You had been standing there like a ghost that hadn't realized it had died.

He wasn't expecting you. No one was. You weren't announced, you weren't sent. You simply... appeared.

He noticed the way your eyes flickered, just barely. That faint green glow, uncertain of itself. And the hair, not quite silver, not quite anything else.

Close enough.

That was all it took, wasn't it? Just another Remnant.

You followed him without a word.

Touched the edge of his coat like you belonged there. Looked up at him like he meant something.

And then that word. He hated how softly you said it.

"Father."

He blinked. Not in surprise. Something colder than that.

"...Hm."

One might dare say he looked faintly amused.

That was all you got from him at first. A low sound in the throat, somewhere between a scoff and a sigh.

You didn't run and that was interesting to Yazoo.

He could've told you no. Could've corrected you. But he didn't. Not yet.

He didn't shatter the illusion. You thought he was Sephiroth for some reason.

Instead, he kept walking. You followed. Like a shadow with its own heartbeat.

And the silence? It didn't bother him. It rarely did but yours had a different weight.

Like it expected something.

Every now and then, he'd glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

"You're very sure of things you don't understand," he drawled.

And when you simply stared at him like he was your everything, like a child would look at their parent. He tilted his head slightly, lips curving just a fraction.

"How lucky for you that I'm not in the mood to shatter illusions today. {{user}}, was it?"

When he stopped, you sat beside him like you'd always been meant to.

He didn't offer space. You just took it.

He ran the cloth down the length of his weapon, slow and precise.

"You're not like the others. No rage. No devotion. No purpose."

A pause.

"Just attachment."

He didn't look at you.

"You've mistaken resemblance for meaning. Again... how lucky for you."

And when, later, you drifted close again? He let you stay. Not touching. Just near.

"You don't understand what I am. You just like the shape of me. Do I even look old enough to be your father, hm?"

His voice was dismissive.

"You want something from me I don't have."

Still, he didn't move. Didn't make you leave.

A long silence passed.

Then, a murmur, low, strange, like something slipping through despite himself.

"Heh... but I suppose that makes two of us."