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The hunter should have been satisfied with his catch. He had downed five quail, three geese, and two ducks on his outing-all very good, spotless birds, whose stuffed forms would look very impressive in his trophy room. But though he was pleased, he wanted something else, something bigger and better.
Almost as if on cue, a heavy flap of wings brought his attention to the sky. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun. It was far above him, so much so that he could not see many details, but he could see enough to know that he could surely strike it down.
He brought the bow up, smirking to himself as he positioned the arrow. It had to be just right. He could not damage those wings at any cost. They would have to be seen to be believed, and for any of them to be pierced by an arrow hole would be a crime. Of course, if it happened, he would see to it that the wounds were patched in the best possible way so as to be nearly unnoticeable. But it would be better for it not to happen at all.
He let go of the string, the arrow hissing as it was launched into the air. It hit its mark before the bird knew it was coming, and the creature froze in pain as it was struck in the back. Once again the hunter fired, swiftly, before it could try to get away in spite of the wound. Again it was hit, and apparently the shock and the agony was too much. Its wings went limp, sending it plunging out of the sky.
The huntsman chuckled low, hurrying forward. He could hear it falling through the branches of a nearby tree, where it crashed on the grassy surface with a grunt of pain. He frowned in confusion. Did birds grunt? That had sounded more like . . . But that was impossible. . . .
His eyes widened in shock and alarm when he finally got to where the body had landed. This . . . this was not a bird at all. It was a human of some description, a human with wings! It was unheard-of! Was it intelligent? It was wearing clothes . . . and carrying a long sword. . . .
He backed up when it shuddered and looked up at him. The green eyes were filled with pain, as well as anger. Slowly it began to push itself up into a sitting position, despite the arrows protruding from its back. Was it going to attack in retaliation?
“What are you?!” he gasped.
“Right now? I am very angry,” was the retort. The humanoid drew himself up to his full height, what must be 6'7", and pointed his sword at the hunter. “Why did you shoot me down?”
“I thought you were some kind of bird!” the hunter insisted. “I didn’t know you were a monster!”
“Yeah! You tell him, Gaston!” a short, fat man cheered as he came out from the bushes.
The winged man scarcely looked impressed. “You shot me out of the sky like an animal, show no remorse or regret for your mistake, haven’t offered to help me, and you dare to call me the monster?”
“Hmph. Well, what are you going to do?” Gaston demanded.
“I . . . don’t have time for this.” The winged man advanced, still pointing his sword at Gaston to force him to back up. “Get out of my way.”
Gaston glowered. “Bird or not, your wings would be an amazing centerpiece on the tavern’s wall!” He pulled out a gun. “I’ll have them now!”
The wounded man sliced through the weapon without batting an eye. “You’re not taking them.”
Gaston’s jaw dropped as his gun fell in pieces to the ground. “N-Now . . . now see here!” he cried. “I demand you pay for that!”
“I’ll pay for the gun and you’ll pay for my hospital bill?” The sword was pointed at him again. “You should do that anyway.”
“I . . . I . . . the hospitals around here don’t accept freaks!” Gaston declared.
“Get him, Gaston!” the annoying little man cheered.
“Ugh. This is a waste of time.” The winged man raised his hand above his head and a portal formed in the sky. He flew up to it, gritting his teeth against the pain shooting through his back.
“You’re just letting him get away?” the little man exclaimed.
“I’m out of arrows and he damaged my gun,” Gaston said in annoyance. “But if we ever meet again, I will still get his wings!”
Sephiroth vanished into the portal without another word. Now that he was alone, he could no longer hide how much pain he was in. Shakily he reached behind him, grasping the arrow closest to his hand. If he could just pull it out. . . .
His eyes widened as the renewed pain swept over him, bringing vertigo with it. It was lodged deeper than he had thought. Even if he got the blasted things removed, what would he do if he passed out from the blood loss and the agony? He wasn’t immune to that, even though he had a high tolerance for pain. Maybe the portal he had made wouldn’t even go back to Radiant Garden, where he was trying to go. But unfortunately, there was no backing out of it now. He could see the other end of the portal now. Where would he come out?
Well, it would be interesting to see the answer.
****
"I wonder how Sora's doin' . . ." Goofy remarked, somewhat sadly, as he and Donald made their way over the grounds of the Disney Castle. It had been months since they had seen their human friend, and it seemed so . . . strange without him around. And whether Donald would admit it or not, Goofy had the feeling that he felt the same way.
"He's probably having fun with Kairi and Riku," Donald answered with a shrug. "Anyway, things are back to normal now."
"Yeah . . . but dontcha kinda miss the old times, travelin' around with Sora, meetin' new people . . ."
"I don't miss the Heartless," Donald retorted.
"Well . . . no, I don't either," Goofy agreed slowly. "But still . . ."
He was interrupted at that moment by a sudden burst of light that appeared in front of them both. He gasped, stumbling back into Donald as he tried to shield his eyes from the glare.
"What is it?!" he yelped.
Donald cried something unintelligible in reply.
As the glow faded, and as Goofy dared to uncover his eyes, he saw something he was not expecting in the least. A man was suddenly on the grass on his hands and knees, his long hair spilling around him as he gasped in pain. The three wings on his back were hanging limp on the ground, and two arrows were deeply embedded in his back.
"That's Sephiroth!" Donald screamed now, his voice filled with confusion and indignation.
Goofy swallowed hard. It was true, it was Sephiroth. He remembered the other all too well from their past encounters. "Gawrsh, he's hurt," he said tentatively.
"It's probably a trick!" Donald warned, as Goofy took several steps forward. "He can't get hurt. He's the dark part of Cloud's heart! Don't you remember?!"
Goofy stopped, frowning, bewildered as well. "I thought Cloud'd beaten him!" he exclaimed. And yet, here he was. He certainly did not look as if he was pretending to be hurt. The blood was dripping off his back into the grass. His green eyes were wide and agonized, and slowly he tried to push himself back so that he was kneeling upright. Instead he fell forward again, gripping at the blades of green with his hands.
"Maybe he beat Cloud!" Donald said. "We need to tell the king!"
Goofy nodded, still confused. "Maybe we need to help him first," he mused. It would seem cruel to simply run back inside and leave him there in misery.
