#Or if hojo was too tired to do the injections himself

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay but why haven't we had a time travel/fix it fic where after some shenanigans everyone decides to take down shinra, they split up to take out the important figures, sephiroth obviously takes hojo for any and all of a dozen good reasons.

And then hojo pulls a winter soldier sleeper code on him.

And then everyone is suddenly dealing with a brainwashed sephiroth.

-

Hojo has to have some way to control sephiroth as he grew into his monstrous strength and power, yes? And learned helplessness isn't enough of a reassurance your prized military leader powerhouse isn't going to wake up one day and realise just how easily he could paint the labs walls red with chunks of you. And because hojo is obsessed with total power and control, dealing with a murder machine with huge mental issues, it'd only be fitting he create his own emergency shutdown.

In the most needlessly traumatic and mentally violating way, of course. Would sephiroth even know, if he couldn't remember? Would he have long stretches of emptiness in his memories that never get explained to him, or would he wake up where he'd blacked out, just another day in the labs?

Imagine, his allies watching on the cameras, as sephiroth stalks into the labs, a predator sighting its prey, exchanging a few cold words with hojo, raising masamune... And then hojos mouth opening, sephiroth going stiff like an animatronic, rearranging himself on the floor where he stood, face hidden behind his hair. Hojo leaves the room and he doesn't move, doesn't respond to any comms or passing scientists accidentally rolling a cart over his coat and hair.

Hojo ordering sephiroth to reveal their plans, their allies, their resources. Sephiroth doing it. Hojo deciding to punish sephiroth for the rebellion with lab procedures, or hojo ordering him to hunt down his co conspirators and end the takeover. Sephiroth doing so, heavy in his steps, crashing through walls and doors, heedless now of morals or civilians, silent, unresponsive. So completely unlike the jenova malice they'd been prepared to fight, that sephiroth had been bracing against. No arrogance, no mocking, no dramatic battlefield or hungry glowing eyes.

The puppeteer becomes the puppet, and with it, every trace of holding back. The perfect soldier.

I imagine the first trigger word would be lucrecia.

[ghostofnibelheim]

azure-steel​:

It had all happened so fast, so fast that his head was still reeling, so fast that he could still feel the inferno of Nibelheim torching his skin, could still see the smoke rising and filling his lungs. A blanket against the sky, blocking out the sun, choking the life out of everything.

Everything around him was dying.

The world was tilting, everything Cloud ever knew and loved was crashing into the corners of reality itself, and even as he came to in the midst of the chaos, he is unable to determine the screams he could hear in the near distance were actually his own.

Even as he makes his way to the reactor, as he’s brandishing that broadsword, even as he plunges it into the yielding flesh of the man who’d taken everything from him in this unfathomable moment of sheer madness, there was no power to be salvaged when staring into the shimmering face of grief.

“How could you?! I worshipped you! How could you do this?! Sephiroth!!”

How is Cloud hoping to reason with this lunatic, did he honestly believe he’d be garnered any answers?

“You’ve taken everything! My home! My mother! Give them back!!”

Holding fast against the hilt of Zack’s blade does he demand knowledge, of which he knows he’ll never truly be granted. All he knows for certain is that it hurts, and that agony birthed from crippling loss and white-hot unadulterated rage, it was all he knew; in this moment there was nothing else.

Nothing but anger.

“Give them back to me, you bastard!!”

Cloud would attempt to twist that blade now protruding through Sephiroth’s gut, but again time gets away from him and already is he skewered along the formidable edge of the Masamune. The pain is enough to have him cry out; hot, unbearable, fracturing. And he’s laying there so suddenly on his back, the buster sword so far out of reach though Cloud still attempts to make a grab for it, feebly as the strength slowly drains from his body. All the man had to do was lift and he’d cleave Cloud in half, though it seems the wound inflicted upon the former war hero is taking it’s toll. So visibly does Sephiroth falter in that moment, unable to  even lift Cloud’s slighter frame and dropping the prize he’s retrieved from the bowels of the reactor.

