Final Fantasy and its characters are owned by Square Inc., and I do not claim them as my own. However, this story, and all original characters do belong to me.

Days passed. I could feel my body withering away, and I wondered if life was supposed to be so short... I didn't care if I survived this or not. I had been bound in that room for some time without any sign of food, water, or Sephiroth, at that. Did he think it would bother me? My body grew weak, but my spirit grew even stronger. However, time passed for me in and out of consciousness. It wasn't at all fun, but it was tolerable. I would show Sephiroth my strength of mind when I saw him again. I doubted for some reason that he would kill me like this.

Finally, at a point where I began to drift out of consciousness, I saw the door slowly open. Tipping my head up as far as I could manage, I got my chin off my chest and watched Sephiroth enter.

"You're... trying to kill me," I slurred at him, softly, but with a tinge of anger. I didn't at all feel this way, and to show it, I grinned wickedly at him. Perhaps it would throw him off.

"Shut up."

And so I did. What else could I do? It did take energy to speak, and I was already feeling like I could pass out at any moment. I didn't know if he had come to me to laugh... or to interrogate me. I had no idea. If I were in his position, I certainly wouldn't end the questioning yet, so I assumed I was in for more pressure.

Sephiroth approached me, and it wasn't until then that I noticed a bottle in his hand. It was water! I had been lucky� maybe he wasn't there to torment me. There had to be some reason he wanted me alive, perhaps to learn about me, it was true� but from my condition, I knew he placed only little value in my life.

I then watched emotionless eyes as he took a handful of hair on the back of my head and tugged it, forcing my head up. Placing the mouth of the bottle to my lips, he tipped it back and let the water rush into my mouth. It felt more like drowning than being given a drink. I swallowed all that I could, then began to choke, unable to take any more. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't get out of his grasp. It was tortuous� but I had to wait until he was done. Half of the bottle had emptied, and most of it had spilled onto my clothing and the floor rather than into my mouth.

He let my hair go, and my head fell down. I coughed, spitting up the liquid that I had not been able to retain. "What� do you want�?" I managed to ask when I had finished my gagging.

"Oh, excuse me. I had thought you might want a drink." He threw the bottle to the side, and I watched in despair as the water spilled out of it.

"No�" Subconsciously, I jerked my binds, pulling towards the bottle as though I could reach it. The water was all over the floor now, and the bottle had drained.

The impatient man before me slammed a hand flat against the wall right beside my head where my face was turned. Immediately looking back to him, I realized his growing irritation with me. It burned in his eyes� piercing mine, staring coldly at me. This made me uncomfortable; I turned my head to the other side now, my left. Again, a hand slammed against the wall in my line of view, and I had to look back at him.

"Tell me the truth, now� Why do you resemble myself? I'm dying to know." The sarcasm in his voice was apparent in his last sentence. A smirk even played across his lips. This was the game again, and I had to play it to keep in the race. I couldn't possibly answer him truthfully, either. There was a certain honor that one sent as an assassin had. It would've gone against my ethics to tell him any facts.

I leaned forward a bit, my face nearing his. I whispered in response, "Because... I am you. Don't you see?"

"We'll see about that." He took his hands away and moved a couple steps back from me. "Where are you from?"

"I wouldn't know, because I don't have a hometown�" These words seemed etched in my mind for some reason� He glared at me when he heard this. I was connecting with him now; I could feel it. I knew who he was... because I really had his mind inside my head.

I thought he had given up, because he walked back towards the door. "I'll get it out of you," he told me over his shoulder. "I have a little surprise in store."

With that, he left. I wasn't worried much about what he could do. The torture I had endured so far wasn't horrible, I knew, but I could more than that. However, when he returned moments later, I came to the final realization that violence knew no limits with him... for he now carried his Masamune.

He stood a couple feet from me, and extended the sword. Carefully moving it in the air, both he and I watched the tip. He set it against my upper left arm. "Why are you here?" His voice was dark, twisted, and I knew his mind had grown even less stable now, as I had experienced before. He was dangerous now.

Still, I couldn't reveal all just because of this. "�Because I want to be."

He frowned. My words weren't satisfying, and I knew it. Slowly, he pressed the tip of the blade into my skin and drew it across my arm. Glancing to the spot, I saw liquid crimson begin to run down my arm from the clean gash. It stung, but I ignored the petty pain.

"Who sent you here�?"

This time I kept quiet, and eventually Sephiroth realized that I wouldn't respond. Now, he drew the sword to my other arm and tore across the skin, only more swiftly. I cringed slightly; not from the hurt, but from the slow, acute torture he was dealing me. This was hellish.

His eyes boiled with irritation. "Tell me something! Who you are! Why you're here! SPEAK!" he cried fiercely, now pressing the tip of the Masamune to my throat. I only remained silent for a moment, but that was long enough. Tearing the blade through the air, he slashed at my torso three times� the result was in slices, two on my chest and one on my stomach, all dripping with blood. My eyes wandered down to my wounds, and I was unable to help myself as I watched the life seep out of my body, ounces at a time. I heard Sephiroth put away his sword while I wasn't watching him. Next, before I even noticed, another liquid was being forced down my throat from a glass bottle, and I closed my eyes, not resisting.