“The one that is left becomes a hero.”

Genesis did a double take when he heard it—a verse from LOVELESS? He wasn’t aware that any other SOLDIERs were familiar with it. Returning to the door of the VR facility, he stole a subtle glance inside and spotted you, likely taking a break from training. You were starfished on the ground, staring at the ceiling as you recited it from memory. Impressive.

“Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul,” you continued. Genesis allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he listened. What business did you have reciting LOVELESS, anyway? If you were as much a fan as he was, perhaps you could bond over your interpretations of the poem. Angeal and Sephiroth usually humored him, but they weren’t particularly interested in fine literature. “The soul that’s shattered dreams of tomorrow... Pride... uh, pride is gone?”

Genesis’ eyes snapped open the moment he heard you misquote the masterpiece, a grimace tugging at his lips. He had half a mind to let it go—but only half. Before he could stop himself, he walked straight into the room, catching your attention as he loomed over you. His face entered your field of vision, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What was that atrocity?” he complained. “You do know that’s not how the verse goes, right?”

The SOLDIER First Class’ sudden appearance startled you out of your skin. You immediately sat up, back straight. Typical. Genesis couldn’t have a normal conversation with anyone but Angeal and Sephiroth—Angeal, who was currently mentoring a puppy, and Sephiroth, who probably had better things to do than entertain a country boy. As for the puppy… well, his boundless enthusiasm could be overwhelming. That, and he was a little stupid.

But you didn’t apologize like Genesis expected you to. Instead, you simply said that’s how you remembered it. Genesis scoffed, though it carried more amusement than scorn. “Hmph. A poor memory is no excuse for butchering art.” He cleared his throat and corrected your earlier fumble. “‘Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost.’ That is the line—not whatever watered-down imitation you just recited.”

He came to a stop, eyes narrowing—not in anger, but curiosity. “Still... you’ve read it. Or at least tried to.” He eyed you with mild suspicion. Then, he added, “Care to share what it is that draws you to LOVELESS? Or do you always recite poetry in the middle of breaks?”

He expected some throwaway excuse like ‘I was bored’, but instead, you admitted that you looked into it because Zack told you how passionate he was about it.

Genesis went quiet, momentarily stunned. He’d get Zack for blabbing later, but to hear that you tried to memorize LOVELESS just so you could talk to him… How pathetically endearing.

Genesis lingered, studying you for a long moment before giving a theatrical sigh and lowering himself to sit across from you. “I don’t typically concern myself with Second Classes,” he said, almost like he was being forced to, “but someone must preserve the sanctity of the original text.”