You've heard it all. Tidus's story. Auron's story. Their stories. Because
they defeated Yu Yevon. They brought the ever-elusive Eternal Calm. All
about them. But let me tell you something.
You've heard about that fateful encounter with Seymour "Omnis". You've stared agape when told about Braska's Final Aeon and the tearful reunion between father and son. You've wept as you imagined the fleeting vision of a summoner watching her reasons to live vanish before her eyes. They just left out one minor detail.
I was there.
We were there. All of us. My friends, compatriots. Kyle, Shauna, Kevin, Andrew, Kenwan, Billy and myself, on our own pilgrimage with Luke.
Looking on. Helping out in the frays. Unnoticed, we continued to assist Yuna and her guardians. WE distracted the Malboro as they got away. WE tossed those extra Mega Potions into their bags when they weren't looking. WE paid Rin to let them stay for free, and WE convinced O'aka to sell them his merchandise half-off. To put it bluntly, we saved their sorry butts more than they'll ever know.
Did we get credit? No. We trudged on alongside nonetheless, never greeted with more than a polite, "Hello." Really can't blame them. We were only 13 and 14 years old, anyway. Why should they pay any attention to us? Feh.
And why did we do it?
All along, I knew this whole Yu Yevon thing was bullshit. Sin would always return if this dreadful cycle continued. I insisted that we follow Yuna and her guardians, because I knew that they were the hope of Spira. . . our only chance. How did I know about Yu Yevon? Listen.
I never knew my father. My mother died when I was three. A summoner. She was on her pilgrimage when she died, with only one guardian at her side and with me in her arms. It was a very rare thing for a summoner to do, to bring her child on a pilgrimage. We had just ventured into the Yevon Dome. Then, one day. . .
One day. . . I remember. . . Mom just wasn't there.
Before I rightly knew what was going on, I remember being swept up by somebody. A man. . . in red. . . But that's irrelevant. After a short nap in his comforting arms, I found myself on the cold stone floor. Standing up, I peered from behind a rock at the man in red. I remember the torn look on his face. . . and the hot angry tears staining his cheeks as he barked at the strange woman.
I heard the whole conversation. In retrospect, I don't know how my 3-year- old mind could register what they were saying, and I shouldn't even remember it to this day. But I remember everything that happened in that dome. Every detail, from the blood soaking through his clothes to the small red rivulets streaming away from his body.
I waited and watched as the silver lady disappeared into the night sky. As soon as I was sure she was gone, I sprinted over to the man, latched my tiny arms around his neck, and cried my eyes out, sobbing helplessly into his dripping coat.
I cried for my mother. I cried for the cycle of death Spira was bound to. And I cried for this poor broken man.
And I remember. . . I could feel his arms around me. . . and I could feel that he was sobbing, too.
From there my memories became foggy and indistinct, but there you have it. The rest is history. Let us not dwell on the past, but there are still but a few things for me to say. . .
Auron took me to Zanarkand. He took care of me and Tidus, raised us through our childhood. He knew I would die if I was left at Sin's disposal. . . but there was no time to fetch me before Sin destroyed the whole city. So why am I here? What a foolish question.
You see, I got sucked into Sin as well. . .
Along with my 7 best friends.
Coincidence? I think not. I was the only person alive who knew the truth, do you think I'd just let myself die? I recalled how Auron brought me to Zanarkand 10 years ago hitching a ride on Sin and rallied up my group of friends. They were all but expecting to die in the attack and wholly unprepared for the adventure that would ensue. . .
I know what I've said may be contradictory in and of itself, but don't worry, it'll all become clear soon. . . now make yourself comfortable and settle in for a nice long story. . .
My story.
You've heard about that fateful encounter with Seymour "Omnis". You've stared agape when told about Braska's Final Aeon and the tearful reunion between father and son. You've wept as you imagined the fleeting vision of a summoner watching her reasons to live vanish before her eyes. They just left out one minor detail.
I was there.
We were there. All of us. My friends, compatriots. Kyle, Shauna, Kevin, Andrew, Kenwan, Billy and myself, on our own pilgrimage with Luke.
Looking on. Helping out in the frays. Unnoticed, we continued to assist Yuna and her guardians. WE distracted the Malboro as they got away. WE tossed those extra Mega Potions into their bags when they weren't looking. WE paid Rin to let them stay for free, and WE convinced O'aka to sell them his merchandise half-off. To put it bluntly, we saved their sorry butts more than they'll ever know.
Did we get credit? No. We trudged on alongside nonetheless, never greeted with more than a polite, "Hello." Really can't blame them. We were only 13 and 14 years old, anyway. Why should they pay any attention to us? Feh.
And why did we do it?
All along, I knew this whole Yu Yevon thing was bullshit. Sin would always return if this dreadful cycle continued. I insisted that we follow Yuna and her guardians, because I knew that they were the hope of Spira. . . our only chance. How did I know about Yu Yevon? Listen.
I never knew my father. My mother died when I was three. A summoner. She was on her pilgrimage when she died, with only one guardian at her side and with me in her arms. It was a very rare thing for a summoner to do, to bring her child on a pilgrimage. We had just ventured into the Yevon Dome. Then, one day. . .
One day. . . I remember. . . Mom just wasn't there.
Before I rightly knew what was going on, I remember being swept up by somebody. A man. . . in red. . . But that's irrelevant. After a short nap in his comforting arms, I found myself on the cold stone floor. Standing up, I peered from behind a rock at the man in red. I remember the torn look on his face. . . and the hot angry tears staining his cheeks as he barked at the strange woman.
I heard the whole conversation. In retrospect, I don't know how my 3-year- old mind could register what they were saying, and I shouldn't even remember it to this day. But I remember everything that happened in that dome. Every detail, from the blood soaking through his clothes to the small red rivulets streaming away from his body.
I waited and watched as the silver lady disappeared into the night sky. As soon as I was sure she was gone, I sprinted over to the man, latched my tiny arms around his neck, and cried my eyes out, sobbing helplessly into his dripping coat.
I cried for my mother. I cried for the cycle of death Spira was bound to. And I cried for this poor broken man.
And I remember. . . I could feel his arms around me. . . and I could feel that he was sobbing, too.
From there my memories became foggy and indistinct, but there you have it. The rest is history. Let us not dwell on the past, but there are still but a few things for me to say. . .
Auron took me to Zanarkand. He took care of me and Tidus, raised us through our childhood. He knew I would die if I was left at Sin's disposal. . . but there was no time to fetch me before Sin destroyed the whole city. So why am I here? What a foolish question.
You see, I got sucked into Sin as well. . .
Along with my 7 best friends.
Coincidence? I think not. I was the only person alive who knew the truth, do you think I'd just let myself die? I recalled how Auron brought me to Zanarkand 10 years ago hitching a ride on Sin and rallied up my group of friends. They were all but expecting to die in the attack and wholly unprepared for the adventure that would ensue. . .
I know what I've said may be contradictory in and of itself, but don't worry, it'll all become clear soon. . . now make yourself comfortable and settle in for a nice long story. . .
My story.