Yazoo still wasn’t sure just what he felt towards the blond man Kadaj used to call Big Brother and Sephiroth called a puppet more often than not. He supposed he should feel angry. The man did kill Kadaj after all. Still, Yazoo did remember the way Cloud Strife held Kadaj at the end.
There was no hatred in the man.
He did not want to kill Yazoo’s brother.
Kadaj simply didn’t leave him any other option. Yazoo knew their brother’s obsession would eventually lead to that. To death. Their final Reunion. Out of all of them, Yazoo was the oldest and also the one that heard Mother the faintest. It was Kadaj who could speak to Mother as if she was right there, in front of him. Loz heard her too, not as strongly as Kadaj, but he loved her in a way that none of the others did. He truly did love her like a child would love its mother. Kadaj had an odd love/hate relationship with Jenova, driven by his own ambition and bitterness that he could not be the only one in Mother’s heart, the best one, that he would only ever be a Remnant.
Yazoo only had his family, only had his brothers. It didn’t really matter if he wanted the Reunion or not, if he wanted to find mother. He only ever wanted to be with his brothers. Not to be alone.
For him, Cloud Strife did not matter, not really.
The man has killed them all, eventually. Yazoo couldn’t hold that against him however, because it was what finally lead to their own Reunion. It gave them chance to be truly together, in a way that even joining their flesh would not achieve.
It was lovely there, in the bright and warm place.
Until Sephiroth ripped them apart again.
Yazoo wanted to hate the man for it. Hate him for the fact that he ripped Yazoo from what he wanted the most, brought him back to life in agony, giving him this flesh as a prison and forever severing Yazoo’s connection to his brothers.
They were dead while he was alive, truly alive, and it left him utterly, horrifically alone. Not for a moment in his life had he been so alone before. Ever since he took his first breath, Loz and Kadaj were there. Sharing his thoughts, his feelings, protecting and shielding him from his own mind.
Now the only man he could connect to was the same man that ripped him apart.
With one thought, one command, one Call, the man filled Yazoo with such an overwhelming sense of belonging, of need and love that it almost brought him to his knees.
Yazoo no longer had a choice. He was informed, rather casually, that should he try to commit suicide, Sephiroth would simply bring him back. Even thinking about harming Sephiroth or working against him was impossible. The connection between him and Yazoo made sure that Sephiroth was aware of Yazoo’s general intent, his emotional state of mind, and filled the Remnant with this undeniable need to help, to please.
He also informed Yazoo, that should he perform the tasks set for him accordingly, his brothers would be brought back, too.
That pretty much closed the deal for Yazoo. If he could get his brothers back and stop his howling emptiness inside him from driving him insane, then he would do absolutely anything to aid the General.
So far the tasks had been surprisingly menial. No killing, no mayhem and terror. Just setting the camp. Gathering supplies and information for days on end, turning the City of Ancient into something more than simply their base.
He wasn’t told, but Yazoo thought that Sephiroth was preparing the city for more than two people.
The older man was not okay though. Not as insane as the rumors claimed he was before Strife killed him, but fragmented somehow.
He spent hours upon hours in the pool of lifestream. Sometimes it would be even days at a time, not eating, not sleeping, sometimes not even breathing, and he tried to communicate with the damaged materia he held so dear.
It scared Yazoo a little, how not only lifestream but also the very City seemed to answer to the man’s will. The changes were sudden, the sheer force of will the man could focus and direct was staggering to Yazoo, who caught the echoes of the changes though the bond they shared. A bond that kept Yazoo sane and somehow functioning.
It took two of his brothers and Mother by proxy to stabilize him before. Now he only had that husk of a fragmented mind as a stabilizing influence.
And now Cloud Strife.
Yazoo would never choose him as an anchor. Once he imprinted on a person it was done. He would forever be connected, forever have them as a part of him, a part of his own defense.
Sephiroth wanted him to imprint Cloud Strife, their broken brother.
Yazoo could feel it in the way Sephiroth pulled at the bond, tearing at the fragile edges, forcing Yazoo to act, to save his own sanity. Sephiroth Called, and Strife obviously answered. Not willingly, not in any way Yazoo or any of the other clones have ever answered, but enough to show Yazoo that the bonding could be easy.
There was already a bond between the older man and the blond, a different, older bond that seemed to be supported by outside forces. What, he did not know and was too afraid to search for. Whatever that force was, it transcended more than one death, time and space. It basically transcended everything to connect those two with unshakable bonds. If he focused he could see the faint threads that connected the pair, the strong, straight ones that emerged from the General, the haphazard, gentle ones that were obviously a creation of the blond. An unskilled and fairly messy thing, but nonetheless very strong. Sephiroth’s connections were made consciously while Strife probably didn’t even know he did such a thing. Or didn’t acknowledge it consciously. But among them were many, many others. Darker threads that twined around the pair like weeds, catching everything and everyone. Yazoo could not see the beginning or end to them, only the tight, almost scary desperation with which the threads shot through the very souls of the two men. Whoever did this was even more entwined in that pair than even Yazoo’s brothers were with him. Even their connection wasn’t that deep, that completely unbreakable.
It didn’t really matter what they would do, those threads would never be broken. Because even as he watched, new ones formed. Some simply strengthened the previous ones, some entwined in Sephiroth’s connections, rooting them even deeper into Strife’s soul.
It was monstrous.
It was endless.
Even as he feared those threads, feared the power behind them, he could not help but feel a little jealous. If his brother’s wanted it this much, their connection wouldn’t be broken, too...
Those thoughts were useless now, however. What was done, was done. The only thing he could do was move forward, try to rebuild as much of his life as possible.
In a way, he was trying to do the same thing Sephiroth did.
With a final sigh he opened himself to the older man’s Call, letting himself be pulled into the echoes of feeling that would never be directed at him.
Sephiroth really was a master tactician. He forced Yazoo to do what Sephiroth needed him to do by making that thing something that Yazoo needed for himself.
Taking the first step out of the shadows, towards the pair across the room from him, Yazoo truly wished he could hate the General. He couldn’t though, because the man was everything Yazoo had left of his family.