AN: Thank you all for your kind reviews! They really meant a lot to me!

Onwards to the story. It goes without saying that this is a fan fiction and the events shown did not happen in the game. I tried to tie it as close to Tidus' version (i.e. FFX) as I can, but some times it work, some times it doesn't. Feel free to treat it as AU, and separate to FFX (no one can top that story!)!

Chapter 1

My kneecaps were starting to drum a low, resounding pain through my joints. Alone in the dimly lit Chamber of the Fayth, I had lost track of how long I have been kneeling in this prone position in front of the fayth. A drop of sweat rolled from my head, down my cheek. The sensation encouraged the droplets hanging precariously from my eyes to follow suit. I will not allow myself to cry. I can sense that my guardians were still waiting patiently behind the heavy walls. All this trouble, for me. I cannot let them down more than I have. I don't deserve to cry.

I closed my eyes, trying to sense another presence in these chambers. Nothing. All the training and studying of Yevon's teachings to prepare my mind and soul for the summoning really didn't explain the mechanics of what the summoning entails. Only that "only the faithful can become one with the fayth." My heart was starting to race in panic. What if I am not deemed worthy by the fayth? I can't let down Lulu, Wakka Kimahri, the villagers of Besaid Island, and entire population of Spira! The people we have lost. My father.

Please, I begged the silent stone carving in front of me.

Please.

Still nothing.

A single warm, traitorous tear ran down my cheek. I bit my lip hard as they started to tremble. I hated every inch of myself. My weakness. Tears began to flow in earnest now, my cheeks were immediately damp as my internal walls began to crumble.

I'm so sorry, everyone.

A dim light shone in front of me, steadying brightening the chamber. I stifled a gasp, looking up through my lashes. The glow was hovering over the fayth, too bright for my eyes to make out what it was. As it slowly entered my body, I felt warmer. I felt hopeful.

"Valefore." I whispered, not knowing what propelled me to say that, but knowing there is a significance to the name. "Thank you."

Staggering up, the full extent of the fatigue hit every inch of my body, hard. I blinked rapidly, coaxing myself to move, one movement at a time. Kimahri. One step. Lulu. Another step. Wakka. I reached the door of the chamber, the two heavy slabs parting slowly. My ears were starting to ring now. I couldn't differentiate the ringing in my ear to the distinct jingles of the ornaments on my obi, even though I tried to cling on to their chimes. They were all that my mother had left me, and were the only thing keeping me conscious right now.

I closed my eyes, the blurring colours too much to take in. I was moving on pure instinct now. My knees were starting to shake. I felt myself fall forwards, my body too tired to brace for impact, my heart too fatigued to beat faster. I collided with a soft, furry wall. Large, familiar, strong hands rested on my shoulders, steadying me. I took a deep breath, taking in the reassuring scent.

"Kimahri." I whispered. Grateful for his patience and presence.

I could feel him nod his head in understanding. Steadying me back on my feet, he stood next to me, close enough to provide more support if needed, but also giving me independence. He knew me too well.

Growing up, I hated appearing weak and needing protection. When I first arrived in Besaid, all the priests and elders fawned over me. The High Summoner Braska's only daughter. Orphaned. I know they pitied me. But I pitied them. Fear was permanently etched into their faces. Each wrinkle tells of fear. This is the way so many people in Spira lived. Yevon had united the people. Yevon had provided comfort to the people. But I know that true comfort is a world without Sin. They were surprised when I said I wanted to walk my father's path. "My dear, you've already had enough hardship for two lifetimes. Stay in Besaid. Find comfort in Yevon," they had told me. But who would walk this path then? I didn't want to be like the people who simply put their head into the sand. Hoping will not vanquish Sin. As I grew older I really struggled with Yevon's logic. Sin is the penance for our sins. Sin will disappear with proper atonement. I hate not having a clear direction. It made me feel helpless. I hate the beast that killed my father being able to wander Spira again, when my father can no longer. I have to do something.

I could feel my guardian's eyes on me, holding their breath in anticipation. Everyone was scared to ask the question.

I stood up straight, dusting off my long, pleated skirt, and pulling my hair back. As I opened my eyes, I took in their concerned gazes. I was vaguely aware, and was surprised by, a pair of foreign blue eyes, and an equally unfamiliar blond hair man.

