4: Modern Warheads
Shuyin glared at his father, his eyes never straying from the older man's. Both of them held their composure, their facial expressions giving absolutely nothing away as they weighed up the situation. Inside, Shuyin was torn into a turmoil, questions buzzing around the inside of his skull as he tried to figure out why his father was at the Military offices, and why he wore the official uniform of a Zanarkand solider. Something didn't sit right with him, and it made him feel uneasy.
Jachyt stared steadily back at his son, the strange mixture of guilt and resentment boiling in the pit of his stomach. The same feelings always stirred whenever he saw Shuyin, brought on by the knowledge that he could have done so much more for the boy, instead of boozing away his life and marriage after every Blitzball match. He'd never had the willpower to say no, and now there was nothing he could do to change the past. His son was no longer a boy, and all he had before him was a young man filled with hatred towards the father he'd never had.
"Are you going to tell me what you're doing here, or are you just going to continue wasting my time?" Shuyin snarled at his old man. There was nobody around to witness their dispute, though no one would have cared if they had been there to witness it. Too many other bigger problems on everyone's mind.
"None of your business why I'm here, same as it's none of my business why you're here. I could guess, and I bet that'd be as accurate as anything you choose to tell me," Jachyt retorted, his cheeks flushed in rage and embarrassment. "You're here to protect your little lover, to send yourself out in her place."
"You don't know me as well as you think you do," Shuyin hissed back. "I'm here because I've been drafted. I'm as opposed to the war as I've ever been."
"Yet you're going to sign up. It's because you're mushy at heart, a crybaby who is far too in touch with his own emotions. If you were a real man, you'd let Lenne fight for your freedom, while picking up a new girl to chase the time away," Jachyt turned away, unsurprised when a hand wrapped around his wrist. He was taken by surprise when a fist shot out to meet with his nose.
The crunching sound satisfied Shuyin deeply as he watched his father fall into the gravel, a stream of red spraying across the floor and down the man's new uniform. He clenched his fists together tightly, resisting the urge to continue pummelling the fallen man. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Shuyin turned towards the doorway to the Military Base of Operations. Pausing one last time, he faced his shocked father.
"Real men don't toss their partners to the curb the minute the going gets tough. They stay by their sides and defend them until their last breath. You wouldn't know that, because you're the weakest excuse for a man that I've ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone share genes with," Shuyin spat. "Lenne isn't a commodity. She isn't something to be thrown out to buy time. She's my lover, my friend and my soulmate. I will be the one to stand between her and death."
"There's a way to save Lenne without fighting, death or blood. I know the way. But you're too much of a coward to take it," Jachyt said through swollen lips. He spat blood onto the floor, the rest dribbling from his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. "It involves self-sacrifice, and although you have a lot of talk, there's not an ounce of skill in you to back it up."
"What the hell are you talking about, you crazy codger?"
"I'm talking about whispers I've heard, a weapon that the Bevellians created and now live in fear of. If any man got himself a hold of that machina, I'm pretty sure they'd be master of the world. They wouldn't even need to use it, just barter to the warring nations and get peace one way of the other. But that's beyond your capabilities. You're just a pretty face after all, and a poor Blitzball player."
Shuyin froze, the words of his father sinking in, although he knew that he shouldn't let them. It was a bad idea to trust anything that Jachyt said, but something in his words held Shuyin's attention. There were always rumours around about Bevelle and their engineers, people who were forever tinkering with metal and electricity and other elements in order to make life comfortable. Those people were in employment with Bevelle's military, helping them make deadly machina and weapons to wipe Zanarkand out.
About a week ago, Shuyin had gone to a local bar with his teammates. An old merchant had been ranting at the patriots upon Shuyin's arrival, scaring the other drinkers with his declarations the war was lost. His reasoning had been that Bevelle had finally finished their greatest machina ever, a machine so powerful it could wipe out a metropolis twice the size of Zanarkand in a heartbeat. A group of warriors had arrived promptly when called and no one had seen the old man since. The words had been old ones, but mixed with Jachyt's they held new meaning.
"How can you be so sure that this is what I want to hear? I might have made plans of my own," Shuyin replied, knowing he was taking the bait.
"I know that you want to save Lenne and stop her from going to the front lines, because I was there when she went to the Elder. I heard her asking for a meeting, knew that you'd asked her to refuse her summons. It was all too easy to piece together, knowing the sort of person you are in matters of the heart. She wouldn't have told you she went though, because you're all for running and she's a girl of honour. How you two have made it this far is beyond me," Jachyt answered, a nasty grin spreading across his face as his words infected Shuyin.
