(A/N): Well, this turned out much better than I expected. Thank you, brief strike of inspiration, for conveying Yuna's POV.
Also, slight spoilers for the FFX-2.5 ~Eien no Daishō~ novel. Beware. I will be faithful to the canon route. XD
Chapter 4
~The High Priestess~
Yuna sensed a disturbance in the air long before Wakka called out to her.
Goosebumps broke out on her arms and legs, yet the shiver that pervades her body now does little to disrupt her focus. She envisions him diving in the salt waters of Bevelle, dribbling his blitzball, training his lungs, honing his muscle reflexes, waving to the occasional friendly beach trotter upon breaking through the surface every time― and of course, the gaggle of fangirls hovering by the shore, eager to steal some candid shots.
Her brow pinches in a frown, threatening to fracture her calm and concentration. 'Don't they have something better to do with their time―?' Jolted out of her daydream, she closes their connection, afraid her annoyance and jealousy will bleed through.
Privy to the innermost details of his mundane daily life, this does not bode well for her jaded heart. Tidus deserves every happiness in the world, and she must face the fact that she can no longer give it to him. At least not like this, entrenched in her many secrets and misgivings, for if she dares to confide in him the truth of his precarious existence, he will disappear. Just like Bria and his Summoner paramour, Kush.
The choices they made during the Machina War on Besaid soil, the consequences dealt one millennium later, and the bitter reality of their reunion―
'I don't... want to end up like them...'
But what other choice does she have?
Just keeping him in her thoughts suffices for now, and she lowers her clasped hands to sigh, threading their bond around a simple command: Live and swim free . Drifting back into the world of the present, of her small and humble diminished order in this dim antechamber, the air so stifling and cold, she looks over her shoulder to acknowledge her Guardian's presence, a familiar sight for sore eyes.
"Yes...? What is it, Wakka?"
"There are people here to see you. Officers from the Spiran Council."
Her eyes stray to the pair of individuals waiting by the doorway, a young man and woman no older than eighteen. They recruit them so young... Bright-eyed and self-imposing, acting as representatives of their newly established republic government. Baralai must have sent them after reaching the end of his rope, fed up of her tireless rejections to his repeated summons. She thought she could wear him out if she insisted on acting the part of an unconcerned bystander, but…
This time, she will end this farce for good.
Kurgum stares, transfixed upon the High Summoner's regal, noble figure― until he remembers himself. "...G-Greetings, my lady! I am Kurgum, an authorized Sender. I have long waited to meet you, and I have something for you from Chancellor Baralai, and…" He rambles, stumbling over his stutter, wrangling on the hem of his navy blue uniform and flicking his gaze downcast, starstruck in the presence of his all-time hero.
Chuami contents herself with hanging back, allowing Kurgum to take the reins on this one. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her in Luca Stadium, he would not stop harping about her. His obsession with the High Summoner inspired him to collect any and all visiosphere clips bearing any mention or footage of her. Kurgum filled entire notebooks dedicated to the advanced study of White Magic and Summoning Arts. He went so far as to seek out a collectible statuette of her, an exact replica of her life-sized High Summoner sculpture erected in Bevelle Temple.
When Chuami finally thought his hero worship would start to die down due to her rumored retirement, his obsession rekindled and then sky-rocketed the moment Lady Yuna entered the sphere hunter scene. Casting out her stiff Summoner garb for scandalous apparel, Yuna skirted around the public eye, avoiding politics like the plague while plundering treasure spheres, coming to blows with Spira's leading powerhouses over the discovery of confidential spheres. They even took trips to watch her sing live, chaperoned by her mother both times, in Luca and then the Thunder Plains, rendered speechless by her stellar performance each time. Only the young memory of Baralai in choir can surpass that feeling of utter awe; his violin recitals more captivating than the revolution of pop, his skill with the koto second to none.
Now that they stand before High Summoner Yuna in the flesh, visiospheres and distance does not do this woman justice. She looks so beautiful and mysterious, no wonder Kurgum acts so tongue-tied. Even Chuami cows her tongue in her presence, practicing humility on the rare occasion it calls for it.
"I see." Her impassive voice cuts through the echo of haunting prayer, foreshadowing her dismissal. "Then please leave the package and be on your way."
Chuami blinks, dumbstruck, her ire rising quicker than a match can catch on fire. Dropping all pretense for politeness, she interjects. "Hold on there, did you just hear what he said?" Witnessing Kurgum's dream come true after years of tolerating his flushed excitement, dorky smiles, and endless praises, only to watch it crumble a moment later under the weight of his crestfallen smile― She will not stand for it. "He said he's waited a long time to meet you! Ever since he's awakened, he's been waiting for this day to―"
"No, it's fine. You must be very busy."