He’s so cold now, so very cold, hands grasping the steel of Sephiroth’s blade sunk into his belly, and he shivers against the hard freezing reactor floor, watching with an air of glee as Sephiroth collapses next to him. Cloud is struggling to breath, slowly drowning in the blood rising into his throat as it puffles out of his mouth in hot slimy bubbles, but he’s determined not to die before that bastard. He wants to watch as the life drains out of his eyes, wants to see him suffering as he was.

Even as the darkness creeps in around the edges of his eyes, he will not die before him, but he’s so tired.

He’s so tired…

Fighting the black, all consuming, it was a battle Cloud lost so very quickly.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore.

“- here soon.”

“We’re almost done-”

Muffled noises rang in his ears, slowly stirring his senses. Broken shreds of conversations.

“-all the bodies. He said we should take his too.”

“No. He’s not dead, and we still need him to-”

Who was speaking…? He tried to open his eyes, but a blinding light forced them shut. Weakly, he moved his head away in avoidance.

“But the President-”

“You can tell the President, I said so.” A sinister, more familiar voice reached him, sharpening his senses into alert. His body jolted.

“Professor? H-He’s waking up…!”

“Hmmmm? What, oh, you stitched him up?”

“It was to stop the bleeding…”

“…Alright, well. Don’t overdo it.” The familiar voice was just above him now. A shadow cast before him, shielding him from the blinding light. “If he recovers too much, there’s no stopping him. Stick to the bare minimum treatment, for the harvest to stay fresh. Heeheeheehee…”

That laugh. Sephiroth’s eyes opened, quickly. Squinting at the pale face who observed him behind round, glinting glasses.

“Hojo…?”

“Rise and shine, my boy.” The doctor leered down at him. “Congratulations on your early retirement. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to skip on the farewell party.”

He hated to be called that way. The man always had, ever since his childhood. It hadn’t stopped Sephiroth from growing up with a sheer spite for the researcher.

The SOLDIER tried to rise, at least move away. But he couldn’t. His body wasn’t responding. Everything down the neckline was paralyzed. He could sense his torso was bare, but he could do little more than just wander with his eyes. His mouth still tasted like blood. “What…?”

“Such a shame you won’t be able to enjoy your pension. I heard it’s pretty high.” Hojo had moved to a station of surgery tools beside him. Sephiroth finally recognized the room… it was the underground laboratory underneath Shinra Manor.

When he didn’t respond, Hojo flicked him an entertained look, preparing a syringe with great care.

“Fallen in action, they said.” He continued, seemingly amused by the subject enough to explain unprompted. “You should be happy. Your moment of stardom has ended in a flash. You’ll still be a hero, to the eyes of many.”

Now he was starting to remember. The fog in his mind was clearing, if only in part. Genesis’ words. All his studying, in this very room. He had uncovered the truth. He was no hero…

He was the chosen one.

“…Where is my Mother….?”

“Yes, I saw what you did back in there. But rest assured, Sephiroth: your mother is dead, just as I told you.”

“…No. No, you lied to me. I am….”

“We’re monsters.” Genesis’ voice reverberated in his mind.

“I am Cetra.”

“My boy, my boy….!” Hojo singsonged, returning by his side. His head shook as he addressed him in a condescending manner. “You are no Cetra. You can’t speak to the Planet, remember? We’ve tried a lot when you were a child, didn’t we? It didn’t work.”

Slitted pupils shrunk, transfixed in shock on the researcher. Just like that, doubt was seeded. Freshly built certainties were cracking and crumbling. No… he refused to believe him. This man, he had lied all his life to him. He knew where he came from, and yet never said anything. Let him fester in doubt and countless questions for two whole decades without the slightest concern. And now, he laughed in his face.

“You’ve got time to let that sink in.” Hojo seemed to read his thoughts, shrugging lightly with a sneer, before moving to push the large needle into his side. “Of course, you’re still pretty special. A failed experiment, but you did pretty great as our poster child, didn’t you? And don’t worry… You’ve still got some purpose here.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, mouth pressing into a thin line at the sharp pain. The bastard was doing something to him without the slightest amount of anaesthetic, taking advantage of his paralysis.

