Father Figure

"Hey Auron. What're you doing here?" Tidus turned around from his seat on the couch, where he had apparently been watching recordings of old training sessions.

"I came to wish you luck tonight," I said from the doorway.

"You're not coming to the finals?" He looked mildly disappointed but not surprised as I shook my head; he understood that I wasn't fond of blitzball. I had attended his matches upon occasion when he was younger, but now that he was a professional with fans he didn't need me to cheer him on anymore. "I know you don't usually, but I guess I thought you might this time, since it's in honor of my old man and all. Oh well. Want to come in?"

I shook my head. "Just dropping by. I know you need to get ready."

"Yeah, pretty soon." He stretched, bouncing a little on his heels, then ran his fingers vigorously through his hair. Normally, when I looked at Tidus I saw Jecht -- the boy didn't particularly resemble his father, but they shared a similarity of manner and energy that was unmistakable. But more and more often these days, he reminded me of Kal, especially since the day he showed up with his hair bleached blond. I suddenly found myself wondering how Tidus would handle a bow, then realized with a start that, at seventeen, he was older now than Kal had been when we had taken our vows. I thought back to the lonely, bitter child I had met on my first day in Zanarkand, comparing him to the confidant young man I now saw before me, and could hardly believe it. Amazing what ten years could do.

"Ten years," I heard him mutter, eerily echoing my musings. "And they're just now having his memorial tournament?" He shook his head and then glanced up, catching me looking at him. "What? Not like I care or anything."

"Hm." I suppressed a smile. Tidus put on a show of being disdainful towards Jecht, but it was clear to me that he burned to impress his father, to prove himself, even if Jecht would never see his son's successes. "You really want to win, don't you."

He shrugged and scratched his head again. "Sure. I want to win every game."

"Of course." I turned to go.

"Auron?"

I paused, then looked back at him.

He wore a slightly sheepish expression. "Thanks for coming by. And for, well, everything. See you later?"

I nodded. "Have a good game." And I left him there, closing the door behind me.

I walked off the deck of Tidus's houseboat and onto the dock, and headed for the city streets, pushing past the handful of admirers who had already gathered. The bystanders ignored me as they always did -- I was very good at blending into the background when I wished to do so. Today's anniversary had put me into a rare nostalgic mood, so I thought over the time since my arrival in Zanarkand exactly ten years ago. He had been living here with his mother, Elen, when I had arrived to deliver the news of Jecht's death. Not that Jecht was dead, technically. Nor did I ever really claim that he was. But Elen had made that assumption, and I hadn't corrected her. Close enough to the truth, and much easier to understand. She had given up on life two months later.

It had hurt to watch Jecht's wife fade away. In her vacant eyes, I saw Relle, a world away, waiting futilely. There was no one to tell her of my fate. How was she, alone in the village? Who was there to help her? She was stronger than Elen, but still I worried for her. I could only hope that she had reconciled with Kera and found some reason to go on.

What to do with Tidus had also been a concern. Elen had no family. Jecht had two brothers, but he'd been estranged from them both and I had no means of contacting them. A seven-year-old could not live by himself. I had been staying on the houseboat at the time and considered moving in permanently, but before I needed to make a decision on that front, Jecht's old teammates stepped in. One of them had a sister who agreed to live with Tidus and take care of him for a modest stipend. I found rooms nearby and stayed a regular presence in his life, and between us, we had brought him to young adulthood.

By some miracle -- who would have guessed that the man was capable of being so practical? -- Jecht had invested his blitzball earnings well. The income had been more than enough to get Tidus through last year, when he himself had signed with the Zanarkand Abes. Now he was their star, much as Jecht had been. I couldn't tell whether he found the inevitable comparisons between them a source of more pride or annoyance.

I paused before a building as my reflection caught my eye. I purposefully did not keep a mirror in my quarters, not wanting to be reminded of my foolish assault on Yunalesca every day, but so much of Zanarkand's streetscape was covered in reflective glass that I couldn't escape my image entirely. Normally I did my best to ignore it, but today I couldn't resist taking a look at this tired, broken man who looked so much older than my 34 years. My hair was shot through with gray now, my face lined. The wound that had cost me my right eye also left a noticeable and ugly scar that ran from my hairline to my chin. For a brief time, I had worn an eye patch, but I decided that it called too much attention to the injury and switched to dark glasses instead. The high armored collar I had taken to wearing helped cover my scars as well. I still wore the red coat, but now I kept my left arm tucked inside most of the time, in the manner I had seen on Sir Wendal's portrait in the Hall of Guardians. No one here knew of Sin, or of summoners, or of Braska's sacrifice. So I honored him in my own quiet way. I had not told even Tidus the meaning behind my manner of dress.

I shook my head to clear this gathering of thoughts. Dwelling on the past was something I tried very hard not to do. Most of the time, I succeeded. I looked away from the mirrored glass and moved on.