She would have said more, given this damn woman a piece of her mind, if not for the desperate, pleading look on Kurgum's face. The utter heartbreak he strives to conceal rips her apart, and she grits her teeth, suppressing the crude remark. 'Busy, my ass.'
"Kurgum, stay out of this."
"But Lady Yuna said she's busy…"
"Busy? Too busy to eat? Too busy to sleep? Too busy to talk just a few moments to guests who came all the way from Bevelle?" Chuami bites her tongue, too riled to calm her vocal ire, let alone apologize. She knows she shouldn't raise her voice at the High Summoner, but… Hearing the words come out of her mouth, what a major letdown!
'That's not an excuse! What else does she do in her free time on this tiny little island? Baralai governs an entire capital!'
She thinks of the man who receives all manner of guests and solicitors from all around the globe, never turning away a desperate plight or selfish request dropped on his lap. He looks forward to every meeting with the Council elders who criticize his every opinion and action only because their voices matter. While this woman shuts herself inside a stuffy old temple, praying in lieu of action, there exists another who can never be caught sitting idle, always ready to meet the next client. And yet, by the end of the day, every day, Chuami will find him the last one to leave, clearing menial tasks in preparation for the next day.
When lesser people would cave and break under the pressure, Baralai never looked more content.
Yuna's lukewarm words anchor her from her thoughts, reeling her back to reality.
"I apologize. I had to interrupt my prayer, so I'm feeling a bit anxious."
Oh, yeah. Like happy thoughts could forestall a dying mythical forest or save an endangered species from extinction. Anyone can harbor selfless, noble thoughts. After all, daydreams are easy to entertain, but the real hard work comes from the leaders who take charge of the day, tackling the many issues that crop up faster than weeds. Chuami witnesses it first hand, even if she does not understand what he goes through behind closed doors, juggling endless paperwork, discontent citizenry, and pending policies slow to pass.
"I think Spira is peaceful enough without your prayers. Sure, there's trouble here and there, but the Council takes care of most of them."
Yuna hums, conceding to her passionate tirade with a wry smile. "I suppose so."
"Huh?" Chuami's jaw drops, astounded by her nerve.
Why does she receive the impression this woman disses the very idea of authority save for her own? Lady Yuna clearly mocks them and everything that they stand for, undermining the gravity of their visit, the fact they came bearing news and disconcerting development of a global crisis that affects them all. Living far away from the mainland, pretending it will never come to your blessed little island does not erase it from existence, you know.
"Hey, we don't need that kind of talk. You brought something? Then let's see it."
Bless Wakka for his uncanny ability to break the ice, for if he had waited a moment longer to mediate the potential standoff, Chuami would have definitely chewed someone's head off. Preferably one of the Yevoners.
"Yes, um…" Kurgum recollects himself, rummaging in his messenger bag. "Here it is."
Yuna receives the sphere he holds out to her, activating the fluorescent feed with a press of her thumb, languid eyes devoid of curiosity. Chuami and Kurgum watch in bated anticipation, intent on her reaction as it reveals an image of the Moonflow caught in twilight. In its currents were two enormous, adorable shoopufs, wading in the water together, lovingly tangling their long noses…
Until Wakka's sharp interjection cuts through the peaceful quiet. "Two shoopufs?!"
"One morning, there was another one." Kurgum explains, bracing himself for Wakka's skepticism.
"Well, where'd it come from? The Moonflow shoopuf is supposed to be the last one."
Chuami rolls her eyes. What's so hard to believe? Of course he would not know there are other shoopuf outside of the Moonflow, being stuck in a tiny corner of the world. Hard to believe Sir Wakka holds the undisputed title of Legendary Guardian when he acts this ignorant of current events, even stranger that Yuna does not care to correct him when her sphere hunter colleague had been the one to set up the Commsphere channel in the first place, exposing mountain shoopufs in the hot springs of Mt. Gagazet as well as their sand-trotting cousins.
What have these people been doing for the past three years? Living under a rock? Or sunbathing on the beach? Did overexposure of the sun go on to burn their brain cells? Chuami would have gone on longer stringing forth a pearl necklace of condescending quips, staving the onset of her disappointment, if not for Kurgum's call to elaborate on the issue.
"Thirty years ago, there was a shoopuf couple, but the female was attacked and killed by Sin. There are elderly folk who claim that it is that shoopuf."
"The Beckoning…" Yuna whispers, and Wakka concedes to her conclusion.
"Yeah, it has to be."
