Pater Familias

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, voice actors.




Miss Sakura Leijanna apparently had a reputation. Just what that reputation entailed eluded me at present, but people either seemed to seek her out or avoid her like chocobo pox. Either way she seemed well known. During our short walk from the parking garage on Sixth Street we’d stopped nine times so someone could greet her.

I wasn’t used to being invisible when out in public, so this came as a rare and appreciated treat.

I waited a few minutes while she spoke to a waiter, observing how the other patrons of Thol’s Café eyed her. The men devoured her with their eyes while the women shot her glares. And she was indeed a woman who garnered attention for her physical beauty; I myself liked to look at her.

Perhaps she had some claim to fame other than her scientific endeavors and her beauty?

“I got us a table in the garden area,” she announced softly as she returned to my side.

“I wasn’t aware vegetation grew outdoors in Midgar,” I replied.

“It does here.” Sakura smiled.

The staff person led us through the packed dining area and out a rear door. In moments we stood in a brick-enclosed outdoor room. The scent of flowers filled the still air. High arches overhead dripped with white blossoms. A fountain and reflecting pool graced the corner to our left, a rock garden to our right. Only five tables stood here, and none were occupied.

The waiter seated us, left menus and departed.

Sakura closed her eyes a moment, inhaling the perfumed air. I resisted the urge to do the same, preferring to watch her. She sighed, picked up her menu and flipped it open. “Do you like seafood?” she asked.

“I’ll eat anything,” I answered. Food interested me so little. The real point of my excursion with Sakura was in the enjoyment of her company. Still, I hadn’t eaten decent seafood in quite awhile.

“May I suggest the steak and shrimp combination?” Sakura lifted her eyes to me.

I put the menu down. “I’ll trust your judgment,” I answered.

A soft breeze dipped down into the room, kicking up the white-flower scents. Sakura again closed her eyes, sighing.

She was beautiful. Her heart-shaped face housed full, sensuous lips, a straight and petite nose, and high cheekbones. The delicate arch of her high eyebrows accentuated her eyes even though they were currently closed. The breeze moved her long, thick hair, making a red fringe on her pale, poreless skin.

The waiter returned. Sakura gave him our order, accepted our sparkling water, and shot me a smile. “So,” she said as he left. “I’ve been dying to ask you something.”

“Ask away.” I couldn’t begin to imagine what she wanted to know. It could be anything from my work with the SOLDIER program to personal questions about Sephiroth.

“Thirty four years ago you wrote a brilliant paper for the Scientific Exploration Society on the relationship between refined sugar and poor health.” Sakura’s eager grey eyes seemed to widen as she spoke. “How exactly did you discover refined sugar increases advanced glycation end products?”

I blinked.

“Only by observing the way sugar molecules attach to proteins and cause damage,” I answered, amused that her question had entirely to do with one of my older projects. “Is this a question long in your mind?”

“Well, somewhat,” she said, toying with her water glass. “I suppose you’ve intuited that I’ve followed your career?”

“It occurred to me,” I answered. “It’s unusual to find such a young scientist interested in my career.”

Sakura frowned. “Why would that be?”

I hesitated. “My best guess is that science is ever marching onward and that dinosaurs are only related to in the fossil stage.”

Sakura seemed to bristle. Her fingers curled over her napkin and her eyes flashed. “I hope you aren’t referring to yourself as a dinosaur,’ she said.

“I’m old enough to be your great grandfather, Sakura,” I replied. “My mental processes are by no means sluggish, but I do not have the vigor I once boasted. Entropy has a way of slowing science.”

“Many things are better with time.” Sakura almost seemed to smile, but her eyes remained neutral. “I’ve waited nearly my entire life to meet you, Professor Kanaye Hojo.”

Surprised, I stared into her. I could think of nothing to say to this. I’d had my share of people trying to ride my coattails to the top, a handful of women clinging to my position of power, but never had I heard a simple confession of just wishing to meet me. People avoided me, and with good reason.

