Author: Imhotep Ardeth Bey
Rating: PG-13
Comments: The songs are not mine. At the end of every chapter is the true artist behind the lyrics in which I have used. Some lyrics I have used may be from alternative or punk-rock songs, but try to imagine they are being sang, because Riku and the Destiny Boys are POP singers.
Also, I have written three different versions of this chapter before deciding for the right one. If there's something you feel is wrong, please don't hesitate to inform me.
Also, Riku does not come in until later. Sorry. This chapter in particular is basically an introduction.
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts, FFVII, FFVIII, FFX, and FF X-2 do not belong to me in the slightest. On the contrary it is split into many different sections and belongs to quite a few people unequally. Talk to them if you want to sue me, but most likely you're one of them if you're planning on it. The only characters I've made up in this chapter are Sasha Fukisku, Sora's father (name undisclosed), Sensi Hunt, all of Sora's neighbors' names, and Mrs.Finny, all very small characters as of now. All but one of these will never grow any bigger than what they are in this chapter.
Once the setting changes to a different country, any dialogue spoken in Japanese will be underlined and anything otherwise will be in normal font.
♪ Hey, wanna party?
Ooh la la! Mmm-hmm!
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Un, deux, trois, quatre
Follow me and you will know!
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Un, deux, trois, quatre
Follow me and you will know!
Un, deux, trois, quatre
Wicked
We are wicked
Wicked
We are wicked
Follow me and you will know!
Wicked
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non... ♪
Sasha Fukisku sighed, shaking her head as the last chords of the single rang through the small, yet cozy residence. The voice singing was clear and confident, and she might have even liked the song, had her own son not been repeating it since he had purchased the album.
"Sora!" The exasperated mother wailed, loud enough to be sure the teen upstairs could hear, "Don't you think it's time for a DIFFERENT song? The album has over twenty other tracks!"
♪Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me and you will know... ♪
The woman sighed, resorting to drastic measures. Scuttling her plump, homely shaped figure to the large, full length cupboard residing in the corner of the kitchen, she opened it with a fevered franticness and grabbied the first object she could reach, a large, thick broom. Trekking herself back to the middle of the kitchen, she held the broom over her head, striking the ceiling as best as a short woman could, as violently and effectively as possible.
"SO-R-A!" She hollered, accompanying each thump of her broom with a syllable, "TURN- THAT- OFF- NOW!"
♪ Follow me and you will know
Un, deux, trois, quatre
Follow me and you will know... ♪
Sasha felt her eye twitching, unable to stand the song on its repeated rotation one more time. She had to admit, she loved the artist, more than she would care to admit, and the song was indeed a toe-tapper, but enough was enough.
"SORA!" She felt her voice reach a screeching pitch, "IF YOU DON'T SHUT THAT OFF RIGHT NOW, THERE WILL BE NO PINAPPLE CAKE FOR YOU FOR A WEEK!"
♪ Follow me and you will know
Am I sexy?
Oui ou Non
Follow me – ♪
The music stopped abruptly mid-line, and there was a pause – one of blissful silence, so quiet that Sasha could swear there was a ringing in the air. The silence was torn apart the second a different beat started up, shaking the windows with the base and causing Mrs. Fukisku to hold her head in annoyance. The song was good, she would admit, however, being the same voice belting out different lyrics then before.
♪ What's the riddle of it all
What's the riddle on her mind?
It's impossible to find... ♪
Sora's mother sighed, knowing that a different song was the best she was going to be able to bargain. Not even for dessert would Sora shut off his favorite singer's album from its never-ending course through the house. Of course, the said artist had three other equally extraordinary albums, but they had been tossed aside for the latest, just released two days before.
She tapped her foot to the new song, liking this one much better than the previous, and switched on the timer of the oven to just the right time for her roast to be perfectly cooked. Grinning at her good work, she wandered into the den, finding the television on and a rather high-class talk-show taking place on the screen. She looked closely at the figures on the television, and noted the features of the star sitting in the opposite chair as the interviewer.
"Sora!" She called, knowing the boy could hear her over his ridiculously loud stereo, "Your idol is on television again."
In what seemed like seconds, the music was stopped and a colorful, brunette blur flew past her into the den, his bright yellow sneakers leaving large indents on the plush, moldable rug. Sasha blinked, and once her eyes were open again, Sora's lean body was in a relaxed position on the floor, munching on a small bowl of round, juicy purple grapes and attempting to get as close to the television as humanly possible without going blind.
"- It's just good to know that I'm being a positive influence to all the aspiring singers out in the world." The pop star's voice could be heard for miles once Sora turned up the volume to its maximum, not wanting to miss a second of the phrases being stated. Unblinking, Sora reached for a grape, popping the small fruit into his mouth almost mechanically, his eyes never leaving the glowing figure on the television.
"I'm just a normal kid, just like anybody else out there. I just happened to get lucky and become graced with a wonderful gift, and a fantastic chance of a lifetime."
