From Different Worlds
Welcome one and all to my first ever Fanfiction.Net Story, rewritten in all it's original glory, with a new coat of shiny golden paint! That is to say, it's a story that I decided to rewrite, doing a major facelift, so to speak, formerly known as Tidus of SeeD. As some of you know, and most do not, it is a storyline molded to fit the Final Fantasy 10 Characters into the world of Final Fantasy 8! Tidus and Yuna are the main characters of course, with cameos and other roles from many other Final Fantasy's.
Chapter one: The Father I Wish I Never Had
I don't think I ever understood what made my decision to be a swordsman, but I know I did it for the popularity at first. When I got accepted into Balamb Garden, I thought that I could make it as a swordsman. After all, I was an ace blitzball player, how much harder could swinging a piece of metal around be? Thing is, I was wrong. REALLY wrong. I ruffled my spiked blonde hair a little bit, trying to rub out a small itch.
But what I said about the popularity? Yeah, it's funny because I always was popular. And I'm not trying to be vain. I really was popular back in Balamb High School, whether I wanted to be or not. Especially with the girls. Whether it was the blonde hair, the azure, ocean-blue eyes, or the personality, I didn't ever know. Man, I sound vain don't I? I guess in a way I am. But I'm not an asshole, I'm as far from that as can be. I never made fun of anyone. . .well, at least almost never. Sometimes, I would just push around the smaller people, because it was part of my reputation to be the cool, calm, confident blitzball player and when some little unpopular punk made fun of me I didn't let it go easy.
But regardless, here I was, sitting with my best bud, Wakka, still nervous about University. I think he could tell that I was nervous.
"I know it's gonna be hard man, but you gotta do it sometime, ya?" assured Wakka. He was, as always, wearing his blue bandana along with his orange hair shaped into a strange sort of cowlick at the front. He was much bigger than me, muscle-wise. If there was anything someone could tell about Wakka at first glance, it was that he was a tough guy. At least on the outside. Yet for all his hours at the gym, for all the people he scared unwillingly, anyone who got to know Wakka knew his whole heart was one big soft spot. In other words, he was a good-hearted guy, and a great pal.
"You think?" I answered sarcastically. I folded my arms and scowled at him. I was turning 19 next month, and I really couldn't wait. Birthdays were my favourite. I was wearing rather casual clothes, a rare occasion for me. I was usually decked out in my trademark yellow overall short shirt, with suspenders from my leather shorts, one leg longer than the other and bearing the mark of my High School Blitzball Team logo, the Abes. Maybe it was my fashion that got the girls talking to me. Or maybe it was my partially-exposed chest. We'll never know.
"Well, it's startin' in two days brudda." Wakka warned. Apparently, he couldn't tell I was being sarcastic.
"I was being sarcastic, Wakka." I laughed. He grunted in response.
"Whatever, man I'm gonna kick ass with my classes dis year, ya?" Wakka commented. He held up his expensive gunblade, something that had become rather common in the past two years, ever since the legendary Gunblade Knight Squall Leonhart defeated Ultimecia. Man, that whole month was one big party. Now, every damn kid wanted to be just like him.
"Yeah, but I heard gunblades are tough to use?" I asked. I fell back on my bed, the soft material comforting my legs.
"Maybe. And dat's why I wanna use them." Wakka retorted. "No use usin' a weapon anyone can master, ya?" He eyed my old sword in the corner of my room. "Longswords, eh, way too boring."
"Hah, well, you keep saying that, pal!" I laughed. Thing was, Wakka wasn't the greatest swordsman, but no one ever had the heart to tell him. Not to say he was bad, but he never used anything more than his own strength to win, and that wasn't the best way. Slow, clumsy, untalented, but powerful. Sometimes I joked that he should use a blitzball to fight his enemies, seeing as he was a pretty good blitzer himself, but he never listened to me. Stubbornness was another one of his strengths.
