I
JECHT MEMORIAL TOURNAMENT
The young boy stood in the line just like the others. He was waiting patiently, even for his age, to get a chance to see the famous tournament. He didn't share the same ambitions like his peers, he wasn't good at playing the game, but he knew and respected it just the same. Blitzball was the epicenter of entertainment in Zanarkand. It attracted people from every corner of the world, drawing money that reached the sum of billions for just one game. It's a no-wonder that Zanarkand itself is the most advanced metropolis in the world. It defied the very nature of reality, built in the middle of the ocean, over the most unstable geological site around.
The young boy, unconcerned of any of this, remained calm as the line barely moved. His young eyes searched around. He didn't care that he was standing on a highway hovering by anti-gravitation generators which wove through a labyrinth of heaven seeking skyscrapers. Or did he care that the architecture of each building inhabited some integrated man-made water fall which crashed back into the ocean below. Neither did he know nor care that the city possessed moisture vacuums to control the weather, causing the city to have never-ending view of the stars above. He didn't care because he knew that he would not live anywhere else, and there wasn't a city out there that could compare. This was his home.
Standing for hours caused others to become restless, and the young boy only listened.
"I hope the Zanarkand Abes don't loose this tournament . . . " One elder man rumbled. His voice was exactly the way he looked. Definitely an outsider. "Back then, everyone put all their money on that game, and lost it just as quickly."
The young boy, unfamiliar with the story, continued to listen with keen interest.
"Ah, I know what your thinkin'" One responded above the boy. "And your wrong. It wasn't Jechts fault that they lost. It was a mistake made on the teams."
"Well, Jecht was the captain of the team, why didn't hey call a time out and negotiate a new call." A young teenager protested.
"That's because he was lazy. He was scared of the Duggles." One boasted. "He knew in his heart that he was going to loose."
"But he doesn't run the team, he was just the captain. And a captain for the Zanarkand Abes is just a motivator, a person to keep the energy flowing." Another began. "I think the coach should have done a better job planning the maneuvers."
The line moved slightly.
"Look. Jecht was a coward. I heard even he had a bad reputation with his wife and son." One spit.
"That was because he was involved into the game. It was his passion." Another said, easing into the conversation.
The boy grinned.
"I was in a coffee shop," One declared over everyone else. He chuckled for a moment, his smooth features showing his nativeness to the city. "I was running away from home when I heard the news. Now, I don't know about all of you, but my hero at the time was Jecht. He was the best thing that ever happened to Blitzball. He brought the Zanarkand Abes out of a one year slump. When I heard that he'd disappeared, vanished into thin air, I was devastated."
Everyone hushed their voices, listening, relating themselves to the story. "My dad must have been the biggest fan. I knew how sad he'd be. Heck, we all were the day."
Everyone nodded, muttering words like "Yeah" and "I hear ya."
"'Zanar' I said to myself. 'What are you thinking,'" The man continued. "I went running straight back home to my father. We sat up talking 'bout Jecht all night. My dad and I never talked so much."
Everyone suddenly was stricken with the feeling of guilt.
"So, if your going to talk about Jecht, I suggest you remember what he did for us, what he did for this city." Then he looked down at the young boy. "Because that way the children will respect our new star of Blitzball."
The boy smiled. He knew whom he was talking about.
The man looked at the others proudly. "In just one year, he's become the teams number one player! He's Jechts blood and the new hope of Blitzball. I wonder if we'll see his father's legendary shot. And even if we don't get into the stadium tonight, I believe this new star will go far . . . far beyond any of us."
The boy could hardly wait.
A cool breeze rushed past his face, feeling the wind loosen his features. He didn't care to open his eyes. He enjoyed the feeling, like a scheduled routine he committed before each game. It helped him concentrate. It pushed out all attaching emotions. He didn't need to do it for very long, just until he could clear his mind of question and doubt. When he opened his eyes, he saw the icy waters whipping and breaking against the hull of the water-shuttle. His blue eyes gradually focused on the driver who eased into a small harbor.
The wind died into a small flutter which tugged slightly at the seventeen year olds sandy blond hair. A jewel spectacle ahead of him shined with intensity like a temple of the high gods. It was the grand Zanarkand Stadium.
Tall, bulky and devised of layered stone, the stadium looked to be made from giants. It wasn't the tallest of structures in Zanarkand for it was dwarfed by the skyscrapers littered throughout. However, its broad shoulder like arena seemed miles long and was displayed by soft colors of purple and blue. Within the walls of the stadium was where the Blitzball Tournament took place. The destination of the water-shuttle.
This is Squall Leonhart.
