"M. . . Mahri. . . that's you, isn't it?"
"Yeah, grandpa. Do you have somewhere I can wash up, perchance?"
"B-Bay water. . . all I have. . ."
"Thanks, grandpa. You're the best. Sorry about the mess I tracked in." Mahri tightened his hug ever so slightly, and vanished again, dripping blood in his wake.
O'aka, mind racing with attempts to explain what had just happened, simply collapsed.
---
After having bathed in the cool, vacant ocean waters – he did not particularly enjoy the salty texture of his skin afterwards, but, he'd gone through enough in his life that a little discomfort hardly mattered at this point – Mahri returned and retrieved his grandfather from the floor, depositing him gently into bed and sliding the old, bedraggled rocker in from the living room. He wanted patiently for some minutes until O'aka revived, and opened his eyes.
"Hiya, grandpa. You feeling any better?" Mahri wiped O'aka's head off with a moist scrap of cloth he'd found lying around, lest the old man had a fever of some sort.
"Y. . . yes, my boy. . . oh, Mahri, you're alive; I always thought you and Celina. . ."
The mention of his sister's name instantly darkened Mahri's features. The raw power that hid behind those swirling eyes began to emerge again. "Only I got out. Celina is quite dead."
O'aka cringed, both at Mahri's rage and the validation of his greatest fear. Indeed, Celina had long since departed from this world. Had he not always known, though? Preacher was a merciless man, after all: being carried off by him surely meant an instant death. And yet. . . and yet. . . he had never been absolutely certain. Up until now. A few tears threatened to gather at the corners of O'aka's eyes. "I see. . . I-I'm sorry, lad."
Mahri's face relaxed a bit, reassuming it's original composure. "Don't worry about it." He rose from the rocker and began to pace a bit. "I have. . . balanced the sheets, as it were. Celina will sleep peacefully from now on."
And then, O'aka remembered. Mahri had entered absolutely drenched in blood, hadn't he? "I killed them all, grandpa. Every last one." Stunned horror began to set in, one that scarcely allowed him to draw breath. "M. . . Mahri. . . you didn't. . ."
"Oh," O'aka's companion whispered, his back to the decrepit man, watching the sea out of a cracked, smeared window, "but I did."
---
Max shuddered. Mahri sounded like a right nut. He had trouble not picturing the younger man with a vicious grin on his face. Yet, as O'aka rambled on, he knew Mahri had not displayed even the slightest bit of emotion when he spoke. Not the slightest bit.
---
Mahri had then proceeded to relate everything to O'aka: his delivery of the head, his hiding in the jungle, his stealthy trek through the village, and, in particular, his cruel torture of the Preacher. All with a businesslike calm that rendered O'aka utterly mute.
His tale complete, Mahri sat upon the floor, legs crossed neatly, watching his grandpa. O'aka had gone white with fear. His mouth opened, as though ready to speak, and then closed. He could not form the words. Perhaps he didn't actually know what to say. Regardless, they sat in silence for a good five minutes before O'aka managed his first, incredulous word.
"W-W-W-Why?"
Mahri's eyes shut slowly. "For my sister. Why else? The Preacher deserved every last pain I inflicted on him, rest assured, grandpa. You would have helped me, had you seen the things I saw those many years ago."
O'aka watched his grandson a moment, all traces of the shy little boy he'd once known wiped away and yet completely present before him simultaneously, and collapsed with a bounce onto his bed. "Bloody hell, Mahri."
"Yes, it was quite bloody."
"Poor, poor joke, lad."
Mahri laughed. It was a surprisingly warm laugh, all things considered. "Sorry, grandpa. But. . . really, it wasn't just Celina they took away from me then. She's not the only reason. I. . ." - and here Mahri sounded a little shy and withdrawn – ". . . I lost you, too."
O'aka was still. He couldn't help but smile mournfully. "You shouldn't have done it, lad."
