~New blood joins this earth~

I remember I was lost, but I don't remember being afraid. Just curious. It was my first time outside of the lab, and I didn't see any reason to be scared. Everything was new and different. I wanted to know everything about everything I saw.

"Are you lost, little boy?"

I remember the woman very clearly. She was warm and friendly, smiling down at me. It was the first time in my life anyone had ever smiled at me. She had a great round face, and long brown hair tied back with a clip into one thick ponytail. She was wearing a long brown dress with very simple green embroidery around the edges, and an apron with lots of pockets. There was a basket around her arm, too, with flowers sticking out of it. But I didn't know the name for any of these things then; embroidery, flowers, smiles. I just thought she was the most amazing person I'd ever seen.

"What's that?"

She looked a little confused for a moment, then saw what I was pointing at. "This? This is a flower. I sell them. Would you like one?"

She held up one for me to look at. It had been a daisy, although I didn't know that back then. It was just one more new thing for me to discover, no more or less fascinating than anything else around me. I remember taking it, looking up and seeing that she had the same flower embroidered over and over around the neckline of her dress. I pointed that out to her. No particular reason, from what I can remember. I guess I just didn't see any reason not to say the first thing that popped into my head.

She didn't make me pay for the flower. I wonder why not? It's just as well, though. Back then, I wouldn't have understood what paying was.

She offered to help me find my mother. I didn't know what a mother was, either, but I took her hand anyway.

~...and quickly he's subdued~

"You there, get away from him!"

I can't remember the faces of the SOLDIERs, just outlines, like huge silhouettes towering over me. I can't remember the woman's face as she fell, either, but I can still hear her scream perfectly, and see her blood. A few drops splashed across my face. It made my nose itch where they landed.

One of the SOLDIERs grabbed my hand, the one holding the flower she'd given me. He crushed it without even realizing it was there.

~Through constant pain disgrace
the young boy learns their rules~

"You must never leave the lab, do you understand, Sephiroth?"

Hojo wasn't even looking at me as he spoke. He was looking at the needle he was getting ready for me. In all the time I've known him, I can't remember him even once meeting my eyes.

He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound like he was lecturing a misbehaved child. His voice was absolutely empty. He could have been talking to one of those recorders he always used during his experiments.

"And you must never speak to civilians. You're higher rank than they are. You're much more important than they are." He was almost sneering as he rolled up my sleeve and felt for a vein, the disgust clear in his voice. "Don't lower yourself to their level."

~With time the child draws in
this whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all his thoughts
the young man struggles on and on~

It was a long time before I realized that world, the world that held the smiling woman with the flower, was the one most children grew up in, not the cold white walls of the lab that formed the setting for most of my young existence. It was even longer before I realized that there was something wrong about that. I wasn't trained to make logical conclusions like that, after all, not when they didn't have to do with tactics and strategy.

Once I did come to that realization, though, I acted on it. That was what I'd been trained for, to make the correct decision and act on it, without wasting any time. In this case, acting meant escaping from Hojo's lab.

There was an unusually low level of security that night. It didn't bother me at the time, I just thought I'd gotten lucky. Looking back, however, I think perhaps Hojo had planned the whole thing from the start. He might have even arranged for that time, years before, when I wandered out of the lab as a child and met the flower lady, the woman who died simply for speaking to me.

Most of the guards on duty were easily avoided. The doors I tried were all unlocked. There were absolutely no obstacles to my escape until I reached the final door, the one that led out into the streets of Midgar.

I didn't think. I saw the door, I saw the man in my way, and I simply removed him. They call it 'snapping' the neck, but it didn't sound like a snap. Snap implies a clean break. This was a sickly, wet crunching sound. I could hear him hit the floor behind me, but I didn't stop to watch, just kept running through the door.

That had been the first time I'd killed. A sort of a graduation exercise, I think it was. I'd been trained for it often enough. First with stuffed dummies, as a child, then more and more extravagant targets, up to the highly detailed robots Hojo had designed specifically, the ones that fought back and screamed when you hit them. I was a little surprised the first time I heard one scream, and I didn't finish it off. Hojo had been very disappointed. Not mad. Not at me. Just disappointed. He muttered something into his recorder and made a note on his clipboard and went off to design another test. I didn't hesitate the next time I heard it scream. Hojo had been much happier with those results.