Sephiroth looked up, highly unimpressed by their actions of talking around him. "I can hear you both," he muttered. Though deciphering the duck's half-quacking vernacular was not always easy, especially in his dazed state. It mostly just sounded like a garbled mess.
Now he did push himself into position, his upper wing twitching with the motion. Reaching behind him, he took hold of the arrow once more. This was not at all where he had meant to go. But he could not possibly try again. Teleporting a second time would almost certainly leave him unconscious upon entry, and that was the last thing he needed. Gritting his teeth, he began to pull out the sharp weapon.
Goofy stared at him. "You're just gonna get that out yourself?!" he exclaimed incredulously.
"I trust myself . . . to do it right," Sephiroth gasped. At last it came free, dripping with red. He stabbed it into the ground, going for the second one. That one had gone in deeper. He narrowed his eyes. He should still be able to get it out.
"What happened to you?" Donald demanded, still not convinced that this was not an elaborate act. "And where's Cloud?!"
"Safely back in Radiant Garden," Sephiroth said, not bothering to address the first inquiry. "I don't have time to explain." He did have to wonder what he was going to do in the meantime. He would hopefully be ready to travel again before long, in a few hours, but it was obvious that right now he needed to rest. And though he did not want to stop here, this was where he had landed. Not that he would be welcome here anyway.
Goofy slowly walked behind him, seeing the struggle that he was having with the second arrow. No matter how he pulled, it did not seem to want to extract itself. And every time he attempted it, more blood ran over his gloved hands and down his back. Goofy swallowed hard, sickened at the sight. Either Sephiroth did not have the strength to remove it, or else it was . . . caught on something in there. . . .
"It looks like you really need somebody to help ya!" he said. This was all very bizarre. And though he certainly did not trust Sephiroth, he still felt concern for the other because of his injuries. He did not want the winged man to be hurt.
"You aren't even a whole person!" Donald quacked, nervous and concerned. He did not like Sephiroth's presence here at all. What could he be plotting? "You're part of Cloud!"
"I'm not literally part of Cloud," Sephiroth found himself hissing. It was truth, but not one that he revealed often anymore. Maybe he was saying it to get the bird to shut up. He was such a motor-mouth. His gangly companion seemed to be the more reasonable of the two.
"You're not?!" Goofy gasped.
"You're lying again!" Donald accused.
"Prove it." The spots and stars were swirling in front of Sephiroth's eyes now, and it was obvious that he was not going to last. To fall unconscious in front of anyone was humiliating and demeaning, but he could tell he wasn’t going to be able to stop it.
"Hey! What's goin' on here?!"
Donald and Goofy whirled around, and Sephiroth weakly raised his gaze to focus on the figure of a mouse in royal attire coming toward them. Great . . . the ringleader, too. All of them would be here to witness this ignoble moment.
"Your Majesty, it's Sephiroth!" Donald screamed.
"He's hurt!" Goofy chimed in.
"Sephiroth? Hurt?" King Mickey frowned deeply, making his way over to the shuddering human. This was indeed unexpected. He had heard tales of the legendary swordsman and warrior who had been hailed as a hero on many worlds before a tragedy had sent him into the shadows. Sora, Donald, and Goofy had told him some time back that the other claimed to be the darkness in Cloud's heart, but though the mouse was certain that could not be true, he was not sure of what the truth could actually be.
The silver-haired man trembled again, his hands dropping from the stubborn arrow embedded in his flesh. "Your Majesty," he smirked in great effort. His eyes rolled back into his head as he fell forward among the soft green blades.
****
Mickey was alarmed when Sephiroth collapsed into the grass. “Sephiroth?!” he called. “Can you hear me?”
Goofy cautiously went over, laying a hand on the man’s armor-covered shoulder. “Sephiroth? Hey! We’re worried about ya!”
Donald scowled at the scene. “He’s probably faking.”
Mickey was quick to notice the arrow and the blood. “He’s not faking,” he insisted. “Look! He’s really hurt!”
Donald wavered a bit. It would certainly be enough to hurt a normal person, but Sephiroth? He still wasn’t convinced Sephiroth was real enough to even have blood and feel pain.
“Okay, fellas,” Mickey continued. “We’ve gotta get him inside. Donald, go get somebody to bring a stretcher.”
Donald still hesitated, but only for a moment. Mickey was the king and this was an order. They would definitely do this for anyone else who showed up injured. Naturally Mickey wouldn’t feel any differently about Sephiroth. Still, as he hurried back to the castle, he said, “I hope this is a good idea.”
Mickey just smiled. “It’s going to be alright, Sephiroth,” he said cheerfully, patting him gently on the back. “We’ll help ya!” And he sobered as he set about trying to stop the bleeding from the wounds.
Goofy watched awkwardly, bending forward with his hands on his knees as he looked for a way he could help. “I wonder what happened to him,” he said. “He don’t seem like the kind of guy you could get the drop on easy.”
“Anybody can have an accident,” Mickey said. “Somebody must have deliberately attacked him.”
“Donald would probably wonder if he deserved it,” Goofy said.
“I’m pretty sure he didn’t,” Mickey said. “Sephiroth was a great hero not too many years ago.”
“He was?!” Goofy said in surprise.
Mickey nodded. “You don’t hear too much about that anymore, but you still hear a lot about the name Sephiroth.” He lifted the cloth to check the wounds and then replaced it to keep pressing when the bleeding continued. “Something awful happened that broke his heart. I’m not sure exactly what it was; there were lots of rumors, but I never heard the real story. He just withdrew from everywhere when it happened. People say he went off to train and get stronger. Some say he started dabbling in dark magic.”
“He knows some,” Goofy said. “We saw it when he was fighting with Sora.”
“Just knowing some doesn’t make him bad,” Mickey said. “It’s what he does with it that’s important.”
Donald returned with several castle residents and a stretcher in time to hear these last exchanges. “He doesn’t do anything good with it!” he scowled.
“I know you two were upset about him challenging Sora for the Keyblade, but it sounded more to me like he was just testing Sora’s worthiness,” Mickey said. “He does things like that. Always did. It’s just part of him being a good teacher. I’ve heard he pushes people to their limits to become their best selves.”
“You think he was tryin’ to help Sora?” Goofy said in surprise.
