Notes: For those that did not read Legendary Guardian, the Precepts of the Order of Warrior Monks are inspired by several ancient Asian texts.
Sifu: Cantonese word meaning "teacher" and applied to one that teaches martial arts. An equivelant to "sensei" in Japanese.
Saru:Means "monkey" in Japanese. However, the meaning is only implied for the little critters at Djose Temple. The Ultamania guides in Japanese use katakana to give them this name instead of the kanji so it isn't meant to be directly translated.
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Braska's Journey
Djose - Chapter One - Homecoming
The trek to Djose Temple was relatively uneventful. After a light breakfast, the trio broke camp and started down the road. Auron took point and said little. Jecht, still aching and stiff from the previous day's events, was uncharacteristically quiet as well. Braska followed in the rear.
Skirmishes with fiends brought little problem. Garms and bite bugs swiftly went down to Jecht's ball. Auron made quick work of bunyips. Funguar, snow flans and gandarewa all were on the receiving end of Braska's spells. Only once did they encounter much trouble. Not far from the temple an ochu in the company of a garm and a bite bug blocked their path. Braska felt reduction of numbers was the best option. Jecht took care of the bug in a single throw and Braska's cast of thundara made sure the garm was in no position to attack.
Auron focused his attention on the ochu. His first strike left a nasty gash in the body of the thing but did little to stop it. The overgrown hulk of a plant whipped the long vines it used as arms forward in a strike. Jecht jumped backward and avoided the poisonous snapping pinchers just in time.
"We have to keep it from dancing!" Auron shouted.
"I'm going to call Shiva." Braska stepped forward. "We cannot risk it."
"Are you sure?" Auron set up for another strike.
Braska nodded quickly "Jecht's ball will be of no help. You know that. Ochu are immune to darkness spells."
Jecht finished off the smoking garm as Braska began his summon. Closing his eyes, he spun the staff and then extended it above his head. A cold gust of wind blew in from above as he separated his arms and swung the staff toward the ground.
Auron grabbed Jecht and jerked him out of the way just in time. Huge chunks of ice slammed into the ground behind the Summoner as the translucent form of a woman drifted down from the sky. Reflected in the prisms of the ice, Shiva took form.
Braska moved to the side as the Aeon broke free of its icy cage. Shiva tossed her cloak aside and looked toward the ochu with an expression of near amusement.
"Lady, I humbly ask for your assistance." Braska bowed toward the Aeon and retrieved the discarded cloak.
It took the woman little time to defeat the mutant plant. She easily avoided the snapping pinchers, darting inside the thing's defenses with graceful spinning kicks. As the ochu began to wilt, its power draining away, Shiva smirked. She raised her arm and with a disdainful gesture dropped a huge hunk of ice on the thing. It dissipated into nothingness. She tossed her long blue hair in satisfaction.
After a few grateful words of thanks, Braska dismissed Shiva. He turned to his Guardians, eager to be on his way. The temple was close now and he had high hopes that he might see old friends.
Auron quickly resumed point and started down the path but Jecht continued to stand there. He stared at Braska, a look of question on his face.
"Are you all right, Jecht?"
"That looked like a person."
Auron stopped at the sound of voices and turned to look. He watched as Jecht took an angry step forward.
"Yes. Shiva enjoys her form as an Aeon. I often think she wears almost nothing to taunt men with her beauty. I know that I have been enamored of her since the first time I saw my mother summon her years ago."
"Are you telling me those things you call – that monster you call Bahamut – that it used to be HUMAN?"
Braska blinked. "Of course, Jecht. A Fayth is a spirit – a human spirit that gave its soul to become a protector."
For a moment, Auron thought Jecht might hit Braska. He could see the man clench his fists – the tenseness of bunched shoulder muscles at the ready. Auron took two steps closer and slid his sword free of the scabbard. Jecht might be Braska's Guardian now, but he was not going to allow the man to harm Braska no matter what order the Summoner had given.
