04. [ μ ] – εуλ 1991 / January

Paperwork. The bane of his existence.

General Sephiroth, SOLDIER First Class, stared unseeingly at the twenty-two inch stack of potential cadet applications in front of him. It was fortunate that there were so many men—and women, rare they were—interested in enlisting in the SOLDIER recruitment program. What wasn't fortunate was that Sephiroth had to sort through each and every one—meticulously, as both his nature and rank obligations commanded it—and determine whom were viable candidates.

Thus far he had gone through 496 applications (one-fourth of the files overall) and his right hand was cramping from the constant motions of writing, circling, striking. His eyes burned, his back ached, and the migraine that had formed sometime yesterday had amplified to an unbearable degree. Not even a potion had helped. He doubted anything other than an interruption from paperwork would.

He drew a large X over the file he was reading (#497 - Maspith, Jef; Junon citizen; male; age 16; 170cm; 342 lbs—REJECT, doesn't fit the physical fitness qualification requirements) and restrained the urge to shove the entire heap off his desk, consequence be damned. Instead, he settled for slamming the file on top of the rejected pile hard enough for his desk to creak.

"My friend, the fates are cruel," the interloper seated on the window ledge recited aloud, breaking his concentration and exacerbating his temper.

Sephiroth leveled a frigid stare at the other SOLDIER First Class. "Genesis, shut up."

He heard the sound of a book snapping shut, the ruffle of clothing, the thud of boots hitting tile, and finally, footsteps approaching.

"All that awaits you is a somber morrow; no matter where the winds may blow. And to think I'd once coveted your job," the Commander said with a rueful shake of his head before sliding into a chair, one knee crossing over the other. "Infinite in mystery…"

Sephiroth felt his fingers twitch and forcefully stilled them. He wasn't sure whether it was a good thing Masamune was not within arm's reach. After a moment of consideration he decided it definitely was. The amount of paperwork he'd have to fill out if he were to kill a fellow SOLDIER First Class without probable cause simply wouldn't be worth it.

(Regardless what the small voice in the back of his head was telling him.)

"You should take a break," Genesis' sly voice broke through his musings. "Just for an hour or two. Surely it would only help."

In other words, Genesis was bored and wanted to spar.

Sephiroth had to use every iota of self-restraint he possessed not to bite. As good as a break sounded—doing anything, he didn't care what as long as it didn't involve paperwork—he knew he couldn't allow himself even that small cessation. He could accomplish a lot in an hour, and the quicker he finished and sent his selections off to Lazard, the quicker he could request a potentially dangerous mission far, far away from Midgar.

"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. Perhaps after I've finished all of this."

Genesis snorted. "Next month, then?"

He considered it a commendable show of self-restraint that he only glared scathingly at the man and not acted on the many other urges pushing for prominence, all of which would have gotten him a court martial. At the very least.

His friend sighed. Sephiroth heard him open his book—LOVELESS, like always—and the room descended into a semi-comfortable silence. With a resigned grunt, he turned his gaze to his work.

#498 - Bryghm, Storm; Midgar citizen; male; age 14; 170 cm; 124 lbs — REJECT.

#499 - Houmi, Augustus; Gongaga citizen; male; age 15; 173cm; 162 lbs — APPROVE.

#500 - Cain, Kayli; Costa del Sol citizen; female; age 17; 179 cm; 136 lbs — APPROVE.

#501 - Zephus, Siean; N. Corel citizen; male; age 16; 182 cm; 190 lbs — REJECT.

#502 - Gale, Peter; N. Corel citizen; male; age 18; 164 cm; 115 lbs — REJECT.

#503 - Strife, Cloud—

Sephiroth paused.

He stared at the name for a moment, uncertain if he'd read that correctly. But no, the name at the top of the page clearly stated 'Strife, Cloud; Midgar citizen' and Sephiroth flipped to the second page without another thought, half-expecting to find a photo of someone else unfortunate enough to be saddled with the surname Strife.

Incomprehensibly, a familiar face peered up at him from the slip of plastic. It was definitely Strife. Even if he had sheared his hair off and painted his skin brown, Sephiroth would know those eyes anywhere. The boy in the picture was glaring, sky blue eyes narrowed in stubborn defiance, as if daring ShinRa to reject him. He somehow looked even paler against the dark grey backdrop, his skin paper white beneath a shock of chocobo-yellow hair.

