Dreams of the Soul
By: Zeng Li

The dizzying disorientation consumed his mind, shielding himself from awareness of the outside world. His body felt like it was being pitched side to side. A tangle of voices spoke unintelligibly to his ears, to the point they almost didn't sound like voices at all.

The hot sun baked above, searing the pain that he would otherwise have felt. His world was hollow. A man rocking on the ocean's waves under a yellow sky at noon. No land around, but the garbled voices coming from somewhere unseen.

One voice, out of many. He knew the voice. Why did it speak to him, and from where? There was not another soul for miles. But he knew that it meant he wasn't alone, despite his inner feelings.

The familiar voice drifted off, and he was alone again. Clouds drifted suddenly in front of the yellow sun and cast shade on his hot skin. It was a welcomed relief, though the fire on the left side of his chest still raged.

His world swayed again, the heat on his left side burning as though the sun focused but one strong beam on him. The gentle blue water turned gray. Smooth synchronized waves became small choppy peaks. There were no more voices. He was alone.

In the quiet, he wondered how he got there. How ever did he become adrift among an empty ocean beneath a changing sky?

If he knew how he got there, perhaps he could find his way out.

His heart beat strong. He could feel it in his chest, and he could hear the pounding of blood rush through his ears. It hissed with the cold ocean. The dim gray sun stared down at him, it's one strong ray still super-heating the side of his chest. Why was everything else so cold?

Hours. A long time adrift, alone on the ocean. Who would leave him here? Who did he know that might come to look for him? Who did he want most to see right now? If he could envision a face, perhaps it would draw that person to him.

The tiny waves rocked him side to side, and he was getting quite tired of the spacy feeling the motion put into his head. If he could reach up and take a hand...

He grasped at the sky, but nothing was there. The waves rocked him harder as if to say 'stop.' But he wouldn't let them toss him. If his hand could reach the hand of another, then he would be pulled from the cold water and taken ashore. The gray sun would stop mocking him, glaring back from behind the hazy clouds. Maybe it's heat would stop shining on only his chest.

He reached up higher, his arm a towering beacon above the flat ocean, calling to anyone within sight...groping the sky for another...reaching for a lifeline, but no one was there.

His arm grew tired, and he had to put it down.

The water against his back was not wet, but it was still cold. The gray sky parted to reveal the stars of night. The sun dimmed to a full, white moon, it's evil eye still burning his left side. The moonlight reflected off of the tips of tiny waves around him.

And he slept.

It was what the night was for, and something was prompting him to sleep right now, desperate as he was to be rescued from this peaceful hell.

The colors of the dawn were a sight to be seen. It was as though they'd woken him up just so they could share their beauty with human eyes. A lone star twinkled above, far more merciful than the yellow sun and hot moon had been to him.

He was like that star. Alone in the vastness of infinity.

He took a liking to that star. It called to him.

He smiled and reached a friendly hand up, touching the sky and the star. He had to reach it now, because once the evil sun rose again, it would drown out the light of the star.

He closed his hand over the star, trapping it in his fist.

"I found one," he said to himself. "Are you the hand I'm seeking?"

The star gave him strength as it's cosmic brilliance twinkled softly in his closed hand. It shared its power and granted salvation that was unattainable the day before. This was a hand, and it wasn't going to let him go.

"Tseng? Hey, Sleepy…" a soft voice was beside him.

Everything was black, and his senses enhanced.

His nerves shuddered as something touched his hand. It was a physical touch, unlike any he'd felt in the dreamy ocean.

"I am here with you," the voice said.

He opened his eyes, though they'd already felt like they were open. But they opened to sight...sight of the physical world. The dimmed surroundings blurred, his eyes too tired to focus right. Closing one eye helped him focus better, but the effort made them hurt. He caught sight of another man sitting beside him, holding his right hand.

He closed his tired eyes. "Reno..." he whispered. "I did not know you could speak so softly..."

Both of Reno's hands closed around his. "I didn't want to startle you, but I did want you to wake up."

"Where am I?" Tseng blinked, forcing his eyes to align and focus. The dim lighting was easy on them.

"Junon," Reno said plainly, giving Tseng a while to assess the room that they were in. "Your wound is gonna heal up just fine."

"Wound?" Tseng wondered, mentally taking note of the way each part of his body felt. Then it returned. The spot that he remembered the vicious sun beating on. Only now it seemed senseless to curse the sun that wasn't really there.

He moved his left arm and touched his side. The pain flared.

"Easy," Reno said to him. "You were in surgery for hours to close everything up."

Tseng's serene thoughts raced backwards in time. The star...the ocean...the yellow sun... His thoughts dead-ended, and he tried to break free, further into the past...to a time before he was drifting on imaginary water.

The backdrop split, slashed apart by a steel blade. In the darkness behind, he could see the silver sword. The long blade of the Masamune reached out of the shadows, rushing at him. He had only a second to step back. The swordsman came forth out of the shadows as the blade pierced his left side, clean through his chest and out the other side. His world went red before his eyes, the image of the silver-haired swordsman burned into the background.

"Tseng?"

He gasped, the crimson veil parting aside. "Sephiroth...!" the elder Turk hissed, crushing Reno's fingers in his clenched fist.

"Whoa! Okay, easy!" Reno pried his abused fingers out of the firm clutch. Tseng's hand relaxed.

"Why didn't he kill me?"

"Huh?" Reno looked down at his fallen leader. Tseng looked tortured at a time that he should be resting. Could he really have preferred death? Was it so bad lying in a hospital bed rather than a coffin? "Don't talk like that," Reno finally said. "There's no honor in dying by the blade of another when you don't have a blade of your own in hand."

Tseng was silent. He saw the blade of the Masamune, this time in slow motion. He was there again, reliving the past.

He stepped back as light beamed off of the blade out of the shadows. He took a step back, feeling the rough stone slide beneath his boot. Instinct was to draw his own sword and deflect the attack. His right hand wanted to reach to his left side to grasp his sword, but it hesitated. His fingers twitched.

There was no point. He didn't have a sword at his belt.

He had a gun, but the blade flashed out of the shadows before he could reach for it.

The steel pierced his ribs and kept on going. His eyes watched the steel slide deeper and deeper into his flesh. He looked up at the face of his killer...an honorable man whose skill with the sword was unmatched. The very blade that claimed so many lives in vain spared his.

Sephiroth paused as his thrust was complete. His blue eyes were steel but clear. Tseng regarded him, finding nothing more to say or do this time around either. What were those blue eyes saying to him?

"It's too easy," the eyes said. "You don't deserve it this way."

The blade withdrew, backing out the way it came. Tseng's right shoulder dropped, and his upper body slumped along with it. He looked up at the face of his killer. "Thank you," he thought he might have said through his own eyes, right before they shut and his body fell to the temple floor…before returning his consciousness to the present in which he was very much alive.

THE END

An original story based on characters from Final Fantasy VII © 1997 owned by Squaresoft Ltd. For free entertainment purposes only. Written by Zeng Li © 2002, editted 2006.