ACT III
POLARIS
The great pagoda at Hōryū-ji, or what so-called "Orientals" from across the sea referred to as the "Great Pagoda of Wutai", was still the tallest, and oldest, surviving extant wooden structure in the world. The five-story pagoda stood at least forty meters tall, and were it transplanted to the Midgar undercity prior to Meteorfall, would've reached more than halfway to the city plates. When she was young, she remembered how architects and academics from Midgar and Junon would come as tourists and marvel at how such a thing could've been constructed fifteen hundred years ago, when the princes and princesses of Eastern Continent were still living in squat hunting halls across the marches.
To the Princess Yufi, Daughter of Wutai, it was a monument of uselessness, part of a temple to a religion she didn't believe, in honor of a philosophy, the dharma, she didn't subscribe to. It had been, after the war, at least the central attraction of Wutai's profitable tourism industry, the same industry that had ceased to exist along with the rest of the global economy after the destruction of Midgar. Before her birth in the last years of the First Wutai War, the pagoda, and other parts of the temple complex, had been subject to bombardment by the largest aircraft in the Midgar Confederation's air fleet, first long-range bombers taking off from the Polaris Aerodrome, then smaller naval aircraft launched from the Junon Navy's two aircraft carriers. There was no repeat of the air war during the Second Wutai War, because there was no ocean-crossing Imperial Wutaian military by the Second Wutai War, just a few outdated aircraft, regiments of militia and other irregulars confined to the archipelago. There were no Midgar Confederation armed forces either, because by then, there was no Midgar Confederation. Instead, Wutai versus Shinra.
"Your Highness, the Sesshō will see you now," a woman in a white kimono explained.
"Don't call me that," Yuffie Kisaragi snapped. Being the tallest surviving building in the Imperial City, you could easily see the Great Pagoda from any south-facing window in the Imperial Palace. Despite her complaints, she was still escorted into the inner chambers of the main hall by the woman in the white kimono. "And I don't need permission from you, or any other toadies, to see my fath-…you! Who the hell are you?"
The question was directed at an old, nearly skeletal-looking man in a flat green military uniform, a four-pocket pattern military jacket with scarlet collar insignia, matching wool pants with polished leather riding boots. Yuffie was surprised she hadn't noticed him earlier, with how painfully his style of dress stood out among the kimonos and traditional clothing on the palace grounds. It was the military uniform worn by the valiant enemies of the Midgar Confederation, as they'd called themselves before she was born, the Imperial armed forces.
"Your Highness, that is Hazuki-hakushaku," the woman explained patiently. "Uncle to His Highness the Regent, your own great uncle and…"
"I know who it is!" Yuffie barked. "What are you doing here, and why are you dressed like that?"
"I'm here serving my liege the Regent, Your Highness," Count Hazuki answered himself.
"As what? Field Marshal of the Imperial Army?" She was practically shouting now.
"Yuffie!" A loud, deep voice shouted from the inner rooms. "Stop harassing your grand uncle. That's what your father is for."
Yuffie, in her sleeveless shirt, vest and khaki shorts, dramatically shoved her way past the wall of white kimonos, scowling at her great uncle the whole time, before she entered the antechamber to the royal apartments, where she thought she'd find her father, the Prince Regent of Wutai, Lord Godo. But he wasn't there; the antechamber was empty, and she was about to shout her anger when the same deep voice called to her through the sliding walls.
"Yuffie, girl!" The voice was unexpectedly informal but insist. "Over here, now!"
Glancing once over her shoulder to make sure the entrance was shut behind her, she quickly snaked through a pair of sliding doors to the royal apartment's study where, amid what would still be described as particularly luxurious, old world surroundings, she found her father wearing a luxurious blue sill kimono that was dragged along the study's hardwood floor before he had taken his seat at a desk. In front of him was something less old fashioned, but still an antique: a tabletop reel-to-reel tape player, older than her portable model, meticulously set up on his massive desk. As if to confirm her belief that he would never have learned to operate such a thing, another military man—this one dressed like Count Hazuki, but her own age, with a sheathed sword hanging from his belt—greeted her with a salute before turning back to the Prince Regent.
"You idiot, what're you…" she began scathingly only to have him raise a hand at her and loudly shush her. The aide-de-camp nearly gave an awkward shrug; somewhere out of sight, a set of stereo speakers had been set up and two male voices were speaking in relaxed conversation.