“Look at these pretty liver cells.” The old man chuckled that irritating laugh under his nose, tapping the syringe with a satisfied look. Handing it over to a nearby assistant. “Start with these.”

A failed experiment. A perfect monster. Of all the things he had been told of being, he couldn’t understand nor like either. Had this truly been the reason of his existence all along? He was just the whim of a pathetic human being. A product of greed and playing God.

All so far from the grandiose role he had convinced himself of being. Could he really accept that?

His mind was miles away, eyes autonomously following the movements in the room. The assistant of Hojo who had his cells, was he going to be giving that to Genesis? Had Hojo been in cahoots with him too, after all?

He watched him move across the room, and only then he noticed the large tanks shining with mako light within. More of those pods to produce abominations, like Angeal’s and Genesis’?

Sephiroth’s eyes opened slightly, recognizing Zack’s reflection into one of them. And the other was….?

His vision was obstacled again. Hojo had returned. Another syringe, this one to be injected into his bicep.

“That will be enough for today, my boy.” His smile was sinister, in the shape of a crescent moon, the reflection of the bright light beside him whitening the surface of his round glasses.

The fallen hero felt the burning torpor of the sleeping potion run through his veins, and for once, he welcomed the embrace of sleep. Anything, to escape the nightmare of his existence.

[tsukoyomi-fumikage]

Fight of my life (MiriTama)

Mirio X Amajiki

Season four drabble - how the overhaul arc could’ve gone perhaps?

Again and again, Tamaki Amajiki was slammed into the floor by unforgiving people, letting out pained whines as Crystals stabbed into him and then began forming, pushing and stretching at his skin until it burst, dripping fresh blood down his back.

SunEater was in agony. "Give up yet?" The blond one, Toya if he remembered correctly from the debrief whispered in his ear. There was no breath swirling against his cheek from the mask. Amajiri refused to lose - not today. He needed to find Togata, needed to make sure he was okay. Gritting his teeth, he created tons of tentacles, wrapping them around the two men stood over him and the crystals stuck within him, pulling all away and throwing them across the room.

White hot pain roared through him, but he pushed himself up, standing shakily on two feet, sliding into a defensive stance, holding his fists out in front of him. He had to keep them all back and not let them get past him. For FatGum, for EraserHead... For Mirio. A grimince tore at his lips - he couldn't do this for long... But he had to try.

Letting out an enraged scream, Hojo, the man whom had stabbed him, tore himself forward, making his hands into shards of sharp crystal, trying to slam it against his face. Using his quirk, he commanded his left hand to turn into a clam, something he'd had earlier before the fight. It saved him from the first blow, but not the rounded second that came from the other fist, slamming into the right side of his head, pushing him back against the wall in a scared daze.

Switching his fingertips into tentacles once more, he pushed him off of him, glad that only one villain was back up and charging at him. Hojo was strong, he was willing to admit, but he wouldn't fail now. "No." He panted, trying to smile despite the anxiety screaming at him in his head. "I don't."

Suddenly, another pain, sharper this time, severing almost, tore up his octopus arms. It was like someone was almost... Munching on him? Confused and blurred eyes met the crazed eyes of the villain who'd just decided to awaken after being knocked out - Soramitzu. Being in so much pain, Amajiki had so clue what this man's quirk was, all he knew was that it fucking hurt.

"Yeah, Soramitzu's quirk is a real bummer for you, isn't it pretty boy?" The Larceny-quirk user sounded like he was smiling under his mask. "He can chomp through your arms like a sea-buffet!" He cackled, running a hand through his blond hair. "A match made in heaven!"

Eyes widening in horror, SunEater recalled his hands, and they slid back and became his fingers again. He jumped out of the way as best as he could as the Food Villain snarled at him, charging at him with lightening speed. This was bad, so fucking bad.

It didn't help that the thing was clearly psycotic - no amount of sweet talking would stop him, even if Tamaki had it in him to do so anyway. He frowned, dodging another attack. He couldn't keep doing this - he was going to get caught, have his arms ripped off, not be able to use the main part of his quirk...

To be useless again...

