DISCLAIMER: I don't own FF7.

Author's note: This story takes place about seven years before the start of FF7 and is based only on the events in the original game (i.e., this story may not be consistent with Before Crisis or Crisis Core). This fic will eventually feature a Sephiroth x OC pairing, but before you click the "back" button, let me assure you that you won't find any Mary Sues here. Also, please take the M rating seriously as this story contains violence, swearing, and adult content. Now, enjoy my take on the military occupation of Wutai!

Chapter One

"Burn it to the ground."

President Shinra's last orders echoed in Sephiroth's mind as he watched the smoke rise up in dark, heavy clouds. He remembered the greasy smile on Shinra's face as he'd patted him on the shoulder and walked away, Heidegger laughing in tow.

"Gya haa haa haa! Congratulations on your promotion, General."

Sephiroth's gloved hand clenched into a fist at his side, the flames from the valley below mirrored in his eyes. Beneath the din of gunfire and destructive magic, he could hear the screams of women and children as they burned alive in their homes. And beneath that still, the keening cries of those outside in the streets, suffering an even worse fate at the hands of his men…

His men. The knowledge left a bitter taste in Sephiroth's mouth. He had long desired to command, to lead the SOLDIER elite into glorious battle. But this…there was no glory in this slaughter.

"It seems the reinforcements have arrived," a voice said smoothly behind him.

"Reinforcements," Sephiroth scoffed, not bothering to turn. "You mean the army."

The general's Mako-enhanced eyes followed the course of the Wutanese soldiers as they advanced from the west. Emblazoned with the serpent Leviathan, their pale blue banners lashed in the wind, as if the images of the water god had come to life and were writhing in their fury.

"Call them what you will," the man replied calmly, moving forward to stand at Sephiroth's side. "Either way, they're too little and too late."

Sephiroth glanced at the black-suited figure standing next to him. A rookie still, yet he'd already distinguished himself enough for Sephiroth to know his name.

"Tseng of the Turks," the general greeted dryly. "I suppose I should thank you."

The man gave a casual shrug, a lock of dark hair falling from his shoulder. "A few wrong words in the right ear, that was all. The city of Ijin lies directly in the path of the capitol, so it seemed the logical target for the next assault. The Wutanese had no reason to suspect that the might of Shinra would be directed at a remote mountain village, so far removed from the center of the conflict."

No, Sephiroth thought, his eyes returning to the fires below. They had suspected nothing.

"The only men left to defend the valley of Jien were the old and infirm," Sephiroth mused aloud. "All the rest had been drafted to fortify Ijin and the city of Wutai. Not to mention the number of women and children residing in Jien had been severely inflated by evacuees from the cities."

Tseng turned to him, a sly smile on his face. "When you put it that way, Jien sounds like much less of a random target, doesn't it?"

But Sephiroth had known this from the start. After Wutai's most recent defeat, the president had offered Lord Godo Kisaragi the chance to surrender. When Kisaragi had bluntly refused, Shinra's objective had changed. The president no longer intended to merely defeat the people of Wutai.

He meant to destroy them.

"My promotion to the rank of general was not a mere coincidence," Sephiroth reflected, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "The president wanted to distance the Shinra name from this massacre as much as possible. Let SOLDIER be the one directly responsible for the butchering, as opposed to the Shinra army itself."

"Do you really think that's how the Wutanese will remember it?" Tseng asked, glancing sideways at Sephiroth. "They won't remember the looting, the rapes, or the killings—not after long, not in any more than a vague sense. No, what they'll remember is the way smoke seemed to fill the entire sky as the whole valley went up in flames. It's the fire they'll remember." The corner of his lip rose slightly as he met Sephiroth's gaze. "And, of course, the one who started it."

Sephiroth's expression hardened. "I did only what was required of me."

Tseng sighed, turning away from the edge of the cliff, heading back towards the line of tents. "As do we all."

The young general gazed out at the smoldering ruin of Jien. The screaming in his ears had yet to cease.

