Disclaimer: Characters belong to Square, Game belongs to Square, All copyrights thereof belong to Square, This Fan Fiction belongs to Me
Thank you for your review, Syncopative, I really appreciate the encouragement, here's the update you asked for!
Warning: Some of the content can be interpreted as Yuna-bashing, and it kind of is. Just want to let you know, I really do like Yuna, but I don't agree with the way she was portrayed in Final Fantasy X-2, and that has become a sort of launch-block for this story.
Wait! Don't stop reading! The entire story is not based on that (it would be just boring then, wouldn't it?). In fact, one of the main themes is coming to terms with people around you and discovering your own moral code … or something deep of that nature.
Whew, thanks for not pressing that 'Back' key up there. Please enjoy and please review, I want to know what to do to get better.
Tears of a Forgotten Summoner Chapter 2: Harsh RealityMaking sure the shabby cowl of his worn cloak hid his face properly, Tidus tilted his chin upward ever so slightly, trying to glimpse the woman that had captured the cold lifeless heart still beating within his chest. She wasn't there yet, he observed with a slight twinge of sadness. Someone jostled him, murmuring some rude comment about poor drunkards, then was gone as another filled the void left by the moving body.
Tidus stared after the person for a moment, how dare they call him a drunkard? Maybe it was the clothes, everyone here was in their finest and he must have looked like some homeless beggar. But even so, that one had no place to speak, especially considering that he had been boozing himself sick just an hour ago. The former guardian could smell it on his breath, could see the dulled reflexes, and his body language screamed that he thought himself superior to all.
The young man looked around at the others gathered, his concealed eyes burning through their masks and acts. After years of dealing with the people of Spira, he had picked up the ability to look through the guises those of this world donned.
Another ripple of cheers cascaded around the man and he looked up to see the High Summoner, the one woman that could calm his heart, that innocent girl he had known three years ago. One of the few humans that didn't make him want to turn around in disgust. The girl that wore no mask, the young woman that had so much kindness and decency.
His Yuna.
His eyes traveled from the platform she stood on to the girl herself … and froze.
It was different.
One thought dominated his consciousness: Not her, this is not Yuna. It can't be.
What he saw wasn't lost innocence, for he saw that in himself every single day. What he saw wasn't Yuna, it wasn't that girl he had known and perhaps loved. No, it was a half-naked woman that simply looked like Yuna.
His right fist clenched, the fingerless glove that covered it groaning with the strain and Tidus bit into his lip savagely, cold blood welling up and rolling down his chin. As much as he wanted to deny that this woman wasn't the girl he had known, his heightened senses wouldn't allow it.
That was Yuna, alright. A corrupted version, but yes, that was her. Her body language spoke of someone that had become arrogant, of one that had lost morals. His eyes narrowed, willing a true flash of insight to hit him, but he didn't need it to see further into what she had been doing. Sphere hunting, uncovering history for a price, people paid her to save villages, going on her own little crusade. Perhaps he had inherited a little of the Sight given to Seers and their minions, because there was no logical explanation to what he sensed and saw next.
Tidus's eyes widened as more of her exploits entered his mind. Shuyin and Lenne. She had destroyed her own Calm, those two would have rested eternally if she hadn't gone poking her nose where it didn't belong. If she hadn't provoked the fates then Vegnagun would have never reawakened. She believed that she sent them peacefully on their way to the Farplane. No, she toyed with fate, but that didn't matter to her, did it? She came out unscathed, her mind free of the guilt it should hold.
Rage flashed through Tidus, she had destroyed them both, their souls would have been safe. Sure, the Schism wasn't closed completely, it never would be, not after what happened in Zanarkand one thousand years ago, but it had been stable after Sin's passing. That was supposed to be the last task to stabilize Spira, the Three Sinners have entered eternal sleep at long last, and the tortured souls of those who had died in the Schism were resting peacefully, not on the wretched thing called the Farplane, but in heaven. Shuyin and Lenne had been happy, Yuna destroyed that and reopened the Schism.
It was only a matter of time until the Three Sinners returned and all hell would break loose.
