Disclaimers: F/GO and FF7 are not mine, just this fic.

Chapter 2: A Day (1)

When Sephiroth opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was destruction.

He stood infront of a city, crumbling buildings and rubbles alike littering the ground. He could hear nothing, the absence of sound making the somber atmosphere eerie. There was no wind and no movements, just Sephiroth, standing on the wreckage.

Perhaps Sephiroth should feel pity, appropriate to mourn a ruined city and the life that it must have harbored before such a terrible thing happened, but all Sephiroth felt was hollowness and weariness. It felt like his body weighed a hundred tons more than his normal body weight, and Sephiroth felt stifled by it, but he paid it no heed.

When he raised his arm, he blinked when a large sword came into view that he held tightly in his hands. He frowned as he examined the sword—a broadsword type, and when the setting sun rays hit it, it glinted in different angles. When he looked more closely, he determined that the sword was a set of different types of blades interlocked together, to make one huge broadsword. It was an ingenious idea, but Sephiroth doesn't remember acquiring such a sword.

It was then that he noticed the hand that was gripping the hilt. He knew at first glance that it wasn't his hand. His hands were thin and slender, pale in color like the rest of his skin, with very few calluses. Some female scientist even called it 'dainty', much to Sephiroth's embarrassment. But the hand infront of him was slightly tanned, with quite thick fingers and clear calluses on the pad and underneath the fingers, and Sephiroth knew that the hands must have went through battle after battle, for years on end, nonstop.

And then the surroundings burst into flames.

Blue flames, to be exact.

The flames spread very fast, and before Sephiroth could move back to avoid it, the flames engulfed him. He flinched, expecting to be burned alive, but there was no pain. His flesh didn't sizzle like burned meat; the flames merely licked on his skin and danced atop it.

When he was about to touch the flame in his forearm with a hesitant finger, he noticed that his other hand was covered in armor. Dark armor that the knights like those in fairy tale books always wore. His other arm that held the sword was also no longer bare, but similarly covered in dark vambraces. There were stylish spikes that protruded from it, and his hands were now too, covered in dark metal gauntlets.

Then there was the sword. No longer was it the enormous broadsword—it was replaced by a longsword, with a flaming skull motif as the pommel, partially covered by an indigo cloth that looped three times around the hilt and once around the upper part of the blade itself, next to the guard; the fuller was pristine white with a royal golden design, and the blade was a clear obsidian black. There were flecks of splattered red that he knew to be blood which could never be removed. The blade itself burned blue as well.

Bemused by what exactly was happening, he lifted his head only to see that the wreckage was replaced by a bare mountain. The mountain stretched all the way up, looming and very much menacing.

Crows squawked in the distance and dry air swept the tattered dark hood that he wore after his armor. He felt his face covered by something, because he couldn't feel the wind hitting his cheeks, and his vision had become limited, as if looking through a hole.

A white feather obstructed his eyes.

Vividly, he could hear the bell tolling.

Sephiroth snapped his eyes open in panic, jumping up from his comfortable bed and sitting up, trying to even out his breathing. He wiped his forehead and found it lightly perspiring, before he slid out from the covers slowly and put on the indoor slippers beside the bed. He was in his pajamas and not in some wreckage or mountain, he tried to reason with himself.

The content of the dream was utterly unfamiliar—from the wrecked place, to the broadsword, to the armor and longsword, to the mountain—he had never seen any of them once in his life before. Sephiroth's memory was exceptional, and was praised by both Professor Gast and Professor Hojo to be photographic.

He opened the arched French doors that connected towards his room's personal balcony. The dawn has just broken, making his arrival perfect for a view of the sunrise. The cool breeze only lightened his mood further, and he leaned on the white railings, drawing a breath and trying to forget the disturbing dream.

He had been inside Nibelheim for five days now, and those five days were the best five days of his life so far. He was free to do anything as he wished, the people were warm and caring towards him, there was no sterile rooms to be locked up for the whole night and day, no forced battle that he didn't like and had to undergo, no painful injections that made him loopy and extremely uncomfortable, like he didn't own even his own skin. Nibelheim was a wonderland, a sparkling dream that was real and not a product of his imagination.

