The halls of the mansion were quiet, painted in faint streaks of morning gray. Helios slipped from his room without a sound, sparing one last glance at Skuld curled up on his bed. She breathed evenly, strands of her hair spilling across the pillow. He let the door shut softly behind him, then started down the corridor.
His steps carried him to another door—heavier, more imposing, its frame casting long shadows across the floor.
Sephiroth's room.
Helios pushed it open with care. Inside, the swordsman sat on the edge of the bed, bare-chested, silver hair falling loose like a waterfall down his back. The vertical cut from his shoulder to his waist had healed, but the scar tissue still remained. His coat hung over the chair nearby, the leather split wide by a vertical gash that ran shoulder to waist. A reminder of the night's duel.
Helios tilted his head, lips quirking. "Well, that's a sad sight. Here, let me fix it."
With a flick of his fingers, he murmured a spell. Threads glowed faintly, the torn seam stitching itself whole again. In moments, the coat looked as though it had never been touched.
Sephiroth's green eyes shifted toward him, cool and sharp. "Thanks."
Helios grinned. "You're welcome. After all, I caused it."
He leaned against the doorframe, studying him. Sephiroth's posture was immaculate, as always, but Helios knew the signs—the stiffness in his shoulders, the controlled rhythm of his breathing. He was hurt, badly, even if he'd never admit it.
"You know," Helios said, chuckling, "I've never seen you look so rough before. Almost… mortal. It's a far cry from your normal imposing look. I must say it suits you."
Sephiroth didn't answer. His face was unreadable marble.
Helios spread his hands, smirking. "Relax. I'm joking. For the most part." He wandered in, dragging a chair forward and spinning it around to sit backward on it, arms folded on the backrest. "Anyway, even if the fight ended in a draw, we still took the top three spots in the Advanced Cup. Which means Zack's probably already collected our winnings."
At that, Sephiroth's lips twitched. The faintest curve—barely there, but Helios caught it.
"I figured," Sephiroth said. "That one never stops talking about how little money we have."
Helios laughed. "Exactly. He kept calling it 'a good breather,' but I know he just wanted the money. Kid thinks I don't notice, but the way he was practically bouncing when I saw him earlier means he's already counted the money, and I'm betting when the betting counter handed over the card, he jumped for joy. Plus, subtlety isn't his strength."
Sephiroth exhaled, the closest thing to a chuckle Helios had ever coaxed out of him.
Helios leaned forward on the chair, elbows on the wood. "He really is a chatterbox, though. Talks in his sleep sometimes, did you know that? Kept me up once for an entire night, rambling about how he was going to 'finally be a hero.' I was tempted to drop him off in the Underworld just so he could test it out."
The corner of Sephiroth's mouth curved again, barely. To anyone else, it was nothing. To Helios, it was a laugh.
"See?" Helios said, pointing. "That's your version of amusement. Don't deny it. I've spent too long watching that stone face of yours not to notice."
Sephiroth looked away, but the silence was answer enough.
Helios stretched his arms out with a groan. "So, tell me straight. How bad is it? Can you move at all?"
"Enough," Sephiroth replied. His tone was flat, but his shoulders shifted slightly. "Skuld's healing was effective, but to fight properly will take days."
Helios eyed him for a long moment. Then he snapped his fingers. Three successive waves of Curaga burst outward, enveloping both of them in soft emerald light. Warmth seeped into muscle and bone, dulling the deep ache.
Helios rolled his neck with a sigh. "Ah, that's better. At least I don't feel like my ribs are grinding anymore."
Sephiroth inclined his head slightly. "The pain is lessened."
Helios leaned back in his chair, smirk spreading again. "You know, if anyone walked in right now, they'd think we were actually friends. Sitting here, patching each other up, sharing the stories. Pretty domestic for two guys who just tried to cut each other in half a little while ago."
Sephiroth didn't respond, but Helios caught the faint exhale, the narrowing of his eyes. He was amused, in his own way.
"You're hopeless," Helios said, laughing. "But I like that about you. You don't need to say much. I can read you fine."
For a moment, the room was quiet except for their breathing. Helios rose from the chair, brushing dust from his coat.
"Well, I'll let you get back to brooding. Don't overdo it, okay."
He was halfway through the door when Sephiroth's voice halted him.
"Helios."
He turned. "Hm?"
Sephiroth met his gaze, eyes steady as ever. "You've grown much stronger. Far stronger than the boy who first begged me for training."
Helios raised a brow.
"Now," Sephiroth said, his voice as flat as steel but carrying weight, "you are nearly my equal."
For once, Helios' grin faltered. Then it returned, sharp and bright. "Careful. Talk like that, I might start thinking you're going soft. I might even think you actually like me."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned again. "Equal, huh? Fine. Next time, I'll actually win."
Sephiroth didn't answer, but Helios caught the faintest flicker of a smirk as he stepped out into the hall.