2: The Call of War

"I've been drafted into the war. The Elders are getting desperate, and they're drafting every young man of age. Every summoner, every mage. No one's being spared or given special treatment. It was only a matter of time, Shuyin. Volunteers aren't coming to the Elders anymore, not now they know what the war is really like. It's serious, and it's starting to show in the way they're sending out letters," Lenne whispered, her throat closing up from the tense words. Shuyin hadn't moved, hadn't even looked at her.

"I know that Lenne," he replied, voice tight and quiet. He didn't turn to see her, his eyes staring blankly at the wall opposite him. "I got a letter too. Yesterday. But I thought," he paused. Lenne didn't want to hear what he said next, afraid of what it might make her feel or want. "I was thinking of ways for us to get out of here. Get away from Zanarkand and the war. Away from Bevelle. To a small place that no one knows about. Like Besaid Island. Only a few people live there."

"Shuyin," she said softly. "We couldn't run away. Your honour wouldn't allow you to, your pride would suffer. Mine too. We're not cowards. And even if we did run, people would recognise us. You're a famous Blitzball player and I'm a famous songstress. We couldn't find a place hidden enough to stay protected. I won't leave, and you won't leave me."

Shuyin turned to look at Lenne, struck by the tone she was using. She never used that tone with anyone. She always tried her hardest to remain upbeat, even when she was feeling hurt or sadness herself. But this tone was subdued and weary. Reigned, even. It was a tone that didn't belong to her and her never ending optimism. It was too broken, and it caused him to stop staring at the wall and look at her. Her eyes were closed, and he knew it was because she couldn't bare to see the pain in his eyes.

Her eyes suddenly opened and looked at him so passionately that Shuyin felt his heart shatter into tiny pieces. They had widened, two brown eyes so doe-like that Shuyin could never imagine her in the middle of blood and fire and violence. She wasn't built for it; not physically and not emotionally. A tight anxiety began to claw its way out of his chest, and he knew it was reflected in his eyes. Lenne could see it too.

"Maybe they'd leave us well enough alone. The rest of Spira are only behind Bevelle because they're afraid that the city may turn on them too. Most of them are letting the Bevellians get on with the fight with no input at all. Maybe we could have been safe," he said, though his heart wasn't in it. Lenne wouldn't leave with him, and he wouldn't leave without her.

"Too many maybes, and not enough certainties. I know what I am certain of though. Zanarkand will lose this war without all of its summoners, mages, soldiers, and warriors behind it. And I'm not leaving them behind. And I know that you can't either. We'll come through this. We always come through the bad things. We just need to hang onto each other. The call is yours, Shuyin. I've made my mind up," Lenne murmured, her breath warm against Shuyin's cheek as she leaned in to kiss him.

The call is mine, he thought bitterly. Some call. Do or die.

He pulled away from Lenne's grip and got up, pacing across the room as she watched him. Her eyes were sad, and he knew it was because she missed him. He had been a different person for a long time, and he tried so hard to get back to being him again, but he couldn't. Every time news of fallen soldiers reached them, every time his father messed with them, every time the war edged closer to them, he lost his cheer and charm. He stopped pacing, watching as Lenne turned away, her eyes sparkling.

Shuyin grabbed his pajama bottoms and tugged them up, dropping the towel into a heap on the floor. No more freedom. No more Blitzball. No more walks through the city at moonlight. No more Lenne. He yanked a hand through his hair, tugging nervously at the knots as he thought of no more, forever. It was an incomprehensible thought. A bleak forever of nothing. His pulse sped. Death scared him, but not as much as forever without Lenne. Tears threatened to fall down his cheeks, and his father's words echoed in his head: At least I'm not a crybaby.

"I can't stop you, can I?" he asked quietly, so quietly she could pretend that she didn't hear him and not answer. But she did. Lenne always answered him.

"No. But I don't want to talk about this anymore tonight. Let's go to bed, Shuyin. We can talk more in the morning. We have at least a week or two before we have to sign up. And you don't have to fight if you don't want to." Lenne's voice was broken, the sound jarring on a shard buried deep in Shuyin's chest. "We have a week before we have to separate."

Shuyin heard the unsaid, and I want to spend it with you, making good memories, happy memories, not sad memories or angry ones. It was something that had occurred to him too. He didn't want to fight her anymore. He wanted to lay with her, for all eternity, and make sure nothing ever happened to her. But reality wasn't as kind, and all he could do in the end was climb into bed with her for one of the numbered times they had left.

