The next day, I woke up unusually late.

Luckily it was Sunday, the only day that the Abes didn't have practice.

The last thing that I felt like doing was going anywhere near the water. My body needed a rest from anything too physical.

My body suggested that I lie in bed all day in a lazy mode, but then I remembered how philosophically depressing I would become if I only lay in my bed and think all day.

I had no obligations in my life other than Blitzball, because it was the only thing I could do.

I resembled my old man because I inherited his superior physical capabilities coupled with inferior mental capabilities.

I was never a genius when it came to school, so I simply ditched it all together once mum died.

I never had to worry about money for the rest of my life, thanks to my superstar father and his inheritance.

So I figured I would live my life in total freedom to do whatever I wanted to do.

So I did just that and thus I played Blitzball all day.

I let my rage and loneliness bury itself through vigorous hours in the Aqua Sphere, kicking and catching balls in the water every single day.

My old man's former team mates took pity on me based solely on the fact that I was now an official orphan.

So they gave me free coaching lessons on Blitzball, and even cared to play a few games with me now and then in the Blitz stadium.

Those countless hours dedicated to Blitzball eventually paid off, as I became a professional Blitzball player at thirteen.

I was officially the youngest, and the media helped my fame rise quicker than other players thanks to my lineage.

The sports papers never once stopped comparing me to Jecht.

Everything from my appearance, physicality, kick, throw, swim, tactics and sportsmanship

were compared to him.

So when I got my contract to become the youngest player of the Zanarkand Abes, people became obsessed with my family ties even more so than before.

It leads me to my superstardom status and figure pay, so I try not to complain too much.

But Blitzball was the last thing I wanted to think about today.

The cliché that was beaten to death in my head "You are following in your father's footsteps" would sound more offensive today than any other day.

I came by an epiphany yesterday that I don't want to end up like him even more.

Being absent for a son's sixteenth birthday takes a toll on the poor child more than people would speculate.

I stared at my phone dully.

I had tons of messages from girls asking what I was doing today.

Somehow they all have been notified that today was my day off.

Funny that, because they should all know by now that it is rare for Blitzball players to have even Sundays off.

Anyways, I just didn't feel like responding to any of them.

I've always been popular with the women,, but I've never been the ladies man.

Even my Mr. Popular Superstar father wasn't one.

It wasn't that there were too many girls to choose from that I couldn't find 'the one'.

It was just that behind all the flirting, I could always subconsciously sense their admiration for only my exterior image; the cute, young, buff Blitzball superstar Tidus who owns legacy, fame and fortune.

But they didn't have a clue of how to connect with who I was and who I wanted to be deep down.

They never acknowledged or realized how truly lonely I felt or they could not understand the constant lack of something that I hungered for.

I guess I was looking for more of a spiritual kind of girl, one who knew how to see through my pride and glory, and one who could connect with me at a deeper level.

I couldn't think of anything better to do than to go out and cool down my head a little.

Zanarkand was always cooler outside.

The waterfalls that entailed the city provided a cool and splashing breeze all year round.

I grabbed my wallet and phone and pretty much went empty-handed into the heart of the Zanarkand Square.

I was never much of a shopper, so I skipped along the department stores. I kept my hood on to cover my face.

The last thing I wanted to do today was to sign autographs.

I don't know for what reason, but my footsteps lead me to the Zanarkand Blitzball Stadium.

Didn't I just tell myself in the morning that I wanted to avoid all forms of physical exercise for today?

I guess that the other and deeper side of me told me I really had not much going on in my life to spend my time otherwise.

Today was one of the very few days of the year when the stadium was empty.

Usually there are Blitzball matches or training going on, and if it isn't that, it's usually reserved for amateur players or school kids renting the stadium for Blitzball events.

I scanned my ID at the electronic guard gate.

The gatekeeper had shut down all systems to guard off any visitors on a national holiday, but being the V.I.P player of the generation gave me special privileges to use the stadium for private training anytime I wanted.

The owner, as well as the manager of the stadium knew me very well on a personal basis.

He had expected me to come over even on national holidays, because he knew I was more preoccupied with Blitzball rather than a normal family life.

"I was expecting you'd come. Sort of had the Blitz tingle in my pot belly." He snickered.

"Hey, you're getting wiser." I joked.

"I'll quickly get the motor running for ya. It should be workin' in a few minutes."

"Thanks Bronen." I smiled at him.

Lucky guy, he and his family practically live at the stadium, due to heavy maintenance demands.

The stadium soon filled up with warm water, so I wouldn't freeze to death all of a sudden.

I began my usual training by swimming a few laps around the sphere.

These moments were one of the few times in my life when I felt complete tranquility.

There were no crowds in one hundred and eighty degrees view that cheered or booed for my every move.

Nor were there any other players who were ready to tackle me with their heavy shoulders.

The blue water just seeped through my heart and soul as my arms rippled through the calm water.

As I was swimming, a disruptive sudden though violated my moment of peace.

It was the resurfacing of my old man, and some of his rough words that pierced through my ego.

I was well aware of the fact that it was mostly the Jecht Shot that got him famous and notable in the Blitzball arena.

There were many times when I tried to secretly imitate his moves to prove to him and myself that he wasn't anything or so special as he always made himself to be.

My sudden rage filled me with violent urges as I tried desperately to conjure the exact blue print of the Jecht Shot.

But I failed to replicate it the way he did for the hundredth time (or more).

Every time I failed, I didn't gain any more respect towards that man than he needed credit for.

It would just end up filling me with more insecurity and thus loathing I had towards my own old man.

It would infuriate me for the next few days and I would naturally lose my mental concentration of everything I do. I retreated back home at around midnight.

The streets were still full of crowds of family and lovers busily talking and bustling about in their business.

Something that I deeply loathed to see.

National holidays only solidified one thing to me every time it happened.

That I had no one whom I wanted or had anyone to spend it with.

When I entered my small studio, my heart did a double take as I turned on the lights.

A young girl with short light brown hair, wearing a white and blue kimono decked with flower patterns was lying and sleeping in my bed.