"I have done it!" I cried, pride in my voice. "I have become a Summoner!"

My voice echoed around the chamber. I heard my guardians let out a sigh of relief.

Relief. And disappointment.

Lulu and Wakka engulfed me in a tight embrace at once. This embrace was different to the usual, parental embrace. Lulu stroked my hair, blinking the tears from her scarlet irises. This was a rare tear from the mage. Wakka was unusually speechless, his hold on me not loosening. Kimahri was silent, his eyes on the ground.

Again, relief, and unspoken disappointment.

"Yuna, this is what you really want ya?" Wakka murmured. He sounded older than I could ever remember. I half expected Lulu's harsh rebuke: Really, are you dense Wakka? But she remained silent, although the hand that stroked my hair stopped in mid air. I could sense Kimahri turn his head towards me.

"I am a Summoner now." I whispered into Wakka's strong arms, resolve in my destiny. I know that although my guardians had prayed in earnest for my success, a part of them had secretly wished for my failure. Failure meant that the fayth had rejected me. Failure meant no pilgrimage. Failure meant no Final Summoning.

Failure meant that I can live.

As I left the dimly lit temple, I held my head high at the crowd that had gathered in the courtyard. This was rare glory for the island. Summoners were a rare sight in Besaid. Summoners from Besaid were even more so. Of course, we have had visiting Summoners on pilgrimages, but you could tell that this remote seaside village was not their first choice of destination. Most tend to come here for their pilgrimage only, then board the next ferry out. Summoners were revered. But to them the villagers were simple minded peasants, who know only their quiet lifestyle revolving around their vegetable farms, fish they catch in their nets, and the fabrics they weave.

The Temple of Besaid was the most under maintained, under-funded temple of Spira. We had only just received the statue of High Summoner Braska – my father – ten years after he had departed this world. Sin had returned before I could seek comfort from his face chiseled into the stone. The priests and priestesses work around the clock to ensure that the temple was in a state that was available for the villagers, as it was their only solace from their fear of Sin. I helped out when I could, whether by sweeping the quiet corridors, or polishing the statues. The Aurochs did most of the grunt work such as repairing the leaking roofs, or trimming the overgrown hedges.

Youths were also in diminishing supply in Besaid. Some emigrate to busy cities, like Luca or Bevelle, in search of a change in pace (I would often describe Besaid as a slow, sleepy city myself), or just for security. The Crusaders put their lives on the line to ensure that Luca and Bevelle never fall to Sin. There have been some close calls, but not wide scale devastations like other little villages. The Crusaders were also becoming an increasing appealing alternative for hot headed youths determined to take down Sin. Some, like me, are becoming disenchanted in a religion and way of life that offers no practical solutions to our predicament. One thousand years of atonement, five High Summoners and millions of civilians sacrificed so far. And counting.

"Ready!" Wakka called as I approached the middle of the crowded courtyard. The villages held their breath.

I smiled, holding out my staff in demonstration. The crowd understood, and immediately silence resounded. I closed my eyes. This will be my very first summon. I called out to the warmth that found me in the Chamber of the Fayth. Valefore. You had given me relief. Hope. The courage to start my pilgrimage. Please allow me to thank you in person.

A breeze swept past, the bells on my obi chimed. The crowd gasped.

A great, winged beast glided towards me. I couldn't describe him. Majestic. Strong. But also, kindness.

I swallowed any ounce of fear I may have had, and rested my hand tenderly on the beast's beck. An unspoken moment passed between the two of us: human and beast, summoner and aeon, mortal and deity.

This pilgrimage will be based on mutual trust. I have yet another guardian to rely on, and to protect.

That night, we had a celebration. The Aurochs gathered driftwood and made a bonfire while the fishermen grilled their best catches of the day for the entire village.

People kept congratulating me. The elders wished me a safe journey, and that I would bring the calm soon, as my father had done in the past.

Kimahri kept his usual protective stance next to me. Wakka and Lulu kept a polite distance away from the elders – I guess they did not see the beginning of my pilgrimage as a reason of celebration as did the villagers. I was unsure of how I should respond to their praise and reverence, so I kept my head down. I made my way through the crowd, nodding and smiling, though I desperately wished to be back in my bedchambers and away from the crowd.

