[He watches him, silent and assessing, and the words are clarifying if not terribly reassuring. Not to a man whose life was defined by Shinra, who had never functioned outside of its purview.

Sephiroth return his gaze to the fire. Even if that is the point that Luka is trying to make, it settles unevenly in him, part of him wanting to be defiant, the rest fending off exasperation.]

I am praised for it, you know.

[A non sequitur that seems to lack context, but he has to take a moment to form the words. Sephiroth, deeply observant and thoughtful, cannot always say what he means without being too blunt, too clipped.]

For being effective, strong. [The legendary SOLDIER, Shinra’s finest!] My whole life was trained for war, Luka. I fought in my first real battle when I was thirteen. They called me a hero soon after, because there was no one left to resist. They all know my name in Midgar — in Gaia.

[And it had been so easy to cut down all of those who rebelled; men and women, trained and untrained. Desperate, all of them, fighting to the very end, and then they were gone.]

That’s all I know; and I understand that’s your point. But mine is that no matter how much you criticize me, I can’t change the fact that I’m different. Understand?