Summary: She shone. As she shouldered the hope and smiles of the world, she shone. And I, a shattered remnant of a dream city, faced fate at her side. With our history at our backs, the tempest at our front barely touched us. It is a history that begs to be told, and so I ask that you listen to our story. For this may be our last chance. SPOILERS. Canon pairings.
Warnings: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. This is a novelization of Final Fantasy X - so SPOILERS! That said, I will be taking a lot of creative liberty in how some things happen to make it work in novel format. This could lead to unintended inconsistencies with the plot that I will iron out as much as I can as I move through it and re-experience the story. This is also a re-written version of a novelization that I posted a long time ago but never finished so I might have missed some things as I was correcting them (for example, initially it was written in first person POV, but now it's third person POV - I might have used first person out of habit).
A/N: I may or may not regret this.
Disclaimer: I don't own or claim to own FFX. This is the only time I will say this - you all know what site you're on and that you wouldn't find this here if I owned the IP ;)
Prologue
"I was in a coffee shop running away from home when I heard the news that day." It was a sombre tone of voice that laced the words as they filled the air. All across the city, millions listened quietly, sobered by the memory of which Zanar from ZBlitzFM spoke. In the taxis filled with groups of friends headed to the event of the year, silence fell and they bowed their heads in respect. Bartenders paused their work and their patrons raised their drinks. Blitzers in their dressing rooms getting ready for the night stilled. It was as if the city had fallen into prayer.
Zanar from ZBlitzFM did not see how his audience responded to his words, but he felt it. He continued, head bowed and shoulders hunched forward over his microphone. "Our hero, Jecht, gone—vanished into thin air!"
Far into the very corners of the city, one man snorted lightly. Vanished, indeed.
"My dad must have been his biggest fan. I knew how sad he'd be." A humourless laugh. "Heck, we all were that day. 'Zanar,' I says to myself, 'what are you thinking?' I went running straight back home."
Auron.
The dark amusement of what had been and what still was seeped away. One steely grey eye opened lazily, if fruitlessly – for there was no point searching for the source with his sight. It was mere habit – the only reaction to the call of his name that he revealed. Inwardly, though, his attention was wholly on the voice that had pulled at his attention.
The man on the radio spoke still. "We sat up talking about Jecht all night. My dad and I never talked so much."
It's time, Auron.
A grunt was the only response to the inaudible statement. A face filled the man's thoughts – the face of a young man with a mess of blond hair and eyes blue as the sphere arena that he loved so much, the face of his surrogate family. Or rather, the face for whom he was surrogate family to. There was a wave of dread and of relief accompanying the image. He used Zanar's continuing recollection to mull over the feeling without truly listening to the words.
"Tonight?" the man finally asked out loud. His voice was quiet. Resigned, as though it had been coming all week. As though he'd known every day – yet still he asked, for it was high time and yet still too soon.
On the radio, Zanar tried to shake the sobriety of the moment and chimed, "Ten years later and the National Zanadian Championship is today! A lot of people are waiting to see the showdown between Zanarkand's two strongest teams, and even more to see Jecht's flesh and blood following in his footsteps!"
There will be no better time. It's been ten years since so many have gathered.
A tight grin, and the man answered half mockingly. Half deadly serious. "Did they tell you that?"
They didn't need to.
No answer. There was something overwhelming the feeling of dread, of relief, of everything that opposed what needed to be done.
Regret. Regret for what had to happen, for the future of the young man who had chosen none of this. When time begged an explanation, what would there be to tell him? 'It's mere coincidence. It could have been anybody else, but it turns out it was you.'
With this feeling in his chest, the man spoke around the lump that wanted to rise in his throat. "You're sure?" Are you sure you want to sentence him to this?
No, came the easy answer. It went unsaid that there was no choice in the matter – they both knew it was time for him, for everyone, to wake up.
Silence. There was nothing else to be said. The man nodded, and then his eye closed once more. His mind circled around promises of the past as his ears swam with words that spoke of the present and set the stage for the future.
And barely a few miles away, fate watched as a hand flicked up to silence the radio of a sleek black car—to silence the talk of someone else's story.
Unaware that his own was about to take hold.
A/N: Some context and disclaimers: This is not my first attempt to novelize FFX. I admit with great shame that I got about a quarter through over a decade ago before I stopped - then deleted because I was embarrassed that I let all my readers down. This story WILL NOT leave me alone, though - I've never stopped thinking about it and I come back to it often. So I'm going to give it a try again - but I don't promise that I'll finish it. Life is busy and I'm going back to university next year - also I have ADHD and periodically hyperfocus on writing for a couple of weeks then suddenly drop it for a few weeks as quickly as I picked it up. I'm hoping the feedback from posting will help with that.
That said, I would greatly appreciate if you leave a review! Let me know what you like and what you don't like - I'm making a lot of changes to how some things happen and I would love to know your thoughts on them!
Have a wonderful day wherever in the world you are 3