Mahri rose. "Yes, I knew you'd say that. But. . . it was the only thing I could do. In all my years, I've learned that there's only one real rule in the universe: an eye for an eye. Tit for tat. Nothing will change that rule, grandpa, not in my mind."
O'aka couldn't respond to that. Mahri didn't expect him to, either. They sat in utter silence, yet the room was abuzz with communication, and through it all, O'aka knew.
"You're not done yet, are you?"
Mahri's head drooped. There was a fire in his eyes again, and though O'aka could not see it he knew it to be as fundamentally true as the fact that Mahri was just beginning his campaign of revenge. "No. No, I'm far from done. This – "he waved his hands to encompass the entire island, "– this was just a precursor. It was my first act of atonement on the part of those I killed. You have been avenged, after being stuck in this damnable barrier, just for loving a pair of orphans: and Celina, her death has been atoned for. I made sure of it." He wrung his hands in anguish, the veins on his arms standing out. "But. . . there's so much more. . . I have two more targets, before I am done, grandpa. . ."
---
Max paused. "Two? You mean he's killing two more people? What else bad has happened to him?"
O'aka could not have looked more pale. "Just wait, my boy. Your answer is coming."
---
"Two more. . . because, I must avenge my parents: and who destroyed my parents?"
"Sin." O'aka whispered hoarsely. The boy must have been utterly mad, but he wasn't, and O'aka knew that, too.
"Yes," Mahri hissed, his voice full of venomous hatred, "I'm going to destroy that damned monster. . . I don't care what people say, I'm going to do it."
"But how?" O'aka exclaimed, leaping up. "It's suicide, Mahri! You're just going to get yourself killed! Not even the Summoners can stop Sin for long, and they bloody well give their lives to do it! How the devil can you. . . you. . ." He trailed off, coughing.
"You hit the nail on the head there, grandpa." Mahri was quiet, almost meditative. "The Summoners. They can't kill Sin, but they stop it. And how? What power is it that allows them to do this? A 'Final Aeon'? Something tells me they can do better than that. Far, far better. They're just restricted by their teachings. Their narrow-minded Yevonite doctrines. But I," and this he whispered, as though imparting a divine secret, "I am not restricted as such. There is no rule that says that I cannot kill Sin myself. All I need do. . . is grow powerful. There is always something stronger than yourself. The same can easily be said of Sin. I just need to become that thing which Sin will learn to fear."
O'aka's coughing abated. His spirit, long since diminished from the years of isolation, crumbled entirely. "Mahri. . . how?"
"Zanarkand. I will go to Zanarkand. And I will learn the secret of Sin from Yunalesca herself. No living being in infallible: and if anybody knows how to kill Sin, she will." Mahri finished with a deep breath, cracking his knuckles loudly.
O'aka lay back, eyes blurred and unfocused. "Zanarkand. . . pure suicide, my boy, you're no Summoner, you can't go on a pilgrimage. . ."
Mahri grinned boyishly. "I know. And that is why I will succeed, grandpa. And with the power I acquire from defeating Sin, I shall crush my third, my final, target. . . one that I began raining vengeance down upon this very night. . ."
O'aka was very close to tears now. The anguish this boy had put him through was unbearable. "Who is your third target, Mahri?"
Mahri paused, collecting every trace of malice and hatred that made up the very essence of his being, and coalescing it all into one, insidious sentence.
"Yevon. I will destroy all of Yevon, for the crime of persecuting my people, the Al Bhed."
---
"Holy shit, he's nuts."
O'aka sighed deeply. "I wish, my boy. No, Mahri knew exactly what he was doing. He's not insane, he's just misguided: his adherence to 'an eye for an eye' pushed him to bring an end to Yevon, the faith that has restricted his people for so long."
Max was dumbstruck. One man destroying an entire religion? How did one destroy ideals? It was impossible, so long as a single person managed to hold them at the end of the day. "That. . . that's impossible, isn't it?"
O'aka nodded. "It is. I think he more wants to destroy the Temple system, really, the thing that dictates Al Bhed are less than human. He's not gonna hunt down every last Yevonite."