Sora practically drooled as the tenor voice floated over his ears, filling his mind with sensations of joy and feelings of admiration and fondness.
"I sometimes wish I could share this wonderful completion I feel with the whole world. "Sora recited loyally along with his idol, and his mother could almost see a clear crystal of drool on the side of her son's pouty mouth as he spoke, "I feel that if everybody in the world were as happy as I am, then there would be no wars. There would be no arguments and no suicide. Everybody would be happy, because music is the true medicine, the medicine of the soul."
Sasha raised an eyebrow at her sons' actions.
"Gee, have you seen this one before, Sora?" She wondered sarcastically, the biting comment softened by a teasing, warm tone in her voice. Sora said nothing and continued to watch the figure on the television, and the woman wouldn't have been surprised if the boy keeled over from sheer happiness. Sasha watched for a bit longer, though she was not interested in the interview on the television, more interested in watching her son's antics towards the television itself.
There was a soft 'ding' from the kitchen, and Sasha gaily flounced to the said room, reveling in the fact that her 15-minute roast had taken exactly twenty minutes. To her amusement, she found herself humming the song that, just twenty minutes earlier, she had been begging to be shut off. She even sang a few lines to herself, getting all the words wrong in that typical 'this-is-a-thing-that-only-mothers-can-do' type of way, dancing in her own strange fashion as she got the salad and the dressing from the fridge. Satisfied, she once again made her way to the den, though this time with a different ambition.
"So-ra!" She sang in an expertly off-tune yodel, "Time for din-ner!"
Sora remained glued to the television, his eyes shining from the almost radioactive glow of the projective screen. The talk show was still going on, and it seemed that a certain brunette wasn't about to un-attach himself without a fight.
'If it's a fight he wants,' Sasha concluded, 'It's a fight he's going to get!'
With the determined air of an ignored mother, Mrs. Fukisku stomped to the television, her short index finger punching the POWER button with more force than need necessary. Once the television went black, Sora's eyes detached themselves from its surface, wide and confused, yet slightly angry all at once. His mouth was wide open, slack from the lack of brain activity it took to watch television, and a tiny line of drool connected his lower lip and the middle of his chin.
Sasha smiled warmly to her son, though mentally she was drawing him fangs and sharp claws, considering the way his eyes were trained on her.
"Now now, Sora!" She scolded, reaching over cautiously to pat her son on the head, "What would your father say if he saw you here, reduced to a dribbling, drooling mess over a simple pretty pop-star?"
That brought Sora out of his revere like a large slap in the face. He blinked stupidly at his mother for a moment, before returning to normal and wiping the trail of drool off his chin, blushing in embarrassment.
"Sorry, mom..." He mumbled, getting himself up off the floor and picking up his half-eaten bowl of grapes, "You know about my huge crush... guess I got a little out of hand..."
Sasha smiled as she watched her son chuckle nervously as he trekked from the room, the shamed blush that had been on his cheeks never ceasing in its burning red color. Of course Mrs. Fukisku knew of Sora's crush. Practically the whole neighborhood knew of Sora's crush on the famous singer, the way the albums were blasted dawn through dusk. Grinning to herself at the adorability of her kin, she reached over to the small, cheap radio, switching it on in the midst of bringing the roast to the table.
"-Wanted to be a famous singer? Don't put your dreams on hold, send YOUR demo tape to V.A.L. Industries within the next two weeks, and you could be a star! R.O.K is looking for middle to high-teenage boys to become the next big thing! Are you up to the challenge? If you are, send your tape to –"
There was the shattering of porcelain as the bowl of grapes Sora had been holding fell carelessly to the floor, grape juice spritzing in an unsual fashion on the tiles, and the small, sharp pieces flying in every direction . Sasha looked up from her work setting the table, startled by her son's actions, but more importantly, his reasons. Gasping, she hurried as best a portly woman could towards her son, breezily grabbing a dustpan and a miniature broom from a random cupboard that she guessed Sora had never noticed before.
"Don't move, honey, I don't want you to hurt yourself!" She warned, the excitement of the situation having died down. She settled herself on her knees, carefully sweeping up the sharp broken shards, making sure not to miss any. She could feel Sora's eyes upon her, and she stalled in her actions, glancing up at her son in curiosity. "What happened?"
Sora shook his head, bending down to help her pick up the larger pieces of porcelain that had shattered onto the floor He daintily plucked a few grapes from the ground, popping them into his mouth as he dumped the remains of his bowl into the trash.
"Sora!" Sasha interjected, her voice nearly panicked and slightly high pitched, "Don't eat those! They were on the floor! Who knows what diseases you could get – think of the germs!"
Sora chuckled and looked back at his mother, whom was still cleaning off the tiles diligently.
"Mom – are you saying that you didn't clean them properly? I assumed that your floors were sparkling enough to eat off of." He gave his mother a patented 'Sora' grin, one in which his mouth nearly took up the whole length of his face, and she gave him an exasperated smile in return.
