Disclaimer: Final Fantasy X, X-2, and all related nouns and pronouns appear courtesy of Square-Enix.

This chapter contains the song "Memory", by Sugarcult. Credit goes to where it is due.

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The Most Excellent Way

by Kairos27

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2. Just Another Pop Star

I, Auron, the Legendary Guardian, loyal protector of the High Summoners Braska and Yuna, wielder of the mighty Masamune, a legend comparable to Lord Ohalland in the eyes of many Spirans—am currently singing my lungs out to a fast-paced, too-noisy song while a mostly-female crowd screams in delight in the foreground.

Just the sort of song that she would listen to.

This may never start

We could fall apart

And I'd be your memory

I don't even know this song, and yet I am singing it as if I have known it all my life. This is very odd. But then, three aeons, presumably in human form, are playing the instruments that are accompanying me. Obviously they've got something to do with that.

I am wondering if Bahamut and Shiva chose this song; they're unquestionably juvenile enough to enjoy this sort of music. I am certainly singing it against my will. I don't like it at all.

Lost your sense of fear

Feelings insincere

Can I be your memory?

This song doesn't make any sense. Are all popular songs like this?

So get back, back, back to where we lasted

Just like I imagine

I could never feel this way

So get back, back, back to the disaster

My heart's beating faster

Holding on to feel the same

Hmph. I do not want to admit this, but…I think my voice sounds better than it has been for the last decade. Back when I was younger I could keep a decent tune, but as I grew older…and then died…I did not have much occasion to sing anymore.

But now it seems that Yuna's Eternal Calm has ushered in a new generation of (bad) music, as well as a new way of life. Before Yuna's time, the girls that I see shrieking like excited banshees in the stands would be at home, living in constant fear that Sin would come if they ever left. As if their homes were any safer from Jecht when they were inside them. Hmph.

This may never start

I'll tear us apart

Can I be your enemy?

If it weren't for some sort of mysterious magic that keeps me singing—it's like being possessed, I cannot stop myself—I would be running off the stage, right about now. In an inconspicuous way, of course.

This is all Shiva's fault. And Bahamut's. I can see that Bahamut singing an accompaniment to my part, out of the corner of my—my right eye!

I can see out of my right eye again! But that's hardly retribution enough for making me come up on stage and sing a pop song.

Losing half a year

Waiting for you here

I'd be your anything

As my mind makes plans to reprimand Shiva for her insolence after this nightmare is over (I have given up respecting Shiva and Bahamut, and Ifrit's credibility has been greatly damaged by his playing along with them!), my thoughts, for some reason, drift over to the temple in Macalania, where Shiva—or rather, the fayth who dreamed up a carbon copy of her, as Bahamut claims—ruled. Macalania was a magic place, I knew. And of course I knew what happened at the lake. We all did. Wouldn't you know it, if you saw Tidus and Yuna coming out of the vicinity, dripping wet and grinning like idiots at each other?

I wondered idly, back then, if Jecht and Braska were planning on becoming future fathers-in-law to each other's children.

So get back, back, back to where we lasted

Just like I imagine

I could never feel this way

Yuna and Tidus were fools indeed, but they did not seem to care, as long as they could be two fools together.

Lucky children.

So get back, back, back to the disaster

My heart's beating faster

Holding on to feel the same

(I wonder where Tidus is right now. Bahamut never said anything about that, but I cannot expect him to know; he's not his fayth.)

I stop singing. There is a long musical interlude. Bahamut, Ifrit, and Shiva seem to be enjoying themselves, judging by the way they're pounding into their instruments. But I am not. Let's hope that this song is over…

This may never start

Tearing out my heart

I'd be your memory

Bother. I started singing again. When is this song going to end?

Lost your sense of fear

Feelings disappear

Can I be your memory?

The music stops suddenly. Finally! The song is—

So get back, back, back to where we lasted

Just like I imagine

I could never feel this way

—not over. I'm going to kill them.

