Parenthood'z Nightmare

Chapter XXI - The P'an'it

Mud exploded into brown fireworks, bone and bloody matter caught in its spray. Wutai's surprise attack had begun!

Sephiroth kept his eyes on the enemies that dropped from the aircrafts dropping its bombs upon the camp, he was happy to smell it burning, trying to ignore the terror struck men, some mad with fear, others kept their wits fighting alongside him. He had seen the sight too often to allow it to concern him.

The slain do not cry out during battle, for they are in fact slain, as disturbing as the sight of a corpse is, especially with its skin blown from its bones, or another left headless from the impact of the edge of a sword, it was the sound that Sephiroth would not forget, the terrified screams of Pike rocking back and forth, the men not knowing where to run, that death howl of Davis, when, following orders, an explosion of flame ate the skin off his face, the echoing booms that fell beside him, caking him in the grim remains of the struck... the smell of the blood sprayed upon him, the sulphur that stuck in his lungs... All this he easily ignored as the adrenaline ran through his veins, his sword an extension of himself, precisely slicing through Wutai men, not like butter... he had never understood why people said such things. The human body is not soft enough for a sharp sword to glide through it, it takes strength, the willpower to push through the skin, muscle and cartilage to pierce the organs and rip tendons in one swoop. And unlike butter, men do not stand still. They move; they defend; they run and scream and stare with murder or fear in their weighty eyes. Butter does not resist.

Sephiroth thrust Masamune into the Wutai Soldier's back before the man could swing his sword into Angeal.

Masamine sliced through the enemy, through his clothes, armour, skin, tendons, cartilage, bones and organs. It was like trying to run a whole Christmas turkey though with a dinner knife, Sephiroth decided, swinging the corpse off his sword.

"Are you alri –?" A bomb landed between them, Sephiroth flew back several paces, fire scoured his eyes, hot mud coated him and he writhed on the ground, struggling to get up, to find his footing as his ears rang like the static whistle of an old television.

The scene played slowly, the explosions were a slow melodramatic display of colour; the Soldiers movements were fragmented, like clockwork ballerinas stopping partway through their performance to leap into another. He didn't know where to look first. The static whistling in his head was so loud he had to raise a hand to his ear, the dull background noise played like distorted symphonies.

A hand that fell on his shoulder startled him. Angeal stared into his face, his mouth was moving but the words were lost in the whistling pitch and wayward symphonies of bombs like drums and screams like flutes.

Another explosion shook the ground, and in the blink of an eye time had passed. Sephiroth was laid on his back, dragged through the mud and left in the sheltered shadow of an old hut where the corpses and bullet shells laid amongst the sandbags, staring at him with lifeless eyes, like puppets.

***

Alice opened her eyes. In the silhouette of Banora's budding trees the full moon shone, casting a pale glow upon the walls of Angeal's old room, lighting up the curtains like opal. "Daddy." The words were a calm, quiet statement. She suddenly began to breathe heavily and fell out the bed, running out the door and all but tumbling down the stairs. "Daddy! Daddy?" She scuttled across the stone floor of the kitchen.

"Alice?" Gillian startled from her place at the table as the child hurtled passed and leapt high to tug the handle of the front door down. "Alice stop!" The door opened ajar and Alice scurried into the village.

Gillian could barely keep up with her, she reached out, her fingers only brushed Alice's shoulder. "Daddy?"

"Alice! Come back!" Gillian was slowing down, her legs not strong enough to race like they used to.