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prismaticpichu · 1 year

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What if Sephiroth saw Genesis again as his evil self. what do you think would happen? What if Genesis knew of his sins. Causing one of his friends to die. And the other one to go insane. And then die. But come back?

What if Genesis asks Sephiroth for forgiveness?

Ohohohohoho….. that is some GOOD STUFF, buddy >:3c

Genesis can’t even fathom the sight before him. It chills him to the very bone, smothers every bit of satisfaction and smugness and pride that had been curling his lips into a smirk. The smirk is no longer there. Neither is the desire to bring it back. Genesis can’t find the strength to, regardless. Not now. Not anymore.

Not after seeing the look in Sephiroth’s eyes

“Sephiroth….” Genesis vaguely shakes his head, a certain nausea coming to brew in his head as he tries to digest the sight. A certain numbness. “What… what happened to you?”

The question is a ghost to the other’s ears; his response is nothing but a cold ripple of chuckles, and those reptilian slits narrow eerily against the wintry dusk of the wasteland, jade daggers cleaving through air as they scan him up and down.

“SOLDIER….” Sephiroth finally purrs. “You’re a SOLDIER.”

The comment breathes its own brand of ice into Genesis’s veins. It’s not the way he says it that chills him—the sludgelike molasses on his tongue, the way the syllables viscously rolled off and into the air. It’s what he said. The coil of incredulity tightens in his chest, and he responds dubiously that he was one—not anymore—and that Sephiroth was one once upon a time as well. He asks how Sephiroth could possibly say such a thing….. could forget such a thing, only to be returned with nothing but another round of chuckles. Chuckles that soon bubble out into a full, dark, humorless laugh.

Genesis takes several steps backwards as the man continues on with the detached laughter, unnerved. Icy. He swallows.

“Sephiroth…. what is… what is the matter with you?”

He hadn’t known what he was expecting when he came across the black-cladded man. Perhaps it was that he wanted him to be broken. Crippled. Be the way he had made him in the Reactor. Show that he was healed without him. Show how he hadn’t rotted.

But this…?

This is not what he….

Eventually, Sephiroth calms down again. The laughter dwindles away and he shakes his head—shakes his bangs, having grown so far beyond their original length. He again turns to look at the auburn, leer at him, and goes on to monologue to that he is something far greater than the mindless drones at SOLDIER. That within his veins flowed the blood of the ancients, that he was the rightful ruler of this planet and it was his place to cleanse it. Cleanse it of every human clinging to Her world like a parasite. Purge them. Destroy them. Eradicate them.

Each and every one.

And it flashes then, the deadly glints of silver scintillating against the night as Masamune is summoned.

Genesis will never be able to describe the vice that clasps heart then. His rattled eyes trace the katana from the very tip of its blade to the glove clenching its hilt—trace its fatal gleam, its famished intent, traces the sword to Sephiroth’s side as the man brings it into a readying stance.

Genesis doesn’t draw his own.

He can’t. He won’t. Not… not like this.

“Sephiroth….” The man hardly realizes the words leaving his mouth—omits the cold taste of hypocrisy that lapped at his tongue, taking another step back. “I don’t want to fight you.”

Please…—

For the third time, however, only cold laughter is his response.

And Sephiroth lunges.

Genesis is forced to draw Rapier as he obstructs the sword blazing towards his chest. Forced to engage in the fight. Through their clanging blades he continues to plead that he doesn’t want to fight—dodging, parrying, countering, leaping, landing. But all his shouts are in vain. Sephiroth just continues to attack him, trap him. There’s no choice. No escape. Their swings are fierce, violent, lethal. Flaming and crazy. Unbridled and relentless. Deadly beats to a deadly song.

And there, playing along to the fatal rhythm, Genesis realizes the song is one he has heard before.

It’s the training room. He is back in the training room. Back on that day when their friendly, passionate spar had been warped and whetted and twisted into a venomous battle of glory. When it had all started.

When his shoulder was wounded.

When it never healed.

When he had decided he would leave.

And when he had decided he would leave him behind.

Leave him behind to rot.

Thorns prick at Genesis’s eyes.