Shuyin felt stunned. He hadn't wanted Lenne to go to the Elder. That would be a black mark against her skills as a summoner and her good-natured heart. Yes, he'd asked her not to go, but Shuyin had never thought that Lenne would involve the higher-ups in the matter. But of course she would, he chastised himself. She would want to do everything by the book, go through all the red-tape, ask for permission. She would never have been able to turn her back on Zanarkand entirely. The Fayth and summoners relied on sacrifices, he knew. It was the strongest magic in Spira, yet he'd believed Lenne could have one selfish moment to herself. He had been wrong.
"Lenne went to the Elder," he murmured to himself, the shock still radiating through his body. Words escaped him, and Shuyin stood alone in his thoughts, his reasons for being at the Military forgotten as he tortured himself. "She went to ask for freedom and respite. For me."
"I've joined the army," Jachyt announced, interrupting Shuyin's thoughts when it became clear the younger man would not speak. "That's why I'm here. I've gotten myself a job, just like you wanted, and it's an honourable one too. There are a lot of whispers going on in that building. Many secrets in all its hallways and rooms. You might find something out if you join too, instead of making a fool of yourself by screaming at them. You could learn of a way to save Lenne, hear more about that machina Bevelle is so afraid of. You could go out before her, so she never need leave Zanarkand."
"How do you know about this machina?" Shuyin asked suddenly, his suspicions about his father's moral core back to the forefront of his mind. "They wouldn't have let you know about something that important. What are you setting me up for?"
Jachyt shrugged. "Believe me, don't believe me. Doesn't really matter. I'm set now. I'm ready to do my part. Are you ready to do yours?"
The older man didn't wait for an answer, turning and heading down the empty street to the main city before Shuyin had a chance to get angry or ask more questions. Confused and angry, Shuyin turned to face the Military offices, his mind in two halves as he tried to make a hard decision.
Crossing the entrance was easy, as was walking over to the front desk. Telling the receptionist what he was there for was harder, and waiting for his moment of truth excruciating. All the while Shuyin thought about the machina so powerful its creators feared it. A new opponent in a harsh war, one that was strong enough to settle the differences between the nations and get them to come together. He could be the instigator, the catalyst, a force unto his own. If he got near that machina, would Bevelle be humble enough to ask Zanarkand for help?
That didn't matter. Trying did. If he never attempted the task, he would be no better than his father. He would be a weak man. And if Bevelle didn't ask Zanarkand for help, didn't settle the war without more bloodshed, then he would already be in the perfect position to take them down alone. He would be with their machina, their monster, and he would be able to destroy Bevelle. He would be at the enemy's heart, and Lenne need never leave the safety of their shared home.
He would have done his part.
"Are you Shuyin?"
The sound of his name stirred Shuyin from his morbid thoughts, and he looked up to find the face of a pretty female solider staring down at him. He stood up from the chair he'd taken refuge in, hastily offering a hand and a yes to the woman before him. She smiled grimly, leading him down a dark corridor and into a stuffy office. The guards patrolling the place didn't escape Shuyin's notice, and he pushed down his frustration.
"You received your letter on the - " the woman paused, flicking through notes as Shuyin stared longingly into the hallway. "Seventh day of the third semester. You are just within the five week time limit, therefore no fine or criminal record will be issued. No doubt you were waiting out the situation, seeing if it was going to clear up. Many young men and women are doing just that."
"Actually, I was busy with other matters," Shuyin retorted hotly. He had not intended to reply to the council at all, and the woman's know-it-all stare was irritating him more than his reluctant acceptance of the summons. "I am an efficient and skill swordsman. I have been in the warrior vocation far longer than the Blitzball one. I do not fear the enemy or death."
"An unwise position to take, if you ask me." The woman sniffed loudly, pulling out his record to spread his papers across the table. "You were Lady Lenne's guardian on her pilgrimage a while back. You had no formal training as a warrior or guardian, yet you were selected personally by the Lady herself. Her close friend, Norua, was the one who allowed this position to be made official. However, even without the certificates and references, you are listed in the top fifty swordsmen that Zanarkand has to offer."
Shuyin said nothing regarding this accolade, sitting stiffly in front of the woman as she scribbled down notes on a separate piece of parchment. She stamped it with wax and then signed it. When she rose out of her seat to collect a StillSphere, Shuyin glimpsed at some more private papers that sat in her tray. Blueprints and memos sat on the top, speaking of a secret movement around the shores of Zanarkand. The woman came back, a bored expression on her face as she took Shuyin's picture and slotted it in his application form.
"I heard we're losing because Bevelle have created a monster machina," Shuyin suddenly stated bluntly as she handed his form over. The woman paled and dropped his sheets, the papers fluttering across the room. Shuyin helped to collect them together again, using her distraction to plough on. "I mean, it's no secret that Bevelle are tech-manics. Is it true then? We're all condemned to death."
"Whatever you have heard is a lie," the woman said swiftly, regaining her composure. "Bevelle have higher numbers and slightly advanced weapons. They rely on guns, rockets and hand-bombs. They do not have an ounce of magic within their veins. This is why we will win the war."
