Darkness. He was floating in pure darkness. There was no sense of
direction, no exit, no nothing. His mind didn't wander or do much of
anything. In fact, he wasn't sure that he existed at all.
"... Zidane."
"Huh?" (he could only assume that the response was his own)
"... Zidane."
"Who's there? Can you tell me who I am? Can you tell me where I am?"
From somewhere in the distance, a white light shone forth. It wasn't an
overpowering light, but a soft gentle one. It seemed to speak to him.
"Zidane, you promised."
"Promised what? Who are you?"
"Zidane, come home to me..."
"Home?"
"I'm waiting for you..."
"Who are you?"
"Wake up, Zidane."
"Wake up from what?"
"Wake up!" exclaimed Mira, tired of waiting for her company to awake.
Zidane's eyes sprung open to see another pair of eyes only inches from his
own. He lunged forward in surprise.
"Woah!" shouted a girl as she toppled backwards and landed on the floor. Zidane rubbed his head. He had a tremendous headache and he couldn't remember a thing. He didn't know who he was, where he was, or where he'd come from. Zidane's eyes slowly focused. For the first time he was able to take in his surroundings. He lay in a bed on the side of a small house. There were several windows and a single door. There was a simple table and chair set in the middle of the room and off to the side, a stove warmed a pot of food. The smell of the food filled the hut and if the smell was any indication, it was delicious. The walls were clear, save for one picture of a man, a woman, and a small girl. The girl in the picture held a baby chocobo. But the most stunning feature of the room was its only other occupant, the eyes that had frightened him moments earlier. The girl stood up and brushed the dirt from her back. She was absolutely stunning. She had dazzling black hair and although she was dressed in simple clothing, her athletic figure and natural beauty shone forth. But as Zidane stared at her, his eyes focused on hers. They were the deepest blue eyes that he had ever seen. Like the darkest depths of the ocean and the bluest, brightest sky, no mere words could explain how lost he became in her eyes. After she had dusted herself off, she noticed him looking at her. For awhile they stared at each other, afraid to break the gaze for fear that the other might disappear. After awhile, she blushed and dropped her head to the side. She smiled and then looked back at him, extending her hand. "I'm Mira, it's nice to meet you," she stated softly. "I'm..." He paused, unable to recall his own name. But suddenly the voice from his dream echoed in his head 'Zidane...'. He began again, saying, "I'm Zidane". "Zidane..." she repeated. "Where are you from Zidane?" "I... I... don't know..." he stammered, rubbing his head in pain again. "Oh, I'm sorry... Don't push yourself on my account, it's just that it's been so long since I had any visitors here..." she explained. "Where is here?" he asked. "Jero. The lost village of Jero..." "Lost?" "Yeah, lost... There's no way in or out. Frankly, I don't know how you could've ended up here. Do you remember how you got here?" "No, like I said, I don't remember a thing..." he trailed off, noticing for the first time that he didn't have any clothes on. Although he was already covered up, he pulled the sheets over himself. "Your clothes are drying outside," she stated, noticing the change. "You washed up on the beach. It's a miracle you survived..."
Zidane was silent. Survived what? Where was it that he had been and how was it that he got here? What was that dream? Where was his home and who was calling him there? Before he could think anymore, Mira had sat down on the bed next to him and placed her hand on his bare back. "I know you want to figure everything out, but it'll come back with time. And until you do, I'll be here for you," she whispered in his ear.
He turned to look at her. They once again shared a lasting glance. Her arm remained around him and there was little distance between them. However, they seemed to be looking into each other's souls through the great glass looking glasses they called eyes. Eventually, Mira stood up. "You must be hungry. I made some of my family's special recipe!" she exclaimed. "Thank you... for everything..." he stated. "Do you have anything I could wear until my clothes finish drying?"
"Woah!" shouted a girl as she toppled backwards and landed on the floor. Zidane rubbed his head. He had a tremendous headache and he couldn't remember a thing. He didn't know who he was, where he was, or where he'd come from. Zidane's eyes slowly focused. For the first time he was able to take in his surroundings. He lay in a bed on the side of a small house. There were several windows and a single door. There was a simple table and chair set in the middle of the room and off to the side, a stove warmed a pot of food. The smell of the food filled the hut and if the smell was any indication, it was delicious. The walls were clear, save for one picture of a man, a woman, and a small girl. The girl in the picture held a baby chocobo. But the most stunning feature of the room was its only other occupant, the eyes that had frightened him moments earlier. The girl stood up and brushed the dirt from her back. She was absolutely stunning. She had dazzling black hair and although she was dressed in simple clothing, her athletic figure and natural beauty shone forth. But as Zidane stared at her, his eyes focused on hers. They were the deepest blue eyes that he had ever seen. Like the darkest depths of the ocean and the bluest, brightest sky, no mere words could explain how lost he became in her eyes. After she had dusted herself off, she noticed him looking at her. For awhile they stared at each other, afraid to break the gaze for fear that the other might disappear. After awhile, she blushed and dropped her head to the side. She smiled and then looked back at him, extending her hand. "I'm Mira, it's nice to meet you," she stated softly. "I'm..." He paused, unable to recall his own name. But suddenly the voice from his dream echoed in his head 'Zidane...'. He began again, saying, "I'm Zidane". "Zidane..." she repeated. "Where are you from Zidane?" "I... I... don't know..." he stammered, rubbing his head in pain again. "Oh, I'm sorry... Don't push yourself on my account, it's just that it's been so long since I had any visitors here..." she explained. "Where is here?" he asked. "Jero. The lost village of Jero..." "Lost?" "Yeah, lost... There's no way in or out. Frankly, I don't know how you could've ended up here. Do you remember how you got here?" "No, like I said, I don't remember a thing..." he trailed off, noticing for the first time that he didn't have any clothes on. Although he was already covered up, he pulled the sheets over himself. "Your clothes are drying outside," she stated, noticing the change. "You washed up on the beach. It's a miracle you survived..."
Zidane was silent. Survived what? Where was it that he had been and how was it that he got here? What was that dream? Where was his home and who was calling him there? Before he could think anymore, Mira had sat down on the bed next to him and placed her hand on his bare back. "I know you want to figure everything out, but it'll come back with time. And until you do, I'll be here for you," she whispered in his ear.
He turned to look at her. They once again shared a lasting glance. Her arm remained around him and there was little distance between them. However, they seemed to be looking into each other's souls through the great glass looking glasses they called eyes. Eventually, Mira stood up. "You must be hungry. I made some of my family's special recipe!" she exclaimed. "Thank you... for everything..." he stated. "Do you have anything I could wear until my clothes finish drying?"