Suddenly, a huge explosion wracked a small earthquake across Nibelheim, and birds evacuated in indignant squawking.

Sephiroth sighed again, this time in exasperation. Of course, he should've expected that.

Nibelheim was anything but peaceful, and some heroic spirits were active 24/7 since they didn't need to sleep. Sephiroth wished they could sleep, so that no explosions in the unholy time of three a.m. would occur, or the castle he was staying in suddenly cleaved in half and somebody out there would apologize sheepishly because it was an accident, or the sound of something splatting on the ground that clearly had free-fallen from somewhere high up, followed by a scream about Lancers apparently dying?

Sephiroth scrunched his nose in confusion at that, but he had long accepted that heroic spirits were weird people. There was never a time when they all gathered for dinner that hadn't evolved into a lethal food fight. Sephiroth's evading skills had only upped, as did his parrying skills using the utensils he had on hand like a fork or a bread knife.

From what Sephiroth could tell, this was a result of when people with various strong personalities were to share a single space; considering that half of them were the authority figure during the time when they were alive, it was only a given that no one would listen to anyone, and none would accept defeat lying down. At least they don't die even when mortally wounded.

"WHY. IS. THE. POWER. OUT!" A female voice screamed in extreme hatred, followed by a male voice placating the female one, rather unsuccessfully too. Sephiroth watched in silent amusement as Gudako marched away from below the castle towards a certain direction where the explosion came from, followed by her twin, Gudao, who scrambled after her. To prevent a bloodbath, maybe?

Now that Gudako had mentioned it, there was indeed a black out. He looked at his room's small chandelier, which had flickered once and finally died out.

He walked back in on his room and closed the doors, blocking it with the velvet curtains so he could change his clothes. He had decided on a simple black pullover that was one size too big just the way Sephiroth liked it, and white cargo shorts. After tying his hair into a ponytail, he fitted his feet in the black sports shoes that was available in the built-in walk-in-closet in the room, which was filled with clothes his size, a whole rack of shoes and slippers, and different types of accessories tucked inside a wall of cabinets.

It was clear that the one who picked clothes for him most definitely went all out, and that there were multiple people involved for that task. He had clothes too flamboyant, female clothes like dresses which was explained to him that it was so that Sephiroth had varieties, clothes that were casual like the ones he had worn now, clothes that were formal, winter clothes, summer clothes, beach swimwear, school uniforms from different schools which Sephiroth most definitely did not attend, mystic coded clothes from Chaldea, and… onesies.

He knew who put that last one, and he didn't dare ask anyone why Jaguar Man of all people was one of those who picked up clothes for his wardrobe, but admittedly, he liked the texture of the onesies. He was skeptical if it was still Jaguar Man with the Lion onesie, though, since King Artoria had looked away guiltily when he showed it infront of her.

Nonetheless, he was truly spoiled by the heroic spirits here, giving everything Sephiroth needs, and the ones from the rare times that he'd ask for something. He felt greedy from it, and when he opened that up, Gudako had lectured him long and hard that it was okay for him to want for such things, and that he only felt that because some people had denied you too much so that you'd want nothing, she had spat bitterly and furiously. She'd scooped him in a hug afterwards, and it turned into a group hug again when Gudao and Mash came in to see the scene.

When Sephiroth managed to make his way down the mess hall, a training wooden sword secured on his hip by a black leather belt, he saw that there was no one in there yet. The smell coming from the adjoining great kitchen had wafted in however, and he knew that EMIYA must have an early day again to fill the stomachs of some heroic spirits who were interested to eat in the morning.

He headed to the kitchen, observing EMIYA flipping a pancake over medium fire. There were already several finished dishes on the kitchen counter, and Sephiroth pattered towards the counter, climbing up on the high stool.

A fresh steaming chocolate was placed in front of him, and he looked up to see EMIYA smiling down at him, "Good morning, sneaky guy."