"What am I going to do with you, Sora?" She pondered out loud, just as she began to start on the grapes. An uncertain voice broke through her clear thoughts of cleaning products and broken bowls like being poked with a toothpick – she almost missed it.
"Hey mom... what do you think?"
Mrs. Fukisku's eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes found their way to her son's face, which was distressed looking and dreamy. She stood up, grapes forgotten, and approached her son, concern flooding her every fiber. She stood in front of her son, for once not bothering to notice the height difference that had grown over the years as she stared up into his sparkling blue eyes.
"What do I think about what, honey?" She inquired, her voice soft and comforting. She felt her heart falling to pieces at the hopeless look in his eyes, and it was apparent that this was something that had been bothering him for some time.
Sora looked uncomfortably frustrated, which soon melted into a look of simple defeat. Sasha's blue eyes, though not as blue as Sora's, searched her son's face for emotions, finding the exact emotions that she would have hoped to shelter her son from.
"You know... you can talk to me, honey. "She began, using her hand to lift Sora's head from its bowed position, "I won't tell anybody your secrets. Your old, tacky mother was never one to gossip or snitch."
Sora gave a soft smile and his eyes darted in a surveying manner towards the radio.
"Do you think it's that easy... you know, to achieve your dreams? The man on the radio made it sound so easy..."
Sora once again bowed his head, as though he were embarrassed about what he was saying. Sasha shook her head, taking her son's hand in hers. There was a noticeable size difference between the two, as well as completely different builds, differences only a mother would notice or even care about. However, Sora followed her as she pulled him by the hand, sitting at her gestured command to do so. With a soft smile, she herself also sat down, making sure to catch her son's eyes with her own before she spoke.
"Honey, every person has about a million dreams of things they want to do in the future. However, there is always one dream, one ambition that shines above the rest. It's the one goal that no matter what happens, or what crumbles, you will never let go of." She waited for an interruption, and when none came, she nodded her head lightly and continued, "There will always be dreams that seem horribly unattainable. But you have to believe in yourself enough to know that no dream comes true by simply thinking about it. Doing, and thinking are two different things."
Sora nodded, his eyes turning downcast as he thought about what his mother had just said.
"But, mom... why does it have to be so difficult?" This was asked in the same soft voice as before, however it sounded possibly a little less defeated than before she had begun to talk.
"Oh, Sora, Sora, Sora...If dreams were so easy to obtain, everybody would be living theirs, now wouldn't they!" Sasha lightly scolded her son, an encouraging smile on her face. "Just remember that if you can dream it, you can do it, and that's a fact." (Disclaimer: Quote by Walt Disney)
Sora's face lifted up into a rather sad-looking smile, and his eyes were smiling lightly as they surveyed his mother.
"Wouldn't it be cool – to be able to do something you love for a living?" Sora pondered, his eyes moving away from Sasha's in a rather ashamed manner. Sasha smiled encouragingly, tilting her son's head back to look at her with her own hand. She stared up into her son's eyes, despite the fact he was slouching, she still had to stare up, and cocked an eyebrow, a devious smile now adorning her face.
"... Like sing, honey?" She questioned, knowing that she had completely hit the nail on the head. Sora's eyes widened and he took in a large, deep breath, sputtering unintelligently as he let the breath out. Sasha chuckled, shaking her head at her son's antics.
"Mom!" Sora finally managed out, slightly incredulous and slightly concerned, "Why didn't you tell me you knew! Were you spying on me? How did you know? ... Mom!
Stop laughing, it's not funny!"
True enough, Sasha was laughing, and quite hard at that. Her body was doubled over in the chair in which she sat, her arms holding her stomach as though it hurt immensely from laughing much too hard. There were tears prickling on the sides of her eyes, and she had no trouble letting them fall. She had never had a problem letting happy tears fall.
Meanwhile, Sora was staring at her, a challenging look in his eyes and a slight glare in his gaze. Sasha willed herself to calm down, lowering herself down to a small chuckling every once and a while. She wiped her eyes on her large, pink apron and grinned at her son, who didn't seem to quite share in her amusement.
"Oh Sora!" She cried, finding herself fighting off another laughing fit, "I don't mean to embarrass you, but you sing so loud and so much that practically all of the neighbors know you want to be a singer as well!"
Sora felt his face burning in a very large, and very intense, blush. The neighbors? He was so embarrassed, no matter what his mother said, there could be nothing more embarrassing then this!
"Oh, honey, you needn't worry!" Sasha comforted, seeing that her comment had rendered Sora in a bit of a tizzy, "The neighbors call all the time. They love your singing! They call asking if you could sing more often! It puts Mr. and Mrs. Jukanji's quintuplets to sleep, and helps Mrs. Finny get to sleep at night without Mr. Finny, god rest his soul. Mr. Frukken, you know, grumpy old Mr. Frukken that talks to nobody but his dog? Called the week you went to sleepover camp. He said his dog was restless without your singing, and was willing to pay you to sing again! Of course, once I told him you were at summer camp he immediately hung up and retracted the offer..."