A renown Blitzball Player. A respectable teenager. And an intense carefree young man. Squall Leonhart possessed skills which most his age couldn't comprehend. Maybe that's because he has lived a life slightly unbalanced then most.
He was born and raised in Zanarkand mostly by his mother Raine. He always loved the memory of his mother, the times he has spent with her, the warm feeling to wake up with her; a never ending sense of compassion. They would go on explorations of Zanarkand, to see new buildings, or just to escape the riggers of house chores. Squall, even at a young age, suspected that his mother wasn't from Zanarkand and that probably her and his father moved here just before he was born. Why? He never knew. And he didn't care.
Squalls never did stray into the thought of the unknown. Why should he? He was always focused on the here and now. There was no reason to wonder off effortlessly.
And maybe that's why Squall never really tried to question the relation of his father. He was never home much, always practicing or reviewing the last Blitzball game with his buddies. Squall would later find out that Jecht was never really much of a husband either. But still, Squall never questioned his father's actions. But he did seek a way to come closer to him.
Squall became interested into Blitzball. He would sneak into his fathers trophy room and use his father's ball to practice his famous moves. He never did them right. But it boosted his confidence and motivation to continue practicing. He figured if he could justly play Blitzball, that maybe his father would finally accept him.
One fortunate day, Squall was in his backyard practicing when Jecht came home. Confused to see his trophy room missing his favorite Blitzball, he went to Squall. Embarrassed and assuming punishment, Squall slumped shouldered went back into the house. But it was in that moment when Jecht realized something. He had inspired his son.
"Well, well trying to follow in my footsteps are you?" Squall remembered Jecht boasting with his usual deep arrogant voice. The young Squall turned around, surprised at Jechts reaction. "I usually charge for lessons, you know . . . "
Jecht, in heart, was surprised to inspire his only son in a sport he loved so much. But, the game had morphed his character so dramatically, it was hard for him to speak in a manner that couldn't be described as any less then cocky. "That shot is done like this!"
Jecht had leapt into the air, and spun hard. He ended with a hard kick and the Blitzball slammed into the imaginary goal on the ground. Squall had been so totally surprised, his frown ignited into a smile. In his heart he knew that this was going to be the start of a new relationship with his father. He had succeeded in acquiring his dads attention. Maybe in time, Squall would be able to play along side his father.
But the love of the game consumed Jechts heart.
"You can't do it kid." Jecht had responded with haughtiness. "But don't worry, my boy. You're not the only one. No one else can do it. I'm the best."
The dream to have a relationship with his father died as quickly as it began. Squall had made a promise from that moment forth that he would prove his father wrong. That he would take his skill to the next level. And even though Squall was young and naive, he still possessed a maturity beyond his peers. He blames his father for such a skill.
And ten years from the day of his father mysterious disappearance, here he was, in the midst of a tournament. Squall had achieved his dream. He was the best Blitzer the world has ever seen. He was his father's son. And now his goal was to break himself from Jecht's limited boundaries. For, Jechts passion was to win the game. Squall Leonhart's passion was:
Freedom of the game.
The water-shuttle eased to the port and Squall, anxious to get to the stadium was already standing and reaching out to the dock. He lifted himself up and gave the pilot an approving look. He stepped forward, looking down the dock to see hundreds of fans waving props of all sorts, screaming and yelling which echoed with consistent bursts of his name. He smiled. If he loved anything else besides the freedom of the game, being the center of attention was another.
He stepped forward, anxiety running through his blood. He had played many Blitzball games, but still, every time he got nervous. He figured it had something to do with presenting himself to the way people liked. But on second thought, he figured quietly, that would mean I would have to act like my father.
He walked smoothly up to his increasing fans, all of which were held back by steel railing to provide room for him to walk. Even still, it wasn't enough space. He was met by a rushing of swirling hands, all seeking an autograph. Squall had made it a custom to find a people in the rage of passionate fans to give him his autograph too. That way, it made it seem more exciting and the same people would keep coming back. It was stardom thinking as Squall put it.
Moving swiftly through the crowd, and smiling occasionally to give some the false impression of affection, Squall laid his eyes on a couple cute girls. He couldn't ignore his juvenile heart's ambition. Therefore, without much thought, he approached the two girls.
"How are you two girls doin' tonight?" Squall asked casually. The two girls, in retrospect to his stardom, giggled lightly and pressed forward against the railing, holding out a Blitzball.
"Can I have your autograph?"
Squall smiled. "Of course!" He took the ball smoothly, swirled it on his finger and signed it dramatically. With a roll down his arm, he returned the Blitzball.
"Good luck tonight!" She smiled impeccably.
"Nothing to worry about." He responded off handedly.
The other girl, much cuter to Squalls eyes, held out her Blitzball timidly. Squall took the ball, signed it and slowly returned it. Without regard to possibly starting something that might end up catastrophically, he cocked his head and said.