Sakura had bought a position on Adjudicator Laelin’s staff just for the opportunity of attending Havars’ trial. She’d introduced me to some stimulating research of her own without pressing me about it. She’d gladly agreed to assist me and the court in the regulation of Havars’ punishment. Now, we sat here in a pleasant garden, awaiting food she intended to pay for. The main topic of the afternoon seemed to be me.

“Well, you’ve more than met me, Miss Sakura Leijanna,” I replied at long last, addressing her in the same way she’d addressed me. “You’ll work with me now, if in a limited application.”

“A fact that delights me,” she confessed.

Our food came. The smell of well-prepared surf and turf made my stomach growl.

We began to eat in nearly comfortable silence.

“You’re left-handed,” Sakura observed. “So is your son.”

“He inherited the LRRTM1 gene from me,” I replied, smiling. “But, you are also left-handed, Sakura.”

“Not naturally.” Sakura lifted her right hand and stared at it a moment. “I broke this hand when I was seven, crushed it, actually. For the next year I was forced to be a lefty. It stuck.”

“How did you crush your entire hand?”

“I fell from a high window onto a very busy street. A tractor trailer ran over my hand while I lay unconscious.” Sakura shrugged. “My first meeting with Havars came after that. He gave me mako to treat my injuries.”

I gripped my fork hard. “He gave you mako injections to heal established wounds?” That was foolhardy. Even I wouldn’t have done that, and I’d been batshit insane.

“Yes.” Sakura shrugged. “My parents thought a lot of Lucas Havars. I should be thankful they donated a lot of money to him; if I’d been the child of a poor family I’d have ended up in his labs, wouldn’t I?”

I didn’t need to answer that. We both knew the truth of her statement. I looked into her eyes. “I see no glow of mako in your irises,” I said.

“I only received five treatments.” Sakura smiled. “Thanks to your research everyone knows it takes ten low-dose exposures or injections to affect the eyes.”

I calculated. Five doses of mako at such a young age would have enhanced her strength but not much else. “Have you considered completing the treatments?” I asked, thinking of her hard blows to Lucas Havars. With mako in the equation I could easily see why the bruises she’d made wouldn’t fade immediately.

“Not really,” she answered. “Do you think I should?”

“I would have to do a physical to see if you are even able to receive the mako in adulthood,” I said, thinking about it. “If you’d never had it I would say no.”

“But my childhood exposure is a factor,” Sakura said, picking up my train of thought. “No one ever speaks of why full adults aren’t treated with mako.”

“Because you usually end up with physical mutations,” I said, answering her unspoken question. “I accidentally fell into a mako fountain at about the age of nine. It prepared me for later mako, but because I’d had such a gap in my exposure I developed certain…anomalies.”

Sakura listened to me attentively as I lectured on my findings, seeming to forget the food sitting in front of her. She watched my every move, her eyes reflecting both understanding and great interest. I both shied away from such attentiveness and drew toward it.

Never had I felt such consideration, such focus.

Sakura moved mechanically toward her meal, casually stabbing into her steak and shrimp by turns.

I finished and fell silent, interested in her next movement.

For a very, very long time we ate in silence. Sakura set her empty plate aside. Her long fingers weaved together and clenched. “You’ve had an intense and focused life, Hojo,” she said at long last. “I can’t think of anyone who would have an even remotely similar passing of years.” She drank deeply of her water.

“Perhaps,” I answered cautiously. “But the discord is entirely of my own making, Sakura.”

“Isn’t it always of our own making?” she posed, looking thoughtful.

“It is arguable,” I answered.

Sakura laughed softly. “Don’t bullshit me, Hojo,” she said. “You had help. There were factors other than yourself that made you who you are.” She crooked her finger at the waiter, who came and took out plates away in an instant. “Same as for everyone,” she went on. “It’s amazing to me you accomplished what you did, considering the facts the trial revealed.”

