Page 7 - RKJ 2019 Online Flip Version

It seems that Shin-Ra has, even after all contracting in the sun. He still didn't know if he
Ghosts
by Rachel Emerson (Jinsoyun)
Author’s Note: This is a Final Fantasy VII story.
My fanfiction entry combines the prompts, “An
old foe has resurfaced. But something
seems…different” and an adaptation of “If we
should get separated, just whistle. I’ll come
running. I promise”. This story is written based
on the idea that a young Sephiroth and Aeris
might have crossed paths at some point while
Aeris was trapped in Hojo's laboratory with her
mother as a child. Although this is unlikely in
the canon universe, the entire fanfiction has an
"alternate universe" timeline.
[Nibelheim Village, Early Morning]
After a thunderstorm the night before, the sky
above the small mountain village is deceptively
clear and bright. Time seems to stand still
here, as if nothing has changed for the last ten
years. But of course, that isn't true. Even so,
the memories of the past aren't reflected in the
faces of the villagers moving through the
center of the town, going about their lives.
They have no knowledge of the consuming
flames that leveled the original Nibelheim, nor
of the fact that their homes are mere
reflections of those that once belonged to the
towns former inhabitants. Everything is
reconstructed in perfect detail, without a single
brick out of place.
these years, continued to succeed in hiding the
truth.
Yet not even Shin-Ra has the power to
keep the rumor mill from spreading like plague
in a small town full of children and village wives
with a taste for the dramatic.
The old Shin-Ra mansion still looms above
the town in all of its crumbling splendor, a
monolith to wealth in decline. The village
people say that it is haunted, and recently,
someone or something seems to be going out
of its way to prove that this is true. At night,
and rarely, in early morning, those living
closest to the mansion report hearing the soft
sound of a piano playing. The boldest of the
children, venturing beyond the locked iron
gates on a dare, say they have seen a silver-
haired ghost drifting past the windows with
eyes that seem to stare back at them from the
bottom of a mako reactor. Poisonous green,
angry.
One child claims to have spoken to the
Ghost. He says its name is Sephiroth.
----------------------------------
[Shin-Ra Mansion, Nibelheim]
Long fingers brushed over the yellowed keys of
a piano. The water-stained finish of the
instrument was cracked and peeling, but the
ivory still yielded in response to his touch. He
drew music from it- as a child, his tutors used
to say he could pull a melody from a stone, but
then someone put a sword in his hand and he
forgot the pleasures of the piano in favor of the
glint of steel. He only remembered it now
because it was the most recent thought on his
mind. Amongst all the others, it seemed the
most solid at the moment.
In a pool of sunlight filtering through a
crack in the windows, a length of pink ribbon
lay haphazardly across the pianos lid. It once
belonged to a woman named Aeris. He let his
gaze drop to it as he reached out to flip the
wrinkled page of a songbook, his slitted pupils
regretted her death, although she obviously
held some misguided pity for him. It was she,
who was responsible for his existence now,
and he had nothing to thank her for. A body,
restored. A mind complete with memories both
past and present, the remnants of himself he
had cast off into the lifestream recollected to
form a whole. He was...Sephiroth. Purified by
her grace. Forgiven by Gaia. Given a second
chance at life, and angrier than he'd ever been
in death because he didn't want it.
She called it a gift. He called it cruelty.
To trade power for the pains of the flesh
was not a choice he would have made
willingly. A body would hunger and thirst, need
sleep and warmth. His soul, which had known
no rest, was no longer free to rove the
lifestream but instead shackled by its
memories. He had considered killing himself to
find the release he sought, but found,
perversely, that he didn't want to die.
The fingers that moved so gracefully
across the keys of the piano struck a
discordant note, and let the song fade, its
bittersweet edge hanging in the air as he
stood. Turning towards the windows, he caught
a glimpse of his reflection in the filth-encrusted
glass and walked towards it. The rose vines
creeping through the cracks in the window
framed the face that stared back at him. Lifting
a hand, he ran a finger along a hollowed
cheek, watching his reflection mime the action.
He'd barely been able to recall what he looked
like during his time in the lifestream. Now, he
couldn't forget.
He let his hand drop. Soon enough, it
wouldn't matter. He may have been deprived of
the power he'd had in death. But that didn't
mean he couldn't find a way to reap his
revenge on those who were the source of his
suffering in this new life. The only benefit of
being without Jenova, although a part of him
still longed for her, was that it had given him
focus. He didn't care if the miserable beings
around him and the planet continued to live, so