The walk to my quarters was short. As I pushed open my door, I glanced over my dwelling. The rooms were sparsely furnished: a bed, a chair, a table, a small kitchen. I had never quite gotten used to depending on machina and so kept as few mechanical devices as I could get away with. My own sword rested on the wall over my bed; the blade that Jecht had given me for Tidus was stowed in a closet. I hadn't quite decided when to present it to him, but I thought it would likely be soon. I was starting to have the feeling that my duties to Jecht would be discharged at that point. Tidus was becoming a man -- living alone, supporting himself, standing on his own two feet. I had been an adult at seventeen, as had most of my peers. His home city was a softer place than Spira, but still, he had matured considerably. Very soon, he would not need me anymore. Not for the first time, I wondered what would happen to me once my promise was fulfilled. I had never seen a sending here, and no one ever talked about the Farplane. As far as I could tell, the only religion in this Zanarkand was blitzball. Would I have to find my way to Spira and a summoner? Or could I somehow send myself as Braska had?

I unlatched the sake cask from my belt -- no longer filled with water, the strong drink it contained helped me maintain my connection to the world, although I had learned that getting roaring drunk was a bad idea -- and poured myself a small glass. After setting down the jug, I lowered myself into a chair, took a sip of my drink, and tipped my head back, closing my left eye against memories and my own weariness. The sake settled agreeably in my stomach, fortifying me against the coldness that had been my constant companion since death.

"Auron!"

I sat up suddenly, setting my glass on the table with a loud thump, startled by the voice in my head, a voice I hadn't heard for a decade.

"I need you, man. Come find me. Bring the swords."

"Jecht?" I thought back. But there was no reply.

The thought of not obeying never even entered my mind. I walked over to the bed and retrieved my blade, pulling it slightly out of the scabbard and running a finger along the still-true edge. I strapped it to its rightful place on my back, then found Jecht's old weapon. That had maintained its sharpness as well, and I thanked whatever impulse had led me to keep it honed along with my own. I threw my small collection of potions into a bag along with Jecht's sword, reattached the cask to my belt, and went looking for Sin.

"Ugh." Sam tossed his rifle on the floor and looked at it in disgust. "You'd think all those years of playing blitz with my dad would have taught me better aim."

Maura laughed as she dropped gracefully down on her bed, her own rifle slung over her back. "Different kinds of aim, Sam. Didn't the Commander just finish telling us that?" Kenna and Liss entered the room behind her, the Al Bhed taking a perch on Liss's bed, the other folding herself up on the floor nearby.

Sam sat in Liss's desk chair and sprawled his long legs out in front of him, still scowling. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "You're a blitzer, and you shot like you've been doing it all you life."

She shrugged. "What can I say? Guess I'm just multitalented."

Liss stretched a leg out and kicked Maura's bed with a booted foot, shaking the entire frame. "Leave the poor boy alone, he's had a rough day." She favored her roommate with a stern look followed by a wry grin. "We can't all be born sharpshooters; I'm certainly not."

Kenna leaned forward and tugged on Liss's hair. "Hey, you did fine. You just need some practice."

With a single fluid twist of her head, Liss pulled the ponytail out of Kenna's hand and looked at her friend. "I know, but I'm not a natural. It's a skill I'll have to learn. That doesn't mean I'm hopeless." Her head turned again, this time toward Sam, who was sitting with his arms crossed and his eyes turned skyward. "I'm not a born mage either, but you are."

Sam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, then snapped up straight with a salute. "Hello Captain," he said.

Maura looked to the door to see Paine standing there, leaning against the frame with a smile. "Hello Sam, everyone, at ease," their instructor said, before the girls could stand to attention.

"Thanks for arranging that lesson, Captain," said Maura. "I got a lot out of it."

"Glad to hear it. Good work, all of you." Sam started to roll his eyes again, but Paine shook her head. "No, even you, Sam. Actually, I was looking for you; figured you might be here." Maura grinned inwardly -- so Paine had noticed, too. But then how could she not? It was so obvious. Liss and Sam had been stealing glances at one another for weeks. Her roommate still wouldn't admit to anything, but the body language did not lie.

Paine continued. "I think I may know why you had some trouble out there. Have you ever had your eyes checked?"

He shook his head. "No ma'am. Well, when I was a kid. But they were fine then."

"That doesn't surprise me," she said with a nod. "Vision problems sometimes don't crop up until adolescence. If you'd had poor eyesight since you were small, you'd have learned to compensate. But if this is a recent development, you won't have had the chance to adjust. Come by my office tomorrow, and we'll see what we can do."

Liss patted Sam's leg. "See. You're not hopeless."

Sam's mouth twisted a little. "I guess not. But will I really have to wear glasses?"

Paine's expression shifted subtly. "You wouldn't be the first soldier I've known to depend on spectacles," she said. "You also wouldn't be the first to complain about it. But there's no shame in needing a little assistance. We all use the tools we need to become better fighters." She smiled faintly, as if caught by a memory. Maura shot a look of curiosity to Liss, who raised an eyebrow and shook her head -- if there was a story there, she didn't know it.

