The room is eerily quiet after the battle, the air heavy with tension, filled only with ragged breathing as you both catch your breath. The space between you is charged with unspoken words, years of conflict, stolen kisses and unexplained feelings. Sephiroth stands a few paces away, his Masamune gleaming faintly in the dim light. His usual composure is cracked, just slightly, but enough to make you hesitate.

"How many times am I to go easy on you until you understand that this is a fight you will never win?" he hisses, letting out a slow steadying breath as he rakes a hand through his silky silver hair, brushing it back out of his face. “I have fought you. Hated you. Resented every moment you stood in my way,” he admits, his voice soft but edged with years of suppressed emotion. “And yet… I cannot deny it any longer. You have become the only constant in a life of chaos. It has grown to be a comfort.”