compelled to keep me in his arms. I’d rest until Hojo finished making supper. My eyelids felt so heavy…

A few moments later they shot open at the sound of Sephiroth humming quietly. He stood at the window, his long, strong hand on the cord of the blinds and holding the slats at the very top of the frame. Dreamy-eyed, he gazed out upon the grey and industrialized cityscape. His low and melodic voice carried a smooth but powerful melody. The tune escaped me but it didn’t matter one bit.

My eyes filled with water.

Child Sephiroth was musical. He shared this with his father. The poignancy of it hit me in a good but painful way, showcasing such juxtaposition. I wanted to take him in my arms and share in his private, musical world. I wanted to listen to him forever, letting his dark baritone wrap me up and carry me in his soft, velvet voice to anywhere and everywhere.

Instead, I lay there paralyzed.

He eventually let the blinds drop. With a casual, easy swipe of the back of his hand, he turned the slats down to block the light. “I remember the outside,” he murmured to himself but out loud. “If I recall that, the rest will come.”

What an extraordinary child he must have been. So confident, so skilled, able to do what had to be done even within his own mind. He reordered himself with breathtaking ease. I might not have to heal him at all. He might remember on his own before I recovered. It wouldn’t be too unlikely, not with his awareness and prepossession.

Sephiroth crossed the room to kneel beside me. Eyes taking me in, he leaned close. “You’re crying,” he said softly, reaching out with a slim finger to gather up my tear. “What hurts?”

“You’re beautiful to me,” I confessed, “so lovely. But I know you as well as anybody can, I think, and seeing you like this makes me feel pain.” I had no better explanation. I hadn’t wanted him to go through this trauma, to forget himself, but he managed to make even this worrisome backslide an exercise in admiration. I had so many emotions tied up in this I imagined I knew how Sephiroth felt, struggling from one extreme to the next.

Sephiroth brought my glistening drop of pain to his mouth as he watched me. His tongue lashed out. He tasted my hurt.

“You mystify me,” he disclosed. “But I like you.” Sitting back on his heels, he regarded me soberly. “What is your nature, that you can heal minds?”

“I’m not entirely human,” I answered softly. “I’m half something else. That other half has the ability to heal minds and bodies.”

Sephiroth tilted his head. “You look entirely human to me,” he observed. “But I believe you. I guess being half…Cetra?”

I nodded. Hojo must have been calling me Cetra in Sephiroth’s presence. I couldn’t remember much about my attempt to heal Sephiroth.

“I guess being half Cetra is what made you grab Professor Hojo’s attention?” Sephiroth’s eyes coated over me at his leisure. “But you really are quite pretty; I suppose that caught his eye too.”

“I don’t think he noticed me as a woman,” I replied, amused. Apparently my initial belief in Sephiroth’s neuter state was wrong. Or, maybe he was remembering more and moving into teenage years. Still, high advancement in consciousness and mental function combined with an adult body could create sexual awareness in him. I had no way of knowing.

Sephiroth considered me another long moment. “Do you have any children?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I answered. “But someday I want at least one.” Would he remember these conversations upon gaining his right mind?

He nodded as if he’d expected my answer. “You’ll be a good mother,” he announced. “You have a very kind manner. I can feel it from where I sit.”

“You have some empathic talent,” I replied, reaching out my hand to lightly touch his cheek. He didn’t flinch away from me or seem stressed at my movements. “I wish I could have healed you already, but I’m just too weak. I spent a lot of time healing very sick children just before I met you and Hojo in the shower room.”

“You worry over nothing,” Sephiroth said. “I’m content to wait.” He reached out, returning my earlier touch with one of his own. His finger slid over the dried tear trail on my cheek. “I’ve never felt anything as soft as you,” he confessed, eyes wondering. “Are you like this all over?”

I couldn’t help it. I blushed. “I guess so,” I managed to say. He definitely moved into his teenage years. Now that I looked closely I could see male interest sparking in his eyes, struggling up from childish indifference. By the Planet, that had been fast! His ability to repair himself took my breath away. I couldn’t mend myself that fast, and I was by nature a healer. But this showcased just another part of his unconquerable will. If he continued to progress toward his fully adult self at this rate he would be completely healed by tomorrow, easily.

Sephiroth could never be accused of being a slouch in any way, shape or form.

“Do you have a man?” Sephiroth’s chauvinistic question confirmed my suspicions of his emergent sexuality.

“Yes, I do,” I murmured, seeing disappointment lodge in his gaze.

“But he isn’t Hojo?” he prodded. This obviously meant a lot to him.

“No,” I answered. “He’s you.”

Sephiroth blinked in a startled way. Slowly, he dragged his eyes over me. “I never get what I want,” he protested faintly.

I giggled. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Sephiroth smiled hesitantly, as if he didn’t really know how to show pleasure, but satisfaction suffused his entire demeanor. His body relaxed and he shook his head in a little, humorous quirk. Eyes half-lidded, he slanted his body more toward mine. “How did we…?”

“How did we what?” I couldn’t help but devil him a little.

He licked his lips. “How did we link?” he asked. His eyes burned now, glowed with power. Fledgling desire stirred.

“Physically?” I poked at him yet again.

“Yes,” he answered, impatience tingeing his tone. He really wanted to hear from my lips our sexual history.

“We haven’t gone to a physical level yet,” I said, relenting. “You wanted to wait.”

Sephiroth’s face assumed disbelief. His nose scrunched as his eyebrows lowered. I’d never seen such a look on him and it took everything I had not to burst into laughter.

“I’m an idiot,” he announced. “I grew up and became as brainless as all adults.” He leveled an accusing look at me. “And you went along with that?”

“You’re the smartest man I know,” I protested in defense, starting to chuckle a little now. “I trust your judgment entirely. You had your reasons and I thought them sound even if they frustrated me.”

At this, Sephiroth heaved a very teenage sigh. “Then I have little choice but to obey my wiser self, I suppose,” he muttered. His eyes roamed me with greedy intent. “You don’t happen to recall our timeline?”

I bit my lip, brimming with humor but also starting to feel very warm. This open, adolescent Sephiroth with a mature body made resolve difficult. I felt like a pervert. But, the absurdity of the situation soothed me a little. I couldn’t be expected to keep up with his development, after all. “You didn’t specify, sorry,” I answered.

He tapped his fingers on his bent knee, seeming to consider. At this moment Hojo opened the kitchen door. “Lunch, dinner, whatever,” he broadcast in a tired and irritable voice. “Better get to it while it’s still hot enough to disguise how disgusting it is.”