#context I went for the version where Sephiroth and Cloud are closer-ish in age so he'd be 11 or so at this point

[screechthemighty]

Okay so. I’ve never written any of the characters in this fic before and I’m very, very new to a very complex fandom. But an old buddy of mine said she’d support me in this posting and I still have Sephiroth Valentine Truther Brain Rot, so. Here’s something for that AU I was talking about last night. I’ll decide later if I want to post it to AO3, but you’ll know if/when I do.

He picked up the scissors for what felt like the hundredth time, only to put them back down again.

In a way, Sephiroth missed the days when the decision was made for him—when Father would just cut his hair short enough to be hidden under a hat and that was the end of it. It was theoretically nice getting to choose, to shape his appearance into whatever he wanted, but...

He picked up the scissors again. Put them down. Huffed in annoyance and pulled the hair ties free. His hair was getting long again; it fell between his shoulder blades, into his face as he leaned closer to the mirror, scrutinizing his appearance. The eyes were hard to explain away, that was inescapable, but...other teenagers bleached their hair, right? Wore it long? Would it stick out that much?

In a place like Nibelheim, it probably would. That was why the decision felt more important than usual. They weren’t staying long, just a few days. But there was a Mako reactor in Nibhelheim, and Mako reactors meant Shinra, and Shinra meant being taken away if they were caught. Back to a life he barely remembered now, except in the rare nightmare that wasn’t about something dark falling from the sky.

Why here?

Information. Could be worth the trip, if we’re careful.

Being careful meant not standing out too much. Even if it was only a few days.

He reached for the scissors.

Something crashed in the alleyway outside.

This time, when he picked up the scissors, it wasn’t to cut his hair.

It was stupid—if Shinra were after them, they wouldn’t have sent operatives that made that much noise—but he had to check. Peering out the inn’s window confirmed that it definitely wasn’t Shinra. Just some kids and a knocked over trash can. Nothing dangerous, not to him.

Except...

He looked again. It looked like one of them—blond, young, hard to tell how young but a good few years younger than Sephiroth—was on the losing end of a fight against the other two. Oh, he was trying, even managed to get in a few hits, but they were bigger, older, and they outnumbered him. Sephiroth put the scissors down, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Stay inside  unless I call or I’m not back by dinner. It was about the only thing that had been asked of him that day. They were trying to keep their heads down. Show their faces as little as possible. But...

The blond boy was knocked onto his back, taking a kick to the ribs as he landed.

Sephiroth at least had the sense to grab sunglasses before he went through the fire escape and jumped down into the alley.

It was only a two-story drop. He’d made further. He was still a little surprised the boys didn’t hear him when he landed. It took grabbing the first of the bigger of the two as he went to swing to get his attention. “Hey - !”

“Two on one’s not fair,” Sephiroth said calmly. All three boys froze, looking confused and a bit off-put. He had that affect on people, he knew, even with his eyes covered. “What are you trying to prove? He’s smaller than both of you.”

The bigger boys looked at each other nervously. “None of your business,” said one.

“It is now. Leave him alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or else this fight is about to get unfair for you.”

It wasn’t hard to be threatening—not when he’d appeared out of nowhere, was the tallest one there, and a death grip on one boy’s wrist. He squeezed tighter to make a point. He could hurt them. Theoretically. Father had been a Turk, showed Sephiroth enough to defend himself. And even on his own, Sephiroth was...unique.

I’m a prize lab rat and my fangs are bigger than yours.

Fortunately, the boy took the hint. Sephiroth let him go when he pulled his wrist away, but didn’t let his guard down until they started moving out of the alley. “Your buddy won’t be around next time, Strife,” spat one of the boys.

The blond scrambled to his feet, bristling at the words; Sephiroth had to grab his shoulder to stop him from running after them. “They’re not worth it,” he said. “Are you hurt...?”

“I had that!” The boy—Strife, first name or last?—pulled away, whipping around to glare at Sephiroth. There was blood running down his nose, and one eye was already starting to swell shut. He probably wouldn’t have held up much longer on his own. I saved him. Why is he so...?

Strife wasn’t looking directly at him. His shoulders were tense, and his blue eyes had a hint of tears in them. That wasn’t a confrontational stare. It was...

Ah. He’s embarrassed.

“Okay,” Sephiroth said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Was he supposed to reassure the boy he definitely had it? Because he definitely hadn’t. It’d be stupid to say otherwise. At least he was standing on his own, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. That meant he couldn’t be too badly hurt.

Bad form, though, Sephiroth noted. He reached out to take one of Strife’s hands. The other boy flinched. “Hey...!”

