Age 7

Mommy was dying. She'd given up, after Dad left. When they never found him, and people began whispering that maybe it was a drunken accident, she took to her bed and didn't leave anymore. Not even for her son. The house was not touched, waiting for the day Mommy went away and Tidus would be ready to move back in. In the meanwhile, as his parents hadn't left any family to fall back on (all Dad's relatives were dead, and no one in Mommy's family could stand Dad), he stayed with the old neighbor lady next door. She was kind enough, and motherly enough, but that 'enough' wasn't enough to keep him from crying.

Even so, she gave him more attention than Mommy had in a long time. Before Dad left, and when he wasn't at a game our out messing around, he took all of her attention, and after he disappeared she just stopped caring. He took everything from his own son, every last thing, and he couldn't manage to hate him more. The problem was, the only way he seemed to be able to express emotion lately was through tears. Dad's voice haunted him almost constantly: "Ah, go to him. He'll cry if you don't."

It was four weeks after Mommy had gotten sick. He spent his days hanging around, practicing with a ball while no one watched. Without Dad around to make fun of him, he found it easier than before – maybe now he would finally pick up some moves. One morning, while he counted how many times he could bounce the ball against his head, a sudden sound distracted him momentarily. His head swiveled to where the noise had come from, and in the process he lost track of where the ball was. Before he could find a source for the disturbance, his ball came down and hit him swiftly in the head. He fell, dazed, to the ground, and stared blankly ahead as he felt tears well into his eyes.

"You must be Tidus." The voice was rough and sounded worse for the wear, as though not used much. A pair of boots appeared in front of him, and he looked up to see the face that matched. It was a man, ordinary looking in thought and yet seeming entirely different. There was an angry red scar down his right eye, and one of his arms was tucked away into the dark red cloak he wore. Though he tried to meet the scrutinizing gaze with one of his own, he could not stop from sniffling pathetically, which lessened the effect somewhat. "He was always telling us how you cried."

"Miss Aelfi says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he said insistently, hurt that someone he had known for barely two seconds had already brought up his annoying habit. To his surprise, the stranger chuckled a little. The stare was much friendlier with a smile, and he relaxed a little. The man did the same, and crouched so that they were near face-to-face. Sniffles and whimpers were utterly forgotten in the exploration of this strange new person.

"A good habit. Your Miss Aelfi is right." Looking down, he watched as the stranger glanced at the ball lying on the deck. There was deep sadness in his gaze, but he only caught a glimpse of it before it faded away. "I knew your father – Jecht." This intrigued him – was he an old drinking buddy that Dad had never bothered to introduce? "How long has he been gone now?"

"Few months." Standing again, he took the ball and began bouncing it on his knee, refusing to look at the man again. "He disappeared, and nobody knew what happened. Mommy thought he died, so she's dying too." Suddenly, the thought struck him – of all people, perhaps this man would not give him a pitying look or make up some story when he asked for the truth. "Is Dad dead?"

"…Yes. He's gone." He gave the ball an extra-hard bounce, not bothering to chase it when it rolled away.

"Good. I hate him!" Again, the man chuckled, making him angry. Why was that funny? It was the truth, and why was that so hard to believe?

"I know. He told me you'd say that." Instead of telling him he was sorry, or anything else that grown-ups tended to do these days, he grunted as he got to his feet and stared off at the ocean. The sun was beginning to sink, but he was not looking at the colors stretching across the evening sky. Rather, he seemed to be waiting… watching for someone. "My name is Auron. Your father asked me to watch you in his stead - he was worried about you, while he was away from home. I promised I would."

"Forget it." Auron raised an eyebrow, but he did not speak again. Spreading his legs apart, he took a hero's stance and thumped his chest the way he had seen Dad's blitz friends do. "I don't need anyone's help. I'll be fine on my own." They stared at each other a moment, one defiant and the other cool and collected. Finally, when he couldn't bear to hold the glower any longer, Auron rescued him by turning his back. He couldn't tell if he had offended him or he simply was taking in the scenery.

"All right. Have it your way, then." Tidus sniffled, wiping his eyes and his nose with a sleeve. To be honest, he'd fully expected the man to leave then and there, but instead he kept staring off into the distance… not saying a word. Pouting, he came to stand behind him. If he was going to be there, he should at least talk. It was an adult's job to break awkward silences, after all.

"What're you looking at?" he asked, having to tilt at an angle to look up at the man's head. He jolted a little, as though he had forgotten the little boy was there, but his composure never faltered. This was a man who knew how to keep his cool… unlike Dad. He wondered how they had even gotten along. "There's nothing out there, is there?"

"No. Jecht was always talking about this place… about how beautiful it was. I see now that he was right." That was it. Now he wanted some answers.