“My schizophrenia,” I surmised. “Yes, thankfully I no longer have that to deal with.”

“Did you know there’s a correlation between left-handedness and schizophrenia?” she asked.

“I hadn’t explored it, no,” I answered.

“Well, I suppose it hardly signifies.” Sakura drained her water glass. “Back to the lab or do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“The lab.” I felt full and sleepy now but I would grow more alert in an hour or two. I hadn’t eaten red meat in… awhile. Actually, I hadn’t had a full meal since moving to the new apartment.

A beeping noise issued from Sakura’s coat pocket. Frowning, she fished out a beeper and looked at the number while throwing fifty gil on the table for our meal. “Goddamn it,” she swore, her voice more of a growl than anything else. “Do you mind if we take a detour?”

“No.” I felt entirely comfortable keeping to an informal schedule on a Saturday.

“Wonderful,” she said, silencing her beeper. “I have a personal matter to clear up.”

“Anything too terribly upsetting?” I asked, rising to slide her chair out.

“Nothing I shouldn’t have anticipated,” she answered, her brows still set in that elegant frown. “If only life reflected the order of a lab.”

Amused, I followed her out of the café and down the street, watching her shapely bottom sway in time with her steps. But I eventually had to meet her pace. Easily, I caught up with her and walked in time. “Life and laboratories often showcase the same chaos,” I said, striking up where we’d left off.

As if on cue, my cell rang. I answered it while we waited for the crosswalk light to turn in our favor. “Yes?”

“Father,” Sephiroth’s baritone rumbled into my ear.

That new title still gave me a thrill. My only child admitted to his parentage, embraced me as his sire. Never had I thought that would happen.

“Yes, son?” I asked, taking Sakura’s shoulder and guiding her across the street politely.

“You listed me as a contact number in case you could not be reached yourself,” Sephiroth continued. “I’m happy to tell you you’ve won the Midgar Money-Pot. The representative just called here.”

I heard Aerith making happy noises in the background. Her high-pitched but sweet voice caused a stir of affection in me.

“The Money-Pot?” I asked, trying to think. “Oh, yes, I entered that four months ago.” Had I really put Sephiroth down as my emergency contact number? Well, even while still a crazy man I supposed I acknowledged him as blood.

Sephiroth chuckled. “Daddy,” he said, lightly chiding. “You can’t even keep up with your gambling?”

“Cut the crap, tell me how much I’ve won,” I answered, smiling. Sakura and I approached her car now, a sleek, black machine made for smooth roads and a lack of law enforcement.

Sephiroth paused. “Four hundred and seventy two million gil,” he said.

I froze, my hand on the passenger door latch. “What?”

“Four hundred and seventy two million gil,” Sephiroth repeated. “The officials will be at your apartment bright and early tomorrow morning at nine.”

“That’s more than the quarterly profits of Shin-Ra’s science department,” I said, finally getting the handle of the car to turn.

“Mmm,” Sephiroth said neutrally. “I suggest you hide, wherever you are. Likely, your name is already all over the television, the papers, and the gossip mill.”

“Give me the phone number, and right now,” I said. “I need to make sure the balance goes to you if I kick off.”

“Ready?” he asked.

“Go.” I didn’t need pen and paper. I could remember a thirty number string for days.

“One, seven hundred, eight nine seven, four five four five,” Sephiroth recited.

“Fine, fine,” I said. “Thank you, Sephiroth.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure, father,” his rich voice intoned. “I suppose you’ll see fit to throw some of your wealth to us peasants?”

“You’ve never cared about gil and you know it.” I seated myself and strapped in. “But yes, I suppose I could see fit to throw some flow your way.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to see you blow it on coke,” Sephiroth replied. “Or is that, ‘blow it on blow?’ Bye.”

Click.