"But this time it's not the Yevoners. We've forbidden Beckoning outside of the Farplane."
"I don't know the reason…" Kurgum clasps his hands in front of him, compelled to believe Yuna's claim at face value. "But Chancellor Baralai insisted that Lady Yuna see this, then come to Bevelle to discuss it."
"Kurgum, you're a Sender, right?"
"Yes."
"Then, you can do it, too." Yuna reasons, deflecting the responsibility. "This shoopuf is merely an illusion. If you send it, it will cease to be."
"...That's not the only problem."
"The Moonflow is overflowing again." Chuami interjects before Kurgum can continue, eager to get this over with. No offense to Kurgum or anything, but he talks with the charm and urgency of an old Guado. Scisero would have clucked his tongue at her for that, and she stifles the smile. "The area around the Moonflow is always teeming with spiritual energy, but this is... abnormal. We need to figure out why on top of finding out who brought back the shoopuf. I'm pretty sure the Council thinks it's the Yevoners... so it's best to see them personally. Her voice carries weight with many."
"Baralai just wants Yuna to bail him out. Appease the council yourself, why don't you…?" Wakka scowls, crossing his arms.
"Wakka…" Yuna admonishes him, wary of his indiscreet grumbling.
"Yuna was supposed to be spared from politics. That's why she shouldn't…"
"She shouldn't…?" Chuami parrots his spiteful remark, curious. Why are these people so damn overprotective of her? Can't the High Summoner stand up for herself?
"I'm so sorry, I can't go."
Chuami internalizes her groan, frustrated that she reinforced her stubborn stance. The longer they stand here 'entertaining the company of High Summoner Yuna,' the more it becomes obvious that coming here resulted in an absolute waste of their time.
This woman and her coddling, overprotective Guardians do not care a lick for the current state of Spira, let alone respect Baralai and the Spiran Council. They spit on their name, treating honored emissaries as minor annoyances, turning their noses from the slightest scent of responsibility as if it does not concern them.
She wants nothing more than to leave this backwater island and its washed-up legends, but to return empty-handed, coming face to face with his disappointment, the way he will smile in that kind and appeasing way of his, absolving her of any blame, will haunt her far greater than any shame. She wants to surpass his expectations, to prove that he sent the right people to complete the impossible task of appealing to the recluse High Summoner.
She can't walk away now. She must do something, anything to convince her―
'But what does she care about? Can it be...? Maybe...'
"...but that'll get you two in trouble, right? So let's do this." Yuna rambles on. "I'll create a letter sphere for the Council, and you can take―."
"I saw Tidus in Bevelle." Chuami blurts out before she loses the courage, annoyed that she had to resort to manipulation tactics. "Your boyfriend, right?"
Something changes in her expression, splits that infuriating stoic mask right down the middle, exposing hints of her panic and shock, but most of all― fear . Yuna gasps, releasing the breath she had been holding in, clenching her hand over her bosom, as if grappling for the will to speak. To Chuami, she looks to be in great pain, and for a split second she actually feels guilty for provoking her.
"...yes. Did he... look well?"
"He was hiding it, but he looked injured."
"Really?" Now that warrants her full concern. She turns to Wakka, seeking validation from the only other individual who keeps his company most. "Wakka, did you know?"
He shrugs, nonplussed. "Nope."
"Probably doesn't want to worry people."
"Chuami…" Kurgum casts a pointed look her way, which Chuami opts to ignore, feeling justified in her tact. At least they are getting somewhere.
"I see… yeah, okay…" Yuna cuts eye contact, mumbling to herself, curling her index finger over her pursed lips. Before where her eyes were carved out hollow, feigning attention in the steadiness of her deadened gaze, lending half an ear to unheeded words, now she retreats from the situation altogether, shutting out every other soul present in the room.
Chuami watches on, gripped by both impatience and morbid curiosity. Like any open book beyond her ken, she wants to scream and tear the pages out, or throw it against the wall― anything to derive superficial satisfaction from its needless destruction. After all, what else does the famous Lady Yuna do aside from praying in a dark, stuffy room devoid of fresh air and warm sunlight? What else does she do in her free time besides work on killer tans at the beach? Who else does she commiserate with, if not old widowed women and sheltered children and her newlywed Guardians?
What does this woman want? What does she fear and cherish most? While High Summoner Yuna stands as a pillar of solidarity, she rivals the stone statues trapped in divine tribute, as cold and unfeeling as her deceased predecessors.
"Yuna, let's go talk to Lu." Wakka, accustomed to his Summoner's quirks, decides to step in and spare her.
Yuna nods, lowering her hand, determination bleeding through her once dull eyes.
"Alright."