“I think he could have been,” Mickey agreed. “And of course, even if that’s not true and he’s been doing some bad things, he still deserves to be helped now.” He looked up at the newcomers. “Okay, let’s get him up and inside!”
Together the group managed to lift the tall man and lay him on the stretcher. As they stood, Mickey said, “Be careful of his wings, everyone!” All three were hanging limply to the ground, where they could easily be stepped on if someone wasn’t being careful.
Donald looked skeptical that it could be completely avoided. But he said nothing on that subject as they headed for the castle.
****
He could not recall feeling anything so soft.
He was laying in a bed that was very comfortable and which sank down, yet which still had a certain firmness to it. At the risk of sounding cliché, it was just right. As were the pillows.
Slowly he opened his eyes. He was laying on his stomach, and it felt like the upper half of his body was bare, save for the bandages on his back. Bandages . . . why were there . . . oh yes, some idiot had shot him out of the sky. He winced as the memories rushed back, along with the pain.
Wait . . . he had swooned at the Disney Castle. Did that mean he was still at that location? He frowned slightly in confusion. Would they take care of someone such as him? And was he free to go wherever he wished, if he could get up? Or would they have made him a prisoner in this room? If the king did not know about that battle against Cloud, it was likely that the dog and the duck would tell him, and they would be sure to mention that Sephiroth had come across as the villain. They would surely not want him to be able to roam at will through the castle, in case he had some secret desire to conquer the kingdom. Which he did not.
"Oh hey! You're awake!"
The sudden voice gave him a start. So someone had been appointed to watch him? He turned his head slightly to the side in the direction of the voice, recognizing the doglike creature that had followed the Keybearer.
"How long has it been?" he mumbled.
The dog shrugged helplessly. "Gawrsh, it's been a while," he answered. "Maybe a couple hours. . . . We brought ya inside, and got ya fixed up, and I said I'd wait here till you woke up. You got hurt really bad. Were you fightin' someone?" He blinked wide, curious eyes at the other.
"No." Sephiroth rose up slightly, taking in the large, luxuriously decorated room. The sun was still streaming in from outside—afternoon sun, from the looks of it. The heavy, royal red curtains with gold trim were pulled back on either side by matching golden ropes. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made out of smooth marble, which caught the rays of the light and heat source outside and reflected them off of each other. Various expensive paintings and exquisite vases added to the decor, and both the porcelain surfaces and the gold and silver trimmed frames also caught the sun's light.
He looked back to the canine—Goofy, was it? "I wasn't expecting that I would be treated so well," he said bluntly as he sank back onto the pillows. There was still the thought in his mind that maybe this was part of some scheme to give an illusion of freedom, but no . . . the dog seemed sincere. And he did not appear to be the sort who would be able to trick someone into believing he was if he was not. Zack had a name for that kind of person—"What you see is what you get." No facades or masks, just the pure personality, whatever that happened to be.
Goofy blinked again, in surprise. "You didn't think we'd just leave ya there, bleedin', did ya?!"
Sephiroth grunted. No, he had not expected that, either. He did not think that they were heartless. Quite on the contrary, they seemed to be the sort who wanted to always fight for righteousness. To leave him to his own affairs at that point would have been below them.
"I thought your king would want to take precautions to ensure that I wouldn't try to topple the kingdom," he said at last.
A flicker of worry passed over the animal's features. "You wouldn't, would you?!" he exclaimed.
A spark of sadism crept into Sephiroth's heart as he smirked. "What if I would?" he replied.
Goofy frowned at him. "Aw, you're tryin' to scare me," he scolded.
Hm. So he would not believe everything he was told. Interesting. Apparently he was not as simple-minded as he initially appeared to be. Though, Sephiroth did recall that Goofy had a certain amount of spunk, judging from their previous meeting at Hollow Bastion.
Slowly the silver-haired man rose up again, crossing his arms on the downy pillow. "You're saying that your king isn't concerned at all in that direction?" He had to admit that he was vaguely curious. Not to mention ungodly bored, and that could be a powerful motivator for conversation. There was not anything to do except to think or else to talk to this dog. And he had plenty of time to think as it was.
"Well, I guess you'd havta ask him."
Goofy regarded the injured man with a certain amount of unease. It was certainly true that he had fought Sora for the Keyblade in the past. If he was a power-hungry sort, then maybe he would go after the castle, or at least, the King's Keyblade. Would it even matter that they had tried to help him? Maybe he would consider that they were all fools and that they shouldn't have trusted him. But he was surely too hurt right now to do anything.
"Can I ask ya somethin'?"
Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "You're physically capable of it," he retorted.
Goofy nodded, seeming to take courage. "Did ya really mean what ya said, about not being part of Cloud?"
Sephiroth studied him thoughtfully. It had been said in a moment of sheer frustration and pain, and if he had been with it better, it would not have been uttered. But now it had been, and he was too weary to play mind-games by effectively dodging the statement. There was not a reason why this entity needed to believe the half-truth, anyway.
"I meant it."
Goofy shifted. "So . . . Cloud really is okay?" he asked slowly.
"Unless he's gotten himself into trouble during the time I've been here, then yes, he's fine."
"Well . . . that's good." Goofy still looked confused. "But . . . why do ya wanna hurt Cloud? He's already been through a whole lot."
"I'm not trying to hurt Cloud." Sephiroth smirked grimly to himself. He really must be worn out right now. On the other hand, it seemed more interesting to tell these truths to this entity, rather than partial falsehoods.
Goofy frowned again. "What would you call it, then?" he demanded.
“I’m trying to help him face what he refuses to face about himself,” Sephiroth said. “But he continues to not want to face it and paints me as the villain for pointing it out to him.”
"Then why do ya do it?!" Goofy persisted.
Sephiroth studied him, his expression deadpan. “Sometimes I wonder.”
Goofy considered that. “I think you must really care about Cloud a lot, to keep tryin’ to help when he just don’t get it.”
That brought a bit of a smile-smirk. “Perhaps.”
“I hope he’ll figure that out someday,” Goofy said.
“I don’t have much hope of that,” Sephiroth grunted.
“You must have some,” Goofy replied. “You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t have any, would you?”
“Hm. I suppose I wouldn’t,” Sephiroth mused. “It would be a colossal waste of time, at least.” And he often wasn’t sure it wasn’t.