"Hey Yuna." Wakka called, walking towards me, Lulu following closely. "Are you ready for tomorrow? I know you girls usually pack a lot, ya?" He sat down next to me, and I felt like Yuna again, young and carefree under the care of Wakka and Lulu, for the first time tonight.

Lulu sighed loud and theatrical, a typical retort to Wakka.

"You're one to talk, Wakka. You're the one with the detour in our plans. None of us wanted to go to Luca, lest to watch you play blitzball of all things." Contrasting her stern and sarcastic tone was a smile. I guess there was an unspoken truce between my usual bickering guardians to keep the peace for my sake tonight.

"We're going to Luca?" My hands clapped together in excitement. The busy city of Spira. Although Bevelle was larger by far, many locals preferred Luca over Bevelle's religious rules. I have always wanted to see the modern city people compared to the ancient city of Zanarkand.

"Yeah I, uh, have decided to give the Cup another go this year. I thought, I'd just give it a final go, ya?" Wakka scratched his head sheepishly. I know that blitzball meant a lot to him, as much as my pilgrimage meant to me but it did not discount his loyalty to me. "Chappu would have wanted it." He looked away, and I could hear Lulu's sharp intake of breath.

Chappu. Wakka's younger brother. My childhood friend. Lulu's lover.

Taken away much before his time. Taken away by Sin.

I rested my hand on his, knowing that the wound was still fresh. It has only been a year since Chappu's crushed remains were found alone on the shores on the Djose beach, clutching an Al Bhed machina weapon. To this day, Wakka blamed the Al Bhed for luring Chappu away from the safety of his brother's reach, and Lulu blamed Wakka for not letting go.

"I'll cheer you guys on, Wakka. Go Aurochs!"

Wakka smiled, a flash of excitement in his eyes. "Thanks Yuna. I know we'll do well this year! We have the best Summoner to support us, ya? And we have my secret weapon." He grinned towards the team huddled by the fire.

Secret weapon? I tilted my head in thought. No offence to Wakka, or any of the Aurochs, as they have been staples in my life, irreplaceable like brothers, or fathers, but when it came to blitzball, they were terrible! I could hardly keep up with the fast pace, but even I could tell that they were out of their league.

"Yeah! Him, right there!" he nods to a blond hair stranger sitting by the fire. The stranger I saw in the Cloister of Trials.

"You never did explain who that man is, breaking the rules and breaking into the temple. He could have caused a lot of trouble for Yuna." Lulu scolded, looking towards the stranger as well, a crease between her brows in distaste.

"Well about that…" Wakka scratched his head again, avoiding Lulu's sharp glares, "I did tell him it was against the rules, but I guess we were both really worried about Yuna at the time, and it sort of happened really quickly, ya?"

That piqued my curiosity. Not everyone would break into a Temple of Yevon, lest though the Cloister of Trials. The people of Spira have treated Yevon as more than a religion. It was a way of life. To disregard the rules, under any circumstance, was rare indeed. He definitely was not from Besaid.

Lulu continued to glare, interrogating the beads of sweat that were forming on Wakka's forehead. I was surprising grateful, wanting to know more about this stranger.

"Well, he's really good at blitz, ya. You should have seen him down at the beach! But I think Sin has gotten to him, he's a bit weird, says a lot of strange things. But I couldn't just leave him ya, he looks so much like …" Wakka stopped himself in time before he could mention the name again.

"Sin has gotten to him?" Lulu queried, skepticism written all over her face. She was also determined to move the conversation away from Chappu again.

"Yeah. He's convinced he's from Zanarkand. Crazy, ya?"

Zanarkand.

The ancient modern machina city. Destroyed a thousand years ago.

Someone very important to me came from that city. No one around him believed him, except for me and my father.

I looked towards the fire again, imprinting the blond spikes into my eyes.

That man is from Zanarkand.

I wanted to meet him, to talk to him.

"Sin's toxin?" Lulu queried, disbelief prominently on her hard features.