"This is not how a war should be won," he said quietly.

"No, General," Tseng agreed, surprising him.

As Sephiroth looked back, a shadow seemed to pass over the Turk's features, steeling them. The eyes that held the general's were flinty and cold.

"But it is how this war is won."

Without further pause, he returned to the compound, leaving Sephiroth alone on the precipice. Below, in what remained of the valley, the Wutanese troops had begun to engage his men.

Unsheathing the buster sword strapped to his back, Sephiroth made his descent through the sooty haze, eager to face, at last, the warriors of Wutai.

Night had fallen over the valley of Jien, yet still the battle raged on as the men of Wutai fought desperately to hold their line against the inhuman force that was SOLDIER. The ground churned beneath the warriors' feet, more blood than mud now, as lightning and fire lit the sky and illuminated the faces of the dead.

"Commander, we have to fall back!" a large man yelled to his right, deflecting a barrage of ice crystals with his naginata. His left eye gleamed darkly, wet with blood. "We cannot hold much longer!"

The commander only grit his teeth in anger, whirling away from the bullets aimed at his head. Tightening his grip on the hilt of his katana, he rushed the blue-clad infantryman who'd fired the shots, cutting him down with ease. It was not because of men like this that Wutai was losing the battle.

Blood sliding down the length of his blade, the commander turned his eyes to the south, where the men of SOLDIER were mowing down his troops like stalks of grass. Their eyes glowed in the darkness, a blasphemy of nature. And in the center of the carnage stood their captain—Sephiroth, the Mad Dog of Shinra, his green eyes blazing poison as he blasted through the ranks of the commander's finest men.

No, we cannot hold, the commander thought wearily, brushing away the strands of dark hair that clung to his sweaty brow. And yet, somehow, we must.

He thought back to the scene that had met his eyes upon their arrival to Jien. The countless women lying naked in the dirt, their eyes glassy and unblinking, their thighs stained with blood. He thought of the children whose skulls had been smashed to pieces against the doors and walls of their homes. In his mind, the victims' faces had all been transformed, becoming those of his own precious sister, his own little cousin.

How could men commit such crimes? How could they still stand breathing under the weight of such dishonor?

Because they are not men, the commander decided, the red materia in his armlet beginning to glow. They are monsters.

With a deafening roar, the water god Leviathan appeared in his earthly form, a winged serpent of massive size, hovering above the conflagration. The Shinra infantrymen fled in terror, but the SOLDIERs leading the attack remained, plunging their giant broadswords into the ground as Sephiroth cast a barrier around them.

Silence fell as the gigantic serpent gathered its strength, releasing it in a torrent of waves that swept through the enemy line, extinguishing the fires and crashing against Sephiroth's barrier. Under the force of the assault, the barrier warped and weakened before shattering altogether, but it had absorbed the brunt of the damage. Clutching the swords they'd half buried for support, the SOLDIERs rode out the rest of the attack, leaving the commander cursing as his last hope for victory ebbed away with the tide.

"Commander Kisaragi!"

Slowly, as if in a daze, the commander turned. Numbed by his failure, it took Kisaragi a few moments to realize that the man rushing towards him was Shiro, his longtime friend and the officer he'd charged with the task of securing reinforcements from the warhost at Ijin. Faintly, hope rose within him again.

"Shiro!" Kisaragi shouted as he began to run towards the man, too impatient for an answer to simply wait where he stood. He stumbled slightly in the mud. "What news from Ijin?"

As Shiro shook his head, Commander Kisaragi felt his heart plummet in his chest. "There'll be no aid from Ijin, sir. Commander Jho refuses to send reinforcements."

Kisaragi's disappointment turned swiftly to anger. Enraged, he grabbed Shiro by his metal chest plate, shaking him.

"What do you mean, he refuses? Is he mad? My outpost at Rana had only five hundred men, three hundred of whom now lie dead. We cannot hope to prevail against SOLDIER on our own—surely my uncle must realize that, even if Jho is too much of a fool to see it. You'll have to petition my uncle directly—do it now, damn you," Kisaragi snarled, releasing Shiro with a shove.

