In the end, Wutai fell to ShinRa's demands. Both sides suffered heavy casualties, but the proud nation was no match for ShinRa's elite SOLDIER division. The Mako-infused super soldiers crushed the remaining Wutai forces, ending all hope for the nation to remain free. All they could do was accept defeat and try to hang onto their pride.
"...Are you sure? Is this what you really want?"
"I see no other way out of this, no other way I can escape with some scrap of my pride left in tact." Jian sipped his hot tea as he spoke with his father. Both men sat solemnly at the table in a stiff seiza. Despite the deathly calm manner in which they spoke, the tension in the air coated them like a thick fog. There was a long silence between the two men, each resolving themselves to the events that were about to occur, realizing the severity of Jian's decisions.
"I understand...How long do you have?"
"Long enough to say goodbye."
Jian finished his tea, rising from the family's table. His father rose as well. Though he was a fair deal shorter than his son, Quinyui carried himself with the dignity of a man twice his size. His face was stone set, devoid of emotion save for a sharp gleam in his eyes, an unplacable intensity. Jian took a single step forward, but found that his father was unmoving, standing as a monolith in his path. There was a moment of unmoving tension between the two before Quinyui closed the space between them. He drew his eldest son in a tight hug, turning his face from Jian's to hide the emotion breaking through. "Jian, my boy...No matter what, I want you to know that I am proud of you. You have my blessing, and the blessing of my fathers before me. We will all be watching over you on this day." He struggled to keep his voice level, but it rang strong and true to it's meaning.
Jian wrapped his arms around his father's aging frame, his brows furrowing from strain as he struggled to keep his composure. He would need an iron resolve if he was to go through with this. To break down now would devastate the long hours of meditating on the thought, the careful planning and consideration he had put into his choice. If he fell to his emotions now, he might back down. "Thank you, Father." There were so many words he wanted to tell him, day's worth of praise and thanks, but those three would have to suffice. Any more would only muddle their meaning and weaken his resolve.
The two men broke their embrace and regarded one another a final time. A moment passed where neither moved, simple met each others gaze before Quinyui stepped aside, giving Jian access to the rest of the apartment. Jian gave the slightest nod of his head, a final farewell, before walking past him.
He moved to the kitchenette where his mother stood, looming over the sink, the dishrag wiping down a plate that long since had been wiped clean. Her motions were autonomous to her thoughts, acting as though hypnotized, her gaze a million miles away. Jian knew that she had been listening to the conversation he and his father just had over tea. She knew of his intentions, knew that he was final in his decision.
Jian approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his tall head on her shoulder. She jumped just slightly, dropping the plate and rag back into the soapy depths of the sink. For a small eternity, they just stood there, frozen in that embrace. "I love you," he whispered to his mother, the shining light of his life. Her small body trembled to hear it, beginning to shudder with stifled sobs. Her tears finally fell through, unable to give her son the words that he needed. There were not words to express herself. Her tears were the most honest answer she could offer.
Jian broke from her, cutting off the embrace. He could not comfort her, could not try to soothe away her tears. He could not suffer with her, could not take her pain. It wasn't his place to, not anymore. He had too much riding on his shoulders, too much that needed all of his heart and soul. His father would have to go to her, to kiss away her tears and assure her that it was all for the better, that Jian was doing what was right and just, following his own path.
He moved to his room, his feet seeming to float over the ground, the entire world beginning to feel like a dream. Everything was so surreal, and yet, he found that in this bizarre half-reality, it was much easier to carry out what he knew he must. It felt as though he was drifting above the worry and doubt that would pull him from his decision. Here, his will felt flawless.
He put on his uniform, SOLDIER First Class, standard issue. The pommels were weighty against his shoulders, the stomach plate as constraining as ever. The uniform itself acted as a prison. It always made Jian feel trapped, boxed in and branded with the ShinRa logo. It made him feel cheap, mass produced and plastic.
He looked at the pair of blades that he normally wielded into work, the cold, standard issue blades that bore that damnable logo on their hilt. They were just as cheap as the rest of them, lifeless and loveless. No, he would not be bearing them on this day. Instead, he took up the blades that he knew well. They were of Wutai make. He knew this, had spoken with and shaken the hand of the man that had forged them. They sang with the pride of his homeland. Their tsukas were worn into perfect grips for his hands and his hands alone, and he understood their bodies as well as a lover. He raised the blades and gave a respectful bow to them, honoring his tools, before fastening them to his belt. Today, he wasn't ShinRa, he wasn't SOLDIER. Today, he was Wutai.
As a final touch, he reached into his desk drawer, pulling from it a worn tanto. It was hand made, a gift from some of his men back in Wutai. The knife had a hand carved blade, decorated with an engraving of a phoenix. He had loved it and carried it with him everywhere, making sure to keep it on his person during his field missions. On more than one occasion, it had come in handy, had saved his life at least once. He took the small blade in it's scabbard and slipped it underneath his stomach plate.
He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, and released it, casting off more buzzing thoughts of doubt as he did so. His feet carried him from his room to the living area. And it was there he found his younger brother. He was sitting on the couch, eyes cast on the TV, watching the morning news for lack of anything better to do. Little Fu was already twelve years old, just on the cusp of adulthood, only beginning to learn what it meant to be a man. Jian could hope that his decision would act as a good example for him.
Jian moved close to the couch, standing just out of sight as he pondered just what to do. "...Fu," he muttered only loud enough to catch his attention. "can I have a talk with you for a minute?"
The boy turned to him, revealing a face that already looked so much like his own. "Yea, what's up?" The light seemed to fade from his eyes as he absorbed the heavy aura that Jian brought with him. His brother drew close, kneeling in front of him to look into his eyes.
"I want to give you a little advice...I want to share with you what I've learned in these last few years of my life." He swallowed, bedding down the millions of words he had to say, letting only a few trickle forward. "Fu, I want you to grow up into something you can be proud of. Never do anything that you can't live with. Never make any decisions that could make you hate yourself. Always be what you want to be, what you are proud to be. Strive to hold onto your honor, the honor of your family, and the honor of your people. Never forget where we come from, who we are...Stand up for what you believe in, and always fight to see that the right choice is upheld. Be a model to others, set an example for the world...and whatever you do, never forget that your big brother loved you more than anything."
He found that he was able to smile for him...no, because of him. This boy, his brother, was his own second chance. He was a blank slate, one who had the whole world to make his own. Fu could stand up where Jian was forced to fall. Only the years ahead could tell what difference Fu would make, years that Jian would never see, but Jian knew that he had the chance, right now, to point him in the right direction, not only with the words he offered him, but with his actions. He pulled his brother into a hug, burying his face in the smooth curve of his neck.
Fu's eyes were baffled with an utter lack of understanding. He took in his brother's words, returned his embrace, and yet, he couldn't understand what brought his brother to rise to such words. But, it sounded important, and Fu took each syllable to heart. "And I love you, too, Brother."
Silence persisted as the two held each other, swimming in the bond that tied them together. Jian broke away, rising to his feet. They met one another's eyes, Fu searching desperately for answers. When he could find none in his brother's mako-lit orbs, he opened his mouth to ask, but Jian shook his head, quickly leaving the room.
That was it, he had said his final peace. He could stand no more, couldn't bear the weight of being in his home any longer. It urged him too harshly to forget his resolve, to fall back into line and forget his decision. But he couldn't do that. His mind was long since made up, and if he didn't stand up now, he feared that he never would. It was now or never, and never wasn't an option. He had to maintain his pride, to salvage his shattered honor.