Sephiroth couldn't help but let a giggle slip out, before he slapped a palm on his mouth, "Good morning."

EMIYA smirked at him, placing two soufflé pancakes, covered lightly in powdered sugar and a whipped cream on the side. There's also sliced apples and fresh strawberries on another small plate for him to consume.

"Eat your fill, you'll need it. Arthur and Musashi will be teaching you in swordsmanship until lunch. You still haven't found the right sword?" EMIYA advised as he continued cooking, half of his attention towards Sephiroth as the child ate gleefully.

Sephiroth shook his head in lieu of answering the second question, before he perked up, "King Arthur? The biologically male one?"

"That one, yes." EMIYA snorted good-naturedly, "He dropped by yesterday, but he'll probably be going away again after three days. Musashi will be leaving tomorrow though. Okita will replace her but will most likely continue Musashi's regimen."

"Both Musashi and King Arthur travel a lot to other alternate worlds, right?" Sephiroth asked after he finished chewing, "I wonder what it's like? Is it very different from here?"

"That would be their story to tell, but I'm sure it is." EMIYA heated up the girdle and poured oil on it, "As an employee of Alaya, I've been to quite a few alternate worlds myself, not as many as Musashi and Arthur though. Despite Gaia following her fate, humanity always does something different in every world, which makes every alternate world unique."

When the pan had heated up, EMIYA deep-fried a batch of cheese-stuffed bacon rolls, "Artoria for example. You see a lot of different versions of her here, right?"

Sephiroth nodded, remembering the types of King Artoria that he met during his stay in the castle. So far, he'd met the Saber, Alter Saber and Lily Saber. He was told that there's still Lancer and Alter Lancer as well, whom were more grown up than Saber Artoria. Saber Artoria was a proper adult in Sephiroth's eyes. Were the Lancer versions a middle-aged version of her?

"They're the result of following an alternate fate. Just like how Gaia had a fate to follow, every humans does too, but some of us humans deviate from it because we're stubborn, or perhaps there was an intervention that happened." EMIYA removed the cheese-bacons from the pan and dried them, before he placed them on a plate and slid them towards Sephiroth.

Sephiroth paused when he heard that, fork that had a piece of soufflé lowering, face deep in contemplation, before he scoured his courage and asked, "Am I following my fate too?"

An enigmatic smile curved EMIYA's lips, "You were, until we did an intervention."

"Nice to meet you, Sephiroth. My name is Arthur Pendragon and I'll be your teacher in swordsmanship for today." A blonde man with green eyes greeted and introduced himself genially, shaking Sephiroth's hand in a professional manner. He was truly a male counterpart of King Artoria. Or maybe it was King Artoria who was the female counterpart in the first place? Thinking about it reminds Sephiroth of the chicken-or-egg fallacy.

"Hi." Sephiroth greeted, slightly shy. The man had exuded charisma like he was rolling in it, and King Arthur laughed elatedly, as if nothing was going to make him unhappy even if his life was falling apart. Maybe King Arthur was just a naturally happy person? Unlike King Artoria who either frowned in a concentrated manner or scowled because someone was doing something stupid again and she had to deal with them.

"Merlin told me that you don't talk very much. That's quite okay, too. Can you show me your sword forms?" King Arthur asked him gently, and Sephiroth nodded, stepping away from the man.

Sephiroth sucked in a sharp inhale, and he drew the training sword on his hip quickly and efficiently. Feet firmly on the ground, he began to move.

A vertical slash, which he overturned midway by twisting his arm, once, then twice, as if guarding himself from an invisible enemy, and after that was a decisive horizontal slash that could turn upward or in a defensive position, to cover his opening and solidify his bases. Admittedly, his swordsmanship was strange, which was why the other heroic spirits had a hard time picking up a sword that fit him.

Another round of quick slashes, a step back, a step forward, a parry from an overhead attack, before he twisted his forearm and slashed against the invisible attacker- he finally lowered his sword, tip pointed to the ground.

