This was written on the last traces of food poisoning, so be afraid. Be VERY afraid. Oh, and thanks to everyone for your LOVELY feedback on the first Hojo part! (Doesn't mean I don't want feedback for this part though!)

PG-12 for violence and swearing

Non-profit fan-fiction.

[Hojo]

I had not left the Shinra building for a long time... an extremely long time, as a matter of fact. But only a few days ago I had remembered a few files I had left in the 'Shinra Mansion' that would be necessary for one of my latest experiments. My experiments upon the ex-turk Vincent Valentine had almost all proven useful in one way or another.

Travelling back to Nibelheim had flooded my head with many memories. How old was I now? In my sixties? No wonder I had been through so many experiences. The result of my favourite was busy destroying everything he could, almost like an adolescent in a sulk, though he appeared to have a reason. The few people who had survived his attacks made terrified statements about him detailing his being a product of the 'Cetra'. Oh Sephiroth, how wrong you are.

My burst of laughter seemed to unnerve the person sitting across from me on the coach, but when I tried to look into his eyes, he turned away. Sensible decision. I can be somewhat... unpleasant, when irritated. In all honesty though, I don't think I would have reacted too violently to anything the stranger had done - the main thought on my mind, of Sephiroth discovering his true origins, was far too amusing.

Finally the coach pulled up outside Nibelheim, and I noticed I was the only individual getting off at this stop. There was always an unnerving edge to the town, as if people somehow sensed the violence that Shinra had covered up here around five years ago, though there was no solid proof of anything wrong actually happening. Shinra had done well in hiding every piece of solid evidence - eye witnesses and the damaged buildings. I remembered one particularly stubborn man who had refused to be silenced, even when offered 10,000 gil for the trouble, and I had been given the job of silencing him pernamently.

Paralysis. Simple, but effective. One quick injection into the man's thigh after catching him alone in an alleyway, and he was now a human 'vegetable', as other people politely put it. The few friends the man had before the incident were sensible enough to keep silent about any suspicions they had. Insults to Shinra were best kept hidden.

Ah, to be back in Nibelheim. That familiar smell of Mako in the air... the secrets buried inside and underneath the town... how so small a village could have so huge a number of secrets, I did not know. Even my failed experiments developed pasts here.

The old Shinra mansion still looked absurdly out of place, dark and threatening next to the false serenity of the other buildings. Simply to look at the mansion was to realise that it had a past darker than what most people could imagine. I only say most, though. Some of the thoughts that have run through my mind at times would terrify more than any of the mansion's secrets.

The events of five years back meant that several doors were still open, even those that were designed to be 'secret', the entrance to the hidden staircase for one.

Even when I had been young, staircases had been a pain to tackle, and were definitely dangerous for someone of my age. But I did not care - the stairs here were familiar. I knew each and every step, and despite their age, they had not deteriorated; they were still as strong as before, due to being made of stone rather than wood. Indeed, the only sign of aging on this staircase was the thick layer of dust. No dead insects though; despite the tendency of small creatures to gravitate towards rot and death, even they seemed to realise that this building contained an evil heart. I doubt even the dead could rest in peace here.

After passing through the damp corridors and finding the necessary files, I looked around the old laboratory area, remembered the mixed scents of blood, mako, and various chemicals. An old, familiar scalpel still lay on top of a pile of books, the blade covered with a faint reddish dust, mixture of dried blood and rust. As I picked up the scalpel, memories of what it had been used for made me frown. The ex-turk, who had DARED try to stop me from making my son as strong as I knew he could be, had suffered underneath this blade. I remembered slight variations in the feel of the blade as I severed through tendons and ligaments before attaching the prosthetic arm... but it had been even more satisfying to see the look on his face when he saw the false arm for the first time.

I had actually considered giving him a second prosthetic arm, but the necessary materials were expensive, and besides which, variety is the spice of life. He might not have been as shocked by a second false arm as he was by being introduced to a new friend; Chaos.

Well, I had destroyed that particular problem of mine. Now, I had only to ensure Sephiroth's safety, and everything would be perfect.

Slowly but surely, everything was falling into place.