"I will, brudda." Wakka retorted. "Anyways, I'm gonna go now. Gotta go get packin', I wanna leave tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?"
"The sooner, the better!" Wakka replied. And with that, he was off, and I could hear his heavy footsteps clumsily running down my stairs. I lived in a rather expensive house, which my father had paid for before he became a slobbering drunkard, spending all of his money at the local liquor shop. My dad didn't work, so my mom had to pay for all the bills.
I sighed, and flapped back down on my bed. I laid there for two minutes before I grabbed the remote and watched some late-day TV. Might as well relax now, because the next couple months would be pretty tough.
Little did I know that I had a talent for understatements.
I believe that the next day, my hatred for my father grew even more. Wakka was over at our house by nine o'clock, which must've been hard considering his habit of oversleeping. But there he was, restless and clutching his packed bags tightly to his chest as if someone would steal them. But as I was saying, I had foolishly asked my father to pick up some train tickets to Balamb Garden once he went out, which he did. And considering that the train station was about three doors down from his favourite pub, you'd think he would've spared about three minutes to pick up a measly two tickets.
"Why the hell didn't you get the tickets?!" I shouted at him. This was frustrating.
"Sorry kid, I told ya, I'm not doing your shit for you anymore. You're a big boy, YOU go do 'em." Roared Jecht. Everyone, meet my alcoholic, half- witted, abusive father. "I was too busy, so you gotta go get 'em yourself, kid!"
"Too busy what?" I shouted. "Drinking again?! Did you spend the money I gave you for the tickets on the alcohol?" I knew it was pointless. Dad was more stubborn than I was, arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. I threw up my arms in disgust, just to vent some rage, and stomped out of his room as he lay lazily on his bed.
"And get me an aspirin, boy!"
"Do it yourself, old man!" I retaliated. "If you aren't even gonna get something for me, I'm sure as hell not getting you an aspirin! See how YOU like it!" Jecht cursed at me, and I could hear as he knocked over the night stand, probably on purpose, and tried to get out of bed. As I walked into the kitchen to grab some water and an aspirin (for myself, of course), my mothers greeted me from the stove, cooking some food.
"He's had another rough night." Spoke my mother. Her name was Shera, and she was probably the only thing that kept our house together. She absolutely adored my old man, although I couldn't see anything in him she liked. She had a job, while pops stayed at home all day watching TV, going out, and drinking from an always-present alcoholic canteen. I wonder how she ended up with my father. "Please, just do it this once, just give him some aspirin."
"Aw, come on mom!" I cried in response. "Pops didn't get the tickets, so now I have to get out of here with Wakka and buy them with more of my own money!"
My mother grinned at me mischievously, but regained a serious facial expression after she handed me some little white pieces of paper that looked like train tickets. "I knew he wouldn't do it, so I took your money from him and got them myself. . .without his knowing, of course. But I'll only give them to you if you get him an aspirin, okay?"
I couldn't believe it. My mom just took both our asses out of the frying pan and landed us at home free. "R-really? These are. . .mine?" Despite that I had, in my opinion, the goofiest smile, I smiled my brightest and bounded off to the room, nearly colliding with my old man along the way.
"Slow down kiddo, you're gonna hurt someone." He snorted.
Yeah, well. . ." I muttered. "Here." I tried handing him the glass and aspirin, but I noticed only one hand was free to take them. The other was holding a sword, an old "trophy" of his that I had only seen him use once or twice.
"Here's the deal. You trade me them aspirin, then I'll give you this sword here." Offered my father, mustering a weak smile. I looked at him warily, but I decided against suspicion and took the sword, handing him the glass and capsules.
"This is your sword." I replied, trying to hand it back to him. I bet it was all rusty and old and decrepit. "I already have my own." I growled back. It seems like I was being hostile, but actually, this was about as calm as relations between me and the old man got.