I'm not sure if I even realized that there was a difference between the robots I'd destroyed and the man I'd killed. His death had absolutely no effect on me.

~He's known
a vow unto his own
that never from this day
his will they'll take away~

It was in Midgar that I realized exactly how twisted my childhood had been. There were countless tiny details of life, things that most people take for granted, that I had no comprehension of whatsoever. Money, for one. That was somewhat of an issue. For months after I left Hojo, I was living on the streets. I didn't have the money to pay for a room at the inn. I didn't know what money was. What a job was. It had nothing to do with killing, and so had not been a part of my training.

Slowly, very slowly, I began to understand. Not easily. Perhaps, if I had been taken in by someone like that flower lady, it would have been easier. But living on the streets, most of the people I met were whores or junkies, or someone looking to take advantage of them. And they could hardly stand to be around me.

I'm glad I didn't meet someone like the flower lady, someone kind enough to take a poor boy in off the streets. I would never be able to forgive myself if I'd exposed someone like that to someone like me. I was a killer, pure and simple. It was what I was good at, the only thing I was good at. I did not understand that it was wrong to kill, to take human life and feel no remorse. I still don't, not in the way most people do. For eleven years of my life, I was taught only to kill. It's hard to just forget that. But I did understand that it was wrong not to feel remorse, not to feel grief, not to feel anything. And I realized that it would be best for everyone if I kept away from other people. So really, the streets were the best place for me at the time. Everyone there was like me, not suited for human society. But I couldn't be around the whores and the junkies, either. They were dull, jaded, but they weren't evil. They had done nothing to deserve being exposed to me. I kept away from them as much as possible.

There was one boy who offered me a room. There were a whole bunch of them, prostitutes, living in a one-room apartment above a weapons store. Most of the money they made went toward that apartment. He said I could stay with them. His offer seemed sincere. But even if it was, I couldn't take it. Especially if it was. He was a kind person. In gratitude, I refused, and made it a point to avoid him.

I made a vow to myself, during those months I spent on the streets, that I wouldn't kill. I might not be able to comprehend that it was wrong, but I could understand that the lack of comprehension in and of itself was wrong.

That didn't last. It quickly became clear to me that I could not survive on the streets for long. I was unwilling to deal the drugs that trapped others on the streets, equally unwilling to sell my body. I searched for the sort of jobs that normal people have, without success. I lacked basic skills, basic knowledge. And I frightened people. Without even saying anything, they could sense that I was a murderer. It was in my eyes, perhaps. They didn't glow, not yet, but the Mako injections had already had some slight, barely perceptible effect. One by one, I was turned away from every civilian shop in Midgar. And so, naturally, bitterly, I turned to the one job that I was perfectly suited for. I joined SOLDIER.

~What I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown~

I rose through the ranks. I fought. I was promoted. I fought. I was promoted again. And again. And again. I became their star general. I killed human beings, and they gave me medals. I didn't care. I didn't care about any of it. They thought I was a hero? I could hardly stand the sight of myself! Day by day, death by death, I learned to hate myself just a little bit more, and people around the world worshipped me for it.

They never saw just how much I loathed myself, never understood how completely and thoroughly evil I was. No one ever saw the scars on my wrists, because there were no scars. Not with the Mako pumping through my veins. I received more injections in SOLDIER than I ever had with Hojo. I'm surprised my blood didn't run green. But it didn't. It was red. I proved that to myself, without a doubt, each and every night. I watched the blood run down onto the floor and pool around my feet, and hoped that I would die before the wounds closed. But I never did. Before long, the gaping holes closed right before my eyes, skin knitting back together. It was an agonizing sensation. That near-instantaneous healing was more painful than the original wound, the result of days, or even months worth of healing being crammed into a few moments.

