"That gate was always locked, and Valjean left the garden untended in order that it might not attract notice. In this, perhaps, he was mistaken."

- Book Three: The House in the Rue Plumet, II: Jean Valjean – Garde Nationale

Les Misérables – Victor Hugo

CHAPTER THREE: A Whistle

Tidus

There were times when Tidus looked at his so-called father, and no matter how deep inside himself he searched, found nothing but bitterness.

This was one of those times.

Tidus had woken to the faint sound of Blitzball commentators ringing in his ears, and assumed he must have been dreaming about the upcoming tournament. Wakka had been driving them hard lately; From now on, you're going to eat, sleep and drink Blitzball, he'd told the team at the beginning of the month, inducing a chorus of groans.

But as Tidus sleepily neared the living-room with the commentators still chattering away, he realised it was the ViewSphere he had heard.

Around the corner was a truly pitiful sight; his sorry excuse for an old man was sprawled on the sofa, arms and legs jutting outward at awkward angles. A beer bottle had fallen from his outstretched hand and was leaking onto the carpet.

If he isn't drinking himself senseless in some seedy C-South bar, he just does it in his own home.

Tidus picked up the beer bottle, the same way he'd done a hundred times before. He stepped carefully so as not to wake up his old man - or his wrath. When he moved to turn the ViewSphere off he found himself strangely drawn into the game instead, making himself comfortable to watch the last few minutes.

His father had hundreds of Blitzball games like these recorded on Spheres. It would often drive Tidus out of the house, the way his father watched the same games over and over again with fierce obsession. What exactly he was looking for was more than Tidus could discern. Unless maybe it's his lost dignity. Sometimes Tidus thought that his old man was so caught up in the past, he was no longer aware of what was happening in the present.

Tidus studied the Jecht of old on the ViewSphere with an almost morbid fascination. The contrast would astound anybody. His father was in his prime then; healthy, youthful, full of ambition and enthusiasm and arrogance. Everyone always commented on how proud he must be to have "the great Jecht" for a father. Well, Tidus was sure he didn't know any "great Jecht." All he knew was this drunken failure, lying on some couch in all his unconscious glory. Here he is. Here's your "Great Jecht", the Almighty Alcoholic. What a hero…

He was glad atleast his friends knew the truth, and were smart enough never to broach the subject.

Naturally, the followers of "the great Jecht" had been devastated when their idol had taken a grave injury to the knee, rendering him unable to resume his Blitzball career. Tidus himself was unsure of the origin of the injury; only that it had occurred ten years ago, shortly after his mother's death, when his father took a trip around Spira. From the way Jecht carried himself, you would never guess that he'd taken a serious injury; despite his insistent drinking he seemed as strong and robust as ever. Infact, if Tidus didn't know any better, he would have sworn his old man was faking the whole thing.

Jecht wouldn't answer any questions about the nature of his trip ten years ago, snapping when anyone even made a reference to it. Frankly, Tidus didn't care what the hell his father had been doing on the trip, he only cared that his father had decided to take his little vacation so soon after his mother's death. I was only seven. As much as Tidus hated to admit it, he could really have used his father's support back then.

When he was growing up, Tidus used to think about running away, and would spend days wondering whether his father would even come after him. But he had never mustered the courage to actually find out.

In the deepest pockets of his memory, he thought he could remember a time when his relationship with his father had been better, closer. But after his Blitzball career had come to an abrupt end, everything seemed to change…

"Wow, folks," chuckled the commentator in the Sphere, to the sound of wild applause and cheering, "I think we can count that as another victory the Zanarkand Abes owe to the one and only Jecht…"

Tidus switched off the ViewSphere, and went to Blitzball practise.

Auron

Auron had missed that smile.

Three weeks had passed since they arrived in the city of lights, and Yuna seemed to be adapting to life here beautifully. Each turn of the corner held a veritable fascination for her, every passer-by was an exotic stranger, each building a whole kingdom to explore.

He and Yuna regularly ventured into the city together, and each day he arranged a new spectacle for her – a trip to the Old Yevon temple, to the botanical gardens, and most recently, to the Machina museum. Even more often, to Yuna's evident delight, they would stop to listen to the troubadours and dancers in the street and he would give her some gil to leave at their feet.

Auron watched with a quiet relief as Yuna's sad eyes were made bright again by the wonders unravelling before her. Not only that, but Zanarkand seemed to have mended their relationship too; Yuna confided in him all her first impressions of the great city and asked him shrewd questions when she stumbled upon technology she did not understand. She appeared infinitely happy to hang from his arm and chatter softly to him.