Max, despite the fact that O'aka was Mahri's adopted grandfather, could not help but say, "He must be really, really stupid if he thinks he can do that."
O'aka only shrugged. "I thought that at first, too. Now, though. . . I think I'm more afraid of the fact that he could succeed." He turned to Max, staring him down squarely. "You don't understand until you've seen Mahri's eyes. They dare you to try and stop him. Because he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you can't."
---
"Mahri, you haven't thought this through. You must be delusional-"
"No!" The word shook the house like thunder, an emphatic denial that caused O'aka to involuntarily cower. "Those damned Yevonites, all they do is push us down and back, not giving us any space to grow, to live – "he stabbed a finger out the window "– to exist! We have as much right to live our lives peacefully! They're the fools, the ones who send out their Summoners to die just so the rest can have a temporary repose from Sin. They're the ones that blame the Al Bhed, who simply want to use machina to make their miserable existence just a little nicer, for bringing some unworldly, ungodly creature into existence. How dare they? Sin, an act of punishment for putting machina to use? How utterly ridiculous." He spat upon the floor and lowered his voice. "For their idiocy, for everything they've done, I will make them pay. The Yevon Temple, when I am finished, will lie crumpled at my feet. An eye for an eye."
O'aka was speechless. His horror had reached a peak.
Mahri turned. He gazed at the frail old man who he'd spooked beyond belief. The regret for doing so was instantly evident. "I'm sorry, grandpa. I don't want to do it, either. I. . . I just wanted a normal life, with a nice family. . . but they stripped me of that. I must make them pay."
Passing by the bedside, he dropped a packet on the sheets. "This contains a nullifier for the barrier spell out there. Just sprinkle a bit of the dust on one and the devices they used will fail. There's also more than enough money to get you off this dead island: use it to buy yourself a nice apartment somewhere. Just... avoid any Temples, if you would." A rueful, sad smile stretched over Mahri's face. "Go, grandpa, and live your last days in the world. I hope they are far more pleasant than what you had to go through in this hell."
Mahri strode out of the room. O'aka could not follow, rooted as he was in bed. Mahri's final words to the old man, quiet though they were, floated out of the den with a ghostly finality. "Thank you. I never said it, the spoiled little fool that I was, when last we were together. I truly valued your company." O'aka heard the heavy hefting of Mahri's gigantic scimitar onto his back, and he was gone.
O'aka did not dare to move for over an hour, still frozen in time. The packet lay unattended by his side. Eventually, he began to weep.
That night felt colder than any previous one, and as he cried, O'aka shivered abysmally, lamenting his failure that had destroyed Mahri the boy and created Mahri the beast.
---
O'aka, his tale told, fell back gently in the rocker. Max, looking down, realized that the old man had been right. It was a story he was not liable to forget any time soon.
"So. . . if he gave you that powder, how come you haven't left yet?" Max inquired softly.
O'aka waved a frail, bony hand in dismissal. "I don't see a point in it anymore. I'm. . . not long for this life, lad. I'm surprised even Mahri didn't see that. Even had they not trapped me inside here, I realized, a long time ago, that my place was here, in this secluded little corner of this damnable island. That's not to say I didn't try to escape, of course: for at least a month I tried. I tried to go under the barrier, by digging, only to find that I couldn't even get that close: it just kept tossing me back. I tried to swim out, around it, but that damnable wall just kept on stretching forever, and my energy ran out too quickly." He sighed. "I didn't even know it, but when Preacher and his goons showed up, he had a bunch of them pillaging my possessions. They took all my tools, wrecked my boat, even stole my money. . . real kind Yevonites, eh?" He bitterly grumbled at the thought, as though reliving the day in his mind.
"But you could still at least – "
"No, lad." O'aka hushed max with his suddenly powerful voice, weary though it was. "This place has been my home for over twenty years now. It'll be my grave, too. And soon. But. . ." –and at this point, O'aka looked infinitely older – "I feel it's my obligation to stop Mahri. I have to. It was. . . all my fault, that those twins wound up like that. . ."