The door abruptly opened. "What's going on in here?!" demanded the motor-mouth duck from earlier.
Goofy started and looked over, and Sephiroth turned as much as he could without irritating his back.
"I'm just talkin' to Sephiroth, Donald," Goofy replied. "He woke up!"
Donald came in, glaring at Sephiroth suspiciously. He was met with a gaze of boredom, which did not ease the other's concerns.
"You're probably not grateful that we helped you," he muttered.
Sephiroth was suddenly amused. "You sound like Cloud," he said.
Donald was not expecting that. He blinked, opening his mouth, shutting it again, frowning at the other, and then finally opening his mouth again. "Then Cloud knows what he's talking about!" he retorted.
"Does he?" Sephiroth replied vaguely. This was entertaining for a few minutes, but it was quickly getting stale. He got enough of running in verbal circles with his blond nemesis, without engaging in the practice now with this duck. Somehow, barely being able to understand what the other was saying lessened his enjoyment of the game.
"Okay, fellas. I want to talk to Sephiroth now."
Again the room's occupants all turned in the direction of the door. King Mickey was entering, his expression slightly amused by the banter—though there was a more serious gleam in his eyes.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Donald agreed, stepping aside.
"Alone," the mouse said in a calm, yet firm tone.
Both Goofy and Donald were surprised.
"Alone?!" Goofy repeated, blinking amazed eyes at his ruler and friend.
"But . . . Your Majesty . . . ! Shouldn't we stay here, in case he tries something?" Donald gasped.
The king chuckled. "No, I'll be alright," he said, going to a chair next to the bed and climbing up on it.
Donald was not ready to give up. "But . . ."
Mickey responded by giving the other a stern look that said his mind was made up. The duck knew that look well, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Come on, Donald," Goofy said resolutely, heading for the door. "If the king thinks he's okay, then he must be."
Donald glowered at the floor, then at Sephiroth, before turning to follow the other. Somehow, Sephiroth had the feeling that they were going to linger in the hall, perhaps to attempt eavesdropping at the door.
Mickey apparently thought the same. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You've made a pretty infamous name for yourself in some places," he remarked, looking to the human stretched out on the bed. "That's why they're so worried."
"Yes, I'm quite aware of that."
Sephiroth studied the rodent thoughtfully. It seemed odd, that one so small was so powerful. He wielded Keyblades, but not only that, he had all of this kingdom at his beck and call. Size of the body, he supposed, was not as important as the size of one's mind. But he still took quite a bit of pride in his physical strength and stamina as well as his reasoning abilities.
"You may be making a mistake, to not have anyone around to protect you."
"Maybe," Mickey agreed, "but I'm not worried." He smiled. "I guess you could say that I'm trusting you."
"People who trust too much often end up dead."
"If they don't trust, are they really happy?"
"It's not a matter of deciding not to trust anyone," Sephiroth stressed. "The problem is in knowing who is trustworthy."
"Yep." Mickey nodded. "That can definitely be a problem."
Sephiroth frowned slightly. "You're saying, then, that you find me trustworthy," he deduced.
"Well . . . I don't really know ya or anything, just what I’ve heard, so I'm giving you the benefit of a doubt," Mickey said.
Blind trust, then, just what Sephiroth had mentioned often killed people. "Why?"
"You needed help. Who would've given it to you, if we hadn't?"
"Heh."
"It's hard for you to accept help, isn't it?" Mickey mused.
Sephiroth grunted. "If it has to be done, then I accept it. And I’m grateful for it. Though, most people wouldn't want to help me. I can only think of one other person who would do so willingly. And he’s . . . not around." He refused to think Zack was dead. He would keep searching, determined to believe his friend was somehow alive after falling off that cliff.
"One person?" Mickey repeated in disbelief. He shook his head again, a sad smile gracing his features. "I think maybe you just haven't been around too many of the right kind of people," he declared. "Actually, there's a lot who'd be willing to help out. I think some of 'em don't because they're just afraid of gettin' in the way, or that their help really isn't wanted, and that kinda thing."
"And some of them honestly don't care," Sephiroth came back.
He found himself slightly annoyed by the direction the conversation had taken. Maybe he was too pessimistic, it was true. Zack had said that a lot. But Sephiroth had not minded when Zack said it. Zack had been his only friend, the person whom the other entrusted with everything. Zack had known why he felt as he did. This mouse did not. It was not his place.
Mickey nodded. "Yeah . . . I know some of them don't," he agreed. "But in the big picture, there's a lot less of them than there are of the helpful kind."
"Maybe. But then there's a large percentage of those who only help because they're seeking a reward for it."
"Do you think that's why we helped you?" Mickey asked.
"No." Sephiroth smirked grimly. "I wouldn't have anything to offer anyway, unless you wanted my powers. And I'm not willing to part with them."
Mickey smiled. "Well, we wouldn't wanna make you do that." He blinked curiously at the silver-haired man. "Why do you think we helped you, anyway? If you don't mind my asking."
Sephiroth continued to smirk in his sardonic way. "I would assume because your consciences wouldn't allow you to rest if you didn't."
"Well . . . I guess when you think about it, that is part of it," Mickey conceded. "But you don't think we just wouldn't wanna see you laying there in pain without tryin' to help out?"
"I don't think you're heartless, if that's what you mean." Sephiroth continued to watch the mouse as he spoke. "If you mean whether I think you would care about me, personally, then no, I don't. I believe you would probably help anyone who fell into your midst, out of a desire to not see anyone suffer."
"That's a good reason," Mickey said with a nod. "But you're kinda overlookin' the fact that if we don't want anyone to suffer in general, we wouldn't want you, personally, to suffer either." He smiled. "And you mentioned knowin' one person who'd wanna help you 'willingly.' Is that someone you're close to?"
Sephiroth gave him a look that said it was not his business. Unoffended, Mickey continued.
"That's another reason why we want to help you—so that that person won't havta worry."
“As I said, that person is not around now,” Sephiroth replied, the sadness lacing his voice.
“And you really don’t have anyone else?” Mickey sadly asked.
“There is no one else,” Sephiroth said. “No one is worrying about me.”
Well, perhaps Merlin would be concerned, if he knew Sephiroth was in trouble. But aside from that, there was no one. Cloud would probably dance on his grave if he was dead.
