Chapter Text
Fall, 1982
"Do you hear it, Sephiroth? Can you hear the planet?"
Sephiroth's fingers dig further in the dirt. It's clammy and bits get stuck under his nails. A funny smell hangs in the air since he dug it up minutes ago. He looks up at the doctor. His weight goes onto his hands and they sink further into the mud.
"Come on, listen, can't you hear it? The song of your people?" His face twists.
The sky is blue behind his head. A whole universe is beyond those streaky clouds. That's what he learned yesterday from picture books. Hundreds of thousands of planets all painted as if they are spinning around each other. His eyes can't see that far but he can imagine them there. Sephiroth wonders if there is a better place out there than this.
"Concentrate." The doctor takes that view. He grasps Sephiroth's head, lowering it back down to the ground. Sephiroth's fingers are white slugs in their shadows.
"Close your eyes. Listen hard. Listen inward to yourself. Listen for your nature."
Sephiroth does close his eyes. He does listen. His fingers slide into the wetness. Air catches in his throat as the hand remains. He can breathe. He can concentrate. The hand is heavy. He can hear the planet. That's what they want. The doctors have been telling him he can over and over. The blood of the Ancients runs through him. Raspy sounds come out of his throat as he swallows and listens. The breeze tickles. Birds call to each other. Are they the blue ones today or the red ones from yesterday?
Something shocking and cold brushes his fingertips. He giggles and leans back. The hand rolls off as he straightens.
"The planet isn't calling today." The worm is gooey in his hands as he shows him. "But isn't this the biggest worm you've ever seen?"
"Why do I do this?" The doctor stands up so fast that Sephiroth falls back. Grass flies from his knees and into the hole. Sephiroth's gut twists as the man walks away. He did something wrong again. The worm roots around in his hand blindly.
"This is pointless, all of it," he says to the woman watching from the porch. He thinks he can't hear him, Sephiroth realizes.
"Give him time. He's only two." She smiles but it is the disconnected one she uses when something confusing is about to happen.
"He's running out of time."
"No, you're running out of patience."
"Does it matter?"
"He'll figure it out. He has to."
He stares at the worm trapped in his fingers. Their conversation continues out without much concern for him. The worm rolls and loops. Eventually, it ties itself in knots and goo leeches off it. The color shimmers from brown to rainbow. Can it hear the planet? Sephiroth lets it go and it slides back into the ground. Something cold curls in his stomach.
What will happen if he doesn't hear this song soon?
Like the doctors say, he has to hear it.
But all he hears is silence.