Wakka quivered under her scrutiny as usual.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You think so? And yet you bring him into the village? Who knows if he is in the right state of mind. Saying something as farfetched like you're from the sacred ruins of Zanarkand is enough to get anyone in trouble. This is the last thing Yuna needs right now."

The elders came and sat next to me, prompting Lulu and Wakka to politely say their goodbyes and wander off, sparing Wakka from Lulu's interrogation. I resumed my doll like responses, trying to find interest in their stories but finding none. My mind was stuck in Zanarkand.

I believed the stranger, just as my father did. A sense of déjà vu engulfed me. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I was really following in my father's footsteps. I could think of no higher honour than to be able to do so.

"Stay away from the Summoner!" The old lady next to me called. I looked up, and saw that the stranger was close by. His gaze was on me. My heart skipped a beat.

"You're a bad man!" A small boy, Reez, resting next to me called, sensing the stranger's interest in me.

I got up and walked towards him, and the village elders gasped.

"Lady Yuna, be careful!"

"But it was my fault to begin with." I gave them what I hoped was a reassuring smile. Internally, I was pleading that they would not follow me. The elders were either satisfied with my response, or despised the stranger more than I had thought, allowing me to walk towards him in peace.

Mentally, I practiced my greetings in my mind. I could feel the sweat on my palms, my ears were reddening. I was nervous. There were so many things I wanted to ask him. "I'm Yuna. Thank you so much for your help earlier."

Yevon, I hope I sounded casual. I hope my face is not as red as it feels.

He absentmindedly scratched the back of his head, looking unsure and embarrassed, contrasting his confident appearance. "I'm sorry about that. Wasn't that... Wasn't I not supposed to... Guess I kind of overreacted."

His apology threw me back. He looked at me cautiously, as if I was a fragile and delicate doll, and that I would fall apart any minute. Guess first impressions stick, and I was brought back to my struggles in the Chamber of the Fayth. I felt embarrassed at my weakness, my mind wondering just how disheveled I looked as I left the chamber.

"Oh no, I was…overconfident." I mumbled.

He looked taken back at my sudden gloom. I could hear the shame in my voice as well, causing the awkwardness.

"Um, I saw that aeon thing. That's amazing!"

My head shot up. I did not foresee how much his encouragement would mean. I felt warm. Just like I did when I gained Valefore's trust in me.

"Really, do you think I can become a High Summoner?"

I had not spoken to anyone about the fear and doubt that has plagued my pilgrimage. My biggest fear was not the end of my journey – my death – but failure and disappointment to my father and guardians. I have always thought the Yuna they had placed faith in and are willing to give up their lives for, was very different to the Yuna I know: weak, lost, and unsure of herself.

He nods, and I felt I could believe it.

I wanted to speak to him some more. To ask him about Zanarkand. To ask him about what he thought of Spira.

"Lady Yuna, come play with me some more." Reez called again. Such inopportune timing.

Reluctantly, I nodded my head and slowly got up. "So, tomorrow, then." I was surprised at my disappointment.

"Tomorrow?" He sounded confused. I was scared for a second. Did I misunderstand Wakka? Was this stranger not joining us?

"We're going on the same boat, aren't we?"

"Oh, really?" It really was a genuine question. He didn't sound relieved to be travelling with me, as I was with him. I tried hard to not think about what that means.

"We can talk more. You can tell me all about Zanarkand!" That was the last thing I said to him as I walked off. The blond hair stranger made no attempt to stop me, even though I took my time, and grew more reluctant with every step.

As I resumed my position by the fire, I sneaked a glance at him, hoping to meet his eyes. That would mean we were looking at each other, right? Maybe I could make up another excuse to talk to him? But I was wrong. He was engrossed in conversation with a couple of girls my age, who were giggling and blushing at his words. I could hear his laughter as he huddled closer to them. I looked away and at the burning ember, wondering why I felt suffocated.

Today, I earnt the right to embark on my journey. Today, I earnt the right to end my life in glory as a High Summoner. My life starts counting down from today.

I should be happy, right?

But the evening ended the same way my first conversation with him did. Dull. Unsatisfying. It left me wanting more. I didn't even get a chance to ask his name. The last time I saw him, he was walking away, back towards the village, his arms around one of the girls he was laughing with.