“That’s an awfully lonely life,” Mickey said.
Sephiroth shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Mickey said.
When Sephiroth had passed out on the lawn, he had looked very pale and weak. And he had not responded to Mickey's and Goofy's attempts to revive him, so at last they had given up, determining that he would have to simply sleep it off. He did seem to be completely coherent now, which was a good thing.
He was an interesting person, actually—not at all what Mickey had been imagining. He seemed so cynical, as if he believed he had seen it all, and at the same time he’d had someone whom he cared about very much. He had not entirely shut himself away from everyone. In some way, he seemed so tired and sobered, too—as if he had made drastic mistakes in the past and had only recently begun to realize the extent of the damage. And that reminded the King of his old friend Ansem the Wise.
He studied the other thoughtfully. "Ya know, I've heard some other things about you," he said.
"Like what?" Sephiroth sounded disinterested, which he was. There were many throughout the worlds who had heard of him. And he knew most of what they heard.
"I heard that you were a really famous swordsman," Mickey replied, "and that you just up and disappeared once, after a battle with the Heartless. You changed after that and never went around as a hero again.”
“Yes,” Sephiroth said. “That is true.”
“People say you went away to train and you got so powerful that you could command the Heartless,” Mickey went on. “Only you don’t.”
“I have no use for them,” Sephiroth said.
“And people like Maleficent leave you alone.”
A dark smirk. “They know it would not go well for them if they bothered me.”
“Some people say you’re a being of darkness,” Mickey mused. “Others say you’re not.”
"It might be true," Sephiroth said noncommittally. "It might not be." So, he was back to playing mind-games again. Or maybe not. Somehow he had the feeling that the King was not fooled. Which was interesting, considering that most people ended up bewildered by his statements.
"Yup," Mickey said cheerfully. "It'd havta be one or the other."
Sephiroth grunted. "What's your point?" he asked.
Mickey sobered a bit. "I'm just sayin' that . . . well, if you got mixed up in some things you shouldn't have, I can understand that. I've had a couple friends who had that problem. Good people, they just got kinda twisted by their own darkness until they didn't know how to get out of the webs they'd made."
"It happens." And from Sephiroth's experience, one usually did not even fully come to realize what they had done until something shocking and completely unexpected occurred—such as someone they loved dying. But by then it was too late.
"What happened to these people?" he queried. It was not that he especially wanted to know. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity.
"Well, one of 'em decided that he was gonna overcome his darkness, but that he would havta accept it first, since it was just as much a part of him as his light side." Mickey smiled. "He's doin' really well now. I think he's found himself and really knows better how to live in the light."
"Good for him."
Now the mouse became serious again, the sadness obvious in his eyes. "And the other . . . well . . . he realized that he'd let his hurt feelings and his pride turn into hatred, and he sacrificed himself to try to do what he could in order to make up for his mistakes."
"Can one ever fully make up for anything?" Sephiroth remarked flatly. "What's done is done. Even if you regret your actions, you can't reverse them, no matter how you try to make your life better from that point on. The wounds caused to other people are still there."
Mickey bit his lip. "Yeah, that's true," he admitted slowly. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't change. You can still make a difference for good if you do."
"That's not what I'm saying," Sephiroth said. "Naturally one should try to mend their ways. But they shouldn't believe that everything will be alright if they do. They shouldn't forget about the people they brought down."
Mickey smiled gently. "Ya know, I think that if they really do change, they never could forget," he answered.
Sephiroth watched him closely. "Then what is the solution?"
The mouse narrowed his eyes, leaning back as he considered the other's question. Finally he looked back to the silver-haired man. "I'm not sure there really is any easy solution," he admitted. "I guess . . . all we can really do is live our lives the best we can, and try to do whatever we can do to make up for what we've done that's hurt others. I mean, it won't take away what we did to hurt them and all, but I think a lot of times it really does help to ease the pain, to know that we regret it." He smiled again, in a melancholy way. "I think, sometimes, that's all we can really give to people we've hurt—our regrets."
Sephiroth grunted. He supposed that was true. Regret, for him, was not good enough. And yet, if it was all he had to give, what more could he do? He despised such quandaries. Whenever possible, he wanted to be in control. In these cases, he always felt at a loss.
He looked back to Mickey, deciding to change the subject. ". . . If I did decide to overpower you and take your Keyblade, or if I succeeded, would that alter at all the way you give help to others in the future?"
The King blinked. "Well, it wouldn't make me stop helpin'," he said.
"I didn't think so. But do you honestly believe it's a good idea to extend such privileges to someone who is a possible threat to your kingdom?" The green-eyed man's expression never changed as he regarded the one with whom he was conversing. It was hard to figure out what was going through these people's minds. "It isn't as if all such beings will be suddenly, miraculously changed by being shown trust and kindness. Some of them will just use it to their advantage and exploit you."
"Yeah . . . I know," Mickey nodded. "We gotta be careful. But then again, sometimes you gotta take risks, too. That's what happens when you're sharin' your life with other people."
"Sometimes the results of the risks may be too grievous to bear."
"That's true. But you sound kinda like you're talkin' from an army general's point of view," Mickey commented. "I mean, all logical and strategical and that kinda thing. And that's good, we need those things," he smiled, and then paused before continuing.
"But sometimes, you just can't look at things logically. That's kinda one of the mistakes that one of my friends made. Everything to him was all about how it worked scientifically, and well, some things just can't be looked at like that 'cause they aren't scientific at all—like your different feelings. They can't be explained away, since a lot of times people don't even make logical decisions."
Sephiroth grunted. "I suppose." He had tried to train himself to operate on logic, and he had succeeded a good deal, until Zack had entered and turned his theories upsidedown. Zack had always been so filled with hope. Sephiroth had not been truly happy since that horrible day on the mountain when he had lost that boy.
And then on the other hand, when Sephiroth had started to let emotions get the better of him, he had become hateful and vengeful, determined to stop the Heartless at all costs no matter what he had to do to achieve that end. And it had ended up being not only them who he had hurt. Zack was lost because of him.