Amajiki didn't register being slammed into the wall, held by parts of shards protrouding from the villains body. He didn't really remember crying out in pain, unable to hide the pure agony any longer. SunEater was aware this was the end, however. For some reason, he was okay with it.

He'd done his duty. He'd protected his friends - family too. Even if it wasn't enough to some, it was enough to him. He would rather die here, quirk and all in a battle to the death, rather than out there, where his friends could see him crying and showing weakness.

The hit he was expecting to be his last never came though.

A crashing sound jolted him out of his dark thoughts. He blinked a few times, and his eyes began watering. "Mirio?" He croaked out, confused yet relieved. The villains all lay in a heap, tied up with his cut off tentacles.

"Oh God, Amajiki." The student couldn't help flinching at his friends wounds. Mirio felt like crying - if he hadn't run off to go and try save Eri, this wouldn't have happened. Now, his throat dried with the thought of having to remove each and every shard sticking through the man's skin. "I'm sorry about this, but I see no other way." Togata apologized, guilt clawing at him at the sight of his best friend.

Ever so carefully, he placed his hands on the untouched bit of his friends shoulders, grasping him tightly and tugging on him. Slowly, so painfully slow that it practically killed them both, he slid from the crystal restraints, Feet plopping onto the floor as he finally got to it. Gravity took over, and Amajiki's knees quaked, buckled, and allowed him to fall.

Mirio caught him, eyes wide and fearful for his friend. "Can you walk?" He asked the elf-eared man quietly, already knowing the answer, which was a silent shake of the head. "Alright, alright, that's okay."

Scooping the man into a bridal-style carry, he hoisted the poor boy along the corridors. It felt almost never ending, however Mirio knew the only reason it felt like that is because he couldn't use his quirk carrying SunEater. "Is the..." His voice was quiet and soft, like it normally was; However it held a roughness that could only be achieved through yelling too much - the number-one of the big-three's heart clenched at the thought of the Indigo-haired man screaming out in pain. "Kid... safe?"

He hugged him close, slowly climbing some nearby stairs. "Yeah, all safe. She's with EraserHead, Sir. NightEye and Deku."

"That's good." Black eyes closed, as if relieved and satisfied with his answer. Mirio charged as fast as he could go, tightening his grip. "That hurts." Came a small wheezed whimper, and he quickly let up, barking out a soft apology to the aching teen.

"We'll get you help, don't worry. It doesn't look serious, and you're still talking to me, so that must be good." He assured, speeding down yet another corridor or two, getting anxious.

Everything was silent for a few moments, except the pit-patter of footsteps running down the halls. SunEater felt the movement of his hair from the panted breaths of his friend, felt the hands squeezing him almost assuredly, as if telling him: 'It's alright now'. He also felt the small pool of blood collecting under his shirt, probably staining the fabric an unlikable red. "Close?" He muttered, feeling his face heat up at the tinsy bit of anxiety he couldn't hide.

"Almost there, c'mon, man, stay with me here!"

"Sorry." He said quietly, "I'm just tired."

"It's the blood loss, 'Jiki. Fight it, keep your eyes open."

They halted for a second, both meeting each others eyes before LeMillion adjusted his hands and arms, putting one around the smaller's back, and one under his butt, supporting him against his chest, allowing the younger to press his nose into the crook of his neck tiredly.

Somehow, they got out of that Godforsaken place and into the fresh air and bright light. The change in scenery was a plus for them both, but everyone outside, whom were mainly police accompanied by a few heroes, gaped at the injured student and his best friend whom was trying to get him to safety. The head officer of the squad waltzed over, guiding Mirio over to a tent that was set up for injured heroes and officers, and he gently placed his friend down.

"You feeling alright, Amajiki?" He asked softly, rubbing a hand through his hair, pushing back his bangs. The indigo-haired boy nodded, stifling a groan in pain at the pulling of his wounds. He watched at paramedics tended to every cut, doctors injected I.Vs and nurses spoke kind words to him, but he preferred only one comfort, and turned his head to look at Togata again, smiling a little at him, happy when he got one in return.

Everything will be alright if Mirio was at his side.