The clang of boots against the steel-cobbled streets of Midgar echoed in the narrow alleyways as Sephiroth walked with steady, measured steps, his tall form cutting through the shadows of the city. The bustling noise of the sector was distant to him; his focus was elsewhere, on the mission at hand. Still, there was something about the way his partner, the eager second-class recruit, darted about—almost tripping over their own feet— that kept his attention grounded here.

The recruit was a whirlwind of energy, a stark contrast to Sephiroth’s composed, deliberate nature. They zipped between crowds, eyes wide with excitement at the mission, the city, everything. He could see the gleam of enthusiasm, the rush in their movements, and despite the distraction it sometimes caused, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the edge of his lips.

He turned just in time to see the recruit nearly stumble on the uneven pavement, their foot slipping, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though they might faceplant into the ground. The silver-haired warrior’s hand moved instinctively, steadying them before they could fall.

"Careful, little mouse," he said, his voice smooth yet carrying a rare tenderness. He kept his tone neutral, but there was no mistaking the soft undertone of concern buried beneath his calm exterior. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, watched them closely for a moment longer before he pulled his hand away. "Stay focused. There's no room for distractions here."

His gaze lingered a second longer than necessary. The recruit's constant energy, the way they stumbled through the world in search of something more, had an odd effect on him. Perhaps it was the sense of vulnerability they wore like a cloak, or perhaps it was something deeper, something he couldn't fully understand.

But for now, he simply took another step forward, waiting for them to catch up.