2. SPIRA
I awoke drowning.
My lungs burned for air and I thrashed about, my bearings lost and no idea whether I was facing the sky or the ground. I opened my eyes and could see I was just below the surface of the water and with one upwards push I broke through to air.
Sweet merciful air, air that I could not breathe and yet needed all the same. I often reflected on how strange it was that despite being dead and gone, an unsent creature could react the same as a living one. Pain, emotions, injuries. All still existed. But all would not kill you.
My knees touched ground and I crawled forward, out of the surf and into warm, comforting sand that I had not felt in at least a decade. Forgetting the metallic coldness of Zanarkand all at once, I lay back on the beach with my face to the sun and, for the first time in 10 years, smiled with genuine joy.
Spira.
Home.
I lay there for some time, letting the water soak my legs again and again as it surged upwards across the sand. For the first time since I had died I felt, ironically, so completely alive.
"Hey! You! Get off my beach!"
I tilted my head to the left and saw a small child, no more than ten years old at the most, glaring in my direction with both hands on her hips and her lip stuck out in an almost comical way. I sat up, leaning back on both hands. "Your beach?"
The girl nodded and stepped forward, still keeping up her angry facade. It was all I could do to keep from smiling as I kept up my own facade of petulance.
"That's my house," she stated, pointing to a hut a few meters away, "and so that means this beach is mine."
"Ah." I stood then, watching as she skittered back a few feet upon seeing my height, and nodded to her. "Apologies for my trespassing."
The girl narrowed her tiny blue eyes, this time in curiosity. She squinted at my face, then asked, "Are you a guardian?"
Guardian. A term I had heard only from myself since leaving Spira. It shocked me to hear it.
But then, it should not have. I had soared through dreams for some distance alongside Sin, and with me brought the end of a Calm and the start of a new age of pain and suffering. I had brought death to this place.
"No." I walked forward, passing her, and realised with some annoyance that she followed.
"But you look just like-"
"-a shipwrecked man from Bevelle," I cut her off, turning to look at her. She saw my one eye then, torn and scarred shut, let out a tiny 'meep' and nodded quickly. I sighed and pushed my glasses higher to hide the injury and knelt beside her.
"You should run home."
Another quick nod. I sighed once more. Children were difficult to deal with no matter what the issue, and I'd never been comfortable around them. "Where are we?" I asked more gently, forcing my mouth into a twisted half smile.
Her shoulders relaxed and she stated, with some pride, "Kilika." And then, as an afterthought, she bowed to me, spreading both arms wide, and the placing both palms together. The prayer of Yevon. "Welcome." The whole act seemed artificial with her doing it, as if she were merely acting in a way she had been taught. I half expected 'Yevon be praised you are safe!' to come shrieking from her much in the way half of Spira would cry out at such inappropriate times, but she merely stood there smiling at me, a look of I done good on her tiny face.
I tousled her hair gently. "Run home." And with that last exchange I turned my back on her, knowing that there was no doubt she would be lucky to see her next birthday, knowing that if I never learned her name I would never grow attached to a memory of a life snuffed out so young.
Kilika. And, nearby, Luca.
I could only hope the boy was safe.
Nearly a day later, the first boat came into Kilika harbor. Though I stood at the dock for at least an hour, I caught no sight of his honey blonde hair through the crowd of tanned dockworkers. One of these dockworkers informed me of their route taking a turn to Luca just in time for the Blitzball tournament.
I knew I had to be on the boat the instant the sport was mentioned. Not only was Luca the central hub of all of Spira and it's trade, even more so than Bevelle, but Tidus could never keep away from his sport. If he had survived, it was where he would go.
Ticket paid for with the rest of the liquid anesthetic at my hip, I boarded the ship a day later for my week long journey to Luca.
I had not spent much time there in my youth, most of my energy devoted to the study of Yevon and preparing myself for the day I could perhaps guide a Summoner to Zanarkand. I had no time for the trivialities of recreation, friends, women. I was dedicated to my duty, and I did it well.
But having been there, as an outcast warrior monk and as a guardian of Summoner Braska, I had found myself in a haze of sounds, sights, smells- an overwhelming of every sense that left me dazed and out of my element. And not even the fast paced lifestyle of Zanarkand had ever managed to live up to the sheer life that Luca offered in it's many eateries or market stalls.
Three days into my journey- three days spent sleeping, bartering for Spiran currency and asking a variety of people questions of the history of Spira in the past ten years -I stepped outside into the open air once more and made my way to the head of the ship.
Spira was as I remembered, but somewhat more...fragile. People carried on as if there were no problems, but each smile was strained, each laugh shaky. Gone was the glory of summoners marching off to death. All that remained was fear and sorrow, perpetuated by that which I had brought back to them. They kept praying, and in turn Yevon continued to betray them.
And such was the way of Spira. A cruel, ironic story with no end.
My gaze drifted. To the Northeast there was a blur of movement, a haze over the water. It was heading the direction we had left from, the direction of Kilika.
"Sin..." I heard whimpered from where the other passengers sat in the shade. Slowly the shout grew and soon half of the passengers were crowded on deck, leaning over the guard ropes and shouting and pointing fingers and...it was all so futile. I remained the only one impassive. The only one who knew what would take place, and would continue to take place until the first Summoner reached Zanarkand and did what Braska had already futilely done.
The sea seemed to flow against itself, then, gravitating in the direction of Sin. I could see over the water a tidal wave gathering itself to him. He would reach Kilika within a few hours and bring with him death.
Gritting my teeth in anger, pushing the image of the young girl on the beach from my mind, I turned in one move and strode back to my cabin and to the few days of peace I would have left.