Max was appalled. "But you can't go chasing after that guy! You're too damned old-"
"Exactly, my lad, exactly. I'm too old. I doubt I'd survive the boat ride back to the mainland now. I'm. . . done with life, frankly. I was too much of a coward to stop nourishing myself over those long years in here, but now, I'm ready to go. But I have to stop Mahri, somehow, before he gets himself killed because of my mistakes. That's why. . . Maximilian Letouchas, I need your strength. Please."
Max was taken aback. "Wha?"
"Please. Find Mahri. Persuade him not to do this for me. I, I can't do it. My old bones don't have the power to chase after him. But you're young and strong still, you can keep up with him. He's going to Zanarkand, you can chase him there-"
"Whoa whoa whoa! Are you crazy? I can't do that, he'd kick my ass! Besides, I'm a reporter, not some mad adventurer. I do have a job to do. Once I get back to the mainland, I'm gonna tell this whole thing, and my paper'll be back in business, and I'll be in the limelight." He shook his hands manically. "I can't do it, I just can't. I'm sorry, but, I'll make sure that the authorities-"
"You remind me of her."
Max paused. "What?"
"You. You're just like Celina. Full of energy and sass. Even your eyes, they might look completely different, but when a body takes a nice, long gander into them, you can see they're almost identical. I know, that if anybody can tell Mahri he's wrong, it's you, lad." O'aka's voice was full of satisfied conviction. "If I hadn't figured as much, I wouldn't have told you a single word of this. Of any of it."
Max sniffed. "Man, that's not very fair."
O'aka smiled kindly at that. "I know, lad. It isn't. But it's all I can rely on, because it's the ruddy truth. You don't have to do it, of course. I'm not going to force you, as if I could. But. . . please, don't refuse this final request from an old man."
Lurching forward, he took Max's hands into his own. "Save my grandson. Before he destroys himself. Or worse."
"Yeah, grandpa. Do you have somewhere I can wash up, perchance?"
"B-Bay water. . . all I have. . ."
"Thanks, grandpa. You're the best. Sorry about the mess I tracked in." Mahri tightened his hug ever so slightly, and vanished again, dripping blood in his wake.
O'aka, mind racing with attempts to explain what had just happened, simply collapsed.
---
After having bathed in the cool, vacant ocean waters – he did not particularly enjoy the salty texture of his skin afterwards, but, he'd gone through enough in his life that a little discomfort hardly mattered at this point – Mahri returned and retrieved his grandfather from the floor, depositing him gently into bed and sliding the old, bedraggled rocker in from the living room. He wanted patiently for some minutes until O'aka revived, and opened his eyes.
"Hiya, grandpa. You feeling any better?" Mahri wiped O'aka's head off with a moist scrap of cloth he'd found lying around, lest the old man had a fever of some sort.
"Y. . . yes, my boy. . . oh, Mahri, you're alive; I always thought you and Celina. . ."
The mention of his sister's name instantly darkened Mahri's features. The raw power that hid behind those swirling eyes began to emerge again. "Only I got out. Celina is quite dead."
O'aka cringed, both at Mahri's rage and the validation of his greatest fear. Indeed, Celina had long since departed from this world. Had he not always known, though? Preacher was a merciless man, after all: being carried off by him surely meant an instant death. And yet. . . and yet. . . he had never been absolutely certain. Up until now. A few tears threatened to gather at the corners of O'aka's eyes. "I see. . . I-I'm sorry, lad."
Mahri's face relaxed a bit, reassuming it's original composure. "Don't worry about it." He rose from the rocker and began to pace a bit. "I have. . . balanced the sheets, as it were. Celina will sleep peacefully from now on."
And then, O'aka remembered. Mahri had entered absolutely drenched in blood, hadn't he? "I killed them all, grandpa. Every last one." Stunned horror began to set in, one that scarcely allowed him to draw breath. "M. . . Mahri. . . you didn't. . ."
