Big gray-blue eyes looked up, innocent and forgiving. They shone with tears and a look of honest disbelief. It was as if the boy had never been betrayed before. But the innocent look was too hard to gaze upon, so the next blow was aimed for the face, in hopes of breaking the eye contact. The boy accepted the blow, smiling slightly. To him, this was a game. His father would never hit him unless it was a test. This was a test. Or so he hoped. Once the blow connected and pulled back, the bruise already began forming. But the boy paid no attention. His innocence refused to believe it.

 

“Damn you, Zack!”

 

The smile turned into a frown, innocent look wavering for a minute. It appeared again, though this time slightly hurt. Zack waited for the next blow to come, which it did, the wedding band on his father’s left hand splitting the skin above Zack’s eyebrow, leaving a red smear down his nose and on his father’s hand. Zack flinched and yelped quietly.

 

“Dad…” He pleaded.

 

“This isn’t a game!” Came the harsh reply, followed by a sharp punch to the side.

 

Zack leaned into the punch instead of away from it. He couldn’t decide whether it was natural instinct or something else, but something made him lean into it instead of away from it. He managed to propel himself over the punch, having it hurt a lot less than it would’ve, had he received the brunt of the blow. His father, frustrated at the smart move, swung around fast and his fist collided with Zack’s knee. Zack curled into a ball and groaned.

 

“Do something!” His father yelled. “Do something to prove I’m hurting you!”

 

Zack didn’t make a noise as a kick landed on his spine. He didn’t make a sound as rough hands picked him up and threw him across the room. He made a small noise in the back of his throat as his father knocked him into the kitchen, but it was so quiet, it couldn’t be deemed audible. Zack’s eyes were furious now, but it was a quiet fury, like a storm brewing.

 

“Why?” Zack demanded. “Why now?”

 

* You want this, right? *

 

“It’s been a little too long.” His father admitted. “But what goes to rest doesn’t always stay that way.”

 

Zack nodded. He didn’t try to reply, just focused on getting his strength up to run. He didn’t want to stay again. He didn’t want it again. Zack propped himself up onto his elbows, ready to spring up. The kitchen lights turned on, blinding Zack for a brief moment, and in that moment, his father pounced. Something in Zack’s chest cracked, and Zack suddenly found it increasingly hard to breathe. The crack scared his father off for a brief second, and Zack took advantage of it. He sprung up and ran, using past thoughts to make him forget his pain. He used a steady mantra of feelings in his mind, each memory making him run faster. Every step was a memory he’d forget.

 

* Touching me, hurting me, bruising me, cutting me, invading me… *

 

The steps carried Zack out of his house, out of Gongaga and out of a place that held so many bad memories for him, so many hard times and not enough good times. There was so much Zack wanted to forget.

 

Zack ran on, trying not to collapse from loss of air. He was nearly three miles away from Gongaga before his breathing became too difficult. He couldn’t move. Zack let himself fall to the ground. The soil was cool and moist, and Zack somehow found it easy to fall into sleep with worms wriggling at his fingertips.

 

<<<+>>>

 

“He’s alive, sir.”

 

“Give me more stats than that, trooper.” Sephiroth said, leaning over the nervous form of a Shinra trooper.

 

“His heart rate is fine, but his breathing is a little labored. He has a broken rib and a minor cut above his left eyebrow. The rest is just bruising.” The trooped said, just a little too fast.

 

“Thank-you, trooper. Speak slowly next time.” Sephiroth admonished, waving the trooper off with a hand.

 

“Yes. Sir. Thank-you. Sir.” The trooper said, speaking slowly.

 

Sephiroth would’ve considered the trooper cocky and had him educated, but the body distracted him. It was a boy, only two or three years younger than himself, with long black hair and an angular face. The boy’s lips were slightly parted to let air through easier and each breath was sharp. Sephiroth would’ve normally let the person suffer until they got a paramedic, but Sephiroth saw something in the boy. He wanted to learn more. He pulled a Restore materia from his belt and cast it over the boy’s chest. The green glow appeared, drawing the attention of the troopers and the one 3^rd Class SOLDIER who stood slightly off to the side, but when they saw the determined look on Sephiroth’s face, they all turned away.

 

They boy’s breathing became easier and he began regaining consciousness. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, his left one a little more gently, and sat up. He coughed and choked for a few moments on the intense sensation of the materia fixing his bruises and cuts.

 

“Are you all right?” Sephiroth asked, leaning forward just a touch.

 

The boy nodded. “Fine. Who are you?”

 

“I’m Sephiroth, Soon to be General of the Shinra Army.” Sephiroth said. The boy decided he liked how Sephiroth said it. He had pride; it just wasn’t in the way he spoke. He was humble, but he had a huge ego. Zack found it interesting. “And you are…?”

 

“Zack.” Zack said. Sephiroth liked how Zack included no fancy titles or last names. He just said who he was. Zack was Zack. “I need to get somewhere.” Zack said after a moment’s pause.

 

“Really?” Sephiroth asked, interested. “Where?”

 

Zack shrugged. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

 

“No, I meant: What city, village, town, cove, island or whatever else are you going to?”

 

“I don’t know.” Zack said, laughing. “I’m not going back to Gongaga, but I need to go somewhere. Any ideas?”

 

Sephiroth thought about it. “It depends what you want, Zack. Holiday resort, I recommend Costa del Sol. For a seaport, I’d recommend Junon. You like mountains? Go to Nibelheim. For a big city, Midgar…”

 

“Midgar?” Zack asked. “Ever been there?”

 

Sephiroth chuckled. “I live there, Zack.”

 

 

 

 

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