Yuna had never been one to seek the company of her peers in Besaid, which had been a guilty comfort for her Guardian. After all, there were many different kinds of people in Spira, as he had learned ten years ago, to his sorrow. And Yuna is so trusting she isn't like to know the difference between a Samaritan and a street thief.

However, recognising the need for a female confidant in her life, Auron had hired a maid to replace Belgemine, Yuna's old Besaidian teacher. Besides taking care of Yuna's needs – her clothes and such-like, Shelinda also kept the house immaculate and had proven to be an apt cook. Auron had chosen carefully; the young woman was an ex-Acolyte, and therefore not likely to be a bad influence on Yuna in any way. He had told Shelinda that Yuna was the Lady of the house, and to obey her in all things, though he chose not to confide that particular fact in Yuna.

Their house itself was a good find. It was situated in B-North Zanarkand, a wealthy area, yet still quiet enough to suit his tastes. Mindful of Yuna's love for the feel of green grass beneath her bare feet, he had hoped to acquire a garden for her, and to his satisfaction, had found a residence with two. There was a spacious backyard and a scruffy wild garden with a wrought iron gate that looked out onto the street, allowing his little dreamer to gaze to her heart's content.

Perhaps Yuna's happiness was rubbing off on him, because Auron found that even he was enjoying the sensation of being a part of life again. Over the weeks, his "musty old books", as Yuna fondly called them, were replaced with piles of Spiran newspapers. Their pages were teeming with prejudice, of course, each one highly biased towards either New Yevon or the Youth League, and plastered with propaganda. But there were some notices of worth to be found, too.

Such as the increasing rogue fiend problem, on the outskirts of the city and in the more remote areas just outside Zanarkand.

The remnants of the Crusaders, now a force full of ex-Yevonites and Al Bhed, were rooting out the remaining fiends that Sin left behind, as well as the ones created anew each day by Unsent spirits. However, the number of their warriors was growing smaller by the day. People were more interested in politics in these peaceful days; more attracted by paper than by swords. With no more need for Guardians, the arts of black magic and of swordsmanship are dying out, it seems. It made Auron wonder whether he might not be able to do something to help. His skills with a katana were as sharp as ever, and as a boy he had entertained a fierce admiration for Lord Mi'hen, founder of the Crusaders. There is no harm in inquiring.

He told Yuna as much when they broke their fast that morning, and was relieved to find she thought it a wonderful idea.

"Father," she began. "If you are going to inquire about work, I wonder… might you look into… well…"

Auron lowered his newspaper. "What is it, Yuna?"

"Sendings," she confessed. "I know we're not in Besaid anymore, and that I didn't really finish my training, but Belgemine said… well, she said that I didn't need to, that I had the talent all along." Yuna blushed modestly at that, and cast her blue and green eyes downwards. "She said it was in my blood."

"In your blood." Did she indeed? Auron reflected. How much did that old woman know?

"I'm sure they must request Sendings here in Zanarkand, too," Yuna continued. "I would still like to continue to do my duty to Spira… if that is okay with you, father."

Auron watched her with a protective tenderness as she bowed her head and awaited his reply. He admired her bravery and was proud of her dedication to her cause. To continue to do her duty to Spira. Did you hear that, Braska?

"Yuna. You should have told me earlier," he chided gently. "Of course you shall continue them, if that is your wish."

"Thankyou, father!" She favoured him with a beaming smile and even blew him a kiss across the table.

Auron smiled back before returning his attention to his newspaper, having been inspired to promptly pursue Yuna's inquiries… and his own. After all, I have a duty to Spira, too.

Yuna

She adored the little garden from the moment she set foot in it. Its wildness was its charm, so she made no effort to tidy it; she did, however, add to it devotedly. Infact, Yuna dedicated many a sunny Zanarkand morning to planting and tending her hibiscus blossoms, whose seedlings Auron had obtained at her request.

The hibiscus had been her favourite flower ever since her father explained to her that the little silver flower dangling from her necklace was one. She had owned the necklace since before she could remember. Her father insisted that he could not recall the its origin, so Yuna liked to pretend her mother had given it to her. Or maybe it even belonged to her…

When she wasn't tending her flowers, or out walking with her father, she liked nothing more than to stand at the garden gates, watching the people of Zanarkand go about their daily lives. Her eyes would dart keenly between the assorted passers-by as she filled her head with made-up storied about their destinations. Perhaps they were going to dine in the highest room in the tallest tower, or to dance under the lights of the most brightly-lit streets, or best of all, to watch a Blitzball game in the great stadium.