Sora's eyes were so wide, he feared they were going to pop out of his head at this very moment. He couldn't find the strength to pick his jaw up from being on the floor, or stop his heart from fluttering dangerously in his chest. Sasha grinned, giving her son an optimistic look.
"Those people... said all those things, Mom?" He asked, his voice shaking dangerously, "You're not just lying to make me feel better?"
Sora's mother cocked an eyebrow once more and shook her head, not believing that her son could be so self-conscious about his talent. He was her son! Where was the confident pride she was always pushing into him? Sasha's eyes narrowed, and she felt as though a light bulb had gone off in her head with the same 'ding' that the oven made when her roast was done cooking. She grinned, and stood up, now a slight bit taller than her sitting son.
"Close your eyes, Sora." She ordered, and Sora, seeing the maniacal glint in her eyes, obeyed rather quickly. Sasha managed to keep her mischievous giggling in check as she ran to the hutch drawer, rummaging around for a bit before finally coming up with what she wanted – a miniature tape recorder, from way back when Sora thought being a reporter would be a fantastic career idea. She checked inside, only to have her heart fall when she found no tape.
'Think, Sasha, think. This is your little boy's dream that you're tangling with!' Her subconscious screamed, and she looked around, making sure Sora wasn't peeking in the process. Her eyes roamed around to all the objects in the kitchen – the oven, the microwave, the blender, the answering machine, the refrigerator, the cabinet... wait just a minute, the answering machine!
Scuttling herself as quickly as she could to the answering machine, her old blue cross-trainers making small footsteps on the tiled floor, she glanced back at Sora to make sure he wasn't looking. Hastily, she opened the place where the answering machine tape would be, grinning delightfully when she saw the miniature tape snuggled in it, a perfect fit for her miniature tape recorder. She noted both were miniature, and they had to fit perfectly simply due to that fact.
Shoving the tape into the recorder rather ungracefully, she shut the tape chamber door, for lack of anything better to call it, she never was a technological person, and hurried back over to her chair. She made sure Sora wasn't peaking once more, just for kicks, and angled the tape recorder on the table, just right to catch Sora's voice perfectly.
'He can't see it, Sasha! Then he won't sing!' She told herself, not wanting to ruin her plans before they even began. Grinning, she snatched up the large, yellow napkin holder, placing it down gently in front of the tape recorder, so as not to make any suspicious sounds.
"Okay Sora, open your eyes." She commanded, and Sora opened his eyes, revealing crystal blue orbs to his mother. He smiled warmly to his mother, who was positively glowing, and gave her a curious look.
"What did you do, mom?" He asked, more than a little concerned about whatever his mother had done. Sasha shook her head, making small 'tsk'ing noises with her tongue while doing so. Sora gave her a strange look, which she countered with a determined air.
"Don't worry about that, honey. Now, our dinner's getting cold." She grinned deviously at her son, reminding him strongly of the Cheshire cat, all teeth and a mysterious ulterior motive. (Disclaimer: Property of Alice in Wonderland). Sora reached for his silverware, which he assumed his mother had set up before they had begun talking, but was stopped by his mother's hand upon his own.
"Sora – honey – before we eat... will you sing me a song?" She smiled, her eyes glittering dangerously in the light of the kitchen, "Just a small, little one? You can even sing one by your favorite artist, if you want."
Sora hesitated, looking down at his plate in an embarrassed frenzy. His mom wanted him to sing for her? She had already heard him sing, hadn't she? He looked up, ready to confront her about her motives to ask such a thing, and was faced with the largest, most overdone Basset-Hound eyes he had ever come into contact with, courtesy of his own mother. He felt his heart, as well as his opposition, melt, and he sighed in defeat.
"W-what do you want me to sing?" He questioned, glancing towards his mother in obvious defeat. Sasha didn't answer, simply smiling and staring in an encouraging manner his way. Sora sighed once more and took a deep breath, deciding that he would take his mother up on her challenge. He searched his mind for a good song, and debated weather he truly wanted to do this. Finally, he took another deep breath, and let his voice break through the tense silence that had developed since his mother had asked her favor.
"And when you walk into the room I feel the world dissolve, I fall at your feet...
------
"...And when you look at me I swear the beating of my heart is about to cease...""
"Sir Tidus... Sir Tidus, your cell phone is ringing, sir." Rajjin Gukni, bodyguard to Tidus Sujakni stated obviously, pointing to the small, silver mobile laying carelessly between the two seats. Tidus, the rather attractive blonde boy driving, stopped singing and narrowed his eyes, grabbing the cell phone and flipping it open in one fluid motion, his expression bored.
"Tidus." He greeted whoever was on the other end of the line, his tone just as bored as his facial features. His tone perked up, however, as well as his expression the second he heard whose voice was speaking to him from the telephone. "Oh...hello father."
His father's voice was stern and gruff, as it always was when talking to his only son.