Shiro reeled back, struggling to maintain his footing. "But, sir," he began, his voice hesitant as he addressed his commander, "it was Lord Godo himself who forbade Commander Jho from sending his troops to Jien."

Kisaragi's breath drew short. It felt as though his lungs had filled suddenly with ice. Comprehension dawned even as he managed to frame the question.

"What…what are you saying?"

Shiro swallowed, his eyes anxious as he regarded his friend. "Lord Godo has decided to surrender, sir. He has commanded you and your men to fall back."

For a while, Kisaragi simply stood there in the waning darkness, saying nothing. His mind was reeling from this news, and while every fiber of his being screamed at him in protest, he knew that, ultimately, he had no choice but to follow orders.

"Fetch the white banners," he said tonelessly to Shiro, "and tell my men to fall back. That's an order."

Kisaragi strode forward, brushing past Shiro, who looked after him in concern. "But, Haru—I mean, sir…where are you going?"

"North," Haru Kisaragi called back, his grey eyes simmering with cold rage. "To the capitol."

Beneath the shade of a towering willow sat a young woman, her back resting lightly against the tree trunk as she thumbed through the pages of a worn red book. Her legs were folded to the side, the silken hem of her lavender kimono pooling in the grass. As she read, her grey eyes narrowed in concentration, her long dark hair hanging over her shoulder in a loose braid, a jade comb glittering above each ear. Reaching a favorite passage, she smiled, while a gentle breeze swept through the garden, jostling the veil of willow leaves and ruffling the corners of the pages.

"Yumi! Yumi, watch me!"

The young woman looked up from her book, peering through a gap in the willow branches. A short distance away stood her little cousin, a girl of nine years. After catching Yumi's eye, the girl grinned, assuming a fighting stance. With a nod from her instructor Gorky, she withdrew a small shuriken from a pouch at her waist and flung it at a wooden post twenty feet away. The shuriken hit the post with a dull thud, two of its points sinking deeply into the wood. The child whooped in victory.

"Well done, Yuffie!" Yumi exclaimed, beaming. "You're a natural."

"Yes, well done," Gorky said, his own smile hidden beneath the droop of his greying mustache. "I suppose that will be all for today."

Yumi watched as Yuffie bowed hastily to her instructor before bounding over to the willow tree, breathless with excitement.

"Didja see how deep the blades went in?" her cousin panted. "I almost split the post in half, huh?"

"That post has definitely seen better days," Yumi replied with a grin.

Yuffie giggled, plopping down next to her cousin in the soft grass.

"Y'know, old man Gorky says that I remind him a lot of you, Yumi," her cousin said suddenly, looking up at her with large brown eyes. "Why won't you spar anymore? I used to love watching you beat up the boys."

Yumi's smile faltered. "I've told you, Yuffie. I'm done with the ninja arts."

"But why?" the girl demanded. "You never gave a reason."

Through the willow's swaying branches, Yumi gazed out at the practice yard. It had been three years now since she'd held a katana in her hands. She could scarcely remember how it felt.

"Sometimes, our interests change, Yuffie. There's not always a reason behind it," she said, looking at her cousin kindly. "One day, I wanted to fight; the next day, I didn't. It's as simple as that."

Yuffie glared at her, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah? Well I still don't believe you."

Yumi sighed, marking the page in her book before she rose to her feet.

"It must be time for lunch by now," she said, brushing the grass blades from her dress before starting back towards the palace. "Let's go, Yuffie."

Her cousin made a disgruntled noise, but after a few moments, Yumi could hear footsteps padding behind her.

One day, she'll stop asking, Yumi told herself as they crossed the threshold, entering the broad, cool hallway beyond.

Kisaragi Palace was a sprawling estate, consisting of many separate buildings. Today, they would dine in the Lightning Pagoda, which bordered the practice yard. As they reached the end of the main hall, Yumi noticed a large group of servants and guards standing close together, talking in excited whispers.

