The canyon had dried since he had last been here.
Seto remembered when his father, Nanaki had taken him here to 'teach him the most important lesson' there had still been remnants of the river that once cut gorgeously through the path. It was not more than ankle deep at the time, but still enough to remind one of the river's former raging glory. But now, as he led his own two sons down the same path, too teach them the very same lesson two hundred years later, he realized just how much time changed these things and how fortunate his race was to see it.
He bounded quickly up the stairway of craggy rocks; confident the young cubs he was so proud of would follow him. He reached the top and looked down on the former city; it's structure still mostly intact even five hundred years later. The ocean had swallowed up the land in the five hundred years and now was encroaching on the rusted metal itself, which now grew plentiful with vegetation that climbed up the buildings like some sort of post-apocalyptic vision.
'Which wasn't very far off from the truth.' Seto mused to himself.
"Daddy?" Hid daughter, Tahneki, voiced in her small tone. "Why are we here?"
"Shhh." Was the father's only reply. "Listen."
The cubs waited as impatiently as any child, flicking their tails back and forth listlessly, wondering what it was they were supposed to be listening to. The only sound that could be discerned could be the loud squawking of a flock of birds that flew close overhead, flying in distinct formation to the north, now that the hunting seasons had once again began.
And, then, the cubs heard it.
Immediately they had hopped to their feet, the fur of their tiny manes bristling on end as the looked around frantically for the source of the unfamiliar sound. After a moment, when no real source could be found, they settled down, their fur still standing on end and their heads jerking about.
"What...what is that sound, dad?" Kelo, his son and heir to his throne asked.
Their father smiled, as much a Thbankah can truly smile, at his cubs.
"Which question do you want answered first, Kelo? What the sound is, or why are we here?"
The young cub looked to his sister, and then up at his father.
"The one sis asked, I guess."
Seto nodded, as if he expected that answer. "We're here, son, for you and your sister to learn the most important lesson I can ever teach you. We're here to listen to story written in the wind. We're here...
For you to hear the story of humans."
"Humans?" The female asked. "What are humans?"
"Humans were an animal, my daughter." The elder replied. "But an animal unlike any other known to The Planet. In appearance, they seemed almost humorous. They did not, like all other sensible animals, walk on four legs - but two!"
"Two legs? How'd they ever stay up, dad?" Kelo asked, his tiny body shaking with laughter.
"I truly do not know, my son. But they did, and surprisingly well. Not only that, but they communicated with one another intelligently. It is said sentience is the Thbankah's great gift and great curse, but it was the humans who also owned this double-edged sword. In fact, the language we speak today is almost identical to that spoken by the humans."
"But, daddy?" Tahneki questioned. "Why is it so important to learn about them?"
The massive Thbankah stood up onto all fours, shaking his mane out in earnest while the curious sound still surrounded them. "Humans were an odd species, my daughter. Many were greedy and envious, using The Planet's resources for their own personal gain. In fact, it was because of this very reason why they were destroyed five hundred years ago."
The children stood shock still. In the first twenty short years of their lives, they legend told of an evil race that built towers that drank The Planet's essence from the ground and were wiped out by their own greed five hundred years ago. But, to them, this race was not known as humans, but as Shin-Ra.
"Daddy! Not the Shin-Ra!" The female failed to contain.
"Dare not speak of humans to me with that name, child." The elder growled. "Because I am here to tell you one thing and believe me when I tell you this.
Humans. Were. GOOD."
"But, dad. How can you be so sure?" The prince asked.
"Listen son, listen daughter. Listen to that sound."
And the father bent his ear to the wind, and the sound came louder now, surrounding them. It was not an unpleasant sound, the cubs realized, even despite their initial fears. In fact, it was rather pleasing to the ear. It bubbled up and down in their aural capacities until just the sound itself has brought smiles to their faces.
"That sound..." Their father finally broke the void. "Is the spirit of humans. It is the laughter of their children."
He allowed his cubs to digest this small amount of information, seeing it a difficult thing to do. To unlearn twenty years of history was something he never wished to do, and time had only compounded the difficulty. Now, it was only he and his mate that knew the true story of the human race. But he would not let the truth die. He would make sure that this place would never be forgotten.
"You are here, because I want you to listen to a story my father told me when he took me here long ago, when I was about your age. A story that proves why this is the essence of humans, that the metal monstrosity below you is not a testament to their evil, but a reminder of their good. I want to tell you a story of nine human beings who saved The Planet and, in doing so, destroyed their own race."
The father looked down at his children, taking a deep breath as the essence, the very soul of humanity surrounded him. He could feel it, and he knew his children could, too. 'Twenty years of history, twenty years of lies.' Seto thought in contemplation. 'Three hundred years my father had to keep quiet with his knowledge. His truth.'
"Humans had a very short life span, children. Twenty years old to them was an adult. Many had finished their schooling by that time, instead of just beginning it as you are. During the time of our story, most human beings only lived for seventy years." Again, Seto let a silence reign, allowing the impact of his words to sink in. "You see that metal monstrosity, children? Well, it did not sit on the ground like most human structures. It was on pillars and hung above the ground. The poor and the destitute lived under these structures and they, they only lived for fifty years at most. But it was there that a spark was born. A spark that would run throughout the entire city, that was bigger than the city, that was bigger than humanity.
And this spark would ignite in that city that once towered over the horizon. In Midgar..."
