3. ANIMA
The sun shone as our ship pulled into Luca port, but none on board bore any semblance of a smile. There were grim expressions and tears surrounding me. The grief was suffocating. The offloading ramp had been connected for only a few seconds before I forced my way to the front of the group and descended onto the boardwalk.
Luca's general atmosphere was that of joy. With the tournament due to happen the next day each blitzball team was arriving only a few hours apart. Making my way around the stadium that was ringed by each dock, I learned that the teams from Besaid and Kilika islands were delayed and again felt that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Everywhere I went I was met by an equal divide of joy and sorrow. The joy felt inappropriate, but being around the sadness for more than a few seconds made my chest ache enough that I would rush away and pause until it had faded.
I wasn't used to grief. Not since I had last felt it, as the only confidant I had in the entirety of Zanarkand smiled and withered away to join her husband, her dry lips whispering so quiet I had to lean forward to hear, "It's okay, it's fine, take care of him, it will be alright", over and over and over again until her hand let go of mine. My fingers unconsciously clenched at the memory of her body fading to pyreflies while the boy slept.
My mouth grew dry as I stood there reliving memories I had suppressed long ago. I glanced around the docks, then made my way to the only place I had paused at in Luca before Braska had carried on with the journey.
The taverna was as loud as I remembered, but now, instead of a wide-eyed youth experiencing life all over again beyond Bevelle's walls, I was a husk of a man simply looking for escape. I ordered the strongest drink they offered- an Al Bhed concoction containing some form of berry found only in the desert and ground cactuar needles -and seated myself in the corner.
And waited.
Somewhere between glass half full and glass half empty I felt the burning ache of grief once more and pressed my gloved fingers to my eye before the tears could fall.
Yunalesca came to me in a dream.
Of course you're back. I wondered dimly if she could see me. Much like a statue she stood immobile, so far away I could have run for days and still not caught her. Where have you been? I will discover, all in due time. Of course you would survive.
"Of course. If only I can move this patron..."
I awoke. The bartender was at my side, a glare in his eyes but a smile on his lips. My drink was long finished and two Lucan citizens stood expectantly waiting for, quite obviously, myself to move. I glanced around and realised the bar had filled while I rested; in fact, the bar had started its next morning of service and I had slept through the crowded nightlife and straight past sunrise. The bars in Luca stayed open for full days leading up to the tournament, I dimly recalled, and I had overstayed my welcome.
I slipped out of the booth and gathered my belongings, then made my way out into the square. Another sun-filled day yet again, the day the tournament began. The boats from the islands would no doubt arrive soon and I quickened my pace to reach their scheduled docking places.
It was halfway there I heard a familiar laugh and I glanced upward, spotting the blonde hair and pearly white grin the instant the screen focused on it. Coverage of the arrival of the final teams and there stood Tidus, laughing as he yelled something unintelligible at the home team. It brought a slight quirk to my lips; he had always been outspoken, always gotten himself into trouble.
Rather than go to him- sphere cameras were the last thing I needed capturing my 'legendary' visage -I made my way to the stadium and found an out of the way seat for myself in the shade. It was there I sat for hours until the stadium prepared the sphere pool of congealed water and the competition began. I didn't watch. My eyes were focused on the distant horizon over the water. Any sight of Sin and I would be at the boy's side in a moment-...
Braska.
Blinking, I stared unbelieving further down into the crowd as I saw his face once more. Half blind from the sun, I couldn't be sure of what I had seen. I had nearly risen to my feet when the face turned and gentle brown hair rested against her cheeks. No, it wasn't Braska, nor was it his partner and wife Ikkei. It was their daughter, full of shining life and cheering on the team that hailed from her own village. And then I heard something I would never have expected.
She shouted "Tidus!", and far away in the sphere pool the boy gave her a thumbs up, a smile and performed the special goal-scoring shot he had honed in far off Zanarkand.
Jecht and Braska's children, and they knew each other. And, I reflected, it could not have been more perfect or made things more simple for myself. But then I questioned why she would be in Luca, of all places, and my face fell as I realised my own answer. Why she sat with a staff at her side and her hands properly folded in her lap. Why she would not meet the eyes of her companions fully. Why her smile was tinged by a hint of sorrow.
She was a Summoner.
The injustice of this filled with such a potent rage that I found myself moving from my seat to the hallway that ran behind the crowded stands and I slammed a fist into the concrete wall to control my own shouts of anger. I had given up so much in an attempt to prevent this very thing from happening and in the end it had been futile.
I already knew what I had to do. It was decided the instant I'd seen her face. And I'd promise both Braska and Jecht, as the only living guardian of our motley crew, that their families would remain safe. Having failed on one account for both of them, both wives having passed away, I could not let the same happen for their children. The only thing they had left.
Otherwise, why remain? Why avoid my fate on the Farplane for so long?
It was, perhaps, the final thing I had to do. The final thing, and then I would rest.
I sat in the stands through each break and pause in the match, keeping my eyes on Yuna until she and her group wandered away from their seats. I then shifted my attention to the boy, watching him intently even when the game reached a pause.