So get back, back, back to the disaster

My heart's beating faster

Holding on to feel the same

…blah, blah, blah. Holding on to feel the same about what? This song is obviously about someone who is regretting a past relationship, regretting lost chances, but…

I freeze.

Auron, you are such an idiot. Or as she would say, cdibet-rayt.

Bahamut and Shiva made me sing this trash because they're trying to send a message. To me? Or are they trying to help me send a message…to her?

This may never start

We could fall apart

And I'd be your memory

We are in the Luca blitzball stadium. Surely, judging by the size of the crowd, this could rival any championship game in attendance.

And championship games are always played on sphere-screens all across Spira.

Lost your sense of fear

Feelings insincere

Perhaps…perhaps she's watching.

And that frightens me.

Can I be your memory?

Once I sing that line…I know the song is drawing to a close. The machina guitar stops whining, and all the lights in the stadium turn on, flooding the stage with light. I wince. The crowd has gone completely insane with screaming and applause; a few more teenagers faint in the stands. I can see some of the fans holding up several banners, up somewhere in the back, which read I LUV U, and I'M UR GURL, and MARRY ME.

Such atrocious spelling.

The constant screech of adoring female voices at their highest register, and the sudden bright light, and the fact that I was dead only five minutes ago, is giving me a terrible migraine and making me sick to my stomach—reminding me of just how much I hate fame.

I was famous once before, but never like this. Back then my fame was of the "worship-from-afar" type. That, I could handle. But not this. I can't handle this.

And my "much improved" body (as according to Bahamut) agrees with me.

I am distinctly aware of the crowd's adoration turning into cries of horror as I feel my knees buckling under me. The bright light forces my eyes close and my conscious functions to shut off.

I think I'm dying again. No need for the machina pistols.

--

"…Got any aces?"

"Go fish."

"Aw, man…hey look, he's awake!"

I find myself lying down on something like a couch, if the backrest that is pressed against my side is any indication. I feel myself breathing, my chest rising and falling.

I am not dead again.

Groaning softly, I struggle to open my eyes. The first thing I see is a swarthy, bulky man with a great deal of red hair standing over me, looking at me sympathetically. Ifrit.

"How do you feel?" he murmurs. "That was quite a dramatic fall you took."

"I…fell?"

"You sure did," Bahamut pipes up, and I note that his voice is deeper than the little-boy voice that he started out with, but then, he's in the body of an older teenager. A very handsome boy, but there is an insolent air about him that irks me deeply. He also does not have a shirt on at the moment, instead choosing to flaunt a large tattoo of a black dragon—himself—on his chest. "You fainted. The girls loved it. Ate it up. Well, in a manner of speaking."

"More like they collapsed in droves and sobbed that the man of their dreams was dying when we were trying to get him off stage," Shiva notes dryly. She hasn't much changed, being that she was basically human in form from the beginning, but her skin is now a light coffee color and her hair is black. She is still dressed in the blue cloak.

"So…" I wince. "Everyone saw."

"Yes. And even if they didn't, your spectacular collapse going to be on 'Entertainment Spira' on Sphere TV tonight, as well as in the gossip rags." Shiva gives me a pitying look as she shoulders Ifrit over, in order to remove a damp cloth from my head, which I didn't notice was there before. "Luckily, we managed to get you out of there before they got too much footage. Not that that's much of a consolation, I know."

Once she moves aside, I sit up, swinging my legs off the side of the couch. My head throbs vaguely. "Where are we?"

Bahamut grins widely as he motions around him. "Our new digs in Luca. Check it out. We have a balcony overlooking the city!"

I look around myself, and I admit I am quite impressed. The apartments are furnished lavishly, with all sorts of machina gadgets nestled among sleek, expensive-looking furniture. There is a wide-screen sphere screen (I think), as well as a rack full of music and video spheres. Plastered all over the wall are posters of Blitzball teams, and there is even a personalized framed picture of Yuna making a speech in the very same blitzball stadium I had fainted in; Yuna herself had signed it.