Seto remembered when his father, Nanaki had taken him here to 'teach him the most important lesson' there had still been remnants of the river that once cut gorgeously through the path. It was not more than ankle deep at the time, but still enough to remind one of the river's former raging glory. But now, as he led his own two sons down the same path, too teach them the very same lesson two hundred years later, he realized just how much time changed these things and how fortunate his race was to see it.
He bounded quickly up the stairway of craggy rocks; confident the young cubs he was so proud of would follow him. He reached the top and looked down on the former city; it's structure still mostly intact even five hundred years later. The ocean had swallowed up the land in the five hundred years and now was encroaching on the rusted metal itself, which now grew plentiful with vegetation that climbed up the buildings like some sort of post-apocalyptic vision.
'Which wasn't very far off from the truth.' Seto mused to himself.
"Daddy?" Hid daughter, Tahneki, voiced in her small tone. "Why are we here?"
"Shhh." Was the father's only reply. "Listen."
The cubs waited as impatiently as any child, flicking their tails back and forth listlessly, wondering what it was they were supposed to be listening to. The only sound that could be discerned could be the loud squawking of a flock of birds that flew close overhead, flying in distinct formation to the north, now that the hunting seasons had once again began.
And, then, the cubs heard it.
Immediately they had hopped to their feet, the fur of their tiny manes bristling on end as the looked around frantically for the source of the unfamiliar sound. After a moment, when no real source could be found, they settled down, their fur still standing on end and their heads jerking about.
"What...what is that sound, dad?" Kelo, his son and heir to his throne asked.
Their father smiled, as much a Thbankah can truly smile, at his cubs.
"Which question do you want answered first, Kelo? What the sound is, or why are we here?"
The young cub looked to his sister, and then up at his father.
"The one sis asked, I guess."
Seto nodded, as if he expected that answer. "We're here, son, for you and your sister to learn the most important lesson I can ever teach you. We're here to listen to story written in the wind. We're here...
For you to hear the story of humans."
"Humans?" The female asked. "What are humans?"
"Humans were an animal, my daughter." The elder replied. "But an animal unlike any other known to The Planet. In appearance, they seemed almost humorous. They did not, like all other sensible animals, walk on four legs - but two!"
"Two legs? How'd they ever stay up, dad?" Kelo asked, his tiny body shaking with laughter.
"I truly do not know, my son. But they did, and surprisingly well. Not only that, but they communicated with one another intelligently. It is said sentience is the Thbankah's great gift and great curse, but it was the humans who also owned this double-edged sword. In fact, the language we speak today is almost identical to that spoken by the humans."
"But, daddy?" Tahneki questioned. "Why is it so important to learn about them?"
The massive Thbankah stood up onto all fours, shaking his mane out in earnest while the curious sound still surrounded them. "Humans were an odd species, my daughter. Many were greedy and envious, using The Planet's resources for their own personal gain. In fact, it was because of this very reason why they were destroyed five hundred years ago."
The children stood shock still. In the first twenty short years of their lives, they legend told of an evil race that built towers that drank The Planet's essence from the ground and were wiped out by their own greed five hundred years ago. But, to them, this race was not known as humans, but as Shin-Ra.
"Daddy! Not the Shin-Ra!" The female failed to contain.
"Dare not speak of humans to me with that name, child." The elder growled. "Because I am here to tell you one thing and believe me when I tell you this.
Humans. Were. GOOD."
"But, dad. How can you be so sure?" The prince asked.
"Listen son, listen daughter. Listen to that sound."
And the father bent his ear to the wind, and the sound came louder now, surrounding them. It was not an unpleasant sound, the cubs realized, even despite their initial fears. In fact, it was rather pleasing to the ear. It bubbled up and down in their aural capacities until just the sound itself has brought smiles to their faces.
"That sound..." Their father finally broke the void. "Is the spirit of humans. It is the laughter of their children."
He allowed his cubs to digest this small amount of information, seeing it a difficult thing to do. To unlearn twenty years of history was something he never wished to do, and time had only compounded the difficulty. Now, it was only he and his mate that knew the true story of the human race. But he would not let the truth die. He would make sure that this place would never be forgotten.
"You are here, because I want you to listen to a story my father told me when he took me here long ago, when I was about your age. A story that proves why this is the essence of humans, that the metal monstrosity below you is not a testament to their evil, but a reminder of their good. I want to tell you a story of nine human beings who saved The Planet and, in doing so, destroyed their own race."
The father looked down at his children, taking a deep breath as the essence, the very soul of humanity surrounded him. He could feel it, and he knew his children could, too. 'Twenty years of history, twenty years of lies.' Seto thought in contemplation. 'Three hundred years my father had to keep quiet with his knowledge. His truth.'
"Humans had a very short life span, children. Twenty years old to them was an adult. Many had finished their schooling by that time, instead of just beginning it as you are. During the time of our story, most human beings only lived for seventy years." Again, Seto let a silence reign, allowing the impact of his words to sink in. "You see that metal monstrosity, children? Well, it did not sit on the ground like most human structures. It was on pillars and hung above the ground. The poor and the destitute lived under these structures and they, they only lived for fifty years at most. But it was there that a spark was born. A spark that would run throughout the entire city, that was bigger than the city, that was bigger than humanity.
And this spark would ignite in that city that once towered over the horizon. In Midgar..."