"If I score a goal . . . I'll do this!" He held up his arms vertically, with three fingers erect on each hand. "That will mean it was for you, okay?"
The two girls held their hands over the mouths giggling. Squall just prayed they didn't take it any further than it was meant. He had heard stories that stars will suddenly become stalked because of casual fan appreciation. But, these girls were cute . . . heck, I wouldn't mind getting stalked by me. He fantasied.
"What seat?" Squall queried.
The two girls looked at each other with disbelief. "East block, in the front row!" One said.
"Fifth from the right!" The other boasted excitedly.
"Got it."
He turned around, knowing he was already late, to be stopped by two kids standing in front of him. Great . . . He told himself. I did start something unwanted.
"Can you sign this?" The small boy muttered.
Unbeknownst to Squall, this little boy had been standing in line for hours just for this moment. Just to get to see and stand before the new star of Blitzball. And he also understood and respected him not just because he was a good Blitzball Player, but because he had heard that story about Jecht. He had heard that Jecht was the best thing that happened to Zanarkand. And since the stories about Jecht ended terribly, meeting his son was just as good.
Squall bent down on his knees and took the Blitzball. "No problem." He signed the ball and handed it back to have another placed in his hands.
"Please!" Another young boy pleaded jumping up and down.
"Alrightly." Squall signed his scribble of a name while another child ran out and held up his Blitzball.
"Me too!"
"Take it easy." Squall tried to say pleasantly. But the truth was, he was getting tired of this. He needed to get to the game. He signed the ball.
"Well, gotta go! Cheer for me!" Squall announced before more came around the railing. The glimmer of the Blitzball Stadium was calling his heart. He looked up at it, the structure leaning over them like a great beast, and could almost feel the victory. See the millions of people within it standing and cheering for the Zanarkand Abes, the new champions of the Finals. He could almost smell the black powder falling from the skies after fireworks erupt the heavens in a flamboyant display while the whole city turned into a wild party. That was the fun of Blitzball. It was the ultimate reward that Squall loved.
"...two, three!" Were the words that drew Squall out of his daydream. He turned around to see the three boys. "Teach us how to blitz!" They cheered.
Oh, great. Now they wanted him to teach them how to play. Maybe this is why my father charged for lessons.
"Hey, I got a game to play!"
"Then teach us after," One boy pressured.
They didn't give up. "Maybe tonight . . . um . . . " He thought about the wild party he wouldn't miss floated in his mind. "...well . . . "
"You can't tonight . . . " Echoed a voice.
The smooth icy voice didn't come from a peer or even and elder for that matter, but another child standing isolated from the rest of the crowd.
The child was average height. Its face was hooded by a small blue cloak. He seemed calm, too calm for a child in this event, and emitted a translucent glow to him. Squall hesitantly turned back to the children.
"I mean . . . " He tried to say, but the words weren't there. His eyes shot back at the child. He was gone.
"I mean tomorrow." He finally said.
"Promise" The small boys eyes widened.
"Promise!" Squall said confidently.
Squall turned away and back to the spot where the hooded child once stood. Did he imagine him? Was the voice just part of his mind telling him that he didn't have time for such ridiculousness? Or maybe it was a Blitzball hater, a person who despises the game and will do anything to confuse the players so they'll loose. Squall didn't rule out any theory that ran through his mind. But, he needed to reroute his concentration, or else, if it was a Blitzball hater, he would succeed. This was the biggest event the world has ever seen. This was to the audience a Tournament to honor the great ex-star Jecht who has been missing for ten years to date, but to Squall, this was his one chance to prove to everyone he is not his father.
He's the new star of Blitzball.
But like a fly who keeps appearing in the house, the mystery of the hooded child surfaced. And then, a new theory emerged.
Maybe it was a precognitive sign. The only question therein lies:
Of what?
The soft ocean broke away from the hull that slid up to the dock smoothly. The engines quieted and strong-armed men reached down to help up the passenger. But apparently, he needed none. Instead, he stepped firmly up onto the stone dock without regard to either the pilot or assistants. This brought forth miffed expressions. Distracted by another incoming boat, the assistants turned away, letting the mysterious man go forth.
This man, unmoved by the people around him, followed the dock into Zanarkand. His half-concealed eyes glanced around at the crowds built around Movie Spheres seeking a glimpse of the Tournament. This man was here on a common purpose. But it wasn't in the terms of getting an autograph, or watching the game.
He was here to save the new star of Blitzball.
