"What are your plans for today? You have the day off, correct?"
         Reeve asked Reno this question as he knotted his tie, preparing for another day as the leader of the World Restoration Organization. It had been five months since Cloud's reunion and during that time, there hadn't been a single incident involving silver-haired men who happened to resemble deceased S-Class SOLDIERs. In the meantime, Rufus bought a house in Edge and tore up the weather-beaten contract—rescued from the remains of the Shinra Building—that bound the Turks to the Shinra Electric Power Company. The Turks were now free agents, and as such, they split their time between jobs for the WRO, ones for Rufus, and those for anyone else who could afford their services. Reno took a sip of coffee and looked up from his paper.
         "My brother should be arriving in Edge today, according to Nanaki. We didn't see much of each other the last time he was in the area."
         "So you're going to meet up with him?"
         "Hopefully. Also, when I ran into Aeris yesterday, she said that she and Marlene might come over sometime today to work on your little rooftop project," Reno said, referring to a small garden that Aeris and Reeve had started a couple of months ago.
         Reeve nodded as he put on his jacket. "Fine with me. Just wish I had the time to join them."
         "You're a busy guy," Reno said. "Can't be helped."
         "I suppose not. Well, I'm off. I'll be out this afternoon for a meeting with Rufus, so contact me via PHS if you need me for any reason."
         "Right. Oh, and don't forget to bring an umbrella. There's a good chance it'll rain today."
         Reeve gave Reno an odd look, then glanced out the nearest window. "Are you certain of that? The sky's completely clear."
         "Yeah. Just call it a hunch."
         "All right…" Reeve said, picking up an umbrella from the stand near the front door. "Have a good day."
         "You too."
         They kissed each other goodbye, then Reeve left. Reno returned to the kitchen, finished both his breakfast and the newspaper article he had been reading, then made his way up to the roof. A row of potted plants stood along one edge, ending at a low, square box filled with soil and containing a few small green sprouts. Reno sat cross-legged opposite of the fledgling garden and closed his eyes, a hand set palm-down atop each knee. A slight breeze whistled past his ears, only to descend to the ground two stories below. As he relaxed his body and listened, the Planet's cacophonous murmur slowly rose up to greet him.

         Serchiro arrived at the house a little before lunchtime, looking every bit as feral as the last time Reno had seen him. "Hey," Reno greeted. Like Serchiro, he was barefoot as he stood in the doorway, but at least he had a shirt on. "Nanaki told me to expect you."
         Serchiro nodded. "Do you have time to talk?"
         "It's my day off, so yeah. Come inside. Oh, and um… don't forget to wipe your feet."
         "Hmph," Serchiro replied, but rubbed his bare feet on the doormat a few times all the same. "Are you home alone?"
         "Yeah. Reeve's gone to work. I'm expecting other guests, but they might not show up for awhile."
         "I see."
         "You just get into town? Can I get you anything?"
         "A glass of water, please."
         Reno led his brother into the kitchen and poured him a glass of water. They sat down at the table, across from each other. The room was silent for a few moments while Serchiro drank from the glass. Finally, he set it down and asked, "You've been well?"
         "Yeah. Yourself?"
         "Yes. I've adjusted to life in the Canyon."
         Reno nodded. He'd heard from Nanaki awhile ago that, when most of the Zango tribe left, Serchiro remained behind. Apparently, his chief thought it would be best for him to be with his own species, at least for a little while. "Where did you live before? Your tribe is called Zango, so does that mean you grew up in the Zango Valley, on the Northern Continent?"
         "Yes, near what your people call the City of the Ancients. We kept ourselves isolated for many years, away from the prying eyes of outsiders."
         "Sounds lonely."
         "I had my tribesmates, so I was never alone."
         Reno nodded and stared down at the table. He wasn't sure where this conversation of theirs was going. Then, all of a sudden, Serchiro said, "Kekipi, about this group you mentioned the first time we met—the one you are a member of."
         "You mean the Turks? What about them?"
