[Perhaps there will be a day in which Vincent can make the realization that very little of what happened those years ago was his fault. That he didn't dictate any of Lucrecia's choices, that she committed to something heinous out of her own free will. At the moment, all he can think is that he's painted her in such an ill light before Toph and Sephiroth both. That he's done her such a disservice. If they knew her, they'd understand surely.

Vincent's lips press into a flat line, and he looks away, chest tight.]

I wanted to. When I confronted Hojo he... ensured that I was incapable of doing anything at all. [Frankly, he speaks:] He killed me. Then revived me to experiment on me for the next few years following. By the time he was done with me, Sephiroth must have been... three or four, I think.