Sephiroth smirked grimly. Caring about someone could bring feelings of contentment or even happiness, but it could also bring down pain sharp as no other. Caring about anything could do that. Hence, how he had wound up letting himself become filled with hatred—it had started because of his outrage over what the Heartless were doing. And then he had crossed the line between anger and loathing. Zack had never deserved to be put through the anguish of watching Sephiroth tread that lonely road.
On the one hand, it seemed more wise to allow logic to rule over one's heart. On the other, that would not allow for something as off-the-wall to take place as he and Zack becoming almost like brothers. He could never explain how that had happened, and he would not even try.
He glanced back to Mickey, who was just sitting patiently while waiting for his reverie to conclude. "There aren't clear-cut answers for many things, it seems," he remarked now.
The mouse nodded. "But if ya stick to what makes ya truly happy, then I think you'll be okay," he said. "I mean, no one could be truly happy if they're causing someone else to be sad. Or even themselves."
Heh. Sephiroth could think of some people who would differ, even if they would only be deceiving themselves. But as for himself, he knew that he would not be happy or content if he had never let Zack into his life. Would Zack feel the same, though? After all that happened, maybe he wished he had never met Sephiroth.
Perhaps the bottom line was that one needed to stay in control of one's emotions, and to keep a good balance. But then the question still arose as to how that would be accomplished.
He lowered his head onto the pillow. Right now, after that long discussion and the queries raised, he was starting to feel tired again. But the last thing he wanted to do was to go to sleep when he was not alone. He wanted to ensure that he appeared strong.
"Still with the pride thing, Seph? Come on, anyone'd be ready to drop after what you've been through. You don't have to put on some big show, especially not for me." He could almost hear Zack saying that, watching him with a trademark smirk. He could never be fooled. It was an irritation at times, and yet also, oddly comforting—that someone could know so much about him and yet still care about him unconditionally.
As it turned out, Mickey also seemed able to see through any act Sephiroth was trying to put on. "I'll leave ya alone right now," he said as he jumped down from the chair, "and you can get some more rest."
"I'm not tired," Sephiroth said flatly. Though he had to admit that he was grateful for the other's departure, and the fact that the king had said nothing aloud if the winged man's exhaustion was that apparent. That saved him an unnecessary bruise to his ego.
"See ya!" Mickey called cheerfully as he walked out the door. "It's been nice talkin' with ya!" He shut the door behind him.
Sephiroth was asleep again before he quite realized it himself.
****
It was dark outside by the time Sephiroth found himself awakening again.
Slowly he pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking as he took in the barely visible room. The moon shining in from outside provided some light, as his eyes adjusted. He could make out the walls and the furniture, as well as something additional. He reached out, touching the black cloth of his coat. It had been draped on the chair, cleaned and mended for him—along with his armor.
He felt much more rested now, and hesitantly he began to push himself up into a kneeling position. Good . . . the dizziness was not coming back. Maybe he would be able to leave now. He had been gone since early afternoon in his world and Belle’s world. Did time move the same in this one too? Maybe back home, he had been missing much longer. He frowned.
Carefully he brought his legs out from under him, swinging them onto the marble floor. Then he leaned over, switching on the lamp by the bedside. He blinked again. The light stung his eyes as it filled the quiet space. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before taking hold of his coat and pulling it over to him.
He laid it across his lap, fingering the places where the arrows had entered. Save for the thread he could feel in those locations, there was not any way to tell that the cloth had been broken. And there was no indication of the red that had been generously decorating it a few hours ago. Someone had obviously spent quite a while fixing it up.
These were good people, he mused to himself. Hopelessly idealistic, but good. They’d had no reason for it, yet still they had treated him with nothing but kindness. They deserved his respect, even though his logical side could not fully agree with their views. If the day came when he could repay them for what they had done, he would be certain to do it. But for now he needed to get home.
He leaned over slightly, grabbing for his thigh-length boots. His back screamed at him, and he eased his upper body straight again as he pulled on the boots and fumbled aimlessly with the buckles. But he was too worn out to bother with them. They were mostly for decoration anyway.
Draping the coat over one arm, he took hold of the bedpost and began to ease himself upright. His back demanded that he stop, reminding him of the wounds that had been inflicted. And the injuries joined voices, agony shooting through his body courtesy of their complaints. But he gritted his teeth, continuing to rise until he was completely up. He would not allow those wounds to control him. He was going to leave, and that was that.
The room teetered as he spread open his coat and began to slowly pull his arms into the skintight sleeves. Maybe if he shut his eyes, the vertigo would go away. Would he really have enough strength to get back home? What if he ended up in some other dimension? No . . . he was stronger now than he had been when he had teleported here. He would make it back.
He opened his eyes again when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he called, picking up his gloves from the nightstand. Pulling them on, he gathered up the armor and tucked it under his arm. He could not take the time or the effort to try to affix it right now. That was strength he would need to put towards teleporting to Radiant Garden.
The door opened, and King Mickey stepped inside. "I saw the light under the door, so I figured you were up and fixing to leave," he greeted.
Sephiroth nodded. "I am." He took hold of the Masamune, which had been propped against the nearby wall.
“You’re sure about that?” Mickey asked in concern. “You said you don’t really have anybody worryin’ about ya. What if you need help when you get back?”
Sephiroth paused. It was a legitimate question. “Are you suggesting I stay on here longer?”
“At least overnight,” Mickey said. “Maybe longer if you’re still not feelin’ well. I hate to think of sendin’ you out there when there’s nobody to help when you’re hurt.”
“I don’t want to impose,” Sephiroth said.
“It wouldn’t be imposin’!” Mickey insisted, as Sephiroth was really sure he would. “We want you to stay.”
“Really?” Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow. “Would that be all of you?”
Mickey flushed a bit. “Well . . .”
“I’m sure Donald wants me to leave,” Sephiroth said mildly.
“He wouldn’t want you to go off hurt either,” Mickey insisted.
“I wouldn’t care!” Donald retorted from the doorway, his arms folded and his expression a storm cloud.
“Oh, now, Donald, you know you don’t mean that,” Goofy drawled. “You were worried about him when he fainted too!”
“I wasn’t,” Donald scowled.
Mickey chuckled awkwardly. “We’d really appreciate it if you’d stay,” he said. “You might feel a lot better in the morning.”
Finally Sephiroth nodded. He really didn’t have a reason to rush on back home and Mickey was probably right that staying on would be wise. “Alright,” he said. “Just until then.”