"Where were you and Dad?"

"Far away."

"Why did he leave?"

"He had no choice."

"Why did you like him?"

"I had no choice."

"You did too have a choice. Tell me the truth." Auron looked down at him with a little smile, obviously not entirely minding his questions. He had to have extreme patience, having dealt with Dad… Dad. So he really was dead. Well, now maybe Mommy could be with him, and be happy. That's what she really wanted, after all.

"There's nothing else to tell. We had to trust each other, so we did. That was all." All of a sudden, he turned and looked off in the opposite direction, a hardness in his face. Curious, Tidus did the same, but before he could get a good look, he was pushed back towards the house. "Go inside."

"You're not the boss of me!"

"Tidus." His voice was gentle but insistent, and the sincerity of it made him consider actually listening. "Go inside." With a final, somewhat forlorn look towards his blitzball, he slowly meandered back into the house though the situation seemed urgent. Being a boy, he wanted in on whatever action was going to happen, but even though he kept checking the windows, he did not see Auron again. Miss Aelfi commented on his face being glued to the window, but though she suggested it, Tidus did not go outside again.

The next morning, he greeted Miss Aelfi at the breakfast table only to find her in a terrible flutter. "Oh, dear," she said, hands jerking about as she fretted over nothing. "You're a lucky boy, you know. There was a break-in at your house yesterday, but the thieves didn't get away with anything. In fact, they seem to have barely made it through the door. Oh, and with your poor mother inside… goodness knows what might have happened."

"Huh," Tidus said quietly, picking up his fork and poking at the food on his plate. So that was why. Well, perhaps Auron wasn't so bad. He wondered if he'd ever see him again… if only to tell him thanks. It wasn't every day that someone you just met saved you and your mommy from the bad guys.

Age 13

"It is preposterous," Auron said matter-of-factly, the only thing blocking Tidus from the front door of what was now (and had always been) his house. "Jecht would not have allowed it." Folding his arms, Tidus glowered at the man. All he'd done lately was pop up and interfere with his life, messing things up and diverting them from the way he wanted it to go. But he wouldn't let Auron mess this one up. This was his first real chance at freedom, and this was going to happen, whether he liked it or not.

"It's my house," he said, not bothering to raise his voice. "And maybe I don't care what my old man would've wanted. He isn't here anymore, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Regardless," Auron said, also not bothering to adjust from his usual monotonous tone, "letting a boy your age live on his own is asking for disaster. You'll kill yourself before the week is out."

"Well, it's not like you have a choice!" Tidus shouted, feeling angry, steaming tears begin and hating himself for it. He could never seem to keep from crying, no matter how old he got. "Anyway, I'm not a boy anymore. I don't need a babysitter."

"I have to disagree. Any boy that can't keep himself from getting upset at the littlest things must be watched." At that, anger boiled over, and Tidus stepped forward to shove his finger in Auron's chest. The man was still so much taller than he, and that only served to infuriate him further.

"Why don't you shut up? It isn't your decision – it's mine! It's my life, and I can do what I want with it!" As he began to clomp down the stairs, planning fully on slamming the door in his face, he was surprised to feel Auron swaying passively as he gave him a shove out of the way. He did not follow, and when Tidus paused, hand on the doorknob, they merely waited for the other to act. With a growl, Tidus pulled the door open and slammed it shut again once he was inside. Scrubbing away his tears, he waited to hear the footsteps that meant Auron was coming to the door… but instead, he heard footsteps going the opposite direction.

He had… given up?

There was a difference between living in a house with one's parents and living in the same house by yourself. The whole day, he endured the silence, and when it got to be too bad he would turn on a television and immerse himself in blitz games. There was little in the fridge he felt like eating, though someone had kept it stocked with fresh food, so he eventually settled on a bag of chips. That was all he ate.

When night fell, he was faced with a problem. The city outside still buzzed with activity, and the lights blazed brighter than ever. People walked along the dock, discussing this and that, and even pausing to sit and talk one-on-one. However, even with all the people outside, and even with the blare of the games he was watching, Tidus was horribly alone. There was no mother to kiss him goodnight, no elderly lady to tuck him in… it was the first time he missed Aelfi since she'd died. Though she wasn't the best of company he could have, she was still company… something he now lacked.

Finally, when he could no longer hold his eyes open, Tidus trudged off towards his bedroom… and stopped beside a different door. He worked up his nerve a moment before daring to open it, peeking in as though he was back to being a child not wanting to wake his mother up. The room was ever the same as when they had locked up the house, with the same bed sheets and the same picture of his old man sitting on the end table. It even still smelled like her, like the perfume she used to put on before she gave up. Tidus could almost feel her arms around him, and hear her jovial laughter.