"Tidus. Where have you been? I've been calling for nearly a half-hour trying to get a-hold of you. That is very unorganized and disrespectful; losing track of your cellular phone when somebody important such as myself may be trying to reach you."
Tidus rolled his eyes and continued driving, though he had a bit of difficulty doing it only with one hand. He cast Rajjin a rather panicked glance, and gestured with the phone that he could not do both of the activities at once. Rajjin nodded and took the cellular phone, much to Tidus' relief. He quickly graced his attention back to driving, knowing just how badly he had been swerving the road during those first few seconds of his father's phone call.
"Hello Sir Jecht. Tidus is practicing his driving at the moment, and needs to keep both hands on the wheel at all times, ya know. Myself being the of-age driver in the vehicle, Tidus took the responsibility upon himself to give the phone to me before he lost control of the car, ya know, and suffer the loss of his learners permit." There was silence in the car as Rajjin listened to whatever his father was rambling about, before he began to speak again.
"Sir Jecht, I assure you that Sir Tidus would not go out of his way to miss the luncheon that you had arranged for him with the Blitzball coach ..." Rajjin passed Tidus a threatening look, before tossing a glance at the sub-wrappers in the backseat from their hurried lunch meal, "He simply got caught up in studying at the library... Yeah, he wanted to brush up on his knowledge of elementary particles, ya know..." Rajjin shifted the skateboard in his lap uncomfortably, smirking at the response Jecht had given him. "...No sir, that is not a Blitzball tactic. That is a method of Science, ya know ...Yes sir. I'll be sure to limit his scientific discoveries until after Blitzball. I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again...yeah, good day to ya, too, sir."
Rajjin flipped the phone closed, sending Tidus, who was gripping the steering wheel rather hard now that the conversation was over, a hard look.
"Sir Tidus, why did you not tell me that your father had arranged a meeting between you and the Blitzball coach? If I recall correctly, you told me your day was free so you could go skateboarding!"
Tidus shifted uncomfortably, unused to being scolded by his bodyguard in any way, shape, or form. He sent his bodyguard and friend the best 'I'm sorry' look he could without crashing his car, hoping that the man understood.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Rajjin... with all honesty, I was never planning on telling you. I intentionally skipped the Blitzball luncheon." He sighed and continued driving, but it was apparent he was rather distracted, and soared right through a rather obvious red light.
"Sir Tidus, you just ran a red light, ya know. Pay attention, or I'll not hesitate to take the wheel from ya. You don't want to lose your learners' permit now, do ya?" Rajjin scolded his charge, and watched Tidus relax visibly, not wanting his permit to be taken away from him, "Now, why did you skip the luncheon?"
Tidus sighed, his lower lip jutting out slightly as he thought about how to explain his current predicament to his only friend and protector.
"...I don't want to be like my father ..." He began, his eyes far away. There was the sound of a throat clearing beside him, and he began to pay attention once more. He stayed silent for a few moments, before continuing once more, his voice determined. "I don't want to be a blitzball player, Rajjin! Not in the slightest!"
This caused Rajjin to look up rather abruptly, his eyes wide and confused as they surveyed the boy driving.
"What do you mean you don't want to be a blitzball player? You've been training since you were three years old to follow in your father's footsteps, and be the best blitzball player there ever was, ya know!" He recited this mechanically, as he had been hearing it from Jecht most of Tidus' young life, and knew the speech by heart. He quickly cut off his preaching, however, when he felt the car swerve slightly into a different lane, before once again rushing back into the previous one. Rajjin blinked a few times, before deciding to ignore the action. "Well, if you don't want to be a blitzball player, ya know... then what do you want to be?"
Tidus' face turned up into a smile, and he grinned, just thinking about his dream causing happiness to flutter around within his stomach. He kept his eyes on the road, but lowered his voice, as though the words he was about to speak were dangerous and forbidden, which, in his father's circumstances, they rightly were.
"I...want to sing." He stated, taking his eyes off the road to search his bodygaurd's expression, but finding it to be blank from all emotion, as though he were thinking. He opened his mouth, ready to ask his friend what he thought about the words he had just spoken, but the words never got past the tip of his tongue. He was interrupted by a loud beeping, possibly from a car. Startled, Tidus peered out the front windshield of his car, eyes widening and a scream ripping from his throat as his car connected with another oncoming car.
He vaguely heard the sound of three numbers being dialed, and Rajjin's voice murmering something close to him, before his mind, and his world, was thrown into darkness.
------
Mrs. Fukisku sat impatiently in her uncomfortable wooden chair, a piece of paper and a pen laid neatly out on the kitchen table in front of her. Her leg bounced up and down with clear energy build up, and the cheap radio sat on the table next to her writing utensil and paper. The volume was down very low, and the moonlight shined clearly in through the open window. A soft breeze swept softly through the screened opening, attempting to take the long piece of paper along with it, but Sasha wasn't giving up that easily. Hastily, she grabbed the paper before it flew away, setting It back down onto the table with determination and fury.