"Listen kid, I'm sayin' take it!" Replied Jecht. "Think I want to give it to you? You're gonna break it I bet. But it's a good sword, maybe it can give some fightin' power to someone who needs it, y'know?" He growled in return.
"Whatever," I muttered, "fine, I'll take it." I retracted my hand, turned my back, and moved away. I heard my father almost whisper a gruff farewell and then I was beyond his sight as I darted down the stairs, my excitement returning almost instantly.
A moment later, I explained to Wakka, and we were gone.
As Shera stood at the door, her son not looking back once, she wondered if what she was doing the right choice. She scolded herself internally, knowing that this is what he wanted to do. "Please, don't get killed. . ." She whispered.
* * *
We were waiting for our train now, a half an hour later. Thoughts of excitement and glory replaced one another like generations of people, every thought springing up a new and better one. After all the things I had heard, I had good cause to be excited. But in his excitement, Wakka interrupted my deep thoughts of bravado.
"That ain't your sword, brudda." Wakka spoke. "Didn't steal it, did you?"
"Of course not, you goof." I laughed. "This. . .my old man gave it to me."
"Ah, that's good ya?" Wakka replied.
"Not really." I snorted. "Probably all rusty and stuff."
"Doubt that, man." Wakka replied. "This is a good sword. Not rusty one bit. Did you even look at it?" He held it in front of my face. I gasped in terror.
"No, Wakka!" I whispered furiously. "Someone's gonna think we're about to kill someone! Put it away!" I fumbled the sword and clumsily sheathed it again. I then hid it under a cloak, and clutched it tightly.
"Aw, come on man!" Wakka whined. "We're gonna put it back, ya? I jus' wanna take another good look!"
"You can look at it later!" I whispered in return. Wakka protested some more, but I ignored him. I think I was justified, because in our argument, we had failed to see the train had mired in the stop in front of us and was now closing its doors. I gasped, as did Wakka (once he saw the train) and we both dashed for it. I would have made it, but-
"My train!"
"Ooof!" I groaned as I collided with someone apparently making the same dash for the door as me and Wakka. We were both knocked to the floor, and Wakka was able to make the train, but he stopped, turned, and came back once he noticed I was missing.
I growled under my breath, prepared to curse at the stupid person who had just made me miss my train for the next hour. Man was I glad I didn't.
"Watch it, you-" Or maybe I almost did, but I didn't finish my sentence. Because as I got up and turned to the fallen person, I realized that she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was draped over her face as she tried to get to her feet, but I knew at once what she looked like. Years of experience kicked in.
"Uh. . .s-sorry!" I almost whimpered. Okay, everyone has their bad moments. I regained my composure, another reflex from my experience, and offered her my hand. She looked up, took it, and to my surprise, didn't even scowl at me.
"Oh! I'm so, so sorry!" she cried. She bent down to pick up my stuff. . .yes, my stuff, not hers, but mine. Talk about selfless. I kicked myself mentally and grabbed her stuff too, obviously having less trouble lifting her one measly suitcase than she did, trying vainly to lift my three heavily packed suitcases. I immediately snapped back into action.
"Oh, that's alright, I got it." I offered. She stood up, and I handed her suitcase back to her. I then bent over, lifted my things with ease, and hefted my cloak (the one with the sword wrapped up) and stood back up. For the first time, I noticed her eyes. Those beautiful, deep pools of light. One green eye, one blue eye. Her eyes lightened up her naturally soft and somewhat pale complexion, and her light brown hair swayed in the breeze. Her slender mouth was pursed in worry and anticipation. I smiled back at her.
"Are you alright?"
The woman smiled and nodded, apparently relieved that I had not gotten angry at her. "I'm fine, but it looks like we missed our train! Oh shoot, I was so excited to going to Balamb Garden!"
I couldn't believe it. An unspeakably beautiful woman was going to the same school as me? A military school? Oh man, I hoped it wasn't too much to ask for her to be into longswords like me.