He couldn't sleep that night, but even in the early hours of the morning he knew he wasn't the only one laying awake, as small sounds rose from Lenne's side of the bed.


Lenne had never wanted to pick between Shuyin and Spira. There had been times in her life where she had considered choosing between singing and summoning, but never times where she had considered choosing between Shuyin and her work. He was her life, and that was all there was to it. Sure, the singing and summoning had come first, but Shuyin had showed her what was important in life. He'd taught her how to love, and they'd connected so deeply that to be apart was to be in pain. So if she'd had to choose between the two things, she'd thought that she'd always be able to pick him.

War had changed that. Now it was impossible to pick him over the suffering that Zanarkand was enduring. Shuyin would pick her every day of the week, but he would always do what she wanted to do. And if that meant fighting, then he would run out to meet a million machina alongside her. She had seen betrayal in his eyes as she'd told him she wouldn't refuse the summons, and she'd died a little inside too. But it was the right thing to do. And she could never do what was wrong, even if it was better for her.

There was a high chance of death out on the front lines, which is exactly where the summoners were being sent. Soldiers were falling like dominoes, so now it was time for the big guns. Lenne paused, her hand held over her head as she stopped brushing her hair. She didn't want to be seen as a weapon, but she knew she was being seen as a last hope. If the summoners fell, Zanarkand would fall. The city might have been technologically advanced in living, but in defenses it put all its wealth into traditional methods, like magic.

Yes, the chances of surviving this war were slim. Very slim. Bevelle were just too strong and sly for Zanarkand; no matter what the Zanarkands did, the Bevellians did bigger and better. Their machina was too good, too advanced, too high in number. And that was why Lenne felt so bad about telling Shuyin. She knew that she wasn't coming back. And if he fought, he'd die too. And she'd asked him to fight. Her guilt twisted hard in her gut, making her retch, eyes stinging with tears.

Lenne resumed brushing her hair, staring at her flushed reflection. She had another show tonight, one of her last, as a nasty voice in her head pointed out. But she brushed that thought away, just as she brushed her hair. There was no need for melodramatics. What would come would come, regardless. She just had to be in the right mind to tackle it, head on.

Shuyin entered the bedroom behind her, and Lenne moved out of the way as he walked to the sink. He gave her a sad smile as he passed, which made her feel all the more worse about the situation they were in. He didn't speak as he turned the tap on, instead silently washing his face. Lenne just watched him, sat on the edge of the bath, memorising every detail of his back, his face, his body. She flushed bright pink when he suddenly turned and saw what she was doing.

"Hey," he smiled, a ghost of his usual charisma and cheek playing in his eyes. "I was thinking that maybe we should go out tonight. For a meal. We haven't gone out for a long time, and now seems like the perfect time. We can celebrate your new song in style."

"I would love that," Lenne said, breathless as she took in his eyes. He was being sincere, really trying hard for her. He knew these were the last days they could spend together. He didn't want to waste them. "I'll book a table for us, for later on tonight."

"I guess I'll see you later then. After your show," Shuyin replied, walking past her to the bedroom. Lenne watched as he dressed, a wistful longing building in her. "I'm going to be out all day, so I'll pick you up from the stadium. I love you."

He left the room quickly, letting the door shut behind him. A ghost of I love you too formed on Lenne's lips as she watched the door click shut, wishing for the hundredth time that she'd managed to say I love you back. She walked into the bedroom, digging her clothes out as she replied the three little words over and over: I love you ... I love you ... I love you.

Why was it so hard to say those words when she meant them?


Lenne walked into the temple and climbed the steps slowly, one at a time with deliberation. She waved at people as she passed and stopped to sign the odd item or two. She was in no rush to tell the priests that she was thinking about staying behind. She knew what they would say. But she still had to try. She had to do this for Shuyin.

Eventually, Lenne was faced with the door she had been avoiding since she had received the news that all summoners were being urgently called up to serve in Zanarkand's forces. It seemed like a eternity before someone responded to her insistent knocking, her heart beating in time to the knocks. An old wrinkled face appeared at the door as it opened and smiled with recognition as his eyes met with Lenne's.

"Lenne," he croaked. "What can I do for you on this fine summer's morning?"

"I've come to request an urgent meeting with the Elder please," she said in a strong voice, calming down the tirade that had spread through her. Her body language was less confident, one hand clutching the other arm desperately, as she waited for her answer.

