headcanons.

[tson]

( These are headcanons I have written down to fill the (often large) gaps of Tseng’s backstory, which influence my portrayal of him. )

The Price of Progress (Tseng’s early childhood)
Tseng’s earliest memories are an intermingling of Wutai’s traditions and Midgar’s steel. His parents left their homeland behind before he could form words to describe it, seeking opportunity in the growing metropolis that Shinra built. They become part of the great machine—workers in the mako reactors that power the city and the corporation alike. For a time, their lives seem stable. Young Tseng, thanks to his parents’ employment status, attends Shinra-sponsored schools, where his sharp intellect and composed demeanor are fostered. Though his parents carry the weight of long shifts and polluted air, they find pride in their son’s potential, their hopes pinned on the future Shinra provides.

But Midgar is cruel to its dreamers. When Tseng only just enters adolescence, his parents—overworked and exposed to mako fumes daily—succumb to illness in quick succession. Their deaths leave him untethered, with no family to catch him. Though orphaned, Tseng is not forgotten. Shinra took notice of him long before grief came to his young face. His potential hasn’t gone unnoticed in the rigid structures of his education. The company has plans for promising young men like him.

The Making of a Turk (Tseng joins the Turks)
The Turks approach him. Under their guidance, Tseng is given training far beyond what his peers could dream of. He learns precision, strategy, and ruthlessness. By the time he is 14, Tseng is no longer a child but a weapon, sent into the field to carry out missions that demand both cold calculation and unwavering loyalty.

During this time, Veld, the Turks’ stoic and calculating leader, becomes more than a superior to Tseng. He is a beacon of authority and strength, and the father figure Tseng desperately needs in his fractured youth. Veld’s mentorship is stern but steady, teaching Tseng to navigate the dangerous currents of Shinra’s politics and missions. Tseng reveres him, modeling himself after Veld’s staunch demeanor and quiet charisma.

In the years that follow, Tseng grows into a man of precision and dedication, even though a lot remains for him to learn in the line of the Turks’ work. His dedication to Shinra is unshakable, but perhaps it is more than duty—a way to honor the sacrifices his parents made, and to uphold the faith of the man who believed in him when he was just a grieving boy.

A Hidden Voice (Tseng’s heritage, Pt. 1)
Tseng’s identity as a child of Wutai*-born parents raised in the industrial sprawl of Midgar is one he carries like a double-edged sword. His parents, proud of their heritage, ensured he understood the traditions of their homeland, even as they toiled to adapt to life on the plate.

Language was a lifeline. His parents spoke to him in their native tongue, and though Midgar schools pushed Basic heavily, they insisted he be fluent in Wutainese. His mother would teach him poetry, and his father shared idioms and stories, reminding him that language is more than words, a way of thinking, a connection to something larger than himself.

Lines in the Sand (Tseng’s heritage, Pt. 2)
Tseng’s features mark him as foreign in a city dominated by Shinra’s increasingly homogenized vision of progress. The building tension with—and, eventually, war against—Wutai is a drumbeat in the background of his childhood. Some people were kind, acknowledging his intellect and discipline. Others seemed to scrutinize him more harshly just because of his origin. These experiences leave Tseng with a complicated relationship to his heritage. He cherishes the pieces of Wutai his parents passed down, but quickly learns to downplay them in public. He speaks Basic with precise clarity, careful to erase any hint of an accent. His Wutaian name, shortened and simplified for Midgar’s convenience, becomes another way to blend in.

When his parents die, their cultural touchstones become even more precious to him, but in their absence Tseng also finds himself pulled further into Shinra’s orbit. The company had given his family opportunity, and now it gives him purpose. All the while, the budding war with Wutai adds another layer of complexity to his sense of self. The propaganda paints Wutai as backward and obstinate, and as Shinra escalates the conflict, Tseng faces a choice: align himself fully with the world he has grown up in, or risk being seen as an outsider in both cultures.

As a Turk, Tseng’s heritage becomes an asset Shinra can’t ignore. His fluency in the language and understanding of its customs make him invaluable for intelligence work. He could navigate negotiations, decipher coded communications, and blend into settings where others would stand out. To compensate further, Tseng becomes Shinra’s model of loyalty. His work is meticulous, his faith in the company unshakable—at least outwardly. He wears his professionalism like armor, a visible showcase of his dedication to the city and corporation that have raised him. To his colleagues, he is the embodiment of what it means to serve Shinra: efficient, loyal, and unflinching. This duality makes Tseng a singular figure within the Turks. He understands what it means to belong everywhere and nowhere, a perspective that sharpens his instincts and deepens his resolve.