"All right, ma'am," said Sam. "I'll get my eyes looked at tomorrow."

"Good." Paine's smile became more relaxed. "So what do you all think of the commander as an instructor?"

"He was excellent, ma'am," said Kenna. The other girls both nodded. "I've known Al Bhed who were better shooters but none who could explain technique nearly so well."

"That's high praise," Paine said. "I'll have to be sure to tell him. Do you mind if I quote you?"

Kenna grinned. "Not at all." She bounced slightly forward on the bed. "Hey Liss, Commander Kal knew Sir Auron, right? And he told you lots of stories?"

Once again Liss twisted around in Kenna's direction. "Right. Why?"

"Just wondering if Sir Auron was as good a marksman as a swordsman," the other girl answered with a shrug. "Did the commander say?"

"Commander Kal did talk about that," Liss replied. "He said my father wasn't particularly good with bow and arrow. And that it seems likely that he might not have ever have so much as picked up a gun."

"Really." Kenna leaned back.

Liss nodded. "Well, things were different then. I gather he wasn't much of a magic user either."

Maura found herself leaning forward -- it was rare for Liss to talk about Sir Auron, and she wanted to take advantage of the moment to ask something that had been on her mind. "Why is it that you never say his name?" she asked. "It's always 'he' or 'my father'. I've been noticing that for months, and it seems so weird."

Liss whipped her head around, looking at her roommate, apparently startled by the question. "Well, I-- it's just, I don't know what to call him." She hugged her knees to her chest, a lost note creeping into her voice with this admission. "Auron by itself seems disrespectful, but Sir Auron is weirdly formal. And to call him Father... it doesn't feel right. He gave me life, but he was never a father to me in any way that counted. It's not his fault, really, but that doesn't make it any less true."

Lifting her face to the ceiling, she let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. "Everyone always says that I should be so honored to have him for a father, that I should be so proud." She leveled her head, looking around at Paine and her friends, eyes growing wet. "Well, I don't want honor. And I don't want pride. I want a father. But that's the one thing that I can never have." The tears spilled over onto her cheeks, and she covered her mouth with a hand as she began to cry.

Maura started to move toward Liss, as did Paine, but Sam beat them both there. He slipped down the floor next to her and wrapped her in his arms. She leaned her head on his shoulder and continued to cry, heaving with wordless sobs. He whispered softly to her and stroked her ponytail.

Paine caught Maura's eye, then Kenna's, and gestured them out of the room. Maura nodded to her instructor, then took one last glance at the scene. Deciding that she was leaving her roommate in good hands, she quietly walked through the door.

The streets of Zanarkand were nearly deserted -- everyone was at the blitzball stadium, or headed there, or watching a sphere broadcast of the game at home or in a pub. The place was even more crazed for the sport than Spira had been.

There was no sign of Sin yet, but I was convinced that the monster, my friend, had to be somewhere nearby. I first thought of the beach, but then I decided to head for the center of town instead, to see what I could learn from the view atop a tall building I knew. I gained the roof and slowly looked over the cityscape.

Zanarkand, the city that never sleeps, lay before me, glittering into the distance. It was a riot of color, especially at night, signs and buildings glowing with machina lights. My new home was an odd place. It was isolated, no world outside the seas that surrounded it, and yet no one ever thought that was strange. A steep cliff face rose up where the path to Mount Gagazet ought to have been -- despite many hours spent exploring the area, I had never found a way to climb or go around it. The one time I asked Tidus about other cities, he'd looked at me as though I'd grown another head. There was some enchantment here, but I'd never been able to determine its nature.

I could see the stadium from this vantage point, of course. It was the heart of the city, in more ways than one. Its roof had opened, shooting beams of light into the sky, exactly as Jecht had described it the night we first met. A sudden burst of nostalgia for those simple days, when I knew that Yevon was holy and Braska's purpose true, hit me like a blow to the chest, and I almost sank to my knees with the rush of grief that followed. So much time had passed, yet sometimes the losses of my friend and my faith could still hurt like it was yesterday.

As always when these bleak moments came upon me, I allowed myself to feel my pain, to recognize the enormity of what I had lost. Then I took a deep breath and let it go, and I was able to function again. I returned my gaze to the stadium, where the sphere was filling, and the players were about to dive in and take their places. Then I glanced out to sea in the opposite direction, where a growing bulge of water caught my eye. Slowly, I walked out on a decorative ledge that jutted off the building's roof. I focused on the distant, huge shape, a familiar snout becoming clear as the creature began to break the water's surface. I raised my sake jug in a toast to my old friend.

"There you are," he said to me. "Find the boy, then get to me. It's time."

"Time for what?" I silently asked.

I heard Jecht's laugh echoing through my mind. "Time to die. I'm takin' you back to Spira. Both of you. Now go! I ain't gonna be able to keep control much longer."

I turned and immediately strode off my perch, onto the roof, and into the lift that would take me back to the street, to the blitz stadium, and, eventually it seemed, my home