Chapter Text
Cloud wasn’t sure why he had returned to the ruins of Midgar. Closure, maybe.
He found himself standing by the wreck of the Shinra Tower. Once a shining monument to corporate greed, it was now little more than a decaying husk.
Seeing it reduced to rubble was cathartic.
It was wildly foolish to go anywhere near the remnants of the building – what remained was unstable and could potentially collapse at any minute.
Of course, no-one had ever accused Cloud of being sensible.
He found himself clambering over uneven slabs of concrete until he was standing in the carcass of the once-impressive foyer.
The weather had brutalised the exposed surfaces, rendering them jagged and damp. Very few plants grew in the area – a legacy of Shinra’s environmental devastation – but some particularly tenacious weeds had taken root next to the remains of a stairwell.
Cloud knew it was complete folly, but he was somehow still drawn further into the ruins. He had so many memories of this awful place – perhaps this was his chance to finally put them to rest.
As he picked his way through the debris, wary of falling masonry, his eyes were drawn to what seemed to be a damaged filing cabinet. It was mostly hidden under a mound of concrete and rebar but its presence piqued his interest.
He carefully navigated the precarious ground until he was standing in front of it. His SOLDIER strength allowed him to remove the obstructing rubble as if were little more than cardboard, and before long the cabinet was fully exposed for his perusal.
He yanked what was left of each drawer open in turn. The first few were filled with ruined paper and dirt – he wasn't really sure what else he had expected.
The bottom drawer, however, seemed slightly more intact than the others. As he wrested it from the warped frame he noticed it held a metal box.
Lifting it out, he prised off the lid. Inside was a dirty plastic sleeve that contained a wire-bound booklet of sorts.
He pulled the thing out of its filthy wrapping and nearly keeled over in shock.
It was a calendar.
Years ago, when Sephiroth was at the height of his fame and the Silver Elite was a force to be reckoned with, the topic of Sephiroth-themed merchandise had been subject to intense discourse.
There had been figurines. Posters. T-shirts. Keychains. Most were available to the masses; a select few designs were only manufactured in extremely limited runs, leading to meltdowns and even death-threats amongst die-hard fans who were desperate to boast the complete collection.
Importantly, the officially-licensed pieces shared a defining characteristic: they were intended to be suitable for all ages.
This was a source of continued disappointment for many of Sephiroth’s adult fans who viewed their hero in a less-than-innocent light. They were instead forced to resort to photo-manipulations and original artworks to satisfy their proclivities. Shina had firmly disapproved, but such material had been enormously popular and attracted hundreds of thousands of views.
When an online rumour had surfaced surrounding the production of a Sephiroth-themed calendar, it had initially garnered limited attention, the same as any new product might.
However, this would all change when further details emerged.
This was not just any old calendar; this was to be the εγλ 0002 shirtless Sephiroth calendar.
The Silver Elite forums had exploded overnight. There had been no end of discussion about what the calendar might entail, or who had authorised it, and why Shinra was suddenly choosing to break their unspoken rule about keeping everything staunchly family-friendly.
Unfortunately, despite the hype, the vaunted product had never materialised.
The prevailing theory was that it had all been a hoax. However, several (anonymous) individuals had sworn that they had been involved with the project, and that they had even seen mock-ups of the final piece, which of course begged the question – if it did exist, why was it never released to the general public?
There had been various explanations postulated by the so-called ‘calendar-truthers’.
Perhaps, some said, Sephiroth himself had cancelled the project (either during a fit of modesty or at the behest of a secret lover – the jury was out).
Others speculated that a dedicated fan, jealous at the thought of such intimate images of their idol being made widely available, must have bought out the complete run before it could ever hit the open market.
Or maybe, one forum-user suggested, the photographs were so licentious they threatened the heterosexuality of any man who gazed upon them – after Rufus Shinra himself had been afflicted, the President had ordered all copies to be destroyed with immediate effect, lest the entire male population of Midgar suffer a sexual identity crisis.
But, whether you believed the project had ever existed or not, one thing was certain: there had never been any concrete proof.
Until today.
The hint of a smile crossed Cloud’s face as he remembered the heated online discussions he had participated in with other fans. He had been so invested.
And here it was – the long-awaited evidence and the holy grail of Sephiroth memorabilia. Somehow having survived an apocalypse.