"How did you accomplish all of this?" I ask them, and my irritation begins to get the better of me. "And pray tell…why am I a pop singer?" I snap.

Bahamut shrugs. "It was either a pop star, or a clown in the Calm Lands circus; complete with polka-dot tights and a red rubber nose. Would you have preferred that?"

Well…

"We had to find a new body for you, so we did," Shiva says. "Then, we just…sort of…ripped a hole in the space-time continuum and filled it back in with you. And us." She giggles. "I've never had so much fun in my entire life…and that's saying a lot, you know."

"Hmph," is all I say.

"We told the people that your…incident was just a case of dehydration," Ifrit puts in. "We checked your vital signs and you appear to be fine. You are alive."

I do not answer him. Instead, I stand up, glance around me, and—freeze. There is a stranger looking at me from the glass-paned patio door that leads to the balcony.

It's my reflection…only it isn't mine. My eyes are the same light brown eyes that they always were…but now they are peering out from a stranger's face. This strange body is just about as tall as what my height used to be, and about the same build, but my hair—thankfully the same color—looks like a chocobo's crest on a windy day. One thing is certain—that little ponytail I had back in the day is gone, with good riddance. I don't have as many wrinkles (I somewhat miss them). All in all, I look younger…but that is not always a good thing. At least my wrinkles made me look dignified.

So this is the "improved" body Bahamut chose to give me.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Bahamut remarks, drawing my attention away from my new appearance. "Obviously, you can't call us by our aeon names, or people will think you're blaspheming or something."

Shiva points behind me to a poster that I hadn't seen yet. It is a promotional poster for a concert starring…us. I am depicted there (or my new body is), along with my three companions. Our "names" are written under our respective images: under Bahamut, Shiva, and Ifrit read BENNY, SHANKARA, and EPHRAM, respectively. Under my own picture reads NORUA.

What kind of name is that?

"It is your name spelled backwards, pronounced 'NOR-wa'," Ifrit, or Ephram, informs me. "In the grand scheme of things, that is not very creative, eh?"

No, it isn't. "Anyone with half a brain could see right through it," I growl.

"Nooo," Shiva snickers, "not if they don't know who you are. Trust me—we're aeons. We're professionals. Spirans aren't exactly known for their smarts. Now look at the poster again."

I look. Above our picture are the words in bold print: PROJECT AEON. "That's our band name," Shiva explains.

"According to the magazines, we're the hottest new singing sensation this side of Bevelle," Bahamut adds smugly.

"What magazines?" Now, unlike most Spirans, I knew what magazines were, because I had read them in Tidus' Zanarkand. But there weren't any magazines the last time I was in Spira. How much time has passed since then, anyway?

"Why, the Spira News Weekly, of course," Ifrit says, "and The Spiran. There are stacks of issues in your room. I read some of them while you were unconscious."

"Wait, wait," I interrupt him. "There weren't any magazines back when I was still here. Why are there magazines now? How much time has passed since…since I left?"

Shiva and Bahamut trade meaningful glances. Ifrit merely shrugs his massive shoulders. "It has been…a little over two years since you left. You, of course, know that Yuna had almost single-handedly discredited the Yevon church. This resulted in a lot of unheard-of freedom for the news media, which had been, up till then, largely nonexistent outside of blitzball game coverage, and heavily censored by the church. Now, with the church mostly dismantled, except for a faction stationed in Bevelle, the media has undergone an explosion of material. Luca now has a broadcasting station. And technology has flourished."

I nod slowly. So this is what Yuna's Eternal Calm accomplished. Not only peace from bloodthirsty Sin, but also freedom of the press and technological advancements. Two years have gone by. Two years of calm, and the people knowing that Sin will never, ever return. For a moment, I feel some emotion pooling in my throat; I am proud of little Yuna.

"Unfortunately," Bahamut adds, breaking the mood, "there's also been a bit of political turmoil. But it's all resolved, for now," he finishes gaily. "Now! Time for some more fun! What do you guys want to do?"

Shiva jumps up. "Let's go check out Luca!" she suggests. "We've never been here before."