The face at the door frowned deeply. "Lenne you know that the council had been very busy lately, what with organsing new recruits and sending them out for training or to the front lines. You may well have to come back later. After the war later, if you understand what I mean." Lenne felt her heart drop as the old man went to shut the door behind him. She held out her hand, stopping his task.

"But this is concerning the war. I want to talk to the Elder about the war, not after it. Why would I have to wait so long?" she asked, confused as the old man smiled apologetically. He reopened the door, standing aside to let her in. Lenne ducked past, and stood in the hall, waiting for his answer.

"I'm so sorry Lenne. I thought you had come to approach us about a wedding ceremony. All such ceremonies have been postponed until after the war, although a lot of people are desperate to get married. Not surprising, seeing how badly it's going, if you don't mind my being brutally honest." He shooed her down the hallway, past the shrine and beyond to the door that led into the council meeting room.

"Why would you think that I came to discuss marriage?" Lenne asked as they waited outside the council room.

"We've all been waiting for the day that young man would propose to you, and the day you would come to the Elder to get your marriage ceremony arranged. We thought that with the ongoing war, you'd organise it," the old man replied, and Lenne saw in his eyes what she'd seen in Shuyin's, a belief that the summoners would not be coming back from the war alive.

"We believed there were more important things going on in the world than marriage. And our love is complete and known. We don't need a certificate or blessing to show that we're in love," Lenne replied, her cheeks hot. She'd had no idea that so many people had been talking about her and Shuyin's relationship. "Will I be able to see the Elder today?"

"Yes, yes. I'm sure Elder Khari will make time for you, especially concerning the war. He is in a meeting with Yevon at the moment." The old man's voice was hushed, and Lenne understood why. Yevon was Zanarkand's leader, the youngest they'd had. He was trying to lead the city as best he could, but with little experience, he relied on Elder Khari to help him make decisions. Lenne also knew it was Elder Khari's idea to send out summoners to fight. Yevon had wanted them to remain and defend the city.

"Yevon is with the Elder," she whispered back, in awe. He was like a celebrity among celebrities, a summoner who'd pilgrimaged in a short time. The shorter time a summoner took on their pilgrimage, the more in tune with the Fayth they were, the stronger they were. Fayth were religious members who sacrificed themselves to protect towns or villages from fiends, and to connect with one was a privilege that manifested in the form of an aeon. Lenne knew, because she had been on a pilgrimage herself, though not as quickly as Yevon.

"Yes. He is worried about sending all our summoners away to fight. He wants some to remain here, in Zanarkand - " Before the old man could finish the door opened and Yevon strode out. He paused momentarily, taking in Lenne and the old man, one by one. He nodded to both, before continuing down the hallway, followed by his protectors.

"You may enter now Lenne. I know why you are here, and it is time we talked about it," came the call of Elder Khari, which unnerved Lenne a little. She looked at her guide one last time, who nodded in encouragement. Lenne stepped forward, knowing it was now or never. The door shut behind her, leaving her facing the Council of Zanarkand.

When in the room, Lenne looked around at the other members of the council, to see if they knew what Khari was talking about, but they all seemed confused. None of them spoke to clarify why Lenne was there, all of them looking to their leader. He in turn watched Lenne, eyes misted with knowledge. She fidgeted under his gaze, the stare penetrating and all seeing. Before he had said a word, her cheeks were hot and red, embarrassment at her selfishness flooding through her. The levee had broken, he could see that.

"There are a great many people who have come and spoken to me these past few weeks, all of them asking the same thing of me. I did not expect to see you here, and yet I knew this moment would come. Do not be ashamed, child. You have done no wrong. Of all the people who has asked me your question, you are the one most deserving of it. You have done nothing but give to not only Zanarkand, but all of Spira. Why not ask for a moments reprieve? Go on child. Ask."

The Elder watched Lenne with measured eyes, and she took in a cooling breath, hands clasped behind her back. "I would like to have myself removed from the roster of eligible summoners for war. Along with Shuyin. I don't want to fight."

The council members didn't speak, though their expressions varied from shock to annoyance to disgust. No one was meant to be spared in this war, and now she was asking it of them. It was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong, which only made Lenne feel worse. She waited for the answer, knowing it, sensing it. She wanted to leave and forget about this crazy idea she'd had. She felt small and ashamed, guilt curdling in the back of her mouth as she thought of all the other people who had said goodbye to their loved ones, or lost them already in the fight.

"Do you not think that all those who have lost their lives already, all those who are leaving now to fight, and all those, like you, who have been summoned to war, did not have loved ones to leave behind? Everyone has someone of something to leave behind, something dear to them that they could never do without. But they still do, knowing that it is better to leave and fight for that loved one's future, than to stay and lose both futures," the Elder continued, not looking at his council members.