She dusted her long dress skirt off, and looked back up at me. "Um, I'm really sorry." She apologized, bowing. "I hope. . .may I ask your name?"
"Me?" I stuttered. "The name's Tidus."
"Tidus. . ." She echoed, as if it recalled something. "My name is Yuna." She offered her delicate hand and I took it, grateful she wasn't pissed, like she should have been. Like most people would have. Thing is, I didn't know yet how much Yuna was different than most people. *Man, I am never washing this hand again. But damn, perfect time to lose my charm!* I thought.
"Nice to meet you, Tidus." Yuna commented. "Where were you going?" She clasped her hands at her waist, almost as if from nervousness.
"Me? Oh, I'm going to Balamb Garden too." I replied, pointing my thumb in the direction the now-distant train was heading.
"Oh, that's amazing!" Yuna exclaimed. "I am, as well! What are you going to do there?"
"Well, I'm taking a specialized course in Longsword Training." I answered.
"Well, I'm already trained in white magic. . ." Yuna explained. "But I'm going in for an advanced White Magic Course, and a beginners course for Summoning. Hey, they always pair longsword users and healers up, maybe we'll be in the same team once or twice!"
All this time, we both forgot about Wakka, who was standing there, cross- armed, tapping his feet impatiently on the concrete terrain. "Kids, nice ta know you two are gettin' along, but mind if I cut in? We should be sittin', we've got a half hour to go."
After I introduced Yuna and Wakka to each other, well, rather she introduced herself to him and I commented how she was going to Balamb Garden, as was he, we sat down on a nearby bench. The wind was blowing slightly, but it was a completely cloudless day in the middle of spring, making all the more fitting for our meeting. Over the train tracks we could see beautiful fields of grass, and behind us lay the city in which I had come from, a serene, peaceful, seaside resort town.
Well, when the train arrived, it took a little prodding from Wakka to get us out of our conversation, but we both hurried on, and made it to our train. We separated there, and silently I hoped we could meet up again. Little did I know that that day, everything changed. For me, but mostly for her.
Welcome one and all to my first ever Fanfiction.Net Story, rewritten in all it's original glory, with a new coat of shiny golden paint! That is to say, it's a story that I decided to rewrite, doing a major facelift, so to speak, formerly known as Tidus of SeeD. As some of you know, and most do not, it is a storyline molded to fit the Final Fantasy 10 Characters into the world of Final Fantasy 8! Tidus and Yuna are the main characters of course, with cameos and other roles from many other Final Fantasy's.
Chapter one: The Father I Wish I Never Had
I don't think I ever understood what made my decision to be a swordsman, but I know I did it for the popularity at first. When I got accepted into Balamb Garden, I thought that I could make it as a swordsman. After all, I was an ace blitzball player, how much harder could swinging a piece of metal around be? Thing is, I was wrong. REALLY wrong. I ruffled my spiked blonde hair a little bit, trying to rub out a small itch.
But what I said about the popularity? Yeah, it's funny because I always was popular. And I'm not trying to be vain. I really was popular back in Balamb High School, whether I wanted to be or not. Especially with the girls. Whether it was the blonde hair, the azure, ocean-blue eyes, or the personality, I didn't ever know. Man, I sound vain don't I? I guess in a way I am. But I'm not an asshole, I'm as far from that as can be. I never made fun of anyone. . .well, at least almost never. Sometimes, I would just push around the smaller people, because it was part of my reputation to be the cool, calm, confident blitzball player and when some little unpopular punk made fun of me I didn't let it go easy.
But regardless, here I was, sitting with my best bud, Wakka, still nervous about University. I think he could tell that I was nervous.
"I know it's gonna be hard man, but you gotta do it sometime, ya?" assured Wakka. He was, as always, wearing his blue bandana along with his orange hair shaped into a strange sort of cowlick at the front. He was much bigger than me, muscle-wise. If there was anything someone could tell about Wakka at first glance, it was that he was a tough guy. At least on the outside. Yet for all his hours at the gym, for all the people he scared unwillingly, anyone who got to know Wakka knew his whole heart was one big soft spot. In other words, he was a good-hearted guy, and a great pal.
