Disclaimer: They aren't mine! Really! They're Square's. All these characters are Square's.
A/N: Rated PG-13 for some language and whatever's coming up in later chapters. Not very exciting or anything yet, but it will be. Promise!
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"Sephiroth!"
The silver-haired little boy, still rolled up in a cozy cocoon of blankets in his bed and barely awake, cringed at the sound of that awful voice. He heard the angry, determined footsteps clomping up the wooden stairs, and his name was called again.
"Sephiroth! Wake up!"
He quickly stuffed his face beneath his pillow when he caught a glimpse of that thick black hair at the top of the stairs. Squeezing his Mako-green eyes shut, he prayed with every last ounce of energy in his wiry body that that man would just stop calling him and go away. He didn't know of anyone specific to pray to, so he just begged whoever was listening to send him away, strike him dead with lightning, whatever they saw fit, just so long as he left him alone.
Hojo yanked the pillow away from Sephiroth and thrust his ugly face within inches of the boy's perfect little nose. "Get out of bed, you lazy child!" he barked, prying the blankets from the death-grip his son held on them. "Thanks to you, we're going to be late to the lab! Now get going!"
"So much for the prayer…" Sephiroth murmured.
"What was that?!" Hojo snapped, stepping back from the bed to allow the boy to get out of it.
"Nothing." Sephiroth stretched and rolled to the side, planting his bare--and now freezing--feet on the floor. He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.
"Quit your stalling, Sephiroth. I will be waiting for you downstairs. You have five minutes," Hojo commanded, placing great emphasis on the number. When the boy didn't respond, he reached down and clamped his hand under his chin, jerking his head up and forcing those green orbs to look into his muddy brown ones. "Did you hear me?"
Sephiroth stiffly bobbed his head, unable to respond fully because of Hojo's surprisingly strong grasp. Hojo sneered and let go, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the stairs. He paused at the top stair for a moment, his back to his son, before declaring, "You now have three minutes. Hurry, or I will see to it that you pay for your tardiness at the lab." His voice was cold, flat, and unfeeling.
Sephiroth was on his feet before the scientist disappeared downstairs. He knew Hojo meant what he said. The man spoke no threats; only gruesome promises when his demands weren't immediately met to the degree of perfection he expected. And going to that hellhole laboratory was unbearable enough as it was.
He hastily dressed, wriggling out of his flannel pajama bottoms and pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a black tank top. Moving to his dresser, he grabbed a comb and began running it through his shoulder-length silver hair, taking just enough time to tease the bangs that just brushed his cheekbones. Not that it mattered what he looked like. Everyone could have given a shit less about that.
Catching himself in mid-stroke staring vacantly at his hollow expression in the mirror, he slammed the comb back to the dresser and walked away. He was only 9, too young to express much in the way of vanity. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he could stare at himself in the mirror for long. The tortured face that gazed back at him scared him too much.
Sephiroth jammed his feet into his sneakers and tramped downstairs, where Hojo was already standing at the door, his arms folded across his narrow chest, his foot impatiently rattling against the floor. He said nothing as he stepped outside, more or less shoving Sephiroth out ahead of him.
Their house was on Midgar's upper plate, conveniently located mere blocks from Hojo's beloved laboratory. It was an old, Spartan thing, barely affording them the comforts one would normally associate with a house, the complete opposite of pretty much every other residence on the plate. It was sturdy. But it was also ugly. And neither of them spent much time in it.
They walked in silence, their footsteps inaudible amidst the cacophony of car engines, machinery, and chatty residents. A gritty gray haze choked the air, dulling the brilliant sunrise into a pale flush of dirty yellow light. Shinra Headquarters towered in the center of the industrial conglomerate, its hulk burying the smog-infested city in its threatening shadow.
