Title: Striving to be Human
Summary: Two identical souls, hidden beneath different masks. They both had an enemy. But how do you wage war with yourself? ჯ Pairings inside.
Pairings: Complicated. Onesided Gen/Seph, onesided Seph/Rufus, Gen/OC/Rufus, very possibly many others.
Beta: Unbeta-ed.
Warnings: Character death, violence, language, teenage themes.
A/N: Hellooo, my dear readers. It's my first FFVII fanfic, and personally, I think it's my best fanfic so far! It will begin a few years before the Wutai War and will progress rapidly to post-AC and beyond. Updates will be slow until summer break, when it will hopefully speed up. Chapters will be longer than this. Reviews would be lovely. Criticism is GREATLY appreciated!
::Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
~ Unwritten::
~Prologue~
Picture Wutai.
Lush forests filled with the incessant chattering of animals, contrasting starkly against barren mountain ranges prowled by starved predators and aggressive monsters. In the forest, the streams sparkle in the filtered sunlight and the agile fish within dart about, a rainbow of glittering scales. At the origin of the streams, far up upon the mountain ranges, the water does not sparkle but froths madly, cascading down the bare rock in a furious frenzy. Yet the vibrant forests are where most meet their deaths rather than the lonely mountains, for in the shrubbery hides the patient snake and the lurking tiger.
Of course, the Wutaia ninjas that live in those forests have nothing to do with those deaths—especially the ones of Shin-Ra personnel.
What? You don't believe me?
The Wutaia people are a lot like the land they live on. They seem charming yet mystical, their culture beautifully refined and their manners immaculate. They are very proud and prize their way of life above all else. But cloaked under their mystique is a fierce cunning and almost maniacal independence. They will fight to the end to protect their family, land and honor—especially their honor.
Really, what was Shin-Ra thinking when they tried to infringe on Wutaia property?
Oh, right. President Shinra was in charge, the power-hungry, obese, lowly—
I apologize. I'm getting off topic.
Picture Wutai… again.
Now zoom in on the forest nestled between the mountain ranges ringing central Wutai. The trees in this area are quite peculiar. Their branches have grown in such a way that they interlace each other, their leaves blocking sunlight from reaching the ground below. Even in the winter no sunlight graces the earth, because the dead leaves of the trees are trapped by the fine thread-like branches. The first Wutaia settlers that discovered this place were intrigued by the strange trees, and they decided it was a perfect place for concealment. Even back then, the Wutaia spirit ran through their blood.
Since then, the trees have been slowly shaped by the will of the rare geomancer that graces the nation. Now, none can distinguish these trees from the rest. Let us delve deeper and see what lies beneath the branches. Let's see… darkness, darkness, darkness, more darkness, dark—ah yes, a settlement.
Wait, you say. A settlement? It's pitch black down there!
Not true, say I. Do you seriously believe that the revered geomancers of the past should make such an amateurish mistake? No, the sages easily compensated for the lack of sunlight. I believe this was their reasoning.
No sunlight, you say? Well, our powers aren't quite on par with the sun. How does moonlight sound, eh chap?
Well. Maybe not quite like that.
Regardless of what really happened, the end result was a gigantic "materia" mounted on a tree. It shone like the moon—or so people claimed. Back then, I had never seen the moon before, and wouldn't know. The "moonlight" gave everything a beautiful silvery sheen, but that also caused colors to become dull and gray, for only the vibrant light of the sun could bring out true color. However, the occupants of the village didn't mind. Some, like me, had never seen true color and couldn't tell the difference.
Besides these strange features, the hidden village was quite peaceful and ordinary in its ways. Sort of.
Welcome to Mikazuki Village, my isolated hometown.
A floating behemoth of rugged asphalt and cold steel hangs above the shadowed city that lies meekly upon the ground. Viewed from above, Midgar resembles a metallic pizza with eight sections and a sky-high decoration in the form of a building. The huge building, labeled Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, squats in the middle of the levitating metropolis, a greedy parasite sucking out the lifeblood of The Planet. From within, an overweight bastard of a man in a red suit rules most of the world with an iron fist, albeit one clad in velvet. From without, Gaia makes her displeasure with the parasite clear. The skies above the smoke-belching city are eternally gloomy and dark, save for a lone beam of sunlight gracing the interior of a single church that lies beneath the solemn metal plates of Midgar.
What makes it so special, that Gaia Herself would go out of Her way to bring it light?
Something, or nothing, depending on who you asked.
Above "the plate," as the denizens of this dystopian world calls it, life is good – despite the weather being horrible. Not that anybody notices, since it is always this way. The weather, I mean; not life. The wealthy families living up here live a luxurious lifestyle; upper Midgar is mostly crime-free, has fine architecture and refined entertainment such as the famous play LOVELESS. There is only the best for the influential men that practically rule the world.
But if one were to take a peek below the plate, they would be shocked by the squalor of "the slums," as the filthy, ramshackle city below the plate has been dubbed. Most below the plate live out their entire too-short lives without ever seeing the sky—not that there's much to see, anyway. They spend their lives in constant terror of monster attacks and view any rough shelter from the dangers of the world as their home. Children and adults alike resort to thievery as their hard-earned gil is sucked away by the rich, who have never heard the language of an empty stomach or felt the icy grip of terror as a pack of monsters descend upon them. The occupants of the slums have long ago had their rebellious spirit driven out of them, though, and do not fight the iron grip of their oppressor. But things will change.
Meet the heralds of a new age.
A beautiful young girl with her mother tends the only flowers that grow in Midgar.
A tall teenage boy stands beside a man with black hair and glasses, his cat-like eyes downcast.
A street rat with a shock of red hair wonders briefly what it's like to be a Turk.
And a small strawberry blonde child dressed in immaculate white stands at the side of the ruler of the world.
Welcome to Midgar, the epitome of human engineering.
Review, please! I love criticism, praise, predictions... everything. Except flames. I always want to improve my writing.
Do I sound annoying...?