At first it was quiet. None could determine why play had halted. I stared intently at the cobalt sphere and waited.
And then a member of the Lucan blitzball team was thrown from the sphere, crashing into the stands and laying still. Slowly, fiends began to materialise in the water and made a straight path toward my charge.
I glared and rose to my feet, drawing the hilt of my sword up with me. I eased it on to my shoulder for quicker movement and started down the concrete stairs.
At the base of the stairs I was met by a large creature spanning the length of an entire row of seats. It blocked the exits and, unfortunately, my path towards the boy.
"Move," I snarled in a commanding tone. It growled at me and snapped its teeth, pools of drool forming below its ravenous maw. I could see it would not be moving any time soon and slipped my opposite sword-bearing arm out of the makeshift sling in my coat. My bare palm touched the metal of my sword and I felt my training and skills come back to me in a moment as if I had never left this place, never gone to safe and secure Zanarkand. I wanted blood.
The creature dove at me and in the same instant I stepped quickly aside, driving the blade directly into the side of its serpentine neck. It cried out in pain and turned to snap at me but was unable to reach past the sword. It chose instead to swing sharply around, pulling me with it in a haze of red blood that coated my arms and the ground beneath me. Still I held on, planting my feet against it's body and pulling away only when it had stopped moving. I landed a few feet away crouched on my feet, sword scraping against the concrete floor. Still bleeding from its nonfatal wound, the creature- dragon, really, I admonished myself -turned to face me, licks of fire inching past closed lips.
Before it could attack once more I heard a yell, and turned only to see Tidus streak past me. I felt a stab of panic and followed, stopping only when he forced his sword- not the one I had given him, I noticed as an afterthought -into the dragon's forehead. It screeched as he forced it forward, lifted its head, and I quickly thrust my blade upward. The blade pierced it's neck and sent carmine liquid coursing down my arms. Only once it ceased moving did I step back and wipe what filth I could off on the end of my overcoat.
Tidus turned back and smiled at me, resting his sword on it's tip. "I knew I recognized that red coat."
"Where is your sword?" I asked, nodding to the blue translucent blade that shone like oceanwater in his bloodsoaked hand.
"Upgraded. Kept Jecht's sword back in the village."
"Village?" I asked, easing my elbow back into the crook of my coat. The age old wounds I bore on that limb had resurfaced in a haze of blinding pain that only distractions could rid me of.
"Baid or Besid or something," Tidus replied with a nonchalant shrug.
A hand clapped on his shoulder and I tensed, ready to strike. It belonged to a larger figure with dark tanned skin and a shock of red hair who currently smiled benevolently at me, warmly enough that my shoulders relaxed.
"He means Besaid. Besaid Island," the other man explained and I realised it was one of the members of the blitzball team that had been in the water with the boy when the fiends saw fit to attack.
I opened my mouth to ask of Yuna when I realised that two fiends had made their way behind the two younger men. Turning my head, I saw two more behind myself. They surrounded us. I swung round, gripping the hilt in one hand, my sword arcing upwards as the creatures dove at me. Moments before my weapon would have lopped off both their heads the fiends dissolved into a hundred pyreflies and I almost fell to the ground under the force of my missed attack. I turned only to see the same happen with Tidus and his companion. Our eyes met a moment and turned in unison to the center of the stadium.
A creature, hundreds of lengths tall, stood half submerged in a burning, lethal pool of what seemed to be tar. Both arms were bound to its chest, the fingernails scratching unendingly at the sides of its grotesque face. It let out a moan like a wounded animal that deafened all those around and then sunk back into the depths of the tarry blackness, the grasping fingers still moving even as they faded from view. An Aeon? No, not that monster.
I glanced around the stadium in the resulting silence. Bodies lay everywhere with their companions crouched close to them, silent tears falling as they sat too stunned to make any sound. The seats were coated with blood, both that of fiends and that of spectators. I closed my eyes from the sight of the torn bodies of children and instead inclined my gaze to the balcony that sat higher than the rest of the stadium. The Maesters of Yevon should have been standing watch over the match. Should have protected their people.
Instead stood only a single man, his arms outstretched, his face solemn. I heard whispered from Tidus's companion "Maester Seymour", his tone almost adoring.
"The threat is gone," he called from his balcony, arms still open wide like a benevolent god. "Please retire to your places of residence on this sad day, so that we may retain the joy of the week come tomorrow on behalf of those you have lost."
He then bowed in the prayer of Yevon and all around me the stadium echoed his movements. In the back of my head I could hear the dim thrum of the hymn and spat on the ground beside me before turning and heading toward the exit.
"Tidus, come." Like a loyal pet he obeyed, his friend likewise following. "We must find Yuna."
A/N- Thank you for the lovely comments and thank you for reading. This story follows the course of the game but with added parts, removed parts, and entirely changed parts. For the violence of the story there was not much realism with the violence (of course, it was a 'T' rated game), which explains why I'm so gore-happy.