She had been sitting for nearly four hours with this radio on, the exact same songs blaring over and over and the announcer sprouting many different words and jokes and advertisements. However, not one was the advertisement she was looking for.
'Why, when you are looking for something, is it never as readily available as when you don't need it?' She felt like screaming, but kept it to herself, lest she blow her cover and ruin the surprise. She didn't want to get Sora's hopes up, but she was so sure of his talent... she felt herself drifting off for the umpteenth time, imagining her son – her Sora -, living his dreams as a singer. She beamed with pride at the simple thought.
'That's IT!' Sasha thought in fury, her eyes eyeing the radio angerly, 'This station is the ultimate of waste! It must have been a different station!'
She lifted her hand and turned the dial once more, listening to all the songs and advertisements and trying to distinguish the right station.
"I will always love – Baby one more time – Only $15.99 – Once again, back from Tokyo - V.A.L. Industries! – Jun Akiyama pregnant?-"
Sasha stopped. Wait a tic, V.A.L. Industries! Wasn't that the company sponsoring the contest? Yes, yes it was! Oh no, which station was it!
"It's true, there's a bun in the oven –" She growled and switched the channel back, crossing her fingers that the commercial wasn't over, "999 Valentine Avenue, Hollywood, Calfornia, United States of America! Send to V.A.L. Industries Talent Search. We'll be here for YOU."
Sasha nearly squealed in delight as she scribbled down the address. Oh, she couldn't wait to send it in!
------
Tidus' black oblivion faded almost immediately after it came upon him, or so he thought. He squirmed a bit, trying to figure out where he was, only to be overcome with a sharp pain in his shoulder and arm. He struggled to open his eyes, finding that although he was wide awake, his eyelids were heavy and felt glued together somehow. He carefully lifted his good arm up to his face, rubbing his eyes roughly to unstick them from one another. He vaguely felt another presence in the room, and he slowly opened his eyes, coming face to face with a pair of midnight black sunglasses and a knowing smirk.
"We're going to hafta' practice your attention skills, ya know." The person stated firmly, moving his face away from Tidus' and looking away, "How many times did I tell ya to keep your eyes and attention on the road? I wasn't lying when I said you'd crash, ya know."
Tidus closed his eyes once more, now knowing exactly what had happened. He had been distracted trying to see Rajjin's reaction to his statement, and had swerved onto the wrong side of the road. He felt like kicking himself for being so stupid, but doubted he could get up with his arm in its current condition. He spared an apologetic look towards his bodyguard, who simply stared back sternly, in a manner that clearly stated he knew something that Tidus did not.
He let his eyes wander, blue orbs taking in the white sanitation and impersonality of the hospital room he was residing. He vaguely wondered how long he had been here but didn't bother to ask, as he didn't want to seem overeager or impatient.
"Tidus, you've been in the hospital for approximately one half of a day, and one night, ya know. It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and your hair is a mess. C'mere." Tidus rolled his eyes as Raijin pulled a comb from seemingly nowhere and began tidying up his hair professionally. It was obvious that Raijin knew him better than anyone else: after all, he had been Tidus' bodyguard since he was old enough to need one, and the two spent most, if not all of their time together.
"Raijin, get off!" Tidus whined childishly as his long-time bodyguard began wiping his face off with a wet cloth. Despite his complaints, however, the older man did not cease his work with the cloth until after his mission was accomplished, and left Tidus grumbling stubbornly.
"Sir?" A soft voice from the doorway asked, and Tidus' blue eyes took in the form of a young nurse, casting the two of them nervous looks as her cheeks turned slightly pink. "There's a visitor outside. He says his name is Sunazaki."
"Send him in!" Raijin ordered officially, obviously feeling the need to switch to authoritive status in the presence of the upcoming visitor. Tidus squirmed uncomfortably.
"A visitor, Raijin? I'm not in the mood to talk to any blitzball coaches right now..." The blonde boy started pathetically, but stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the man that stood in the place of the blushing nurse.
Tall, muscular, and rugged were the first words that came to Tidus' mind to describe the strange and mysterious visitor who was now striding confidently to Raijin's side. His red trench coat seemed to billow behind him, even with his lack of movement, and his tall, expensive looking boots clicked on the floor, disturbing the shocked silence that had overwhelmed the room. The man's hair was short, and dark, as were his eyes: or, one of them, so far as Tidus could see. The other was closed slightly, as though it had received a recent hard punch, and was encircled in a blackish-blue bruise; resting on the bridge of his nose were small, pointless sunglasses.
"So: you must be Tidus." The man's voice was scratchy and sounded hoarse, however somehow Tidus came to the conclusion that it always must have been this way, due to the strength and confidence encased among every syllable that he spoke. Mutely, the injured blonde nodded.
"Thank you, Sunazaki-san, for coming on such short notice, ya know. It must have been a trip: are you thirsty? Why don't I grab you a drink?" Raijin spurted into the awkward silence, his voice puncturing it and leaving Tidus to relax slightly. Without a word, the strange visitor nodded to Raijin, and then gestured with his eyes to the door: it was obviously that the time that he spent in the hospital room would be spent alone with the person that he had come to see, and he wanted no interruptions.