A quiet hum melody played in Squall's mind. It was the same hum he had sang before each game. The same hum his mother used to sing to him to sleep when his restlessness took hold of him. He used it now to hush his thoughts. This game was important to him. He needed to focus. He wasn't going to let some foolish thing like a disappearing child disrupt his long reign of victories. No, he was the captain of the team. The motivator. The goal seeker. The only one who was going to help win this game.
He figured that's where his father went wrong. Jecht had always believed that he was the team, that he was the game. Squall understood otherwise. Granted, Squall was more skilled then the others on the team, however, if he was a lone player, he wouldn't stand a chance against an entire opposing team.
Therefore, in order for him to assist the Zanarkand Abes to win victory over the Duggles this year, he needed to quiet his mind. That's why he sat relaxed upon a double ply titanium ring which seemed to float in a vacuum of space. A puddle of water ran along its base which Squall had his feet resting in. He pushed out all noise . . . all thoughts . . . all emotions . . .
Only silenced remained. And then:
Squall opened his eyes.
A bright flash of white erupted in front of him. Squall stood, held up his hands and looked below him. He was suspended a hundred of feet within the air, erect upon a ring which slowly orbited a glowing ball of magnetic energy. Any foreign person would suspect that something terrible was about to take place.
But on the contrary, Squall only smiled. He knew what was going on. It was just the first stages of the arena formation.
A bright yellow glow blared upon Squall's face as bolts of electricity ignited from within the walls of a magnetic sphere, charging toward a now bright orange core. All at once, the core bloomed into a mammoth blue ball which absorbed all of the radiant energy surrounding until finally, clustering into a stable sphere of water. Squall stared forward. A wall of water held by magnetism was only inches from his face.
He held out his hand and touched the sphere. His entire hand pushed through the force field like jelly and retracted. The crowds burst into a cheer. This was what they had been waiting for. This was the grand Jecht Memorial Tournament.
Abruptly, the stadium ceiling parted. Huge platinum steel girders detached from each other, igniting small sparks of electricity as the starry night scape rushed in. The millions fans now were on their feet, waving their hands, boasting in an almost rhythmic melody.
Squall was already within the sphere, and small holographic Holoposts shimmered in the waters wake. Squall treaded to this-dead in the center of the sphere. His blue eyes searched around to his other players taking their Holoposts, nodding to one another in acknowledgment. There was some gravity within the sphere (created artificially) allowing Squall to place his weight against the small, triangle shaped Positioners.
He looked below his feet and he could see tournament staff placing the Blitzball upon the Gravitation Sphere. Squalls' eyes jumped forward. Across the sphere, a blurred reflection of the opponent's team could be seen swimming to their Holoposts. The game was about to begin.
Above everyone, a score board, projecting a display of each team's score previewed an empty screen. Before Squall knew it, the Duggles Team had positioned themselves and their team captain cockily grinned only feet away.
"So, willing to go down in history like your father . . . " He muttered to Squall. "You're braver than I thought."
Squall didn't say anything. He only stared back. He's not going to shake my confidence. He assured himself. Squall just sighed and allowed the cheering of the fans outside the water-sphere calm his spirit. Let them be the fuel to my fire.
The Duggles captains took his stance. Squall waited for the bell. The team's hearts filled with anxiety. This was the present moment. This was the time of victory or defeat. Of honor and shame. Questions of all sorts ran through each and every players mind except one. There was no need to question. Squall had everything planned. He knew he was going to win.
And then, like a red flag intensifying the bull, the Blitzball shot up the center of the sphere and everyone hushed in silence, watching both Squall and the Duggles Captain sprint to the ball.
This is Blitzball.
A game of two halves. Each halves a mere five minutes. Setting within a gigantic sphere of water. The object of the game is simple enough: get the Blitzball into the opposing goal. There are a couple terms each Blitzball player learns if or when he makes a team. Most of the time, a player will be Dribbling. This is swimming around with the ball in the players possession. While the Blitzball is within the grasp of a player, it's just a matter of getting the ball to the opponent side and shooting.
Of course, like any Blitzball player, it's almost impossible to have one person dribble the ball across the sphere without being tackled on the way. That's where Passing comes into effect. It takes a certain amount of strength to pass a ball through the friction of water, and has to be quickly thought out. The same goes for shooting. Any Player can admit that it's difficult to send a ball hurtling toward a goal without the water slowing it down.
However, whether your Dribbling, Passing, or Shooting, the opposing teams are always in close proximity. And on every opportunity, they challenge. If this occurs, a Player has two options.
First, a player can attempt to maneuver around the enemy team player and carry on. However, in any attempt that would lead to a tackle front. If ones strong enough, they can survive it or else the player as openly given the ball to the opponent player.