For minutes Sephiroth simply stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. What this meant. Strife, the slum urchin, the pickpocket, had filed a SOLDIER application. Strife, the boy who couldn't be bothered to thank him for saving his life and then went on to try and steal from him—twice, wanted entry into the SOLDIER program. Wanted to be a SOLDIER.

It was a good thing Genesis was too absorbed in re-reading LOVELESS to witness his reaction.

Slowly, Sephiroth turned to the first page and skimmed his stats.

Strife, Cloud.

Cloud? Sephiroth thought with a snort before continuing.

Midgar Citizen. Male. Age 15. 159 cm. 98 lbs.

Despite being rather small for his age (really small; Sephiroth had thought him to be much younger than he was) he checked out. He had no living relatives which according to ShinRa, made for an ideal candidate. Less ties and distractions, was the proffered reasoning. More like, no one to kick up a fuss when the soldier eventually goes missing or dies, either in action or courtesy of the science department.

The mandated physical examination had revealed no history of substance abuse, mako or otherwise, which was especially rare for one living beneath the plate. No STDs, chronic diseases, illnesses, or infections. No debilitating injuries. The results of his psychiatric evaluation were adequate; he exhibited signs of anti-social behavior, aggression, and slight paranoia—none of which were uncommon for slummers—but that was the worst of it, and nothing that couldn't be minimalized, if not quelled, with time.

Sephiroth noted that kleptomania hadn't been listed. Not that he was particularly surprised.

Strife didn't quite meet the fitness criteria, but that could be attributed to his lifestyle. He hadn't performed so terribly in the fitness assessment that, with a diet meeting all his caloric and nutritional needs and a vigorous regimen targeting his weak areas, he couldn't bring himself up to standards if he exerted himself. It wouldn't be easy, but then, the program was specifically designed so that it wouldn't be.

After all, ShinRa had no use for unqualified, unexceptional SOLDIERs.

Fingers tapping against his desk, Sephiroth re-read his file once more, branding the details to his memory. After a moment he lifted his red marker and let it hover over the first page, uncharacteristically uncertain as to how he should proceed.

He should reject him, he knew. Thrice now the boy had demonstrated vices unsuitable for SOLDIER candidates. Turks, indubitably, but not SOLDIER. Of course, joining the program was the only feasible, and legal, method of capturing the Turks' attention…

With that thought, Sephiroth added another tick to the approve category, even if the thought of Strife joining the Turks made something undefinable clench unpleasantly in his stomach.

I should reject him for the sake of our equipment if nothing else, he mused with a touch of reluctant amusement. That Strife was a verified thief who'd no doubt cause the company problems in the future should definitely concern him more than it currently was. If he was bold enough to steal from Sephiroth, a SOLDIER, then it stood to reason he'd have no qualms against thieving from bigger monsters; namely ShinRa Inc.

Allowing a thief into the ranks could be a potential disaster.

But undesirable habits can be broken, Sephiroth thought with peculiar obstinacy as he gave into the impulse to look at Strife's photo again. What he saw there is what tipped the scales, and without another thought Sephiroth turned to the first page and scrawled, APPROVE.

For better or worse, he wanted Strife in the program. He wanted to see the extent of his capabilities outside of petty thieving, wanted to see whether he'd rise above the harsh conditions and harsher expectations, or if he'd shatter like so many others had. Wanted to know if his interest in Strife was misplaced.

"You've been handling that file for nearly ten minutes now," Genesis' voice cut through his cogitation. When he looked up, the man was staring inquisitively at him, his book abandoned on his lap. "Someone interesting?" he hazarded. "Must be if they've caught your eye."

Knowing that Genesis' curiosity would only intensify if left ignored and feeling curiously disinclined to tell his friend about Strife, Sephiroth prevaricated with, "Perhaps." He then slid the file into the center of the pile just in case Genesis got it in his head to investigate.

It would also keep his urge to constantly check the boy's application at bay.

Not that he acknowledged it as such.

to be continued.

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. This is the second version of the chapter and I'm still not happy with it. Unfortunately the only thing that'll help is some breathing space, so I'll come back to edit it sometime soon. I apologize if it flows awkwardly and will gladly take suggestions to improve it if anyone has any.

Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who took to the time to leave a comment and add the story to their favorites. You guys are great. Thanks for reading! Ciaossu!