“You’re doing that wrong. Thumb over your fingers...” Sephiroth carefully moved the other boy’s hands into the right posture. “...wrist like this. So you don’t hurt yourself.”

Should I be telling him this? Probably not. But at least this way if those other boys came back, he’d do it right.

Strife’s eyes narrowed distrustfully, as if searching for the real reason Sephiroth was telling him this. Good. You should be skeptical. Not everyone is nice like me. “Who are you?” Strife asked.

Damn it. What name was he using this time? Should he even give that name? “Just visiting,” Sephiroth said. He hoped it sounded mysterious and not like he was dodging the question. “Anyway, if you can get home without getting beat up again, I’ll...”

Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder and grimaced. Oh, right, he’d jumped. The ladder wasn’t even down. Good job. Now you look insane. Or stupid. “...go,” he sighed.

He felt Strife’s eyes on him as he jumped to pull down the ladder. When he glanced over his shoulder, the other boy was still staring. Sephiroth stared back until Strife looked away and started limping out of the alley.

Should I follow him? No. He was supposed to be keeping his head down. Strife would be fine once he was back out in the open, near adults who could intervene. Assuming he didn’t try to hunt those other boys down to finish the fight. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be that stupid.

Sephiroth made sure the window was closed and locked, blinds sealed again, before heading back to the bathroom, grabbing the scissors on the way. He took off his sunglasses and stopped, suddenly transfixed by his own reflection. He found himself mentally comparing himself to those other three boys. The white hair, the fairness of his skin, not even marked by sunburn or freckles the way Strife’s was. And his eyes...

Funny. He only looked strange to himself after he’d spent time around other people. Having something to compare himself to, something other than Father, always reminded him of what he was.

It never felt good.

Sephiroth closed his eyes. “Not your fault,” he whispered. “Not your fault.”

His pupils narrowed back to slits when he opened his eyes again. He stared at himself until the reflection looked familiar again.

Then he picked back up the scissors.

If he was going to be wearing a hat for a few days, might as well have less hair to put under it.

By the time Father came back, Sephiroth’s hair was trimmed back to his shoulders, all the cut bits tucked away in a bag to be burned when they were back on the road (unnecessary, maybe, but sometimes it was worth it to be paranoid). Father looked tired, tense, but no more so than usual, so they were probably fine. “Did you get anything?” Sephiroth asked.

“Stew,” Father replied, deadpan, as he held up a takeout bag.

Sephiroth smiled. “Not what I meant.”

“I know.” Father set the back down and carefully shrugged off his jacket. He looked so different whenever he went out—contacts to hide his eyes, clothes in muted colors, hair tied up or tucked away.  Looking different was the idea, but it always made Sephiroth uncomfortable. “Not yet. They’re working everyone hard lately. Quotas to meet. Soon, though.” The unnatural brown of his contacts darted Sephiroth’s way. “Did something happen?”

Should I tell him? It was probably nothing, but...no such thing. “Some boys got in a fight outside. I told them to go away. I was careful.” Okay, jumping off the fire escape hadn’t been careful, but no one had actually seen him do it, so it was fine. Probably. “Just dumb kids.”

Father sounded a little amused when he spoke: “Dumb kids? You’re fifteen, Seph.”

“Exactly. I’ll be able to drive in three years.” Well. Legally. He could drive now, as long as they weren’t pulled over. “Anyway, it was nothing.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Mm-hmm.” Sephiroth started unpacking the takeout container while Father shuffled to the bathroom. He had a lot of questions, but he bit his tongue and waited until Father re-emerged. The contacts were gone. It was a relief. Other people would see his red eyes as frightening; Sephiroth had only ever found them a comfort.

“Haircut looks good,” Father noted, trying and failing to push own his hair back out of his face.

“Thanks. Why here? Is there something special about this place?”

“...Yes and no. You were born here, I know that, but I don’t know if that increases our odds. It’s just the best lead we have right now.” Father glanced towards the window. “It’s not a bad town. If it weren’t for the reactor...”

He didn’t finish the thought, but Sephiorth knew what he meant. If it weren’t for the reactor, they could’ve stayed longer than a few days. Not forever—that was something else Shinra had taken from them—but longer.

“Next place,” Sephiroth said, quietly confident. “After we get answers.”

Still, despite himself, Sephiroth found himself glancing at the window as they ate. Thinking about the glimpses of the outside he’d seen. He wondered what it would be like, to belong to this town the way Strife and those other boys did. They may have been living under Shinra’s shadow, but they had a peace in their lives he’d never known.

He wondered if they knew how lucky they were.