"I know all this, but - "

"If all of us had said but, wouldn't the war already have been lost? There are those who never hesitate to help people, who rush out unprepared to save loved ones and die. There are those who pause and think, scared of the consequences, and ask to stay. Then there are those who see everything before them in such clarity that they try for help, knowing they have to give it. You are one of the rare latter people. I'm sorry that I have to ask this of you Lenne. If anything, I would rather see you here singing and healing than out on the front lines. You are young and pure of heart, and bloodshed is something you should not have to see."

"I do understand all of this, but for once I wanted to try and put my heart's desire before my heart's understanding. I wanted to put my loved one in front of everyone else's, because this is the first time I've ever had a loved one to choose. I'm a part of my own world, and I'm afraid it will shatter if I leave it. I want to protect Shuyin. I want to protect myself," Lenne replied, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she looked on.

The Elder smiled sadly at her. "I know how you feel, Lenne, for I have loved and been loved. It is a pleasurable experience. But there is so much more to lose. If you stay, it could make the difference between a win or defeat. Surviving or dying. And then we would all lose. All of us would die. You are our strongest summoner, Lenne. We need you to lead the front line. To raise the moral of others. We can't have you staying behind to live happily with Shuyin, whilst the others leave to go and die. It wouldn't be fair. Understand this Lenne, I have a whole city to consider. I must send all those who can fight, for us to survive."

Lenne stood perfectly still, letting the expected words flow around her and sink into her mind. She knew that this was coming; it had all been a matter of at least trying for Shuyin and for their relationship. And now it was just a matter of finding the words to explain it to him. She had to make him understand that she was fighting for both of them. And she would fight for both of them, forever.

"I understand and accept the terms. I will fight as soon as my training is over. Thank you for listening to me Elder Khari." Lenne bowed her head respectfully towards each of the council members, before bowing out of the room backwards. The tears had gone, replaced by a hardened resolve to do the best for everyone. Distracted as she stepped outside, she ended up crashing into an elderly man on his way to the council room. "I'm so sorry," she stammered.

The tiny bespectacled man looked up, indignant at first until he recognised her. His face brightened in excitement. "Lady Lenne. Summoner of Zanarkand, and songstress too. What a joy it is to bump into you. Literally, as it seems! My oh my, this is pleasant. Think nothing of the accident. It's nothing a handshake can't solve! The name's Maechen!"

Lenne offered her hand to the old man, and he took it warmly, shaking her arm enthusiastically in long strokes. "Will you be at the concert tonight, Mister Maechen?" she asked politely as he stepped away, eyes gleaming in the dying light.

"Yes, yes! Wouldn't miss it for the world! I'll be there. I have to be going now, Lady Lenne, but good luck for your concert tonight. Not that you need it of course! Oh, and good luck when you go out to fight off those pesky Bevellians. We need people like you out on the front line! Strong, independent and kind. You'll keep moral up and keep an eye out for other people!" Maechen gave a swishing bow, before he hurried on down the hallway.

Lenne watched him go, a new bout of guilt swallowing her whole, along with fear as she finally realised there was no way out of this for her. She really was going to fight, and at nineteen, she'd never felt more scared and alone.


Shuyin walked through the near-empty streets of Central Zanarkand, kicking at litter as he moved. The streets looked so different in daylight, the lack of streetlights and colours uncomfortable. It was like daylight had washed out all the life and heart from Zanarkand, throwing open the truth of how destroyed the city really was. Shadows hid the scars that ran through the roads, but daylight left little room for hiding.

He kicked a stone angrily as he made his way to Market Square, angry that Lenne was so ready to give everything up and fight. He'd received summons too, but the thought of fighting had never crossed his mind. Instead, he'd made plans about escape, about freedom, about a place so untouched and unreachable that he and Lenne could live together happily, in peace. But there was never going to be any peace for them. There had never been any peace for them in the past, so why should it change now?

Even though he hadn't consciously thought about it, Shuyin knew where he was going to. Sure enough, his feet led him to cheapest bar in Zanarkand, owned by a rich Hypello, who spoke good English, knew good manners and knew how to run a bar well. Shuyin always came to this bar when he felt low, had snuck in numerous times when he was kid trying to get away from his father, and it was to him what a blanket was to a child. He never got drunk, only coming to the bar to seek out the happy atmosphere that was lacking in every other place in Zanarkand. If he couldn't get the cheer from Blitzball, than this was the next best place.

