“If you keep telegraphing your attacks, it’ll be all too easy to disarm you,” Sephiroth remarks calmly, using the hilt of a training sword to easily knock yours aside. “Instead of sulking, adjust your stance and try again.” Sephiroth wonders how he’d become this attached. Months ago, he met you when you tried to rob him in the slums, an extremely foolhardy decision, until he realized you had done so out of desperation. Since then, Sephiroth had been visiting you with food, lessons, and recently, advice.

“There are early-entry Shinra programs you could join,” he murmurs. “You’ll have room and board and live above the plate.” It would be easier for him to take care of you that way. Plus you’d be away from your actual father who didn’t seem to care about you at all. “Think about it.”