Treading carefully, he came to the edge of the bed and stared down. That was where she had died… where she let herself go. Feeling the tears coming again, and this time not bothering to stop them, he crawled to the middle of the bed and curled up in a ball, little sobs wracking his body. When the floor creaked beneath a foreign weight, he did not hear it, and did not realize there was anyone else in the house until the voice came from right beside him.

"You should lock your door before you go to bed. The first rule of living alone." Tidus did not bother to stop crying, and merely looked up with a tear-stained face. Auron did not seem to be judging him harshly, and instead was watching him with a blank expression. He was wearing a sort of… a collar around his neck, hiding his face – that was new – and there were streaks of grey in his hair that Tidus hadn't noticed before. They caught the dim light and shone. "Come on."

He came further into the room, taking a chair along the way and dragging it to the side of the bed. Not bothering to ask himself why, Tidus scooted up until his head was resting on the pillow. With a little grunt, Auron dropped into the chair and stared back out into the living room, crossing his legs. Tidus wiped his tears away with the sheets, grateful for the company – even if it was silent company – and began to drift away into sleep. Before he was too far gone, however, he managed to lift one eyelid.

"Auron?" The man hummed in response, still not looking in his direction. "When do you sleep?"

"When I need to." Without another word, Tidus dropped off, and when he woke up in the morning Auron was gone.

Age 17 (three weeks before Sin)

Angrily, Tidus threw open his front door and stormed in, making a show of flinging about cookware in his search for something to eat. He was still dripping wet, and probably ruining the carpet, but at the moment he couldn't care less. Nothing mattered right now – he'd just made the dumbest call in the history of his career, and then when he saw the result, he'd stormed off the field and come straight home. A temper-tantrum, he knew. What his old man would say – he could almost hear the jeering now. But he wasn't here, thank… well… thank whatever for that.

"You can't do it, kid. No one can. I'm the best."

Taking hold of a pot, he slammed it noisily against the counter to drown out the sound of his father's voice. He felt something trickling down his face and for a moment convinced himself that he was just dripping still. Always crying, and never doing anything about it, Dad would say. Dad… he still called him that, if only in the deepest reaches of his mind. He could kill himself for it – Jecht was anything but a father. "Cry, cry, that's all you're really good for!"

Glancing over at the clock, Tidus frowned and ran a hand through his hair, flicking droplets everywhere. It was four in the morning, which meant he might have some eggs for a breakfast-dinner hybrid and call it a day. That seemed all right… but, heck, he could have anything. He could eat cake for breakfast, hard candy for dinner, and let his teeth go to hell if he wanted – that was the benefit of living alone. If one could consider that a benefit. Bending down and rummaging in a lower cupboard, he pulled out a skillet and set it on the stove, opening the fridge and looking at the carton of eggs. He'd have enough for a few more days.

'You really should start locking your door." Reaching up and wiping at his eyes hastily, guiltily, Tidus shut the refrigerator and took a few steps out of the kitchen. Auron stood there, leaning effortlessly against the door frame as usual. He wondered how long the man had been standing there and whether or not he had seen him crying. If he had, he'd give Tidus hell for it.

"What do you want?" Tidus asked, by now used to Auron popping in and out from seemingly nowhere. Standing straight again, Auron shrugged a little, glancing back at the door Tidus had left open as though wondering whether or not to close it. Bad mood not quite evaporated, he put his hands behind his head and waited for an answer.

"It was a bad call. Your team lost because of you." Well. That hadn't been something he'd expected.

"You came to say THAT?" Tidus asked incredulously, making a face. It wouldn't surprise him if he had. Auron always had a strange way of starting conversation.

He chuckled and came halfway down the ramp into the room, signifying his intent to stay and have some sort of chat. The look he gave Tidus, and his tone of voice, were not the sort he enjoyed being spoken to in. It sounded as though he was having a great joke at his expense. "It's been… ten years. I thought you'd be crying." So he hadn't seen, if Tidus was to judge by the humor in his voice. Ten years… Auron looked as though he'd aged twenty or thirty, a far cry from the young man who had introduced himself to a little boy.

"Who, me?" Auron ignored him, coming further into the house and making himself at home on a couch. Sighing, Tidus went back to the kitchen and took out twice the eggs he'd been going to cook, turning on the stove. "So… you were watching the game?" Perhaps his anger was ebbing – surely the older man's influence. Calm in the face of absolutely everything, Auron's mood was positively infectious.

"I try to attend, often as I can, but I never claimed to like the sport. It was Jecht who dragged us around, making us go to games and lecturing us on techniques. I often lost my patience with him."

