Despite the merciless cold of Mt. Gagazet, its natural hot springs brought relief and comfort to the traveling party. The springs were situated on the highest slopes of the massive mountain, and through Kimahri's negotiations with his fellow Ronso, they were granted permission to spend their time there. It was understood that unlike the lean thickness of the Ronso exterior, the skin of humans would end up frost-bitten if they were to stay out in the cold for too long.
Thankful for the gesture of support, Yuna spent as much time as she possibly could bathing in the heated water, relaxing her tense muscles, and enjoying the soothing silence of the mountains. While Tidus, Wakka, and Auron ventured off to test the stability of the path that would eventually lead to Zanarkand, Kimahri stood just outside the entrance to the hot springs, keeping guard of his dear summoner.
"Kimahri?"
She could see the silhouette of the Ronso in the distance. He tilted his head to a side to steer his attention in her direction.
"Where is Rikku and Lulu?"
"Kimahri do not know. Two guardians could be in cave, preparing fire and food."
"Oh, I see," she said, and then paused for a moment. "Do you think they might need any help?"
Silence. She decided to continue.
"I'm fine here. And I don't think anyone can get in. All the paths are sealed, aren't they? You should go and help the others, Kimahri. This is your home and you know it better than we do."
She tried in every sense to sound convincing, without actually insulting the proud Ronso guardian. After another moment of silence, he walked back to the caves and disappeared from view.
She sighed in relaxation and sunk deeper into the spring. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the stone edge that supported her backside, and began to drift into a peaceful sleep. Just as she began to sink deeper into sleep, she saw through her foggy view a figure standing at the far end of the pool.
She waved her hands in midair, attempting to direct the steamy fog elsewhere.
"Kimahri?"
No answer.
She stood silent a moment longer, until she decided to get out of the water. She grabbed the massive piece of cloth that was draped over a stone seat beside the spring, and covered herself in it. As she progressed closer to where the figure stood, the steam began to clear and the cold air began to sink in from the open entrance. She walked past the clearing and suddenly gaped in shock as the figure came into view.
Seymour stood fixed in his post, unwilling to move. He starred at her blankly, while one hand was placed over the side of his abdomen. Her eyes trailed from his face to the spot his hand had covered, and she noticed blood outlining the embellished fabric.
"You're bleeding!" She said in horror, and stepped closer to get a better look.
She directed him to step toward the edge of the steamy water, not only to get warm, but to heal the wound and possibly wash it out. As he sat himself on the marble seat of stone, she began to tear a long section of the cloth that covered her. He looked in wonder as she worked in speedy fashion, sparing not a second to waste. This was not a time for games. His wound continued to bleed and if pressure was not applied, he would end up bleeding to death.
After tearing away the long piece of cloth completely, she looked up at him.
"You'll have to take this off," she held onto the edge of the fabric that covered his upper body, and beckoned for him to remove it.
He slowly unfastened the buttons and let the heavy piece of cloth fall to the ground, exposing his bare skin to the cold air. He did not shudder, nor did he flinch. She removed his blood-stained hand from the wound and immediately wrapped her cloth around his abdomen. Thanks to the thickness and durability of the cloth, the bleeding stopped by the time she finished wrapping. Afterward, she cleansed her stained hands in the water and stood up.
"The hot springs are fueled with clean water. You can wash your hands in it," she said.
As he bent down and began to clean his bloody hands, she could not help but stare at the bare-backed figure that stood in front of her. Because of the panic she found herself in earlier, she was so busy worrying of his wound that she had completely forgotten who she had just helped. And now he was sitting there, half naked, and badly wounded. Before her wonder began to work its magic again, she caught herself starring at him while he still cleaned his hands and refreshed his face in the hot water.
After a moment, he sat upright, using his stained piece of clothing on the ground as a towel to dry himself. Her eyes were now glued to his bare appearance, apparently fixed on the chiseled physique of his upper body. She could see traces of water still trailing down his silky skin, gone unnoticed by him. Never in a thousand years would Yuna envision herself in such a compromising position. She could feel her senses begin to pulsate faster than usual, as the heat rose to her cheeks, causing her to blush in embarrassment. Still, she found it impossible to steer her eyes elsewhere.
She had no idea just how fixated her gaze had been, until he turned and looked at her. She turned crimson when their eyes met, and averted hers to the other side of the pool in humiliation. After recollecting herself, she looked back at him and noticed that something was wrong. It seemed as if he did not gain enough strength to do much of anything, and as he sat there, he could not muster the strength to speak completely.
"I... I'm sorry," he said after a moment of silence.
She looked at the ground in embarrassment, not sure of what to say. He continued.
"The... other night. Yuna, I... I apologize about the other... night."
His eyes were fixed on her, while hers were still trailing the ground between them. After a moment, she looked at him.
"It's okay," she said quietly, eyes finding a trail to the ground again. "How is your wound?" She asked in an attempt to change the subject.
"Better than ever," he replied with a smile. "I would've... died in these mountains, if it weren't for you. Thank you," he said sincerely.
She smiled faintly, glad to be of help. She suddenly felt the blissful warmth of the springs come to life again. The atmosphere cleared and sense came back to her. After a moment, she wanted to satisfy her curiosity and discover the reason for such a wound, but seeing as to how his breathing was still coarse, she decided that it would be wise to allow for him to rest.
As he sat there, starring blankly into the steamy water, she felt a pang of guilt surge through her. If anything, he seemed more human to her in this moment than she had ever perceived for him to be. As she thought of how she ran out in a panic that night, she shook her head in mild disapproval. He never meant to hurt her, and something inside her changed as she looked at him. Maybe it was time to start over. Maybe it was time she stop judging him from what the rest of Spira seemed to think. Then again, just because they were on the summit of the sacred mountain of the Ronso, it did not change anything. Seymour was still a maester and a high priest. She was still a summoner, and her journey was not over.
As she shook herself out of thinking, her eyes were still on him.
"You should rest, maester," she said.
"Please, call me Seymour," he said wearily.
Before he had the chance to say anything else, he suddenly collapsed. Yuna plunged in to catch him, right before he hit the stone ground.