Hojo strode through the milling throngs of early-morning workers and shoppers, his steps deliberately brisk. Sephiroth had fallen behind as soon as they'd started walking, but it was not out of any inability to keep up. He didn't like people following him; especially not Hojo. He didn't trust the wicked thoughts that he knew went through the scientist's brain whenever he fixed those beady eyes on him. And when Sephiroth couldn't return that gaze, who knows how psychotic his ideas got. No. He avoided walking ahead of him at all costs. Not far behind him, but not ahead of him.
(I should run away.) Sephiroth thought as he solemnly followed his father toward the HQ. (I should have run away a long time ago. I…I hate him. I don't have to do this. Why don't I run from him?)
"You know you wouldn't get very far." Hojo's voice somehow broke through the din and shattered the boy's musings. "I would send SOLDIERs after you. They would hunt you down like a rotten little rodent and bring you back to me. And I would make you dearly regret your stupidity."
Sephiroth growled and scuffed a pebble at the scientist. His growl became animalistic when the rock bounced off the back of Hojo's left shoe. (No wonder my prayer didn't work before. He's guarded by the devil himself.) He tried again. It hit his right shoe. (And how does he always do that? He knows whenever I'm thinking about him. He knows whenever I try and plan something. How?!)
"Don't bother wondering, Sephiroth." Hojo stopped, as they were now at Shinra's doors. "You wouldn't understand."
"Why?" Sephiroth queried, reluctantly raising his face to look at his father.
"Shut up," Hojo snapped. "Just go inside. We have work to do, and not enough time to do it, thanks to you."
The Mako-green eyes lingered on that wretched face a moment longer, bright with a sudden surge of youthful defiance. His lips parted, and he meant to declare that he wouldn't go any further, but he was quickly silenced by a sudden, burning slap from Hojo. "Go, damn it! I've had enough of your delays!"
His cheek now bearing a distinct, stinging red handprint, Sephiroth sullenly complied. He trudged through the sliding glass doors, his throat tight with tears he refused to shed and his heart knotted with the knowledge of what he was going to have to face.
Nearly every day of his young life he had come to this building, and it was always the same. Hojo entered the Shinra Building. But Sephiroth…didn't. No. He walked straight into hell.
A/N: Rated PG-13 for some language and whatever's coming up in later chapters. Not very exciting or anything yet, but it will be. Promise!
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"Sephiroth!"
The silver-haired little boy, still rolled up in a cozy cocoon of blankets in his bed and barely awake, cringed at the sound of that awful voice. He heard the angry, determined footsteps clomping up the wooden stairs, and his name was called again.
"Sephiroth! Wake up!"
He quickly stuffed his face beneath his pillow when he caught a glimpse of that thick black hair at the top of the stairs. Squeezing his Mako-green eyes shut, he prayed with every last ounce of energy in his wiry body that that man would just stop calling him and go away. He didn't know of anyone specific to pray to, so he just begged whoever was listening to send him away, strike him dead with lightning, whatever they saw fit, just so long as he left him alone.
Hojo yanked the pillow away from Sephiroth and thrust his ugly face within inches of the boy's perfect little nose. "Get out of bed, you lazy child!" he barked, prying the blankets from the death-grip his son held on them. "Thanks to you, we're going to be late to the lab! Now get going!"
"So much for the prayer…" Sephiroth murmured.
"What was that?!" Hojo snapped, stepping back from the bed to allow the boy to get out of it.
"Nothing." Sephiroth stretched and rolled to the side, planting his bare--and now freezing--feet on the floor. He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.
"Quit your stalling, Sephiroth. I will be waiting for you downstairs. You have five minutes," Hojo commanded, placing great emphasis on the number. When the boy didn't respond, he reached down and clamped his hand under his chin, jerking his head up and forcing those green orbs to look into his muddy brown ones. "Did you hear me?"
Sephiroth stiffly bobbed his head, unable to respond fully because of Hojo's surprisingly strong grasp. Hojo sneered and let go, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the stairs. He paused at the top stair for a moment, his back to his son, before declaring, "You now have three minutes. Hurry, or I will see to it that you pay for your tardiness at the lab." His voice was cold, flat, and unfeeling.