         "When I was young, the elders of my tribe told tales of a select group of Cetra whose duty it was to go out in the world and eliminate any potential threats to the Planet's well-being. They were both admired and feared, for they loved this world and were deadly serious about their task. They seemed to have disappeared along with the Cetra themselves, but now that I think about it, they probably just changed and became something else."
         "Wait, are you telling me that—"
         "This group of Cetra was known as the Turks."
         Reno leaned back in his chair and stared into space as he attempted to digest Serchiro's bold statement. For a moment, neither of them said anything; indeed, Reno couldn't think of what to say. However, upon recalling all the strange little traditions of the Turks—the initiation, the group's membership being restricted to three, and so on—it started to make an odd sort of sense, and he wanted to know more. He got up from his chair.
         "I'll be right back. I want to show you something."
         He went upstairs to his personal office and began digging around for the materia knives which had been used to cut the scars beneath his eyes when he was initiated into the Turks, and which had come into his possession once he became the group's leader. As he searched, he heard the doorbell rang. Knowing it was probably Aeris and Marlene, he called down to Serchiro, asking him to open the door. Finally, he found the case with the knives and carried it downstairs, where he set it on the kitchen table before proceeding to the front door. It stood open wide, with Serchiro before it, while Aeris and Marlene stood on the concrete steps outside. Reno waved hello, and the two ladies waved back. Serchiro turned to face Reno. "Are these the guests you have been expecting?"
         "Yeah. Come inside, girls. You can head up to the roof; I'll join you in a sec."
         "Okay. Don't keep us waiting!" Aeris replied with a wink, before leading Marlene inside the house and up the stairs. Once they had gone, Serchiro whispered to Reno, "That young woman with the long hair…"
         "You mean Aeris?"
         "There's something not right about her."
         "That's because she's dead."
         Serchiro stared at Reno. "How…?"
         "She says the Planet needs her here. By the way, she's a Cetra."
         "Yes, she told me, while you were upstairs. I mentioned that she looked like what I always imagined a Cetra to be, according to the stories I was told, and that's when she confirmed her lineage."
         "We should go up to the roof later so we can all hang out. She's a pretty interesting person."
         "Hmm," Serchiro replied, seeming to consider this offer. "All right. Thank you, brother."
         "No problem," said Reno, slightly startled by how Serchiro addressed him. "Anyway, I found those things I wanted to show you. From what I understand, the Turks have had them for a long time. I was hoping you could tell me more about them, and more about your Cetran Turks in genral."
         "Very well."
         Reno nodded and led Serchiro back into the kitchen, where he opened the case. The two glassy green materia knives lay side by side, each of their blades facing a different way. Serchiro stared at them from where he stood. "They're beautiful."
         "One's made of mastered destruct materia, and the other, mastered revive."
         "How does one tell the difference?"
         "No one can. Even as someone who has studied materia, somehow, these two blades were made to look exactly the same."
         "Are these the knives of Eternity and Mortality then?"
         A thin smile crossed Reno's lips. "So you know what they are."
         "I have heard of them, yes. They were created by the Cetran priests shortly after the Crisis."
         "You mean the meteor that brought Jenova to this planet, right?"
         "Yes. Apparently the Turks were formed around that time as well."
         "You said earlier that the Turks were formed to protect the Planet. Did Jenova's arrival have anything to do with it?"
         Before Serchiro could reply, the phone rang. Reno excused himself to answer it.
         "This is Reno."
         "Hey, it's me."
         "Hi, Reeve. What's going on?"
         "Rufus is dead. It looks like suicide."
         Reno paused. Certainly, he hadn't expected to hear Reeve tell him something like this. "W-what?"
         "I'm at his house. Things are a mess right now."
         "I'll be right over." Reno hung up the phone and turned to his brother. "Something's come up. You're free to stick around here with Aeris and Marlene if you want."
         Serchiro replied, "Whatever you think would be best. I have nothing else to do right now."
         "Right. Let me show you to the roof. Gonna need to tell the girls I'm going out anyway."

*****

         His travels had brought him back to the Northern Continent, toward the Forgotten Capital, where he hoped to once again to find peace and solitude. The last time he was here, he rescued Tseng and Elena, and later joined Cloud in fending off the invading Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz, who had taken over the citadel's inner chamber for their own nefarious purposes. He recalled these disruptions as he walked through Coral Valley, wondering what would disturb him next.
