I was going through old notebooks and found this piece, along with many others which I intend to burn, but this one passed my critical eyes. I hope you like it. I am adding it to the Jecht-piece simply because I think they fit well together, but they should be read separately instead of being considered two chapters of the same thing.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or placenames that appear in this fic: they all belong to Square-Enix and I am taking no financial gain from this piece of fiction.
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"This is your world now..."
It was long since it had been his: he had done his time, served long enough. For ten long years he had wandered Spira waiting for the arrival of a dream, wondering whether he had made the right choice in lingering on.
The dream had come, in the form of a child unaware of his own existence, the dream of the Fayth who dreamed of long-gone Zanarkand, the city lost a thousand years ago. He was fortunate to have seen it twice in a lifetime when many never saw it once, but he would gladly trade that privilege for one less experience. In that city he had lost his life, lost his breath, and gained a hollow promise.
Life as an unsent had been restless.
There wasn't a road in Spira that he hadn't travelled, no path unknown. From the temples in Besaid, the domed roofs that housed hope, to the vast, torn plains of the Calm Lands where generations before him had met the threat of Sin, to the silent peaks of Mount Gagazet, the holy mountain that kissed the sky.
He had watched the lives of Al Bhed in the scorching sands, the quiet existence of the Guado hidden away from the sun and men living each day in the fear that it might be their last.
Blitzball games he had never had time to watch before he had watched now, he'd seen places he had never seen, he had met, seemingly, everyone alive in the world. He had lived more after his death than he ever had while alive, but it had been hollow living. The sun had risen and set on cold bones and dead eyes, and he had waited.
But it was over now. It was ultimately, irrevocably over.
No more fighting to keep the illusion alive. No more frightened search for a heartbeat that wasn't there. Tomorrow would come and he would not be present to watch it crawl over the horizon.
The last few weeks of his existence had been hectic, tiring without one moment of peace. Faces both familiar and unknown had passed before his gaze, and he had learned anew. Religion had become a word for hypocrisy, solemn sorrow came with a million belts and a smile like a razor blade, and he guarded once more the hope, the light of the spiralling world.
The dream had come and with it the end of his unsent life.
It was time to join Jecht in the Farplane, to finally rest his weary bones, put down his katana and catch up on days past.
"It has been long enough...."