(Gaia had a very strange sense of humour sometimes.)
It had been years since Cloud had regarded Sephiroth with anything but hatred and horror, but for a moment he felt as his sixteen-year-old self would have: overjoyed at having unearthed the answer to one of the Silver Elite’s most enduring and controversial mysteries.
He carefully tucked the sacred relic inside his jacket and left the remains of the tower, his heart thudding uncomfortably fast for some reason.
He found his motorcycle, which he had parked at the edge of the fallen city, then gunned it back to his apartment and made his way inside, locking the door behind him.
Only then did he bring out the calendar to look at it properly. He placed it on his kitchen table, still hardly able to believe he had it in his possession.
This whole situation was absurd – Sephiroth was a bona fide monster who had committed a host of atrocities, each more terrible than the last. Cloud should dispose of the thing without a second thought.
And yet, as he gazed upon the improbably glossy cover, he somehow managed to banish those thoughts to the back of his mind. (He had always been unfortunately talented at ignoring the voice of reason.)
The image of Sephiroth that had been chosen for the front was nothing short of breathtaking. He was seated astride an impressive-looking motorcycle, firmly gripping the handlebars with his face turned coyly towards the camera.
Cloud barely spared a glance for the vehicle. Instead, his eyes were immediately drawn to Sephiroth himself. The man was wearing his iconic leather pants and boots, but absolutely nothing on his top half.
His physique could only be described as flawless. He had broad, sculpted shoulders and arms. His chest, which had always been teased at from beneath his coat and harness, was now revealed in all its perfect, muscled glory.
His abdomen was equally awe-inspiring. Cloud worried he might actually be drooling as he followed the line of the man’s bulging abs to where they disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants.
He also became acutely aware that his own pants were getting uncomfortably tight.
He cleared his throat and readjusted his posture, trying to relieve some of the pressure against the unfortunate erection he was now sporting.
This was insane, he reminded himself firmly. Sephiroth was his sworn nemesis and a loathsome murderer beyond all hopes of redemption.
But, by Gaia, the man was fucking hot.
Cloud swallowed, sure that the room was several degrees warmer than it had been a few moments ago (perhaps there had been a malfunction with the heating?).
The indignant voice in his head reminding him of Sephiroth’s litany of crimes was becoming increasingly inaudible as his blood was progressively diverted south.
Sighing dramatically, he decided to adjourn to his bedroom.
He sprawled out across his bed and, after a moment’s thought, removed his pants.
More comfortable now, he resumed his appraisal.
It was very difficult to move beyond the captivating photo on the front, but in the end the temptation of further material was too great to resist.
With trembling hands, Cloud flipped the calendar open to January.
The accompanying picture for the month was Sephiroth in samurai-type garb, except the top half of his garment was mostly hanging off his shoulders. As a result, he was exposing the entirety of that delectable torso.
He was grasping the hilt of Masamune, but he held it non-threateningly to one side in an almost casual fashion. His searing green eyes were fixed soulfully on the viewer, a soft smile on his face.
Gaia. His fucking face.
In all Cloud’s recent memories, Sephiroth’s expression had been twisted with sadistic glee as he spat cruel insults and taunted Cloud with words like puppet.
Here, though, he seemed almost vulnerable. His eyes were wide and imploring. His expression had a poignant tenderness to it. He looked so fucking enticing and beautiful and it was breaking Cloud’s heart.
How dare he. He had absolutely no fucking business appearing in such a manner. Cloud tried to focus on his rage but his libido won a decisive victory instead, and he felt a bead of pre-cum form at the tip of his dick.
Preposterous. He was only on January for fuck’s sake.
Scowling moodily, and hoping his underwear survived the process, he turned to the next month.
February was even worse.
Sephiroth was emerging from a lake, dripping wet. His silvery hair was gleaming even more than usual and glistening trails of water ran down his muscles invitingly.
The waterline of the lake itself sat just above his pubic symphysis, the divots of his hips descending below the surface and out of sight. Cloud found himself both irritated and somewhat relieved that the rest was hidden from view.
He was certain that if any more of Sephiroth had been revealed, he would have spontaneously combusted (right after he orgasmed untouched, probably).