The misty veil—the hesitation—it’s enough to leave Sephiroth enough of an opening to strike. Rapier flies out of Genesis hands and with a painful cry he’s sent plunging towards the earth, falling and crumpling, rolling and tumbling, only coming to a an abrupt stop upon colliding with a stone jutting out of the ground. Thin rivers trickle down his temple as Sephiroth’s shadow comes to loom over him, drenching him in tar. Genesis coughs, moans. Shakily manages to lift his gaze and stare.

Stare right into those eyes.

It’s there, against the moonless night, that Genesis sees it: the pure insanity in those jade daggers. The complete lack of recognition. Eyes that didn’t remember their laughs, or their spars, or any of the games they played. Eyes that raged with barbarity. With bitterness. With hatred. With malice. A green inferno set ablaze by pain and loss and betrayal, and famished flames having swallowed those emotions whole.

The eyes of a monster.

No such luck…. you are a monster.

The words ring cruelly in Genesis’s head as the cold bite of Masamune is brought his throat.

No such luck.

No suck luck….

You are…

A monster.

What…. had he done….? What on GAIA had he done…? He had fed that poison. He had set that intern ablaze. He had started it. He was the catalyst. Angeal was gone, destroyed by his own twisted ideals he had infected him with—things he had believed under degradation’s influence and his own desperate attempts to make sense of the world. He had driven Angeal to his death. And now he had done it again.

He had killed Sephiroth.

The blade shifts against his neck; he tucks his head down, and a choke bursts from Genesis’s lips. The thorns had pricked deeper into his eyes, now bleeding with tears. And he doesn’t fight them.

He is going to die here, by his own friend’s blade. He knows he is. His life is going to end by the hands of someone he had once trusted with his life. There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to express what he is feeling, against the bitter chill of Masamune; words are insufficient, they always would be, when death’s door is rattling open for you.

There is only one thing left to say. Only only thing that mattered. Two words. Two simple words. Too little. Too late.

“I’m sorry….”

The words hang in the air like a leech. Clinging. Lingering. Genesis chokes, trying to meet with those amnesic eyes as he snaps his head up again.

“I’m sorry, Sephiroth…. do you hear me? I’m sorry…. oh Shiva I’m so sorry….” He again lowers his head quavering and trembling. Shuddering. He lets it all bleed out, every thread of dormant guilt and pain that had been tied up, all spilling out into the cold wintry air where his dead best friend stood before him.

Sephiroth narrows his eyes.

“I should I have never left you. Never. I should have never said those things to you—not like I did. It’s my fault… everything. Everything.”

Genesis gulps on his breath, his voice shivering down into a near whisper. “

“Please, my friend. If you can hear me…. forgive me.”

And he waits.

Encompassed in darkness, he waits for it to come. The finishing blow. The end. The karma. He waits for it for Gaia knows how long, time splintering into an irrelevant void. He waits. And waits. And waits.

Only it doesn’t come.

Instead, in an unreal haze, he feels the weight being lifted from his throat.

….

What….?

Quavering, heart thundering in his chest, Genesis glances up.

Sephiroth had retreated a handful of feet away, Masamune now pointed harmlessly towards the ground at his side. The blade still glints, still being clenched with ferocious might…… but now the man has a hand to his forehead….. his visage crumpled…. pained.

And then, amid the lifesaving silence that had fallen, he tries to speak.

“Wings… stripped away….” Sephiroth bites out. “The end is nigh…”

Genesis’s heart goes numb.

It is incredible how much weight could be lifted from a heart in such a short amount of time. With so little said. With so little needed. The man almost laughs, breaking into a hopeful smile.

“You…. remember…” Genesis smiles tearfully.

“……..How can I not……” Sephiroth continues to struggle, creaking one of his eyes open. It looks like he’s about to say more before a blood-curdling hiss pries his voice from his throat, and he crumples to his knees.

“Sephiroth!” Genesis pulls himself to his feet—his heart jolted, hope ignited—and rushes towards his wincing friend.

He isn’t leaving him. Not now. Not again. Not again

Before he can make it, however, a black wing explodes from Sephiroth’s shoulder.

“Not… safe…”

“Sephiroth, wait—“

And he shoots into the sky, off onto the clouds, leaving Genesis to run right through him.

#sephiroth #ffvii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 #asks #ty!!#pichu writing #one of our good ol fic-analysis hybrids!#final fantasy vii #crisis core #I’m sorry Genesis really doesn’t have personality here- I rarely write him and when I do it’s purely under a comical light so #y’know #but I tried xD

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