He shoved the door open with one hand, the other stuffed into his pocket. Eyes turned to look at him briefly, before the patriots returned to their drinks and conversations. Shuyin shuffled over to the bar, hunched up to attract as little attention as he could. He had noticed a group of soldiers in the corner, and they kept drawing his eye.

"Good afternoon Mister Shuyin. What can I get you?" asked the Hypello, Ptyi. He looked beadily at Shuyin's wallet, which he had pulled out as he sat down. "A drink, I presume," the Hypello continued, sensing Shuyin's bleak mood.

"Your strongest whiskey, but only the once. Don't let me buy any more than that," Shuyin replied miserably. "I trust you not to take advantage of my hospitality, Ptyi."

"I will not, Mister Shuyin. I will respect your wishes. Why so glum, though? Has something happened to Lady Lenne?" The Hypello had moved to his best bottle of whiskey, pouring out a short measure for Shuyin. He slid the glass over, watching the young man as he knocked the glass back in one.

"It depends on your definition of wrong. It's the damn war, is all. It's driving us all over the edge, like chocobos. We flock together, we die together. What else is there to do?" Shuyin answered, rolling the empty glass between his hands. "What are we to do?" he continued more quietly.

"My Mom and Pops got the call too," came another voice, from the end of the bar. Shuyin looked up to see a young man hunched over several different glasses and an empty bottle. "They were strong summoners back in the day, back when it was a summoner's job to pay respect to the sacrifices of average men and women. I bet they never saw this war coming. The council must be desperate if they're pulling out older summoners, though. It's not a good sign, if you ask me."

"And what about you?" Shuyin asked, taking in the boy's fit frame and age. "You must have been sent a letter too. You're of age to be drafted."

"I'm eighteen. I got the letter," he answered bitterly. "I've never wielded a sword in my life, yet they expect me to learn in two weeks. Then it's off to the front lines where I'll die, and then another eighteen year old will replace me. The cycle continues. We'll never win. We're not strong or big enough."

Shuyin stared off when the lad spoke, realising for the first time that other people were being affected by this fight too. The boy's parents were going, so he'd probably lose both at the same time, and he was being called up too, no experience in fighting, even with fiends. "I'm sorry," Shuyin whispered. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

The boy nodded, a tear dropping from his nose, into his glass of liquor. A pang of sympathy bit in Shuyin's chest, and he shuffled his bar stool nearer to the kid. The boy looked up, grey eyes widening in surprise and shame as he realised that Shuyin had caught him crying.

"What's your name?" Shuyin asked, watching him rub his eyes viciously.

"Dyven," the boy stuttered, cheeks flushed a hot pink colour. He was staring at Shuyin with admiration, and it took him a while to place why. He had been so lost in his grief that he had forgotten his own identity for a while. "My name is Dyven, sir."

"My name is Shuyin," he told Dyven unnecessarily. "And I've been drafted too. We could sign up together, you and me. I have experience as a guardian. I could help you learn to manage a sword. Or you might be better on grenades or other attacks. I could help you out. I need to distract myself."

"Who did you lose to the war?" Dyven asked, picking out grief in Shuyin's voice.

"Lenne has been called to serve the front lines, much like your parents, because she is a summoner." Shuyin was stiff and icy when he spoke of it, trying to get away from the fire in his chest that burned when he remembered Lenne's fate. "She has to leave soon, but I don't want her to. She's nineteen. Too gentle for war."

"Not the songstress!" Dyven said in horror, before his face hardened too. "And I understand your point. I don't get why they're sending out the most peaceful people in our city to the front lines. Summoners heal and pray and give hope. Destroying them in the good of Zanarkand won't help moral. It'll destroy it."

"I'm glad you see my point, Dyven. Really we should be surrendering and getting out of the hole we're in, but the Elder will never do that. Nor will Yevon. Both of them are too proud. So we're going to burn to death in the fires of Bevelle's machina. I wish there was an easy way out. A way to stop all of the pain and blood that is being spilled and lost. We need to stand against them," Shuyin said passionately, cracks running through the glass as he tightened his grip around it.

"There is no way out. Death is the only way. The easiest way to go. And then we would all be on the Farplanes, with our loved ones," Dyven muttered under his breath. Shuyin started at the boy's words, a desperate idea forming in his mind.

"Death," he murmured. "And then freedom. On the Farplanes. A reunion to remember!"

And a way to spare Lenne from the fire of war.