"Tidus." Mr. Sunazaki repeated the name once again as Raijin hastily exited the room, wondering vaguely to himself which type of drink the man preferred, due to the fact that he had received no hints. He knew that no matter what drink he made, he would never get the chance to give it to the man, so without a second thought he marched down to the cafeteria to get himself a coffee. Without a word, Tidus simply gawked at the man.
"You're quite silent for a boy who wants to have a career in doing nothing but showing off his voice." The gruff voice pointed out, sounding slightly annoyed. His eyes widening slightly, Tidus cast the man a look of pure surprise.
"How...did you know that I wanted to be a singer?" The sixteen year old asked in a cautious tone, apparently wary of the newcomer's reaction towards his ambition. The older man, however, simply shook his head and smiled slightly. Stubble, Tidus noticed as his companion's lips twitched into a smile, seemed to grace the man's upper lip and chin areas around his lips. How was it possible that this man could make stubble look cool?
"Your bodyguard called me, and paid me a ridiculous amount of yen just to come here and listen to you sing." The man stated plainly as he sat himself comfortably down into the chair that Raijin had previously been using. "I work for V.A.L. Industries in Hollywood, California: you know where that is, don't you?"
Once again mute, Tidus simply nodded dumbly and waited for the other man to continue. This time, however, his companion didn't seem to mind.
"It's in the United States of America, Blondie. Where stars are born and raised, or sent when they want to become better then what they are. Now: I came here expecting to hear you sing."
Tidus' mouth opened, but all that was managed out was a pathetic, rather high pitched and breathy squeak. The man's face contorted into an unreadable expression, and he said nothing, his one eye simply staring blankly at the injured boy as though he held the secrets of the world.
"Well?"
The boy's mouth stayed open, emitting yet another small squeak as he attempted to justify his own actions. Mr. Sunazaki reached over, closing the injured boy's mouth manually with his index finger before rummaging nonchalantly through a small, black bag that Tidus hadn't known he had brought.
"I knew this was going to happen, "His voice was muffled as his hand roamed deep into his bag, seemingly not finding what he was looking for, "It always does, when I ask somebody to sing on the spot." There was a soft sound of accomplishment from inside the bag, and Mr. Sunazaki emerged, a small booklet clutched in his gloved hand. His brown eye pierced through Tidus' own blue ones dangerously, causing him to feel naked and exposed in the small, sanitary room. "Apparently I intimidate people."
Tidus could only nod, his eyes never leaving their wide, shocked state as the booklet the man had found was thrust into his hands. This action sent a burning pain through his shoulder, which he pointedly ignored, only allowing himself a small wince of pain as he leafed through the pages, carefully eyeing the notes and the words.
"...This is in English." Tidus observed, sneaking a look over at the man beside him curiously, unsure if he was correct or not. Mr. Sunazaki said nothing, merely nodding sharply and turning his head to the side. Tidus hesitated, unsure of what to do, and Auron's eyes turned swiftly back onto their original target.
"You can speak English, can you not?" His voice was harsh and reprimanding, as though Tidus were a three year old that had just gotten his hand stuck in the cookie jar. At Tidus' small, uncertain nod, he continued, his tone ever persistent, "Then you can sing English. I daresay your bodyguard tells me you sing along to English-written songs all the time. This is no different."
Tidus once again nodded, slowly and unsurely, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him as though it were a plague about to strike. Auron gave a clearly frustrated sigh, his eyes focused on the young man in front of him determinately.
"If you should happen to be awarded with my liking, the primary touring opportunities will be in the base of the United States of America. This means you will have to speak and sing English as your first and most-used language. This being said if you can not sing a simple pop song acapella to an audience of one, that one being myself, how do you expect to sing in a foreign language to millions of fans at one time? You must learn to adapt if you want to reach the top."
Tidus' face flushed, and he ducked his head, his blonde hair falling into his face as he tried to hide the fact he was blushing. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and not lose his cool in front of this very influential person. He would not let this guy get to him. He would not.
"Sujakni-san, if you please." A stern voice interrupted his thoughts, and his head snapped up, eyes burning and fists clenched around the papers in his hands. When he spoke, his tone was clipped and pert.
"Sujakni-san is my father." He stated, taking a rather large breath before continuing, "I prefer Tidus. If you don't mind, sir, I am not sure how to pronounce this word." He pointed to a rather difficult looking word in the book, his eyebrows furrowed in anger and his lip in a slight pout. Auron felt his lip twitch slightly upward as he leaned over and glanced in the boy's lap, his eyes pointing themselves at the word underneath the boy's strangely well-manicured finger.
"Ghost." He stated rather bluntly, and waited patiently as Tidus pointed to another word a few pages along. He glanced at it briefly and mentally sighed at the boy's lack of knowledge, "Phantom. You know -"
"What am I supposed to do, with all these blues, haunting me, everywhere, no matter what I do..."
