Falling Stars

By:

Mystwalker

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII.

A/N: Taking a short break from Another Side to write this because I was starting to get a little stir-crazy about going through the Shinra Building sequence (it's LONG), and I needed to get this out of my head and clear my palette, so to speak, so that I didn't end up making the next scene in Another Side, which is supposed to be really dramatic and supposed to involve a lovely bit of drama and discussions about morality, into something really rushed and stilted.

This fic is related to my AU Final Fantasy VII: Another Side, but it's set before the canon divergence, so the world of this fic is pretty much canon. You don't need to read Another Side to understand this fic, but reading this fic will help you get a better picture of Another Side if you are reading it. It's basically an origin story for one of the characters.

XxXxX

Chapter One: Swordsman of the Village Rain

[ μ ] – εуλ 1992

March

Veld studied the weapon lying across his desk. It was a slender katana encased in a well-worn sheath, the hilt wrapped in white leather. The sheath had seen better days, but its owner had obviously kept it well-maintained—although it was cracked and weathered in places, it was clean, and had obviously been repaired to the best of its wielder's ability. To the untrained eye, the weapon didn't look like much, but Veld knew better. With care, he placed one of his hands on the hilt and the other on the sheath, tugging on the hilt gently. It slid up, exposing a length of gleaming blue-edged steel. The blade had been lovingly maintained, and sharpened to a lethal point. Directly underneath the hilt, a pair of Wutaian characters had been inscribed, the mark of the swordsmith that had forged it.

Murasame.

Village rain.

Veld slid the sword entirely back into its sheath, taking a step back and glancing at the stack of papers that surrounded it. They were reports, mostly, and pictures salvaged by from security cameras. All of them depicted a dark-haired figure standing in the middle of a crowded room, cutting, cutting, and cutting. Reports accompanied the pictures, but they were all things he had read before. "...all operatives defeated..." "...attacker apprehended by arriving reinforcements..."

He swept the reports into a neat stack and put them away, his eyes landing on the last picture. It was fastened to an employee information sheet, one with the letterhead of the General Affairs Department.

The leader of the Turks looked up at a knock to his door.

"Come in," he said.

The door slid open, and a young man stepped inside. Looking at him now, clean, healed of the injuries he had sustained in the fight, and dressed in a dark suit, it was almost hard to believe he was looking at the same man that had attacked the Gongagan outpost three months ago. The man in front of him could be no older than eighteen. But the eyes told him all he needed to know. The eyes and the scar.

The man came to a stop in front of Veld's desk. Veld saw his eyes glance downwards at the sword on the table. A flicker of recognition appeared in them for a moment, but he didn't let it show on his face. His eyes moved upwards, meeting Veld's head on.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked.

"Yes," said Veld. He glanced at the man's attire. "...I see you've found the uniform."

"It was hard to miss."

There was a trace of bitterness there. But of course, there would be. Joining the Turks had bought this man his freedom, but he supposed to him, it was just a prison of a different kind. It had been a long time since Veld had last let such things get to him. "How do you like your apartment, Shion?" he asked almost conversationally.

"It's nice. A little big for me. I could have done without the surveillance equipment though."

Veld's mouth quirked up in a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. "You're learning. But all in due time. We're not too sure we can trust you yet, considering the circumstances of your appointment. At any rate..." He gestured at the sword on his desk. "I believe that belongs to you."

Shion's eyes widened. He reached out a hand to take it, then hesitated, his hand hovering in the space between him and the desk. "You're giving it back to me?" he asked.

"You're a Turk," said Veld. "You need a weapon. Besides, there's no point in hiring a swordsman and not letting him have a sword."

Shion hesitated for a moment more. He nodded once, making his decision, and picked up the sword from on top of the desk.

"My swordbelt?" he asked.

Veld inclined his head toward the cabinet to his left. As Shion started towards it, he spoke up. "We can get a magnetic sheath installed into your suit if you prefer," he said.

The newly appointed Turk opened the cabinet, immediately locating the belt and slipping it on. He shook his head, sliding the sheathed sword into it and allowing the blade to rest against his hip on his left side. He lifted one hand, resting it lightly on the hilt. "You just said you wanted me to fight the way I've always fought," he said. "And that means drawing from the side, not the back."