They say that the dreams you have can sometimes foreshadow what will happen on your voyage. Wise travelers would use this as a sign and amend their preparations accordingly. I wonder what my dear father had dreamt of the night before he left Bevelle, and me, forever. If only I could consult him on how to decipher my dream.

The blond stranger was a prominent feature in my dream. But just as he was in reality, in my dream he did not seem the least bit interested at me at all. In contrast, I was surprised by the detail that I remembered of him. Tidal blue eyes. Sun kissed hair and skin. Masculine arms and legs.

Why did I memorize these details? Why was I mesmerized by this stranger?

Growing up, I had to adjust to life on Besaid Island, which was completely different to life in Bevelle, quickly. Strangers come and go from my life. Different summoners, or Yevon officials. Crusaders off on patrol and never returning. This was the first time that a stranger I have never meet before lingered more than necessary in my mind.

Zanarkand. He was from Zanarkand. That must be it.

The stranger I met today may be a blessing. He may be able to help me find the person I have been searching for.

A boy no older than eight entered my dream. His shoulders were small, frail and shaking. He was crying again. I was told he did this quite frequently. His blond locks hung delicately from his head and I, as I have done many times in my dream, gently stroked his head, like a mother would.

This was the boy I dreamt about almost every day since my father left on his pilgrimage. This was the boy I felt I had a connection to. This boy was one the factors that fueled my passion for my pilgrimage. This boy was Sir Jecht, one of my father's guardian's son. I dreamt of going to Zanarkand. I dreamt of meeting him. The boy who would live the same fate as me. Orphaned. Lonely. The hopes and dreams of his fallen parent on his frail shoulders.

I wanted to go to Zanarkand. I was convinced I will find more than the rubbles the Yevon readings described. I wanted to find him, Sir Jecht's boy. I wanted to hold on to him, wipe the tears from his face. I wanted to tell him that everything would be alright. I wanted to see him grown up to a respectable adult in the world our father gave up their lives for, and carry out any wishes Sir Jecht may have had.

Sir Jecht was very important to me. Even though, I had only spent a short while with him, the night before my father embarked on his journey. I could feel the assurance he radiates. I felt I could entrust my father to him. Sir Auron, my father's other guardian, and almost godfather to me in a way, had differing views and I can see his argument. I admit, my first impressions of Sir Jecht were unkind: drunk, hostile, and coarse. Before agreeing to become my father's guardian, Sir Jecht was in a Bevelle jail cell for being drunk and a public nuisance. He publicly proclaimed to be from Zanarkand, a sacred, ancient city, left in ruins for a thousand years. He and Sir Auron bickered all the way back to our residence in the Temple of Bevelle, and some more as my father did some last minute packing. Sir Auron then stormed off as he could take no more of the confrontation, leaving me with this reluctant guardian.

"You Braska's girl?" He barked, his voice as gruff as his appearance.

I was frightened to the core, shaking as I nodded my head.

He gave a short laugh at my reaction. "You have a name?"

"Y-Y-Yuna, sir."

"You seem pretty young. About eight or nine?"

"S-seven."

He gave a small melancholic smile. "Seven? Nearly his age." His tired eyes meet mine. "My boy is eight." He explained. "A bit taller than you. Probably just as scrawny. Never could throw a blitzball properly, doesn't have his old man's genes." He chuckled at the insult, but I could tell the jest was not malicious in nature. Affection almost.

"There was still so much left to teach him. They grow up so quickly. Hope I don't miss out on much." He whispered and looked away. I recognized the look on his face. Affection. Sadness. Regret. The same emotions were also permanently etched into my father's features. The sign of a concerned parent.

I sat down next to him, my legs folder under my arms. I instantly trusted him. In his honour. In his story. "What is Zanarkand like?" I asked.

He chuckled. "You're the first person to believe me, kid."

I shook my head. "My father does, too. I can tell."

He laughed louder. "Yes, I noticed that Braska is a bit of an oddball. Better that than an uptight jerk like that other guy."

I smiled despite myself. "Sir Auron is a very kind man."