It was during one of these religious observations of the outside world that Yuna saw the Zanarkand youth for the second time.

She was not entirely to blame for the incident; he was the kind of person who drew the eye easily. Standing in the shelter of the garden, she contemplated the boy's ostentatious Blitzball outfit and spiked golden hair for several minutes before it dawned on her.

That's him, the boy who helped me!

Yuna thought she had forgotten him these past three weeks, but taking in the charming features of his face brought everything rushing back – the smiling blue eyes, the easy grin… before she knew what she was doing, she had brought her fingers to her lips and whistled with all her might.

It had the desired effect. The golden-haired youth stopped abruptly in the street, his athletic frame turning slowly before finally turned slowly and locking on to her figure at last. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but Yuna thought he looked a little confused, if anything. For a moment she wanted to hide. Yuna, what have you done? He doesn't even remember you, she scolded herself. What will you say to him?

The boy's companion – a brawny, red-headed man – nudged his friend in the side, grinning and murmuring something that Yuna was too far away to hear.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest when he finally approached her. She grasped the wrought-iron bars of the garden gates tightly, squeezing them so hard she thought she might bruise her hands, and tried to think of an excuse for whistling.

"Hello," she finally uttered, when he was close enough for Yuna to see every feature on his face. She tried to say something else, but for some dreadful reason the words wouldn't come.

The look he returned to her was more curious than confused, and he offered hesitantly, "Look, I don't mean to sound rude but… do I know you?"

"I met you in the side-street that day - do you remember?" she blurted in broken sentences, so desperate for him not to dismiss her. "You helped me find my way back to the bank."

His eyes widened.

"Yes," she said, as though admitting to a crime. "It's me." She locked her hands behind her back, the same way she always did when she was nervous.

"Well whaddya know…" He shook his head in disbelief, then flashed her a smile finally. "Hey, how are you doing? Please don't tell me you're lost in there," he quipped.

"No," she laughed shyly, bashfulness replacing panic in the face of his handsome smile. "This is my new house."

"New house, huh?" The boy lifted his head to study her surroundings, as if weighing their worth for himself. Then he wrapped each of his hands around the wrought iron bars of the garden gates, and gave them a small shake, testing them. There was almost an air of arrogance in him, but he was not malicious. It seemed an innocent sort of arrogance, if that were even possible, only endearing him to Yuna even more.

"Thankyou so much for your help before," she said, eager to draw his attention. It had been so long since she had talked with someone her own age that Yuna found herself hanging on his every word.

"No problem," he replied confidently. "Hey, so was your old man mad at you?"

"A little," she winced, and dispelled the memory with a quick shake of her head.

"So what do you think of Zanarkand so far?"

"Oh, it's amazing!" she exclaimed sincerely. "I've been to see the botanical gardens, the Machina museum… oh, let me see… and the old Yevon temple – it was so beautifully lit! Oh! And once, father and I watched a parade down the street. There were dancers and singers with the most beautiful outfits I've ever seen, in colours that I don't think they even have back in Besaid!" She was speaking too fast again, she knew. Perhaps it was to do with her subconscious desperation to make herself interesting before this exotic stranger walked out of her life forever.

But the boy didn't look bored at all – on the contrary, he was smiling at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you like it so much! Have you seen our Blitzball stadium yet?"

As giddy as Yuna had felt mere seconds ago, at the mention of the stadium a feeling of helplessness washed over her being as sudden as a tidal wave. If only he knew. She wanted to see the Blitzball stadium more than anything… but not all her dreams were surmountable. "The great stadium," she murmured. "All lit up at night."

He laughed. "That's the one!"

She smiled sadly. "You're a Blitzball Player, aren't you?"

"Am I a Blitzball player?" he repeated in tones of mock-astonishment. "You're only looking at the star player of the Zanarkand Abes!"

She was about to ask if he played there often, but her question was cut in half when a voice sounded somewhere behind them. "Hey, Romeo! Enough with the flirting, ya! Practise started ten minutes ago!"

His Blitzball teammate, she realised. To Yuna's satisfaction, her new friend looked slightly pestered by the interruption.

"I apologise for my friend the slavedriver over there," the boy complained, and she giggled in response. He sighed, and drove his fingers through his beautiful golden hair. "Listen, I have to go to practise now… but now that I know where you've been hiding all this time, maybe I can come by again."

