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Sephiroth was eager to return to Midgar.
Such a bizarre thing to realize, truly, yet a feeling he couldn't deny, his emerald eyes fixed on the looming shape of ShinRa Tower as his ride approached the helipad. He couldn't even remember the last time he had bothered staring out the window, let alone so intensely and for so long. His gaze was almost always tethered to a newspaper or book for the duration of these trips, vaguely listening to the mechanical hum of the engine, hardly even aware of when they had returned. It was always the sudden voice of the pilot who'd rein him back to awareness, at last breaking the trip's worth of crushing, itchy silence. And Sephiroth would simply be annoyed that he couldn't finish his chapter in time.
The helicopter began its descent, its large metal nose dipping towards the landing, and gloved hands tightened their grip on the thick blue novel in his lap.
The bookmark hadn't been moved a single page.
"Something on your mind, General?" the pilot ventured, perhaps having heard the slight crease of the lamination. His expression remained concealed under the SOLDIER-issued helmet. "You seem rather restless."
Sephiroth never peeled his gaze away from the window, unable to fight the gravitational tug on his lips. "Heh... I'm fine, SOLDIER," he smirked, and a force just as irresistible compelled him to continue with, "Merely relieved to be back."
He heard a quiet chuckle. "Long mission, huh, Sir?"
Sephiroth hummed, taking a thoughtful moment to consider his response. "On some levels, yes."
But even that was a bit of a stretch, because the solo mission truly wasn't all that strenuous, even if it had lasted for well over a week. Monitoring Wutai and ensuring the land's stability didn't take a mammoth amount of energy, especially with how many natives avoided interacting with him in general, dancing a delicate line between not disturbing the native's peace and keeping himself engaged in volatile, monster-spawning area.
His smirk broadened.
"...But I'm not too fatigued."
The SOLDIER nodded, either out of understanding or politeness. "Well, it's good to have you back, Sir. We're all glad you're home."
Home...
The word reverberated in Sephiroth's mind, over and over. Again and again. For a moment, the helicopter seemed so far away, his entire world tapering down into a cavelike strip, his entire mind dissolving into that single echo of thought. All that seemed to remain was the window, the cityscape beyond. Midgar. His genesis. The place where he was raised, educated, nourished, and where his earliest memories were born. The cell, the lab, the training room, the operating table... A dirge of different memories and nightmares, a horrid song that had kept him up for nights upon nights. He had never even considered the notion that Midgar, ShinRa, was his home, even if that's where his supposed roots were planted. The thought was simply too tainted, too soiled by those wretched memories. He didn't ever want to admit that such a place was where he belonged, where he was supposed to be—tethered, trapped, imprisoned.
And yet...
"We're here, Sir!"
Snapping back to the present, Sephiroth practically darted towards the exit door.
There was the usual crowd of SOLDIERs flocking by the helipad, a decent majority of them new recruits who wanted to catch a glimpse of the "prized" SOLDIER returning, the others a meld of reporters, cameramen, and SOLDIERs of varying ranks. The choppy whir of the helicopter blades rippled through the air as Sephiroth stepped out, silver ribbons billowing around him, emerald eyes scanning the concourse. Stars flashed before his eyes, snapping from cameras and cell phones, beading his vision with constellations of color.
He barely even flinched.
"Hey, General...!"
"General...! Welcome back..."
"Over here...!"
He just pressed on, wading through the parting sea, still scanning the crowded waters.
"He's looking at me...!"
"Oh my...!"
"General! General...!"
"SEPH...!"
Sephiroth's eyes came alight.
"General...!"
"Oh...! Is he smiling...?!"
"He's smiling...!"
"Holy, you're right...!"
"Oh man, Seph...!"
"General! Let's capture that smile...!"
"It just grew tenfold...!"
"Holy, this is a miracle...!"
"Bud...!"
And there he was, the splay of black spikes bursting through the crowd, those bright blue eyes widening to starry saucers as Zack rushed forward, his smile luminous, rushing and rushing and—
"Budddddyyyyyy!"
—springing into the man's arms, nearly bowling Sephiroth over with sheer momentum of his lunge, nearly leaping ten feet into the air all the while.
"Oh, Seph...!"
The crowd gasped.
They squealed.
They screamed.
The cameras flashed in a dizzying spectacle of light, flaring and snapping against the amber evening, attempting to capture the sheer majesty of the moment, the sheer miraculousness and incredulity.
"OH MY GOD...!"
"GET THIS! GET THIS LIVE...!"
Not that anything could ever capture the wondrous, intangible, magical warmth that blossomed in Sephiroth's heart as he enveloped Zack in turn, his shoulders bobbing with chuckles, his world a small isle amid of the sea, his chin pillowing against the bed of harmless, feathery spikes.
His smile melted to dough.
"Zack..."
He was finally home.