"You think?" I answered sarcastically. I folded my arms and scowled at him. I was turning 19 next month, and I really couldn't wait. Birthdays were my favourite. I was wearing rather casual clothes, a rare occasion for me. I was usually decked out in my trademark yellow overall short shirt, with suspenders from my leather shorts, one leg longer than the other and bearing the mark of my High School Blitzball Team logo, the Abes. Maybe it was my fashion that got the girls talking to me. Or maybe it was my partially-exposed chest. We'll never know.
"Well, it's startin' in two days brudda." Wakka warned. Apparently, he couldn't tell I was being sarcastic.
"I was being sarcastic, Wakka." I laughed. He grunted in response.
"Whatever, man I'm gonna kick ass with my classes dis year, ya?" Wakka commented. He held up his expensive gunblade, something that had become rather common in the past two years, ever since the legendary Gunblade Knight Squall Leonhart defeated Ultimecia. Man, that whole month was one big party. Now, every damn kid wanted to be just like him.
"Yeah, but I heard gunblades are tough to use?" I asked. I fell back on my bed, the soft material comforting my legs.
"Maybe. And dat's why I wanna use them." Wakka retorted. "No use usin' a weapon anyone can master, ya?" He eyed my old sword in the corner of my room. "Longswords, eh, way too boring."
"Hah, well, you keep saying that, pal!" I laughed. Thing was, Wakka wasn't the greatest swordsman, but no one ever had the heart to tell him. Not to say he was bad, but he never used anything more than his own strength to win, and that wasn't the best way. Slow, clumsy, untalented, but powerful. Sometimes I joked that he should use a blitzball to fight his enemies, seeing as he was a pretty good blitzer himself, but he never listened to me. Stubbornness was another one of his strengths.
"I will, brudda." Wakka retorted. "Anyways, I'm gonna go now. Gotta go get packin', I wanna leave tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?"
"The sooner, the better!" Wakka replied. And with that, he was off, and I could hear his heavy footsteps clumsily running down my stairs. I lived in a rather expensive house, which my father had paid for before he became a slobbering drunkard, spending all of his money at the local liquor shop. My dad didn't work, so my mom had to pay for all the bills.
I sighed, and flapped back down on my bed. I laid there for two minutes before I grabbed the remote and watched some late-day TV. Might as well relax now, because the next couple months would be pretty tough.
Little did I know that I had a talent for understatements.
I believe that the next day, my hatred for my father grew even more. Wakka was over at our house by nine o'clock, which must've been hard considering his habit of oversleeping. But there he was, restless and clutching his packed bags tightly to his chest as if someone would steal them. But as I was saying, I had foolishly asked my father to pick up some train tickets to Balamb Garden once he went out, which he did. And considering that the train station was about three doors down from his favourite pub, you'd think he would've spared about three minutes to pick up a measly two tickets.
"Why the hell didn't you get the tickets?!" I shouted at him. This was frustrating.
"Sorry kid, I told ya, I'm not doing your shit for you anymore. You're a big boy, YOU go do 'em." Roared Jecht. Everyone, meet my alcoholic, half- witted, abusive father. "I was too busy, so you gotta go get 'em yourself, kid!"
"Too busy what?" I shouted. "Drinking again?! Did you spend the money I gave you for the tickets on the alcohol?" I knew it was pointless. Dad was more stubborn than I was, arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. I threw up my arms in disgust, just to vent some rage, and stomped out of his room as he lay lazily on his bed.
"And get me an aspirin, boy!"
"Do it yourself, old man!" I retaliated. "If you aren't even gonna get something for me, I'm sure as hell not getting you an aspirin! See how YOU like it!" Jecht cursed at me, and I could hear as he knocked over the night stand, probably on purpose, and tried to get out of bed. As I walked into the kitchen to grab some water and an aspirin (for myself, of course), my mothers greeted me from the stove, cooking some food.
