This is my interpretation of the story of Braska, Jecht and Auron's pilgrimage ten years before the events of Final Fantasy X. I'm sure this has been done before, but I swear I have not read a single story like that and any similarities are purely coincidental (great minds think alike!). Some of the scenes, of course, you will recognize from FFX. I would also like to point out that the story is designed to be a game, and was even originally written in script form, so the narration is rather minimal and the story progresses fast. Descriptions of things such as boss battles, blitzball games and minigames are not included, and there are also a couple of mutually alternative scenes in the story, depending on how the 'player' has played the 'game'. Following the tradition of both FFX and FFX-2, some first-person narration is also included.
I have already finished the 12 chapters in script form, and will be turning them all into prose whenever I find the time.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading!
occasionee
A Hero's Sacrifice
Chapter 1
The little boy walked towards the blitzball, slowly and focusedly. He had been practicing this shot for months. Nothing could ruin it now. Anyone could do it if they tried. He knew that. And he'd prove that.
Now at an ideal distance from the ball, the boy stretched his leg backwards and prepared to shoot the ball into the sky. Just before his tiny foot touched its surface, something in the corner of his eye made him lose his concentration, and he fell over on his back, the ball still unmoved.
The tall, muscular man walked over.
"Well, well, trying to follow in my footsteps, are you? I usually charge for lessons, you know…"
The little boy stood up quickly, pretending not to pay attention. The man stopped before the ball, at the exact same distance as the boy had.
"That shot is done… like this!"
The man leaped high into the air with the ball, performing his famous Sublimely Magnificent Jecht Shot Mark III. The boy looked away the whole time, not wanting to see something he knew well enough to perform himself. Jecht finished the shot by kicking the ball far off into the distance, then landing next to his son.
"You can't do it, kid. But don't worry, my boy. You're not the only one. No one else can do it. I'm the best!"
"Dear! We're going to be late!" a woman's voice shouted from afar. Both Jecht and his son looked up, seeing a beautiful young woman waving to her husband from the dock.
"Be right there!" Jecht shouted back. He marched past the boy, then stopped.
"Better not be crying when I come back."
The boy's bitter glare followed Jecht as he walked off to meet his wife. He lowered his eyes, clenching his tiny fists.
"…I hate you."
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Jecht and his wife Dalia walked along the nocturnal streets of Zanarkand, headed for the Grand Blitzball Stadium for the quarter-final match of the Sphere Cup. Jecht gave a jocular reply to his wife's worried question why their son had stayed at home.
"What? Why wouldn't he want to see his own father's game?"
"It's his latest thing, not coming to the matches. Says he'd rather spend the time on 'training'. Hah! He only skips my games, though. Thinks I haven't noticed."
Dalia lowered her eyes.
"Jecht… I'm worried. He seems to detest you. Despise you."
"Despise me? That's rubbish. He's just jealous. Wants to surpass his famous daddy. Hah! Like that'll happen in a million years."
Dalia laughed, unable to pinpoint what was so funny about her husband's reply.
"I guess you're right."
"But he is my son, you know. He'll make a worthy successor someday. I just wish he'd get his act together and stop crying."
"Oh, Jecht…"
"But forget about that brat," Jecht said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "tonight is for us!"
Dalia attempted a smile.
"Jecht… I really think you should start attending the match-up draws again. And the practices, and the strategy meetings, too. Blitzball is a team sport, after all."
"Practices? Strategy meetings? Star players don't need none of those! The kids are free to use any damn strategy they want, long as they don't get in my way. Hahahahahahaha!"
Dalia hesitantly joined the laughter.
"I know… I know, dear. You're right, you don't need to go if you don't want to."
After a moment's pause, she continued, "But, but I really wish you would…"
"So, you feel like going celebrating after the game?" Jecht cut her off, hiccupping. "I might've taken a little head start."
"…cut down your drinking," Dalia silently finished her sentence.
"Heh? You say something?"
"…No. It's nothing."
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The sphere pool preparations were in full swing when the two of them arrived, and the whole stadium was cheering at the top of their voices. Fans immediately surrounded Jecht, but he paid little attention to them, searching for a familiar face among the crowds.
"Hey, Zaleth!" Jecht greeted as he finally spotted him.
A middle-aged man turned around, a boy of about seven to ten years by his side.
"Jecht," he greeted, adding amusedly, "I see you skipped the match-up draws again."
"What'd they need me there for? And who cares about the result? I can't even tell the rival teams apart!"