The older man blinked slowly, unused to being interrupted while in the middle of a declaration, especially by a confident voice such as the one he was hearing right now. There were still a few kinks that needed to be worked out, but they were easily smoothed over by the determination and power that could easily be heard as the boy sang, in a language he was not familiar with as well. There was hardly a trace of an accent in his words, which confused him slightly. It appeared that this boy knew more than he was letting on.
"...Seen a lot of broken hearts go sailing by, phantom ships lost at sea, and one of them is mine..."
He winced as Tidus pronounced one of the words he had been uncertain about wrong, but said nothing and let him continue.
"Raising my glass, I sing a toast to the midnight sky; I wonder why the stars don't seem to guide me..."
Nodding his head slightly, the intimidating man uncapped his pen, pulling out his small, unnoticeable note sheet in which he kept in his pocket. He listened carefully, jotting down small notes such as 'strong voice' and 'needs help with pronunciation' in his scrawling, messy English print. Vaguely, the listener's attention was distracted by some sort of commotion in the hallway, but he professionally ignored it.
"I didn't mean to fall in love with you, and baby there's a na..."
"What the hell is going on here!" A gruff, loud voice interrupted Tidus' harshly, causing the boy's voice to immediately stop its melodious trek, and his large blue eyes to become considerably larger in his panic. Mr. Sunazaki, however, stood from his chair un-phased.
"Excuse me sir; as a formal guest in this hospital I am going to have to request that you step outside of the room until after I am finished visiting with young Tidus." His long red overcoat dramatically crinkling, the American proceeded to open the door for the intruder as a way of silently ordering his leave. The new visitor, however, would not be swayed from the spot where his feet seemed cemented to the white tiled floor.
"Who do you think you are! This is my son, and I'll visit him whenever and wherever I feel like! Perhaps It is you who should be leaving, because my son has just been involved in a major car accident and should not be disturbed."
Tidus, unable to defend himself due to his own fear and nervousness, cast a pleading glance toward Mr. Sunazaki for any form of aid in the matter. In response, the man in question simply let his eyes wander towards Tidus' arm –the only souvenir and obvious discomfort from the blonde boy's "major" car accident. With a smirk, Mr. Sunazaki reached one hand up towards his sunglasses and pushed them confidently more downward, so that he could furthermore inspect his rival, while the other hand moved tauntingly towards the pocket of his overcoat.
"I can assure you, Sujakni-san, that Tidus' health is more important to me and my company than it shall ever be in any plans of yours." In an episode of pure dramatic interlude, the hand that had been extended towards the pocket of the red coat reappeared once again, this time with a piece of paper looking remarkably close to an airline ticket. Mr. Sujakni's eyes narrowed in a glare as they followed the hand, calloused by its many years, as the airline ticket passed from said hand into the smaller, softer hand of Tidus.
"This flight, Tidus, is the flight to your future. I'll be waiting on the other side." The man, once intimidating but now seemingly understanding and proud, stated to the blonde boy simply as he took a step back from the bed and picked up his bag once again.
"Good day, Sujakni-san. Tidus," Mr. Sunazaki's dark eyes fixed themselves into Tidus' own of ocean blue, with a silent command of authority as he headed out the door. "I'll see you in Los Angeles."
Tidus blinked, large blue eyes wide in confusion, shock, and slight fear as they darted from his father to the man that had just left.
"Wait!" Tidus called, and swung his legs over the bed, uncaring he was in a hospital robe and barefoot. He sprinted to the door, pushing past his father rather rudely in the process. He was slightly off-balance due to his cast, but managed to make it to the retreating man decently without falling. Nurses called out to him as he tried to match the man's quick pace, but he paid them no mind, his eyes only on one single man wearing a red trench coat. "Who are you? ... What is this? I don't understand!"
The man looked over his shoulder at him, a small smirk adorning his features as his eyes moved up and down Tidus' body in a scrutinizing manner. His one eye seemed to hold more power and emotion than most could hold in two, and he seemed to radiate authority and leadership as he spoke.
"Use that plane ticket to reach Los Angeles. The time, date, and terminal number is listed. It will all be explained to you there." His voice, emotionless once more, softened slightly as he continued, "Your dreams are going to come true in the form of V.A.L. Industries, kid."
Tidus blinked, unsure that what the man in front of him was saying was true. His dreams were going to... come true? How cliché did that sound? He vaguely considered pinching himself, but decided against it, considering his present company.
"But – that still doesn't explain who you are." He stated plainly, hoping he wasn't being too rude. He watched the man's mouth twitch upward as his gloved hand moved to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
"I'm your new manager, kid. Call me Auron."
With those last words, Tidus found himself starting at the back of a trench coat as it strode confidently out the large double doors of the hospital. He blinked, something he felt he might be doing a lot lately, and moved cautiously back to his room, not looking forward to explaining this to his father.