The nerve of that boy. He knew I only used cocaine a few times a month. I snapped my phone shut and stowed it. Holy Ifrit. I could do a lot with that much gil.

“What?” Sakura asked, taking us out into traffic.

“I won the lottery,” I explained, smoothing my hair back. I dialed the confirmation number, got a recording and entered my national identity number. The automated voice thanked me for playing Midgar Money-Pot, informed me of my winnings and instructed me to call back early the next day.

“Oh, good,” Sakura said. “You can set up your own lab now I guess.” She steered us around an ambulance, not looking the least bit impressed.

Suddenly, I liked her all the more. Seeing as she came from a rich family, she wouldn’t care one whit what I’d gained financially. Not a gold-digger, Miss Leijanna.

“Maybe,” I said. “Sephiroth has asked Eldon Garchae to accept a solar energy proposal from a man named Warburton. I’ll likely sink a good bit into that.”

“It’s a good place to explore the disposal of revenue,” Sakura replied, thrusting her arm out the window so she could give the finger to a man who tried to cut us off at the intersection. “Solar energy is the only non-polluting energy source we have, currently.” She steered around a sharp turn and hit the gas. “Even wind and water turbines are tricky; windmills kill a lot of avian life forms and watermills aren’t very reliable from season to season.”

“Bluntly,” I said, “are you flush, Miss Sakura?”

Looking startled, Sakura steered us around a crew cleaning up after a building collapse. “Not anymore,” she admitted. “My parents cut me off four years ago. I’ve been disinherited.” She reached into a middle compartment of the car and pulled out a pack of Gold Filter Pleasure cigarettes. “Smoke?”

I accepted one and pushed the lighter in. I hadn’t enjoyed a good smoke in weeks.
“If it isn’t too personal,” I said, my eyes on the plug, “what induced your parents to disinherit you?”

“Nothing much,” she said vaguely. “They don’t think the way I do. I never cared for them anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I’d rather make my own fortune.” She slowed to throw five gil into the toll basket we’d approached, gunning the motor as she idled. “I’m not interested in cosmetic surgery or modeling.”

“Your parents have varied fields,” I murmured.

“Oh yeah,” she said, laughing a little. “One feeds the other.”

I heard the censure in her tone. “Expand upon that,” I said.

Sakura shrugged. She took up the interstate ramp with all due alacrity. “Mom wasn’t good enough so dad made sure she was,” she said.

I looked at the perfection of her form, wondering if the daughter looked so good, how could the mother be so imperfect? “Your mother looks like you?” I asked.

“A good deal,” she admitted. “She’s got bigger boobs and smaller hips.” Sakura revved the motor of the car, peering in the rearview mirror. “But do liposuction, take a rib and add some silicone and you have me.” She paused to light her own cigarette. “She’s a bimbo,” she said, blowing smoke out the window. “I think she’s had sex with every agent in the field. Dad doesn’t care of course; it makes him richer.” Her eyes hardened suddenly as she focused on the road. “I guess it makes him hit her with less force.”

I thought back to my own childhood, shuddering involuntarily. “You must know you look…fine, Sakura,” I said.

“Whatever.” Sakura steered us around a slow moving dump truck. “My appearance doesn’t make a fuck to me, really. I dress as well as I can, stay as fit as I can manage and leave it at that.” She hit the gas again, taking us past two cars. “I’m not building my life or my career around my body; that’s for people who are too stupid or too lazy to do anything else.”

In silence we drove. I contented myself with the scenery, listening to the radio. Sakura tuned the station to classical and hummed along, apparently not taking the subject matter to heart. This told me more about her feelings than anything else. She’d long ago surpassed her parent’s view on life and adopted her own philosophies.

I had done exactly the same. Still, she was fifteen years ahead of schedule. She had a lot of resolve and a lot of independence for a twenty two year old.