"So far below your skill?" Zaleth asked laughing.
"Damn straight!" Jecht exclaimed, then noticing the little boy. "So, who's this little shrimp? Your son?"
"Yes, this is Zanar. He's been itching to meet you for ages now."
Zaleth laid his hand on his son's shoulder.
"Aren't you gonna say a word to your hero?"
Zanar shyly raised his eyes.
"I… it's an honour, sir! Y… you're the best!"
Jecht snorted in approval.
"Our kids get switched at birth or what, eh?"
Zanar laughed.
"That's a possibility."
He then leaned towards Jecht to whisper in his ear, "Might just be my imagination, but I think he's been trying to run away from home lately."
Jecht grunted.
"Tidus would never have the guts. He's such a little crybaby," he gestured towards Dalia, "always depending on his mommy. Anyway, the game's starting, I gotta go."
Jecht leaned towards Dalia to smooch a kiss on her cheek before leaving. Zaleth couldn't help but notice that Dalia tilted away a little, and as Jecht was gone on his way, he asked, "Has he been drinking again?"
Dalia nodded, sighing. Zaleth laughed heartily.
"Leave it to the star of the Zanarkand Abes to ace the match tight as a tick!"
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With the sphere pool set up, the players swam in one by one. The sportscaster sat behind his microphone and opened the match, "It is my pleasure to welcome you all to the quarter-finals of this year's Sphere Cup! Tonight, the Zanarkand Duggles will face the – so far undefeated – Zanarkand Abes! It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that their winning streak has been all due to just one man – ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jecht!"
The cheers became twice as loud as Jecht swam into the pool. Visibly enjoying this, the star player drew sour glares from his teammates. The players proceeded to take their positions, and the match was ready to begin.
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"And the Abes take a glorious and, dare I say, unsurprising victory!" the sportscaster rejoiced. "Once again, we can hardly downplay the role of Jecht, the leading light of the team! Of course, superb play from his teammates and the Duggles as well!"
Jecht grunted in approval as the audience cheered, jumping off their seats at the Abes' victory. His teammates, however, seemed hardly any better pleased than the defeated Duggles.
"Guess we lost another match to the wonder that is Jecht," an Abe sighed to a nearby Duggle.
"I feel for you, man."
OR
"Well, well, well! Looks like the Duggles got lucky this time! Did I see some blatant holding back on Jecht's part there? Come on, ace, your team depends on you!"
Jecht harrumphed as the audience cried in disappointment. His teammates seemed to take the defeat extraordinarily well, however.
"Congratulations," an Abe said to a nearby Duggle.
"Gee, thanks!"
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After the game, Jecht and Dalia wandered into the heart of the City that Never Sleeps. Jecht was in high spirits, half drunken on alcohol, half drunken on their victory.
"And once again, one name rises above the rest: Jecht! Ghahahahahaha!"
OR
After the game, Jecht and Dalia wandered into the heart of the City that Never Sleeps. Jecht was bashing the opposite team as well as his teammates loud enough for the entire metropolis to hear, and Dalia was trying to hide her embarrassment the best she could.
"Holding back? Hah! More like my team was holding me back!"
Dalia let out a deep sigh. Jecht turned to look at her, but she looked away.
"Aaaanyway… wanna go grab a drink or two?"
"Ah, I… Jecht, I really think you should…"
Dalia was cut short when a jolly group of men appeared from behind them, one of them slamming Jecht on the back.
"We'll race you to the bar, champ!" Zaleth challenged, no longer accompanied by his son.
"The bunch of you?" Jecht laughed.
"You scared?" another man teased.
"Are you?" Jecht shot back, sprinting after them.
Dalia reached out after the laughing men, but then withdrew her hand. Her troubled expression slowly broke into a tentative smile.
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Later that night, Jecht sat at the bar counter with Dalia, Zaleth and his friends. The men burst into laughter at something that was said, and even Dalia seemed to have eased up a little. Jecht rose from the stool with a totter.
"So I says to him," Jecht slurred, "'You need proof? I'll give you proof!' So I grab the ball and…"
Jecht almost fell over as he prepared to kick an imaginary blitzball, much to the amusement of his friends. As he was getting up, his eyes suddenly fell on a tiny dark figure behind the window.
"Tidus?"
The boy answered his incredulous look with a glare, then abruptly ran off.
"Hey!"
Jecht strode out of the bar as steadily as he could. His drinking buddies didn't notice, but Dalia glanced over their heads with a worried expression.