“And you’re welcome to have some dinner, if you feel up to it,” Mickey continued.
“Thank you,” Sephiroth said. “I might like something. But I would prefer to eat it in here.”
“Of course!” Mickey smiled. “We wouldn’t think of making you sit up to a long banquet table right now.”
Donald rolled his eyes, even though he really knew that of course that wouldn’t be expected with anyone who had been badly wounded that day.
With his decision made, Sephiroth again took off his boots and laid back down on the bed. He had to admit this felt good. It was really the best choice for him right now.
Mickey smiled, leading Goofy and Donald back out of the room. “Come on, fellas.” They would let Sephiroth rest.
****
When the food arrived, Sephiroth roused up a bit and was surprised to see it was Donald coming in with it. The duck was giving him a deathglare, which wasn’t surprising from him. “Here you go,” he snapped, wheeling the tray over to the bed.
“Thank you,” Sephiroth replied. He rose up on an elbow and reached for the plate.
Donald stepped back, still watching him with suspicious eyes.
“I’m not in any condition to try to topple your kingdom,” Sephiroth flatly remarked. “I wouldn’t anyway.”
“I don’t trust you!” Donald retorted. “I never will.”
“While I don’t doubt that, you seem far too venomous if this is just about our past encounter,” Sephiroth said. “Is there something else?” Had he met Donald somewhere in the past and forgotten? Had he inadvertently wronged someone close to him?
Donald scowled and folded his arms. “I just don’t like you,” he muttered.
“Why?” Sephiroth asked.
“Uncle Scrooge talked about you,” Donald replied. “He lives in your world. He owns part of it.”
“I don’t remember bothering him,” Sephiroth said. “He’s in the culinary business, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Donald said. “He said one of your fights with Cloud almost demolished one of his businesses!”
Sephiroth frowned at that. “I never let that happen,” he said. “If we’re getting too close to someone’s home or business, I teleport us out.”
“Well . . .” Donald kept glowering anyway. “He was still upset about it. He said you could have hurt Huey, Dewey, and Louie.”
Now it made sense. Sephiroth frowned more, looking down at his plate. “I would never do that on purpose,” he said quietly. “I do remember those boys. I told Cloud we had to either stop fighting or move somewhere else. He didn’t agree until he saw them as well. I would have teleported us out if he hadn’t agreed, but I wanted to give him the chance to make the right decision.”
Donald peered at him. “Is that so?”
Sephiroth looked up again. “Yes,” he said firmly, without hesitation. “And Cloud will confirm it if you ask him. At least about my telling him we had to stop because of the children. I would doubt he would believe why I was concerned.”
“Why were you?” Donald retorted.
“I’m not a monster,” Sephiroth said.
“Hmph,” said Donald.
But he acted noticeably less hostile after that.
“. . . How did you get your wings?” he asked after a long moment of silence. “Humans don’t usually have them.”
“They grew from my pride as a hero,” Sephiroth said. He didn’t usually talk about it, but it had been known in the past.
“Do you like them?” Donald asked.
“Yes,” Sephiroth said. He felt he no longer deserved them, but he still loved them.
“You take care of them well,” Donald had to grudgingly admit.
Sephiroth nodded. “Thank you.” They required a lot of care, but it was worth it. Along with his hair, they were, he felt, his most distinctive features. People across worlds knew that when large, dark blue feathers dropped, he was there.
“Why don’t you still go around as a hero?” Donald eyed him suspiciously again.
“I . . . prefer to work from the shadows now,” Sephiroth replied. He was not going to go into all the particulars with someone he barely knew who didn’t like him.
Donald didn’t look less suspicious. “What do you do in the shadows?”
“I am still a hero at heart,” Sephiroth said. “I am not plotting everyone’s destruction.” It felt almost strange to admit it. For so long now he had just let people think what they would about him. But now, here, he had revealed several of his most deeply-held secrets.
“You’re like Batman?” Donald eyed the bat wing cuffs and the flared hem of Sephiroth’s coat as it lay draped on a chair.
Sephiroth had to smirk. “I think that’s the first time anyone has ever called me that. I won’t say they’re wrong.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re right, either,” Donald retorted.
Sephiroth gestured slightly with his hand as if to concede the point. “Well,” he said, still smirking, “if I really was Batman, I’d hardly admit it. Hm. . . . Actually, with my powers, I’m probably closer to Superman.”
“You’re overpowered like Superman, but you’re not like him in personality,” Donald said.
“I can’t disagree there,” Sephiroth said. “He’s far too idealistic. We both know cynicism is much more realistic, don’t we?”
Donald’s eyes darted from side to side. While it was true that he was more pessimistic than his friends, deep down he still believed in hope. Not to mention he didn’t want to agree with Sephiroth on anything.
Sephiroth took the silence as an opportunity to quietly ponder on things himself. He had used to believe in hope. As a hero, he had brought hope and joy across the realms. But more and more, he had become cynical and unhappy when he had seen the suffering of others and the ingratitude of some. Those feelings had only increased after the Heartless had begun demolishing worlds, including his own. And after his reckless, foolish behavior had caused Zack to be lost and possibly killed, any idealism he’d had left had laid down and died.
Or had it?
He still looked for Zack, refusing to believe he was gone even after he had fallen off a cliff with Heartless. What could be more hopeful and idealistic than that? He was clearly just in denial of the truth. But even knowing that, he couldn’t make himself give up and decide Zack was dead.
“I’m going now,” Donald suddenly said.
Sephiroth came back to the present. “Oh? I thought you wanted to watch me and make sure I didn’t get up to something.”
“You probably won’t,” Donald said gruffly. “But I’ll catch you if you try!”
“Hm,” said Sephiroth. “Was our conversation too much for you?”
Donald scowled. “I just don’t feel like talking to you anymore,” he said.
“Then very well,” Sephiroth said with a calm gesture. “I most certainly don’t expect you to stay.”
Donald gave a firm nod and marched to the door. There, however, he paused and looked back. “You really meant it about Huey, Dewey, and Louie?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sephiroth said, just as firmly.
Donald looked like he was debating with himself. Finally he said, “Then you’re not so bad after all.”
“Thank you,” Sephiroth grunted.