Tidus gritted his teeth, as his eyes returned to Yuna's form. This woman had destroyed his brother's soul with her meddling, she would not be forgiven. He was vaguely aware of others around her, Rikku, a silver-haired woman all in leather, a white-haired man that looked to be a priest, and a blonde that could have been a clown in another life. There were others but the man didn't care because at that moment his eyes locked onto the symbol suspended between her barely covered breasts. The symbol of the Zanarkand Abes, or so she thought.
That symbol was his trademark. She wore it upside down like she had seen him do, but he only upended it when he was in disguise. His own hand came up to grasped the black symbol at his throat, her 'Zanarkand Abes' insignia turned the right way. This was the emblem of his temple, before the Schism ripped it into a million pieces, that is.
How dare she? That was the symbol Shuyin and Lenne had lived by as well, the symbol that she now wore to keep the strips of cloth from falling off and revealing the rest of her bust.
How dare she mock them? How dare she mock him?
This woman is the one he had allowed to leech off his summoning powers because hers were simply too weak to even gain her the first aeon. Well, the first bound aeon. The aeons have never regained their true form after the Schism and had to adopt the lives of those lost to even stay alive at all. The Fayth were never the aeons themselves, they were just tools, used by the Three Sinners to ensure that the world they ruined would find peace. The true aeons were entities that no summoner in the last thousand years could handle.
Tidus squeezed his eyes shut, this was what he was working toward all these years. He was told that Yuna would end the cycle and maybe even bring his tortured soul some rest. But no, he had died over and over, endured all that pain, never allowed himself to love or care, and almost destroyed himself for nothing.
His eyes snapped open as he heard the woman's laugh, probably at something one of her adoring fans said. The man felt his face contort with pure unbridled hate. That woman was just throwing dirt in his face, relishing her new position and the hoards of loyal grunts under her designer boots. He watched her walk closer to the end of the platform, flashing a winning smile, showboating shamelessly.
That. Was. It.
Tidus's right hand raised in front of him almost of its own accord and he snapped his fingers, invoking a small amount of magic, isolating it to one item, and releasing the energy as soon as his thumb touched his index finger at the close of the snap.
The symbol on Yuna's shirt erupted in flame, burning it up within seconds, but not spreading anywhere else. Tidus watched as the woman stumbled back, screaming in surprise. She need not have, the fire wouldn't burn her, in fact it was out before she fell to the ground, only leaving three scorch marks on the white strips of cloth that were her shirt, where the sign had been attached.
The crowd screamed in panic and started to stampede, the people on the platform doing the same. Tidus was the only person that wasn't in motion, in fact, he felt frozen.
He had lashed out at her. Tidus could hardly believe it himself, but he had. Even though she wasn't hurt and would only be stunned, that didn't change the fact that he had attacked her in a fit of rage. His hands were shaking slightly and he looked at them, one with a fingerless glove and the other encased in black armor to the shoulder.
I could have killed her.
The thought came unbidden and he recoiled from it.
I have the power. I could have struck her dead where she stood.
His hands stopped shaking and he balled them into fists.
She deserves to die.
He looked up again as a passing person rammed into his shoulder at a dead run, knocking him back a bit.
Do I … Do I want to hurt her? Do I want to kill her? Do I hate her? … Or love her?
His eyes closed, everything he saw was too painful, he felt his very heart be ripped out and destroyed between the teeth of some beast.
This … is a dream. It has to be. Just a nightmare. I will wake and she will still be that girl I knew. She will still be that pillar to my humanity.
Slowly, the tremors that shook his body quieted and the clenched fists relaxed, hanging limp by his sides. His cerulean eyes opened again and he watched the chaos, then turned from it, walking away noiselessly, going to a place he himself didn't know of yet. He would stay away forever where he could silently sink into madness, hoping that that would take away the pain.
No, this is not a dream. This is reality.
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A/N: I've been told that this story is confusing, and, well, it is, even to me. But don't worry! I know what I'm doing … maybe. Answers are coming, I promise. But if you are exceptionally confused, please review or send me a message, I'll be happy to help.
Be safe
Rose Northe