In a tattered but still barely habitable shack, Seff sat on one side while the man who fought like a wild beast sat across from him.
Stripped of his shredded shirt and revealing his upper body, Seff was calmly applying medicine to his wounds. The other man, however, was far more crude, he slapped a chunk of ointment onto his injuries and gave it a half-hearted rub, calling it done.
Seff glanced over at him, wanting to speak several times, but ultimately swallowed his words.
He knew full well that saying anything would be pointless. Even if the man pretended to listen, saying "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Quit nagging", he'd go right back to doing the same thing next time.
He had no idea how much time had passed anymore.
Once fully immersed in battle, days and nights blurred together in a blink.
Before coming to Zaraki District, Seff could say with confidence that he had maxed out all his skills, yet he had very little true combat experience.
In the beginning, fighting this man, Seff gradually honed the instincts of life-or-death combat. He turned battle into reflex, and instinct into power.
He thought he had reached his limit, only to realize that the limit he sensed was merely what he had believed to be his limit.
And so, he kept pushing past it, again and again.
First came battle instinct, then raw power, and soon after, spiritual pressure.
Midway through their prolonged fight, Seff had already learned to fly short distances using spiritual pressure and to soar freely across long ranges. Techniques that had once only been feasible in the air, or through complex forms, were now integrated into his arsenal thanks to the man's relentless "sparring."
This time, Seff didn't yet feel that his limit had arrived, but he knew with clarity: the battle was nearing its end.
As he'd said before, they had both grown too familiar with each other's moves. Without some revolutionary change in power or style, this could no longer be called a battle. It was just... trading blows.
To keep going would be wasteful at best, meaningless at worst.
"Hey, you bastard. It's about time you headed out, isn't it?"
Thanks to his reckless method of applying medicine, despite having far more injuries than Seff, the man was the first to finish.
Tossing aside his jagged, saw-like blade, he lifted his head and stared at Seff with a savage gaze, shouting his question without restraint.
"Yeah, I guess it is."
Seff didn't even look up, continuing to apply medicine as he replied.
"Kinda a shame though. I didn't get to kill the legendary maniac of Zaraki like the rumors said I would."
He even joked a little.
Hearing this, the man bared his hideous grin.
"You'll need more than that to kill me. I'll be right here, waiting for you to try again, so long as you don't end up the one getting killed next time!"
Since Seff was already planning to leave, the man had nothing more to say.
To Seff, continuing the fight was meaningless now. To the man, this kind of prolonged struggle, while not as raw as their initial clash, was still infinitely better than mowing down weaklings. That was no real battle, just swinging a blade at meat.
But he didn't voice these thoughts, nor did he try to make Seff stay.
"I probably won't be back for a while. Don't go getting yourself killed before I do."
It was hard letting go of an opponent so perfectly matched with him, one who grew stronger alongside him.
But the old saying rang true: too much is as bad as too little. They had come together with the intensity of long-lost rivals, throwing everything they had into trying to kill each other. And now, they were left with nothing new to try.
If they'd been the sort to train and improve side by side, like proper sparring partners, this stagnation wouldn't have hit for another five or ten years.
Seff figured that the next time he returned, it would either be after he had forgotten this man's patterns... or after his own power had evolved again.
The man didn't answer, just snorted derisively.
After all, if someone could've killed him, the legend of the Zaraki Butcher wouldn't have survived for centuries, and Seff would never have come looking for him.
With that, their conversation stopped.
The man said no more, and Seff silently finished applying the medicine.
Some time passed before Seff wiped himself down with clean water and changed into a fresh set of clothes.
Though their battle had torn up most of the district, Zaraki was vast. By consciously directing their destruction, they'd left one direction mostly untouched.
The result was this battered shack, just barely stable enough to store the supplies Seff had brought: spare clothes, medicine, food, water.
He wasn't worried about theft. Frankly, if someone managed to sneak in during their fight and steal anything, both he and the man would probably be thrilled.
"I'll leave the clothes, they probably won't fit you anyway. I'll take just enough food and water for the trip back. The rest, including the medicine, is yours."
Seff said as he finished dressing.
He'd packed generously, not knowing how long things would drag out. Growing up in District 80, he knew well how scarce resources were here.
But he'd found the man on his first try. The fight broke out right after, saving a ton of time and effort, and leaving him with extra supplies.
Seff didn't plan to take them back.
Even though they'd spent the entire time trying to kill each other, there was no real hatred between them. After so long failing to land a killing blow, a strange sense of kinship had formed.
"I ain't thanking you."
Despite the words, the man's savage grin betrayed his satisfaction. In this resource-starved district, these supplies were undeniably valuable.
Not being happy about it would be more surprising. He was a battle junkie, not a fool or an ascetic.
"Well, I guess it's time I head out."
Seff adjusted the blade at his waist, frowning slightly.
The man noticed and raised an eyebrow.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing… or maybe…" Seff muttered, then drew the blade and gave it a few swings.
"It just feels… wrong in my hands lately."
Sephiroth could swing a blade over two meters long with one arm, but Seff was no monster like that.
In life, the best he could manage was a meter-long, forged craftsman's blade. That's why he'd adapted so easily to the current weapon after death.
But now, as his strength grew, the blade was starting to feel… off. Whether swinging or striking, it felt like something was missing.
"If it doesn't feel right, just change it. What's there to be all twisted up about?"
The man leaned lazily against the wall, arms folded behind his head, speaking casually.
"You're not wrong."
Seff nodded thoughtfully, but just as he did, something flickered at the edge of his vision.
It looked like someone, wielding a blade, was creeping toward the man, who was still leaning against the wall.
But when Seff turned, there was nothing there.
Only the man, now staring at him in confusion.
"What? If you're leaving, then get moving. Don't drag it out. Or stay and fight me again!"
"…You beast," Seff said with a helpless smile and shake of his head.
Still, it reminded him of something.
"By the way, I'm Seff. What about you?"
Only now did Seff suddenly realize, they'd fought for so long, yet didn't even know each other's names.
Surprisingly, the man stopped for a moment.
"Name? I don't have one. Don't need one either."
"…I dunno. I think names are important. At the very least, it gives guys like me something to call you."
Seff didn't plan to name the man himself.
But before leaving, he said this:
"A name is important. It's what makes someone a person, instead of just a beast. I hope next time we meet, you've given yourself one."
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters
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