"Could you not talk about my old man for once?" Tidus snapped, not bothering to look at him. That was all Auron seemed to bring up, as though he was hinting at something. Through his voice, he knew Auron was smirking.

"My apologies." Tidus nodded in a form of forgiveness, and continued with the business of making scrambled eggs before Auron brought up an even less desirable topic. "You usually play well." He hated how he could never tell if Auron was taking a shot at him or not. Instead of deciding, he stirred the eggs around a little and added a pinch of salt. "What made you panic like that?" At that, he turned and looked in confusion. He was lounged against the couch, as though he hadn't rested in years, and could have been asleep were he not speaking. "The other team surrounded you – is that it?"

"I thought you didn't understand blitz." He chuckled.

"I don't have to understand to recognize panic." Ignoring the earlier question, Tidus kept an eye on the skillet as he pulled out two plates, turning off the stove with his free hand. He divided the eggs in half, piling each portion on a plate, and pulled out two forks as he walked by the drawer. One plate was set on the table in front of Auron, and he sat down on a chair with the other. As he began to eat, Auron cracked open his eye (had he really been sleeping?) again. "You cook." It was a statement, not a question – he had a way of doing that.

"Sometimes." He did not sit forward, let alone look at his food other than a quick glance, but Tidus wasn't insulted. Eating would have meant removing his collar, and since he'd seen it that first time Auron had never taken it off. Not once.

"At least you feed yourself." They were quiet a while, Tidus scarfing down breakfast in only a way hungry teenagers could, and Auron seemed content just to stare up at the ceiling fan. Outside, it began to get brighter and brighter, the hints of dawn peeking across the horizon and spilling over through the living room window. Polite to a fault (even if it was a strange fault), Auron waited for Tidus to finish eating before addressing him again. "Have you practiced the move before?"

Tidus froze halfway through carrying his dish to the sink. It was obvious that he did not care for the subject, any more than he cared for fifty percent of the topics Auron usually brought up, but the man's steady stare had worn him down. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked away.

"No. It just happened. They were all there, and I thought about how he'd just… knock them out of the way, like flies or something. I tried to copy what he did… and it didn't work. You must have seen – I hit myself in the face." Auron snorted, though not unkindly.

"Something you deserved after so rash a move." When Tidus turned to look at him, Auron closely inspected his nose as though searching for a defect. "It's obviously not broken."

"The bleeding stopped when I left the sphere." Standing, Auron came to stand beside Tidus and put a hand on his shoulder in a rare show of camaraderie. He really did look so different from when he'd turned up in the neighbor lady's yard – a young man and a little boy, entirely different but linked by the same man.

"Keep practicing. It will get better." With that, he began to head for the door, exiting in his usual manner – unexpected and at his own pace. At the door, he paused again, seeming to struggle with words briefly. But it didn't last long – he was almost never tongue-tied. "…Thanks for breakfast." And then he was gone, disappearing through the still open door.

"Huh." Shrugging, Tidus went back over to the table and stared down at the uneaten eggs. Frankly, he couldn't say why he had cooked extra – he never thought Auron would eat it. Perhaps it was that politeness his mom had pounded into his head at an early age. Either way, it no longer mattered. He'd done it, and it was stupid… kind of like that move earlier. Well, if Auron thought he might be able to master the move, he might be right. He was a far cry from being the perfect mentor (or whatever he was), but he did loads better than Jecht ever did in the motivational department.

Taking the food, he pondered saving it for later but decided against it. He'd never touch it anyway. As he stood near the garbage can, Tidus glanced out the window at the sunrise. Already, the ocean was rose-colored, gathering in the beautiful colors of sunrise and reflecting them back. He could only imagine what the rest of the city looked like – each day seemed to be more beautiful and very different from the other. Catching sight of a figure not far away, he peered closer, focusing his attention on the end of the dock.

It was Auron, holding the jug he always had at his waist up as though toasting the morning.

Looking away, Tidus tipped the eggs into the garbage.

Author's Note: If at any time during this story you thought I intended this to be a pairing, stop. Slap yourself in the face, and then click the back button at the top of the page. I can't stand that; it's so gross. It isn't just that Tidus has Yuna (andAuronhasRikkucoughcough), but… it's Auron. Auron. So just no.

Anyway, this was merely me playing around with Tidus and Auron's relationship, which was always sort of amusing to me. They're really kind of mean to each other sometimes, which I can't quite blame them for since they have almost completely different personalities. Still, I cracked up once or twice when Tidus would say something off-hand and accidentally offend Auron… and then he wouldn't talk for an hour or so of gameplay. You can tell that they are close, in a weird sort of way, and that there is an unspoken respect for each other buried deep under the frequent crankiness and disagreements.