"Jecht, I can see that this disturbs you. But, I assure you; I could not summon these spirits if they were unwilling. If I did not have their permission – if they did not WANT to join me in my fight – I would never leave the Chamber of the Fayth alive."
Jecht seemed to relax slightly. He nervously cracked the knuckles of his right hand.
Braska reached out and put a hand on Jecht's shoulder. "Trust me, Jecht. I promise to answer all your questions in time."
"It just don't seem right." Jecht frowned. "I mean, it's one thing to kill stuff like overgrown insects and gigantic plants. It's another to see something – I dunno. It just seems wrong. Like you're using somebody."
Braska nodded. "I sometimes feel that way. But Jecht, the people that gave their souls to create the Aeons did so centuries ago. I could never ask someone to do such a thing – to give their life to be a tool for my magic. But, it seems to me, that I would be foolish if I shunned the help of the Fayth. They are our only defense against Sin. Is it not a far greater crime to allow innocent and unwilling people to die terrible deaths?"
Auron slid his sword back into the holder on his back. It was clear now that Jecht had no intention of harming Braska. He wondered if the Summoner was going to tell Jecht about the Final Aeon. There was a strong feeling of sadness flowing through the Call and Braska seemed unsure of himself. For long moments, he watched as Jecht and Braska stood there. Finally, Braska sighed and stepped away.
"We are close to the temple now, Jecht. We can discuss this later if you like."
Jecht rubbed at the back of his neck; a nervous gesture. "Yeah. I guess talkin' here ain't the smartest thing."
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The group was met by an honor guard. An old priest stood on the bridge that led to the temple flanked by the garrison second, a representative of the Chocobo Knights, and a young acolyte bearing flowers.
Braska stopped mid-stride as he looked at the priest, his face registering a look of surprise and recognition. He very nearly dropped his staff.
"Dear Yevon! Master Qui!" Braska's face lit up in a huge smile as he ran toward the little old man on the bridge. "In the name of the Fayth, I never thought I'd find you still alive after all these years!"
The Summoner dwarfed the priest and the voluminous robes all but caused the man to disappear when Braska embraced him. "Ah my boy." A muffled chuckle floated out. "I see they did not teach you restraint in Bevelle as I had hoped."
Braska let go of the man and took a step back. He dropped to his knees and performed the sign of prayer. "I apologize, sifu. Forgive your wayward student."
"You truly never change, Braska." The old man smiled. "And will you introduce your Guardians? I know one of them but the other…"
"Yes. I am sure you know Sir Auron from his time at the garrison." Braska stood up and motioned to the warrior. Auron took a step forward, bowed, and stepped back. "And this is Sir Jecht."
Jecht did not have time to step forward. The old man was surprisingly quick. Qui darted forward, his dark almond shaped eyes looking over the blitzer intently as though sizing up a piece of livestock. "Tales say that you injured six Warrior Monks before being thrown in the Bevelle Locks, Sir Jecht."
"What of it?" Jecht crossed his arms over his chest. "You lookin' for a fight, old man?"
"Jecht!" Auron hissed the warning and glared at the blitzer. His expression clearly said that calling out an old priest was not good etiquette.
"No, I am not," Qui snorted. "Well, Braska, I see your taste in friends has not improved either. He is even more hot tempered than that Al Bhed you ran with, Cid."
Braska flushed and looked chagrinned. "Master, please."
Auron was beginning to wonder if they were going to be allowed to approach the temple, much less the Fayth, when the old priest grinned and winked at him. "Well, I am sure you are all tired and hungry. These two fine men are here to escort your Guardians to quarters in the garrison. You, Braska, will come with me. We have much to discuss. You have not had dokusan with me in more than fifteen years and I am eager to see how much you have forgotten. The Trials can wait until tomorrow."
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The little creatures were everywhere. Jecht thought he might go nuts.
