Perfect as always.

Yes, my boy... you are just perfect.

You've come so far, have you not? I can remember your first day on the field like yesterday.

What a beautiful massacre, my boy. You turn destruction into an art.

Not that art is– he cackled– an endeavour I take any interest in.

We have all the samples we need. Now, you may get out of my sight.

Sephiroth had left the labs trying to block out the foolish cackle of Hojo ringing in his ears. Throughout the many years of his life, and the thousands of people he had come across– soldiers, civilians, scientists and more– there was not even one he could think of that he despised more than Professor Hojo.

A decade or so had passed since the day of his first battle. And so much had changed in that time. He could not visit a single settlement, whether it was a sprawling city like Midgar, or a hamlet lost in the mountains like Nibelheim, without spotting one of his posters plastered to some wall. They'd always have some proclamation ordering the subject to 'JOIN SOLDIER', Shinra's elite force only for the most endurable of humans. And there would either be some modified photo or a piece of artwork depicting Sephiroth, standing before heaps of troops, his elongated ōdachi– named the Masamune– held tight in his hand.

Around the world, people looked up to him. Children admired his strength as a so-called hero, men and women alike aspired to be like him and have their name become as notorious as his. And yet, Wutaians trembled in fear and anger at the utterance of his name, while enemies of Shinra would beg for mercy with tears in their eyes as he'd show them none.

He often questioned his labelling as a 'hero'.

And, even with all these admirers– he still was yet to have a single friend. Third and second-class soldiers were too intimidated to have any real conversation with him that went beyond 'you're an inspiration' or 'you're my childhood hero!'. While the few first-class soldiers in existence, that matched his rank but still fell far from his level of strength and skill, would seldom remain once the novelty of speaking to him, the Sephiroth, wore off. They had all placed him on a pedestal, upon which he was untouchable. Too pure, too powerful, too special to walk amongst the mere mortals that surrounded him. He'd almost gotten used to it.

He was feared. He was liked. But he was far from loved.

The halls were empty, save for someone he could hear walking not too far behind him. He'd already done much of his work for the day, scribbling through a myriad of reports and finally getting his latest lab check-up over with. Now he could go back to his little room atop the Shinra building, pick out one of his textbooks, and have some relaxing time to–

"Oh, hey! Hey, excuse me? Excuse me?"

... himself.

Sephiroth turned. Was this another recruit here to express how much they admired his violent, blood-splattered heroism? How they'd had posters of him pinned all over their bedroom walls as a child, and now, here he is, standing right before them.

He'd heard this many times and had concluded that most of it was superficial. Again, they'd like the idea of him, but never the actual him.

"What is it?" he turned around and was faced with a raven-haired man with spikey hair that draped down past his muscular shoulders. His face was young, perhaps a few years younger than Sephiroth himself, and his eyes were a deep blue colour– with that trademark glow associated with soldiers, which they'd get after being enhanced with mako. Most notable was the fact that he donned a dark-coloured uniform betraying the fact that he was not just any type of soldier– he was in first class.

"Well, I happen to have gotten promoted to first class recently– you could probably tell, I guess you've never really seen me around here before, heh."

Sephiroth's expression did not change, but some small part of him grew intrigued. He'd never really been addressed so... informally. It was either cold and professional, as most scientists were with him, fearful and formal, as most soldiers were, or admiring him from a safe distance the way civilians did. But this man was strangely... at ease. There was not a hint of fear, or even simple anxiety from him.

"But, ah– I thought to introduce myself to my future colleagues," he grinned, gave a genuine smile in his eyes, and held out his hand. "Name's Zack Fair! I already know yours, but I'm gonna ask it anyway. Who might you be?"

Sephiroth raised a brow.

"Are you not going to stand at attention?" he asked, not with unkind intent– though, he wasn't always aware of the rather intense weight his voice always carried, whether he wanted it to or not.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Zack's eyes widened with a small tinge of shock. And there it was, the smallest hint of fear. As he straightened his back and was about to stand at attention with the small hint of a blush on his cheeks, Sephiroth shook his head– he'd not intended for this, he'd just been slightly confused by how... friendly this man was.