"He's had another rough night." Spoke my mother. Her name was Shera, and she was probably the only thing that kept our house together. She absolutely adored my old man, although I couldn't see anything in him she liked. She had a job, while pops stayed at home all day watching TV, going out, and drinking from an always-present alcoholic canteen. I wonder how she ended up with my father. "Please, just do it this once, just give him some aspirin."
"Aw, come on mom!" I cried in response. "Pops didn't get the tickets, so now I have to get out of here with Wakka and buy them with more of my own money!"
My mother grinned at me mischievously, but regained a serious facial expression after she handed me some little white pieces of paper that looked like train tickets. "I knew he wouldn't do it, so I took your money from him and got them myself. . .without his knowing, of course. But I'll only give them to you if you get him an aspirin, okay?"
I couldn't believe it. My mom just took both our asses out of the frying pan and landed us at home free. "R-really? These are. . .mine?" Despite that I had, in my opinion, the goofiest smile, I smiled my brightest and bounded off to the room, nearly colliding with my old man along the way.
"Slow down kiddo, you're gonna hurt someone." He snorted.
Yeah, well. . ." I muttered. "Here." I tried handing him the glass and aspirin, but I noticed only one hand was free to take them. The other was holding a sword, an old "trophy" of his that I had only seen him use once or twice.
"Here's the deal. You trade me them aspirin, then I'll give you this sword here." Offered my father, mustering a weak smile. I looked at him warily, but I decided against suspicion and took the sword, handing him the glass and capsules.
"This is your sword." I replied, trying to hand it back to him. I bet it was all rusty and old and decrepit. "I already have my own." I growled back. It seems like I was being hostile, but actually, this was about as calm as relations between me and the old man got.
"Listen kid, I'm sayin' take it!" Replied Jecht. "Think I want to give it to you? You're gonna break it I bet. But it's a good sword, maybe it can give some fightin' power to someone who needs it, y'know?" He growled in return.
"Whatever," I muttered, "fine, I'll take it." I retracted my hand, turned my back, and moved away. I heard my father almost whisper a gruff farewell and then I was beyond his sight as I darted down the stairs, my excitement returning almost instantly.
A moment later, I explained to Wakka, and we were gone.
As Shera stood at the door, her son not looking back once, she wondered if what she was doing the right choice. She scolded herself internally, knowing that this is what he wanted to do. "Please, don't get killed. . ." She whispered.
* * *
We were waiting for our train now, a half an hour later. Thoughts of excitement and glory replaced one another like generations of people, every thought springing up a new and better one. After all the things I had heard, I had good cause to be excited. But in his excitement, Wakka interrupted my deep thoughts of bravado.
"That ain't your sword, brudda." Wakka spoke. "Didn't steal it, did you?"
"Of course not, you goof." I laughed. "This. . .my old man gave it to me."
"Ah, that's good ya?" Wakka replied.
"Not really." I snorted. "Probably all rusty and stuff."
"Doubt that, man." Wakka replied. "This is a good sword. Not rusty one bit. Did you even look at it?" He held it in front of my face. I gasped in terror.
"No, Wakka!" I whispered furiously. "Someone's gonna think we're about to kill someone! Put it away!" I fumbled the sword and clumsily sheathed it again. I then hid it under a cloak, and clutched it tightly.
"Aw, come on man!" Wakka whined. "We're gonna put it back, ya? I jus' wanna take another good look!"
"You can look at it later!" I whispered in return. Wakka protested some more, but I ignored him. I think I was justified, because in our argument, we had failed to see the train had mired in the stop in front of us and was now closing its doors. I gasped, as did Wakka (once he saw the train) and we both dashed for it. I would have made it, but-
"My train!"
