Sephiroth had never been able to make up his mind about Wutai. The conflict had been well underway when he had been shipped overseas at the tried and seasoned age of fifteen. He had stayed there with very few reprieves until he was twenty-three. Eight, almost nine, years of his life had been consumed by the war. At the time, neck deep in it, he hadn't thought much about the politics of it all. The Wutai troops had been there to kill him and his men. It was up to him to make sure they killed the Wutai insurgents first. They had done so with great efficiency.

The longer it went on, the worse it had become. Sparring was fun, killing anything but. No one would believe it, but taking lives had never brought Sephiroth any joy. Toward the end, the rout had turned to slaughter and it had taken months for Sephiroth to learn to sleep in his own bed again.

In the field, he had slept crammed cheek by jowl with either Genesis and Angeal, or with the other men in his unit. It had been to guard against the nightmares as much as the marauding ninjas. Since then, there had been nothing and no one to stand between him and the sinister voices inside his own head.

All during the airship flight, a growing sense of queasiness had gathered in Sephiroth's guts. He was not usually troubled by motion sickness, and he forced the nausea down. Fancy General Sephiroth being airsick. He did not have time for this nonsense.

Although he sat down to eat with Elfe, Rufus, and Captain Highwind, Sephiroth mostly just pushed his food around his plate. Rufus didn't appear to be very hungry either. Mostly he sat engrossed in his tablet or sifting through mountains of paperwork.

"I want to do as much for Wutai as I can," he explained when asked. "We'll lift the trade sanctions of course, cut the tariffs in half. I know they'll want their materia back, but I am frankly a little nervous about that."

Sephiroth did not blame him. Indeed, he had more than a few of his own misgivings. Elfe seemed to be the only one who was not in a state of controlled distress. But then, in this particular instance, she had the luxury of innocence. Avalanche had been formed toward the end of the war and had been in sympathy with Wutai. She was probably the only member of their delegation who was not on Emperor Godo's short list to be hung, drawn, and quartered.

Much like the conundrum of his fan club, this was not a problem Sephiroth could solve with a sword. He did not fear being cursed at, spat on, or having things thrown at him. He fully expected all of that as a matter of course. However, he would not be able to fight back if attacked. The people of Wutai might respect his military prowess, but they hated him as a human being. They had every right.

It wasn't that he feared ridicule, or even death. If Emperor Godo demanded his sword arm in retribution, Sephiroth would willingly cut it off himself. The blood debt he owed could never be fully paid, but he would have to try. The thought of having to tally that debt, to take inventory of every man, woman, and child, every head of livestock, every grain of rice and blade of grass he'd cut down made him sick with horror and revulsion.

Not until after hostilities had ended and the treaties been brokered had he and Genesis and Angeal finally been sent home. Rather, Genesis and Angeal had been sent to their homes, to their families in Banora for some well earned leave. Well, Angeal had returned. Genesis had already disappeared. Sephiroth had simply been returned to Shinra. The only things waiting for him in Midgar had been Professor Hojo and an empty barracks. It had been better when they'd returned. Sephiroth had never been so anxious to return to work, to find Genesis before someone else did. But even that interlude had been all too brief. Angeal had become ill, and then died, and Genesis was rumored to be dead as well. There had been so much to do that Sephiroth had never properly had a chance to mourn his brothers in arms.

Returning to Wutai felt like going back in time. Although he knew it was ridiculous, he fully expected to see barren fields and scorched villages upon disembarking the airship. As they drew to a halt over the capitol, Sephiroth swore he could smell blood and smoke in the air. His stomach clenched so hard he nearly doubled over as the Captain announced that it would take fifteen minutes to land. It was just enough time for Sephiroth to calmly walk to his cabin, vomit what little he had eaten, and brush his teeth. Willing his insides to behave, forcing himself to at least appear calm, Sephiroth stared hard at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He still felt nauseated, the taste of metal and acid lingering at the back of his mouth despite the mint of the toothpaste. His expression looked back at him flat and impassive. Good enough. Sephiroth turned and hurried to rejoin Elfe and Rufus to disembark.


It felt longer than three years since Sephiroth had last set foot on Wutaian soil. Rather, an absurd number of events had been crammed into a very short amount of time. Wutai had not been all bad, he tried to remind himself even as the Highwind's rear hatch was opened and the gangway lowered. He, Angeal, and Genesis had become best friends during the conflict. The country was beautiful, the food very good, the culture elegant and formal without the pretension that accompanied Shinra's self-inflated pomp and ceremony. Yet he'd left it a smoldering ruin, with almost half the male population and a quarter of the female dead.

The three years after those spent in Wutai had been crammed, mostly with tragedy. Genesis had been hurt, and then gone rogue. Angeal had likewise become ill and unstable. For more than a year, Sephiroth had believed them both to be dead. Angeal would not be returning from the Lifestream, but at least Genesis had survived. This last year alone could not possibly have had another thing jammed into it. Shinra had fallen, its secrets laid bare, Deepground exposed, and Midgar itself had been left in ruins. Despite that, a strangely high number of people were still standing, himself included. All that to say nothing of joining forces with Avalanche, with Elfe.

"Hey," she said softly as they waited for the ramp to touch the ground. "You okay?"

"Fine," he told her woodenly.

"Look at me," Elfe commanded. Obediently, Sephiroth turned to meet her eyes. Her tone had implied anger, but her expression was a mix on concentration and concern. For a moment she searched his eyes and then laid a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?" she repeated.