"Suit yourself," said Veld. "I didn't call you here to exchange pleasantries, though."

Shion frowned, looking over his shoulder at the other man. "I figured as much," he said. "What is it?"

"Your first job," said Veld. He caught the way the swordsman tensed at the word, the tension traveling up his body and into his shoulders. The fingers of his left hand curled loosely around his sword hilt. It wasn't his drawing hand, so Veld let it be. He picked up a heavy folder from beside him, holding it out towards Shion. Shion walked towards it, frowning as he took it from him. He flipped it open, scanning the first page quickly.

"Junon?" he asked. Veld nodded, and the young Turk looked up. "You're sending me alone?" he asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

"Of course not," said Veld, smiling slightly. "You'll be accompanying me."

Shion stared at him. "...You, sir?" he repeated.

"Consider this your first test," said Veld. "I'll take command for now, but I'll also be evaluating your performance."

The younger Turk stared at him for a moment more, before nodding once. He glanced down at the file, opening it and continuing to read. Veld shook his head. "Finish reading on the chopper. I'll brief you there as well," he said. "We need to head out immediately."

Shion frowned, but nodded once, snapping the folder shut. "Sir."

"And one more thing, Shion," said Veld as he started toward the door. Shion looked up at him, then glanced down as Veld held something out to him. It was a small card, one with the Shinra company logo on it and his picture. Shion took it from him gingerly, as if it was a snake and he was afraid it would bite him. "Unless you're going undercover, never go anywhere without your ID."

Shion nodded once, taking it and slipping it into the inside pocket of his suit. Judging from the look on his face, it seemed as though he didn't want to have to look at it any longer than necessary. Veld waited until he was done, then started for the door. The other Turk hesitated. For a moment, Veld thought he wouldn't follow, but before he had reached the door, Shion fell into step behind him. His reluctance was evident on his features, but he had obeyed, and he was ready.

We'll make a Turk out of you yet, thought Veld, glancing at the young swordsman beside him before heading out of the door.

XxXxX

Junon had seen better days.

That was Shion's first thought as he followed his new superior onto the helipad of the Shinra building there. He could see the ocean from up here, but it was an unrecognizable muddy color, and the city sprawled out in front of him on the other side. Shion wrinkled up his nose as the smell of the air hit him. It was slightly sulfurous, no doubt coming from one of the factories in the area. He glanced at Veld to see if he had noticed, but the man was simply continuing to walk, heading towards the door on the rooftop.

Shion wasn't quite sure what to make of Veld. It had been a scant three days since the Turk leader had approached him in his prison cell, and had offered him something Shion had once told himself he would always refuse. A job, with Shinra's most infamous department. A chance to—how was it Veld had put it?—put his considerable talents to good use instead of squandering them in prison. He wasn't sure he considered a job with the Turks as "good use", but he had accepted, and now here he was. He had expected to be treated as the enemy as soon as he got out, and certainly there was some of that—the surveillance cameras he had found in his new apartment, for one—but for the most part, Veld was treating him like...

...Like a new employee. Someone who had chosen this of their own free will.

Thinking about it made him slightly uncomfortable, so he did another thing he thought he would never do. He put those thoughts aside and focused on the mission, following Veld towards the door. The guards at the door barely spared him a second glance, although when they glanced at him the first time, Shion saw recognition in their eyes. His own eyes hardened, and he glared at them, but their eyes flickered to his suit, and he said nothing.

It wasn't just him, he realized as they walked into the building. Some of the other employees watched Veld with distrust as well. The older Turk didn't seem to care, letting their stares brush right off him with the ease brought on by years of practice. Shion didn't have years of practice. He noticed the whispers.

"...What are the Turks doing here?"

"Shh...not so loud, they might hear you!"

Shion glanced at Veld again. This time, he caught Shion's eye. A flicker of a smile appeared on his face, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Before Shion registered what he was doing, he nodded back, following Veld in silence through the walls. Their business wasn't here anyway. The mission he was accompanying Veld on involved the streets of Junon. And although the rest of his day had been full of surprises, this mission had been exactly what he had thought a Turk mission would be. Shion's expression grew grim as he recalled the specifics, his left hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

They were to recover an item from a traitor to Shinra—one who hadn't known that he had been discovered yet. They were to uncover his associates.

And then, as discreetly as possible, they were to kill him.