He allowed his gaze to wander across the page, taking in Sephiroth’s sultry gaze and those brilliantly unique eyes.
He glanced down to where Sephiroth’s divine body met the water.
He felt his cock throb insistently. More pre-cum was no doubt soaking through his undergarments.
This was absolutely hopeless.
Ugh, he groaned to himself. He carefully set the precious calendar aside then pulled his cock out of his underwear, determined to address this… biological inconvenience.
He was a man, who liked other men, and he was currently privy to a set of photographs featuring the most attractive man to ever walk the fucking Planet. He reassured himself that it really couldn’t be helped.
He tried to be somewhat clinical about it, jerking himself off with detached determination, but before long he had pulled the calendar back into view so he could continue looking at it while he masturbated.
Within an embarrassingly short amount of time he was coming explosively, Sephiroth’s name on his traitorous lips.
Afterwards, he felt the reality of what he'd just done (and who he'd looked at while doing it) was starting to set in, accompanied by no end of guilt.
I should be stronger than this, he thought angrily.
He stared moodily at the calendar. He’d been stressed recently, and lonely, and clearly finding it had broken something within his fragile psyche.
Get a grip, Strife, he thought savagely. This can’t happen again.
He placed the damnable thing in a drawer and tried to put it from his mind.
Cloud resolutely refused to look at it for the next week.
He continued to be extremely disappointed in himself, although he thought that he really didn't deserve to shoulder all the blame. This was the ultimate crown jewel of Sephiroth collectibles; if the Silver Elite were still around, he’d be an absolute legend. If he shared any of the images, he'd probably be promoted to President on the spot.
He had spent almost the entirety of his teenage years worshipping the ground Sephiroth stood on; was it any wonder he had been temporarily seduced?
But, as the days passed, Cloud found his mind drifting back to where he knew the calendar was waiting for him, tucked away in his bedroom.
He tried to distract himself but he couldn’t ignore it forever – it was as if its presence was taunting him. And he had only looked at the first two months. Who knew what further pleasures awaited?
One evening, with little else to do, Cloud found himself eyeing the drawer again.
I’m better than this, he thought to himself.
Then:
No I’m not. Fuck it.
Heart pounding from the sin he knew he was about to commit, he pulled open the drawer and (with painstaking care) took out the precious artefact.
He took a deep breath.
The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that there were nefarious forces at play.
He had held out for as long as possible, but the longer he avoided it, the more he found himself dwelling on it, his mind apparently hijacked by this seemingly nondescript item.
Perhaps it was imbued with some awful magic, and Sephiroth was using it to manipulate him somehow. (Was that even possible via the medium of printed paper? Cloud wouldn’t put it past him.)
There was nothing for it. He would have to go through the article in its horrifying entirety in order to lay bare its dark secrets.
It would no doubt be a terrible, traumatic ordeal, but Cloud had stopped Sephiroth on multiple occasions before. He was uniquely qualified to face up to this nightmare.
Given the intensity of the effect the calendar seemed to be having on him, he decided to limit himself to a month at a time. That would probably be safest.
Taking another fortifying breath, Cloud strengthened his resolve and gently flipped through the first couple of pages, alighting on the next month in the sequence.
The things I do for the sake of the Planet, he thought grimly. Still, they didn’t call him Gaia’s Champion for nothing.
March was cherry-blossom themed. Sephiroth had been photographed surrounded by branches bearing delicate pale-pink blooms. Again, he radiated a soft sexiness that had Cloud gritting his teeth in frustration.
The Sephiroth he knew was vicious and violent and wielded his katana with brutal and murderous efficiency.
He certainly didn’t recline on a bed of petals with an expression that could only be described as smouldering.
Sephiroth’s lower regions were tastefully covered with artfully-placed foliage and flowers, but the impression was that he was very much naked under there.
Cursing the evil spirits that were clearly infesting the paper before him, Cloud once again succumbed to the overwhelming urge to masturbate.
It’s OK, he thought to himself. The sooner I break the spell on this thing, the better.
Cloud was doing his level best to pretend that everything was the same as it always had been, but Tifa was infuriatingly perceptive, and apparently the effects of the calendar were more profound than he had first realised.
“You’ve seemed happier recently,” she had said to him, her eyes shining with a cautious hope. “Less… uptight.”
