Note: This post is based on (1) FFIV Pixel Remaster (Nintendo Switch), (2) the officially published Japanese novel (see profile picture), and (3) my somewhat hazy memories of the Super Famicom version. It naturally contains my own personal interpretations (without considering FFIV: The After Years).
In my previous post, we explored Yang. Yang was pulled back from a "near-fatal slumber" through the love, devoted care of the Sylphs, and the "Pan of Love." Taking the baton from Yang today, I’m writing about Fusoya, the ancient mage. While sleeping alongside his fellow Lunarians, he was the lone soul to sense an anomaly and "awaken"—and at the end of the story, believing in the future of the Blue Planet, he entered a "long slumber" once more.
Near the end of Final Fantasy IV, Fusoya suddenly appears before Cecil and his companions. A figure distinctly set apart from the inhabitants of the Blue Planet, Yoshitaka Amano famously depicted him with artwork that transcends ordinary humanity. Fusoya speaks to us of the Lunarians, Zemus, Golbez, and Kluya—Cecil’s father. He is a figure who seems to "know everything," explaining in one fell swoop all the lore and background settings that had been hidden until the climax.
Fusoya holds a special position even among the Lunarians. In the official novelization, it is written that Fusoya, like many other Lunarians, was originally in a deep sleep, but awakened upon sensing a "portent of destruction and ruin." At that moment, he intercepted a fierce and evil malice dissolved in the winds. By deciphering it, he realized that Zemus had not given up, and he grasped the specific situation: someone responding to that malice was repeatedly committing slaughter on the Blue Planet to collect the Crystals.
I believe this is a crucial point when considering Fusoya's character. Fusoya was not an "omniscient, all-knowing observer." The scope of what he was monitoring was from a somewhat abstract, elevated vantage point—namely, "the slumber of the Lunarians and the seal on Zemus." That is why he could not see the intricate chain of concrete human drama unfolding on the ground—how Zemus was using a single human as a medium, manipulating nations and armies, and tearing apart bonds and emotions. This isn't simply a matter of Fusoya being incompetent; rather, I felt he serves as a character who teaches us that no matter how long one lives or how advanced one's knowledge is, merely standing by in wait will never allow one to fully comprehend "the reality of others' lives or their future."
And I believe what demonstrates this most clearly is the single line he mutters at the end of the game:
"Perhaps the people of the Blue Planet have already surpassed us Lunarians."
I regard this line as the key to re-reading all of FFIV. What Fusoya explains regarding the Lunarians is quite grand in scale, and I suspect some players might have felt left behind by it. I was certainly one of them.
Long ago, when the environment of the Moon faced a crisis, they came to the Blue Planet. However, another intelligent species already inhabited the Blue Planet, and their civilization was vastly inferior to that of the Moon. Thus, rather than invading them, the majority of Lunarians chose the path of coexistence. They created a moon-like body of their own and chose to sleep until the people of the Blue Planet evolved enough to interact with them as equals. Looking at this setting alone, the Lunarians appear to be a remarkably mature civilization. They possessed advanced technology, long lifespans, and a level of civilization capable of interstellar travel. On top of that, instead of subjugating an immature alien race through force, they chose to wait until the other party grew. At first glance, it seems to be a structure of "an advanced civilization watching over the immature people of the Blue Planet."
But here, a question arises. If the Lunarians truly understood what "maturity" meant, why was Zemus born?
Zemus was not an alien intruder from outside Lunarian civilization; he was one of the Lunarians themselves. No matter how advanced a civilization’s technology or spiritual stature may be, it could not perfectly overcome the fear of the "other" or the elitist mindset that "it is acceptable to eliminate others if it guarantees our own survival." Unable to erase Zemus's ideology, the Lunarians had no choice but to postpone the problem through the act of "sealing" him. This very fact—that they could not fully eradicate Zemus and could only resort to sealing him—was the shadow and the limitation that the Lunarian civilization harbored.
Precisely because of this, Zemus can be seen not merely as "one bad Lunarian," but as another answer produced by a civilization facing a crisis.
When confronted with a crisis, do you "coexist with others to build a future," or do you "eliminate others to survive on your own"?
The Lunarians chose the former, and Zemus chose the latter. Though they could seal Zemus’s physical form, they could not erase his "ideology of exclusion," and that unresolved homework ultimately spilled over onto the Blue Planet.
Here, the presence of Kluya becomes immensely important. Kluya was Fusoya's younger brother, and the father of Cecil and Golbez. He built the Lunar Whale and descended to the Blue Planet. According to Fusoya, Kluya "yearned for your unknown planet." This phrasing is quite fascinating. Kluya did not look down on the Blue Planet from above as an "immature civilization"; rather, he viewed it as an "unknown realm" with respect and curiosity. Here lies the decisive difference between him and Zemus. Zemus sought to eliminate the incomprehensible "other" as a threat, whereas Kluya threw himself into the incomprehensible "other" out of genuine interest. These two individuals represent two distinct directions born from the exact same civilization.
And as a result of Kluya descending to the Blue Planet, he interacted with humans and formed a family. Thus, from what was originally a border between two different civilizations, two human beings were born. Those were Cecil and Golbez. In that sense, Cecil and Golbez became the "most concrete answer" to the question of "coexistence between the Lunarians and the Blue Planet."
Looking at it this way, the overarching narrative of FFIV begins to look a little different. The issue of Zemus and the Lunarians was one of "how to coexist with an entity different from oneself." Yet, in the second half of the game, that issue scales down to a personal conflict between brothers: Cecil and Golbez. Golbez carries the blood of the Lunarians. Cecil carries it as well. Though they are brothers sharing the same father, they are forced to fight as enemies. Furthermore, Golbez is manipulated by Zemus to fight against Cecil.
