Auron examined the area around them silently, peering around every corner with his hand on the hilt of his blade, ready for an attack. He listened, carefully, trying to hear the sound of scuffling feet, or breathing, or even the light ruffling sound of clothing as someone shifted. All he heard, however, was Braska sigh behind him.

"Auron, you don't have to do this."

"But..."

His friend put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are far too tense, lately. I've known you for ten years and you've always been protective, but..."

Auron raised a stern, but questioning eyebrow.

"But what?"

"But this is ridiculous!" he laughed, gesturing around them.

It was dawn. Pale blue light was already beginning to fill the empty streets, but small dark shadows remained here and there, behind the buildings, trees and boxes. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms drifted towards them on the cool, gentle breeze, bringing with it the petals themselves, delicately pink and soft. They landed in their hair like spring snow, softly and quietly. Auron shook them out, watching them fall to the ground below. The only sound that came with the beautiful breeze was the occasional tweeting bird or creaking bough. Even in these calming surroundings, Auron's every nerve was on end, his muscles tense and constantly itching to draw his blade. Braska could tell that something was wrong. Auron lowered his arms with begrudging effort.

"That's better." He gestured to a nearby stack of ornately decorated wooden crates, where they both promptly sat down. "Now, is there a reason you're so on edge?"

Auron muttered something, seemingly ashamed. He did not like to disclose his feelings or thoughts very often; only when Braska truly pried did Auron relent.

"What was that?"

He muttered again, and Braska vaguely heard the name "Amira."

"Ah, is she troubling you again?"

"She follows me everywhere," he hissed. "I do not think my shadow could get any closer."

Braska laughed and Auron gave him a look of betrayal.

"I do not find it funny!"

"She's probably got a crush on you! After all, you're a quiet, mysterious orphan boy with long dark hair and broad shoulders..."

"Sounds like you two have been talking."

Braska laughed again, a soft and comforting sound.

"No, but I know the type. There is a girl in the Temple who is training to be a Summoner... she has feelings for a boy named Gethin. He's all she can talk about."

He shook his head.

"You hate her don't you?"

"She gives me funny feelings," was all he could manage.

Braska looked alarmed.

"You mean you...?"

Auron was confused for a second, but one look at Braska's face told him that his friend had misunderstood.

"No no no! She's... she's... there's something... bad there," he finally finished. "Like a sweaty sock in a newly made bed... She looks normal, but there's something under the surface that stinks."

"Great analogy."

"Thanks..." he muttered, a little embarrassed by his own low-brow comparison. "But it's true."

Braska sighed.

"Be that as it may, Priest Medwin is quite fond of you. There are not many who are in his good graces, nor as close. You are lucky to have this connection, even if it does come at a price."

"I would rather not have his friendship."

Braska raised his eyebrows as high as Auron had seen them go, but was relaxed when he spoke.

"That is a dangerous thing to say, Auron. To betray a Priest is to betray the teachings. It's blasphemy."

"Like it is to be kind to the Al-Bhed?" he shot. It was a low blow, and he regretted it as soon as it had come out of his mouth. He could tell by his face that Braska was hurt. It was funny that, as a Priest-In-Training, Braska took no offense at insults thrown their way, however stood up to a discriminated minority in Spira of which he was not even a part. He stood, calmly, and looked his friend in the face.

"Auron," he said, "There is more to life than shunning others."

Auron looked up from his seat on the box. He suddenly felt dirty, and bad. His face flushed red as he looked earnestly up at Braska, his eyes beseeching him for forgiveness.

"I did not mean to insult you," he said slowly, quietly. "I apologize."

He paused.

"However - and, forgive me - you do not like the other Priests yourself, yet you are upset at my own dislike of them?"

"No," he said slowly. "It is true, I don't like the other Priests. But I do realize that we must respect them in order to be able to live our lives peacefully."

Braska waved his hand dismissively, ending the conversation. There was something in his tone, however, that suggested he had more to say. Auron gestured for him to continue, and Braska sat down with a sigh.

"I do not follow the teachings to fit in, Auron. I follow them because my heart believes in them. The leaders of Yevon? Yes, most of them are corrupt, power-hungry, though I have met some who are not. These are my heroes, Auron. Not the Maesters, not the other Priests, but the Summoners, and their Guardians." Braska took a deep breath, and Auron looked up at him seriously. He continued. "These are the ones who keep the spirit of Yevon alive. They work tirelessly to protect the people, even at great risk to themselves. Many die for them. But, it is not futile. No - they sacrifice all just to give something nobody can even hold - hope."

Auron looked away, deep in thought.

"It sounds as though you would like to join the Summoners instead of following through on your Priesthood." He turned towards him seriously. "Would you even say goodbye?"

Braska knew what he meant. He was Auron's only true friend; if he were to become a Summoner, they would never see each other again. He put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Auron, I assure you, I will always be there for you. I will even be there to greet you on the Farplane when it is your time to live there."

"Do you promise?" he asked.

"A promise is something very serious to me. I do not take them lightly."

Auron raised an eyebrow, and Braska nodded with a smile.

"I promise."