"Yeah, kind. Kind of a jerk." Was his response, before he burst into laughter, mine echoing into his shortly after. Afterwards, he told me all about Zanarkand. His life in Zanarkand before it took a dramatic turn. His family. His city. A city covered in lights and never sleeps. An unimaginable city where machina dominates. There were no chocobo carriages or Shoopuffs, there were metal and mechanical vessels instead. And within this busy city was a little boy called Tidus, that surely was also missing his father.

I woke up, tears running down my cheeks.

Tomorrow, I will try again, with this stranger from Zanarkand.

He might be my only chance to meet that boy, Tidus.

The breaking dawn showed a promise of a new day. I gathered the various offerings I had prepared for the temple priests – silk and shell jewelry that I had made myself. Those were disposable. Meaningless even. Taking one last look at the bedchamber that had been my sanctuary for the past ten years, I was surprised at the lack of sorrow my heart has shown. I was not leaving anything meaningful behind. My most treasured possessions were on me at all times. The bells on my obi that once belonged to my mother. The silver hibiscus pendant necklace Lulu, Wakka and Chappu bought for me for a ridiculous sum of gill from a travelling merchant – it was seven years' worth of birthday presents, they had said. My blue and gold beaded earing that Kimahri had made for me, the beads taken off his sacred amulet. It was amazing to think that he weaved the threads together himself. The blood that runs through my veins. My father's blood. His courage that I had inherited.

Those were invaluable and irreplaceable.

I walked out onto the courtyard. The sky was clear blue, the vivid blueness a little perplexing. It reminded me of that stranger's eyes. My guardians and the stranger were all waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. Guess Wakka meant it when he said that we'll be together in every step of the journey. My mind was preoccupied with what would happen next, I couldn't really follow the conversation between my guardians, it was something about my luggage.

My first step out of the village, for good. I tried stopped myself from looking back at my home. Looking back was dangerous. Sentiment could not stop my pilgrimage, I know that, but I did not want to risk it.

We had kept walking, past the hills that overlooked the entire village, and I could see some of the children play. In their carefree smiles I saw myself, Wakka, Lulu and Chappu, as children. As the memories swelled up, a sense of nostalgia and longing. I truly will miss this island. But I have taken the best part of my childhood with me: my makeshift family.

"Let's get going, man!" The stranger impatiently called. I could feel Lulu drill her cold, scarlet eyes into the stranger's back. If looks can kill, then the stranger ought to be in a heap of pain.

"We're gonna wait." Wakka shot him a stern look, and as he turned back towards me, his gaze softened.

I know what he was thinking.

This was going to be last time I get to see my village.

Every step I took was towards my death. I should have the right to at least savor the last bit of nostalgia.

I looked at the stranger. His eyes were gleaming with excitement at the prospect of the journey, like an adventurer. Free from attachment. Was he not leaving anyone behind? The girl he spent the night with? He cares not about the past, just about the future. I wished to be more like him. I have to be stronger if I am to be worthy of following my father's footsteps.

Up the customary hills with the statue, I prayed piously, along with Wakka and Lulu. I have watched travelers, merchants and Crusaders pray to this statue, for a safe voyage. It was a special feeling, to be praying for my own journey. I was surprised as I watched the stranger kneel and pray. His movements were surprisingly genuine and fluid, as if he prayed to Yevon his whole life. But that can't be. Sir Jecht mentioned that Yevon did not exist in Zanarkand.

As we got to the beach, a crowd had gathered around the ferry as expected. Young and old. The entire village was here. The villagers all bowed at me. I could feel the magnitude of their hopes. It was a moment that I struggle to explain with words. I was honoured to carry this burden. I was honoured that they deemed me worthy. No one mentioned the obvious. No one wished me a "safe journey".

What could you say to someone who volunteered to be sacrificed in exchange for a couple of years of calm? It was the ultimate contradiction. Your feelings for them, and your safety.

I felt considerably better when I boarded the S. . It felt as if the weight has lessened somewhat. As well as goodbyes went, that went pretty well, I guess. I did not like saying goodbyes, and having goodbyes said to me. Goodbyes always reminded me of seeing my father's retreating figure as he walked down the bridge out of Bevelle the last time, his head held high. But as I waved to Reez as he ran down the dock to catch up with the sailing ferry, I couldn't help the tear that rolled down my eyes.

"Goodbye." I whispered.

AN: Please let me know what you all think!