         Soon, Vincent finally found himself within the city's borders, the long, winding shell pathways branching out before him. He turned to the right to head for the shell house he normally used for resting, but stopped when he noticed a large, four-legged animal much further down the path. The beast bore a strong resemblance to Nanaki, but with slightly darker fur and a black mane; its flaming tail flinched as Vincent continued to stare at it. After awhile, Vincent took a tentative step forward, and the beast immediately bolted off of the path to parts unknown. Vincent squinted at the animal as it left, then resumed his walk to the shell house. It hadn't changed at all since his last visit. Once inside the main room, he removed his cloak, holster, and boots, then sat down on the furthest bed and began undoing the restraints that held his metal glove in place. Removing the glove, he was relieved to see that his lower left arm appeared as normal as it currently felt. For some reason, whenever he came to this city, and this house, such was always the case.

         A few hours later, Vincent awoke to the sound of soft footfalls padding around the house. Without moving from the bed, he opened his eyes and looked around for some indication of his intruder. Upon noticing a strange glow emanating from deeper inside the building, Vincent carefully slipped off the bed, removed Cerberus from its holster, and crept in the direction of the light.
         "Who's there?" a voice said from the room before him.
         "That's what I want to know," Vincent replied. "Show yourself."
         The glow grew brighter as a large, grayish-brown beast wearing tattoos and an elaborate headdress came before him. "You are Vincent Valentine, correct?" the beast asked.
         Vincent narrowed his eyes at the animal. Considering that he had seen one a lot like it shortly before his nap, he was not as surprised as he would normally be by this sight. "What if I am?"
         "I was told of you and your friends by the young ones of the Cosmo tribe, Nanaki and Kekipi, who you may know better as Red XIII and Reno. I am Makakoa, chief of the Zango tribe of Kapa'a."
         Vincent nodded in acknowledgement. He had several questions to ask this stranger, but thought it best to keep things simple for the time being. "What are you doing here?"
         Makakoa didn't reply, but instead started past Vincent towards the exit. Vincent darted around and blocked the Kapa'a chieftain's path before he could proceed any further.
         "I asked a question, and if you don't mind, I expect an answer."
         Frowning at Vincent, Makakoa replied, "I was told you were once a Turk, back when Shinra was a young company."
         Vincent nodded and turned his hand so that his left palm—which bore one of his initiation scars—faced Makakoa. "Yes, but that was a long time ago. What about it?"
         "Do you have any idea what being a Turk means? What your duty is to the Planet?"
         "If Nanaki did tell you about me, then you shouldn't have to question my loyalty to this world. However, I don't see what that has to do with the Turks."
         "My scouts see you around quite often. You are not a stranger to this house, and yet, you are unaware of the connection? What have you been doing here all this time, if not listening to the Planet and the knowledge stored within this place?"
         Vincent walked back to his bed and sat down. "I have heard voices, sometimes, coming from the glowing pods in these buildings, but I do not understand them."
         Makakoa sat on the floor and bowed his head. "Ah, my apologies. I tend to forget that for outsiders, the Cetran language has long been lost."
         "But not for you?"
         "My people and I have had many decades to learn it, and in the process we have come to know their history through records like the one in this house, which belonged to the first leader of the Turks."
         At first, Vincent said nothing. The Turks were originally Cetra? He stared at Makakoa, wondering if he should trust the beast's words. "If you have the time, could you please tell me about the Turks' history? You've piqued my interest by your claims of the organization's connection to the Cetra."
         "Very well, young one." Makakoa got up again and came to face Vincent. As he sat down, he continued, "But before we begin, I want you to put away every preconceived notion you might have about the Cetran civilization."
         "Eh?"
         "During my tribe's return visit to Cosmo Canyon, we spoke to many of the humans there. It seems that people nowadays hold the Cetra in high regard, when, in many respects, they were no better or worse than the humans of today."
         "What do you mean?"