"At ease. Why ask my name if you already know it?"

"W-well, uh–" Zack chuckled. "I just thought it would be polite, you know? You've probably grown up all these years with everyone knowing who you are, so I thought it might be a bit refreshing to be asked. It was probably a dumb idea, I'm sorry."

There was a short silence as Sephiroth regarded Zack with genuine curiosity. Granted, he could tell that his own face was difficult to read– Zack had squinted his eyes, tilting his head in slight anticipation as he was trying to figure out if he'd offended Sephiroth, or was going to be reprimanded, or if perhaps his attempt at reaching out had worked after all.

"Sephiroth. First class soldier. Pleased to meet you," he held out his own hand, almost hesitantly– he really was not used to this, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't nice. Or, as Zack had actually put it rather accurately– refreshing.

"Likewise! Are you busy this coming hour? I'm gonna be taking some friends out for lunch in a couple hours, wanna join us? I promise we're good company."

Sephiroth blinked. What a spontaneous offer. He was certainly in very unfamiliar waters with this Zack Fair. Despite his stoic expression suggesting otherwise, he did not find the raven-haired soldier to be annoying. Though he couldn't yet say that he outright liked him, he already had a better impression of the young man than he did of any of his other colleagues.

"I have other plans," he replied.

"Ooh, good ones?"

"Reading."

"That's a good plan!" Zack chuckled.

Sephiroth began to head towards the lift to go to the floor in which his room was located, separate from the common areas of the rest. And the entire way, Zack followed and kept talking to him. Though Sephiroth's responses were brief and reserved, he listened carefully to the friendly stranger as he babbled about books he'd read himself– mostly fictional ones, and he was shocked to learn that Sephiroth had never read a fictional work (Shinra had prohibited him from doing so as a child).

The conversation turned to Zack's friends. Or rather, friend– he'd apparently only wanted to invite a young infantryman he was very close with, when two relatively unknown ones had invited themselves along after a m. Sephiroth didn't understand why Zack wasn't blunt with them, instead letting them come along rather than correcting them on their assumption. The young man insisted doing so was 'mean'.

"So, uh– I thought you said you were going to read?" Zack said as they stopped before the door to Sephiroth's destination.

"I am," he replied. "This is my room."

"Oh," Zack went slightly red. "I thought– I thought we were going to the library or something! I didn't realise you wanted to be left alone."

Sephiroth remained silent for a few moments as his hand hovered over the door handle. He was very used to being cooped up in his room during his spare time. But it had grown monotonous a very long time ago. He'd never actually come across someone so outgoing, so unfettered with him and his status, so... genuine . He couldn't think of anyone who'd behaved so, not since Doctor Gast.

He sighed as he thought of the doctor, ignoring whatever melancholy he still held over him. The point was... never had he been treated so casually. In the eyes of everyone, he was either an untouchable war hero, or some special project, or the merciless end to one's fragile life. But, it seemed, Zack was not everyone. And Sephiroth appreciated that.

"I'll see you around, Sephiroth!" the newly promoted soldier offered a small wave as he turned and left, still cheery despite what he'd interpreted as rejection.

"Wait," Sephiroth turned from his door. Zack paused and grinned back at him, realising the man had warmed up to him more than he'd initially judged.

"If you wish to accompany me, we may go to the library."

Sephiroth went on to spend much more time with Zack than he had initially intended. Though he still wished not to accompany him with those infantrymen friends of his– he felt uncertain about spending precious time with people he did not know at all– Zack Fair himself was a pleasant presence. With how much he enjoyed speaking and expressing himself, how open he was, how little he let Sephiroth's fierce reputation lull his energy. He hoped he'd see him again soon, spend more time with him, and perhaps eventually, find friendship with someone worthy.

And, as it turned out, Zack was more than worthy.