"I think," Ifrit says, glaring at them, "that if you two want to go, then go. But Sir Auron should stay here. The crowds will gather, and for now he should not have to handle that."

If I were anyone other than myself—oh, wait a minute, I am—I probably would have kissed Ifrit for being so sensible. But, new body or not, I am not going to do any such thing.

"Suit yourself," Bahamut sniffs. "I'm game, Shiva…let's go!"

"'Shankara'," Shiva corrects. "We've got to practice our secret identities. Come on, 'Benny'."

The two of them leave, much to my relief, chattering like excited squirrels. (Bahamut neglected to put a shirt on.) Once they are gone, Ifrit turns back to me. "Perhaps you should go to your room and have a real lie-down. Everything else can wait until later," he suggests. "Your room is down that hall…" pointing behind me, "the first door to your left."

I nod at Ifrit gratefully. At least he has sense. I would probably have to kill myself again if I were alone with Shiva and Bahamut. Which would be unfortunate, especially since they gave me a second chance—a second chance that, right now, I'm not sure I truly want.

--

My room is organized, if cluttered—mostly with stacks of Spira News Weekly magazines. Apparently, The Spiran is a monthly magazine, judging by the dates on the cover and the fact that I have less of them. There is nothing on the walls, although there is a desk and a chair and a closet.

Instead of lying down, as Ifrit suggested, I find myself sifting through the magazines. There's a 'Person of the Year' issue for The Spiran—it's Yuna on the cover, naturally. I flip through the issue: it contains mostly (shallow) biographical information, and long, tedious commentaries on everything from her Al Bhed heritage to her opinions on the environment.

Near the middle is a spread devoted to her Guardians. Including me. The writer describes me in a long blurb under my picture:

Sir Auron, the most famous of Lady Yuna's guardians, is the legendary warrior who defeated Sin twice. Once a disgraced warrior monk from the now-defunct church of Yevon in Bevelle…

(Where did they get that information, I wonder?)

…he became guardian to the late High Summoner Braska. After Lord Braska completed his pilgrimage, Sir Auron vanished for ten years. Some say that he died in the interim and became Unsent, but there are no sources that can confirm this.

(Well, Yuna can certainly keep a secret.)

What Sir Auron did during those ten years is cloaked in mystery, but most people agree that during that time, he raised the orphaned son of his late companion, Sir Jecht. That son became Sir Tidus. Sir Auron himself officially joined Lady Yuna's pilgrimage in Luca. His experience was instrumental in her success. At the very end of the journey, as Lady Yuna performed the Sending for Sin's carcass, Sir Auron was also Sent to his rest—it is unknown whether he died then, or was Unsent; he vanished from Spira along with Sir Tidus, who is widely assumed to have died at the end of the pilgrimage. Such was the end of a truly great warrior.

All in all, I think, not too bad. The writer did well to abstain from excessive flattery, which I have had to deal with before.

My eyes travel downwards and fall upon her profile. I am curious to see what this author has to say about her, so I decide to read it, against my better judgment:

Lady Rikku was the last Guardian to join Lady Yuna on her pilgrimage.

(She would shout with laughter, seeing a Spiran label her so.)

Although she is an Al Bhed, she decided to join the pilgrimage out of loyalty to Lady Yuna, who, as it turns out, is her first cousin. Although shunned by the Yevonite temples, she remained faithful to the quest.

(Not counting the times she was plotting to kidnap Yuna, I suppose.)

Her skills as an alchemist helped bring Lady Yuna closer to victory, and in the end, her devotion to her cousin paid off.

I frown. Is that it? Even Kimahri has a longer blurb than she does, and he never spoke half as much. Apparently, Al Bhed discrimination is still widespread, although more subdued that it used to be. I am angry at the blatant unfairness, for her sake. She guarded Yuna just as well as I did. That idiotic writer didn't see what I saw—Rikku clinging to Yuna with tears streaming down her cheeks, begging her cousin not to make such a pointless sacrifice by walking in her father's footsteps. Her familial love for Yuna outdid any sort of fatherly inclination I had (there's a reason why Kimahri was the father-figure, not me).

