Disclaimer 1: Final Fantasy and Final Fantasy X belong to Squaresoft. The world of Spira and all associated characters belong to Squaresoft. This story is written and published without permission or consent of Squaresoft. This is a fictional story made for purely entertainment purposes. The author of this story does not claim to own the world of Final Fantasy, or any characters or likenesses. Any relation to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Author's Note: The Al Bhed in this story are speaking Al Bhed, unless otherwise noted. While they have a language all of their own, all prose and dialogue will be in English (or Yevonite, if you prefer), with a few notable exceptions.

For Love Of The Game
(c) 2003, 2005 Mayumi.H

4 - The Other Half (Eigaar)

Eigaar stared up at the darkened ceiling over his bunk, tracing the lines of the metal plates with his eyes. He'd spent a long time looking at this ceiling, at the same grey, rectangular plates that sheltered him for weeks at a time.

Since Al Bhed weren't exactly welcome in most towns, the Psyches had gotten into the routine of staying on the transport ship rather than renting rooms from the local establishments. It was certainly cheaper that way, and more reliable, but it also made trips a lot more boring. What was the point of travelling if he never got to see anything except for these four walls?

There was only one time that he could remember staying the night off-ship. The Psyches had taken part in an exhibition match against the Fangs, near the Ronso's home of Mount Gagazet, and they had been told in no uncertain terms that it would be very impolite to refuse Ronso hospitality. To everyone's surprise, the Ronsos were pretty good hosts. Judda had ended up getting sick from the cold, and Blappa had ended up getting sick from the wine, but Eigaar had enjoyed his time with the Fangs immensely.

The Ronsos seemed to understand his plight more than any other race did. Inherently different because of the way that they looked and sounded, the Ronsos shared a special, unspoken kinship with the Al Bhed. Not to mention the fact that they had a great blitzball team. In the three years that Eigaar had been on the Psyches, he learned that the Fangs were the only team that could consistently give the Goers a run for their money. He remembered asking Gazna about it one night. (Gazna understood Al Bhed about as well as Eigaar understood Ronso, but they somehow managed to communicate well enough.)

"Goers not strong," Gazna had told him in stilted Al Bhed. "Fast, not strong." He had clapped Eigaar on the back, making him sputter his drink. "Like little Psyche." He had laughed then, a booming, basso guffaw.

Eigaar remembered wiping his face and chuckling. "Psyches stronger than Goers," he had said, his throat rumbling over the unfamiliar Ronso words. Where Al Bhed was spoken mostly from the tongue and roof of the mouth, he had found that most Ronso words had to be spoken from the belly.

Gazna's eyes had widened in surprise, and then he had laughed again, so loudly that everyone in the room had turned to them. "Ah! We see tomorrow!" He had poked the table, leaving a little dent where his claw broke the wood.

The game, as it turned out, was a short one. Exhibition matches didn't mean anything for league standing, since they were little more than exercises, so winners really didn't matter, but almost everyone had come away having learned something new. That had been the first time Eigaar had seen anyone do a spin ball before, and all of the Psyches forwards had begged the Ronso shooters to show them how to do it. Eigaar still hadn't gotten the hang of that spin ball.

Thinking about Gazna made him laugh to himself. He was actually looking forward to seeing the Ronso captain again. Maybe he even had some new tricks up his sleeve....

The door to the room slid open, and Blappa slipped in, being careful not to make too much noise.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Eigaar asked, leaning over the side of the mattress as his roommate sat down on the bottom bunk.

"I thought you'd be asleep," Blappa muttered.

"Where were you anyway?" Not that Eigaar didn't know, but he wanted to hear it straight from the chocobo's mouth.

Blappa pulled off his boots and spoke into his chest. "Up on deck," he said, as if it were perfectly natural. "Keeping Lakkam company."

Eigaar rolled his eyes behind his goggles. "You're not going to start that again, are you?" He pulled himself farther off the bunk as Blappa laid down, hands linked behind his head. "She's just a kid."

Blappa shook his head. "She's not a kid," he said emphatically.

"She's the same age as Aniki's little sister," Eigaar reasoned. "That's a kid."

Blappa kicked at the top bunk. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

Eigaar rolled over onto his back again. But he wanted to have the parting shot, so he said, "Just remember what Nimrook said about not being worn out for the game."

Blappa sighed. "I'll be fine."