Cloud had made a show of scoffing and rolling his eyes. He reassured her he was as grumpy as ever, but secretly he found himself slightly worried.
Great Gaia, things were worse than he’d originally thought. He had never in his life been happy.
If he wasn’t careful, this thing might overwrite his entire personality.
It had been a busy week. Cloud’s delivery business was expanding nicely, but more customers meant more time driving between locations, and consequently more effort expended on dispatching the fiends that got in the way.
He was exhausted.
As he returned to his room, he knew that he was too tired to resist. Tonight would be a Calendar Night.
He had made his peace with the fact that this… item held him in its thrall. He had been careful to ration his exposure, but he knew there was only so long he could ignore its siren song before he yielded.
By only allowing himself to look at it in measured amounts, he reassured himself, he could still maintain some modicum of control.
He was doing this for the good of the Planet, after all. What if the calendar had ended up in the hands of a hapless civilian? Great Gaia, it didn’t bear thinking about.
No, this was his burden to carry. And he would emerge victorious, in the end.
Once again he retrieved the calendar from its hiding place. This time, he opened it to April, bracing himself for what he might find.
April was apparently set on a chocobo ranch. Sephiroth was standing next to an impressive golden bird, one hand placed reassuringly on its neck and the other holding its reins. He looked for all the world like some kind of cowboy. His hair was tastefully mussed and his well-defined muscles were streaked with a light layer of dirt, suggestive of a hard day’s physical labour.
It went without saying that he was shirtless again.
He was regarding the camera with a more confident expression than he’d had in previous months. It was as if he was saying, look how easily I can control this magnificent animal and bend it to my will.
The chocobo was certainly striking, Cloud noted moodily. It was looking at its handler with a soppy, trusting expression.
Of course Sephiroth would be an expert chocobo wrangler along with everything else.
Cloud applied a liberal amount of lubricant to his hands and firmly gripped his cock, staring unhappily at Sephiroth’s playful smirk as, once again, he jerked himself off.
He was now a third of the way through the calendar and yet was still no closer to understanding its unnatural powers.
This was troubling. He needed answers.
He supposed his friends were as good a place to start as any.
“Teef,” he said, “Do you think that objects can be… possessed?”
“Possessed? Like, by a ghost?” she asked, clearly confused.
“Yeah… something like that.”
Gaia, he hoped Sephiroth wasn’t actually present in the calendar somehow.
She fixed him with a strange look.
“I wouldn’t have thought so, no. I mean… there was that trainyard, but that wasn’t really an object, was it? …Did you have a specific example in mind?”
“Uhh, not really,” said Cloud quickly, and that was the end of that conversation.
The scene for May had been shot in the Mythril mines. Sephiroth was leaning nonchalantly against a wall and was staring scorchingly into the camera lens.
He looked absolutely beautiful, the luminescence of the ore really highlighting his ridiculous musculature to perfection.
Sephiroth had always appeared somewhat otherworldly - a side-effect of his unnatural biology - but here he seemed even more ethereal than ever before. The dramatic lighting seemed to make his eyes glow even more than usual.
Cloud stared back, mesmerised by their haunting intensity.
For a bizarre moment, he pictured Sephiroth wearing a hardhat and toting a pickaxe – maybe even with a high vis jacket slung across his shoulders. He smiled at the absurd mental image.
The man was far too sophisticated for that.
Maybe this whole calendar is riddled with Jenova cells, thought Cloud darkly. Maybe that’s why I find it so enticing.
…It couldn’t be that Sephiroth was just that hot.
In June, Sephiroth was sat in a laboratory holding a test tube of what appeared to be mako. A pristine lab coat covered his shoulders and arms but otherwise hung completely open, ensuring his muscular torso was prominently displayed.
He looked particularly thoughtful, as if he was contemplating the meaning of life itself. His hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and – great Gaia – he was wearing glasses.
Cloud had only just registered this intriguing detail when he found himself in the throes of an unexpected orgasm, spurting cum with an appalled whimper.
He hadn’t so much as laid a finger on his dick, and he certainly hadn’t had the chance to remove his pants first.
“This has got to stop!” he snarled to himself.
Suppressing the urge to scream, he stomped off towards the bathroom to begin the process of cleaning himself up.
Really, the Planet had better be fucking grateful for his sacrifice.