Not only did he have a pounding headache but he could hardly walk a step without the little critters – saru Auron had called them – running between his legs. They seemed to make a game of it. He'd tripped twice, sprained his ankle, bashed himself into doorjambs, and had two of them try to run off with his gauntlet. He'd taken it off, along with the rest of his clothing, so he could have a nice soak in a hot bath. When he turned around, the glint of light flashing on metal caught his attention. Two of the saru had gotten under the arm bracer and were making for the door. Jecht sprang, naked, into the hallway to snatch the thing. They had chittered and jumped in indignation when the item was plucked from their grasp.
As if it weren't humiliating enough to be chewed out by rodents, two female Chocobo Knights chose that moment to go down the hallway. After giving Jecht's naked form an appraising look, the women suggested he lock down anything he didn't want to go missing in the provided chest. They looked pointedly at his midsection before leaving and snickered all the way down the hall.
Finally, with everything he had but a towel and a key safely locked away, Jecht headed for the bathing rooms. Auron had disappeared not long after locking up his own things and Jecht had no idea when the warrior might return. A part of him had half a mind to find out what the locals drank and see where he could find those Chocobo Knights, but he quickly shook off those thoughts. He'd made a promise to Braska, and more importantly to himself. No more drinking. He meant to keep it.
After scrubbing off the road dirt and sluicing the soap out of his hair in a shower he had a look around. He finally picked a door that, he was pretty sure, said "mineral bath." When he stepped inside, the steam was so thick he could hardly see. The room smelled strongly of salt and sulfur. Jecht grinned and slowly felt his way forward. He sighed when his foot touched the hot water. It was exactly what he needed.
An hour later, his skin shriveled up like the dried fruits Auron handed out with rations, Jecht slid his way out of the bath. He took another, rather bracing, shower to wash off the mineral crust and made his way back to his room. After his soak, he was so relaxed that even the little saru darting between his feet didn't bother him much. Jecht didn't take the time to remove his towel before flopping onto the sleeping pallet. He was out before his head touched the pillow.
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Auron's mind was a maelstrom of disturbing thoughts. After putting his things away at the garrison, he headed for the temple. He was confused. Borrowing plain white robes and a scroll containing the Precepts of the Order of Warrior Monks from a priest, he ensconced himself in cloister before a makeshift altar hoping to still his mind through meditation.
Kneeling, he lit three incense sticks from the candle flame and stuck them, upright, in the holder. The grains of sand shifted softly, a brush of grit against metal that was laden with comfort and peace. The rich deep scents of cinnamon, clove, sandalwood, and frankincense wafted upward on the smoke and filled the small stone room. Auron bowed forward three times, brushing his forehead to the floor in submission to his God before moving backward to the cushion that lay on the floor behind him. Settling into seiza he folded his hands in his lap and took three deep even breaths to prepare himself – to find his center where he might float above the cacophony of discord that filled his soul.
He lowered his eyes to the floor, nearly closing them, and internally began the recitation of Precepts.
//Heaven and earth are my parents, the people of Spira my brothers and sisters, Yevon my home…//
He had been awake the night before when Braska and Jecht talked. The disconcerting feeling of pity that struck him at the south bank of the Moonflow had returned as he lay there in the dark. Listening to Jecht, he wondered about the family the man so often made reference to. He wondered about the boy, Tidus. What did they look like, this family of Jecht's? What kind of woman loved a man like that? Jecht was vain, pompous, and full of himself. He purported to be the most famous blitz player in the history of Zanarkand. If his boasts were true, Jecht could have had his pick of women. Surely, she would be beautiful at the very least. A man like Jecht never picked a woman for her brains.
//Honesty is my power, Docility my means, Benevolence my armor, The Law my sword…//
What kind of life did they live? Jecht said he was never home. Where was he? Off playing blitz? What was home? A house like his own? A place like Sam's family had in Luca?
The thoughts had rolled through his mind one after another until Auron had come to a strange and frightening realization. He was no longer questioning Jecht's claim that he was from Zanarkand. The knowledge of that had shocked him. It had been very difficult to find the peace of sleep after that.
