A Darkness, Descending
The tall man swerved on his heels, his long hair swiveling and leaving a lingering image of gray on the lush, dark background of the deep skies. The scorching heat of the day slowly rose into the upper layer of the atmosphere as the summer evening descended, leaving a warm, silent world below. Nothing moved in the darkness, not even the sky. The multicolored lanterns of paper that hung at the posts of many houses glowed through the motionless evening like small stars of red and green and yellow and blue. The man, standing on the foot of a narrow white path, watched the clouds fading into thin stretches of misty gray on the small strip of light that still lingered upon the horizon.
Even though the place has just been through a long, devastating war, life continued as usual. Only the charred remains of trees in the corner of what once had been a beautiful forest attested where the army has set fire to the woods during an attempt to daunt the town into surrendering. Shin-Ra had no mercy. The scheme worked; the seize upon the island, that had been reached through a long and wearisome three-months fighting, has shortly afterwards ended with a full submission on the part of the enemy.
The man's countenance remained unchanged as he scrutinized the odd shapes of the mountains that rose on the horizon. They seemed to gain a strange, pulsing halo from the sinking golden glow. In the dusk, the man's face was still visible; especially his eyes, which seemed to emit an inner, green light of their own. The expression on the sharp, aquiline, clean-cut features was calm, but not serene. It had a morbid set, expressed through the tight curl of the mouth, the way the lines of his face shaped themselves into an austere, sphinx-like stillness.
He turned away from the mountains, scrutinizing the grounds of the ruined forest. Then he walked to a broad, rocky formation that supported the remains of an old tree. It was bare, the summer heat and recent devastation delaying the signs of recovery. He seated himself on the rock, his long, black coat trailing to the ground. Then, anchoring his boots on the earth and leaning forwards until his arms rested on his knees, he remained silently seated for a little while. He was apparently brooding upon something, a thought or a memory; but the mask of his face remained serene, like an unchanging mirror.
After a while, a new sound disturbed the perfect silence of the scenery. The dusk thickened, the golden glow banished from the simmering atmosphere, and the unchanging skies stretched above the town with a profound, starless silence. Within it, the firm footsteps of an approaching figure was distinctly heard, reverberating with a slight echo through the path and the trees. The man was roused from his thoughts, and turned his head towards the sound. He rose to his feet, as if preparing himself for whatever might be approaching him, although it was unlikely that it would be something dangerous.
He could now see a small circle of fire burning in the darkness, from which a wisp of thin white smoke floated into the warm evening. The dusk between the trees was thick enough so that the approaching figure's outline was barely visible until it was quite close; and until it was less than six yards away that fiery red circlet seemed to eerily move by itself through the night, like a small, burning firefly. The difficulty of recognizing the figure was enhanced by the fact that it was clad in a dark blue suit. The man recognized the mark of the Turks of Shin-Ra.
The figure paused about six yards away, tapping on the cigarette in its hand, and some of its burnt ashes fell to the ground. The man recognized Tseng of the Turks, by the smooth, dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He knew that Tseng had not been in the town yesterday, and his eyes narrowed as he deliberated over this fact. He was barely acquainted with Tseng, and it was more by sight than by any close interaction; but he had more respect towards him than for most of the people in Shin-Ra. The Turk was about the same age as himself, a little older perhaps, and, much like him, was generally self-possessed and calm.
Tseng appeared to notice that he had been seen. He began to speak sedately, with calm accents.
"I was looking for you since I arrived, and they said that you were walking in the direction of the mountains."
The man, who had not lost his upright, rigid bearing, answered him in a voice that was even quieter, deeper, and very much colder:
"What brings you to the town?"
Tseng made an almost imperceptible movement with his shoulders, that might have been passed for a shrug. "Shin-Ra wishes a report upon the proceedings as soon as possible."
"To spy on the proceedings, perhaps," said the man with his staid, cool accents.
If Tseng was discomforted by this remark, his voice did not betray it. "Yes. To spy on the proceedings, if you wish it to be termed as such."