He turned to King Arthur, small sparks of anxiety eating at him, and the young King, for one, didn't have his smiley face on. Instead, he looked like he was in deep concentration, but then he nodded to himself and smiled at Sephiroth again, clapping thrice.

"Well done! No wonder they combined Knights and Samurai to train you at the same time." King Arthur complimented, as Sephiroth made his way towards him.

Sephiroth tilted his head in askance.

"You're a quick draw but you're not light-footed, like most samurai here are. Your footwork rigidly follows the ones that we, Knights, are proficient at, and because of that, no matter how fast your reflexes and hands are in handling your sword and covering your bases, your area of reach is extremely limited. You don't charge in, you let your enemy charge towards you." King Arthur squatted on the ground and snapped a stick from a wayward branch, drawing a stickman with long hair tied into a ponytail, and a circle surrounding the stick figure.

"You have no openings, a slash or two from a sword strike most probably won't make you off-balance judging from your foootwork, and in this circle that I have drawn, your sword can reach anywhere. If you have enhanced eyes and can predict every miniscule movement of your enemy as well as have the reflex to match the speed of the next action, then you've certainly perfected your own swordsmanship, aside from a few loose grips and unnecessary movements that you could probably rectify."

Sephiroth looked at him, wide-eyed in budding respect. He ruminated on the words, and thought that it was like a candle and moth situation. Sephiroth being the candle, and his enemies as the moths. He would draw them, and burn them the moment they come close, unless that moth would be more capable than him and extinguish him.

"Well, your muscles are still underdeveloped, and some of your wristwork would only be applicable when you're a bit older and have a more firmer upper arm and lower arm muscles. Your torso has to be compact enough to take on a much stronger hit, and your thighs and legs have to be strong enough for your footwork." King Arthur stood up from squatting.

"All of that will come in time. Perhaps at thirteen, you'd have developed enough of those, and will only be improving as you grow older. Like all swordsmanship, the reliance on your muscles during combat would be great, and it would take a toll on you if you don't know about your maximum capability in a specific combat situation. You have to know your body so that you know what you lack in, and fill the gap of what you lack if you can still improve yourself."

Sephiroth bobbed his head gravely, standing upright. A hand landed on his head and patted it lightly, startling Sephiroth from his thoughts.

"One advice would be to not be overly hasty. I know how frustrating it is when your body doesn't move the way you want it to, but pushing yourself too hard would result in injury. Some of them, grievous enough that it would make you unable to hold a sword anymore."

"I have fast-healing." Sephiroth replied, informing the man who probably have not been told about Sephiroth's physique.

King Arthur smiled wryly, "So do I, but it realllyyy hurts. Unless you want to experience extreme pain even in under a second, then I suggest you take the advice."

Sephiroth remembered the first time of the battle simulation back in the Shinra manor, and his face darkened. King Arthur's face fell a bit at the expression.

"Pain can be your downfall if you let it, and it can also be your ladder towards greater heights. Warriors like myself have a high tolerance for it, and perhaps one day, you will too, even if I don't like thinking about what you'd have to go through for it. Some would even say that you don't have to fear pain, you have to embrace it. But then again, why not just grow strong enough so that you won't be hurt again, or so that the pain won't matter at all?"

Sephiroth pouted at him, "Aren't you contradicting yourself? Doesn't that mean that I have to become stronger, fast?"

King Arthur chuckled in mirth, "Maybe a little? You'd have to still do it on your own pace though, because the farther you climb quickly, the more setback you'd encounter in the future."

The melancholy in King Arthur's voice halted anymore comebacks that Sepiroth wanted to say. He wondered what the setback was, or were, if there had been a lot, that King Arthur experienced himself?

"Anyway, let's spar a little before lady Musashi takes over the lesson. I need to gauge your combat abilities after all, when you have an actual opponent."

A small smile bloomed in Sephiroth's face. He couldn't wait to see what King Arthur had to offer!

After Arthur had gone and been replaced by Musashi, he was still left in awe at the young King's capabilities. Even though they had the same footwork, King Arthur moved like he was light as feather, dancing around him as he parried Sephiroth's blows easily, and his practice sword was also quick to move to a future opening that Sephiroth hadn't even made yet. Was Sephiroth's next moves that obvious? Or was Sephiroth just slow?