After a silent pause, Eigaar felt his bunk rattle. "Stop it," he told Blappa.

"Then shut up and go to sleep," Blappa countered.

Eigaar blew a long breath, then settled into the mattress. "Fine."

He pulled his goggles off and tossed them over the bedpole, as he usually did, and rolled over onto his side. As he closed his eyes, he thought about how, even though being a Psyche was what he'd always wanted, he wouldn't mind seeing how the other half lived. Maybe a trader, like Rin, who was accepted all over Spira. Or someone like Cid, who was a great leader respected by all. At the moment, anything seemed better than being a blitzball player waiting for a game.

Suddenly, his bunk rattled again. He leaned over the edge of his mattress and looked hard at Blappa. "I said, quit it."

Blappa's face was paler than usual. "That wasn't me," he murmured.

A second later, there was a clamor from the hall, and he heard someone - probably one of the crew - shouting: "Fiends! Fiends on the deck! Get the guns!"

Eigaar jumped from his bunk, and he and Blappa, still barefoot, raced into the hall.

"What is it?" Eigaar asked, as Berrik came running up.

Berrik shoved a rifle into his hands, and pointed toward the main deck. "There's a fiend out there - a big one. Take this and help the others hold it off." He grabbed Blappa by the arm. "Come on; Ropp needs our help with the crane."

Eigaar gripped the rifle hard, feeling the sweat collect between his fingers as he ran off in one direction, and Berrik and Blappa ran off in another. Tysh, what was he in for now?

He followed the distinctive clatter of gunfire out to the main deck, and as he cleared the main hatch, he stopped in his tracks, his arm falling to his side.

He'd seen fiends before, in the desert surrounding Home, but somehow those hadn't looked quite so terrifying. This one - a large, Zuu-like creature with massive black wings and a cragged beak - bore down on the Al Bhed crew with its large claws, sending crewmen every which way. How did something so huge get all the way here, to the Luca docks? Was some Crusader asleep on the job?

Someone screamed at him to start firing, and he shook the shock from his brain. He raised the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and pulled the trigger, and the shots went wildly off-mark. He was a blitzball player, for rot's sake - he wasn't used to this.

The fiend came around for another pass, and he crouched beside the hatch, taking more careful aim this time. Everyone on deck with a gun seemed to have the same idea, because a short cluster of shots hit the fiend in its monstrous breast. How many of them were shooting - six, seven? The fiend fell to the deck, its neck swinging crazily. Was it enough?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Judda, backed up against the crane, her rifle tight in her hands. She opened her mouth to scream as the fiend swung its head in her direction. She fell flat to the deck, the beak missing her by less than a meter, and Eigaar felt his heart jump into his throat.

Another gunman fired into the back of the fiend's head, as if to draw its attention. Eigaar realized it was Nimrook, who then shouted: "Get her!"

Eigaar didn't wait. He sprinted forward, his arms pumping for speed and the adrenaline coursing through him more than it ever had during any game. He scooped Judda up beneath her arms and dragged her behind the crane, which was starting to choke itself to life.

The fiend took a swing with its beak at Nimrook and two other firing crewmen, who dove out of the way, and then it turned back to Eigaar and Judda. With a sickening awareness, Eigaar realized that he had thrown his rifle to the ground when he'd made his mad dash. He angled himself in front of Judda and shut his eyes tight.

"Duck!" someone yelled, and he instinctively dropped, covering Judda with his larger frame.

There was a whoosh of displaced air as the crane's arm swerved over the deck, hitting the fiend square in the neck. It shrieked, long and loud, and he felt the deck shudder as it fell.

For a long moment, there was eerie silence, until he felt a hand on his back. He looked up from where he was still lying over Judda, to find Nimrook standing over him.

"Are you two all right?" Nimrook asked, still a little breathless.

Eigaar looked at Judda, who nodded weakly. He turned back to Nimrook and managed to stammer: "I th- I think so." He pushed himself up, to give his teammate some room, and air. She was definitely shaken, and blanched.

Nimrook knelt down next to them and rubbed his hand across her back. "It's done, now," he whispered.

Eigaar sat back, his arms propped up on his knees, and sighed. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't gotten that crane working in time. He and Judda could have been hurt, or worse. Was that what Crusaders, or guardians, went through? Did they have to do it on a daily basis?

Eigaar shook his head. For the first time in a long time, he was glad he was just a blitzball player.