"Oh," O'aka's companion whispered, his back to the decrepit man, watching the sea out of a cracked, smeared window, "but I did."
---
Max shuddered. Mahri sounded like a right nut. He had trouble not picturing the younger man with a vicious grin on his face. Yet, as O'aka rambled on, he knew Mahri had not displayed even the slightest bit of emotion when he spoke. Not the slightest bit.
---
Mahri had then proceeded to relate everything to O'aka: his delivery of the head, his hiding in the jungle, his stealthy trek through the village, and, in particular, his cruel torture of the Preacher. All with a businesslike calm that rendered O'aka utterly mute.
His tale complete, Mahri sat upon the floor, legs crossed neatly, watching his grandpa. O'aka had gone white with fear. His mouth opened, as though ready to speak, and then closed. He could not form the words. Perhaps he didn't actually know what to say. Regardless, they sat in silence for a good five minutes before O'aka managed his first, incredulous word.
"W-W-W-Why?"
Mahri's eyes shut slowly. "For my sister. Why else? The Preacher deserved every last pain I inflicted on him, rest assured, grandpa. You would have helped me, had you seen the things I saw those many years ago."
O'aka watched his grandson a moment, all traces of the shy little boy he'd once known wiped away and yet completely present before him simultaneously, and collapsed with a bounce onto his bed. "Bloody hell, Mahri."
"Yes, it was quite bloody."
"Poor, poor joke, lad."
Mahri laughed. It was a surprisingly warm laugh, all things considered. "Sorry, grandpa. But. . . really, it wasn't just Celina they took away from me then. She's not the only reason. I. . ." - and here Mahri sounded a little shy and withdrawn – ". . . I lost you, too."
O'aka was still. He couldn't help but smile mournfully. "You shouldn't have done it, lad."
Mahri rose. "Yes, I knew you'd say that. But. . . it was the only thing I could do. In all my years, I've learned that there's only one real rule in the universe: an eye for an eye. Tit for tat. Nothing will change that rule, grandpa, not in my mind."
O'aka couldn't respond to that. Mahri didn't expect him to, either. They sat in utter silence, yet the room was abuzz with communication, and through it all, O'aka knew.
"You're not done yet, are you?"
Mahri's head drooped. There was a fire in his eyes again, and though O'aka could not see it he knew it to be as fundamentally true as the fact that Mahri was just beginning his campaign of revenge. "No. No, I'm far from done. This – "he waved his hands to encompass the entire island, "– this was just a precursor. It was my first act of atonement on the part of those I killed. You have been avenged, after being stuck in this damnable barrier, just for loving a pair of orphans: and Celina, her death has been atoned for. I made sure of it." He wrung his hands in anguish, the veins on his arms standing out. "But. . . there's so much more. . . I have two more targets, before I am done, grandpa. . ."
---
Max paused. "Two? You mean he's killing two more people? What else bad has happened to him?"
O'aka could not have looked more pale. "Just wait, my boy. Your answer is coming."
---
"Two more. . . because, I must avenge my parents: and who destroyed my parents?"
"Sin." O'aka whispered hoarsely. The boy must have been utterly mad, but he wasn't, and O'aka knew that, too.
"Yes," Mahri hissed, his voice full of venomous hatred, "I'm going to destroy that damned monster. . . I don't care what people say, I'm going to do it."
"But how?" O'aka exclaimed, leaping up. "It's suicide, Mahri! You're just going to get yourself killed! Not even the Summoners can stop Sin for long, and they bloody well give their lives to do it! How the devil can you. . . you. . ." He trailed off, coughing.