[START]
First Speaker: If you'll excuse me for saying so, Your Excellency, my position hasn't changed. I was, and still am, in favor of a peaceful and just world. But we must ask ourselves, what would such a world look like?
Second Speaker: [LAUGHTER] I wasn't expecting such…sophistry…from such a celebrated revolutionary thinker. Do you know how much you sound like the W.R.O.? [PAUSE] Though I suppose I shouldn't fault you for having the same dogmatic view of history, considering your life under the corporation. As for your comrades in the military…what does the military see as peace, anyway? The sunny, romantic summers of the interbellum years?
First Speaker: [CHUCKLE] Of course. What your father President Shinra's generation called the democratic period. The conclusion of the Hundred Years War against Wutai, when the military controlled every function of government and the Confederation, while it still existed, made little effort to conceal that fact.
Shinra: Even you still call those years the period of military semi-absolutism disguised as liberal parliamentarianism the democratic period, I see. You're no different than my old man. [PAUSE] I'll concede your writings and their analysis of our current material conditions proved remarkably topical and instructive considering the lifetime you've spent incarcerated. I believe I said as much in our correspondence.
FS: [CHUCKLE] So you did. [PAUSE] You know, when I read of you in the newspapers they started giving me after Meteorfall, it was the first I'd heard of you, or your father's passing.
Shinra: Oh?
FS: I wondered why you were held in such high esteem by the military, particularly the army in Junon. I always believed Shinra to have barely concealed disdain for the postwar armed forces, when the company transmuted the Confederation Ministry of War into what they called the Peace Preservation. A change forced from above on the victors of the Wutai World War. Taking the class with all of a postwar society's weapons and war-making experience and subordinating it to the new bourgeoisie. The political classes and the press assumed they'd never forgive that insult, that your father succeeded in eliminating all of his enemies but one.
Shinra: Two. The Midgar and Junon armies.
[STOP]
The Prince Regent clapped his hands together triumphantly and grinned, first at his aide-de-camp, then at his daughter. "Incredibly! Absolutely incredible! Do you know what that was?"
"Rufus Shin-…"
"Rufus Shinra!" Godo shouted over her, turning back and forth again. "The Rufus Shinra! That's who Reevee sent to negotiate: his secret paymaster! Well, it's not such a secret now is it?" he asked gleefully.
"Hai, Godo-dono," the military man replied obediently, not having moved.
"How much more of this...er, tape…is there?"
"About ten minutes, sir."
"And the source didn't provide any more reels?"
"No sir, just the one," he explained apologetically.
Godo nodded and touched his chin, before turning to her again. "Yuffie! When did you arrive?" he asked, as if the thought just occurred to him, while dismissing the army officer with a gesture.
"God, dad! I told you I was coming in on the next flight! We spoke over PHS, remember?!" she snapped at him, dragging one of the antique chairs from a smaller sitting table towards the desk and sitting down in it. She was about to shout again when she took a deep breath, put two fingers against her forehead, and swiftly exhaled before turning back to Godo. "Where did you get that audio tape?"
He grinned at her mischievously. "Your old man still has his sources, you know? I still have reliable men in Junon and the East." Simulating grave dignity, he picked up a pair of reading glasses next to the reel-to-reel machine while the aide-de-camp began rewinding the tape back onto the source reel, placed them on his long nose, then snapped his fingers at him. "Did you want to hear the rest? You wouldn't have the government clearance, but given the situation…'
"No, and don't talk to me about 'clearance'," she chided him, using the same eastern loanword. "You call this a government? A dozen old men in kimonos."
She stared daggers at the young man fiddling with the take-up spool while politely trying to ignore her. "And what's with all the uniforms?" she demanded, switching from Wutaian to Oriental.
Godo gave him a look. "You realize the Prince Regent of the Wutaian Empire is also commander-in-chief of the…" he began in slow if passable Oriental.
"Gawd, let me do it!" She shoved the military officer away from the desk, stood up, and removed both reels from the player with a single experienced hand, keeping the other balled into an angry fist, then presenting the loaded supply reel at him. In an overly formal fashion, the aide-de-camp took the supply reel with both hands and bowed his head.