"Yes," Sephiroth told her, "I'm fine." Not because he was, but because he had to be.

Now was neither the time nor the place for a confession or a nervous breakdown. Elfe seemed to understand this for she nodded and let her fingers slide down his arm to squeeze his hand.

"I'm right here," she reminded him. "Just tell me, okay?"

He nodded, grateful, and squeezed back. The whole ship rumbled slightly as the ramp touched down. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth released Elfe's hand and fell into step with her just behind Rufus.

For some reason, he had expected things to still be on fire.

The utter...fabrication of it all blindsided him worse than the still smoking charred remains of a city might have. The buildings were garish, almost fiendishly vivid in color and style. It was as if someone had taken the old city, rebuilt it as a cartoon of itself, and dialed everything up to eleven. Sephiroth had heard Wutai had become a tourist destination once it had put itself back together, but he had not anticipated this level of carnival showmanship. Like the supposed delicacy of live slugs, Sephiroth couldn't help wondering if this was some sort of backhanded revenge on the hated yet necessary foreigners?

A small legion of dignitaries were waiting to receive them. Men in suits as well as uniforms, plus several women in formal kimono bowed respectfully. Rufus stopped and returned the gesture, Sephiroth mimicking him, and Elfe following suit half a beat later. He'd intentionally left his leather jacket in Midgar, instead wearing the uniforms of the as yet unnamed united forces of what had formerly been the Shinra regular army, Deepground, and Avalanche. Reeve was pushing for 'World Reorganization Order', but Rufus thought it too totalitarian. At any rate, the new uniform was pale gray, an intentional contrast to the black uniforms of 1st Class SOLDIERs. Elfe, since she was leader of her own forces, wore a new uniform of sage green. Avalanche had had a dress code of sorts, but never uniforms. She looked nice in it, he thought. Although all of the military personnel present carried weapons, none had drawn them yet. Masamune slung across his back was the only thing familiar, and Sephiroth itched to hold her in his hands if only to reassure himself. He jumped as something brushed against his knuckles, then nearly melted with relief when he realised it was only Elfe, reminding him she was there.

The Emperor, of course, did not come to meet them. Sephiroth had not expected him, but Elfe appeared to be trying to pick someone out of the crowd of officials. Those assembled were clad in a mish-mash of traditional and contemporary dress, with no real rhyme or reason behind their choice. It would be difficult for someone not familiar with court dress to discern who was who.

"Where is he?" Elfe hissed as Rufus bowed and began speaking to the leader of the assembly- probably the Prime Minister.

"His Sacred Radiance wouldn't make an appearance on the tarmac," Sephiroth murmured back. "We'll be presented to him formally later, after I've had a chance to pin on about six pounds worth of target practice."

There had been a time in his teens when Sephiroth had been proud of his medals and insignia. Now, with very few exceptions- marksmanship, swordsmanship, his rank as general- he hated the nearly two-dozen bits of gilded metal and what they stood for. Bravery and valor his ass. Each ribbon and gold star was an extra reason for these people to hate him.

Rufus had finished exchanging pleasantries, and the minister motioned for them to follow him. Presumably they'd be led to their rooms and be given time to rest and change into their dress uniforms before being presented to Emperor Godo. There would also be a state dinner to endure, and the following day, Rufus and his Radiance would begin their verbal campaign.


Sephiroth had been inside the royal palace only once. He had been present for Emperor Godo's formal surrender, but the terms had been brokered by a Shinra representative in a three piece suit whose name he had not been told. Sephiroth had gotten the distinct impression that he'd only been kept on hand for intimidation purposes. It had not been easy to sleep within walls made of paper. Wutai had been conquered, but there were still courtiers and palace attendants at every turn.

There was no such thing as privacy in a palace with walls made of bamboo and paper. Sephiroth cared not for his modesty, but the royal household did not need to know that beneath his gloves, Genesis had bitten his fingernails bloody, or that Angeal rarely slept without first crumbling in tears. If ever they learned that the famed Silver General, the Demon of Wutai frequently awoke in the dead of night to vomit up his nightmares, he would never hear the end of it.

He, Elfe, and Rufus had been given a row of rooms that could be adjoined or closed off as the occupant saw fit. Strangely, Rufus had not been placed in between them, but was given the room at the far end that abutted a stone wall. Elfe was next to him, and Sephiroth had the room at the opposite end. He had expected Rufus to be placed in the middle, the better to be protected by his two generals, but apparently Elfe and her assistant Jessie were being given preference as the only women in the group.

Shrugging Masamune off his shoulders, Sephiroth placed her on the empty wooden stand that sat waiting. The palace staff had truly thought of everything. Then again, Masamune and himself were inseparable as a concept. It only made sense they consider the steel weapon as well as the human one.

"Where are the beds?" Kunsel asked, entering and dropping his gear on the tatami mats.

"Over there," Sephiroth nodded at the neatly stacked and folded futons. "We're getting the full Wutai experience."

Kunsel blinked, looking the slightest bit dismayed. Sephiroth did not blame him. Just looking at the silken bedrolls made his stomach turn. The queasiness he'd experienced on the airship had not completely left him. Swallowing hard, Sephiroth tasted acid at the back of this throat. Gods of Gaia, let this negotiation be brief. A SOLDIER could go many days without sleep and still be functional, but he hoped it would not come to that.