"You hit the nail on the head there, grandpa." Mahri was quiet, almost meditative. "The Summoners. They can't kill Sin, but they stop it. And how? What power is it that allows them to do this? A 'Final Aeon'? Something tells me they can do better than that. Far, far better. They're just restricted by their teachings. Their narrow-minded Yevonite doctrines. But I," and this he whispered, as though imparting a divine secret, "I am not restricted as such. There is no rule that says that I cannot kill Sin myself. All I need do. . . is grow powerful. There is always something stronger than yourself. The same can easily be said of Sin. I just need to become that thing which Sin will learn to fear."
O'aka's coughing abated. His spirit, long since diminished from the years of isolation, crumbled entirely. "Mahri. . . how?"
"Zanarkand. I will go to Zanarkand. And I will learn the secret of Sin from Yunalesca herself. No living being in infallible: and if anybody knows how to kill Sin, she will." Mahri finished with a deep breath, cracking his knuckles loudly.
O'aka lay back, eyes blurred and unfocused. "Zanarkand. . . pure suicide, my boy, you're no Summoner, you can't go on a pilgrimage. . ."
Mahri grinned boyishly. "I know. And that is why I will succeed, grandpa. And with the power I acquire from defeating Sin, I shall crush my third, my final, target. . . one that I began raining vengeance down upon this very night. . ."
O'aka was very close to tears now. The anguish this boy had put him through was unbearable. "Who is your third target, Mahri?"
Mahri paused, collecting every trace of malice and hatred that made up the very essence of his being, and coalescing it all into one, insidious sentence.
"Yevon. I will destroy all of Yevon, for the crime of persecuting my people, the Al Bhed."
---
"Holy shit, he's nuts."
O'aka sighed deeply. "I wish, my boy. No, Mahri knew exactly what he was doing. He's not insane, he's just misguided: his adherence to 'an eye for an eye' pushed him to bring an end to Yevon, the faith that has restricted his people for so long."
Max was dumbstruck. One man destroying an entire religion? How did one destroy ideals? It was impossible, so long as a single person managed to hold them at the end of the day. "That. . . that's impossible, isn't it?"
O'aka nodded. "It is. I think he more wants to destroy the Temple system, really, the thing that dictates Al Bhed are less than human. He's not gonna hunt down every last Yevonite."
Max, despite the fact that O'aka was Mahri's adopted grandfather, could not help but say, "He must be really, really stupid if he thinks he can do that."
O'aka only shrugged. "I thought that at first, too. Now, though. . . I think I'm more afraid of the fact that he could succeed." He turned to Max, staring him down squarely. "You don't understand until you've seen Mahri's eyes. They dare you to try and stop him. Because he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you can't."
---
"Mahri, you haven't thought this through. You must be delusional-"
"No!" The word shook the house like thunder, an emphatic denial that caused O'aka to involuntarily cower. "Those damned Yevonites, all they do is push us down and back, not giving us any space to grow, to live – "he stabbed a finger out the window "– to exist! We have as much right to live our lives peacefully! They're the fools, the ones who send out their Summoners to die just so the rest can have a temporary repose from Sin. They're the ones that blame the Al Bhed, who simply want to use machina to make their miserable existence just a little nicer, for bringing some unworldly, ungodly creature into existence. How dare they? Sin, an act of punishment for putting machina to use? How utterly ridiculous." He spat upon the floor and lowered his voice. "For their idiocy, for everything they've done, I will make them pay. The Yevon Temple, when I am finished, will lie crumpled at my feet. An eye for an eye."
O'aka was speechless. His horror had reached a peak.
Mahri turned. He gazed at the frail old man who he'd spooked beyond belief. The regret for doing so was instantly evident. "I'm sorry, grandpa. I don't want to do it, either. I. . . I just wanted a normal life, with a nice family. . . but they stripped me of that. I must make them pay."
Passing by the bedside, he dropped a packet on the sheets. "This contains a nullifier for the barrier spell out there. Just sprinkle a bit of the dust on one and the devices they used will fail. There's also more than enough money to get you off this dead island: use it to buy yourself a nice apartment somewhere. Just... avoid any Temples, if you would." A rueful, sad smile stretched over Mahri's face. "Go, grandpa, and live your last days in the world. I hope they are far more pleasant than what you had to go through in this hell."