Godo was visibly disappointed at her disinterest. She looked at him out of the corner of one eye. "Illyich. That's who Rufus Shinra was talking too. He is…he was a political prisoner of Shinra's, from Mt. Nibel. He's the new leader of Junon's Revolutionary Labor Party, or whatever they're called now."
Her father kept staring at her blankly. "And of course, you've never heard of him," she added dryly.
"Of…course I've heard of him. Ill-yich," he answered unconvincingly. "As I saying, you friends in the W.R.O. aren't the only ones benefitting from an intercontinental spy network. We've been following the negotiations. We know that Edge thought negotiations with Junon would go smoother if Taira and the Admiralty were out of the picture, and we know they were wrong, as usual," he elaborated, returning to Wutaian and taking the reel from her finally.
"Oh really, Lord Godo," she taunted him, turning to him with a grin.
"Oh yes really! Or have you forgotten I was dealing with the Easterners and their overcomplex political machinations since before you were born," he responded gruffly. "I may be old, but I'm still Prince Regent of the Empire of Wutai." Godo's tone shifted, and Yuffie didn't bother hiding her eyes as they rolled.
"You see, after Midgar and the Shinra fell, that…world left by Meteorfall." Godo's classical Wutaian was tinged with dignity, but he couldn't hide the fact the was searching for his words as he stood up and began to pace around the room. "Wutai, this country, returned to preeminence. The last sovereign nation on the Planet. Our history, our destiny, the decade of humiliation after the Hundred Year War…girl, are you listening to me?"
Yuffie was still sitting at his desk, dramatically imitating his speech before turning to him and scowling. "You idiot. I mean, I always knew you were stupid, but seriously, you idiot," she hissed, compressing as much scorn as she could into that two-syllable word.
Godo looked genuinely bewildered by her response. "What?"
She jerked the chair around and leaned towards him. "You know there's going to be a war? Have you even picked a side?"
Her father scoffed arrogantly; the telltale sign of someone trying to muster some needed bravado. "A side? Between Junon and Edge?"
"No, you idiot! Between the Illyich and Reeve!"
Godo closed his mouth, and an expression appeared on his face that on a more thoughtful man might be called contemplative reflection. Then he turned towards the closed window and lifted one of the shutters, probably staring out the Great Pagoda. Yuffie watched him impatiently, a foot tapping against the hardwood floor.
"Well?" she demanded.
Her father turned back to her, the previous look of contemplation replaced with blank obliviousness. "What happened to that investment banker you were supposed to prosecute?"
She felt her face squint. "What?"
"The criminal investor, the one in Edge who was trafficking girls? With the private plane? Before you said it was for financial crimes and influence peddling, but then it was trafficking girls." There was a genuine unease to her father's voice, seriousness without the pompous posturing. "Last time you called, you said you were going to prosecute for the W.R.O., and if I knew anyone involved, I should tell them to turn themselves over while they still had a chance." No discernable fear, just seriousness and genuine curiosity.
"Oh, Hart." She sighed. Jeffry Steiner Hart, formerly a member of the Edge City Council and before that, Deputy Mayor of Midgar. "Him. He killed himself, apparently."
Godo stared at her, mouth agape. She decided not to elaborate on her own, but eventually he did ask. "How?"
Her sarcasm was so severe it broke into mockery. "Broken neck. He tried to hang himself in his prison cell."
Author's Notes:
When tardy with updates, use the excuse of length. I intended to begin the third act more regularly, but ran into the issue of how the third act would weigh into the overall narrative, and ended up…siding with probably a shorter rather than longer treatment of the planned narrative. Which is probably a good thing, in my case (a more punctual writer wouldn't have to worry about that). The second and now third act introductions, you may've noticed, are not a feature of any of my other stories, which have straightforward progressions in their narrative; they're a fun opportunity to tease certain things, and confirm other suspicions. This one even more so. Farewell to the minor Disc 1 NPC "Hart"—if there was ever any indication I started writing this story back in mid-2019, and casually folded in newsworthy topics as they came across my desk, that most minor of minor characters being hung out to dry (excuse the pun) must be a painfully obvious one. If I could figure out a narratively clever way to incorporate the global pandemic into the story, I probably would've. That aside, the usual thanks and appreciation to anyone still reading