Or secondly, a player can blitz through. If a player doesn't feel up to the challenge of fending off the enemy players, they can just pass/kick the Blitzball to another player to catch. But with any choice, they have to be quick. They have only ten minutes for a whole game. Not giving any player a lot of leeway for doubt.
This was the primary lesson of Squalls training. He knew of what his goal was. He knew he could retrieve the ball once it first blitzed up the center of the sphere.
He didn't give himself room for doubt.
With a boom, the crowd burst into a cheer. Squall captured the ball, swirled around and sent the Duggles captain tumbling head over feet. Dribbling swiftly, his blue eyes caught the Duggles players moving in for a challenge like angry hornets. Squall, quickly stopped, searched and found Nimrook half way across the sphere.
Oh great, Nimrook hesitated. Squall arced his arm back and swirled the ball toward his team member. Nimrook studied the ball with intensity. It swerved slightly to his left and with a tremendous leap, he caught it just in time to dribble further into the Duggles territory.
Squall kept his distance from the goal. He needed to keep Nimrook from getting tackled on the way. He knew of his strength and there wasn't much.
Taking a breath of the breathable water, Squall charged forward, following in Nimrooks wake. But to his horror, two Duggles team players were already beginning to challenge him. Two! Squall burst with frustrated. Squall waved at Linna for back up who stood as offense.
She swam up into Duggles territory.
Nimrook couldn't find anybody open . . . Squall was out of range . . . Vilucha was too far for his pass . . . and Linna hadn't got close enough–
BAM
Nimrook slowly came back to consciousness realizing he no longer had the ball. His eyes finally focused on a Duggles team member making a break for the Abes' territory. Squall switched gears, seeing the lone wolf player take his chances against the Zanarkand Abes defense that he had personally trained.
Svanda, who was the first to encounter the Duggles player, misjudged her treading and just as she challenged him, he unbelievably swirled passed her, leaving her dazed and confused. Surprised, Durren right behind her came in full throttle.
The Duggles player smiled. With a powerful elbow, he plowed through Durren, gripping the ball with incredible strength.
Squall rushed down from overhead.
The Duggles player approached the third Goal Defense named Shaama with a cocky grin strapped on his face. For the first time in her life, she actually felt afraid. This player had bulldozed through three Abes players. What possibly could she do to stop him.
And like a raging horse, the player charged forward.
Before the over dominating Duggles player blitz through Shaama, Squall fell down from above with outstanding force, causing the unfortunate player to loose grip of the ball and fly out of the water-sphere into the supporting audience.
Squall crossed his arms, watching through the reflective force field the fans burst in excitement. Squall treaded away and back into the game.
He stood at a high-rise girder. No, he had no fear of heights. Why would he? He couldn't even explain how he got here. The explanation to anyone . . . would be impossible. But he was running out of time. Instead of walking, attempting to push through the crowds, this man chose a better path. In his gut he knew that the first wave wouldn't kill him, but maybe if he could get to him before the raid, then he could get him to safety. He didn't know. All his focus was bent on waiting for the signal.
He had traveled many miles to get here . . . to Zanarkand, the city that never sleeps. He couldn't help but to marvel at its beauty every time his eyes wondered hazelly. But this time, he wasn't here for his inspirational lectures, nor sight seeing. He was here to for fill the promise to save Squall. He was the only hope. Only he had the power to end what troubles lied beyond. And yet, the man waited.
The ground girder built firmly into the skyscraper began to shutter. The man, tall, powerfully built with his draping red robes stood erect. He reached to his side, gave the approaching fate of doom a greeting toast before turning and walking away. There was no need to wait anymore.
Sin had come.
The score: O-O.
Despite the Duggles irrational attempt to make a score with a lone player, they had a strong defense. Squall came to his Holopost. They had two minutes left in the first halve. He needed to get that first point. If not, Squall knew it could leave him and his team in a venerable spot.
The Blitzball lifted into the center of the sphere and the Duggles Captain snatched it. Squall didn't have time to question. He swam hard in the captain's wake. He waved his arm to Hillcar who was already in hot pursuit.
The Duggles Captain watched his players move in for a pass, but Squall already seen his objective. Knowing he wouldn't make it in time, he signaled Keepa.
Keepa didn't have to second guess Squall. With incredibly speed he moved through the water. Duggles moved in for the defense, creating a perimeter around the captain. They were moving in for the big score.
One minute left in the first half.
Squall panicked.
He had set this moment to prove to everyone that he was not his father. But if he sat there and watched the Duggles make a score over the Abes, something that hasn't been done since Jecht played, he couldn't even imagine the repercussions.
Like a bolt of lightening, Squall rushed forward. Gritting his teeth, he blitzed through two Duggles defending. His rage and heart was on that ball, the Duggles Captain was another mere obstacle to acquiring it.