The man did not answer him for one moment. He turned his profile towards the darkness of the forest. From the corner of his eye he could perceive the black masses of the mountains lurking on the horizon, like huge, crouching shadows. A lingering glimmer somewhere flashed for an instance in the night, perhaps the remains of the beautiful sunset, perhaps merely a watchtower somewhere on the stony shoulders of the hills. Despite the serene atmosphere the night seemed to contain many silent, watchful eyes, flashing through that mysterious light, through the glowing colors of the small paper lamps that nodded in a secretive wind, through the thicket of the gloomy forest that watched him like a brooding, ancient shadow. Without looking towards the Turk, the man spoke again with his level voice.
"Are Shin-Ra spying on me in particular?"
Tseng almost started. A moment passed before he replied. "No, I did not say that."
"Yet you understand of what I speak— better, in fact, than I understand myself," stated the man quietly. "When you've worked in an organization for as long as I have, you perceive the pattern of thoughts across it, and you begin to recognize when you become caught in the pattern. Something seems questionable to me about the way Shin-Ra had been treating me lately. They appear to watch me over carefully, always sending someone to see me through my missions, almost as if they are afraid that I am about to do something untoward. I ask, again: by whose order is it?"
Tseng was silent. The man continued. "Is it by Hojo's orders? Is his distorted mind bent on something new? Have I not been his subject of study enough in the past?"
Tseng maintained his guarded silence. He had been clearly caught off-guard by the man's severe questioning, and his fingers fiddled with his cigarette, betraying some of his agitation. The man's mouth set grimly. His gloved fingers rested on the sheath of his long sword, clenching around the smooth, silvery handle. "I know that he is scheming something," he muttered. Then he asked, unexpectedly and harshly: "I heard rumors circling regarding mako reactor number one. Do you know something about this?"
Tseng probably judged that it would be unsafe to be silent any longer. Despite his apparent unease his voice retained its cool tones as he spoke. "Hojo heard about the problems with the mako reactor. He means to send an expedition to investigate it."
The man's mouth bent in a hard smile. "Mako reactor number one. I heard of this reactor in the past. Several times." He halted briefly, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost as if he was reciting something to himself. "A long time ago, when I was still young. I remember it, perhaps because it was Hojo who had spoken of it." He suddenly turned towards Tseng, his eyes seeming to shimmer with their strange, inner light. "And he wants to send an investigation, you say." He bent his head briefly, as if meditating upon this point; then he continued. "I myself have a vast knowledge of mako. I think that I ought to be the one to lead the expedition."
Tseng seemed to judge it fit to speak again. "You have a vaster knowledge of that particular subject than almost anyone else." His tone was respectful and extremely guarded. He had no wish to offend this man, Shin-Ra's best soldier and its most deadly weapon. And at the same time he knew that tripping over his words in front of the sharp, discerning eye of this highly intelligent man in his morbid mood would be disastrous to the company.
"I grew on mako," the man said, and a slight bent of the mouth and a fierceness to his eye made him appear like a bird of prey. "Its substance, its taste, its knowledge. Ought I not know everything about it?" Tseng, who watched him attentively now, fancied to see a flicker of the green glow pervading the man's eyes in the darkness.
"Shin-Ra are investing a lot of trust in you," he replied calmly. "I am sure that if you request to lead this investigation you will not be refused."
There was silence, and the grim smile did not leave the man's mouth. Tseng felt a discomfort stealing over him. He wished to leave this path, surrounded by that dark, morbid forest. He turned around and spoke with a seemingly cool, indifferent voice:
"At any rate, I will return to the town. I will be participating in the conference tomorrow." His eyes on the night, the cigarette burning itself slowly between his fingers, he walked away with his firm, sedate step towards the colorful lights. The man remained behind, in the darkness of the forest. When Tseng was gone from sight he spoke into the silent, brooding night.
"Whatever Shin-Ra are determined to investigate must be worth knowing about."
© Written by Hadas Rose
Final Fantasy VII is © Square, 1997.