"Hey!" Miss Prija shouted, "Wake up! The summoners are here!"

Hana moaned and tried to cover her eyes with her face, but they were snatched away. She could feel that the air was cold and damp, meaning that it was still quite early. Why did they have to come at this hour?

Miss Prija lifted her to a sitting position and began unraveling the bandages around her head. They felt dry. "My," she crooned, "You heal rather quick. This might be the last roll that I'm going to have to use on you."

Once again, she wrapped a clean bandage around Hana's head as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Why do I have to be there during the sending," she asked, "when I don't have anything to do with it?"

"Mind your manners!" Miss Prija snapped, "You need to pay your respects. The locals here already hate you for what you are. Do you want them to hate you for who you are as well?"

"That's fair," Hana replied, glancing at a dress neatly folded on top of her wetsuit. "Is that for me?"

"Yes," Miss Prija said as she finished wrapping the bandage, "Unless you feel like attending in a house robe?"

"I don't."

"Very well," Miss Prija replied as she wobbled near the exit, "Come out when you're dressed."

Hana buried her hands in her face. She was nervous, excited, and angry all at the same time: nervous because she was an Al Bhed on Yevonite territory, excited because she had never witnessed a sending, and angry that the sending was taking place at all.

She picked up the scarlet-coloured dress and held it out in front of her. It had gold trim on the bottom hem and sleeves, and although she had never had a taste for feminine clothing, she had to admit that it looked lovely. 'Too bad I'm going to ruin the image with my beat up head', she laughed to herself.

She disrobed and threw the dress over her head, minding her head wound. She was surprised that it fit like a second skin. It was always difficult finding clothing that fit her tiny frame. Her mother found it easier to make Hana's clothing herself, even still now that she was nineteen.

Outside, a group of twenty-something conglomerated around the hut of the deceased. It was easy to tell who the summoners were by their long, vibrant robes. She counted three. One draped in cyan blue and silver, one draped in violet and gold, and the other draped in olive green and copper. She wondered if the colours symbolized anything.

She stepped barefoot onto the cold, dewy grass towards the solemn group. She was careful to not stand so close, but not too far away lest the others think that she's being disrespectful. She saw a small auburn-haired boy, no more than seven years old, clutch his mother's leg and cry out for his father. The father with the cloudy eyes that looked at nothing. It made her feel as if a wooden stake was driven into her heart a million times over. 'Spira,' she thought, 'A perfect name for the spiral of death.'

In fluid motion, the summoner in the olive green and gold robe ordered everyone to give him space as he swung his rod like a pendulum at his feet. Hana was entranced by his baritone voice. It was one of those voices that you heard and obeyed without question. It was calm, but deep and commanding.

The group backed away about ten feet as the summoner twirled the golden, beaded rod above his head. Hana's eyes were stuck on him like butterfly wings pinned to a corkboard. He pirouetted and swung his rod around him with his arm outstretched. Just then, little orbs of blue and purple began to emit from the hut. Mesmerized, she watched their translucent rainbow tails swaying in the wind as they disappeared into the sky towards the farplane.

She heard the townspeople gasp- or maybe sighs of relief? An elderly man fell to his knees and prayed, "Praise be to Yevon, praise be to Yevon" over and over again under his raspy breath. It creeped her out. The little auburn-haired boy was now cradled in his mother's arms, both sobbing as they walked away. She saw Miss Prija perform the prayer, forming her hands as if she were holding an invisible orb, but she could not bring herself to follow suit.

She needed to get away, now. The air seemed thick and heavy from the occasion, making Hana's breaths too short. She felt dizzy. She felt hot. She felt overwhelmed. But where to go? Barefoot, she ran towards the sound of the ocean, down a sandy path. She barely felt the stray rocks jabbing into her soles. The beats of her steps seemed to cry 'he's dead, he's dead, he's dead'.

She arrived at the shore and kicked the water. "Fuck you!" She screamed at it, wishing that it could somehow feel pain. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"You shouldn't get so angry with such an injury." A baritone voice behind her calmly said, "You should rest."

It was one of the summoners. The one in cyan and silver. He walked toward her and knelt in the sand.

"Why did you follow me?" She spat.

"A young woman with a bandaged head, running away all by herself? Why would I not?" He replied, his cobalt eyes fixed on the horizon.

"You don't know me."

"I don't need to."

'The nerve of this guy,' Hana thought to herself. She stared at him hard, with the same stare that her father told her could make someone burst into flames. His chestnut hair brushed against his high cheekbones as the wind hit his face. 'At least he's cute, I guess.'

She sat next to him and fixated on the teal water lapping up on the sand. "So, then," she said, "You're a summoner."

He nodded. "And you hate that."

Her eyes burned with tears.

"I just don't get it!" She said, "If I have a coffee mug that I use for years, and then I drop it and it breaks, it makes all the times I've used it more valuable. Sending souls to the farplane like you do, it- it takes away from our experiences. It cheapens them."

He stayed silent as he continued to admire the horizon. He even smiled a little bit, the bastard.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" She screamed as she shook his shoulder. Still, he said nothing. She began to beat her tiny fists on his back. "How can you smile at a time like this?"

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her head into his lap. He twirled her blonde ringlets in his fingers as he shushed her. She felt her body grow heavy and exhausted.

"My brother is dead," she cried softly, "And my poor parents probably think that I'm dead, too."

"Both of my parents are dead," he replied, "I think it's quite beautiful how loss brings everyone together, no matter who they are or where they came from."

"It's terrible."

"But necessary."

She buried her face in his robe and took a few deep breaths. Maybe this guy wasn't so terrible, after all. Just brainwashed.

"Your brother, did you see him in that hut?" he asked.

"No. We were at sea. I woke up here."

"I had a feeling that was the case," he said while he brushed his hand against her cheek, "We are going to Kilika tomorrow to perform a sending. Perhaps your brother will be there and you could get some closure."

She sobbed into his robe and thought about yelling at him some more, about telling him that she would rather Cid be eaten by fish.

"You do know that-" she began.

"You're Al Bhed," he interrupted, "I don't care about that. Why don't we go back into the village to rest? We leave in the morning."

He rose, holding Hana up by the waist. Even though she hated feeling weak, his warm shoulder comforted her.

"Hana," she whispered.

"Braska," he said back.