Outside, Jecht watched as his son vanished into the night, his little feet sprinting as fast as they could.
"Hey! Get back here, runt!"
Dalia emerged from the bar and placed her hands on Jecht's shoulders.
"Was the trying to…" Jecht said audibly, then mumbling to himself, "run away from home?"
"Jecht?"
Jecht ignored his wife, gazing intently ahead.
"He went back home, right? Our house is that way," he tried to shake off his drunkenness in frustration, "right?"
"Jecht, what are you talking about?"
Jecht shook her hands off his shoulders and ran after his son with a loud grunt.
"Jecht!" Dalia cried, watching him run off. "You can barely stand straight on your feet…"
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Jecht found his son standing on the deck of their boat house, gazing off across the sea.
"What the hell were you doing back there, you little punk?"
Getting no response, Jecht walked closer and raised his voice, "Hey!"
After a while of silence, Tidus mumbled barely audibly, "They say you don't practice anymore."
"What?"
"They say you don't practice anymore, that you're gonna retire."
"Let them talk," Jecht shot amusedly. "I'm still the best."
"They say you're no good 'cause you drink all the time."
"I can quit drinkin' whenever I want!"
Tidus turned to face him.
"Then do it now!"
"What did you say?"
"You just said you can!" Tidus spluttered.
"Heh. Tomorrow, maybe."
"Why not today?" Tidus demanded.
"Why do today what you can leave for tomorrow?"
Hearing this, Tidus turned away from his father, whimpering quietly.
"There he goes again… crying!"
With this, Jecht protestingly retired inside. Dalia, having just caught up with her husband, leaped on the boat and followed in his wake.
"Dear!"
Wiping his tears, Tidus glared after his parents.
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In the morning, a groggy Jecht woke up on his bed, his blanket half-covering him, with Dalia sleeping by his side. He slowly got up and proceeded to head outside, holding his head in pain and anger.
He again found his son on the deck, approaching the blitzball in the same manner as the previous night. Just as he was about to kick it, Jecht grabbed the ball, making his son fall over once again.
"Hah! It's not like I need to prove myself to pipsqueaks like you… but fine! You want Daddy to practice? Alright, then Daddy shall practice!"
He turned away, throwing the ball from one hand to another.
"Don't expect me back before dark."
Tidus glowered after his father as he leaped to the dock. Just before he disappeared into the morning fog, Dalia emerged from the inside to see him leave.
"Where'd he go?"
Tidus grunted. "…Guess he ran off on us again."
"What? He went out to the coast again?"
"...That's what I said."
Dalia sighed in worry and disappointment.
"Why won't he listen to me? It's dangerous out there…"
Tidus turned away to make towards the door, but his mother remained gazing after her vanished husband.
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Jecht marched through the city with an aggressive pace. Images of Tidus' scornful glares, Dalia's concerned looks, his teammates' bitter glowers and Zaleth and his friends' laughing faces ran though his mind.
I still don't know what got into me back there, but I needed to get away. Not so much from my wife and son, but from the world I was living in. From the so-called life I was leading.
Heh. Be careful what you wish for, huh?
Finally, he arrived at the quiet coast of Zanarkand, idly kicking the ball around.
Not that I realized it then. There I was, casually blitzing just for the goddamn heck of it. That's what I kept telling myself.
He kicked the ball high into the air with his knee, catching it on the back of his neck and letting it slide down his back.
And that's… when it happened.
Suddenly an enormous dark gray shape obscured the horizon, darkening the sky as it drew nearer. Jecht raised his eyes and forgot to mind the blitzball, and it hit him in the head.
"Ow!"
He then looked up again.
"The heck is that…?"
A storm appeared to arise as the mysterious form swam closer, slowly taking the shape of a giant, whale-like creature. The creature wailed loudly in a shrieky, penetrating voice. Jecht stared at its monstrous form, well nervous by now.
"Hey, this ain't funny. What the hell's going on?"
Now that I could hardly put down to a really bad hangover.
Then, slowly, the creature opened its mouth, creating a strong, raging wind around itself. It soon reached the petrified Jecht, who couldn't hope to resist its wildly slowing power.
"Hey! I refuse to get sucked into your… whoaaaargghh!"
The hurricane-like wind tore Jecht from the ground and sucked him into the monster, which had now taken a curious shape. Everything soon became a blur, and Jecht disappeared into the rampaging storm.
A really bad bender maybe.