The Space Between Wor(l)ds (Tseng’s heritage, Pt. 2.1 – Language)
Tseng’s fluency in Wutainese, once effortless in his childhood, has become something more nuanced over the years. As Shinra consumed more of his life, Basic took precedence. From school to his rigorous training as a Turk, nearly every aspect of his day demanded sharp, efficient communication in Midgar’s dominant tongue. Over time, Wutainese receded to the background—a skill he would call upon when needed, but no longer a daily practice.

Now, while he still speaks with fluid confidence, there are gaps. Everyday conversation and cultural phrases come easily, his childhood grounding serving him well. Yet when it comes to more specialized or technical vocabulary, particularly in the context of his work as a Turk, he finds himself hesitating. Words tied to military jargon, advanced technology, or politics sometimes elude him, sending him to a dictionary.

*Wutai, as a stand in for the other unnamed regions of the westernmost continent.

Navigating Ambiguity (Tseng’s ‘Tao’)
While his parents rarely spoke of the principles they lived by directly, Tseng absorbed their lessons in small, meaningful moments. The central tenet of this belief is the coexistence and interdependence of opposites, later finds its parallel in reality in Tseng’s work with the Turks. He justifies his work by viewing Shinra’s actions as part of the greater flow of history.

Both destruction and creation are necessary parts of existence, just as his missions sometimes involve acts that preserve stability at the cost of individual harm. Good and evil are not absolute; what is “right” depends on context and perspective. Acts that may appear dark serve a larger, albeit unseen, order. His belief does not advocate abandoning ethical consideration but encourages one to understand the broader picture and act in harmony with it. By accepting this complexity, Tseng avoids the paralysis of overanalyzing morality in a profession that demands quick decisions.

Another such principle manifests in Tseng’s leadership style, as trust in his team’s abilities rather than micromanaging. “Effortless action” sees that the best outcomes arise when one aligns with the natural flow of events rather than forcing an outcome. This philosophy is particularly suited to espionage and diplomacy, where brute force is less effective than careful observation and precise timing.

His attempt to save Zack Fair’s life is, to Tseng, proof of the disastrous result when he tries to go against the natural “flows” at play:

• Zack was a high-priority target and Shinra’s military force was vast and coordinated
• Zack’s path to freedom was riddled with tension, resistance, and enemies
• Zack was a fiercely independent SOLDIER and would resist being "saved" if it meant surrendering his agency.

Tseng’s decision, while well-intentioned, required him to work against these powerful currents. He had to navigate the bureaucracy and secrecy of Shinra, attempt to manipulate events from within, and try to convince others—possibly even Zack—to follow a path that was not naturally unfolding. To Tseng, that is the reason why, despite his efforts, his intervention ultimately failed.

Zack, Veld and Aerith
Tseng’s attempt to save Zack is a deeply personal endeavor, a rare moment—a long time since—where he allows his own sense of morality, and fear of a guilty conscience, to push against Shinra’s will. Being the newly made leader of all the Turks—following Veld’s disappearance—awards him with more influence, but it also teaches him the harsh limits of his power within Shinra’s system.

When Veld becomes a target of Shinra, next, Tseng’s loyalty to the Turks compels him to act. Unlike Zack’s situation, Tseng has the full support of his team and a shared mission to save their former Chief. However, the rescue comes at a cost, putting the other Turks in grave danger. Although Veld is ultimately saved, the outcome scars Tseng. The danger to his team weighs heavily on him; their loyalty to him had meant they were willing to risk everything, and Tseng can’t ignore the responsibility he bears for their peril. After only just slipping the noose from around his, Reno’s and Rude’s necks, he is more hesitant to take risks that could jeopardize those under his care.

Rescuing Zack is Tseng’s first deliberate move against Shinra, and it ends in brutal failure. Rescuing Veld results in the three remaining Turks handing their lives over to Rufus Shinra—Tseng, as their leader, can now do little to protect his Turks.

By the time he stands facing the decision to bring Aerith in for good, his earlier failures have created a wall of caution around his actions. Tseng’s connection with Aerith is different to Zack, to Veld; she is someone innocent yet pivotal to Shinra’s ambitions. After 15 years of protecting her, he clearly cares for her in a way that extends beyond duty. Tseng might have considered helping Aerith escape Shinra entirely, knowing the weight of her importance both to the company and to the Planet. But the lessons of the past—Zack’s tragic fate and the near-catastrophic cost of saving Veld—hold him back. He fears the consequences of another rescue attempt, especially one that could put Aerith or the Turks in greater danger. Instead, Tseng rationalizes his inaction by telling himself it’s not the right time, that Shinra’s control over her is too strong, and that acting now would only make things worse. After the Temple, his past failures make him question whether inaction was truly wisdom—or cowardice.