"What are they whispering about?" Yuffie asked, regarding the group curiously.

Before Yumi could inquire, the screen doors of the dining hall slid open with a violent snap, and her mother's face appeared, her dark eyes flashing. Shooting an angry glare in the servants' direction, the tiny woman hurried over to Yumi and her cousin, the streaks of grey in her black hair gleaming silver in the lantern light.

"Auntie Saya!" Yuffie yelled happily, running up to her. "You shoulda seen me in the yard this morning! I struck the post five times—the far one, too. Yumi says I'm a natural, dontcha, Yumi?"

Yumi didn't reply. Unlike her younger cousin, she could see that her mother was greatly distressed. A strong sense of foreboding gripped her as she stepped forward, ignoring Yuffie's indignant huff.

"Mama, what's wrong?" she asked, frowning. "Has…has something happened at Rana?"

Saya shook her head, kneeling down so that she was at eye level with her niece. "Yuffie, dear, why don't you go ahead into the dining hall? I need to speak with Yumi alone for a few minutes."

Yuffie hesitated, looking uncertainly between them. After a moment, she gave a small nod and ran off.

As Saya straightened, Yumi grasped her mother's hands, her eyes fearful.

"Mama," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "is Haru…is he—"

"Not now," her mother said sternly, cutting her off. Turning back to the servants, she raised her voice. "Don't you have work to attend to?"

The whispering suddenly stopped, and the servants and guards scattered, looking abashed. When the hall was finally clear, Saya took Yumi by the arm, leading her over to a small wooden bench where they sat.

"Yumi," her mother began uncertainly, "there was a terrible attack yesterday on the valley of Jien."

"Jien?" Yumi repeated, her brow wrinkling in confusion. "Why would the Shinra army attack Jien? There's nothing there but rice and goats."

"It wasn't the Shinra army, Yumi," her mother continued, her lips drawn into a thin line. "It was SOLDIER, led by that demon Sephiroth. He set the whole valley ablaze. A valley that was full of women and children with no men to protect them…"

As her mother trailed off, Yumi felt her stomach twist into knots. She didn't need Saya to tell her what had happened to the people of Jien. She knew what beasts men could be, and, if the tales were true, Shinra's SOLDIERs were already more monster than man.

"Your brother and his men must have seen the smoke from their outpost at Rana. They alone marched to defend Jien," her mother said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "He had only five hundred men at his command. Five hundred…against the forces of SOLDIER."

Yumi's nose began to burn. "Why did they fight alone? Why didn't Uncle send more men to aid them?"

Her mother looked away, her eyes brimming. "When word of the massacre at Jien reached your uncle, he decided to surrender. By that time, over three hundred of Haru's men had died."

Yumi rose abruptly from the bench, turning away. Her back was rigid, her hands balled into fists.

"And what of my brother?" she asked slowly, too terrified to look at the expression on her mother's face.

"Missing," her mother replied, after what seemed an eternity of silence. "However, Shiro reported that he was headed north."

Yumi's spine relaxed, her shoulders sagging as she collapsed to the bench.

"Haru…he survived," she exhaled in relief.

Her mother nodded tearfully, embracing her. "And he's coming home."

Later that night, alone in her bedroom, Yumi stood at the window, gazing toward the south. Held close to her heart was the worn red book.

Is it wrong that I should feel so happy when my people are drowning in sorrow?

She thought of the innocent women and children of Jien, who had been treated so mercilessly by SOLDIER. Now Jien was no more than a blackened scar upon the earth, all evidence of its people's suffering erased by the flames. Perhaps that was a mercy, in a way.

Wutai is a fallen nation, she thought sadly. So many men have died pointless deaths. So many others too. And, yet, my heart is light.

She thought of her brother's smiling face, of seeing him stride through the palace gates and never having to fear that he would soon leave again to face the perils of war.

Yes, I am selfish. She bowed her head, her eyes closing softly. But the war is over.

At least now there will be peace.

A/n: Thanks for reading! Please review!