In a few minutes we pulled into an upper lower class housing development. Sakura parked in front of a not-quite-gone-to-seed apartment building and killed the motor. She drew a deep breath. “You can come with me or stay here,” she said quietly, her light eyes scanning the face of the building. “This shouldn’t take me very long; all I have to do is eject an idiot.”

Ah. She had a person for a problem. I would go with her, then. I released the catch on my seatbelt. “I’ll accompany you,” I said, determined to go.

“Okay.” Sakura climbed out. We approached the building. A matronly looking woman of about fifty years of age met us just at the main door, wringing her hands and fixing her eyes upon Sakura as if she could solve the world’s problems.

“Thank Shiva,” the woman said fervently. “Miss Leijanna, I don’t know how he got the key, but-.”

“It’s fine, Hilda,” Sakura said, patting her shoulder on the way by. “He’ll be gone soon one way or another.”

We took the stairs. I heard our steps echoing off the concrete walls.

“Look,” Sakura said as we passed the third floor door and went on toward the fourth. “I don’t know what John will do or say, but don’t take anything he says seriously, alright?”

“Very well,” I agreed amiably, resolved to reserve judgment until the moment came for a decision.

Sakura clenched her skirt hard, her knuckles standing out white. She said nothing else.

We took the fifth floor door and stepped into a long, white hallway. Sakura lead me down it, rattling her key ring as she picked out a specific deadbolt key. “I hate this,” she muttered, pausing outside of door 521. The slab of metal moved to her touch without the key.

She opened the door. I stood back to view complete devastation.

What had once been a respectable, if scantily furnished apartment, stood in ruins. Papers, books, clothes and furniture lay scattered toward the middle of the main room. A threadbare couch sat against the right hand wall, the stuffing spilling out from great gashes and slashes. A telephone lay on the floor, emitting a jangly dial tone due to the headset lying a good distance away.

Sakura stifled a cry of outrage, but I heard it. She was angry.

“Jonathan Templeton Andrews,” she shouted. “Get your ass front and center and get out of my apartment!”

A man my height and about twenty five years of age strolled out of a back room, a knife in hand. He dropped it. “Hey, Sakura,” he greeted, his lips and eyes equally unmoving.

“Don’t even speak to me,” Sakura demanded, pointing toward the door. “Get out.”

“Why?” Andrews propped his hip on an empty bookshelf, the very picture of arrogance. “I live here too.”

I recognized his type. He was a pretty boy, with money and conceit to spare. But, he had good musculature, decent teeth and looked healthy. I wondered about his blood type. I hadn’t a fresh lab specimen in quite awhile…

“You haven’t lived here in two months,” Sakura protested.

“Only because you threw me over!” Mr. Andrews didn’t move from the spot. His eyes took me in slowly. I saw those blue eyes widen. “Holy fucking Bahomet,” he swore. “You actually did it.” He stomped over to me, thrusting his thin face up into mine.

We measured each other. I estimated the youth had thirty pounds of muscle on me, but I was still stronger. In fact, if it came to it I could rip him apart with my bare hands. I didn’t need to transform to do it, either.

“Don’t be stupid as well as fucking insane,” Sakura said, opening the door wide. “Just get the hell out.”

“No.” Mr. Andrews walked toward her. “I can’t believe you went out and got this guy,” he said, waving his hand in my direction. “You wouldn’t screw me but you’ll go get the psycho of Shin-Ra for bedtime aerobics?”

How rude. I fingered the plastic case in my pocket, mentally going over the contents.

“The Professor and I were out at lunch, not that it’s any of your business,” Sakura said, her face turning pink with blood and indignation. “You broke up with me, remember?”

“To teach you a lesson,” Andrews spluttered. “I thought if I showed you how you’d miss me, you’d finally give me a piece! But no, instead you go out and get this Mojo guy, or whatever the fuck his name is!”

“Hojo,” I corrected. “Professor Hojo, of Shin-Ra Corporation.” I slid back the lid on the case, running my index finger over the various tubes. “And your elder, so watch your mouth, brat.”