But Squalls bones began to ache, his tread slowed and his momentum siezed. He had run himself dry. Why . . . why . . . why?
Squall repeated in his head. It was too late now. The results of the first half depended on the Duggles first score.
The Duggles Captain couldn't help but to feel good about himself. He had outmaneuvered the Abes team . . . even their most prized Player: Squall Leonhart. He approached his final obstacle. He had to score the shot against the Abes finest goalie.
The captain halted, bringing the Blitzball up to commit a backward flip. But, his foot never met the ball. All he could see was the endlessness of the water-sphere spinning. When he gained composure, he could see the confident Keepa, the player who didn't give up on Squall's order, embraced the ball.
Squall couldn't believe it.
But it didn't last.
Keepa was tackled violently by three powerful Duggles in the middle of the sphere, sending the ball flying out of grip.
Squall burst into motion; the seconds ticking down.
His eyes glared at the ball which shot out the top of the sphere.
The crowds screamed, the announcer went silent as Squall slid out of the top of the water-sphere.
He arced his back, his feet straight. The ball was leveled with his face. His eyes focused on his objective.
Horror struck his heart.
Spreading the width of the entire city was a mammoth wall of water; taller than any building as far as Squall's eyes could see. And in the moment where gravity finally took hold of him, the wall of the tsunami shimmered.
From within, huge blasts of fire reigned upon the city.
All too quickly, Squall found himself bracing a girder from the stadium ceiling as eruptions of fire, metal, and flesh splattered. His eyes bulged as below him, the tsunami consumed all, sending fragments of debris shooting pass him.
The once great statues obliterated into dust. The heaven touching skyscrapers fell to the ocean. The hovering highways were grounded. The once sleepless city became silent. And all the while, Squall hung helplessly on the girder, his fingers slipping on its smooth double ply titanium coating.
And then, a brutal, violent rumble shuttered throughout the city; Squall loosing his grip and falling to a consuming doom below.
Slowly, like the draining of oil from a old motor, the sounds of muffled cries and screams of despair flooded Squalls ringing ears.
Sharp pain in his ribs, the taste the blood streaming from his lip, shivering from the icy cold ocean water soaking him. No, he wasn't in the water. He was on some kind of stone. He slowly opened his eyes to see himself laying on the once grand walkway that lead into the stadium. All around, survivors, some scared, others dragging dead love ones, ran for some sort of safety. Squall slowly stood up onto his knees, his sore eyes looking around. The city was on fire.
Zanarkand was dying.
What was he going to do? What was going to happen next?
Squall looked down at his legs, he could still move them. His arms and neck were still functional. How he survived the fall he didn't know. But he wasn't about to sit around and create theories. Instead, he stood up fully, rubbing the back of his aching neck. He stumbled down the broken steps, reaching out his hands to support himself on the head of a huge statue that once stood erect in front of the Stadium.
How did it come to this? Why now? Why ever? Squall had never ventured into the realm of the unknown before. And here, in this moment, he was. It just didn't make any sense. He was helpless. His eyes filled with grief and sorrow. To his right, a man was severed in half by a fallen piece of debris, his skin was now pale and full of death. To his left, children sat curled up beside stones consumed in fear, their deceased parents laying at their feet.
Squall had never been a religious person, but what did the people of Zanarkand do to deserve such despair.Then the question hit him like a rogue blitzball.
Where did the fire come from? Squall looked around. He remembered just before the tsunami hit, giant balls of fire plowed into the city. And it seemed it had come from within the tidal wave itself.
Was Zanarkand attacked?
Squall moved forward. He stumbled slightly and stood stunned. Just when things couldn't get any stranger. There he was. The man of mystery himself. He was clad in red robes, wearing a pair of thin sunglasses, his arm cradled (as if broken) under his left sleeve, and his hair was cut short save a small braid which curled below his right ear. This man is one Squall hadn't seen since that day when Jecht disappeared.
Till now, he had been a mere legend.
This is Aiden Deneth.
Where he comes from, his history and who exactly he is, remains a mystery to all. How and why are answered by his past: a mystery. All that is known is that the mercenary has no friends, no home, no family, and certainly no heart for being a savior.
But Aiden's mission was clear. To find and rescue Squall Leonhart.
"Aiden!" Unexpectantly burst from Squalls mouth."What are you doing here?"
Aiden stepped forward and stopped and very casually, he responded: "I was waiting for you."
What!
"What are you talking about!" Squall said out of breath, running his hands through his soaked hair.
Aiden stepped forward, mixing with the forming crowd of survivors. Squall looked around shook his head. Of all people to help him, Aiden was here. The man who supported his father, who his father was friends with. The man who disappeared the same day his old man did. And here he was, acting as if nothing had happened.