She sounded as though she was reciting a well practised speech, a line given to the officials of their world to keep the citizens calm. She thrust Shuyin's papers into his arms and all but shoved him out of the door. He turned to see her dialling an Interface as the door slammed shut in his face. He had rattled her.
That wasn't what played on Shuyin's mind as he was bundled through different departments that day. No, what bothered him was that Zanarkand knew about this machina, this killing machine, and were not going to do anything about it.
Not a damn thing.
He looked around when he exited the office block later that afternoon, looking for some sign of his failure of a father. He hadn't stuck around to taunt Shuyin anymore, for which he was glad, yet a part of him wished the old man had given him more to go on. The machina sounded like the perfect playing chip. If he got to it, if he broke through Bevelle and actually got close enough to threaten them, he could save his home.
Inaction wasn't a strong enough demonstration of opposition. Shuyin could no longer do nothing and think that it would keep Lenne from getting hurt. This was just what he needed. A solo mission that ensured no one else got hurt or endangered. Shuyin smiled grimly as he left the offices, a dark and foreboding look in his eyes that was not his own.
It was startling.
Lenne screwed up the piece of paper she had just written on and threw it behind her in frustration. She didn't know why, but writing a song for Shuyin was much harder than it had ever been before. All the other times she had written a new song, the feelingswould flow easily from ink to paper and would match the beat of her heart.
Behind her sat a pile of failed songs. Lenne sighed in annoyance and stood up, walking to the kitchen to return with food. She sat down hard, thinking about exactly what she wanted to tell Shuyin. Deciding it was better to wait for the right moment to let her feelings loose, Lenne turned on the SphereVu and settled back to watch the news with her lunch.
"The death toll for the city has just risen to a thousand," the newsreader was declaring grimly as she tuned in. "Nearly two thirds of these deaths are civilians from the outer reaches of Zanarkand. In the field, two hundred soldiers and warriors have fallen to the forces of Bevelle. The number rose drastically after this morning's brutal attack in the Eastern Outer Circle, where viewers this morning witnessed the deaths of our news crew."
Lenne listened in horror as the newswoman spoke of the attack in the outer provinces of Zanarkand, showing the aftermath through amateur video footage. It made her insides burn with fear and determination. She just had to fight for her city.
She jumped as the front door slammed shut and Shuyin walked into their living room. There was a strange look about him, as if a fierce determination of his own had been lit from somewhere deep inside him. He was carrying a tatty old bag that he hid from her view, and she wondered where he had been all morning. Shuyin didn't speak for a long moment, his eyes flitting about the room for a safe topic to bring up. Spotting the screwed up paper behind Lenne's head, he grinned.
"Decided to have a paper ball fight with yourself, did you?" he asked Lenne, leaning over the sofa to slip his arms around her.
"Of course. I always do," she smiled back, kissing him lightly on the cheek, before slipping free from his grasp and gathering the failed songs in her arms.
"I see these balls are not for my eyes, as always." Shuyin rolled onto the sofa, his hand still tightly wrapped around his bag. Lenne had no idea what it contained and wished she did. Maybe it would tell her why Shuyin looked so agitated. "You need some more space to work it out?"
"No. I'm done for the day," Lenne murmured softly.
Shuyin picked up her sandwich and took a hearty bite out of it.
"Oi," Lenne yelled indignantly. They wrestled until the sandwich landed on the floor, laying there completely forgotten. "How was your training session?" Lenne asked, suddenly remembering why Shuyin had gone out this morning. Seeing the lumpiness of the bag reassured her. It must contain his dirty uniform. What didn't reassure her was the guilty look that appeared on his face. It was gone soon, quickly replaced by sadness.
"Strange. The journey there was littered with homeless people I had never noticed before. I wish I had, then maybe I would have understood our city's suffering better. Maybe my heart will follow my eye's suit and open up. I'm certainly feeling things I've never felt before," Shuyin sighed deeply.
Lenne's heart almost broke in two as she looked at Shuyin and his helplessness. He seemed to be dejected and afraid. She had never seen his vulnerable side before, and it was scaring her more than she was willing to admit.
"I know."
They sat in silence for a long time, each thinking about their own problems and fears, unaware that they were feeling the same things.
"I'm going for a shower," Shuyin said when the moment became too strained. He got up and silently left the room, old kit bag in tow.
Lenne felt like crying. The war was slowly tearing them about. Times were changing for the whole city and she had a horrible feeling that Shuyin and herself were not meant to be part of the future. She didn't fully understand it, but a sense of dread had settled on her shoulders. This new world was not for them, but she could not imagine a place where they could go together. If she did, she would have taken Shuyin there in a second to end his pain.