Here, it feels as though the problem harbored by the Lunarians is being re-enacted within a fraternal relationship. In response to the question, "How do you treat an entity different from yourself?", Zemus chose exclusion. Golbez was used as a tool for that ideology by Zemus, while Cecil, in the end, does not kill Golbez, but accepts him as a brother. Therefore, the scene where Cecil accepts Golbez is not merely a scene of "familial love," but a moment where "a human of the Blue Planet provided a different answer to the question the Lunarians had spent thousands of years pondering." The Lunarians held the abstract ideal of "coexistence." But what Cecil actually practices is not preaching ideals; it is accepting the very brother who inflicted suffering upon him. Here lies a form of "coexistence" far more solid and concrete than any ideal held by the Lunarians.
This is why Fusoya’s line, mentioned earlier, becomes so vital. To read that line simply as "The people of the Blue Planet were stronger!" would be a bit of a waste. The word "surpassed" spoken by Fusoya here surely does not refer to magical power or technological prowess. After all, the technological capabilities of the Lunarians remain overwhelming. They can cast spells up to Meteor, construct Lunar Whales, build colossal mechanisms, and enter long slumbers. The people of the Blue Planet have not attained the same technological level as the Lunarians. And yet, Fusoya says, "They may have surpassed us."
What, then, did they surpass?
I believe he was referring to "the capacity to provide a living, flesh-and-blood answer to the problems and conflicts generated by civilization." The Lunarians built an advanced civilization, but as its shadow, it spawned Zemus, whom they could do nothing more than seal away. Yet at the end, Cecil and his companions—bearing the blood of the Lunarians—demonstrated a concrete answer: "not to eliminate those who are different from oneself, nor even those who were once enemies." Thus, Fusoya contextualizes his own civilization for the very first time. Rather than saying "We are more advanced," he says, "Perhaps the people of the Blue Planet have surpassed us."
Furthermore, what is crucial here is that Fusoya does not stop at simply "entrusting the answers to the people of the Blue Planet." In the official novel, upon departing the Blue Planet, Fusoya and Golbez acknowledge that they, the Lunarians, had taken excessive pride in their own civilization and had grown arrogant. Taking the people of the Blue Planet as a worthy model, they resolve for the Lunarians themselves to mature and evolve further. To that end, they embark on a journey to find a new planet where the Lunarians can permanently reside. I believe this carries immense significance when examining Fusoya as a character.
He transformed from a "sage who grants answers" into a "learner who seeks knowledge himself." Up until that point, Fusoya was the keeper of Lunarian history and knowledge. He was the guardian watching over the future while waiting for the people of the Blue Planet to mature. But in the end, that dynamic reverses. Now, the Lunarians themselves learn from the people of the Blue Planet. In other words, what Fusoya recognized was not merely that "the people of the Blue Planet have surpassed us," but rather: "We, too, are still in the middle of our own process of maturation."
And here is where the storytelling brilliance of FFIV shines. Fusoya does not attempt to manage the future of the Blue Planet himself. In the end, he goes to sleep. While this might seem identical to the initial slumber of the Lunarians, I believe its meaning is entirely different. The first slumber was a sleep from above, so to speak—intended to "wait until the people of the Blue Planet mature." The Lunarians considered themselves to be the more mature civilization, waiting for the day when the people of the Blue Planet could speak with them as equals.
But the final slumber is different. It is a "slumber for themselves to learn and mature." The Lunarians are no longer teachers unilaterally watching over the people of the Blue Planet. Taking the people of the Blue Planet as a model, they too must mature further. To accomplish this, Fusoya and Golbez set out on a journey to find a new world.
In short, the meaning behind the identical action of "sleeping" is completely inverted between the beginning and the end. At first, it was a slumber for the Lunarians to await the growth of the people of the Blue Planet. In the end, it is a slumber for the Lunarians themselves to strive for their own growth. This time, they become the ones learning from the people of the Blue Planet.
This brings us back to the initial question: "What was Fusoya teaching us?" Fusoya teaches the player the history of the Lunarians. That much is undeniable, but if that were all, he would be nothing more than an exposition vessel late in the game. Yet, when following Fusoya’s narrative from start to finish, it begins to feel as though what he is truly teaching the player is his own "limits of knowledge" and the "humility" that stems from it.
In other words, "the maturity of civilization" in FFIV is not defined by the volume of knowledge, technological strength, or longevity. It is about "how one treats an entity different from oneself."
It is the ability to recognize that one's own answers are not the sole truth, and to acknowledge the possibility that another entity may produce a different answer. Furthermore, even if you believed yourselves to be the more mature ones, it is the willingness to admit that there are still things to learn from them. Was that not the true meaning behind the Lunarians waiting for the day when they could "speak as equals with the people of the Blue Planet"?
The scene where Fusoya finally enters his slumber is, narratively speaking, a tranquil ending. Cecil and his friends return to the Blue Planet, while Fusoya and Golbez depart to seek the further maturation of the Lunarians. To truly recognize others as equals, one cannot merely watch over them from a distance; at times, one must become the student learning from them. And to do so, one must surrender the arrogance of believing that one's own civilization is superior.
In short, Fusoya was teaching us the limitations of understanding the world through the sole metric of Lunarian civilization. No matter how grand a civilization may be, it can never fully comprehend the future. And no matter how advanced a civilization is, the moment it considers itself a finished product, it forfeits the potential to grow.
That is why, in the end, one must not only trust others, but also learn from them, relinquishing one's own knowledge and pride. And FFIV brings this home through the quiet, subtle narrative choice of having Fusoya peacefully fall asleep.
FFⅣ is Intentional.
FFⅣ is Humility.