Mahri strode out of the room. O'aka could not follow, rooted as he was in bed. Mahri's final words to the old man, quiet though they were, floated out of the den with a ghostly finality. "Thank you. I never said it, the spoiled little fool that I was, when last we were together. I truly valued your company." O'aka heard the heavy hefting of Mahri's gigantic scimitar onto his back, and he was gone.
O'aka did not dare to move for over an hour, still frozen in time. The packet lay unattended by his side. Eventually, he began to weep.
That night felt colder than any previous one, and as he cried, O'aka shivered abysmally, lamenting his failure that had destroyed Mahri the boy and created Mahri the beast.
---
O'aka, his tale told, fell back gently in the rocker. Max, looking down, realized that the old man had been right. It was a story he was not liable to forget any time soon.
"So. . . if he gave you that powder, how come you haven't left yet?" Max inquired softly.
O'aka waved a frail, bony hand in dismissal. "I don't see a point in it anymore. I'm. . . not long for this life, lad. I'm surprised even Mahri didn't see that. Even had they not trapped me inside here, I realized, a long time ago, that my place was here, in this secluded little corner of this damnable island. That's not to say I didn't try to escape, of course: for at least a month I tried. I tried to go under the barrier, by digging, only to find that I couldn't even get that close: it just kept tossing me back. I tried to swim out, around it, but that damnable wall just kept on stretching forever, and my energy ran out too quickly." He sighed. "I didn't even know it, but when Preacher and his goons showed up, he had a bunch of them pillaging my possessions. They took all my tools, wrecked my boat, even stole my money. . . real kind Yevonites, eh?" He bitterly grumbled at the thought, as though reliving the day in his mind.
"But you could still at least – "
"No, lad." O'aka hushed max with his suddenly powerful voice, weary though it was. "This place has been my home for over twenty years now. It'll be my grave, too. And soon. But. . ." –and at this point, O'aka looked infinitely older – "I feel it's my obligation to stop Mahri. I have to. It was. . . all my fault, that those twins wound up like that. . ."
Max was appalled. "But you can't go chasing after that guy! You're too damned old-"
"Exactly, my lad, exactly. I'm too old. I doubt I'd survive the boat ride back to the mainland now. I'm. . . done with life, frankly. I was too much of a coward to stop nourishing myself over those long years in here, but now, I'm ready to go. But I have to stop Mahri, somehow, before he gets himself killed because of my mistakes. That's why. . . Maximilian Letouchas, I need your strength. Please."
Max was taken aback. "Wha?"
"Please. Find Mahri. Persuade him not to do this for me. I, I can't do it. My old bones don't have the power to chase after him. But you're young and strong still, you can keep up with him. He's going to Zanarkand, you can chase him there-"
"Whoa whoa whoa! Are you crazy? I can't do that, he'd kick my ass! Besides, I'm a reporter, not some mad adventurer. I do have a job to do. Once I get back to the mainland, I'm gonna tell this whole thing, and my paper'll be back in business, and I'll be in the limelight." He shook his hands manically. "I can't do it, I just can't. I'm sorry, but, I'll make sure that the authorities-"
"You remind me of her."
Max paused. "What?"
"You. You're just like Celina. Full of energy and sass. Even your eyes, they might look completely different, but when a body takes a nice, long gander into them, you can see they're almost identical. I know, that if anybody can tell Mahri he's wrong, it's you, lad." O'aka's voice was full of satisfied conviction. "If I hadn't figured as much, I wouldn't have told you a single word of this. Of any of it."
Max sniffed. "Man, that's not very fair."
O'aka smiled kindly at that. "I know, lad. It isn't. But it's all I can rely on, because it's the ruddy truth. You don't have to do it, of course. I'm not going to force you, as if I could. But. . . please, don't refuse this final request from an old man."
Lurching forward, he took Max's hands into his own. "Save my grandson. Before he destroys himself. Or worse."