"Looks like someone's deep in thoughts! What're you thinking about? Do you wanna share?" Musashi prodded, grinning at him widely. Her practice sword leaned on the dip of her shoulders, slightly quivering. If that had been a real steel, it would've made a rattling noise.

"The one who taught me before you was King Arthur." Sephiroth answered dutifully, and understanding sparked in Musashi's eyes before she laughed out loud.

"He always leaves deep impressions; I'm not surprised! Anyways, about picking your sword, how about a katana?" Musashi suggested to him.

Sephiroth blinked, "Like the one you have and the rest of the samurai heroic spirits?"

Musashi nodded affirmatively, "Right, so I think he may have told you that your footwork follows theirs but you have a fast draw. You hold your practice sword in one hand, so broadswords or any large type of swords, even the knight-swords are out, since they're mostly held in two hands. Don't think that I didn't notice that you seem to unconsciously project that your sword only has one side's that sharp to cut too."

Sephiroth's eyebrows climbed up in bewilderment, "I do that?"

Musashi laughed gaily, "Sure you do. I noticed it's also the reason why you twist your forearm and wrist so much. You need a slender blade anyway, that can make your draw faster, like just a simple flash of sword and SLASH! Nobody sees anything and you've cut them in half!"

Sephiroth considered the suggestion thoughtfully, "King Arthur mentioned my range too. Would a katana help with it, somehow?"

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, which was similar to puppy eyes and it made Musashi slightly nervous, backing away from the sheer force of the charm.

"A longer katana, maybe? We could order a specialized one for you; I'm sure grandpa would be happy to make you one. Expect that it's probably going to be super cursed or extra holy though. I don't think your sword would break as well if it's by his workmanship."

Sephiroth tilted his head. He honestly didn't think about where they'd be getting him a sword, other than Gudao telling him not to worry about it since they have a way to provide any sword that Sephiroth would like.

"Is it made by a King? Gudao mentioned once that he could probably beg the King for a sword noble phantasm—"

"Dear gods, no!" Musashi erupted in unrestrained laughter, holding her stomach while at it, "King Gil would stab anyone first before they get a treasure from him, or make them do something impossible as a test of worthiness and all that. He's not a smithy anyway, he's a collector. The one I'm talking about is grandpa Muramasa. He's a swordsmith who specializes in katana."

"He's the one who made one of my swords." She gestured to her hip, and touched a red-hilted sword in black scabbard, and flower-like guard. It had an indigo ribbon wrapped around the scabbard.

Sephiroth's eyebrows curled in puzzlement the longer he stared at the sword, as if there's something very wrong with it. Musashi grinned at him, knowing the source of his confusion.

"It's cursed, you see. That's why it feels wrong." Musashi answered without being prompted, and Sephiroth looked at the sword in a new light.

"So that's what a cursed sword feel like." He mused out loud, before he turned to face Musashi, "He can make me a sword like yours?"

"Depends on the outcome. It might become holy, like King Arthur's sword. Or more cursed than mine. Any sword he makes would probably befit your character anyway, since you're the one he'd base it on." Musashi shrugged and Sephiroth peered at her skeptically.

"Your character befits a cursed sword?" He asked, a touch hesitant.

Musashi chuckled sheepishly, "Nah, he gave this sword to me, said it's a failure. He'd already made it before I came across it, and I totally fell in love at first sight! Couldn't help touching it before he came screaming not to because it's apparently cursed. The sword fits me very well, anyway. Besides, it's called 'Myoujingiri Muramasa'! Cutting gods and demons alike! Isn't it cool?"

Sephiroth nodded at her honest response, "You like danger, and that sword is dangerous; it fits you."

"Wha—Hey!" Musashi sulked in fake indignance, "Just for that, don't expect that I'll be merciful in training you today, young man!"

Sephiroth smirked at her, "You better not take me lightly then."