Then I'd go to sleep, and the next morning I'd wash the bloodstains out of my uniform before changing into a new one. I'd been wearing the standard SOLDIER uniform then. I forgot to wash the bloodstains away, once. When I returned to barracks that night, a new set of uniforms was waiting for me. Without any sleeves to get in the way of the wrists. All in black, to hide the bloodstains.

And then I'd go out to fight, or Shinra would parade me around like the prize showhorse I was, and the people would cheer, and the soldiers beneath me would cheer, and no one would ever guess that I was just waiting to get home that night and let cold steel open my veins. You would think, wouldn't you, that being in command of so many men--all the armies of Shinra, eventually--would give me a sense of purpose, of responsibility, tie me to life? No. Not at all. What were they to me? If they wanted to go off and kill and die, they were fools, and no concern of mine.

The war ended. Soldiers left. Soldiers joined. I watched my blood pool on the floor.

~Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been~

I was training one night, late, after midnight. I often did. The war was over; there was nothing left for me to do but train. That, and go on the little unimportant missions that Shinra found to keep SOLDIER occupied. I didn't care about those. If they didn't involve killing, they weren't suited for me. I would refuse them when I had the choice.

There were a group of trainees watching me, silent. I wasn't supposed to know they were there, so I pretended to ignore the hundreds of thousands of telltale signs giving away their presence, the least of which being their heartbeats and the sound of their breath. They didn't stay long. They stopped only for a few moments, while I worked through the forms of a simple kata. Then they continued on their way, talking quietly, in hushed tones at first. Then someone, almost nervously, murmured something in a dry tone, and the others burst out in laughter that was quickly stifled. I don't know whether they were sneaking out or in, nor did I care. I never once wished I could join them, could walk with someone, anyone, so casually and freely.
Even if I could find someone willing to be near me, I wouldn't want to contaminate them with my presence.

~What I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown~

"General Sephiroth, sir?"

Another late-night training session, but this time someone had broken away from the group, stayed to watch while the others went on ahead. I could hear his heart pounding as I lowered my sword.

"My name's Cloud Strife. I'm one of the trainees. I--I just wanted to tell you, I think you're amazing. I mean, you've been my hero since I was a kid. I mean--I don't know what I mean." He laughed then, nervously. "Geez... I sound like an idiot, don't I? You probably get this a lot..."

No. I didn't. No one spoke to me at all, except to give me orders. No one ever had. I was worshipped as a hero, but there was fear mixed into that as well. No one was brave enough to actually speak to the General. The flower lady. The boy on the street. And now Cloud. In all my life, they were the only people who ever spoke to me as if I was something vaguely resembling a human being.

"Hey, do you think... do you think I could train with you?" It was hardly more than a whisper, a hushed plea, not something he thought I could possibly agree to. I still don't know why I did.

And I don't know why I let him beat me. And I don't know why I let him kiss me.

That's not true. I do know. I still hadn't accepted it. All my life, Hojo kept me away from other people, and then I kept myself away from other people, and then Shinra kept me away from other people. But there was still some tiny, traitorous part of me that wanted to be like everyone else, to touch someone, to be touched... I still hadn't accepted that, because of who and what I was, I had no choice but to keep myself as far away from other people as possible.

So I know why I let him kiss me. But I also know why I didn't kiss him back, why I froze, why I brought my training sword to his throat and ordered him to yield, why I turned my back to him and walked away. Because I could never, ever show him that I'd felt something. If he thought even for a moment that there was some sort of connection between us, he would become as tainted as I was.

~Never free
Never me
So I dub thee unforgiven~

That tiny, traitorous part of myself had gained some small hold over me that night, and refused to let go. Much as I tried, I couldn't keep that trainee's face out of my dreams at night, couldn't help watching him move when I passed him during the day. And he saw me watching him. He confronted me, nearly a month later. Again, he kissed me. And this time I kissed him back. I couldn't help it. For a month he'd haunted my dreams, and I couldn't take it anymore. It was too much temptation. Here was someone right here, willing not only to be near me, but to touch me, to kiss me, to love me.

For one night, we stood together. We talked. Kissed. Touched. Tiny touches, perfectly casual or bordering on intimate. Either way, it was something I'd never felt before.