"Of course!" she cried, a little too enthusiastically. She tried for a calm composure instead, and said in her most serious voice, "I'm here most days."

He nodded, his blue eyes filled with laughter. "It was nice to see you again… uh…"

"Yuna," she offered shyly.

He smiled softly. "Yuna… that's kinda pretty. I'm Tidus."

It was the last time Yuna ever had to work at bringing him to her gates.

From that day, Tidus always made time to stop by her garden gates to talk with her, time enough to exchange a few rushed, friendly words, whether for a few brief moments or the length of an entire afternoon. Yuna, too, kept her promise, and waited there for him every day, putting down her books or her seedlings or any other task she had to hand the moment she heard the warmth of his voice calling to her.

Some days he would only have time to wave at her as he sprinted past the gate in a late frenzy, but she found herself rescheduling her walks with her father, just so she could be there to wave back.

Even in that wholly innocent exchange of hand gestures, Yuna felt a flush of happiness, knowing that she had her first friend here.

Tidus

"Why did you choose to come to Zanarkand, Yuna?"

He was leaning against a small corner formed by Yuna's garden gates and the jutting brick wall they were built into, while Yuna knelt in the green grass opposite him, her deep blue skirts fanned out over her knees.

The harsh, black iron gates of her garden were all that separated them. Because Tidus was sitting outside Yuna's garden rather than inside it with her, people often gave them lingering looks as they passed. Tidus didn't care, of course, and made sure everyone knew it by arranging himself in the most leisurely position possible.

It had been a little over a week since he had first glimpsed her standing there, looking so lost and desolate. At first he had taken pity on her, calling on her every day to try and hearten her spirits, the same way he might try to raise morale in the Zanarkand Abes. But over the past week, he had begun to discover that she was actually a pretty interesting girl, and had come to look forward to the brief moments they spent together.

Tidus supposed he shouldn't really be surprised; she was from the other side of Spira, after all, and he had only ever travelled as far as Luca. Yuna was a veritable treasure trove of stories about worlds apart from his. And while lost and desolate she sometimes appeared, she was also startlingly pretty. The girls of Zanarkand had a brash, bold way of presenting themselves, but Yuna's movements had a shy, graceful femininity to them. Who's the princess? Wakka had commented to him, when they first saw her slight form standing alone in the garden.

"Why I chose Zanarkand…" She glanced at him timidly from the corner of her eye. "You'll think it's silly."

"I won't," he promised. "Tell me."

Yuna sighed. "Someone once told me when I was very small, 'In Zanarkand, there is a great stadium, all lit up even at night. Great blitzball tournaments are held there, and the stands are always full." Ever since then, I wanted to see for myself." She glanced up at him sheepishly. "I know it's foolish, but-"

"No it's not," he interrupted. "Yevon, Yuna, you're allowed to have dreams. And it's worth the hype – the stadium, I mean. You'll see. Who's in your team, Yuna?"

"My… I beg your pardon?"

"Your team," he repeated. "Your Blitz team? Who do you support? Please don't tell me it's the Luca Goers," he joked. "Hey, wait, does Besaid have a Blitz team?"

"You've heard of Besaid…?" she asked, looking at him strangely.

It took him a few moments to realise why. Oh shit. I told her before I'd never heard of it, didn't I? What was it Lulu had said? "Besaid. It's a small island in the far south of Spira, a little to the… uh… west, right?"

Yuna looked amused. No wonder, I totally sounded like I was quoting a geography book. For a second he thought she was going to laugh at him, but instead she cast her russet head downwards, almost as though she were ashamed. "I've never been to a Blitzball game," she confessed.

"What?"

"Is that really awful?" she moaned, burying her face in her hands.

"No… no, it's not," he said, trying and failing to disguise his own surprise. Truth was, in Zanarkand, confessing that you'd never been to a Blitz game was like claiming you'd never seen the sun. "I guess. It's just that… well, you're the first person I've met that's never been to a game before." He offered a half-apologetic grin.

Yuna drew her face from her hands and cast her eyes downwards again, playing with the beads in her hair. "My father doesn't like Blitzball," she explained. "I don't know why exactly, but one day when I asked him if we could go see a game, he became so quiet… I'd never seen him like that before. He never even answered me. I didn't want to cause him pain in any way… so I thought it would be best not to mention it again. I felt guilty for even asking, you know?"

So her old man keeps a few secrets under his belt. Well there's something we have in common. They sat in silence for a while, each reflecting on their own personal burdens. Yuna, however, seemed the type given to thoughtful musing, while Wakka had once told Tidus that he had the attention span of a bite bug.

