A/N: Quick drabble. Written because I was inspired by my own drawing. Loser me.

Oh, and I never played Crisis Core. This scene is, like, my imagination. Never happened, those circumstances never arose. This said, please enjoy the fic! I'm aware I can do better... so please expect more in the future.

Sephiroth thought he knew his best friend. He thought he knew the proud, conceited man with auburn hair and green mako eyes. He thought he knew how the other Soldier worked, what he dreamt of, what he could or couldn't do. Even when all went mad. Even when all hell broke loose after... after Genesis' betrayal. Sephiroth thought he still knew the man, even though he'd been betrayed, tricked. He wanted to think that he knew why all of this happened.

After all, wasn't it all part of that childish dream of Genesis', to become a hero? To be appreciated by the Goddess. To outrun Sephiroth at least once, to win. Wasn't it all part of that? It had to be. And the General couldn't stop wondering if he could have prevented this from happening.

He thought he'd known Genesis. But now, looking upon the one-winged, auburn-haired angel, he didn't recognise his once best friend. And it was not because of the black wing protruding from the other's left shoulder, so alien, like it never belonged there. It was not the fact that said man was on his knees, defeated once again, for real this time, with no turning back. With Masamune's tip almost touching his long, pale neck, never to become the hero he'd always wanted to be... because Sephiroth had been ordered to kill.

He thought he'd known Genesis, but if that had been true, this man wasn't Genesis at all. Not because of the wing, not because of the helplessness.

Sephiroth took a step back. He sheathed his sword and turned his back to the kneeling man. Slowly, he retreated, ignoring the other's soft cry of his name. He couldn't fulfill his order, because the man he'd tracked down was not General Rhapsodos. Whoever he was... Sephiroth didn't care.

He was not Genesis. Because Genesis, the Genesis he knew, would have never cried, begging to be killed.