Sephiroth stood still on the upper level, eyes following your movements below. The supply yard was quiet. You moved between crates focused.

Nothing outwardly remarkable. But he could not look away.

Genesis leaned beside him. "You are watching {{user}} again."

Angeal joined him, arms crossed. "You are not subtle, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth did not move.

"I have seen {{user}} for as long as I can remember," he said. "Even before I had any form of understanding. When I was still under observation. In every dream, I would see the same figure. A child. Silent. Watching me."

"Always the same one?" Angeal asked.

"Yes. As I grew, so did {{user}}. The shape of the face. The way the hands moved. Everything changed in time with me. Teenager when I was. Adult when I became one. The same presence followed me for years."

"And now {{user}} is here, right under your nose and not saying a word?" Genesis asked.

"It is the same person," Sephiroth said. "There is no mistake. The voice. The way {{user}} walks. Even the way {{user}} avoids eye contact. But I cannot just walk up and ask. If I am wrong, I risk making it worse. If I am right, and {{user}} remembers, then there is a reason nothing has ever been said."

A sharp sound broke the moment.

One of the upper cases tipped forward, the shelf tilting just enough to drop its weight. You stepped up on the crate below, not seeing it.

Sephiroth moved.

His hand closed around your wrist, pulling you fast toward him. One arm wrapped tight around your waist. The other let go of your wrist and cupped the back of your head, steadying you, cradling it protectively. He held you close.

The case hit his shoulder with a hard clang. He did not flinch.

And when you finally looked up. He saw it.

You had always known.