“Professor, I’m sorry,” Sakura hurried to apologize for this imbecile.

“You have nothing to express regret over, Sakura,” I murmured, finding the appropriate item in my pocket. “It isn’t your place to take responsibility for an ex-anything; believe me, I know.” I palmed the piece of metal, my warmth and electrical field activating the device. “Why don’t you pack what few belonging Mr. Andrews has left unscathed and I’ll speak to him?”

Sakura nodded. Just as she walked past her old boyfriend, he reached out to grab her arm. She hissed in pain as he gave her a shake.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” he demanded.

Taking a trick from my son, I scruffed Andrews by the back of his neck and slid the metal under his skin at the same time. The tracker bot burrowed down without making a large hole, making a person think they had a bug bite or an equally trivial reason their neck itched. As I hauled him backward, he thrashed.

“Hey! Let go of me you old coot!”

“This old coot is capable of doing more than simply holding you,” I informed him, nodding to Sakura. “Sakura, take your time.”

Flushing with embarrassment, Sakura obeyed my earlier directive, heading for the room Andrews had vacated upon our entry to the apartment. I hauled him over to the ruined couch and forced him down, seeing his look of shock at my strength.

If I could wrestle mako-engineered lab specimens, I could damn sure take care of a know-nothing punk…

“Been working out, grandpa?” Andrews asked with sarcasm, rubbing his neck.

I leaned down, putting my face very close to his. “You’re a barking, destructive puppy,” I told him, “chewing on things that don’t belong to you and shitting where you shouldn’t.”

“Get away from me,” he said, shoving at my shoulder. When the contact didn’t move my body, he favored me with an appraising look. “What the fuck, grand-dad? You made out of concrete?”

“No, snips and snails and puppy dog tails,” I answered. “And I need a few more puppy tails.” I couldn’t afford to get mad or stressed over this disrespectful boy; I might become a monster and really trash the place…

Andrews blinked. “What?”

“Never mind,” I responded smoothly. “I should have known a Neanderthal wouldn’t catch a cultural reference, much less apply it.”

He tried to get up again. I shoved him back down. “Sit, puppy. Don’t make me swat you with a newspaper.”

Sakura emerged, a small satchel and a purse slung over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed upon Andrews. “You broke my cobalt vase,” she accused.

Andrews shrugged. “You broke my heart,” he replied.

I rolled my eyes. “Drama,” I said, “and untruthful drama, at that.”

Sakura met my eyes. “I’m ready,” she said, rubbing her arm. “I can’t look at him anymore.”

Well, I could make it so she never had to look at him again.

“We’re leaving now, Mr. Andrews,” I said. “Be a good boy and stay.”

To my surprise, he remained still when I let go of him. “Good boy,” I said, ruffling his hair. Snarling, Andrews took a swing at me. I avoided him nimbly. “Bad puppy.”

Sakura and I walked out. The door slammed behind us loudly. “He makes me so mad,” she said, clutching her meager belongings to her ample chest. “He tore up my clothes too.”

“Did he?” I wondered if that might possibly connected to how he letched over her. I wouldn’t mind seeing her naked either. “Sakura, where do you wish to stay?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I have a credit card so I suppose I can stay in any hotel,” she answered.

An offer to stay with me lay on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. I didn’t want to push or start anything I couldn’t stick with. And, she remained a twenty two year old woman. Doubtless her energy and habits would cause friction in my newly-controlled environment.

“How do you feel about Shin-Ra housing?” I asked, opening her car door so she could throw her bag inside. I neatly plucked her keys away as she tossed her belongings to the floorboards. “And, I’m driving; you’re a little too upset right now to navigate high traffic, I think.”

Sakura’s uncomplaining form slid into the passenger side. “The gas sticks sometimes,” she informed. “And I have no objection to Shin-Ra housing. Any place is good when you’ve abandoned home.”