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With an exasperated sigh, he reached over the side of the bed to retrieve the book that, sometime during the night, his tired flailings had deposited on the floor. It was unharmed. Birds of the Future: Essays on a Greener Midgar. Hmm. He didn"t remember reading it or the dream responsible for its skydiving experience. Oh well.
Sephiroth went about his morning routine, and if he sang in the shower, no one commented on it. He dried and combed his hair, which he cared for as he would any weapon. In some sense it was; a weapon of intimidation indicating that no opponent had ever gotten near enough to cut it.
Another workday, another day wearing his black leather armor to whatever mission he"d assigned himself. No nice black slacks and button-down shirt (also black) for him. Shinra"s portrayal of him always dressed the same was slightly more accurate than he"d like.
Breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast. He appreciated the nonstick pan. They hadn"t had such luxuries in the field.
He took the replica of Masamune from where it rested on brackets above the couch.
Then it was time to get downstairs to the office, where the coffee was. He could have made it here in his apartment, but it was his custom to share with Zack...
...who was currently in Rocket Town advocating the pilot training programs available at the closest base. Zack had a gift for keeping hope alive and could drum up enthusiasm for anything. It made the world a better place in a way the upcoming board meeting was unlikely to do... but you never know.
Alone in his punctuality and therefore alone in the conference room, he picked the best chair and rubbed a smudge off the pretentiously glossy table before placing his notes in front of him. Predictably, Rufus was next to arrive. They glared hatefully at each other for a few minutes, their usual greeting. Sephiroth surprised himself by looking away first, diffusing the tension to protect Reeve, who had entered with his briefcase full of idealism. Rufus smirked, thinking he had won. Oh, how wrong he was. Sephiroth smiled.
He heard Scarlet"s purposefully clacking heels and Heidegger"s heavy stomps and Hojo"s shuffling steps outside in the hallway, Palmer"s wobbling gait that somehow reminded him of scurrying, and President Shinra"s practiced, authoritative stride. That was all. So, the Mayor would not be joining them. Then he realized he"d missed the last one: Tseng, whose soft tread through the doorway was silent compared to the others.
The meeting began.
President Shinra asked for their reports on the progress of his Neo Midgar plan and was disappointed by the answers. Rufus scoffed at the very idea of the project, but his father ignored it. Hojo made excuses about his lack of appropriate specimens. Sephiroth didn"t voice his relief that finding the Promised Land was no longer his concern. At that, Mother"s laughter distracted him from the others" replies. He doubted she"d ever explain what she thought was so funny.
No one noticed his lapse in attention, and when it was his turn he said, "Nothing new to report." Because of that, Heidegger also had nothing to say.
Scarlet received permission to investigate weaponization of Huge Materia in case any of the reactors needed to be shut down. Reeve argued against it (it was not his preferred method of recycling), but of course Scarlet got what she wanted.
Tseng had nothing new to report. People reported things to him, not the other way around.
Rufus interrupted Palmer"s standard begging-for-funding speech with a scathing remark, for which Sephiroth was grateful.
Meeting adjourned. Even though they were in the same room, Tseng sent him a text. He almost accepted the dinner invitation (to a place where they could discuss professional matters at leisure) before he remembered that day was a Tuesday. He politely declined. Tuesdays were cursed.
In his office, he poured another cup of coffee and confirmed the continued existence of paperwork.
He glanced at the updated layout for the SOLDIER application form and found no fault with it.
This catalog for ordering lab equipment had been misfiled. He"d bring it to Hojo later.
Here were the reports too secret to survive after he"d read them. The shredder hummed contentedly. It spared some surprisingly respectful fanmail, which he tucked away in the drawer like the rarity it was.
Enough from the inbox for now.
Today"s random mission was to deliver the monthly payment to the chocobo stables to the east, then return to Midgar with the shipment of greens. That could be interesting; they wouldn"t be expecting him to complete such an errand. He looked out the window to check the weather and saw only smog. Perhaps it was nicer outside the city walls. Oh, but he didn"t have time. He"d send a Third instead.
There was more paperwork, nothing too annoying.
He went to lunch where he could eat in peace: the place in the slums that made a good Korean B.B.Q. Plate. The smoky smell from the grills overcame the stench of poverty. The customers lived by the rules of the underworld and so didn"t bother anyone obviously stronger than they, nor did they chatter pointlessly in his presence. He tipped well, knowing it was safe, that none would dare rob a restaurant he favored.
On the way back to work (he did not take the train), he demolished a couple of weak monsters and basked in the delight of the people who observed from their hiding spots. The guards stationed in front of the Shinra building saluted him proudly and didn"t embarrass themselves when he nodded his acknowledgment, those he passed in the hallways did much the same. Sephiroth had the elevator to himself. He unlocked the door to his office.
Zack had once asked why everything he owned was black leather (which wasn"t even true!). Why not? He liked it. The desk chair was comfortable.
Underneath a mountain of mundanity was a check, his fee for the latest public appearance. He didn"t need the money. President Shinra paid him more than enough, probably out of some misplaced notion that his loyalty could be purchased. Whose turn was it to get the donation this time? Ah, the library. He let them put his name on projects he sponsored because it might encourage others to contribute, too.
There was no junk mail deviously planted by his second-in-command. It was boring without him around.
Now to the training field, to instruct the Firsts in losing and himself in patience. The late afternoon sunshine was nicer outside Midgar. He had a full class today. They"d all arrived on time and ready for the exercise; they knew better than to do otherwise.
Spectators who"d disregard their own safety to watch him crowded the rickety wooden bleachers constructed solely for their protection. He would refresh the Wall spell between rounds. Sephiroth drew his sword and assumed a defensive stance.
"Maxwell."
"Sir."
Their little duel was over before it began. Not bad. He beckoned the next combatant forward. And the next after that.
Hours passed.
He thought about taking a vacation soon, going somewhere where he could really fight. It was getting harder to find places like that, which he supposed he should be proud of. Instead, he worried he"d lose his edge. As if that were even possible. In the moment of distraction he made a mistake. His opponent was on the ground, bleeding heavily from a strike he"d forgotten to pull. Grateful for the replica sword, he administered the Cure and called an end to the session.
He overheard them talking as he left.
"Hey, Henry, are you okay?" That was Veronica. She was quite competent.
"Yeah, I"ll be fine. Scared half to death though... they say Masamune kills."
"It"s a sword. That"s what it"s for." Kelly was new.
"He means phoenix downs won"t work, that"s the rumor. Henry, what did you even do to get a warning like that?"
"I"m trying to figure it out."
It never occurred to them that the mistake was his. Just as it should be. He caught part of the conversation from the bleachers.
"Oh no, look at the time! I"ve got exams tomorrow, too!"
"Eh." The noncommittal tone suggested a shrug. "Totally worth it to skip some studying to watch this."
That was followed by an expression of agreement he was now too far away to hear.
He wondered how Zack was doing. The sun set, making the shadows soft.