Sephiroth should probably regret baiting Musashi, but as he was bowed over on the marble table, surface cooling his heated cheeks and finally feeling relief, he found that he really doesn't regret anything. His body ached in every places, but he felt good; amazing even. He was in the garden again, with just Marie as the one accompanying him this time. Martha had apparently gone somewhere, probably punching someone again, and Jeanne was busy mediating hot-headed people which she had been doing since daybreak.

"Is it related to the explosion earlier this morning? I thought there's a No-NP rule unless in the arena or training area?" Sephiroth asked comfortably, and Marie chuckled at his antics. She was simply happy that Sephiroth was now loose enough to relax in her presence, similar with the other heroic spirits. He was now acting like the child he truly was.

"They were in the training area, apparently. Mr. Edison, Mr. Babbage and Mr. Tesla had a little competition that got out of hand, which resulted in power outage. Gudako came storming in afterwards, and added heat to the fire, because she and Gudao had been playing this game called 'Mario Kart' and Gudako was winning for once." Marie explained, sighing theatrically.

Sephiroth wanted to sigh too. He felt like he was the adult when around some heroic spirits who kept antagonistically haggling each other for a fight or competition, which never failed to go out of hand, and something gets destroyed. Fortunately, Casters were a blessing to humanity, or just in Nibelheim, for always covering their 'mistakes'.

In short, Casters were overworked and should be paid by ungrateful Nibelheimian heroic spirits.

"It's going to be the peak of summer soon. I'm sure we'll all be rayshifted again in an uninhibited island and fend for ourselves before we get to enjoy anything." Marie mulled in peace, sipping her tea.

Sephiroth's ears perked up, "Rayshifted? We're going somewhere?"

Marie smiled at him, a twinkle in her eyes, "Oh yes, Rayshifting wasn't explained to you yet, wasn't it?"

Sephiroth raised his head from the table and shook it twice in agreement, "I've heard it in passing. It's something that happens in Chaldea, right?"

"Oui! Singularities have been explained to you already, no?"

Sephiroth nodded in affirmation. He already knew about Singularities, Lostbelt, the Grail system, and that heroic spirits are also called "Servants". Terms that he did not know would always be explained in patience if he asked, and Sephiroth was a curious child.

"Small Singularities are still formed from time to time, and a team is usually dispatched to fix it. Somehow, conveniently, every summer, or valentines, or some another event would happen, a small Singularity always, always opens up, and we just tend to rayshift into them and have fun while fixing it. Which basically means a vacation!" Marie joyfully ended, and Sephiroth's inner child joyfully hollered with her, inwardly. He was still as cool as cucumber outwardly.

"D-does that mean that we'll travel to alternate worlds?!" Or not.

Sephiroth had forgotten to ask Musashi and King Arthur about the other alternate worlds they travelled into earlier, but hearing that he could probably experience going in one himself was much more exciting than just hearing about it in stories. He would still want to hear them though.

"Oui, that's right! I'm sure Gudako, Gudao, Mash and Da Vinci will make every preparation they can just to send you somewhere and simply have fun! It'll be amazing! You can swim to your heart's content, eat a perfect parfait made by EMIYA if you asked him for one, and perhaps an enjoyable game of beach volleyball as well. It would be splendid, indeed!"

Sephiroth's eyes blurred suddenly, becoming hot. He faced away from Marie so that she wouldn't be able to see, but he knew she did when a soft hand landed atop his hand.

"I-I've never been to a beach before. I don't know if I can swim." He sputtered out, and the hand holding his tightened slightly.

"It's alright, a lot of us will be willing to teach you how to." A handkerchief wiped away his tears, the cloth dampening, "Besides, you're a fast learner! I'm sure you can swim leaps and bounds while we all clumsily teach you. You'll be leaving us by the shore when the day ends!"

Sephiroth laughed wetly on the handkerchief. Only a few tears came out from his short outburst, and he was appalled that he had an outburst at all, considering that he was used to repressing his feelings.

From Marie's smile though, Sephiroth thought that maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to let out his feelings from time to time.