"Ooof!" I groaned as I collided with someone apparently making the same dash for the door as me and Wakka. We were both knocked to the floor, and Wakka was able to make the train, but he stopped, turned, and came back once he noticed I was missing.
I growled under my breath, prepared to curse at the stupid person who had just made me miss my train for the next hour. Man was I glad I didn't.
"Watch it, you-" Or maybe I almost did, but I didn't finish my sentence. Because as I got up and turned to the fallen person, I realized that she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was draped over her face as she tried to get to her feet, but I knew at once what she looked like. Years of experience kicked in.
"Uh. . .s-sorry!" I almost whimpered. Okay, everyone has their bad moments. I regained my composure, another reflex from my experience, and offered her my hand. She looked up, took it, and to my surprise, didn't even scowl at me.
"Oh! I'm so, so sorry!" she cried. She bent down to pick up my stuff. . .yes, my stuff, not hers, but mine. Talk about selfless. I kicked myself mentally and grabbed her stuff too, obviously having less trouble lifting her one measly suitcase than she did, trying vainly to lift my three heavily packed suitcases. I immediately snapped back into action.
"Oh, that's alright, I got it." I offered. She stood up, and I handed her suitcase back to her. I then bent over, lifted my things with ease, and hefted my cloak (the one with the sword wrapped up) and stood back up. For the first time, I noticed her eyes. Those beautiful, deep pools of light. One green eye, one blue eye. Her eyes lightened up her naturally soft and somewhat pale complexion, and her light brown hair swayed in the breeze. Her slender mouth was pursed in worry and anticipation. I smiled back at her.
"Are you alright?"
The woman smiled and nodded, apparently relieved that I had not gotten angry at her. "I'm fine, but it looks like we missed our train! Oh shoot, I was so excited to going to Balamb Garden!"
I couldn't believe it. An unspeakably beautiful woman was going to the same school as me? A military school? Oh man, I hoped it wasn't too much to ask for her to be into longswords like me.
She dusted her long dress skirt off, and looked back up at me. "Um, I'm really sorry." She apologized, bowing. "I hope. . .may I ask your name?"
"Me?" I stuttered. "The name's Tidus."
"Tidus. . ." She echoed, as if it recalled something. "My name is Yuna." She offered her delicate hand and I took it, grateful she wasn't pissed, like she should have been. Like most people would have. Thing is, I didn't know yet how much Yuna was different than most people. *Man, I am never washing this hand again. But damn, perfect time to lose my charm!* I thought.
"Nice to meet you, Tidus." Yuna commented. "Where were you going?" She clasped her hands at her waist, almost as if from nervousness.
"Me? Oh, I'm going to Balamb Garden too." I replied, pointing my thumb in the direction the now-distant train was heading.
"Oh, that's amazing!" Yuna exclaimed. "I am, as well! What are you going to do there?"
"Well, I'm taking a specialized course in Longsword Training." I answered.
"Well, I'm already trained in white magic. . ." Yuna explained. "But I'm going in for an advanced White Magic Course, and a beginners course for Summoning. Hey, they always pair longsword users and healers up, maybe we'll be in the same team once or twice!"
All this time, we both forgot about Wakka, who was standing there, cross- armed, tapping his feet impatiently on the concrete terrain. "Kids, nice ta know you two are gettin' along, but mind if I cut in? We should be sittin', we've got a half hour to go."
After I introduced Yuna and Wakka to each other, well, rather she introduced herself to him and I commented how she was going to Balamb Garden, as was he, we sat down on a nearby bench. The wind was blowing slightly, but it was a completely cloudless day in the middle of spring, making all the more fitting for our meeting. Over the train tracks we could see beautiful fields of grass, and behind us lay the city in which I had come from, a serene, peaceful, seaside resort town.
Well, when the train arrived, it took a little prodding from Wakka to get us out of our conversation, but we both hurried on, and made it to our train. We separated there, and silently I hoped we could meet up again. Little did I know that that day, everything changed. For me, but mostly for her.