After a few moments, he decided that studying Yuna was more interesting than contemplating the hardships of being the son of Jecht. She just looks so damn sad. Perhaps it was the sheer intensity of that sadness that made him ask, "Hey Yuna… you wanna see it?"

"Mm? See what?"

"The stadium."

"The Blitzball stadium?" she questioned. "More than anything. But I told you, I can't-"

"Not with your old man, sure. What if I took you there?"

"You could do that?" she asked in awed tones. "You could take me to see it?"

He laughed at her astonishment. "Sure! Even 'all lit up at night', if you want."

"How? How could you possibly?"

"Yuna, please. I'm the ace of the Zanarkand Abes! I practically live there!"

Truth was, he could get her anything from a free season ticket to a limited edition blitzball signed by the entire team… hell, he could probably get her a free session in the pool if she suddenly felt the desire to try her hand at Blitzball someday. It was only that he didn't usually make the effort to, even for a pretty girl… but this time…

"Tidus… there's no place in the entire world I'd rather see than that stadium," Yuna promised. She had folded her hands in her lap, and was looking directly at him. "But I don't think my father would like me to go with a stranger - not that you are - not to me anyway… but... well, you saw the look he gave you in the alleyway."

Tidus held back a snort of disdain. That old man again. He keeps her locked up like a bird in a cage. Yet he kept his mouth shut, remembering his own father. This wasn't a perfect world, and not everyone had perfect parents.

Presently he gathered himself and began to walk back and forth across the width of the gate. Yuna watched him thoughtfully from her seat amid the flowers. Finally Tidus shrugged at her and concluded, "Why don't you just not tell him, then?"

"You want me to go against his wishes?" Yuna sighed, looking down at her gracefully folded hands. "He's not as bad as you think, you know," apparently reading his thoughts. "My father… he is a good man. He's given me a good life."

"You call this a life? Gods, look at you, Yuna, you're behind bars!" He shook the wrought-iron gates of her little garden to make his point. Then he pushed away from the bars and sauntered backwards, stretching his arms wide. "The greatest city in Spira is waiting for you out here!"

"He just wants to protect me…" she said, he thought with a little less certainty this time. "He only does what's best for me."

Sensing he had touched upon a delicate subject, Tidus kept his voice gentle as he said, "If you believe that, then why did you disobey him the first time?"

He watched the conflict play on her pretty face. Finally, she looked up and her eyes met his, and it seemed to him that her next sentence was hesitant. "Tomorrow night… father leaves for West Zanarkand for two days."

"Yes!" Tidus said hopefully, punching the air with his fist. That's my girl!

"But," Yuna emphasised, "He's hired a maid for me."

"Man, a baby-sitter, huh?"

"I don't really know her very well yet, but she used to be an Acolyte. Aren't they supposed to be very strict?"

Score! That might actually work! Tidus thought. "They're also very obedient… and easy to fool, besides." He and Rikku had tricked an Acolyte or two in their time, but he didn't think Yuna was the kind of girl who would appreciate those sorts of stories. "Trust me, Yuna, this won't be a problem at all. They're all the same, all in their beds while the sun is still out."

"But, how will I get in and out of the house?" Yuna asked him, "Father always locks it in the evenings."

"I'll bet he does," said Tidus dryly. "How high up is your window?"

"Too high to jump, if that's what you're suggesting."

"What about the lower windows?" he replied quickly, "Could you climb in one of those and get back to your room from there? Don't tell me you don't have access to the window keys."

Her expression was strangely unreadable as she peered at him for a long moment, her head tilted to one side. She looks like she's suspicious of me, he thought, a little disappointed. Then she burst out playfully, "I don't suppose you've done this before?"

He laughed loudly. He could sense he had just discovered the beginnings of another side to this girl, and he was eager to lure the rest of it out of her.

"What about the garden gates?" Yuna went on to say, "I don't have the keys for those."

"No problem!" he insisted. "Just jump 'em!"

She eyed the height of the gates dubiously. Watching her, Tidus said confidently, "I'll show you right now if you want." He made to put his trainer in the first foothold between the bars.

"No, no!" she laughed, waving her hands frantically at him. "I believe you! Don't climb over now – father's window is just around the corner!"

"Okay, fine," he consented. "Lessons can come later. Yuna, the rest is all subterfuge. I assume you know the correct way to arrange pillows under your bedcovers?"

It was well into the afternoon before they finished formulating their plan, but by the end of it all they had enough secrets between them to put their fathers to shame.