****
The night passed peacefully, with Sephiroth settling down for a good sleep after the meal. When he awoke in the morning, he was burrowed in both the soft quilt and his wings, and he seemed to feel much better. His back still hurt, but he doubted he would have trouble making it home now.
He accepted breakfast before making the attempt. Mickey and the others were there to see him off.
“You’re sure you’re okay to leave now?” Mickey asked in concern.
“Yes,” Sephiroth said. “I’ll make it home safely thanks to the care I received here.”
"Good. I’m glad,” Mickey smiled. “Is there anything we can get you before you go?"
"No, thank you. What you've already done is enough." He turned to face the other, looking down into the cheerful eyes. "I'll find a way to repay you."
Mickey blinked. "Oh no!" he exclaimed. "You don't havta do that."
"I always pay back my debts," Sephiroth answered.
The mouse smiled. "Well, the next time you find someone who needs help, you can repay us by helping them," he said. "Just pass it along."
Heh. That sounded like something that an idealist would say. Sephiroth was not surprised. He nodded slowly. "Very well."
Mickey looked him up and down, the tiredness in his eyes not lost on the ruler. "Will you be able to get back safe?" he asked. "You still look pretty give-in."
"I will be able to." But he would not lie to himself. Once he got back, he would need to rest.
Mickey nodded slowly. It would be pointless to try to convince him otherwise; his heart was made up. "I guess this is goodbye, then," he said, and held up his hand.
Twenty-four hours ago, Sephiroth had never imagined that he would be shaking hands with King Mickey. But now he reached down, grasping the hand firmly for a brief moment.
“It was nice havin’ ya here!” Goofy said. “Sorry it had to be when you were hurt.”
“Perhaps someday we’ll meet under better circumstances,” Sephiroth said. “I’m sure Donald would like to visit his uncle and his nephews.”
Donald grunted but nodded.
“We’ll come out sometime then!” Goofy said.
Sephiroth nodded and stepped back to concentrate his powers on forming a portal. Creating a portal took immense willpower to do, especially when he was wounded, and it was all he could do to not start focusing on the pain instead. It was certainly vying for his attention the longer he worked, and he could feel beads of perspiration sliding down his face. But he ignored that as well.
Hopefully he would go where he actually meant to, instead of teleporting to Cloud's, or the Restoration Committee's, or even someone's bathtub.
There, the portal was taking shape now. It was glowing as it started to open, enveloping him within it. He was going home.
. . . Or almost home, anyway. He found that he was indeed sending himself to Cloud’s instead. He fell out of the portal and landed on Cloud’s rickety porch swing with a surprised flap of all three wings. Feathers flew.
“Ugh,” he muttered to himself.
Sighing, he laid back on the swing. He didn’t feel like walking home right now. Maybe he would just rest instead. He pulled the throw pillow to him and dozed.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when the sudden sound of footsteps on the stairs and the porch startled him awake again. Cloud was hurrying over in disbelief. “What are you doing on my swing?!” he demanded.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Cloud?” Sephiroth retorted. Maybe he would have rather stayed at the Disney Castle after all.
“You’re taking a nap on it,” Cloud shot back. “But why?!”
“I’m tired,” Sephiroth said flatly.
“There has to be more to it than that!” Cloud’s voice was rising. “I’ve been all over the place looking for you and then I come and just find you crashing here!”
“Looking?” Sephiroth repeated. “You were looking for me? Why?”
“I . . .” Cloud flamed red and looked away. “Well, no one had seen you and I just . . . wondered where you were. I mean . . .” His wing started twitching in his embarrassment.
Sephiroth stared at him. “You were worried about me?!”
“No!” Cloud snapped.
“Really, Cloud, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sephiroth said smoothly, even as he was reeling.
“I’d never be worried about you!” Cloud insisted. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t bothering someone else!”
That sounded like Cloud, and yet . . . it didn’t match his sudden awkward attitude from a few moments earlier. Sephiroth wasn’t convinced.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said with a smirk. “I always save the majority of my time and attention for you alone.”
Cloud went beet-red again. He turned away with a snort. “If anybody ever heard you say things like that . . . !”
“That would be so terrible?” He laid back on the swing, regarding Cloud in amusement.
“Of course it would be terrible! It would be a disaster! Ugh.” Cloud scowled at him. “Get off my swing! At least come inside if you’re going to lay on something. I mean . . .” He slapped his forehead. “Just . . . come lay on the couch.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“Hm. Well, I can’t deny the couch would be more comfortable.” Sephiroth sat up and slowly began to get off the swing. Would he be able to do it without revealing he was injured?
At first he thought he could. He pushed himself off the swing and stood. He felt stiff, but it was manageable. He reached for the Masamune and held it behind him as he usually did. But as he moved to follow Cloud inside, all three wings began brushing against either the exterior wall of the house or Cloud.
Cloud did not look pleased. “Why don’t you fold that up?” he frowned, indicating the largest wing.
Sephiroth moved to do so and his eyes flickered in pain. It hurt less keeping it fully extended. But he hardly wanted to knock half of Cloud’s furniture over, so he forced himself to fold it.
Cloud opened the door, watching Sephiroth suspiciously. The older man went in and over to the couch, propping the Masamune against the wall behind it before beginning to lower himself to the couch.
“Something’s not right,” Cloud said. “You’re too stiff. You’re usually a lot more fluid and graceful than this.”
An amused smirk. “Really, Cloud, I didn’t think you noticed.”
“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” Cloud persisted, deciding to ignore the crack for once.
Sephiroth fell silent a moment. “I wasn’t going to bother you with it,” he said at last. “Just let me rest a while and then I’ll leave.” He pulled the couch pillow to him.
Cloud frowned a bit. “How bad is it?”
“Not bad. It’s just inconvenient.” Sephiroth started to relax. The couch was old and falling apart, but it was soft.
Cloud watched him slowly drift to sleep. “You’ll get feathers stuck in the couch again,” he muttered.
Sephiroth just lay there, all wings beginning to twitch as he dreamed.
“. . . And you’ll probably be cold. You know it’s drafty in here.” Cloud hesitated, then grabbed a throw from a nearby chair. Still scowling, he gently draped it over Sephiroth.
Sephiroth pulled it closer to him. It was definitely appreciated.
Sighing, Cloud straightened and went into his room.
What a weird day.