She took a fresh piece of paper from her notebook, ready to try again. She would do this no matter what it took. Lenne closed her eyes and sat back, listening intently to the sounds of the city all around her. An hour later and she was no further along, but Shuyin was now out of the shower. Wanting to spend some time with him, Lenne got to her feet, only for Shuyin to walk out of their bedroom and to the door. Lenne froze by the sofa, watching as he fumbled with his key chain.
"Where are you going?" she asked nervously. He didn't have the ratty bag with him, which gave Lenne a sense of relief she couldn't explain. It was as though that bag was a bad omen.
"Just out."
Lenne felt a stab of hurt fill her chest. Shuyin always told her everything. Why was he hiding things now?
"Where is out?" she persisted, feeling childish and stupid.
"Don't worry yourself Lenne," Shuyin said with a genuine smile. "I'll be just fine."
As he turned to leave the house, Lenne knew that she didn't want him to leave. Not now, not ever. She had to stop him, or else she would never see him again. At least, that was what the small, mean voice in her head was telling her. She clenched her fists tightly.
"Please don't leave me Shuyin."
She knew deep down inside why he was going and until now she had been unable to face it.
"I'm only going for a while, Lenne. You'll see me again, sooner than you think."
"But I want to see you now. I need you now, Shuyin."
Her childish insistences were making her feel ashamed. She wanted to cling to him, wrap her arms over his shoulders and come face to face with him, only inches separating their lips. She wanted to kiss him and tell him that she loved everything he was. She wanted to take all those missed moments and opportunities and live through them in that minute.
She couldn't bring herself to do anything.
"I'll come back," Shuyin whispered.
It was a quiet whisper, so quiet that Lenne almost missed it. It was as though Shuyin had deliberately said it quietly so that he wasn't entirely committing himself to his words, so that he wasn't going to break a promise. It was almost as if Shuyin was kidding himself into believing he would be back, when all facts told him he wouldn't.
"No! Shuyin don't. Please. Please ... I ... I lo - "
Lenne was beside herself, but with anger. She was angry.
"You'll ruin everything!" she cried out.
Shuyin showed no anger or fear. He just looked sad.
Longingly sad.
"I will come back," he repeated with the same deathly quiet voice.
"No. No, you won't." Lenne broke off, her heart in her throat. Shuyin's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Lenne waited for him to repeat his reassurances, except he didn't. He just turned and opened the door, letting it click behind him softly. Lenne stayed put, her tears slowly rolling down her flushed cheeks. Her grief overwhelmed her and she threw the first thing her hand came into contact with. The china plate broke into a thousand tiny pieces, tinkering as they scattered across the floor.
Inspiration struck and Lenne reached for her notebook. She was going to fix things. This song would be the thing to fix things. It had to. She wrote all night, changing and tweaking lyrics here and there, picking out notes carefully to string together and form a tune. She wrote to fill the time spent waiting, because what she was really doing was waiting for the moment that Shuyin would walk through the door. When he did, she would give him the song. The moment was right. She would tell Shuyin that she loved him.
Lenne had almost uttered the words before, but she hadn't wanted them said out of desperation. She wanted to show Shuyin that she was stronger than that. That had been the wrong time. With a flourish, she added the finishing touches to the song, beaming when she sung it quietly to herself. It was perfect, the most beautiful song that she had ever created. She loved it and knew that Shuyin would too.
She stifled a yawn and leant back to check the time. Early morning. Seeing how late it had gotten frightened Lenne for a moment. How could Shuyin not be back? Was he staying somewhere else for the night? Had their fight been that serious? Lenne was scared that he really was gone, that she had chased him away. Another yawn came on stronger than the last, her eyes watering as she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Shivering from the cold, Lenne pulled her legs up to her chest and tugged the blanket off the sofa and around her arms. She blinked the tears away heavily, letting tiredness bite at her eyes for a change. She kept them glued upon the front door too, breathing deeply and steadily to control her nerves.
"He will come back," she said aloud. "He promised and Shuyin never breaks a promise."
Her voice echoed around the empty room and she sighed.
After another lonely hour, the blanket was no longer enough to keep her warm, yet Lenne was reluctant to stop watching the door. She rose from the sofa, only to return moments later with a duvet. She bundled herself up once more and collapsed into a warm heap.
"Is he really coming back?" a small voice said at the back of her mind. "I don't think he is. I think he's learnt to fight his battles alone."
"No, no, no!" Lenne muttered sleepily, but the fears wouldn't go away. Her tired mind eventually stopped the thoughts dead and allowed Lenne to fall into a dreamless sleep. In her hand was the song she had written, her fingers still clutching the inky paper. The title stood out the most, A Thousand Words, and its meaning was more poignant than even Lenne known, for she had unconsciously chosen the number a thousand after the death toll.
Mostly Lenne had intended it to stand for the thousand words she wished she had told Shuyin.