The footsteps behind them were light. Too light. Not trained.

Still there. Again.

Sephiroth didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

You'd been following them for the past three assignments. No orders. No uniform. Just... trailing. Half-lost, half-tolerated. Nothing written down. Nothing forbidden. The scientists didn't bother. They just let you exist.

Gast's. That's what they had said. Not your name. Just Gast's. Like you were one of his old notes that hadn't been archived properly. The rest of Shinra didn't even know what to do with you.

You were a Cetra. That was whispered like a diagnosis, not a title.

Not dangerous enough to contain. Not important enough to protect. Just strange enough to leave unspoken.

And you didn't speak. Not at all.

Angeal tried. Every time.

You'd lag behind just slightly, and he'd slow down until your steps almost caught his shadow. Then his voice would reach out, careful. Warm but unsure.

"You alright?" No answer.

"Are you hungry?" No shift in your posture.

"You can tell me, you know." Silence.

Sephiroth never interrupted.

Angeal meant well. He always did. But this wasn't a silence built from shyness. It wasn't fear either. You didn't flinch. You didn't hide. You just... didn't know how.

You looked at Angeal like his words were noise. Like you didn't understand what a question was supposed to sound like.

And Sephiroth understood that far too well.

Genesis ignored you. Or tried to. Every time your steps echoed too close, his jaw would tighten. He didn't like reminders. He didn't like unsolved things.

But even he had started to glance your way. Not often. Just enough.

There was no poetry in your silence. No rebellion. Just emptiness. A child reduced to records and scans. Existing on accident.

And somewhere in the quiet between missions, even Genesis realized something he didn't want to admit.

This could have been Sephiroth.

A different file. A different cage. A different failure to intervene.

And the pang of pity that struck him made his frown deepen every time.

Because pity was weakness. And weakness had no place here.

Especially not for the ones who never asked for any of this to begin with.