Author's note: One Character prompt # 02 - Reputation

Warnings: None

When he was a child, Sephiroth would sit in the lab and listen to Hojo rant about his reputation. It seemed to gall the scientist no end that others did not recognise his genius; that his work – at least that which was not highly classified – was not admired for his brilliance.

Sephiroth, who had never particularly liked Hojo, observed that maybe it was because Gast was the real genius, and Hojo was simply stumbling along in his footsteps. While the scientist's outraged response to this was gratifying, as he was reduced to practically frothing at the mouth, he decided that the momentary satisfaction was not worth it as the next month's tests were rearranged to 'explore his ability to heal himself'. It did confirm to the silver-haired boy that he was right; Hojo was a poor scientist at best, trying out wild ideas just to see what happened, and the fact that the scientist calmly observed and took notes while others inflicted broken bones and various injuries upon him didn't make it any less a petty revenge.

It seemed a useless preoccupation to Sephiroth to worry about what others thought of you. He didn't. He simply carried out the tests and training expected of him because that was his purpose, and what else was he to do?

It wasn't until his first mission that he began to understand it for himself. He had been excited, in a way – tests and training were one thing, but he wanted to know how his skills and strength stood up to real opponents and challenges, maybe more so than Hojo did. He wasn't sent out on his own, of course. He was heavily monitored, with a device clasped about his wrist tracking any changes to his vital signs. Another device recorded and transmitted all audio back to the command centre. And he was accompanied by a number of SOLDIERs.

That was another cause for excitement. He'd had little chance to observe them previously, but like him, they were altered by ShinRa's labs to better suit their purpose. And they had more real combat experience than he did. He wanted to see them in action, to see what he could learn.

He did discover that his hearing was probably more acute than most people believed, as he heard several of them complaining about being forced to 'baby-sit a snot-nosed brat.' While he was keen to observe the SOLDIERs, it seemed they certainly didn't feel the same way about him, and saw him as a potential problem.

It was understandable, Sephiroth told himself. ShinRa was big on keeping information to itself, so they likely hadn't been fully briefed on his own capabilities. But it didn't stop the flare of something – anger, perhaps? – that shot through him at their words.

He kept the questions he'd wanted to ask to himself, and focused on completing the mission to the best of his abilities. After all, they couldn't argue with the evidence of their own eyes, and he would prove that he did not need to be babysat by anyone.

Afterwards, he heard them muttering again. No longer was he referred to as a 'brat'. The term 'test-tube freak' was used instead. Sephiroth shrugged it off. Clearly it was useless to worry about what other people thought, as regardless what you did, you couldn't control it.

He continued to be sent on missions, sometimes alongside SOLDIERs, sometimes alone. The mutters changed over time. He heard himself described as 'uncanny', 'spooky', and even 'too damned quiet'. After one mission, a grizzled looking sergeant clapped him on the shoulder and told him in an approving tone of voice, "Good job." Sephiroth looked back at him wordlessly. He had simply carried out his orders, as always, and couldn't see why any further acknowledgement would be needed. Or why it should matter.

Then came Wutai. Now Sephiroth was making decisions, and it was far harder than he'd imagined, while at the same time being both a challenge and an intoxicating taste of freedom. He was expected to lead. He knew his interpersonal skills were not the highest, and wondered if this would prove a hindrance.

After several months he found he was being hailed as a 'tactical genius' and a 'great leader'. He wasn't quite sure how that had happened. As far as he knew, he'd simply done his job. He wasn't even sure if it was true, or if it was simply ShinRa's PR department hard at work.

But after the war he found it useful. It seemed he had become something of a popular hero, and that meant he wasn't simply disappearing back into the labs. No, he was more useful to ShinRa where they could point him out and wave him about as an example of all that was great about their company, as if his mere existence proved this. And there were new challenges for him, as he found himself dealing with administrative duties and that strangest of beasts, company politics.

Reputation was something everybody at ShinRa seemed exceedingly preoccupied with, from the President on down. The President was convinced that anything his company did was a reflection of his greatness, and he expected everybody to respect him accordingly. The first time Sephiroth heard him take credit for conquering Wutai, he simply blinked in astonishment. The man had never left Midgar during the entire war. But he didn't say anything. He had no interest in arguing about it, and arguing with the President was generally a useless exercise anyway.

His son, Rufus, was obsessed with proving his position wasn't simply nepotism. Scarlet defended her research vehemently while others mocked her for what she wore, Heidegger attacked every other department and executive with equal viciousness while talking up his own efforts, and of course, Hojo continued to lament his unrecognised genius.

In the end, he decided that a person's reputation was simply another tactical asset: it could be used for or against them, to achieve the desired result. The key lay in knowing the difference between reputation and fact. To Sephiroth, it all held an element of delusion. But people clung to it anyway.