As if it had already happened...
Squall sprinted down the rubble of the highway, slowly sinking into the ocean. His head jolted left to right. Where is Aiden? He was gone. Vanished just like his dad. Maybe he imagined him.
Frustration built tensely. He didn't know what to do. He looked around again. People pushed past him frightened, confused, injured and in pain. They hoped faithfully that some miracle would wake them from this bad dream.
It stopped silent!
Squall looked around. His eyes bulged. Everyone had stopped, as if time had suddenly seized. He looked from shoulder to shoulder. How...what's...
"It begins," Echoed a voice.
Squall turned around. It was the small hooded child. He glowed more intensely this time, with small translucent balls of energy floating around him. He stood very still. Squall stepped forward to grab the child, but abruptly, he found himself on the freeway. A survivor had plowed through him. Time had regained. He stood, people were now running again, the smoke and fires blazed. He looked behind himself and yet again, the hooded child was gone.
What? What hell...
He could now see Aiden ahead. But, where was he going? It definitely wasn't the way to get out of the city.
Aiden stood motionless. Perhaps waiting for something.
Squall ran up to him, bending down and panting. "Hey, not this way. Its not..."
"Look!" Aiden demanded. His head was looking skyward. Something very large reflected in his tinted sunglasses.
Squall slowly rose his eyes into the sky.
It was like nothing Squall had ever seen. It was enormous, a hundred times larger than any whale. It had a long, bulky form to it. Scales of grayish tone. It possessed a huge great jaw, with small, seemingly harmless teeth. It possessed many eyes like those upon a spider. It had fins much like a dolphin and possessed two back legs with long sharp nails the size of a skyscraper.
Squall backed up, trying to assume the scale of the creature.
"We called it Sin." Aiden spoke smoothly.
Squall eyed Aiden. "Sin?"
He knew what it was called? The mystery always deepened around this man.
Sin, defying the nature of gravity, gave out a enormous growl, rumbling the very earth. His skin curled as if threatened and the scales began to flutter. Aiden stepped forward. He reached to his back and gripped the handle to a blade strapped within a holster. He slowly lifted it away, the cool night reflecting from its silver. It was long, thicker at its base and thinner at its tip.
As if a great stream of air burst under Sin's belly, the scales ripped from its skin and fell with haste. The shell pointed scales arced as they fell, bringing them to a maximum descend rate.
Like bullets, thousands punctured into the buildings, roadways and freeways. Squall looked at the army of scales covering the ruins of the city and then gazed at Aiden for answers.
Squall's inner conscious told him that this wasn't a good thing.
Each scale, the size of a man, shimmered with a blue energy. They all split in half and a head and body emerged. Each creature possessed two glowing red eyes as there body shifted from gray to blue. Squall looked at Aiden who just stood there.
Wasn't he going to do anything? Why was he just standing there? If he's not going to do anything, then I will!
Squall went into movement, jumping toward the unknown beasts with dripping mandibles with only his hands to defend himself. Taking advantage of this new prey, they overcame him, their jaws extending out with a terrifying sharpness, homing in for a scrumptious bite. Squall fell hard on his back.
Aiden stepped up next to him. He lifted another sword, very different from his own, and lowered it to Squall.
"Take it," Aiden sighed.
It had a very unique design, its front split inward with a purple haze to it. Squall gripped it while attempting to stand, misjudging the blades weight. The sword pulled him to the stone freeway.
"A gift from Jecht."
Squall could hardly believe his ears. "My old man?"
Ignoring Squall's skepticism or disbelief, he moved into attack position. "I hope you know how to use it."
Squall used all of his strength to just bring the sword to his waist level. What...Squall thought to himself, You charge for lessons too.
Aiden moved forward, blade in hand and quickly severed the creatures in half. Squall followed quickly behind, sloppily chopping from side to side, trying more to scare then to actually harm them. Aiden paid no attention, he kept his focus on the enemies at hand, swiftly shifting hands with his blade, slicing with accuracy and adrenaline.
"The ones behind us don't matter. We cut through!"
Squall kept behind Aiden as he did most of the work. Each Sinspawn, as they were called, fell to the ground after a wild furry of being decapitating or severed. Squall didn't know how to use a sword, he had never touched one in his life. And he never knew his father did either. There was something very strange going on. He knew that today was really about his father, but he could have never guessed so deep. His father, a sword wielder...yeah right.
The moans of despair from the unholy creatures echoed behind as Aiden and Squall pressed forward.
Where was he going?
Did he know where he was going?
The both of them followed the freeway as it sloped up. And right beside them was another tower which stood alone amongst the ruins of Zanarkand.