//My strength of will is my magic, Emptiness and fullness my tactics, Adaptability to all circumstances my principal…//
When Jecht woke him for watch, his thoughts continued to disturb him. Braska and Jecht's conversation implied that Jecht was here because Yevon sent him - that the hand of God had brought Jecht to Spira to help the Summoner gain the Final Aeon. Was that why Braska insisted Jecht had to be protected? That the man was necessary to the Journey? Why did Braska think such a thing? What proof did he have? And if he had proof, why Braska refuse to share it?
//I will meet speed with speed, Strength with yielding, Force with deflection, Retreat with attack…//
Now that Auron had admitted that he believed Jecht, he had to ask himself - did he believe this new thing as well? Could Yevon send a man like Jecht to be his instrument? A sports star. A man who, by his own admission, was little more than a self-indulgent drunk.
//I will read my opponents intention in his eyes, I will dance upon the wind as a feather, he will not touch me…//
The walk to the temple had done nothing to clear Auron's head. Jecht had been strangely subdued and it only served to compound Auron's confusion. The blitzer's reflexes in battle were now second nature. Jecht was no longer startled when they were attacked and Auron was fairly certain that it would take little time for the man to master a few magical skills to augment his powerful strikes. As a warrior, Auron easily conceded that having two swordsmen capable of executing breaks or spells would be a wonderful advantage. Once past the Mushroom Rock Road, fiends became relatively easy to fight and teaching Jecht sword craft on the road would become much easier. The combination of strength, power, and speed that could be found in Jecht's body were astounding. It made Auron wonder what the man might have been if he had been raised in the Temples.
//I deny the antagonist victory, I deny my death, I live to fight my sorrow…//
All these things and more had cluttered Auron's mind as they approached Djose Temple. While he still reserved judgment on Jecht's vow to give up drink, and he certainly still detested the man, he had to come to some kind of terms with the situation. His Summoner – his friend – had two Guardians. Auron had to find a way to set aside his thoughts, fears, and personal animosity toward Jecht. He had to do so, if for no other reason, than to please his Lord and ease the man's days.
For Braska's days on Spira were numbered.
//In doing so I live as though already dead…//
He had to decide what he believed. He had to be sure. And if what he believed went against the Teachings – went against the Laws of his Church – what then? Was he a heretic? Was Braska? Did it make him evil? Did it make him unworthy?
//Yevon, help me. What do I do?//
Auron tried, in vain, to focus. His eyes flashed open to stare at the long brushstrokes of the calligraphy that filled the scroll on the wall. He began again.
Over and over he repeated the same process, never getting very far before a thought intruded and his mind wandered. After the sixth attempt, he wondered if he should present himself to one of the priests and ask to be struck. It had been years since he required it to keep focus during meditation but he seemed incapable of finding center. It frustrated him almost as much as the questions in his mind.
//If I ask the priest for caning, he will wonder why. If I speak these words to another in dokusan what would they say?//
For the first time since the death of his teacher, Barak, Auron nearly wept for the loss of him. Barak had always known what to say. Had the man lived, Auron could have unburdened his heart without hesitation and known there would be no reproof or accusation. Barak would have spoken to him in that way he always did when Auron was deeply troubled – as a man speaking to another man and not a priest judging the actions of another. Auron had loved Barak. More than just his Sensei, the man had stepped into the role of father figure and filled it admirably. More times than he could count, Barak had given sage advise, quietly guiding Auron through the most confusing and difficult decisions in life.
But Barak was gone.
Auron was alone.
He began again.
//Heaven and earth are my parents, the people of Spira my brothers and sisters, Yevon my home…//
As he closed his eyes and began the breathing exercise, Braska's face filled his mind. Once, not so long ago, he had gone to Braska in a time of confusion. It had stilled his heart then, could it do so now?
//Barak would tell me to stop running. He would tell me to face my fear. He would tell me to trust.//
Auron's eyes flashed open. He moved forward to the makeshift altar. He extinguished the incense sticks and the candle, performed the sign of prayer and left the room. Focusing on the connection of the Call, he allowed it lead him – to lead him to his Lord.