         "When you get an opportunity, ask the gods who share your body," Makakoa replied, his eyes alighting on Vincent's exposed left hand. Vincent himself took a look at it, and found that it had turned a brackish shade of purple. Without saying another word, he reached for his metal glove and began to slip it back on as Makakoa settled in and began his story.

*****

         Reeve stood off to one side inside Rufus' home office and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Rufus himself was partially covered in the old sheet from his geostigma days—now stained with large red splotches—but even so, Reeve could not bear to look at the body. The weapon, a pistol that, according to Rude, Rufus had always kept concealed inside his coat, was still in the latter's right hand.
         It had happened while Rude, who had been hired as a bodyguard, left the house to conduct an errand at Rufus' request. Angela had an appointment at the time, so once Rude went out, Rufus was alone; the Turk found the body shortly before Reeve's arrival.
         Rude told Reeve that Rufus had seemed depressed lately, but was trying to hide it. Certainly, Reeve knew very well that Rufus had had a rough time of it ever since awakening from his coma, but he had believed that his former friend was a tougher person than that. Another thing that bothered him was how Rufus had chosen to kill himself. From what it looked like, Rufus shoved his gun in his mouth before pulling the trigger, resulting in half of his head being blown apart. Although the use of a pistol didn't surprise him in the least, Reeve was troubled by Rufus' uncharacteristic lack of concern for his own corpse's appearance.
         "Yeah, the way he flipped his hair all the time, you'd think that, once the time came, he'd want to be the best looking stiff around."
         Reeve was no longer in the office, but in Gongaga—the small town from his childhood, not the one left suffering after its mako reactor exploded. This wasn't the first time he had a vision like this; they would happen randomly ever since he stopped seeing that wolf hanging around.
         "You've met him?" he asked the speaker, a SOLDIER with spiky black hair walking a little ways ahead of him. The Buster sword was slung across his back; its sharp, reflective edge was nearly blinding in the bright light.
         "Nah, just saw him a couple times at official functions. Dude seemed like the shallowest person ever. Pretty boy all the way."
         Reeve didn't reply, but simply continued following the SOLDIER.
         "Not that I'm in a position to judge him. Even with people like that, things are never what they seem—right up 'till the very end." The SOLDIER turned to smirk at Reeve; his face seemed oddly familiar for some reason. "Know what I mean?"
         "Reeve? You okay?"
         "Oh." Reeve found himself back in Rufus' house. He turned in the direction of the voice to see Reno. "I'm sorry. I was just… staring into space. When did you get here?"
         "Just now," Reno replied, giving him an odd look. He approached the wheelchair. "He's under there?"
         "Yeah," Rude replied. "All evidence points to a self-inflicted gunshot to the head."
         "That so…" Reno said, tilting his head slightly and staring at the corpse. He continued standing like that as Reeve said, "We left a message on Tseng's voice mail, and called Elena in Costa del Sol. We also talked to Angela, but she didn't want to come back here and said she would go home after her appointment. Can't say I blame her."
         Suddenly, Reno dropped to his knees and placed his hands flat on the floor. He slowly lowered his head until his ear was pressed to the hardwood. At first, Reeve found himself startled by these actions, then realized that they reminded him of something that he'd heard Aeris had done at the Temple of the Ancients two and a half years ago, while they were all on that journey to stop Sephiroth. Is Reno—
         "What?" Reno suddenly exclaimed from his position. "Fuck!"
         "W-what is it?" replied an apparently startled Rude.
         Reno sat up on his knees again. "Rufus didn't kill himself. He was murdered."
         "By whom?" Reeve asked.
         "That's the worst part: it was two people with whitish-grey hair, both dressed in black."
         Rude said, "How can you be sure? There were no witnesses."
         "Wrong. There's always a witness."
         "The Planet," Reeve guessed. "You've learned how to listen to it?"
         "Yeah. Re-learned, actually, but I'm not very good. Might want to get Aeris over here for a second opinion. In fact, I suggest we do that right now, since she should be able to find out more." Reno stared at the still, covered form of Rufus. Outside, a loud crack of thunder sounded, which was soon followed by the pounding of rain. "If these two are more corrupted S-Classes, we need to track 'em down as soon as possible."