Disclaimer: FFX/X-2/VII aren't mine. They're Squaresoft's. Bah. But the story's mine........
Note - I haven't read 400 FFX-2 fanfics, so I think the originality of this is.....original, but I can't be sure. So don't moan if you think I've stolen characters or storylines! And it features Shinra and other FFX-2 things, mainly locations so I put it here instead of anywhere else (just read on to see).
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Prologue
Shinra looked around at the devastated land. The war had taken a great toll on Spira. But his home, the beloved Bikanel Island, was no more than a home to Cactuars now. And it didn't seem like the happy cactuars either. He looked at a lone one in the distance of the vast, empty desert. It looked back and ran at him, but a cactuar was no problem to Shinra. He pulled a dagger out of his sleeve and threw it clean into the small fiends' head. And then silence.
Shinra took one last look at his childhood, remembering the Guado destroy it, how he first met Yuna here, when Lord Nibel launched his attack on the island, and indeed the world, then walked slowly back to the airship.
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Was anyone left? Shinra flew an airship, the remains of the once proud Celsius, alone. He would land it if he saw people, but he never did. Never any that didn't get attacked by fiends. He knew someone needed to restore order to the small population of Spira. Build a town, a city. He knew there was a way, the Farplane energy. But of course, the Farplane erupted during the Great War, running like water through a small island. If he could...It was impossible, though. He didn't have the right apparatus to take the power, and even if he did, it'd take years. But...
They needed a place to live. He'd only found a few, but there were people hiding among the ruins of towns. Luca was home to a few, he'd met. But they would prefer death to what they had. A prospect of a new Zanarkand, not one like the City of the Dead they lived in, but the real Zanarkand. Shinra had to help. Somehow.
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A man walked through the plains of what was once probably the Mi'hen Highroad on the back of a chocobo. He was lucky, he'd found a nest of them hiding near a cave, too scared of the giant snake living in the marshland. He'd been able to train them, and he rode them over the marsh, past the menacing fiend, and to safety. After surveying the land, the man supposed the chocobos were too quick for most fiends, as there had been so many of the unsent that the world crawled with them, and he rode to the distant mountains.
But as he rode, he saw someone. There was a survivor here, and only a child, alone and away from his family, or hers', as their face was hidden by a mask.
"A survivor? What's your name?"
"Shinra." the survivor replied, muffled by the mask.
"Were your parents killed in the war?" the man asked.
"No, they died when the world was at peace." the boy, as he could tell it was a boy, said solemnly.
"Peace? That was over 300 years ago? An unsent?"
"No," he said, "I could die if I wanted, but this world needs order. And you'll help me to build my city, because I'm just a kid. Tell me your name and I'll take you aboard my airship."
"Midgar." the man said.
"Very well Midgar. You will help me, and once the world has been fixed you will receive the rewards you deserve. Tell me, have you ever heard of Zanarkand?"
"Of course I have," Midgar replied, "But why?"
"The power I'm harnessing will create a city much like the Zanarkand of Old. It will be safety for all the citizens of Spira. I shall name it after you."
"Okay then, Shinra." said Midgar, a quiver in his voice. Why was this child so well spoken? "Shall we leave?"
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The airship had been destroyed in Shinra's travels. Shortly after the eighth Power Harnesser was built, resources needed to be found to build housing. Midgar died aboard it, as well as some valuable assets to Shinra's team. But true to his word, the City of Midgar was now the centre of the Planet. Shinra walked down these streets. He was smiling behind his mask at the city, grimier than he'd hoped, but Zanarkand nonetheless. How Yuna and her lover would have felt if they were still in this world. But no, they were gone, as were Rikku, and Brother, and Buddy, and Paine, the few real friends he'd had in his life. And his mother, whatever happened to her, and his father. And the Crimson Squad. Reduced to nothingness. Shinra knew he had the choice though. His suit could allow him the eternal life he'd loved, the one that gave him friends. His thousands of years of life had given him the intelligence greater than Maechen, the maesters, Trema himself. But he'd have to join his friends in the stream of the Farplane one day. One day, some day.
Shinra picked up a sphere, so commonly found nowadays, and looked. No movie to it. An ability, perhaps? It didn't matter though; everyone had magic nowadays.
A car drove by. The sound of a train pulled in. It was time. He removed his helmet, overgrown blonde hair flowing. The smell of air, how lovely it was. How long it had been. It was over now. President Shinra's life, his death, began here. His true voice pierced the world now, a voice to be feared throughout the world, a voice to be destroyed by Sephiroth, and Shinra looked upon the world with is own eyes for the first time in 1000 years.
"No longer am I just a kid."