Squall called it irony as he stared at it while sprinting. It just happened to be the only building that was standing out of the devastation that still flickered his dads hologram. It showed a man, much older than Squall, who had long untended brown hair, a scar that ran down the side of his cheek and his unforgettable cocky smile.
"What are you laughing at old man..." Squall muttered out load, still pondering how his father was wrapped up in this.
"Aiden!" Squall stopped, taking a breath. "Lets get out of here!"
Aiden stopped. He stared forward. "No."
What...? He had no intention of leaving. Why the hell am I following him then!
"We're expected." Aiden started in a sprint again.
Squall, filled with so many questions and grief, shook his head and followed the mystery. However, unbeknownst to Squall, the both of them were heading straight for the creator of the utter devastation of Zanarkand:
Sin.
Out of nowhere, Sinspawn's fell from the sky and littered the entire freeway, stopping Squall and Aiden dead in their tracks. The trio was completely surrounded. Squall didn't know how Aiden was going to get them out of this one. Aiden, for the first time, hesitated.
Squall slashed forward at the shell-emerging creatures. But one just replaced it. And this time, their wings began to flicker. This was obviously not a good thing.
"Hmph. This could be bad." Those very words scared Squall to the bone.
The legend, the man with all the answers, the warrior who can't be beaten, a soldier of high regard, didn't know what to do. This was it. He had lead him to his death.
Aiden had a plan though. He looked to his right and hanging from the side of the freeway was their chance of safety.
It was a fuel tank.
His head jerked to Squall. "That! Knock it down!"
Squall looked at the fuel tank: it was an electromagnetic charger igniting a bolt of electricity between two batteries. It didn't look to Squall like a savior from this predicament.
"What?" Squall questioned as the creatures enclosed restlessly.
"Trust me. You'll see."
Squall gave him the benefit of the doubt and jumped forward, slicing between the two batteries, causing the tanker to spark and fall from the freeway.
BOOM!
The fuel tank exploded with a force of a small nuclear bomb. It sent a fireball rushing up underneath the freeway, destroying supports to the adjacent skyscraper. Aiden pushed Squall back falling face first onto the pavement as the building tipped and crashed tremendously into the freeway.
Aiden pulled Squall up to see the Sinspawn's obliterated and a one-chance-path to the other side of the freeway. Aiden looked at Squall.
"Go."
He must be crazy! But, this was no time to question. Aiden knew what he was doing. And in order to survive this, he needn't to be distrust of someone trying to help. This was his only chance.
Squall leaped off the freeway and stumbled onto the burning and falling building. He ran with all the speed he could conjure up, sweat beading from his forehead. Frequent burst of flame and debris erupted all around, sending fragments of metal, glass, and stone into the air. He didn't care that his legs were now bleeding and marred with fragment particles. This was a moment of life and death. He had seen his friends and his home become a field of destruction. He wasn't going to be part of it. And his only chance to survive was to reach that freeway now looming before him...
But something was happening. The freeway began to float toward the underbelly of Sin, as if in some remote possibility, the creature was preventing him from getting to safety.
Not without a fight!
Squall leaped just as a explosion underneath him sent him hurtling skyward. His outstretched hands tried desperately grabbed hold of one of the steel supports of the damaged freeway. He looked up. Debris fell on his face and he could see a whale-ish, thick blubbery skin that was Sin. And like an enormous mouth, a gaping threshold opened from the creatures stomach which transformed into an immense portal, blazing with morphing colors of red and yellow. It was as bright as the sun.
What was happening!
Everything around him, including the freeway he now dangled from was being sucked toward the vacuum of the black hole. Where was Aiden? He couldn't be alone...
Not now.
Squall's eyes filled with tears.
But Aiden was there. He stepped forward, standing on the freeway, and looked down at Squall gripped above a now endless chasm.
"Aiden! Help Aiden!"
Aiden turned his head toward the looming portal.
"Are you sure?" He spoke to it, as if its ear shattering noise that it emitted was some coded language.
Squall didn't care what the hell Aiden was doing. He just wanted up. "Aiden! Aiden!"
Aiden turned back to Squall. Aiden looked at him intensely, straight in the eyes, like a predator before an attack.
"This is it!" Aiden yelled, unbelievably reaching down and lifting Squall completely up with one arm.
Squall helplessly looked at Aiden confused.
"This is your story."
"What...what are you talking about? Aiden!" he tried to yell over the static.
He looked up. Sin was completely over them.
"It all begins here."
Horridly, Squall watched Aiden's body stretch wildly, disappearing into the fiery void. Squall, locked into the portals invisible hand, emerged into its blinding rays. His body shook, his muscles tightened, and a slow burning overcame his body. There was a blinding flash of white.
And then, darkness.