She deserves more than what she got in the magazine. Hmph.

I take a moment to study the picture they put on top of her outrageously short blurb. It's not a recent picture—she doesn't look any different from when I last saw her. In the photo, she's still the little girl that washed up at our feet on the Moonflow, and nervously asked me if she could join us; the little girl I dreamed about (and hated myself for it) for countless nights straight on our trek to Gagazet.

But she has to have changed—it's been two years after all.

Putting aside the magazine, I search through the more recent periodicals, hoping to find something else. The most recent issue of Spiran News Weekly that I have is a few months old, and is hardly useful: there is a picture of three men addressing a crowd in Luca—one of them looks vaguely familiar. The headline screams, "The Not-So-Eternal Calm". Inside are articles yarning about the three men on the cover; the men are the leaders of New Yevon (the faction trying to revive a watered-down version of the Yevon church), the Youth League (which is trying to expose all of New Yevon's secrets), and the Machine Faction, which is currently on a campaign to make machina more prevalent in Spira. Yuna is barely mentioned anywhere, except for a few sentences where the main article praises her for bringing the three leaders together.

Oh well. It helps to be informed somewhat of the political situation, at least…but that's not why I came back to life, is it? I didn't come back to save Spira. Spira's already safe; Yuna saw to that. I look around and realize that, for the first time in almost thirty years, there isn't a single weapon in my room.

Come to think of it…where is my Masamune, anyway?

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FIN part 2

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And now for our Special Feature: The Aeons Have Their Say!

(Once again we are in that Special Plane, the aeons' plane of existence. Today, Valefor and Anima join us.)

Anima: Hello! Let's get straight to the moral, shall we? Today's moral is: 'It's really easy to make Sir Auron faint, just make him do something really embarrassing'.

Valefor: For those of you wondering when Rikku will come into the story, she will come soon. And, for those of you frustrated at the fact that Auron only refers to his lady love as "she and "her" instead of her name R-I-K-K-U…well, you survived Final Fantasy X-2 with Yuna calling her boyfriend "him" instead of T-I-D-U-S, didn't you? I should hope so, or this story wouldn't make any sense.

(Ixion appears, chasing Cindy, who is holding a large ice cream cone, across the screen.)

Ixion: Come back here! Give that back! That's my deluxe triple-chocolate caramel-covered nougat fudge ice cream!

Valefor: I swear, Ixion eats like a horse…in any case, the author apologizes for the boring logistical-ness of this chapter, and hopes that future chapters will be more interesting. No smooching for a while, though. Sorry.

(Someone off-screen hands Anima a letter.)

Anima: We at TAHTS (The Aeons Have Their Say) love to receive mail. As a special addition to this segment, I shall answer one of the questions from our viewers. Here's a letter from our mailbox: "Dear Anima: Which Summoner did you prefer, Yuna or your son?"

(Anima throws the letter over her shoulder.)

Anima: What a great question, my dear fan! To be honest, you should address that question to my fayth, because she's the one who dreamed up the version of me that they summoned. My fayth was a most shameless hussy, abandoning her own son! But what's done is done. Anyway, if you ask me, I prefer Yuna, who is technically my darling daughter-in-law. She is polite, brave, she bathes regularly, AND she respects her mother-in-law, namely me. Of course, she beat me up a little before then, but that wasn't really me, so I have no hard feelings. She's a dear, though sometimes I question her taste in men; her ex-husband was a pedophile and her current boyfriend is an airhead…

Valefor: Anima, Desperate Housewives is on in one minute. Let's finish this.

Anima: Right. Thank you for joining us, dear reader; we'll see you again next chapter.

Do YOU have a question for the aeons at The Aeons Have Their Say? Just leave a comment in the Story Reviews section, and send us your questions. Please make sure to say which of our aeons you want to answer the question. It's that simple!

End, for real.