Sephiroth was on his feet before the scientist disappeared downstairs. He knew Hojo meant what he said. The man spoke no threats; only gruesome promises when his demands weren't immediately met to the degree of perfection he expected. And going to that hellhole laboratory was unbearable enough as it was.
He hastily dressed, wriggling out of his flannel pajama bottoms and pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a black tank top. Moving to his dresser, he grabbed a comb and began running it through his shoulder-length silver hair, taking just enough time to tease the bangs that just brushed his cheekbones. Not that it mattered what he looked like. Everyone could have given a shit less about that.
Catching himself in mid-stroke staring vacantly at his hollow expression in the mirror, he slammed the comb back to the dresser and walked away. He was only 9, too young to express much in the way of vanity. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he could stare at himself in the mirror for long. The tortured face that gazed back at him scared him too much.
Sephiroth jammed his feet into his sneakers and tramped downstairs, where Hojo was already standing at the door, his arms folded across his narrow chest, his foot impatiently rattling against the floor. He said nothing as he stepped outside, more or less shoving Sephiroth out ahead of him.
Their house was on Midgar's upper plate, conveniently located mere blocks from Hojo's beloved laboratory. It was an old, Spartan thing, barely affording them the comforts one would normally associate with a house, the complete opposite of pretty much every other residence on the plate. It was sturdy. But it was also ugly. And neither of them spent much time in it.
They walked in silence, their footsteps inaudible amidst the cacophony of car engines, machinery, and chatty residents. A gritty gray haze choked the air, dulling the brilliant sunrise into a pale flush of dirty yellow light. Shinra Headquarters towered in the center of the industrial conglomerate, its hulk burying the smog-infested city in its threatening shadow.
Hojo strode through the milling throngs of early-morning workers and shoppers, his steps deliberately brisk. Sephiroth had fallen behind as soon as they'd started walking, but it was not out of any inability to keep up. He didn't like people following him; especially not Hojo. He didn't trust the wicked thoughts that he knew went through the scientist's brain whenever he fixed those beady eyes on him. And when Sephiroth couldn't return that gaze, who knows how psychotic his ideas got. No. He avoided walking ahead of him at all costs. Not far behind him, but not ahead of him.
(I should run away.) Sephiroth thought as he solemnly followed his father toward the HQ. (I should have run away a long time ago. I…I hate him. I don't have to do this. Why don't I run from him?)
"You know you wouldn't get very far." Hojo's voice somehow broke through the din and shattered the boy's musings. "I would send SOLDIERs after you. They would hunt you down like a rotten little rodent and bring you back to me. And I would make you dearly regret your stupidity."
Sephiroth growled and scuffed a pebble at the scientist. His growl became animalistic when the rock bounced off the back of Hojo's left shoe. (No wonder my prayer didn't work before. He's guarded by the devil himself.) He tried again. It hit his right shoe. (And how does he always do that? He knows whenever I'm thinking about him. He knows whenever I try and plan something. How?!)
"Don't bother wondering, Sephiroth." Hojo stopped, as they were now at Shinra's doors. "You wouldn't understand."
"Why?" Sephiroth queried, reluctantly raising his face to look at his father.
"Shut up," Hojo snapped. "Just go inside. We have work to do, and not enough time to do it, thanks to you."
The Mako-green eyes lingered on that wretched face a moment longer, bright with a sudden surge of youthful defiance. His lips parted, and he meant to declare that he wouldn't go any further, but he was quickly silenced by a sudden, burning slap from Hojo. "Go, damn it! I've had enough of your delays!"
His cheek now bearing a distinct, stinging red handprint, Sephiroth sullenly complied. He trudged through the sliding glass doors, his throat tight with tears he refused to shed and his heart knotted with the knowledge of what he was going to have to face.
Nearly every day of his young life he had come to this building, and it was always the same. Hojo entered the Shinra Building. But Sephiroth…didn't. No. He walked straight into hell.