We fell asleep right there, in the middle of the training grounds. I woke up long before dawn, his head in my lap. I no longer needed as much sleep as normal humans; a few hours were more than sufficient. Quietly, I eased him to the ground, stood, and returned to my quarters.

I heard that some trainees found him lying there hours later, still asleep. He became the main subject of rumors for the rest of the week. I avoided the training grounds after that night, restricting my training to what could be done in my own quarters. I saw him several nights later. He tried to catch my eye, started to speak, so I returned to my quarters. After that, he stopped trying to seek me out. The few times we ran into each other, the look he cast me was filled with pain, the look of a man betrayed.

Only one night, and already my taint had spread to him. I fought that tiny, traitorous part of myself down and refused to listen to it again. This proved beyond all doubt that I could never be free, never be myself. I had to keep people away from me, always, or they would be the ones to pay the price. I've seen Cloud since, seen the pain on his face. He hasn't forgiven me, and I can't blame him for that. I should never have tried to get so close to him. I am truly sorry that I tried, but I know that I cannot be forgiven.

~They dedicate their lives
to running all of his
He tries to please them all
this bitter man he is~

Living at the SOLDIER compound was torture after that, a torture from which Jenova finally released me. But my life with her was the same as it had always been. Do as Hojo says. Do as Shinra says. Do as Jenova says. Is there any difference? Does it even matter? It's all I know how to do, all I've ever known how to do. I follow orders. I'm no hero. I'm not even a human being. I'm a killer, pure and simple, a tool in the hand of whoever happens to be my current wielder.

~Throughout his life the same
he's battled constantly
This fight he cannot win
a tired man they see no longer cares~

But through it all, I've been fighting. I've been trying to be more... what? More human? Isn't that why I ran away from Hojo? Isn't that why I let myself have that one night with Cloud, all those years ago? It goes completely against what they wanted from me, but I fought for it.

But it's not a fight I could ever win. I've been fighting against myself as well. They've got me programmed so well, such a good little robot, I'm doing all their work for them.

They've won. In the end, they've won, and I never even realized it until now. Hojo taught me to become evil. Midgar taught me that I was evil. Shinra taught me that I could never be anything but evil. Jenova taught me how to use that evil. Through it all, a part of me has realized how wrong this is, has been fighting against it, but I've been too thick to see it.

And now it's too late. There's nothing I can do.

~The old man then prepares
to die regretfully
That old man here is me~

I can see the betrayal, still fresh in Cloud's eyes. And he's got so much more to hate me for, now. Good. It's fitting that he should be the one to kill me. He, at least, saw me as a human being, however briefly. That's the way I want to die--as a human being, not as a mindless tool.

I'm sorry, Cloud.

~What I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown
Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been~

Can he tell? As he fights against me, as I stand here and let him rain blows down upon me, as I pray that, after all our battles, he will be strong enough to defeat me, can he see how sorry I am? Sorry that I hurt him, sorry that I ended whatever it was we had, sorry that we never got to find out what it was we had in the first place. I might have loved him. Maybe I do. I'm not sure. I've never known what love is. If wanting him to be the one to kill you is love, than I love him.

~What I've felt
what I've known
never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub thee unforgiven~

No. He can't see it. Of course not. After all I've done to him? I never let a hint of my feelings show, even to myself. My gods, to have even a taste of the freedom that he has! To catch a glimpse of that, I'll gladly give my life. But he can't see it. To him, I'm just an enemy, a hated enemy to be defeated. I should never have even hoped... It doesn't matter.

It wasn't me. All those years, all those countless injuries I've inflicted upon him... none of it was me, not really. But he can't know that. And even if he does, he'd never forgive me.

~You labeled me
I'll label you
So I dub thee unforgiven~

Hero. Villain. Human. Tool. In the end, what does it matter? I can feel my blood running down my skin in that familiar caress, and the only thing I care about now is the pain in his eyes. Not a hint of kindness, of caring, of understanding all the things I've only now realized. Not a trace of forgiveness. Of course. In the end, it's the only thing that matters to me, of course I can't have it. Of course I will die unforgiven.